Better Be Slytherin!

word, the Bloody Baron seemed to have taken it upon himself to act as the boy's personal guardian, following him to classes and hovering near him in the Great Hall at meals -- the ones the boy attended anyway, which looked to be about one in three; breakfasts, primarily, where he continued to down his nutrition potion as commanded, and little else, much to Severus' annoyance. In addition to making himself more present than usual, the Baron gave Severus more than his fair share of baleful looks, thank you very much, even during the boy's Potions class.

Bloody ghost.

During Potions, Severus made sure to call on the boy to answer questions from the actual assigned reading – unlike the previous time, when he'd been set on proving to the boy that he could not trust his peers to not change sides with whatever way the wind blew – and the boy answered appropriately, if not completely. Though Severus sent a smirking smile at the Baron, who was lurking in the corner, he did notice that the boy appeared . . . tired, and a bit disinterested in the topic. His mouth was drawn tight, his face more pale than Severus had seen it since his first mandatory trip to the infirmary, and Potter kept his head down for the most part, not even looking Severus in the eye when he answered questions. It was . . . unlike him. Severus had gotten used to a certain amount of cheek or, at the very least, determination, from the boy. This apparent apathy was . . . troubling.

More troubling, however, was the Baron's eye-roll in response to Severus' smirk, not to mention the challenging looks being thrown his way every time he accosted the boy, by young Mr. Nott, the Bullstrode girl, and, surprisingly enough, Draco Malfoy. Even one or two of the Gryffindors kept peering at Potter in concern. It was enough to drive Severus mad.

However, over the course of the following few days, Potter's detentions went as smoothly as could be expected, with the boy doing the work he was assigned, and answering direct questions, but otherwise remaining silent. For his part, Severus left him to his work, only making a comment if the boy needed correction, which was gratifyingly infrequent. Deftly and quietly, Potter removed stingers from a large box of billywigs, shredded several pouches of boomslang skin, then squeezed a barrel of bundimuns and one of glumbumbles for their secretions.

During each detention, Severus worked on correcting essays and marking potions, or adjusted his lesson plans, or considered further the issue of Professor Quirrell. During his talk with Dumbledore, the Headmaster had made it clear that Severus was responsible for getting to the bottom of whatever was going on with the Defense Professor, despite protestations that he was not the man's superior in any legal way – though he naturally was in most other ways.

Dratted old coot.

Thus, Severus found himself accosting the Stuttering Wonder just after breakfast on Monday morning.

After finding the offensive-smelling professor in the third floor corridor – where he should not have been, under any circumstances other than the Stone being at risk, as it was not his turn to patrol the area – Severus pushed the man against the wall. With his arm across Quirrell's throat, Severus snarled, 'What, exactly, do you think you are doing?'

'I d-d-don't know wh-wh-what you mean, S-s-severus.'

'I mean, why on earth would you be in this corridor, at this time?'

'I-I-I thought I heard a n-n-noise?'

'Are asking me or telling me, Quirrell? I believe your next turn of duty here is not until Wednesday. I daresay you have better ways to spend your time until then.'

'I-I-I th-th-thought I-I should ch-ch-check it out, Severus, the n-n-noise. It's v-v-very im-p-p-portant to k-k- keep the Phi-phi—'

'Shut up, you sorry nitwit! Do you think the Headmaster wants you to blather on mindlessly about what he is keeping hidden?'

'N-n-no, of c-c-c-c-c-course not.' Quirrell gasped for breath, looking almost in tears.

'Of course not,' Severus agreed. He eased up on the man's windpipe and moved back, allowing Quirrell to straighten his robes and pull himself together. Eyes still narrowed, Severus dropped his voice to a whisper. 'I want to be quite sure you understand, Professor, that the Headmaster is keeping a very close eye on anyone he suspects of having . . . less than ideal loyalties to his way of thinking. Anyone. Is that clear enough for you?'

'Y-y-yes, Severus. I-I-I underst-st-stand.'

'Good. I should not see you here again until Wednesday, should I?'

'N-n-no, Severus.'

Severus let the man go, and watched to make sure he indeed left the third floor. Was Quirrell going to try and take the Philosopher's Stone? If so, there was quite a bit more at stake than he had previously considered. With a sigh, Severus went to see Dumbledore again, to share his latest concerns. And once more, Dumbledore nodded and gave assurances, and then left most of the work of keeping an eye on the annoying Professor Quirrell to Severus.

On Tuesday, the day of the next Slytherin Quidditch practice, Severus sent a note to Potter during breakfast, telling him he could come perform his detention during his free period instead of in the evening. Very kind of him, he thought. And understanding.

He watched the boy receive the note, saw Potter's momentary scowl morph into a look of resignation as the boy pushed his plate away and started to rise from the table. When he said something quietly to Theodore Nott, Nott read the note over his shoulder, then sent a glare at the Head Table, specifically at his Potions Professor. Severus lifted an eyebrow in return, and the boy looked away, but not before he murmured something to the Potter boy. Potter shrugged and grabbed up his book bag before heading out of the Hall.

Nott then spoke quickly and quietly to several of the other Firsties, heads bent together at their end of the table, and the lot of them rose and went after Potter.

Severus shook his head at their shenanigans, and applied himself to his meal.

Minerva leaned towards him. 'A bit of dissention in your ranks, Severus?'

Severus swallowed a bite of toast with orange marmalade and lifted an eyebrow. 'What makes you say that?'

'Your Firsties look on the verge of rebellion, perhaps on behalf of a certain Mr. Potter.'