Even the other houses got involved. Most of the Slytherins, of course, got behind the head of their house - although several secretly switched sides when it became apparent that Deveroux had the upper hand. The Gryffindors were unanimous in their support for Deveroux. Many in the Ravenclaw house at first supported the more experienced Snape, but began to switch allegiances as the Defense teacher pulled ahead. Most of the Hufflepuff students were in Deveroux's camp, but those that initially chose Snape stood staunchly by him.

It became very apparent that Snape was growing more and more frustrated as the days wore on and the points accumulated against him. What was especially amusing for Harry and the other Gryffindors was when the occasional stray poppy grew from Snape's desk during their potions class. Obviously, Malfoy's potion hadn't been strong enough to completely "flowerproof" it. Snape's expression was always priceless when one of the delicate flowers bloomed in front of his large nose. Each time it happened, it took every bit of willpower for the Gryffindor students to not burst out laughing as Snape tore the offending flower off of the desk and ground it into the floor with the heel of his black boot.

Also, every time Snape tried to retaliate against the clever Defense teacher, she always managed to catch on to his tricks -- and improve on them.

About a week before the Halloween feast, Deveroux was teaching her Gryffindor Defense class, reading from the teacher's text on "Advanced Magical Theories and Their Application" and occasionally, she would jot down important notes from the book onto her chalkboard - using white chalk this time. About 20 minutes into her class, Snape crept in and watched silently for a few moments.

Deveroux ignored him. "There are many species of water creature," she read aloud from her text. "It is imperative to learn which ones are friendly, which ones may attack if provoked, and which ones are aggressively hostile. This applies to land creatures as well. Now, the first of the aggressive creatures we will be going over ..." She picked up her chalk to write on the board .... only to have it instantly dissolve in a pile of dust in her palm. She paused a minute, a bit perplexed. Then with her other hand, she used her index finger to trace a circle just above her palm, and the chalk returned to normal. But the moment she tried to write with it again, it once again became a small pile of white dust. She slowly turned to look at the sneering Potions master and glared.

"You are right, pretty child," he purred. "Muggle chalk is easier to enchant."

Deveroux turned the hand holding the chalk dust upside down and let the remains drift to the floor. She then Summoned her wand, which lay on her desk as it usually did when she wasn't using it. The wand zipped through the air and into her hand, and she passed it over her textbook. She then waved the wand in front of the chalkboard, and the words she had wanted to write appeared instantly on the surface of the board. The students gasped in astonishment and admiration.

"Whoa!" Ron whispered. "How did she do that?"

"This round so far, Deveroux one, Snape zip!" Dean whispered, chortling.

Snape, meanwhile, looked as if someone had force-fed him a goblet of spiderplant acid extract, a light anesthetic, widely considered one of the most foul-tasting potions in the wizarding world.

Deveroux continued as if nothing happened. She continued reading from the text, occasionally jabbing her wand at the blackboard to highlight a word or phrase she wanted emphasized. The words glowed golden yellow for several seconds when she highlighted them, then faded again with the rest of the text.

"Perhaps one of the more dangerous aquatic creatures is the Leviathan, although these are considered extinct in all but the most remote of areas," the words "Leviathan" and "extinct" suddenly glowed for emphasis. "These are close relatives of the dragon family, and share many of the same characteristics. Their hide is very tough, and like dragon hide is usually magically fortified. Its weakness is its eyes - those are very vulnerable." The words "eyes" and "vulnerable" lit up briefly. "The creature is very reliant on its sense of smell, so strong odors may distract it. It is a savage carnivore, fond of eating giant squid, its main source of food. But it will also attack large jellyfish, whales, sharks, and even humans. The leviathan ..."

Suddenly, she heard her own voice singing ... the school song. And she remembered the day she had pretended to be hypnotized in Snape's classroom. Snape apparently had recorded the song on a crystal sonoroball, a clear, round spherical device that resembled a Rememberall and had a colored jewel inside. He sent the sonoroball sailing through the air so that the sound would carry better, and the sonoroball winked and glittered tauntingly in the lights of the room.

Deveroux turned to look at Snape, then she looked up at the ball, and then looked back down at the potions teacher as she heard her voice singing the song ... even the parts she had not sung during that class.

She turned back to the chalk board and closed her eyes in exasperation. That does it, she thought. If he wants a war, then he's going to get one!

She turned around and smiled sweetly at Snape. "I didn't know you were such a music fan, professor," she said. "Now class, how many of you are familiar with John Phillips? The Mamas and the Papas?"

Only a few students raised their hands, tentatively.

"Well, admittedly, they are before my time, too, but there was a song Mr. Phillips used to sing that I'm certain the Potions master would enjoy. It is one of my father's favorite songs, in fact. Any of you who know it, feel free to join in ..."

And she started singing. "If you coooome to San Fransiscooo, be sure to wear some floooowers in your haaaair ..."

Harry, Hermione, Seamus and a couple of others from Muggle backgrounds instantly recognized the tune, and started joining Deveroux. Bit by bit, the other students caught on, and by the end of the song, they were all singing or humming the tune with gusto. A smiling Deveroux waved her slender, silvery wand like a conductor's baton.

"Would you like to join us, professor?" Deveroux asked Snape, her voice saccharine. "We can all do it again, so you can get a good recording ...."

Snape just snarled, his face flushed, and he stormed out the door without a further word.

"That's two grudge points!" Seamus whispered, snickering. "And in less than twenty minutes! She's unstoppable!"

****

The Great Hall at lunchtime later that day was abuzz with talk about the "flowers" song. Deveroux's fifth year Gryffindors relished repeating the whole tale of the latest "grudge round" to their captive audience, and then proceeded to teach the rest of the table the song. Soon, the whole Gryffindor table began singing the song with relish:

"If you cooome to San Fransiscoooo, be sure to wear flooowers in your haaair ..."

Some of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students who recognized the tune started joining in .... "If you coooome to San Fransiscoooo summertime will beeeee a love-in theeeere ..." Fred and George were belting out the tune at the top of their lungs in loud voices that would have made fingernails on the chalkboard sound pleasant by comparison, but no one cared.

Harry glanced up at the teacher's table to look at Snape. The Potions teacher was glaring icily at a grinning Deveroux, who was pointedly ignoring him.

"That is quite enough!" McGonagall finally shouted a few bars into the second verse, her voice carrying to the far reaches of the room. "It is impolite to sing and carry on that way at the mealtable!"

The singing came to an abrupt halt, but nothing could have stopped the giggles and murmurings. Harry caught McGonagall trying to hide a grin as the deputy headmistress glanced over in Snape's direction.

In the wizarding world, Celestina Warbeck, the famous singing sorceress, may have had the number one hit at the time outside the school, with her waltzlike ballad "Bewitching Me." But in Hogwarts, the tune for the month was the old Muggle song "Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair."

For the next few days, the Gryffindor students in particular (much to McGonagall's private amusement) used every chance they could get to sing or hum the tune, especially when the Potions master was in earshot ... and out of "firing range." Only Deveroux had the nerve to actually sing it to his face, which she did every time he tried to pull something on her.

****

A soft whir of feathers distracted Snape from the pile of scrolls he had been grading while his potions class -- second-year Hufflepuffs -- looked up curiously. A small screech owl flew over to the Potions master's desk and landed right in front of him.

Snape stared suspiciously for a moment at the screech owl perched on his desk before removing the small roll of paper tied to its leg. The owl was not one he recognized, which probably meant that it had been rented or "borrowed" by Sirius Black, but one never knew these days. A quick precursory check with his wand revealed no curses or other nasty surprises, and without further ado, Snape unrolled the slip of paper and read it.
As he had feared the letter was short, and the news was bad.

"SS,
"It has started. Wanted you to be the first to know.

"Daniel Murdock was found dead this morning in his car in the lot outside Jermyn Street, where he kept an antiques shop as a front for his true activities in London.
He was murdered--vampire fashion. Stupid git forgot to check his car before he
got in last night. Several security guards have also been found on the premises, murdered in the same fashion. This is already turning into a media circus, and it's all the Ministry chaps can do to keep the Muggle press from swarming all over it. By tonight a lot of people are going to be hungry for blood, and I'm not just talking about the vampires.

"Hate to say I told you so, but you called this one dead wrong. With vampires it will always be vengeance over pragmatism. You might say...it's in their blood. Tell the boss ASAP and send the owl home for me--he's already overdue. Don't bother owling me back; I'm going be busy here for a while as you can well imagine.
--SB"

Snape swore viciously and slammed a fist onto his desk. A classroom full of student eyes looked up from their cauldrons and turned toward him in surprise. The Potions master ignored the stares, rerolled the paper and reattached it to the owl's leg.

"Take this to the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, immediately," he commanded the owl. "If he is not in, then you are to stay in his office and wait until he returns. And don't look at me for a handout. I don't have any owl treats. My owl is not spoiled rotten like you."

The screech owl gave a disgusted hoot, ruffled its feathers with irritation, and took off, sailing over the heads of the students and out the classroom door.

****

"This is enough!" McGonagall spat out to the headmaster. They were both in Dumbledore's office later that evening, and McGonagall was angrily pacing back and forth. Dumbledore was watching the last of the brown autumn leaves shivering amidst nearly barren tree limbs in the cold, late October wind.

"I never found it amusing to begin with, but this little rivalry between the parvenu and the Potions master must cease at once ... before someone gets hurt or even killed!"

"Now Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, trying to calm the witch down. "So far, it has all been harmless fun, although I did talk to Aurellia about putting Severus to sleep. I admit that went a bit far."

"But now they are getting the students involved in it," McGonagall continued hotly. "The little flashing buttons those Weasley boys have been making, and now this song. I admit, it was amusing at first, but now it has gone on too long. And the tallies -- I have heard rumors that they are even organizing bets! I saw Lee Jordan the other day with what looked like tally sheets, but when I confiscated them, they were only blank pieces of parchment. Yet I know I saw writing and numbers on them before he erased them! Betting ... on the school grounds!!! That is the final straw! Albus, you must stop this at once!"

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, putting up a hand to stop the tirade. "Which would you rather have happen? The students having a good time, laughing and joking ... or have them talking about the problems with the outside world, and Voldemort and everything that has happened, or could happen or the rumors ...."

"You used that argument on me a week ago," McGonagall said shortly. 'It is beginning to wear thin." Dumbledore started to try to speak again, but McGonagall cut in. She put both hands on his desk and gazed across it at the older wizard's face with her patented steely glare which she normally reserved for misbehaving students.

"Mark my words, Albus," McGonagall said. "I say this with all due respect and friendship. But you are playing a very dangerous game. I am surprised that Severus hasn't exploded already and done something exceedingly nasty. You know as well as I do what a temper he has, especially with the pressure he's been under lately! And Aurellia is little better. She can't just ignore him, or tell him to leave. Oh no, she has to best him and belittle him at every turn!"

"I'll keep an eye on things, but I'm sure they will get tired of this feud eventually, and things will settle down on their own. I don't want to intervene unless it becomes apparent that I have to. Besides, I think that Severus needs the distraction right now ... he has so many other more serious matters on his mind."

McGonagall sighed and closed her eyes. "I usually can see the method behind your madnesses, Albus, but this time the reasoning behind your policy of nonintervention is beyond me."

"Don't worry," Dumbledore replied. "I think in the end, things will work themselves out. They usually do."

"I certainly hope so," McGonagall replied.

****

"Harry, you are nutters!"

Harry ignored his best friend as he grabbed his wand from his desk and his Invisibility cloak from his trunk.

"Its after two," Harry said. "Most everyone will be in bed, and Filch is out of the office by now. Usually, anyway. But I want to find it."

"Harry, be sensible, won't you?" Ron implored. "Why are you so anxious to get the Maurader's map back? Sure, I admit, it was dead useful when we had it. But there is a group of very mean-looking guards just outside the portrait. Not just trolls or goblins this time, but both. Even with your cloak, you won't be able to get past the Fat Lady without being noticed. You'll get caught and expelled if you try. Trust me."

"I have an idea on how to deal with them," Harry said with an impish grin. He reached into another bag in his trunk -- a black velvet bag -- and pocketed a small handful of the bag's contents.

"This I have to see," Ron said. "Even Hermione is perplexed as to how to get past them. When it was just trolls or just goblins, it was easy enough when we snuck out before. Trolls are easily Stupefied, if they aren't already asleep on the job, that is. Goblins are easily bribed. But both together... Harry, it's impossible!"

The idea of putting goblins and trolls on patrol together was fairly recent. Harry had heard it was the Defense teacher's idea as a way to improve security. The goblins were the more intelligent of the two races and made certain the trolls didn't wander away from their posts. The trolls, meanwhile, made certain the goblins didn't take bribes from students, and they were better at handling heavy weaponry such as swords, spears, and halberds. And they were better at intimidating the students into following the rules.

"I have a plan. Trust me."

"Okay, so let's say you do get past the guards. There's still the matter of searching Filch's office ... and watching out for that bloody cat of his," Ron continued. "Besides, what if the map isn't in there? What if Crouch hid it somewhere, or destroyed it, or even ... maybe even gave it to You-Know-Who?"

"I don't even want to consider that last possibility," Harry said with a shudder. "Perhaps Crouch did destroy it. Perhaps it is gone. But I want to at least try to find it!"
"But Harry, why? Why is it worth the risk for you?"

Harry thought a moment as he started towards the corridor. "Because," he finally said. "It once belonged to my dad. And my godfather. And Lupin. And, it's part of my history, too."

"It was also Peter Pettigrew's," Ron muttered darkly. "His hand was in the making of it."

"Well, three out of four is a passing grade...even in Snape's class."

"Come on, admit it, Harry. The real reason you want it back is so that you can spy on Snape."

"Well, don't you?"

Welllll ... yeah, I guess so. I don't trust him, especially after what Jaspine Greggs told us. But...."

"But what?"

"You are risking detention or worse, you know."

"You are beginning to sound like Hermione, you know."

"Why don't you at least let me come with you? That way if you get caught and punished, you won't have to go it alone."

Harry stopped and turned at the narrow doorway that separated Gryffindor tower from the rest of the castle. "Because it will be faster and easier if I go alone. And you don't really want to go. You're only afraid that if you stay here and wait for me you might miss something."

"Harry..."

"Listen, I'll need someone to let me back in, especially if the Fat Lady falls asleep or goes away to visit Violet or another painting. So I'll need you to stay here and wait for me, and make sure you don't fall asleep while you're waiting! I will be back in one hour, unless I've been caught. If I don't return in one hour, then go back to bed and pretend like you have no idea what I'm doing tonight."

Ron frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, whatever. I'll stay here and wait if that's what you want. But don't get caught okay?"

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, a grin of triumph on his face. "I knew I could count on you."

"What are friends for?" Ron replied with a yawn and a bit of sarcasm. "So let's see this plan you have for getting past the guards out there. This should be interesting."

"Watch this," Harry said, his eyes alight. He removed the objects he had placed into his robe pocket earlier -- three silver Sickles -- opened the portrait a crack and tossed the coins out the door. The Sickles rolled across the cobblestone floor and plinked down the stairs. Two goblins spied the money and took off running after it. Three trolls gave chase, grunting and hollering in unintelligible syllables.

"Five guards!" Harry whispered in amazement as he draped the invisibility cloak over his head. "Wow, Dumbledore must really be afraid of Gryffindors sneaking out past curfew. Gee, I can't imagine why..."

Ron snickered. "Hmm... last time, there were only three guards. Do you think he suspects anything?"

Harry shrugged. "How should I know?"

Ron turned to Harry, a look of admiration on his face. "I can't believe you," he said with a grin. "How did you figure that out? No other Gryffindor, not even Hermione, has been able to think of a way to get past both the trolls and goblins!" His face clouded up again as he looked out the door. "Although Harry -- three Sickles?"

"Well, goblins can never resist money. You know that."

"But three Sickles! Three! Harry, that's good money!"

"But it served its purpose. I consider it well spent."

"Wouldn't one Sickle have worked just as well?"

"I doubt it. Anyway, they'll be back soon. We can talk about this later, but I better go!"

"All right, all right. Good luck. I think you're going to need it."

"Thanks," Harry said as he crept out the door.

Harry cleared the first stairwell just in time to see the trolls and goblins returning, arguing and swearing at each other in the guttural, grumbling tones of their respective languages. As quietly as he could, Harry continued down the next stairway and turned left. Three more stairwells, and he reached the corridor that led to Filch's office.

He took three steps down the corridor when he saw two trolls and a goblin approaching from the opposite direction. He hastily walked back towards the stairs and flattened himself against the railing until they marched passed.

The teen realized then he had been holding his breath, and the air in his lungs came out in a rush. Harry looked around. Silence. Not even the ghosts could be seen. He went again down the corridor towards the caretaker's office, stopping twice more to avoid being bumped into by patrolling guards.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry reached the outside of Filch's office. In reality, it had only been about forteen minutes, according to the new watch he had received from Sirius on his birthday, which not only told the time, date and month, but also gave the weather forecast on the watch's face: when it was sunny out, a sun icon appeared; when it was cloudy, white or gray clouds could be seen. If it were raining, dark clouds with tiny, brilliant lightening bolts could be seen. If it were snowing, tiny, crystalline snowflakes drifted across the watch face.

Harry was able to safely and quietly remove the alarm enchantments with his wand. A simple Alohamora took care of the deadbolt. Because Filch was a squib he didn't have any stronger spells in place. He wouldn't have been able to cast them, and he couldn't have gotten past stronger wards by himself. Imagine the disgrace of being locked out of your own office because you couldn't remove the magic wards, Harry thought as he entered the small, cluttered office and peered around cautiously. No sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris, which meant they were probably on patrol somewhere. Good.

A soft "Lumos" soon provided Harry with enough light to look around. The teen entered the room after one more cautious glance, and he started opening all of the cabinet and desk drawers, although he didn't go through any of the files, as tempted as he was to snoop. There wasn't enough time.

When Harry had opened every drawer, he took another cursory peek at the door to make certain no one was coming. Satisfied, he chanted softly but clearly "Accio, Maurader's Map!" and waited breathlessly.

Nothing. None of the papers crammed in Filch's many cabinets even rustled.

Harry was terribly disappointed, but not too surprised. Either he had goofed up the Summoning spell, or the map simply wasn't here. Harry tried again.

"Accio parchment!" he called out, remembering how "Moody" had Summoned the map a year ago. "Oh sh...!!!"

Harry threw up his arms and swore softly as a rainstorm of parchment paper flew at him from all directions. OK, that was a big mistake, he thought as he looked at the piles of student disciplinary records and notes surrounding him. What was that banishing spell again? Where was Hermione when you needed her? Harry thought, on the edge of panic. Filch would raise the roof of the castle if he came back and found his office like this.

"Expeliere!" Harry said. The parchment paper disappeared completely.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Harry whispered. "Accio parchment!" He was almost happy to have paper rain on him again.

Concentrating hard, Harry placed Leviosa charms on the individual stacks of papers and dumped them into the individual drawers. They were probably completely out of what Filch considered order, but the teen hoped that the caretaker would blame Peeves for the disorganized state of his files, and not snooping students. Harry took a cursory glance at the stacks of papers before filing them away, but didn't see anything that even remotely resembled the map.

After Harry dumped the last stack of papers squarely on Filch's desk he peeked out the door and looked to see if anyone was coming. Fortunately the coast was clear, and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief as he closed the door and locked it behind him. He then proceeded down the hallway, and he hoped that his disabling of the alarm enchantment on the door would wear off in time. Then again, even if it were permanent, knowing Filch it might be a while before he ever discovered that the alarm had been disabled. He was more likely to notice the complete rearrangement of his files first.

Harry's next stop on his hunt for the Marauder's Map would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, and it was likely to pose more of a challenge than Filch's office, the boy thought as he turned left and headed towards the stairwells again. Filch, of course, didn't have much in the way of magical locks and enchantments to prevent students from breaking in -- but Aurellia Deveroux almost certainly would. Would he be able to get past them? For once Harry almost wished Gilderoy Lockhart were still the Defense teacher. Even a first-year could get past whatever charms that dolt would have set up on his office and classroom -- mainly because Lockhart couldn't cast even the simplest spells without making an absolute muddle of things.

The teen's steps slowed as he reached the stairs and proceeded up them. He had a little less than half an hour to go before Ron would most likely leave his post and leave Harry at the mercy of a tattling portrait, who would certainly report to McGonagall and Dumbledore that a certain student was out past curfew -- again.

Half an hour left, Harry thought. He'd give himself ten -- fifteen minutes at most -- to try to get into the Defense classroom. If he had no luck, or if he was in imminent danger of getting cursed by a hex placed to ward off intruders, he would head back to the Gryffindor tower and think of another plan.

A sudden nearby "meow" startled Harry so badly that he leaped a good six inches straight in the air, and his heart jumped into his throat. Harry froze on the steps as he saw Filch come out of the corridor leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He held his breath and unconsciously wrapped the invisibility cloak tighter around himself. Mrs. Norris slinked past the old caretaker's legs and started up the steps toward Harry as Filch stopped on the landing and stared after her.

"Who's there?" he called crossly, holding up his lantern. "That you, Peeves? Or is it a student out of bed, eh?"

Mrs. Norris went right past Harry without a glance while the teen stifled a gasp and stared after her.

"It's me, Argus," came Snape's voice from the top of the stairwell. Uh oh, Harry thought as he suddenly realized that he was trapped on the stairwell between Snape and Filch. Why does he always manage to find me?

"And I am not in the mood to be bothered by that wretched cat of yours tonight! If you do not teach her to stay out of my way at night, then some morning you will be looking for a new familiar." Snape sounded extremely irritable for some reason. Harry thought again of what Jaspine had said a few weeks ago about how Snape hadn't been himself lately. They had been wrong to suspect Snape of serving Voldemort before... but what if this time they were wrong not to? What if Snape had caved in to pressure and gone back to him, albeit reluctantly? Was he now playing both sides?

"You touch Mrs. Norris and I'll kill yeh, Severus," Filch growled, waving a fist at the Potions master while Harry flattened himself against the railing and hoped that Snape and Filch wouldn't come any closer. There was no way they could pass him on the narrow staircase without bumping into him, and there was no way Harry could sneak past them. He had grown up a lot over the past several years, and right now he was sincerely wishing that he hadn't. Unfortunately, the invisibility cloak didn't make him intangible.

"Get in line," Snape snapped testily. "You are the least of my worries right now."

"You-Know-Who been botherin' you again?"

You-Know-Who? As in Voldemort? That You-Know-Who? Harry's ears perked up.

Snape snorted bitterly and started to descend the stairs. Harry froze and tried not to panic.

"Always. And Deveroux, and Hyran, and Potter, and Malfoy...the list of my enemies is growing faster than Sprout's magic beanstalks in Greenhouse Three." Snape continued down the steps. Filch came up a couple and stopped. Harry started to sweat profusely as he slowly inched his way down towards Filch. His heart was pounding with fear, and his legs felt like rubber bands. Snape was still coming down the steps.…

"So which one's got yeh up pacin' the halls tonight? All of them?"

"Oh it's him again. You ought to know that by now. He is driving me mad, Argus."

Him? Harry thought. Voldemort?

"He calls you at three in the morning? Blimey! I thought I was a nightowl!"

"He has changed. I don't think he sleeps at all any more. Quite honestly, it's terrifying. And he is running all of us ragged. Malfoy has been trying to hide the bags under his eyes with cosmetics. Macnair has been sleeping on the job at the Ministry--his people have been covering for him, of course, and I doubt that he will get caught. And Pettigrew, well, he gets more sleep these days than all of us put together. I think I actually envy him."

Harry huddled against the wall and bit his tongue to keep from laughing hysterically. This situation could not possibly get any worse! Here he was smack dab between Snape and Filch, so close that if either one reached out a hand they'd catch him. And it sure sounded like they were both in league with Voldemort. Or at the very least Snape was and Filch knew about it and approved of it.

"But surely he realizes that yeh have day jobs!" Filch exclaimed.

"He doesn't care, Argus," Snape stated bitterly. "He cares about nothing but his own ambition! He expects us to drop whatever we are doing or jump right out of bed and come running whenever he calls. He doesn't care that he is killing us, that half of us are living on Pervigil and the other half are sleepwalking through their days."

"Blimey!" Filch exclaimed, "I didn't know yeh was having such a time of it!"

Neither did I, thought Harry.

"So are yeh goin' tonight?" Filch wondered.

"I have not decided," Snape replied with a small sigh. "He is angry with me tonight. Moreso than usual."

Well, it served Snape right to get a taste of his own foul brew for once! But just for a moment Harry almost felt sorry for him. He sounded almost.…

Almost what?

Human?

"How kin yeh tell?"

Snape said, "I know when he is angry. The same way Potter knows." And the way he said this sent a cold shiver up Harry's spine. The teen bit his lip to keep from gasping. Snape could feel Voldemort's wrath through the Mark the same way Harry could feel it through his scar?

"Blimey!" the caretaker exclaimed again.

I'll bet you don't think I'm making up wild tales now, do you, Harry thought meanly, glaring at Filch and Snape in turn.

"Yeh be careful whatever yeh do," said Filch. "You're walkin' a mighty dangerous line."

You have no idea how right you are, thought Harry. And if you had Moody's eye, you'd see just how right you are.

"I don't need for you to tell me that, you cantankerous old fool," Snape retorted irritably, waving a hand dismissively.

Neither do I, thought Harry, just barely ducking in time.

Snape froze, clenched his hands angrily, and looked around suspiciously. "Lately, I have had the feeling that someone is watching me," he stated icily. "And the feeling is particularly strong tonight..."

Harry held his breath and forced himself to hold absolutely still as he crouched on the steps between Snape and Filch. Snape's clenched hand hovered right over him. Filch held his lantern higher and looked around as well. The light from the lantern spread further up and down the stairwell in both directions. At the top of the staircase behind Snape, Harry could see Mrs. Norris sitting there staring directly at him with her lamp-orange eyes. She'd probably be down here right now, clawing at Harry's cloak and meowing if she weren't so afraid of Snape.

Funny, Harry reflected with a sudden sinking realization, Mrs. Norris hadn't seemed to fear Snape until this year....

"Ah, yer jest jumpin' at shadows, Severus," Filch growled with a laugh. "Turn around yeh paranoid git, and look behind yeh."

Snape turned slowly and glared at the cat. Mrs. Norris twitched her tail. Filch snickered.

"Cado," Harry whispered, pointing his wand at a painting on the opposite wall and hoping Filch's snicker would mask his voice enough that Snape wouldn't hear.

Snape whirled and narrowed his eyes at Filch. "I suppose you think it's funny, Argus," he said, clenching a fist. "I would like to see you deal with him some night! That would wipe the smirk from your face!"

The painting Harry had targeted took a direct hit and fell from its hook.

Filch and Snape both jumped at the sound as it clattered to the floor.

"Dang that dratted poltergeist!" Filch shouted. "I tol' him to stop knockin' the paintings down or else!" He turned and hurried down the stairs, hollering threats about calling the Bloody Baron, and shaking a fist as he waved the lantern around. Harry darted down the stairs after Filch as quickly and quietly as possible. He could feel Snape's eyes on his back, but he didn't dare stop to see if Snape was following.

Ron and Hermione were never going to believe this one!

He had heard it with his own ears. Snape said that he had been dealing with Voldemort! Well, he didn't exactly say who he had been dealing with, but it sure sounded like Voldemort!

****

"Ron!" Harry whispered, shaking his sleeping friend. "Ron, wake up!"

"Uhhh," Ron groaned, turning away from Harry. "I'll study later, Hermione. OWLS are still nearly six months away."

"RON!" Harry whispered as loudly as he dared. He didn't want to wake Dean, Seamus, and Neville lest they start wondering what he was doing up and around in the middle of the night. They'd ask too many questions, and Harry definitely wasn't about to tell them of his suspicions concerning Snape. Not when he had already cried wolf several times in the past.

Harry shook his friend again, "COME ON, RON! WAKE UP!"

Ron didn't even stir this time.

Harry drew his wand. "All right. You leave me no choice," he whispered. "Ennervate!"

Ron sat bolt upright with a gasp. "Who is it! What's going on!"

"Shhhh!" Harry hissed. "It's me!"

"Harry? What do you want? And how did you get back in? Sorry, but I thought you had been ... did you get caught?"

"Shhh," Harry whispered again. "No, I didn't get caught ..."

"Then how'd you get past...?"

"I had three more Sickles, but the Fat Lady made a fuss about letting me back in. I hope she forgets about this by tomorrow and doesn't tell Angelina on me."

"Three more Sickles! Gee, I wish I had that kind of money to throw around. What time is it, anyway? Oh no, don't tell me it's time for Quidditch practice already!"

"No, there's no Quidditch practice. We're off tomorrow, remember? I wanted to tell you about something I overheard while I was looking for the Marauder's Map."

"Did you find it, Harry?" Ron whispered hopefully.

"No. It's not in Filch's office. I looked everywhere, but no luck. And I never got to search the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I didn't make it that far. I almost got caught by Snape on the stairwell. But I found out something interesting about him..."

"What? Were you spying on him, Harry? You're nutters, you know. If he ever does catch you..." Ron was obviously annoyed that Harry had awakened him just to tell him something about Snape.

"Listen, I overheard him talking to Filch tonight. He said he was working for Vold...You-Know-Who," Harry said.

"Did he really?" Ron queried, his jaw dropping in shock. He was all ears now. "What did he say exactly?"

Harry thought for a moment, trying to recall the exact words of the conversation. "Well, he didn't actually say who he was working for, and he didn't come right out and say that he was working for him. But he said something about knowing when 'he' is angry the same way I know." He pointed to the scar underneath his shaggy black hair and Ron gasped.

"Do you think..." Ron began, then gulped nervously. "Do you think he was talking about the Mark?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm pretty sure he was."

"Do you realize what that means?" said Ron.

"Duh!" Harry retorted. "I may have been raised by Muggles, but I'm not stupid! Of course I know what it means. He's gone back over to the Dark Side...if he ever really left it."

"Blimey!" Ron whispered, fear on his face. "We had better tell Hermione first thing tomorrow. She'll know what to do next."

"I know what to do next," Harry asserted. "I'm going straight to Dumbledore with this."

"Are you mad?" Ron countered. "What do you think you're going to tell him? He already knows about the Mark. Snape's past isn't a big secret anymore, not since last year. And if Dumbledore hasn't already thrown him out for that, then I hardly think he's going to listen to you. Especially since you and Snape hate each other and would leap at any excuse to get the other one kicked out of Hogwarts. Not that I would mind if you did manage to get him kicked out. I think it would be even grander than winning the Quidditch Cup this year. But Harry, I doubt..."

"I know what I heard!" Harry whispered fiercely.

"Yes, in the middle of the night, hours past curfew, with an invisibility cloak over you." Ron pointed out. "Do you think Dumbledore is going to care about what you overheard when you tell him how you overheard it?"

"You sound just like Hermione!" Harry whispered in disgust. "I thought you of all people would understand."

"I do understand!" Ron whispered back. "Okay, maybe You-Know-Who didn't curse my parents, but I know how I'd feel about it if he did. But Harry, you can't just go around making accusations without anything to back it up. You can't go to Dumbledore about this unless you can find a way to prove that Snape is working for Him. Otherwise he'll never believe you."

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll talk to Jaspine then. Right now, I'm starting to like her idea."

"No, Harry!" Ron whispered quickly. "She's a Slytherin. I don't trust her."

"Oh, okay," Harry retorted. "Maybe I'll just sit back and do nothing then. I'll just wait right here until Snape kills somebody, or knocks me out and hands me over to Voldemort, or tries to take over the school like he's been wanting to do for years."

"Stop it!" Ron hissed angrily. "Just stop it, okay! Go back to bed. Go to sleep. Snape isn't going to do anything tonight. The school will still be standing tomorrow morning, and we can talk to Hermione about this then. Goodnight."

Harry snorted and left. You're a big help you big chicken, he thought, climbing back into his bed. Bet you'd feel differently if Voldemort had killed your parents and tried to kill you too.

He brushed the scar gingerly with his fingers and realized that it wasn't burning. It hadn't burned once the entire evening.

****

Hermione wore a pair of fuzzy pink slippers and a pink nightrobe, and her hair was tangled and unbrushed, her eyes half-open as she shuffled sleepily down the stairs from the girls' dormitory. A wide-awake, almost chipper Hedwig was perched on her shoulder, but Hermione, in contrast, wore a rather cranky do-you-have-any-bloody-idea-what-time-it-is expression on her face. Crookshanks trotted along behind her looking twice as cross if such were possible, but then Crookshanks always wore that expression.

At the bottom of the steps Hermione gave a huge yawn, then crossed the common room to where Harry and Ron were waiting for her by the fireplace.

"Hermione! There you are!" Harry greeted.

"Took you long enough!" Ron added.

"All right, Harry," the brown-haired girl began testily, "Why did I wake up at 5 a.m. this morning with Hedwig chewing on my ear like an owl treat? This had better be good."

"It's Snape," Harry replied bluntly. "I know he's working for Voldemort. I wanted to tell you last night, but Ron talked me into waiting until morning."

Hermione blinked and squinted out the windows of the common room toward the orange-hued eastern horizon where the late October sun was just beginning to rise. "My definition of morning won't be here for about another hour and a half, Harry. Couldn't this have waited until then?"

"No," Harry stated emphatically. "Because we have to talk this over now before the others get up. I don't want them to listen in and find out that I was sneaking around again last night, and I certainly don't want word to get back to Snape about what I know. And this can't wait until after classes, because it's important that we decide what to do about it now. Hermione, I overheard Snape talking to Filch last night while I was trying to find the Marauder's Map. He was complaining about working for You-Know-Who."

Hermione gasped. "Are you sure? Did he come right out and say it, just like that?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Oh go on, Harry," Ron said. "Tell her what you told me. Snape didn't come right out and say that he was working for Him, he only mentioned the Mark and said that he could tell when You-Know-Who was angry the same way you can tell because your scar hurts."

"What else did he say?" Hermione prodded, a concerned look on her face.

"Hmm..." Harry murmured, thinking back. It was difficult to remember exactly what he had heard on that dark stairwell the night before. He had been so preoccupied with avoiding discovery.

"Well he mentioned Malfoy, Macnair, Crabbe, and Goyle, and all of them were among the Death Eaters I saw that night when Voldemort came back. And he said that someone, I think We Know Who, was running them all ragged. And he said that You-Know-Who was angry with him last night, and Filch said that he was walking a dangerous line. Snape sounded funny last night, angry, but it was a desperate sort of angry."

"Afraid," Hermione suggested. "Like maybe he's under a lot of pressure from both sides and doesn't know what to do about it."

"Yeah," Harry decided. "I think so. Like that night at the Yule Ball when Karkaroff was talking about running. Funny, I don't think I ever pictured Snape as being afraid of anything. But then I met Him...Voldemort. And now I know why everyone is afraid of Him, even Snape."

"So, do you think Snape is working for You-Know-Who because, you know, he's afraid of what will happen if he refuses?" Ron asked.

"Maybe," Harry conceded. "But even if he is working for Voldemort out of fear instead of devotion, that doesn't change the fact that he's our enemy, and he's dangerous. Remember Peter Pettigrew?"

"I think," Hermione said thoughtfully, "that you are both jumping to conclusions. It sounds to me like Voldemort has been threatening the ones who haven't gone back to him, trying to pressure them into doing what he wants."

"They were there, Hermione! Malfoy and the others were there that night! They've already gone back to Him!" Harry protested hotly.

"But Snape wasn't. And that's why Voldemort is angry with him. That's why his Mark is bothering him. That's why he's scared," Hermione reasoned.

"Maybe," Harry said dubiously. "But then why would Filch warn him that he's walking a dangerous line?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Maybe Snape has been lying to Voldemort, stalling for time, making promises he doesn't intend to keep."

"Or maybe he has given in, he and Filch both, and they're afraid that Dumbledore and the others will find out," Ron argued.

"Harry, did your scar bother you last night?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"No," Harry replied, unconsciously reaching up a hand to touch the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead. "But that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It only hurts when Voldemort himself is around, or when he's thinking about doing me in. I don't think it works on Death Eaters."

"To tell you the truth, Harry," Hermione decided with a sympathetic look, "I really don't know what to think. It could be that Snape has gone back to Him, but I wonder if there is more going on here."

"I was so sure last night, but now..." Harry sighed irritably. "I just wish I knew for sure, one way or the other."

"Why don't you tell Sirius?" Ron suggested. "Maybe he'll have some advice."

"Oh yes," Harry said crossly. "And I know exactly what sort of advice he'll give me too."

"Really?" Ron asked.

"He'll lecture me for sneaking around at three in the morning with an invisibility cloak, and tell Dumbledore to confiscate it. Ever since Voldemort has come back he's no fun at all any more. All he does is worry about me constantly and nag at me to be careful."

"Sounds just like me Mum," Ron interrupted with a grimace.

"No way, I'm not telling him about this!" Harry decided. "But you know..." he paused and thought for a moment. "I just remembered something. Last year when I was in the infirmary, the night Voldemort came back, I overheard Dumbledore telling Sirius to gather the old crowd, and he sent Snape to do...something. I remember that he looked worried when Snape left. Oh, I think I'd trade my Firebolt to find out what that was all about!"

"Would you really?!" Ron exclaimed, his mouth dropping in shock. Hermione stared at Harry skeptically.

"Well...maybe the old Nimbus 2000," Harry hedged. "But not the Firebolt," he decided.

"I thought not," Hermione remarked.

"Well we already know that Dumbledore trusts Snape completely," Ron pointed out. "And so do Hagrid and the rest of the teachers. What we don't know is whether that trust is misplaced. After all, Dumbledore was fooled along with the rest of us by the fake Moody."

"Good point," Hermione admitted with a small frown. "Frankly I detest Snape, and I think he's the sort who would go back to Voldemort if he had enough to gain by it. But I don't think we have enough evidence to condemn him as a traitor, yet. I think..."

"Good morning!"

Hermione's jaw closed with a snap as Angelina Johnson came into he room, her eyes blinking sleepily.

"Are you about ready for practice, you two?" Angelina asked. "Because remember, we are going over ...."

"We don't have practice this morning," Harry cut in.

"Yeah, next practice is Friday, before supper," Ron added.

"Then what are you three doing up so early then?" Angelina asked as she stretched and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"We have a Transfiguration quiz today," Hermione said quickly. "We're just going over some things that we think may be covered."

"Good luck," Angelina said with a sleepy grin. "Professor McGonagall is tough. Only professor who gives harder quizzes is Snape. Then again, Deveroux has been getting quite a few complaints about being tough lately, too."

By this time, three other students were coming down the stairs, yawning and stretching. Hermione beckoned Harry and Ron closer as Angelina walked back up to the dorms to get dressed. She kept her voice low so no one else could hear her next words.

"I think," Hermione decided, "that we ought not to do anything right now but keep our eyes and ears open. And study for our OWLS."

"Oh, don't start in about that again," Ron grouched, rolling his eyes.

****

Note: The song, "If You Go To San Fransisco..." is not mine. It is the property of John Phillips. I'm just borrowing it, with no profit to me, because it just sooo fit!