The office felt heavy.
Portraits on the walls watched in silence as Snape finally spoke. "So the Dark Lord… will return."
"At the very least, we should assume so," Dumbledore said with a quiet sigh. "Even in his current weakened state."
Snape stared at the floor. "Is there nothing you can do?"
"It's difficult, Severus." Dumbledore rose and walked to his desk. "His understanding of the soul runs deeper than mine. I can't be certain of anything."
"Last night I watched him tear free of Quirrell. The form he took was… wrong."
Snape's mouth tightened. What Voldemort had done was not something any ordinary wizard could replicate. Not unless the person had already stopped being human.
"Still," Dumbledore continued, "I noticed something else."
He glanced at Fawkes on his shoulder. The phoenix gave a soft trill.
"Rock?" Snape asked, turning to look at him.
"Indeed. You cannot imagine what a first-year accomplished in under an hour—creating a spell woven from three separate charms."
"And Voldemort feared it."
Dumbledore's mouth curved into the smallest smile.
Snape stood, voice low. "Then I hope you remember one thing. Rock is still only eleven years old."
Dumbledore studied him with mild surprise. "You seem… different."
"Whether I'm different or not doesn't matter. My goal has never changed. You know that better than anyone."
Snape turned sharply, black robes flaring behind him.
"Yes," Dumbledore said to his retreating back. "I've always known. Our goals have always been the same."
"Harry!"
The next morning, Hermione finally burst into the hospital wing. She spotted Harry on one of the beds and launched herself at him.
"Thank God. I thought you were really hurt."
She pulled back after a moment, eyes glassy.
Before Harry could answer, Ron's voice drifted over, thick with resentment. "Maybe you could spare a thought for me. Harry only passed out for a bit."
Hermione turned. Ron's leg was in a cast and suspended in the air. He looked far worse off than the completely unscathed Harry.
"Oh no—what happened? You just fell!"
Ron shut his mouth. He wasn't about to admit he'd seen Snape and fallen again out of sheer terror. Too embarrassing.
"Harry," Hermione asked, "where's Rock?"
Harry had been wondering the same thing since he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't told him anything.
Hermione frowned. "Rock? I don't know. After I drank the return potion last night I went straight to find Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Before I could get back, Professor Snape showed up and spoke with McGonagall. She sent me back to the common room."
Harry sat up. "Rock had the Stone. He showed up in the final room and used some kind of spell on Quirrell—on You-Know-Who."
"Stop!" Ron's face went white. He actually trembled.
Harry corrected himself quickly. "Voldemort."
Hermione's eyes widened as pieces clicked into place. "That explains everything. The troll that night—it had to be him too."
Harry and Ron stared at her.
"When the troll got in, Rock must have helped us. Every time I tried to ask him about it later, he changed the subject."
Ron looked confused. "But why would he hide it? That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Maybe he was protecting the Stone," Harry said slowly.
Hermione nodded. "That makes sense. Who would go around telling people they were carrying the Philosopher's Stone?"
Ron shook his head. "Still… it's not exactly normal student behavior."
While the three of them talked, Rock was standing in Snape's office, watching the man brew.
"Don't lose focus," Snape said coldly.
"Sorry, Professor."
Snape didn't look up from the cauldron. "Quirrell has been sent to St. Mungo's. Before he left, he had a message for you."
Rock blinked. Probably something grateful. Snape would never repeat it nicely.
As if reading his mind, Snape added, "Two extra potion essays over the holidays."
"Yes, Professor."
Rock kept his eyes on the cauldron and described what he saw through his perception as Snape worked. He spent the entire day like this.
By the time the final potion was finished, Snape had added several more papers to Rock's holiday workload before finally dismissing him.
"Little Rock, do you have a moment for an old man?"
Dumbledore's voice greeted him the moment Rock stepped into the corridor. The headmaster had clearly been waiting.
Rock glanced back at Snape's closed door. Couldn't anyone let him rest for five minutes?
"Oh, and your house-elf mentioned you hadn't eaten yet. I had a proper meal prepared for you in my office."
Dumbledore stepped aside in invitation.
Dobby. Rock did want to see him. With Dumbledore already here, he had little choice but to follow.
When they entered the office, Dobby was standing stiffly by the desk. The moment he saw Rock he lit up.
"Little master!"
Dumbledore patted Rock's shoulder. "He insisted on making you a feast. It's not often someone dines in the headmaster's office."