"It was after the celebration. Everyone else was still in the Great Hall, but I had to put my broom away in the shed.
You know who I saw?"
"Who?"
"Snape!" Harry's voice rose. "He was wearing a black hood. While everyone else was eating dinner, he slipped out alone and headed straight for the Forbidden Forest.
I followed him on my broom, staying high above the treetops."
"He was probably up to something nasty again," Ron said angrily.
"Worse than that. You know who else was in the forest? Quirrell."
Harry launched into a detailed retelling of the conversation he'd overheard.
"Have you figured out how to handle Hagrid's beast yet?"
"But—Severus—" Snape's voice came out low and cold. "Don't think I don't know anything. That injury last time wasn't an accident, was it?"
"Wh—what? I—didn't—"
"Good." Snape cut him off, his tone casual but carrying a clear threat. "We'll speak again soon. Once you've had time to decide exactly who you're going to serve."
When Harry finished, Hermione looked stunned. "So Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him tame Fluffy?"
"Exactly. He's threatening him into joining up," Harry said, nodding fast.
"But what did he mean by 'that injury wasn't an accident'?" Ron asked, frowning.
"It was during the first match!" Harry explained quickly. "When Quirrell jumped off the stands. There's no way he just decided to do that for no reason.
Snape was warning him. That means Snape was the one who cursed him and made him fall. It was a message.
So if Quirrell still refuses to help Snape get the Stone, Snape might use the curse again… or worse."
Harry's voice dropped. He didn't finish the sentence, but the word hung in the air anyway.
Kill.
Hermione covered her mouth, eyes wide. "He might actually kill him? That's—that's horrible!"
"It has to be," Ron said firmly. "Snape even said they'd talk again once Quirrell decided who he was going to serve.
Who else would that be besides You-Know-Who?
Snape wants the Stone for him. He's always been loyal to You-Know-Who."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "But You-Know-Who is dead. Harry killed him."
"That's exactly why he needs the Stone," Ron said, looking at her like she was missing something obvious. "The Stone makes the Elixir of Life. It could… it could…"
"Maybe it has enough life force in it to bring someone back," Charlie offered, finishing the thought.
"Exactly," Ron said, nodding.
Charlie kept his real thought to himself: The books never said that.
"The books don't say the Stone can do that," Hermione argued.
Charlie smiled to himself.
Harry caught the expression and turned to him. "What do you think, Charlie?"
"Me? I don't really have an opinion."
He still wasn't sure why Harry had dragged him into this in the first place.
"Fine. We need to tell Dumbledore, right? Charlie… could you do it again?"
"Me?" Charlie blinked. "I mean, sure, but why don't you go yourself?"
"I don't even know where his office is," Harry admitted, looking embarrassed.
Charlie shook his head. Somehow delivering a message to Dumbledore had become this huge, special skill in Harry's mind.
"All right. We'll go now. You're coming with me."
"I have to go too?"
"Obviously. How am I supposed to get the message through if you're not there?
The Boy Who Lived carries a little more weight than some random first-year Ravenclaw, don't you think?"
"Then let's go," Harry said, trying to sound braver than he felt.
They left the empty classroom, said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and headed upstairs. On the third floor they found the stone gargoyle.
"Password!"
"Chocolate Frog?" Charlie guessed.
"Wrong."
"Lemon Sherbet?"
"No."
"Zonko's Honeydukes special?" Charlie tapped his chin.
"If you don't know the password, stop wasting my time. Do you think I let every student who wants to bother the headmaster stand here guessing?"
"Fine, fine." Charlie laughed it off, completely unbothered.
He stepped behind Harry and gave him a gentle push forward. "Harry Potter needs to see Professor Dumbledore. It's important. Extremely important."
The gargoyle went quiet, clearly thinking.
Just as Charlie started to wonder what was happening, something caught his eye on the right side of the corridor.
A single bright red feather drifted in through the window, carried by an invisible breeze. It floated down the hallway and landed softly in Charlie's open hand.
The moment his fingers closed around it, the feather burst into flame and vanished.
Charlie stared at his empty palm for a second, then said, "All right… Dream Chocolate."
"Password accepted."
The gargoyle slid aside, revealing the dark spiral staircase behind it.
Harry gave Charlie a strange look. Dream Chocolate? The same Dream Chocolate?
Charlie caught the look and shrugged helplessly. "Don't look at me like that. I had no idea either."
They stepped onto the stairs. As they rose, Harry glanced around nervously, though there wasn't much to see besides cold stone walls. He was clearly just trying to distract himself from how tense he felt.
At the top they entered the circular office. Dumbledore was already seated behind his desk.
"Good evening. I hope you two have already had dinner. I don't have enough food up here for guests."
Charlie's stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud growl.
"Apparently there's still a little room," Dumbledore said with a smile, giving Charlie a wink.
A plate of pudding suddenly appeared on the desk.
It was bright yellow and jiggly. Mango? Charlie wondered.
"Looks like your dessert, Professor," he said politely. "I wouldn't want to steal it from you."
"What a shame," Dumbledore replied, though his eyes twinkled with clear amusement.
"Now, what brings you here? You'd better speak quickly. If you hurry, you might still make it down to the Great Hall in time for pudding. It really is excellent—trust me."