All hell broke loose that night.

Dumbledore took off for his meeting, after waving away Snape's protests that the meeting could surely wait once the Stone was safely disposed of after the semester had ended. The teachers prepared the Slytherin decorations (Snape almost jigged at McGonagall's sour expression) and made ready for the final day activities. He posted the last results of the potions exams (everyone passed, even Longbottom) and then Snape made one circuit around the third floor to make sure the Stone's door was still closed and Fluffy was still growling away.

All looked well and Snape didn't like it. With nothing left to do though, all he could do was go to his rooms and wait for McGonagall to fetch him for rounds.

She knocked at his door promptly at ten o'clock and they began in the dungeons, working their way up to Madame Trelawney's divinations' tower. McGonagall insisted on saving the third floor for last. "We can guard it for a bit before going 'round again," she informed him with pursed lips. Snape made a face behind her back.

They got to the door to find it closed and Fluffy growling softly within. McGonagall gave him a look that clearly said 'You were worried?' He ignored it and kept watching the shadows but saw nothing. After about fifteen minutes of silence, McGonagall snorted and started the rounds again. Reluctantly Snape followed.

An hour later they were on their way back to the third floor when Flitwick came scurrying up to them, squeaking out his breath. "Dumbledore said to meet him on the third floor!" There was no question as to what Flitwick meant. All three professors thundered down the halls and corridors, heading for the third floor and bowling past Peeves, who was peering into the girls bathroom through a keyhole.

The three of them skidded to a halt to find Fluffy curled up and sleeping peacefully in a corner of the room, all three heads drooling lazily. The dog didn't even stir when they entered. The trap door was swung open and Snape poked his head through it.

"Lumos!" he exclaimed and his wand lit up. "Devil's Snare, that would be Flitwick's!"

"Of course it's Flitwick's, you dolt," snapped McGonagall, shoving him out of the way. "She was last before Hagrid's dog!"

Snape growled at her but she ignored him and jumped down. The other two professors jumped down after her. "Inferno!" she shouted and flames spurted from her wand. The vines of the Devil's Snare reared back and plastered itself against the wall to get away from the burning tongues.

"Come on!" growled Snape, rushing forward, his heart hammering in his chest. "It's Quirrell! I knew the headmaster's leaving was wrong!" McGonagall said nothing but her eyes were wide with apprehension. Flitwick's squeaky gasps of air mingled with the other two professors puffing as they rushed down the cold and damp corridor.

Snape shoved open a door and they came face to face with flying winged keys. "Those would be mine," panted Flitwick, "but I can get through the door without it."

"So can I," Snape said grimly and he fired a flame ball through the door on the other side of the room. A dozen keys fell on them in a dead faint as they ran through the room.

"This, I suppose," Snape said churlishly to McGonagall, "is your idea of a trap?"

McGonagall sniffed. "At least mine requires some..." She gasped when she heard a moan from the other side of the board. "Weasley!" she cried and dodged around the frozen chess peices.

The two male professors followed and sure enough, Ron Weasley was groggily coming to with an egg-sized lump on his head. Sitting next to him, her face pale and her lips trembling was Hermione Granger. "I couldn't get him to wake up," she said.

"He's okay, my dear," consoled Flitwick.

"What are you two doing here?" Snape and McGonagall said in unison. They glared at each other.

Hermione explained that they had thought that the Philosopher's Stone was in danger and had resolved to try and guard it. McGonagall's lips pursed when Granger shame-facedly confessed that the trio of Gryffindors had thought Snape would be the thief.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she ended, valiantly trying to look Snape in the eye.

"Where's Potter?" he snapped.

"I figured out your puzzle," the girl said with tremulous pride. "Harry went through to the next trap and I came back to help Ron."

"Potter's alone?" gasped McGonagall.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Professor Dumbledore came through a few moments ago and he..."

The door burst open and Snape saw his flame trap was fading away. McGonagall gave him an appreciative once over and Snape found himself flushing a bit. Through the door came Dumbledore, carrying an unconscious Harry Potter. McGonagall ran over to help but Dumbledore waved her off. "I'd rather you and Severus took care of what's left of Quirrell." He motioned with a tilt of his head back where he came. "Your trap is nulled, Severus."

Both professors nodded, leaving Dumbledore and Flitwick with the three students.

McGonagall stopped a moment to peruse Snape's trap and then followed Snape through the other fading flame door. "Very impressive, Severus," she intoned. "I knew you were formidable, but..."

"Save it for later, Minerva," Snape said as he approached the fallen form of Quirrell. The man was crumpled like a rag doll. Snape nudged him with his foot. "This one's wasted."

"Really!" hurrumphed McGonagall, stooping down to examine Quirrell herself. "What a thing to say!"

"Trust me when I know what I'm talking about," Snape said dryly. "Odds are good that Quirrell's a vegetable." He stared dispassionately at Quirrell. "Or better off as one."

McGonagall had nothing to say to that.

Snape walked over to the only other object in the room. "Well, well, well, the Mirror of Erised. I wondered what he was keeping in that room."

McGonagall stood up and stared at the rare item. "That must have been Professor Dumbledore's trap."

"Oh, you think?" Snape said in mock-sarcasm, but he patted her shoulder to lessen the sting. He peered in. "I always wondered what I'd see..." His voice trailed off as the answer was revealed.

"What do you see, Severus?" McGonagall asked, bashing Quirrell in the head when he moaned.

Snape pulled his eyes away from the mirror and McGonagall was startled to see wonder there. "Nothing." She wisely kept her council.

They picked Quirrell up, after binding him and leg-locking him, and exited the room.

The school was abuzz the next morning of Potter, Weasley and Granger's daring escapade against Quirrell possessed of the Dark Side. Naturally rumors of Voldemort being involved spread, but were discounted as just rumor because everyone knew that You-Know-Who was dead.

If Snape had doubts before, they were completely gone. Dumbledore was of the same mind. McGonagall was still indecisive.

"Where has he been all this time?" she sputtered half-heartedly.

"It's commonly called recuperating," Snape informed her.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "No matter what, this whole thing bears watching. We need to keep our eyes and ears open in the next few years, both at home and abroad." On that the two professors agreed.

Potter woke up from his brush with Voldemort and Dumbledore visited him. Soon the young Mr. Potter was released from the infirmary and it was time for everyone to go home and put it all behind them. Quirrell found himself visiting Azkaban Prison, much to Snape's delight, and the hall was decorated with the Slytherin colors of red and gold.

Dumbledore stood up to announce the winner of the house cup and Snape felt his chest tighten when Dumbledore actually gave him a brief apologetic look.

"Another year gone! And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it's been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were...you have the whole summer ahead to get them empty before next year starts..." The teachers all exchanged wry glances. "Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

The room exploded with cheering Slytherin and Snape grinned at a sour-faced McGonagall. Dumbledore gave Snape another apologetic look that wiped the smile off the potion professor's face.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore continued over the din. "However recent events must be taken into account." Snape slid back into his chair. Dumbledore wouldn't, would he? "Ahem, I have a few last minutes points to dish out. Let me see. Yes..." Dumbledore looked toward the ceiling as if thinking. "First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor fifty points."

Snape frowned. "It wasn't that spectacular," he grumbled, but no one heard him despite the silence.

"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Snape shot Granger, McGonagall and Dumbledore a venomous look.

"Third -- to Mr. Harry Potter...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The room exploded. Gryffindors were shouting at Slytherins that the two houses were tied. Slytherins were protesting the point change and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were excited that Slytherin might not win after all.

Snape sunk lower into his chair and scowled at the tablecloth. 'Humiliating, that's what it is!' he thought to himself. 'To share house cup with Gryffindor, it's just unfair!'

The room fell silent when Dumbledore began to speak. At the words, Snape looked over at the headmaster in dawning horror. He wouldn't. He couldn't!

"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Snape sat up bolt straight and felt his jaw drop in shock as the room exploded with ecstatic Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and most horrifying of all, Gryffindors. Over the din, Dumbledore could be heard to say, "Which means we need a little change of decoration."

Swallowing his pride, Snape stood up and walked over to Professor Minerva McGonagall's chair. He looked down at her and forced a smile as best he could, sticking out his hand to shake it with as much sportsmanship as he could muster.

"Thank you, Severus," she said over the noise. "I know that was hard for you." Snape gritted his teeth and turned away. His eyes met Harry Potter's and hardened.

'Blast you, James, and blast your son.' Potter turned away and Snape collapsed in his chair as food appeared on his plate and on the table.

He'd been right. This year had been especially miserable. Thank God the summer was going to be quiet. He might even suffer through his whining sisters for a couple months.

Looking at Potter, Weasley, Granger and Longbottom, he changed his mind. No, no man was that courageous.