The Potions Master

"I'm just sad I didn't get to see his face when he read the Daily Prophet," Malfoy sniggered. Several Slytherins laughed as well. "I'll bet he was like, 'BWAH,'" he said, making a face that would match 'BWAH' rather well, in fact.

"Teach him to mess with Slytherin in our own dungeon," Crabbe (or Goyle) said.

"Yeah, shows him to mess with us in our own classroom," said Goyle (or Crabbe).

"And for that time on the train," Crabbe (probably) added.

"Yeah, that time on the Hogwarts express," said Goyle.

"Yeah, and for when Potter got the Remembrall from you," Crabbed continued.

"Yeah, for that time he showed you up in flying in front of everyone and got Longbottom's Remembrall," Goyle clarified.

"And then when he got put on the Quidditch team even though first years aren't allowed."

"Yeah, for when the teachers were so impressed at how great his flying was that he became the youngest Seeker in a century," said Goyle.

"In future," Malfoy said coldly, "could you two not list out every time they've shown us up whenever I have a victory?"

"Sorry boss," said Crabbe. "It's just that they have so, you know, many of them."

"Yeah boss," said Goyle. "They have so many, and they're real easy to remember, because everyone always talks about them."

Malfoy sighed. He wondered if the warranty had expired, or if he couldn't just send these two back for a pair of shiny, new goons.

o—o—o—o

"I can't help but feel like there was something I was supposed to do this morning," Milo said as he walked back to the castle from the forest, "but I just can't remember what it was. Can't have been very important."

o—o—o—o

Hermione was forced to admit to herself, however reluctantly, that she was dead bored. The three boys were total morons, but they did make things interesting. She wondered if there was some way she could work her way back into their preposterous plan without looking exceedingly foolish. She applied her towering intellect to the problem, hypothesized various scenarios and predicted their likely outcomes, and thirty seconds later said:

"Nope."

Hermione sighed. It wasn't even that their points were even slightly convincing, it was just that it was sort of fun, in a dark way, to imagine that You-Know-Who really was returning and that he was after the Stone and Snape was a dark wizard...

"But I can't go back on my position," she reminded herself. "Or I'll look like an idiot."

"Yes, but just think," she countered, "what if it is true? What if Snape is trying to get the Stone for You-Know-Who? Shouldn't I be helping put a stop to this?"

"If it is, Dumbledore would know, and he would do something. He's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, after all."

"But Dumbledore is just one person," the other side of her argued, "he could get caught by surprise, or called away, or be sleeping, or distracted, or anything."

"But if Dumbledore isn't enough, how could I possibly help? I'm barely twelve."

"Is that what everyone said in the last war?" she questioned herself. "Did they just say, 'I'm only a dressmaker, Dumbledore will take care of it, and in any case my marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts were rubbish,' and nobody did anything?"

"Doing the opposite and going on a witch hunt now will only make things worse," she protested. "There's no knowing where it will end."

"Without a witch hunt, you'll never catch witches."

"I am a witch!"

"You—er, I—know what I mean."

"So I'll just wait until there's proof," she said, "and then I'll help in any way that I can. How is that not reasonable?"

"Just think, Hermione, think. You—er, I—know what the problem is."

She sighed.

"It's that it's Harry and Ron that I'm depending on to find conclusive proof," she said defeatedly.

o—o—o—o

"Professor," Harry asked the ghost of Professor Binns politely, "Ron and I were wondering if you could help us on a little independent research?"

"Research—my help—independent—why, I'd be delighted!" the ghost said. "Would you believe that in all my years of teaching, no student has ever asked me that? What is it you need to know?"

"Nicolas Flamel," Ron said. "He just seemed like such a... a... uh, a dynamic and interesting—"

"—historically significant—" Harry added.

"—yeah, historically significant, dynamic, interesting, historical, erm a, figure." Ron finished lamely.

"And we'd love to hear everything you know about him," Harry said. For some unimaginable reason, most of the library seemed to be checked out already (maybe they were doing some re-organizing?) so they'd resorted to actually asking a professor for help. It seemed to rub Harry the wrong way, somehow, going to an adult, but it was all they could come up with.

Harry diligently tried, he really did, to listen to everything Binns said about Flamel and to stay awake while doing so, but the stone's texture in the floor was just so much more interesting. Ron's eyes developed a glassy look in under five minutes (glassier than usual, that is), and by the third hour Harry wasn't quite sure that he didn't look the at least as bad.

"Well," he said after they'd (finally) left Binns' office, "that was, uh, interesting."

"Was it?" Ron asked. "Glad to hear it."

"I think," Harry said, "that we might need Hermione."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that, mate," Ron said with a sigh. "Did we learn anything important, though?"

Harry shrugged.

"Flamel's a big, powerful wizard and master alchemist who found out how to create a Philosopher's Stone—turns out, it's not necessarily a unique object, but he only ever made the one, anyway—which can turn lead into gold and create the Elixir of Life. He used to fight Dark Wizards, but decided to retire with his wife way back, and he's been sort of neutral since then. Keeps to himself, mostly."

"So, nothing we didn't already know," Ron said. "Great, just great. Well, there went our Saturday, eh?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I hope Milo found something more useful in the Forbidden Forest."

"And that he didn't get eaten by werewolves," Ron added.

o—o—o—o

Milo, in a rare moment of luck, made a Listen check successfully. He almost wished he hadn't. He'd hoped to get out of the woods without the mandatory random encounter.

"Invisibility," he said as he faded from sight. Hope it's not a false alarm, he thought. That was my last 2nd-level spell.

All he'd heard was movement in the shrubs, and it could have been caused by anything. Really, when it came down to it, Milo not only didn't know what kind of creatures lived in this forest, but this world. Bugbears? Owlbears? Dire bears? Giant bears? Shapeshifted druids in the form of bears? Gods help him, grizzly bears?

As it turned out, it was far, far worse than any form of bear or bear-like monstrosity.

It was Professor Snape.

Is he here looking for me? Or is he the one killing unicorns, and he's going for another one? I could follow him, Milo thought, but Invisibility only lasts four minutes. And if I run into trouble, I'm already out of spells. Milo bit his lip. I feel like Harry Potter would for sure, but... well... this is a job for a Rogue. I've got no business sneaking around in a forest, tailing people. I'm a Wizard, I should have people for this. He frowned.

"Hey, Mordy," he whispered, "time to put that +10 bonus to Move Silently to use." Mordenkainen, who had been sitting on his shoulder, nodded gravely (although Milo couldn't see, because the familiar was as invisible as he was) and scampered noiselessly after the Potions Master.

o—o—o—o

"You're late," Lucius hissed. "You were supposed to be here forty-seven seconds ago."

Snape said nothing.

"I need a favour," Lucius said. "It would do well for you to comply."

"Go on," Snape shrugged.

"There is a certain individual who, I understand, is a first-year student attending Hogwarts," Lucius said. "He has no business here. Have him expelled."

"The Potter boy?" Snape grinned. He'd wondered when Lucius was going to make his move against the Dark Lord's mortal enemy. Fortunately, he and Dumbledore had prepared for this.

"No, we can deal with Potter later; I speak of one Mr. ... Amastacia-Liadon," Lucius said. He... no, it knows too much, whatever it is that we summoned, Lucius thought. "Whatever you have to do, get him out of that school."

"It shall be as you say," Snape said. Now, this is good news, Snape thought. Time to get back at that boy for insulting my house and attacking my students. And unlike Potter, I'm under no obligation to protect him. Snape smiled briefly before masking it. No sense letting Lucius know I'd do this one for free.

"It shouldn't be too hard for you," Lucius said. "He's not a wizard." I doubt he's even human. We may have accidentally created some sort of ... Homunculus. An artificial human. There's no telling what it might do.

o—o—o—o

When Milo returned to the castle, it was late afternoon. He was glad to make it to safety—not because he thought he was really in any mortal danger, after what he'd discovered in the forest, but because without any powerful spells he was as good as useless if another plot hook appeared.

What he had to do was find Harry. He had a right to know about Milo's discovery—it directly affected the Boy-Who-Lived, after all.

"M-M-Milo," Milo heard a familiar voice from behind him. "M-m-m-ight I have a w-w-w-word with you?"

"Sure," Milo said. "What's up, Professor?"

"E-enjoying the sun, I s-s-see?" Quirrell asked.

"It was sunny?" Milo asked. Nobody ever paid much attention to weather where he was from, unless it was an ominous thunderstorm. "Well, then I guess I was. And I went to check out that spider thingy I killed the other day."

"Oh, did you?" Quirrell asked. "Whatever for?"

"It's just that something seemed wrong about the whole thing. The tree really shouldn't have killed it," he said.

"It looked like a pretty heavy tree to me," Quirrell said. "Maybe it was an extraordinarily lucky hit?"

"Falling objects can't critical hit, because they don't make attack rolls," Milo said. "It would be different if I threw it."

Quirrell paused.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"Ah, nevermind. I'll figure it out eventually. I don't suppose you noticed anything?"

"No," said Quirrell. "I did not—although just a moment ago, I did see the Potions Master heading into the forest." Quirrell looked Milo directly in the eye when he did, as if expecting something.

"Oh, did you?" Milo said. "Wonder what he was doing. Gathering rare potions ingredients or something. Probably. Yeah, totally that." Natural 1 on Bluff. Great. Just great.

"Of course. Well, I'll be seeing you in class Monday," Quirrell said.

o—o—o—o

Not a Wizard? Snape mused. What could that possibly mean? How could he be in Hogwarts and not be a Wizard? I'll have to keep a closer eye on him in class...

Snape's breath caught. The only reason Lucius would have an interest in him is if the boy's tale were true, he thought. So, impossible as it seems, he really is from another world.

Snape was caught in a dilemma. If he refused to do as Lucius asked, it would blow his cover with the Death Eaters, and his position there would be necessary in the next war. And, though he tried to keep it from influencing his decision, he did want to get his revenge with Milo for 'accidentally' blinding his students. But... Snape was under no illusions about what Lucius would do to Milo once the boy was outside of the wards and away from Dumbledore's protection.

The Snape that everyone knew, the pawn of Lucius, would comply. If he didn't, it would confirm any suspicions Lucius had about him being a double agent. And besides, if Milo really wasn't a wizard, then it would be Snape's duty as professor to make sure he was expelled. Besides, Milo wasn't anyone important. It was unfortunate, perhaps, but the boy had become a pawn that needed to be sacrificed to protect the king.

Snape was broken out of his reverie when he bumped into the Defence Professor.

"S-s-s-sorry, S-S-Severus," Quirrell stammered and scurried away. Snape shook his head. It should have been me with that position, Snape thought. Quirrell is much more suited to his old job as Professor of Muggle Studies.

Hang on, Snape thought. He could practically hear the wheels clicking in his brain. What was it Quirrell said about Milo? That he was impressed with his magical abilities? From what Snape had heard, Milo was one of the least gifted students that Hogwarts had seen, apart from his occasional demonstration of wandless magic. And after that acromantula attack, Quirrell had tried pretty desperately to save the boy... most unusual. The Quirrell that Snape knew fainted whenever he saw a spider.

Most unusual, indeed. With everything going on involving Milo, nothing, Snape decided, should be treated as coincidence. Snape resolved to keep a closer eye on the Defence Professor, and watch for an opportunity to prove Milo's lack of magic. Shouldn't be too hard, he thought. I'll just have to wait for the other students to progress somewhat. When he fails to do so as well, that will be evidence enough.

o—o—o—o

Sometimes I'm so clever I outsmart myself, Milo thought bitterly. This is one of those times.

"Squeak squeak squeak squeak," Mordy said excitedly. "Squeak squeak SQUEAK."

"Mordenkainen: I don't speak Rat," Milo said, his voice tinged with an edge of frustration. Though they shared an empathic link, which let each know the other's general mood and condition, they couldn't actually speak until Milo hit level five.

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked him. Milo was sitting in Gryffindor Common Room, trying to figure out what Mordy had seen Snape do. From what he could tell, there was a great deal of squeaking involved. Ron and Harry had just walked through the portal, looking despondent.

"I found Snape sneaking about in the forest and had Mordy tail him, but I evidently didn't think very far ahead when I did. You ever hear of a spell that lets you talk to animals?"

"Nope," Ron said. "Except for Parselmouths, of course."

"Parcel mouths?" Milo asked. "What are those, aside from the worst thing to get in the mail imaginable?"

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "Everyone knows about Parselmouths."

Harry sighed.

"Ron, I thought I asked you to stop doing that?" Potter said. "I was raised by Muggles, and Milo's from another planet or something."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"We know as much about Parselmouths as we did about Quidditch," Harry continued.

"Sorry."

"Which is to say absolutely nothing."

"Sorry."

"Because we, unlike you, were not raised in Magical Britain."

"Sorry."

"Just saying."

"Right."

Milo coughed.

"Parselmouths?" he asked.

"Oh, right," Ron said. "Well, it's this really rare ability some people have that lets them talk to snakes," Ron said. "It's said Slytherin was one—Salazar Slytherin, that is—and You-Know-Who. It's a sign of Dark Wizards, for sure. I've never heard of any after You-Know-Who, and it's just snakes, anyway."

"Oh," Milo said. "Well, that's pretty useless." Harry, however, had gone completely white.

"I have to—that is, I should probably—I'll just go. Er. Bye." Harry said, and fled the Common Room.

"Well, that was weird," Ron said. "Wonder what that was all about?"

"Something significant, probably," Milo said. "But I don't think it has anything to do with us, yet. We can always ask him later, but right now, I have to figure out how to speak with this rat."

"So you can find out what evil things Snape was up to in the forest?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Milo said. "then you can use it to get Hermione to help you figure out what's going on with the Philosopher's Stone."

"How do you know we need help?" Ron asked defensively. "For all you know, we learned everything we needed today."

"Oh? Did you?"

"Maybe. I wasn't really listening, to be honest," Ron admitted.

"Which is why we need Hermione."

"Which is why you need to make your rat speak."

"Yeah."

"Bollocks," Ron said. "Best of luck."

There was a spell Milo knew of that would help, called Speak With Animals. Unfortunately, it was only available to Rangers, Druids, and Bards—and Milo would sooner die than become any of those. If he could get his hands on a gnome—a proper gnome, not one of those garden gnomes that Ron kept complaining about—then they could maybe help, because they could speak with animals a few times a day. Only burrowing animals, though. Milo wondered if rats counted as burrowing animals or, if not, merely digging a hole once would count. He would, technically be "burrowing."

Milo sighed. He didn't have a gnome, he didn't have a Ranger, he didn't have a Druid, and he neither had nor particularly wanted a Bard.

"Squeak, squeak squeak," Mordy continued without pause.

There were only two options, as Milo saw it. He could attempt to push the rules past breaking point and test if his Spontaneous Divination ability could mimic Druid spells, or he could wait until levelling up to find out. The first option risked calling righteous fury upon himself from above, while the second took time and monster slaying. Unfortunately, patience was a virtue, and Milo was True Neutral.

"Speak with Animals," Milo tried to cast, attempting to swap out Protection from Evil. Other than losing the spell from his memorized list, nothing happened—but Milo felt a distinct sense of wrongness. It was as if the universe recoiled from him slightly, pondered for a moment, then...

"Excuse me," Lavender Brown said to him, "Professor McGonagall told me to tell you that Professor Snape wants to talk to you, like, right this second."

"I'm sure it's totally a coincidence," Milo said nervously as he started to sweat. "Heh, heh. Hah. Coincidence. OhmygodsI'mgoingtodie." Lavender gave him a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

Milo supposed he would just have to wait until he gained another level before finding out what Snape was up to in the Forbidden Forest. And this, he thought as he walked towards Snape's dungeon, is why you don't try to stretch the Rules as Written to allow more than 150% as much as the Rules as Intended, er, intended.

I just hope I'll have the opportunity to live long enough to learn from my mistake.

Milo knocked on the heavy wooden door to Snape's office, which created a surprisingly loud echo.

"Enter," a voice said sternly from the other side of the door. Milo quickly ran through his assets before opening the door: a pair of Prestidigitations and Dancing Lights, an Acid Splash, a Protection from Evil, a Silent Image, anda Feather Fall, as well as the contents of his Belt of Hidden Pouches.

So, not much.

Milo cautiously opened the door and walked in. Snape's office was... uniquely atmospheric. There was an eyeball floating in a jar, and it was probably the least creepy thing there.

"Ah, mister Amastacia-Liadon," Snape said. "I've been expecting you."

Milo whimpered quietly. Sitting on Snape's desk was a lustrous black flask inlaid with a silver skull pattern. There was a skull-shaped stopper with reflective red eyes. To complete the image, the eyes glowed slightly.

"Madam Pomfrey has instructed me to give you this," he said, gesturing at the very, very evil flask. "It contains a week's worth of antidote for acromantula venom," Snape continued. "You are to drink one teaspoon every night, ideally within a minute or two of midnight for full effect."

"W-why midnight?" Milo stammered.

"Oh, just so your body has time to process it before breakfast."

"W-why the sk-skulls?"

"It's the only flask I had in the correct size."

"Oh." That didn't, of course, answer the question of why he possessed such a flask in the first place. It looked more suited to holding the blood of sacrificial maidens than medicine. Well, no matter, Milo could just cast Detect Poison on it as soon as he left the office to see if it was dangerous.

"Oh, before you go, make sure you don't drink more than your prescribed amount," Snape warned. "That's a powerful poison in large quantities." Well, Milo thought, there goes that plan. It would just register as poisonous anyways. The safest option is to just toss a teaspoon of it down the drain every night and hope for the best.

"And make sure you don't miss a night, either," Snape said. "Or the venom could relapse, and you'll most likely die." Oh, come on.

"Oh. Um, thanks," Milo said. "I'll just, ah, go now. Bye, Professor." Milo fled the room, and didn't stop running until he was in front of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked.

"Squeak," Milo said, and the painting swung open to reveal Gryffindor Tower.

Milo found Ron and Harry sitting at a table by themselves playing Wizard Chess. Harry had evidently returned from his weird flight earlier, but still looked a little shaken. Milo was no chess expert, but judging by the fact that Harry only had two pieces left, Ron was winning.

Milo collapsed into an overstuffed armchair and slammed the accursed flask on the table.

"Detect Poison, Detect Magic," he started casting rapidly.

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron said, staring at the skulled flask. "What's in there, You-Know-Who's tears?"

"Identify, Ancient Knowledge, Appraising Touch," Milo continued casting uninterrupted.

"What's that you're muttering?" Harry said. "Are you sweating? What happened?"

"It's poisonous and apparently nonmagical," Milo said to himself. "But that broomstick didn't appear to be magical, either. It could have a Magic Aura cast on it to conceal it from detection," Milo said, "or something more powerful. Otherwise I don't know at all what's in there... And it could really be poisonous, and Snape was just saying 'it's poisonous in large quantities' as an excuse to make me ignore the results of Detect Poison. Although Snape can't have known that I could do that, could he? Nobody here knows what my capabilities are, right? Unless he can read minds... Nah. Will is my highest save, that would never work. But Detect Poison only detects, like, actual, literal poison," he continued. "It wouldn't say anything was wrong if this were say, a Potion of Bestow Curse or Potion of Horrid Wilting... No, potions only go up to 3rd-level spells... so the worst it could be is, say, a Potion of Inflict Critical Wounds, maybe, which would still be more than enough to kill me. Or whatever the closest analogue is in this world."

"Sorry, what?" Ron asked.

"But if Snape is telling the truth and I don't drink tonight it I'll die." Milo ran his fingers through his hair. "Did Snape really give me an antidote that's technically poisonous just to fool my Detect Poison spell? And then make it into a lethal, but technically non-poisonous potion of some horrendous instant death spell once I'd concluded it wasn't really poisonous, at least in small doses, and therefore it's safe? Surely nobody's brain is that twisty..."

"Yours is, mate," Ron pointed out.

"But if this is going to kill me, why did he put it in such an over-the-top flask?" Milo asked.

"Uh," Harry said, "I'm not really sure what you're talking about, but maybe he gave you that flask of doom so you'd think 'surely no-one would put actual poison in something like this' and then you'd drink it."

"Ah!" Milo exclaimed. "You could be right! I'm going to die I never should have tried to speak to this useless rat!"

Over on the other side of the common room, Hermione rolled her eyes, put her book aside, and stood up exasperatedly.

"I couldn't help but overhear your anguished shrieks of, well, anguish," Hermione said walking over. "And why would Snape poison you with something everyone knows he gave you?"

"So you do think Snape's evil!" Ron said.

"No, dimwit," Hermione said, rolling her eyes again. "I said 'assuming your half-brained theory is correct and Snape is evil,' first. Remember?"

"You did?" Ron frowned. "I don't remember that, actually."

"Then try listening, next time, maybe?" Hermione asked testily. "Anyway," she continued as if Ron hadn't spoken, "if you drunk that and died, everyone would know Snape did it."

"I'd still be dead!" Milo protested.

"What I meant is, he wouldn't do it if it would reveal himself. Obviously."

"No, because he explicitly stated it would kill me if I either didn't drink it or if I drank too much," Milo countered, speaking rapidly. "So say I do drink it and I die, he could just say, 'oh, that poor stupid boy, he must have overdosed himself by accident, what a tragedy, oh, me, I'm so sorry, he showed so much promise, mwa ha ha, we're all worse off for his untimely death, oh, the humanity.'"

"So, ask Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said.

"Ask her what?" Milo asked, perplexed.

"If that's actually the antidote," she said.

Milo blinked.

"Why?"

"Because she'd tell you. She's a mediwitch; she knows what she's doing."

"I don't understand," Milo confessed. Asking adults for help was not something he, as an adventurer, had ever considered doing before.

"I'll use short, simple sentences so that even you can understand," Hermione said sharply. "Take this flask. Go to the hospital wing. Say, 'Madam Pomfrey, can you check that this is really acromantula antidote? I'm worried Snape gave me the wrong flask by accident.' She'll look at it and say, 'yes, this is the antidote, it's very dangerous so follow the directions precisely,' or, alternatively, say, 'no, that's distilled nightshade, among the deadlier poisons known to man.'"

"That's... a little unorthodox, but it just might work," Milo admitted. "But how do I know I can trust Madam Pomfrey? Actually, what if Snape assumed I would ask Pomfrey and deliberately made this here elixir of death to pass whatever test she would think of?" he asked. "Because he certainly outsmarted mine."

"No," Hermione said. "You outsmarted yourself. Just drink it."

"On the plus side," Ron said. "If you do drink it and die, that will prove you were right and Snape's evil and Hermione will help us stop him! It's a win-win."

"...but I'll be dead," Milo said.

"Can't have everything, mate," Ron shrugged.

"I've been outsmarted," Milo decided. "Whatever I decide, I'm probably falling for Snape's evil plan. I'll just... I'll flip a copper piece. Emperor, I drink it; Hydra, I don't."

He pulled out a copper from his Belt, and flipped it. It twirled four times in the air, and landed with a heavy thud on the table.

The four of them stared at it in disbelief.

"Blimey," said Ron. "I... I didn't think that was even possible."

"It is, without a doubt, highly improbable," Hermione conceded.

The coin was sitting on the heavy wooden table, balanced perfectly on its edge.

o—o—o—o

Snape leaned back in his leather chair, smiling. He knew he wasn't supposed to use Legilimency on students for his own amusement, but...

Even if I get sacked for this, he thought, it was, without a doubt, worth it. He could only imagine the agony and indecision going through Milo's head after he'd left.