(1) Brothers (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

May 20, 1996

Harry's mind hadn't been able to settle. Ever since it had clicked that there was someone, in fact, after the Philsopher Stone, he had been trying to come up with a plausible answer as to who it was. There could be any number of unknown ambitions students that wanted the stone; who wouldn't want to have eternal life and be able to turn any metal into gold? Harry had considered speaking to Snape about his own theories further; the Potions Professor hadn't offered any more information towards who he suspected, but Harry had a nagging feeling that it was another teacher.

It was something that he didn't want to really believe; all of the teachers at Hogwarts had been there for a long time. They had all seemed happy with their roles, and no one showed any signs of desperately needing curing for anything. Professor McGonagall was immediately someone he ruled out; he trusted her more than he trusted Dumbledore. Professor Sprout was far too honest to have a hidden agenda. Professor Flitwick was someone who Harry could believe might covert such a thing, but the man would want it for nothing more than to study, not to use. Professor Binns was a ghost and had no use for the stone. Professor Kettleburn could possibly use the stone to replace all of his missing limbs, but the man was too oblivious to anything that wasn't a magical creature. There were too many people to consider, and Harry didn't have enough information.

Monday morning, when he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, the sunny Spring days had disappeared, and a heavily clouded grey morning had taken its place. The dark skies seemed to be threatening rain, and a cold chill hung about the air. As he walked through the doors, Harry spotted Harvey, Hermione and Ron sitting together. None of his friends seemed to have made it down for breakfast, it was still early, and few students were about, so Harry walked over to join them.

Harvey and Hermione greeted him with warm smiles, but Ron sneered at him in a very Snape like fashion. Harry had been tempted to ask if he had been taking notes about Snape's expression rather than focusing on his Potions homework because it would explain the boy's horrid grade. Instead, he went straight to the one thing his mind couldn't shake.

"Have you lot had any luck coming up with any possible suspects?" asked Harry.

Hermione sighed. "No."

"Snape is the only one I think is suspicious," mumbled Ron.

Harry sighed.

Harvey said, "Ron, you only say that because you don't like him."

"No," snapped Ron, "I think that because he was acting suspiciously. He ran straight out on Halloween night to go to the third floor once Quirrell came running in and screaming about the troll. He hexed your broom, Harvey. And he got bit failing to get past that bloody dog."

Harry wanted to punch the boy. How many times did he need to repeat himself? "Snape doesn't want the stone, Ronald."

The red-head glared at the use of his full name.

"What about Quirrell?" asked Harvey.

Harry glanced at his brother curiously. "Huh?"

"Professor Quirrell; does he have a motive?" asked Harvey.

Harry hadn't even thought about the Defence Professor. The man had always been odd, and during his defence classes that year, he had felt a strange arua around the man. Harry had initially ignored it; Carlisle's theory was that it was the garlic odour that Professor Quirrell radiated, that or the purple turban he had suddenly decided was fashionable. He wasn't certain, though.

It had seemed strange that the Professor had disappeared for a whole year only to return and teach a different subject. It seemed an odd subject for some, a nervous and timid man to teach. When he had taught Muggle Studies, the man had seemed comfortable and adapt; not that Muggle Studies had been all that interesting of a subject to Harry, it had been an easy grade. However, Harry had noticed that the Professor's stutter had seemed stronger than before and that he seemed more withdrawn than before.