Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Well, the votes are in. I'm sure some of you were counting. I thought there for a while we were going to have a tie, but later votes settled the matter. Now, remember when I said that I wasn't going to split this story up into separate books? Well, I changed my mind. My muse pointed out that if I did it this early in the story, it wouldn't cause the flood that it did when Saerry Snape did it, so I'm going to go ahead and do that, starting with the next chapter. Now, someone mentioned that I hadn't provided a link to Saerry's stuff and I was shocked at myself. Her ID here is 74156, and it has a link to her homepage.

To Cressida Aliora, when Hermione repaired the bridge of Harry's glasses in canon, it was a single simple break of a very small piece. Harry's cane was too large, and it wasn't being held together, as the glasses were by tape. She could probably do it if she had time, but time was in rather short supply.

As a side note, I'd like to wish my muse a Happy Birthday. Thanks for all the help you've given me on my various works, and for pushing me along when I need it, which I admit is rather often. And I know this is late, but you know how I am.

As A Bat
The Man With Two Voices

It was Quirrell, of course. The garlic smell, though, was not as strong as it should have been, making Harry wonder if he would now be able to detect Voldemort directly. He said, "Hello, Professor Quirrell."

The man's voice no longer shook as he spoke. "Bravo, Mr. Potter. I'd have thought that with Snape's obvious hatred for you, you'd blame him."

Harry shrugged. "If Snape wanted me dead, I'd already be in the ground."

Quirrell smirked at him. His voice fairly dripped with it. "Perhaps. But I suppose that dubious honor is left to me." He snapped his fingers and Harry felt ropes wrap themselves tightly around his body. "You're too nosy to leave alive, Potter, scurrying around the school on Halloween. I couldn't know if you'd seen me getting a look at that dog. Now wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror. It must be the key to finding the Stone." He tapped on something wooden, which inadvertently gave Harry what he needed to figure out the room. He had to fight to keep the smile off his face. It was the Mirror of Erised! "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this...but he's in London...I'll be far away by the time he gets back. I see what I want. I see myself giving the Stone to my Master. But how do I get it?"

Long minutes passed while Quirrell muttered to himself, trying to figure out the Mirror's secrets. Harry's mind was racing, trying to figure out how Dumbledore would have used the Mirror to hide the Stone. He knew that, at this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to find the Stone before Quirrell and Voldemort and then to get away from them with it, so if he could just get his hands on the glass, he would see himself finding it, which would tell him where it was hidden. But how could he do that without Quirrell realizing?

Suddenly, Quirrell became agitated and started yelling. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Master, help me!"

Then a second voice came from Quirrell, one that Harry had heard in his nightmares since he could remember. "Use the boy."

"Yes, Potter. Come here, boy." Harry knew he had no choice, so when the ropes fell off, he didn't try to run. But they planned to use him? Did Voldemort realize, even if Quirrell didn't, that the Mirror would show him something despite his blindness? "Now, look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry snorted. Well Quirrell didn't get it at least. "What do you think I see? I'm blind. I see darkness."

The other voice, and Harry decided that it had to be Voldemort, came quietly from the back of Quirrell's head. "He must touch the glass. The magic of the mirror is strong enough even for this." Damn.

Harry sighed. There was nothing left for it but to lie his arse off. He knew that it would take something a bit different than what he'd spun for McGonagall. She might have fallen for that bit of sentimental and self-sacrificing drivel, but Voldemort was a very different sort. He was a Slytherin once, and needed careful handling if any falsehood was to be believed. "Go on, boy. Touch it."

So Harry reached out and touched the cold, smooth surface. Instantly, his mind's eye could see, but this time it wasn't his parents who filled his vision, but the room around him. He saw Quirrell standing behind him, as it could be no one else since they were alone in the room, and he saw himself with his left hand still on the glass. But his reflection wore clear glasses, rather than shaded ones, and bright green eyes twinkled behind the lenses. The boy in the mirror dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out what had to be the Philosopher's Stone. Then he winked at his physical self and put it back, and Harry felt the Stone fall into his real pocket.

Harry fought to keep his face from reacting to that, immediately thinking about the other times he'd looked into the Mirror of Erised. He acted as he had that first time seeing his parents. "Mum? Dad? Is this real?" After all, the best lie has a bit of truth in it. And as he spoke, the memory brought that wish back to the fore and they appeared for real in the Mirror. He touched the place where his mother's hand rested on his shoulder, fighting his addiction to the Mirror to keep his mind on the present situation so that he would have a chance to get away.

Quirrell growled, "Bah! You're useless! Get out of my way!" He pushed Harry aside, knocking him to the ground, and Harry didn't take the opportunity amiss. He bolted for the door. He almost made it.

Voldemort cried out, "Stop him! He has the Stone!" Harry's hand was on the door when he felt the same ropes as before warp themselves around him once again, and this time he was yanked backward by them. His scar was burning again, but he ignored it, forcing himself to focus. Harry's wand was in the same pocket as the Stone and he struggled against the ropes in order to get it and free himself. He'd be damned if he was going down without a fight, and he had to stall long enough for someone to come after him and get the Stone away from Voldemort.

But Harry couldn't get it out. Voldemort's voice had a sneer in it. "Well played, Mr. Potter. You do your house credit. But surely you must see that you have lost. Why die for it? Join me, Harry. Together we could do such extraordinary things!"

Harry's face had long since set itself in a scowl. He didn't think he was going to survive this without joining with the dark wizard. But Harry decided that he'd rather die than to do so. "The whole world thinks Slytherin is evil, and you're the cause of that. You dishonor your house! And you think I'll join you, who murdered my parents?"

"Think carefully, Harry. Do you think they would want you dead? They would want you to live life to the fullest. But my servant is correct. You are far too inquisitive for your own good for me to allow you to continue living without having some hold on you. Don't worry about morality, Harry. There is no such thing as good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."

For a moment, Harry was tempted, if only because it would get him close to the bastard, close enough perhaps to kill him once he'd regained his power. And with the Stone in his pocket, that would happen now, either because he was dead and it was taken from him, or because he joined him and gave it in the hopes of destroying him later. But he shook his head. He just knew that his parents would be terribly disappointed with him, and so would his friends and teachers, and they meant a lot more to him than his own well being. "No. Morality isn't a weakness; it's a compass, a tool. If you come back to full power, I have no doubts as to the fate of the world, wizard and Muggle alike. So kill me, because that's the only way you're getting your hands on this rock."

Voldemort laughed. "Bravery. You're just like them, you know, your parents. They needn't have died, but they did so to protect you. And now that sacrifice shall be in vain. Quirrell!"

Harry still wasn't going down easily. He might not be able to get at his wand, but desperation reminded him that he didn't always need it. He thrust out with his magic, breaking the ropes that restrained him, and then cried out "Chiroptero Insonui!" The bat at his throat started screeching as loudly as it could.

With the room as audible to Harry as it was visible to Voldemort and Quirrell, their footing was equalized somewhat. Harry drew his wand, but he knew he wasn't really good enough with magic yet to use it as a weapon, not against such an experienced opponent. Quirrell came flying at him, but Harry ducked, grabbing the broken rope off the ground as he rolled underneath. He then transfigured the rope into an ebony staff. The length of wood was carved to resemble Richard, including scales from head to tail that served to give Harry a better grip. It was something he'd had in mind for a while to replace his Muggle issue blind cane, and now that he needed a weapon, that was the best thing he could think of. He was almost glad, now, that the other cane had been destroyed. This one would serve him just as well and probably looked a whole lot better.

Quirrell was a deadly dangerous wizard, there could be no doubt of that fact, and Harry was just a boy. But Harry had grown up in an environment full of bullies, and had done so with a serious disadvantage. Like the runt of any litter, he'd always had to fight for his survival, and long before he'd had any formal magical training. Still, though he hadn't expected Harry to produce a weapon instead of trying to fight him magically, a few well-aimed curses later and the staff had been knocked out of Harry's hands. Quirrell grabbed him by the neck, intending on choking the life out of him.

But it didn't work. His hands started burning! He cried out in pain and jumped back, disbelieving of what had just happened. Voldemort shouted, "Get the Stone!"

All the while, Harry's scar was sending shooting pains through his head, causing a migraine so blinding he feared he might loose the contents of his stomach before too much longer. But his mind was still working. When Quirrell touched him, he burned. The opposite should be true.

Time seemed to slow for a moment. Quirrell leapt for Harry to try and rip his pocket open and get the Stone out of it, but Harry heard him coming and grabbed the arm that reached for him. Pain ripped through him again, but he fought it, refusing to let go. Quirrell had knocked them down and was leaning over Harry, but he was trying to back off to get a better angle. Harry wouldn't let him, and instead lifted a leg and kicked him in the chin. Then he jumped up and grabbed hold of any part of Quirrell's head that he could. This close, Harry couldn't help but feel the dark magic within the teacher and how it was reacting to his touch. Something was there, in his skin, that was seeking out the darkness with the intent to destroy it.

Had he been in less pain, he might have recognized it, but he passed out from it instead.

Harry took quite a while to wake fully, but once he had, he realized that he had company. The sheer amount of power coming off the person in question told him all he needed to know. "Professor Dumbledore. Where am I?"

"You're in the infirmary, Harry. You've been unconscious for three days. I dare say Messrs Weasley and Zabini and Miss Granger will be happy to hear that you are awake. In fact, the whole school has been sending you gifts and candies. I do believe that Messrs Fred and George Weasley tried to send you a toilet seat. I imagine they thought it would amuse you, but Madame Pomfrey confiscated it for hygienic reasons."

That made Harry smile, but then the reason for his presence in the infirmary flashed across his consciousness. "Is the Stone safe? Is Professor Snape all right? And Ron and Hermione?"

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Relax, dear boy. All is as it should be. Mr. Weasley has recovered nicely from his accident, and Professor Snape was not injured, merely Stupefied. The Stone has been destroyed, and will no longer be of use to Voldemort."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Still, "What of your friend, Mr. Flamel? He and his wife will die now."

"Yes, they will. They have enough elixir to set their affairs in order. Don't worry. At their age, they are quite ready for it."

Harry smiled. "Strange to think about, but I can see it." He sighed. "I have some questions. Will you answer them for me?"

"If I can. And I won't lie to you if I cannot."

"I know why he tried to kill me in the gauntlet, but why did Voldemort want me dead in the first place? He told me that my parents died to protect me from him. I was the target that night, and they were simply in the way. Why?"

"Of course, the first question would be the one I cannot answer. Not yet. When you are older Harry. It is not something a child should have to bear. I promise, when you are ready, then you will know."

That was irritating beyond belief, but Harry let it slide. For now. "There are other ways, aren't there. He will still be able to find a way back."

"You're right, of course. There are ways in which he can still return. He will eventually find another, like Quirrell, that he can control, and he'll be able to use that person to do his work."

"Why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Because of your mother's sacrifice, a mark of love was left in your very skin. It's not something that he could handle. Voldemort doesn't understand love, and one such as Quirrell, being controled by evil the way he was, would naturally be damaged by it."

"What did you do to the Mirror? How was it that I got the Stone?"

Dumbledore's voice was grinning. "Now that was one of my more brilliant ideas, if I do say so myself. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, would be able to get it."

Harry did have other questions, but they were interrupted by the swishing of billowing robes and the thud of boot heels on stone. He smiled. "Hello, Professor Snape."

There was something of a smile in the Potions Master's voice. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

Harry chuckled. "I've been told as much."

Dumbledore stood and said, "Well, I'll just leave you two alone to talk." Then he moved out of the room, hardly making any noise at all.

The door closed and Snape said, "Damned twinkling know-it-all." Harry didn't think he was meant to have heard that, so he kept silent. "So, Mr. Potter. I should take points for your having disobeyed me."

Harry shrugged. "If that's what you must do, then do it. I did what I had to and will accept the consequences of my actions. But I hope you realize that I did try to obey. We only went after Quirrell when we realized that the alarm hadn't gone off twice, as it should have. Something had to have gone wrong."

"Hmm." Snape was silent for a moment, then took a breath and said, "Well, Mr. Potter, as you only acted out of necessity, I shall forgo that punishment. However, if in the future you find yourself with a problem on your hands, I hope you will come to me sooner. I am your Head of House, and as such am charged with your protection."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his professor. "May I ask a very frank question, Professor Snape?"


"Why do you hate me so much? Even Voldemort noticed, and I don't think he's been with Quirrell the entire school year."

Snape seemed irritated when he answered. "I do not hate you, boy. I don't even know you. I may have misjudged you, thought that you were just like your father, but I never hated you."

"My father?"

"During school he was an incurable bully. He grew out of it, but we never really reconciled our differences, and his death prevented that from ever happening. I'm really not the one to tell you much about him. I'm afraid my recollections would be rather - colorful."

Harry desperately wanted to ask more, but decided to keep silent. There were other ways of getting the information that wouldn't annoy Snape. Instead he said, "I honestly think that Potions is a fascinating subject. I've always had a thing for plants, and wizarding Herbology is ever so much more complex. Potions uses that complexity practically. It's all connected, and it's very - um - intriguing." He sighed. "I just think that I would learn more if I didn't have to fight through every lesson. Is there any way that we can be civil to each other? I don't want you to show me favor, but-"

Snape interrupted him. "You're right, of course. I'll be civil. Just don't expect much else."

Harry smiled. "Thank you. Really, though I'm kind of glad that at least one person in this school doesn't seem to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread just because I survived a murder attempt."

"That fame will follow you for the rest of your life, whether you want it or not. You're a Slytherin, my boy. Use it."

"Oh, I do. Both the fame and my blindness cause people to treat me differently, and I'm not above using that to my advantage." He smirked, remembering the load of swill he'd fed McGonagall after the dragon mess.

That small smile was back in Snape's voice. "Well, the Sorting Hat was certainly right about you, Mr. Potter. I didn't say it before, so I'll rectify that now. Welcome to Slytherin House." And with that, he stood up and thud-swished his way out of the room. Harry couldn't help but think that his next year of school was going to be different. He now knew that he had an ally among the staff other than Dumbledore.

Madame Pomfrey, the nurse, was very nice. She was also very strict. But even she was not immune to the charms of the blind orphan when he chose to use them, and he finally got her to allow his friends into the infirmary to visit him. Ron, Blaise and Hermione were an excellent audience for the story.

Blaise said, "Well, looks like you were right, mate."

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron. "Nicolas Flamel's just going to die?"

Harry smiled. "At their age, I imagine death would seem like a great adventure. So what happened to you and Hermione?"

Hermione answered him. "Well, I got back all right, and I brought Ron around and we got out of there. Snape was already headed back in. He demanded to know where you were, and when I told him, he said something rather crude and went in after you. I'll assume he didn't get bitten again, since he was able to get you out. He told us that points wouldn't be taken, but to consider ourselves lucky. Professor Dumbledore arrived just a bit after. He just seemed relieved that you would be all right."

Harry nodded. Blaise said, "Neville was a little angry with you lot, but he understood why you couldn't wait or let him get in the way. He also called you a closet Gryffindor, which I happen to agree with."

Harry grinned, then sobered. "Thank you all for helping me. I couldn't have done this alone."

Ron seemed confused. "But you did do it alone, Harry."

The blind boy shook his head with a smile. "No I didn't. Blaise made sure that, should the worst have happened, Voldemort's return would not have gone unnoticed. Ron, you're the only one who could have gotten us through that chess set. Hermione solved Professor Snape's riddle much faster than I could have done. And you all gave me a stronger reason than my parents' deaths to resist Voldemort. I wouldn't lose any of you as friends for the world, or even my sight."

Blaise was thoughtful as he asked, "Do you think Dumbledore intended for you to be able to get at the Stone?"

Ron agreed. "Yeah. He was the one who gave you your father's cloak, or I'll eat my Christmas sweater."

"That's terrible!" said Hermione. "You could have been killed!"

"No, it isn't. I think he just wanted to give me the chance to face him. He knows a lot of what goes on around here, probably knew that we were looking into the mystery. It was likely that I'd give it a go, so he made sure that I had the advantage of knowing how the mirror worked."

"Yep, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "So, are you going to be there for the feast tomorrow? Ravenclaw's won the cup, but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey came over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT!"

The next day, after having had a good night's sleep, Harry started wheedling Madame Pomfrey. "Please, Madame. I really want to go to the feast and be with my friends. They're the reason I made it out of this alive!"

"Professor Dumbledore says that you are to be allowed to go. And you have another visitor." After straightening his numerous candy gifts, she went and let Hagrid into the room.

Hagrid seemed intent on blaming himself, wailing about how he should be punished for his lack of ability in keeping secrets. "Hagrid! Do you honestly think that Voldemort wouldn't have found out how to get past Fluffy?"

"Yeh could've died! An' don' say the name."

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry snarled. "I've met him face to face and kicked his ruddy arse. I'm using his name." He sighed and calmed down, noting that Hagrid had been shocked out of his crying. "Please, Hagrid. He's been stopped, he'll never be able to use the Stone, and I'm just fine. Now, why don't you have one of those chocolate frogs? I've got so many, I'll be eating them for a month."

The big man was a bit more cheerful when he said, "That reminds me, I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" Harry said cautiously.

Hagrid gave a weak laugh at that. "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off to fix it, shoulda sacked me instead, but anyway. He also put a spell on it, said it was the same kind's the one on 'is mirror."

Harry took the object from Hagrid. It was a leather-bound book, and as he held it, Braille words raised themselves from the cover of it. It read, "Potter Family Album". Trembling, he opened it to the pages inside and touched them. Every page had a wizarding photograph that sent their images into his mind, and his mother and father were smiling or waving at him from every page.

Hagrid said, "A lot of their old school friends sent 'em by owl. D'yeh like it?" Harry couldn't speak for the emotion, but Hagrid understood.

Harry made his way down to the feast alone that night, having been held up by Madame Pomfrey insisting on one last check up. The Great Hall was already full, and when he went through the doors, all conversation in the Hall ceased. Harry could feel the eyes on him as loud chatter replaced the silence and he walked across the stone floor to his customary seat beside Blaise.

Thankfully, moments later, Dumbledore's arrival caused the attention to shift and the babble died away. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "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 has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . .you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . .

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two points, Gryffindor with three hundred and seventy points, Slytherin with four hundred and twenty-three points and Ravenclaw in first place with four hundred and thirty two points." Ravenclaw table errupted into cheers.

"Yes, well done Ravenclaw! However, recent events, must be taken into account." The hall grew quiet again. "To Mr. Neville Longbottom, for knowing when it is time to stand up to even your friends and having the courage to do so, ten points. To Mr. Blaise Zabini, for knowing when discretion is the better part of valor, ten points. To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of wizard's chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, fifty points. To Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, fifty points. And finally, to Mr. Harry Potter, for using both bravery and cunning in the face of adversity, sixty points."

Slytherin table was the loudest, of course, but the Gryffindors cheered for them, as well. The whole school considered Harry and Blaise to be the best of Slytherin House, not for grades, but for their willingness to put houses aside and be good friends. All of the Weasleys were on their feet aplauding, as were Neville, Seamus, Dean and Hermione. If it was the first time that Gryffindor had ever cheered Slytherin, no one made any comment.

Professor Snape called Harry to his office the next day, as the other students were packing to go home. Wondering what this was about, Harry knocked on the professor's door. "Come in!" As Harry entered, the Potions Master walked across to meet him, taking his hand to place the cane he'd transfigured in the mirror chamber in it. "I found this on the third floor, Mr. Potter. Very nice work. I wouldn't want you to loose it."

Harry smiled a bit as his hand wrapped around the cool wood, more for the complement than for the return of his cane. "Thank you, Professor. What can I do for you?"

"A small house is being built for you here on campus. Neither I nor Dumbledore felt that you should try to live with Hagrid, since he has no notion of how to live with a blind person, nor any real sense of organization. However, construction has only just begun, and will likely take at least a month to complete. Until that time, would it suit you to share my quarters? There is one spare bedroom which you may occupy until your home has been constructed."

Harry was stunned. Even after what Professor Snape had told him when he woke up in the infirmary, Harry still didn't think that the man liked him very much, but this was not something he would do for someone he didn't care to associate with. "Thank you very much for the offer, sir, but I think it would be imprudent of me not to ask why."

"Indeed. I would like to know you a little better, Harry, and apologize for my rudeness during the school year. And you need a place to stay."

Harry nodded. "Very well. I accept. Thank you, Professor." He stood to go, then remembered something. "Oh, may Richard stay with me as well?"


"A friend of mine, a garter snake. He lived in the garden at the orphanage and he's always been there to advise me when I've needed him. But he can stay in the green house if it's a problem. I planted a Serpent's Hutch there for him that he can use."

"You're a Parceltongue?" The Professor sounded a little odd.


Professor Snape was silent for a moment. Then, "Very well, he can also stay in my quarters, but he'll need to understand that I often keep experimental rodents in cages, and he may not eat them. Not only would that ruin my experiments, but the potions that they would have consumed would be dangerous to him."

Harry nodded. "Of course, Professor."

It was time for everyone to be going home for the summer, to spend time with their families and to do the homework that many of the professors had assigned to them. Harry, of course, wouldn't be leaving, but he wanted to see his friends off, so he rode with them in the carriages down to the Hogsmede train station.

Hermione had a tearful farewell hug for him, Ron and Blaise both snickering until she gave each of them one as well. The Weasley twins still hadn't managed to successfully prank Harry, but they promised to try harder next year, to which he just grinned. Ron invited everyone to visit over the holidays and wished Harry good luck on staying with Snape. Harry sighed. "Honestly, Ron, he's not that bad. He even appologized for treating me so horribly. Not that I think he'll ever really change, but he'll at least be civil, and he might even help me with my homework if I have any trouble."

Blaise snorted. "Like that's going to happen. I'd visit, Ron, but you know my father is never going to allow it. He's just like Malfoy's father regarding your family. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You can't choose your family. After all, I got Percy, didn't I?"

Harry frowned at that. "Well, I hope you apreciate your family, Ron. Don't forget, Voldemort is still out there. He'll be trouble again, mark my words, and when he does, people are going to die. Percy may not be the best of brothers, but imagine what it would feel like to lose him."

Blaise said, "Harry's right. My father is a fool, but he's still my father. I love him and I'd hate it if anything ever happened to him."

"I know, you're both right, but he's such a git! It's hard to live with him most of the time. Well, I'll see you both next year, if not sooner. Good bye!"

Blaise turned to Harry as Ron ran off to get on the train. "Why are you so sure he's coming back, Harry?" He sounded very worried.

"He's very determined and very powerful to have lasted this long. He'll eventually find a way to return to life. The Stone couldn't have been his only shot at it. Magic is so vast and diverse. I know he'll find the key to it eventually."

"And when he does? My father served him the first time around, and he'll do so again. You're going to be his enemy."

Harry nodded. "I know. But that doesn't make me yours. I don't blame people for the mistakes of others, Blaise. You will always have a place to come if you need it."

"Thank you, Harry. Watch for my owl."

"Thanks, Blaise."

And then everyone not already on the train had to get on it, and it chugged it's way toward London. "It's strange, isn't it Professor?"

Professor Snape, who tried not to sound surprised that his student had already known he was there, asked, "What's strange?"

"Seeing everyone leave. I've gotten used to having all these people around me, and now there will only be you, the Headmaster, Hedwig, Richard and Hagrid."

"Perhaps. But they will all return. And you'll always have the owl post."

Harry listened as the train moved through the Highlands, echoing through the ancient hills of Scotland as if it were shouting out it's own sorrowful fairwells. And it was good to know that they would come back. For another six years, he would always know where to find his family. They were right here.

And that's it, ladies and gentlemen. The next one will be called "As A Bat, The Heir of Slytherin". Predictable, perhaps, but apropriate. Thanks to all of my reviewers for your comments, because you've given me more ideas than you know.