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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓: 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erisedagain, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays, the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter. 

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams.

"That mirror was mad," I added. 

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. 

We had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. 

Once term had started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Harry had even less time than us because Quidditch practice had started again. 

Wood was working for the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

"Hey," I said as I joined Ron and Hermione who were staring at the window. Well, only Ron was staring at the window, a book on his lap but Hermione was studying. 

"Mm," Hermione said without looking up. 

"Ane," said Ron as I sat down. 

"Is that George?" I asked as George Weasley — I think — fell into the mud. 

"Looks like they're complaining," Ron commented. 

"Yeah," I repeated

"Let's play chess," Ron said closing his book. 

"Sure," Hermione said. 

"Blimey, are you alright, Hermione?" said Ron grinning. "Can you ace chess, Hermione?" 

"I'm sure she can," I said as I chuckled. 

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found us playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.

 "Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concentrate—" He caught sight of Harry's face."What's the matter with you? You look terrible." 

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told us about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee. 

"Don't play," said Hermione at once. 

"Say you're ill," said Ron. 

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested. 

"Really break your leg," said Ron. 

"Why would – you know what, forget it. Do you want to play or not?" I asked Harry. "If you don't — say you're ill." 

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all." 

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-LockerCurse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower. Everyone fell over laughing except me, the Fawleys - who was sitting there horrorstruck —  and Hermione, who leaped up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. 

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron. 

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on." 

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

 Neville shook his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbled. 

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier." 

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"Oh Neville," I sighed as I patted his arm. "That's not true." 

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry. 

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin." 

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog."Thanks, Harry...I think I'll go to bed....D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?" 

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card. 

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever —"He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Hermione, and me.

 "I've found him!" he whispered. 

"Found who?" Ron asked blankly. 

"I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this:'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!" 

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since we'd gotten back the marks for our very first piece of homework. 

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. 

Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms. 

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

 "Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

 At last, she found what she was looking for."I knew it! I knew it!"

 "Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. 

Hermione ignored him as I shot Ron a look.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

 This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected. 

"The what?" said Harry and Ron. 

"I've heard that — somewhere..." I said, thinking. 

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look – read that, there." 

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: 

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist, and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!" 

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry."No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it." 

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of recent developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?" 

"No," I replied. "He's as old as my great-grandfather would be." 

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what we'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. 

It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match. 

"I'm going to play," he told Ron, Hermione, and me. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them...it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

 "Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," I said.

 As the match drew nearer, however, I could see Harry became more and more nervous. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee? 

Harry knew, when we wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron, Hermione, I were wondering whether we'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. 

Ron, Hermione, and I had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that we had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. 

We'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and we're ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry. 

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve. 

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

"She was just telling," I replied. 

Suddenly, I spotted Dumbledore. 

"Blimey, even Dumbledore's come to watch!" I said as Hermione and Ron squinted to see Dumbledore. 

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione and me. "Look —they're off. Ouch!"

 Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy. 

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle."Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Does anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?" 

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the gamelike a hawk, looking for the Snitch. 

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money — you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains." 

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy. 

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered. 

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville." 

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

 Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry."I'm warning you, Malfoy — one more word—" 

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry —" 

"What? Where?" 

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, she crossed fingers in her mouth, asHarry streaked toward the ground like a bullet. 

I stood up too, my nerves crackling like electricity. 

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help. 

"NO RON!" I yelled as I turned. "RON, WHAT DO YOU —" 

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape — she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that were Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand. 

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the switch is being caught so quickly. 

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. 

"STOP IT!" I yelled as I grabbed Ron and Neville by the collar. "Shut up, both of you, don't make me — wait, Hermione, what's — AHHH! WE WON!" I rushed to hug Hermione then each of the Fawleys. 

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. The game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped — Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Harry tumbled off to the shed. 

"WE WON!" Ron said, thumping his fist into the air. "IN FIVE MINUTES! Ane, Hermione, can you believe it?!"  

I laughed. "Yes, Ron, I can... I just watched the match!" 

The Fawleys were excited too. 

"He just caught it like that!" Cassie said, jumping up and down. 

"Just like that! " Belle said as she clapped. 

"Wonderful!" Lily yelled. 

"I can't believe it!" Leslie said, clapping with Belle. 

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly as the Fawleys hurried off. 

"Isn't he — what? Where?" Ron asked he stood on his tippy toes. 

"Last time I saw it, he was going toward the broom shed," I said as I looked around. 

"Oh c'mon," Hermione said as we all went down the bleachers. "Harry!" 

"Hermione," I said sternly, "he's going to come. He's not just going to vanish! Right?" I added as I looked at Ron, with a raised eyebrow. 

"Er —" 

"No, you're right, Diane, he's not," Hermione said. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked as Harry hurried to us.

 "We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on theback. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe andGoyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be allright — talk about showing Slytherin! I've waiting for you in the common room,we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from thekitchens."

 "Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an emptyroom, you wait 'til you hear this...." 

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind us,then he told us what he'd seen and heard. 

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to forceQuirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and hesaid something about Quirrell's 'hocus Pocus — I reckon there are other thingsguarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, andQuirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to breakthrough —" 

"Do you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up toSnape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"Oh damn," I sighed. 

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," Ron said.