A/N: Reader poll! You decide: when Year Two rolls around, should Luna be Sorted into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? Let me know what you want in your review. Voting closes 7/27/08 at 11:59 pm GMT -5 (EST) and in the interest of fairness, only votes within signed reviews will count. There may be more of these in the future if this works well. You can influence the story!
Chapter Thirteen
Winter Term 1992
It might have been the shock of being caught by the Headmaster out of bounds and after curfew, but the new term started with very little fanfare and almost nothing exciting to break the monotony of classes and homework. The morning after our run-in with the Mirror, we were provided with new timetables for the winter term, but our schedules were exactly the same as autumn's had been.
Every so often I would think about what I had seen in the Mirror of Erised, but it faded from the front of my mind as the first few weeks of the new term rushed quickly past. Harry had stowed the Invisibility Cloak in the bottom of his trunk as soon as we had returned to the common room, and he had not had any reason to bring it out again. Our nighttime excursions had dropped off to a mere memory, and that was fine with me. I did not relish the chance of expulsion or bodily harm, and staying in after curfew in the safe, warm environment of our common room was a sure way to avoid just that.
I was busy enough to invest myself in the details of student life, however, and that was another reason not to miss our adventures. On top of classes, studying, and Quidditch practice for Harry, we had taken it upon ourselves to tutor Sally so she could catch up with the rest of us. She rejoined the flow of Hogwarts life with no trouble at all and was happier than she had ever been, as far as I could tell. Ron even joined our tutoring sessions on several occasions, helping where he could and possibly soaking up what Harry and I were teaching.
Since Dumbledore's chat before the winter holiday, Ron had approached his schoolwork much more actively, and even though it still left some things to be desired, it was a vast improvement over his academic mess during the first two months. I knew I was intelligent and hard-working, just as I knew that Harry was intelligent and diligent; it was becoming more and more obvious, though, that Sally was nearly as gifted as we were and with some application Ron would be no slouch, either. And for the most part, the other Gryffindor first years were doing fairly well, which made our Professors very happy. Ravenclaws were usually known for their prowess as far as academics were concerned, and our Ravenclaw counterparts provided no reason for that notion to fade, but my Gryffindor classmates were handling themselves ably.
For the most part, there was an easy camaraderie between the first years. The jarring transition from pre-Hogwarts life into school away from home for months at a time had passed with the fall term, so it seemed like we were much more tolerant of each other in general. There were still arguments and antipathy every now and then, but it was mostly short-lived and petty in nature, something young kids shoved together for long periods of time inevitably experience.
As January rolled into February, and as the frigid, snowy weather turned merely cold and rainy, even Neville started to come out of his self-imposed shell. It was a painstakingly slow process, constantly hindered by what I think was his very poor self-image, but it was there nonetheless. Subtle glimmerings of confidence in his schoolwork appeared every now and then, and he was more and more willing to be drawn into conversations with the rest of us.
Since term had started on January sixth, Harry, Ron, Sally, and I had formed a group of sorts, though Ron and I still had our occasional difficulties with each other. Harry and Sally seemed to temper our wilder arguments, however, so we eased into an odd sort of friendship-based more on mutual wariness than respect. Since Christmas, Harry had been more comfortable talking with me about himself, and it felt nice to be someone he could trust. Working closely together to help Sally probably helped our friendship along, so by the time the first week of February was nearing an end, the four of us were often seen together.
Neville was a provisional fifth member of our group, but he still hadn't fully committed himself by the night of Friday, February seventh, when Harry came back from Quidditch practice looking quite alarmed about something. In fact, Neville was somewhere else, so Ron, Sally, and I motioned Harry over to us. We were sitting at one of the tables working through the rather easy homework Quirrell had assigned. It was due Monday and because I preferred to get it out of the way before the weekend officially began, I convinced the others to do it as well.
"How was practice?" Ron asked, as Harry sat down next to us. He was still dripping from the rain, and his teeth were chattering. "And what's the matter with you?" Ron wondered, looking closely at Harry for the first time.
"Harry?" I questioned, when he hadn't answered after several seconds. "What is it?"
"There's going to be a new referee for the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff…" he said, trailing off and running a hand through his thick, wet hair. There were still drops of water on the lenses of his glasses.
"And…?" Ron wondered. Sally and I looked at each other, concerned over Harry's sudden reticence. Something had clearly upset him.
"It's Snape," Harry said, finally looking at all of us. Light flashed off the water on his lenses. "Snape is refereeing the next Quidditch match."
Ron's mouth dropped open and I set my quill down, considering with just a touch of alarm this information. I still wasn't convinced Snape had tried to harm Harry during the last Quidditch match, even if the evidence I'd seen with my own eyes suggested just that, but I didn't want the hateful Professor refereeing.
"What?" Sally asked. "What's so bad about Snape refereeing? I know he's a bit obnoxious in the classroom, but…" Harry just slouched in his seat, dripping water onto the floor; Ron still looked gobsmacked from what Harry had said, so I explained to Sally what had happened at the last Quidditch match. When I told her that we more or less suspected Snape of trying to sabotage Harry's broom, she scoffed and looked between Harry and Ron.
"Honestly, you two think that a Professor would try something like that?"
"Yes," Ron asserted. "Snape's a git and he's been on Harry's case since the very first day-"
"Yeah, but-" Sally started.
"But what?" Ron cut in. "As soon as Hermione stopped Snape from whatever he was doing during that match, Harry was able to control his broom again. What else could it be?"
"Well…I don't know," Sally said, shrugging. "I just don't think it makes much sense."
"Whatever else Snape's agenda might be, he certainly won't be fair toward Gryffindor," I said. "He hates your brothers," I continued, looking at Ron and thinking of Fred and George, "and it is well known that he dislikes Harry."
"So what should I do?" Harry asked, finally peeling off his soaked Quidditch robes. He let them fall to the floor with a muffled thwump.
"Don't play," Ron said. "Say you're ill."
"Harry, don't listen to him," Sally told him. "I seriously doubt anything will happen, and we're all going to be at the match, anyway."
Ron didn't look convinced. "Pretend to break your leg-or, better yet, really break you leg," he said, continuing to give Harry what I thought was really bad advice.
"Sally's right," I said, agreeing with my female friend. She nodded at me. "You can't let this stop you from playing. You love Quidditch, and besides, we need to win this match," I added, and he smiled at me. It was appreciative. He still looked worried, though.
"I have to play, regardless," he said, sighing deeply. "We don't have a reserve Seeker. If I back out now, Gryffindor won't be able to play at all."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Sally asked, rhetorically, and we laughed. It might have sounded just a touch troubled, but as Sally had said, we were all going to be there supporting Harry.
Sudden commotion near the portrait hole drew our attention away from the conversation at hand, and I nearly leapt out of my chair as I saw Neville stumble into the common room. He toppled face first onto the floor, and I immediately knew that something was wrong. His legs looked like they were stuck together. Harry, Ron, and Sally followed me as I moved toward Neville. Some laughter ensued as Neville tried to stand, and he looked like he was about to cry. I helped him stand when I got to him and recognized the spell he was under. It was the Leg-Locker Curse we had recently learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"Finite incantantem," I said, pointing my wand at his legs. They immediately sprang apart.
"What happened?" I asked as I led him back to where we had been sitting. The attention of the other students in the common room gradually returned to whatever they had been doing, the night's entertainment over for now.
The five of us sat down and looked at each other for several moments, except Neville who stared at the table. He still looked like he wanted to cry, but he also looked furious about something. Harry and I made eye contact, and he shrugged. He had no idea what had happened, either.
"Nev?" Ron asked. Neville slowly looked up.
"What happened?" I repeated.
"Malfoy," he said, and his voice wavered on the second syllable. "I passed him outside the library and he drew his wand on me. He cast that curse and said he'd been looking for someone to practice it on. And he told me I was perfect because I wouldn't know magic if it hit me."
Harry blew air out through his nose, and I could tell with a glance in his direction that he was quickly becoming angry. His brow was knitted and he was leaning forward a bit.
"Malfoy's a git, too," Ron mumbled.
"You should go to Professor McGonagall," I said, looking directly at Neville and meeting his eyes. "You need to tell someone about this, so Malfoy can be punished."
He shook his head. "I don't want any more trouble."
"More trouble?" I wondered, shaking my own head. "It's going to keep happening if you don't do something about it now."
"She's right, Neville," Harry said. "You have to stand up to him, and if that means going to Professor McGonagall, then we'll all go with you. She's our Head of House and should know about this."
"But why?" he asked. "Then I'll just be a tattle."
"No, Neville, you won't," Sally said. "Malfoy had no right to treat you like that. He broke the rules. He should be punished."
"Malfoy's used to walking all over people," Ron said. "My dad's always telling us how the Malfoys think they're privileged because of their money. But that doesn't mean you have to lie down in front of him and make it easier."
Neville looked down again, and I wondered if what Ron had said was entirely prudent. "You don't have to tell me I'm not brave enough for Gryffindor. Malfoy's already done that."
"Oh Neville," Sally sighed, "that's not what Ron meant. Don't take it like that. Let's go to McGonagall and at least let her know what happened."
Very reluctantly, Neville agreed to follow us to McGonagall's quarters, which were just off the Gryffindor common room. I knocked on the door and shortly thereafter the Professor stood before us, looking quite different in her evening robes.
She looked down at us over the frames of her glasses and arched a questioning brow. "Yes? What can I do for the five of you?"
"Professor…can we come in?" I asked.
"Of course," she answered, suddenly seeming to understand something was wrong. She moved aside and beckoned us through the door. Comfortable living quarters greeted our eyes as we moved into the first room. A desk in one corner was piled high with papers, and it looked like we had interrupted some work. As we all took seats around the room, she waved her wand and conjured each of us steaming cups of tea. It was sweet and refreshing, and just the right thing to ease the situation.
"What's this about?" she wondered.
No one said anything for a moment, and then we all looked at Neville. He was staring at the floor, fiddling with his cup.
"Go on Neville," Sally prompted, and we all gave him similar encouragement. With a deep breath, he looked up and told McGonagall what had happened outside the library. Her lips had almost disappeared into a frown by the end of his story.
"And you ended the curse when he returned to the common room?" McGonagall asked, looking at me. I nodded. "Then one point to Gryffindor for your spell casting, Miss Granger," she said. Then she looked back to Neville. "And one point to Gryffindor for informing me of this incident, Mr. Longbottom," she continued, placing what I thought was odd emphasis on `incident.'
Neville looked surprised to earn a point for Gryffindor, and McGonagall must have understood why. She looked at each of us, individually, and then set her cuppa down. She leaned back in her chair.
"I am happy you decided to tell me about this," she said. "Too often occurrences such as this go unreported in this school, and by informing me I can now do something about it. I will let Professors Dumbledore and Snape know about this blatant disregard for school rules and disrespect for a fellow student."
"What do you think they will do about it, Professor?" Harry asked. He seemed slightly angry at Malfoy for casting that curse on Neville, more than I thought was reasonable. Some kind of personal grudge between Malfoy and Harry had seemed to be growing all year. Coming late to the magical world, I had no knowledge of many of the ingrained prejudices, so I wondered if there was something between the Potters and Malfoys I did not know about. Then again, Harry hadn't been exposed to magic until the same time, so he most likely wouldn't have known about any kind of long-standing feud, either.
"I don't know, Mr. Potter," she answered, peering at him. "One can hope they will deduct points from Slytherin and subject Mr. Malfoy to appropriate punishment, but that is out of my hands."
"How come?" Ron demanded. "He attacked Neville!"
"I realize that, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, placating Ron's volatile temper. "But punishment is up to that student's head of house, which in this case is Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore can ultimately determine what kind of reprimand Mr. Malfoy deserves, of course, but he will most likely defer to Professor Snape in this matter," she said. I wondered why she sounded bitter at the end there; perhaps it was just my imagination?
"It's not likely that Snape will do anything about it," Harry said, lowly, though McGonagall heard it.
"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter," he corrected him. "It is not up to you how he decides to deal with this situation, so best put it out of your minds for now," McGonagall told us, and stood. "As for any future conflicts, please let me know just as you have tonight. And you may all want to learn the finite incantantem."
"Yes ma'am," Harry mumbled, and we all started for the door. Neville looked just a tiny bit happier than before.
"Oh, and Potter?" McGonagall asked, as we neared the door. He turned to face her and the rest of us did the same. "You may want to consider changing quickly out of your wet clothes in the future. We do not want our Seeker getting sick before the match," she said, smiling, and then waving her wand in Harry's direction.
Warm air washed over me as her drying charm took effect, and he suddenly looked much more comfortable in his newly dried clothes. Random displays of magic by Professors-especially outside of the controlled classroom environment-were always exciting, and the others appreciated the spell just as much as Harry had.
"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, smiling back at her. The anger that had been present was no longer there beneath his words.
"Not a problem," she said. "Good night, everyone."
"Night, Professor," I called, and the others said similar things. We exited her quarters into the Gryffindor common room, where there were still many students lounging about, though not many were doing work. It was a Friday night and we all had the weekend ahead to enjoy.
One of the sofas was newly vacated, so I sat there with Sally and Neville. Harry and Ron sat cross-legged on the floor in front of us.
"Thanks," Neville said. "It probably won't mean anything, but thanks."
"You're welcome, Nev," Ron said.
"Yeah," Sally agreed, patting him on the leg. He looked up and smiled at us, though it was strained.
"You're worth twelve Malfoys," Harry said, his eyes sparkling. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor for a reason. Here, take this," Harry said, pulling his bag from the nearby table and acquiring a Chocolate Frog from its depths. "It'll make you feel better," he said, tossing Neville the candy. Neville's smiled widened as he unwrapped it.
"Thanks, Harry," he said. I thought it was an extremely nice gesture from Harry, and as he caught my eyes, I nodded and smiled at him. He just shrugged and ducked his head.
"Well," Neville continued, after a moment, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed. Do you want the card, Harry? You said you collected them."
Harry nodded. "Sure, Nev," he affirmed, reaching out and taking the card from Neville. "Thanks."
"No problem." Neville got up to leave.
"And Nev," Harry said, meeting his eyes as the other boy turned with a curious look on his face.
"Yeah, Harry?"
"Don't be a stranger this weekend. Look for us tomorrow-maybe we can all do something fun."
Neville said and did nothing for a long moment; then his face broke into that smile and he nodded slowly. He glanced at all of us and continued to smile.
"Thanks… I think I will. Goodnight."
We all said goodnight as he left, and I watched him retreat to the dormitories. There seemed to be some spring in his step, and I hoped that we had finally broken through his stupor. Harry's parting words had been brilliant.
"Spot on, Harry," I told him, and he just looked at me, flicking some hair off his forehead. "That was nice, what you said to him."
"Nev's a good bloke," he said, and Ron agreed. "S'bout time he did some stuff with us. And maybe we can stop Malfoy from treating him like that if we're around him more." He looked down at the card in his hands, and I watched him read the information for several seconds.
"I agree-" Sally started to say, but Harry cut her off.
"I've found him!" he exclaimed, staring down at the card.
"Who?" Ron asked, before Sally or I could.
"Flamel! I told you I had read the name somewhere. It must have been on the train-look, Ron, this is Dumbledore's card. This is the one I got on the train." He was so excited he could barely form words. Ron and I glanced at each other; Sally just looked confused. I realized that she had no idea about Fluffy or Flamel because none of us had divulged that information.
"Listen to this," Harry went on, shuffling closer to the couch and leaning onto it, with his arms across what had been Neville's cushion. "`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.'"
He looked up at me, and then at Sally, with the intensity of discovery blazing in his eyes. He leaned back, resting on his laurels, and continually glanced between us and the card in his hands. I considered his words in my head, trying to think of why the words `alchemy' and `Nicolas Flamel' had triggered something within my brain. The name alone had not been enough to spark the realization, but coupled with the description…
I almost slapped my forehead in frustration as I realized what I should have done weeks before this. If only we had looked in an encyclopedia while we were at home over the Christmas hols, we would have quickly found out all we needed to know about Flamel. He was known to both Muggles and wizards, and even though I couldn't remember precisely why, I knew I had the source in my room.
"Wait a mo'!" I said, jumping up and almost knocking Harry over. "I'll be right back!" And then I was off, running as fast as I could toward the dorms, up the stairs, and into the first years' room. The nightstand by my four poster held several large tomes, and I shuffled then aside for the one on the bottom of the stack: From Albion to Britain. I ran back down to the common room with the thick book in my arms. Harry, Sally, and Ron looked curious and even a little nonplussed as I plopped back onto the couch with the book.
"What's that?" Harry asked, trying to look at the cover.
"It's called From Albion to Britain, and it's a complete history-or nearly so-of both Muggle and magical Britain."
"Why do you have that?" Ron asked, staring at the side of the book.
"Why else would I have it?" I wondered, looking at Ron with an arched brow. "To read, of course."
He scoffed, but said nothing more. I thought it might have been some growth on his part that he didn't deride me for having the book.
"Is Flamel in there?" Harry wondered.
"Who is Flamel? What are you all talking about?" Sally asked, more confused than ever.
"Hang on a second, Sally. We'll explain it all soon," I said, opening the book to the index and flipping through the pages. The print was so small it was hard to read. Finally I found the entry for Flamel, Nicolas and turned to the page. It said: Nicolas Flamel is famous for being the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone.
"Ha!" I shouted, more of a noise than anything else. "I knew it!" I looked at Harry, and saw that he was dying to know what I'd found. "We should have looked for him at my house like you suggested. I'm sorry, Harry."
He waved it off. "It doesn't matter-what did you find?"
"Nicolas Flamel is the only alchemist in the world who makes the Philosopher's Stone!" I said, triumphantly. Three blank looks greeted my revelation.
"The what?" Ron asked, and Harry and Sally were just as clueless.
I ran my hand through my bushy tangles in frustrated excitement. I was almost bouncing in my seat at this point.
"Here, just listen: `The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher'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.'"
Little did I know that my reading aloud of the definition of the Philosopher's Stone was the very first time any of us vocalized Voldemort's destructive quest for immortality. It never ceases to amaze me how such a small pebble-that simple definition-can send forth ripples so very far.
"`There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life with his wife, Perenelle.'"
Harry looked like he was quickly reaching the same conclusions I had, and Ron might have slowly been getting there. Sally had none of the information the three of us had, so she looked completely bewildered.
"So…" Harry mused, staring off into space, "Fluffy has to be guarding the Stone then…"
I nodded. " Exactly! Flamel must have asked Dumbledore to keep the Stone safe. They are friends, after all."
"But why? No wonder we couldn't find Flamel in any recent books, he's six bloody centuries old," Ron said, ignoring my look at his language. "If the Stone's been safe all those years, why would he want it protected now?"
"Are you all going to tell me what you're talking about?" Sally asked, now more resigned to her curiosity than anything.
"Yes-but Ron, he must have known someone was after it, if he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!" Harry said, finally putting the last piece together.
"Gringotts?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, don't you remember the break-in that happened over the summer?"
Ron nodded. "My brother Bill said even the goblins in Egypt were very angry about the theft."
"Well, it was the same vault that Hagrid took something from when I was at Diagon with him. He said it was Hogwarts business and that Dumbledore had trusted him with getting whatever was in the vault," Harry explained.
"And then Hagrid said whatever Fluffy's guarding is between Dumbledore and Flamel," I recalled, thinking of our visit with Hagrid after the first Quidditch match. Ron and Harry nodded, both satisfied that we had discovered what Fluffy was guarding. I turned to Sally and began to explain what we had been finding out in bits and pieces throughout the year.
My story led from what Harry had told me of his visit to Diagon Alley on his birthday through this most recent revelation. Sally was appropriately appalled at finding out about Fluffy's rather canine nature, and laughed at Hagrid accidentally revealing Flamel's name.
"Wow, you had a very eventful term after I left," she said, marveling at our various adventures. She paused and gave me a significant look, and I just knew she was wondering about the parts I had carefully left out, like the incident on Halloween. As it wasn't completely relevant to our search for Flamel, it wasn't something I really wanted to talk about just yet.
"So the question is," Ron said, "why would Snape want it? Harry and I saw him rushing toward that corridor on Halloween, and his leg was all cut up afterward."
"Anyone would want it, Ron," Harry replied. "The Stone makes gold and prevents death."
"Do you think it's safe?" he asked.
"Do we even know for sure if Snape is after it?" I asked, trying to bring some rationality into the argument.
Ron rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, don't start that again, Hermione-"
"How can we?" Sally asked. "It might just seem like he is."
Harry shrugged. "You're all right. We can't know for sure if Snape is after the Stone. Let's just keep our eyes open between now and the match against Hufflepuff," Harry said.
"And especially during the match," I reminded him, staring into his eyes.
"Good," Harry responded, "because I'm going to play. If I don't, I'll let the team down. I can't let Snape bother me enough not to play," he said, looking grim and determined. "I'll show them…it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces when we win."
"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field, Harry," I said, attempting to joke. It fell rather flat, however.
"Wonderful, Hermione," he said, dryly. "I'm just going to catch the Snitch as quickly as I can. I'll end it before anything can happen."
"Good luck with that, mate," Ron said. Sally and I looked at each other, and there was worry reflected in our eyes.
----------
Another week of classes passed routinely. The following Saturday evening, the fifteenth of February, Harry, Sally and I were idly going over some material for Transfiguration in the library. Sally had mostly caught up in all of our classes, remarkably quickly, and McGonagall and Dumbledore said if she did well on her winter exams, then Hogwarts would consider her even with the rest of us. Ron was somewhere with his twin brothers and we did not know where Neville was, though we had filled him in on all that we had learned about the Stone.
He was surprised at first that we had pursued information regarding Fluffy, but then became intrigued by the mystery. He didn't think Snape wanted to steal the Stone, which was surprising considering how Snape treated him most of the time, but conceded that someone seemed to be after it. During the last week of classes, he had been even more active with the rest of us, which was a nice change.
Something I had just recently realized was that Gryffindor first years seemed to have split down the middle-there were two five-person groups of fairly good friends. Lavender, Parvati, Lily, Dean, and Seamus were often seen together; Harry, Ron, Sally, Neville, and I had been growing closer and closer since coming back to Hogwarts. But that didn't mean we were unfriendly toward the other five, or that they were unfriendly toward us. Quite the contrary, really-the other five were more something like acquaintances.
Sally pushed her book away from her and leaned back, rubbing her eyes. The old wooden chair creaked loudly in the thick silence of the library.
"It's Saturday night…I think I've had about enough of this," she said, leaning forward once again and flipping the book shut.
"I agree," Harry said. "We've been over this stuff a dozen times. I know I'm set with it, and if you're good, Sally…" he trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.
"Sure," I said, flipping my book shut as well. Our whispers were carrying through the library; I wondered how long before the librarian, Madam Pince, swooped down upon us.
"So what are your plans for tomorrow?" Sally asked, looking at both Harry and me.
He shrugged and I said, "Dunno. If this rain stops I would suggest going outside for a bit, but," I cut off, motioning toward the high windows. The patter of the incessant drizzle reached our ears.
"Just relax probably," Harry said. "Next week is going to be terrible with practice and the match next weekend. Wood is going to drive us hard and the weather isn't going to make it any easier."
"Just don't get sick," I said, thinking of when McGonagall had dried him off.
He rolled his eyes at me. "I'll try, Hermione," he said.
Silence fell then, but I quickly noticed Sally's eyes darting between the two of us. She glanced down at her book, fingering the spine for a moment, and then looked at me, brushing her dark brown hair away from her face.
"So…what did I miss when I was at home?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" Harry wondered, looking puzzled.
"You two seem to be much better friends than when I left, and Ron seems to tolerate you more," she said, looking at me. "If I remember correctly, he was kind of rude."
Harry and I shared a glance that encompassed everything from my alienation, to the Halloween incident, to Christmas night in my room.
"Well," Harry started, laughing a little uneasily, "there was a big feast on Halloween, and at some point Quirrell came rushing into the Great Hall screaming there was a troll in the castle."
"What?" Sally asked, surprised. "No one told me about that. So what happened, and how does that relate to you two?"
"Ron had said something particularly…rude…to Hermione earlier that day, so-"
"So I spent the entire afternoon crying my eyes out in the girls' bathroom," I cut in, for some reason feeling like I needed to be the one tell that part and also hoping that Harry would not back away from the messier details.
"Oh…" Sally intoned, looking closely at me again.
Harry nodded, and he looked uncomfortable. His green eyes were clouded with guilt. "I should have said something to Ron, but I just let it pass. Sorry, Hermione…
"Anyway, around the time Quirrell fainted in the middle of the Great Hall, I realized that Hermione wasn't with us and no one had seen her all day, so she probably didn't know about the troll. Parvati said something about finding you," he said, looking at me, "in the bathroom, so Ron and I raced up there as fast as we could."
"And what happened then?"
"The troll was just going into the bathroom when we showed up-that was the same night we saw Snape rushing off to Fluffy's corridor-so we had the brilliant idea of locking it in the bathroom."
Sally looked horrified. "But Hermione was in there!"
I nodded. "I thought I could escape the bathroom before it realized what I was doing, but then the door shut and locked. I did the only thing I could at that point-screamed my fool head off for help."
"So you and Ron unlocked the door and Hermione escaped?" Sally questioned, looking at Harry. He shook his head. "Then what happened?"
"They unlocked the door," I said, feeling goose bumps break out along my arms as I remembered looking up and seeing Harry and Ron in the doorway. "And then they fought the troll."
I looked at Harry. "And won," I finished.
Sally stared at Harry. "You and Ron beat a troll by yourselves?"
"It was luck, really…" he said, trying to deflect the attention from him. But I wasn't about to let him diminish his accomplishment.
"No it wasn't, Harry," I told him. "You know the tenus calculus spell, Sally; well, we had just learned the spell that same day in Transfiguration, and when the troll came straight at us with this giant wooden club, he performed that spell and turned the thing to stone."
"The club?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It fell on the troll's head and that…was that," I concluded, rather lamely.
"Wow," Sally breathed, leaning back in her chair again. She raised her eyes to the high, vaulted ceiling and just stared up there. "I sure did miss a lot."
"It was our fault you were even there," Harry said, breaking in. "If Ron hadn't said those things, or if I'd stopped him, you wouldn't have been in danger."
His eyes were boring into mine, and I just leaned forward and laid my hand on his. "Harry, don't beat yourself up over it. We all did stupid things-I shouldn't have holed up in that bathroom all day."
"But you were there because of me."
I shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. Last term could have started out better, but it didn't, so there's nothing we can do about that now. I'm just glad we're all ok."
Sally chuckled. "Except the troll, of course."
"Yes, except the troll," I agreed. Harry took his hand from under mine and rubbed his face for a moment. He then stopped and appeared pensive.
"Have either of you ever felt like Snape can read minds?" he asked, slowly.
"Huh?" I intoned, startled by the bizarre question.
"Remember when Snape and McGonagall came into the bathroom?" he asked, and I nodded. They had both been furious. "Well, after Snape looked at the troll for a little while, he looked up and just stared at me for a minute. I felt like…it felt like he was reading my mind."
Sally turned to me and arched an eyebrow, cutting her eyes toward Harry. I had been subjected to several Snape-stares during the year, but they had never felt quite as extreme as he had described.
"Better hope not, Harry," Sally said, after a moment. "Because then he would know we know about the Philosopher's Stone."
"Which would be unfortunate," I said. "We'll be ready during the match, Harry, in case he tries anything."
----------
True to our word, when the next Saturday rolled around, we all headed for the Quidditch pitch with our wands safely tucked in our pockets. It was cold and misty and the ground was very wet and muddy, but thankfully the rain had abated for a little while at least.
"D'ya have your wand, Hermione?" Ron asked for the third time, as we neared the stands.
"Yes, Ron," I told him, exasperated. "Don't nag."
He looked offended. "You and Harry are the best spell casters, and he'll be occupied with the Snitch. Just wanted to make sure…" I smiled at his unintended compliment and let his nagging go. If I had been a little older and wiser, I might have seen the irony in the situation-Ron nagging me-but my mind was occupied with the match. I was worried about Harry so I wanted to be extremely alert.
As we settled into our seats high in the stands, Neville pointed across the pitch and squinted to get a better look.
"Hey, is that Dumbledore?" he wondered. I looked where he was pointing and, sure enough, saw that Dumbledore was among the spectators.
"I think so," Sally said, sliding into her seat between Neville and Ron. I was on Ron's other side.
"Then we have nothing to worry about," Ron said, succinctly.
"How do you figure?" I asked.
"If Dumbledore's here, Snape wouldn't possibly try anything."
"Did Malfoy ever get punished for using that curse on you, Neville?" I asked, looking at Ron and then Neville. They both shook their heads. "And McGonagall said that she was going to tell Dumbledore about the incident, didn't she?" They nodded again. "Then why wasn't he punished?"
"Come on, Hermione, this is Dumbledore we're talking about," Ron said, sounding quite sure of himself.
I pursed my lips. "And that means what?"
Ron gave me a strange look. "Weren't you the most skeptical about Snape going after the Stone?"
"I still am," I said, "but I don't think we should let our guard down just because Dumbledore's here."
"She's right," Sally backed me up. "And if Snape doesn't try anything, someone like Malfoy could-"
"What about Malfoy?" an all-too-familiar voice asked, just as the players rocketed into the air. I gripped my wand tightly in my hand, trying to ignore Malfoy's words from just behind us. I wanted to focus on Harry. The cheering for the start of the match grew so loud everything else was drowned out for a moment.
"Look-look at Harry go!" Ron said. "Ouch!" he then cried, and turned abruptly in his seat to stare at Malfoy. I turned sideways so I could keep one eye on the match and the other on the developing situation between Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the four of us.
Malfoy had an ugly smirk on his face as he sat down between his two cronies. "Sorry, Weasel. I didn't see you there." Ron glared at him for a moment and then turned back around in his seat. I was happy for his restraint. Too bad Malfoy had none.
"I wonder how long Potter's going to keep his broom under control this time? The Nimbus seemed like too much power for him to handle during the last match. Anyone want to bet? What about you, Weasel?"
Boos ricocheted around the Quidditch pitch as Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty shot. There were some cheers mixed in, but the overwhelming response was negative. I wasn't sure what had happened, but it looked like George might have purposely hit a Bludger at Snape. I smiled internally at the image of the greasy Professor getting hit with an iron ball. Harry was high above the other players, circling the stadium at a very high speed, looking for the Snitch.
Once the jeers and boos had faded away, Malfoy started in again. The boy just didn't know when to shut up.
"I think I've figured out how they choose people for the Gryffindor team," he said, clearly enjoying this. Though Ron and Neville were still facing forward, the mutinous looks on their faces suggested their patience was wearing thin. Crabbe and Goyle were notoriously stupid, so I wondered if they could prevent Ron and Neville from shutting Malfoy up. I wasn't about to stop them.
"It has to be people they feel sorry for," Malfoy continued, and I resisted the sudden and ridiculous urge to correct him: it has to be people for whom they feel sorry. Come on, Malfoy! You can't end a sentence with a preposition! "See, there's Potter, who has no parents, and the twin Weasels, who have no money-and you, Longbottom. You should be on the team. You have no brains."
I sighed, quickly becoming just as exasperated as Ron and Neville looked. Even Sally's brows were furrowed in frustration at the constant heckling from Malfoy. It was hard to concentrate on the match with his taunts always in our ears, even though nothing too exciting had happened yet.
Neville turned slightly and stared Malfoy in the eyes. "I'm worth twelve of you," he said, and then turned back to the match. He ignored Malfoy's derisive laughter, and I silently cheered for Neville. He had stood up for himself.
Staring up at Harry, Ron said, "You tell him, Nev."
"Longbottom, if brains were galleons, you'd be poorer than Weasel here, and that's saying something!" Malfoy responded.
"Malfoy, if you don't bloody well shut up-" Ron started to say, but I cut him off.
"Ron! Everyone! Look!" I shouted, standing and pointing at the sky. Harry had tumbled off an invisible cliff and was diving straight toward the ground. He was accelerating at an amazing rate and if my eyes weren't deceiving me, he had an enormous grin on his face.
"You're in luck, Weasel! Potter's obviously spotted a Sickle!" Malfoy said, standing with the rest of us. Before I could do anything to stop them, both Ron and Neville had turned at the same time and pounced on Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle joined the fray.
"Go Harry!" I screamed, willing him to catch the Snitch. The match had only been going for about five minutes so far, and nothing ominous had happened. Snape had just refereed with his normal sour look. If he ended it now, not only would that be an amazingly quick game, but our worry would have been for nothing.
Sally turned toward the five fighting boys and tried to separate them with a few well-placed wingardium leviosas, but they were too tangled. I was preoccupied with Harry's incredible dive and couldn't be bothered with separating them. I just hoped that Ron and Neville pummeled some good sense into Malfoy.
Ten feet from the ground, Harry pulled up and raised his arm triumphantly. The Golden Snitch madly flapped its wings between his outstretched fingers, but it was a futile gesture. Harry had captured the Snitch!
"Ron! Sally! Neville! It's over-Harry's won it! He has the Snitch!" I yelled, deciding on the spur of the moment to lean forward and hug Parvati and Lavender, who were in front of me. They laughed joyously in shared exuberance at the Gryffindor win and smiled back at me with rosy cheeks.
"Alright!" Ron said, throwing Crabbe off and emerging from the pile with a bloody nose. Neville and Goyle came next, each slightly worse for the wear. Malfoy was on the bottom, and he looked severely shaken up. I wasn't very concerned for him.
"Yeah Harry!" Neville said, pushing Goyle away and rejoining Sally and me with Ron. Malfoy and his goons slinked away behind us, staring coldly at our backs. I just glared at him over my shoulder for a moment. Neville rubbed his black eye and winced, but he was smiling.
"He did it!" Ron yelled, loud enough for anyone near to hear. "We did it! Gryffindor's in the lead! Woooo!" he cried, happiness pervading his voice. Just before we were swept up in the collective celebration with other Gryffindor students, I glimpsed Dumbledore saying something to Harry down on the field. Their eyes met-emerald green and ice blue-and they smiled at each other.
After that, we let the waves of joyous students pull us toward the castle, just as twilight settled over Scotland.
----------
That night, during the ensuing celebration in the Gryffindor common room, was the first time I actually felt like a part of the magical world. Fred and George, Ron's ever-resourceful twin brothers, had secured snacks and drinks from the kitchens, and the Gryffindor tower was raucous and celebratory late into the night. At that moment, every Gryffindor, whether boy or girl or first year or seventh year, was a part of the team; even though Harry had pointed out the flaw of the House system back on the first night, it was good for something at least: unity amongst housemates.
Academic pedantry and social squabbling fell away as we all rejoiced in our quick and amazing victory. Many people praised Harry that night, and it was the first time of many his name was on everyone's lips at Hogwarts. The players all arrived back at Gryffindor tower about twenty or thirty minutes after all of us spectators returned, because they had changed and showered before joining the party. Fred and George were good hosts; as soon as they entered the common room, they went around making sure everyone had food and butterbeer.
Conspicuous in his absence, though, was Harry. I immediately noticed he was missing from the returning team members, and I cornered one of the twins as the rest of the revelers were noticing the same thing.
"Where's Harry?" I wondered.
"You're Hermione, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, and you're Fred? Or George?"
He laughed. "I'm Fred. You can tell us apart by this little mole on the bridge of my nose," he said, pointing to the dark mark. "And I don't know where Harry is. He was right behind us," Fred said, and then turned away, striking up conversation with someone much older than both of us.
I was puzzled. I had no idea where Harry could have gone. I was still riding the high from his unexpected catch of the Snitch, so I only had enough time to start worrying before the man of the hour came through the portrait hole. He looked excited and anxious, which was an odd combination considering the circumstances.
Everyone crowded around him and congratulated him on the spectacular catch, and if he was overwhelmed by all of the sudden attention, he did a good job masking it. He graciously accepted the praise, deflecting most of it toward Wood's brilliant Keeping or the twins' excellent Bludger skills. Eventually, he made it through the crowd to where Ron, Sally, Neville, and I were waiting for him.
"Harry!" I said, hugging him briefly. Sally did the same after I stepped back and Ron and Neville clapped him on the back. Harry's cheeks were flushed with excitement.
"Where have you been, Harry?" Neville asked. "That was an awesome catch!" he added. Harry then looked closely at Neville's black eye, and then I saw his eyes cut toward Ron's swollen nose.
"We did it! We won-you won!" Ron exclaimed. "And Neville and I fought Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and we won!" he said, sounding even more excited.
"Wow-nice one, you two!" Harry responded, admiring their handy work. "Does that hurt, Neville?" Harry asked, pointing to his bruised eye socket.
"A bit," Neville shrugged. "But it was worth it," he said, smiling.
"Too right it was!" Ron agreed, smiling contentedly.
"So Harry-is that the fastest the Snitch has ever been caught?" I questioned. He shrugged.
"Maybe, but all that matters is that we won!"
"Of course," I agreed, grinning. "So where were you?" I asked. "How come you weren't with the rest of the team?"
He suddenly looked conspiratorial. "Think we can slip out of here for a bit? There's something I need to show you all-it's why I was late."
"More adventures?" Sally asked, sounding dubious. Ron and Neville simply looked curious. The latter's recent fight must have given him a jolt of courage, because he would have balked just a week before at nighttime adventures.
"No, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "Just something I need to show you away from prying eyes and ears," he continued, glancing around the common room at the partying Gryffindors.
"Sure," I said, "just tell anyone who asks that you left something at the pitch," I suggested. "We can all meet in that unused classroom just down the hall, if you want." I was curious about what had distracted Harry so thoroughly from his marvelous win, so I wanted to hear what was on his mind.
The others agreed and he said he would meet us there. To avoid suspicion, we slipped out of the common room one by one, and ten minutes later we were sitting at four desks in the classroom, waiting for Harry.
The door opened and he came in. He had the Pensieve I'd bought him for Christmas in his hands, and he set it on the large desk at the front of the room.
"Is that a Pensieve?" Ron asked. Neville looked like he recognized it as well, though Sally did not.
Harry nodded. "It is. Hermione got me this for Christmas."
Ron looked sideways at me. "Wicked."
"I'm glad you approve," I told him, rolling my eyes.
"What is a Pensieve?" Sally wondered.
"It plays memories like movies," I told her, explaining it in Muggle terms. She still looked mystified, but nodded in acceptance of whatever she about to see.
Harry put his wand to his temple and began to withdraw the pearly strand of his memory. "When I was putting my Nimbus back in the equipment shed, I saw someone come out of the castle and head for the Forbidden Forest. I knew it was Snape just by the way he walked, so I mounted my broom and followed him from above. This is what I heard," he said, and placed the strand in the Pensieve. He swirled the magical essence and it coalesced into a murky image.
From a high vantage point, I could see Snape; he was outlined by the bright moon as it shone into some kind of clearing. There was another figure there, and after several seconds I realized it was Quirrell by the turban on his head.
"I'm not sure why you w-wanted to meet here of all p-laces, Severus," Quirrell said, stuttering as usual.
"I thought we would keep this private," Snape said, and his voice was low and menacing. He sounded genuinely frightening, not just his usual sneering self. "Students are not supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."
If Quirrell was surprised by what Snape said, he didn't show it. The two men stared at each other.
"Have you found out how to get past Hagrid's dog yet?" Snape asked, leaning forward and putting his face into Quirrell's.
"But S-Severus, I-"
"You do not want me as an enemy, Quirrell," Snape said, now sounding truly cold. Quirrell took a step back.
"I d-don't know what you mean."
"You know perfectly well what I mean. I cannot be fooled by your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."
"Severus, I r-really don't think y-you g-get it-"
"Very well," Snape overrode him. The viewpoint shifted slightly as Harry leaned forward to better hear what Snape said. I felt slightly nauseous as the disconcerting shift in perception settled. "We will have another chat very soon, when you have had time to think everything over and are ready to decide where your loyalties lie."
I saw a clear night sky with a bright moon and twinkling stars as Harry rose into the sky on his broom.
Deafening silence echoed through the classroom as we all considered what we'd just witnessed.
"So we were right," Ron said, sounding slightly sick. "It is the Philosopher's Stone."
"Yeah, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to steal it with him."
It was very hard to deny Snape's involvement based on this evidence, and as much as I didn't want to articulate it, Snape was now a very dangerous person.
"Snape asked if Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy," I said, slowly, listening to the conversation again in my head. "And then he said something about Quirrell's hocus-pocus. Other than Fluffy, there must be other things guarding the Stone." It all seemed to make sense now.
"Sure, like enchantments," Ron agreed.
"And Quirrell would have set something up to defend against the Dark Arts," Sally said, and I nodded. He did teach DADA, and was supposedly the most qualified to cast spells for that.
"That Snape would have to break through to get the Stone," I concluded. It took us all a moment or two, but soon enough we all looked shocked.
"You mean," Neville started, sounding very worried, "the Stone's only safe because Quirrell's standing up to Snape?"
"Snape will have the Stone before March," Ron said, summing up perfectly the tone of all our thoughts. I looked to Harry and saw him gazing into the sparkling contents of the Pensieve. It reflected in wavy patterns off his face. He looked at all of us.
"We should go to Dumbledore."
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