𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 ✓

𝟏𝟓

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　　✦

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.