Everlasting (H.P x fem.reader) YEARS 1-4

Year One: Chapter Nine

Y/n's POV

Dumbledore had convinced Harry and I not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stayed folded at the bottom of Harry's trunk.

I tried to forget what I'd seen in the mirror, it would never happen, especially now since I was at Hogwarts. I could still find myself day dreaming of a life with that reality.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could've drove you two crazy," said Ron, when Harry had told him about his nightmares involving his parents.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things.

She was torn between horror of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school for three nights in a row and me for two nights (If Filch would've caught you!"), and disappointed that Harry hadn't at least found out who Nicholas Flamel was.

We had almost given up any hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry kept saying he was pretty sure he'd read that name somewhere.

Once term started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry and I had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch training started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that replaced the snow couldn't dampen our spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but I was on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years.

During one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" He spluttered through of a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of our team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, I thought, but I had another reason for not wanting Snape near us while playing Quidditch.

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

"Don't talk to me for a minute," said Ron when Harry and I sat next to them. "I need to conce—"

he caught sight of our horrified faces.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"Harry you look horrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, I told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Qudditch referee.

"Don't play, either of you," said Hermione at once.

"Why me?" I questioned.

"Snape hates you almost as much as he hates Harry, he might go after you if Harry's not there." She explained.