Chapter 11

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As Harry had told us, Dumbledore had convinced Harry 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 his trunk. Which is good, not just good but, like, good.

On the other hand, I started having nightmares. Over and over again I dreamed about flashes of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

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 three, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Hermione and Ron were playing a game of chess when Harry came back from Quidditch practice. Chess was the only thing that Hermione ever lost at, which I thought was very good at keeping her sane.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen-" We caught sight of Harry's face.

"What's the matter? You look terrible." I pointed out

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," I added, earning a whack from Hermione.

"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 we recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt 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 us.

"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!" I urged. "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.

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.

"Malfoy's a little bitch who was put into Slytherin by the sorting hat," I said, "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? There must have been a reason behind it, Neville. You are brave, I would have cried way waaaaaaaay more if my wrist had broken like yours did."

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