The Dark Prophecy

A Very Loud Christmas

"What are you looking for, girl?" Madam Pince asked, blocking the gate to the restricted section, with crossed her arms and a glare as she spoke to a now scowling Hermione.

Hermione had been obsessed with the restricted section ever since she had first visited the library, spending a lot of her time there gazing longingly, dreaming of the books inside.

On this day, she had stood up and moved to the gate, perhaps to study the lock or such, but Madam Pince, with her ever sharp eye, had spotted her and swiftly strided over.

"Nothing," she said coldly and sat back down next to Ron, pouting as she opened a book at random and started to read.

The four of them, Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione, had been searching for any books on a certain "Nicholas Flamel" ever since Hagrid had let the name slip a few weeks ago, however, they were so far completely unsuccessful.

Now, it was the Christmas holidays, and the castle was starting to drain of students, most going home for the holidays. Harry had, of course, stayed to resist going back to the Dursley's, and Ron had refused to see his parents after his sorting, but both Hermione and Draco had decided to go home for the holiday.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything." 

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them." 

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione. 

"What about your parents?" Harry asked Draco. "They're quite knowledgeable right? Especially your dad."

"Of course I can ask, and yes, they are," Draco said smugly, to which Ron rolled his eyes to hide a pang of jealousy. Ron was always envious whenever Draco's well-respected, rich family were mentioned, wishing his family could be like the Malfoys.

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves, and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the green-tinged fire. They sat by the hour eating anything the could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, English muffins, marshmallows -- and plotting cruel ways to "prank" other students (primarily Gryffindors).

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen he had stolen from a weedy looking second year, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a particularly good player yet -- which frustrated him -- and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing, and he had to repair the pieces quite a few times after blasting them apart from losing his temper. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." 

On Christmas, he woke early in the morning, the first thing he saw being a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. "Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? See how many presents I have!"

Sure enough, his pile was considerably larger than Ron's, and has Harry ripped open some, he saw they were mostly from other Slytherins, students who admired, or feared, him, he assumed, and he took great pleasure in setting every opened present in a growing pile.