Evelyn Riddle and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 8: Finding Nicholas Flamel... Finally!

By the time Hermione came back, we still hadn't found Flamel yet.

As I subconsciously flipped through one of my History of Magic textbooks, Harry walked into the common room. He looked a bit sick and annoyed at the same time.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," Ron said as Harry sat down next to me. "I need to concentrate—" He looked at Harry. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Well, that isn't rude at all.

Harry explained to us in a whisper that Professor Snape was referring the Quidditch Match on Saturday.

"Don't play," Hermione said immediately.

"Say you're ill," Ron added.

"You should pretend to break your leg," I said.

"Really break your leg," insisted Ron.

God, Ronald.

"I can't. There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all," Harry explained.

Suddenly, Neville hopped into the common room. His legs were stuck together with what I recognized was the Leg-Locker Curse.

Most of the people in the common room started laughing. I just gave the poor boy a sympathetic smile, while Hermione quickly jumped up and performed the countercurse.

"What happened?" she asked as she led him to the couch we were sitting on.

"Malfoy," Neville choked out. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

That little brat.

"He'll be lucky if I don't immediately jinx him into a jelly next time I see him," I muttered.

Neville gave me a weak smile.

"Go to Professor McGonagall," urged Hermione, ignoring me. "Report him!"

But Neville just shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he murmured.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron said. "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 that I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor," Neville said sadly. "Malfoy's already done that."

Forget the small chance there was of me not jinxing Malfoy — that boy'll be lucky if he doesn't end up in the hospital wing after I'm through with him.

Harry pulled out a chocolate frog and handed it to Neville.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

"Actually, make that worth fifteen of Malfoy," I said. "Malfoy's a spoiled brat — and a jerk. You're loads better than him."

Neville's lips cracked another weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry and Evie... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

Harry looked down at the card and Neville walked away.

"Dumbledore again," Harry said. "He was the first one I ever—"

Suddenly he gasped and looked at us.

"I found him!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel!'"