Our Secret Marriage: First Year

Chapter 13:We Found Flamel

After Professor Dumbledore had convinced Harry and me to not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again. For the rest of the Christmas holidays, Harry's invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk.

A few days later, Harry confides in me that he wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily as I did, but he couldn't. Instead, he started having nightmares. Over and over again tells me he dreams about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

And every time he tells me this, I have no idea how to respond because I too have these nightmares except the person disappearing in a flash of green light is Severus.

To make things worse, 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 and me being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row, and disappointment that we hadn't found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

As of now, we are almost n the brink of giving up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Though the chances of him ever coming across his name before in a book is slim.

Once term started, all four of us were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Harry had even less time compared to the rest of us, because Quidditch practice had also started again.

"What's the matter with you? You look terrible." I murmur, during study hall one day which was after one gruelling Quidditch practice.

Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow didn't stop the Gryffindor team from practising. Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the three of us about Professor Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," Hermione says at once.

"Say you're ill," Ron adds.

"Pretend to break your leg," I suggest softly.

"Really break your leg," Ron counters.

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

At that moment Neville toppled into the great hall. How he had managed to was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what I recognised 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 and me, going up to him I perform the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?"I ask him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.

"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!" Hermione urged Neville. "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. Giving Neville a small smile, I silently promise to curse Draco when I get back to the common room. "Besides by the way Victoria has that nasty gleam in her eyes, I know she's planning something awful on my behalf."

I blush having been caught. Flipping open one of the many library books I've borrowed, I suddenly find myself reading a passage about Nicolas Flamel. Jumping up in excitement, I slam the book on the table causing Harry, Ron and Hermione to jump.

"I found Flamel!"

Dumbledore who is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"Where did you get this?" Hermione asks, bewildered, looking up at me.

"Obviously I got it from the library," I answer obviously, rolling my eyes.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" Harry continues, not really listening to my response. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry grew serious.

"I'm going to play," he tells us. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," Hermione added softly.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, despite whatever he had told us previously. The rest of the Gryffindor team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee? Even as a Slytherin, I don't want to see such an unfair match to be played. Potions lessons are turning into a sort of weekly torture, Professor Snape was so horrible to Harry. Despite me, defending Harry and helping him out of tough spots, Professor Snape treated him no better.

On the day of the match, Ron, Hermione, and I found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why we looked so grim and worried, or why we had all brought our wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practising the Leg-Locker Curse while I have been practising the Stupefy. Hermione had gotten the idea from Draco after he used it on Neville, and if that didn't work...I'd have to Stupefy him like I did the troll, not that I want to hurt him...it's just...I'm worried for both their safety... and I are ready to go to any means if Professor Snape showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry or vice versa.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snaps. "If you want to nag, nag at Vic. Her role is more important."