Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (DISCONTINUED)

Nicolas Flamel

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. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," Ron told him, when he told both him and Alexandria about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took different views 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 Nicholas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure that he'd read the name somewhere. Once term started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry and Alexandria had even less times than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys twins complained that Wood was becoming fanatic. If Gryffindor won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years.

Then, 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 twins, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall of 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?" Alexandria spluttered in disbelief, her plaits soaked and her Quidditch gear drenched. She flew down to land next to George, who was sitting up from the ground as he spoke.

"When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin," he said.

The rest of the team landed to complain, too.

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

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

"Don't talk to me for a moment," Ron said when Harry and Alexandria sat down next to him and Hermione, "I need to concen — " He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

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

"Don't play," Hermione said at once.
"Say you're ill," Ron added.
"Pretend to break up leg," Hermione suggested.
"Really break your leg," Ron said.

"Alexandria can but I can't," Harry said. "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 holes was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.