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Harry had his head in his hands once he realised Snape was refereeing the next Quidditch match. Also about the fact we had no idea who Nicolas Flamel was.

"What am I going to do?" Harry pouted. "Break your leg?" I suggested. "I know a spell."

"JOY!" Hermione scolded me. I held my hands up in mock surrender.

As the others were looking for a solution, I helped myself to a chocolate frog.

I looked at the card and I got Dumbledore. I turned the card around and I read it. My eyes widened and I gasped. "Look! LOOK!"

I read out what was on the back of the card. "Professor Dumbledore 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!"

Hermione leapt up and had a big smile on her face. She ran upstairs and brought down a book.

"Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone," she told us, pointing at a passage.

"The what?" Ron mumbled. "Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes and showed us the passage. "It produces the Elixir of Life, Nicolas Flamel is over six hundred and fifty years old."

"Shut up!" I gasped.

"That's what Fluffy is guarding," Harry stated. "That's what Snape is after!"

Unfortunately, I got sick again when the Quidditch match came around. I lay in the infirmary, sweating uncontrollably due to a high fever, trying not to cry because the pain was unbearable. Everything hurt.

"Drink up, Jones," Madam Pomfrey gave me the potion and I chugged it, the pain was more bearable and I lay down in bed.

"How long will I be here," I sighed, curling in a ball. "Two days," Madam Pomfrey told me. "You're very brave Jones, I'd be screaming my head off if I was in your position."

"I have a high tolerance for pain," I told her, thinking about that one group home I was in.

"Well, you'll have some good days and some bad days with this pain," she said. "At least the potion tastes not so horrible," I muttered.

"Get some rest, Jones," she advised me.

***

"Miss Jones is in a lot of pain," I heard Madam Pomfrey say. "Make it quick."

I opened my eyes to see Harry, Ron and Hermione sitting by my bedside. "How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?" Ron asked me.

"Seven and a quarter," I murmured. "Did we win?"

Ron nodded. "And Malfoy got a black eye from me."

I chuckled and I sat up, wincing. "Joy?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I brushed off Harry's worried tone. "It's the Philosopher's Stone," he's whispered to me. "Snape's blackmailing Quirrell and asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy, but there's more guarding the Stone, enchantments and Snape is trying to get Quirrell to do some Dark Arts spell of some kind."

"Basically, the Stone will likely be gone by next Tuesday," Hermione told me.

"Crap," I murmured. "But what was Malfoy saying?"

"Making fun of my family, Neville...God I wanted to kill him," Ron clenched his fists.

"Crabbe and Goyle are also spreading rumours..about you," Hermione sighed. "What are they saying?" I mumbled.

"That you have some kind of pox, dragon pox," Harry told me. I suddenly burst out laughing, shocking the three of them. "Ha! Those dopes, let them think I have dragon pox."

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