The Weasley of Slytherin: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 18:

Harry pulled out a Chocolate Frog from his robes, and gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"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."

"Oi you'd better watch yourself there Potter, don't forget who else is in stinking Slytherin." I said to him glaring. Harry just put his hands up in mock surrender.

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?" As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

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

He gasped, staring at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Hermione, and me.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "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 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 jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry Ron and me barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" I said staring at Hermione, but she just told me to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"I'll take that as a no." I muttered.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.
"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

"Are the two of you deaf? She said Philosopher's stone. P H I L O sopher's stone." I told them.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look – read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry Ron and I read:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher'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 Philosopher'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).

"See?" said Hermione, when we'd finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"I want it!" I said thinking about ways I could get past the dog.

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry Ron and I were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one.

It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told 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."

"You know we could just off Snape." I suggested. "You know make it look like an accident."

"For the last time (Y/n) we're not killing a teacher." Hermione said exasperatedly.

"That's fine you wouldn't have to be the ones doing it, I can do it."

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, his face had turned almost as pale as Malfoy's hair and he looked as though he was going to be sick.

Snape had also been down right awful to Harry. Taking points from Harry for no reason at all.

We wished Harry good luck the next afternoon as he headed towards the locker room. I was thinking what if his things I would nick if he never came back. I had my eye on the invisibility cloak.

Ron Hermione and I had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why we looked so grim and worried, or why we had both brought our wands to the match. This was because we'd been practicing the LegLocker Curse.

We'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry, although I still thought we should be preemptive and knock him off his broom the minute he went into the air.

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

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

"Yeah make sure you say it right Ron it's locomotor mORtis not locomotor mAhRtis." I said mocking Hermione, although she didn't seem to understand it, as Ron did his best to hold back his laugh.

"What." I said pointing my binoculars towards the stands. "Is that Dumbledore?" And sure enough it was. Dumbledore had come to watch the match.

"Perfect! Snape wouldn't dare do anything in front of Dumbledore!" Ron said happily, relaxing in his seat.

"We should still be wary." Hermione said nervously watching Snape. "He looks rather angry."

"Probably cuz he knows he can't do anything with Dumbledore watching." Ron said.

"Maybe it's because he looked in the mirror and saw just how greasy his hair is." I suggested.