Tory Potter and the Pathological Liar

Nataliya the Norwegian Ridgeback

"Suspicious" is the first word that came to mind when I saw Professor Quirrell growing paler and thinner in the passing weeks.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside.

Professor Snape was sweeping about in his usual temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe.

Whenever Harry passed Professor Quirrell these days, he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Professor Quirrell's stutter.

I, on the other hand, regarded the man as a high danger and would always watch him suspiciously. I wouldn't fall for his fake stutter and pathetic act.

Hermione, on the third hand, had more on her mind than the Philosopher's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all of her notes.

We wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging us to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away," Harry stated.

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped, "That's not ages. That's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for? You know it all."

"What am I studying for?" Hermione asked, "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams in order to get into the second year? They're very important. I should have started a month ago. I don't know what's gotten into me..."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on us that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as fun as the Christmas ones.

It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements.

Moaning and yawning, Harry, Ron, and I spent most of our free time in the library with her, trying to get through all our extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking out of the library longingly window.

It was the first really fine day they'd seen in months. The sky was a clear forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

I was secretly agreeing with Ron, especially as I stared down at my transfiguration homework.

"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" Ron exclaimed.

Mr. Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat. "Jus' lookin'," he said in a shifty voice that got our interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still looking fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron said impressively, "And we know what that dog's guarding. It's the Philosopher's St-"

"Shhh!" Mr. Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it. What's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry said, "About what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy-"

"Shhh!" Mr. Hagrid shushed again. "Listen - come an' se me later. I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here. Students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"

"See you later, then," Harry said.

Mr. Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.