Hello, enjoy 😊 I feel powerful why? Well I wrote this and part 7 on the same day but decide to post this later
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"We have flying lessons with the Slytherins!" Whined Ronald for the 5th time.
Harry would have stopped him and told him there was nothing wrong with the Slytherins if it weren't for Parkinson and her gang.
They had been bullying Harry, Ron and Hermione ever since Harry rejected Parkinson's friend request and on top of that when they saw Harry hanging out with Lyra they started picking on her too.
Every once a a week one of them was either crying, shouting, or just questioning why they even exist. And it was really bothering Harry, for the first time he has friends who actually care for him and seeing them sad/mad just made his blood boil.
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Madam Hooch leads the class, gently sending the new fliers off the ground. Though at some point of the class Neville flew up in the air and couldn't stop, all that led to him having an accident and he broke his wrist.
Madam Hooch took him to the hospital, and told everyone to stay on the ground while she was away.
Parkinson noticed a magic ball belonging to Neville,she picked it up, and began to fly around with it. Harry went after Parkinson even though Hermione told him not to, Parkinson threw the ball in the air and the ball started falling. Harry caught it spectacularly and landed safely back on ground.
Just then, Professor McGonagall arrived, reprimanding Harry and ordering him to follow her. But instead of punishing him, McGonagall introduced him to Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she explained that Harry will make an excellent Quidditch player.
And surprise, surprise he made it on the team.
At dinner, Harry excitedly told Ron about joining the Quidditch team but he also told him that Wood wants it to be a secret. Parkinson came over with her cronies Nott and Zabini and they started teasing Harry about getting in trouble earlier. The tension grew and Parkinson challenged Harry to a wizard's duel. Harry accepted, in spite of Hermione's attempt to dissuade them from breaking the school rules.
"You accepted what!" Exclaimed Lyra, all four of them were walking to potions class they had together "Harry.... there slythrins, I am not saying all slythrins are bad it's just that I have a fear it's a trap" said Lyra, Hermione had explained everything to Lyra.
"At least someone gets it" said Hermione
"Don't worry you too, we will be fine"
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Hermione tried to stop them but instead got locked out of the dorm and had to tag along. Neville, wandering around lost, also joined them. And while they were walked there they saw Lyra walking around carrying a potions book.
"What are you doing here past curfew?"Asked Hermione approaching Lyra "I could ask you the same thing" she replied with a smirk on her face "I got locked out,what's your excuse?" "I forgot my book" Lyra stated pulling her book in-front of her face.
Lyra decided she was gonna go with them since she's got nothing else to do.
They arrived at the trophy room, the site of the duel, but Parkinson is nowhere to be found. Suddenly, they hear Argus Filch, the school caretaker, and his cat, Mrs. Norris, enter the room. They began to hide and then ran away. Not sure where they are going, they accidentally ended up in the forbidden area on the third floor, staring at a large and scary three-headed dog. They had managed to get out safely and hide somewhere, though they were terrified.
"Did you see that" started Hermione as soon as they were out of sight.
"See what?" Asked Ron
"There was a trapdoor under the dog" said Lyra
But they couldn't discuss it for long since they needed to get back before they actually get caught.
They all went to sleep still terrified from what they saw but they were also thankful they had survived.
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Holidays
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."
"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Came Parkinson's cold drawl from behind them.
"Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."
Ron dived at Parkinson just as Snape came up the stairs. "WEASLEY!"
Ron let go of the front of Parkinson's robes.
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Parkinson was insultin' his family."
"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."
Parkinson, Nott, and Zabini pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
"I'll get her," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Parkinson's back, "one of these days, I'll get her—"
"I hate them both," said Harry, "Parkinson and Snape."
"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."
So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree, put it in the far corner, would you?"
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of
candles.
"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked. "Just one," said Lyra. "And that reminds me — Harry, Ron,Hermione we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."
"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"
"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."
"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here, I've told yeh, drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."
"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione. "Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere, just give us a hint, I know I've read his name somewhere." "I'm sayin' nothin', said Hagrid flatly.
"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search, Lyra following behind while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one.
"What are you looking for, boy?"
"Nothing," said Harry.
Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. "You'd better get out, then. Go on, out!"
Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, Hermione, and Lyra had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.
Shortly after Lyra was out of the library carrying two books with her. They stood there talking about some book Lyra had seen and how interesting the cover was but she didn't get the chance to read it yet.
Harry and Lyra waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but they weren't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.
About 10 minutes later Hermione and Ron joined them, shaking there heads.
They were all walking to the great hall.
"You will keep looking while We are away, won't you?" Started Hermione "And send me an owl if you find anything."
"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."
"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.
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Both Lyra and Hermione decided they were going to go back home for the holidays.
Hermione wanted to spend more time with her family and Lyra had promised Micheal she would celebrate back at home and she wouldn't dare break a promise.
Lyra spent the entire time there enjoying herself not really thinking about flamel much.
During the holidays a lot of exciting things had happened for starters Micheal had introduced his boyfriend to them, his name was Liam and he was really nice.
The second exciting thing that had happened well it wasn't really exciting but she had a letter from her parents and though it wasn't a nice one she was still happy with it, apparently her parents heard of how she joined Hogwarts and
Befriended Harry Potter from that Parkinson girl because her family was close to them.
It was kinda freaky because they weren't nice in the letter and now they know where she lives and her school so she was always on guard.
Oh but that's not all Harry and Ron had sent a letter one night explaining they had found......
Absolutely nothing yet, so she made a mental note to smack them both when she got back to Hogwarts.
Other than that it was a really nice holiday and she enjoyed it.
Harry and Ron's Christmas (I am not gonna do Hermione's )
We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.
"That's friendly," said Harry.
Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.
"Weird!" he said, "What a shape! This is money?"
"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?"
"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and ,oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."
Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.
"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."
"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.
His next present also contained candy ,a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.
Two parcels left .he opened the one with purple wrapping the first thing he saw was note, he decided to read first:
Merry Christmas Harry,
I didn't really know what to get you, so I made you a mini cake, I hope you enjoy it!.
-Lyra
He pulled out the jar and indeed there was a mini chocolate cake covered with sprinkles inside were two spoons and some small plates
"Can I try too! I mean there's two plates so I she probably wanted me to eat too" Ron exclaimed from beside him. Harry laughed at Ron's excitement "not know I want to open this gift first" he said placing the cake down and pointing at the gift in front of him.
"Alright"
Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is, they're really rare, and really valuable."
"What is it?"
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is, try it on."
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. "It is! Look down!"
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"
Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy
writing he had never seen before were the following words:
Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you.
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.
"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?
Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.
"Merry Christmas!"
"Hey, look! Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.
"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."
"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."
"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head. "You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid,we know we're
called Gred and Forge." "What's all this noise?"
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.
"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."
"I.don't.want." said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.
"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."
They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.
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The mirror of ERISED
Harry came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."
Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."
Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him, the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.
He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything.
They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.
It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.
It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.
He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around.
His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.
But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.
There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?
He looked in the mirror again.
A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes, her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green, exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees,Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.
How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.
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"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.
"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror." "I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.
"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."
"You can see them any old time," said Ron.
"Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"
Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?
"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."
What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.
"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."
"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."
They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but
saw no one else.
just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.
"It's here — just here — yes!"
They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.
There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. "See?" Harry whispered.
"I can't see anything."
"Look! Look at them all...there are loads of them...."
"I can only see you."
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."
Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.
Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image. "Look at me!" he said.
"Can you see all your family standing around you?"
"No, I'm alone, but I'm different, I look older, and I'm head boy!"
"What?"
"I am, I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to, and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup, I'm Quidditch captain, too."
Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"
"How can it? All my family are dead, let me have another look "
"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."
"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."
"Don't push me —"
A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion.
They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking. "Quick!"
Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing — did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.
"This isn't safe, she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."
And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.
The snow still hadn't melted the next morning. "Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron. "No."
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" "No...you go..."
"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."
"Why not?"
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it — and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"
"You sound like Hermione." "I'm serious, Harry, don't go."
That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.
And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all. Except —
"So — back again, Harry?"
Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore.
Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.
"I — I didn't see you, sir."
"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.
"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."
"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?" "It — well — it shows me my family —"
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."
"How did you know —?"
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"
Harry shook his head.
"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"
Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."
"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"
Harry stood up.
"Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"
"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared.
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
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It's been quit some time, dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go searching for the mirror and for the rest of the holiday it was kept folded near his bed.
The day before the term started Hermione and Lyra came back, and of course Ron told them everything Harry wasn't quite sure if they were honored or disappointed, you really can't tell.
Lyra had promised herself she was gonna the two boys so that is exactly what she did the second she saw them.
They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other three, 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 complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years.
Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.
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, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off 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?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron (sometimes Lyra)was very good for her.
"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "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 told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
"Don't play," said Hermione at once.
"Say you're ill," said Ron.
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
"Really break your leg," said Ron.
"I can't," said Harry. "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 hole 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.
Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.
"Parkinson," said Neville shakily. "I met her outside the library. She said she'd been looking for someone to practice that on."
"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report her!" Neville shook his head.
"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.
"You've got to stand up to her, Neville!" said Ron. "She's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of her and make it easier."
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Parkinson's already done that," Neville choked out.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.
"You're worth twelve of Parkinson ," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Parkinson? In stinking Slytherin."
Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. "Thanks, Harry...I think I'll go to bed...." and so Neville walked away
The three decided to go to sleep and hope they find something tomorrow.
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The next morning, right after breakfast, Lyra pulled the three of them aside looking so excited. an enormous old book in her arms.
"I found him" she started and suddenly all four of them were on the ground "I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library two days ago, Harry you remember the book I told you about, the one with interesting cover."
She 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. "Not know Ron" said Hermione who was trying to see what Lyra was looking at.
"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"
"The what?" said Harry and Ron.
"Oh, honestly, don't you two read?" Said Hermione "can I see that Lyra?" She asked
Lyra gave her the book and Hermione read:
The ancient study of alchemy is concerned 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).
"See?" said Lyra looking at Harry and Ron, when Hermione had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer'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."
"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 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 remembered about Snape and the coming match.
"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "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," said Lyra approaching them from behind.
As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione.
The rest of the 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?
Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went.
At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
"Mount your brooms, please"
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"
"JORDAN!" "Sorry, Professor."
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.
"Budge up there, move along." "Hagrid!"
Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said.
"We don't want you attacked before you have to be."
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.
Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.
"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.
Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too.
Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.
Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor.
But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"
"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.
"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"
"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.
Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.
"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air." Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.
"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —"
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul..."
"Jordan, I'm warning you —"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened.
His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch.
For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off.
Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control.
He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all.
It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.
Lee was still commentating.
"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet —passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — A no..."
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom...but he can't have...."
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.
"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking.
"Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick
except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."
At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced. "I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione. "What should we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still.
They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.
Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words.
Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.
A sudden yelp told her she had done her job.
Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know what had happened.
In the end Gryffindor won, and the four kids had more reasons to hate snape .
I- y'all this is the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life,
Hooray to me🎉 also thank you much for whoever is reading have a nice day and bye-bye