The boys, Hermione found out, had not found Nicolas Flamel during the holidays. In fact, they hadn't even looked.
Ron welcomed her back enthusiastically, promising her something great once they couldn't be overheard. Harry on the other hand looked very withdrawn. When she asked what was up, Ron fended her off with a mumbled, “I'll tell you later.”
The great thing Ron was talking about was a Christmas present Harry had gotten. Someone, they suspected Professor Dumbledore, had given him an Invisibility Cloak that had once belonged to his father. These objects were very rare and very expensive, but very useful too.
Harry had tried to use it to search the Restricted Area of the library, but the books there didn't want to be looked at by unauthorized people. The one Harry had picked had started to scream and almost given him away.
At this point in the tale Harry announced that he would go to bed. Ron gave him a sad look and went on telling.
Fleeing from Filch and Snape, Harry had stumbled upon yet another rare magical object, the Mirror of Erised. This mirror, it turned out, showed the one who looked into it their greatest desire. Harry had seen his family. Ron went silent after that, letting it sink in.
“He was really excited,” he finally said. “The night after that he dragged me to the room. He wanted to show me his family. But it didn't work of course, I could only see my own greatest desire.” He grimaced. “I saw myself as Quidditch Captain and Head Boy,” he said, sounding disgusted. “I was holding the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. Really, I don't know what that mirror's thinking.
“Anyway, ever since then Harry's acted strange. Even at the mirror he didn't want to let me look at myself any longer, he practically shoved me aside so he could see his parents again.
“I tried to tell him not to go again the next day. He didn't listen. It was scary, his eyes were burning. Lucky he met Dumbledore there.”
“He met Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione gasped.
“Yeah, he was right there in the room, waiting for Harry. In fact, he was there the night before, too, just invisible. Dumbledore explained the mirror to Harry and warned him not to come again. He said that people have gone mad looking at their desire.
“He was right, Hermione. Look at Harry. He's having nightmares, he's screaming in his sleep. He's seeing his parents being murdered.”
Ron swallowed hard.
“Dumbledore convinced Harry not to go looking for the mirror again. I hope it will get better now. Well, that's the story of our holiday. How was yours?”
Hermione stared at Ron. He said all that and then just changed the subject? But his face said clearly that he wouldn't speak of Harry any more, so she resigned to telling him about her Christmas.
The chess set Hermione had received from her parents turned out to be very useful as Ron had taught Harry to play during the holidays. Harry had also acquired a complete set from wizard crackers, while Ron played with one that had once belonged to his grandfather.
Hermione had always thought that she was decent at chess; it was, after all, a game for thinkers. But not only did Ron win every game against her easily, even Harry won most of his games against her. Her chess pieces became more sarcastic by the day and took a long time of convincing to agree to her moves. Even more infuriating was that Harry and Ron seemed to be of the opinion that losing was very good for Hermione.
They continued their search for Nicolas Flamel during their free time. Often it was only Ron and Hermione, as Harry was more busy than ever with Quidditch practice. However, they weren't any more successful than before the holidays. Hermione was completely through her list and they still hadn't found a sign. In fact, they were close to giving up their search and spent less and less time in the library.
One such evening they were in the Common Room playing chess while Harry was at Quidditch practice. Hermione shuddered at the thought of being outside. It was very cold and very rainy these days, but that didn't seem to dampen Wood's enthusiasm at all. Hermione preferred to be inside, especially now that for the first time it looked as there was a remote chance she might win the game against Ron. He was taking longer than usual for his moves and his chess pieces had lost a bit of their arrogance.
The portrait hole opened and a very muddy Harry crawled in, looking very tired and – afraid. It was not an emotion she would associate with Harry, but there it was. He wandered over to them and dropped into a chair.
“Don't talk to me for a moment,” said Ron. “I need to concen-” He broke off when he looked at Harry. “What's the matter with you? You look terrible.”
“Snape,” said Harry very quietly. “He's refereeing the next game. He's never refereed before.”
“Don't play,” Hermione said at once. Snape refereeing could only mean that he wanted a better chance to get to Harry.
“Say you're ill,” said Ron.
“Pretend to break your leg.”
“Really break your leg.”
“I can't,” Harry said. “There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all.”
Hermione opened her mouth, but at that moment Neville practically fell into the Common Room. Fell, because his legs were stuck together with the Leg-Locker Curse. Hermione had no idea how he had climbed through the portrait hole or even reached it, but it wasn't important. She jumped up and broke the curse even while everyone else broke into laughter. Neville got up and she led him back to where Harry and Ron were sitting. He was shaking very hard.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Malfoy,” he replied weakly. “I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practise that on.”
“Go to Professor McGonagall! Report him!”
But Neville shook his head.
“I don't want more trouble,” he mumbled.
“You've got to stand up to him, Neville!” said Ron. “He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.”
Somehow it was the wrong thing to say. Neville almost broke into tears.
“There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that,” he choked.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, which he gave to Neville.
“You're worth twelve of Malfoy,” he said. “The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.”
That cheered Neville up; he almost smiled 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?”
He handed Harry the card and walked slowly towards the boys' dorms. Harry looked at the card.
“Dumbledore again,” he said, turning the card over. “He was the first one I ever -”
He gasped and his eyes went wide as he stared at the backside of the card. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione.
“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: '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'!”
It hit Hermione like a lighting bolt. She whispered, “Stay there!” and sprinted up to her room, from where she retrieved All Ancient Alchemy. Then she ran back to the boys who were still in the same position she left them.
“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”
“Light?” said Ron, staring at the huge book.
“Be quiet, I need to look something up.”
The book had no index, so she had to search page by page, but eventually she found the section she was looking for. She quickly scanned the page.
“I knew it! I knew it!”
“Are we allowed to speak yet?” Ron asked grumpily. Hermione ignored him.
“Nicolas Flamel,” she proclaimed quietly, “is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone.”
She looked at them expectantly, but met only blank looks.
“The what?” the boys asked together.
“Oh, honestly, don't you two read?” Even Muggles knew of the Philosopher's Stone. “Look – read that, there.”
She pushed the book towards them, pointing at the section on the Stone.
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? 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 ever dying!” said Harry musingly. “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?”
“I'm going to play,” Harry told Ron and Hermione after next morning's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Hermione looked at him. She had completely forgotten about the impending Quidditch match over the excitement of the last evening. So, apparently, had Ron. The boys had spent the whole lesson discussing what they might do with all the money they could get with a Stone.
“If I don't,” Harry reasoned, “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 pitch,” said Hermione darkly.
“We've got to do something,” Hermione declared when Harry was off at practice. “Something to prevent Snape from hurting Harry.”
Ron nodded. Like her, he wasn't concentrating on their chess game at all, despite the loud complaints of his pieces. He made a move and stared past Hermione.
“Neville!” he suddenly whispered. Hermione looked around. Neville was indeed just coming down the stairs of the boys' dormitory, but there was nothing special about him.
“What's with Neville?” she asked.
“Remember the curse? You can't fly with your legs locked. We could use it on Snape if he tries anything.”
Curse a teacher? A teacher who attempted to kill a student, she corrected herself.
“Can you cast the curse?”
“Can you?”
Hermione nodded.
“I think so. I know how it works, I've never tried, though.”
“We've got an hour before Harry comes back.” Ron stood up. “Let's find a classroom and practice.”
“Locomotor Mortis!” Hermione cried. Ron's legs snapped together and he reached for a chair for balance.
“I think I've got it,” she said. Ron nodded. Over the past hour he had endured many slightly miscast spells. She performed the counter-curse.
“My turn next time,” he said. “We've got to go back now.”
Harry was nervous, even if he told them he was not. They took to accompanying him everywhere. They met Snape several times a day, and they couldn't risk him catching Harry alone.
By the time the match was scheduled, both Ron and Hermione could cast the Leg-Locker Curse in their sleep. They said goodbye to Harry at the entrance to the changing rooms, wondering if they'd ever see him again up close. Then they went off to the stands and found a place next to Neville. They watched Snape come on the grounds, floating the box with the balls before him.
Hermione was nervous. She tried not to show it, but there it was, like a big lump of ice in her stomach. She looked at Ron, who was slipping his wand up his sleeve for easier access.
“Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis,” she muttered.
“I know,” replied Ron surprisingly forceful. “Don't nag.”
“Look at that,” Neville said suddenly. “Even Dumbledore has come to watch.”
Hermione looked over to the teachers' area and let out an audible breath of relief, just as Ron did the same. Professor Dumbledore was indeed sitting in the stands, chatting with Professor Flitwick. With him there, there was no way Snape could do anything to Harry. Yet Hermione was not about to lose her alertness. Unlike Professor Dumbledore, she knew that Snape might try something, so she could react faster, seconds that might be crucial for Harry's survival.
It was hard to tell from the distance, but Snape looked very angry as the teams marched on the pitch. Ron, who had better eyes than Hermione, confirmed it.
“I've never seen Snape look so mean,” he said. “Look – they're off. Ouch!”
Hermione looked at him; behind him, Malfoy and his thugs were standing.
“Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there,” the boy drawled. Hermione tuned him out and concentrated on the match. Lee Jordan, the commentator, was walking a narrow path on the edge of detention.
“The referee for this match is Professor Snape. Professor Snape has never refereed a game in the memory of the students, but if his style is anything like his teaching style then this match could be very interesting, though not in the usual sense.”
Professor McGonagall was glaring daggers at him, but couldn't yet interfere. Besides, some of her glares were directed at Snape, who had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because one of the beaters had directed a Bludger his way, or maybe the way of the Hufflepuff player behind him.
Hermione noticed very little of the match or of her surroundings, except that Malfoy kept saying stupid things. She was concentrating on Harry, all her fingers crossed, hoping that he would catch the Snitch soon and safely return to the ground. He was again high in the air, circling over the pitch, ready to go into one of his insane dives at the first hint of something golden. Still, she let Lee's commentary filter into her mind.
“It's Spinnet with the Quaffle – she dodges a Bludger – passes to Bell – no, Quaffle intercepted by the Hufflepuff Captain – who drops it – what the? OK, looks like a penalty for Hufflepuff, no idea why – taken by MacMillan – but Wood saves, this guy really is incredible -”
Suddenly Harry dropped from the sky like a stone, gathering speed.
“Ron!” Hermione called. “Harry -!”
“What? Where?”
By now Harry resembled a vertical red blur more than anything. The Hufflepuff Chaser tried to follow him, but was left far behind. The only problem was that Snape was directly in Harry's flight path. Hermione stood up, stuffing her hands into her mouth. Something moved next to her, but she ignored it.
“Come on, Harry!” she screamed, leaping on to her seat. Harry was still heading for Snape, who hadn't yet noticed him. It looked as if he was about to spear him on his broom. Then Snape turned on his stick, Harry altered his direction – and streaked past Snape, missing him by inches. Moments later he pulled out of his dive, clutching the Snitch in his raised hand.
Hermione let out a shriek of triumph. The stands erupted in shouts and Lee happily proclaimed the Gryffindor win, “despite adverse conditions.”
Hermione felt like hugging someone. She made a grab for Ron, but he wasn't next to her any longer.
“Ron! Ron! Where are you?” she called. “The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor are in the lead!” More importantly, Harry had survived. Her mind was a wonderful blur. She hugged Parvati, who was standing right in front of her, instead of the missing Ron.
On the pitch, Harry had landed and his team was rushing towards him. The first to reach him, though, was Professor Dumbledore.
Putting Harry's safety out of her head for a moment, Hermione went looking for Ron. She found him under her seat, still locked with Malfoy, his nose bleeding heavily. Malfoy had a nasty welt next to his eye. Both were staring at the Quidditch pitch, their brawl forgotten. Next to them, Neville lay, knocked unconscious by Crabbe and Goyle, who were looking at the pitch too.
Even as she looked, Malfoy gathered his followers and left, shooting murderous glares at Ron.
Ron turned to her and grinned.
“We won,” he said simply, completely ignoring his bloody face. He laughed.
“We won!” he shouted, jumping up. Together they cheered.
Seamus and Dean came over, looking just as excited as they.
“Incredible,” Dean called.
“Must be a school record,” Seamus added. “What happened to Neville?” he said, spotting the boy lying on the floor.
“Took on Crabbe and Goyle,” Ron laughed. “Way to go.”
Her initial euphoria dampened, rational thought returned to Hermione's brain.
“We should take him to the hospital wing,” she said.
“Right,” said Ron. “Come on.”
He lifted Neville's arms and Dean and Seamus took a leg each. Then they wandered off towards the castle.
Madam Pomfrey asked few questions. She just told them to place Neville on a bed, then healed Ron's nosebleed. After a short examination she told them that Neville would be fine. The other students went back to the Gryffindor tower, where a huge party was already in progress. Fred and George had sneaked to the kitchens and obtained large amounts of food. They joined the celebrations, but soon Harry's absence started to worry them. What if Snape had caught him on his way to the castle?
When Hermione told Ron about her worries he immediately agreed to go looking for Harry. Luckily they met him on their way to the Entrance Hall.
“Harry, where have you been?” she asked him.
“We won! You won! We won!” shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. “And I gave Malfoy a black eye and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right – talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the Common Room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens.”
Harry, however, was looking quite horrified.
“Never mind that now,” he said, sounding as if he had run the whole distance from the pitch. “Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this...”
After hearing what Harry had to say, she assumed that he really had run all the way from the pitch. Taking his broom to the broomshed, he had seen Snape sneaking into the forbidden forest. He had followed him on his broom and had overheard a conversation between Snape and Professor Quirrell.
“Snape had arranged it. He wanted to meet in the Forbidden Forest because students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone.
“So we where right, it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus' – I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell which Snape needs to break through -”
“So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?” Hermione asked in alarm.
“It'll be gone by next Tuesday,” said Ron.