Dumbledore had apparently convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, saying it would be moved to a new location. Levina nearly had a fit over hearing this; with no pictures of her own, the mirror was her only means of seeing her parents. She even dreamt of the mirror, her sanity dwindling the more she thought about it.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron.

"I know," Levina relented, sighing as she rested her chin on her folded arms. "I just wish I could go one more time…" The necklace, at least, gave her somewhat more of a connection to her departed mother. Knowing that she had once worn it before, in these very same halls, brought her some comfort.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that the three of them hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, but they preserved nevertheless, determined. 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 two, because Quidditch practice had started again, so it was up to the three of them to do the vast majority of the work.

After one of Harry's practices, he headed back to the Gryffindor common room, where Ron and Hermione were playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her. Levina sat in the armchair next to them, drawing Lilypad on a sheet of parchment (with much difficulty, for the small kitten kept tumbling off of the chair it was in to paw at a piece of string on Ron's cloak).

"All right there, Harry?" Levina asked, dropping the quill as Lilypad leapt from the chair once more. Harry looked rather ill.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen -" Then he, too, 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 three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"'Accidentally' don't show up," said Levina.

"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."

"Break Snape's leg," said Levina.

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 Levina and 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, Levina, and Ron.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"Yeah, like letting him get away with what he wants will deter him," Levina pointed out sarcastically.

"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."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"Oh, come on, Neville, you know that's not what he meant," said Levina, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry dug around in 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 Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? 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... 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, Levina, 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: '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'!"

Levina gasped in delight and 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. The three of them 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?" said Ron, but Hermione told him 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.

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

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry, Levina, and Ron in perfect sync.

"Oh, honestly, don't you three read? Look—read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry, Levina, and Ron 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 Hermione, when they 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."

Levina groaned. "Snape, never dying? Now our kids will have to deal with him someday, too!"

"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?"

"So who broke into the vault at Gringott's, then?" Levina demanded, studying the text on the page before her, still trying to put everything together in her head. "Surely not Snape?"

"Maybe. I'm sure there's more than one person after it," said Harry.

…

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Levina, and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. Levina commented that she would probably use it on Lilypad, since felines didn't live as long as humans. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry seemed to remember about Snape and the coming match.

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

"That's the spirit, Harry!" said Levina. "That'll really show Snape. And he can't very well put a curse on you while he's the referee, and everyone's watching him."

Levina, Ron, and Hermione wished Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, then headed up to the stands, finding a place beside Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Unbeknownst to Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'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.

"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."

Levina kept her wand at the ready, tucked in her pocket facing down, so she could grab it at any given moment. "I still don't think this is necessary," she said. "Like I said before, I doubt Snape'll try anything with so many people watching him. I think we need to be more worried about how biased he is…"

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," said Ron, and Levina followed his gaze to where Snape was, indeed, looking exceedingly sour.

"He's probably just upset because Dumbledore's here," said Levina. "He can't try anything without him noticing, after all.

"Look!" said Ron. "They're off—Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley? Snowpetal?"

Levina grit her teeth and fingered the wand in her pocket, trying to calm herself before she did something she'd regret. Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Levina whirled around to glare at him. "And there's Malfoy, who's got no heart," she added coldly. "We'd make some right good contestants for the next Wizard of Oz, wouldn't we?"

Draco looked confused but put out by her comment, and Neville went bright red, but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

"Brain size doesn't correlate with smarts," said Levina smoothly. "But I've heard feet size are directly related to something else, and yours are rather small, aren't they—?"

"You guys!" said Hermione suddenly, whilst Draco's face became beet red, "Harry—"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.

Neville and Levina exchanged looks, as if to say, "Why not?", then dove into the scuffle.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape—she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville and Goyle. Levina had taken on Crabbe herself, and for the big guy that he was, she got some decent blows in. Whether or not this was because he was holding back because she "was a girl," Levina didn't care. She hit him squarely in the nose, bloodying it.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly. Levina didn't bother to stop to cheer, too busy with making good work of Crabbe's already butt-ugly face.

"Ron! Levina! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. "You guys—oh for goodness sakes!" she added, seeing the scuffle occurring behind her. "Honestly, you three!"

After the game was over, Hermione, Ron, and Levina awaited Harry outside of the common room. Levina's clothing was slightly rumpled and dirtied, but she was none the worse for wear. Crabbe, on the other hand, had been left with a bloody nose and several large, blotchy bruises.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked, and they turned to see Harry running up the stairs, looking rather pale and anxious. For having just won a game in record timing, Levina couldn't see what would be upsetting him.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, Levina absolutely clobbered Crabbe, and Neville tried to take on Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomftey 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."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard in an exchange between Snape and Quirrell.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss—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 that Snape needs to break through—"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

"More like an hour," said Levina.

Apologies for the shorter chapter—but hey, I cranked out two tonight, so whatever. Remember to review, please!