Harry Potter was in the hospital wing, unconscious. Nobody officially knew why, but the rumors flew thick and fast: he'd defeated Lord Voldemort in the dungeons of the castle, defending a Philosopher's Stone which was apparently hidden there. Professor Quirrell had been killed in the process. Ron Weasley had played a giant game of chess.

Because of Harry's absence, Gryffindor was brutally defeated by Ravenclaw in the last Quidditch match of the season. Oliver valiantly defended his team's goalposts, but without a proper Seeker they were done for.

"Oliver really ought to keep reserve players," said Maisie as they walked back up to the castle, sweating in the early summer sun. "I'm shocked he doesn't. It's not like him not to plan ahead for this sort of thing."

"Well, he didn't find a Seeker until McGonagall spotted Harry," said Owen. "So who would he possibly trust to fly Seeker in Harry's absence?"

"One of the twins could've given it a shot. Or Angelina."

The end-of-term feast wasn't until Monday, but the Great Hall was already decked out in Slytherin colors, at Snape's insistence.

"I can't stand those colors," said Bryony.

"I quite like green," said Pippa, "but not that shade of green."

"It hurts my eyes," Maisie agreed. "And they're being so bloody smug about it!" She happened to make eye contact with Adrian Pucey at the Slytherin table; he gave her a cocky grin and a wink. Maisie shuddered.

"Let's talk about something else," said Owen. "Do you believe what people are saying about Harry Potter?"

"What, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named infiltrated Hogwarts on the back of a professor's head and was taken down by a gang of first years?" Bryony snorted. "Of course not. It's blown out of proportion, like all rumors."

"But what about the Philosopher's Stone?" said Maisie. "I did some reading on it, and Dumbledore does know the guy who made it. Maybe he asked Dumbledore to protect it for him?"

"Why would he do that?" said Owen. "He needs it to live, doesn't he? To make the Elixir of Life or whatever it's called?"

"So maybe none of it's true," said Bryony. "None of it makes any sense. Why would they store such a valuable magical object at a school?"

"We can ask the twins," said Maisie. "Their brother is in the hospital, too. They must know something."

Maisie found the twins after lunch.

"Is your brother okay?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine," said George.

"He's tough," said Fred. "He is a Weasley, after all."

"Thanks for asking," said George.

"Hey, want to come visit him with us?" said Fred. "We were about to go up. We're bringing him Honeydukes candy." He held up a bulging sack. "There's stuff in here for Harry, too."

"But I don't know your brother."

"Not yet," said George, "but we're about to be neighbors, aren't we? You should introduce yourself."

"It's the neighborly thing to do," said Fred.

"Well, when you put it that way." Maisie laughed.

Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were the only patients in the hospital wing, but they were not alone. Although Harry was unconscious, he was surrounded by a pile of sweets and cards from well-wishers. A cluster of Gryffindor first-years was sitting with Ron, talking and eating candy.

"Hello, you lot," said George. "How's the wounded warrior?"

"Madam Pomfrey says I can leave tomorrow morning." Ron gestured to Maisie. "Who's this?"

"Ronnie!" said Fred. "Mind your manners in front of the lady!"

"Sorry," said Ron with his mouth full of chocolate.

"I'm Maisie. Oliver's my brother."

"Oh, right! Fred's mentioned you," said Ron. "Did you really almost catch the Snitch from Charlie?"

"I don't know if I'd say 'almost.' Your brother's a damn good Seeker. Why didn't he go professional?"

Ron shrugged.

"When he got the dragons job, that was it for him," said Fred. "He wouldn't have accepted an offer from the England national team."

"He'd rather spend time with Chinese Ridgebacks and Norwegian Fireballs," said George.

Maisie laughed. "It's Norwegian Ridgeback and Chinese Fireball and you know it."

Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"All right, Ron?" said a small black girl with an enormous cloud of hair.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Stop fussing!"

"How's Harry?" said Fred.

"He's hardly moved," said Hermione authoritatively. "Every now and then he mumbles, but he hasn't woken up. Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right, though."

"What happened?" said Maisie.

The Gryffindors all stared at her.

"Haven't you heard?" said a first-year in a thick Irish brogue. "I thought everybody knew."

"Well, I've heard rumors," Maisie said, "but there's no way they're true."

They only stared.

"You're joking," said Maisie. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was here? In Hogwarts?"

"For months, apparently," said Fred.

"On the back of Professor Quirrell's head," said Ron.

"Oh my God." Maisie gasped. "Fred, do you remember that day when it snowed, and we had a snowball fight—and you and George charmed snowballs to hit the back of Quirrell's turban?"

George blanched.

"Holy shit," said Fred. "I hit the Dark Lord in the face with a snowball."

The first years laughed uproariously.

"I remember that!" said Ron, clutching his sides. "I can't believe it! That was You-Know-Who! And you snowballed him!"

"Like ten times!" said George. "I reckon he'll want his revenge."

"Nah," said Fred. "You need a body to exact revenge. And no way he sets foot in Hogwarts again, with Dumbledore and Harry around to fend him off."

"Was he really after the Philosopher's Stone?" said Maisie.

"Yeah," said Ron, wiping his eyes. "Harry was there the day Hagrid got the Stone out of Gringotts. Somebody broke into that vault the very next day—Quirrell, I guess. It was in the papers. That tipped Harry off that there was something really important in there."

"And we stumbled upon the hiding place accidentally," said Hermione, "on the third floor."

"You mean that corridor that's been off-limits?" Maisie shook her head. "So you guys have been playing detective all year."

"Hardly playing!" Hermione bristled. "We figured out there was somebody after the Stone, which none of the professors even suspected!"

"Yeah!" said Ron. "And we figured out how to get past all the professors' fancy traps, didn't we?"

"Speaking of," said Fred, "make sure to remember the chaps who taught you chess when you're big and famous, Ronnie."

"Yeah, all right," said Ron. "I'll be sure to thank you for enchanting the rooks to hit me on the head."

"Well, it obviously worked," said George. "Not many people could beat McGonagall at chess."

"McGonagall was waiting down there with a chessboard?" said Maisie.

"Obviously not," said Hermione. "It was a gigantic enchanted chessboard. It was quite scary, actually. Wizard chess is brutal."

"So you're Muggleborn?" said Maisie.

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"The way you talk about wizard chess. One of my best friends is the same way."

Hermione eyed Maisie appraisingly. Maisie wanted to squirm under such intense scrutiny, but she held her ground. She didn't need to be intimidated by this sharp first year.

"Blimey," said Fred, looking at the mess of candy wrappers on Ron's bed. "Have you been dipping into Harry's stash as well, Ronnie?"

Ron turned bright red. "It's not as if he's eating it!"

"But what about when he wakes up?" said George. "He'll be chuffed that you ate all his Chocolate Frogs. By the way, we brought you these." He emptied a sack of candy onto Ron's bed.

"How'd you get all this?" said Ron. "The last Hogsmeade weekend was weeks ago."

"We ration our sweets, little brother," said Fred.

"A lesson you'd be wise to learn. We brought this for Harry." George pulled a toilet seat out of the bag.

The first years recoiled. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Maisie laughed once, like a bark. "What the hell, guys?"

Fred shrugged. "We thought it might cheer him up."

"Or he can use it to embellish his bedpan," said George.

"He could hang it on the wall," said Maisie. "With a bit of tinsel, it'd make a lovely Christmas wreath."

"Christmas isn't for six months." Fred chuckled.

"It's never too early to start celebrating," said Maisie.

The Gryffindor first years were giggling. Madam Pomfrey can bustling into the hospital wing.

"This is too much! Too many visitors, too much noise! Mr. Weasley needs his rest. Out, out!"

"Aw, c'mon, Madam Pomfrey!" said Ron. "It's so boring in here!"

"I'm sorry recuperation cannot entail constant entertainment, Mr. Weasley," said Madam Pomfrey. "If you want to be released tomorrow, you will do as I say."

"See you later, Ron," said George. "Rest up."

"We need you in peak condition when Mum sees you and loses it," said Fred.

Ron turned pale. "Do you reckon she'll be mad?"

"Mad that you risked squaring up against one of the most powerful Dark Wizards of all time?" said Fred.

"Nah, I reckon she'll be proud," said George.

"Teary-eyed with joy."

"Bloody hell," said Ron, sinking back into his pillows.

"Bye, Ronnie!" said the twins in singsong voices.

Maisie glanced at Harry's bed on her way out. She'd hardly gotten a look at the famous Harry Potter. The Potters had Indian ancestry, and it showed in Harry's brown skin and dark hair, which stood up every which way. The notorious scar was partially obscured by his messy hair, but it was still visible: forked like lightning, just as the stories said.

He looked very small, laying in the hospital bed. Maisie reminded herself that Ron was there, and Harry was not really alone. Still, a fist squeezed around her heart at the thought of that little boy facing the Dark Lord alone.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is the first book in what I think will be a series of 4, so keep an eye out for the second installment, "Just and Loyal."