"They've been Obliviated?" Hermione asked, ghastly sobs separating her words, echoing in the otherwise quiet library although no one dared to tell Hogwarts' newest ghost to be silent. "They don't remember me at all?"
Harry shook his head. "Apparently it's standard procedure when a Muggle-born dies. It's to protect the Statute of Secrecy. Can't have angry Muggles going around knowing about Wizards. Chances are, they Obliviated all of your family by now," he said apologetically.
Hermione wept loudly, silver tears running down her spectral face. "How did this happen? Why did this happen?"
"I don't know," Harry replied. "But I'm going to find out, and I'm going to make them pay." He clenched his fists in determination.
Harry had the week off of his lessons, and he put those days to use. Practically living in the library he took as many books as he could carry to his table, subjects ranging from Defence Against the Dark Arts, to Potions, to Alchemy.
Someone was obviously trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and because of that Hermione was now dead.
He needed to be more prepared for danger, something evil was lurking at Hogwarts.
The next day, Michael and Padma walked from their last class of the day and headed to the library. "He needs a break," Padma complained. "We barely see him unless we go to the library."
"I know." Michael sighed. "You know he hasn't even slept in the dorm? He's been napping in the library since he got out of the Hospital Wing."
"We're getting him out." Padma strode with a newfound determination in her steps.
They walked to Harry's table, where Hermione floated nearby, Neville stood with her, picking up the books she requested.
Michael looked at Harry, realising how exhausted he looked, dark bags under his restless eyes, numerous plates of half-eaten sandwiches scattered around the half-read books on the table. "Harry," Michael started, "when was the last time you left the library?" he asked.
Harry shrugged, unfocused on the question, his attention held by the 'Travels with Trolls' book that he was speed reading. "Haven't. Need to read. Learn."
"You need rest," Padma argued. "You start lessons again soon, and you can't do them in your state."
Harry finally looked up. "Lessons? What did they help with?" He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I'm doing this on my own." He looked back at the book he was reading.
"They're right." Hermione's voice caught them all by surprise. "You need to stop the obsession."
"But ... You died because of this," Harry argued. "You died because I couldn't protect you," his voice grew louder.
"I know, but that wasn't your fault, and this isn't your job." Hermione locked eyes with him. "You need to go back to a normal life."
Harry's chest tightened. How was he supposed to explain that to him, his 'normal life' was preparing himself to save people? He almost had to acknowledge the urge to tell them, to explain that he felt it was his role in life to help.
"Quidditch starts on Saturday, we could go watch," Michael suggested.
"You hate Quidditch," Harry reminded him, silently thankful for the distraction from his thought process.
"True," Michael conceded. "But, I hate seeing you like this more."
Harry sighed, eyeing the hopeful looks of his friends. "Fine. We'll go watch Quidditch," he promised.
Hermione smiled, satisfied. "Did anyone tell you the news?" she asked everyone. When everyone present, bar Neville, shook their heads, she continued. "I talked to Professor McGonagall about classes. There's no rule about Ghosts being in classrooms while classes are happening."
"So, you're going to carry on with your lessons?" Padma asked.
"Well, no." Hermione flushed slightly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Ronald without getting either hysterical or furious. So, I'm going to follow the Ravenclaw timetable."
"Speaking of Ron." Neville's voice was strained and hard, with barely restrained anger. "He's coming this way."
All present on the table turned, confirming an embarrassed and sheepish Ron was nervously making his way over. The red-head's steps faltered when he realised all attention, and anger, was on him, but he showed his Gryffindor courage and continued to walk towards the group.
It took all of Harry's self control and mental discipline to not simply punch Ron as he approached.
Self control that Neville evidently did not possess.
Neville's fist lashed out, catching Ron by surprise in his cheek, sending the ginger to the floor.
Ron made no attempt to retaliate as Neville stood, catching his breath. "How dare you!" Neville shouted. "What gives you the right to march up here after what you did?"
"I know," Ron yelled back, making no effort to stand back up. "How do you think I feel?" He paused, gathering his thoughts amongst the glares. "Do you know what it's like growing up in a Wizarding family, and then being shown up by a Muggle-born? You feel like a bloody idiot. And I got mad." He resigned himself to the angry glares as he looked at Hermione for the first time. "I know it was my fault that you were in that bathroom," he confessed. "But it wasn't my fault that the troll was there," he grew more determined. "And I'm willing to bet the little I have that whatever reason the troll was here has something to do with the third floor."
Harry and Hermione stared at each other, having a silent conversation, finishing with Hermione sighing and shrugging. "Ron," Harry said to the downed Ron, "sit down with us."
Ron's face became shocked, but he stood up gratefully and sat next to Harry. "Now," Ron asked somewhat hesitantly, "what's the deal with the third floor."
And so, the group pitched in at various parts, explaining Harry's duel, the third floor, the Cerberus, and the Philosopher's Stone.
"So, Snape let the troll in right?" Ron asked. "He was on the third floor when you were duelling, and he was there when the troll was let in."
"We don't know who it is," Harry replied. "But, we want to stop them."
Ron nodded slowly. "I want in. If you'll let me." Ron looked at Hermione. "I need to make up for what I've done."
Harry and Hermione both looked at each other again. "Fine," Harry said. "We're meeting here everyday to brainstorm and learn. If you're serious, you can join us."
Ron joined the group, and for the next few days he joined the group in the library, treated somewhat apprehensively by the others.
Eventually, Saturday rolled round, signalling the start of Quidditch season. The weather had turned cold, turning the lake to a thick ice.
Harry, Padma and Michael made their way to the Ravenclaw portion of the viewing area, with Neville and Ron going to the Gryffindor section.
The Quidditch field was covered in a thin layer of frost which crunched as the two teams, Gryffindor and Slytherin, made their ways to the centre of the playing field where Madam Hooch was stood.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, from all of you," she said once both teams gathered around her, her voice amplified by her wand. "Mount your brooms, please," she asked, and both teams complied, mounting their brooms as one.
Madam Hooch's whistle blew loudly, and all players took flight into the air.
The commentator, Lee Jordan, spoke from the commentator's stand. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – an excellent Chaser she is, and a rather attractive one too –"
"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut Lee's off, who mumbled a half-hearted apology.
Harry zoned out the commentary, choosing to watch the game as the Slytherin Chaser sent the Quaffle to the goal posts, only for it to be blocked by the Gryffindor Keeper.
Angelina Johnson regained the Quaffle, hurtling towards the Slytherin side, throwing it with her might, and the crowd cheered loudly as she scored.
"Move along," a deep voice boomed, and the three Ravenclaws turned to see Hagrid approach. The three squeezed together, allowing Hagrid to sit with them. "Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting a large pair of binoculars that rested around his neck. "But it ain't the same as bein' in the crowd. How's it goin'?"
"Gryffindor is winning," replied Padma, the only one of the three actually paying full attention to the match. "Only by 10 points though, and it doesn't look like either Seek er has spotted the Snitch.
Lee's voice shouted loudly across the pitch. "Slytherin in possession, Chaser Pucey dodges two Bludgers –".
Harry stopped listening to the announcer as he watched the Slytherin Chaser avoid the two Bludgers, both of which swerved in the air, speeding towards Harry like cannonballs.
Harry stared, stunned, as the balls flew directly towards him, and he waited for them to turn as intended until he dived out of the way. The wood he was sitting on splintered as the black Bludgers crashed into it, sending splinters through the air.
The Bludgers retreated from the crumbled remains of the seat, zooming back towards the pitch, before regaining momentum and firing towards Harry.
However, now Harry knew what to expect, wand in hand he aimed and used one of the numerous spells he had learned from his extensive library time. "Bombarda," he shouted, thrusting his wand at the closest Bludger, which exploded with a loud bang and crashing of iron.
The surviving Bludger continued its path towards Harry, only to be caught in Hagrid's outstretched hands as it neared, who held it tightly until help arrived in the form of Madam Hooch, who deactivated the Bludger with a wave of her wand. The Bludger stopped struggling immediately, returning to a simple black orb.
Madam Hooch put her wand to her throat, her wand tip glowing silver. "This game of Quidditch will be postponed, on account of destruction and tampering of equipment," she announced, her voice carrying throughout the pitch.
The crowd booed loudly, but began to leave. "Right then," said Hagrid in confusion. "Back to me hut for a cuppa?" he offered, to the nods of the three Ravenclaws. The four made their way to Hagrid's hut, only stopping when they arrived.
Hagrid began to boil a big pot of water on his open fireplace. "So, what 'appened on the pitch?" Hagrid queried.
"The Bludger must have been tampered with," Padma replied. "They're supposed to go for players equally, and never go for audience members."
"Wonder who tampered with it?" Hagrid said.
"It must have been Professor Snape. Everything points to him being up to something with the Philosopher's Stone."
Hagrid sighed as he pulled the boiled water off the fire. "You know about that now then."
Harry nodded. "Once we found out about Flamel and Dumbledore's connection, it wasn't that hard to deduce. Although, we didn't know for sure until you just confirmed it," he admitted.
Hagrid mumbled angrily to himself. "Fine," he grumbled. "And what's this about Professor Snape?"
"We think it's him doing all of this," Padma said.
A knock at the door stopped her speaking and everybody paused as Hagrid opened revealing a worn out looking Ron and Neville.
"It was Snape," Ron panted. "He jinxed the Bludger."
"Convenient timing," Harry muttered to himself.
"Get in," Hagrid ordered. "Now, someone tell me what you're all goin' on about Professor Snape for."
Michael took a breath. "He was outside the third floor when Harry found Fluffy. And he was at the bathroom when the troll was here. He has it out for Harry as well, explaining why he'd jinx the Bludgers." He looked at Ron to continue.
"Ok," Ron started. "The Gryffindor seating area was opposite the staff area, and Snape was staring at the Bludgers and was cursing it under his breath."
"Rubbish," barked Hagrid. "Yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. Dumbledore knows what he's doin' and if he trusts Professor Snape, you should as well."
The five students left, grumbling about Professor Snape. But something wasn't adding up for Harry.