Disclaimer / I don't own anything

Chapter 17

The first thing that enters my mind when I wake up is Harry. Then I remember the Quidditch game, and how I have to play his position. I groan and roll over, trying to get back to sleep. The sunlight shining in through the window reminds me that I have to get up though. I sit up with a sigh, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I swing my legs over the bed and stand up. I look around the room and see Parvati and Lavender still asleep. Hermione is nowhere to be seen though. That's not unusual though, so I don't bother trying to find her. I try to keep quiet as I gather my Quidditch robes and head to the bathroom. When I emerge, the other girls are all awake, and Hermione has returned. I greet them good morning before descending to the common room. I find Dean and Seamus already down, so I chat with them until the other three come down. The six of us then head down to breakfast together. The Hall is buzzing with chatter, and Wood is sitting away from everyone. I give his friends a confused look.

"Told us not to disturb him," one of them says.

"Yeah, didn't want to risk any limbs," another adds.

I nod, eyeing the captain wearily. He certainly does look like he could harm anyone to come near him. Luckily, he doesn't acknowledge my presence though, so I don't worry too much about it. We choose a spot a little way down from him, then dig into breakfast. Well, everyone else does. I move my food around my plate, not eating anything. Hermione notices and gives me a look.

"Come on, a least eat some bacon," she chides.

I frown, knowing she's right. I reluctantly fork a piece and bring it to my mouth. The smell is too enticing, so eventually, I give in. I chew, then swallow. I suddenly realise how hungry I am. I end up eating almost as much as Ron, much to the amusement of the others. Finally, the time to head down to the Quidditch pitch comes, and when we get there I separate from the others to head to the dressing room. When I get there, Wood is pacing, and Katie and Alicia are getting ready. After a few minutes, we're joined by Fred, George and Angelina. Once we're ready, Wood faces us.

"Alright team. This is it. We all know the plan?" he asks.

We reluctantly nod.

"We can do this. In the end, though, it's up to you Isobel. You've got to get that Snitch," Wood says.

I nod, taking a deep breath. With everyone's eyes on me, I feel the pressure of the game weighing down on me more than ever. I try to keep a positive attitude though, mustering a small smile.

"We've got this," I say.

We head out onto the Quidditch pitch, taking our positions around Madame Hooch. Wood and the Ravenclaw Captain shake hands. I eye the opposing teams Seeker. A short girl with long dark hair, she looked quite confident, even though she only looks like a second-year.

"Mount your broom," Hooch calls.

I swing my leg over my broom, gripping the handle tightly.

"On my whistle," Hooch orders. "Three…two…one."

When I hear the whistle, I shoot off into the air, circling above everyone. I try to follow the path of the Snitch, but it flies off before I can. Wood's words from yesterday circle my mind.

"Our best chance is getting the Snitch early," he told me.

I try to focus on my task at hand. A few times when the Quaffle comes past I almost reach out to catch it, but then draw away at the last second, remembering my position. I silently cheer when we get a few goals in, pulling us ahead; forty to twenty. Our success doesn't last long though, and Ravenclaw even up with us. The game continues for a bit with neither team getting the upper hand. I keep trying to look for the Snitch, but I can't spot it. Luckily though, Ravenclaw's Seeker can't seem to find it either. About ten minutes into the game though, disaster strikes.

"Substitute Gryffindor Chaser Alicia Spinnet takes possession of the Quaffle," I hear Lee commentating. "Spinnet passes to Johnson, to Bell and back to Johnson. Johnson passes to Spinnet. Looks like a clear run."

I keep my ear out, still trying to look for the Snitch. Then suddenly, Lee swears into the microphone, earning himself a reprimand from McGonagall.

"Spinnet takes a hit from a passing bludger. She doesn't look too good," worry laces Lee's voice.

I groan, knowing that's not good for us. I chance a glance at Alicia. Lee's right. She doesn't look good. Her left shoulder is out of position and I see blood through her robes. Angelina hovers near her, asking her questions. Alicia shakes her head and flies off to take her position again. Angelina doesn't look happy. The game continues, but we fall behind. At one point, Alicia flies close enough to me that I hear her shouting at Angelina across the pitch.

"I'm fine!" she yells. "Pass the bloody Quaffle to me," she shouts in anger.

I can tell she's in pain, but she doesn't give up. The next time there's an opportunity, Angelina reluctantly passes the Quaffle to her. Alicia carries it up a bit before passing it off to Katie. I focus back on my game. Everything seems to be going alright, although we're still behind until Alicia suddenly slips off her broom. About thirty feet away from me, all I can do is watch in horror. She seems to fall in slow-motion as time slows down around me. Closer to her, I see the twins dive towards her. I hold my breath as Fred races beneath her. He reaches out as Alicia falls past him. Impossibly, he manages to grab her injured arm, stopping her fall. Alicia screams in pain as Fred's broom dips with the extra weight. George flies in next to her, taking her uninjured arm. With Fred's help, they manage to position Alicia behind George on his broom. He flies to the ground, Fred following him, watching Alicia's back. Madame Hooch pulls Alicia off George's broom. She blows her whistle, calling time out. I sigh with relief, flying down with the rest of the team. On the ground, Alicia is barely conscious as Madame Pomfrey struggles to support her. On the other side of the pitch, I spot McGonagall racing towards us, Lee at her heels.

"Is she okay?" Lee frantically asks.

"She will be," McGonagall reassures him as she waves her wand.

She orders one of the older students to take Alicia up to the Hospital Wing. She then forces Lee to return to commentating while Madame Hooch informs us time-out will be over in two-minutes. Wood huddles us up.

"Alright, we're down a player. But that doesn't matter. Johnson, Bell, keep the Quaffle off the Ravenclaws. Weasleys hits those bludgers like they're good behaviour. Potter. Get that Snitch."

Hooch calls out ten seconds. We break the huddle and mount our brooms. When she blows the whistle, I fly into the air with new determination. The rest of the players also seem to realise the intensity of the game. The Weasley's take Oliver's advice to heart, and the Ravenclaws only just manage to get out of the way in time. Katie and Angelina use this to their advantage by keeping the Quaffle out of their possession. Not having Alicia means they can't score as many goals, because that's normally my job, so they subbed Alicia into that position. They try their best though, and with a handy bludger, they manage to get a couple of goals in. The scores currently sit sixty to fifty in our favour. But before long, the opposing team can easily dodge the bludgers, and they pull way ahead of us. By now, every time I fly by Oliver, he yells at me to hurry up. I squint and strain my eyes in search of it. But I can't find it. When the score sits at sixty to one hundred, not in our favour, the Ravenclaw Seeker spots the snitch. I know my best chance is to follow her and try to pull ahead, so I speed after her. With the speed of the Nimbus Two Thousand on my side, I manage to pull up to right beside her. When I do, I can spot the golden blur, so I put on an extra surge of speed. I'm almost close enough to reach out when suddenly, I hear gasps from the crowd. Not a fraction too late, I spot a bludger coming directly for me. I only just manage to dive out of the way, but that gives a chance for the girl to pull ahead of me. She reaches out and closes her fist. Not a second later, she pulls to a stop, grinning from ear to ear.

"Cho Chang has caught the Snitch," Lee calls out, not sounding impressed. "Ravenclaw wins, two hundred and eighty to sixty."

Collective groans come from the Gryffindors. I feel terrible. Ravenclaws are cheering, and the Hufflepuffs are clapping. But the Slytherins are yelling and screaming with happiness. They've won the Cup. If I had managed to catch the Snitch, we could've won. I fly to the ground with the rest of the team, none of us looking particularly happy. Ever the good sportsman, Oliver shakes hands with the Ravenclaw Captain. Cho, the Seeker, comes up to me.

"Congratulations," I say weakly.

She gives me an apologetic smile.

"Thanks," she says. "I'm sorry about your brother. And your Chaser," she apologises.

I give her a small smile.

"Thanks," I say.

The rest of her team swarms around her, so I back away, returning to Oliver and the team.

"I'm so sorry guys," I apologise.

"Don't worry about it," Angelina says. "We'll do better next year."

Wood nods dejectedly.

"This is our best season so far team, we've done well," he says.

He's obviously upset, but he doesn't say anything, which I appreciate. The rest of the day is filled with the other houses cheering and Gryffindor sulking. I visit Harry along with Ron and Hermione but he remains the same. We attend dinner and try to ignore the Slytherin's gloatings. We go to bed glumly, waking up the next day to face much of the same. The last day of the term, Malfoy doesn't fail to pester the Gryffindors. Potions with him and his cronies are almost unbearable, especially with Snape's gloating face. When the last class finishes, there is a deafening cheer throughout the castle. The Weasley twins throw fireworks and charm random objects within the castle to fly around and occasionally spout songs and dance. The three of us relax in the common room then move out to the grounds and relax under a tree. Staring up at the sky in the shade, I find my eyelids dropping slightly, and soon enough, I fall into a peaceful sleep.

Meanwhile Dumbledore POV

After a little persuasion on my behalf, Poppy finally lets me in to see Harry. My heart aches when I see the young boy lying there, unconscious. Guilt tears at me. I put him there. I couldn't help him. I look among the various gifts left at Harry's bedside. I chuckle a little when I think about the toilet seat the Weasley twins tried to send Harry. Their antics remind me of James and Sirius in their days. Those boy's pranks would often cause mayhem and get them into trouble across the castle. Although not as spectacular, the young red-heads try their hardest. Unfortunately, they managed to come across the 'Marauders Map' created many years ago. Since then, they have managed to outsmart even Argus who knows almost every secret passage and shortcut there is. Of course, the boys never managed to find the eighth passage out of the castle, that only Headmasters and Headmistresses know about. There are also several rooms behind portraits and fake doors and walls they didn't come across. I hope to keep them unknown from the Weasley's to avoid further trouble, but only time will tell if they discover them. Harry shifting in his sleep brings me out of my thoughts. He continues shifting, so I move over to his side. He looks like he will wake up. Slowly, he does. His arms twitch a little, and he blinks a few times. I smile down at him to reassure him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," I say.

He stares at me. Then, like a lightbulb goes off in his head, he starts up.

"Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrel! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick –"

I raise my arms slightly in a reassuring gesture.

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," I inform Harry. "Quirrel does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I – "

"Harry, please relax, or Madame Pomfrey will have me thrown out," I say gently but firmly.

He swallows and looks around. Realization shines in his eyes when he notices the beds and medicine. His eyes eventually fall on the gifts on his bedside.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," I tell him, managing a bright smile. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

It really is a mystery how fast news seems to spread throughout the castle these days.

"I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat," I carry on, smiling a little. "No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madame Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very confiscated it."

"How long have I been here?" Harry asks.

"Three days. Your sister and Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried," I tell him.

"But sir, the Stone –"

"I see you are not to be distracted," I sigh. "Very well."

I clear my throat a little, hesitating slightly, but knowing he needs to understand.

"Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

I remember Isobel mentioning something about Miss Granger originally trying to go send a message to me, thinking I wasn't in the castle.

"I had already arrived back here when I came across Miss Granger," I partially lie to the boy. "No sooner had I reached London that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."

In truth, I had never actually left the castle, although I had intended to for a short while. But I had had my suspicions for a while about the four students and Isobel's behaviour recently made me think they were up to something. When Minerva told me about her discussion with them that afternoon, I made sure to be around just in case. Walking in on their conversation was no accident. However, Harry buys it.

"It was you," he says.

"I feared I might be too late," I say regretfully, truth finally filling my words.

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer –"

I flashback to when I found him, resisting the urge to shiver.

"Not the Stone, boy, you – the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had," my voice shakes a little. "As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Harry repeats. "But your friend – Nicolas Flamel –"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" I ask amused. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

The conversation took place yesterday, and although they were upset, the Flamels knew it had to happen.

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Harry's face changes to one of amazement. I smile.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life ar you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Instead of responding, Harry lay there. I hum an old song, waiting for the boy to say something.

"Sir?" he eventually asks. "I've been thinking…sir – even in the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who-"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry," I interrupt. "Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

I sigh, wishing I didn't have to answer.

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share…not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but it seemed to hurt him, so he stopped.

"Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know if you can tell me..things I want to know the truth about…"

"The truth." I sigh. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should, therefore, be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

I try not to regret my words as I say them.

"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

I sigh even deeper than before.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind, for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

Harry looks like he knows not to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mothers for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

I notice tears forming in his eyes, so I draw my interest to bird on the windowsill to allow him to dry them.

"And the invisibility cloak - do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it," I say, trying to hold the laughter from my voice. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape-"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him - Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What ?"

"Yes... " I recall the event. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."

Harry sits in thought, then,

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it, otherwise, they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes..."

I realise I'm getting off-topic.

"Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

I smile and pop the golden-brown bean into his mouth. I choke though when I taste it.

"Alas! Ear wax!"

Harry smiles a little, and I know he'll be alright. I leave the Hospital Wing feeling slightly better than I did upon entering it.

Isobel POV

It took a bit of convincing, but finally, Madame Pomfrey let us in to see Harry when we heard he was awake. Hermione was ready to fling her arms around him again, held herself back, knowing he's sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried-"

"The whole school's talking about it," says Ron. "What really happened?"

Harry tells us everything, and I listen with worry, gasping at certain points.

"So the Stone's gone?" Ron asks. "Flamel's just going to die ?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," says Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

I smile, thinking about the various occasions during our lessons Dumbledore would laugh and joke and dream.

"So what happened to you two?" Harry asks Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I got back all right," Hermione recounts. "I brought Ron round - that took a while - and we just got through the door when we met Dumbledore, McGonagall and Isobel. McGonagall took us here while Dumbledore went through to help you."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" Ron wonders. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione explodes, "if he did - I mean to say that's terrible - you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," Harry says thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," Ron says proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you - but the food'll be good."

The sinking feeling of loss drops in my stomach thinking about the Quidditch match, but at that moment, Madame Pomfrey bustles over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT!" she says firmly.

Reluctantly, the three of us leave, letting Harry finish healing. When the feast comes around, we almost worry that Harry won't make it. Finally, though, he enters, a hush following him as he does. Almost immediately though, everyone starts talking again. Harry slips over to us and I glare at the people that I can trying to get a look at him. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrives moments later. The babble dies away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore says cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully, your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts..."

I try to ignore the daunting feeling of going back to the Dursleys.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping breaks out from the Slytherin table. All the Gryffindors are crest-fallen, although we knew that would be the case.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore says. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room goes very still. The Slytherins' smiles fade a little.

"Ahem," starts Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...First - to Mr Ronald Weasley..."

Ron goes purple in the face.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers deafeningly. I hear Percy telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last, silence comes again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buries her face in her arms, and I catch the glint of tears on her face. Gryffindors up and down the table look infinitely happier.

"Third - to Mr Harry Potter... " Dumbledore continues. The room goes deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The Gryffindors burst with cheers, and I join in, figuring out we're tied with Slytherin. If only we had gotten even a point more.

Dumbledore raises his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore says, smiling widely. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore, award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom."

The explosion that occurs from the Gryffindor table would surely be heard from across the country. We stand up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappears under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. The look on Malfoy's face almost makes me feel sorry for Slytherin.

"Which means," Dumbledore calls over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He claps his hands. In an instant, the green hangings become scarlet and the silver become gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanishes and a towering Gryffindor lion takes its place. Snape shakes McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. The Head of House tries her best to hide her pride, but anyone who knew her could see her happiness. The night carries on, and I know it will be one I will never forget. The next day, our marks come out. Tot their great surprise, both Harry and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. After congratulating everyone else, I hesitantly open mine as everyone crowds around me. When I see my marks, I can't believe them. Herbology, Potions, History of Magic and Astronomy, I only just got better marks then Ron and Harry, but Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfigurations, I got better than Hermione. Everyone stares at me, then Hermione congratulates me.

"I also knew you were better than me," she says happily.

I blush a little.

"You still did much better at Herbology and Potions and History of Magic. And Astrology," I say, feeling embarrassed.

She just smiles. All too soon, our wardrobes are empty, trunks are packed and we're handed notes which warn us not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," says Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we boarded the Hogwarts Express talking and laughing as the countryside becomes greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as we speed past Muggle towns; pulling off our wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It takes quite a while for all of us to get off the platform. A wizened old guard up by the ticket barrier lett us go through the gate in twos and threes so we don't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," says Ron, "all of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," Harry says, "We'll need something to look forward to."

I had told them about what Dumbledore had told me, and he had been immensely relieved. He had hugged me, promising things would get better.

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potters!"

"Still famous," says Ron, grinning at us.

"Not where we're going, I promise you," I say.

We pass through the gateway together.

"There they are, Mom, there they are, look!"

It's Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she isn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "And Isobel Potter! Look, Mom! I can see-"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs Weasley smiles down at them.

"Busy year?" she asks.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?"

Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, still looking furious at the nerve of us, carrying an owl and a cat in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of us.

"You must be Harry and Isobel's family!" Mrs Weasley says.

"In a manner of speaking," spits Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, we haven't got all day."

He walked away.

We hang back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," says Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, we will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face.

An identical smile forms on my face as I realise what he's thinking.

"They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home," I say. "We're going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

I can't believe the first book is over already. Unfortunately, I'm going to take a little break from this story, but I promise I will continue with the Chamber of Secrets and the storyline will change slightly over the next few years and get more interesting and different to the original story. Meanwhile, I'm going to work on another story. It will be called something like Modern or New Generation HP. It's going to be about a whole new load of kids going into Hogwarts, about two or three generations after the trio. The story and kids are very loosely based on the Marauders, so you can hopefully imagine what it's going to be like. I hope you read it, and please leave any reviews you like. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I promise I will continue this story. Also, if you can, please follow my Instagram account. Details are in my bio. Thank you!