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Harry Potter/Granger and the Philosopher's Stone
In the next letter they received from home, neither Harry or Hermione were surprised to be heavily criticised by their parents for their sheer idiocy in going wandering away from a group when they were perfectly aware that a large troll was wandering around the corridors. However, both Alan and Jane understood why Harry had decided to do something so foolish- Hermione had decided to tell their parents the truth even if the teachers had to remain in the dark- and were thus prepared to excuse their children, even if Jane did threaten to ground Harry and Hermione when they got home for Christmas if something like that happened again.
As time passed, however, the new trio were relieved to see that the weather seemed to be the only negative thing about the situation at present. As winter approached, the mountains around the school quickly became frozen and an icy grey colour, while the lake that the first years had come to Hogwarts by rapidly became frozen; how the giant squid that lived in there coped with being cramped below the surface without its traditional freedom was something that puzzled Harry. He also noticed Hagrid defrosting some of the brooms on the Quidditch pitch, but generally ignored the icy conditions unless he had to practice; he didn't want to get any colder than he had to. Fortunately, the Quidditch uniforms, such as the gloves and robes, managed to keep him fairly warm during practice, but he still wished that he wasn't out there whenever enough of the team could spare the time; he was going to get a cold if this kept up for much longer.
It was at moments like these that Harry was grateful for both Ron and Hermione's presence. Not only was Hermione able to help him keep up with his homework, but Ron was also able to give him several useful pointers about understanding a game of Quidditch, and how he could best help his fellow players- besides just finding the snitch, of course- without actually breaking any rules of the game. He had also spent some time re-reading Quidditch Through the Ages, which actually proved more engaging than it had the first time around; then again, Harry did have a more personal interest in the topic now, so he supposed it was only to be expected.
The day before Harry's first Quidditch match found the three of them out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar; it was a spell for which she was showing a particular aptitude, a fact that was of no small relief to Harry and Ron. They briefly had a close call when Snape passed close by them in the courtyard, but Hermione managed to shove the jar into her pocket before the Potions Master could see it. Harry was just grateful that he'd decided not to bring Quidditch Through the Ages out to continue reading it; he wouldn't put it past Snape to make some rule about books just so he could take points off Gryffindor.
It was only after Snape walked past them that Harry noticed that Snape was limping slightly; he also noticed a few flecks of blood around the teacher's shoe, as well as traces of a damaged and badly ripped trouser leg.
There was no way that the damage to that leg had just happened because Snape had had some kind of accident with a nail…
"Oh my God…" Harry muttered to himself, as he turned back to look at Ron and Hermione, taking care to keep his voice down to prevent Snape overhearing them. "I think Snape tried to get past the dog!"
"What?" Ron said, staring at Harry incredulously. "Are you nuts? Why would anyone want to even go near that dog?"
"And what makes you say that, anyway?" Hermione asked, looking curiously at Harry. "Did you see something I didn't?"
Harry was about to ask how that could have happened- Hermione was just as observant as him, albeit in a more factual rather than deductive manner- but, recalling her turning away to avoid attracting Snape's attention, realized it wasn't totally unexpected.
"Yes, his leg was injured; it looked like something had tried to maul him or something like that," Harry explained, as the three of them leaned slightly closer to prevent anyone else overhearing them. "So, unless you think one of the other student's cats got a bit annoyed at him for some reason, the dog seems our best bet for explaining what did it."
"But why?" Ron said, jerking his thumb after Snape. "What could he want to go past that dog for?"
"Look, you remember how Harry and I thought that the dog was guarding something?" Hermione explained, as the three of them began to walk back towards the castle. "Well, when Hagrid took the two of us around Gringotts when we were getting money out of Harry's safe- it was our first time there, after all- he took something out of one of the vaults; all he told us was that it was Hogwarts business, and very secret. He also said that Hogwarts was probably the only place in the world that was safer than Gringotts for keeping something secret, and the attempted robbery on Gringotts- you know, the one where nothing was stolen- occurred shortly after the item was removed."
"So you're saying…" Ron said, eyes widening as inspiration struck him.
"Exactly," Harry said, nodding in agreement at his new friend. "That's what the dog's guarding."
Turning to look at the door that Snape had recently entered the castle by, his eyes narrowed. "So, either he was just checking on something that dangerous because he somehow finds the prospect of near-death somehow exciting, or that item is what Snape's after right now…"
He had no idea what the potions master was trying to accomplish by getting past that dog, but if Snape was trying to get what the dog was guarding for a good reason, Harry would eat his hat.
The next morning dawned with a bright sunny day, although it was significantly colder than Harry had been hoping; the robes would keep him warm when he was flying but he still would have preferred it if he'd had slightly better weather for his first time as Seeker. Even though he knew it was stupid, he couldn't shake the feeling that even this slight bad weather indicated that something would happen to him on the Quidditch field…
"Harry, eat something, will you?" Hermione hissed, picking a few pieces of bacon off the grills in the middle of the table and putting them on her brother's plate. "You need to keep your strength up!"
Harry just nodded grimly and tried to stomach the bacon; he couldn't stop the grisly feeling that he was going to throw up at any minute when he thought too much about what he would be doing in front of the entire school…
His stomach improved slightly as he walked down to the changing rooms at eleven, trying not to think about the fact that the entire school was outside watching the game as he and the other team members shrugged on their red Quidditch robes; Slytherin were going to be playing in green.
Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said.
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson; come to think of it, all three of the Gryffindor Chasers were women. Harry wondered if there was a reason for that, but decided it was probably just chance; he never understood people who claimed that they were better at a certain sport just because they were a certain gender.
"And women," Wood agreed, nodding apologetically at the Chasers in question before turning back to the rest of the team. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred whispered to Harry out of the corner of his mouth, "we were on the team last year."
"Shut up, you two," said Wood, glancing over at them harshly before turning back to look at the rest of the team. "Thanks to Harry, this is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glared at them all as if to say, 'Or else.'
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room, clutching his Nimbus in one hand, and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers. Glancing over at the stands, he was partly heartened to see a large banner flying above the Gryffindor seats, proclaiming POTTER FOR PRESIDENT, a lion below it and the paints flashing in various different colors; the flashing was most likely Hermione's work, although he wasn't sure who'd have drawn the lion on the banner.
"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch said from the middle of the field; she was serving as the referee for the game. As Wood shook hands with Marcus Flint, a burly sixth-year who looked part troll to Harry, Hooch looked critically at the Slytherin captain as though daring him to try something.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand, silently praying that he wouldn't screw this up now that the time to really prove himself had come…
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and, subsequently, fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor!" a voice said from one of the observation boxes. "What an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"
"JORDAN!" a voice called out over the current speaker.
A slight sigh, and then, "Sorry, Professor."
Glancing over at the commentary box, Harry smiled slightly as he noticed Lee Jordan, a friend of the twins, standing there with some kind of microphone in front of him. McGonagall was standing just behind him, looking critically at the young man as though concerned he'd say something he shouldn't.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve- back to Johnson and- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes- Flint flying like an eagle up there- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field an- OUCH- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes- she's really flying- dodges a speeding Bludger- the goal posts are ahead- come on, now, Angelina- Keeper Bletchley dives- misses- GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"
Hovering above the field, Harry sighed slightly as he did a celebratory loop-the-loop to express some kind of enthusiasm for the goal scored. He hated to admit it, but a part of him wished that he was just watching the game right now; he knew his role was important, but spotting one speck of gold in this field was remarkably hard, even with the relatively dull weather. Glancing around the field, he smiled slightly as he noticed Hagrid edge his way through the crowds to join Ron and Hermione in the stands; he was grateful that his first real wizard friend would be there to watch the match as well…
Then he saw something.
A flick of gold as something flew past the Slytherin Chaser's ear.
"Was that the Snitch?" Lee Jordan called over the microphone, but Harry didn't stop to think about it; he tightened his grip on his broom and charged downwards towards the gold flicker in question. The Slytherin Seeker- someone called Terrance Higgs, he vaguely recalled from the introductions- did his best, but Harry's broom was far faster… he was level with Higgs… he was overtaking him… he was closing on the snitch…
WHAM!
Marcus Flint had deliberately blocked Harry, sending the broom flying off-course as the snitch disappeared, amid an outraged roar from the Gryffindors. Harry vaguely heard a few more specific comments- Dean Thomas seemed to be yelling about a red card, much to Ron's confusion- but he was too busy trying to regain his balance and start looking around once more for the snitch.
Lee Jordan, from what Harry could hear, wasn't all that happy about it either; Harry would hardly have called him neutral at the best of times, but now he was finding it extremely difficult not to take sides.
"So- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"
"Jordan…" Professor McGonagall uttered warningly.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"
"JORDAN…" McGonagall said once more.
"All right, all right… Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
Watching it from the ground, Hermione wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One minute Harry was dodging a Bludger and continuing to scan for the Snitch, and then his broomstick suddenly shook as though it had become a bad-tempered horse. For a moment, Hermione wondered if this was some obscure Quidditch trick she didn't know about- was Harry feigning a lack of control to put the opposition off-guard?- but when he nearly fell off the broom completely, and only managed to maintain his grip at the last minute, she knew there was something wrong.
"It looks like he's lost control…" Ron said, in a puzzled, apprehensive tone as he stared at Harry's bucking broomstick. "But that's meant to be impossible…"
"Could something have happened when Flint rammed him?" Seamus Finnegan put in anxiously.
"Can't have done…" Hagrid muttered, staring in confusion at the broom through his binoculars. "No sixth year could have done that to a Nimbus Two Thousand; it'd take powerful dark magic ter do something like that ter a major broomstick…"
No… Hermione thought to herself, staring at her brother in horror. He can't die… he can't die… he can't survive the most powerful Dark Lord in history just to end up falling off a broomstick…
Distraught, she turned away from her jolting brother, trying to find something else to focus her attention on, and her eyes widened as she saw something in the Teacher's Box. Reaching over, she grabbed Hagrid's binoculars and held them to her eyes, nearly swearing as the view came into focus.
"What?" Ron asked, puzzled, as Hermione removed the binoculars with cold rage in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Snape," Hermione growled, much to Ron's surprise; he'd probably never have expected that Miss Know-it-all Hermione Granger would actually hate a teacher. "He's jinxing the broom; look."
Ron took the binoculars and glanced through them. He instantly saw what Hermione meant; in the Teacher's Box, Snape's eyes were fixed on Harry and he was muttering nonstop under his breath.
"Leave this to me," Hermione growled, pulling out her wand and dashing along towards the Box, running through the stands and trying to ignore the vague sight- visible only through the corner of her eye- of her brother's broom jerking around constantly as it rose higher and higher, with any attempt to pull him into another broom resulting in failure…
Finally, she reached the Teacher's Box. Diving under the benches before anyone could see her, she crawled over to Snape's position. Pulling out her wand, she whispered a few well-chosen words and instantly Snape's robes were on fire. Taken by surprise, the Potions Master leapt to his feet, knocking several of the other teachers off-balance, and- yes- Harry was flying steadily once again!
True, he was going rapidly downwards, but at least he was going down at a steady rate; he must just want to get closer to the ground…
Then he clapped both hands to his mouth as though he was about to be sick. He reached the ground- he leapt off the broom- he coughed into his hands- and something gold emerged from his mouth.
"I've got the snitch!" he yelled, holding the gold ball above his head, amid cheers from the majority of the stadium; baring the Slytherins, nobody had wanted to see that house win.
An hour or so later, the three of them were walking with Hagrid back to his hut, the three Gryffindors still reveling in their house victory. True, Flint had tried to have Harry disqualified on the grounds that he had nearly eaten the snitch rather than caught it, but nothing changed the facts; no rules had been broken, and Gryffindor had won the match, a hundred and seventy points to sixty (Flint had scored five times while everyone was distracted by Harry's predicament).
"It was Snape," Hermione explained, as the four of them walked back to the hut. "He was jinxing the broomstick; he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," Hagrid said; evidently, he hadn't heard what Ron and Hermione had been talking about earlier in the stands. "Why would Snape be doing something like that?"
For a moment, the three friends looked at each other as they tried to decide what to tell Hagrid, but Harry eventually settled on the truth.
"Well… we think he's trying to get past that three-headed dog in the forbidden corridor," he explained, looking at Hagrid as he tried to work out his friend's reaction to the revelation. "We think he's after whatever the dog's guarding."
Hagrid stopped walking and stared incredulously at the three students.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked.
"Fluffy?" Ron said incredulously.
"Yeah, he's mine," Hagrid explained, apparently ignorant of the main reason for Ron's shock; why had he called a pet that resembled the mythical guardian of the Greek underworld something like Fluffy? "Bought him off a Greek chappie a few years back, and leant him ter Dumbledore to guard the-"
"The what?" Harry asked.
"Shouldn't have told yer that," Hagrid grunted, as he turned away and continued to walk back towards his hut. "That's top secret, that is."
"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Hermione yelled as she hurried after Hagrid, closely followed by her brother and Ron. "Why would he try and kill Harry if Harry wasn't a danger to him?"
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said, staring back at Hermione in frustration. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try and kill a student! Now listen to me, all three of you, you're meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. It's dangerous! What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel-"
"Oh, there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?" Hermione asked, looking at Hagrid with her typical 'sweet' expression that she often used when trying to find something out.
It didn't work; Hagrid just looked furious with himself before turning around and stomping off back to his hut, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione staring after him, a growing suspicion dawning in their minds.
Who was Nicholas Flamel…?