Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own.
Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.
When Serena returned from her holidays the day before term began, he told her about the mirror and his nightmares. They sat on one of moving staircases to talk, since everyone else was in their house common rooms. As he finished his story, Serena chewed on her thumbnail.
"That mirror sounds... creepy." She admitted. "But I wish I'd had the chance to see it. It may not be useful, but it would be nice to see, just once..."
"Well, I don't think we'll be seeing it again." Harry told her and she nodded in agreement.
The staircase swung around again, connecting with a loud click against the one heading to Gryffindor tower. Serena stood up, straightened her blazer and jerked her head towards the tower.
"Come on, let's go see Thomas and Phoebe." She tugged him up by the hand and they hurried to get to the common room before any other staircase changed on a whim.
"I'm sorry we didn't get you anything for Christmas." Harry muttered, remembering her own gift of candy to him. Serena just laughed.
"Boys never remember."
"Phoebe didn't either!" Harry reminded her, eager to defend himself and Thomas.
"Phoebe's... Phoebe." Serena shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I didn't give you guys gifts in hopes of something in return. I just wanted to get you guys stuff." She explained. Harry flushed at her words and she giggled, jogging ahead to get through the portrait hole.
Quidditch practice began once more and Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasley twins complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.
Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the twins, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
"Will you stop messing around!" He yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"
George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words, sending a shower of mud spraying upwards as he landed in a gigantic puddle.
"Snape's refereeing?" He spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too. Loudly.
"It's not my fault. We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us." Wood told them. Which was all very well, Harry thought, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch...
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found his three friends. Serena was sketching in her sketchbook while Thomas and Phoebe cursed at each other over another wizard's chess game. Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told them about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
"Don't play, Harry. You'll just get hurt." Serena begged at once.
"Say you're ill." Thomas told him.
"Go to one of the other teachers." Serena suggested.
"Pretend to break your leg." Phoebe advised.
"Really get ill. I have ways to make you puke so much-." Thomas started.
"Really break your leg. I can help." Phoebe said in a sinister tone. Harry scooted away from her.
"I can't do any of that." He told them. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."
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.
All the other students in the common room fell over laughing at him, but Thomas grabbed his wand and preformed the counter-curse for him. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling and looking ready to cry. Phoebe abandoned her seat to drag him over to them and shove him down in it.
"Who did this?" She demanded and Harry was very suddenly reminded of interrogators on the old cop dramas Aunt Petunia watched.
"Malfoy." Neville admitted shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."
"You should report him." Serena told him, slamming her sketchbook closed against her knee.
"I don't want more trouble." He mumbled.
"You've got to stand up to him, Neville! He's used to being the wolf. Stop being his chicken."
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that." Neville choked out.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Serena had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.
"You're worth twelve of Malfoy." Harry assured him. "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 was the first one I ever-." He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at the others. "I've found him! 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!"
He had barely finished reading the card before Thomas was snatching it out of his hands and running out the portrait hole. Harry, Serena and Phoebe looked at each other in confusion. Thomas returned a second later, looking annoyed.
"Follow me." The others scrambled to their feet and raced after him.
Thomas led them to their library, where he innocently presented the card to Madam Pince and asked who Nicholas Flamel was. The librarian took down a book, flipped open to a page and presented it to them before returning to her dusting. The four of them gathered closely to read over reach others shoulders.
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).
"That monster of a dog-." Thomas started.
"Fluffy." Serena reminded them, only to be shushed by Phoebe and Harry.
"-must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! If Flamel would trust anyone to guard it, he'd trust his friend. Dumbledore."
"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying! No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it." Harry whispered.
"I want it. Can we steal it?" Phoebe asked honestly.
"Find what you were looking for?" Madam Pince appeared on the other side of the able and they all looked up.
"Yes, thank you!" They gave her their best smiles and hurried back to Gryffindor tower.
The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Phoebe were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Phoebe said she'd buy a catapult to put Snape in that Harry remembered about Snape's involvement in the coming match.
"I'm going to play." He told the others. "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 with a mop." Serena hissed, chewing on her thumbnail.
As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told his friends. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, as no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?
Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own.
Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could. Yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that his friends were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. Mostly because Phoebe and Thomas were discussing flowers to buy for his funeral until Serena got a bit hystical again and beat them about the heads and shoulders with her fur mittens. None of this was what you'd call comforting.
Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand. Wood pulled him aside.
"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."
"The whole school's out there!" Fred Weasley announced, peering out of the door. "Even, blimey, Dumbledore's come to watch!" Harry's heart did a somersault.
"Dumbledore?" He echoed, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard. Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. H was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.
Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that people in the stands noticed too.
"Who peed in his cereal?" Phoebe muttered.
"Phoebe." Serena seemed exasperated.
"Ow!" Thomas cried as a wand jabbed him in the back of the head.
"Oh, sorry, Malfoy, didn't see you there." Malfoy grinned broadly, with Crabbe and Goyle by his side like always. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Black?" No one answered.
Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Serena, who had 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?" Malfoy spoke 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."
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.
"Longbottom, if brains were morals, you'd be even worse than Black and that's saying something."
"Hey!" Phoebe spun around, eyes blazing. Thomas turned his head too, his own eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Look at Harry!" Serena cried, pointing wildly. Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Serena stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.
"Take that back!" Neville stammered in defense of Phoebe.
"Or what?" Malfoy challenged.
"FOR NARNIA!" Thomas shouted and, before Malfoy knew what was happening, Thomas was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.
"AND FOR ASLAN!" Phoebe screamed and jumped on Crabbe's back. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.
"Come on, Harry! Get it! Get it!" Serena screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape.
She didn't even notice Malfoy and Thomas rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Phoebe, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches. The next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand. The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.
Serena shrieked Harry's name in a sort of chant as Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it. The game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped. Then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.
"Well done." Dumbledore spoke quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... Been keeping busy... Excellent..."
Snape spat bitterly on the ground.
Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now. No one could say he was just a famous name any more.
The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; his friends in the distance, jumping up and down. Thomas cheering through a heavy nosebleed, Phoebe cradling a very bruised and bleeding hand.
Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead... He'd done it, he'd shown Snape...
And speaking of Snape... A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner...
Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed. The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree. He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.
Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.
"D-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."
"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private." Snape said, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."
Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
"B-b-but Severus, I-."
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." Snape threatened, taking a step toward him.
"I-I don't know what you-."
"You know perfectly well what I mean." An owl hooted loudly and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say: "-your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."
"B-but I d-d-don't-."
"Very well." Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."
He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.
"Harry, where have you been?" Serena squeaked as he entered the castle once more. "We won! You won! We won!" She hugged him tightly, a giant Cheshire cat smile on her face.
Thomas and Phoebe were doing the Macarena dance behind her, chanting:
"We got in a fight, we got in a fight."
"Stop that!" Serena protested, huffing and folding her arms. The dancing stopped and the two came hurrying over.
"I gave Malfoy a black eye, Phoebe almost broke her hand and Neville tried to take on Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomftey says he'll be all right... eventually." Thomas reported excitedly.
"Everyone's waiting for you in the common room. There's a party." Phoebe added, doing another little dance. "Fred and George stole food from the kitchens." She added with a tone of admiration for her older friends.
"Never mind that now." Harry told them breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this..."
They hurried to an empty classroom, any excitement replaced with weariness at Harry's urgent tone. He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.
"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 pocus;. 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, what you're saying is... the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Phoebe asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief. Serena buried her face in her hands and Thomas nodded glumly, like a man accepting his death sentence.
"It'll be gone by next Tuesday."