Ron: Hey Harry, were we supposed to be doing something over the holidays?
Harry: I'm sure it was nothing.
Hermione: Hey guys, I'm back. Did you find out anything about Nicolas Flamel?
Harry: Oh, that's right. Wait, you were gone?
Hermione: You didn't notice I was gone all Christmas holidays?
Ron: There was a distinct lack of refusing the existence of magic for the last couple of weeks.
Harry: Well, while you were apparently gone, I found a mirror that shows you what you want by sneaking around after hours and didn't even get in trouble for it despite being caught by Dumbledore.
Hermione: What? How?
Harry: Because he's a senile old moron.
Hermione: That's…depressingly accurate.
Oliver: Harry, come on. We've got Quidditch practice.
Harry: Wood, this is the twelfth session this week. And it's only Monday. Seriously, our next opponent is Hufflepuff. What's the problem?
Oliver: Well for one, they have that Seeker…what's his name? Cedory Diggric? Also, Snape's umpiring.
Harry: First of all, not until 1993. Second of all WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! He's going to be flying around with that leg injury?
Oliver: What leg injury?
Harry: Well, you see… *Neville hops into the Common Room* Oh good, a distraction. We'll continue this never.
Neville: Little help? Malfoy used the Leg-Locker Curse on me.
Hermione: Hold on.
Ron: We're about to see her explain how the Leg-Locker Curse works *Hermione pulls Neville's legs apart with her bare hands* or do that.
Harry: You okay Neville?
Neville: I should be.
Harry: Here, have a Chocolate Frog.
Neville: Is that one of the ones that has been hopping around Gryffindor Tower since Christmas?
Harry: *eye twitch* No.
Neville: Awesome *grabs it* Do you want the card?
Harry: Why would I want that?
Neville: Plot advancement.
Harry: How can a Chocolate Frog card possibly…hey, I found Nicolas Flamel.
Hermione: What? How?
Harry: Apparently Dumbledore and Flamel worked together in alchemy.
Ron: No wonder I don't remember seeing it. The only cards I've ever gotten are you. Well, actually I get other ones all the time. I just trade them away.
Harry: So what now?
Hermione: Hold on, I think I remember reading something *leaves, comes back with a giant book*
Ron: You didn't read that whole thing over the holidays did you?
Hermione: Don't be ridiculous Ron. I only finished three quarters of it. Now, where was it…ah, here it is. Nicolas Flamel is the creator of the Philosopher's Stone.
Ron: You actually read his name and didn't think that maybe you'd found the guy?
Harry: Oh God, that's awful.
Hermione: Why, what's wrong?
Harry: He's using human souls to create anything out of nothing.
Hermione: I think you might be mixing references. The Philosopher's Stone can turn any metal into gold, and create the Elixir of Life.
Harry: Oh God, he's drinking human souls.
Hermione: Lay off the FMA Harry. Now, it says here that Nicolas Flamel is six hundred and sixty five years old as of last year...
Ron: Of course they wouldn't let Rowling put his true age in a children's book.
Hermione: And it explains why we couldn't find anything about him. We were looking for modern wizards, not fossils.
Harry: So, this Philosopher's Stone, probably the thing Fluffy's guarding right?
Hermione: Most likely.
Harry: And Snape's trying to get it?
Ron: Yep.
Harry: We'll need to stop him. Can you imagine Snape with the power to rival Gods?
Hermione: Seriously Harry, stop. That series doesn't exist yet.
*the day of the Quidditch match*
Harry: Okay guys, today I destroy Hufflepuff.
Ron: Are you sure you want to? I mean, with Snape refereeing, and he did try to kill you last time…
Harry: I'll be fine. How hard can it be to cast a spell while flying a broom?
Ron: Fred and George manage just fine. Sometimes while deflecting a Bludger.
Harry: Well shit.
*in the changing rooms before the match*
Oliver: Alright guys, do your best to clean a nice clean game so Snape has no reason to penalise us. And remember, the entire school is out there watching us. Every. Single. Person. Including Dumbledore. But no pressure.
Angelina: Really?
Alicia: Yep. Though I think he just got lost looking for the bathroom again.
Harry: Great, way to mount the pressure. Why can't drinking be legal?
Oliver: Alright guys, let's go *leads team onto the pitch*
*in the stands*
Neville: Hey guys, I saved you some seats. Ron, why have you got your wand out?
Ron: Well, we ARE watching Harry play…
Neville: Put it away. That's indecent exposure.
Ron: Sorry *zips up*
Draco: Hey guys, look. It's fatass, ginger and…ugly. I'll think of something better for you later.
Hermione: Charming. If you don't mind we'll be ignoring you, so you might as well tell your father about that now so you don't forget it.
Draco: How dare you pre-empt my line. I'm gonna tell my father about this.
Neville: Guys, the game started.
Ron: And as expected, Snape has already given a free to Hufflepuff.
Draco: Yeah, he wants to correct the mistake of last game.
Ron: Malfoy, you say one more word, and I'll…
Draco: One more word.
*moment of silence, then Ron attacks Draco. Crabbe, Goyle, and Neville stare in shock, then jump into the fray too*
Hermione: *completely focused on the game* Ooh, did you see that Ron? Snape had no choice to give Katie that free *silence except for the fight behind her* That shocking, eh Ron? Don't blame you. Hey, Harry's diving awful steeply. He just nearly knocked Snape off his broom…wait, he's pulling up…HE DID IT! HE CAUGHT THE SNITCH! Wow, that didn't take long, did it Ron? *Ron has taken his seat again, beaten up* What the hell did I miss?
*out on the field*
Snape: Potter, you nearly killed me. Ten points off Gryffindor.
Harry: That's okay, I've got a hundred and forty to spare.
*Snape glares at him*
Dumbledore: Good work Harry.
Harry: Thanks Professor.
Dumbledore: Though to be honest, I can't remember why I am congratulating you.
Harry: Of course you don't.
*after the game*
Harry: Well, I just solidified my awesomeness by being faster than anyone...let's hope that reputation doesn't stick. Anyway, I guess all I have to do now is *sees a hooded figure heading towards the Forbidden Forest* is that Snape? *gets on broom, flies quietly behind him, before crashing into a tree* Ahh, damn it. Well, at least trees don't hit back. Now, where's…there he is. Oh, and Quirrell.
Quirrell: S-S-Severus, what do you w-w-want with me?
Snape: The truth. Tell me, have you figured out how to get past that dog yet?
Quirrell: W-W-Why would I know th-th-that?
Snape: Don't play dumb. I know you can't help it, but try. You wouldn't want me as an enemy, wouldn't you Quirinus?
Quirrell: H-h-how did you know my first name?
Snape: Pottermore. Now, I would like to know what you're doing about Potter, after…
*owls comes up and screeches at Harry, causing him to fall off the branch. He manages to hold on with one hand*
Snape: …curse failed. Well?
Quirrell: I…
Snape: Will do exactly as you say forever and ever. Why think you Quirinius.
*they both leave. Harry is still hanging in the tree*
Harry: Well, I appear to be in quite a predicament *owl starts pecking his fingers* Oh, screw YOUUUUUUUUUU! *thud*
*later, in the Common Room*
Hermione: Harry, where have you been?
Harry: Eavesdropping on Snape threatening Quirrell to help him get the stone.
Ron: Pretty sure that's more of a hindrance than help.
Harry: Not unless Quirrell's a snack for Fluffy.
Ron: Well, the stone's screwed.