CHAPTER FOUR: DISCOVERIES TOWARDS THE TRUTH

Life at Hogwarts seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, Christmas holidays had arrived. This meant that Hogwarts was practically empty. However, I was really looking forward to Christmas for it would be my first one Dursley free. McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and I signed up at once. To my delight, the Weasleys were staying too since Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit their second oldest son, Charlie.

Up until the Christmas holidays, Ron, Hermione and I spent every spare moment searching the library for information on Nicolas Flamel, but had had not luck. This was frustrating, especially since I knew that I had read his name somewhere before, but I couldn't remember where. We even tried to coax it out of Hagrid for even a tiny hint, but he surprisingly wouldn't budge. Then, when the holidays were about to begin, Hermione left after making Ron and I promise that we would continue to look for Flamel. Somehow, I got the feeling that Ron and I would never end up doing as we promised; and I was right.

Once the holidays had started, Ron and I were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. We had the dormitory to ourselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so we were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. We sat by the fire eating anything we could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, and marshmallows - and we plotting ways of getting Draco expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work. Ron also started teaching me wizard chess. I was surprised to discover that it was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned it had once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

I played with chessmen Seamus had lent me, and they didn't trust me at all. Not that I could blame them. I was dreadful at chess, Muggle or otherwise. I didn't have the patience to sit there and plan a route of attack. Instead I just told them to go to the first spot that came to mind after them confusing me by shouting out different bits of advice. So it was no surprise when Ron won every game we played. However, the more we played, the better I got… but that didn't stop me sucking at the game still. It had no excitement for me compared to exploding snap.

On Christmas Eve, I went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When I woke early in the morning, however, the first thing I saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of my bed. I had to pinch myself.

'Merry Christmas,' said Ron sleepily as I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown.

'You, too,' I said, still looking at the presents. 'Will you look at this? I've got some presents!'

'What did you expect, turnips?' said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than mine. I hadn't told Ron that I never got many presents from the Dursleys. If you could call Uncle Vernon's old yellow socks a present or a coat hanger.

I picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. I blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl. A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

'That's friendly,' I said. It was the best present yet.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

'Weird!' he said, 'What a shape! This is money?'

'You can keep it.' I laugh at how pleased Ron was. 'Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?'

'I think I know who that one's from,' said Ron, turning a bit red and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. 'My mum. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no,' he groaned as I tore open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. 'She's made you a Weasley sweater. Every year she makes us a sweater,' Ron unwrapped his own, 'and mine's always maroon.'

'That's really nice of her,' I said, trying the fudge, which was delicious. I was very touched that she had gone to all that trouble just for me. A kid that she barely even knew.

My next present also contained candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. Then came the big mystery. I had three presents with no signature telling me who they were from. The first present contained my very own Quidditch Through the Ages and more sweets. The second was some brand new clothes that actually fitted me. Then there was the last one. I picked it up and felt it. It was very light compared to my other presents. I unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery grey went slithering to the floor where it laid in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

'Something wrong?' I asked, picking up the silvery cloth. . It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

'I've heard of those,' he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavour Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. 'If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable.'

'What is it?'

'It's an invisibility cloak,' said Ron, a look of awe on his face. 'I'm sure it is - try it on.'

Feeling a bit foolish, I threw the cloak around my shoulders and Ron gave a yell, starling me slightly.

'It is! Look down!'

I did as he said and looked down at my feet, but they were gone. Upon seeing this, I dashed to a nearby mirror and sure enough, my body completely invisible leaving only my head floating in mid-air. I pulled the cloak over my head and me reflection vanished completely.

'There's a note!' said Ron suddenly. 'A note fell out of it!'

I quickly pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing I had never seen before were the following words: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you. There was no signature.

I stared at the note while Ron was admiring the cloak.

'I'd give anything for one of these,' he said. 'Anything. What's the matter?'

'Nothing.'

I felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak along with the other gifts? Had it really once belonged to my father? Before I could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. I stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet. However, I got the feeling that Fred and George had seen what I had done, even if they didn't say anything about it.

'Merry Christmas!'

'Hey, look - Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!'

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. The only thing was, Fred was wearing the G and George was wearing the F. AS if people didn't have a hard enough time telling them apart as it was.

'Harry's is better than ours, though,' said Fred, holding up my sweater. 'She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family.'

'Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?' George demanded. 'Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm.'

'I hate maroon,' Ron moaned half-heartedly as he pulled it over his head.

'You haven't got a letter on yours,' George observed. 'I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge.'

I couldn't help but laugh at that comment. Fred winked at me as Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which George seized.

'P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one.'

'I - don't – want,' said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

'And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either,' said George. 'Christmas is a time for family.'

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater. I sadly looked away. It was times like these that I had a loving family with little brothers or sisters. But as I thought about it, I sort of did have a brothers and a sister. Wasn't Fred, George and Ron like older brothers to me? And wasn't Hermione close enough to be an older sister? Or at least, they were slowly starting to feel that way, though I wasn't sure if I would be able to tell them my biggest secret yet, I didn't want them thinking that I was weird and abandon me.

-THE UNMASKED MYSTERY-

I had never in all my life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favours were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. I pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. It then took Fred along time to stop laughing at my reaction to it. I nearly ended up falling off my chair and would have too if Percy hadn't caught me. I swear I nearly wet myself with fright. That was the last thing I had expected it to do.

Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him and McGonagall.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. I made extra sure to stab my pudding carefully after that.

During dinner, I enjoyed watching the teachers being so care free. I watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine. I watched as Dumbledore and McGonagall sat there laughing and was shocked when Dumbledore kissed McGonagall on the finally the cheek, who giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. However, what surprised me most was I swore I saw Snape trying not to laugh numerous times.

When I finally left the table, I was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and my very own new wizard chess set. Though after one game with it I knew that it probably wouldn't look new ever again. The white mice had disappeared and I had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs Norris's Christmas dinner.

The Weasleys and I then spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, we returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where I broke in my new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. No surprise there, though I strongly suspected that I wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help me so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, Ron and I felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge. It was actually quite entertaining for everyone, except for Percy.

It had been my best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of my mind all day: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

I sat there in the dark wondering who could have sent me the gifts and the cloak, as I listened to Ron's snores. I leaned over the side of my bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. My father's... this had been my father's. I let the material flow over my hands. It was smoother than silk and as light as air. Use it well, the note had said. I had to try it, now. I slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around myself. Looking down at my legs, I saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, I felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to me in this cloak. Excitement flooded through me as he stood there in the dark. I could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know. With this in mind I crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole. I didn't bother waking Ron. One, because I would have more success getting a hug from Snape than waking him and two… this was my father's and I wanted to use it by myself for the first time.

I ended up silently creeping to the library. The Restricted Section in the library to be more precise. Why did I go there of all places? Simple. I'd be able to read as long as I liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. The library was pitch-black and very eerie. I didn't bother lighting a lamp. I had always been able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it was because my cupboard was very dark when I didn't have the lights on. That or I'd been eating a lot of carrots.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, I began to browse the titles of each book. They didn't tell me much. Their peeling faded gold letters spelled words in languages I couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. Some books I could even hear a faint whispering was coming from them. In the end, I randomly picked a book. A large black and silver volume caught my eye. I pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on my knee, let it fall open. Bad idea. A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence - the book was screaming! I immediately snapped it shut, but unfortunately the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, ear-splitting note. To make matters worse, I then heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming towards me from the corridor outside. Panicking, I stuffed the shrieking book back on the shelf and ran for it. My feet were barely making any noise of the stone floor and I slipped past filch and sprinted up the corridor.

I eventually came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armour. I had been too preoccupied with getting away from the library; I hadn't paid any attention to where I was actually going going.

'You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section.'

I felt the blood drain from my face. Wherever I was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to my horror, it was Snape who replied, 'The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them.'

I stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see me, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into me - the cloak didn't stop me from being solid. I backed away silently and slipped through a door stood ajar to my left. They walked straight past, and I leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before I noticed anything about the room I had hidden in. It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Intrigued, I took off my cloak and stepped in front of it. I then had to clap his hands to my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I whirled around. My heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for I had seen not only myself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind me. But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, I turned slowly back to the mirror. There I was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind me, were at least ten others. I looked over my shoulder - but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

I looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind my reflection was smiling at me and waving. I cautiously reached out a hand and felt the air behind me. If she was really there, I'd touch her, our reflections were so close together, but I felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror. She was a very pretty woman, I thought. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine. Bright green - exactly the same shape, but then I noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, handsome, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He I looked similar to me. It then hit me.

'Mum?' I breathed. 'Dad?'

They just looked at me, smiling.

I then began to take in the rest of my family. Next to my father was a man that looked identical to him, except he parted his hair to the opposite side. My father had a twin! And not only that. He had an older brother! Standing next to James' twin was another man who had similarities to his little brothers. I had more uncles! That then made me frown. Were these uncles still alive? And if so, did they want anything to do with me? Is that why they never contacted me and the reason I was only finding out now that I had other family? Did they hate me because I survived Voldemort's attack and not their brother?

With these depressing thoughts in mind, I turned my attention to the people standing behind them. My jaw dropped. Standing behind them was none other than McGonagall and Dumbledore. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Why were they in the mirror unless… unless they were related to me. That would explain McGonagall's behaviour towards me and why the rules were bent for me to play Quidditch and she gave me the Nimbus Two Thousand free of charge.

How long he stood there, I didn't know. The reflections did not fade and I looked and looked until a distant noise brought me back to my senses. I couldn't stay here; I had to find my way back to bed. I tore my eyes away from my mother's face, whispered, 'I'll come back,' and hurried from the room.

'You could have woken me up,' said Ron, crossly after I had just recounted my adventure to him.

'You can come tonight, I'm going back, and I want to show you the mirror.'

'I'd like to see your mom and dad,' Ron said eagerly.

'And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone.'

'You can see them any old time. Just come round my house this summer. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Though I have to admit, Dumbledore and McGonagall being in the mirror is a big mystery. Maybe you should ask them.'

'No way.' I said immediately.

'Why not?'

'Firstly, I would have to explain how I found the mirror in the first place and secondly, don't you think that they would have told me if we were directly related? That or they don't want me to know. No. It's best if I pretend that I didn't see them in the mirror.'

-THE UNMASKED MYSTERY-

What I feared most was that I might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, we had to walk much more slowly the next night. We tried retracing my route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

'I'm freezing,' said Ron. 'Let's forget it and go back.'

'No!' I hissed. 'I know it's here somewhere.'

We passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, I spotted the suit of armour.

'It's here - just here - yes!'

We pushed the door open. I immediately dropped the cloak from around my shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. My mother and father beamed at the sight of me. If only I could see them doing that in person.

'See?' I whispered to Ron, not taking my eyes away from my father's face.

'I can't see anything.'

'Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them...'

'I can only see you.'

'Look in it properly, go on. Stand where I am.'

I stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, I couldn't see my family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pyjamas. Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

'Look at me!' he said.

'Can you see all your family standing around you?'

'No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm head boy!'

'Huh?'

'I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup - I'm Quidditch captain, too.'

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at me.

'Do you think this mirror shows the future?'

'How can it? As far as I know, all my family are dead - let me have another look –'

'You had it to yourself all last night; give me a bit more time.'

'You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? It's only a piece of metal and wood. I want to see my parents.'

'Don't push me –'

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to our discussion. We hadn't realised how loudly we had been arguing.

'Quick!'

Ron threw the cloak back over us as the luminous eyes of Mrs Norris came round the door. Ron and I stood quite still, both thinking the same thing - did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

'This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on.'

And Ron pulled me out of the room. I reluctantly allowed him too.

'Want to play chess, Harry?' Ron asked the next morning as I stared thoughtfully in to the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

'No.'

'Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?'

'No... You go...'

'I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight.'

'Why not?'

'I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs Norris are all wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?'

'You sound like Hermione.'

'I'm serious, Harry, don't go.'

I ended up ignoring Ron's advised, though that wasn't a major surprise. I desperately wanted to see my parents again and I couldn't see anything wrong with that. After all, this was the first time in ten years I had seen them. The last being when I was one, but I had no memory of those times. Hence, no one was going to stop me from seeing what was unfairly taken from me.

That night I found my way more quickly than before. And there was my mother and father smiling at me again, and the rest of my family smiling down at me. I sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop me from staying here all night with me family. Nothing at all. Except -

'So - back again, Harry?'

I felt as though my insides had turned to ice. I looked behind me. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Dumbledore. I must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror I hadn't noticed him.

'I - I didn't see you, sir.'

'Strange how near-sighted being invisible can make you,' said Dumbledore, and I was relieved, get slightly confused, to see that he was smiling.

'So,' said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with me, which surprised me, 'you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.'

'I didn't know it was called that, Sir.'

'But I expect you've realised by now what it does?'

'It - well - it shows me my family –' I looked at him closely to see if he would react to what I had just said, but he didn't. He said nothing about whether we were related or not.

'And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy.'

'How did you know -?'

'I don't need a cloak to become invisible,' said Dumbledore gently. 'Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?'

I shook my head.

'Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?'

'So it shows us what we want... whatever we want...'

'Yes and no,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?'

I stood up as did Dumbledore.

'Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?'

'Obviously, you've just done so,' Dumbledore smiled. 'You may ask me one more thing, however.'

'What do you see when you look in the mirror?'

'I see your father alive and well.' Dumbledore said quietly. His expression was suddenly sad.

'Why?'

'Harry, there is no use beating about the bush for the answer you seek.' Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. All his boys use to do that a first to, until they mastered the technique of subtlety weeding what they wanted out of people. 'You are wondering why you see myself and Professor McGonagall in the mirror, don't you?'

'Yes.' I didn't see any point in denying it. 'So we are related?'

'Yes. I'm your father's father, hence your grandfather. Professor McGonagall is your grandfather, my wife.'

My eyes widened. Dumbledore and McGonagall were my grandparents. I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. I was also worried and confused. So I asked Dumbledore, my grandfather, another question.

'Why didn't you ever contact me?' I asked quietly. 'Didn't you want me? Do you hate me because I survived and Dad died? Am I just a waste of space?' I was having trouble stopping the tears that had begun to fall. Didn't any of my family love me? Were they all like the Dursleys?

'No, that's not it at all, Harry!' Grandfather said gently, pulling me into a loving embrace as I began to cry. 'Your grandmother and I love you very much! It pained us to stay out of your life! We wanted very much to raise you, but we knew it would be safer for you with your mum's sister and husband.'

'Why?'

'You were Voldemort's downfall. Hence, one of his followers may have been seeking revenge. And we knew that the Muggle world would be the last place they would ever search for you.'

'Were you ever going to tell?'

'We were planning on telling you at the end of the year.' admitted Grandfather, lightly pulling me away and wiping away my tears. 'Come. I'll walk you back to your dormitory.'

-THE UNMASKED MYSTERY-

As my grandfather wanted, I didn't go looking for the Mirror again, nor did I reveal my true heritage to Ron. Grandfather had asked that our family remained secret for my own safety and other reasons of which he did not share. Thankfully, Ron never asked about Grandfather and Grandmother being in the mirror. In all honesty, I knew that he had forgotten all about them.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of me being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that I hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. We had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though I positive that I had read the name somewhere.

Once term had started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. I had even less time than the others, because Quidditch practice had started again. Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. I often wondered if anything would. The Weasley twins complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but I was secretly on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years.

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 Weasleys, 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. Thankfully, the ground was close at hand and he wasn't hurt.

'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 us then landed next to George to complain, too.

'It's not my fault,' said Wood. 'We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us.'

Which was all very well, I thought, but I had another reason for not wanting Snape near me while I was playing Quidditch...

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but I headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where I found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Ron and I thought was very good for her.

'Don't talk to me for a moment,' said Ron when I sat down next to him, 'I need to concen –' He caught sight of my worried face. 'What's the matter with you? You look terrible.'

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, I told the others about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

'Don't play,' said Hermione at once.

'Say you're ill,' said Ron.

'Pretend to break your leg,' Hermione suggested.

'Really break your leg,' said Ron.

'I can't,' I said. 'There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all. Besides, Madam Pomfrey would fix my leg in a heartbeat.'

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 we recognised at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione – and myself -, who leapt up and performed the counter curse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

'What happened?' Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with us.

'Malfoy,' said Neville shakily. 'I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on.'

'Go to Professor McGonagall!' Hermione urged Neville. 'Report him!'

Neville shook his head.

'I don't want more trouble,' he mumbled.

'You've got to stand up to him, Neville!' said Ron. 'He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.'

'There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that,' Neville choked out.

I felt in the pocket of my robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box my Uncle Severus had given me for Christmas. On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Grandfather had told me that it was Uncle Severus who had given me the book and sweets, while the cloak and clothes were from him and Grandmother.

'You're worth twelve of Malfoy,' I said, handing him the chocolate frog. '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.

'Besides, everyone is brave in their own way and everyone is scared of something.'

'Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?'

As Neville walked away, I looked at the Famous Wizard card.

'Gr -Dumbledore again,' I said, hoping Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed my slight slip up. 'He was the first one I ever-'

I gasped and stared at the back of the card. Then I looked up at the concerned Ron and Hermione.

'I've found him!' I whispered. '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"!'

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

'Stay there!' she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Ron and I barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

'I never thought to look in here!' she whispered excitedly. 'I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.'

'Light?' said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. At last she found what she was looking for.

'I knew it! I knew it!'

'Are we allowed to speak yet?' said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him. Not that like that was surprising.

'Nicolas Flamel,' she whispered dramatically, 'is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!'

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

'The what?' Ron and I asked in unison.

'Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look - read that, there.'

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher'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 Philosopher'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).

'See?' said Hermione, when Ron and I had finished. 'The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!'

'A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!' I said. 'No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it.'

'And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry,' said Ron. 'He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?'

'You can say that again.' I snorted, before coming serious once more. 'I'm going to play in the upcoming game against Hufflepuff. 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,' said Hermione.

As the match drew nearer, however, I became more and more nervous, regardless of what I kept telling Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team weren't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would we be allowed to, with such a biased referee? I didn't know whether I was imagining it or not, but I seemed to keep running into Snape wherever I went. At times, I even wondered whether Snape was following me, trying to catch me on my own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to me. Well, more than usual. Could Snape possibly know my friends and I had found out about the Philosopher's Stone? I didn't see how he could - yet I got the feeling that Snape could read minds.

-THE UNMASKED MYSTERY-

I knew that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see me alive again when they wished me good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. In fact, it made me even more nervous. As a result, hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as I pulled on my Quidditch robes and picked up my Nimbus Two Thousand, before Wood took me aside.

'Don't want to pressure you, Harry, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favour Hufflepuff too much.'

'The whole school's out there!' said Fred, peering out of the door. 'Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!'

My heart did a somersault as I dashed to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard. I could have laughed out loud with relief. I was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt me if Grandfather was watching. I vaguely wondered if that was why Snape was looking angry as the teams marched onto the field. I made sure to hide slightly behind the Weasley twins as Snape spoke to us briefly and the moment he blew his whistle, I was straight in the air, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

As the chasers fought to get the Quaffle into the hoops, I began to scan the field for the snitch. Wood wanted a quick game, so I'd give him one. Despite the fact that I had to wear glasses (according to Uncle Vernon I had some sort of problem with my eyes), I had very sharp eyes and was usually able to take in things that others would normally miss. Then, not even five minutes into the game, I spotted the snitch and automatically went into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. I ignored them and continued streaked toward the ground like a bullet. My eyes never leaving the small golden ball. I end up speeding straight at Snape, who had flown in my way, not that I was going to stop for him. He'd just have to move. Luckily, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, I had pulled out of the dive, my arm raised in triumph with the Snitch clasped in my hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly; the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. I knew that Wood would be happy.

I jumped off my broom, a foot from the ground as Gryffindors came spilling onto the field. A short distance away I saw Snape land, white-faced and tight-lipped - then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into Grandfather's smiling face.

'Well done,' Grandfather said quietly, so that only I could hear. 'Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent...'

I could hear the proudness in his voice, and I couldn't help but beam back. To know that my family was proud of me meant so much.

-THE UNMASKED MYSTERY-

I left the locker room alone some time later, to take my Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broom shed. I couldn't ever remember feeling happier. I'd really done something to be proud of now - no one could say I was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. I walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in my head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift me onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed, though I had no idea how that happened.

Upon reaching the shed, I leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor was in the lead. I'd done it, I'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. My victory faded from my mind as I watched. I instantly recognised the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner - what was going on? It was the troll incident all over again.

Curious as to what my disliked potion master was up to, I jumped back on my Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle I saw Snape enter the forest at a run. I, of course, followed. However, the trees were so thick I couldn't see where Snape had gone. I flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until I heard voices. I glided toward them and landed silently in a towering beech tree. I climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to my broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. I couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. I 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's voice was ice cold. 'Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all.'

Quirrell was mumbling something, but 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 took a threatening step toward him.

'I-I don't know what you…'

'You know perfectly well what I mean.'

An owl hooted loudly, and I nearly fell out of the tree with fright. I quickly steadied myself 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?' Hermione squeaked.

'We won! You won! We won!' shouted Ron, thumping me on the back. 'And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens.'

'Never mind that now,' I said breathlessly, only momentarily wondering when Neville and Ron had taken on Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. 'Let's find an empty room; you wait 'til you hear this...'

I made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, and then I told them what I'd seen and heard.

'So we were right, it is the Philosopher'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 you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?' said Hermione in alarm.

'It'll be gone by next Tuesday,' Ron said seriously.


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Written: 2 March 2012
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