Everyone began returning to Hogwarts a day or two before the start of the new semester, and Mary rather missed the quiet of the holiday common room. Regardless, it was nice to see everybody, and she looked forward to filling Hermione in on all she and Ron had learned during the break. Hermione was horrified that they roamed the castle at night, after all, but the invisibility cloak and Mirror of Erised piqued her interest. Mary hadn't used the cloak since that one night with the mirror, but she and Ron then joked about all the pranks they could pull on Malfoy while invisible, and ceased that line of talk when they saw Hermione wasn't having any of it. "But you learned more about your family, Mary! You could trace your genealogy and try to find relatives you haven't met, yet!"

"Maybe," Mary agreed. "But don't you think they'd have tried to find me? You've said that I'm in a bunch of books, so they should know where I am, right about now."

Hermione bit her lip and said, "Good point. That was daft of me."

"Yeah, but it's okay. I don't even know how I feel about it, so we can forget it, for now."

"Agreed!" Hermione turned to Ron and asked, "What did you see in the mirror?"

He blushed and deflected, asking Hermione about what she and her family did with their time together over Christmas.

Oliver returned from his holidays with renewed vigor and worked the team harder than ever. Mary accused him of choosing practice times when he knew it would be raining, but no inclement weather could dampen his spirits.

"All well and good for a madman," said Angelina, one night after practice. "They don't feel like normal people."

Mary and the Chasers, soaked through and shivering, stood in the showers for longer than usual, trying to warm up.

Before heading back to their common room, Oliver shared some bad news with the team.

"Snape is going to be reffing our match with Hufflepuff."

"NO!" they all shouted at once.

"Since when has he ever reffed a match?" George spluttered. "He's going to hand the game to Hufflepuff!"

"Right," said Oliver. "So I need you to be on your best behavior. No pranks, no pratfalls. He will look for any reason to penalize us."

"But why is he going to be there?" Katie demanded. "What happened to Madam Hooch?"

"In case you've all forgotten," said Oliver, "someone tried to knock Mary off her broom at our first match. All of the professors are going to be there, even Dumbledore."

They all visibly relaxed, so Oliver brought his hands together in a thunderous clap.

"NO! Don't take that as a reason to relax! He's there to keep us safe; not to make sure the game is fair! Even if he can keep it technically fair, you know Snape is going to take every opportunity to penalize us, so don't mess up!"

On that cheerful note, they headed back to Gryffindor tower. Mary found Ron and Hermione bent over a table, playing a game of mundane chess. Ron always won, but Hermione gave him a challenge, which Mary thought was good for the both of them.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron, when she sat down next to him. "I need to concen –" He caught sight of her continence and asked, "Mary, what's wrong? You look terrible."

Soon, the whole common room knew what to expect at the next match. In the two months that Hermione had been their friend, she did recognize the marked difference in Snape's regard for Mary, versus the likes of Ron or Neville.

"Don't play," she said at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg!" Ron insisted. "Madam Pomfrey will have you up and walking by the end of the day!"

"I can't," said Mary. "We don't have a reserve Seeker. If I back out, we forfeit."

The gloomy din of the common room was broken by Neville hopping through the portrait hole and toppling onto the nearest couch.

Half the room broke into laughter, one student hurriedly squawking, "Sorry! Sorry – I'm sorry! It isn't funny, he…just looks ridiculous."

A thwack resonated, and someone else said, "Anyone would look ridiculous in a leg-locker curse!"

"You all right, Neville?" another called.

"Are you hurt?"

Hermione was the first to act, performing the counter-curse and kneeling to assess him for damage. "Is anything broken? Do we need to take you to the hospital wing?"

Neville shook is head, stretching his shaky limbs and sitting upright.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy," he mumbled. "He caught me outside the library…said he'd been looking for someone practice on."

How he'd managed to get from the library back to the tower was anyone's guess, but Mary figured that sheer force of will must be his qualifying factor for Gryffindor.

"We need to go to Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, rising to her feet. "We'll report him immediately."

"No!" cried Neville. "I don't want more trouble!"

"You can't let him get away with treating you like this," said Mary. "You need to stand up to him!"

"I know I'm a coward," Neville choked out. "Malfoy's already rubbed that in my face."

"You're worth ten of Malfoy, mate," said Ron, handing Neville the last chocolate frog from his Christmas stash.

"Right," said Mary. "Who's the one who can't walk anywhere without a goon squad? If anyone's a coward, it's him!"

"Thanks guys," Neville said with a weak smile. "I think I'm feeling a little better." As he unwrapped the chocolate frog, he said to Hermione, "I still don't want to report him to Professor McGonagall."

"It's okay, Neville," she said.

"Thank you. I think I'll go to bed. Um, I already have this card…would any of you like it?"

He handed the card to Mary and left the common room. Mary looked down and smiled.

"Dumbledore again," she said. "He was the first one I ever…oh!"

"What?" Ron and Hermione both asked.

She grinned. "You remember when Hagrid mentioned Nicholas Flamel? I knew the name sounded familiar."

She showed them the card, and Hermione sprinted up to the girls' dormitory.

"What on Earth…" said Ron.

A group of upperclassmen glared after Hermione as she came dashing back into the common room with a battered copy of some textbook in her arms.

"I checked this out of the library for some supplementary reading for History of Magic," she said, dropping the book open in front of them, "and came across this passage before the winter holidays. I knew there was a reason Nicolas Flamel sounded familiar. How could I forget so quickly?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ron mused, eyeing the large tome. "It couldn't have anything to do with information overload."

Hermione waved him off. "Anyway, Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

This did get Ron's attention. "He actually made one?"

"Yes, centuries ago! So this wouldn't really be newsworthy," Hermione said, excited to enjoy the information with her friends. She read, "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)."

Ron whistled.

"Noted alchemist and opera lover," Mary read from over her shoulder, wrinkling her nose. "To each their own, I guess."

"You're both hopeless!" Hermione cried, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"So that's what they're guarding in the castle, then," said Mary. A little more quietly, she told them, "I saw Snape storming around with some scary-looking academics, the night Ron and I found the mirror. Whoever they're hiding it from must be really dangerous."

"They broke into Gringotts and escaped without getting caught," said Ron. "We know that they're dangerous. The good news is, so is Fluffy."


As the match against Hufflepuff drew nearer, Mary became increasingly anxious about it. Unlike the nerves preceding her first match, this one had her wondering if her life might truly be in peril. It didn't help that Snape was even more callous towards Mary in Potions, as though agitating her further would make her throw the match. She decided that he was the one trying to get her killed, and in some twisted way, that made her fear him less.

Word of the unorthodox quidditch referee reached the Academy circles, and students in Mary's self-defense class tried giving her pointers. She hadn't trained with any weapons yet, so one student-instructor took time out to show her how to use a dagger.

"This feels…"

"Macabre, I know," said the older student. "But in a pinch, your wand can be versatile. It won't deal the sort of damage steel would, but it can still stun, injure, and otherwise hurt."

"Are daggers really made out of steel?" Mary asked.

The student's eyes lit up and he called a few classmates over to talk metallurgy and athames – ceremonial knives that advanced mages might use instead of a wand. They sounded more practical in a duel, for their precision, rather their ability to pierce solid matter. Wantonly drawing blood with an athame could have unpredictable consequences, and taking a life would corrupt the blade, entirely.

Mary didn't learn much practical application from class, that day, but she shared the information for her friends' amusement, meeting them after their flying lesson. Slytherin was still paired with Gryffindor, so Ron and Neville were always in dire need of a pick-me-up following the class. Hermione suggested they visit Hagrid, and the four of them spent the rest of the afternoon helping him remove vegetation from the cockatrice habitat, before warmer weather brought them back out onto the grounds. The company and activity helped Mary calm her nerves and clear her head, if only for a moment.

The day of the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match dawned dark and stormy.

"Forget Snape," Mary muttered to Ron and Hermione. "The world is trying to kill me."

"This is an advantage, though, isn't it?" Ron asked over breakfast. "You've all drilled in weather like this, so Hufflepuff won't stand a chance!"

"Hey, why don't you say that a little louder?" Oliver hissed.

Ron ducked his head and looked at Mary. "Touchy, isn't he?"

"Touchy?" Mary scoffed. "He's actually in a good mood, this morning."

"Coffee!" Alicia called from down the table, pitifully stretching a hand outward. "Pass it!"

"You actually drink this stuff?" Ron asked, handing it down.

"You drink Earl Gray," said Hermione.

"Because it's good!"

Gryffindor's first years spent the rest of breakfast arguing over who was going to die of poor dietary decisions, except for Mary, who listened and forced herself to eat a good breakfast. The nonsensical argument was what she needed to distract her from impending doom.

After breakfast, Oliver led the team to a classroom to discuss last-minute strategies, and grilled the Weasleys on rules. They recited every single one, including obscure rules that rarely applied to minor league matches.

"We do to know them, Oliver," George assured him.

"How else could we know which ones to break when the occasion calls for it?" Fred asked, earning him a glower from Oliver and the Chasers.

"We'll be fine," said Mary. She had the least authority to say so, but as the one most affected by the previous match, she hoped it would help. "Even if Snape throws every penalty at us, we are the stronger team, today. You made sure of that, Oliver."

That did it. He didn't smile, but he relented.

At game time, each team lined up behind their Captains and Snape gave them some final words before telling the Captains to shake hands. Mary looked at the stands and thought the stadium was more packed than usual. Despite the weather, a good percentage of every House showed up, and she was certain there were more Academy students.

"Take care, you lot," said a Hufflepuff Chaser. Mary thought her name was Heidi. "We did some drills this morning, and it's extra windy up there!"

Unlike the previous match, everyone stepped forward and shook their Hufflepuff counterpart's hand, wishing them a safe match. For the first time since the start of the semester, Mary felt perfectly safe from any potential attack.

Snape blew the whistle, released the Snitch, and the game was on.

"And they're off, Hufflepuff Chaser Macavoy taking early possession," came a woman's voice from the announcer's booth. Madam Hooch was commentating with Lee Jordan, as an added level of security. Everyone knew her sharp eyes rarely missed anything.

Despite this match being cleaner than their first, it was far more brutal in tactical application. Hufflepuff's strategy was superior to Slytherin's, and Snape did call every penalty that he could feasibly catch. While it only benefited Hufflepuff, the frequent pauses began to annoy them as much as Gryffindor.

"Are you kidding me!" shouted their Seeker, after one particularly petty call.

Mary winced, fearing Snape might have heard him, but the wind covered his outburst.

She checked the scoreboard and continued to scan the field. They were only ahead by one point, so she needed to make sure Hufflepuff wasn't in possession of the Quaffle if she caught sight of the Snitch. As close as they were, her opponent would do his best to prevent her from going after if it, unless he was sure they could secure another goal.

Unlike Snape, the elements favored neither team. Wind funneled around the stadium, and flashes of lightning could cause temporary blindness when focusing in the wrong direction at the wrong time. Mary wanted to know why they didn't have better protection from all weather, since lightning shields were a given, but Oliver's maniacal grin showed her how much he enjoyed the rules as they stood.

Hours crawled by, and Mary was soaked to the bone. She could barely see anything through the sheets of rain, and only glimpsed the Snitch when it reflected lightning. Hufflepuff's Seeker also saw it then, so they jockeyed for position and lost sight of the flittering ball each time. Their frustration grew with each miss, and they both roared their discontent when the Snitch disappeared.

Suddenly, it was an arm's length behind Snape. Mary knew she'd come up short, this time, if this push turned into a race. She made an obvious show of surprise and feinted ninety degrees in the opposite direction. Hufflepuff's Seeker took off, and Mary made a hairpin turn towards Snape. The willowy Potions professor cringed as Mary swerved around him. The Snitch lurched from its position and Mary caught it against her sternum. That would leave a mark. The ball was wet and slippery, but she held it fast over her hand in victory.

"Rickett!" the Captain bellowed and the Seeker cursed, a roll of thunder covering his language.

On the ground, he stormed up to Mary. Internally, Mary was panicking, but she stood her ground. She tilted her chin to look into his eyes, six inches above her own. He was clearly furious, but then he burst out laughing.

"You sneaky little blighter!" he barked, and tousled her wet hair. In the weirdest show of competitive spirit that Mary had experienced to date, he gave her a quick hug and joined Hufflepuff as they left the field.

Watching them leave, Mary caught Snape's eye. He glared and spat on the ground. Tempting fate, she gave him a smug grin, then joined her own team in celebration.


Mary, Ron, Hermione, and Neville gathered in Hagrid's hut for their ceremonial cup of tea and serenity. They were all soaked through, Hagrid included, but Ron and Neville were also sporting noticeable bruises on their faces.

"I punched him!" Ron said proudly. "Malfoy was being a nasty little git, and I punched him!"

"And you, Neville?" Mary asked.

Neville looked into his cup and blushed. "I tried to pull Malfoy off of Ron. He elbowed me in the face," he touched a bruise that was spreading over his eye, "so I grabbed the back of his robes and threw him into the aisle." Then he smiled. "I didn't know I was that strong."

Ron clapped him on the back, and Mary asked, "Where were Crabbe and Goyle?"

It was Hermione's turn to smile. "Watching the game. That's when you saw the Snitch, and they were yelling for lightning to strike you."

Mary laughed and told them what the game was like from the air. When she finished, Neville thanked Hagrid for the tea and left for Gryffindor tower.

"Malfoy's going to keep his distance, from now on," said Ron, proudly, accepting another cup of tea from Hagrid. "Try any curses on Neville again, I dare him."

"You'd all be in detention now, if that had happened anywhere else," said Hermione.

"And it wouldn't have happened anywhere else, because Malfoy's a coward!" Ron countered.

"How are you all feeling?" Mary asked. "I'm warmer, now, so I'm fine if you want to cool the hut down, Hagrid."

He looked away from the trio and said, "I…really can't cool it down in here, right now."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "Is there something wrong with your fireplace or…"

They all looked at the fireplace and saw an odd shape in the embers.

Hermione drew closer and gasped. "Hagrid, is that a dragon's egg?"

Ron dropped his biscuit and rushed to kneel by the flames. "Bloody hell, Hagrid. Do you have a license for this thing?"

"Now, now," said Hagrid, raising his hands. "This was sudden. Someone down at the pub had it and needed to get it off his hands before it froze to death."

Ron snorted. "More likely before he got caught. Hagrid, what are you going to do with it? You could get into so much trouble for this."

Hagrid sighed. "To be honest, I've been in a bit of a panic trying to figure that out."

"Why?" Mary asked. "Sorry, I don't know anything about dragons. I mean, it's going to get big, but they don't hatch the size of a house, so you have time, right?"

"Dragon handlers need to be licensed," said Ron. "Charlie studied for years to get his, plus special permits."

Hermione was nodding. "It was terribly selfish of whoever gave this to you. Anyone can tell after talking five minutes with you that you love animals."

"That's compassionate of you, Hermione," said Hagrid. "But I got myself into this mess, and I gotta get myself out of it before–"

There was a popping sound, and the egg rolled out of the fireplace. Without thinking, Mary put a hand out to stop it before it could crash into anything. She pulled her red palm back with a hiss, and Hagrid immediately had cool water to pour over her hand.

"Here," he said, placing a clay pot on the ground. "Rub this into your skin. I use it all the time for handling blast-ended skrewts."

Whatever those were, Mary never wanted to touch one. She gently dried her hand and applied the salve. To her surprise, the sting subsided and her hand stopped burning.

"It won't save you from the itching when your skin starts repairing," Hagrid told her, "but use some more of that and cover your hand before you go to bed, and the dead layer will start falling off in the morning."

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said, gratefully.

"Don't thank me for something that shouldn't've happened."

Mary felt a bump on her knee as the egg continued rocking. The shell didn't feel as hot, so she carefully draped her robe over both hands and steadied the egg.

Hagrid looked around his hut for anything that would make for a good nest. In no time, he had a large basket on the table with small ceramic orbs layered on the bottom. Hermione placed thick towels over the orbs, and Mary handed Hagrid the egg. He bundled it into the basket, and placed it near the fireplace. They were all watching it, expectantly.

"This part takes a while," Hagrid informed them. "I don't expect the little guy to emerge until after-hours."

Even Hermione looked a little disappointed, but they took that as a gentle dismissal.

"You know," said Ron. "You don't need to handle this alone. I can write to Charlie, and he should be able to to arrange something."

"NO!" both Mary and Hagrid cried.

Mary wasn't sure why the thought of telling Charlie about the egg filled her with dread, but something told her it was a terrible idea.

"I mean," said Hagrid. "I can't risk getting any of you into trouble."

Hermione nodded. "That's fair, but Ron is your best chance. You won't even need to bother Dumbledore about this."

Ron cocked his head to the side. "Why would we need to talk to Dumbledore?"

That idea made Mary's heart hammer.

"Because he's the Headmaster and he should know what's going on here," Hermione insisted, "but he's already got his hands full with the Philosopher's Stone."

"And how on Earth do you lot know about that?" Hagrid demanded.

Mary bit her lip to stop from grinning too widely. "Um…well, it was kind of in the paper, already, right? And then you mentioned Nicholas Flamel, and he's on a chocolate frog card with Professor Dumbledore…" she stole a brief glance at Hagrid's bewildered face and looked back down at the towels covering the dragon's egg.

"And I read about him in a History assignment," Hermione finished for her.

After a moment of silence, Hagrid threw his hands up and laughed.

"You three are nothing but trouble, I swear it!"