HP & The Sorcerers' Stone

Harry

The Holidays ended and the school once again got crowded. Harry had gotten up early to greet all his friends, Fred and George at his side. When he told them about how he had given up the cloak to Charles for the rest of the year, the reaction was pretty much as he'd expected.

"Are you mental?!" burst out Jéricho.

Harry just shrugged. "Maybe."

"Why would you do that? It's so useful!" Adrian whined.

"I can still take it whenever I want." Harry reminded him. "It's just... well, I just thought I'd give it to him because he's seemed a bit off this year... you know, to cheer him up."

Cedric rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible when it comes to your brother, you know that, right?"

"I think it's sweet of you, Harry." Sera just smiled and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush red.  

"Yeah, well, anyway... has anyone any idea what to do with Nicolas Flamel?"

"What about him?" Cedric frowned.

"We know where it is, so we can sell this information for a price." Adrian mused. "Or try to keep it for ourselves."

"A true Slytherin-" Fred snorted.

"-Albeit a stupid one." George rolled his eyes. 

"We're just third years. I think we'll fail spectacularly if we try to steal it." Sera agreed.

"I meant whether we should Charles and Lyra about it." Harry interfered.

Sera rounded on him. "Why would you even entertain such a ludicrous idea?"

"They're always up to something." Cedric nodded. "Not wise to tell them."

"Hermione's smart, and so are Daphne and Lyra." Adrian shrugged. "They'll find out themselves."

"I've caught Charles and Ron sneaking out and hovering by the library at night already." Harry insisted. "They won't let it go."

"You gave them the cloak, though, didn't you?" Sera narrowed her eyes.

"I put an alarm in their room." Harry sheepishly admitted. "Just in case..."

Jéricho laughed. "Your protectiveness is bordering on obsession, mate."

Fred nodded. "If Charles finds out, he'll either be embarrassed and hate you-"

"-Or ridicule you for life." George finished.

"I know." Harry muttered.

Sera sighed. "Don't worry so much about him, Harry. He can take care of himself."

"And what's life without a challenge?" Adrian asked with a smirk.

"I agree." Jéricho grinned. "Let them do some work."

Charles

It was now two weeks after the Holiday had ended, and they had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Charles was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. The Slytherins joined them sometimes, but Lyra was usually busy because Quidditch practice had started again.

Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin captains were working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen their spirits, and the Weasley twins complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, while Lyra moaned about her ice-cold hands for fifteen minutes. Harry, doing twice the work on the field as others, was as much a fanatic as Wood, though. He belived they should be training every waking hour. 

Then, one breakfast Harry came fuming into the hall and plopped into the bench next to Charles, angrily ripping off a toast. Fred and George followed after him, equally as angry, but less dramatic.

"What happened?" Ron asked through a mouthful of bacon.

"Snape's refereeing this time," Fred muttered.

"Wood told us this morning," George confirmed.

Harry growled. "He'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

Ron knocked his pumpkin juice while Hermione coughed and swallowed her food.

"Snape's refereeing?" Charles spluttered in shock. "When's he never refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair at all."

The rest of the team showed up and started to complain, too.

Wood sighed. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

At that moment Neville toppled into the hall. 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 there.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leaped up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with them.

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

"He's a git." Charles soothed. "Don't worry about him."

"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!" Harry frowned. "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.

Charles handed Neville a toast and a glass of juice, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Charles said. "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, Charles... guys... I think I'll go to class early..." 

As Neville walked away, Charles felt in his pocket and took out a chocolate frog card - the last one of the pack Hermione had given him - and after eating it, looked at the Famous Wizard card. He collected like Ron, though he had far less.

"Dumbledore again," he said. Then he gasped, staring at the back of the card. "I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before - 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'!"

Harry and the twins groaned, and Ron scowled over at them. They knew and still let them work in the library all the time! Meanwhile, 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.

"Come with me!" she sprinted out the hall. Charles and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before they stood up to follow after her. On his way out, however, Charles signalled to Lyra and the others to join them.

Lyra

As soon as Charles signaled her, Lyra stood up with Daphne and Blaise. Theo was sick and in the hospital, as he was a boy with a weak immune system. He had given up the search, and told them that he didn't want to continue wasting his time on a pointless 'adventure'.

Draco saw the exchange and sneered. "Consorting with filth now, are you?"

"Oh, shove off." Lyra snapped back. They dashed out and just caught Charles disappearing 'round a corridor.

In the library, after they'd all sat down at a table in the back, Hermione appeared with 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?" Ron muttered, but Hermione shushed him and started flicking frantically through the pages. At last, she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" Ron asked him grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

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

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

Lyra, Daphne, and Blaise gasped. Charles and Ron, however, just stared blankly. "The what?"

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look - read that, there." She pushed the book toward them, and it read:

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).

"See?" Hermione said, "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer'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!" said Ron. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"Like Quirrell." Daphne put in.

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

Harry

As the match drew nearer, Harry became more and more agitated. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of such a biased referee was horrifying.

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. Potion lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture. Usually, Harry was able to hold up his own, but he was trying to keep his head and not get any detentions so that he could not be made to miss Quidditch practices. It was getting more and more difficult, though. 

Harry had ranted to his heart's content to his godfather, who was currently in Busan. He also wrote to his mum and dad complaining, but not as much, as he didn't want them to come to Hogwarts to have a go at Snape. He was still a sore subject with his mum; she hated how he treated her boys. And James and Snape hated each other. Sirius being out of the country made sure that there was nothing drastic he could do instead of giving Harry advice and comfort, and making pathetic barbs and stories on how to kill the man and hide his body, which were always amusing.

On the day of the match, Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

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

Harry's heart somersaulted. "Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud. There was simply no way that Snape would dare do anything if Dumbledore was watching. Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field.

Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George hit a Bludger at him. Harry circled the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch as quickly as possible.

And then he spotted it. Cedric was still oblivious, even though he was closer. Harry decided to take the risk. He suddenly went into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. People stood up to have a better look, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

Cedric startled and followed, but his broom wasn't of great speed, and wasn't as good a flier as Harry was, anyway.

In the stands, James and Lily were watching Harry speed straight at Snape. They had come there to surprise Harry. Lily was freaking out at such a dangerous maneuver, and while James was awed, he was also worried. 

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.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. The game was over, barely lasting 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, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Excellent."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Just then, a streak of red obscured his vision. Lily hugged Harry tightly, before scowling at him. "Harry James Potter! You could've broken your neck, young man! Don't ever scare me that way again, you hear me? Or you'll be grounded for life!"

"Yeah, congrats, son." James grinned at his son.

"Mum, dad? What're you doing here?"

"Thought to surprise you. We were getting bored at home."

"Especially since Sirius and Remus both left." James added grouchily.

"Where's Uncle Moony gone?" Charles lifted an eyebrow, arriving at his brother's side.

"India. He should be sending you a letter himself in a day or two."

Charles

Charles walked slowly back to the castle with Ron and Hermione. Harry had already been carried away by the Gryffindors, for a party in the common room. First and second years weren't allowed after an hour, when they would bring in drinks and all. 

Suddenly, 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. Thoughts of the party faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest - what was going on?

Charles grabbed Ron and Hermione's arms and pointed, and after a minute of decision, they took off after him, carefully avoiding being seen. The trees were so thick that he couldn't see where Snape had gone. Then they heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

In a shadowy clearing stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Charles couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. He 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," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Charles 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," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"-- 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 decide where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Charles could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

As they walked back, they discussed what they had 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 the dog - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus-- I reckon other things are guarding the stone, 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 countered.

Hermione sighed. "Do we tell the others?"

"Sure." Charles nodded.

"And Harry?"

Charles hesitated for only a moment before he insisted, "No."

"But-"

"No, he doesn't tell us about Flamel, we don't tell him what we know. We can handle this."

Hermione argued, "He's older-"

"-and would probably tell us to stay away from this." Ron scowled. "I'm with Charles on this one."

Hermione sighed but agreed.