Soon enough after Christmas, everyone began to arrive back at Hogwarts for the next term. When Hermione and Bonnie came back, they were both torn between horror at our late night adventures and disappointment that we hadn't at least found anything on Nicolas Flamel and what the dog could be guarding.

As the term started, so did Quidditch practices, with Wood training us harder than ever - because if we win this match against Hufflepuff, we will overtake Slytherin on the leaderboard for the first time in seven years - and sneaky trips to the library during ten minute breaks, the first two weeks back were very busy indeed. Let's not mention the amount of beginning term homework we've been getting off the professors.

During one particularly wet and muddy Quidditch practice, Wood dumps some horrible news on us. He'd just gotten angry at Fred and George, who kept dive-bombing each other and preventing to fall off their brooms.

"Stop messing around!" He yells at them for the fifth time. "That's exactly the sort of thing hat will lose us the next match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

At these words, George actually falls off his broom.

"Snape's refereeing?" He splutters with his mouth full of mud. "When has Snape ever refereed a Quidditch match?"

"Yeah!" I say, walking over to Wood. "He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin. And, where's Madam Hooch?"

The rest of the team land down next to George and I and begin to complain too.

"It's not my fault!" Wood yells over the top of us. "We've just got to play a nice clean game so Snape doesn't have any reason to pick on us. And Sarah," he adds. "Please catch the Snitch early if you can."

"What ever you say, captain." I playfully salute him.

For the rest of a the evening, we continue to train, properly this time. After practice, the rest of the team stays behind to chat in the locker room, while Harry and head straight back up to the castle, where we find Ron and Bonnie playing chess, with Amy and Hermione watching in the common room.

Ron and Bonnie seem to be concentrating very hard, but I interrupt them anyway with the news of Snape's sudden desire to referee the game.

"Snape's refereeing?" Bonnie asks straight away.

"Don't play," Amy says immediately with, looking me dead in the eye.

"Say you're ill," Bonnie says. "Both of you."

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggests.

"Actually break your leg," Ron says.

"We can't," I say. "There isn't a reserve Seeker to take my place. Harry could though, there is a reserve Chaser. But if I don't play, we'll lose the Cup. We need this."

Just as I'm about to sit on the chair next to Hermione, the portrait swings open and Neville topples into the room. How he did so is anyone guess, because his legs have been stuck together with what looks like the Leg-Locker curse.

"Neville!" I exclaim, running over to him as everyone in the common room begins to laugh.

I help him to his feet and perform the counter curse on him straight away. His legs spring apart, making him fall over again.

"What happened?" I ask urgently, helping him to his feet. It's not fair for people to pick on poor Neville.

"Malfoy," Neville mutters shakily. "I met him outside the library and he said he wanted someone to practice that on."

"Report him to Professor Mcgonagall!" I say. "He can't just do this, that's bullying!"

Neville shakes his head cowardly, making me sigh.

"You've got to stand in up to him, Neville," Ron says from behind me. "You're worth twelve of him," he adds encouragingly.

Neville just bites his lip, before Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out a chocolate frog. He holds it out to Neville, "Here, have this," he says. "I've got loads."

Neville shakily takes the frog, mumbling a thanks and that he'll be going to bed.

"Wait, it's only seven o'clock," I say, before a sudden realisation hits me. "Seven o'clock! I've got detention with Quirrell!"

Without hearing another word from the others, I quickly climb through the portrait hole and out of the Common Room. I race as fast as I can down the stairs and to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Five minutes later and and puffing, I go to knock on the door, before I hear voices from inside. At instinct, I press my ear up against the door.

"-Dumbledore will be at the match, I cannot harm the twins there," comes the familiar voice of Professor Quirrell, but he is not stuttering.

Curiously, I continue to listen. "You failed knocking them off their brooms, Quirrell," another voice, with a cold tone to it, says.

"I-I'm sorry, My Lord," Quirell says, this time the stutter is real.

"That is not to happen again. There is no room for error at this next match," the other voice says. "Now, lay off this 'My Lord' business, you can call me Voldemort."

I gasp, before clapping my hand over my mouth. Voldemort? Working with Quirrell? This can't be! I hope they didn't hear me just then.

"Now, we must kill Harry and Sarah at this next match. After they are gone, and we get rid of Dumbledore, and that giant tells us how to get past that three-headed dog, then the stone is ours."

"But, My - Voldemort, there are other obstacles. I had to make one myself, remember," Quirrell says.

"Yes, yes - I remember," Voldemort says in a bored tone.

Trying to wrap my head around things, I knock on the door, causing any conversation coming from inside to die immediately. I can't believe that my own teacher is willing to kill myself and Harry for Voldemort so the can get this 'stone', whatever that is.

"C-come in," Quirrell says in his fake stutter, after a few moments. I slowly open the door, and he is alone. I wonder where Voldemort went?

"S-sit down," Quirrell says, directing me to a seat before him in front of the classroom. I walk shakily to the seat, and sit down, as Quirrell places some blank parchment in front of me. "Y-you'll be writing some l-lines today, Miss P-P-Potter. You must w-write 'I must n-not run in the c-corridors'."

He sits a quill in beside the parchment and walks to the desk in the corner. As I write the stupid lines, I keep watch of him in the corner of my eyes to see him constantly staring at me.

After at least an hour of writing, and the stench of garlic getting to me, I can finally leave. As soon as the classroom door closes behind me, I sprint away from the classroom. I frantically climb the stairs to the Common Room.

As I stand before the portrait, I begin to wonder about Quirrell and Voldemort. Should I tell Harry and the others? Quirrell and Voldemort are after Harry too, but I can't worry him. He would seek out Professor Quirrell himself, and I can't let that happen.

I tell the Fat Lady the password, after telling myself that Harry can't know about Quirrell and. Voldemort. As I enter, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bonnie and Amy are all waiting for me.

"How was detention?" Harry asks me.

"Huh?" I say, my mind on Quirrell and Voldemort's plans.

"I said, how was detention?" Harry says again, looking at me weirdly. I must be obvious, I can't be obvious.

"Oh, it was fine," I say quickly. "What have you guys been doing?"

"Trying to find out what what that dog could be guarding," Hermione says, gesturing to the large book in front of her. "And we know what it is! It's the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The Philosopher's what?" I say, not having any clue what this Philosopher's Stone is. It must be important to Voldemort.

"Stone," Hermione says. "The Philosopher's Stone. Here." She moves the book toward the edge of the table, and opens it to a page. I look closer at it.

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosophers 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 Philosophers 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).

Voldemort is after the Philosopher's Stone, so he can come back. No, this can't happen.

"See, Sarah?" Bonnie says. "This is what Snape's after."

Nope. It's not what Snape is after, it's what Voldemort is after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a full week of trying not to tell the others about Quirrell and Voldemort, and them all being perfectly kind to Quirrell, the next Quidditch match of the season arrives.

I am completely prepared, and it makes me feel better that Dumbledore will be there so Quirrell can't do anything to Harry or I.

I skip down to breakfast with Amy, feeling a lot more confident than the last match. I know Snape is refereeing, but I promised Wood I'd catch the snitch early. I hope it will be that easy.

After we all eat breakfast, Harry included this time, the whole team heads down to the Pitch to get changed into our robes and listen to Wood's pre-match pep talk.

"The whole school's out there!" Fred says, peering out the door of the change rooms. "Blimey, Dumbledore's there too!"

I sigh. Dumbledore is there, so it is certain that Quirrell can't hurt us. If everything goes to plan, we should be able to leave the game without a scratch, or unnecessary penalties from Snape.

After a few minutes, Wood announces that it's time. We all pick up our brooms and head onto the pitch where the Hufflepuff team are already waiting.

The moment Snape blows the whistle, I take off, soaring high on my Nimbus 2000. Blocking out any source of sound, I speed around the pitch in search of the snitch. I need to find this as quickly as I can.

After my second lap around, I finally see it and streak toward it. I don't bother about the Hufflepuff Seeker who must be following closely behind.

I speed after the Snitch, only just dodging Snape who dives out of the way, before clasping my hand around the tiny golden ball.

I abruptly stop my broom and thrust my hand into the air, signifying that I've caught the Snitch.

The students and teachers burst into cheers, as I fly toward the ground and jump off my broom.

This has to be a record - the fastest catch. I don't think anyone has caught the snitch this fast before, well, not that I've heard of anyhow.

The rest of the Gryffindor team fly to the ground and run over to me, hoisting me onto their shoulders.

I can't believe I did it! On Fred and George's shoulders I look into the crowd at the teachers section and I see Quirrell scowling. Ha, he couldn't do anything.

The rest of the Gryffindor's come down to the pitch from the stands to congratulate us. Amy and Bonnie are jumping up and down in happiness, Ron and Hermione are clapping, and the rest are chanting 'Gryffindor!'

This is amazing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Harry and I enter the the Common Room after the match, it explodes into cheers. When I thought the cheering was enough at the match, this just adds to it.

Even more people come to congratulate me on my actions on the Pitch, and apparently Harry scored a goal in that short time.

After everyone leaves us alone to chat in their own groups, Hermione comes over to us. "Hey, come, we have something to tell you," she says, motioning over to where Ron, Bonnie and Amy are standing at the portrait hole.

Nodding, Harry and I follow Hermione and the others out the portrait hole. We go down the seventh floor corridor and find an unlocked classroom.

"What is it?" I ask as we close the door.

"We now know definitely that Snape is after the Stone," Amy says.

"How?" I ask, trying to figure out how Quirrell is forcing the spotlight off himself.

"We overheard heard Quirrell talking with him about the stone," Hermione says. "Well, not directly about the Stone itself, but they were talking about how to get past Fluffy."

I shake my head. They must have heard Quirrell talking to Voldemort, not Quirrell to Snape. I badly want to tell them, but it will only scare them and Harry will go after Quirrell, so I shut my mouth.

"You've got it wrong," is all I say.

"How?" Harry says, taking Hermione and Ron's side. "The other day you were so sure it was Snape, and now you don't think so? We can see now that everything points to Snape - it - is - Snape."

I sigh, not wanting to fight about it. "Alright, then. Let's get back, I'm sure everyone will be worried."

Without another word, the six of us leave the silent classroom and head back to the loud, party-like Common Room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N

Hey there. So, my school term has finally finished(yes!) so now I will have two weeks free to just write. And sometimes be social...maybe.

Anyway, so this book will be updated regularly as it is now, and book 3 will also be updated a bit more too :)

Questions:

1. How many times have you read the Harry Potter series?(I'm actually reading them for the 9th time at the moment)

2. What is your favourite childhood book? (I remember there was this one book called Slinky Malinky Opens the Door and it was about a cat that caused ruckus in a house. It was pretty great)

3. If you could live somewhere else in the world, where would you live? (I'd probably live somewhere in England)

Peace out guys, love you!

~Elise