CHAPTER TWELEVE !

NICHOLAS FLAMEL
( the philosophers stone )

_____________________

DUMBLEDORE HAD CONVINCED Raven and Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stayed folded at the bottom of Harry's trunk. Raven wished she could forget what she'd seen in the mirror as easily, but she couldn't. She then started having nightmares. Over and over again she dreamed about their parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Raven told him about these dreams which Harry had also been having.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, (which Raven was glad for) took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Raven and Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that they hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

In the library, on break, Raven and Hermione were looking at books and skimming them.

"Thank you for the book and the necklace, you really didn't need to get me anything." Raven said.

"Your welcome, and you're one of my best friends. I wanted too." Hermione says blushing. She looked up and saw Raven blushing too.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry and Raven were still sure they'd read the name somewhere. Raven and Harry had even less time than the other three, 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. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry and Raven were on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Raven found that she had fewer nightmares when she  was tired out after training.

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.

"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 the team 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, thought Raven but she had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while she was playing Quidditch. . . .

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

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry and Raven sat down next to him, "I need to concen—" He caught sight of Raven and Harry's faces. "What's the matter with you two? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other three 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 legs," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your legs," said Apollo.

"We can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

"And having two Chasers lessens the chances of us winning." says Raven.

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 they recognized 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, Apollo, and Raven as Hermione leapt 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 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 Raven. "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.

Raven felt in the pocket of her robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given her for Christmas. She gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," she 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, Raven. . . I think I'll go to bed. . . . D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry and Raven looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," she said, "He was the first one I ever—"

Raven gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then she looked up at Apollo, Ron and Hermione.

"I've found him!" she whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you we read the name somewhere before, We 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. Harry, Raven, Apollo, and Ron 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.

"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.

"The what?" said Harry, Apollo, Raven, and Ron.

"Oh, honestly, don't you four read? Look—read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and they 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?" said Hermione, when they all had finished. "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 Harry. "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 Raven. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Raven remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"We're going to play," Harry told Apollo, Ron and Hermione. "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 two off the field," said Hermione.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry and Raven became more and more nervous, whatever they told Ron, Apollo and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn'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 they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Raven didn't know whether she was imagining it or not, but she and Harry seemed to keep running into Snape wherever they went. At times, she even wondered whether Snape was following them, trying to catch them on their own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to a Raven and Harry.

Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Raven didn't see how he could—yet she sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry and Raven knew, when they wished them both good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Apollo, Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see them alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting.

Raven hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes and picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Apollo, Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had all brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry and Raven know that they all had been secretly practicing the Leg Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry or Raven.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry and Raven aside.

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

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

Raven's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" she said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry and Raven could have laughed out loud with relief—They were safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt either of them if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look they're off—Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long the Potter's are going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch and Raven, who every now and then had the quaffle in her hands. Hermione watched her worriedly.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's the Potters, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"And you three act as if he's wrong." Apollo says.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry and Raven.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy—one more word—"

"Ron! Apollo!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry—"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape—she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. Or Apollo cheering Ron on.

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.

"Ron! Apollo! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it—the game was over; it had barely lasted 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. Raven came down from the air jumping off her broom hugging Harry tightly.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry and Raven could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror . . . been keeping busy . . . excellent . . ."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Harry and Raven left the locker room alone some time later, to take their Nimbus Two Thousands back to the broomshed. Raven couldn't ever remember feeling happier. She was really proud of Harry. They walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in their heads, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Apollo, Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry and Raven had reached the shed. They leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. They had done it, they both had 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. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner—what was going on?

Harry and Raven jumped back on their Nimbus Two Thousands and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick they couldn't see where Snape had gone. They flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until they heard voices. The twins glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

They climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to the broomsticks, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Raven 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."

Harry 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."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry and Raven nearly fell out of the tree. They steadied them selves 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, RAVEN, WHERE HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry and Raven 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 Pomftey says he'll be all right—talk about showing Slytherin!"

"It was a great sight." Apollo chuckled.

"Everyone's waiting for you two in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . ."

They made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then Raven told them what they both had seen and 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 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," said Ron.