"So we'll be finding out who he is. I wonder if we stumble upon it, or if you end up looking at your Chocolate Frog card collection," Hermione said.
Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk.
"Harry, you can still use it," Cedric said.
Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror so easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.
Luna put her arm around Harry, hugging him lightly.
"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams.
"Not very sympathetic, is he?" Cedric said.
Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.
"I doubt I told you about the mirror," Harry said; he really didn't care to tell her now. It was only the fact that the book mentioned it that she knew about it.
"Yeah, well, I would probably still be horrified about the fact that you were out after curfew," Hermione said, shrugging.
They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere.
"Poor Harry, being driven crazy because he can't remember where to find a name," Hermione said.
Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.
Wood was working the team harder than ever.
"Oh, god," Harry said – if he was working them harder than before, he had the feeling that must mean hours of practice at every moment.
Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasley's completed that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side.
"I suggest you never let Wood know that," Cedric said.
If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years.
"I have a feeling the whole school's hoping that will happen, aside from the Slytherins, of course," Cedric said.
Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.
"At least there's that," Harry said, sounding cheerful. None of the others were fooled.
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.
"Those two…" Hermione said, shaking her head.
"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of think that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"
"Snape's refereeing?" Cedric said, shocked.
"Apparently," Hermione said.
"Why?" Harry asked. She shrugged.
George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.
Some sniggering at this.
"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud.
Outright laughter at this.
"When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
"Well, I will say that it's bad for you guys, but good for us Hufflepuff," Cedric said. Hermione gave him a look.
The rest of the team landed next to Geroge 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."
"Oh, he'll most likely do that anyways," Cedric said cheerfully.
Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch…
"Because he tried to kill me in the last one," Harry muttered. Hermione gave him a small glare; there was no proof of that. Plus, the fact that Quirrell had been mentioned still made her suspicious.
The rest of the team hung back o talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.
"I can understand why we say that," Harry squeaked at Hermione's glare. "It helps show that you don't always have to be the best."
She still glared for a minute before returning to the book.
"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sad down next to him, "I need to concen-" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."
"Nice," Hermione said, laughing a bit.
"Yeah, it's an off day if someone doesn't tell me that I look terrible," Harry said.
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
"You know, I think he's doing it just in case your attacked again," Hermione said suddenly.
"Come on, he failed in killing me last time," Harry said. "It's obvious that he wants another chance at doing that, and making sure that I do die." Despite the lack of evidence condemning Snape, Harry was quite sure that he was the one who had tried to kill him that first time. After all, why would he be able to get back on his broom after Hermione set Snape on fire?
"Harry, whoever tried to kill you your first match did it in a subtle, unassuming way – from the sounds of it, you probably look like you were controlling your broom for those in the crowd – it would probably have been considered an accident if you had fallen. Snape refereeing to kill you is too in your face; there's no way to hide it if he did that to kill you, and I have the feeling he doesn't want to go to jail," Hermione said. Harry grumbled; when put like that, it did make Snape seem innocent, and like he was trying to keep Harry safe.
"Fine, you win," Harry said sulkily. "But that doesn't mean that I don't suspect Snape being guilty of something."
"Don't play," said Hermione at once.
"Say you're ill," said Ron.
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.
"That won't work," Cedric said.
"Really break your leg," said Ron.
"Nor that. Madam Pomfrey can heal bones in a second," said Cedric.
"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."
"Wait, so let me get this straight. You plan on playing, despite the fact that you believe Snape might attempt to kill you, because here isn't a reserve Seeker?" Hermione said.
"Sounds about right," Harry answered.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
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.
"Malfoy," they all said, knowing that it was him.
He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.
"Poor Neville," Harry said; he didn't like how someone could easily bully him.
Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the counter-curse.
"At least someone helps him," Harry said.
"Somehow, I think he knew I would; you and Ron might be my obvious friends, but he must be my friend as well," Hermione said.
Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.
"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.
"Malfoy," said Neville shakily.
"Knew it," the four said together.
"I met him outside the library. He said he's been looking for someone to practice that on."
"Perhaps I should use him as a practice target," Cedric growled.
"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"
"He really should," Luna said.
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."
"While he could say it in a nicer way, that kind of is true," Hermione said. Luna nodded.
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.
"Like I said, just need a nicer way of saying it," Hermione said.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robe and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione and given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.
"Oh, don't tell me…" Cedric started to say, a grin forming on his face.
"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."
"That's a nice way of cheering someone up," said Cedric.
Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.
"Thanks, Harry…I think I'll going to bed… D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"
"You've got to be kidding me," Hermione said.
"What?" asked Harry.
"You find Flamel because Neville give you the card from the last Frog you had," she explained. Cedric and Luna chuckled.
As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.
"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever –"
He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.
"I've found him!" he 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 discover of 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.
Harry sniggered, which earned him a mock glare from Hermione.
"Stay there!" she said, she printed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry 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?" Cedric asked. "Didn't it say that the book was enormous."
"Yeah, it did," said Harry.
"It does sound light," Luna said. The two boys looked at her in horror, while Hermione beamed.
"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up,
Some snorting.
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.
"Nice," Cedric said, laughing.
"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 and Ron.
"Oh, honestly, don't you two read?"
There was more some sniggering at that, from all but Harry, who mock pouted.
"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 Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produce the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.
"Yeah, I can see why whoever is trying to steal it wants it," Cedric said.
Harry and Hermione, however, both looked at each other at that last line, thinking the same thing.
"What?" Cedric asked, noticing their looks.
"Well, remember what Hagrid said about Voldemort?" Hermione said. He nodded.
"Wouldn't he want something like this for himself, especially if it helps him get his body back…" Harry added. Cedric's eyes wided.
"No, no way. You think…" he started.
"It makes sense. I mean, someone tried to rob Gringotts and got away, which does sound something like he'd be able to do. Obviously, one of the people we're thinking about is in league with him," Hermione said. "That might actually be why someone attempted to kill Harry. I mean, there's really no other reason, unless they were in league with Voldemort."
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).
"Wow, that's old," Harry said.
"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron 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!"
"Well, actually, that doesn't make much sense, especially since I have the feeling that Flamel, as old as he is, might actually have ideas on how to protect it better than Dumbledore; plus, since we know where it is, it's obviously not as well protected as one thinks. All one has to do is get Hagrid talking about how to get past Fluffy, and, unless there are more protections, they have the stone. No, I have the feeling that Dumbledore talked them into giving him the stone – which, for all we know, is not the real stone, since, if I was Flamel, I'd have several red herrings – and that Dumbledore isn't so much about protecting it than setting a trap," Hermione said.
"That does make some sense. Plus, something's been bothering me about the ease in which you received the clue about Hagrid. I mean, as bad as he is at keeping secrets, he can keep them; I remember hearing the twins complaining about something last year that Hagrid was keeping from them. So how is it that you received the clue about Flamel so easily?" Cedric said.
"You think someone wants us to know?" Harry asked.
"Well, yes. I mean, it is strange that the Stone is moved from Gringotts to the school the same year that you arrive," Cedric said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone is testing you for some reason."
"A stone that makes gold and stops you from every dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."
"That's not nessessarily true. I mean, would you want it, Harry?" Hermione asked. He shook his head; while having the gold might be nice, living forever really wouldn't.
"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments on Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"
"No, not really. That's why I said you should look up books from other decades," Cedric said.
The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bite, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one.
"Nice," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.
"How nice of you to remember," Cedric said.
"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape."
"That is true, unfortunately," Cedric said.
"I'll show them…it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."
"Oh, I really want to see that," Cedric said, envisioning it.
"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.
"So nice," Harry said.
As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione.
"Why do I get the feeling that I can tell this?" Hermione said.
"Because you probably can. It would explain why I have to keep saying something," Harry said.
The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either.
"Of course not. It's a chance of a lifetime to most of them," Cedric said. "I'm sure even the Huflepuff team would be the same way as well."
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?
"Probably, since he can't be the way he is in class on the pitch," said Cedric.
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.
"Yeah, you're probably being a bit paranoid," Hermione said.
Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could – yet, he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
"I don't think so…" Hermione said.
Harry knew when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alone again.
"Just a bit too dramatic, aren't you?" Harry said.
"You're rubbing off on us," Hermione said.
This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a wood of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.
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 both brought their wands to the match.
"What do you plan on doing?" Cedric asked.
"I don't know, let's hope they say in the book," Hermione said.
Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse.
"Oh, not a good idea. While it's good that you want to protect Harry, the consequences of attacking Snape would be bad," Cedric said.
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.
"Now, don't forget, it's Locomortor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.
"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."
"If she didn't nag, you would most likely forget," Cedric said; he really didn't care for the youngest Weasley boy.
Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.
"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need any early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."
"That is very good idea," Cedric said.
"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even – blimey – Dumbedore's come to watch!"
"He must have heard what happened last time, and wanted to make sure it didn't happen this time," Cedric said. "After all, if someone was trying to kill you, they will not willingly risk doing it in front of him."
Harry's heart did a somersault.
"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.
"Damn, that beard's shiny," Harry said.
"Harry," Hermione reprimand. It was obvious she wasn't happy with him cursing.
Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.
Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams matched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.
"I've never seen Snape looks 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.
"Why is he sitting behind us?" Hermione asked irritably.
"Most likely to annoy you and Ron," said Cedric. "And, knowing Ron, he'll rise to the challenge."
"Wonder how long Potter's 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.
"And I bet you that George enjoyed it, and had no shame in doing it, too," Cedric said.
Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly as Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.
"Not allowing anything to distract you, good," Cedric said.
"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.
"Of course," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I thought you said he couldn't do something like that?"
"Well, it's more like he can't overdue it," Cedric said.
"It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, 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."
"Oh, poor guy. Malfoy must be so jealous that he can't get on the team without having Dad buy his way on it," Cedric said. It did seem like something Malfoy would do; the Slytherin captain tended to go for big guy for his team, and really wouldn't look at Malfoy without some type of reason. Flint certainly didn't go so much on talent than ruthlessness.
Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.
"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.
"So true," Hermione said.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."
"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.
"Oh, I know I shouldn't say it, but I really hope that Ron beat the stuffing out of Malfoy," Hermione said.
"I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word –"
'Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry –!"
"What? Where?"
Harry had suddenly gone onto 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've spotted the Snitch already. But the game hasn't even been going for five minutes," Cedric said, sounding impressed. He immediately knew that, if Harry ended up in his house this time around, he would be going for a different position on the team, rather than Seeker; he knew that, against Harry, he would have no chance.
"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.
"Idiot," Cedric said.
Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.
"Go, Ron!" the people in the room cheered.
Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.
"Go, Neville!" They cheered again.
"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.
"How in hell do you not notice that?" Cedric said, ignoring the glare she sent him.
"I don't know; I must be more focused on Harry than everything else," Hermione said.
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.
"Okay, it's official. If you end up in Hufflepuff, I am not going to attempt to get the Seeker position on the team; it's obvious you'd be much better for it," Cedric said. He didn't look to sad about that, as he actually wanted to try out for the Keeper position. The Seeker position was what was usually open, though.
The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.
"Ron! Ron! 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 hugged Parvati Patil in the row in front.
"You must really be out of it," Harry said.
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 Gryffindor came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape landed nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped – them Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.
"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror...been keeping busy…excellent…"
"Why'd he have to mention the mirror?" Hermione asked, worried that Harry would begin to obsess over it again.
Snape spat bitterly on the ground.
"Good-bye, grass that would grow there," Cedric said mournfully, making the others laugh.
Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now – no one could say he was just a famous name any more.
"Because winning a match is more important that beating a dark wizard," Luna said, shaking her head.
"I think I'm thinking that because I can remember winning the match. I can't remember what happened the night my parents died," Harry said.
The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blue: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.
"Poor Ron," Luna said.
Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape…
And speaking of Snape…
"Do we have to," Harry whined.
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?
They all listened now, not wanting to miss a single thing that was said.
Harry jumped back in his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.
The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices.
"There's more than one person there," Hermione whispered, again wishing she had something to take notes with.
He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.
He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.
Before, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too.
"Okay, now I that is odd," Harry said. What would Snape want with Quirrell?
Harry couldn't make out the look in his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry 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."
"Uh-oh," Harry said; how did he find out?
"I don't think that he knows we know, Harry," Hermione said, noticing the look on his face. "I think he's actually saying that because it's not supposed to be known, so he wants to make sure no one overhears them."
Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.
"Have you found out how to get past the 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 nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself 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."
"Okay, Hermione, you can't say that Snape's not after the stone after hearing that," Harry said.
"Actually, book me can't, but real me can. Why would Quirrell need to know how to get past Fluffy in the first place? I mean, wouldn't Snape use someone else; Quirrell stutters too much not to be identified, which would put him under suspicion if something should happen. If I wanted to do it, I wouldn't even mention the Stone, and I would try to get someone smart to get the information I need," Hermione said. "Quirrell's too… I don't know, he just doesn't seem the type to try help anyone under duress. Plus, we don't know exactly what Snape was saying. You know, about the 'Your little bit of hocus-pocus' part. Who knows what he meant there. No, I think Snape suspects Quirrell, wants to see how far he's gotten, and is telling him to stop what he's planning on doing."
Harry mouthed at her wordlessly, before shaking his head.
"How about this. I'll pay you ten Galleons if you turn out to be right," he said.
"Like a bet?" Hermione asked, clearly amused.
"Yes. I bet you ten Galleons that Snape is working with Voldemort and trying to steal the stone," Harry said.
"I'll take it, only I bet that it's Quirrell working with Voldemort and trying to steal the stone," Hermione said. They shook on it as the bet appeared on the paper.
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.
"Understandable. Snape knows how to scare people rather well," Cedric said.
"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.
"I must have been worried when you didn't show up," Hermione said.
"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back.
"I think he's excited," Harry said.
"Really?" Hermione said. "Couldn't tell."
"And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single handed!"
"Oh dear," Hermione said. That can't have ended well.
"He's still out cold, but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right – talk about showing Slytherin!"
"Poor Neville," Luna said.
"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."
"They know where the kitchens are?" Hermione asked.
"They pretty much know where everything is," Cedric answered. "I really don't know how they do it, either."
"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this…"
"And you making sure we know, good," Hermione said.
He made sure Peeves wasn't inside
"Smart. Half of the reason why things get around is because no one checks to make sure Peeves isn't hanging around," Cedric said.
before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd 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 – 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 –"
"And that right there should tell you that it's wrong," Cedric said. "One, I doubt anyone trying to get to the stone would use Dark Art spells, especially if there is the chance of having another spell that reacts to it, and two, I wasn't kidding about what I said in 'The Sorting Hat' chapter about having to know Dark Arts to defend against them. Snape would, most likely, easily break through any spell that Quirrell did."
"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.
"He's being generous. If it depended on Quirrell, I would have said an hour," Hermione said. "Oh, and chapter's done."