꧁☬⋆ᴺᴼ ᴼᴺᴱ'ˢ ᴾᴼᵛ⋆☬꧂

You leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart, and he got to his feet, trembling, leading him over to sit with Harry and 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," Easton said.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"Seriously, that git. It seems like beating the crap out of him last time; he hasn't learned any lesson yet." Kayden spoke as she shook her head in disappointment.

"Using fits won't lead to anything more than a huge fight, Knight." Hermione flicked her forehead.

Harry pulled out a Chocolate Frog; he gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said.

"The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor. And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

"Pardon?" You, Kayden, Easton, Benjamin and Henry said in unison glaring at Harry.

"Oops, sorry guys, no offence."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card; you collect them, don't you?"

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

You five fumed from anger being insulted because getting called out being in the 'Stinking Slytherin.'

"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, Hermione and you.

"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 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, Ron and you 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.

"So that's the book, I've been looking for. It seems like you have it already." You sighed.

"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 and Ron.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look -- read that, there." You said.

You grabbed the book from Hermione and pushed the book toward them and read it for them.

"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 you had finished reading it.

"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 Ron.

"He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

"But I am confused, why does he even want it?" You spoke as the trio looked at you.

"So he can live in eternity." Ron rolled his eyes.

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, You, 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 Harry remembered about Snape and the upcoming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Ron, Hermione and you.

"If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them... it'll wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Did you three perhaps forgot that I am a Slytherin? And Harry, not all of us are a git. Some of us are still nice to everyone." You sighed as you crossed your arms.

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," Hermione added.

"You will be watching, right, Y/N?" Harry gave you a pleading look.

You sigh, and shrugs "I am not sure, Harry, Auntie Minnie has been making me practice waltz, and it will be held in another country, Austria. That's all I recall." You groan.

"Waltz? For what? And you're leaving the country just for that?" Ron asked.

"I have no bloody idea, all she said, " it will be useful in the future." Like when?"

➱➱➱➱

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione.

And it has been five weeks since everyone last saw you.

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?

While you? Stuck at dancing, practising how to bloody dance. You like dancing, but you somehow hate it when people tell you what to do.

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.

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.

You've been trying not to make Harry into trouble along with the two Gryffindor to Professor Snape.

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 alive again.

This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

You sent him a letter wishing him good luck, and not die.

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.

Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practising 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.

You told your friends to sit with the Gryffindor and cheer for them, and the four agreed to us not caring what will the other Slytherins will think of them.

"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 aside.

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

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

Harry's heart somersaulted.

"The Dumbledores?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right.

There was no mistaking that silver beard and an h/c little girl sitting next to him.

You didn't tell him that you'll be coming back soon to watch his game; you wanted it to be a surprise.

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.

But still worried if Snape did try to hurt him, your view to your uncle will change.

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." Draco Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott.

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

"How about let's make a bet on how long will you stay alive if you keep bothering us, how about that?" Knight raised her eyebrows smirking along with the three Slytherin arm crossed.

"Now, now, Malfoy. Why don't you go back to Slytherin place, ey? Also if you keep acting like this... Your crush will be truly upset about this." Henry spoke as he pointed at the h/c figure who is talking to her grandfather.

"Tch, I don't get it why you five even go friends with these Gryffindors." Malfoy glared at the Gryffindors.

"Well, they are more fun to hang out with," Easton said as the three dumbheads Slytherin shrugs.

"Don't tell me; you let your father will hear about this. You're such a baby." Ben said the other three laughed as some of the Gryffindor heard and laughed as well.

Draco 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.

"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 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." He ignores the other Slytherin because he knows if he keeps arguing with them, it will lead to disaster for himself.

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

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

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

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

"Also, Malfoy, I think you forgot something, Y/N doesn't even have parents as well. And if she hears about this, oh boy, say goodbye to your crush." Ben shook his head in disappointment.

"Don't worry, Y/N will sure hear about this." Knight pointed at the angry-looking girl who was watching them.

Kayden Knight knows that she can hear them from afar.

Draco's eyes widen as he snaps his head back to Knight, who is smirking.

"Why you-"

"Guys!" blurted Hermione, "Harry--"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd.

You stood up, crossed fingers in your 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 and the four other Slytherin snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.

As Malfoy friends joined them as they fight the other four Slytherins.

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 his companions and Ron along with the other four Slytherins are rolling around under her place, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville.

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.