disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, belongs to JK Rowling, the Queen. I only own Arabella and the story that she comes with
Enjoy! Hope you like it :)
After the incident with Dumbledore, Harry and Arabella did not go looking for the Mirror of Erised again. For the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his truck.
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 with Ron and Arabella, and disappointment that they hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.
Once term started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other three, because Quidditch practice had started again.
During one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news.
'Snape's referring the next match.'
'Don't play,' said Hermione at once.
'Say you're ill,' said Ron.
'Pretend to break your leg,' said Arabella.
'Really break your leg,' said Ron.
'Really Ron?' said Arabella, giving Ron a disbelieved look.
'I can't,' said Harry. 'There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all.'
At that moment Neville toppled into the common-room. His legs had been stuck together with what they recognised at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower
Everyone fell about laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the counter-curse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling
'What happened?' Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron and Arabella.
'Malfoy,' said Neville shakily. 'I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practise that on.'
'Go to Professor McGonagall!' Hermione urged Neville. 'Report him!'
Neville shook his head.
'Neville, you have to do something!' said Arabella. 'Get back at him or something!'
'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.'
'There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that,' Neville choked.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.
'You're worth twelve of Malfoy. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin,' said Harry.
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.
'Dumbledore again. He was the first one I ever – '
He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron, Arabella and Hermione.
'I've found him!' he whispered. 'I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read his name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here – listen to this: Professor 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 got back the marks for their first piece of homework.
'Stay here!' she said, and she sprinted up the stair to the girls' dormitories. Harry, Ron and Arabella barely had time to exchange looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her hands.
'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 quite 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 Philosopher's Stone!'
'Of course!' said Arabella, hitting her hand to her forehead.
'The what?' said Harry and Ron.
'Wait, Arabella, how do you know about this?' said Hermione, looking at Arabella in shock.
'Uncle Remus mentioned to me about it once,' said Arabella, looking anywhere besides Hermione.
'What?! I told you to ask him about this! Arabella!' exclaimed Hermione, looking furious.
'I couldn't ask him! Just imagine me putting it in a letter. 'Hello Uncle Remus. How is everything? Who is Nicolas Flamel? How is Aunt Andy?' It would be too suspicious!' said Arabella, looking at Hermione and matching her glare.
'Can we get back to the problem? What is the Philosopher's Stone?' said Harry.
'Oh, honestly. Read that, there.'
She pushed the book towards them and Harry and Ron read: The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher'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 might have been many reports of the Philosopher'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 Harry and Ron had finished. 'The guard must be guarding the Flamel's Philosopher'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 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 Wizardy,' said Ron. 'He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?'
'So what are we going to do now? We know what the dog's guarding and what Snape's after. What now?' asked Arabella.
'Don't know. Just have to be sure he doesn't get it,' said Harry.
Next morning in Defence Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Ron and Arabella were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone of they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.
'I'm going to play,' he told Ron, Arabella 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 off the pitch,' said Hermione.
'You don't have to do this Harry,' said Arabella.
'I want to,' said Harry.
On the day of the match, Ron, Arabella and Hermione found a place in the stands next to Neville, who didn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron, Arabella and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg Locker curse. They'd got 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 Locomotor Mortis,' Hermione muttered.
'I know,' Ron snapped. 'Don't nag.'
'Enough, the both of you,' said Arabella. 'Look, Dumbledore's come to watch. Snape wouldn't try anything with Dumbledore watching.'
'Look at Snape. I've never seen him look so mean,' Ron told them. '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 Potter's going to stay in his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?'
Ron didn't answer. Hermione was watching Harry with squinted eyes. Arabella was clutching her hands into a fist, watching Snape.
'You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?' said Malfoy loudly. 'It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasley, who've got no money – you should be on the team, Black, you've got a locked up father. Better yet, you too should be on the team Longbottom, you have no brains.'
Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.
'I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy,' he stammered.
'You tell his Neville,' said Arabella, as her knuckles started to turn white.
Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter.
'Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something.'
Ron's nerves were already stretched to breaking point with anxiety about Harry.
'I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word –'
'Ron! Arabella!' said Hermione suddenly. 'Harry - !'
'What? Where?' they said at the same time.
Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her fingers in her mouth as Harry streaked towards 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. Crabbe and Goyle were about to pull Ron off of him, but Arabella turned and starting wrestling one of them Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help them.
'Come on, Harry!' Hermione screamed. 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 Arabella, Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.
Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arms 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.
'Arabella! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor are in the lead!' shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati in the row in front.
'Harry, where have you been?' Hermione squeaked.
'We won! You won! We won!' shouted Ron, trumping Harry on the back. 'And I gave Malfoy a black eye and Arabella and Neville took on Crabbe and Goyle!'
'Really?' said Harry, turning to Arabella, who had a split lip and some blood on her collar.
'It's true! He's out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right. Anyways, 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.
'Nevermind that now,' said Harry. 'Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this…'
He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.
'So, we were right, it is the Philosopher'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 'hocuspocus' – 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 which 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 as Arabella groaned, face palming.
Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it :)