Together (A Harry Potter love story) 1

37

MILLIES POV

"I've found him!" Harry 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: '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!"

Mione jumped to her feet.

"Stay there!" she said, before sprinting up the stairs to the girls dormitories. We barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, with an enormous book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly.

"Of course!" I exclaimed, recognising the book.

"We got this out the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading," Hermione explained to Harry and Ron.

"This is light?" said Ron.

"Shut up!" Mione and I said at the same time, as Harry sniggered. I dropped onto the floor next to Mione, as she placed the book on the coffee table. We flicked frantically through the pages, muttering to each other, whilst Harry and Ron watched us with confused expressions.

"Found it," I said triumphantly, pointing at one of the pages.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Hermione cheered.

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron miserably. We ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," Mione whispered dramatically, "is the only know maker of the philosophers stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she wanted.

"The what?" Harry and Ron said.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read?" Hermione grumbled.

I pushed the book towards them, "look - read that."

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 Elixer 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).

"See?" I said, when Ron and Harry had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's philosophers 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 wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent If he's six hundred and fifty five, is he?"

The next morning, In Defence Against the Dark Arts while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, I was listening to Harry and Ron, next to me, who were discussing what they'd do with a philosophers stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that I remembered about Snape and the upcoming match.

"You're playing, right?" I asked Harry, my eyes still on my notes.

"Yeah," He said. "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 when we win."

"When we win?" I repeated, glancing up from the paper. "Someone's confident."

"With you playing, obviously we will win," he said, sending me a wink.