Harry Potter 01 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

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 dog must be guarding 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 Wizardry, ’ said Ron. ‘He’s not exactly recent if he’s six hundred and sixty-five, is he?’
    Next morning in Defence 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 Philosopher’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 coming match.
    ‘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. 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.
    *
    As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team weren’t too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it for nearly seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?
    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 Philosopher’s Stone? Harry didn’t see how he could – yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
    *
    Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the changing rooms 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.
    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 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 as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.
    ‘I know, ’Ron snapped. ‘Don’t nag.’
    Back in the changing 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 – Dumbledore’s come to watch!’
    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.
    Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try and hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.
    Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched on to the pitch, 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 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. 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