Ron-Weasly book 1

"But Snape tried to steal this thing," Harry persisted.

"Nonsense," Hagrid waved him off, "Snape is a teacher at Hogwarts School. He wouldn't do anything like that in his life."

"Then why did he try to kill Harry?" Hermione cried.

It seems that after everything that happened today, she has radically changed her view of Snape, whom she defended against the accusations of Harry and me yesterday.

I know what curses are, Hagrid. I've read all about them and I can immediately understand when someone is trying to curse something! In order to cast a spell, eye contact is needed, and Snape did not take his eyes off Harry, did not even blink once. I was watching him through binoculars, and then I saw when I crept up on him! And I'm telling you, it's not true! Hagrid blurted out, looking flustered. I don't know what happened to Harry's broom, but Snape would never do something like that to try to kill a student! Anyway, you three, listen up.: You're meddling in things that don't concern you at all, yes! You'd better forget about the Cannon and forget about what it's guarding, too. This thing only concerns Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel... Yeah!" said Harry, pleased. So someone named Nicholas Flamel is involved, right? Hagrid looked terribly angry with himself. But he couldn't change anything.

Chapter 11. Christmas.

Christmas was approaching. As promised, I wrote to my mother about the gift for Harry. Let him be happy. I have nothing to give him. Should I make him a postcard? In the middle of December, when everyone woke up in the morning, they found that the castle was covered with a thick layer of snow, and the huge lake was frozen. On the same day, the twins received several penalty points for conjuring snowballs they had made, and they began flying after Professor Quirrell, crashing into the back of his head. The few owls who managed to fight their way through the blizzard that morning to deliver mail to school were on the verge of death. And Hagrid had to tinker with them thoroughly before they could fly again.

All the students were looking forward to the holidays and could no longer think about anything else. Maybe it was because it was terribly cold at school and everyone wanted to go to their warm, cozy homes. No, it was warm in the Gryffindor Common Room, the bedroom, and the Great Hall, because the flames roaring in the fireplaces did not go out for a minute. But the draughty corridors were icy, and the windows in the frozen classrooms were shaking and ringing under the blows of the wind, threatening to fly out. They couldn't fix them with magic. After all, this is where the largest community of brownies lives. But no, we need everyone to freeze. Okay, the seniors are casting warming charms on themselves, but what should we do? Our family is saved by my mother's sweaters. She enchants them for warmth. What about Muggleborns and first-generation children? They're wearing Muggle clothes without enchantments.

The students had the worst time in Professor Snape's classes, which took place in the dungeon. Steam escaping from their mouths hung in the air like a white cloud, and the students, forgetting about burns and other dangers, tried to stay as close as possible to the boiling boilers, almost clinging to them.

"I can't believe that someone will stay at school for the Christmas holidays because no one is waiting for them at home," Draco Malfoy said loudly in one of his potions classes. "Poor guys, I feel sorry for them..."

As he spoke, Malfoy looked at Harry. Crabbe and Goyle giggled loudly. After the memorable match in which Gryffindor won thanks to Harry, Malfoy became even more unbearable. Stung by his team's defeat, he tried to make everyone laugh with a joke he had come up with. The idea was that in the next game, instead of Harry, a tree frog would take the field, it had a wider mouth than Potter's, and therefore it would be an ideal seeker.

However, Malfoy quickly realized that his joke wasn't making anyone laugh — Harry might have caught the ball in a very peculiar way, but he caught it anyway. And, moreover, everyone was amazed that he managed to stay on the maddened broom. Malfoy, even more angry and burning with envy, returned to his proven tactics and continued to tease Harry, reminding him and others that he did not have a normal family. He also walked around my family a few times, but after I punched him in the face a couple of times, he calmed down. But Harry was obviously embarrassed to beat the offender, and Malfoy did not let up.

A week ago, Professor McGonagall went through all the courses, making a list of students who would stay at school for the holidays, and I asked to be included in this list. My brothers were also going to stay at Hogwarts — our parents were going to Romania to visit their second son Charlie. Harry stays too. He would have stayed for the summer, but it is forbidden. Should I invite him to join us? By the way, how did the Potters miss him, the heir after all. Although, according to rumors, they left the country after the civil war.

When they came out of the dungeon at the end of the lesson, they found that a huge fir tree had appeared in the corridor from nowhere. However, two giant feet poking out from behind the trunk and loud puffing told us that Hagrid had brought the fir here.

"Hey, Hagrid, do you need any help?" I asked, sticking my head between the branches.

"No, I'm fine, Ron... But thanks anyway," It came from behind the fir tree.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to let me pass," someone spoke from behind, drawing out the words. Of course, it could only be Malfoy.

"And you, Weasley, as I understand it, are trying to earn a little extra money? I assume you plan to stay here as a forester after graduation? After all, Hagrid's cabin is a real palace compared to your parents' house."

The bastard probably hasn't been punched in the face for a long time, we need to update our impressions. I jumped on Malfoy just as Snape appeared in the hallway.

"WEASLEY!"

I reluctantly let go of Malfoy, whom I had already grabbed by the shirt front. Goyle and Creb didn't even flinch. We're already used to figuring out our relationship with each other.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid explained, sticking his head out from behind a tree. "This Malfoy insulted his family, that's it!"

"Maybe, but in any case, fighting is forbidden by school rules, Hagrid," Snape said in an unctuous voice. "Weasley, you're giving your house five demerit points, and you can thank heaven it's not ten. Come on ahead, there's no need to crowd here."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle forcefully pushed past Hagrid and his fir, almost breaking several branches and strewing the floor with needles. And they left, grinning stupidly. By the way, when I fight with the little Malfoy, his friends usually pretend that they are not there. They don't like him.

"I'll get him," I remarked, rubbing my fist, looking at Malfoy's retreating back and gnashing my teeth. "I'll definitely get it one of these days..."

"I hate them both," Harry confessed. "Both Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, guys, cheer up, Christmas is coming soon," Hagrid encouraged us. "I'll tell you what — come with me to the Great Hall, it's so beautiful there now, you'll rock!"

Harry, Hermione, and I followed Hagrid, who was dragging a fir tree, into the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were hanging Christmas decorations there.

"Great, Hagrid, isn't that the last tree?" Professor McGonagall said when she saw the fir tree. "Please put it in the far corner, okay?"

The great hall looked amazing. There were at least a dozen towering fir trees in it: some glittered with frozen icicles, others shone with hundreds of candles attached to the branches. Traditional Christmas wreaths of white mistletoe and holly branches hung on the walls. That's how we started celebrating Muggle holidays four hundred years ago, for the purpose of mimicry with Muggles, and we celebrate. Muggleborns don't know much about magical holidays at all, and we usually celebrate them at home with our doors closed.

"How long do you have left before the holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one day," said Hermione. "Yes, I remembered something. Harry, Ron, we have half an hour before lunch, we need to go to the library."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, barely taking my eyes off Professor Flitwick.

The professor was holding a magic wand, from which golden balls appeared. Obeying Flitwick, they floated up and settled on the branches of the tree Hagrid had just brought. Can he change the color? And the size? I want to be able to do that too. I'll have to come up and ask him how he does it. He's usually willing to share non-combat spells.

"To the library?" Hagrid asked, coming out of the hall with us. "Before the holidays? You're really smart..."

"No, it has nothing to do with classes," Harry said with a smile. "Ever since you mentioned Nicholas Flamel's name, we've been trying to find out who he is."

At the same time, we read everything in a row. I usually take books about combat magic or herbology. Although sometimes I look through potions for the sake of interest.

"What?" Hagrid was shocked. "Er... listen up, I told you to stay out of this, right! You don't care what Fluffy's guarding, or anything!"

"We just want to find out who Nicholas Flamel is, that's all," Hermione explained.

"Unless, of course, you tell us yourself so that we don't waste time," Harry added. "We've already looked through hundreds of books, but we haven't found anything. Can you at least give us a hint of where to read about him? By the way, I've heard that name before, even before you said it..."

"I'm not telling you anything," said Hagrid gloomily.

"So we'll have to find out for ourselves," I concluded, and we parted with a visibly annoyed Hagrid and hurried to the library.

Ever since the day Hagrid mentioned Flamel's name, we've actually looked through a bunch of books in search of him. How else could we find out what Snape was trying to steal? The problem was that we had no idea where to start, and we didn't know what Flamel had become famous for to get into the book. He was not mentioned in the "Great Magicians of the twentieth Century", nor in the "Outstanding Names of Our Era", as well as in the "Important magical Discoveries of recent Times" and "New Directions of magical Sciences". Another problem was the sheer size of the library — thousands of shelves stretched into hundreds of rows, and there were tens of thousands of volumes on them.

Hermione pulled out a list of books from her pocket that she planned to look through, and I walked along the rows, stopping from time to time, randomly pulling out a book on topics of interest to me and starting to leaf through it. Harry wandered off towards the Special Section.

Unfortunately, in order to get into this section, it was necessary to have a permit signed by one of the teachers. No one will give him such permission. And he probably wouldn't have been able to come up with anything very convincing. They're going to kick him out, damn it.

In addition, the books stored in this section were not intended for first-year students at all. These books are dedicated to the higher branches of Dark Magic that were not studied in school. So access to them was open only to teachers and even undergraduates who chose protection from the Dark Forces as their specialization.

Harry apologetically talked to Madame Pince and left the library. We decided a long time ago that we would not contact her with the question of where to find information about Flamel. We were sure she knew the answer. But we didn't want to take any chances — Snape might be nearby, and he shouldn't have known what exactly we were interested in.

We had been trying to find something for two weeks now, but there was no free time, except for the occasional free minute between classes, so it was hardly surprising that we didn't find anything. All we needed was a few hours in the library, and always in the absence of Madame Pince, so that she would not look closely at what we were doing.

As I thought, Pince noticed Harry at the restricted section and kicked him out of the library. Okay, he's not here either. He put the volume back in its place. Hermione quickly flipped through the collected books.

Five minutes later, we left the library, immediately shaking our heads at the sight of Harry. And they all went to lunch together.

"You're going to keep looking for me when I go on vacation, aren't you?" Hermione asked hopefully. "And if you find something, send me an owl right away."

"By the way, you might as well ask your parents if they know who this Flamel is," I said. "They're the parents, so there's no risk..." I would also ask if I had my own owl. Should I take a school card?

"Absolutely nothing," Hermione agreed. "Especially considering that my parents are dentists..."

When the holidays finally started, Harry and I were having too much fun to think about Flamel. There were only two of us left in the bedroom, and there were far fewer people in the common room than there had been during school. That's why we pulled chairs as close to the fireplace as possible and sat there for hours, stringing slices of bread, tortillas and marshmallows brought from the Great Hall onto a long metal fork, toasting them over an open fire and eating with gusto.

Of course, we didn't stop talking for a second, even with our mouths full, because we had a lot to talk about. The main topic, of course, was Malfoy. We came up with dozens of plans to frame Malfoy and get him expelled from school. And it didn't matter that these plans were clearly unfeasible, it was still nice to talk about it.

We also played magic chess, which I started teaching Harry. It was practically the same chess that Muggles played. The only difference was that the figures were alive, and the player felt like a commander directing his troops at the enemy. My chess set was new and well-tuned by small golems. And with full terrain control on the board. Aunt Muriel gave them to me after I learned how to play my grandfather's set properly. I've never had any problems getting the figures to do what I want. Harry was playing with the action figures that Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they obeyed him very badly, completely distrusting the temporary owner. In addition, Harry was not a very good player, and the figures constantly gave him advice, confusing him:

"Don't send me there, don't you see the enemy horse? Better send that one over there, his loss won't make any difference."

Unfortunately, my friend listened to the advice of the figures and everyone around him. Unsurprisingly, he blew a huge bill. Besides, even though I explained to him how to control the pieces, it's quite difficult to do this with someone else's chess. They get attached to a particular host and don't want to listen to others.