Ron-Weasly book 1

Chapter 12. A match with a Halfpipe.

The next day, Harry put the invisibility cloak in his suitcase.

"You see, Dumbledore was right when he said that this mirror could drive you crazy," I stated when Harry told me that he had nightmares. Why are you sitting there hungry? Take your oatmeal and jam and eat.

Hermione, who returned from vacation the day before the start of the semester and to whom Harry and I told absolutely everything — because she was our friend — looked at things differently. She was torn between horror at the thought of Harry wandering around the school for three nights in a row ("Just think what would happen if Filch caught you!" she kept exclaiming) and disappointment that Harry hadn't been able to find out who Nicholas was. Flamel. We had almost given up hope of finding Flamel's name in one of the library books.

To tell the truth, I wasn't really looking for him. That's how I read about the magical world and famous travelers. When the semester started, we started running back to the library between classes and spent ten minutes feverishly flipping through the first books we could find. I became interested in creating potions and antidotes in the field.

Of course, it would have been possible to go to the library after class, but Hermione devoted all her free time to homework and extracurricular reading, and Harry had almost no free time at all because Quidditch practice resumed. I played chess and did my homework. I had to repeat the movements many times with my wand, otherwise it wouldn't work. Damn, I definitely need to buy a new one. Okay, that's a good workout.

* * *

Hermione and I were playing a game of chess when Harry came into the common room. Hermione always knew everything better than the others, but she sometimes lost at chess. And Harry agreed with me that it's very useful for her. She stopped being a nerdy know-it-all for a while and just had fun with us.

"Please wait, don't distract me", I asked, noticing Harry sitting next to me. "I need to concentrate because..."

I looked up at my friend. He looks pale. And his hands are shaking.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked with interest. "You look really creepy."

In a low, calm voice so that no one could hear, Harry told us about Snape's sudden and sinister desire to referee a Quidditch match. He's going to kill him.

"You can't play" Hermione said at once.

"Tell me you're sick." I suggested it.

"Pretend you broke your leg." Hermione asked. And that this is the way out. And there are no complaints about Harry and he will save his life.

"Or really break it." I added it. "I'd rather go to the hospital wing for a day than break you"r neck."

"I can't," Harry admitted. "We don't have a backup seeker. If I don't go out on the field, then the whole team won't come out."

And if he goes out on the field, he'll break his neck!

At that moment, Neville stumbled into the room-literally stumbled in. It was unclear how he managed to get through the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady, because his legs were stuck to one another, as if a special spell had been cast on Neville. He must have had to jump all the way to Gryffindor Tower. Did he forget the cancellation spell?

Everyone burst out laughing, except Hermione, who jumped up to Neville and said the formula to break the spell. Neville's legs flew apart.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, leading him towards us.

"Malfoy," Neville replied in a trembling voice. "I met him in the hallway outside the library. He said he was looking for someone to practice on." And none of the seniors helped him.

"Go to Professor McGonagall immediately!" Hermione nudged him. "And tell me everything as it was!"

Neville shook his head.

"I've had enough trouble." He muttered.

"But you have to do it, Neville!" I was indignant. — He's always trying to trample everyone into the mud, and you get into it yourself and make his job easier!

I was outraged to the core by the behavior of the quiet Neville.

"Don't tell me I'm not brave enough to be a member of Gryffindor." Neville sobbed. "Malfoy has already proved that to me."

Damn, what was the hat thinking about when it placed a typical Halfpenny with us? No, he's not a coward. But he's terribly peaceful.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog, the last one Hermione had sent him for Christmas. He handed the frog to Neville, who looked like he was about to cry.

"You're worth ten Malfoys," said Harry "And you deserve to be in Gryffindor. After all, the Magic Hat itself selected you for our faculty." It would have been better if Neville had gone to Halfpuff, as the hat suggested. And all his grandmother — you have to be like your father. Well, which of the non-confrontational Neville aurors. "Well, where did this Malfoy end up? In a stinking hole called Slytherin, that's where."

Yes, because of the constant clashes with Malfoy, Harry has a very biased attitude towards Slytherins. But they're from the same class. Even I have a better relationship with the nobility of the wizarding world than Potter.

Neville smiled faintly and unwrapped the frog.

"Thank you, Harry," he said gratefully... "Yes, here's the card— you're collecting them, right?"

After watching Neville go, Harry looked down at the card he was holding in his hand.

"Here we go, Dumbledore again," he said. "since he was on my very first ka..."

Harry suddenly stopped talking, staring at the picture in shock. He stared at the card as if he couldn't take his eyes off it, and then he looked up at me and Hermione.

"I found it!" he whispered. "I found Flamel! I told you, I've seen that name before, so it was on the train when I was coming here. Listen up! "...Professor Dumbledore became famous, among other things, for his victory over the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, the discovery of twelve ways to use dragon's blood, and the work on alchemy carried out jointly with his partner Nicholas Flamel..." Harry read it.

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked this excited since we'd received our grades for the very first homework, which Hermione had, of course, done Perfectly.

"Wait here!" — she ordered and rushed to the stairs leading to the girls' bedroom.

Harry and I barely had time to exchange intrigued glances, and Hermione was already returning to the table with a heavy ancient book in her hands.

"It never even occurred to me to look for him here!" She whispered excitedly. But I took it from the library a few weeks ago! Especially to take my mind off my textbooks. For easy reading.

A light one? I asked again. Instead of answering, Hermione advised me to keep quiet until she found what she needed, and began feverishly turning the pages, muttering something under her breath.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "I knew it!"

"Can we talk now?" I asked irritably.

Hermione pretended she hadn't heard the question.

"Nicholas Flamel," she whispered, as if she were an actress performing a dramatic role. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone!"

Her words didn't have the effect she was hoping for on Harry and me.

"The creator of what?" — we asked in one voice.

"Well, that's too much. Don't you read books? Okay, then at least read this piece...."

With my disabled wand, I don't feel like reading at all. I would have time to work out the movements.

Hermione pushed the book towards us.

"The ancient science of alchemy was engaged in the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance endowed with amazing powers. According to legend, the stone could turn any metal into pure gold. It could also be used to make the elixir of life, which made the one who drank this elixir immortal.

Over the centuries, there have been many rumors that the Philosopher's Stone has already been created, but the only stone in existence today belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, an outstanding alchemist and opera fan.

Mr. Flannel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys peace and privacy in Devon with his wife Pernella (six hundred and fifty-eight years old)."

"Do you understand?" Hermione asked when Harry had finished reading with me. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I have no doubt that he asked Dumbledore about it because they are friends and also because Flamel knew that someone was hunting for his stone. That's why he wanted the stone taken away from Gringotts!"

"A stone that turns everything into gold and guarantees you immortality!" Harry exclaimed. "No wonder Snape wants to steal it."

"Anyone would want to have such a stone. And it's not surprising that we couldn't find Flamel's name in "New Directions in Modern Magical Science," I remarked. "You can't call him modern, because he's six hundred and sixty-five years old."

The next morning, in defense against the Dark Arts class, Harry and I were still discussing what we would do with the Philosopher's Stone if we got our hands on it. It was only when I said that I would buy myself a team of Cannon Balls that Harry remembered about Snape and the upcoming match.

"I will definitely play," He stated firmly after the lesson, when we left ZOTI's office. If I don't show up on the field, everyone will think that I'm scared of Snape. I'll show them all... I'll wipe the smiles off their faces-if, of course, we win.

"Unless, of course, someone has to scrape what's left of you off the field", Hermione, who was very worried about Harry, remarked pessimistically.

* * *

The day of the match has arrived. Hermione and I walked Harry to the locker room and left, wishing him luck. We wondered if we would be able to see him alive after the match.

While Harry was changing, Hermione and I found empty seats on the podium and sat next to Neville. He couldn't understand why we looked so gloomy and preoccupied and why we brought our magic wands with us to the game. Harry didn't know that we were secretly practicing Decontamination every day, the same spell that Malfoy had cast on Neville. We came up with this wonderful idea at the same time, just the day Hermione broke Neville's spell. We were ready to cast a curse on Snape at the very moment when it seemed to us for even a moment that he wanted to harm Harry. Snape is an adult wizard and will be able to protect himself from falling, unlike Harry.

"So, don't forget to pronounce "Locomotor Mortis"." Hermione whispered as I tucked my wand into my sleeve.

"I remember," I snapped. "Don't be a bore."

Snape looked annoyed as the teams entered the field. Even I noticed from the podium that Snape was beside himself.

"I've never seen him so angry." I whispered to Hermione. "Look, they're starting. Oh!"

Someone hit me on the back of the head from behind. I turned around. Of course, it turned out to be Malfoy.

"Oh, Weasley, I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

There was a mocking grin on Malfoy's face. Next to him, Goyle and Crabbe were grinning too.

"I wonder how long Potter will be able to stay on the broom this time?" Malfoy asked loudly, knowing that Hermione, Neville, and I could hear him perfectly. "Does anyone want to bet? How about you, Weasley? Although yes, you have nothing to argue about..."

I didn't answer, as I was staring intently at the field where Snape had just punished Gryffindor with a penalty point for George Weasley hitting a bludger in his direction. Hermione, who was sitting with her hands in her lap and all her fingers crossed, was staring at Harry. He circled above the rest of the players, looking around for his Ball.

"I think I've figured out what criteria Gryffindor uses to recruit a Quidditch team." Malfoy loudly declared a few minutes later, when Snape punished Gryffindor with penalty points again, and for absolutely no reason. "Pity is what guides them there. Take Potter, he's an orphan. Take the Weasley twins — they are absolutely penniless. So it's strange that they didn't put you on the team, Longbot, because you don't have any brains at all. Neville blushed deeply, but still found the strength to turn to Malfoy.

"I'm worth a dozen people like you, okay?" He stammered. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle roared with laughter. Neville looked at me uncertainly. I felt his gaze, but I just couldn't take my eyes off what was happening on the field.

"Deal with him yourself, Neville," I whispered.

"You know, Longbot, if brains were made of gold, you'd still be poorer than Weasley, and that's an indicator." Malfoy did not calm down.

I was so worried about Harry that my nerves were strained to the limit.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy." I growled, turning away from the field for a second. "One more word..."

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly. "Look at Harry!.."

Harry suddenly plunged down, beautifully entering a dive, to which the audience reacted with applause, enthusiastic screams and amazed screams. I noticed the Snitch next to Snape. Hermione jumped up from her seat, not understanding what was happening, and Harry was rushing towards the ground like a bullet.

"You're lucky, Weasley, Potter seems to have noticed a small coin on the field!" Malfoy drawled.

I couldn't stand it. And before Malfoy realized what was happening, I was already sitting on top of him, pinning him to the ground and punching him. Neville hesitated for a few moments, and then rushed to my aid.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed. We didn't pay attention to anything, but rolled around the podium, waving our fists. Malfoy punched me in the nose, but I've already punched him in the ribs a couple of times. I twisted around and punched Malfoy in the eye.

The stands exploded with cheers and applause: They had never seen a Snitch caught at the very beginning of a game. It looked like Harry had set a record.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you?! The game is over! Harry won! We won! Gryffindor came out on top!"

Hermione yelled happily, jumping up and down in her seat. We continued to fight until the teachers separated us. Well, it's okay, even though my nose was smashed, Malfoy was hurt worse.

* * *

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione screamed, who was waiting for him at the entrance to the castle with me.

"Victory! You won, we won!" I yelled, slapping Harry on the back. "I gave Malfoy a black eye. And Neville single-handedly attacked Crabbe and Goyle, can you imagine?! He's in the hospital right now, but Madam Pomfrey says he's fine and that he keeps saying he'll show Malfoy and his friends. All of our people are in the tower now, waiting for you to start the celebration. Fred and George snuck into the kitchen and stole several cakes and a bunch of all kinds of food.

"Forget it," Harry whispered almost soundlessly. "Let's find an empty room, I need to tell you something..."