𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 1, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 11: 𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

~ chapter eleven: nicholas flamel ~

Dumbledore had convinced us not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stayed folded at the bottom of my trunk. I wished I could forget what I'd seen in the mirror (not the Y/N-and-I-getting-married part, I didn't want to forget that) as easily, but I couldn't. I started having nightmares. Over and over again I dreamed about my parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter, and by the looks of it Y/N wasn't faring any better.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron when I told him about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of us being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that we hadn't at least found out who Nicholas Flamel was.

We'd almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though I had a suspicion that I had read the name somewhere. Once term had started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Y/N and I had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but I was on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. (But I did see where the Weasleys were coming from: sometimes Quidditch practice dragged on for so long that Y/N and I barely found enough time to do our homework.) Quite apart from wanting to win, I found that I had fewer nightmares when I was tired out after training.

Then, one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to Wood to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, I thought, but I had another reason for not wanting Snape near me or Y/N while we were playing Quidditch....

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Y/N and I headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where we found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Ron, Y/N and I thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when I sat down next to him, "I need to concen-" He caught sight of my face, and looked to Y/N to see her face as well. "What's the matter with you two? You both look terrible."

Speaking quietly so no one else would hear, we told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.