A/N: Okay, so, as you may have noticed, since FFN just updated the changes, I've edited chapters 1-10 to get rid of the chapter titles that I realized I forgot to put on, and finally added the line breaks between notes and chapter content on the first couple of chapters, and properly titled the chapters! Now you can go to the chapter selection drop down and see which chapters are which! I'm so pleased!

One of these days I will remember to actually be consistent with things like that, but I don't really think that matters now. This is, after all, just a fanfiction, not a serious work of my own, so it's water under the bridge that I just discovered after posting chapter 14, like, 20 minutes ago for me.

Speaking of work of my own, on my profile, I've listed my Wattpad page, and I've finally finished preparing everything I need to write Chasing Immortality, the first story in my Treehouse series, so if you're curious to see my own original work, feel free to pop over to my Wattpad profile and check out Chasing Immortality! Only the teaser is up right now, because unsurprisingly writing original work instead of fanfiction takes more time and dedication, but chapter one has a title and the first few paragraphs already written!

Anyways, here's chapter fifteen, enjoy! Oh, and if you're looking for a song rec, check out Finally Free on Spotify, for the movie Smallfoot and written by Niall Horan!

Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

"Is every year going to be like this?" Fred sounded eager.

The trio looked at each other and shrugged. "Yeah, probably."

"Wicked."

Sirius held up the book. "So I'm up, then, I take it?"

Met with nodding from most of the group, Sirius flipped the book open to the next chapter. "Chapter eleven." He grinned hugely at the book. "Quidditch."

Now:

There was an air of excitement hanging in the room as Sirius started reading.

"As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"Oh, those are always the best games," James said, grinning.

Murmurs of agreement met this statement.

"If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse—people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress."

"It's a shame they never actually followed through on that," Harry mused. "Would have been really useful third year."

Remus bit his lip to keep himself from laughing.

"What are you talking about?" Molly asked.

"You'll find out later, Mum," Ginny assured her.

"It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping."

Snape groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway."

Lily grit her teeth and tried to fight off a scowl.

James grabbed her hand and squeezed it, whispering something to her that no one else could hear.

""What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape."

"That is not a rule, Severus!" Minerva snapped, pinning her colleague with a fierce stare.

"Maybe not, but it makes up for the fire that is, in fact, against the rules," Snape responded coldly.

""Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly."

Molly gave Ron a stern glance, but otherwise said nothing.

"The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met his eyes."

"What?" Molly asked urgently.

Sirius, reading ahead for the answer, burst out laughing.

"What?" Molly repeated. "What happened?"

"Snape and Filch were inside, alone," Sirius read, struggling to contain his laughter.

"No!" Fred cried, wiping away tears of mirth.

"The horror!" George echoed.

"Shut up!" Snape snapped.

"Snape was holding his robes above his knees," Sirius continued, his face red with amusement, his lips twitching as he struggled to remain calm enough to speak.

"Potter!" Snape said furiously.

Harry, who was having a hard time suppressing his own laughter, said as defensively as he could, "I didn't write this! I didn't even want to read this!"

"I don't think I want to hear much more of this," Ginny said, equal parts amused and horrified.

Even Lily was smiling softly, though she tried to hide it by pressing her face into James's neck.

Minerva, fighting a smile, motioned for Sirius to continue before Snape gave up trying to avoid attention and hexed everyone in the room.

"One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?""

"Wait," Fred said, sobering up at once. "You went to the forbidden third floor? What were you doing there?"

"That would be none of your business, Mr. Weasley," Snape drawled.

"But—"

Sirius cut off Fred's protests quickly. "Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but—

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back.""

James grinned widely. "That's my son!"

Harry felt his face heating up as he bit his lip to hide a smile.

""GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him—he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!""

"I did nothing of the sort," Snape hissed.

"Then who did?" Remus asked.

"You'll find out," Minerva said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Hermione's eyes went wide.

"No—he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

"The sorcerer's stone," Lily mused softly. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind—he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours—but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget."

"I still have nightmares about it," Harry said as nonchalantly as he could, examining his nails.

Neville snickered.

"The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match."

"Oh, that's always a good vibe to walk in to," James said, his gaze distant.

""You've got to eat something."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible."

"What else is new?" Harry muttered.

"In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages."

"Ew," Ginny said, making a face. "Who does that?"

"It's good," Regulus spoke quietly, the ghost of a grin on his face.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting," she muttered.

"By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors."

"It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me," Harry grinned. "Meant a lot. Thanks, guys," he said to Ron, Neville, and Hermione.

They returned his smile with ones of their own.

"Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green)."

"The best color," Draco and Regulus both said. They exchanged glances, looking surprised.

"Wood cleared his throat for silence."

"Okay, men," Fred said, sitting straight up.

"And women," George added, also drawing himself upright.

"This is it," Harry continued.

"The big one," George said.

"The one we've all been waiting for." Fred placed a hand over his heart and grinned.

Sirius gave the three an amused look before continuing. ""Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year.""

Percy rolled his eyes.

""Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win, I know it."

He glared at them as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her."

"Too bad that'll never happen," George said, his tone now bitter as he glared at Draco.

"Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver."

Hermione beamed.

""Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall."

"A feeling I remember well," said Remus.

Minerva bit back a smile.

""And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to sc—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Woof and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on, now Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!""

Forgetting himself for a moment, James cheered.

"Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them."

"Wait, what?" Neville asked.

Sirius skimmed the next page quickly. "I think the author switch points of view," he explained.

"Oh," Neville said. "Why?"

"Not a clue."

Hermione, however, was shrinking back into the couch with a very good idea as to why.

""Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be.""

"That's a good strategy," James mused.

"When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it."

"Wait, how'd you know that was me?" Fred asked.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out," Harry said.

""All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherins in possession," Le Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear."

"Idiot."

"Oh, like you never once did that, James," Remus sniggered.

"I never did!"

"Uh huh, sure."

"Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs—he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead—he put on an extra spurt of speed—

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below—Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life."

"It wasn't that bad," Harry said hastily.

"It was certainly much better than what happened next," said Minerva.

"What happened next?" Lily asked, sitting forward.

Sirius started reading in answer. ""Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air,"

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.""

James was grinning. "Sounds like a good team," he said. "I bet you guys won the cup, huh?"

The Gryffindors stayed silent and avoided eye contact with him after that.

"It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened."

"That what happened?" Remus asked.

"I was just getting to that," Sirius said irritably. "His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that."

"What?" James sat forward. "That shouldn't be happening, it's a brand new broom. What's happening?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "If you let me read, I'm sure you'd find out."

"Right."

"It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts—he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out—and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him."

"What the hell?" Remus said.

"Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score—oh no…"

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's"Dun broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went."

Molly was worrying her lip, staring at the book with growing concern.

""Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom…but he can't have…."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.

His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand."

"Oh, god," Lily muttered, her eyes blown wide with panic.

"It was one of the scariest things I'd ever seen," Hermione admitted quietly.

""Did something happen when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic—no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape—look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath."

Sirius stopped reading and turned slowly to look at Snape.

"I am not the one jinxing his broom," Snape said slowly and clearly.

"What exactly are you doing then?" James demanded.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Trying to perform the counter-curse, Potter."

James studied Snape for a moment, searching for any measure of deception. When he could find none, he narrowed his eyes at Snape, but sat back.

Sirius took this as a sign to keep reading, and so he did, in hopes that the book would provide the answers that no one was willing to give.

""He's doing something—jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me.""

"Oh," Hermione said suddenly. "Oh, no."

"Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good—every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes."

The room went deadly silent.

Hermione shrunk backwards into her spot on the couch.

Snape faced her with an icy look. "Ms. Granger—"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, "she meant no harm. There is no need for this."

"She set me on fire," Snape bit out.

"I thought you were trying to kill Harry!" Hermione squeaked.

Snape growled and opened his mouth to respond that he wasn't, in fact, trying to kill Potter, but Dumbledore met his eyes with a look, and his mouth fell shut.

"Sirius, if you would continue," Dumbledore said.

"It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row—Snape would never know what had happened."

"I do now," he hissed furiously.

"Man, he's really going to hate reading the next book," Ron whispered to Hermione.

She gave him a confused look.

"The Polyjuice potion," said Ron lowly.

Hermione paled. "Oh no."

"It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes."

Neville shot Hagrid an apologetic smile.

"Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand."

"No way," James said.

""I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion."

James doubled over laughing. "Incredible," he gasped out. "Absolutely incredible. I'm so proud!"

Sirius snorted. "S'unfortunate that we never got to see that," he said.

"Well, we could," Molly spoke up. "This…place, whatever it is, seems to provide us with whatever we need. I bet we could get a Pensieve to look at memories."

"That sounds like a great idea, Molly." Remus nodded at the woman.

"In that case, let's get this book over with," Sirius said. ""He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you.""

Snape ground his teeth.

""Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said."

"Fluffy?" Molly asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"Er—" Hagrid scratched his neck awkwardly. This wasn't going to be good at all.

""Fluffy?"

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Hagrid," Remus groaned.

""Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione."

"I didn't," Snape hissed again.

"The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!""

"You need to keep eye contact for counter curses, too," Snape said furiously, forgetting himself for a moment.

Hermione turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

""I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh—yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself."

Sirius closed the book and waved it in Regulus's face.

Regulus rolled his eyes and snagged the book from his older brother's hands.

"So is that what got you looking into this?" Minerva asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

They nodded.

Minerva turned her attention to Hagrid, who was trying to hide a furiously embarrassed look.

"Shall I start?" Regulus asked. He didn't wait for an answer, opening the book back up. "Chapter twelve, The Mirror of Erised…."

A/N: I almost started typing the lyrics to Ghost of You here instead of my thoughts, because Youngblood is on shuffle—who is surprised by this, really—and it just started playing and it's one of the songs on the album that I've memorized and that I often wake up to having stuck in my head, so uh, that's an interesting thing.

Well, that's chapter fifteen! And if you're wondering about reviews, I am seeing them and the responses have made me so insanely happy. So many of you are happy about this story and it thrills me. I love hearing from you guys!

And I have decided that I hate writing filler chapters, so there will be no more filler chapters for the duration of the Sorcerer's Stone. That doesn't mean the stuff I had planned for filler chapters won't happen, they'll just happen later. At some point. Which means that, if I keep going the way I have been with this since I got back to it, Sorcerer's Stone could be finished by the end of the month! I make no promises, though. Hopes, yes. But no promises.

As always, thank you for reading, and on we go!

Signing out for now,

WolfMist