«I've got the Snitch!» he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.
«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.»
«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?»
«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
«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.
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!»
«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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MIRROR OF ERISED
Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.
No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
«I do feel so sorry,» said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, «for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home.»
He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.
It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
«Hi, Hagrid, want any help?» Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
«Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron.»
«Would you mind moving out of the way?» came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. «Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose—that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to.»
Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
«WEASLEY!»
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.
«He was provoked, Professor Snape,» said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. «Malfoy was insultin' his family.»
«Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,» said Snape silkily. «Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you.»
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
«I'll get him,» said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, «one of these days, I'll get him —»
«I hate them both,» said Harry, «Malfoy and Snape.»
«Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas,» said Hagrid. «Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat.»
So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.
«Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?»
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.
«How many days you got left until yer holidays?» Hagrid asked.
«Just one,» said Hermione. «And that reminds me -Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.»
«Oh yeah, you're right,» said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.
«The library?» said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. «Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?»
«Oh, we're not working,» Harry told him brightly. «Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is.»
«You what?» Hagrid looked shocked. «Listen here—I've told yeh—drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'.»
«We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all,» said Hermione.
«Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?» Harry added. «We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I've read his name somewhere.»
«I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.
«Just have to find out for ourselves, then,» said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.
«What are you looking for, boy?»
«Nothing,» said Harry.
Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.
«You'd better get out, then. Go on—out!»
Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.
Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.