THE MIRROR OF ERISED
“Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me — Harry,
Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the li-
brary.”
“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
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