NICHOLAS FLAMEL
“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione squeaked.
“We won! You won! We won!” shouted Ron, thumping Harry
on the back. “And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to
take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He’s still out cold but
Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be all right — talk about showing
Slytherin! Everyone’s waiting for you in the common room, we’re
having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from
the kitchens.”
“Never mind that now,” said Harry breathlessly. “Let’s find an
empty room, you wait ’til you hear this. . . .”
He made sure Peeves wasn’t inside before shutting the door be-
hind them, then he told them what he’d seen and heard.
“So we were right, it is the Sorcerer’s Stone, and Snape’s trying to
force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get
past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell’s ‘hocus-
pocus’ — I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart
from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would
have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break
through —”
“So you mean the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up
to Snape?” said Hermione in alarm.
“It’ll be gone by next Tuesday,” said Ron.
227