The philosopher's stone/Hermione X Male reader.

Nicolas Flamel

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since me, 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 four of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured us up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. I noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, me, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; we were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about our 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.

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

"He's just made that rule up," Hermione muttered angrily as Snape limped away.

"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" Harry asked.

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

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, me, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking our Charms homework for us. She would never let us copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, we 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 I be afraid of Snape? Getting up, I told them I was going to ask Snape if I could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together but I had an idea.

I made my way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. I pushed the door ajar and peered inside – and a horrible scene met my eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. 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 one?"

I tried to shut the door quietly, but –

"L/N!"

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

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

He threw me the book and said "GET OUT! OUT!"

I sprinted back upstairs.

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

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

"You know what this means?" Harry started. "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!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No – he wouldn't," Hermione said. "I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Hermione, it's Snape," Harry said as if that explained it all.

"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 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.

"You've got to eat some breakfast," Ron said, pouring syrup on Harry's waffles.

"I don't want anything."

"Harry, you've got to eat something,"  I said, taking a bite from a sausage.

"I'm not hungry.

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"No, thank you."

"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.

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

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. She seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. 

"Mount your broomsticks, 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.

"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 Wood 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!"

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

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron, Hermione, and I squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join us.

"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 us, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. 

"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."

"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.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee 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.

Harry 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.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts 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, red! Red card!"

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

"Red card!" said Dean furiously.