Dawn Rivera

Nicolas Flamel

Me and Hermione, who get back before term starts, take a different view of things. We are torn between the horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row, and disappointment that he hasn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel is.

We have almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry is still sure he's read the name somewhere. Once term has started, we are back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Harry has even less time than us three, because Quidditch practice has started again.

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Me and Hermione are playing Ron at chess. Chess is the only thing me and Hermione ever loose at, something Harry and Ron think is very good for us.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," says Ron when Harry sits down next to him. "I need to concern-" He catches sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else will hear, Harry tells us three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," I say at once.

"Say you're ill," says Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggests.

"Really break your leg," says Ron.

"I can't," says Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville topples into the common room. How he has managed to clamber through the portrait hole is anyone's guess, because his legs have been stuck together with what we recognise at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

I gasp as everyone falls over laughing except Hermione and me, who leap up and perform the countercurse. Neville's legs spring apart and he gets to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" I ask him, me and Hermione leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron. When he sits down, I sit closely beside him, looking at him worriedly.

"Malfoy," says Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urges Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shakes his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbles.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" says Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier." I glare at Ron. Who's he to tell Neville what to do?

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville chokes out. I gasp again and hug Neville tightly. When we pull away and I glance at the others, Ron looks like he is fighting an inside battle with himself. Does he like me? No. I push that thought quickly away. Besides, I have Neville.

Harry feels in the pocket of his robes and pulls out a chocolate frog, the very last one from the box Hermione gave him for Christmas. He gives it to Neville, who looks as if he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry says. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitch into a weak smile as he unwraps the frog.

"Thanks, Harry...I think I'll go to bed...D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

Neville leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek before pulling away and smiling at me. "See you in the morning, Dawn."