Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

'Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?' Seamus whispered.

'Can't have,' Hagrid said, his voice shaking. 'Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand.'

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

'What are you doing?' moaned Ron, grey-faced.

'I knew it,' Hermione gasped. 'Snape look.'

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

'He's doing something jinxing the broom,' said Hermione.

'What should we do?'

'Leave it to me.'

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd were on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

'Come on, Hermione,' Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand and whispered a few, well chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand on to the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realise that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket she scrambled back along the row Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

'Neville, you can look!' Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding towards the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick he hit the pitch on all fours coughed and something gold fell into his hand.

'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 result 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 each other, 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 at Hallowe'en. 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 any more,' 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 post 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 draughty 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 Slytherin 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 realised 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 round 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 Malfoy's 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 Harry, Ron and Hermione 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 fewer 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 Defence 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 a fortnight, after all, 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.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

'You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?' said Hermione. 'And send me an owl if you find anything.'

'And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,' said Ron. 'It'd be safe to ask them.'

'Very safe, as they're both dentists,' said Hermione.

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork bread, crumpets, marshmallows and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing: 'Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.'

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early next morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

'Happy Christmas,' said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his dressing-gown.

'You too,' said Harry. 'Will you look at this? I've got some presents!'

'What did you expect, turnips?' said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Sellotaped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

'That's friendly,' said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.