NICHOLAS FLAMEL
Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another rea-
son for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quid-
ditch. . . .
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at
the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryf-
findor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing
chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something
Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.
“Don’t talk to me for a moment,” said Ron when Harry sat
down next to him, “I need to concen-” He caught sight of
Harry’s face. “What’s the matter with you? You look terrible.”
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the
other two about Snape’s sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch
referee.
“Don’t play,” said Hermione at once.
“Say you’re ill,” said Ron.
“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested.
“Really break your leg,” said Ron.
“I can’t,” said Harry. “There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out,
Gryffindor can’t play at all.”
At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How
he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone’s
guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they
recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to
bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.
Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and
performed the countercurse. Neville’s legs sprang apart and he got
to his feet, trembling.
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