[17] FINALLY!

                                    

                                          
It seems Dumbledore's words had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. 
                          
I knew Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. I was beginning to have the same nightmares that Harry had. That's what happens when your mind is linked to others. Over and over again Harry and I dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter. It sounded almost familiar... 
                          
"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," Ron said, when Harry told him and me about these dreams. I kept my mouth shut about sharing them, I didn't want Harry to feel worse than he already was. 
                          
Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry (not to mention me, too) being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that Harry hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.
                          
We had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry said he was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Harry and I had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.
                          
Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. My older twin brothers complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry and I were on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. 
                          
Quite apart from wanting to win, I figured out that Harry (and me) had fewer nightmares when we were tired out after training.
                          
Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with Fred and George, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
                          
"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"
                          
George really did fall off his broom at these words.
                          
"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."
                          
The rest of the team, including Harry and I, landed next to George to complain, too.
                          
"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."
                          
Which was all very well, but Harry and I had another reason for not wanting Snape near us while we were playing Quidditch....
                          
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and me headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where we 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. I felt sorry that the boys kept beating her, but I had to agree with them that she should know that she can't do everything. Even though she nearly does.
                          
"Don't talk to me for a moment," Ron said when Harry and I sat down next to him, "I need to concen --" He caught sight of Harry's and my face. "What's the matter with you two? You look terrible."
                          
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry and I told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.
                          
"Don't play," Hermione said at once.