The Philosopher's Stone and the Map Chamber

That afternoon, word that Harry had been exceptionally admitted to the House Quidditch team spread throughout the entire school.

Even the ghosts drifting through the corridors were talking about it, let alone the other students.

"A Seeker?" Ron forgot to stuff his pie into his mouth, staring in shock. "But first-years never— You must be the youngest House team player in years."

"In a century," Harry replied with a smile, adding, "That's what Wood told me."

During the six years of his previous enrollment, forget playing Quidditch—even watching the school matches had been impossible.

He had heard that a student had fallen from a broomstick a few years ago, and Headmaster Black had used the incident as an excuse to suspend the school's Quidditch sport.

Not only did the students curse him fiercely in private, but even the ghosts gossiped about him behind his back. They had even composed a song "praising" Headmaster Black's "glorious achievements."

Ron nodded in understanding. After all, his good buddy had done more than just catch the ball—he had also been clutching a heavy Malfoy under his arm.

"My training starts next week." Harry lifted his glass of juice and clinked it against Ron's. "By the way, did Malfoy say anything after I left?"

"Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood, and Hermione used Clean-up to wash out his mouth, just like you did." Ron answered animatedly.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley entered the dining hall. The moment they spotted Harry, they hurried over.

"Nice one, Harry," George said in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the House team too—we're Chasers. Our job is to make sure you don't get beaten up too badly."

"I'm telling you, we're definitely taking the Quidditch Cup this year," Fred said. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year, our team is going to shine. You're bound to be brilliant, Harry. When Wood told us about it, he was so excited he could barely speak—in Quidditch, he's as strict as a miniature Professor McGonagall. We're willing to trust his judgment."

"But we have to go. Lee Jordan thinks he's found a new secret passage that leads outside the school."

George quickly added, "I bet it's the passage behind the Gregory the Smarmy statue. We found it during our first week here—see you."

"Honestly," Harry said to Ron after the Twins had left, "even after knowing them this long, I still can't tell which one is Fred and which one is George..."

"To be honest, neither can I." Ron spread his hands.

Hermione sat down beside them then, clutching a thick old book that looked nearly as large as her upper body.

"Merlin, what's that?" Ron asked in amazement.

"Something to do after meals." Hermione slammed the book onto the table with a bang.

"You call that entertainment?" Ron asked dryly.

Hermione shot him a stern look, and Ron sensibly shut his mouth.

"Honestly," Ron said, turning to look at Draco, who was chatting and laughing with Crabbe and Goyle, "wasn't the flying lesson enough of a lesson? I think Malfoy needs to be taught a proper lesson."

At the mention of Malfoy's name, Harry's previously good mood suddenly soured.

If Cassandra knew that one of her descendants was such a bastard, she'd probably cast an Unforgivable Curse right in his face on the spot, wouldn't she?

That thought made him feel even worse, and his mind filled with the Map Chamber he could not enter.

He was certain there had to be clues inside the Map Chamber.

But he was only eleven. Did he really have to wait four years, until he turned fifteen and awakened Ancient Magic, before he could enter the Map Chamber?

"Look." Ron picked up a newspaper nearby. "The Daily Prophet is still publishing statements from the Gringotts Goblins. They're still claiming Gringotts is the safest place there is."

Gringotts?

Harry suddenly remembered that when he had accompanied Hagrid to retrieve that little package, it had clearly given off the aura of Ancient Magic.

His instincts had told him then that, with that object's help, Ancient Magic's age restriction would no longer be a problem.

But...

Harry still hesitated. After all, it belonged to the Headmaster, and it looked extremely valuable. How could he persuade the Headmaster to let him borrow it?

Early the next morning, not long after Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall and sat down at the table, the owl post flew in.

Harry noticed four or five owls circling overhead with a long, narrow package clutched in their talons. After circling for a while, they landed directly in front of him.

"Ah, my chicken leg!" Ron cried out in anguish as the package knocked his chicken leg onto the floor.

Then the package caught his attention.

"What is this?"

"Buddy, help me unwrap the package. I'll read this letter." Harry said to Ron.

With that, he opened the letter.

"Do not open the package on the table. It contains your new Flying Broomstick—a Nimbus 2000. I do not want everyone to know that you have received a new broom, or they will all want one."

"Oliver Wood will be waiting for you at the Quidditch pitch at seven tonight to give you your first training lesson. Minerva McGonagall"

Harry lowered the letter and tried to stop Ron from opening the package, but he was too late.

Ron had already torn open the broom's wrapping, revealing the brand-new Nimbus 2000 inside.

"Wow, Buddy!" Ron exclaimed in awe. "That's a Nimbus 2000! Did you buy it?"

Beside him, Wood stood with his mouth open, his face full of envy.

Wood had naturally guessed that Professor McGonagall had given it to him, but he could not say anything. Harry was not only a Seeker, who needed speed and demanded more from a broom's performance, but his family circumstances probably were not very good either.

Still, that did not stop him from being jealous. He truly was jealous! Harry was only a first-year—meaning he could use that Nimbus 2000 for at least seven years!!!

"Remember to come train with me tonight." Wood collected himself. After all, he was a seasoned fifth-year; he was not about to envy a first-year child. "Professor McGonagall has already told me to train you urgently so we can defeat Slytherin in the next match. She told you, didn't she? After they lost badly to Slytherin last year, she avoided Professor Snape for quite a while whenever she saw him."

"I will." Harry nodded seriously.

If there was one thing he had wanted most during those six years at Hogwarts, it was Quidditch, which Headmaster Black had banned.

Black, you've done every evil thing imaginable!