The real Herry Potter

Despite the stunning victory over Slytherin, Oliver Wood was relentless. The very next morning, before the celebrations from the night before had fully worn off, he was back to business. There was no rest for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Alright, team!" Oliver barked, as they gathered at the Quidditch pitch at dawn. "We may have beaten Slytherin, but this is only the beginning. Our next match is against Ravenclaw, and we need to be even better."

Harry, still sore from the previous day's game, could barely keep up as Oliver launched into an intense training session. Fred and George grumbled under their breath, but they too got into formation, chasing after bludgers with renewed determination.

"We just won!" Fred muttered to George. "Can't he give us at least a day off?"

"Apparently not," George replied, smirking. "Wood's dream of winning the Quidditch Cup is stronger than ever."

Harry, who had barely recovered from his hospital wing visit, found himself flying loop after loop, practicing dives, and staying alert for any mention of the Golden Snitch. Despite his exhaustion, he knew Oliver was right. Gryffindor had a real shot at the cup this year, and the only way to ensure victory was by being prepared.

But it wasn't easy. Between the exhausting practices, classes, and homework, Harry had even less time for his personal experiments or to investigate the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone. His schedule was packed, and he felt like he barely had time to breathe.

The Order of the Stars, too, was growing restless. Theodore Nott and the others were eager to dig deeper into the stone's secrets, especially after Daphne had revealed who Nicolas Flamel really was. But with Oliver's demanding training schedule, Harry found it harder to sneak away for their secret meetings.

Ever since receiving his father's Invisibility Cloak from Dumbledore as a mysterious Christmas gift, Harry's nighttime explorations had become much smoother and more daring. The cloak made him practically invisible, allowing him to sneak around Hogwarts without fear of being caught by Filch or the professors. But even with the cloak, Harry had taken extra precautions. His secret weapon was the peculiar lamp he had acquired in Knockturn Alley, a magical artifact known as the Thief's Hand.

The lamp was small, unassuming, and perfect for stealth. Its enchantment was unique: the light it produced was only visible to the person holding it, while to everyone else, Harry remained cloaked in darkness. The Thief's Hand made him nearly undetectable during his nightly escapades. Now, he could roam the corridors, the grounds, and even the more hidden passages of Hogwarts with ease.

Harry's secret base was close enough to Gryffindor Tower that he could slip out, work on his private experiments, and return without anyone suspecting a thing. But his thoughts were increasingly consumed by a greater quest: the hunt for Godric Gryffindor's legendary vault.

And so, Harry wandered the corridors of Hogwarts by night, the cloak draped around him, the Thief's Hand lighting his way. He explored forgotten hallways and peered behind old tapestries, hoping to find a clue—anything that might lead him to his goal. The castle was vast, and the search was slow, but Harry was persistent. He felt as though he was getting closer, each night bringing him a little more understanding of the labyrinthine nature of the castle's architecture.

There were times when he had to abandon his exploration, hearing distant footsteps echoing through the corridors. On more than one occasion, he had narrowly avoided Filch or a patrolling professor. But with the Invisibility Cloak and the Thief's Hand, he always managed to stay one step ahead.

Harry knew he was racing against time. Between Quidditch practice, the looming danger of the Philosopher's Stone, and his classes, there was no telling how long he had before someone else stumbled upon the secrets he was after. But he was determined. Godric Gryffindor's vault was out there somewhere—and Harry Potter was going to find it.

One evening, Harry found himself creeping through the dungeons of Hogwarts, in search of Godric Gryffindor's elusive vault. Covered from head to toe in his Invisibility Cloak, he moved silently, careful to avoid drawing attention. The dungeons were not a place for a Gryffindor like him, especially one as well-known—and often despised—by the Slytherins. To be caught wandering near their common room would bring trouble, and Harry knew he had to be even more cautious here than in other parts of the castle.

As he made his way deeper into the dark, cold halls, he suddenly heard voices. He froze. His heart raced as he cautiously followed the sounds to a dimly lit alcove. Peeking out from behind a stone pillar, he spotted Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell in a heated conversation. From where he stood, hidden beneath his cloak, Harry could see the tense look on Quirrell's face, his nervous stammering barely masking his fear.

Snape, tall and imposing, loomed over the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, his voice sharp and cutting.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," Snape said in a low, dangerous tone. "I know you're into something—something about the protections on the Stone. How far do you know about the enchantments guarding it?"

Quirrell, pale and trembling, stammered, "I—I don't kn-know what y-you're talking about, S-Snape…"

But Snape wasn't buying it. He leaned in closer, his black eyes narrowing. "Don't lie to me. I've seen you near the Forbidden Corridor. You know something. Don't think you can fool me, Quirrell. I've been in this game far longer than you."

Harry, who had been watching in stunned silence, felt a surge of anger and fear. It was clear that Snape was threatening Quirrell—bullying him into revealing information about the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry's suspicions were confirmed: Snape was after the Stone. He was trying to force Quirrell into helping him get past the protections.

Harry's mind raced. He had to tell the club members about this. Snape wasn't just a menace to students—he was after something far more dangerous. And Harry was certain that if Snape got his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone, nothing good would come of it.

Quirrell's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. "I d-don't kn-know anything, I swear!" he squeaked, his face shiny with sweat. "P-please, Snape, y-you're making a mistake."

Snape straightened up, sneering. "We'll see about that," he said coldly, before turning on his heel and sweeping away down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him.

Quirrell stood there for a moment, trembling, before hurrying off in the opposite direction. Harry remained frozen in place, his mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. He had no doubt now—Snape was after the Stone, and he wasn't going to stop until he had it.

Once the coast was clear, Harry carefully retraced his steps, making his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind filled with questions and a growing sense of urgency. He needed to warn his friends. The stakes were higher than they had ever imagined.

On the following Sunday, the members of the Order of the Star gathered at their secret clubhouse deep within the castle's unused corridors. Their broomstick project was progressing steadily, but now there was a new urgency to their efforts. With the end of the school year approaching, everyone was determined to have their prototype ready for testing. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and the sounds of excited chatter and the scratching of quills filled the air as they worked on finalizing their designs.

Harry, who had been helping Tracy Davis enchant a stabilizing charm on one of the broomsticks, felt the weight of the conversation he had overheard in the dungeons pressing on him. He hadn't yet told the others about Snape and Quirrell's confrontation, but now seemed like the right time. As they took a short break to discuss their progress, Harry cleared his throat.

"Listen, everyone," Harry began, his voice serious. "There's something I need to tell you all. It's about Snape and Professor Quirrell."

The group turned to him, their interest piqued. Daphne Greengrass, who had been meticulously carving a new handle for one of the brooms, raised an eyebrow. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry took a breath, making sure not to mention how he had witnessed the conversation. "A few days ago, I overheard a conversation between Snape and Quirrell. Snape was threatening him—asking about the protections on the Sorcerer's Stone. He's definitely up to something, and it seemed like he was trying to force Quirrell to help him get to the Stone."

There was a moment of silence as the information sunk in. The members exchanged glances, their faces growing serious. Tracey Davis put down the enchanted broom handle she'd been holding. "Are you sure about this, Harry? Snape is—"

"I'm sure," Harry interrupted. "I saw it with my own eyes. Quirrell was scared, really scared, and Snape was pressuring him for answers. I didn't catch everything, but I'm almost certain that Snape wants to steal the Stone."

Daphne folded her arms, her brow furrowed in thought. "If what you're saying is true, then that means Snape could be working against Dumbledore. And if he's after the Stone, that's bad news for all of us."

Blaise Zabini leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp with curiosity. "But why would Snape want the Stone? He's already got a good position here. I don't see why he'd risk it all."

"Power," Theodore Nott chimed in, his voice quiet but thoughtful. "The Sorcerer's Stone can make someone immortal. It could give Snape more power than he could ever have as a professor."

Harry nodded. "That's what I was thinking too. We know the Stone's being protected here at Hogwarts, and whatever Snape's planning, it's not good."

The room grew tense as the group digested the news. They had already been suspicious of Snape, but hearing about the confrontation confirmed their worst fears.

"Well," Tracey finally said, breaking the silence, "it sounds like we've got more than just a broomstick to worry about. If Snape's after the Stone, we need to be careful."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "We can't let him find out we're onto him. If Snape's dangerous, then we're all at risk."

"But we're not backing down," Harry said firmly. "We'll keep working on the broomstick project, but we have to stay alert. The Stone might be in danger, and we need to be ready."

With that, the group returned to their work, though the mood in the clubhouse was more somber than before. Their project was important, but now they knew they had to keep an eye on Snape as well. Harry didn't mention the Invisibility Cloak—it was a secret he intended to keep for now. But as they continued their work, the knowledge of what Snape might be plotting hung over them like a shadow.

As the group worked on their broomsticks, the atmosphere in the clubhouse had lightened once more, this time filled with laughter and the click of Harry's camera. The gift from Remus had quickly become a beloved item, and Harry, who had become quite adept at using it, began documenting their efforts. At first, he snapped photos of the broomsticks they were perfecting, capturing the magical blueprints, the enchantments, and the small moments of triumph. But soon enough, it wasn't just the broomsticks Harry was photographing—it was the members of the Order of the Star.

Harry smiled as he took candid shots of Susan concentrating on a charm, Hannah adjusting a broom handle, and Theodore holding a broom aloft as if testing its balance. Soon, the others caught on, and it wasn't long before everyone took turns with the camera, capturing moments of each other in action. Even Harry, who preferred being behind the lens, was urged to step in front of the camera.

"We need a group photo!" Tracey exclaimed, grinning as she set up the camera on a timer. The group gathered around a half-finished broomstick, laughing and elbowing each other as they waited for the click. The flash went off, and just like that, they had their first club photo together.

Harry, who had learned how to make magical copies of photos, decided to decorate the walls of their secret clubhouse with large, animated versions of their achievements. He enlarged a group photo and placed it near the entrance of the room, where it would remind them of their camaraderie every time they walked in. A series of smaller photos followed: Padma holding a broom mid-enchantment, Blaise checking a blueprint, and Daphne laughing as she held a hammer in her hand. They were little moments frozen in time, magical snapshots of their shared journey.

Though Harry was keen to keep the broomstick project secret, he agreed to share the group and individual photos with the others. Copies were made, and soon enough, many of the Order members were sending the pictures home to their families. For the first time, their parents could see just how much fun their children were having at Hogwarts, and they could witness the friendships their children had formed. Of course, the fact that their children were friends with the Harry Potter added an extra layer of excitement.

"Are you sure you don't want to send any home yourself?" Tracey asked Harry, holding up a copy of a photo that showed him intently working on a broomstick.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I'll keep them here for now. The project's secret, remember?"

She nodded but gave him a knowing look. "Well, you're always welcome in front of the camera with us."

Harry appreciated the gesture, and as the group wrapped up for the day, he stored the broomstick photos safely in his trunk. The other photos, the ones that captured their laughter and the bond they shared, were a different story. Those, he happily shared with everyone.

And so, with each new day, the clubhouse walls became a little brighter, adorned with memories of their efforts, their successes, and their friendship. The Order of the Star was more than just a secret club—it was becoming a second family. And Harry, for the first time in a long time, felt like he truly belonged.