“No,” said Hermione shortly. “Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?”“Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading,” said Ron, but very quietly.”

“I knew it! I knew it! ”“Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.“Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered dramatically, “is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!”This didn’t have quite the effect she’d expected.“The what?” said Harry and Ron.“Oh, honestly, don’t you two read? Look — read that, there.”

“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron.”

“But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.“Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. . . .”“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.”

“What’s that?” said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.“Bouillabaisse,” said Hermione.“Bless you,” said Ron.“It’s French,” said Hermione.”

“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.”