When Harry woke up, the chill in the air was sharper than the day before. The snow had begun to melt. Library. Harry had spread open a massi
When Harry woke up, the chill in the air was sharper than the day before.
The snow had begun to melt.
Library.
Harry had spread open a massive, ancient tome. The parchment pages were dry and brittle, almost like they'd been crafted from leaves.
"Ancient alchemy involved the creation of the Philosopher's Stone—a magical artifact of astonishing power. The Stone could transform any metal into pure gold, and produce the Elixir of Life, allowing its drinker to live forever...
Over the centuries, many accounts of the Philosopher's Stone have emerged. Currently, the only known remaining Stone belongs to the renowned alchemist and opera enthusiast, Nicolas Flamel. He celebrated his 665th birthday last year and now lives in seclusion in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (aged 658)."
This passage was from a chapter on ancient alchemy and its most famous creation—the Philosopher's Stone.
Immortality… a dream humans had pursued for generations.
But through this Stone, that dream might be real.
No wonder Voldemort was so desperate to get his hands on it.
With eternal life, he could rule the wizarding world without fear.
…
Harry found himself in Professor Snape's office.
"What is it now?" Snape asked coldly. No matter how icy or harsh he was, Harry never seemed afraid—and always kept coming back with more questions.
Harry got straight to the point.
"I want to know—if someone has the Philosopher's Stone, how exactly do they achieve immortality?"
Yes, that was why he had come. He didn't buy into the idea that simply soaking the Stone in water could produce eternal life.
Snape, ever the spy, didn't so much as blink hearing one of Hogwarts' greatest secrets fall from Harry's mouth.
"And where did you hear about the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked coolly.
"I read it in a book. I'm curious how it's used. The Elixir of Life can't be made without the Stone, right? But the Stone doesn't get used up?"
Snape snorted.
"There's no such thing as true immortality."
Then, after a pause, he added,
"But yes—the Philosopher's Stone can indefinitely prolong life. To a certain degree… that is immortality."
Harry was stunned. He hadn't expected the Stone's power to be that overwhelming.
If a young person obtained it, wouldn't that mean they'd never age?
"Then why is Nicolas Flamel so old?" he asked quickly.
Snape gave him a withering look.
"He was already old when he obtained the Stone. Naturally, he's remained that way ever since."
"And you… do you know how to use it, Professor?" Harry asked, adding the title with uncharacteristic respect.
He had to. "Sir" wasn't enough—he'd have called him "brother" if it meant learning more.
Whether Snape was willing to teach him, though, was another matter entirely.
Snape glanced at him.
"Of course. It involves a very old alchemical potion—the Stone is its most critical component."
"Do you know how to brew it?"
"So what if I do?" Snape snapped.
"Can I learn?"
"…You can."
Harry blinked. The man had looked so annoyed—and yet agreed so easily.
"Can we start tomorrow?" he blurted out, afraid Snape would change his mind.
"We can. Though I doubt someone like you, with no patience and little intelligence, will last beyond the first step."
Only an idiot would give up, Harry thought indignantly.
After Harry left, Snape sat silently.
He's definitely interested in the Stone, he thought.
But I won't stop him. And I won't be telling that old fox Dumbledore, either.
…
From then on, Harry visited Snape's gloomy dungeon every day. No one knew what they were doing in there. Slowly, Harry's energy was drained.
"I can't believe how complicated this potion is. It's been over ten days, and I've only managed to learn the breakdown of each individual step," Harry muttered. His complexion had paled noticeably.
Hardly surprising—ten straight days in a dark room with no sunlight would bleach anyone.
That evening, Harry went to see Hagrid.
He wanted to confirm something: was it really true that Hagrid's three-headed dog would fall asleep to music?
If he hadn't known in advance, he'd never have believed something so ridiculous.
Naturally, he couldn't ask outright.
As much as Hagrid embodied Merlin's saying—"strong limbs, simple mind"—he could still be shrewd when he needed to be. He wouldn't give up his secrets easily.
So Harry had been preparing a subtle approach.
…
But when he got to Hagrid's hut, he saw the gamekeeper closing the door behind him, holding a lantern and his signature pink umbrella.
"Hagrid!" Harry called.
"Harry!" Hagrid beamed. "But you've come at the wrong time, lad. I was just heading out."
"Where to?" Harry asked, curious.
Hagrid's expression darkened.
"There's trouble in the forest. One unicorn's been killed. Another attacked and badly wounded."
He clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to tear the perpetrator apart.
That was Hagrid for you—fierce protector of magical creatures, especially something as rare and noble as a unicorn.
Harry's heart sank.
It's started. Quirrell has begun.
But… wasn't this supposed to happen near the end of the year?
No—back then, Harry had only found out about it during detention. The incident he'd witnessed wasn't the first; it had already been happening.
So it made sense that Quirrell had begun his hunt last week.
And that meant Voldemort must be incredibly weak… too weak to wait.
"Let me come with you, Hagrid."
"No way. Back to school with you!" Hagrid snapped, eyes narrowing.
"You've got no idea how dangerous the Forbidden Forest is. Dark creatures, werewolves... What's a little elementary schooler like you gonna do?"
Harry was furious.
Elementary schooler? Someone actually called me that?
Back in the day, I was a champion!
People called me "The Strongest Solo Queue Machine King"!
…But that was all in the past. No point boasting to Hagrid about it.
"I've already mastered sixth-year spells," Harry said flatly. "And I've studied quite a bit of Defense Against the Dark Arts too. All I lack is real combat experience."
Hagrid: …
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