Suspicions and Strategies
"Are you really not interested in knowing what's under the trapdoor, behind that enormous dog?" Daphne asked, her eyes shining intensely as she leaned over the table.
"Honestly, no," Draco said calmly, as if they were discussing the weather.
"Curiosity killed the cat," Harry muttered, resting his elbow on the table and rubbing his temple.
"I don't want to get punished again. We already lost points for the first time," Hermione protested, crossing her arms sternly.
"Oh, come on. We earned those points ourselves anyway," Daphne insisted with an irritated gesture, leaning back against the wooden surface.
"Then... how about we try to figure it out?" Harry proposed with a smile that carried a hint of a challenge.
Hermione, who at first had seemed determined to refuse, couldn't resist. She pulled a small notebook from her robe and snapped it open.
"Sounds interesting. Detective mode," Daphne declared, half amused and half serious.
"Let's start by going over all the information we have. No... better yet, let's go further back. From the moment we received our Hogwarts letters. Or even earlier. News from the wizarding world," Harry said, his voice growing steadier.
"All right, let's see..." Draco narrowed his eyes, thinking. "A wizard appeared who was hunting dark wizards. They said he was imitating the Vigilante from years ago. The Aurors surrounded him, but in the end he escaped."
"A shop in Knockturn Alley was burned down," Daphne added.
"Dragons behaving strangely on farms across Europe," Hermione chimed in as she scribbled notes.
"And the Gringotts robbery," Harry said gravely. "According to the Prophet, there was nothing in that vault. But even so, the thieves went straight there. As if they knew that until shortly before, it had contained something."
"That means they were after something specific. Something the owners had already removed before they got there," Hermione reasoned, biting the end of her quill.
"It could be a connection. Let's just put it down as a possibility," Draco conceded, nodding slowly.
"And," Harry continued, squinting slightly, "Dumbledore's warning was strange. If he really wanted to hide something important, he would have kept it with him. After all, he's supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive. And he doesn't mind everyone knowing it."
"Unless the warning was a trap," Daphne interjected quickly.
"A trap... among the students?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"It's possible he expects those who act as spies for their parents to send them information," Draco explained, casting a meaningful look over at the Slytherin table, where Carrow and his friends were whispering.
"Makes sense," Hermione conceded, frowning. "Announcing to everyone that the third floor is forbidden this year... that's exactly the kind of provocation that would attract attention. And there was no real need to guard anything with such a dangerous creature in the middle of the school, unless he wanted to tempt the curious. But that would put students at risk."
"We can't judge the wizarding world as if it were ours," Harry said seriously, sounding almost tired. "Remember the inconsistencies we've seen. And how... ridiculous they can be, sometimes."
"I can't say anything to defend them," Daphne sighed. Draco shook his head.
"In summary," Hermione said as she reviewed her notes, "the information suggests that whatever it is was at Gringotts. And Dumbledore brought it here... maybe as part of a plan to draw someone out. Even if it means endangering the students."
At that moment, Harry lifted a hand to his scar—which was no longer there—as if some dormant memory were trying to surface.
"Voldemort," he whispered suddenly, his voice so low it sent a chill across the table. Draco and Daphne flinched, glancing around nervously in case anyone was listening.
"Don't say that name! You'll scare everyone," Daphne hissed, alarmed.
"Sorry... but it's Voldemort," Harry insisted, lowering his voice even more. "My mother told me that part of that man's soul was trapped in my forehead for years."
"What?" the three of them exclaimed in unison.
"What does that mean?" Daphne asked, not fully understanding.
"I don't know all the details," Harry admitted quickly. "But at Potter Manor I read about ancient wizards who tried to become immortal by splitting their souls. None of them ever succeeded. Except... you know who. The clue to his survival was stuck to me all this time."
"Are you saying he could still be alive?" Daphne asked, her voice trembling a little.
"I don't know," Harry said, his expression grim. "But if anyone could make Dumbledore prepare to this extent... it would only be three people: your father, my mother, and him."
"I don't think my father would ever want anything from Dumbledore. And your mother even less," Daphne said, shaking her head firmly.
"Then we have a starting point," Harry went on, staring at some invisible spot in front of him. "If someone is trying to bring back... you-know-who, it's probably the pure-blood families. Dumbledore could be setting a trap, waiting for their children to report back to their parents."
"But... what kind of object would be powerful enough to bring someone back?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Remember when Mr. Flamel helped us?" Harry said in a low tone.
"Nicolas Flamel... the creator of the Philosopher's Stone. The stone that grants immortality," Daphne recalled, a shiver running down her spine.
"But why would Flamel give it to Dumbledore? He needs it to keep producing the Elixir of Life," Hermione objected.
"What if Dumbledore asked for it to use as bait?" Draco suggested cautiously.
"That's too far-fetched," Harry countered, shaking his head. "Why risk such an object in Hogwarts? It would be safer for Flamel to keep it in his own home. It must be one of the most secure places in the world."
He fell silent all of a sudden. Something in his expression showed that another piece had just clicked into place.
Everyone held their breath, waiting.
"If Mr. Flamel is tired of living..." Harry finally said, his voice heavy enough to chill the air around the table.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, though her eyes showed she was already beginning to understand.
"If life no longer matters to him... it would be easy to convince him to hand over the Stone. Flamel has lived longer than anyone. If someone with enough skill at persuasion—someone like Dumbledore—told him his existence had no purpose... maybe he'd agree," Harry said.
He clenched his fists, fully aware of how cold that sounded, but every word fit together in a way he couldn't ignore.
"Are you saying he convinced Flamel to give him the Stone... even knowing that if anything went wrong, Flamel would die?" Daphne whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes," Harry answered seriously. "Do you remember the story of Liz and Gris?"
The others nodded silently.
"That old man doesn't seem to care about anyone... as long as his strategy works."
"Then... he's using the Philosopher's Stone as bait? To lure the followers of... you-know-who. So they'll try to revive him... and he can catch them," Hermione said, carefully connecting each piece.
"No." Harry's voice was so firm that all of them looked at him at once. His expression held something deeper than worry—something close to disgust. "He wants to use me."
They all froze. The surprise was so intense that Daphne opened her mouth without making a sound.
"Why do you think that?" Draco asked, in a tone more serious than usual.
"It all fits," Harry began, lowering his voice. "The same year Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived—arrives at Hogwarts... Dumbledore decides to guard something that could bring anyone back to life. And apparently the dark wizards already know about it. How would they know? Nicolas Flamel doesn't communicate with almost anyone. Even for us, it was nearly impossible to contact him the first time."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"And then there's the warning. It wasn't just a message for the spies. It was also a message for me. Or maybe for all of us. Think about it: the change of house. I'm sure Draco and I would have ended up in Slytherin. It was the logical choice. But instead, we all landed in Ravenclaw. As a group. For one reason: Dumbledore didn't know how we'd react if he separated us from the people we already knew. Maybe we wouldn't have made friends in any other house. If we stayed together, it would be easier to watch us. Or to manipulate us. And in that... he was right. We're smart, we created the golems, and we never split up. So he put us in Ravenclaw, surrounded by clever little bookworms who wouldn't interfere."
"Why not Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, lifting an eyebrow cautiously.
"Because his connection with the Weasleys failed." Harry narrowed his eyes, recalling every detail. "Do you remember the day we met that family? Ron Weasley was acting strange. Like he didn't know what to say. And I could feel Confundus magic on him. The next time I saw him, it was gone. Dumbledore must have changed his plan when he realized the Weasleys couldn't get close to me the way he wanted."
A heavy silence fell around the table. Draco traced the rim of his goblet with a fingertip, lost in thought.
"So... he sent us to Ravenclaw so we'd settle there. Professor Flitwick is brilliant. He knew we'd bond with him immediately. And then he allowed us to create the club... when the Confederation always used to deny such requests," Draco said aloud, reflecting.
"But... maybe it's just our speculation," Hermione said softly, her doubt showing through.
"Maybe," Harry conceded with a sigh, "but I don't want to dismiss it if there's even the slightest chance it's true."
"Then this is what we have," Daphne said in a voice that allowed no interruption. She took Hermione's notes and held them as though they were evidence in a trial. "It's possible that what's under that dog is the Philosopher's Stone. And that it's all a trap for the followers of you-know-who. It's also possible Dumbledore wants Harry—or all of us together—to discover it. So we'll warn someone... or maybe be the ones to stop them. And this could all be a plan by that stupid headmaster."
As she spoke, Harry nodded seriously. Draco kept his gaze fixed on the table, unable to deny that every piece fit too perfectly. Hermione was the only one still struggling against the suspicion. After all, Dumbledore was supposed to be the protector of Hogwarts.
"Well... it's easy to find out," Harry said finally, his voice calm but resolute. "We just have to send a letter to Mr. Nicolas Flamel."
They all nodded. And without another word, they nearly ran from the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor as they headed for the Owlery. There, Hedwig was waiting, wings ruffling patiently. Soon she would carry the question that might prove it was all just paranoia... or the most dangerous truth they could ever imagine.