"Maybe we can check the library," Harry suggested, his mind already working. "Someone important enough to be partners with Dumbledore… his name must be in A History of Magic or something."
"Why don't we just ask a professor?" Ron countered immediately, the very thought of sifting through dusty books making him groan.
"No, that's too obvious," Harry shot back. "It would raise too many questions."
"Alright, fine," Ron conceded, then a thought struck him. "What about Hermione? She's read practically every book in the school. I bet she's seen the name." He paused, grimacing. "But with the way she's been acting, I don't fancy talking to her. You should ask her, Harry."
"That's… actually a good idea," Harry admitted. "But can we trust her not to run off and tell Percy or a professor?"
Ron just shrugged, the uncertainty hanging in the air.
Dudley didn't join their debate. He stood perfectly still, his eyes closed, his entire focus turned inward. The name echoed in his mind, a single key searching for its lock. He was sure he'd seen it somewhere, a fleeting glance that hadn't registered at the time. But his memory was no longer ordinary. He could pull on threads of intuition, forging connections that lay hidden to others.
Nicolas Flamel… Nicolas Flamel…
He let the name resonate, his mind sifting through countless images and scraps of text at an impossible speed. Suddenly, a clear picture surfaced from the mental chaos. A wizened old man with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles, his eyes twinkling with ancient wisdom.
"Professor Dumbledore," Dudley muttered under his breath.
"What about Professor Dumbledore?" Harry and Ron asked, looking at him with confusion.
Dudley held up a hand, silencing them. The connection felt significant. Why would thinking of Nicolas Flamel conjure an image of Dumbledore? They're friends, partners even. But this feels more specific… The name didn't just appear with Dumbledore, it appeared on…
Like a lightning strike, another image flashed in his mind. The portrait of Dumbledore wasn't just a portrait. It was framed by elegant, gilded edges. It was a card.
"Chocolate Frogs!" Dudley's eyes snapped open.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, startled by his cousin's sudden intensity.
Ron stared, completely baffled. "One minute it's Dumbledore, now it's Chocolate Frogs? What does any of that have to do with Nicolas Flamel?"
"Ron," Dudley said, his voice sharp with purpose. "You collect the cards, right? The ones from the Chocolate Frogs?"
"Yeah, loads of 'em. So?"
"Do you have a Dumbledore?" Dudley pressed.
"Got several."
"Back to the common room. Now."
Without another word, Dudley turned and strode towards the Gryffindor tower, the other two scrambling to keep up. A few moments later, Ron was kneeling on the floor of their dormitory, dumping out his treasured collection of cards. With lightning speed, Dudley snatched a Dumbledore card from the pile. It was identical to the one from his vision.
He flipped it over. His eyes scanned the introduction on the back, landing on the final lines. He read them aloud:
"...widely considered the greatest sorcerer of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel."
"Nicolas Flamel… he was here all along!" Ron said, his voice thick with disbelief. He'd read that card dozens of times and never once noticed the name.
Harry was just as stunned. He'd gotten a Dumbledore card on the Hogwarts Express, but the name had meant nothing to him then; it had slipped from his memory completely.
"You're a genius, Dudley!" Ron exclaimed, his voice full of genuine awe. "A bloody genius! How on earth did you remember that?"
Harry's gaze was filled with a new level of awe. To recall such a tiny detail from a single glance and connect it to their current mystery… it was a feat of memory that bordered on unnatural. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. The Dudley he grew up with could never have done this. When had his cousin become so… gifted?
"To the library," Dudley said, cutting their praise short. "Let's look up Nicolas Flamel."
Knowing that Flamel was an alchemist narrowed their search from an impossible task to a manageable one. As the three of them hurried out of the common room, their excitement made them careless.
"Ouch! Watch where you're going!"
Ron had barrelled straight into Hermione, who was just about to enter. Books scattered across the floor.
"Sorry!" Ron mumbled, not even stopping to help her pick them up. "Got to go!" He scrambled after Harry and Dudley, who were already halfway down the corridor.
"They're not getting into more trouble, are they?" Hermione whispered to herself, her brow furrowed with suspicion. After a moment's hesitation, her curiosity won out. She gathered her books and quietly followed them.
"They're going to the library?" she murmured, peering from behind a suit of armor as the trio disappeared through the library doors. Her surprise was genuine. Dudley, she could understand. But Harry and Ron? They'd rather face the Bloody Baron than voluntarily spend time in the library.
"Check the alchemy section," Dudley instructed once they were inside.
Harry and Ron nodded and immediately began pulling heavy, leather-bound tomes from the shelves. Dudley, however, didn't search randomly. He walked slowly along an aisle, his gaze sweeping over the spines, trusting his intuition to guide him. He stopped, pulled out a thick, unassuming book, and began to flip through the pages.
From behind a nearby bookshelf, Hermione watched them, her mind racing. "Alchemy? Why on earth are they suddenly interested in alchemy?"
Dudley was aware of her presence, but he paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on the task at hand. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, locking onto a single paragraph.
"Found it," he said, his voice a low, triumphant whisper.
Harry and Ron immediately huddled around him, their heads close together as they peered at the page.
"That thing Fluffy's guarding," Dudley said softly, his voice barely audible over the library's silence. "It's the Philosopher's Stone. The book says Nicolas Flamel is the only known creator of one." He paused, letting the weight of the discovery sink in. "And the only Philosopher's Stone in existence belongs to him."
Harry and Ron stared at each other, clueless. "The Philosopher's Stone? What's that?"
Dudley's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "It's a legendary substance with incredible powers. It can turn any metal into pure gold… and it produces the Elixir of Life, which can make the drinker immortal."
He closed the book with a soft thud. A grim understanding settled over them.
"Now," Dudley said, his gaze distant and calculating, "it all makes sense."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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