The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place, forming a terrifying picture in their minds. Scenes that had once seemed unrelated now connected with an alarming clarity.
"The Philosopher's Stone…" Ron breathed, still struggling to comprehend the scale of it. "The thing Fluffy was guarding was actually the Philosopher's Stone!"
"It all fits!" Harry said, his voice electric with excitement. "The dark-robed figure tried to steal it from Gringotts, but Dumbledore must have known. He thwarted the plan and brought the Stone here. So the thief followed it to Hogwarts!"
"And the person who attacked the unicorn in the Forbidden Forest," Dudley added, his voice low and steady, "was almost certainly the same person." He paused, turning to Harry. "Do you remember the night Hagrid came to get us? He stayed up talking so late that he overslept the next morning."
Harry's brow furrowed for a second before his eyes widened in realization. "So we were meant to go to Diagon Alley that morning! To get the Stone! But because Hagrid overslept, the whole plan was delayed… and we ended up at Gringotts at the exact same time as the thief!"
Dudley gave a slow nod. But his own thoughts were racing even further ahead. He remembered the innkeeper, Tom, mentioning that they had just missed Professor Quirrell at the Leaky Cauldron that day. That placed Quirrell squarely in Diagon Alley at the time of the attempted robbery. He also remembered Quirrell's convenient absence from the start-of-term feast and the first week of classes, blamed on some trouble while traveling. Now, it seemed far more likely it was due to the injuries sustained during their brief, violent clash in the bank's subterranean tunnels.
No wonder he managed to break free from the spiritual pressure I exerted, Dudley thought, a cold certainty washing over him. That wasn't his own strength. It was the evil spirit possessing him.
And if that was true, there was only one logical conclusion. Is that spirit… the legendary Lord Voldemort?
"What do we do?" Harry asked, pulling Dudley from his thoughts. "Do we tell Dumbledore?"
"So, Snape wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Ron blurted out, his mind still stuck on its favorite suspect. "Was the dark-robed figure you fought at Gringotts Snape?"
"We don't know that," Harry said patiently. "But he's the most suspicious one. Only someone from inside the castle could move around the Forbidden Forest that easily."
"What are you three plotting now?"
A sharp voice cut through their conversation. Hermione emerged from behind a towering bookshelf, her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.
"Hermione! How long have you been there?" Harry asked, startled.
"Long enough," she said, her voice dropping to an excited, urgent whisper. "I heard everything. Listen to me—whether it's the Philosopher's Stone or the Sorcerer's Sock, it has nothing to do with us!" She stepped closer. "That Stone is being protected by Dumbledore himself. It's perfectly safe as long as we don't go messing things up."
"But Hermione, Dumbledore trusts Snape!" Harry argued desperately. "It's obvious he's being blinded. We have to tell him what we've discovered!"
"And what, exactly, have you discovered?" Hermione retorted, her logic sharp as a needle.
Harry and Ron fell silent. She was right. They had discovered the Stone's identity, but that was no secret to Dumbledore. And as for their suspicions about Snape? They had nothing but gut feelings. No proof at all.
"We can tell him our theory," Harry said finally. "Let him judge for himself."
"And do you really think," Hermione countered, "that Dumbledore is going to believe a group of first-years over Professor Snape?"
The silence that followed was a damning answer.
"Alright," Dudley spoke, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Leave this to me. You two don't need to worry about it anymore." It was time, he decided, to bring Quirrell to Dumbledore's attention. He had underestimated the meek, stuttering professor. The evil spirit within him was a threat that could not be ignored.
"And how are you going to make Professor Dumbledore believe you?" Hermione asked, her skepticism clear.
Dudley met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry. I know how to present the case."
The authority in his voice was undeniable. Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and even Hermione seemed to accept it, falling silent.
The next morning, an enticing aroma of roasted pumpkin wafted through the corridors, reminding everyone that it was Halloween.
"Have you figured out how you're going to tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked as they sat down for breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Not yet," Dudley admitted. He was still trying to figure out how to report Quirrell without drawing any connection between himself and the mysterious figure who had fought the thief at Gringotts.
"Might as well just march up and tell him," Ron mumbled indistinctly through a mouthful of pumpkin pasty.
Dudley gave him a weary look. "And in the process, tell him we broke into the third-floor corridor, tricked Hagrid into giving us secret information, and broke about a dozen other school rules? Let's see… how many points would that be?"
"Points deduction?" A horrified voice squeaked from a few feet away. Hermione, who had been enjoying her breakfast, nearly leaped out of her seat. "What points have you lost now?"
"Nothing, Hermione. We were just joking," Dudley said quickly.
"We're already in last place for the House Cup!" she hissed. "Please, try not to cause any more trouble!"
After breakfast, the three of them headed off to their first lesson.
"What do we have now?" Ron asked.
"Professor Flitwick's Charms class. We're learning…"
BOOM!
A violent explosion erupted from a table not far from them. A plume of thick, acrid black smoke billowed into the air, and the entire Great Hall fell silent. Everyone turned to stare at a soot-covered Seamus Finnigan, who was looking at his own smoldering robes in bewilderment.
"I… I just wanted to turn this water into rum," Seamus said, his voice trembling with indignation.
A corner of Dudley's mouth twitched. This wasn't the first time.
"A true genius," he muttered under his breath, "at demolition."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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