Standing in the snow and wind of the Scottish Highlands, Ron huffed out a breath of white air and pulled his robe tighter around him. "Hagrid's ruthless, just leaving us here in this cold."
"What exactly is this Philosopher's Stone Aiwei mentioned?" Harry asked curiously. "Why do Snape and Quirrell both want it?"
"Come on! Haven't you read any books?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nicolas Flamel—also known as Nicolas Flamel—didn't you recognize the name? Harry?"
Harry's blank expression matched his innocent gaze. Hermione sighed as she looked at him. "Well, he might be the most famous alchemist in the world. It's said that he created the Philosopher's Stone and used it to achieve immortality."
"Immortality?" Ron gasped. "No wonder Snape and Quirrell want to get their hands on it!"
"Not only that, the Philosopher's Stone can also turn anything into gold," Hermione added. "So, Nicolas Flamel is not only immortal but also very wealthy. Nobody knows why he entrusted Dumbledore with the stone."
"Well, now even I'm interested. You can never have too much gold," Ron shrugged, his face showing a bit of longing.
With a loud "bang," Hagrid opened the wooden door of the hut.
"Hagrid!" Harry called out enthusiastically. "I knew you wouldn't be so ruthless!"
But Hagrid merely pressed his lips tightly together, as if trying to avoid revealing any information. He tossed a broom into Harry's arms—it was his Nimbus 2000.
After doing this, Hagrid slammed the door shut again with a thud, sending snowflakes flying into Ron's mouth.
"Ugh! See, Hagrid is ruthless," Ron spat out the snow in his mouth, shaking his head in resignation.
"Thanks, Hagrid! Be sure to come watch me play Quidditch!" Harry shouted as he hugged his broom. But only two muffled grunts came from inside the hut, making it hard to tell whether Hagrid was acknowledging his invitation.
"Don't worry, he'll come, Harry." Ron patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "Since the Philosopher's Stone is so important, we should…"
"Tell the professors!" Hermione shot Ron a look, "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. We can't take the Philosopher's Stone. And you can forget about keeping it for yourself!"
"Why not?" Ron asked, bewildered. "I don't want to keep it for myself; it's just a little gold, after all. Flamel can't use it all up. Besides, with Cannonball Queen and the ancient wizards, we could get the Philosopher's Stone before Snape and Quirrell!"
"Whether Snape or Quirrell wants to get the Philosopher's Stone, it's clear they haven't gotten it yet. If we tell the professors in advance, they can prepare," Hermione said firmly, not paying attention to Ron.
Aiwei didn't say anything, but Harry nodded in agreement.
"By the way, Harry," Aiwei called out before they returned to the castle, "I took your Nimbus 2000 apart, but I fixed it up, and I also added a few protective spells against Dark Magic. Hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," Harry replied cheerfully. "We're friends, even if you're a Slytherin."
Harry immediately regretted those words.
With the arrival of November, the Quidditch season began. Wood trained them relentlessly, and Harry still had to squeeze in time for his heavy homework.
Worse still, Gryffindor's first opponent was Slytherin. If they won, Gryffindor would move up to second place in the standings.
In their effort to end Slytherin's seven-year winning streak, everyone worked hard. The atmosphere was infectious, and Harry felt the pressure on his shoulders growing heavier.
"Look, there's Scarhead Potter, Gryffindor's Seeker!" After Potions class one day, Malfoy was still following Harry, standing in the hallway, mocking him. Snape, who hurriedly passed by them, didn't even glance at Malfoy, much less stop to deduct points.
Harry reminded himself to stay patient. Snape hadn't gone far, and acting now would only get Gryffindor points deducted.
"How do you think he flies?" Malfoy asked when Harry didn't respond. With a bored expression, he quickly answered his question, "If you ask me, Gryffindor should send a group of people to hold mattresses underneath to catch Potter in case he falls off his broom and dies. I think Longbottom's built just right, so even if Potter falls on him, it won't matter."
"Don't listen to him, Harry," Hermione shot a glare at Malfoy, causing him to take a small step back.
The story of Hermione using one spell to destroy the troll had spread across all four houses and was becoming more exaggerated by the day. In Ravenclaw, students were especially eager to discuss which spell Hermione had used, with many swearing it was Dark Magic.
While students from the other two houses were somewhat skeptical, Slytherins weren't about to provoke a young witch who could take down a troll.
"Well? Going to ask your bird-mommy for protection, Potter? Let me tell you, you're just a coward!" Malfoy taunted.
"Think your nose wants another punch, Malfoy?" Harry asked coldly, not rushing to get into a fight but keeping his composure.
People in the hallway turned to look, and Malfoy's face first turned ashen before quickly recovering his smug smile. "Looks like you've got no memory, eh, Scarhead Potter? Then let's do it again. No rules—just you and me."
"Oh? Another trophy room showdown?" Harry asked, unfazed, returning the challenge.
"Don't agree to this, Harry! He's trying to mess with your head, don't forget the Quidditch match tomorrow!" Hermione warned anxiously.
"It's fine, Harry! I can take over for you! I won't mess up your chances to catch the Golden Snitch!" Ron eagerly cracked his knuckles.
"After dinner, at the clock tower!" Malfoy said with a sneer. "No one will be there, perfect for a duel."
After Malfoy left, Hermione looked furious. She turned to Ron and hissed, "You should've stopped him! The Quidditch match tomorrow is more important!"
Ron nonchalantly replied, "Oh, come on, just think of it as a warm-up before the match. But come on, are you going or not?"
"Of course!" Hermione's voice was full of frustration. "I need to make sure you two don't get points deducted!"