The Quidditch match had gone exactly as in the books—or at least that's what Noah gathered from everyone talking about it afterward.
He hadn't actually watched the game. Instead, he'd gone on his second trip into the forest.
With his right eye, he confirmed his theory about the spider webs. He also confirmed that the best choice was to start deeper down in the forest.
There's no way I could keep my right eye active the whole time. He'd seen a terrifying sight: webs were everywhere.
From Hagrid's hut all the way toward what he guessed was the spiders' nest, the forest was laced with traps.
On the leaves in the trees, on the ground, across branches, between trunks—step on the wrong leaf once, and the entire network of webs would reveal his position.
At least it wasn't spread across the whole forest. The spiders were territorial, not like the centaurs, who patrolled everywhere.
That made Noah push aside his usual impatience and go ten times more carefully. He knew worse creatures lurked in the woods. Not to mention Voldemort himself.
Why can't there ever be a busty elf girl or a vampire who likes sucking…
He shook his head. "Merlin's beard, I've lost it."
. . .
Time waited for no one. Days passed, and the year was nearly over.
By December, the world was white with snow. The Christmas spirit was a welcome comfort compared to Halloween's tricks.
Most students had gone home for the holidays.
Noah had considered it too. But with the progress he'd made over the last two months, he felt he could find the stone with the inscriptions at any moment.
And during Christmas break, he'd have more time than ever to dive deeper into the forest.
Just last week he'd run straight into a werewolf. Being chased by a beast like that had taught him two important lessons:
Never go out during a full moon.
Use magic to mask his scent and body heat.
He felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier.
He also hadn't felt comfortable killing the poor werewolf, so he only defended himself and fled—taking a vial of its blood with him.
The mad scientist in him was dying to research lycanthropy.
Before Terry, Michael, and Anthony left for home, Noah's mornings had been filled with snowball fights and seeing who could slide the farthest across the frozen lake.
The Weasley twins joined in once and convinced him to aim snowballs at Quirrell's head. First to knock off the turban would win.
Noah happily joined, using magic to speed up his snowballs.
No one managed to dislodge the turban, but the scene was hilarious.
Now, however, his friends had gone home.
It was Wednesday, and he was on his way to the library to return a book on spiders.
But as soon as he entered, he noticed the usual silence was missing.
Looking around, he quickly found out why.
Four Gryffindors sat at a table, a mountain of books piled beside them.
Or rather, he spotted Ron and Harry—since Violet and Hermione were hidden behind so many books that they formed a small hill.
"Having fun, Ron?" he asked, sliding into the seat beside them.
"Fun? What fun?" Ron groaned, dropping his head onto an open book. "I'd rather face a troll than spend this long in a library."
Violet and Hermione both lowered their books to glare at him, brows furrowed.
"Too soon?" Ron chuckled weakly, then shrank under their looks.
"Wanna sneak out for a chess match?" Noah asked.
"You bet I do." Ron jumped up, ready to follow Noah—
—but a loud cough from behind made him turn. Hermione and Violet were giving him questioning stares.
Ron sighed and slumped back into his chair.
"Guess chess will have to wait."
Noah smirked and glanced at the book Violet was holding.
Great Wizards of the Nineteenth Century.
"So you all decided not to go home for Christmas," Noah said, turning back to them. "All this just to figure out who Nicolas Flamel is?"
He'd only taken two steps before Harry grabbed his shoulder. That gave Violet and Hermione enough time to catch up and grab him too.
"You know about Flamel?" Violet asked.
Noah smiled. "Of course I do. You probably won't believe me, but I've had tea with him before. We even played with magical modeling clay."
"Not a good time for jokes," Harry said seriously. "This is important."
Noah sighed, slipping free of their grips.
"You know, sometimes knowing too much is a curse."
And for him, those words carried extra weight. He was going to let these four kids run straight toward Voldemort.
Just weeks ago, he'd been saving the lives of the two girls. Now he seemed fine with letting them walk into imminent danger.
But destiny still seemed to be working as it should. He'd noticed it after the Quidditch match… and of course, there was old Dumbledore.
Instead of telling them, he asked: "And what do you plan to do once you get this information?"
"What do we plan to do?" Harry frowned. "Protect it, of course. If Quirrell wants to steal it, then we have to protect it, whatever it is."
"Or Snape," Ron muttered beside him. Even if he didn't believe it much anymore, after the Quidditch match, Quirrell looked more suspicious.
"Protect it? Something guarded by a three-headed dog—and I bet lots of other defenses from the professors and the headmaster?"
Only then did the four freeze. How did Noah know all this?
"Come on, don't look at me like that." He chuckled. "Nicolas Flamel is my teacher. Of course I'd know the Philosopher's Stone is here at school."
"Wait—" Harry's brain couldn't keep up with the flood of information.
But Hermione was already flipping through books. "That's it! Nicolas Flamel is the alchemist who created the Philosopher's Stone. How did I miss that?"
"So that's what Quirrell wants to steal…" Harry murmured.
That's when Noah noticed something.
They suspect Quirrell? That's new. He kept the thought to himself.
"So you're planning to fight to protect the Stone?" Noah asked.
"Exactly. Shouldn't you be helping too?" Harry pressed. "It's your teacher's item, after all."
Noah shook his head. "Where's the fun in that? I'm busy with another project. Besides, like I said, the Stone is well protected."
As he turned to leave, Noah added:
"Harry, once I saw a great witch take down her opponent with nothing more than a simple summoning charm—aimed at their clothes, pulling them off balance. Try that if you need to."
Violet shot him a death glare.
The others just looked confused.