Creating a magic mark isn't an easy thing to do.
Harry spent half the day experimenting in the Room of Requirement, but still couldn't figure it out.
On the other hand, Hermione and Ron were having a blast, taking turns blasting the training dummy with Expelliarmus, delight written all over their faces.
But Harry had noticed something—Ron's talent was actually pretty good, but since his wand didn't suit him, learning spells was twice the effort for half the results.
Harry only half agreed with what Olivander had said—wasn't it true that both the wizard and the wand were choosing each other?
Maybe it was time to help Ron get a new wand, Harry thought to himself. Considering Ron's family circumstances, if they had enough money, they wouldn't make him use Charlie's old wand.
How about gifting him one? Harry decided in his heart, but was afraid that giving a wand directly would hurt his friend's pride.
I should come up with a good way to do it, he thought.
When they left the Room of Requirement, Ron and Hermione still looked like they hadn't had enough fun.
Kids always love new and exciting things, and are naturally drawn to destruction—the two of them were no exception.
Being able to cast spells freely and recklessly, how could they not be obsessed?
"Not bad! Well done! Gryffindor earns two points!"
In Spell Class, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in delight, praising Ron's spellwork.
Because Ron was the first in class to make something besides a feather fly using the Floating Spell—the desk in front of Professor Flitwick was proof of that.
Though the desk only managed to stay airborne for a short moment before crashing down, that didn't stop Professor Flitwick from giving encouragement.
"Harry! Harry! I did it!" Ron shook Harry's arm excitedly.
Hermione shook her head helplessly but applauded Ron.
This level—she could do it ages ago.
It was only because Harry had privately asked her to let Ron have a chance to shine instead of stealing all the spotlight and house points, so she refrained from showing off in Spell Class.
The other students thought Ron was just celebrating with his friends; none of them realized his rapid improvement in spellwork owed much to Harry's patient guidance.
The three of them visited Hagrid's hut every Friday, and Harry, as usual, took the rock cake without hesitation despite his two friends' accusing glares.
"Try it dipped in water—it softens up," Harry told the other two. "Last time when I had a toothache, I tried it and it was actually pretty good—Hagrid, could you please break it into small pieces for us?"
"Of course, Harry." Hagrid grinned and picked up the rock cake, carefully breaking it into small bites for the three kids.
He realized normal kids' teeth could never chew rock cakes properly, so to thank Harry for being so thoughtful, he smiled at him and poured honey water for the trio.
"Whew…" Harry took a sip, feeling like he'd dodged a bullet, and said to Hagrid, "You know, Hagrid, this is what lemonade is supposed to taste like. That stuff I had in the Headmaster's Office the other day… should really be called lemon syrup."
"You went to the Headmaster's Office?" Hagrid brushed his beard. "Dumbledore's a great man, right? He loves sweets, everyone knows that. Professor McGonagall is always hiding his candies, but it doesn't seem to help much—most of the Tooth Health Potion Professor Snape brews ends up being used up by him."
At this point, Hagrid covered his mouth with a hand and leaned in close to the three kids.
The trio saw Hagrid wanted to share a secret, so they leaned closer too.
"On Professor Snape's advice, the Tooth Health Potion should be paid for out of the School Board's budget, but Professor Dumbledore refused."
Hermione knitted her brows and said helplessly, "Hagrid, don't you realize Professor Snape was being sarcastic?"
Hagrid's face lit up with sudden understanding. He raised a finger uneasily and asked, "Sarcastic?"
"Yes," they all nodded together.
"Oh! Right!" Hagrid scratched his head. "Now I get why Professor Snape said that, ha ha…"
"By the way, Hagrid," Harry suddenly asked, "speaking of Professor Snape—I saw him after Halloween and his leg looked injured. Fitch was putting ointment on it and I overheard that it was some animal with three heads that bit him. I know you're a magical creatures expert, so I thought I'd ask you about it."
"Oh, I wouldn't call myself a magical creature expert." Hagrid said shyly, scratching his head. Then he said to Harry, "Maybe Professor Snape was bitten by Fluffy."
"Fluffy?" all three asked at once.
"Yeah, Fluffy is a three-headed dog I bought from a Greek chap." Hagrid kept pouring lemonade for them. "There's something odd about that dog—it falls asleep as soon as it hears music. Dumbledore borrowed him and keeps him on the fourth floor. I do wonder if he can really guard Nicolas Flamel's…"
At that, Hagrid realized he'd said too much and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Nicolas Flamel?" The three glanced at each other.
That name was already enough. Harry relaxed in his chair.
Hermione asked, "Who's Nicolas Flamel?"
"Oh no, little miss, that's Professor Dumbledore's secret." Hagrid stood up to usher them out. "Sorry, I've already said enough for today. You have class tomorrow, don't you? It's getting late, you should head back and get some rest."
With no choice, the trio left Hagrid's hut.
"Nicolas Flamel?" Ron muttered. "Why does that name sound so familiar? I feel like I've heard it somewhere."
"Me too," Hermione frowned. "I know I've heard it before, I just can't remember where."
"Harry, any ideas?" Ron turned and asked Harry.
"You actually saw him today." Harry reached into his robe and pulled out a Chocolate Frog card. "Look, I happen to have one right here—"
Ron took the card and read the text: "Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, widely recognized as the greatest wizard of our time."
"Dumbledore's notable achievements include: defeating the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering twelve uses of dragon's blood, and alchemical partnership with Nicolas Flamel… Right! That's where I know the name—from a Chocolate Frog card! What does he do?"
"Isn't it right there? Nicolas Flamel must be an alchemist," Hermione said.
"I read in a book once," Harry said, poker-faced, "Nicolas Flamel is over six hundred years old, been alive since the fourteenth century. Rumor has it he has a Philosopher's Stone—the magic stone has mysterious powers. It can turn things into gold and grant immortality."
Hearing Harry's description, Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance, both gasping.
Ron's gasp was for the Philosopher's Stone's magical powers.
Hermione's was for Harry's encyclopedic knowledge.
"You know so much, Harry," Hermione said admiringly.
Harry just smiled warmly, thinking, if only you knew—I've met Nicolas Flamel myself…