A/N: I'm gonna be quite busy for the next two months or so, I might not be able to post something every weekend.
On a happier note I've got two new projects developing in my mind which I will probably begin working on after aforementioned two months.
If I remember them that is. I should probably write them down...
Mini Update: This is a message for the one who calls himself SillySlySy. Give me a thumbs up if you receive it man. Just want to tell you that you're doing an awesome series of reviews, you have raised some very valid points, and I admire your flair and style. Keep it up. Do you have your own profile by any chance?
Anything in italics is from Goyle's Journal unless it very obviously isn't.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, getting very irritated. A troll on the loose, an attempted murder... whoever was after the Stone wasn't acting completely logically, and that made them all the more dangerous and unpredictable. He sighed heavily and pushed aside Transfiguration Today. As interesting as the shape-shifting crossword might have been, he just wasn't in the mood.
He turned his mind to another matter, one in which he had made some very interesting progress. It wasn't much, but in one of the private libraries behind the Headmaster's study he had rummaged through an ancient chest containing some incredibly old parchments which, despite going all the way back to the time of the Founders, nobody ever seemed to take any particular interest in.
Regardless, he had found himself drawn towards them for the first time, and his search was not fruitless. A yellowing, extremely faded parchment, practically illegible. However, most interesting were the crests at the top, that of the House of Gryffindor and... the House of Crabbe. A series of cleaning, restoring and secret-revealing charms had shown him a few scattered words and phrases, but not much more.
Secret alliance between the Ancient an...
cannot be revea...
protection of the Castle from...
every seven ge...
And that was it. There just wasn't enough information to make an informed decision on what to do, and there was a lot more to discover.
He decided to throw them a bone and see what happened.
"Does the name Flamel sound familiar to you?"
The question, asked by Gregory Goyle as he entered the nearly deserted common room was all but ignored by the room's sole occupant.
"Fourteen left-diagonal, Sathyr-oil. Hold still, won't you?" muttered Vincent Crabbe under his breath. He scribbled it down and put Transfiguration Today aside. He looked up from his armchair. "Sorry, you were saying?"
"Flamel. Go."
"You're probably referring to Nicolas Flamel. Magical researcher, first known successful Philosopher, personal friend of Albus Dumbledore. Also several centuries old. Why?"
"I heard McGonagall talking about him with Dumbledore when I was...scouting for information earlier."
The truth was that I had been taking a stroll. I had had a stressful few weeks, and I just needed to clear my head. But the case just wouldn't leave me alone for even that brief moment.
"What exactly was the context?" asked Crabbe.
"I just caught a snatch of their conversation, hushed tones, the usual. McGonagall was telling Dumbledore that he'd have to tell Flamel something."
Crabbe's eyes narrowed. "Library. Now."
He got up, gave his crossword a quick glance, then tossed it into the fire.
It wasn't easy for us to visit the Library. The moment we entered, Madam Pince had fixed her beady eyes upon us. At first they were curious, but then they narrowed as she realized we were doubtlessly up to no good. We therefore had to pretend to read Herbology for Dummies until she finally lost interest. Crabbe had already mentally mapped the entire place out of the corner of his eye while we were waiting, so it didn't take us long to find a book that covered Nicolas Flamel.
"The Sorcerer's Stone, of course!" said Crabbe, almost reverentially as we gazed down at the pages. "It makes complete sense. It's a small object, easy to move around."
"Turns metal into gold, produces the Elixir of Life, wow. That's pretty powerful." said Goyle, scanning through the upside-down text.
It was most probably kept in Gringott's prior to being moved here," said Crabbe, ignoring him. "And after Flamel requested it be moved- wait. Why did he suddenly choose to move it then? It was a very convenient decision considering the vault it was kept in was broken into that very same day. Did he know, perhaps he received a tip-off from someone? And why Hogwarts?"
Goyle ventured forth. "It is considered to be even safer than Gringott's, or anywhere else."
"A troll was smuggled in here not two weeks ago," snapped Crabbe. "It most decidedly is not."
He closed his eyes and put his hands to his temples. Goyle recognized this as his body language for 'thinking very hard, do not disturb me' and wisely remained silent for the minute it took before Crabbe's eyes flew open.
"Oh, I am so stupid," he muttered. "The Stone is bait. Why didn't we realize, think back to the Quidditch match Gregory!"
"Yes, Sna- I mean Quirell was trying to throw Harry off his broom."
"But why? Why didn't we realize that murdering Harry Potter shouldn't have had anything to do with obtaining the Philosopher's Stone? Flamel didn't ask Dumbledore to move the Stone, Dumbledore asked him! That Stone is just bait, a pawn in a much larger game between Dumbledore and-" his voice broke off.
Goyle frowned. "Dumbledore and who?"
Crabbe pointed to a single word on the open page. Immortal.
"Who would want that, and has a burning hatred for Harry Potter?
Crabbe and Goyle had long since left the Library, but the closed book remained upon the table, unshelved.
A girl walked toward it and picked it up. She examined the front and back covers, flipped briefly through the pages, and went to Madam Pince.
"You know, most witches your age don't appreciate books like this any more," said the Librarian, giving her a rare smile as she wrote its name down on a slip of parchment.
Hermione Granger smiled back. "Oh, it's just a bit of light reading."
A/N: And that's it for this weekend. I haven't proofread this as thoroughly as usual, nitpickers are welcomed with open arms and a 'you better know what you are doing' smile.
Negative reviewers get a Riker-esque shark smile.
Positive reviewers get cookies. Why do people write that? Believe me, I've written many positive reviews and I have not yet received a single cookie. Maybe I should have left my address...
TwentyRings
