Hermione had returned the day before the holidays were over, along with most of the other students living in the mundane world. It seemed Harry was indeed convinced to not look for the mirror again as he stayed in his bed the remaining nights. He had started having nightmares, however. Horrible dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of sickly green light while someone cackled madly in the background. Ron was convinced that the mirror HAD driven Harry a little mad, just a little, but Hermione had a different take on the whole scenario.

Hermione was thinking that he might be having a residual flashback to the night that Harry's parents had died. After all, the Killing Curse was known to be green and a baby would see very little definition, but sounds would be remembered. She figured that the only reason he was having the dreams now was that he finally had faces to put to the vague memories of that night. It was a frighteningly Freudian analysis of poor Harry.

Otherwise, Hermione was torn between the horrors of them sneaking around at night, wonder at what might be in the forbidden Restricted Section, and disappointment that no one had found anything on Nicholas Flammel, other than the Flammel Brothers denying any relation.

Over the next several days and weeks, the small group spent what time they could trying to find more information about Flammel. Harry and Staros both had less time than the other two, Harry because of Quidditch practice, Staros because of his 'personal project' that he refused to tell anyone about. While Staros was making decent headway into the History, he realized that the book was enormous and that with the changes in language, it would take a while. Already he was laughing about some of the exploits of the Founders he had discovered.

One passage he had found described Salazar's wooing of Rowenna. All four had written some of their personal accounts of the epic battle for Rowenna's heart. Years of Sal asking to court her, years of being denied, but never in such a way that said 'No' outright. More years of him asking to marry her with similar replies. Years of Godric standing to the sidelines laughing about the whole thing, often until he was on the ground in tears. Helga's husband seemed to make appearances once in a while in her accounts, but she never put his name down in the History. Godric had a string of women thrown at him by the various courts they attended, but he never seemed to settle on a wife.

One particularly long passage was written by Godric and was an accounting of his two friends' wedding. Finally, they had given up the deft dance they had played out for so long. His recounting was a beautiful narrative of the union, with the entire school in attendance, plus numerous royals and dignitaries from all over the magical world. You could even make out a few marks that looked to be tearstains amidst the words, perhaps Godric crying in joy for his friends?

Interspersed throughout the earlier accounts were long narratives of meetings and views about the rising 'commoners' issue. None of the Founders wanted to outright block the first generation magicals, but there was a major issue regarding their educational level, the rising powers of the Church across Europe, and the clashes between magical children whose houses were in feuds or were of higher station than others. It was not pretty.

Staros had to shake his head at one particular recounting that was written many weeks after the previous entry. Apparently, the reason for the large gap was a blood feud. One scion of a house tried to kill another of a house his parents were at war with. The ensuing chaos nearly caused a civil war in the magical world with over a hundred students dead and at least two prominent lines ended, neither of which had been involved before that. The only good to come from it was that Godric had finally found a wife. At the age of sixty-three.

To a girl of fifteen. Staros was momentarily shocked before he remembered that back in those days, such things were common enough. The age difference between husband and wife was often a decade or more, especially with titles involved. The girl was from a small village that boasted a large number of magical families. Her name was Alanna Peverell of the Ancient House of Peverell. Staros was sure he'd heard that name in History of Magic at some point, but couldn't quite recall why. Ah, well, he'd look it up later.

Several days later, right before the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, Hermione was the one to tell Staros about the Flammels. He had run into her on his way out of the library while she was coming in. Always enjoying her viewpoint on many of the magical subjects, he stayed to help her with researching some of her often very long essays. Amidst the joking about her 'slightly' exceeding the requirements of the essays, she mentioned the History. Almost fearing he'd been caught with his project, Staros buried his first reaction, to scream and beg for mercy, remember, brilliant but scary, and asked what she meant about it having the answer.

Instead of just telling, she went over to the stacks and brought back one of the abridged copies and plopped it on the table, flipped to the relevant section, and went back to her work, knowing that Staros would read through it. He did.

Nicholas Flammel. Six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday. And, the Sorcerers' Stone. Great, a magic rock that could transmute base metal to gold and provided the Elixir of Life. And it was probably hidden in this very school. Staros glanced around briefly for the hidden cameras, stunt guys, or bad movie props that would tell him he was back in Cali trespassing in a B-rated film studio. Not finding any, he sighed realizing that, yes, life was now horribly complicated.

On the other hand, he looked down at the picture of Nicholas and Perenelle and almost laughed out loud. Later that night Staros wrote the Flammel 'Brothers' another letter that simply said "Devon? Really?" and included a signature that incorporated his magical oath to say nothing.

From the tension about the match, Staros couldn't help but be drawn to see it, even if his house wasn't playing. Blaise came with him to the stands, but Daphne and Tracey were much more interested in finishing their transfiguration homework. Since Professor Snape, who seemed to dislike Gryffindor and Harry in particular, was refereeing; it promised to be somewhat interesting.

It was also the first match that Staros could remember seeing Dumbledore in the stands. Thinking over the number of times there had been 'issues' between the two houses, it probably made sense.

Staros made his way into the stands, actually following Draco who had gotten there a bit earlier. As they were all sitting down, Draco leaned back in his seat and stuck his foot forward far enough to hit Ron in the back of the head. Shaking his head at the inevitable fight, Staros moved a little closer in case he was needed.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you Weasley?" said Draco with his usual sneer.

Ron didn't answer him, instead turning back to the match where Snape had just awarded a penalty to Hufflepuff because one of the Twins had snapped a bludger in his direction.

Staros spoke up.

"Sure, Draco. What odds you giving?"

"Um, what?"

"Odds. Fine, even bet then. I say twenty that Harry is off his broom in the next fifteen minutes. Deal?"

"Deal. Wait… what?"

"Don't worry, Draco. I lose if he's off in ten or less, or takes longer than sixteen. Sound good?"

"Better, done."

Hermione was looking cross at Staros, but was trying to keep her attention on Harry flying high overhead in a crisscross pattern. Just in case. Ron ignored the bet, but did look a bit more upset.

And then Draco started again.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Draco asked as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for apparently no reason. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. You should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville turned and stammered out, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy!"

Draco and goons laughed at this while Ron, still facing away, said, "You tell him, Neville!"

"Now, now, Drakey. Remember, House of the Brave and all that. Brains are hardly noticed and a lack isn't something they can feel sorry for," said Staros, earning him a glare of death from Hermione, but another laugh from Draco.

Still laughing, Draco said, "Oh, gods, that was a good one. Anyway, Longbottom, seriously, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Staros shook his head at the over the top insult, guessing that 'How to Insult People and NOT Get Hit' was not a book that the purebloods of Britain ever read.

"Malfoy," Ron growled, "I'm warning you! One more word!"

"Ron!" Hermione yelled. "Harry!"

Everyone turned to watch, Staros holding up his pocket watch while doing so, as Harry suddenly dived in a sharp spiral, almost straight down.

"You're in luck, Weasley! Potter's obviously found you some money on the ground!" Malfoy said, while nervously looking over at Staros who had a smirk on his face glancing at his watch.

Ron snapped. Before anyone could do anything, he had turned and jumped Draco, hitting him once in the face and wrestling him to the floor of the stands. Neville hesitated for a moment, then slid off his seat to help. Hermione was watching Harry, Staros was looking at the whole mess. Soon, Crabbe and Goyle had figured out their boss needed help and joined in. Neville managed to keep them at bay while Ron was slapping Draco, being unable to get a better position due to the stands narrow foot space which also hindered Draco from getting up.

Up in the air, Snape turned his broom just in time to see Harry streak past him, missing by mere inches. A couple seconds later, Harry was pulling hard out of the dive, his arm raise in triumph with the snitch in hand. He landed and hopped off his broom. Staros looked at his watch and nodded.

"Draco, you owe me twenty. Fourteen minutes, thirty-eight seconds. My win. Ta-ta!" Staros said as he left the scene of the fight, which had paused the moment he started speaking. By the time Staros had reached the steps down, Hermione had shot past him and the others were sorting themselves out, none of them wanting to get into trouble for fighting.

Down on the field, the other players had landed and the Gryffindors were collecting around their players to celebrate. The game was less than thirty minutes. Some people hadn't even started in on their snacks.