At precisely seven o'clock in the morning, Harry stood in front of Severus's office, he knocked twice. It took Severus considerably longer than usual to answer the door. Raising an eyebrow, Harry stared at the Potions Master's leg. Without receiving an answer, he was quickly ushered inside, the dire man following him with a heavy limp.

"What happened to your leg?" Harry asked once they had entered the personal living quarters of Severus and strong Privacy Wards had been erected.

Obsidian eyes looked at him, "I immediately followed Quirrell last night and…"

His voice broke after that and a painful expression appeared on his face, "I cannot talk about it."

A frown appeared on Harry's face, "That vow again?"

Severus nodded in confirmation. At the beginning of the school year, Dumbledore had asked some of the teachers to help him guard something. That something obviously was the content of whatever had been in the Gringotts vault that had been broken into shortly after its removal. Those involved, had sworn a vow of secrecy. None could reveal any details regarding the item itself and its protection. Suddenly, Tom had an idea. Green eyes turned red, "Did you by any chance come across a certain three-headed dog?"

Severus' eyebrows shot up, "You know about the beast?"

Smirking, Tom purred, "Of course! Harry and I have been down there. Whatever the old goat is trying to hide isn't there yet. I know you can't reveal anything, so I won't ask more. Anyway, how is your leg? Do you want me to take a look at it? The only thing I want to know is why Quirrell would be interested in the content of the vault. Now, let me take a look at your leg."

"This looks quite infected," Harry said ten minutes later, looking up from the wound, "I know you used the standard Healing Balsams and Potions on this, but that dog isn't an ordinary dog. Would you allow me to heal this properly? It might sting a bit, but I know what I'm doing."

Eventually, Severus agreed. Harry first cleaned the wound magically and then tried to extract the remnants of the toxic dog saliva. Meanwhile, Severus told him that the Headmaster suspected that Quirrell was after whatever had been in the robbed Gringotts vault. After having returned from his sabbatical and accepting the DADA teaching position, Quirrell had been behaving strangely. Not just the stutter, which he hadn't had before, but his whole demeanour and the way he dressed. According to Severus, Quirrell spent an awful amount of time close to the forbidden corridor. The exact same corridor where the Potions Master had found Quirrell last night trying to get past the three-headed dog. Dumbledore suspected that the professor was either working for the Dark Lord or being possessed by him.

Harry only shook his head once Severus had finished, "That's just absurd. How is Tom supposed to possess that stuttering mess when he's already residing in me? And Quirrell's an idiot anyway. Tom would never lower himself to work with such an incompetent fool."

Quirrell's odd behaviour was just another point added to an increasingly long list of mysteries they had to investigate. Tom clearly had nothing to do with this. Was Quirrell working on his own? What are his ulterior motives? Was he really after the content of the vault? Or was there someone in the background pulling the strings?

Severus shrugged his shoulders before flinching, grinding his teeth as Harry was magically knitting the skin back together, "According to the Headmaster, the Dark side is on the rise again."

Harry's eyes met obsidian ones, eyebrows raised, "Does he have any proof?"

Severus only snorted in answer.

"I thought as much," Harry chuckled, before turning back to the wound, "your leg should be fine now but will be delicate for the next couple of days. Please don't try running a marathon."

The Potions Master snorted again, "Hadn't planned on it. Breakfast?"

Five minutes later, they were sitting opposite each other, a rich breakfast and steaming mugs between them. Severus had just placed his coffee back on the table, when he directly looked at Harry, "I've got a question for you: Why did you go after Granger last night? Afterall, I was clearly under the impression that you had taken a disliking to her and her overall attitude, which I agree, leaves much to be desired."

Tilting his head to the side, Harry placed his mug back on the table, "You are correct. I'm not a big fan of her attitude and the way she treats those around her. But underneath her annoying façade she really is a smart and powerful witch – book-smart – but still very clever. She has great potential. Unfortunately, her know-it-all attitude, her sense of superiority and lack of understanding of the Wizarding world are in the way. A few pointers might push her in the right direction. I'm sure she's going to confront me. I might help her see her faults. Anyway, I really overheard Patil speak to Brown and was there, after Charms when Weasley insulted her. I detest bullying, therefore Weasley deserves to be punished. Also, no student should come face to face with a fully-grown Mountain Troll. Just what is the Headmaster thinking allowing such a creature into a school full of children, while also allowing Quirrell's schemes to continue? And I haven't even talked about his abysmal teaching."

"What are you going to tell her?" Severus inquired, sounding sincerely curious.

"I might point out some of her faults," Harry said shrugging his shoulder, "but most of all, I'm just going to give her a few books so she can find them herself. But enough of Granger."

The two turned back to their breakfast. It was a pleasant affair mostly spent in comfortable silence. Harry enjoyed this moment of peace before he would return to the noisy school. At least they had double potions today. Turning back to his scrambled eggs, he couldn't help but notice how much better the food was. Laying down his cutlery, Harry sighed, "I think it's time to go. I know it's still early…"

"Do you have your textbooks with you, or do you need to return to your dormitory?" Severus suddenly asked.

Crooking an eyebrow, Harry simply pointed at his satchel. Severus' lips twitched, "That's good. Do you have a moment? I've wanted to show you something for quite some time now."

A minute later, Harry was diving inside Severus' memory of the first staff meeting of the year. The Potions Master had wanted to show him for quite some time but had never found the right moment. Suddenly, Harry found himself inside the staff room. Severus had just entered. With a frown on his face, the man took the last available seat next to the twinkling Headmaster. Smiling brightly, the barmy old coot started the meeting, "Ah, Severus, my boy, I'm glad that you are here. Now that we are finally complete, I think it's time to start the meeting. Anything pressing you want to get off your chest?"

"The Weasley twins are suspiciously quiet," McGonagall immediately spoke, a frown on her face, "I don't trust this silence. I wonder what kind of prank they're hatching. Just think about the fireworks they set off last year during the second week. The Great Hall smelt burnt for several days."

In the end, it was agreed to keep an eye on the mischievous twins, before conversation turned towards the new first years. Flitwick and Sprout were delighted by their new protégés, while also stating that some students missed their parents or siblings terribly. Unsurprisingly, McGonagall had very little to say, before the attention of the teachers turned to the Head of Slytherin House.

"Severus," Dumbledore spoke, his voice failing to hide his special interest in the latest batch of Slytherins, "how are the young snakes faring?"

"Well," the dire man said pointedly.

Dumbledore's twinkle increased in intensity, "My boy, that can't be all."

A deep frown appeared on the potions master's face, "None of them suffer from homesickness and all are eager to study. No detentions and no disciplinary problems. I have nothing further to provide."

"But Severus, I cannot help but wonder about the latest additions to your house," the old goat-lover continued to drill, "especially not the two greatest sorting surprises since I started teaching here."

"What about Potter," Severus spat the name out like it was poison, "and Longbottom? They have easily blended in, they obey the school and house rules, and haven't caught any negative attention."

"I'm actually quite impressed with Mr. Longbottom," Sprout was beaming with pride, "he's a natural when it comes to Herbology. His understanding of the interaction between the different plants, soil types and the required length of sunlight is just lovely. He will thrive in the field of Herbology."

"But what about Mr. Potter?" the old geezer inquired, clearly not interested in the Longbottom heir, "is he managing to keep up with the classes? Or is he struggling?"

"Struggling?" McGonagall coughed, "not the slightest. He is easily in the top of the year, at least in Transfigurations. His theoretical and practical work is flawless. He always gives the right answer, often underlaid with extra knowledge that speaks of an in-depth understanding of the subject. And so far, he has managed to perform all Transfigurations on the first try."

One after another, each teacher, except Severus, confirmed this picture of Harry Potter, with Flitwick even stating that he had been considering to propose special tutoring to Harry since he had sensed that the Slytherin was rather underchallenged. The Headmaster looked slightly shocked, "Clearly, this must be a mistake. Are you sure that you aren't talking about Miss Granger?"

"Clearly not, Headmaster," Severus drawled, "Granger might be good, but Potter is better. Whereas Granger is reciting answers straight out of the textbook and manages to brew potions following the official instructions, Potter has a deep understanding of the subject, the interaction between the ingredients and different techniques. Unlike Granger, he is able to deviate from the recipes, shortening or even enhancing the brewing process."

"You are allowing one of your students to deviate from the instructions?" McGonagall asked incredulously, "you never do that, Severus!"

Rolling his eyes, the dire man calmly met the eyes of the Deputy Headmistress, "I only allow those to brew freely who know what they are doing and are aware of the consequences of their doings. Most dunderheads simply aren't. For the sake of everybody's safety, they are thus forced to follow the official instructions."

"A Potter with talent for potions?" Flitwick spoke in awe, "he must have inherited that from Lily."

"No, he's better than his mother ever was," Severus snorted, carefully avoiding her name since it still hurt, "he will receive advanced Potions tutoring starting next Sunday. Every week. For three hours."

At that point, Dumbledore almost lost control over his facial masks. Sadly, the memory turned blurry after that. The last thing he heard was somebody, presumably McGonagall, saying that the staff meeting shouldn't revolve around one student and that they still had other urgent matters to discuss.

Harry was emitted back into the Potions Master's personal quarters, a wide grin on his face.

"Entertaining?" Severus inquired, his obsidian eyes sparkling mischievously. Harry's smile only grew wider. Sadly, he had classes to attend.

The next few days, he constantly felt Granger's eyes on him. Harry knew that the bushy hair witch had burning questions on her lips, questions she could only ask Harry. But so far, she hadn't approached him. Probably because he was rarely alone since Draco and Neville usually accompanied him everywhere.

But today was different. It was Thursday and the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was only three days away. After the last class of the day, Charms, Draco had left for the Quidditch pitch to get some additional practise. Neville had a meeting scheduled with Professor Sprout to discuss additional tutoring. This left Harry alone for a few hours until Quidditch practise would start at six. Harry had decided to go to the library. But not because he had something urgent to research or homework to do. Granger loved spending every minute possible there. He wasn't disappointed as he heard feet approaching ten minutes after he had settled down in a remote corner of the massive room.

Stopping in front of his table, Granger audibly cleared her throat, "Are you waiting for someone, or is this seat unoccupied?"

Granger seemed to be on her best manners today. Not looking up from his reading, Harry chuckled quietly, "No, Draco and Neville are busy. Be my guest."

He heard Granger fishing in her bag for something until she finally pulled out her homework, "Are you also working on the Charms essay? We could work together."

"No, already finished that during class," Harry said, this time looking up into Granger's wide eyes, "you know that. You kept watching me like a hawk during Charms. What do you really want, Granger?"

The bushy Gryffindor was biting her lip, squirming under his gaze, "Why… why did you come after me… You know… on Halloween? And why… why did you tell Professor McGonagall about Weasley?"

"I don't like bullies and what Weasley did to you was bullying," Harry said bluntly, "it wouldn't have been fair for you to be punished. You wouldn't have been there had it not been for Weasley's bullying. And I came after you because somebody had to."

"What do you mean?" Granger asked with big, tear-filled eyes.

"I've told the truth when I said that I overheard Patil and Brown in the entrance hall talking about you," Harry spoke softly, "a lot of people, in fact all of your fellow Gryffindors knew that you were in that bathroom, yet none lifted a finger to try to warn you. Somebody had to do something; and luckily I did."

The bushy hair witch flinched at the last remark, a tear rolling down her face, "But… but how did you know that… nobody would… that nobody would…"

Her voice broke after that. Harry leaned forward to pat her shoulder, "Sorry, Granger, if I'm talking rather bluntly. But to be honest, you aren't the most popular. I haven't seen you with a single person outside of class. You're always alone, most of the time hiding in the library. In all those weeks at Hogwarts, haven't you at least tried making friends?"

Granger was sobbing by that point, "They… they… would never listen to… to me…"

Just as Harry had expected, "I see. Honestly, I'm not surprised. None of the Gryffindor boys are interested in academics, their heads only revolving around sports – football for Thomas and Quidditch for the rest. The girls? While Lavender Brown and Eloise Midgen are mostly interested in beauty and girly things, Parvati Patil and Romilda Vane are relatively studious. Certainly not obsessed like you are, Granger, but they're above average. Have you ever tried to talk to them?"

Granger looked up from her hands, her eyes red, "I… I did… I talked to them… But they… they never listen…"

"And why is that?" Harry asked, his voice bearing a mocking undertone, "is it because you talked to them like you talk to everybody else?"

A confused expression appeared on Granger's face, "Wha… What do you mean?"

"Did you talk to them in your usual 'know-it-all' manner?" Harry's voice turned more calculating, his head slightly tilted to the side observing the Gryffindor's reaction to his words, "did you lecture them on the classes? On Hogwarts? On Magic itself? On the differences between the Magical and the Muggle world? On the superiority of the Muggle world as opposed to the stagnant Magical one? Now, did you?"

Granger stared at him incredulously, "How did you know?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry stated, refusing to be distracted, " did you ?"

"Yes, but why…"

But Harry cut her short, "Do you even realize what you are doing? I suppose you've based your knowledge on the Magical world on the few texts you've read, beginner's text mostly. This knowledge doesn't even cover a fraction of the history, traditions and achievements of the Magical world. Our world is much older and much more complicated than you can imagine. But back to your dormmates. Out of the five girls, you are the only Muggle born. The other four are either Half-Bloods or Pureblood, all descendants of old and proud lines of Magic wielders. They've grown up in the Magical world – a world they're genuinely proud of. With unrestricted access to the rich knowledge of magic, knowledge which is passed from generation to generation. Do you know, what's the most important thing to the old Pureblood lines? It's not money or their estates. It's their family name. Along with the knowledge, history and achievements connected to it. Because of that, and the low birth rate within the Magical community, most old lines have become obsessed with persevering and passing down this ancient knowledge. Now you come into the picture, Granger. Let me ask you a question. How do they feel when a Muggle born like you waltzes into their world and starts insulting what's most important to those who have grown up in the Magical world? How would you feel, if a Wizard or Witch came to you before you had become aware of Magic, declaring that the Muggle world and its traditions are barbaric and backwards? That's how they feel. And since the current political climate is rather hostile towards critiques of Muggleborns, your dormmates stay quiet instead of addressing your lack of knowledge and manners. You will never be accepted among your peers or the Magical community if you do not try to understand their world – I'm not talking about adopting their views – simply understanding and respecting their point of view."

With that, he ceased talking, observing Granger. Throughout his rant, her face had been through a rollercoaster of emotions, from being insulted, confused, to shock, and dawning understanding. Harry could see the wheels inside her head turning, her jaw slightly unhinged before it finally snapped shut. He could feel that she had come to a conclusion. Harry wasn't surprised by her reaction as she pushed her chair back, "You won't find the information in the library. But I could lend you this book."

Under the critical eye of Granger, he reached for his satchel, pulling out an old tome. Granger snatched the book out of his hands, eagerly scanning the title before turning to Harry, " An Introduction to Magical History and Traditions by Iola Black. Where did you get this from?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "I bothered to ask when I was purchasing my books, having grown up in the Muggle world myself. According to the shop assistant, this book was required for every student who hadn't grown up in the Magical world while Professor Dippet was still Headmaster. I don't know why it was removed from the booklist afterwards. Anyway, it might be a bit outdated but still provides a good overview of the history and traditions of the Magical world. Trust me, it's much better than Binns' rant about Goblins."

An outraged expression appeared on Granger's face, "How can you say that about a teacher?"

Harry chuckled, "Everybody's complaining about Binns. Come on, Granger, he failed to realize his own death and doesn't care who's sitting in front of him. All he does is rant about Goblin wars. He hasn't done anything to explain anything remotely interesting and useful about the Magical world. Because of him, the Magical world only seems to be more impalpable to those unfamiliar with it. And don't lie. I know you've thought the same. This on the other hand is much more useful. Read it and you'll see. If you have any questions, ask. You know where to find me. You must excuse me now. Quidditch training is about to start."

With that, he left a startled and speechless Hermione Granger behind.

Sunday morning, Harry had to drag Draco to the Great Hall. His face was paler than usual. The blonde was a bundle of nerves since he hadn't slept much last night. At the sight of the rich and greasy food on the Slytherin table, he turned slightly green. Harry on the other hand wasn't nervous and quickly sat down to pile his plate. He couldn't wait to mount his new Nimbus 2000, to leave the ground and feel the cold air on his face.

After ten minutes, it became obvious that Draco wasn't going to eat anything. Rolling his eyes, Harry filled the blonde's plate with a few slices of toast. It wouldn't be a good idea to play Quidditch on an empty stomach. At the end of breakfast, Draco still hadn't eaten much but at least he wasn't running on an empty stomach any more. Looking at his fellow Chaser, Harry grabbed his broom and stood up, "Time to go, Draco."

They had just left the castle behind, when they heard hasty steps behind them, "Harry, wait!"

Both Harry and Draco turned around and watched as Granger raced after them. A sneer appeared on Draco's face, "What do you want, Granger?"

Panting heavily, the Gryffindor stopped in front of them, "I… I just want to wish you good luck on your first Quidditch game… and… and thank you for the book, Harry. It has been very… enlightening. Maybe we could talk about it later."

"Thanks, Granger," Harry replied with a smile, "we will talk. Probably not today. I'll be in the library on Tuesday. I'm sorry to cut the conversation short, but the game will start soon."

Draco grilled him with questions until they finally reached the changing room. The blonde wasn't pleased by Harry's interest in the Muggleborn know-it-all but promised to not intervene. In the end, Flint delivered his impressive speech and the team entered the Quidditch pitch. They were welcomed by loud cheers from the Slytherin house, which was almost completely drowned by the loud booing from the three other houses. Afterall, Slytherin had won the House Cup the last few years in a row, ever since the legendary Charlie Weasley had left the school.

Flint and Oliver Wood, the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, shook hands under the careful eyes of Madam Hooch. A shrill whistle later, fourteen brooms shot in the air. Harry quickly chased after the Quaffle. He managed to get his hand on it fractions of a second before Katie Bell, one of the Gryffindor Chasers, could have. Shooting down into a steep dive, he managed to bypass two Bludgers and an attack from Angelina Johnson, another Chaser. He quickly passed the Quaffle to Draco, who was tailed by Alicia Spinnet. The blonde easily managed to outfly the Gryffindor Chaser, and continued to head for the Gryffindor goals. A few seconds later, he successfully scored the first goal. The Slytherin stand erupted into cheers.

Twenty minutes and some fantastic attacks later, the Slytherin team was leading 90 to 10. Their Chasers were simply too superior. Both Harry and Draco had performed quite a few high-risk manoeuvres, all of which had paid off. Johnson was still looking warily at him after the almost vertical dive he had pulled off. Also, the Weasley twins seemed to be at their wits ends. They had constantly tried to hit him with Bludgers, none of which had hit home. Some of them would have hit him if it hadn't been for Tom who had always warned him at the last second. But nobody needed to know that.

Harry had just passed the Quaffle to Flint, when his broom suddenly jerked to the right. Narrowing his eyes at the disobedient broom, Harry tried to chase after the other Chasers. But his broom didn't react. Instead, it continued to shake, rising higher in the process. The crowd underneath was pointing at him, screaming. Not caring about the noise, Harry continued to hold on. Focussing his magic on the broom, Harry felt the Dark Magic trying to get hold. Someone was cursing his broom. Following the foreign magic while also trying to hold onto the increasingly shaking Nimbus, his eyes landed on the teacher's stand. Quirrell's eyes were fixated on the broom while a few rows lower, Severus' were equally glued on his Nimbus trying to counteract the Dark curse. But Harry would take care of the problem himself.

Focussing his own magic on the broom, he easily weakened Quirrell's curse enough to regain a certain amount of control over his Nimbus. Gripping the handle tightly, he jerked it towards the teacher's stand. Moments later, he crashed into several teachers, coincidentally knocking Quirrell out thus breaking his curse. Shouting a few excuses, he quickly jumped on his broom and set off again. He watched with glee as Quirrell was carried away on a stretcher. Tom even went as far as congratulating him on his great aim, making Harry snort before he chased after Spinnet.

Thirty minutes later, the Snitch finally made an appearance. But by then, Slytherin had expanded its lead. Gryffindor was now tailing behind 30 to 210. Harry's trained eyes followed the two seekers. The Gryffindor seeker Cormac McLaggen, Rory McLaggen's brother, had almost caught up to the Snitch which was heading in Harry's direction. Stealing Warrington's Beaters club, he quickly sent a Bludger in the seeker's direction. With a satisfying crunch, the Bludger hit home allowing Adrian Pucey to catch up on the Snitch. Moments later, the Slytherin team had added another 150 points to their score.

The Slytherin stands erupted into ear-piercing cheers once more while McLaggen was transferred onto a stretcher to be transported to the Hospital Wing. It would be a busy day for Madam Pomfrey. And no matter what the Gryffindors said, Harry's move hadn't been a foul. Seekers could be targeted by Bludgers if they had spotted the Snitch and the rules didn't explicitly deny any players the use the Beaters cubs.

Once he and Draco had changed out of their Quidditch robes and taken a shower, they met up with Neville to visit Hagrid – much to Draco's annoyance, "I don't understand why we have to go there."

Rolling his eyes, Harry got hold of the blonde's robe to drag him along, "I told you the stupid oaf invited me. Like you, I would much rather be in the common room to celebrate our victory, but I simply cannot shake off the thought that a certain headmaster wants me to visit his favourite pet giant. Just think about what the giant oaf is going to let slip next."

That shut Draco and Neville down. After the incident with the three-headed dog, Harry had revealed a few of his secrets – overall not too important or juicy ones since neither Draco or Neville were that advanced in Occlumency to withstand an attack by the old goat - to the two, mostly concerning his suspicions of the headmaster and Quirrell. He had mostly explained his suspicion by the fact that Dumbledore had never checked on him during all those years at the Dursleys and the Compulsions he had sensed. Draco of course had shared his thoughts, which wasn't a surprise concerning his upbringing. Neville's thoughts on the other hand did. Augusta Longbottom had warned her only grandchild of the manipulative nature of the headmaster and told Neville to stay away from the man. Tom was impressed. Augusta Longbottom had always been a smart and cunning woman. How she didn't end up in Slytherin still baffled him. Unlike her son and his wife, she had never openly declared her support for either side of the war. A clever decision if you considered what good it had done to Frank and Alice Longbottom. Dumbledore's manipulation had painted the same target on their back as on the Potters' – and Augusta seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

Twenty minutes later, they were all seated at Hagrid's crudely crafted table, steaming cups of tea in front of them. They had been discussing the Quidditch match and just reached the topic of Harry's broom. Putting his mug down, Neville stopped Hagrid's rant about malfunctioning brooms, "It was Quirrell. Draco and I saw him. He was cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off Harry."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands before Harry had crashed into several of the teachers, "why would Quirrell do something like that?"

The trio looked at each other, wondering how to continue. Draco decided on the most direct approach, "We found out something about him on the night of Halloween. He tried to get past the three-headed dog but luckily Uncle Severus caught him. We think that he was trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot, "How do you know 'bout Fluffy?"

" Fluffy ?" the blonde asked incredulously.

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chap I met in a pub las' year – I lend him to Dumbledore to guard the–"

Now this was getting interesting.

"Yes?" Harry inquired.

"Now, don't ask me any more," Hagrid said gruffly, "that's top secret, that is."

"But Quirrell tried to steal it!" Neville protested.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid once more, "Quirrell's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try to kill Harry?" Draco cried out, obviously not impressed with Dumbledore's favourite pet giant, "I know a curse when I see one, Hagrid. I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Quirrell wasn't even blinking at all, I saw when I flew past the stands!"

What a clever move from the Malfoy heir, Tom thought. The gigantic oaf was shifting nervously under their gaze. Draco's words had hit a soft spot without revealing too much. Of course, Lucius had educated his son on the Dark Arts and shown him curses. If one of his year mates would spot a Dark Curse, it would be Draco who was clever enough to lie about his source of information.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly, "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Quirrell wouldn't try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh – yer meddlin' on things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel –"

"Aha!" said Draco, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

The giant oaf looked furious with himself and paled, "Shouldn't have said that."

"That was enlightening," Neville remarked once they had left Hagrid's archaic hut.

"Yes, it was," Harry said quietly, and the Dark Lord couldn't help but agree. Nicolas Flamel's involvement could only mean one thing: The Philosopher's Stone, the creation the legendary alchemist was most renowned for. Tom's mind was spinning. He had known about the friendship and the joint research of Dumbledore and Flamel, known that they went a long way back. But to see Flamel somehow trust the old goat with the stone - his and his wife Perenelle's life insurance since it was their source of immortality – surprised him. Over the years, many had tried to get their hands on the legendary stone, yet all had failed. The protection on the stone was said to be as legendary as the stone itself. Since the Horcruxes had ensured his immortality, Tom hadn't cared much for the stone. Until now. The Philosopher's Stone could ease his and Harry's plans considerably. And if his assumptions were right, the old manipulative codger had just placed the very stone inside the school.

Kicking the grass, Draco suddenly lifted his voice, "Nicolas Flamel! I've heard that name before!"

"It sounds familiar," Neville added, while staring at the nearing castle ahead, "but I can't place it."

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry said, "You've probably read it on the Chocolate Frog cards…"

But before he could continue, Draco exclaimed, "No, that's impossible! I've got each and every card at home! All 573! And there isn't one of Nicolas Flamel!"

Harry snorted, "Flamel might not have his own card, but he's mentioned on one – on Dumbledore's card actually. As far as I remember, the two of them have collaborated in the past. Something about Alchemy…"

"Alchemy?" Draco asked, his eyes were wide open while his brows seemed to disappear behind his hairline.

"Jup," Harry said, popping the 'p', "Nicolas Flamel was born in 1326 and…"

"1326?!" Draco exclaimed in disbelief, "that's not possible!"

Rolling his eyes at the blonde's antics, Harry sighed, "Would you please let me finish, Draco?"

"Sorry," the blonde said sheepishly, carefully avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Anyway," Harry continued his explanation, "Nicolas Flamel is renowned for his work in the fields of Alchemy. Together with Dumbledore, Flamel discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood, which was published a few years after the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. But in contrast to Flamel's greatest creation, this discovery almost seems to be insignificant."

"What did he create?" Neville asked slightly breathlessly.

"The Philosopher's Stone," Harry explained, his voice low, "a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal, the reason why Flamel and his wife are still alive. I believe that the stone is here at Hogwarts, guarded by that three-headed dog, Fluffy. "

"But why would Flamel willingly part with such a priceless object and allow it to be placed inside a school?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Draco, my dear," Harry purred, a Cheshire grin on his face, "that's the one million Galleon question."

"And why would Professor Quirrell be after the stone?" Neville continued.

"Congratulations, Longbottom," Harry said in a voice reminiscent of Severus Snape, "that's the second one million Galleon question. And I intend to figure out both."