Chapter 12: Elixir of Life

"I had you looking in the wrong section! How could I be so stupid?!" Hermione chastised herself, rounding the corner into an isolated reading nook in the Hogwarts library. She was carrying a text that rattled the desk when she slammed it onto the tabletop, causing Neville and Ron to jump. Both boys stared. The volume their friend had retrieved had to be as heavy as little Harry Potter's entire body mass index, and maybe even thicker than their classmate. Hermione didn't seem intimidated by the book's density, flipping through it with an exasperated huff. "I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading…"

"If this is light for you, I'd love to know what difficult looks like…." Ron lifted an eyebrow. If he had to consider what material Hermione might find challenging, he would have to guess NEWT level lessons the seventh years took.

Hermione sent him a reproachful glare from under her bushy bangs. "Always the tone of surprise…" she muttered, consulting the index. More page flipping. A small lull of silence during which she read, even as Neville and Ron craned their necks from across the table, in an attempt to track what she was reading, and while, in their line of vision, the book was upside-down.

Finally, Hermione let out a triumphant gasp. "Of course! Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"The what?!" Ron and Neville chorused.

Hermione lifted her head to ponder them, big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Honestly, don't you two read?"

Ron scowled, but kept his powder dry. "Well…. what does it do?"

It marveled Neville how Hermione could get into such a zone when flipping through pages. He wondered how she could concentrate on something so arcane. "Here it is: the Sorcerer's Stone. The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone can transform any metal into pure gold. It will also produce the Elixir of Life, making the drinker immortal."

"Immortal?"

"It means you'll never die," Hermione qualified to Ron absently, hardly even looking at him, so engrossed was she in her text.

"I know what it means!" Ron growled hotly, but Neville shushed him. His mind was racing. An ancient, powerful, and therefore clearly very desirable, magical object, which apparently had something to do with its maker (Nicholas Flamel), Dumbledore, the Headmaster, and the three-headed dog currently imprisoned inside the school.

"Hang on," he backtracked to one thread. "It's called the Sorcerer's Stone, yet the definition describes it as a substance – one that a person can drink. So which is it, exactly? What is it – a solid or a liquid?"

Ron folded his arms over the top half of the giant book, playfully holding firm when Hermione tried to nudge him away from blocking the small type. "Does it matter? They're saying it's the most sought-after achievement in all of alchemical scholarship – what difference does it make what form it takes?"

Neville side-eyed his buddy, amused. "Are you even aware how much you sounded like Hermione just then? Talk like her much more and people will wonder if you're married to her." He was deliciously satisfied when both his mates stiffened and blushed.

"The Stone's state of matter is irrelevant," Hermione declared. "The important thing is it has something to do with Hogwarts, what with how jumpy Hagrid got over Nicholas Flamel…"

All at once, the entire answer descended on Neville with a clarity that seemed almost divine. "Hagrid got jumpy about it because the Stone is here – in the castle. You were right all along, Hermione – the dog was guarding something, and this is it. The Stone – that's what the dog's guarding!" He paused. "And I think there are people in this castle who are trying to steal it."

"Like who?"

"The night I went into the Restricted Section, I nearly got caught by Snape and Quirrell. They were having some sort of argument. Snape told Quirrell he wouldn't be stealing any secrets from the castle without him knowing…. Well, I'm guessing the existence of the Stone here in Hogwarts would constitute a pretty big secret!"

Hermione looked appalled. "You think members of the staff are trying to get their hands on the Stone?"

"I think at least either Quirrell or Snape are. Possibly both of them," Neville theorized.

"So let's say it's both of them," Ron jumped in. "Trying to get their hands on the Stone. Why not join forces and work together to find it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, it might be that Quirrel and Snape each have their own designs for the Stone that also may work at cross-purposes with each other! They're probably racing each other to see who can get the Stone faster! No one wants to be out-hustled by a competitor."

"I guess the only question left is: assuming all these things about the Stone and our teachers wanting it are so, then what should we do about it?" Neville asked.

Ron shrugged. "Steal it first?"

"Ronald!"

"To protect it, Hermione, not use it! You think I wanna look this young, charming and handsome forever?"

"Ha, ha," Hermione jeered.

Neville ran his tongue over his bottom teeth. "We think we have a good idea of where the Stone is…. and we think we know who is after it…. so in order to steal the Stone to protect it…." He met eyes with Hermione across the table. "… We're going have to get in and down that trapdoor – tonight."

They spent the afternoon and evening following classes whispering in hushed tones about their mission. It cheered Neville that, unlike the last time she had been roped in to breaking the rules, Hermione no longer seemed to be an unwitting participant.

"We have to get out of the Common Room, and down to that third-floor room without being seen…" Neville pondered.

Ron quickly solved that problem. "Harry's Cloak. We can nick it from him after he's gone to sleep!"

"We're stealing two things in one night?!" Hermione barely kept her voice below a yelp. "Wait – why would a cloak of Harry's help us?"

"Because it's a rare Invisibility Cloak!" Ron's eyes gleamed. "Potter got it for Christmas! Apparently, it was an heirloom from his dad!"

Hermione was trying and failing to hide how intrigued she looked. "But why not just ask him if we can borrow it?"

Neville and Ron exchanged guilty looks. "Well…. because the last time we 'borrowed' it….. we didn't exactly ask."

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes in disappointment. "And I wonder how I got stuck with friends like these…."

"With friends like these, 'Mione," Ron's blue eyes danced. "who needs enemies?"

"You might not need enemies, Ronald, but you'll likely still get one in Harry if you keep nicking all his cool toys!"

"Hermione, we're only going to catch more questions if we do ask him for it!" Neville pointed out. "Besides, the last time Ron and I used it, Harry didn't say a damn word!"

Hermione growled, her ethical compass internally howling in protest. "Fine. As long as you know where he keeps it and can access it. But do be quiet about it!"

The Trio agreed to meet at the base of the dormitory stairs at midnight, once Ron and Neville were certain they would have the Cloak.

Their carefully concocted plan almost immediately hit a snag when the boys rummaged through Harry's trunk, only to find the Invisibility Cloak gone.

"Where's he put it?..." Ron growled, barely staving off panic, glancing at his watch. "If we try to sneak about in full view, we'd be almost asking to get caught before we even reach the…."

"Sssssh!" Neville shushed him. "All else fails, that's a risk we may have to take! We can't wait around until Snape or Quirrel has the Stone!"

They had to meet Hermione in the Common Room empty-handed. They had just resigned themselves to sneaking from Gryffindor Tower while out in the open when an armchair suddenly spun about, its occupant frowning at them.

Harry Potter peered at his classmates through his spectacles, the hem of the Invisibility Cloak dangling from his fingers. "Looking for this?"

"I told you it would be better to ask him for it…" Hermione swayed into Ron's side, mumbling under her breath.

"Oh, shut up, 'Mione….."

"Harry…." Neville tried to placate him, hands raised in surrender. "We just need to borrow it for a few hours…."

"Why?" Harry's hazel green eyes – suddenly piercing with an uncharacteristic intensity – roved over all three of them. Ron quickly grew impatient.

"You know, Potter, when I said at Christmas how you really needed to start standing up to people, this wasn't exactly what I meant….!"

"Did you ever think that I might be actually standing up for myself?" Harry parried. "I've been bullied my whole life!" His eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be, but I'm smaller than the rest of you lot – my own cousin's worth at least five of me! It doesn't matter if I might ask you what you intend to do with it, if it might risk getting our House in trouble – you'll just take it from me anyway!"

At this impassioned speech, Neville and Ron looked at each other, guilt acidicly lacerating their guts. Hermione stepped forward, granting Harry a sympathetic smile.

"Harry… we're sorry if we've ever made you feel like you're being all walked over. But what we need the Cloak for is really important. If I told you that we won't just take it from you by force, would you give it to us?"

Harry dipped his head, wilting, defeated. He nodded glumly, holding out the Cloak in his fist. "Take it. Just please be careful with it, and please give it back! It… it was my dad's."

Ron awkwardly shuffled forward to accept the wadded garment. As he and Neville moved for the portrait hole, Hermione bent over Harry, cupping his face in her hand as she kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Harry." The smaller boy turned bright red. Ron oddly looked put-out, bristling as Hermione all but skipped up to where the boys were waiting at the portrait hole.

"What the ruddy hell was that for?"

"It's called appreciation, Ron – something you and Neville could practice a lot more of!" Hermione clapped back.

All three could fit under the Cloak, but it was a near thing to make sure no one had seemingly disembodied limbs sticking out into open air. Carefully reaching back to the memory of Halloween while retracing their steps, Neville and his friends quickly found the room holding the three-headed dog.

When the sound of music reached their ears, Ron froze dead. "Someone's gotten here ahead of us! They're beating us to the Stone!"

Neville tried to stave off panic, noticing how the harp playing by itself in one corner was actually keeping the dog asleep, enough that it was snoring. "Maybe whoever's ahead of us will help clear a path for us to follow behind, so long as we make up enough ground!" There was a clear opening in the trapdoor, even under the pile of paws, and the three friends circled the hole until they were right up against its edge.

Neville felt his stomach drop as he glanced to his mates. "Who wants to go in first?"

Ron seemed to tell instantly what Neville was trying to convey. "It's OK to be scared, mate. I'll…. I'll go first." He scooted to the edge of the trapdoor. "I'll call up to you lot if I land safely…"

"When. When you land safely," Hermione corrected, though the look on her face was suddenly stricken.

"We don't know what's down there!" Ron pointed out. "If you don't hear anything, or for some reason I can't call to you, both of you get yourselves out and go find Dumbledore."

Neville and Hermione leerily nodded, agreeing to the plan. Ron took a deep breath, craning his neck to peer down into the gloomy abyss.

"Ronald! …. Be careful," Hermione implored.

Ron just sent her a tousled grin back. "What? I don't get a kiss too?"

Hermione's bow lips quirked, squirmed, vacillating indecisively between whether to smirk or frown. More telling, though, was how much she blushed. "Get to the bottom alive, carrot-top," she quipped. "Then we'll see."

Ron nudged forward until he was nearly hanging off the edge, then pushed himself off into the blackness.

To his credit, he didn't scream or cry out as he fell through space. Up above, Neville and Hermione strained their ears to listen for something hitting the ground – a THUMP, a SPLASH, anything. If there was a bottom and Ron had safely reached it, no sound indicated it to them.

But then, several agonizing moments later, they heard a shout from deep below. "I'M FINE!"

It was a mistake that nearly cost them.

Ron's shout suddenly woke the dog up. Neville's eyes bulged with terror. "Hermione, JUMP!" He and Hermione both dove for the gap almost at the same moment, dropping into the space within milliseconds of each other, barely outmaneuvering the snapping jaws of the three-headed dog.