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Not Potter and the Stupid Stone
Chapter Seventeen
Noel
I noticed, with fascination, how my entire face seemed to rise with joy as I stepped onto the Hogwarts express and started looking for Laura and Hermione. Christmas itself had been nice, almost like a journey into the past, but the rest of break had been quite lonesome and bleak. I spent most of my time in my room, leaving only to return dirty dishes or get a new book from one of the libraries. I had only had to face my parents one other time, for another dinner, just after they had got back from the Noble Blood Christmas Gala. I pushed the thoughts of that wretched silent dinner out of my mind, as I looked in one of the compartment windows to find it containing just the two friends I had been searching for. As I opened the door, I was immediately greeted by Laura's familiar chatter, which was so infamous for filling any gap of silence in my life at Hogwarts.
"Noel! It's so good to see you," she smiled, standing up from her seat to embrace me, "you cannot understand how much I loved your present! To think that I can be anywhere and choose a book to fit my mood, you have no clue how amazing that is! Anyways, you have to tell me more about your Christmas; your letters were so brief, to the point that Hermione practically wrote me a novel in comparison."
Hermione blushed a bit where she was sitting, before clearing her voice to scoff, "I did not."
"I don't know," I replied, hovering a mocking tone, "that one I got from you had to be at least a novella."
We all took a moment to laugh, as I began to push my luggage to the shelving above our seats. Laura allowed me just enough time to put my suitcase away before pressing her next question.
"So, tell me about your Christmas. You spent it with Javier in your library?" She questioned, although we all knew she had an almost perfect memory when it came to stories people told her. She had the tendency to try to keep up a good conversation, whether or not the topic being discussed was one of prior remembrance.
"You have a library in your house?" Hermione added, clear interest showing.
"Actually, we have two. And yes, that is where we spent our Christmas. It was perfectly lovely and reminded me how Javier used to be before he got all serious and prefect-y."
"Is that how you used to spend Christmas when you were young, then? Before Javier went to Hogwarts?" She clarified.
I allowed myself a small chuckle, "No, not at all. Before Javier went to Hogwarts, we were still living at the original Avery Manor, in France; not the villa I told you about either. It's this absolutely massive place in the south of France that has been in our family for hundreds of years. It's where my father and his siblings lived before their schooling days, too."
Hermione took this moment to interject, "Are you saying, that you're French. Like born and originally raised in France?"
"Well yes," I replied, "I have dual citizenship. I was very young when we moved to England, though. We used to visit all the time, but the trips have been getting less frequent. Sometimes I even miss Javier and my cousins running around during the holidays, following me around, shouting, 'Joyeux Noel, Noel'" I continued listening and responding to Laura and Hermione's questions, happy for the noise after weeks of silence. I didn't even mind when Laura badgered me to speak in French, after she learned that I could.
Je les adore.
Laura
When I finally got back to Hogwarts, my hopes of Ron and Harry finding Flamel were crushed, as all Harry seemed to talk about was some mirror that showed you your deepest desire. I had longed to talk about this mysterious man with the group, yet, with no information, a conversation would have been impossible to hold. I wished this mirror Harry droned on about were still in the abandoned classroom, though, because, if I looked into it, we wouldn't have to go to the library anymore - we would know who Flamel is.
Though the longing to uncover a mystery was put to ease, in time. Luckily, I found comfort in hearing about the many adventures my friends went on over the break. For the next couple of weeks, the break still remained a priority when it came to conversation and storytelling. But, in time, we made our way back towards our collective adventures, as they continued once again.
One of those transitioning points came when all five of us were in the common room. Hermione sat with a book, of that I assumed was a textbook. Noel was aggressively scribbling some notes on a piece of paper, while Ron scolded her for being too loud. Harry seemed to be worried about something, as he paced around the room. And I, throughout this, happily sat, minding my own business, and trying to finish the current book that I had been reading. Soon after I finished chapter fourteen, I heard someone speak up, diverting my attention.
"You'll never guess what I found out, at Quidditch practice." Harry began, dreadfully.
"Huh...?" Hermione beckoned, not looking up from her book.
"Snape is the referee for the next Quidditch game." He replied, sulkily.
"Don't go." Ron said, sternly.
"Say you're sick." I chimed.
"Say you broke your ankle." Hermione added, somewhat laughing.
"Actually, break your ankle." Noel said, seriously considering the option.
"The team is counting on me." He said, conflicted.
"You can't let him curse you again." She continued; her tone was stricken.
"But there's no reserve." He explained, "Gryffindor won't be able to play without me."
Just then, the creak of the portrait rang through the air. In came Neville, practically falling through, his legs were bound together by some sort of charm. No, not charm; curse, curse for sure. A leg-locker curse. A horrid sight to see, and a cruel prank on a weaker student. I smiled at the humor in it, yet my heart ached for the boy. He didn't deserve such public embarrassment.
While the room exploded in laughter and whispered mockery, Hermione, serious as could be, and, suddenly, paying attention to her surroundings, muttered the counter-curse at his legs. Noel smirked from behind her, attempting to assess the situation.
"Neville, what happened?" She said, stifling back laughter.
"Draco said he wanted to practice," he sighed.
"I wouldn't usually say this," I said, filled with mild frustration, "but you should report him."
"Oh, no," Neville replied, shaking his head. "No, I don't want trouble."
"You've got to stand up to him!" Ron insisted, 'you can't just lay down and let him walk all over you!"
"Ron's right! He's used to getting what he wants; you have to fight back." Noel added. There was a glint of competition in her eyes, some sort of longing to be better than the boy.
"There's no need telling me I'm not brave enough," he said hopelessly, "Malfoy already made sure I knew that."
"Not brave enough?" I questioned. "The sorting hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? Clearly Draco doesn't understand the meanings of each house, then, for him to say such a thing."
"You're worth twelve of Malfoy." Harry said, offering Neville a chocolate frog and a reassuring smile. "You're here with us. He's stuck in stinking Slytherin."
At Harry's remark, Neville almost smiled in spite of himself. A moment of solitude and peace was felt throughout the room, as though the loyalty to a fellow Gryffindor had stilled the air. He finished the chocolate frog, and glanced at the empty card in his hands. His eyes dulled at the one he held; probably had gotten another repeat.
"You collect these, don't you?" He questioned, offering the card back to Harry.
"Yeah," he said, taking it. "Thanks."
As Neville walked away, Harry flipped over the card and began reading back. His eyes began to widen as he looked at the words.
"I knew it!" Harry exclaimed, shoving the card under our noses. I quickly looked at the card, which stated Dumbledore as the famous wizard it contained.
"Don't you already have one of Dumbledore?" Ron asked.
"No," he said, passing it over, "read it."
My eyes scanned the paragraph. Dumbledore... famous... defeat... 1945... dragon's blood... alchemy... Nicolas Flamel... WAIT!
I began to quickly reread the card, aloud, "his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!"
"Wait here." Hermione said, jumping up, and sprinting towards the girls' dorm. In a minute's time, she had rushed back down the stairs, a ginormous book clutched against her arms and chest. I was shocked it didn't crush her, and mildly impressed she managed the stairs without falling.
"I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading." She said, the book slamming down on the table.
"Light?" Ron asked, his eyes widening. He peered cautiously at the book, which was the size of a small child and at least two thousand pages thick. Hermione, then, turning to the right page, began to read aloud.
"'Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone.'" She said, quoting a sentence.
"Oh! I know this one," Noel added in, "the Sorcerer's Stone is a legendary substance that can only be crafted through alchemy. It turns any metal into pure gold and dispenses the elixir of life."
"The elixir of life? You mean it can make someone immortal?" I asked.
"Exactly." She replied, nodding my way.
"And who would want immortality through such a highly valued, and safely-kept object...?" Hermione gave such a look at finishing the sentence that an answer was provided internally to us all.
Snape.
