Harry crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole; his cloak wrapped tightly around him, leaving Ron still snoring in his bed. He was pretty sure that fitting a cloak around two clandestine readers was much harder than fitting it around one. Harry was tired of spending all of his time in the library-he wanted answers.
"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady when he opened the portrait hole. Harry said nothing.
He walked quickly down the corridor towards the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was.
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Without Madam Pince's near constant huffing, the muttering of students and the occasional flutter of a turning page-the library lost the homey feel that it had during the daytime. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.
The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.
Steeling himself, Harry reached for the book closest to him; after all, he had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he eased the book open. The tome was useless; it was written in a language he couldn't understand. Harry frowned and closed the book, reaching for another. And that's when he heard it. Footsteps; someone was coming his way.
There was nothing he could do about the lamp; he didn't know any spell that could turn out a light. So Harry just wrapped his cloak more firmly around himself and sank back into the shadows. A figure, tall and thin, could just be made out in the dim moonlight. Harry did not stick around to find out who else had had the desire for some late-night reading. Without pursuing the books further, Harry slunk off back towards Gryffindor Tower, the taste of defeat heavy on his tongue.
If Ron noticed that Harry was in a bad mood for the next couple of days he didn't say anything. Ron Weasely was not one to pry; an attribute that was simultaneously wonderful and annoying. Harry still hadn't told him about his sojourn into the school after hours-a trip that had been an objective failure. Harry was still bitter about it. Despite the fact that he and Ron had poured over what seemed like every book in the library-they were no closer to finding the answer to Harry's burning questions.
"Cheer up mate." Ron said, just a few days before the New Year.
They were sitting in the Common Room, Ron doing his long overdue homework and Harry flipping forlornly through a rather battered copy of Recent Developments in Wizarding History Vol II.
Harry sighed and closed the book, "I can't Ron."
"Sure you can." Ron counted, "It's only a matter of time. The bloke has to have his name printed somewhere-and you've got three of the cleverest minds in Hogwarts-"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Alright that was a bit of an exaggeration-but Dean's pretty smart- working with you. We'll find him Harry-I promise."
Harry couldn't help but smile at the earnest expression on Ron's face.
"Thanks, Ron." He said.
It was nice to have friends that wanted to make you feel better, he reflected and with a sigh, flipped open his book once more.
In what seemed like no time at all, students began arriving back from Christmas break. Dean and Seamus arrived in their dorm room looking very happy and well-rested. Ron seemed pleased to have someone to speak with besides the increasingly sullen Harry and Fidelius the cat mourned the loss of all the wrapping paper to play with.
Classes began once more, but Harry was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate as his thoughts kept wandering back to the library.
"Watch it mate!" Seamus exclaimed, grabbing Harry's wand arm and preventing him from casting. Professor McGonagall glared at them from the front of the room, Ron gave her a cheeky wave in response.
"You nearly took my eye out!" Seamus hissed indignantly, "You have to watch what you're doing!"
"I was." Harry hissed back, embarrassed for having been caught with his mind wandering.
Seamus rolled his eyes and shook his head. Harry felt his anger spiking. When class ended, he swept out of the room without a word to any of his friends, though he did catch Dean looking worried out of the corner of his eye. He headed straight for the library, his mind awhirl with irritation and a growing sense of desperation. His friends didn't understand-whatever was hidden was time sensitive. Snape was trying to get it, and Snape was bad news. Why his friends couldn't comprehend his single-mindedness, Harry would never understand.
The library was nearly empty when he got there. Madam Pince was sitting behind her desk as usual. A couple of upper classmen were scattered around the library, each concentrated on his or her own material, and in Harry's favorite corner of the library sat Hermione Granger. Harry strangled the new wave of irritation that crested inside him; Hermione had just as much right to sit in that corner as he did. Just because he was having a bad day didn't mean that he could be mean to her. She hadn't done anything to him.
Harry made his way over to the corner anyway, nodding in greeting to Hermione as he did. He couldn't help but notice that Hermione looked a little worse for the ware. He usually frizzy hair was frizzier that normal, and there were large bags under her eyes. Her eyes were also puffy, like she had recently been crying. Harry ignored the pang of sympathy he felt. He didn't have time to go and befriend know-it-all Ravenclaws just because they made him feel guilty.
As he passed, Hermione shifted in her seat. Harry glanced down at the book that Hermione was pouring over.
Nicolas Flamel is the-
Harry nearly did such a double take that his neck muscles contracted in protest. In an instant he was next to Hermione, leaning over her to better look at the page she was reading.
His sudden movement startled her and her head snapped up.
"Can I help you?" she asked guardedly, her shoulders hunching inward, as if preparing for an assault.
"Where did you get this book?" Harry asked.
"I-I got it out of the library weeks ago, for a bit of light reading." Hermione stuttered, seemingly surprised at his question.
"Do you mind if I take a look at it for a moment?" he asked as politely as he could while his heart pounded away in his chest.
"N-no. Of course not!" Hermione said, sliding the book over to him at once.
Harry grabbed the book and scanned the slightly worn page for the passage that had caught his eye.
The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, 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. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).
Harry felt as if his heart had burst from his chest. He couldn't believe it. After weeks and weeks of searching, he finally had found his answer. A stone that will ensure the user never dies! That's what the dog is guarding! That's what Snape wants!
Beaming, Harry looked up from the book at a very flushed Hermione.
"Do you mind if I barrow this?" he asked, "I'll give it back-I just have to show my mates something."
Hermione just stared at him like she had never seen him before.
"Uh-do you mind." Harry felt the anxiety turning in his stomach, he just had to show Ron, Dean and Seamus what he had found!
Hermione blinked as though startled out of a trance, "Um, yes, of course."
"Thanks!" Harry shouted as he ran out of the library, ignoring a very pointed look from Madam Pince and sparing not a glance for the girl now sitting alone at the library table.
He found Ron, Dean and Seamus in the Common Room. Before any of them could even greet him, Harry slammed the book down on the table in front of them and pointed to the passage.
"Read it!" he commanded, and his friends moved to comply.
"See?" he exclaimed. Dean looked up at him in wonder. Ron looked gleeful, while Seamus still seemed slightly confused.
"The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!" Harry explained.
"A stone that stops you from ever dying." Seamus muttered, "Bloody hell."
"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"
"No, he wouldn't be!" Harry crowed. His face hurt from smiling. He had never felt more elated in his entire life. His friends grinned back at him, seemingly equally thrilled. Finally he knew what Snape was up to!
"Well, what do we do now?" Ron asked.
Harry looked at him, "Now? Now we tell Professor Dumbledore."