Chapter Forty-Two
Platform 9 3/4, King's Cross Station, London, England, 7 January, 1991
He was happy to be going back to school.
How disgusting was that, to wish to go back to school at the end of the holidays? He barely knew himself anymore, it seemed.
He adjusted the leash around his wrist and sighed. The dog was coming back with him. After what had happened last week, his parents had insisted that he take the bloody dog with him to school.
Draco had been acting… odd recently, smirking at the dog, whistling, and being altogether much too chipper for someone with so much weight on his skinny shoulders.
He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. He was wearing the one Marvela had given him for Christmas, and he was pleased to find that it was also under permanent warming and water-wicking charms.
His mother fussed over his tie and naturally disheveled hair, seeming to forget that no charm she'd ever tried could get his sandy hair to lie flat, nor could any potions or tonics.
Sighing, she gave up on his "hopeless mop" and moved on to Draco.
She was trying to keep up a bold front, but nothing could hide the sadness that her sons were departing once more, until Easter, at very least, and they weren't the most regular writers.
She was going to miss them.
The Express arrived, and the Malfoy family said their goodbyes.
Lucius slipped something into Draco's robe pocket discretely and ushered his sons (and their dog) onto the train.
He and Draco found and empty compartment and waited for the other Firebrands to arrive. The dog yawned loudly, curled into a furry ball, and promptly fell asleep.
Draco eyed the dog warily. "I don't think Professor Dumbledore will let Loki stay at school."
"Why not?" Adrian asked, leaning back into the seat.
"Well, I don't think dogs are usually familiars, do you?" Draco asked sarcastically.
"I don't know actually. I haven't had time to research anything except the Philos-"
Draco clapped his hand over his brother's mouth, shushing his twin and glancing nervously at the snoring dog at their feet.
Adrian bit his brother's hand as hard as he could without drawing blood.
Draco yelped and jerked his hand back.
"What in bloody hell was that about?" Adrian spat, temper rising.
"I just think we should wait until the others get here before we start talking," Draco said, scowling at his brother. "You didn't have to bite me."
"Fine," Adrian groused. "And I really did have to bite you."
"Any reason why?" Draco asked hotly.
His brother merely shrugged. "None whatsoever. I felt the urge?"
Draco snorted. Sometimes, having a half-crazy brother was a pain in the arse.
The others trickled in, one or two at a time, the compartment cramped and uncomfortable when they'd all arrived. Henry hastily found a seventh year boy who grudgingly expanded their compartment for them.
Far more comfortable now, they settled in for the long ride back to school.
"So, did anyone find anything interesting?" Hermione asked impatiently. It was pain to see that she hated not being able to help.
"Dusty books," they all replied in unison.
"I didn't even know where all the books I found are from," Ron moaned.
"A bookshelf fell on me," Blaise offered.
"I found something," Daphne said smugly.
"Well, tell us then!" Neville said after a few moments of silence.
She pulled a thin, leather-bound book from her bag. 'Artefacts of the Gods,' was scrolled in faded gold lettering on the front.
"Uh, Daphne? How old is this book, exactly?" Henry asked as a page crumbled to dust at her touch.
"I don't know, late seventeenth century, maybe?" she shrugged. "Mum says one of her ancestors wrote it."
"Lucky. All of my family is dentists," Hermione grumbled.
"What's a dentist, Hermione?" Neville asked.
"A Muggle healer for teeth," she explained.
"Oh," he said, looking puzzled. "Hermione, why don't they fix your teeth?"
The others sucked in a collective breath, waiting for Hermione to blow up on Neville, but she only sighed.
"They won't do anything until I am older, and they don't want me doing any spells to fix them, either, even though I've found quite a few," she said patiently.
"Oh. What gits, being able to fix teeth and not fixing their own daughter's!"
Hermione sighed and nodded in brooding agreement.
"Now, there's a problem with this book: you lot can't read it," Daphne continued, irritated at being interrupted.
"What do you mean we can't read it?!" Hermione cried, leaping to her feet indignantly. "If this is some high and mighty pureblood sh-"
"No, no, it's not that at all, it's just that it can only be read by a Greengrass," Daphne explained quickly. "Here, look. If you aren't a Greengrass, the letters will look completely jumbled to you."
Hermione snatched the old book from her friend and squinted at the centuries-old pages. "It's absolute gibberish!" she cried.
"It's fairly common, or was, anyway, to keep books under blood protection charms. As long as the line carries on, the protection will hold," Daphne explained.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully and handed the delicate book back.
"I learned that the Stone has only been made three times, and never recently," she said with a shrug.
"Well, you wouldn't need to be recent if you were immortal, would you?" Ron snorted.
"OF COURSE!!" Hermione screamed, leaping from her seat and dashing out of the compartment.
"What in bloody hell was that about?" Ron scowled, rubbing his ear.
"I think you gave her an idea, mate," Henry said.
"For what, deafening innocent people?!" he cried. He fell to his knees on the floor of the compartment. "I'm sorry, world! It was me, Ronald Bilius Weasley, who gave that mad witch an idea! I apologize for my own stupidity!"
Hermione burst back into the compartment, beaming and clutching a massive book to her chest.
"What is this?" Ron cried as she tossed it onto the seat, narrowly missing his head.
"I believe that it is a book, Ronald," Blaise said in a near-perfect imitation of Hermione.
Ron half-heartedly threw a mild hex at him, missing as Blaise ducked.
"I know what it is, git," he growled, clambering back onto the bench.
"Well then why did you ask?" Neville yawned.
Ron scowled at the lone Gryffindor.
"How could I have been so thick?" Hermione said. "I checked this book out ages ago for a bit of light reading!"
"This is light?!" Ron grunted as he handed her the book.
"Only if you have any muscle, Ronald."
"Oi! I resent that statement!"
"It's all about ancient magical visionaries! These witches and wizards invented potions, spells, even the broomstick!" Hermione continued, absorbed by the book in her arms.
"Great. Really, really great, Hermione," Draco drawled, "but why is this so facinat-"
"Here it is! Nicolas Flamel, most recent creator of the Philosopher's Stone, was a famous alchemist. He and his wife are still alive today!"
"So? Dumbledore is still alive. I mean, he has to be going on… I dunno, four-hundred and ninety?" Ron said, smirking.
The others snorted. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nicolas Flamel is over six-hundred years old, Ronald."
"That is impressive," he muttered. Adrian let out a low whistle.
"It says here that he is still a close friend of Albus Dumbledore!" Hermione said excitedly. "So now we know for sure what we're dealing with!"
"Good. Now that we've reiterated common knowledge, can we please try to figure out why the old coot is keeping something so powerful in a school?" Draco yawned.
Hermione scowled at him. "Honestly, don't you read? It says in Hogwarts: A History that Hogwarts is the most heavily protected sentient building in the UK."
"Sentient building? What do you mean, sentient?" Henry asked, leaning forward. "Like, the school is alive or something?"
"Exactly! Hogwarts is able to repel those who intend it harm," Hermione said, smiling brightly at him. "It has heavy enchantments cast over hundreds of years keeping it safe."
"What if the enchantments fail?" Neville asked worriedly.
"Then the professors would defend what the school cannot," she said simply.
"OF COURSE!" Adrian yelled, leaping out of his seat with a wild grin.
"Alright, that really has to stop," Ron scowled, rubbing his ear again. "I shouldn't be going deaf at eleven!"
"The professors! They're helping to protect the stone!" Adrian said. "It all makes sense! If the school somehow fails to keep out an intruder, the professors will have set up defenses of their own!"
"So, the dog is a failsafe?" Hermione asked eagerly.
The others stared at her, confused.
"It's a back-up plan?" she sighed.
"Exactly," Adrian nodded, smiling.
"So, who would Dumbledore trust to save his oldest friends' lives?" Draco mused.
The eight friends looked at one another, smirking.
"Hagrid!"
On the floor, the dog snorted, almost as though he were laughing.
