Harry was sure Hermione would know what Potiogravida was and what it healed, but as the night went on he and Ron got to discussing Nicholas Flamel instead. They inferred from what they had heard from the conversation between Sirius, Snape and Hagrid that this Nicholas Flamel had something to do with the You-Know-What that was being guarded in the Forbidden Corridor.

"I mean, now we know why it's forbidden," said Harry. "But don't you think Dumbledore could have just locked whatever it is up in his office? Wouldn't that take less time than setting up all these defenses?"

"Well, yeah," Ron agreed. "But my dad says Dumbledore's mind works in strange ways."

"I would know," Harry told him, remembering how Dumbledore had tried to make him stay with the Dursleys.

Eventually they had to go to sleep, but the next morning they mentioned Nicholas Flamel to Hermione, hoping she would know who he was. Unfortunately, she didn't. But she said they could go to the library and see if they could look him up.

As they browsed the books in the library, Harry felt that Sirius probably knew who Nicholas Flamel was, and what he had done to get himself into a book, but he didn't want to mention it. He knew that if he mentioned Flamel's name to Sirius, his godfather would figure out his conversation had been overheard. Sirius flew to London again the next weekend, Harry assumed to give Barbara the potion.

For the next couple of weeks, there was no luck with Nicholas Flamel, and there wasn't a word from Sirius on what was the matter with Barbara; Harry assumed Sirius wasn't saying anything so as not to worry him, although this was quite counterintuitive as Sirius's appearance these days would concern anyone who looked closely. He never seemed to have real color in his cheeks; his eyes had a horrible sort of helpless appearance, and they were slightly red around the rims. He was definitely thinner, and more often than not he smelled unpleasantly of alcohol. Harry remembered Remus telling him Sirius would often start drinking once something stressed him out, even back in their school days.

Harry thought the potion would heal Barbara, but if it had, this hadn't elicited a change in Sirius's looks or behavior. Maybe it wasn't working. Could Sirius and the potion have been too late? Surely Sirius would tell him if Barbara was actually gone. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen her in a long time, or maybe it was because she was ill, but Harry found himself feeling sorry for all the times he hadn't been so happy with Barbara. Before she died, he would have to see her again. But since he didn't want to really think about this, he focused on Nicholas Flamel instead.

"You know, I bet Sirius could give you a permission slip to look in the Restricted Section," Hermione said, pointing. "Maybe Flamel is in there."

"But still, I don't want him to know we were eavesdropping," Harry insisted.

"You don't need to," Hermione told him. "Just mention the name of the book you need. He doesn't have to know why."

Harry didn't like the idea of hiding things from Sirius. Before Harry came to Hogwarts, they had been able to tell each other anything. But then, Sirius was obviously hiding something huge from him…

"Let's do it," said Harry. He got up and walked to the Restricted Section of the library, looking all around at the books. They were much more mysterious than the non-restricted books. Their titles were in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no titles at all. They contained, Harry knew, Dark Magic, or at least some of them did. They were only studied by older students studying very advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. And speaking of older students…

"Hi, Harry," said a voice from behind Harry, and he turned. There was Holly, her medium-length brown hair styled into a French braid. She was smiling.

"Oh…hi, Holly," said Harry. "Listen…I just want to apologize for how Ron and Seamus treated you. It's like you said, they can be immature. Sirius chewed them out for it."

"So I heard," said Holly with a wry grin. "My roommates wouldn't stop talking about it. But don't you apologize. You're great to your girlfriend—Hermione, I think her name is?"

"Oh, no, she's not my girlfriend," Harry said, his cheeks feeling hot. "We're just friends, that's all…"

"Are you sure?" Holly's olive-green eyes were gleaming.

"I'm sure," Harry said, making sure not to look at Hermione or Holly.

"If you say so." Holly shrugged. "I wish it was that easy for me. Sometimes I think of just swearing off guys altogether…maybe become a crazy cat lady or something."

"Maybe you just need a better screening process," Harry suggested awkwardly.

"If I raised my standards even a little bit, no guy I know would make the cut." Holly frowned. "I don't want a man my age, you know? I want someone older, someone with a lot of experience fighting the Dark Arts. Not like Sirius, that would be weird…I mean, he is my teacher. But someone like him. And I don't know if you know this, but I'm a reserve for the Gryffindor Quidditch team—"

"I knew," Harry told her. "R—someone told me."

"Well, I'd really like to date someone who played Quidditch," she said, smiling dreamily. "That's what I'd really like. I've been flying since I was around six, but until I got to Hogwarts, I never really had anyone to do it with."

"Since you were six," said Harry. "So you grew up in a wizard family?"

"Yeah, my surname is Greengrass," Holly told him.

"Greengrass…" Harry frowned at a name that sounded slightly familiar. "Any relation to Daphne Greengrass? She's in my year, but in Slytherin."

"Daphne is my cousin," said Holly, rolling her eyes. "But we don't get along so well. She's more Traditional Pureblood, and I'm Reformed Pureblood, like Sirius. I mean, how else would I be in Gryffindor? I just wish I could get Daphne to see the error of her ways somehow."

"I don't think Traditional Purebloods ever see the error of their ways," said Harry, thinking of Malfoy and his family.

"Well, I wouldn't date a Traditional Pureblood," Holly replied. "I would date a Reformed Pureblood, but not a traditional one. Besides, why do I even keep talking about this? I know the perfect man doesn't exist—come to think of it, the perfect woman doesn't exist either—"

"Hermione is my perfect girl," Harry said without thinking. Once he realized what he had said, he clapped his hands over his mouth and looked wildly over his shoulder, hoping she wouldn't notice him looking.

"Relax, she didn't hear." Holly laughed. "I guess that's why they call it a crush, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged, feeling humiliated.

"Don't worry," Holly told him. "Listen. After the years go by, you might realize Hermione's not quite as perfect as you think she is. But that's okay, because the best kind of love isn't about finding someone who's perfect in every way. It's about finding someone who's flawed, but still a good person, and loving them anyway."

Holly smiled at Harry, looked around the shelves for a moment, then pulled a heavy, mysterious-looking tome off the shelves.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's Most Potente Potions," she explained. "I need it for my N.E.W.T. level Potions class."

This made Harry think of something…

"Potiogravida wouldn't be in there, would it?" Harry asked her nervously.

"Why would you be interested in that?" Holly raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I heard Snape mention it, and I just thought maybe it would be in there."

"Oh, no, Potiogravida is a healing potion, and it's been around for about three hundred years now," Holly told him, shaking her head. "Over the years it's been developed to become completely safe, even for Muggles. Something that harmless wouldn't be in here. You've got the real hardcore stuff in this book. Just look at the pictures."

Holly was about to open the book and show Harry the pictures when her friends called out for her. She shut the book then, and smiled.

"Well, nice talking to you, Harry," she said pleasantly, and ran off.

"Wait, Holly!" Harry called. "What does Potiogravida do?"

But she was gone.

…

They had already been halfway through January when Sirius had found out about Barbara. Now they were finishing the whole month up and still nothing on Barbara, nothing on Potiogravida and definitely nothing on Nicholas Flamel, which was what they were mainly focusing on. Harry had gotten a permission slip from Sirius, but a teacher's permission slip to the Restricted Section only let a student check out one specific book—it wasn't a free pass to the whole section. And the book they had picked was a no-go.

"I don't know where Nicholas Flamel is, Harry," Ron said, exhausted. It was Saturday morning, and Harry knew he would rather be eating breakfast than researching. "I reckon Hermione's right. You should just go ask Sirius."

"Well…fine." Harry sighed. "I suppose I haven't got any choice, have I?"

So he ran to Sirius's teacher's quarters and knocked on the door, not without some trepidation. When the door opened, Sirius was looking awful. Harry winced when he inhaled; Sirius reeked of drink.

"Sirius, you aren't drunk, are you?" he said.

"No, just a bit buzzed," Sirius replied miserably. "I only had a few. What do you need?"

"I just wanted to ask you about a name I...um, heard Professor McGonagall mention," Harry began, trying to throw Sirius off track. "Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?"

Sirius pursed his lips.

"You know, that name does ring a bell," he said, stroking his unshaven chin. "I just can't remember where I've heard it…I've read it somewhere…Nicholas Flamel…"

They were interrupted by a knocking on the door. Harry was surprised to see none other than Hagrid.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Sirius. "What do you need?"

"I was wonderin' if yeh could help with the tail severin' of the Cruppies," Hagrid said. "I-I'm not supposed ter to do magic, see, and I don' trust nobody else with 'em—"

"Can't it wait?" said Sirius, gesturing to Harry. "We're talking."

"Sorry, but Professor Dumbledore thinks we're gettin' it done right now."

"Fine." Sirius stood up. "Harry, you stay here, a simple Severing Charm shouldn't take long…I'll be right back."

"Okay," said Harry, watching as the door slammed shut behind Sirius and Hagrid. Only when he turned around did he notice it. He had only heard and read about them, but he knew what the magical object before his eyes must be.

It was a Pensieve.