NORBERT

The afternoon sun slanted through the high windows of the library, casting long shadows across the towering bookshelves. At a secluded table near the Restricted Section, Harry, Ron, Marteen, and Hermione had sequestered themselves for a study session.

Hermione sat ramrod straight, her bushy hair barely visible behind a teetering stack of thick tomes. Her quill scratched furiously across a roll of parchment as she muttered incantations under her breath.

Beside her, Harry lounged in his chair, engrossed in "Quidditch Through the Ages." His eyes sparkled with excitement as he read about famous Seekers and their death-defying catches.

Ron, in stark contrast, had his head pillowed on his arms, a thin line of drool threatening to stain his Transfiguration notes. His soft snores punctuated the library's hushed atmosphere.

Marteen sat across from them, look busy with his own book.

Hermione looked up from her work, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Ron's sleeping form. "Honestly," she huffed, slamming her book shut with a resounding thud. "This is pathetic, Ronald!"

Ron jerked awake with a startled "Whassgoinon?" His bleary eyes struggled to focus as a piece of parchment stuck to his cheek.

"We're supposed to be studying," Hermione said. She turned her stern gaze to Harry. "And you! The exams are just around the corner. How can you possibly think reading about Quidditch is more important than preparing for Transfiguration?"

Harry had the grace to look slightly abashed, though he didn't close his book.

"Come on, Hermione. We've been at it for hours. A little break won't hurt."

"A little break? Is that what you call this?" She gestured at Ron, who was still peeling parchment off his face. "At this rate, you'll both fail your exams, and then where will you be?"

"Blimey, Hermione, the exams are ages away! We've got ten weeks left. That's plenty of time!"

"Ten weeks is nothing, Ronald. It'll be here before you know it, and then you'll be sorry you didn't start revising earlier."

Her gaze then shifted to Marteen, who was hunched over a small, leather-bound book. His quill moved swiftly across the pages, which seemed unusually thin and few for a proper notebook. Every so often, a smile would flicker across his face as he finished writing something.

"And what are you up to?" Hermione asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and exasperation. "You're being rather peculiar, you know."

"Studying, as you said." he said with a shrug.

Hermione frowned. "That's hardly a proper book for studying. You should be reading something substantial, like 'Hogwarts: A History' or 'Advanced Transfiguration Theory'."

With a chuckle, Marteen closed his book and tapped it against his forehead. "It's all in here," he said confidently.

"How can that tiny book possibly contain information on all our subjects? It's far too thin." Asked Hermione, skepticaly.

"Here, see for yourself," Marteen said, holding out the book to her.

Hesitantly, Hermione took it and opened it, check all the pages. "But... it's blank! How can that be? I just saw you writing in it!"

"I should remind you, Hermione, that we live in a world of magic. Not everything is as it seems."

"But how does it work? What kind of enchantment is on it?"

"It's simple, really," Marteen explained. "I can ask it questions verbally or write them down. The book responds with the information I need."

Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement. She reached for her quill, ready to test it out, but Marteen's hand shot out to stop her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned. "It won't work for anyone else."

But Hermione, ever determined, shook her head. "Nonsense. If it's just an enchanted book, it should work for anyone with magical ability."

Before Marteen could protest further, Hermione dipped her quill in ink and wrote on the first blank page:

"What are the key ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, to everyone's amazement, the ink began to sink into the page, disappearing entirely. In its place, elegant script appeared:

"You are my descendant."

Hermione gasped, nearly dropping the book in surprise. Harry and Ron leaned in, their eyes wide with curiosity and confusion.

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked up at Marteen, her expression a mixture of awe and suspicion.

"Marteen," she said slowly, "what exactly is this book?"

Marteen's expression grew serious as he looked at Hermione, then at Harry and Ron, who were now fully alert and leaning in with curiosity.

"It's... a family heirloom," Marteen said carefully, "Remember when I told you about learning spells from my grandfather's book? This is it."

"You mean... this is Gellert Grindelwald's book?"

Harry and Ron exchanged shocked glances.

"Yeah," Marteen nodded, "It's enchanted to only work for his descendants. That's why it wouldn't respond to you, Hermione."

Ron whistled low. "Blimey, that's some powerful magic. No wonder you're so good at spells."

Hermione, however, looked troubled. "But Marteen, having access to all that knowledge... it's a huge responsibility, isn't it? And potentially dangerous?"

The atmosphere around their table suddenly felt tense. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, remembering the incident with the troll and the powerful magic Marteen had used.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice tinged with suspicion. "Are you using this book to learn everything for our classes? That's... that's cheating, isn't it?"

Marteen shook his head, "It's not that simple, Hermione. Let me break it down for you."

He held up one finger.

"First off, everyone here learns from books. This just happens to be a very special one."

A second finger joined the first.

"Second, I still need our textbooks. This book only answers specific questions. It doesn't give me a syllabus or a comprehensive overview. I can only learn what I think to ask about, and let's face it, I don't know how many kinds of magic exist in the world. There's probably tons of stuff I don't even know to ask about."

Finally, he raised a third finger.

"And third, remember, this book contains my grandfather's knowledge. Sure, he knew a lot about magic, but that doesn't mean he knew everything. There are plenty of things we're learning in class that aren't in here."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, impressed by Marteen's reasoning. Hermione, however, still looked skeptical.

"Look, I'm not trying to cheat the system. I'm just using every resource available to me to learn as much as I can. Isn't that what we're all here for?"

The tension around the table eased slightly as his words sank in. Even Hermione seemed to be considering his perspective, though her brow remained furrowed in thought.

"I suppose when you put it that way..."

Hermione examined the book closely, turning it over in her hands. Suddenly, a thought struck her.

"Marteen, do you think your grandfather might know about the stone? The one we've been researching?"

Marteen's eyes widened in realization. "I... I hadn't even thought of that. I can try asking."

Hermione handed the book back to him. Marteen opened it and spoke clearly,

"Do you know Nicolas Flamel?"

Elegant script appeared on the page:

Yes, I know of him. A fool who wasted his life pursuing immortality instead of true power. He could have changed the world, but instead, he hid away, guarding his precious stone.

The friends exchanged glances, surprised by the book's opinionated response. Marteen pressed on, "Do you know anything about the Philosopher's Stone?"

The book's reply came swiftly:

The Philosopher's Stone? A remarkable artifact, capable of transforming lead to gold and producing the Elixir of Life. But its true potential lies beyond mere wealth and longevity. In the right hands – your hands – it could be the key to reshaping the magical world. Think of the possibilities! With eternal life and unlimited gold, you could implement the changes our world so desperately needs. Seize it if you can, and fulfill the destiny that awaits you.

"Blimey, it knows everything!" Ron amazed.

Hermione, however, looked troubled. "Marteen, don't you think the book is trying to manipulate you? It sounds... well, it sounds like it has its own agenda."

Marteen waved off her concern. "Come on, Hermione. It's just a book. It's probably just echoing my grandfather's old views. He's been in prison for decades now; he's probably changed."

Marteen hesitated for a moment, then wrote in the book:

I have no intention to use it. My friends and I are trying to protect it from a bad guy.

The response appeared swiftly:

You might be right, but you might also be wrong. It's crucial to observe this 'bad guy's' intentions carefully. Sometimes, those we perceive as villains are merely visionaries misunderstood by the masses. Or perhaps you've aligned yourself with the wrong friends. Tell me, who are these companions of yours?

Marteen glanced at his friends, then wrote:

You might know their ancestors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

The book's reply was swift and lengthy:

Potter... I know little of that family, save for their stubborn adherence to outdated ideals of 'light' magic. The Weasleys, however, I know well - blood traitors, the lot of them, squandering their pure magical heritage by fraternizing with lesser beings. As for Granger, that name is unfamiliar. These companions of yours, they cling to the old ways, to outdated moralities that have long held our kind back. Can they truly comprehend the greater vision that is your birthright? Or will they, in their short-sightedness, become obstacles to the grand future that awaits you? Remember, true greatness often requires leaving the common folk behind.

"Blood traitors?" Ron show his anger.

Hermione, looking troubled, said quietly, "Of course it doesn't know my ancestors. I'm Muggle-born."

Marteen wrote:

Granger is a Muggle-born.

The book's response appeared, its script seeming to carry a tone of disgust:

You associate with a Mudblood? Have you learned nothing from me? These magic-thieves dilute our world, weakening the very fabric of magical society. They should be kept in their place, not treated as equals. You disappoint me, I had hoped you would show better judgment in choosing your allies. Remember, not all who walk in the light truly illuminate the path to greatness. Reconsider your choices, lest you squander your potential on those unworthy of your talents.

"How dare it! That's - that's horrible!" Hermione shocked.

Marteen slammed the book shut, "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't think it would... I mean, I knew my grandfather had those views, but I didn't expect..."

Harry put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder, while Ron glared at the closed book as if it might spring to life and attack them.

"It's not your fault, Marteen," Hermione said, "But now you see why that kind of knowledge can be dangerous. It's not just information - it's ideology, and a hateful one at that."

"You know, it's never done this before. Usually, I just ask simple questions and get straightforward answers. This... this conversation is new."

Marteen shook his head, as if trying to clear away the unsettling experience. "Let's forget about this book for now."

Hermione, eager to change the subject, "I think we need to go see Hagrid again. We should try to convince him that Snape is trying to steal the Stone."

"Tonight? But that would mean breaking curfew!" Ron asked.

"We'd be breaking school rules. Are you sure about this, Hermione?" Harry added.

Hermione, usually the stickler for rules, but not this time. "This is important. We can't just sit back and do nothing while the Stone is in danger."

Marteen's face broke into a wide grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement and admiration as he watched Hermione. He carefully tucked the book into his robes before speaking. "Well, well, Hermione. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be the one suggesting we break the rules. I'm impressed."

He stood up, stretching slightly. "Count me in. A nighttime adventure to save a magical artifact? Sounds like my kind of evening."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then shrugged in unison. "Alright," Harry said, "if we're all agreed, let's do this."

The Slytherin Common Room stretched out like a grand underwater cave, its walls shimmering with an eerie green glow from the lake beyond. Ornate lamps cast dancing shadows across plush leather sofas and intricately carved chairs. Ancient tapestries adorned the walls, their faded figures seeming to watch with keen interest as Marteen's footsteps echoed softly on the cold stone floor.

He was so lost in thought about the night's adventure that he almost missed Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle lounging by the crackling fireplace.

"Marteen," Draco's voice sliced through the quiet. "Where are you off to at this hour?"

Marteen froze, turning to face his housemates. Draco reclined in the center of a sofa, Crabbe and Goyle's bulky forms flanking him like gargoyles.

"Oh, you know," Marteen replied, "just got some stuff to take care of."

"With Potter, Weasley, and that Granger girl, I suppose?" He rose, firelight flickering across his pale face. "I've seen you getting cozy with them lately."

"What can I say? Those guys are like trouble magnets. It's kinda hard to resist the excitement, you know?" Marteen said.

Draco took a step forward, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering to their feet with a THUD that seemed to shake the room. "I can't let you go, Marteen. You're a Slytherin. You shouldn't be fraternizing with the likes of them."

The temperature in the room plummeted as Marteen's expression hardened. His voice was soft but sharp as a knife when he asked,

"Is that a threat, Draco?"

The effect was electric. Draco's swagger evaporated, his face turning ghostly white. He remembered all too well the whispers about Marteen's powers, and he saw himself in the class that morning. He is — a Grindewald, after all. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged nervous glances, their meaty hands fidgeting uncertainly.

Draco gulped audibly, stumbling back a step. "I... I'm just looking out for you, Marteen. As a friend."

Marteen's expression softened a fraction, "I get it, man. You're trying to help. But trust me, I can handle myself. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Without waiting for a response, Marteen spun on his heel and strode towards the exit. The stone wall slid open with a grinding sound, then closed behind him with a decisive thud. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stood frozen, staring at the spot where Marteen had vanished.

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Draco made a decision. He bolted towards the entrance, his feet barely touching the ground. Crabbe and Goyle, caught off guard, remained rooted to the spot, exchanging bewildered glances as the stone wall ground open once more.

The cool, damp air of the dungeon corridor hit Draco's face as he slipped out. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through his veins. He crept along the shadowy passages, straining his ears for any sign of Marteen.

Faint whispers and the soft patter of footsteps echoed from around a corner. Draco pressed himself against the wall, barely daring to breathe. He peered cautiously around the bend and—there they were.

Marteen's figure was unmistakable, even in the dim light. Beside him stood Potter, Weasley, and Granger, their heads close together as they spoke in hushed tones. Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched the unlikely group.

"Coast clear?" Harry's voice barely carried to where Draco hid.

"Looks like it," Ron whispered back. "But Filch could be anywhere."

"Or Mrs. Norris," Hermione added with a shudder.

"Chill, guys. We've got this. Just keep your eyes peeled and your wands ready." Marteen calm them.

The quartet began to move, creeping towards the castle's main entrance. Draco followed at a distance, his heart in his throat every time a shadow moved or a distant sound echoed through the corridors.

As they neared the great oak front doors, a sudden meow froze them in their tracks. Mrs. Norris's lamp-like eyes gleamed in the darkness, her tail swishing menacingly.

"Run!" Harry hissed, and the four friends bolted for the door.

Draco, momentarily forgotten in the chaos, pressed himself into an alcove, watching as Marteen and the others vanished into the night. The sound of Filch's wheezing breath grew closer, and Draco knew he had to make a choice—follow Marteen and the others into who-knows-what danger, or retreat to the safety of the Slytherin common room.

His pale face set with determination, Draco slipped out of his hiding place and darted after the escaping group, the cool night air hitting his face as he stepped out onto the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts.

The quartet hurried across the moonlit grounds, their breath coming out in small puffs in the cool night air. Hagrid's hut loomed ahead, a warm glow emanating from its windows.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Harry rapped on the wooden door, his knuckles stinging slightly from the force. For a moment, silence. Then—

"Who's there?"

"It's us, Hagrid!"

The door creaked open, and Hagrid's massive form filled the doorway. His beetle-black eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in disapproval.

"What in the name of Merlin are yeh four doin' out at this hour?" he scolded, "Yeh could get in serious trouble! An' draggin' me into it too!"

Marteen stepped forward, "Come on, Hagrid. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

Hagrid sighed and stepped aside. "Alrigh', alrigh'. Get in 'ere before someone sees yeh."

The four friends shuffled into the warm, cluttered interior of Hagrid's hut. Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, lifted his head from his basket and gave a sleepy "Woof!" before settling back down.

"I'll put on some tea," Hagrid muttered, moving towards the fireplace. "Though I don' know why I'm encouragin' this behavior..."

As Hagrid busied himself with the kettle, the friends noticed his frequent glances towards the fire. Something seemed to be occupying his thoughts.

"So," Hagrid said, trying to sound casual as he set out mismatched mugs, "what's so important it couldn' wait 'til mornin'?"

The friends exchanged glances. Harry took a deep breath and said, "Hagrid, we know about the Philosopher's Stone."

CRASH!

The teapot slipped from Hagrid's massive hands, shattering on the floor and sending shards of pottery and hot tea flying in all directions.

"Blimey!" Hagrid exclaimed, "How did yeh—I mean, what stone? I don' know nothin' about—"

"It's okay, Hagrid," Hermione said, "We've figured it out. We're just worried it might be in danger."

Hagrid slumped into his oversized armchair. "I shouldn'ta said anythin'," he muttered. "I should never loose lips, that's my problem."

"Hagrid, we're almost certain someone's trying to steal the Stone. We think it might be Snape." Hermione began.

"Yeh three still meddlin' with that? An' now yeh've dragged poor Marteen into it too?" He shook his head, exasperated. "Look, yer barkin' up the wrong tree. Snape's not tryin' ter steal anythin'. He's one of the teachers protectin' the Stone!"

Marteen perked up at this. "Hold up. Teachers, plural? Who else is in on this?"

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, let's see. There's Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall..." He counted on his massive fingers. "An' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Oh, an' Snape."

"You see?" Ron exclaimed. "Snape knows how to get past the other protections!"

"Enough!" Hagrid boomed, then quickly lowered his voice. "I've told yeh too much already. It's top secret, it is. Yeh need ter forget about the Stone. It's none of yer business what it's doin' here or who's protectin' it."

He stood up, his frame filling the small hut. "Now, I've got important things ter be gettin' on with. Yeh should be headin' back ter the castle—"

But just then, a loud CRACK! echoed from the fireplace. Everyone's heads whipped around to stare at the flames.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"Er, nothin'. Just the fire settlin', that's all."

But even as he spoke, another sound came from the fireplace—a distinct, high-pitched chirping noise.

"Hagrid," Marteen said, "what exactly have you got in that fire?"

Hagrid's shoulders slumped in defeat. He moved towards the fireplace, using a pair of tongs to carefully extract something from the flames. As he turned back to face them, the friends gasped in unison.

Cradled in Hagrid's massive hands was a large, black egg—an egg that was now covered in tiny cracks, rocking slightly as whatever was inside fought to break free.

With a final, resounding CRACK, the egg split open, revealing a tiny, crumpled creature. It unfurled its wings, which were disproportionately large for its small body, and let out a high-pitched squeak.

"Blimey, that's a Norwegian Ridgeback! My brother Charlie works with these in Romania." Said Ron.

Hagrid beamed with pride, gently stroking the dragon's spiny head. "Isn't he beautiful? I think I'll call him Norbert."

Marteen leaned in, "So, uh, at what point can this little guy grill a full-grown person?"

"Marteen!" Hermione hissed, shooting him a disapproving glare. "That's hardly an appropriate question!"

But before anyone could say more, Norbert hiccupped, and a small jet of flame shot out, singeing Hagrid's bushy beard.

"Ooh!" Hagrid exclaimed, patting out the smoldering hairs. "He's just a mite testy, that's all."

Marteen grinned, clearly amused. "Well, now we've seen him torch something. That answers my question!"

"Marteen, really!" Hermione scolded again, "This is serious. Hagrid could get into real trouble for this."

Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances, while Hagrid cooed at Norbert, seemingly oblivious to the danger of the situation.

"Hagrid," Harry said cautiously, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid opened his mouth to answer, but his words were drowned out by another squeak from Norbert, followed by a larger burst of flame that nearly caught Ron's robes.

"Bloody hell!"

Hagrid's face suddenly turned serious as he looked at the four friends. "Now, listen 'ere," he said, "Yeh can't tell anyone about Norbert, not even the teachers. I could get in a right mess o' trouble for this."

The friends nodded solemnly, though Hermione looked particularly conflicted about keeping such a secret from authority figures.

Suddenly—

"Blimey! Did yeh see that?"

They all whirled around to look. For a split second, a pale, pointed face was visible in the window, framed by sleek blond hair.

"Draco!" Harry gasped.

Before anyone could react, the face vanished. They heard the sound of running footsteps fading into the night.

"Oh no," Ron groaned. "If Malfoy tells anyone..."

Marteen's face hardened, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand. "Don't worry," he said, "If that little snitch tries to blab, I'll hex him six ways from Sunday."

"Marteen!"

Hermione admonished, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. Even she seemed to realize the gravity of the situation.

Hagrid slumped into his chair, looking utterly defeated. "It's all over," he mumbled. "Malfoy'll go straight to Dumbledore, an' then..."

Harry stood up, "We won't let that happen, Hagrid. We'll figure something out."

As they crept through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls, Marteen turned to Hermione.

"Hey, why'd you stop me from going after Draco?"

"You would've just caused more trouble. Besides," she added hesitantly, "Hagrid's being rather ridiculous, keeping a dragon in his wooden hut. If Draco tells Dumbledore, he might actually find a better place for Norbert."

Ron's face paled in the dim light. "But what about us? The teachers will find out we were out after curfew! We'll get detention for sure, and Gryffindor will lose even more points!"

Marteen's eyes narrowed as he considered this. Suddenly, his face lit up with realization. "Wait a sec," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Draco won't tell Dumbledore or any teacher. He knows I was there too, and that'd risk Slytherin losing points. If he does snitch, then he is completely an idiot."

Harry nodded, "That's brilliant, Marteen. We might be safe after all."

But just as the words left Harry's mouth, they rounded a corner and came face to face with a sight that made their hearts sink. There stood Draco, his pale face triumphant, next to a stern-looking Professor McGonagall in her tartan dressing gown.

Marteen's shoulders slumped. "Never mind," he muttered. "He's literally an idiot."

McGonagall's lips thinned as she surveyed the group. "I think we have quite a bit to discuss, don't we?"

The four friends exchanged panicked glances. They had escaped one danger only to walk right into another. As McGonagall ushered them towards her office, the weight of their impending punishment hung heavy in the air.

Professor McGonagall's office was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room. The five students stood before her desk.

"Now then," she began, "is it true that Hagrid has a dragon in his hut?"

Draco's face split into a triumphant grin. "Yes, Professor. I saw it with my own eyes."

The quartet exchanged glances before reluctantly nodding in confirmation.

"I see. Well, that particular matter is not my concern. Professor Dumbledore will handle that situation." She paused, "What does concern me, however, is the fact that you were out of bed, wandering the castle at midnight!"

She continued, "Such blatant disregard for school rules cannot go unpunished. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor, each! That means one hundred and fifty!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's shocked but before they could protest—

"And each fifty points from Slytherin as well."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, "But Professor, I was the one who—"

"Who was also out of bed after hours, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall cut him off sharply. "Your actions, while informative, do not excuse your own rule-breaking."

Marteen stood silently, his face impassive. When Draco glanced at him in disbelief.

McGonagall surveyed them once more. "You will all receive detention as well. Perhaps that will teach you to think twice before embarking on late-night adventures."

As the five students exited Professor McGonagall's office, the corridor was filled with a tense silence. Suddenly, WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Ow!"

Draco yelped as Marteen repeatedly slapped the back of his head.

"You absolute idiot!" Marteen hissed, WHAP! "What were you thinking?"

WHAP!

"I didn't know Slytherin would lose points too! I was just trying to—"

WHAP!

"To what? Be a snitch?" Marteen continued, not letting up as they walked.

WHAP!

"Great job, genius. Really stellar work."

WHAP!

Ron couldn't contain his amusement, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched Draco's discomfort. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, torn between sympathy and satisfaction.

As they reached the point where they'd part ways to their respective common rooms, Draco looked positively miserable, his usually sleek hair mussed from Marteen's assault.

Ron leaned in close to Harry and Hermione, his grin turning mischievous. "Reckon it's going to be a long night for Malfoy, eh?" he whispered, nodding towards the retreating Slytherins.

Marteen's voice echoed down the corridor, still berating Draco.

"And another thing..."

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed towards Gryffindor Tower, they couldn't help but feel a small sense of justice had been served, despite their own punishment. The night had certainly taken an unexpected turn, and as they climbed through the portrait hole, they wondered what other surprises Hogwarts had in store for them.