Chapter 40: The Card

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"That's what you call a reprimand? I'd say that was more like favoring him! If it had been Professor McGonagall who heard those words, she would've docked points for sure!" Ron fumed, still angry.

Hermione had just returned from handing in their essays and caught the tail end of the scene.

"I think we should count ourselves lucky that Orli didn't lose any points. She did grab Malfoy by the collar, after all!" Hermione said.

"Well, he is a professor, after all. Don't think too badly of him," Hagrid said, trying to be fair.

"Cheer up, kids. Christmas is just around the corner. How many days until your break starts?" Hagrid asked.

"Only one day left," Hermione replied.

"Let's head to the library before dinner," she suggested.

"Studying even when the holidays are about to start? You lot are too hardworking," Hagrid said, dragging the tree toward the Great Hall.

"We're not revising," Harry said cheerfully. "We're trying to figure out who Nicolas Flamel is."

"I'm not saying anything," Hagrid said dryly, though he had already said far too much.

Ever since Hagrid had let something slip earlier, Harry and his friends had been searching for clues about Nicolas Flamel. But with thousands of shelves and hundreds of aisles in the library, they had no idea where to start.

Orli, who already knew the answer, couldn't reveal the truth outright—that Nicolas Flamel was behind the creation of the Philosopher's Stone—without arousing suspicion. However, it was about time to steer them in the right direction. She didn't want to waste any more time in the library; she wanted to finish as much homework as possible before the holidays so she could have a solid block of free time to brew potions.

So, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a pre-prepared Chocolate Frog, unwrapped it, and pretended to glance at the card inside.

"Oh, it's Dumbledore again. Harry, does anyone want it?" Orli asked, feigning disappointment. She already knew what was on the card because she had planted it there herself. To prepare for this moment, she had secretly eaten five or six Chocolate Frogs in bed, to the point where her throat felt cloyingly sweet.

"Forget it. The first one I ever got was him," Harry said, waving it off nonchalantly.

"Wait a second!" Orli suddenly shouted, startling everyone. She began to worry that she might have overacted but had no choice but to continue.

"Look here! Nicolas Flamel! I knew I'd seen that name somewhere before!" Orli exclaimed, pointing directly at the fine print on the card.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione all crowded around her, their heads bumping together as they peered at the small card. In one corner, the text read: "Dumbledore's most famous achievements include his work in alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel."

Hermione, in her excitement, leapt up, only to collide with Orli's forehead with a loud "thud." Both of them cried out in pain, but Hermione didn't even pause to apologize.

"Wait here!" she said, dashing upstairs toward the dormitory. Moments later, she came rushing back, clutching a massive old book.

"I've got it!" Hermione said, lowering her voice dramatically, as though performing on stage.

"Look here: Nicolas Flamel, the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

"The what?" Harry and Ron asked in unison, confused.

"Read this part!" Hermione urged, pushing the book toward them. It detailed the Philosopher's Stone, describing its abilities to turn any metal into pure gold and produce the Elixir of Life. It also mentioned that Nicolas Flamel and his wife were now over six hundred years old.

"Don't you see? The three-headed dog must be guarding the Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione said confidently.

"A magical stone that can make gold and grant immortality? No wonder someone's after it!" Harry said.

"It must be Snape who wants it!" Ron declared, thinking he had uncovered the truth.

"Ron! We can't just jump to conclusions and blame Professor Snape. Have you forgotten about Quirrell?" Orli said helplessly. She had brought up Quirrell's suspicious behavior on several occasions before. While Snape remained their prime suspect, at least Quirrell was now also on their radar.

"Fine, Snape or Quirrell—someone's definitely after it," Ron muttered grudgingly, though he still seemed more inclined to suspect Snape.

Having finally uncovered the truth about Nicolas Flamel, it felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from everyone's shoulders. They happily welcomed the Christmas holidays. Hermione boarded the train home, Orli buried herself in their potion-brewing hideout, fully enjoying her work, while Ron and Harry sat nearby, playing Wizard's Chess and brainstorming a hundred ways to get Malfoy expelled.

Laughter filled the air. On Christmas morning, everyone woke to find a pile of presents waiting for them.