The rest of Christmas Day passed in a warm, contented haze. Ron and Harry gorged themselves on the magnificent Christmas feast, pulling crackers with Fred and George, and later engaged in a ferocious snowball fight on the grounds. Ariana, Hermione, and Neville, meanwhile, retreated to the relative peace of the common room fire, Neville tending to his new Dittany plant with reverent care while Hermione and Ariana delved into the profound, complex theories presented in De Novo Artificio.
That evening, however, another gift arrived, one that would irrevocably alter the course of their adventures. Harry returned from the feast, his face alight with excitement, clutching a silvery, fluid like fabric.
"Look what I got!" he whispered, unfurling it for Ron to see. "There was no note. It just said, 'Your father left this in my possession. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'"
Ron gasped. "I've heard of those! That's an Invisibility Cloak! They're dead rare!"
The possibilities lit up Ron's face like a firework. His first thought was not of safety or stealth, but of mischief. "We can go anywhere with this," he breathed, his eyes wide. "Anywhere! We can go to the Restricted Section tonight! We can finally find out who Nicolas Flamel is!"
The name had been a persistent mystery since their encounter with the three-headed dog, which Hagrid had let slip was named Fluffy. Hermione, in a rare moment of being thwarted by the library, had been unable to find any mention of him in the standard texts. The allure of the forbidden, combined with the promise of a solution to their puzzle, was irresistible to Ron.
Filled with this newfound purpose, the two boys hurried over to the corner where Ariana and Hermione were seated. Midnight, in her full panther form, lifted her great, shadowy head from Ariana's lap as they approached, her violet eyes glowing with a quiet warning.
"We're going to the library," Harry announced, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, the silvery cloak clutched in his hand. "To the Restricted Section. We're going to find Flamel. Do you want to come?"
He looked from Hermione to Ariana, a hopeful, excited expression on his face. He was offering them inclusion in his great secret, an invitation to a midnight adventure.
Hermione hesitated. The desire to find the answer, to solve the puzzle, warred with her deepseated aversion to rule-breaking. The memory of the troll and the 50-point loss was still fresh. But the pull of knowledge, especially forbidden knowledge, was a powerful one. She looked to Ariana, her expression uncertain, seeking guidance.
Ariana, however, had not moved. She slowly marked her place in her book and looked up at Harry, her gaze steady and unreadable. She had analyzed this possibility the moment she'd seen the cloak. The cloak was a tool. Ron saw it as a key to mischief. Harry, influenced by Ron, saw it as a means to an end for their immediate problem. Ariana saw it as a strategic asset of immense value, to be used with precision and discretion, not for a clumsy, impulsive library raid.
"No," she said.
The word was quiet, but it landed with absolute finality.
Harry's face fell. "But… why not? With the cloak, we won't get caught! We can finally figure this out!"
Ron scoffed. "She's too scared of getting into trouble, that's what it is."
Ariana's gaze shifted to Ron, a cool, dismissive look that made him shrink back slightly. She then turned her eyes back to Harry. Her voice, when she spoke, was not angry or disappointed. It was the calm, patient voice of a teacher explaining a complex but fundamental concept.
"This is not a matter of fear. It is a matter of efficiency," she said. "You are proposing a highrisk, low-yield operation. You intend to sneak into a forbidden area of the castle, with no knowledge of its layout or potential magical protections, to search for a single name in thousands of books, all based on a whim. The probability of success is low. The probability of capture, despite the cloak, is moderate to high. The entire venture is… illogical."
"But we have to do something!" Harry insisted, his frustration mounting.
Ariana held his gaze. "Yes," she agreed. "You do. But you are choosing the most difficult and dangerous path because it feels the most exciting." She gave a small, almost imperceptible sigh. "I will not be joining you."
Her refusal was absolute. Defeated, Harry and Ron turned to leave, Ron muttering under his breath about her being a spoilsport. Harry, however, glanced back, a look of genuine hurt and confusion on his face.
Once they were gone, Hermione turned to Ariana, her brow furrowed. "Why didn't you stop them? You could have told them how foolish it was."
"They would not have listened," Ariana stated simply, reopening her book.
"But we could have helped!" Hermione pressed, her voice rising slightly. "We could have gone with them, helped them search, made it safer! If you know Flamel is so important, why won't you help look for him?"
Ariana finally closed her book again, giving Hermione her full attention. The firelight cast flickering shadows across her serene face, making her look older, wiser.
"Hermione," she said, her voice low and serious. "This has nothing to do with the search for Nicolas Flamel."
Hermione looked confused. "But… of course it does."
"No," Ariana corrected gently. "It has to do with the currency of trust. Harry just received a powerful magical artifact, one left to him by his father. His very first instinct, guided by Ron, was to use it for rule-breaking. He came to us, not for advice, not for a better strategy, but for accomplices. He wanted us to join him in his reckless plan."
She paused, letting the words sink in. "Think, Hermione. He has a problem: he needs to know who Nicolas Flamel is. What would have been the logical, efficient way to solve that problem?"
Hermione thought for a moment. "He could… ask an older student? Ask a professor?"
"Or," Ariana said, her gaze intense, "he could have asked me."
The simple statement hung in the air. Hermione stared at her, a dawning realization spreading across her face.
"You… you know who he is?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide.
"Of course I do," Ariana replied, a hint of weariness in her tone. "Nicolas Flamel was the most famous alchemist of his generation. The only known maker and possessor of the Philosopher's Stone. He is a close personal friend and colleague of Albus Dumbledore. His name is mentioned in at least a dozen advanced alchemical texts, none of which are in the Restricted Section because they are not considered dark, merely complex."
Hermione's jaw dropped. The answer had been there all along, accessible, not even forbidden. They had been chasing a phantom.
"But… why didn't you just tell him?" Hermione stammered.
"Because he didn't ask," Ariana said, her voice now holding a profound, quiet sadness. "He didn't trust me enough to believe that I might simply know the answer. He didn't come to me for help or for knowledge. He came to me for validation of a bad idea. He trusts Ron's instincts for adventure more than he trusts my capacity for knowledge. Until he learns to value information over intrigue, and strategy over impulsiveness, my telling him the answer would teach him nothing."
She looked into the crackling fire, her periwinkle eyes reflecting the flames. "Trust, Hermione, is the most valuable currency in any alliance. It must be earned and respected. Harry just spent his on a late-night excursion with Ron. I hope, for his sake, that he finds what he is looking for. But I suspect he will only find more trouble."
And so, as Harry and Ron disappeared under the shimmering folds of the Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed out of the common room, Ariana and Hermione remained by the fire. Hermione looked from the empty doorway to the serene, powerful girl beside her, a profound understanding dawning in her mind. This was the difference between them.
She, Hermione, would have gone along, armed with facts and warnings, trying to mitigate the damage from within.
Ariana, however, operated on a higher strategic level. She was playing a longer game, one where the lessons learned from failure were more valuable than the fleeting victory of a single night's discovery. She was teaching Harry a lesson in trust, even if he didn't know he was in her classroom.
And she was waiting, with the infinite patience of the sea, for her friends to learn to ask the right questions.