The days passed freely, like a river, carried by sweet laughter until the turn of a new year, and with it the return to the monotony of study. Days became weeks slipping by unnoticed, and before long, a new month had quietly taken its place.
The once biting wind had softened into a cold, restless breeze, that slipped through the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest. It caught a single leaf, guiding it over the thawed surface of the Black Lake, over the restless courtyard, and higher still until it tapped softly against a tower window, intruding upon an important conversation between friends.
Hermione halted, lowering her voice to avoid being overheard by the rest of Gryffindor in the common room. "Harry, we've searched for months and haven't found anything yet."She took a small breath, then continued in a more sober tone, "I say we ask someone who knows the wizarding world far better than us."
Harry's breath caught, his body stiffening for a moment before "Hermione!"The panic in his voice came out too loud, drawing the attention of a few upper-years, who turned to look at them before eventually returning to their own conversations.
"Harry, more softly..... we don't want the entire common room to hear us, mate." Ron cut in once their attention drifted away.
"Ron's right. Now, what were you saying?" Hermione asked, turning back to meet Harry's eyes.
Harry took a deep breath, his shoulders loosening at his sides. In a lower voice, he said, "Hermione… we can't ask the professors. If we ask about Flamel, they'll realize we've been sniffing around the third floor."
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "I wasn't talking about a professor, but a student. We cou.."
"We don't know any upper-years," Ron cut in. "We could ask Percy, but he'd snoop around and nag us about it... or worse, report us to a professor. And Fred and George would probably just prank us and have a good laugh."
"I wasn't talking about an upper-year. I was thinking… we could ask Rigel," Hermione said, a hopeful note in her voice.
"No. Not in a million years," Ron cut in immediately. "He's a Slytherin... and he's creepy. Besides, he could just run to Snape."
Harry hesitated for a moment. "He's a first-year like us. How much more could he know? And I don't like the idea of bringing someone else into this… not with what we know about the third floor."
Hermione, clearly expecting the objection, pressed on. "That's not a problem. He was with us when we went to the third floor, did you already forget? He knows about the trapdoor."
She paused briefly, then added, "And Rigel might be a first-year, but he was raised as the heir to an old household. He told me he started studying magic when he was three. So… he might know something."
Harry took a moment to think before answering. "Right… it slipped my mind that he was with us."
He turned to Ron. "I don't think he'd tell on us. From how he acted during the snowball fight at Christmas, he didn't seem like the type to backstab someone."
Turning back to Hermione, he added, "Still… I'm with Ron on one thing. He's scary. But if you think we can trust him, then I say we try."
Ron, with a lowered brow and slumped shoulders, let out a final mumble to Harry. "If he decides to use us as ritual material, don't say I didn't warn you, mate."
Harry squinted slightly. "So where do we find him?"
Hermione snorted at Ron's comment before replying, "I'm not sure… but I have an idea." She paused, then added in a lower tone, "And in any case, I know someone to ask if needed. Now, follow me."
With that final command, the trio began descending from the Gryffindor common room to the lower floors. In the corridor leading toward the library, Hermione spotted exactly the person she needed to ask about Rigel's whereabouts.
"Hermione! How have you been…?"The sentence trailed for a moment before Susan continued, her voice bright and cheerful. "It's been a while since our last outing together."
Susan greeted the group with a small smile, while Hannah, beside her, gave them a quiet nod.
"Susan, Hannah, good to see you," Hermione said in greeting. Soon enough, she fell into easy conversation with Susan, momentarily forgetting why they had come.
It was only after several minutes of small talk that Harry cleared his throat to get her attention. "Hermione… shouldn't we get back to what we were doing?"
Susan raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting into something more curious, though she didn't press the matter. Hermione, for her part, turned to Harry.
"Oh... right!" Her hand flew to her head, a blush bloomed over her cheeks as her voice dropped to a low, almost whispered level and a small embarrassed smile tugged at her lips as she made eye contact with Susan. "Susan, do you know if Rig is still in the library?"
A melodius chuckle reverberated through the hall. "Where else? It's not like he does anything but read and train." Susan rolled her eyes as an exhale escaped her. "Sometimes I wonder if he prefers passing time with his snakes more than with people."
"Well, for the most part, I agree with you," Hermione paused, her gaze drifting briefly to the side, one eye half-closing. "But you only think that because you didn't see him at the gym when we were younger." There was just a moment in which her chest rose a little with the small sound of her breath. "He was the gym's unofficial mascot." Her head tilted from side to side with a small smile on her lips.
Seeing the longing smile on Hermione's face, Susan couldn't help but get one herself. "Sooner or later you have to tell me more about your shared childhood," Her eyebrows lowered a little, a slightly sad smile touching her lips at the thought of their conversation ending so soon "Best you go now..... you don't want to lose him."
With a final goodbye, Hermione turned and headed for the library at the end of the corridor. She was followed closely by Harry and Ron, the latter looked as if he were about to start slamming his head against the wall out of pure boredom.
As they were nearing the door, Ron jumped. A low scream, which echoed throughout the hall, escaped his throat. In a flash, Hermione turned and shot him an annoyed look. "What now?!" she asked, arms wrapped around her chest.
"S... ome... thing touched my leg..." His lips quivered as a blush began to spread across his cheeks as he looked away.
"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, gazing around, trying to make sense of what was happening and what he was hearing.
"Hear what? And Ron, there's nothing here."As these words left Hermione's lips, the door opened. The group shifted, heads turning only to see Madam Pince throwing them a glare full of reprimand. "If you want to make such a din, go somewhere else!"
The trio lowered their heads, and only when they heard the sound of the door closing did they dare to lift them again.
"Just fantastic... Ron, if I get banished from the library because of you, I will stop helping you with your homework until the end of our seventh year."
An ice-cold stare pierced Ron, who felt his legs go weak. Hermione then turned softly to Harry, and with a curious tone asked, "What were you saying about hearing something?"
In a confused voice, Harry said, "I heard... 'an idiot' just after Ron's scream," while he was rubbing his head.
"I didn't hear anything, mate. Maybe you dreamt it?" Ron muttered, still dejected by his situation.
"I find myself agreeing with him," Hermione added; then, as if something had come to mind, she continued: "Maybe it was just your mind reacting to Ron screaming in almost the worst place possible?"
"Yeah, maybe... Anyway, let's go." Harry stepped to the door and entered the Library. From a little behind him, Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance; Ron shrugged, a confused expression marring his face, before he started following Harry with Hermione tagging along.
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The light rustling of pages was accompanied by a small tapping that resonated in the solemn silence of the library. At a table in one of the most isolated corners sat Rigel, an Ancient Runes book resting in his hand.
The book was lowered and left open; with a flick of his wand, three chairs were moved in front of his seat. His hands took on a diamond shape, and a smirk took form on his face.... a smirk filled with amusement.
It was just a moment later that the first set of steps reached him.
"I was waiting for you guys," Rigel said. His smirk widened, becoming unnervingly creepy. "Now, what do you need? Deadly spells, dark market ingredients, someone gone..." He made a small gesture with his hand across his throat. "...or some insight into the darker side of knowledge?"
Ron stopped breathing, his hand trembling as he whispered to Harry, "I told you it wasn't a good idea. Now he's going to kill someone... or worse, us."
Harry, for his part, was bothered by something else. With a forced smile on his lips, he added, "Ron, I'm more worried about how he knew we were arriving." At this, Ron's eyes went wide, and a shiver ran down his spine.
An annoyed sigh escaped Hermione. "Ha, ha, ha... You're not funny, Rig." She threw a glare at Ron before returning her attention to Rigel.
An eerie chuckle left his mouth. "Oh... but I found it exhilarating." He then waved with his left hand toward the chairs in front of him. "Take a seat, and we shall talk..."
The trio settled in, but while sitting, Ron accidentally made eye contact with Rigel. He felt as if a gust of wind had traversed his body, his mouth drying out instantly. Once they were seated, the neutral sound of Rigel's voice broke the silence: "But, I think I already know what you are searching for..."
"As if, Rigel," Hermione said, her voice calm but with a hint of exasperation. She then glanced at Harry and Ron, searching for their approval; Once she received a nod from the boys, she asked in almost a whisper, "We wanted to ask you about N..."
"Nicolas Flamel, right?" Rigel's voice had a smug tone, his smile openly challenging Hermione.
"H...ow do you know?" Her eyes were wide open, curiosity written all over her face. But from Rigel came only an infuriating, "Magician's secret. Maybe I will confess in the future, but not anytime soon."
Noticing the annoyed look on Hermione's face, Harry decided to take the situation into his own hands. "So, would you be so kind as to tell us?"
Rigel's visage became an expressionless facade, his tone as cold as ice. "Why not? But for a price: the soul of your heir. Nothing much, right? Just the soul of the first child each of you will have in the future."
A small, deranged chuckle echoed, low enough for only the three of them to hear. Harry's face paled; a knot formed inside his chest and cold sweat ran down his forehead. Ron went still, as if every muscle in his body were tied; all he could do was send a glare to Harry that said everything. Even Hermione was left with a shiver down her back.
A laugh... amused and creepy, escaped him, yet still low enough for a library. "You should see your faces!" He had to stop to catch his breath. "Priceless. Ah... so, what do you want to know about Nicolas Flamel?"
"It wasn't funny, Rigel!" Hermione's voice, sharp with anger and almost too loud for the library, filled the space between them. An annoyed pout settled on her face as she refused to look at him.
"Alright, I'm sorry." A smaller, softer smile returned to his face, and with a gentler tone, he asked: "Anyway, what did you want to know about that old alchemist?"
Harry, after a long deep breath and having dried the sweat with his tunic sleeve, asked: "We wanted to ask who he is, what he is famous for, and maybe... if he invented something?"
Rigel's gaze focused on him, then moved to Ron and Hermione. When he saw their confused expressions, a sigh escaped him. "Well, for a start, I'm not a History teacher, so I'll be quick." He stretched a little, relaxing his back against the chair. "Nicolas Flamel was a French alchemist from the 14th century. He is famous for being an alchemist, obviously, and he also worked with the Headmaster. But what I think you guys are particularly interested in is his masterpiece... the one thing that gave him his fame: The Philosopher's Stone."
The trio, as if sharing a single brain, gasped: "The Philosopher's Stone?!"
Seeing their still-confused faces, Rigel rolled his eyes at their absolute ignorance. "Really? You guys don't know the Philosopher's Stone? I expect it from Ron, but you, Hermione? It's a legend even in the Muggle world." He let out a breath, prolonging it just long enough to be unnerving. "It's a stone that helps produce the Elixir of Life. Or, in terms even you three dunderheads can understand: it grants immortality... or at least a partial form of it. It also has minor side abilities, like turning lead into gold, but nothing much else."
He leaned forward slightly. "Now, why would you three be interested in something so mundane?"
Then, while they were trying to come up with an answer, he cut them off. "And don't try to lie to me. It's obvious it has to do with the trapdoor on the third floor... and the little puppy sitting on top of it."
Ron, who felt offended after being called a dunderhead, snapped back: "And why should we tell you? So you can steal it and get immortality and infinite gold?"
Rigel now wore an almost bored expression. "Gold... Immortality... these things don't really appeal to me."
Ron cut him off. "As if!"
A deadly stare pierced Ron. Rigel stood, looming over them, and spoke in an unnaturally calm voice. "I have enough gold to never lift a finger for the rest of my life. I could spend with no regard, and my grandchildren would still be richer than the Malfoys. And as for immortality? I know at least three other ways to accomplish it. But what is the point of immortality if not to flee the fear of death? You can be immortal, but if you are pathetic, you simply remain pathetic for longer."
The silence that followed was charged with a truth hard to digest. Once the tension settled, Harry took charge of the conversation, and it continued. Between questions and answers, the afternoon burnt away. In the minds of the two young wizards, a new and darker fear took root: the realization that a far greater future danger sat right in front of them, in the form of a boy.
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