Chapter 5: Library Rivalry
The Hogwarts library was a sanctuary of quiet, its air cool and dry, infused with the faint, comforting scent of old parchment and polished mahogany. High shelves loomed like ancient sentinels, their books whispering secrets in the silence. The only sounds were the soft shhh of Madame Pince's slippers and the rustle of turning pages. Alex sat at a heavy oak table, its surface worn smooth by centuries of anxious students. His Slytherin robes felt too tight, the collar scratching his neck as he shifted, a nervous tic he couldn't shake. Across from him, Hermione Granger's fortress of books towered, a testament to her relentless intellect. Harry pored over a Quidditch magazine, his glasses slipping down his nose, while Ron slumped over a Charms textbook, his wand tapping a bored rhythm that echoed faintly in the stillness.
The atmosphere crackled with intellectual sparring, a tension Alex felt in his bones. "Hermione's a machine, but I'm not here to lose." His Artificer's Enigma hummed, ready to bolster his arguments with meta-knowledge, but the lack of formal schooling gnawed at him, a quiet insecurity beneath his confident facade. He sipped a cup of strong tea, its bitter warmth grounding him as he pretended to read A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
Hermione's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and precise. "Honestly, Ron, a Sticking Charm isn't just waving your wand and hoping. It's about mutual sympathetic resonance between materials. "
Ron groaned, burying his face in his hands, the faint toffee scent on his fingers betraying his earlier snack. "I don't care about 'resonance,' Hermione! I just want my quill to stop running off!"
Alex seized the opening, leaning forward with a calculated grin. "She's half-right, Ron, but she's missing the practical bit. It's not resonance—it's about binding Aetheric Essence to an object's surface. Like magical glue, not some spiritual dance." His voice was smooth, but his heart raced, the CS ache a faint throb. "Keep it vague, sound smart, don't let her dig."
Hermione snapped her book shut, her brown eyes narrowing. "That's an oversimplification, Alex. I've read five texts on sympathetic magic, and none mention 'magical glue.' Where are you getting this?" Her tone was a challenge, her fingers gripping her quill like a wand.
Alex's smile didn't waver, though his stomach twisted. "She's too sharp. One slip, and she'll know I'm pulling from nowhere." He leaned back, sipping his tea to buy time. "You're stuck on theory, Hermione. Application's what matters. A sticking charm's like a temporary sealant—low AE, short-term bind. Anything stronger needs runes and a permanent anchor. Muggle-born texts on transient field mechanics explain it better than wizarding ones." The made-up term was a gamble, drawn from his past life's tech jargon, but it sounded plausible.
Hermione's composure cracked, her quill pausing mid-air. She scrambled through her book, pages rustling furiously. "Transient field mechanics? That's not in any first-year text!" Her voice rose, drawing a sharp shh from Madame Pince.
Alex's triumph was fleeting, overshadowed by a flicker of guilt. "I'm cheating, and she knows it. But I can't back down." As Hermione hunted for a counter-argument, his eyes caught a glint of red and gold on a high shelf near the Restricted Section. The title—Secrets of the Immortal Alchemists—sparked a memory: Nicholas Flamel, the Philosopher's Stone.
[System Command: Log Title. Priority: High-Value Meta-Data.]
[Log Success: Book Title Acquired: Secrets of the Immortal Alchemists.]
"Quirrell's target. It's already in play." His pulse quickened, the system's confirmation grounding his racing thoughts. He adjusted his robes, the rough fabric a reminder to stay focused.
Harry nudged him, his voice low. "What's this 'transient field mechanics' nonsense? You just make that up?"
Alex winked, masking his nerves. "Maybe. But she hasn't proved me wrong, has she?"
Hermione returned, her face set in determined challenge. "I'm checking the Restricted Section for early texts on your so-called 'field mechanics.' If you're reading beyond the syllabus, I want sources." She stormed off, her robes swishing, leaving a faint scent of ink and lavender.
Alex's triumph soured. "She's not just curious—she's hunting. If she digs too deep, the Enigma's at risk." Ron groaned, breaking the tension. "Thank Merlin she's gone. You two are like owls fighting over a worm."
Two nights later, Alex sat alone in the Slytherin common room, the green-tinted light from the lake casting hypnotic ripples across the stone walls. The air was cold, heavy with mildew and the faint tang of iron. Wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket, he held a smooth river stone, its cool weight a keepsake from the orphanage, a talisman of his old life. The fire's green flames hissed, their crackle the only sound in the empty room. "Hermione's outpacing me. I'm not learning—I'm reciting. I need something to make this knowledge mine."
His insecurity drove him to a solution: a Mnemonic Locket, an artifact to anchor his meta-knowledge as intuitive memory, bypassing conscious recall. He visualized neural pathways, translating them into magical terms—sympathetic resonance to store and release data. "If I can craft this, I'm not just a fraud. I'm a creator."
He moved to his trunk, the cold floor biting through his socks. From his supply pouch, he gathered materials: small quartz chips, clear and glinting, for clarity of thought; a length of tarnished copper wire, scavenged from a broken dorm lamp, for AE conductivity. The Rule of Sympathy guided his choices, each item chosen for its magical affinity. Back by the fire, he arranged the materials on the river stone, his fingers trembling with anticipation.
Closing his eyes, he activated the system.
[Artificer's Enigma: Conceptualization: Mnemonic Locket Initiated.]
[AE Consumed: 5 Remaining AE: 45/50]
The AE drain was a cool pull in his chest, like a sip of icy water. A glowing wireframe locket appeared in his mind, awaiting runic etchings. He sketched sequences for memory storage, retrieval, and psychic damping, each rune a delicate balance of intent and power. The mental strain was intense, a dull ache spreading behind his eyes, but the act of creation was exhilarating. "This is what I was born for—building, not just surviving."
He stopped after minutes, sweat beading on his forehead. The design was rough, error-prone, but promising. Footsteps echoed—the portrait hole opening. Alex draped the blanket over himself, feigning sleep, the materials hidden in his lap. "No one can know. Not yet."
The next day, the library's warm light felt like a reprieve, the atmosphere shifting to triumphant relief. Alex, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at the oak table, the tension lighter but still present. Ron slammed his textbook shut, his face flushed. "My brain's mush. We need a break. A quiz!"
Hermione didn't look up, her quill scratching. "A syllabus quiz, Ron? You'd lose spectacularly."
"Not syllabus—Wizarding World trivia!" Ron grinned, his eyes glinting. "Fred told me about the World Cup. Bet you don't know who caught the Snitch with his mouth last."
Alex saw his chance to rebuild confidence. "I'm in. Stakes?"
"Ten Sickles and a bag of Bertie Bott's," Ron declared, tossing a colorful bag onto the table.
The quiz was fierce. Hermione named the Snitch's inventor; Ron countered with Quidditch trivia. Alex stayed quiet, letting them tire each other out. Then Ron threw his ace: "Who was the first recorded victim of a self-stirring cauldron?"
Hermione faltered. "That's not in Hogwarts: A History!"
Alex leaned forward, meta-knowledge flowing. "Thaddeus Trussle, 1698. Thought he could make it stir while he was at the pub. It spun so fast it blew up his shop."
Ron's jaw dropped. "That's what Fred said! How'd you know?"
Alex shrugged, his heart racing. "Good memory. My turn: who tried to transfigure the moon into cheese in the 15th century and vanished?"
Hermione shook her head, defeated. "It's a legend, undocumented!"
"Baruffio. Accidental vanishing. No cheese, just gone. I win." Alex scooped the Sickles and beans, his grin masking the thrill of victory. Hermione's eyes burned with suspicion, a silent vow to unravel his secret.
He opened the bag, offering it around. "Spoils of war. Greenish-yellow, anyone?"
Ron recoiled. "That's vomit, mate!"
Harry grabbed a purple bean, chewing happily. "Blueberry!"
Hermione took a brown one, her face twisting. "Earwax! I knew it!" Her disgust sparked laughter, the shared moment warming Alex's chest. "This is what friends feel like. This is worth fighting for."
He pocketed the locket materials, his resolve firm. The Stone's threat loomed, and his artifact was key to staying ahead. "Hermione's watching, but I'm not backing down."
Mechanics Recap: AE at 45/50; CS at 15%.
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