Lewis did not disappoint them and immediately revealed Nicolas Flamel's identity. "Nicolas Flamel is a famous alchemist and a collaborator of Professor Albus Dumbledore." At this point, he deliberately lowered his voice in a mysterious tone. "Not only that—he is also the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone."
Lewis had expected a chorus of shocked reactions—"What?" "Really?" "It's him?"—but instead, he was met with Harry and Ron asking in unison, "What's the Philosopher's Stone?"
For a moment, Lewis nearly laughed out of sheer disbelief. He looked at their utterly confused faces and saw in their eyes a kind of "pure, unfiltered stupidity." He felt like bowing to these two illiterates on the spot.
Beside them, Hermione Granger flushed bright red with embarrassment, too ashamed to even look at Lewis. The feeling was like bringing two clueless country bumpkins to meet a city friend, only to have them gape at everything in awe. The secondhand embarrassment was so intense she wished she could dig a hole with her toes and disappear into it. Rolling her eyes at the two boys, she snapped, "What's wrong with you? Do you ever read? The Philosopher's Stone is a man-made magical stone. It can produce the Elixir of Life, which grants immortality, and it can also turn any metal into pure gold."
Hearing this, Harry and Ron were stunned, especially Ron—at the mention of pure gold, his mouth opened wide enough to fit an entire apple. Lewis nodded and added, "At present, the only known Philosopher's Stone belongs to Nicolas Flamel. He celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year and currently lives in Devon with his wife, Perenelle."
"That three-headed dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione immediately concluded.
"I bet Flamel asked Dumbledore to keep it safe," she continued. "They're friends, and he must have known someone was after it. That's why it was moved out of Gringotts Wizarding Bank."
"A stone that can make gold and grant eternal life!" Harry Potter exclaimed in realization. "No wonder Snape is after it—anyone would want that!"
"No wonder we couldn't find Flamel in Modern Magical Developments," Ron added. "If he's six hundred and sixty-five, he's definitely not 'modern,' right?"
With this revelation, the trio felt they had taken another step closer to uncovering the mystery. As for Lewis, it had little to do with him, and he soon returned to his usual routine of study and daily life.
Aside from regular classes, several Quidditch matches were coming up, including Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Lewis had already made a strong impression in Ravenclaw's match against Hufflepuff, overwhelming them completely, but Hufflepuff had long been the weakest team. The real challenge lay with Slytherin and Gryffindor—especially Slytherin, Ravenclaw's next opponent and the long-standing powerhouse of the Quidditch Cup.
Even with Lewis as a new addition, Ravenclaw entered an intense state of preparation. On the eve of the match, all normal activities in the common room ceased. The captain, Roger, polished and waxed his broom repeatedly, as if he intended to blind the Slytherins with its shine. Cho Chang meticulously checked her broom's condition, repairing even the smallest flaw, worried that someone might curse it. After all, Harry's previous incident was still fresh in everyone's minds. Lewis felt that if she kept going like this, the broom would break without any curse at all.
Professor Filius Flitwick appeared in the common room six times that day alone. The usually sharp-minded professor seemed almost forgetful, repeatedly asking Lewis and Cirila whether they were confident in defeating Slytherin.
Even Hermione quietly slipped into Ravenclaw Tower to see Lewis. "I can't stay in the Gryffindor common room," she said nervously. "It's too noisy—I can't focus."
The Gryffindors seemed even more anxious than Ravenclaw. After Ravenclaw's match, Gryffindor would face Hufflepuff. Because Ravenclaw had scored such a decisive victory, Gryffindor was currently third in the rankings, only ahead of Hufflepuff. Everyone knew that their captain, Oliver Wood, was counting on Harry to reclaim the Quidditch Cup. To make matters worse, the referee for that match would be Severus Snape, who notoriously favored Slytherin. No one could predict how biased his officiating might be.
Ironically, when it came to Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, the Gryffindors found themselves supporting… Slytherin. Despite their hatred for the house, they had already beaten Slytherin once, and Ravenclaw's high score made them a bigger threat. If Ravenclaw won again, Gryffindor might lose the Cup even if they defeated them later. On matters like this, practicality won over rivalry.
As for Hermione, while she should support Gryffindor as a member of the house, her personal feelings leaned toward Ravenclaw—because Lewis, the friend she admired and who had saved her life, was on that team. Torn between the two, she came to support him in secret before the match.
Sitting on the sofa, she held a Quidditch strategy book and earnestly tried to offer advice, explaining tactics she had read. Lewis listened just as seriously, then quietly pointed out where her analysis fell short. Only then did Hermione realize that her attempt to help had turned into another lesson from him. "Oh… is that how it works? Sorry, I'm terrible at Quidditch. You can just ignore what I said," she admitted, blushing.
What worked when giving advice to Harry and Ron only made her look out of her depth in front of Lewis. Intelligence had its limits—what she could think of, he had already considered.
Yet Lewis didn't mind her clumsy help at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. Among the Ravenclaws, only he and Cirila were truly confident about the upcoming match. They understood their own strength and the dominance they could achieve together. Their combination could easily perform even in professional matches; in Hogwarts, it was outright overwhelming. No amount of dirty tactics or biased refereeing could bridge that gap.
With such confidence, Lewis had the leisure to tease a certain girl while everyone else was tense. "No one is born good at Quidditch," he said gently. "If you want, I can teach you during the summer."
Unlike her academic excellence, Hermione's flying skills were quite poor—she became frightened after rising just a few meters into the air. But compared to someone like Cirila, who could master a broom instantly, Lewis found Hermione's clumsiness far more appealing. It was the same logic as boys preferring to visit haunted houses with timid girls—if it were Cirila instead, the ones getting scared would probably be the staff.
At his offer, Hermione felt a small surge of excitement, despite herself. "Summer? Okay… I'll remember that. And for the next match—you have to do your best!"
"Of course."
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