Starry skies and Gardenias

Chapter 14

The first thing Isabella did in the morning was rush to the library. She didn't even take in the decorations of the castle. 

She scoured through the bookshelves to find Nicholas Flamel. 

If her intuition was wrong, then it meant she was back onto the first square. 

She finally found him. 

Nicholas Flamel.

Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone.
The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

Isabella leaned back in her seat with a smirk.

This must be it. It was the Philosopher's stone. At least her intuition said that she was right. 

So now she knew that Voldemort was after this stone, and this would most likely happen somewhere in the future.  . .or she was just dreaming nonsense. 

Either way, Voldemort was certainly weakened, because he had to drink unicorn blood to regain a portion of his power and then he wished to get the Stone so that he could be immortal or gain enough strength to rise to power again.

Hold up!

Rise to power again? Why did she think that? 

There was no record or an instant where it was said that Voldemort was defeated.  . .

Yes, but he was too weak to do things by himself.

That's all good. But who defeated him in the first place?

Must be related to Harry Potter for sure. 

Isabella got up and put the book back on its shelf. Then she walked out of the library, going to the Gryffindor common room, wishing that it would be nice if she could see a bit more of those dreams she had. 

But Isabella's wish didn't come true. 

She didn't have a single dream and it was already March. 

Easter holidays weren't as fun as Christmas. They had lots of homework to do and McGonagall had said that she would proceed to an advanced spell in their next class.

"Wands out," McGonagall instructed. "Concentrate and make the precise wand movements. Make sure you say the incantation clearly. Avifors,"

Isabella pointed her wand at the goblet she was supposed to transfigure into a bird.

She cleared a throat and moved her wand in an inverted eight-figure and said, "Avifors,"

There was a brilliant flash of blue and the next second her goblet had turned into along tailed, glossy starling.

The bird gave a harch grating cry, ruffled its feathers and took off into the air, flying around the classroom getting a lot of attention.

"Excellent work, Miss Jefferson," McGonagall said loudly, giving Isabella one of her rare smiles. "Ten points to Gryffindor and ten to get it right on your very first try,"