Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 18: The Sorcerer's Stone

Harry threw the book down on the table. It banged loudly, attracting Madam Pince's attention. "Mr. Riddle! This is a library! Please refrain from making noise! And do not abuse a book in such a manner!"

Harry plastered on a remorseful expression. "I'm sorry, Madam Pince. I wasn't thinking. My thoughts have been wandering lately. I'll never do it again."

"5 points from-"

"But," Harry slinked up to Pince and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I really shouldn't be telling on him like this . . ."

Madam Pince seemed rather suspicious. "But?"

"Well, Ronald Weasley was drinking his pumpkin juice while he was doing his homework, and as it just so happened, his pet rat - Scabbers, I think he's called - came up and knocked the juice over - all over one of your books."

Madam Pince gasped. "Weasley? Ronald Weasley? From Gryffindor?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why, thank you for alerting me, Mr. Riddle. I'll have to look into this." The stuffy librarian turned sharply on her heels and stalked away.

"That was a very evil thing to do, Harry," Hermione whispered from her place at the table. The reprimand didn't have much effect as she was too engrossed in her book to look up as she said it.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and sat back down. "He had it coming."

Neville gulped and looked back to his work. Draco just smiled.

"Have you still not found anything on Nicolas Flamel, Harry?"

Harry leaned back in his chair and scowled. "No. I've looked everywhere. I even cross-referenced his name with Dumbledore's. Nothing. Nada. Not even a bloody mention in passing." Harry gritted his teeth and dug through his pocket, finally pulling out a chocolate frog.

"You aren't allowed to eat in here, Harry."

The boy glanced over at the reference desk. "She's not in here." He ripped the packaging open and the frog jumped out onto the desk. Harry quickly grabbed it and shoved it into his mouth.

"What card did you get?" Draco asked. "I need Circe. I have about twelve of Merlin, though."

Harry pulled the small card from the wrappings and held it up. "Dumbledore." Harry flipped the card over and scanned the small paragraph.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945,-

Harry absently rubbed the pendant that hung around his neck.

-for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel-

The card slipped from Harry's suddenly limp grasp.

Hermione rushed towards Harry's table with a giant, old book in her hands.
"I never thought that I should look in here!" she exclaimed. "I got this out of the library a while ago for a bit of light reading-"

Neville swallowed. "Light reading?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and began frantically flipping through the worn pages of the book. After going through about half the book, the over-excited Ravenclaw threw her head up happily to look over at Harry. "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone."

Harry gasped. Neville and Draco looked mystified. Hermione and Harry paid no attention to them.

"The Sorcerer's Stone?!" Harry exclaimed. "The Sorcerer's Stone?!"

"Yes!" Hermione shouted back.

A sharp reprimand from Madam Pince interrupted their excitement.

"What in the bloody hell is the Sorcerer's Stone?" Draco whispered.

"I read about it in some of my father's books," Harry panted out. "It produces an elixir which makes whoever drinks it immortal!"

Hermione nodded frantically in agreement.

"Okay," Draco said slowly. "And . . . what does this have to do with Nicolas Flamel again?"

Hermione growled in frustration and shoved the book in front of him and Neville.

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer'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 Sorcerer'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).

"The dog must be guarding the stone. Someone must be after it!" Harry paused and let out a frustrated sigh. "The only question is - Who?"