Christmas was approaching.
One mid-December morning, Hogwarts awoke to find itself covered in several feet of snow, and the lake frozen solid.
The Weasley twins were punished for enchanting several snowballs to chase Quirrell around and strike him on the back of his turban.
Draco was somewhat shocked to hear this news; in a sense, it was like slapping Voldemort in the face.
"No wonder one of those brothers later lost an ear, and the other died outright; offending the Dark Lord directly is never wise." Of course, this was only a wry thought from Draco. In truth, in Voldemort's eyes, anyone who refused to submit deserved death, or at the very least removal if they obstructed his plans.
Professor Snape was a good example. It was not because his true allegiance had been discovered, but simply because Voldemort wished to change the ownership of the Elder Wand; he could strangle a seemingly loyal subordinate without hesitation.
Lost in thought, Draco looked up and gazed out of the window.
Several owls flew through the stormy sky delivering mail, enduring harsh winds; they had to rest under Hagrid's care before taking flight again.
With Christmas approaching, the owls were busier than ever, as there were simply too many letters and parcels.
Draco also received a letter from home; Narcissa wished him to return for Christmas.
Compared with going home, Draco actually found the school library more appealing.
"But I still have to return; there's somewhere I must visit," Draco thought, recalling the plan he had already made.
His fingers glided over the pages as Draco, seated in a corner, flipped through an ancient volume. The yellowed parchment seemed as though it might crumble at the slightest touch.
"The Restricted Section holds not only dark magic, but dark history as well." He gently closed the book. The gilded title had long since peeled away, faintly revealing the words: The Unknown History of Dark Magic.
While silently digesting the wealth of information, Draco suddenly heard a middle-aged woman's voice. "What are you looking for, child?" It was Madam Pince, guardian of the Restricted Section.
"Nothing," came a boy's voice.
Through the gaps between the shelves, Draco saw Harry looking around, now being questioned by Madam Pince.
"Then you'd best leave. Go on, out," Madam Pince ordered.
Harry glanced helplessly through the shelves; he also saw Draco.
However, it was clear that one of them had permission and the other did not, and their treatment differed accordingly.
Harry regretted not thinking quickly enough to invent an excuse, perhaps claiming he was looking for a classmate. But he soon remembered that he did not have a particularly good relationship with Draco, and if exposed, it might even cost Gryffindor points.
Lost in thought, Harry left the library, hoping Ron or Hermione might uncover new clues, though he did not have much hope.
The matter had begun after the Quidditch match, when Hermione claimed she had seen Snape muttering over Harry's broom, and Harry himself had noticed Snape's injured leg.
Connecting this with Hagrid's three-headed dog, the three of them concluded that Snape intended to harm Harry and seemed to be attempting to steal something highly valuable, which was how he had been bitten.
Hagrid had also let slip a few careless remarks.
From this, they learned that everything seemed connected to a man named Nicolas Flamel.
However, all clues appeared to end there.
In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had her head buried on the table, while Ron idly fiddled with his battered wizard chess set; clearly, they were still at an impasse.
"I was thrown out by Madam Pince," Harry said gloomily.
"I suspect he might not even be a wizard," Hermione groaned weakly. "Otherwise,e how could he not appear anywhere?"
"He's not listed among the great wizards of the twentieth century, nor in the directory of famous contemporary witches and wizards.
And his name doesn't appear in major modern magical discoveries or recent studies of magical development." Hermione ticked off the references she had already consulted.
"He's driving me mad," Hermione said, running her hands through her bushy hair in frustration.
"I think Madam Pince definitely knows," Harry added.
"But we can't ask," Ron cut in. "If we ask, Snape will find out, and that's not safe."
"While I'm away, you two must keep looking, alright?" Hermione said. "If you discover anything, send me an owl."
"You could ask your parents whether they know this Flamel," Ron suggested. "That would be safe."
"Extremely safe, considering they're both dentists," Hermione replied dryly.
"I have a suggestion. Why don't we ask Draco? He has permission to access the Restricted Section," Harry said hesitantly.
"Harry, have you lost your mind? He's a Slytherin! And Snape is their Head of House!" Ron slammed his hand on the table and stood up. "And I doubt he'd tell us, would he, Hermione?" Ron turned to her.
"I don't know." Hermione looked slightly uncomfortable.
Clearly, she had not yet told them that she and Draco were, in fact, on relatively amicable terms.
"I honestly don't think he's a bad person. Perhaps we misjudged him on the train," Harry said.
"If you want to go, go. I'm not apologising to him," Ron said, dropping a chess piece onto the board with a loud thud.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, deciding not to pursue the matter further.
"So you came to ask me?" Draco lifted his eyes from his book and looked at Hermione.
"You know who he is, don't you?" Hermione asked, hope in her eyes.
"Is this person truly so important to you?" Draco asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Extremely important," Hermione nodded firmly.
"But I do not feel obliged to tell you," Draco's voice turned cool. "If you were asking me privately as a friend, I would gladly help. But your two friends would hardly welcome my assistance. Don't you think that's unfair to me?"
"It isn't like that. Harry even suggested asking you," Hermione hurried to explain.
"Did he? Then where is he?"
"Ron objected. He still seems to resent you, and Harry couldn't insist," Hermione's voice softened.
"Then perhaps I should not help. They might not even believe it if they learned I told you," Draco said quietly.
"No, that's not true," Hermione shook her head.
"Very well, I'll tell you. Nicolas Flamel is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone, the greatest alchemist, and Dumbledore's friend. Is that sufficient? Satisfied?" Draco said calmly. "And now, Miss Granger, this is the Restricted Section. I believe you should leave."
"Why has it come to this?" Hermione felt a strange ache as she met Draco's cold gaze.
The information she had just obtained brought her no joy.
She walked out of the library in a daze.
The winter air did not chill her; her heart felt colder still.
She began examining her friendships, yet her thoughts were hopelessly tangled.
Watching Hermione's retreating figure, Draco released a long breath.
This friendship should not have existed in the first place. On the train, Draco had merely wished to see whether he could alter the course of history, but he had failed.
Later, he resolved to keep his distance, only to be moved by Hermione's courage in apologising.
When they met again in the libra,ry and he saw her distress, he was unable to ignore it, even taking her secretly to Hogsmeade once.
Yet the barriers between Houses and between friends remained, and once exposed, they spared no one.
"It must be faced eventually, so better sooner than later," Draco thought.
He knew that even without his interference, similar conflicts would arise again.
If the friendship were to endure, this was a trial they both had to confront.
"Whether it ends or is reborn is up to you," Draco thought. "I will be the villain this time."
Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room expressionless.
The warmth of the fire offered slight comfort.
She saw Ron and Harry happily playing wizard chess.
"I know who Nicolas Flamel is," Hermione said calmly.
"Oh, Harry, your knight is mine." Ron was about to capture the piece when both boys suddenly reacted.
"What did you say? You know who he is?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Hermione, you're brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione kept her voice steady. "He is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone, the greatest alchemist, and Dumbledore's friend."
"The Philosopher's Stone!" Ron cried. "No wonder Snape wants it. Anyone would."
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"My brothers used to talk about it. They said if you had it, you'd have endless gold and never need to work again.
And they also said it can produce the Elixir of Life, granting immortality."
"That explains everything," Harry said. "Nicolas Flamel and Professor Dumbledore are friends. He must have asked Dumbledore to store the Stone here for safekeeping.
That three-headed dog must be guarding it.
Snape tried to steal it and got bitten."
"Hermione, you're a real hero," Ron said again.
Hermione managed a faint, unnatural smile.
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