"Who is this Nicolas Flammel, and what does he have to do with whatever Hagrid took from the vault a month ago?" Harry asked with a frown as the group headed back up toward the castle from Hagrid's hut.
Julian did not volunteer any of the information he already knew, but he did wince slightly when Tracy came to an abrupt halt at Harry's question, eyes wide.
Right, nobles like them probably get taught this sort of thing at home, he thought with a quiet sigh. Yet another way things were starting to drift away from the "canon" he remembered.
Thankfully, Harry finding out early what was hidden in the third floor corridor probably would not change too much in the grand scheme of things.
...
"Nicolas Flammel is the immortal alchemist," Tracy burst out, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "He is the one who created the Sorcerer's Stone, the artifact that can turn common stone into gold and brew the Elixir of Life. That is what has kept him and his wife alive for the last six hundred years. He even taught Dumbledore alchemy when the Headmaster was younger!"
"Is that what Hagrid took from Gringotts? The Stone?" Harry exclaimed, eyes going round as he linked the information together.
Tracy nodded slowly. "That is what it sounds like. But why would he give something like that to Dumbledore?" she asked, puzzled.
"Who can tell what ancient codgers get up to behind the scenes?" Julian said with a shrug, clearly trying to steer the conversation toward safer waters.
...
"That is a fair point, I suppose," Tracy conceded after mulling it over. "Maybe Dumbledore is just studying the Stone so he can attempt to create one of his own?"
By the time they passed back through the main doors into the castle, Julian was already shifting his focus. He quietly ran a check over himself for any tracking spells and found none aside from the one Dumbledore had already placed on him.
He used that as an excuse to peel away from the group. "I am going to go take care of something. I will see you later," he said, before turning down a different corridor.
Best to put in my request for that room as soon as I can, he thought. I am already starting to accumulate orders.
...
Julian moved quickly, but with care, as he made his way through the halls. He kept his magical senses extended, searching for any invisible disturbances, any ripple of presence that might signal someone concealed nearby.
Maintaining that sort of constant vigilance placed a heavy strain on both his mind and body. After a while, a thin trickle of blood slid from one nostril, the price for pushing his senses so hard.
He still judged it worth it. The last thing he could afford was to be ambushed by someone hiding under an invisibility charm.
Quirrelmort was creeping around the castle at the moment, doing who knew what in his free time, and Julian had no interest in accidentally stumbling into him in the wrong corridor at the wrong moment. The books had never gone into what Quirrell and his clingy afterlife passenger got up to between major events, besides hunting unicorns. Julian had absolutely no intention of poking that particular hornet's nest to find out.
...
He eventually reached Professor McGonagall's office near the Gryffindor common room without incident. Before he knocked, he wiped the blood from his upper lip with a quick cleansing charm, making sure there was no trace left.
"You may enter," came the crisp, familiar voice of the elderly witch from within.
Julian opened the door and stepped inside.
The office turned out to be smaller than he had imagined, just large enough to fit a sturdy desk and a few wall shelves laden with books and small trinkets, with not much room leftover. It did not feel cramped though, merely compact and efficient.
Warm shades of red and gold dominated the decor, clearly reflecting her affection for her house. The air carried a faint, pleasant hint of agarwood, adding to the comfortable atmosphere.
"Ah, Mr. Iron, I was expecting a visit from you either today or tomorrow," McGonagall said, a small smile softening her stern features. "Please, take a seat so we can discuss what you have come about. Biscuit?"
She held out a tray of English biscuits.
Julian sat in the single plain wooden chair in front of her desk and politely took one.
"I am assuming I am correct in thinking your visit concerns a request to use one of the unused classrooms as a personal workshop, yes?" the professor asked in her usual calm, measured tone.
...
Julian blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then quickly pieced together how she already knew. "Professor Flitwick must have mentioned it to you and the other teachers," he said.
McGonagall inclined her head. "Yes. Filius was quite enthusiastic after he learned of your familiarity with the crafting arts. I will admit, several of us were skeptical of his claims at first, until Albus personally vouched for their accuracy."
She did not mention the slight twitch she had noticed at the corner of Julian's brow when the Headmaster's name entered the conversation.
"I am self taught, if that helps clear anything up," Julian replied. Since he considered the system to be part of himself now, the statement was true enough.
"It does, to an extent," she said, accepting that with a nod. "However, we are straying from the actual reason you are here."
She folded her hands neatly on the desk and continued, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Regarding your request to use a classroom for recreational crafting activities, it has been approved. All that remains is for you to choose which unused classroom will serve that purpose, in the presence of a member of staff, so it can be formally recorded."
Her smile widened very slightly as she watched Julian's expression brighten with genuine enthusiasm. In her eyes, it was a pity that so few students showed even half as much passion for any craft or discipline outside their usual lessons.