The afternoon sunlight slipped through the narrow arrow slits in the castle's thick stone walls.
It broke into thin strands of pale gold that scattered across the floor in fragmented patches.
Lucian sat quietly in a secluded corner of a staircase, meditating.
But peace in Hogwarts rarely lasted long.
Soon, a mix of footsteps and complaints drifted up the spiral stairs.
"My teeth definitely cracked. I swear they cracked," Ron's voice came first. His words were muffled, as if he had stuffed a piece of burnt wood in his mouth.
"Hagrid's rock cakes are basically cousins of granite.
If anyone calls those things snacks again, I'll shove one up Goyle's nose. It'll choke him until next year."
"Stop complaining, Ron," Hermione said tensely. "At least Hagrid pointed us in the right direction… even if it was by accident."
"Nicolas Flamel…" Harry's voice followed, filled with confusion. "I'm sure I've seen that name somewhere before."
The trio rounded the corner and immediately stopped.
Lucian leaned against the wall, calmly watching the three unexpected intruders.
His eyes drifted to the brick-like brown object in Ron's hand.
Lucian commented, "If your intention is to murder a dentist, that would make an excellent weapon."
Ron instantly hid the rock cake behind his back.
His face turned bright red.
Looking at Lucian's composed expression, the way he seemed to see through everything, Ron felt awkward and irritated at the same time.
He muttered to himself silently.
'Look at him. The way he talks is worse than Snape. I seriously don't get why Harry and Hermione act like they're wary of him.'
But Hermione didn't retreat.
The girl with bushy brown hair stepped forward instead of shrinking back like most first-year girls would.
She moved in front of Harry and Ron and met Lucian's gaze directly.
Her hand instinctively pressed against her pocket, where Lucian's handkerchief was still kept.
Ever since Halloween, a strange instinct had settled in her mind.
Never lose that handkerchief.
If she did, something bad would happen.
"Lucian," Hermione began cautiously. "About certain things from before... I think we need to talk."
Lucian closed the book in his hand.
"If this is about apologizing for Halloween," he said calmly, standing up as his black robes fell like raven wings, "or accusations that I secretly cast spells on you, then it's unnecessary."
"I have no interest in meaningless social exchanges."
Hermione bit her lip.
She could feel the suffocating distance in his tone.
"No," she said after taking a deep breath. "I mean… about Professor Snape. Maybe you were right. Our suspicions didn't really have logical support."
Behind her, Harry and Ron stared in disbelief.
This was Hermione.
Hermione, who always trusted books and teachers. And she was admitting she might be wrong?
Lucian watched her carefully.
Within his inner vision, the golden threads above Hermione's head trembled violently.
The will of the world was trying to stop her.
Trying to make her say something more fitting for the reckless Gryffindor script. Something that would push her back toward blindly distrusting Snape.
But she resisted.
Even if the handkerchief she carried only helped a little.
Lucian nodded slightly.
"Good."
"Learning to question the script is the first step toward escaping the puppet strings."
He turned to leave.
This level of interaction was already enough to draw attention from the world.
He had no intention of wasting more of his allowance here.
"Wait!"
Harry suddenly called out.
He instinctively touched the Galleon in his pocket. The cold metal gave him courage.
"Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is? We've been trying to find him."
"We asked Hagrid," Ron quickly added, eager to show they had important information. "He accidentally mentioned him. Whatever Snape wants to steal must be connected to him!"
Lucian stopped walking.
"You spent two weeks searching the library," he said calmly, "and yet you never even opened The Modern History of Alchemy?"
"What's strange about that?" Ron muttered defensively. "There are thousands of books in the library…"
"Nicolas Flamel is a collaborator of Headmaster Dumbledore and one of the last surviving masters of alchemy from the old era," Lucian said.
His voice echoed lightly in the empty stairwell.
"At the same time, he is also the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone."
"What stone?" Harry and Ron asked at the same time.
Only Hermione suddenly gasped.
Her eyes lit up with recognition.
"The Philosopher's Stone? I've read about it! The ultimate creation of ancient alchemy!"
"Ancient alchemy involves the fundamental transformation of matter," Lucian continued, still watching Harry rather than Hermione.
"It produces a substance with remarkable properties. The Philosopher's Stone can turn any metal into pure gold.
It can also create the Elixir of Life, which grants immortality to whoever drinks it."
"Turn things into gold? And make people live forever?" Harry said in shock. "No wonder Snape wants it. Anyone would!"
Ron's mouth fell open.
He didn't even notice the rock cake slipping from his hand and landing on his foot.
"Immortality?" Lucian said quietly with a faint scoff.
"Nicolas Flamel celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year.
Using external objects to lock a decaying body in place like that… you call that living?"
"And using the Philosopher's Stone for nothing more than prolonging such a trivial lifespan is the greatest insult to a miracle like that."
"That giant dog must be guarding the Stone!" Hermione said quickly as her mind raced ahead.
"Flamel trusted Dumbledore to protect it because he knew someone like Voldemort might try to steal it!"
"Your reasoning is mostly correct," Lucian said with a small nod.
He didn't deny it.
"But a reminder."
Lucian began walking again, passing Harry. "Sometimes the dragon guarding the treasure isn't the most dangerous thing."
"The most dangerous one is often the person guiding you to it."
With that, he disappeared around the corner. His footsteps faded quickly into silence.
Harry remained where he stood, gripping the coin tightly in his hand.
"What did he mean by that?" Ron said while picking up the rock cake and brushing off the dust. "He always talks like that. No one understands him."
"I don't know," Harry said quietly.
He looked toward the corner where Lucian had vanished.
His scar throbbed faintly.
"...but it feels like he knows everything."
....
At the same time, Lucian turned another corner deeper within the castle.
His hand slipped inside his robe.
"The real key has always been in the pocket of an observer," he murmured softly.
"But it might be worth seeing Nicolas Flamel's miracle with my own eyes."
As he spoke, the bronze eagle door of Ravenclaw Tower came into view.
The eagle-shaped knocker gleamed in the torchlight. When Lucian stepped onto the final stair, the eagle's eyes suddenly moved.
Its beak opened.
"Flowers become precious because they wither. Stars shine because they burn."
"If something never diminishes, never ends, and never needs to be cherished, then is it truly a gift… or a long curse?"
Lucian stopped and looked at the eagle.
"The question itself already contains the answer," he said softly.
"There is no such thing as a true gift... If the inevitable ending is removed, then the process itself loses all meaning."
"That would not be eternity. It would simply be an endless repetition without a final period."
"...Very reasonable."
The bronze eagle gave a sound of approval.
The door quietly swung open.
__________
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