The following day was Saturday. After gracing the Gryffindor table with his presence that morning, Warren spotted Harry and Ron heading toward the Forbidden Forest. Hermione trailed behind them, clutching a book.
"I'm going to watch you," she said.
Ron was convinced Hermione was out for revenge. He figured she was going to spy on them, waiting for them to slip up so she could report them to a professor.
Harry didn't think so. "Hermione cares about House points more than anyone. She wouldn't wait for us to mess up just to cost Gryffindor points."
Then what does she want? Merlin's beard, do you have any idea how creepy it is to turn around and find someone looming over your shoulder?
Harry did not want to know.
They went to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid welcomed them warmly. Hermione came inside too, though she barely spoke to Harry or Ron, preferring to chat mostly with Hagrid.
While they were there, Harry noticed a newspaper article about a break-in at Gringotts. The date matched the day he and Hagrid had gone to the bank. Recalling the mysterious item Hagrid had retrieved, Harry quickly put the pieces together.
On their way back, he showed the newspaper to Ron and Hermione. "Whoever broke into Gringotts was probably after whatever Hagrid took. He was being so secretive about it. He kept saying how important it was."
"Look at this part. 'The vault that was broken into had actually been emptied earlier that same day.' That has to be it. Vault seven hundred and thirteen. There was nothing in there but a grubby little package. Hagrid took it. No wonder it was empty."
"Wicked."
Ron whistled. Then Harry seemed to remember something. He looked hopefully at his two friends.
"Er, Hagrid made me promise not to tell anyone. You'll keep it a secret, won't you?"
"My lips are sealed."
Ron thumped his chest, then started coughing.
Hermione sniffed. "I know how to keep a secret."
Right. That was exactly what Harry had told Hagrid.
Unsurprisingly, Warren knew everything by the very next day. The Philosopher's Stone...
Warren went to the library and found a book on this legendary alchemical artifact. He stared at the illustration and fell into deep thought. Unlike the fanfiction he had read in his previous life, where many authors dismissed the Stone as unimportant, the more Warren studied magic, the more he understood just how extraordinary the Philosopher's Stone truly was.
It could reverse matter itself, achieving what even the most advanced Transfiguration could not. It could change the fundamental nature of a substance and turn any metal into pure gold. The Elixir of Life brewed from it was the only proven method for conquering death. Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, had lived an extra six hundred years because of it. Six centuries. Was there anything more remarkable in the entire magical world?
Of course, that kind of immortality seemed to come with side effects. Warren remembered watching Fantastic Beasts in his previous life. Flamel had appeared as a comical old man suffering from severe osteoporosis.
"Rumor has it the Flamels are hiding out in Devon. My family lives there too. It is a pity I do not know the exact location. Given how cautious they are, they have probably placed something like the Fidelius Charm on their home, preventing anyone else from finding it. Otherwise, I would love to pay him a visit and have a proper conversation."
Warren hadn't yet explored Alchemy. It was a far more esoteric discipline. Although the Hogwarts library held several volumes on the subject, Warren found them utterly baffling. The texts were rife with discussions on "spiritual journeys" and the concept of creating something from nothing. Reading them felt like trying to decipher the incoherent ramblings of a drunkard.
He closed the book and turned to leave, only for a system panel to materialize abruptly before his eyes.
[New Quest Activated]
[Side Quest 1: Obtain the Philosopher's Stone]
[Reward: Alchemy Affinity]
Warren stared at the notification. The system's quests were becoming increasingly absurd.
The Philosopher's Stone was currently the focal point of both the Dark Lord and the White Lord. Anyone would have to be out of their mind to go after it.
Dismissing the system panel, Warren returned the book and made his way toward Professor Snape's office.
Honestly, Warren thought Snape had terrible taste.
His Potions classroom and office were located in the darkest, gloomiest corners of the dungeons.
The moment someone stepped into the corridor, the oppressive atmosphere was suffocating. With taste like that, how had he ever expected to compete with James Potter?
No girl would go for that.
However, when Warren pushed open the office door and saw the shelves overflowing with ingredients and the rows of potions, it was a different story.
It actually smelled rather pleasant in there. Contrary to what most people assumed, many potion ingredients, when properly prepared, released a unique, pleasant scent.
Most striking were the rows of bottles lined up in the cabinets, glittering in the firelight and filled with crystal-clear potions.
Snape lurked in the corner like a ghost, wearing his usual impassive expression as he watched Warren with cold eyes.
Only when he noticed the look of pure longing on Warren's face did the faintest hint of a smile touch his lips.
It had not been easy, spending two days carefully selecting items from his private stores to fill the newly acquired potions cabinet.
The items had to be valuable, yet not so impressive as to appear ostentatious. They also needed to be educational.
"Professor, your office is a treasure trove," Warren said sincerely.
Snape felt a surge of satisfaction. It reminded him of Friday night, when he had gone to the Headmaster's office to show Dumbledore Warren's improved Cure for Boils.
The look of surprise on Dumbledore's weathered face had been thoroughly enjoyable.
The Savior was nothing special. His supposedly evil classmate, however, was a genuine Slytherin potions prodigy.
Warren Weasley," Snape said slowly. "You will have plenty of time to look around. For now, let me see what is so special about this magical extraction technique of yours."
"Oh? Plenty of time? Professor, does that mean I can come here every weekend?"
Warren, as usual, knew how to zero in on the important part.
Snape did not answer, which was confirmation enough. He stepped aside, revealing a cauldron behind him. Inside, a Cure for Boils was already brewing. Clearly, he intended to observe every step of Warren's process today.
Warren did not mind. He drew his wand and set to work.
For the rest of the evening in that gloomy dungeon, the only sounds were ingredients being prepared, the swish of a stirring rod, and the occasional exchange.
"Hmm. An unusual choice. How do you ensure the magic penetrates evenly?"
"It comes from understanding the ingredients inside and out, Professor. It might also be related to my aptitude for Transfiguration. My magic allows me to easily observe their internal structure. Of course, for an ordinary witch or wizard, plenty of practice would also work. Practice makes perfect."
"Let me try."
"Go ahead."
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