Want to know about Nicolas Flamel? Ask someone!

Chapter 45: Want to Know Nicolas Flamel? Ask Someone! Everything Seems Back on Track.

Yet Hermione, Harry, and Ron had gained an extra task.

That was to find Nicolas Flamel.

But trying to locate a completely unfamiliar name in the vast, sea-like library was like trying to reach the heavens.

Hermione, based on her deductions, had drawn up a long list of books.

When Harry and Ron saw that list, pain masks instantly clamped onto their faces.

Yet they dared not utter a single complaint, since Harry had been the one to propose this in the first place.

Brook chose to stay out of it.

He wouldn't join in, nor would he stop them.

He let this "Young Youngsters Detective Squad," lacking Conan, run wild with their antics.

Right now, he was reading Dumbledore's notes while sneakily stuffing Chinese Winter Jujubes into his mouth.

The freshly harvested jujubes were plump and perfectly round.

One bite, and they were crisp and sweet.

He ate one after another, unable to stop.

Hermione sat right next to Brook.

She had been searching for over half a month, yet hadn't found a single clue about Nicolas Flamel.

The "crunch, crunch" sound of Brook eating jujubes kept grating on her nerves.

She felt her blood pressure shooting up.

Hermione couldn't hold it in any longer and hissed in a low voice, "Even if you won't help, can you at least stop making noise here!"

Brook looked at Hermione in surprise.

Was it that time of the month?

Why had her temper turned so explosive?

But at Hermione's age, that seemed a bit too early.

"(⊙o⊙)... You still haven't found anything?"

"Obviously not," Hermione replied curtly.

Brook turned his gaze to Ron, "Ron, are you really pure-blood or not?"

Ron was baffled by the sudden question.

How had the fire suddenly spread to him?

He was pure-blood, yes.

But did being pure-blood mean he had to know everyone?

Who had he offended?

He pouted aggrievedly, "I am!"

"Then just ask your dad, wouldn't that solve it?" Brook said matter-of-factly.

Since Nicolas Flamel could be connected to Dumbledore, he definitely wasn't a nobody.

Mr. Weasley, as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, likely knew.

"No way! What if he finds out?" Ron worried.

Brook nearly rolled his eyes, "Is that thing top secret? Is this matter top secret? You're just asking for a name—what could Mr. Weasley possibly discover?"

Hermione, Harry, and Ron suddenly felt terrible.

What he said made so much sense they couldn't argue.

"Even in the worst case," Brook continued.

"Mr. Weasley might guess. But the little wizards at Hogwarts won't know, right? Percy, the twins—just ask them, it's fine. What if they do know."

Ron felt even worse this time.

Having him ask his three older brothers was worse than asking his dad.

Hermione, like a spring-loaded trap, suddenly lunged up, grabbed Brook by the neck, and shook him hard.

"Why didn't you say so earlier, why didn't you say so earlier?"

Brook just grinned happily; Hermione wasn't using any real force, "Earlier, you didn't ask me either!"

In the end, the four of them were successfully kicked out of the library by Madam Pince.

Well, that made it easier for Brook to eat his jujubes.

"You two head back to the common room. I'll go find the twins and Percy."

Hermione worried Ron might let something slip, so she decided to ask herself.

Before Brook could react, she had already dashed off in a flurry.

Brook seriously doubted whether she could find anyone smoothly.

Sure enough, by the time Brook and the others returned to the common room—

Searching by book title won't work, try searching by author—maybe it just got renamed!

—they spotted the twins chatting with friends.

Meanwhile, Percy was in a corner, talking to a younger student.

Hermione, as expected, hadn't found a single one.

"You two, wait for me." Brook walked straight toward the twins.

"Boss, you're here."

The twins immediately stood and bowed respectfully when they saw Brook.

The exaggerated gestures made Brook reasonably certain they'd learned them from the House Elf.

The surrounding students also shot them puzzled looks.

Brook sighed helplessly at the twins. "Can you just call me Brook?"

The twins: →→←←

"Sure thing, Boss."

Brook: ╮(￣⊿￣)╭

"Do you know Nicolas Flamel?" Brook cut straight to the point.

He didn't care at all whether the nearby students overheard.

Fred spoke first. "Of course! He's the greatest alchemist ever, one of our idols."

"A lot of the joke items we develop use alchemy. We've learned more from Nicolas Flamel than from the professors," George explained.

Brook's mind settled at that.

In any field, someone who reaches master level is bound to leave a mark in history.

And with the keyword "alchemy master," it was much easier to search.

"If you say that, Professor McGonagall will be heartbroken."

George glanced around nervously, as if afraid Professor McGonagall might suddenly appear before them.

Then he slipped back into his usual grin. "Did I just say something? Boss, you must be hearing things."

Fred asked curiously, "By the way, why are you asking about Nicolas Flamel?"

"I've recently found alchemical items pretty interesting. And since Hagrid's... well, you know. I thought I might collect a few pieces, saw Nicolas Flamel's name, and figured I'd ask you guys."

Brook made up a casual excuse.

Fred frowned. "His stuff isn't easy to buy. He hasn't produced anything in years."

"He's over six hundred years old, retired for more than four hundred," George added.

"Over six hundred?" Brook was startled.

The average wizard lifespan was two hundred years, with a few reaching two hundred fifty.

This Nicolas Flamel had lived over six hundred.

There had to be something special.

"You didn't know? He's the only maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

"The Philosopher's Stone can turn any metal into pure gold and produce the Elixir of Life, making you immortal."

The twins spoke in unison again. "It's the most desirable thing in the world."

"That amazing?" Brook was genuinely impressed.

Since ancient times, extending life had been an eternal pursuit for most people.

He guessed that what Fluffy was guarding was the Philosopher's Stone.

Brook chatted a bit more with the twins about alchemy, then waved goodbye.

His knowledge of alchemy barely went beyond hearsay.

As for having any real interest—far from it.

The only reason he'd rambled on with the twins was to make his lie more believable and avoid raising suspicion.

He walked over to the small table where Harry and Ron were sitting. "You heard all that."

"Won't that raise suspicion?" Harry asked, a little worried.

"Relax. Some things, the more openly you say them, the less people care."

"So that means Sna—someone wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry remembered Brook didn't agree with his guess, so he rephrased.

"Don't mind me, Harry—say whatever you want. This is a matter for the 'Young Youngsters Detective Squad.'"

Brook waved a hand.

Ron scratched his head in confusion. "Young Youngsters Detective Squad?"

"Oh, I came up with that name for your team. Short for YYDS," Brook explained with a smile.

Harry nodded.

Not a bad name, especially the abbreviation—it sounded pretty imposing.