The thrill of the Invisibility Cloak had yet to fully fade, and Harry and Ron's excitement crackled like the leaping flames in the Gryffindor common room fireplace. Huddled on the old sofa by the hearth, they kept their voices low as they eagerly recounted every detail of what had just happened—especially Lynn's miraculous way of calming Fluffy.
"Merlin's old socks! Lynn, how did you do that?" Ron finally could not hold it in any longer. He turned toward Lynn, who sat in an armchair a little distance away, his eyes filled with pure admiration. "Just like that! Those three heads that could swallow people whole just... just fell asleep? That's more magical than Hagrid's accordion!"
Harry looked over eagerly as well, his green eyes gleaming in the firelight. Tonight's experience had given him an entirely new impression of his quiet classmate.
Lynn was lowering his gaze, rubbing the Star Stone pendant around his neck. It had returned to its usual gentle glow, as though the power it had unleashed moments ago had been nothing more than an illusion. Hearing Ron's question, he looked up, his expression unremarkable. "Coincidence. Probably this." His fingertip tapped the Star Stone. "Together with Hermione's Moon White Stone, it may have produced some kind of... resonance under those stressful circumstances. It calmed Fluffy's emotions." He paused, then added, "I don't know the principle. It might not work next time."
His tone was calm, carrying the indisputable air of someone stating facts, neatly sidestepping the core issue. Hermione sat on a low stool beside Lynn, a copy of Common Magical Creature Behavior Analysis open across her knees, though she had not turned a single page. She keenly caught that trace of deliberate reservation in Lynn's words, but did not press him. The sensation of their tightly clasped hands, the strange, reassuring warmth that had flowed through her when the two stones resonated, had etched itself into her heart more vividly than any explanation could. She merely gave a soft "Mm," her fingers unconsciously brushing the Moon White Stone pendant on her chest as she felt its steady pulse.
"Fine, who cares? We succeeded!" Ron's attention was quickly drawn to a more practical problem. "The question now is how we deal with that huge dog. Hermione, you said music? Will that really work?"
"It absolutely will." Hermione was immediately pulled back to the matter at hand. Leaning forward slightly, she regained her usual certainty. "Hagrid said so himself, and he demonstrated it. Fluffy has no resistance to music. Any soothing melody can make him fall asleep quickly. Ron, is your modified recorder loud enough?"
"No problem!" Ron thumped his chest. "Fred and George added an Amplifying Charm and a Penetrating Charm to it. It'd be loud enough to play rock music on a Quidditch pitch! We can record a lullaby, or... um... a slow Weird Sisters song?"
"A lullaby is safer." Hermione made the final decision. "The melody is simple, and the hypnotic effect is stronger. We'll start preparing tomorrow." She assigned tasks with clear logic. "Harry, find an opportunity to confirm the details of Fluffy's reaction to music with Hagrid. Make it natural. Ron, the recorder adjustments and song selection are up to you. As for what comes after going through the trapdoor..." Her delicate brows furrowed again out of habit as she looked at Lynn. "We need to find out what exactly is down there. Since the professors set up protective measures, Fluffy cannot be the only obstacle."
Lynn nodded. "Quirrell and Snape are the breakthrough. One is responsible for guarding it, and the other has ulterior motives. Both might leave clues."
"Exactly!" Hermione's eyes lit up. "Especially Professor Quirrell! He's so... nervous. Maybe there's something overlooked in his office? Or we could probe indirectly..."
"Investigate Quirrell's office at night." Lynn calmly picked up her train of thought, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. The audacity of the idea made both Harry and Ron suck in a breath.
"Are you mad?" Ron whispered sharply. "That's a professor's office! Ten times more dangerous than the Restricted Section corridor! If we get caught, we'll definitely be expelled!"
"That's why we need the Invisibility Cloak, and more importantly, a plan." Lynn's tone did not ripple, as though they were discussing tomorrow's weather. "The objective is clear: find clues related to the Philosopher's Stone's protective measures or Nicolas Flamel. Don't take anything, only look. Avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris is the first priority. Second, choose a time when Quirrell is likely to be absent."
Hermione's heart raced from nervousness and a hint of secret excitement. It was dangerous, but Lynn's calm steadied her like an anchor. She rapidly searched through what she knew. "Every Wednesday from seven to nine in the evening, Professor Quirrell has special permission from Madam Pince to organize a collection of ancient runic texts in the Restricted Section. His office will be empty then. Tomorrow is Wednesday."
They had their window. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Though they were still uneasy, Lynn and Hermione's composure gave them courage.
"All right." Harry drew a deep breath. "Let's do it! But we have to be extremely careful!"
On Wednesday evening, twilight draped Hogwarts Castle in a veil of gray-blue. At six fifty, four figures squeezed beneath the Invisibility Cloak once more, slipping silently through the increasingly quiet corridors like moving shadows. This time, Hermione and Lynn stood closer together. Every movement in the cramped space, every brush of fabric, every slight touch of an arm made Hermione keenly aware of Lynn's presence and the clean scent around him. The Moon White Stone against her skin sent out waves of steady, reassuring warmth, as though silently echoing the heartbeat of the person beside her.
Quirrell's office was tucked away in a secluded corner on the third floor of the castle. Above its door hung the dried skull of a strangely shaped horned beast, giving off a faint, peculiar smell of herbs mixed with dust. The corridor was empty, with only the faint snores of figures in distant portraits breaking the silence. Lynn pressed his ear to the heavy wooden door for a moment and confirmed there was no sound inside. He took out his wand and murmured at the keyhole, "Alohomora."
With a soft click, the lock sprang open.
Holding their breath, the four of them watched as Harry gently pushed the door open a crack. The room beyond was pitch-black, filled with an even stronger mixture of smells—heavy garlic, which Quirrell claimed he used to ward off the vampires he had encountered in Romania; old parchment; and something indescribable, like moldy herbs. Once they confirmed it was safe, the four slipped inside quickly, and Harry shut the door behind them.
Quirrell's office was cramped and cluttered. The walls were crowded with towering bookshelves crammed with dusty scrolls, rusted instruments, and glass jars containing suspicious liquids or specimens. A huge desk, equally piled with clutter, occupied most of the room. The only light came from a dim oil lamp on the desk. Its oil seemed nearly depleted, and the weak flame flickered unsteadily.
"Split up and search, quickly!" Harry urged in a whisper, his voice kept extremely low. "Be careful not to knock anything over!"
Ron was immediately drawn to a miniature pyramid model on one shelf that rotated on its own, and he cautiously leaned in for a closer look. Harry began quickly sorting through the scattered documents on the desk—mostly student assignments and manuscripts on theories of Defense Against the Dark Arts, written in messy handwriting and heavily crossed out.
Hermione's gaze swept rapidly over the bookshelves, searching for any titles related to the Philosopher's Stone or alchemy. Her fingertips ran across one heavy spine after another: Atlas of Eastern European Vampire Variants, Fundamental Defensive Spell Theory (Revised Edition), Common Phobias in the Wizarding World and Their Treatments... Nothing gave her a lead.
Lynn did not search blindly like the others. He stood in the center of the office, his gaze calmly sweeping through the entire room like the most precise detection spell. Dust motes drifted through the dim light. There was an inconspicuous worn mark along the edge of the desk, as though someone often leaned there. His eyes finally settled on a half-open drawer on the left side of the desk.
He walked over without a sound. The drawer was stuffed with miscellaneous items: several rolls of used bandages carrying a faint, strange medicinal smell, a damp box of matches, a few rusty Bronze Knuts, and... a book pressed beneath everything else, its dark purple hard cover showing.
Lynn carefully pulled it out, taking care not to bring anything else with it. The book was thick, bound in heavily worn dark-purple dragonhide. There was no gilded title, only a small, familiar ink mark in the lower-right corner—a raven holding a scroll in its beak. His pupils contracted slightly. It was Snape's personal mark! He had seen a similar symbol on the door of the Potions professor's office. Opening the title page, he saw a line of familiar, ornate, slightly cutting cursive:
Advanced Potion-Making: Extraordinary Craftsmanship and the Boundaries of Taboo
—By Severus Snape
Private annotated edition
This was Snape's personal Potions work, filled with extensive annotations! It absolutely should not have been in Quirrell's drawer!
Lynn rapidly flipped through the pages. The book carried the cold, distinctive scent of Snape's office—a mixture of potion ingredients and old books. The margins were covered in dense notes written in the same hand as the title page: Snape's handwriting. The material was extremely difficult, involving many advanced and even dangerous potion formulas and theories. Yet what put Lynn on alert was not the knowledge itself, but the deep creases left by repeated turning on several pages, along with trembling, faint pencil marks beside certain passages—marks utterly unlike Snape's handwriting, clearly left by Quirrell.
His sharp eyes swept over the passages Quirrell had marked:
"...For certain Dark Magic parasites with an exceptionally strong dependence on a host, a mixture of moonstone powder and unicorn blood, combined with specific counter-curse gestures, can temporarily suppress their activity. The cost is that the host will suffer intense soul-burning pain..." (Beside it was Quirrell's trembling handwriting: Tried it. Effective but excruciatingly painful. Cannot last.)
"...Devil's Snare's fear of light can be countered by high-intensity light and heat spells, but beware: when stimulated, its constricting strength will multiply..." (Pencil note beside it: Need strong light. Incendio? Lumos Maxima?)
"...When dealing with magical creatures guarding treasure, understanding their central weakness is crucial. Music has a powerful calming and hypnotic effect on certain species with sensitive hearing, such as the three-headed dog Fluffy. This is a significant biological weakness..." (Quirrell had forcefully drawn several circles around the blank space beside this passage.)
Lynn's heart sank. Those markings were as clear as signposts on a map! They pointed directly to the key stages protecting the Philosopher's Stone: suppressing some kind of parasite—most likely the trouble on Quirrell's own back-of-the-head—getting past Devil's Snare, and using music against Fluffy! Quirrell was not merely researching them. He was very likely scouting a path for someone—or for the presence on the back of his head! Snape's book was Quirrell's guidebook!
"Someone's coming!" Ron, who had been anxiously keeping watch through the crack in the door, suddenly let out a strained, high-pitched whisper like a chicken being strangled.
Almost at the same time, footsteps sounded outside in the corridor! They were not Filch's heavy boots, nor Mrs. Norris's light feline tread, but... a dragging, hesitant, slightly nervous sound of leather shoes scraping across the floor! It was accompanied by several muffled coughs—it was Quirrell! He had returned early!
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