Hagrid: I'm so stupid

In the sky, Harry gripped his broom tightly, his heart pounding wildly.

The Golden Snitch was right in front of him, its wings fluttering rapidly, darting up and down.

Slytherin's Seeker had spotted the Snitch too, charging in from the other direction.

Harry dove sharply, arm stretched forward.

The Golden Snitch was at his fingertips—he could feel its faint vibrations.

"Got it!"

Harry raised his right hand high, the Golden Snitch struggling in his palm.

The stands erupted in deafening cheers; Gryffindor students were jumping wildly.

"Gryffindor wins!" Lee Jordan's voice was hoarse.

Even as the announcer, being a Gryffindor himself, he felt a share of the glory.

"Final score: Gryffindor 210, Slytherin 60!"

"Slytherin, get good or get lost!"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry, sorry, Professor McGonagall, I got carried away."

Charlie was clapping excitedly too—it felt just like the first time he'd ever watched a match.

The electric atmosphere swept everyone up.

After the game, Harry found the others; they'd agreed earlier to celebrate at Hagrid's hut.

Charlie hadn't planned to go, but then he remembered Harry mentioning that the thing on the Fourth Floor was something Hagrid had picked up from Gringotts.

He could use this chance to pry some info out of Hagrid.

That blasted Three-headed dog wasn't giving him any openings, so he'd try another angle.

So he joined them, heading cheerfully toward Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid's hut was warm as spring, the fire blazing in the hearth.

Hagrid poured hot tea for everyone and brought out his homemade Rock cakes.

Charlie looked at the biscuits hard enough to kill a man and quietly pulled his hand back.

"Harry, you were brilliant today!" Hagrid said excitedly, his beard trembling.

"That move catching the Golden Snitch—just like your father!"

Harry scratched his head sheepishly.

"Actually, something went wrong—my broom suddenly went out of control."

"What?" Hagrid's eyes went wide.

He hadn't noticed anything off; he thought Harry was just showing off.

Ron said indignantly:

"It must have been that git Malfoy putting a curse on it."

"He threatened Harry before."

Hagrid's beard bristled with anger.

"What a nasty piece of work. Daring to pull a dirty trick during a match!"

Hermione frowned, thinking.

"I think we should tell a professor—this kind of thing is too dangerous."

Harry nodded in agreement.

As everyone fumed, Charlie suddenly leaned close to Harry and lowered his voice.

"Harry, you said that thing on the Fourth Floor was something Hagrid took out of Gringotts, right?"

Harry paused, then nodded.

A glint of cunning flashed in Charlie's eyes.

"Hagrid's right here—let's pump him for information."

"That doesn't feel right," Harry hesitated.

"Hagrid's been so good to us..."

Before he could finish, Harry turned and asked directly:

"Hagrid, what's the Three-headed dog on the Fourth Floor guarding?"

Hagrid nearly dropped his teacup.

"How do you lot know about Fluffy?"

His eyes went wide, his face full of shock.

"Fluffy?" Ron repeated curiously.

"That's what I named him," Hagrid said, a bit nervous.

"I bought him off a Greek fella, raised him from a pup, I'm like a mother to him."

"Let's just talk about what's bein' guarded."

Hagrid grew nervous again.

"Don't you go messin' with what he's guardin', forget about it."

"That's Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel's..."

Mid-sentence, Hagrid suddenly realized he'd let it slip.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes full of regret.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances, none of them knowing who Nicolas Flamel was.

But Charlie's eyes lit up.

"Nicolas Flamel?"

Charlie pulled a Chocolate Frog card from his pocket.

It was one he'd scratched off on the Hogwarts Express.

The card had Dumbledore's portrait on it, with text below.

"'Made outstanding achievements in alchemy with partner Nicolas Flamel, jointly created the Philosopher's Stone.'"

Charlie read the card's description aloud, his voice trailing off.

Hagrid's face went paler and paler, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"What's the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked.

"Don't ask, Harry, don't ask." Hagrid wore a pained expression.

Hermione piled on.

"I read about it in a book. The Philosopher's Stone holds infinite magic power and can make you immortal!"

"Immortal?" Ron gasped.

"Then what's down there isn't the Philosopher's Stone, is it?"

As Ron finished, everyone's eyes locked onto Hagrid.

Hagrid's reaction was the best answer.

He waved his hands frantically, stammering.

"No, no, you're thinkin' too much."

"How could it be the Philosopher's Stone, hahaha..."

Hagrid's laugh was uglier than crying, his flustered look obvious even to a kid.

"Oh my," Hermione said, covering her mouth.

"It really is the Philosopher's Stone."

"The Philosopher's Stone that makes you immortal," Harry muttered.

"No wonder there's so much protection."

Hagrid was completely deflated, plopping down into a chair.

"I'm such an idiot!"

Ever since he'd pried the info out, Charlie didn't care much about what was under the Fourth Floor anymore.

The post-curiosity zen was just like that.

Sure, the Philosopher's Stone sounded impressive, but it wasn't useful to Charlie right now. He had a system—was immortality really that hard?

[Your Majesty, don't brag and drag me into it.]

Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Junk system."

Anyway, with Dumbledore guarding the thing, a First Year Wizard like him shouldn't even think about it.

Harry had also told Professor McGonagall about the curse.

Professor McGonagall called Malfoy in for a chat, confirmed he hadn't cast the curse or ordered anyone to, and the matter fizzled out.

Time quickly rolled around to just before Christmas. School was about to let out.

Most students were getting ready to go home for the holidays, and the whole of Hogwarts was buzzing with the relaxed atmosphere of an upcoming break.

Charlie was packing his bags in the dormitory, planning to head back to the Orphanage and enjoy a leisurely vacation.

It's been nearly half a year since I last saw Grandma White—I kind of miss her.

Just then, Billy suddenly appeared, startling Ernie, who was in the middle of packing.

"Mr. White, Professor Flitwick is looking for you," Billy said respectfully.

Charlie put down the clothes in his hands. "Right now?"

"Yes, sir. The professor is waiting in his office."

Charlie had a guess—could the magic-resistant vest be finished?

His heart stirred with excitement.

"Got it. I'll be right there."

Arriving at Professor Flitwick's office, Charlie knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, Charlie saw Professor Flitwick sitting behind his desk, a mysterious smile on his face.

"Mr. White, please have a seat."

Professor Flitwick gestured to the chair across from him.

Once Charlie was seated, Professor Flitwick gave his wand a flick, and the desk drawer slid open on its own.

A cake hopped out and bounced over to Charlie.

"Try this cake—it's a new purchase from Hogsmeade," Professor Flitwick said with a smile.

Hogsmeade was the largest Wizard settlement in Britain, and students couldn't apply to visit until their third year, so Charlie had never been.

Charlie took a bite of the cake. It was delicious, but his mind was on the magic-resistant vest, so he took the initiative to ask:

"Professor, has Griphook finished it already?"

Professor Flitwick chuckled.

"That's right. What you asked for is complete."

The ratty author is going straight for ten thousand words today, aiming to keep you readers satisfied.

But starting tomorrow, it's the verification period—different traffic pools need testing, so only four thousand words a day.

Let the ten thousand take a little breather, and I'll hit it again when the debut rolls around.