He Already Knew?

Only the fire crackled in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Then Ron broke the silence with a dreamlike gasp.

"Immortality... and you can make gold..."

"So," Hermione said, her voice sharp with excitement. She spoke rapidly, like a lawyer delivering her closing argument. "That three-headed dog, Fluffy, on the fourth floor wasn't guarding some ordinary secret at all! It was guarding the Magic Stone!"

"Snape!" Harry jerked his head up, a spark in his eyes. "On the day of the Quidditch Match, he tried to sneak in amid the confusion. That's why Fluffy bit his leg! He wanted to steal the Magic Stone!"

"Exactly!" Ron slapped his thigh. "He must've wanted to steal it and use it himself! Or sell it to someone! Blimey, how many Gold Galleons would that be worth?"

"It's not just about money, Ron!" Hermione corrected him sternly. "It's about immortality! Just imagine if a dark wizard like Voldemort got the Magic Stone. It would be a terrible disaster! He'd never be defeated!"

All three of them wore expressions mingling fear, excitement, and a sense of mission: We've uncovered a huge secret. In their eleven-year-old minds, the logic of the whole affair was now perfectly clear and unshakable:

Evil Professor Snape → attempting to steal the Magic Stone → becoming enormously rich or an immortal Dark Lord → Harry Potter and his friends must stop him!

It was a perfect deduction, following every heroic-story template.

"No wonder Snape wants it so badly!" Ron said, suddenly enlightened. "With that, he could be even richer than Dumbledore and live forever!"

"We have to go to the library! We need to find out everything about the Magic Stone!" Hermione immediately slipped into "top student mode," her face alight with the thrill of battle.

Like three agents who'd just uncovered a world-shaking secret, they set off at once, charging toward the temple of knowledge.

Using her astonishing, near-photographic memory, Hermione pinpointed the books about "alchemy," "Nicolas Flamel," and the "Magic Stone" among the library's vast collection.

Then she noticed an extremely strange coincidence.

The copy of Directory of Important Alchemists of the 20th Century she was reading had a very faint crease on its cover, almost impossible to see.

She distinctly remembered seeing Lin Yuan sitting in that very spot more than a month ago, during the week before Halloween, flipping through this book at his own impossibly fast pace.

And in Theory of Equivalent Exchange, there was a little patch of ink staining the corner of one of the pages.

She also remembered Lin Yuan leaving that book on his desk for an entire afternoon.

And... there was also Hermes' Secret, that rare book hidden in the deepest part of the Ancient Runes section, almost entirely ignored by everyone...

Hermione stopped walking.

Her breathing grew rapid.

A daring, almost absurd suspicion flashed through her mind like a bolt of black lightning.

Slowly, almost stiffly, she turned to look at the quiet corner nearby.

Lin Yuan was sitting there.

Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting dappled shadows over him. In his hands was a forbidden book on the "nature of the soul," older and more profound than any of the books she was reading.

He seemed cut off from the world around him, lost in his own universe.

Harry and Ron were still excitedly discussing the scraps of information they'd found.

But Hermione felt all the blood in her body freeze in an instant.

He hadn't been reading at random, with no particular purpose.

Nor had he been passively following clues, the way she was.

He...

Hermione's lips trembled.

A thought rose in her mind, filling her with terror and absolute certainty.

"He... already knew all of this a month ago. He knew about Nicolas Flamel, the Magic Stone, and the secrets hidden in the castle... He knew everything."

"We're like three fools, getting excited over every tiny clue we find. And he... he's been waiting at the finish line all along, watching us calmly, as if we were characters in a play... whose script had been written long ago."

"Who... is he?"

Hermione Granger, the clever and well-read young lioness of Gryffindor, stood rooted to the spot, clutching the book containing the "truth" tightly to her chest.

She looked at the quiet figure in the distance. For the first time, her clever, confident eyes held the deep awe and bewilderment that came from facing the unknown.

Spring arrived at Hogwarts without a sound. The snow along the edge of the Forbidden Forest began to melt, exposing the damp, dark soil, and the air filled with the scent of grass and fresh shoots. As the weather warmed, the mood in the castle grew lighter.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's efforts to keep an eye on Snape weren't going well. Snape was like a slippery snake, his movements secretive, and they could find hardly any useful clues.

That afternoon, they decided to visit Hagrid's Hut and take a break. Perhaps they could get Hagrid to tell them how to deal with Fluffy.

Hermione found Lin Yuan in the library, where he was analyzing the spatial-folding model in Advanced Transfiguration Guide. She looked excited, but a little nervous.

"Ryan," she said in a low voice, her large brown eyes glimmering with some unspoken secret. "We're going to visit Hagrid's Hut. Would you... like to come with us?"

Lin Yuan looked up from Advanced Transfiguration Guide and glanced at Hermione, who seemed a little apprehensive. He nodded.

But when they reached the hut, they found something unusual about it that day.

Even though the weather was already quite warm, Hagrid had drawn all the curtains tightly shut. Thick smoke poured from the chimney, as if a grand barbecue were taking place inside.

"Hagrid?" Harry knocked on the door.

After a long while, the door opened a crack.

Hagrid poked out his huge, shaggy head and warily looked around. Then he hurriedly ushered them inside and slammed the door shut again.

The hut was as hot as a sauna. The fire roared in the hearth, with a large kettle hanging over it.

"What are you doing here?" Hagrid asked, looking nervous as he repeatedly wiped away sweat with his enormous handkerchief.

"We just came to see you," Hermione said, curiously looking around. "Hagrid, why have you got such a big fire going when it's so hot?"

"Er... nothing... just... a bit cold," Hagrid stammered, unable to meet their eyes.

Harry noticed that Hagrid kept glancing toward the hearth.

He followed Hagrid's gaze. There seemed to be something in the middle of the flames. It wasn't firewood, or the kettle. It was a huge, jet-black object, its surface as smooth as a pebble.

"Hagrid, what's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the hearth.

Hagrid's face turned bright red. He stammered for a while, then finally gave in under their curious stares.

"All right... all right... I'll tell you," he said in a low voice, as if revealing a tremendous secret. "But you mustn't tell anyone!"

Carefully, he used a piece of fireproof cloth to lift the black object out of the flames and set it on the table.

It was an egg. A huge, beautiful egg, like black obsidian.

Fine, web-like cracks covered its shell. Deep in every crack, something like molten lava seemed to flow, giving off a dim red glow that flickered on and off.