Nicolas Flamel

"Deprimo Profundis" was the incantation for the Deprimo Profundis, an improved version developed by Hogwarts' Duelling Club in 1832.

At the time, this so-called modern Levitation Charm was widely used because it was simple and easy to cast. It was even abused as a tool for playing pranks.

A certain Ravenclaw headmistress had reverse-engineered the spell and discovered that "making an object rise" and "making it fall" were essentially different waveforms of the same set of gravity-interference instructions.

It was said that when she wrote the derivation of this "deep-fall spell" on parchment, the ink suddenly seeped straight down into the grain of the wooden desk, until the floor on the third story cracked.

The specific wand movement for the spell was the opposite of the light, upward motion used for the Levitation Charm. The Falling Charm required a downward chop of the wrist, as though slamming an invisible sledgehammer into the target's center of mass.

Its effect was to make the struck object's mass increase exponentially for a short time, while its volume remained unchanged—a feather could crack a wooden floor like a spiderweb, and a book could bend a bookshelf.

If the spell was cast on an object affected by the Levitation Charm, the two forces would briefly hold it motionless in midair, after which it would plummet downward at twice the speed.

The Wizarding World was still debating whether the spell ought to be classified as Dark Magic.

The Troll looked up in confusion, its little head comically small atop its nine-foot frame. The next second, its heavy weapon whistled through the air and slammed into its own bald head.

Thud!

The Troll swayed a few times, then crashed to the ground, making the floor tremble.

Harry and Ron stared at the scene, dumbfounded, completely at a loss as to why Ron's spell had suddenly become so effective. Hermione crawled out of the stall, her face pale and her whole body trembling, but she still looked around.

"Stop looking! Come on!" Harry pulled Hermione to her feet.

The three stumbled out of the corridor, running straight into Professor McGonagall and the others, who had hurried over after hearing the commotion. Yulian, meanwhile, had already slipped into the darkness on the other side and quietly made his exit.

He knew Quirrell's plan had failed that night. The Philosopher's Stone was safe, and the stone slab's seal had not been disturbed. And he himself, in a corner where no one knew, had become... a watcher?

He took one last look at his friends being sternly reprimanded by the professors, yet otherwise unharmed, and smiled with quiet relief.

The next morning, the air in Hogwarts' Great Hall was filled, as usual, with the aroma of toast, smoked bacon, and butter.

But even stronger than the scent of food today was the buzz of conversation. The story of Harry, Ron, and Hermione bravely facing the Troll had spread through the entire castle overnight, as if someone had cast a spell to carry their voices.

"Have you heard? Three first-years from Gryffindor took down a Troll!" At the Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbott's eyes widened in amazement. "Ron used the Levitation Charm to lift the Troll's club and then knocked it out!"

"And Hermione!" added Justin Finch-Fletchley beside her. "She was trapped in the girls' bathroom, but she didn't panic. She even coached Ron through the spell!"

The Gryffindor table was even more jubilant. Percy Weasley stood up straight, "recounting" his younger brother's "heroic deeds" in detail to the students around him, his face beaming with pride.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were surrounded by students from every year, receiving praise until their cheeks flushed.

"Headmaster Dumbledore awarded Gryffindor thirty points himself!" a Gryffindor upper-year shouted. "We've closed the gap with Slytherin by a lot!"

Amid the cheering, the Slytherin table was the only one in silence. Draco Malfoy scowled, gripping his silver knife and fork so tightly they creaked. He glared at Harry, surrounded by admirers, his jealousy practically spilling from his eyes.

"It was nothing but dumb luck!" he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, his tone venomous. "A Mudblood, a poor Weasley, and a so-called Savior—how do they deserve points?"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded repeatedly, but didn't dare agree too loudly. After all, the commotion caused by the Troll the night before had barely died down, and they didn't have the nerve to openly question the headmaster's decision.

In a corner of the Ravenclaw table, Edgar Finch pushed up his glasses and shot a suspicious glance at Yulian, who was leisurely cutting up his sausage. "Tell me, Yulian, did you really go to the girls' bathroom last night?"

Kayson Moretti leaned in too, looking curious. "Yeah! And... Ron can't even keep a feather steady most of the time. How could he possibly lift a Troll's club just like that?"

Yulian looked up and smiled innocently. "Maybe he rose to the occasion in an emergency? As for me..." He shrugged. "I probably took a wrong turn, then followed the crowd back to the dormitory. You just didn't see me."

Edgar was about to press him further, but Kayson tugged at his sleeve. "Forget it," Kayson said in a low voice. "Maybe he really did have an upset stomach! But speaking of which, Gryffindor sure got lucky. Thirty points!"

Yulian smiled and said no more. He knew his roommates' suspicions weren't baseless, but some things were better left unsaid.

After the Troll incident, Harry, Ron, and Hermione became exceptionally close. Their earlier squabbles vanished in the face of their shared brush with death, and the three were practically inseparable.

But they often gathered in a corner of the Gryffindor common room or a secluded part of the library, discussing something in low voices, their eyes full of mystery.

Yulian would occasionally catch sight of them huddled together, whispering over a crumpled piece of paper or murmuring over a thick old book. He knew they must be puzzling over the three-headed dog guarding the restricted area on the fourth floor, and what secret lay hidden behind it.

One afternoon, after History of Magic, Yulian was strolling along the path beside the Black Lake on his way back to Ravenclaw Tower when he spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the distance. Heads down, they hurried toward Hagrid's Hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, looking eager, as if they had something important to ask.

"Looks like they couldn't resist going to ask Hagrid after all." Yulian stopped and watched their backs disappear through the hut's doorway as he murmured to himself. Knowing Hagrid's nature, he would probably let slip more clues about the three-headed dog and the Philosopher's Stone without meaning to.

Sure enough, after they returned from Hagrid's, the three began researching even more often. They spent longer and longer in the library, scouring books on Magical Creatures, ancient treasures, and modern masters of magic.

That evening, Yulian was in the library consulting a book about astral magic when Hermione quietly approached him, looking hesitant. "Yulian, have you... have you heard of Nicolas Flamel?"

Yulian looked up and blinked in feigned surprise. "Nicolas Flamel? Sure."

"What? You know about him? You're not joking?!" Hermione was genuinely stunned.

"Doesn't everyone?" Yulian said, pointing to the Chocolate Frog wrapper in his pocket. "He's on the Chocolate Frog Card, isn't he? He was the greatest alchemist, invented the Philosopher's Stone, and lived for several hundred years."

Hermione's face lit up with sudden realization. "Right! The Chocolate Frog Card! How did I not think of that?" She hurriedly thanked him, then ran over to Harry and Ron, who were waiting nearby. The three immediately huddled together to talk in hushed voices.

Yulian watched them, a faint smile playing on his lips. He knew the truth about the Philosopher's Stone was gradually coming to light for them, but that was the course of fate. There was no need for him to interfere too much.