Prearranged Champion

Skylar looked somewhat displeased as he regarded Nicolas Flamel. "Sir, I respect you as an outstanding alchemist with many remarkable achievements and countless contributions to the wizarding world. But please do not make eloquent excuses for our headmaster. What possible justification could there be for what he did?"

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"He was merely worried that I might be a follower of the Mysterious Man, or that I might become the next generation's Dark Lord. In the end, in the headmaster's eyes, he had long forgotten that I was his student. Or perhaps, more accurately, he had never trusted any student at Hogwarts to begin with—I would wager this was far from the first time he had used Legilimency on a student!"

Skylar showed no restraint, viciously tearing away the hypocritical veil and exposing the ugliness of the adult world that J.K. Rowling had glossed over in the original work. His words were not baseless; more than once, the original story had implied that Dumbledore used Legilimency on Harry Potter.

A trace of apology appeared on Dumbledore's face. "My child, I bear you no ill will... If what I did just now made you uncomfortable, I am willing to apologize for it."

Skylar's expression eased slightly. Honestly, although he had already resolved to rely on his own strength to face the turbulent times ahead, he also understood that making an enemy of Dumbledore—the pillar of Britain's wizarding world—was hardly a wise move at this point.

He snorted coldly and said evenly, "I hope you will learn from past mistakes, Professor. I once heard the elders of my family speak of the Mysterious Man's early years. Apparently, you were the one who admitted him into Hogwarts—you kept talking about love, yet you forced him to repent with a burning wardrobe. The outcome was obvious. When you were stronger than him, you could threaten him into submission. But one day, when he became stronger than you, would he not simply follow your example and repay tooth for tooth?"

Disbelief flashed across both Dumbledore's and Nicolas Flamel's faces. Those old events were nearly secrets shared by only a handful of people from that era. The fact that Skylar knew them so clearly meant that the intelligence network hidden behind him far exceeded what Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel had anticipated.

"Let's not discuss that anymore. Let us discuss the ownership of the Sorcerer's Stone instead! I, Skylar, am not a greedy person. I have not the slightest desire for the immortality or transmutation of gold brought by the Sorcerer's Stone. I lack neither wealth nor money, and I have no wish to live long enough to watch my family and friends die one by one. I only wish to borrow the Sorcerer's Stone from you for three months for research. I hope this research will take my alchemy to the next level. And if Mr. Flamel is willing to guide me in alchemy, that would be even better—I have heard that Mr. Flamel has yet to find an heir for his alchemy. If all your knowledge and skill were lost with you, it would be an enormous loss to the entire wizarding world!"

Dumbledore seemed somewhat displeased that Skylar had firmly controlled the initiative in the conversation, and he interjected, "Skylar, perhaps you do not know that alchemy emphasizes equivalent exchange. To obtain something, one must offer something of equal value..."

Skylar sneered. "Respected Headmaster, it seems you have forgotten. I have already paid with a House Cup—do not rush to deny it. No matter how far Slytherin had been ahead of Gryffindor in this year's House Cup, you had intended to let Gryffindor win it. The greater the lead, the more points you would award at the end-of-year feast. Am I right?"

Dumbledore looked a little embarrassed, but he still smiled. "Perhaps the points I awarded—how shall I put it—were somewhat overly generous. But they were also a reward for Harry and the others' outstanding performance. You cannot deny Harry's courage in daring to face Voldemort as a first-year student, can you?"

Skylar gave a disdainful click of his tongue. "So what? The House Cup winner had long been decided by you. Do not be so quick to deny it. The moment I discovered that the trials set by the professors in the forbidden corridor were only difficult enough for first-year students to solve, I had already confirmed my suspicions."

"What suspicions?" Dumbledore asked with interest.

"The obstacles arranged by the professors were not meant to stop the Dark Lord, but the students!" Skylar spoke confidently. "To prevent the Dark Lord from getting the Sorcerer's Stone, a single Mirror of Erised would have been enough. The Dark Lord could not obtain the stone from the mirror because he could not desire it without wanting to use it. He could only rely on someone else to take it from the mirror. Therefore, Professor, you needed to ensure that this person could retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone, yet would not easily hand it over to the Dark Lord. In all of Hogwarts, the only one capable of doing that was Harry. Because he carried the Sacrificial Protection his mother had cast at the cost of her life, correct?"

Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel exchanged a glance. Faced with the sharp yet well-reasoned words of this eleven-year-old boy, they found themselves in the awkward position of having nothing to say.

"Your entire plan revolved around this point. You needed to ensure that Harry alone could reach the Mirror of Erised. The Three-headed Dog possessed tremendous fighting strength, and aside from Hagrid, no one knew how to deal with it. And the only person close enough to Hagrid to pry from him the method for subduing Fluffy was Harry. Besides, Hermione told me that Hagrid gave Harry a flute for Christmas. Hagrid was one of the people you trusted most, Professor. He had acted without a single mistake for more than ten years, yet someone so easily tricked him into revealing how to deal with Fluffy. The truth was so obvious that I could smell the stench of conspiracy from ten miles away."

"It does indeed sound quite obvious," Dumbledore sighed. He had no choice but to admit that Skylar's meticulous and precise reasoning had convinced him.

"The Dark Lord knew it was a trap, but he had no choice but to take the bait!" Skylar continued. "Most students would never enter that corridor. Even if someone wished to explore it, they would not be able to pass Fluffy. The only ones who could make it through were Harry and his friends. Then you arranged the Flying Keys, Wizard's Chess, and logical reasoning trials precisely according to the respective strengths and traits of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. If I am not mistaken, Ron must have collapsed at the chessboard trial, while Hermione turned back at the potion trial and took Ron to Madam Pomfrey, leaving Harry alone to pass through the flames and face the Dark Lord by himself."

Dumbledore could only nod. "You are correct. Ron and Hermione did indeed turn back just as you said."

"Then, respected Headmaster, have I not proven that this year's House Cup had long been prearranged for the famous Savior, Harry Potter? No matter how hard the students of the other three houses worked, no matter how outstanding they were, it was useless. Because under your special care, Savior Harry Potter was destined to turn all the efforts, sacrifices, sweat, and blood of every other student into a ridiculous empty joke!"

The three of them fell into an awkward silence. Nicolas Flamel pretended to look elsewhere—he did not want to see his old friend in such an embarrassed state. Dumbledore's expression shifted repeatedly before finally becoming a quiet sigh. He decided to break the silence.

"You resemble someone very much," Dumbledore said softly. "You are even more outstanding than he was." Having said that, Dumbledore seemed to have all his strength drained away. He sat down in his chair, as though he had suddenly aged several years.

Seeing that he had provoked the headmaster enough, Skylar knew it was time to stop while he was ahead. "To be fair, everything you have done has been for the stability and peace of the wizarding world—"

"On that point, I can fully understand you, and I even hold you in respect. But while I can understand you, I cannot accept your methods. To maintain the world's stability, to nip any threat in the bud, to keep the situation firmly under your control forever, you freely invade others' privacy, deprive students of their right to earn honor fairly, and I do not doubt that, when necessary, you would have the resolve to sacrifice anyone—all for the sake of... the Greater Good!"

Nicolas Flamel smiled, a satisfied smile. He said, "Now I believe that you truly sought the Sorcerer's Stone for the sake of studying alchemy. With the character, talent, and wisdom you have displayed, I genuinely believe that neither immortality nor transmuting gold could tempt you. You are far more outstanding than I was in my youth—not merely in talent, but also in vision and wisdom. To tell you the truth, I had never intended to take the Sorcerer's Stone back from you in the first place—"

"In fact, Dumbledore and I agreed long ago that we would destroy the Sorcerer's Stone. I have lived long enough. It is time to say goodbye to the world. I know that to someone as young as you, this may seem somewhat unbelievable. But for Perenelle and me, death is truly like finally going to bed to rest after a long day. You see, the Sorcerer's Stone is not actually such a wonderful thing. With it, no matter how much wealth you want or how long a life you desire, your wishes can be fulfilled! Those are the two things humans desire most—but humans always seem to choose the things that are worst for them."

Nicolas Flamel took a thick notebook with a Phoenix on its cover from his robes. As he handed it to Skylar, he said, "Young Skylar, perhaps you are right. Dumbledore's and my methods are no longer suited to this era. To make up for our mistakes, and in the spirit of equivalent exchange, please accept this notebook—"

"I call it Flamel's Notebook. It contains many of my notes and insights on alchemy from my younger days. The page in the very middle has also been enchanted with a Protean Charm and possesses a function similar to a Two-Way Mirror. It will allow you to find me through this book at any time. If you have any questions about its contents, please do not hesitate to ask me. I would be more than willing to pass on all my knowledge and skills to such an outstanding young man as you."

[Flamel's Notebook acquired!]

"Well then, gentlemen, I believe it is time for me to leave. Perenelle is still waiting for me in Diagon Alley." Nicolas Flamel gave a mischievous wink. "I have stored enough Elixir of Life for two years. I hope that will be enough time for you to master my alchemy before I die." With that, Nicolas Flamel rose to his feet, straightened his robes, and stepped into the fire.

The day of departure soon arrived. The dormitories were emptied, and everyone packed their luggage in large bundles. The Hogwarts Express was already waiting at the platform.

Skylar sat in a compartment with Daphne and Meredith, chatting about their various plans for the summer holiday. But time was always limited, and before long, the train arrived at King's Cross Station. The platform was crowded with parents who had come to welcome their children home.

Skylar spotted Lucius and Narcissa standing among the crowd. After saying goodbye to the two girls, he was about to get up and find Draco in the next compartment when Daphne suddenly pounced on him, wrapped him in a fierce hug, and planted a hard kiss on his right cheek. Then, after tossing out, "Remember to write to me during the summer holiday," she hurriedly ran away.

Skylar stood there in a daze, awkwardly meeting the eyes of Meredith, whose face had flushed red. He stammered, "Da-Daphne, she..."

Before he could finish, Meredith proved even bolder than Daphne. She seemed to stumble forward, and when Skylar instinctively reached out to catch her, she pressed her warm body against his. Her arms, pale and supple as jade, wound around his neck. Skylar felt her boneless hands firmly cradle the back of his head, and then her crimson, tender lips suddenly pressed against his. His mind seemed to be struck by lightning, leaving his thoughts completely blank...

It seemed like a long time had passed, yet it also seemed like only an instant. Two loud knocks on the door exploded like thunder, jolting the two of them awake from their daze. Meredith somehow found the strength to shove Skylar away. He could still see the blush covering her face and the hazy allure in her eyes. Meredith seemed to have lost the courage to speak, and could only stammer, "R-remember to w-write... write to me during the summer..." Then she shoved open the compartment door and ran off without looking back.

Draco stood dumbly in the corridor outside the compartment, looking impatient. "Hurry up! Skylar, I saw Mum and Dad. Do not keep them waiting too long."