Who Is the Philosopher's Stone Thief?

"Harry, are you done training?" In the common room, Oren was reading Hermione's History of Magic notes.

"I'm done." Harry shook the muddy water off himself. "Bad news: Snape is refereeing this match."

Hermione said, "Don't play."

Ron said, "Say you're sick."

Hermione said, "Pretend you broke your leg."

Ron said, "Actually break your leg."

"Oh, come on." Oren spoke disdainfully. "Look at you two, scared out of your wits. Doesn't Harry have a slowing bracelet? Even if he falls, he'll be fine—unless someone dares fire a spell at Harry in front of the entire school."

"And break his leg? Even if Harry fell from a great height, he probably wouldn't be hurt that badly."

"Besides, the Gryffindor team doesn't have a substitute Seeker. Of course, it's still up to Harry whether he wants to play. Though I do know a thing or two about breaking other people's legs."

Harry...

"I'll play. I'll definitely beat Hufflepuff."

"Good! That's the spirit! Make Hufflepuff eat dust!" Oren said, clapping.

As the day of the match drew closer, Oren practically crushed Hermione in every class involving hands-on work. He was especially outrageous in Transfiguration and Charms, as though he had cheats enabled—he simply hadn't turned them off. Sometimes he could not even be bothered to pretend; he would neither wave his wand nor recite an incantation, and the magic would somehow be completed anyway.

Oren's sudden and overwhelming strength forced the young witch to study twice as hard. Of course, she was still confident that she would win in the final exams. Oren slept through class, after all. She would definitely make him understand just how terrifying a top student with well-rounded development could be.

On the day of the Quidditch match.

"Where have you two been?" Oren paused his conversation with Cho Chang.

Ron said, "Obviously, we went to cheer Harry on."

"Good luck to Harry. I'm a little worried he won't come back," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"The wind howls, the Yi River runs cold; once the hero departs, he shall not return." Cho Chang said playfully. "But why? Why do you think Potter might be in danger?"

"Last time Harry's broom went out of control, Hermione and Ron suspected Snape was behind it," Oren said indifferently.

"And you're not worried about Mr. Potter at all?"

"No need to worry about Harry. Who is he? A dashing young man on a spirited steed, Gryffindor's king of hard landings."

Unable to understand their coded conversation, Hermione clenched her wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Hermione, are you preparing to hit Snape with a spell at any moment?" Oren asked curiously.

The young witch said, "Hmph~"

"The Leg-Locker Curse," Ron said. "If Snape dares touch Harry, I'll use the Leg-Locker Curse on him."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Oren shook his head. "You haven't thought this through. What's the point of locking his legs? I say we should use the Cruci—cough, cough, cough."

"We should use Tarantella. Just imagine it: broad daylight, beneath the open sky, Snape dancing for the entire school."

"I guarantee that old bat would die on the spot."

"Why? That spell isn't that powerful, is it?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Social death."

Hermione...

Ron...

Cho Chang...

"There's no need now." Hermione loosened her grip on her wand. "Headmaster Dumbledore is here."

"Phew." Ron let out a breath. He had already made up his mind to fire a spell if Snape did anything suspicious, but attacking a Head of House still made him nervous.

"Looks like Snape still loves targeting Gryffindor," Cho Chang said with a shrug.

"Normal. This is how it should be. If Snape ever stopped targeting Gryffindor, I'd suspect someone had replaced him with Polyjuice Potion." Oren waved it off.

Cho Chang...

"Hey, hey, hey, jokes aside, Cho Chang, why are you taking apart my hair?"

"Pfft~ Didn't someone say he would get a golden crown to stop me from changing his hairstyle? You don't have a golden crown now, so wouldn't it be a waste not to give you a pretty hairstyle?"

"That thing doesn't suit my temperament." Oren covered his head, trying to escape Cho Chang's clutches.

In the end, Oren still failed to protect his hair. Wearing a fallen-horse bun and looking utterly lifeless, he pointed at Cho Chang. "Something's wrong with you. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. You planned this all along."

Cho Chang did not answer. She merely covered her mouth and giggled.

Several older Ravenclaws nearby who knew Oren could not help shaking their heads, silently mocking their junior's strange hobby while regretting not bringing any recording equipment. Even a Muggle camera would have done.

Several younger Hufflepuffs nearby, meanwhile, looked eager to approach and ask for his contact information.

After struggling for ages without success, Oren could only ask Hermione for help.

"Quick, Hermione. For the sake of our House, lend your brother a hand."

The young witch rolled her eyes and somewhat awkwardly restored Oren's hairstyle.

Amid a burst of cheers.

"Hey, hey, hey, it looks like your friends are fighting Slytherin students. Aren't you going to help?" Cho Chang poked Oren.

Oren rolled his eyes, casually dragged Goyle over, and drew a circle with his hand. "You are not allowed to step outside this circle until they're done fighting. Understand?"

Goyle seemed like he wanted to say something, but Oren tore up a piece of flooring with his bare hand and snapped it into wood chips in front of him. His eyes instantly became clear.

"That's it? You're not going to help?" Cho Chang asked in surprise.

"What help? A two-on-two fight is perfectly fair, okay?"

"We won! Gryffindor won! Harry won!" Hermione jumped up and down on her seat like an excited beaver.

The overjoyed beaver tightly hugged Oren beside her.

Oren, who was still engrossed in the no-holds-barred Gryffindor-versus-Slytherin brawl: ????

Hermione came to her senses a little and looked at Cho Chang behind Oren. There it was again—Cho Chang had that smile on her face again, the same smile Hermione's aunt always wore.

"Hey, hey, hey, how long are you going to keep hugging me?" Oren said impatiently.

The young witch blushed and quickly shoved Oren away, then accused him first. "Why didn't you push me away?"

Oren???

He pried another piece of flooring off the ground and snapped it into several sections in front of Hermione.

"What was I supposed to push you with? Do you want to fly? If I put any strength into it, you'd go flying a long way. Do you understand what it means to fly?"

Hermione...

"And you, young witch, did you read all your books into a troll's stomach? Don't you know to observe proper boundaries?"

"And go eat more when you get back." Oren bared his teeth as he rubbed his chest. "There was no cushioning at all. My ribs hurt from getting poked."

"Pfft, pfft." Cho Chang tried hard to hold back her laughter but failed. Her entire body made strange hissing noises like a leaking high-pressure cylinder.

With a straight face, Oren endured the young witch's tiny fists while calmly helping Ron up and patting him on the shoulder.

"Good job. You didn't disgrace Gryffindor." Oren pulled out a tissue and stuffed it into Ron's hand.

Oren helped Neville up as well. "Very spirited. You won that two-on-two beautifully. This proves that you're a Gryffindor."

Neville, wiping blood from his nose, stood noticeably straighter and looked much more confident.

The young witch, whose ferocious barrage had done less damage than scratching an itch, finally stopped her meaningless physical assault.

Covering her face, she seemed to be whispering something to Cho Chang.

"You there, Crabbe, come over." Oren waved at Goyle.

"Um... I'm Goyle."

"Whatever. Hurry up and drag your young master Malfoy to the hospital wing."

"We'll get House points deducted, won't we?" Neville asked timidly.

"You don't need to worry about it. I've earned quite a few points recently. Today's House point expenses for you two are on young master Black."

"Harry, where did you run off to? Why are you only getting back now?"

"We won! We won!" Ron said excitedly. "I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville didn't let Crabbe off easy either. Malfoy and the others are going to have an unforgettable night in the hospital wing."

"Forget that." Harry was panting. "Find an empty room, quickly. I'll tell you everything."

Oren and Hermione said goodbye to Cho Chang and hurried after Harry into an empty classroom.

Harry told them about what he had seen: Snape seemingly threatening Quirrell.

Harry said, "We might have been right. What Fluffy is guarding is probably the Philosopher's Stone. The little trick Professor Quirrell mentioned might mean that, apart from Fluffy, there are other traps below. To get through, they'd have to be disabled one by one."

Hermione said, "Little tricks? It could also be that Quirrell is the one trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and secretly pulling tricks."

"Enough, stop thinking about it." Oren's lazy voice came from nearby. "It doesn't matter whether Quirrell or Snape is the dog. They're just dogs biting each other."

"Whoever wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone won't do it right under Dumbledore's nose. We don't need to keep watch over the fourth-floor corridor. We only need to keep watch over Dumbledore."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, "but how can we know whether Headmaster Dumbledore will leave?"

Oren spread his hands. "Doesn't matter. The Headmaster will tell me."

The three little ones...

"But I still think Snape wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Ron said.

Over the following weeks, the three little ones kept a close eye on Quirrell, Snape, and Dumbledore.

Every day, they went to the fourth floor to listen to Fluffy's strong, powerful breathing.

Snape was still as irritable as ever. Quirrell, on the other hand, grew thinner and paler by the day.

Oren said he was worn out. Though the three little ones did not understand what that meant, they could tell Quirrell was under tremendous pressure.

Oren and Hermione believed it was because Quirrell could not steal the Philosopher's Stone, while Harry and Ron believed Professor Quirrell's pressure came from Snape, who wanted to steal it.

This disagreement did not make them argue, because no matter what, the thief would definitely go to the fourth-floor corridor on a day when Dumbledore was absent.

"Hermione, the exams are still hundreds of years away. Do we really need to start revising this early?" Ron pleaded bitterly.

"There are only ten weeks left!" Hermione glared at Oren, who was chewing on Rock Cakes. "Oren, you don't want rumors spreading at the end of term that young master Black failed his grades and had to repeat the year, do you?"

Oren!!!