Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?

A Horcrux was a product of dark magic created by the ancient Greek Wizard Herpo the Foul. It could store a fragment of its creator's soul, a bizarre invention Herpo had pioneered in pursuit of immortality.

In China, similar objects had Artifact Spirits. According to legend, the most remarkable of these were conscious "spirits" that arose spontaneously after a magical weapon was forged; another way to create an Artifact Spirit was through human Sacrifice.

—Excerpt from "Herpo's wondrous creations—Horcruxes"

Will recalled the books on dark magic he had read at home. He had practically memorized this one, but since it was a mass-market book bought in Knockturn Alley, it contained no detailed account of how to create a Horcrux, only a basic analysis of them.

Judging by Voldemort's behavior, Will believed Horcruxes affected their creator's thinking and intelligence. After all, they involved splitting the soul.

While Will's thoughts wandered to Horcruxes, Harry had been dragged high into the air above the Quidditch Pitch by his violently shaking broom. Almost everyone's attention was fixed on Harry, but Will's mind was elsewhere. Perhaps he was the only one who knew Dumbledore would never let the Chosen One he was grooming die in such a ridiculous school Quidditch match.

And when Hermione knocked over Quirrell as he muttered his Jinx, Harry's broom gradually settled down. Harry then brought the match to a swift end. Slytherin suffered a crushing defeat, and disgruntled boos rose from their stands. Malfoy and his ilk had even started swearing.

Glad the match had ended so quickly, Will stuffed his book into his book trunk and led a rather glum Sylvia away from the Quidditch Pitch before the others. As they walked, Sylvia kept grumbling, "I can't believe we actually lost to Gryffindor. Slytherin hadn't lost in seven years!"

Will had no such sense of collective pride. He couldn't have cared less about the House Cup.

"If you're feeling down, why don't we take a walk by the Black Lake?" Will suggested.

Will and Sylvia ended up spending the afternoon sitting beside the Black Lake. Will lit a campfire, and they grilled fish over it. There was one minor hiccup: he tried to conjure a small wooden cabin using Transfiguration to block the cold wind, but his skills clearly weren't up to the task. In the end, they put up three earthen walls beneath a tree to shelter themselves.

While the two of them grilled fish beside the Black Lake, four young Wizards were joining forces to torment Hagrid in Hagrid's Hut by the Forbidden Forest—or being tormented by his rock cakes.

Yes, Neville had come to Hagrid's Hut with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

They held their rock cakes helplessly. Harry thought they were far harder than the plates they usually ate from. Sometimes he couldn't help wondering whether Hagrid baked them with actual powdered rock.

"Young Longbottom, you look a lot sturdier than Harry." Hagrid clapped Neville on the back with a palm larger than a palm-leaf fan. Neville felt as though his spine was about to snap.

"That was a close call just now, wasn't it, Harry? What got into your Nimbus? I'll pour you some hot tea to settle your nerves."

Neville rubbed his back. "Hagrid's really strong, isn't he?"

Ron nodded with feeling. He had once received a clap like that himself.

Neville rummaged in his pockets, intending to take Trevor out for some air, but he couldn't find him anywhere. He spread his hands helplessly. "He's escaped again."

"You'd better go find him quickly," Ron warned Neville. "The Forbidden Forest is right next door. If Trevor gets in there, you might never find him again."

Then Neville drew his wand. "Accio Trevor!"

A grayish-black toad rose from beside a patch of grass in Hagrid's yard and flew toward Neville inside the hut.

Ron and Harry looked surprised. They knew Neville had learned the Summoning Charm, but they hadn't realized he could use it so well.

"It's all thanks to Will teaching me the Summoning Charm." Neville caught Trevor and prepared to stuff him back into his pocket.

Far away, grilling fish beside the Black Lake, Will suddenly received a notification.

[Someone felt grateful to you. Charisma Experience +1]

"I really don't know why you'd choose a toad as a pet. I didn't think any young wizard at Hogwarts would bring one." Ron lifted Scabbers by the tail and set him beside a rock cake. Scabbers rolled over, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep, completely ignoring it.

Just then, Hagrid brought the tea to the table and stared at the toad in Neville's hand. "What a cute little fellow. You know, toads are a wizard's best friends."

"Why?" Harry asked. Truthfully, he didn't like toads much either. They were rather hard to stomach. By comparison, his Owl Hedwig was positively adorable.

"Toads can help young Wizards test potions. When they drink a potion containing toxins, they can expel them through their skin without taking too much harm. And depending on the toxins in the potion they drink and how poisonous it is, they can produce potions of different colors." Hagrid delivered this long explanation in one breath. Then, apparently remembering something, he added, "Oh, and Harry, your mother was very fond of toads. She did brilliantly in Potions Class and often used toads to test her potions."

Harry remembered Aunt Petunia's words. "If my damned sister was one, how could you not be? Oh, she got a letter just like that, then disappeared... went off to that school... and every holiday she came home with her pockets full of toad eggs, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a complete freak! But my parents couldn't see it. It was Lily this and Lily that all day long. They were delighted to have a witch in the family!"

He felt uneasy, his expression growing strained, and took a sip of the hot tea Hagrid had poured.

Ron noticed Harry's expression but assumed he was still shaken by what had happened during the Quidditch match. "Don't worry, Harry. We've figured out what happened at Quidditch."

"It was Snape," Ron said, describing the scene to Harry. "Hermione and I saw him. Neville saw him too. He was putting a spell on your Broomstick, muttering away with his eyes fixed on you."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said as he poured their tea. "Why would Snape do something like that?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances, unsure how to tell him. Harry decided to be honest.

"I found something out about him," he told Hagrid. "On Halloween, he tried to get past that big three-headed dog, and it bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever the dog's guarding."

"No, Harry, Snape wasn't injured on Halloween. Remember? He was right behind Professor McGonagall," Hermione corrected him. "It must have happened sometime in the last few days."

Hagrid set the teapot down hard and looked at them in confusion.

"How do you know about three-headed Fluffy?"

"Three-headed Fluffy?"

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek fellow I met in the pub last year—lent him to Dumbledore to guard—" Hagrid let it slip, but quickly realized his mistake.

"What?" Harry asked eagerly.

"That's enough. Stop asking," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, understand?"

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said again. "Snape's a teacher at Hogwarts. He wouldn't do something like that."

"Then why did he try to kill Harry?" Ron shot back loudly. He already hated Snape with a passion, though even he didn't know why.

"I'm telling you, you're wrong!" Hagrid snapped. "I don't know why Harry's Broomstick was acting like that, but Snape would never try to kill a student! Now, you three listen to me—you’re meddling in things that are none of your business. It's dangerous. Forget that big dog, forget what he's guarding. That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"

Clearly, Hagrid wasn't very good at keeping secrets.

"Aha!" Harry said. "So someone called Nicolas Flamel is involved, is he?" Hagrid was furious, angry with himself for failing to keep the secret Dumbledore had entrusted to him.

In the end, the gathering broke up on bad terms. It was the first time Hagrid and Harry had had such a serious clash.

They left Hagrid's Hut. Along the way, Ron kept kicking stones as though they were Snape's head, until he nearly kicked a sharp shard that could have sliced through his boot.

Meanwhile, Hermione kept going over the books she had read, searching her memory for "Nicolas Flamel."

Suddenly, they spotted two figures nearby walking toward the castle. It was Will and Sylvia.

"Will should know." Hermione clapped her hands. "How did I forget to ask him?"

She hurried toward them, calling out to the pair as she went.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron muttered. Ever since Will had taken down the troll on Halloween, he had been reluctant to deal with him.

Partly because he had said plenty of nasty things about Will in front of Harry and Hermione, and partly because Will's Aguamenti had drenched half his body, leaving him laid up in the Hospital Wing for several days.

But right now, figuring out who Nicolas Flamel was mattered most.

"Oh, it's you lot. Need something?" Will and Sylvia had just eaten several grilled fish, and he had even earned two points of Cooking experience. He was in a good mood.

"Do you know Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione asked, getting straight to the point.

Will's answer brought delighted looks to their faces.

"Of course I do."