The Philosopher's Stone in hand

Holy shit!

Loot drop!

Ancient magic!

She had never expected to stumble across a lead on the ancient magic she had spent an entire term searching for here-and successfully record one!

Sacrifice... Reading the Spellbook's description, Hermione could roughly guess what had happened.

She knew Harry carried the magic his mother Lily had left him, called "Love," while Voldemort himself had yet to figure it out. That was why she had been absolutely confident she could finish Voldemort off on the spot.

With the protection of "Love," no harm originating from Voldemort could kill Harry before he came of age. Instead, it would inflict a severe backlash on Voldemort.

A weapon tailor-made to counter Voldy.

Still, it really was ancient magic... Hermione thought.

Hermione had formed her own suspicions about this magic called "Love" long ago.

Dumbledore had told Harry it was magic called "Love" simply to make it easier for Harry to understand and to comfort him. In essence, it was a form of ancient magic.

On the night Voldemort came to kill Harry, Lily's overwhelming desire to protect him had triggered "Sacrifice," which had reflected the Killing Curse.

Hermione was certain Lily must have encountered ancient magic in her younger years. Otherwise, the world had never lacked people willing to sacrifice themselves for love, yet none of them had triggered any protection called "Love."

But this magic's effect... was completely useless to her!

Who the hell would willingly use this thing?

I wanted ancient magic, not drop-dead magic!

Still, however she looked at it, today had been a good start.

Glancing at the unconscious Harry, Hermione stepped forward and picked up the Philosopher's Stone.

As expected, the Spellbook reacted again.

[Curiosities]

[Philosopher's Stone: Alchemical substance]

[Functions: Can produce the Elixir of Life through alchemy, transmute any metal into pure gold, and substitute for the vast majority of alchemical materials.]

The Elixir of Life needed no explanation. Nicolas Flamel had used it to stay alive until now, and he was already several hundred years old.

But it only prolonged life; it did not grant eternal youth or immortality, nor did it make "even Four-Egg fear me." Just look at how old Nicolas Flamel had become!

At Hermione's current stage, she was still a long way from needing it.

As for transmuting things into pure gold, it had no obvious use beyond making gold prices crash.

Was she supposed to turn Captain America's Vibranium Shield into a pure gold shield?

What delighted Hermione was the third function: substituting for alchemical materials.

The Philosopher's Stone was practically a universal substance. In alchemy, it could replace almost any material.

For instance, Hermione now knew how to make an Invisibility Cloak, but without the necessary materials, all she could do was stare at the book and sigh.

With the Philosopher's Stone, however, she could directly substitute it for certain crucial or rare materials. Although that would consume a small portion of the Stone's energy, it would make producing the final item vastly easier and spare her the worry of finding materials.

This thing was practically tailor-made for alchemists!

No wonder Nicolas Flamel had become the greatest alchemist after creating it. His own talent certainly deserved credit, but the Philosopher's Stone's assistance had been even more crucial.

Just as she put the Philosopher's Stone into the book and prepared to leave, a familiar voice came from beside her.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

The voice was calm and composed, with a magic that put people at ease.

Hermione was not surprised to see Dumbledore suddenly appear.

She had long suspected that Dumbledore knew everything about the entire Philosopher's Stone affair.

From the very beginning, when he had taken the Philosopher's Stone out of Gringotts ahead of time, he must have known someone intended to steal it. Otherwise, it simply made no sense.

Then he had set up that obviously childish obstacle course at Hogwarts, all to lure someone into his trap.

Otherwise, he could have either carried it himself or destroyed it. Wouldn't either option have been safer than leaving it here?

Even if he had not initially known something was wrong with Quirrell, Snape must have told him after the troll incident.

Besides, Hermione did not believe Voldemort, in his current state, was capable of hiding right under Dumbledore's nose for so long.

The reason he had not immediately apprehended Quirrell, and had even pretended to be away, was first to provoke the other side into acting, and second to nurture and train Harry, the child of prophecy.

The whole elaborate setup had been cooked up just for Harry.

And things had turned out exactly as he expected. Harry had resisted the Philosopher's Stone's temptation. He wanted the Stone, but not to use it-only to stop Old Voldy.

But... Harry resisted it. I didn't!

If she had not been unable to get it out herself, and if she had not needed Harry up front to take the blame and serve as a Voldemort-specific weapon, she would have rolled up her sleeves and done it herself long ago.

"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Hermione greeted him with impeccable courtesy, a faint smile on her face.

Dumbledore's gaze swept over the pile of ashes on the floor, then settled on Harry, who lay sprawled on his back.

He fell silent for two seconds.

"If I saw correctly," the old man's voice remained calm, though his beard seemed to twitch slightly, "you just... threw Harry?"

"To be precise," Hermione corrected him earnestly, "I asked Harry to lend a hand."

"..."

Dumbledore had lived for over a hundred years and seen countless ways of dealing with a Dark Lord.

Using a person as a projectile was a first.

Hermione blinked, looking utterly innocent:

"I know we broke school rules by entering the forbidden area."

"But Harry saw through Voldemort's plot, and you weren't at school. As his friend, I could only go with him to make sure nothing happened to him."

In short: Nothing to do with me.

A seamless handoff of blame.

But that really was how things had happened.

Before tonight, Hermione had never once visited the Restricted Area on the fourth floor, conducted any investigation on her own, or shown the slightest ulterior motive. Harry had uncovered the entire plot himself and taken the initiative to invite her. Anyone looking at her would see someone dragged into it against her will.

As for the Philosopher's Stone, she did not mention it at all.

Dumbledore smiled and gave her a meaningful look. "It's all right. You don't need to explain yourself to me. As for the Philosopher's Stone..."

Here it comes!

Hermione's gaze shifted slightly.

She was already prepared. If he asked about the Philosopher's Stone, she would say she was interested in alchemy, dreamed of becoming an alchemist like Nicolas Flamel, and wanted to study it-and play pitiful while she was at it.

After all, everyone at Hogwarts knew of her thirst for knowledge. She could openly admit she had taken the Philosopher's Stone to use it. It was no big deal.

Only for academic purposes, of course.

Besides, she had done them such a tremendous service tonight, willingly risking her life for Hogwarts's safety and peace in the wizarding world. How righteous and noble! With such a tiny request, could they really bring themselves to refuse?

But Dumbledore's next words genuinely surprised Hermione.

"The Philosopher's Stone was intended for you all along."

"Huh?"

Hermione blinked and looked at Dumbledore in confusion.

From what Dumbledore was saying, he would have given her the Philosopher's Stone even if she had not come tonight.

So I went to all this trouble for nothing?

I could've just sat at home and had treasure fall into my lap?

But why?

Were we really that close?

Ever since enrolling, Hermione had been avoiding Dumbledore, not wanting to get involved with him. Apart from the day she arrived, he had not shown any special interest in her either.

The two of them had not even exchanged more than ten sentences.

If Professor McGonagall had said this, she could have understood. But Dumbledore...

If she had not known what sort of person Dumbledore was, Hermione would have thought he was some priest from America trying to offer her candy.

Little Hermione trembled.

Ignoring Hermione's wary expression, Dumbledore took a battered notebook from his pocket and handed it to her.

"These are Nicolas Flamel's alchemy notes. He asked me to pass them along to you as well."