Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

The library was as quiet as ever, filled with the faint rustle of pages turning and the soft scratch of quills on parchment. Tall shelves packed with ancient books stood neatly in rows, their shadows stretching across the worn stone floor under the flickering light of enchanted lamps.

At one of the tables, Hermione Granger sat hunched over a huge, leather-bound book, her eyes sharp with focus. Candlelight flickered over the pages, making the tiny, neat writing shine. For weeks, she'd been buried in books, determined to solve the mystery that had been bothering them all year—the truth about Nicolas Flamel.

It was thanks to Cael that she'd finally gotten somewhere.

He hadn't told her directly—just a quiet suggestion, like a hint whispered in passing—but it had been enough to set her on the right track. Without it, she probably would've spent months buried under dusty old books, getting nowhere. But now, she was close.

The name Nicolas Flamel had been floating around in her mind ever since before Christmas. She remembered how Harry and Ron had come to apologize then, awkward and embarrassed after teasing her earlier. Cael's advice had changed how she saw them. Once she realized they were basically overgrown, clueless five-year-olds, it was easier to forgive them.

And, oddly enough, they seemed to be seeing her differently too. Not just as the annoying know-it-all, but… well, maybe as a friend.

Her eyes scanned the page, the words blurring together—until they didn't.

Her heart skipped a beat.

There it was.

"Nicolas Flamel… born 1327…" Hermione's eyes went wide. 1327? Her finger traced the words again, hardly believing what she was reading.

"The only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary item that can produce the Elixir of Life and make someone immortal. Flamel, together with his wife Perenelle, is believed to have lived for over six hundred years."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Six hundred years? But the book was recent, and it didn't sound like Flamel was just some old legend—the way it was written made it sound like he was still alive.

She slammed the book shut with a loud thud, earning a sharp glare from Madam Pince. But Hermione barely noticed. She shoved the heavy book into her bag and rushed out of the library, her mind racing.

The Gryffindor common room was cozy, the fire crackling softly as Harry and Ron lounged by the hearth, sharing a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Their conversation stopped as Hermione burst through the portrait hole, flushed and out of breath.

"I found him!" she exclaimed, eyes shining.

"Found who?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Nicolas Flamel," Hermione announced, pulling the thick book from her bag like it was a trophy. She sat down beside Harry, flipping the book open. "I've been searching for weeks—and he was right here all along. In Famous Witches and Wizards of the Last Millennium. Listen to this."

She read the passage aloud, her voice full of excitement.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in shock.

"Six hundred and sixty-five years old?" Ron repeated, eyes wide. "Blimey… You'd think he'd have crumbled to dust by now."

"But don't you see?" Hermione said, practically bouncing in her seat. "That's how he's still alive—the Philosopher's Stone! It makes the Elixir of Life. Flamel created it. He's been alive all this time."

Harry's eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. "Hagrid emptied that vault at Gringotts—the day someone broke in. That's where the Stone was."

Hermione nodded quickly. "And where do you hide something that important? Somewhere only Dumbledore could protect it—the Fourth-Floor corridor. The one that's off-limits."

Ron let out a low whistle. "The one Dumbledore warned us about… 'unless you want to die a painful death,' yeah?"

"Exactly," Hermione said, flipping through more pages. "Hagrid's lovely, but he's terrible at keeping secrets. He already let slip too much. And the Stone—it's priceless. It makes gold, gives eternal life. Every Dark wizard would want it."

Harry's face darkened as he thought it over. "Someone tried to steal it. Broke into Gringotts for it. And now… now it's here at Hogwarts."

The three of them fell silent, the fire crackling softly in the background.

"Dumbledore's the strongest wizard alive," Hermione said quietly. "But even he can't be everywhere at once."

Ron made a face. "And if he leaves the castle… who keeps the Stone safe then?"

"We need to find out what's behind that door," Harry muttered, eyes narrowing. "The Fourth Floor. We have to see it for ourselves."

They stared into the flames, the weight of what they'd learned sinking in.

"So let me get this straight," Ron said, counting on his fingers. "Some ancient bloke made a Stone that makes you live forever. Someone tried to steal it from Gringotts, Dumbledore hid it here, and the thief might still be wandering around the castle."

Hermione closed the book with a soft thump. "That's right. And we need to keep an eye on that corridor. Someone's going to come for the Stone."

Harry's jaw tightened with determination. "And we need to find out who."

Hidden behind them , under a Disillusionment Charm, Cael stood watching them, a small smirk on his face.

"So much drama for the 'main characters,'" Cael thought, amused. "Why are they getting tangled up in this Stone business already? Is fate rushing them along?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

"But the timeline is already off the track . By now, they should've met Fluffy—the three-headed dog should've shown up already," he mused, his lips curling in quiet amusement.

He chuckled softly to himself.

"Guess we'll see if this plays out like the story I remember… or if fate has a few new tricks up its sleeve."