The grey heir

The hour was late.

Most of Slytherin House had already gone to sleep, lulled by the cold lull of the dungeons and the hypnotic bubbling of the underwater windows. But Harry sat alone at his desk in his private chamber, the soft scratch of quill on parchment the only sound within earshot.

The fire burned low, casting flickering shadows across the stone floor. Its warmth didn't quite reach the corner where he wrote, but he didn't mind. The silence helped him think.

He glanced briefly at the small enchanted box resting beside his candle.

Inside it, wrapped in a folded handkerchief of charmed stasis silk, was the Philosopher's Stone.

It pulsed faintly—not with heat or light, but with something older. Something that didn't quite belong in the hands of the living. A shard of eternity hidden within the mortal world.

Harry's grip tightened around his quill.

This wasn't something he ever intended to seek in this life. But fate—or perhaps death itself—had handed it to him again.

He bent forward and began to write with slow precision.

> To the Esteemed Nicolas Flamel,

I hope this letter finds you well and beyond the reach of most ears. I am writing to you not in arrogance, but out of necessity. I have something that belongs to you.

Several days ago, I accessed the third-floor corridor at Hogwarts—the one hidden behind enchantments, illusions, and beasts. There, I discovered the Philosopher's Stone. The object you once forged in pursuit of a dream few truly understand.

I did not take it for power. Nor for profit. I took it because I could no longer trust the man tasked with guarding it.

Albus Dumbledore may have once been your friend. He may still be your ally. But he has become something else now—something I no longer place my faith in.

The Stone is currently safe, sealed in a protective box only I can open. No one else knows of its location.

I ask for a meeting during the upcoming Christmas holidays. You choose the place. No intermediaries. I will return what was never meant to be left in a school full of children.

I do not seek alliance. Or mentorship. Or even answers.

But I believe you will understand why I could not leave it where it was.

Yours in trust,

H. Peverell

P.S. Hedwig, my owl, is loyal and discreet. She will remain with you until your response is ready.

He re-read the letter twice, making sure there were no traces of emotion that could be used against him. No clues to his deeper identity. Not yet.

With a wave of his wand, he sealed the parchment in a thick grey envelope and pressed the Hallows insignia into the wax. The mark was faint—barely noticeable—but deliberate.

It was a name and a challenge in one.

He turned toward the open window. Hedwig had been silently watching him from the sill. The moonlight reflected in her amber eyes.

"This one's yours, girl," Harry said softly. "To Flamel. Straight to him. No one else."

The owl extended her leg without hesitation. He tied the letter securely, then gave her feathers a gentle stroke.

"Wait for an answer. And don't be seen."

She hooted once, then took to the sky with a whoosh of wings, vanishing into the velvet dark.

Harry remained at the window long after she was gone.

Down in the lake, something rippled—maybe a grindylow. Maybe not. Hogwarts looked so peaceful from here. So secure.

But beneath its stones, he knew better.

He returned to the box and stared at it a moment longer.

The Stone felt heavier than it should. Not just in weight—but in meaning. What had begun as a symbol of humanity's defiance of death had become something far more dangerous. The temptation of immortality… a curse disguised as brilliance.

He placed the box into a concealed drawer, one layered in goblin-wrought runes that only answered to his magical signature.

Then he extinguished the candle with a soft breath.

Tomorrow would be another ordinary day. Classes. Questions. Lies.

But tonight… tonight, the world shifted again.

Because one of the world's most powerful objects no longer rested beneath the feet of those who would exploit it.

It rested with Harry Peverell.