HRHL# Chapter 47 I've seen him before!

Creating a magical mark was no easy task.

Harry had spent half a day experimenting in the Room of Requirement without success.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were happily dueling with Expelliarmus spells, taking turns to pummel the training dummy with visible delight.

However, Harry couldn’t help noticing an issue. Ron’s talent wasn’t bad at all, but his mismatched wand made learning spells twice as hard and half as effective.

Harry recalled Ollivander’s words about wands choosing their wizards, but he had always felt it went both ways—wasn’t it just as much about the wizard choosing the wand?

It was time to figure out a way for Ron to get a new wand, Harry thought. Considering the Weasleys’ financial situation, if they could afford it, they wouldn’t have handed Ron Charlie’s old wand in the first place.

Maybe he could gift Ron one? Harry made up his mind, but the thought of directly giving him a wand made him hesitate. He didn’t want to hurt Ron’s pride.

He’d have to find a better way, he decided.

When they left the Room of Requirement, Ron and Hermione still seemed reluctant to end their practice session.

Kids, after all, were naturally drawn to new and exciting things—and to the thrill of destruction. Hermione and Ron were no exceptions.

Who wouldn’t be fascinated by the freedom and exhilaration of casting spells at will?

“Excellent! Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!”

During Charms class, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in delight, praising Ron’s spellwork.

Ron had been the first in class to make something heavier than a feather levitate using the Wingardium Leviosa spell. The proof lay in the desk that hovered in front of Flitwick—albeit for just a brief moment before it fell back down.

Still, Flitwick was more than happy to offer encouragement.

“Harry! Harry! I did it!” Ron exclaimed excitedly, shaking Harry’s arm.

Hermione clapped politely, though she couldn’t help shaking her head at Ron’s enthusiasm.

She had mastered this level long ago.

But Harry had privately asked her to let Ron have a chance to shine and not steal all the house points for herself. That’s why she had deliberately held back in class.

To their classmates, it simply looked like Ron was celebrating with friends. No one guessed that his sudden improvement in charms had much to do with Harry’s careful guidance.

The trio often visited Hagrid in his hut on Friday afternoons. As usual, Harry didn’t hesitate to accept a rock cake under the disapproving stares of his friends.

“Just soak it in tea before eating,” Harry suggested to the others. “I tried it last time when I had a toothache—it works surprisingly well. Hagrid, could you break it into smaller pieces for us?”

“Of course, Harry.”

Hagrid cheerfully took the rock cakes and carefully broke them into small chunks. He knew full well that human teeth were no match for his baking. Grateful for Harry’s thoughtfulness, he smiled and poured them each a cup of honey water.

“Phew...” Harry took a sip and, with a sense of exaggerated relief, said to Hagrid, “You know, Hagrid, this is lemonade. That stuff I had in the Headmaster’s office the other day? It was more like lemon syrup.”

“You were in Dumbledore’s office?” Hagrid asked, stroking his beard. “Dumbledore’s a good man, isn’t he? Loves sweets—everyone knows that. Professor McGonagall always tries to hide his candy, but it doesn’t seem to work. Most of Snape’s tooth-strengthening potions end up going to him!”

Hagrid leaned in conspiratorially, gesturing for the trio to do the same.

“Speaking of Snape,” he whispered, “he suggested the tooth potion’s expenses should go on the school board’s budget. But Dumbledore refused.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Hagrid, don’t you realize Snape was being sarcastic?”

Hagrid blinked in surprise, then said, “Oh! He was?”

“Yes,” all three of them said in unison.

“Ohhh...” Hagrid scratched his head, chuckling. “I was wondering why he’d say something like that...”

“By the way, Hagrid,” Harry interjected, “since you mentioned Snape... I saw him after Halloween, and his leg looked injured. Filch was treating him, and I overheard something about a three-headed animal biting him. You’re the expert on magical creatures—any idea what it might be?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” Hagrid said modestly, scratching his head again. “But maybe it was Fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” the trio asked in unison.

“Yeah, Fluffy’s a three-headed dog I got off a Greek bloke. Bit of an odd one—falls asleep the moment it hears music. Dumbledore borrowed it to guard something on the fourth floor. I’m not sure it’s enough to protect N... Oh, I shouldn’t have said that!”

Hagrid clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing he’d let something slip.

“Nicholas Flamel?” Hermione asked immediately.

The trio exchanged glances, and Harry leaned back in his chair, suddenly at ease.

“Who’s Nicholas Flamel?” Hermione pressed.

“Oh no, lass, that’s Dumbledore’s business,” Hagrid said, quickly standing up to usher them out. “I’ve already said too much. You’ve got classes tomorrow—it’s getting late, so off you go!”

With no choice, the trio left Hagrid’s hut.

“Nicholas Flamel?” Ron muttered as they walked. “Why does that name sound so familiar? I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

“Me too,” Hermione said, frowning. “But I can’t remember where.”

“Harry, any ideas?” Ron turned to him.

“You actually saw it today,” Harry replied, pulling a Chocolate Frog card from inside his robes. “Here, I’ve still got it on me.”

Ron took the card and read aloud: “Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, widely regarded as the greatest wizard of our time.”

“His notable achievements include defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work in alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel... Oh, right! I saw his name on this card before! What does he do?”

“It says it right there—Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist,” Hermione explained.

“I read about him in a book,” Harry said smoothly, without batting an eye. “Nicholas Flamel is over six hundred years old. He’s lived since the 14th century and is said to own the Philosopher’s Stone—a magical object with incredible powers. It can turn any metal into gold and grant immortality.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged a shocked look, gasping audibly.

Ron’s astonishment stemmed from the stone’s miraculous abilities.

Hermione’s amazement, however, was directed at Harry’s impressive knowledge.

“You know so much, Harry,” she said admiringly.

Harry simply smiled modestly. Internally, he thought, If only you knew—I’ve met Nicholas Flamel myself...