Nicolas Flamel, when Harry visited Nimongard Castle during Christmas in fifth year, met the famous Alchemist.
The Old Grindelwalds and the Leme couple were friends, so that's why Vivi took him to visit the Lemes that Christmas.
Harry had a deep impression of them—after all, there aren't many people as osteoporotic as Nicolas Flamel, fragile like a little gingerbread.
Just as Harry was lost in memories, Hermione suddenly stomped her foot.
"I've got it!"
"You've got what?" Ron asked.
"Snape wants to steal the Magic Stone!" Hermione whispered, "That's why he got bitten by Fluffy! Maybe the Giant was released by him too, to cause a distraction so he could sneak to where the Magic Stone is kept, tried to get past, and then got bitten by Fluffy! That must be it!"
Honestly, as Harry followed Hermione's reasoning, he realized that it actually could be true.
"But why would he do that?" Ron asked. "Isn't he a Master of Magic Potions? Does he need it too?"
"It's exactly because he's a Master of Magic Potions that he'd want that thing!" Hermione insisted. "I've never found any recipe for Elixir of Life in our Magic Potion textbooks. Trust me, a mad scientist can hardly resist that kind of temptation."
"But Snape is Professor of Potions, not some scientist," Ron retorted.
"You must've heard Professor Snape say in our first class that potion-making is a precise science," Hermione replied.
Ron thought back and realized that Snape did seem to have said that.
"Alright, maybe that's possible." He agreed with Hermione.
"Harry, what do you think?" Hermione asked.
Harry frowned, not answering Hermione directly, but said, "Then here's the real question—where exactly is Fluffy?"
"Where is it?" Ron asked in surprise. "Wait, are you thinking about helping the school protect the Magic Stone?"
Harry thought, of course I'm going to help guard it. I'm hoping to have a chat with Mr. Leme, maybe I can borrow the Magic Stone after all.
Ever since he found out it was the Magic Stone, Harry's goal shifted.
Maybe the focus doesn't need to be on the Headmaster after all, since that thing belongs to Mr. Leme, and he's a friend of Old Grindelwald.
Mr. Leme, surely you wouldn't want the daughter of an old friend…
"Of course! I'm a Hogwarts student," Harry proclaimed righteously.
Kids Ron's age are exactly at the stage where they fantasize about being superheroes.
Hearing Harry's certainty, he lit up with a grin. "Cool, count me in!"
At the end, he added, "We definitely have to take Hermione—no way we're doing this without her."
"I'm in," Hermione rolled her eyes. "To keep you two from getting yourselves killed."
As December approached, the weather grew colder and colder.
On the second day of December, the first snowfall of 1991 finally arrived late.
These days, the three of them spent their time either in class or in the Room of Requirement practicing Magic Spells.
Outside of that, they'd all gather and study where Fluffy might be hidden.
Harry truly had no clue; even though he'd lived in the castle for six years, he couldn't claim to know all its secrets.
Even the Map Secret Room, he'd only found because Villatia took him there.
Because of this, Cassandra's mood got even worse—though to be fair, she rarely treated anyone kindly anyway.
While walking down the corridor, Harry was cheerfully discussing dinner plans that night with Ron and Seamus.
Suddenly, a roar sounded behind them.
"You need to apologize to her! Parkinson!"
It was Hermione.
Harry and the others stopped, turned, and saw Hermione, looking like an angry lion, blocking Slytherin's Pansy Parkinson.
Not far away, her roommate Lavender Brown was frantically gathering up her scattered books from the floor.
"Why?" Pansy Parkinson asked coldly.
"You bumped into Lavender! You need to apologize!" Hermione snapped with fury.
"Forget it, Hermione, let it go," Lavender tugged Hermione's sleeve quietly, hoping to keep the peace.
"She did it on purpose!" Hermione growled under her breath. "Just because you corrected her in class!"
"Drop it," Lavender replied softly.
A crowd immediately gathered around, everyone watching to see what was happening.
Pansy sneered, curled her lip, and patted the blonde girl beside her.
"Let's go, Daphne."
"Stay right there!" Hermione roared.
Pansy's expression turned cold.
"So what do you want, you nosy Mudblood?"
"Pansy..." Daphne Greengrass tugged at her, worried. "How can you say that?"
"Hmph." Pansy scoffed. "A Mudblood like her doesn't even deserve to share a school building with me..."
Hermione whipped out her Magic Wand from her robe.
"Oh, you dare challenge me with a Magic Wand?" Pansy's tone dripped with disdain. "Just because you scored a few extra points in class, you think you're good? Mudblood, you'll soon realize just how far you are from Pure-blood Wizards!"
She drew her own Magic Wand too.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cast a spell—Pansy's wand spun through the air and landed in her hand.
"Scourgify!" She hit Parkinson with another spell.
Under the spell, Pansy dropped to her knees, pink bubbles frothing out of her mouth. She tried to swear, but the non-stop bubbles made her choke and gag.
"Your mouth is filthy, Parkinson," Hermione said icily. "Consider this your lesson!"
"Hermione!" Ron shouted suddenly.
Hermione had already sensed Daphne's spell coming—she ducked down, evaded Daphne's magic, and then snatched Daphne's wand away as well.
"Anyone else?" Hermione raised her chin.
Marcus Flint came forward with a malicious grin, followed by a group of older students.
Once a boy steps forward, the nature of it changes—especially with the upperclassmen. Harry and Ron drew their Magic Wands and shielded Hermione.
Neville and Seamus did the same, their hands trembling a bit, but they still held their ground in front of the three.
"Potter!" Marcus snarled, wasting no words, and fired a spell with orange-red light at Harry.
He'd stepped out on purpose, but it wasn't aimed at Hermione—it was to draw out Harry behind her.
Marcus knew full well that Harry and Hermione were close; of course Harry wouldn't just watch as the older students picked on Hermione. He'd absolutely jump in for that Mudblood girl.
He'd held a grudge ever since that collision in the Quidditch match.
He'd just been released from the hospital these past days, always plotting his revenge.
But if upperclassmen pick fights with first-years, they not only come off looking bad but it sounds downright nasty.
But now it's different—this was a golden opportunity. Just imagine: upperclassmen protecting their own house's first-years, accidentally hexing Mr. Savior and covering his face with boils—how sweet does that sound!