The common room of Gryffindor Tower buzzed with the usual post-dinner chaos. Cards zipped through the air as Seamus and Dean played some magically animated version of Snap. Lavender and Parvati were whispering furiously over a fashion magazine Hermione had once rolled her eyes at so hard she nearly sprained something. The fire crackled, the stairs creaked, and laughter bounced off the walls like spells in a duel.
And Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—was pacing.
I noticed first, which wasn't exactly a miracle. I notice everything. Especially when I'm pretending not to. My eyes flicked up from the parchment I'd been writing on—an inventory list disguised as Charms homework—and tracked Harry's movement with the same instinctive calculation I normally reserved for chess or highly suspect cats.
"Okay, he's either lost something, forgotten something, or is about to do something stupid," I muttered.
"Don't be mean," Hermione chided, not looking up from her book. Though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.
"I wasn't being mean. I was being observant."
She arched an eyebrow at me. "Is there a difference?"
"I use fewer syllables when I'm being mean."
Before she could fire back—and I could already see her loading the slingshot—Harry walked over with Ron in tow.
"Can we talk to you two?" Harry asked, glancing around. "Somewhere quiet."
Hermione and I exchanged a look. That wasn't his usual tone. This wasn't 'Ron exploded a cauldron again' or 'Malfoy being a sodding nuisance.' This was serious. Quiet serious. The kind that creeps into your ribs and settles there.
I folded up the parchment. "Lead the way."
The four of us slipped toward a quieter corner of the room near the window, away from the hearth and the chaos.
Harry turned to us, arms crossed like he was bracing for impact. "Something's wrong," he said. "Really wrong."
I didn't say anything. Just gave him a nod. Keep talking.
"I think someone's trying to steal something," he said. "Something dangerous. And I think… I think it's hidden at Hogwarts."
Hermione frowned. "What sort of something?"
"A weapon?" I offered. "Cursed object? Portrait of Umbridge in a bikini?"
"Who?" Ron quipped.
Hermione swatted my arm. "Sky."
"Just covering our bases."
Harry wasn't smiling. "No. It's the Philosopher's Stone."
Hermione blinked. "The—what?"
I nodded. "Thought so."
Harry snapped his head toward me. "Wait—how do you know about that?"
"You asked us who Nicholas Flamel was over Christmas, remember?" I said with a shrug. "Old alchemist, lives forever. Combine that with Hagrid dropping hints about something being guarded at the school, a forbidden third-floor corridor, and all the professors acting like they've swallowed particularly aggressive pinecones… wasn't hard to guess."
Hermione's voice dipped into a whisper. "The Philosopher's Stone... it really exists?"
"Apparently." I glanced at Harry. "And you're saying someone's after it?"
"I think it's Quirrell," Harry said. "I haven't seen anything directly, but… I don't know. He's just—off. I keep noticing things. He always seems to be in the wrong place. He avoids eye contact. He stutters more when people are watching. Less when he thinks they're not."
Hermione stared at him, thoughtful. "But that's not proof. That's just… suspicion."
"I know," Harry admitted. "But it's more than just a feeling. Ever since Hagrid told us about the unicorns being hurt, I've been putting pieces together. Something's feeding on them. Something evil. Who else would even be out there after dark?"
"But why would he need the Stone?" Hermione asked. "And how would he even get past the protections? I mean, the staff wouldn't just leave it open to anyone—"
"I don't know how," Harry said, visibly frustrated. "But I just… I feel it. Something's wrong with him."
I folded my arms, watching the way his eyes wouldn't settle. This wasn't paranoia. He believed it.
After a brief moment of silence Ron puffed up. "Then let's go stop them! We can check the third floor now—"
"No," Hermione and I said together.
I held up a finger. "First of all, no. Second of all, really no."
"But—"
"Ron," Hermione said sharply, "you don't even know what we'd be walking into!"
Hermione continued, "Besides, Dumbledore's here. He wouldn't let anyone get near the Stone."
Harry clenched his jaw. "He's not."
"What?" Hermione's voice dropped.
"I heard Professor McGonagall tell Professor Quirrell in the hallway. He will be gone tomorrow. Got called to the Ministry. He is leaving in the afternoon. Now that Quirrell knows, if there was ever an opportunity it would have to be tomorrow night. I just know it."
The mood shifted so fast, even the walls felt colder.
I let out a long breath. "Well. That's not ideal."
Shit, So you chose to time Harry's "test" already?! I guess even Dumbledore was unnerved about all the unicorn deaths in the forest. I was at least hoping for a week so I can prepare!!
Worst part about this, I can't even prevent Harry from doing what he is about to do because of my damned contract. sigh
Why did I have to be so thorough.
Hermione looked stunned. "If Dumbledore's not here… then the Stone really might not be safe."
They turned to me.
I looked out the window.
Didn't say anything.
I stood there for a long moment, hands in my pockets, the words bouncing around in my head like cursed bludgers.
Harry gave me a look—equal parts desperate and determined. "Sky… will you help us?"
I let out a breath, one hand dragging across my jaw. "Yeah. I'll help."
I didn't like it. But I said it.
And as the others started quietly planning our next step, I kept my eyes on the fire, mind spinning.
This was too early.
In canon—real canon, the story I remembered—this didn't happen until the end of the school year. Nearly June.
My meddling had fast-tracked the timeline by months.
I hadn't just nudged the story off course.
I'd put us on a collision path with something we weren't ready for.
Shit.
Also, side note—if I die helping them and it turns out Quirrell just wanted to steal some novelty socks from Filch's confiscated drawer, I'm going to haunt every Prefect bathroom and scream whenever someone sits down.
Just for the record. Might even be the girls bathroom for the hell of it. I wonder if the Gray Lady is single?
*smack*
"Ow Hermione! Thats a full blown Brittanica you threw at me!! Why'd you do that for?!" I yelled at her.
Hermione just frowned "I don't know, It felt like you deserved it for some strange reason."