Magic? || Years 1-5

Unraveling The Truth: Year 1

"Alright, alright! I get it, just please don't soak me in milk, I like being clean, thanks," Amisty joked, trying and succeeding to lighten the mood.

"Just try to get some proper sleep tonight, you look like you're sleepwalking through the day," Hermione smiled slightly.

A smile Amisty was quick to return.

-=+=-

Amisty's steps dragged as she trudged up to the common room, for once wondering why it was so high up.

Her energy was spent after classes, not to mention she hadn't gotten enough sleep due to the nightmares that haunted her the night before.

She still couldn't remember a smidge of what happened after waking from the nightmare however, which was beyond irritating.

When she spoke the password to the portrait and finally tumbled into the carpeted floor, confusion flooded her mind as her eyes took in the scene before her.

Though exhaustion plagued her, her heart still blazed with anger when she heard that one name that could turn curdled milk even more spoiled.

"Malfoy, I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on." Neville's quavering voice cut through her tiredness.

Immediately she shot to her feet, anger flaring up in her eyes.

"Go to Professor McGonagall! Report him!" Hermione exclaimed, placing her hand on Neville's shoulder.

Amisty nodded, biting her cheek to keep from spewing out a train of insults.

"I don't want more trouble." he replied softly, shaking his head.

"I can beat his preppy, spoiled face into a pulp! That should knock him down a few pegs, right? Please?" Amisty begged internally, wishfully thinking that she had some kind of mental power that would let everyone in the room hear her thoughts.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville! He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier!" Ron protested, and Amisty found herself nodding again.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be a Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," The amount of sorrow in Neville's voice sent a wave of sympathy crashing down over Amisty's heart.

It wasn't what Ron intended to say, but it did seem that way. Harry pulled out a chocolate frog from his robes before handing it over to the saddened boy.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy. The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin," His voice slathered was in encouragement.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?" Neville smiled weakly, passing Harry the card as he walked by.

The green eyed boy glanced down at the card, his gaze quickly turning dismissive.

"Dumbledore again, he was the first one I ever-," His voice cut off, and he took a double take at the card, eyes growing wide.

"I've found him! I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here- listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve using of dragon's blood, and his works on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!" Harry hissed excitedly.

"Stay here!" Hermione leaped to her feet, eagerness glowing in the depths of her golden brown eyes.

She raced up the girls dormitory stairs, up and down within seconds with a humongous leather bound book held tight in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here. I got this out of the library weeks ago for some light reading," She gasped, flipping open the cover with a small poof of dust.

"Light?" Ron exclaimed, bewildered.

"Shush," Hermione snapped back, flashing through the pages like lighting, the information reflected in her eyes.

"I knew it! I knew it!" she murmured.

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" Ron grumbled, not one to enjoy being hushed up.

Especially by Hermione.

"Nicholas Flamel," she murmured, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"No way. That can't be true, they can't have kept the Stone here. It's ridiculous!" Amisty exclaimed, not believing it for a second.

"But it is, right there." Hermione countered, shoving the open book towards the green eyed girl.

"What are you two on about?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.

Amisty let out a disappointed sigh, and let the two read the passage with her.

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!" Hermione proclaimed ecstatically.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying! No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it," Harry replied.

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?" Ron added, things slowly becoming clearer.

"This just got a whole lot more interesting." Amisty grinned, her excitement reflected in the three others eyes.