>>5745374>>5745375>>5745377>>5745420>>5745470Not much doubt on this one, apparently
You don't even need to think about it. You dash through the bookshelves, glancing at spine after spine of barely decipherable runes, worn off covers and simply untitled tomes until finding something you knew to be here simply because of its fame. It was the same book the current Minister of Magic had stolen in her second year and used to brew polyjuice in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Moste Potente Potions, a catalog of recipes for many dangerous, controversial, and arcane potions. And, wouldn’t you know it, you had got an Outstanding in your Potions OWLs last year. You and that tome were like a match made in heaven.
You quickly flip through the book’s horrific illustrations, just to be sure you got the right one, then reverently stuff it into a bag. You head for the exit, unlatch the door and… no alarms ring.
Beautiful.
Was that how Potter had felt when he could roam the schools with a Cape that, if the myths were to be believed, Hid him from any and all detection enchantments? If so, it was definitely less glamorous than you expected, but still absolutely fantastic.
--
It was the next morning’s breakfast when you, Raven and Tyler manage to meet again. The Great Hall is filled with people filling their faces with food as fast as possible to get some minutes of freedom before getting to class, so it is the perfect place to speak without being overheard.
“So, it worked? Man, you could have gotten me Stars in the Dark! Do you know how rare it is?”
“Shh! Not so loud! I got the one that sounded most useful at the time.”
“Still, good to know that Potter is hiding <span class="mu-i">something</span> from you. It would be stupid to just tell you everything.” Raven says with a black-lipstick-covered evil grin. ”Still, the Stone. Think we can bring evil wizards back with it, if we can find it? Who knows the amount of knowledge they hold.”
“Maybe. Some scholars think it just brings reflections of people you know, that it doesn’t actually connect you to the dead. No one knows for sure. In any case, if Potter can’t find it, what choice do we have?”
“Potter couldn’t find <span class="mu-i">you</span>,” Taylor notes. “Maybe he needs his glasses back.”
“Uh-oh. Gryffindor goddess, seven o’clock.”
[Cont.]