[Third Person Pov]
After the exams had finally come to an end, the oppressive tension that had hung over the castle for weeks seemed to lift all at once. Students were allowed to wander freely across the grounds, soaking in the rare gift of leisure beneath a bright, welcoming sky. Laughter and chatter echoed through the open fields, and for the first time in a while, Hogwarts felt light again.
Arthur and Lance had claimed a quiet spot beneath the shade of a broad oak tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Between them sat a wizard's chessboard, the pieces arranged in the middle of an intense match. Arthur leaned back casually against the trunk, watching the board with half-lidded eyes, while Lance leaned forward, far more invested. He raised one hooked finger to his lips, brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the battlefield before him.
His bishop sat trapped, hemmed in on all sides by Arthur's knights.
"Hm…" Lance hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "This doesn't look promising."
Not far from them, the scene was far less composed.
Gwyneth had her face buried in Merlin's chest, clinging to her as though the world itself had wronged her beyond repair. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed dramatically, fists gripping the fabric of Merlin's robes. "He was so scary!" she wailed. "He called my potion subpar!"
Merlin bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, resisting the overwhelming urge to laugh. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Gwyneth and gently patted her head in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "There, there," Merlin said softly, her tone warm and reassuring. "I'm sure your other exams will more than make up for the points Snape deducted. You did wonderfully overall."
Gwyneth sniffled loudly and tilted her head up, amber eyes shimmering with unshed tears as they searched Merlin's face. "You really think so?" she asked in a small, pitiful voice, lower lip trembling just a little for added effect.
Merlin opened her mouth to answer, but she never got the chance.
"Oh, Mer-lynn!" Gwyneth suddenly sobbed anew, tightening her embrace and pressing her face back into Merlin's chest. "What would I ever do without you!"
Before Merlin could respond—or pry herself loose—another voice cut sharply through the peaceful moment.
"Arthur!"
Arthur, Lance, Merlin, and Gwyneth all turned at once as Arthur's name was shouted with unmistakable urgency. Across the grass, Harry, Ron, and Hermione came running toward them, their expressions tense and panicked. They skidded to a stop nearby, all three bent slightly forward, hands on their knees as they struggled to catch their breath.
Harry straightened first, gulping in air before blurting out, "Hagrid—Hagrid told a stranger how to get past Fluffy!"
"What!?" Gwyneth exclaimed, finally pulling away from Merlin, her earlier despair instantly replaced with alarm. She was the only one who reacted so visibly. Arthur and Merlin exchanged a silent look, while Lance tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
"Why would he do such a thing?" Lance asked calmly.
As he spoke, Sylvia climbed up and settled herself comfortably on his lap. Lance absentmindedly began to pet her, his focus split between her and the unfolding conversation.
Harry continued, explaining how Hagrid had been drinking, how the stranger had plied him with alcohol, and how a casual conversation had turned disastrous. The bet for a dragon egg had loosened Hagrid's tongue, and before he realized it, the secret had slipped out.
Arthur listened carefully, his expression neutral, but his thoughts churned.
'Wait…' he thought midway through Harry's explanation. 'He didn't mention Sylvia, I hope.' The corners of Arthur's lips twitched faintly. 'I sincerely hope I didn't make a mistake asking Hagrid to help take care of her…'
"We have to tell Dumbledore everything," Harry said firmly once he finished, green eyes flashing with determination.
"You'd only be wasting your time," Arthur replied calmly, commanding a chess piece to move forwards without even glancing at the board.
"Huh? Why?" Hermione asked, clearly confused. "Only someone like Dumbledore could protect the Philosopher's Stone from getting into the wrong hands."
"And I don't doubt that," Arthur said, shaking his head slightly, "but he's not here. We overheard a passing comment from the poltergeist—Dumbledore's been called away to the Ministry of Magic. He won't be back anytime soon."
Ron's eyes widened as understanding clicked into place. "So he was called away on purpose, wasn't he?" Ron said slowly. "Without the headmaster around, stealing the Stone would be a piece of cake."
"Then we'll just tell Professor McGonagall," Hermione exclaimed quickly, grasping at the next logical solution.
"Good luck with that," Arthur replied with a weary grin, continuing his chess match as though the conversation were merely academic. "She won't believe it."
"You can't know that for sure," Harry said stubbornly, though a flicker of doubt crossed his face.
"Be my guest," Arthur said evenly. "But she won't believe you—and all you'll accomplish is letting her know that you are aware of the Stone."
…
A few minutes later, the trio returned to where the others were gathered, their shoulders slumped and their heads hanging low and their morale even lower.
"So?" Arthur asked lightly, tilting his head with a playful curiosity that sharply contrasted their expressions.
"She didn't believe us," Hermione mumbled, her voice heavy with disappointment. She refused to meet anyone's eyes.
"And now she knows we know about the stupid Stone," Ron added with a frustrated scowl, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoe.
Gwyneth couldn't help herself—she let out a small giggle at how utterly miserable the three of them looked, finding their dejection almost cartoonish.
"What can we do now…?" Harry asked quietly, almost unconsciously lifting a hand to touch the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, his fingers lingering there as his thoughts spiraled.
"There's only one thing left to do," Gwyneth declared suddenly.
She stepped forward with her chest puffed out proudly, planting her feet as though she were standing before an invisible audience. Both hands settled firmly on her hips as she struck a dramatic pose.
"A conspiracy threatens the school," she announced grandly, "and all the students at large!"
She thrust one arm outward toward the distant silhouette of the castle, fingers curling into a tight fist. "A conspiracy only we know about! Which means it falls to us—and us alone—to keep the Stone out of vile hands that seek to bring evil upon this world!"
Lance snorted softly, and Arthur chuckled, clearly amused by her theatrics. The rest of them, however, stared on with varying degrees of disbelief and exhaustion.
"Please take this seriously—" Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples as she prepared to launch into a full lecture.
"Actually—" Harry cut in before she could finish.
Everyone turned to him.
"Even if I wouldn't have worded it like that," Harry said, glancing briefly at Gwyneth, "she's right. It is up to us now. No one else knows what's really at stake here."
"You're both mad!" Ron exclaimed, staring at Harry and Gwyneth as if they'd lost their mind.
"You can't!" Hermione added urgently. "After what McGonagall said? You'll be expelled!"
"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
The sudden outburst stunned them into silence.
"Don't you understand?" he went on, green eyes blazing. "If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts left to get expelled from!" Harry continued fiercely. "He'll flatten it—or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? Do you really think he'll leave you and your families alone just because Gryffindor wins the House Cup?"
Ron stared at Harry, stunned into silence.
"If I get caught before I can reach the Stone," Harry went on, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity, "then I'll just go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It's only dying a bit later than I would have anyway, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side. I'm going through that trapdoor tonight, and nothing you two say is going to stop me."
His voice wavered for just a heartbeat before he finished, quieter now but infinitely heavier.
"Voldemort killed my parents. Remember?"
A stunned silence settled over the group.
Arthur faintly smiled, not in amusement but in something closer to approval; he hadn't expected Harry to say it so plainly, or with such conviction. Gwyneth flinched at the name being spoken so openly, and Ron visibly stiffened, as though the word itself carried a physical weight.
Hermione's shoulders sagged. She lowered her head, shame coloring her expression as her hands curled tightly at her sides. "You're right…" she admitted softly. "I'm sorry."
Before anyone else could speak, Sylvia leapt lightly from Lance's lap and padded over to Harry. She brushed against his leg, then rubbed her head against him, letting out a small, encouraging cry.
Harry blinked in surprise, then slowly knelt and offered a tentative hand. Sylvia responded immediately, nuzzling into his palm.
Arthur watched the interaction with a gentle smile. "It seems Sylvia approves of your determination," he said evenly. "I suppose that settles it, then."
Reaching into his robes, Arthur withdrew his grimoire and opened it to a carefully marked page. Arcane symbols shimmered faintly as a blue magic circle bloomed into existence hovering over his palm. The others leaned in, eyes staring with interest as the air itself seemed to hum with magic.
Arthur activated the duplication spell Merlin had gifted him. One by one, identical copies of the page peeled away from the original. He tore the copies free and began passing them around.
"Here," Arthur said. "Tier Three invisibility spells. Each one will last over an hour—or until you choose to reveal yourselves. They should allow you to slip out of your dormitories without being noticed and regroup at the trapdoor."
He paused, then looked directly at Harry. "I won't give you one. You already have your cloak, and you won't need it."
Harry nodded in agreement and with the spells distributed and resolve hardened, the group leaned together, voices low, beginning to plan their descent into the depths of Hogwarts—toward the trapdoor, the Stone, and whatever waited for them beneath.
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