Mirrors, Swords and the Philosopher's Stone
The four of them arrived at the Gryffindor common room, where several students were packing their suitcases while running around everywhere, excitedly preparing to go home the next day. The atmosphere was noisy, warm, filled with voices and laughter; because of that, the four were practically ignored. They simply chose a seat in a quiet corner of the room where they wouldn't bother anyone, and Harry pulled out the two-way mirror.
At his side were Percy, Ron and Hermione, all waiting with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
Then, the reflection revealed a young man with platinum hair, gray eyes and a handsome, attractive face; though marked by a sullen expression, as if he had just been interrupted from something important. He wore a blue robe with fine golden details and a monocle on his right eye, which he removed with annoyance. His eyes, full of arrogance, seemed capable of freezing anyone on sight.
"Oh, it's you," Percy said with a clearly disappointed look, the same one he always made whenever he saw Mark anywhere. That expression only made Mark angrier every single time.
"Tsk. It's the brats," Mark said in an irritated and arrogant tone. "Your mother left early. She forgot her purse." He said it as if he wanted to end the conversation immediately; after all, every time he talked to these brats he ended up in some sort of verbal fight.
"Did you check Mom's purse?" Percy asked, giving him a look that said far too much about what he thought of Mark.
Mark rolled his eyes, fully aware that the argument was about to start again. Especially with Percy; that boy always found a way to annoy him. And although Mark usually enjoyed the banter, this time he seemed genuinely busy.
"I have a lot of things to do, so I'll just send your mother a message so she can come pick it up. You can call later," he said while moving the mirror as if preparing to end the call.
For a brief moment, before he cut the connection, they caught a glimpse of the magical laboratory behind him: for some reason it was filled with guinea pigs and other small rodents running everywhere, along with several cauldrons brewing potions all at once.
Hermione and Ron stared, surprised. He seemed like an extremely skilled potioneer to handle so many at once; even Snape always said a potioneer must concentrate solely on their own preparation.
"Wait, Mister Mark," Harry said immediately. After all, Mark worked with his mother and, on top of that, was supposedly a descendant of Merlin, so he must have a huge amount of information. "Maybe you can help us," he added quickly before Mark ended the call.
Mark reappeared, now with a slightly suspicious look, his eyes narrowed at Harry.
"Oh. You need my help?" Mark asked with a mildly arrogant tone.
"Uh… yes," Harry said, nodding.
Mark lifted an eyebrow with interest. Then he looked at Percy, who was still glaring at him with clear annoyance; he obviously didn't like the idea of asking him for help.
"So, you need my help, Percy?" Mark asked with a mocking tone.
Percy growled under his breath, looking genuinely irritated at the idea of asking him for help. But Harry's expression seemed to be silently begging him to cooperate. "…Yes," Percy finally said, crossing his arms.
"Yes what?" Mark asked, amused.
"We need your help," Percy added, looking absolutely fed up.
At that point, Harry started to find the situation somewhat amusing. He was beginning to understand why so many people liked teasing Percy; normally Percy was the one who bothered everyone, so seeing him cornered was… enlightening.
"We need your help what?" Mark insisted, taking full advantage of the moment.
"Sir," Percy said, as if he had to spit the word out.
Even Hermione began to find Percy's defeated expression funny.
Mark smiled with evident enjoyment as he sat down on a nearby sofa. "All right, what do you want?" he asked, now actually willing to help.
"Mister Mark, do you happen to know anything about Nicolas Flamel?" Harry asked, going straight to the point.
Upon hearing that name, Mark frowned slightly, glancing more deeply at Harry and Percy.
"Are you getting yourselves into trouble again?" he asked, surprising both boys.
"Of course not," they said at the same time, shaking their heads.
"It's for a school assignment," Hermione quickly added, using the perfect excuse.
Mark stared at her with a completely flat expression, as if he were observing some amusing little creature.
"You're going home tomorrow. They still gave you homework for the holidays?" he asked in a playful tone.
"Uh… yeah. It was Professor Snape," Percy said quickly, following Hermione's lie.
"Snape… is he the professor you mentioned? The one who wouldn't recognize a real potion even if it were right in front of him?" Mark asked with mild disgust. "There are always idiotic teachers everywhere," he added, remembering something from his own past.
The four of them didn't know whether to laugh at his words or to fear Snape somehow overhearing them through the castle walls.
"Anyway, you're really bad at lying," Mark said, looking at them with a mocking smile. The four internally groaned; their story hadn't worked at all. "You know your mother will be furious if I give you information that puts you in danger. And your aunt too. I don't want to deal with either of them angry. So unless you tell me why you want this information, I'm not telling you anything." His expression turned serious, unwavering, with no room for negotiation.
Percy and Harry both felt guilty. They looked at each other, then at Hermione and Ron.
"Should we tell him?" Ron asked.
"Yeah. Well… he's trustworthy. Even if he's an idiot," Percy said quickly.
"I heard that, brat," Mark said from the mirror.
"I said it so you would hear me," Percy shot back immediately.
"I suppose it should be fine, if Percy and Harry trust him," Hermione said calmly.
Ron didn't have much to argue; with three against one, he could only accept it.
So Harry explained absolutely everything to Mark: Fluffy, the hidden object, Dumbledore's warning and their suspicion about Nicolas Flamel. They told him everything from the beginning of the school year, holding nothing back.
Mark listened with his brow furrowed, as if analyzing each detail.
"Wow. Your school is more interesting than I thought," he finally said. "It's strange that your mother hasn't gone to pick you up yet."
Percy and Harry could only smile awkwardly.
"There's no real secret surrounding Nicolas Flamel. He's an extremely ancient alchemist, but… mmm, perhaps we should ask Adrien. He should have more complete information, and he'll definitely be interested in Hogwarts' history," Mark said while glancing at the others.
"I think that's fine," Harry said, nodding.
So Mark stood up and began walking through the hallways in search of Adrien. Thanks to a few nearby knights, he learned that Adrien was in the training grounds; therefore, he headed straight there.
Through the mirror, they could see a large inner courtyard, wide and bright, where several men trained in combat attire. Some fought with wooden swords, others lifted enormous weights; the air vibrated with the metallic echoes of clashes and the thud of footsteps on the sand.
Mark quickly found Adrien and Dorian, since both were standing on a huge circular ring, facing one another.
Adrien held a pure steel greatsword with both hands. The blade pointed upward as he maintained a straight, perfect posture, preparing to enter his guard stance, with the tip aimed toward Dorian.
Dorian, meanwhile, stretched his muscles lightly and performed a couple of short, tense hops. He held two twin swords, one in each hand, before adopting his own guard with a precision almost feline.
Beneath the ring stood an elderly man covered in scars, his gaze serious and commanding. "Begin," he shouted firmly.
The moment they heard Vincent's voice, the brothers' aura changed completely. It became colder, deadlier, more dangerous.
The first to move was Dorian. He launched himself forward with explosive speed and, with his right sword, thrust directly toward Adrien's chest.
Adrien, even though his weapon was heavier, moved the greatsword in a smooth circle and deflected the attack with complete ease, as if Dorian's speed meant nothing.
With his first attack blocked, Dorian quickly swung his other sword, aiming directly at Adrien's neck even from an awkward angle.
Adrien reacted just as fast: he lifted the hilt of the greatsword and blocked with the pommel in a fluid and perfectly calculated movement.
Sparks flew as the metal collided.
But neither of them stopped there. Adrien swung the blade behind him in a sweeping motion, raising the massive weapon to deliver a descending strike powerful enough to split stone.
At the same time, Dorian's swords shifted position as if part of a practiced trick; he grabbed them in reverse grip, and both blades ended up aiming at either side of Adrien's neck, just as Adrien's greatsword came down toward Dorian's head.
It was an exchange without brakes, without fear, without unnecessary movements. Both seemed willing to risk dying if it meant defeating the other.
Deadly. Lethal. Straight to the point. That was the style of the knights: avoiding wasted energy in long battles, because even if their bodies surpassed normal humans thanks to years of training, they were still human. Winning with as few movements as possible was always the best strategy.
"Enough. Stop," Vincent shouted at the perfect moment. The swords halted just centimeters away from their targets.
Ron and Hermione, who were watching through the mirror, were left open-mouthed. Ron let out a "Brilliant" without being able to contain himself, while Percy nodded as if he had seen this before.
Mark approached the ring with the mirror in hand, allowing Vincent to greet the children warmly with a kind smile. Adrien inclined his head respectfully. Dorian greeted them as well, though with a smile that never reached his eyes; something entirely normal for him.
There was a reason Mark always called him "the man behind the fake mask."
Mark quickly summarized the situation, though still including all the important details. Now that the elder was present, he would surely offer better information than Adrien.
"Nicolas Flamel," Vincent murmured as he nodded, like someone who already knew that name well. Then he looked directly through the mirror at Harry and Percy. "Are you certain?" he asked once more.
"Yes," they all replied.
"Nicolas Flamel… a legendary alchemist. His name has been known for more than six hundred years. Many keep an eye on him; they don't like him stepping into certain territories, since he is the oldest known wizard still alive today. Now that I think about it, he was here with his wife around six years ago," Vincent began, mentally reviewing what he remembered. "The most important thing, and what he is best known for, is what made him immortal. Or almost. He created something truly dangerous and extremely sought after: the Philosopher's Stone. An item that grants immortality and great wealth. I don't know how accurate everything is, but if a six-hundred-year-old man is still wandering around, I suppose it works well enough."
"So what's at the school… is it the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, shocked.
At that moment, Mark made a slightly tense and confused expression, which immediately caught the attention of the three knights present: Adrien, Dorian and Vincent himself.
"With that, you have the information you wanted. Now," Vincent said with a serious expression as he looked at Percy and Harry. "If you only want this information out of curiosity, I don't mind. But if you intend to get into trouble… and worry your mother…" Vincent didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was perfectly clear.
The old man treated them like his own grandchildren. And he would have no hesitation about restraining them for their own safety.
Vincent's dangerous aura was so strong it felt even through the mirror, making the four children stiffen. Ron and Hermione, who didn't know him at all, turned pale at the intense sense of threat.
"Good," the elder said with a gentle smile that completely contrasted with the aura from moments earlier. "Now go to bed. I'm sure you have a long trip home tomorrow." After that, he gestured for Mark to end the call.
Once the four children disappeared from the mirror, Vincent's expression turned serious and he looked at Adrien. "Investigate everything thoroughly," he ordered.
Adrien nodded before heading out.
Then Vincent looked at Mark. "You too. It's time for you to go out and take a few rounds through Diagon Alley," he added firmly.
Mark nodded deeply.
Lastly, his eyes landed on Dorian. "Switch your shift with Gema."
Dorian slightly furrowed his brows. "Are you sure? I don't think she—"
"You'll be the one dealing with her anger anyway," Vincent said with an almost amused smile before walking away calmly.
Dorian let out a tired look, resigned to his fate. He had no choice but to accept what his grandfather had ordered.
Mark, on the other hand, smiled faintly, anticipating the chaos waiting for Dorian.