It was destined to be a sleepless night. Both dormitories kept their lamps burning and their voices low.
"So we've confirmed what Quirrell is after, right? That three-headed dog is guarding Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, and Quirrell wants to steal it so he can bring his master back. Did I get that straight?"
Anthony leaned in so close that Charlie had no choice but to plant a hand on his face and shove him away.
"Yes. Yes! Back up."
"Fine." Anthony retreated two steps and started pacing the length of the room.
"But what's the point of him doing it this way? If Professor Dumbledore already knows what Quirrell is planning, why not just move the Stone and arrest him?"
He stopped mid-stride, eyes lighting up. "Ohhh… is it because there's still no hard evidence? We need to get him something solid?"
Two palms smacked two foreheads at the exact same moment.
Anthony looked between Charlie and Hector, awkward. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
Charlie took a second to find the right words. "If something should be handled a certain way and it isn't, then something else is interfering with the decision."
"Like what?" Anthony pressed.
Hector answered. "Like this: we all know Dumbledore is the one person Voldemort fears most. All he would have to do is keep the Stone in his own pocket and Quirrell wouldn't dare make a move. Instead he's left it sitting somewhere obvious, practically inviting Quirrell to come take it. During that process Quirrell is going to reveal things Dumbledore needs to know."
Hector stood, pulled his chessboard from the desk, and set it on the floor. He flicked several pieces onto the board with a light toss.
"As my opponent, I know your goal is to take my king. My king stays right here. If you want him, you first have to deal with the queen and the pawns in front of him. And while you're doing that, you're going to have to give something up."
Anthony crouched opposite him. "So why is Dumbledore playing this particular game with Quirrell?"
"Because Dumbledore wants to take Quirrell's king too.
If both of them simply put their kings away and refuse to play, Dumbledore gains nothing either."
Anthony nodded slowly. He picked up the white king between two fingers and turned it over and over.
The little king looked irritated at the loss of dignity, but it didn't dare complain. The wizard holding it was clearly thinking hard.
If Dumbledore's king was the Stone… what was Quirrell's?
"No idea," both boys said at once. "But it's definitely tied to You-Know-Who."
They stood and put the board and pieces away.
Hector looked over at Charlie, who was still working at the desk. "So is the game almost over?"
Charlie glanced up, curious. "Why do you say that?"
"Because Quirrell is suddenly desperate for large amounts of Moonlight Chocolate. He even stopped bothering to buy it properly. He's using whatever's left to build strength for the final move, right?"
"Pretty much."
"Maybe during exams," Anthony said suddenly. "Every professor is busy, every student is stuck in one classroom after another. Nobody's going to notice him—assuming he can find someone else to proctor for him."
"True, every professor is busy," Hector said, "except Dumbledore." He shook his head, shooting down the idea.
"Anyway, we'll take it one step at a time. Question is… what can we actually do?" The thrill of figuring out the hidden game was real, but none of them seemed able to change a single piece on the board.
"You don't need to do anything," Charlie said. He extinguished the small burner and took a vial of blood-red essence from the drawer. "I'm not going to do anything either, so relax. If he likes my candy so much, I'll just give him some."
Hector nodded with a resigned smile. "I sincerely feel like you're lying to me… but I'll take it."
Anthony looked completely lost. "What does that mean? You think he's lying but you're fine with it?"
"It means I don't have the skills to stick my nose in. And neither—"
He gave Anthony a pointed look. Anthony's grin turned sheepish. "Yeah… fair enough. Me neither."
Still, he clapped Charlie on the shoulder without hesitation.
"But if you ever need help, just say the word. I won't hold back."
---
The next morning the planned suitcase housewarming party was postponed without discussion.
At breakfast in the Great Hall:
"Shame. We were supposed to clean the place up today—sweep, move desks, set up shelves."
"It's fine. After exams. This is better study time anyway."
"True. I'm heading to the library after this. You guys?"
"Library," Charlie agreed.
To Anthony and Hector, Charlie choosing the library felt off. By rights he should have been itching to finish his candy or dive back into alchemy and charms.
"I bet whatever you're doing in the library has nothing to do with studying."
Charlie only smiled, sharp and knowing.
By nine the corridors were already busy. With the holidays drawing closer, the younger wizards were growing restless.
As they passed the second floor they heard someone wailing.
The chocolate shop had vanished. No more Moonlight for focus, no more Dream for sleep. Both had become priceless this close to final exams.
Charlie even spotted a few older Ravenclaws who had clearly been eating the chocolates every single day. Cutting them off now was almost worse than killing them.
In the library they ran into Hermione, already seated with an armful of books and fully locked into study mode. She had arrived even earlier.
A quiet greeting, then they split up to find what they needed.
Charlie spent more than ten minutes walking the open shelves without success. Eventually he approached Madam Pince.
"Ma'am." He kept his voice low. She answered by pressing a finger downward. He dropped his volume another notch.
"I'm looking for books specifically on magical fire. Burning Charms, Fire-Protection Shields, Fiendfyre, that sort of thing. Fire is a major category of magic—there should be focused volumes."
Madam Pince considered for a moment. "The books you want exist, Mr. Wonka, but you'll need a professor's signature to borrow them. They're in the Restricted Section. As you said, fire is a broad category, and some of the magic inside is dangerous—unsuitable for younger students. Without a signature I cannot allow it."
"Oh." Charlie nodded, resigned. Of course. Fiendfyre.
"I was hoping there might be something a little more baby-friendly."
Madam Pince's quiet smile held a touch of dry humor. "When a wizard decides to put his research into a book, his first concern is expression—not who is best suited to read it."