a/n: finally a semblance of plot divergence. sorry there's not a lot of it in the first year but it comes later don't you worry!!

"Lila! Can I talk to you for a second?"

Harry ambushed me on my way into the common room, looking eager but also apprehensive. I wondered what could be on his mind.

"Sure," I glanced at Hermione who had accompanied me inside. "Here?" I asked.

Harry glanced between myself and the incoming Gryffindors nervously. "Er, later tonight. Just you."

Hermione walked away wordlessly, and I stared after her, worried. This couldn't be what she thought it was, could it? Even so, I'd explain to her later. I would reject Harry over her any day of the week, and I hoped she knew that.

"Sure," I agreed. "After everyone's gone, then?"

"Sure," Harry replied.

Hermione hardly spoke to me for the rest of the evening, seeming very preoccupied with the book I had gotten her for Christmas. We ate dinner in a tense silence. Well, the three of us. Ron seemed perfectly normal, digging in to his turkey leg with great gusto.

"Are you planning on finishing that?" He asked with his mouth full. I shook my head and pushed my plate of untouched peas over. He dug in.

Later that night, Harry and I sat awkwardly on the couch waiting for the other Gryffindors to go to bed. It didn't take long — everyone was tired from traveling. Only Hermione and Ron hung back with us. Ron said something quietly to Harry and patted him on the back before walking away. Hermione reluctantly followed.

Once they had left it was just us, and Harry seemed eager to speak. I braced myself for the worst. What if all of our hard work was undone because I didn't return his feelings? What if Hermione didn't want to speak to me anymore? What if—

"I saw my parents," he said. My thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"Your — how?" I asked.

"In a mirror," Harry explained. "Dumbledore told me it shows what you most desire, and I saw them standing behind me and smiling."

His eyes became distant, as if he were seeing them again, and I could feel my heart give a little pang of sadness.

"How'd you come across this mirror?" I asked, and Harry explained it all: the invisibility cloak (invisibility cloak!) he'd gotten for Christmas, sneaking out alone, then with Ron, and then alone and accidentally finding Dumbledore there.

"You could have gotten into serious trouble," I exhaled. "I'm glad you weren't expelled."

"Well, that's besides the point," Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore said he'd be moving the mirror soon, but I wanted to ask if you'd like me to show you."

I stared. "What? Why?"

"So you can see your mum."

I felt a twist in my chest. I did want to see my mother, but at the same time I thought it might ruin me. All I knew of her were stories from when I was little and still, unmoving pictures. I'd rather spend my life wondering than get a taste and have that be all I could get.

Even then, how could I know seeing my mother would be my deepest desire? I had a feeling that whatever it really was would just disappoint me.

"It's probably best that I don't." I told him, trying to hide my shame. "I — I don't think I could handle just the glimpse of her."

Harry seemed surprised, but he quickly refocused, nodding along. "I understand. That's what Dumbledore told me too. Something about dreaming and forgetting to live."

"Well, he is known to be quite wise, though I won't believe it until I meet him myself," I stood, brushing off my skirt. "I would listen to him if I were you, Harry. Try not to think about it. And don't sneak out again — it could be Snape this time instead of Dumbledore. He won't be quite so kind."

Harry took a deep breath. "Alright. Goodnight, Lila."

"Goodnight, Harry."

What I'd said about Snape reminded me of our research on whatever the Potions teacher seemed to be after (Harry had told us about Snape trying to get past fluffy while we had tea at Hagrid's). I remembered Nicolas Flamel and wondered what other resources I could use to seek out information on the elusive alchemist.

Unfortunately, as more and more assignments were piled upon us, we had less and less time to do outside research. At a certain point, I gave up on books and started to talk to other people. The Ravenclaw first years I spoke to didn't know much else besides what we did, and neither did the Hufflepuffs. Unfortunately, I had to resort to the last option.

"Malfoy," I whispered. He ignored me. We'd hardly spoken since returning to Hogwarts. He'd only grown more rude to my friends and myself and I'd grown less patient with him.

"Malfoy," I whispered again, louder. He finally looked up, glaring daggers.

"What is it, Mudblood?" He scoffed. I blinked.

"That's creative," unfazed, I continued. "Would you happen to know of a Nicolas Flamel?"

"Never heard of him," he scrutinized me. "Why?"

I smiled mysteriously. "If I told you, they'd have my head."

This just seemed to aggravate him. "Who would?"

"Don't worry about it," I grinned. "Now how about those roots? Seems to me like they need dicing before I can measure them for the cauldron."

"I was getting to that," he grimaced at me and then at his untouched roots. "You're distracting me."

"Yes, I know I'm enticing," I smirked. "Enrapturing even."

He groaned and started to chop the roots with vigor. "Has anyone ever told you that you're obnoxious?" He slid over the pestle he had been withholding of crushed berries, and I caught it before it could slide off the edge of the table.

"You tell me every day, Malfoy," I hummed. "How could you forget?"

"If anyone thinks you're enticing, it's Thomas," Malfoy scowled at me. "You've been ogling each other all class."

"Ogling" wasn't the word for it. We'd been making eye contact and having secret conversations across the classroom. Ever since we got back I'd walked with Dean to lunch and to classes. Hermione and I were fine, but she hadn't seemed to fully believe me when I told her the story of the mirror.

I rolled my eyes at Malfoy's accusation. "We're only friends."

"He's probably just using you to bring up his lackluster grades," Malfoy gave me a look.

"That's quite funny, because he said the same thing about you," I glanced at him provisionally before looking back down to the page. "I'd always wondered why you'd taken an interest in me."

"Is that really what you think?"

I looked up, surprised. He sounded hurt, but his expression was rather cross. "You think I was just using you? That's why you're avoiding me?"

"Well it hasn't seemed like you've been actively seeking me out either, Malfoy," I felt somewhat guilty. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that—"

"You don't trust me," Malfoy cut in, rolling his eyes. "I know you don't. I'm sure Thomas is so much easier to trust because you're all buddy buddy in Gryffindor and he actually likes your friends."

He had a point. I pursed my lips, but said nothing.

"Whatever," he said finally. He looked down at his roots again and began to chop them with sudden aggression. "I'll just finish these roots. I liked this better when we weren't speaking anyway."

Right, sure. I thought bitterly.

"Go on, then," I said. We didn't talk to each other for the rest of the class.

Afterwards, I made my way to the library for our break, wishing to spend some time alone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off to the common room. Deciding I'd rather not speak to another Slytherin, I took one of the titles I hadn't read yet and skimmed through it, looking for the word "Flamel."

"I figured you'd be here."

I jumped at the voice.

"Did you follow me here?" I asked, midway between amused and irritated.

"No, I just figured you'd be here," Malfoy repeated as he scowled at me. "Not like you'd be anywhere else. Why do you need to know about Nicolas Flamel?"

"No reason," I flipped through the pages disinterestedly.

"Why won't you tell me?"

I didn't answer.

"Is it because you don't trust me?"

My amusement faded away.

"Could you stop it with that! I never said I didn't!" I snapped the book shut, annoyed. As if Malfoy hadn't been a distant git himself. He was acting like I was the only one giving the other the silent treatment.

"Well, you never said you did," he retorted. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing! It's you that's the problem!" I said, so angry I didn't think about it. "You've been so horrible to everybody lately. It's like you came back worse than usual."

"You're all the same, aren't you?" He fired back. "I should have known I was making a mistake by talking to you, you lawless mudblood filth."

The name stung more when he said it the second time, even when I knew it shouldn't bother me.

"I should have too," I stood and began to march away. "I really thought I was smarter than that."

I left the library fuming. Usually following my intuition is the right thing to do, but in this case I was wrong. I should have listened to everyone else. Why did I feel guilty? It was Malfoy that was the prick, not me.

I spotted Neville and Dean in the corridor on the way back to the common room. I sucked the tears back in and waved. I was learning more and more each day that Dean was an angel. I was relieved to see him.

"What were you doing in the library?" Dean asked me. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder for emphasis.

"Homework." I lied.

"I'll assume you won't let me copy?"

"No, Dean," I laughed. He laughed too. It was like a miracle, I instantly felt better.

"I'm just kidding. Neville and I were just on the way to return his book on Herbology," Dean patted the boy on the shoulder. "He finished it so fast I don't even know that it's eligible for return yet."

Neville smiled bashfully. "It is my favorite class."

"I wish it could be mine," I laughed. Professor Sprout hadn't seemed to like me very much after I mutilated her plants.

"But you're so great at every other class," Neville protested.

"I suppose we can't all be perfect," I smiled. "I'll let you two get to the library, then."

"Well, actually—" Dean said, then suddenly stopped himself. "Actually, never mind. It's probably not a good time—"

He dropped his eyes to the floor and shifted uncomfortably. Suspicious.

"Sure it is, go ahead," I said expectantly. He said nothing.

Neville cleared his throat. "I'll just go return this. I'll meet you in the common room."

Dean appeared relieved for the distraction. "Alright. Thanks, Neville."

Neville nodded and he walked away towards the library, leaving the two of us alone in the corridor. I was excited. What sort of secret did he have, and why was he so nervous about it? My heart was racing. We walked together through the corridor in silence for a little while before he spoke.

"Lila, you're brilliant," he said. "And I'm sure you get that a lot but — I think you're really brilliant."

Not sure where he was going with this, I nodded. "Thank you, Dean. You're rather extraordinary yourself."

He crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling, then the floor, anywhere but at me. Suspicious.

"Thank you, Lila, but that's not what I'm saying," he cleared his throat. "I think you're incredible. I've never known anyone like you."

I chuckled. "Dean, if this is about the homework the flattery will get you nowhere—"

"Lila, I fancy you."

I almost stopped walking.

"Excuse me?"

We stared at each other for a while. I felt as if my heart had stopped beating and sped up at the same time. He didn't say anything, only occasionally glancing at me expectantly.

"I don't know what to say," I blinked. "Dean, you've been the most spectacular friend but I just—"

"Don't see me that way," he finished my thought with a small smile. "That's okay. It's sort of what I expected, anyway."

"Then why'd you take the chance?" I asked him quizzically.

"Because it'd kill me if I didn't," he shrugged. "I had to get it off of my chest." He patted me on the shoulder. "You've been a spectacular friend as well, Lila. That's why I like you so much."

His smile grew to a grin. I realized we had reached the portrait hole. I returned his smile, though I was still so very confused, and we walked into the common room together. I pieced together the information in my head. Seamus' hints; the looks, the nudges. How many people knew? Did everyone?

"Lila!" I was startled from my thoughts by Ron's voice. "We have something important to tell you! Sorry Dean, we'll give her back I promise—"

I felt myself being yanked away by the elbow into one of the corners of the common room. I looked at Dean helplessly and gave him an apologetic smile. He waved, and I waved back.

"Are you even listening?"

I had not been. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, it's been a bit of a day for me—"

"Snape's refereeing the next match," Harry said. This brought my attention to the conversation very quickly.

"What? But that's unfair, he'll never let Gryffindor win—"

"Not only that, but that means Harry's in danger," Hermione said.

"Snape doesn't even know the first thing about Quidditch," Ron said irritably.

I tried to reply, but I was interrupted by a bout of laughter from the common room. Neville was lying on the floor, and I figured he had tripped. Then I noticed he couldn't move his legs to stand. Hermione ran over to perform the countercurse and helped him up.

"What happened?" She asked him.

"Malfoy." I frowned. Hermione looked at me, then to Neville. He nodded. I realized I'd left a very angry Malfoy in the library for an unsuspecting Neville to walk in on. I should have warned the poor boy.

"I met him outside the library," he said, shaking. "He said he'd been waiting for someone to practice on."

"Report him!" Hermione demanded. "Tell Professor McGonagall!"

Neville shook his head. "I don't want anymore trouble."

"He's used to walking all over people, you should give him a piece of your mind," Ron said.

"He deserves much more than a talking to, if you ask me," I said grimly.

"Don't tell me I'm not brave enough to be a Gryffindor, Malfoy already did," Neville barely managed. He looked as if he were about to cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said surely. "That's why the Hat put you in Gryffindor, while Malfoy's in stinking Slytherin."

This seemed to cheer Neville up. Dean walked over to him and took a chocolate frog out of his pocket. He handed the candy to him and Neville accepted it graciously.

"I'm sorry for leaving you back there," Dean frowned. "We should have waited. I'd have hexed Malfoy into next week if I'd known."

"It's alright," Neville said awkwardly. "Thanks for the frog. Do you want the card?"

There was a sudden movement in the stillness when Harry rushed over and snatched the card from his hand, reading the back as we retreated back to our corner, confused. I watched his eyes grow wide.

"This is him!" He exclaimed. "I knew I'd read about him somewhere—"

"We already know he worked with Dumbledore," I said. "And that he's an alchemist—"

"Who's we?" Ron raised an eyebrow. Hermione and I shared a look. We forgot to tell Ron.

"I think I know exactly what we need," Hermione said excitedly. "Stay there!" She rushed up to the girls dorms and returned with an enormous book. "I never thought to look in here!" she whispered. I recognized the book from one of our trips to the library. She had hardly ever wanted to put it down. As much as I loved books, each page seemed to be a wall of text and I wondered how she could possibly read that while keeping her sanity, much less find such enjoyment in it. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron faintly. Hermione shushed him and began frantically flipping pages, mumbling key words to herself. Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

She seemed to find what she was looking for, as she jumped excitedly. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" Ron asked. Hermione ignored his tone and read where she had placed her finger.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

My eyes lit up. I remembered reading about the Stone as well. Of course! That's why they were trying to keep it so protected. It was a very dangerous object in the wrong hands. Ron and Harry, however seemed to be rather confused.

"The what?" they chorused.

"Honestly, you two," I rolled my eyes. "Read where her finger is."

I watched their eyes follow the words on the page, and saw their faces morph into surprise.

"See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Stone! I bet Flamel 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 said all of this rather quickly, almost in one breath.

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

"Let's take a step back," I said suddenly. Something wasn't adding up. "We're sure that Snape's after the Stone? What's our evidence?"

They all stared at me blankly.

"He tried to kill Harry, Lila," Ron reminded me.

"Sure, but what's Harry got to do with the Stone?" I replied. I was met with quizzical silence — nobody seemed to have an answer for that.

"I think we can all agree that Snape is — for lack of better terminology — a miserable wanker," I reasoned. "What good would living forever do for him? If anything I feel like he'd want to die sooner."

"I'm not so sure," Harry said. "Maybe he's getting it for someone else?"

"But then the other person would do it," Ron said. "Snape's not the kind of person to be handing out favors."

"What if the other person can't get to it?" Hermione mused. "Maybe they can't get into the school?"

Again, we sat stumped. In the silence, I realized the common room was empty. Harry seemed to recognize this as well.

"This is making my head hurt," he shook his head. "Let's go to bed, see if we can think up any new leads in the morning."