[34] Debts of the Past

The Philosopher's Stone's energy had been successfully extracted. Salazar Slytherin's books contained knowledge lost for centuries. Hall had only had time to imprint a few into his memory, but they were enough.

Hall returned to his dormitory, retrieved the now-empty Stone, and brought it to the common room.

The common room fireplaces were all interconnected — you just needed the password. Like a phone number, if you dialled correctly. One-way only, though.

He knew Dumbledore's and Snape's.

"Angelica." The flames flickered. "Professor! Help!"

"Sour Popcorn." Another flicker. "Professor! Help!"

Hall coughed twice, arranged his expression into panic, and waited.

The broken rat lay on a nearby table, covered by a cloth. The empty Stone sat beside it.

Two flames erupted. Dumbledore and Snape stepped out.

"You'd better have something to say, or you'll be cleaning this common room for the rest of the year." Snape smelled of potions — he'd probably been experimenting with the snakeskin.

"Professor, Headmaster. I found a map that shows people's names." Hall opened the Marauder's Map and placed it before them. "I saw this — and I —" He shuddered for effect.

Snape's pupils dilated.

Dumbledore's gaze flickered. He took the map and zoomed in on their location. Several names appeared. Albus Dumbledore. Severus Snape. Henry William.

And a name that should have been dead for years.

Peter Pettigrew.

"Dumbledore —" Snape's expression turned grim.

Dumbledore looked toward the table. The cloth-covered lump was clearly not a person.

"I covered it. I was scared," Hall said.

The two exchanged a glance. Dumbledore moved closer and lifted the cloth.

"The Philosopher's Stone?!"

"A rat?" Snape's voice dripped with disgust.

Stolen story; please report.

Hall knew he would need help to return what they had taken.

"Henry, we need to take these two things back. May we borrow the Marauder's Map for a while?"

Dumbledore noticed the rat. It was missing a finger from its right paw.

"Professor, is that the Philosopher's Stone? The one that grants immortality?" Hall asked innocently.

"Oh, yes. Immortality is alluring, but it can also drive people mad."

Dumbledore picked up the Stone. Something felt off. It looked the same, but the texture wasn't right.

Hall scratched his head. Scabbers stole it. If anyone should be questioned, it was the rat.

Dumbledore and Snape took Scabbers and the Stone. They noticed the injuries on the rat's legs � limp and lifeless.

Dumbledore frowned but said nothing.

As for Sirius Black � Dumbledore wouldn't let one of his best students rot in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit.

Hall returned to his dormitory. Helena had eaten and drunk her fill. She was sprawled on his pillow, her body coiled lazily, with small biscuits beside her that the house-elves had made.

Hall opened a drawer and took out a crystal bottle no bigger than his palm. It looked more valuable than any potion bottle � and it was. An alchemical crystal bottle. Inside, something small sat in depths that seemed endless.

A thick white mist shimmered with golden light.

Hall held it up and shook it gently. The mist swayed.

"Thank you, Salazar Slytherin."

While Snape and Dumbledore dealt with the rat, Hall found he could not sleep.

Snape and Dumbledore went to deal with Scabbers.

Hall was wide awake, his mind full of potion recipes. He grabbed Harry's cloak, wrapped Helena around his arm, and left for the Room of Requirement.

He'd stored a large quantity of herbs there. For rare materials, he had to apply to Professor Snape first. But since learning the Disillusionment Charm, Hall often ventured into the Forbidden Forest alone. He only gathered from the edges, but it was enough.

The forest was fertile. Hall even planned to plant a small plot there � grow his own ingredients. Of course, he wasn't worried about Hagrid finding out. Hagrid paid no attention to herbs. Hall had practically turned the forest's edge into his personal garden without the gamekeeper noticing.

Professor Snape had noticed, though. He reminded Hall not to overdo it and to leave room for the plants to grow.

Hall set up his cauldron and followed the procedure step by step. At the final step, he carefully opened the crystal bottle and chanted the extraction incantation. A single thread of energy flowed into the simmering cauldron.

He'd researched the Philosopher's Stone thoroughly. It was an artificial red stone, imbued with immense magic. It could create elixirs of immortality and turn any metal to gold. Some sources said the elixir worked by transforming necrotic tissue into new cells.

Squibs had magical genes but couldn't generate their own magic. What if he could reset the part of a Squib's body that produced it?

That was why Hall had been so determined to use the Stone.

After three clockwise stirs, a faint pink wisp rose from the cauldron. He removed the rod. The smoke dissipated, revealing a pale blue potion with a delicate, pleasant fragrance.

The amount was small � barely enough to fill a fingernail-sized bottle.

If it worked � if it truly restored a Squib's magic permanently � then ten thousand Galleons would be reasonable.

Now all he needed was a test subject. That task fell to Snape. Hall hated dealing with logistics.

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