Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxxxiii. the crack of an egg

For a man the Gryffindor quartet thought weak and skittish, Quirrell must have been braver than they perceived. The weeks following the encounter Lyra had intruded upon, he seemed to be getting more pale and much thinner, but it appeared that he had yet to expose the information Snape desired.

Each time they passed the third-floor corridor, Lyra, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still inside, growling. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which indicated to the group that the Stone was still safe and undiscovered. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging smile of sorts, Ron started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter, and Lyra had even offered to assist the man after lessons, despite the pain she felt behind her right ear whenever he was too near.

Her scar that no one except her knew about was residing there — behind her right ear, hidden from sight.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Philosopher's Stone. She had begun formulating and drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same. Even Lyra, who had already been doing the same as Hermione, had been getting more irritated by the girl's persistence.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"'Mione, I think we let them decide. If they fail, it'll be their problem — not ours," said Lyra, resting her head against her open Charms book.

"I agree with Ly, let us do what we want. And, we're not six hundred years old like Flamel," Ron reminded Hermione. "Anyways, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me . . . "

"'Mione, I know you. You'll get straight 'O's without even trying," Lyra reassured.

Unfortunately for Harry and Ron, the professors seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione and Lyra, but Lyra was less demanding. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood to Lyra, or Lyra practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work without too much aid from the girls.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Lyra was busy rereading her copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble, something Hermione, Harry, and Ron were making her read because she would be alone with Snape during her private lessons. Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until Ron made mention of their favorite gamekeeper — "Hagrid!" said Ron. "What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got the attention and interest of the four at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"