The next day, George and Fred delivered the magical notebooks to the Heads of House early, per Loren's instructions. Though Loren hadn't told them the exact reason, the two were sharp enough to piece together what was going on. They had friends in every House, and those Slytherins had first approached them as well, trying to rope them into the homework-cheating racket—mainly to test Loren's attitude.
By now, anyone with a little clout at school knew George and Fred stood behind Loren. Some Ravenclaws even called them "the dogs at the Lion King's side." The twins took the title not as shame but as honor; if Loren hadn't disliked it, they would have embraced being "dogs."
They knew the stakes. The workbook project was pushed by Loren himself; as his little brothers-in-arms, they weren't about to sabotage it. After they'd refused, they immediately reported everything to Loren, and he'd told them to leave it be and let events play out. With Loren's tacit permission, the copying only grew bolder.
Loren had known the moment workbooks hit the market, cheating would follow. After more than a decade of school in his previous life, he knew the drill. The reason he hadn't stepped in was simple: let the fire blaze higher so the professors could see the true scale—then they'd put their backs into putting it out.
After the Heads received the notebooks, nothing seemed to happen. Hogwarts students reveled in the joy of vacation approaching. Only Loren knew it was the calm before the storm.
That day, while Loren was working in the Room of Requirement, a message came from Rona: Harry had dragged Ron and Neville to Hagrid's hut. Loren stopped what he was doing, grabbed something from his workbench, and left the castle at a quick clip for the Black Lake training grounds.
He sat down by the lake, pulled out a magical book delivered by a house-elf from Dumbledore's side, and started leafing through it. A few minutes later, Neville was still pacing nearby. Loren had to speak first.
"Neville, you've been circling for ages. What is it?"
Neville seemed to make up his mind, hurried over, and blurted, "Loren, can you sell me an alarm clock that records voices, like the ones you gave the other students?"
Loren stared at him for a few seconds, until Neville grew uneasy. "You lot really thought this through. Aren't you afraid the three-headed dog Fluffy will go berserk if it hears Professor Snape's singing?"
Neville suddenly realized the recorded alarm would play in Snape's voice. The image of Snape singing sent a chill down his spine. Then, in the next heartbeat, Neville straightened, voice trembling. "Even if it goes berserk, I—we have to protect the Philosopher's Stone."
Loren rolled his eyes and sighed. "Neville, I told you I know the ins and outs of this. And prying information from big-mouthed Hagrid is hard?"
Only then did Neville recall Loren had said he knew the whole thing's cause and effect but was forbidden to join in—and that he'd forbade Hermione from getting involved as well. Seeing Neville's brain stall, Loren didn't feel like talking anymore. He tossed him a music box, waved him off, and Neville, sensing Loren's impatience, said a polite "thanks" and ran.
Once Neville was gone, Loren pinged Hermione through the notebook and asked her to come to the Room of Requirement—there was a good show to watch.
Neville rushed back to the dorm clutching the music box and found Ron alone. "Did the recording alarm clock arrive?"
Ron had his own question. "Where'd you get something?"
"I found a music box. It should work," Neville said. He didn't mention Loren; the fewer words, the fewer mishaps.
As Neville set the music box down, Harry burst in. "Bad news—Professor Dumbledore's out. He went to the Ministry. And when I tried to tell Professor McGonagall that Snape's going after the Stone, Snape stopped me and threatened me about sneaking out at night."
"Looks like he's already onto you and gave you a warning," Ron said, steadying the panting Harry.
"What do we do?" Harry asked, crestfallen.
"It's fine. Don't forget our backup plan—we steal the Stone first," Ron said, brimming with confidence, pointing at Neville. "Neville got a music box. It'll let us get past Fluffy safely."
"When do we move?"
"Tonight, before anything else can happen. I still have the night-sneaking gear from the last time with Loren. With it, we'll be much safer," Ron said, confidence unfathomable.
Neville, holding the music box, wasn't as anxious as Harry. Thanks to a few things Loren had told him, he wasn't worried. He was calm—so calm he noticed something off about Ron. From what he knew, Ron wasn't the type to propose a plan like this… But Gran and Loren had both said this was a safe adventure. Neville decided not to meddle; he'd just tag along.
With the plan set and the other two packing gear, Neville tucked away the music box and opened his enchanted pocket. He began laying out the items Gran had prepared. She'd warned him only to open this pocket when necessary. One look at the kit told Neville the operation really would be safe.
In the Room of Requirement, a live feed floated before Loren and Hermione, showing the trio in their dorm. When Ron said, "Don't forget our Backup Plan—we steal the Philosopher's Stone first," Hermione shot Loren a skeptical look. In her mind, Ron had grown bolder since exams ended, but not that bold.
"I gave him a little nudge. Youth should dare," Loren shrugged, openly admitting he was stirring the pot. With Draco, the original driver of events, still stuck at home, Harry might not have felt the same urgency about guarding the Stone.
Hermione gave him a glare, then poured tea brought by a house-elf and nibbled a few pastries. Her stomach was grumbling; it was nearly dinner. Mid-bite, she froze, lifted her head stiffly, and asked, "Why is it so easy for you to watch them?"
"Harry, Ron, and Neville all carry alchemical tools I made. I'm a master alchemist; leaving backdoors in my own work is normal," Loren said without looking up, as if it were nothing.
Hermione flushed scarlet at once, thinking who knew what. "Relax. I didn't peek at you. With us, if I look, I'll look openly."
Seeing her grow even redder, Loren let it drop. He ate and, at the same time, contacted Peter in the small world. He had planned to test Dumbledore's depths himself; now he'd let the real Peter act while he puppeteered from behind, giving small nudges when needed.
Loren wanted Peter to follow the original outline and "revive" Senior Tom—then keep Tom in his own hand. With that, wouldn't those Death Eater families be his to toy with? Peter was perfect for the role, and with Loren in the shadows, he wouldn't be in danger.
Loren had been to 12 Grimmauld Place a few times—once when he first contacted the wizarding world, and once during the Christmas break—but neither mage-sight nor anti-magic scans could locate the Black townhouse. His guess: the Black ancestral home existed in a special spatial fragment; Number 12 was merely its outward manifestation, much like the shard-space where Hogwarts' house-elves lived.
You don't survive for hundreds of years as a pure-blood family without deep secrets.
He had Rona help Peter open a tiny passage leading to the upstairs rooms so Peter could slip through in rat form. With that done, Loren pulled out the book from the Black Lake and kept reading. Across from him, Hermione had finished eating and opened her magical notebook to read Loren's uploaded texts. Silence settled over the room.
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