The next day at noon, the Great Hall was bustling, filled with the clamor of lunchtime and the aroma of food.
Stelle was focusing on using her spoon to sculpt the mashed potatoes on her plate into a miniature Pom-Pom, utterly oblivious to the gaze directed at her from the staff table.
“Miss Stelle,” a gentle voice spoke beside her.
Stelle looked up to find Professor Dumbledore standing beside the Hufflepuff table, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles twinkling with his usual kindly warmth.
“After lunch, if it’s convenient, would you mind coming up to my office?
I believe the flavor of a Lemon Drop might be a more suitable after-dinner sweet than mashed potatoes.” His tone was as casual as if he were inviting an old friend, but the spark in his eyes let Stelle know instantly that last night’s operation had been discovered.
She shifted slightly, but her face betrayed no surprise.
She simply nodded and answered calmly, “Alright, Professor.” She went back to her plate, finishing off her mashed-potato Pom-Pom in a few bites, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and under the slightly worried and curious gazes of her roommates, rose and left the Great Hall.
Climbing the spiral stone staircase, she came to the large stone gargoyle.
Before she could even speak, the gargoyle lazily leaped aside, as if it had already received its instructions.
The Headmaster’s office was much as she had imagined—filled with all sorts of whirring silver instruments, bookshelves piled high with volumes, and the portraits of past headmasters dozing on the walls.
But Dumbledore was not alone in the room.
Professor Severus Snape stood like a bitter shadow in a corner of the room, arms crossed, his greasy black hair curtaining his face.
His dark eyes locked onto her, filled with unvarnished displeasure, deep suspicion, and scrutiny.
The air felt exceptionally heavy with his presence.
“Ah, Miss Stelle, welcome.” Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a dish of colorful sweets before him.
He gestured for Stelle to sit in a comfortable armchair opposite him.
“Would you like one?
Personally, I recommend the Lemon Drops.” “Thank you, Professor,” Stelle said as she sat down, though she didn’t reach for the sweets.
She sat upright, her gaze directly meeting Dumbledore’s, and she also cast a glance at Snape, who stood like a frozen statue nearby.
“Miss Stelle,” Dumbledore said, joining his fingertips.
His tone remained gentle, but he got straight to the heart of the matter.
“Last night, something rather unusual happened in the castle.
The forbidden corridor on the fourth floor, and certain protective measures beneath it, were breached.” Snape let out a barely audible sneer, the hem of his robes fluttering though there was no wind.
Stelle blinked, her face showing a perfectly measured mix of recollection and frankness.
“Yes, Professor.
I really couldn’t sleep last night, so I went for a walk.” “For a walk?” Snape took a small step forward, his dark eyes boring into her.
“A walk that required you to disarm magical traps, defeat a troll, and even disturb the highest level of protective magic?” Stelle turned her head to look at Snape, showing no fear whatsoever.
“Professor Snape, I didn’t defeat the troll.
It charged at me on its own, and then got tripped by a stone.” She gestured, her movements carrying a slightly clumsy vividness.
“It was just quite large, so it made a bit of noise.” A muscle in Snape’s cheek seemed to twitch.
Dumbledore’s lips curved upward almost imperceptibly, and he raised a hand slightly to signal Snape to remain calm.
“Then, Miss Stelle, did you happen to find or take anything during your journey down there?” His eyes swept pointedly toward Stelle’s seemingly plain pocket.
Stelle naturally reached into her pocket, felt around, and pulled out a Elation Token, placing it on Dumbledore’s desk.
“Do you mean this?
I found it in one of the rooms last night,” she said in a natural tone, as if it really were just a little trinket she had picked up.
Dumbledore looked at the token, then at Stelle’s honest face.
He slowly reached into his own robes and pulled out an identical token, gently placing it beside the first one on the desk.
“A very interesting little thing, isn’t it?” Dumbledore said, his eyes scanning Stelle sharply.
“They seem to appear at the most unexpected times and places.” Stelle stared at the two identical tokens, paused for two seconds, and then nodded.
“Yes, Professor.
They have a knack for finding places.” “Then,” Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice still gentle but carrying an inescapable gravity, “aside from this token, did you take anything else?
Perhaps a stone?
A red stone that feels warm to the touch, and perhaps looked quite shiny to you?” The entire office fell dead silent.
Even the snoring from the portraits on the walls seemed to cease.
Snape’s gaze pressed down on Stelle like a physical weight.
Stelle blinked again, as if trying hard to remember.
Then, she reached into her pocket once more, rummaging around a bit longer this time.
Finally, she pulled out the Philosopher’s Stone, which looked as though fire was flowing within it, and casually handed it to Dumbledore like she was offering an ordinary pebble.
“Oh, you mean this,” she said flatly.
“I found it behind a mirror.
It was very shiny and felt quite warm, so I kept it.
Is it important?” Dumbledore: “…” Snape: “!!!” Seeing the Philosopher’s Stone handed over as casually as a piece of candy, even Dumbledore’s facial muscles twitched imperceptibly.
As for Snape, a look of pure disbelief washed over his pale face.
He stared fixedly at the Philosopher’s Stone—the very object that had driven countless men mad—lying just inches away.
Then he looked at Stelle’s utterly oblivious face.
His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but not a single word came out.
Only the sweet scent of Lemon Drops drifted silently through the office, blending with an air of absolute absurdity.