After a moment, the voice of the Boy-Who-Lived, well-alive, exclaimed:
"Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick –"
"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," affirmed Dumbledore in his best grandfather-noble and powerful wizard voice. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."
The voice of her magical guardian had been without worry or anything approaching it. Alexandra grimaced. She had often wondered in the last months if the Stone placed in this infernal mirror had been a fake. Well, now she had a clue about the answer.
"Then who does? Sir, I –"
"Neville, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."
Judging by the silence which followed, Longbottom was evaluating where he was. It must have been near a pile of presents from fans and admirers, because the happy voice of the Professor explained shortly after that these were "Tokens from your friends and your admirers."
The headmaster continued in this cheerful and beaming voice, like if waking up in the infirmary after being unconscious was no big deal.
"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."
No surprise there, the Hogwarts rumour mill was terribly efficient and there had been too many witnesses.
"I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."
"How long have I been in here?"
"Three days. Mr Ronald Weasley and Mr Leo Black will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."
"But sir, the Stone –"
"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from the mirror, you broke the Erised in your fall. I arrived in time to prevent further damage, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."
"You got there? You got Leo's owl?"
"We must have crossed in mid-air. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you –"
That was one of the lamest excuses Alexandra had ever heard, and she had been forced to hear the ones of a certain Dudley Dursley during ten years. It was not quite to the level of 'Alexandra distracted me at the evaluation and that's why I have a bad mark, not because I passed my time playing video games', but it was coming close.
But Neville had not evidently noticed this poorly disguised lie, and simply answered.
"It was you."
"I feared I might be too late."
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the mirror and the Stone much longer –"
"Not the Stone, boy, you – the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed with the mirror."
Alexandra breathed in relief. No one had managed to examine the mirror for a long period of time, and so everyone believed the Stone was gone forever. Her actions had passed unnoticed. So far, so good.
"Destroyed?" said Neville in a distressed tone. "But your friend – Nicolas Flamel –"
"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" Asked Dumbledore, sounding quite happy the Boy-Who-Lived had discovered the link with the Alchemist, like if not an average wizard could not have done the same in two minutes.
"You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best."
That, for her, sounded like a second very poor lie. If the Junior Professor of DADA had said the truth, Dumbledore and Flamel were not likely to talk to each others for the next decade. Not unless the conversation also included insults and lethal curses. Destroying an object which granted immortality and ridiculous wealth was more or less the equivalent of magical sacrilege. The books she had read during her free time and discussions with Professor Flitwick had told her that much. Even if Flamel had created dozens of Stones in six hundred years of existence, she rather doubted having one destroyed was going to fill him with joy and gratitude.
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."
Or hunt you to the end of the world and dance on your grave, Alexandra thought. Still, it was possible Dumbledore would survive Flamel's wrath. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore could refugee himself behind the powerful wards of the school. But as the incident with the troll and the baby dragon had proven, no fortification was really perfect when magic was involved.
"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them."
Alexandra briefly asked herself if the Professor had been slammed against the walls too much when he was a child. While his speech was very much correct for a man as old as he, for children like Neville or herself it was completely stupid. In her own case, ten years at the Dursleys had shown her what lack of money could do: starvation, hunger, beatings and a lot of unpleasant things. This was not resisting to the lure of Sauron's Ring of Power; even Frodo and Sam enjoyed having good meals, a home upon their head and friends to joke with at the end of the day.
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