"Good afternoon, everyone. What are you doing here?" Lewis walked over and waved at them.
Seeing another person arrive, Hagrid didn't look pleased—instead, he seemed annoyed.
Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, but Ron quickly grabbed her.
"We promised Hagrid, Hermione!" Ron said firmly. "We shouldn't tell anyone else about this."
"But this is Lewis Green," Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Isn't he our friend?"
Faced with his friends' attitudes, Harry felt extremely awkward.
What Hermione wanted to say was clearly about the secret shared between him, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid.
Without everyone's consent, Harry didn't know whether he should tell Lewis.
Seeing how secretive they were, Lewis immediately guessed what was going on—it had to be about Nicolas Flamel and that "little invention."
But their attitude annoyed him.
"Fine. I was willing to use my knowledge to help you, but since you don't want to say anything, I can only wish you all a happy holiday."
With that, he turned and headed straight toward Ravenclaw Tower.
"How could you treat him like that?"
Watching him leave, Hermione grew angry.
"Lewis is recognized as the best first-year student, and he's always in the library. People say he's read half the books there—maybe one of them mentions Nicolas Flamel!"
"And since the start of term, he's helped you more than once. Why are you so determined to keep this from him?"
Under Hermione's barrage of words, Ron was left speechless.
Harry also felt frustrated and guilty. He should have told Lewis the truth earlier, but because of Ron's attitude, he had hesitated.
Ron had always believed that the matter of the corridor and Nicolas Flamel was their own adventure.
If they told Lewis, he would probably solve everything himself—and then there would be nothing left for them to do.
Hermione bit her lip. "No, I'm going after him!"
Without waiting for Harry and Ron to react, she ran in the direction Lewis had gone.
But in the end, she was stopped by the eagle door knocker outside the common room.
That's right—Hermione couldn't answer its riddle.
It seemed the rumors about the eagle knocker were true.
For a thousand years, no one outside Ravenclaw had managed to enter its common room.
Perhaps this was why, despite possessing qualities of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, Hermione had been sorted into Gryffindor.
She was undeniably intelligent, but her strengths lay in memory, logic, and rational thinking.
What she lacked was something essential to Ravenclaw—
The ability to let her imagination soar freely.
Looking at the entire story, the one who truly embodied Ravenclaw's spirit was the so-called "Loony" Luna Lovegood.
Though she appeared eccentric and full of strange fantasies, her "madness" was closer to hidden wisdom.
If Hermione's intelligence allowed her to handle expected situations, Luna's insight enabled her to respond brilliantly to the unexpected.
As the saying goes, "Genius is 99% hard work and 1% inspiration."
But few remember the rest of that quote—
"That 1% inspiration is the most important part."
Unable to enter the Ravenclaw common room, Hermione felt disappointed.
But soon, she came up with another idea.
"Maybe I can wait for him in the library tomorrow. He's always there."
However, the next day, Lewis didn't go to the library—or even to the Great Hall.
After packing his belongings, he visited the Room of Requirement, then boarded the train back to London, leaving Hermione waiting in vain.
After arriving at the station, Lewis skillfully transferred to another route and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron.
At that moment, he sincerely wished he could use Apparition.
Being a wizard yet still having to squeeze onto public transport with Muggles felt… rather absurd.
Pushing open the tavern door, he stepped inside the familiar dim interior.
"Morning, Tom. I'm back."
Lewis walked straight to the counter and greeted Tom the innkeeper, who was polishing a glass.
"Lewis! You're back, lad!" Tom said with a hint of surprise.
He knew Hogwarts was on holiday, but he hadn't expected Lewis to show up here.
"What's this? Got addicted to the small rooms upstairs?" Tom joked.
Lewis shook his head and grinned confidently, placing nine coins on the counter.
"No. This time, get me a proper room. I've got money now—I'm staying for a while."
"Seems like you've changed quite a bit in just a few months," Tom said, looking him up and down.
From his correspondence with Hannah, he already knew about Lewis's performance at Hogwarts.
Becoming a recognized genius shortly after enrolling—
Given his talent, such changes weren't surprising.
"Alright then, I'll take care of you this time." Tom pulled out a key from a drawer, placed it in Lewis's hand, and returned two of the coins. "One week's stay. Consider it a discount for an old customer."
Taking the key, Lewis went upstairs and found Room 9.
Inside, there was a comfortable-looking bed, several polished oak furnishings, and a fireplace crackling warmly.
After putting away his belongings and placing Homer's cage on top of the wardrobe, he grabbed a box and went back downstairs.
In the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron, he took out his wand and tapped a few bricks in the wall.
Diagon Alley opened before him.
Despite the holiday season, the street was still bustling.
Christmas decorations hung everywhere, bells chimed constantly, and shops displayed festive goods. Wizards wandered about, dazzled by the variety.
Lewis couldn't help but feel puzzled.
These wizards didn't even believe in any religion—while others talked about Jesus and God, they swore by Merlin's undergarments.
So why were they celebrating Christmas?
Of course, he didn't expect to find an answer in Diagon Alley.
Carrying his box, he headed straight toward a second-hand shop.
The place was filled with worn-out wands, wobbly brass scales, and stained old cloaks.
It sold not only second-hand magical items but also used books.
Lewis had bought quite a few of his earlier supplies here.
But today—
This was where he was going to make money.
"Strackey! Come out and greet a customer!" Lewis called out as he reached the entrance.
"Coming, coming!"
Soon, a skinny old man with a cigarette between his fingers stepped out.
Strackey—full name Abraham Strackey—was a Jew.
He looked old, but his movements were surprisingly nimble.
According to him, he had once been a vampire hunter in his youth.
But as secrecy laws tightened and vampires were forced into hiding under wizard supervision, that profession had gradually disappeared.
During the two months Lewis had worked in Diagon Alley, when money was tight, he had gotten quite familiar with the old man.
Strackey usually liked to sit alone in his shop, smoking, unconcerned about whether anything might get stolen.
Seeing Lewis, he broke into an ugly grin.
"Well, well, if it isn't you again, kid. Back to buy more second-hand junk?"
"No," Lewis said, pushing the box forward.
"Quite the opposite."
"I'm here to sell."
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