What is His Goal?

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As Harry pondered the implications, he couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. The break-in at Gringotts, the secretive nature of the third-floor corridor, and now the mention of Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone – it all pointed to a convergence of events that Hogwarts, with its ancient walls and hidden secrets, seemed to be at the center of.

Looking at Hagrid, Harry ventured cautiously, "Philosopher's Stone." The mention of the stone had an immediate effect. Hagrid's eyes widened like saucers, a look of panic flashing across his face as he realized the depth of Harry's inquiry.

"Oh, Harry, I've gone an' said too much," Hagrid mumbled, his usual booming voice reduced to a nervous whisper. He shuffled uncomfortably, his gaze darting around the hut as if expecting the walls to start whispering secrets. "It's jus'... Dumbledore's orders, see? To keep it safe from... from You-Know-Who and takes his eyes away from Flamel." He paused, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized the implications of his admissions. "I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that." His large hands fluttered in distress, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. "Yeh have to promise me, Harry, not to go lookin' for it. It's too dangerous."

Harry nodded, more to calm Hagrid down than anything else. "I promise, Hagrid. I'm just trying to understand what's happening."

Nigel, who had been silent for a while, couldn't resist chiming in. "Well, well, Master Harry. Uncovering secrets with the finesse of a bull in a china shop, I see. Perhaps we should start a detective agency – Potter and the Invisible Partner. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at Nigel's suggestion, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Maybe after we figure out this mess, Nigel. For now, we've got a bigger mystery on our hands."

Hagrid, still looking quite distressed, hastily ushered Harry towards the door. "Yeh need to head back to the castle, Harry. It's not safe to be pokin' around in things like this."

Harry rose to leave, his thoughts a whirlwind as he navigated the path back to Hogwarts. "You were right, Nigel. Voldemort is alive." There was a weight to his words, a recognition of the gravity of the situation.

Nigel responded with a weary tone, "Indeed, he is. And it seems he's as ambitious as ever." There was no humor in his voice this time, only a shared concern over the implications of their discovery.

As Harry walked, he pondered the dual possibilities of Voldemort's interest in the Philosopher's Stone. "Is it the lure of eternal life he seeks, or is it the promise of unparalleled magical power? Either motive spells trouble, but understanding his aim might give us insight into how he thinks." Harry's voice was low, almost to himself, as he tried to untangle the knot of Voldemort's intentions.

Nigel mused, "A conundrum indeed. Voldemort's mind is a maze of dark corridors, each leading to its own brand of terror. Whether it's immortality or power, the end game is the same – domination and destruction."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, the gears in his mind turning rapidly. "Nigel, from what I've pieced together, the compelling zone around the room holding the Stone seems tailored for me. Yet, I'm unsure if it affects others similarly. For now, it's clear someone wants me there. Depending on their intentions, it's either a trap or a test, making me a pawn in their game—a role I'm not keen on playing."

Nigel responded with a touch of sarcasm, "And here I was thinking you enjoyed being the puppet of fate. Silly me." Harry couldn't help but crack a small smile despite the gravity of the situation. "I don't think I can keep the stone, even if I wanted to. But then, do I really want to be part of this?"

Nigel laid out the options with his usual flair, "Well, if Voldemort gets his hands on the stone, he'll be throwing a comeback party the likes of which the wizarding world has never seen. Stronger, possibly immortal, and with a grudge list topped by your name. On the flip side, there are the Peverell and Slytherin Vaults. If you're right about Voldemort being a contender for whatever's hidden there, then you're not just a pawn, Harry; you're a player, a forced one, but a player nonetheless."

Harry nodded, absorbing Nigel's words. "It's not just about the stone or the vaults, is it? It's about stopping Voldemort before he regains his power. I don't want to be part of this, but it seems like I don't have much of a choice."

Nigel, sensing Harry's resolve, added, "Exactly, Master Harry. You're in this, whether you like it or not. The question is, how do you play the game? Do you wait for Voldemort to make his move, or do you take the initiative?"

Harry paused, considering his options. "Taking the initiative means I need to learn as much as I can about the stone, the vaults, and Voldemort's plans."

Sighing, Harry walked into the Great Hall for lunch, his mind a maze of thoughts and theories. As he settled down, his gaze inadvertently drifted towards the staff table, where Professor Quirrell was seated. The professor seemed even more jittery than usual, his eyes scanning the room nervously as if expecting danger from every corner.

"Nigel," Harry mused quietly, "why would Quirrell try to knock me off my broom? Could he be working with You-Know-Who? That attack on my mind during my first day... it's clear Quirrell is not as simple as he appears."

Nigel, always ready with a sharp retort, replied, "Ah, Master Harry, diving headfirst into the world of conspiracy theories, are we? Next, you'll be suggesting he's moonlighting as a Dark Lord's henchman. Oh wait, you are."

Harry couldn't help but smile at Nigel's attempt to lighten the mood, even as his mind worked overtime. "It's all too coincidental, Nigel. His nervous demeanor, the attack during the match, and now, his near-obsessive interest in the forbidden corridor. It all points to something sinister."

Nigel, feigning a gasp, said, "You mean to say our dear stuttering professor might have a dark side? Shocking, absolutely shocking. And here I was thinking he was just afraid of his own shadow."

Ignoring Nigel's sarcasm, Harry mused to himself, "But what's Quirrell's game here? If he's in cahoots with Voldemort, why the rush to get rid of me? He's had plenty of chances, especially considering the amount of time I spend lurking around less frequented parts of the castle. They must be after the Stone, prioritizing it over me. So, why attempt something as bold as knocking me off my broom during a match? Unless, of course, he assumed I wouldn't actually get hurt, what with all the professors around. Maybe causing a scene was his way of diverting attention from the third-floor corridor."

Nigel, always ready to add his two cents, responded with a tone dripping with irony, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. It seems our Professor Quirrell is playing a game more complex than Gobstones. And you, Master Harry, might just be the piece he's underestimated."

Harry nodded to himself, considering Nigel's point. "It makes sense in a twisted sort of way. If Quirrell is working with Voldemort, and they believe I'm a threat or an obstacle to getting the Stone, then putting me in danger serves multiple purposes. It tests the waters, seeing how protected I am and potentially removes me from the equation, all while keeping the focus away from their true goal."

Nigel, his voice tinged with mock horror, exclaimed, "But Master Harry, are you suggesting that our stammering professor could be the main villain in disguise? That's almost as shocking as finding out that chocolate frogs can't really hop."

Harry rolled his eyes, as he said, "I suppose we'll need to keep a closer eye on him, then. And by 'we,' I mean me, since you're not exactly equipped for stealth operations."

"Ah, but my dear Master Harry, you forget – I am equipped with the sharpest weapon of all: a razor-sharp wit. And, as they say, the pen is mightier than the sword... or in this case, the sarcastic comment mightier than the cloak of invisibility."

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