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While Archer was troubled by his Animagus form, Professor McGonagall seemed to suddenly recall something.
"Archer," she said, her tone a bit serious, "I just remembered that Professor Dumbledore asked me to inform you he wishes to see you in the Headmaster's office at seven o'clock tonight. He has important matters to discuss with you."
Archer was briefly taken aback but quickly nodded. "Alright, Professor McGonagall. I'll be there on time."
Professor McGonagall gave a slight nod and quickly departed—not toward the castle, but in the direction of the Black Lake. Archer guessed she likely intended to find a quiet spot to continue enjoying the sun.
As for why Dumbledore wanted to speak with him, Archer couldn't figure it out.
Could it be because of his teaching performance? That didn't seem likely—student evaluations of his class had been positive. Even if his lessons were poor, wasn't Professor Quirrell a much worse benchmark?
...
At precisely seven o'clock in the evening, Archer stood in front of the Headmaster's office.
"..."
It was only then that he realized Professor McGonagall had forgotten to give him the password. He tried guessing several dessert names, hoping to get lucky.
"Cockroach Clusters? Licorice Wands? Milk Fudge? Fainting Fancies..."
"Coconut Ice!" a voice suddenly called out.
The stone gargoyle, hearing the correct password, slowly moved aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. Archer exhaled in relief and turned toward the voice.
It was Professor Flitwick, briskly approaching with a light step.
"Professor Archer!" Flitwick greeted in his high-pitched voice. "Did you also receive a summons from Professor Dumbledore?"
Archer nodded. "I did."
"So did I!" Flitwick said cheerfully. "Not easy getting up to the eighth floor. Maybe I should carry a broomstick around, haha."
"Wise choice, Professor," Archer replied with a chuckle.
They stepped onto the spiral stairs, ascending side by side.
"Have any other professors been summoned?" Archer asked, peering curiously at Flitwick's back.
"Oh yes," Flitwick said. "I passed Professor Plant Poison on the way. She was also summoned but mentioned she might be a little late."
...
When the two arrived at the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was already waiting.
However, it seemed that not everyone had arrived yet. Dumbledore conjured several chairs and gestured for them to sit.
Soon after, the room began to fill.
Hagrid, Professor Plant Poison, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Archer, and of course, Dumbledore himself.
"All right, everyone is here," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands gently. The murmuring subsided.
But Archer felt uneasy—as if someone was staring daggers into him.
He turned, and sure enough, found Professor Snape leaning back in his chair, arms folded, eyes coldly fixed on him.
"I don't believe everyone here should be involved," Snape said, shooting a glance at Dumbledore. "You know who I mean."
Archer raised an eyebrow. While he wasn't surprised Snape had targeted him, he hadn't expected him to say it so directly in front of everyone.
He hesitated, waiting to see if Snape would elaborate, but Dumbledore interjected.
"Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, "everyone in this room is someone I trust."
Then who isn't trustworthy? Archer thought, his mind drifting to a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Snape's face remained unreadable. He gave a cold snort and looked away, clearly disinterested in arguing further.
Archer had no desire to engage either. Professor Snape had a talent for speaking daggers when least expected. Archer had gotten used to it.
As all eyes returned to Dumbledore, the Headmaster cleared his throat and gave Hagrid a meaningful glance.
"Hagrid," he said, "please take it out."
Hagrid nodded, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small, worn bag, placing it gently on the table before Dumbledore.
Archer already had a strong hunch.
If that bag didn't contain the Philosopher's Stone, then what else could it be?
Sure enough, Dumbledore pulled from it a small, dark red, irregularly shaped stone.
"That is..." Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, her expression sharp.
"This," Dumbledore said without delay, "is the Philosopher's Stone. I've called you here today to help determine the best way to protect it."
The room fell momentarily silent.
Archer glanced around and noticed that many professors wore knowing expressions. Some had probably been briefed earlier.
"Professor Archer, do you have any ideas?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.
"Ah?" Archer looked up, momentarily startled. He replied almost instinctively: "Professor, I think it would be best if you carried the Stone yourself. I doubt anyone would dare try to take something from you."
Dumbledore paused, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion.
After a moment, he smiled and replied, "That won't do. I can't carry the Stone with me at all times, and it wouldn't be safe in anyone's possession—even mine."
He returned the Stone to the bag and set it down once more.
Professor McGonagall's brows furrowed deeply. She looked at Dumbledore and asked firmly, "Albus, you must already have a plan, don't you?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he looked around the room.
"Indeed," he said. "I've decided to place the Philosopher's Stone in a room on the fourth floor. I've already begun setting up basic enchantments there. But I need your help to reinforce them."
So that's it, Archer thought to himself. It seemed he had taken over Quirrell's original position in the timeline.
Clearly, Dumbledore had long suspected that Quirrell was up to something—or perhaps something even darker.
After all, for most professors, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts was one to avoid, not one to eagerly pursue.
Quirrell had willingly abandoned a safer post in Muggle Studies. That alone was a red flag.
But whether Dumbledore knew that Lord Voldemort was parasitic on Quirrell remained uncertain.
As Dumbledore finished speaking, murmurs began to circulate among the professors.
Hagrid leaned close to Archer and whispered, "Archer, I brought a Fluffy to Hogwarts. Want to come see? A real beauty—huge and strong! I plan to have it guard the Stone. What do you think?"
"That's great, Hagrid," Archer replied warmly.
"I've trained him well! He listens to music, y'know—puts him right to sleep."
Archer nodded, already starting to formulate his own contribution to the Stone's defense.
Just as he was lost in thought, Professor Plant Poison spoke up from across the room. "I can cultivate a set of poisonous vines," she said calmly. "Anyone not immune will be... discouraged."
Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up. "Brilliant, Professor Plant Poison! I'll add a series of enchantments—levitation traps, charm wards, perhaps a confusion maze."
"I will contribute too," said Professor Godric, seated with a dignified air. "A test of courage, one only the worthy may pass—something Godric Gryffindor himself would approve."
Dumbledore beamed at the enthusiasm in the room.
"I knew I could count on you all," he said. "Together, we'll make it so that no one—not even the cleverest intruder—can reach the Philosopher's Stone without facing great trials."
The meeting concluded, but Archer lingered a moment longer, mind buzzing with ideas.
He might not know all of Dumbledore's intentions, but he was sure of one thing:
A storm was coming.
And the plants he had been cultivating... might soon need to mutate again.
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