Chapter 53: Harry Potter : Chapter 52: Effects III
How Petty. But I could be petty too, in fact, I could do so without Riddle being even aware of it, if I was careful enough.
One of the Horcruxes he'd build one day was going to be a ring with the Resurrection Stone wasn't it?
...
And just like that, I knew what I was going to do during the Winter Holidays that Tom spent at Hogwarts: I didn't know what I'd use it for, or if I'd even get to use it, after all, I had no idea how much Death was an actual thing in this reality, but I was going to take away Gaunt's ring before Tom could discover of its existence.
Only because his actions had caused a minor annoyance to me.
"The solution would be in turning a single creature, one that you don't necessarily need to be able to replicate, nor one that you'd need to further your research, into something valuable."
Orion's voice buzzed in my ear, but while he wasn't wrong, after all, I'd obviously stumble upon many creatures that would be a dead-end, both magically and genetically speaking, I still wasn't hearing a solution that'd allow me to be independent while keeping up with my research.
Orion kept offering bland insights into my problem while I kept up with my demonstrative brewing, keeping track of the changing smells and colours contained by the cauldron that almost sang in delight under my care.
I had added the whole snail applying to it the same reversing-of-properties that had allowed me to turn the reflection of the moon into something that opposed the cursed nature of werewolf bites: in a matter of minutes, the concept of 'sluggishy slow' that the slug exemplified was turned into a catalyst.
"There we are." the brew turned into a silvery white mixture that let blue sparks in the air, and without hesitation, I transfigured two silver knives that I hadn't used for my demonstration in two glasses, one opportunely sized for my hand. I filled them both and handed the smaller one to the wide eyed Orion.
He took it while his eyebrows rose towards his scalp: "I hope you don't think that I'm going to drink this... whatever it is."
"Reasonable help in exchange for reasonable help." I spoke as I swirled my larger glass, the brew freeing blue sparks in the air that I knew should feel like sparkled water on my tongue, but my dark eyes never left the deep blue ones of the Black Heir.
"I first brewed the Moonshine months ago, but back then it took me a whole night, this is far less powerful, but it took me less than an hour." I grinned above the edge of the silver cup.
"Spectacular what changes can be wrought when one knows what he's doing, no?"
"Who'd decide what 'reasonable' means?" Orion kept the stick up his ass without even noticing, and I downed my drink with three deep gulps.
Sparks danced on my tongue while the warmth of the brew betrayed the crisp freshness synthesized from the ingredients, and a I after placing the empty cup on the nearest table, I turned once more towards Orion, who was looking at me like he had just noticed how absolutely mad I could go.
"We shall both agree on a case by case basis, for now, I'd like to try and teach you properly, if we succeed, well, we'll see what comes after won't we?"
The Black Heir found himself nodding in agreement despite his previous reticence: it was hard to not be impressed after the spectacle that I had just provided, and I nodded back just in time for a witch to enter without knocking: I was about to caustically remark on her presence when I noticed the badge on her breast.
"Rubeus Hagrid?" the Ravenclaw prefect that entered the room was a blonde girl with a smattering of freckles cast across her nose: "Professor Dumbledore is waiting you in his office."
What for? I raised an eyebrow and made to ask before the memory of my most recent scuffle flashed before my eyes, "Of course, I'll be there immediately."
Seeing that her message had been delivered, the prefect turned on her heel and left the room without even looking at Orion, who had tilted his head curiously.
"Of course, if you're expelled, nothing of what we agreed upon ill ever come to pass."
I scoffed in his direction as I grabbed my stuff: "Don't be a smartass, Orion."
While I left the room, my mind was already started to work on how I'd go about stealing the Resurrection Stone for myself.
...
The office of Albus Dumbledore was a small rectangular study located off of the first-floor corridor, to the right of a staircase ascending directly to the third floor.
A single, imposing desk dominated the whole space, illuminated by tall, leaded windows overlooking the green expanse of the Hogwarts Ground, while against the walls on either side of the room there were tall shelves filled to the brim with books and uncountable knick-knacks.
Albus let his blue eyes jump from place to place as he entered his office, and he had to smother a smile: as always, the room was characterized, at least in his eyes, by a barely contained merriment.
The enchanted shelves contained more trinkets than what they should have been able to, his selection of tomes described an arabesque of possibilities that folded one into another, all the while the sun entered boldly from the windows only to dance across the feathers of a gold and red phoenix, who was resting on the back of the Transfiguration Professor's favorite chair.
"Fawkes," he greeted the fire bird, "I see you've returned from your wandering: a pity that you missed the chance of meeting young Minerva, I think you'd like her."
The phoenix lifted his regal head from under his wing, regarding the wizard with an understanding that defied description, and trilled a reassuring note that brought a chuckle on Albus' lips.
"Ah, well, there will be other chances... the student about to arrive is another upon which I'd appreciate your insight, my friend."
A soft warble accompanied the phoenix's sudden flaring of wings, and after a single flap, the swan-sized rapacious bird glided over another chair placed next to an open window, his dark eyes never leaving the deep blue ones of the Transfiguration Professor.
A loud knocking on the door made Albus complete his walk towards his desk, behind which he sat while calling out: "Come in!"
The unnaturally tall Slytherin that sported his usual mane of unruly, shaggy black hair walked in with his head held high, robes folded over his left arm to reveal the slightly loosened green and silver tie around his neck, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows: immediately, his dark eyes landed on Fawkes, and for an instant, his feet stopped moving.
Albus looked interestedly as sheer wonder painted itself across the student's face: it was easy to see in the slightly open mouth, in the breath catching in his throat, in the twitch of his hands as if he wanted to jump forward to touch the majestic firebird.
After a split second, a wide smile opened on his features, his walk resuming at a much more subdued pace until he came to a stop at a respectful distance from the phoenix: "I hope you know what you're doing, buddy."
How interesting. The Transfiguration Professor leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap as he decided to wait before reprimanding the student for not dressing properly and not addressing the member of the faculty that had summoned him.
Fawkes instead simply remained still as it observed the unnaturally tall Slytherin with the same intensity that characterized all of its serious moments.
Long seconds passed with the young wizard staring in the eyes of the immortal magical creature, a challenging grin taking the place of the awed smile that appeared at the beginning of the confrontation when Fawkes limited itself to ruffling his feathers.
Wide-eyed and with just a hint of trepidation in his stance, Hagrid used his right hand to bring to bear his wand: instead of holding it as if he was going to cast a spell, however, he simply let it rest flat on his large palm, as if in offering, and Albus' mind, after he noticed the knowing glint in the phoenix's black eyes, connected the dots faster than it was reasonable.
The Transfiguration Professor had personally cajoled Fawkes into offering two of his feathers to Garric at the wandmaker's request, years before, but he hadn't heard of them since.
After all, a wand could reveal much of its wielder, and Ollivander's had a strict policy of confidentiality. For the life of his, Albus couldn't divine a situation in which Garric would freely reveal that information.
The wheel turns. Apparently Rubeus Hagrid had been chosen by one of the wands crafted with Fawkes' feathers as a core. But how would he know? And what is his purpose now?
Fawkes trilled a single high and determined note, which was answered with a shrugging motion by the Slytherin student: "I'm working on it... there's more than one way to skin a cat."
What a horrible saying. "I hope you didn't use such sayings around young Minerva, Mr. Hagrid, have a seat."
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