Chapter 200: Just a Storm, and a Transfiguration Paper Published
The Quidditch pitch lay smothered beneath a violent storm. Wind and rain lashed the stands, and the house banners snapped and cracked like whips as they were yanked taut.
Cho Chang drew in a deep breath of damp, icy air and tightened the high ponytail at the back of her head. When she looked up, the grey sky seemed split wide open, rain pouring down in sheets.
Yet the drops that ought to have drenched her in seconds slid away about two inches from her skin, as though turned aside by an invisible film.
Cho's fingers tightened instinctively around the water-repelling bracelet on her wrist.
Thanks to Leonardo's handiwork, even in a downpour the Quidditch players could stay completely dry.
But rain's troubles did not end with wet robes.
The curtain of water itself, and the thick mist kicked up as it hammered the ground, still strangled visibility. For a Seeker trying to spot the Golden Snitch, it was a maddening handicap. The Snitch was tiny even on a bright day. In this blurred, shifting veil of rain, it might as well have been a speck of dust.
If only it would stop…
Cho barely breathed the thought before she gave a small, self-mocking shake of her head. This storm was enormous. By any reasonable measure it would last at least half the day. Wishing it away was pointless.
And yet, for reasons she could not name, her gaze drifted towards the Ravenclaw stands.
Through the wavering rain haze and the restless sweep of blue banners, Leonardo was there.
Cho found herself gripping her East Wind broom more tightly. After that short, shocking test flight, she had been utterly conquered. The Gryffindor versus Slytherin match had already shown the East Wind making its first dazzling appearance, but only when she rode this final version herself did she understand what "worlds apart" truly meant.
Speed, stability, responsiveness, magical conduction, every single aspect trampled over the Nimbus, the Cleansweep, and the Comet lines she'd flown before.
Her admiration for that younger student rose another notch.
It's fine, she told herself, steadying her breathing. With the East Wind, we've got a real chance today.
She was gathering her focus, ready to follow Madam Hooch's instructions and exchange the usual pre-match courtesies with Hufflepuff when a strange, massive bang tore through the rain, briefly overpowering even the storm's roar.
It was not thunder.
A blinding orb of magic, shimmering with several unnerving colours, shot up from the Ravenclaw stands like a great fish swimming against a current, trailing a brilliant wake as it slammed into the heavy clouds.
What in Merlin's name was that?
Everyone who saw it froze.
Ten seconds, maybe fifteen, passed. Cho felt the rain striking her invisible barrier grow oddly sparse.
When she lifted her head again, her breath caught.
The thick, leaden clouds were being speared from within by countless threads of silver lightning, torn and shredded as the whole mass visibly thinned and broke apart.
And then the rain stopped.
A weak strand of sunlight fought through a gap in the retreating clouds and spilled onto the soaked pitch.
Cho's heart gave a sharp jolt. She looked hard towards the Ravenclaw stands again. Through the distance she could just make out Leonardo lifting a hand in her direction. Beside him stood what looked like a black, barrel-like tube.
Up in the Ravenclaw stands, Leonardo calmly stowed the alchemical device back into his pocket, which was clearly enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
He flicked his gaze to the far edge of the cloudbank. Aether's golden figure flashed past, gone as quickly as it appeared.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host. You have prevented a storm. Beginner Elemental Lightning Rune (weekly loan) has been repaid.]
Leonardo exhaled quietly. With an alchemical device and a thunderbird working together, it was only a storm. The difficulty was hardly worth mentioning.
The students around him, however, erupted into chaos.
"What just happened? It was pouring!"
"Leonardo pulled out some sort of black cannon!"
"He fired it!"
"Merlin's beard! The rain stopped! It actually stopped!"
Shouts and disbelief rolled through the stands in waves, and more and more heads turned to stare at Leonardo. His earlier gadgets and potions had been clever and impressive, but this was something else entirely.
This was changing the weather.
With the storm scattered, the Quidditch pitch felt almost unreal, like a place that had just survived a siege.
Madam Hooch's whistle shrieked, sharp and clean.
The match began.
In the commentary box, Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the stadium, magically amplified and brimming with delight.
"And we're off! Look at Ravenclaw's Seeker, Cho Chang, and she's flying… well, it's not quite the same as the last time we saw it, but that acceleration and that smooth, gorgeous turn can only mean one thing. It's the East Wind!
"Oh, a brilliantly talented Ravenclaw designing brooms, a brilliant Ravenclaw carving up the sky. The kind of teamwork that makes you proud to be here!
"Honestly, Ravenclaw are looking terrifying today!"
High above, Cho was trying to pretend she hadn't heard a word of it. Her broom almost faltered in midair.
What was that Gryffindor even saying?
Heat climbed into her cheeks, and she was grateful she was far above everyone, where no one could see.
Focus. Match first. Snitch.
She forced her attention back to the tiny, darting flash of gold that could appear anywhere.
Over in the Gryffindor stands, Ron Weasley was stretched on tiptoe, craning his neck towards the Ravenclaw section, desperate for another glimpse of that black tube Leonardo had already put away.
"Harry, did you see it? That bang was Leonardo, wasn't it? He stopped the storm!"
Harry shrugged helplessly. "No. I just heard the noise. Besides, this is the wizarding world. Can't you stop storms with magic?"
He'd been at Hogwarts a year now, but his instincts about what counted as "impossible" still lagged behind someone raised in a wizarding family.
Seeing that Harry and Hermione didn't quite grasp what it meant to casually meddle with the weather, Ron scratched his head, struggling for words.
"Just… it's mad, all right? Makes my air cannon feel like a toy. That thing of Leonardo's, one shot and the clouds just went…"
"Er, Harry? Hermione?"
A voice cut in abruptly, stopping Ron's clumsy explanation. Harry turned and found Oliver Wood forcing his way through the crowd, broad-shouldered and intent.
"Wood? What do you want with Leonardo?" Harry asked cautiously.
Wood rubbed his hands together, eyes shining with the fervour of a man who had never met a bad training schedule in his life.
"So, if that really was some enchanted device that cleared the storm… could you ask if I can borrow it for training? If we can practise without the weather getting in the way, we'll be twice as efficient. I'll pay to hire it, if that's what it takes — I'll even go to Professor McGonagall and get the funds approved."
Harry went very, very still.
He knew Wood well enough to see the future unspooling in front of his eyes. If Wood gained the power to banish storms from practice, there would be no more "weather days" ever again.
After a painful moment, Harry forced himself to speak.
"I'll… try asking him."
Wood beamed. "Brilliant! If we train properly, we've got a real shot at the Quidditch Cup this year. I'm counting on you, Harry!"
Under that cheerful pressure, Harry could only manage a strained smile.
On the teachers' stand, the professors' reactions were far more complicated. Several of them had seen exactly what had happened.
Professor McGonagall leaned towards Professor Flitwick. "Filius, do Ravenclaw routinely have Leonardo clearing the weather for Quidditch practice?"
As ever, her first instinct was Quidditch.
Flitwick was waving a small Ravenclaw flag and cheering himself hoarse. Without even lowering it, he chuckled. "Minerva, if I told you this is the first time I've ever seen him take that thing out, would you believe me?"
McGonagall glanced again at the Ravenclaw stands, then back at Flitwick. There was something like envy, and something like disbelief, in her voice.
"I would. First he produces a broom of his own design, and now he's made an alchemical device that can scatter a storm. I honestly don't know which is more astonishing."
Flitwick's grin widened as his flag fluttered faster. "Leonardo is an unusual child. Always full of little surprises, isn't he?"
At that, McGonagall let out a small, helpless laugh. "Filius, those 'surprises' are starting to feel more like shocks. Speaking of which, I received the latest issue of Transfiguration Journeys this morning. Have a look."
She passed him a scholarly journal and tapped the bold headline on the front.
Flitwick lowered his flag. As soon as he read where she was pointing, his eyes went wide.
"Leonardo Grafton?"
"Most innovative Transfiguration achievement in a century?"
McGonagall's mouth curved, satisfied. Leonardo had shown her the early draft, so she'd been prepared. She'd simply wanted to see Flitwick's face when his own student jumped out of a journal and bit him.
And besides, she'd caught sight of Dumbledore just behind them, very obviously watching Flitwick's reaction as well. The Headmaster hadn't warned him either.
"Well?" McGonagall teased. "Surprise, or shock?"
Flitwick pressed a hand to his forehead, flipping the journal open as though it might prove he was hallucinating. "Minerva, this is rather stimulating for my poor heart."
McGonagall laughed softly. "In truth, Leonardo's grasp of Transfiguration is already strong enough for him to teach it. Perhaps when he graduates, I should retire and travel the world."
Flitwick blinked at her. "Minerva, you are also Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House."
"And I should like to retire too," Flitwick said promptly, refusing to be outdone. "When the time comes, we'll simply have Leonardo take over as Charms professor and Head of Ravenclaw. Perfect."
Before McGonagall could retort, Flitwick changed tack, eyes still darting over the journal's pages.
"Minerva, with work like this, there's no question he could win the Ring of Myriad Forms, the Transfiguration prize, should be no problem, should it?"
McGonagall nodded, utterly certain. "Of course. Transfiguration involving magical creatures has opened an entirely new peak for the field. At this point it isn't Leonardo who needs the prize — it's the prize that needs Leonardo, to prove its own worth."
She paused, thoughtful, then added, "And beyond that… there's the Order of Merlin."
As she spoke, her eyes shifted to Dumbledore.
"But that would be a question for the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, wouldn't it?"
It wasn't only McGonagall and Flitwick. Other teachers nearby had caught enough of the conversation that their curiosity sharpened all at once, and a cluster of gazes turned towards Dumbledore.
The Order of Merlin went through Wizengamot approval. The paperwork would, inevitably, pass under the Chief Warlock's eyes.
Dumbledore's long fingers lightly touched his half-moon spectacles. His bright blue eyes were not fixed on the match, but on the distant sky. When he noticed everyone looking at him, he spoke mildly.
"Well. I have been rather busy of late. Some things do slip my mind."
A brief, collective silence followed.
Most of the staff were used to Dumbledore's flimsier excuses by now. They adored and respected him, yes, but there were certain unspoken understandings at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore was many things.
Consistently straightforward was not one of them.
His gaze drifted back towards Leonardo's section of the stands. Of course, he remembered the Order of Merlin discussion. By pure academic contribution, Leonardo easily merited an Order of Merlin, Second Class. The question was the First.
As Leonardo's Headmaster and as someone who understood the boy's talent and temperament, Dumbledore would have been glad to push for the highest honour.
But the First Class came with an unspoken requirement.
Saving many lives or resolving a crisis for the entire wizarding world.
Yes, there were exceptions. Retiring Ministers handing themselves First Class medals. The occasional eccentric ancestor with enough Galleons to make the problem vanish. But for most living recipients, that invisible bar still stood.
It was, in a grim sense, a matter of "luck".
Some people went their entire lives without ever facing such a crisis.
As for last year, when Leonardo stopped the Dark Lord's shade and Professor Quirrell from taking the Philosopher's Stone, that certainly counted as preventing a catastrophe.
But Dumbledore knew how the upper tiers of power operated. Many of them would bury their heads like ostriches. They would not want to believe Lord Voldemort had come so close to returning.
Still, Leonardo was young. His future was long. An Order of Merlin, Second Class, would already place him far beyond his peers.
"Strange…" Dumbledore murmured, lifting his eyes towards the far horizon again as a faint thread of puzzlement slid through him.
Since when had there been a thunderbird here?
Newt hadn't visited recently, had he?