Chapter 217: Butterfly Effect, Rita Skeeter
Scarlet flame flared and scattered.
Leonardo and Dumbledore appeared in the Headmaster's office in a sudden flash.
Fawkes, who had carried them both, fluttered over to his nest and quickly dozed off.
"Well then, you've seen Hogwarts's magical core for yourself. What are your thoughts?"
Dumbledore settled into the wide Headmaster's chair, conjuring tea and sweets as he spoke casually, looking across at Leonardo.
Leonardo considered for a moment, then drew a shimmering, multicoloured crystal orb from his pocket. The emotional energy contained within had already reached the vessel's capacity.
Before the basilisk incident, Dumbledore had agreed to let him observe the castle's magical core. It was only after the Headmaster finished dealing with the flood of matters, both internal and external, that he'd found time to honour that promise. The basilisk affair had stirred up considerable upheaval, and the reactions from all sides had left even the old wizard exhausted.
"It was extraordinary," Leonardo said, slowly turning the crystal orb in his palm. "The magical core has sustained this castle for a thousand years. The skill of those four founders was truly remarkable."
He paused, and he continued with a note of hesitation. "However, I felt that the emotional energy and magic accumulated in the core seemed rather… excessive."
As long as young witches and wizards were active within the castle, the core automatically collected the emotions and magic they gave off, using it to power the castle's daily functions.
But based on Leonardo's observations, the input far exceeded the output.
This had presumably been the case for the better part of a millennium. The emotional energy and magic the core had stockpiled over that time was vast beyond measure.
Dumbledore had used his Headmaster's authority to extract a portion of that emotional energy and give it to Leonardo. It had filled this single crystal orb to capacity and met the minimum threshold needed to attempt crafting a Philosopher's Stone.
Dumbledore took a sip of hot, sweetened red tea and leaned back comfortably. He made no effort to maintain his usual dignified posture as Headmaster. These past days had run him ragged, and he was happy to finally relax.
At Leonardo's answer, Dumbledore chuckled.
"And I suppose you were about to add that all that emotion and magic sitting there is 'wasteful', and could surely be put to better use?"
Leonardo scratched his cheek lightly with one finger, feeling a flicker of awkwardness at having his thoughts read so accurately.
For the Philosopher's Stone, the purest and most ideal primary material was the residual soul energy left behind at the moment of a human's death. But in the current age, opportunities for large-scale "collection" simply no longer exist.
Nicolas's alternative was to collect emotions, the colours of the soul. Once properly refined and purified, they could serve the same purpose.
Discovering that Hogwarts Castle contained such an enormous reservoir of emotional energy had, frankly, set his thoughts racing.
"Ahem. Headmaster, I did think about it, yes. But the school has stood for a thousand years. Surely others must have had similar ideas, yet all that energy is still there. That means there must be limitations or difficulties?"
Seeing that Leonardo had already reasoned this far, Dumbledore nodded gently and set down his teacup.
"First, the emotions. In reality, very few methods exist for utilising this particular 'material'."
The moment Dumbledore said it, Leonardo understood. The techniques Nicolas had taught him for collecting and purifying emotions were extraordinarily complex. He had never heard of anyone else treating emotions as a "material" either.
"Second, the magic. That magic doesn't belong to any single person. It has accumulated over all these years from generations of students, then preserved through the core's special mechanisms. It is far too mixed."
Leonardo's questions were answered. Magical power was best when pure. The magic pooled in the castle's core came from countless sources.
"So, Headmaster, the efficiency of using that magic is very low? Maintaining the castle's daily functions, like the shifting staircases, is essentially the limit?"
"More or less," Dumbledore said, swallowing a Chocolate Frog with evident pleasure. "And accessing it requires the Headmaster's authority. If you ever decide to become Headmaster, you're welcome to try."
Leonardo felt a flicker of sheepishness. That particular position still felt far removed to him.
After a bit more small talk, Dumbledore asked, 'By the way, Leonardo, would you be interested in visiting another school for an exchange?'"
Another school?
Did Hogwarts even have a programme like that?
Seeing Leonardo's puzzled look, Dumbledore began to explain.
"A few days ago, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Olympe Maxime, wrote to propose a joint competition between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Primarily an exchange, but also a way to build towards a larger tournament in the future."
Leonardo was surprised. An exchange competition?
This hadn't occurred in the original timeline. Could the changes he'd caused have rippled all the way to Beauxbatons, so far away?
The butterfly effect?
A butterfly beats its wings, and a storm erupts across the ocean on the other side of the world?
As for the "larger tournament", Leonardo immediately guessed it was the legendary Triwizard Tournament.
The Goblet of Fire.
He found himself genuinely interested in this unexpected exchange competition, largely because its existence seemed to be a distant consequence of his own influence.
"Headmaster, will the competition be held at Beauxbatons? And what are the events?"
Dumbledore nodded. "It will indeed be at Beauxbatons. The scenery there is remarkably lovely. The specific events haven't been finalised yet, but Headmistress Maxime's suggestion is…"
He trailed off, looking at Leonardo with a warm, almost knowing smile, and slowly spoke a single word.
"Alchemy."
Alchemy?
That would favour Beauxbatons considerably.
Leonardo recalled his earlier discussions about the school with Nicolas.
Thanks to Nicolas's sponsorship and backing, Beauxbatons' Alchemy curriculum was well ahead of any other magical school in the world.
Still, if it was only an exchange competition—a preliminary test run for the future Triwizard Tournament—winning or losing wasn't especially important.
As Leonardo considered this, he caught Dumbledore's expression and felt a flicker of suspicion.
"Headmaster, you're not planning to send me, are you?"
Dumbledore spread his hands.
"Why not? Leonardo, how many alchemical devices have you made this term alone? It's hardly any trouble. And just now, your face showed clear interest."
Leonardo opened his mouth, feeling strongly that this entire conversation had been carefully steered to lead him to this exact point.
"Er, Headmaster, may I ask why me?"
He already had a rough idea. His alchemy skills were strong enough for Dumbledore to feel confident. Young people should get out and see the world, broaden their horizons, enjoy themselves, and so on.
"The reason? I think Nicolas Flamel's student representing Hogwarts, going to Beauxbatons on their home ground, and winning an alchemy-focused competition… well, that has a certain appeal, doesn't it?"
Dumbledore said it so matter-of-factly that Leonardo's eyes went wide, a rare sight.
What was this old man even saying?
Sweet tea and pastry scents drifted through the Headmaster's office.
Leonardo stared at the smiling Dumbledore, momentarily lost for words.
Had the sudden release after days of pressure sent the old bee into a kind of giddy euphoria?
No, that wasn't quite right either. Dumbledore was always steady and composed when facing serious matters. It was only in casual moments that he came out with these oddly abstract comments.
Remembering that this was, after all, an "eccentric old man", Leonardo let out a faintly resigned smile.
"Headmaster, this competition…"
Dumbledore waved a hand.
"Don't worry. When you come back from the exchange competition, I'll fill another emotional crystal orb for you. If you win, I'll fill three."
That would mean enough to craft several more Philosopher's Stones. He currently had only the single one Nicolas had given him, and swapping it between devices had become inconvenient.
Leonardo put on a reluctant expression and said, hesitantly, "If I win, could it be five?"
Dumbledore blinked. He hadn't expected Leonardo to haggle with him. He burst into laughter.
"Done."
"It's just an exchange competition, so the scale won't be large. It should take place sometime next term."
They discussed the event a while longer before Leonardo excused himself and left.
After Leonardo departed the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore opened a drawer and took out the battered diary. His fingers traced the marks left by basilisk venom and the Sword of Gryffindor across its cover.
The Elder Wand appeared in his hand. Fine threads of magic, too fine for the naked eye, extended from its tip and sank into the Horcrux's surface.
Time passed. Dumbledore set down the wand, removed his half-moon spectacles, and gently rubbed his temples.
Tom refused to communicate. He had sealed the Horcrux's core entirely, making Dumbledore's progress painfully slow.
This was a Horcrux, firmly within the domain of the Dark Arts.
Though Dumbledore's own aptitude for Dark magic was considerable, he had never pushed himself to the pinnacle in that field.
After the tragedy of those early years, he had begun to restrain himself. His study of the Dark Arts grew less and less over time.
"Someone skilled in the Dark Arts…"
If he were to name a wizard whose mastery of Dark magic was deep enough to advise him on Horcruxes…
Dumbledore's thoughts drifted slowly towards Nurmengard.
…
Time passed quickly, and the Christmas holiday arrived.
The Ministry of Magic.
"Minister Fudge, I had expected the Auror Office to handle the liaison for this. I didn't think you'd see to it personally."
"Oh, those alchemical devices are a matter of Auror safety. Of course, I'd take an interest. Leonardo, it's truly astonishing that someone your age can produce items of this quality. The creativity of a genius, I must say…"
"You're too kind. Having a responsible Minister like you is a blessing for the wizarding world…"
Leonardo and Fudge exchanged mutual, politely flattering pleasantries as Leonardo prepared to leave the Ministry.
Almost immediately after the holiday began, Fudge had sent an invitation, wanting to discuss in person the purchase of Leonardo's protective alchemical devices.
The Ministry had existing alchemical suppliers, but Leonardo's products were higher in quality and more versatile. Fudge also had every reason to build a closer relationship.
The existing suppliers wouldn't be dropped overnight, of course. Their share would simply shrink over time.
Having the Ministry as an official channel was something Leonardo welcomed. Beyond the wealthy, safety-conscious pure-blood families who bought protective devices, the largest customer base by far was the Aurors themselves.
Compared to the relatively stable lives most wizards led, Aurors faced far greater risks on duty. Any extra protection was worth having.
Leonardo and Fudge were chatting amiably as they walked through the main atrium.
At that moment, a pair of eyes behind jewel-encrusted spectacles was studying Leonardo and Fudge, focusing mostly on Leonardo.
Rita Skeeter hadn't expected a routine visit to the Ministry to bring her face-to-face with the wizarding world's latest "celebrity".
The events at Hogwarts had been the talk of the entire wizarding world for days. A thousand-year-old basilisk, hidden inside the castle itself.
The creature had been exploited by a villain who nearly orchestrated a horrific atrocity, only for it all to be stopped by a single student.
As it happened, among the students watching that night, there had been one who loved taking photographs. He had captured quite a bit.
The photos had spread rapidly. The most iconic, the most widely circulated, showed this:
A dark, rain-soaked night. Wreathed in white lightning and golden fire, a boy swings a sword at the basilisk.
Rita thought the young photographer had remarkable luck. To capture such a stunning image at that age, he had the makings of a fine journalist.
It was those photographs that let Rita recognise the boy walking beside Minister Fudge at first glance.
Leonardo Grafton.
Once Leonardo and the Minister parted ways, Rita patted her elaborately stiff curls, and her heels clicked sharply across the floor as she approached.
She stopped in front of Leonardo, professional smile already in place, and was just about to speak when Leonardo beat her to it.
"Rita Skeeter? Can I help you with something?"
He had noticed her gaze earlier. A moment's thought had been enough to guess her identity.
It wasn't difficult. The woman's appearance was too "distinctive".
Her golden hair had been set into rigid, chunky curls that clashed oddly with her heavy-jawed face. The fingers gripping her crocodile-skin handbag were thick, almost mannish, but tipped with scarlet nails a good two inches long.
And then there were those spectacles.
When Leonardo saw the jewel-studded frames, his first thought was that they were ugly. Combined with everything else, the name clicked into place at once.
Caught off guard by having her identity called out first, Rita's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before she recovered.
"Well, what a pleasant surprise that Mr Grafton knows who I am. I'm flattered."
"The thing is, you've become quite the sensation in the wizarding world lately. I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet, and I was wondering if you might be willing to sit for an interview?"
Leonardo didn't answer immediately, but Rita waited patiently. She considered it perfectly normal for a young prodigy to be a bit proud or eccentric.
If this attempt at an interview didn't pan out, it was no great loss. She planned to transform into a beetle and sneak into Hogwarts later. That way, she could capture Leonardo's real side and dig up far more interesting material.
It was just that by the time the basilisk crisis was resolved, Hogwarts had been on the verge of the holidays. Rita hadn't rushed over. And now she had bumped into Leonardo by chance, so she might as well ask.