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Harry Potter: I Get Stronger by Taking Loans - 117
🕑 Added 2025-11-10 17:08:40 +0000 UTCChapter 117: Philosopher’s Stone? Or Bait?
With his back to the Mirror of Erised, Leonardo studied the stone in Dumbledore’s hand and considered the question:
“What do you think of immortality?”
The half-transparent red gem had to be the Philosopher’s Stone.
Immortality. It was undeniably alluring. Yet what the Stone granted was not agelessness, but the Elixir of Life’s unending survival. The difference mattered.
Nicolas Flamel, the maker of the Philosopher’s Stone, had lived for over six centuries by brewing the Elixir. His aging, however, had never stopped. By the end, his body had grown so frail that even a gentle handshake might break a bone.
Truthfully, Leonardo yearned for a longer life. The longer one lived, the more one could experience, the more one could learn. The world was too marvelous and knowledge too vast for a single lifetime. Even a genius could only climb to the heights of one field at best, and even then would be bound by time. Wizards lived longer than Muggles, often a century if they avoided disaster, with a few reaching one hundred fifty or even two hundred. But was that really enough?
Leonardo lifted his gaze from the Stone and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “Headmaster, immortality is appealing. It would grant me more time to learn. But… does this Stone’s ‘immortality’ come with drawbacks?”
Dumbledore nodded, pleased by the candor. “You are both honest and pure of purpose. Are you interested in the principles behind the Philosopher’s Stone?”
Leonardo nodded at once. The Philosopher’s Stone was alchemy’s crown jewel. Beyond turning metal to gold, how did it actually sustain life?
“The Philosopher’s Stone works by strengthening the soul, restoring its vitality, and binding it firmly to the body,” Dumbledore said. “But it cannot replenish life force. That is the drawback you sensed.”
The soul. Of course. In this world, the soul was real and central, a mountain that many a wizard’s studies eventually climbed. If anyone had delved deeply into the soul, it was Tom Riddle—splitting it many times, shaping Horcruxes and achieving a half-life, even riding other bodies as a shade. Voldemort wanted the Stone to restore his flesh, but as Dumbledore described, that seemed impossible. Even so, the ability of the Philosopher’s Stone to invigorate and stabilize the soul would benefit a half-formed remnant like Voldemort
Would Dumbledore truly risk letting Voldemort obtain such an artifact, just to temper Harry Potter?
Leonardo looked at the red gem once more. “Headmaster, is this Stone genuine, or does it still possess the full power to grant unending life?”
Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And why do you ask that, Leonardo?”
He rubbed his chin, hesitating only a moment. “Harry and the others believe someone means to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. If a few first-years can uncover that much, then a determined party could learn it as well. Harry told me the Stone is meant to be in the room guarded by Fluffy, but…”
He remembered a certain embarrassment. “You know I went to ‘visit’ Fluffy once. There was nothing at all beneath that trapdoor. Yet everyone thinks the Stone is there. That feels like… fishing.”
When Dumbledore made no reply, Leonardo continued. “I like fishing. Bait is enticing, but one never lets the fish eat its fill.”
He lifted a finger toward the Stone and said mildly, “Whoever the fish is, this is the bait.”
Silence filled the room. After a time, Dumbledore sighed softly. “A clever deduction. As it stands, the Philosopher’s Stone’s energy can still turn base metals into gold and enhance certain ordinary potions. But…”
He did not finish, but Leonardo understood. It would never satisfy Voldemort’s needs. The Headmaster was no fool. The Stone was real enough, but remaking a body and a true end to death were illusions for the dark lord to chase.
“Headmaster, may I borrow the Philosopher’s Stone?” Leonardo asked.
The directness caught Dumbledore off guard. Then he recalled the boy’s bent for study and gifts in alchemy. A wish to examine the Stone made perfect sense. And after so many conversations and surprises, Dumbledore had come to trust him.
“What will you do with it?” he asked.
“Not transmute gold. I am curious what sets Stone-brewed elixirs apart from ordinary potions.”
“Curiosity can be a great spur to learning.” Dumbledore smiled and lifted the Stone between forefinger and thumb. “I know your level in potions and alchemy, far beyond your years. If you brew with the Philosopher’s Stone, it must be under my supervision. Can you accept that? And the matter of the Stone must remain strictly confidential. Can you promise that?”
“Gladly,” Leonardo said. His goal was simply to brew a dose with the Philosopher’s Stone, enough to settle the Qilin’s annual account. He had no wish to skulk in the shadows. Besides, how many could claim Dumbledore’s oversight as they worked? With the Headmaster watching, would he truly be left to struggle without help if he met a difficulty? Dumbledore was a true polymath. In potions and alchemy, he stood in the first rank of the age.
“Your guidance would be an honor.”
They stepped out into the corridor. Just as they parted, Dumbledore added, “By the way, Leonardo, Animagi must register with the Ministry. An unregistered Animagus, once discovered, is sent to Azkaban.”
Leonardo resisted the urge to purse his lips. Unregistered Animagi? There were more than a few. James Potter and his friends had never registered. A certain Daily Prophet reporter who grasped the essence of journalism could become a beetle. The form’s concealment was too strong. In animal shape, ordinary detection simply failed. Officially, there were perhaps seven registered Animagi on the rolls. Professor McGonagall was one of them; with her character and her post, she would never hide it. But in truth, there had to be far more.
Leonardo thought of how convenient his own shapeshifting had already been. For a wizard who preferred to shadow others, to watch lives from the margins, or even simply to live among people as an animal, registration would be the last thing on their mind. That beetle reporter slipped everywhere on sheer smallness and always managed to dig up exclusive stories.
Seeing Leonardo slow to answer, Dumbledore lightened his tone. “Of course, if no one finds out, then it is not exactly a violation.”
He even winked. The Headmaster was generous to the young he favored. It had been true with Newt, with James, and would be true with Harry. “If you choose to register, I will take you to the Ministry myself. I have friends there. It will be simple enough.”
In other words, either be forthright and register, or be careful and remain unknown, at least to the Ministry. Leonardo was not overly concerned. His Animagus did not bind him to one shape. If one animal form became too familiar, he could simply change it.
“Think it over,” Dumbledore said. “Tell me by summer.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Leonardo replied.
At breakfast the next morning, Harry and Ron poured out their tale.
“Leonardo, last night we found a mirror. A strange one.”
“Yes, yes. When I went back with Harry, I saw myself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain.”
“Want to come tonight?” Harry asked. Leonardo had yet to answer when Ron’s mouth twitched. He wanted to warn Harry off. They had nearly run into Mrs Norris on the second trip. Yet he also understood why Harry would go again. Harry had seen family, and he yearned for family. That was not a hunger that vanished in a night.
Leonardo shook his head. “No need. Be careful when you go.”
He would not talk Harry down. The boy had suffered enough. At least the mirror gave him a moment’s warmth. And Dumbledore would be there to guide him away before he became lost.
The holidays passed quickly. As students returned, the castle filled with life again. More than last term, they seemed busier. Many walked with armfuls of texts and notes. The library was crowded with bent heads, heavy pages, and scratching quills. Older students dominated—O.W.L.s for fifth-years, N.E.W.T.s for most seventh-years, both tightly tied to their futures. Watching them hustle brought Leonardo a flash of his previous life, classmates scrambling for graduate exams, civil service tests, or internships.
“You found Nicolas Flamel and learned about the Philosopher’s Stone?” Hermione stared at Harry and Ron, shocked. She had only gone home for Christmas, and somehow their investigation had leapt ahead.
“You do not know,” Ron said around a sigh. “On Christmas morning… we had help from a lucky bird.”
Hermione found that ridiculous. An owl fanning a Chocolate Frog card was a coincidence, not destiny. But before she could argue, Harry nodded vigorously. “It was the lucky bird. And that night I was nearly… It was the same owl. I am sure.”
Looking at the two of them swearing on their lives made it hard to believe they had uncovered anything at all. “We just had the luck,” Harry said finally. “The details about Flamel and the Stone came from a book Leonardo found.”
Hermione’s eyes slid to Leonardo, who was reading at the table. “That makes sense,” she said, and everything clicked into place.
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