Chapter 252. The Philosopher's Stone.
For about half an hour, Severus turned the strange stone in his hand, applying every recognition and analysis charm in his arsenal, but all in vain. No matter how he tried, he couldn't understand how the artifact had been created or how it functioned, let alone grasp its abilities beyond what was already known.
It was as though he held an ordinary magical source in his hand, yet he couldn't fathom where this source drew its life force from, and even more intriguingly, where it drew its magic from. He had theories, but only regarding the former; as for the latter, he had only outlandish and improbable ones.
Life force could be obtained through countless methods, from the most mundane, people, to the most complex, such as natural artifacts and creatures favored by magic, like Ents and Unicorns. But magic, especially in such quantities, could only be acquired in three ways: first, using the core of a human at the level of a Grand Archimagus, unlikely since it couldn't survive so many millennia outside a human body; second, a portal at the very center of a magical source leading to another world from which magic could be drawn, something he had witnessed himself; and third, the most mundane option, natural artifacts, which was what he leaned toward.
However, understanding exactly how this artifact worked would be impossible without taking it apart, and Severus had no intention of doing that, certainly not now, when he needed it so desperately for the ritual.
Placing the stone back in its box, he shifted his gaze to the tense Flamel, who was still absorbed in studying the magical circle.
*I'm sure if I took this crystal now, he wouldn't even notice…* Severus thought with a smirk, watching how eagerly Nicholas devoured the screen. *Well, I suppose that's it for today. I doubt he'll finish studying it now, it will take at least a couple of days.*
Rising from the table, he was about to Apparate from the house and attend to other matters, but…
"Take it with you," came Nicholas's calm voice. Flamel still hadn't looked up from the magical circle, let alone at Severus. "Consider this my way of demonstrating my trust in you."
These words surprised Severus, but after considering them for a few seconds, the corners of his lips lifted slightly.
"Then I won't be modest. Thank you. Will three days be enough for you?"
"Better make it four, so I can work through it fully."
"Understood. If you have any questions, write at any time. Have a good evening, and please, don't overexert yourself. You're not young anymore…"
"Just go already!" Flamel glanced menacingly in his direction, eager to get to work properly rather than listen to the boy's jabs.
"I won't distract you further." With that, both Severus and the box disappeared.
"The youth these days… no respect for their elders…"
"And do you remember what you were like?" a mocking female voice came from the second floor, and the angry old man laughed awkwardly, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Mr. Self-Confident Rebel…"
At these words, Flamel coughed violently.
"Or should I remind you about that incident at the end of seventh year…?"
"Perenelle! My love! Why do you treat your husband so?!" he exclaimed, turning his gaze toward the stairs.
"When you finish the renovation, then we'll talk."
"Witch!"
"Did I ever deny it?" Perenelle let out a ringing laugh, which flustered him.
"Stop reading my thoughts! We had an agreement!" he said, offended, pouting like a child, a sight especially comical on Nicholas.
"Then don't think so loudly."
"Witch!"
"You're repeating yourself!"
"I'm stating a fact!"
But instead of continuing the argument, she let out a tired sigh from the second floor.
"You were never much good at verbal sparring. But still, listen to the boy. Don't overexert yourself. Working four days without a break isn't for someone in your condition," Perenelle added, her voice filled with concern.
"Don't worry, I know my limits better than anyone…" He waved dismissively, turning back to the screen.
"I'm not worried…" For some reason, that calm voice sent a shiver down Flamel's spine…
---
After returning to England, Severus immediately threw himself into experiments with the stone, locking himself in his laboratory for the next four days and barely emerging.
He didn't waste time studying the Philosopher's Stone itself; instead, he almost immediately began testing it on everything from simple objects to plants.
The results, strangely enough, didn't particularly surprise him, and in some cases even disappointed him.
First, the artifact was fascinating, though it didn't work on objects that weren't metal or wood. On wooden objects, thanks to the influence of life force, branches sprouted and green leaves unfurled within seconds, as expected.
With metals, however, things were far more interesting. The main ability that nearly everyone wanted the stone for, turning any metal into gold, worked like clockwork, though it held little interest for Severus. After all, the artifact's capabilities in metal transmutation went far beyond merely producing gold.
The artifact could transform one metal into another, expending a certain amount of magic, but, much to Severus's mild disappointment, it couldn't create entirely new metals, limited only to those it had previously transformed.
What brought him unspeakable joy, however, was geosite, or more precisely, something with similar properties, which the Philosopher's Stone produced when Severus simply thought of the material while transforming steel.
Second, there was something else he noticed: the cost of each transmutation. Though the cost was several times lower than that of permanent Transfiguration charms, the process still expended life force along with magic, which roughly balanced things out. Still, he had to admit the stone was far simpler and more convenient for this purpose than charms, which would drain the entire reserve of an early-stage Archimagus even for the simplest objects.
To use such charms with ease, one needed at a minimum to be a Grand Archimagus, but even then, not everything yielded to permanent Transfiguration. Such godlike charms naturally had limitations, and most likely, the Philosopher's Stone had similar restrictions beyond those already known.
Third, the crystal affected herbs much as it did wooden objects: thanks to life force, they grew faster and improved in quality, but there was one minor caveat. This involved the age and growth stage of the plants.
The younger the plant, the greater the artifact's influence.
That is, because it grew in favorable conditions, the plant improved, as expected. While this pleased Severus, it did little to satisfy him, since the three herbs he'd obtained with such difficulty were already at their final stage of growth. The stone could only slightly improve them, forcing him to return to the potion recipe and modify it.
But this was actually for the better, because the potion now became somewhat more effective, and Severus was able to eliminate six unnecessary ingredients that had previously compensated for properties that were lacking due to the weak magical foundation.
Thanks to the Philosopher's Stone, the improved recipe was fully ready by the fourth day. Additionally, he managed to stock up on a considerable amount of improved sunlight honey, herbs, and materials, some of which might prove useful in the future.
But the elixirs of life also disappointed him.
Elixirs of life were nothing more than a concentrated form of processed life force. Upon entering the human body, they simply supplemented one's own life force, enabling immortality, though by the end of one's natural life, they would need to be consumed almost daily.
Of course, something similar could be achieved with raw energy, but the effect would be several times weaker. Processed life force was absorbed almost completely and easily by the body, though how this processing occurred remained a mystery to Severus.
And the Philosopher's Stone itself was a true enigma, impossible to unravel without taking it apart.
---
Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. France. Paris.
A group of five wizards moved along a long, bright corridor whose white walls were adorned with numerous living portraits. At their head walked a grim, gray-haired man whose slightly narrowed gaze made passing Ministry workers nearly flinch, while figures in the portraits hastily vanished as if they'd never been there at all.
"Take him alive or dead: no mercy for that pale-faced bastard! But even though he's wounded, don't let your guard down. A wounded beast is always twice as dangerous, especially a snake like him."
"Yes, commander! But can that person be trusted…?" asked one of the Aurors following him, his left eye blackened.
"No. It could be a trap, but we have no choice: the Minister's orders," Julien hissed through gritted teeth, making the wizards behind him gulp loudly. They had never seen the commander so furious. "Everyone stay alert and keep together," he added as they approached the elevator. "Pass this on to your subordinates as well."
"Yes, commander!" the wizards answered with utmost seriousness, still carrying the painful memory of losing an entire squad of nine after following someone into a Muggle railway tunnel.
Once the group had entered the elevator and it began ascending, the man with the black eye spoke again.
"Captain Julien, we were pulled from our day off, but does this really require all of us?" All five of them, including Julien, were captains, but Julien stood out among them. His experience and skills were unmatched in the French Ministry of Magic, and being seventy while the other captains were no more than forty made him an unspoken leader. Half of them had come from his squad, not to mention that he had been appointed commander of the operation.
"Presumably, he is the one who attacked Mr. Flamel."
"Then it's no surprise. I heard the Minister and Mr. Flamel are on very good terms," said the wizard in glasses, nodding as he rubbed his hat.
"I saw them drinking together myself."
"I remember, I remember. You were the one who ran off to fetch spiced olives for them," one of them said with a smirk, and the others, except for Julien and the previous speaker, laughed along, leaving him flushed with embarrassment.
"It was an order! I couldn't do anything about it! And there's nothing funny about it!" Offended, he looked at the smirking traitor he had considered a friend.
By this time, the elevator had reached the correct floor, and after a few seconds, the doors slowly began to slide open. The wizards inside quickly composed themselves.
Stepping out of the elevator, they were met by a massive, incredibly beautiful glass dome depicting constellations of fantastic beasts, vastly different from the ones Muggles portrayed. In addition to the underground level, the dome had two floors: one solid floor and a second that was a bridge running along the walls and leading to large passages connecting both levels.
The floor, like the railings on the second floor, was not without elegance: every millimeter was covered with curves and intricate patterns. This place was truly worthy of France; while it fell short of the British Ministry of Magic in scale, it surpassed it in beauty.
In front of the elevator stood several rows of Aurors, numbering at least a hundred. Ordinary ministry workers who had not yet learned of the Minister's order glanced at them in surprise.
"Our target is hiding in the western part of Paris. Everyone stay alert. If you encounter the enemy, keep your distance. Don't engage. Report immediately to one of the captains!" Julien looked sternly at each of them. "Take him dead or alive. Move out!"
And with those words, moments later, the atrium was almost completely empty…
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