Chapter 204: The Niffler Who Needs to Slim Down, Thestral Spectacles
Hearing Newt's reply, Dumbledore's brows lifted slightly, though he did not press the matter at once.
After a few more pleasantries, Newt turned the conversation back to Leonardo, his tone easing into something warmer.
"By the way, Leonardo, how have the little ones been lately?"
"They're doing wonderfully," Leonardo said with a smile.
He reached into his pocket and produced a palm-sized, exquisitely made case. It looked like a delicate little box, but it was, in truth, the trunk, altered in appearance and shrunk down.
"Some of the residents are a bit too large to let out in here," he went on. "We can go into the Trunk World in a moment and have a proper look. For now, though, we can start with…"
He opened the case and gave a light flick of his wand into it.
A moment later, a niffler drifted sleepily out, swaying as if it could barely keep its eyes open. Its fur was a pale, platinum white, soft as fluff. Ginger.
Newt caught the little creature automatically, as though his hands had been made for it.
Ginger rolled in his palm, found a comfortable position, and settled with a pleased little wiggle.
Newt, by instinct, weighed it in his hand. The sensation was unmistakable. Hefty. Squidgy. With a wobble that had no right to be so… buoyant.
His expression turned faintly strange.
"Leonardo," he said, choosing his words with care, "have you noticed that Ginger seems, for a niffler of this age, a bit… robust?"
"Maybe it's been secretly stuffing more treasure into its nest," Leonardo said, and as he spoke, he reached out and lightly scratched Ginger's soft belly.
A crisp, delightful clatter answered him.
Gold and silver trinkets, glittering cufflinks, bright gemstones, and even several hundred Galleons and Sickles poured from the pouch in Ginger's belly in a shining cascade, turning the Headmaster's office into a glittering sea of reflected light.
"Chit!"
Ginger jolted awake at once. Its beady eyes went wide with horror as it watched its hard-won hoard spill away. It flailed its tiny paws, trying desperately to scoop the treasure back, but its arms were far too short. The sight of its helpless little scrabbling was so pitiful it would have been funny, if not for the sheer despair written all over its face.
Then came the truly awkward part.
Even after every last gleaming bauble had been emptied out, Ginger remained exactly as round as before. Not a hint of slimming. Not the slightest reduction in its fluffy, ball-like body.
For a beat, the Headmaster's office fell into a silence so pointed it was practically tangible.
Leonardo quietly gathered the treasure back into his pocket, scooped the protesting Ginger into his arms, and cleared his throat.
"Right. I'll strictly supervise this little one's weight loss."
Dumbledore's eyes shone behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Hahaha. It's quite clear, Leonardo, that you take excellent care of magical creatures. They seem very… comfortable with you."
His gaze shifted to the tiny trunk in Leonardo's hand, interest plain on his face.
"I wonder if I might have the honour of visiting your Trunk World for a look around?"
In truth, the request was not a whim. During the Quidditch match a few days ago, Dumbledore had glimpsed, high among the clouds, a figure that looked very much like a thunderbird. The doubt had lingered. Seeing the trunk now, so similar to Newt's own, answered most of his questions.
"Of course," Leonardo said without hesitation. There were not that many creatures inside, after all.
And so Leonardo brought Dumbledore and Newt into the Trunk World, which he had arranged and planned with such care.
Not long after, the tour ended, and the three of them returned to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked at Leonardo with unusual gravity.
"Leonardo, while you're at school, do keep a close watch on that trunk."
Because during that brief visit, Dumbledore had seen not only the thunderbird he had expected, but also a dragon.
The dragon's appearance was unusual, but Dumbledore could just about identify it as a Norwegian Ridgeback.
The thought of this young student strolling through Hogwarts every day with a trunk containing a thunderbird and a dragon was, even for Dumbledore, rather difficult to put neatly into words.
Newt hurried to reassure him.
"Dumbledore, you can rest easy. The trunk I gave Leonardo has been thoroughly improved. The protective magic is top-tier. Those little ones absolutely, absolutely cannot get out."
Dumbledore looked at Newt with a faintly complicated expression, as if recalling a great many incidents that began with precisely that sort of confidence.
"Headmaster, don't worry," Leonardo added evenly. "I'll keep them under control."
Dumbledore considered it, then decided that if Leonardo could Transfigure magical creatures in the first place, keeping a few in a trunk was, somehow, not the most alarming thing he had dealt with.
Fawkes had barely had time to rest before he was busy again, escorting Newt back where he needed to go, leaving only a few fading sparks drifting in the air.
Now the Headmaster's office held only Leonardo and Dumbledore.
Dumbledore regarded him calmly.
"About the basilisk. Beyond what we have already discussed, do you have any other thoughts?"
Leonardo considered, then answered.
"I think it would be best to keep the basilisk's existence confidential for now, limited to the Heads of House and the professors. If the students learn the truth, it could trigger panic we cannot easily predict. The most urgent thing is finding it in the castle and dealing with it for good."
He paused, then continued, voice steady.
"The most lethal part is still its eyes, the magic of instant death. Up to now, the victims have only been Petrified through water, reflections, ghosts, that sort of indirect medium. They've been lucky. We can't rely on luck continuing."
Leonardo did not trust the promises being made behind the scenes. Lockhart might hesitate to kill students and might insist it was only Petrification, but Leonardo did not believe a word that came from Tom Riddle's mouth. Promises were only chains for gullible hands.
As he spoke, Leonardo drew a simple, understated pair of spectacles from his pocket and placed them lightly on the desk.
"Headmaster, this is a recent experimental piece. It occurred to me it might be useful against the basilisk's gaze."
With a small gesture, Dumbledore summoned the glasses into his hand. He lifted them, studying them closely. After a moment, understanding flickered across his face.
"Oh. Thestral tail hair woven into the materials, yes?"
"Yes," Leonardo said. "I wanted to see whether I could use the Thestrals' trait, that they are only visible to those who have witnessed death, to create something specialised. At the moment, these glasses blur anything directly related to 'death' in the wearer's sight. I'm not sure whether that would also block or weaken the basilisk's gaze."
Dumbledore took out his wand and set the tip gently against the frame. His magic flowed in, quiet and controlled, probing the structure of the enchantment.
The room stayed silent for several minutes.
At last, Dumbledore withdrew his wand and handed the glasses back. His admiration was plain.
"A very clever concept."
By this point in the term, Dumbledore had grown accustomed to Leonardo producing invention after invention. Even so, the originality here brought him genuine pleasure.
Leonardo accepted the glasses.
"In your view, Headmaster, what could be improved in the design?"
Dumbledore thought for a moment.
"Perhaps a constant charm that redirects the line of sight, or scatters light. An additional layer of protection for the wearer."
The two of them continued, a veteran wizard and a gifted student, discussing refinements and possibilities in the language of practical alchemy.
Before long, Fawkes returned. Instead of settling back on his perch, he glided down and landed on Leonardo's shoulder, small talons gentle, and began to tidy Leonardo's slightly messy hair with his beak, fussing with earnest concentration.
Dumbledore smiled at the sight.
"Fawkes is particularly fond of you."
Leonardo reached up and rubbed the phoenix's fluffy head, half in jest.
"Maybe I'm simply the sort who attracts magical creatures."
Dumbledore's smile deepened. In his own way, he understood that was one of the reasons Newt valued Leonardo so highly.
After that brief lightness, Dumbledore's expression grew serious again.
"Leonardo, in the coming days I fear I'll be exceedingly busy. I may not be able to watch the school as closely as I would like. I cannot shake my concern for Harry. I have the feeling this year's danger will, in the end, point towards him, so…"
He did not finish the sentence, but Leonardo understood perfectly.
A familiar role, once more. A guardian on the sidelines.
Leonardo's gaze drifted briefly to the glass cabinet where the Sorting Hat sat, wobbling faintly as if murmuring some odd little tune to itself. The legendary Sword of Gryffindor was not far from his thoughts.
"I understand," Leonardo said, returning his focus. "If anything looks wrong, I'll keep an eye on Harry."
When the basilisk appeared, he intended to end it immediately.
He needed its heart as a key material for the final optimisation of Norbert's magical circuitry.
And when it was over, he would ask Dumbledore for access to Hogwarts's magical core. If he could "borrow" some of the emotional energy the castle had been collecting from generations of students, he might finally reach the minimum threshold to attempt a Philosopher's Stone.
Dumbledore looked visibly relieved.
"I'm glad. But Leonardo, although your abilities far exceed most of your peers, do not force yourself. Inform the professors first when possible. A basilisk is extremely dangerous. The staff are fully capable of protecting the students, and Hogwarts itself has safeguards in reserve."
"Safeguards?" Leonardo echoed.
The first thing that came to mind was McGonagall's spell, Piertotum Locomotor, which could awaken statues and suits of armour to defend the castle.
"All right," Leonardo said. "I'll remember."
He nodded, then asked, "Headmaster, are you going to deal with the pure-blood families?"
"More or less," Dumbledore said, weariness showing behind the lenses. "The earlier attacks drew only mild reactions from them. Zabini being targeted caused an uproar. I will have to respond to many 'concerns' from the Board of Governors and the Ministry."
Leonardo was not surprised.
When it was not their problem, some people watched from a distance and thought themselves noble for not kicking those already down. After so many years, the pure-blood families knew Dumbledore's temperament. They knew he would act within established rules because he chose to.
Otherwise, could a handful of votes truly drive him away from the Hogwarts to which he was so stubbornly loyal?
Dumbledore was simply too principled. It was precisely because he understood how powerful he was that he insisted on binding himself with restraint, refusing to become a tyrant in any colour.
Leonardo did not particularly care what method solved a problem, cleverness or force. He cared about studying in peace and using whichever path cost him the least time.
And if Dumbledore did end up leaving Hogwarts even briefly, that would be Tom's best opening.
The next day, the Headmaster's office was heavy with tension.
The professors gathered as Dumbledore announced that the creature hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, responsible for the attacks, was the legendary basilisk. Several people inhaled sharply at once.
"Merlin's beard," McGonagall breathed, her face going pale as she clutched at her chest.
Even Snape's cold expression did not fully hide the shadow that passed through his eyes.
Lockhart, seated off to one side, performed a flawless display of alarm, eyes wide as he dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. Inside, however, he felt nothing but calm. Whether the basilisk was exposed or not no longer mattered to the plan. The hero's script had already been written. All that remained was the final scene.
"Dumbledore, we must take the strictest measures at once," McGonagall said, voice sharp with urgency.
"Try not to worry, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, still steady.
"Not worry?" McGonagall's temper flared in a way that was rare for her. "It's a basilisk. One look into its eyes and you die."
The other professors fell quiet, all of them understanding something unspoken. Dumbledore was Headmaster, yes, but the one who truly carried the daily weight of the school, who guarded the students like a lioness with cubs, had always been McGonagall. In some ways, she seemed more a Headmistress than anyone.
A professor with a silver-grey magical prosthetic on his left arm raised his hand. Scar lines marked his face. Silvanus Kettleburn, the former Care of Magical Creatures professor.
"With respect, Dumbledore," Kettleburn said in a rough voice, "the Chamber has existed for over a thousand years. Even if Slytherin left a basilisk there, can it truly live so long?"
Several professors who knew something of basilisks looked similarly doubtful.
Dumbledore answered smoothly.
"I consulted Newt Scamander. With certain hibernation methods, and given that basilisks can commonly reach eight or nine hundred years, it is quite possible for one to survive from Slytherin's era to the present day."
Kettleburn murmured Newt's name under his breath, and the doubt left his face. In the field of magical creatures, that name itself was authority.
McGonagall cut back to what mattered.
"We must immediately impose strict travel rules for the students. Absolutely no wandering at night."
"And we should not disclose that the creature is a basilisk," she added. "Not to the students. It would cause panic."
"I entirely agree, Minerva," Dumbledore said approvingly, then swept his gaze across the room. "Now, we must work together to locate where the basilisk is hiding."
He turned his hand, and a pair of ordinary-looking spectacles appeared in his palm.
"We will also need additional protection for both staff and students. These are Leonardo's inventions. They can, to some extent, block the basilisk's gaze."
Then Dumbledore produced a small box. Inside were spectacles in a variety of frames, along with several thin, neatly arranged contact lenses.
"Leonardo prepared several styles," Dumbledore said. "Very considerate."
The professors stepped forward, each taking a pair.
When everyone had chosen, only one set remained in Dumbledore's hand. It was, to put it kindly, distinctive, complete with little wing decorations. A pair of "bumblebee" glasses.
A few professors fought hard to keep their faces straight.
Snape, however, looked genuinely grim. He had moved too slowly. What he held was a pair of glasses with an exaggerated bat-shaped frame.
He rose at once and swept from the room without a word, like a great bat taking wing.
One by one, the other professors left as well.
Dumbledore's gaze lingered briefly on Lockhart's departing back.
It had to be said, today Lockhart was unusually quiet. Not a hint of his usual grand speeches.