The two of them sat by the lakeside, neither speaking at first, just quietly taking in the beauty of the garden.
By the way, this lake was no ordinary pond—it had originally co from the Black Lake at Hogwarts.
Back when Arthur hunted down the giant squid, he had scooped up a portion of the water as well.
Oh, and an entire rfolk tribe too—since they had sided with the squid, they beca test subjects in his experints.
The Life Elixir he had developed? It had co from them.
After a long silence, Hermione finally broke it.
"By the way, Cousin… that spell you used earlier—what was it? It looked like… dark magic."
"Well, in a sense, it does fall under that category," Arthur admitted. "But more precisely, it's magic tied to death itself."
"Can I learn it?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"No. Touching death is dangerous."
This ti he wasn't lying.
This world truly had a god of death, and who could say what might happen if soone other than Arthur started ddling with that domain? Arthur had his system protecting him—he wasn't afraid. But if Hermione drew the Reaper's gaze? Death would co for her without hesitation.
"Then… What about you? Won't sothing happen to you for using it?" she asked, worried.
That surprised him—he thought she would be upset that she couldn't learn it, not anxious on his behalf.
"Relax. You forget—your cousin's a genius." Arthur ruffled her hair with a smile.
Hermione finally let out a breath of relief. "All right. Then… with so many herbs here, you must've been to the Forbidden Forest countless tis. Show around this place!"
"Sure. Co on."
The next day, after Potions class, Snape walked straight up to Arthur.
"Co to my office."
Harry overheard and looked at Arthur with the sa dread one would have watching a friend being led to an execution. Arthur almost laughed. Once upon a ti, it was Snape always targeting Harry. Now that Snape had other concerns, Harry was the one targeting Snape.
Inside the office, before Arthur even sat down, Snape spoke in his low, silken voice:
"My research has hit a wall. The 'Potent Reversing Draught' you spoke of—it falls under the realm of reversing age itself. That would require the Philosopher's Stone. I went to Dumbledore, but he refused ."
Heh, refused you? Arthur thought. He doesn't even have it anymore.
"But… I thought the Stone only made the Elixir of Life, which just extends lifespan. How is that connected to rejuvenation?" Arthur asked with feigned innocence.
"You know more than most. Both rejuvenation—reversing the body's origin—and immortality—extending life—require vast quantities of vitality. Only the Stone can provide that."
"I see. Well then, here."
Arthur pulled a Philosopher's Stone from his pocket and handed it over.
This was an "original" one he had crafted months ago.
The raw material? Britain's death row inmates—there were more than enough to work with. Arthur had once sent his avatar to sweep through every prison in the country, and from their lives he had forged this Stone.
Later, he had used it as a model to create two specialized variants:
Life Stones, holding only vitality.
Soul Stones, holding only spiritual essence.
Which made this original redundant. Since Snape needed it, Arthur simply passed it on.
Snape's expression could only be described as the of an old man on the subway staring at smartphone. Pure disbelief.
"You didn't… sneak into the third-floor room, did you?"
"No. You keep watch on Quirrell there every day. If I had, wouldn't you already know?"
"Then where in rlin's na did you get this? And how do you know I've been watching Quirrell?"
"Oh, don't fuss about its origins—it's not the one guarded by the three-headed dog. And as for you and Quirrell, Harry told . He saw you threatening him on Christmas night. Now he suspects you want to steal the Stone."
Arthur shrugged. Of course, the truth was that the "real" Stone had been in his possession long before he even entered Hogwarts.
"Hmph. With that stunted brain of his, that's as far as his reasoning will ever reach," Snape sneered at Harry as usual. Then he thrust a notebook into Arthur's hands.
"These are my school notes. When I complete the potion, I'll share the formula with you. You may leave."
Arthur glanced at the cover, smirked, and teased:
"'The Half-Blood Prince'? Didn't think you were so edgy in your youth, Professor."
"OUT!"
Arthur chuckled and made his exit.
Back in his dormitory, he opened the notebook—and a loose page slipped out.
He picked it up. His eyes widened. The Elixir of Life formula.
So Snape had this all along. For Arthur, this was a long-sought treasure. Without the recipe, the Stone was little more than a golden trinket brimming with vitality.
Snape, of course, would have scoffed at his excitent. The truth was, nearly every old wizarding family possessed this recipe. When Nicolas Flal first created the Stone, the avarice of those families had forced him to divulge the potion's formula.
Without the Stone, the potion could only extend life by a decade or two. But given Flal's own unmatched skill in alchemy, no one dared press him further. Thus he alone bore the title of the Stone's creator.
For Arthur, the Elixir itself wasn't necessary—his system ensured he would one day attain true immortality. But for his loved ones? It mattered a great deal. He didn't want to outlive everyone until there was no one left to talk to.
With the Elixir formula, and Snape's future Rejuvenation Draught, Arthur was confident he could craft a true Potion of Immortality—not rely prolonging life, but preserving youth.
But that was for later. His current focus was finishing his research on human transmutation.
He had already conducted preliminary trials using his Life and Soul Stones.
He killed a rfolk, then used a Life Stone to revive it.
The result: a plant-like rfolk.
His inspection revealed the problem. The instant of death had caused its soul to dissipate. The Stone restored its vitality, but with its soul too weak to integrate, the body collapsed into a vegetative state.
Next, he rged a Soul Stone into the creature's spirit.
This ti, it revived—but with the intellect of a child.
Testing confird his suspicion: the soul-energy within the Soul Stone was too impure. Its murky fragnts polluted the rfolk's soul, leaving it dull-witted.
Worse, the process was wasteful. Ten rfolk lives had yielded only two Stones, and together they were barely enough to restore one rfolk to this flawed state. Yes, the revived creature's vitality and soul were technically stronger than before—but the defects were glaring.
And Arthur's true goal wasn't so half-baked rfolk revival.
It was Ranni.
She was a demigod. Her body and soul were on an entirely higher plane.
If his crude Stones produced only "plant-n" and "idiots," how could they ever suffice to restore her?
The challenge before him was clear:
Not re purification, but refinent so profound it transcended impurity itself.
Only a qualitative transformation of his Stones could yield the energy pure and vast enough to revive a god.
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