Akashic Records
patreon
Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 92: Rubedo
🕑 Added 2025-10-20 16:03:02 +0000 UTCChapter 92: Rubedo
“It all seems so simple in hindsight,” I said with a sigh, looking down at my workbench. There, resting in a gold bowl, was a thumb-sized piece of what appeared to be ruby.
However, it was not a mere ruby, but rather my first successful transmutation of a Philosopher’s Stone.
“Nick and Perry must be laughing at me up in Heaven,” I thought with a grimace, running a hand over my face.
Thanks to Death whispering the secrets of alchemy into my ear, I now knew how to create a Philosopher’s Stone. More to the point, I knew how to make them cheaply, efficiently, and as often as I wanted.
‘And it is incredibly easy to create a Philosopher’s Stone. It’s not difficult at all!’ I thought in a bit of frustrated bemusement.
It was the transmutation process itself that was the hardest part for making one. The ingredients? Incredibly easy to obtain. What I needed? Aluminum powder, diamonds, fine white sugar, and perfectly round pearls.
I could see why it was seen as a legendary item… in the distant past. These days, I could buy everything for less than a hundred quid! The diamonds were super easy to get thanks to lab-grown synthetic crystals. Or, you know, making them myself out of alchemy using some coal. Same with pearls, sugar, and aluminum. Mass production and industrialization had made everything quite easy to obtain.
Even the process itself wasn’t that complicated once Death had explained it in layman’s terms I could understand. Alchemy was just breaking matter down and recombining it when you got to the nitty-gritty details. Infusing the substance with magical energy and granting it new and unusual properties was the hard part. Now, I knew how to do all of it in a simple, streamlined manner!
‘I understand why the Flamels kept the knowledge of how to make a Philosopher’s Stone cryptic and encoded,’ I mused. It would be so easy to abuse this information in the modern era, and it was too expensive when they first discovered the secret.
I decided to stop kicking myself and instead think about the ways I could use it. Just as Nicholas and his journey described, the Philosopher’s Stone was a mystical battery crossed with an information storage device.
A single Stone contained a set amount of magical energy that was determined at its creation, along with a form of information that usually took the form of a spell. This spell was imbued into the Philosopher’s Stone at creation as well, though the method for this varied. It could be implanted with a wand by casting it at the moment of formation, or one could use a complex combination of runes and arithmancy to essentially ‘code’ the spell into the Stone.
Then, by using the magical energy within the Stone to power the spell, it was possible to perform magic without a wand or foci. In this way, the Flamels had simply imbued a Transmutation spell into the Stone so they could transmute water into Elixir of Life based on a sample stored within the Stone itself, as well as change base metals into gold whenever they wished with another Transmutation spell.
It wasn’t just spells, either. Ward and rune schema, samples of potions, and entire pre-made rituals could be stored inside the Philosopher’s Stone indefinitely, only using them when needed. To say nothing of other things, like memories. Or, in other words: data. Lots and lots of data.
Inside of the tiny ruby-like stone in front of me, I safely could keep several hours’ worth of memories. This meant in time I could probably find a way to store electronic information as well, creating crystal-wafer microchips with more RAM and storage than any supercomputer on the market today – or in the future.
Perhaps the most important aspect of the Philosopher’s Stone, though, was that it was 100% efficient. There was no degradation of the materials or energy stored within. A single ounce of Elixir of Life had been able to be stored by the Flamels for centuries, replicated endlessly without any issues, even across multiple Stones. The original Elixir sample was long gone, but it still worked as if it had been freshly brewed all those years ago.
I also theorized that if I put, say, a million watts of electricity into a Philosopher’s Stone, or the magical equivalent, then I could just leave it alone for a century and still have a million watts inside when I came back to it, ready to be used. There was no loss of energy during transfer, either. Normally there was always a bit of energy lost when it was being used. That wasn’t the case for the Philosopher’s Stone. It was, simply put, the perfect battery.
Furthermore, figuring out how to create the Philosopher’s Stone had given me insights into finding a way to turn magic directly into electricity, and vice-versa. I’d need more tests, but I had a feeling I’d be able to power runes and wards by hooking them up to an electrical grid in a year or two.
‘Combined with the ritual to convert thermal energy, like from a volcano, into magical energy, I now have a way to reliably create as many Philosopher’s Stone as I need,’ I mused. With this, I’d be able to finish the ritual to turn all of humanity into mages!
A new idea hit me, and I began to think it over. ‘Actually, I could use the Tethys generator to create electricity, then convert a portion of that into magic which would go back into powering the runes themselves, which would create more conjured water to turn the turbines and make more electricity, repeating the whole thing again…’
I paused mid-thought and sat there, blinking slowly and incredulously. Had I just invented a perpetual energy generation method?
Swallowing a bit, I started to run through the numbers in my head. The Aquamenti rune sequence installed on the current model of Tethys hydro-electric generator drew in enough ambient mana from the Ley Lines beneath the building to passively produce enough water to turn a turbine that was able to create a whole megawatt of power per month.
Take a bit of that, maybe a hundred watts or so, off the top to turn back into magic so it could power the runes without relying on the Ley Lines, was something worth looking into. If it worked, of course.
‘I need to find out how efficient it would be to turn magic into electricity, and vice-versa,’ I thought to myself.
The idea of perpetual energy was incredibly tempting, but I needed to know how much magic would actually be produced from a single watt of electricity, and if the ritual to convert the two types of energy would even be worth it.
‘Yet if this works, then aside from the initial energy costs of starting up a generator, they’d become self-sufficient relatively quickly afterwards.’
My excitement was almost too much to contain, but I forced myself to calm down. Right now, I needed a cool head so I didn’t rush into anything without thinking it through.
‘First things first, I need to show off my successful alchemical experiment,’ I thought, holding up the Philosopher’s Stone I’d created. The ceiling light passed through it, making a kaleidoscope of a dozen different shades of red appear on my face, and I grinned widely.
I got up and left my workspace, and as I stepped out into the living room I found Harry watching the big screen TV… with Susan?
‘When did he invite her over?’ I wondered. They were sitting quite close together, too…
I scratched the back of my head before shrugging. I’d been cooped up in my lab for close to a week now getting the Philosopher’s Stone made, so I guessed I might have missed a thing or two.
“Hello, Harry, Susan,” I said, announcing my presence. Both of them jerked in surprise, not having expected me to emerge from my lair so soon.
“H-hey Ed,” Harry stammered, scooting awkwardly away from Susan, and I realized I must have just interrupted something. Had he been leaning in for a kiss earlier when I walked in?
‘Oops,’ I thought. ‘I think I just cockblocked him.’ I’d make it up to him later. For now, I just greeted them with a smug, knowing smile.
“Hello, Mr. Rose,” Susan said politely, trying to keep a blush off of her cheeks.
“Hope you two aren’t doing anything Delilah and I would do,” I said as I walked over to the kitchen. I suddenly felt rather thirsty.
“Shouldn’t it be ‘wouldn’t do?’” Susan asked, confused.
“Nah, because anything my girlfriend and I would do is definitely not something I’d want you two to be doing right now. Certainly not on the couch, at least. Harry has a room, after all,” I drawled, and grinned smugly as they both flushed bright red.
“A-are you done with your experiments?” Harry asked, trying not to stammer too much and change the subject.
“Sure am. Well, for now, at least. I accomplished what I set out to do,” I said, tossing the ruby red rock into the air and catching it a few times.
Naturally, that drew their eyes, and Harry was the first to recognize it. After all, he had one just like it hidden in his sock drawer.
“I-is that…?!” Susan gasped, catching on a moment later.
“Oh, this little thing?” I hummed, unable to suppress the grin I had. “Not much. Just a Philosopher’s Stone.”
“Oh, wow!” Harry gasped. “You finally did it!”
“You made a Philosopher’s Stone?!” Susan shrieked.
“Sure did,” I chuckled. “It took forever. Finally figured it out thanks to some help.”
I’d have to thank Death the next time I saw them. I wonder what psychopomps (or whatever the Hell it was) liked as gifts?
Susan continued to imitate a fish on dry land for a few seconds before recovering from her shock.
“HOW?!”
“Magic,” I replied.
She shot me the most deadpan glare a fourteen-year-old could muster, and I just snorted.
“Seriously, it was magic. Technically, it was alchemy, but that’s a branch of magic,” I said.
“What are you going to do with it?” Harry wondered.
“More experiments, for starters,” I told him. “After that? Probably nothing.”
“Nothing? You have one of the most legendary artifacts ever created, and you won’t do anything?” Susan asked in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. It’s not exactly useful as it is. Needs more refining,” I said. “It’s empty. There’s nothing inside of this, just raw magic. I suppose it could help sustain a ward or runic sequence, but that’s it.”
Madam Bones’ niece still looked at me as if I was both a genius and a moron, before shaking her head incredulously.
“Okay, you’ve done the impossible and consider it nothing special. Whatever,” she huffed.
“That’s the spirit!” I chuckled. “I don’t mind if you tell your aunt, but don’t make too much of a fuss, alright?”
Susan rolled her eyes at me, and Harry patted her sympathetically on the back.
“Let’s talk about other things,” I suggested, moving on to a new topic. “Susan, will you be going to the Quidditch World Cup?”
“Yes! With Hannah. Auntie is too busy. She’ll be with the Minister, and will be in charge of the security detail for him and the other VIPs,” she said, sounding a bit wistful.
“That moron is having the head of the entire department acting as a mere security guard?” I demanded incredulously.
“Yes, I think it’s some sort of powerplay to punish her for all of the ‘I told you so’s’ she gave him when he stationed the Dementors at Hogwarts and… well…”
“Yeah, I heard. Harry summoned a spirit and wiped ‘em out,” I said. I then tapped my chin. “How many Dementors are even left, now?”
“I don’t know,” Susan replied with a shrug. “Auntie says the Dementors are being unusually secretive… more so than usual, at least. But according to records in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there were around four thousand Dementors in 1921. Their numbers were probably falsified or they were miscounted, so probably twice as many as they claim. Or more, since it’s been nearly a hundred years after all.”
“Makes sense,” I muttered. “Despite being called ‘creatures’ they are as smart as any witch or wizard. More, perhaps, given the average intelligence of most Ministry officials.”
Susan and Harry both snorted at that but didn’t make a word against my statement.
“Well, enough doom and gloom. It’s getting close to dinner, so who wants curry?”
That perked the duo up, and I got out the ingredients for some nice homemade food. Inky helped a little (and by that, I mean he made most of it), and when it was ready, Harry and Susan were ready to dig into the plates of curry and rice. It was nice having a meal with family again, and I raised a cup of sparkling cider in a toast.
“Here’s to the end of one school year and the start of the next, kids,” I said. “And here’s to the Irish winning the Quidditch World Cup next week!”
“I’m hoping for the Bulgarians to cinch the win, actually,” Harry replied, and I gasped and clutched my chest in mock despair.
“Abandoned by my own brother! Oh, how you wound me!” I swooned.
“My penpal likes them, so that’s who I’m rooting for,” he replied with a laugh. “He’s gonna be at the Cup, too. We’re hoping to meet up before the match.”
“Good for you two. Oh, and speaking of penpals, guess who finally got back to Delilah and confirmed they’d be here for the Cup?” I asked him.
“The Delacours?” Harry guessed.
“Got it in one!” I said, shooting him finger guns.
“Who are the Delacours?” Susan inquired.
The Hufflepuff looked intrigued by this talk of foreign friends, and I let Harry explain that a couple of cute French girls were going to be there. Watching the way her face gained a look of jealousy when he mentioned Gabrielle made me stifle a snort of amusement.
‘Poor, poor girl. She has it bad,’ I thought. ‘And Harry is as dense as ever.’
I’d let them figure their own relationship out on their own though. Better that way. Funnier, too!
111 &&& 111
“This is a Philosopher’s Stone?” Merula asked, holding up the red rock skeptically.
“Sure is,” I said with a grin.
“Huh. Thought it would be… I dunno… shinier?” she mused.
Eventually, the Potion Mistress shrugged and handed it back to me. “It’s neat, I guess. Not really one for Alchemy, but it’s impressive you made one.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” I commented.
“Yeah, well, I figured that you’d do something ridiculous like this at this some point,” Merula snorted.
“So, what did you call me here for?” I asked, putting the ruby red stone away.
“Well, boss, I think I did it,” she said with a grin.
“The cure for Dementia and Alzheimer’s?” I inquired eagerly, and she nodded.
“I borrowed a bit from the Legilimancy Potion, mixed it with an altered Memory Potion recipe, and figured out a way to have the brain restore lost memories and heal some scarring and degradation,” Merula explained. “It’s not a perfect cure. If the patient is too far gone it won’t reverse what’s already happened, but it will effectively stop any further loss of mental faculties.”
“That’s incredible!” I praised, and she preened.
“You know it,” she said with a smirk.
“Do you think it’s possible to ever create a potion to completely reverse the effects?” I wondered, and she shrugged.
“If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have said no. But if I can make a potion that stops somebody’s brain from turning to mush, then I can make something to unmush it,” Merula declared proudly.
“Excellent,” I said, resisting the urge to rub my hands together. “Now comes the important question: can you mass produce it?”
“No,” she replied. “I can whip up a giant batch if I have the ingredients, and the shelf life is pretty damn long, but it’s never gonna be more than a bespoke, limited quantity product.”
“And you can’t substitute non-magical ingredients for it?” I inquired, just to make sure.
“Absolutely not,” Merula said with a shake of her head. “I’ve cut it down as best I can: replaced dragon’s blood with salamander blood, Whomping Willow Bark with regular willow bark, and Century Ginseng with gingko biloba, but I cannot replace the two key ingredients with anything less than something equally magical.”
“And those are?”
“Alihotsy leaves, and Exploding Fluid of an Erumpent,” Merula stated.
“Damn,” I grunted. “How effective is it?”
“With just the two magical ingredients… I’d say half as effective at best,” she replied after thinking it over. “It also doesn’t last as long.”
“How long does the semi-magical potion last?” I asked.
“Without precise testing I can’t be sure, but maybe… five years? Let’s say four to be on the safe side,” Merula told me.
“And if I were to keep using only magical ingredients for this Anti-Dementia Potion?”
“Oh, forever,” she said. “Or at least for the rest of their lives.”
“You sure?” I asked in surprise.
“No, not entirely,” she admitted. “Again, without testing it on people, I can’t be sure. But I am fairly confident the effects would last at least fifty years, if not more.”
“Hmm… well, we have options, then,” I said.
I didn’t like the idea of selling people a potion that wasn’t a full cure. It felt too much like the American health insurance model. But I didn’t have unlimited money, nor were there unlimited amounts of materials…
I paused as I realized I could, in fact, have infinite materials on hand, and I took out the Philosopher’s Stone from my pocket, staring at it.
Samples of Dragon’s blood, Erumpent fluid, and many other magical ingredients could be stored inside of a Philosopher’s Stone upon its creation, alongside with a Transmutation ritual. That way, ordinary matter could be converted into new magical ingredients as needed!
‘Just like how the Flamels kept an endless supply of Elixir on hand!’ I thought to myself.
“I don’t like that smile you’re wearing on your face, boss,” Merula said nervously.
“Oh, just thinking that I might have invented a post-scarcity society completely by accident,” I replied, letting out a chuckle that had her cringe.
I then turned to face Merula. “Okay, go with the five-year semi-magical version for now. I’ll send samples of it up the chain so it can be approved for medical testing. Though with Sir Briar’s support I won’t have too many troubles in that regard. Keep on doing great work!”
I then let out a laugh as I walked out, all new ideas swirling around in my head.
“Still creepy, boss!” she shouted at me as I left.
I didn’t care. I’d just found the cheat code for civilization!
