What if The Philosopher's Stone Was Never Destroyed

Discord:   / discord   Voice Acting & Narration: Steven Waters ⁨@bobablackfly602⁩ Writing: Myself, @khuz377 , @viktoriafilbert What if the Philosopher's Stone was never destroyed? Let's explore the depths of it in the video. Sunlight streams through the tall windows of the Hospital Wing. Harry Potter lies in a white bed, bandages wrapped around his hands where Quirrell's skin blistered and burned against his touch. Three days have passed since the underground chambers, and the ache has settled deep into his bones. Dumbledore sits at his bedside. In his lap rests a small oak chest, bound with silver clasps. Inside it — the Philosopher's Stone. He turns it over in his weathered hands, and the light catches its edges, deep crimson like old blood. DUMBLEDORE (elderly): Harry, I want you to understand something. Nicolas and I have spoken at length. We have agreed that this Stone — The doors of the Hospital Wing swing open. Cornelius Fudge strides in, lime-green bowler hat tucked under his arm. Behind him, Lucius Malfoy glides across the stone floor, silver-topped cane tapping with each step. Two Aurors flank them. FUDGE (middle-aged): Dumbledore. Forgive the intrusion. There is nothing apologetic about the way he says it. Fudge pulls a rolled scroll from his coat and holds it out. FUDGE: Emergency Decree for the Seizure of Dangerous Artefacts. Passed by the Wizengamot this morning. Given the events of this year — a dark wizard infiltrating your staff, students nearly killed — the Ministry has no choice but to assume protective custody of the Philosopher's Stone. Dumbledore does not take the scroll. He looks at it the way a man looks at a stain on his carpet. Then he looks at Fudge. Then, very slowly, at Malfoy. DUMBLEDORE: Cornelius. Sit down. FUDGE: I don't think that's — DUMBLEDORE: Cornelius, there is a chair beside you. I think you'll want to be sitting for this conversation. Fudge hesitates. Something in Dumbledore's tone makes him pull the chair out and sit. Even Malfoy's cane stops tapping. DUMBLEDORE: This Stone is the property of Nicolas Flamel. He placed it in my care willingly, and the protections around it held for the better part of a year. I should remind you — the Stone was not taken. One might argue that is the very definition of success. FUDGE: A student nearly died, Dumbledore. An eleven-year-old boy fought a Dark wizard in the basement of your school. DUMBLEDORE: And he survived. Because the protections held. Because the staff of this school — myself included — ensured that Voldemort did not succeed. Fudge flinches at the name. Malfoy's expression does not change. DUMBLEDORE: You are proposing to take an artefact of extraordinary power from a secure location and place it in the Ministry of Magic. A building staffed by hundreds of people, many of whom could be compromised, bribed, or coerced. With all respect, Cornelius — I fail to see how that constitutes an improvement. Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He has never seen Dumbledore like this — calm, precise, and cutting, like a scalpel. FUDGE: The Wizengamot has voted, Dumbledore. This is not a request. DUMBLEDORE: The Wizengamot voted on a decree they were shown this morning. Tell me, Cornelius — who drafted it? Who placed it on the agenda? Who arranged for the vote before I could be notified? MALFOY (middle-aged, smooth): The decree was authored by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Headmaster. I merely supported it as a concerned governor. Surely you are not suggesting that a legal act of the Wizengamot was somehow improper? DUMBLEDORE: I am suggesting that the timing is remarkably convenient, Lucius. He looks at Malfoy as he says it. The look lasts exactly long enough to mean something. DUMBLEDORE: Give me forty-eight hours, Cornelius. Allow me to contact Nicolas Flamel directly — FUDGE: I cannot do that. A silence follows, longer than the one before it. Dumbledore reads the scroll one more time, line by line, and understands with cold clarity what resisting this decree would cost. Hearings. Headlines. Harry in the centre of it all, an eleven-year-old boy used as evidence of his headmaster's recklessness. Malfoy would ensure every moment was as damaging as possible. Dumbledore stands. He seems older than he did a moment ago. He lifts the oak chest. His thumb traces the silver clasp. And then he holds it out to Fudge, and his hand is steady, and his voice is quiet.