Chapter 39: Completely Without Caution

Night descended. After the last guest departed, Tom, the innkeeper, flicked his wand to extinguish most of the oil lamps in the Leaky Cauldron, leaving only a pool of light around the counter.

It was for late-night arrivals—after all, the pub doubled as an inn. Still, such guests were rare, and most nights Tom simply dozed at the counter, elbows propped up.

Time passed quietly, broken only by the sound of his snores. Then, a black-robed figure slipped soundlessly down the stairs. Skirting the counter's glow, he moved toward the back door.

A jet-black serpent was coiled around his neck, its tongue flickering in the dark, its eyes glinting with sly malice.

"Completely unguarded. Without me, this wizarding world has truly decayed," the snake hissed.

"Yes… these ignorant fools have already forgotten the fear you once commanded. Pathetic," Quirinus Quirrell murmured in agreement. Man and serpent slipped out through the back, heading toward Diagon Alley.

The grinding of bricks at the doorway stirred Tom from his sleep. He blinked groggily, half rising—only to catch a faint herbal fragrance. Drowsiness swept over him. With a yawn, he sagged back onto the counter, fast asleep once more.

Leonard emerged from the shadows, capping the vial of sleep-inducing extract before it could evaporate further.

"And this is the Dark Lord? No vigilance whatsoever," Leonard muttered with scorn.

Neither Quirrell nor Voldemort had noticed he'd been watching them all along. Not that Leonard hadn't been careful.

To avoid stumbling across Quirrell and his master unprepared, he had kept quiet watch over where Quirrell stayed. Perhaps the habit was un-wizardlike enough that it slipped under their notice.

"Out at this hour… must be scouting Gringotts," Leonard thought, glancing at the snoring Tom before turning to the back door.

Gringotts was no easy target. The Dark Lord of old could have stormed it alone. But Quirrell? Not a chance. Between goblin enchantments and Auror patrols, even the reckless wouldn't dare.

"Best steer clear of that place for now," Leonard muttered, pulling up his hood before slipping out the back.

...

Ten minutes later, Leonard reached the same crossroads where he had last met Midgard. There stood Marcus, the taciturn middle-aged werewolf.

This time, Marcus looked stronger, healthier. When he saw Leonard, a flicker of a smile seemed to pass over his face.

Or perhaps it was Leonard's imagination—when he looked again, the werewolf's expression was as stern as ever.

Under Marcus's lead, Leonard entered the courtyard where the werewolves gathered. In the same room as before, Midgard awaited him, radiant as ever.

Marcus took up his place at the doorway, standing guard.

"Looks like you've been doing well lately," Leonard greeted as he stepped inside.

"Thanks to you, not bad at all," Midgard replied with a smile.

"So, what did you want me for? If it was urgent, wouldn't it have been easier to send a letter through the owl post? Did you actually wait for my owl?" Leonard slouched into a chair, resting against the back and watching her.

"I've been under Ministry surveillance. Fenrir's death isn't a trivial matter, and plenty of people are after the contacts he left behind. I haven't dared step into Diagon Alley lately," Midgard explained. "I called you here to give you a gift."

"A gift?" Leonard perked up immediately. Ollivander had just given him something excellent, so Midgard's offering was bound to be good as well.

"A magical plant. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what it is. It's alive, highly sensitive to magic, and not aggressive." Midgard turned and brought out a small flowerpot, setting it before Leonard.

Inside was a slender stalk that resembled a sensitive plant. A faint blue vein ran up from its root through the stem to its leaves, giving it an oddly mysterious look.

The moment it appeared, the System chimed in:

[You have obtained a magical plant: Ancient Sprout]
[You gained 100 experience points. Current Level: Intermediate Plant Apprentice (191/500)]

Ancient Sprout? Just acquiring it gave him 100 points?

Leonard studied the plant in surprise, trying to discern what made it so special. Other than the faint blue lines, nothing about it seemed remarkable.

"You didn't ask where this came from? Its origin?" Since Midgard had assured him it wasn't dangerous, Leonard reached out to brush the leaves.

It was definitely alive. The plant responded to his touch, bending toward him and curling its leaves around his fingers like a puppy begging for affection.

"I did. The wizard who found it said it came from some ruins—ones that have long since been stripped bare. This was the only thing he discovered. I even asked Jigger, but he didn't know either." Midgard shook her head. "Anyway, it's harmless. You can have it."

"You said it's sensitive to magic. Sensitive how?" Leonard asked curiously.

"Oh, whenever someone nearby casts magic, it points them out. It's actually quite interesting," Midgard explained.

It can reveal the position of anyone using magic?

Leonard fell into thought.

That ability sounded incredibly useful. He couldn't help but wonder how it might evolve once enhanced.