The support of the nobility was immediate. Voices from the galleries rose with fervor, decreeing that the challenge was sealed and must be fulfilled. It was a predictable reaction; not only because of class pride, but because I had moved the strings myself to ensure it. Andromeda, the new Lady of the House of Black, had done an impeccable job "playing politics" in the shadows, instigating key families to defend tradition at the precise moment.
Andromeda did not need to be present for her influence to be felt. In fact, I preferred she stay on the sidelines; Dumbledore was already alert enough regarding my relationship with her daughter without giving him additional reasons for suspicion. But, deep down, his surveillance no longer troubled me. Soon, Albus himself would be just another piece on my board. It was time to stop hiding and start moving the pieces with a more direct hand.
"I believe I can offer a solution to this disagreement," Dumbledore intervened, stepping forward with an apparent, unshakeable calm.
Neither Fudge, nor my father, nor Lucius himself seemed capable of finding an easy way out of this. Only a man like Dumbledore, with one foot in the past and the other in the present, could offer an alternative before the Atrium was stained with blood.
"It is true that young Weasley has invoked a rite of challenge from which there is no possible retraction under our current laws," Albus declared, casting a meaningful look at Amelia Bones and the Magical Security staff, hinting that the legal code was in urgent need of reform. "However, it is not unheard of for these duels to be resolved without the need to draw wands."
The old man stood in the center of the cleared space, his physical presence filling the void between Malfoy and my family.
"In cases such as this, where guilt and mutual accusations remain in a twilight of uncertainty, tradition allows for another type of confrontation... a dialectical agreement," Dumbledore proposed, locking a discrete but sharp scrutiny upon me. "Both families can negotiate, discuss, and reach a consensus, or seek a form of settlement that does not involve bloodshed. No one in this era wishes to see such carnage. Even the victor would have to carry the stigma of having exterminated an ancient lineage; a weight that history does not always forgive."
Dumbledore's gaze fell heavily upon my father and Lucius. His words were a political warning: in a Great Britain where pureblood families are a scarce and dwindling resource, the destruction of one would be an irreparable loss. Furthermore, after the spectacle of the notebook and the Jarjacha wand, the victor—whoever it might be—would not necessarily be seen as a hero.
By now, there was a reason why duels of honor had almost disappeared among modern wizards. Times had changed. Families could no longer afford to lose important members over matters of pride; the consequences were too dangerous.
That was why both my father and Lucius seemed to internally accept Dumbledore's proposal.
Even Lucius—who would likely suffer more if the conflict escalated—understood that he needed to opt for a quieter, more controlled confrontation. He could afford to increase the tension between our families or sow future disputes before planning how to destroy a second-year boy... but first, he had to clear his name regarding the notebook.
"I believe this is a matter that can be resolved through dialogue, without the need to resort to extreme measures," the old man reiterated. Although it was not the most common course of action, precedents existed. And, fortunately for me, they fit perfectly into my plans.
"It is the right thing to do," my father conceded, though his voice vibrated with tension. After seeing the nature of that notebook, rage burned in his gut, but Arthur was not a suicidal man. He knew a physical duel against Malfoy was a coin toss, and if he fell, his family would be left unprotected against a grim fate.
Lucius did not say a word; he merely huffed with calculated disdain and retreated toward a secluded area of the Atrium, seeking the privacy of a brick wall away from the reach of the curious. He would not give in publicly; he had to maintain the facade of the offended aristocrat. If he yielded too graciously, it would look as though he were buying his freedom.
"Wait!" I stepped forward, cutting off my father's path.
"Red!" my parents exclaimed in unison, fear etched on their faces.
"Son, this is not something you should involve yourself in," my mother stated, trying to nudge me toward where Ginny was waiting.
"I'm not 'getting involved,' Mom. I started this, and I must finish it," I replied gravely.
"Red, go back right now. I am the head of the Weasley family; it is my duty to take your place," my father said. There was no trace of recrimination in his eyes; my lie about protecting Ginny had struck that deep.
"It cannot be that way. Let me do this. Trust me." I held their gaze with icy determination. "It was I who discovered what was happening to Ginny. It was I who issued the challenge. I will do it."
My parents tried to move forward to stop me, but my guards' security cord stepped in with firm courtesy, blocking their path.
"Perhaps... we should trust him. He is usually a very... rational young man," Dumbledore intervened, trying to calm my parents. His eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles; the old man suspected that every word and gesture since I set foot in the Ministry had been rungs designed to reach this exact moment. He wanted to see what I was looking for.
Relieved somewhat by the Headmaster's word, my parents desisted, though their eyes did not leave my figure as I walked away toward where Lucius waited alongside Narcissa. Malfoy watched me with an intrigue he could not hide; he had expected to see Arthur, a predictable and emotional opponent. Instead, here was the youth who had caused all this.
"So, you have come..." Lucius spat, crossing his arms with a look of insidious malevolence. After the spectacle I had just put on, it was clear I was not exactly his favorite person in the world.
I didn't bother to respond. With a fluid, almost lazy movement, I slid my wand in a short arc. Lucius tensed, his hand flying toward his cane, but before he could conjure a defense, a veil of blood rose around us from nowhere: a crimson membrane that fell continuously like an infinite waterfall, isolating us completely from the rest of the Atrium.
The move was so unexpected that even Dumbledore frowned. It was a hermetic barrier that only allowed the outside world to see blurred shadows. I could feel Dumbledore's attempts to pierce the veil; his silent, discrete spells struck the membrane with increasing intensity, but to his astonishment, he could not perceive even a whisper. The magic I was employing surpassed his immediate understanding. If he wanted to know what was happening inside, he would have to physically break the membrane. The old man was now very frustrated.
Inside the crimson circle, Lucius was pointing his wand directly at my chest, but his expression was one of pure perplexity. He saw, with his own eyes, how my facade of the "wrathful brother and martyr" crumbled, giving way to an icy, almost weary calm.
"Lower the wand, Lucius. We will have plenty of time to kill each other in the future," I said, wearing a smile laden with indifference.
"What is... what is all this?" he asked, his voice still heavy with arrogance as he studied the wall of endlessly flowing blood.
"I believe you also prefer to discuss this in private, do you not?" I tucked my wand into my sleeve with total confidence.
"What is it you are looking for, boy?" he asked, his intrigue momentarily overcoming his hatred. My change in attitude had him disoriented.
"I want to propose a deal, Mr. Malfoy."
"A deal?" Lucius let out a huff that mixed doubt with irritation. "It seems I was not mistaken. All of this... every accusation... was orchestrated from the start."
"Yes, let's say it was," I replied with unsettling tranquility. "Though you know my accusation is real in essence. You tried to slip us that notebook, Lucius, even if it wasn't the same object the Headmaster incinerated. We both know the truth."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," he hissed, regaining his threatening tone, "but I hope you are prepared for the consequences of what you have done today. You have wounded Malfoy honor, and that is not paid for with words."
"You could waste your energy trying to prove I'm a liar, which you will find impossible given the circumstances," I held his gaze, taking a step toward him without showing any fear, "or you could listen to my offer. Believe me, it is in your best interest to be interested."
"And what in the world could a boy like you offer me?" Lucius spat with vibrating hatred. He loathed me, and with good reason; not only had I dragged his name through the mud, but I had shown him I was no ordinary child by intentionally provoking all of this.
"The Philosopher's Stone..." I dropped, without preamble.
Lucius stood stunned. His eyes widened with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me. I assume you know something of what occurred last school year..." I cracked my neck with an irritating leisure, as if we were discussing something trivial. "Draco mentioned it to you, you read it in the obituaries of its creator, or you heard it through your own sources. Regardless, you must know something... Yes, the Stone was at Hogwarts. And yes, Potter prevented the remnants of your former master from laying his hands on it."
My words fell like a sledgehammer on his head. Lucius was not terrified of the masterpiece of alchemy; he was terrified of the mention of his ex-master. As a deserter who had achieved impunity, the last thing he desired was the return of a Voldemort thirsty for punishment for "traitors." But the Stone... the Stone was another story. Like everyone else, he believed it had been destroyed or that Flamel kept it under impenetrable custody.
"Are you offering me... the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked, regaining a mask of tense mockery.
"The very same. The whole world believes it destroyed, but it is in my possession. And I am offering it to you as a wager."
"A wager?" Lucius arched an eyebrow, caught between incredulity and mistrust. "And what is it you intend to obtain in exchange, little Weasley?"
"Half of the entire fortune of the Malfoy family."
Lucius was on the verge of letting out a laugh, an instinctive reaction to what he considered a delusion of grandeur. But my expression did not change.
"As I said, this is a wager, not a simple exchange," I continued with a conspiratorial smile. "The duel of honor still stands. What I propose is that we both put a prize on the table: on my part, the most coveted object in the history of magic; on yours, fifty percent of your assets."
"And what makes you think I would risk the heritage of my ancestors just because a child claims to possess a legendary object?" he hissed, regaining his venom. "Do you think the world is a playground? Are you that naive?"
"I am anything but naive, Lucius. I understand your skepticism, but facts do not change in the face of doubt. I possess the ability to deliver to you a true, functional Philosopher's Stone, capable of transmutating lead into gold and distilling the Elixir of Life. And so that you stop doubting... I am willing to perform an Unbreakable Vow right now to back my words. My life for the truth of my offer. Would you believe me then?"