Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"So… what exactly do you want me to do?"
Dumbledore hesitated for just a moment before answering.
"I want you to help Harry," he said gently.
"Specifically—by letting him learn about Nicolas Flamel."
Lucien blinked.
"…Hasn't my brother already found that information?"
Dumbledore coughed lightly.
"Not yet."
Lucien stared at him.
"…How long have they been searching?"
"A week," Dumbledore admitted.
"And then they stopped."
Lucien sighed and rubbed his temple.
"That explains a lot."
The portraits murmured in agreement.
Without another word, Lucien reached into his personal storage space and withdrew a thick, old-looking book. He flipped through it with practiced ease and stopped at a marked section, turning the book so Dumbledore could see.
"This spell," Lucien said calmly, "is from the Peverell House archives."
Dumbledore leaned forward, eyes sharpening as he read.
"A dream-transmission spell…?" he murmured.
Lucien nodded.
"It sends information directly to the target while they sleep. To them, it feels like they personally experienced it."
Dumbledore straightened, clearly impressed.
"This is… advanced. Very advanced."
"It is," Lucien agreed. "If used on a normal person, they'd fall into deep sleep for nearly a week."
The portraits gasped.
"But," Lucien continued evenly, "Ron Weasley will be fine."
Dumbledore paused.
"…Why?"
Lucien closed the book.
"Because his brain is mostly occupied by food, treasure fantasies, and bragging."
The room went silent.
Then—
Phineas Nigellus Black burst out laughing.
Dumbledore stared.
"You're certain?"
Lucien nodded.
"He sleeps around sixteen hours a day during holidays or free time."
The portraits recoiled in disbelief.
"Sixteen—?!"
"Merlin's beard!"
"What does he do when awake?!"
Lucien raised a hand.
"Don't ask how I know."
Dumbledore pressed his lips together, trying—and failing—not to smile.
"So," Lucien continued, businesslike, "here's the plan."
He ticked off points on his fingers.
"You write all relevant information about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone into a book."
"You place that book in a box."
"You hide the box somewhere inside Hogwarts."
"And then—"
He met Dumbledore's eyes.
"—use the spell on Ron Weasley for two nights."
Dumbledore frowned slightly.
"And you believe he'll find it?"
Lucien smiled faintly.
"With Ron's obsession for treasure?
He'll locate it faster than a Niffler in Gringotts."
The portraits roared with laughter again.
Dumbledore exhaled slowly… then nodded.
"…Very well," he said.
"We'll proceed as you suggest."
Lucien inclined his head politely.
"If that's all, Principal."
Fawkes chirped once as Lucien stood.
Dumbledore watched him go, a thoughtful expression settling over his face.
As the door closed, Phineas leaned forward in his frame.
"Albus," he said smugly,
"that boy just weaponized stupidity."
Dumbledore smiled tiredly.
"Yes," he said softly.
"And brilliantly."