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Although they had reached a consensus, actually pulling it off was way out of their league.
Newt had dumped all his skill points into Magizoology. When it came to spell invention—especially complex ritual magic like the Animagus process—he was just as clueless as Tom.
As for Tom? He was totally stumped. Sure, he could use his overpowered, reality-bending instincts to skip the tedious casting steps, but that only worked for him.
If they wanted to cash in on those Galleons—wait, no, if they wanted to cure those poor, unfortunate Obscurials—they absolutely needed a reproducible spell or ritual. Unless the plan was for Tom to personally treat every single Obscurial in the world for the rest of his life.
And Tom was absolutely not doing that. He was here to enjoy his luxurious human-slash-cat life, not clock in for a 9-to-5 grind! A little side quest here and there was fine, but if he had to become a full-time doctor, he'd rather just walk away from the money.
Newt nodded in complete agreement. A hobby was only fun until it became a job. It was the same with his magical creatures.
Back in the day, if someone wanted to learn about magical beasts, Newt was thrilled to share his expertise. But now that he was officially a Hogwarts professor, he actually found himself resenting the obligation.
It wasn't that he hated sharing knowledge—he was still happy to help kids who approached him after class. He just hated the forced, rigid structure of teaching a curriculum.
Anyway, back to the problem at hand. Their mutual lack of spell-crafting knowledge had brought their research to a grinding halt.
Newt tried looking to Tom for inspiration. Even though Tom could skip the actual spellcasting, he still liked to set up completely meaningless, elaborate "rituals" just for the aesthetic (and mostly to screw with people).
But when Newt saw the prep work for Tom's latest ritual, he immediately abandoned that idea.
"You want to take Swedish fermented herring, Icelandic fermented shark, balut, blue cheese, and fermented Greenland seabird, bake it all into a traditional British Stargazy Pie... and then eat it?!" Newt looked horrified. "Are you researching magic, or auditioning for Fear Factor? If this is a real ritual, I dare you to demonstrate it right now!"
"And look, I know rituals are all about symbolic meaning, but shouldn't a magical ritual at least look magical?" Newt stared blankly at the recipe. He didn't even want to think about what that pie smelled like.
[Why the hell would I try it? I'm not an idiot. Plus, I don't even need the ritual to use the magic!] Tom rolled his eyes. He had already explained that this "ritual" was just a sick prank he dreamed up for fun. Why was Newt taking it so seriously?
[And what exactly is a ritual 'supposed' to look like? Do I have to draw a pentagram, surround myself with spooky crystals, and chant in Latin while doing a rain dance? Why can't cooking be a ritual!]
"Well, it's not that," Newt replied, surprisingly entirely unbothered by Tom's logic. "It's just that a magical ritual should probably involve, you know, magical ingredients. What if we added a splash of Bubotuber pus? And maybe some diced Mimbulus mimbletonia? That would give it a real kick~"
Tom was genuinely taken aback. He expected Newt to be a stuffy traditionalist and correct him. Instead, the old man was happily brainstorming ways to make the nightmare pie even worse.
But then Tom remembered Newt's rap sheet. The guy wasn't exactly a rule-following choir boy. Back in his youth, Newt had broken half the laws in the magical world.
Even now, several Ministries of Magic still had active bans on him entering their countries. Sure, it never actually stopped Newt from sneaking across borders, but the bans were still on the books.
"You know, this ritual might actually be effective," Newt mused thoughtfully, stroking his chin after they had significantly expanded the 'recipe.'
[?]
Tom slowly spelled out a question mark in fiery letters. Was he serious? They had literally just spent ten minutes trying to invent the most biologically toxic pie in existence.
It was a prank. Pure and simple. If anyone actually believed this was a real spell, Tom was going to put them on a list of gullible idiots to sell snake oil to later.
How was Newt, of all people, falling for his own joke?
Before Tom could start pitching him multi-level marketing schemes, Newt chuckled. "Of course, this wouldn't be a ritual to help Obscurials control their power. This would be a ritual to create an Obscurus in a normal kid."
"Think about it. Rituals require the wizard to perform the steps themselves. If you force a kid to cook this absolute sensory nuke of a pie, and then make them actually eat it..." Newt shuddered. "If it were me, I'd be traumatized away from magic for the rest of my life."
[...]
Tom was stunned into silence by the cheerful look on Newt's face. Two guys trying to cure Obscurials had just accidentally invented a foolproof method for creating them. Was this some kind of sick, dark humor?
[Probably wouldn't work,] Tom signed eventually. [Unless the kid knew what they were making, and believed eating it would affect their magic.]
If regular psychological trauma was enough to create an Obscurus on its own, Harry would have turned into a literal bomb years ago.
Just thinking about Harry's childhood in the cupboard under the stairs made Tom feel suffocated. People could try to justify the Dursleys' behavior all they wanted, but the fact remained: they had caused permanent, undeniable damage to that kid.
It was completely different from someone like Draco. Sure, Draco would do some messed-up things in the future, but right now, he was just a spoiled brat who could still be fixed.
If basic emotional abuse was enough to spawn an Obscurus, Harry would be living in an orphanage right now.
Actually, if it were Wool's Orphanage, that would be incredibly ironic, Tom thought darkly.
"Fair point," Newt nodded after reading Tom's fiery text. He was just joking anyway; he didn't actually think the nightmare pie was a viable bio-weapon.
Seeing them finally drop the subject, Ariana let out a massive sigh of relief. When they first started brainstorming ways to make the recipe worse, she was legitimately terrified!
If they had forced her to cook that unholy abomination and eat it... she would rather just die a second time!
Wait a minute. I'm a ghost now. I literally can't die again, and I can't taste or smell anything anyway. Oh. Never mind then, she realized.
"So, you two are trying to invent a spell to stabilize an Obscurus, but you're completely stuck, so you came to ask me for help. Is that right?"
After hitting a brick wall with their spell-crafting, Tom and Newt had finally swallowed their pride and sought outside help. Namely, the most experienced wizard in the castle: Dumbledore.
They could have asked Nicolas Flamel, but Tom hadn't even finished his basic alchemy curriculum yet. Bothering the centuries-old master to teach him advanced spell invention felt a little disrespectful.
To Newt, asking Dumbledore was a no-brainer. The man had been his professor; going to him for homework help felt completely natural.
So, they had teamed up and marched into the Headmaster's office. After listening to their pitch, Dumbledore had summarized their problem perfectly.
(Nicolas: Are you kidding me? That's six hundred years of accumulated knowledge! Do you think you can just 'finish' it in a few weeks?! ...Wait, you're almost done? Never mind then.)
[Exactly. For the sake of those Galleo—I mean, for the sake of the Obscurials' futures, I feel a deep, moral obligation to cure them!] Tom declared righteously.
You totally meant Galleons. And how the hell did you manage to create a 'slip of the tongue' in written text?! Both Dumbledore and Newt thought simultaneously.
But Dumbledore was well-used to Tom's bullshit by now. He looked at the two of them with amused eyes. "Ariana mentioned you two had already mocked up a ritual? May I see it?"
Ariana, standing off to the side, looked outraged. ?
When did I ever say that?! Stop putting words in my mouth, Albus! You definitely just spied on us!
"We do have something, but..." Newt's face twisted in agony. He had just been goofing off. He never expected Dumbledore to actually want to see the bio-hazard pie recipe!
"It's quite alright. It doesn't matter if it's a bit abstract," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "After all, before the Animagus ritual was finalized, no one would have guessed that holding a leaf in your mouth for a month would turn you into an animal, right?"
He had learned from the portraits that the two of them had designed a ritual, but the paintings had firmly refused to give him the details.
Whenever he asked, the subjects in the paintings would aggressively change the subject, looking deeply traumatized. If he pushed, they would make expressions of pure disgust and literally run out of the frames in his office.
That reaction had only fueled Dumbledore's curiosity. He didn't think Tom and Newt were brewing dark magic—Newt's moral compass was too strong to let Tom go off the deep end—but the portraits' sheer terror was fascinating.
He decided to take this opportunity to see exactly what they had concocted.
What do we do? Newt frantically signaled Tom with his eyes. He absolutely could not show Dumbledore that dark, shameful recipe.
(?) Tom looked back at him, wide-eyed and innocent. Who are you asking? Me? I'm just a little kitty cat! What kind of dark secrets could a kitty cat have? I know nothing~
Tom cheerfully looked away, completely breaking eye contact and leaving Newt out to dry.
Help me! Save me! Newt panicked. Without Tom to share the blame, the weight of Dumbledore's expectant, burning gaze landed squarely on his shoulders. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. There was no way he could hand that paper over!
"Is something wrong, Newt? Are you feeling unwell? Should I call for Tina—"
"No! I'm fine! That's completely unnecessary!"
At the mere mention of his wife's name, Newt instantly straightened his spine. He put on his best, most serious face. "It's just a ritual draft! I'll get it. Here!"
Newt looked like he was marching to his execution as he pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and slapped it onto Dumbledore's desk. "Here you go, Professor. This is the ritual we developed. Tom did basically all the work. I just offered a few insignificant suggestions."
[? You literally contributed half the ingredients!] Tom whipped around, staring at Newt in utter betrayal. He thought he had finally found a kindred spirit, but the old man had just thrown him under the bus without a second thought!
Faced with Tom's furious glare, Newt pulled the exact same move Tom had just used—he guiltily looked away and refused to make eye contact. If you're going to play dirty, so am I. Besides, he wasn't technically lying. Tom did invent the pie; Newt just sprinkled some magical bio-waste on top.
"Let's see here... ah... um... very creative," Dumbledore murmured as he picked up the paper. His warm smile slowly froze in place. Seriously, what is wrong with you two? Is this even edible?!
But then he reconsidered. It wasn't like he was going to eat it. And it was just a rough draft, not the final authorized medical procedure. By the time it was published, it would be entirely different. Dumbledore relaxed.
And when Dumbledore relaxed, his playful side came out. Looking at the "miracle ritual" the duo had cooked up, he grabbed a quill and thoughtfully jotted down a few additions.
"?"
Tom and Newt, who had been busy glaring daggers at each other, stopped and leaned in to see what Dumbledore was doing.
"Ah, much better. If we're going to do this, we must aim for perfection," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "You can't have a masterpiece like this without a little candy, can you?"
He had literally just added Cockroach Clusters and Lemon Drops to the recipe.
Newt and Tom exchanged horrified looks. They never realized Dumbledore's sweet tooth was this sadistic!
"I don't think just having the recipe is enough," Dumbledore said, completely ignoring their stares. He looked over at a stunned Ariana with a bright, grandfatherly smile. "Since it's a new magical ritual, we obviously have to run a clinical trial. Wouldn't you agree, Ariana?"
"You're completely right, Albus—wait, what did you just say?!"
Ariana, who had instinctively agreed out of habit, suddenly froze as the sheer horror of her brother's words hit her.
Wait a minute. Besides her... was there literally any other Obscurial available to be their test subject?!