Silver light echoed between the rock walls, giving rise to dark clouds.
Leonard, looking a little pale, panted heavily as he lowered his wand. He looked up at the clouds overhead and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
If not for the fact that this was the wrong place to cast the spell, he would not have been this exhausted. The main problem was that there were no clouds beneath the rock walls, so Leonard had needed to expend extra magic to gather and condense them.
Fortunately, the spell had still succeeded. Without any warning, heavy rain drifted down from the clouds and poured into the pit.
Dumbledore looked up at the falling raindrops, each one laced with silver magic.
Fawkes, perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, spread his wings to shield him from the rain. But when the drops landed on him, he froze for a moment, sensing a power within them that felt wonderfully comfortable as it flowed into his body.
That power gave Fawkes a strangely familiar feeling, almost like his own tears, and once it entered him, it even seemed to strengthen his flames.
Sensing the power in the rain, Fawkes quietly lowered his wings again.
The dense rain fell across Dumbledore's body, and that gentle yet abundant power flowed through him.
It was like a long drought finally broken by sweet rain. Dumbledore felt as though his body were parched earth being nourished back to life by the falling drops.
A miraculous power.
Dumbledore lifted a hand and saw that the skin on the back of it had become smoother and more lustrous.
That was only the change on the surface. What really mattered was what had happened inside him. The magic that had once moved with difficulty through his body now flowed as though blocked channels had been dredged clear.
In general, a wizard's strength followed a curve throughout life. In youth, magical power gradually grew stronger with age, peaking in middle age.
But after that, a wizard's power declined along with the deterioration of the body. That was an irreversible result, one even Nicolas Flamel, after living for more than five hundred years, had not been able to escape.
Dumbledore might be known as the most powerful wizard, but that reputation relied on his wisdom and the Elder Wand in his hand. His own power had long since diminished.
During the Second Wizarding War, if he had truly fought Voldemort, he might have been able to suppress him for a time, but over the long run, his aging body would have become a burden and led to his defeat.
But after being drenched in this rain, Dumbledore could feel his body recovering. It was nowhere near enough to restore him to the height of his strength in middle age, but it had still increased his power by about thirty percent.
And for Dumbledore, that extra thirty percent would be enough to bring down most wizards in the world.
So this was ancient magic. Its power was so wondrous that it could actually breathe new life into an aging body.
While Dumbledore was silently marveling at that, the rainwater falling to the ground began to gather and was absorbed by the trunk beneath the steps.
With a tremor, the steps slowly but steadily began to rise, carrying Dumbledore and Leonard upward toward the cliff above.
"Just like I thought," Leonard said, wiping the rain off his face as he looked at the moving stairs beneath his feet. "Using the power of ancient magic activates the mechanisms inside the ruins."
Dumbledore nodded, then looked at Leonard with a serious expression. "What is this magic?"
"What is it?" Leonard repeated blankly. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."
"I mean what it's called, and what it can do," Dumbledore said.
"I don't know its name. That wasn't part of the inheritance. As for what it does... quite a lot. It can heal injuries and sickness, and it can nourish plants, like the one under our feet." Leonard tapped the step with his foot.
Unfortunately, in Leonard's senses, this thing beneath them was not a magical plant. It was not even a plant at all. It was merely an artificial construct made to respond to a specific ancient spell, much like the stone statues in the first two ruins.
"Heal injuries?" Dumbledore murmured in wonder.
This spell was far more than simple healing. It could even restore vitality to elderly wizards. Most old wizards possessed deep experience and tremendous magical power, but their aging bodies limited what they could do.
If getting caught in this rain once could restore the vitality of the body, there would be countless elderly wizards seeking Leonard out for help.
This was a power capable of changing the entire balance of the wizarding world.
After all, the old wizards quietly staying home to do magical research were not peaceful because age had made them gentle. They were peaceful because age had left them with no energy to stir up trouble.
If they had even a little vitality left, it would never have been Voldemort, a youngster by comparison, running wild.
Who would have thought ancient magic possessed such a rotten-into-miraculous kind of power?
Dumbledore sighed inwardly, while at the same time wondering whether he should invite a few old friends to experience this rain.
If no one else, then Nicolas Flamel certainly needed to stand in it for a while. It might not let him live a few more years, but it would surely ease a body that had been worn down for centuries by the Elixir of Life.
Dumbledore knew very well that the Elixir of Life offered no benefit besides the curse of immortality. It made the drinker's body fragile and oversensitive.
Dumbledore was so focused on his thoughts that he neglected his surroundings.
As the rain continued to fall, a rustling sound began to rise from the floor of the pit. At first Leonard paid it no mind, assuming it was just the rain striking the stones. But before long, the noise grew louder and louder until it completely drowned out the sound of the rain itself.
Leonard stepped to the edge of the stairs and looked down. Under the light of Lumos Maxima, everything below was clearly visible.
The ground in the pit seemed to be moving like waves. At first Leonard thought it really was water rippling, but when he looked closely, the sight below made him suck in a sharp breath.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Leonard cried out. "Come look at this!"
Dumbledore snapped out of his thoughts and walked over. "What is it?"
"Down there." Leonard pointed at the ground, which was gradually falling farther away beneath them. "The earth is moving!"
Dumbledore looked down, and astonishment appeared on his face.
The "earth" was indeed moving, but it was not the ground at all. It was a mass of black crawling insects.
They looked like cockroaches, and they had come from those pebble-like things embedded in the ground.
Those had not been stones at all.
They had been eggs.
Just thinking about the fact that they had walked over those eggs moments ago, and seeing the churning tide of insects below, was enough to make even Dumbledore frown.