After mastering the brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion, Leonard began working on improvements. Of course, he couldn't really change the formula itself. Without Damocles Belby's vast knowledge and experience as a potions master, Leonard's only option was to experiment with the ingredients.
The Wolfsbane Potion contained three main botanical ingredients: mature aconite, belladonna, and rue. The first two were toxic and mildly hallucinogenic, while the third had antidotal properties. The other auxiliary ingredients were mostly sedatives.
Together, these ingredients turned the Wolfsbane Potion into a powerful tranquilizer, forcing werewolves to remain calm during the full moon so they could retain their sanity. But it did nothing to cure lycanthropy.
The only thing that supposedly could truly cure a werewolf was a spell called the Homorphus Charm, which allowed a transformed wizard to return to human form. Unfortunately, the elderly wizard who created it had been struck down by a buffoon named Gilderoy Lockhart, who used a Memory Charm to erase him.
"Although the Wolfsbane Potion's main function is sedation, most of the ingredients are really there to work with the primary component, aconite. If it were just about sedation, the werewolf would be forcibly calmed, not regain human consciousness," Leonard muttered as he reached for a piece of paper.
"Aconite is indispensable. Belladonna is only a support, while rue serves to neutralize toxins. The focus should be on reinforcing aconite. Belladonna doesn't need strengthening. Rue must be reinforced, though—otherwise, the enhanced aconite will kill the drinker..."
As Leonard was working through adjustments to the potion's ratios, Gray flew in through the window with a letter clamped in his beak. Leonard took it casually, tore it open, and saw that it was from Midgard.
The letter reported that Quirrell had ambushed a goblin outside and enslaved him with the Imperius Curse. It also named a meeting place—the same location where Leonard had once negotiated with Damocles Belby.
"So, you couldn't hold back any longer?" Leonard shredded the letter and tossed the scraps beneath the cauldron to burn.
It seemed Quirrell wasn't planning a direct assault on Gringotts but instead intended to slip inside by controlling goblins. That made sense. No matter how powerful Voldemort had once been, now he was just a fragment of a soul. Forcing his way through Gringotts' defenses was out of the question.
The approach was clever enough, but it didn't benefit Leonard. Unless Voldemort and Quirrell drew enough attention, Leonard's own attempt to seize Gringotts would become far more dangerous.
Without Voldemort, it would have been simple. Leonard could have used the concentrated Bitterthorn venom he'd gathered as a potent knockout agent. All he would need to do was toss it inside Gringotts, putting both Quirrell and the guards out cold. Then they could loot the place, wake Quirrell, and leave him behind as the scapegoat.
But Voldemort's existence made that plan impossible. Leonard had no idea whether Bitterthorn venom could even bring down Voldemort in his current condition. The risk was far too great.
However, Voldemort clearly knew nothing about Gringotts' defenses. A single Imperius Curse was nowhere near enough to break into a vault.
On the path leading to the vaults was a waterfall that washed away all magical effects, including the Imperius Curse and the transformations created by Polyjuice Potion.
Leonard rested one hand on the table, tapping it absently as he considered how Quirrell's infiltration attempt might play out.
"First, I should meet up with Midgard to discuss the action plan."
Leonard picked up his wand, pocketed several seeds of Chomping Cabbage and Bitterthorn, and left the Leaky Cauldron, heading toward the junction between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley.
Before long, he ran into Marcus, who led him to Midgard, her face tight with worry.
"Leonard." Midgard let out a breath of relief when she saw him. "What should we do now? Should we abandon the plan? That man doesn't seem intent on forcing his way into Gringotts."
"Abandon it? Think about how much money you have left. Do you really want to go back to living in such desperation?"
With just a few words, Leonard struck right at the core of her worries, urging her on.
Midgard was softer-hearted than Fenrir and held a stronger sense of kinship. She couldn't bear to see members of her race, those unwilling to descend into depravity, suffer and struggle. And the only way to spare them from that suffering now was to secure enough Galleons.
"But if we rob them, aren't we no different from Fenrir and his lot?" Midgard hesitated.
"Of course we're different. Our target is the property that goblins stole from wizards. How could that possibly compare to Fenrir's petty extortion and banditry?"
Leonard's voice rang with conviction. "Their actions are nothing but the antics of common thugs. What we're doing is robbing the rich to aid the poor."
"But we never planned on aiding the poor."
"Then answer me this—are you poor, or not?"
"Seems like we are pretty poor."
"Well then, there you go. Rob the rich goblins, and aid ourselves, the poor. Nothing wrong with that."
A starving dog has no choice.