Leonard couldn't take the Philosopher's Stone from the Mirror of Erised either. He understood that much even before trying.
Dumbledore had placed an enchantment on the mirror. Only someone who wished to obtain the Philosopher's Stone but had absolutely no intention of using it could retrieve it from the Mirror of Erised.
For Voldemort and Quirrell, that was impossible.
They needed the stone to prolong their lives. They didn't just want it, they wanted to exploit it.
Which meant Harry Potter's long journey, fighting through obstacle after obstacle to stop them, was completely unnecessary. That so-called effort to thwart a grand conspiracy was nothing more than a child's chuunibyou fantasy.
Dumbledore wasn't senile. He would never give Voldemort a real chance to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
And for Leonard, the magic on the Mirror of Erised applied just the same.
Leonard wasn't a righteous protagonist like Harry "Zero-Two-Seven" Potter, someone who could selflessly take out the stone purely to keep it away from Voldemort.
Leonard had selfish desires. He coveted treasures, and he wanted to use them.
Otherwise, why would he want the Philosopher's Stone at all? To admire it?
Still, the stone wasn't something Leonard absolutely needed. That meant he could look into the mirror without longing for it.
And that was exactly where the problem lay.
Without desire, he wouldn't crave the stone, and without craving it, he couldn't obtain it. But the moment he truly desired it, that desire would inevitably include wanting to use it, which also made it unobtainable.
In that sense, the Mirror of Erised was really Dumbledore's trick. A scheme designed to frustrate Voldemort, or anyone who coveted the Philosopher's Stone, to death.
Leonard, however, wasn't worried in the slightest.
He watched the mirror with genuine interest, its surface rippling like water, studying the reflection of himself within it, curious about what his heart truly desired.
Sometimes, people don't actually know what they want most. That thing called obsession.
Some think they crave wealth, when in reality they just want to give their family a better life.
Some believe they long for revenge, but what they truly miss is the happiness that existed before hatred took root.
People find it hard to see themselves clearly, and even harder to see into their own hearts.
Because people are very good at lying to themselves.
In that sense, the Mirror of Erised had real value. It helped people recognize themselves and clarify the road ahead.
That was its true worth.
Not using it like Harry Potter did, treating it as a sentimental photo album and getting lost in memories.
"What do I actually crave?" Leonard murmured. "The Philosopher's Stone?"
The moment he said it, he shook his head.
The Philosopher's Stone was only a passing interest. It wasn't his deepest desire, let alone an obsession.
So what did he truly want?
Leonard watched the mirror as the image within began to change, growing more intriguing by the second.
Standing before him was an adult version of himself, a constant presence in the reflection. He stood there calmly, eyes indifferent, a faintly mocking smile on his lips.
The changes happened behind that mature Leonard.
Leonard saw green mountains and flowing waters wither and decay, only to be reborn again, over and over, like an endless cycle.
Mountains collapsed. Rivers dried up. The land reshaped itself. Waterways shifted their courses.
Just watching it brought a single phrase to Leonard's mind.
The turning of seas into fields.
And amid all that rapid change, Leonard himself never changed.
He remained an adult, not aging a single day, unchanged in every sense.
"What is this?" Leonard frowned. "Immortality? Undying, indestructible? Is this what I want?"
Honestly speaking, as someone who had died once and lived again, Leonard always thought he wouldn't care that much about lifespan.
But apparently, the Mirror of Erised disagreed.
"If that's the case, then it makes sense that I don't crave the Philosopher's Stone."
The stone never appeared in the reflection at all, and Leonard finally understood why.
If he wanted true immortality, the Philosopher's Stone was useless.
The Elixir of Life made from it could prevent death, but it couldn't stop aging or decline.
Watching himself grow old, little by little…
That kind of fear was something Leonard wasn't sure he could endure.
"So my obsession is actually pretty high-level," Leonard muttered. "Ordinary magic probably won't cut it. If I want true immortality…"
His eyes slowly narrowed.
"Then maybe only those ancient wizards who were once called gods had any real chance."
The problem was that this hope was incredibly distant.
Back then, ancient magic had been abundant, yet those ancient wizards vanished all the same. No one knew whether they were alive or dead.
Now that ancient magic was fragmented and incomplete, trying to reach the level of those godlike wizards of the past…
The difficulty was about the same as the national football team winning the World Cup.
In other words, impossible.
"Whatever. I'll think about that later."
Leonard shrugged.
A silver vortex appeared in his eyes as his magical vision activated. The physical world faded from view, leaving behind only magic in its purest form.
In that strange vision, Leonard immediately spotted a massive, blood-red, condensed mass of magic hidden behind the mirror.
There was no doubt about it.
That was the Philosopher's Stone.
It was hazy and indistinct, as though concealed behind a veil.
And that veil was the Mirror of Erised itself.
"Hidden behind the mirror… Under normal circumstances, only someone who wants the stone but doesn't intend to use it can take it…"
Leonard thought it over.
There was no such person here.
Which meant he'd have to try a different approach.
Leonard considered using force.
He didn't fully understand how the Mirror of Erised worked, nor what would happen to the Philosopher's Stone if the mirror were destroyed.
But he didn't really care.
He just wanted to try. He wasn't desperate for the stone.
His obsession was clear. It had nothing to do with the Elixir of Life.
What he wanted was eternal youth and immortality.
Not immortality through decay.
"I'll use Fiendfyre," Leonard decided. "Let's see if letting it devour magic can interfere with this barrier."
To anyone else, the idea would sound like pure fantasy.
But for Leonard, it was easy.
After all, the hardest part of Fiendfyre was control.
Most people couldn't precisely guide it to consume the magic on the mirror without damaging the Philosopher's Stone.
Leonard could.
His Fiendfyre was obedient enough to behave like a well-trained puppy.