Chapter 76 Farewell at the Station Before Summer Vacation
Unawares, the young Wizards and witches of Hogwartshad already packed their luggage.
The wardrobe that was stuffed to the brim just a moment ago was now empty, with everything packed into trunks.
At nine o'clock in the morning, the students boarded the Hogwarts Express on time.
The compartment was lively; everyone was chatting about their holiday plans and eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
The scenery outside the window was constantly changing; the countryside grew greener, and Muggle towns flashed past one after another outside the carriage window, with streets and houses looking neater than when they first set off.
Some people took off their Wizard robes and changed into jackets and short coats. At the same time, everyone had an extra notice from the school in their hands.
The content was very simple and quite unappealing — — During the holidays, students are not allowed to use magicoutside of school.
Hermione looked at the notice and couldn't help sighing. She stuffed "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1" into her backpack, her face full of regret.
"I originally wanted to take advantage of the holiday to practice a few more spells."
"What's there to worry about?" Draco leaned back in his seat, shaking his head triumphantly, "I can use my father's wand. The Ministry of Magic's Trace doesn't monitor adult Wizards anyway. Once I learn new spells, I'll show them to you when school starts."
Ian happened to be teasing the little green snake beside Harry, and upon hearing this, he casually said: "Draco, you'd better behave yourself. Don't go around making trouble during the holiday."
Draco immediately curled his lips: "Ian, I don't believe you'll obediently obey and not use magic the entire summer vacation. That kind of thing doesn't sound like something you would do at all."
"So I plan to practice Non-verbal spellcasting and wandless magic during the summer vacation." Ianshrugged, his tone as relaxed as if he were talking about a trivial matter, "Striving to be able to use them proficiently before the third year. That way, the Ministry of Magic won't be able to detect the Trace either."
"Third year?" Draco's voice suddenly rose, "You plan to master wandless magic by the third year? Ian, I admit you are very talented, but isn't this way too fast!"
"Is it fast?" Ian tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled, "It's alright."
Yet in his heart, he couldn't help muttering to himself.
Achieving basic application only by the third year, is that already considered fast?
In the fanfiction he had read in his past life, the predecessor transmigrators were all like they had cheats enabled, able to use wandless magic like a pro right upon entering the first year. Even more outrageously, they could even cast large-scale destructive spells like Avada Kedavra casually.
If he could also reach this level in the first year, why would he still need to pretend to be a well-behaved child in front of Dumbledore? Destroying one Voldemort Horcrux a year—it wouldn't need to be that troublesome at all.
He could just pull Dumbledore down from the Headmaster's seat, sit on it himself, and then slap Voldemort until he had no temper left at all.
Of course, thoughts like these could only be imagined in his head.
"Isn't that fast enough?" Draco glared at him, speechless, "Do you know how hard wandless magic is? Many adult Wizards never learn it in their entire lives!"
"Someone has to be able to do it." Ian smiled, "Since others can learn it, of course I can too. Didn't Professor Dumbledore say? I am the most talented young Wizard he has ever seen, not even that big-head can compare to me. Who else can learn Ancient Magic in the first year?"
Draco rolled his eyes: "Fine, geniuses are just different."
Harry listened for a while and finally couldn't help leaning over.
"Ian, I roughly understand Non-verbal spellcasting, but what on earth is wandless magic? Can you really not even use a wand?"
"Of course you can." Ian nodded and explained, "When your magic control reaches a certain level, you can cast spells without a wand. Powerful Wizards like Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall can easily do it."
Harry's eyes instantly lit up: "That's amazing! I wonder when I'll be able to reach their level. Why don't I practice hard this holiday too, striving to master Non-verbal spellcasting and wandless magic before the third year."
Cassandra poured a bucket of cold water on him on the spot: "Ian being able to do it doesn't mean you can too. Harry, you haven't even fully learned wand-casting yet, and you're already thinking about wandless magic? Sleep a little less, and maybe you can catch up."
Harry's newly raised head immediately drooped. Ronbeside him looked at him, a look of sympathy showing on his face as well.
Hermione likewise agreed with Cassandra: "That's right, Harry, you'd better take it step by step. Don't always think about riding a rocket like Ian, we can't keep up with him."
In their view, Harry, this so-called "future big brother", was obviously no match for a true super genius like Ian. Master wandless magic by the third year? Don't even think about it. If Harry could fully master Non-verbal spellcasting by the sixth year, they would already think it was pretty good.
"Alright, alright." Harry sighed and accepted reality, "I get it."
Ian spread his hands, putting on an innocent look: "Harry, this isn't me, the younger brother, deliberately hitting your confidence. Stop staring at me."
The compartment instantly burst into laughter, and even Harry, who had just been dejected, joined in with a smile.
Right amidst this laughter, the train slowly drove into King's Cross Station.
After getting off, it took the students quite a while to leave the platform one after another. A skinny old guard was guarding the barrier, letting only three or four people through at a time, so as to avoid a large group of young Wizards going in and out of the wall at the same time and attracting Muggles' attention.
Ron pushed his luggage and said to the others: "This summer vacation you must all come to my house to play! Not a single one can miss. I will let the owl send letters and invite all of you over."
Harry, Ian, Hermione, and Cassandra all agreed, only Draco's expression looked a bit ugly.
"I won't go." He said dryly, "If my father finds out I ran off to the Weasley family, he might actually kill me."
Ron was obviously a bit disappointed, but quickly nodded understandingly.
After all, the relationship between Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy really couldn't be considered good. Whenever those two met, they were like two ignited dynamite kegs, ready to explode at any moment.
"Then you can come find me and Hermione." Ian smiled and took over the conversation, "Our home welcomes you anytime. Draco, surely your father won't even control you hanging out with me, right?"
At least not now.
By the fifth year, after Voldemort was resurrected, Lucius Malfoy would truly step in to stop them from continuing to associate. Of course, whether Draco would listen or not was another story.
Hermione hurriedly nodded: "Right, you can all come to our house. By then we can also go to the amusement park together, guaranteed to give you a completely different kind of fun."
"Then I'm definitely going!" Ron immediately agreed.
Harry and Draco also nodded along, only Cassandra's expression was getting more and more strange.
Our house?
Her gaze swept back and forth between Ian and Hermione.
Cassandra of course knew that Ian and Hermione grew up together since childhood, and their bond naturally wasn't something others could compare to. What's more, the girl Ian liked was her, and he had long regarded Mr. and Mrs. Granger as his own biological parents.
She understood all these logic.
Yet hearing the two of them subconsciously say "our house", her heart still felt inexplicably choked up a bit.
Ian noticed her expression and sighed softly in his heart. He couldn't make Hermione feel uncomfortable just to coax Cassandra.
Although he was indeed a bit of a scumbag, he was at least a scumbag with principles.
"Cassandra, do you want to come play with me and Hermione during the holiday?" Ian turned his head and flashed a smile at her, "You should come along too."
Cassandra's expression finally eased up a little bit. She let out a soft huff, deliberately putting on a reluctant look.
"Since you've invited me so sincerely, I suppose I'll reluctantly make the trip."
The few of them walked chatting and laughing toward the barrier. Along the way, students kept passing by, and some of them specifically stopped to say goodbye to the brothers Ian and Harry.
"Prefect Potter, see you when school starts!"
"Prefect Potter, goodbye!"
"Ian, Harry, bye-bye!"
Watching batch after batch of young Wizards coming over to greet them, Ron couldn't help clicking his tongue: "You two are really famous enough."
"Obviously, Ian is more popular." Harry pointed at the little witches who deliberately crowded around Ian to talk, but only nodded at him, "There's no me in their eyes at all, only Ian."
Draco silently shook his head: "Trust me, girls liking you too much isn't always a good thing sometimes."
Harry and Ron turned their heads simultaneously: "Huh? Do you know what you're talking about?"
"Look over there." Draco couldn't be bothered to explain, and directly reached out to twist the two's heads toward the direction where Hermione and Cassandra were.
The two little witches were glaring coldly at Ian.
They didn't say a single word, but that chill was already enough to make Harry and Ron shiver simultaneously.
The two's gazes looking at Ian were instantly filled with sympathy.
Straddling two boats was indeed a technical craft. If it were them, they probably would have been beaten to death by the two girls long ago.
At this moment, Ian suddenly saw the girl standing ahead.
"Alicia, turns out you're an American?" He asked curiously, "Then why did you want to come to Hogwarts? Isn't Ilvermorny good?"
The girl blinked at him: "Ian, just call me Bella. Although I'm American, my mom is British. And compared to Ilvermorny, I think Hogwarts is better."
She paused, then smiled somewhat helplessly: "When Professor McGonagall visited, she told my parents that Hogwarts is the best magic school in the entire world. The Professors over at Ilvermorny didn't even refute it, that says a lot already, right?"
"Besides that, I've always wanted to visit Britain. I wanted to know what my mom's hometown is actually like."
"I see." Ian nodded slightly, then asked again, "So now that you've seen Britain, how does it feel?"
"Very awesome." Bella's smile became even more obvious, "Whether it's the scenery here or the people, I like them all very much. Especially Hogwarts, I really love this school so much."
She looked up at the sky and continued: "I live in a small town in Washington State, it rains there often. The weather in Britain is quite nice though, I like it very much."
"I actually quite like rainy days." Ian said with a smile, "If there's a chance in the future, I will definitely go check out that small town you mentioned."
Of course he wasn't just thinking about watching the rain.
There were Vampires and Werewolves in Forks. If conditions permitted, he planned to pull those guys to his side before the war started, to deal with that no-nosed monster together.
Ian believed that those peace-loving magical creatures in Forks would surely gladly accept his threat...
No wait, his invitation.
After all, once Voldemort was resurrected, those people in the Wizarding World who didn't like fighting would surely have a hard time. Rather than getting beaten up individually, it's better to join hands and get rid of him.
Who said Voldemort only plagued Britain during his prime?
Although his influence couldn't compare to the first Dark Lord Grindelwald and didn't spread across all of Europe and America, he hadn't harassed the American Wizarding World any less. The Wizards over there must similarly wish Voldemort would disappear immediately.
"Then it's a deal." Bella said with a beaming smile, "Ian, you must come visit my home if you have the chance. Although Forks can't compare to a big city like London, it has its own flavor."
"Alright." Ian nodded, "We can write letters this summer vacation. You can just introduce Forks to me."
Saying that, he patted Hecate's cage: "I'll have Hecate help deliver the letter, it won't take even a day for it to fly there."
Bella also pointed to the owl beside her: "Snowy can deliver it too. That's my owl."
The two chatted quite congenitally, completely failing to notice that the expressions of Hermione and Cassandrabehind them were getting darker and darker.
"Ian, we should go." Hermione finally couldn't help grabbing his arm, pulling him to her side, "Mom and Dad must be waiting anxiously, whatever it is we can talk about it after school starts."
Ian stunned for half a second, then immediately understood. Hermione was jealous.
He immediately smiled and nodded: "Alright, let's go."
Before leaving, he waved at Bella: "Bella, see you when school starts."
"Goodbye, Ian..."
Bella looked at Ian, who was being pinched by the waist on the left and right by two little witches, her face full of confusion.
Why were they pinching Ian?
Did Ian do something bad?
Bella was puzzled, Bella was blank, Bella completely couldn't understand.
Ian also noticed her gaze, and hurriedly turned his head to glare at Hermione and Cassandra.
"Hey hey hey, this is outside, save some face for me." He complained in a lowered voice, "There are still so many people nearby."
The two girls only then let go of their hands, instead each hooking one of his arms. They stood side by side beside Ian, unhesitatingly declaring sovereignty toward Bella.
Bella's expression became even more bewildered, but she didn't continue asking. As she was about to pass through the barrier, she waved at the few of them.
"See you when school starts, everyone."
"See you when school starts, Bella!" The few of them also waved goodbye to her.
Until Bella's figure completely disappeared, Cassandrareached out and pinched the soft flesh around Ian's waist, twisting it hard.
"Very well, Ian. You really are popular."
"Exactly." Hermione also gave him a pinch along with her, "That Bella kept pulling you along to chat. She is clearly my roommate right? Speak, what kind of relationship do you two actually have?"
"Relationship?" Ian's brain short-circuited, blurting out, "Hasn't happened yet!"
"Hasn't happened yet?"
The two girls' eyes squinted simultaneously, and the aura around them also became dangerous.
"Auw!"
Bella, who had already passed through the barrier, seemed to hear a miserable scream. She looked back in confusion.
Did she hear wrong?
That voice just now, why did it sound so much like Ian?
She must have heard wrong.
Bella shook her head, and urged by her parents, hurriedly walked out of the station.
Chapter 77: Leaving Privet Drive
Ian swallowed hard, meeting the two young witches' positively affectionate gazes, and forced out a smile. "I'm fine, Aunt Granger. Really, it's nothing."
Mrs. Granger nodded half-believingly, then looked at Cassandra Vole. "Hermione, Ian, is this the Cassandra you mentioned in your letters? She is so pretty."
"Thank you for the compliment." Cassandra Vole gave a poised smile. "My name is Cassandra Vole, and I'm a friend of Hermione and Ian."
"Especially Ian's friend."
She articulated the last few words with extra clarity, while pinching Ian at an angle invisible to others.
Ian's face almost scrunched up in pain, but he endured it stubbornly, not wanting Mr. and Mrs. Granger to notice anything amiss.
Hermione pulled Harry over to her parents and introduced them one by one. "Mum, Dad, these are Harry, Draco, and Ron—they're all our friends. Harry is also Ian's twin brother."
Seeing the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, Mrs. Granger's gaze instantly softened. She pulled Harry into her arms and said tenderly, "Poor child, you must have suffered a lot over the years, right?"
Harry had almost never been hugged like this before, and he awkwardly scratched his head. "N-No, I'm doing all right. Ma'am, there's one more thing—I've always wanted to thank you and Mr. Granger for taking care of Ian, I..."
"What's there to thank, you silly child." Mrs. Granger cut him off. "Call me Aunt Granger. Besides, Harry, if you don't mind, you can live with us."
Mr. Granger chimed in with a smile, "Right, Manchester will suit you very well. Our family isn't exactly wealthy, but raising three children is completely fine."
This wasn't an exaggeration. Mr. Granger was a dentist and Mrs. Granger was a lawyer; the couple's income had always been quite good.
Harry froze in place, and after a short moment, his eyes turned red.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger panicked a little. "Harry, why are you crying? If you aren't willing, we won't force you..."
"It's not like that." Ian shook his head helplessly. "Harry is just rather emotionally expressive."
Harry nodded frantically. "Ian is right, I'm just too emotional. Aunt Granger, I'm willing, I want to go."
"That's wonderful!" Hermione cried out happily. "That way Harry won't have to go back to his aunt's house anymore."
"With you brothers living together, you can look out for each other." Mr. Granger made the immediate decision. "It's settled then. When your aunt's family arrives, we'll make things clear with them, go pack your things, and then all go home together."
Harry nodded continuously, tears already swirling in his eyes.
After chatting for a while longer, the Vole family, the Weasley family, and the the Malfoy family arrived one after another.
"Ian! Harry!" Molly Weasley hurried over and pulled the two children straight into a hug. "Goodness, you two have been through so much this past year. Especially you, Ian."
Ian smiled obediently and said, "Mrs. Weasley, thank you too for the sweater you sent; it's very comfortable to wear and looks great."
"As long as you like it." Molly let go of them with a grateful face. "We really have to thank you for looking after that boy Ron, especially you, Ian. I've heard all about it—if it weren't for you, Ron he..."
"You're being too polite." Ian quickly waved his hands. "Ronand I are friends; helping each other out between friends is only natural."
Harry didn't know what else to add, so he could only nod repeatedly from the side. "Yes, yes."
"You're both good boys." Molly smiled. "Just call me Aunt Molly from now on. Your mother Lily and I used to be very good friends. When you have time during the holidays, come over to our place to play; we have quite a lot of kids, but it'll definitely be lively."
Ron poked his head out from the side. "Mum, I already arranged it with Harry and Ian, they're coming over during the holidays. Right?"
"Of course we will, Aunt Molly." Harry agreed firmly.
Ron suddenly glanced the other way and hurriedly pulled on Molly. "Mum, we should go, Dad looks like he's about to get into a fight with Malfoy."
Not far away, Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy were staring at each other, sparks practically flying between their gazes.
"Then we'll get going first, guys." Ron waved to the others.
Draco also saw the situation over there, and his expression was somewhat awkward. "Everyone, I'll head over there first too. Goodbye."
As soon as he finished speaking, he hurried over to Lucius Malfoy.
Mr. Granger frowned and asked Sirius Vole, who was talking with him, "Is this what you meant by pure-blood families? Do all these wizarding families act so... so condescending?"
Sirius Vole gave a slight nod. "Lucius Malfoy only represents the the Malfoy family. The Vole family, the Potter family where Ian and Harry are, and the Weasleyfamily from just now are all willing to make friends with Muggles."
Mr. Granger relaxed a bit at that. "That's good. I always worry Hermione will get bullied when she goes to school."
"Rest assured, Hogwarts is very safe." Mr. Vole chuckled. "Besides, I think the the Malfoy family's child gets along pretty well with Hermione."
"The children really do get along very well." Mr. Grangersmiled too.
"I say, are you done yet?"
A gruff voice came from behind. Everyone turned back to see Vernon Dursley with a purplish face and a beard around his chin, evidently having rushed over in a hurry. Behind him followed Petunia and Dudley.
"Boy, what are you dawdling for!" Vernon glared at Harryand roared. "Why aren't you coming back with me right now, don't make a fool of yourself here!"
Harry pressed his lips tightly together, raising his head to meet his gaze. "Uncle Vernon, I... I'm not going back with you."
"What did you say?" Vernon's eyes widened even further. "Not going back? What do you mean by that? What on earth has that old trick-playing lunatic taught you?"
"Hello, you must be Harry and Ian's uncle, Mr. Dursley." Mr. Granger stood up and stepped in front of Harry. "I'd like to talk to you about Harry."
Mrs. Granger followed up, "Ian has been in our care since he was seven, and we've always treated him like our own son. Harry is Ian's biological older brother, and we will also..."
"What?!"
Petunia's scream interrupted her. Looking panicked, she rushed in front of Ian, grabbed the boy's shoulders with both hands, and slowly reached out one hand to touch his face.
Tears silently fell from her face.
Red hair, green eyes—he looked almost cut from the exact same mold as Lily. The resemblance was far too striking.
"Aunt Petunia, I'm Ian." Ian was startled by her, but still greeted her honestly.
"Come on, let's go home." Petunia grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the exit of the station. "Vernon, bring Harryand Dudley, we're going back!"
Mr. and Mrs. Granger hurriedly blocked her. "Where are you taking Ian?"
"Ian!" Hermione was also terribly anxious.
"I am his aunt!" Petunia shrieked. "I will be responsible for the child's life! His mother was my own sister!"
"Ian is our child!" Mrs. Granger was anxious too. "You may be his aunt, but you've never taken care of him!"
"Who says I won't?" Petunia immediately retorted. "I'll take him back and raise him properly!"
She gave Vernon a look. Vernon immediately blocked in front of Petunia. "That's right, we'll take him home. We are his family, of course we'll take care of him."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger were so angry they were speechless for a moment.
If they really argued based on family relations, they certainly couldn't outmatch Petunia, his biological aunt.
"Aunt Granger, Aunt Petunia, let's go back and talk about this." Ian glanced at the surrounding gazes directed at them, feeling extremely awkward. "There are too many people here."
"Right, let's talk at home." Vernon also reacted, pulling Dudley as he walked outside. "We'll talk it over slowly back home."
The group returned to Number 4, Privet Drive. Ian and Harry entered the living room with the four adults, Hermione was left in the car by Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and Dudley was shooed back to his room by the Dursleys.
As soon as they stepped into the living room, Mrs. Grangerspoke first. "We won't back down on the matter of Ian and Harry. Ian has been living in our house since he was seven; he has long been our child!"
"He is my nephew, he has my sister's blood in his body!" Petunia glared back without showing any weakness. "And Harry must live with us too. They are the children my sister left behind, and we have a responsibility to look after them!"
"Look after Harry?" Mrs. Granger acted as if she had heard a monstrous joke. "Don't think I don't know that you locked Harry in the cupboard under the stairs ever since he was little. Is that what you call looking after him?"
"So what!" Petunia's face flushed red. "At least we gave him a place to live so he didn't starve to death outside!"
"You..." Mrs. Granger was choked into speechlessness.
"Stop arguing." Ian pressed his temples. "Can you please stop fighting?"
Petunia and Mrs. Granger looked at him simultaneously. "Ian, you choose for yourself. Who do you want to go with?"
Ian: "..."
After a moment of silence, he walked over to the side of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. "Aunt Petunia, I've long regarded Aunt Granger and Uncle Granger as my birth parents."
"Ian, I didn't even know you were alive!" Petunia's emotions suddenly spun out of control. "When they brought Harryover, they said you and Lily and the others had died together. They didn't tell me you were still alive! If you had been sent to me back then, I would have taken good care of you!"
"I know, Aunt Petunia." Ian looked at her earnestly. "But I already have family—family that I found myself. Not just Harry, but Aunt Granger, Uncle Granger, and Hermione, they are all my family."
"I..." Petunia opened her mouth, but couldn't continue any further.
She suddenly realized that this young nephew she thought had long since passed away had grown into an independent-minded teenager, and had people he was willing to trust and lean on.
"No, there is still the blood-protection charm!" Petuniaclutched at it like her final resort. "Only I can protect you. Dumbledore said that as long as you live in a place with Lily's blood and somewhere that can be called home, that dark lord and his minions can't harm you. Only then will you be safe!"
"Aunt, Harry and I are biological brothers by blood anyway; the blood-protection charm won't disappear because of this." Ian lowered his head.
His feelings toward Petunia were already quite complicated to begin with. She hadn't treated Harry well—that was a fact. Out of jealousy toward her sister, and also out of fear of magic, she had always made a habit of ignoring Harry.
But on the other hand, even knowing Harry was in danger, she still insisted on keeping Harry in the home, without driving him out to let him fend for himself and perish.
Petunia's lips moved, but she still had nothing to say.
"Aunt Petunia..." Harry also looked at her. "I want to live with Ian, right there in Manchester."
Petunia looked at the two children standing before her, her eyes slowly turning red. "Have you both really thought this through?"
"We have." Harry and Ian nodded together.
Petunia seemed to lose all her strength at once, covering her face as she began to cry.
Vernon put an arm around her shoulder. He had never seen Petunia look so helpless, and his tone carried a hint of annoyance. "Petunia, if those two little brats want to leave, let them go. I've wanted to throw Harry Potter out for the longest time!"
"No, Vernon." After a long while, Petunia spoke in a hoarse voice. "My sister was a witch, and the whole family was happy for her back then. But I wasn't. I wrote a letter to Dumbledore, begging him to let me go to Hogwarts, and he refused."
"From that day on, perhaps because of jealousy, my feelings toward Lily having magic boiled down to nothing but fear and disgust."
"Before I got married, my relationship with Lily actually hadn't deteriorated to that point. Later, Vernon and I met Lily, along with your father James. He was too arrogant and too condescending, I..." Petunia's voice paused for a moment. "In the end, it ended on bad terms. Lily cried very bitterly, and we hardly kept in touch anymore, but I always knew she loved me very much."
She tried hard to suppress her tears, turning to Harry. "Later Dumbledore brought you over. The Wizarding World killed my sister, and I didn't want to watch you go back to that place to throw your life away."
"Harry, on that night in Godric's Hollow, it wasn't just you and Ian who lost a mother—I lost a sister too. I'm saying this not to make you forgive me for my past harshness toward you." Petunia took a deep breath. "I just want to tell you that I've always missed your mother. She was my sister, my only sister."
Harry stared blankly at Petunia. He had never imagined that such words would come out of Petunia's mouth.
"Ian, you..." Petunia looked again at the nephew who looked so strikingly similar to Lily, her lips trembling a few times before she finally whispered softly, "You look a lot like Lily, you really look just like her."
She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and bowed deeply. "Thank you for taking care of Ian all these years. Please don't mind what happened just now."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger quickly waved their hands. "We will treat both children as our own."
"Good, good." Petunia wiped away her tears and turned around. "Ian, Harry, you should go. Go on."
Vernon, who had always been so tough, looked at the two of them with a complex expression at that moment. Staring with wide eyes, he spoke awkwardly, "Alright, since you've both decided, then... go with your new guardians and live your wizarding lives."
This man who had always despised magic actually uttered words like "wizarding lives".
Mr. Granger gave Harry an affirming look. "Go on."
Harry silently went upstairs to the second floor and returned to his room to pack his luggage. He didn't actually have many things, just two pieces of clothing that still barely fit.
"Are you never coming back from now on?"
Harry turned his head back; Dudley was standing by the door, looking at him with a very complicated expression.
Harry nodded without speaking. He dragged up his trunk and walked out the door.
As he passed by Dudley, Harry softly said, "Goodbye, Dudley."
"Harry!"
Harry stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him.
"I never thought you were a fool, nor did I ever think you were redundant staying here." Dudley bit his lower lip and whispered, "Goodbye, Harry."
When Mr. and Mrs. Granger led Ian and Harry out of the house, Vernon didn't come out to see them off.
"If you get the chance, come back and visit your aunt every holiday."
Before the door closed, Ian heard Vernon say behind him.
"We will." Ian looked back at this middle-aged man who hated Wizards yet remained forever entangled with Wizards, "Goodbye, Uncle Vernon."
"Goodbye."
The door closed, and from inside came Petunia's irrepressible crying.
"Let's go, Harry." Ian looked at Hermione in the car; the girl was watching them with bright, sparkling eyes.
"Let's go home."
Chapter 78 Arriving at Flamel's Home
Ian's first wizarding summer vacation was quite comfortable.
The homework left by Hogwarts was not too much, and the remaining time could be used to study magic.
He spent every day full of enthusiasm, practically too happy to go out.
Harry was just as happy.
First, he could finally live with his younger brother; second, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were truly good to him, completely treating him as a member of the family.
That feeling of being cared for by family was something Harry had never experienced before.
"Aunt Granger, it really cannot fit any more."
Ian looked at Mrs. Granger continuously stuffing snacks into the suitcase, feeling quite a headache, "I can take care of myself, I already have enough to eat."
Mrs. Granger agreed verbally, but her hands did not stop, and she kept muttering, "Eat more. You are so thin, you must not mistreat yourself when you go out."
The daily necessities in the trunk were already stuffed to the brim, and if it were not for the Undetectable Extension Charm cast on this trunk, Ian would have suspected it would have burst open long ago.
Finally putting the last pack of snacks in, Mrs. Grangerstraightened up and earnestly exhorted, "Ian, Aunt wants you to promise me that even when studying magic, you cannot skip eating and sleeping, understand?"
"Understood." Ian nodded helplessly, "I promise to eat on time and sleep on time."
Mr. Granger beside them patted his wife's shoulder, signaling her not to worry anymore.
"Ian, I cannot bear to part with you."
Hermione Granger's eyes were red, and she hugged IanPotter's waist tightly, "You are going to France to study with Nicolas Flamel for a month, and we have never been separated for so long."
Ian raised his hand to hug her, gently smoothing her dark brown long hair, and coaxed her with a smile, "Do not be sad. Once I get more familiar with Nicolas Flamel, the next time I go to France, I will take you with me, how about that?"
"Really?" Hermione Granger raised her head, tears still hanging at the corners of her eyes, "Will you take me?"
"Of course, I promise."
Ian reached out his hand and wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes for her.
Hermione Granger sniffed, still not making a fuss to make him stay.
She knew very well how rare it was to be able to study Alchemy with Nicolas Flamel, and she could not hold Ianback just because she was reluctant to part with him.
"Then you have to write to me." She said.
"Write every day." Ian smiled, "Let Hecate deliver it, and I will tell you everything I encounter every day."
Hecate: "May I ask?"
It was indeed a golden eagle, but a certain Potter clearly did not treat it like a bird.
"Sending letters every day will exhaust Hecate." HermioneGranger shook her head, although she very much wanted to receive news every day, she also felt sorry for Hecate, "One every three days will do, and I will reply too."
Ian agreed very readily: "Alright, one every three days."
As for whether he would write every day in private, only he himself knew.
Harry Potter raised his hand and patted his shoulder: "Ian, take good care of yourself when you go to France. I will write to you too."
"It is fine, you can just mail one a week." Ian waved his hand casually, "Hermione Granger's letters are important, you go to the back of the line."
Harry Potter: "..."
"Although I really do not want to interrupt you two, Ian, we have to get going."
A familiar voice came over, and the three young Wizards all looked towards the door in unison.
"Professor Dumbledore, I am ready."
Ian picked up his suitcase.
"Nicolas Flamel is already waiting for us." Professor Dumbledore smiled and gestured for him to grab his hand.
The next moment, the space around them twisted violently, and Ian once again tasted the feeling of being pulled.
When his body regained a sense of reality, he was already standing in an unfamiliar place.
Without even bothering to look at what the surroundings were like, Ian first grabbed the wall and bent over to dry heave.
Last time with Apparition, he was able to put up a front and not show cowardice. Why was it so uncomfortable this time?
Dumbledore seemed to see through his question and explained, "The distance moved last time was very close. This time we crossed continents, so the reaction will naturally be heavier."
Ian reluctantly raised his hand, made an "OK" gesture, and then continued to hold the wall and dry heave. He felt as if his internal organs were about to be vomited out.
A fair and slender hand was handed in front of his eyes, with a Potion resting in the palm.
"This is a Potion to relieve discomfort, I think you need it right now."
Ian looked up and saw a very old, yet extremely spirited elderly man standing in front of him.
"Mr., Mr. Flamel."
He took the Potion, expressed his thanks first, and then tilted his head back to drink it down.
A cool taste slid from his mouth into his throat, and the discomfort in his body instantly dissipated a lot.
Ian straightened up and thanked him once more: "Thank you, Mr. Flamel."
"Do not be so polite." Nicolas Flamel waved his hand, "Do not call me Mr. in the future, call me Teacher."
Ian immediately changed his tune: "Okay, Teacher."
"Nicolas, since Ian has arrived, I will head back first."
Professor Dumbledore bid farewell to the two of them, "I leave this child to you."
"Rest assured, Albus." Nicolas Flamel patted Ian's shoulder, "I will take good care of him."
Professor Dumbledore nodded, then disappeared on the spot.
"Let us go, Ian." Nicolas Flamel turned and walked into the house, "Let us go eat lunch first. Perenelle knew you were coming and specially cooked. After dinner, I will arrange your accommodation."
Ian followed behind him while looking around at the surroundings.
This was an ordinary suburban cottage, and the furnishings inside were also very simple. Who would have thought that an Alchemy master who had lived for over six hundred years would actually live in such a place?
If he had not known in advance that this was Nicolas Flamel's home, Ian would probably have thought this was some Muggle's house.
"A little disappointed?"
Nicolas Flamel suddenly spoke, interrupting his observation, "Do you think my house is different from what you imagined?"
Ian honestly admitted: "A little bit. I originally thought that all kinds of alchemical products would be displayed here."
"Hahaha, you are not the first person to think so." Nicolas Flamel laughed heartily, "But we are just ordinary people. A house is enough as long as it can keep out the wind and rain, there is no need to make it fancy."
Ian nodded thoughtfully: "I understand, Teacher."
Nicolas Flamel patted him with satisfaction: "You are a child worth teaching."
"Let us eat first, let us see what Perenelle made for us."
The two walked into the dining room, and many dishes were already placed on the table, looking appetizing enough to make one's mouth water.
"Perenelle, Ian has arrived." Nicolas Flamel shouted toward the kitchen.
"Got it, let Ian sit down first, there is one more soup, it will be ready soon..."
As soon as the voice fell, an elderly woman wearing an apron walked out holding a soup bowl.
Ian quickly stood up to greet her: "Mrs. Flamel, hello, I am Ian Potter."
Perenelle put the soup on the table and looked at him with a smile: "Hello, Ian. Just call me Perenelle. Albusmentioned you, saying you are a very talented young Wizard."
"Professor Dumbledore flatters me." Ian felt a bit embarrassed, raising his hand to scratch his head, "I still have to learn a lot from Wizards like you and Teacher Flamel."
"Do not all stand, sit down and eat." Nicolas Flamelbeckoned him to take a seat, "Ian, try Perenelle's cooking. Back then, she conquered my stomach with just a bowl of soup."
Ian smiled and agreed, beginning to taste the dishes on the table.
He picked up a piece of chicken closest to him, and just after putting it in his mouth and chewing a few times, his eyes widened.
The chicken was tender and juicy, with a faint aroma and a flavor he could not quite name, drilling straight into his taste buds.
"How is it?" Perenelle asked expectantly.
"Especially delicious." Ian gave a thumbs up, "I have never eaten chicken this delicious, your culinary skills are amazing."
"Eat more if it is delicious."
Perenelle was praised and laughed nonstop, continuously placing food into Ian's bowl. She truly liked this handsome and pleasant-speaking young Wizard.
After a meal ended, Ian was so stuffed he could hardly walk.
"Perenelle, Ian just finished eating, he needs to digest." Nicolas Flamel patted Ian's shoulder, "Do not keep talking to him. Let us go, I will take you to your room."
Ian said goodbye to Perenelle and followed Nicolas Flamelupstairs.
"Ian, this room is your room."
Nicolas Flamel pushed open a door and let him in, "I do not quite understand what children nowadays like, and I do not know if you will like it here..."
As soon as the door opened, Ian saw a room that was arranged very warmly and comfortably.
The walls were light green with many paintings hanging on them, and the curtains were the same color, making one feel comfortable just looking at them.
A large bed was placed in the center of the room, covered with soft bedding and pillows.
Neatly placed everywhere in the room were quite a few magical items: an alarm clock that could breathe fire like a Dragon, a magic book that could fly, and a quill that could write by itself...
Ian could tell at a glance that this room had been carefully decorated by someone.
"I like it very much, thank you Teacher."
He turned his head to look at Nicolas Flamel, his tone very sincere.
"As long as you like it." Nicolas Flamel nodded with a smile, "If you lack anything in the future, just tell me directly."
"Okay, I will definitely speak up if I need anything." Iansmiled.
"Rest first, and once you have had a good rest, we will start classes."
After saying this, Nicolas Flamel turned and left the room.
Ian nodded, saw his teacher off, closed the door, walked to the bedside, lay down, and slowly closed his eyes.
Both Nicolas Flamel and Perenelle were very easy to get along with. It seemed that his study life here should turn out quite well.
Chapter 79 The First Lesson of Alchemy
Ian didn't know how long he had slept when a sudden knock at the door dragged him out of his slumber.
He propped himself up, sitting, and yawned groggily: "Who is it?"
"Ian, it's me." Nicolas Flamel's voice came from outside the door, "How is your rest? If you've recovered, let's go downstairs for class."
Ian raised his hand to rub his eyes, his brain clearing up a bit along with it. Right, he wasn't in his own room right now, but in France, inside Nicolas Flamel's home.
"I've rested well, Teacher." Ian quickly got out of bed, walked to the door in a few steps, and opened it, "Sorry to keep you waiting so long."
"It's fine, let's go." Nicolas Flamel smiled and waved his hand, leading Ian downstairs.
The living room was still the original living room, but its appearance had completely changed.
The cozy domestic layout from just moments ago was gone, replaced by a small magic classroom. The walls were plastered with various magic theoretical diagrams, the desks were piled high with magic books, and there were piece after piece of Alchemy products that looked quite extraordinary.
Ian stood at the top of the stairs, his eyes wide open.
Isn't this a bit too exaggerated? Even the Room of Requirement might not have such a fast response speed. One second it was a living room, and the next it turned directly into a professional classroom—was the charm of Alchemy actually reflected in interior decoration?
"Don't just stand there daydreaming, come over and sit." Nicolas Flamel beckoned to him.
Ian obediently walked over to the table and sat down, then raised his head, waiting for the teacher to start the lecture.
"I heard that your grades at Hogwarts have always been good, and your foundation in magic theory is also very solid." Nicolas Flamel looked at him, his tone gradually turning serious, "But Alchemy isn't enough just by memorizing theories. To truly master it, you must practice with your own hands, try repeatedly, and dare to innovate."
Ian nodded.
He understood this point. Alchemy was inherently a magicthat heavily valued practice; relying solely on knowledge on paper, it was certainly impossible to learn.
Nicolas Flamel continued to ask: "Then what do you think Alchemy is? Tell me your thoughts."
Ian frowned. His exposure to this subject wasn't much, and the Alchemy products he had truly seen, when all was counted, were only the Philosopher's Stone and the necklace hanging around his neck.
He thought for a moment before answering: "In my view, Alchemy is the study of the essence of matter, and also a method of changing the form of matter with the help of magic. Alchemists, through research and experimentation, turn one substance into another, and even create entirely new substances that have never existed before."
Speaking of this, Ian added another sentence: "To put it simply, it's letting various metals complete their evolution."
After listening, a satisfied smile appeared on Nicolas Flamel's face: "Well said. Alchemy is indeed related to exploring the essence of matter."
But the next second, his tone sank: "Yet it isn't just about material changes, nor is it purely for turning metals into gold. What alchemists truly pursue is pharmaceutics; and the ultimate goal that pharmaceutics points to is longevity."
"Longevity... Philosopher's Stone..." Ian softly repeated these two words, falling into thought.
"That's right." Nicolas Flamel nodded in admission, "I made the Philosopher's Stone precisely to pursue longevity. This is both the end point that alchemists want to reach and the most attractive part of this subject."
Ian seemed to understand a bit, yet also seemed to have only touched the crack of the door to a new world. He nodded slowly, and the outline of Alchemy in his mind was no longer as thin as before.
Nicolas Flamel suddenly chuckled: "Alchemy and Muggles' chemistry are actually very similar, aren't they?"
Ian looked over with some surprise: "Teacher, you even know about chemistry?"
"Of course." Nicolas Flamel replied with a smile, "Chemistry and Alchemy can correspond to each other in many places. It's just that chemistry cares more about the properties of matter and the laws they follow when changing; whereas Alchemy focuses more on the transformation of matter, and even creation."
He paused for a moment and added: "Alchemy also contains a large number of magic elements and mysterious powers, and these things are not something chemistry can explain."
Ian nodded again.
Only at this moment did he realize that his previous understanding of Alchemy was indeed too one-sided. It wasn't just turning a certain metal into another metal, but a whole set of knowledge concerning matter, change, and creation.
"I have a book here that should suit you very well." As Nicolas Flamel spoke, he reached out and picked up a thick, heavy ancient book from the table, "The reason I was able to embark on the path of an alchemist is inseparable from it—*The Book of Abraham the Jew*."
The book was surprisingly large; the cover did not use ordinary paper, and felt like soft tree bark. The outer layer was also wrapped in thick brass, with finely crafted decorations along the edges.
Ian reached out to take it, and the weight immediately pressed down. His wrist sank, and he almost failed to hold the book steady.
After opening it, Ian found that the pages were divided into groups of seven, with only twenty-one pages in the entire book.
On the first seven pages, a staff was drawn, its shaft entwined with two snakes, one of which was swallowing the other into its mouth.
On the fourteenth page, which was the beginning of the second group of seven pages, the pattern was a cross. Only, the one nailed to the cross was not Jesus, but a snake.
The image on the twenty-first page was a barren desert. Several streams of clear spring water gushed out from the ground, and many snakes crawled out from the springs.
Ian lowered his head to read the text on the first page: "Abraham the Jew, Prince, Priest... Astrological Master, Sage of Wisdom, dedicated to the Jewish nation dispersed in Gaul."
Beside those strange words in the book, Nicolas Flamel's annotations were left behind. The gaps were also re-translated into French, so reading it wasn't completely clueless.
"Further back, there are some very harshly worded incantations." Nicolas Flamel clearly remembered the contents of the book very well; even though he was over six hundred years old, he hadn't missed many details, "Among them, a word will constantly appear, which is 'Maranatha'. The general meaning of those incantations is that, except for the priest and the person responsible for copying, anyone who reads this book will suffer a terrible curse."
He pointed to the blank spaces on the pages: "As for these places, what is drawn are the operating methods of metal evolution, and the containers that need to be used when carrying out the operations."
Ian leaned in to take a look, and sure enough, in those blank positions, he found patches of strange symbols, patterns, and some textual explanations that he couldn't temporarily understand.
Fortunately, Nicolas Flamel had already made annotations for him.
"Have you figured anything out?" Nicolas Flamel asked with a smile.
Ian stared at the first picture, pondering and saying: "Teacher, could a snake swallowing another snake be representing the fusion of matter?"
Nicolas Flamel's eyes lit up instantly: "Not bad, continue."
After receiving encouragement, Ian spoke more smoothly: "In the second picture, the snake is fixed on the cross, which should symbolize the decomposition and corruption of matter. It may also represent the sacrifice that must be made in the Alchemy process, and the transformation resulting from it."
The smile on Nicolas Flamel's face became even more obvious.
Ian looked at the last picture again: "As for the snake appearing from the spring water, what it represents is the birth of a new substance, and also means that the Alchemyhas been completed."
"Right! Exactly like that!" Nicolas Flamel excitedly slapped the table, "I really didn't misjudge you, you have a great talent for learning Alchemy, Ian."
Ian was praised to the point of feeling a bit embarrassed, raising his hand to touch his nose: "I just guessed by following the pictures, and I don't know if my understanding is correct or not."
"Being able to figure these out in such a short time is already very rare." Nicolas Flamel praised him without stinginess.
As he spoke, he turned to the fourth and fifth pages: "Don't rush, there's more behind."
Only then did Ian notice that, besides the previous three pictures, four more pictures were drawn on the fourth and fifth pages.
Two people were standing in the first picture of the fourth page. One of them wore a hat, holding a caduceus in his hand, and was striking a combat stance.
Relying on his fairly rich knowledge, Ian quickly recognized the opponent: "This is Hermes in Greek mythology, and also Mercury in Roman mythology."
His opponent was a winged old man. The old man hovered in mid-air, with an hourglass above his head, holding a scythe in his hands, and was hacking towards Hermes' feet.
Nicolas Flamel explained for him first: "That old man is Saturn, representing lead; the Mercury standing on the ground represents quicksilver. The wings on his head represent volatility, which is using lead to handle the volatility of quicksilver."
After finishing, he pointed to the second picture beside it: "Take a look at this one again, what thoughts do you have?"
That was a colored picture. At the top of a high mountain bloomed a strange and beautiful flower, its stem was blue, the flower was composed of white and red, but the leaves were golden. Below the picture, a griffin and a giant dragon were building a nest on the hillside.
Ian looked at the multicolored flower and slowly said: "The flower on the top of the mountain has several colors, which should represent the use of different substances. As for that single golden leaf, it represents the substance formed in the end."
Nicolas Flamel nodded, then turned the book to the fifth page, gesturing for him to continue reading downward.
At this moment, this little Wizard had brought him more and more surprises. Such comprehension was exactly what the apprentice he had always wanted to find should possess.
The first picture on the fifth page was a garden. In the middle of the garden grew a bizarre oak tree, the inside of its trunk was unexpectedly hollow, and out of the hollow grew a rose tree full of blooming roses.
Under the tree there was also a spring, spraying out not clear water, but white liquid. The white spring water flowed all the way into the distance, and beside it squatted a group of people blind in both eyes. They continuously reached out to grope around, yet could see nothing, nor could they touch anything.
Ian stared at that painting, and interpreting it was already much smoother than just now: "The garden symbolizes the laboratory, and the hollow tree represents the flask. Those blind people allude to fake alchemists, or people still searching for 'raw materials'. In fact, the true 'raw materials' are right beside them, only they haven't discovered it, and it will slip away from beside them unconsciously."
As he looked through the patterns one by one, Iangradually grasped the meanings behind those obscure images.
"Very well said, Ian." Nicolas Flamel's appreciation didn't have the slightest bit of concealment, "Then, what can you make out from the final picture?"
Chapter 80: The Price of the Elixir of Life
In the second picture on the fifth page, a king is holding a knife high, driving his soldiers to slaughter a group of infants.
The mothers were all kneeling ahead, pleading desperately.
On one side of the image, there were things like wooden barrels and cauldrons. The infants' blood was caught in the containers, while the sun and moon were immersed in that sea of blood.
Ian stared at it for a long time, then shook his head: "Teacher, I don't understand this picture."
"It's normal that you can't tell," Nicolas Flamel said slowly. "What it's trying to express is convoluted to begin with. If you are well-read in the Bible, you should be able to recognize that this is King Herod's Massacre of the Innocents."
He pointed at the bloodstains in the painting: "The blood of the holy infants symbolizes nitric acid, and the sun and moon refer to gold and silver respectively. Gold and silver cannot fuse on their own; you must rely on nitric acid to obtain the ultimate Philosopher's Stone."
"The Philosopher's Stone?" Ian's eyes instantly lit up.
"Yes, the Philosopher's Stone." A trace of yearning appeared on Nicolas Flamel's face, "The most important raw material for refining the Elixir of Life. It's just that nowadays, it can no longer be made."
"Why, Teacher?" Ian asked persistently, even though he already knew the answer.
Nicolas Flamel's expression sank: "To make the Elixir of Life, it requires the support of a massive amount of vitality. This kind of Potion defies nature and was never meant to be allowed to exist."
"Vitality?" Ian feigned surprise, his gaze falling upon Nicolas Flamel, "Then, Teacher, you…"
Nicolas Flamel already understood the unsaid words. He gently stroked the spine of the book with his fingertip and smiled: "Ian, to decipher this book, I spent a full twenty-one years."
"In those years of deciphering it, I met a Jewish researcher living in Lyon, Master Kenches. It was he who recognized Abraham in the book. Abraham was one of the earliest scholars of Kabbalah."
"On the second page of the manuscript, Abraham exhorted his kinsmen to stay away from evil, especially not to indulge in idols. He wanted his people to wait for the arrival of the Messiah with piety and patience. The Messiah would eventually defeat the secular kings of the world, descend with the glory of the Heavenly Kingdom, and protect His people forever."
"In the third page, he said again that he would teach those enslaved kinsmen how to create wealth so that they could bear the heavy taxes imposed by the Roman emperors."
Nicolas Flamel chuckled softly: "Turning stones into gold is not the most powerful aspect of the Philosopher's Stone. I knew early on that touching such an ancient and mysterious thing could likely bring destruction, and the price paid would not be small."
"Yet I still did it. Even though Perenelle kept persuading me, I still followed the words in the book, endured those prices, and ultimately succeeded."
"January 17, 1382, Monday."
His voice seemed to be carried far away by memory all of a sudden.
"Near noon, I turned half a pound of mercury into pure silver, and Perenelle was watching right beside me. I personally verified the texture and invited other authorities to appraise it. The results proved that the silver was even purer than the white silver produced by natural silver mines."
"On April 25 of the same year, at five o'clock in the evening, in that same room. I refined the red Philosopher's Stone, and then used it to produce a kind of gold. It surpassed ordinary gold; its color was better, it felt softer to the touch, and its ductility was also stronger."
Nicolas Flamel looked towards Ian: "Do you know what I was thinking at that moment?"
Ian shook his head: "I don't know, Teacher."
"I thought, the red Philosopher's Stone has been refined by me. I have grasped the throat of fate, and I will become an immortal. From that day on, all alchemists will remember the name Nicolas Flamel."
Speaking up to this point, the fanaticism that had once been on his face slowly faded.
"But I didn't attain eternal life, Ian. That was merely longevity."
"The Philosopher's Stone did indeed let me live for over six hundred years." Fatigue replaced his previous vigor, "Drinking the Elixir of Life can prevent death, but it must be taken constantly. The older a person gets, the weaker their body becomes instead."
"You still remember the vitality I mentioned just now, right?"
Under his gaze, Ian nodded.
"In the fourteenth century, the plague ravaged Europe. The Black Death took away more than twenty-five million lives, accounting for about one-third of Europe's population." Nicolas Flamel lowered his eyes, "And to refine the Elixir of Life, one has to fill it with living human vitality. In other words, I snatched away the last few days of those people's lives."
Ian's pupils shrank abruptly, as if he were truly seeing Nicolas Flamel clearly for the first time.
"Very unexpected, isn't it?" Nicolas Flamel smiled bitterly, "Yet this is the deepest secret of the Elixir of Life."
He asked again: "Now you should understand why it can never be refined again, right?"
Ian did not answer immediately, just nodding silently. After a while, he spoke: "I understand, Teacher. But you still have the last Philosopher's Stone, why don't you use it to continue refining the Elixir of Life and let yourself live on?"
"Because I have been wondering, is living this long really what I want?" Nicolas Flamel shook his head bitterly, "Watching close people leave one by one, watching the world undergo drastic changes, is such longevity really right?"
"Over six hundred years, Ian." He looked at Ian, "Over six hundred years, I have lived long enough. And…"
Nicolas Flamel raised his hand and pressed it against his chest.
"Both Perenelle and I are tired."
Ian looked at his slightly hunchbacked spine, suddenly realizing that this Alchemy master famous throughout Europe was, after all, just an old man who had lived for over six hundred years.
Even though the Philosopher's Stone had always been helping them, time had long since worn down the bodies of him and Perenelle into old age.
"Ian, I am handing this book over to you." Nicolas Flamelsolemnly handed out the book in his hand, "I hope you can inherit my mantle and pass it on."
Ian took a deep breath, received the book with both hands, and said with a solemn attitude: "I will do it, Teacher."
"There is one more thing." Nicolas Flamel's expression suddenly turned serious, "Even if you can truly refine the Philosopher's Stone in the future, you must never use it to make the Elixir of Life. That is not a domain humans should touch."
Ian looked at his expression and earnestly agreed: "I understand, Teacher."
Nicolas Flamel patted his shoulder with gratification: "You must remember, the Elixir of Life itself is a lie. The true meaning of life does not depend on how long it is, but on how you spend it."
This sentence was firmly remembered by Ian. He lowered his head to look at the book in his hands, feeling only that it was heavy.
It was not just a book, but a legacy.