Chapter 253. News.
France. Paris.
Although the wizards had previously agreed to meet again in four days to discuss their findings, Nicholas himself was unable to finish analyzing the magic circle because it had proven far more complex than expected. So Flamel requested an additional two days.
Severus didn't mind continuing his research on the Philosopher's Stone. By the sixth day, though he had made little progress, he had at least confirmed a few things and eliminated one hypothesis about where the stone drew its magic, namely, that it drew power from another dimension, like a human core. That possibility could now be safely ruled out.
The second of those hypotheses was self-explanatory; the first concerned certain magical waves emitted by such sources, causing their magic to differ from ordinary magic. However, no such phenomenon was observed in the Philosopher's Stone.
For this reason, that option could be dismissed, but Severus was in no hurry to rule it out completely. First, he needed to reach the rank of Archimagus, and only then, once his sensory perception had reached an entirely new level, could he examine the stone again.
Besides studying the stone, Severus spent the rest of his time improving certain plants and, with Nelly, transplanting them into one of the gardens. As for materials, he had already transmuted enough of what he needed on the first day to last him quite a while.
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And so, on the sixth day, he sat before Flamel, who was gazing thoughtfully, first at the slightly darkened Philosopher's Stone, then at the innocently smiling Severus.
"Even I needed six whole years to make it fade even slightly, yet you managed it in just six days... remarkable..." There was no trace of anger or indignation in Nicholas's voice, only mild surprise.
"Forgive me, I got a bit carried away," Severus said, lowering his head in embarrassment. "But regarding life force, you needn't worry."
"Hm?"
"My home gets attacked regularly, at least once every two months by groups of at least ten. I rarely leave them alive, since they could reveal a great deal about my fortress. But I'm prepared to hand over a couple dozen of these attackers."
Any light wizard hearing this would immediately condemn Severus for such words and actions, but Flamel pondered the proposal. Recently, attacks on them had become less frequent, and the artifact had long since lost its former radiance and luster.
Of course, Nicholas was not a cruel or bloodthirsty man. He never harmed ordinary people; on the contrary, throughout his life, even after losing his former strength, he had continued to help peaceful citizens. The fact that he had saved Paris during Grindelwald's rampage was itself worth mentioning.
Though the proposal was quite good, Flamel gently shook his head.
"Thank you for the offer, but there's no need. This amount of life force will last us more than a hundred years, and with the remaining elixirs, we could stretch it to two hundred..."
"So you don't plan to leave this world this century?" Severus asked, intrigued, folding his hands before him.
"After analyzing your work, I realized I still have something to strive for." Under Severus's teasing gaze, Flamel, a man already over six hundred years old, felt a bit embarrassed. "So my wife and I decided to postpone our departure. We can embark on that new journey at any time, but while the old life hasn't ended yet and the most interesting part is just beginning, I can't simply leave."
"I'm glad to hear my work helped you make the right decision."
"Whether it's right or not, we'll find out in the future. For now, let's discuss your magic circle."
"Of course. I've already made all the corrections we talked about two days ago, reducing magic consumption by almost five percent."
"Good. Then we can proceed directly to the main part." Around Flamel, more than twenty transparent screens appeared at once, highlighting specific parts of the magic circle.
"So many mistakes…?" Severus couldn't contain his amazement. Flamel nodded kindly and pointed to one of them.
"The magic circle itself has no errors in its formulas or construction. But it's immediately apparent that its author lacks experience. It's too perfect, as if the person who created it had learned only from books, with very little practical experience."
"All these elements could easily be reduced by half, with others added, making the magic circle more stable and safer, and reducing the magic cost." He smiled slightly, as if recalling something. "This reminds me of when my wife and I traveled across Africa, studying the local magical world. Out of curiosity, I decided to teach our runes to a young girl. Since they had their own runic system for casting, she made roughly the same mistakes as you…"
"An amazing coincidence."
"Indeed, amazing…" Seeing no reaction beyond a faint smile, Flamel didn't press further. Prying into others' secrets, especially those concerning knowledge and spells, was poor form in the wizarding world. "Let's get to work."
"Agreed." Severus passed his hand over the table, and a projection of the magic circle appeared. "Let's start with the simplest problems."
"There aren't really any complex issues in your magic circle. We'll certainly finish in a couple of hours… or… no." Flamel shifted his gaze to the door, frowning. A few seconds later, someone knocked.
"Hm? Who is that?" Noticing Flamel's strange reaction, Severus asked with interest. It was the first time he'd seen him this displeased; usually, he behaved quite amiably with everyone.
Instead of answering, Flamel rose and headed for the door. From the second floor, Perenelle began to descend, her gaze so sharp that if looks could kill, nothing would remain of the person behind that door.
Severus became even more intrigued by this dead man walking who had managed to anger a peak-rank Magister, the strongest wizard he had yet encountered in this world.
Finally, when Nicholas opened the door, Severus saw an elderly man with a clean-shaven face and shoulder-length gray hair, wearing a black coat.
His bright brown eyes held a hint of worry as he looked at Flamel with a guilty smile.
Strangely enough, Severus recognized the wizard at the door almost immediately: it was none other than Arthur, the French Minister of Magic himself. He had seen his photograph many times in local newspapers and books he'd read before coming to France.
"Nicholas, forgive me for not being able to visit you sooner."
"It's nothing. I understand." Flamel smiled warmly in response. Even Perenelle, standing to the right of the staircase with a snort, didn't make him flinch.
"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked with evident concern. "I saw traces of the battle outside…"
"You know how strong Perenelle is. She didn't serve as headmistress for several centuries for nothing," Nicholas answered with undisguised pride, glancing toward the staircase. Perenelle gazed coldly at them, sending a chill down Arthur's spine.
"That's good. And by the way…" He looked his friend over in surprise, and a moment later his eyes widened. "Have you grown younger, or am I seeing things?"
"I was able to improve the elixir, but only three doses so far." At the mention of that number, Flamel's eyes flashed with a strange light. "The first had to be tested on a fairy, and my wife and I took the others. I'm working on new ones now."
"Is that so… congratulations, my friend. How about a drink today to celebrate?" Arthur asked with amusement, winking.
"He's busy today, right, dear?" Perenelle stated rather than asked, steel in her voice. Nicholas gave Arthur an awkward smile, a silent *you understand*, with a glance toward his displeased wife.
"That's expected, but fine. I can't stay long anyway: work is piling up. I barely managed to squeeze in a few minutes to visit a friend. I'm glad you're doing well." Arthur spoke in a more serious tone, placing his hand on Flamel's shoulder. "And don't worry: we've already caught the bastard who attacked you. I called for the death penalty, but only got him a life sentence in Asakolta, where he'll live out his days without magic. So you can relax and forget about him."
"Is that so… thank you, Arthur."
"No need, we're friends, and you've helped me a great deal. If anything, I should be thanking you." He shifted his gaze to the third wizard in the room. "So this is Britain's next Merlin, I assume? I've heard a great deal about you. If you ever decide to, the door to France is always open to you!" Arthur winked with his friendliest smile.
"I'll remember that. Thank you."
"Then I won't keep you any longer, or annoy your wife further. Have a good day, and Nicholas, take care of your health. You're a symbol of our country; you simply can't fall ill."
"Another one worried about my health. I'm perfectly fine!"
"Excellent. Once again, have a good day."
"And to you, my friend." With these words, Arthur nodded slightly, turned, and headed toward the group of Aurors already standing near the house. Flamel closed the door.
*I'm surprised they caught Voldy…*
"Apparently you haven't read today's newspaper." Something flew out of the fireplace and landed in front of Severus. On the front page was the defeated Dark Lord himself, his face covered in scrapes and scratches, furiously shouting and trying to break free from the grip of the valiant officers.
"What a turn of events… I can imagine the faces of all the Death Eaters right now…"
"Except that wasn't him." Flamel sat back down across from Severus, who was smiling, whistling, and cutting out Tom's photograph, and continued speaking, turning a blind eye to Severus's antics. All wizards had their quirks, even Flamel himself. "That one looked more human."
"And the fighting style more closely resembled that of a well-trained killer than that of an arrogant mage like Voldemort," Perenelle added.
"It was most likely the minister." After finally cutting out the photograph, Severus took out his wand and duplicated the images. "My teacher always said: if you see a suspicious old man who smiles kindly at you, run. He's definitely not a good person. Dumbledore alone is proof of that."
"Well said, he's quite the scoundrel," Perenelle agreed with a ringing laugh, approaching and patting Severus on the head. "And this old man isn't the best either," she added, pointing at Nicholas.
"Hey!"
"Be on your guard. Before you know it, you'll turn into another Albus, an old pervert chasing after boys." The hovering images of the Dark Lord froze.
"And here I was wondering why he kept calling all the guys 'boys'… how horrifying." Severus shuddered. He'd been raised in a traditional family, in a world where such people were treated as the scourge of humanity.
"Perenelle, don't talk nonsense! He's normal!" Nicholas tried to defend his friend, but his wife's icy gaze silenced him at once.
"Just try approaching him. Who knows what might go through that old pervert's mind when he sees you rejuvenated! From now on, you only speak with him when I'm present!"
"But Perenelle…"
"I've been 'Perenelle' for six hundred years already! Do you understand me?!"
"Y-yes…"
*Henpecked husband,* Severus noted, placing over a hundred envelopes on the table and stuffing each one with a moving photograph of Tom clipped from the newspaper, eagerly anticipating the Death Eaters' reactions to these happy letters. *Must remember to buy some popcorn…*
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