Nicolas Flamel circled Hydrus Lestrange as if he'd just discovered a new continent.
"Child," he said, rubbing his gnarled, root-like hands together with undisguised excitement, "have you ever considered studying alchemy?"
Hydrus felt a headache coming on.
"Mr. Flamel," she said carefully, "I'll be making up five years' worth of coursework this term. I'm afraid I don't have the time to take on alchemy as well."
"That's quite all right," Flamel waved it off cheerfully. "I live a very long time. I can wait."
Not teaching alchemy to someone like her would be nothing short of blasphemy against her once-in-a-century talent.
He turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, remember this—make sure you remind me to take this little girl on as my apprentice!"
A man over six hundred years old asking a man barely over a hundred to remind him of something would have been unthinkable in the Muggle world.
Here, it felt perfectly natural.
"Nick, my memory isn't what it used to be either," Dumbledore said with a twinkle. "I nearly forgot Mr. Astre was still asleep. If I didn't wake him, he might snooze right through to next week."
"Ah—do we have another unfamiliar wizard joining Audrey's pre-term tutoring?" Rick asked cheerfully. "And who might this gentleman be?"
"I'm Nicolas Flamel."
"Nicolas Flamel?!"
Rick's jaw dropped.
Staring at the elderly figure before him, he swallowed hard. "You mean the Nicolas Flamel from the fourteenth century—the one who successfully transmuted mercury into gold?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Astre, your breadth of knowledge is impressive."
Rick scratched his head sheepishly. "I used to read a lot of occult books as a kid. I admired Mr. Flamel's achievements greatly."
Flamel waved a hand, dispelling the awkwardness. "If there wasn't another alchemist named Nicolas Flamel in the fourteenth century, then yes—I'm the one you're thinking of."
"That's incredible!" Rick nearly bounced in place. "Doesn't that mean you're over six hundred years old?"
"Indeed," Flamel said thoughtfully. "Six hundred sixty-one… or is it six hundred sixty-two this year?"
Rick turned to Dumbledore, awestruck. "Headmaster, I really have to rethink my opinion of Hogwarts' faculty. Even Nicolas Flamel teaches there!"
Dumbledore merely smiled.
From the kitchen came Audrey's voice. "Enough chatting—sit down already! The food's ready!"
She emerged as dishes floated out behind her one by one.
Wearing Audrey's face while using house-elf household magic—something that would have been impossible before.
But after forming her second magical circuit, she'd discovered she could wield two magical constitutions at once.
It was absurdly cool.
Flamel stayed on.
He volunteered to teach Audrey Ancient Runes. As the world's foremost alchemist, his mastery of ancient magical script was unmatched.
The house had gained another resident, yet Audrey couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
It wasn't until the third day after she awoke that she realized what it was—when Golden Tiger appeared in her room.
"My goodness, Golden Tiger," she scooped the cat up and hugged it tight, "where have you been? I missed you so much."
She lied smoothly, face perfectly straight.
Even if cats didn't understand human speech, there was no way she'd admit she'd completely forgotten about him.
"Wait—why is one of your eyes gray now?"
The tabby's once-matching yellow eyes were now mismatched: one gray, one gold.
"Well… it actually looks kind of nice," Audrey said casually, setting him down. "But no more running away, all right?"
Golden Tiger let out a soft meow, padded out of the room, and slipped neatly into Grindelwald's bedroom.
Time flew.
Audrey's progress was just as rapid.
Grindelwald taught Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, and Arithmancy.
Flamel handled Ancient Runes and Magical History.
Dumbledore visited every few days under the excuse of checking Audrey's studies—and stayed for meals. Lately, though, his visits had grown less frequent. Hogwarts business was clearly piling up.
Then came September first.
The first day of term.
Audrey woke early and glanced at the clock—six thirty.
The past two months had been brutal. Being drilled relentlessly by two old men whose combined age neared eight hundred was nothing short of torture.
Especially Grindelwald. His lessons in Charms and Transfiguration went far beyond any school syllabus.
Not that it was hard for her—but the sheer intensity of it all was exhausting.
Now that term had finally begun, school—once something she'd dreaded—felt almost like a holiday.
Twelve O.W.L. subjects.
She only needed to finish Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy.
Potions and Herbology? She'd mastered those long ago while pretending to be a Squib at Lestrange Manor.
And Muggle Studies?
Please.
Hands on hips, Audrey snorted inwardly. She was a superstar in the Muggle world—what was there left to study?
At this rate, passing all twelve O.W.L.s would be effortless.
Her Hogwarts years were shaping up to be smooth, easy… blissfully lazy.
King's Cross Station.
A Bentley Turbo R pulled up outside, drawing countless curious stares.
The driver leapt out, opened the rear door, and a black-haired girl in sunglasses stepped down. After a brief exchange, she dragged her luggage into the station.
Audrey Astre.
Some people pointed at her uncertainly, whispering, unsure whether they dared believe it.
"Excuse me," one fan finally ventured, "are you Miss Audrey Astre?"
She knew she couldn't admit it. If she did, the station would turn into a signing event—and she'd miss the Hogwarts Express.
"No," she said, removing her sunglasses. "You're mistaken."
Same face. Same features.
But her eyes had become sharply slanted, inverted triangles.
The fan left disappointed. The onlookers dispersed.
Audrey smiled faintly.
Transfiguration really was wonderful.
She put her sunglasses back on and cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm. Outside-school magic was only permitted today—once term started, it was strictly forbidden.
Between platforms nine and ten, she immediately spotted the entrance.
The magical echo there was impossible for her to ignore.
When she focused, the pillar revealed itself as a rippling portal.
Without hesitation, Audrey wheeled her luggage forward.
To others, she walked into a wall.
To her, she stepped through a gateway.
A brief dizziness—
And Platform Nine and Three-Quarters unfolded before her.
The red-and-black Hogwarts Express waited quietly.
Parents issued endless warnings. Children nodded impatiently.
Some things never changed.
"Percy, look after Ron! It's his first year!"
"I know, Mum!"
"Fred and George Weasley! Don't you dare bully Ron!"
"Yes, Mum!"
"We'd never bully Ron—he's our favorite little brother!"
Audrey glanced at the sea of red hair.
The Weasleys. The odd ones out among the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
She removed her sunglasses and headed for the train.
"Oh! That's Audrey Astre!"
Molly Weasley recognized her instantly. The Daily Prophet had devoted pages to the Muggle-world superstar—though without an interview or photos. The reporter had simply used old pictures of Audrey Hepburn.
Given that Hydrus Lestrange had modeled her appearance after Audrey Hepburn, it worked well enough.
Wizarding fans recognized her regardless.
"Oh, it really is you!" Molly beamed, nearly bouncing in place, restraining herself from hugging her. "I adore your music!"
The Weasley children scrambled off the train.
Percy. Fred. George. Ron.
A full spread of red hair.
With Molly around, Audrey's songs played nonstop at home. Of course they knew her.
"It really is Audrey Astre!"
"Merlin's beard!"
"She's actually going to Hogwarts!"
"Miss Astre, could I get an autograph?"
They were so enthusiastic Audrey didn't know how to cope.
Did this family have no sense of personal boundaries?
Still… it was that sincerity that made them so easy to befriend.
"Well—" Audrey said, looking overwhelmed, like a startled rabbit, "could we maybe talk on the train? It looks like it's about to leave…"