That same night, Dumbledore sealed the thick notebook with a gentle charm and handed it to Fawkes.
"To France," he said softly.
"To an old friend."
Fawkes chirped once, flames flaring—and vanished.
The Flamels' Cottage – France
A burst of golden fire appeared in the hearth of a quiet, ancient cottage.
Fawkes emerged gracefully, landing on a wooden table cluttered with alchemical instruments.
Nicolas Flamel looked up from his work.
"…Ah?"
Fawkes gently dropped the notebook and a letter onto the table, chirped proudly, and disappeared again in a flash of flame.
Nicolas picked up the book.
He frowned.
Then his eyes widened.
Nicolas Flamel Reads
Page one.
His brows rose slightly.
Page ten.
He leaned forward.
Page thirty.
"…Oh?"
Page fifty.
Nicolas slowly removed his glasses.
By page one hundred—
He started laughing.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
But with genuine delight.
"Hohohoho…" Nicolas chuckled, eyes shining.
"This child…"
He flipped another page.
"These observations are not copied."
"These doubts are not taught."
"These improvements…"
He let out a long breath.
"…are his own."
For the first time in decades, Nicolas felt it.
That familiar excitement.
The feeling of meeting someone who could walk the same path.
"…He may surpass me," Nicolas admitted softly, smiling.
And instead of fear—
He felt joy.
Perenelle Arrives
At that moment, the door opened.
Perenelle Flamel entered, carrying a small basket.
She paused when she saw her husband laughing like a child.
"…Nicolas?" she asked gently.
"What has you so happy?"
Nicolas looked up, still smiling.
"A student," he said simply.
"A first-year."
Perenelle froze.
"…A what?"
Nicolas slid the notebook toward her.
"Read."
Perenelle Reads Lucien's Notes
At first, she was skeptical.
Then curious.
Then surprised.
By the time she reached the middle—
"…This is a child?" she whispered.
Nicolas nodded.
"A prodigy," he replied.
"No—something rarer. A thinker."
Perenelle smiled softly.
"How old is he?"
"Eleven."
She covered her mouth.
The Second Letter
Perenelle noticed another letter beneath the notebook and picked it up.
Lucien's biography.
She read slowly.
Twin brother of Harry Potter.
Heir to the Peverell family.
Adopted heir of the Lionhardt house.
Her eyes widened.
"…The Peverell house?" she murmured.
"The Deathly Hallows Peverells?"
Nicolas nodded grimly.
"And the Lionhardt family."
Perenelle exhaled sharply.
"Edmund Lionhardt…?"
"The same," Nicolas replied.
"The man who built an empire from nothing. A legend in the Muggle world."
They exchanged a look.
This wasn't just talent.
This was destiny colliding from multiple worlds.
Lucien's Description
Perenelle continued reading.
Crimson hair.
Amethyst eyes.
Calm, polite, observant.
She paused.
Then smiled warmly.
"…He sounds adorable."
Nicolas laughed again.
"I knew you'd say that."
Perenelle closed the letter, hands clasped.
"I want to meet him," she said immediately.
"And I will spoil him."
Nicolas chuckled knowingly.
"I suspected as much."
He grew serious for a moment.
"I am thinking," he admitted,
"of offering to teach him."
Perenelle's eyes softened.
"A disciple?"
Nicolas nodded.
"If he wishes it."
She smiled brightly.
"Then we must invite him properly."
Somewhere in Hogwarts, Lucien slept peacefully—
unaware that two legends of alchemy had just decided:
This child is worth everything.