(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 64: The Alchemist

Chapter 64: The Alchemist

14 June 1992, Hogwarts

The headmaster returned her nod and the woman silently walked towards his personal floo and left. Albus sagged the moment he left. Dealing with that woman was exhausting.

“Still, as crafty as ever, aren’t you, Albus?” a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

He had felt the man’s presence the moment he snuck in during the conversation, but he did his best not to react, “Well, I have learnt from the best, Nicholas.”

Albus didn’t really like to admit it, even to himself, but he was always wary of the famed alchemist. Nicholas Flamel might not even come close to rival him in power or strength, but he had mastered his magic to a ridiculous degree. He had learnt it during his apprenticeship with the man how ridiculous the man’s skill in Alchemy on a conceptual level was. Albus would never dream to come close to his skill in the field, even with the light itself guiding him.

The headmaster turned to speak to his former mentor and saw the familiar figure of an elderly frail old man with silver hair. He looked like a soft breeze could topple him over. Oh, Albus knew that his appearance was deceiving. The man could move like a seasoned Auror, and had more energy than a teenager, thanks to the Elixir of life.

“Yes, you have. And what a disappointment you’ve become, Albus. You had so much potential,” the famed alchemist muttered slightly.

“I embraced my destiny, Nicholas. You were only trying to delay the inevitable. What I have done was necessary, you have seen the results of my work. A magical peace on a global scale, the children are growing in the light without the dangers of the traitorous dark. I do not understand why you condemn my actions so much,” Dumbledore returned with a slightly heated tone.

“Then what do you call your spat with the Riddle boy? Is that what your precious peace is? Most of the founding families of Britain have been either reduced to single members, or just wiped out in his war, in your war. Defeating Grindelwald was not the end to all of your worries.”

Albus gritted his teeth. He would admit that Tom Riddle took him by surprise with both his power and his determination. He wasn’t a champion of the Dark; he had even checked on his old friend in Nurmengard in case he perished or somehow passed on his powers to another. You could never be sure with Gellert. But the British civil war came out of nowhere. He didn’t expect it. Without anyone to rival him in power, the political scene was his to do as he pleased, and he did push things for the greater good of the magical world.

He had tried to eradicate the dark in a way that no champion before him had tried, by introducing a progressive faction that would slowly dismantle the rituals and traditions that were so commonly used by the followers of the dark. It had worked. Spells were banned, knowledge censored, and rituals destroyed. And it showed how effective it was. The years between the war with Grindelwald, and Voldemort’s emergence, were the closest thing to a magical utopia ever since Camelot fell.

“Tom Riddle is an aberration, one that sacrificed everything he had for power. I never expected anyone to be prepared to lose so much of themselves and still be relatively functional. He’s barely even human anymore.” The headmaster retorted.

“For all your power, you still do not understand. These excuses show that I have failed you as a teacher. Your little display with the house points shows how little foresight you can have sometimes. It seems like wisdom is something that you still lack even after over a century of life,” the old man answered with a soft and infuriatingly mysterious tone, while shaking his head.

“I had very little choice in the matter. With Voldemort’s inevitable return, it is imperative to prevent his future followers from getting any dangerous knowledge from the restricted section. You know that I wanted to stop the privileges of the cup for years,” Dumbledore explained himself for his mentor.

“Then you could have removed the knowledge from the restricted section. It’s not like you haven’t done it before. So, what is it really?”

“Fine!” the headmaster said, “Some of the members of my faction didn’t like the idea of a fourth Slytherin victory in a row. Many heirs have started Hogwarts, and their parents want a chance to see their children grow and surpass those of the traditional families. I had to be heavy handed because I certainly didn’t expect Gryffindor to end up in last place with such a difference. Minerva was particularly strict when it came to punishing her own house, and Neville Longbottom was very troublesome to handle.”

“Ah, at least that makes sense. You and your politics. You’re losing yourself in them, boy. You have been trying your best to create the world of your dreams that you bound yourself to the wills of other. What happened to your sister was a tragedy and an accident, but do you have to limit yourself so. People are starting to forget why they followed you in the first place. A few decades ago, not a single family would have dared give you such an ultimatum.”

“Simply because I chose not to act like some sort of brute does not mean that my methods are inefficient,” Dumbledore protested.

“And yet, you’re slowly losing, aren’t you?” the famed alchemist said with his usual infuriating tone.

The sad thing was that he was right. Dumbledore had at the prime of his political power, control over half the Wizengamot. And yet with the appearance of the conservative faction, or as they like to call themselves, the neutrals, had split the Wizengamot into three factions. It was slow at first, but members of the progressives and traditionalists started to flock to avoid choosing between Voldemort’s and Dumbledore’s ideologies. This created a risk for his faction to leave at any moment, since they had a place to turn to where they could be accepted and that they would return to. Currently, Albus’ faction made up of exactly one third of the Wizengamot, and he had to constantly try to convince members of the conservatives to vote out any relevant law. It was cumbersome, and it certainly slowed down his momentum immensely.

“I am sorry that you think that I am a disappointment just because I haven’t followed the plans you laid out for me. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed your machinations with Vlad Drakul, who happened to be Gellert’s mentor as well,” Dumbledore heatedly retorted.

“I will admit that creating a peaceful interaction between the Light and Dark Champions has always been a motivation of mine and Drakul. We hoped to break the cycle of hatred, of bringing true peace. It didn’t seem possible with yours and Gellert’s predecessors. They were too volatile, too consumed by the powers. Alas, we still dreamed. The last time a champion of the light and a champion of the dark united, Hogwarts was built, and an age of prosperity followed. The two of you were getting so close until the Ariana incident. You delved into the light, and Gellert embraced the dark. Each one of you hoped to create a mockery of the world you planned together, and it turned into a war between the two of you.”

“You tried to meddle with something that shouldn’t be meddled with. The Light and the Dark are enemies, and you know it. How many champions have you trained over the years? You should know this fact intimately. And how is what I have accomplished a mockery?” the headmaster asked.

“You have destroyed magical society in a way that was never done before, boy,” Flamel retorted and for the first time, he looked angry, “you have turned a race of explorers, of inventors and theorists, and turned them into muggles with magic. To be a mage is to walk with Death and you took that away from them, from us. You rendered the magical population into content simpletons, Albus. The progress in magical innovation has slowed down ever since your victory over Gellert.”

“Enough of these games, Nicholas. You did not come to rehash an argument we had many times. Why are you here?”

“You know exactly why I am here, Albus,” the famed alchemist replied while snorting, “I heard a rumor that you destroyed my stone.”

“It was an accident,” Albus started.

The man burst into laughter, “Oh, my boy, you have so much to learn. You asked me long ago how I made my stone, and I always refused to answer. I might have been magically bound to lend it to you, but I am sure that you failed to understand what it even is, let alone how to use it. So, let me give you a small hint. If what you had said was true, if you truly have destroyed it, then the island of Scotland would have been nothing more than a large crater.”

“What is it?” Albus asked, despite his reservation.

“It is my greatest accomplishment and my greatest failure. After graduating from Beauxbattons, Perenelle was sick. I had never seen anything like it, and I loved her more than life itself. It was a curse that was in her bloodline, that made her life force leak out faster. It was cast using a sacrifice of an innocent soul by a champion of the dark and was strengthened by powering itself from the very life force that was leaked by its victim. In every generation in grew stronger, and it was very old. It was a miracle the line hadn’t died out somehow, but I had to save her. Alas, I was only skilled in alchemy, but nothing really more than that. You know the rules of alchemy, equivalent exchange.”

Albus did not like where the story was going. Nicholas always seemed like a wise old man, a bit demanding, a little forcing and grumpy, but to commit human sacrifices… It was just so out of character.

“I found a way to nullify any other curse by sacrificing guilty souls, but Perenelle’s was cast by a champion of the dark. Nothing seemed to be enough, until I was desperate enough to just let magic decide. I create a plague that would not stop until the price would have been enough. It took millions of lives for the stone to be created but it was nearly not enough, except that a newborn light champion was killed by it as well. It was able to supercharge the ritual and become the tool to immortality that it is today. Of course, the next champion immediately cornered me, and bound me to the light, to track down the light champions and train them until my dying breath. I saved Perenelle but lost my freedom. No one but could use the thing anyway; I have to activate it to work. And destroying the stone would have released the energy trapped within it, and it would have resulted in a spectacular explosion.”

Albus was flabbergasted, “The black plague, that was you?”

“I was young, desperate, foolish, and in love. I never told Perenelle about how I created the stone, but she does know of my servitude of the light. I still think she knows, to be honest. Seers tend to see through people rather easily. Now, Albus, my stone.”

Albus nodded, stood up and waved his wand towards a blank wall. The stones slowly parted into metallic vault. He put his hand on it, and it disappeared as well, leaving a large vault filled with his most treasured artifacts.

He handed over the stone to his former mentor, who grabbed it. The stone started to glow, meaning it was activated, and suddenly, Albus heard the whispers of the light come to life. Nicholas had activated the stone, and they were urging him to take it. It seems that the light believes that the man’s sentence was over.

Quick as a snake, Dumbledore whipped his wand and sent a spell at the distracted alchemist, who was inspecting his artifact. The man gasped in pain and doubled over, “I am sorry that it’s ending like this, Nicholas. I have treasured your tutoring greatly, but alas, the light deems your servitude to be over. I release you from your bound.”

The desperation in the man’s eyes that he expected to see wasn’t there. Instead, he was laughing, “It seems that she was right, after all.”

“Who was right?” Albus asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Perenelle, she said that my penance would be over soon. That is was time for a new adventure…” the man answered while gasping.

“I will need to visit her after this,” Albus murmured to himself.

The dying man snorted, “No, you don’t. Perenelle is dead. She died in her sleep yesterday. Those were the last words she ever said to me.”

Before Albus could even digest what the man said, the alchemist coughed up blood and pressed it on the stone. It glowed and disappeared with a flash of light.

“No!!!” Albus yelled.

“Do you really think I would let you have my stone, boy,” the alchemist answered with a gasp.

“Where is the stone, Flamel?”

The man was giggling, “I don’t know. That’s the best part. It’s lost to me, to you, to everyone. But that’s not what’s important now. You have far bigger things to worry about, boy. Death is coming, and it has eyes on you…”

Those were the last words the immortal alchemist said before life left his eyes, leaving an enraged headmaster to pick up the pieces.