Chapter 65: Albus Dumbledore visiting Nicholas Flamel

**Albus Dumbledore's POV**

Albus was finishing the last preparations for the transfer to Flamel at his house. Obeying the waves of his wand, the potions authored by Dumbledore drew something like a Rune Circle. About thirty minutes later, Albus finished, stood in the center of the monstrous construction, and supplied energy. The drawing began to burn out instantly, and he felt himself being pulled somewhere like a phoenix. Albus was in place. The Eighth Polygon was something like an underground bunker, which was hidden in an area like Fidelius for safety. Inside, it was light and sterile, like an operating room. If Severus's office was a typical home of a potion master, then here reigned a frightening emptiness. Flamel... The teacher always surprised him, and Albus could not understand who he was. Sometimes it seemed that Nicholas could kill or cure with the same indifference, but Albus knew that Nicholas was a good man. He greeted Albus as if he were a Hogwarts graduate, a guy of about seventeen, rather short and stocky, in a regular black robe.

"Come on, take off the protection. I've already prepared everything for the operation," Flamel ordered him, watching his finger with his eyes. "But how can I ask something that only Albus Dumbledore knows?" he clarified. "It's pointless. If you deceived all the defense systems and killed the previous Albus, taking his Elder Wand, it won't help me anymore."

Albus wasn't sure of that. The paradox was that each of those present considered their opponent to be immeasurably more powerful than themselves. Flamel was an ordinary strong pureblood wizard, with a reserve of three average wizards. But, as Snape says in the introductory lesson in the Potions course, the amount of magic is not critical for a potion maker, unless, of course, he is trying to brew potions for the whole world. Nicholas seemed weak only next to Dumbledore. Flamel had two unique features—a Gift in potion-making; he could brew anything from anything, but this paled in comparison to his second feature, for which Albus would easily give half of his strength—Flamel knew how to notice what others do not pay attention to. In the strict sense, despite the fact that Flamel once fought, he cannot be called a combat wizard. But in the field of potions, transfiguration, magical theory, and to a lesser extent rituals and numerology, he had no equal. That is why Albus considered Flamel stronger than himself. Albus Dumbledore had the strength of twenty average wizards, was an outstanding expert in transfiguration, and concurrently the Master of Hogwarts. Even without the Elder Wand, he defeated Grindelwald. That is why Flamel considered Albus stronger than himself.

He did not have to go anywhere: as soon as Albus removed the protection, he was in place—the corridor was self-propelled. Albus, obeying Flamel's gesture, laid himself down on the operating table.

"The Phoenix's Tears, as I understand, did not help?" Flamel asked him, applying bandages soaked in some probably unique potion to his finger with the help of levitated tweezers.

"I have not tried it," Albus admitted. "But they can't help—it's not a physical wound, not an energy wound. It's much worse, and nothing helped."

Flamel gave Albus an IV drip; only instead of saline solution, there were his potions. And then he began to pour his mixtures on his left hand, and especially on Albus's finger, and the more remedies failed, the more Flamel got carried away.

"Drink," Flamel told him, handing him some golden potion. "Soon you will lose consciousness; you will lie and remember the past. I will try to do at least something. But the wound is fatal, unless you have another Deathly Hallow under your cloak."

"Not anymore," Albus answered.

"Are you continuing to commit acts of senseless vandalism, like in your youth?" Flamel asked him, without looking up from his work. "I would like to hear this story…"

"I can give you memories…"

"Then you will. Memories are not the same," Flamel replied, not looking up from his work. "I've been missing communication for a long time. Perenelle and I have already discussed absolutely everything, and this is at least one fresh face. You've been gone for a long time; the last time you came by was after the death of your Head of Magical Law Enforcement…"

"Business, Nicholas. But I wanted you to do everything faster. After a victory, you can rest, but not now…"

"You young people are always in a hurry… And I don't like hack work… If you've already agreed to my intervention and are ready to fall out of reality for a while, let me rejuvenate you?" Flamel suggested.

"No need, Nicholas. I'm happy with my appearance. I just can't understand—don't you get tired of looking like a boy?"

"My wife probably won't like it if I look my age. But seriously—it's better to be a boy on the outside than on the inside. I simply want to hear the story of how my best student came to me like a beaten dog, with signs of destruction of the protection from within. Just don't tell me that you lost a wish to Voldemort in a game of cards."

"It's a long story," Albus began.

"I love long stories. Otherwise, I don't have time to redraw the borders of countries in the atlas. They appear and change as quickly as leaves in the forest…"

Albus watched as Nicholas gave him five more IVs and finally selected a satisfactory composition for his hand—one that did not evaporate immediately.

"I'm surprised that with your attitude to time, you reacted so quickly," Albus admitted.

"I heard the magic word in your note—'dying.' I was busy and could not come, so I used a Time-Turner."

In 1910, Nicholas told Albus that biological immortality and a Time-Turner were an unimaginable combination, like dividing by zero. And if at first he liked studying calligraphy or myths of the peoples of Africa for thirty years, and then studying by correspondence at Muggle universities through artificial remote-controlled golems, now he was really tired of it. Nicholas called the Time-Turner a "demonic invention" and vowed to use it constantly. But sometimes he had to…

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**Memories of Albus. 1945.**

"No, and no again. I have no desire to fight Grindelwald," Flamel repeated for the hundredth time.

"But people are dying," Albus began.

"People always die. Several every second, simply from old age," Flamel said. "And as for people… I don't recognize them. They have changed, not only culturally, but physically. The average height has grown taller, their facial expressions are different. And if I wanted to intervene, I should have intervened much earlier, when they wanted to distribute the land to the peasants. Naturally, not on the side of the peasants. For you, this class division is savagery, but for me, it is a way of survival. How to ensure loyalty in the army, because everyone will defect? Take into the army those who own real estate with you—small feudal lords. And take those who have not been noticed for treason for centuries. People have probably become so stupid that they don't try to betray and kill each other, which, paradoxically, contributes to their progress and survival."

"You are a wizard of the highest level; you can defeat him…"

"I doubt it. Grindelwald is much stronger than me; he has the Elder Wand, and to even enter his territory…"

"So I'm not suggesting you go there alone! We'll go together! I've already prepared enough! My golems will occupy his guards and distract him; I'll delay him for a while, and you will neutralize him…" Albus began to outline the plan.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Albus? No. I am not interested in human wars. I have enormous knowledge, but a stray Avada will kill me just like an ordinary Muggle. Moreover, if you do not understand the obvious, I will tell you plainly: pacifism and a long life are not a combination for a warrior. My method of solving problems is different: you wait fifty years, and everything resolves itself."

"But you stopped the Black Death!"

"That's completely different. I simply cleaned up after my students. And I personally have not killed any of my students."

"Nicholas! But France is occupied! Don't you want to help?"

"Someone else would have answered you that France is almost liberated. Or that Gellert is not the first Dark Lord and not the first owner of the Elder Wand. And not the last. But I will answer differently: I was born before patriotism was invented. In my time, France was very conditional: there was Burgundy, Provence, Normandy, and they happily fought with each other. Moreover, back then, people served the feudal lord, and the annexation of a state through dynastic marriage was commonplace. You can't even imagine how wild a state-territory, and not a state-person, seems to me. I owed something to some people, but they all died, and I paid them back. I owe nothing to the people of today; they are free to live and die as they wish. And Grindelwald… Madmen always do mad things; it's as true as the sun rising in the east. And as for the problems of France and the occupation… If you convince me, I will be forced to attack England to avenge the occupation in the Hundred Years' War."

"Nicholas! When was that!"

"I personally participated in this war. I lost friends. And for me, it is much more real than the present."

"I understand everything," answered Albus. "There is no point in delaying; I tried in vain all this time to convince you to come with me. I will go alone."

"You will die!" said Flamel.

But Albus was already heading for the exit.

"Wait! Wait, I will wrap something for you to take with me. Something that I usually keep for myself. If you happen to survive, come to me immediately after the victory; I will treat you for intoxication."

"Thank you," said Albus, taking the potions.

---

**POV of Nicolas Flamel. Modern times.**

Flamel thought he understood Dark Magic. Regular Dark Magic affects the energy of an object, destroying it. This destruction causes the death of the body or part of it. If high-level Dark Magic was used, the wound cannot be healed. You can make a wound inflicted by Dark Magic a source of problems—it will then suck out strength or life. A high-quality amputation in this case should help. But this is clearly something else... And it is easier to break than to build! Nicholas remembered one of the most elegant spells—Avada Kedavra. It does not damage the body or energy; it simply separates the target's soul from the body, which leads to death. But this spell cannot be cast on an object. There are curses similar to Avada Kedavra, more powerful but much slower and stationary. This is clearly the work of a modified "Kiss of Death." Upon contact with Albus, the curse worked. It broke the connection between the soul and the body, but Albus managed to limit the area of effect with his finger for a short time. The curse will gradually spread throughout the body, and he is unable to restore the connection between the soul and the body. If the body was damaged—nonsense. If the energy was damaged—you could try to cure it or guarantee that the curse will not spread further. The easiest way is to build a new, undamaged body from scratch and move the soul there, although there will be problems with witchcraft in the new body, at least at first. But to fix the connection between the soul and the body for a person who fell under a delayed Avada... No, it will not work. Moving to a new body will not work either: the curse will not calm down until it pushes the soul out of the world of the living, and from there it will not pull anyone out. Here, games with clinical death will not work. Strictly speaking, there is a solution: a Horcrux. This will either change the soul beyond recognition, or after the curse is triggered, the Horcrux will serve as a beacon back, and the curse is one-time. But Nicholas really didn't like two things: Horcruxes and amateurish Philosopher's Stone imitations that harvested life energy from victims. So he had to work without that.

Place Albus in a different timeline? It might work if the wound was as complex as possible, but physical. But that's not the case. Probably, you'll just have to try to limit the area of damage as much as possible and slow down the spread of the curse throughout the body. This will give Albus some time, but for how long? After half a day, Albus's condition stabilized. Nicholas allowed himself, without being distracted from his work, to remember his life a little. Flamel was born into an ordinary pure-blood family in 1330 in the outskirts of Pontoise. Almost immediately, he discovered an unprecedented inclination for potions. He didn't like the world he lived in—a world where a magician's strength does not depend on his deeds but is simply determined from the beginning. No, there are many ways to become stronger. But either you go crazy, or the survival rate is twenty percent, and the effect is temporary, or you lose your human form. The easiest way to live forever and grow in strength is to become a vampire. But vampires have very one-sided magic—they can't even apparate… He didn't like the world. Changing it was too difficult, if possible at all. And he decided to escape to another world. If demonologists summon animals from another world, why not send himself to another, more interesting one? But jumping into nowhere, into a world without matter but with aggressive inhabitants, is stupid. You need to find a suitable one. And it's too much—summon a demon, send it to another world, question it, check its authenticity—it can take millennia. So he found a way to make his dream come true: to live forever. Horcruxes didn't suit him—why live like a madman? And he decided to find his own way. Even then, he was very different from pure-blood wizards—he didn't feel contempt for Muggles, which is why he didn't work on mass sacrifices, although it seemed like the easiest solution. He began to live a double life—the life of a Muggle and the life of a wizard at the same time. To do this, he moved to Paris and pretended to be a public scribe, to the general laughter of the wizarding world. In reality, away from his family and the greedy glances of other wizards, he began to craft the Philosopher's Stone. More precisely, a masterpiece of blood magic, his own blood... Muggle society was the perfect cover—Flamel aged due to regular use of the Time-Turner and looked like a Muggle, and told everyone else that it was a disguise. Then he understood the meaning of the proverb: "Know too much, you will soon grow old." And since then, he does not like Time-Turners... Alchemy and potion-making—that is the key to the Philosopher's Stone. And he worked, but did not forget about other things. For example, marrying a pureblood woman. Twice widowed, Perenelle. They had children, his Muggle business cover expanded, he even hired Muggle workers. Those were the great times of the Muggle world—the first steps of book printing. Nicholas was looking for handwritten books supposedly for duplication, although most of them were actually duplicated, but the best ones ended up with him. In 1357, there was a breakthrough—Nicholas got his hands on a very interesting book, known to Muggles as the "Book of Abraham the Judean." Then he spent a long time communicating with the Moors and Jews expelled from Spain, among whom there were many magicians. It was then that Nicholas realized that trying to repeat the achievements of other magicians who either created or allegedly created the Philosopher's Stone was not his path. And he decided to make his own stone from scratch. No, of course, there were other events—the birth of children, Nicholas's participation in the wars of magicians, recruitment of students, conflict with students—but this was not the main thing... In 1382, having lived one hundred and eighty biological years, he achieved success. The Philosopher's Stone the size of a fist was ready. Nicholas gained unprecedented wealth, eternal life. But only Nicholas. Then he began to work on a modified stone, which was designed to save his children and his wife from death. It was difficult, very difficult, but the Time-Turner and biological immortality are a terrible combination. Soon he saved his wife from death. He could not save his children; he could only prolong their lives a little. The older he became, the fewer common interests he had with people. It was time to finish the preparatory stage and begin work on finding a suitable other world. Fortunately, a drop of the elixir of life could be used as a liter of one's own blood to power spells. The only thing was that he began to accumulate too many metals. And he began to get rid of excess gold. Flamel became the owner of about thirty houses and plots of land in a few months. But there was too much gold. He decided to take up patronage, established several funds, invested money in the development of art, financed the construction of chapels and hospitals. He even bought two Magic Sources in France and gave them to his children. However, since then the Magic Sources have ceased to be sold for money. In 1402, he staged the death of Perenelle, his wife. He himself feigned deep grief and loss of strength in order to follow his wife in 1418, having previously bought a burial place in the church of Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie. Since he officially had no children in the Muggle world, he bequeathed almost all of his property to this church. No, sometimes Nicholas screwed up. For example, he was seen with his wife by wizards in 1761 at a performance at the Paris Opera. And he relaxed so much that he did not even change his appearance! Until 1789, the hospital held an annual procession in Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie to pray for the soul of Nicolas Flamel. However, if he is not mistaken, several streets in Paris are still named after the famous philanthropist. Wizards were looking for him. Sometimes Nicholas shared gold or a "budget version of the elixir of life" through golems. But usually, he just hid. Two centuries after his death, Flamel's grave was opened, but no body was found in it. But Nicholas remembered exactly—he put a very high-quality fake there. So it was opened before that.

Nicholas stabilized Dumbledore's condition. He looked him over again and conducted an inspection. Let's start with the main thing—switch all communication systems to ourselves. The patient needs rest. We could just switch it off, but Albus will probably want to know what happened in England while he was unconscious. The Elder Wand. We need to talk to Albus more seriously—it will lead him to no good.

Potions... Shame. The best student never learned to brew anything decent; that's what happens when you spread your strength in too many directions. Since Albus had no protection, Nicholas easily determined the type of potions by the magical disturbances. Not interesting, not interesting, but what is this? Poison against the Sea Serpent, brewed on the basis of the Sea Serpent's blood. No, you won't kill it like that—at most you'll anger it. You need to go and brew a normal poison against the Sea Serpent. A deadly one. Poison against the Basilisk... The Basilisk is a specific creature. Nicholas admitted that the King of Serpents was bred specifically to obtain high-quality poison, which means that it would be very difficult to kill it with poison. Nicholas was not sure—it was unlikely that even he would be able to brew something that was guaranteed to kill the basilisk. But it was worth a try! Sighing tiredly, without stopping working on Albus, Flamel took up the Time-Turner.

**End of Nicolas Flamel's POV.**

"How did it go?" asked Dumbledore, who had come to. The hand looked like new; the finger was not black but quite normal and obeyed perfectly. And it did not cause discomfort. Almost. "Disgusting," answered Flamel. "You have about fifty-eight months left. I managed to hide all external traces; you do not look mortally wounded, and there will be almost no pain. You can get up." "So much? You have outdone yourself; thank you. And how long was I unconscious?" "Three days," they answered him, "although I would have arranged for you to undergo restorative therapy for two months. And I would not be happy - of course, you have fifty-eight biological months. In recent years, you have demonstrated a Time-Turner usage coefficient of 4.2; that is, for an outside observer, you will last less than fourteen months." "Albus, I want to have a serious and thorough talk with you." "Of course, this is the least I can do in gratitude," answered Albus. "First, tell me in detail what happened and how. Put your memories on top of your Occlumency protection; I'll take a look." Then followed Albus's story. A long one. Nicholas sat on a chair and looked deeply thoughtful. "I know, it seems madness! But I am sure—the old Voldemort is no more!" summed up Albus. "Here I have to agree with you," admitted Flamel. "Why? This is the weakest point in my conclusions." "The old Tom Riddle did not even try to find me. But since the end of last year, Voldemort and his servants have been actively searching for me." "And how are they searching?" clarified Albus. "Original. Almost like you. I love opera—I was seen at the opera a couple of times in the 18th century. Voldemort searches for famous Muggle opera performers and puts contact details for him into their heads. The idea is simple: I will attend the opera, perform Legilimency on the performers' minds, and learn that Voldemort is looking for me. I have already received two packets of information this way." "And?" Albus clarified. "Not so bad. No demands for gold or the elixir of eternal life. An offer to cooperate. An offer to take him on as an apprentice. Questions about how much I am attached to you and whether I will be offended if Albus Dumbledore dies. I also became the owner of an extremely perverted recipe for a blood-forming potion—it is comparable to surgically removing your tonsils through your anus. He even offered to share the secret—a potion that 'cures' werewolves." "And what did you tell him?" Albus asked. "Like everyone else: nothing. I follow events, but I do not participate in them. I have long ceased to be interested in political games. And teaching Voldemort... It's dangerous... not to mention that if he has a Horcrux, my miracle potion won't kill him, how can I protect myself from such a student? - This is the right decision, Nicholas, - Albus answered. - It's noticeable from the outside: your Lord's behavior has changed. Games with werewolves, a different wand, interest in me, and much more. I find it easier to believe that this is a different person than to look for reasons why he has changed so much. But this brings us to the main question. Horcruxes. Are you sure he has Horcruxes? Moreover, are you sure he was able to create more than one Horcrux? I do not know of a way to make more than one Horcrux; you would have to be a genius in Dark Magic and ritual. And most importantly, you saw two Horcruxes in the Gaunt hut. If I were Voldemort, I would hide someone else's Horcruxes in a trap, and I would always carry mine with me, tucked into my glasses. - I don't quite understand, Nicholas. - If someone solved the problem of the number of Horcruxes, that is, is able to make more than one, then this someone will be able to make a Horcrux out of someone else... - Is that possible? - Albus clarified. - I think so, although I have never been interested in this. But this is just thinking out loud. Until you carefully study one of the Horcruxes, it will be impossible to understand anything. The conclusion about another Lord is quite logical. The idea that he has Horcruxes is debatable. Voldemort seems to have returned to his youth. If he were obsessed with murder, he would kill for pleasure. But that is not the case! There are no mass repressions against his own people - there are targeted ones against strangers. There is at least some hypocritical screen. Moreover, he brought werewolves to cover his fighters with them! Werewolves that wizards do not remember! Moreover, as I was told in secret, he has business with Gringotts. The main thing in his actions is not to destroy everyone. And his servants have quite logical movements: in England over the past year, purebloods have ordered a lot of things to furnish their homes. In other words, there is a feeling that his madness has at least slightly receded. How this fits in with your idea of a Horcrux or Horcruxes - I do not know. With Horcruxes, things cannot get better. Flamel continued. - If the previous Lord was killed by a descendant or a student, he doesn't have Horcruxes. If the Lord has Horcruxes, he couldn't have changed. But he did. Albus, I don't know how to explain what I see. Perhaps you're right, and he changed beyond recognition when he created another Horcrux, but then nothing is clear about the Horcruxes he had already made. Be extremely careful. And it's best not to use Avada Kedavra on Voldemort — this spell is tied to the matching of the target's soul and the caster's soul; it can work unpredictably if the current Lord has more than one soul. That is, capable of making more than one, then this someone will be quite capable of making a Horcrux out of someone else... - Is that even possible? - Albus clarified. - I think so, although I have never been interested in this. But that's just thinking out loud. Until you carefully study one of the Horcruxes, you will not understand anything. The conclusion about another Lord is quite logical. The idea that he has Horcruxes is debatable. Voldemort seemed to have returned to his youth. If he were obsessed with murder, he would kill for pleasure. But this is not the case! There are no mass repressions against his own - there are targeted ones against strangers. There is at least some kind of hypocritical screen. Moreover, he brought werewolves to cover his fighters with them! Werewolves that wizards do not remember! Moreover, as I was told in secret, he has business with Gringotts. The main thing in his actions is not to destroy everyone. And his servants are making logical movements: in England, over the past year, purebloods have ordered a lot of things to furnish their homes. In other words, there is a feeling that his madness has at least slightly receded. How this fits in with your idea of a Horcrux or Horcruxes - I do not know. With Horcruxes, it cannot get better. Flamel continued. - If the previous Lord was killed by a descendant or an apprentice, he does not have Horcruxes. If the Lord has Horcruxes, then he could not have changed. But he has changed. Albus, I do not know how to explain what I see. Perhaps you are right, and he changed beyond recognition when creating another Horcrux, but then nothing is clear about the Horcruxes that he had already managed to make. Be extremely careful. And it is better not to use Avada Kedavra on Voldemort - this spell is tied to the comparison of the target's soul and the soul of the caster; it can work unpredictably if the current Lord has more than one soul. — If the previous Lord was killed by a descendant or a student, he doesn't have Horcruxes. If the Lord has Horcruxes, he couldn't have changed. But he did. Albus, I don't know how to explain what I see. Perhaps you're right, and he changed beyond recognition when he created another Horcrux, but then nothing is clear about the Horcruxes he had already made. Be extremely careful. And it's best not to use Avada Kedavra on Voldemort — this spell is tied to the matching of the target's soul and the caster's soul; it can work unpredictably if the current Lord has more than one soul. Advertising — More than one soul? Is that possible? — Albus clarified. — The only way I know is to make a Horcrux out of a human. Then they will have their own soul and a piece—a fragment of a Horcrux. — But that's not all. Before that, your actions were at least somewhat justified. But what did you do in the Gaunt hut? Based on rumors and speculation, and not on calculations and facts, you went looking for Horcruxes of God knows who. Why did you do that? Moreover, why did you put on this ring? After all, enough time has passed for you since Ariana's death! — If you could bring your children back, would you? — asked Albus. — Albus… Time can be turned back, but we are no longer there. There are things that should not be done. But there is something about this ring that confuses me. — I did not have time to examine the ring and the stone, — Albus admitted. — The Deathly Hallows have existed for a long time, even before I was born. I think that someone must have wanted to destroy them during this time. But they did not destroy them. Why? A human soul plus part of the source of magic... That's a lot! A Horcrux is just part of a soul, and it's hard to destroy. - What are you getting at, Nicholas? - I think anything that could destroy a Horcrux would only scratch the Deathly Hallows. But that ring gave up too easily. I find that odd. - A fake? How can you know that? - I can't. It's just a guess. - Maybe the power of the altered Morphine was too great? - Possibly. Anything is possible. But I think there's something wrong with the stone. It gave up too easily. And the Ariana you remember is too perfect. Come to think of it, I hope I'm wrong. - I also really don't like the Elder Wand. I can easily tolerate things stronger than me. But I don't like things smarter than me. Wand makers think wands are alive. They're wrong. A wand has no more intelligence than a goldfish. But they are right about one thing - the wizard learns from the wand, and the wand from the wizard. Nicholas took his wand out of his pocket and began to turn it over in his hands. It looked like its owner - brand new. - This is my wand and it is the same age as me. It has been acting strangely for the last eight hundred years, and the strangeness is increasing. As if it is trying to help me, correcting minor flaws. But at least it is loyal and has had no other masters. The Elder Wand... It may want to change you as it sees fit, and it does not care about you. It is best to get rid of it. Or at least do not give orders that allow for double interpretation. - I will die undefeated, and its power will die with me, - said Albus. - Ambitious... But I want to say something else that is only tangentially related to the current situation. Flamel turned away and spoke, as if remembering with difficulty. "I am too kind for the Middle Ages and too evil for the modern era. In my time, no one even thought of asking the question: who is better: Muggles or wizards? The answer seemed obvious. Even the majority of Muggle-borns did not consider Muggles to be people. After all, a wizard can do everything a Muggle can do without magic, and a Muggle can't do anything even with his technology. Contact a person remotely? A through mirror. Flight? A broom. Now… Muggles can repeat a lot of what was previously attributed to magic with their technology. Don't think, Albus, I don't hate, but this is so unexpected… Muggles have overtaken wizards in the rate of progress! If I had said this in my youth, I would have been locked up as mentally ill. It's as if a huge oak tree withered, and a weed grew into a cultivated plant the size of a mountain. I don't know how to explain it. Probably, wizards just spend too much energy on keeping their secrets, constantly feuding with each other, and if it weren't for this, we would have long ago… - I really liked the last sentence. You have succeeded in keeping secrets more than others. - I am a special case. All the more so because I tried to share my knowledge. "It didn't work out. Or it worked out too well…" Nicholas began. "But that's not the point. Put yourself in my shoes. According to the current calendar, the 14th or 15th century. Let's say the future belongs to the Muggles. Which Muggles exactly?" Flamel asked. "Which of the great civilizations of that time has a better future? Which one is predicted to rule the world? The answer is simple: any, but not European. In the East, you see the great Chinese civilization, which has existed for over a thousand years. The long list of inventions made by the Chinese is unrivaled: paper, the printing press, gunpowder, the compass, etc. - the list goes on and on. Chinese scientists are the best on the planet. They have been extracting oil from wells since the 12th century. The cities are immeasurably larger and richer than European ones. The country is united, and there is peace on the continent. To the south you see the Ottoman Empire, which almost conquered all of Europe. This great Muslim civilization invented algebra, made many advances in optics and physics, and gave the stars their modern names. The arts and sciences flourish in the empire. Its great armies meet virtually no resistance. Istanbul is one of the world's great centers of scientific knowledge. And on the other side are the pathetic European states, tormented by religious fundamentalism, the Inquisition, and the witch trials. Western Europe has been in decline for a thousand years, since the fall of the Roman Empire. It is so backward that it constantly borrows technology from others. It is a veritable black hole of the Middle Ages. The knowledge of the Roman Empire has been largely lost, replaced by a stifling religious dogma. Opposition or dissent is often met with torture or worse. Moreover, the European city-states are constantly at war with each other. But what happened? Shortly after 1500, both the Chinese and Ottoman empires entered a 500-year period of technological stagnation, while Europe began an unprecedented advancement in science and technology. As early as 1405, the Yongle Emperor of China assembled a massive naval armada, the largest in human history. With it, he wanted to explore the world (three tiny Columbus vessels would have fit comfortably on the deck of one of the colossal ships of the armada). Seven expeditions were organized, each larger than the last. The Chinese fleet sailed along the coast of Southeast Asia, reached Africa, Madagascar, and perhaps went further. The sailors brought home a rich booty - things, exotic foods, and animals from all over the world. The Ming dynasty menagerie exhibits wonderful ancient paintings of African giraffes. But the rulers of China were not satisfied. Is that all? Where are the great armies that could stand up to the Chinese? Is exotic food and strange animals all that the world has to offer? Losing interest, subsequent rulers of China allowed the great fleet to decline; eventually, it ceased to exist. China gradually became isolated from the rest of the world; it began to stagnate, while the world, on the contrary, surged forward. Something similar was happening in the Ottoman Empire. Having conquered most of the known world, the Ottomans turned their attention inward, sinking into religious fundamentalism and centuries of stagnation. A Muggle once said, "The great Islamic civilization declined when Muslim scholars began to interpret the search for truth, as prescribed by the Koran, in a purely religious sense; all other knowledge became un-Islamic to them. As a result, Muslims abandoned science, mathematics, medicine, and other so-called secular disciplines. Instead, they devoted their time to arguing about the teachings of Islam and its interpretations, about Islamic jurisprudence and Islamic practice, which eventually led to the disintegration of the ummah and the formation of numerous sects, cults, and schools." But in Europe, the great upsurge was beginning. Trade had brought with it fresh revolutionary ideas, which were spread by Gutenberg's printing press. The power of the church, after a thousand years of unconditional supremacy, began to weaken. Universities gradually moved from interpreting obscure passages of the Bible to applied sciences: Newton's physics, Dalton's chemistry, and the works of many other scientists. Continuous wars between almost equally strong European powers, none of which ever managed to seize power over the entire continent, led to monarchs constantly fighting each other, financing scientific research and engineering developments in hopes of someday satisfying their territorial ambitions. Science was then not just an intellectual exercise but a means to create new types of weapons and new ways to make money. Gradually, the rise of European science and technology led to the weakening of the power of China and the Ottoman Empire. The Muslim civilization, which had flourished for centuries as an intermediary position and trade broker between East and West, was first shaken when European sailors established trade routes to the New World and to the same East—especially around Africa, bypassing the Middle East. And China suddenly found itself under the guns of European gunboats, which, ironically, were making full use of two epochal Chinese inventions: gunpowder and the compass.

And now I'll ask you, Albus. What happened?

"The answer is obvious," said Albus. "Science and technology happened. Science and technology are the engines of prosperity. Of course, everyone is free to ignore them—but at their own risk. The world will not stand still just because you read a religious text. If you fail to master the latest achievements of science and technology, your competitors will."

"Probably overcoming the limits on the number of Horcruxes, cleansing the source of the ereggu, creating an overdementor... I see the analogy. Albus, you showed me the memories, didn't you? I have learned to do things you cannot imagine! I must admit that Voldemort is incredibly powerful when it comes to Dark Magic. Only fools think that Dark Magic is needed for murder. One can kill with a club. The true purpose of Dark Magic is to change. But there are many more ways to be dead than to be alive, and many more ways to be mad than to be sane.

As for history... I have a different answer: Torquemada got carried away. He came up with a brilliant idea, comparable to the invention of tribute—to use Muggles in the wizard wars. Give them a couple of enchanted trinkets, cast a "blessing," and you have a warrior on the level of an intelligent golem. And self-replenishing, too! The Inquisition killed many wizards. But it was Muggles who killed other wizards under the direction of wizards. Torquemada went further—he used European Muggles to fight the wizards of America. And he won, almost completely destroying the wizard civilization there. And this is exactly why the Statute was invented—to protect the world from wars, because wizards are superior to Muggles one on one, a hundred on a hundred, but all wizards, as history has shown, are worth less than all Muggles. That is why Gellert Grindelwald was so disliked.

"And now let's move on to the present day. I have seen your thoughts. The war in England is not just about the Dark Lord. He is a caricature of man, an illustration of the eternal forces within each of us, a picture of the eternal forces that seek to dominate humanity, driven by an instinctive desire to make people their slaves and playthings. Voldemort is just a pawn. He must be destroyed, but not at the cost of losing a greater war. I sense that the world can change. For the better or for the worse, I do not know. But about Voldemort… There can be no place for pity here."

"I have no pity for him," Albus said sharply.

"No, I am warning you against self-pity," Flamel replied calmly. "Directed at yourself or at others, your pity will ultimately turn against you and become a weapon in the hands of your enemy. You are the Master of the Elder Wand, the most powerful wizard I have ever known; if you give in to the madness of Dark Magic, then no one can stop you, and humanity will return to the 'sad times.' However, there is dirty work to be done, so do not let loss touch you or sorrow consume you. You were born for glory, but we must learn to bear loss with fortitude."

Albus was silent. He saw that Flamel was genuinely worried and nodded, although he disagreed with him on many points. "Whatever you seek, it is not worth giving your life for," Flamel said. "And it is certainly not worth your soul."

"Is that not a concern?" Albus asked, smiling slightly.

"You are becoming sentimental, Nicholas."

"Not at all," Flamel replied angrily. "I have few familiar faces as it is. Losing another one would not do me any good. Be careful with Snape. It may be just a coincidence, but a man like him could very well sell himself to Voldemort for the family fountain or something else. I also have a number of propositions for you. You have done enough for the world; stay with me. Perhaps I can save you if you give me enough time. Or come with me to a new world—there is a little different magic there; maybe there will be a way to save you? Or at least take a year off, think about it, rest, do things with a fresh mind... Or maybe you intend to leave this world as soon as you do what you think is necessary? I have everything ready; my wife and I have already decided everything, but I am ready to take you with me."

"No, my place is here. I am not going to accompany you to another world. And it is time for me to leave."

"I will wait; maybe you will change your mind."

"You can expect anything from a man who first goes through a field of traps, then an impassable labyrinth, then calms fifty undead, sends Grim home, then brushes off the curses of the highest Dark Magic, defeats a half-mage, half-Dementor with a Horcrux immersed in the source of magic, and then voluntarily puts on a knowingly cursed Horcrux ring on his hand to send greetings to the sister he killed in the afterlife, and then destroys what theoretically can heal him from the mortal wound he received. Have a good day and a glorious fight, Albus," Flamel said. "I'll find something else to do here for a few years. I've long wanted to try to brew a Polyjuice Potion using only liquid oxygen and nitrogen from the air, but there were always more important things to do. If you suddenly lose, try to die as Albus, and not another soulless scrap. If you meet the inventor of the Time-Turner after his death, kick him hard and tell him it's from me."

"And good luck to you, Nicholas," Albus replied. "But you shouldn't have mentioned Ariana."

"And if you're going, I have something to confess," Nicholas said, while Albus, standing in front of the exit, cast a ward on himself.

"Yes, I noticed everything. The new potions…"

"No. I just slightly interfered with your communication system and blocked it…"

"I don't approve of it, but your house, your rules."

"You've lost your title as the most powerful wizard of our time. Rumor has it that you lost a duel to Voldemort and are licking your wounds. While you were unconscious, word came…"

"Something with Hogwarts? With the Ministry?"

"No. Not even in England… Anyway, Grindelwald is dead."

"How could this happen? He is well guarded! Grindelwald is a separate story. Less than twenty people never went against him. It was a miracle that Albus won."

Grindelwald survived. The wizards thought about how to kill Gellert more effectively, but they couldn't find a brutal enough way. The Kiss of Death wasn't enough for his minions, and Grindelwald personally… When Albus suggested not killing Grindelwald, they simply wanted to carefully take him aside. And then Albus showed what the Elder Wand could do, and he himself hadn't fully recovered from Flamel's potions yet… The authoritative wizards were moved and decided that a solitary cell for one wizard in a prison without dementors was an excellent solution. No, Nurmengard was reliable. Gellert had many spells cast on him, which made it almost impossible to extract anything from his memory. Moreover, a long-term diet of special potions made it theoretically impossible to raise him after death and get any answers. To top it all off, the prisoner cannot leave the cell – he will die. The prisoner was also a magical invalid: when he lost the Elder Wand, he continued to fight Albus with wandless magic, and even sacrificed his own magical channels and core.

"The guards?" Albus clarified. If the guards were intact, then Voldemort had simply made a deal over his head... Grindelwald was guarded by wizards from the countries that had won the "Second World War." No, Albus had no doubt - as soon as he died, Grindelwald would be gladly given an accident while the guards went out for a smoke, but not now!

"Dead. All ninety-six wizards," Flamel clarified.

"Nurmengard?" Albus asked. Flamel created an illusion of Nurmengard with wandless magic and then dispelled it.

"Destroyed. And either I don't understand anything, or this is a nuclear explosion from the inside… — Flamel was speaking, but Albus had already reached for the Time-Turner.

"No, don't."

"I'm not going to change anything! I'll just split up to gather information."

"Let me remind you: my houses are enchanted, including with the Chronosphere charm. The Time-Turner can be used. But only inside or only outside."

"It slipped my mind," Albus hid the Time-Turner under his cloak.

"Thank you for everything; I have to go."

"Perenelle wanted to give you some pies!"

"They're delicious, but I have to hurry! Especially since you might get jealous and poison me! But I'll definitely come back; I simply have to return to the place where they're jealous of me for a woman!"

A moment later, Albus left, and Nicholas Flamel sighed wearily. Soon his wife came up to him.

"Gone?" she asked.

"Yes. Such an impatient young man. And so stubborn, like a monument to humanity..."

"We won't see him again," said Perenelle.

"Your visions again?"

"Yes. And they always come true. We can leave."

"I'll wait a little bit. What if you were wrong this time?"