Chapter 248
Dumbledore stood before the wooden door of the house. The air was cold, carrying the scent of old books and melted candles. He placed his hand on the handle, wondering who this unexpected visitor could be.
The moment he opened the door, his eyes fell upon an elegantly dressed young man standing confidently outside. He wore refined, old-fashioned clothing: a white shirt with a black tie, covered by a long brown coat, while a classic black hat completed his mysterious appearance. In his right hand, he carried a white square box, and with his left hand he raised a casual greeting, a playful smile on his face and his eyes closed as though he were simply enjoying the reunion.
"Yo, Headmaster! How have you been?" Albert said cheerfully, as if meeting Dumbledore was nothing more than two old friends crossing paths rather than a mysterious visit from someone who knew far more than he should.
Dumbledore stared at him in surprise. He had never expected such a visit. Slightly narrowing his eyes, he asked cautiously,
"What are you doing here, Albert? And do you know Mr. Nicolas?"
Never had Dumbledore imagined that Albert would travel all the way from Britain to France.
Albert's smile only widened.
"And who doesn't know the great alchemist Nicolas Flamel?" he replied confidently. "Wasn't he the man who created the Philosopher's Stone, the stone capable of turning wood into gold and silver, and granting its owner immortality?"
His words carried admiration and certainty, as though he were speaking of something he knew personally rather than a legend whispered among wizards.
Turning toward the house, Dumbledore called out,
"Nicolas, do you know this boy?"
The old alchemist's voice echoed from inside, calm yet surprised.
"What boy? Do you mean the boy standing in front of me, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore immediately turned back toward the doorway—
But Albert was gone.
He had vanished as though he had never been there.
No footsteps. No trace. Not even the echo of his smile remained.
Slowly closing the door, Dumbledore made his way back into the room where Nicolas sat. Upon entering, he stopped in mild astonishment.
There, seated calmly on another chair opposite Nicolas, was Albert himself, as though he had been there from the beginning. Leaning casually against the chair with one hand, he observed the elderly alchemist with curiosity and amusement.
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment before saying with a nearly serious tone, though touched with amusement,
"It seems you haven't lost your magical touch, Albert."
Albert chuckled and placed the white box on the table.
"Nothing beats a little fun, does it?"
Nicolas remained silent. He had no idea who this young man was, but judging from the brief exchange between him and Dumbledore, he realized that the visitor did not appear to be a bad person.
Studying Albert carefully, Nicolas finally turned to Dumbledore and asked,
"Who is this boy, Dumbledore?"
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore sat down and folded his hands together as he gathered his thoughts.
"He is one of my students at Hogwarts—Albert. He also lost one of his parents on that dreadful night years ago, at Voldemort's hands."
Silence settled over the room.
The hidden meaning behind Dumbledore's words required no further explanation. The moment Nicolas heard them, he immediately understood.
This was not merely another student. He was someone carrying a tragic story tied to the shadows of the past.
Nicolas looked at Albert with sympathy and understanding, but before he could speak, Albert himself broke the silence with a gentle smile.
"Well, Professor Nicolas, would you accept this small gift from me?"
He extended the white square box he had been carrying since his arrival.
Nicolas accepted it slowly, his expression filled with both surprise and curiosity. Placing it beside him on the table, he said warmly,
"You really didn't have to bring me a gift. I hope I didn't trouble you."
Albert shook his head.
"No, no. It's perfectly normal. A guest should honor his host."
A faint smile appeared on Nicolas's face. There was something unusual about this young man—a strange blend of mystery and kindness.
Dumbledore's expression sharpened with suspicion.
"What brings you here?" he asked calmly but seriously. "And how did you discover Mr. Nicolas's home? Very few people know of this place."
Albert maintained his calm smile and answered with an obvious lie.
"One of those few people you mentioned told me about this place. As for why I came, I wished to discuss the Philosopher's Stone with you."
At those words, Nicolas and Dumbledore exchanged wary glances. There was no reason for someone like Albert to concern himself with the Stone—unless something dangerous was happening behind the scenes.
Frowning, Dumbledore asked directly,
"Do you need the Stone?"
Albert calmly shook his head.
"No, that's not what I mean."
But Dumbledore had no patience left for evasions.
"Then why are you interested in it?" he demanded.
A moment of silence followed before Albert finally spoke, his voice lower and more careful.
"Because Voldemort is trying to take it from you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's expression changed completely.
It felt as though lightning had struck his mind. He placed a hand against his forehead and slowly shook his head.
"My goodness... I forgot about Voldemort. After his return, I completely forgot that the Stone would become one of his targets!"
Nicolas looked at him anxiously.
"Then what should we do?"
Albert, however, remained calm, as though he had already prepared for this possibility.
"Don't worry about the Stone," he said to Nicolas. "I've already instructed Snape to delay Voldemort's movements toward the Ministry for as long as possible. Headmaster, I came to inform you because I was certain you weren't in Britain."
After finishing, Albert smiled once more at Dumbledore. Then he turned toward Nicolas, bowed respectfully, and said,
"It was an honor meeting you, Mr. Nicolas. I shall take my leave now."
And just as suddenly as he had appeared, Albert vanished once again with incredible speed, as though he had never existed at all.
Heavy silence filled the room.
After several moments, Dumbledore stood and took a deep breath.
"Very well, Flamel," he said seriously. "I believe I must depart as well. The Stone is no longer safe."
Nicolas slowly rose to his feet and placed a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.
"Take care of yourself, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore looked at his old friend for a moment and offered him that familiar reassuring smile that had brought comfort even in the darkest times.
Then he turned toward the door and departed.
---
Meanwhile, back at the Black family home—
Everyone, including Sirius and the Weasleys, had gathered around the breakfast table.
Molly Weasley spoke gently to Harry.
"I've laid out your best clothes for your visit today, Harry, and I'd like you to wash your hair as well. First impressions can work wonders."
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny all stopped talking and looked at him.
Harry nodded and tried to continue eating, but his mouth had become so dry that he could barely swallow.
Trying to sound indifferent, he asked Mrs. Weasley,
"How am I getting there?"
"Gently now," she replied. "Arthur will take you to work with him."
Arthur Weasley smiled encouragingly across the table.
"You can wait in my office until your hearing begins."
Harry looked toward Sirius, but before he could ask anything, Mrs. Weasley answered for him.
"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it would be wise for Sirius to accompany you, and I must say—"
"...that you think he's absolutely right," Sirius finished through clenched teeth.
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in annoyance.
Harry stared at Sirius.
"When did Dumbledore tell you this?"
Mr. Weasley answered,
"He came by last night while you were all asleep and left again rather quickly."
Sirius poked absentmindedly at the potatoes on his plate with his fork.
Harry lowered his eyes to his own plate.
The thought that Dumbledore had visited the house without even asking to see him hurt more than he wanted to admit.
To be continued...