The altar fell into chaos as the elves argued loudly among themselves. Kevin quickly ordered the two factions to stand on opposite sides. Watching the tense atmosphere, Sean felt a bad premonition.
"This isn't going to turn into a fight, is it…"
"Kevin, what are you doing? Dividing the clan, stirring conflict, defying the ancestral law?" Arwen immediately pressed him.
But Kevin remained calm. He addressed the crowd below the altar.
"For five thousand years, our people have lived in unity and harmony. There has never been internal strife—and there will not be today."
The crowd gradually quieted as he continued, "We all revere our great ancestor Selwyn. I, too, will not violate his will."
Kevin stepped forward and looked directly at Sean. "Sean Grylls is the one chosen by our ancestor. I trust that choice."
Arwen looked at him in surprise. He had just been opposing this—why the sudden change?
"But not now," Kevin added, his tone shifting. "Only when he can defeat me will I acknowledge him as our leader."
Arwen upheld the ancestral law and believed in Selwyn without question. Since Sean had been chosen, she was certain he must possess something extraordinary. Even though Kevin's strength ranked just below her own, she believed Sean would surpass him.
Before she could speak to Sean, he stepped forward first.
"I agree completely. Without strength, how could I lead the elves? I need time to grow. But before that… shouldn't I be allowed to leave and grow stronger outside?"
Arwen had worried Sean might feel wronged, but seeing how composed and reasonable he was reassured her.
"By our rules, humans who enter cannot leave," Kevin said. "But you… are an exception."
Sean's heart lifted—until Kevin added,
"But he cannot." He pointed at Dumbledore. "He must remain here."
Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly, but as a gentleman, he held his tongue.
Sean, however, immediately objected.
"That's not acceptable. My school still needs him. As the one who drew the sword, don't I have at least that much authority? We came together—we leave together."
Dumbledore looked at Sean, his gaze filled with mixed emotions—gratitude, pride, and something deeper.
Before Kevin could respond, Arwen spoke up in support of Sean.
"He has already accepted your condition and made concessions. By the ancestral law, he could already command us—but he hasn't."
She glanced at Sean. "His request is not unreasonable."
Kevin fell silent for a moment, then finally nodded.
"Very well. He may leave as well—but his memories of this place must be erased."
"I accept," Dumbledore replied without hesitation.
Two days later, inside the same pizza shop in the town, Sean, Dumbledore, and Linda sat at the table where they had first met.
"My injury… it's completely gone?" Dumbledore examined the flow of magic within his body. The foreign magic left by Ogadis had been completely removed. He was fully recovered—but he had no memory of how.
"Professor, three days ago your old friend Arwen brought you to the elven village for treatment. To protect its location, you agreed to have that memory erased before leaving," Sean explained.
"It's a rule of the clan," Linda added. "Humans who enter aren't supposed to leave—but my great-aunt made an exception for you."
"Finally out," Sean said with a convincing sigh. "I've been waiting here for three days."
Only Dumbledore's memory had been erased. To conceal the truth about the Holy Sword, Sean and Arwen had fabricated a story.
Sean had not brought the sword with him. It was far too conspicuous—and far too dangerous to carry.
Instead, Arwen had given him something else—a palm-sized bone flute with three holes. With a single note, she would come to his aid.
Sean suspected it was some kind of advanced spatial artifact—though likely usable only once.
"Where is Arwen? I should thank her," Dumbledore said.
"You already did, Professor," Sean replied.
"Did I?" Dumbledore had no recollection, but his healed condition confirmed it must be true.
A master of Legilimency like him would normally sense something amiss if his memory had been forcibly altered. But this had been done with his own consent—there was no sense of inconsistency.
Besides, his purpose had only been to heal. Whether he remembered the village or not was irrelevant. Now that he was recovered, he needed to return to Britain immediately.
The Christmas holidays were not yet over. On the Astronomy Tower, Harry and Ron stood idly, watching the snow fall like drifting feathers.
"Sean suddenly disappeared… and Professor Dumbledore too. Where do you think they went?" Harry murmured.
"Who knows? Sean's treatment is nothing like ours. The headmaster favors him so much—maybe he took him on some holiday trip," Ron guessed.
Life at Hogwarts had become dull and uneventful. Recently, Harry had taken Ron to the third-floor storage room again. It truly contained nothing but clutter.
Still, Harry remained convinced there was a secret hidden there.
Sean had gone there late at night before—he must know something.
"I'll ask him when he gets back," Harry decided.
Suddenly, on the snowy lawn below the tower, space twisted—and two figures appeared.
Dumbledore had returned, bringing Sean back from London Airport via Apparition.
Harry jumped, slapping Ron on the back. "Ron! Look!"
"That's the headmaster—and Sean!" Ron leaned over the edge to look.
Professor McGonagall had already been informed of Dumbledore's return. She quickly summoned Snape and hurried to the headmaster's office.
"Professor, your injuries… are you healed?" McGonagall asked, noticing how much better he looked.
"With the help of my elven friend, yes," Dumbledore replied.
"That's a relief," she said, letting out a breath.
Snape remained silent, but the tension in his expression eased. However, when he finally spoke, it was grim news.
"Professor, Nicolas Flamel is dead. His castle has been reduced to ruins. I suspect Haerpo is responsible."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change. His old friend had long been prepared to face death. Still, it was a loss—Flamel could have lived a few more years.
"So it really happened…" Sean murmured. He had feared this outcome ever since Voldemort was deceived by the fake Philosopher's Stone.
In Knockturn Alley, inside a dim potion shop, Haerpo stood over a filthy, ragged vagrant bound by a Binding Spell.
"Death is not so easy," Haerpo said coldly. "Let me see how well your memory was erased… Nicolas Flamel."
The vagrant's eyes widened in terror.
Not long ago, beneath a bridge in the outskirts of London, the original owner of this body had been killed by Haerpo with the Killing Curse.
Now, that body had become a vessel.
A new soul had been forced into it.
And Nicolas Flamel—whose original body had been reduced to pulp beneath the collapsing castle—was now trapped inside this чуж.
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