What Flamel described afterward was an outright tragedy.
The young wizard who had replaced him entered the alchemical experiment under Flamel's identity, but survived less than ten minutes before making a fatal mistake and being blown apart in a massive explosion.
"And after that... well, you can see the result yourself."
Flamel gave the final summary.
"I returned from the misty illusion realm to reality and entered this young wizard's body."
He sighed softly.
Life truly was unpredictable. He had prepared himself for a grand adventure beyond death, only for things to turn out like this instead.
"Death and resurrection..."
After listening to the story, Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. Memories and knowledge from his long life surfaced one after another before a single phrase escaped his lips:
"The Resurrection Stone."
"Oh? Looks like we arrived at the same conclusion, Albus."
Flamel smiled and nodded.
"That was my thought as well."
One of them had once pursued the Deathly Hallows alongside Grindelwald.
The other stood at the pinnacle of alchemy.
Both understood the Resurrection Stone far better than most people alive and had read countless texts concerning the Deathly Hallows.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples, recalling a certain obscure book titled Studies on the Resurrection Stone.
He had read it in his youth.
The book recorded the experiences of a wizard who, in an attempt to escape death, ground the Resurrection Stone into powder and drank it.
Dumbledore vaguely remembered that a censored edition of the text still sat somewhere in Hogwarts' library.
"If that's truly the case, then there's no need to panic too much."
Flamel crunched through a biscuit as he spoke.
"The Resurrection Stone cannot be destroyed forever. One day it will inevitably reappear, and when it does, the chaos between life and death will return to order."
Dumbledore nodded slightly.
He recognized the line immediately.
It was the exact conclusion written by the author at the end of the uncensored edition of Studies on the Resurrection Stone.
However—
"Who brought the Resurrection Stone here?"
Dumbledore suddenly focused on the real issue.
This was not some ordinary pebble lying beside the road.
The Deathly Hallows were extraordinarily rare. Grindelwald himself had spent years searching desperately and still managed to find only one.
Even Dumbledore, during a certain period of his life, had pursued the Resurrection Stone obsessively, investing enormous effort without success.
He frowned deeply.
But almost immediately, a name surfaced in his mind.
Dawn Richter.
There was no evidence.
No logical basis.
Yet Dumbledore's instincts screamed that if anyone would do something like this, it would absolutely be Dawn.
But why?
Even assuming Dawn had somehow obtained the Resurrection Stone, why would he use it in this way?
Dumbledore could not understand.
Perhaps Dawn had foreseen being thrown through the Veil and deliberately used the Resurrection Stone to secure a new body, hoping to someday rescue his original self.
That explanation seemed plausible.
Yet when Dumbledore recalled the expression on Dawn's face when he claimed, "This was an accident," it had not resembled a lie.
Dawn always acted in ways that left people utterly confused.
Just like last school year, nobody could truly tell what he was thinking.
Dumbledore sighed softly.
For a brief moment, he even wondered whether directly questioning Dawn would actually yield an answer.
Could there possibly be some method to fully understand Dawn Richter from the inside out?
The thought quietly emerged in the old headmaster's heart.
At the same time, remembering Dawn's obsession with returning to his original body, Dumbledore said with a headache:
"Nicolas, the bracelet you gave me appears to have stopped working."
"Hm? The bracelet?" Flamel frowned. "You mean the one that forces phoenixes into dormancy?"
"That's right."
"That shouldn't happen..."
Flamel thought carefully.
"Well, I suppose deterioration over time is possible, but it's only been a few days."
He looked at Dumbledore. "What did you do?"
"I threw Dawn through the Veil."
Dumbledore asked quietly, "Would that affect it?"
"...No. It shouldn't."
Flamel shook his head after thinking it through.
"I've studied that stone arch before. I've even thrown other alchemical items into it. I'm quite certain it doesn't deactivate magical objects."
"I see."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly before abruptly shifting directions.
"Nicolas, since you've studied that archway... is there any way to destroy it completely?"
Not long ago, he and Dawn had been speaking almost warmly to one another. Yet none of that stopped Dumbledore from immediately considering betrayal.
Unfortunately for him, Flamel simply shook his head. "Sorry, Albus. That isn't something I can accomplish."
After a brief pause, he added:
"Or rather, destroying it itself is not difficult. What I cannot prevent is its eventual reappearance."
As expected.
Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose.
From this perspective, his previous attempt to deal with Dawn had utterly failed.
Fortunately, now that they understood Dawn's possession of students was most likely connected to the Resurrection Stone, there was at least some comfort.
Once the Resurrection Stone reappeared, Dawn would naturally leave the students' bodies.
The long-term consequences would not become too disastrous.
But Voldemort was different.
The Resurrection Stone had nothing to do with him.
Dumbledore lowered his gaze in thought before suddenly standing up and opening the cabinet beside the wall, revealing rows of carefully stored potions.
"Nicolas."
He called his old friend's name while plucking a strand of his own hair and handing it over together with a bottle of Polyjuice Potion.
"For a period of time, I may need to sleep very deeply."
"When that happens, I'll need you to temporarily take over my identity and responsibilities."
Dumbledore's expression was solemn.
Flamel glanced at the opened cabinet, particularly at the large quantity of Felix Felicis stored within, and immediately understood Dumbledore's intentions.
After learning that Voldemort had split his soul across countless students, Dumbledore had exchanged letters with Flamel regarding the matter, including the strange story about Olivia.
"When?" the alchemy master asked directly.
"Tonight."
Dumbledore did not know how long he would remain unconscious afterward, so he intended to begin immediately rather than waste more time.
Flamel frowned.
"Albus, do you truly believe such nonsense?"
"Drinking excessive Felix Felicis to receive magical insight through dreams?"
Even after centuries of life, Flamel found the idea absurd.
"I'm merely testing the possibility."
Dumbledore spoke softly.
"I already asked Severus. While the side effects are severe, there's no real danger to my life."
As he spoke, Dumbledore removed the bottle of Felix Felicis from the cabinet, watching the golden liquid swirl inside before slipping it into his sleeve.
Truthfully—
This idea had not been a sudden impulse.
Ever since learning about Voldemort's condition, Dumbledore had constantly searched for solutions.
At one point, he had even considered using the Brains in Jars stored within the Department of Mysteries.
Those floating brains suspended in liquid behaved almost like living organisms.
Normally, thoughts were simply the product of brain activity and lacked physical form.
But the thoughts produced by those preserved brains could somehow manifest materially and exert real effects upon reality.
Dumbledore had once wondered whether those brains could somehow force Voldemort's fragmented consciousness inside the students into a tangible state—allowing him to eliminate it piece by piece.
But the unpredictability and danger involved ultimately pushed that method to the bottom of his list.
Aside from that—
His remaining option was to imitate Olivia's experience and attempt to obtain the spell responsible for the soul-sharing phenomenon through dreams induced by excessive Felix Felicis consumption.
Or perhaps directly obtain the countercurse itself.
Unfortunately, after learning about the Castle Consciousness and later discovering Leia Hickman's true identity through Peeves, the plan had gradually been pushed aside.
But now—
Given Hogwarts' current condition, Dumbledore honestly believed he could no longer compete against Voldemort and Dawn when it came to manipulating the collective awareness of the students.
Especially since Voldemort's latest actions suggested he had additional objectives.
And so, Dumbledore found himself returning to his earlier ideas once again.
If he could discover a countercurse to the soul-sharing spell, then every terrible outcome could be stopped before it ever happened.
His fingers tightened around the potion hidden inside his sleeve.
"I understand." Flamel did not continue arguing. "Until you awaken, I'll watch over Hogwarts for you."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Thank you."
Afterward, the old headmaster carefully explained the castle's bizarre situation to Flamel, placing particular emphasis on Dawn's current state.
Once everything had been committed to memory, Nicolas Flamel left the office.
There was still time before evening.
And before then, he intended to properly enjoy the healthy life he had unexpectedly regained.
Glancing at the gloomy sky outside, the alchemy master stretched his body in satisfaction.
How many years had it been since he last experienced movement without pain or stiffness?
Recalling the tasteless liquid meals he had consumed near the end of his life, Flamel quickly decided his first priority would be satisfying his neglected sense of taste.
However—
While passing by the Hufflepuff common room entrance on his way toward the kitchens, a red-haired boy suddenly stepped into the corridor and blocked his path.
"Mr. Flamel?"
Dawn narrowed his eyes slightly, testing the name.
The subtle shift in the other man's expression instantly confirmed he had guessed correctly.
So Nicolas Flamel really had replaced Abel Davis and returned to reality.
In that case, Dawn no longer hesitated.
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Flamel, but could we talk for a bit?"
"...Talk?"
Flamel looked momentarily surprised.
Studying the sudden roadblock before him, he quickly recalled Dumbledore's earlier warnings and immediately identified the boy.
Dawn Richter.
Though he had no idea how Dawn recognized his true identity, Flamel was equally curious about this troublesome figure Dumbledore kept mentioning.
"If you don't mind," Flamel said warmly, "could we speak in the kitchens instead?"
Dawn shrugged casually.
"Of course, Mr. Flamel."
Having reached an agreement, Flamel scanned the corridor and, relying on centuries of accumulated knowledge, quickly identified the mechanism to enter the kitchens.
Tickling the pear painting, he opened the hidden door. The two entered one after another.
The house-elves bustled frantically around the kitchens.
Upon seeing them, they hurried over nervously and led the pair to an empty table before rushing away to prepare the requested food.
While waiting for the meal, Flamel smiled gently. "So then, child, what exactly did you wish to discuss?"
Dawn frowned slightly.
Seeing an ancient alchemist make such grandfatherly expressions while wearing the face of a young student felt deeply unsettling.
Shaking the feeling away, he cast a soundproofing spell around them.
"Actually, Mr. Flamel, not long ago I came across records describing how the Church once used magical outbursts from young wizards to create magical objects."
He began with a simple question.
"I want to ask you something. Would objects created that way still count as alchemical creations?"
"Oh? Magical outbursts..."
Flamel had clearly expected something entirely different.
After thinking briefly, he responded with a question of his own. "Before I answer, child—what exactly do you believe alchemy is?"
"Using runes and magical circuits to grant ordinary matter supernatural properties."
Dawn answered simply.
"Mm. What a terribly rigid misconception."
Flamel's temples twitched involuntarily at the confident reply.
The moment the discussion touched upon his beloved field, his expression gradually became extremely serious.
"Listen carefully, child."
"The history of alchemy stretches back unimaginably far. Proven records alone trace its existence more than twenty-five hundred years into the past."
"It is absolutely not the shallow thing you imagine it to be."
Flamel asked:
"Do you know Aristotle?"
"The Muggle philosopher from around 300 BC?"
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Him." Flamel nodded before immediately correcting him. "However, Aristotle was not a Muggle. He was a wizard."
Ignoring Dawn's startled expression, Flamel continued, "Then surely you know Aristotle's concept of Aether?"
"Aether..."
Dawn thought for a moment. "The so-called fifth element?"
"A substance believed to exist in the heavens, eternal, subtle, and perfect. It became the foundation of alchemy in the Muggle world."
Having once lived in the non-magical world, Dawn naturally knew the more famous concepts.
But suddenly— He froze slightly.
Eternal.
Subtle.
Perfect.
Why did those descriptions sound remarkably similar to natural magic?
The thought pulled him briefly into contemplation.
"You know quite a lot."
Flamel looked mildly surprised before quickly appearing pleased.
"That makes this explanation easier."
"For Muggles, Aether was merely a theoretical concept. They searched endlessly for traces of it yet never truly discovered anything."
"But for wizards, Aether undeniably exists. It flows through our bodies from birth."
"It is what we call magic."
Flamel directly confirmed Dawn's suspicions.
"So, the true foundation of alchemy is the study of transformation through magic itself—matter conversion, creation of life, immortality, and the relationship between souls and reality."
He spoke with unmistakable seriousness, defining the art he loved most.
Dawn, however, only felt helpless.
He had merely wanted to ask about the difference between magical items created through magical outbursts and those created through crafted magical circuits.
Instead, Flamel had expanded the definition of alchemy to include practically everything related to magic.
Was that really reasonable?
"So then, Mr. Flamel—what exactly is the difference between objects created through magical outbursts and those created through manually inscribed magical circuits?"
Dawn asked again.
"None."
Flamel answered directly this time.
"I've studied both kinds extensively and found no fundamental difference whatsoever."
"Both contain runic structures and magical circuits. One is deliberately crafted by humans, while the other is naturally generated through magic itself."
...Honestly, couldn't he have just said that from the beginning?
Dawn sighed internally.
Flamel clearly possessed some incredibly stubborn convictions regarding alchemy.
Then Dawn asked another question that had long interested him.
"So, Mr. Flamel—do you think the artifacts left behind by the Four Founders, along with the Deathly Hallows, were created through deliberate craftsmanship or magical outbursts?"
"Sorry. I cannot answer that."
Flamel shook his head.
"No matter which possibility is true, I possess no conclusive evidence."
Dawn considered briefly.
"Then if you attempted to recreate them yourself, could you do it? Either through normal methods or magical outburst techniques?"
Flamel thought carefully.
"The artifacts left behind by the Four Founders... perhaps."
"Even if I couldn't reproduce them exactly, I'm confident I could create objects with equivalent effects."
Then he spoke honestly:
"But the Deathly Hallows? No."
At the mention of the Hallows, his brow furrowed once more.
"I've studied Dumbledore's Elder Wand several times. I am completely certain it is not something I can replicate."
"Oh?"
Dawn raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Aren't you supposed to be among the greatest alchemists alive?"
If even Flamel could not reproduce them, then perhaps the Deathly Hallows truly had been born directly from collective consciousness and natural magic itself.
"Child, you seem to misunderstand me somewhat."
Flamel spread his hands.
"While I have indeed traveled very far along the path of alchemy, my greatest expertise lies not in artifact creation, but in material transformation."
Material transformation.
Dawn immediately thought of the Philosopher's Stone—the miraculous object capable of turning stone into gold.
But strangely—
At that moment, Flamel suddenly felt... less impressive.
After all, through specialized pattern manipulation and stabilization using natural magic, Dawn himself could theoretically accomplish similar feats.
Besides—
According to Flamel's earlier explanation, Dawn could already achieve nearly everything Flamel listed under alchemy, whether it involved life creation or immortality.
"Child, you appear to be thinking something rather rude." Flamel suddenly chuckled while staring directly into Dawn's eyes.
Dawn instinctively denied it. "No. Not at all."
"Really?"
Flamel leaned back in his chair.
"Child, I can guess what you're thinking. I've heard quite a lot about you from Albus."
___________
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