Transferring curses.
For a powerful wizard, there were actually countless methods available to accomplish this.
Using the curse's characteristics to change its host, stripping it away with magical power and redirecting it, or simply severing what it clung to and using a Levitation Charm to move the whole thing—all were viable methods of transfer.
But for this death curse, these methods weren't particularly effective.
As Nicolas Flamel had explained, this was a product jointly formed by the purest death intent and the most desperate soul fragment. It wasn't complex, nor was it intricate, but a curse of this magnitude didn't need elaborate arrangements.
It simply existed, and the death intent radiating from it was enough to curse to death any wizard of insufficient capability.
Against such raw malevolence, conventional wizarding techniques fell short.
It had no exploitable characteristics—the curse and Horcrux had become one entity, so there was no way to transfer it by manipulating properties. It was too powerful; attempting to strip it away with magical force risked allowing it to invade directly into the wizard's body along the magical connection.
And although this curse appeared crude in construction, it had safeguards woven into its essence. If someone directly moved it with a Levitation Charm, it would likely trigger defensive measures halfway through the process.
At that point, probably few in the entire castle would survive.
In comparison, a master alchemist had quite a few advantages in this regard.
At this moment, Nicolas Flamel knelt on the stone floor, his left hand gripping his wand, his right hand wielding a strange-looking quill, continuously sketching intricate patterns into the array on the ground.
A massive magical array had already manifested on the Room of Requirement's floor. It resembled countless overlapping pentagons, but each pentagon was missing one side. Those edges curved inward toward the centre, constructing smaller and smaller pentagrams that extended toward the middle until they became completely indiscernible to the naked eye.
Four corners of the pentagon flickered with yellow, blue, red, and white light—representing alchemy's four classical elements. It was precisely their presence that allowed this array to continue operating.
The fifth corner, however, faintly glowed with a pale green luminescence.
Looking at that glow, Evans felt a strange sensation stirring in his chest. Unlike that so-called rebirth ritual before, this light didn't feel warm to him—rather, it felt somewhat oppressive.
As if something deeply pitiable was imprisoned within that green radiance.
But before Evans could identify where this oppression originated, the pentagonal array on the ground suddenly began contracting. The shapes converged toward the wizard statue in the centre, growing smaller and smaller, yet as it compressed, the magical power dispersing through the room became increasingly dense and palpable.
Until at a certain moment, the array compressed to its absolute limit and suddenly exploded outward, enveloping everything in its radius. The next instant, the surrounding piles of accumulated junk scattered aside, completely clearing the array's coverage area. The wizard statue at the array's centre began slowly rotating and twisting, as if undergoing some fundamental transformation.
At this moment, looking at that faintly green-tinged array, Evans suddenly felt as if a dormant power had awakened within his body.
This power was similar to magical energy, yet fundamentally different. It was gentler, warmer, like invisible hands brushing tenderly past his back, slowly condensing behind him into something tangible.
Evans was intimately familiar with this power. Every time he used his talent at full capacity, this power would manifest, helping him better harness those magical creatures' abilities.
This was also one of the reasons why the magical creature spells he created could never quite match his innate talent's effectiveness.
With barely a thought, Evans turned his head to look behind him.
At this moment, invisible currents of air were slowly condensing in the space behind him, but the manifestation was completely different from before.
Usually, when he fully activated his talent, countless ethereal forms would appear behind him, condensing into corresponding magical creature silhouettes in mid-air.
But this time, the air currents didn't seem to condense into any creature's distinct form. Instead, they continuously twisted, expanded, and spread in all directions.
Until finally, they faintly formed the shape of a towering tree, emanating that same pale green glow as the array.
At this moment, the originally massive array suddenly contracted with finality, falling entirely onto that wizard statue for its ultimate transformation.
The originally lifeless bust seemed to gain a spark of true vitality. Its carved eyeballs began rotating with awareness, its rigid body gradually sprouting small, stubby legs and small, stubby arms. Compared to that substantial torso, this pair of limbs looked far too small, creating a somewhat comical appearance.
But it was precisely these absurd-looking limbs that supported the wizard statue's considerable weight. Moments later, the array's glow abruptly vanished. The statue leaped down from its former pedestal, landed on the stone floor, moved its newfound hands and feet experimentally, and began curiously examining everything around it with newfound sentience.
"The effect is this remarkable?"
Watching the statue that was virtually indistinguishable from a living creature, surprise flashed across Dumbledore's eyes.
Although Transfiguration could achieve similar visual effects quite easily, this statue was a product of living transmutation.
This meant its essence had fundamentally changed—a metamorphosis that Transfiguration could never replicate.
He had witnessed Nicolas Flamel's living transmutation demonstrations many times over the decades, but never once had it produced such profoundly powerful results.
"It's—remarkably natural." Flamel studied the curious-faced statue intently, then suddenly turned to glance at the young man beside him who was examining his own hands with wonder.
When his ritual had reached its final crescendo, the magical working had suddenly shifted slightly in character.
Although the change wasn't dramatic—in fact, if he hadn't performed living transmutation enough times to know its patterns intimately, he might not have noticed the alteration at all.
But looking at the results now, it was precisely that subtle change that had created the current extraordinary outcome.
And the power that had influenced the ritual felt remarkably similar to the ritual described in that ancient text he'd encountered so long ago.
"Nature—nature—"
Lowering his head and continuously repeating this word under his breath, Nicolas Flamel's cloudy eyes gradually brightened with realisation.
But this spark quickly dimmed, transforming into profound regret.
Just moments ago, he had suddenly understood that the knowledge he had pursued for over six hundred years might have gained an entirely new interpretation.
But grasping this fleeting spark of inspiration was no longer something the current him could accomplish.
Not to mention whether he still possessed that research vigour from his younger years—he had less than two years of life remaining.
This amount of time was far too short for an alchemist, so brief he didn't even have the opportunity for extensive experimentation.
However, if someone possessed sufficient ability and time, perhaps they could complete this monumental achievement?
With this thought, he raised his head and studied the young man standing nearby.
When conducting the rebirth ritual earlier, he had sensed that this young man's connection to nature was extraordinarily close, even making his phoenix rebirth ritual proceed with unusual smoothness.
And just now, when performing living transmutation, he had also vaguely felt a sensation completely different from any previous attempt.
Was it possible that this fundamental change occurred precisely because this young man was present?
After pondering for a long moment, Flamel looked directly at Evans and spoke with quiet intensity, "Professor Kahn, do you have any understanding of alchemy?"
"If not, would you be interested in learning about it?"
"Ah?"