"Finally," I mutter, silencing Dumbledore's portrait with a flick of my wand. The old fool's voice fades into blessed silence. Before I can even savor it, my mirror flares to life — Lucius's pale face staring back at me.
"My Lord," he says nervously, "we've found him."
A moment later, I Apparate to a remote stretch of French countryside. The air is damp, mist curling over the ground like a shroud. Around me stand Lucius, Regulus, Anne, and several lesser Death Eaters, all waiting in silence. Ahead looms a mansion — large, ancient, and encased in wards so powerful I can feel them humming in my bones.
"Flamel," I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips. "At last."
It takes me half an hour to unravel the enchantments — intricate work, centuries old, yet still beneath me. Each layer falls like silk under my touch until, with one final push, the protective shell collapses.
I blast open the doors.
The first to greet us is Perenelle Flamel. Her eyes widen, and before she can speak, I flick my wand — she slams against the wall and crumples, unconscious.
"Such a pity," I murmur, motioning to one of my followers. "Point your wand at her. If her husband doesn't appear in five seconds, kill her."
The air shimmers. Nicolas Flamel steps into view, his frail frame adorned with glowing alchemical talismans that radiate ancient power.
"Lord Voldemort," he says evenly. "I wondered when you would come."
"Your little trinkets won't save you," I sneer.
He moves faster than I expect. A surge of silver light knocks three Death Eaters backward; their screams echo through the hall. I retaliate instantly — transfiguring the marble floor into serpentine chains that lash upward. Flamel counters with a blast of pure alchemical energy, dissolving them into dust.
"You're strong, old man," I admit, circling him. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."
"And you," he replies, "are still a frightened boy, hiding behind death."
The taunt makes my magic surge. Flames burst from my wand — a storm of fire roaring toward him. Flamel claps his hands, creating a vacuum that steals the air itself, smothering my inferno in seconds.
The duel rages.Walls collapse. Stone melts. Every curse, every counter, becomes faster — darker — deadlier.
For the first time in decades, I feel challenged.
Finally, I catch him off guard — a feint with a transfigured spear, then a whispered Avada Kedavra. The green light strikes him square in the chest. His alchemical amulets flare desperately, but one by one they shatter under the force.
Nicolas Flamel collapses.
I approach his fallen body, looking down at the legendary alchemist who once defied death itself.
"Immortality," I murmur, kneeling beside him. "It seems, old man, you never truly found it."