The moment I stepped through the door of Slytherin Manor, a sharp Ding sounded in my mind.
"You have completed your second year of Hogwarts. Congratulations. Reward: Full knowledge of Nicolas Flamel's alchemy."
I froze. Nicolas Flamel. The very name made my blood race. The legendary alchemist, immortalized in history and myth, 600 years of alchemy knowledge now at my fingertips. Knowledge of the Philosopher's Stone, creation of magical artifacts, weapons, and spells — the ultimate repository of alchemical genius.
Before I could even comprehend it, my head split open with pain. The flood of knowledge was instantaneous — centuries of theories, formulas, and magical principles crashing into my mind at once. I screamed, clutching my head as the torrent of information tried to overwhelm me.
Minutes passed — though it felt like an eternity — before I could adjust. I staggered, sweat dripping down my face, my body trembling from the intensity. Slowly, I forced my breathing to even out, centering myself.
When the storm of knowledge finally settled, I sat up, my mind sharper than it had ever been. I could feel every principle, every formula, every ancient alchemical method like second nature. I could visualize magical reactions, predict outcomes, and even improve upon techniques that had taken Flamel centuries to perfect.
This was not just learning; it was inheritance. Every subtlety of alchemy, every method to create magical items, every process to harness mystical energy — it was all mine. I could already see the possibilities: enhanced potions, enchanted artifacts, even objects that could rival the power of ancient spells.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight and the potential of this knowledge settle into my mind. A headache remained, a dull throb as my mind recalibrated, but beneath it was a thrilling clarity. I had access to secrets no living wizard had ever mastered in a single lifetime.
And with that power, the world was mine to shape.