Read my new story (ilham20)
Hogwarts : Black family bloodline...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
"Do you want to continue the tour, or fill your stomach first, child?"
Madam Flamel stood at the top of the ramp. She looked almost pure white, save for her pale gray eyes which gazed down at Ares with a smile.
Ares's brows relaxed. He didn't answer immediately, allowing Madam Flamel to read his true thoughts.
"It seems you want to continue the tour," Madam Flamel said with a beaming smile.
"Yes, Madam. These photos are very interesting."
Ares looked back at the last photo hanging in the passageway.
"There are many more interesting things inside the room. You might need a guide."
Madam Flamel said, shuffling her feet as she began to walk down.
Ares immediately jogged up to meet her, supporting her arm as they descended the stairs. His movements were incredibly careful, as if terrified he might accidentally snap her fragile arm.
"This photo holds great commemorative significance—"
Madam Flamel stopped in front of the photo Ares had just been examining.
"Hmm—"
"Yes, I can see that... It was taken after Professor Dumbledore defeated that man?"
Unlike any other photo Ares had seen here, the background of this one was gray, bleak, and ruined... it was a pile of rubble stretching as far as the eye could see, with raging fires still burning in several places.
There were three people in the photo—a Dumbledore who looked as if he had lost something precious, a Nicolas Flamel whose gaze revealed deep compassion, and a young man who had his head turned sideways, seemingly afraid to look at the camera.
"Correct, correct—"
Madam Flamel nodded. After suppressing her smile, the vicissitudes of time granted to her by her long life seemed to permeate the air.
"That was in Paris. It happened after the final duel between that child, Albus, and Grindelwald... Of course, people now know that Albus won... but he paid a very painful price. People took this photo to celebrate...
Oh, and that young man is Newt. A very kind, simple-hearted child. Both Nicolas and I like him very much."
"Yeah, I guessed as much."
Ares nodded. His gaze slid past Newt Scamander's shy profile and settled on Dumbledore's face for a few seconds.
The Dumbledore of that time was much younger than he was today, sporting a medium-length beard and hair. His posture was upright, and he looked impressively sharp and heroic.
But perhaps because he had just buried the 'love of his life' with his own hands, the sorrow overflowing from those blue eyes was incredibly intense.
As for Nicolas Flamel—
He stood between Dumbledore and Scamander... his appearance wasn't much different from the other photos in the passageway—aged, frail, powerless, looking as if a slightly strong gust of wind could blow him over.
"It was very tragic," Madam Flamel sighed.
"In the long lives Nicolas and I have shared, that was the only time we witnessed wizards engaging in such a brutal war... even Muggles were swept into it.
Before Albus defeated Grindelwald, the situation once made Nicolas and me feel that all hope was completely lost. At the time, Nicolas had me lead the students to hide in a secret chamber he established in the mountains behind Beauxbatons, while he decided to go help that child, Albus...
Such a silly old man. His constitution was even less robust than mine. I once thought he was surely done for... However, it wasn't a bad thing in the end."
"Respectable."
Ares gazed deeply at Flamel in the photo... Before today, he had never seen Flamel's true face in any book. This was his first time seeing the legendary alchemist—Nicolas Flamel.
"Heh... cough—"
Madam Flamel laughed with a raspy voice. Perhaps because she hadn't spoken to anyone in a while, she seemed in high spirits, every wrinkle on her face radiating joy.
"Do you want to see other things here, child?"
She pointed to a smooth black velvet curtain on her right.
"Inside there are some... oh, I think it was about three or four hundred years ago? Nicolas was young and energetic back then... you know, he couldn't stand being idle.
So, for about half a century, he treated alchemy as a pastime... he tinkered around and made quite a few little gadgets... many people who have seen them say they are interesting... though I think they're just average."
"Ah, that would be more than I could ask for," Ares said, tearing his gaze away from the photo.
This was entirely sincere. One had to know that among the living experts in alchemy, Nicolas Flamel was the undisputed number one. No one could surpass him, not even Dumbledore.
"Then come along—"
Madam Flamel said. Supported by Ares, she slowly shuffled toward the curtain.
Ares volunteered to pull back the black velvet curtain.
As soon as he lifted the heavy fabric—Hiss!
It was like an instantaneous switch from midnight to high noon. A blinding, brilliant golden light stabbed into Ares's eyes, forcing him to squint!
Gold... it was all gold!!!
Oh... that isn't to say that this basement, roughly half the size of a Quidditch pitch, was filled with piles of gold. Rather, the entire room—from the floor to the walls, connecting all the way to the ceiling—was constructed from thick, solid, genuine gold bricks spliced together!
Staring at this world of pure yellow gold before him, Ares suddenly felt an urge to weep.
Mainly from the heartache.
He had schemed and "hustled" for a few meager coins, going so far as to design his own imprisonment, getting himself "confined" at Hogwarts by Dumbledore. Meanwhile, Flamel, who owned the Philosopher's Stone, was building houses out of gold bricks!
This was simply... too infuriating!
"You like this room?"
Madam Flamel was naturally unsurprised by Ares's dazed state. she asked with a beaming smile.
"It's... it's alright..."
Ares said, pursing his lips.
"Mainly... I've never seen such a... magnificent room."
"Oh, when we built this basement, we didn't intend to be so flashy—"
Madam Flamel's tone held a hint of complaint.
"But the countryside here is far from the city, and it was difficult to get building materials. So, Nicolas suggested: 'Let's just use gold bricks, we have plenty of gold blocks. The house will be sturdy, and we won't get those headache-inducing Bundimuns.' So, I agreed."
The smile on the corner of Ares's mouth... was very forced.
However, recovering his wits, he furrowed his brows and looked at Madam Flamel, advising softly, "Not to criticize, Madam... but you might be a bit... well, imprudent. I mean, if the person visiting..."
"Ah, I understand what you mean, child."
Madam Flamel took Ares's hand, patting the back of it with her own hand, which was as wrinkled as tree bark. Her expression was benevolent.
"We only allow those who won't be seduced by money to enter for a tour... Ah, admittedly, there aren't many such people, but you are one of them."
"Is... is that so?"
Ares said, suppressing his heartache and trying hard to smile.
"You... really have confidence in me."
"I never misjudge a person," Madam Flamel said. She panted for a few breaths, then pulled on Ares's wrist.
"Come, child, come and look at these little toys Nicolas tinkered with himself."