Regarding the Sun and the World, No Comment

"Are you really not going to have dinner here?" Loren asked the air, his tone full of regret.

Before he could finish speaking, he teleported away. It must be because of what happened at Hogwarts School, Dumbledore was in a hurry to get back to deal with the Ministry of Magic's inspection.

Hopefully, the Ministry of Magic won't raid the Potions Master's office. Otherwise, based on the various Magical Creatures specimens in the storage room, his beloved Snape should at least be sentenced to life imprisonment under the newly enacted Magical Creatures Protection Act.

With that thought in mind, Loren stepped back into the house and closed the door to the backyard. Bates, fast asleep on the sofa, emitted soft, soothing snores that echoed throughout the living room.

Loren paused to think for a moment, but ultimately didn't wake him. Instead, he dragged a thin blanket over him. Loren ate some milk, bread, and luncheon meat for dinner.

On a summer night in Paris, the Seine River meanders through the city, its lights reflected on the water, shimmering like shooting stars in the Milky Way.

A couple with gray hair and frail limbs, showing signs of old age, walked slowly along the Seine River, supporting each other. In the pocket of their silver-white clothes, a corner of the Paris Opera House ticket stub peeked out.

Tonight's performance is "Faust".

A boy in a patched-up t-shirt followed the elderly couple. He had run away from home with dreams of becoming an opera singer, but ended up reselling leftover tickets outside the opera house. Now he was working hard towards his dream.

He chattered on and on, asking, "Hey, what exactly are your identities? The ticket agent wouldn't tell me, and the actors I know didn't know either. But you can get into the VIP boxes without tickets, and you're not like those people who have chauffeured cars everywhere. What connections do you have? Tell me!"

Two elderly people lingered at the theater entrance before the opera started. The young man, feeling sorry for them, decided not to sell the few remaining tickets and instead offered to give them to the two elderly people for free.

As it turned out, the two of them didn't use his ticket at all, and even dragged him in with them. The boy could only follow behind them in a daze.

The theater staff, who used to look down on him, now led them respectfully into the luxurious box. He was still a little dazed after listening to the entire opera.

In any case, these two will definitely be able to put in a good word for him with the theater.

A frail old man dressed in silver-white clothes moved slowly, smelling the aroma of coffee on the street, and occasionally glancing down at the lights on the river.

It's too strenuous for him to lift his head; he could easily break his neck or cervical spine.

The old man said slowly, "Don't follow us. We are just two ordinary old people."

The boy was not giving up and wanted to try again. "Please, could you write me a letter of recommendation? I'll reserve two front-row tickets for you at every game from now on."

The old man in the silver-white clothes laughed and said, "I can't possibly listen to all of these performances. I'm already very old."

"Please, please! The person you help will one day star in a play as great as Faust," the boy pleaded.

The old woman beside him, who had been wearing a gentle smile, smiled even more broadly. It was impossible to tell whether she was laughing at the young man's overestimation of his abilities or simply admiring the beauty of such a pure dream.

"Tell me, what is the story of Faust?" the old man asked gently.

The boy perked up immediately, thinking this was a test for him. "Faust was a learned scholar in the 15th century who thirsted for the mysteries of the universe and life. He spent half his life studying and mastering all kinds of knowledge, including philosophy, law, medicine, theology, and even the most mysterious Alchemy."

"When he was very old, he felt deeply trapped in his body."

At this point, the young man paused, looked at the two elderly people, and continued, "So he made a deal with the devil, drinking a potion that would grant him eternal youth..."

The two elderly people moved slowly as the boy recounted the contents of "Faust" in detail.

"... Faust realized the truth, and God used the fire of love to defeat the devil. Heaven saved Faust, and the story ends." The boy smacked his lips, seemingly still wanting more. He felt that some subjective commentary should be added.

The old man looked at the ever-flowing Seine River and asked, "What can you learn from this?"

The boy's eyes lit up; he was just about to share his own thoughts. "Faust's character design possesses the typical contradictions found in medieval scholar figures..."

The elderly couple stopped at an open-air café on the side of the street, sat down at a small table by the river, and ordered three cups of coffee.

During his youth, he constantly tried to impress these two elderly men of extraordinary status, "... even with eternal youth, the chasm of desire was still hard to satisfy."

He glanced discreetly at the two elderly people who were sipping their coffee and began to add his own personal opinion, "Every day we live, we should strive to pursue our dreams and freedom; that is true liberation."

The old man felt the coffee was at the right temperature, picked it up, took a small sip, and asked, "Is eternal life important?"

The boy chuckled and said, "It would be a lie to say it's not important. If I could choose immortality, I definitely wouldn't refuse."

He'd talked so much the whole way, and he was thirsty. He picked up his coffee cup and gulped it down in two big gulps, then suddenly seemed to have a change of heart and decided he didn't need any recommendation letters anymore.

The young man put down his cup and let out a hearty sigh, "Don't talk about me. Just like you two, at your age, don't you long to live a few more decades and hear a few more performances of Faust?"

The elderly couple laughed upon hearing this. The old man, dressed in silver-white clothes and with silver-white hair, asked, "What would you think if I said that I have a very close relationship with Faust?"

The boy savored the bitterness on his tongue, thinking the two were just teasing him, and jokingly retorted, "Are you close to Goethe, the author of ' Faust,' or the composer Gounod?"

The prototype of Faust was a 15th-century person. Goethe began composing this masterpiece in 1768, Charlie Gounod arranged the music for the opera, and it did not premiere in Paris until 1859. More than a hundred years have passed since then, so how close can we be?

The old man didn't answer the question; instead, he talked to the boy about his interpretation of "Faust," its background, and the social trends it touched upon.

The boy stopped asking for recommendation letters and listened quietly, occasionally offering his own opinions.

Only after the old woman finished her coffee did the old man in the silver-white clothes stand up and say to the child in front of him with a smile, "I did spend some time with Goethe, but the story I told him was not like this, nor was the first draft he showed me."

Seemingly remembering something, the old man looked at his wife and asked suspiciously, "Did you say something to Goethe that made him change Faust to what it is now?"

The old woman shook her head without speaking, her face still bearing a gentle smile.

Unable to find an answer, the old man looked at the boy and continued, "More than two hundred years ago, I lived in Germany and met Goethe. I told him about my journey around the world to refine the Sorcerer's Stone and the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. I don't know how much of it he remembered, but he wrote Faust like this."

"However!" The silver-haired old man looked at the boy and said gently but firmly.

"It is entirely fair to say that I am Faust."

The boy's eyes widened, stunned by these words.

After saying that, the elderly couple vanished instantly, leaving only the still-warm coffee cup on the table and a letter of recommendation underneath, proving that such two people had indeed been there.

An old man with a long white beard, dressed in a white robe with embroidered curls on the collar and cuffs, crossed the English Channel.

It was already 1992, and crossing the English Channel was very easy; whether by ferry, train, or plane, the transportation from London to Paris was very convenient.

But this time when he went to sea, he dragged his body without stopping for a moment and used Apparition continuously.

Apparition, a commonly used spatial displacement spell, is well-suited for short-distance travel. However, excessively long teleportation distances increase the stress on the body, posing a risk of Splinching or even being crushed. Therefore, wizards typically use Portkey for journeys across borders.

But the old man felt that returning to Hogwarts Castle to retrieve the Portkey would be slower than traveling the way he was now.

The old man raised his aged face, gazed in the direction of Paris, and sighed, "Nicol, are you really not going to leave a single word behind?"

The route along London St Pancras Station leads all the way to Dover, a 120-kilometer journey, flashing continuously without stopping.

Then, he sailed out to sea from the port, crossing the English Channel. Each time he flashed onto the surface of the water, gravity didn't have time to pull him back into the sea before he flashed away again. Not a single drop of water even touched the hem of his white clothes.

In less than half a minute, they sailed from the port of Dover Calais the port of Calais in northern France. This astonishing speed would have surprised both Muggle and wizards, but it was too fast for anyone to see.

This is Albus Dumbledore, the current Chief of Wizengamot.

An elderly couple with silver-white hair and gaunt, aged faces appeared outside the magnificent manor Castle and slowly stepped inside.

After creating the Sorcerer's Stone, he easily smelted gold from mercury and sodium, a feat known as the Midas touch. He used this gold to buy the manor.

Like Faust, he possessed an endless lifespan, determined to explore the mysteries and truths of the universe and humanity, to learn all the world's knowledge, and to enjoy all the world's pleasures. The manor was built with unparalleled luxury.

Travel the world, seeking out renowned Alchemy to exchange ideas and learn from. Befriend outstanding Muggle figures, bringing with you the wisdom and knowledge accumulated over countless years, inspiring them, and experiencing a near-creator's feeling.

He used Alchemy to transform this place into the exquisite and profound place he envisioned. But he didn't stay here permanently; the outside world held far greater appeal for him than the manor.

The more one enjoys the benefits of a long life, the more one cherishes this broken and aging body, daring not to do anything out of line or damage it in the slightest.

It wasn't until decades ago, when a Muggle, or Muggle, found him, that he suddenly realized he had escaped the prison of life and found himself.

Nicolas Flamel shakily took Perenelle's arm and said with a smile, "It's a good thing you've always been by my side, otherwise I probably wouldn't be alive today."

Perenelle was also old and her body trembled, but the smile on her face was still warm, "Isn't it a waste to use a manor that has been built and refined all my life to make a stone coffin?"

Nicolas Flamel gradually straightened his back, no longer caring whether his aging bones could bear the strain. This movement took a lot of effort; his speech became slurred, and he had to pause after uttering just a few words.

"I... I've matured... become more composed. After more than six... six hundred years, I'm going to be willful for once..."

Perenelle simply smiled gently. Although he didn't greet anyone, not even Dumbledore's or Beauxbatons ' men, he had arranged everything before leaving, and the manor was now just an empty shell. This was hardly capricious.

The two elderly people walked laboriously to the gate of the manor, turned around, faced outwards, and leaned against the gate.

A crystalline light gradually emerged from the walls of the entire manor, and the cracks in the brick walls were filled with Rune runes and the base of magic arrays. The doors, windows, walls, and roof began to fluctuate and change, gradually collapsing and tightening, transforming into a stone coffin.

Nicolas Flamel then finished his last sentence. "What's wrong?"

After saying this, the two elderly people gently closed their eyes.

Dumbledore had just arrived in Paris, looked up abruptly. Just moments ago, he had suddenly forgotten where Nicol's manor was.

He gazed at the brightly lit city before him, at the Seine River flowing by, where the Starry River and lights reflected each other, carrying the city's laughter and joy, and sighed softly.

The Fidelius Charm used by wizards who conceal secrets. The wizard who hides a secret is called the Secret Keeper. If the Secret Keeper chooses not to reveal the secret to anyone, the secret will remain forever once the Secret Keeper dies.

In the deep blue night sky, stars twinkled, and dark houses were shrouded in shadow. Warm and bright yellow lights shone on the cobblestone square outside, and orange-yellow lights illuminated the tarpaulins outside the cafe.

The space flickered softly, Dumbledore appeared under a tree next to an open-air café, having followed some kind of magical fluctuation.

In the corner of a simple table and chairs, a dazed boy sat holding a letter with messy handwriting.

The instant Dumbledore stared at the letter, a silvery-white light, invisible to Muggle, shot up and hurtled straight at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore neither dodged nor flinched, letting the silver beam of light crash into him, shattering into countless tiny flashes in front of him.

Nicolas Flamel's voice rang out. "Tell Loren for me that I have nothing to say about the sun and the world."

As the light faded, Dumbledore repeated, "No comment on the sun and the world..."

Accompanied by the orchestra, a deep, resonant male voice rose from the gramophone in the café:

He was ambitious and always had his sights set on distant horizons.

He also half realized his own arrogance.

He wanted to claim the most beautiful stars in the sky.

It also demands extreme debauchery on earth.

I can say this moment

You are so beautiful, please stop.

The traces I left in my lifetime

It will endure for thousands of years without fading into obscurity.

Now I have a sublime sense of happiness.

Enjoy this supreme moment

I don't know if those who haven't read Faust will have any reading difficulties, but I feel I've tried my best to explain the content of Faust clearly.

And!! Nicol really, really, really has a connection with Faust.

There are original versions of the opera on Airbnb.

Finally, I bow down to the readers who have enabled automatic subscription. I will try my best to write more chapters to prevent this kind of writer's block from happening again.

(Whispering) The word count is based on the first post, so readers won't lose out.