[Ding, ding, ding! How dare a mere remnant soul claim to be the Savior! That filthy thing that is neither human nor ghost defies the natural order and wreaks havoc on all that is right. How can such an evil creature be allowed to live, sullying the very name of Savior? My lord, put aside your merciful heart and cast him into a land of filth for ten million years, to punish him for his insolence!]
[No reward limit. The reward will be determined by the degree of suffering endured, with settlements once a year.]
—Huh? You want to be the Savior?
—Hagrid! What's wrong with you now?
GOOGLE search TWKAN
—Did you really make the Dogskin Book that angry?
Harry's eyes glittered with excitement. This was the first time he'd seen a mission with no reward limit.
Ten million years... Wouldn't that mean leaving a [Horcrux] for Hagrid?
To keep him from kicking the bucket.
Would it be the [Resurrection Stone] at the bottom of the sea, the [Hufflepuff's Cup] on the moon, or the [Slytherin's Locket] in the Black family home, which he could get whenever he had a spare moment?
If he counted [Nagini], the living Horcrux that hadn't been created yet, and the [diary], which was destined to lose its Horcrux status, Voldemort had only these three Horcruxes left.
Still... he had to complete the double-yolked-egg mission to stop Nicolas Flamel from retiring.
Hogwarts Castle, Seventh Floor.
Harry stood before the dripping stone gargoyle, a little more at ease than he'd been a few hours earlier.
"Cockroach Cluster." x2
He and the radiant Gemma spoke in unison.
Hermione and Tonks, standing in the crowd, looked on enviously.
"Fred, George, put down the toilet seat! Don't put it over Percy's head!" Professor McGonagall called as she tried to keep order.
The stone guardian sprang aside, and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a stone spiral staircase that wound upward.
At the top stood an open oak door.
Smoke swirled inside like white clouds. Only when they drew closer did they realize it all came from an intricate silver instrument.
It was only palm-sized, U-shaped, with a long rectangular base.
In the circular room, the former headmasters' portraits on the domed ceiling and walls, the golden-red bird perched on a golden branch, and even Dumbledore all stared at it.
"You've come."
Dumbledore noticed them and lightly tapped the silver instrument with his wand.
Golden runes appeared across its surface. Then the smoke gathered into a gleaming white door, and a staircase stretched out toward them.
With the billowing mist, it gave Harry the impression of Tom Cat going to heaven.
"So... our destination is on the other side of the door?" Gemma's ice-blue eyes glimmered. She kept brushing the back of Harry's hand, seemingly without thinking.
"Yes. Just walk up and push it open." Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "Harry can explain the rest. I can only say that this is an unprecedented opportunity, one that most people in the world would covet."
"Nicolas Flamel. We're going to meet him." Harry glanced at Dumbledore. "Besides, speaking plainly is a virtue. A riddler would get beaten to death even outside Gotham."
"Come on." Harry took Gemma's hand. "We shouldn't keep an old man waiting."
As they pushed the door open, a powerful force pulled at them.
Harry felt a familiar magic take hold of him, and stopped resisting.
It was the [Shrinking Charm]. He felt himself visibly shrinking as space compressed into the shape of a funnel.
And they were heading for the other end of it.
"Where are we?" Gemma asked once they'd steadied themselves and could see again.
It felt as if she were standing on pebbles, but when she looked down, she saw irregular brown clumps of earth. Then a shadow flashed overhead.
A colossal creature. She caught sight of enormous compound eyes like stained-glass windows in a cathedral, and the gust of wind from its beating transparent wings.
"That's a dragonfly. We've been shrunk—smaller than Thumbelina," Harry said. He lowered his head, breathing in the rich smell of soil and the fragrance of grass. "Fascinating. Is this what soil looks like when you magnify it? I've never felt a texture like this."
"It's real!" Gemma noticed a forest. Its "trunks" were green, branching upward along blades of grass.
Ants the size of calves and beetles large enough to carry people scurried through it.
They stood beside a huge slab of black obsidian with a jagged face.
"Of course it's real."
A voice came from beneath the obsidian.
"Honestly, I'm not very fond of this door." With a grumble, the slab of obsidian was lifted aside, and a frail, white-haired old man emerged, looking as if a strong breeze might blow him apart. "The last one was much prettier, but a neighbor's child picked it up and put it in a fish tank."
"I still remember it. It was round and pale purple, with red spots shaped like maple leaves."
"You... live underground?" Gemma asked in astonishment, gripping Harry's hand even tighter.
"No one would guess that the greatest alchemist in the world lives in an ant nest," Nicolas Flamel said with a shrug, his tone a little self-mocking. "Even smaller than the ants. Come on in—Perenelle doesn't like entertaining those little calves with pincers."
Nicolas Flamel stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.
The entrance was a broad corridor sloping downward.
Thick grass roots were exposed along the walls and ceiling, alongside an unidentified moss that gave off a faint glow.
The air didn't smell earthy, but carried a refreshing, cool fragrance.
"I grew this moss and these roots myself," Nicolas Flamel said, walking briskly ahead to lead the way. "I'm quite good at Herbology, actually. I've cultivated quite a few new varieties, but Perenelle doesn't care for them, so I'm the only one who keeps them."
Harry noticed that the farther down they went, the livelier Nicolas Flamel became. The wrinkles and age spots on his skin faded, and his back gradually straightened.
By the time they reached the end of the corridor and the door made from half a giant acorn shell, Nicolas Flamel had become a middle-aged man.
The edges of the Acorn Shell Door had been sanded smooth. Several tiny, colorful quartz stones had been set into the shell as handles and decorations, gleaming softly in the mosslight.
"In my Alchemy Workshop, Death can't find us." Nicolas Flamel put his hand on the doorknob, then turned and grinned. "Of course, that doesn't let us escape Death. It merely keeps us out of sight."
"Death?" Harry asked curiously. "What do you mean?"
Nicolas didn't answer right away. He simply gave the door a gentle push.
The Acorn Shell Door swung open silently, and warm, bright light poured out, carrying the rich scents of herbs, baked goods, and old paper.
"A mechanism." Nicolas's silhouette stood out sharply in the warm glow.
Harry saw a strand of shifting rainbow-colored steam rising from the cauldron in the center of the room. Liquid gold and silver flowed slowly through crystal tubes in the walls, like streams of life.
"Just as human emotions can give rise to [Non-Existence], what about all the souls that have died throughout history?"
"They gave rise to Death itself." His gaze swept over the precise alchemical instruments before settling on the fluffy Thistle Down Cushion in the corner. His tone was calm, like that of a researcher.
"It isn't some specific living being holding a scythe. It's more like... a rule created by collective agreement. Something like the shared understanding that birds fly and fish swim."
He shrugged slightly. "Of course, that's just my personal speculation."
"Albus and the child from the Grindelwald family have different opinions."
Before you continue