France.
Nicolas Flamel had an old house in Paris, the place where he and his wife Perenelle had lived the longest. They had spent roughly three hundred years here together.
Most of the books Nicolas had collected over the centuries were also kept here, arranged in a library as tall as a tower. Looking up from the bottom now, one could not even see the ceiling.
Tens of thousands of books and handwritten notes rested quietly here. Only when guests who enjoyed reading occasionally came by would Tata the House-elf take them down from the shelves.
Today, however, that silence was broken.
"Bang!"
Accompanied by a dull impact, someone appeared out of thin air in the middle of the library, then slammed hard into a bookshelf.
Kyle did not even have the strength to stand. He lay limply on the library floor, looking as though he might pass out at any moment.
Honestly, he had not expected Firestorm to be so powerful just now. It felt as though it had gouged a hole through him. To control that Fiendfyre, he had nearly drained every last bit of his strength.
Luckily, he had run. If he had stayed there in his current condition, he would probably have had no choice but to wait for death. Of course, if he had not had a backup plan, he would not have dared pour all his magic into a single spell.
Voldemort was probably stomping mad by now. Kyle had seen half of the other man's face turn black just now, though he did not know whether it was from anger or from being burned.
Either way, it made him happy.
Just as he was thinking that, Kyle felt something soft and furry against his palm.
Turning his head, he saw that the Niffler