Few wizards could do it, but there were still some who could.
Grindelwald was one of them.
She made it sound effortless.
A little smug, too.
Ian looked at her speechlessly, then continued searching.
This time, the haul was even more astonishing.
Phoenix tail feathers—three feathers from a phoenix king. Check.
Dragon's tears—a whole vat. Check.
Basilisk fangs—eight intact ones. Check.
Philosopher's Stone fragments—Grindelwald dragged a box out from the corner and opened it, revealing twenty thumb-sized fragments of the Philosopher's Stone. Every piece emitted a gentle golden glow.
Ian's eyes went wide. "Th-this is impossible! Did Nicolas Flamel give these to you too?"
Grindelwald shook her head, a hint of pride curling her lips. "I made them myself. They aren't complete Philosopher's Stones, but fragments... I can still produce a few."
Ian fell silent for a few seconds, then sincerely gave her a thumbs-up. "You're ruthless."
Finally, the Sands of Time.
Grindelwald led the two of them to the deepest corner of the vault. There stood a crystal box wrapped in countless layers of protective spells. She undid the spells and opened the box.
Inside was a small pinch of silvery-white sand, more than five times as much as Dumbledore's.
"Is it enough?" Grindelwald asked.
Ian took one look and shook his head. "Still a little short."
Grindelwald frowned. "Still short? This is all I have."
Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking. "It seems we can only go find him."
Grindelwald looked at him, a complicated glint flashing through her mismatched eyes. "Nicolas Flamel?"
Dumbledore nodded. "In this world, if there's anyone who can gather all these materials, it's him."
He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting into a meaningful smile.
"And he owes me a favor."
By the time they emerged from Gringotts,