Nicolas Flamel lived in an old stone house on Rue Montmorency in Paris, France.
He spent most of his life here after he Vanishing Act from the public eye.
Suddenly, a writhing black shadow appeared in the open space outside the house. In the blink of an eye, the shadow grew larger, Dumbledore's tall figure appeared.
Since Muggle-Repelling Charm had been cast here, he didn't need to worry about being seen.
Dumbledore didn't rush to knock on the door. Instead, he stood outside, gazing at the old house for a long time, popped two candies into his mouth, and quickly crushed them with his teeth.
The sweet stimulation suppressed the turbulent emotions in his heart and blocked out certain hidden memories.
The last visit that left a deep impression on him was in 1927, when he brought Newt here for refuge.
Grindelwald was still around at that time.
After straightening his clothes, Dumbledore used the opportunity to distract himself and banish those chaotic thoughts from his mind.
He walked to the door in a few steps and knocked gently.
Who is it?
An old, drawn-out voice came from behind the door, like a soft, melodious string melody.
"An old acquaintance of yours."
"Oh, Albus, you've come."
The old voice approached shakily, slowly but steadily, and by the end, he had reached the door and opened it.
Nicolas Flamel wore a white robe, his skin appearing an unusual white, while his hair and beard were almost silver-white.
His aged skin was loose and wrinkled, and his movements were deliberately small and slow, making him appear somewhat weak.
But his eyes were unusually bright and calm.
More than six hundred years have passed since he was born, smoothing out his rough edges and sculpting him into an exceptionally serene figure.
"Hello, Albus," Nicolas Flamel extended his hand to Dumbledore. "I thought you'd be a few days later."
"Hello, Nicolas Flamel. The students are all preparing for their final exams, and the professors are busy setting questions. I'm the most idle person in all of Hogwarts."
Dumbledore smiled merrily, reached out and gently placed his hand on Nicolas Flamel's, tapping his palm with his finger as a handshake.
The Philosopher's Stone could indeed grant immortality, but Nicolas Flamel was already quite old and frail when he drank the Elixir of Life.
Dumbledore worried that he might break Nicolas Flamel's hand if he exerted too much force.
"Come in, Albus," Nicolas Flamel invited Dumbledore into the house, then slowly walked back inside with small, quick steps.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two got down to business.
"I've come to deliver the Philosopher's Stone to you." Dumbledore placed the brightly colored Philosopher's Stone on the table in front of him. "Thank you, Nicolas Flamel, you've been a great help."
"I hope the little guy is alright." Nicolas Flamel didn't look at the Philosopher's Stone, but said with a worried expression, "Your method was still too risky, for a child like that..."
"Sorry, Nicolas Flamel, I know."
Dumbledore looked at the Philosopher's Stone, a helpless expression on his face. "But the time left for young people to grow up is just as limited as the time left for old people to live."
"Voldemort will not let this go; we must prepare in advance."
"It's a pity we can't fight alongside you anymore, Albus." A gentle, elderly female voice came from the stairs.
Nicolas Flamel's wife Perenelle Flamel Flamel, gripped the stair railing and looked at Dumbledore.
She was an elderly witch with silver-white hair just like Nicolas Flamel's.
Perhaps because they had lived together for so long, Perenelle Flamel and Nicolas Flamel had a similar temperament, both possessing a calmness that transcended the years.
"Greetings, Madam." Dumbledore rose and bowed slightly to her in greeting.
Whether as the wife of an old friend or as an independent witch, Perenelle Flamel was a respectable person.
"You've already helped me so much," Dumbledore said, then suddenly changed the subject. "Of course, if you were willing to teach at Hogwarts, that would be an immense favor."
Perenelle Flamel brought over a pot of Black Tea, poured a cup for each of them, and said with a smile, "Hogwarts has so many excellent professors because you've been searching for them everywhere."
"Thank you for the invitation, Albus." Nicolas Flamel picked up his Black Tea, blew on it to cool it down, and slowly took a sip. "If you had come 300 years earlier, I might have accepted. My body is already beyond repair."
"I wasn't even born 300 years ago," Dumbledore thought.
However, he knew from the beginning that Nicolas Flamel probably wouldn't agree, so asking now was just a last-ditch effort.
It is truly a sad thing to part with such an old friend forever.
He just instinctively wanted to stop him.
The three sat down around a small round table, the aroma of Black Tea spreading around them with the steam.
"Please be sure to tell me the day you decide to go to bed," Dumbledore sighed.
"Albus." Nicolas Flamel nodded to him, then looked at the Philosopher's Stone and asked with interest, "Could you tell me about the Philosopher's Stone?"
Perenelle Flamel slowly set down his teacup, his gaze fixed intently on Dumbledore.
She was clearly interested in this as well.
"Alright, of course." Dumbledore a sip of his Black Tea and said slowly, "To be honest, this whole affair has been quite interesting..."
Dumbledore talked about Quirrell and Harry, and then turned the conversation to Silan riding a dragon to rescue Harry.
When Dumbledore said he was also startled when he saw Silan riding a dragon to rescue Harry, both Nicolas Flamel and Perenelle Flamel revealed faint smiles.
"What an incredible little fellow." Nicolas Flamel's wrinkles smoothed out as he smiled. "Thank you, Albus, for letting us hear such amusing stories before we die."
Unlike Dumbledore, Nicolas Flamel used the word "death" without any hesitation.
"Prewett ...ah...that's a familiar surname."
"Do you remember them? Do you recall Fabian and Gideon?" Dumbledore asked.
"Of course, I remember. They're both members of the Order of the Phoenix. Fabian and Gideon both have the surname Prewett, could it be...?"
Before Nicolas Flamel could finish speaking, Dumbledore nodded. "Silan is Fabian's son."
"Fabian's child is in Slytherin?" Nicolas Flamel laughed. "That's interesting."
"He's a... quite an interesting kid, but he needs some guidance." Thinking of Silan's many qualities, Dumbledore couldn't find the right words to describe him.
"Children always need guidance," Nicolas Flamel nodded, his silver-white hair swaying. "It's a good thing he can be at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore's expression was somewhat strange.
After all, Tom Riddle was also at Hogwarts back then.
"You just said this child is very interested in Alchemy?" Nicolas Flamel, an Alchemy, asked with great interest.
"Of course, as far as I know, he is also very talented."
Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle, thinking of the Spell-Checking Quill that had recently become all the rage at the school.
"That's a good thing," Nicolas Flamel remarked. "Alchemy is a difficult and narrow path, and it needs more capable people to explore it."
Dumbledore suddenly said, half-jokingly, "Would you like to meet this child... or perhaps give him some pointers on Alchemy?"
"When I told him you were planning to destroy the Philosopher's Stone, this child was very sorry for you."
These words silenced Nicolas Flamel.
As an Alchemy, he naturally hoped that his skills could be passed down.
Perenelle Flamel clearly sensed Nicolas Flamel's thoughts, and she gently took her husband's hand. "It might not be a bad thing for us to see this child before we die."
"Anyway, we were going to spend time making arrangements for what happens after we're gone."
Nicolas Flamel nodded and said to Dumbledore, "Perhaps the boy will have time to come see me during the summer vacation?"
"I'll go ask him," Dumbledore said.