I've Been Waiting My Whole Life for an Opportunity Like This

Melba flapped its wings and stood on the back of the chair, craning its neck to look at the letter.

"My dear Miss Granger"

"It's been a long time since I last sent my greetings..."

Upon seeing this, Melba rolled her eyes dramatically.

You used to send me a letter every day, what kind of long-neglect is this?

When will we owls be able to stand up?!

When will the wizarding tyranny be overthrown?

Sensing Melba's resentful gaze, Silan dismissed it and continued writing her letter.

"My dear Miss Granger"

Long time no see, hope you're doing well.

Headmaster Dumbledore has taken me to Nicolas Flamel's house. Professor Nicolas Flamel is undoubtedly a wise man, and I am incredibly excited to be able to learn Alchemy from him this week.

But amidst the joy, I also felt a little sad.

Paris is too far from England.

This made sending letters take much longer, and consequently, the wait for a reply was even longer. Logically, waiting for your reply with anticipation should be a pleasant experience, but perhaps because I cared too much about it, it made me feel somewhat tormented.

You wrote to me last time asking for my notes to review Potions. I've made a copy and am sending it with this letter. I hope it will be helpful...

After writing down what he wanted to say, Silan put down his quill and, while waiting for the ink to dry, read it over to himself.

Upon reaching the end, he picked up his quill pen and added a sentence.

"Miss you."

"Written by Silan Prewett."

After writing his signature and sealing the letter with wax with his own seal, Silan prepared to have Melba deliver the letter.

As a result, the seasoned owl stood to the side, head drooping, sighing deeply.

"My life is so hard, so very hard."

"Master, my head hurts so much."

"Stop pretending to be sick."

Silan tied a ribbon to the letter's leg so it could rest during long-distance deliveries.

"I have a few bottles of Owl Supplement here. I'll go deliver the message after I finish them," Silan said.

Although supplements are more nourishing, owls actually prefer to eat large rats. Unfortunately, Nicolas Flamel had experienced the Black Death and was terrified of rats.

It's impossible to find mice in his house.

Silan reminded him, "Remember to bring back Miss Granger's reply."

Nicolas Flamel's residence was under a spell; letters could not be delivered except by the owls of some old friends.

Hermione can only reply through Melba.

Melba the owl still looked dejected, his head tucked in, sighing deeply.

Tsk, you're really pushing your luck.

Silan curled her lip, suddenly reached out and covered its head, whispering threateningly, "If you don't listen to reason, I don't mind using some methods on you."

"How about we put you in the box and let you play with Norbert?"

Melba stiffened, blinked somewhat obsequiously, and rubbed his head against Silan's palm.

"Don't get agitated, Master."

"You know me well. I, this owl, love delivering mail the most. I feel itchy all over if I don't deliver mail for a day, especially when it comes to delivering long-distance international letters."

"Flying over 200 miles at a time, that's what you call delivering a message."

Melba stood at attention, his gaze resolute. "Delivering messages for my great master is a mission I was born with, and I have been waiting for this opportunity my whole life."

"I'm going, Master!"

Under Silan's coercion and enticement, Melba flapped her wings and flew out of the window with a strong sense of mission.

Having dismissed the old owl, Silan prepared to visit Nicolas Flamel's library.

Stepping out of the room, Silan glanced downstairs.

The furnishings below have been completely changed.

Nicolas Flamel sat comfortably on a large sofa, all the other tables and chairs gone. In front of him was a small opera stage, where a classical opera was being performed.

It looks like Shakespeare's Hamlet; the elaborately dressed actors are reciting their lines.

"To be or not to be, that is the question."

Is this also an alchemical tool?

Silan found it strange. The small stage in front of Nicolas Flamel didn't have any real actors, but rather some ghostly figures, which looked more like a projection.

Noticing the commotion upstairs, the actors on the small stage suddenly stopped performing, Nicolas Flamel looked up and asked, "Oh, child, would you like to come and watch with us?"

"This is the most exciting performance I can remember, and I often revisit this memory."

"Professor Nicolas Flamel, is this an alchemical tool you made? It has a similar effect to the Pensieve?" Silan asked.

"That's right," Nicolas Flamel explained, "This small stage has the same effect as the Pensieve."

"I've stored all the operas I've ever watched in it, and I've also enhanced the playback experience so I can easily revisit them anytime."

To put it simply, it's a television that combines CD burning and playback.

Silan couldn't help but marvel: Alchemy really know how to use advanced technology; it's almost on par with modern technology.

However, he had little interest in opera, so he declined Nicolas Flamel's invitation and went into the library.

Although it was called a library, when Silan pushed open the door, she found herself almost stepping into another world.

The towering bookshelves, like giant trees, stretched all the way to the roof, and the ceiling was a giant dome with a huge sphere of light in the center illuminating the entire room.

The room stretched as far as the eye could see, and it contained tens of thousands of books.

If Silan hadn't been certain he'd entered Nicolas Flamel's house, he would have thought he'd walked into a national museum.

Directly opposite the entrance is a low counter, on which sits a House-elf wearing glasses.

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"

Upon seeing Silan enter, the House-elf immediately jumped off the chair, ran to him, and bowed respectfully.

This House-elf wore a white robe and had a strong scholarly air about him; his demeanor was also quite different from that of ordinary House-elf.

It also possesses a calm and composed demeanor.

"What should I call you?" Silan asked.

"Books, sir, is the master's servant and also the caretaker here."

Books?

The name is quite fitting.

"Hello, Books."

"You're too kind, sir," Books said with a smile. "If you don't mind, I can show you around this library."

Books picked up the Broomstick that was provided by the door and led the way for Silan.

They flew through one tall bookshelf after another, and after quite a while, they still hadn't reached the end.