Death Eaters and a teacher

He dragged the man into a corner and tied him up tight.

John took the man's wand and tossed it away somewhere, then headed to Montmorency Street.

As he looked around, a house that seemed steeped in history caught his attention.

It was surrounded by beautiful flower beds, yet everyone nearby seemed oblivious to it.

After a moment's thought, John decided to take a look.

He knocked on the door, but no one answered.

Just as John was wondering whether he should sneak inside, the tightly shut door suddenly opened.

A frail, trembling old man stood there, thin and silver-haired. His face lit up with delight when he saw John.

"You're finally here. Come in and have a cup of tea. I remember putting the tea leaves in the cupboard."

The old man opened the door to let John in as he spoke, muttering to himself like an elderly man with a failing memory.

"Please wait a moment. I still need to find the books."

John stepped inside and saw all sorts of things around him.

Many silver implements lay on the table. Some looked like tweezers, others like silver chopsticks.

John sat down inside. A nearby teapot hopped out on its own, and a tea caddy opened, sending tea leaves flying into it.

The teapot rocked its round body, and clear water appeared inside it out of thin air.

As the teapot swayed, the water and leaves inside transformed, producing a pot of freshly brewed black tea.

John watched in amazement. The teapot bore traces of alchemy all over it.

The old man seemed to be rummaging for something, setting books on the floor or the table one after another.

Then he bundled them all into a handbag.

Despite all the books packed inside, the handbag showed no change at all.

John knew that an Undetectable Extension Charm had been used on it.

Once the old man had finished everything, he stood there in satisfaction for a while before coming over.

"Sorry for the wait. These things have been sitting around for so long that sometimes I can't remember where I put them."

The old man held out his hand to shake John's. Seeing how frail and shaky he was, John touched it gently and carefully.

At the slightest touch, the old man's hand proved as brittle as a stale cookie, and he cried out in pain.

John was startled, afraid that he had used too much force.

"It's all right." Seeing John's worried expression, the old man said, "Hello, John Wick. My name is Nicolas Flamel."

Nicolas Flamel, whom John had been longing to meet, was standing right before him.

He did not look well. At least to John, his body seemed on the verge of falling apart.

"I should have taught you in person, but this year's events delayed me for quite some time. Still, my diary tells me you're very gifted."

Smiling, Nicolas Flamel handed John the handbag containing all the books.

He had crafted that diary himself. Not only did it contain a projection of the young Nicolas, it also allowed remote communication with Nicolas Flamel.

These books were Nicolas Flamel's gift to John, containing notes and insights he had recorded after attaining immortality.

John considered this for a moment, then asked, "Is it because of the Philosopher's Stone?"

He was no fool. Nicolas Flamel seemed to be giving his last instructions.

Judging by Dumbledore's mention of publicly announcing the Philosopher's Stone's destruction, Nicolas Flamel must have decided to end his immortal life.

Nicolas Flamel shook his head and smiled. "My boy, everyone dies. If you hadn't come along, the Philosopher's Stone would have been destroyed back in June."

He was indeed going to die. His remaining Elixir of Life was only enough to sustain him for this year.

This great legend of alchemy, who had lived for six hundred and sixty-five years, was bringing his long life to an end. Had John not appeared, he might never have considered taking on a student.

Through Dumbledore's introduction and the information relayed by the diary, he had come to believe that John was the ideal person to inherit his legacy.

John felt dejected. He had thought he had finally found a teacher who could guide him in alchemy, only to discover that their first meeting was already a farewell.

This was Nicolas Flamel's former home. He had originally intended to live in seclusion in Devon until his death.

As John accepted the handbag, his heart grew heavier.

"Teacher, who was that man outside?"

Remembering the man he had encountered that day, John voiced his question.

Nicolas Flamel smiled at being addressed that way. Though they had only just met, they felt like a teacher and student who had spent years together.

"He's a Death Eater. Even defeated, Voldemort is still looking for another chance to return."

Nicolas Flamel's expression grew grave at the mention of that name.

The old man had lived through the eras of two Dark Lords. He knew all too well that Voldemort's desire for immortality had become nothing short of pathological.

Even now, twelve years after his downfall, his followers were still searching for Nicolas Flamel, intent on resurrecting their master.

Nicolas Flamel had temporarily parted from his wife and returned to his former home to teach John.

John lived with his teacher for the remainder of his holiday.

He greedily absorbed knowledge of alchemy. The old man's vast learning was not confined to a single field; his understanding of runes, spells, and fantastic beasts could all be called masterful.

Day after day passed, and John soaked it all up like a sponge.

Nicolas Flamel was very pleased with his student. Alchemy required talent, along with a persistent, unfading desire to learn and explore.

John possessed both qualities. In this student, he saw a reflection of his younger self.

The same dedication to pursuing alchemy, the same thirst for knowledge.

The Philosopher's Stone in John's possession was destroyed.

With the only master in the world who had ever created a Philosopher's Stone beside him, John felt no regret over its loss.

As their time grew short, John knew it was time to say goodbye.

"John, you're the most gifted student I've ever seen."

Nicolas Flamel was leaving. He wanted to spend his final days with his wife.

Still, teaching a student like John had brought him great comfort and a sense of achievement. "Exploration along the Alchemy Path never ends. The Philosopher's Stone is not your destination, but your starting point."

He had already taught John how to create the Philosopher's Stone. Standing on the shoulders of a giant, John could naturally see farther, and Nicolas Flamel's hopes for him had grown greater as well.

Sadly, by the time John became a leading figure in a new generation of alchemists, Nicolas Flamel would be long gone.

John embraced his teacher, his movements gentle and full of reluctance to part.

Nicolas Flamel, however, took it in stride. He did not fear death. To him, it was like finally finding somewhere to lie down and sleep after working for a very long time.

With Nicolas Flamel's departure, John's travels in France were also drawing to a close.

John went to Beauxbatons and retrieved the diary.

Pheobe was very reluctant to see John go. He was one of her few friends.

"Pheobe, we'll meet again. Perhaps next time it won't be at Beauxbatons, but at Hogwarts."

John grinned. He remembered there seemed to be a part of the story where several schools competed against one another.

Beauxbatons was one of them.

It was entirely possible that Pheobe would appear as a Beauxbatons student.

He handed Pheobe a badge.

"Remember to write to me," Pheobe said reluctantly. "Your owl is getting a little fat. Make sure it gets more exercise."

Poor Basil had caught a stray insult for no reason.

John readily agreed. After they said their goodbyes, he went to the hidden area and wandered around the square until he finally found the drunk who had sold him the Portal.

After John left, the drunk was left hanging from a statue, his wand tossed into a filthy ditch.

"That's what you get for swindling me!"

John never let a slight go unpunished. The drunk had cheated him out of three Galleons, so John left him hanging there for three days.