Nicolas Flamel's words made Gerald pause.
Right! The oil paintings at Hogwarts, the former headmasters in the Headmaster's Office-they really did seem alive.
They could converse, react to what others said, and even remember each year's new young witches and wizards.
Perhaps because of his preconceptions, he had grown so used to seeing such scenes in the films that he had overlooked these alchemical devices.
The figures in these portraits clearly did not truly possess souls, but their behavior came infinitely close to that of beings with independent consciousness.
How did that work?
Watching Gerald's expression, Nicolas Flamel guessed that questions had arisen in his mind as well.
"Are you puzzled? Today, I'm going to explain exactly how this kind of alchemical device works. But even if you understand the principles, you probably won't master it without decades of study. In fact, no more than five alchemists in the entire European wizarding world can successfully create portraits like these. And as far as I know, your alchemy professor at Hogwarts, Ackerman Shacklebolt, has that ability."
"I don't even have to ask-you can do it too, can't you, Professor?"
"Hmph, isn't that obvious? I painted that portrait of Dilys Derwent in the Hogwarts Headmaster's Office. What I mean is that while you're at Hogwarts, you can consult Professor Shacklebolt more often, as well as me."
"Understood!"
"Then let's continue with these magical portraits. Their underlying principle is actually very similar to that of your Q&A Notebook: both store large amounts of information in advance, then retrieve it when needed through specific rune mechanisms. But magical portraits require much more complex runes. I'll only cover the most important parts.
"The main reason magical portraits possess something close to the ability to think is the power of the fifth element, aether. We can