Dumbledore Understands
The morning sun filtered softly into the Headmaster's office when Fawkes reappeared in a swirl of flame, a letter clasped gently in his talons.
Dumbledore looked up at once.
"Oh?" he murmured, standing.
Fawkes placed the letter neatly on the desk and chirped—a sound that carried unmistakable excitement.
Dumbledore opened it.
He read silently.
Then paused.
Then smiled.
And finally—sighed.
"…So," he said quietly, adjusting his glasses,
"it has reached that stage."
The tone of Nicolas Flamel's words was unmistakable.
Not polite curiosity.
Not academic interest.
This was recognition.
The kind one master felt upon discovering a successor.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
"For Nicolas to write directly…" he mused,
"…this is no longer about answering questions."
He chuckled softly.
"Lucien Aurelius Peverell Lionhardt," he said aloud,
"you truly are troublesome."
But his eyes were warm.
At the Flamels' Home
Back in France, Perenelle Flamel was already moving around the house with purpose.
She reorganized shelves.
Cleared a guest room.
Placed fresh flowers by the window.
Nicolas watched from his chair, amused.
"You are planning far ahead," he said.
Perenelle turned, hands on her hips.
"Nonsense," she replied firmly.
"A child like that deserves proper care."
She smiled—soft, motherly, and dangerous.
"He carries too much responsibility already.
Someone must remind him that he is still a child."
Nicolas laughed quietly.
"You intend to spoil him."
"Of course," she said proudly.
"I will feed him, fuss over him, and make sure he sleeps properly."
She paused.
"…And if he calls me grandmother, I will not object."
Nicolas laughed even harder.
Nicolas Writes to Lucien
Later that evening, Nicolas sat at his desk, quill in hand.
He wrote slowly, carefully—choosing each word with intention.
Not as a superior.
Not as a legend.
But as a fellow alchemist.
The Letter
To Lucien Aurelius Peverell Lionhardt,
I have read your observations.
They are not merely clever.
They are honest, thoughtful, and rare.
Alchemy does not advance through answers, but through the courage to ask the right questions. You possess that courage.
If you are willing, I would like to speak with you directly.
Not as a teacher commanding a student—
but as one alchemist meeting another.
Should you ever wish to visit, my home will welcome you.
Nicolas Flamel
Address enclosed
Nicolas sealed the letter, then added a second, shorter note for Dumbledore.
Albus,
This one is special.
Please give him the choice.
—N.F.
Perenelle leaned over his shoulder, reading.
She smiled warmly.
"I will bake something," she declared.
"Children should never arrive to an empty table."
Back at Hogwarts
Dumbledore folded the letter carefully and placed it in his robes.
He looked toward the window, where the castle grounds stretched peacefully.
"An invitation from Nicolas Flamel," he murmured.
"And affection from Perenelle."
He chuckled.
"Lucien, my boy… you have just caught the attention of legends."
And this time—
It wasn't for power.
It wasn't for prophecy.
It was because of who he was.