The Next Day – Headmaster's Office
The gargoyle barely finished moving before Lucien stepped into the Headmaster's office.
"Good morning, Professor," Lucien greeted calmly.
Dumbledore looked up, smiling in a way that suggested something important.
"Good morning, Lucien," he replied.
"Please, have a seat."
Lucien did—quiet, composed, Vulpix hopping onto his lap as if this were routine.
Dumbledore studied him for a moment.
Then he took out a sealed letter.
"This," Dumbledore said gently, placing it on the desk,
"is for you."
Lucien blinked once.
Then picked it up.
Lucien Reads the Letter
He read carefully.
Slowly.
Not a single flicker of greed.
Not excitement.
Not pride.
Only… thoughtfulness.
"…Nicolas Flamel," Lucien murmured.
Dumbledore watched closely.
Most students would have gasped.
Some would have panicked.
Others would have boasted.
Lucien merely tilted his head.
"He wants to talk," Lucien said.
"As equals."
Dumbledore's smile widened.
"Yes," he replied.
"And that, Lucien, is why I wanted to see your reaction."
Lucien looked up.
"Professor," he said honestly,
"I'm… a little confused."
Dumbledore chuckled.
"That is a good sign."
Lucien continued calmly,
"I asked questions because I didn't know the answers.
I didn't expect…"
he paused, searching for the word,
"…this."
Dumbledore leaned back.
"Nicolas Flamel does not invite lightly," he said.
"If he reached out, it means he sees potential—not obligation."
Lucien nodded.
"I understand," he replied.
"I'd like to respond."
Dumbledore's eyes softened.
"I thought you might."
Far Away – Perenelle Flamel
In France, Perenelle Flamel was already busy.
She carefully wrapped small packages.
A charm-stitched scarf that adjusted to temperature.
A protective talisman "just in case."
Several jars of homemade sweets.
And a handwritten note that simply said:
"Eat properly."
Nicolas watched, amused.
"You are preparing for a siege," he said.
Perenelle sniffed.
"I am preparing for a child who carries the weight of three worlds," she replied.
"And he will not arrive hungry."
Lucien's Reply
Back in Hogwarts, Lucien sat at his desk that evening, quill steady.
He wrote neatly.
Not formally.
Not casually.
But sincerely.
Lucien's Letter
To Nicolas Flamel,
Thank you for reading my observations.
I asked those questions because I felt something was missing, not because I believed myself knowledgeable.
If you are willing to speak with me, I would be honored to listen and learn.
I do not know if I deserve the expectations you place upon me, but I promise to be honest in my pursuit of alchemy.
—Lucien Aurelius Peverell Lionhardt
He sealed the letter.
Then stood.
Sending the Letter
Lucien opened a small spatial gate.
A familiar orange shape appeared, humming cheerfully.
"Dragonite," Lucien said softly.
She chirped happily.
Lucien attached the letter carefully to her satchel and whispered the address.
"France. Nicolas Flamel."
Dragonite nodded once—serious now.
With a gentle flap of wings, she vanished into the sky.
Lucien watched until the window was empty.
"…That should do it," he murmured.
Vulpix curled up tighter in his lap.
Lucien leaned back, calm as ever.
He had just written to a legend.
And treated it like a normal conversation.