The Flamel Laboratory – Where Legends Get Evaluated
After lunch, Nicolas Flamel led Lucien down a narrow staircase hidden behind a rotating bookshelf.
The air changed instantly.
Warm. Metallic. Old.
Lucien's eyes widened—not in shock, but appreciation.
Shelves upon shelves of alchemy grimoires, many sealed with seals so ancient even Hogwarts' Restricted Section would cry in envy.
Lucien stopped in front of one shelf.
"…That's the Codex Argentum," he said calmly.
"Extinct since the Roman collapse. The last copy was burned during the Carolingian purges."
Nicolas froze.
"…You recognize it?"
Lucien nodded. "Page seventy-three has a transcription error."
Silence.
Then Nicolas laughed—genuinely delighted.
"Well then," he said, clapping his hands,
"Let us see what kind of monster Dumbledore has been hiding."
The Test (That Wasn't Supposed to Be Passed)
Nicolas began asking questions.
Not student questions.
Professor questions.
Alchemical paradoxes Soul-weight measurements Transmutation failure probabilities Philosopher Stone limitations
Lucien answered.
Every single one.
Sometimes immediately.
Sometimes after a pause—thinking, not guessing.
For the few questions Lucien didn't answer fully, Nicolas filled in the gaps…
Only for Lucien to nod and say:
"I suspected that, but lacked confirmation."
By the end, Nicolas leaned back in his chair, staring.
"…Your knowledge reserves are at a professor level."
Lucien tilted his head. "Is that bad?"
Nicolas burst out laughing.
At first, he had considered making Lucien his disciple.
Now?
He glanced toward the doorway—where Perenelle was watching with a knowing smile.
No.
That wouldn't work.
This child isn't a student.
He smiled softly.
"…A grandson," Nicolas murmured.
"Yes. That's better."
Dinner at the Flamel Household (a.k.a. Lucien Is Fed to Death)
Dinner was… excessive.
Perenelle refused to let Lucien's plate empty.
"Eat more."
"You're too thin."
"Alchemy burns calories."
"Have dessert."
"Another dessert."
Lucien tried to protest.
Failed.
Nicolas watched, amused, as his wife declared ownership of Lucien's well-being.
"At Hogwarts, do you eat properly?" she demanded.
Lucien replied honestly. "Most days."
She narrowed her eyes.
"We'll fix that."
Lucien suddenly understood fear.
Night Talks & Forbidden Truths
Later that night, by the fireplace, Nicolas spoke quietly.
"There's something even Dumbledore doesn't know."
Lucien listened.
"There is more than one Philosopher's Stone."
Lucien blinked. "…Figures."
Nicolas smiled.
"I made several. Most were destroyed. Some… hidden."
Then he leaned closer.
"The stone Dumbledore possesses?"
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"It will not grant true immortality."
Lucien froze.
"It can sustain life," Nicolas continued,
"but once Voldemort regains a human body… the degradation resumes."
Lucien processed it.
"…How long?"
Nicolas smiled thinly.
"Two years."
There was a pause.
Then Lucien burst out laughing.
Full, uncontrollable laughter.
"I can see his face," Lucien said between breaths.
"Thinking he's eternal—only to get a countdown timer."
Nicolas laughed with him.
Perenelle shook her head fondly.
"Such a terrible child," she said, handing Lucien a blanket.
"Just like family."
That Night
Lucien stayed in the Flamel mansion.
Safe.
Warm.
Spoiled.
As he drifted to sleep, one thought lingered:
Voldemort is running toward a prize that's already rotten.
And Lucien?
Lucien had time.