Chapter 113: The Truth about the Philosopher's Stone
Phineas didn't quite grasp that his wand would betray its own flaws, but Nicolas was right. He intended to craft his own wand—one unknown to Ollivander and the Ministry of Magic.
However, he didn't plan to make it by hand; he aimed to create it through the system. The wand's wood had already been chosen—snakewood—but he remained uncertain about its core.
Logically, phoenix feathers seemed the most suitable. His current wand used a phoenix feather core.
Yet, Phineas always felt that this material wasn't right for him, so he continued to hesitate.
Most importantly, he had only just gathered the necessary gems to customize a wand through the system.
He also needed to reserve some gems for emergencies, so the project would have to wait.
Sure enough, just as Phineas was packing the books that Nicolas had asked him to take, Dumbledore appeared outside the house in a flash of Fawkes's fire. He followed the same routine as before, having the house-elf bring him in.
"Mr. Black, I believe it's time you returned to Hogwarts,"
Dumbledore said directly to Phineas as he stepped inside. It was clear the wizarding family representatives had been troubling him for the past couple of days; his attitude toward Phineas was less than warm.
Phineas shrugged, smiled at Nicolas, and stepped beside Dumbledore, reaching for his arm.
In a blaze of fire, Phineas and Dumbledore disappeared.
"Can't bear to let him go?"
A gentle female voice spoke behind Nicolas.
"Perenelle, you know me. Phineas is truly remarkable,"
he replied.
Perenelle rolled her eyes.
"Yes, he is. He could inherit your legacy. But is that really necessary? Didn't we already make this decision long ago? Of course, if you're struggling to let go, I can stay with you a bit longer."
Nicolas shook his head.
"There's no reluctance. We still have a few years—enough for me to teach him everything essential."
Perenelle frowned slightly.
"Is that really enough? Nicolas, it took you five centuries to accumulate your knowledge. That boy Phineas is excellent, and I like him too. But even if he's a genius, it's impossible for him to learn in a few short years what took you five hundred."
Nicolas shook his head.
"He doesn't need to learn everything. I'll teach him the basics. The rest, he can discover through my research notes. What path he takes after that is up to him. We shouldn't interfere too much."
Perenelle smiled faintly.
"Honestly, I came here to persuade you—but now it's you persuading me. Still, Albus has been a bit too harsh with Phineas."
Nicolas sighed.
"I understand Albus. From Phineas's perspective, he might seem unreasonable, but I see where he's coming from. Albus knows he doesn't have long—ten or twenty years at most. He's not like us. The Council of Elders won't allow him to live forever. And twenty years is just enough for Phineas to wait. Albus is trying to prevent another Dark Lord."
Perenelle shook her head.
"He's too cautious, too controlling. Anything beyond his reach, he treats as a threat."
Nicolas nodded.
"That's true, but more than that, Albus sees his younger self in Phineas. Don't forget, when we first met him, he was still a saint."
"A saint… I suppose the Potter family's Invisibility Cloak is with him."
Perenelle asked.
Nicolas nodded.
"Yes, and the Elder Wand he took from Grindelwald."
"So all he's missing is the Resurrection Stone?"
"He's missing more than that. If he were to gather all three Deathly Hallows, he could control Death itself. The Council won't allow the Hallows to remain in circulation within the wizarding world."
Nicolas sighed.
"But we have to admit—the Deathly Hallows are immensely powerful. They hold some authority over death. The saints' pursuit of them isn't entirely without reason. Still, even the Hallows can't defeat Death. Something is missing if one truly wishes to control it."
"What's missing?"
Perenelle asked.
Nicolas didn't answer. He stared instead at a painting on the nearby wall—not a magical painting, but a Muggle one. It depicted the Black Death, hundreds of years ago.
Darkness and death filled the scene. Perenelle said nothing further. She simply reached out and held Nicolas's hand.
Their bodies, sustained by the Elixir of Life for over six centuries, had long since passed normal vitality. Even their grip lacked strength—it was merely a touch.
But in that simple gesture, they could feel one another's emotions. And that warmth was enough.
The Black Death remained a deep wound in both of their hearts.
Everyone in the wizarding world knew that Nicolas Flamel had created the Philosopher's Stone and defeated death. But no one knew that the Philosopher's Stone was born from a pain that Nicolas could never forget.
At its core, alchemy was built on a principle that could never be violated: equivalent exchange.
Though alchemists might tilt the scales, they could never eliminate the cost.
Thus, the Philosopher's Stone came at a terrible price.
The Black Death was that price.
In truth, the Philosopher's Stone should never have existed.
Back then, Nicolas had been deeply immersed in his research—the pursuit of the ultimate goal of alchemy.
But due to an unforeseen accident, a virus emerged. Nicolas failed to notice it at first. Only when the virus began to spread through the principle of equivalent exchange did he realize the creation of the Stone was not without consequences.
No one had succeeded before him—not just because it was difficult, but because the cost was unbearable.
The Stone's primary requirement was an immense amount of life force. The Black Death became the mechanism through which that vitality was harvested.
The second price was love.
Only the life of someone deeply loved by the alchemist, combined with that vast vitality, could achieve the Philosopher's Stone's legendary power to grant wishes.
Realizing the consequences, Nicolas attempted to halt the process. The result was a semi-finished product—rich with vitality—which became known as the Philosopher's Stone in the wizarding world.