For the next while, Wade continued to help Nicolas Flamel and Perenelle organize their various collections, which Flamel unreservedly called his "legacy."
"When you think about it, we're truly lucky," Perenelle said with a warm smile, sitting in an armchair wrapped in a blanket, holding a hot cup of tea. "Many people don't get this opportunity!"
"These things help me recall the time we spent together," Flamel said, holding Perenelle's hand and smiling. "I found that Ebony Pipe you gave me. I remember it was a gift for my 380th birthday."
"Ah, I remember it had a piece of amber inlaid in the tail," Perenelle said, also with a nostalgic tone. "You loved it and used it for many years."
"When I found it, there was still a bit of tobacco in the bowl! But it all crumbled to dust with just a touch," Flamel said regretfully.
The two sat on the balcony, leaning close together, chatting as they sifted through small but precious fragments from their memories.
Perhaps because life would eventually end, this couple, who had been together for over six centuries, now had endless things to talk about. However, Perenelle's energy wasn't good, and she often fell asleep mid-sentence.
Whenever this happened, Flamel would cover her with the blanket, smooth her hair, and sit silently with his wife for a while before joining Wade in tidying up. However, he now found it difficult even to hold a thick book and had to stop and rest after just a few minutes of work.
Over six centuries, Flamel had received countless Christmas gifts. All sorts of magical items, precious materials, priceless paintings, and jewels... Even without actively collecting, he had amassed a huge amount.
He and Perenelle had no descendants, but they had many friends. Flamel also had deep connections with several magic schools, especially Beauxbatons, his alma mater.
Thus, most of the sorted belongings were to be gifted to Flamel's friends, including certain magical creatures.
From the West to the East, from mountains to oceans, even the North Pole held friends of this Wizard. The thought surprised even himself.
Some items he intended to donate to magic schools, hospitals, or certain organizations, and even quite a few Muggle universities and museums.
Some Flamel wanted to leave to the House-elves who had cared for the couple for many years. Though not a huge number, it was enough to make the House-elves cry tears of gratitude, lying prostrate on the floor.
"After I die, I hope you can take them in."
Flamel held Wade's hand and said, "House-elves without masters are more pitiful than stray dogs on the street. But more than that, I don't want them to fall into the hands of unscrupulous Wizards who would abuse them like slaves."
"Milo and the others are lovely and sensible House-elves. They even know some Alchemy. They'll definitely be able to help you."
"Please rest assured," Wade promised. "I will take good care of them."
"Ah... I believe you."
Flamel smiled and said, "I heard you took in a House-elf and treat him like family. That's why I decided to entrust Milo and the others to you."
"But don't worry about wages or clothes. You'll scare them, Wade... Not every elf is full of the spirit of freedom and defiance."
There were also some parts of his legacy that Flamel intended to take with him to his grave, such as the pipe Perenelle had given him.
This portion of his legacy held no great monetary value, but to Flamel, each item carried precious memories and was priceless.
Wade packed the last box. A green Quill flew over, swiftly writing the recipient's name and address, then a House-elf placed it on a shelf.
The Walnut Wood Bookshelf, which stretched up to the ceiling, now held hundreds of identical boxes. They looked to be only the size of an ordinary shoebox and felt light when picked up, as if they only contained a single sweater.
Of course, the magical space inside these single-use boxes was far greater than their appearance suggested. Some, by simply tearing off the seal, could instantly fill an entire classroom.
Flamel had already contacted the Owl Post Office in advance. These boxes would all be mailed out at the agreed-upon time—that is, after Flamel's passing.
As for the portion gifted to Muggle friends or institutions, Wade had contacted Muggle logistics companies over the past few days. It took several trucks to haul all the packages away.
Bit by bit, things dwindled, and the once-full room began to feel somewhat empty. In the end, apart from essential furniture, no superfluous items remained.
Of course, Flamel didn't keep Wade around just to help with the work. As they sorted through the collections, Flamel, like a gentle spring rain, also shared various thoughts on Alchemy with Wade.
He never mentioned knowledge already written in books. Instead, he spoke more about the creative process of alchemical items, like how to transform a barren desert into an oasis. Sometimes, he would briefly touch on elemental transformation and transcendence, the creation of living beings, reflections on time and space, the mysteries of the universe, and so on.
"Wade, most of those seemingly impressive Alchemies are actually no different from us applying a Scouring Charm to a teacup."
One time, during a break, Flamel casually remarked, "The most profound Alchemy is the transformation and unification of soul, spirit, and Magical Power."
"I don't understand, sir," Wade said. "Are you implying... human Alchemy?"
"No... you don't need to understand..." Flamel seemed to have let something slip and quickly added, "Pursuing knowledge of origins is very dangerous. Its answers only bring destruction."
Wade nodded thoughtfully.
Flamel didn't leave any gold, silver, or powerful alchemical items to Wade. Besides the clock collection room, he also gifted Wade a box of alchemical materials.
Of course, although it was called a "box," the capacity of a box in the magical world was naturally quite substantial.
"Child, tangible treasures will bring you disaster. Knowledge is the greatest treasure I leave you."
Flamel said gently, "Knowledge is freedom, and also a burden; it is the most miraculous Alchemy."
"It can bring power and wealth, turn ordinary stones into gold, and allow one to become the master of their own destiny. Once possessed, no one can take this treasure from your hands."
"But you must also understand the danger, Wade—I have seen many intelligent people become more and more like madmen the more knowledge they possessed. They turned what they learned into tools for their own destruction."
He paused, took a long, deep breath, and then said wearily, "Wade, remember—never become Icarus."
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