Chapter 95: Percival and Gellert
"Why are you no longer speaking of 'the Greater Good'?" a voice suddenly asked from beside him. An old man, weathered and gaunt from the ravages of time, had appeared from nowhere. His clothes were worn and tattered, yet he wore them with a certain elegance, as if they were the finest bespoke robes. His face was wrinkled, his hair a mess, but the handsome contours of his youth were still visible, and he moved with the grace of a bygone era.
"You came."
"I came."
"You shouldn't have."
"And yet, here I am."
After this clipped exchange, the man who called himself Percival Gellert stared at the newcomer for a long time, as if they had not seen each other face-to-face for many, many years.
"He should not be outside of Nurmengard," Percival finally said, his voice firm. "The entire wizarding world will not allow it."
"Who?" the other man replied with a thin smile. "I, Gellert Albus... I'm not sure what you mean. Wasn't it a certain someone who personally undid the magical restraints on him, allowing him to regain his power and heal his body?"
"The one who undid the restraints did so because of a prophecy! He needed a partner!" Percival retorted, his voice rising.
"And he will have that partner's help. Always!" Gellert said, taking a leisurely stroll as if he were breathing fresh air for the first time after a long confinement.
"His current state is not very convincing. He's barely stronger than an elite Auror and still needs time to recover!"
"Fine, fine," Gellert said, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Let's not argue. This is hardly the time or place for it."
The gesture gave Percival pause. In all their years together, in the summers of their youth in the valley, he had never seen Gellert act this way. So many years have passed... we've both grown so old... and you have changed, even if it's only in front of me.
Percival's tone softened. "Since you are here, let us take a look together. Let's see why MACUSA would rather cover this up than deal with it."
"Why else? They've always been incompetent," Gellert scoffed.
"They caught you once."
"That was because of your star pupil. MACUSA's Aurors are trash. I never considered them a threat."
They walked on, their demeanor relaxed. If there was truly something in this place that could threaten the two of them together, MACUSA would have been wiped off the map long ago.
As they passed through the broken barrier, the faint smell of old blood hung in the air. Before them lay a rustic, pastoral manor, complete with a chicken coop, a vegetable garden, and a water wheel. But there was no sign of life. The ground was stained with blackened blood, and the area was covered in a dense pattern of footprints, likely left by the investigating Aurors.
"This wasn't done with spells," Gellert said, his nostrils flaring as he analyzed the lingering magical traces. He made the pronouncement with absolute certainty, then added a derisive comment about the declining quality of MACUSA's Aurors.
"Indeed. Alchemical weapons," Percival said, finally drawing the wand from his pocket and using it to probe the area.
Gellert's eyes fixed on the wand, his expression a complex mixture of nostalgia, longing, and finally, acceptance. He remembered who held it now, and a resigned smile touched his lips. "Al... Percival," he said, correcting himself. "Have you found anything?"
"From the residual magic, it was definitely an alchemical weapon. From the blood spatter, it was a blade, a very, very sharp one. A single, fatal strike, giving the victims no time to react. But the magical signature... it's strange." Percival frowned. "If I didn't know Nicolas Flamel so well, I would almost suspect this was his handiwork."
At the mention of Flamel's name, Gellert's eyes narrowed. He knew of the legendary alchemist's incredible power, in both alchemy and traditional magic. For Percival to connect this scene to him... it meant the weapon possessed some extraordinary quality beyond mere sharpness. Any goblin could forge a sharp blade. But this was something else entirely.
Gellert opened his own magical senses, perceiving the world on a level beyond human sight. He saw the dark, swirling miasma of death, the yellow-green glow of natural life, the faint traces of the manor's original enchantments, and the brighter, fresher marks of the Aurors' investigative spells. And then, he saw it. He saw why Percival had mentioned Nicolas Flamel.
Back in Flamel's cottage, Ryan, buried in his mountain of books, finally found the answer to a question that had been plaguing him. He tried to stand, but found his body was completely drained of strength.
"You're finally back with us. I was beginning to think Nicolas had taught you into a stupor," a kindly old woman said with a smile. A tray of food and a silver pitcher floated beside her.
From her words and his location, Ryan instantly knew who she was. He forced himself to his feet and bowed politely. "Good day, the esteemed Madam Perenelle. I am Ryan Welles. Master Flamel has graciously taken me on as a student of alchemy."
"I know who you are, dear. A good student," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Do you have any idea how long you've been sitting there, turning pages?" She saw him swaying and pointed her wand at him. A wave of revitalizing energy washed over him. His aches vanished, and a ravenous hunger took their place.
Madam Perenelle's magic is as profound as her husband's, he thought. She could probably take on several Snapes at once.
"I remember suggesting the Headmaster go to MACUSA," he said, his memory hazy. "And the next thing I know, you were here. It seems I was in some kind of trance. Could you tell me how long I was reading?"
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