236: Teacher and Support
Turning his head, John saw an elderly man who looked as if he had lived for centuries, his entire being fragile like glass.
"Professor Nicolas!!"
Upon seeing the old man, John greeted him warmly.
A smile also appeared on Nicolas Flal's face.
As the only alchemist to ever create the Philosopher's Stone, he stood at the pinnacle of all alchemists.
The last ti John had co to the Gate of Things with Ekrizdis, Nicolas Flal had already been there.
It was also Nicolas Flal who had reinforced Silverwick's Sword for John.
Though their ti as teacher and student had only lasted a few months, Nicolas Flal was truly pleased.
"You've grown. This is your work, isn't it?"
Nicolas Flal glanced at the Finite Gauntlet, his expression filled with pride.
With his keen eyes, he could easily see that the alchemical craftsmanship in the gauntlet was at the very top, surpassing most other alchemists in the magical world.
For John to have reached such a level in just a few short years—it was astonishing, even to him.
"Why does this space look different from last ti?"
John was puzzled. The last ti he was here, it had been filled with mirrors. But now, it was Gubraithian Fire.
Nicolas Flal simply replied, "The essence of the Gate of Things is that it contains everything. Change is only natural."
Seeing the legendary Casket of Eternal Frost, Nicolas Flal couldn't help but be astonished.
"The fabled artifact of the Giant Kingdom… You've really brought quite the trouble."
As the current custodian of the Gate of Things, even Nicolas Flal found the Casket of Eternal Frost to be a headache.
John spoke seriously, "I want to enter the Gate of Things and banish the Casket forever."
However, Nicolas Flal shook his head, his gaze filled with kindness and concern.
"Child, everything requires an exchange. You are not in a good state right now."
Seeing John's condition, Nicolas Flal's heart ached.
Both arms were damaged, and even his soul had been affected.
Just then, an elderly woman approached—it was her second ti eting John.
Upon seeing his condition, her eyes filled with sorrow, and she scolded gently, "Albus did not take good care of you."
Perenelle Flal.
She was Nicolas Flal's wife, who had chosen to end her immortality and co here with him.
Nicolas Flal truly saw John as his successor, which ant that, to Perenelle, he was like a child of her own.
Seeing John's current state, she couldn't help but feel so dissatisfaction toward Dumbledore.
John fell silent.
How was he supposed to tell his ntor that his relationship with Dumbledore wasn't exactly good?
Perenelle's eyes welled up with tears as she said, "He's only fifteen… Why does he have to go through all this?"
Her words ward John's heart.
He had walked this path alone, shouldering far too much on his own.
This unexpected concern was like a stone dropped into his heart's still waters—causing ripples that spilled from his eyes.
"Leave it here," Nicolas Flal said with concern. "What you need most right now is to heal your body."
"Thank you."
This "thank you" ca from the depths of John's heart.
He solemnly promised, "Teacher, I will find a way to fix this."
Though he longed to catch up with his ntor, John knew he was running out of ti.
Without hesitation, he strode toward the Gate of Things—only through it could he resolve everything.
The Gate of Things opened, revealing three doors inside.
A White Door, symbolizing Life and Death.
A Golden Door, representing Past and Future.
A Silver Door, embodying Creation.
This ti, John stopped before the Silver Door.
Gazing at his crippled hands, he watched as the door slowly creaked open—without a single breeze.
From beyond the door, a hand reached out.
Equivalent Exchange.
John gritted his teeth and raised his right hand.
On his Infinity Gauntlet, only one Philosopher's Stone remained.
"As the price for healing my hands, I offer the Philosopher's Stone."
The hand paused for a mont.
Before John could even react, the Philosopher's Stone had already been taken.
As soon as the stone was accepted, a wave of searing pain shot through John's hands.
It felt as if his arms were being cut off and regrown all over again.
His hands were undergoing a complete transformation.
By the ti it was over, John was drenched in sweat.
He clenched his fists tightly—his hands were restored.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out another Philosopher's Stone and shouted toward the Gate of Things, "I want a space that can banish the Ice Casket!"
His voice echoed, but the gate remained completely still.
John's heart sank.
He didn't have much left to offer as an exchange—aside from another Philosopher's Stone, all he had was the Gauntlet and Silverwick Sword.
Clenching his teeth, he painfully removed his ring and called out again,
"I need a space that can banish the Ice Casket!"
Still, there was no response.
John's gaze fell upon Silverwick Sword.
Raising it high, he shouted once more, "I need a space that can banish the Ice Casket!"
This ti, the Gate of Things finally reacted—but not to Silverwick Sword.
Instead, countless arms suddenly erged from the gate—grasping at John, trying to drag him inside.
John's expression changed drastically, and he hurriedly retreated.
Faced with the relentless force of the Gate of Things, he realized that, in the end, his own power alone was far too weak.
Just as the hands were about to grab hold of him—They stopped.
John saw his teacher, Nicolas Flal, standing before him.
The Gate of Things retreated back into the door.
John let out a bitter laugh and sighed, "Looks like banishing it isn't an option."
But Nicolas Flal didn't smile.
He stepped closer, helped John up, and said in a heavy tone,
"Nothing is perfect, John. That includes people." His expression turned serious as he continued, "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"You keep forcing yourself to bear everything alone. I don't know exactly what you've been through at school, but this isn't how it should be."
John froze.
He was right.
John had been pushing himself too hard.
Even though he had founded the Constellation Society, he had never wanted his friends to be in danger.
He always claid it was for connections, but in the end—He was always the one standing at the front lines.
He was the one who would go up against Voldemort for his friends.
He was the one who risked breaking taboos, even facing death, just to save Hermione and Nagini.
To help Neville's parents, he was even willing to endure the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
He trusted his friends too much.
In his second year, Harry's malice was full of flaws and contradictions, but back then, John still saw Harry as a friend—so he never doubted him.
His cruelty was reserved only for outsiders—which also led to his habit of shouldering everything alone.
Because he wasn't like Harry.
Harry had Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Lupin, Sirius, Moody, Hagrid, the Weasleys, the Order of the Phoenix... and even Snape.
All these adults were Harry's safety net.
They tolerated his mistakes and gave him the chance to stumble and learn.
If Harry needed money, the Potter family had left him a fortune, and Sirius was always ready to hand over all the Black family's wealth to him.
If Harry needed help, Professor McGonagall would send him a Nimbus broomstick, Lupin would teach him the Patronus Charm, the Weasleys treated him like their own son, and the Order of the Phoenix was full of his parents' allies.
But John…
He had no safety net.
He had to rely on himself to stop everything.
His margin for error was zero.
One failure, and he could be erased.
He could see it..
Snape's suspicion.
Dumbledore's distrust.
From the mont he entered Hogwarts, his only real chance to change his fate was when Dumbledore sent him to France in his first year.
Did he want a ntor?
Of course, he did!
In his third year, he had tried many tis to win over Snape's favor—wasn't it because he, too, wanted a ntor who could tolerate his mistakes?
Soone who would allow him to breathe—so he wouldn't have to walk on eggshells all the ti?
Unfortunately… he failed.
Snape sided with Dumbledore.
Or rather, Snape was dedicated to protecting Harry.
Understanding this, John let out a bitter chuckle.
With a sincere yet pained expression, he admitted:
"Professor, there's no one behind ."
Aside from Constellation Society, Johnny Silverhand was rely a matter of alliances and mutual interests.
Even Damocles Alex Belby, who had helped him the most, only did so because of a deal involving reputation.
Constellation Society was not yet strong enough.
Which ant—John had to bear everything alone.
A trace of exhaustion appeared between his brows as he turned toward the Gate of Things/Matter/Everything, his heart heavy with disappointnt.
"Looks like I can't get rid of the Ice Casket."
He wasn't sure whether leaving the Ice Casket inside the Gate of Matter would cause trouble for his teacher.
But… he still didn't want to leave it behind.
Without a word, Nicolas Flal led him to the Golden Gate.
As the Golden Gate opened, John could sense the Gate of Matter's discontent.
It was unhappy that Nicolas Flal was breaking the rules—letting John pass without an exchange.
But Nicolas Flal didn't care.
With a gentle yet firm voice, he said:
"Go, child. Your teacher is behind you!"
His words were filled with conviction—and yet, he had never known that his own student had suffered so much in the outside world.
As a teacher—as a ntor—Hearing those words, a heart that had lived for centuries was suddenly pierced with pain.
Nicolas Flal felt both heartache and guilt toward John—enough that he was willing to bend the rules for him.
John knew there was nothing more he could do, so he could only bid farewell to his teacher.
At the sa ti, he also understood—his teacher was about to act on his behalf.
As he stepped through the Golden Gate, the Gate of Matter shut behind him.
Nicolas Flal's gaze was deep and unreadable.
His wife stepped forward, gently taking his arm.
The two of them stood there silently, watching John walk away.
...
[Ding, mission completed.]
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