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At that mont, sothing bubbled and brewed in the laboratory and a rather eccentric-looking house-elf crouched in front of it with intense focus.
"Master! It's still this color!"
It turned to Nicolas Flal, its expression filled with despair.
"That's fine; just another failure. Let it simr a bit longer, and we can use it to water the garden," Nicolas Flal said nonchalantly as he passed his worktable.
"Understood, Master."
The house-elf let out a long sigh, its shoulders drooping.
"Cheer up; success isn't always necessary." Nicolas Flal offered a gentle reassurance before adding, "Rember, happiness increases the success rate of alchemical experints."
Unexpectedly, even the greatest alchemist of the age put stock in such superstitions.
"It's all Prolo's fault! Prolo didn't bring good luck to Master!" The house-elf wailed before beginning to pound its own head in self-punishnt.
Nicolas Flal sighed and swiftly stopped it. "I've told you countless tis— don't hit yourself. You'll damage your brain."
Then, in a voice laced with mock severity, he delivered his verdict: "As punishnt for your mistake, you are required to purchase two tickets to the fashion showcase in France. I'll personally supervise to ensure you sit through the entire event."
Nicolas Flal shot a glance at Albus Dumbledore, hesitating slightly before correcting himself. "No, three tickets. A second chaperone will ensure you take your punishnt seriously."
Upon hearing this.
The house-elf nodded and vanished from the laboratory.
"..."
Albus Dumbledore was montarily speechless. Even after all these years, his old friend remained as whimsical as ever.
"I think I'll pass." He politely declined Flal's unspoken invitation.
"Your loss." Nicolas Flal shrugged.
"Still want honey water?" He asked Dumbledore again.
"How about honey lemonade?" No sooner had Albus Dumbledore spoken than a cool drink materialized in his hand. Clearly, more than one house-elf worked within these walls.
Of course.
Dumbledore, who had not sensed the elf's presence, was more inclined to believe that the house itself had perford the task.
He took a mont to observe his surroundings.
Beyond the countless alchemical artifacts, the room housed bookshelves rivalling those of the Hogwarts library— filled with volus that Hogwarts itself had never been fortunate enough to acquire.
The space had clearly been expanded with enchantnts, but that was not all. The walls were lined with countless runes inscribed in ancient alchemical scripts. Their presence suggested that this house was a fortress— perhaps one even more impenetrable than Hogwarts itself.
The only part of the room untouched by inscriptions was a section where six portraits hung, each depicting Nicolas Flal and his wife, Perenelle.
Each painting was separated by exactly one hundred years, marking the passage of ti. The first image captured their youth— vibrant and full of life while the last bore the weight of centuries. Yet, they still remained in this world, standing side by side.
"Are you attempting to create a universal potion?" Albus Dumbledore's gaze fell upon the experint still brewing before him, its contents labeled as failures.
Despite his humility, Dumbledore was a master of magic in all its forms. His alchemical expertise might not match the true elder of this house, but his knowledge and insight were second to none.
"The Philosopher's Stone I gave you has very little magic left, so naturally, I want to explore other alternatives. Unfortunately, even I am not immune to the limitations of ti."
Nicolas Flal sighed softly.
"When I was young, you told that death is rely another great adventure. I didn't expect that I would be the only one who truly believed in that sentint."
Albus Dumbledore teased.
Nicolas Flal chuckled heartily.
"Oh, I still believe it. But given the choice, who wouldn't want to see just a little more?" His gaze drifted towards the rain-kissed landscape beyond the window, where the world shimred anew under the glistening light.
"I haven't seen enough yet."
His tone carried a wistful air, but there was no desperation— his deanor, his entire being, suggested a man who had long made peace with the passing of centuries.
"Yes, this mortal world... is beautiful..." Albus Dumbledore lowered his head slightly, as if to hide the sorrow lingering in his eyes.
"Hold on a mont." Nicolas Flal pulled out a tall ladder and began rummaging through his expansive bookshelf, slipping on a pair of dragon-hide gloves to protect the delicate, tiworn pages of ancient tos.
After all, so books were simply too old, too fragile, and impossible to replicate.
"We have all the ti we need," Albus Dumbledore said patiently, using the opportunity to scan the room for any new alchemical inventions his old friend had been working on.
And indeed, there were.
A peculiar contraption caught his eye— sothing Ian might have dismissed as childish, yet it held Dumbledore's interest. It resembled a magical interpretation of a Muggle arcade machine, though imbued with the unmistakable handiwork of Flal's alchemy.
Inside, miniature figures moved with a realism that would challenge even the most advanced Muggle illusions, depicting a fantastical ga where one could interact directly with the world inside. When frustration struck, the user could even reach in and alter the course of the ga by hand.
Predictably, within minutes, Dumbledore was engrossed. He reached into the machine and swiftly dispatched the final boss— a miniature Welsh Green dragon that had incinerated his controlled character at least ten tis.
"If you enjoy this little creation, you're welco to take it back to Hogwarts," Nicolas Flal said with amusent, watching Dumbledore's absorbed expression.
"Actually, I've been thinking about your enchanted orchestra all this ti." Dumbledore set the arcade aside and turned his attention to a small table near the workbench.
Upon it stood dozens of miniature, enchanted musicians, not unlike tiny clockwork figures. The mont Flal snapped his fingers, the band ca to life, playing an elegant symphony in perfect harmony.
Not only that.
The instant they launched into a composition by Bach, the figures themselves transford, taking on the likeness of the composer as they played. Their magic carried the sound across the vast laboratory, creating an imrsive musical experience unlike any mundane performance.
"Bach's music is already two hundred years old— give Beethoven instead. He only passed a little over a century ago, so his work is still fresh by my standards."
Flal's perspective on what was considered 'new' was, unsurprisingly, rather unconventional. But as soon as he issued the request, the tiny musicians seamlessly shifted their forms, transforming into perfect replicas of Beethoven, adjusting their lodies accordingly.
"Still as fascinating as ever."
Albus Dumbledore smiled with a trace of admiration. He was fully capable of enchanting objects himself, but his own lack of musical talent ant he could never bring them to life with such artistry.
"They are among my greatest treasures. You may have them after I'm gone." Flal descended from the ladder at last, empty-handed.
"Is there a way?"
Dumbledore quickly set down the tiny conductor, his focus returning to the true reason for his visit.
"I have pinpointed the exact points in history where so of the lost materials once existed. Fortunately, if you can acquire a Ti-Turner from the Departnt of Mysteries, then ours can be restored."
"You'll have to bend the rules of ti once again… but I still believe that such ddling always exacts a price."
Nicolas Flal had clearly discovered a thod to repair the ancient Ti-Turner. Of course, in his mind, this was only a theoretical possibility, with consequences that remained unknown.
"We both understand the limitations of Ti-Turners, which is why you still need the legendary assistance you ntioned," Flal continued, addressing the most crucial elent of the plan.
Albus Dumbledore frowned.
Neither he nor Grindelwald had yet uncovered the location of Salazar Slytherin's fabled forest— if it even still existed— let alone determined whether Slytherin himself could be persuaded to aid them.
"I take it you've had no success in tracking down that legend?"
Flal imdiately read the difficulty in Dumbledore's expression.
"This will take ti," Dumbledore admitted with a quiet sigh.
"In my view, even if you do find him, convincing him to help will be another battle entirely… No one but you would dare to toy with ti and fate like this."
Flal made to hand the ancient Ti-Turner back to Dumbledore.
But.
Dumbledore did not reach out to take it.
"Can you begin the other restoration work first?"
His gaze held an uncharacteristic plea.
(To Be Continued…)
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