Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Unexpected Visitor

"Bestowing life?" Xiwen froze for a moment before asking. "But I've seen plenty of alchemical products, and none of them seemed to be alive!"

"The bestowing of life I speak of does not merely mean making inanimate matter come alive." Flamel smiled and shook his head at Xiwen. "It refers more to imitating the traits of magical creatures, thereby granting non-magical substances certain magical qualities."

"In fact, ancient scripts such as runes and seal characters were originally created based on the characteristics of the magical creatures of their time."

Xiwen nodded and muttered, "So it's bionic technology."

"Exactly! That's a fitting term." Flamel looked at Xiwen in surprise, affirming the phrase. "The essence of bestowing life is to grant functions similar to those of living beings."

"Once alchemy had developed to a certain stage, alchemists were able to combine and modify biological traits, creating new functions that departed entirely from the characteristics of magical creatures."

"So most of the alchemical products we see today are achieved through improvement and combination!" Xiwen said, suddenly enlightened.

Flamel nodded approvingly. "Alchemy is also in a process of constant development; unique systems and shortcuts have been organized along the way."

"Then… may I study alchemy under you?" Xiwen pursed his lips slightly and asked.

"Of course. Isn't that precisely why you came this time?" said Flamel. "But it's time to go see the opera now. Will you join me?" He smiled genially at Xiwen.

…

A week passed in the blink of an eye.

During those days, Xiwen followed Flamel in his study of alchemy. In the mornings, he attended Flamel's lectures; in the afternoons, he accompanied him and his wife, Perenelle Flamel, to the opera; in the evenings, he studied alchemical products on his own.

Both of the over-six-hundred-year-old elders were immensely wise, and even their casual words of guidance left Xiwen greatly enriched. Their lives were extremely regular, and their tastes much alike—both delighted in attending operas at the Palais Garnier in Paris.

As for Newt, he had long since left Flamel's safe house, said to have gone to the Seine in search of a species of magical creature on the verge of extinction.

Today was January 1st, the first day of 1938, and romantic flakes of snow drifted down over Paris.

Xiwen accompanied the Flamels to the Palais Garnier to enjoy the opera, just as he had every day.

The performance that evening was a romantic, nostalgic opera entitled *The Knight of the Rose*, which had earned excellent reviews, and the Flamels were greatly looking forward to it.

The front of the Palais Garnier was in the Baroque architectural style. Its interior was lavishly decorated; the walls and corridors were covered with Baroque sculptures, hanging lamps, and paintings, as opulent as a jewelry box brimming with gold, silver, and precious stones.

The three bought tickets just like Muggles, ascended the magnificent grand staircase, and made their way to a classical corridor where mirrors and glass shimmered and interwove in dazzling splendor.

Yet this grand corridor was thronged with people hurrying past.

It was just about time for the opera to begin, yet all the audience members seemed to have suddenly remembered something urgent, hastening through the corridor and streaming out of the opera house.

Not only the audience—Xiwen could even see actors in costume weaving through the crowd, hurrying toward the exit.

"It looks like a large-scale Muggle-Repelling Charm," Flamel said, frowning, to Perenelle and Xiwen beside him.

"Something seems wrong. Let's go back," said Madam Flamel, sensing a faint eeriness in the air.

Xiwen tensed as well and took the two elders by the arm, turning around to leave the opera house with the crowd.

But a transparent barrier suddenly appearing behind him cut off that thought.

"It seems we're too late," Xiwen said heavily.

As though answering his words, the moment his voice fell, the sound of footsteps drifted over from the stage ahead.

At their head was a middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his blond hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes. He strolled leisurely down from the stage, but with every step he took, the pressure he exerted upon Xiwen and the others grew heavier.

Behind the man followed a graceful young woman with long brown hair. More importantly, her features bore a subtle resemblance to Xiwen's.

"Grindelwald. What are you doing here?" Flamel's voice turned low as he gazed at the figure before him.

Hearing the name, Xiwen's eyes flew wide as he stared at the golden-haired, blue-eyed man.

'That's Grindelwald?!' Xiwen swallowed hard. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to run into the most powerful, most infamous Dark Lord in history—here, in Paris.

After all, Xiwen was only a first-year wizard. He had the distinct feeling of a wide-eyed novice stumbling out of the starting village and coming face-to-face with the final boss…

Grindelwald sauntered leisurely up to the three of them, not answering Flamel's question but merely surveying the resplendent surroundings and clicking his tongue in admiration. "Paris truly is a fine place."

"To this day I still find it hard to believe that these magnificent buildings were created by creatures as base as Muggles—let alone that they could forge weapons capable of threatening the wizarding world. What do you think, Monsieur Nicolas Flamel?"

"Every group has its own unique wisdom, Monsieur Grindelwald," Flamel replied, repeating the very words he had spoken to Xiwen.

"You're right!" Grindelwald did not argue, but nodded in agreement. "Which is exactly why we should conquer all Muggles as soon as possible—to keep them from developing too swiftly and endangering the wizarding world. Don't you agree, Monsieur Flamel?"

"War has always ended in mutual ruin. I do not believe your cause is of any benefit to the wizarding world." Flamel slowly shook his head, his tone firm.

"There are some things that can't be settled by taking them for granted." Grindelwald toyed idly with his wand, an air of disdain in his eyes. "So I would like to invite you, old sir, to Nurmengard as a guest, so that you may witness with your own eyes what the future holds!"

"I'm flattered that you think so highly of me that you came all this way to extend the invitation," Flamel said, his tone strangely calm.

"I'm afraid no one could afford to think little of you, Monsieur Flamel." A hint of a smile curled at the corner of Grindelwald's mouth.

Flamel nodded, meeting Grindelwald's gaze directly. "In that case, I will go with you to Nurmengard. But I require your word that my wife and this young gentleman will be allowed to leave."

"No!"

"Nick!"

Madam Flamel and Xiwen cried out at the same time.

…
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