— Wait, Victor. Since we are alone, there is something I want to discuss with you.
— Yes, of course, — Victor replied, stopping in his tracks.
Perenelle looked at him intently and pulled out an envelope. Victor immediately recognized the letter he had received from Ben.
— Hey, that's an invasion of privacy, — he smirked.
— I agree, it wasn't a very nice thing to do. I was simply worried about your friend.
— So, I wasn't imagining things, — Victor nodded.
— What exactly?
— Ben's shop has a specific scent, and when I returned today, I smelled it on you.
Perenelle laughed softly.
— What are you, a dog?
— Just a good sense of smell. Actually, all my senses are heightened.
Perenelle nodded understandingly.
— And don't worry about Ben; he's quite a pleasant person.
— Pleasant? I remember him from a very different side.
— Age... He's gone quite soft now.
— Well, alright, I've already spoken with Ben. But what about the letter? I saw some familiar names in there. Are they bothering you? If necessary, I can restrain them a bit. And if I use all my connections, I can crush them entirely.
Victor smirked.
— No need. They have merely become unforeseen participants in my experiment.
— You mean the explosion? — Perenelle arched an eyebrow. — I saw the crater. Quite impressive.
— No, that was just a toy. I'm sure a wizard like Dumbledore could replicate that with nothing but a wand.
Noticing the lack of understanding on Perenelle's face, Victor paused for a moment to think, then began to explain:
— You know, sometimes I can be quite persuasive. No, impressive even, — he looked her straight in the eyes. — Dumbledore thinks that this summer was the first time I killed someone — after that incident in my childhood. But it's not true. I started killing back in the asylum. Just through someone else's hands.
He paused, as if savoring the memory.
— When they locked me in solitary in the basement as a dangerous patient, the hardest part wasn't the silence. No, an asylum is never quiet. And in the basement, where they keep the most violent ones, not a minute went by without someone screaming. They kept a cannibal in the cell next to mine. He spent all day shouting about how hungry he was. We got so tired of it that we came up with a plan.
— "We"? Weren't you alone? — Perenelle asked in surprise.
— Yes and no. Let's just say I had support. So, we — that is, I — started thinking about how to get rid of him. And I found a way. My sweet, naive psychologist who was desperate to help everyone... She spent two hours a day with me, so obsessed with fixing my mind that she didn't notice she was being processed herself. It took me six months to convince her of the only way to help those who could no longer be saved. In the end, the cannibal died of heart failure. Everything was written off as a medical error.
Victor shrugged indifferently.
— And then I was moved to a regular ward. I didn't even have time to enjoy the silence before she took my place a month later. She couldn't stop — eight patients died there then. They took the investigation seriously and quickly tracked it back to her. In the end, I ruined one life, taking eight more in the process. Now, inspired, I decided to go further. With my knowledge coupled with magic, I wanted to see how far I could go. And, as it turns out, I'm doing quite well. Little Oscar, the one who exploded, was my experiment.
Perenelle sighed heavily.
— Where were you before? Do you know how hard I had it in the very beginning? If I had such a way to "zombify" people, my life would have been much easier.
Victor laughed quietly.
— Things turned out quite well for you anyway.
— That is only thanks to my long life, — Perenelle shook her head. — It wasn't always that way.
Victor nodded in understanding.
— Victor, — she became serious, — don't tell anyone else about this. Especially Dumbledore.
— Of course. It's one of my main trump cards.
Perenelle nodded approvingly.
— That's right. And as for those purebloods, don't worry — I'll deal with them myself.
— No! — Victor suddenly stepped toward her and grabbed her hand, shaking it slightly. — Don't break my toys! — he whined playfully.
— Ha-ha-ha! — Perenelle laughed genuinely. — Toys?
Victor nodded.
— Fine. Но but if you run into trouble — just say the word. Alchemy plays a huge role in the lives of mages, and therefore in the economy. Our family has colossal influence in this industry, and we can arrange it so that their businesses suddenly start to suffocate.
— Our family... — Victor repeated.
Perenelle smiled warmly and pulled him close.
— Yes. Ours.
That night, after putting Victor and Adele to bed, Perenelle returned to the library. She sat in a deep leather armchair for a long time, motionless, staring out the window at the deepening twilight. Her face was reflected in the glass — calm, wise, and frighteningly cold in the silence.
In over six centuries, she and Nicolas never had children of their own. They were perpetually surrounded by crowds of distant relatives, but behind their fake smiles and beautiful speeches, Perenelle saw only one thing: a greedy anticipation of an inheritance. If she had ever had a son or a grandson, she would have wanted to see him exactly like Victor.
His cruelty didn't frighten her in the least. On the contrary. Having lived a long life, Perenelle knew this world without embellishment: if you aren't a predator, you are prey. If you aren't cold-blooded, you are nothing more than a puppet in someone else's hands. At first, she had watched the boy, fearing him, but as she got to know him better, she realized he was the ideal candidate to succeed their colossal legacy. But only today, when the word "grandson" slipped from her lips, did she realize: this child had truly become family to her.
Perenelle knew: if anyone dared to harm him or use him for their own interests, she would take pleasure in reminding the wizarding world what the influence and wrath of the Flamel family truly meant.
In the middle of the night, a frantic Nicolas burst into the silence of the library. He dashed along the shelves, feverishly scanning the spines.
— It's here somewhere... definitely here, — he muttered, ransacking shelf after shelf. — Where on earth did it go?!
— What are you looking for, Nick? — his wife's quiet voice made him start.
— Perenelle? — He finally noticed her in the chair. — Why aren't you sleeping? It's so late.
— I got caught up in my reading. So, what book do you need?
— A treatise on the nature of time and the methods of controlling its flows.
Perenelle simply raised her hand, and the required volume flew from the depths of the shelves, landing softly in her palm. Nicolas gave an awkward smile.
— Thank you... Why didn't I think to use magic myself?
— You always become ridiculously clumsy when you're obsessed with something, — she noted gently. — It was the same when you were creating the Philosopher's Stone.
Nicolas froze, frowning.
— Why did you suddenly mention that?
Perenelle thoughtfully touched the cover of the book.
— Nicolas... are you truly ready to give up eternity?
Flamel stepped closer, took her hand in his, and stroked it gently.
— I don't want an eternity where you aren't by my side.
Perenelle shook her head, looking him straight in the eyes:
— You didn't answer the question.
The alchemist sighed and looked away.
— No. I don't want to leave. I want to see where alchemy goes. The world is changing; progress is opening paths I never dared to dream of before. Damn it, even that boy has a ton of ideas! I don't know where he gets them, but a little more and I'll seriously stoop to breaking into his room and stealing all his diaries.
Perenelle laughed merrily.
— Well, if that's the case — get the Elixir.
Nicolas froze in astonishment.
— You've changed your mind? Truly, because of that rascal? Should I start getting jealous?
— Why not? If given time, he'll grow up to be quite a handsome man, — she smiled mischievously.
Flamel shook his head, but a spark of excitement lit up in his eyes. He walked to the fireplace and pressed a hidden mechanism. A secret panel slid aside, revealing a niche with identical boxes. He took one out and extracted two vials, inside of which a golden light pulsed.
— Are you sure? — he asked seriously, handing her one of them.
— Yes. This boy didn't come to us by chance. He filled our home with life and gave us back our purpose. You are burning with your work again. And I... I simply cannot leave him. No matter how smart and cunning he seems, he is still an impulsive and irresponsible child. He needs support. He needs me.
— Well, that's it, I'm officially jealous, — Nicolas smirked.
— Don't talk nonsense. I feel nothing but... parental love for him.
They met each other's eyes and drained the vials simultaneously. For a moment, nothing happened, then the air around them began to vibrate. Deep wrinkles began to smooth out, grey hair vanished, giving way to a rich color, and their backs straightened. A minute later, instead of two frail old people, two beautiful people in their thirties stood in the library.
Nicolas took the book from her hands.
— The choice is made; there is no turning back. And now, it's time for me to return to the workshop...
He didn't get to take a single step. Perenelle suddenly grabbed the edge of his robes and pulled him toward her.
— Are you serious? — She pouted her lips playfully, looking up at him. — Your young and beautiful wife is standing before you, and you're going to spend this night with your dusty alchemy?
Nicolas looked at her, and an interest that was not at all scientific flared in his eyes. He tossed the tome right into the armchair and wrapped his arms tightly around his wife's waist.
— Not a chance.