Adele entered the kitchen, sleepily rubbing her eyes and yawning as she went. Seeing an unfamiliar woman busily cooking at the stove, she froze in her tracks.
— Adele, good morning! You're up unusually early today, — the stranger said affectionately.
— Good... morning... — the sleepiness vanished instantly. Adele stared at the woman for a few more seconds, then turned around and walked back out.
Perenelle simply smiled and returned to her cooking. Ten minutes later, Adele was back, dragging Victor behind her.
— And what's so important in the kitchen that you had to interrupt my morning meditation? — Victor grumbled, but as he looked up at the young Perenelle, he broke into a grin. — Oh... Good morning, gorgeous. Will you make me a coffee?
Perenelle laughed brightly.
— Thanks for the "gorgeous," but you're still not allowed coffee. Grow up a bit first.
Adele tugged his arm with all her might, whispering:
— Who is that?!
Victor looked at her and replied with a dead serious face:
— That is my secret wife.
Adele nodded, but then, realizing what he had said, she went rigid. The vase closest to her shattered with a loud crack, bursting into dozens of shards. She threw an icy glare at Perenelle. Victor noticed a slight ripple of magic around the girl and smiled.
— Stop teasing the poor girl, — Perenelle said with a sigh, waving her wand to clear the shards.
During breakfast, Adele, who had already been explained everything, couldn't bring herself to eat. she stared wide-eyed at the Flamels. Just yesterday they were a pair of sweet old people, and now, people in their prime sat before her.
— Adele, stop staring and eat, — Victor said, putting a pancake on her plate.
— They're over six centuries old... — the girl whispered in his ear, astonished.
— Yeah, yeah. Now eat. To become a true yandere, you need more strength; I mean, look at that performance earlier — you couldn't even scare anyone.
— What's a yandere? — she asked.
Nicolas raised an eyebrow with interest as well — it was the first time he had heard this strange word. Victor only smiled mysteriously, while Perenelle shook her head:
— It's a word from Japanese culture. Don't listen to him, you're nothing like that.
Victor mused.
— I'm not so sure. I think she could become an excellent yandere; she just needs to get a bit more insane. Although she's still young, there's still time.
— Are you serious right now? Do you want her to stab you in the middle of the night one day because you flirted with another girl?
— Hmm, obviously I don't want that, but for some reason, the thought is a little bit arousing.
— Victor! — Perenelle shot him a judgmental look.
— Don't look at me like that. I'm twelve; now when I walk into a shop, I sometimes start wondering if I should pick up a copy of Playboy.
Perenelle smirked at his honesty and didn't push the topic further.
— Is "incest" a Japanese word too? — Adele suddenly asked.
Nicolas immediately started coughing, choking on his tea.
— Well then, I think I'm full. As always, it was divinely delicious! — Victor politely wiped his mouth with a napkin and tried to stand up unnoticed.
— Stay right there! — Perenelle looked at him with a smile.
Victor instantly recognized that look. In his past life, his mother used to smile exactly like that, and it never boded well.
— Darling, where did you hear that word? — Perenelle asked Adele gently.
The girl looked at Victor, sensed she had asked something wrong, and replied in a perfectly calm tone:
— On the street. Someone in the crowd was discussing it.
Victor maintained outward composure, but inside he was literally jumping with joy, mentally applauding Adele. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Nicolas, recovering himself, looked at his wife:
— Are we expecting someone?
Perenelle shook her head:
— It's the Paris door. Strange.
— Muggles? I'll go see, maybe they have the wrong door, — Nicolas suggested.
— I'll check it myself, I'm already up anyway! — Victor shouted and bolted out of the kitchen, glad for the chance to escape.
When Victor opened the door, a young guy in a courier's cap was standing on the threshold.
— Hey there, kid. I've got a delivery. Any adults home? Need a signature.
Instead of answering, Victor silently took the box, which had small air holes on the sides, and for a second, caught the courier's gaze. A strange glint flashed in his eyes.
As soon as the door closed, the courier, as if in a trance, scribbled an illegible scrawl on the form himself. a moment later, he shook his head as if waking up and looked at the sheet and the tip money clutched in his hand with surprise.
— What polite people... — he muttered, smiling contentedly. — Right, where's next on the list?
Meanwhile, Victor locked the door and opened the box. Two pairs of button-eyes stared up at him — a tiny, snow-white kitten gave a timid squeak. Victor smirked and returned to the dining room.
— Who was it? — Nicolas asked, not looking up from his breakfast.
— Oh, someone left a kitten right on the doorstep, — Victor replied indifferently. — We'll feed it and put it back out. Maybe someone will adopt it. Unless, of course, the street dogs get to it first.
— NO! Don't! — Misi suddenly appeared in the dining room with a soft pop. Her huge eyes were full of terror. — Please, do not throw him out!
— Not throw him out? — Victor arched an eyebrow. — I don't know... If we keep it, someone will have to look after it, brush it, clean up...
— Misi will! Misi will do everything! Please, Master Moss!
Victor smirked and handed her the fluffy bundle.
— Fine, take it. It's your kitten now.
Misi froze; she threw a pleading look at Perenelle, who smiled and gave an encouraging nod. The elf carefully took the kitten and bowed low:
— Thank you, Master Moss! Misi will take care of him.
Victor just shook his head. He felt guilty for making her part with Crookshanks back then. Since then, the elf had been walking around sad, so he had called a Muggle pet shop and bought this kitten.
Nicolas stood up from the table.
— Well, time for me to get to work.
— I'm with you, — Victor responded immediately.
— And me? — Adele looked at him with a frown, displeased.
— You're doing quite well already. Today you'll practice on your own, — Victor replied.
The girl gave him a long look, then slowly turned to Perenelle.
— By the way... I heard the word "incest" from Victor.
Victor nearly tripped on level ground. Perenelle, maintaining a frighteningly polite smile, looked at him:
— Victor, dear, would you help me clear the table?
Adele said her thanks for breakfast and disappeared into the hallway with a smile.
An hour later, Victor went down to the workshop. Nicolas was already busily sketching something.
— What are you so happy about? I thought you were being executed up there, — the alchemist smirked.
— Oh, I got scolded. But for some reason, I still feel good, — Victor laughed. — You know, that little brat never ceases to amaze me; I'm becoming more and more proud of her. Taking her with me was one of the best decisions of my life. Anyway, enough sentiment. How's the production of my Sharingan coming along?
Nicolas became serious.
— It's not that simple. I have an idea, but these eyes will turn out too powerful. Are you sure you want to implant them into yourself? We could create some kind of weapon instead, keeping almost all the functions.
But Victor stubbornly shook his head and pointed to his eyes:
— No. They have to be here.
— I don't understand why you'd take such a risk. Yes, they'll make you faster, stronger, give you incredible reaction time... but the price could be too high.
— It's my dream, Nicolas. And I'm ready to bet everything on it.
Flamel sighed heavily. His rational side urged him to stop, but the creator's thrill was taking over — these eyes promised to be his second greatest masterpiece.
— Have you decided on the base material?
Nicolas nodded:
— The same material I used for the Philosopher's Stone.
— And what exactly is that material? — Victor asked.
Flamel shrugged:
— Honestly? I don't know.
Victor froze, puzzled:
— What do you mean, you don't know?
— I mean exactly that. I bought these crystals many centuries ago. They aren't like anything else in this world; they constantly absorb magic on an unthinkable scale. I haven't found a description of them in any grimoire. Perhaps they fell from space or leaked through from another dimension.
— So the whole secret of the Philosopher's Stone is just unusual raw material? And you just... touched it up a bit?
Nicolas flared up with indignation:
— "A bit"?! Do you have any idea the skill it takes to facet such chaos? One wrong move and all that accumulated power would burst out, wiping us off the face of the earth! It's like tinkering with a nuclear warhead using a rusty screwdriver! For seven years, I spent every day perfecting the inscription of runes. Seven years of repeating the same movements until my hands worked on autopilot!
Victor looked at his manic expression and gave a thumbs up.
— I am sincerely impressed. So, how much time will you need for my project?
— Are you trying to wind me up on purpose? — Flamel slumped tiredly into a chair. — Several months.
— That's acceptable.
— I still hope that by the time they're ready, you'll change your mind about the procedure.
— Stop being so dramatic. It's my choice, and if I die, it's my fault. You don't need to worry about me so much.
Nicolas looked at him grimly:
— Kid, you're confused. I don't give a damn if the world loses one overconfident fool. I'm afraid of what Perenelle will do to me if something happens to you. Believe me, you never want to face her wrath.
— Is it really that bad?
— Much worse. Sometimes I think that if it weren't for me, she would have become the greatest legend of the age herself. But instead, she always remains in my shadow.
Victor smirked:
— You think too highly of yourself, old man. She is a strong, cunning, and wise woman. She would never have allowed a man to suppress her ambitions. It was her choice. She doesn't need fame; she knows her own worth. Perenelle chose to be a loving wife, not another line in a history textbook.
Flamel smiled warmly, but then his face distorted with a look of suspicion:
— Wait... Stop admiring my wife so much! Do you have your eye on her? I'm warning you, stay away from her!
— Are you an idiot? I'm a child!
— So what? You'll grow up eventually!
Victor rolled his eyes:
— It seems the rejuvenation had a side effect — you've become too jealous.
— Yeah... sorry, — Nicolas exhaled. — Mentally, I'm six hundred years old. Yesterday my body was seventy, and today I'm thirty again. I need to get used to it.
— Are you having a midlife crisis? — Victor laughed.
— It's not a crisis. It's just that I see my wife — young and beautiful — and I still feel like an ancient wreck.
Victor shook his head, returning to the blueprints.
— Alright, let's get to work. Summer is ending; I'll be heading back to school soon. Let's not waste time.