Sterling's undisguised scrutiny seemed too obvious, making Vitam clench her fists.
Wasn't it reasonable for an alchemist to struggle with surprise attacks? If given intelligence and preparation time, let alone five undead trolls. Even ten. If she let them take a second breath, she'd be failing!
But Sterling wasn't wrong about one thing. She indeed wasn't someone who had "surpassed wizardly limits".
"This sample comes from my teacher... You certainly won't be unfamiliar with this name. Nicolas Flamel, the world's undisputed strongest alchemist."
Indeed, not unfamiliar at all. Not long ago, Sterling had discussed Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone with Dumbledore.
There were also those alchemy books. Sterling had never seen a preface that didn't mention him.
If it were him, not surpassing wizardly limits would be abnormal.
"So... Professor Vitam, your purpose in finding me is?"
"Regarding this, I think you'd be more willing to communicate with my mentor."
Vitam pulled out a mirror fragment. The moment it touched the table, it became liquid, covering the entire surface before solidifying into a smooth mirror.
Like at the office entrance, an image emerged from the mirror.
Sterling felt that Nicolas Flamel's line of alchemy particularly favoured mirror manifestations.
"Hello... Vitam... is the connection... working?"
The image appeared somewhat blurry, with rippling light occasionally crossing the mirror surface. The old man's face flickered within, with only a large white beard clearly visible.
"Wait, Teacher Nicolas, let me adjust this... The communication mirror might have been knocked during transport..."
Vitam bent down to fiddle with the mirror's side for a while. The surface became flat and smooth, finally clarifying the old man's features.
It was a pale-faced old man with a long beard tied with a purple bow. He wore velvet pyjamas while sitting in a massive recliner padded with thick black feathers.
"Hello, Sterling Page. Though this isn't our first meeting for me, you're probably seeing me for the first time."
His voice differed greatly from his appearance, as if rusty gears were stuck in his throat.
"Not your first meeting? Have you seen me before?"
Sterling leaned forward half his body, curious about this pinnacle of alchemy.
"Yes, when that Albus fellow first chatted with you, I was right there on his desk... Of course, as my photograph."
The old man playfully winked.
"Albus isn't honest, is he? Due to some youthful incidents, he must remain vigilant toward young geniuses... Of course, Albus's personality naturally dislikes revealing everything to people."
"I hope you won't feel disappointed or resentful toward Albus. Perhaps I can make some compensation for his concealment from you?"
In the old man's outstretched palm, something semi-transparent constantly twisted, occasionally forming various geometric shapes.
"Not to boast, but basically anything your imagination can conceive, I can create."
Such proud words! Sterling's interest peaked.
"I want a mountain-high black dragon! Is that possible too?"
"A dragon... would be hard to hide in England..." The old man stroked his beard. "I'll make one for you in Russia. Not living, but I guarantee it can do everything a living dragon can."
"I'll throw in some Russian land too, convenient for future magical experiments. It's sparsely populated there. Not only is land cheap, but hiding things isn't difficult either."
The old man's figure seemed suddenly gilded with golden light. What was that? So dazzling! Were those Galleons?
"No, no, that's too precious. I was just joking..." Sterling hastily waved his hands.
"Precious? Not really." The old man smiled until his eyes nearly closed. "Sterling, you must understand that for an old man who's lived over six hundred years, money ceased being an issue long ago."
"Not to mention I have a Philosopher's Stone that can turn stone to gold."
"Still no, Mr. Flamel." Sterling maintained his refusal, unable to accept such precious gifts when they barely knew each other.
"Actually, I don't blame Professor Dumbledore. I can understand the professor being reserved with me. I'm just a first-year student, unable to handle many things like adults. As long as there's no malicious deception, I can understand."
Just like Maleficent and Vivian. If Sterling hadn't discovered the truth himself, he'd still think he was travelling between fairy tale and real worlds.
They certainly concealed much from Sterling, hiding secrets even now, but Sterling believed their concealment was for his own good.
"Oh..." The old man's expression grew extremely gentle.
"No wonder Albus told me you're the finest child... Well, but surely you won't refuse an old man's Christmas gift? Don't worry, it won't be too expensive."
"Of course, Mr. Flamel. I'll reciprocate... But where should I send it?"
"Such a polite child!"
Nicolas Flamel clapped, and Sterling thought he heard something breaking.
"But perhaps you could give your gift to Albus. He'll pass it to me... Ordinary owls can't reach me now."
"Oh, right. Old age affects memory... I haven't told you why I had little Vitam find you, have I?"
The old man sat up from his recliner. Not by himself, but the feathers spontaneously formed a backrest supporting him.
The long-silent Vitam retrieved an obviously extraordinary box from her office drawer. The box was entirely black, wrapped in white cloth inscribed with Latin text.
A thick, long iron spike was nailed to the top.
"You might feel some... affinity for it?"
Sterling reached out. He could indeed sense the box's inexplicable attraction, as if a voice spoke in his heart.
Pick it up, open it!
"Yes... Mr. Flamel, I want to open it?"
"Oh, I knew I wasn't wrong!" The old man happily slapped his thigh. This time Sterling clearly heard bone breaking. Twice.
"Mr. Flamel! Your hand and leg seem broken!"
"Don't mind it!" The old man waved carelessly, his half-detached palm flopping limply in the air, making Sterling's heart race with alarm.
"This body has been used long enough. When it breaks beyond use, I'll just create another with the Philosopher's Stone. Don't worry."
"But this box. I don't know what's inside. I can't open it; I estimate you can't either now."
Nicolas Flamel had Vitam hand the box to Sterling. He tried. Indeed couldn't open it. The box seemed wholly integrated; even magic proved futile.
"Perhaps this box can be opened by you in the future..."
The old man lowered his eyes and yawned, as if telling a story.
"You probably know how I created the Philosopher's Stone... I had a dream where an angel told me I would receive a book to help me achieve immortality... Many records about me say this."
"But I never told anyone that besides The Book of Abraham, I also received a miraculous box."
The old man's voice grew lower, as if about to fall asleep.
"It belongs to you... When I first saw you with Albus, I was certain of this."