The paper crane fluttered down, gently dropping a rolled-up piece of yellowed parchment into Milosan's hand before vanishing completely.
Milosan untied the string, unrolled the parchment, and placed it flat on the table in front of Richie.
"Translation Charm."
Raising her wand, she cast the spell directly over the document.
"This will help you read the text. Of course, if anything still doesn't make sense, just ask."
Richie focused his attention on the parchment.
Originally written in elegant French script, the words began to shift and dance under the magic, slowly morphing into English.
But it didn't stop there. A few seconds later, the English letters folded into characters.
"Cool."
Richie raised an eyebrow. It had been a long time since he'd seen his native language, and honestly, it took a second to get used to it again.
He settled in and began to read.
"When students begin asking me why they cannot reach my level of mastery, I know it is time for me to leave Beauxbatons."
"Before I go, I feel I must leave something else behind. Thus, this manuscript—To the Beginner."
"To answer that student's question: Why can you not reach my level?"
"I will tell you this: It is because you are constantly trying to imitate me. But long before this, I had already begun imitating the world—a mentor far older and more ancient than any living existence."
"The essence of alchemy is not creation. It is using the mind as a mirror to reflect the inherent truths of the universe."
"Alchemical symbols condense in the space between the stars and a heartbeat. Alchemical formulas align within the scorching heat of sulfur and the steady flow of quicksilver."
"I saw this. And so, I began to imitate."
Nicolas Flamel's words weren't cryptic or heavily academic. Instead, it felt like a wise, old man whispering in your ear, explaining the most grounded, fundamental truths of alchemy in the simplest way possible.
Completely engrossed, Richie quickly reached the final passage.
"The world often views alchemy as a shackle that imprisons the soul, entirely unaware that it is actually an ancient bronze key meant to unlock the world's deepest secrets."
"Though, admittedly, it is just one of millions of keys."
"Perhaps it lacks the elegance of poetry. Perhaps it lacks the enchanting allure of an astrolabe."
"But I will continue to carefully look through it, peering into the very fabric of this world."
"— Nicolas Flamel"
Finishing the manuscript, Richie let out a long, slow breath.
The sheer, profound impact of those words was hard to describe.
"Finished? What do you think?" Milosan asked, smiling warmly.
Richie nodded, genuinely moved. "Master Flamel was an incredibly wise man."
Hearing that, Annabelle just shook her head.
"Wise, sure. But he was way too detached from normal wizards like us."
"He left behind thousands of those manuscripts, and every single third-year elective student at Beauxbatons suffers through his 'wisdom'."
Milosan chuckled at Annabelle's complaint.
"Richie, if you're seriously interested, I still have my old alchemy textbooks and notes in my office. You can borrow them."
She winked at him. "Who knows? They might actually help you wrap your head around it."
Richie hesitated for a second, then nodded.
He really was interested. Since he was stuck in France for the next few days anyway, he might as well dive in and see what it was all about.
That sparked a thought, reminding him of what Milosan had said before the duel.
"Oh, right. About my access to the Beauxbatons Library...?"
"I still need to discuss that with Madam Mantha," Milosan replied. "I'll probably have an answer for you a bit later."
Richie nodded, completely understanding. He was an outsider; it made perfect sense they'd be cautious about handing over restricted access.
"Come on. Let's head to my office and grab those books."
At Milosan's signal, Richie and Annabelle stood up and walked out of the library.
Behind them, the paper crane reappeared, scooped up the parchment, and returned it to the shelves. The massive blue petals slowly folded inward, reverting back into a tightly closed bud.
Beauxbatons Castle, Third Floor: Transfiguration Professor's Office
The office was highly practical and minimalist. There wasn't much personal flair or flashy decor, just a faint, pleasant fragrance lingering in the air.
"This is my office. After classes, you can usually find me here," Milosan said, taking a seat behind her desk.
"Not bad. Didn't expect you to actually score your own office," Annabelle teased.
She casually picked up a small glass bottle from the desk, noticing the tiny emblem on it. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh, wow. This is the pear-wood perfume I gave you at graduation. I can't believe you kept the bottle."
"Of course I did. It's been my absolute favorite scent ever since," Milosan said, a hint of complaint in her voice. "It's a shame you can't buy it anywhere. I even wrote to you asking for more, but the batches you sent back never smelled the same."
Annabelle just shrugged.
"I literally followed the exact same formula. You probably just cried so hard at graduation that it permanently messed up your sense of smell."
"Maybe," Milosan replied, not bothering to argue.
Instead, she raised her wand and flicked it toward the massive bookcase behind her.
Instantly, the shelves slid open like drawers. Two massive, incredibly thick books flew out and landed with a heavy thud on her desk.
"Here is the Ancient Runes Dictionary and the third-year Beauxbatons textbook, Simple Alchemy," Milosan said. "They have my old notes inside. Take a look."
Richie stared at the two behemoth books, his mouth twitching.
The thinner one—Simple Alchemy—was already thicker than all of his first-year Hogwarts textbooks stacked together.
And the Ancient Runes Dictionary was easily one and a half times thicker than that!
Did Beauxbatons third-years really survive this much academic pressure?
Beside him, Annabelle chimed in.
"Milosan was one of the very few people in our year to actually score an 'E' in Alchemy."
"Honestly, if 'Red Nose' wasn't still kicking around, she's more than qualified to take over as the Alchemy professor. You'd better thank her properly, Richie."
Hearing that, Richie immediately offered his sincere thanks.
Milosan sighed, waving off the praise.
"You're exaggerating, Annabelle. Alchemy isn't just about grades. Honestly, my skills barely scratch the surface of the basics."
She shot Annabelle a warning look. "And stop calling Professor Mote that. He'd be furious if he heard you."
Annabelle leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and looked entirely unbothered.
"He's not going to hear me. Plus, I graduated years ago. What's he gonna do, give me detention?"