The blood surged, boiling fiercely, until the entire Great Hall echoed with the gurgling sound of simmering liquid.
Even the anguished screams of Tiffany, writhing beneath the bowl, could not drown out this seething roar.
A sinister red light flared, bathing the hall in a crimson glow.
Before long, the blood rising from the bowl began to coalesce, forming the ethereal silhouette of a figure with six wings.
"My lord."
Tom bowed deeply, his posture reverent.
"You have done well, my faithful servant."
The figure's voice came in fits and starts, as if the connection were faltering.
"However, one final step remains to unlock the sealed gates of Hell…"
"Speak, my lord," Tom said, bowing again.
The figure raised a hand, and a beam of red light shot forth, striking Tom's forehead.
"This is the ritual circle you must draw, Tom," the figure said. "Once you open the gates of Hell in the New World, you may begin gathering the items I require to break my father's seal upon me."
"Yes, my lord," Tom replied.
Hogwarts, Nicolas Flamel's Alchemical Workshop.
For today's summoning ritual, they had spared no effort in their preparations.
Mr. Flamel had not only provided rare materials to summon Death itself but had even taken it upon himself to draw the ritual circle.
Once everything was ready, Flamel nodded to those around him. At the same moment, Dumbledore reached into the bowl, took a handful of leaves, and scattered them at the circle's center.
"Begin," Dumbledore said.
Flamel, cradling an enormous tome, began chanting the incantations required to summon Death.
The ritual circle gradually glowed.
The light grew ever brighter until, at last, it erupted in a blinding flash, forcing everyone present to shield their eyes instinctively.
After a moment, the radiance faded.
"Did it work?" Newt asked, craning his neck.
He looked toward the center of the circle, only to find it empty.
Not only was there no figure, but even the chair prepared for Death had vanished.
Flamel lowered his gaze to the book, meticulously comparing the incantations he had recited with those written. He thought perhaps a mistake had been made, but after careful scrutiny, he found no errors.
"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Flamel.
Flamel frowned, glancing at Dumbledore, then at Newt.
At that moment, Harry burst through the door.
"How did it go?" he asked. "Was the summoning successful?"
"Clearly not, Potter," Cassandra said with a dismissive wave. "We failed."
"How could this happen?" Harry said, pushing his glasses up. "Wasn't this method recorded in ancient texts? Could there be an error in the book?"
"Perhaps," Flamel said, setting the tome down and addressing Harry. "But based on the ritual's response, it didn't feel like a failure. We likely summoned something, but it didn't remain within the circle."
"Revelio!"
Harry raised his wand, and the spell's glow swept through the room, revealing nothing out of the ordinary.
"Perhaps we used the wrong method," Flamel mused after a moment. "I can't shake the feeling that we missed a critical step, which is why the summoning failed… Wait, let me think carefully about how we might complete the ritual…"
"What do we do now?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, my boy," Flamel said, addressing Dumbledore in a way that made everyone in the room cringe slightly. "What you all need to do now is leave this place and return to your homes."
My boy?
Harry and Veratia exchanged a glance, silently scoffing.
To be fair, though, in Flamel's eyes, Dumbledore was a mere boy.
After all, when Flamel had been Dumbledore's age, the Eastern Roman Empire still stood, and Constantinople had yet to fall to the Urbain cannons.
Since Flamel had spoken, the group had no choice but to disperse.
"I'll head back to the Muggle world, then," Veratia said to Harry. "If there's any news, send word to me promptly."
"Sometimes it's hard to track you down, you know, since you've got classes," Harry said, spreading his hands.
Veratia suddenly remembered a new gadget she'd seen in the Muggle world. She reached into her bag, pulled it out, and handed it to Flamel.
"Mr. Flamel," she said, holding up a long, black telephone. "This is a mobile phone, a kind of Muggle communication device. It allows real-time contact across distances—look, and it's highly portable…"
The phone in Veratia's hand was none other than the iconic Motorola 3200.
Released in 1989, the phone had clear strengths and weaknesses.
Its primary advantage was portability—though it had another, less obvious feature: in a pinch, it could double as a makeshift bludgeon.
Flamel took the phone, examining it curiously before asking, "How does this work?"
"Like this," Veratia said, producing her own phone. "There's no signal at Hogwarts, but if you use it, you can dial my number, and we can communicate instantly through this device…"
"Oh, you mean this," Flamel said.
He turned and retrieved his own invention—a crystal ball computer.
"Here," he said, handing one to Veratia and another to Harry.
The two accepted their respective crystal balls, and Flamel continued, "Now, place your hands on them and channel your magic into them."
Following his instructions, they did so.
"Harry," Flamel said, "hold the crystal ball, channel your magic, and think about wanting to speak with Miss Grindelwald."
Harry nodded, clutching the crystal ball. As he infused it with magic, he focused on wanting to communicate with Veratia.
A moment later, an image of Harry appeared on Veratia's crystal ball, grinning foolishly, his scar starkly visible.
"This is another use for the computer," Flamel said with a chuckle. "It's not exactly portable—I know the crystal ball is a bit heavy—but I've long considered this instant communication function. So, Miss Grindelwald, tap Harry's head to accept the call—or you can simply think about accepting it."
Veratia reached out and tapped the scar on Harry's forehead.
Sure enough, the image flickered, transforming into Harry holding his crystal ball.
"Blimey, it changed!" Harry exclaimed.
At the same time, the Harry on Veratia's crystal ball echoed, "Blimey, it changed!"
"See," Flamel said with a grin, "I believe wizarding methods have their merits. No need to envy the Muggles, wouldn't you agree?"
"It's a brilliant solution, but…" Veratia hesitated. "What if I'm in the Muggle world? Say I'm in class, and Harry sends a message. I can't exactly carry a crystal ball around…"
Flamel gave Veratia an exasperated look.
He stepped forward with small, deliberate steps and tapped her crystal ball.
Miraculously, it transformed into an exact replica of the Motorola 3200.
"You're a witch, aren't you?" Flamel said sardonically. "Shouldn't we solve this with wizarding methods? A simple Transfiguration, for instance—"
"You're right," Veratia said, accepting his critique with a smile. She took the transformed phone, held it, and silently wished to speak with Harry. Just as before, her image appeared on Harry's crystal ball.
"So, I think these multifunctional crystal balls could fetch a high price," Flamel said, shifting to business. "I'm not getting any younger, and you wouldn't want an old man toiling away crafting these for you lot, would you? So… if you want a crystal ball, you'll need to trade rare alchemical materials…"
"That's only fair," everyone agreed.
Flamel, however, was privately troubled. Even his centuries-old collection couldn't withstand the astronomical rate of consumption lately. If he didn't replenish his stores soon, they'd be depleted in days.
He was starting to regret faking his death and distributing his treasures all those years ago.
"Those alchemical materials are of little use to me," Newt said, stepping forward. "So… I'd like to return them to you, Mr. Flamel, in exchange for three crystal balls… no, six."
"Six?" Flamel asked, intrigued. "What for?"
"Well," Newt explained, "besides Tina and myself, Theseus needs one. He's at Nurmengard watching Grindelwald, and we need to stay in touch sometimes… And Aunt Poppy needs one, too. Then there's Queenie and Jacob. Merlin's beard, the last time I saw Jacob, he was so old he could barely move, but still full of spirit…"
"Of course he's spirited," Flamel said with a knowing smile. "Very well, then…"
Flamel shuffled over, picked up his wand, and levitated a small case containing six crystal balls.
"Here are your crystal balls," he said. "I trust you remember how to use them. But a word of caution: Jacob's a Muggle, so he can't activate the wizarding version. I've included one that even a Muggle can use—it's the slightly larger one."
"Thank you, Mr. Flamel," Newt said gratefully.
"No need to look at me, Mr. Flamel," Veratia said preemptively. "My vault's been cleaned out by Gellert. All I've got left is my diadem. The Galleons and alchemical materials are long gone…"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Flamel said with a chuckle. "You, Harry… and Miss Malfoy, the three of you get them for free…"
Harry was baffled. Why would Flamel not charge him?
Of course, he'd never guess that, to Flamel, the amusement the trio provided was worth more than any treasure.
Since meeting them, Flamel had found life far more entertaining.
Just then, a blinding light flashed through the alchemical workshop.
The room began to tremble violently.
"Careful!" Veratia shouted, drawing her wand, ready for combat.
Harry did the same, scanning the room warily for the source of the disturbance.
The workshop continued to shake, the enchanted ceiling lights swaying wildly.
A powerful magical surge erupted, spreading through the entire room.
Then, the wave burst outward, rippling in all directions.
The Forbidden Forest, closest to Flamel's workshop, bore the brunt of the magical shockwave. Trees toppled uniformly in the direction of the blast.
In an instant, every tree in the forest, including the Whomping Willow at its edge, shed their leaves.
Within seconds, the forest looked as desolate as midwinter, reduced to bare branches and withered foliage.
Inside the workshop, the group was still recovering from the magical surge.
A sudden realization struck Harry.
"Could it be Death?" he asked.
At his words, everyone's hearts skipped a beat.
Who else could wield such terrifyingly potent magic?
"Perhaps she's already here," Dumbledore said. "Just now, in that small room, I had… a premonition. I'm certain she's inside."
"Then let's go see," Harry suggested. "If we've summoned her, it's only polite to meet her."
"I hope you're aware of the danger, poor little Potter," Cassandra said, throwing her hands up. "Or are you going to let your foolish courage send you hurtling back another century?"
"If there's danger, no amount of running will save us," Harry replied.
With that, he strode toward the room adorned with the symbols for summoning Death.
"He's got a point," Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow. He followed Harry toward the small room.
--
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