Chapter 88. Nicolas Flamel
When the opera ended and people began to file out one after another.
"This is a decent ending, isn't it?"
Only then did Adrian realise that, at some point, an elderly man had appeared in the once-empty seat beside him.
Perhaps because he had been absorbed in the performance, Adrian hadn't even noticed.
"Of course, sir."
Adrian replied offhandedly, then looked at him.
However, when he took in the man's appearance, Adrian paused.
It was an old man with grey-white hair and deep wrinkles etched into his face; he looked very old.
Yet his eyes were strikingly bright, nothing like the gaze of someone in his twilight years.
Almost in an instant, a name rose in Adrian's mind.
Nicolas Flamel.
The legendary alchemist, maker of the Philosopher's Stone.
While Adrian was still frozen, Nicolas gave him a friendly smile and said, "Did you enjoy tonight's opera? It's not common to see a young wizard taking in an opera alone—they prefer performances from the wizarding world."
Perhaps because he rarely encountered wizards in such places, Nicolas had actually taken the initiative to strike up a conversation.
Adrian came back to himself and replied, "My German isn't very good; there were parts I didn't even understand what was being said. But I think the music alone is enough to move the heart."
The wrinkles at the corners of Nicolas's eyes eased, as if pleased by Adrian's answer. He laughed and said, "Ah, yes, it seems you've begun to grasp the charm of this kind of performance. It's well worth coming specially to enjoy it, isn't it?"
"In fact," Adrian smiled, then said, "this performance isn't the reason I came to Paris."
Nicolas looked a little surprised and said, "Then you've come at just the right time. The Magic Flute isn't staged here all that often."
"I'm here to find you, Mr Nicolas Flamel," Adrian said sincerely.
In front of a man several hundred years old, it was better to be honest.
Hearing his own name from a stranger, Nicolas paused for a moment.
He had been the one to start the conversation—so why did the young man look as though he had come expressly to seek him out?
"Hmm…" Nicolas thought for a moment, then asked, "Are you a Seer? How did you find me?"
Adrian shook his head and said, "No—Felix Felicis, sir. I don't do Divination; I only borrowed a bit of luck."
"Luck?" Nicolas waved a hand, dismissive. "Luck can't carry a person to the side of a complete stranger, child."
By now, almost everyone had left the opera house.
A ticket inspector in uniform came walking down the aisle.
"Gentlemen," the inspector's voice carried a professional weariness, "the performance is over."
Nicolas Flamel rose to his feet slowly.
Adrian noticed that, with the old man's movement, the inspector's eyes suddenly went vacant, as if struck by the Confundus Charm.
"Of course, we'll be on our way," Nicolas replied gently, giving Adrian a meaningful glance.
The two of them went outside and casually found a couple of chairs to sit on nearby.
"You cast magic on that man?" Adrian couldn't help asking.
"Perhaps," Nicolas shrugged, blinking mischievously. "I'm guessing you, like me, didn't buy a ticket."
"You're right," Adrian replied, then continued where they had left off. "And there's something else—I recognised you, Mr Flamel."
"Plenty of people know me," Nicolas said carelessly. "Lots of people want to find me, but very few manage it."
"I'm honoured to be one of them," Adrian said with a smile.
Hearing Adrian's reply, Nicolas put away his kindly smile and grew serious, asking, "Then… why have you come to me? The Philosopher's Stone? The Elixir of Life? Or alchemy?"
Although Adrian was interested in those as well, that was clearly not why he had sought out Nicolas.
Adrian slowly shook his head and said, "It's something recent—about my family. They brought along a girl who hasn't woken from a coma. They said they met you in this area, and you spoke with them for a while."
Nicolas thought for a moment, then suddenly understood. "Ah, that child. Forgive an old man's memory; I need a moment to recall… Ariana—was that the name?"
With Nicolas's confirmation, Adrian felt a weight lift inside.
The person his parents had encountered really was Nicolas Flamel.
In that case, the claim that his sister's coma was due to soul damage now carried a certain credibility.
"She's my younger sister," Adrian nodded. "I came to ask you some questions about her."
Upon learning why Adrian had come, Nicolas set aside his severity and became gentle again. "But of course, child. I'm happy to answer your questions—it's nothing at all. I still remember your sister's face—she's a lovely girl. Your parents are good people, too. They saw I was coughing and gave me a bottle of cough draught."
"About my sister's illness…" Adrian said slowly, "you said her soul was torn—was that true?"
Nicolas sighed and said, "I don't know. But what I can be certain of is that your sister's soul is missing a piece. About three hundred years ago, I met a wizard who had likewise been struck by the Cruciatus Curse, and he suffered the same symptoms as your sister—he fell into a coma rather than going mad."
Living long broadens one's experience; Adrian felt a pang of awe.
"Then… did that wizard ever wake up?" he asked quickly.
Nicolas slowly shook his head. "No. The soul is taboo for wizards—once it involves the soul, everything becomes complicated. When the soul is missing a piece, you must find a way to patch it. That's not something just anyone can do."
Patch the soul?
Adrian couldn't help thinking of the leaf that had fallen from the Tree of Wisdom; its description had been "it bears pure soul power."
He wondered whether it might be effective for his sister's condition.
"I understand," Adrian said gravely, nodding. "Thank you very much, Mr Nicolas Flamel."
"You're welcome," Nicolas smiled slightly, then went on, "That's all I know; as for what to do, I've no idea."
Adrian looked around. Night had fully fallen.
"I must be going, sir."
"Goodbye."
Nicolas raised a hand and waved, smiling as he said, "And don't tell anyone where I've been. I don't want my retirement disturbed."
After saying farewell to Nicolas, Adrian realised he'd forgotten to explain things to his mother when he left.
By his reckoning, in New York it would only just be getting dark.
Mm, still in time for supper.
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