Sunrise in the French countryside was... different. The air was fresher, filled with the scent of vineyards stretching as far as the eye could see, birdsong mingling with the soft murmur of the wind among the hills.
During the first few days, Aurelian found himself immersed in an unexpected routine. He found himself living a quiet, mundane life alongside Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel.
Mornings usually began in the kitchen, where Perenelle prepared breakfast. Although she could do everything with magic, she insisted on kneading the bread by hand, stirring the pot with a spoon, and seasoning with fresh herbs that she picked herself from the garden. Aurelian watched her with some disbelief, but he soon understood that these gestures were part of who she was.
"Not everything has to be solved with magic and spells, dear," she said one morning, her hands still covered in flour. "Sometimes, the simplest things are what remind us of who we are."
Aurelian helped her without protest, surprised to discover that he enjoyed the aroma of bread coming out of the oven and bringing food to the table.
In the afternoons, he liked to explore. Nicolas guided him around the house and grounds, showing him the library, where he kept centuries of knowledge. There, Flamel showed himself to be a collector proud of his legacy and what he had built. Aurelian could spend hours leafing through books while Nicolas recounted his most curious anecdotes, always with an amused smile.
On more than one occasion, they ended up discussing magical theories, and although Nicolas rarely gave him direct answers, his questions forced Aurelian to rethink everything he knew.
In the evenings, the three of them would sit in the back garden. Perenelle would serve wine and sweets, while Nicolas talked about his travels, cities that had changed over the centuries, or forgotten magicians who were once important. Aurelian listened attentively, aware that he was not dealing with just a couple of old people.
The surprising thing was that, little by little, he began to feel comfortable. He found himself laughing at Perenelle's simple jokes, arguing with Nicolas about trivialities as if they were father and son, and enjoying the warmth of a home other than his own.
With each passing day, the Flamels also seemed more comfortable with him. Perenelle looked at him tenderly, gently correcting him when he didn't get enough rest or when he skipped a meal. Nicolas treated him with ill-concealed affection.
One afternoon, as the sun set and the sky turned orange, Aurelian found himself smiling without realizing it as Perenelle told him about flowers she had grown in her youth that no longer existed. It was a warm feeling.
"So... this is what it means to belong to a family," he thought, allowing himself to enjoy it in silence.
The days at the Flamel house continued. Aurelian quickly got used to the routine, although he couldn't help being surprised at how easy everything was turning out to be. There were no secrets, just a peaceful home.
One afternoon, for example, Perenelle surprised him by teaching him how to make strawberry jam. Aurelian, who normally spent his time perfecting his spells or magical theories, found himself laughing softly as he tried not to let the fruit turn sour when mixing it with sugar.
On another occasion, Nicolas took him for a walk among the vineyards at sunset. There, with the sky tinged with soft purple hues, the old alchemist told him how he had learned to listen to magic rather than master it.
"Magic is not a beast to be subdued," he said, touching a vine leaf delicately. "It is a river, and we are the ones who learn to swim in its waters. Forcing it will not allow you to reach the surface."
With each passing day, the three grew closer. The young man began to feel that the loneliness of his past life was easing, and that, even if only for a moment, he had something close to grandparents.
The library was silent, lit only by the golden light of enchanted candles. Aurelian was absorbed in a book on alchemy, while in the next room, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel conversed by the fire, with the ease of a couple who had shared too much of their lives together.
Perenelle, sitting in an armchair, let the needles of her knitting move by themselves while she watched the flames. Nicolas, reclining in front of her, gently twirled a glass of wine between his fingers.
"You know, Nicolas?" said Perenelle in a low voice, with a sigh, "I've never seen you so happy to teach a disciple."
The alchemist chuckled softly.
"I could say the same about you, my dear. We've been teaching young people for so many centuries, but none of them have touched us like this boy."
She nodded, letting the fire light up her face.
"We always wanted a child, remember? Over time, I learned to accept that this void would remain with us. However..." she smiled sweetly, "now I feel as if fate has sent us this child."
"A grandson," Nicolas replied softly. "That's how it feels."
Perenelle laughed, the warm laugh of someone who finds joy in the unexpected.
"The funny thing is, he didn't come to us seeking power or knowledge... He just wants to find his place in the world."
"Yes... although I don't think he'll admit it," Nicolas replied with a laugh, leaning forward. "Our previous disciples always had a fixed goal, an ambition ingrained in their bones. They never looked beyond that."
They both fell silent for a moment, remembering.
"Albus..." Perenelle murmured, lowering her gaze. "When he came to you, he had that hardened look in his eyes. It's not the same look I see in Aurelian now."
Nicolas sighed, his voice full of melancholy.
"I saw it in his eyes. Albus was determined to stop his friends, to end a path he had shared with them. Grindelwald, Marianne... that night, with Ariana... Everything he loved was tainted and destroyed by that tragedy."
Nicolas closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of memories were crushing him.
"It was after that fight that Albus came to me. He was desperate to repair what he had unleashed."
Perenelle put the needles aside and took her husband's hand tenderly.
"And yet, Albus found the strength to carry on. Despite all the pain he felt."
The alchemist squeezed his wife's hand affectionately.
"But... Aurelian is different. In him, I see an ambition woven from affection and fear of losing what he loves. He doesn't seek to shine, he only seeks to create a safe space in a world that was never kind to him."
Perenelle smiled, her eyes shining brightly, reflecting the fire.
"And that's why I'll take care of him as if he were my own. Because maybe in the end... in the end, fate gave us what we always wanted."
Nicolas laughed softly, accepting his wife's wish.
"Perhaps this child is not just our disciple..."
They both fell silent, smiling knowingly at each other. In the library, unaware of this, Aurelian turned the page of his book and felt a strange peace within him.
The sun was rising high over the French countryside when Aurelian stepped out into the backyard of the Flamel house. Nicolas was standing in the center, his hands behind his back, while Perenelle arranged a series of objects on a nearby table.
"Today we will truly begin," Nicolas announced calmly. "But we will not be alone. My wife will also participate in your training."
Aurelian raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing. He knew that Perenelle was no ordinary witch, but he never imagined that she would be an active part of his training.
Before Nicolas could add anything else, Perenelle turned to him with an inquiring smile.
"Before we begin, dear, I want to ask you a question."
Aurelian looked at her silently, expectantly.
"Why did you seek out my husband to teach you?" she asked softly. "What do you hope to find here, with us?"
The young man blinked, genuinely surprised.
"Seek him out?" he repeated, frowning. "I never sought him out. He forced me to be his disciple."
The answer fell like thunder in the garden. Nicolas blushed, looking away like a child caught in mischief. He was about to respond when Perenelle raised her hand firmly.
"Silence, Nicolas," she said, looking at him seriously.
The alchemist obeyed without protest, though his lips curled into a resigned grimace.
Aurelian didn't know how to react. The scene was as absurd as it was strangely warm, one of the most famous and powerful magicians in the world being scolded by his wife.
Perenelle couldn't contain her laughter. It started as a slight chuckle, but soon she was laughing almost to tears, covering her mouth elegantly.
"Oh, heavens!" she exclaimed between laughs. "Fate definitely sent you to us. There's no other explanation."
Aurelian stood still, watching her in disbelief and confusion. All he could think to do was nod with a smile.
Perenelle knew, without needing further proof, that this boy was no longer just a disciple. Perhaps he would be the son she never had, one that fate had finally given her.
Perenelle's laughter gradually faded, although the spark of joy remained in her eyes.
Nicolas stepped forward.
"It's time," Nicolas said, his voice deeper, each word echoing through the room. "You've rested, you've eaten, and you've shared with us. Now you'll see what it means to train with the Flamels."
Perenelle accompanied him, standing by his side. She was no longer the sweet grandmother who offered you homemade food; she was an imposing sorceress whose gaze could pierce the soul.
"This won't be easy, dear," she warned gently, though the seriousness of her tone made it clear she meant business. "But nothing worthwhile ever is."
Aurelian straightened his back, his eyes shining with determination.
"I'm ready."
Nicolas raised a hand, and the runes on the ground lit up with a golden glow. Stone figures began to rise in the practice circle, taking on human forms armed with spears and swords. The air vibrated with force as the garden transformed into a battlefield.
Perenelle snapped her fingers, and the stone columns around them lit up with green flames, marking the boundaries of the training area.
"Welcome to your training, boy," Nicolas said with a smile. "Here we will see what you are made of."
Aurelian took a deep breath, feeling every fiber of his body tense with anticipation.
Thus, between the warmth of home and the harshness of training, a new stage in his journey began.
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