Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy

"I actually feel a bit sorry for Gellert right now," Harry sighed.

It wasn’t because of anything else—people’s preferences were their own business, and Gellert wasn’t his brother. He simply felt sorry for the storm of fury that Gellert was about to face.

It was easy to imagine just how enraged Veratia would be upon hearing these two pieces of news…

Hopefully, portraits don’t faint from anger like people do…

Mr. Flamel set down his wine glass and asked in confusion, "Why? This is the modern era, after all. You’re not more old-fashioned than someone like me, who was born in the 14th century, are you?"

"Oh, no, it’s not that—" Harry organized his thoughts before saying, "It’s actually a bit of a long story. In the secret chamber within the Marauder’s Map at Hogwarts, I saw Veratia’s portrait…"

"A portrait?" Flamel repeated. "You mean—a portrait?!"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "Veratia’s portrait told me that she was trapped in Slytherin’s study and needed several materials to break the frozen time spell…"

"Angel’s feather, phoenix tear, dragon heart, and basilisk fang," the two of them said in unison.

"Huh?" Harry suddenly realized something. "How do you know exactly what the materials are?!"

"Because it was I who taught Miss Grindelwald this time magic," Flamel shook his head. "I even warned her at the time that there might be unknown consequences, but she insisted on seeking you out…"

"Hmm." Harry nodded, then added, "In Knockturn Alley, I already managed to buy the phoenix tear and the dragon heart. Veratia said that she has some angel feathers stored in her Gringotts vault and told me to retrieve them."

"That’s not bad." Flamel nodded. "Speaking of which, those angel feathers were actually a gift from me—did you retrieve them?"

"That’s the problem." Harry patted his leg in frustration. "When I got to Gringotts, the millions of Galleons in the vault, along with all kinds of alchemical materials, had already been withdrawn by Gellert in 1899. The only things left inside were a single Knut and a coronet…"

"What did you say?" Flamel’s eyes widened. "Oh… no wonder, no wonder—I was wondering…"

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"No wonder Gellert was able to rapidly build up an organization called the ‘Magifascist Party.’ Back then, Albus and I were both curious about where he got the money… Turns out he stole from his sister’s vault." Flamel chuckled despite himself.

"So," Harry sighed, "I can already imagine Veratia’s reaction once she gets out of Slytherin’s study—just think about it. All the wealth she painstakingly seized from the Ashwinder gang and poachers—gone. The Grindelwald family—extinct. And most importantly, Gellert himself… uh."

"Alas~" Flamel sighed in mourning.

"Alas," Harry echoed, nodding.

"Oh, right," Harry suddenly said, "I remember you mentioned earlier that Veratia’s angel feathers originally came from you?"

"Yes." Flamel nodded, then sighed regretfully. "Unfortunately, I don’t have any left. The last of them were taken by Albus a few days ago."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked in surprise. "Why did he take them?"

"Oh," Flamel said, "I’ve already decided—I’ll be joyfully embracing death in the near future."

Harry suddenly recalled that Professor Dumbledore had once told him that the Sorcerer’s Stone was an essential ingredient in Flamel’s Elixir of Life.

"Is it because of the Sorcerer’s Stone, Mr. Flamel?" he asked guiltily.

He was beginning to regret it. If he had known that absorbing the Sorcerer’s Stone meant the deaths of two elderly people, he would rather have waited a few years or found another solution…

"Good child, you don’t need to feel guilty." Flamel chuckled. "Believe me, I’ve lived long enough—if you had lived for six hundred years, you’d be just as weary. Day after day, eating food that has no taste, feeling your body rust like an old machine… living like this really isn’t meaningful. It’s far better to embrace death early."

"As Albus puts it, ‘For the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure’… He says it all the time. I can tell he doesn’t fear death—he’s even actively embracing it."

"So," Flamel continued, "I gave away most of the things I had at home—to Albus, to Newt… everyone got a little parting gift from me. If you need angel feathers, you might as well ask Albus for help. After all, he is your junior."

Seeing Harry’s troubled expression, Flamel leaned in closer and whispered, "Don’t tell Albus, but this is actually his way of trying to teach you a lesson—he wants me to show you, through action, that immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. However, what I won’t tell anyone else is that I still have enough Elixir of Life stored away that, if Perenelle and I wanted, we could easily live another six hundred years."

"Really?" Harry forced a smile.

"Of course—it’s true. Perenelle and I ‘die’ once every hundred years." Flamel chuckled. "But I don’t usually share that with just anyone."

"So don’t worry about the Sorcerer’s Stone. Even if the Elixir of Life runs out, you can always lend me a bit of your magic to help me make more." Flamel reassured him again. "Go find Albus, child."

Since Flamel had put it that way, Harry felt relieved. It seemed he had now become a walking Sorcerer’s Stone.

However, he wasn’t sure what to do next. After all this running around, was he really going to have to seek out the Headmaster’s help?

"But," Harry voiced his concern, "Professor Dumbledore was the one who personally locked Gellert away. What if he doesn’t believe Veratia? Or worse, what if he thinks Veratia will take revenge for Gellert, or that she wants to complete Gellert’s unfinished business…"

"Don’t worry, child." Flamel smiled kindly. "Albus isn’t the kind of person you think he is. He will help you."

Harry still had his doubts.

It wasn’t that he thought Professor Dumbledore would harm him—after all, what happened at the end of last term had proven that Dumbledore meant him no ill will.

But what about Veratia?

The moment Veratia became involved, Harry couldn’t help but overthink things.

Forcing a smile, he asked, "Mr. Flamel, do you know where I might find a basilisk fang?"

"That’s something I haven’t seen in a long time," Flamel admitted. "The last time I saw a basilisk in person was in 1453, during the fall of Constantinople. When Constantine XI was besieged, he released a basilisk in an attempt to stop the Ottoman advance…"

"That long ago?" Harry frowned. "And what happened to the basilisk?"

"It barely got past the Gate of St. Romanus before being taken down by a weapon called the ‘Orban Bombard,’" Flamel answered. Then he added, "But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people illegally breeding them. A few years ago, someone was arrested for keeping a basilisk—it happened in Tsarist Russia. Apparently, a mystic named Rasputin was raising one, hoping to use its bile as an aphrodisiac."

"And what happened?" Harry asked. "Did he get bitten to death by the basilisk?"

"No," Flamel said. "He drowned."

Harry opened his mouth, hesitated, and then asked, "Drowned? How does a wizard drown?"

"He was poisoned—ate eight pieces of cake laced with potassium cyanide and drank an entire bottle of Madeira wine spiked with the same poison," said Mr. Flamel. "But that amount of poison wasn’t enough to harm him. However, a Muggle shot him from behind, piercing his lung and even grazing his heart... When everyone thought he was dead, he suddenly sprang up and strangled one of the Muggles. Then, he was shot three more times—one bullet hit his head, yet he still didn’t die."

"The Muggles then used a piece of exercise equipment called a dumbbell to bash his head repeatedly, finally knocking him unconscious. In the end, they threw him into a frozen river. After a while, he drowned while still in a coma."

Hearing this, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of respect.

This guy... was an absolute legend.

"I think you should come to Hogwarts and be a History of Magic professor, Mr. Flamel," Harry sincerely invited. "The way you tell history is far more entertaining than Professor Binns."

"I graduated from Beauxbatons, you know. Besides, Hogwarts doesn’t need to pay Professor Binns a salary," Mr. Flamel said with a chuckle.

A question mark popped up in Harry’s mind.

Wait… is that even allowed?

Isn’t that basically exploiting a ghost?

"By the way," Harry continued, finally noticing Poppy curled up on the floor, blending into the background like a stealthy cosplayer. "There's another matter I’d like to ask your help with—my friend here. Can you turn her back into a human?"

Mr. Flamel walked over to Poppy, meeting her pleading gaze before casting a spell on her head.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Mr. Flamel said as he returned to his seat. "Even I have no way to undo this—at least, not at the moment."

Harry looked disappointed and gently patted Poppy’s head with sympathy.

"It’s okay, Harry," Poppy beamed up at him, her eyes curving with cheer. "Being a unicorn isn’t so bad—just like you said, I’m going to be the first unicorn board member at Hogwarts! Ah-woo!"

Harry sighed.

"Well then, let’s eat first." Mr. Flamel stood up and invited Harry to the table. "I imagine you and Miss Sweeting must be hungry by now."

"Hooray!" Poppy cheered. "Time to eat!"

Mr. Flamel’s wife, Perenelle Flamel, looked just as frail as he did—like she could be toppled over by a gust of wind.

Fortunately, their household was managed by four house-elves, so there was no concern about them being unable to handle daily tasks.

Perenelle kept urging Harry to eat more, even serving him a second helping.

Harry originally didn’t want to overeat, but seeing how the elderly woman’s hands trembled as she served him, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her kindness.

Sometimes, he wondered—having eaten so much at the Weasley household and now in France as well, would he eventually end up looking like his cousin Dudley? The kind of chubby where his butt cheeks would spill over the edges of the chair...

The thought alone was terrifying. Harry shook his head, banishing the image of a wig-wearing pig from his mind.

After spending a day at the Flamel residence, Harry prepared to take his leave.

He had learned everything he needed—Mr. Flamel had no knowledge of where to obtain a Basilisk’s fang, and the Angel’s Feather was currently in Professor Dumbledore’s possession.

If he wanted to rescue Veratia from Slytherin’s study, it seemed he would have to discuss things properly with Professor Dumbledore.

Just as he was about to leave, Mr. Flamel suddenly called out to him.

"Harry, I suggest you leave Miss Sweeting here for a while," Mr. Flamel said. "I may not have a solution, but I can at least help regulate her condition. After all, being a Magus Animagus takes a serious toll on the body."

"Huh?" Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately grabbed Poppy’s horn in concern. "Poppy, are you hiding something from me?"

"Nope!" Poppy grinned and nuzzled Harry’s face. "Maybe Voldemort’s old curse wasn’t completely removed—"

"Really?" Harry cast a detection spell but found nothing unusual.

"Don’t worry, Harry. You go on ahead and come back for me in a few days." Poppy bounced twice, happily saying, "Ah, thanks for caring about me!"

"Alright then." Seeing no abnormal results from the spell, Harry reluctantly put his doubts aside. "Mr. Flamel, are you sure Poppy will be okay?"

"You have my word," Mr. Flamel reassured him.

Since Mr. Flamel had said so, Harry could only nod. "Alright, I’ll come back in a few days to pick you up, Poppy."

"Got it!" Poppy swayed her head joyfully.

Harry took one last glance at Poppy. After setting a date with Mr. Flamel to return, he stepped out the door and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

After Harry left, the atmosphere in Flamel’s alchemy chamber turned still.

"Miss Sweeting," Mr. Flamel spoke softly. "You do realize that ghosts cannot eat, don’t you? Even if you’ve taken the form of a unicorn, it only puts an unnecessary strain on your body."

Poppy lay down on the ground again.

A moment later, a beautiful young girl wearing a Hufflepuff uniform appeared where the unicorn had been.

"I know." Poppy lifted her face, a bright smile gracing her delicate features. "It’s just... Harry likes watching me eat."

"But tell me, how did you figure out I was a ghost?" Poppy twirled around lightly, as agile as a deer flitting through the woods.

"Never underestimate the instincts of an alchemist, Miss Sweeting," Mr. Flamel replied.

"You have a keen and discerning eye." Poppy smiled at him.

Mr. Flamel sighed. "I sincerely advise you to stop eating. I will try some methods to stabilize your ghostly form… But tell me, why did you choose to become a Magus Animagus?"

"A Magus Animagus, huh?" Poppy chuckled, her gaze drifting into reminiscence. "Well, Veratia is a brilliant witch—she always finds a way. Cassandra comes from an esteemed family with no shortage of treasures… And me? Well, I wanted to be like them. I found a book in the Restricted Section that said unicorns live long lives. So I thought, if I became a Magus Animagus unicorn, maybe I could hold on until Harry came back."

As she spoke, Poppy maintained a radiant smile.

Only the glistening ghostly tears at the corners of her eyes betrayed her true emotions.

"But you failed," Mr. Flamel said with a sigh.

"Did I?" Poppy tilted her head, then smiled as brightly as ever. "Still, I’m quite happy with things as they are. Really, I am."

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