The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 104, The Jewish Book of Abraham (Seeking first subscriptions)

Moriarty pushed open the door to the secret room and saw parchment covering half the floor, dozens of wand covers hanging in mid-air, and Nicolas Flamel alone leaning against a chaise lounge.

"I have to admit I've lost, Moriarty."

Nico turned slightly to the side, glanced at Moriarty, and smiled, saying, "For about four hundred years, the word 'loser' hasn't come out of my mouth. It has been brewing in my mind for a long time, wanting to appear in a dignified way—accompanied by a deep voice, philosophical language, as if a voice from heaven is speaking to you."

Moriarty walked to his side, conjured up an identical recliner, and slowly leaned back.

"Winning and losing are like a pushing hand, revealing the bloody reality to people. Losing—revealing that the loser is a fool. Winning—revealing that the winner may be a fool."

Moriarty stretched out in the backrest. He hadn't rested for nearly 48 hours, and a long-lost sense of ease welled up inside him. His breathing was in sync with Nicolas Flamel's—relaxed and steady, without a trace of the madness of winning the earth-shattering bet.

"Yes, even winners can lose. If you ask me, it's best to let them lose once!"

Nicolas Flamel wore a white bathrobe with gold thread embroidered at the collar today, and he gently swayed with his hands on the armrests.

"When von Wee Capet told me that the wand set was successfully made, the first emotion I felt was joy." Nico closed his eyes and shared his feelings with Moriarty.

"Perenel and I smiled with relief. It was then that we realized we also had a weakness, which turned out to be our greatest strength: alchemy."

Fate played a cruel joke on us. Just when we thought that nothing and no one could defeat us except death, alchemy, through you, tells us—knowledge that is eternally great and awe-inspiring.

“That’s right,” Moriarty smiled slightly. “I was able to create the wand set ahead of everyone else thanks to a brand new alchemical concept, which I call the Alchemy Matrix.”

You see, if fate is unpredictable, then knowledge always brings surprises.

Countless manual alchemical experiments, alchemical formulas, magical runes, alchemical matrices...

Human knowledge is constantly being upgraded and innovated with each generation, and I have no doubt that a simpler and more advanced alchemical method than the Matrix will emerge.

"Me too." Nicolas Flamel did not inquire about the Alchemy Matrix. He showed no resentment or distress at losing the earth-shattering bet. He placed his hands on his lower abdomen, his face serene. "I have given up the idea of ​​facing death. I want to live for a few hundred more years and see if any alchemical methods, which we have mentioned, that are more advanced than your Matrix will appear."

"It definitely exists, and it will definitely happen." Moriarty looked up. "I don't know what you've been through, but you always see the world from an outsider's perspective."

You have discovered many outstanding wizards, such as Dumbledore, Newt Scamander, and so on.

Yet you rarely have the idea of ​​exploring the world. You believe that others can invent more advanced alchemical methods, so why can't that person be you?

Moriarty curled his lips into a smile, his gray eyes reflecting the light from the ceiling and gleaming with confidence. Nicolas Flamel understood the meaning in his eyes: "You believe that person will be you, right? Always confident, always steadfast."

I don't know if this is a trait you were born with, or if you possess something that gives you such confidence, but all I can say is, that's pretty good!

As Nicolas Flamel spoke, he extended his left hand and pointed to a stack of books on the podium. A large, thin book with a gray cover and many handprints flew to Nicolas Flamel's face.

Nicolas Flamel quickly pulled a parchment from the book and handed it to Moriarty.

Moriarty carefully took the parchment, or rather, a page of a diary, but it was clearly hundreds of years old. The edges were curly, the paper was worn white, and a dusty smell wafted out.

"April 25, 1382," Moriarty read aloud the date.

Nicolas Flamel was slightly surprised: "Dumbledore never said you spoke French. Oh, sorry, please go on."

Moriarty continued reading: "I followed the instructions in the book, deducing the redstone based on the same amount of mercury, and then I really did turn the mercury into gold!"

It is indeed better than ordinary gold; it is softer and more malleable.

I think this is the Philosopher's Stone in the book. What's even more incredible than turning stones into gold is that this book is like a magic spell; anyone who gets it can never put it down.

If it weren't for Perenel's warning, I would have already stirred up the deepest ambitions and desires within me.

Moriarty returned the diary to Nicolas Flamel, his eyes deep and thoughtful. These renowned sorcerers were indeed not to be underestimated; their lives were legends, concealing far too many secrets, just like now—

"The Philosopher's Stone—you found this alchemical tool in the book? I always thought it was your invention." Moriarty's gaze fell on the thin gray book. "Is this the book mentioned in the diary?"

"It is," Nicolas Flamel's expression changed slightly, "The Book of Abraham."

"Jews?" Moriarty said in surprise. "How is that possible? Jews are skilled in mathematics and good at making money, yet no one thinks they have anything to do with magic!"

“Of course, everyone thinks so,” Nicolas Flamel sat up from his chaise longue, his tone slightly more forceful, “but angels don’t lie. Let me start from the beginning—”

About six hundred years ago, one night, an angel appeared in my dream. The angel told me that I would receive a book, and if I diligently studied and thoroughly understood it, I would gain extraordinary and magical powers.

Moriarty looked incredulous, but Nicolas Flamel patted the thin gray book and said with a laugh, "Don't be like that. Not long after, the dream came true. I exchanged two florins for a book called 'The Book of Abraham the Judea,' and I spent 21 years deciphering it and collecting information..."

At this point, Moriarty noticed a flicker of unease in Nicolas Flamel's eyes.

"Finally, with the help of a Hebrew scholar, I deciphered the meaning recorded in the book and crafted the Philosopher's Stone."

Nicolas Flamel took the Philosopher's Stone out of his pocket and, as if to prove the truth of his words, waved it lightly in front of Moriarty.

"What a coincidence, I have one too." Moriarty pretended to take out a magic stone from under his robe, but in reality he took out a magic stone he had won in a lottery from his system space, held the red gem between two fingers, and waved it in front of Nicolas Flamel.

"By Merlin!" Nicolas Flamel leaned forward involuntarily. He saw another Philosopher's Stone that was exactly the same. What could be more amazing than this?

Moriarty was delighted to see the six-hundred-year-old man's surprised expression, and he joked, "My Philosopher's Stone is male, and yours is female."

Nicolas Flamel chuckled, picked up the thin gray book and handed it to Moriarty. "I was going to give you some advice, but it seems you're more powerful than I thought, or rather, more talented than I thought, as you put it."

Moriarty calmly took the book and was opening it when he heard Nicolas Flamel say, "If you're not in such a hurry, you can count the pages of this book first."

"This roughness suggests it's made of tree bark?" Moriarty stroked the cover and edges of the book, slowly turning the pages. He didn't look at the contents, but focused on counting the pages.

"Twenty-one pages in total," Moriarty said casually. "Related to the number seven?"

"It's related to seven." Nicolas Flamel nodded. In the magical world, seven is a magical number. "And it's not just related to seven," he added. "Please read the book, quickly."

Moriarty turned to the first page and looked at it with surprise in his eyes. The first page was part of a picture, which was obviously incomplete.

He quickly flipped to the second page, the third page, and so on until he reached the seventh page, where he finally saw a complete picture.

"First picture: A walking stick with two snakes coiled around it, one of which is a white snake with patterns, devouring the other black snake."

Moriarty looked at Nicolas Flamel.

"That's right," Nicolas Flamel said, "but how do you interpret it?"

"The caduceus represents magical healing. In Greek mythology, Hermes' wand is a caduceus, implying 'sex' and peace," Moriarty said, picking out the key points. "It can also be interpreted separately: the staff symbolizes power and status. The white and black snakes could have formed a balance, but the patterns troubled the white snake, breaking the balance."

"Oh, what a wonderful idea." Nicolas Flamel laughed, then became serious. "But what I see in it is the fusion of matter, while Perenel sees the wings of a fallen angel."

"Hmm? In other words, everyone sees the same picture, but interprets it in different ways."

Moriarty nodded slightly. The fact that this could be done meant that the book had been enchanted with a powerful mystical spell, or that the book itself was a powerful alchemical artifact.

(End of this chapter)