A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Chapter 99 The Old Man of Devonshire (Third Update)

Devonshire,

A remote manor.

For centuries, almost no outsiders, including wizards and Muggles, have been able to set foot here.

In the very center of the manor, there is a beautiful, perfectly square room with a huge single green granite pillar supporting a ten-meter-high dome.

Beethoven's Sixth Symphony resonated throughout the room, its magnificent melody originating from a square mirror stand that stood proudly against the west wall.

Upon closer inspection, the mirror revealed the Vienna Theatre, where a massive orchestra was performing flawlessly under the direction of a musician with hair as wild as a lion.

The room was so peculiar, its walls like a kaleidoscope covered in ancient characters… Egyptian, Hebrew, astronomical, alchemical, and other inexplicable symbols.

Above that, surrounded by six portraits, each holding a blood-red stone in its hand, shimmering like the silent eyes of a ghost.

The people in these six paintings are not like the past principals in the principal's office; they are all the same person.

However, the old men in each painting are exactly one hundred years apart in age.

The six people silently watched the old man in the center of the room.

He was wearing a fashionable dragon-skin apron and gloves woven from unicorn feathers, hunched over, staring at the oversized U-shaped test tube on the lab table.

He pushed up his rhinoceros horn-rimmed glasses, sometimes muttering something under his breath, sometimes hopping around, and sometimes lost in thought.

"Oh, this melody won't do, it's too soft. I need some passion!"

The old man snapped his fingers, and Beethoven disappeared from the mirror stand, replaced by Bach.

"Oh," he said unhappily, "no Bach, that's a style we liked two hundred years ago. Let's go for something more modern."

The image in the mirror transformed into rock music, with an even more energetic rhythm.

—Immigrant Song

If William were here, he would probably recognize it as the background music from "Thor: Ragnarok". However, this album was released back in 1970, and it's clearly one of the old man's recent favorites.

He was extremely satisfied and started shaking to the beat.

When the song ended, he put it on repeat again.

After an unknown amount of time, a clear voice rang out, and the toad statue in the right corner announced loudly, "Albus Dumbledore will arrive at the door in fifteen minutes."

The old man looked up at the window not far away, where a giant prophecy sphere was placed.

The prophecy revealed Dumbledore's figure, who Apparated alone outside the manor, clearly a scene from fifteen minutes later.

"Oh, I forgot about that," the old man muttered, patting his head.

He felt like he had only been doing an experiment for a short while, but the whole afternoon had passed.

"There's not enough time!" he muttered.

"The 100083rd experiment with the panacea has failed. Record the data and destroy the semi-finished product," the old man instructed.

"Yes!"

A house-elf appeared, dressed in a gorgeous silk short-sleeved shirt, with aviator sunglasses covering his tennis ball-sized green eyes, and an Arabian headscarf wrapped around his long ears.

"This outfit is quite nice, Hercules. You dress better than your father and grandfather. You've really got my style." The old man grinned.

Hercules bowed respectfully and said, "Thank you for your compliment!"

"Relax." The old man glanced at the room in the distance and whispered, "Are you free this weekend? I got two tickets to a fashion show... Victoria's Secret..."

Hercules broke out in a cold sweat and said awkwardly, "If the lady finds out..."

"Hey, if you don't tell me and I don't tell you, who will know?" The old man took off his glasses, dripped two drops of magic potion, and explained, "You probably don't know this, but my eyes can see beauty that others can't."

Take Van Gogh for example. Back then, nobody wanted his paintings, but I bought a lot of them as soon as I put my hands on them. Look at how much his paintings are worth to Muggles now.

I'm good at finding the highlights in things that everyone else rejects, and that's exactly what fashion shows are all about!

"Think it over carefully. There's still time. I'm going to change my clothes and see my old friend. Let me tell you, if you don't go, the ticket will go to Albus!"

The old man quickly walked out of the room, and the music changed to Disco.

—My dear little sister

Please don't cry.

Where is your home?

I will take you back...

The living room was lit by a row of candles. The candlelight was dim, and the old man leaned back in his chair, gazing down at the golden cup in his hand, the liquid inside bright red.

After a moment, Dumbledore's smile illuminated the dark living room.

"Good evening, Nico. You must be surprised to hear I was coming this afternoon?" Dumbledore said gently.

He sat down in a dark, handcrafted, dragon-skin chair made of black walnut wood.

"It's quite surprising, what brings such a busy man like you here?" Nicolas Flamel laughed.

A symphony of destiny flows gently.

"Of course, it's for the secret mission of stealing the Music Mirror." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, savoring the beautiful melody.

"Honestly, I would give all my Gringotts assets for this mirror of yours."

"Don't even think about it. This contains my precious concert records from the past six hundred years." Nicolas Flamel winked.

"Still, chilled lemonade?"

Dumbledore nodded, and a glass of lemonade appeared in his hand.

"Albus, what's up?" Nicolas Flamel asked, having finished his joke.

"I'm on a short business trip today," Dumbledore replied, glancing around the lavish living room. "I met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; he must have been to Albania, he smells familiar."

"Oh," Nicolas Flamel said, his expression unchanged, "So, he's coming back?"

"Perhaps, but it will probably be some time." Dumbledore crossed his arms. "But Harry is enrolling this year."

Nicolas Flamel glanced up at Dumbledore, seemingly not particularly concerned about Harry Potter.

"I'm sorry to have come all this way to see you, Nico, but there's something I need to ask you for help with."

"That's quite rare," Nicolas Flamel laughed.

He didn't know what an old man who hadn't lifted a finger in almost half a century could do for someone standing at the top of the magic world.

"What is it? Please tell me," the old man replied.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. "I hope you'll consider lending me something—the Philosopher's Stone."

Nico rolled her eyes. "You should know that broken stone has almost lost its magic."

"But Tom didn't know."

Nico stared at Dumbledore and suddenly laughed.

"Albus, do you remember the first time you wrote to me?"

Dumbledore was momentarily dazed, a trace of pain appearing on his face.

Dumbledore was only thirteen years old at the time. As a second-year wizard, he actually wrote a letter to the famous Nicolas Flamel, asking to borrow the Philosopher's Stone to save his nine-year-old sister.

Because Mo Mo Ran's age is almost never more than ten years old.

And Nicolas Flamel actually agreed.

"You know, I'm still grateful for your decision back then." Dumbledore suppressed his pain and said earnestly, "If you'd like, I can forge another Philosopher's Stone for you anytime."

"Forget about it. You're too old to waste any more of your lifespan."

Dumbledore laughed, but still seemed somewhat troubled.

"Here you go." Nicolas Flamel casually pulled a small bag from his pocket and tossed it to Dumbledore.

The small package was just a box a few centimeters square, wrapped in faded brown wrapping paper and tied with a thin string.

"Seriously, Albus," Nico said, fiddling with his new, stylish black jacket.

"I have lived for over six hundred years and have always understood one thing: this world can do without anyone, including you and me."

Stop wasting your energy like this. You should think about yourself. I don't want to attend your funeral.

Dumbledore glanced down at the box and chuckled. "Death is just another great adventure."

Nicolas Flamel smiled slightly. "But I haven't seen enough yet."

"By the way, that child you mentioned, I wrote to him. He's very interesting and talented, just like you were back then."

"That's good."

Nicolas Flamel gazed at the starry sky, the melody of Symphony No. 5 reaching his ears, and he drank the crimson liquid in the golden cup in one gulp.

"Fate..."

……

……

(Third update, please vote for me, everyone. Thanks to "TideX" for the donation)

(End of this chapter)