A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"Young, with potential, representing the future."

“Yes, youth means potential, it represents the future,” Nick murmured.

……

Nicolas Flamel read with great interest the questions Felix had posed in his open lecture at the University of Paris—in which Felix had outlined the current state of the magical world in a hypothetical manner and asked the professor for his opinion.

The old man laughed and said, "You're really brave. No wonder that Auror wanted to capture you."

Felix explained, "It just so happened that I came across it, and I was genuinely curious to know how a philosophy professor would view this issue."

"Using the wisdom of others?" the old man said. "A wise approach."

Later in the Chamber of Secrets, Nick couldn't help but complain to Dumbledore: "I don't quite agree with some of the things he does, but... I'm not him, and I don't know what reasons he had for making that decision."

Nick Flamel continued walking until he reached an office where he saw Dumbledore with his arms crossed and a serious expression. He asked, "Why are you so determined to teach at Hogwarts?"

Nick asked, "Is this your interview?"

"It's obvious that I've been hired."

Nick nodded. The clouds in front of him had silently turned sea blue, a memory of Felix's three years since graduation. The old man smiled and said, "The same color as my eyes." Here, he saw a more authentic side of Felix, like a real ordinary person working and living in a tech company. "It really surprised me," Nick said.

The two years prior were Felix's travels around the world. Nicolas Flamel blinked, watching Felix shuttle through the black markets of different countries, selecting and exchanging various magical items and manuscripts. Most of the people he dealt with were dark wizards who operated in the gray area, engaging in robbery, fighting, counterattacks, and setting traps...

"Does blue represent sadness?" Nick asked, staring at the blue, shimmering clouds.

“No, I enjoyed the experience,” Felix said.

"Uh... well."

Then the clouds on both sides of the road turned dark gold again, and he saw a younger Felix, who was in school. In sixth or seventh grade, he was looked at with awe wherever he went, and the crowd automatically made way for him. Felix smiled and nodded at them.

"Is it because the Shafiq family left England? Without any worries about the future?" the old man wondered.

But the next moment, Nick Lemaître dismissed the idea, seeing Felix visit several pure-blood families one by one at the end of fifth grade.

Nicolas Flamel stared at a churning mass of dark gold clouds, and he guessed that if the color of the clouds represented emotions, then Felix at that moment must have been joyful—the joy of revenge.

It was a lavishly decorated room, with a young man with black hair and blue eyes sitting on a bright green and silver striped armchair.

The fireplace, decorated with gold patterns, made a soft sound, and a middle-aged wizard emerged from it. He saw Felix, and his eyes showed surprise and panic.

“Felix Heap… what are you doing here!” he roared angrily. “Who let you in? You’re not welcome here!”

The young man said gently, “I felt it necessary to make a visit to address the differences between us.”

The wizard was furious. "What tricks are you playing? Where is Dumbledore? Is he planning to target the pure-blood families?"

But then, his body stiffened, like a tilted stone statue, his gaze drifting downwards until finally, he found himself kneeling on the ground.

All he could see were the young man's shoes.

"A very subtle spell, isn't it? I found it in the forbidden book section... I'm here today to formally introduce myself, although we already met last summer. What was that Parkinson's guy's name again? I can't quite remember. His face was swollen like a pumpkin. Hmm, the spell bounced back."

“…Jem!” the Parkinson’s man growled.

A house-elf suddenly appeared, and the next second a red light flashed, and the elf fell unconscious to the ground.

Felix stood up, walked past the wizard, and looked at the portrait hanging on the wall. "I did my research before I came. Your family had a Minister of Magic, Perseus Parkinson, who tried to pass a bill that would make marriage with Muggles illegal during his tenure, but it didn't work."

"It's a bit of a shame, isn't it? This kind of thinking can only be kept within the family and cannot be accepted by the general public." He tapped the wizard's head with his wand.

The face of the Parkinson patriarch, kneeling on the ground, turned purplish-red. It only took two minutes for him to go from hatred and resentment to despair and fear.

"What do you need me to do, Mr. Hyp?"

"Behave yourself and stop jumping around. I promised Headmaster Dumbledore I wouldn't pursue this matter."

……

Nick Lemaître said softly, "I knew the Parkinson family had been quiet all these years; they used to be very radical." He asked curiously, "Are all these families that have suddenly declined in recent years related to you?"

“Hmm, then I need to count them carefully,” Felix said uncertainly.

They continued walking, a huge cloud churning and swirling, bringing with it wisps of hazy mist. The image gradually became clearer—it was the memory of Felix initiating a duel at the beginning of fifth grade.

In a corner of Hogwarts Great Hall, after Dumbledore finished his welcoming address, young Felix leisurely put on his gloves. There were no people in the seats on either side of him, which made it easy for him to stand up and walk calmly to a blond boy.

As Felix slowly removed his gloves, he said leisurely, “Shafik, one of the 28 Holy Pureblood Families? Noble, glorious… perhaps just a pile of scum, only good at sneaking around in the shadows. I bet every inch of your veins is filled with filthy blood. I’d love to know if that’s true…” He threw the gloves at the blond boy’s face.

The blond boy was already stiff, sweating profusely. His white gloves stuck to his neck and fell to the ground, covered in dust, because of his trembling body.

He stammered, "Felix..."

“Please, I’ve already said so, don’t disappoint me.” Felix stared intently at him and said sarcastically, “You’re Shafik, after all.”

"I, I'll take... I—" The blond Shafik fell off his seat, his body limp.

“Felix Heap!” Snape strode over from the professor's table, growling, “What do you want?”

“Professor,” Felix bowed slightly, “as you can see, I would like to see whether the blood of this family is red or black.”

Snape's hands trembled with rage as he whispered, "Stop your tedious revenge game. Dumbledore has intervened, behind your back! Trust me, he will make the Shafiq family pay."

“I want more,” Felix said, a strange light in his eyes. “Why should this rotten family continue to be an eyesore?”

“Felix Heap,” Snape suppressed his fear, seeing another man reflected in his young student’s eyes, “I forbid you from doing this.”

Felix fiddled with his wand, saying nothing.

Dumbledore approached and said in a deep voice, "Minerva, take Shafik away. The rest of you—" he raised his voice, "led by the prefects, return to the common room."

……

In the tunnel of memories, Felix asked, "What's your take on this, Nick? Do you think I've gone too far?"

Nick didn't respond to the unpleasant topic and continued walking. He saw Felix walk out of the school gate at the end of fourth grade, defeating his attackers despite various curses.

Even if one of the people's heads grew to twice its original size, it would be difficult to feel sympathy for them—because the spell was cast by the person himself.

My memories of the entire fourth grade are a pale white, incredibly monotonous. Everywhere I look, Felix can be seen practicing spells in various deserted corners. Hundreds of images together make up all my memories of that year.

In a dark cave in the Forbidden Forest, a dazzling green light illuminated the narrow, damp space, revealing a taut face.

"The Death Curse..."

“Yes, I heard it’s pretty good. I spent a lot of time and effort finding it,” Felix said casually.

Nick shook his head, disagreeing with him: "The Unforgivable Curse corrupts the mind. Even Aurors need regular counseling, let alone you when you were just a child."

“The situation was special, I didn’t think that much about it, and you missed it, one of my ghost friends stopped me.”

"Is that the lady? I remember you called her Helena?"

"The other one, the one covered in silvery-white blood."

Nicolas Flamel insisted, "No matter what, you shouldn't be learning black magic, especially at such a young age..."

"Oh, thank you for your concern."

The old man said with a stern face, "I can tell that's a lie."

……

Nicolas Flamel stood grimly before a massive black cloud, its thick, dark mist resembling a menacing beast. He could almost hear it roaring, but it was all an illusion; this was the scene from the beginning of the fourth year of school.

Dozens of owls circled over the empty long dining table, with only young Felix sitting with his back to them. The owls dropped down red letters, which twisted and opened their mouths wide, uttering venomous words.

“You filthy Mudblood! A disgrace to Slytherin! Don’t let me see you again, or I’ll crush your bones one by one…”

"Have you heard of the Unforgivable Curse? Heart-Rending, Heart-Rending!" This was followed by a burst of shrill laughter.

"...I curse your name, I curse your blood!"

The voices of dozens of shouting letters echoed in the auditorium, intertwining and making it difficult to hear clearly. Only a few harsh words could be gleaned from the fragments.

The young wizards cowered to one side, the Slytherin students watched coldly, and the students from the other three houses whispered among themselves.

"boom!"

All the letters were blown to ashes. Felix stood up expressionlessly, and a path automatically parted in the crowd.

“Oh, my God!” Professor McGonagall rushed over, flustered, as the Slytherin table was in complete disarray. She cried out angrily, “Evil, despicable, sly creatures! Utterly vile…shameless!”

"Are you alright, Hyp?" she asked cautiously, placing her hand on Felix's shoulder, only to be jerked away as if electrocuted.

“I’m fine, Professor,” young Felix said calmly, “better than ever.”

In the passageway, Nicolas Flamel frowned deeply and tried to speak several times, but he said nothing. What followed was a long stretch of gray mist, with low, dark clouds swirling and dancing. It was as if they had entered a deep sea, with black reefs connected to whirlpools, stirring up large amounts of seawater and mist.

Some words, like worms, kept crawling into Nicolas Flamel's ears.

"You want to fight? I'm just teaching you a lesson in life. Trash is scum no matter where it is, and a Mudblood is a Mudblood. Did I say anything wrong? Everyone, listen to me, where did I go wrong..."

“You’ve caught a good time. If you ask me, two years earlier, you would have been used as material for practicing magic. I know a big shot who has this hobby.”

“I have a jar at home that holds my house-to-house Pokémon, and it’s the perfect size.”

Nicolas Flamel quickened his pace, trying to cross the road, but it seemed exceptionally long. He turned back to see Felix listening calmly, seemingly oblivious to everything.

"Felix, don't you care?"

“I was actually quite lucky,” Felix laughed. “My classmates couldn’t beat me, and the older students could only watch because of the school rules. After all, the punishments back then were quite severe…”

"But if I couldn't help but take the initiative to attack older students, then I would be out of protection. People have to be allowed to protect themselves, right? So for a long time, they kept nagging in my ear. They were very childish and just talked a lot, like a nagging, gossiping fly—but it didn't really affect me."

Nicolas Lemaître remained silent; the dark clouds on either side continued to torment his ears—

"You sent my brother to the hospital, my own brother. I wanted to teach you a lesson... Unfortunately, Professor Snape warned me. What a pity, since I'm four years ahead of you. You wouldn't dare hit me, would you, you little Mudblood? Do you even know which family I belong to?"

"What's your name?" asked Felix, a new student, warily.

“Oh, I am your prefect, Chesterton, Chesterton Avery. Remember this last name. I hope you will address me as Prefect Avery. We will be together for at least three years, if you do not drop out.”

……

Nick Lemaître strode forward, leaving the annoying noises behind, while Felix followed at a leisurely pace. "Slow down," he said. "I suddenly realized that it's not so bad to share the past with someone... To be honest, I'm tired of making up lies, but it's hard to find the right person."

The old man ignored Felix's nagging and finally crossed the area. A soft, golden sunlight appeared, and a great joy enveloped him.

Golden, wispy clouds floated like cotton candy, refracting colorful light. Nicolas Flamel stared intently at the scene before him.

A little boy with short black hair sat quietly in the yard, reading a book. There were also a dozen or so boys and girls in the yard, laughing and playing. Four teenagers were sweating around a makeshift basketball hoop.

"Hey, little Felix, come play with us!"

The short-haired boy raised the book in his hand. "After I finish reading these two pages—" He suddenly looked up, his eyes shining as he stared ahead, as if he were meeting the gaze of Nicolas Flamel.