Chapter 120: Funeral

When Alaric arrived at Nicolas Flamel's estate once again, it had already become a scene of mourning.

Now, he could see the estate as soon as he arrived. The Fidelius Charm on the estate had disappeared, probably because its secret keeper had passed away forever.

As they approached the entrance of the estate, Dumbledore halted, solemnly producing his wand... and then, a flower appeared in his left hand.

Alaric conjured a white flower as well, placing it in the pocket of his chest.

They continued walking forward.

Along the way, Alaric saw many people... at least several hundred wizards, most of them very old. 

Some of them Alaric had seen at the Wizard Chess tournament, all masters of magic and alchemy, with whom he was now maintaining correspondence.

Like Dumbledore, each of them held a bouquet of flowers.

However, unlike Dumbledore, they did not continue forward but stood in place, bowing their heads in mourning.

He also saw a familiar carriage, a house-sized powder-blue carriage pulled by a dozen huge, winged Abraxan horses. 

It belonged to Nicolas Flamel's alma mater, Beauxbatons, where he had met his wife, Perenelle. 

Later, he had funded the castle and grounds for the school, and Beauxbatons' fountain was named after the Flamel couple.

Of course, Alaric also saw a familiar woman: Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, tall and of giant blood, accompanied by several individuals who appeared to be professors from Beauxbatons. Fleur did not come.

And of course, Alaric also saw the Minister of Magic for Britain, Cornelius Fudge, looking worried, as usual twirling his green hat atop his head, followed by a delegation from the Ministry of Magic.

Following Dumbledore, Alaric arrived at a gravestone. The gravestone was quite plain in appearance, with a few lines inscribed on it:

Here lies the greatest alchemist of the wizarding world, Nicolas Flamel (1327-1993), and his wife Perenelle Flamel (1334-1993).

They once conquered life, and now they conquer death.

Albus Dumbledore, July 1993

Dumbledore placed the flowers in front of the gravestone, then he stepped back slowly, bowing deeply to the gravestone.

Alaric followed suit, paying his respects to the gravestone.

"I've known Nicolas Flamel for a long time, considered him a friend from my youth!" Dumbledore said loudly. 

"Back then, I was just a twenty-something, eager for knowledge, while he was already a renowned alchemist. 

Yet, he kindly helped me, offering me much guidance in magical research…

He was not only my mentor but also my dear friend; with his help, I published many papers, discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and we..."

Dumbledore reminisced emotionally, and a low sobbing filled the silent crowd.

"Though Nicolas has long remained in seclusion, indifferent to worldly affairs, he was still a just and noble wizard. 

When the world needed him, he would step forward. I still remember, over sixty years ago, when the wizarding world of Europe was overshadowed by the first Dark Lord.

It was Nicolas in his seclusion who emerged, leading brave wizards to defend Paris..."

"For many years, he helped me in numerous ways... many, many ways... Though I know he always preferred a peaceful life, wanting only to retire with his wife in Devonshire, spending their time on their beloved alchemy and opera; various circumstances forced me to seek his help..."

"A year ago, they told me they were ready to leave this world... 

You must understand, for Nicolas, who invented the Philosopher's Stone and had spent centuries in this world, this was a difficult but courageous decision... 

My former friends are now few, but now, two more have left my side..."

Everyone listened quietly to Dumbledore's eulogy, with occasional sniffles from the audience.

As they left the gravestone, Dumbledore suddenly turned serious and said to Alaric.

"In my youth, I, too, lost myself in the pursuit of power and authority. But later, I realized; family... love... friendship... are the most precious things in this world."

"I understand, Professor," Alaric said softly. "I understand your words."

They stayed in the graveyard for quite a long time.

During the reading of the Flamel couple's will, everyone was surprised to discover that they had left all their books and manuscripts to Alaric, which was the most important part of the alchemist's legacy.

For Alaric, most of the wizards present had heard of his name. 

This young man was remarkably talented, having become the champion of the Wizard Chess tournament at a young age and achieving many academic accomplishments that most wizards could only dream of.

"What a fortunate young man."

Some thought so, but many others believed that although unexpected, it made sense.

The Flamel couple indeed had been eager to mentor young people.

After the reading of the will was completed, the funeral was basically over, but Dumbledore still didn't leave.

"Professor, what else do we need to do now?" Alaric glanced up at the sky; it was almost dark without him realizing.

"Apologies for taking up your time, my boy," Dumbledore smiled and said.

"Old folks tend to reminisce. I wish to catch up with a few old friends. Would you mind waiting a bit longer for this old man?"

Alaric nodded.

"Dumbledore... Professor Dumbledore!" an elderly voice suddenly came from behind them.

"Oh, my!" Dumbledore turned around, his face lighting up.

Alaric saw a somewhat scruffy old man and two elderly ladies, along with an eleven or twelve-year-old boy with red hair, walking towards them.

Dumbledore and the old man embraced warmly. "Newt, my old friend, it's been too long. I suppose you've come to pay your respects to Nicolas?"

"Yes, we came from Dorset," Newt Scamander nodded. "Mr. Flamel indeed helped me and my brother a great deal when we were in Paris."

"Allow me to introduce," Newt gestured to the people beside him.

"This is my wife, Porpentina Scamander, and her sister, Queenie Goldstein. And this here is my youngest grandson, Rolf Scamander."

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