A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Isolt Sayre was a 17th-century witch, which places her story 300 years in the past.

Not only is her era long gone, but she was also a legendary witch who founded Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

For someone like her to hide something would make it nearly impossible for others to find it.

In fact, the Gaunt family, up until their extinction, was still attempting to recover Slytherin's wand.

Of course, by that point, it was mostly opportunistic behavior. The impoverished Gaunts hoped to extort a large sum of gold from Ilvermorny to reclaim the lifestyle of their ancestors.

It was a gamble born out of desperation.

Naturally, their gamble failed.

For the dilapidated Gaunts, confronting Ilvermorny was akin to the declining British Empire confronting the rising United States.

The result? Getting utterly crushed—leaving them whining pitifully.

…

In the room, Nicolas Flamel continued his tale.

"After failing to locate the wand, I shifted my focus to Death's goblet."

His eyes sparkled with an intense, mysterious light.

"This goblet left behind more clues than Slytherin's wand. But its abundance made it difficult to distinguish truth from fiction.

"Eventually, through my continued investigation, I discovered another name for the goblet. You've probably heard of it—the Holy Grail."

Nicolas led William toward another room.

They passed through a luxurious marble hall into a finely decorated chamber, where Victorian lamps with tassels cast a soft glow.

The air carried a layered aroma—a blend of paint, incense, and the earthy scent of stone walls.

William looked around and saw the room's walls adorned with frescoes and paintings, all masterpieces made by famous artists.

Walking ahead, Nicolas spoke with a smile:

"In Muggle lore, on the night before Jesus was crucified, he dined with his twelve disciples.

"Jesus lifted a goblet, passing it around so his disciples could share the wine.

"This goblet required no pouring; it automatically refilled with exquisite wine. And on the third day after Jesus' death, he rose again."

"A goblet that produces wine and resurrection on the third day… doesn't this story sound familiar?" Nicolas' voice resonated in the room.

William nodded slightly. He had indeed heard the story of the Holy Grail.

Back in his previous life at the orphanage, a neighboring elderly lady frequently spent Sundays praying with the local priest. William often overheard stories about the Lord from her.

However, he was far more familiar with the "Holy Grail War" and… Rin Tohsaka.

Wait, wasn't this world also a magical one? Why couldn't they have magical rituals involving energy transfers?

How infuriating!

Nicolas, unaware of William's wandering thoughts, pushed through a set of floor-length windows and headed toward a corner of the room.

"After Jesus' death, Joseph of Arimathea buried him and brought the Holy Grail to Britain. Surely you've heard of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

"One of the knights, Galahad, used the Grail's miraculous powers to heal the dying Fisher King.

"Later, Galahad entrusted the Holy Grail to Merlin."

Nicolas finally stopped in front of a massive painting.

"This is Merlin. He's standing at the center of the artwork," Nicolas explained.

"Do you see? He's wearing a white robe, surrounded by twelve knights of the Round Table. Next to Merlin is a rough, wooden goblet."

"Is this the Merlin Memorial Hall?" William asked, studying the grand hall depicted in the painting.

He remembered attending a Merlin Medal award ceremony there during summer break, so the scene left a strong impression.

Nicolas smiled. "Exactly. Merlin hid the Holy Grail here, but it later disappeared again. And I've nearly figured out where it's gone."

Nicolas conjured two chairs and settled comfortably into one. "That's about the end of my story. Do you have any questions?"

"Death… where is he?" William asked curiously.

"Ah, child, now that's a difficult question," Nicolas chuckled. "But I have some theories about how to find him.

"For instance, Sirens are Death's most loyal servants. If you can locate their island, you might find Death."

"Does that mean I have to visit the Merfolk tribes?" William blinked.

"William, let me give you a piece of advice: never try to find Death." Nicolas' expression grew serious.

"Why not?"

"Before I answer that, let me ask you a few questions."

William nodded.

"In the stories you've heard, how many people have seen Death?" Nicolas asked.

"Three brothers."

"Good. And after receiving Death's gifts, how many survived?"

"One…" William frowned. "Are you saying that to meet Death, three people must set out together, but only one will survive?"

"William, it's just a theory," Nicolas sighed softly. "The bridge represents Death's trial. Passing the trial allows one to meet him.

"And the three brothers symbolize the trial's participants—whether related by blood or as close as family.

"Would you be willing to sacrifice two lives to obtain a so-called Deathly Hallow?"

Without hesitation, William shook his head. "Absolutely not!"

He would never trade the lives of his sister Anne, Hermione, Cedric, Cho, or the Weasley twins for a Deathly Hallow.

"That's why I hope you never try to find Death," Nicolas said with a satisfied smile.

"Then why are you seeking the Deathly Hallows?"

"No one is completely free of desires—not even Albus," Nicolas sighed deeply. "He, too, searches for one of them."

"For me, collecting the Deathly Hallows isn't about becoming the Master of Death or acquiring immense power. I just want to unlock the Book of Abraham and continue living."

"But haven't you already created the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Child, the story already tells us that the Philosopher's Stone cannot grant true immortality," Nicolas said with a smile. "It's merely a critical magical material for brewing the Elixir of Life.

"And even the Philosopher's Stone isn't infinite. When one is exhausted of its magic, a second must be crafted.

"Brewing the Elixir of Life also comes at a cost."

William pondered Nicolas' words. So, the Philosopher's Stone wasn't omnipotent. 

He had once thought it could be submerged in water to produce an endless supply of elixir.

After a moment, he asked, "Do you seek eternal life?"

"No one can achieve true immortality—except Death himself." Nicolas stared blankly out at the night sky.

"But I despise endings. Anything related to endings troubles me.

"I don't read the endings of novels, nor do I watch the final episodes of Muggle TV shows. I never bid friends farewell on their journeys, and I never attend funerals.

"For now, I'm not ready to end my story. I just want to keep experiencing this world."

Nicolas slowly closed his eyes.

"Albus often says that death is the next great adventure.

"And while I agree with that, there's still so much in this world I haven't seen yet. I'm not ready to leave it behind."

"Experiencing what you haven't before—that's the essence of life, isn't it? What do you think, William?"

William shook his head. "Honestly, Nicolas, I haven't figured out the meaning of life yet."

The old man didn't reply; he had fallen asleep.

William conjured a robe, draping it gently over the elderly wizard before quietly leaving the room.

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