A desolate island where even birds refused to land.
Lucien strolled along the narrow strip of sand, the sea breeze carrying the sharp tang of salt and damp air across his face. He had just finished an alchemy session on one of the remote islands he kept for dangerous experiments. Traces of magic still clung to his robes, faint ripples of power that hadn't quite settled yet.
He turned toward the sun, raised his right hand, and held up a single crystal-clear red ruby between his fingers. Sunlight poured through the gem, scattering a soft crimson glow across his cheek. A quiet spark of satisfaction lit his eyes.
It was done.
The simplified Philosopher's Stone.
The real thing could turn lead into gold and brew the Elixir of Life — the absolute pinnacle of alchemy. This version couldn't do any of that. What it could do was store and release enormous amounts of pure magic on command. A magic battery powerful enough to run the kind of alchemical devices he had only been able to dream about until now.
Lucien had expected the process to take several failed attempts and a lot of painful lessons. Instead it had come together in one smooth, almost inevitable success.
The four elemental magic patterns had been the key. Water, fire, earth, and now wind — their perfect balance formed the true foundation of alchemy. Every shift of power, every delicate equilibrium, had answered to the patterns with a precision that still surprised him. Completing the wind pattern had finally locked the last piece into place.
The indirect benefits to his alchemy were already obvious. But the most immediate, most visceral demonstration of a master-level elemental pattern was something else entirely.
Lucien drew his wand and cast a simple breeze charm — the most basic wind spell there was. Under normal circumstances it produced nothing stronger than a brisk fan. He waved the wand in a casual arc.
At the same moment, the delicate cyan whirlwind pattern on the pad of his ring finger flared to life, glowing with living light.
The breeze that burst from his wand tip instantly took on a faint cyan sheen. The wind elements in the air around him answered like soldiers hearing a battle horn. In the space of a single breath, that gentle current twisted into a snarling, clawing whirlwind.
It grew fast. Sand and loose stone whipped across the beach. The sea itself began to heave, wave after wave rolling outward in widening rings. The air roared. And yet every violent gust parted around Lucien the instant it reached him, carving out a perfect circle of still air that shielded him at its center.
Master-level changed everything.
Once the elements reached a certain threshold, they no longer needed his constant control. Even if he cut the magic supply, the whirlwind would keep feeding on the free elements in the air, growing larger on its own. Left alone, this thing could easily become a full-blown hurricane.
Elemental magic at this level didn't just move air. It changed the weather.
From advanced to master — one tier, yet a complete transformation in what was possible.
A soft chime sounded.
Lucien pulled the Instant Language sheet from his pocket. A message from Dumbledore glowed on the page.
Found it. The Gaunt ancestral home.
Lucien's eyebrows rose. The old family seat of Voldemort's mother. The source of the bloodline Dumbledore had been hunting for weeks. It looked like the headmaster had finally caught a solid lead.
Going on a hunt with Dumbledore himself… that was an opportunity worth getting excited about. The greatest wizard alive as backup tended to make most problems feel a lot smaller.
He scrolled through the rest of his messages and remembered the other piece of news he needed to share. The simplified Philosopher's Stone was finished. His teacher should know.
Lucien snapped a quick photo of the ruby, attached a short report, and sent it to Nicolas Flamel.
Message delivered, he slipped the Instant Language back into his pocket.
He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.
The whirlwind collapsed instantly, scattering into wild streams of air that flew off in every direction. Sand and stone rained back down onto the beach. The sea slowly smoothed itself out again.
At the same moment, Lucien's figure vanished.
Only the wind-scoured stretch of sand remained — even less inviting to birds than it had been before.