Once again, having gotten the wrong idea, Nicolas Flamel glared at Albus Dumbledore, huffing and puffing his beard.
"Of course I trust your abilities, without a doubt." Albus Dumbledore hurriedly nodded and smiled apologetically. Even here, Nicolas Flamel was still an old man whose feelings had to be cared for.
After all,
The older you get, the more you resemble a child.
This trait showed up in a lot of old wizards.
"You heard that, little one? Your headmaster knows best how skilled I am. Come see me when you're free after classes, I'll give you some private lessons."
Nicolas Flamel just glanced at the parchments scattered on the floor, and that was enough for him to gauge Ian's alchemy skills. He was already feeling pretty glad that, as a fun-loving guy, he'd come to Hogwarts.
"Mhm mhm! I'll be sure to find you!"
Ian was pretty happy too.
Although he could always ask Teacher Morgan about alchemy, those were only chances that unlocked every now and then. Having the greatest alchemist of the century available for questions at any time was definitely a good thing.
"Not only do I have the Magic Stone, I've got other treasures too. If your learning progress can satisfy me, once I kick the bucket and keel over, I'll leave them all to you!" Nicolas Flamel was also quite delighted. He glanced at the already shattered Magic Stone and began fueling Ian's motivation for study.
This was obviously not the same as those big promises Ian always drew for the Dementors.
"You can't give him that machine."
Suddenly.
Albus Dumbledore reminded Nicolas Flamel with a trace of worry in his tone.
"What machine?"
Ian looked at the old headmaster with curiosity.
"Some of Nicolas's past criminal evidence."
Albus Dumbledore clearly didn't want to elaborate.
It's just that—
Hearing that vague explanation, Nicolas Flamel instantly looked displeased. First he glared at Albus Dumbledore, then he explained to the little wizard,
"It's really just a metalworking machine, that's all. Hmph, it can make certain toys the Ministry of Magic likes to keep an eye on." Nicolas Flamel tried to salvage his image.
Though even he couldn't come up with a better excuse.
"A money printer?"
Ian showed off his sharp intuition.
"An illegal money printer."
Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily, correcting Ian's wording.
"The Ministry and those goblins can't even tell the difference. Besides, it's not like I've ever actually used it…" Nicolas Flamel sounded like he was losing confidence.
Ian could even feel the guilt coming off him.
He recalled how Nicolas Flamel immediately mentioned a five million gold Galleons bet earlier.
Some things were suddenly becoming quite clear.
"Professor, you've been stuck in that secret wall compartment for so long, you must be hungry, right? Why don't we go to the kitchens and grab something to eat? I know the house-elves make some seriously tasty food."
"And while we're at it, we can also discuss… I mean, I wanted to pick your brain about alchemy." Without hesitation, Ian started buttering him up.
"There's still a mess to take care of."
Nicolas Flamel wasn't swayed by the lure of food. He nodded toward Voldemort's corpse. "If we don't properly handle this body, the Dark Arts in it will definitely get people killed. You may not be a magic creature, but this body is the work of biological alchemy."
Nicolas Flamel's skills were truly the real deal, with little exaggeration. He hadn't even gotten a close look, yet he could instantly tell Voldemort's body originated from alchemy.
"He made himself a body with alchemy?"
Ian was a bit curious too.
However—
Just as he was about to step forward for a look, Albus Dumbledore stopped him.
"It's even more terrifying than that. I imagine you're definitely curious how Voldemort managed reviving himself, and why he did it the way he did. I'll answer everything for you later in my office."
Albus Dumbledore clearly wanted Ian to leave now.
"Honestly, what I'm more anxious to know is, are these magic runes on my body going to keep flashing?" Ian looked down at his still-bare torso.
The golden magic runes glimmered and faded like breathing.
"From what I know, they'll stabilize. You don't need to worry about glowing forever." Albus Dumbledore's gentle reply held an air of reassuring authority.
Ian relaxed a lot.
"Alright, Professor, can I take this magic mirror with me? For the sake of the fact that I've defended our school once again and sweated so much for the safety of the other little wizards?"
Ian had actually wanted to say he'd shed blood for the school, but he really couldn't find a drop of it on himself—and wasn't even sure if a mouth ulcer counted as a wound of honor.
"Ian, getting too obsessed with the illusory visions from the Mirror of Erised won't do you any good." Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but frown at that.
"I just want to study it a bit. You know, I'm an alchemist, so of course I'd want to research this kind of ancient alchemy creation."
Ian spoke with total sincerity.
Albus Dumbledore was still a little hesitant.
Nicolas Flamel now spoke up for Ian, "An alchemist needs this kind of curiosity. Honestly, the one who gets addicted to that mirror isn't Little Ian."
He was obviously hinting at something.
Making Albus Dumbledore look a little awkward.
"Alright, I'll let you have it. But if I find out it's affecting you, I'll take it back." Albus Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, but finally nodded and granted Ian's request.