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Chapter 34 — Echoes of Ancient Magic
Edmund Grindelwald followed the ghostly elder deeper inside.
As she led the way, the Veela elder asked casually,
"Is the one you wish to save male or female?"
"A sixteen-year-old girl," Edmund replied.
"Oh ho ho," the old ghost chuckled softly. "I do love this sort of story. I once saved someone too—but he despised my appearance afterward… Are you certain you still want to save her? These things rarely end well, you know."
Edmund shook his head, remaining silent.
Seeing that he had no intention of answering, the elder said nothing more and continued ahead.
They soon returned to the cavern filled with crystal formations and coral.
"Go on," the elder said. "Touch the largest crystal and pour your magic into it."
Edmund did as instructed.
Light burst forth from the crystal. The rock wall beside it shimmered, then vanished completely, revealing a hidden passage.
"Oh, come along," the Veela elder urged excitedly. "Let's see what fate has in store."
Passing through the passage, Edmund's gaze was immediately drawn to a stone altar.
Mysterious runes surrounded it, glowing faintly with a sea-blue radiance—symbols unlike any script he had ever seen.
"Step onto it, child," the elder said. "This is one of the greatest secrets of our homeland—the altar used to pray for the Elixir of All Souls."
She spoke with unmistakable pride, her voice brimming with emotion.
"For centuries, wizards have believed themselves superior. But in ancient times, it was not wizards who ruled this world. Look at this altar—tell me, which wizard alive could have created such a masterpiece? Not even Nicolas Flamel!"
After indulging herself for a moment, the elder continued,
"The divine medicine produced by this altar does not heal injuries in the conventional sense. Instead, it erases the concept of a 'negative state' at the level of rules themselves. That is why it can cure any illness, any curse."
"Because it interferes with the laws of the world, the conditions to obtain it are extremely strict."
"First, you must love the one you wish to save. That is the prerequisite."
"Second—just as I told you before—you must pay a price."
Edmund stood before the altar, lost in thought.
Do I love Hydras… that little girl?
He asked himself honestly.
He couldn't quite put it into words.
More often than not, he felt he and Rick were alike. After living together day and night for five years, perhaps he simply saw Hydras as a younger sister.
But sibling affection was still love, wasn't it?
If that counted… then yes.
He loved her.
"As for the price," Edmund asked, lifting his head, "will it be my life?"
"No," the elder replied calmly. "This altar has never taken a life."
At least it wasn't death.
Edmund exhaled quietly in relief. As long as he lived—long enough to see wizards freely casting spells in the streets—he had nothing to fear.
Hydras was the one foretold by his uncle to change the wizarding world.
She could not be lost.
If the price was something else… then so be it.
Edmund nodded to himself, straightened his posture, and stepped onto the altar without hesitation.
…
…
Villa Astray.
Nicolas Flamel carefully examined Hydras's condition.
"It's terrible… absolutely terrible," the ancient alchemist murmured, his frail body trembling slightly. "Her body is fused with magic to an extent I have never seen before."
He took out the Philosopher's Stone.
"If magic cannot circulate smoothly within her, her body simply won't be able to sustain itself."
The crimson stone radiated dazzling light.
"I'll use the Stone to stabilize her body and preserve her life for now…"
"As for whether she can truly recover… that will depend on fate."
Grindelwald frowned deeply.
"Is there no alchemical method to extract the Mentore metal powder from her body?"
Flamel shook his head.
"Mentore metal naturally resists magic. Any alchemical item, no matter how advanced, still relies on magic. There is no workaround."
He paused, then added gravely,
"This metal was created by ancient wizards to fight against the 'gods.' Only those who wield true ancient magic can control it."
Dumbledore sighed softly.
Where could they possibly find someone capable of using true ancient magic now?
Barty Crouch… how dare you.
Under normal circumstances, Mentore metal was fused with common metals to create shackles used to restrain dangerous wizarding criminals.
Mentore powder, however, had always been controversial—its toxicity was undeniable.
There had once been an incident.
An Auror used Mentore powder to apprehend a suspect, only for the man to be proven innocent. After his release, he sued the Auror and ruined him financially.
From then on, the Ministry strictly limited its use. After several more incidents in which it harmed their own people, Mentore powder was officially classified as a prohibited alchemical substance.
Even during the war against Voldemort, the Ministry had never dared use it recklessly.
What Hydras would do to Barty Crouch once she woke up… was anyone's guess.
"Look!" Grindelwald suddenly exclaimed. "Her body is reacting!"
Hydras began to glow faintly red—mirroring the light of the Philosopher's Stone, as if responding to its presence.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Light and shadow pulsed in rhythm.
"Incredible… truly incredible!" Flamel gasped, eyes wide.
"Her body isn't merely reacting—it's resonating with the Philosopher's Stone! There is no record of anything like this!"
He released the Stone.
It floated above Hydras's forehead, a beam of crimson magic sinking slowly into her brow.
Under the red glow, her muscles subtly writhed—like the final moment before a chrysalis breaks and a butterfly emerges.
The three greatest wizards of their age waited in silence.
"Her breathing has stabilized."
"Her complexion is returning to normal."
"What is the principle behind this?"
"This is… astonishing."
"So this is magic," Flamel whispered.
"Enchanting. Profound. Unfathomable."
"We thought we understood magic," Dumbledore said softly,
"but in truth, we have barely scratched its surface."
Hydras slowly opened her eyes.
She looked curiously at the Philosopher's Stone floating before her.
A sharp pain pierced her fingertip.
She frowned and sat up.
And immediately found herself facing three legendary figures.
"Ah… Professors," she said politely, then glanced at Flamel, "and… this elderly gentleman. I'll need to take care of something first."
She raised her left hand.
At the tip of her ring finger was a small, raised bulge—source of unbearable pain.
Something foreign was lodged inside.
Hydras reached for her wand.
"Diffindo."
With precise control, the Cutting Charm sliced open the skin. Blood welled instantly.
Without hesitation, she pressed down hard.
A metal pellet, no larger than a grain of rice, popped free.
"Amazing!" Flamel cried excitedly.
"That's Mentore metal! How did this child manage that?!"
Hydras examined it carefully.
So this was the thing that had tormented her so severely.
To expel it, she had—under the influence of the Philosopher's Stone—forced open a second magical circuit within her body.
The pain had been indescribable.
But the result…
That newly formed magic circuit was extraordinary. Born of Mentore metal and the Philosopher's Stone, it seemed to exist both within her body and beyond it—elusive, intangible.
"Hydras," Dumbledore said gently, "allow me to introduce you. This is Nicolas Flamel, the renowned alchemist."
"Hello, Mr. Flamel," Hydras said respectfully, bowing.
"This must be your Philosopher's Stone. It's truly an astonishing creation."
She picked it up from the bed.
"But… what is this light on it? Is that magic flowing?"
"Light?"
Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Flamel all froze.
"The Philosopher's Stone isn't glowing," they said in unison.
Hydras traced her finger along faint lines on its surface.
"Right here. This light."
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged confused looks.
Flamel, however, was thunderstruck.
"These lines… those are the rune circuits I engraved during the Stone's final formation!"
"They should have fused completely with the Stone. They shouldn't be visible at all—how can you see them?"
Hydras handed the Stone back and glanced toward the half-empty bottle of sherry on the table—the one worth over four hundred Galleons, crafted using ancient alchemical techniques.
Its surface shimmered faintly with blue ripples.
She understood.
These were echoes of ancient magic—residual traces left behind after ancient magic was cast.
Hydras sighed inwardly.
It really was just a coincidence that she entered Hogwarts at sixteen.
And yet now—like the protagonist of Hogwarts Legacy—she could actually see ancient magic's echoes.
Hogwarts itself was built using ancient magic.
She shuddered at the thought of entering the castle and seeing it flooded with those echoes.
Would she go mad?
The birth of her second magic circuit had bound her fate tightly to ancient magic.
As if destiny itself had wrapped its chains around her.
Hydras was on the verge of tears.
Please, she begged silently, don't give me such a ridiculous character setting.
She didn't want to be a Guardian.
She just wanted to lie flat and be lazy.
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Note:
Since ancient times, there has existed a group of wizards capable of wielding ancient magic. After the tragedy of Isidora Morganach, they took it upon themselves to safeguard its power and knowledge, calling themselves the Guardians.
— Hogwarts Legacy
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