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Chapter 493: Deciduous Tree and Evergreen Tree
Dear Mr. Wade Gray,
I sincerely invite you to visit my old residence in Paris tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock.
Of course, this meeting is entirely informal—no other guests will be present. I hope my invitation does not impose any undue pressure upon you, dear Wade.
Setting aside those exaggerated tales, I am merely an old man who enjoys tinkering with bottles and vials. I believe we could simply sit and chat over tea like any ordinary alchemy enthusiast, sharing all manner of whimsical thoughts.
Attached to this letter is a Portkey, which will activate precisely at three tomorrow afternoon.
I look forward to meeting you.
Yours sincerely,
Nicolas Flamel
……
Time crept closer to three.
Wade took a deep breath, adjusted his collar, and idly twirled the golden coin in his palm—the Portkey.
The coin was roughly the size of a Galleon, devoid of numbers. On its obverse, a rose bloomed at the center, its heart cradling a crimson gemstone. The reverse bore the image of a raven.
Nicolas Flamel’s invitation? No one could refuse it. Wade, of course, was no exception. But to avoid danger, he had prepared thoroughly.
His Cloak Space had been compressed into a pen-sized box, tucked securely into his pocket.
His sleeves bore several black gemstone cufflinks—some capable of explosive force, others able to summon flames. Most importantly, one of them was a Portkey to Hogsmeade, personally crafted by Dumbledore.
Beneath his robes, he wore a Curse-Deflecting Vest—an article he had donned ever since returning from Gray Castle. He wore it whenever he stepped outside, no matter how brief the outing.
Though it couldn’t withstand a Killing Curse or protect against a wizard of Gellert Grindelwald’s caliber, it would at least grant him a crucial second in the face of danger.
“Three o’clock is almost here, Wade.”
“Yeah.”
Wade glanced at the clock, unable to suppress a smile. “I’m about to meet Nicolas Flamel!”
FionaCaution: “Gift?”
“Got it.”
Wade patted his pocket.
Fiona: “Portkey?”
“Right here!”
The radiant coin spun effortlessly between his fingers, gleaming like a captured star.
Fiona: “If you’re staying overnight, make sure to send me a message to confirm you’re safe.”
“Every night at nine,” Wade replied. “Can’t forget.”
Fiona watched her son, pride warring with quiet anxiety in her eyes.
Since Wade had begun attending Magic School, he’d been invited out even during holidays—far more often than most children. Fiona knew she couldn’t keep him locked away forever; for his future, he needed to grow beyond their home.
But every time she saw him leave, a familiar knot of worry tightened in her chest.
“Mom?”
Wade looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Did I get dirt on my face?”
He wiped his cheek twice.
“No,” Fiona said, gently brushing back a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “I’m just… so proud.”
She paused, then added with a wistful sigh: “Think about it—Nicolas Flamel is over six hundred years old. He might have even met Joan of Arc, Galileo, or Shakespeare! I can’t even imagine what fascinating things you two might talk about.”
Wade’s fingers tightened slightly around the coin. He looked up at Fiona, smiling.
“Whether in the magical world or the ordinary one, the pursuit of immortality has never ceased. Maybe one day, with scientific breakthroughs or magical advancements, we’ll all live much longer. I’ve heard the elixir of life Flamel created wasn’t exclusive to wizards… Mom, would you want that?”
“Huh?” Fiona blinked. “Live for hundreds of years?”
“Perhaps even longer,” Wade said casually.
“Hmm…” Fiona paused, deep in thought. “I… I don’t know. It sounds… kind of frightening.”
“Why?”
“Because metabolism is a natural law,” Fiona said softly, her eyes gentle. “Humans are no different. If a tree’s leaves never fall, how could new ones grow?”
“But,” Wade said quietly, “there are Evergreen Trees in nature…”
He didn’t finish.
The grandfather clock in the living room suddenly chimed.
Clang—Clang—Clang—
The raven coin flared with blinding light.
In an instant, Wade vanished.
Fiona’s outstretched hand grasped nothing but empty air.
She froze. Then slowly pulled her hand back, lips pressed tightly together. She sank into her chair, lost in thought for a long while.
Only when she heard the front door creak open did she realize—Ferdinand had returned from work.
She rushed down the stairs in three quick strides.
Ferdinand, still in his coat, smiled at the sudden burst of energy in his wife.
“Wade must’ve already arrived at Mr. Flamel’s house, right?”
“Yeah,” Fiona sighed. “He’s gone.”
“Don’t worry,” Ferdinand said, hanging his coat. “Wade’s prepared for every possible danger. He’ll be fine.”
“I know… I’m not worried about that,” Fiona admitted, frowning. “Well… maybe a little. But that’s not what’s really bothering me.”
“What is it?” Ferdinand took her arm, looked into her eyes, and asked gently: “Is our son finally hitting his rebellious phase?”
Fiona hesitated.
“I… I talked to Wade about something. I told him that just like humans, leaves undergo renewal—natural turnover. But he said… well, he said there are Evergreen Trees in nature too.”
“Evergreen Trees?” Ferdinand paused, stunned. “You’re stressing over this for two hours?”
He glanced at his watch.
“Help me think—how do I shut him down?” Fiona clenched her fist. “I need to make him speechless!”
“Honestly?” Ferdinand laughed. “Evergreen Trees still renew their leaves every year. Old leaves fall, new ones grow. They just live longer—so they appear evergreen.”
“Really?” Fiona asked.
“Of course,” Ferdinand sighed, exasperated. “Wade knows that. He’s just teasing you.”
Fiona didn’t hear the rest. She stood there, dazed, then suddenly whispered: “So… Evergreen Trees don’t resist death or aging. They just live their lives… slower.”
Ferdinand, halfway through pouring himself a glass of water, froze.
He turned slowly toward her.
“Metabolism?” he murmured, almost to himself. “I suppose it’s not just leaves he’s talking about.”
He knew he could press her, and she wouldn’t hide anything. But he didn’t.
Instead, he stared at the memory of his son—always full of light, always curious—feeling an unexpected urge to light a cigarette.
(End of Chapter)
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