The Philosopher's Stone had never been capable of enhancing a wizard's magical power. In that regard, Haerpo was far more experienced. Whether it was the Pain Mask or the Wizard's Heart, both were alchemical creations he had developed specifically to amplify magic.
Nicolas Flamel knew nothing of Haerpo's existence. He mistook the hooded man in black before him for Voldemort, unaware that the real Voldemort was the rat at the man's feet.
"Search his memories. Perfectly erasing memory isn't that simple," the rat spoke.
Voldemort was highly skilled in Legilimency. He was confident that by probing Nicolas's mind, he would uncover traces of the truth.
But who was Haerpo? Would he need guidance from a junior like Voldemort? Just as he was about to cast his spell, the entire castle began to tremble.
"Ah, my memory must be failing with age," Nicolas said apologetically. "I forgot to tell you—the castle is about to collapse."
"You're that eager to die?" Haerpo asked calmly.
"I've lived long enough," Nicolas replied.
"To think someone would grow tired of living. How ridiculous," Haerpo sneered. Nicolas's words felt like mockery to someone who had clung to life for thousands of years.
The massive castle began collapsing from its very foundation. Unlike the slow, dramatic crumbling seen in films, it fell like a building rigged with explosives—collapsing in an instant into ruins.
This was the castle's self-destruct alchemical array. In Nicolas's understanding, no wizard could survive such a collapse—not even Dumbledore.
His domain was also protected by anti-Apparition wards. Escaping through teleportation was impossible, and attempting to fly out would only result in being crushed by falling debris.
Nicolas and his wife had already prepared themselves to perish alongside Voldemort. But Haerpo's abilities would ensure their deaths were in vain.
Haerpo activated his spatial magic once more. Massive chunks of falling stone passed straight through his body, as if he didn't exist. The air around him seemed warped.
Nicolas, who had lived over six hundred years, had never seen such magic. He stared in disbelief at the unharmed figure before him. He knew his death was meaningless—but at least Hoff had escaped.
Beside him, his wife smiled gently. In the final moments of her life, her husband was still by her side. She felt nothing but peace.
"Nick… thank you for these six hundred years."
"No… I should be the one thanking you."
As the castle collapsed completely, Nicolas spoke his final words. Perhaps his wife didn't hear them clearly, but from his eyes, she already understood.
Moments ago, it had been a magnificent castle. Now, it was nothing but ruins beneath a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, a lone figure stood in the center of the wreckage.
Haerpo remained completely unharmed. Not even his robe was torn.
Beneath the rubble, stones shifted. Something was crawling out.
A rat, covered in dust, struggled free from the debris. If it had been any larger, it would have been crushed to death.
"You lunatic!" Voldemort cursed. "You actually tried to take me down with you!"
"Oh? You're still alive. Quite resilient," Haerpo said mockingly.
Ignoring the taunt, Voldemort asked, "Flamel is dead. What about the Philosopher's Stone? Are we just giving up?"
"I don't give up so easily on anything I set my mind to," Haerpo replied.
From a righteous man, such words might sound inspiring. But from a villain like him, they carried an unsettling weight.
Though the castle had collapsed, the two protective barriers remained intact. Hoff could feel the ground shaking, but he couldn't see what was happening within.
"Master…" he murmured uneasily toward the castle's direction.
Meanwhile, outside the elf village, two handsome silver-haired male elves blocked Sean and Dumbledore.
"Outsiders are forbidden from entering the village. Even if you are Arwen's friend, there are no exceptions."
"He is injured. He needs help," Arwen said.
"You saw that man earlier. We don't know how he found this place, and he immediately challenged our strongest warrior. We cannot be certain these two humans are unrelated to him," one of the elves said.
When Ogadis had shouted from outside the village's magical barrier, the other elves had watched anxiously from within. They had all sensed his terrifying power and feared for the village's safety.
"They have nothing to do with him. He was injured by that man," Arwen said, pointing at Dumbledore.
"And this child?"
"He is my student. We are from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain," Dumbledore replied.
Meanwhile, Sean was quietly observing the hidden village with his Magic vision. The barrier surrounding it radiated immense magical power.
In truth, given enough time, Sean could probably locate the village himself—even without Arwen's guidance. But entering it would be another matter entirely.
"Raven, for my sake, let them in," Arwen said.
The elf named Raven hesitated. Arwen held a special status in the village. Bearing the Selwyn name and being the most powerful mage among them, she commanded immense respect.
The name Selwyn carried profound significance among the elves—it was the name of their ancestor.
"Arwen, don't make this difficult for me. The chief would never allow it. This has been our rule for thousands of years," Raven said, glancing at Sean and Dumbledore. "If an outsider wishes to enter… they must never leave."
Sean's heart sank. That was unacceptable. If they couldn't leave, what about everything outside? What about Haerpo and Voldemort? Without Dumbledore, Hogwarts would fall.
Arwen sighed helplessly. She stepped closer to Dumbledore and spoke in a low voice, "This is the law of our people. Any human wizard who enters… never leaves."
"To heal your injury, you'll need the power of the Holy Sword."
"Can't the sword be brought out?" Sean couldn't help asking.
Arwen shook her head. "The sword is embedded in a massive stone. No one has ever been able to pull it out."
"The Sword in the Stone…" Sean immediately thought of King Arthur's legend.
Dumbledore coughed heavily. Though he had been enduring it, the blood at the corner of his lips revealed the severity of his condition.
Before, Sean couldn't even look directly at Dumbledore due to the brilliance of his magical aura. Now, that light was fading rapidly. It was clear—Dumbledore couldn't hold on much longer.
"What kind of poison is Ogadis's magic? In just a few days, it's devoured a great wizard's power."
Worried that Dumbledore might collapse, Sean made up his mind. "Professor, let's enter the village first. We'll heal your injury, then figure out what to do next."
With Haerpo and Voldemort lurking in the shadows, Dumbledore couldn't afford to be trapped in the village. He hesitated.
"Professor," Sean continued, "there's an old saying in the East—'As long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood.'"
Dumbledore considered it. Only by staying alive could he continue to oppose Haerpo and Voldemort. If he died, everything would be lost.
"Arwen, we're going in," Dumbledore said.
Sean still didn't understand why humans who entered the village could never leave. But if it was magic, then there was always a possibility of breaking it.
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