The Last of Life
Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer.
- Approach the last of life with eagerness, not gloom,
- for the last of life is the best of life:
- trust God and be not afraid.
- - Abraham Ben-Ezra, c.1092-1167
It was a dark and stormy night, thought Dumbledore. Old Bulwer-Lytton could have filled a page describing this storm! But, an appointment is an appointment. He tightened the collar of the hooded cloak over his long gray beard, and leaned into the cold, driving rain.
Keeping a tight grip on his ancient broom, he followed the familiar path: down the coastline to the Bull Point lighthouse, then inland past the hotel, right again at the bend in the market road, and straightaway toward the dim lights that beckoned to him from the second hill.
He circled the buildings once for identification, and it was indeed the old French-style farmhouse; he landed by the door in the inner courtyard. For Dumbledore, it would be wonderful to see his old friends again.... especially now.
He rapped on the door; then, opened the cloak long enough to reach for his wand, waving it with the word "Lingus." That would simplify the evening. He was far from proficient in ancient Flemish, and his hosts had lived apart from the world for so long, never quite learning any modern language.
The door opened, with a welcoming wave of heat and light. A familiar face peered around the door.
"Good evening, Nell," said Dumbledore. "My, you're extremely pretty tonight -- but aren't you always!"
"Albus, you old flirt -- but aren't you always!" smiled the lady, welcoming him in with a long, warm hug. "Come in, dry off."
"It's quite a night out there. Were it not for an Impervius charm on the cloak, I would be soaked to the bones."
"It's just your hair; must you wear it so long? It makes you look old! Here, let me dry it."
"Don't fuss now, Nell, I'll be fine."
"Yes, yes, yes. It will only take a moment, see. So, you are still surviving the strain of being the mother of 400 puppies. Are they grinding you down yet?"
"To a middling, Nell. But it would take far more than the antics of my students to finish the job."
"We were pleased to get your owl about the visit, but you really should not have come on such a night! We would have understood."
"Putting off a visit to the Flamels has never been a problem; there was always a next time. Now time is precious, and I did not want to delay myself needlessly. You understand."
"Of course. So glad you could come! Nico is waiting for you in the library."
"And how is he tonight?"
"He is well, Albus, but... beginning to slow down now, of course. We both are. He is still in quite good spirits, and he keeps busy outdoors every day. Our health remains for the moment, and we're alert."
"And do you regret your decision, Nell?"
"Not at all. Every story must have an end; ours has lacked one for too long. A strange new road, and we will travel it together, Nico and I, as we always have....... There you are, Professor, all dry. Now let me check the kitchen while you visit with my beau. And don't nibble too much cheese in there or you'll spoil dinner."
"I can never nibble enough of cheese fresh from the farm, Nell."
Dumbledore bowed his way out of the hall and opened the library doors, only to deeply bow again.
"Master Flamel, greetings; I am your appointed owl! I come to congratulate you on your 11th birthday, and bid you welcome to the student body at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The old man smiled. "11 and a few more here and there, but thank you, Sir Owl! I will be coming to your school eventually, and when I do, I intend to stay. For tonight, I will sit here, and sip cognac, and enjoy dinner with a good friend, and listen to a tape of La Boheme on my trusty Wollensak. Now, fly home and tell old man Dumbledore he's every bit a horse's other end as always."
"Hush!" said Dumbledore, sitting by the roaring fire. "That's a carefully guarded secret, but far too many students and teachers know it already. And be careful, young Nicholas! They say Dumbledore has ears and eyes everywhere."
"Well, I'd suspect his nosy friend, the Sorting Hat. Won't it leave, so I might be the oldest curmudgeon at Hogwarts? I'll take its place. I'm just as old and leathery."
Dumbledore laughed. "When I return to Hogwarts, I will have to tell that curious hat everything about my trip. Otherwise, I will have no peace in my office until I do!"
"If it turns you away at the door, here you are welcome as always. How I've envy you, Albus! At your age, you fearlessly fly here from Scotland through a terrible ocean storm, while my old bones hardly carry me from here to the milk pond now."
"Nell tells me you're still doing your farmboy chores."
"Less and less. After the milking tomorrow, the neighbor will be taking my cows and dog, as we arranged. Today I busied myself shutting down my laboratory, and straightening my muddle of records. They should be ready by the end of the week, God willing. You'll see to their transport, won't you?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Madam Pince of my library is avidly awaiting your collection, Nicholas. And why would she not -- over six hundred years of private research records, in pristine condition?"
"I hope she knows they're full of my 'sketches', so she won't blame the children."
"Your sketches are well-known, from the few books made public. Scholars still try to interpret them; one would think they were engineering diagrams from Da Vinci. We won't tell anyone they're just doodles."
Flamel grinned broadly. "That's a good fellow, Dumbledore, keep them guessing about me! Keep me mystical, always slightly over the next fence. Here, enjoy Nell's cheese before Nicholas the dormouse eats it all. Your favourite cognac to warm you?"
"That would be pleasureable. Tell me, do you still decant from your own barrels?"
"Oh, hopefully that will be the last pleasure to go! And I hope you will enjoy the contents of my extensive wine cellar for many, many years. I will have several bottles of my 17th century Bordeaux left over -- Chateau Marivaux, we've always called it, after our beloved home in Paris. You will save that for very special occasions, I'm sure, but we will enjoy one tonight over dinner. And knowing you, Dumbledore, I must impart a warning. Certainly do NOT send your horde of bug-eyed owls to carry my wines to Hogwarts. I would never entrust a fine wine to an owl!"
"On the appointed date for such a move, Nicholas, I will personally wrap each bottle as carefully as I would a baby. Some magic may be involved in quietly moving the collection; nevertheless, all will be done with great care."
"Oh, not those damnable portals, Albus! My hip still bothers me from falling a half-metre to the pavement when you took us to Paris for the '31 exposition. Imagine a 400-year wine collection arriving like that, and exploding on your stone floors in one disastrous moment!"
"Relax, Nicholas, no portkeys; in one night, it will be crated, then sailed out of here invisibly up the sea, then brought overland, floating just above the ground, and let down gently. We will not carelessly shake the barrels, either."
"Excellent, Albus. And.... the burial arrangements?"
Dumbledore paused a moment, sipping his cognac. "It's still hard to comprehend that we'd ever have this topic of conversation.... but yes, Nicholas; the arrangements have been made. It will be a fine memorial for the ages. I'm sure you realize that Beauxbatons felt somewhat scorned by your decision to be interred in Scotland."
"Fine time for that. No reflection on the homeland I love, Albus, but there were those at Beauxbatons who felt I was not really one of them -- and then, too, they resented a Brit was my closest friend and co-worker, and the fact I retired to England."
"Be assured, the tablet will read 'the legendary French magician'."
"It pleases me. More cognac for your chill, Albus?"
"My insides are quite warmed, thank you."
"As are mine. I must say, Nell and I am quite calm about all this. After more than six centuries, to now face certain death! Of course, it's something which could have come by illness or happenstance all this time, but did not. We've been blessed to live this long, despite all the wars, famines and plagues. The elixir only slowed the effects of aging, but physically we are now in our 90s anyway. The days are as long as ever, Albus, but oh, we move through them so slowly!"
"Some of our best-tempered house-elves will be arriving on Monday to cook and tend. What remains of your elixir?"
"What we have taken will last weeks; the remainder would give us a few weeks more, at most. One by one, Nell and I will come to stay with you, before Spring arrives. I hear Scotland is must lovely in the Springtime."
"Indeed. The memorial will be behind the Great Hall, overlooking the lake. The sunrise warms that spot all year long. And as you suggested, some of your vineyard will be brought to our gardens. We may have to charm it to grow well that far north, but we will try."
"It sounds to be a most restful spot."
"I trust it will be. We have far too many restless souls wandering the school."
"Oh, no ghost's life for me. And for heaven's sake, don't hang me on the wall in one of those blasted pictures of yours; I'm going to catch up on six centuries of missed naps, and don't want to be interrupted taking passwords or giving directions."
"You can rest easy. And is there anything I can do for you while I'm here?"
"Perhaps you can help me here in the library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are beautiful, but a luxurious error when it comes time to move all the books. I need to empty the top shelves."
"I will see to it after dinner... but why don't you merely wave your wand and do it, Nicholas?"
Flamel chuckled. "You toy with me about that, as you always have, my friend; you toy with me! Today, I am accepted among the greatest magicians of the world -- yet I am not even mentioned in the old magical books. Has it ever dawned on your young scholars to ask why?"
"It shan't be a concern to them, Nicholas. As children, they will eat their chocolate frogs and find your picture underneath. As students, they will hear of your long life, and the discoveries you made. As adults, they will write new books -- and Nicholas Flamel will always be the world-famous long-lived French magician."
Flamel smiled. "You've seen to that, haven't you, my friend, even as I forbade it! Were it not for you, I'd have been forgotten, which would have been just as well. You touted me as a discoverer of the Philosopher's Stone and many of the potions common today. Yes, I did all that, and I'm both proud and humbled. Thanks to you, for eighty of my many years, we've reveled in all the honour and recognition. Nell and I have enjoyed carte-blanche access to every nook in the magical world, and seen the most wonderful and marvelous things."
"You deserved it, Nicholas."
"Did I? There are magicians, and then there are magicians! I was a medieval alchemist, and as such they called me a 'magician'. But, in true magic terms, I'm a simple old muggle who could never so much as lift a feather by magic -- and now, no one will know, because you have dressed me in the false robes of a great magician, and will bury me in them."
"Your fame was fleeting, Nicholas; I restored it to its proper place."
"I cannot tell you how much it meant to us to share your world. I've asked myself, what could a pair of aged muggles give the great Albus Dumbledore that he does not have? So, Nell and I decided on the only adequate means of thanks we have left in this world. Its value to you will be trivial, but I'm sure you will appreciate its significance nonetheless. Sipping your cognac tonight, Albus, you became the last man on earth to taste the elixir of life."