She woke up in the brightly lit hospital wing and was instantly aware of the person seated to her right. Their magic was unusual - like a blue church steeple that had been propped up by crimson scaffolding. She tried to sit up but a hand held her down, pushing her firmly back into the pillows.

'You've been severely injured. It would be best if you remained reclined for now.' The voice instructed and she recognised it immediately.

'Flamel?' She asked. Her voice was rough, like she'd escaped from a burning building. Come to think of it her entire body felt tender and raw.

'Yes. I received your letter - and apparently just in time too; if I hadn't arrived when I did, we wouldn't have been able to save you.'

'Save me?' She questioned.

'Surely you remember? The stone is the cure for all ills?' Flamel huffed, sounding slightly offended. Hermione did remember that but she had been certain Voldemort's curse would kill her. She said as much and Flamel hummed in consideration.

'Interaction between spells has always been more your field of interest than my own, but I believe the enchantments that Mrs. Potter left on young Mr. Potter accelerated the exorcism you performed on Quirrel. As such, Voldemort's curse was only half-formed.'

'Exorcism?' Hermione asked, then winced at how stupid she'd sounded. To her surprise, Flamel seemed to find it hilarious.

'Only a Grindelwald could accidentally exorcise a dark wizard. Somehow, the entire wizarding world knows that you and Potter exorcised Lord Voldemort. Professor Quirrel is recovering in St. Mungos, after which he will stand trial and be taken taken to Azkaban. It seems the population has seen fit to reward you with chocolate.' Flamel gestured around them to what Hermione assumed what a pile of chocolate; without turning, she wouldn't be able to see.

'And the stone?' Hermione asked. She was very aware that they had yet to actually kill Voldemort. He would be back, and the stone would still be his prime target.

'Destroyed. If Albus Dumbledore could not keep it out of the wrong hands, the only option is to destroy it.'

'But you'll die!' Hermione gasped, sitting up despite Flamel's protests.

'Death is but the next great adventure. As a young witch so aptly pointed out; eternal life is not the same as eternal youth.' He winked at her meaningfully and Hermione pursed her lips.

'Did I say that?' She asked after a moment.

'Ah, perhaps you haven't said it yet.' Flamel amended quickly. 'How fascinating. What I mean is that whilst I have yet to succumb to old age, I am not immune to it. Perenell and I are old and tired and we look forwards to a good, long rest.'

Flamel paused, snagging a cauldron cake off a mountain of sweets and holding it out to her. She sook her head and he unwrapped it, crumbs falling onto his grubby work robes.

'My only regret is that the stone really must be destroyed - it is an alchemical marvel, a true tool of good in the right hands.'

'I see you've already ruined you appetite?' Another voice said archly and Hermione glanced over to see Perenell peering through the curtains. She was burdened with a tray which bore three steaming bowls of soup and a loaf of crusty french bread. The elderly witch tapped the tray with her wand and it hovered just above Hermione's lap. She passed a bowl to her husband as well, then conjured herself a stool and took her own bowl. 'It's very good to see you again, Hermione dearest.'

'As I was saying...' Nicholas pulled his bushy eyebrows together as he tore up his bread and dunked it into his soup. 'We have enough elixir remaining to get our affairs in order, then we shall be embarking on our next adventure.'

'Fortunately, Nicholas believes our affairs are rather simple.' Perenell said breezily. 'You see, after many, many years, we have finally met someone who has no interest in using the stone for selfish gain.'

'I'm not sure I understand.' Hermione said slowly, even though she had a niggling suspicion.

'The stone will be destroyed, dearest.' Perenell answered, 'but a certain young witch will inherit all of Nick's work and materials, including a rather ugly ruby necklace.'

And Nicholas pulled out a large stone, slightly smaller than her fist, which had been strung onto a leather thong. She knew immediately what it was, the powerful magical signature was the glowing embodiment of purity and light.

'You won't be able to use it until Voldemort is defeated, but I suspect your Sect has many hiding places for similar treasures.'

'I thought you knew that I didn't want to use it?' Hermione asked. She could barely tear her eyes away from the stone - it was beautiful, not just in appearance but in magic as well and it called to her like her crown once had.

'I will let you in on a secret, Hermione.' Flamel leaned in and his wife followed. 'I did not make this stone, I found it. I was sick, dying of the plague and I fled home so that Perenell wouldn't get sick too. I took my staff, but little else.'

'It was a trophy, from one of our ancestors many, many centuries ago. A shard of some enemy dark witch's staff. Even that fragment was a powerful magical artefact.' Perenell continued the story.

'I put all of my magic into one last apparition, and the staff took me to where the rest of it's shards still lay. I appeared in a throne room, certainly of fey origin - no wixen could build something like that. The walls were smooth, like they had grown from the rock and the floor was a single piece of dark blue stone that glittered like the night sky. There was a glowing throne on the dais, and at the foot of the throne, I found the rest of the staff.' Nicholas Flamel's eyes misted in remembrance of the place. 'This stone was fixed into it, and it called to me even more than the throne. I crawled across the floor, and touched it. My sickness was healed in a wash of light, and I felt healthier than ever before.'

'Then,' Perenell had finished her soup and she plopped the bowl back onto the tray with a clack that betrayed her derision, 'the fool removed the stone from the staff and apparated away, without even trying to find out where he was. We found out what the stone did soon enough and after much study, we managed to deduce much of how it worked.'

'I remember very little of the place where I found it; I was delirious from lack of water and food, but I recognised this...' Flamel reached out and picked up her hand, tilting it this way and that so that the light glinted off her seal. 'On that rather wonderful dress you wore during Yule.'

Perenell slapped his hands off hers, apologising for his inappropriate behaviour. Hermione had already gathered that manners were hardly Nicholas' strong suit, so quickly forgave him for examining her seal so closely.

'The throne was decorated with these - I thought it odd for years afterwards that someone would create such an accurate carving, but misrepresent a wolf.'

'Avalon.' Hermione breathed. 'You went to Avalon. Morgana was a famous healer - because she had the philosopher's stone!'

'And now, I have returned it to the line of Gorlois.' Nicholas Flamel finished. A smile traced his lips. 'So, as far as the world is concerned, the philosopher's stone has been destroyed. You have inherited my work and a part of the broken Gorlois staff - nothing of much interest to a dark lord seeking immortality. Perenell and I shall donate our entire fortune to Beauxbatons, and embark on the next great adventure.'

The famous philosopher reached out and took his wife's hand, wrapping their fingers together.

'Thank you.' Hermione finally said after a moment of shocked silence. There was something incredibly sad about watching the two ancient wixen and knowing that very soon they would be dead.

'You are truly great witch, Hermione.' Perenell reached out and clasped the young witch's hands. They sat for a moment, Hermione clinging onto the stone and Perenell's hands encasing hers. Then, with a sigh the two Flamels stood and straightened their clothing. Perenell took the tray off Hermione's lap and Nicholas stole one last cauldron cake.

Perenell swept the curtains open around her bed and they both left, looking dignified and incomprehensibly brave.

'Ah yes, Hermione darling?' Perenell hesitated at the doorway. 'Please do come to the funeral.'

Hermione swallowed back tears, nodding as the Flamels left the hospital wing. She didn't know them well, but she knew that she would get to know them and it would be all the more bitter-sweet because she'd been to their funeral already.