Chapter 388 Here Is France!
Evan was uncertain of his thoughts. This crimson identification plate was utterly absurd. It demanded him to venture thousands of feet into the sea to find a deceased evil spirit.
He was not going to do it; he did not want to die.
Who knew if there were other monsters in the depths of the sea besides this wicked dead god? Not to mention the terror and oppression emanating from the endless abyss. Just by gazing at the endless stream of Dementors before him, Evan despised the idea of getting closer.
Especially, he had not yet studied or understood what this identification plate was. It was odd that there was no danger in the strange object left by the evil god created by Herpo the Foul.
For instance, if it aided in absorbing the essence of the evil dead god, thus facilitating the resurrection of the malevolent spirit on the identification plate, the situation would be dreadful!
As time passed, Evan's soul wandered alone in the depths of the ocean.
When he grew bored of the enormous octopus before him, the crimson identification plate shimmered again, and once more, he had another peculiar experience akin to when he encountered Pettigrew.
But this time, his soul was swiftly returning to his body!
Finally, he could leave that place and return to the real world.
The scene before him swiftly passed, and Evan, guided by the identification plate, circled around the massive octopus in the dark sea, then approached its head.
In the deepest part, there was a gap in the rock, and Evan could barely see what appeared to be a sunken city behind it.
Before he could see clearly, everything distorted.
When he awoke, Evan found himself not in the grim and dark Azkaban; he was now lying in a luxurious room in a classic French style, the mattress beneath him was soft and comfortable, and the room was adorned with a noble and elegant aristocratic style.
There was a faint scent in the air, smelling of strawberries.
A chain of wind chimes hung by the window and tinkled with the breeze.
In the afternoon, the golden sunlight shone through the beautifully decorated windows, radiating warmth.
The colorful hanging magical lamp spun.
Everything at that moment was filled with warmth and dreams.
"Where am I, and what place is this?" Evan sat up, incredulously saying, "Am I dreaming?"
Everything before him was so different from the dark style of Azkaban that Evan felt an unreal sensation of being in a dream.
"Here is France," Sirius' voice sounded behind him.
He entered from the outer living room and joyfully said, "Thank goodness, you've finally awakened!"
"How long have I been in a coma?" Evan asked.
"Almost three days, Dumbledore said you have strange magical marks, but nothing troublesome. He didn't believe it necessary to forcefully wake you up," Sirius explained, "when the magic in your body would dissipate, you would naturally awaken," he said.
Sirius took a chair and sat next to Evan.
"What exactly happened? What did you see?" he hurriedly asked.
"The corpse of a terrible monster is in the sea beneath Azkaban," Evan sighed and said, "without a doubt. It is an evil god as I told you before."
"That thing again?" Sirius frowned, "How could it be in Azkaban, hidden in the depths of the sea?"
"It is neither of the ones I saw before, this is a new malevolent spirit," Evan said weakly, "but that is no longer important. It is now dead. Only a corpse remains there still producing Dementors."
Sirius was stunned upon learning that the Dementors were born in this manner.
Evan gestured indifferently. Anyone who gazed at that entity and the newly born Dementors for such a long time would feel the same numbness as he did.
"Bueno, now should you tell me, why have we come to France?" Evan asked. "And where is Dumbledore?"
Three days ago, after you fainted, we spoke with Peter Pettigrew and questioned him all about Voldemort's Curse," Sirius sighed and continued, "He told us everything, but Dumbledore thought the information he had was nonsensical. Voldemort didn't seem to trust him; he was deceiving him and did not reveal the true way to break the curse."
He was extremely dissatisfied, waving his fist in the air with vigor.
"That fool Peter used to be like that. He adored great power but lacked the slightest ability to distinguish truth from lies. He was easily misled by Voldemort and accomplished nothing," said Sirius indignantly. "James actually died because of his betrayal. He was never worth it. I never thought there could be such a foolish creature!"
"Given that we cannot discern what this curse is," Evan looked again at the circular snake bracelet on his right wrist, "then there is only one way to restore the Philosopher's Stone intact. We should investigate that."
"Yes, Dumbledore has a clue. He will confirm it!" Sirius looked at Evan. "Before that, he thought it necessary for his friend to take a look at this Philosopher's Stone, so we came to France first, seeking..."
"To the alchemist Nicolas Flamel!" Evan knew all about him. "He is the last master of alchemy, the wizard recognized as the oldest in the magical world, the creator of the Elixir of Life using the Philosopher's Stone and Dumbledore's companion in alchemy."
Sirius was astonished to hear Evan say so much information at once, and a smile appeared on his lips. "I knew nothing could be hidden from you."
"Then have we found him?" Evan asked hastily.
"EUREKA! Dumbledore brought us here," said Sirius. "We didn't have to exert much effort to come to France. Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel retired to England, but after destroying the Philosopher's Stone two years ago, they decided to spend the rest of their lives in their homeland, France."
"So, are we in Nicolas's house right now?" Evan looked around. The decor style of this room was overly luxurious.
It seemed they were not in the famous alchemist's house at that moment. It resembled the house of an old aristocratic family or a pure-blood wizard.
"Nicolas Flamel has been living in his alma mater since returning to France. By the way, he's a professor of potions and alchemy at the school!" Sirius paused and continued, "This is the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."