Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

In the fireplace, which had undoubtedly seen countless years, dry firewood crackled and popped as it burned. ♦ ♦ ♪ ♦

As he spoke, Nicolas Flamel settled back into his armchair and raised his hand, casually beckoning towards another armchair placed not far away.

This simple gesture seemed to trigger some precise and unknown mechanism. In the next second, the armchair came to life, its four small, nimble wooden legs cheerfully hopping towards Nicolas Flamel, gently tapping against the floor with a crisp, tap-dance-like rhythm.

"Alright."

Charlie didn't refuse. Seeing that the armchair was still and steady, he nodded, walked over to Nicolas Flamel, and sat down slowly.

He's too thin... That was Charlie's first thought when he saw the other man up close. His cheekbones were slightly prominent, but there was no hint of flesh around his jaw. His eye sockets were deeply sunken, making his already deep-set eyes even more impenetrable.

The exposed forearm outside his sleeve was less than half the thickness of Charlie's own. His fair skin was almost transparent, and one could vaguely see the movement of every vein, artery, and blood vessel within...

"Cough, cough..."

It wasn't until the host coughed twice, seemingly unintentionally, that Charlie was pulled back to reality from his brief trance.

Charlie blinked hard a couple of times. Seeing that Nicolas Flamel was still looking at him with a smile, without saying anything, Charlie suddenly remembered the purpose of his visit. He quickly reached into his pocket, took out the Philosopher's Stone, and respectfully handed it to the old man in front of him.

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"Master Nicolas Flamel... This is something Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to bring to you. Please accept it."

"Very well, thank you."

Nodding, Nicolas Flamel thanked him and slowly raised his bony arm, gently taking the Philosopher's Stone from Charlie's hand.

This simple action made Charlie feel a little nervous, as if he were afraid that the old man would not be able to hold the weight of the stone and would twist his arm.

But as it turned out, Charlie had worried too much. Although he looked frail, Nicolas Flamel, who had been taking the Elixir of Life, was actually in better physical condition than some fifty-year-old Muggles...

After taking the Philosopher's Stone from Charlie, Nicolas Flamel's expression didn't change much. He simply glanced at it, and then casually placed it, along with the parchment wrapping, on the coffee table. Then, he shifted his gaze back to Charlie.

The coffee table, which had just settled down, was about to start moving again when it saw its master placing something on it. But Nicolas Flamel reached out and gently patted it, and the coffee table instantly became well-behaved again, turning back into an ordinary coffee table, staying still without any movement, as if everything Charlie had seen was just a hallucination.

"Does it... have its own life?" Charlie's eyes widened slightly as he asked in a low voice, scrutinizing the coffee table in front of him, as if trying to find out where the alchemical symbols were engraved.

"No, it's just that some modifications have been made to the magic runes to make its operating principle look smoother. In fact, it still hasn't reached the state of a living being."

Nicolas Flamel waved his hand, answering Charlie's question casually, but the technology contained in his words was enough to make ninety percent of the alchemists in the world feel ashamed.

Speaking of this, he seemed to have been piqued by this topic and continued to elaborate unhurriedly, "However, if alchemy reaches a certain level, it is not impossible to create living beings..."

Just as Nicolas Flamel was about to say something more, a sound of footsteps coming from downstairs interrupted him. The two of them turned their gaze at the same time, looking towards the staircase, only to see Perenelle walking up with a delicate tray holding a teapot and teacups, smiling.

"Nicolas, your tea is ready..."

As she spoke, Perenelle walked unhurriedly to the two men and placed a beautiful, large-bellied white porcelain teapot and two small porcelain cups with patterns on the coffee table.

"Thank you, dear."

Looking at his wife, the light finally returned to Nicolas Flamel's originally deep eyes, and his smile became even brighter than before.

Perenelle returned his gaze with an amiable smile.

"I won't disturb you any longer. You two can chat slowly."

With that, Perenelle walked back down the stairs, leaving the quiet atmosphere to Charlie and Nicolas Flamel once more.

The chamomile tea gently swayed in the beautiful, large-bellied white porcelain teapot, and a faint fragrance wafted out from the spout, giving people a refreshing feeling even with just a simple sniff.

Nicolas skillfully waved his hand with a smile, and the two small porcelain cups and the teapot moved on their own, like a scene often seen in Disney animations. The movements were still smooth and full of vitality, as if they were truly living creatures.

After the two cups of chamomile tea were poured full and flew into their respective hands, Nicolas lowered his head, took a sip of the fragrant flower tea, and continued, "Legend has it... the first house-elves were tools created by alchemists, just like this coffee table, or the teacup in your hand, and the teapot on the coffee table. However, their constant improvement, modification, and sublimation of these tools led to the house-elves, who were supposed to be tools, developing their own consciousness, having hearts, emotions, and feelings..."

He slightly raised his drooping eyelids, glancing at Charlie as if unintentionally.

"They gained a status in the definition of nature equal to that of other life forms, capable of survival, capable of reproduction, capable of using unique magic."

With that, Nicolas put down the teacup in his hand, raised his head, and once again looked at Charlie with his wise and profound eyes, asking word by word,

"And regarding their identity, are they tools, friends, or something else... Charlie, what do you think?"

Obviously, Headmaster Dumbledore had really told Nicolas Flamel a lot about Charlie, so much so that a question that seemed casual and offhand from the other party could be like a sharp blade with a tricky angle, stabbing straight at Charlie's vital point.