~30th of August 1986.~

 

~ Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Southwest Pyrénées, France.~

 

Grim. 

 

Was the only world to describe the current atmosphere of this majestic and illustrious wizarding school. 

 

Normally, the weather around this time of the year was warm, evident by the usual mild sunny days that was characteristic of the southwest Pyrénées of France.

 

However, today, the weather was far from that. The skies were gloomy and leaden. The winds were strong, icy and withering, with gusts of them bathing the grandiose Beauxbatons chateau in slight frost. Thus, giving the feeling that death itself was gracing its glorious grounds.

 

Thunderstorms raged in the sky, with violent blue lighting illuminating the gloomy gray skies ever so often, and rain pouring down vehemently, drowning the sounds of everything else and permeating its poetic lament to the region.

 

If one looked at those Thunderclouds, they would be surprised to see a navy blue feathered bird flying around. Aella had been constantly flying around the Pyrénées for roughly a week now, and bathing the region with fierce thunderstorms.

 

She was staring fixedly at a specific location behind the Beauxbatons chateau as she hovered around it. The location she was staring at was packed with thousands upon thousands of wizards, who were all wearing black and holding umbrellas.

 

They were all quietly standing around and looking at a simple but beautiful tomb. The tomb was made of white marble and had numerous vibrant flowers and decorations around it.

 

 In front of the tomb was an epitaph, also made of white marble. Though, the words inscribed on it were done in gold.

 

After about half an hour, the wizards started to slowly return to the Beauxbatons chateau, still not talking much as today was a day to be somber. 

 

Today, the eternal couple that graced the world with their greatness for 6 centuries were laid to rest peacefully.

 

At the front of the horde of wizardkind, a young boy stood emotionlessly, blankly staring at the epitaph of the Flamel tomb.

 

The boy was wearing a three-piece suit and had his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be downcast and deep in thought, evident by the fact that he was seemingly oblivious to all the eyes that were on him, some of which were expressing pity, some concern, and some….malice.

 

‘Maman, Papa, rest in peace.’ 

 

Adrien thought as he peered at his parent’s tomb. The past week had been horrendous for him, to say the very least. 

 

Initially, he was confused at the sudden loss of his parents. He couldn’t quite fathom how it was possible to exist in the world for one moment, and completely disappear the next. It nearly drove him crazy….This was the first stage of Adrien Flamel’s grief: Denial.

 

Then, he became angry, mostly at himself. Why didn’t he try to look for a way to help them live a bit longer? What was stopping him from doing that? Why did he ignore their gradually worsening condition? 

 

What the fuck was Dumbledore doing as well? Isn’t he supposed to be a powerful wizard? Can’t he find some way to help them?

 

He asked himself so many questions and boiled in anger, resenting himself for his uselessness….This was the second stage of Adrien Flamel’s grief: Anger.

 

Like that, Adrien underwent the 5 stages of grief. Now, he was at the last stage of his grief and had come to terms with his parent’s death, thus accepting reality in the process. 

 

Adrien Flamel had passed his first emotional tribulation…in flying colors as well.

 

He had accepted the fact that his parents were always going to die when he was young. His miraculous birth had sapped all their vitality and sealed their previously indefinite lifespan.

 

His parents had lived a long and fulfilling life, and it was simply their time to go. Their legacies would forever be remembered in the wizarding world, and he was going to make sure of that.

 

-Are you alright?-  Beside him, Fleur, who was holding the umbrella that both of them were under, asked him concernedly. She had a worried and troubled expression on her delicate face.

 

For the entire week, she had been extremely distressed watching her only friend go through his stages of grief. She couldn’t even eat properly after seeing him so sad.

 

She had repeatedly tried to make him feel better by consoling him and trying to divert his mind away from the loss of his parents.

 

With her intelligent mind, she understood that it must probably be very difficult for him and had even given him a hug, but unfortunately, everything she tried was for naught.

 

Even now, she was still concerned, which was why she asked her question.

 

Adrien turned to face Fleur and smiled reassuringly.

 

-Yeah I’m fine now. Thank you for being there for me.- he thanked, sincerely. He appreciated the extra mile she had gone to ease his sorrow.

 

Fleur’s expression immediately brightened. She beamed a dazzling smile and was about to respond when an old, calm voice suddenly sounded beside Adrien.

 

“Adrien, we’ll leave for Godric’s Hollow tomorrow. Be sure to prepare.” Dumbledore said, his voice laced with tones of exhaustion.

 

‘Old man, can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation?’ Adrien frowned inwardly upon hearing Dumbledore’s statement.

 

Seriously, this guy’s timing was abysmal.

 

“Right, will do.” Adrien replied coolly.

 

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, before politely excusing himself, leaving the two young ones to their activities. Frankly, he was exhausted…dreadfully exhausted.

 

He and one other old man were the only ones who understood the true consequences and far-reaching effects caused by Nicolas and Perenelle Flamle’s death. The event was going to drastically reshape the status quo of Magical Europe…and possibly the entire globe.

 

The other man, Antoine Lestrange, had a subtle wicked grin as he gazed at the tomb of the Flamel couple. He was incomparably excited. Those old geezers had finally kicked the bucket, and presented him with the opportunity of a lifetime.

For Antoine Lestrange, their death meant many things, the most important one being that now, he had no political and economic rival across the entirety of France. The Flamels were the only ones keeping his family in check, and now that they were gone, France was his for the taking.

 

There was simply no one who could contest with the Lestranges. The Duponts, the family of the current minister for magic, were too weak, and the Delacours were leagues behind them in political influence.

 

As for the Rosiers? They were on the brink of extinction. Though some of them had moved to Great Britain, the large majority of them had stayed in France and died off. Plus they, like the Delacours, were no match for the Lestranges in terms of influence.

 

Thus, Antoine Lestrange could finally usher in his conservative government. His blood supremacy faction could now completely control Magical France, propagate their blood ideology, and deal with the neutral faction, which was headed by the Bonaccord family, the family of first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Pierre Bonaccord.

 

All Antoine Lestrange had to do for this to become a reality was assassinate the current minister for magic, Thomas Dupont. 

 

‘He will be very happy with this development.’ Antoine thought ominously as he gazed at their tomb. His eyes suddenly caught sight of Adrien and Fleur talking, making him frown slightly.

 

‘What should I do with the boy?...Hmm…I should probably just kill him as well. He’s definitely going to be a significant variable in the future.’

 

Antoine knew for a fact that there was no way the boy was normal. He guessed that he was probably born to that mystical stone his rival created. So, being the astute politician he was, he thought of it as necessary to tie up any loose ends and prevent any threats to his rise to power.

 

‘Though it probably won’t be easy, mostly because of that old man.’  

 

Antoine continued to mull as he left the burial grounds, plotting his next steps for his families expansion.

 

Meanwhile, the old man himself was also deep in his thoughts.

 

As the current Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, it was Dumbledore’s job to keep the wizarding communities in peace and with Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel’s death, the status quo of Magical Europe was going to shift, and this was something that would put even more on Dumbledore’s already full plate.

 

Dumbledore knew that without the Flamels, the Lestranges would be left unchecked, take over France, and throw its wizarding community into a blood purist insurgency.

 

Should they have their way, the country would be brimming with conflicts elicited by their flawed blood ideology and this had dire far reaching consequences.

 

With the Lestranges' rise to power, Tom Riddle would cease to be a regional dark wizard and effectively gain a geographical foothold. Though, this was assuming that the man did not truly die on that fateful day of 1981.

 

Dumbledore could not afford to make such an assumption. It was foolish, and he was far from that.

 

Assuming Voldermort was alive. With France in his hands, he would undoubtedly plunge the entirety of Magical Europe into chaos, and destabilize it. 

 

This was the worst case scenario because should this happen, Magical Asia may take advantage of it and engulf the entire wizarding world into war.

 

Dumbledore knew that Magical Asia would not hesitate to do so given the current strained relationship that existed between the two wizarding communities.

 

Magical Asia, specifically China, had been embroiled in conflict with Germany ever since the actions of Gellert Grindelwald’s acolytes. They had desecrated their lands and stolen a Qilin and in doing so, provided them with a Casus Belli for a war declaration against them.

 

Should China declare war on Germany, they would call for their allies to fight with them and so would Germany, eventually leading to another global wizarding war.

 

The fact that the war had not happened already was a testament to Dumbledore’s skill as a politician. He had worked relentlessly hard to maintain global peace.

 

Dumbledore sighed as he thought about all this. His job was seriously tiresome, and now he had more on his plate. 

 

‘It seems I have a lot of work to do. Nicolas, my friend, I miss you already….’