Book Two, Preface
The first week of summer holiday was a fine week. That was until the dreams came back. Alexander couldn’t figure out where he was or identify who was talking, but he knew one voice: Salazar. The other voice was nasally and old, and when Alex looked upon the man, he grimaced at the sight of him. He looked like an old man in a younger man’s body, but with fringed white hair and hauntingly mellow eyes.
“Have you any idea what destroying the stone could do to you?” Salazar asked. “I don’t care what Albus told you. By destroying the one creation that put you on the map will not only kill you but will cause your reputation to falter!”
Alex watched— as he always had done—the other man looked at the ghostly figure before he huffed.
“It would’ve been used by a dark lord, Salazar! My life’s creation being used by a dark lord? Think of the scandal! It was always going to come and bite me in the back.”
Salazar inhaled sharply, and for the first time, the boy saw that he was angry beyond unmeasurable compare. “Riddle is one thing, but to willingly give Albus the stone, that was your first mistake.”
The other man—who Alex had deduced as Nicolas Flamel—looked at the ghost with confusion. “You think Albus is the problem? Salazar, that dark lord was your kin, not mine. I gave Albus the stone out of protection for myself. For my wife.”
Salazar scoffed. “No, no you gave the stone away because you saw great value in Albus Dumbledore. His intentions weren’t pure, they never have been.”
“What’re you talking about, Salazar?” The frail man stepped closer to the ghost. “Albus was destined to be great from the beginning. Despite all that was said about him and that other man, Albus was the best chance the Wizarding World had to creating a better future. I trusted him with the stone, because I knew he wouldn’t use it for his own gain nor to create a new world order, like your kin.”
Alex looked around him. They were in a dusty old house—the furniture was covered in yellowy sheets, and the grandfather clock was the only thing still able to breathe inside. Outside, he could hear the cars rattle along the street, and the sun began to peak over the hills to the east.
“The one thing my kin and your beloved friend have in common is using people to their own benefits, Nicolas. Albus wanted the stone so he could have a leg-up against Gellert, and now he has realized that other people know about the stone, he wants to destroy it,” Salazar said with venom in his voice.
Flamel was taken aback by the sudden spite in the ghost’s voice, and stared at him in wonder and surprise. “When has Albus used others for his own gain, Salazar?”
Salazar turned away, and stared at the spot that Alex now stood in. While the boy thought that his mentor could see him, the ghost turned back to the frail man. “Remember the Lestrange Mausoleum? The Scamanders were following his orders, and they fell into Gellert’s trap because Albus knew what his old friend was planning. People—Muggles and Wizards alike—have died because Albus Dumbledore thought that the stone, or the Elder Wand would give him more power. It’s always been about the benefits and who has to die for the powerful to gain more power, Nicolas.”
Alex could see the other man whiten as Salazar went on, but he could also see the gears start to turn in the man’s head. “All this that you’ve said, is it true?”
“You have been stuck in dusty old houses for centuries, Nicolas. The last time you went out was at the Lestrange Mausoleum, and that was fifty years ago. If you want to make a difference, show the world that not everything has to revolve around Albus Dumbledore, and keep the stone alive. For your wife, and for you, keep it alive and well-hidden. And don’t—”
“Let Albus know,” Flames said. “I’m sure he’ll find out, Salazar. He always knows.”
“Then hide it somewhere even he won’t know.” Salazar smiled, and for the first time that night so did Flamel.
Flamel took the ember-colored stone in his hands, and extended it to Salazar. “I want you to have it. Perenelle and I have already decided that life has been pleasurable, but we’re tired, Salazar.
Salazar took the stone in his hands, and as if he immediately understood, bowed his head. “I’ll hide it somewhere not even Riddle will find. Thank you, old friend. Sleep easy, and I’ll see you again real soon.”
Alex watched the older man walk up the stairs slowly, and he heard a door close quietly veined him. He turned to face Salazar, who held the Philosopher’s Stone in his hands and smiled at it with wonder. When the ghost looked to Alex, his smile grew.
“For us, I did this. For your future, I did this. But Riddle mustn’t know, nor Dumbledore. This is our secret, Alex.” He stopped and turned to the windows. The sun began to slowly creep towards them, and he turned back. “We’ve run out of time. I will talk to you soon, but please be careful this summer. Danger is afoot, my boy.”
Alex blinked, and Salazar was gone. The sun beams etched closer to him, and as it touched his toes, he felt a sudden grip pull him from the dusty house. And then…