Chapter 222 - Flamel’s Funeral (1/2)
Two days after Christmas, the funeral for Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Pernelle was held. As per the deceased couples', most current will, that of ten years ago, they were to be cremated and their ashes scattered across their country of birth and home for many years, France. An honorary monument was to be built for the masses to visit their empty graves, but the location remained yet unknown.
It was a solemn affair, where a great many gathered outside despite the later hour and the cold to say farewell to the brilliant alchemist who had discovered immortality. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, gave quite the touching speech as he had been rather close to the couple and worked alongside Flamel to discover the twelve uses of dragon blood.
It was beginning to snow and despite the bitter cold, the crowd remained quiet and still as one of the Gringotts's Goblins, with sly, dark slanted eyes walked out before the front of the crowd and spoke into an enchanted megaphone. ”It is with great solemnity that the Gringotts bank reads the public will before the masses,” Dulag, the goblin lawyer said.
”Per the Flamel's wishes for half of their gathered fortune over their extraordinary life-time will be left for usage to various charities and groups. These parties will later be informed of the amount and terms and conditions for the usage of said funds.
A third will be used as a scholarship fund for those unable to pay for a mastery. All, who wish to may apply for the Flamel Trust Scholarship are most welcome to, but first must agree to the terms and conditions for said use. Further instructions will later be published for the public to be aware of the finer details.
And lastly, all records and notes on the creation of the Philosophers Stone have long since been destroyed by Nicholas Flamel, himself. He wishes for the public and those devoted to the search to not seek said item among his belongings. Per quote, 'Though marvelous indeed, it was not a gift meant for wizard nor man to find.' End quote.
As for the remaining amount of their fortune that will be delivered to private parties, friends and long-distance family members as the Flamel couple never had any living descendants. We ask that the mourners respect their wishes and allow the couple their final rest.”
Not long after the final speaker, the Minister of Magic, Eugenia Jenkins, a stout witch with bobbed hair gave a final speech, before solemnly stepping back and being handed a golden box that held the remains of the Flamel couple. With an air of solemnity, the Minister of Magic from France, a rather stylish wizard stepped forth to receive the couple's ashes. The two posed for a moment for the reporters as flashes of light could be seen, before the Minister of France took a step back and gathered with the French envoy, before taking an international portkey back to Paris, France, where a crowd of French wizards eagerly awaited their arrival.
Long after the crowd had dispersed away a red-eyed witch who appeared to be in deep mourning finally left and apparated away. The witch appeared on the stark, frozen grounds of an old manor. Shivering from the cold, snow-filled wind, she pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around herself. Sniffing from the cold this time, Empusa Snyde eagerly made her way inside into the warmer manor. Pausing to only snow the snow off her boots, she hurried down the hall into the great hall.
The moment the great doors swung open, Empusa knew something was wrong. Many of the Death Eaters were pale and kneeling on the ground, while others lay strewn on the floor trying not to whimper lest they draw attention to themselves again and be tortured. The pacing figure in black robes whirled around to reveal the crimson eyed figure with deathly pale skin.
”Speak,” Lord Voldemort demanded, leaving no room for error nor protests.
Empusa Snyde instantly fell onto her knees and quickly answered the question. ”It is just as Milord feared, the Flamel couple are dead, and the Philosopher's Stone has been destroyed.” There is a long pause of silence as Empusa tensely waits for the imminent display of wrath from the Dark Lord.
However, to her delight and to the disappointment of others at that exact moment, the great hall doors slammed open more. A rather dandy wizard wearing silver gloves dripping in blood happily made his way forward as a disfigured goblin oozing blood was floating behind him. With a flick of his wand, the goblin falls loudly onto the ground and lets out a shriek of pain as blood begins to quickly spread onto the floor.
”I apologize for my interruption and tardiness, Master,” said Pyrites with an innocent boyish smile that did nothing to hide his fondness of blood and torture. ”However, I come bearing urgent news that I believe, Milord wishes to hear.”
”Speak filthy creature,” Pyrites ordered as he placed his boot on the goblins mangled fingers causing the tortured goblin to let out a scream in agony.
Pyrites is unable to hide the shiver of pleasure as he slowly withdraws his boot. The goblin weakly gasps as Pyrites much more kindly says again, ”Hurry up, now. Our Dark Lord is not a patient man unlike me.”
Panting in pain, the goblin hoarsely croaks, ”Four wizards were caught in vault #713 and all four were tortured and killed.” The chill in the room plunges as no one dares to even dare breathe.
”And tell, our Master, what else you told me?” Pyrites purred as if not aware of the dangerous, volatile situation before him.