The moment Hoffa heard the word "resurrection," his ears perked up instantly. In an instant, all thoughts of explosions and saving the world were shoved to the back of his mind.
"What? You can bring someone back to life?"
"Yes."
Nicolas Flamel pulled out a necklace. "I've been working on this for many years, but there are still a few missing elements. And these elements... can only be completed with your help."
He motioned for Hoffa to follow him with a trembling hand. "Come with me."
After speaking, he rummaged through the clutter of bottles and jars, retrieved an old key, and approached the wall. Flamel inserted the key into a barely noticeable hole in the wall and turned it with a soft click.
With a low rumble, the wall split open, revealing a deep blue ice wall behind it. Instantly, a bitter cold flooded the room.
Hoffa scratched his head. Ice? What kind of trick was Flamel hiding now?
Flamel tightened his robe, drew his wand, and tapped on the icy surface. The ice wall unexpectedly opened a pair of pale blue eyes. The eyes scanned Flamel, then Hoffa, before parting horizontally like a mouth. The pale blue ice bricks even resembled teeth.
Flamel gestured for Hoffa to follow and carefully stepped into the icy "mouth."
"What is this?" Hoffa asked, frowning as he followed.
"An Ice Faerie—it guards my vault."
Flamel shivered as he spoke and tapped his wand against himself. A wisp of blue smoke rose, melting the frost that had begun forming on his body.
The two descended into the icy passage, their breaths instantly crystallizing into frost.
The temperature dropped rapidly, reaching nearly minus one hundred degrees Celsius and continuing to fall. Even in the dead of night, Hoffa felt his body struggling to cope. It was as though his blood was freezing solid, and his lungs felt like they were rapidly icing over, healing themselves just as quickly. The pain was excruciating, but the thought of "resurrection" kept him silent and steadfast.
At the bottom of the icy passage, they encountered another obstacle—a massive iron door covered with dense chains and countless keyholes. The level of security rivaled the vaults of Swiss banks.
Hoffa couldn't help but marvel at what Flamel could be hiding that warranted such extreme protection.
"Don't touch that door," Flamel warned, cutting off Hoffa's curiosity. "That's a blast lock. If anyone so much as touches it, it'll trigger an explosion."
With that, the old man turned a corner, bypassing the fortified iron door, and tapped his wand on an inconspicuous section of the ice wall behind it. The wall split open, revealing yet another hidden staircase leading downward.
Hoffa exhaled a puff of white breath, thinking Flamel was truly devious. Using an iron door as a decoy would mislead any would-be thief into thinking the treasure was behind it, only to be blown to bits.
But what could Flamel possibly treasure so much? Could it be the legendary Philosopher's Stone?
With these questions swirling in his mind, Hoffa followed Flamel down the deep staircase.
The temperature dropped even further, and the surroundings grew darker.
When they reached the bottom, Flamel waved his wand. "Lumos Maxima."
Countless silver lights burst forth, illuminating a modest icy chamber.
Hoffa's expression remained unchanged. Darkness didn't hinder his vision, so he had already taken in the room's contents. There were only two items—a freezer and a metal box on a table.
"What exactly did you bring me here to see?" Hoffa asked.
Flamel raised his wand and tapped it against the icy wall.
The frost-covered wall revealed a massive diagram etched into its surface.
It was a simple trinity diagram, with three elements encircling a single point.
"I'm not sure if you've heard of this," Flamel said slowly. "Blood, flesh, bones, and... the soul. These are the four components that make up the human body."
Hoffa studied the triangular diagram and nodded.
"Of these four components, only the soul is irreplaceable," Flamel continued. "The physical body, on the other hand, is something that can be substituted. Many wizards throughout history have realized this."
Flamel lifted the necklace in his hand and spoke in a low voice,
"That is why I've gone to such lengths to preserve Chloe's soul. If her soul were sent to the Deathly Realm, retrieving it would be nearly impossible."
Hoffa exhaled a puff of white mist, his thoughts racing as his fists unconsciously clenched.
"I want to resurrect her," Nicolas Flamel said. "But it's not as simple as using any ordinary blood, flesh, and bone. The conditions for resurrection are exceptionally strict."
"I know," Hoffa interrupted. "The father's bone, the enemy's blood, and the servant's flesh. Is that correct?"
"Ah!"
Nicolas Flamel gasped sharply, a trace of astonishment flashing in his eyes. He asked in a low voice, "You know? Have you studied this?"
Hoffa shook his head, his gaze fixed on the necklace in Flamel's hand. "I've only heard about it, never seen it in action. So, have you gathered all the elements?"
Flamel nodded and walked to the iron box on the table. With a click, he opened it. Hoffa leaned in and saw a crimson bone inside, as if freshly taken from a body.
"This is Chloe's father's bone," Flamel explained. "Also, it belonged to my great-great-great-great-grandson. He lost his right leg in a car accident."
"Car accident?"
Hoffa mulled over this briefly. "So, the father's bone is already here. What about the servant's flesh? Do you need me to provide a piece?"
"It's wonderful that you're willing," Flamel chuckled. "If we could use your flesh, that would be ideal. But if you're unwilling, we could find another servant. This condition isn't too restrictive."
"But the enemy's blood..."
Hoffa frowned deeply, realizing the crux of the problem. Chloe was a peaceful nun who had spent most of her life in a convent. How could she have enemies? Even if there were, they'd likely be the ones who destroyed the convent—the Nazis.
But that was fifty years ago. They'd long turned to dust. Where could he possibly find the blood of an enemy now?
Flamel noticed Hoffa's worry and smiled. "Do you think I've done nothing in the past fifty years, Bach?"
He walked to the only freezer in the room and proudly declared, "This is the reason I built this ice chamber—to preserve fresh blood for fifty years without letting it deteriorate."
With that, he abruptly opened the freezer door.
A wave of cold air poured out. As the icy mist dispersed, Hoffa saw a shriveled, blackened body lying inside. Leaning against the icy interior, it was emaciated like a monkey, its frost-covered face still bearing traces of bewilderment and confusion.
The moment Hoffa recognized the figure, his eyes widened, and he instinctively stepped back, his hand pressing against the scar on his chest.
"Mance!"
Chloe's only enemy, the only person she had ever killed, was lying right there, preserved exactly as he had been at the moment of death.
For a moment, Hoffa's breath froze.
Then a wave of ecstatic joy surged through him, as if he'd finally achieved something he had tirelessly pursued for years. It was a joy so intense that it made him feel, once again, the kindness of this world.
Flamel chuckled. "Everything you experienced in Bournemouth back then—I witnessed it all. Within minutes of your departure, I recovered his body. For the past fifty years, I've spared no effort in preserving it. I promise you, his blood remains fresh and usable."
"Then resurrect her! What are you waiting for?"
Hoffa grabbed Flamel by the shoulders. "The blood, the bone, the flesh, the soul—we have everything! Bring her back already!"
"Ow, ow, ow!"
Hoffa's excitement nearly crushed Flamel's shoulder.
Realizing he'd lost control, Hoffa quickly released his grip.
"You're overthinking it," Flamel sighed. "It's not that simple. Though I excel in alchemy, I'm not skilled enough to create a human body."
He continued with a sigh, "Legend has it that many years ago, Cadmus Peverell—the second of the famous Peverell brothers—became obsessed with resurrection after losing his lover. He not only developed the Resurrection Stone to preserve souls but also created the secret art of human transmutation.
"Even so, he failed to truly resurrect his lover. But he left behind this secret method—the art of human transmutation. It is one of the wizarding world's most advanced and forbidden forms of alchemy."
After a pause, Flamel added with a wry smile, "While I know the three main components—the father's bone, the enemy's blood, and the servant's flesh—that doesn't mean I can simply throw them into a cauldron and conjure a body. Creating life is an ability that requires extraordinary precision and complexity."
He hesitated for a moment before saying, "What I need is the actual formula—a detailed and original recipe. And there's only one person in the world who knows it."
Hoffa's eyes widened, sensing where this was heading. "Don't tell me..."
Flamel met his gaze, his eyes shining with the fervor of an alchemist—a fervor Hoffa had seen before in Norbert's eyes.
"That's right," Flamel said. "The only person who knows the intricate details of this secret method is Cadmus Peverell's last living descendant—your classmate, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
(End of Chapter)
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