From Hogwarts to Strixhaven.

Chapter 160 Funeral Invitation
There was a crackling sound in the air.

Dumbledore reappears with the French Ministry of Magic civil servant who fell from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

"Ivy's magic was beautiful!" Dumbledore said happily. "I waited for a long time downstairs before I found that he was blown back to the tower by the strong wind."

As soon as the wizard who was dragged by Dumbledore landed on the ground, he immediately hugged the steel pillar beside him. It seemed that the previous fall had indeed frightened him too much.

Seeing that his colleague was fine, the civil servant who did not fall let out a little light from the tip of his wand, wanting to see clearly who was standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night. He was shocked when he saw it.

"You...you are...Dumbledore..."

Dumbledore's iconic white beard and tall stature make him immediately recognizable, after all, his portrait has always been on the chocolate frog pictures.

"Nicol Flamel!" the wizard clinging to the steel pillar also exclaimed. Under the faint fluorescent light, Ivy saw that he had many freckles on his face.

Most of the civil servants of the French Ministry of Magic were born in Beauxbatons, and as Beauxbatons' largest donor and honorary director, Nico's portraits were hung all over the walls of the academy, so it was not difficult for him to be recognized.

Besides, everyone knows that Nicolas Flamel and Dumbledore are old friends. Although there is a difference of more than 500 years in age between them, Nicolas does not look much older than Dumbledore.

"Is there anything I can do for you two distinguished gentlemen?" The wizard holding his wand nervously pulled at his collar, fearing that there was something inappropriate about his attire.

Nico and Perenelle looked at each other and said cheerfully, "I was planning to notify the Ministry tomorrow, but tonight will do."

Both wizards pretended to be listening attentively.

"Nicholas Flamel is dying!"

The two civil servants looked at each other blankly, not knowing whether there was something wrong with their ears or their eyes.

"Who's going to die?" asked the freckled wizard.

"Nicolas Flamel!" the alchemist replied, laughing.

"Who are you?" the wizard holding the wand asked again.

“Same answer as above!” the alchemist’s wife said succinctly.

The two wizards did not ask any more questions, but fell silent. For a moment, the only sound was the wind passing over the top of the Eiffel Tower.

"Did we drink when we left the Ministry?" the freckled wizard turned his companion around and asked quietly.

"You definitely drank it!" The wizard holding up his wand answered decisively, "Otherwise, how could you fall?"

"That makes sense!" The freckled wizard nodded vigorously, turned around and asked the alchemist couple, "You told us this because..."

"Invite the French Ministry of Magic to attend the funeral!" Nicolas Flamel conjured up several goblets and handed them to two civil servants, as well as Ivy and Dumbledore who were standing aside watching the show.

Perenelle produced a bottle of golden wine and filled them all.

"Attend the funeral of Nicolas Flamel?" The freckled wizard smelled the aroma of noble rot wine and swallowed hard.

"And my wife Perenelle." Nico raised his glass and everyone drank it all. After a glass of wine, the two civil servants looked much more stable and even smiled.

Nico took out a gorgeously framed invitation from his arms and stuffed it into the freckled wizard's hand.

"Please give it to the Minister of Magic," Nico instructed.

"Of course, of course!" The freckled wizard agreed readily, but his eyes never left the bottle floating in the air, "Can I have another drink?"

"Okay, it's all yours." Perenelle smiled, directed the bottle to refill the two people's cups, and stuffed it all into the hands of the wizard holding the wand. "Just remember to tell the Minister of Magic for us."

"Thank you for your generosity!" The two wizards Apparated away from the Eiffel Tower with the bottles of wine and the invitation.

"Let." In the brightly lit office of the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Department of the French Ministry of Magic, several wizards on duty were playing cards. When they saw their colleague coming back, they immediately asked, "So what kind of person cast a spell on the Eiffel Tower? A young man with nothing to do, or was he drunk..."

"Of course it's a drunk adult!" Another wizard said, "Didn't you see the bottle of wine in his arms?"

"High-quality stuff!" Someone pulled the bottle out of Jean's arms. "I've never seen such beautiful wine! Hey! You guys! Pay up! Let me count... a total of twelve silver Sickles!"

"What's this?" Someone found the invitation to Nicolas Flamel's funeral. "You confiscated their wine, and they invited you to the wedding?"

"It was a funeral," Jean answered, pulling out a chair to chat with his colleague, and asked mysteriously, "Guess who we met?"

"Nicolas Flamel?" the wizard who received the invitation shouted in surprise. The names of Nicolas and the Philosopher's Stone were well-known in the French magical world.

"The French Ministry of Magic is invited to attend the funeral of alchemist Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel, 1992 August 8..."

Several wizards on duty looked at each other, and someone murmured, "The first day after the Feast of the Assumption of Mary?"

The Assumption of Our Lady is a legal holiday in France. Although the wizarding world and the Muggle world do not see each other, the holiday is still celebrated together, but you celebrate yours and I celebrate mine.

"Doesn't that mean there are only two weeks left?" A wizard flipped through the calendar on the wall. "It's weird that I'm predicting that I'll die in two weeks!"

"Is this some new kind of prank, Jean?" someone asked. "Drinking with Nicolas Flamel on the Eiffel Tower and being invited to his funeral is something I can brag about to my wife for days!"

"Not only Nicolas Flamel, but also his wife Perenelle Flamel and Dumbledore, as well as a handsome young man." Freckled "Jean" answered seriously.

"Dumbledore?" Everyone in the office stopped.

"You know, the one with the Chocolate Frog... He saved my life! I fell off the Eiffel Tower." Freckles shrugged.

"I think it is necessary to tell the minister about this matter..." someone said slowly.

Then the whole office was in chaos. Some people were writing letters, some people grabbed the funeral invitation and rushed out, and a few people went to apply for owls.

Freckleface sat in his seat without moving, grabbed the bottle of noble rot wine that had been thrown aside, and poured himself another glass, as if all the commotion in the office had nothing to do with him.

What's so strange about this? After all, he just escaped death. Not everyone can fall from the top of a 300-meter tower and still be alive to drink.

(End of this chapter)