Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Alchemical Reactions
Life is for the Living
3 reviewsHarry has to sign a few Ministry contacts and the Flamels set their affairs in order...
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Disclaimer: I’m in cheerful denial about the end of the Harry Potter series right now—so how on earth can I be Rowling? If I were her, I’d have an eighth book in the works already! (and be planning for a ninth, tenth, etc…if I owned Harry Potter it would never end!)
Author’s Note:/ I’m really sorry this chapter was a bit late, but unfortunately I had no access to the computer this past week, due to illness. But I’m back on my feet (keyboard too) and wrote a chapter 1, 000 words longer than usual, though it may seem short as it has less dialogue. Again, sorry for the wait! Hopefully next chapter will be out sooner. Anywho, enjoy this chapter!/
Alchemical Reactions
Chapter Nine
Life is for the Living
Albus Dumbledore was getting a bit fed up. More than a bit fed up, in fact. He was utterly exasperated, angry, and generally pissed off about the general topic of the whereabouts of one Harry Potter. The boy’s letters had all been returned—and Minerva had sent them out without fail every year—with no reply. The owls themselves had appeared confused, and Dumbledore knew that only one thing would cause that: Harry Potter was no longer a Potter. It troubled him more than he usually allowed himself to be troubled. It meant that Harry had grown attached to someone who wasn’t Dumbledore, who was an unknown variable in all of his plans. This was not good at all.
What could he do? He knew the boy was safe, according to his monitors at least. Thankfully, those followed his blood and not the boy’s name. The Ministry itself had set up a hunt for the boy, but there wasn’t much they could go on. Just Harry’s scar. A scar that could be hidden quite easily. They had no idea what he would look like; a mixture of James, a masculine Lily, a copy of James, someone else entirely? They had no idea. It was a lost cause.
There just had to be another way!
**
Harry spent the next year delving further into his studies, at the same time attempting to find a way to completely avoid being adopted once more after the Flamels’ death. It was tough—the Ministry had pretty strict laws on emancipation and it’d be tough to get around them. Historically, they hadn’t emancipated anyone under the age of fifteen without something conditional. He didn’t know what he could offer them, but considering how self-serving the Ministry tended to be, he didn’t like the idea. At all.
The teachers that Nicholas had found for Harry weren’t up there on his ‘favourites’ list. In fact, he tended to hate most of them. Or the subjects at least. Of course, he could see the need for practical training in the spells he knew, so he resented the retired Auror Mad-Eye Moody the least, but the others… They pushed him harder than he felt was necessary. After all, since when did wizards practice the Martial Arts? Or learn how to fence and use daggers along side it? He felt that it was a bit much. He could understand keep oneself agile, as in a duel it’d be easier to avoid getting hit, or building up stamina in order to last longer in said duel…but was all this really necessary? It wasn’t as if he was going to be allowed to carry any weapons in public anyways…
His classes in strategy weren’t going much better. The teacher, a retired Unspeakable, had determined that they would play chess. A lot. If Harry saw that damned black and white tiled board again he knew he’d scream. And then lose, as usual. He wasn’t used to losing or having his pride repeatedly wounded. Personally, he felt if he wasn’t doing something useful with his time—and chess was not useful—then why bother? Unfortunately, he’d been caught too many times attempting to skip lessons with the Unspeakable that he could no longer escape said lessons. It was rather embarrassing.
On the other hand, Harry had taken to alchemy so quickly that Nicholas had to spend a whole afternoon hunting through his library for the intermediate texts—only days after Harry was first introduced to it. He found something about it to be intriguing—whether it was the way it combined Muggle laws and science together with magic, or the fact that it wasn’t something that could be used in combat (considering how sick he was with all his combat classes) and how it could do things that even magic couldn’t. After all, since when could magic turn sand into air? It was absolutely fascinating.
Overall, it was quite the year. And by the time his birthday rolled around once again, he was quite pleased to note that a Hogwarts letter did not appear. Though that did give him an idea...
Perhaps if he agreed to go to Hogwarts the Ministry would emancipate him, knowing that he was under the care of their beloved Mugwump?
**
“So, can you do it?” Nicholas asked for the fifth time in the three hours the Flamels had been in the Child Services Office at the Ministry of Magic.
The witch behind the desk sighed, and then snapped, “If you’d just give me a few more minutes I can finalize it, Mr. Flamel. Now please, stop asking!”
“Sorry,” Nicholas replied sheepishly. While he may have lived for over six hundred years, his patience had never really grown. Perenelle just shot him an exasperated look while Harry hid a yawn behind his hand.
The three of them had been at the Ministry long enough that they were getting sick with the endless paperwork. The two Flamels had been in the Ministry several hours longer than their charge, confirming certain aspects of their Will before being asked to bring Harry along so that they could consider the prospect of emancipation.
The witch, Jane Irman, had interviewed Harry without his guardians present for an hour or so, coming to the eventual conclusion that the thirteen-year-old was incredibly mature for his age. However, it was incredibly rare to grant emancipation to one so young—as Irman had put it, the cut-off age was usually fifteen. However, instead of telling them ‘no,’ straight off, Irman had been pulling some strings at the Ministry to allow Harry’s emancipation work—using the Flamel name had its benefits, after all.
“The Minister would like me to ask you once again if you have no other descendants,” Irman asked with a sigh as she opened the memo that had just flown in the room.
“Yes, we’re sure,” snapped Perenelle, already sick of Minister Fudge. “Harold is our only descendant.”
“I know,” Irman replied, slightly aggravated herself before writing something quickly, charming it, and sending it back to the Minister. “Hopefully that’ll do it.”
“I certainly hope so,” Perenelle commented sharply.
“Once he replies, the three of you will be able to sign the forms. You understand the conditions, correct?”
“Unfortunately,” muttered Nicholas, while Perenelle shot him a look, though she privately agreed.
Irman gave Nicholas an intent stare. “You know that the only way this will work is if he agrees to go to Hogwarts—there’s no other solution that the Ministry will accept.”
When Harry had heard of this condition, he had smiled inwardly. It looked as if the Ministry wasn’t nearly as stupid as it looked. Nicholas, on the other hand, hadn’t been too pleased.
“I know,” Nicholas sighed, oblivious to the plotting of his charge. “I’m just not happy about it. He’s so advanced in comparison to his peers…”
“You expect to have another year with him, though, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then I highly suggest you continue teaching him and simply owl the teachers at Hogwarts with his progress to ensure that he is not bored,” Irman commented.
“We’ve already decided to do so,” interjected Perenelle. She shot Nicholas a warning look, hoping he’d understand ‘Don’t talk about Dumbledore’ from it. The two of them finally shared a hatred for the man, but that wouldn’t go over too well with the Ministry. Dumbledore had far too much influence there as it was.
Harry said nothing, listening to the conversation with only half an ear. He had come to accept—to some degree—that once again he was being left alone, though he understood that it wasn’t as purposeful as it had been in the past. However, it was a direct result of some of Perenelle’s actions, which hurt Harry more than he cared to admit to himself, let alone the Flamels. He had thoroughly scolded himself for once again believing that he would have a family, and then had refused to think about it or form more solid bonds with the dying couple. Now he was…almost apathetic to it.
He didn’t care if he went to Hogwarts either way. From the tales the stories related to him by the Weasleys, Neville, and Luna, it seemed to be quite the exciting place, filled with its own level of intrigue.
“And Harry, you’re alright with all of this?” Irman asked for what was likely the twentieth time.
“Yes,” Harry said firmly. Anything less than firm and she would doubt him, likely cancelling the emancipation that would occur immediately after the Flamel’s death. Harry knew for sure that he didn’t want to be adopted by anyone ever again—no matter how nice they were—and living at an orphanage would be very problematic considering the whole ‘wizard’ thing.
“Alright,” Jane nodded, before grabbing a quill and pointing to the parchment she had been writing on. “Sign here,” she said to Nicholas and Perenelle. The two did so, and the parchment glowed before settling down.
“Here’s your copy,” she said, handing it to them. “The signatures were transferred to the others.” She rummaged around her desk, before finding the contract that Harry had to sign. “Here,” she said.
Harry skimmed it over before signing it. It contained the basics for any emancipated child—more or less, behave and act like an adult. If he didn’t, he would have to choose a guardian that would be checked over by the Ministry, and if unsuitable the Ministry would chose a home for him. Unlike other contracts, however, it also contained the addition that Harry was to attend Hogwarts until he was seventeen, beginning immediately after his emancipation, which would occur upon the deaths of the Flamels. If this was the price of freedom, Harry was more than happy to pay it. He had dreamed frequently of Hogwarts’ library and getting his hands on some of those rare books…It looked as if his manipulations had definitely paid off.
“Here’s your copy,” Irman said, shaking him out of his stupor. He nodded, curling up the parchment and holding it loosely in his hand. “Hope you have a good day,” she told them, smiling tiredly.
“Thank you,” Perenelle said, before ushering Nicholas and Harry out of the room.
**
Over the next year, give or take, Harry focused on his studies as much as possible, endeavouring to learn all he could from the Flamels. Luckily, his avid interest in alchemy allowed gave him access to knowledge that Nicholas would never be able to divulge to someone who didn’t understand the basics. He had gotten so far in his studies that Nicholas had sworn that if he wasn’t going to die within the year, he’d take Harry on as his apprentice. As it was, several months after New Years Nicholas declared Harry fit to apply for the intermediate exam in alchemy at the Ministry—definitely not yet at a Mastery, but closer than most ten years older than he was. Harry was just happy that the Ministry hadn’t put any age restrictions on the alchemy exams, as it was almost always a subject in which the student was an apprentice.
Harry found himself under intense scrutiny quite often from Nicholas. He didn’t understand it—nor did he understand half the tests that Nicholas required him to perform. It seemed to be a waste of his magic and his time. There were better things he could be doing than being Nicholas’s test subject for whatever mad plan the old man had concocted. Still, he let the man tinker, as he was going to be meeting death soon and Harry really did want to learn all he could from him.
It was the end of May when Nicholas and Perenelle were admitted into St. Mungo’s. Barely days later, they had passed away, peacefully according to the Healers. Harry was left with a large majority of their possessions, including a book of research from Nicholas and a letter from the two of them. Harry refused to allow himself to grieve over their deaths. Yes, they had taken care of him for years, but he hadn’t allowed himself to grow attached to them for a reason: everyone always left him in the end. It may have been a bitter statement, but it was all Harry had known when growing up. I’m better off on my own, he thought, packing his bag for Hogwarts.
That was another inconvenience. Hogwarts. Due to the contract he had signed, the Ministry required him at the school immediately. Harry had written to the Deputy Headmistress as soon as the Flamels had been admitted into the hospital, and she had replied back promptly, informing him that while he could not join his year mates for the end of term, he could be tested for next year to see where he was academically. It was so rare that Hogwarts took on home-schooled students that this would also allow them to place him accordingly. She had also expressed her sadness at his loss, and other such pleasantries. It was overall what he had expected, a typical boring letter.
Harry was to leave for Hogwarts as soon as he had everything sorted out at the Manor, the Flamel’s Will included. The day after Harry had received what was left to him in the Flamel’s Will (the manor included), Harry finally sat down to take a peek at what they had written to him, spending his last few hours before he left for Hogwarts via Portkey alone.
Sighing, Harry sat back on his bed and stuck his feet on top of the trunk he had left at the end of the bed. He first opened the letter, resisting the urge to delve immediately into the research journal Nicholas had left him. Harry opened the letter, only to find that there were two tucked within. The first was from Perenelle, saying a goodbye in more words, but Nicholas’s was much more interesting.
Dear Harry,
Hope you’re well. Life’s fine, just great. I’m only writing this letter to let you know that if you’re getting it I’m dead. Well, you probably know that already. Don’t you just love beginning misleading letters? I left Gringotts with instructions to mail this to you…though they probably didn’t. The goblins know me well enough by now to avoid doing anything that involves me grinning like a mad man. Not that I’m not mad.
Well this is it. The barmy old codger has kicked the bucket, hasn’t he? In the end, I think I was absolutely mad for attempting to stay alive for so long. There’s only so much that a person can handle before they want to shut themselves off from the world. At the same time…I had the rare and marvellous opportunity of seeing the world as it changed and evolved; something that I’m sure most would give their hearts for. Well, their souls at least. Vampires, you know.
I think death is making me a tad nervous. I know you probably won’t miss the two of us, me and Perenelle, but I’ll certainly miss you. (Can’t speak for Perenelle here, she’s writing her own letter to you.) I wish that we’d had the opportunity to raise you from the beginning—imagine how different all our lives would be! A good different, of course.
There are some things you need to know that I didn’t quite have the courage to tell you while I was among the living. The first is probably the reason why I sought you out for adoption in the first place. And how, I suppose. Of course, I can’t really give you a simple explanation. It involves plot, intrigue, suspense…I feel as if I’m about to write a mystery right now.
When you were born, Harry, the world immediately knew. Lily and James Potter were both of high standing and class within the Wizarding World, and you were their pride and joy. From what I could tell at the time, Lily immediately began looking up spells to further protect you. She worked as a researcher in the Department of Mysteries and had access to knowledge that you and I can only dream of. I think, at some level, she and James both knew you’d be a target. They just didn’t realize how much of one.
From the information I received after the fact, James and Lily were pushed into hiding under the Fidelius Charm by Dumbledore, at the same time Alice and Frank Longbottom decided to do so as well. It is obvious that Dumbledore felt that both families were in grave danger. What proof he had, I do not know, but it was enough to have both intelligent couples alarmed.
I don’t know how much of my library you’ve gotten through yet, Harry, but there’s a book in there solely dedicated to the Fidelius Charm. You probably haven’t gotten around to reading it yet—I’ve seen that your major focus is still alchemy right now—so I’ll explain what exactly it is. The Fidelius Charm essentially keeps anyone who is not in on the ‘Secret’ from seeing the house or even acknowledging its existence. A Secret Keeper is chosen to protect the house, as they take upon themselves the responsibility of keeping the house secret. They will be told an address or something similar that will be the ‘password’ to gain access to the house under the Fidelius Charm. It could be something as simple as “Hogwarts School is located in Scotland” and if under the Fidelius, anyone who’d been told that from the Secret Keeper alone would be allowed access. Anyone who hadn’t (even if they knew that Hogwarts was in Scotland) would not be able to see the school or locate it in any fashion.
I have no idea who the Longbottoms’ Secret Keeper was, but I know that your parents’ Secret Keeper was Sirius Black, though even that information is highly suspect. Yes, he was the escapee of Azkaban Prison that was all over the news several months ago. From what I can gather, he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, despite being James’s best friend. He was named as your godfather long before his treachery was known. After your parents were killed, he hunted down Peter Pettigrew under the pretext of blaming him for the Potters’ murder, and instead killed Peter and twelve Muggles, as I’m sure you know. What is suspect is that he was not given a trial and was pushed straight into Azkaban. This move was supported by Albus Dumbledore.
As you know, you were named the Boy-Who-Lived (and whoever came up with that nickname had no imagination whatsoever) and the world celebrated, etcetera, etcetera. However, surviving the Killing Curse was no mean feat, and certain people began to take a special interest in you. I was one of them.
One of the many abilities I learnt over the years was that of tracking magical persons. The way I learned it was as a branch of Divination—and I know how much stock you put in that—but it is annoyingly precise. It involves setting up a map and hanging an object focused on said person over it, so that it can monitor their whereabouts. Sorry for the invasion of privacy, by the way, but you can’t exactly get mad at me for that—I’m dead! So I kept an eye on you for the first few months, making sure you were generally okay. While you seemed to move around a lot, you eventually settled. Afterwards, I checked up on you every month or so, to make sure everything was in order.
When you were about five or so, you began moving around the country a lot. I decided that perhaps you had some turmoil or something similar going on in your family’s life and decided I’d visit—as soon as it seemed as if the trouble had passed. Imagine my surprise when I found you—finally settled at the orphanage—without a home! I spoke with the owner, and immediately decided that you ought to be adopted. It was clear that you had no knowledge of where you had come from or your importance and it was vital that you know them before you received your Hogwarts letter and fall under Dumbledore’s influence.
So that’s more or less why I adopted you. There were other reasons, but you’ll find most of those in the journal I left you. I might have taken it upon myself to study the way your magic interacts with you—the level of control and power you have for your age is unprecedented, and I felt that I might as well research it since you needed to know the information anyways. The gist of it is more or less that your magic is much more closely connected to you than anyone else—so keep an open mind about what you can do. If anyone tries to tell you that you can’t do something, check it out for yourself before believing them. They might be wrong when it comes to you. I have theories as to why this occurred, but I don’t really want to get into here. You’ll find it all in the journal.
About Albus Dumbledore…be careful, Harry. Don’t trust him at all/, no matter what he says or does. The Albus Dumbledore I knew years ago is not the one of today. I don’t know what happened, but he’s changed for the worse. He’s manipulative, sneaky, and generally wants to use you as his weapon. “For the greater good,” has he put it in a firecall towards me, but don’t allow yourself to be drawn into his “greater good” crap. When Albus was growing up, he believed in being straightforward, not being manipulative, and that everyone deserved their own life. He would have never sacrificed or used one person for a cause, not if they were unwilling or uninformed. However, a few decades ago all this changed and Albus’s mind became…poisoned, almost. I don’t know. I don’t want to know why or how it happened, just that he is not the person he is made out to be. /Do not trust him.
Before I’ll close this letter, I’ll give you a reminder about Hogwarts. Whatever you do, do not/ let anyone see your scar. Keep it covered by Muggle and Magical methods/ at all times. Wizards don’t frequently check for Muggle disguising tactics, so you ought to be fine. Actually, scratch that. You should attempt to change a bit of your appearance as much as possible. There are people at Hogwarts who knew your parents and know what they looked like. From the pictures I’ve seen, you look a lot like your father, though you have your mother’s eyes. If you’re not careful, someone will put two and two together and get Harry Potter. Again, I suggest Muggle methods combined with Wizarding methods.
That said, I’ve got some last minute advice for you. Live your life how you want to live it. Life is for the living, as they say. I wish you the best of luck in living, Harry, and hope that you’re happy. Don’t fear death though…after living so long in this world, I can safely say that I’m anticipating death quite eagerly. I’m incredibly curious what it will hold. And if it’s nothing…well at least I know that I’ve lived a full life. So live yours and don’t wallow. You do too much of that as it is.
-Nicholas
PS—A heads up for you: Slytherin doesn’t always mean evil.
Author’s Note:/ I’m really sorry this chapter was a bit late, but unfortunately I had no access to the computer this past week, due to illness. But I’m back on my feet (keyboard too) and wrote a chapter 1, 000 words longer than usual, though it may seem short as it has less dialogue. Again, sorry for the wait! Hopefully next chapter will be out sooner. Anywho, enjoy this chapter!/
Alchemical Reactions
Chapter Nine
Life is for the Living
Albus Dumbledore was getting a bit fed up. More than a bit fed up, in fact. He was utterly exasperated, angry, and generally pissed off about the general topic of the whereabouts of one Harry Potter. The boy’s letters had all been returned—and Minerva had sent them out without fail every year—with no reply. The owls themselves had appeared confused, and Dumbledore knew that only one thing would cause that: Harry Potter was no longer a Potter. It troubled him more than he usually allowed himself to be troubled. It meant that Harry had grown attached to someone who wasn’t Dumbledore, who was an unknown variable in all of his plans. This was not good at all.
What could he do? He knew the boy was safe, according to his monitors at least. Thankfully, those followed his blood and not the boy’s name. The Ministry itself had set up a hunt for the boy, but there wasn’t much they could go on. Just Harry’s scar. A scar that could be hidden quite easily. They had no idea what he would look like; a mixture of James, a masculine Lily, a copy of James, someone else entirely? They had no idea. It was a lost cause.
There just had to be another way!
**
Harry spent the next year delving further into his studies, at the same time attempting to find a way to completely avoid being adopted once more after the Flamels’ death. It was tough—the Ministry had pretty strict laws on emancipation and it’d be tough to get around them. Historically, they hadn’t emancipated anyone under the age of fifteen without something conditional. He didn’t know what he could offer them, but considering how self-serving the Ministry tended to be, he didn’t like the idea. At all.
The teachers that Nicholas had found for Harry weren’t up there on his ‘favourites’ list. In fact, he tended to hate most of them. Or the subjects at least. Of course, he could see the need for practical training in the spells he knew, so he resented the retired Auror Mad-Eye Moody the least, but the others… They pushed him harder than he felt was necessary. After all, since when did wizards practice the Martial Arts? Or learn how to fence and use daggers along side it? He felt that it was a bit much. He could understand keep oneself agile, as in a duel it’d be easier to avoid getting hit, or building up stamina in order to last longer in said duel…but was all this really necessary? It wasn’t as if he was going to be allowed to carry any weapons in public anyways…
His classes in strategy weren’t going much better. The teacher, a retired Unspeakable, had determined that they would play chess. A lot. If Harry saw that damned black and white tiled board again he knew he’d scream. And then lose, as usual. He wasn’t used to losing or having his pride repeatedly wounded. Personally, he felt if he wasn’t doing something useful with his time—and chess was not useful—then why bother? Unfortunately, he’d been caught too many times attempting to skip lessons with the Unspeakable that he could no longer escape said lessons. It was rather embarrassing.
On the other hand, Harry had taken to alchemy so quickly that Nicholas had to spend a whole afternoon hunting through his library for the intermediate texts—only days after Harry was first introduced to it. He found something about it to be intriguing—whether it was the way it combined Muggle laws and science together with magic, or the fact that it wasn’t something that could be used in combat (considering how sick he was with all his combat classes) and how it could do things that even magic couldn’t. After all, since when could magic turn sand into air? It was absolutely fascinating.
Overall, it was quite the year. And by the time his birthday rolled around once again, he was quite pleased to note that a Hogwarts letter did not appear. Though that did give him an idea...
Perhaps if he agreed to go to Hogwarts the Ministry would emancipate him, knowing that he was under the care of their beloved Mugwump?
**
“So, can you do it?” Nicholas asked for the fifth time in the three hours the Flamels had been in the Child Services Office at the Ministry of Magic.
The witch behind the desk sighed, and then snapped, “If you’d just give me a few more minutes I can finalize it, Mr. Flamel. Now please, stop asking!”
“Sorry,” Nicholas replied sheepishly. While he may have lived for over six hundred years, his patience had never really grown. Perenelle just shot him an exasperated look while Harry hid a yawn behind his hand.
The three of them had been at the Ministry long enough that they were getting sick with the endless paperwork. The two Flamels had been in the Ministry several hours longer than their charge, confirming certain aspects of their Will before being asked to bring Harry along so that they could consider the prospect of emancipation.
The witch, Jane Irman, had interviewed Harry without his guardians present for an hour or so, coming to the eventual conclusion that the thirteen-year-old was incredibly mature for his age. However, it was incredibly rare to grant emancipation to one so young—as Irman had put it, the cut-off age was usually fifteen. However, instead of telling them ‘no,’ straight off, Irman had been pulling some strings at the Ministry to allow Harry’s emancipation work—using the Flamel name had its benefits, after all.
“The Minister would like me to ask you once again if you have no other descendants,” Irman asked with a sigh as she opened the memo that had just flown in the room.
“Yes, we’re sure,” snapped Perenelle, already sick of Minister Fudge. “Harold is our only descendant.”
“I know,” Irman replied, slightly aggravated herself before writing something quickly, charming it, and sending it back to the Minister. “Hopefully that’ll do it.”
“I certainly hope so,” Perenelle commented sharply.
“Once he replies, the three of you will be able to sign the forms. You understand the conditions, correct?”
“Unfortunately,” muttered Nicholas, while Perenelle shot him a look, though she privately agreed.
Irman gave Nicholas an intent stare. “You know that the only way this will work is if he agrees to go to Hogwarts—there’s no other solution that the Ministry will accept.”
When Harry had heard of this condition, he had smiled inwardly. It looked as if the Ministry wasn’t nearly as stupid as it looked. Nicholas, on the other hand, hadn’t been too pleased.
“I know,” Nicholas sighed, oblivious to the plotting of his charge. “I’m just not happy about it. He’s so advanced in comparison to his peers…”
“You expect to have another year with him, though, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then I highly suggest you continue teaching him and simply owl the teachers at Hogwarts with his progress to ensure that he is not bored,” Irman commented.
“We’ve already decided to do so,” interjected Perenelle. She shot Nicholas a warning look, hoping he’d understand ‘Don’t talk about Dumbledore’ from it. The two of them finally shared a hatred for the man, but that wouldn’t go over too well with the Ministry. Dumbledore had far too much influence there as it was.
Harry said nothing, listening to the conversation with only half an ear. He had come to accept—to some degree—that once again he was being left alone, though he understood that it wasn’t as purposeful as it had been in the past. However, it was a direct result of some of Perenelle’s actions, which hurt Harry more than he cared to admit to himself, let alone the Flamels. He had thoroughly scolded himself for once again believing that he would have a family, and then had refused to think about it or form more solid bonds with the dying couple. Now he was…almost apathetic to it.
He didn’t care if he went to Hogwarts either way. From the tales the stories related to him by the Weasleys, Neville, and Luna, it seemed to be quite the exciting place, filled with its own level of intrigue.
“And Harry, you’re alright with all of this?” Irman asked for what was likely the twentieth time.
“Yes,” Harry said firmly. Anything less than firm and she would doubt him, likely cancelling the emancipation that would occur immediately after the Flamel’s death. Harry knew for sure that he didn’t want to be adopted by anyone ever again—no matter how nice they were—and living at an orphanage would be very problematic considering the whole ‘wizard’ thing.
“Alright,” Jane nodded, before grabbing a quill and pointing to the parchment she had been writing on. “Sign here,” she said to Nicholas and Perenelle. The two did so, and the parchment glowed before settling down.
“Here’s your copy,” she said, handing it to them. “The signatures were transferred to the others.” She rummaged around her desk, before finding the contract that Harry had to sign. “Here,” she said.
Harry skimmed it over before signing it. It contained the basics for any emancipated child—more or less, behave and act like an adult. If he didn’t, he would have to choose a guardian that would be checked over by the Ministry, and if unsuitable the Ministry would chose a home for him. Unlike other contracts, however, it also contained the addition that Harry was to attend Hogwarts until he was seventeen, beginning immediately after his emancipation, which would occur upon the deaths of the Flamels. If this was the price of freedom, Harry was more than happy to pay it. He had dreamed frequently of Hogwarts’ library and getting his hands on some of those rare books…It looked as if his manipulations had definitely paid off.
“Here’s your copy,” Irman said, shaking him out of his stupor. He nodded, curling up the parchment and holding it loosely in his hand. “Hope you have a good day,” she told them, smiling tiredly.
“Thank you,” Perenelle said, before ushering Nicholas and Harry out of the room.
**
Over the next year, give or take, Harry focused on his studies as much as possible, endeavouring to learn all he could from the Flamels. Luckily, his avid interest in alchemy allowed gave him access to knowledge that Nicholas would never be able to divulge to someone who didn’t understand the basics. He had gotten so far in his studies that Nicholas had sworn that if he wasn’t going to die within the year, he’d take Harry on as his apprentice. As it was, several months after New Years Nicholas declared Harry fit to apply for the intermediate exam in alchemy at the Ministry—definitely not yet at a Mastery, but closer than most ten years older than he was. Harry was just happy that the Ministry hadn’t put any age restrictions on the alchemy exams, as it was almost always a subject in which the student was an apprentice.
Harry found himself under intense scrutiny quite often from Nicholas. He didn’t understand it—nor did he understand half the tests that Nicholas required him to perform. It seemed to be a waste of his magic and his time. There were better things he could be doing than being Nicholas’s test subject for whatever mad plan the old man had concocted. Still, he let the man tinker, as he was going to be meeting death soon and Harry really did want to learn all he could from him.
It was the end of May when Nicholas and Perenelle were admitted into St. Mungo’s. Barely days later, they had passed away, peacefully according to the Healers. Harry was left with a large majority of their possessions, including a book of research from Nicholas and a letter from the two of them. Harry refused to allow himself to grieve over their deaths. Yes, they had taken care of him for years, but he hadn’t allowed himself to grow attached to them for a reason: everyone always left him in the end. It may have been a bitter statement, but it was all Harry had known when growing up. I’m better off on my own, he thought, packing his bag for Hogwarts.
That was another inconvenience. Hogwarts. Due to the contract he had signed, the Ministry required him at the school immediately. Harry had written to the Deputy Headmistress as soon as the Flamels had been admitted into the hospital, and she had replied back promptly, informing him that while he could not join his year mates for the end of term, he could be tested for next year to see where he was academically. It was so rare that Hogwarts took on home-schooled students that this would also allow them to place him accordingly. She had also expressed her sadness at his loss, and other such pleasantries. It was overall what he had expected, a typical boring letter.
Harry was to leave for Hogwarts as soon as he had everything sorted out at the Manor, the Flamel’s Will included. The day after Harry had received what was left to him in the Flamel’s Will (the manor included), Harry finally sat down to take a peek at what they had written to him, spending his last few hours before he left for Hogwarts via Portkey alone.
Sighing, Harry sat back on his bed and stuck his feet on top of the trunk he had left at the end of the bed. He first opened the letter, resisting the urge to delve immediately into the research journal Nicholas had left him. Harry opened the letter, only to find that there were two tucked within. The first was from Perenelle, saying a goodbye in more words, but Nicholas’s was much more interesting.
Dear Harry,
Hope you’re well. Life’s fine, just great. I’m only writing this letter to let you know that if you’re getting it I’m dead. Well, you probably know that already. Don’t you just love beginning misleading letters? I left Gringotts with instructions to mail this to you…though they probably didn’t. The goblins know me well enough by now to avoid doing anything that involves me grinning like a mad man. Not that I’m not mad.
Well this is it. The barmy old codger has kicked the bucket, hasn’t he? In the end, I think I was absolutely mad for attempting to stay alive for so long. There’s only so much that a person can handle before they want to shut themselves off from the world. At the same time…I had the rare and marvellous opportunity of seeing the world as it changed and evolved; something that I’m sure most would give their hearts for. Well, their souls at least. Vampires, you know.
I think death is making me a tad nervous. I know you probably won’t miss the two of us, me and Perenelle, but I’ll certainly miss you. (Can’t speak for Perenelle here, she’s writing her own letter to you.) I wish that we’d had the opportunity to raise you from the beginning—imagine how different all our lives would be! A good different, of course.
There are some things you need to know that I didn’t quite have the courage to tell you while I was among the living. The first is probably the reason why I sought you out for adoption in the first place. And how, I suppose. Of course, I can’t really give you a simple explanation. It involves plot, intrigue, suspense…I feel as if I’m about to write a mystery right now.
When you were born, Harry, the world immediately knew. Lily and James Potter were both of high standing and class within the Wizarding World, and you were their pride and joy. From what I could tell at the time, Lily immediately began looking up spells to further protect you. She worked as a researcher in the Department of Mysteries and had access to knowledge that you and I can only dream of. I think, at some level, she and James both knew you’d be a target. They just didn’t realize how much of one.
From the information I received after the fact, James and Lily were pushed into hiding under the Fidelius Charm by Dumbledore, at the same time Alice and Frank Longbottom decided to do so as well. It is obvious that Dumbledore felt that both families were in grave danger. What proof he had, I do not know, but it was enough to have both intelligent couples alarmed.
I don’t know how much of my library you’ve gotten through yet, Harry, but there’s a book in there solely dedicated to the Fidelius Charm. You probably haven’t gotten around to reading it yet—I’ve seen that your major focus is still alchemy right now—so I’ll explain what exactly it is. The Fidelius Charm essentially keeps anyone who is not in on the ‘Secret’ from seeing the house or even acknowledging its existence. A Secret Keeper is chosen to protect the house, as they take upon themselves the responsibility of keeping the house secret. They will be told an address or something similar that will be the ‘password’ to gain access to the house under the Fidelius Charm. It could be something as simple as “Hogwarts School is located in Scotland” and if under the Fidelius, anyone who’d been told that from the Secret Keeper alone would be allowed access. Anyone who hadn’t (even if they knew that Hogwarts was in Scotland) would not be able to see the school or locate it in any fashion.
I have no idea who the Longbottoms’ Secret Keeper was, but I know that your parents’ Secret Keeper was Sirius Black, though even that information is highly suspect. Yes, he was the escapee of Azkaban Prison that was all over the news several months ago. From what I can gather, he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, despite being James’s best friend. He was named as your godfather long before his treachery was known. After your parents were killed, he hunted down Peter Pettigrew under the pretext of blaming him for the Potters’ murder, and instead killed Peter and twelve Muggles, as I’m sure you know. What is suspect is that he was not given a trial and was pushed straight into Azkaban. This move was supported by Albus Dumbledore.
As you know, you were named the Boy-Who-Lived (and whoever came up with that nickname had no imagination whatsoever) and the world celebrated, etcetera, etcetera. However, surviving the Killing Curse was no mean feat, and certain people began to take a special interest in you. I was one of them.
One of the many abilities I learnt over the years was that of tracking magical persons. The way I learned it was as a branch of Divination—and I know how much stock you put in that—but it is annoyingly precise. It involves setting up a map and hanging an object focused on said person over it, so that it can monitor their whereabouts. Sorry for the invasion of privacy, by the way, but you can’t exactly get mad at me for that—I’m dead! So I kept an eye on you for the first few months, making sure you were generally okay. While you seemed to move around a lot, you eventually settled. Afterwards, I checked up on you every month or so, to make sure everything was in order.
When you were about five or so, you began moving around the country a lot. I decided that perhaps you had some turmoil or something similar going on in your family’s life and decided I’d visit—as soon as it seemed as if the trouble had passed. Imagine my surprise when I found you—finally settled at the orphanage—without a home! I spoke with the owner, and immediately decided that you ought to be adopted. It was clear that you had no knowledge of where you had come from or your importance and it was vital that you know them before you received your Hogwarts letter and fall under Dumbledore’s influence.
So that’s more or less why I adopted you. There were other reasons, but you’ll find most of those in the journal I left you. I might have taken it upon myself to study the way your magic interacts with you—the level of control and power you have for your age is unprecedented, and I felt that I might as well research it since you needed to know the information anyways. The gist of it is more or less that your magic is much more closely connected to you than anyone else—so keep an open mind about what you can do. If anyone tries to tell you that you can’t do something, check it out for yourself before believing them. They might be wrong when it comes to you. I have theories as to why this occurred, but I don’t really want to get into here. You’ll find it all in the journal.
About Albus Dumbledore…be careful, Harry. Don’t trust him at all/, no matter what he says or does. The Albus Dumbledore I knew years ago is not the one of today. I don’t know what happened, but he’s changed for the worse. He’s manipulative, sneaky, and generally wants to use you as his weapon. “For the greater good,” has he put it in a firecall towards me, but don’t allow yourself to be drawn into his “greater good” crap. When Albus was growing up, he believed in being straightforward, not being manipulative, and that everyone deserved their own life. He would have never sacrificed or used one person for a cause, not if they were unwilling or uninformed. However, a few decades ago all this changed and Albus’s mind became…poisoned, almost. I don’t know. I don’t want to know why or how it happened, just that he is not the person he is made out to be. /Do not trust him.
Before I’ll close this letter, I’ll give you a reminder about Hogwarts. Whatever you do, do not/ let anyone see your scar. Keep it covered by Muggle and Magical methods/ at all times. Wizards don’t frequently check for Muggle disguising tactics, so you ought to be fine. Actually, scratch that. You should attempt to change a bit of your appearance as much as possible. There are people at Hogwarts who knew your parents and know what they looked like. From the pictures I’ve seen, you look a lot like your father, though you have your mother’s eyes. If you’re not careful, someone will put two and two together and get Harry Potter. Again, I suggest Muggle methods combined with Wizarding methods.
That said, I’ve got some last minute advice for you. Live your life how you want to live it. Life is for the living, as they say. I wish you the best of luck in living, Harry, and hope that you’re happy. Don’t fear death though…after living so long in this world, I can safely say that I’m anticipating death quite eagerly. I’m incredibly curious what it will hold. And if it’s nothing…well at least I know that I’ve lived a full life. So live yours and don’t wallow. You do too much of that as it is.
-Nicholas
PS—A heads up for you: Slytherin doesn’t always mean evil.
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