image [https://imghoster.de/images/2024/07/24/gryffindor-common-room-021917.jpg]
“-. November 1, 1992 .-“
“He slept in my bed!” Ron moaned sickly, falling on the armchair completely past caring that literally the whole of Gryffindor house was listening. In defiance of McGonagall’s orders to turn in, which the prefects had passed down and promptly disobeyed themselves. Harry could have put it off until tomorrow, but he couldn’t do that to Ron. He could have had the talk between just the three of them in the dorm, but he couldn’t in good conscience kick the other boys out. And he could have left everyone hanging, but then who knows what rumors would start before he could do anything about them again? Malfoy would be insufferable, Harry agreed with Ron there, and Hermione had grudgingly agreed too because she didn’t want to wait either. So Harry told everyone what happened that evening. Well, what he could without sounding like a crazy person, he’d leave that to Fred and George to handle when they came back. There was still much gawping from the entire house, enough to make Harry extremely uncomfortable, but hopefully it would go away as quickly as everything else did in Hogwarts.
He held back on the private important stuff until the next day.
That was not the highlight of next day though. Partly because the real highlight ended in the closest thing to tears. And partly because he woke up that morning to find that he’d grown several inches overnight and didn’t need glasses anymore.
Say ‘ah’, rang in his brain.
“Holy hell,” Harry whispered after he fled from the loo back to the darkness of his curtained bed where it was safe. Harry James Potter was absolutely dumbstruck. Then he was a curled up, weeping mess because… because nobody had ever been so kind to him ever!
He was also absolutely ravenous, which drove him from bed, room and tower to have triple what Nicolas’ meal plan said to eat for breakfast. And lunch. And since he was still hungry and their classes ended just after mid-day period, he took Ron and Hermione on a detour to the kitchens (which he must have found in a dream or someplace). Hermione spent the rest of their walk to the Black Lake swinging between outrage at slavery to outrage at the absurdity of ‘punishing’ provably malicious fae by giving them exactly what they’d always wanted and what was Merlin thinking letting them get off for mass child kidnapping with… with… “With community service?!”
Harry hmmd and hawed in all the right places, but his mind was really more concerned with the fact that Nicolas had left the castle before dawn and still hadn’t come back.
Neither had the headmaster.
“Anyway. Harry,” Hermione said primly as they settled on their blanket. “You said you were finally ready to talk to us. I hope you can actually follow through on it this time.”
Harsh, but fair. “Yeah, I-”
“Food first,” Ron grunted, already tearing into a mayo and chicken sandwich. “No talk’ng ‘bout imporfant sthuff on ‘n empty st’mach.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Ron, don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgusting!” Hermione turned her nose, then primly seized her own sandwich and proceeded to eat with all the aplomb of someone who’d endured Ron’s atrocious table manners so long that her own stomach was plated in iron now.
Harry didn’t comment even though he also thought Ron should be a bit more aloof considering one of his brothers was still in the hospital wing after… wait.
Ron’s a stress eater, Harry realized suddenly. Man, I’m dumb.
The food was delicious, but it didn’t make the worry go away.
“Right,” Ron said after he finished his sandwich and four chicken wings, allowing him to eat at a more human pace. Not that Harry was any better these days. “Now, mate, we’re ready to hear why you’re suddenly as tall as me.”
“… Yes,” Hermione said slowly. “That is a rather dramatic overnight change, isn’t it? Harry, would you mind ever so much casting the Patronus Charm?”
“Hermione!” Harry ‘gasped’ blandly. “Suspecting your best friend’s been replaced, for shame.” But he flicked his wand out because fair was fair. “Expecto Patronum.” Prongs emerged and cantered around them brilliantly.
“… I’m still amazed you can do that,” Hermione said in a murmur as Prongs nuzzled against her hand.
Harry spied some older students staring in shock from the other side of the lake, but what was the point hiding anything at this point? It was nothing compared to cutting the killing curse in half, and George had loudly and grandly proclaimed it to all and sundry at noon meal.
“I still can’t make more than mist come out,” Ron said sullenly, as if casting the Patronus Charm to begin with wasn’t an extremely rare feat that even adult wizards seldom managed. “Why is it so hard? It can’t be so difficult if you can do it!”
Harry ignored the jab. George had utterly failed to make his littlest brother feel better, instead reminding him that Fred was still in bed suffering Cruciatus exposure. It was a wonder he was so open to talking about Harry’s own problems, even just as a distraction. “You haven’t been challenged yet, I think is the reason,” Harry pat the crumbs off himself as best he could.
“Maybe we can talk to Hagrid about finding us a lethifold.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron, that’s insane,” Hermione scoffed. “And you, Harry, you’re dodging the issue.”
“Yeah, mate, you’re the one who invited us out here, so come on, spill.”
They’re your only friends in this world. “Right. I guess the best place to start is first year. Day before we left Hogwarts, I decided on a whim to send a letter.”
He told them everything that happened as best he could remember since he had none of the letters to provide as proof, seeing as they had been eaten by Hedwig or shattered to pieces on the dorm floor (Harry had gathered every last shard of the show globe and begun to religiously practice the Reparo charm). He didn't leave anything out, told them of the letters, the dreams, Nicolas' lessons, everything up until the Hogwarts visions because that’s when... Dad happened. He needed to catch his breath before tackling that.
And the adoption, because that…
That couldn’t be real, right? He must have misunderstood something. Yes, that was definitely it, Nicolas had outright told him it was only until the end of the year. Whatever it was. Nothing would really change that mattered. Nothing.
Keep a straight face, Potter, you can’t cry every time someone’s nice to you, especially when it’s just your being so greedy that you’re never happy with what you get.
“That’s… That’s amazing, Harry,” Hermione said, voice hushed. “I didn’t know there was so much magic that Hogwarts doesn’t teach.”
It wasn’t so wonderful while it was going on. But Harry didn’t say anything because Ron was looking frowny all of a sudden. “Ron?”
Ron shook himself from his glum mood and grabbed his milk bottle to wash down his scone with. Then he grabbed a strip of bacon because he always thought better if he had something to chew on, he promised. “You know how Colin’s been constantly arguing with that Hufflepuff? I think I heard something like that once, but I’m not sure. They seemed to argue about a lot of stuff at once, talk was all over the place really. Thought they meant crystal balls and just didn’t know the proper name, muggleborn you know? Some of the older years corrected them too, before they got swept into the argument anyhow.”
Colin? Colin Creevy? And a Hufflepuff? A couple of second years had the key to the one and only vision that stumped Nicolas Freaking Flamel? Colin Creevy and a Hufflepuff second year? “Which Hufflepuff?”
“Do you mean Justin Finch-Fletchley?” Hermione guessed.
Oh, was that the name? Harry had probably tuned out his existence because he made an effort to tune out Colin’s existence, which was practically automatic at this point. Not that he had anything against Colin, exactly, he was just… so exhausting to share a world with. Which Nicolas would probably be disappointed in him for thinking, Harry thought glumly. “We’ll talk to Colin later then, I guess.” Merlin, he was already feeling tired just thinking about it.
It’s not you, Harry, he told himself. It’s your curiosity. You’re secretly an animagus and your form is a cat. Except unlike McGonagall, curiosity’s already killed the cat a dozen times over and there’s never been enough satisfaction to bring it back.
Wait, didn’t that proverb mean the opposite of what everyone thinks?
Hermione was frowning now too. “Come to think of it, the idea of a crystal sphere the size of a solar system does sound a little familiar. I think it might have been a feature of the geocentric model, but I’m not sure. We’ll have to research it.”
Of course they would.
“Thanks for ruining my appetite, Hermione,” Ron groused, to Hermione’s huff. “Anyway. Harry.”
“Yeah, Ron?”
"You can control dreams."
"My dreams." So far, anyway.
“Which you’ve used to live alternate lives,” Hermione said slowly. “Which somehow weren’t just your subconscious playing tricks on you because you’ve somehow managed to acquire forbidden knowledge and spells like the Patronus Charm.”
“I wouldn’t call any of it forbidden, exactly.” Could he? “And I can’t really control anything yet, it just sort of happened once or twice.” Harry paused. “Well, three times if you count the dream I had before the Quidditch match.”
“What’s that?” Ron demanded, suddenly razor-focused faster than Harry had said quidditch.
That led to another talk about where it all started.
By the end of it, Ron was as amazed as he was jealous and Hermione was thoughtful. “So three times. Once to learn to fly. Once to learn the Patronus – though apparently it was just an accident from being married-“
“Because that makes sense,” Ron mumbled around his snack, because he was snacking again of course.
“- and the third time to learn the location of what might be your ancestral family home that nobody knows about, Harry, this is amazing!” Hermione gushed. “Do you understand what this means? You could learn so much, experience so many things, Harry you – you’re living proof of the multiverse theory!”
“The what?” Ron asked.
Now it was Hermione’s turn to veer into a long-winded explanation, not that Harry had been at all long-winded or anything. If he had been he’d have actually mentioned who his dream wife was. Had been. Would be? Or wouldn’t? Would that be better? There was a medical term for people who lusted after copies of their mothers, Harry was pretty sure. Was that from a dream too?
“So you see, you prove the truth of the many-worlds theory!” Hermione proclaimed. “Oh, you must teach us how to do this too, Harry, think of all we could learn! Oh, I can’t wait to try it, just seeing a glimpse of all possible choices, can you imagine the possibilities?”
Harry could imagine quite a bit and he didn’t like it. If Hermione’s theory was that you had no choice but to make all possible choices, and everyone else also had no choice but to make all possible choices, then free will didn’t exist and he didn’t want that to be true at all. Especially since it also meant suffering every possible hardship, injury, humiliation and torture under the sun. Apparently. “I guess? I’m not sure it’s teachable though, I don’t know that it’s something you can usually do in dreams, even Nicolas is pretty stumped.”
“But you have to try! We’re learning the Patronus, aren’t we? That should be impossible for two second years too.”
That was not the same though? “I guess?”
“You’re both barmy,” Ron huffed.
They fell quiet while the wind breezed around them and the giant squid emerged and plunged back into the outer depths of the loch. Hermione was making notes about what to research first. Ron was quietly munching on a last scone and staring at nothing over the water.
Hold on, Harry thought with alarms blaring in his head. Ron’s never so still and quiet, not for this long. Harry watched Ron more closely while trying not to make it obvious, which he was usually pants at. Which in turn made his worry even worse when he seemed to get away with it. Something’s not right.
“Harry, hold up.” Ron obliviously ruined Harry’s chance to ask what was wrong. If anything, seeing as Fred was plenty bad enough already. “You still haven’t explained why you’re so tall now.”
“Oh. Right.” He completely forgot. “I…” He was going to sound insane. “I think Nicolas gave me the Elixir of Life last night.”
Harry had prepared for lots of things from them after dropping that bomb.
What he hadn’t prepared for was Hermione’s panic.
“-. .-“
“So you see, Harry, we have to find out, it might already be too late!”
Yes, Harry had indeed prepared for everything his friends would throw at him after that revelation. Except for Ron to be too sullen to give more than a token protest when Hermione dragged them into a twelve-book research binge that ended with her asking Harry point-blank if he was now forever stuck as a twelve year old.
“Gee, thanks a lot, Hermione,” Harry said sarcastically. “What ever would I do without you scaring the lights out of me?”
“This is serious Harry, we have to talk to Mister Flamel immediately!”
Unfortunately, that proved impossible because it got to dinner time and Nicolas still wasn’t back. And once again, neither was the Headmaster.
The reason for that became apparent when a storm of owls descended on the people in the Great Hall, one of whom was Eudaimon. He had a letter in his talons, a narrow long one wrapped around the Daily Prophet, Special Evening Edition, November 2, 1992.
> Harry,
>
> In the interest of pre-empting certain malicious interests whose clandestine reach is only exceeded by their personal stake in your business – and would therefore much rather have your godfather stay in prison, if not suffer a terminal incident ever so mysteriously – Albus has decided to take the initiative in a way I can only agree with.
>
> There was one close call, but the article ended up as accurate as it could be. I will be starting your studies of law after this.
>
> I am sorry we couldn’t meet today as planned. I will see you tomorrow,
>
> ~Love, Nicolas.
The letter turned into the wing carapace of some sort of blue beetle. Weird. Harry shrugged and gave it to Eudaimon, who ate it and then pointedly looked at the black pudding. Harry rolled his eyes and forked a chunk of it for the owl to indulge, the bird liked being catered to after a flight. So of course Hedwig would land on his shoulder and disdainfully hoot for her proper share of affection too. Harry tolerantly leaned aside to make room for her and ignored the two birds passive aggressively competing over who could eat the most. He spread out the front page of the paper instead.
> PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE! SIRIUS BLACK NOT THE POTTER SECRET KEEPER! BLACK IS BOY-WHO-LIVED’S GODFATHER?!
>
> BY A. FENETRE
>
> With a heavy lump in his throat, Harry read the article to make sure it was as accurate as Nicolas said – not that he doubted Nicolas or anything – and then looked around the hall.
>
> If anyone disbelieved him at all about last night, they didn’t now.
“-. .-“
That evening, nobody in the castle and especially the Common Room had anything to talk about that wasn’t somehow related to the Gryffindor Death Eater. Not the least of which because of the Very Bad Things that the Prophet article exposed about Voldemort, Death Eaters, Pettigrew, and even the former Minister.
Up until someone speculated one time too many on why and how this and that was or wasn’t exposed at Black’s trial and Ron just snapped.
“There was no trial!”
The Common Room didn’t all fall silent immediately, but it didn’t take all that long either.
Ron was way past being embarrassed by the attention, but he didn’t seem inclined to keep it on himself for once. He glowered at everyone before turning to Harry, who’d spent the time since dinner growing increasingly closed off as the implications of having his rightful guardian put away for no crime kept hitting him. “How do you want to handle this? You’re the only one anyone’s paying attention to anyway.”
Harry was hard-pressed not to flinch at how bitter Ron sounded talking to him just then. Did I do something? “I have no idea,” he replied instead. “This is the first time I hear of it too.”
“Remember when I said I’d ask Dad? When we were researching the thing?” Harry rather pettily relished the confusion on everyone else’s faces. “Well, I did. And all he’s been able to tell me all this time is that he still can’t find anything. He thought the records were sealed or something, but now?”
“You think there wasn’t one at all?” Hermione asked, appalled, but hesitated to argue for it. “… It’s terrible to think about, but if Sirius Black is innocent, then it’s practically impossible that a trial wouldn’t have exonerated him with all the ways that magic can find out the truth. But why would they do that? Even if they decided expediency was most important, they should have revisited the case after the war ended, surely?”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Guess Bagnold was just too busy throwing parties,” Wood joked, then frowned when everyone seemed to take it seriously. “No, really? You lot think she was in on it?”
In on what? What was ‘it’ exactly?
That caused a whole other mess of arguments which got even wilder when someone mentioned that Minister Fudge himself had been first on the scene.
Certain malicious interests whose clandestine reach is only exceeded by their personal stake in your business.
Shite.
It took a long time for the House to break up that night. Harry would normally have retired way earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave when it meant he could miss some important discovery. Hermione was with him all the while, taking copious notes of everything she heard – wait, Hermione knew shorthand now?
Ron, though, only got quieter and his mood darker the more time passed, and it went way past just not having food on hand to distract himself with.
“Ron?” Harry called, as lowly as he could now that there wasn’t as much chatter to go unnoticed in. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” Ron scowled. “Everything’s peachy.”
What was he missing? “Is it Percy?” Harry hadn’t seen him do or say anything out of the ordinary, but Percy’s ordinary was enough to be getting on with and-
“It’s not him, it’s everyone else,” Ron hissed darkly. “My brothers were put in the hospital wing. One of them’s still there, Fred was Crucioed yesterday. Yesterday! But everyone’s already forgotten about it. It’s like nobody cares. They only care about-” Ron bit off the end and glared down at the chess set and all its very wary pieces.
They only care about me, Harry finished in his head. They only care about what I do and damn everyone else.
“Hey Harry,” Ron cut through his self-pity with an even sharper knife. “This thing with Nicolas Flamel…”
Did he stumble on the adoption papers? But he’d carried them in his backpack all day and it was right here. “Yeah?”
“You’re training to become a prophet, yeah?”
“I think it’s more like a diviner.”
“Whatever,” Ron put his chin on his clasped hands, sounding tense as a bowstring. “I don’t suppose you saw anything about what happened to Fred and George.”
Harry went still and became suddenly aware that their big talk had been completely derailed before he got around to telling them about the Hogwarts visions.
And everything else.
Shite, what do I do? This isn’t a good time.
Unfortunately, Ron saw something else in his hesitation. “… You did.”
“Not about the twins!” Harry blurted, his temper rearing out of nowehere immediately after because apparently he didn’t have a grasp on it either when even his best friend jumped straight to assuming the worst of him. “I didn’t know anything about Pettigrew or… all that.” Come to think of it, his visions hadn’t warned him about any of it, what even was up with that? It seemed like a pretty big thing to miss!
“What did you see then?” Ron demanded.
“…This might not be the best place for this.”
“Yes it is.”
“Ron-“
“Neville, Dean and Seamus are already up there, so there’s literally no difference where we talk.”
Harry looked at him in disbelief. Was it really better to stay and hope their words were lost in the-
Ron’s face twisted into something ugly and miserable.
Harry broke. “Ron, are you sure you want-?“
“Yes I’m sure!”
The chatter nearest to them dipped. Hermione glared up from her notebook to glare at everyone. Parvati and Lavender went back to whatever they were babbling about and soon so did everyone else. Harry briefly considered taking this to the dorm anyway-
“Harry, I’m not up for any more secrets right now.”
“Fine,” Harry snapped, because they really were apparently doing this in the wrong place at the wrong time. “You want to know what I saw?” Harry bit out a whisper, leaning forward over the table until he and Ron were almost nose to nose. “I saw Ginny finger-painting on the walls in red paint.’”
Ron recoiled, open-mouthed, while Hermione drew back in shock, hand over her mouth.
Harry regretted it immediately, but what else was he even supposed to do? He pulled back. “Are you happy now?”
Ron just kept staring at him, open-mouthed. Then he snapped it shut, grabbed his backpack, got up and left.
Harry watched him go, a hollow, wretched feeling yawning open inside him.
“… You shouldn’t have let him browbeat you, Harry,” Hermione said as if that wasn’t exactly what Harry was already regretting. “Whatever he thinks, this was not the best time and place for… Were you serious, Harry? Gi-“ She stopped, but Harry already knew what she wanted to ask. How could he claim this? Why would she do this? How could she possibly petrify people? She was a firstie, wasn’t she?
Harry bit back whatever unkind things he’d inevitably say to Hermione next and stayed quiet for the rest of the evening, well into the night after Hermione and the rest of the house turned in. Then he grabbed his backpack, went to the loo, put on the Cloak and left the Tower unseen and unheard. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he didn’t want to be in the same room as Ron right now because Ron didn’t want to be in the same room as Harry right now and Harry at least was a good mate even in bad weather unlike some people.
Friendship, everyone! Let’s take a moment of silence for our dearly departed. He wasn’t with us long, but man did he liven things up!
Why did his best quips happen only when nobody was around to hear them?
Harry had just finished his third random circuit of the Seventh Floor except the opposite side of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy – what even made the Purple Room purple if all the doors looked the same?! – when he stopped in his tracks at the sound of footsteps. Harry quickly hid behind the nearest armor and waited.
Albus Dumbledore appeared, humming a low tune as he walked seemingly oblivious to everything around him, then stopped just as he was about to pass the statue and turned to look right at him. “Out again, Harry?”
Busted.
Dumbledore continued. “I have it on fairly good authority that no other miscreants, criminals, or fugitives from justice have come to reside in the castle in the past twenty-four hours, disguised or otherwise.”
Harry reluctantly took the Cloak off and stuffed it in his pocket. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t any others from before.”
“I assure you, Harry, infiltrating Hogwarts through any means less extreme that our recently relocated rat is quite unlikely. Unless you are out and about for reasons other than seeking the heart’s desire?”
Harry kept his mouth shut and thinned his lips as the vision of Ginny finger-painting in red flashed through his mind. He stopped himself from meeting Dumbledore’s gaze, wishing he wasn’t reminded of the Mirror now of all times. He had enough to deal with as is.
Dumbledore motioned him to follow. “Come now. It’s a bit late to be out in the halls.”
Harry was confused that they were only going further away from Gryffindor Tower, but maybe Hogwarts changed more at night than he thought.
“Tell me, Harry, have you had cause to visit the Hospital Wing again today?”
“No, sir.”
“What about accidental magic, have you suffered any more outbursts like that?”
“No, sir.” They continued in silence. It was awkward. He wanted to ask about Nicolas and the Ministry and the Paper and Sirius, but he couldn’t get the words out. So when he did open his mouth, he only managed a “…Why? Wait, what do you mean more outbursts?”
“I mean that a Calming Draught takes effect instantly and only lasts for roughly five minutes after. It may linger for ten to fifteen in some patients, but only rarely and never more than that. Certainly not a whole hour as was the case for you yesterday.”
“I did what?”
“Think, Harry, was there any moment where you felt particularly strongly about your temper? Wished for the blessed serenity to last, perhaps? You were understandably overwrought when you were brought in.”
Finding a trustworthy teacher that will not abuse the privilege of seeing your deepest self is the tallest order. “I think so.”
“There you have it. Of course, the fact you were driven to accidental magic is its own evidence that you should not have been put into that situation so soon to begin with, but hindsight makes fools of all.”
The footsteps rang hollow and damning and Harry wasn’t under a calming draught anymore. “That’s it?” He demanded, stopping where he was. “That’s it, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened? After you-“ Harry felt like he might really scream this time, but what was even the use? Was Legilimency even a crime in the Wizarding World? He didn’t know. There was so much he didn’t know, why wouldn’t everyone treat him like he was stupid, even Ron had-
Dumbledore stopped, turned, clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Harry calmly. “I will not apologise for treating you the same as all other children. I should apologise for being the sort of man who ransacks the minds of children to begin with, but it would not be heartfelt and you hold liars in contempt. I do only do so in truly extreme circumstances, and I have never once overstepped by seeking more than was relevant to the situation that called for such measures, but I will not demand allowances for something I consider cold comfort myself. Perhaps that is what I should apologise for – that I’ve become such a man that I can ransack the minds of children without feeling regrets at all. We are here.”
Harry barely had time to register everything Dumbledore had just told him when the headmaster knocked on… some door and turned to walk away how could he just-?!
“Leaving already, Albus?” Nicolas idly asked from where he’d appeared in the door. “I thought you’d accepted my invitation to dine?”
"Nicolas," Dumbledore stopped and turned, looking a tiny bit less serene, but his eyes twinkled at Nicolas, who was meeting them straight on and – wait, were they talking through Legilimency? The mind arts were so useful, it was so unfair, can't he just hate them in peace? "As a matter of fact I was coming over to do just that, but I believe present company would like it better if – Nicolas, really! There is no need for-"
But Nicolas had already literally marched Dumbledore inside. “Making decisions for other people without their input is what got you into this mess.” Then he came out to usher Harry in as well. “Let me guess,” he told him after closing the door behind them. “He pulled an ‘I am the worst of people and don’t deserve any understanding or sympathy’ and tried to make you hate him so you’d have a clean break, as if that’s even possible.”
Harry gaped. Is that what was happening?
“That answers that,” Nicolas scoffed, motioning for them both to go further in. “Don’t hold it against Albus too much, Harry, I’ve tried for years to show him that his self-flagellation is just as selfish when it goes and causes its own host of problems to the same people he’s feeling guilty over, but does he listen? Bah! Of course not! Some people would to anything to hang onto their attachments, but then there’s people like Albus who go too far in the other direction. I blame it on his guilt over unjustly blaming his father instead of the ministry for throwing him in Azkaban for the high crime of avenging his daughter’ assault.”
“Nicolas, really?” Dumbledore protested.
“Communication, Albus. Extenuating circumstances, they’re his one weakness, Harry, he thinks he’s the only person in the world not entitled to them. Let me guess, he didn’t mention any of the exceptional lengths he went to on your behalf either, did he? Last night too.”
Harry had wound up on a seat at the table somehow. There were books in front of him. One was thick and old, lacking any name on the cover. The other was a paper hardcovers called The Mythical World of Atlantis: Theories of the Lost Empire by Preston B. Whitmore. He was amazed he could ever read right now. “… On my behalf?”
“Yes,” Nicolas said dryly, picking up the books on the table he clearly hadn’t expected to need tonight but was going to the trouble to clear anyway because he was the best ever. “Albus backed me up yesterday entirely for your sake, despite that I practically invaded his domain, did so without the courtesy of a warning, and stepped on a fair bit of his business elsewhere in the doing. All to steal you for myself, which I assure you he does not appreciate in the slightest, he is quite attached to you as it happens.” So he was adopting – no, don’t jump to conclusions, Potter, that’s what got you into this mess. “That I am critical of his approach to your treatment didn’t endear me much to him either-“
“I disagreed with your interference with the magic I set up for his protection that has no peer and cannot be duplicated,” Dumbledore cut in. “And I continue to do so, but the situation cannot be salvaged any longer, so arguing over it any further is pointless.”
“But he still joined his force to mine and even silenced that one Auror before he could become a nuisance. That’s something that would have been career-ending for literally anyone else. I don’t suppose he mentioned any of that?”
Well now Harry felt kind of bad. “… No.”
“Hmph. Just between you and me, Harry,” Nicolas said with Dumbledore sitting right there. “With Albus I usually find it worth forgiving when he resorts to Legilimency in his line of work. Not so much on students, obviously, but I bet he didn’t mention that thoughts are practically broadcasted by some people half the time? You’re not exactly white noise yourself, though you’re better than most, which is why he needed to put effort into it to begin with. It’s that same habit that let him know the Minister was already considering having your godfather fed to dementors before the Pettigrew scandal could explode.”
“What!?”
“It was a hopeless thought, but one born of self-preservation. Such thoughts have the habit of turning to action when combined with the money of unsavoury personages. And Lucius Malfoy has a very vested interest in having his son inherit the Black fortune. Anyway, we can talk more about that after we eat, unlike you we both missed dinner. I hope you like boeuf bourguignon, Perenelle sent some over, and I’ve got some bread-crumbed squash and poor knights.”
Harry’s mind was spinning. He definitely believed Nicolas and the Headmaster had been teacher and student at one point, they were way too alike. “Poor knights?” He asked stupidly.
“French toast.”
“Oh. Right. Thanks.”
Nicolas just harrumphed and turned his back on them to go into the adjoining kitchen. “Am stram gram,” was heard from inside. “Pique et pique et colégram, Bourre et bourre et ratatam, Am, stram, gram…”
Harry’s eyes widened and he turned to the headmaster. “Please tell me he’s not reciting a curse.”
Finally, Dumbledore’s face softened. “No, Harry. I suspect he’s mixing and matching the dishes.”
“By reciting a spell in an unknown language?”
Dumbledore actually cracked a smile at him now, why? “It’s not a spell, Harry. It’s eenie meenie miney mo. In French.”
Harry gaped, then flushed in embarrassment and didn’t say anything until he had the food in front of him and he finally had an excuse to not say anything even longer.
The food was delicious. More so than even what the house elves served, though he was probably biased because of the source.
It was much later, after they’d all eaten and Nicolas got them settled in the living room with hot cocoa in their hands, but without having Harry escorted back to Gryffindor Tower, that Harry realized he was the one they were waiting on.
“So,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat and did his best to talk like a real human might. “The Prophet…?”
“That was Albus’ very excellent pre-emptive attack. Any harm that comes to Sirius Black from this point on is a guaranteed end to Fudge’s career.”
Harry couldn’t help shooting Dumbledore a grateful look.
The headmaster hummed mildly, availing himself of Nicolas’ bowl of sweets. “I’ve already used you as a cover more than once. It was past time I returned the favour.”
The stone at Gringotts, Harry realised.
Nicolas palmed his face. “You see, Harry? He’s hopeless. Whenever he makes a bit of progress, he backslides because of all the baggage. I am at my wits’ end! Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No.”
Harry looked away, uncomfortable being treated… exactly like he always wanted adults to treat him, he really was pathet – wait, was that what he thought he was? “You have a boombox?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, it’s much more practical than a gramophone, the sound quality is much superior and the selection is quite superlative. Do you have any favorites? I can put something on if you like.”
"You mean it works?" Harry asked before Nicolas could get up and Harry would need to admit he didn't know any songs because his experience with music was limited to the few, bland tunes Vernon put on the car radio those few times he was taken anywhere. "Electronics don't work in Hogwarts. At least that's what everyone says."
“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore mused. “True for most practical intents and purposes.”
“Emphasis on the practical, little one. In truth, it’s more of an issue with how magic treats copper.”
"Quite," Dumbledore nodded. "Copper is the fundamental material used in all modern technology, and for good reason. Copper was known to the ancients as orichalcum. Before spells were created that could collect the energy from the ether, light, motion and much else was made through magic that drew electricity from the world around it, and it took a long time to make even those workings efficient in absence of wands and arithmancy. Orichalcum was an essential part of all enchantments at one time, much as it is ubiquitous in electrical devices today. It's not that magic disrupts technology, it's that magic has been primed to use orichalcum for its own ends. That's what the Pyramids were for."
"Wait," Harry said, putting his empty cup down. "Are you saying copper was part of some past magical revolution like it was for the industrial revolution? And magic is... stuck in the habit of just doing things with it all the time now?"
"More or less." Nicolas nodded approvingly. "Either way, for electrical devices to work in places like Hogwarts, you need to either change how Magic itself works somehow - unlikely - or you need to change all the copper in them with gold or silver. A fairly expensive enterprise, and certainly not as straightforward as you might think. The metals have different material specifications, doing the modifications requires certain technical expertise that wizards generally lack. As with all things, however, there are exceptions – I myself have a contact across the pond who I go to for all my magic-proofing needs. I don't think you're ready for that particular level of insanity, however."
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He was forced by external circumstances to drop out of school before his WOMBATs – that’s the equivalent of OWLs in the United States. MACUSA obliviated him and everyone connected to him of all magic as a result, they tend to go overboard with their enforcement of the statute there.”
“Which is eminently strange, for a country funded on freedom from tyranny,” Dumbledore mused.
“Right,” Harry said automatically because he didn’t care. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It matters because he was still a trained wizard, and in absence of memories and a wand to tell him what to do with the magic that would now not wither, he set his mind towards solving the problem of electronics constantly shorting out around him. The result of which is that he is now a master engineer that solved the great magical mystery of our time without knowing what he was doing. Now he’s trying to hack magic without knowing what he’s doing. And that’s just the start of what he’s done. Don’t even get me started on his entourage. I repeat – you are not ready for their madness.”
“Are you serious?” Harry asked incredulously. “He can’t be crazier than the DADA teacher being possessed by Voldemort.”
“His animagus form is a robot.”
“…What.”
“Yes, that was my reaction as well.”
… I stand corrected, Harry thought dumbly. “A muggleborn accidentally invented robot shapeshifting because he was obliviated – that’s it!” Harry gasped in realization.
Dumbledore and Nicolas were staring at him.
What else was new? “Can you temporarily obliviate someone?”
“… Yes.”
“Huh.” Harry turned to Dumbledore then. “Do that then.”
Dumbledore looked confused. Really, actually confused for once. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”
Harry addressed Nicolas. “You said he keeps falling into old habits because he’s got baggage, right?” He turned back to Dumbledore, who looked sour now but it was his own fault. “Temporarily obliviate yourself and then… well, research!” It always worked for Hermione at least. “Read about yourself? That should help, right?”
The two ancient wizards were looking at Harry like they expected him to sprout two extra heads. And new limbs. And maybe some horns and a tail.
“It was just a suggestion,” Harry muttered, crossing his arms defensively.
“I stand corrected,” Nicolas weirdly echoed Harry’s own thought from earlier. “You might, in fact, be insane.”
“Crazy enough to meet your friends?”
“No.”
“But-“
“Until you’re of age and can legally disobey my commands to not have anything to do with them without my express say so, you’re not getting anywhere near that place.”
“And on that note,” Dumbledore cut in, rising from his chair. “I believe that is my cue to retire.”
It was?
It was only when Dumbledore was already at the door that Harry finally remembered something important. "Wait!"
Dumbledore stopped and turned, surprised.
“You…” Harry grit his teeth, hating that he didn’t seem to have the right words for anything today. “It only happened the once. Right?”
“… With you, yes.”
“I…” Go on, Potter, say it, say it, say it if you ever expect forgiveness in return. “I can forgive you the once.”
The headmaster looked down at him, surprised. And more.
Harry’s words finally knit together on the back of a weave he built in unremembered dreams. “But if you do it again, to me or to my friends, I won’t make the same mistake.” And daringly, Harry met Albus Dumbledore’s eyes straight on.
They didn’t twinkle once. “I understand.” Then the headmaster left.
He didn’t promise, Harry thought hollowly. He didn’t say he’d never do it again.
“I believe it is well past time for you to be in bed as well, Harry.”
Nicolas just let it go.
Harry felt even worse then, but even so he didn’t want to go anywhere. “Can-“ Can I stay here tonight? But Harry found he wasn’t brave enough. “Can-“ He had to say something, but what? “Can we talk about those papers first?” Actually, that really was important.
“I’ll do you one better.” Nicolas briefly left the hallway and returned with new papers. Papers that looked identical to the other ones, except they didn’t have an end term.
Harry’s breath left him and his heart pounded in his temples.
"The papers before were temporary, as I'd still rather the final decision should be yours. These are the proper forms for adoption. I want you to take them, read them and give me an answer by-"
“YES!”
“-the end of the year. By then, you should have had enough time to-”
“I said yes.”
“No, Harry,” Nicolas Flamel pronounced with total finality. “You will take these, you will read them and you will make an informed, properly reasoned decision using the entirety of the allotted time frame. After you’ve talked it through with those you trust. After you’ve spent enough time with me – and my wife whom you haven’t yet met – to decide if we can also be counted among those precious few. Yesterday I tricked you into drinking an unknown substance and your last blood kin just sold you, Harry. Do not underestimate the second thoughts and conflicting feelings you will have for the next several months. Do not dismiss your second thoughts, do not suppress your misgivings. Critical thinking is the one thing you should never compromise on.”
Harry’s grip almost went through the paper. His fingers should have torn through the paper with how hard he was gripping them, they must have been spelled.
“Now.” Nicolas’ manner softened. “I apologise but we won’t be able to meet before afternoon tomorrow. I need the time to go to Gringotts and set up a meeting this weekend for you to check your finances.”
“My finances,” Harry said flatly. I don’t care about my finances!
“It will likely be tedious, but you need to get started on that sooner rather than later. Goblins don’t work to expand the wealth of their clients, quite the opposite. They hate wizards and do their best to fleece them. They offer no interest on deposits, but they do on loans, and they charge service and vault fees to a total far beyond the tribute they need to pay the ministry annually. Also, the exchange rates on pounds per galleon are literal robbery.”
Now he sounded like Binns, Harry didn’t care about Goblins, why was Nicolas doing this? Was he always going to drop a bomb on him and send him off to deal with it on his own, was that what Harry had to look forward to?
“You might also want to warn your muggleborn friend against going to Gringotts looking for vaults belonging to secret squib or magical grandparents. Odds are there are. Vaults that have been drained dry and have only a backlog of fees in need of payment. The goblins will rob even children blind if given the opportunity, while protecting the vaults of convicted criminals up to and including lifetime Azkaban inmates responsible for dozens of proven murders. I’ll grant them that their security is as close to the best that you can get in the isles, but it’s nowhere near expensive enough to justify this greed. But this is what monopolies get you. Honestly, giving a foreign enemy nation total and sole control of your money is the height of stupidity. If Wizards and Witches weren’t so self-sufficient, the ICW would have collapsed long ago.”
Harry felt a lot like a robot himself as he let Nicolas lead him back to the Fat Lady's portrait and said his goodbyes.
It was only when he reached his dorm that he remembered that he was on the outs with those he trusted. He’d completely forgotten to ask Nicolas what was being done about Ginny and the rest of it too.
Screw it, Harry thought petulantly. He already knows from my letters. If he forgets about it, it’s his business. Besides, it would be bloody awful to talk to him about Ron’s family issues like that. Especially without asking Ron first. I don’t want to make him even angrier with me. He’s one of my two only friends, right?
It didn’t make Harry feel any better, but what else was new?
Hopefully things would be better in the morning.