Welcome all readers. Those of you who know my work may think I'm biting off more than I can chew by posting a third story. You may be right. But I'll have you know I'm enjoying every minute of it.

What you recognize as the work of J.K. Rowling quite obviously belongs to her. It would be the epitome of both vanity and foolishness to take credit for anything.

Last note, I hope some of you will leave a word or two telling me what you think. I welcome constructive criticism with open arms, and reviews make me dance around my apartment with happiness. On that note, enjoy!

There was a brisk knock on the door, and Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself as he looked up from that morning's Daily Prophet. That would be Minerva, coming to discuss the newest Hogwarts students for the year. "Enter," he said pleasantly, and he was not disappointed; Minerva McGonagall opened the door, looking quite as sharp and efficient as ever, and strode across the antechamber into his actual office.

"The new students for the year, Albus," she said briskly, brandishing a roll of parchment as she spoke.

"Ah, yes, I do believe I was expecting that list right about now," Albus answered, pushing aside the newspaper. The crossword was only half-finished, but it could wait. "Excellent. Do sit down, Minerva. I could draw you up a chair—"

"No need," she answered, and conjured a straight-backed wooden seat in front of his desk before sitting primly upon it.

"No cushion, Minerva?" Albus asked, a chuckle evident in his voice, though he rather thought it best to hold back an actual laugh so as not to offend her.

The brisk professor did not answer, but handed him the neatly written list.

"Thank you," he said, then gestured to the candy dish on his desk. "Would you like a lemon drop?"

"For the last time, Albus—" she started, but this time Dumbledore actually did chuckle.

"Very well, but perhaps you ought to consider delving into the world of sweets and finding a favorite for yourself sometime."

"Well—I am rather fond of ginger newts," she said stiffly, then motioned for him to look at the list again.

He did so, but not before saying, "Well, in celebration of that discovery, I do believe my new password for the term shall have to be 'ginger newt'."

Minerva rolled her eyes, but sat patiently.

Albus at last got down to reading through the list, and after a moment looked back up at her. "Well, that seems to all be in order. With such a wonderful deputy head, I expected no less. You will see that the owls are sent out later today?"

She nodded. "Of course, Albus."

He looked down the list again. "Another Weasley this year," he observed.

Minerva's mouth thinned noticeably. "I hope, for the sake of Argus' sanity, that this one does not show such an inclination for rule breaking as the twins have."

Albus resisted the urge to laugh long and heartily at the thought of all that Fred and George Weasley had got up to in the past two years. In the end, he just smiled and handed back the list. "Was there anything else?"

She nodded again, this time even more briskly, and tapped a name on the list. "We really ought to discuss this, Albus."

"Oh, I see. But I thought you approved of enrolling the boy, Minerva—"

"It's not that!" she answered sharply, and Albus noticed with some amusement that her nostrils flared slightly. "Of course I approve of enrolling the boy, his parents were some of the brightest this school has ever seen. It's just that, well, you can't just leave it at that, Albus! He'll be famous here, and he doesn't even know it yet. You said yourself nearly ten years ago that it would be enough to turn anyone's head. How would it not turn his head now?"

"Minerva, he may only be eleven, but he will be more able to face such a situation now than he would if some wizarding family had taken him in. I will readily admit that his head may yet be turned by the fact that every witch and wizard knows his name. However, as neither of us can see the future, we must wait until the boy arrives before passing judgment."

"But Albus—the paper this morning!"

The corners of Albus' mouth twitched. "Yes, I enjoyed the article on that new Wolfsbane potion, myself."

"Albus!"

He sighed, and reached up to stroke the handsome phoenix sitting on the edge of his desk. "I did read the story on the front page as well."

"And?" Minerva's eyebrows edged closer together as she looked at him.

"And I do not think that young Harry should ever see it, whatever may happen to him here. I have also had a word with Cornelius about discouraging any presence of the press here for the next few years."

The transfiguration professor's eyebrows rose slightly. "The press has never had much presence at Hogwarts, Albus."

Albus looked over his spectacles at her. "Given the article this morning, you surely realize that they have an increased interest in Hogwarts at the moment. Or at least, in one of its newest students. But I suspect it will pass within a fortnight."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Minerva, I'm sure another scandal is due to happen somewhere in the wizarding world within the next week or so." He smiled, and could have sworn that the corners of Minerva's mouth turned slightly upward.

"Well, I shall see that the owls are sent out. Filius and Pomona offered to take care of answering the muggle-borns' questions this year and showing them to Diagon Alley. Although, Hagrid volunteered to take care of delivering the letter to Harry Potter." Minerva looked as though she questioned the judgment of this.

Albus could quite envision the half-giant gamekeeper begging to be allowed the honor of delivering Harry Potter his school letter and taking him to Diagon Alley. Hagrid had, after all, been a great friend to Harry's parents, both during James and Lily's Hogwarts years and after. Albus cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure that won't be too much trouble to arrange. I'd better warn him that there might be some trouble getting to Harry, though. Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley are not kindly disposed towards magic."

"You had better warn Hagrid to take special care this time, Albus. After the mess with that other muggle-born—"

"There was no permanent damage, Minerva. Memory charms do work wonders, you know. But I do see your point, and I shall be sure to give Hagrid the proper amount of muggle money to get through the Underground without trouble this time."

Minerva nodded, got up, vanished her chair, and started towards the door, before hesitating and turning back. "I suppose," she said in a restrained voice, "that you have found another Defense teacher for this term."

Albus nodded pleasantly, opening his paper to the crossword again. "Yes, out of the two applicants, I thought Quirenius Quirrell would be the most suitable. He has some affairs to set in order, and then he will arrive here a week before the start of term."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Do I happen to know the other applicant?"

The headmaster shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "You might."

"Severus applied again, didn't he?" Minerva asked in an exasperated voice.

"Finally, Minerva, a direct question. Now, if you please, I'm expecting a call from Cornelius any moment. He had something else to discuss about young Harry."

Minerva nodded primly, then showed herself out.

Albus got up and walked over to look out at the grounds through the sunlit windows behind his desk. He sighed. There were so many complications with the idea of Harry Potter attending Hogwarts at last. He had barely managed to dissuade Cornelius from personally introducing himself to the boy and taking him school shopping. No, better that Hagrid do that. If Harry was anything like his father, or even his mother, the two would get on famously.

More worrying at the moment were the rumors that Sturgis Podmore had brought back from his trip to Albania. It appeared that there was some sort of dark magic in one of the larger forests that was getting restive. The ministry had dismissed it immediately, of course, as Pyrites had also been in Albania and had specifically said that he'd found no traces of Dark magic. Albus was having second thoughts. He couldn't be sure quite what it was as he hadn't been there, but he had his suspicions. He had always suspected that Lord Voldemort had not been completely finished off the night he underestimated little Harry Potter. However, he had hoped that whatever was left of the dark wizard would be too weak to trouble the wizarding world any further. There had certainly been no trace of Voldemort however hard the Ministry's team of aurors looked.

Fawkes crooned at him, perhaps scolding him for worrying, and flapped over to his shoulder, demanding (though of course with great dignity) to be stroked again.

Albus sighed, rubbing the bird's head absent-mindedly, still staring out of the window. Well, the wizarding world had enjoyed a nice break from dark magic, he supposed. Ever since that disasterous Halloween. There had obviously been the nasty clean-up work for about a year, but afterwards, the wizarding world had functioned for quite some time without so much as a hiccup as far as dark magic was concerned.

While he couldn't see the future, and was absolutely certain that he harbored no gift for Divination, Albus couldn't help feeling a vague worry when he thought about the coming year. Harry Potter coming back to the wizarding world at last . . . It was very exciting, but Albus knew from long experience that great good and great evil often arrive hand in hand. And then, of course, there was all this talk about how Harry Potter might have defeated the Dark Lord through a powerful dark magic of his own.

Fawkes gave a more insistent note, and Albus returned to his desk, only glancing at the story on the front page of his newspaper before turning back to the crossword.

When Albus Dumbledore looked up from his paper again, it was to see a head in the fireplace. However, it was not the Minister of Magic. Albus immediately got up from his ornate desk chair to crouch down by the hearth, smiling at the sight of his old friend.

"Good morning, Nicholas. Lovely weather we've been enjoying lately."

"Hullo, Albus. Thought any more about getting that hair cut?" The face of the young man in the fire grinned cheekily up at him.

"I have indeed thought about it, but you know very well that it always grows back, so—what's the point? But have you thought any more about perhaps allowing yourself to gain some wrinkles?"

The head in the fire tipped slightly to one side, as though to shrug, and Albus thought vaguely that the disadvantage to conversing through fire was that one could shrug and communicate absolutely nothing, as shoulders were not visible. "Perenelle likes me young and fit. And what can I say? I rather like her better young, too. No, we're both still very happy with the whole situation, as hard as you might find that to believe."

Dumbledore made a noncommittal noise, and the head in the fire raised its eyebrows.

"You know, the offer still stands, Albus. After all, we made the second stone together, so—"

"I prefer to let nature take its course, Nicholas."

The head gave what might have been another shrug. "Knew you'd say that. But you know, it's really rather rude of you not to give me an adequate way of thanking you. If you hadn't been there when the first stone was destroyed . . . "

"You wouldn't be here today," Albus finished. "But you know, I still don't see the appeal of immortality. Don't you ever get tired of the cares of the world?"

"Yeah, well, we ignore them for the most part. Get on with our lives . . . " The face grinned up at him again. "But anyway, on a related subject, I was calling for something else."

"Something else to do with a particular stone hidden in a certain Gringotts vault?"

"Er, yeah. Now, look. I know you don't set much store by rumors, but—"

"It depends upon the rumor, Nicholas."

"Right. Well, it's been a few short years since we had anything really nasty to deal with in the way of dark magic, hasn't it? And I can't help feeling . . . "

Albus smiled. It was always this way with Nicholas. He had to dance around the subject, aproaching it from just the right angle. "You think someone's after your stone, don't you? If you'll forgive me for saying so, you are rather paranoid about that little rock, Mr. Flamel."

Nicholas's voice was suddenly less carefree. "Look, Dumbledore, it's all very well for you to say nature should take its course, but given my age I'll probably drop down dead the minute I stop taking the Elixer. So yes, I'm paranoid."

"Naturally, Nicholas, naturally. But what evidence do you have that someone is after it?"

"Someone offered to buy it from me the other day."

"Yes, Nicholas, I believe there are a great many people who would offer to buy it if they knew you possessed it," Albus said, trying not to sound impatient.

"Yeah, but you weren't there. I know a veiled threat when I hear one."

Albus frowned at this. "Who was it exactly that offered to buy it?"

"That's what's worse. I never saw his face. He kept his hood well up, even though I invited him into the house, and we sat down to talk and everything."

"How rude," Albus said, trying not to smile at the indignance in his voice.

"Yeah, I thought so," Nicholas said seriously. "Anyway, very agitated when I refused. Wouldn't say anything when I asked where he got the information that I had it. Then, when he found out why I take the Elixer, he tried to get me to believe he would keep me supplied with it for the rest of eternity. As if."

"You know, Nicholas, sometimes I wonder at how quickly you adopt colloquialisms. You almost sound like some of my students."

"Collokie-whatsits? You're getting off topic, Dumbledore."

"And you're taking a long time in getting to the point, Flamel."

The head in the fire nodded. "Fair enough. Albus, I want you to keep the stone at Hogwarts. Just for safekeeping. I always did say your school was safer than any place on earth."

Albus hesitated. "I don't know, Nicholas . . . "

"Hey, you helped make it. Doesn't that mean you have partial responsibility to make sure it doesn't find its way into the wrong hands? I would protect it myself if I could, but the most I can do is leave it at Gringotts, and I just have a bad feeling about that right now."

Albus considered this for a long moment. Then he nodded gravely. "Very well, Nicholas. I will keep the stone here for a while, but not permanently. You have a year, and then you will have to find something else to do with it."

Nicholas broke into a large grin. "Excellent. I'll owl the goblins. Or pop into the Gringotts fire, or something. But I'll make sure they know you're to get it."

"I'll send Hagrid with a note to get it. He's taking care of another errand at the moment, and it will be easiest to do both things at once."

"Right. Well, I'll be in touch, Albus. Thanks again." And with those parting words, the head of Nicholas Flamel disappeared from Dumbledore's office fire.

Albus had hardly jotted down the next clue in the crossword when a second head appeared in the fire, clearing its throat to get Dumbledore's attention.

"Ah, good morning, Cornelius. How are you this fine day?" Albus asked, crouching down by the grate once more.

"Not bad, not bad," Fudge answered. "And yourself?"

"Never better. I was just thinking it would be an excellent day to take a swim in the lake. But I believe you had some further questions for me, Cornelius?"

"Yes. Well—" The rather pompous man seemed to hesitate. "It's just—are you quite certain that it wouldn't be best if I were to—"

"Cornelius, I do not think it would be wise for you to introduce yourself to Harry Potter. I'm sure you will eventually have the opportunity to meet him, but I would prefer to have one of my staff show him around Diagon Alley."

"Oh, very well," Fudge said irritably. Albus could tell he was quite put out, and had rather hoped to change his mind through this visit.

"About that story in the papers, Cornelius," Albus began in an offhand voice.

The head in the fire rolled its eyes. "Not you as well, Dumbledore. I've already had to tell about fifteen different people that I had nothing to do with it. I had no idea they were even thinking of putting out an article." He frowned. "I may have to keep a closer watch on the Prophet in the future, if this mess is anything to go by," he mused. "I've got a major debate on my hands, you know that, Albus? There are people who are convinced that he's a hero and should have a proper hero's welcome back into the wizarding world, people that think he's been well-versed in the Dark Arts since he was born and should be shunned. And then there are those few people who think he's not significant at all, because it all happened such a long time ago."

"Only time will tell, Cornelius," Albus said gravely.

Fudge sighed. "Yes, well, I can only hope that the best rumors prove true. I'd hate to think we have another budding Dark wizard on our hands."

"I can assure you I'll keep a close eye on him, Cornelius."

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you kept me informed, Albus. Well, about that latest trial for the Wizengamot . . . "

The interview did not last longer than ten minutes, and then Albus bid the Minister farewell and went back to his crossword. After solving it, he gazed out of the window again. Just one more month, and the boy would be here. Albus hoped Cornelius's—and everyone else's—optimism proved to be on target. Retrieving his pensieve, he listened once again to the prophecy that had led to his doubts of Voldemort's death. Yes, they could very well have another rising Dark Lord on their hands. But time would tell.