The Philosopher and the Stone
AN: Here we go, new story! I'm changing Nicholas Flamel's home to La Bourboule in France although I'm going to have Hermione's book still say Devon, England as an extra precaution that Flamel took. Foreign languages are in italics. For example, a person speaking English in France will be in italics and vice versa.
Ch. 1: Prolog
La Bourboule, France –
October 31, 1981-
La Bourboule is a relatively small muggle town situated next to a mountain range in France. It's known as a ski and spa resort. But what it's not known for is that it's home to one of the most legendary people in the world, know to both muggles and wizards; the oldest person in the world, Nicholas Flamel. He goes by the alias Augustin Prideaux, which the locals find hilarious because he and his wife Aurore live next to the river. Sometimes the locals hear muffled explosions from the old couple's home and every time she's asked, the old Mrs. Prideaux would just shake her head in exasperation and say that her curious husband just can't stop fiddling with things; sometimes resulting in explosions and that she will try to get him to keep it down. That brings us to the start of the story.
"Nicholas Flamel! How many times must I tell you to put up a silencing charm before preforming your experiments? It's only so long that they will accept the excuse of a crazy old man tinkering around, never mind the fact that it's true!" An old man looked up from his cauldron. His short white hair stuck up at odd angles and wore goggles that made his silver eyes comically huge. He blinked innocently at her.
"Now Perenelle, that is just too cruel." Perenelle rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows you're the crazy one." She was about to reply when a huge wave of magical energy washed over them. Perenelle's eyes narrowed.
"What was that?" Her husband slowly got up, taking off his goggles.
"Either something really bad happened or we will be having another, late, Mardi Gras party tomorrow." He shared a look with his wife. "Whatever it was, it was Dark." Suddenly the doorbell rang, breaking the tense atmosphere. Perenelle's eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth.
"Oh sweet Merlin! I forgot that the youngsters are still Trick-Or-Treating!" Nicholas laughed.
"Well now, it's best not to keep them waiting." As they left Nicholas looked out of his workshop window. "Why does it feel like we just stepped into the eye of the hurricane?"
The next day Nicholas woke up to an insistent tapping at the window. He cracked open one eye and groaned. It was an owl with two envelopes in its beak, one from their mail shifter and another from Albus Dumbledor. Flamel closed his eye and threw a pillow over his head.
"Love, would you be so kind as to get the mail?" An answering moan rose up beside him.
"I got it last time! It's your turn to deal with the bloody thing!" With that Perenelle kicked her husband out of the bed and went back to sleep. Picking himself off the floor Nicholas glared at his wife. Grumbling he threw open the window and grabbed the owl. A few moments later found the owl thrown back out the window with a small pouch of coins.
"Bloody bird! What happened to the sweet owl that knew better than to deliver our mail before twelve o'clock?" His wife stumbled out of bed and opened the letter from their shifter.
"She died. Nevertheless Nickolas, our shifter confirms that the letter is safe to read-!" Nicholas let out a cheer after reading the first page of Albus's letter.
"It has been done, love! It has been done! Voldemort has been defeated, and by a yearling no less!" His cheer was cut short after seeing the look in his wife's eyes. "Love? Is this not good news?" She glanced out the window, choosing her words carefully knowing how much faith her husband put in the man five centuries younger than them.
"Magic, through its very nature does not appear in a child until around their first decade. Even then it's only in extreme circumstances. What does the letter say about his parents? If he did defeat the so called Dark Lord he couldn't have done it alone." The alchemist nodded before scanning the letter, a frown coming over his face. "It doesn't say. All it says is that the boy, Harry, will be living with…" A look of realization came over his face. Perenelle nodded.
"No parent worth that honor would just stand by at let their child get killed." She conjured up two glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a bewitched chest. After pouring the wine she lifted her glass in toast. "To the unsung heroes, may you never be forgotton." Finishing he glass, Nickolas finished reading the letter, choking on his own spit in the process. "What is it?" He turned to his wife, wide eyed.
"He wants us to hide the Stone at Gringotts!"
_( 10 years later, give or take a few months…)_
Ten years have passed since Nicholas convinced his wife to agree to hide the Stone at Gingotts. That is where this story truly starts. Nicholas was inventing a potion when the cauldron blew up in his face! Smoke poured out of the room as Perenelle threw open the door.
"Nicholas? Nicholas! Are you alright love?"
"I'm alright but I must admit I did not think something like this would happen when I woke up this morning." That wasn't Flamel's voice, rather, it was but it sounded different. It sounded… younger! Perenelle's jaw dropped as the smoke cleared to reveal a child with a full head of short, spiky white hair and her husband's grey eyes. She waved her wand over his form.
"Whatever you did love, it's permanent." Then a steely look came to her eyes and she smirked. "This is perfect. Love, forgive me but I believe that we could use this to our advantage." Nicholas gulped. The next thing he knew he was getting a letter addressed to Nick Salamander saying that he had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
