November 2nd 1981 Harry was taken from the Dursley household with the blessing of the Horse and the Hippo – uh, sorry, Petunia and Vernon Dursley. "Keep that freakish boy and the rest of you freaks away from our normal family!" Vernon yelled, turning a shade of eggplant not normally seen in a healthy individual. Some of his breakfast, which had been stuck in his moustache that would've put a walrus to shame, ended up very close to Nicholas' face. Not liking the spittle in his face much, Nicholas tested out a new jinx on the extremely obese man. "Tuskem Walrusem!" he hollered, giving him a pair of walrus tusks to go with the bristly moustache. Vernon turned from eggplant to royal purple as he felt his canine teeth growing in length and diameter, forcing his mouth open and extending to about his breastbone until Albus removed them, apologizing profusely for his friend that really couldn't keep his temper, and not really meaning a word of it. "If that's normal, then I would hate to meet weird," growled Nicholas, not bothering until they were out of earshot, cradling a sleeping Harry against his chest. Albus snickered merrily, his blue eyes glimmering like stars.
0
A stone manor,
wreathed with sea-fog, stood on a cliff in Devon. The salty tang of
the sea air sucked into Nicholas' lungs as he Apparated to his
home with his great-great-grandson cradled in his arms.
"Welcome, Harry, to the
Hall-on-the-Sea, home of the Flamels."
A very old woman stood in the
archway leading to the old manor courtyard.
Though she wasn't
very tall, and actually quite short, she had an aura of power about
her that more than made up for it. Her hair was pure white, just
like Nicholas', but long, and pulled up into a bun. Stunning pale
blue eyes gazed from her wrinkled and aged countenance. She wore a
long, light blue azure robe, embroidered in bronze. A witch's hat,
with a raven feather stuck in the wide brim, crested her head.
A smile graced
her thin lips as she saw her husband and great–great-grandson, now
awake and squirming, approach on the garden path.
"Perenelle!"
Nicholas called to his wife, surprised to see her waiting for them.
Albus must have fire-called her, the
old alchemist thought, there's no other way
to get a message that fast.
"Nicholas! This is Harry?" her
voice was a light jingle, the syllables seeming to dance upon the
very air. Her French accent was barely noticeable, but it was enough
to change the pronunciation of her words subtly.
"Yes, this is Harry. Would you
like to hold him?" Nicholas' gravelly tones were the bass line
to her treble, a deep sound that seemed to roll as it came up from
the ocean's depths.
"Yes, I would. Give him here!"
she swept down from the terrace, picking up the little fifteen -
month old Harry. "Hello, Harry! I'm Granmama."
"Granmama." The little boy
repeated slowly, testing out the new word.
Perenelle pointed to Nicholas.
"That's Granddad. Can you say Hi, Granddad?" The old lady's
eyes would have been mistaken for stars, winking and twinkling, on a
dark evening.
"Hi, Granddad!" Harry said,
waving at Nicholas, a huge smile on his face, making his cheeks
dimple.
That grin must have
been infectious, judging from the way it spread from Harry's face
to the two adults'. Good god, he is too
cute for words. How he stays so happy, especially considering what
happened night–before–last, is beyond my reckoning. Nicholas
reflected.
"Well, you boys must be hungry.
Let's go inside and have some lunch." Perenelle beamed, happy to
see her 'grandson' so happy.
"Yay, food!" Harry hollered,
in high spirits at the thought of food and eating.
Albus fire-called the Flamels
that evening, after Harry had been put to bed. "Nicholas? I have
something you should hear."
"Yes, Albus?" the old
alchemist knelt down before the hearth, bushy white eyebrows drawn
together in a slight frown.
"I believed, up until a few
moments ago, that Sirius Black had been Secret-Keeper for the
Potters. However, I, as the executor of the Potters' will, saw
something that seemed out of place on that will: listed as the
Secret-Keeper was not the name Sirius Black, as I expected, but the
name Peter Pettigrew. That, as well as Sirius' testimony under
Veritaserum, was enough to get him declared not guilty of treason,
and thirteen counts of murder."
"Get to the point,
Albus; my knees are starting to hurt." Nicholas rumbled, his beard
and moustache twitching in annoyance and twinges of pain.
"Very well. Sirius, according to
the Potters' will, is Harry's legal guardian."
Silence resounded in
the lounge room, the firelight dancing upon the stone walls, the
firewood crackling in the hearth.
"What?"
Nicholas was floored. "He's my
great-great-grandson!"
"Yes, he is, but the guardian in
the wills comes first, by Ministry law. He will revert to your care
if, and only if, Sirius dies or is thrown into Azkaban." Albus
sounded worried.
Nicholas thought a moment on his
knowledge of Wizarding law. "What if I made Sirius Black a Flamel
by law and magic? That would make him related to me and Harry, and
allow him to live with us at Hall-on-the-Sea.
"We wouldn't
have to take care of Harry, not that we don't want to, but it's
really hard for two six-hundred-fifty-year-old people to care for a
baby.
"He could then
adopt Harry with the Wizarding Ministry, making Harry Potter change
into Harry Flamel Potter-Black, and Sirius Black be replaced with
Sirius Black-Flamel.
"The blood
wards would recognize him as a Flamel, related to Harry's mother,
so the blood protection would be extended to him! It's perfect!"
Nicholas' voice rose to an excited and hoarse roar.
"Ah, Nicholas, I'm right next
to you, no need to shout." Albus said cheerfully, not sounding
upset at all about being partially deafened. "But, I agree. Your
idea is perfect. I'll set up a time for you to meet with Sirius.
By the way, he really wants to see his godson, so bring Harry with
you."
Too excited to be
dampened by much of anything, much less the chance to spend more
time with Harry, Nicholas rapidly agreed. Albus left the Floo, and
Nicholas left to talk with Perenelle about this new development.
