Chapter 4: Alchemy and an Unpleasant Surprise
Life always takes interesting twists and turns, especially if your name is Harry Potter. Ever since the beginning of his life, when he first came out of that strange hollow tube that he would later learn was called a Uterus, Harry had an inkling that he was different.
This... was not an entirely accurate assessment (Harry may remember that far back, but he did not have mind developed enough to come up with such complex conclusions), but it got the point across. For as long as Harry could remember, which was a very long time considering he never forgot anything, he knew he was somehow different from everyone else. He could do things that shocked his parents, he could remember everything that had ever happened to him and the things he saw in his presence, magic came to him as easily as breathing, and things that would have never happened to someone else, happened to him.
Things like becoming the sudden apprentice of Nicolas Flamel, the famed alchemist who became world renown for his creation of the Philosopher's Stone.
"Alchemy is the ancient metaphysical science and mystical art of manipulating and altering matter using magic," Nicolas Flamel lectured as he paced back and forth in front of his newest pupil. And the first one he'd had since Albus Dumbledore. "Unlike Transfiguration, Alchemy is a permanent art. When you Transfigure something, the object only stays in it's transfigured state until the magic you have put into the object runs out. With Alchemy, any object whose structured you've altered will stay that way until you decide to alter it again. In this way, Alchemy is much more valuable than your standard magics."
When Harry had come home to find Nicolas Flamel sitting in his room, he had been shocked, a natural occurrence considering he had not expected anyone from the magical world to even find out where he lived. How had Flamel found him? How had he gotten past that strange energy field that had surrounded his house? Harry had asked Flamel these questions, but only got a frustrating answer in return: "That is for me to know, and you to discover on your own."
"The act of Manipulaing and altering matter is known as Transmutation."
Not the most forthcoming answer. Then again, it was just sort of answer he would expect from someone who was over six hundred years old. Anyone who had lived that long would become extremely eccentric. Harry was only eleven years old and a lot of people often told him he was eccentric. Apparently it was the mark of a genus... and old age. Flamel's eccentricity was probably tenfold because he was both a genius and old.
The man was ancient!
Oblivious to the thoughts of his apprentice, Nicolas Flamel continued his lecture on what had to be one of the most interesting subjects Harry had ever heard.
"There are three sequences that are very important when it comes to understanding how the act of transmutation works."
Flamel held one near his face. It was clenched into a fist until his index finger stuck into the air, pointing up and signifying his first point.
"Comprehension: Understanding the inherent structure and properties of the atomic or molecular makeup of a particular material to be transmuted, including the flow and balance of potential and kinetic energy within."
A second finger came up.
"Deconstruction: Using magic to break down the physical structure of the identified material into a more malleable state so as to be easily reshaped into a new form."
A third finger.
"And finally, Reconstruction: Continuing the flow of magic so as to reform the material into a new shape."
Wanting to make an impression on his young apprentice, Flamel stopped walking and turned to face the Potter heir. He clapped his hands once, then knelt down and pressed both hands against the ground.
A light blue line of arcane energies erupted around Flamel, surrounding him in a hazy field of light rays that blurred his image. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the magic in the surrounding air became supercharged. It felt almost like he was receiving the indirect feedback from someone else sticking their hands into a wire socket.
Garlands of magic arced around the center where Flamel's left hand was placed. Harry watched, his mouth beginning to drop as he saw the area where his new teacher had placed his hand began to crumble away.
No. not crumble away. It was beginning to form something new.
The stone floor around Flamel's hand was actually changing. It's entire structure formed into strange looking particles that were eerily reminiscent of sand. The stone sand, for lack of a better term, was all crawling towards the center above Flamel's hand, where it began forming something. The tip of an object, a cylindrical pommel, Harry realized.
More and more of the object soon became visible. It was definitely some kind of staff. The object was still being pulled out, it was already a good five feet long, yet all that was visible so far was the pole.
As the staff grew longer and longer, the crater around Flamel continued to grow larger. By the time the transmutation was finished, the crater surrounding the Alchemist was a perfect circle with a radius of exactly five feet. The stone flooring looked like it had been crumbling away and moving inwards towards the center of the crater.
As the staff Flamel was creating was finished, Harry came to the realization that the object was no staff.
It was a glaive. A European polearm weapon that consisted of a single edged blade on one end of the pole. Made out of the same gray colored granite as the floor beneath their feet, the glaive stood at exactly two meters in height.
Running along the glaive's shaft were intricate looking designs that reminded Harry of some of the small architectural carvings found running along the tops of Roman Columns. The blade itself was affixed to the pole using a socket-shaft configuration instead of having a tang like a blade or naginata, the Japanese equivalent to the glaive.
This particular blade shape sort of reminded Harry of a Dao, a Chinese sword mainly used for slashing and chopping. The edge had a moderate curve, before that curved steepened as it reached the end. Meanwhile, the back was perfectly straight, until it reached about a third away from the point, after which it made a round, ninety degree turn, then returned to a flat edge that reached the point where it met the blade. The only difference between a Dao and this sword, aside from the pole it was attached to, was the sharp, nasty looking hook on the back of the blade that Harry knew was for better catching horse riders.
Nicolas grabbed the shaft of the glaive in both hands and spun the weapon around expertly, showing that he actually knew how to use this polearm. And as he did, there was a grin of mild amusement on his face as he looked at Harry's jaw dropping expression.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Harry could do nothing more than give a dumb nod. "The proper application for this particular craft requires not only a full understanding of chemistry and ancient alchemical theory, but also an innate talent towards recognizing and manipulating the physical objects with magic, which requires uncommon levels of intelligence and aptitude. This is why so few ever learn more than the basic theories behind alchemy, and why there are so few alchemists in the world today."
"Is Dumbledore an alchemist?" asked Harry, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him as a means of drawing his mind away form his shock at seeing alchemy up close. Truly, this had to be one of the most incredible aspects of magic around. Just think of the possibilities!
"Yes and no," Nicolas twirled the glaive before setting it down pommel first on the stone floor and tapping it a few times as he grew contemplative. "Dumbledore certainly has the brains for it, but he never really had the drive to become a great alchemist. At most, he knows the basics. Enough to get by, but not enough to become great."
"Now then, one of the things you should know about Alchemy is that it's more than just changing one object into another by deconstructing and reconstructing something at it's base components. Alchemy is as much of a science as it is magic. There are certain laws and limitations in which we are subject to, all of which fall under the concept of Equivalent Exchange."
"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost," Harry recited dutifully. Flamel looked intrigued.
"So you know the laws of Equivalent Exchange?"
"Only the basics," Harry admitted. "That particular law is used in more than just alchemy. In a business you can't expect to make any money without putting an equal amount of time and effort into your business. In politics you can't convince people you're idea is the best without expending an equal amount of time and effort to claw your way to the top. Currency is exchanged in order to pay for something of equal value. Gold is traded for an equal amount of silver. In some ways, you could say that the entire world is run based upon the concept of Equivalent Exchange."
"True. Very true," Flamel rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked at his young apprentice. "However, Equivalent Exchange is very different when it comes to alchemy. There are multiple ways to bend or break this law in worldly matters, but alchemy is another thing entirely."
"In standard practice, Equivalent Exchange can be broken down into two laws. The Law of Conservation of Mass, which states that energy and matter can neither be created from nothing nor destroyed to the point of elemental nonexistence. In other words, to create an object weighing one kilogram, at least one kilogram of material is necessary and destroying an object weighing one kilogram would reduce it to a set of parts, the sum of which would weigh one kilogram. And the Law of Natural Providence, which states that an object or material made of a particular substance or element can only be transmuted into another object with the same basic makeup and properties of that initial material. In other words, an object or material made mostly of water can only be transmuted into another object with the attributes of water."
"What happens when someone tries to bypass either of these two laws?" asked Harry. The more he heard about Alchemy the more interested he became in it. This branch of magic sounded like it was right up his alley. A combination of mysticism and science? How perfectly matched can you get?
"Since the alchemical forces being manipulated are not human in origin, but of the world as a whole, the consequences for attempting to bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange in transmutation are not merely failure and cessation. When too much is attempted out of too little, what occurs is called a Rebound, in which the alchemical forces that are thrown out of balance on either side of the equation fluctuate wildly of their own accord in order to stabilize themselves - taking or giving more than was intended in often unpredictable and catastrophic ways such as accidental mutation, serious injury or death."
Harry found himself gulping as Nicolas Flamel gave him a stern look.
"That is why what you were doing with my Philosopher's Stone was so dangerous," the blond haired six hundred year old man said. "You were very lucky that the only ability you discovered was the one that created the Elixir of Life. Such knowledge might be more appealing to most people, but it is only a byproduct of the true power of the Stone."
"You mean it's ability to bypass the laws of Equivalent Exchange?" asked Harry. At hearing his answer, Flamel looked shocked, right before he began chuckling.
"I hadn't realized you knew what the Stone did."
"I didn't," Harry responded a tad dryly. "Not until this lecture, but I'm good at reading between the lines. By the Law of Natural Providence, it is impossible for silver or any other metal to be transmuted into gold because the chemical composition of gold is different from every other metal. Yet the Philosopher's Stone can do this, it can change any precious metal into gold, or so the legend goes. And if that is the case, then the very nature of the Stone is it's ability to allow the person using it to bypass the laws of Equivalent Exchange."
"Excellent!" Nicolas clapped his hands in a manner that was slightly congratulatory and yet mocking at the same time. Harry would not admit how that kind of bothered him. It was like the man was a constant cynic. "I'm pleased to see my apprentice isn't an idiot. Perhaps you will be able to go far in this field, unlike Dumbledore who never really took the time to truly learn the subtle science of Alchemy."
"Albus Dumbledore always struck me as a more philosophical type than a scientist type," Harry said, shrugging. "Whenever I spoke with the man he was always making obscure mentions to philosophy and morality." He tilted his head. "I think the only time he ever gave me a straight up answer was when he told me about the magic he used to hide the Philosopher's Stone inside the Mirror of Erisad."
"That's Dumbledore for you," Flamel nodded. "The man has always been a bit... off, even when he was nothing more than a young brat of eighty-two learning the ways of alchemy from myself. Such is often the mark of a genus. Even you have your odd little personality quirks, from what I have seen."
Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. He disliked it when he had to admit to his own personality flaws, he did not want this man or anyone else pointing them out to him.
"Now then," Flamel clapped his hands together once. "I do believe we are done for today. Not bad for a first lesson, if I do say so myself. We've actually gone much father into my lecture than I thought we would. Now, off you go," the old alchemist made a shooing gesture with his left hand, "I must get this cleaned up before Penny comes home." He grimaced. "I do not want this crater to be here when she returns. That woman is a spit fire. You remember how to get to that room I showed you when you first came here?"
"Of course," Harry felt like huffing at the man questioning his ability to remember something. He didn't only because this man did not know he actually had eidetic memory, thus could not know that he remembered everything.
"And you remember how many turns you need?"
"One full rotation for every four hours," Harry recited dutifully. "Since only two hours have passed, I only need to make a half turn."
"Good, I am pleased to know you can listen."
Harry's eye twitched a bit, unsure if he had just been complimented or insulted. It was very hard to tell with this man. Still, he managed to give his new teacher a respectful bow to show his appreciation of the knowledge he was being imparted. "Thank you for the lesson."
"Of course, of course." As Nicolas Flamel waved him off absently, eyes still focused on the ground beneath his feet. As he muttered something about not wanting to sleep on the couch, Harry made his way out of the room.
The Flamel Mansion was one of splendor and elegance, with it's sweeping hallways containing arched ceilings that were decorated various Renaissance style carvings, the gothic looking columns that lined the walls, and it's double-helix staircase. There were many paintings of various landscapes, non magical paintings that looked like original works of painters from the fifteenth and sixteenth century.
It was not very big, a three story mansion with a grand total of thirty-five rooms and a very large basement where Flamel conducted his alchemy experiments, but it was certainly one of the most beautiful places Harry had ever visited. It sort of reminded him of the images he had seen of Château de Chambord, one of the most recognizable châteaux in the world that managed blend traditional French Medieval forms with classical Renaissance structures.
As Harry walked up the double-helix staircase from the basement he had been in with Flamel, he thought through the lesson he had been imparted by the man.
He was very pleased with how this first lesson had gone. While he had not learned how to perform alchemy, Nicolas Flamel's lessons were far more comprehensive than any of the books he had managed to get his hands on. In fact, Harry wished he could forget what was written in those books since it was obvious none of those people were very good alchemists. They hadn't even gone into the laws of Equivalent Exchange!
Everything written in those books had been based around abstract theory and mysticism. The people who wrote them obviously had only a basic understanding of alchemy, enough to get by, but not much else.
So into his thoughts on his lessons with Nicolas Flamel was he that Harry did not even feel the presence near him until said presence spoke in a lilting french accent.
"Oh good, you are still 'ere. I was 'oping to catch you before you left."
Harry blinked, then turned his head. Standing before him was a woman whose beauty few could ever hope to match. Her hair was a long, silvery blond that curved down her scalp like a gently cascading waterfall. That hair framed a face that looked like it had been crafted by the hands of a thousand angels in an effort to show the mortals of this world what perfection looked like.
Wide, almond shaped blue eyes were set on either side of a small, attractive nose, and below that were a pair of full, ruby red cupid bow lips. Her face was soft and complimented her creamy white skin perfectly. Harry, with his constant need to observe and catalog everything he had seen and commit it to memory, noted that Perenelle Flamel's face was perfectly symmetrical, with not a single flaw to be seen.
Even Harry, who had never thought of females with any romantic connotations, could recognize this woman's beauty for what it was. According to a dissertation he had once read on male instincts and their desire to find suitable mates, Perenelle Flamel was the kind of woman any man would drop their significant other for if they had they thought they had a chance with her. She had all of the physical qualities listed as to what physical feature's men find attractive in women.
Like when they first met, Perenelle was wearing very expensive designers clothing. Situated on her torso was a white silk sleeveless blouse featuring a high neckline with an off centre self tie bow fastening, a contrasting black micro polka dot print, a tall keyhole cut to the front and a straight cut hem. The blouse showed off both her slender arms and full-bodied figure in a way that would have men turning their heads fast enough to snap their own necks.
A black wool mini skirt with a waistband with belt loops, button fastening rear pockets and a concealed side zip fastening did very little to cover her long legs as they stretched around her firm, shapely rear, allowing for her exceptionally healthy thighs and calves to be seen by any hypothetical witnesses. Her outfit ended with a pair of black leather sandals that featured an open toe, a panel strap across the foot, a thick strap around the ankle with a buckle fastening, a silver tone and black stripe print and a flat sole.
Harry recognized the clothing as designer clothes from Yves Saint Laurent, one of the most famous French fashion designers in the world, and one of the most expensive as well. Just looking at the outfit Perenelle was wearing, Harry could tell each separate article could likely cover the cost of his entire wardrobe.
He wondered if it was wrong of him to feel envious that she was wearing such expensive and fashionable clothes? Those clothes practically screamed wealth and good taste.
Thankfully, his observations only lasted for a second. Quick enough that he was able to recover himself that Perenelle only took minor amusement in his observing of her.
"Good day, Madame Perenelle," Harry spoke, bowing before the woman. He then looked up and tilted his head. "What did you want to speak with me about?"
"Your clothes," Perenelle said, sniffing at his form fitting jeans and dark green T-shirt in distaste. "zey simply will not do. We must get you some more befitting to your status."
"What's wrong with my clothes?" Harry frowned. Sure, his clothes weren't Yves Saint Laurent, but they weren't bad either.
"Nozing, if you wish to look like a commoner," Perenelle answered as she walked over to him, grabbed his arm in a deceptively powerful grip, and began hauling him away from his previous destination. "'owever, if you wish to maintain ze appearance of a powerful figure and the 'eir to a Most Ancient and Noble 'ouse, you will need better clothing more befitting of your status. Plus you are now my 'usbands apprentice," she added almost as an after thought, "and I will not have ze apprentice of my husband looking like some plebian."
"Don't worry zough," Perenelle reassured him in a tone that did nothing to reassure. "I won't 'ave you burn your commoner clothes or anyzing. It iz good to be able to fit in with the plebians when you wish to mingle with ze common people."
XoX
It was several hours later (for Harry at least) that the young Potter Heir found himself standing in front of Lisa's home, waiting for his best friend or her mother to answer the door. He had just spent the last several hours with Perenelle at FBG Saint-Honoré Homme Store in Paris trying on several dozen different outfits for the Nicolas Flamel's fairer half. Harry would never admit this to anyone, but he really had enjoyed his time with the gorgeous woman. It was nice to find someone who understood how proper fashion could be used to better ones image and increase ones reputation.
The door soon opened and, not to Harry's surprise, Lisa was the one who was standing behind it. The girl had a bright smile on her face as she greeted him.
"Watcher, Harry! How are... ohmygod! Are those Yves Saint Laurent!?"
"Ah..."
Harry squirmed a bit uncomfortably as he saw Lisa's eyes narrow. He looked down at himself. Having bought several sets of expensive shirts, pants, shorts, and shoes all on Perenelle's 'suggestion', he had decided that he really, really, wanted to wear some of them. It would have been a shame to let them just sit in his closet until he he found a time when wearing them would be appropriate.
Currently, he was wearing a white cotton t-shirt with a crew neck, short sleeves and a contrasting black logo and Basilisk print to the front; a pair of blue cotton jeans featuring a concealed front fastening, a silver-tone button fly, belt loops to the waist, contrast riveting, a classic five pocket design and a straight leg; and black calfskin trainers that had a round toe, a front lace fastening, a studded side stripe detail, a branded tongue and a rubber sole. In short, nothing he was wearing was below five hundred pounds.
"Yes?"
Lisa's eyes narrowed even further, causing Harry to almost take a step back. He didn't, mainly because his best friend had grabbed a hold of his arm and was currently holding onto it very tightly. Who knew she had such a strong grip?
"And just how did you manage to find the money to buy such expensive clothing?"
They had actually been a gift. Once he and his chaperone-slash fashion consultant otherwise known as the wife of Nicolas Flamel had finished determining which clothes he would be getting, he had been about to pay for them using his muggle credit card. It would have put him back quite a bit, especially since most of his money in his account at HSBC Holdings since most of his money was going into several profitable ventures that would hopefully earn him more money.
That was when Perenelle had paid for his clothes. He had been about to try and stop her. As much as it would have set him back, Harry hated feeling indebted to people, and buying several thousand pounds worth of clothes would have definitely indebted him to Perenelle.
One surprisingly frightening glare later and Harry was the owner of nearly ten thousand pounds worth of Yves Saint Laurent clothing after Perenelle finished paying for it.
On a side note, Harry did not want to be subject to that glare again. It made him truly understand why Nicolas Flamel had been so set on fixing up his floor before his wife returned. If that was the glare he got for doing something his wife would not approve of, Harry could sympathize.
And he supposed it wasn't all bad. Sure, he had just allowed someone to buy him clothing that was so expensive not even the Malfoys would spend that much money on them... or maybe they would, knowing them, but it wasn't like Perenelle was strapped for cash. She did have a Philosopher's Stone after all. She could just get her husband to turn pewter into gold and sell it in large ingots for an exorbitant price.
Of course, he could not tell Lisa that. Better think up something quick.
"Uh..."
Harry found his brains short circuiting as he tried to come up with a suitable excuse as to why he was wearing expensive clothing he had clearly not possessed yesterday. Really, he probably should have thought things through more when he decided to wear his new clothes.
"Um... my parents left me a lot of money, remember?" It wasn't the best excuse he had ever come up with, but at least the statement was true. Why was it so much harder to lie to this girl than it was to lie to an adult? "I just... I thought it would be nice if I had some, well, some nice clothes. You know?"
Harry began to get increasingly nervous as Lisa continued to stare at him, her expression surprisingly blank. Just where had she learned to stare down someone like that anyways?
"You," she determined after an intermittent amount of time, her grip tightening on his arm as she gave him a chilling smile. "Are you going to take me shopping."
Yes, he definitely had not thought everything through when he had decided to wear these clothes.
He could already feel his wallet getting lighter.
XoX
Alchemy was a lot harder than Harry thought it would be. No. That wasn't quite accurate. Harry knew that alchemy would be hard from just listening to Nicolas Flamel's lectures. He just hadn't realized how hard it truly was.
Some things about alchemy were easier than others. For example, Harry had already memorized all of the laws and rules that went into transmutation. He also had the entire periodic table already memorized and could recite the chemicals listed in it, their atomic number, electron configuration, and the recurring chemical properties found within each one.
However, merely understanding the sequence of transmutation and the limitations of Equivalent Exchange was not enough. Just as the processes of "Comprehension, Deconstruction, Reconstruction" and "In order to gain, something of equal value must be lost in return" are cyclical concepts, and the periodic table is simply knowledge, the foundation upon which alchemy was built are none of those. They are simply the laws by which alchemy must abide by.
The real difficulty with alchemical transmutation lay in the creation of symbols known as a Transmutation Circle. A Transmutation Circle could either be drawn on the spot when a transmutation is necessary (in chalk, pencil, ink, paint, blood or even traced in dirt) or permanently etched or inscribed beforehand, but without it, transmutation is generally impossible and all Transmutation Circles are made up of two parts:
The circle itself was a conduit which focused and dictated the flow of magic, allowing an Alchemist to distribute their magic and the matter they wanted to transmute in order to create a transmutation. It represented the cyclical flow of the bodies magical core and turned that power to manipulable ends.
Inside the circle were specific alchemical runes. These runes could vary widely based on ancient alchemical studies, texts and experimentation, but corresponded to a different form of energy, allowing the energy that was focused within the circle to be released in the way most conducive to the alchemist's desired effect. In basic alchemy, these runes would often take the form of triangles (which, when positioned differently, can represent the elements of either water, earth, fire or air), but would often be composed of varying polygons built from different triangles.
For example: the hexagram is a commonly used base rune in Transmutation Circles because it created eight multi-directional triangles when inscribed and can therefore represent all four classical elements at once. Other, more esoteric runes (including astrological symbols, symbolic images and varying lines of text) are prevalent and represent a multitude of other, specific functions for the alchemical energy that was released.
It was incredibly difficult, learning and experimenting with all of the complex and varying differences that can make up a Transmutation Circle. Harry had already made a number of failed attempts at creating a basic alchemical circle.
The reason for this was because Nicolas Flamel would not let him copy the work of others. He wanted Harry's Transmutation Circle to be completely original, using only ideas and concepts from other people's work in his own.
Of course, this was only because there were only so many ideas that could be used when creating what amounted to a basic Transmutation Circle. There were only so many circles that could be created to transmute a specific material.
Flamel had given Harry the knowledge on how to create a Transmutation Circle, but that was all. Now he wanted Harry to put that knowledge to good use under his guidance. He would not help Harry, merely observe and make sure the boy didn't blow himself up.
So far, the only Transmutation Circle Harry had been able to create that was up to par and original was a circle that transmuted wood into a wooden figurine of a bird. A Japanese Wagtail to be precise. The circle itself was basically a large circle with a smaller circle inside of it with a five centimeter radial difference exactly, a square that touched the outer circle, followed by a another square that ran perpendicular to the larger square and touched the smaller circle on four opposite points.
It was the first Transmutation Circle he had managed to complete that actually worked. It had taken him sixteen attempts to make it, something that Flamel had actually told him was beyond admirable as far as his progress was concerned, but bothered Harry, who felt he should have been able to create it in less time and with less failures.
Which was why he was still sitting at the table inside of Nicolas Flamel's alchemy lab, working on another Transmutation Circle. So far the only alchemy he had been able to accomplish was one that transmuted by way of the Four Classical Elements (Water, Earth, Fire, and Air). The wood he had used for his bird transmutation had been Red Maple, which contained 21.2% lignin, 17.1 Celullose, 2.8% Extractives, and 5.2% Ash. It was an Earth based element, though it had traces of water in it due to the moisture often retained in wood. That was why the Transmutation Circle had been so simple to create, and just simple in general.
This time, Harry was going to try a different Transmutation. He wanted to use the Three Essential Principles of alchemy (Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury) instead.
Salt would be the easiest. It was a simple compound containing sodium chloride, NaCI, and water, H2O, which was formed by neutralizing sodium hydroxide, NaHO, a base chemical, with hydrogen chloride, HCI, and acid: Hcl+NaOH→NaCl+H2O. It was a simple empirical formula for ionic salt. The only issue would be discover how much of these chemicals salt contained in order to know the quantity he was transmuting, and that was a relatively easy issue to solve as salt was an ionic compound that had an equal number of sodium and chlorine atoms. All he had to do was create the formula needed to discover the amount of each chemical contained within a gram of salt, which he had already done.
But while salt may be the easiest of the Three Essential Principles to transmute, it was not the one Harry wanted to do. He needed to challenge himself, to push his mind beyond it's boundaries so that he could exceed his own limitations. That was why he wanted to use Mercury for his transmutation.
Mercury was a chemical element with the symbol Hg and an atomic number of 80. It was commonly known as quicksilver, due to it's silvery liquid form. It was also formerly known as hydragyrum, a Greek word that combined "Hydr" for water and "agryrum" for silver.
It was also the most difficult of the Three Principles to transmute.
There were two oxadized states in which Mercury can exist, which have been unoriginally dubbed state I and II by scientists.
Different from its lighter neighbors, cadmium and zinc, mercury formed simple stable compounds with metal-metal bonds. The mercury(I) compounds were diamagnetic and feature the dimeric cation, Hg2+2. Stable derivatives included the chloride and nitrate. Treatment of Hg(I) compounds complexation with strong ligands such as sulfide, cyanide, etc. induced disproportionation to Hg2+ and elemental mercury. Mercury(I) chloride, a colorless solid also known as calomel, was really the compound with the formula Hg2Cl2, with the connectivity Cl-Hg-Hg-Cl. It was a standard in electrochemistry that reacted with chlorine to give mercuric chloride, which could resist further oxidation.
Indicative of its tendency to bond to itself, mercury forms mercury polycations, which consisted of linear chains of mercury centers, capped with a positive charge. One example is Hg2+3(AsF−6)2.
Mercury(II) was the most common oxidation state and was the main one in nature as well. All four mercuric halides are known. They formed tetrahedral complexes with other ligands but the halides adopt linear coordination geometry, somewhat like Ag+ did. Best known ismercury(II) chloride, an easily sublimating white solid. HgCl2 forms coordination complexes that are typically tetrahedral, e.g. HgCl2−4.
Mercury(II) oxide, the main oxide of mercury, arises when the metal is exposed to air for long periods at elevated temperatures. It will revert to the elements upon heating near 400 °C, as was demonstrated by Priestly in an early synthesis of pure of mercury are poorly characterized, as they are for its neighbors gold and silver.
Being a soft metal, mercury forms very stable derivatives with the heavier chalcogens. Preeminent is mercury(II) sulfide, HgS, which occurs in nature as the ore cinnabar and is the brilliant pigment vermillion. Like ZnS, HgS crystallizes in two forms, the reddish cubic form and the black zinc blende form. Mercury(II) selenide (HgSe) and mercury(II) telluride (HgTe) are also known, these as well as various derivatives, e.g. mercury cadmium telluride and mercury zinc telluride being semiconductors useful as infrared detectormaterials.
Mercury(II) salts form a variety of complex derivatives with ammonia. These included Millon's base (Hg2N+), the one-dimensional polymer (salts of HgNH+2)n), and "fusible white precipitate" or [Hg(NH3)2]Cl2. Known as Nessler's reagent, potassium tetraiodomercurate(II)(HgI2−4) was still occasionally used to test for ammonia owing to its tendency to form the deeply colored iodide salt of Millon's base.
Harry was going to use Mercury II for his transmutation, as it was the most common and natural state for Mercury to be in. Using Mercury I would be too dangerous at his knowledge level right now. While he wanted a challenge, he had no desire to go near the other oxidized state at his current level. He was looking for a way to push his minds limits and break them, not commit suicide.
"You really should get out of ze 'ouse and get some fresh air. Staying cooped up in zis room isn't 'ealthy for a vibrant young man like yourself."
Harry blinked, his mind wakening from it's haze of formulaic equations. He turned his head and looked up to see Flamel's other half staring at him with a small frown on her gorgeous face and her arms crossed under her chest.
"Can't," Harry said, shaking his head. "I need to finish this transmutation circle before the end of the day."
Perenelle Flamel raised a single, delicate eyebrow.
"Need to? Or want to?"
"What's the difference?" asked Harry. "Need and want are dependent upon the realities of the people using those terms and hold no real meaning in the grand scheme of things. Do I want to finish this transmutation circle by the end of the day? Yes. Do I need to finish it? Probably not, but I will never be satisfied if I don't, thus, I do need to finish it for the sake of my own peace of mind."
"I don't want to hear your philosophical speak right now," Perenelle's arms went from crossed under her breasts to cocked at a ninety degree angle on either side of her body as she placed her fists on her hips. "You 'ave been in here for six hours doing nozing more zan staring at ze wall. Clearly, your mind is exhausted and needs a break."
"Thank you for the concern, but I am fine," Harry said. He was determined to finish this transmutation circle today come hell or high water.
However, while he may have been prepared for Armageddon to come, he was obviously not prepared for an angry Perenelle. The woman fixed him with a scowl so fierce were Harry not sitting he would have taken a step back (or run away screaming). As it was, he tilted back in his chair to get as far away from the woman as possible.
Was it just him, or was the temperature beginning to get warmer.
And were those feathers sprouting from her neck?
"'arry James Potter, you will leave this room right now, 'ead down to Paris and see the sights, or so help me I will burn you to cinders!"
If it weren't such a terrifying sight, Harry would have been amused by the woman's mothering. Any amusement he might have felt though, disappeared in the face of the woman's whose features seemed to grow sharper and more angular by the second. Her eyes were blazing flames of blue fire that struck feelings of an unknown fear in his heart and caused his mind to conjure up horrible images of his own body being burnt to ashes.
Needless to say, Harry couldn't agree fast enough.
He also couldn't leave the room fast enough.
Damn, that woman was terrifying! She would give Voldemort a run for his money!
"Apprentice?" Harry looked up from where he was standing bent over and using his hands on his knees as support while he tried to regain his breath after running from the alchemy lab to see Flamel staring at him curiously. For some reason, the man had taken to calling him apprentice ever since their first meeting. Not Harry, not Potter, not even Harry Potter. Just apprentice. It was kind of annoying, but Harry put up with it for the sake of learning. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left hours ago."
"Ah... no..." Harry mumbled, trying to regain his breath after it had left him in the face of such a horrifying sight. Truly, that Perenelle Flamel was the fiercest woman he had ever met, and considering he had met Professor McGonagall that's saying something. "I stayed behind after you left. I wanted to finish that transmutation circle I was working on."
"I see, I see," Flamel nodded his head in a sagely manner that did not go with his twenty-something year old looks. "It is good to see such dedication. Did you finish your circle?"
"No."
Flamel blinked.
"Then what are you doing in here?" he asked, frowning sternly at the young man as he prepared a lecture. "You should still be in the lab working. Transmutation is a process that requires constant work and dedication. You cannot just skimp out on your work whenever you feel like it."
"I ran into your wife," Harry said dryly. "Or, to be more precise, she ran into me."
Flamel paused at that, before nodding his head and adopting a 'sagely' look again.
"Now I understand," he said, patting Harry's shoulder in sympathy. "She does the same thing to me when I get caught up in my work. Let me give you some advice. Women are like cats. Not those small, domestic house cats, but those big, vicious lions you see in the Sahara. So long as you do what they say, you're fine, but if you don't, They'll eat you alive."
"Oh, iz zat what I am now?"
Harry and Flamel froze as a beautiful, sickly sweet voice entered their ears. It was easily the most frightening sound either of them had ever heard.
As one, the pair woodenly turned their heads to see Perenelle standing in the hallway with an irate look on her face as she glared at her husband. If looks could kill, Flamel would have combusted into flames long ago.
On a side note, Harry noticed that she was definitely sprouting feathers around her neck.
"A-ah, h-hello, dear," Flamel stuttered out as the woman took a step towards them. He and Harry took a step back. "How was your day?"
"My day was just fine," Perenelle smiled a truly unpleasantly pleasant smile as she stalked towards them, her grace as she moved making her look like some kind of bird of prey. "I got up and made love to my 'usband (Harry gagged. He did not need to know that!), I went out and did some shopping, managed to convince your apprentice to relax, and zen got called an overgrown feline by my 'usband. Why, zis day has been positively glorious."
"Now, Penny," Flamel held his hands up in a defensive fashion. "I was only trying to impart some of my wisdom on the fairer sex to young Harry here."
"Zen you should 'ave kept your mouth shut," Perenelle said, hiking up the sleeves to her white, long sleeved shirt. "'arry, why don't you 'ead into Paris for a while before using ze time turner and heading back home. The nightlife in Paris iz absolutely to die for."
"Of course," Harry muttered, scrambling away as quickly as he could. There was absolutely no way he was staying anywhere near that woman when she was angry.
He could hear Flamel pleading with him to stay, demanding he take his punishment with his master, but even he knew better than to get in the way of an angry wife. Soon enough, the pleading of his teacher turned into screams of pain, causing thousands of horrible images of what may have been happening behind him to appear in Harry's mind.
Sorry Flamel, but it was the duty of a Master to protect the apprentice, not the other way around.
XoX
When Perenelle Flamel said that the nightlife in Paris was 'to die for' Harry was pretty sure she forgot he was only eleven years old. Even though he would be twelve in just a little over a month, that made very little difference in the grand scheme of things.
The truth was, the night of Paris really did seem quite lively. Harry could see a number of bars and clubs where young adults were enjoying themselves dancing and drinking. Everyone looked like they were having a blast from what he had seen through his view in the windows of various bars, clubs and pubs. Unfortunately, even if Harry were disinclined to take part in the partying, he wouldn't be able to.
Still, Harry had to admit now that he was out of the Flamel's small mansion his mind felt a lot more clear. Maybe it was the cool night air? The breeze definitely felt soothing against his scalp as it ruffled his hair.
Harry found himself walking down Boulevard de Clichy, where the Moulin Rouge was located. The Moulin Rouge, a famous cabaret known for their "can-can" dancers. The house had been co-founded by Charles Zidler and Joseph Oller in 1889. It might not have been a national landmark like the Louvre or the Arc de Triomphe, but it was a place that had quite a bit of history behind it.
The Moulin Rouge was easily distinguished from the rest of the buildings by the large windmill. Of course, it wasn't really a windmill, just a large red cylinder with a traditional pointed roof, classic pentagon framed stained windows with diamond shaped windows above it and four large, glowing, neon red sails set into the top of a rectangular building. To the left was more neon red lighting that curved around a half circle built above the entrance with the name of the building on it, and on the right side of the entrance were large posters featuring the routine that would be showing that night like large billboards.
For a moment, Harry thought about catching a show. He had read what kinds of shows there were in the history books, but reading about something and seeing it in person were always two completely different things.
True, he was not of age, but that mattered very little when you were a wizard. Harry had been getting a bit better at the mind arts, using random non magical beings and a few witches and wizards he saw whenever he went to Diagon Alley to practice his Legillimency.
He didn't think he was that good, as most people didn't even bother shielding their thoughts, but he was positive he could use some basic Legillimency to confund people into thinking he was older than he really was. It shouldn't be too hard.
On the other hand, he wasn't really one for breaking the law without their being some kind of benefit towards him. And satisfying his curiosity was not a large enough benefit for him to risk it.
Besides, he didn't want to have to confund everyone in the building. That would just be a pain.
So Harry left after admiring the bright structure for a few moments, deciding to take a quick shortcut down an alley so he could reach the next street and continue his walk.
It was while walking down that alley, however, that Harry's nose picked up something that immediately had him on alert.
Ever since he had become an animagus, one of the many things he had noted were his increased senses. His eyes could now see in the dark, his hearing was far sharper than it had ever been, and his nose was capable of picking up scents from a little over fifty meters away. Even when he was not in his Jaguar animagus form, his three senses were still much better than those of a humans.
And right now the tang of copper was on the wind. Blood. That was what he smelled.
Taking a few sniffs of the air around him, Harry pinpointed the general direction of the scent and quickly made his way towards it. His animalistic and predatory grace ensured that his steps were silent even as he increased the speed of his stride. Before too long, he discovered where the source of the blood was coming from. A second story window to a cheap motel was open, the coppery scent of blood wafting along the breeze came from there.
Harry took a deep breath, then blew it out as he opened a crack in the barrier containing his magic. The flow was directed towards his body, more specifically his limbs and core, strengthening them to the levels of an Olympic athlete.
His limbs reinforced with magic, Harry ran towards the building and then jumped.
The jump easily carried him a meter into the air. Harry's left hand shot out and caught onto a small ledge that was sticking out from underneath the window. The muscles in his arm tensed, then, with a powerful heave, Harry flipped himself over, his body contorting in ways that would make a gynmast green with envy as his feet landed on the ledge.
The ledge was very small, Harry noted quickly as his feet began to slip off due to their not being enough room to contain him. At most, he would say the ledge was only an inch or so long, and with only his heels being able to find purchase, it would not be long before he fell.
Utilizing one of the other powers granted to him as a natural animagus, Harry shifted his fingernails into sharp claws, which he dug into the grout in between the bricks of the building. Moving carefully, Harry soon found his way to the edge of the window, where his enhanced hearing easily picked up the voices in the room.
"È morta."
Harry blinked. That was Italian. His Italian was nowhere near as good as his French, but he had at least studied it enough that he could understand it fluently even if he still had trouble speaking it.
He made a mental note to find someone who could help him finish learning Italian. There was only so much he could learn from books.
"Come fai a dirlo?"
"Non sento il battito.."
"Non aveva un battito dall'inizio, idiota. È un abominio, ricordatelo."
"Oh, è vero."
Harry frowned. He could understand the gist of what they were saying, but there was so many holes in their dialogue that he was sure he was missing something.
"Sai, per essere un abominio non è poi così male."
The sound of something unzipping? Reached Harry's ears. Yes, that was the unmistakable sound of something being unzipped.
"Cosa diavolo vorresti fare?"
"Che c'è? Non scopo da mesi. E comunque non si lamenterà."
"Soddisferesti i tuoi impulsi bestiali scopandoti un'abominio!? Lurido maiale."
"Non stare a guardare allora. Vai ad aspettare fuori in corridoio come un piccolo idiota."
There was some more swearing and insults spewing from the other man, but Harry was no longer listening.
These... these sick monsters had just killed someone, some girl, and now one of them was going to desecrate her? Harry would freely admit that his moral compass was slightly skewed by his own ideals and desires, but he would never, in a million years even think about doing what this sick... sick... bastard was about to do now!
Without even thinking about the situation, Harry reacted, his body moving long before his mind began working.
He spun himself around, grabbing onto the windowsill and swinging himself into the room. As he rolled across the floor and sprung back to his feet, his eyes easily cataloged everything that was happening within the room.
There were two men. Both had a darker skin tone than people traditionally found in France, and their facial structures were different as well. They were of Italian descent, obviously. One of them was near the door, looking like he was about to leave. The other was standing over a pale looking girl lying on the bed with her arms extended to her sides in a sick parody of a cross with a shirt that was torn open, exposing much of her skin and bra, and had her pants off to reveal white lace panties.
The man who was standing over her had his pants and briefs down around his ankles and his hands on her knickers and it was very clear to Harry what he was going to do.
Harry would not give him the chance.
Before the man could even react to his presence, Harry was already charging him. The man's head snapped over in his direction, his eyes widening in shock and then fear as Harry's hand changed into a paw with sharp claws.
Stumbling backwards, the man tried to move away from him, but his pants caught around his ankles and he began to fall. As he fell, Harry swiped at the man's throat, carving four deep gouges into his esophagus, trachea and vocal chords. The man's eyes widened in unfathomable pain, his mouth opening to release a yell that was reduced to mere gurgling as his vocal chords had been cut and blood welled up in his throat.
The Italian man hit the ground with a thud, his lifeblood spilling out of his throat and his eyes dulling as he bled to death.
"diavolo!" The other man shouted as he pulled out a gun, a pistol of some sort. Harry did not recognize the gun. He had never cared for such weapons, thus he had never bothered to study up on them beyond how they were used in various wars throughout recent history. All he cared about was that it was pointed at him.
As quickly as he could, Harry moved, twisting his body slightly to the left and forward just as the loud cracking of thunder rang out from the weapon.
Less than two seconds later the Italian man was lying dead on the ground, his face torn apart where Harry's pawed hand had ripped the flesh and muscles off.
Harry hissed in pain as he pressed his now normal hand to his bleeding shoulder. He had not been fast enough to avoid getting shot. Thankfully, it didn't really hurt that much. Compared to what he had already suffered through last year, a bullet wound was nothing more than a pin prick.
Still, it wouldn't do to have the bullet inside of him. It would probably get infected.
With a minor burst from his magic, Harry pushed the bullet wound out of his shoulder, his teeth grit slightly as a minor stab of pain arced through him. A second later, Harry soothed the wound and healed it up with his magic, leaving nothing more than light pink scar tissue that would disappear within a day or so.
His wound now healed, Harry leaned down and picked up the bullet, bringing it to his eyes so he could examine it. Despite the blood coating it, Harry could see that it was made from a very different material than other bullets, which were usually made from lead or steel and sometimes copper. This was not made from either.
"Silver."
Harry frowned as he dropped the bullet and stood back up. He quickly walked over to the girl lying on the bed. The first thing he noted was that she was pale, very pale. Her skin was so white that it almost looked translucent.
At least, what skin he could see. Much of her body was covered in blood. Surprisingly enough, except for a single puncture wound on her neck that was still bleeding pretty badly and looked like it had just barely missed anything vital, she did not look like she had any wounds at all.
She was also absolutely gorgeous, Harry noted almost clinically. Her face, though pale, had very aristocratic and fair features, like a princess of some kind. High cheeks bones that were softened by her heart shaped face, a small nose, thick eyelashes and full lips painted an almost blood red created a vision of beauty that was only exceeded by Perenelle. The raven colored hair framing her face like some kind of darkened halo only added an aura of mystery to her otherwise fair features.
Her body was nothing to scoff at either. He could see the supple yet powerful leg muscles of her thighs and calfs, the deceptive hint of muscles in her slender arms and the definition in her stomach that was hidden under what very little fatty tissue she had. Between that and her lithe waist and well developing bust, she was definitely one of those girls who most teenage males would place under the 'erotic' category he had read about in magazines. At a guess, he would place her age at around maybe fourteen years old.
Reaching out, Harry placed a hand on her neck to check for a pulse. Those guys had said she was dead, but they had also said she was an 'abomination' as well. He didn't really know what that meant, but figured there was something unusual about her. The reason they were chasing her, perhaps.
He was surprised by how warm her skin was. It wasn't exceedingly hot or anything, but considering she was supposed to be dead her body was surprisingly warm. Though that could be because they had just killed her recently. Maybe.
It was only a few seconds after he put his index and middle finger over her pulse point that something shocking happened.
The girl, who he was fairly sure had not been breathing moments ago, gasped loudly. Before Harry could pull his hand away in surprise, her eyes shot wide open just as one of her hands flew up and grabbed onto his with a titan grip. Harry would have tried to remove his wrist from her grip, but found himself too surprised to do anything more than gape.
Silvery-blue eyes with a strange glow darted around the room, confused and frightened as they looked for something, the two men Harry assumed, before landing on him. Those eyes looked at him for several moments, fear leaving for only confusion.
Just as quickly as the eyes had opened, they fluttered closed, and the hand gripping Harry's went limp and fell back onto the bed. It was only after the girl went unconscious again that the young raven haired boy realized something very important.
He had no idea what to do now. There were three dead people in this room, two Italian men and a young teenage female who was apparently not as dead as he thought she was. Not only that, but the evidence of a struggle was obvious. There were blood marks all over the room, a table stained with blood had been turned over, and the bed had even more blood stains on it. Then there was...
Harry looked down at the two men he had killed, grimacing. It would be obvious to anyone with basic skills in observation that they had been killed by an animal. You just couldn't make slash marks like that unless you were Freddy Krueger.
Or some kind of large predatory feline.
Biting his lip, Harry's mind worked overtime to think of what he should do. First, he needed to get rid of the bodies. Would disintegration, or vanishing as he learned it was called, work on a human? He didn't sense any latent magic in them, so their magic resistance would be null, but they were also humans, their anatomy was far more complex than that of, say, a piece of paper.
If only he was further along in his studies of alchemy he could probably find some way to transmute them into something else. Alas, he was still stuck on his second Transmutation Circle, which would probably be far less complex than one that could transmute a human being.
What should he do?
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the situation was taken out of his hands when the sound of thumping feet reached his ears. Someone was coming. No. Several someones. Harry counted no more than one, two, three, six people running down the hall, their thumping feet getting louder.
The police? Maybe?
Whatever the case, he couldn't stay here. Harry looked around, quickly deciding on what he should do with so little time.
Grabbing the girl as he had no desire to leave her there for someone else to find, especially as she appeared to be alive in some strange sense even though she did not have a pulse, Harry activated the portkey he had been given by Nicolas Flamel so that he could return to the man's estate each day for his lessons.
"Alchemy!"
Alright, this chapter is now finished. I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I got 158 reviews. It pleases me to know that you guys enjoy this story enough to inform me. Or to tell me how much you hate my guts for ruining Harry Potter. That pleases me too, cuz I'm an ass like that.
….
Right.
Anyways, please let me know what you think of my story. Your questions, comments and critiques are always welcome. Also, be sure to check out my blog, Thoughts and Wonderings of a Fanfiction Writer, where all of your questions and my thoughts on my stories and other random shit happening in life will be answered. The link is on my profile page. I write in my blog at least once a day, so the next post which will contain my thoughts and answers to your questions will be up some time tomorrow.