A/N: All thanks to the reviewers. And this one has been a pain to write. A large, massive pain, centered around my left buttock. (8/17/10 - 8/18/10)
Chapter 7: The Flamels
Sitting down to lunch, Harry couldn't help but scarf down even more food than he did at breakfast. He was nowhere near as big a pig about it as his cousin was at meals, but he still managed to pack it way. After a good solid twenty-five minutes of eating, he was finally started to get full.
Alistair took this chance to get a word in edge wise, 'A pair of people just crossed into the wards, and if they are who I think they are, I am going to have to speak to them. Are you finished, or should I get a house-elf to take me to them?'
Spearing one last piece of meat with his fork and popping it in his mouth, 'I think I'll survive until dinner. By the by, are you, at some point, going to tell me what in the blazes a 'house-elf' is?'
'Yeah, well just go out to the entrance hall and wait for them. Take me off on your way out, put me in a pocket for a minute, I'll change to my tattered state.'
Harry looked around for a minute, rolled his eyes, and thought, 'Everyone is too busy eating, just change back now, I'll take you off and carry you out. Your plan is overly complicated.'
Muttering something about missing a chance at horsing around, Al shifted back, Harry snatched him off his head and made his way out of the Great Hall, and he thought that he wasn't the only one who needed to have fun in life. He leaned against a wall, holding the Hat in his hands, waiting for whoever Alistair was waiting for.
Less than ten minutes later, a man and woman walked into the castle. They both appeared to be in their mid-forties, the man was of average height, wore his black robes open with slacks of a dark gray and a button down shirt of a lighter shade, his dark hair peppered with gray. The woman was a head shorter, with a skirt and blouse in two slightly different shades of dark green showing under her robes, and her hair was fiery red with streaks of white.
"That them Al?"
"Yup."
Shrugging, Harry made his way over to them, the Hat held before him in both hands, and told them, "The Sorting Hat assumed you would wish to speak with... Hey Al, are you a he or an it?"
"Nobody likes a smart alack, Harry."
The pair, whoever they were, just started at Harry for a few moments. He hadn't quite gotten used to the attention yet, but he could ignore it. He could ignore a lot of things.
The man broke the silence first, while gently taking the Hat from Harry's hands, "Yes, yes, Alistair was just the entity I needed to speak to. Thank you for bringing him to us."
"Your welcome, sir. Alistair, I'll see you whenever I see you."
The hat made a bobbing motion in the man's hands and said, "Yes, Harry, I'll have someone get me back to you when we're finished. You can find your way to and from the Tower from here I assume, and it is fairly difficult to miss the greenhouses, so I assume you can make your way to your next class?"
"Yup. Enjoy your little meeting." Harry then made his way off to the tower, maybe he would take a nap, let all that food settle...
When he was out of earshot, the woman sadly spoke, "He has Lily's eyes, Nic."
And the man nodded glumly, "But he looks just like James, Pen."
Alistair decided not to let the two stew, and interjected, "Yes, yes, anyone who knew his parents can say those things. Now as to why you're here..."
Nic, interrupted, "The reason we came here... but now we have something else to speak about. You made him a Ward of the castle. What happened?"
"We can talk on the way to the third floor..."
Stepping through the portrait hole with a yawn, Harry, working through what he remembered of last night, assumed the pair were the Nicolas and Perenelle that Alistair mentioned, and that the Headmaster had used something of theirs to bait a trap for Voldemort. Apart from that, he was fairly clueless as to what was going, not that he really cared much beyond understanding the basic facts. He stuffed what he assumed he would need for Herbology in his bag, and then dropped onto his bed to at least rest his eyes for a bit.
Stopping at outside the place where the object had been hidden, Nic, Pen, and Al had been talking about Harry all the way up there, with Alistair painting the general picture of Harry's so-called life so far. The two had dark looks on their faces, and Alistair only made one comment, "Don't hurt Fluffy, that would make Hagrid cry for a week. At least."
Nicolas stuck the Hat on his head and stood to one side of the door, with Perenelle on the other, and they then used a spell to rip the door off its hinges, blowing out into the hallway and into the opposite wall. They then each sent a half a dozen quick stunners into the room and calmly walked in, the first guardian, a Cerberus, was out cold already.
Levitating the animal off the trap door, the pair dropped down, Nicolas holding on to his passenger. Hitting the bottom they both immediately and viciously set fire to the Devil's Snare, destroying it in a matter of seconds. Walking into the room of flying keys, they simply blew the door into the next room. Not even breaking stride into the chess room they came and started blowing up the various chess pieces, who were sent fleeing in terror, out of the way of the duo with the hat.
"What the hell was Albus thinking with these quote, defenses, unquote, Alistair?" Nicolas asked.
Alistair grunted, "Probably the exact same thing he was thinking when he consigned Harry to a decade of hell."
Perenelle grimaced, "Was it really that bad? I know we were either first or second on their list of guardians following his godparents."
"We won't know for certain until Albus unseals their wills on the 23rd."
Having finished turning the chess set into fragments, they burst the door into the next room and started throwing overpowered cutting curses at the offending troll. It fell within fifteen seconds. Walking into the next room, they cast a simple flame freezing charm to get by the wall of flame on the far side of the room. And in the final chamber, sitting on a pedestal, was the Sorcerer's Stone.
Picking it up and dropping it into a pocket, Nicolas said, "We really do have more to talk about, Alistair."
Dusting off his robes Harry, walked away from the greenhouses, trailing shortly behind Neville and Hermione who were animatedly discussing this class. He could tell that they had both liked it, Hermione because it was a class and Neville seemed to genuinely enjoy the subject. It reminded him a bit too much of his Aunt's garden.
There was something bothering him at the back of his mind, something he just could not put words to. He stuffed it away so he could examine it later. As he was doing that, he walked into the Entrance Hall and a short... creature... with large floppy ears and over-sized eyes appeared out of nowhere. Harry couldn't help but think that this was a house-elf, while he jumped a foot away out of surprise.
It piped out in a squeaky voice, "Master Hatty says Harry Potter should come see him in Meeting Room 7."
He nodded and thanked the elf... who made a squeeing sound for some bizarre reason before disappearing, and headed off toward where he thought the room was.
"So you have given us the generalities of what happened to him, may Albus burn in hell, but how is he, Alistair?"
"Nicolas, I can only tell you if you two are serious about taking custody of him."
Nicolas and Perenelle looked at each other for a moment.
"James and Lily were some of my favorite people of the last two centuries, Pen, especially since Albus has apparently gone insane."
Perenelle sighed at this, "Quite frankly Nic, I never saw what you did in that codger. But I agree, we should see what we can for him, for James and Lily's sakes at the very least."
Alistair, once again clearing his non-existent throat, "So if you two are agreed?"
They both nodded, their faces a combination of anger and sadness at what happened to the child of their friends.
"So a quick rundown of how Harry is. Physically he is better than he should be, and after a few months of various potions to help fix what is either underdeveloped or what didn't heal properly, he should be a normal eleven year old wizard. Mentally, there is nothing we can do for him without massive use of memory charms, and quite frankly those could do more harm than good. So no matter what we do, it is doubtful that he is ever going go back to thinking like a kid. Emotionally he is the worst off. I lied to everyone when I described his emotional state. No one there needed to know that though he will be fine in mind and body, he is almost dead emotionally. Anything larger than mild excitement is crushed with an instant ruthlessness that is actually quite frightening. In fact I didn't want him to realize it either. I have no idea how he would react."
The look of sadness on their faces was heartbreaking. They remembered that both of his parents were extremely emotional people. Lily was kind with a temper that sent even the boldest running to hide under their beds, while James was a jokester who saw humor in everything. That their child could barely feel anything, they felt that was the greatest crime Dumbledore had committed thus far.
Pen pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, and dabbed at her eyes, "Is there anything else you think we should know?"
"I have a few suspicions. He's only about average magically but..."
Nicolas's face blanked with rage as he interrupted Alistair, "He was committing deliberate acts of magic before his parents' deaths. I remember a time when he summoned a cup of juice right out of Lily's hands. And neither of them were surprised at what he had done. He had done it before!"
"So it is now no long a suspicion. You should get him checked thoroughly for blocks and bindings on his magic, maybe more."
Perenelle made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an irate cat, "You think that... that..." She launched off into some very interesting use of vulgarities in at least half a dozen languages in an attempt to describe just what she thought of Dumbledore. "Explain to me just why we shouldn't go kill Dumbledore, right now?"
"Because Perenelle, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort was in this castle just yesterday. If he hadn't been, if it was still only a possibility that he was still hanging around, we could possibly do without Dumbledore. How he was, and still is, Dumbles is the only one who has ever been able to stand up to him in a fight. Sorry, you two, but you may have more skill in your pinkies than Dumbledore may have in his entire body, but even working together you two can barely hold a candle to him."
They both grunted disconsolately at this.
Harry knocked on the door to the Meeting Room, figuring that if the Hat had wanted Harry to come to him in this room something had to be up. The door opened with no visible cause, so he entered and when the hat and the pair from earlier were silent, he decided to take a seat.
Alistair broke the raging quiet, "Harry, meet Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. Among other things, they were friends of your parents. They figured out, in short order, that you had been made a Ward of the school...
And Nicolas broke in, "And we wanted to know if you like us to become your guardians."
And for the first time while at the school, Harry's face showed something other than the evenness he normally kept, the minor annoyance he sometimes felt, or the mild excitement he showed. It went blank for all of ten seconds, before a look of hunger came across his face. He felt something flutter in his chest, just left of center.
He spoke in a small quiet, sounding for the first time like an eleven year old, "You knew my parents? I... I..."
He fought with himself, attempted to crush the feeling down, like he always did, and barely managed to, no longer really understanding why he did it. He brought his face back to evenness, but it took a minute to get his voice to work again.
"I... I think I'd like that."
Nicolas and Perenelle smiled, and she said, "We'll need to speak to your Head of House. There are probably a large number of things that Albus decided to skip when he had you brought back into our world, so I think we are going to need to take you out of the castle for a few days at the very least so we can get everything done."
Nicolas nodded, and picked up the thread of the conversation, "Probably, and more than we would like to think. Now there are number of things that we are going to have to speak with Alistair about, do you want to sit in on it?"
"No, I'm fine. I assume you are going to want me there when you speak to Professor McGonagall?"
All three voiced their assent.
"Then I'll take my leave."
Harry heaved his way out of the chair, and left the room.
After the door closed, Perenelle put forth, "So... his parents..."
Nicolas simply grunted and muttered a few nasty things about Dumbledore in French.
Alistair wished he was allowed to read more than Harry's uppermost thoughts. He had what he thought was a fairly good idea of how Harry's mind worked, but when he had watched the young man's history, he had to take the role of an outside observer, so he didn't know what was really going on in Harry's head apart from his glimpse for the purpose of sorting. Even when he was in Harry's mindscape, the magics that composed of his own existence did not allow him to go poking around anymore than was necessary to teach Harry.
Harry propped himself up against a wall a few corridors away and shook his head.
'Nothing is wrong. Any... any person would want to know about their parents if they didn't know them. Nothing is wrong with me. I'm normal.'
'That sounds like some fairly thin justification.'
'Shut up!'
'Talking to yourself is a sure sign of madness.'
'Only when you don't have anyone to talk to.'
'Well, what about your new acquaintances... surely you can talk to them.'
'I barely even know them. I don't need anyone anyways. All I need is me.'
'And maybe if you repeat it often enough, it may even become true.'
Harry screwed his eyes shut and shoved that particular voice down. It and the others had been his only company in the long dark of the cupboard. That particular voice had taken a long time to teach him the lesson he had taught Hermione in a few minutes. But sometimes it could just be too rational.
He opened his eyes and saw that he had sunk down to the floor. Picking himself off and dusting off his clothes, he made his way to the Tower.
A/N2: For those of you who are curious, September the 23rd, 1991, was the Autumnal Equinox. And a full moon!
