Chapter Nine: The Discovery.
Harry had spent quite a while discussing his purchase with Wiseacre. What he had bought was a Nineteen-Forties Military Longcoat, with four pockets: two on the outside two in the inside.
Apparently the business with the Auror Force Wiseacre had cultivated was due to one he tailored for one Alastor Moody, the Head Auror at the time, and had spinned off to other enchanted clothing.
Moody, Wiseacre had said, liked it so much he made it compulsory for his Aurors in the field. Of course the man returned for modifications himself. Wiseacre said that it was a rather successful relationship he'd cultivated with the Auror force, as the maintenance and initial purchase costs went a long way for more designs.
"Of course, all that's gone down the drain now." Wiseacre had muttered angrily.
When Harry asked, he explained that the new Minster who came into power just this year had made it one of the first things he done was cut funding in the Auror Department. He had argued that the war was long over (Harry still had to research this war) and that "jumping at shadows" and "draining money" into needless funding were simply ridiculous. Organised Dark Wizards were a thing of the past, and Aurors did not need that much funding to chase down petty criminals.
"Is it not a good thing, then?"
"Good god no laddie." Wiseacre scoffed. "Everybody bleedin' knows it's not. Sure, we've got Magical Law Enforcement Patrol doing the rounds, but those tools wouldn't have had a hope in hell going against a Death Eater grunt back in the war. It's only gone downhill from there. Hit Wizards? Bah! They can barely do their job, Knockturn Alley is proof of that! Aurors I have a lot of respect for, the blokes who went toe to toe with names like Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange. Most of the old names have retired or quit, got loads of puffed up laddies with shiny badges now."
Wiseacre explained that he'd need his measurements for the long-coat, and he'd have it ready within two weeks, as his next shipment of the leather would be arriving in four days.
"Ah, about that." Harry fidgeted. "I truly don't know when I'll be able to get back to the Alley to pick it up, so do you mind if I pay in advance?"
Wiseacre shrugged. "Don't live so close eh? Just call for the Knight Bus, stick your wand out into the street to signal. S'nae problem though laddie, tell you what, how about a thirty galleon deposit, sound good? Then you can pay the sixty on pickup."
"So that's... Four hundred and fifty pounds in non magical money?" Harry asked, baffled as he forked over the golden coins. "That's strange."
"Well our economy is quite different from the Muggle World." Wiseacre said. "Goin' through your magical education you learn a lot that'll let you live in the our world. Herbology should eventually crossover with Charms in the O. I think, that covers growing your own food. See, we can't conjure food, but magic can help it well on the way. Hybrid plants, and the like. We can harvest a garden patch weekly. Home care is covered all across Transfiguration, Charms and Defence. You won't hungry unless you're a tool or a squib."
Wiseacre paused to count the galleons into small pouches, before continuing.
"Job-wise, the Ministry tends to employ quite a lot of people. Course you've got places like The Alley for employment various other towns and settlements are all over the country. You see, the only things that magicals really need money for are specialist services and products."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.
"Well, take my long-coat for example. I can guarantee you won't see it anywhere else that I know of. Patents are taken very seriously in our world. It's why you'll usually see monopoly's on businesses and the like. Ollivander's is older than dirt, but then you've got that Muggleborn guy who runs his store 'Junk and Jewels' down the street. We've never had a Second-Hand Store before, and it was actually in demand. He got a business deal with the Shafiq family who funded his capital and there you go: fresh new business that's booming. You won't find better quality wands than Ollivander, hence why he has a monopoly on it in Britain. Plus, no family knows how to make a wand, knowledge like that is hoarded by the family who own the business. I wish I knew how to make a broomstick, it's a bloody great earner. Hard work and heavy competition though."
Harry then enquired about titles of books he could buy to research the Magical World.
"'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' details the The Magical sides of the Muggle World Wars and our own war with You-Know-Who. 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century', and 'Modern Magical History' go hand in hand really. 'Course, if yer lookin' for some more specific heavy reading, you're going to have to give me a topic laddie."
Harry hesitated before answering. "Anything on something like, Alchemy?"
"Alchemy?" Wiseacre's brows were nearing his forehead. "Why that?"
"Curiosity." Harry replied. "It's er, a myth in the Non-Magical World. I just wanted to check if it existed."
"Course it does!" The Irishman laughed. "Course, it's none too common these days, no. I think the only practitioner in Britain is Albus Dumbledore, but he learned that in France from Nicolas Flamel."
"Nicolas Flamel? He's real?"
"Real? What do ye mean laddie?"
"He's known about in the Non-Magical World." Harry explained.
Wiseacre's face went through a storm of expressions. The most prominent being worry and discomfort.
"They think he's a myth too." Harry elaborated hastily. "I mean, they say he's lived for hundreds of years and erm, 'Muggles' don't live that long nor do they think it's possible."
"Ah see." The shopkeeper relaxed. "Well I can assure you, him and his wife are real, they live in isolation somewhere in France. Flamel's nearing six hundred and something I think. Now, books about Alchemy, hm... Only title I really know of is 'Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science' by, something Pyrites, I forget the name."
"Thank you." Harry said respectfully.
"No problem laddie, no problem at all."
Harry bought a Moleskin Satchel to tide him over till he got his coat, forking over nineteen galleons and six sickles, making it cost about ninety six pounds, eighty pence. He now had twenty two galleons and over a handful of sickles.
"Why ye putting your money in the satchel?" Wiseacre asked.
"Am I not supposed to?" Harry paused, confused.
"Well we have wee moneybags for that! They're Ministry-Approved Enchanted, only to hold up to the amount that's stitched onto the bag. You get 'em at Gringotts, like five galleon bags, ten sickle bags..."
Harry sighed. Typical of the gremlins to be obnoxiously unhelpful.
"'Ere, have these." Wiseacre placed a few random bags on the counter, waving off Harry's thanks.
"I keep 'em at the counter for transactions anyway, things are cheap."
Now filling the little drawstring bags, his ten sickle one coming two short and the fifth five galleon three short, he placed them gently inside the Satchel, watching in awe as his arm disappeared to the elbow inside.
It scared him slightly, that this completely bizarre energy could do such feats. The possibility for abuse of this was terrifying, and Harry was hesitant to become reliant on it lest he depend on the power.
He still had nightmares of that conversation with the being he met.
The book store, one Flourish and Blotts, was a bright store with quite a bit of traffic. He had make a both mental and physical check-list of subjects and areas.
When he went to the counter some time later, he had a rather well rounded collection. 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration', 'Magical Drafts and Potions' (he was quite confident in this subject since it had some close ties to Alchemy), 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' because an idea of what animals were in the world he would be entering would be quite useful, a copy of 'One 'Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi', and the full set of 'The Standard Book of Spells'. Harry also got a few other books that didn't seem to cover the main magical areas, those being Transfiguration, Potions, Creatures, Herbology (or botany) and Charms. There were a few books about 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' and a the even less discussing 'Dark Arts' but he didn't really have an interest in... What were those things? Magical Art? Martial Arts? Regardless, he wasn't too concerned nor interested.
Anyway, he'd bought 'Magical Theory' which he hoped would explain how magic exactly worked, and maybe anything about his weird living Magic. Said Magic which was apparently did not like that description judging by the slight pinch at his arm from one tendril. He'd got 'A History of Magic' too, which was a rather thick book that he hoped would cover the topics he was interested in.
And of course, the book he was most eager to read, 'Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science' by Argo Pyrites.
The woman at the counter gave him a strange look when he presented his books, but none the less accepted the twenty two galleons, the last book being the most expensive at four galleons, leaving him with the bag of sickles.
Storing the books in his Satchel, Harry was now unsure. From checking the time, he knew he now had less than an hour and a half before he'd need to leave to be picked up. He really didn't want to go back to the Goblins and hear some stupid rule about amount of withdrawals in a day or something, so he decided to find a bench and read a few of the books he had to kill the time.
He vowed that the next time he returned, he'd check out the large Pet Store, and the clothes available. He kept on getting stares that made him very uncomfortable.
Opening his Alchemy book, Harry couldn't contain his excitement.
Mostly due to the fact it left immediately after the first few pages.
The book described Alchemy that was nothing like what he could do. The thing was mostly full of historical recounts, speculation and theories! Theories being, of course, other people's speculations. It discussed some of the known information about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosophers Stone, but it was so... Inaccurate! One of the paragraphs talked about the theories behind the conversion (transmutation was the Alchemical term!) of various metals and minerals, which was so stupid! Harry knew if he had something like, say, Coal Sludge from mining he could easily transmute the trace metals into iron, silver or gold-... Wait.
Harry backtracked. The knowledge he had gained had given him an almost instinctual know how in the sciences and how to transmute using the knowledge, and it was only now he was realising. Anyone who knew how could easily use Alchemy to create gold.
"The ancient study of Alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal."
This was completely false. The stone was not needed. How the hell did the stone even make this 'Elixir of Life' too? There was no relation, beyond both topics being-... Oh, Flamel was clever.
Nicolas Flamel was lying to the whole world about Alchemy. The two most well 'known' purposes of Alchemy in history and now in the cultured present day knowledge were the end goals of turning metals into gold and eternal life. Flamel had (through probably years and years and years of effort) convinced the world that the only way to do any of the major, big things in Alchemy, the subjects that attracted greedy fools and potential abusers was the Philosophers Stone, an artefact that only he was in possession of and had the knowledge of how to make. It was genius.
Harry could easily understand why. If every magical or alchemist knew how possible it was with careful research and preparation to transmute precious and base metals and minerals, it would be chaos. Flamel had convinced the whole world that Alchemy was a leap of faith. Nobody would and will jump. The ones that did jump would be without guidance and true knowledge, and thus were doomed to failure. Those stories would fuel the insistence that it was impossible.
This created a whole new line of thinking for Harry, though. Was the Philosophers Stone actually real? Or was it part of the lie? If it wasn't real, then how had Flamel lived so long? But if it was real... Did it truly grant immortality, or did it have another purpose?
Realising that the book would be useless, Harry still skimmed the other pages. As expected, nothing of importance.
Sighing, he checked how much time he had left. Hour and ten minutes. Enough time to see if he could return the book, and get a meal.
He was told on no uncertain terms that Flourish and Blotts did not accept returned books. What a bloody outrage, he'd only bought the thing twenty minutes ago!
Remembering something about a second hand store that Wiseacre mentioned, Junk or something. He'd see if he could get it traded or sold down there.
It was a rather obvious store now he found it: the window display was full of assorted products, with no rhyme or reason to them. He saw inside a large shelf devoted to books however, and he was hopeful.
"Hello my young friend, what are you in for?"
The Muggleborn mentioned was a short, brown haired and rather unremarkable man.
"I was wondering if I could sell or trade in this book? Flourish and Blotts apparently don't take returns."
Harry handed over the tome to the man, whom took in the title, a thoughtful frown etched on his face.
"Hmm... I could do you three galleons or three books?"
"Three galleons, please." Harry said eagerly. Books weren't as tasty as a pub meal. At least, he thought so, having never had a restaurant or pub meal before.
He decided to buy something from the store however, as a thank you to the man for actually paying back that much for the book.
"If you're looking at the books, I'd go for that pile down there." He said, gesturing near the bottom as he went back to working on what looked like a ledger. "Good old Dumbledore brought in the usual, great man."
"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, perking up. He'd been mentioned in the book, apparently he'd worked with Flamel for a period of time.
"Yes, one of the nicest guys I've met. Every month or so he drops off some books he's read, all for free. I just do eight sickles for whatever he drops off."
Harry decided it was worth having a look at. Sifting through them however, he deflated slightly. A copy of 'Hogwarts, A History', a book on 'Catoptromancy', whatever that was, and a tome called 'The Oracle of Palombo', apparently the same author of the first book were the most notable and in the best condition.
Sighing, he grabbed the Catoptromancy book, which felt as if the pages were coming apart inside.
"Odd choice." The older man commented at the counter, glancing at the title.
"Never heard of it before, should be interesting." Harry shrugged.
Eight sickles lighter, Harry left for the Leaky Cauldron. Hopefully lunch was still available, or a light dinner.
Following behind an elderly man through the wall, Harry made his way into the now more crowded establishment.
Looking around awkwardly, he settled into a single table near the corner, scanning the menu left.
"Welcome young master, what can I do you for today?" Came not a moment later.
It was the bartender he saw earlier in the day, he couldn't quite remember the name that Wiseacre had given.
"Good afternoon..." Harry said, trailing off uncertainly.
"Tom, m'lad." He smiled. "Have you decided on what you'd like?"
Harry glanced at the menu again, still slightly confused at the Wizarding Cuisines.
"Ah," Tom nodded understandingly, "Muggleborn. Well it's no problem." He pulled up a chair from the table beside, and proceeded to explain to Harry what the meals where, and some of the ingredients listed.
"Dragons are real?" Harry summarised when Tom detailed the special today, dragon-meat with roast potatoes and vegetables with drizzled mushroom sauce.
"Oh yes, their meat is like a good slice of steak." Tom nodded. "Would you be having that?"
"Yes, please."
"And how do you like yours done?"
"Um... Medium rare?"
"Excellent young master." Tom nodded, writing it down. "And drink?"
"Oh, er, a Pumpkin Juice please."
"Certainly."
When Tom went off to take a few other orders, Harry decided to take a look at the strange book he bought.
It only had that strange word as a heading, and the inside was packed with scrawled pages of notes. It was only when Harry realised that the writing in the book was distinctly different from the curly scrawls and notes that Dumbledore was in fact using this book for studying something. From what he could tell in the book, it involved mirrors and telling the future. The true prize however, was a slightly smaller than A4 leather bound book that fell out near the end of the tome.
The front of it was scrawled in French, and the rest inside Harry verified was indeed the same. However, there are some things that are the same in nearly all languages, the most prominent being names.
"De votre ami, Nicolas Flamel. Utilisez-le bien." Harry muttered, tripping over the words at the bottom of the note inside.
He had a journal hand wrote by Nicolas Flamel himself. While he really should return it to the Dumbledore man, he'd much rather keep it. At least, until he'd translated it and noted any important information he found.
Harry allowed himself a small sigh; he couldn't get it translated through anyone else as it was clearly magical, non-magicals would be very curious as to why he had it along with a host of other problems they'd create, while magicals would understand very clearly what it was and the chance of him getting it returned with a translation were zero. There was also the fact he frankly wasn't prepared to trust anyone with potentially secret knowledge that Mr Flamel had worked hard to keep hidden.
So it looked like he'd be learning French. After the magical meal, of course.
