CHAPTER THREE

An Offer He Can't Refuse

Things were not going as Albus had expected.

When Harry Potter fled Hogwarts under the cover of night a week ago, he had thought it would be a simple matter to find him wherever he went and hear the truth of those night's events from the child's own lips. After all, how difficult could it be to track down an eleven-year-old boy with a year's worth of schooling?

Incredibly so, as it turned out.

Albus quickly came to regret his initial attitude as he and his allies found themselves at a loss when it came to tracking the boy. When his informants in the London Citadel had told him that magical activity had been registered in Little Whinging, little more than a day after he had returned from Memphis, he had felt that old feeling of self-satisfaction rise within him. The smugness that came with always being proven right had never left him, even after the follies of his youth, but he had learned how to better control and conceal it.

After all, he had learned the hard way that only fools made their plans in arrogance.

However, before he could even begin to gather the hand-picked group of friendly faces that would put Harry at ease, he had gotten word that no witch or wizard had been found in the residence or even in the local area.

Albus himself had arrived at the non-descript Muggle home to find no trace of Harry aside of the few Martial Spells he had cast. The Aurors had allowed him to search the Muggles' memories, as Mind Masters were few and needed for more pressing cases, and as a former Magister, Albus' name still carried some weight within the corps.

When Albus had learned that Harry had been tracked to the home of a Muggle neighbour, he had not given it much thought. He presumed the boy had seen his empty home and turned to an old friend for a place to sleep. What he had not guessed was just how close this old friend was.

Searching the memories of the Muggles, particularly the child's, revealed a far closer friendship than he would have presumed from Lupin's reports. In fact, Albus felt hoodwinked that one of his trusted allies would not tell him about the Witch-Hunting Muggles that lived a rock's throw away from their protected principal. That was something the two of them were going to have to discuss in the near future.

In the meantime, he merely assured the young girl that her friend was not in any trouble, while the Aurors made the usual stoic threats against the retired Witch-Hunter. While he had attacked a wizard, there was no evidence of that aside from the memories Albus had seen and he was not cruel enough to separate a child from their father. Besides, Harry knew not to return to this place, so it was not his concern.

For five days after that, he and his allies waited for Harry to resurface, expecting him to use magic to avoid the authorities and blend in amongst the Muggles, but somehow that never happened. Tracking spells were rendered useless as he seemed to avoid the use of all magic, and he had somehow turned himself Unplottable as though he were constantly on the move. He even managed to avoid the eyes of all the Scrying Mirrors Albus had tried to track him with. None of this should have been possible, because while Harry was protected from the mystic gaze of other wizards, these anti-tracking protections should have no effect on Albus, as he was the one who put them there. It was almost as if Harry were under the protection of a powerful Boundary, one that could rival a Citadel.

The idea that the boy had been kidnapped by a follower of Lord Voldemort had crossed his mind more than once, so was it any surprise that he had been having trouble sleeping over the last week?

Finally, on the first Tuesday of the summer holiday, his old friend and apprentice, Captain Alastor Moody, let himself into Albus' office more harried than the Headmaster had ever seen him look before. It didn't take long for him to explain exactly why.

"It was him?" Albus asked, struggling to remain calm and not match Alastor's restless energy. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm bloody sure, Albus!" Alastor was not a man who liked having his reports questioned. "It's hard to miss a boy riding a flying desk chair over London!"

"But why would he do that?" Albus wondered. "Was he fleeing from someone?"

"Two people, and they weren't working together." Alastor said this while wearing a curious smile. When Albus raised his eyebrows, the Auror Captain explained himself. "Three witches and a wizard attacked him, but we only found him so quickly because there had been another Black sighting nearby."

Albus swallowed thickly. He hadn't been all that concerned when he had read Maia Black had escaped Azkaban, as he had matters much closer to home to deal with, and she was not even the worst of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Now however, he wished he had taken the time to inform Harry of his godmother and her betrayal. "Is he alright? Harry?" For a multitude of different reasons, the boy was too important to lose.

"He was alright when I last saw him, but he managed to give us the slip. We were more focused on catching Black." Alastor pre-emptively defended himself.

Albus leaned forward quickly, as he lost control of himself. Translucent tendrils of Mana emanated from his body, but Alastor didn't react. A lesser man might have reflexively flinched, but he had seen and experienced far worse. "I thought you had come here to inform me that he was safe! That you had him!"

Alastor shook his head. "The boy got away with nary a scratch. He had to fight off five adult sorcerers and burn down half of London to do it, but he managed it just fine on his own."

That would explain his smile, Albus thought with the beginnings of a migraine forming behind his forehead. Alastor always did have a soft spot for underdogs.

Albus sat back in his chair as Alastor left the office without another word, and his mind wandered back to the question that had kept him up since his return from Memphis a week ago. Where in the world was Harry Potter?

Albus would be astonished to learn that Harry was much closer to him in that moment than he could ever reasonably guess.

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In the same building that Albus Dumbledore was now pacing in, Harry Potter leaned his head back against the giant bathtub's soft edge, allowing the warm water to do its work as he relaxed properly for the first time since his disrupted bath this morning. It had been a trying day for him, and he was ready for an early night.

It had been a long, but uneventful flight from London to Hogwarts. The moment he had put enough distance between himself and the Aurors he had pulled his stolen Nimbus 2000 out of his bag and flew away as quickly as he could, keen to leave the capital behind.

Harry had flown north without thinking, as though he were a migrating bird making its way home, but when he gave it even a moment's thought, he realised that returning to school wasn't such a bad idea. It was empty of both students and staff, was relatively safe, had plenty of places to hide in, and it was just about the last place anyone would think to look for him.

The only thing Hogwarts was missing was food. While the Automatons would serve him without question in the kitchens, they would also mark his use in his Student Handbook, and Harry was sure that the staff kept record as well, as the Marauders had never allowed an Automaton into the Room of Requirement.

As such, on his final resting stop, Harry wandered into a small town somewhere in Scotland where he purchased all the groceries that could fit inside his deceptively capable bag, before forcing himself to make the last stretch of the journey in one go, as he was eager to get there before nightfall.

Finding Hogwarts had been somewhat difficult at first, but he had a lucky break in recognising some landmarks he had passed on his previous journey last week. Landing on the outskirts of Hogsmeade just as the sun was beginning to dip behind the westward mountains, Harry made his way into Honeydukes and around the surly looking shop assistant who was reading a copy of Witch Weekly behind the counter, in order to reach the basement door.

Accessing the tunnel that was hidden behind a barrel of cockroach clusters, Harry made his way through the secret passageway and into the school, using the Marauder's Map to avoid the only two people that remained in the castle: Lord Dumbledore and Mr. Filch.

As much as Harry would have liked to go to his dorm room and collect his things, he forced himself to walk steadily to the Room of Requirement under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak instead. Having his things go missing was an all too easy way to reveal his location to his pursuers, and that was even if his things were still there.

Harry had missed his possessions, especially his antique globe as he had found it difficult to fall asleep this past week without the tiny lights that represented all the magical activity in the world reflecting from his walls and had lulling him to sleep.

Oh, and his clothes too of course. He missed not wearing clean clothes every day.

Changing the Room of Requirement into a giant dormitory had been his first instinct, and when he stepped inside that was just what he found; a large room with a wide four poster bed against the far wall, a sitting area around floor-to-ceiling windows that gave him his favourite view of the mountains, and a door that led into a bathroom with a giant tub built into the ground.

The Room must have a better understanding of what he considered safe and comfortable than even he did, as he immediately turned the taps for warm water and began to strip out of his clothes, tossing them and his ruined watch on the floor, eager to put the day's events behind him.

However, as he lay there in the warm water, resting his head against the bathtub's soft edge, Harry couldn't bring himself to forget all that had happened today and just what it had and hadn't revealed to him. How did they track him to the shopping centre? And if they had such magic at their disposal, why hadn't they used it to find him sooner?

Harry knew he had made the right choice in returning to Hogwarts, as no one would be able to track him while he was safe behind its legendary Boundary. He had been foolish to even consider hiding in the Muggle world, as he was nowhere near knowledgeable enough to move amongst his non-magical counterparts without being tracked and he was next to powerless without spells at his disposal. No, before he could go out on his own, he needed to learn both how to prevent being tracked and how to cast spells in a Muggle area without alerting the nearest authorities.

Harry smiled as he finally pulled himself out of the bathtub, his fingers already pruned. It was no coincidence that he had chosen the Room of Requirement to hole himself away in. But that was for tomorrow. It had been a very trying day.

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Harry awoke the next morning feeling safe for the first time in days. He had been unaffected by nightmares, and he was tempted to simply roll over and go back to sleep, but he knew that he was on a time limit, so he forced himself out of his comfortable bed.

School would be resuming in almost ten weeks and Harry didn't feel confident in his ability to avoid detection in a packed school, especially as the Marauders knew how to access the Room of Requirement as well. Harry only had a certain number of days to remain safe within Hogwarts' walls before he had to find somewhere else to hide.

That was why the Philosopher's Stone was so important to him. Not because of what it could do, but because of who it was so valuable to. As such, he kept it safe within his Mokeskin pouch, not even daring to remove it, just in case it could be tracked. Harry only had to learn how to avoid detection until he could use it to broker a deal.

Harry made his way across the room naked, as he had left his clothes on the bathroom floor the night before. All he had was his Silver Spears uniform and the casual summer wear he had purchased in London, and both were rather filthy after he had worn them both so many times over the last week.

Now that he was safe to use magic, Harry didn't hesitate in casting multiple Scouring Charms on every clothing item individually, leaving them all with a fresh, citrus scent. Still, while it was nice to wear clean clothes again, Harry missed how soft the Automatons could make his clothes feel and the way they left his fresh uniform hanging from his wardrobe before he could even wake up every morning.

Harry sighed. A single year at Hogwarts had utterly spoiled him.

After using the groceries that he had brought along to make himself breakfast of scrambled eggs in the tiny kitchenette that he had missed in the corner, Harry turned to the Room at large, wanting to test out its capabilities.

His eyes scanned the room, trying to find the manifestation of his desire, but the Room of Requirement seemed to operate only when he wasn't directly watching it, as on his third examination a small, half-filled bookshelf had appeared near the door when his back had been turned.

Harry hurried forward to examine its contents, only to come away disappointed. Most of the book titles were unrelated to the topic he was searching for, and some were clearly enchanted to attack with visible Runic Complexes running along the spines. A quick Verdimillious Charm confirmed this, and Harry made sure to avoid touching them. It seemed that the Room of Requirement only had access to the books that had been hidden in its depths by troublemaking students over the centuries, so if he wanted to learn how to avoid being tracked then he was going to have to risk a trip to the Library Tower.

The Hogwarts Library was one the most extensive collections of magical knowledge in the world, so either Madam Pince or Lord Dumbledore would have placed protections over it to prevent theft. Harry was just starting to plan a way to get past these defences, when his eye caught a thin, leather-bound book squeezed in between two large, and clearly cursed, tomes. Not wanting to risk touching the cursed items, Harry used a simple Summoning Charm to bring the desired book to him, but only after making sure it had no malicious magic cast over it either.

Harry turned the thin, little book over in his hands, examining it. The front cover was blank, but when he opened it, he discovered the title written in neat cursive on the front page:

Fifty-Six Simple Ways to Avoid Detection, by Phineas Nigellus Black

Harry was reassured as he recognised the name from Hogwarts: A History. While Headmaster Black was the least popular Headteacher in Hogwarts' history, he had still been a Headmaster, so he had been both powerful and knowledgeable.

Flicking through the short book, it was obvious to see that this was an original manuscript and not a copy. Judging by the contents that he caught the briefest of glimpses of, he guessed that the Auror Corps didn't want this book to be available to the public, so they must have prevented its publishing. Still, it had somehow found its way here, the headquarters of a secret society of rowdy teenagers.

Harry smiled as he made his way over to the sitting area, silently thanking his troublemaking predecessors as he went. Sitting on a comfy chair by the floor to ceiling windows, Harry cracked the book open and began to search for a spell relevant for his situation. Previously, he had only researched magic for academic or duelling purposes, but now he needed to learn how to keep his location a secret from anyone who would come after him, and the books contents revealed just how little he really knew.

While some spells such as the Disillusionment Charm and Muffling Charm were known to him, others took him by surprise. Harry felt like a fool for not considering owl tracking in the threats against him, but he could forgive himself for not knowing about Scrying Mirrors as Divination had never seemed like a genuine subject to him. He should know better now, as he was the subject of a real prophecy.

Harry finally stopped his page turning when he found his most pressing worry, which was the method of tracking that Aurors employed. He read:

Despite rumours to the contrary, the Trace is not a spell that is cast upon every witch and wizard in the world. Such a thing is far too difficult to maintain, and even children would have been capable to detect and remove such invasive magic from their person. No, the reality is far less precise and infinitely more exploitable.

Through the use of carefully constructed Artifices called Shards, Aurors are able to track the use of magic in any given nation. These Shards are made of Mermish Crystal, they number in the thousands, and are placed in secret locations all over the world under heavy guard. Little is known about them, as all that maintain and guard these ancient instruments are sworn to Unbreakable Vows, but records of their original construction are available for Enchanting Masters of the Magisterium.

The Trace is broadscale magic, meaning that it is imprecise by its very nature and cannot differentiate between casters. Therefore, it is impossible to track spells that are cast in Confederation territory, but all too easy to follow the residue of magic in Muggle regions like a single flickering light in a dark world.

However, if your line of business takes you into the Muggle domain, there are ways around detection. The Trace can detect the use of magic with extreme precision when cast in the non-magical world, and while this method of tracking can never be entirely removed, it can be worked around.

Harry read through the various methods that Phineas offered and immediately rejected all but the last. The other methods were longer lasting and far more reliable, but he wouldn't trust his potioneering skills enough to attempt the written recipe even if he was willing to wait four lunar cycles for the brewing process, and he needed at least five trusted friends if he even wanted to attempt the inscribed ritual, but he was running a little low on faith these days. No, if he was going to go forward, then it would have to be with one of the two spells.

The first was the longer lasting of the two, but also the more dangerous. It was a favourite amongst fledging Rogues, but it worked almost counterproductively. Instead of hiding the fact that magic was being cast in a Muggle area, the Broad-Signal Charm blanketed the area around the caster with a thin layer of Mana, fooling the nearest Shard into believing that the area in question was Confederacy territory. As such, the caster was able to blend in amongst the Muggles and avoid detection from the Aurors that inevitably came to investigate. The more people who cast the spell, the wider the area that was affected. A single caster could manage a few acres worth of land, but a group of Rogues had been known to manage entire towns.

The second was much more fleeting, but it was far more subtle. The Mana-Dampening Charm worked only on the individual that had cast it, and it camouflaged any magic that the caster did so that it remained undetectable from the Shards. While incredibly useful, it was also limited as it faded in a matter of hours, even under the hands of a seasoned sorcerer, and it didn't hide itself from the Shards when it was recast, making long trips out into the Muggle world untenable. Still, it was the easiest to learn.

Laying the still open book on the coffee table, Harry put a cushion on the ground in front of his chair and knelt in front of it. Waving his wand while staring at the instructions for the Mana-Dampening Charm, Harry muttered, "Mutare Verba!" As he watched, the ink on the page shifted and moved until it was a step-by-step process on how to cast the desired spell, from every necessary wand movement, all the way to the enunciation of the incantation.

It took a few minutes, but when Harry was sure he had it memorised, he cast, "Caelestis Inritus!", and a miniscule puff of purple dust came from the end of his wand and fell onto the table in front of him, and Harry smiled proudly.

Unlike the aftermath of previous fights he'd had, his connection to his Blackthorn wand had not improved after last week's events. While a part of him was afraid that his wand had simply found its limit, he was mostly just happy that it no longer impeded him. His wand truly felt like an amplifier now, and not something that was actively holding him back.

He was pleased because his first effort had told him a lot. The Mana-Dampening Charm was similar to the Tracking Spell that Eliza had employed in the Forbidden Forest, as he guessed that pathetic puff was supposed to become a swirl of glittering purple powder that covered his person and protected him from detection. The fact that he had gotten such an advanced (and illegal) spell to work for him so quickly could only mean that he was improving as a wizard.

Glad to have something to be happy about, Harry rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

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Ten days. That was how long it took for him to master the Mana-Dampening Charm and only the Mana-Dampening Charm.

Harry had tested it extensively, as he flew out of Hogsmeade more and more over the last week and a half, to various towns and cities all over Scotland and northern England in order to cast the spell that he spent every day practicing.

He had gotten the hand of conjuring the cloud of purple dust on the first day, but as he quickly found out the next day, there was a lot more to the Mana-Dampening Charm than just that. Harry had cast a simple Wand-Lightning Charm while in a supermarket somewhere near the western Scottish coast, and the Aurors had arrived in under a minute. Harry had fled under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, taking fresh groceries with him.

Over and over again he practiced the charm, and over and over again he was tracked down. Harry felt bad about wasting the Aurors' time, and he would have stopped much sooner if it wasn't for the fact that he was getting better at casting the spell.

Just yesterday, Harry had used a Scouring Charm on his seat when he went to a burger place in Manchester and the Aurors had only arrived when he had used a Mouth-Cleaning Spell to get a kernel of popcorn from between his teeth when he was coming out of the cinema several hours later.

Harry had been lucky that he had snuck in to see a movie that had been rated for older audiences, as he had been able to hide his shorter form behind the crowd of adults that had been streaming out of the theatre.

Now, on the first day of July, Harry sat in an American style diner in London, wearing his Silver Spears uniform, and waiting for his appointment to arrive. He sat far away from the windows, in a booth near the kitchen doors for an easy escape. If this went poorly, he could duck behind the counter or into the bathroom and put his Cloak on before his invitee could follow.

Harry shook his head. He couldn't afford to think like that. This meeting had to go well.

Harry wished that he had more time to practice all the spells in Phineas' manuscript, not just the one, but he was under an even steeper time crunch than he had first realised. The Room of Requirement could provide many things, but a refrigerator was not one of them. Harry had learned just how quickly milk and eggs could spoil at room temperature, and he didn't have the time to learn the Stasis Charm that the Room had tried to provide him with. Therefore, Harry was forced to journey out into the Muggle world for sustenance every other of day, which was when he took the time to practice his new spell.

His year at Hogwarts really had spoiled him. Harry had grown up on cereal, leftovers and simple sandwiches for every meal, but he was now used to a more varied diet. Even if he did manage to teach himself the Stasis Charm, he only knew how to make simple breakfast foods, and not very well at that. At least in comparison to the Automatons. Harry was leaving the Room of Requirement much earlier than he reasonably should because of his stomach.

It was a stupid reason to risk capture, but Harry couldn't argue with his appetite.

Harry attention was diverted from his survey of possible escape routes and the arrival of his pineapple milkshake, when he saw movement in the compact mirror that he had left open on the table before him.

Harry had used a Confundus Charm on the barista of a cafe in York, asking her to keep the second compact mirror, which he had found amongst the Marauders supplies in the Room of Requirement, open and facing away from customers until a man introducing himself as Nicolas Flamel arrived.

"He's here." The barista said, sounding bored, as though she weren't holding a magical mirror. The Confundus Charm really was a versatile thing.

"Thank you, Callie." Harry said politely. Following his previous instructions, she turned the mirror to face the man who had just entered her café, before extending her hand out towards him.

"That'll be £2.50, sir." Callie said, waiting impatiently for the Immortal Alchemist to pay the fee. Despite his dire living situation, Harry had to smother a cheeky smile. The Confundus Charm, while useful, had its limits. Harry had used it to convince Callie to go along with this odd transaction by convincing her that it was a service that her café provided its customers. However, this meant that someone had to pay her for her part and Harry was in another city.

After a long and awkward moment, Harry heard a great sigh and the jingle of coins. "Keep the change," said the deep, accent-less voice, before lifting up the mirror to his eye level, giving Harry his first look at the famous Nicolas Flamel.

"Where are you?" Flamel demanded immediately. "You told me the transaction would take place here."

"Yes, I did." Harry nodded lazily, wanting to seem in control. "But I can't be sure you're not being followed. I'm at a diner in London." Harry gave him the address. "If you're not here in sixty seconds, I'll leave, and you'll never see the Stone again." He ignored the way Flamel's brow furrowed, but Harry continued without giving him a chance to speak. "I think it goes without saying that you're going to have to lose your tail and your Ouroboros before you arrive here. Don't worry, Callie will take good care of it." With that, Harry closed the mirror and began to stare at his brand-new watch, counting down the seconds. It wouldn't be much of a threat if he didn't follow through with his intention to leave, even if he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to do next.

Fortune must have been on his side today, as someone came bursting through the door thirty seconds later, startling everyone in the diner. The man clearly didn't care, as his eyes immediately zeroed in on Harry in his shadowy corner.

As he approached his booth, ignoring the annoyed looks that were being sent his way, Harry couldn't help but be surprised by his appearance. Nicolas Flamel was very different from what Harry would have expected. He had thought that his compact mirror had been malfunctioning or playing tricks on him, but the Immortal Alchemist appeared exactly as he had in the reflected image:

Young. Remarkably so, at least for an almost seven-hundred-year-old Sage.

Flamel was a tall, lean man with shaggy blonde hair that fell past his neck and pale grey eyes that were fixed on Harry as he approached the booth. He had a thin face, an aquiline nose that was crooked in the middle and a lower face was almost hidden by a scruffy, stubbly beard. It matched his look, as he wore the same baggy jeans and flannel shirt that Harry had seen on musicians in music videos. All in all, Flamel looked like he was hardly twenty-five, and he dressed like it too.

"Nicolas Flamel?" Harry asked cautiously.

The man nodded. "That is I." Harry nodded back at him, silently gesturing for the man to sit across from him. While he was becoming increasingly sure that Flamel had sent a decoy in his place, Harry could only know for sure when he made his offer, so he continued as if he believed the man's claim.

"You're a lot younger than I would have expected." Harry pointed out, wanting his confusion to seem legit. "I thought without the Elixir of Life you would begin to die."

"Even with that knowledge, you would still deny me my own property?" Flamel leaned back in his seat, arm thrown over the back of his seat. "That is a level of callousness that I would not have expected from a child." Despite his words his tone remained even, and he spoke English flawlessly with the same tell-tale accent-less pronunciation that marked a Translation Charm user.

"You clearly know very little about children then." Harry said coldly, before continuing in a more even tone. "You'll get the Philosopher's Stone back, but only if you agree to my conditions."

"Conditions!" Flamel laughed, and clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of the other diners as the Alchemist had removed his Ouroboros before his arrival, just as Harry had done. He wanted people to focus their attention on the man who had arrived in a hurry, and who had made a beeline for the strangely dressed child in the back. If this went poorly and Flamel tried to attack him, Harry intended to use the intervening and well-meaning Muggles as a distraction for his hasty exit.

Harry knew it wasn't very noble to use other people as human shields, but nobility was for those who could afford it.

Harry took a long sip of his milkshake before answering. "Yes. Conditions." He kept his face blank, repressing the urge to gag. Pineapple and milk should never go together.

Flamel hummed. "And why shouldn't I take the Stone from you now?" He said this as though overpowering Harry was the simplest thing in the world, and Harry hated the fact that he was right.

However, he had already predicted this likely outcome. "What makes you think I brought the Stone with me?"

"What makes you think I couldn't just pluck its location from your mind?"

Harry smiled grimly. They had reached this point even quicker than he thought they would. "You could use Legilimency on me, but that would only ensure you never see the Stone again."

Flamel quirked a brow. "How so?"

"You should really examine your surroundings when entering a new environment." Harry nodded at his seat, and Flamel stiffened as he began to study the runes that had been etched onto it.

"A Containment Complex?" For the first time, Flamel seemed to be taking him seriously. "And what exactly is it containing?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's nothing harmful." Harry assured him airily. "Just an Anemoi spell to alert the London Citadel. Did you know it's only half a mile away from here? If that Containment Complex breaks, they'll be here in under a minute."

Flamel was clearly surprised. "Why not something that would immediately neutralise me? Wouldn't that be more ideal?" He said this in a manner that was for more patronising than someone who had been trapped by a First Year Runic Complex had any right to be.

Harry managed to squash his annoyance and answered in the same cool tone. "I can't be certain that you didn't ignore my instructions and bring along backup." I can't even be certain that you're the real Flamel, Harry added silently before continuing. "If you cast a single spell the Containment will break and the Aurors will arrive to see you attacking the Boy-Who-Lived and all the Muggles who came to his defence." Harry moved his arm, and Flamel's eyes flickered down to see that he wasn't wearing his Ouroboros either. Even with the Veil in effect, the Muggles will still perceive an adult attacking a child and act accordingly.

Harry continued. "If you even stand without me nullifying the Containment first, the Complex will break and the Aurors will arrive to break up our meeting." He leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his disgusting milkshake just to show how in control he was. "So, are we going to talk, or are you going to continue to make more impotent threats?"

Harry allowed himself to enjoy the brief moment of power as Flamel struggled to keep the incredulity he was feeling from appearing on his face. This was unlikely to ever happen again. The only reason Harry's trick had worked the first time was because of his age. The Alchemist had clearly been expecting a confused and desperate child and instead found a prepared schemer in his place. Flamel wasn't going to underestimate him a second time, so he relished the moment while it was still here.

Flamel sighed and relaxed back against his seat. "You have my undivided attention, Henry Potter."

Harry ignored the use of his formal name and stated bluntly, "I want an Unbreakable Vow."

Flamel chuckled. "We'll need a binder for that, little Henry, and I don't think you want anyone else to be involved with this."

Harry raised a lazy eyebrow. "Don't I?" Before Flamel could ask, Harry called out, "Jeremey?"

Sitting by himself a few booths away was the same surly teenage shop assistant that had been working in Honeydukes the few times Harry had been in there. A Rosewood's student, he worked in Hogsmeade on the weekends, and even without speaking to him, Harry could clearly see that he had little love for his job. As such, Harry had offered him ten Galleons, almost four weekend wages for Jeremey to meet him in London on his day off. It was only after he had cast the Mana-Dampening Charm on himself that Harry finally revealed that he needed a binder for his vow. Jeremy almost chickened out, but Harry appealed to his greed by offering an extra five Galleons for his cooperation.

When Jeremy approached the booth, Harry introduced him to the Alchemist. "This is Jeremey. He'll be our binder today." Harry would have preferred to have simply used the Confundus Charm on the older boy, but like the two parties swearing the vow, the binder needed to be free of all magical compulsions for it to work.

"You have thought of everything." Flamel sighed, before extending his arm. "So be it."

Harry hesitated, as he had expected more of a struggle on Flamel's part, before extending his own arm. They both clasped each other forearms and waited for Jeremey to draw his wand and begin to speak the words that Harry had spent all morning forcing him to memorise.

"In exchange for the safe return of the Philosopher's Stone, do you, Nicolas Flamel, swear to teach Henry James Potter the six Esoteric Arts to the best of your ability?"

Sounding as though he had expected this condition, Flamel simply agreed without any hesitation. "I swear." A thin cord of bright red light shot out the end of Jeremy's wand and bound their forearms together.

"In exchange for the safe return of the Philosopher's Stone, do you, Nicolas Flamel, swear to never bring any lasting harm onto Henry James Potter, be it physical, mental or emotional in nature?"

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of surprise across Flamel's face, but it disappeared when he answered. "I swear." The cord turned a brilliant gold and tightened further.

"In exchange for the safe return of the Philosopher's Stone, do you, Nicolas Flamel, swear to protect Henry James Potter from all those he deems his enemies?"

For the first time, Flamel hesitated. He stared hard at Harry, as though trying to read his thoughts, but Harry felt no brush of Legilimency against his mind. After a long, tense moment, Flamel let out a slow breath and said, "I swear." The cord turned white, a glowed so brightly that Harry had to squint to protect his eyes. It tightened to the point where it was almost excruciating, before it finally dissipated, as though it had never been there in the first place.

There was a strangle silence for a few moments, where Harry and Flamel simply stared at each other, as though seeing one another clearly for the first time. Harry had been surprised from the moment he had agreed to the first of his conditions, as he now knew for sure that he was dealing with the real Nicolas Flamel, as no one else would have been able to agree to that name. Harry wasn't sure why Flamel looked so surprised, but before he could ask, Jeremy spoke up.

"Can I get my money now?"

Harry reached into his Mokeskin pouch, handing Flamel the Philosopher's Stone in an unconcerned manner, before counting out fifteen Galleons to pay Jeremey with. As the older boy was counting out his gold coins, Harry pointed his wand at him. "Impedimenta!" Jeremy froze were he stood, one gold coin hanging in the air from where he had tossed it happily from one hand to the other.

"Could you please use the Memory Charm on him?" Harry asked his new teacher. "I don't want him to run his mouth about what I made him do."

Flamel stared at him. "You had the Stone with you the entire time?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you still on that? It's called a bluff." He explained as he put his bronze Ouroboros back on. "I would have thought someone of your vast age would have come across a similar act at one point or another."

Looking a little amused, but mostly annoyed, Flamel gestured to his seat. "Have you forgotten about your trap? Or was that another bluff?"

In fact, Harry had forgotten about his earlier trap. "Dissimulo!" Harry cast, deactivating the Containment Complex with a wave of his wand. Quicker than a flash, Flamel had drawn his wand, and Harry threw himself to the side so the table would be a barrier between them and pointed his own wand right in the Alchemist's face.

Flamel raised both hands in a gesture of peace, looking alarmed at Harry's reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you." He said in a calming voice, as though he were trying to lure in a cornered cat. "I'm just going to use the Memory Charm like you asked, remember?"

Slowly, Harry sat back up in his seat, feeling embarrassed at his overreaction. The entire meeting, he had been in control, and in just a second that fragile illusion had been shattered. Even with the Unbreakable Vow, he didn't feel safe being alone with another sorcerer. After being fooled by Quirrell for almost a year, Harry didn't think he would feel safe ever again.

Flamel waved his wand in Jeremey's direction, carefully enunciating his incantation in a clear attempt to put Harry at ease. "Obliviate!" Once he had cast the spell, he slowly put his wand away, as though trying to avoid startling Harry again.

Feeling more humiliated than he could ever remember being, Harry released Jeremy from his Impediment Charm but not before placing him under a Confundus Charm, so that he would return to his home without wondering what had brought him to Muggle London in the first place.

Flamel spoke the second Jeremey began to walk away. "You want to become my apprentice because you need protection?"

Harry shook his head. "I want to become your apprentice because I want to learn how to protect myself."

Flamel hummed. "It's been a long time since I've been anyone's master."

"Lord Dumbledore?"

Flamel smiled sadly. "Yes, I did teach him." When he failed to elaborate on that, Harry decided it was time to make his situation clear to his new master. When he finished speaking, Flamel simply said, "Don't worry. I'll deal with all of that."

Harry blinked. "Dumbledore and the Aurors are after me. I killed someone. How are you supposed to deal with all of that?"

Flamel merely smiled at him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The last thing Albus had expected to see when he entered his office was his old master sitting in his chair.

It had been a stressful day of meetings, first with the Board of Governors and then with the Advocate of Education, so he was looking forward to an early night once he had returned to the Headmaster's tower. However, he was brought to a halt the moment he opened the door, as their eyes met and Albus stiffened at the mere sight of Nicolas Flamel.

It had been nearly a decade since they had last seen each other in person, and Albus noted that Nicolas had taken care to keep up with modern Muggle trends as he always did. His master enjoyed following the latest fashions and vernacular as he felt they kept him tethered to the ever-changing world around him.

Albus recovered quickly. "Nicolas! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He closed the door behind him, and sat at his favourite chair by the fireplace, silently inviting Nicolas to join him.

Nicolas not only remained seated behind the desk, but he stared Albus in the eye as he leaned back in the chair and placed both of his boots on the desk. Before Albus could reprimand him, he finally spoke. "I've found Henry Potter."

Having been in the middle of drawing his wand in order to summon tea for his unexpected guest, Albus stiffened for the briefest of moments, but it was enough for him to know that Nicolas had seen his reaction, and therefore there was little use in coming up with a lie or a diverting conversational avenue. "Where did you find him?"

"Exactly where he wanted me to." Albus didn't understand, so Nicolas clarified. "He wrote me a letter which offered the safe return of my missing property." The way he emphasised those last two words told Albus that he was quoting directly from Harry's letter.

Feeling as though he were, once again, a mere student under the eyes of his old master, Albus tried to explain himself. "I didn't think you would have been so upset at the loss of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Didn't think-? Why do you think I asked you to keep it safe in the first place?!" Nicolas sounded upset, but he hadn't got to his feet, so he was nowhere near as angry as he wanted Albus to believe. The Immortal Alchemist was more animated when he was in a true rage.

"It is useless in the hands of another." Albus pointed out. "It holds no intrinsic value."

"It does to me!" Nicolas shot to his feet, and Albus did the same. Blazing white Mana was emanating from his skin in waves, solidifying and pushing furniture out of its way. It was all Albus could do to keep his own fight or flight response under control.

It had been over eight decades since he was an apprentice, but he remembered how painful Nicolas' discipline could be. He didn't want to be taken off guard in his own office. "You are the only person living who knows what the Stone means to me. What it cost to make!"

For the first time, Albus felt shame for his actions. He had nearly forgotten how he had come to know of the Philosopher's Stone's true nature, as Nicolas had comforted him over his sister's demise by sharing his own losses with his apprentice. Not wanting to alienate one of his few true friends, Albus changed the subject. "Is he safe? The boy?"

Nicolas, slowly coming down from his brief loss of control, returned the flung furniture back their previous positions with a wave of his wand. "He is safe and healthy. Physically at least." Before Albus could ask what that meant, Nicolas clarified as he sat back down behind the desk. "I don't know what exactly happened to him a fortnight ago, but it created an awfully paranoid boy."

Albus sighed as he also took his seat. "He would have to be paranoid in order to escape my efforts to locate him." He quickly explained all that had happened over the last academic year, at least all that he was aware of. "I fear Harry may be the only one who has the closest thing to a complete picture of last year's events."

Nicolas hummed thoughtfully. "Well, at least that explains what he meant by him killing someone."

Albus eyebrows shot up. "He told you about that?"

"He seems to believe he has hold over me." Nicolas said, smiling for the first time. "If I were anyone else, an Unbreakable Vow that well written would have left me nothing more than an indentured servant."

"You are failing to reassure me, Nicolas." Albus said. His curiosity overcoming his pride, he got up and took the seat in front of his desk that was usually reserved for troublemaking teenagers. "What Unbreakable Vow?"

"The Unbreakable Vow where he forced me to take him on as my new apprentice." Nicolas explained the meeting in the diner, concluding, "That trap would never have worked if he wasn't twelve years old."

Albus leaned back in his seat, stunned at this turn of events. "He's eleven." He corrected faintly.

Nicolas repeated his words. "You are failing to reassure me, Albus."

"This could be a good thing." Albus finally decided, ignoring Nicolas. "The Magister cannot complain about Harry's safety if he is under your protection." Albus stopped as something Nicolas had said before was only just reaching his ears now. "Wait. No matter the trap, you would have been able to secure the Stone from him without the Aurors identifying you. Why go along with this?"

Nicolas shrugged carelessly, acting the age he appeared to be rather than the age he really was. "His trap was ingenious, but really, I only accepted him because I've never met someone so young willing to kill for his own purposes. He is interesting."

Albus sighed. He had forgotten about Lord Flamel's disturbing desire for first time experiences, something incredibly rare for a man his age. However, just as he was about to remind him that he was dealing with a disturbed child, Nicolas added, "Besides, he reminded me a little of Gerard." Albus fell silent in the face of a reminiscing Nicolas Flamel.

After a few moments, Albus spoke quietly. "Thank you. I appreciate you coming here to tell me all of this."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, his despondency hiding behind his usual layer of mocking amusement. "Hmm? I didn't come here just to tell you all of this, Albus." He chuckled and shook his head. "No, my new apprentice has demanded I go and fetch his things from Hogwarts."

Albus started. "I thought you were returning him here." He tried not to sound too accusatory, but he must have failed judging by the patronising look Nicolas gave him. "You have never taught a child before. All the apprentices you have taught came to you as Masters in at least one field. Harry Potter is still a child. He needs Hogwarts."

"I have no intention of withdrawing him from school, but now that he is my apprentice, he is my responsibility." Nicolas nodded in a matter-of-fact manner. "Little Henry will be residing with me during holidays as my ward, and you will be forwarding any correspondence intended for his guardians to myself." With that he stood and began to make his way towards the door.

Ignoring how familiar it felt to follow Nicolas' footsteps throughout this conversation, Albus got to his feet and followed him to the door. "He is a child! You haven't taken care of one of those in centuries."

Nicolas spoke without turning to face him. "Children need to be clothed, fed and educated. What more is there to know?" He opened the door the second he had reached it, clearly uninterested in continuing their conversation any further.

"Children also need to be protected from their own decisions!" Nicolas froze with one foot out of the room, and even though it was below the belt, Albus let those words hang in the air, not wanting him to forget.

Finally, Nicolas turned to face him with a stiff smile fixed upon his face. "You are all children to me, little Albus." With those parting words, he closed the door firmly behind himself, leaving Albus alone in his office as he had originally wished for, but now his mind was moving quickly, sparing no thoughts for the idea of rest.

Albus began to pace around his office, falling into the familiar process on instinct. He had known that he would have to keep a closer eye on Harry when he was found, but Nicolas' report had only confirmed his worst fears. Perhaps his threat to the Immortal Alchemist had been a mere deception, a simple warning to make Nicolas take him seriously.

Or perhaps, now that he had committed murder once, it seemed like an attractive option for him when things were not going in the direction he had intended. Albus had once known a boy like that, when he had been but a child himself, and he had watched him from both immediate proximity and afar as he fell deeper and deeper into rationalising his own sins to himself.

There was nothing to guarantee that the boy would walk down the same path, but Albus could not allow it to happen again under his purview. The twentieth century had already suffered under two Great Wizarding Wars, and he had no intention of allowing a third to erupt while he was still alive.

His suspicions may be considered unreasonable to some, but he was going to keep Harry Potter under much closer surveillance this coming year.