Ascension: Rogues of the Fallen Sun

by Define Anachronistic

(AU) After the traumatic end to his first year, Harry Potter is a man on the run, pursued by friends, foes, and forces unknown. But that's only the most immediate of his problems. Ancient monsters, Rogues, escaped convicts, and Witch-Hunters are all waiting for him over the horizon. His second year is shaping up to be even crazier than his first.

8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER FOUR

Birthday Surprise

Harry knew that going home with a strange man he had only just met was a bad idea. Lupin's warnings were ringing in his ears as he allowed Flamel to Side-Along Apparate him to his house, but it was a sign of his current desperation that he brushed his usual caution to one side and accepted Flamel's offer of sanctuary.

In fact, Harry had been planning on convincing Flamel to let him stay with him anyway, and he had even thought of a few arguments to make him see things from Harry's perspective if the Unbreakable Vow wasn't enough to convince him, like how it would be easier to teach Harry if he was residing in the same property.

However, these arguments were not necessary, as Flamel had insisted on Harry staying in his home. "You are my apprentice now," he told Harry as they walked out of the diner, "This means that you are my responsibility from now on." Harry, usually prideful in his independence, was too tired to argue with him.

It should have especially rung alarm bells that Flamel was the one who wanted a strange child that he had never met before to reside in his home, but Harry hardly gave it any thought. It was only much later, when he looked back on the summer before his second year, did he realise how defeated the latter half of June had made him. Being relentlessly pursued by forces both known, and unknown had stressed him out to the point that he was jumping at shadows and his nightmares from the gauntlet were still haunting his dreams.

Harry didn't think he would ever forget the moment the life left Quirrell's eyes.

Which was why it was a turn of good fortune for him that Flamel made his offer of sanctuary. Harry's first steps towards recovery took place during the summer that he had spent in one of Flamel's many homes: Brightstone House.

Located in the depths of Brighstone Forest, in the southwest of the Isle of Wight, Brightstone House was a very beautiful, but very odd, structure. A three-story cabin made of both stone and wood, Brightstone wasn't a particularly large house, but it seemed as such to Harry as there were only two people living within it. The house was almost divided in two, as it was built over a babbling brook that ran through the forest, and the building was connected only by a wooden roofed bridge that was only accessible from the ground floor.

The house was located at the bottom of a small, forested valley, enclosed on all sides by steep rocky hills that were covered in a permanent enchanted mist, regardless of the weather. "One of my master's creations," Flamel had proudly proclaimed when Harry had asked about it, "I remain one of the very few who know how to create it." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Never try to cross it alone. The experience would almost certainly drive you insane."

Harry decided it was better not to know.

The mist was only one of the protections surrounding the Brightstone House, as his new master assured him that he had created his own Barriers around his various properties in order to protect the Philosopher's Stone from would be thieves. Along with the natural protection the valley and the forest provided, Brightstone House was as well protected as Hogwarts, but it still took weeks for Harry to begin to feel safe there, as he had once thought that he was safe at Hogwarts too.

Fortunately, Harry didn't have the time to agonise over his security, as Flamel didn't waste any time in beginning his training.

On his first morning at Brightstone, Harry was awoken by a steady knock on his door. He knew he should have been used to waking up in strange locations by now as he had been on the run for weeks before this, but it still took him a minute to remember where he was. This time his confusion was not entirely his own fault, as his room was much different than it had been when he had gone to bed last night.

Surrounded by his things, Harry first thought that he had somehow dreamt the last month and he was now waking up in his dormitory at Hogwarts, but as he quickly sat up, he realised that this wasn't true. Instead of the stone walls of Hogwarts his eyes were greeted with the wooden panels of his new room at Brightstone House. Harry blearily remembered asking Flamel to fetch his things from Hogwarts, and while he had little doubt that the Sage could pull it off, he hadn't actually expected him to do it so quickly, or to unpack it all for him.

The first thing Harry's eyes fixed on was the Burrowing owl that was glaring at him from its perch by the window. For a long moment, Harry returned its stare before raising his hand and saying stupidly, "Hi Argos." Without a sound, Argos swooped out of the window, as though to let Harry know how he had felt when he had left him behind at Hogwarts. Hoping that he was just reading too much into it, Harry didn't bother to call after him as he got out of bed.

Ignoring the clear mechanical knocking on the door, Harry padded around the room, examining his things. Last night, Flamel had given him the freedom to choose his own room, and Harry chose the room at the very top of the house, the one that took up the entirety of the second floor, partly because it was the largest by far, but mostly because he didn't want to sleep on the first floor in one of the rooms that were alongside Flamel's. He needed his some distance.

According to Flamel, Harry's new room was intended to be a study, but Flamel had never bothered using it as he got all his work down in his laboratory in the other half of the house. The ceiling was high and pointed, with dark wooden beams running over the room, supporting the roof above. There was a fireplace along one side and a large bookcase near the door, only half filled with all of Harry's books. The walnut floors felt cool underneath his bare feet as he walked over to the large window that surveyed over the forest to the west. The room was dark, almost gothic in appearance now, but yesterday it had been bathed in reddish-orange light when the sun had set over the rocky hills to the west.

After making sure all his things from Hogwarts had been safely delivered, Harry gave his enchanted globe a spin as he finally moved to open the door, only to find a silver Automaton waiting for him on the other side. The floating machine lacked a face, but even if it did have one, Harry knew it wouldn't have expressed any annoyance at how long he took to open the door.

Being rude to any kind of service was a bad habit to get into, but when it came to Automatons, Harry had to remind himself to remain polite.

"Breakfast?" He asked the floating device. The Automaton nodded and Harry could feel a desire for a Hogwarts quality breakfast well up within him. "Food, please." He pleaded, not fussed with what he at s long as it tasted good. "Lots of it."

When the floating device left, he went for his toiletries first, not hungry enough to skip his morning ablutions. It was only when he had showered and dressed for the day, did he finally descend down the stairs and make his way into the kitchen. Like every other room in the house, it had dark wooden panelling, and was so clean that Petunia would die of envy if she ever saw it. When Harry stepped into the room, the Automaton that had awoken him was cooking at the stove and Flamel lowering his copy of Wizarding World News in order to stare at Harry was his now familiar expression of detached amusement.

"Are all children as lazy as you?" Flamel asked with faux curiosity. "Or are you a special case?"

Harry glanced back at the grandfather clock in the sitting room, just to make sure his watch wasn't telling him the wrong time. It wasn't. "It's not even half-past seven." Harry pointed out, annoyed. "I'm actually an early riser. Compared to other kids, at least."

Flamel made a sound of disbelief. "My father would have tanned my hide if I ever rose after dawn."

Harry took his seat at the table, gratefully pulling various breakfast dishes towards himself. "You were raised when people still thought leeches were the highest form of medicine, so get off your high horse, yeah?"

Flamel tutted as he went back to his newspaper. "Kids these days. No manners whatsoever." Harry rolled his eyes, not really believing his old man act, because even though Flamel was the oldest person in the world, his sense of style, vernacular and knowledge of the Muggle world was too current for him to not be aware of major social changes as he was claiming.

The rest of breakfast was spent in silence, as Harry consumed a Michael sized portion of bacon and eggs as the Automaton just kept putting more and more in front of him. He gave little regard for table manners even though he could feel Flamel silently judging him for it all the while.

When he was finally finished eating, and Flamel lowered his newspaper to the table and indicated for Harry to follow him. He led Harry through the door that opened up to the roofed bridge, and the two walked over the flowing brook towards the other half of the house.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, struggling to keep up with Flamel's quick pace. He had been told yesterday that the laboratory was in the other half of the house, and that he was not allowed inside without express permission. So, it seemed strange to him that Flamel would take him there less than twenty-four hours later.

"My Library." Flamel said, as he waved his hand and the door that they were walking towards opened itself for them. Show off, Harry thought, annoyed at how easily impressed he was, but that quickly disappeared when he saw what was waiting for them on the other side of the doorway.

The entire building was one large, private library. There were three floors, connected by spiral staircases, and the walls were entirely covered by bookshelves that were bursting to the brim with books of varying ages and sizes, separated only by the thinnest of gaps of for windows to allow in some natural light. There were varnished desks with fancy stationary waiting for him, a sitting area near a small fireplace on the ground floor and, strangely enough, a hammock on the second floor.

It was a stupid thing to ask first, but Harry couldn't help himself. "What's the hammock for?"

"Hmm? Oh, I like to take naps and my bed is just so far away." Flamel explained as though this were an ordinary behaviour. "It has an excellent view from the top windows too. However, like my laboratory, you are forbidden from using it."

"No arguments from me." Harry said, making his way over to the nearest desk in order to examine the seemingly blank rolls of parchment. "Where is your laboratory anyway?"

"Just downstairs." Flamel nodded towards a small door to his left that Harry had failed to notice upon his entrance. "It's underground. Better to keep the explosions from disturbing the rest of the house."

Harry decided it was in his best interest not to question that. "So, why did you bring me here again?"

"I brought you here so you could begin your preparations."

Harry blinked. "Preparations for what, exactly?"

"For your test, of course." Flamel smiled deviously. "That trick you pulled on me yesterday was impressive, yes, but it isn't enough for me to accept you as my student."

"The Unbreakable Vow-"

"Ensures that I see you taught and trained to the best of my ability." Flamel interrupted. "That doesn't necessarily mean I have to teach you personally. If I believe that another could be better suited in teaching you, I can foist you off to them instead."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Are you really willing to bet your life on that?"

"Yes, I am." Flamel said, stone faced.

Seeing that he was serious, Harry tried to change tact. "I came to you for help, and you agreed. You've trained the best and I want-"

"You want to be the best too." Flamel finished for him, as though he had heard it all before. "Do you have any idea how many people have come to me over the centuries, asking for my instruction?"

"Dozens?"

"Hundreds." Harry took a sharp breath. "Do you know how many I've accepted?" Harry said nothing this time, as he had been so far off before. "Fourteen."

"You're joking." Harry refused to believe it.

"Oh? How many of my students can you even name?" Harry didn't say anything, as he could only think of six that he had learned about in History of Magic, and of them only Lord Dumbledore and Lady Wen were still alive. "Be grateful, little Henry. You have my attention, which means you passed the first test. If you manage to pass the second, I will know that teaching you will be worth the effort."

Partly because he was annoyed at being thought of as unworthy, but mostly because he was afraid that further protest will make him seem like a child, Harry knew he had no choice but to accept this new reality. "Alright then. Let's hurry up and get this over with so we can get to the actual training part." Harry said this with as much confidence as he could muster, but Flamel quickly waved him down.

"Slow down, Little Henry." Harry felt a twinge of annoyance at the sound of his formal name, but he felt that protesting would only make it stick. "You will have exactly one week to prepare for our duel."

Harry felt what little confidence he had gathered shrivel and die inside of him. "Duel? You?" He was so nervous at the idea that he was fumbling over his words. "You want me to duel you?"

"I don't expect you to win. Great Sage, no!" Flamel assured him with a chuckle. "Just try not to lose too quickly, all right?" He turned and began to make his way to the door. "Our duel will take place at dawn, seven days from now in the forest clearing closest to the house. The entire library is at your disposal until then, so try to prepare accordingly. All right?" He didn't wait for an answer, as he immediately exited the building the moment he was done talking, leaving Harry to stare at the now closed door in despondency.

After a minute Harry's despondency slowly began to turn into a firm resolve to succeed. Who cared if so many would-be apprentices failed Flamel's second test? Who cared if Flamel was going to compare him against his previous apprentices? Harry had survived and overcome far worse things than an impromptu examination. He will not just do as well as Lady Wen and Lord Dumbledore, but he will exceed their performances.

Harry knew deep down that this was a clear lie, but he had long since learned to encourage himself, as no one else was likely to do it.

Harry began his examination of the library, starting with the ground floor and working his way up. Much to his annoyance, the books were arranged in a haphazard manner, with no correlation between subjects, authors or even publishing dates. They seemed to have been stacked in order of convenience for Flamel, but what this convenience was, Harry could not say.

He had tried to get Flamel's attention, either for him to explain his unusual cataloguing system, or to at least teach him a spell that would allow him to arrange the books in a reasonable order, but the Alchemist had ignored him, choosing instead to focus on his Sunday crossword. When Harry tried to enlist the Automaton's help in arranging the books in order of subject, Flamel ordered it to not help Harry with his studies at all. Frustrated, Harry returned to the library to try to figure it out for himself.

However, it only took an hour for Harry to accept that nothing in the library would be of any use to him. Not as he was right now anyway. While the library of the oldest man in the world was a treasure trove of information, it had little practical use for a student with only a single year of magical education under his belt. Harry supposed that made sense. Why would Flamel need school level texts in his personal library?

Still, this left Harry with little option but to return to his room and go through his own books. He spent the rest of the morning sitting at his desk, combing through his Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts books trying to find any kind of spell that would help him in a duel against a man that had fought in all six Great Wizarding Wars, but he found nothing. However, just as he was about to give up and return to the library, Harry found a note in one of Miranda Goshawk's many works: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3.

The Locomotion Charm is an extremely versatile spell, not only in the way it is used, but in how it can be adapted in various branches of the Esoteric Arts.

The Locomotion Charm has been used to create various charms, transfigurations, and martial spells. All the way from simple household spells, all the way to dangerous offensive spells used in the duelling ring, this charm is as versatile as they come.

Harry froze where he sat, afraid that any kind of movement or distraction will kill the idea forming in his mind in its infancy. Slowly, as the notion solidified, he felt confident that, as he was, this was the best he could do right now. He just needed some time, and luckily, Flamel had given him a week of it.

Harry returned to the library to search for the appropriate book. It took him hours to find, even though he had only stopped to eat the sandwich that he had asked the Automaton to bring to him as the sun began to descend in the sky, but he finally found the spell that he had been looking for. He had only skimmed over them before hand, months ago, but he still remembered them as they seemed like useful spells to one day add to his arsenal.

In Flamel's copy of Achievements in Enchanting Harry found the charm that he had been looking for:

The Animation Charm is the pinnacle of all animation spells. Invented by Merwyn the Malicious in the late twelfth century, the Animation Charm was the result of the frustration sorcerer students the world over felt at having to master different kinds of animation spells for different objects.

Normally a creator of Martial magic, Merwyn reportedly shared this frustration and took the time to invent the all-in-one animation spell: Piertotum Locomotor.

Harry put one of the bookmarks that Flamel had left on the desk as he turned to his own copy of Jinxes for the Jinxed where he read:

Invented by Cassius Mercer for the 1379 World Duelling Championships, the Tempest Jinx is used to create a localised thunderstorm. The use of it during the 1379 finals assured Mercer his victory, as atmospheric spells had not been created before then, and no counters were known at the time.

Harry finally left the library long after the sun had set, carrying a roll of parchment in one hand as he did so. Stopping only to scarf down the lamb chops and potatoes that he had told the Automaton to keep warm for him, Harry climbed up to his new room and collapsed into his bed without even taking off his shoes. He hadn't even done anything strenuous today, but hours spent searching hundreds of books for a single spell had turned his brain into mush, so he was asleep less than a minute after his head touched his pillow.

Harry spent the next six days following a certain pattern. He would wake up at various times, whenever he felt ready to take on the day, and then he would head down to the kitchen to eat whatever breakfast he had told the Automaton to make for him the night before. After he was done satisfying his morning appetite, Harry dressed in his Silver Spears uniform before heading outside.

While the uniform was beginning to feel a little tight, as it was designed to be form fitted and he had grown a little since last December, it was still better than practicing in his Muggle clothes or his school uniform.

On his second day at Brightstone House, Harry had found the clearing that Flamel had indicated, but as it was too close to the house for his liking, he found another one that was closer to the edge of the valley, a few miles away from the house. It was unlikely that Flamel would take the time away from his experiments and research to come and spy on his progress, but Harry didn't want to take the chance.

After he had practiced until he was too exhausted to continue, he hobbled back to the house, everyday regretting his decision to practice so far away from his both his bed and sustenance. Still, as the week went on, he grew more and more confident in his odds of impressing Flamel. His Blackthorn wand was living up to his highest expectations, amplifying his Mana rather than hindering it, so he felt assured that he would perform better during the duel on Sunday than he had in any duel before then.

Harry had decided to turn in early on Saturday, claiming his desire to save his strength for tomorrow's duel when Flamel shot him a quizzical look, but he really wanted to tip things in his favour. Waking up a few minutes after midnight, Harry snuck out of the house under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, heading towards the clearing where the duel was meant to take place at dawn. After little more than an hour spent in the forest, he returned back to the house to get in a few more hours rest.

"The duel will begin when the sun's first gentle rays land upon us." Flamel said, far too chipper for this time in the morning.

Harry was usually a morning person, but in his haste to train as much as he could in the last week, he hadn't done the best job in maintaining his sleep schedule. His midnight preparations and frequent nightmares hadn't helped much with his sleep deprivation either. All in all, he was rather annoyed with Flamel's early morning cheer as the two stood opposite one another in the forest clearing.

"Sun's gentle rays?" Harry made a face at him. "Why can't we just say "Ready, steady, go!" like civilised gentlemen?"

"Because I enjoy the gravitas." Flamel sighed. "I have so few pleasures in life, little Henry. Don't take my flair for the dramatic away from me too."

"Fine, fine. There's no need to-" Harry cut himself off as a sudden burst of sunlight streaming through the lowest tree leaves, struck him in the eye. On instinct, Harry fumbled for his wand, drawing it just in time. Flamel was almost a foot taller than he was, and in the briefest of moment in which the sunlight reached his face before Harry's, he had already drawn his wand and aimed a non-verbal spell right at him.

Harry hadn't expected Flamel to be an even harsher duelling instructor than Voldemort, but that underestimation was what cost him a good start. "PROTEGO!" He bellowed the Shield Charm's incantation desperately, having been caught off guard by the sudden and dirty attack. Voldemort had always cast his spells verbally in order to give Harry a fighting chance, but he was only just realising that Flamel was playing by a different set of rules.

The good news was that the non-verbal spell didn't turn out to be an Illusion Spell, as his Shield Charm would have been next to useless against it. The bad news was that Flamel's spell was so powerful that it tore right through his shield as though it wasn't even there.

Harry found himself being flung into the air, spinning rapidly, head over heels, three times, until he landed in a very painful and undignified, heap on the forest floor fifty feet from where he had started. Harry got his wand arm out from under himself and jabbed it at an unimpressed looking Flamel. "Fumos!" He painfully croaked.

The clearing was overtaken by a dense layer of grey smoke, obscuring Harry from Flamel's vision. The Alchemist chuckled and waving his wand in a lazy manner, vanishing the smoke with ease. "Come now, little Henry. If you want to be my apprentice then you're going to have to do a lot-" He stopped speaking, as he realised, he could not see the boy anywhere in the clearing.

Harry clenched his teeth as he fled from the clearing. He hadn't wanted to use his Invisibility Cloak during the exam, especially as he had never felt it necessary to whip it out against his old Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but he knew that he wouldn't have lasted ten seconds against Flamel without it. Harry hated to be coddled, but he was more than a little angry that his potential master for being so harsh with him. Or at least he was for about two seconds anyway.

Harry had known that, logically, Voldemort had been taking it easy with him last year as a way to get on his good side. He had realised that before he had even known that Quirrell was actually being possessed, as he had assumed the young professor was simply trying to make a name for himself by training the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry wasn't really a fan of using his fame to get special treatment, but it seemed stupid to turn away good help due to pointless pride.

Flamel wasn't interested in his fame. He had access to more wealth and fame than Harry could offer him, so if he was going to impress him and become his next apprentice, then he was going to have to pull out all the stops in order to go toe to toe with a Sage.

No pressure, Potter.

Harry stopped running after a minute and made his way back to the clearing, wanting to circle behind Flamel and take him by surprise. When he finally made it back, he saw that his adversary was leaning against a tree, looking rather bored. Supressing his annoyance at not being taken seriously, (Had he even bothered to track him down?) Harry raised his wand overhead and cast, "Meteolojinx!"

The very sudden, and very localised, thunderstorm took over the clearing in an instant. Grey clouds hung lower than the tree branches, letting loose sheets of rain which obscured even Harry's vision, and crackles of electricity were shooting through the air, one even striking the tree Flamel was leaning against.

Taking advantage of the visual cover as he had planned, Harry didn't waste any time in commanding his enchanted guardians to charge directly into the clearing in order to stampede Flamel.

Last night, Harry had used the Severing and Summoning Charms to gather piles of wood, and when he was finally satisfied with the amount that he had collected, he had used the Furniture Transfiguration Spell to create nearly two dozen school desks and chairs, which he then cast the much-practiced Animation Charm on before finally obscuring the lot with Disillusion Charms.

Essentially, he had created an invisible army for himself.

Harry hadn't been all that sure of his idea in the days leading up to the duel, and he was much less sure of it now that he was in the thick of it, but it was the best idea that he had, so he threw everything he could behind it.

Under the control of the Animation Charm, the stampeding desks and chairs were far more organised in their attack than they would have been under the Attacking Charm. In the brief windows that Harry glimpsed between Flamel removing the Tempest Jinx and him recasting it, he could see that the Immortal Alchemist was momentarily confused as to what was going on.

Of course, this confusion didn't last forever.

Between the third recasting of the Tempest jinx and the fourth, Harry noticed that the animated furniture had been made visible and between the fourth and fifth recasting, he felt his stomach drop as he glimpsed the broken and splintered furniture that was littered around the clearing.

Harry froze at the sight of it, staring at the shattered remains of a week's hard labour, and completely forgetting to recast the Tempest Jinx as Flamel began to chuckle from where he was still leaning against the same tree as before. "Really, little Henry? Is that the best you could do?" He continued to laugh, shaking his head. "I don't even know why I expected more from you. There's nothing impressive about you at all."

Perhaps it was the stress of the last few weeks, or maybe it was his sleep deprivation that was prompting him into poor decision making, or it could have just been his annoyance at having his full name being thrown in his face so mockingly by a man that still refused to live up to his part of the bargain, but Harry retaliated by doing something rather stupid.

Harry pointed his wand right at Flamel's taunting face and spat out, "Defodio!"

Despite the fact that Harry had only practiced the Gouging Charm a few times since Robert had first used it against him in their duel amongst the other Silver Spears, it shot out of the end of his wand as well as any spell as he had cast before and sailed across the clearing and right towards Flamel. As Harry had expected, the Alchemist conjured up a lazy Shield Charm in front of himself, mouth already open to goad Harry once more, but something neither of them expected happened.

The Gouging Charm broke right through the Shield Charm and struck Flamel in the face.

Harry let out a shout as Flamel's body slumped to the ground, his entire face and half of skull missing from his remains. Without removing his Cloak, he darted into the clearing.

"Not again, not again, not again," he whispered underneath his breath, as he hurried forward into the clearing, disregarding the newly created mud as he slipped and slid his way towards the Very Mortal Alchemist. Swallowing his nerves and ignoring the voice of reason that was telling him that there was nothing that he could do, Harry bent down to roll over Flamel's body, but he froze as his hands moved through his remains.

It was an illusion.

Before Harry could little more than straighten up, he felt the tip of a wand poke in between his shoulder blades. Ignoring the urge to freeze, Harry couldn't help but ask, "How can you see me?"

"I can see your footsteps clear as day in the mud." The real Flamel pointed out. "Why else do you think I allowed you to cast so many Tempest Jinxes?"

Harry groaned, removing his Invisibility Cloak. "Was an Illusion Spell really necessary? Weren't things tipped towards your favour enough already?"

"No." Flamel smiled shamelessly. "I just wanted to remind you that you are not the only trickster present."

"This is about the Containment Complex?" Harry looked at him in disgust. "You are so petty." As he folded the Invisibility Cloak over the crook of his arm, Harry couldn't help but notice Flamel's eyes flicker to it in curiosity.

"Where did you get that Cloak from?" Flamel asked. He sounded almost confused.

"It's a family heirloom." Harry said confidently, even though he had no evidence of it being any such thing. "Why do you ask?"

"I've seen it before." Flamel muttered. "I'm certain it was in my master's possession."

Harry sent the Cloak back to his cherry wood box with just a thought. As it shimmered and vanished, Harry said, perhaps more than a little defensively. "You must be mistaken. It belongs to the Potters, which means it belongs to me." Harry looked up at him coldly. Flamel could refuse to teach him if he wanted, but Harry would sooner kill him like he killed Quirrell than hand over one of the few tethers he had to his family.

Perhaps sensing his sudden rage, Flamel blinked and clapped his hands together, smiling as though he hadn't just called one of Harry's ancestors a thief. "Well that actually went much better than I expected!"

Harry frowned, suspiciously. "What do you mean? I didn't even come close to getting you."

"You landing an attack on me was never even a possibility." Flamel said this in the same way Quirrell had last year. Harry wondered if all talented duellists were as full of themselves. Then again, Harry knew he certainly would be if he possessed a similar level of prowess. "This entire exercise was to give me the chance to understand your routine. The duel was just for fun."

Harry was beginning to lose his patience. "What?" He asked, darkly. "My routine?"

"It is utterly abysmal." Flamel nodded, smiling as though he were unaware of Harry's growing ire. "I've met infants who know how to take better care of themselves than you do."

"What is your problem?" Harry demanded. Perhaps he was still shaken from the gruesome illusion he had been forced under, but Harry was getting sick of Flamel's antagonising attitude.

As though he were finally aware of Harry's indignation, or finally acknowledging it, Flamel dropped he smile and began to speak seriously to him. "I am not jesting when I tell you that I am impressed with your performance." The Alchemist said with such sincerity that it gave Harry an emotional whiplash. "You are much, much younger than any previous student I have ever had, so I didn't expect such a good showing from you. I promise you that I will do my utmost to stop underestimating the capacity of your creativity." He gave a little bow at this, his head lowered but his face still visible, and it was without a smile.

Off balance due to this sudden show of candour, Harry could do little more than nod and mutter, "Err, all right then."

"This was never a test of your worth, little Henry, but an in depth look into your training routine." Flamel explained as he straightened up and began the walk back towards Brightstone House, indicating that Harry should follow him. "A little deception was required on my part, as I needed your behaviour to be authentic so I could tell you on what you needed to improve upon."

Harry's remaining uneasiness with Flamel's show of sincerity quickly fled when he heard that last part. All he had wanted since he had first come up with the idea of blackmailing his way into an apprenticeship was to be told exactly what he needed to improve upon. Hurrying forward to catch up to his master, Harry looked up at him as he fell into step beside him and simply said, "Teach me."

Flamel glanced down at him with a much kinder smile than any Harry had seen him wear before. "Oh, I intend to."

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

Harry's newfound excitement about his apprenticeship met a swift and sudden death.

Flamel spent the rest of that Sunday explaining all the little things that Harry had done incorrectly that week, revealing that he had kept a far closer eye on him than Harry could have ever guessed. Under normal circumstances, Harry wouldn't have minded it if a Sage pointed out all the flaws in his training process, as it could be seen as a way for a more experienced sorcerer to pass down their wisdom, but things didn't quite go that way. He had expected Flamel to teach him secret spells and techniques to master spells and to grow his Mana Reserves, but what he learned was far less interesting.

"Health is as important to sorcerers as it is to Muggles," Flamel began to lecture as he led Harry into the kitchen where the Automaton was hard at work making lunch, "and health begins with what you eat."

"A diet?" Harry looked up at him, unimpressed. "That's the secret to power?"

"There is no secret to power." Flamel said this in such a way that Harry had the impression that he would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't trying to give off a teacher vibe. "Good living is merely the secret to success."

Harry sighed, deciding to go along with it for now. It wasn't like he had any other options. "How so?" He asked as politely as he could.

"You were raised among Muggles, yes?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "Then you know first-hand how frail and sickly they are."

Harry nodded, and repeated what Cedric had told him when they first met. "We're not as fragile as Muggles."

Flamel hummed as he nodded in agreement. "Yes! But can you guess why?"

Interested now, Harry began to rack his brain, before realising that the answer was obvious. "Mana. We have it and they don't."

"Your half right." Flamel waved his hand in a way to show that he was unimpressed with Harry's answer. "All living creatures have Mana, as it is synonymous with life. The difference between us and our non-magical brethren is that we are lucky enough to be born with the capability of tapping into our Mana Reserves."

Harry nodded slowly, vaguely remembering Professor Flitwick saying something similar. Eager to remain impressive in his new teacher's eyes, Harry tried to figure out where he was going with this. "So, because we're born with the ability to use Mana, we can avoid illnesses all together? Or at least the ones without magical origins?" When Flamel nodded, Harry continued with his train of thought. "Is that because of our intent?" At Flamel's pleased nod, Harry continued eagerly. "Intent is a focal point in casting magic, even when you are unaware it can even be classified as such." He remembered his childhood experimentations with his abilities. "Because everyone wishes to avoid illness, our Mana responds accordingly and protects us from them, even from a young age."

"Precisely!" Harry tried to not let his pleasure show, as Flamel gave a satisfied clap of the hands. "But our Mana is limited. No one, not I, not the Magister, not even Voldemort, has access to an unlimited supply of Mana. For you, a growing child who already has so little Mana at his disposal, should not spend it without care."

"You're saying I should take better care of myself?" When Flamel nodded, Harry asked, "So, everything I do that could have a negative effect on my health, like not eating or sleeping properly, will only make me weaker?" He needed clarification on this, as he was beginning to feel upset again.

"Yes," Flamel said bluntly. "Your body will grow as it should, but your potential as a sorcerer would be squandered for it."

Harry's narrowing eyes was the only outside indication of his sudden self-directed irritation. He had been aware that the healthy diet that Hestia had praised had been thrown out the window the moment he had left the Dursley's home, only to be replaced with a food selection that Dudley would be proud of. After a childhood where he had found confectionary hard to come by, Harry had gone overboard with treats purchased from Honeydukes and had taken special care to avoid any fruit and vegetables when eating at the Great Hall. The idea that he had been shooting himself in the foot the entire time was more frustrating than he could say.

"All right then. Where do I start?"

When Harry had said those words, he had resolved himself to a life of bland tasting food, like the diets that Petunia had often gone on when one of her friends made a sharp observation on her already rail thin figure. However, Harry was surprised to find that his diet didn't change that much at all.

He began to notice that his meats were leaner, less breaded foods became available, and more greens found their way onto his plate without him putting them there, but he could never be sure who did it. Flamel, sitting across the kitchen table from him, didn't so much as wave his hand and Harry would have noticed if the Automaton came anywhere near him. Still, he had accepted that it was for his own good, so he ate it all without complaint.

Fruit became always available in Brightstone House, and it was recommended to him instead of his usual favoured snacks. Harry was a little offended that Flamel felt the need to eat the fruit as well, as though Harry was an infant who wouldn't eat his baby food unless he saw someone else enjoy it first.

"I am simply demonstrating my solidarity with your struggle." Flamel said when Harry voiced these annoyed thoughts out loud one morning over breakfast. "No one in the history of the world has struggled as much as you are now. Eating that apple makes you a hero, little Henry."

It was only the fact that he was acutely aware of how utterly outclassed he was in this household that prevented him from chucking said apple at Flamel's head. Harry hadn't realised just how quickly he had grown used to eating a least one sugary treat a day, as the Never-Melt Ice Cream he had enjoyed with every dinner during his first week at Brightstone House remained in the front of his thoughts throughout each day.

Flamel's thoughtful gesture helped his sugar cravings though. When Harry had mentioned in an offhand manner that pineapple had always been his favourite fruit, he had quickly found that the house was stocked with large quantities of it. At least once a day, Harry and Flamel would take a break from their various activities in order to share a fresh pineapple between them, as they discussed all sorts of subjects while enjoying Harry's favourite treat.

"How do you keep them so fresh?" Harry asked one afternoon, as he and Flamel sat by the brook, eating slices of pineapple under the hot sun.

"Stasis Charm." Flamel said, as he chomped down on the fruit with a gusto that Harry had become accustomed to. He had noticed that Flamel did everything he enjoyed with gusto. "I'll teach it to you." He said through a mouthful of pineapple. "That way, you can keep snacks with you." He proceeded to lick the pineapple juices from his fingers as though he couldn't see the napkins that the Automaton had provided them with.

Harry tried to pretend he was disgusted, but he couldn't supress his snorting laughter at the ancient man's unexpected nasty behaviour.

Flamel pushed him into eating more meals throughout the day, and Harry quickly grew to enjoy it. He found that he was hardly ever hungry anymore, as his meals always managed to arrive precisely when he needed them to rather than when he wanted them to, so he didn't have any opportunities to forget.

Which was good, as he was busier than ever before.

The day after the duel, Harry awoke after a restless night's sleep to find the Automaton waiting for him by the end of his bed. Before he could say a word, the soundless mechanism laid a bundle of clothes by his feet and floated out the door. Accepting that he would never grow completely used to Automatons' uncanny stealth, Harry scrambled to the foot of his bed only to find a black t-shirt that was made out of a soft, stretchy material that he had never felt before and a pair of baggy shorts. Glancing at the door, he spotted a pair of thin plimsoles that had been laid out for him.

It was easy enough to guess what Flamel wanted, but Harry could tell by just looking at the shirt that it was at least a size too small. Dressing himself instead in his usual Muggle-made summer wear, Harry headed downstairs for breakfast, already wary of what the day would bring. He was right to do so, as he stopped dead in the entrance to the kitchen at the sight that lay before him.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

Flamel glanced up from his breakfast, looking unabashed at being seen wearing such a tight black vest. "I could ask you the same thing." He glanced at the Automaton. "Didn't you lay out the correct clothes for him?" At the machine's answering nod, he turned back to Harry with a frown. "Turn around and put it on. We have a long day ahead of us."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him and deliberately sat at the kitchen table across from him. It was best to get Flamel out of the habit of thinking he could order Harry to do anything that he already did not want to do as early as possible. "Those clothes are ridiculous." Harry said bluntly, reaching for his morning toast and scrambled egg whites, regretfully avoiding the bacon that he knew was only on the table as another test. "You look ridiculous. I'm not an expert in decorum or anything, but I'm fairly certain that having your armpits exposed at the breakfast table is some kind of faux pas. I can train in this better than I can in that."

Flamel looked at him with a bizarre level of consideration. "You're going to make things difficult for me, aren't you?" Harry his smirk behind his glass of orange juice. "Go back an examine your clothes more carefully and you will see that they are actually Artifices. This training gear is used by both professional duellists and Aurors alike." That shut Harry up, and after a quick and awkwardly silent breakfast, he hurried back to his room only to find that Flamel was right. Both the stretchy t-shirt and baggy shorts had the same minute writing that all Artifices had, only it was difficult to see against the black material.

"What does the Runic Complex do?" Harry asked, as he followed Flamel outside with his hand on his hip holster, ready to duel.

Flamel eyed him. "I would have thought you would have already known." When Harry looked up at him blankly, he elaborated. "That duelling uniform you own has the same enchantments woven into it."

"How many enchantments?" Harry was forced to ask, as the only two that he was aware of re the ones that hid the identities of the members and another that prevented it from being torn.

"The training gear softens physical blows, dispels sweat and grime, and prevents it from being torn or cut." Flamel elaborated as they made their way back to the clearing from the day before. "The last enchantment, and the most important for a boy your age, is that it grows along with you. To a certain extent anyway."

Harry perked up, as this sounded familiar. "Like my Hogwarts uniform." When Flamel gave a nod, Harry frowned at him. "That can't have been cheap. How much do I owe you?"

Flamel huffed a laugh. "I have no need for money, little Henry. Besides, as long as you are my apprentice, you are my responsibility."

Before Harry could break down exactly how he felt about that (he didn't like the idea of relying on Flamel for both shelter and money) they finally reached the clearing and his mind found other, more interesting things to think about.

The clearing had been transformed into a bizarre, and rather dangerous looking, playground. There were bars at various heights all around the clearing and wooden beams at different angles, some that were slopes that went to nowhere and others that floated parallel to the ground. To Harry's left there was a dozen Automatons who were each holding a Zonko's Toy Wand, and to his right there was a sheer wall made of rock, at least a hundred feet high, with little cracks in the surface that had tiny little Bowtruckles living inside.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know what I'm looking at." As he stepped into the clearing, he noticed that even the ground had been transformed, as it was soft underneath his plimsoles, as though Flamel had applied a Cushioning Charm to it.

"This is where you will come every morning to begin your training." Flamel smiled as he looked at the transformed clearing, with the air of a painter who was presenting his masterpiece. "I will teach you several calisthenics in order to- Where are you going?"

Harry who had turned around and begun to walk back to the house, glanced back. "Exercises? Physical exercises? I came to you because I thought you could teach me things about magic that no one else could. If I wanted to get muscular, I'd have joined a gym. The Muggles have plenty of those."

Flamel sighed, shaking his head at him. "You're not taking this seriously."

"No, you're not taking this seriously!" Harry stomped up to him in order to shout right up at him. "I told you what happened at Hogwarts! You know that I have to free my parents! That I have to protect myself against Voldemort and whoever else tries to kill me! But instead, you're here offering me solutions that anyone else can. You're wasting my time!" Harry began to breathe deeply as soon as the last word was out, but instead of feeling better about the release, he just felt even worse. It was though there had been a wound just underneath the surface of the skin, but he had now exposed it, leaving it to fester in the open air.

Flamel had remained silent in the face of Harry's tirade, and a few moments after he had stopped shouting, he asked, rather equably, "Are you quite finished?" Slowly, sensing from his tone that Flamel would remain silent until he gave his assent, Harry gave a stiff nod, and he began to explain his reasoning. "I could begin to teach you all the secrets of the Esoteric Arts that I have learned over the centuries, but as you are now it would be beyond useless in your hands." Before Harry could even begin protest that, Flamel continued. "A strong and adaptable body is the most basic foundation that all great duellists build their careers upon. Strength, quickness, and dexterity. I cannot name a single successful duellist who doesn't possess all these qualities in spades."

Frowning in consideration, Harry examined the clearing more carefully, and was reminded of the equipment that he had glimpsed in the Auror Cadet Training Hall back in Hogwarts. Now that he thought about it, every experienced duellist that he had seen in action had moved with an uncanny speed and had shown quick reflexes. In the first duel he had ever watched, Eliza Hawthorn had run the length of the Quidditch pitch in under twenty seconds, and in both of his duels against Robert Hillard, the older boy had pressed used his superior speed and reflexes to his advantage and to Harry's detriment.

Apparently reading the dawning realisation upon Harry's face, Flamel began to smile once more. "Allow me to show you what you will be practicing every morning." Flamel began to demonstrate a series of stretches that seemed very familiar to Harry already. He said as much.

"The stretches you performed for Quidditch are quite good, but they focus too much on the core of your body, so that players can grow to control their brooms for long periods of time. We will be giving an equal amount of attention to our limbs in order to improve our overall flexibility."

The stretches seemed simple enough at first, but after almost ten minutes, they slowly grew increasingly difficult and almost painful to hold, but Harry didn't want to admit that he was struggling.

Fortunately, Flamel seemed to notice Harry's silent struggle and stopped just as he began to demonstrate a stretching exercise where he kept his left leg flat and straight on the ground behind him while keeping a single calf at a right angle in front of himself on the ground, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Harry fell over, onto the soft ground, breathing deeply and rubbing his sore body as Flamel jumped back onto his feet with a far too much energy.

"Alright then! Now onto the warmup!" With his pride now out the window, Harry groaned in despair.

The entire morning was spent with Flamel guiding him through a specific exercise routine that he had developed specifically for Harry. When he had heard this, Harry gave him a sceptical glance. "What qualifies you for that?"

Flamel smiled, unoffended. "I'm a fully qualified Healer."

Harry sighed. "Of course you are."

Slowly, every piece of equipment in the clearing revealed its purpose, from avoiding the mischievous nibbles of the Bowtruckles while rock climbing in order to improve his reflexes, to standing on the floating wooden beam as the Automatons fired balls of paint at him from every angle and he did his best to dodge even with his limited footing. Everything in the clearing was there for a reason. Even the cushioned ground was there to teach him how to safely fall.

As Flamel carefully demonstrated every exercise for Harry to imitate, and he corrected every flaw he saw as he wanted Harry to learn things the "right way". To his credit, Flamel actually took the time to explain the benefits of each exercise, which immediately put him near the top of the list of best teachers Harry had ever had. It was clear to see that he had spent the last week thinking about Harry's training carefully, which only left the boy feeling awful for his earlier outburst.

That feeling of regret turned into annoyance when he learned the exercises didn't end with the equipment in the clearing.

"If I need to build stamina, shouldn't I just go for a jog?" Harry asked as they stood on the grassy embankment. He was trying to hide how unsettled the idea of swimming in the brook made him. His experience with the Wampus had dragged his old childhood fear of open water to the forefront of his mind, so much so that a day didn't go by without him thinking about it.

"No. Duelling is high intensity sport, which requires quick, explosive movements." Flamel explained this as though it were as simple as the sky being blue. "Jogging requires a sustained, low intensity effort, which is the opposite of what you want your body to learn. I'll walk you through some quick sprint exercises after this. And some uphill sprints too, so you can build muscle endurance. But for now…" He gestured to the brook, before diving right in. With a great sigh, Harry followed.

It wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected. In fact, it was rather fun. While underwater, Flamel had shown him the Barriers that he had placed two hundred feet apart, invisible boundaries that would prevent Harry from being carried off by the current but leave the river and its aquatic life unaffected. All that was left was to teach Harry how to swim.

Harry protested this. "I already know how to swim!"

"Who taught you? A cat?" Flamel tutted. "Your movements are too excessive. Here, do as I do." He began to demonstrate a smooth breaststroke for Harry to mimic.

Once they were done swimming, they stopped for a small, late lunch, and Flamel returned his Ouroboros to him. "I didn't even realise I wasn't wearing it." Harry said doubtfully, as he slipped it back on. "Actually, I didn't even know it could fall off."

"Not every enchantment is perfect, little Henry." Flamel said, handing him a shallow dish of sliced pineapple. "You should take better care of your things." Harry eyed him suspiciously, but he quickly let it go as he was distracted by his appetite.

After lunch, they continued on with the day's lessons. "Draw your wand." Flamel said simply, as they stood in the wide-open space between the back of Brightstone House and the treeline, the only thing there besides them was a table which held an incongruous assortment of items. Once Harry had happily done so, Flamel continued. "Cast every spell you know." He waved his arm at the small field around them.

Feeling as though he were being tested again, Harry levelled his wand at the distant treeline, and began with the most impressive spells of his arsenal. Martial Spells first, but when Flamel gave no visible reaction, he moved onto Transfiguration Spells and Charms, before finally casting Illusion Spells at the creatures he had just Transfigured into existence. It took less than five minutes to cast every spell he knew, which was a realisation that made him feel a lot less happy then when he had begun this exercise.

When Flamel still gave no reaction, Harry demanded, "Well?"

Flamel quirked an eyebrow. "Well, what?" He gestured to the now damaged area. "Do it again."

"What? Why?"

"Did you think that your body is the only thing that requires exercise? Your Mana Reserves are like a muscle, one that must be pushed to its limits in order to grow."

Harry scowled. "I already know that! I was hoping you could teach me something that would make the process go a little faster."

Flamel had the nerve to laugh. "There is no secret to gaining more power! Otherwise, everyone would have it." When Harry's scowl remained on his face, the Alchemist sobered up and began to explain properly. "You have heard of the First Law of Magic?"

Harry nodded. "The Law of Equal Exchange."

"Yes. But it is not just a Law of Magic, but of the world itself." Harry opened his mouth to ask, but Flamel continued before he could ask him to clarify. "In order to learn something new, you must study. For your new knowledge, you have sacrificed both your time and effort. Your Mana Reserves are the same. In order for them to grow, you must sacrifice both the time and effort necessary in order to achieve greater and greater strength."

Harry frowned, considering. "So, everyday after my exercises, I come here and throw every spell I have over and over until I collapse."

"I wouldn't go that far. Just enough that you feel the strain beginning to settle in." Flamel looked at him shrewdly now. "I am certain Voldemort would have done something similar in his own youth."

That was all that needed to be said.

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

Harry was surprised how quickly he adjusted to his new life at Brightstone House.

Time seemed to move quickly now that it was July, but Harry was certain that was only because he followed the same routine every day. After eating breakfast with Flamel shortly after dawn, he would go outside to do his physical training, switching between calisthenics, swimming, and quick sprints as according to the daily rota that he had been presented with. Then he would eat lunch outside, often, but not always, joined by Flamel, before heading into the library to study.

On his first day training alone, Flamel presented him with a thin book, similar to his student handbook, but its leatherback dyed a deep purple instead of sapphire, and his full name written in gold instead of bronze. At the centre, instead of the bronze Ravenclaw eagle there was a brilliant golden Phoenix.

At some point during his first week at Brightstone, Flamel had crafted this book, a highly detailed grimoire, just for him. It was over ten thousand pages long, but had been enchanted to appear to be no more than a hundred so that Harry could actually carry it around with him. It contained knowledge from all six Esoteric Arts, all the way from W.O.M.B.A.T to Mastery levels.

"This doesn't contain everything that a Sage would need to know of course." Flamel had immediately warned him when he spotted the hunger come upon Harry's features. "Just the things that I would deem the most essential, so that you do not embarrass me when I officially recognise you as my apprentice."

Not even this insult could get Harry to tear his eyes away from his new, leather-bound grimoire. "You're not going to tell people that you're teaching me?"

"Of course not." Flamel scoffed. "You're actually going to have to earn that. I can't be associated with your failures."

"Only my successes?"

"I'm not taking you in out of the goodness of my heart, little Henry. A man is only as great as his reputation."

"I don't think you're supposed to say that to an impressionable child."

Flamel sniffed, haughtily. "I will say whatever I wish."

During his long afternoons in the library, Harry poured over every page that was available to him in the grimoire, doing his best to absorb the theoretical knowledge so that he could cast as many of them when he finally got permission to attempt brand new spells. Only the first few hundred pages were currently available to him, as Flamel had enchanted the grimoire to only reveal its knowledge to him once it had deemed him capable.

No revealing spells worked on the grimoire. Harry had already tried all the ones he knew.

It wasn't all that bad though. While the pages for Potions, Runes and the Mind Arts remained fixed on W.O.M.B.A.T level magic, Harry was pleased to see that Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts was firmly in O.W.L appropriate topics. His hard work in wand-based subjects the year before continued to pay off, and Harry was determined to double down.

However, before he got around to learning brand new spells, he needed to prove to his master that he was capable of casting them without exhausting himself.

Every evening, about an hour before dinner was served, Harry made his way to the small field behind the house in order to go through the Mana strengthening exercises that Flamel had demanded from him. While it made sense logically, Harry could not feel any improvement in his reserves even by the end of the month.

"Well of course you wouldn't be able to feel any improvement." Flamel had told him when Harry voiced his doubts to him during his daily healing session. "That's like trying to notice if you've put on weight from one week to the next. It's difficult to tell when you're so close to it, but others will be more likely to notice."

Harry perked up. "Have you noticed any improvements in me?"

"Oh, Halcyon no." Harry slumped into the chair he was sitting in, so Flamel was quick to try to rectify his error. "What I mean to say is…you should time yourself. Yes! If you time yourself week to week, you should notice a small improvement in the amount of time it takes for exhaustion to reach you." Even though he had clearly come up with that on the spot, Harry had to admit that the idea had merit.

Every day, just before dinner, Harry would drag himself into the house, feeling just as exhausted as he had been the day before. Making his way to the sitting room, Harry would slump into the armchair by the window and wait for Flamel to come and heal him before dinner.

"There is no need to recover from exercising like a Muggle." Flamel had told him the first day, when Harry complained that couldn't do this every day as his body hurt too much. "We wizards simply heal ourselves so our muscles grow back stronger and far quicker than they would naturally." He paused then, as his Diagnostic Charm picked up on Harry's still damaged left calf. After a long moment in which neither of them said anything, he simply healed it with a wave of his wand before continuing. "This helps prevent long lasting stress and damage that daily exercise could bring to the body."

These healing sessions became a daily occurrence, one that Flamel turned into another lesson, as he taught Harry all the different ways that he needed to take care of himself after exercise. Muscle-Healing Charm and a small dose of Muscle-Restorative Potion for physical exercise, a diluted dose of Wiggenweld Potion to curb the side effects of his Mana strengthening exercises, and the spell Sutaoss which was meant to heal both joints and cartilage, so they remained undamaged by the effects of the new strain Harry was putting his body under.

"Why are you teaching me all of this?" Harry had asked, interrupting Flamel's lecture. "I have other spells I want to master before I worry about Healing magic."

Flamel blinked. "I'll be sure to visit you often at Hogwarts in order to remain ascertain of your development, but you will have to heal yourself every day when I am not there."

It was Harry's turn to blink. "Haven't you been paying attention? I can't go back to Hogwarts. I'm wanted for murder."

"Hmm? Have I not made you aware of this?" Flamel frowned thoughtfully, as though trying to recall something. "I might have simply told the Automaton and had it mistaken for you. I do get distracted sometimes."

"Flamel!"

"Oh! My apologies. As it turns out, you were never wanted at all. Albus suspected Quirrell of being aligned with Voldemort, so he took care of all of it for you. The Aurors were never even informed." Harry sat back, unsure how to take this news. When he said nothing else, Flamel continued his healing lecture.

Harry's new training routine wasn't the only reason why he grew so used to Brightstone House so quickly. All the inhabitants of the house went out of their way to make him feel more at home, even the members that weren't human, or even technically alive.

Every night after dinner, Harry would join Flamel in the sitting room to spend what little free time he had in front of the Odeon before his self-imposed bedtime. For the first few nights, Harry was able to ignore Flamel's mutters and noises of disgust at The Adventures of Captain Armstrong: The Animated Series, before finally giving up and asking him what he wanted to watch instead.

"Oh, I don't want to watch anything." Flamel said, instantly infuriating Harry. "Wouldn't you want to do something creative instead?"

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "I've had a long day. Do we have to do this?"

"Yes." Flamel said, switching off the Odeon with a wave of his wand as he made his way to the piano. "Do you know how to play?"

"No."

"Excellent! I'll teach you then."

So began Harry's nightly piano lessons. Or at least, that was what Flamel would have liked to have said. As it turned out, Harry was a singularly ungifted musician, one who wasn't able to string two notes together. Flamel had done his best to teach him, but after about a week of nightly lessons he gave up, as Harry showed no improvement whatsoever. Strangely enough, Harry was rather proud of that.

Instead of piano lessons, a new routine began, one where Harry would sit and quietly work on his abandoned artistic hobbies, drawing and painting the images that still haunted his nightmares, all while Flamel played the piano alone, his melancholy tunes often revealing the gloomy man that Harry had briefly glimpsed lurking beneath the jovial exterior. They would linger in the sitting room until the Automaton would come in to collect whatever dishware they had brought with them into the sitting room, silently reminding them of their early start in the morning.

Harry had grown to appreciate Flamel's Automaton, especially as it was so much more intuitive than the Automatons he had met previously at Hogwarts. One day, when Harry knew for certain that Flamel had left the house to conduct his business elsewhere, the floating device came to him with a fancy sandwich that Harry had never tried before but had smelled delicious when he had seen Flamel eat some days before.

"The Automaton most likely saw you looking at my sandwich and thought you wanted one similar." Flamel explained over dinner that evening when Harry had informed him of the event.

"Saw? It doesn't have eyes." Harry made sure to keep his voice low, as he felt strange talking about the machine as though it wasn't in the room. "Besides, I've met Automatons before and unless someone gives them an order, they don't do anything. They can't think for themselves."

"This one can." Flamel explained after chewing. "It is the prototype."

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"Don't you know anything about my history?" Flamel frowned at him. "I thought all children collected Chocolate Frog Cards?"

"The Nicolas Flamel card is just too rare." Harry lied. "What do you mean by prototype?"

Flamel seemed inordinately pleased at the rarity of his card, as he sat up straighter and answered with a smile. "I invented Automatons after the Fourth Great Wizarding War to help protect and serve families. What you see here," he nodded towards the Automaton that was already cleaning the cooking utensils in the sink, "is the first of its kind."

Harry stared at it. "How has it lasted so much longer than the others? And how is it so much smarter?"

"I would be cutting into my own profits if I designed them to last forever." Flamel ignored Harry's stunned expression. "I've repaired this one so much that it was bound to pick up a few things that the others just couldn't."

"Why do you care about money? You have the Philosopher's Stone."

"The Confederacy and the Goblin Nation got a little touchy when I started making too much gold." He shrugged. "So, it's better for everyone if I have a legitimate stream of income." There were so many questions that Harry wanted to ask, but he had the feeling he would be here all night without even scratching the surface of this man's oddities.

The final member of the household finally revealed themselves to Harry during his second week at Brightstone House.

One day, Harry rose hours before the sun, having been awoken by his now all too familiar nightmare. Making his way to the bathroom in order to prepare for the day, Harry found it difficult to remove the image of Quirrell's dying gasps from his mind. As he returned to his room not twenty minutes later, Harry was stunned to see that he had a visitor sitting atop his headboard, seemingly waiting for him to return.

It was a magnificent bird, about the size of a swan, with glorious red plumage, claws and beak that were long and golden, and long orange tail feathers that seemed to glow sightly in the semi-darkness. The beautiful bird was staring at him with its dark eyes, and Harry found himself staring right back at it, spellbound.

After a long beat of silence, the bird opened its beak and began to sing a melodic birdsong, one that was as melancholy as Flamel's piano tunes, but this song carried the tiniest spark of hope. What happened to you was terrible, the bird's song seemed to say, but this feeling won't last forever. Eventually, things will get better.

Almost as if his feet had a mind of their own, Harry walked back towards his bed, climbing underneath the sheets, and under the watchful gaze of the fiery bird, he succumbed to sleep. For the first time in weeks, his dreams were unaffected by nightmares.

"Eos." Flamel said, after he had been forced to come into Harry's room in order to wake him for the day. For the first time in a long time, all Harry wanted to do was return to his slumber, his dreams were so good. "I was beginning to wonder when she would return."

"That was real?" Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in his bed. "I thought it was just a dream."

"No, Eos is very much real." Flamel eyed him for a moment, before wondering out loud. "Phoenixes usually don't take to strangers, especially enough to lull them back to sleep upon meeting them."

Harry stiffened, fully awake now. "Phoenix? A domesticated Phoenix?"

"To say that she is domesticated is a bit of a stretch, but I suppose so, if only compared to her brethren."

Harry continued on as though Flamel had not spoken. "My wand core was meant to come from a domesticated Phoenix."

Flamel froze, before offering a weak smile. "That's a strange coincidence, isn't it? Now, come on! Your behind schedule." Harry could plainly see that he was hiding something, but no matter how much he prodded, Flamel would not budge in his silence on the matter.

Still, every night Eos returned to his bedroom in order to protect him from his nightmares. The semi-state of exhaustion that Harry had grown used to had quickly faded, and he stopped dreading going to sleep every night when Eos was there to keep watch over him. Harry wasn't sure what made her want to help him sleep, but he was thankful for it.

Argos, who didn't like anyone, had returned to Harry a few nights after Eos had returned to Brightstone and watched her carefully. At first, Harry had thought he was merely suspicious of another bird taking his place, but it soon became obvious that he was simply transfixed by the Phoenix song. Harry could hardly hold that against him.

Harry knew he should be worried about returning to Hogwarts without her, but he found it difficult to think so far into the future with her here with him now.

On the last day of July, Harry awoke to the familiar scent of treacle cake. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Harry sat up and found a familiar sight waiting for him upon his desk. A stick treacle ginger cake with the words Happy Birthday written on it.

After a few moments, Harry turned away and began to prepare for the day ahead. When he made his way into the kitchen, carrying the sticky ginger treacle cake before him, he was surprised to find none of the carefully chosen healthy fare that he had grown used to over the past month. Instead, he saw a tower of waffles waiting for him with peanut butter Never-Melt Ice-Cream beside it.

"Ice cream for breakfast?" Harry asked in wonder, having never tried such a thing before. Dudley had never tried such a thing before.

"It is your birthday." Flamel said, before smiling at Harry's surprised expression. "What? You didn't expect me to know that? Is that why you made your own cake?"

Harry glanced down at the cake he was holding. "Oh, no. This is from my old primary school teacher. I thought we could save it for later."

Flamel nodded. "Sounds good. We'll have it when we get back."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Get back?"

Flamel smiled deviously at him, clearly enjoying himself. "We have a special training exercise today."

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

When Harry had woken up that morning, he had not expected to celebrate his twelfth birthday at all, but he found himself being surprised from the moment he woke up. Lupin sending him a gift even though he had not contacted Harry at all in over a year and waffles and peanut butter ice cream for breakfast were both surprising enough, but Flamel's gift was by far the most unexpected.

Of all the things Harry had thought he would do on his twelfth birthday, Go-Karting was not anywhere on his radar.

"I know you don't like the idea of taking any time off from training, but everyone deserves a break on their birthday!" Flamel exclaimed as the two stepped onto the empty track somewhere in Buckinghamshire. "If it makes you feel any better, your free to think of it as coordination training."

"I won't need to make excuses to myself. This looks like it'll be fun." Harry was trying to keep his cool, and not show how excited he was. "Where is everyone else?" Harry indicated the barren outdoor track as he stored away his Ouroboros at Flamel's request.

"Hmm? Oh, I booked the entire day just for the two of us." Flamel said, as the uniformed operator of the track hurried to meet them. "I didn't do that for you though." He said, correctly guessing Harry's upcoming protest. "This is my first time driving one of these things and I don't want anyone to see me do it until I'm incredible at it." Harry laughed as the operator finally arrived.

"Mr Flamel?" The man asked, looking doubtfully at Flamel's grungy clothes. "You booked the track for today?" Harry could almost hear him strain to sound polite.

"Yes, for my nephew's birthday." It made sense that he would say nephew, as he didn't look anywhere near old enough to be Harry's father. "I think this should cover it." He handed the operator a wad of cash so large that the man had to use both hands to hold it.

"Is it just the two of you then?" He asked, much politer than before.

"Yes." Harry said, pretending to feel sad. "I have no friends." That ended the conversation rather abruptly, as they man hurried to show them how to put their protective gear on and how to operate the Go-Karts themselves.

From the Go-Kart next to his, Flamel turned to face him as they waited for the track's traffic lights to turn green. "You didn't have to make things awkward like that." His voice came out muffled by his helmet. "I could have handled it."

"How? By throwing a roll of bills thicker than a mattress? He probably thinks that you're some kind of criminal now. Especially with the way you dress." Harry said this while eyeing Flamel's baggy jeans and tattered military jacket.

Flamel's voice was still muffled, but the offence was still audible. "There is nothing wrong with my-! OI!"

While Flamel was busy being offended, Harry had hit the accelerator and took off down the track, leaving a protesting Immortal in his dust.

Driving the Go-Kart was easy enough and it was a lot of fun, even though it wasn't quite as exhilarating as playing Quidditch, but the highlight of his morning was the distant sound of Flamel's frustration as Harry lapped him during their first race. Still, all good things must come to an end, as after a couple of hours on the barren track, he noticed that the side lines started to fill with spectators and the operator was waving them down.

"Time's up, I'm afraid." The man told them after they had come to a stop in the pit. "You only booked it for the morning, and I've got to open it back up for the public."

"That's fine." Harry said, mostly to reassure Flamel, as he didn't want him to feel as though he had to kick all these people out over a booking error.

"It is fine." Flamel confirmed, smiling. "We have other plans today."

"We do?" Harry was surprised, as even Dudley only got one special activity on his birthday. "What is it?" He asked as they left the track.

"Something I have far better odds at winning at."

That something turned out to be paintball, and to his credit, Flamel was far better at it than he was at Go-Karting. In fact, he was so much better that Harry was glad that they were on the same team, as he proved to be a merciless player, who viscously picked off his opponents one by one and often starting with the weakest before moving on to those who would prove a challenge.

"I'm just saying you didn't have to try so hard to win. I couldn't tell through the helmet, but I think you made that little boy cry." Harry was trying to sound reproachful as they left the field, but he couldn't quite hide the amusement in his voice.

Flamel sounded utterly unapologetic. "The sacrifices for victory are often at the expense of the weak. I will not mourn for him." He finished dramatically, and Harry couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

The last surprise of the day turned out to be Harry's favourite, as it was a cross between an indoor theme park and arcade. He couldn't quite tell where they were, as Flamel had apparated them there, but it was definitely a massive building somewhere in London, judging by the majority of the accents of the Muggles they passed by. It was built like a shopping centre, but instead of selling goods, each shop was either a part of the arcade, had an indoor ride or was just a fast-food restaurant.

It was like this place had been built from the collective desire of every kid in the world.

Harry almost had to stop himself from dragging Flamel around by the arm, as he wanted to experience everything this place had to offer before closing and it was already quite late in the afternoon, but he needn't have worried, as Flamel had already thought of that.

"Take your time," he told Harry, "I've already arranged for us to stay after hours." Harry beamed up at him before running to join the queue for the indoor rollercoaster.

One by one, Harry took the time to enjoy every feature this place had to offer, feeling more like himself than he'd had in weeks. Every arcade game, all the rides and even a quick game of bowling when he saw it was available too, Harry wanted to try everything at least once. That even included the food, as close to midnight, hours after everyone else had left and he had finally had his fill of all the attractions, Harry ended up ordering a wide variety of fast-food that would have made Dudley weep with envy.

It had been the kind of birthday he had fantasised about as a child but had never thought would actually come to pass. He was happier now than he could ever remember being.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand the reason behind the premise." Flamel was saying, while Harry was busy putting onion rings on his burger for no reason other than he could. "Why would people want to crash into each other?"

"I don't know, it's just fun." Harry finally said, after a few moments of hard thinking that failed to give him a reasonable answer. "It's just bumper cars, old man, don't over think it."

Flamel took a moody sip of his drink. "Well, I would have not performed so poorly if I just understood the premise." He winced at the taste, as he had followed Harry's lead and combined all the fizzy drinks available into one massive cup.

Harry chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that." The rest of the meal was spent in companiable silence, only broken by brief conversational inputs from Flamel, mostly questions about whether or not Harry had enjoyed this ride or that game. Finally, after the last of the fried morsels had been eaten, Harry sat back against the squeaky laminate seating and asked what had been on his mind all day.

"Why do all this?" Harry asked quietly. "Not that I don't appreciate it, because I really do, but I didn't expect anything from you. I wouldn't have held it against you if you just ignored my birthday."

Flamel looked at him with an expression that Harry could not identify. "I believe that." He sighed. "I just wanted to acknowledge your birthday, and make sure that you knew that someone cared."

"Why?" Harry couldn't prevent the defensiveness he felt from emerging through the tone of his voice. "I don't need anyone to care about me." He thought of his parents and the fates that they had met for caring about him. "In fact, I would prefer it if no one did. Much less hassle that way."

"That is the furthest thing from the truth. Take it from someone who has felt for over six centuries of what you do now." Flamel sighed. "I saw it when I first met you, but I can see it plainer with each passing day. You are a very lonely child." The strange expression was still affixed upon his face, but it was only when Harry registered his words did he finally realise that expression was pity.

Flamel pitied him.

Something about that felt like a slap in the face. Harry shot to his feet. "You don't know me. No one does." He left the restaurant behind and headed for the escalator to the third floor, making his way towards the largest arcade floor where he could be alone with his thoughts, but he quickly regretted that.

There were only two thoughts that were running around in his mind: The first was the fact that his loneliness, that he had been spent his entire life being so ashamed of, was so plain to see by a person he had met only a month before. The second was the humiliation of having his master, the teacher he had spent weeks trying to impress, thinking that he was just a pathetic little boy.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn't realise that the arcade floor was far darker than it should have been until it was far too late.

Harry felt something wrap around his ankle, the texture of it almost cloth like against his bare skin. Looking down, he saw it was a black tendril, but it was too dark for him to examine properly. Harry moved to draw his wand, but a second tendril lashed out from the darkness and wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from defending himself.

Without his wand, Harry had never felt more vulnerable than he had in that moment.

More and more tendrils lashed out from the gloom, wrapping around his limbs, and when he tried to shout for help, one tendril wrapped around his throat, choking him, and another wrapped around his mouth, making an effective gag. In under ten seconds, almost every inch of Harry was wrapped in layers of the animated cloth, and he was lifted several feet in the air so that even his feet couldn't find purchase on the floor.

His eyes remained one of the few parts that were free of obstruction, so he could see the cloaked figure swoop out of the darkness and into the neon light of the arcade games. Except it wasn't a figure at all, but a cloak of the darkest shade he had ever seen, gliding through the air towards him under its own power, the edges fluttering ever so slightly as it moved towards him with the certainty of a predator that had already captured its prey.

Harry narrowed his eyes and tried to tap into his own power without his wand for the first time in over a year. It remained just as easy to reach, but the blazing red flames he had summoned through his bound hands were quickly snuffed out by the tendrils, as though it was simply being absorbed, or transported to somewhere else.

Harry could do nothing but watch as the animated shroud hovered before his eyes, its greater height giving him the opportunity to see underneath its hood, but he quickly wished he had never been given the opportunity at all.

While the hood's contents were somehow even darker than the cloak itself, Harry could see that it was barren of a head, just like it did not possess a body, but that was until he saw it flicker. Every few seconds, as the shroud drew closer and the bindings grew tighter, Harry could see the flicker of the being's true face; A small, smooth head that was somewhat reminiscent of a baby, devoid of both its eyes but not its barren eye sockets, and a wide circular mouth that had circular rows of sharp little teeth all around its open maw.

The image was flickering, as though it wasn't entirely present in this world, and perhaps it was just the effects of the lack of oxygen entering his brain, but he just knew that once he lost consciousness and was consumed by the animated cloak's darkness, he would be transported to wherever that flickering creature was in order to be eaten while he was still alive.

Harry wanted to fight back, but without his wand he was nothing more than a frightened child under the gaze of this Dark Beast. He could feel the last of his strength begin to leave him as his vision began to blur, and he could do nothing but think about how all his hard work was for naught, about how his parents would remain forever trapped in their prisons, and how he would never be able to claim vengeance over Voldemort.

That sense of frustration and failure culminated into a desperate scream that was silenced by the tendril that was wrapped over his mouth.

Then Harry felt his Ouroboros burn.

There was a sharp crack! that came from behind him, and Harry's blurry vision was overtaken by an ethereal white light. The creature's tendrils loosened, and Harry was dropped several feet and crashed against the hard resin floor. Slowly, Harry vision began to clear, just in time to see a glowing white phoenix chase the animated cloak out of sight.

Before Harry could summon the strength to sit up, he was suddenly wrapped in a pair of arms. "Are you alright?" Flamel asked, sounding more worried than Harry would have thought possible for him. "When I saw that Lethifold, I thought-! Harry?"

Harry had pushed Flamel's arms off of him and, with great difficulty, climbed to his feet. "Don't touch me." He said with anger that surprised even him, and he staggered away from the concerned Flamel.

Author's Note

In this AU, Flamel has the only domesticated Phoenix. In my mind, it makes more sense if the Immortal was the one who had an immortal familiar rather than Dumbledore. Unfortunately, this means no Fawkes.

Most of this chapter was dedicated to training, just cause I love a good training arc in anime.

I tried to establish a strong rapport with Harry and Flamel in this chapter, as he will be the mentor figure to Harry's protagonist.

Not much plot wise, just a further characterisation into Harry's downward spiral. First Year really messed him up.