A/N:

Okay, I'll say it: I have no ability to keep to self-imposed deadlines. But in my defence, I have been hugely busy this week, and a rather unique opportunity came my way which I could simply not turn down.

At my Uni we had a talk from a Holocaust Survivor / daughter of another survivor by the name of Eva Clarke. She was a wonderful orator who I had the absolute pleasure to listen to and then ask several questions of once she had finished speaking. If you ever here that she is giving a public lecture somewhere or she is speaking in your University, and you have some free time, I highly advise that you go and listen to her speak. She tells a grim yet fascinating story, and offers a unique insight into a part of history we can't (and indeed never should) forget, and it honestly opens up your mind in ways that you cannot imagine. As a History student her talk was not only enlightening but also inspiring – it reminds me of why my subject matters in a day and age when scientists and mathematicians look down on those of us who study 'old-school' Academic subjects, and deliberately try to belittle us. She reminded me of why not only recording history is important, but also properly understanding events and why the happened – and thus trying to find ways so that something never happens again.

So in all seriousness, regardless of whether or not you study History or even like it, go listen to Mrs Clarke speak – you won't regret it!

Any ways, enough about my week, here's the new chapter I promised you all! This is really the filler chapter before we begin year two, but it does still cover a lot of important things, so it's not a waste of time! Also, I'd like for you all to know that I have gone back and corrected the spelling of Voldemort. My MS Word was set to autocorrect the spelling to Voldamort instead of Voldemort (its correct spelling). This has now been rectified. That and the flashback for Harry's Christmas break will be put into the LAST chapter at some point this coming week – so if you want to read that then it'll be in the previous chapter later this coming week.

Well that's enough outta me, you've been waiting long enough.

Let's get this show on the road once more!

(P.S; Apologies that this chapter is ever so slightly shorter than usual, but in all honesty if I wrote any more the chapter would've felt unnecessarily long in my opinion, hence it's slightly shorter length.)

(Disclaimer: Chapter one)

(Last time in 'Code: DxD Potter')

"No you fool!" Voldemort screamed, and tried to urge Quirrel on in his attempt to kill Harry. However, before the man could so much as make a move, Harry forced his weapon-wielding arm forward, driving the glass shard further into Quirrel's neck, causing even more blood to spurt from his wound and mouth. Letting out a strangled gargle, the man tried to move closer to Harry, but his strength soon seemed to fade as he began to cease his struggles, and instead seemed to settle for staring at Harry with his cold eyes.

The moment his gaze met Harry's the young man couldn't help but let out a startled gasp as a magical circle appeared between the two of them. Quirrel grinned savagely at him, the blood pouring from his mouth making him look like some sort of cannibal. Harry drove the glass further and further into the man's neck, but before he could rip his throat open, the golden magical circle flared to life.

And all that Harry Potter knew after that was darkness, whilst a certain ex mercenary couldn't help but smile to himself as he finally felt the life leave his slowly falling body….

'There's not much else I can do directly now Harry. I would wish you the best of luck…..' He thought to himself sadly, all whilst ignoring the agonised and angry screams of a certain dark lord. He knew that his sacrifice wouldn't stop him, but it would be the first of many stepping stones on the path to finally riding the world of the bastard once and for all.

'But I know you won't need it. After all…..

I've made the right choice with you.'

(Chapter Three: The aftermath and a most peculiar offer)

(Inside Hogwarts Medical Wing, two days after the attempted theft of the Stone)

Harry let out an moan of pain as his mind slowly returned to the realm of conscious thought. Every single pain receptor in his body seemed to firing at the same time, causing the young Potter's body hurt all-over. It was if somebody had dropped him into a vat of acid and held him under: and it was most certainly a feeling that the young boy had already decided that he didn't want to ever have to feel again.

"Christ, what hit me?" He mumbled to himself through cracked lips, coughing slightly as his throat and mouth grew accustomed to moving and generating speech once again. His thoughts were not directed at anyone, nor were they words that he really needed an answer to, but to Harry's surprise somebody did answer his question.

"A number of different things mister Potter. In fact, I would say you would have to rank amongst the toughest and luckiest people I know on this Earth, given the state of your body when you were bought to me." An elderly yet stern voice answered, causing Harry's eyes to snap open in surprise. Immediately, the youngest male Potter let out a hiss of pain as his eyesight was awash with a plethora of bright colours that caused his eyes to sting. After several moments of blinking and silent cussing, Harry's eyesight eventually settled back down, which allowed him to finally look at his surroundings.

The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts had apparently once been the dining Hall for the school, back when it was just starting out and the student body was vastly smaller than it was now. This meant that the room was practically saturated with ambient magical energy from the students, teachers and other people who had been in the room. This coupled with the fact that the room sat right on-top of one of the four major ley-lines that fuled the schools wards meant that the healing effect promoted by the presence of ambient magic was increased tremendously, therefore allowing the resident Healers of Hogwarts to tend to their charges with a greater degree of success. Quickly casting his gaze around the room, Harry noted that all of the beds in the room, both on his side and the opposite side, were empty. The second youngest Potter was about to continue his inspection of the room when the stern female voice broke through the silence of the room again.

"Over here, Potter."

Snapping his head to his right, Harry couldn't help but let out a small startled yelp when he saw the woman who was standing next to him. She stood at only five foot three, but the elderly looking witch Harry was facing gave of a commanding and stern aura that told him that she was not somebody he wanted to get on the wrong side of. Her greying hair was pulled into a neat bun and she wore standard wizarding robes that were coloured a dark green, which was often worn by those in the medical profession. This was Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse and one of the few amongst the Hogwarts staff that Harry could honestly say he respected. The woman was a world-renowned healer who had apparently trained at the Sitiri family hospital in the Underworld when she had been a contracted magician.

But that knowledge didn't make her appearing act any less terrifying for the youngest male Potter.

Once he had managed to get his breathing under control, the second youngest child of the Potter family sent a small glare at the elder witch, who was lightly smirking at the young boy's discomfort. It was obvious to her that Harry was demanding an explanation for her antics, and seeing how it had obviously annoyed the young Potter, the resident healer decided to explain.

"You've managed to keep me working right until the final day of term, mister Potter. Did you honestly expect me not to get a little revenge for that?" She commented with a small smile gracing her lips, causing Harry to let out a small snort of laughter at her reasoning.

"Fair enough I suppose." He started, earning a small faux haughty sniff of approval from the ageing witch.

"But you didn't need to be such an old banshee abo- YEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOW!"

Harry had decided to try and get in a small playful jab towards the elder mage, but before he could finish his comment, he found his right cheek being painfully pulled on by the mediwitch, who had a cold and creepy smile plastered on her lips as she responded to his comment.

"What was that, Mister Potter? I'm an old banshee? Do you want me to put you on a two week course of the most disgusting potions I can find? Because I can easily arrange that…." Here the woman's face took on a sinister look whilst her eyes suddenly seemed to turn into blazing infernos of fire as she dragged Harry closer to her by his cheek.

"What with how old I am." She snarled in a nearly demonic voice, causing Harry to try and pull away whilst offering what apologies he could ….. although they sounded rather stupid considering that one of his cheeks had been pulled a significant distance from his face.

"I'm sworry Mdm Pomfwy, I won' sa' tit agains! (I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey, I won't say it again!)" Harry yelled out. The moment the words left his mouth, the firm grip that was attempting to rip his cheek off vanished, allowing the abused flesh to ping back into place.

"Excellent. I will be right back Mister Potter, I just need to get some potions for you to drink, and then the Headmaster will want to speak to you." The elder witch said chipperly, placing extra emphasis on the part about potions, which caused Harry's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

'Oh they're going to taste horrible, I can see it right now.' The young man thought to himself with a small resigned sigh. He knew that his comments may well earn him a punishment, but unfortunately he was his fathers' son in some ways – and being a smart-mouthed little gob-shite when being quite would be better in some situations was definitely one of them. Turning his eyes skywards, the young man let his mind wander to the events that had played out in the chamber that he encountered his former mentor and his….. boss…..

'I can't believe that was really him – that it was really Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore and the ministry said that the monster was fucking dead. They obviously didn't look hard enough, because he is still alive…..'

'No, he isn't. You killed him, remember?'

That realization caused Harry's whole mind to freeze in shock as he realised that he: Harry James Potter, had wilfully and knowingly used his own mind and body to facilitate the death of another living, breathing human being. At first he couldn't quite comprehend the realisation that his mind had come to – after all, he was barely coming up for his twelfth birthday, so how on earth could he have possibly killed someone. After all, that was the job of soldiers and Auroras, not young students like himself. But the more and more that his slowly recovering mind thought about it, the more he slowly began to accept the fact that he had actually ended another person's life without a seconds' thought on the matter.

He had killed another human.

But that was not the most worrying notion for Harry. No, for above the sea of emotions that was raging within his young and slowly recovering mind, a single horrific realization struck Harry more than anything his parents or siblings could say – more than any reprimanding words from an officer of the law or his own headmaster.

'Why don't I feel anything about it?'

And it was true, for all the emotions that Harry felt were not about the fact that he had killed another human being – rather, they were all related as to why he didn't feel anything about killing Quirrel / Voldemort.

'Where's the guilt?' He asked himself, only to find one of the primary emotions strangely absent from his mind.

'Where's the rage?' The youngest Potter wondered, for he felt nothing but a disturbing level of calm and peace within his mind when he thought about the kill.

'Where's the self-loathing?'

'The confusion?

The disbelief?

The sick feeling?

Why don't I feel anything about it?'

That final question was what was causing the youngest male Potter's blood to freeze in horror, churn his stomach and make his very soul feel sick.

He felt nothing about killing Voldemort / Quirrel.

'Why don't I feel anything? I just killed two people for God's sake, and the only thing I can do is sit here and accept that I did it? Why? I want to feel something, anything for god's sakes – just so long as I feel something about killing that bastard.

Does….. does this make me a psychopath or just messed up? I mean, I'm trying to feel guilty about the whole thing but I can barely bring myself to be bothered to think about the whole affair… I mean after all, it was me or him. And I wasn't going to die for some god damned megalomaniac, just because some people may think it's wrong. '

'And therefore there's nothing else to it. Now shape up and stop moping, you have a defence to prepare.' A strong voice echoed through Harry's mind, causing the young Potter to snap out of his slightly panic-stricken state. He didn't know why, but Harry couldn't help but feel naturally calmed by the words of the disembodied voice – they resonated with his own logical mind-set perfectly, and the strong baritone that delivered them seemed so oddly familiar to Harry, as if it were a voice that he had heard all his life. The young Potter was about to question the origin of the voice, but realising that it was absolutely right, the youngest Potter male decided to put any questions that he may have had on hold in favour of constructing some form of defence against the impending questioning he would probably have to suffer.

So leaning back against his pillow, the young Potter let out a small sigh of frustration as he focused his mind on the task at hand.

'Okay all I have to do is trick a bunch of experienced officers and the headmaster that I am one hundred percent the victim…

Dam it why is it always me this stuff happens to?'

(Fifteen minutes later, with Professor Dumbledore outside the Hospital wing)

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore could not help but let a small, almost unnoticeable frown cross his face as he lead virtually entire Potter family and an Aurora sent by the ministry of magic to the hospital wing. The reason for this frown was the seemingly heavy-handed approach that the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had been forced to take regarding the events that had taken place in the Ante-Chamber where Hogwarts headmaster had left the Philosophers' stone, after agreeing upon a fairly iron-clad strategy with his former teacher and (possibly) best friend: Nicholas Flamel.

The two of them had originally planned to draw the three oldest Potter children into the Chamber in an effort to make them realize that the man who had tried to slay half their family, Voldemort, was not dead. After fighting a losing battle against a possessed Quirrel (who, even had he not been trying, would have crushed them all easily), Dumbledore would then step in and save the three of them from certain death. They would probably all have passed out from exhaustion and injuries, before awakening to find little more than a few friendly Auroras waiting to question them, before being offered a chance by Nicholas and Prenelle Flamel to study under them over the course of the summer. From there on, the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts hoped to install a little bit more fight into his students, and turn them into powerful mages who would be able to slay Voldemort when he finally returned to Supernatural Britain.

What he got instead was something he had not really been planning for.

The youngest male Potter – Harry.

The moment Albus had first laid eyes on the young boy, he could tell that he was not like the rest of his family. His body and magic was always tensed and ready to retaliate to any possible threat – unlike the relaxed stances of not only his family but also his godfather's family, Sirius Black. However, despite this and his difference in demeanour compared to the rest of his family, there was one thing that told Albus just how different the young man was from the rest of his pacifist and kindly family.

And that one thing was his eyes – no, more specifically, the look in his eyes.

It was a look Dumbledore recognised all too well – the desire to become the best the world had ever seen, the desire to become the strongest. It was a rare look indeed; so rare in fact that the aging headmaster could have previously counted on one hand the number of people he had seen with that look.

Nicholas and Prenelle Flamel.

Quirinus Quirrel.

The only person he had ever loved.

The only student he had ever failed completely.

Himself.

And now Harry Potter.

After the sorting ceremony, the aging headmaster of Hogwarts decided to keep a closer eye on Harry than he had originally planned to – after all, his brother and two sisters had already proven themselves to be fairly remarkable, so he originally planned to avoid risking Harry … but the more the grizzled veteran of two wizarding wars watched the young wizard, he couldn't help but realize he had made a mistake. He shouldn't have given Harry peripheral attention.

He should have been Dumbledore's focus from the very start.

Although not as intelligent as his sisters, or as physically gifted as his brother, Harry made up for these apparent shortcomings with a truly astounding amount of magical power, and a mind that possibly even Salazar Slytherin himself would say as being too cunning for him to outsmart…

And then there was his acceptance of Quirrel's offer to train him : the boy had seemingly wasted no time at all in accepting the offer before throwing himself head-first into the training.

It was interesting to watch as Harry's moves slowly became more and more graceful whilst his magical reserves grew greater and greater. In all his years of teaching Albus had never seen anyone make the level of progress that the youngest Potter was making – hell, he may have been growing in skill and power at a faster rate than even Dumbledore had been at his age.

And that was why he changed the focus of his plans to Harry Potter. The boy's potential was simply far too great for him to ignore it and leave it to be wasted, and his mind-set seemed far more in-tune with what Albus needed for his plans to work, which would thus free up time that would've been used teaching life lessons to instead focus on growing and developing the young man's powers further.

It would be easy to interpret Albus' actions as those of some evil megalomaniac, a man who planned to manipulate a young boy into becoming more and more powerful so that he could either kill Voldemort when he returned or weaken him so much that Albus could simply sweep in and be lauded as a hero once more. The truth was actually farther from this than you could imagine – he didn't want to create a puppet, he wanted to create a successor. A mage who would be powerful enough to protect their world from the threats of Devils and Fallen Angels and maybe even unite all magical communities under a common banner – a mage to carry on the work that he had started and help bring peace to the Supernatural world they lived in.

Were his methods questionable? Yes.

But, in this instance, did the ends justify the means?

Albus thoughts so.

'Or at least I hope so.' The aging Wizard thought to himself as he recalled the conversation he had with the Flamels about the change of plans. Perenelle had been furious at the prospect of effectively creating a child soldier out of Harry … but she had calmed down once Nicholas stated they would help with the young Wizard, but not out of a desire to help the old man in his mad scheme….. but rather to make sure young Harry would survive the trials that were to come.

"One day you will be judged for this choice Albus – and I pray that whatever divinity that is given your soul places as much emphasis on what is logical, and not what is morally right."

'Whatever my fate shall ultimately be I cannot change – but I can at least give myself enough reasons to face it with my head held high and my heart content in the knowledge that I did what I thought was right, something that very few men can ever claim to have the privilege of.' Albus thought to himself grimly as he allowed his mind to stray onto darker topics, as it had a tendency to as he reached the end of his twilight years. However, before he could become truly lost in his maelstrom of thoughts, he was pulled out of the depths by a voice calling out to him from behind.

"So Headmaster, how would you describe Harry Potter's character?" A deep, baritone voice asked the aging wizard, causing Dumbledore to snap out of his thoughts on Harry's and his own future. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Albus was greeted to the imposing sight of one Kingsley Shacklebolt staring at him with a slight air of curiosity. Kingsley was a giant of a man, standing at roughly 6'6 which helped him haul around the powerful muscles that were hidden by his purple and gold trimmed Auror Captain's combat robes. A man of African descent, his dark skin colour and imposing figure gave him a somewhat exotic look amongst the mostly white British mage population. A veteran of some twenty years of the DMLE, Kingsley was a long-time member of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's personal strike force to combat Voldemort's elite 'Inner Circle'. A personal friend of Albus, the headmaster was not too shocked by the man's line of questioning, and knew that it would stray into territory that may cause offence to some people present. After all, Kingsley was very much able to draw a fine line of distinction between business and social visits, and this was most certainly a business visit.

Smiling in his typical 'grandfatherly' manner, the Headmaster of Hogwarts responded.

"Harry is a highly intelligent young man with a mind that is very gifted in chess, if the words of Professor Snape are to be believed. He can be cold, almost phlegmatic to those he does not know or care for, but he is an amicable and rather witty young man – with a certain disregard for the rules. Although I have no idea where he got that trait from." Albus finished with a quick glance over his shoulder to a rather sheepish looking pair of former students, who had the decency to look at least somewhat embarrassed by their former actions.

Smiling slightly at his friends words, Kingsley immediately realised his mistake and allowed his face to fall back into its neutral (and most common) form before asking several follow up questions : mostly inane stuff such as Harry's study patterns, grades and other such things. Albus knew exactly where his Auror friend was going with his thinking, but he didn't say anything to try and head the issue off at the pass – the man was only doing his job after all.

Eventually, the seasoned officer of the law finally asked the question that the Headmaster had been anticipating for quite some time.

"Do you think that Mr Potter, given his House here at Hogwarts, will be prone to lying or omitting and form of information?" He asked in a serious tone of voice. Albus idly noted several rather offended voices demanding that Shacklebolt apologize for the way that he has spoken about Harry, but before any of them could become particularly angry, Albus decided to fill the air with his commanding yet soothing voice.

"I do not believe Captain Shacklebolt meant any offence with his words – he is merely evaluating the situation as he sees it." Dumbledore lightly chided those who had voiced a rather strong opinion on Shacklebolt's words – most notably the elder Potter children and the Lady Potter herself. They all fell quiet and looked suitably cowed and ashamed at their outbursts, which caused Dumbledore to smile slightly in satisfaction at their response before returning his attention to their accompanying officer of the DMLE.

"As for the answer to your question, officer, I do not believe Harry would lie to you about something this serious any more so than a child his age. He has nothing to hide, and will only omit things like whether or not he was out of bed late that evening – he may be cunning, but he is also very moral." Albus finished with a note of finality in his voice, hoping to stop any further questioning by the seasoned official and set a good opinion of Harry in his head. He had lied to his friend, but he had only done so because the long term importance of making sure Harry was of greater importance. Albus knew exactly what had happened in that small ante-chamber, and he knew that, whilst Harry would face no charges, the boy needed to have a free summer ahead of him – and one filled with interviews and court hearings would not exactly be conducive for good training.

Nodding his head in agreement with what Albus had told him, Shacklebolt immediately offered a small apology to the family accompanying them, which Albus was pleased to note was graciously accepted by the offended parties.

Letting out a small sigh, Albus zoned out of the world around him until he finally reached the doors to the medical wing. Just as they were about to enter, a young-sounding voice called out to the aging headmaster.

"WAIT!"

Turning around, Dumbledore was not at all surprised to see the small frames of Shirley Fenette, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy sprinting from the other end of the hallway towards them. He knew that these children were possibly Harry's closest friends, Shirley and Draco in particular. The group of first years came to a halt some two to three metres away from Dumbledore's group, with only Draco and Shirley not keeling over slightly to catch their breath in ragged gasps.

Shirley, the one who had cried out to them, took several more deep breaths before finally managing to find her voice again..

"You're …. A…. about to go se….. see Harry correct?" She asked in-between several deep breaths. Albus nodded his head with a small smile on his face.

"Indeed we are, Miss Fenette. I take it that you wish to visit your friend?" He asked in a kind, almost grandfatherly tone. The young girl nodded her head eagerly as she offered her response.

"Of course, he's my best friend."

Smiling lightly at the girls words, the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts turned back to the group of people behind him. Shacklebolt shrugged his shoulders, knowing that there was little he could do to stop the family accompanying them from saying yes or no. James Potter on the other hand narrowed his eyes slightly when he caught sight of the spawn of Lucius Malfoy, and seemed ready to offer a no to the group, but before he could he found himself cut off by the commanding voice of his wife.

"That's no problem…"

"Shirley, Shirley Fenette." The young Hufflepuff offered with a bright smile towards Lily Potter, who could seemingly only smile back at the younger female. Deciding to step in so that events could move ahead, Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly before speaking.

"I do believe that introductions can wait for several more minutes…"

Here he paused and swung the doors to the Infirmary open.

"As I think the subject of all our concern is waiting for us inside."

(Twenty Minutes Later, Inside the Hospital Wing)

"So let me get this straight Mr Potter. You were sneaking back to your common room on the night in question after exploring several parts of the castle after curfew. You then so happened to chance upon your siblings who were discussing the Stone with Professor McGonagall – and decided, despite the potential danger, to go and visit the Stone's location, where you encountered Professor Quirrel attempting to break through the Stones' defences." Shacklebolt repeated back to Harry the first half of his story slowly, as if he were either struggling with remembering all of the details that Harry had supplied him with, or that he did not fully believe them.

Knowing that he had to stick with the story he had given to the attending officer of the Law, Harry gently nodded his head in the hopes of keeping up the slightly shell-shocked look he had adopted throughout this interview. The youngest male Potter knew that he had everyone around him completely convinced that his story was true – all he had to do now was see all of this off with a few mute nods of the head and crocodile tears and he'd be scot-free.

Regarding the youngest Potter with a sorrowful look, Shacklebolt waited several seconds before he continued with his 'interview'.

"In a period of confusion, where you couldn't understand why one of the men protecting the stone was trying to steal it, Professor Quirrel attacked you and forcefully subdued you." Here, Harry forced his body to begin shaking slightly in an attempt to appear uncomfortable with the story being relayed to him – as if brining up bad memories. Idly noting the presence of his mother's hand on his shoulder, Harry made a weak gesture to Kingsley to continue.

"Obviously believing you to be subdued, Professor Quirrel went to return to his attempts at recovering the stone, but before he could, you made to escape. Quirrel attempted to stop you, but before he could a stray pieces of debris, probably caused by one of his substantially more powerful spells, caught him in the neck, killing him virtually instantly." Forcing tears into his eyes, the youngest male Potter nodded his head again, leaning slightly towards his mother for fake comfort. Gritting his teeth, he waited in a somewhat awkward silence for several moments before the strong and commanding voice of Kingsley broke through the almost deafening silence.

"Alright Mister Potter I do believe that's everything I need to hear. Officially I am not supposed to say this, but I wouldn't worry about this going any further – what you've told me falls in line with what I saw down in that chamber. You may be called upon to make this statement again in an official ministry setting, but I highly doubt it – you are after all, only a child." The man offered Harry what the youngest male Potter supposed was meant to be a comforting smile before turning his attention to Dumbledore, his Father and his Uncle – Sirius Black.

Sirius was a good looking man in his early thirties, with long shaggy black hair that almost reached mid-way down his neck, whilst a somewhat groomed goatee beard was proudly left unshaven from his face. The man who Harry called godfather sent him a small, comforting smile before following both his best friend, James, and his former headmaster. It was at this point that Harry finally allowed himself to breathe a mental sigh of relief. He'd barely managed to get a competent story together for the grizzled officer that had come in to question him – and had the man not been a fairly soft person at heart, Harry doubted that he would've been able to get out of this situation without telling the truth.

As it was, all it took were a few bouts of tears and some shaking and the man thought Harry to be a genuine victim in the whole mess – and not a cold-blooded little shit who had just justified killing another living human to himself. His friends had been sent out by Professor Dumbledore, so as to not scare them with the details– and for that fact Harry was eternally grateful.

All of his friends seemed to know when he was lying to them. And as far as Harry was concerned, that was something he could do without them questioning later on – least of all because he didn't know how they'd react to the news that their friend had killed another human being. Harry cared for very few people in this world, but his friends and baby sister were probably at the top of that list – and as such Harry didn't want their relationships to be destroyed by the dark and dirty secret that Harry now carried in his heart.

Letting out an actual sigh of content as his mother gently hugged his smaller frame, Harry allowed his mind to wander away from his dark thoughts for a small while, and instead simply enjoy the over-abundance of affection that his mother was showering him with – because god knows he didn't get enough of that when they did see each-other.

Enjoying the comfortable silence that had slowly enveloped the room, Harry failed to notice the sound of the doors to the Hospital wing being opened and then closed, nor the group of people making their way towards his bed rather quickly until he was suddenly knocked back into his bed by an all-too-familiar Hufflepuff first year.

"Oh my god Harry , you'll never believe whose' just arrived here. Like literally, you won't be able to believe it! It's amazing – I thought they only existed in fairy-tails or legends even amongst wizards, I never knew they were real people …" Letting out a soft groan, Harry couldn't help but glare at the openly laughing forms of Daphne and Tracey, whilst Draco stood next to him with a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched alongside everyone else as Shirley continued to babble from her position around Harry's ribs.

Gently reminding the young Hufflepuff he needed to breath, the girl immediately leapt of the bed with her face a bright red. Harry would have proceeded to laugh at her, but before he could he noted the shocked looks of the people surrounding him, minus the people who had been outside the Hospital Wing.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry shuffled down in his bed slightly before leaning past his group of friends so that he could see who it was that had drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Idly noting that Dumbledore was walking behind the two people who he had entered alongside with a large smile on his face, Harry finally managed to fix his gaze onto the two people who were walking in-front of the grizzled headmaster.

The first was a blond-haired man who appeared to be no-older than twenty five or twenty six years of age. He was rather handsome, with his strong and aristocratic face being only mildly marred by a pair of faint scars: the first running from underneath his right eye down to his jaw, whilst the second ran from the right corner of his mouth a couple of centimetres across his cheek. His build was more noticeably muscular than any other male in the room – a fact which was emphasised by the simple navy suit and white shirt that he wore, with several buttons left undone to add an air of casualness to his somewhat formal attire. His bright-blue eyes sparkled with mischief and tomfoolery unimaginable- but that was front. What it was for, Harry did not know, and before he could begin speculating on what he believed he had seen in the man's eyes, Harry found his eyes drifting to the person who walked beside the man.

And what a woman she was.

Platinum blond hair ran like a molten river down to the middle of this woman's back, holding a near unbelievable shine. She stood slightly shorter than the man she walked alongside by about two or three inches, but what she lacked in height she made up for in her appearance alone. A face that seemed to have been crafted by the gods, a magnificently huge chest and perfectly shaped rear-end, combined with mile-long legs gave this woman an aura that, although Harry couldn't truly understand at his age, he couldn't help but instinctively know he would in a few years' time. She wore a pair of boots which had a fairly tight pair of jeans tucked into them, which gave way to a simple white shirt which struggled to contain her breasts whilst a cream-coloured blazer was slung over one shoulder.

Dragging his gaze away from the newcomers, Harry couldn't help but note that his father and Sirius both seemed to be doing their best to NOT look at the woman. He was about to ask who the newcomers were, but before he could he heard the sounds of movement behind him. Snapping he head around, Harry could only watch with profound curiosity as his elder brother was being held back by Rose whilst Iris shook him lightly. Alexander, for his part, had a slightly goofy expression on his face, whilst his eyes appeared somewhat glazed over until Iris seemed to grow tired of his confused state and full-on slapped him across the cheek.

Momentarily stunned, the young man shook his head several times, a confused look plastered on his face. He muttered something that Harry couldn't hear, before Iris responded in kind. A second later, Alexanders' face had gone bright red with embarrassment. Turning away from the approaching woman, he immediately headed further into the medical ward until coming across a door, which he promptly entered – possibly to either madam Pomfrey's office or a balcony that was rumoured to exist.

In his slight haze of confusion, it took Harry several seconds more before he finally realized why his brother, father and godfather / uncle all seemed keen to avoid looking at the woman who had just walked in.

'Of course! She's a Veela – it's the only explanation for Alex's glazed-looking eyes and Dad and Uncle Sirius NOT looking at her.'

Snapping out of his thoughts a second later, Harry was just in time to turn his gaze back to the newcomers quickly enough for their first words.

"Hello there Harry, I do believe young Albus said that you are the young man I have to thank for protecting my life's greatest work, no?" The man said in a very light French accent. However in that moment, Harry was not concerned too much with the man's nationality – but with the words he had spoken.

Young Albus.

My life's greatest work.

"No way…."

Smiling at the young boys reaction, the man and woman let out small laughs of amusement before the woman spoke.

"Despite the fact you obviously know who we are, I do think that proper introductions are in order…." Here the woman bowed her head ever-so-slightly before continuing with her introduction.

"I am Lady Prenelle Flamel, and this is my husband…."

"Nicholas Flamel, although do feel free to call me Nick. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you….." The immortal Alchemist let out a boisterous laugh as he was forced to grab Harry's limp hand and shake it lightly. The moment that happened, Harry managed to snap out of his state of absolute shock and recover enough mental faculties to respond in kind.

"Harry Potter, it's an honour Lord Flamel, Lady Flamel." Harry stated as formally as possible, in an attempt to give off a good first impression to the two world-famous mages. Prenelle smiled beautifully at his response.

"Such beautiful manners, even when bed-ridden. It seems you've raised a lovely young man, Lady Potter." She said kindly to the red-head mother next to her, who glowed at the small praise offered to her by the witch several centuries her senior, despite her far more youthful appearance.

"Thank you, Lady Flamel."

"Please, call me Prenelle." The French legend responded kindly, earning a soft smile and nod of the head from the current Lady Potter. Nicholas, for his part, let out a long sigh of suffering before he decided to speak.

"Oh please my boy, call me Nick or at least Nicholas. Lord Flamel actually makes me feel my age, you know." He responded with a large grin and honest tone of voice, causing Harry to shuffle in a manner that indicated he was slightly uncomfortable with addressing the famous Alchemist is such a casual manner. Prenelle let out a small huff as she playfully pushed her husband.

"Honestly Nicholas, the boy barely knows you. Don't make him do anything he would find uncomfortable." She chided playfully, earning a small pout from Nicholas. The two French legends then set about quickly greeting the remaining people in the room, giving Harry half a minute to collect his thoughts and re-organize his mind.

'Holy fucking shit. These are the Flamels – the actual Immortal Alchemist and his Ritual Mistress, I actually thought they were a myth. This is incredible – I can't believe that they've turned up to just say thank you for saving the stone.

But that can't be the only reason surely? I mean, they must have another copy of the stone somewhere else, it's not like they can't have had the time at any point over the past few centuries … unless it's creation process involves something that they cannot offer up again – but what the hell could that actually be?' Harry thought to himself with a small frown of curiosity gracing his features. The power of the Philosopher's stone demanded by the laws of magic that something of equivalent value be exchanged in order for it to possess its ungodly power, and it was that something that Harry continued to puzzle over until he was finally dragged from his thoughts again by the voice of one Nicholas Flamel.

"So Harry, Albus here told me that it's you me and my lovely wife have to thank for saving our stone from your Defence teacher, is that correct?" Nicholas asked in a friendly tone of voice, his words spoken as a rhetorical question which caused Harry's surrounding family members to beam with pride at his actions. Knowing it best to play the somewhat humble card, Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his head whilst shrugging his shoulders before responding.

"I wouldn't really say I saved it – it was just luck Quirrel managed to, ya know….." However before Harry could finish his statement, he found himself being cut off by the voice of the Lady Flamel.

"Honestly child there is no need to be modest! Had you not been there, the source of mine and Nicholas' extended life-force would long be gone and in the hands of an unscrupulous mercenary, and that is a debt I don't think we can ever fully repay…"

"But we can most certainly make a good go of it!" Nicholas chimed in at the end, earning a light glare from his wife. Pretending to wave off his wife's obvious annoyance, Nicholas' demeanour suddenly became a whole lot more serious when he spoke next.

"As we see it, the only way we could hope to pay you back for putting your life in such considerable risk for us, inadvertent as it may have been, is to offer you an apprenticeship under both me and my wife."

The moment the final few words left the Lord Flamels' mouth, Harry's entire mind seemed to freeze over.

And why wouldn't it?

Nobody save for the single most powerful 'light' Wizard of the past four centuries, Albus Dumbledore himself, had been offered an apprenticeship by the two legendary French mages. They were renounced in France and indeed the rest of the world for their reclusive nature – which is why most people who hadn't seen them thought them to be mere myths or some sort of parable as to what magic could achieve. Harry had too…..

And now here they were offering him the chance to study under them.

Harry could, and probably would have sat there all day in complete and utter shock, but luckily he was saved from such a fate by the velvety voice of Prenelle Flamel.

"Before you jump to any conclusions, I would just like to explain the basic principles of what we are offering you.

First and foremost, we do not intend for this to become a full apprenticeship, at least not until you are older and have graduated from Albus' care. We intend for this to take place over the Summer breaks, during the day so that you can return to your family in the evening. Our offer is obviously completely optional, but even if you ask for a monetary reward or something else entirely, our doors will always be open to you – so that if or when you feel ready, we can teach you what we know." Here Prenelle paused and allowed her husband to pick up from where she left off.

"From what Albus has told us Harry, you're a remarkable young man with an unfathomable amount of potential. And we, like your Hogwarts teachers, would be honoured to be able to help you unlock your full potential and become the best mage that you can be.

But like we said, this is all your choice." Nicholas finished with a small smile that Harry couldn't help but return – it was just bloody infectious.

However that did not spur Harry on to speak, he was just so completely dumbstruck by what he had been told, and was still struggling to process what he had heard. He sat there for what felt like hours, but in reality was possibly a minute at best as he tried to way up the pros and cons of what he had been told. The potential for learning that the two immortal beings were offering him was beyond imagining – after several centuries alive the two of them had probably forgotten more than Harry could ever hope to learn, and still know more than him. Also, as powerful mages in their own right, they would be able to help keep testing Harry's own strength until he finally become too strong for them.

However, their offer did have its drawbacks.

For one, he would be completely unable to see his friends over the Summer if he was training every single day, and he didn't want to fall out of contact with them when he had only just really met them. Also, if he was with the Flamels virtually every waking second, then he wouldn't be able to see little Lucy – and god knows that it had been torture for him going to Hogwarts. If he was in a position where he COULD see his little sister every day and did not, he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to cope. He loved that little girl far too much – but considering she was really the only one who didn't treat Harry differently, it was natural that he'd love her that little bit more.

He was most certainly not a Sis-Con.

At least not yet.

Although he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to visit his sister during a school open day one day in the future (A thought that was shared by a Red-headed Satan in the Underworld at that very same time, causing him to sneeze lightly).

'Stop digressing.' Harry thought to himself.

Shaking his head, Harry continued to weigh up the pros and cons of what the Flamels were offering him. Eventually, after several more seconds of deliberation, Harry finally spoke up.

"I accept your offer, but only under certain conditions." Harry began, drawing delighted yet slightly curious expressions out of everyone present. Once Nicholas and Prenelle had indicated for Harry to continue, he dutifully obliged.

"First of all, I would like to begin my apprenticeship after the first two weeks of the Holidays and end it a week before school starts up again.

As much as I love learning, I have been at school for the past eight months, and I am not keen to lose ALL of my Holidays to studying." Harry began, drawing nods of agreement from all the adults in the room.

"Secondly, I would also like the lessons to only be on week-days. Failing that, I ask Saturday's be a half-day of study and that I get Sundays' off. I don't want to burn out completely over the summer, and I want to be able to spend time with my friends and family." Nicholas nodded whilst Prenelle smiled gently at his words before responding.

"Of course Harry, we were going to suggest something along those lines anyways. You're still only a young boy – there's an entire life-time ahead of you that you can use for learning!"

Nodding his head in response to her agreement, Harry turned his head to face his family, who had gathered at the foot of his bed.

"Obviously though I'd need to get my parents' permission first." He said with a small smirk, knowing full well that his parents would say yes to this offer. And just like he predicted, his father burst out laughing whilst his mother gained a slightly incredulous look at what he had just said.

"If you had said anything BUT yes to Prenelle and Nicholas' offer Harry I would have not allowed you into the Library for the whole Summer." Lilly Potter stated with a rather steely edge to her voice, causing Harry to chuckle nervously – she knew how much he loved the family library, and Harry knew that she was deadly serious with her threat.

"No need to worry mum, saying no didn't even cross my mind!" Harry responded with a nervous smile on his face. Immediately, the current Lady Potter's face lit up in a blinding smile that caused Harry to sweat-drop slightly.

'Talk about a one-eighty much.'

Looking at the rest of his family, Harry could literally feel the pride radiating from all of them, even his siblings.

'Odd. I thought I would see at least a little bit of resentment.' Harry mused to himself. It seemed unnatural to him that not one of his siblings seemed jealous of his offer – instead they all seemed to be bursting with pride at the offer that had been laid before him.

'But why? Why the hell are they not jealous of me? I'm finally in the spotlight for once and they don't seem to give a single shit! What the hell is their angle on all of this, what do they know or have that I don't?' A bitter and angry feeling was slowly worming its way into Harry's heart at the seemingly genuine expressions of his siblings. Even when he was finally proving himself to the world, his siblings didn't look threatened at all by his success, despite their attempts to keep him from the spotlight.

If anything they looked happy about it.

And that both annoyed and disturbed Harry.

'I'll have to figure this out later.' Harry thought to himself as he turned his attention to the madly grinning Sirius Black who had both his thumbs held up and an approving look in his eyes which caused Harry to return his mad grin with a small, reserved smile. His uncle / godfather always knew how to get Harry to smile no-matter the thoughts clouding his mind – it was like the man understood what Harry was feeling. It had always been the same when Harry was younger and writhing in resentment to his older siblings – the head of the Black family always managed to cheer Harry up.

Turning his attention away from his family, Harry turned to his friends. Draco did look slightly jealous for half a second, but a look of resignation and understanding seemed to flash through his eyes before they settled on happiness for Harry, with a smiliar look flashing through both Tracey and Daphne's eyes. In fact, the only person who appeared happy from the outset seemed to be Shirley, who's radiant smile was literally threatening to split her face apart. Initially, Harry wondered if that was because she had come to an understanding within her mind faster than the other three, but that idea was blown out of the window within a second.

Shirley was just genuinely happy for Harry because that's just how she was – the girl seemed literally incapable of holding a grudge or anything. She was just genuinely happy and proud of her friend for being awarded such a prestigious gift.

Turning back to the Alchemists, Harry idly noted as he shifted his gaze the approving and happy look in Dumbledore's eyes, who was undoubtedly proud that his institution had once again produced a mage capable of catching the attention of the famous French mages.

Settling his gaze once again, Harry noted the approving look in the eyes of the Flamels as he met their powerful gazes with his own. A comfortable silence filled the air for several moments before Nicholas broke it by clapping his hands together, a manic grin breaking out across his face and his eyes brimming with mischief.

"Well, it's been lovely meeting you all, but me and Prenelle should return home –we have tort… I mean training to plan out, and we should make a start on planning whilst we still have the chance." Letting out a humour-filled dark chuckle, the Lord Flamel practically skipped out of the medical wing, with his exasperated yet amused wife following after him once she passed on a final message.

"Like my wonderfully mature husband just said, we should get going so that we can begin planning Harry's training. We will discuss detail of transport and what not via letters in a few days time, so don't worry about any of that for now. Enjoy the last few days of school and your holiday when they come…." Here, a purely evil smirk that matched Nicholas in its mischief broke out across the gorgeous Veela's luscious lips.

"Because you're gonna wish you'd ask for a longer break before starting your training with us." And with that, the world-famous mage strolled after her manic husband whilst letting out a chuckle that promised A LOT of hard work.

Harry sat in his hospital bed for several moments before finally breaking the silence.

"I am completely screwed aren't I ?"

And it was all everyone could do to nod in agreement with his statement.

A/N:

And there we finally have chapter 3! This chapter actually changed from what I originally planned for it to be – it was supposed to be the first half of a mini filler arc that basically blizted through Harry's summer training with the Flamels. However, I've decided to do this slightly differently so that you can see some of what Harry learns whilst also having a much greater length of time to understand the development of the relationship between Harry and the two immortals.

Now I know a lot of you are probably pissed at the small role of Sirius thus far in the story. To you I can only apologize – Sirius will play an important role later on, but for the moment he's not really that integral to the plot. He will be – but it's a little while off yet.

I will probably fill this chapter out a little bit more later on with a bit more dialogue between Harry and the rooms other occupants, but I really wanted to develop some of the plot and certain relationships. There'll be plenty of discussion between Harry and his siblings in the next arc that'll more than make up for this – it's just any inclusion of them would have made things more messy.

Anyways, I know this isn't really a great chapter, and I will probably re-write it at some point, but I'd like to think it's not terrible and that it does its job well enough that you won't Internet-Lynch me for now !

Any ways, the Six Nations is about to kick off, and as is my tradition I've got money riding on the opening round, so you'll have to excuse me as I go pray to the goddess of luck that I've made the right calls XD.

So drop me a review and let me know what you liked and did not like about this chapter – what was done well and what could be improved upon, what can stay the same and what can be altered for the future.

Peace folks,

Mantis.