Disclaimer: I still don't own Severus Snape, but who cares...

Author's note: I want to say 'Thank you!' for your reviews. Please enjoy the reading.

A Lesson in History

Blinking Severus Snape opened his eyes, this time however he was not penetrated as vehemently as the last time by the merciless light shining through the window. Probably because it's late evening or early morning, he mused. He suppressed a groan while opening his eyes to slits, so that he could get used to the light.

The ceiling above him looked rather old, at several spots the plaster had crumbled off throughout the pass of the years. Only now did he notice that the architecture of the building did not look familiarly British at all, but had a more Mediterranean touch. Snape would keep that piece of information in mind for further use.

After the painful experience of the last time when he had tried moving too quickly, the former Headmaster decided to approach the matter more carefully; he was after all not a man to make the same mistake twice. For the first time in quite a while Severus felt truly self-conscious about his health, as he carefully moved fingers and toes and tried to assess any damage the poison had done to the muscles of his arms and legs. The pain he felt was nothing compared to what he had become used to from former experience and could most likely be blamed on the lack of use, while he had stayed in the same position for however long he had been wherever he was now.

Feeling more or less safe to move his arm without evoking another pain attack that would end in an uncomfortable flashback the Potion Master lifted his left hand carefully and moved it to the wound on his neck, where Nagini's sharp fangs had pierced his jugular and almost caused him to bleed to death. A thick bandage enveloped his neck and after years of experience with medical treatments of all kind he could feel that it had been quite freshly applied.

Apparently the mysterious and presumed dead alchemist Nicolas Flamel had actually been serious and true to his word by taking care that Snape did survive to fulfil whatever the former spy had gotten himself into this time. In the light of all his past experiences pledging himself so easily to a cause he did not know anything about appeared completely ludicrous to him, now that he had the time and strength to think it over rationally. Being called back from the dead and just having been proven again how little the late Headmaster had actually trusted and appreciated you must have been befuddling your brain, Severus. Pledging yourself to another manipulative, meddling old fool so easily was definitely not the best thing to do before leaving this world forever. Still better than sending Potter to his death, came the after-thought that immediately filled him with guilt and regret.

'Ah, you're finally awake', a soft female voice with a slight accent spoke from next to his bed and made Snape flinch in surprise how someone could have approached him without his notice. Seeing his reaction she tried to reassure him, 'Don't worry, you're safe here. As one of Nicolas' new companions you enjoy our full hospitality and care.

I have taken care of your wound as you have seen. Clever of you to take an antivenin potion in advance, otherwise it would have been almost impossible to find a cure for the poison in time. A few well-applied healing spells plus lots of blood replenishing potions were basically all we needed,' she told him cheerfully.

Not that Severus was ungrateful for such news, but still he dearly wanted to get information about the current situation of the world he was sure to have left for good, as well as the uncomfortable matter of the alchemist's arrangement.

'What…', he croaked, but was immediately surprised and shocked himself at how harsh and weak his voice sounded. Again he tried to clear his throat, but that proved to be an extremely painful thing to do, as he could not help but grimace, before schooling his features into his patented glare. But the woman did not let him finish the question anyway, as she placed her hand on his mouth to effectively keep him from continuing to talk. Quickly she handed him a glass of water and seeing that his hand was shaking slightly, she also supported him at drinking from it, while trying to make the situation as little awkward as possible for him. The liquid felt cool and fresh in his sore throat, so he gladly took a few swallows before handing the glass back to his nurse.

When she had bended over him, Severus had for the first time been able to see her clearly: she was a middle-aged woman of average size with brown hair and slightly tanned skin. Her features were neither strikingly beautiful nor particularly unattractive, but she seemed to emit a certain aura of calmness, friendliness and heartfelt concern that was not even lost on him.

The sound of her voice drew him out of his musings, 'Do not speak yet, your throat is still quite raw and you have not been drinking anything except a few potions I had to feed you while you were unconscious.' At his obvious discomfort at being given unknown substances while being in no position to do something about it, she smiled at him reassuringly, 'Don't worry, I've had almost 600 years of experience in healing people, I doubt you'll find a mediwitch with better credentials.' Almost as an afterthought she added, 'Ah, and if you may wonder who I am, my name is Perenelle Flamel. I'm Nicolas' wife.'

Seeing he was struggling with himself whether to follow the basic rules of courtesy by introducing himself or to follow her instructions by not talking at all, she smiled gently, 'No need to introduce yourself, Severus Snape. Nicolas has already acquainted me with your name and parts of your past.'

Following her line of view Severus was immediately aware that she was looking at the Dark Mark that was still visible on the pale skin of his forearm, a stigma he would never be rid of even after the Dark Lord's destruction.

Suddenly he became aware that he did not even know how the war had really ended the last thing he knew was that Dumbledore had some plan to get Harry Potter back to the realm of the living to defeat the Dark Lord, as the old coot had always intended it to be. But whether the Boy-who-lived had succeeded again in performing a miracle by sheer dumb luck he did not know.

'Potter?', he bit out, before Perenelle could stop him.

'The boy hero of your Wizards' world? He has eliminated the dark sorcerer, who gave you this mark', she told him with a still gentle voice, 'your past is now behind you and you must learn to keep it like that otherwise you will never be free, believe me, I know what I am talking about', she smiled at him, but Severus recognised immediately the sadness in her eyes.

Shaking her head to free herself of whatever miserable thoughts had bothered her she turned back to being the nurse in charge of him. 'Nicolas will explain things to you in more detail, the next time you wake up. You should take these potions now and then return to sleep. Well, you are an alchemist, like Nicolas, so recognising them will not be an issue for you.'

Snape was aware that she mainly wanted to reassure him and give his thoughts another, more familiar direction, but since the woman had been fairly friendly without bothering him by being overly patronising as Poppy Pomfrey had tended to be, he decided to comply with her wishes since it was in his own best interest as well. Even though he was loath to admit it, he was indeed starting to feel quite exhausted from their short exchange already.

Thus he swallowed a nourishment potion, since his throat was still too raw to take proper food. After he had downed a bottle of some general healing potion, another small jar was put into his hand. Carefully Severus took a sniff and recognised it as an ointment meant to heal his throat. As this process would take several hour, he was not surprised that the last bottle he was given was a sleeping potion. Immediately after downing it he felt his eyelids grow heavy and his consciousness drift away, as a soft hand pried the bottle gently out of his fingers.

Loud noises woke Severus from his potion induced sleep. Upon opening his eyes and directing his gaze in the direction of the commotion, while trying to move his head as little as possible, he found Perenelle Flamel and her husband moving a stretcher to another bed in the infirmary. The man lying on that stretcher, who their attention currently was on, was bleeding from several wounds on his body and his face looked drawn and pale.

With quick, practiced movements the nurse attended to her patient, while her husband stepped aside, leaving her to her personal field of expertise, knowing he would only stand in the way. Only when turning around Nicolas Flamel noticed the dark-haired wizard observing them. With a smile he stepped towards Severus' bed and the younger man was uncomfortably reminded of Albus Dumbledore, when he noticed a jovial twinkle spark in his eyes.

'Bonjour, mon ami. How are you?'

'I doubt we are well enough acquainted to be considered friends, Monsieur Flamel,' Severus replied dryly, 'but as for your question, let me assure you I am feeling much better than the last time we met.' Flamel smiled at the sarcasm contained in the statement.

He'd better be forthcoming with information; I'm not in a patient mood today, not that I ever am.

'I see you have come to appreciate what an excellent healer my wife is, she will also tend to Faolan, a companion of ours, as you have noticed us enter before. Do not worry, we are used to dealing with such events quite often.' Seeing that Severus was beginning to furrow his brow in impatience, he quickly continued, 'let me get to issues that are of more immediate concern for you, Severus Snape.

I may not have been as precise about the intentions of my "League of Gentlemen" as I should have been, before hiring you, but I will make up for that. Since the circumstances under which I had to approach you did not allow a longer negotiation' – Severus snorted at that – 'I will give you the chance to reconsider your decision of following me, as you have not yet made any binding vow or contract. Since our arrangement would be of a more time-extended nature than the ones you have found yourself in already, I want no doubt on your behalf whether this is what you want. Should you wish to back out, all I will require of you is an oath to keep silent about my existence and the secrets, I am going to entrust to you.'

Flamel looked at him expectantly, surely waiting for some sort of reply. No doubt he had some very good sources of information to make such a statement, somehow he must have known about Dumbledore's manipulative schemes or at least parts of them.

'Trying to lure me into your band by rubbing into my face how much you trust me,' Severus sneered at him, 'surely someone of your reputation as scribe and masterly manipulator could come up with something more inventive. Tell me, Monsieur Nicolas Flamel – if that is indeed, who you really are, as I have yet to see a proof for this claim – how come you are so interested in acquiring the services of a humble potion master, who you approach at the brink of death no less, when you are known as one of the greatest alchemists of the past centuries?'

Flamel still gave no sign of irritation at that tirade, but rather jovially replied, 'I have been wondering, when you would come up with these questions. I also want to answer your former question to Perenelle about the outcome of the war that nearly devastated the magical community of your country, since these are all closely connected.'

Seeing that Snape had raised his eyebrow expectantly and his features clearly spoke for him 'I'm all ears', Flamel started his recount: 'You might recall the episode with the Philosopher's Stone a few years ago. What was guarded at Hogwarts was indeed a valid version of that rare creation, the Holy Grail of Alchemy, if you want. But unlike the Christian grail, the Philosopher's Stone is not unique and it can be created more often than once, the only reason, why one might not try that, is that the process in itself is highly complex, takes years of precise work and is even after a previous success and intense knowledge of the detail of every step not immune to failure. You may believe me, I have learnt that from bitter experience. Only Albus Dumbledore's dire need decades ago, long before your time, motivated me to attempt a new try at the creation with his assistance, it still took years of trials and more than one failure.'

'I see. So nobody saw the fault in logic, when assuming that you had mysteriously survived for 500 before ever creating the Stone with Dumbledore's appreciated assistance, only to die after its untimely destruction,' the Potion Master, intent to hide his sparked interest, sneered and continued sardonically, 'lack of logical thinking has always been a major demerit of the magical community.'

'A fact that you have always been well aware of, I think. I was most pleased and interested, when checking out the 'traps', to keep out unintended visitors, that I found one that asked for pure intellect, not requiring any previous knowledge of plant properties, spells or even the rules of chess. I have later on inquired about you and Albus informed me among other things about your role as his spy…'

At that Severus deeply furrowed his brows in suspicion and barely disguised anger. 'How typically like Albus to share confident information with the most inappropriate of people!', he spat at the Alchemist. 'And "among other things", what else did he tell you? Some heart-wrenching story about regrets and second chances? That was all lies!', he growled, getting het up more and more, 'The world does not grant second chances, death is the only penance we can do, and YOU, like Albus so many years ago, took that chance from me as well!' During his rant he had not noticed that his wound had opened again, Flamel's hands on his shoulders trying to push the agitated man down, brought him back to reality. The bandage already felt damp with blood, the loss of which made him feel dizzy for a moment. Quicker than even Nicolas himself could react, Perenelle was at his bed and performing a strong healing spell that closed the wound, before she changed the bandages.

However embarrassing, it at least served the purpose to give him a chance to calm down and stop himself from revealing anything else, fearing that he had granted the mysterious alchemist too much insight into his thoughts already.

'You have almost given me a heart attack!', the nurse scolded him, before turning towards her husband and showering him in a tirade that Snape could not understand due to lack of sufficient knowledge of the French language, but her tone alone told him that he had gotten off lightly compared to the furious woman's husband.

With a loud snort the woman finally turned on her heel and made her way towards the other patient's bed, who was apparently unconscious, as he had not even stirred throughout the whole commotion. Satisfied that her duty was fulfilled properly, she shot one last warning glare towards Nicolas, before strutting out of the room. As the other man turned towards him looking slightly abashed, Severus could not hold his tongue, 'apparently hell has no wrath like that woman, when seeing her patients mistreated.' Then added silkily: 'I will keep that in mind as future … leverage.' Hah, you did not really expect I'd let you have the upper hand during this whole session.

Flamel looked a bit embarrassed, as he cleared his throat, before commenting with a grave tone: 'I must ask your forgiveness, I did not consider your condition, when making this ah, … little diplomatic statement. You can be assured that your former employer has not been forthcoming with personal information regarding your unfathomable motivations, he did however assure me of your good intentions.'

'… which have paved the pass to hell for me quite literally.'

Flamel smiled briefly at the dry comment, but continued completely unimpressed: 'I do not want to plunge into your past. If you should however agree to my arrangement, you will have to draw a line under your past forever, talking about it might be a good way to do so.' Seeing the suspicious and quite unnerved glare of the younger man directed at him, he quickly continued, trying to reassure: 'I will not force anything upon you however.'

Severus just snorted in disbelief. Lo and behold, a likely story!

'To get straight to the point' – now that would certainly be a novelty, after he has wasted already at least an hour of precious, prattling about trivialities, maybe with the exception of the knowledge that at least one other version of the Philosopher's Stone existed – 'I have approached you, because I require someone with your experience in mind magic, as well as the abilities that made you such a good spy, gathering information inconspicuously, blending in among the shadier contemporaries efficiently, just to mention a few. The fact that you are a potion master, and most likely more familiar with recent developments on the field, than I am, is an added bonus.'

'Flattery will get you nowhere,' Severus growled at him, 'I've become as immune to it as to the insults, I hear so frequently. So please, spare me that prattle. Just stay true to your word and get to the point.'

'Very well,' replied the alchemist with a sigh, 'In order to understand my motivations and intentions, you must however learn about my past, little of which is known aside from rumours. I will introduce you to some of these well-guarded secrets now; consider it a "Lesson in History", one you have certainly never heard before.

I am sure you are familiar with the official story about my life in Paris in the 14th century, my marriage, my mysterious pilgrimage to St. James, Santiago de Compostela, and I will therefore skip that. But you may not have known that it was not I who invented or even discovered by experimentation the formula for the Philosopher's Stone. My main accomplishment lay in translating an ancient journal and later executing its instructions, which took me many years of my life. However when I turned it into my personal quest of life to translate a mysterious book, little did I know that the journey would become more important than the goal itself. That book was the Book of Abraham the Jew, also called the Codex, written on bark instead of parchment.'

'Would it be too much to ask of you, to not make it sound like a fairy tale, you would tell a child? You might as well skip this mystery nonsense about higher goals, that only serve to hide ulterior motives and just get straight on with it.'

Flamel looked far more cheerful than he should have after such a harsh comment and the answer he received cost the former Headmaster all the restraint he had left to keep himself from rolling his eyes like an immature child. 'Now I understand, what Albus meant with "refreshing sarcasm and unvarnished criticism".

Eh bien, to keep it short and straightforward: after I had successfully created the Philosopher's Stone and brewed the Elixir of Youth with its help. I thought that the journey was at an end, I could leave the Codex to my heirs to give them the chance to uncover its secrets, while I would lead a life of 'happy ever after' with my wife. We feigned our deaths and because Perenelle was during the first years downcast at living within reach of her family, but not being able to approach them, we left the country completely and travelled first through Europe, then further east to China and even Japan. I have always had a talent for learning languages, which was extremely helpful for translating the Codex, and thus could remain rather inconspicuous during our travels.

When we returned to France in the 17th century, we found that one of my descendants, who unfortunately happened to be the heir of the Book of Abraham, used the family heirlooms to show off in front of the king of France himself. It was of little surprise that his majesty would be interested in the art of turning lead into gold. At least the poor fool did not possess any knowledge of value in that regard, thus was imprisoned and even condemned to death. All the while the Codex was confiscated by l'Éminence grise, Cardinal Richelieu, 'the grey Eminence', himself.

He was determined to find out the secrets to book held and use them for his own purposes. Therefore he immediately erected a laboratory at the Chateau of Rueil, which he often visited to read through my manuscripts and to try to interpret the ancient hieroglyphs. Fortunately he did not have my talent for languages, neither had his lackeys, so that his attempts at uncovering the secrets of the tome were in vain. After his death we, meaning Perenelle, my apprentice at that time, George Starkey, and I, recovered the book and from then on kept it hidden with us at all times.'

'George Starkey, the first serious American alchemist, who taught in London for years? I would have thought that he died in 1665, but apparently you were not the only one to feign death.'

'You're not mistaken; I will tell you what became of him soon. But first things first. When I opened the Codex after so much time, I was stunned with surprise: the letters in it had changed, not just the words, but the symbols themselves, it was a completely different language. At first I thought it was a fake and the real book had been lost throughout the centuries, but then I saw the shifting of the letters with my own eyes. I do not know what had caused this, since I have owned and closely studied the book for years, but never seen any change of the symbols before. It might have been some kind of ill-attempted try to perform dark magic on the book, but truth be told I do not know until now.

With the assistance of Mr. Starkey and my wife of course I tried to translate the new passages appearing on the paper, but apparently George was a bit luckier than I, as he found out, how to summon the creatures and powers, which he assumed behind this and did so without notifying me.'

'He betrayed you?', Severus made it sound more like a statement of incredulity than an actual question. George Starkey, as he had known him from his published works, had appeared to him as not only as a genius on his field of study, but also a man of strict principles.

'Yes. Unfortunately he had to pay for his arrogance or, whatever else motivated him, with his life. Perenelle found his notes containing the translations, and only 2 days later we came upon his mutilated body that was barely recognisable as human anymore. Authorities called it a tragic accident, but we knew from the notes that it could only have been the creatures, he had summoned. Even though Starkey was dead the deed was done and the creatures that he had called into existence were back in our world and determined to lay hand on the book in order to lay the path to get the rest of their race back into our world. Ever since then, we have been on the run, hiding with the book, trying to find some of its secrets that could help us or give us clues about our adversaries.'

This sounded rather vague in Severus' ears, either the man wanted to keep something from him, just another reason to mistrust him, or he did not know enough himself, which was little reassuring. 'So what is the nature of your adversaries, or does that also exceed your current knowledge?', he drawled.

'The creatures we are talking about would most likely be defined as demons, even though they are very creative and intelligent. They are immortal and some of them have gained some fame throughout human history filling the position of mythological gods or goddesses.'

Snape drew in a breath in surprise, before hissing his next question: 'And what kind of gods would you be talking about? I suppose Amor and Dionysus are off the list.'

'Indeed, the ones we are talking about had more martial motivations. From ancient Egyptian Bastet and Anubis to Norse Thor and Odin many prominent members of the pantheons belong to their kind.'

'You are doing nothing to reassure me,' sneered the Potion Master, 'Fighting against the VIPs of mythology of who knows how many ancient cultures does not appear to be a pleasant way to spend eternity. As Homer already wrote: "He lives not long who battles with the immortals, …"'

'Maybe it does reassure you that I have been doing exactly that for 350 years now. But I clearly get your point, a century after the original summoning of the first of the demons Perenelle and I finally realised that as well and decided that this was not a fight that we could fight and hope to win on our own; we needed help from people with experience in dealing with magical dangers, commanding troops, sneaking and hiding or translation and alchemy. Thus the 'Alchemist's League' was called into existence, but since it is not only a highly dangerous, but also an extremely secretive work that we are dedicating our lives to, there is no chance of hiring people 'the normal way', via advertisements in newspapers or whatever else. The only way to keep ahead of our enemy is to be unknown and the only people unsuspected are the dead. '

'Indeed? Pray tell me, master of necromancy, calling back people from the dead and using their rather helpless state is your standard way of recruiting? You are even more disgusting than the Dark L… Voldemort,' Severus spat at the man with all venom he could muster.

'You misunderstand me, I do not want to force anything upon anyone against their will,' Flamel almost pleaded with him.

Snape only raised his eyebrow sardonically. 'Really?', he drawled, 'Assume I would not wish to participate in your little war of immortals versus demons they have called upon the earth themselves, what would you do? Poison my water? Denounce me to whoever is currently most interested in ridding the world of my presence?'

'You have no good opinion of me,' was the disappointed sounding reply of the alchemist. At that the Potion Master could only snort in disdain, 'I have little reason to have one of humans in general.'

'I have already told you and I stand by my word: You have the chance to back out without any consequences for you and spend with the rest of your life however you please. All I have to ask of you is an oath never to speak about any of that to anyone, who is not in my confidence already.'

'And…?', drawled Snape, disbelief clearly evident in his voice.

'The rest is up to you. I'd better leave you some time to think now.' Considering that as good a closure of the conversation as any, Flamel turned to leave Severus to his thoughts.

No sooner had the door closed behind Flamel than a loud shout sounded through the room. 'You are really THE Severus Snape?!'