May 3, 1991.

"So… Ares. James. Black." Perenelle punctuated each word, seemingly trying to deliver some hidden meaning. "Your father and I have come to an agreement regarding your lessons." Seeing the boy raise his eyebrow at the words and the thoughts flitting through his mind, she smothered a smirk. You have no idea what you will face, child. "You shall be taught at the mansion four days a week, with every alternate day to do with as you please. You shall arrive and depart by the portkey I shall procure for you. Beware, any other means of transportation will only result in the wards bouncing you quite some distance off; and that is only because you are keyed into the wards as a guest. A stranger trying to enter my dwelling will be… Let's just say they don't call me a Wardmaster because of my looks."

Ares bobbed his head, wondering where this was going.

Yesterday, during their meeting at the fair, Lady Flamel had provided them with a portkey that would take them to Flamel Mansion this morning. While Ares had not planned on asking her for lessons, Pad had convinced him that they would not find a better Wardmaster than Perenelle Flamel. He was still reluctant to take up the offer; considering the turn his last meeting with a Wardmaster took. However, Pad had managed to convince him, telling him that Lady Flamel had centuries of knowledge and could be of excellent help with his experiments. While his father did look rather pained at the words, Ares had grinned in delight, wondering at all the spells he could get his hands on.

This morning, the portkey had transported him and his father to the gardens surrounding Flamel Mansion, where Perenelle Flamel stood waiting for them. After the initial greetings, his father and Flamel had sent him, via house elf, into the public library in the Manor while they discussed the arrangements. While he wanted to have a say in what he was taught, Pad had firmly put his foot down and told him that the agreement was between the adults. While he had agreed grudgingly, all thoughts of the agreement flew out of his mind once he laid eyes on the library.

The library, while not the personal collection of the Flamels, was two storeys tall and held hundreds of books. The light blue walls and the bright light streaming in through the windows only served to highlight the vast expanse of knowledge. Grinning to himself at the thought of obtaining access, Ares had immediately bounded off towards the shelves. While the shelves were not filled with long lost tomes, there were several books he had thought lost to the decades or at the hands of governments. He had grabbed a few and occupied an armchair to begin skimming through the pages.

He was fully immersed in a book on druidic magic when Perenelle had entered the library to inform him about his new apprenticeship.

Acknowledging his nod with one of her one, Perenelle continued speaking. "Your father and I agreed that I would take you as my apprentice. I will be teaching you everything you need to own to obtain a mastery of Wards and Ward-breaking. I shall pass on the knowledge of the wards of the old days, and those employed by the various thaumaturgical systems of the world. You will learn the nature of such wards and the skill and power required to handle them, both of the basal and esoteric variety. However, I need you to answer one simple question."

"Which is?" Ares couldn't help but ask. He did love her offer. Not only was she offering to teach him all her knowledge on the subject, she was also going to teach him those which were lost to history. He was happy; but her last sentence had put him on edge.

"What is it that you desire?" Perenelle asked, drawling the words out at the end.

"Excuse me?" Ares looked confused. "I want to learn warding like my father-"

"Enough with the evasions!" Perenelle replied, a touch of exasperation lining her otherwise ethereal voice. Seeing the confusion on the boy's face, she turned around and walked across the room to the window. Staring at the cloudless sky, she said "You father has mentioned - rather evasively, I might add - about a condition that makes it necessary for you to become as powerful as possible in a very short amount of time." She paused. "Now, normally one would think that it is because you are the Boy-Who-Lived and there might be extremists who would want you dead out of spite, but something tells me that it is not the reason you are being weaponized."

Pausing her words, she turned to face Ares and asked "So, I will ask you again. What is it that you really desire? Why must you grow stronger than most adult wizards before you even obtain your OWL's? Why should you learn a skill as intricate and difficult as Warding when most children your age barely learn to levitate a feather?"

Ares had immediately raised his Occlumency shields to prevent his emotions from showing on his face. They weren't too strong yet - He was only a budding level three Occlumens at this moment, and that too was because he could use his magic to reinforce his mental fortitude.

The woman facing him was slightly… odd; he knew that back at the fair. He did not know how, but he knew she was odd. She moved and talked with the grace of nobility, but there was something that set her apart from the rest of the world. And it frustrated him that he could not put his finger on the why.

"I'm… not sure what you mean, Ma'am." Ares hedged, not wanting to give away anything.

Perenelle smirked at the poor attempt at evasion and turned back to face the sky. "You have a long way to go, little Ares. You have not answered my questions. Besides, you do wish to gain the power you seek, do you not? Why else would you seek the tome you held in your hands during our meeting yesterday?"

Ares thanked his stars that he had good grasp of Occlumency, or his shock would have shown on his face. Keeping his voice carefully neutral, he said "It was a simple book, Lady Flamel. Nothing to be exci-"

Perenelle spun around, her features twisted in exasperation and eyes hard as steel. "Don't play games with me, boy. I know the tome you held. It lured you in. It recognized the blood in you and called you in to take its possession. Didn't it?"

Ares stared at the woman, trying very, very hard to not admit it to himself, that despite training for over half his life, there was something about Perenelle Flamel that made him want to run for the hills, his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

Steeling himself from the urge to flee, he looked at her in the eyes. He wondered how she would know of the tome and the circumstances behind his acquisition of said tome.

"How… how do you know that?" He asked slowly.

Perenelle ignored his question. "Have you… perchance, managed to open the tome?"

Ares nodded slowly.

Perenelle narrowed her eyes at the boy and asked "Did you read the name?"

Ares stared at her, expression neutral, and nodded. "I couldn't read the words. The entire book is written in some language I've never seen before."

Perenelle widened her eyes momentarily before her expression blanked out. "I… see." She seemed to ponder the next words. Giving him a quick onceover, she said "However, that doesn't mean that I don't know who you are, Heir of Slytherin."

Eyes widening in shock, and not without a little bit of fear, Ares looked at her in the eye. Eyes and mind scanned the library for available escape routes as he prepared to draw his wand, knowing full well that the wards surrounding the Manor would kill him if he tried to harm the owners. Shoving the fear to the back of his mind, he asked "How do you know that?"

If she noticed his shift in demeanour, Perenelle did not comment. She merely raised an eyebrow at the question. "I am over six hundred years old, young heir. I believe I can safely say that I have seen and heard a lot of things in my life."

Ares subtly shifted, ready to flee. "That still doesn't explain how you know."

Perenelle smirked at the boy in front of her. "No, it doesn't. For the moment, it does not matter. Now, if you are the heir of Slytherin, you must be facing the problems the previous two Lords had encountered."

Still tensed, Ares looked at her for any sign of falsehood, but found none. Which wasn't surprising considering he was dealing with someone who had centuries on him. It rankled him that he could not get answers from her, but she did know about his situation and could, perhaps, show a solution. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked at her with a quiet resolve. "Parasitic Family Magic."

"Precisely." Perenelle intoned. "That tome, which you are so ignorant of, is one of the most priceless treasures in the world; The lost Slytherin Grimoire, said to have been stolen around fifteen hundred years ago."

Ares gaped in absolute disbelief. Sometimes, he really hated his stupid luck. If it wasn't finding an answer for a spell, it was landing a priceless tome in his hands without his knowledge. Argh! Somebody out there must be laughing at me right now.

Perenelle smiled in amusement. "It is called the… Oghma Infinium.Over the centuries, the lure of the tome and the ancient knowledge present within the pages has drawn the attention of treasure hunters, goblin curse-breakers and archaeologists alike."

Shaking off his shock for the being – he could find a corner to shut down later – Ares asked "If it is the Slytherin Grimoire, why can't I read it?"

"Because you aren't worthy yet." Perenelle answered.

Worthy? Her words resonated deep within the mind of Ares as a flash of something – almost a memory - the sensation of having heard the words before. They hung on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he dismally failed when he tried to remember it. A better question came up, as he stared at her.

"And how do you know that?" At Perenelle's scowl, Ares suppressed his urge to grimace. "Right. Six hundred years and all that." He rubbed the back of his head as he continued, "Can you tell me how I can become…um, worthy?"

"When you are powerful enough to wield the Slytherin Magic." Perenelle answered briskly.

"I haven't wielded the Slytherin magic, but I have… well, held it. It's strange." Ares said, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

Perenelle's eyes turned to slits. "Prove it." Her voice was positively hissing at the end.

Ares closed his eyes. As always, he focused his senses on his core. Unlike the perception of the general public, a magical core was not some glowing sun that was located in the chest. It was a continuous stream of energy that flowed through the body along metaphysical nervous system responsible for the flow of magic through the body. Focusing on said core gave a mage conscious awareness of the magic flowing through their body. With enough practice, and experience, a mage could always be in tune with their flow.

While Ares did not have the experience necessary to maintain a constant awareness of his power, he could consciously focus on the flow, allowing him to manipulate it to a certain degree. Focusing on the stream, he pushed his intent towards the stream. Once he felt his magic respond, he opened his eyes to the killing curse green of the Slytherin Magic coiled around his upper body. Looking up at Perenelle, he asked, near snarky in tone. "Proof enough for you?"

"Yes. Very" Perenelle's eyes gleamed with some unidentifiable emotion as she stared transfixed at the aura swirling around the descendant of a long lost lineage. "I'm sorry for doubting you." The clipped and harsh tones of her voice were abandoned. "Despite your… ability to wield the magic, you have still been judged unworthy by the Grimoire. Perhaps we will find out the answer."

Ares stared at her. Bloody hell! She never gave a straight answer. There was more going on here and he was going to find out what.

Oblivious to his inner thoughts, Perenelle continued speaking. "That brings us back to my initial query. Your father has stated how you have an affinity to offensive magic. He also mentioned your prodigal ability to wield Dark Magic, displayed under the tutelage of a fancy teacher."

Ares inwardly smirked. The Lady Flamel had no idea about how fancy his Dark Arts teacher was.

"Your father-" Perenelle continued. "-wants me to teach you Wards and ward-breaking. However, as useful as Warding is for learning to manipulate one's own magic, there are other… unorthodox methods of learning magic-manipulation while also amplifying your power."

Ares was now giving her his fullest attention. "Like Rituals?" Ares asked, his ears perked up. "of which I know nothing about."

Perenelle smirked. The boy would learn to hide things with time. He was still far too transparent. "Rituals and other forms of esoteric magics that have been declared so dangerous that anyone found practicing them are immediately executed."

"I didn't know that either." Ares interrupted.

"However, such magics are almost extinct in the modern world, and are classified as forbidden by magical governments the world over. The reason they are classified as such is because only those with a thorough understanding of the ancient arts may use them without unleashing an army of corpses or accidentally loose wild hellfire."

"That I did know." Ares interrupted again, ignoring his mind's attempts to remind him of his experiments on wild Fiendfyre.

Perenelle wanted to yell at the irritant in front of her but she suppressed the urge. "Yes." She replied, a chill seeping into her voice. "However, all modesty aside, I am an expert on such matters and can impart my knowledge and skill in them to yo-"

"But there is a catch." Ares interrupted again.

"A favour. Yes." Perenelle forced a smile on her face. "I will do all I can to turn you into the most feared mage in modern history - far more powerful than you need to stabilize your Slytherin Family Magic." She almost sneered at the end, "But you will need to grant me a favour after the end of your apprenticeship, when I ask for it."

Ares looked sceptical. "How do I know that the favour wouldn't be something like… making me give you control over my Family Magics or even worse, make me your slave or something?"

Perenelle supressed a snort. "If it helps, the favour that I need you to do is to help me cast one single spell. I assure you, it is not my intention to cause any kind of harm to you, magically, physically or emotionally."

Ares narrowed his eyes. His tendency to behave as a petulant child was a rather… nice way for him to manipulate adults to lose their cool and give out more info than they usually would. Padfoot had said that, apparently, he was like Grandfather Arcturus in that manner.

"Can you swear an oath on it?"

Perenelle swore the oath without comment. Years later, Ares would understand that it was only a testament to Perenelle Flamel's magical strength that she did not require a wand or a bonder as the powerful oath held, the sealing magic flaring out of her vividly.

Ares did not comment.

Perenelle eyed the not-so-innocent ten-year-old cautiously. Her new apprentice did hold onto several childish tendencies, but those emerald eyes hid an intelligence rarely seen at his age. "You do understand that in order for me to teach you all I can, you have to be my oath-sworn apprentice. It means that, as long as you are my apprentice, you cannot share the knowledge I impart to you, either willingly or not."

Padfoot… Ares realised. It meant that he would be keeping secrets from his father. His original instinct was to yell "BOLLOCKS" and walk out, but the two years of tutelage under Aunt Cassie had given him better control of his impulsive tendencies. He had also observed that while his father was willing to allow him to learn powerful magic, there were lines that his father would never allow him to cross. Lines that Ares knew he would have to ignore if he were to truly become one of the most accomplished Masters of the Magical Arts. Unnoticed by him, the greenish hue around his magical core closed in just a tad tighter.

"What if…. my father or anyone else comes to know about what I have been learning?" Ares asked, no longer behaving as a petulant kid. "Unintentional on my part, I mean."

Perenelle smirked. "We will worry about the issue when it arises."

Ares grinned. "In that case, I agree to grant you the favour, conditional on me completing the apprenticeship." He held his white wand and swore the apprentice oath which took effect as soon as a bluish sheen radiated out of him. "What will you be teaching me?"

Perenelle smirked. "We are going to develop your mental faculties first to ensure you understand what you are taught, and then… Once you are ready, we will begin to bath in eternal fire, bargain with devils and dance with Death."

Under his pact with Lady Flamel, Ares's life had taken a major shift in its course. Ever since the day they had learnt what possession of the Slytherin Family Magic meant for Ares, he and Pad had spent countless hours trying to understand his condition and tried every method they could to quickly stabilize the Magic before it consumed his inheritance. All his training with Pad, his experiments into power amplification and strengthening, even his training in the Dark Arts; all of it was devoted to that objective.

Under the tutelage of Perenelle Flamel, that which had previously been only a means to help stabilize his Slytherin Family magic had become an objective far more ambitious. Every alternate day, Ares would visit the Flamel Mansion using the portkey issued by Perenelle, and spend his time developing his mind arts and improving his theoretical ability on his previously studied subjects until six in the evening after which he would return home to Black Manor.

The other days would be spent with his father, either improving his duelling technique or studying various subjects such as Transfiguration, charms and potions. Despite Sirius's attempts to push him out of the Manor to have fun beyond his studies, Ares's concept of having fun was interpreted as performing experiments on magical spells and concepts, experiments that more than often resulted in scorch marks, burns and nearly demolishing entire rooms. Understandably, Kreacher hated the young Master with a passion; especially when he wasn't feeling proud of having a Master well-versed in the magics that House Black was actually notorious for.

At the end of the day, Perenelle Flamel proved to be a notorious taskmaster. No wait, scratch that, she was a slave-driver. She had all but refused to teach him anything until he had developed his mindscape and shields to become an adept third-level Occlumens. While Aunt Cassie had merely mentioned an obscure method to develop his mental defences, Madame Flamel had outright demanded that he practiced using the same. That had been a rather… illuminating discussion.

"The usual method of developing Occlumency shields involves a lot of meditation and concentrated focus on finding your mental shields and learning to develop them. While the method is known to help one create suitable defences to protect one's mind, it is not an effective path to help one defend against high-powered Legilimency attacks. A fourth-level Legilimens would tear through the shields as though they were mere parchment."

Looking at the boy in front of her, Perenelle continued her lesson. "The sorcerers of antiquity had another approach, one that would seem highly unorthodox and extreme to you. You might not want to approach your training in this manner, but… if you do choose to go through it, and maintain your sanity, you will never have to fear for the secrets in your mind again."

"And what… is this unorthodox way?" Ares asked, not without some trepidation. The two of them were seated in armchairs opposite each other in the public library of Flamel Mansion.

Perenelle glanced at him with a strange expression. "It has long been theorized that magic is just like any muscle in the body. Once the skill is developed – no matter how rudimentary it may be – it is ingrained into your body. I believe the term used is 'muscle memory'. The greater time and effort spent in developing said skill, more effective does the body become in using said skill." Steeping her palms on her lap, she leaned forward. "Based on this premise, it is theorized that even the most rudimentary of Occlumency shields could become capable of repelling high-powered Legilimency attacks."

"Oh."

"Be warned. There are… issues in pursuing this path." Perenelle replied as an afterthought.

From his experiences with her methods, Ares knew well that rejecting the technique was not an option. Perenelle Flamel never gave anyone a choice – you merely had the illusion of choice. If Perenelle Flamel wanted you to do something, you did it - whether by hook or by crook.

Ares nodded in response. "What… kind of issues?"

"Well," Perenelle drawled. "for one, it requires a person to have a higher pain threshold. One must be able to hold his emotions under control despite being exposed to his most horrible nightmares."

Ares widened his eyes. "And what if… what if the person loses control?"

"They waste their time writhing on the floor, crying in agony, still being forced to relive their most painful and humiliating memories."

"Right…" Ares replied, wondering if he would get through this with his sanity intact.

Perenelle smiled with thinly veiled amusement. "I should also inform you that apart from making your shields stronger, this method does not help you in any other aspect of Occlumency. You will still need to pursue the traditional methods to gain the benefits that a complete training confers. If you don't, you will remain a third-level Occlumens, albeit one with highly powerful defences."

"Oh." That was all Ares had to say. He really hoped he'd be in one piece at the end of his apprenticeship.

That was how Ares found himself on the floor, doing his very best to not yell out in agony, as he was forced to live his nightmares; watching his parents die over and over, hearing that dry, cold laughter as the green light of the killing curse snuffed the life out of his mother, his Pad being kidnapped and tortured in front of him, even his Aunt Cassie appeared mutilated in them and worst of all, was the all-encompassing darkness that surrounded him in a field of depressing fury. On the third continuous week 0f getting exposed to such attacks, something snapped in him.

The hot, bubbling rage that usually manifested when he was angered had died. A cold, freezing blizzard of hate had replaced it.

The next day, he had managed to fend off his tutor's Legilimency attacks for over forty minutes before succumbing to magical exhaustion.

"You were acceptable, I suppose." Ares's tutor drawled. "We will begin your education on the theory of the esoteric arts. From your memories, it seems you have a decent grounding in the Dark Arts. I am not sure if you are aware of it, but parts of your mindscape are either hidden or sealed. Did you know that?"

Ares nodded. "Secrecy oaths, and memory-locking charms."

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. What the boy could possibly have discovered to resort to such measures was beyond her. Then again, this was not just another child she was dealing with.

Ares got up from the floor of the library, cleared the dust on his robes with a wave of his wand and fidgeted on his feet. Appearing to steel himself, he looked up and said "Madame Flamel…?"

"Yes?" Perenelle answered, wondering what the boy wanted.

"I was wondering when I would be able to learn Legilimency." said Ares.

"Ah." Perenelle deadpanned. "And what do you think Legilimency is?"

Ares tilted his head and replied "It is the generic opposite of Occlumency, as per as the texts I have studied." His intuition warned him he was dead wrong.

Proving his instincts were true, Perenelle frowned. "Wrong!"

Ares looked confused. "Isn't Legilimency the offensive side of the Mind Magic?"

Perenelle pursed her lips. It seemed like the boy needed to be freed of some critically stupid information first. "First, do not use the term 'Mind Magic' to describe what you are studying. The arts and powers of the human mind are far too diverse to be put in simple categories like Occlumency and Legilimency."

Ares nodded. Internally, he groaned at the feeling at his tutor would be correcting most of his known theory on obscure arts.

Seeing the boy nod in affirmation, Perenelle continued her lecture. "Legilimency is a form of offensive mental art, Yes. Legilimency is the generic opposite of Occlumency? NO."

"No?" asked Ares.

"NO." Perenelle deadpanned.

"Okay."

Perenelle suppressed a smirk at the boy's expression. "The simplest and correct explanation of the relationship between Occlumency and Legilimency is that the two arts complement, not contradict one another. I do understand your confusion in the distinction, especially when you consider most wizards-" she sneered at the word. "-consider Legilimency as a brute force attack that is designed to rape the secrets from the mind of a target."

"What else can we do with them?" Ares looked excited.

"You would like to know, wouldn't you…" Perenelle smirked, as she wandlessly summoned a tome on esoteric magical theory and handed it to Ares. "I am not going to teach you spell craft, neither will I teach you any form of magical combat. You will study this text, perform research using the tomes from the Family libraries available to you. Depending on the situation, you might receive permission to peruse my library at my discretion."

Ares looked like someone had banned him from experimenting for an entire year. "But…"

"No buts." Perenelle replied. "Teaching you spells or duelling is useless. You can find dozens of tutors around the word. And you have far more knowledge than most, right at your fingertips."

Ares had visibly wilted. "But your library wi-"

"Enough!' Perenelle snapped. "You are a descendant to three Great Ancient families. The Potters and their ancestors can be traced back to the time of the Greeks, before the Roman empire even existed. They were one of the major strongholds and guardians of the Kingdom of Albion under the Pendragon banner."

"The Blacks trace their lineage to the founding of the early Egyptian dynasties, some of the most advanced practitioners of Soul and Necromantic magics and considered to possess one of the most comprehensive knowledge bases on the vilest of such magics. There is a reason why the people of Camelot referred to them as the Black sorcerers – practitioners of a magic so foul that even the greatest Dark Arts of the era could be likened to mere battle-magic. That is how the House of Black came into existence."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "Finally, the family of Slytherin could trace their origins from the mystical land of Shamballa deep within the gorging Himalayas, a place as old as the earth itself. You have access to libraries that most masters would kill for. As an heir to three ancient lines, it would be rather disgraceful to search for answers from my personal collection and condemning your own as inferior."

"I am not condemning them. I was just-"

Perenelle raised her hand, ending the line of conversation. "If your father will not allow you to peruse through the finer sections of the Black library, then I am afraid you will have to exercise subtlety. After all, you are THE Heir of Black."

Ares widened his eyebrows. "You read my mind." There was accusation in his voice. He was both shocked and afraid that she could read his mind like an open book, without triggering his defences.

"I did." Perenelle did not deny it.

"But I - my shields are fully active… and I didn't feel a thing." Ares stuttered, half in awe and half in fear that despite all the labour, someone could just get past his shields without his knowledge. It was a very humbling thought.

An eyebrow raise was the only reaction from Perenelle. "I am a natural Legilimens, and I have been honing my skill over my entire life. A natural Legilimens is capable of feats that no mere practitioner of the art could ever achieve in their life."

"But… I mean…" Ares stammered.

"The struggle to be the best is a constant uphill battle. With your current skill, you are capable of defeating scores of witches and wizards. But every once in a while, there will be an opponent who will ignore your ability like a dragon ignores a pixy." Perenelle replied calmly. "Understand this, Ares Black. You cannot be the best in everything. Strive to be the best you can be."

"Do you mean that?" Ares replied slowly.

Perenelle replied in the affirmative. "I do. You have a natural affinity for offensive magic, particularly the Dark Arts. You do not have the natural inclination for Legilimency. However, do not let it deter you. The Slytherin line has been extensively blessed with natural affinity in the mental arts."

Ares seemed crushed at her words. If the Slytherin line was known for the Mind Arts and he did not possess the affinity… Then my magic must be so weak that-

"ENOUGH!" Perenelle thundered. "The gifts you have been blessed with are out of your control. The only control you possess is in your ability and effort to hone the gifts given to you. Besides, when you have finished your apprenticeship under me, maybe you could go ahead and find a Slytherin heirloom that had been stolen centuries ago. A theft, that took…" Perenelle paused for a moment. "-everything from your family."

"What do you mean?" Ares asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Salazar Slytherin, the thirty-third Lord of the Slytherin family, and, possibly, the most powerful Legilimens the world has ever seen, dabbled in arcane blood magic to create an artefact, a locket embedded with the Slytherin family insignia. The bearer of the locket could, apparently, wield Salazar's own unparalleled power of Legilimency. However, the locket can only be used by someone who shares his blood."

Ares's eyes widened at the words before gleaming in excitement. "You mean… that if I could possibly get my hands on-"

"Your tendency to jump to conclusions will someday bring you ruin, Ares Black." Perenelle replied swiftly. "Irrespective of the power the locket holds, and the family it belongs to, you should never forget that all artefacts are governed by rules and a price. There is nothing in this world that does not have a price, not even magic. Never forget this."

"Oh." Ares replied sullenly, his voice a little timid after being chastised by his tutor. Her words held far too much warning for him to ignore it. He did not have the courage to ask the unanswered question.

Seeing that he had understood, Perenelle said "Now put the tome aside and listen. This is esoteric magical theory, and thus, I demand your undivided attention."

Ares put the tome on the coffee table beside him and occupied a position on the floor. Shoving all thoughts and distracting question to the back of his mind, he focused on his tutor.

Perenelle stood in front of Ares to start her lecture. "Magic," she began, "unlike what the ICW would like people to believe, is primarily of two kinds, basal arts and the esoteric arts. Majority of the witches and wizards go through their entire lives, experiencing only the basal arts. It has several names; Transfiguration, charms, potions, Herbology, combat-magic - whatever people call them, they are classified under the basal arts, mainly because said arts possess well-documented arithmantic equations and rely on the use of magical foci. They are called forth through incantations, require certain motions of foci and have a fixed effect; the effect may vary in intensity or property, but it remains the same, in principle. Even the vast majority of what people consider Dark Arts fall under this category."

"What about the Unforgivables?" Ares questioned.

Perenelle waved her hand. "No difference. The Unforgivables, much like the Patronus charm, is powered more by intent than the incantation. However, they too fall under the same category."

Ares thought over the words, digesting their meaning before nodding his head.

Knowing her student had comprehended the meaning she meant to convey, Perenelle said "The other school of magic, the esoteric arts, are far more flexible and do not possess the limitations of the basal arts. Here, magic is a constant ever-changing, mutating force free from the restrictions of incantation and foci. Every question has an infinite number of answers and all of them are the correct ones."

Ares was puzzled. How can there be infinite correct answers to a single question? He cleared his throat. "Then how do we know which answer to choose?"

"We choose the most apt." Perenelle smirked. "Understand this, Ares Black, Esoteric arts are the closest we have ever come to understanding magic in its purest form. There is nothing, nothing that you cannot create, gain or reach using it. All you need is a proper understanding of principles underlying them." Pausing for a moment, she asked "Tell me, Ares. You would have studied something on the subject. Do you know the way it works?"

"The way it works?" Ares repeated.

Perenelle nodded. "Do you know the law of equivalence?"

Ares nodded. Aunt Cassie had drilled that principle into his head. "Every action that produces something cost something of equal value."

Perenelle frowned at the answer. "Incorrect, or rather… inadequate. Esoteric magic cannot be measured in fixed quantities like matter or energy. The costs accrued in such magic cannot be unquantified: every thought, desire, hope, dream, intent, even the very subconscious must be taken into account when dealing with the arts. The sacrifice must not only be magically equal; it must negate the effects of the cost required."

"I don't understand."

Perenelle smiled. "Do you know what the Philosopher's' stone does?"

"Yes." Ares smiled. "It renders a person to the prime of health, and is supposed to grant life as long as one continues to drink the elixir of life."

Perenelle allowed a shadow of a smirk to float on her lips for a moment. "Now apply the principle of equivalence."

Ares thought hard on her words. Every magic has a cost attached to it. Now, the stone is supposed to lengthen the lifespan of the person drinking the elixir. Now, I know we can't make an actual human being. So, the stone can't just make life. But it can't bring a person back from the dead. Wait, what about the cost? If the stone is giving life, then the equivalent cost would be…

Looking up at his teacher, he gulped upon realising the answer.

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "Moving on… We will be discussing the principle of equivalence in detail, because it is the bedrock for all branches of esoteric magic."

Ares nodded dumbly, not wanting to think on the cost the Flamels paid for their long life.

"Esoteric magic is raw, free, ever-changing and eternal. You are dealing with that which has no fixed form or substance and there is nothing, absolutely nothing in the world that can help you apply the standard laws to it." Perenelle explained. "There is a section among the Dark Arts, which could be classified as esoteric, but it has very few applications."

Ares nodded at the words, mind still buzzing at the revelation he had arrived at.

"While you will often find scholars trying to branch esoteric magic out into different forms, ultimately, it all comes down to three different forms - rituals, necromancy and the illusory arts. The Slytherin magics is ritual-based, while the Black ancestry goes deep into the field of the illusory arts."

"And Necromancy?" asked Ares. He saw an expression pass across Perenelle's face, but he could decipher it.

Composing herself, Perenelle replied "Only one family, I think… plumbed the deepest depths of necromancy." She paused for a moment. "Peverell."

"Is it just a coincidence that all three of my ancestors dealt in esoteric magics?" Ares asked, numbed by the revelation.

"Not really," Perenelle replied offhandedly. "All Family Magic is esoteric, although it would not be wrong to say that coincidentally, your ancestry goes deeper down the path of forbidden magics than most do. Then again, you do not see an heir to three Great families every day."

Ares gulped, but said nothing.

Noticing the uncomfortable expression on his face, Perenelle decided to soothe him a little. "If it helps you feel any better, the Family Magic of those with Viking ancestry is mostly battle- and blood-magic. The Gaunts-" she flashed a sneer. "-had blood-magic and necromancy, while the Le-Fay line was blessed with illusory and psychic powers."

Ares felt much better at the answer. Knowing his Magic wasn't that special did sooth him in an odd way.

Reading his improvement in mood, Perenelle said "As I previously mentioned, I will not be teaching you how to fight, nor will I teach you spells. Together, we will swim through the ocean of ritualistic magic, understanding what you need to sacrifice to become what you intend to be."

The greatest sorcerer of all time. Ares repeated to himself.

"Madame Flamel?"

"Yes, Ares?"

Why are you so cynical? Ares thought inwardly.

Perenelle smirked at the boy's antics.

The two of them were seated in the parlour of her manor. The room was painted a deep white with simple, but subtle decorative sconces attached to the walls. A black wood fireplace occupied the wall opposite the twin windows facing the gardens. Elegant but tasteful cream furniture occupied the middle of the parlour and faced the fireplace. Perenelle was seated on the couch, reading a novel and Ares occupied the loveseat, a heavy tome in his hands.

Perenelle looked at the open page in his book and shifted her gaze to his eyes. A year had passed since Ares had started his apprenticeship. The boy was well on his way to mastering his abilities and his knowledge over certain aspects of esoteric magic was nothing less than phenomenal. The boy was now a fourth-level Occlumens with a rudimentary mind-palace, slowly working his way towards attaining perfect memory-recall, though. His Legilimency was hardly of second-level, not-bad for someone of his age, and without any natural affinity for the subject. The boy had deliberately thought of his question instead of verbalising it, knowing extremely well that she could read his thoughts. This situation had become a private joke between them.

Choosing to answer his question, she said "When you have lived as long as I have, you have no option but to be cynical. Everyone has an agenda."

I wonder what your agenda is… Ares couldn't help but think.

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "My agenda is…. complicated, and you will know it when the time arrives."

Still… Ares drawled. You can tell me something about yourself. I mean, I am under secrecy oath.

Perenelle frowned for a moment. She mulled over her words before answering his query. "Before I met Nicholas, I had another life, another name, another identity." She looked nostalgic as she continued. "Our family was always accomplished in esoteric arts; our only rivals being another family in the land."

Okay. Ares answered, feeling odd about the way his tutor was being so evasive with the names. So, did you know anyone from the Slytherin family back then?

Perenelle smiled nostalgically. "Yes. I did." She looked away for a moment. "My brother gave my hand in marriage to a son of the other family, hoping to end the rivalry. However, there were some… problems, and my husband…" She bit out the word. Ares wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. "Well, he did something unforgivable." Her expression one of deepest loathing. "His actions… destroyed my family, ending my father's line forever. I left, swearing vengeance on my husband's family, although I am yet to fulfil my vows that I took over the ashes of my home." She appeared to looking through time, her eyes glimmering slightly.

Ares watched her with curiosity, trying to figure out what might have happened, and who the families might have been. Then again, watching her own family die would affect anyone, he supposed. While he loved Padfoot as his father, a traitorous part of his mind couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have grown up with James and Lily Potter. Still, he did wonder what could have happened to bring Perenelle Flamel to tears.

Awakening from the nightmare, Perenelle shifted her gaze to stare into the eyes of her student. "My brother believed in my husband. They were… friends, and my husband backstabbed him, betrayed him and my family had to pay the price. It was then I realised what people were; they would always, always care about themselves, no matter the cost paid by others. This… cynicism, as you say, has helped me survive the centuries."

"Oh." Ares murmured. She did look rather sad talking about her family. It was the same look Pad shared when he talked about his days as a Marauder, days spent at Potter cottage or the time he spent talking about grandfather Arcturus. While he could not understand what his father went though, he did try to help. staring up at his teacher, he thought he could extend the same courtesy. After all, despite the harsh training and even harsher words, she had never put him in true danger. Sure, she was guarded about her motives, but then, everyone had their secrets. Maybe, someday, she would trust him enough to share them.

Smiling at the person he did not yet know he considered a friend, Ares said "Well, if you ever need any help or anything… let me know."

Ignoring his thoughts and the innocence of his words, Perenelle smirked. "You can help me in more ways than you think you know."

"I don't understand this, Madame Flamel." Ares said.

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

Ares was always impressed at the way she could raise a single eyebrow. It was rather difficult and most people could never do it. Returning to his question, he asked "What's so… unforgivable about Unforgivables? I mean, there are hundreds of ways of killing people without using the Unforgivables, if that's the point."

Perenelle smirked. A year and a half had passed since the boy first entered the manor and Ares had now grown under her tutelage. He had come far; he was no longer the clumsy little kid who had bumped into her at the fair. It had taken hard work and patience - lots and lots of patience on her end - but slowly and steadily, the boy had mastered the theory and concepts behind the intricate arts of blood magic and rituals. Now, the time was nearing for Perenelle to set the stage for his ascension.

"Ares," she asked, "you have studied and mastered ancient theory and magics and are currently working your way through forbidden lore. Why this… inquisition about something so puny as the Unforgivables?"

Ares frowned at her question, but replied quickly. "I will answer, but could you… tell me about them? Please?"

Perenelle stared hard at him. Strangely, she did not use her Legilimency to delve into his mind, something Ares was grateful for. Over the past few months, he had at least developed the sense to know if she was in his mind, or not. That had taken quite a bit of work.

Wondering if he was up to another experiment – Magic help her if it was – Perenelle said "The reason why they are called Unforgivables is not because they are deadly. You are right, one can maim or kill with any spell; imagination and adaptability being the only limits. The reason they are called the Unforgivables is because you cannot cast one without intending to."

"What do you mean?" Ares asked, mulling over her words.

Sometimes, Perenelle wished she could put a permanent sticking charm to his lips. He interrupted far too much when it came to explanations on magic. "It means that the curses will work when, and only when the caster throws the spell fuelled by their intent. If the caster tried to throw an unforgivable without the intent necessary to fuel it, it will fail. If the target of the curse dodges the spell and the curse strikes someone else… Hypothetically, they should be unharmed."

Ares's eyes bulged out at the revelation. "So I cannot kill someone with the killing curse by mistake?"

Perenelle narrowed her eyes at his question. There was more behind the words, but she chose to wait, rather than pluck the answer from his mind. He had gotten a lot better at defending against her intrusions. "You can't, at least that is the theory so far."

Ares drew a breath of elation. Perenelle noticed the odd reaction but refrained from commenting on it.

Shifting his gaze back to his tutor, he asked "What about the other two?"

Perenelle pursed her lips as she gathered her words. "The Cruciatus, as unlikely as it might seem, works on the principle of illusory magics. It induces a potential flaring in the victim's nerves, sending them into the throes of pain. However, the pain is just an illusion, and the only organ of the body that truly suffers from it is the mind. That is why the worst possible effect of the Cruciatus is permanent insanity and brain damage, not atrophy of the nerves."

"Ah." Ares realised. Padfoot had mentioned the Longbottoms, allies in Britain; specifically, about how Frank and Alice Longbottom, had been tortured to mental insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black using the Cruciatus.

"TheImperius is slightly different, and employs a form of focussed Legilimency to bend the victim to the caster's will. The advantage of the Imperius is that the caster does not need to be a master of Legilimency to perform it, although he does need a strong will to overcome their victim's mental resistance and dominate the mind."

"Whoa." Ares reacted. He had never really thought of the Imperius curse that way.

Perenelle smirked. "The disadvantage is that unlike Legilimency, the Imperius is a spell and hence, has its own signature, and can be detected and traced to its source."

Ares frowned. The magical signature kind of spoiled it all.

Perenelle walked up to him. "Now tell me, Ares Black. What is going on in that anarchic mind of yours?"

"Nothing." Ares murmured. He knew she was serious the second she used his full name. Well… at least two-thirds of his name.

Perenelle raised an eyebrow.

Ares looked away. He was going to either tell it himself, or she would up his training to a whole new level. Taking a deep breath, and turning back, he said "Do you know what the first words I remember are?"

Perenelle looked at him with curiosity.

"Avada Kedavra." Ares muttered to himself, his magic answering his wish as the intent to kill pervaded all around him. It coiled around the space surrounding him, freezing his tutor for a second.

Breaking out of her frozen state, Perenelle stepped back instantly, sensing the energy and intent surrounding him. "Ares…."

"Don't worry, Madame Flamel." Ares replied sadly. "I have no intention of hurting you."

"You are radiating the intent of murder, Ares." Perenelle all but yelled. "So, forgive me if I do not believe your words at this moment." Her tense expression vanished as she stood calmly in front of him. Her current demeanour suggested she was merely standing in her garden, not near a wizard who was radiating the fierce intent to murder everything in the vicinity. "Is this your way of avoiding the favour you owe?"

Ares looked alarmed. "Madame Flamel, please believe me. I have no wish to cause any harm to you… This is just…" He looked resigned, "It's just the way I am."

"What do you mean?" Perenelle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Ares, you have been my student for nearly eighteen months. I have never seen this before. You have never displayed such an intent in my presence."

"This… intent… It's not mine, Madame Flamel." Ares answered softly.

"What do you mean it isn't yours?" Perenelle snapped at his unbelievable answer. "It is your intent."

"No, it's not." Ares snapped. His teacher looked taken aback at his reaction. It was not surprising, considering he had never lost his temper in her presence. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he looked at his teacher and said "It is something that I have hid from everyone, even my Dark Arts tutor… and father. This… intent, or whatever it is, it clings to me, but it is not mine. All I need is to reminisce about the words, and this… this magic floods over."

Perenelle stared at the boy in front of her. His explanation made no sense. She had certainly never heard of such a phenomenon before. Gazing at him intently, she asked "But… how can someone else's intent cling to you?"

Ares stared at her blankly, trying to fathom how the great Perenelle Flamel could be so… dense. "Remember who I am. What I am famous for."

"Avada Kedavra." She replied softly, the words coated with a touch of reverence. "The Dark Lord Voldemort cast the killing curse at you."

Ares's face betrayed nothing.

"This… this intent," Perenelle paused. Her thoughts were a bit scattered. Gathering herself, she asked softly "Ares, why haven't you mentioned it to me earlier?"

"I don't know." Ares confessed. "I thought I might be able to control it when I learnt advanced magic, but mostly because I feared Pad's reaction to it. He has always been guarded about my… affinity for destructive magics and now if he got to know that I could possibly kill…"

"With a touch," Perenelle finished for him. "Can you?"

"I don't know." Ares confessed. "And I don't wish to find out." His voice broke down, as the intent vaporized away. "Madame Flamel, can you help me? Please?"

Perenelle stared at him for a moment. This was supposed to be impossible. The killing curse did not manifest as a touch based spell. Then again, who was she to say that certain things were impossible. Giving her student a stern scan, she spoke, her tone grave. "I will need you to willingly give me blood. It is time we figured out what happened that night."

A week later…

"What did you figure out, Madame Flamel?" asked Ares.

Perenelle looked at him, studiously doing her best to avoid the green-eyed stare that he sent at her.

They currently sat in their usual seats in the library. The past week had been nerve-wracking for Ares. After he had willingly given her a vial of his blood, his tutor did not even mention their conversation again. She completely avoided or deflected his questions until he was ready to tear his hair out. She was, perhaps, his only hope of understanding what was happening to him. A week later, and here they sat, him looking at nothing but her, her avoiding his emerald-eyed gaze.

"Ares…" Perenelle gathered her words, unsure what to say. Ares had never seen his teacher act this nervous. Heck, he had never seen her be nervous. "Do you remember what I mentioned to you about phylacteries?"

Ares nodded warily. His mind began spinning worst-case scenarios, which he painstakingly ignored. "They are soul jars; designed to store the soul of a person. As long as a phylactery is safe, the practitioner is safe from death, and can always resurrect himself back."

Nodding at his answer, and still avoiding his gaze, Perenelle asked "And do you remember the obvious disadvantage of using phylacteries?"

"Phylacteries are extremely vulnerable to outside elements. A magical who got his hands on the phylactery could dominate the soul, turning the practitioner into their slave, and the soul could not resist the control either." Ares replied automatically, a sense of doom creeping upon him. "What has that got to do with me?"

Perenelle sighed in resignation, as she waved her hand, summoning a tome from the library. "Do you recognize this tome?"

Ares could have rolled his eyes had her expression not been that serious. "Secrets of the Darkest Art?" He looked up at her, noticing the blank expression on her face. "You told me to stay away from this particular tome."

"With due reason." Perenelle sniffed. Passing the book to her apprentice, she said "Open Page 366."

Without further comment, Ares opened the respective page as he read the headline. "An anathema of magic: The horcrux".

Perenelle shut her eyes for a moment. "It is an improvement-" She sneered at the word, "-on the concept of the phylactery, developed by Herpo the Foul back in the early twelfth century. The obvious difference is that it is free from the disadvantages of a phylactery, although it does have quite a few maladies to deal with."

Ares nodded. "What's that got to do with me?"

"I'm coming to that." Perenelle muttered swiftly. "I performed an inspection of your magical core, and came to several conclusions. The present topic relates to one of those conclusions."

"You mean-" Ares began, immediately fearing the worst.

"Let me finish," Perenelle almost yelled, before she controlled her voice. Taking a deep breath, she said "When… Lord Voldemort hit you with the killing curse, something… inexplicable happened. Your blood shows traces of ritual magic in it, which has one single conclusion." She paused, not yet telling him his blood was literally drowning in protection magic. "Your parents knew that they would be attacked."

"But… they were under the Fidelius, and they couldn't have known that Pettigrew-"

"Just listen." Perenelle snapped at the boy seated in front of her.

That shut Ares up.

Perenelle took a deep breath. "Your parents, or more likely, your mother – considering your father wasn't known for his intelligence and your mother had a track record for being one of the smartest witches around – She performed a ritual, one employing sacrificial magic, to be precise, and knowingly set herself up as a willing sacrifice to save you. Based on the account of Halloween night you gave me, and the aftermath, I believe your mother enacted a ritual to ensure that the one who killed her would never be able to touch you, or cause you any direct harm."

Ares widened his eyebrows, as the memory rose in his mind, his ears ringing with the one memory he had about his parents.

"Not Harry… Please, not Harry… take me instead…

Kill me… Let my son live… Kill me instead…."

Perenelle continued. "From what you have shared with me, you remember Him casting the killing curse at your mother first. That should have fuelled the ritual into action. The protection that her sacrifice provided bonded with your very blood. Had Voldemort even touched you, it would be incredible fatal to him."

Ares just listened to her with undivided attention.

"We know what happened next. He moved ahead and cast the Avada Kedavra, of all spells, at you. A spell that has its roots in soul magic, a spell designed to sever the soul's link to the body. The interference of the sacrificial magic led to a development that no sorcerer in this world could ever divine."

"Which is?" Ares asked fretfully.

"Coincidence." For the first time since the conversation started, Perenelle smiled softly. Actually, Ares thought that he had never seen her smile like that. Ever. "There is no explanation for coincidence. Some people call it a prophesised event, some people call it luck. However, the fact remains that there was no chance that even the Dark Lord Voldemort could account for what the interference might result in."

She paused for a moment. "When the curse touched your skin, it flared the protection barrier, which attacked the curse with a vengeance, calling to your own Family Magics for aid. I will bet you anything that your Family Magics activated at that moment; which also explains why you, despite being so young, are so… comfortable with the totems."

Ares just listened to her blankly. The shocks being delivered to him had temporarily robbed him of his ability to respond.

"Repelled by the combined force of the Family Magics and the protection of your mother's sacrifice, the killing curse reshaped itself with your magic's intent, and attacked Voldemort." Perenelle smirked for a moment, before continuing, "However, for certain reasons that I can only theorize, he didn't die. Instead, it fractured his soul, killing him in a fashion."

Finally, Ares spoke up. "The general idea is that His body had been destroyed. I'm pretty sure that the killing curse doesn't work like a high-powered Bombarda." He challenged.

Perenelle smirked, proud that the boy was still analysing her explanation and not accepting it at face value, despite the emotional turmoil he was going through. "Yes, but we are forgetting the protection and the Family Magics. It is a possibility that the protection might have regarded Voldemort as a danger to your life, and viciously attacked him, alongside the Family magics, destroying his body in the process."

Ares nodded. That made sense. A lot of it.

Perenelle's face quickly turned grim. "The protection tore Voldemort's soul apart. While he might still exist as a wraith, a piece of his broken soul latched onto the only vessel it could that night." She paused. "You."

Ares's eyes bulged out. "I am…. I am a horcrux?"

"I believe so." Perenelle nodded.

"I have a…" Ares glanced down at the open tome in front of him, before looking up in desperation. "I am carrying a part of Voldemort's soul?" The revelation overwhelmed his senses, before an even crueller truth hit him. "That means… that means…. I will have to die, to kill him?" The conclusion shocked him to the core, as his knees gave away, making him fall onto the ground, his eyes glassy and hazed in shock.

"Control yourself, Ares." Perenelle snapped. She had trained him to be better. "Don't you dare behave like an imbecile in front of me. You have spent the last three years devoting yourself to the study arcane magics. Stop behaving like an ignorant schoolboy."

"But-" Ares looked up at her. "B-"

"What have I told you about the rituals?" Perenelle asked sharply, far sharper than she had ever spoken to him.

"That it can grant me anything and everything." Ares murmured, before the answer hit him. "You mean," He stood up, not wanting to believe his own mind, "we can correct this… problem using rituals?"

Perenelle nodded. "We can."

Ares let himself breathe again.

"While I am almost sure that a well-placed killing curse might just free you of the foreign soul-shard, it might not just be the optimum manner of dealing with it." Perenelle replied in her usual Professor-like tone.

"Madame Flamel," Ares countered, "this is my life we are talking about. I would just be… happy if we can get that… thing out of me. Bollocks to optimum results."

"And therein speaks the Gryffindor." Perenelle muttered under her breath. She stared at her student for a full minute before speaking. "The optimum path would be to not only get rid of the soul-shard, but also gain an advantage from it."

"How?" Ares challenged.

And then Perenelle gave him the answer.

Ares Black frowned for a moment, as he digested the idea in his mind. It seemed disgusting at first, but, as she had trained him to do, he observed it from a coldly analytical perspective. Finally, his lips twisted upward.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys, me and my fellow author, Arcturus, are still hungover from our non-existent New year celebrations with Ice-cream and water. So, this AN will be written by our cast. Enjo-

*Author stunned, bound and sleep hexed*

Lucius: Muggles should learn to not waste too much breath or time. They never learn.

Ron: Oh! Like you do, Lucy. Your Master tortures you and you go back begging for another round of crucio like it's a cheering charm. Ever thought about a checkup at 's?

Lucius: Your father shall pay for this boy!

Ron: Oh! Give me a break. Is that the Family Magic of the Malfoys? Or did you have one too many fathers?

Lucius: *Draws his wand* Avada K- *Stunned*

Ron: *Notices caster* Oh! Thanks, He-

Hermione: Avada Kedavra *Ron dies* That's for marrying me at the end of Book 7, asshole!

Lavender: Oh, Won-Won! My precious Won-Won!

Ron's ghost: Somebody save me from her

*Cast ignores the rest of the romantic shenanigans*

Padma: So, why did you not kill Lucius, Hermione?

Hermione: Oh! It was our wedding night and he chose to write an AN instead. I'll be sure to crucio him later. He loves when I'm being a dominatrix.

Minerva: Miss Gran-err, Miss Malfoy, such words are not uttered in polite company.

Susan: He deserves it. What kind of moron leaves his wife alone on their wedding night?

Hermione: Who you calling a moron, bitch? Crucio!

Neville: Nobody attacks my girlfriend. Expelliarmus!

*Due to an ensuing cat-fight, with the involvement of a toad, cat and an old goat, this AN is now terminated.

Happy New Year*