Chapter 7: Nicolas Flamel

Harry felt as if he'd been in a particularly hard class with McGonagall after Flamel explained everything to him.

The pages of notes Flamel had were extensive, documenting every detail of the last time travel made into the past.

"I acquired most of these notes in 1421," he said, spreading them across a heavy wooden table that came up higher than most tables would. "These were notes given to me by a colleague of Albertus who copied his original notes. Before he died, I met with him. He said he had very important information to give to me about time. He knew that I would be alive for a lot longer than him. He said to take good care of them."

Harry thought he did a good job at taking care of the parchment. The most damage was discoloration, only yellowed, and not a tear on any piece. He wondered if it was possible to do a preservation charm on parchment. "He always asked if I could search for Leonardo to get confirmation on the details. I regret that I wasn't able to talk to him. He had died the year before I finally traced him."

"Was it hard to find people back then?" Dumbledore asked from another bench where he was working on his small invention.

"Very," Flamel said harshly. "There weren't as many records as there are now. Only the Church in the Muggle world and schools like Hogwarts had such documents. Leonardo never went to school. The most schooling he had was given to him by his parents. He meddled too much in time-travel, though, his specialty. He was a genius, but because of lack of necessary technology, he made an error in the process of creating the Time-Turner. It sent him back a hundred years instead of a few minutes. He was gifted in potion-making and made a potion called the Elixir of Epoch to bring him back. Leonardo was able to tell Albertus exactly how he made the potion."

Harry nodded as he explained, though he couldn't help but think about what Flamel said about 'Confirming.' I hope he didn't mean that he wasn't sure if this really happened or not.

"You know this will work?" Merrythought asked before he got the chance to.

"It will," Flamel said. "I've read this multiple times over the years. I've made my own notes. Of course it will work, Miss Galatea."

"If Harry dies because of this, Nicolas," she warned, glancing at Harry.

Harry looked away. The words on the parchment were in some type of English, but nothing he was able to read incredibly well. He just had to have his trust in Flamel. "Like I said before, I've been prepared to die. If it works, it works; if it doesn't, at least I tried."

Flamel studied him for a second too long. Harry avoided his eyes, choosing to look at his small nose instead. He didn't know if he knew how to read minds, but he needed to be as cautious as possible.

"Mr. Potter," he said, "I assure you I won't make a mistake."

Harry didn't trust many people, but because he taught Dumbledore so closely and Dumbledore knew him until the day he died, he knew there was no possible way he couldn't trust the very old man.

Flamel had made an impossible circumstance to occur, anyway. He caused lead to turn into gold! He had achieved immortal life, and even though Harry didn't believe in the need to live forever, he knew Flamel could defy time. He could get Harry back to his time. "I trust you," Harry said. He never felt any distrust.

Flamel nodded stiffly, never smiling nor showing any other emotion than seriousness. He went through all the steps in making the potion, showing almost every line on the parchment over the next hour. He hadn't started on it yet as he was still collecting ingredients. "But, once I'm done," he said, "I will call you here and give it to you. It should be August and I am sorry that it will take so long. All you need to do is drink it and think of an exact spot and time you want to appear. It's very much like apparition, but with the added time component. Leonardo described it as such."

"However, I'll still need one last thing, Mr. Potter, before I hand you the potion," he said. "The last component to it."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Your hair."

That caused Harry to think of Polyjuice Potion. He could still remember the horrible taste. "Of course," he said.

"Thank you. You need not give it to me now. That is the last ingredient and will allow you to travel to your time. However, now, there are more important matters to discuss."

He collected the parchment up into a neat pile on the table. "The Ministry," he said. "They're very strict on these type of matters. Black has been suspicious of you. He hasn't reported anything to the Ministry yet. He isn't one to involve the Ministry unless he believes someone is involving himself deeply into the Dark Arts. He may have a family that supports pure-bloods and hates Muggle-borns, but he's hypocritical. He hates people who get involved in the Dark Arts and he's damn suspicious of people, particularly young people. It's a wonder how he ever became Headmaster."

Harry listened carefully. He knew Phineas, the portrait, and he'd met the Headmaster, but he felt he needed to listen unless he wanted to stay in that time for the next hundred years. He wanted to get back home.

"We need to be watchful of the Ministry," he said. "If they find out about you, you'll be killed. They don't want to risk anything that involves time-travel. That's why I've made you birth documents. Every fifty years or so, I have to do these under the supervision of the Ministry, but for your sake, I did these and had Galatea seek them into the Ministry. They now have a record of your existence in case anyone else gets suspicious of Harry Potter. Once you're gone, I'll make a death certificate for you because many people will still have memory of you. It would be impossible to wipe everyone's memory of you."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore with panic. Dumbledore never mentioned that Harry had come into the past. Did he know anything about Harry?

Flamel followed his gaze and nodded. Thankfully, Dumbledore's back was turned. "I'll talk to you about that later," he said carefully as if reading him. "For right now, you have to very careful not to give any information away about the future. You have to keep going about your day like you have been, as merely Miss Galatea's assistant."

Harry felt a gnawing sensation spread threw his chest. It was much like the feeling he got around Ginny, but it physically hurt him. He thought about how bored he was at Hogwarts. There were days that he felt incredibly alone, so much so that he felt as if he was trapped at the Dursley's again. The hurt was twice than usual because he didn't understand how he could feel like he did at Hogwarts of all places. He was always happy to go to Hogwarts, but now it had so many memories of death and now of lonliness. He wanted his job as an Auror back. He needed to go back to his normal life. Not fighting made him feel so worthless.

"You don't like that, do you, boy?" he asked, for once looking sympathetic.

"Er-"

"Would you like to travel a bit?" he asked. "There are still a few ingredients I need, and some will only be mature at certain times over the course of the next few months. Some can only be found in certain parts of Europe. Leonardo did extensive traveling while he was in the past, if I haven't mentioned that already."

Honestly, Harry didn't really much like that idea. He thought about the 'travels' he did in the past year. He got that sick feeling again, but nodded. He was used to people asking a lot of him.

"Excellent," he said, although in his tone it didn't sound excellent and it sounded strange to hear such an old man say a word like that. "I'll send a list of ingredients tomorrow by Fawkes with the dates the ingredients will be mature."

He couldn't help but feel nervous about the future. He was used to the threat of the Ministry, and he was used to being alone, but without Hermione and Ron, he wondered if he really should go traveling for the ingredients. He knew the castle was safe and secure, but since he felt as he did, he wondered if it was a good idea. At least, he thought, searching for ingredients wouldn't be as bad as searching for Horcruxes.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, auburn-haired and young, who would later give Harry a mission he almost couldn't do. Even with that thought, he felt no resentment toward him. He still felt like Dumbledore's man through and through. If Dumbledore and Merrythought trusted Flamel, then he should. If he could do Dumbledore's mission, one which people would have called a suicide mission, then he could do Flamel's.

Slowly, Harry nodded. He had to help.

Albus listened carefully to what Flamel was saying to Harry as he worked on his project for Flamel. Flamel hadn't told Albus half those things, but he guessed it was with good reason. It wasn't him going back into the future.

What confused him the most, however, was what Flamel had said when he got a good look at Harry. "The magic has died, hasn't it?," he had said as he touched Harry's scar. "You should have died many times. If the Elixir doesn't work on you, I will be astonished." That only proved the scar was caused by magic, possibly Dark magic because of what he said about death. But, Albus had to remind himself not to look too much into it. He couldn't assume anything even though he desperately wanted to.

Albus lost track of time while Harry and Flamel talked. Merrythought interjected some comments while they were going over the step list, but quieted down after that. They talked more and then quieted for a few seconds too long.

"Albus," Flamel said. He jumped and turned in the rickety chair most likely held up by magic. "Perenelle wishes to see you."

Although he hadn't heard her, he knew the Flamels communicated in a way Albus had never figured out. He stood, thinking he needed to ask them about that at some point.

The Flamel's lived in the disappearing farmland of England, somewhere near Oxford, and when he exited Flamel's work shed, the landscape was extremely beautiful with a small pond and a high grown field next to the house. A forest of trees out in the distance lined the field and caused him to remember his old home village called Mould-on-the-Wold. There was a Muggle farmer that lived on the outskirts of the village that Albus remembered lived on a plot of land almost exactly the same as the Flamel's.

Albus entered the small house they lived in after walking on a short stone path that a garden lined. He could hear voices to the right, in the sitting room where Mrs. Flamel and Bathilda Bagshot sat.

"Ah, Albus," Mrs. Flamel said, her white hair over her shoulder in a long braid. "Sit down."

He did in a stuffed chair next to Bathilda, who smiled and nodded at him as he crossed his legs.

"Bathilda was just telling me that you live on the same street?" Mrs. Flamel asked.

"Yes, ma'am, we do," he said smiling. "How are you today, Mrs. Bagshot?"

Bathilda, who wasn't very much older than Merrythought and had a nice round face and light blonde hair, said, "Very well, Albus. I saw your mother the other day. She was talking about your recent publication in Transfiguration Today. I read it myself and it was quite good."

"Thank you," he said with a nod. "I worked very hard on it."

"It shows. I missed you this past summer," she said. "You seem to have grown since I last saw you in December."

Albus hadn't really noticed that he grew, though his robes did seem to hover over his shoes a little too much. He was still as skinny as ever, though.

"Boys do seem to shoot up, don't they?" Mrs. Flamel said. Albus tried not to blush.

Bathilda nodded curtly. "Oh, yes. My nephew, Gellert, is in sixth year this year at Durmstrang. He just shot up this past spring. I visited his mother, my sister, at Easter and again before he went back to school. He grew at least a meter."

"He's quite brilliant, didn't you say?" Mrs. Flamel said.

She nodded again. "Quite. He received 11 O.W.L.s in fourth year. They take them earlier than Hogwarts students," she informed Albus. "How many did you receive, Albus?"

"Ten," he said, suddenly feeling inadequate. Someone made more than him? He'd only heard of the second highest being eight in his year, and in the year before, the highest had been seven. "But that was all that I took," he said as if making up an excuse. "I chose to leave out Divination and Astronomy."

"Ah, Gellert took Astronomy," Bathilda said. "He's not much of a seer, either. Actually, from what I know of you, I believe you two would get along quite well." She nodded, but Albus just stared and smiled good-naturally. He wasn't sure what to say, really, so he kept quiet.

Albus didn't really see much use in being with them, as they were just chatting. "I was interviewing Perenelle earlier," Bathilda said at one point, "for my history book. You gave a very insightful interview." He just listened and said something when he could to make it seem as if he wasn't bored.

"Nicolas is calling you," Mrs. Flamel said in what felt like an hour later, though was probably only a few minutes. "Miss Galatea and Mr. Potter are getting set to leave."

Dumbledore nodded and stood. "Thank you for the tea," he said, pointing to the tea cup Mrs. Flamel gave him halfway through. "And it was good seeing both of you."

They nodded. "Farewell, Albus. Oh, and by the way, I'm coming to Hogwarts this week."

Albus nodded, remembering the note his mother sent. "My mother told me. I'll see you, then, Mrs. Bagshot."

"Good, good. Care to give me a tour?"

"Of course, ma'am." Then, he left with a smile to them.

Harry and Merrythought were standing by the fireplace when he came back.

"Albus, I need to speak with you. Go, both of you," Flamel said to the other two. They did, though Albus caught Harry's eye before he left. This time, Albus didn't get any type of memory from him and that sort of scared him. He got the feeling Harry was intentionally closing his mind. But, he didn't get much time to think about it because in a flash of green light, Harry was gone.

"Did you get any further with your project?" Flamel asked. Albus was surprised that he wasn't next to him anymore and he saw him, instead at the table he was sitting at before, holding his invention. Flamel wasn't one to waste any time and clicked it.

The candle on the desk flickered. Dumbledore's heart skipped a beat as a small spark entered the instrument. He clicked it again and the spark jumped out and landed on the desk. A piece of parchment lying there burst into flames. As Flamel grabbed a piece of metal and threw it over the fire, Albus cried out, "It worked!"

Flamel chuckled humorlessly. "You would be correct. Have it working in the next month fully and you'll be done with your apprenticeship."

Albus nodded enthusiastically. Flamel handed it back to him and was by the stemming cauldron in about the same amount of time it took for the parchment to set on fire. "Care for soup?"

"What kind?"

"Lamb."

Albus, who could normally eat anything, felt his stomach turn, thinking about the goats in the back yard of his house. He couldn't imagine eating lamb when it made him think of Aberforth's pets. "No, thank you, sir."

Flamel merely grunted and waved his hand, which was a signal that Albus was dismissed.

And, in a flash of green smoke, Dumbledore was gone.

Harry thought he saw a silver wisp enter Flamel's ear before he said, "Albus, Perenelle wishes to see you."

Harry thought that was strange, but he assumed the wisp he saw entering his hair was a message from his wife. When Dumbledore left, Flamel waited about a minute before he said, "You're concerned about Albus."

Harry gave a nod.

"About what?"

"Er," Harry looked at Merrythought, wondering if he should say anything in front of her.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said as if sensing his discomfort. "I wouldn't tell him anything you say."

"Well," he said, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand even though that only happened when he knew something wasn't right. "Dumbledore's important to the future, and I am, too," he said. "He can't know anything about me or it would ruin so many things. He's trying to figure out what I know and what I am. I know it. He's the most brilliant wizard of the 20th century. I can't say anything, but if he found out anything about me or even remembered me, it could change so much about the future."

"It has to do with-" Flamel reached out to trace the scar again. Harry stood still, hating the attention.

Harry nodded, grateful when he finally dropped his hand. "I'm sure Dumbledore finds it out all on his own after I get it. I don't think I have anything to do with that now."

Flamel nodded, but from the withered knit in between his white eyebrows, Harry knew he was thinking hard.

"I'll work on that," Flamel said. "I'm sure I can develop a potion that will only erase you from his memory if you think that he can't know anything."

"He can't."

"I'll work on that," he said. "Dumbledore won't remember anything about you. I promise."

Merrythought looked as if she would protest, but with a fierce look from Harry, she didn't say anything. Harry was sure this was the right thing to do, even more right than what he felt about leaving Hogwarts to travel.

He was sure Dumbledore didn't have to know anything.