Out of warped space and reality, Harry materializes, dropping from the sky at a height high enough to feel his stomach flip before he lands hard on cold muddy earth.

As he laid there, allowing his exhausted body rest, he used his sense of hearing and his magic like a sonar to map out his surroundings as accurately as possible. Little by little, grass and dirt patches form, then trees and rocks, shrubs, many birds, a squirrel and possibly a raccoon, or cat. It all shapes an image of a forest in Harry's mind, but it's not a dense forest. If he allows more sounds to add to the rough mental image, he can easily make out sounds of people walking and talking, cars running, doors closing and windows opening from buildings, strollers, dogs, music, and many more sounds that tell Harry; metropolitan. As the images clear, Harry came to a shocking conclusion.

"That mad bastard actually succeeded."

The war against Voldemort was horrific. The Wizarding World uses dimensional magic to occupy the same space as muggles, but not interfere with them. Voldemort, after taking over the Ministry, thought he was powerful enough to begin subjugating the muggles.

He was devastatingly incorrect.

The Witch Hunts began anew, because the first introduction to magic they received was from a monster wanting to rule them. The governments did not like that, nor did they remain idle. Damn near every country had their armies storm magical populations and gun them down. They had what they called 'heretics' betray their own kind and open entrances to allow armies to storm into magicals only spaces.

It was a massacre.

Voldemort's army was decimated, and he fled like the coward he was. Harry spent his time dodging Witch Hunters and pursuing the fool who started the end. When he finally caught up to Voldemort, the monster was trying to summon demons to act as his new minions. He trapped Harry, and used him as an exchange for minions.

Harry spent near a century in Hell constantly fighting, constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to stay sane despite the onslaught. When he finally got a way out back to the mortal plane, he came to a totally different world. The skies were perpetually gray, and the lands were suffering from the constant hunts.

Harry went back to hunting Voldemort, and found the fool trying to send himself back in time using a ritual. They fought again, this time Harry used soul magic he earned from a succubus to absorb Voldemort's soul and devour it. Their battle had the unfortunate effect of activating the ritual circle which resulted in Harry's current position.

Harry's reminiscing was interrupted when he heard a nearby voice, seemingly right above him speak. "Well, will you look at that. She was right."

Harry rolls backwards, his magic shrouding him in preparation. He tried to open his eyes, but immediately shut them due to sensory overload. He sensed two people near him. He was severely exhausted, but he won't die today.

"Whoa there!" The male voice starts, as Harry hears shuffling away. "We mean you no harm! I repeat, we mean no harm, by either myself or my wife. So long as you do not attack us, we will not attack you. You have my word."

"It's true." the female voices in a comforting tone. "We mean you no harm."

They repeat that phrase until his magic slowly dissipates and he drops to a knee. Harry's breathing is labored, but the words do turn over in his mind, simmer a moment, then suggest certain possibilities. Harry hasn't interacted with humans in such a long time, his occlumancy has the hardest time keeping his emotions from barreling out and reducing him to a weeping mess. But, like him, his mental shields are war hardened.

"Who... a-are... you?" Harry struggled to ask, his throat ragged from lack of use.

"My name is Nicolas." the man replies in a comforting tone. "And with me, as I've stated, is my wife, Perenelle."

"Hello." a kind voice emerges from the hazy mass of cloudy shapes in Harry's mind.

"Now, I would like to avoid... distressing you further, as you've clearly been through an ordeal. So I'd like to ask you how you want to proceed. Though I would recommend clothes. It's not quite cold but being in the buff can still bring a man a rather deep chill."

"Honestly, Nicolas." Perenelle muttered. Harry could practically hear the eye roll.

"Oath." He mustered out.

"Certainly." Perenelle says. The sliding noise of a wand exiting it's holster makes him tense even harder in preparation. "On my magic, I swear to do no harm, intentionally induce pain of any sort, or take advantage of the young man before me in any way he disapproves as I examine him for injuries." A faint thickness seems to warm the air a moment before disappearing.

Harry tilts his head in the direction of Nicolas who also unholstered his wand and states his intentions clearly before swearing on his magic. It calms Harry down dramatically, but not completely.

"As I've said." Perenelle begins. "I will only be using diagnostic spells. Afterward, we can discuss some more what you'd like to do."

Harry can briefly feel a faint and foreign warmth wash over and through him, like stepping out into warm sunlight. While she does her spell, Harry asks for more information. "Why... are you... here?"

"That is a story best left for another time." Perenelle chimes in, her tone very perturbed. "It won't do your condition any good to hear anything remotely alarming or even mildly stressful. Can you tell me your name? If you like, a nickname is fine."

"... Hedwig." Harry weakly answers.

"Very good name." Perenelle softly states.

"Old high German, if I recall correctly." Nicolas adds in an attempt to fill the space with conversation. "My old German is pretty rusty but I believe it's broken down to two elements: Hed, combat or battle, and Wig, fight or duel."

"You remember Eleonora?" Perenelle asks almost cheerfully, also assisting in expanding the soothing effect of conversation despite the seriousness of the situation.

"I'd hardly forget the queen of Sweden." Nicolas says before raising his voice in a clear apologetic voice at the speculative eye of his wife. "Not because she was attractive. You have to admit she was a dominating figure. I'd remember her regardless of how she looks."

"Mnhm." Perenelle hums. Despite the small break, she finishes her examination and states as much. "Young man, Hedwig, I must say... I don't even know how you're conscious at the moment. If we swear to help you regain your strength, will you consent to hospice care in our home?"

Something kept niggling in the back of Harry's mind. They kept calling him young man, despite the fact Harry was well over a century, but he'll figure that out another time. "What... year... is this?"

"Interesting." Nicolas muttered while Perenelle answered. "1974. June of 74."

'Before the first war truly started.' Harry recalled. His overwhelming need to be ready for all that is to come and prevent the deaths of his loved ones has him nodding to Perenelle's offer of assistance.

They promptly make their detailed oaths to do him no harm. He knows it's a magical bond when, oddly enough, he faintly feels their magic.

An entire week passes in the hospice that is Nicolas and Perenelle's home. Harry wakes in the now familiar room, and for the first time, his body has no further need to return to sleep. He feels strong enough to remove the thick blanket and walk, or maybe even run. Instead, Harry enters his mindscape, which still looks like a dank and dark cell. He walks over to a dark gray brick he knows to represent his body. Placing his palm on it's surface, Harry utilizes his magic to completely change the scenery and make it stronger, something he's able to do now that he's fully rested. He spent what felt like hours in there when he heard the click of a door open.

Returning to the surface, Harry opens his eyes in the darkened room to see Perenelle enter. She walks over to him, greeting him as she runs quick diagnostic charms over his frame.

Harry has a much easier time of sensing magic now as opposed to when they first found him. Even with his enhanced memory, he can't recall ever being able to sense magic to this extent. It only leads him to more theories of what the horcrux did to his body. Theories that beg for confirmation.

"I'm ready to talk." Harry announces with much less strain than before. Perenelle looks him over and nods before leaving the spacious room. It's not long before she returns with Nicolas and they pull chairs up by the bed to sit in.

"You're Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel." he states with absolute certainty.

"Seen my head on a chocolate frog card, have you?" Nicolas easily states with a smile.

"Something like that. How did you find me?" Harry asks one of his many questions.

"That's an interesting story actually." Nicolas starts. "As you know our identity, you may also be aware of why we're famous. Even now coursing through your veins is the famed, 'Elixir of Life'."

"How I hate that label." Perenelle groans with a small hint of irritation. "I'll never forgive that oaf Guillard for betraying our trust."

"Can you blame him?" Nicolas poses to his wife. "We did tell him we were nearing 500 years of age."

"You wouldn't have given me your elixir of immortality so easy." Harry comments. "My recovery is the only thing that feels different."

Nicolas and Perenelle share a look of surprise before the older man turns to Harry. "May I have your word that you will not reveal what we share with you to anyone; for profit or recognition of any kind?" Harry nods easily. He may not know the exact avenues of his immediate plans, but he knows his goals are nowhere near as self-serving as immortality or money. "It's quite surprising and very perceptive of you to note your recovery. Yes the 'Elixir of Life' is exaggerated by uneducated rabble... well, to a degree. While it's true the reason Perenelle and I have lived for so long is due to the elixir, it is not a perpetual remedy. We take it once a month to continue prolonged life."

"It does bolsters our bodies perform to our peak levels." Perenelle adds. "Over the centuries, we perfected it and even made different variations of it, but we still used the one that needs to be taken once a month for the day we choose to move on. Your condition was systemic as it was cataclysmic. It wouldn't be a leap to say you were dead for several months before slowly starting to come back to life. Usually, we would never trust another with one of our elixirs, but your condition was so horrible, that it was needed."

"Sounds about right." Harry muttered.

Nicolas continues. "So, in the expanse of our time circling the globe, we've seen it all, I'd say. Or heard about something remarkable. Oh, the tales we can tell. The rise and fall of great kingdoms, and in this case a plethora of characters met along the way. Some were very good, truly heroes of their time. Some, not many but enough, were quite evil. The 'chaos for chaos' sake' types. But for the most part, everyone was normal. There have been a few special cases. Talented witches and wizards, such as Merlin, King Oberon, Merwyn the Malicious-"

"Vindictive troll." Perenelle mutters, though easily heard.

"Herpo the Foul." Nicolas lips twitch as he continues. "Some of our encounters were with experts in the unconventional practice of divination; Nostradamus, or in this case, the witch that has led us to you, Cassandra Lufugōd."

"Poor girl." Perenelle chimes with sorrow.

"Poor family, more like it." Nicolas estimates. At Harry's quiet and curious exterior, Nicolas continues to further explain. "We came across her plight through our travels in Greece. While most soothseers are born with their ability, Cassandra's ability was the result of a curse placed upon her by something wickedly powerful. We never learned who or what would do such a thing, but for the rest of her days, she would be cursed to foresee only the bloodiest, most tragic acts of wanton destruction perpetuated by vile and evil men. Naturally we attempted our very best to help the poor lass."

"Even in constant despair, she tried to stop what she could." Perenelle picks up the explanation from her husband. "And we like to think she was successful, but being unable to see positive outcomes, she couldn't ever know for sure if she in fact made a difference. What's worse is the curse continues throughout her family line, though only among daughters, if I remember correctly."

"Well it does weaken." Nicolas adds. "We were able to examine a descendant and found it's much weaker now than it was in Cassandra."

"The Lovegoods, I believe their surname has evolved to." Perenelle notes as a matter of fact.

Independent of his desires, the name immediately recalls memories of a girl with a quirky disposition and sad eyes. His magic pulsed just under his skin before he restrained it. That didn't go unnoticed by the Flamels. "Sorry. One of my friends, no, I don't deserve to call her a friend, more like an acquaintance, was a Lovegood. I kept her at a distance and was blind to her being bullied because of her eccentricities. Eccentricities that now make sense if she is the victim of a curse."

Nicolas patted his leg consolingly, while Perenelle hums contemplatively. They were all silent for a moment, before Perenelle speaks up again. "Well, you seem to be as normal as any 14 year old. Just a lot more magically powerful."

"I concur." Nicolas chimed in.

"So, can I assume Cassandra mentioned me in one of her premonitions?" Setting their seats in place beside Harry's bed, Nicolas nods.

"Yes. Her only premonition to us. While we were attempting to remove the curse, she told us to be at a Lilly Hill park in Brecknill, UK, June 13th year 1974, if we wanted to avoid certain travesties. We may not have taken her seriously but for the fact we never told her we were essentially immortal. That she knew without being told gave her the credibility for us to act on her instruction. And low and behold." He gestures at Harry with both hands.

"Can you imagine?" Perenelle asks. "The United Kingdom hadn't even formed until the early 1700's! How could we not take her seriously?"

It's a little jarring to think that an ancestor of Luna's from the distant past would help him on his return from the bleak future. He once again felt absolutely shitty thinking about how much of a bad friend he was to Luna.

"Mr Hedwig." Perenelle starts and continues when Harry opens his eyes. "We were hoping you might shed some light on what those travesties we might be avoiding are by helping you."

"We can tell you are... a very guarded person." Nicolas takes over. "And normally we would not pry, but we're almost sure this involves my wife and I. If you can place yourself in our position, and imagine. We've come and gone in the affairs of man and wizard sparingly for hundreds of years. We've seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, of dark lords, and short-lived peace without the need of much intervention. Having seen and been through so much, what could Cassandra have seen that might make this future so devastating that we would need to be involved? The only outcome that would make the most sense to a couple of immortals, is their demise."

"It's why we feel it's in our interest to help you if we can." Perenelle interjects. "If you need a sworn oath to hold true all you share with us, I am willing to do so."

Harry takes a moment for thought before looking at Nicolas for a similar pledge. Understanding what his eyes are asking, Nicolas says. "I would like to make a similar oath. I truly would, but I cannot be certain my silence will aid or hurt us, and others, in unforeseen ways. You can be a dark lord for all I know."

Harry stamps on his rage with his occlumancy before it can even spark his magic to frantic life. He can't exactly blame Nicolas. That's a rational precaution.

"That may leave us in a bit of a conundrum, I think." Nicolas continues. "You may not be willing to share what you know without my oath and I will not give that oath without knowing more about what you're unwilling to share."

It certainly seems like a catch 22 but Harry can be sure to explain one thing, no matter the oath. "I am no dark lord." He says with disgust. "Nor will I ever allow myself to come close to being regarded as one. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that my entire existence is for the sole purpose of dismantling and utterly destroying self-proclaimed dark lords."

The vile bitterness of his tone alone is more than enough to tell the Flamels that this young man is deathly serious. The light of green illuminating his angered eyes is the exclamation point of legitimacy. The couple share a look of concern, then a look of curiosity, and finally acceptance before returning their focus on Harry. "If you can swear that to me, I'll feel safe in swearing silence on anything you tell us now and in this room."

That was an easy oath to make, and he did so. Now it was time to ponder what it was that he should divulge. He took a deep breath. "I can't promise to tell you everything, but I'll say enough for you to grasp the entire situation."

The couple share a look and with a nod, Nicolas says. "I think that'll be fine."

"First, my name is Harry. Harry Potter."


Nicolas paced the room as he took it all in, while Perenelle was as still as a statue. Learning about their death or the deaths of everyone was very disturbing and clearly difficult for the pair to process but at some point within an hour, Nicolas stopped pacing and turned to ask Harry, "Why you?"

"That mad fool believed in a prophecy so deeply that he spent a good amount of time trying to kill me. After he sent me to Hell, I imagine he spent his time taking over the world. When he saw that there was no winners, he decided to go back in time and try again."

Nicolas stopped in his tracks. "Ah, yes. If it isn't too much of a bother, can you tell me about Hell?"

"It was a constant battle." Harry started. "I was constantly being bombarded by demonic creatures of all types, and any rest I had was sparse. I spent damn near a century down there. I had a brief respite thanks to a succubus queen. She taught me many things in exchange for sexual favors. She nearly bound me to her so that she could keep me indefinitely, but I learned never to trust anyone down there way before meeting her. I only managed to escape thanks to a dumb teen girl in America trying to summon a demon. I killed the demon being summoned and went in it's place. A quick obliviation and I was free."

"Remarkable." Nicolas uttered. "What is your plan now?"

"To collect all of Riddle's horcruxes and destroy them, then I can finally live. What I could do with that life, I don't know."

Nicolas and Perenelle glanced at each other. "Why don't you take a an extended vacation before you do anything else? The war you described clearly isn't happening yet, and it's not like the horcruxes will suddenly vanish. You spent over a century in constant action, so maybe you should spend a year or two relearning how to relax."

"Yes, there's also several different locations where you can cleanse your soul and magic. While I'm not stating that you're somehow tainted, I believe the cleansing will make things easier for you to ease back into being a civilian." Nicolas added.

Harry took a moment to consider their words. He ultimately decided that they were right, and it would do him good to finally be able to unwind. "Alright. Where is this cleansing place? Sounds like exactly what I need right now."

They both smiled at this.