Summary: Due to the heroic sacrifice of the Longbottoms the Dark Lord fell in 1981, the legacy of that night being a small boy hailed as a savior. Weeks later the effects were still felt in the loss of James Potter, his own death leaving behind a three-year-old son and a mark that would change the magical world forever.
Chapter Three
Eighteen Months Later
Tuesday, June 21st, 1983
Ravenhill
The home of the Potter family was nestled into a lush green valley deep in the Lake District, surrounded by scattered muggle hamlets and natural beauty. Ravenhill was unplottable, so it would never show up on any map, but a wizard could tell you that it was near Wast Water and Wasdale, and surrounded by some of the most breathtaking views in the British Isles.
There was a private road leading to the estate – one that a muggle would never take any particular notice of – and that road would lead to an iron gate set into an ancient stone wall. Looking through the gate always seemed a bit hazy, as if you couldn't really tell if it was foggy on the other side, but once it was open the majesty of Ravenhill would be revealed.
The narrow road which originally twisted it's way to the gate seemed to swell on the other side, and to both the left and the right, the well manicured gardens broken up by hedges and beautiful trees spread themselves out far and wide, fountains and footpaths crisscrossing the lawn. The gravel drive continued further for several hundred yards, only to suddenly widen immensely – space for a number of carriages, or perhaps even muggle cars.
Ravenhill would rise before you giving a sense of timeless antiquity and a definitive air of both history and, perhaps, wealth – though for the last several generations the wealth of the family had become more of a by-product of their endeavors, rather than the focus of them. The building had three floors and was made from a light gray stone, with dark slate roofs and a large, columned portico leading up to the wide, redwood door of the entrance.
The silhouette of the surrounding mountains and hills could be clearly distinguished from a glance.
The grounds, though not fully visible from the front, were expansive and diverse, with an abundance of wildlife, both magical and mundane, as well as small lakes and streams. There was, naturally, the back gardens suitable for parties and entertainment, as well as the stables and meadows, the Quidditch pitch and the maze of hedges which were planted more than four centuries ago.
Off to one side, a stone path lead to yet another gate, beyond which was the well-kept final resting place of the Potter family – a neat row of stone monuments, accompanied by small benches and lovely flowers. It was here that nearly every member of the Potter family were entombed since the time Ravenhill was raised from it's earliest foundations.
All in all, Ravenhill was a storied place which bore witness to the numerous generations of the Potter family century after century. It's stone walls had seen the birth, life, and death of some truly great witches and wizards – all of them of pure wizarding heritage. That is to say, until Lily and Harry Potter.
Lily Potter – born with magic, though her family had none – was the current Lady of the house. Widow to Lord James Potter, and mother to young Harry who would one day inherit all of Ravenhill, it had fallen to her to oversee the rich legacy that the Potters left behind.
On this day, she could be found in the north parlor on the first floor of the estate, joined by another witch who would find herself in nostalgic comfort within the large home which had once belonged to her great aunt on her father's side. Long ago, but not so long, it had been the Lady Dorea Potter, formerly Black, who'd called Ravenhill her own.
"I'd like to thank you again for this, Romi," Lily said, hoping that her tone was adequate to convey her gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
Her hands were shaking, and she was trying to keep her own frantic nerves from overtaking her as she checked and double checked...and triple checked that she had everything she needed. This was perhaps the most important day of her academic career, and something she wasn't sure she'd quite earned, but found herself unwilling to relinquish.
Across from her, sipping her tea and wearing a slightly amused smirk, was the woman who'd become one of her closest friends over the past year. Andromeda Tonks – formerly Black – was older than Lily by nearly eight years, but they'd quickly become friends when Lily contacted her for help with the ins and outs of the convoluted mess she had to deal with after James died. Romi was the only person she knew of who was raised around the stuffy pureblood traditions and practices, but who was also willing to teach a lowly muggleborn like herself.
Most everyone else seemed to look at her with pure disdain as she struggled to take hold of the Potter family assets and keep them running smoothly for Harry. She didn't own any of it, but she couldn't just let it fall apart and leave her son to try to clean it up when he was an adult. In this, Andromeda had been a godsend, from helping her make the correct decisions while avoiding the pitfalls of someone so inexperienced, to making sure she didn't commit some terrible faux pas which would offend the bastards her son would one day rub shoulders with.
There were a few difficulties, at first, as Andromeda looked so much like her sister Bellatrix that even looking at her had been a painful experience. Bellatrix, alongside three others, had nearly destroyed Lily's entire life, but she'd learned she couldn't hold people to the actions and wreckage of their family. After a stuttering start, their friendship had become a beacon of light in the difficult and dark days.
In the midst of fumbling her way through the process of securing her son's future, with a large helping hand from Andromeda, she'd realized that she couldn't just live for Harry without any thought for herself. While important, it was ultimately unfulfilling and she needed something for her own. The only thing she'd ever been good at was school, and so Lily returned to her studies, and earned her Mastery in Potions under the guidance of her former teacher, Professor Slughorn. She still studied Charms nearly as much, but she found it impossible to commit to both branches fully. Professor Slughorn retired after the war, and he was the only readily available source she could look to as a Master in his field.
Already having been hailed as a sort-of Potions prodigy by the man, she'd worked her arse off and finished her Mastery in just over a year. Only two months ago she'd attended the European Potions Society to accept her position among her peers at age twenty-three, one of the youngest to do so, and the youngest witch to have done so in British history.
She'd received dozens of offers for employment since then, and they were still flooding in, but the most incredible offer she'd yet received had come from an entirely unexpected source. She'd received a letter, delivered by her former Headmaster no less, from his own mentor Nicholas Flamel.
'If you'd like to take your studies further, and hold an interest for Alchemy, then I'd very much like to meet you.'
Unable to say no to an offer like that, Lily met the fabled Alchemist only a week later, and after a long conversation over lunch in Monte Carlo, he'd offered her an apprenticeship – something he hadn't done for anyone for more than six decades.
The next years of her life, Lily knew, were likely to be grueling and difficult, but she understood that if she wanted to truly do something rewarding, she would never receive another chance like this. Master Flamel did not offer twice. She accepted, immediately, and today was supposed to be her first lesson with perhaps the most legendary sorcerer who'd ever lived.
While she took her studies to an entirely different level, Andromeda agreed to keep watch over Harry during her lessons, and to begin tutoring him for his own future. Despite the two of them being close friends, Lily made sure Andromeda would be well compensated for her time and effort. She'd been cut off from her own family's assets, and she and Ted were struggling to make ends meet at times with their young daughter to look after.
Ceasing her frantic motions, Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was it, they were doing it. The hardship she and Harry faced after losing James was near crippling, but they were here – a year and a half on, and they were doing it. She was creating a life, and Harry would be taking the first steps to fill the shoes of the Potter men. They were living, painful as that may be some days.
It's all James would've ever wanted, and she knew that down to her very soul.
"Finally calming yourself down a bit?" Romi asked, her tone amused. "You're going to be fine, just as I've told you a hundred times. Just as Horace told you, and Albus, and anyone else you haven't listened to these past weeks."
The nervous laugh that escaped her made Lily feel anything but confident, and she ran a shaking hand through her hair. "I hear you, I do, but...I don't know. It feels like it isn't real, like I don't deserve it or something. There have to be thousands of other people out there who're so much more qualified and already know Alchemy to an extent I probably can't even comprehend."
"You deserve it, and while it may be true that there're people who know so much more than you, only Master Flamel gets to decide who's more qualified to be his own student." Romi replied, swatting her hand as if to brush off Lily's entire argument. "He contacted you, not the other way 'round, and so he must know exactly what he's looking for in a student. You'll see. Ten years from now, when the world looks to you as a leading figure in both Potions and Alchemy, you'll realize then that you earned it."
That was it, that was what she needed in a friend, and the reason she'd come to cling to Romi so tightly. Lily was strong, she knew she was. She and Harry made it through hell together, but sometimes she just needed a friend to give her a little shove. Some friends proved that they couldn't be relied upon, but in Romi she'd found exactly what she needed.
Shaking her head once, Lily nodded sharply. "You're right," she said, huffing a sharp exhale. "It's done, I've been accepted as his student, and now I just have to prove myself."
"Meanwhile, I have to try and wrangle the little monster you gave birth to," Romi muttered, though there was a smile hidden in her expression. "I swear that boy can disappear like a damn ghost, straight through the walls."
Lily laughed, gathering her bag and the portkey – an innocent looking bottle cap – which would whisk her away to France in less than ten minutes.
"Blame Dobby," Lily replied. "Harry's convinced him to apparate him all over the place. If he's there one moment, and gone the next, chances are Dobby's to blame."
Andromeda huffed, shaking her head. "I've never seen a child treat a house-elf as their best friend like he does. Now with the pair of them, Dora's sure to be even more of a handful. At her age she doesn't need any more magic to get herself in trouble, she does enough on her own."
"They're inseparable," Lily agreed. "I wasn't so keen when James wanted an elf. We only lived in the small cottage then, and there wasn't much for him to do, but now...well, I'm glad he convinced me, even if it does make it harder to keep track of Harry. If you're familiar with it, Appare Vestigium, the tracking spell is right handy with the two of them." A quick Tempus charm told her the time, and seeing it, Romi nodded.
"Almost time," she remarked. "Good luck, and don't worry about the little one. I'll wrestle him into the library eventually."
Lily gave her one last shaky smile, her nerves seeming to once more flare, and then the hooking sensation of the portkey ripped her away from home, and straight to Master Flamel's chateaux on the shores of the Mediterranean.
Though it was summertime, the difference between the temperature back home and the one she found herself stumbling into was a large one. The heat was the first thing she noticed, followed by the scent of the sea and the sound of the gentle rushing of the wind. She landed on a sort-of stone pad, oval in shape and decorated with runes for both travel and containment, she noticed.
An early form of an apparition point, then.
They'd studied them in Ancient Runes back in sixth year. The precursor to the funneling wards used in the modern day, the early apparition points were a series of runes tied into the ward stones of the property, and which would force any magical travel in the area into a single point. It was more stable than the modern style, but was much less comfortable and it would grab hold of portkeys as well – something that would be inconvenient for places like Diagon Alley, though they were still in use at the Ministry itself.
"Magnifique, tu l'as fait sans problème," Lily heard, and approaching her from the footpath was the man she knew to be Master Flamel himself. He was, well...ancient to be fair. Thin wisps of white hair could be found on his head, and he was bowed slightly in stature, though the speed of his walk would have one believe he was a much younger man. His face was lined from laughing and scowling both, and his blue eyes held a look of…something she couldn't place.
Wisdom seemed far too ordinary a word for such a legend.
Still, realizing she didn't understand his greeting, Lily winced and bowed her head slightly. "Forgive me Master Flamel," she said. "I didn't...that is to say I don't understand French. I'm honored to be here, all the same."
He allowed a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "No need for bowing or being formal, my dear," he said, and she recognized the perfection of his London accent immediately, which wasn't something she'd taken notice of at their earlier meeting. "A waste of perfectly good time."
"Of course, Master," she nodded, drawing, for some reason, another chuckle from him.
"Today, you call me Master, but I wonder….how many days until you curse my very name?" he asked, a small smile hooking his mouth. "It only took Albus a fortnight before I caught him mumbling quite unkind things in regards to my character."
Lily found herself somewhat shocked and horrified, clutching the shoulder strap of her bag tightly. "I wouldn't…"
"You will," he corrected, still smiling. "Come along now, child."
On the south end of Ravenhill and far away from his mother who was beginning an entirely new journey, Harry Potter found himself once more in the Hall of Honor, just outside the door of the study, which was locked.
The massive frame of the hanging portrait loomed overhead, and Harry stood below it to take it in again. It wasn't moving, not like the rest, and his mum said she wanted to keep it that way for a while. The others were all moving and a lot of them were watching him, but he was used to it. They watched him a lot.
The still face of James Potter looked back at him, and Harry narrowed his eyes as he searched the magical painting. He was looking for something different, or something he hadn't seen yet. It was big enough to have missed something, far larger than himself and hanging out of his reach. Still, he'd looked at it enough and he couldn't see anything new.
"Harry, my boy, don't you have company?" the voice above his head called. It was his granddad Charlus, the portrait showing a really old man in some fancy gray robes. It was set upon the wall just opposite the one of his dad. "This isn't the place to be when you have friends about."
"Dora don't mind," Harry replied. "She's probably outside chasing gnomes. She likes to catch them and throw them in the lake. Says it's funny how they swim." Without much thought, Harry sat down on the floor and slid backwards against the wall so he could see the portrait better. "Can you tell me about him, Granddad?"
"Harry…" the portrait seemed to sigh, but Harry couldn't see it. "I tell you about him every day, and I'll continue to do so for as long as you like, but it can't always be like this. Your mother doesn't want you spending all day in here, you know? And besides, Ravenhill has all kinds of secrets that your father used to find. Why don't you go explore some more?"
Harry shrugged, though the portrait likely couldn't see him. He liked exploring, but he liked it better when he was talking about his dad. Mum didn't like it, it made her sad, but Granddad always talked about him when she wasn't around. He told Harry stories about when his dad was just a boy, and when he was in school. He never had much to say about after then, when he was a man, but Harry thought maybe it was 'cause his granddad was already passed on by then and didn't know.
Portraits couldn't remember some things. Sometimes they would forget they even talked to you. They sometimes even forgot things about when they were alive. Great Uncle Fleamont said things that he thought were true about Potions, but Mum said they weren't and that he couldn't remember right. She said that portraits were good magic, but they weren't perfect, and that he shouldn't rely on them to teach him things because they could be wrong.
"I suppose I could tell you about the pretty love letters your dad used to write for your mum," Granddad said finally, but Harry wrinkled his nose. He didn't care about that stuff. He wanted to know the real stories. About how his dad turned into a stag in Grandma's kitchen, but the floors were too slick and he kept slipping all over the place, knocking everything about until she hexed him back right.
Or how he once rode his broom through the window of the greenhouse 'cause he made a bet with Uncle Siri that he could catch a quaffle even if he was hit with a blinding jinx. Or how he spent all of his pocket money on joke stuff, and then tried to pay for butterbeer with leprechaun gold at the Three Broomsticks, and Madam Rosmerta threw him out on his ear.
Before he could tell his granddad just how boring a story about letter would be, he heard the heavy pounding of footsteps from the drawing room, followed by a loud thump and a high pitched yelp. "I'm okay!"
Harry grinned, though he quickly hid the expression when Dora entered the large, wide space of the Hall, rubbing her elbow. She was older than Harry by four years (and a few months, she'd remind him), and she always liked to make herself taller when he was around so she could call him short. At the moment – though it could change very quickly – her hair was a virulent shade of blue, and her nose was short and pointy. What she looked like, he knew, just depended on how long she felt like looking that way.
"There's the little runt," she said, making her way over to him.
"I'm not little," he snarked back.
"Are so," said Dora. "You're only four."
"I'll be five! Mum says it's only a few weeks 'til my birthday." Harry returned. "Least I can walk without falling over."
"Yeah, well I'm already nine, so pipe down runt." she said, smirking. "And I only fall over 'cause you've got so much rubbish in the way everywhere I turn."
"You fall over 'cause you never make your legs the same size," Harry responded, grinning right back at her. That's what Ted always said, anyway, and Harry remembered how she got all sulky when her dad reminded her.
The girl flushed, narrowing her eyes at him while her hair changed to a deep red color. She looked like she was going to respond to him, but there was a light 'pop' announcing the arrival of Dobby just between them. "Harry Potter, Missy Dora, there you is!" the little creature cried out (he was as tall as Harry, but house-elves didn't count). "Dobby is looking everywhere for you. Miss Andromeda wants you in the library."
Before either of them could get a word out – neither of them wanted to go to the library, as it turns out – Dobby grabbed their hands and they were suddenly in a different wing of the house altogether. Dora landed with an 'oof', stumbling to the side, and Harry laughed quietly, still stood on his own feet. He was used to having Dobby take him places, and he had better balance than Dora anyway.
"Well, now," Aunt Romi said, smirking down at Dobby. "That is handy. Never thought to have the house-elf wrangle you lot for me. Saves me the trouble."
Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. She wasn't gonna turn Dobby against him, was she? How'd she know, anyway? Noticing that Dobby was grinning up at her, Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. His mum must have told her. She figured it out a long time ago, when he used to have Dobby sneak him out of his room after bedtime.
She'd forbidden it these days, and for some reason Dobby always listened to the adults more than him.
"Oi! You gotta warn me before you go yanking me around like that," Dora grumbled, rubbing her backside which had caught the worst of her fall. "I fall down enough on my own."
"The truth if I've ever heard it," her mother remarked. "Either way, you two've had enough mucking about. Time for your lessons, and don't even try to get out of it. Dora, you've got your history work from yesterday, and you still owe me a couple of pages of reading besides. Harry, your mum left me the notes about where you left off with your maths and we'll be starting on some history for you today as well."
Harry groaned miserably. His mum was always making him do maths and learn his letters and write his name and now history too? And even worse was she'd not let him have a single serving of dessert if he didn't finish it all. Aunt Romi was nice, he guessed, but she wasn't so nice she'd keep it from his mum if he didn't do as she said
"Meanwhile, Dobby isn't going to be in here to distract you, and don't even think of skiving off. He'll be in the kitchens preparing lunch, and I've told him not to listen to you if you're supposed to be working," Aunt Romi continued, seemingly trying her best to crush him beneath her fancy high-heel shoe.
"Nymphadora, put it back," she said, not even turning to look at the girl. Harry glanced over to see her grinning sheepishly, having tried to slip his mum's copy of Witch Weekly into her textbook.
"Don't call me Nymphadora," she mumbled nearly too quietly to hear.
This was it, he guessed. They'd had some fun, but now his life was over. He was only five (nearly), but already they'd managed to lock him up good. Even Dobby couldn't spring him, he'd be locked up in the kitchens and not allowed any fun either. Soon they'd have him in the stuffy library day and night, he just knew it.
On the other hand, his broom wasn't far…
"Tell me dear, what do you know about Alchemy?" Master Flamel asked, and then quickly added on, "I don't mean the textbook definition, which is slightly true but mostly not depending on which books you read. I mean what do you, personally, know about Alchemy?"
Lily was somewhat nervous, but she'd brushed up in the past several weeks, and he already knew she hadn't done more than the slight amount of Alchemy required to finish her Potions Mastery.
He had her sat at a small round table on the back patio, where his wife had served them both tea – and she was a lovely woman, Perenelle – only to once more retreat back inside.
"I suppose the answer is 'not much', or perhaps even 'nothing'. As you say, I've learned the definition given by most scholars, but if you say they're mostly wrong then I...I suppose I believe you, Master." she answered.
He nodded briefly, holding his silence for a moment as if weighing her answer. Finally, he said. "The textbook definition is partially true, and it can give you a solid basis if you are willing to be innovative enough, much like the textbooks you would have studied in your early days learning Potions. However, with just a little tweak here and there, a little experimentation – this is where you must have gone to take your Potions studies so far, so very fast, yes?"
Lily nodded. She'd been doing tiny little experiments since second year, when she realized that the Potions text was good for the average brewer, but would never – no matter how precise she was – create a flawless potion. She knew there had to be something she was missing, and slowly, she'd come to learn that she was so very right.
Once she took that first step, it seemed the entire world opened to her. By the time she reached her seventh year, she could nearly brew with only a list of ingredients, and barely anything more. Professor Slughorn, or Horace as he now preferred, began challenging her more and more, and she'd flourished under the pressure.
"Well, I want you to forget that attitude completely," Master Flamel said, and for a moment it caught her flat-footed. "You do not experiment with Alchemy. You must know the results before you act, lest you find yourself dead, or even worse. The very first student I ever taught disregarded that message, and he fused himself – permanently and painfully – into the side of a tree. There was nothing we could do for him, and I still remember the sounds…"
Lily winced, swallowing hard at the thought.
"The truth is that, yes, to become a master at Alchemy, you must also be willing to step outside the lines of what is common knowledge. However, before you do so, you must know. The Alchemy, in the end, is the simplest part. The research, the studying, the calculations and the breadth of knowledge required are where the true work begins and ends."
"For instance," he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small glass vial. It was filled with a yellow liquid, very thin and, as it moved, she could see a golden vapor within the container. It shifted oddly, sometimes all of it collecting on one side, and sometimes it would spread out on it's own, before disappearing back into the fluid. "This is a very simple elixir called Vivificare, one of the earliest you will attempt, and it's purpose is rather mundane. You pour this into the soil of a plant, magical or muggle, and within twelve hours, it will be fully mature."
Lily's eyes widened – he called that mundane? The benefits of such an elixir would be astronomical. Mandrakes, Dittany – there were dozens of plants used for potions and healing which were immune to unnatural growth using the Herbivicus charm. That vial could also be priceless for recovering a plant belonging to an endangered species.
"This is not an elixir you will find in any textbook, as it is one of my own creation," he continued. "You will eventually get to those and learn some of the most common Alchemical practices, but first I need for you to truly understand what you are doing, without the help of a recipe. Because of this, you will start on something, such as the Vivificare elixir, without a clear direction. I will give you a partial list of ingredients, and a partial base Potion to work with. From that, with my guidance and your own research, you will be asked to re-create this substance."
Evidently seeing the minor panic attack she was about to suffer, Master Flamel chuckled. "Relax, it is not so very difficult as you may believe, and you will find yourself more than qualified. Would you like to know just why I chose you as my student?"
Lily nodded jerkily. "I had wondered…"
"It is not, as you may believe, just because of your exemplary work with Potions, though I will say that your dissertation on the effects of the Wiggenweld potion given intravenously, when concentrated properly, was truly a joy to read. It will have a cascading effect across the world when dealing with cursed wounds." he remarked. "You are a credit to the field."
"I...thank you, Master Flamel," she responded, smiling tightly. Had she only thought of it sooner, James may have been alive. The cursed wounds he entered St Mungo's with would have been healed had they only known. Instead, they'd been unable to find the counter-curse quickly enough and her husband paid the price.
"My choice of you as a student was made by your other expertise, combined with your Potions Mastery," he continued, unaware of the knot that had formed in her chest. "To be a successful Alchemist, to truly master it, as it were, you must have skills beyond Potions. One must have a deep knowledge of all basic studies of Magic, including Herbology, Runic Magic, Arithmancy, Creatures, Charms and even Transfiguration. All subjects in which you scored higher than any of your peers, and all in the same year. You take the study of magic seriously, in all fields, and thus Alchemy is something that you can absolutely excel in, much like my former apprentice and your former Headmaster."
Lily had never, to her knowledge, been compared to Albus Dumbledore in her life, and were it anyone else saying so, she would have laughed in their face.
"You may never match Albus' skill with a wand – few enough ever have or will in the future – but your academics are remarkably similar, if you don't mind my saying," said Master Flamel, sipping from his tea cup. "He, like you, showed an incredible thirst for knowledge, and found himself gifted in many branches of magic. He focused heavily on Transfiguration, which is very nearly as important as Potions when it comes to Alchemy, but he excelled in a wide variety of fields."
"I...I'm not sure what to say to that," Lily responded quietly. "Albus is so far beyond anything I've ever been capable of, I don't think the comparison is quite accurate, Master Flamel."
He rasped a short laugh, slapping the table in front of him. "Don't be modest, dearie," he said, still smiling. "Albus is a great man and a great wizard, but he isn't a bloody saint. He is very skilled with esoteric magics and the mystical art of talking in circles, but he's still a man and quite a foolish one at that. He keeps a pocket full of candy, for Merlin's sake."
Lily grinned a little unconsciously, realizing that it did sound a little ridiculous.
"Either way, there isn't any need to compare yourself to others, aside from giving a reason as to why I approached you. You will likely learn in a completely different way, and take your studies in a very opposite direction to Albus. He was focused more on transmutation of objects and metals, while you seem to focus more heavily on elixirs and potions. You will learn both, but there will come a time when you must decide which direction you want to take for your Mastery. Far be it from me to say, but I believe the study of transformative droughts and elixirs will catch your attention." he said, standing from his seat.
Master Flamel snapped his fingers – without a wand in sight – and two heavy books thumped onto the table before her. He then reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crystal vial in the shape of a teardrop, and placed it on top of the books.
"This is where we begin," he said. She glanced at the cover of the books, and frowned to herself. Master Flamel only laughed with that same, raspy tone. "That's right dearie. The first book is a compendium of Latin, which you will require. The second is a book which will change as you read it, but will eventually teach you to speak French. I'll be damned if I'm going to force myself to speak only English for the next several years."
Lily cleared her throat uncomfortably. "And the vial?"
"Drink it," he said simply. "It is an elixir to stimulate memory. A single swallow will last around six hours, depending on how big your mouth is. It might give you a bit of a headache, but I've used it to learn nearly four thousand languages, and I know Albus did so to learn Mermish. It'll get you through the two of those just fine. Just use it once a day, when you start here, and don't drink it past the seventh day. I'll return in time for lunch, and we can begin with a discussion of your general knowledge after we eat."
He was gone – not a pop nor a whisper, merely gone as if he'd never been there in the first place. Staring at the books in front of her and overloaded with the information dump she'd received that morning, Lily began to wonder exactly what she'd signed up for.
Later that evening, Lily returned home with a splitting migraine – bit of a headache her arse – to find Romi sitting on the patio, watching as the kids flew around the back garden on training brooms. Without much thought she nearly fell into the chair next to her, groaning and allowing her head to drop into her hands.
Romi snorted rudely. "That bad, huh?"
Lily glanced at her and nearly glared. "You have no idea."
If their discussion in the morning seemed to overwhelm her, the one that followed later that afternoon made her feel like a first year all over again. Master Flamel questioned her on a length and breadth of topics she hadn't prepared for, from Astronomy, which she hadn't studied since OWLs, to the way the seasons affected ritualistic practices in both modern and archaic magics. It was so far beyond anything she'd had to do for her Potions Mastery that, once more, she wondered if she were even cut-out for Alchemy at all.
Dobby appeared suddenly with a glass of her favorite dessert wine and a tray of biscuits, and she could have hugged the little bugger if he hadn't disappeared immediately afterwards. He wasn't really comfortable with the friendly nature she tried to express to him, having been apparently expecting a different relationship than the one he received. He was far more comfortable with Harry.
"You couldn't tell it by looking at him, but Harry's of the opinion that I'm some kind of Dementor looking to crush his soul with books and parchment," Romi responded with a sarcastic grin. "I thought he was going to faint when I started him learning a little geography. He doesn't believe he'll ever need to know where Scotland is."
Despite her rough day, Lily allowed a small laugh at his dramatics. He was a very active boy and getting him to pay attention to the basic lessons was a chore on its own. Still, it was early days, and he was very young. He'd learn the benefit of it in the years to come.
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to get home and get dinner ready. Ted'll be home within the hour, and he'll want to see Dora," Romi said, standing. Lily stood as well and moved to give the older woman a hug.
"Thank you for this," she said, for the hundredth time. "You should bring Ted 'round for dinner some days. Dobby would love to cook for all of us and it'll save you the effort after dealing with these two all day."
Not to mention the fact that dinner with only her and Harry was a rather lonely affair. She loved her son and that would never change, but an adult conversation over dinner was something that'd become so rare for her that she nearly craved it. She spent her time studying and looking after Harry, brewing and practicing her craft and it was all very fulfilling, but she missed having a social life as well.
The pair of them didn't get out much, and even if they wanted to there weren't a lot of options for her. Meeting friends in a pub was right out with a four-year-old, and she didn't feel comfortable attending the social events where all the purebloods like to sneer and scowl at her and Harry. They'd spend a day in the Alley every once in a while, or Hogsmeade, but they mostly did so alone. Harry wasn't old enough yet to understand he couldn't talk about magic in front of muggles, so the entire muggle world would have to wait.
"Can do," Andromeda agreed. "Ted would love to take a few hours and look around at some of the history here. Maybe we could even foist the kids off on him for a few hours and have a peaceful evening."
"Sounds perfect," Lily responded. "No need to set a date, just whenever you're free bring him 'round. I should be finished around the same time each day, and sometimes a little earlier if Master Flamel only has me do some reading. He knows about Harry, of course, so he's said he'll be accommodating."
Lily called for Dobby and had him keep an eye on Harry while she helped Romi gather her own little one. She saw them to the floo, waving a brief goodbye as they disappeared into the green flames, and then wandered back out to the rear patio.
She shouldn't have been surprised to find them both gone and smiled indulgently at the training broom placed haphazardly against the low stone wall. Shaking her head briefly, she flicked her wand into her hand and brought it to her lips. "Appare Vestigium," she whispered, blowing onto the tip.
Immediately a large cloud of golden dust rushed from her wand, blowing as if in a windstorm and coating the ground before disappearing altogether. Left behind were a patchwork of golden footprints, some of them her own and some of them leading into the house. Having used this trick in the past, she easily found the tiny footprints of Harry and Dobby and began to follow them down the stone path.
Her steps slowed after only a few moments as she realized where they were leading.
Sure enough, she came upon Dobby stood outside the short iron gate of the cemetery, tugging nervously on his ears. He noticed her quickly, and his guilt seemed to increase. "Miss Lily, Dobby tried to tell Harry Potter to stay put, but Harry Potter wanted to…he wanted to see Master James."
Her throat seemed to close for just a tiny moment, but she shook her head and turned the motion into a single nod. "It quite alright Dobby. Please go begin dinner, and we'll be inside in a few moments," she said quietly. The little elf vanished with a pop back to the house, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment.
Harry had never been shy about going to visit his father's grave, and in fact he preferred it. She wanted to have that same freedom, but she found it a much harder task to get through than Harry did. Still, it wasn't anything she hadn't already dealt with dozens of times, and so she took a deep breath, and slowly walked past the gate. She knew the route without thought, and it didn't take her long to hear the muttered words begin to echo through the grave markers of Potters long past.
"-ora keeps calling me short, but I'll show her. I'm gonna be so tall she won't be able to catch up, even with her magic."
Lily approached quite slowly, listening in as Harry talked through his day, and appreciating the gesture for what it was. This was how Harry dealt with it – not by hiding from the memory of his dad, but by embracing it and still holding him just as closely as he ever had. He'd sneak down here and talk to James as if he were right there listening. It was a beautiful and heartbreaking thing to witness, and she'd decided to allow him to deal with the loss as best a child could, even if things like this hurt to experience.
"-ooks and stuff, but I don't really like it much. 'snot as fun as flying or exploring." said Harry.
Lily finally came close enough that he noticed her, and she tried her best to smile down at the little black-haired boy. He looked just like James, aside from the eyes of course, and even the little square framed glasses reminded her of him. His hair was messy and windswept from flying, and his little robes were dirty from sitting on the ground against James' grave marker. He could have easily been his father, fresh off the pitch and sitting against a tree on the Hogwarts lawn, playing with that ridiculous snitch.
"Look at this, a boy that doesn't even greet his own mum when she gets home," she remarked, reaching down to pick him up. She wouldn't mention anything about his father unless he did, and instead tried to pretend he was just in the back garden playing. She hugged him close, and she was happy that he was still young enough to hug her back without any embarrassment.
"'lo Mum," he said, and she could feel his grin against her shoulder.
Slowly she began walking back toward the house and started telling him – in rather childish terms – about her own day and all the things she'd be learning from her new teacher. She knew she couldn't sit and talk to James' grave about it and keep her composure, so she didn't even try.
Author's Note: Chapter 3 done, and if you couldn't tell, this fic is going to have a bit of a slow start. There is a lot of world building and set up I want to get through before Harry leaves for Hogwarts.
This is going to be quite a bit different than most other fics, and with a lot of original ideas. If there is a fic similar to this one, I haven't come across it yet. Likely not everything will be original, as it's hard to do, but the majority at least.
There isn't much to say about this chapter, as it's primarily set up for future plot points. I want to show some in-depth exploration of different magics, and Alchemy is going to be one of them. Also, this is NOT going to be a Dark!Harry or Dark!Lily fic, so just a heads up to those looking for that in the comments. They aren't going to become some murdering savages because James died – that just isn't realistic. Most stories that go that way become so outlandish and ridiculous that I can barely stand to read them.
I am using some cliches, so I won't judge too harshly, but that is my stance on it.
As always, thanks for reading and review if you want to, or don't if you don't.