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Act IV - Skin In The Game
Chapter 15: A Deal With The Devil
Harry was speechless.
Seeing that blood-red shard in front of him sent him reeling down memory lane. Seeing himself in the mirror of Erised, with a similar crystal in his hands, only for it to appear in his pocket had been one of the most magical moments of his life. Even to his undeveloped senses, he had felt the strangeness of the object, and even in his pubescent mind, it had called out to him.
And now, years later, he had the stone's creator offer it to him.
"Go ahead," said Nicholas, a knowing smile on his features. "Ask it."
"You said a philosopher's stone," said Harry. "A stone, not the stone."
That knowing smile didn't disappear. "I told you, young Harry, me and my wife have enough Elixir to last us to put our affairs in order. And believe me when I say this, our work has only begun."
Of course, thought Harry. Nicholas Flamel was the inventor of the Philosopher's stone. And someone that could invent it once, just how difficult could it be for him to keep creating more of them?
"Back at the Chamber, you said you were glad that the stone was now gone from this world."
Nicholas smiled. "A convenient fiction to help keep every dark witch, wizard and shadow organisation on the planet from trying to kidnap me." The man looked entirely too amused. "Trust me, seeing these wards turn the intruders to gore gets tiresome after seeing it the hundredth time. Unfortunately, nobody ever gets the memo. So when Brian approached me with the idea of using the stone as bait for your Dark Lord, it was⦠how do you put it? Two birds with a stone?"
"Butβ¦ what if Voldemort β"
"Don't be foolish, Potter," The alchemist chastised him. "Had I perceived any chance that the upstart would have gotten his hands on my stone, I wouldn't have agreed to his insane plan in the first place. I believe even Brian suspected the same, unless old age has truly rendered him senile." He barked out a laugh. "Though, I'll say this, his plan lacked the bare thought of a man that would've put into an endeavour of such significance."
Harry let the jab on the Headmaster slide. As much as he respected the man, he knew that bringing the stone to Hogwarts and setting a trap was a foolish and dangerous thing to do. It was truly fortunate that Voldemort had not sent Quirrell on a murder spree, or worse, hadn't possessed any of the students out of sheer spite.
The alchemist handed the stone to Harry who held it gingerly, still having trouble believing the amount of power the tiny shrapnel held within. The tiny thing held more magic in it than he did in his body, and he had more raw magical output than most wizards out there.
And that wasn't even the remotely interesting part about the stone.
"This is the genuine thing," he said, looking at the stone in awe, turning it around, his eyes morphing to putrid yellow as he inspected it. "This isn't just false conjuration out of magic. The liquid, with all that energy, actually transformed to solid. It's⦠it's real."
Harry's eyes morphed back to green. "You didn't transfigure the liquid. You transmuted it. The change is permanent."
"Impressive," noted Nicholas. "Insight so intrusive should almost be considered a treasure in itself. To be able to witness magic in its barest, unfiltered form without Seeing it⦠truly you are a spectacle, Harry Potter." He smiled. "You are indeed correct, save for one tiny detail. It wasn't liquid in the beaker, Potter. It was plasma, a transitory state between liquid and solid, rendered stable using my craft. Just like you are hybridising magic spells by altering their nature using Death as a concept, I am capable of achieving stable transitory states between different states of matter and energy. In fact, it is one of the cornerstones of my research, one might say."
Control over transitory states of matter and energy? Creating materials that can store near impossible amounts of energy and rendering them almost passive to the general environment? Harry was no expert but even he had an inkling of just how many rules of standard magic that revelation just broke.
"A philosopher's stone is a reservoir that stores magical energy in its purest form. Energy that can be used to perform transmutation, something that is impossible with standard magic, no matter how many wand movements you swing, or how many runes you draw. With this, you can transmute nearly anything within reasonable boundaries, whether it be amplifying one's life force to heal from a particularly nauseating dark curse for years, or transforming lead to gold."
Harry didn't need to be a deductive genius to realise what Nicholas was inferring. Even with the Black Family Magic empowering the blood curse, he could use the Stone β use the Elixir of life to amplify Daphne's lifeforce. If nothing else, it would serve as a stop gap until he found a more permanent solution.
With just this, Daphne's chances at survival had skyrocketed. No longer would he have to strive to achieve his goal of finding his solution through Death thaumaturgy within two years. That orβ¦.
Harry went still.
'Your expression tells me that you have just reached a frightening conclusion, Harry Potter. One that excites you way more than holding the Philosopher's Stone in your hands."
Not for the first time, Harry cursed himself for being unable to learn Occlumency. But that didn't mean he didn't have other options.
Harry did what he had been fighting for months.
He let the owl take control.
A sereneness took over him, a pure, comforting calmness accompanied by a predator instinct that only cared about its prey. Questions, worries about right and wrong, quibbles about motivations and goals, doubts and suspicions β everything vanished, replaced by a preternatural cold, ruthless logical mindset. And noting Nicholas's sudden change in demeanour, he too had felt the change.
'Impressive," murmured the alchemist. "The flows of magic about you suddenly changed paths, almost as if⦠if I didn't know better, I'd say you aren't the person you were a moment ago. What magic is this?"
Another person would have probably felt pride at his words. But another person didn't have Harry's clarity, or his focus.
It was already taking everything in him to not crush the stone with his fingers. In Death's eyes, the stone was everything wrong with the world. A congealed mass of intense corruptive energy in its truest form, one that could bring permanent change in Reality, unlike the temporary tricks that were transfiguration or charms. Before he could act on those instincts, he hastily returned the stone to the alchemist, who blinked in surprise.
"Death," said Harry softly. "Death is the great neutralizer, Nicholas Flamel. All doubts, all questions, all emotions β high and low, they all come to rest in Death's embrace."
Nicholas barked out a laugh. "How exciting! I have spent centuries perfecting my path to immortality, and today, I find myself welcoming Death into my sanctum."
"The stone you gave Dumbledoreβ¦." said Harry slowly. "It was already emptied of its power. That's why it got destroyed so easily."
He had assumed that it was because of his Death powers that caused the stone's destruction. But maybe there was another, subtle reason.
"Incorrect, or rather, inadequate," said Nicholas. "The stone I gave him was close to being extinguished, but it could still last for half a decade, I believe. This one, in my hand, could last you a century with ease, if you use it just to extend your natural lifespan. No Harry, Brian planned on something far more foolish and terribly interesting at the same time. Can you guess what it might be?"
The answer came to Harry swifter than he thought.
"He put the stone in the Mirror of Erised."
"Exactly," laughed Nicholas, clapping his hands. "Pity I'm no longer a professor. Still, there might be some hope to that end yet. Later."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the cryptic statement but said nothing.
"Brian embedded an object as powerful as the Philosopher's stone into an enchanted object as dangerous as the Mirror of Erised." Nicholas barked out a mad laugh. "He inserted power, true, unfiltered power of transmutation, into something as bewitching as that Mirror. Frankly, that the Mirror hadn't already lured in half the students of the castle and killed them all is utterly mystifying."
Harry was uneasily reminded of the nights he had slipped out of his dormitory with his Cloak, just to sit and stare at his parents' reflections in the mirror. If Nicholas had been right, just how had he survived its allure? Was Death the reason? Had the Peverell magic been protecting him even from that?
Really, the more he felt he was closer to getting answers, he just ended up getting more questions.
"I had estimated that the stone would collapse upon itself the moment it was pulled out of the mirror. Imagine my surprise when an eleven-year-old, the Boy-Who-Lived nonetheless, had successfully averted the Mirror's bewitchment, and yet somehow, destroyed my stone."
"I'm surprised you waited this long to meet me then."
A wolfish grin formed on the ancient alchemist's face. "You will learn, Harry Potter, that once you get a taste of immortality, you begin to perceive Time differently. I can disregard months and years the way other humans lose track of seconds and minutes. In fact, come. Come with me."
The Alchemist led him further deep into his mansion, and unsurprisingly, it was bigger, far bigger on the inside than the outside. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if the mansion was as large as Hogwarts inside. With near-endless wealth generating capacity, and with him being what he was, it was not inconceivable that the Flamels had gathered wealth of the likes that would make the British nobility go green in envy.
Still, the last thing he had imagined was to walk into a large, subterranean oceanarium, containing the largest aquatic exhibits Harry had seen, indoor or otherwise. Its outer ring of exhibits sported a number of absolutely large pools that made the Black lake look small in comparison, complete with plants and moss and everything. A pair of grindylows swept by them in the water, flicking their heads out to get a look at them as they went. One of them made a chittering sound that wasn't very melodic. The other twitched its octopus-like tentacles and splashed a little water their way, all in good fun.
That led to the section with the massive walls of magically reinforced glass, and beyond it swam creatures whom nature had equipped to roam the open vastness of the deep blue sea. Harry spotted a duo of hippocampuses spending time together, only to be disturbed by a massive kelpie that rushed at them, only to swerve at the last moment. Kappas, marmites,selkies, mermaids β the place had it all. But most surprising of them all, was the sheer number of sharks floating inside the tanks. To Harry's limited knowledge, they were just worldly sharks, not magical equivalents. They glided through the tank like wraiths, the odd light casting sinister shades over their scales. Their shadows drifted disembodied over the room's walls, magnified by the distance and the glass walls of the oceanarium.
"It's a metaphor," he said quietly, his voice mellow and deep. "Look at them. Swimming, eating, mating, hunting, killing, fleeing, hiding β each to its nature. All of them are so different. So alien to each other. Their world is in constant motion, always changing, always threatening, challenging." He moved one arm, sweeping it in a wider gesture. "They cannot know how fragile it is, or that they are constantly surrounded by beings with the power to destroy their world and kill them all with the twitch of a finger. It's no fault of theirs, of course." Nicholas shrugged. "They are simplyβ¦ limited. Very, very limited."
"You're playing the creepy vibe a bit too hard."
Nicholas let out a quiet laugh. 'I assure you, I am not. My animagus form is a shark. Swimming in the constant motion of the deep waters, much like how you scour the skies as an owl. We are opposites, you and I, much like our choices of thaumaturgy. That both of us have been brought together by fate is a mystery far greater than the Fidelius charm. Tell me, Potter, what would you say if I asked you to spend a week here with me and Perenelle? You and I might have a great many common interests in the future."
"I wouldn't say much of anything," said Harry. "I've already met Madame Flamel, and she didn't exactly give the companionable vibe earlier."
Nicholas laughed. "That she doesn't. I agree. Sometimes I wonder how I lasted centuries with her. Then I remember we live in a dangerous world. One adapts and thrives or one dies."
Merlin, he's chatty, isn't he? Thought Harry. There was no doubt that the interaction between him and Perenelle earlier was planned to perfection. The alchemist wanted to give him a taste of what to expect, and had proceeded to dazzle him by offering him a philosopher's stone.
For any other wizard on the planet, the Philosopher's stone was truly the apex of magical ingenuity. The ability to harness that energy to transmute one thing into another was truly the epitome of all human desires. Wealth, strength, magical power, elongated lifespan, this tiny shard could provide it all.
And yet, he had to have known that Harry wouldn't have fallen for something so blase. Nicholas had himself told him, he prefered to wait and ensure that his calculations were perfect. Trying to dazzle him with the Stone would be an act of a fool, and Nicholas Flamel was many things, but he wasn't a fool.
Because, said a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Daphne. The goal of this conversation doesn't have anything to do with the subject or the context of the conversation.
Wheels within wheels.
Merlin! It was a metaphor.
This conversation was a metaphor for everything. Nicholas hadn't come to show him the aquatic creatures. The Flamels had engineered the entire thing, with Apolline Delacour in tow, to get him to do something for them.
They were after a bigger game.
He glanced at the stone in Nicholas's hand. Yes, that was it. Nicholas knew what drove Harry, and decided it would be the perfect bait to get him to play ball. By offering him a temporary stop-gap to halt Daphne's malediction, Nicholas Flamel would gut the secrets of Death from him, and use him as a tool to unveil the secrets of true immortality.
No, not immortal. He was already immortal. With the concept of Death removed from the fabric of existence, the Flamels would be eternal. And the moment Harry said yes, he would become part of a greater system, and be drawn into a great, twisted game of cat paws and shadows that probably had something to do with the Cabal.
Really, twistier than a plate of spaghetti.
Too bad for him, he knew something Nicholas didn't.
"All of this is great, but why dance around the topic?" He borrowed Dumbledore's words. "Why not be candid and make an open request for once?"
The alchemist gave him an inscrutable look. "Fine. Let us talk freely, one wizard to another. This stone in my palm, and an apprenticeship to myself, in return for your research on Death's thaumaturgy."
"You think you can just buy me with promises of endless wealth, or the chance to live for centuries?"
Nicholas snorted contemptuously. "Please do not pretend to be oblivious, Potter. It does not suit you. You know perfectly well what problem it can solve for you. I was watching, I saw the light in your eyes as you realised what it represented."
He was right. There was just one tiny problem.
'I apologise, Nicholas," said Harry slowly. "But I'll have to deny."
"De β denyβ¦." stammered Nicholas, flabbergasted. He quickly composed his expression that left him looking more eager than insulted. "And why is that? What is it that you want, Harry Potter?"
Knowing that everything that would happen in the future would depend on what he did next, Harry resolved to resort to one of the tactics that he would never be comfortable with as it went against virtually everything he personally valued in life.
He forced himself to think like Daphne. Pureblood, conniving, cunning, and above all else, greedy to a fault.
"If you want me to agree to this," he began slowly, not believing what he was about to say. "If you want me to share the secret of my thaumaturgy, it has to be for more than a single transmutation battery."
Nicholas frowned as the conversation turned into a direction he was clearly not fond of. "This transmutation battery can save the life of your beloved, Harry Potter. Without this, you will have to watch her horribly die in less than two years."
"Not if I can find a way out."
"Perhaps you can," Nicholas shot back. "But why take the risk? Last time we met, you rejected the power that the Sunken Vault gave you. You wanted the Vault to be hidden and give away the power you had been rightfully granted. What selfishness makes you want to squirrel away the secrets of your personal craft then? It's not like they will not eventually end up in others' hands. Your Department of Mysteries in particularβ¦."
"What I share with the Department of Mysteries is my private concern, Nicholas," said Harry, looking him in the eye. "But please don't treat me like a child. I might not know the details, but I can well imagine what my craft of using Death as a magical concept could do when combined with transmutation. If you succeed, you might as well crack the code of true immortality, removing the concept of Death itself. I'm sorry Nicholas, but a petty battery with stored juice to last a century is simply not enough."
"You are playing a dangerous game, Harry Potter," said Nicholas, frowning. "If you think you can worm out conditions out of meβ¦."
"I definitely am not," Harry defended. "You are Nicholas Flamel, the Immortal Alchemist. As famous as I am, my name perhaps does not hold a candle to yours, but I represent something you can never have otherwise. The Peverell Family Magic. Providence of the death gods themselves. And if you want me to share that, you better give me something on an equal level.'
"Like what?" asked the man coldly.
"It's like you said," said Harry, making sure not to smile. "Research for research. Honestly, I don't give two fucks about lead to gold transmutation, or the Elixir of Life. I recognize their worth and significance and I acknowledge the efforts you have spent to achieve those goals. But to me, they have little value. Neither do I want to become another Nicholas Flamel and learn to create my own stone. No, if you want my help in researching Death thaumaturgy, then I want to learn materia phase transmutation from you. Show me how to achieve stable transitory states, and how to achieve supercapacitance like you did with the stone."
The laboratory was quiet as the two miracle workers stared at one another fiercely for what could've been hours. The tension was palpable and honestly, Harry half-expected Nicholas Flamel to attack him. He only hoped that Death was enough to undo the effect of the wards around him.
"It seems I misjudged you, Harry Potter," said Nicholas at last. "Back at the Chamber, I wondered why Ananta-Shesha would choose someone so willing to give away power. I had even assumed that your Death thaumaturgy had overwhelmed the runespoor and it followed the protocols and granted its Awareness to the victor. But it seems I was wrong."
His gaze sharpened, and his features turned almost wolfish.
"You have far more talent for adapting yourself in the role of the Warden of the Vault.. I should have understood that someone willing to give up the Sunken Vault's awareness and the power it brought with it, would also be equally thoughtful of the power he wields. Truly, it is my fault for underestimating you like that, Harry Potter. I shall not make that mistake again."
"You can say I learnt that from Albus Dumbledore," said Harry just as calmly. "Exceptionally few people can ignore the lure of power, true power, and yet choose to walk away, choosing to live in the real world rather than traverse into the Abstract. It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live."
"I will keep that in mind," Nicholas stiffly responded. "I really appreciate your time." I believe you still have a meeting with Lady Delacour tomorrow morning. I should have considered your demands and come to a decision until then."
Harry smiled and nodded. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."
With that, he turned around and began walking out of the laboratory, closing the door behind him as he did. He didn't truly believe Nicholas would attack him, then or now. There was no saying if he had overperformed or underperformed, but he had definitely surprised the man. And to do that to someone that had six hundred years of experience on this earth was definitely something.
Really, if Nicholas Flamel did agree to teaching him his craft, the first thing he'd request was the man to help him understand the nature of magical energy, especially the Abstract kind. His eyes could see magic and energy at its purest state, but they told him next to nothing about its properties or how to manipulate it.
Nicholas was right. Using the raw power of the stone, he could keep the blood curse at bay. And perhaps the stone itself would be enough to ensure that Daphne lived a long and fruitful life. But why would he want to do that, when he had an equally abstract and pure source of energy in the form of Summer?
And if he could learn how to harness it and store it while keeping it inert, then perhaps Death too?
It took him back to his very first potions class with Snape.
Stopper death indeed.
A small smile formed on his lips.
Yes, this trip to France was indeed proving to be most interesting.
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