Hey! I must admit that what was said in the HP lore about the Flamels, the stone, and the elixir of life does not amaze me. In this story, you will find mostly the products of my own imagination. All that agrees with the lore is that Nicolas Flamel created the Philosopher's Stone (producing gold and the elixir of life). Albus Dumbledore worked with Flamel on alchemy. Nicolas has a wife, Perenelle.

And that's it. The rest I disregard and make according to my own imagination, slightly supported by the story of the historical Nicolas Flamel. Slightly.

So… yeah. I just wanted to make that clear so you won't picture the Fantastic Beasts Flamel, who looks like he's about to fall apart ;) Mostly because the elixir of life is supposed to be the panacea. To cure everything. In my world, that includes cell regeneration.

In which we meet Perenelle and Nicolas Flamel, Harry is trying to eavesdrop, and then the Mabon starts.

Enjoy!
A_A

Perenelle Flamel was an open and sentimental person. That made her only half-perfect for such a long life. She was enthusiastic about travels, new experiences, new people, and new everything, always welcoming it with her arms wide open. Simultaneously, she got easily attached and missed everything and everyone she lost terribly, living through the mourning periods with a severity that never became lighter. That's why when Nicolas approached her one evening with a letter and informed her that one of their old friends had reached out, she immediately started preparations for the travel.

Rowena! They got to know her as a very old witch, but she was quite certain that if the Philosopher's Stone worked successfully, they would meet again in the future. And here she was! Perenelle was zealous to meet her! After all, there was so much to hear and so much to say!

They chose to spend Mea'n Fo'mhair together. After all, there were so few people that engaged in the appropriate celebrations, not to mention in the same way as it was done centuries ago. Oh, how Perenelle missed the moods of the traditional celebrations! The fires, the dances, the songs, and most of all, magic! She never in her life felt more engrossed in magic than during Beltane of 1697! The daughter born after became the child she was most proud of.

Nicolas believed she was overly excited and only hummed at her as she packed, talked, and sang the songs long forgotten. But she knew that he was also eager to meet the long-lost friend and the people she spoke of, the three of her friends.

On the day of the travel, Perenelle and Nicolas left their stead in Vaucluse. Two elegant suitcases fitted to the trunk of an elegant car, they settled inside for a pleasant ride. Of course, it was pleasant only after they managed to choose the appropriate road (Perenelle insisted on driving through Paris, while Nicolas was sternly against it, knowing all too well that 'through Paris' meant driving through at least two art galleries and one cafe). But finally, Nicolas set up the brand new GPS ('the very first European car with built-in GPS navigation, Perenelle!'), they turned on the radio, and Perenelle pressed the gas.

Of course, driving from their home to the address given to them by Rowena would take a dozen or so hours if they'd drive a not-enchanted car. With the enchanted car, they expected a much shorter time, although they both were excited to drive through the Channel Tunnel for the very first time. It wasn't easy to get a first-time experience while you're reaching 700 years old, but in the recent century, Muggles were a reliable provider.

Perenelle was beyond excited about boarding a train while in the car and a little disappointed to see nothing besides the interior of the train. She was torn between spending a significantly shorter time travelling through the Channel Tunnel and taking a longer trip on a ferry, where she could enjoy the fresh air and the view. Nicolas was adamant about reading no matter the way they'd take it. They arrived at Little Hangleton an hour before noon and stopped before the sad, old British manor. They stood out—even with their brand-new car—but especially Perenelle with her short hairdo and clothes straight from the latest fashion week in Milan. While Rowena greeted them in the doorway, she only increased the contrast with her medieval style.

And the discrepancies didn't lessen when Perenelle rushed to hug and kiss the reluctant Rowena.

"Oh, just look at you! Si jeune et belle! Just look at her, Nicolas, and to think that when we last saw her there she looked like a very dignified raisin!" Perenelle laughed melodiously.

"You haven't aged a day," Rowena replied, bowing her head slightly towards Nicolas. Neither of you did. And I so much appreciate you sparing the time to aid me."

"No trouble, no trouble at all. Time is what we have in excess," Perenelle assured her. "Now, let's get in, shall we? Don't just stand there, Nicolas, take our luggage inside. I'm curious about the insides of this place. I do appreciate antiques in any form, even if they are not well-preserved."

"But nothing could even attempt to mimic yourself," Rowena replied… kindly, gesturing her to enter first. "How was your journey?"

"Fascinating!" Nicolas exclaimed eagerly, moving inside with Rowena, two modern and colourful suitcases dutily rolling behind him and extending their wheels to walk up the stairs. "We've been led astray by one triumph of muggle technology, and bored by the other, after short amazement and excitement. Would you guess, all those years ago, that muggles would progress their science to that extent? I must show you their navigation system. You'll be as excited as I am."

"I have no doubts," she assured. "Would you like to see your room or meet the others first?"

"I'd love to refresh myself a little," Perenelle decided, "Powder my nose. Won't you agree, Nicolas?"

"Powdering my nose sounds just about perfect," the man replied lightly.

Perenelle looked around with curiosity, noticing the withered splendour of British Muggle elites without surprise. After all, what was there to expect after the exterior? She also noticed a pair of curious eyes, glancing at them through the railing, and wiggled her fingers at the boy. She wondered whether that was a poor creature but wondered briefly because just in a moment, Rowena invited them to their current room, and Perenelle busied herself with unpacking and adding a little bit of colour to the interior.

Nicolas didn't comment, only sat in one of the armchairs, waiting for his wife to get ready. He had no illusions about how long it would take and took the book out of the depths of his bottomless pockets.

Harry was immensely curious about the Flamels. He knew they were expected around noon and that they wouldn't come by any magical means. As such, he glued himself to the windows of the room previously occupied by Ron, which was overlooking the gates.

The long wait paid off completely.

They came by a muggle car, which was a surprise in itself. But the car was brand new and looked like Uncle Vernon's wet dream. Harry giggled, thinking that and moved even closer as the doors opened. The man that got outside was elegant, dressed in black, starting from the shiny shoes, through casual suit pants, and a well-fitted jacket under which he wore not a shirt, but some sort of t-shirt. His beard wasn't too long and carefully trimmed. Harry couldn't see his face well, no matter whether he looked through his glasses or without them (it usually made little difference). But he saw clearly that his fair hair was short and eyebrows prominent over the eyes. He opened the door from the passenger's side, and the woman who got out looked like a person from Aunt Petunia's magazines. She wore some fancy clothes, including shoes that reached over her knee and had heels so high that Harry wondered how it was possible to walk wearing something like this. Whatever dress she wore underneath the cloak – only a hem of it was visible, and it didn't really catch the eye next to the said cape. She surprised Harry by walking all the way to the doors without so much as a stumble.

As they walked into the house, Harry picked up Pretzel and rushed towards the stairs.

"It was good in the sun," the little snake complained.

Harry put him into the inside pocket of his robe, where Pretzel usually felt the most comfortable.

"Quiet now," he hissed, observing the people coming up the stairs and a pair of suitcases climbing behind them. Now, he could see Flamels much better, although still not perfectly. He had pleasant features and smiled, looking either at Rowena or his wife. Perenelle talked but looked around. Her face had a prominent nose and a sharp chin. When she waved at Harry, he raised his hand in a silent and equally discreet greeting. Neither Nicolas nor Rowena noticed him, and as soon as the Flamels disappeared in their room, Rowena entered Tom's study. Harry sat more comfortably and waited.

He didn't mind that nothing happened during the next half an hour until his stomach grumbled. Reminded about food, Harry went to the kitchen and halfway down, forgot about the Flamels and the plans to overhear their meeting with the founders. He felt like eating treacle tart.

The introductions and casual conversations took place during a light lunch prepared by Barty with the addition of Harry's treacle tart. Augusta insisted on the proper order of things, so they ate in the dining room. After lunch, Barty was delegated to care for Harry and the dinner (Harry protested but quickly got distracted when Salazar suggested he should care for Nagini in the meantime).

The founders (save Godric, who had to remain in Hogwarts), Flamels, Augusta, and Voldemort, retreated to the living room for a long discussion. The founders presented the important things about the current situation, Augusta added a few words about the current political situation, and on a lighter note, Perenelle and Nicolas introduced a couple of interesting facts about modern muggle society. The more they said, the lower the jaws dropped. Equally, those who were resurrected this summer, as those who – technically – lived through the majority of intense change.

Barty and Harry joined them for dinner, but – to the dissatisfaction of both – they were expected to wash the dishes and wait to be called (Harry tried to protest but was distracted by Godric's arrival and a load of Tuesday's homework).

Barty seemed unhappy about being excluded from the library gathering but did exactly what Voldemort told him: he washed the dishes and sat with Harry to talk about Bowtruckles.

Meanwhile, in the library, among the rows of freshly dusted and arranged books, Rowena explained the matter of enchantments placed on Harry, while Voldemort was more than happy to supply it by his findings every time he had at least the smallest detail added.

"Yes, it seems like the elixir of life is something that could strengthen the boy and his protection against foreign magic," Nicolas judged. "But considering what you said, I doubt that the effects will last long enough for regular dosing. I'd estimate once every fortnight or even more often if necessary. With access to your laboratory, I will provide you with doses for a couple of months, and if it isn't enough, you should just contact me ahead of time. I just don't understand why you haven't consulted Severus Snape. He certainly knows at least half a dozen potions that could help. Not as successfully, of course, but certainly enough to lessen the symptoms."

Voldemort allowed all of the triumph to show on his face.

"Just why haven't we thought about that…" he said, giving Salazar a pointed look.

"Don't give me that attitude, son," Salazar replied with a sharp undertone. "It's a matter of his split allegiance. We cannot be certain how comfortable he is in Dumbledore's pocket, and informing Dumbledore of our predicament is the least suitable."

"Naturally," Nicolas nodded. "Yet, there are oaths you could use to assure his silence and the memory charm for if he's a hopeless case."

"He already took appropriate oaths," Voldemort said.

"He had betrayed you," countered Salazar.

"Yet, he was operating within his rights," Voldemort replied evenly but with a definite note to the statement. "And I have means at my disposal to bring him to order and ensure his fidelity."

There was a moment of silence in which Salazar considered the issue, tapping his finger on the armrest of his chair.

"I will consider this," he decided, "Do not act prior to the end of this discussion."

This was as much of the win as Voldemort could get at the time, so he leaned back in his chair and let the topic rest.

From this part forward, the conversation progressed mostly in the area of deliberations about the recreation of Dumbledore's original enchantments. The question remained: whether it was necessary to produce an original counter ritual to Dumbledore's invention, or was there a simpler way of removing his influence from Harry.

On the one hand, it was possible that removing the famous scar would devoid the enchantments of the anchor, simultaneously making it possible to remove. On the other hand, every test that both Rowena and Voldemort conducted indicated that there was a very slim chance of doing so, as the scar was not limited to the physical body. Nicolas argued that if it were possible, it would need to include externally applied salve, internally consumed potion, and a proper spiritual and mental intervention.

On the other hand, the construction of the appropriate counter ritual would be more complicated but significantly more reliable, and they needed the cooperation of someone specializing in rituals. Voldemort, based on his knowledge of the matter, believed that a salve would be used in the ritual as well, although one that may already exist.

Both Flamels and Voldemort believed that securing Severus Snape's help would be the most beneficial for their efforts, and they had Augusta's support. But Salazar needed his time to think about it.

"What about this ritualist of yours? Nott, yes?" Helga asked. "Have you talked with him?"

"Last week," Voldemort nodded. "They will join us tomorrow, as I offered them an occasion to spend the holiday with the youngest Nott."

"A very promising boy," Rowena said, "He's one of mine."

"And you are sure about their loyalties?" Salazar asked, and it wasn't the first time he did so in this context.

"Yes, absolutely," Voldemort replied nonetheless.

"I invited Ronald," Godric said, "Did you know he never celebrated any traditional holiday?"

"Excuse me?" Salazar asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why would you do that?"

"He's a nice kid, and he was curious," Godric shrugged.

"He's a Weasley! And simultaneously a student for which I have high hopes. If you'll spoil this for me, Godric, I swear I'll meddle in Draco Malfoy."

"He'll come as well," Godric grinned, entirely unmoved. It was his attitude that granted Voldemort certainty in treating most of Salazar's doubts as bordering paranoia. Important and never easily dismissed, yet dismissable.

"That'll be a wonderful holiday," Perenelle said, clasping her hands together. "So many people, I really missed those."

"And you've never thought about reinstating them yourself?" Augusta asked pleasantly.

"I did. I did, and I tried," Perenelle sighed heavily, "But the number of interested wizards and witches decreased with time, and after Gellert Grindelwald…" she waved her hand. "He was a huge supporter of old ways but also magic supremacy, and he worked violently towards the breaking of the statue of secrecy. It quickly became a popular opinion that only dark wizards and witches practice rituals, and I'm not only talking about ritualistic celebrations. Rituals as a separate class were removed from the curriculum of every school that didn't want to be perceived as leaning towards the dark side. And honestly, only Durmstrang has a decent curse on the subject at this point. Grindelwald divided the magical world. Of course, not single handedly. His predecessors lay a solid ground. And you," she looked at Voldemort. "Added your own impact to the division. We can be only happy that you haven't reached so far beyond England as Gellert reached outside of German territories…"

"Oh, he had a wide support just right," Nicolas said, "How far were you from pushing to action those who supported you? I estimated six to twelve months at the time."

"A little longer," Voldemort admitted, "I wanted to stabilise the situation in Great Britain and take over Ireland before moving to continental Europe."

"So, no longer than two years?"

"No longer," Voldemort nodded.

Perenelle sighed under the pointed look of her husband.

"All right, all right. You win," she said, "I'll pay you off at home. And don't get so cocky. I was correct about the Ireland."

"Please, excuse us. We made a habit of betting on some more interesting events if only we differ in opinion," Nicolas explained. "Perenelle was of the opinion that you won't move out of the Isles in a shorter time than three years."

As much as Voldemort looked offended by such an estimation (even if miscalculated by only a year or so), and Augusta snorted, Godric found it very amusing, and Helga wanted to know what gave them the idea for such an interesting pastime.

The conversation got more and more relaxed, and – finally – they decided to retire for the night. Augusta flooded to her manor while Salazar, Helga and Rowena returned to Hogwarts. Godric remained for the night, as he recently did. He wouldn't trust Tommy, Harry, and Barty to appropriately handle their gusts in current circumstances.

When Severus entered the classroom on a Wednesday morning to the group of first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, Gryffindor sat at the very end. Blank expression, serious gaze and a single nod towards Severus. Again, he remained silent throughout the two periods and then left without a word.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Severus closed his eyes and let a long sigh through his nose, counting backwards from ten. It didn't help. Antsy feelings stuck to his brain through the rest of the day. He begin repeating like a mantra - he would not mind the antics of Gryffindors. Any Gryffindors. Even the Gryffindor. Lying in bed he tightened his occlumency, fortifying his mind against growing dread for tomorrow's lessons, and as he was sure he would be there, his unwanted visitor. It was just another way the universe was giving him its regards.

Salazar wished to celebrate Mea'n Fo'mhair in the Druidhean Forrest, as was customary. Alas, it was impossible. What's more, it was difficult to take the children out of the castle without raising too much suspicion. In the past, it would be unthinkable for Salazar to allow a regular school day on any holiday. But at this time, celebrating them bordered on illegal. So everything had to be done carefully.

They had five children to take out of the castle: Neville and Hermione, of course, but also Ronald, Nott and Malfoy. All had to be taken out of Hogwarts after their last class, but at least an hour before sunset. It was bad luck that Neville and Ronald had astronomy at Midnight, but Godric promised to speak to Aurora Sinistra about it, and Salazar had full confidence in his ability to come up with an excuse good enough to pass with a little bit of charm.

Just after Gryffindors finished their defence lesson, Godric took Neville to Riddle Manor, where he had to transport everybody to Badgers Keep. Half an hour later - Rovena left with Hermione. Helga evacuated after them in the pre-diner commotion. Salazar decided that it would be best if all three boys he intended to take alone were seen during the dinner. It would also be suspicious if he wouldn't be there. After all, until that day, he was absent only for two meals, and it was the day before. In contrast to Godric, who often skipped breakfasts or dinners, Rowena, who was too engrossed by her research to remember about meals, and Helga, who was rather visible in corridors than during meals, since 'seeing Dumbledore made her hands ache for the wand'.

Salazar wasn't happy to leave so late, so he instructed all three boys to be promptly at the place he chose. Ronald was about to come and leave early, while two Ravenclaw boys were scheduled to leave a few minutes after Salazar before the main dinner rush came to an end.

This way, nobody should pay particular attention to their disappearance. Although Salazar had no idea what he'd do during the next holiday if his friends or if the children invited even more Hogwarts students…

Ronald waited quite humbly outside of the Hogwarts' gates. He acted humble, even apologetic, since Rowena removed the compulsions, and Salazar wasn't happy with this development.

"Godric tells me you never participated in Mea'n Fo'mhair, or Mabon, as it's known now," he initiated the conversation after the exchange of greetings.

"No, sir," Ronald replied meekly. That was one of the reasons Salazar wasn't convinced that inviting him at this moment was a good idea. But Godric acted on instinct, and that usually yielded surprisingly good results. So maybe he was right this time as well. Hopefully.

"I wonder how you will like it," Salazar said softly, and the boy nodded. It was impossible; he was only so feisty because of his compulsions. "Have you given any thought to the chess club?"

Salazar enquired and noticed surprise in the boy's expression as if the conversation was no longer valid.

"Well… a little. Yes," Ron admitted cautiously. "And to the common space as well."

Salazar replied with an approving nod.

"Tell me about it," he requested.

"Um… I wandered a bit around the castle recently, so… there are plenty of empty classrooms. Some are too… I don't know… It's too classroomy for anything, but there are others which would work just fine for some clubs, like the chess club, or for just rooms to hang on. And I was thinking that if it would depend on me, I'd just throw out the junk that's lying there and put in sofas and so on. Just, you know, to hang. But then I thought that it would be funny to say, 'We'll meet in the room two doors down the painting of a hippopotamus' or 'I don't like the one, how about the room in the corridor with the painting of monks, 'those happy monks? With wine', no, the sinister monks', and then 'oy, dude, that's the same room'," Ron was saying, making voices, "So I thought that it would be good to make something different in each room. So like… I don't know… One with chess, the other for gobstones, and to one we could move something like… this painting who turns people into stone if they look into the eyes of the Gorgon or one with armours, and make one super girlish, like pink and stuff, or… you know. Make them differ somehow," Ronald suddenly broke off, as if embarrassed with everything he just said, and then added unexpectedly, "I'm sorry for the way I acted. I didn't mean to… to insult Slytherin so much."

"I know," Slytherin replied easily and shortly squeezed Ronald's arm before continuing on the previous subject, "I must admit that your idea of making every room distinguished in a specific way would make things easier for students and teachers alike. I approve of this concept. And it so happens that Hogwarts will need more… 'classroomy' classrooms," Salazar smiled slightly at the boy. "I would appreciate it if you'd spend some of your time making a list of both types of rooms."

"Sure, sir. So… That would mean that we could make those common common rooms?"

"I believe it does," Salazar inclined his head, "Ah, and that would be Mr Nott and Malfoy. I was starting to wonder what keeps them."

Ronald's good mood soured a little on the sight, and the boy visibly glared at two ex-Slytherins.

"You may not like them, but they don't necessarily need to know that, Ronald," Salazar scolded him gently.

Both Ravenclaws greeted them politely, although Malfoy looked at Ronald with visible distaste, which Salazar ignored. After all, the Malfoy boy had a Gryffindor streak in him when it came to emotions. It was good that Godric took him under his wing. Salazar would probably suffer trying to make anything out of this boy.

Salazar walked fast to reach the borders of Hogwarts, eager to already reach Badgers Keep.

"Take my arm, Ronald," he instructed. I'll accompany you to our destination. You'll wait where I leave you, as I'll return for Mr Malfoy and Nott."

Of course, they could take a Portkey, but Salazar swore to himself that he would never use this means of transportation in the company until he mastered the landing alone. Therefore, he apparated three times, once with each boy.

And every time, he was amused by the uncertain looks on the faces of boys standing in the middle of the deserted moors soon before sunset.

"Follow me," he commanded, leading them down the narrow path. It wasn't long before they crossed the border of protective wards surrounding Badgers Keep. Along with the buildings came the sound of conversations, laughter, and the rich smells of food. The guest list was quite extensive as for the first celebration they managed to organise.

Salazar stopped the boys before coming into the view of others.

"Now," he said. "Whatever happens inside these wards, stays inside these wards. I don't want to hear any of you bragging about meeting Nicolas Flamel or any other person you may encounter here. You may talk about what happens here only with those present. Is that understood?"

He received three solemn "Yes, sir," although individual reactions differed. Nott looked like he wasn't at all surprised or moved, although his eyes grew a little and sparkled. Malfoy visibly perked up and straightened up, proud of the inclusion. While Ronald… Ronald gaped, and Salazar sighed internally at the amount of work lying ahead.

"Secondly," he said, "It is not my concern and who, why, and how much you dislike. This celebration will not be honoured by childish bickering. Do we understand each other?"

This time, the three, "Yes, sir," were accompanied by a pointed look of Malfoy towards Ronald. But Ronald, although squirming a little, didn't even look at the other boy. Salazar couldn't be more happy.

"Run along, then. Find the rest of the children and ask for explanations," he instructed, but with his eyes, he stopped Ronald behind. He waited a moment for Malfoy and Nott to walk further into the Keep and said quietly, "I know that you've been informed of Harry's situation. He received the first dose of treatment today, and he should behave correctly. However, I'd like you to remember that and be mindful to help and contain the situation if necessary. That is not public knowledge, and we wouldn't like the news to spread around. Even if the people present are trusted."

"I will," Ronald promised, and he looked properly elated about his little mission—an important one, nonetheless.

They moved forward together, and Salazar looked around at the gathered people. It was the occasion they used to expand their social net, although still carefully. Every person present was selected with consideration. For Samhain, Salazar planned further development, although that was still too far removed in an uncertain situation, so he threaded the plans carefully.

Celebrating Mea'n Fo'mhair was about balance, and as such, it happened equally before and after the sunrise (at least it should; it didn't for Salazar). Therefore, they were already circling between tables, eating, drinking, and giving in to leisure and relaxation, as they should. And there were enough guests to split into smaller groups.

In one, reigned Augusta Longbottom, surrounded by people she knew for decades. They sat outside, yes, but each occupied a very comfortable armchair conjured as an alternative for wooden benches (now moved aside). There was an old and dried up Griselda Merchbanks, not very powerful in terms of magic, but a well-connected, thoroughly educated and wise woman, who was friends not only with Augusta but with her mother before that. Not surprisingly, Augusta's first cousin, Gareth Greengrass, sat just next to them, already a little red on the face and smiling very widely. Apparently, he was very attached to the tradition of consuming liquor. Besides them were also Violetta and Druella Black, now calling closer Draco Malfoy (who didn't look very happy about their presence).

The group was connected on one side by Amelia Bones and on the other by Cantankerous Nott. Amelia Bones was engrossed in discussion in a feminine circle, including Helga, Hermione, and Perenelle. While Cantankerous explained something to Rowena with passion but without haste. To whatever Cantankerous was speaking, Barty was nodding eagerly, and Tom looked at Rowena with a clear 'I told you so.'

The man next to them was clearly Cantankerous' son – Tiberius. Salazar hadn't had a chance to meet him yet, but the genes were apparently strong in the family: they were all thin, tall, rigid in their body posture, and had equally dark eyes and hair, contrasting with fairly pale skin. The youngest spawn of the family, Theodore, had already approached his father and great-grandfather. The way he stood before them allowed Salazar to judge the family dynamics as particularly strict quickly.

Finally, a little to the side stood a group gathered around the resident hippogriff, Witherwings. The hippogriff waited impatiently, eyeing the stack of ferrets on the ground. Nicolas Flamel sent it flying high into the sky. The hippogriff took flight and, in seconds, caught the snack. The group on the ground cheered. The group included Godric, Neville, Sirius, and Harry. Ron practically darted towards them as soon as he caught their sight. Salazar followed him at a significantly calmer pace.