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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 38
🕑 Added 2024-05-20 17:00:03 +0000 UTCChapter 38: The Man, the Myth, The Legend
Monday morning came, and everything seemed wonderful as I woke up.
The sun was shining, the birds singing, and there was a beautiful young woman in the bed next to me.
We hadn’t done anything together last night, simply cuddled and spooned. Neither of us were ready for sex. I still had a few hang-ups about my mental age compared to Delilah’s, even if they were somewhat illogical, and she simply wasn’t ready to go that far yet in our brand-new relationship.
Even then, it had been nice, sleeping next to somebody again. Like having a giant pillow that occasionally stole the blankets.
Smiling to myself, I carefully made sure not to wake her as I slipped out of the covers and padded towards the bathroom.
Before I’d died and ended up reborn, it’d been two years since my last relationship. Still, even almost two decades since then, I still remembered certain rules for living with a significant other.
Don’t hog the bathroom, don’t use up all the hot water, and for the love of God and Merlin, don’t leave the toilet seat up!
‘Funny how the rules all revolve around the bathroom,’ I thought to myself with a snort as I got into the shower.
When I got out a few minutes later, clad in only a towel around my waist, Delilah was awake and watching me from the bed, a grin on her lips.
“Hmm, very nice,” she said as she looked at me, eyes lingering on my abs. I didn’t have many, but the two I did have I took care of. My body in this world also healed faster and gained weight slower as well, so it was easier to make sure I stayed fit.
“Glad you like what you see,” I replied with a chuckle.
“You know, my friends have always been jealous of the fact that I rarely get blemishes, nor gain weight like they do. I take it magic is responsible?” she asked as she got up, and I nodded.
“That’s right. Magic is quite impressive. A wizard can fall a few stories and bounce without a single injury. And even us Squibs find it far easier to stay in shape thanks to the traces of magic we have,” I explained as I got dressed while she sauntered into the bathroom. The only overweight wizard I knew of was Slughorn, and even then, he was more portly than obese.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked as she emerged from the shower a few minutes later, drying her hair.
“We had plans to go to the Arc d’Triumph and walk around it a little bit, then visit Paris’ version of Diagon Alley,” I said.
“That sounds like fun!” she said excitedly.
When we were both dressed, we headed to the door to go eat a quick breakfast courtesy of the hotel, but when I opened the door, I found Harry on the other side, about to knock. Sam was standing behind him, a concerned look on both of their faces.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, seeing the expressions the two wore.
“Harry got himself a visitor this morning, thought you should know,” Sam said.
“Beg pardon?” Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow.
Wordlessly, Harry led us over to his room, and we all went inside. There, we all stopped and stared at what was within.
“Is that an owl?” Delilah asked, blinking in shock at the sight of the elegant bird on the window sill. I didn’t recognize the species, but it was extremely well-groomed. It had black half-circle marks on the sides of its head with black and tawny brown feathers, and watched us stoically.
“So it appears,” I said slowly. “Harry, did somebody send you a letter?”
But who? That was the question. I'd said Gabrielle could do so yesterday, but hadn't expected her to do it so soon.
“Um, yes, that appears to be the case,” Harry said as he nervously held up a piece of parchment.
“Why do you look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?” I asked him. “Who is it from?”
“Here,” he said, handing the letter to me. I took it and began to read, my eyes widening the further I read.
‘Dear Mr. Potter,’ the letter began in elegant cursive. ‘My wife and I would like to extend an invitation for you and your three companions to join us for dinner this evening at six pm sharp at L’Dragon Chic. I know it is short notice, but we would truly love to meet you.
Yours, Nicholas Flamel.’
Below that was an address for a restaurant on Rue Magique, followed by a string of words that wouldn’t make any sense to a normal person, but that I recognized as a magical password.
“Nicholas Flamel?” Sam exclaimed in shock. “You mean the Nicholas Flamel?!”
“And his wife,” I muttered, since that was important.
“They’re real?” Delilah gasped. “And still alive?”
“Yes?” I said slowly. “It’s somewhat well-known in the magical world. He’s famous on both sides, but the wizards and witches know a bit more. Like how he’s not actually dead yet.”
“You forget that I’ve only known about magic since December,” Delilah said, lightly pinching my cheek.
“Right, right, sorry,” I apologized quickly.
“I forgive you,” she said. “Not like you could teach me everything there is to know about magic in just a couple months. Still, some things like ‘we have immortal wizards’ would have been nice.”
“He’s an alchemist, not a wizard,” I corrected.
“Is that really an important distinction?” Delilah asked, and I could tell she was genuinely curious and not just being snarky.
“Kinda, yeah. If he were a wizard, knowledge about him would have been erased along with the other famous mages and mystics during the separation enacted by the Statute of Secrecy,” I explained.
“Then that means he was either a Squib or a normal person!” Harry realized.
“Yes, that would seem to be the case. Although I suppose there’s always another explanation for why the mundane side remembers him when so many others were forgotten,” I said with a nod.
“How’d he live so long, then? Can all magical people live for centuries?” Delilah asked.
“No. Even in the best circumstances a witch or wizard can only live to be about 200 years old. There are some exceptions, like the Flamels or Barry Winkle, but they use some sort of other method to extend their lifespan. In this case, the Flamels used the Philosopher’s Stone to brew the Elixir of Life.”
“Barry who?” Sam asked.
“Some wizard. His seven hundred and seventh-fifth birthday was last year,” I revealed.
“How?” Delilah asked, flabbergasted.
“I don’t know. Pretty sure he’s never told anyone what his secret is,” I replied. “But that’s besides the point. What is the point is that we have an invitation to dinner from the Nicholas Flamel. We’re definitely going.”
I spun to Harry, nearly poking him in the face with a finger as I pointed at him. “Send a reply, if you please, Harry. That’s probably why the owl is still here.”
We all glanced over at the bird in question, and it nodded its head as if agreeing with me. Honestly? It probably was. That was magic for ya!
Harry hastily scribbled out a reply to the Flamels’ letter, and tied it to the owl’s leg. It then took off, flying away into the skies over Paris.
“Guess that changes our plans for today,” Sam said, and Delilah nodded.
“Yes, we’re going to have to get clothes for us to wear. I doubt any of you packed anything for an upper-class locale,” she guessed, the three of us nodding.
“We can still go to Rue Magique,” I suggested. “There’s likely going to be plenty of stores there that will sell dress robes.”
“Dress robes?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, the magical community is a bit… let’s just call it both ‘lazy’ and ‘eccentric’ when it comes to fashion,” I said. Harry nodded at that.
“I saw a witch wearing a stuffed vulture for a hat, once,” he confirmed. “And the headmaster of my school wears plaid patterned robes.”
Delilah wrinkled her nose at that, but nodded in agreement with my idea to turn our trip to the magical side of Paris into a shopping trip.
“Come on, let’s eat first before we go anywhere,” Sam said, reminding us that we’d yet to have breakfast.
Stomachs growling, we descended upon the hotel’s breakfast buffet, and once our need for food was sated, we headed out into downtown Paris, specifically the older side of the city.
“Here we are, this should be the place,” I muttered, looking up at a medieval style building.
Located in the north where Rue Saint Jaques intersected Rue des Fosses Saint-Jaques within the Latin Quarter, the oldest part of Paris, it was an, at one point in the distant past, a Roman bathhouse, built in the first century BC along with the a few other buildings on the street.
However, years passed and the bathhouse became something much more important; the entrance to the Rue Magique, the magical quarters of Paris.
The building itself, an original Roman edifice, was invisible to the mundane people milling around, and Sam needed his special glasses to see it. And even then, Harry had to hold his hand in order to help him overcome the Muggle Repelling wards that ensured nobody without magic could accidentally stumble into it.
Once past the threshold of the building, however, Sam found the wards no longer tried to push against his mind, and he was able to admire the sight in front of him.
“Whoa,” the only non-magical person in their group uttered as he looked at the Roman architecture.
“I never imagined something like this still existed,” Delilah muttered in awe.
“Preservation charms and good old fashioned Roman engineering,” I chuckled, giving the side of the building a fond pat as I walked inside.
There were no lightbulbs or any sort of electricity within. Everything was kept lit by hovering candles that burned with gold and silver flames.
Walking across the tiled floor were many other witches and wizards going about their daily business. The different areas that had once held bathes now contained arches that led to different parts of Magical Paris. Unlike Diagon Alley – or its entrance the Leaky Cauldron – the old bathhouse had a stack of fliers near the entrance that helpfully informed tourists in seven different languages where each one led. It even included a simple map!
“Okay, we want to visit the Hot Bathes if we want to browse the higher end stores, but the Tepid Bathes are connected to the Enchanter’s District, where all the nifty magical items are made and sold. So, they might have some interesting clothes to buy over there,” I said, reading off the pamphlet.
“I came here to see some magic. We’re going to the Enchanter’s District,” Delilah declared, and Sam and Harry weren’t far behind in their agreement.
“Alright then. To the Tepid Bathes!” I declared, snickering a bit as I said that.
Jaws dropped as we walked through the arch that led into the Enchanter’s District of Rue Magique, and even I was impressed, letting out a whistle.
It was like a fantasy bazaar had been set up around a slice of hodge-podge history scooped right out of the past. Roman style buildings stood next to baroque and gothic structures, and bright colors were on display everywhere, advertising this and that.
Magical clothiers sold wares alongside ateliers dedicated to making enchanted household goods, and exotic items from across the world were sold at stalls lining the street. A store that sold books, parchment, and quills showed off the latest self-inking tools, and somebody was advertising free broom wax with the purchase of broom repair kits by having animated brooms dance around with tubs of said wax hanging from the handles. There was even a caricature artist making magical pictures for tourists.
Hundreds of people moved about even this early in the morning, doing their shopping or chatting with friends and neighbors. The place was lively, no doubt about it.
“It’s like a cartoon,” Sam said. “Or a really wacky painting. Made by Salvador Dali.”
“It does give off that sorta feel, doesn’t it?” I agreed. “Alright, let’s find a robe shop. Can’t be too hard to do around here.”
My words proved to be somewhat hubristic. There were indeed plenty of robe shops, but finding one that met Delilah’s exacting standards was somewhat trickier.
We did eventually find one, and we purchased our formal robes. Made of fancy Acromantula silk, to boot! Expensive, especially with the added cleanliness charms, but worth it as they felt really comfy.
“I may have to buy some pajamas made from this stuff,” I murmured as I ran a hand over the robe I was wearing.
“I agree, but stop caressing yourself like some sort of hedonist,” Delilah scolded, slapping my wrist in an effort to stop me from feeling up the dress robes on my body.
“Perhaps I should direct my hands elsewhere, then?” I suggested in a husky tone, and she blushed bright red as my hand brushed against her back.
“Eww!" Harry complained, sticking his tongue out at us, and I laughed.
“One day, Harry. One day, you too shall appreciate girls. Or boys. I don't judge,” I told him. He shook his head and ran off towards Sam, who was standing nearby and watching with amusement.
The day had gone by in a blur of shopping, and we’d spent the entire day in Paris’ magical district. It was a fun experience, but now it was time for a very important dinner.
The four of us were in the foyer of the ancient bathhouse. Near the Cold Baths was a row of seven fireplaces, all connected to the French floo network. We had stopped there earlier to rest and return to the hotel – which to our surprise had a floo access point – and then used them to return.
‘And now we’re going to take the Hot Bath entrance to have some tasty food at a super fancy restaurant. Man, this trip has already turned out to be one to remember,’ I thought as we walked into the building
L’Dragon Chic, or the Fancy Dragon, was a very expensive, up-scale restaurant. That much was obvious as we approached. A pair of golden dragons of a breed I didn’t recognize flanked the entrance. Flames trickled from their nostrils and I had no doubt they were magically animated in some way, and could attack us if we tried anything stupid. The windows were frosted, revealing nothing of the interior save vague shadows of guests, and the name of the restaurant sparkled and flashed above it in the form of small and silent fireworks constantly going off.
Truth be told, all of the shops and storefronts around us had steadily become more elegant and expressive of the wealth their clientele would usually have, and save Delilah, we all felt a bit out of place.
We put up with it, though, as one way or another, we’d be forced to visit such extravagant places in the future. Harry due to his fame, and myself due to my plans for vast amounts of wealth.
As we approached the door, the two dragons turned their heads towards us. While my companions stiffened in surprise, I cleared my throat.
“We’re here to dance with red ducks and sing with blue geese,” I told the dragons, repeating the password from the note. The dragons’ heads turned away from us, and the door swung open, revealing a hallway with a long, red velvet carpet on the other side.
“I’m sure it sounds more elegant in French,” Sam assured me as we walked inside.
“Not gonna take that bet,” I replied, Delilah and Harry giggling behind my back.
Inside the restaurant, there was nothing to see except a door at the end of the corridor. Knocking on the polished wood, a melodic, “Enter,” called out, and we stepped into a private dining room.
There was a single round table in the center of the room, which was quite spacious and had a lot of impressive magical artwork on display. Candles floated in the air, providing light. Six chairs were placed around the table, two of which were already occupied by an old couple.
They looked good, for multi-century old folk. Aside from the pale white skin and hair along with the red eyes which made them look as if they were afflicted by albinism, they seemed as if they were only in their late fifties. Wearing fancy dress robes of their own, they could only be Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle.
“Good evening,” the man of the group said in greeting. Remarkably, he had no accent whatsoever, speaking in fluent English. “We’ve been waiting. Please, take a seat.”
“Hello. Thank you for inviting us, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel,” Harry said politely, bowing his head respectfully to them, something the rest of us mimicked.
“It is no problem, dear child. We are always happy to entertain guests and meet new people,” the woman replied, her voice the same as the one who’d bid us to enter earlier, and also lacking an accent of any kind.
She then clapped her hands, and dinnerware appeared in front of the seats. The plates made of beautiful white porcelain decorated with moving images of stars and clouds in the night sky, while the utensils were made of silver.
We sat down, still a bit nervous at being in their presence, something they noticed.
“Please, be at ease. Browse and order whatever you wish,” Nicholas Flamel urged as several fancy menus appeared on our plates. He then raised a finger and said, “1880 White Branch Rosé, if you please.”
A wineglass full of fragrant pink wine appeared on the table next to him, and he gave a short nod in thanks, taking a sniff of the drink before sipping at it. As for Perenelle Flamel, she ordered an artisanal beer from Germany.
Inspired by the sight, Sam looked through the menu at the drinks, and asked for a sparkling pineapple cider, while Delilah ordered a fizzy white wine spritzer. I just went for water, wanting a clear head this evening, which Harry also selected.
The options for food were even more extensive than the drinks list, and it took us several minutes before deciding on what we wanted.
“Do House Elves make the food here like at Hogwarts?” Harry asked curiously after saying aloud our orders.
“While House Elves do serve in the kitchen and tend to the guests, the actual food is prepared by a variety of chefs. There’s a goblin who does an excellent soup, and the Veela in charge of dessert the last time we were here makes one the best Crème Brulé I’ve ever had,” Perenelle happily explained.
"Now that we've sat down and ordered, why don't we chat?" Nicholas suggested, and I nodded.
"Sounds nice," I said, and we began to speak about this and that. It was stilted and hesitant at first, but we slowly warmed up to the couple as they engaged with us, bringing up different topics regarding everything, from mundane history to magical creations.
“...and that's when Renauld stumbled out of the Vanishing Cabinet with his pants around his ankles!" Perenelle giggled. "He was quite surprised to discover that his mistress' artifact led to a royal suite in Versailles!"
"HA!" Sam laughed loudly. "Oh, that's hilarious!"
"What’s a Vanishing Cabinet?” Delilah inquired as she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.
“They are a pair of charmed cabinets, wardrobes, or dressers that share the same space. Anything you put inside one cabinet, you can take out through the other,” Nicholas explained.
“It also works with people,” I added, mentally telling myself to buy a couple of them for my own use. Having what amounted to magical teleporters could only be a good thing.
‘And I already know where I can get one,’ I mused, thinking of the half of a pair that existed in the Borgin and Burkes pawn shop in Knockturn back home.
“You have the ability to travel unlimited distances in literal seconds by using magical closets?!” Delilah gasped.
“I actually knew the wizard who invented the Vanishing Cabinets. He wanted the ability to change his clothes and have access to his extensive wardrobe whenever and wherever he went. It didn’t go exactly the way he wanted, but the outcome was still quite the achievement,” Nicholas Flamel noted.
“I can’t believe instantaneous travel and a kind of magical pocket space storage was invented because somebody wanted their closet to follow them around,” Sam said in disbelief, Harry nodding in agreement.
“Many a magical invention and spell was created for rather hilarious and petty reasons,” Perenelle admitted. “The witch who invented the Muggle Repelling Charm lived next to a very nosey and gossipy woman and simply wanted her privacy.”
“And don’t forget the time that Polish fellow wanted to steal his brother-in-law’s favorite rocking chair and so invented Apparition to get inside his house,” Nicholas added. Both of them laughed at that while we stared with wide eyes at the couple.
“Wow. Witches and wizards really do lack common sense,” Delilah muttered under her breath.
“I told you,” I whispered back.
Our conversation came to a brief halt as food appeared on our plates. For the hors d’oeuvre, I’d ordered dragon liver pate on thin little crackers. It was delicious!
The next courses came out one by one as we ate. For the soup it was pumpkin, flavored with a few magical spices that gave it a pleasant taste and let me breath orange smoke from my mouth between spoonfuls. Salad consisted of a Greek salad that while plain on the surface gave me a pompadour until it was finished.
My main course was no slouch either. I had no idea Dodo bird – or rather, Diriclaws, as they were known in the magical world – could taste so good roasted with garlic and topped with creamy cheese sauce!
And for dessert, there was a hefty slice of cheese cake topped with a mouthwatering golden berry sauce. It tasted great and made my breath smell nice and fresh afterwards.
“That was amazing,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair slightly. His own meals had been just as magical. Who knew the Giant Squid who lived in the lake near Hogwarts was so tasty? Or at least, his kin were, if the way Harry had enjoyed the kraken calamari was any indication.
In fact, all of us had had a good meal. I knew just by looking that Delilah would never be able to look at high society mundane food the same way, and that Sam was insanely jealous of the talents of the chefs here, as well as determined to find a way to learn how they’d done it.
“Would you care to join us for a night cap back at our place?” Perenelle offered, and Harry sat up in surprise.
“Can we?” he asked excitedly, glancing over at me, and I looked at the others. Sam and Delilah both seemed interested as well, so I nodded in agreement.
“Wonderful! I do so love having guests,” Perenelle said happily.
Nicholas nodded, then clapped his hands. A sheet of parchment appeared in front of him, containing the bill for the meal, and I choked as I caught a glimpse of some of the numbers on there.
‘No wonder they didn’t show the prices on the menu!’ I thought in shock. They’d give somebody a heart attack!
The famous alchemist didn’t even blink at the outrageous cost, and just pressed one of his rings against the bottom of the parchment, leaving a mark. I assumed it was like the keys Gringotts used, able to leave a magical imprint behind that identified which vaults would be used for payment.
Once he was done, the bill vanished, and Nicholas stood up, offering his wife a hand which she took, rising from her seat gracefully.
“Come along, we have a private floo we can take to return to our home,” he said as he and his wife linked arms, and we nodded and rose as well.
We followed them out of the door, but to our surprise, instead of the long hallway he’d come in through, it instead now led to a cozy parlor chamber, perfect for tea or sitting around and drinking and smoking. The furnishings were as high-class as the rest of the restaurant had been, and a massive fireplace dominated the far wall.
“Don’t worry about saying any passwords, simply walk on through. The floo here leads directly to our home, and nowhere else, after all,” Nicholas assured us as emerald green flames sprang to life when he approached the fireplace.
“How did you manage to get a direct link to your home set up in here?” Sam asked curiously, knowing a little bit about how this method of magical transportation worked thanks to me.
“Oh, we own the place, so it was quite easy to include a ‘secret entrance’ when we built it,” Perenelle tittered as she stepped into the greenish blaze, causing Sam to stumble at the answer.
“I see,” he said.
We followed behind the elderly couple, and I chuckled as my friends experienced the effects of floo travel for the first time.
Being thrown about like you were riding a roller coaster while standing up is not very fun, and when we were all spat out of the fireplace I only laughed a little bit at the sight of them woozily staggering to their feet.
“Heh, sorry about that,” I chuckled.
“You could have warned us!” Delilah huffed, slapping my shoulder.
“Probably, but this was more fun,” I admitted, snickering to myself. “Now, let’s see what this place…”
I trailed off as I turned to take in the Flamel’s house, and stared in disbelief.
The interior of the building we’d stumbled into felt like we’d been tossed backwards into the Middle Ages. The roof was thatched, the floor made of sod, and there was only one other room, which was behind a door. A cauldron bubbled in one corner and it looked like it was being used for food rather than potions as I’d normally expected in a magical household.
And it was a magical home, there was no doubt about it. Because despite the primitive appearance it was spotless, and where there should have been drafts or evidence of poor craftsmanship, there were none. The furniture was handcrafted, same as the tools and literally everything else in the house, but they showed signs of having been repaired and preserved with magic.
“Coffee? Or perhaps some tea?” Perenelle offered, a tiny smile on her face as she looked at our dropped jaws as we took in her home.
Nicholas, however, didn’t bother holding back and chortled out loud as he took in our shocked expressions.
“I honestly expected… more,” I admitted, Harry nodding his head.
“We could live in a mansion, or a penthouse, or a literal castle. I actually own several of each, you know?” Nicholas said, sinking into a rocking chair that looked as old as he was. “But the simpler things in life are so much better, in my opinion.”
He gestured for us to sit at the table in the center of the room, and we did so, gingerly sinking into chairs that had probably seen more history than any of us combined.
“This is our original home, you know? The one Pear and I built after we married, and before I invented the Philosopher’s Stone,” Nicholas revealed once we’d all sat down. Perenelle brought out an old tea kettle, its bottom lined with runes, and set down some cups that were just as plain as the rest of the house. She then poured tea into them, and took two of the cups.
“Even after all these years, and all the wealth and fame we’ve acquired… this is where we belong,” Perenelle said, walking over to her husband, and passing him one of the cups of tea. Afterwards, she took one of his hands and squeezed it lovingly. He squeezed back, and they shared a look of true affection with each other, before turning their attention back to the four of us.
“Now, why don’t we chat? What would you like to talk about?” Nicholas asked. “I’m sure you’re dying to ask some question.”
“Is it true you’re immortal?” Sam asked.
“I am not. Nothing, not even the mighty phoenixes, are eternal. We are simply a long-lived couple,” Nicholas replied.
“Then, are you a Squib?” Delilah asked.
“We both are,” Perenelle confirmed.
“But then, how did you not get, you know, forgotten? How come Muggles remember your name and even the fact you made the Philosopher’s Stone?” Harry wondered. It had been a question that had bothered him – and Hermione – for a while, now. Ever since they’d learned about the legendary man and his fame in both worlds, in fact.
“The ritual used to enact the Statute of Secrecy only affected magical folk and their creations, history, and mentions in books. As Squibs, my wife and I were overlooked. Something that the ICW didn’t realize for close to a century afterwards. By then it was too late,” Nicholas revealed, snorting in amused disgust at the incompetence of the magical version of the UN.
“Ha! I knew it,” I uttered, feeling vindicated one of my hypotheses about that had been proven right.
“I can’t believe I’m sitting and talking with the man who made the Philosopher’s Stone!” Delilah squealed excitedly, her happiness bursting out and I grinned at her childish delight. Despite how she tried to act, I’d come to learn she was an avid lover of fantasy, just as I and Sam were, and she’d even joined us for a few games of Dungeons and Dragons. She so rarely showed off this side of her that it was refreshing to see.
“Ah, yes. The stone. I created it centuries ago, and it remains to this day my crowning achievement,” Nicholas said softly, thinking back on long gone days.
Harry began to fidget nervously, and I began to suspect why that was. Given the topic, it was kinda obvious.
“I’m really sorry about your stone, sir,” he said softly. He’d told Sam, Delilah, and myself what’d happened at Hogwarts earlier in the day while shopping, and my friends had been appropriately disturbed by what they’d heard.
Though I was proud of Harry for both sticking it to Dumbledore by not investigating the 3rd Floor Corridor, but also going to a teacher. That he’d run into Voldemort even after all that was just plain bad luck.
I hoped. I really wasn’t looking forward to this being some sort of self-correction timeline bullshit.
“It is fine. My wife and I have long ago made our peace with what it means to give up its power,” Nicholas said, giving Harry a reassuring smile. “You are not to blame for its loss, young Harry. That fault lies with the one who foolishly thought he could try and steal it. The Philosopher’s Stone is far beyond anyone’s reach, now.”
“Err, about that,” the Boy-Who-Lived muttered. He then took out a small, glossy red stone that fit neatly into the palm of his hand from a pocket on his dress robes, and held it out to the ancient couple.
“I think this is yours, sir, ma’am,” Harry said without an ounce of hesitation.
Both Flamels, as well as Sam, Delilah, and I, stared at Harry for a few seconds, utterly flabbergasted.
“You… how… what?” I managed to sputter out after a moment. Even with my meta-knowledge, this still blindsided me. I’d have thought the stone had remained in the mirror, given the way the encounter with Voldemort and Quirrel had gone.
“I completely forget that I had this,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I first saw it in a mirror that Quirrelmort was carrying, and then I found it in my pocket afterwards. It was weird, but I’ve had weird stuff happen to me at Hogwarts, so I just… forgot about it. I’m sorry it took me so long to return it.”
“That mirror was the Mirror of Erised… it shows you your heart’s greatest desire, but it is also an ancient and cursed vault of treasure. Only somebody who knows of what lies within, but doesn’t desire what the mirror hides, can acquire something from its depths,” Nicholas Flamel revealed, taking the stone from Harry in awe and examining it closely.
He then immediately handed it back, Harry blinking in surprise. He wasn’t alone. My friends and I all stared in astonishment at what had just happened.
“I cannot take it. It is yours. You’ve earned it,” Nicholas said softly, his wife nodding in agreement.
“Anyone who knows what the stone is, but would do nothing with it, is truly somebody worthy of being it’s guardian,” Perenelle said fondly, giving Harry a motherly smile.
Harry nodded bashfully, still not used to being praised (Something I was damn well going to make sure he got over by heaping all the praise he deserved onto him!) and tucked the most valuable piece of alchemy back into a pocket.
“Now, I don’t mean to ruin the mood or be rude or intrusive with a question of my own, but if I may ask, how long have you lot been incorrectly using Occlumency?” Nicholas asked, and I tensed up.
What did he just say?!
Comments
Darkarma
Let me guess Nicholas invented occlumency as well. Fun chapter. Also can't wait for Harry to run into Gabrielle again, that was just hillarious.
Catherine Colin
Omg i love Nick
Catherine Colin
Omg excited to read this❤️
