Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to October, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
"What if I say no?" I asked instantly. He tilted his head at me.
"I would wonder what I have asked of you to get such an answer."
"Are we going to keep dancing around it? Telling me about the Stone, making me kill Russo when you so clearly could have done it yourself, and telling me all this now. You want me to be your apprentice," I said.
"And like I said, I wonder what I would have asked to get such an answer. Because the question I am asking only has one answer, Mr. Potter," he said, sounding so confident that part of me wanted to refuse him just because.
"No one ever says no to becoming an apprentice to the legendary Nicholas Flamel?" I asked with my most acerbic tone, trying to fit as much sarcasm into my voice as I could.
"No. No one ever does. That is because no matter how special, all my apprentices but one have come to me, rather than the other way around."
"And I should feel special because I am the second?"
"You should feel special because I am even speaking to you in the first place. Mr. Potter, I don't think you can even begin to understand just who and what I am. My wife and I have lived for millennia. We saw the fall of Rome as well as its peak. We saw the formation of Britain, the discovery of the Americas, the Dark Continent, everything. We have forgotten more about magic than you will ever be able to even dream of learning. With the knowledge at my fingertips, I could solve every problem that has ever plagued your fledgling existence. I am Nicholas Flamel. The Immortal. I was here at the birth, and I will be here after the death. To refuse to learn at my feet would be foolishness of the highest order. Men ten times your better have killed, and will kill, for the whisper of a chance at the offer you so carelessly question," he said, and while I felt he was doing quite a bit of grandstanding, who was I to judge? It wasn't like I was well known for my humility.
"Fair enough. Well, I didn't say no. I just asked what would happen if I did," I said, trying to diffuse some of the tension.
"Indeed," he said, and then the tome in his lap closed itself before flying into a trunk off to the side.
"You should be packing, Nicholas. Must I remind you of the smallest things a dozen times—" I heard her voice before I saw her as her steps sounded down the hallway. Nicholas, for his part, just winked at me before she rounded the corner and I got a good look at her. A damn good look. I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands for good measure.
"Why didn't you mention that we had company?" I heard her voice say next, not sounding all that bothered, at least.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Flamel," I said, eyes still covered.
"Oh, worry not, my boy. It's nothing all that special. You can open your eyes," she said, and I did so, only to see that she was still naked.
"Uhh, you're still…" I tried to say while averting my eyes very pointedly.
"I am aware. It's just a body, boy. Must the British be so prudish?"
"Remember how red Albus got the first time he saw you gardening?" Nicholas asked, and then the pair of them began laughing. Okay then, Perenelle Flamel is some sort of nudist, I noted down for later and left it at that.
"Like I could ever forget. I don't think he could look me in the eyes for a whole year," she said.
"Let's hope Harry here is not so affected."
"I won't be. Pardon my reaction, Mrs. Flamel. I was just a bit shocked, is all," I said, looking over and pointedly meeting her eyes. Partly to make it clear that I was no Dumbledore, and mostly because I doubted it would be all too polite to look anywhere else considering her present state of dress… or lack thereof.
"Lovely. Now, Nicholas, about the packing…" she said, turning away from me.
"I'll get on it in a minute, my dear. I just want to hammer things out with Harry first."
"He's said yes, surely? What else is there?"
"Not yet, mon amour."
"Truly? Is he touched in the head? Perhaps something from the duel with Julian? He does look a bit flushed." And then she was walking closer, a hand reaching for my forehead. I had to consciously restrain myself from slapping it away. It wouldn't do to upset the immortal duo in their territory.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Flamel," I said, trying to ignore the boob in my face.
"Then what is the delay for? People kill for this, you know?"
"I do. But I just want to make sure I'm getting the best deal. I need to know what an apprenticeship with Nicholas Flamel entails and what will be expected from me," I said.
She straightened up then. "Well, fair enough. I'll go pour you both some wine while you discuss that. And if you're negotiating, make sure to push as much as you can. He'll hem and haw, but he secretly loves being pushed in negotiations." She leaned back in toward my ear for the latter half of the sentence before turning and walking away. A sight that I did my best to ignore.
"So what do you want to know, Mr. Potter?"
"Just what I said earlier. What does it mean to be your apprentice? Because it might disappoint you to find out, but I have little interest in alchemy at this point in my life," I started.
"Well, if I were prophesied to fight a dark lord, then I wouldn't be all that interested in alchemy either," he said with a chuckle. Of course he knew about the prophecy. I contemplated feigning ignorance but gave it up as a lost cause. If he went spilling to Dumbledore, I'd just say Sirius told me or something.
I just stared at him until he spoke again.
"I have lived two millennia, as I keep telling you. You think in all that time the only thing I have managed to learn is alchemy? I have mastered magical arts you don't even know exist. Of all my apprentices, it might shock you to find that only a third of them have focused on alchemy. I have trained in all sorts of arts, so whatever it is you want to focus on—whether combat or your fledgling ability in the mind arts—I will be on hand to help." Fledgling ability? I tried not to feel insulted at the obvious attempt to rile me up.
It was a good offer, all things considered. A great offer, even. The best teaching from someone who had been around when structured magic was in its infancy and so had a front-row seat to its development.
"And what would that look like? Let's say I wanted to focus on both combat and the mind arts?" I asked, and he took a second to think, eyes looking over to the side before he spoke.
"Well, we would duel, of course. Ideally, twice every other day. A first duel focused on one aspect of combat and a second focused on another. Then I would train you to improve your weaknesses—spell identification, spell selection, variety, decision-making, things you struggled with during the tournament. On the days we do not duel, your body will rest while your mind will work. We will work on all the areas of mind arts, not just focusing on Occlumency and Legilimency as the Europeans of this age tend to do. I will assess you biweekly, and when the time comes, I will declare our apprenticeship over," he said.
"When the time comes?"
"Yes, when I feel like you are ready, the apprenticeship will end."
"And this is based only on you? What if I feel I'm ready?"
"Well, one of us is the master and the other is the apprentice for a reason. It's not like we would be equals in the relationship. Magic has never intended it to be so."
"So you could hold me down perpetually under the guise of you not feeling like I'm ready yet?"
"Theoretically, yes. But practically, the terms of the apprenticeship oath mean I wouldn't be able to keep you on in bad faith. Magic does not look kindly upon abusing the oaths for any ulterior motive. So trust me when I say that when you are ready, I will release you," he pressed.
"Well enough. But that is not all. What are the terms? What would you expect from me if I said yes?"
"Well, in addition to your lessons under me, you would take a few lessons under Perenelle on things like languages, etiquette, politics, and the like, to make sure no apprentice of mine walks about like an unwashed barbarian. Then you would also be expected to help me with and contribute to my research. This will take precedence over all other concerns, even including your regular lessons. And then we will go on trips every once in a while. Sometimes to hunt magical creatures or items, sometimes to hunt wizards, sometimes just to get a view." He paused for a moment, a fond smile appearing on his face as if he were recalling a memory.
"That's about the bulk of what we will be doing, and as for what I will expect from you, well, they are simple enough: loyalty, for one. You won't just be expected to keep my secrets, but to actively work toward preventing them from being released to the public. You will also agree to never attempt to make a Philosopher's Stone of your own, and you will agree that even after your apprenticeship period is complete, I will be able to call upon you for help when needed. In exchange for suitable compensation, of course," he said.
"Naturally," I drawled, getting a smile out of the alchemist.
"Do we find ourselves with a deal then?" he asked.
"We do. I agree to be your apprentice," I said, and then I felt something click in the universe itself as my magic resonated with the bond forming.
"Lovely."
"Hold on. That just happened? I didn't even swear any oaths."
"But you did. The Master-Apprentice relationship is one of the oldest magical bonds to ever exist. The oath is enforced by magic itself. Once you expressed your intent to be bound and I accepted it, magic did the rest. You are now my apprentice, Mr. Potter. I expect we shall begin in a week. The compass will bring you to me when the time comes. Now you may return to your Godfather." I froze at that. Sirius. Fuck.
"Wait, what do I tell Sirius about all this?" If the Flamels had faked their death, then how was I going to tell Sirius where I was going to be spending much of the foreseeable future? There wasn't really any good way to tell him I couldn't tell him. He'd run mad with curiosity and worry if I just didn't tell him anything. And it wasn't like I could just lie either. He'd notice sooner or later that things weren't adding up.
"Consider him an exception. While you are not permitted to share exact details of your education or training with him, you are permitted to inform him of the basics."
"Including your identity?"
"The basics of that, yes. Nothing about our true origins, obviously," he said.
"Naturally," I agreed with a deadpan drawl. At least that was better than having to lie to him all the time.
"Your stone," I said, reaching into my pocket and offering it to him. He stretched out his hand, waving me away.
"Keep it for now. Let's see if you manage to figure out how to get the elixir out of it. Consider it your first lesson," he said.
"Good to see you're still alive," I said to Sirius on walking into the hotel room.
"Told you the Goblins wouldn't dare attack me once the dueling started," he said.
"Fair enough. They must have been hoping Okonkwo would pull something off," I said, not adding that in a different tournament, without an apprentice of a literally immortal alchemist there, they probably would have found some way to try affecting the outcome. Of course, with the House running a scam of their own, the gamblers were never going to get anything out of it.
"Indeed. You should go get ready for the trophy presentation tonight," he said when he noticed me undoing my shoes.
"It's in five hours," I told him.
"Yeah, but don't you want to get the best seats?"
"I won, Sirius. We'll have the best seats in the house," I said, and that was that, because I needed to get some sleep. A lot of sleep, I amended as I had to drag myself to my bedroom.
"Gee, you sure look tired. Surprisingly tired, considering the med-wizards said you were fine and didn't even go to the clinic with them," he said.
"If you want to know what I was up to, just ask, Sirius. I haven't the energy for this."
"What were you up to?"
"When I wake up," I said cheekily, smashing my head into the pillow. It took me less than a minute to fade to sleep even as Sirius went on about something I couldn't quite focus enough to hear.
—
"You should smile," I whispered to him as I took my seat next to him at the final banquet. Like I'd said, we had the best seats in the house reserved for us, even if we arrived about fifty minutes after the nominal start time. Considering guests were still streaming in, we were just late enough to be considered fashionable. Not so late as to be considered rude, thankfully.
"Something's wrong," he said instead.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked, beginning to look around. Was there some sort of danger I was blind to?
"The drinks, the food arrangement, the decorations. They're all sloppy."
"Sloppy?" I asked, not able to see anything particularly out of place.
"Look at the champagne fountain. It's off to the left of the room, too close to the entrance. When people were flowing in en masse, it probably caused more than a few delays. Then there's the food. It's too far from the drinks. And the way the platters are arranged makes no sense. The decorations are askew as well. Just look at those lights," he pointed out, bringing each thing to my attention. They were subtle, not the kind of thing you'd see without an eye for detail.
"Wow."
"What?"
"I didn't know you were gay," I said with the straightest face imaginable.
"Oh, fuck you."
"'The decorations are askew'? Really, Sirius?"
"Not my fault that shrew of a woman made sure we learned how to set up a good party."
"Okay, so they're a little sloppy. That's not reason enough to ruin your night."
"No, no. Every party usually has something off. But the previous three banquets have been damn near perfect. It's just that for them to go from that level to this one in a matter of hours just feels strange." Well, strange if one didn't know the head organizer of this whole shindig was as dead as a doornail.
So we waited for the event to begin. And when it did, imagine my honest-to-god surprise when none other than Julian Russo walked up to the stage.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my privilege—" I tuned out the rest of what he was saying as I cleared my mind. Once. Twice. He was still there. It couldn't be an illusion. I turned toward where Flamel and his wife had been sitting to find the old man looking at Russo with the same intensity I was. Whatever this was, they were not in on it.
So that then left the question of whatever this was. I barely heard any of the speech as I faded in and out, trying to replay as much of the fight as I could. There was no time when he could have just disappeared and replaced himself with someone or something else. And if he had, why let me leave with the stone? The stone couldn't have been a fake. Flamel would have noticed it. He had to have. I reached into my pocket, and there it was. Alive and pulsing.
It felt real to me. Well, not like I was an expert on real Philosopher's Stones. But it felt like I imagined a Philosopher's Stone to feel like. Then the crowd began applauding, and I watched as Cece walked up to the stage. She had won the third-place match, yeah. But feeling happy for her was far from my mind.
How the fuck had this man survived? Fiendfyre had burned him. I had felt it gain the fuel it gets from doing so, so it wasn't like my spell had burned nothing and he'd just Apparated away or something. Had he sent someone else under Polyjuice? But then that meant he would have let them in on Flamel's secret.
There was another possibility, one that I was coming to believe. Julian Russo was dead. Broekzele's ministry had found out he was missing, and this was someone under a glamour or Polyjuice to avoid setting off a panic or looking weak. It even made some amount of sense. More sense than his having made a Horcrux or something like that. That was just some civil servant wearing his face. So why did I feel so much trepidation walking toward him?
What was with his smile as he took my hand? And why did my senses scream that something was wrong? When he handed the trophy over to me, I took hold of it, and then my eyes caught Flamel's in the crowd. He was drawing his wand. I lurched into motion, but Julian's hand on mine did not give. And the trophy we were both holding was caught on my other hand as if by a Sticking Charm. The feeling of the hook on my navel was expected, but oh so fucking irritating.
A/N: Here we go! Next four chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.