Chapter 43

It was bright and early when I found myself being escorted to the Headmaster's Office for the talk with Dumbledore I'd been dreading about the Philosopher's Stone. I'd prepared as best I could, but the fact was I was most likely about to lose control over the Stone once Dumbledore had found out that I'd learned about its real usage as a Perfect Transfiguration Catalyst. Hopefully, I'd made enough True Oricalcum and Elixir of Life to hold me over for the rest of time because I doubted I would be able to make any more.

Regardless, Professor Snape gave the password to the Gargoyle, which was rather predictably named after another form of Sweet, the Aero Bar, and I was soon being led back up onto the landing in front of the Headmaster's Office. Snape went inside, presumably to chat with Dumbledore about something in private for a bit, leaving me to cool my heels out on the landing once again. As I looked over at the carved Elderwood Door, with its image of Merlin trapped beneath a tree, I couldn't help but sigh and shake my head.

"Hopefully, I've done enough to try and cure the Greengrasses even after losing the stone. What do you think?" I questioned.

The carved image of Merlin didn't respond. Honestly, it was just as well. Though there were probably talking doors out there somewhere, the magic to make Portraits had to come from somewhere, after all, I really didn't need another surprise right now. Besides, if there was a pseudo-consciousness patterned after Merlin floating around out there, you'd think it would have come forward by now, if only to harangue the Ministry about how terrible of a job they were doing in his name.

I stood there in silence for another few moments before Snape exited the Headmaster's Office. It wasn't a long time, mind you. Maybe a bit over a minute, just long enough for me to consider asking Dumbledore to add a bench to the landing if this was going to be a regular thing. As Snape passed me, I nodded at him, to which he nodded back, very shallowly, but the nod was there. I wasn't certain if that was a good or bad thing that my Head of House seemed to have at least a very slight bit of respect for me. He was gone before I could say anything to get clarification on the issue anyway. Shaking my head, I headed inside the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore had taken his normal seat behind his desk, with the snoozing portraits of prior, now-dead, Headmasters hung on the wall behind him. I passed by a row of whirring, silvery, doo-dads to take a seat opposite him. He offered a kindly smile to me as he held out a crystal dish of sweets to offer me one.

"Would you care for a Rolo?" He queried.

"No, thank you, Headmaster. Not before breakfast, at any rate." I demurred.

"Very well. I suppose then that I shall cut to the heart of the matter so as not to keep you from your breakfast. Tell me, how have you found the Stone so far?" Asked Dumbledore.

"It's been an. . .interesting experience so far, Headmaster. I have been conducting some experiments using the Stone and to be perfectly frank with you, I can understand why Nicholas Flamel kept the Stone hidden all these years." I admitted.

"Interesting how, My Boy? Be specific." Pressed Dumbledore.

"I suppose I'll just come out and say it then? Even though you already know?" I questioned.

"I want to hear your thoughts, Mister Zabini. Please, go ahead." Intoned Dumbledore.

"Frankly, Headmaster, the ability to make valuable gold is nothing. Even the Elixir of Life is more of a secondary use. The real purpose of the Philosopher's Stone is to act as a Perfect Transfiguration Catalyst. I daresay that such a thing could even be used to create a True Homunculus, and that's just for starters. If I had more time to figure out how, I am willing to bet I could use the Stone to reproduce an endless variety of Alchemical Reagents, Enchanting Materials, and more, with no loss of mystical potency. It effectively allows the user to break all known laws of Transfiguration and Alchemy." I explained.

"You realized this after just a few weeks with the Stone, did you?" Queried Dumbledore.

"Magnus Gamp had me working on Basic Alchemy as part of my tutoring, Headmaster. I recognized the implications of what I was seeing." I shrugged.

"Did you, now?" Asked Dumbledore.

"I did. Furthermore, I can think of several ways to utilize such a Perfect Catalyst that would be incredibly destructive if the user were so inclined. Or if they were just plain stupid." I admitted.

"Such as?" Questioned Dumbledore.

"Well, firstly, there is the potential to create True Homunculi with none of the usual restrictions. Such beings would have the imperishable bodies of constructs with the minds and magic of a normal Witch or Wizard. If used for ill intent, you could effectively transfigure yourself an army of immortal and powerful combatants. Then there is the potential to crash wizarding economies through wholesale transmutation of precious metals and gemstones. Aside from that, there is a muggle concept of a material called anti-matter that could be transmuted with such a catalyst. Anti-matter, when it comes into contact with regular matter, reacts explosively. Powerfully so, in fact. Hermione mentioned once that muggle scientists have been able to create incredibly small amounts of Anti-Matter at great expense in experiments and have confirmed the explosive reaction. Imagine using the stone to transfigure an entire building into such a thing, I shudder to think of the strength of the explosion that would cause." I laid out.

"I am familiar with the Muggle Concept of Anti-Matter, though I daresay the Muggles having produced and verified the results is news to me, but then, I do not often have time to visit Muggle Universities in disguise as I did in decades previous. I do note, however, that your willingness to listen to Miss Granger's thoughts on the matter does give me hope for the future of Pureblood and Muggleborn relations. If only all Purebloods were as openminded." Sighed Dumbledore.

"Regardless, Headmaster, the point is that the Stone could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands or the hands of the inept." I summarized.

"Well, it does seem that you have thought this out. I must say, I am pleasantly surprised. Perhaps it is time, then, for me to unveil a surprise of my own?" Queried Dumbledore.

"What do you mean, Headmaster?" I asked.

"He means that it is time for me to unveil myself." Came a Voice with a slight accent.

It wasn't French, per se, it was an older form of it. Middle French, perhaps? It certainly sounded like it sprouted from the same linguistic root as Acadian French, where there was retention of certain things that had died out after various French Language Standardization Efforts in the nineteenth century. When I realized that, I realized that there could really only be one person in relation to the Philosopher's Stone that could be.

I turned to see an old man with shoulder-length, white hair and a white beard, shrugging off what appeared to be a similar concealment cloak to the heirloom one I had received as part of my inheritance. He wore white silk robes in an old style, that had brocade in dove gray running along them. Nicholas Flamel, in the flesh. A man who was no less than five-hundred years old, thanks to the Elixir of Life.

"Master Flamel." I nodded.

"Mister Zabini. You know, I knew a Zabini once, Iacopo Zabini. We met under less than ideal circumstances during the Second War between Magical Italy and Magical France in sixteen-sixty-seven. We met and dueled, briefly, in the Hexenviertel of Bern. Neither of us had been exactly welcome in Magical France or Magical Italy at the time, but there is something to be said about national pride even in times of exile." Responded Nicholas Flamel.

"I am unsure what to say to that. Did my ancestor leave an impression, at least?" I questioned.

"He did. As I recall, he left quite an impression on the Zauberwachen as well. I believe he wound up being forced to flee Magical Switzerland entirely as he'd maimed a few Guards in his retreat from Bern. Last I'd heard, he'd been living on the Mystesch Strooss of Luxembourg when his Exile had been lifted, and he'd been preparing to return to Magical Italy at some point in seventeen-fifteen. I have no clue if he made it, however. He'd been quite old at the time and did not have the benefits of the Elixir of Life." Remarked Nicholas Flamel.

"He did return, though he died en-route to our Village in the Distretto dei Maghi of Perugia on the way South. The return of his body and personal effects has been something of an ongoing debacle for the family. He had been traveling with a collection of rare Grimoires he'd picked up on his travels throughout his exile, you see. The Mayor and Town Council of Magical Perugia have been somewhat reticent to return the entire library. I remember my Mother had to petition the Mayor of Magical Perugia when I was seven years old to return the rest of the tomes." I recalled.

"Is that so? And how is your mother?" Queried Nicholas Flamel.

"Dead." I frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Consoled Nicholas Flamel.

"It's all right, sir. I've learned to deal with the grief by now." I sighed.

"Nicholas, might we get to the point? I would so hate to keep Young Blaise from his Breakfast for longer than necessary." Cut in Dumbledore.

"Of course, Albus." Agreed Nicholas Flamel, before turning toward me with a sad look on his face.

"You don't even need to ask. The Stone was always yours, I was merely holding onto it for a time." I pre-empted.

"You knew we would ask for it back?" Asked Dumbledore.

"I suspected as soon as I realized its potential." I acknowledged.

"And you are all right with this?" Questioned Nicholas Flamel.

"I am. Like I said, in the wrong hands, this could do a lot of damage. Even if those hands were simply inept, the potential for catastrophe is too high. I'm not conceited enough to think I'll never make mistakes." I shrugged.

"Wisdom beyond your years. That is rare indeed." Mused Nicholas Flamel.

"What of your desire to cure the Greengrasses?" Queried Dumbledore.

"I have produced enough Elixir of Life that it should do the job. If it doesn't, well, I'm hardly the most qualified to figure out how to use the Stone to cure them to begin with." I admitted.

I reached into my Mokeskin Pouch and pulled the fist-sized chunk of mystical gemstone out, handing it over to Nicholas Flamel, who took it with a thoughtful look. Reaching into a Mokeskin Pouch of his own, Nicholas Flamel produced a tome of his own, offering it to me. I looked at the book, with its leatherbound cover and copper-embossed title, then back to Nicholas Flamel.

"What is this for, Sir?" I asked.

"I have heard you are something of a budding alchemist. This is a copy of my personal notes on the fundamentals of Alchemy. You being so willing to give up something so powerful for the good of Wizardkind is a rare thing in a Wizard so young. I would see such altruism nurtured. Call it positive reinforcement." Smirked Nicholas Flamel.

"Thank you." I nodded.

I took the book reverently and placed it into my Mokeskin Pouch. Really, between that book and the Craftsman's Tradition, I should be able to grow my alchemical capabilities by leaps and bounds. There were worse trade-offs than this. A lot worse.

"And now, Mister Zabini, I think it is time that you headed off to breakfast. We would not want to keep you from the most important meal of the Day, after all." Intoned Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye.

"All right, Headmaster. Master Flamel, thank you for the notes. Truly, they are quite the gift." I nodded.

And with that, I headed out of the Headmaster's Office, making my way down the spiral staircase, back out of the Gargoyle Alcove, and headed for the Great Hall. I may have lost the Philosopher's Stone, but then, I wasn't really meant to have it. At the same time, not only had I gained valuable True Orichalcum and Elixir of Life from my time with the Stone, but by returning it, I'd gotten my hands on valuable alchemical knowledge from the greatest living master of the art, to boot. All in all, it could have been a lot worse. Dumbledore could have forced me to give up the stone and everything I'd gained from it.

Unfortunately, as I made my way to the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall for Breakfast, the Post Owls arrived. I had just sat down when I was divebombed by a Snowy White Post Owl, spattering a gobbet of bird shite onto the shoulders of my robes. I grumbled and cast a scourgify to clean the bird shite off my robes, frowning as an owl swooped down and snatched a piece of bacon off my plate, much to the laughter of my housemates. With a sigh, I couldn't help but feel that if only things with Magical Creatures went as smoothly as my studies of alchemy, I'd be set for life. Sadly, we simply didn't live in an ideal world, and I would have to endure the ire of various Magical Creatures.

I suppose you really couldn't win them all. . .

XXXX

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, he of the many titles and jobs, sat at his desk, silently gazing at his one-time mentor, the Renowned Alchemist Nicholas Flamel, over his bone china teacup. Nicholas gazed right back at Albus over his own teacup. One of them would have to break the silence eventually and broach the subject both knew had to be broached, but until one of them did, it was teatime.

Albus sipped from his teacup, frowning as he did so. He'd never been a fan of Lapsang Souchong Tea, but it was popular in France historically, and as a Frenchman who could be considered historical himself, Nicholas Flamel was very partial to Lapsang Souchong Tea. Honestly, Albus preferred something less smoky. He wouldn't mind a nice Darjeeling Tea, but that might be his own sweet tooth talking.

"I know, Albus." Sighed Nicholas Flamel.

"I didn't say anything." Pointed out Albus.

"You didn't have to. You were doing that pout you always did when you wanted to broach a topic but didn't want to be the first to do so." Huffed Nicholas Flamel.

"Was I? I had thought I'd gotten rid of that years ago." Mused Albus.

"Perhaps to most you would have. I can still read you with only a bit of difficulty, though. That tends to happen at my age." Shrugged Nicholas Flamel.

"Indeed. About that. . ." Started Albus.

"I agree, though you will have to talk Perenelle into it yourself. You know how she can be." Interrupted Nicholas Flamel.

"If you're certain, Nicholas. I must say I didn't think you would agree so swiftly." Mused Albus.

"It was the way the Zabini Lad mentioned the destructive properties of the Stone. I had not considered how simple ineptitude might be in some ways even worse than malice. And that Anti-Matter thing he mentioned, if the Muggles know of it, then Muggleborns will as well, and they have more reason than most to turn to hostility to achieve their aims. No, I agree, the Stone must be destroyed." Responded Nicholas Flamel.

"And you are certain that I will be able to convince your wife of that necessity?" Pressed Albus.

"Perenelle might harangue you a bit for it, but she is an Alchemist herself, as you well know, Albus. The arguments that swayed me will sway her as well, you simply need to be a bit forceful with them." Intoned Nicholas Flamel.

"She always did have a tongue sharper than a Goblin's Blade." Chuckled Albus.

"And just as silvery. You know it was she who pursued me when we were young." Grinned Nicholas Flamel.

"I recall the stories. You used to tell them after indulging in a bit too much wine." Nodded Albus.

"Those were good days, Albus. Good days, indeed. Before the Necromancer's War and the succession of Crises that engulfed Europe three times over." Reminisced Nicholas Flamel.

"I was a much younger man then. You were still old, though." Smirked Albus.

"Ah, but I have always been young at heart, Albus. That is where it counts." Sighed Nicholas Flamel.

"On a more serious note, Nicholas. If I do manage to convince Perenelle of the necessity of destroying the Stone, what will happen to the two of you?" Questioned Albus.

"We have enough Elixir of Life stored away to live a few more decades. Perhaps until twenty-thirty or so. That is plenty of time to set affairs in order and ensure that our legacy lives on through others. Do not fret for us, Albus." Placated Nicholas Flamel.

"Six-Hundred-Twenty Years Old. I cannot help but notice that will allow you to beat Paracelsus' Record as the Longest-Lived Wizard in History by a full Normal Wizarding Lifespan." Mused Albus.

"Yes, well, Theophrastus was something of a Rival of Mine in our Youths, after all. That he died two years ago to a sudden Dragon Attack was a fluke. Without that, I doubt I would have ever beaten him. After all, it isn't as if he would have agreed to destroy his Stone." Shrugged Nicholas Flamel.

"No, the Hungarian Horntail did that for him." Smirked Albus.

"Indeed. Though somehow, I don't feel quite as bad about it as I should, given how the Village of Ecken also burned to the ground. Fifty wizarding families aside from Theophrastus also lost their homes in the attack, after all." Admitted Nicholas Flamel.

They spoke for a bit longer, but ultimately, Nicholas needed to return to his home in France, while Albus had a School to run and the Wizengamot to oversee. They would not meet like this again until the Summer, when Albus would attempt to convince Perenelle Flamel of the necessity of destroying the Philosopher's Stone. Until then, Albus would not see his Old Mentor again. When he did visit the Flamels again, it would be the last time he would see them, though not for the reasons that Albus might have thought. After all, Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle would indeed wind up living until twenty-thirty thanks to their stored supply of Elixir of Life.

Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, would not. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we have the next chapter. Not only does Blaise return the Stone to Nicholas Flamel, but Flamel gives him a bit of a primer in the form of a copy of his own personal Notes on the Fundementals of Alchemy. Most Wizards would kill for that sort of knowledge, and all Blaise had to do was return the Philosopher's Stone to get it. At the same time, Albus has one-half of the Flamels convinced to destroy the Stone to avoid it falling into the wrong hands or the hands of the inept. He'll be travelling to France over the Summer to try and convince Perenelle to follow suit.

Of course, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel have stockpiled enough Elixir of Life to live a few more decades. This is largely in contrast to canon, where they, at best, had four years' worth of Elixir of Life stockpiled. Honestly, that never made much sense to me since you can clearly stockpile the stuff, and there doesn't seem to be a limit to how much you can produce from the Stone. Why would they not keep a few barrels of the stuff in the Wine Cellar or something, just in case of mishap? It would be the smart thing to do if you were actually concerned with living for an extended period.

As for the remark at the end of the chapter, that doesn't necessarily mean that Dumbledore will be killed. After all, the maximum unaugmented lifespan of a Wizard is a hundred-and-twenty years. Dumbledore was born in eighteen-eighty-one. That means he will at most live until two-thousand-one if he sticks to the natural lifespan of a Wizard. That's not exactly twenty-thirty, even if he isn't killed.

At any rate, the next chapter will include a dream that Blaise has involving a dream visitation by Fortuna, the Roman Goddess of Luck, on her Feast Day, which also happens to be Blaise's Birthday.

Stay tuned. . .