The first Hogsmeade weekend of term arrived with a crisp autumn breeze that sent golden leaves spiralling across the grounds of Hogwarts. While most third-years bubbled with excitement over their inaugural visit to the wizarding village, Chris had quietly informed Susan and Hannah that he had "important family business" to attend to. They'd accepted his excuse with only mild disappointment, accustomed to his occasional mysterious absences. Now, with the castle half-empty and corridors quiet, he made his way to the seventh floor corridor, heart beating steadily as he prepared to meet one of the most legendary wizards in history.
Three passes before the blank wall, each with the same thought focused in his mind: "I need to see Cassie." On the third turn, the stone shimmered and transformed, revealing an ornate door that hadn't existed moments before. Chris glanced quickly at his HUD to ensure no one had witnessed the room's appearance, then slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
"Big brother!" Cassie's voice rang out. "You're here on a special day! The other students are all going to the village with the funny name!"
"Hogsmeade," Chris said with a small smile. "And yes, that's intentional. I need your help, Cassie. I'm meeting someone important, and I need a secure Floo connection that can't be traced."
Cassie's eyes widened with delight at being asked to help. "Oh! Secret travel! I can do that!" She twirled once, her ethereal form sending ripples of magic through the air. The room shifted around them, the garden sanctuary transforming into a smaller, cozier space dominated by a large stone fireplace against one wall.
"This connects to nowhere and everywhere," she explained proudly. "The headmasters never knew about it. It's old magic, from when Rowena sometimes needed to leave quickly."
"It's perfect," Chris said, using his hand, he passed it over the bracelet, murmuring the counter-charm to the glamour he maintained daily. His features shifted subtly, his face becoming slightly more angular, his shoulders broadening, his posture adjusting to accommodate a different center of gravity. Not dramatically different, but enough that those who knew only his school persona might not immediately recognize him.
"I like when you look like your real self," Cassie said softly. "Your magic feels more... settled. Plus you are way more handsome"
Chris nodded, ignoring the last comment, and took a pinch of glittering powder from a small pouch in his pocket. "I'll be back within two hours."
Cassie smiled. "I wait for you here big brother, just say Hogwarts Room of Requirement to return."
With a grateful nod, Chris tossed the powder into the flames, which instantly turned emerald green. He stepped forward, stating clearly but not too loudly: "Le Refuge de l'Alchimiste." The flames engulfed him, and the Room of Requirement spun away in a rush of magical fire.
The journey through the Floo network felt longer than usual, international travel always did, but eventually the spinning slowed, and Chris stepped out into a small, rustic cottage. The floor beneath his feet was worn stone, polished by centuries of footsteps. A simple wooden table stood in the center of the room, flanked by two chairs that looked old enough to have witnessed the founding of Hogwarts. Bundles of dried herbs hung from rough-hewn ceiling beams, filling the air with earthy fragrances. Through a small window, he glimpsed rolling countryside that could have been almost anywhere in rural France.
Chris brushed soot from his robes, then positioned himself where he could see both the cottage door and the fireplace he'd emerged from. Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the gentle ticking of an ancient clock on the mantle. Then, a soft scraping at the door.
It swung open to reveal a man whose appearance spoke of centuries rather than decades. Nicolas Flamel stood barely five and a half feet tall, his body bent slightly forward as if the weight of years physically pressed down upon his shoulders. His face was a web of fine lines and deeper creases, the skin almost translucent in its pallor. Sparse white hair clung to his scalp, and his hands, steady despite their apparent fragility, held a wand of dark wood aimed directly at Chris's heart.
But it was Flamel's eyes that commanded attention. Set deep in their sockets, they shone with a fierce intelligence that belied his frail frame, the dark pupils surrounded by irises of such a pale blue they appeared almost silver in the cottage's dim light. Those eyes had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth of modern magical theory, the darkest and brightest moments of six centuries of wizarding history.
"Who are you?" Flamel asked, his voice surprisingly strong despite his ancient appearance. His French accent colored his English words. "You requested this meeting, yet you appear barely more than a boy."
Chris raised his hands slowly, palms outward, showing he held no wand. "Appearances can be deceiving, Master Flamel. I am indeed young by your standards, but I believe age is sometimes measured in experience rather than years."
Flamel's wand didn't waver. "Pretty words. But I did not survive six centuries by trusting easily. State your purpose."
"I am a student at Hogwarts," Chris replied calmly. "But before I say more, I must insist on the magical oath we discussed. Your secrets will remain yours, as mine will remain mine."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Flamel's ancient features. "You are in no position to make demands, young man."
"It's not a demand," Chris clarified. "It's a mutual protection. I have information and items that would be of great interest to certain parties, including your friend Albus Dumbledore. I suspect you have similar concerns."
They regarded each other in tense silence, neither willing to yield ground. Finally, Flamel gave a slight nod.
"Very well. The oath, then we proceed."
Chris lowered his hands as Flamel stepped fully into the cottage, closing the door behind him. They faced each other across the worn table, wands now drawn but held point-down in the traditional position for oath-making.
"I, Nicolas Flamel, swear upon my magic that I shall not reveal the identity or secrets of the wizard before me to any other being, unless given explicit permission or released from this oath."
A thin ribbon of golden light emerged from Flamel's wand, coiling around his wrist.
"I, Christopher Emrys Ambrosia, swear upon my magic that I shall not reveal the secrets or location of Nicolas Flamel to any other being, unless given explicit permission or released from this oath."
A matching golden ribbon extended from Chris's wand, intertwining with Flamel's. The combined light pulsed once, brightly, then sank beneath their skin, the magic of the oath taking hold.
"Now," Flamel said, lowering himself into one of the ancient chairs. "What is this about?"
"First, the matter that brought us together," Chris said. "Jilly."
With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared beside him, her amber eyes wide but dignified as she took in their surroundings and the legendary alchemist seated before them. In her hands, wrapped in silk, was an object the size of a small apple.
"Master called for Jilly," she said with a small bow.
"Thank you, Jilly," Chris said warmly. "Please give Master Flamel what we discussed."
The house-elf approached Flamel, who had gone completely still. With reverent care, Jilly unwrapped the silk, revealing a blood-red stone that seemed to glow with an inner light. She extended it toward the ancient alchemist.
"The Philosopher's Stone is returned to its rightful creator," she announced formally.
Flamel's hands trembled slightly as he accepted the Stone, his eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, he simply stared at the object in his palms, then raised his gaze to Chris.
"How...?" he began, but seemed unable to finish the question.
Jilly, her task complete, disappeared with another soft pop, leaving the two wizards alone once more.
Chris straightened, drawing himself to his full height. The moment had come to reveal the truth he had guarded so carefully.
"First, proper introductions. I am Christopher Emrys Ambrosia," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of noble lineage. "Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Ambrosia, Heir to Merlin Emrys Ambrosia."
The silence that followed was absolute. Flamel's ancient face transformed as shock gave way to disbelief, then to a dawning excitement that seemed to erase decades from his features.
"Impossible," he whispered, the Philosopher's Stone momentarily forgotten in his hands. "The Ambrosia line was thought extinct for centuries. And Merlin's bloodline..." He shook his head in wonder. "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof, young man."
"Indeed they do," Chris agreed. "And I am prepared to provide it."
...
Nicolas Flamel rose from his chair with surprising agility for one so ancient, the Philosopher's Stone now carefully tucked into an inner pocket of his robes. He circled the table, eyes never leaving Chris's face, as if searching for something in his features. "The Ambrosia line was believed extinct since the late seventeenth century," he said, his voice soft but intense. "And Merlin's bloodline... most considered it mere legend even in my youth. You understand why I require more than words."
"Of course," Chris replied. He extended his right hand, palm down, and with a simple thought, a ring materialized on his finger. The gold was ancient, almost ruddy in its hue, and the stone set within it bore a crest that seemed to shift and change as Flamel leaned closer to examine it.
"The Ambrosia signet," Flamel whispered. "I have seen it once before, in a painting from the fifth century." His fingers hovered above the ring without touching it. "May I?"
Chris nodded, and Flamel drew his wand, murmuring an identification spell so old that the words seemed to dissolve into the air rather than hang there. The ring glowed with a deep blue light, then emitted a shower of golden sparks that formed, briefly, into the shape of an eastern dragon before dissipating.
"Genuine," Flamel confirmed, a note of wonder in his voice. "And the magical signature... unlike anything I've encountered in centuries." He returned to his seat, motioning for Chris to do the same. "Where have you been all these years? The magical world believes the Ambrosia line died out long ago, and no one has claimed the title of Merlin's heir in living memory."
Chris settled into the chair opposite Flamel, considering his words carefully. This was the moment to establish his cover story, one that contained enough truth to be believable while concealing his most guarded secrets.
"I was raised in a Muggle orphanage," he began softly, the rehearsed story flowing naturally. "Unaware of my heritage until recently, when the family house-elves finally located me. They had been searching since the death of the last known Ambrosia, bound by ancient magic to find the next heir." He paused, gauging Flamel's reaction. "The Goblins of Gringotts confirmed my identity through blood tests and magical inheritance verification. They have been instrumental in keeping my true identity secret until I am ready to claim it publicly."
"A wise precaution," Flamel noted, stroking his wispy beard thoughtfully. "Britain's magical political landscape is particularly treacherous at present. A child heir to such a legacy would become either a weapon or a target for various factions."
"Exactly," Chris agreed. "The Goblins recommended I continue my education anonymously, building my knowledge and power before revealing myself. When I am of age and sufficiently prepared, I will formally claim the Ambrosia title and seats."
Flamel nodded slowly, then moved on. "The magical world believes the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed after the incident at Hogwarts. Not even Albus knows I created more than one, or that the original was ever taken." His piercing eyes fixed on Chris. "Yet somehow, you not only knew of its existence but managed to retrieve it before Voldemort could. A remarkable feat for a young wizard, regardless of his lineage."
"I have certain... abilities," Chris said carefully. "Sensitivities to magic that seem to be part of my inheritance. I sensed the Stone's presence and the danger it was in."
"Interesting," Flamel murmured. "The Ambrosia family was known for unusual magical gifts." He leaned forward slightly. "And what of the famous Ambrosia library? The collection was rumoured to contain texts dating back two millennia, even works by Merlin himself."
A smile tugged at Chris's lips. "The rumors understate the reality. The library remains intact, protected by family magic in our ancestral home."
"Extraordinary," Flamel breathed. "In my six centuries, I have never had the privilege of examining works of that calibre." He hesitated, then continued, "Perhaps we might arrange an exchange of knowledge. I have personal grimoires on alchemy that exist nowhere else. I would be willing to share them in exchange for access to any alchemical texts in your family's collection."
"That would be agreeable," Chris replied, genuine excitement coloring his voice. For all his knowledge and power, the opportunity to learn directly from Nicolas Flamel was extraordinary. "I can create magical copies of the relevant volumes, allowing us both to keep our original texts."
"Magical copies?" Flamel raised an eyebrow. "That's complex magic, especially for ancient texts with their own protective enchantments."
"Another family specialty," Chris explained. "The Ambrosia grimoires contain a method for creating temporary duplicates that retain all textual information but none of the original's magical properties or protections. They dissolve after being read once, ensuring the knowledge only spreads once, while protecting the source."
"Ingenious," Flamel admitted, clearly impressed. "I would accept such an arrangement." He paused, considering Chris with renewed interest. "You're an unusual young man, Lord Ambrosia. Far more knowledgeable and composed than your apparent years would suggest."
Chris inclined his head at the observation but offered no explanation. Instead, he posed a question that had lingered in his mind: "May I ask why you entrusted the Philosopher's Stone to Dumbledore in the first place? Surely there were safer hiding places than a school full of children."
A sharp laugh escaped Flamel's lips, surprising in its sudden mirth. "Is that what Albus told everyone? That I entrusted him with the actual Stone?" He shook his head, amusement dancing in his ancient eyes. "The old fool. Always so certain of his own cleverness."
"You mean...?" Chris began, already suspecting the answer.
"The 'Stone' at Hogwarts was a convincing fake," Flamel confirmed, a hint of pride in his voice. "A clever construct of condensed magical energy designed to mimic the aura and basic properties of the true Stone. Enough to fool most wizards, even one as powerful as Voldemort. I would never entrust the real Stone to anyone, especially not Albus with his penchant for elaborate, flawed plans."
Chris couldn't suppress a smile at this revelation. "A false Stone to bait a trap. Clever."
"Perenelle and I have survived for six centuries because we trust no one completely," Flamel said simply. "Albus means well, but his methods... His willingness to sacrifice pawns for his greater game has always troubled me." He glanced toward the window, where the afternoon light was beginning to slant. "But enough of old wizards and their schemes. You would need to return to Hogwarts today."
Chris nodded, noting the time. "Yes, I should be getting back soon. The Hogsmeade visit will be ending, and my absence might be noticed."
"Then we shall continue our discussions through correspondence," Flamel decided. "Your owl seems remarkably capable of finding me, despite our protective enchantments."
"Athena is special," Chris agreed. "And I would welcome your guidance, especially regarding the foundations of alchemy. I'd prefer to learn systematically, beginning with the basic principles."
"A refreshing approach," Flamel noted approvingly. "Too many young wizards want to skip directly to creating gold or brewing the Elixir without understanding the underlying principles. I'll send copies of my introductory texts first, with annotations from my personal studies."
They both stood, the agreement sealed with a formal handshake that hummed with magical recognition between two powerful wizards.
"Until next time, Lord Ambrosia," Flamel said, the title carrying genuine respect now rather than scepticism.
"Please, when we're speaking privately, call me Christopher or Chris," Chris offered. "And thank you for agreeing to this exchange. I look forward to learning from your centuries of wisdom."
Flamel nodded, a hint of pleasure in his ancient features. "In private, then, you may call me Nicolas. It has been... refreshing to meet a young wizard with proper respect for both history and caution."
With a final nod, Chris turned toward the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo powder from a small pot on the mantle. As the green flames engulfed him and he called out the destination that would return him to the Room of Requirement, he caught a final glimpse of Nicolas Flamel's expression, a mixture of wonder and renewed vigour that suggested their meeting had awakened something in the ancient alchemist.