December 1918

Nicolas leaned back against the wall, a pint of now lukewarm beer still clasped in his hand. The table was littered with parchments, an ink pen sitting jauntily atop the mess of research. There was something horribly demoralising and frustrating about reaching a dead end in your life's work. It was the first time in his life that he had reached such a huge roadblock. He took a sip of his beer and pulled a face as the warm liquid washed over his tongue. Nicolas set the pint tankard down on a wedge of folded parchment with a thud, wiping his mouth as he did so.

He absentmindedly glanced down at his pocket watch, pointedly not looking at the obnoxiously high pile of papers sitting haphazardly atop the table. Albus was late yet again, leaving him alone in the lounge with pages of unsolved formulas and frustrating questions.

The thought had passed his mind that maybe it was just impossible. However, people had called the creation of the panacea impossible and while it was still incomplete, he had proven that it was at least achievable. It was just obscenely difficult and of course it was typical of Albus to leave him stewing in his own frustration.

This was a day when Nicolas really couldn't be blamed for his annoyance with Albus. The younger man had convinced him to move their weekly meeting to the local pub. The uncomfortable upholstery, cloying smell of smoke, and loud, raucous conversation from the working class on the other side of the bar did not provide a fruitful atmosphere for research. Nicolas would have given anything to be back in his house with a warm cup of tea, L'Orfeo in the background and stimulating conversation from one Albus Dumbledore. However he was stuck in this smelly bar until the younger man decided to grace him with his presence.

The blast of cold air from the opening of the door attracted Nicolas' attention and he turned to see a young man stalk moodily into the pub. The boy made a beeline for the bar, looking thoroughly out of place in the lounge, with an old brown coat and an equally tattered bag thrown over his shoulder. However he soon shrugged the coat off and threw it over one of the scratchily upholstered chairs to reveal a crisp white shirt, waistcoat and tie. The young man turned back to the barman and muttered something quietly under his breath to which the landlord scoffed and handed him a pint of beer and gestured to the boy's coat with a rather weary expression. The young man absently waved a hand and threw himself into the seat opposite Nicolas, beer in hand.

Young people nowadays had no respect for their elders or betters, he thought, after a glance at the boy's coat.

Nicolas ignored the disrespectful boy and directed his gaze back down at the papers on the table. If Albus was going to keep him waiting all night then he should at least try to be productive. He pulled out his first formula for the panacea and took out the three remaining pages of his chrysopoeia notes. The transmutation of lead to gold was such an imprecise science and last week a bout of angry frustration had led to him throwing years of notes into the fire. It was no great loss; the majority of it had been pure speculation and outlandish combinations of natural philosophy and chemical reasoning.

He picked up the pen and pulled out his translation of 'The Ripley Scroll'. Nicolas knew that there had to be more information to glean from the document but at the moment pouring over every nuance in wording was not an exciting prospect. He bent over the low gilt table and started to write out possible combinations of runes, going back to chrysopoeia seemed to be the next logical step.

A sudden movement in front of him made Nicolas pause and look up. The grumpy young man sitting opposite him had picked up his notes and was loudly rifling through them, a strange look on his face. Nicolas was taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

The boy didn't react, he simply threw down the pages he had read with a thud and continued to flick through the remaining work.

"Young man-"

"This is all wrong." He interrupted, not looking up from the page he was reading, "Your theories are completely flawed and have you even considered the moral complications of chrysopoeia?"

Nicolas was taken aback at the young man's audacity and watched in shock as the boy pulled a small worn leather notebook out of his bag on the floor. He grabbed Nicolas' pen and began to copy out his best formulas, drawing circles around certain runes and underlining whole sections.

"If you ever created these reactions then you wouldn't get what you wanted. See here?" The boy laughed jauntily, "I think you forgot that you can't just change the laws of physics whenever it suits you."

"These are not finished formulas, just ideas." Countered Nicolas, spluttering with indignation.

"Never too early for a second opinion, it's pretty obvious that you need one."

"And what gives you the authority to give that opinion?"

The boy shrugged nonchalantly.

"I guess I'm just a genius."

Nicolas scoffed loudly.

"You're a little boy with more pride than is healthy."

Nicolas was met by a sharp golden stare.

"Who are you calling little?" he asked dangerously.

Of all the things Albus expected when he walked into the pub, it wasn't this.

Nicolas was sitting next to a small blond boy with the most outrageously long hair he had ever seen. The other man was intently focused on the notebook the boy was writing in. His hand was flying over the page, drawing intricate symbols and making tiny notes in the margins next to each rune.

Nicolas' papers were organised into piles on the table and at a quick glance, Albus could see they were grouped into the different alchemical goals Nicolas had set.

The two were now engaged in what seemed to be a vigorous debate over one page in particular.

Albus ordered a scotch whiskey with a raise of his finger; it was probably going to be a long evening. A few minutes late and Nicolas had already lost interest in their weekly meeting.

"Oh Albus! I didn't notice you there, sit down sit down!" Nicolas said, gesturing enthusiastically to the plush chair opposite. "Edward here was just…Oh yes, this is Edward."

The little blond boy cracked a small smile and boldly extended his left hand. Albus took his hand gingerly, slightly miffed at both the sudden appearance of the boy and the left handed greeting.

"I wasn't aware that we were expecting company this evening, Nicolas."

"Neither was I!" Nicolas replied, a grin still on his face.

"Oh?" Albus asked, sitting down and taking a sip of the whiskey in front of him.

"We've been spending the evening correcting this…well…this." Edward said, waving his hand over the neatly stacked piles of papers on the low table.

Albus raised an incredulous eyebrow, correcting? Nicolas was, and always had been, at the forefront of alchemy. He had spearheaded the institute in Cairo and been one of the greatest inspirations to aspiring new wizards. How could this boy even help to improve Nicolas' work?

To his shock Nicolas let out a hearty laugh and clapped the boy on the back.

"A genius, no, no, no – a prodigy! He just sat down opposite me and…well," Nicolas gestured wildly, "We just started debating and it's solved almost every problem we've ever faced, Albus! We were just talking about…Oh, what were we talking about?"

"I was trying to explain the differences between these two runes when you use a secondary arc, it means that the con…"

Albus cradled the thick glass in his hand, swirling the golden liquid and watching a new conversation start. Whatever doubts he had entertained about the boy's aptitude were swiftly melting away. Albus found it difficult to remember being that young and enthusiastic. His interest in alchemy had been slowly waning over the years and there were far more important things occupying his time now.

Every week he was finding it more and more difficult to dedicate an evening of his time to Nicolas' ideas and conversation. It was so easy to become disillusioned when all of their ideas seemed to come to nothing.

The blond boy suddenly cut off in the middle of his sentence and looked up sharply.

"Oh, what's the time?" he asked urgently.

Nicolas flicked open his pocket watch.

"Nine." He said after a cursory glance at the clock face.

"Damn." The boy cursed, grabbing his notebook in one hand and stumbling to his feet. "Sorry…Need to go, I'm more than a little bit late-"

"Edward?" The boy's head jerked up as the word left Nicolas' mouth, "Same time next week?"

The look on the boy's face was one of surprise and amusement.

"Sure." He said, "Sure."

He stuck out his hand, balancing the coat, bag and book between his shoulder and chin.

"It was nice meeting you." Nicolas said with one of his signature beaming smiles.

Edward was already halfway across the room, waving a hand in goodbye.

Albus turned his attention back to the older wizard.

"So, that was interesting." He said with a small smile.

"I've never met anyone like him."

"I assume he's a wizard, he can't have left school that long ago?"

Nicolas paused slightly and rubbed his beard in thought.

"Come to think about it, he never mentioned anything about practical applications of alchemy, let alone magic. As for how old he is, I didn't really think to ask. I was more surprised by his intelligence, he doesn't look the type, does he?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Albus replied, leaning forwards in concern, "You don't know who he could be. Do you really want to risk it all on a stranger?"

"Albus; he solved problems that I have been struggling with for years. After a glance he could tell me the answer to every question I've ever had. If he is a Muggle then so be it. I cannot look over knowledge like that because of something as petty as blood or age."

"I'm not saying that you should. I just…I merely advise you to use caution."

Nicolas nodded and started to shuffle his notes back together into one pile.

"I understand what you're saying, if someone had just told me the same thing, I would probably be thinking the same as you." He paused slightly with his hand hovering over the last paper, "Albus, do you still want to continue this work with me?"

"Of course I do." He replied quickly.

Nicolas made a small humming noise and looked down at his forgotten drink that was sitting on top of a loose paper.

"Above all you are my friend. I don't need to tell you that you are free to tell me the truth?"

"I am telling you the truth, Nicolas. I am just busy at the moment."

"Too busy for me?" he asked, a smile overtaking his serious expression, "You seem to be very much in demand at the moment."

Albus smiled and took another sip of his whiskey.

"So, talk me through your new discoveries."

Albus arrived a little earlier the next week, aware that his friend would not take kindly to another significantly late appearance. Nicolas was sat at a table, a scotch in one hand and a notebook in the other.

"Ah, at last my friend!" he said, raising his glass in salutation, "I'm starting to feel that moving our meetings to the pub was a poor idea. Perenelle seems far too happy to have me out of the house."

Albus joined him at the table with a chuckle, gesturing for a scotch from the bar.

"That poor woman does put up with a lot. How many rooms have your laboratories taken over now?"

"You should have seen the workshop in France!" he exclaimed with a grin, "This is the smallest one yet."

"I would have loved to see it." Albus replied, shaking his head with a small smile.

"Ah, well, there's nothing we can do. The Muggles start to get overly curious when we stay in one area for too long. It's much better in a more magical area like this."

It was true. Godric's Hollow was almost entirely populated by Wizards, although there was a growing number of Muggles. Such a community was rare, but integrated communities were becoming more and more common. Even with the growing Muggle community, it was still unquestionably the best place for Ariana.

"So, how has your research been going?" Nicolas asked, shaking Albus out of his train of thought.

"I must say, recently my mind has been elsewhere. My friend Gellert has some dragons blood that he's not sure what to do with, so I might have a play with that."

Nicolas raised a sandy eyebrow but any reply was cut off by the thud of Edward throwing himself down in the opposite seat.

"Sorry if I'm late." The young man muttered, shrugging off his ratty coat.

"Not at all, we were just discussing our research plans. Have you been working on anything?"

"Haha, why? Looking for some better ideas?" he asked with a wolfish grin.

Nicolas grumbled something under his breath about the impedance of youth and took a final hit of his Scotch.

"If you're going to insist on being difficult, take a look at this." He said thrusting a page towards the boy.

Edward leaned back and studied the sheet of formulas carefully. After a moment he pulled out his leather notebook and a stub of a pencil from his pocket.

"You're on the right track, this part is perfect but I think you're over complicating things here. Maybe this would be better?" he said scratching out the ink and replacing it with his own pencilled in equation.

Nicolas leaned over to watch the boy work; he really was incredible.

"So Edward, how did you come to study Alchemy?" Asked Albus, "It's quite an unusual subject for a young man."

Edward paused, pencil hovering over the paper. He opened his mouth to answer but seemed to think better of it.

"I guess I'm always looking for a new challenge." Edward started, his speech carefully considered. "To be honest, I'm more surprised to find that other people are also studying," he gestured at the papers with his hands, "this."

Albus and Nicolas exchanged a quick glance. It was true that Alchemy was an unusual area of study, however it was certainly not unheard of. There was a chance that he was trying to disguise the magical links through careful phrasing. That, or he was a remarkably informed Muggle.

Albus made a noise of appreciation when Edward gestured that he was done and he leaned over to see the younger man's ideas.

"Have you been in Godric's Hollow long Edward?" Nicolas asked while Albus studied the revised notes.

"Just under a year." He said dismissively, "My Dad moved here, so I didn't really have much choice."

"Not exactly the perfect place for a young man, is it? I've long been telling Albus here the same thing."

"At least there are some other scientific minds here. I was starting to lose hope." Replied Edward.

Albus smiled and passed the notes back to Nicolas who peered at them curiously.

"This is fascinating." He said, scratching his sandy whiskers curiously.

"I mean, it's totally theoretical of course." Edward said quickly, "If any of this was possible, chrysopoeia in practice would send the world into total chaos."

Nicolas nodded in understanding before flipping his notebook open to another page. They spent the next few hours talking over various equations and debating over theories. Before long the lounge was almost empty and they were left in the half-light of evening. Edward flipped open a pocket watch and let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm going to have to go." He said, tying the leather strap around his notebook and shoving the pencil, now even stubbier, back into his pocket.

"Oh, I didn't even notice the time!" Exclaimed Albus, getting to his feet.

"So, umm, next week?" Edward asked, uncharacteristically shyly.

"Absolutely, absolutely!" said Nicolas, "Would you mind us moving to my home next week? I would rather not take some of my more delicate research outside, if you can understand. I'd love your opinion."

"Sure. Where-"

"It would probably be best to meet outside the pub. I would hate you to get lost." Nicolas said with a quick smile.

"Next week at three." Edward said before awkwardly shrugging his jacket back on. "See you then."