Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.

Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story.

Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.

In addition, you can follow the official ACI100 fanfiction account on Instagram aci100ff or by using the link on my profile to get even more out of my written works.

Recommendations:

Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.

Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.

Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.

The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.

Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.

The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.

A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.

Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

Parseltongue.

Memories/In Story Text.

Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal

By ACI100.

Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.

Chapter 11: Apologies and Admissions.

November 15th 1992.

The Great Hall.

8:23 AM.

Harry,

I find it astounding how a young man as brilliant as yourself can be so hopeless sometimes.

Firstly, if you still have a feeling of connection for this Greengrass, then she has clearly been a good friend to you in the past. As you alluded to in your letter, there is no way she could have known about your upbringing. You have adapted extremely well and it is very rare that it is truly noticeable. If she has made such a meaningful impact on you that you still feel a connection after an event like that, then you would be a fool to force her out because of one mistake. Personally, I think a young lady is perfectly within her right to tie a young man up and more for dressing them in a leotard in front of the entire school but in your case, I can see why that would be problematic.

You should definitely approach her. The fact that this happened over a week ago and she has not come to you is a fantastic sign. It means that she is likely remorseful and it means she cares enough to have observed you to a degree that she understands waiting for you is the better option. You should approach her when you are ready but don't leave it too long! The girl probably feels terrible and you're only dragging it on by waiting.

As for how you should deal with it, it is simple — be honest. I know that is difficult for you given your upbringing and you don't need to go into details, but be honest. Explain to her why that bothered you, at least in a vague sense. It will help her to understand that it was not an overreaction on your part but at the same time, she will realize she could have never known so she hopefully won't be overly guilty about it to the point that it keeps her up at night.

It is most worrying that a student has been attacked. Please keep me up to date on this and do not dare neglect to share information like you did last year. I cannot be helpful if you are hiding things from me. I am only trying to do the best for you and Neville.

Oh, and let me know if they find out who charmed that bludger please.

I hope you enjoy the coming weeks before Christmas and I am excited to see you again as well.

All the best,

Augusta

Harry read over the letter from Augusta with a deep frown of concentration. When he read her recommendation regarding how best to handle the Daphne situation, he felt his heart rate increase marginally as butterflies flitted in and out of his stomach. Frankly, that was not a conversation he was remotely ready to have. But then again, he had not been remotely ready to face Quirrell down in the catacombs last June and for all the dread it brought him, Augusta's points in favour of the idea were very, very difficult to argue with. There was also the fact that when it came to emotions, Harry was about as clueless as one could get. He would realistically trust most any decent person's plan over his in situations like the one he had found himself in at present.

"What'd Gran write to you for?" Neville asked curiously. "Usually, she'll write both of us unless it's specific."

Harry pursed his lips. "I shouldn't say." He answered. "It's nothing bad," he reassured his friend, "it's just a personal thing that's honestly not that big of a deal." It was true. To Harry, his friendship with Daphne was something precious. They were not the closest of friends, per se, but friendship was something he cherished after so many years without it. Plus, their relationship brought something that none of his others did. He enjoyed his conversations with Daphne in ways different to his other friends. By example. He knew from his lessons with Augusta that a friendship with Daphne, the Heiress to possibly the most powerful active House in Magical Britain was extremely beneficial politically. Truthfully though, Harry had not even considered the political ramifications. He just wanted his friend back, and there was no reason to complicate it beyond that.

Neville frowned but he did not ask questions. Harry was more secretive than he'd like, but he also understood that most of the time, he had good reasons for not telling him things and if the matter concerned him, he was sure his gran would have written to him as well.

Reaching into his bag, Harry slid out a piece of parchment and put his quill to it quickly. First making sure that nobody was attempting to read his draft over his shoulder, Harry began to write a letter that, in the grand scheme of things, was likely one of the more important ones he had ever penned to Augusta.

Augusta,

Thanks for your advice with Daphne. Honestly, I really don't want to admit that you're right, because that will be a positively dreadful conversation, but I know, just like most every other time, you probably are. I'll tell you how it goes when I do it; I'm going to do it this week. Best to get it over with, like you said.

I'm actually writing to you for another reason though. Dumbledore passed along an invitation for me. I don't think it's extended to you and Neville, but I could double check on that front. It is an invitation from Nicholas Flamel to attend his annual Gala held every Christmas Eve at his family home in France. Dumbledore always attends and has offered to take me there and back. I know you're not fond of Dumbledore, but he's honestly been super helpful this year. He's helped me with several academic projects and has even shed some light on the attacks, even though he did make me promise not to tell anybody about what he said.

What should I do about this invitation?

I have to respond by December 1st, but I'd like the input of people who know way more than me when it comes to politics and networking and all the rest.

Hope you enjoy the coming weeks too and like I said last letter, I can't wait to see you at Christmas.

Take care,

Harry.

"Must be more important than he's letting on," Ron said mockingly as he gently elbowed Neville, "he wrote a response right away."

Harry made a face at him. "That's not about what she sent me, dimwit, that's about something different."

"Watch who you're calling dimwit!" Ron bit back. "I know I'm not brilliant, but you've been helping me loads this year and you've said yourself I've gotten loads better."

It was true. To Ron's credit, his words at the end of last year in regards to his desire to improve academically and magically had not been spoken in vain. All three of Harry's friends had been spending quite a lot of time with him practicing and grilling their fourth member for information. It was clear to Harry that Ron had been putting in a titanic effort both in and outside of that time in particular. His work had grown in leaps and bounds and Harry thought he was quickly becoming one of the better students in their year at Charms. His wand, though not in a state at all similar to Neville's dad's from the year previous, did act up from time to time though. It was apparently Charlie's old wand and Harry did not need to ask Ron to know that it needed replacing. That was yet another thing to add to his to-do list; convince Ron's parents to let him pay for a new wand for his friend. Maybe they'd allow it as a Christmas present? Harry wasn't sure, but he knew who his next letter would be sent off to. It was clear to him that in spite of his somewhat rough exterior in some regards, Ron had heaps of potential. Due to Harry's difficult upbringing, the thought of his best mate, or anyone else for that matter, failing to reach their potential simply because of financial shortcomings left a positively vile taste in his mouth.

"Yeah, you have." He told Ron with a fond smile. "But until you catch up with me, I think I'll stick with dimwit, thank you very much."

Ron sighed. "Well, I'll just keep calling you a git until you can beat me at chess, so I guess we're even." This set all four of them into fits of laughter and Harry reflected that this was the perfect way to start a Sunday at Hogwarts.

November 16th 1992.

The Potions Classroom.

10:30 AM.

Snape, as had been the case since the Halloween feast, had been an absolute nightmare in Potions. As Harry had suspected, the bat suspected him wholeheartedly even if he had absolutely no evidence to support his theory. Of course, he was completely correct in his assumption, but that was in no way, shape or form the point.

Harry sighed with relief when he, Ron, Dean and Neville exited the classroom, only to tense in anticipation seconds later and tune out Ron's remark when he saw the taller blonde walking in front of them, accompanied by her much shorter companion. Harry hastened his pace as discreetly as possible and as he passed by Daphne, he did his best to shove the pre-written note into her hand. It was much more clumsy than when she and Tracey had pulled it off, but her delicate fingers closed around the note quickly enough and for the briefest of instances, her sapphire blue eyes flashed towards him with something akin to hope. Harry gave nothing away; she would find out more than he was comfortable with on Wednesday, so there was no need to reveal anything just yet.

November 16th 1992.

The Charms Classroom.

7:24 PM.

As was their standard practice nowadays, Flitwick had Harry run through several drills on footwork, dodging and accuracy before he got to the contents of the night's lesson. As it turned out, to Harry's delight, they would apparently be covering a new spell.

"This may be the most ambitious tool I have tried to help you add to your repertoire." Flitwick told Harry honestly. "I would never think of showing it to most third years, let alone second years. You've proven to be able to cast magic that I'd thought well, well above your grade level in the past though, so I have faith that you will be able to manage what I have ready for you tonight."

"What's the spell, Professor?"

"The spell, Mr. Potter, is the banishing hex." Flitwick smiled when he saw the widening of Harry's eyes. "Oh, you've heard of it?"

"I've read about it, sir." Harry answered honestly. "It's actually been on my list of spells I'd like to learn for awhile but I've been… distracted with other academic pursuits." Flitwick looked mildly curious at that proclamation but he did not press Harry. That was something he liked a great deal about the Charms Master of Hogwarts. He was the personification of professionalism and he never let that waver, not even for an instant.

"So, can you tell me anything about the charm then?" Flitwick asked.

Harry nodded. "It banishes something away from you, as the name implies. The book mentioned that this is one of the first charms that truly focuses on will power and visualization in a manner similar to Transfiguration. The wand movement is a sweep of one's wand away from themselves and the incantation is Depulso."

Flitwick positively beamed at his pupil. "Excellent, Mr. Potter, excellent indeed! Perfectly correct on all counts. You must visualize the intended result of the charm much like you would for a transfiguration. The only thing you truly neglected to mention is that it is possible to banish items of a vast scale, but to do so would require the overcharging of the spell." Flitwick waved his wand and a large, fluffy pile of white pillows materialized themselves in front of Harry. "For now, you will practice with these. " He told him, indicating the pillows at his feet. With another flick of his wand, baskets had been conjured on the far wall. "Just focus on getting the spell to work for now. Once you manage that, we will work on control, accuracy and efficiency. All of those things will take time no matter how prodigious you may be, so let us start with the basics."

Harry managed to get the charm down rather quickly, at least in terms of getting it to work. As Flitwick had hinted though, controlling the spell was much more difficult. By the end of their session, Harry could cast the spell every time, but his level of control was rather poor and he still needed to over exaggerate the wand motion. By the time Christmas rolled around, Flitwick wanted a minuscule wand movement and maximum control, though he set Harry to achieve these on his own for the most part. He would check in each lesson, but he wanted to teach Harry other spells and advance his knowledge on other things. It was no good to spend so much valuable time on one spell, was Flitwick's philosophy. Harry was not going to complain. He needed to improve and if in the very well-educated opinion of Professor Flitwick this was the best way to do it, then so be it.

November 18th 1992.

The Great Hall.

8:11 AM.

As the flood of owls poured into The Great Hall that Wednesday morning, Harry was already filled with nerves for what was to come later that day. When he saw Hedwig making her way down towards the Gryffindor table with what was likely Augusta's reply clamped between her talons, Harry honestly wasn't sure whether that eased or intensified the multitude of butterflies that had taken refuge in his stomach.

When Hedwig landed, Harry fed her a piece of bacon rather distractedly before removing the letter from Augusta and giving it a read.

Harry,

Frankly, if not for your stunt at the end of last year, I would be extremely suspicious. Flamel is apparently beyond selective with whom he invites to his galas conventions. Very, very few from England ever have the honour of attending. I do not believe our Minister has been invited since Millicent Bagnold lost the position, by example. With that being said, Flamel did take an interest in Dumbledore at an early age, so I imagine another up and coming prodigy has piqued the old man's interest. In addition, I'm sure you trying to save his beloved stone even though it was never truly in danger endeared you to him further.

I know very little about Nicholas Flamel beyond what the world knows as a whole. If your chat with Ms. Greengrass goes well, you may be able to ask her. I do not believe the Greengrasses typically attend, but they have dealt with Flamel in the past in potions dealings and such, I am sure, so they may have a more accurate idea.

Even in saying that, it would be foolish to turn down such an invitation. Ask your friend what she knows when you are on good terms once more but don't have her ask her parents to make inquiries; they can be tracked. If she can give you more information, all the better, if not, oh well. Regardless, I expect you to have a letter of acceptance drafted and sent off by the start of next week. You will send me the draft for approval before it is sent off to the Flamels.

Again, you would be a fool to turn down such an invitation.

Please write to me in regards to the outcome of your chat with Ms. Greengrass.

You'll do fine,

Augusta

Harry quirked his eyebrow. He knew Flamel was a big deal, but he would have to read up on the man. He had never heard Augusta speak so in favour of anything before.

November 18th 1992.

An Abandoned Classroom.

8:02 PM.

For the first time ever, Harry showed up two minutes late to his meeting with Daphne. He wasn't even sure why he did it, but it just felt like the right thing to do. When he entered their usual meeting place, Daphne was waiting for him, pacing back and forth with her hands clasped in front of her chest. When she heard the sound of the door closing, she paused, turning slowly to face him as her sapphire eyes sought him out. "Harry?"

"Daphne." He answered, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

There was a long, tense pause before Daphne mustered up the courage to speak. "Are you… upset with me?"

Harry pondered the question; he wanted to assure that it was answered honestly. "Not really," he answered truthfully, "I'm upset that you would just attack me to be honest, but I'm guessing you thought that I was behind the leotards, so it's not actually that harsh if you just look at it that way."

Daphne's eyes widened. "Are you telling me you weren't responsible for that atrocity?" Her voice was measured, but Harry could tell she did not believe him even if she was keeping her voice level.

"Mostly," he sighed. At least now, he was confident she would not attack him after how that had ended last time. "None of my friends nor me were directly responsible for the leotards." He winced. "I… uh, say directly because we were sort of in a competition with the Weasley twins. Long story short, we started pranking each other because of something that happened at the welcoming feast; that's why Peeves flew into the potions class that one day. Anyways, that escalated way further than any of us meant for it to, so we decided on no more pranks against each other. The way we would end it was by each pulling a prank at the feast; one by the twins and one by me, Ron, Dean and Neville as a group." Harry winced again. "So, I guess I am sort of responsible for that, but I promise I had no idea what the prank was that the twins were going for. They didn't know ours either, it was sort of the point."

Again, a long pause before Daphne answered. "I believe you," she sighed, sounding almost regretful, "I'm still mildly upset that you didn't warn me about that because honestly, once you were off their list of targets, I'd have thought it obvious the terrors would go for Slytherin House." Harry had to suppress a smile at her nickname for the twins; it was apt, but rather amusing. He did not think smiling would be the best thing to do right now though, so he resisted the urge and nodded.

"Fair enough," he told her, "I'm forgiven, then?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "That might be the most Slytherin thing you've ever done and you don't even realize you've done it."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"You asked me to forgive you when you have the obvious moral high ground and you asked me before addressing the elephant in the room. I can't really say no without looking like a terrible person. You've effectively trapped me without even realizing you've done so."

Harry blinked. "I… uh, didn't really mean it like that."

"I know you didn't," Daphne said with another roll of her eyes, "it's equal parts impressive and infuriating." She sighed. "But yes, I forgive you. But in the future, I expect warning if you know the terrors or yourselves are going to pull anything like that off again."

Harry grinned in spite of his nerves; he couldn't help it. "Got it." He told her, suddenly noticing how his pulse quickened as the tension in the room thickened considerably. He had no idea how to broach the subject of the "elephant in the room" as Daphne had called it. Thankfully, he did not have to, as Daphne seemed to pick up on this and decided to gently guide the conversation in that general direction.

"I'm sorry, Harry. There really isn't any other way for me to say it. I'm not going to pretend that I know you overly well or anything, but I saw the way you reacted to even dancing at the ball last year. I should have known that a spell like that wasn't the best of ideas."

Harry could tell that Daphne had been considering if not practicing those exact words for some time. If he were being honest, he was grateful for the fact. They were genuine, he could tell that from the look in her eyes and honestly, if she stuttered over an apology, it would make this whole thing a lot harder.

Harry sighed. "I get it," he told her, "for most people, you would've just hit them with the spell until they answered your questions. It would have been a fair way to get your revenge seeing as you thought they were responsible for embarrassing you in public." He paused, trying to collect himself in an effort to not suddenly morph into a stuttering mess the likes of which Quirrell would be proud of. "There was no way you could have known, I understand that. You can say you saw me at the ball all you want, but you could never have guessed half of what led to that reaction." He paused once more, taking a deep breath and using Occlumency to keep his mind under control. "From what you just said, I'm taking it you've put the pieces together?"

Daphne bit her lip. "I… think so." Her voice was quiet. It did not shake, but it didn't sound like it was far off either. "I don't know the specifics but… I would guess you didn't have the best childhood."

Harry appraised her for a moment before slowly nodding. "I am not getting into vivid details." He told her. "I'm sorry, but just no." She nodded her understanding. "Let's just say that I am very, very lucky that I landed with the Longbottom family when I did." Daphne's eyes widened at that. Harry Potter's location was a tightly kept secret when not at Hogwarts. "They've treated me like a member of the family since the day I met them and I can't be more grateful than I am, especially after what came before it." He took another pause, this time fending off some rather unpleasant memories. In particular, the ones that took place following the catastrophe that had been the London Zoo.

"What came before?" Daphne prompted gently. She was not prodding, but she was also rather adept at reading people in conversation. She could tell Harry wanted to go on, so she pushed him ever so slightly in that general direction.

He nodded, shaking his head slowly as if to clear it. "I... didn't meet the Longbottoms until I was almost eleven." Daphne did not gasp, but judging by the rare widening of her brilliant blue eyes, it had been a near miss. "For the nine and a bit years between Halloween 1981 and the day I met Neville and his grandmother, I lived with muggles. My mother's sister and her family, to be exact." He specified when Daphne had looked shocked. He grimaced. "Have you ever heard the expression, humans fear what they do not understand?" Daphne nodded. "That could very easily be applied to my uncle when it comes to magic." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as Daphne inhaled sharply, he really did. He did not think he was overly successful, but he had made the effort.

"Did they…" Daphne cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Sorry," she said meekly, "that's not my-"

"It's alright." Harry said darkly. "Given why we're having this conversation, it was bound to come up at some point. Did they hurt me? Did they physically attack me? Did they try to stamp the magic out of me? Yes, all of the above and more than that as well." His voice was no longer bitter as Daphne reared back as if struck. Instead, it was merely hollow and devoid of any and all emotion whatsoever. "My aunt was rarely involved; it was usually my bastard of an uncle." He winced. "I got my hands on a journal of my mother's this summer from my trust vault and from what I can tell, my aunt never feared magic, but she was terribly jealous of my mother for having it when she didn't." Daphne nodded, slowly, almost nervously. "She was never involved, I think she was too guilty. But she also never made any attempts to stop it.

"Between the two of us, I'd really rather not be saying any of this right now, but honestly, me and the person I asked for advice on this think it's probably necessary." He met Daphne's eyes for the first time during their conversation and Daphne shivered. The look in his eyes was almost unhinged. It was unmistakably vulnerable but at the same time, there was a fiery determination and passion there as well. "There is nothing I hate more than being helpless." He told her bluntly, almost wincing as she recoiled. "I have never met a Boggart but if I did, I would bet a hefty sum of galleons it would somehow take the form of me, helpless, powerless and vulnerable." He broke eye contact. "You can imagine how I felt when hit from behind with a curse that wouldn't let me move a muscle to defend myself. I… kind of panicked."

The silence that followed his words was longer than any thus far and for several scarce moments, Harry thought it would stretch on forever. He was rather proud of his composure during that explanation. Occlumency had been a huge help, as had the hours he had spent over the past number of days rehearsing much of that speech over and over again in his mind. There was a dam building within him that wanted so badly to shatter, but he did not allow it.

Harry came back to reality when he felt a presence nearby. Slowly, he peered at Daphne, who was now standing directly in front of him, looking a bit downwards as to meet his eyes. There was a searching look there, as if asking for permission to do something. Harry only realized what it was when she tentatively mimed the opening of her arms. After a hesitation and a moment for him to muster up some of that courage his House was renowned for, Harry nodded slowly, allowing Daphne to step forward and wrap her arms around him tightly. Harry took several seconds to control his emotions and assure himself all was well before he allowed his control to slip marginally. He let his head fall onto Daphne's shoulder as he slowly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in return. Only when his face was hidden did he allow emotion to show. He did not cry, but he did allow several long, shaky breaths to escape him. They spent about a minute in that position before slowly, Harry stepped back and pulled his emotions back under control.

"I'm sorry," Daphne repeated, and her eyes shone with the truth of her statement.

Harry shrugged. "You couldn't have known." Then, he allowed a small, hesitant smile to cross his lips. "Hey, you've been calling me Harry this whole time!"

Daphne stiffened. "I most certainly have not." She fired back.

He smirked. "Well then, Greengrass, I know one way you can make all of this up to me."

Daphne paused, eyes narrowing. "And how would that be?"

"For the love of Merlin, call me Harry." And just like that, the tension had been broken as both of them began to laugh even before Daphne inevitably agreed at long last.

November 19th 1992.

The DADA Classroom.

2:20 PM.

Gilderoy Lockhart sighed as the members of the last period's class made their exit. He was relieved with the conclusion of every lesson. He really wasn't cut out for teaching, but he had hoped something would happen at Hogwarts this year that may be warranted another best seller. Frankly, this business with the attacks had potential, but it did not seem that anyone was close to solving the mystery. When Lockhart heard somebody shuffling in front of him, his baby blue eyes snapped up and locked upon the girl in question. She was a favourite of his. She was positively brilliant and he barely had to teach the class. Just ask questions and let her answer for him. And her wand work… she would be something else in a few years. Something worth looking into for certain — investing in, even.

"Ah, Ms. Weasley, what can I do for you, my dear?" Ginny hesitated, blushing under her professor's gaze. Lockhart chuckled. "There is no need to be nervous, my dear. I am here to help."

Ginny took a deep breath before speaking, not even daring to open her eyes. "I was w-w-wondering, Professor, what you knew about advanced potions?"

Lockhart paused, his brain reeling for an explanation but coming up empty. "I know a great deal, of course," he lied easily, "what is it you're looking for, Ms. Weasley?"

The girl looked even more nervous now. "Well s-s-sir, I was w-w-wondering what you know about P-P-Polyjuice Potion?"

Lockhart froze. He knew nothing about how to make it, but every one knew about Polyjuice Potion regardless of their ability within the field. "I'm afraid I've never brewed it, Ms. Weasley." He told her. "I know of it, of course, but you should really consult a book or perhaps Professor Snape."

She shrank back from him. "He wouldn't answer me s-s-sir, and no book I've found has the answers either; I think they're all in The Restricted Section."

And then it clicked; the perfect way to get in the good graces of somebody who could be great in the world in a few, short years. "Why, Ms. Weasley, you only ever needed to ask me for a permission slip!" He said brightly, scrambling back to his desk to quickly write one out with his eagle feather quill. He did like signing autographs. Or signing anything, for that matter. He didn't know why, but it always gave him a rather intense form of pleasure. For a nanosecond, he internalized how foolish and irresponsible this was, but the girl truly was brilliant and earning a place in her good books… Yes, it would all work out.

"Here you are, Ms. Weasley." He told her a moment later, handing her the slip before pausing. "I would be… profoundly grateful if you did not share how you got this with anybody. It would be very frowned upon for me to give you this based on your age, but I have seen what you are capable of. I expect great things from you, Ms. Weasley, and I will do anything needed to help you on your way."

Ginny smiled a wide, charming smile as she took the slip. "Thank you, Professor." She said, beaming for a few seconds longer before exiting the room. Only when she had exited did a small, cruel, satisfied smirk adorn her features.

The Night Previous.

The Library.

8:34 PM.

Hermione let out a hiss of frustration just as her and Ginny finished their respective books in unison. "There's nothing!" Hermione hissed angrily. "There are no leads about any potential Heirs to Slytherin anytime after the 1920's. This is absurd!"

Ginny nodded and smiled apathetically back at her friend. "We could always try and find out in other ways, you know?"

Hermione paused, a look of interest spreading across her face. "Oh, did you have any ideas?"

"Well," Ginny said in a slow, measured voice, "it's probably safe to assume the person is a Slytherin." Hermione nodded; she was not one for bigotry but the hat had granted her choice of Gryffindor. With that in mind, it was reasonable to believe it would do the same for others and she imagined an Heir of Slytherin would argue intensely for the house of their ancestor. "Well, this might be a bit extreme, but have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion?"

November 20th 1992.

The Headmaster's Office.

9:12 PM.

Harry slumped in his chair as he concluded yet another Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore. He did not hold that posture for long. Instead, he straightened up quickly and met Dumbledore's gaze once more. "Sir, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the invitation and possibly Nicholas Flamel?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I had suspected the topic may arise. I will of course refrain from answering anything about Nicholas that I view as being too personal, but aside from that, I shall answer your questions."

"I was told he took an interest in you at a very young age. If it's not too personal, sir, is that true?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "It is indeed, but I was most certainly older than twelve. It was the summer after my O.W.L exams when Nicholas first contacted me. He was rather enthralled by the reports on my Transfiguration exam and we have kept in touch for nearly a century since."

"Did he tutor you or anything?"

"He did indeed. If you will forgive my lack of modesty, Harry, I have built up quite a legend over the years through my numerous accolades and accomplishments." He shared an almost conspiratorial smile with Harry. "Between the two of us, the legend of Albus Dumbledore does not exist without the help of Nicholas Flamel."

"Do you think that's why he's interested in me, sir?"

"Because you are yet another young prodigy, you mean?" Harry nodded. "Partially, yes, but there is much more to it than that, I believe. I believe Nicholas finds it most interesting that I have decided to take you on as what his eyes is an apprentice. And yes, I have told him about our lessons in Occlumency. Trust me when I tell you that I would trust Nicholas with my life. He shall never reveal the secret to anyone." Harry could accept that. "There is also the matter of his Philosopher's Stone. Of course, now you know it was never truly in danger, but I do believe the tale of a young Harry Potter, the very same boy who had already bested Lord Voldemort once before chasing after the same man ten years later to save Nicholas's most prized possession piqued his interest." Dumbledore frowned. "There are other, more personal reasons he is interested in you, but I shall not reveal them. I will tell you this, however. I promise you with the utmost sincerity that none of them even dwell within the realm of being sinister. Nicholas is a better man than I and his intentions are noble and pure."

Harry nodded again, mulling all of that over in his mind as he tried to mentally draft his letters to both Augusta and Flamel. It appeared as though his life had just become a lot more interesting.

Author's Endnote:

A rather emotional chapter, huh?

That Daphne scene took me ages to write but oh well, we got there in the end.

All of the stuff with Ginny, Hermione and Lockhart will make perfect sense by the end of the year, just have patience.

An additional shoutout to Discord user Luq707 for his additional edits on this chapter.

Please read and review.

PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, May 24th 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.