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.
"Yeah, it's kind of moronic that you thought introducing me to the people you were planning to fuck over and betray was anything close to a good idea," I said, shaking my head at him even as I walked deeper into the room.
"I did not anticipate that Nicholas would tell another his secrets, much less one such as you with such suspect motivations. No one knows what you are or what you believe, and yet Nicholas felt fine giving you the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone. He has proven me correct once again. He is not the right person to be trusted with the stewardship of a treasure like this one," he said, reaching over to pick up the stone. His hand froze mid-air as I showed that while he was fast, my draw and cast were faster still—my piercing curse sailed through the hair between him and the stone, making it clear that I would be tolerating no bullshit here.
"Stewardship? What a silly word to use. Flamel made the stone. It is his to use as he sees fit."
"Then, by that same argument, would this particular stone not be mine to use as I see fit?"
"Don't be pedantic. Nicholas designed the runic matrix you used here. He came up with the idea; he figured everything out. Your hands might have done the physical laying of the bricks, but can you truly say you made that stone? If I wiped this all away, would you be able to make another one?" I asked.
"It matters not. Nicholas Flamel is a scourge upon this earth, and it will be better without him. Now tell me, what is it that he offered you? Some vials of the elixir? Gold? Definitely not gold, then. The elixir. If it is the elixir, then I will double whatever Nicholas promised you," he said.
"Well, that's interesting. Convince me then. If Nicholas Flamel, the maker of the damn thing, does not deserve this stone, then why should you?" I gave myself more than good odds against Russo in a duel, but there was no need to force things now when I could get even more information about this whole thing. Like how the hell did Nicholas Flamel even get involved with this Julian Russo fellow in the first place?
"Because I will use this properly. Do you know what this stone truly is? It's more than just a source for the elixir. It is a magic battery of a grade so high that it allows you to break any of the laws of magic. You could raise the recently dead with this just as surely as you could turn lead to gold. You could use this to solve famines all over the world. You could put an end to wars, strife, hunger, all that. And Nicholas Flamel uses it to extend the life he and his wife enjoy while the world suffers around him. Two thousand years here and nothing. No good has come from his life here, and nothing will come from it if we just let him continue on as he always has." He sounded so passionate, like one of those activists from my old life who genuinely thought the world could become a better place if they just shouted at enough people loudly enough. But unlike them, it didn't reach his eyes.
"Forgive me if I don't believe all this happy-go-lucky bullshit you're spewing in my direction, Russo. You want the stone for something else. Not to make the world better, because we both know you're shoveling shit when it comes to that."
"Fine. But what does it matter to you either way what I use it for? I am offering to double what Flamel offered, and you don't even have to do anything to get that reward. Just turn around and walk away. If you're half as smart as you think you are, then you'd take the deal without hesitation," he said.
I drew my wand instead, making it obvious that it was pointed at him.
"Yeah, no. The alchemist and I have a deal, and you will come to learn today that Doom does not go back on his word," I said, enjoying using my true name for the first time in this world. Before today, I had to hold back, pretending to still be Potter because those I interacted with had the potential to ruin things for me. Not this man. This man would either die here, or I would.
"Doom?" he asked, looking confused. I took the chance to aim a potshot at his head. He ducked underneath it and then twisted his body to face me fully. He had drawn his wand now—he was yet to point it at me, simply holding it off to the side, but it was clear that he was ready to react to another attack. Good. This would be no fun if he didn't fight back.
I twisted my wand, sending two piercing curses at him. Or at least trying to. They fizzled out the second they left my wand, exploding into harmless sparks as his counter-curse took hold. I changed tacks, using a blasting curse next, but that fizzled out as well.
"You begin duels with piercing curses 90% of the time. The other 10% have you using some version of the blasting curse. If you want to beat me, Potter, you will have to try harder than that," he said, a slick smile on his face almost mocking me with its presence. Interesting.
I spun into a disarming charm that fizzled out as well. "Too predictable," he chided, before returning fire with a tickling jinx of all things. I scowled as I slapped it aside. What the hell was that? Was he somehow in my mind? I checked my Occlumency even as I dodged away from another tickling jinx. I tried to force his attention away with a cutting curse, but that fizzled out as well.
What were the odds? He was predicting my next spell so well that it was like he could see the future. Was that it, then? Masking divination as probabilistic study. Good to get me focused on the wrong things, trying to vary my spell choices and overthinking everything when I was just facing someone who had the ability to see the future.
I needed some way to test that. To see if he was truly predicting my next spells based on studying me or if he could just divine what I was going to do next. Of course, I had no idea what I would do if it turned out the latter, rather than the former, was true. How did you even beat someone who could see what you were about to do? Make it so it doesn't matter, most likely.
I stepped to the side of a disarmer and countered with an organ-rupturing curse. This time, he shielded against the curse. That was one point in favor of my first theory. I'd never used anything that dark in this tournament or even during the Triwizard. Of course, there was no way for him to see it coming. Well, this was all assuming that he wasn't doing this to get me into some false sense of security that he could take advantage of later on.
Fuck it. There was nothing for it. I followed the organ-rupturing curse with a blood-boiling, and then a blood-freezing curse cast so quickly that he had only the time to strengthen his shield before the two dark spells hit. And then I was there with a skin-liquefying curse that he barely managed to dodge out of the way of. I followed it up with a Romanian flaying curse. This one he deflected. Ooh, I could see him getting on his back foot now.
"Did you seriously think that what I showed off in the tournament was my end-all, be-all?" I asked, nearly chuckling at the thought.
"Pardon me if I didn't expect a fourteen-year-old to be showing off Romanian flaying curses," he spat back from his position to the side.
"Like it? I've got a bit more where that came from," I said, and then sent an Egyptian desiccation curse for good measure. He rolled along the ground, managing to avoid that one as it hit the ground and the stones around it began to dry and crack.
"You're not Harry Potter. No matter what you or your Godfather say, there is no way you managed to learn all these in a year. Who the hell are you?"
"Aren't you paying attention, Russo? I am your Doom," I said with a grand chuckle. He tried a cutting curse, and I flicked it back in his direction before following it up with one of my own. He shielded both and then was sent flying by a bombardment spell.
He rolled backwards, finding his feet again.
He twisted his wand and sent a spell I did not recognize. I dodged it just to be safe, and it streaked past. He then sent another one that I dodged as well, but that proved to be the wrong choice as even the sensation of the spell passing me by felt like being punched in the throat.
I just barely put up an aegis shield to block the next spell. It spread over the shield like it was some sort of infection, black tendrils spreading from the point of impact until they reached all the corners of the shield, and then to my shock, Russo wrenched his wand to the side, and my shield followed, shattering into a million motes of light.
So shocked I was that I could do nothing but dodge the next spell. And like its predecessor, dodging it felt painful. There was only one spell I knew of that had a similar effect, but I knew it was not that one he was using. Eris' Dagger was a very noticeable spell when it was cast, and that definitely hadn't felt like that one should have. I moved backwards, trying to create more distance between us so I would have more space to react, a movement I was forced to cease as I felt the ground behind and beneath me turn to ice.
I breathed out, and fire bloomed. This time, it was not Fiendfyre or cursed blood flames, but the fires from hell themselves that wrapped themselves around me in a circle, melting the ice, evaporating the resulting water into steam, and then speeding around into a shield around me. The fire fought me just as much as it fought its surroundings, but I had stubbornness in spades, and my magic would never be my undoing. I watched the look on Russo's face, even as I felt my magic beginning to run out.
I pointed at him, relaxing my grip on the cursed flames just a bit, and they swarmed. Two basilisks and a dragon formed from the flames, heading for my opponent. He danced backwards, forcing the dragon back with a swing of his wand. With another wand motion, he lifted walls in front of the basilisks to hold them back. Walls that only held up for a couple of seconds each, and then he was forced between all three of them again.
He began a complicated wand movement that would have done... something, but I wasn't all that interested in seeing what he could cook up. Instead, I released my hold on the flames from hell and shot a disarming charm right at him. Without my strict hold on them, the fires spiked, going out of control for a brief moment and drawing all of his attention.
He didn't manage to dodge the disarmer, and the fires swallowed him whole a second later. While they ate their fill with him, I reasserted dominance. A feat that was much harder than any could really express. Controlling Fiendfyre could best be described as trying to forge something by gathering the molten iron with your bare hands.
Controlling Fiendfyre that had been let out of control—even briefly? Well, that was more like trying to forge molten iron with bare hands while drinking lava and dipping your balls in acid. Needless to say, it was a far from pleasant experience, especially when the flames had their eyes set on an inviting target of magic—the Philosopher's Stone, which I was only just managing to prevent the fire from consuming. With how hungry Fiendfyre could be and how much magic there was inside the stone, I doubted most other people would have been able to sate the fires from hell before they got their fill. But I had a ritual-enhanced affinity for both fire and the dark arts that allowed me to do what most would consider impossible. Even if just barely.
With an exhale, I allowed the fires to calm, forcing them to still and snuff themselves out even as they fought me every step of the way. As I sent the Fiendfyre back to the realm from which I had called it, it fought me for every second of space, every half-second of time.
But thankfully, the fire died with a hiss. I turned to the stone but fell to my knees instead. Yup, the pepper-up had basically worn off through this duel. Using the Fiendfyre had been a last-minute gamble. He'd probably been able to tell that keeping me engaged for even a few more minutes would probably have guaranteed his victory. Sadly, it didn't play out for him the way he must have expected it to.
I walked towards the dais, finding the stone was shockingly warm to the touch—warm and pulsing like it was almost alive.
So this was the Philosopher's Stone. It was a deep blood red and looked like a crystal more than anything else. And then there were its jagged edges. Edges through which a liquid of some sort seemed to seep out. I pocketed the thing in my robe, thanking Russo for having an undetectable expansion charm included in the pockets. It was a luxury that he need not have sprung for, but it was proving its use now. I turned to the rest of the chamber, taking note of what runes remained.
The Fiendfyre had burned some of them off the ground entirely, so I would have to find a Pensieve or something similar if I wanted to get the script in full detail. That was a concern for later, I thought, as I began to leave. I took the compass out of my pocket, and thinking of Nicholas Flamel, began to follow its directions.
While part of me just wanted to get some rest and call it a day—a long day—the rest of me wanted to get it all over and done with. That part was supported by the fact that I also wasn't all that comfortable just walking about with something as valuable as the fucking Philosopher's Stone in my pocket. Great duelist or not, I had no illusions about what would happen if word of that somehow—implausible as it seemed—got out. I wouldn't last an hour. Bounty hunters, glory seekers, wannabe dark lords, and every idiot with a wand would portkey in here aiming for my head.
Nicholas Flamel, thankfully, wasn't all that far away from the stadium. In fact, he was in the hotel closest to the stadium, not all that far from the one that Sirius and I stayed in.
"Come in," I heard the voice before I could knock on the door. A tracking charm on the compass, perhaps? My enchanting skills were nowhere close to good enough for me to get even the vaguest impression of how the compass worked beyond the fact that it did.
I opened the door, taking stock of the room in no time. They didn't occupy a penthouse suite like Sirius and I did, but theirs was no less luxurious for it. Next to a smoking fireplace sat Nicholas with a tome of some sort open on his lap. Deeper in the suite, I could hear Perenelle mucking about.
"Julian?" he asked the second the door swung closed behind me.
"Dead," I said, walking deeper into the room and taking the seat across from him once he pointed it out to me.
"What a shame. He was a bright one, you know? Easily the brightest one I've had since Albus," he said next, making me freeze. I looked over at him. That wasn't an accidental admission. He had kept it from me initially, and now he was letting it slip. Not just that Julian Russo had been his apprentice, but that he had had more than one since Dumbledore. The only question was why? Why tell me now? I guess there was only one way to find out.
"Russo was your apprentice?"
"Of course. How else would he have known about the Stone? I tell all my apprentices the secret to making a Philosopher's Stone. It's one of the first things I do—might be a preliminary test, if you will," he said next, and I began to wonder if I was reading too much into things or if he was saying what I thought he was saying. But then—
"If you tell all your apprentices how to make a Philosopher's Stone, then how come we don't hear about them all that often? I assume word would have somehow gotten out if more people had stones like yours."
"Stones like mine, hmm?" he said with a chuckle before sobering up.
"Well, because after I tell them how to make a stone, I tell them that I will kill them if they ever try. Usually, I don't even have to do it myself. Oftentimes, my next apprentice proves himself by killing my previous," he said. Yup. He was saying what I thought he was.
A/N: Yes, we get Sith Lord Nicholas Flamel in this story. Wondering how everything fits together? It's him. It's all him. 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.