Just to let you know, this takes place after the first Harry Potter book but way before the Alchemyst series starts. Sometimes, I just laugh at the ideas I have. Either Dee or Machiavelli are Voldemort? Where'd I come up with that?


Perenelle was cleaning her teeth in the bathroom in the Flamel's San Francisco flat when a face appeared in the mirror. At first Perenelle jumped back, but then she realised who it was.

"Albus?" she leaned in closer to the mirror, grinning. "You've grown your beard! Last time I saw it, it was just a bush of hair around your face."

"And you, Perenelle," the figure in the mirror smiled. "Have not aged a day."

"What is your reason for calling?"

"It's about the stone," Albus Dumbledore's face went grim and the Sorceress copied the look.

"I will get Nicholas."

The woman stepped out of the view of the mirror. Albus took a few deep breaths in. This was somewhat bad news he was havering and his face needed to be as straight as possible. Flamel was far older than the Wizard, and he was the only man in the world that still made Albus feel like a child, in spite of how he looked.

The Alchemyst walked up to the mirror and leaned on the sink. "What is this about the stone?" he said. Albus was surprised that the man's voice now had a slight American accent, not like the very British voice the Wizard had grown to know.

"It was found," Dumbledore sighed. "By a wizard."

"I told you once before, Albus," the Alchemyst started, leaning on the edge the bathtub behind him. "The term 'wizard' means nothing to me. The way I stand, anybody could be a 'wizard'."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, remembering. "You're right. But this is no ordinary wizard. This was a servant to the Dark Lord."

Flamel looked quizzically at the man in the mirror. How could he possibly know about Dee, or Machiavelli? More probably the Italian in these modern times. And what would they want with the stone? They had enough money already. It seemed more sense to ask. "Dark Lord?"

The Professor looked to his sides, checking he was save to say. "A man previously called Tom Riddle, now known as Lord Voldemort."

The Achemyst shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't help, Albus. If it was found, it is your fault. I told you it should have been destroyed. The moment you kept it more than it was needed, it was more dangerous than ever. People started searching for the mythical stone that would grant their wishes. I had heard it for myself that it was true. And now you are telling me about the problem that you made yourself."

Dumbledore bent his head like a child who had just been scorn. "Sorry," his whispered. "Sorry for the trouble Nicholas. I just thought you would like to know."

Flamel started laughing. "It's ok, Albus. You're the only person on earth that treats me for my age, not looks. Now, was anybody hurt?"

"All except one boy," Albus smiled.

"Boy?" that word had started Flamel worrying. "How and why was I boy in your secret hiding place, filled with traps?"

"The boy is ok, Flamel, just a bit beaten up. He went down there to stop the criminal stealing the stone."

Flamel shook his head once more. "But you put in traps to prevent people going about collecting the stone alone. Who was with the boy?"

"His friends," Albus said proudly. "The three of them are the bravest bunch of eleven-year-olds I have met in my time."

"Eleven-year-olds? Albus, you just can't let those kids do things like that."

Dumbledore's face went grim once more. "But the boy was know ordinary boy. He escaped being killed by the Dark Lord. That..."

"That is no reason that he should be so bold. He should be more weary than anyone for that. This 'Dark Lord' seems dangerous and if the boy narrowly missed a killing once, this 'Voldemort' will try again. And if he does, the boy won't get past death many more times."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Says the man who cheated death for more than six-hundred years."