Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel Series. Throughout this story, there will be references to scenes from the Harry Potter series. If I show them, I will reference them. But for the ones I just mention and the ones I forget: I don't own them
A/N: I am not explaining either world in this fan fiction. It is likely that you will need to have read the first book of each series to understand the main plot of this story. There will also be inside jokes that will require the reader to have read the entire Harry Potter series. These are not necessary to understand the story, but I find them funny.
Anyway, with that out of the way: Enjoy.
Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared on a dark, Paris side street, causing one of the poor, muggle house cats nearby to quickly scramble out of the way. Dumbledore felt pity on the cat for a split second, but then he thought about what might go down and thought that the cat was probably far better off scared and away than if he stayed here.
The truth was that Dumbledore didn't know what was about to happen. He had not attempted to contact his "friend" in ages; not since it happened. Not since the man had driven her crazy. But he had no choice now. He had to do it.
Dumbledore closed his eyes and reached into a past he had forgotten. He felt a tingle shoot up his old arms, sending goose bumps shooting across his entire body. He began to feel, truly feel. The wind became stronger, the noises became sharper, he could taste the lemon snap he had two days ago (he made a mental note to brush his teeth more), and he could make out the faint smell of peppermint nearby, already blending into the surrounding environment.
The old man reached further back and spread out his arms. A faint silver energy appeared around him. Flames, slowly at first, engulfed his fingertips and began to grow up his fingers, up his hands and finally engulfing his lower arms. He turned and the flames left his body, weakly circling around him like a firewall. Dumbledore smiled, that would be a great name for a security company. The firewall dissolved, leaving the distinct and incredibly strong smell of used parchment. The old man coughed and hacked at the smell. It had been so long since he had used that.
He walked slowly down the small, suburban street, pondering all the unique muggle flower pots and balconies that dotted the otherwise mundane and boring walls of the town homes on either side of him. He sighed. He did miss the enhanced senses, but his separation from this world was unavoidable and necessary. As was his return.
He stepped up to the front door of house number 12 and knocked. He chuckled to himself as he waited, wondering what Sirius would think if he knew which house Flamel had chosen. Dumbledore waited for 10 minutes before he pulled out his wand and whispered "Alohomora," causing the door to unlock. Albus gently pushed it open.
The scene which met him was complete disaster. The house was completely torn up. There was stuffing everywhere from the couches and chairs which had been turned over and torn apart, no doubt from magic. There were scratches all over the walls where spells or knives, or maybe just table legs, had appeared to have hit the wall. The ceiling was threatening to cave in and a chandelier had already come crashing to the ground. In the kitchen, there were still pots and pans flying around, battling each other to the death.
Dumbledore sniffed the air and nearly choked from the overwhelming smell of peppermint. "Nicholas, come out. I'm not going to hurt you," he said smiling, putting away his wand and stepping into the living room. Suddenly the air in the room seemed to vanish. All the stuff in the room; stuffing, broken pieces of furniture, lots and lots of books which had fallen from broken bookcases, pieces of drywall, even the chandelier; got sucked toward a central spot. Dumbledore whipped out his wand and cast a defensive shield in front of him just as the center of the room exploded and sent all of the things it had captured flying out and sticking them in the walls. The shield protected Dumbledore from the debris, though the chandelier gave it a good test.
"Nicholas I'm not here to hurt you!" Dumbledore shouted into the room.
"How can I know that for sure," a voice that Dumbledore vaguely recognized as Nicholas's replied. "How do I know you haven't sworn loyalty to them?"
"I'm not that desperate," Dumbledore said.
"You're desperate enough to come here," Flamel said.
"Please, just give me a chance. I'll submit to any terms you ask," Dumbledore replied.
Silence met this statement and Dumbledore waited anxiously for a response. Finally a woman appeared in the far doorway looking calmly at Dumbledore. "You will give me your wand and I will stand ready to attack while you speak to him," she said.
"My lady Perenelle, you look beautiful as ever," Dumbledore said, handing over his wand. Finally, Nicholas Flamel morphed out of a recliner in the far corner, one which had escaped destruction though it was certainly buried in debris. He was young, thirty perhaps, with long black hair cut close to his head and pale, colorless eyes. He was wearing a loose black shirt, advertising a concert which had taken place a few months ago. Dumbledore had wanted to go too, but he had a war to fight.
Nicholas studied Dumbledore, scrutinizing every inch of his elderly figure as if looking for a single flake of skin that was out of place. Finally he seemed satisfied. He motioned for his wife to give Dumbledore his wand back which she did.
"Trusting so quickly," Albus chided.
"If you were immortal now, you'd be much younger," Nicholas chided back. "Besides, if we're going to talk, my flat needs repairing. You're magic is better at that than mine."
"Always the charmer," Dumbledore said, waving his wand and sending all the debris back to its original home. "I was worried that Voldemort had gotten to you first."
"He has tried," Flamel said. "But he is new at this game, he was easy to evade. Besides, if Riddle had come calling, the Dark Mark would have been above the house."
"True, I hadn't thought of that. I'll have to remember it," Dumbledore said, sitting on the newly repaired sofa. The Flamels sat across from him on two recliners. Perenelle still appeared ready to attack at any moment. Dumbledore put away his wand. "I was under the impression that Riddle was made an immortal."
"He was," Nicholas said. "But rumor has it that he was declared utlaga recently. Trust me; he will be mortal again soon. You have no idea the power of a fully awakened immortal with five hundred years experience."
Dumbledore said nothing until Nicholas prodded him. "The Elder's protection may be released, but he will not be mortal. He has backup plans, probably more than one. You do not know Riddle like I do Nicholas. He will not be easy to defeat. That is why I have come here, in fact."
"What is?" Nicholas asked.
"To ask you to come and teach at Hogwarts and help me defeat Riddle forever," Dumbledore said.
"Have you lost your mind?" Nicholas asked.
"I believe I still have it right here," Dumbledore said, pointing to his head.
"Albus, I have been on the run for over 600 years, I'm not about to announce to the world where I will be living for even a day, let alone a year!" Nicholas said.
"Oh, you will be given an alias of course, and a new looks if you'd like. Anything is possible with my magic," Dumbledore said.
Nicholas sat for a moment and pondered the proposal. "Why?" he asked finally.
"Why what?" Dumbledore replied, sipping a cup of tea he had conjured.
"Why ask me?" Nicholas said. "We weren't exactly on good speaking terms when we last parted ways. How is Ariana by the way?"
"Dead," Dumbledore said.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Nicholas said.
"No you're not, you never cared for her," Dumbledore said. "We weren't even twins."
"But you were close and related. I am sorry for what happened, her going crazy and all. We were desperate. We've learned better. At least you have used your abilities well."
"I feel guilty every time and an apology won't bring her back. If you hadn't awakened me I might not have...No, no matter now. It is in the past," Dumbledore said, getting up. "Well, I can see that the answer is going to be no. Sad, but I understand. Have a good time in France."
Dumbledore began to leave. "Wait," Perenelle said, lowing her guard for the first time since he had arrived. "You didn't answer the question, why ask him?"
Dumbledore paused in the entryway. "Because I am desperate to stop Riddle," he said. He turned again and started to leave.
"That still isn't an answer," Nicholas prodded.
Dumbledore sighed and paused at the doorway. "It appears the end of the world may be upon us. There are two students going into their second year, twins; a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. Like I said, I'm desperate. Desperate enough to let you see them."
He was halfway down the street when Nicholas came barging out of the door screaming at him. It was funny to watch the man run down the street while trying not to be seen. "Albus," he said. "I'll do it, for a price."
Dumbledore smiled. "There is always a price," he said as Nicholas ushered him back into his house.