How Times Change

August 1956

He tapped the top of the desk impatiently with the tip of his finger as he glared at his youngest son. It had been many years since Arcturus had been so angry and disappointed in a member of his family, not since Cassiopeia had aligned herself with Grindelwald.

The woman remained in St Mungo's, and though her condition had improved considerably, she was not fit for trial or to be released into society.

Arcturus shook his head of the thoughts pertaining to his older sister, shifting them once more to the thoroughly cowed Cygnus.

The boy had always been impulsive and hot-headed, but what he had done this time was so foolish that Arcturus still struggled to believe it.

At almost fourteen years old, the Lord Black thought he had taught his son better, but evidently not.

He himself had never followed his father's example by physically punishing his children, or by means of magic, but it was tempting to do so now.

"Do you realise how monumentally you have fucked up?" he snapped.

"I didn't think…"

Arcturus interrupted the retort by slamming his hand on the desk.

"You never think, Cygnus!" he hissed. "Have you got shit between your ears, boy?"

The teen was hurt by the words of his father, but Arcturus was too furious to care.

"Did you not consider the consequences? Did you not consider her motivation for draining your balls?"

The boy blushed and looked towards his mother pleadingly.

Melania's nostrils merely flared in response.

Cygnus was granted a reprieve in the form of Elgar arriving.

"Lord Black, your guests have arrived."

Arcturus's jaw clenched and Melania rested a hand on his forearm.

"Calm, Arcturus," she urged gently. "It will serve no purpose to lose your temper."

"Show them in," Arcturus grumbled.

Only a moment later, a trio of people were led in by the elf who vanished immediately.

Arcturus's steely gaze swept over them, coming to rest on the sixteen-year-old girl who was looking at Cygnus.

The idiots even had the unmitigated gall to smile at one another, though as Arcturus exhaled deeply, they broke eye contact, both suddenly becoming nervous.

"Did you put her up to it?" Arcturus questioned the man in the group without preamble.

He was offended, and once more, Arcturus didn't care.

The Lord Black had not invited them for placation or pleasantries.

"Of course not," Lord Rosier sputtered.

Arcturus grunted as he turned his attention to the Lady of the family.

"Did you?"

The woman shook her head.

She was quite terrified, too terrified to have orchestrated something so foolish.

"No one put me up to it," the girl huffed irritably. "It just happened. It was a stupid thing to do, but we got caught up in the heat of the moment. Has that never happened to you, Lord Black?"

"Not until I was married, you stupid girl," Arcturus growled.

The girl, Druella, eyed him defiantly and was chastised by her father.

"Enough, girl, you have caused enough problems."

Druella narrowed her eyes at her father.

She was defiant, unafraid, and oddly, Arcturus felt his respect grow for her.

Making a mistake was one thing, but owning it was another, and Arcturus knew exactly how he was going to solve this issue.

"When is the baby due?" he questioned.

"Four months," Lord Rosier sighed. "We only found out about it a few days ago."

Arcturus waved off his excuse.

"I could do this one of two ways," he mused aloud. "I could cut the little bastard out of her, and no one would be any the wiser."

"Arcturus, no," Melania pleaded as the Rosiers paled.

Arcturus held up a hand to silence his wife.

"That would be the easiest thing to do in the circumstances, but I have a better idea."

Lord Rosier swallowed deeply and nodded for him to continue.

"The two of them will be married," Arcturus said simply. "Your daughter will become a member of my family. She will have the baby, and when she is ready, I will pay for her to be tutored for her NEWTs by a person of my choosing."

"That is very generous," Lord Rosier murmured.

Arcturus leaned forward in his chair.

"You will receive no dowry payment for her," he added, "and that is me being more than generous, Rosier."

Rosier looked towards his wife who seemed to be pondering the terms before she nodded.

"That is fair," Rosier agreed, offering his hand.

Arcturus accepted it and held on longer than was deemed decent.

"If it ever comes to light that she acted on your behalf, I will fucking bury your entire family. Do you understand me?"

Rosier nodded, wincing at the tightness of the hold Arcturus held him with.

Eventually, Arcturus released the man.

"They will be married before my idiot son returns to school," he declared. "He will do well, and he will provide for your daughter and the child. You have my word on that. I will be in touch with a contract within a few days."

The Rosiers took the hint of dismissal, and Druella shot Cygnus another smile before following her parents from the room.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face boy!" Arcturus snapped. "Do not think of this as a favour for you. If you step a toe out of line once more, I will ensure that this child will be the only one you ever produce. Now, get out of my sight."

Cygnus all but ran from the room and Arcturus dragged a hand through his hair.

"Fucking idiot," he cursed. "Where did we go wrong with him?"

"We spoilt him," Melania sighed.

"We spoiled Orion too, but he's never done something so stupid," Arcturus pointed out.

"Mostly because he is quite taken with Walburga," Melania pointed out.

"Pollux's girl?" Arcturus asked with a frown.

Melania nodded.

"They have been writing to each other for the past two years."

Arcturus released a deep breath.

"I suppose his choice could be worse," he muttered. "It would save me having to put up with the lords trying to curry favour with me and queuing up to kiss my arse."

"The other lords won't like it."

"All the more reason to allow it," Arcturus snorted.

"So, you've given up on the idea of marrying him and Evans' daughter?" Melania questioned as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Evans would never sign a contract for her," Arcturus sighed. "She will choose who she marries. Those are his words."

Melania giggled amusedly.

"I think you forget that he is not a pureblood."

"And yet, he is perhaps the most influential person in the country," Arcturus pointed out. "It's a shame he won't accept the post as Minister."

"Why won't he?"

"Because Harry doesn't want power," Arcturus replied with a shrug. "He doesn't lack ambition, but he lacks the desire to be in the limelight. You know what he is like."

"All too well," Melania acknowledged. "Do you think he will change his mind?"

Arcturus shook his head.

"Never," he answered confidently, "but the more he refuses, the more people want him to do it. He prefers to do his own thing with his investments and taking the occasional year to teach at Hogwarts when asked."

Melania shook her head confusedly.

"He's a strange man."

"But the best one I know," Arcturus said fondly.

Melania narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're going to have him tutor the Rosier girl," she accused.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Arcturus said unashamedly. "She wouldn't do any better than him."

Melania nodded her agreement.

"What are we going to do about Cygnus?"

"He's getting married," Arcturus pointed out. "He's going to be a father, so he'd best start acting like a man."

"You're going to make his life miserable, aren't you?"

"The next four months will be unbearable for him," Arcturus replied mischievously.

Melania gave him a look of disapproval, but Arcturus missed it.

He was too busy conjuring ways to ensure his promise was carried out.

He would make a man of his son if it was the last thing he did.

(Break)

Harry put an end to the magic he had been casting as a knock sounded at the basement door. It would not do for someone to encounter such a dangerous series of spells, and though the room remained uncomfortably hot, it was no longer a risk.

"Come in," he called.

It was Jack that entered, the boy resembling Harry so much that the man often did a double-take at his appearance.

Looking upon his son was like looking at his past self, though Jack was not as grim nor tired looking like Harry had been at his age.

"Dad, can you help me with my charms work?"

"What are you struggling with?" Harry asked.

"I'm not struggling, I just want you to explain something."

Harry snorted and prompted his son to continue.

Jack was a calm boy for the most part, introverted but very protective of his sisters. The only time Harry had known him to lose his grip on his cool composure was when another boy had made a lewd comment about Rosa at Hogwarts.

Harry could only assume that Jack had learned the toe separating curse he'd hit the boy with from his library, and as such, his son was banned from the basement along with his older sibling.

Neither Harry nor Minerva had been angry with what he had done, but the boy had been given a week of detention from Slughorn who was his head of house.

Where Rosa had been sorted into Gryffindor, Jack had become a Slytherin, a surprise for many, but not his parents.

"What do you need me to explain?"

Jack released a deep sigh.

"In The Standard Book of Spells, it says that magic can be manipulated when it has been cast, but it doesn't explain how."

"What grade are you reading?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Three," Jack answered sheepishly. "I already finished number two last year."

Harry shook his head amusedly.

"The reason it doesn't explain how is because it can be dangerous to manipulate magic," he informed the boy. "Even a simple spell can be volatile if you make a mistake."

"Really?"

Harry nodded as he cast a lumos.

"Do not try this," he said firmly.

Pulling the ball of light from the tip of his wand, he held it in his free hand where he manipulated it to change shape.

For a moment, it resembled a Thestral, and then a hippogriff before it settled in the form of a unicorn.

"It is very easy to unintentionally change the nature of the magic you have cast. You must have a focused mind, or something like this can happen," he explained as he threw the unicorn towards a training dummy.

A blinding flash, and loud explosion rent the air as the dummy was reduced to little more than splinters of wood.

Jack stared between Harry and the damage, dumbfounded by what he had seen.

"That's why it isn't in book three," Harry pointed out.

Jack nodded as a grin tugged at his lips.

"Well, I won't be messing around with that," he declared. "Thanks, dad. Oh, and mum said lunch is ready."

With an amused chuckle, the two of them left the basement and made their way to the kitchen.

"What was that noise?" Minerva asked.

"I was just showing Jack why he shouldn't attempt manipulating magic," Harry snorted before kissing his wife on the cheek.

"That boy is too curious for his own good," Minerva grumbled.

"I wonder where he gets that from," Harry replied, dodging the swat Minerva aimed at his shoulder.

"The kids get their recklessness from you," she countered.

Harry could only nod his agreement.

"Are you planning on telling them?" Minerva asked coyly.

"No," Harry answered simply. "They will find out when the others do."

Minerva shook her head, though she was pleased that Harry would be returning to teach defence at the castle, for the upcoming year at least.

"Has Albus convinced you to return permanently?"

"No, and he won't for a while yet," Harry huffed. "He's determined, I'll give him that. I'm happy doing what I am."

"Locking yourself in the basement?"

"We both know what is coming," Harry replied darkly. "He can't hide from me forever."

Minerva shot him a sad smile.

Although the magical world had been at peace for over a decade now, Harry hadn't.

Not a day went by that he wasn't preparing for another war or following up on the ominous whispers that reached him from across the continent.

With so much time having passed, it was as though everyone had forgotten about Tom Riddle, but not Harry.

If he could catch up with the man before he inevitably returned to Britain, it would be for the best, but regardless, he would put an end to the man once and for all.

"Did you write back to Petr?" Minerva asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Harry nodded.

"And Eleanor," he assured her.

The Russian wrote regularly and visited as much as he could.

Petr was already being tipped to replace his father when the man chose to retire but continued to serve as the head of the Russian security services.

Eleanor had taught at the school for a few years before returning home to Bulgaria where she had eventually married.

She now worked as a consultant for the auror department, something that Harry found highly amusing since she was still technically an escaped prisoner.

"Are you looking forward to it?" Minerva asked with a smirk.

"To what?"

"Another year at Hogwarts."

Harry smiled as he nodded.

Although he wasn't ready to commit himself to the castle full time, and perhaps never would be, the prospect of returning always filled him with a sense of excitement that nothing else did.

For him, it was like going home, the first place he had truly been where he felt as though he belonged, despite everything that had happened there during his formative years.

"Always," he replied sincerely.

Minerva rubbed his forearm and placed a kiss on his lips.

It was her home too in many ways, and the place their lives had begun together.

"Do you have to do that?" Rosa groaned from where the children were seated around the table. "We are trying to eat."

"How do you think you got here, Rosa?" Minerva asked.

The girl grimaced, shaking her head in disgust.

"It's bad enough knowing it, we certainly don't need to see it."

The girl had been this way since Minerva had relented and explained the circumstances of how Harry and Minerva had met, at Rosa's persistent questioning.

She had been horrified to think of her mother in such a state of undress in the Gryffindor common room and her father walking in on her.

For both Harry and Minerva, it was an entertaining trip down memory lane at a time when things were simpler than they had become, but they had been young enough to enjoy a little naivety before things unfolded as they did.

"Will you still help me with some training?" Rosa asked.

Harry nodded.

The girl's love for flying had bloomed into a love for Quidditch, and only the previous year, she had been made seeker for the Gryffindor house team, though she had certainly been taken aback by how good her father was.

Harry was a natural at flying, and Rosa had grown up watching him whilst he would supervise the children on the Quidditch pitch in the grounds, but she had never seen him play until the beginning of this summer.

The girl had been mesmerised by his ability and all but demanded he trained her.

Harry did so happily, pleased to share something with his firstborn that the others were either too young to truly enjoy, or had little interest in.

Jack was an excellent flyer, but had no love for playing Quidditch, and the twins wouldn't begin at Hogwarts for another year, though both seemed to be determined to play.

"Why didn't you try to play professionally?"

That was the question Rosa had asked after their first session, an innocent enough enquiry, but one that was not simple to answer without Harry reliving the years that followed his education.

"The world was a very different place then," he answered.

"The war," Rosa replied apologetically.

Harry nodded.

It was the first time since Minerva had given the girl the articles her first night of Hogwarts that she had mentioned it, and having done so, she asked Harry questions about his experiences.

It was not an easy thing to discuss, but he had answered her honestly about his time as a Hit-Wizard, the things that had been well documented by the media, and even the final fight with Grindelwald.

When Rosa had run out of questions, she had hugged him tightly.

"Thank you for everything you did."

Harry had been thanked by hundreds of people over the years, but none meant more to him than the gratitude of his daughter whom he had missed so much of her early years.

"I'd do it all again if I had to, for all of you."

Harry had meant it, and knowing just what was on the horizon, he knew he would have to.

"Come on then, let's put you through your paces," he chuckled, and Rosa sprinted from the kitchen to fetch her broom.

(Break)

The smell of blood was the first thing he became aware of as he regained consciousness, and Lord Voldemort released a groan before he opened his eyes.

He was covered in the viscous liquid, and the white walls and floor had been sprayed during his brutal attack on the woman.

She had not caused him offence, on the contrary, she had been quite the useful companion, but she had outlasted her usefulness now, and her life was better served creating his second Horcrux.

Yes, she had provided him with some of the rarest tomes of magic available to man, but that did not mean she had to be spared.

She had been a curator at the library belonging to the Greek Ministry, a building full of magical knowledge no longer available to the public.

Voldemort had merely needed to charm the woman as he had many others throughout his travels, and she had willingly given him everything he required of her.

He had held on to the diadem in the hopes of unlocking the magic contained within, but it was not to be. The relic would not yield what he desired, and that too was now being put to better use.

Voldemort fought the urge to vomit as he stood on trembling legs, a smile tugging at his lips as he rubbed his bloody palms across his face and laughed heartily.

The excitement of a kill never failed to elicit such glee within him, one of the very few things he felt now.

He had expected that he would one day become what he had once been, but with the fragment of soul missing, he simply hadn't.

Now, with another piece missing, he felt even less.

The nagging voice that would sometimes question his intentions was absent, his mind focused only on his goals.

More power.

He wanted it all to himself, and he would obtain it.

Voldemort frowned deeply.

Power had never truly been his ambition, not outside his own magical capabilities, and though he had pondered grasping influence, he had never felt such a desire before now.

Was this another effect of creating Horcruxes?

Voldemort shrugged as he picked up the diadem and eyed it.

He needed to find somewhere to hide his Horcruxes.

It would not do to carry them around with him.

Shaking his head of the thought, he pocketed the Ravenclaw relic.

There would be plenty of time to hide them, but first, he needed to create more, and he knew exactly where he could find two that were ripe for the picking.

"No," he muttered, "I am not ready yet, but I will be."

Lord Voldemort needed to be stronger before he made his return to Britain, and though he didn't intend on announcing his arrival, there was much more for him to do.

He needed to be stronger, to prove that he was worthy of following, that his vision could be brought to life.

The former would be the easiest.

Thanks to his latest victim, Voldemort had acquired the knowledge he needed to continue strengthening his magic.

When he was done with the rituals, and had acquired the experience he needed, he would focus on his plan to return home where his campaign would truly begin.

With a final look at the mutilated corpse of the woman, he left the house, his thoughts shifting to where he should head next.

(Break)

Having attended a rather strange and unexpected wedding of a boy younger than her and spending a considerable amount of time on the Quidditch pitch with her father, the summer had passed quickly, much too quickly for Rosa's liking.

She'd always been close to him, but Rosa finally felt like she understood the kind of man her dad was, though he was still something of an enigma.

People loved him, respected him, and admired him, but it was almost like he didn't want any of it.

To most, fame and fortune was everything, and influence is what they sought, especially the purebloods, but not her father.

Harry Evans wanted nothing but a quiet life, and Rosa's respect for him only grew because of it.

She would miss him this year, more so than the previous ones.

It wasn't that she hadn't before, but with how close she felt to the man now, it didn't feel right being away from him.

Rosa stared at her empty plate whilst the sorting took place, and then Dumbledore giving the start of term address.

She was too busy thinking about everything she had learned from her father.

Not just on the Quidditch pitch mind, but when she had asked to see some of the spells he had used to kill Grindelwald.

Much to Rosa's surprise, he had done so, and though she knew that he was a highly regarded wizard, seeing what her father was capable of was something else entirely.

He was an incredible wizard, and she finally understood why he was so revered.

Rosa was pulled from her thoughts by an elbow knocking into her ribs.

"Ow," she grumbled, helping herself to the food that had appeared on the table.

"Are you okay?"

Rosa nodded.

The girl who had jabbed her in the ribs was Celia Jones who was a chaser on the house team.

She was small, nimble, and nigh on impossible to mark when in the air.

"I'm fine," Rosa assured her. "How was your summer?"

The blonde girl beamed.

"I finally got a new broom, a Nimbus 400!"

Rosa smiled excitedly.

"Do you like it?"

Celia nodded.

"It is amazing," she gushed. "I can't see how they will top it."

Rosa couldn't either.

The Nimbus 400 was fast, and the handling on it second to none.

"Shall we go and do some extra training in the morning?"

Celia's eyes lit up at the prospect, but the plates cleared, and Dumbledore stood to address the room once more before she could respond.

"Now that we are fed and watered, I have only a few announcements to make before you return to your common rooms," he began. "Firstly, to new and returning students alike, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all. Mr Hagrid will be watching vigilantly."

His gaze swept across the Great Hall, but there was an unmissable twinkle of amusement in the headmaster's eyes.

Not a year went by where someone didn't venture into the forest and found themselves in trouble.

It had become something of a game to do so, and usually involved a dare of sorts.

"Secondly, the commodity known as a Fanged Frisbee, has been banned within the walls of the castle," Dumbledore continued. "Mr Pringle has affixed a list of other items to the door of his office. If there is any doubt, please do refer to it."

The students whispered amongst themselves, many unhappy at the banning of the popular product.

"Finally, there is only one change to the teaching staff this year," Dumbledore spoke over the din, silencing the students. "Professor Finney will not be re-joining us for this year as he has been commissioned to assist with a rather important project, but I can assure you, his replacement will be able to teach you just as competently. Some of you older students may remember him, so please welcome back, Professor Evans who will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

There was silence in the room until the door to the side of the top table opened, and Rosa's mouth fell agape at the sight of her father.

The other students erupted in applause at his appointment, but Rosa was stunned.

She had hoped that maybe one day she and her father would cross paths at the school, and it had happened when she couldn't have wanted it more.

Evidently, Dumbledore had dismissed them, but Rosa did not leave the Great Hall. Instead, she walked towards where her parents were talking to one another, her heart jolting in her chest as her father smiled at her.

She all but jumped in his arms, and he laughed as he held her tightly.

"Surprised?" he asked.

Rosa nodded.

"The best surprise."

(Break)

Having taught a couple of lessons, Harry knew that teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was what he was meant to be doing whilst he was at Hogwarts. As much as he'd enjoyed teaching Transfiguration, it was not his passion.

Being in this classroom reminded him of the days when he taught the DA, and though it made him feel quite melancholic, his memories of doing so were amongst those he held dear from his former life.

He looked on as the fifth years entered the room, Rosa amongst them. The Gryffindors shared these lessons with the Slytherins, and even those garbed in the green and silver robes looked upon him with respect.

It was something Harry had never gotten used to. He had become accustomed to the sneers and snide comments, and though that had been what seemed to be a lifetime ago, it was not something he had forgotten.

"You will not require your books today," he declared.

Obediently, the students returned them to their bags before placing them on the floor.

"This year, you will be sitting your OWL exams," Harry continued. "It is my job to make sure that you are ready for them, but it is also my job to ensure that you are capable of defending yourselves from the Dark Arts. For the next few lessons, I will be learning what it is I need to teach you for both. Any questions?"

"Will there be homework?" a large boy in Slytherin robes grunted.

Harry eyed him, recognising the troll-like features.

"There will be homework, Mr Crabbe, but how much I give depends on how hard you work in here. Now, during your exam, you will be expected to demonstrate your ability in practical defence. Today, we will begin with the basic shield charm. Can someone tell me the advantages of using it?"

"It is able to be cast quickly," a girl in Slytherin robes answered.

Harry nodded.

"Take a point for your house, Ms Zabini. Can anyone demonstrate it for me?"

Rosa raised her hands and Harry gestured for her to do so.

He had taught her the charm during the summer before her fourth year, so he had no doubt she could do it.

"Good," he praised. "Take a point for Gryffindor. What are the disadvantages of the shield charm?"

"It is not very good against stronger curses," a Gryffindor answered.

"Another," Harry requested.

"It limits your movement."

"Good. Another."

"It is tiring to maintain."

Harry smiled as he nodded.

"What should you do if you can instead of casting one?"

"Avoid a curse."

"Excellent," Harry returned, clapping his hands.

The chairs and tables slid to the sides of the room and stacked themselves neatly.

"Despite its impracticality, the examiner will expect you to be able to cast it," he explained. "You will work in pairs, practicing shielding against minor jinxes and hexes only," he added firmly.

The students set to work, and Harry watched them for the remainder of the lesson, offering tips to those that were struggling, and also suggestions of other spells that could be used by the attackers.

There was certainly room for improvement for the most part, but when it was time for them to leave, there were few that had not made progress.

"I want eight inches on the advantages and disadvantages of using a shield charm," he instructed as they gathered their bags and were readying to leave. "Off you go."

They filed out, most whispering excitedly, happy with the lesson they'd just had.

"And what can I do for you?" Harry asked Rosa who had remained behind.

"Nothing, I just wanted to say that you're a natural at this."

"Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Rosa giggled and shook her head.

"No, I wouldn't involve myself with hers and Dumbledore's scheme to get you to stay. Will it really only be for this year?"

Harry nodded.

"Albus is already looking for someone else," he explained. "I love being at Hogwarts, but now is not the right time to be here permanently. Maybe that day will never come."

Rosa smiled sadly.

"If you love it here, then why don't you stay? We're all old enough that you don't need to be home. The twins will be starting next year, and Jasmine isn't a baby anymore."

Harry deflated.

How could he explain that he would need to be ready for when an enemy that very few knew existed would return?

He couldn't, but he wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulder.

"There is more to my life than you lot," he snorted. "I like my peace and quiet and working on other things."

"I know, but it's nice having you here," Rosa sighed. "You look really happy."

"I am," Harry assured her. "Hogwarts was my first home, but it isn't my home any longer."

Rosa huffed irritably as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Will you be at dinner later?"

Harry shook his head.

"Nicholas and Perenelle have invited your mother and me to theirs. We haven't seen them for a while."

"Uncle Nic is back?"

"For now," Harry snorted. "Come on, you need to be going to transfiguration. I wouldn't put it past your mother to give you a detention."

"She would too," Rosa grumbled before hugging Harry and leaving the room.

Harry simply chuckled as he began preparing for his next class.

It was good to be back and teaching what he was best at, even if it was only for one year.

(Break)

For the past seven years or so, Nicholas and Perenelle had spent no more than a few weeks at their home in France. As much as both of them were fond of the country, and their memories here, it hadn't felt the same since the war had been concluded.

Much had changed in the intervening years. Even the remains of the neighbouring house had been cleared away, leaving nothing but a patch of scarred land in its place.

Nicholas had always been against war of any sorts, but the last had been more devastating than all the others he'd experienced combined.

His gaze drifted to Harry who was spooning some of Perenelle's broccoli soup into his mouth.

He truly was a good boy, and one of the few things Nicholas and his wife appreciated in life.

Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to his four-legged companion whom he had buried a few months prior, and the alchemist swallowed a lump that formed in his throat.

He missed Camille dearly.

She had been with him for but a blink of the eye that was his life, but she had left a lasting impression on him.

"What's wrong, Nic?" Harry asked worriedly.

Nicholas wiped away the tears that had unwittingly formed before he looked towards his wife who nodded solemnly.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and removed a wrapped package on the table before sliding it towards the younger man.

Harry frowned as he opened it and dropped it on the table with a dull thud as though it had burned him.

The man knew what it was he had been given, and his expression said more than any words he could ever speak.

Nicholas knew he had made the right decision.

"What is this?" Harry asked accusingly.

Nicholas released a deep breath.

"It's yours to do with as you please," he explained. "You can use it, or you can destroy it. It makes no difference to us."

Harry looked between Nicholas and Perenelle who was nodding her agreement.

She took Nicholas's hand, her expression and following words almost pleading.

"Take it," she whispered emotionally.

"I can't take this," Harry sighed.

"Please."

Harry said nothing, his posture sagging before he shook his head.

"Why?" he croaked.

"We've had enough," Nicholas said simply. "The world has become something that we no longer recognise. In the last century, it has changed so much, and in another, it will only become worse. We've discussed it, and we are in agreement that now is the right time. We are tired of burying those we care for, and that is all we have to look forward to. Albus will go, then you, and then your children. It will be never ending, Harry."

"Now, we have someone we can entrust the stone to, someone we know who will not abuse it, or allow it to fall into the wrong hands," Perenelle explained. "Giving it to you means we can rest easy."

"That's it?" Harry asked.

"That's it," Nicholas confirmed. "We will no longer take the elixir, and we can pass on our own terms. The stone is yours, and all we ask is that you respect our decision."

Once more Harry looked between them before nodding his understanding.

"I won't use it," he said firmly, "but I won't destroy until you are gone, just in case."

Nicholas chuckled.

"We won't change our mind," he assured the man. "I would encourage you to use it for yourself. The world will always need a man like you, Harry."

"Others will come along," Harry snorted.

"You'd think that," Nicholas mused aloud, "but in all my years, I've never met someone like you, and it has been a refreshing pleasure. You've proven to be a good man."

"The best we've known," Perenelle chimed in.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but fell silent as Minerva's hand came to rest on his thigh.

"Put it away, Harry, that's a good boy," Nicholas urged. "Perenelle has made you a treacle tart."

Harry could only laugh as tears streamed down his cheeks, and though the man was taken aback, and deeply upset, Nicholas knew he respected their decision.

He didn't like it, but he made no further effort to talk them out of it.

Harry placed the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, and it would be the last of it that either Nicholas or Perenelle Flamel would see.

They would have a few more years of life to enjoy together, but finally, after more than six centuries of living, they were ready for their journey to end, and they would be forever grateful that it would do so at their own behest.

For them, time had become nothing but a commodity, but with only so little of it left, they could finally appreciate how precious it was.