68 The Contract

On the next day was held the last exam for the first-years, much to their excitement and relief.

However, for Draco, this day held another kind of significance.

• The three little Gryffindors that you insisted on keeping an eye for really did go to Professor McGonagall, spouting some kind of nonsense about Severus going after the stone, • reported Zosar dutifully that afternoon.

"It means that our plans are going smoothly," replied Draco without a change of expression, though he felt like a huge stone was unloaded from his shoulders at the news.

After all, this meant that Harry would go after the stone and would, hopefully, meet Voldemort down there. Although this event didn't have any significance in the grand scheme of things, it was important for another matter – all key characters would be distracted that evening and Draco's disappearance from the castle, as well as any events happening outside of it, would pass mostly unnoticed.

"We should be getting ready," commented Draco after a long pause. His gaze traveled to a murky potion and clothes, which were obviously too big for him, neatly laid out on the bed.

With a resigned sigh, he quickly undressed and picked up the potion. Its color was muddy brown, and the smell was no better – largely resembling something out of the sewer.

• Did I mention that I am extremely happy that this is not something I will consume? • asked Zosar with a grimace (as much as a bird could grimace, anyway).

The phoenix tried not to flap his wings in order not to fan the smell all over the room. Instead, he hopped away from the bottle containing the foul potion whilst trying to cover his beak with his wings.

If Draco wasn't distracted by his own misery of having to consume said concoction, he would have surely laughed at the comical sight that his familiar presented. However, now he was too distracted to 'appreciate' the phoenix's behavior.

"This is for the better future," the blond boy muttered to himself encouragingly while picking up the bottle.

• Does that sentence actually help? • wondered Zosar while staring at Draco with a gaze that conveyed all the pity he felt for the boy at that moment.

Draco didn't reply. He tightly closed his eyes and gulped down the potion in a few swallows.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Draco opened his eyes. He was about to wonder whether the potion was defective when a sharp pain suddenly hit him and he couldn't help but curl up his body in automatic defense.

The crystal bottle, which previously held the potion, fell from his grasp and shattered into thousands of pieces strewn all over the floor.

But none of the two residents inside the room took notice of it.

"Aghh!" gasped Draco unconsciously, feeling waves upon waves of pain. His knees hit the floor, tiny wounds appearing from the crystal shards, which embedded themselves into his skin. But he noticed none of it.

• Draco? Draco! Just hold it for a few seconds, it should be over soon! • Zosar anxiously flapped his wings, leaping over to the blond boy's side and trying to reassure him.

The few pain-filled seconds felt like minutes to both, the boy and the bird. However, gradually, the pain subsided.

"It's fine now, I think," Draco said finally, after taking a few careful breaths of air, his hands automatically stroking Zosar's feathers. This action helped to calm both of them up.

After a few minutes, Draco finally carefully stood up, grimacing slightly at the pain in his knees, where the few shards from the broken bottle were still embedded. With a wave of his wand, the shards were quickly pulled out, while Zosar's tears promptly healed the wounds.

• I don't think we should use this potion in the future, • said the phoenix while casting worried glances Draco's way, as though afraid that the boy will keel over any second now.

"It's not like I wanted to use it either," Draco muttered as he approached the mirror to carefully examine the changes.

The potion that he took earlier was the aging one. Its effect lasted for six hours, which was why it was preferable to use over the Polyjuice potion, which could transform a witch or a wizard into another person entirely but lasted only for an hour.

The young man in the mirror looked to be seventeen or eighteen. He was tall, had well-developed muscles, which weren't bulky - but lean. His face wasn't too different from the twelve-year-old Draco, though it was leaner, having lost its baby fat completely.

Overall, Draco felt like he hit the jackpot when he got reincarnated into this body – it was that handsome.

But it was also no surprise.

After all, even as a child, he was good-looking and his parents could also work as models if they ever wanted to – so there was no way he could grow up to look ugly.

After appreciating his body for a few minutes, Draco finally turned away from the mirror and dressed in the laid-out robes.

"Let's go," he commanded with a slight smirk while throwing a hood over his head, hiding his face. "Missy is probably already waiting for us."

With a bright flash of fire, Draco and Zosar disappeared from the room just as the sun was beginning to set.

---

The Winterfield town was bustling with people, who went out to enjoy the last rays of sun before the day ended. Some of them were out to meet their friends after work, while others went on dates, visited new exhibitions or shopped for clothes, magical items or other things.

Likewise, the restaurants and other dining places were also packed full of people. Some patrons were sipping muggle coffee, whilst others preferred more traditional butterbeer, firewhiskey, and other magical drinks. Despite the different tastes that each café offered, it all seemed to harmoniously blend into the town, adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

However, one particular restaurant stood out because of its unusual look even in such a diversified town. There were no scattered tables along the street or many differently-dressed witches and wizards excitedly discussing the latest news. Instead, it had huge French windows, opened to let in the fresh air with white curtains billowing out.

The tables inside were neatly arranged and separated so that individual conversations wouldn't interrupt the dining experiences of other guests. The cutlery was arranged to the highest standards, and the atmosphere itself indicated that the restaurant catered to those of the highest class.

"A reservation for Mr. M," said Draco to the Maître D' when he entered the place. His cloak was taken, revealing an expensive outfit fit for a young lord of his position.

The Maître D' smiled welcomingly and quickly lead him to a separate room, specially designed for those who wanted to have private conversations and didn't wish to be interrupted.

There was already a man and a woman waiting when Draco entered.

The Maître D' politely bowed and exited the room.

"So you must be the mysterious Mr. M who decided to… how do I delicately say it?... threaten us?" Nicolas Flamel asked not so delicately.

"Mr. Flamel, I was hoping that you wouldn't take offense at the way I invited you. I did it with the best intentions, after all," Draco replied with a smile and a small bow. "And this lovely lady must be your wife Perenelle?"

The woman, whose real age was well over 600 though she didn't look a day over 40, smiled gracefully and, with a motion of her hand, invited Draco to the table.

"I believe that there was something you wished to discuss with myself and my husband? Don't mind the grumpy old man, he just doesn't like to be bested in his own games," she said with a laugh.

At first impression, Perenelle seemed to be easy-going, though Draco was sure that it wasn't so. How the two of them behaved reminded him more of a 'good cop, bad cop' scenario. But, he nevertheless smiled and settled down across from the couple.

"Have you ordered yet?" he asked instead of answering the questions. "I heard that this place serves a magnificent dragon steak – I was hoping to order it today."

Nicolas snorted and, ignoring his wife's pointed stare, demanded:

"Do you have my stone or not? I don't enjoy wasting my time with snot-nosed brats! Believe it or not, I have better things to do!"

"I hear that fairy ice-cream is also quite good here. Would you like to try it, Mrs. Flamel?" Draco asked, completely ignoring the older wizard, whose face was rapidly growing red.

Suddenly, Nicolas pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco – very much intent on cursing him first and asking questions later. Perenelle, who was sitting beside him, sighed with exasperation, though she didn't try to obstruct her husband in any way.

"If you try to kill me or harm me in any way, be sure that the Philosopher's stone will be quickly passed into the Dark Lord's or British Ministry's hands. Then, either we will have an immortal maniac, clearly bent on destroying the whole world - starting with Britain, or an immortal idiot Minister with, quite possibly, a bunch of his cronies getting in on the secret. This 'secret' wouldn't last for long, and we would have a Magical World War at our hands because other countries would also want immortality. Wouldn't that be just sad?" asked Draco sardonically.

"Very well," suddenly said Nicolas whilst tucking away his wand and calmly sitting down. His Gryffindorish behavior completely disappeared as he stared down at Draco with a cold and calculating gaze. "In your letter, you stated that you have the stone and wish to return it to us. I believe that there are certain additional stipulations – let's discuss them."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of attitude but didn't comment on it. Anyway, he wasn't there to antagonize two very powerful people, whose ages were 20 times higher than his own. Besides, it was obvious that they were just testing him.

"I didn't take the Philosopher's stone with any evil intentions, I assure you. I just need to do a couple of things to ensure my and my family's continued well-being, and I believe that you are the best people to help me. Besides, I have it in good authority that if I didn't take the stone, someone else would try to do it and it would get destroyed along the way."

Perenelle and Nicolas stared at Draco with some incredulity as he finished his, in their opinion, nonsensical explanation.

"Well, he didn't lie," finally commented Perenellele.

Draco instantly grew wary and checked over his Occlumency shields, but they were completely intact.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, boy," smirked Nicolas. "Perenelle is a natural legilimens. Her mind-reading abilities can pass even the most powerful shields."

Draco didn't know that. Although he tried to research the Flamels before meeting them, most of his efforts were concentrated on Nicolas, who was more renowned than his wife. It always seemed that she was just lucky enough to ride on his coattails of success after the Philosopher's stone was invented, but that didn't seem to be true now.

The only woman in the room smirked, and Draco suddenly realized that she knew what he was thinking about.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, dear. Many people think of me like that – I just like to prove them wrong," she explained rather nonchalantly, looking all the more dangerous for it as it was easy to underestimate her.

Draco coughed uncomfortably and steered the topic the other way:

"I would like to get three favors in exchange for the stone. We will sign a magical contract, so all of the parties will be assured that the deal will be followed."

"Let me see the contract," coldly demanded Nicolas, his eyes observing Draco, analyzing his intentions.

Draco pulled out two papers from inside his extended pocket. It was charmed, so it didn't crease even though it wasn't placed all that carefully.

Nicolas and Perenelle each took a paper and cast all sorts of spells on them, making sure that there weren't any clauses written in invisible ink, micro-runes carefully carved into thin lines of written words or other deceptions.

When they were finally satisfied with the results, they proceeded in reading the contracts, which were completely identical. It didn't take long to skim through everything because Draco wanted to be as straight-forward, as possible.

After all, he didn't think that he would be able to out-think someone, whose age was well over 600. As such, it wasn't a surprise when only five minutes later Nicolas raised his head and asked:

"I understand that this contract will protect your identity, which we don't yet know, Mr. M. And it will also bind us into helping you with any kind of three favors you demand of us if they are within our capabilities of fulfilling. But, you have to understand, that we are no genies, and even if we are capable of a lot of things, there are some lines we will not cross. So, what are those favors you want of us?"

"I would like a vow that will ensure that what we speak of in this room won't be divulged," replied Draco, calmly meeting the ancient wizard's eyes.

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged glances and, quickly raising their wands, performed the vows.

"Now, is there anything else we have to do before we can finally move on to the true matter at hand?" Nicolas asked impatiently.

Draco took a deep breath and, concealing his nervousness, replied:

"The first favor would be to research how to get rid of the Dark Mark, which Lord Voldemort's followers have on their forearms. This would include any magic which is bound to the Mark, such as the ability to track, sense the bearers, siphon off their magic or anything else tied to it."

Nicolas immediately frowned:

"I am not too sure about how youngsters look these days, but you are what – fourteen? You were Voldemort's follower?"

Draco could understand why a six hundred-year-old guy would have a hard time judging the ages of other (normal) people, but it was still hard not to take offense since he definitely looked older now.

"It is not for me, but for a member of my family that I am making this request," he replied, avoiding mentioning his age or thinking any thoughts on this particular topic. He would rather avoid Perenelle finding anything out before the contract was signed and his identity was somewhat more secure.

"I see… Well, although I never took interest in it, I am sure that we will be able to meet this demand," finally replied the older man.

"It has to be done within the next two years," added Draco.

Nicolas' expression didn't change as he nodded his head agreeably and asked for the next condition.

"There are a few dangerous artifacts that have been placed at various locations. They are tied to the Dark Lord's immortality and I would like your help in locating and destroying them," Draco stated the second favor.

Although he felt nervous divulging his knowledge of Horcruxes, he knew that he wouldn't be able to take care of them on his own at this point in time. For one, he was still too weak – his core was in its growing phase, and he didn't have Voldemort's extensive knowledge of magic.

Although the books described where Horcruxes were and how they could be destroyed, there wasn't much said about the protections placed on them. Draco knew with certainty that there was some mortal curse placed on the Gaunt ring, but he didn't know how to overcome it.

He also knew about the Ravenclaw's diadem – but it could also be cursed to affect the wearer's mind and have the compulsion to put it on.

Draco wasn't confident in resisting the Dark Lord's magic – even Dumbledore fell for it, and he was a lot more powerful and experienced.

And, although Draco had a few other options in choosing the helpers to destroy Voldemort's soul remnants, such as Abraxas or Arcturus, he would have to explain his knowledge – which could quickly turn ugly.

After all, he was also a stray soul, which occupied this body without anyone's permission. For all they knew, he was also some kind of Dark Lord bent on destroying his competition.

Nicolas Flamel, on the other hand, wouldn't care whether he was actually Draco Malfoy (soul and everything), or just some random passerby. All that would matter was the goal, as long as everything that Draco claimed was the truth. After all, Nicolas and Perenelle helped to destroy many Dark Lords, most of them French, in their lifetime. What would be one more?

"I see. If what you are saying is the truth, then we won't mind involving ourselves in this matter as long as we don't have to directly enter the conflict and no one will know of our involvement," finally intervened into the conversation Perenelle. She seemed to have caught some of Draco's stray thoughts about Horcruxes and their protections if her expression of understanding was anything to go by.

Nicolas didn't disagree, though he raised a silent eyebrow in his wife's direction, as though asking – won't we even negotiate on this? When it was apparent that no, they wouldn't, he turned back to Draco and asked for the final condition.

"I would like your help in researching reincarnation, possession and soul magic," Draco threw his last demand onto the table.

"You want to be immortal?" quickly asked Perenelle, seemingly shocked. "But no, that can't be – you haven't used the Philosopher's stone even after all this time, it is clear from your aura. The stone changes the way that your magic functions, so we would have noticed it immediately."

"No, I don't want to be immortal – at least, not right now," muttered Draco. He could have kept the stone if that was his goal, but even then, judging by the way that Nicolas and Perenelle reacted - there would be some side-effects.

No, he would rather first make sure that his reincarnation, transmigration, or whatever the hell this was, was permanent and didn't have any of its undesirable consequences.

Then, if he so wanted, he could pursue the path of a long life, or concentrate on some other things. Anyway, now that he was a wizard and could live well until 150s if there was no accident, immortality didn't seem like a priority.

"But reincarnation does seem like an interesting idea to ensure immortality," mused Nicolas quietly, his eyes pinning Draco down, looking as though he found an interesting specimen and was wondering how it escaped his notice before. "Being reborn every time with your memories intact – is there anyone who tried this before?" he asked, turning his head to his wife.

Perenelle shot him a stern look but, seeing him not relenting, gave up and shook her head in denial.

"No, there were liches, Horcruxes, youth fountains, possession of different bodies, vampires, holy grails, golden apples, cultivation, various wonky spells, and potions, but no – no rebirth," replied Perenelle while delicately counting her fingers.

Draco felt a bit speechless as he listened to many different methods to become immortal. But, it did seem that rebirth was more promising than at least half of those things that were mentioned. Should he feel lucky?

"Alright, it does seem more interesting than my current projects. We will agree to the deal if it will be written into the contract – can't have you say one thing and demand another one entirely, eh?" asked Nicolas with a laugh, but his eyes were cunningly shining as he looked at Draco.

Draco silently nodded because he already expected this. The only reason he didn't already write his demands out was that he didn't want to risk the contracts falling into the wrong people's hands or his lawyer seeing them.

With the deal concluded, it was only a matter of minutes to write everything else down and sign the two pieces of parchment. One was left with Draco, while another was in the hands of the Flamels. If either party broke the deal – they would lose their magic with no way of ever getting it back.

Draco didn't waste his time and immediately fulfilled his end of the deal, taking a bright red stone out of his pocket and placing it down on the table.

"So you did have it with you," muttered Nicolas with appreciation. "All that acting about it ending up in the Minister's hands and causing World War was just bluffing, huh? Boy, you are good!"

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Who said I was bluffing?"

"Ah, so that elf, which is standing in the corner invisible, and the phoenix perched on its shoulder are supposed to be responsible for making the threats into reality?" asked the older man back, his lips stretching into an answering smirk.

Draco's eyes widened slightly, but he hurried to hide the reaction with his well-practiced poker face.

However, the widening smirk on Nicolas' face said all about his success (or the lack of it).

"Well, boys, that's enough," interrupted Perenelle with a smile. "Nick, stop teasing the boy – he prepared a lot more thoroughly than many others and I think that it's rather admirable, really. You will have your chances to play with him another time. Draco, it was a pleasure to meet you, but we have other things to deal with now. For example, questioning our dear friend Albus on how he is protecting our property. Just last Friday he assured me that all was 'under control'."

Nicolas' eyes darkened at the reminder of their mutual friend. He carefully tucked the stone away and stood up, helping his wife along the way. After a series of quick goodbyes, they were both gone - leaving only a piece of paper with something scrawled on.

Draco stretched out his hand across the table and slid the paper over to look at it. There were only two strings of numbers written – the contacts of the Dragon Mirrors. Draco snorted silently and tucked the paper away – it was time to leave.

His only regret was that he didn't get the chance to taste the dragon steak or the fairy ice-cream which he really looked forward to.

Suddenly, his head snapped up as he stared into the distance with glazed eyes.

"Wait… How did she know my name? I never introduced myself…" he muttered unconsciously.