London Calling

It was with a flourish that Harry finished his final answer to the last exam he had deigned to take, and he leaned back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. It had been a gruelling few days under the watch of a considerably younger Madame Marchbanks, who had put him through his paces, though he was pleased with his performances, overall.

She may have been less seasoned than the woman he had met only weeks ago, but Marchbanks was no less stern, and even here she had the same unnerving aura about her.

Still, Harry had come to respect her, but he would be pleased to see the back of the exams administrator.

His wrists were sore from all the writing.

"If you are finished, you may leave," she instructed. "I will have your work marked by the end of the day and you can collect your results from Professor Dippet."

Harry nodded gratefully.

He did not need telling twice, and he also had a visit to Diagon Alley to complete. The new term would be starting in only a couple of days, and he needed to get his supplies.

Dippet had provided him with his list, and even gold to purchase them. Harry had tried to return the latter, but the man had insisted.

In many ways, the headmaster was very much like the Dumbledore he had come to know, though there was an innocence about him that his former one had lost in recent days. There appeared to be no ulterior motive to the time Dippet spent with Harry, and it seemed that he wanted nothing more than to help him.

The teen had come to enjoy his tutoring sessions over the past two months and found that he would miss them when the school year began, and they would cease.

"How did you do?" Minerva asked excitedly, accosting him after he had barely taken a step through the portrait hole.

The two of them had grown closer over the summer, often spending their evenings in the common room together reading, discussing magic, or simply getting to know one another better.

It was still odd for Harry who had found it difficult to shift the image of the older, firm woman he had become accustomed to, and often he would be reminded of it with certain expressions the girl wore. However, she was making the effort to get to know him and had even assisted with his revision.

The girl was growing on him. As strange as that thought was, he could not deny it.

She had a sharp wit, and wand to match, but most of all, she was fun to be around.

"It could have been better," he sighed dramatically. "I just couldn't get any of it right."

She narrowed her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips.

"If you're lying to me…"

Harry laughed, unable to keep up the ruse.

He just found it so funny when she became irritated. Her Scottish accent somehow became stronger, and the glare was one that reminded him of home.

"You're such a prat," she scolded, grinning, though her cheeks had reddened slightly. "I would have been furious with you. I did not spend all those hours making sure you had it down for you to fail!"

"I imagine you would have turned my ears into scorpions or something," Harry snorted.

Minerva nodded thoughtfully.

"That could work," she mused aloud.

Harry did not doubt she would if she felt the need to. This Minerva was hot-headed enough and her temper did not have the benefit of maturity as the woman who had gone on to become Deputy-Headmistress of the school.

"I really shouldn't give you ideas," he sighed.

"You shouldn't," she agreed, "even if they are quite good sometimes."

Harry shook his head amusedly.

He had come to learn when she was joking just as well as he knew when she was not. Her sense of humour would be an acquired taste for most, but he found he enjoyed it readily enough.

"Are you still going to the alley today?" she asked.

"I am," Harry confirmed. "I need new robes new books,, and everything else really," he added with a frown.

He'd had a growth spurt over the summer. As such, most of his clothes no longer fit, not in length at least. He would never reach the same rotundness of his cousin, but the last cast offs of Dudley he had been given were now a few inches short whereas the waist of the trousers remained baggy.

"Can I come?" Minerva asked eagerly. "I need a few things myself."

Harry nodded.

"That would be appreciated," he replied.

He didn't know if Diagon Alley resembled the one he was familiar with, and he had not ventured out of the castle thus far, other than to visit the Flamels. He had yet to see the world and having someone with him that knew it would be for the best.

Minerva smiled brightly.

"Let me just get some things then we can get the Knight Bus," she replied enthusiastically, heading towards the staircase that led to the girl's rooms before she had finished speaking.

She returned only a few moments later wearing a conservative red dress with matching hat and black heels. She'd also applied some make-up, and Harry found himself confused.

"What?" she asked as he eyed her questioningly. "We are going to London, Harry," she said as though that explained everything. "You'll see what I mean."

He did not know what to say and had no clue what she meant. Nonetheless, he followed her from the common room, already having all he needed for the trip.

"Do we have to get the bus?" he asked, his memories of being thrown around the vehicle and resulting nausea not having endeared him to the method of transport.

"We can always floo if you like?"

Harry grimaced.

He didn't know which he preferred least.

"We'll get the bus," he decided

He did not want a repeat of what had happened to him before his second year. Appearing in Borgin and Burke's was less appealing than the triple-decker.

"Bad experience?" Minerva asked with a smirk.

"With both," Harry grumbled. "The floo hates me and the bus was also definitely out to get me."

Minerva bit her lip in a bid to prevent the laughter, but it did not go unnoticed by Harry who scowled.

"Don't worry," she comforted, "we will learn to apparate this year. Maybe you'll find that more agreeable."

His mood brightened considerably.

He was looking forward to apparating. It couldn't be any worse than the alternatives, could it?

He would find out soon enough, but first, he had a shopping trip to complete.

He had chosen a pleasant day to do so at the very least. The sun was out, but a cooling breeze blew across the grounds of Hogwarts making the heat a little more bearable.

"It will be hotter in London," Minerva said, as though she had read his mind. "It always is."

Harry nodded as they passed through the gates and Minerva held up her wand.

With a louder than necessary bang, the Knight Bus arrived a moment later, skidding to a halt before them.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," a smartly dressed man greeted them, stepping off and gesturing for the duo to board. "I am your conductor Eric, where will you be heading today?"

"Diagon Alley," Minerva replied.

"Then that will be three sickles apiece," Eric announced cheerily, a frown marring his features as he caught sight of Harry.

He said nothing but shook his head as Minerva handed him the fare.

"Will yourself and your companion require refreshments?" he asked.

"No thank you," Minerva answered, taking Harry by the arm and leading him to a seat.

"Three sickles?" Harry questioned, ignoring the peering Eric.

"I know, it's quite pricey, but it is convenient," Minerva pointed out.

"Pricey?" Harry murmured. "It cost me eleven when I used it."

"Eleven?" Minerva replied, flabbergasted. "Eleven sickles will pay for your transfiguration text and leave you with change."

Harry was not given the chance to reply as the bus suddenly lurched forward and disappeared with another obscenely loud bang.

The worth of a galleon was something that had not crossed his mind, but if everything would cost around a quarter of what he was expecting to pay, then the sum of his wealth was considerably greater than he had accounted for.

"I hate the bus," he groaned, feeling rather sick by the erratic way it was being weaved in and out of the traffic.

"It will be over soon," Minerva returned amusedly.

Not soon enough for Harry, though it was only around five minutes later that they departed, having been dropped off outside the Leaky Cauldron.

"Thank you for choosing the Knight Bus," Eric bid them farewell. "We hope to see you again soon."

"Not bloody likely," Harry mumbled as the doors closed and the bus shot down the street towards Charing Cross.

"Come on," Minerva urged, taking him by the arm and leading him into the pub.

The first thing he noticed was the amount of smoke that filled the room. Dotted around, were tables of patrons, the women dressed similarly to Minerva, and the men wearing sport coats, a shirt, and trousers with a crease running down the front. Some even wore hats, and Harry suddenly felt under-dressed.

Many were openly smoking cigarettes, the gold cases they seemingly kept them in sat atop the table next to their drinks. The men smoked them in the way Harry had seen when in the muggle world, but the women did so through long metal tubes, some silver and others gold.

"Different?" Minerva asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He nodded.

"Why aren't they all in robes?"

Whenever he had visited Diagon Alley, most wore robes other than a few half-bloods and muggle parents that were accompanying their children.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't wizards and witches mostly wear robes?" he questioned.

Minerva looked at him questioningly.

"Only the purebloods really," she answered. "The muggleborns and half-bloods are quite in touch with their fashion. It's nicer than wearing robes," she added conspiratorially.

"You're not a pureblood?" Harry questioned, surprised by the revelation.

"No," Minerva chuckled, "my father is a muggle Minister, my mother is a pureblood though."

That was something he hadn't known, nor even thought to ask. To him, someone's blood did not matter, but it certainly had to many he had met during his life. Was it so different here?

"Maybe we should get you some clothes first," Minerva suggested, noticing that Harry was garnering a lot of attention, "and a haircut. You're beginning to look homeless."

Harry ran a hand through his hair.

It had gotten longer over the summer, and if he wished to, he could tie it in a ponytail. Not that it would do him any favours judging by the hairstyles he saw around him. If anything, that would only make him stand out more.

"Probably a good idea," he agreed.

"I know a place," Minerva replied. "Do you want only wizard clothing or some muggle things too?"

Harry wasn't sure.

He'd always worn muggle clothing when robes weren't required, and it didn't seem right to change that. Robes were rather cumbersome, though the alternative here was not what he was used to.

"Both?" he questioned uncertainly.

Minerva offered him a look of sympathy.

"We can always have a look. If you don't like what you see, then you can just stick to robes."

Harry nodded gratefully, pleased she had asked to come along.

Not for the first time since he'd arrived in this strange place, he felt out of his depth and found himself longing once more for familiarity.

The homesickness had slowly eased off over the passing weeks but coming here had only made it resurface. He missed his home, his friends and all the things he knew.

"Come on then," Minerva encouraged. "The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get back to the castle."

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be led through the pub and into the alley on the other side of the wall that separated the magical and muggle worlds.

He took some comfort that the streets at least were somewhat familiar, the row of shops differing slightly, but still recognisable.

"We should start at Madame Malkins," Minerva suggested, pointing to a shop only a short distance away. "It's new, but she does great robes."

"I didn't realise she was that old," Harry commented as they made their way.

"You know it?"

"She's still in business where I'm from."

Minerva nodded appreciatively as they entered the shop and Harry once more found himself taken aback by the clothing of the time.

The robes on display were like the ones he already owned but were less tailored and a slightly looser fit on the mannequin.

"Hogwarts robes?" a young woman from behind the counter questioned.

"For him," Minerva explained, gesturing to Harry.

"Of course," the woman complied. "I'm Madame Malkin. Let's get you measured and then I can get to work."

It felt no less awkward being measured by the seamstress than it had previously. Instead of using a magical tape measure as Ollivander did, she opted to complete the task manually, a levitating quill and parchment noting down the numbers as she said them aloud.

"And how many robes would you like?" Malkin asked when she was done.

"Three should do it," Harry answered.

He couldn't see why he would need more.

"Okay, so that will be four galleons and eleven sickles," the seamstress informed him. "Your robes will be ready in around forty-five minutes."

Harry handed her the required coins before he and Minerva took their leave of the shop.

"Let me guess, you're used to paying more?"

Harry nodded.

"Almost five Galleons per robe."

Minerva released a deep breath and shook her head.

"Well, why don't we get you some clothes now, a haircut, your potions ingredients, and then we can go to Quality Quidditch Supplies before getting you your books?" she suggested.

"That could work," Harry agreed.

It was an odd though not unpleasant experience shopping with the girl who assisted him with some choices in clothing, something Harry knew nothing about even in his own time. She even helped choose a fashionable haircut when they visited the barbers.

When he left, he no longer resembled 'a scruffy street urchin' as the barber had dubbed him, his hair left with a little length, cut shorter on the sides and top swept to the right.

He certainly felt better for it, even if he was unsure about the olive-green sport coat, white shirt and grey plaid trousers Minerva had picked out for him. He had tried to draw the line at the matching trilby hat, but she had insisted.

"It completes your outfit," she explained as though it really explained anything to him.

At the very least, he no longer felt out of place walking through Diagon Alley, and people had stopped staring at him, much to his relief.

"We have enough time to get the rest of your things before your robes will be ready, but first, Quidditch. It's only there," Minerva explained, pointing to a nearby building.

The eager girl all but frogmarched him into the shop, to his amusement. The McGonagall he knew was an avid Quidditch fan, but he hadn't considered just how much she enjoyed the sport.

Evidently, it was much more than he thought.

"Look at those," she gushed, pointing at an array of what Harry would consider to be antique brooms.

These were worse than the school brooms he had learned to ride on at the beginning of first year.

"The Comet Ten does sixty-five miles per hour!"

Harry snorted.

His firebolt did more than double that.

"I suppose the brooms you had are faster?" Minerva asked, her eyebrow raised in his direction.

"A lot faster," Harry confirmed, "but also more expensive," he added, spying the price tag of the Comet Ten.

At sixty galleons, it was a bargain for a top of the range broom.

"I'm not here for a new broom anyway, just these," Minerva informed him as she selected a rather thick, unwieldy pair of what appeared to be chaser's gloves.

She paid for them, and Harry once more found himself being led through Diagon Alley only a moment later, this time towards the familiar Flourish and Blotts.

Thankfully, the shop was bereft of many patrons, and they managed to gather his required reading for the year and be out within only a few minutes, and exiting the apothecary shortly after having purchased his potions ingredients.

"Now we just have to collect your robes," Minerva reminded him.

Harry nodded, his eyes having drifted towards Ollivander's. He, of course, had his wand, but seeing the shop reminded him of what Dumbledore had said about his relationship with it.

Perhaps he should pay a visit to the wandmaker, or whomever oversaw the shop now?

Something to consider for the Christmas holidays, he decided with a shake of his head. Already, he had tired of being in the alley and wanted only to return to the castle, a place he knew well and was familiar.

"Thank you for coming with me today," he said gratefully to the girl that had accompanied him. "I wouldn't have known where to begin without you."

Minerva offered him an understanding smile.

"Well, maybe one day it will be me that drags you somewhere unfamiliar if I need to," she replied before choking. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know what you meant," Harry chuckled, once more finding himself amused by the girl who was blushing. "But thank you, and for the help with my OWLs."

"I didn't really do much there," Minerva pointed out. "You could already do those things, you just needed the confidence. Speaking of which, when will you get your results?"

"When we're back and I go to see Dippet."

"That soon? Then what are we doing dawdling around here. Let's get your robes and go."

Harry could only laugh as she dragged him towards Madame Malkins, seemingly more eager to learn how he had done on his exams than he was.

(Break)

"So, how did he do?" Armando asked impatiently.

Griselda Marchbanks eyed him sternly over her glasses.

"Well enough," she replied cryptically. "A corporeal patronus his age is quite the feat indeed. He is certainly remarkable."

Armando nodded his agreement.

"And what name am I to use on his transcript?" Marchbanks asked, her quill poised. "He has only filled in his exam sheet as Harry."

The headmaster knew this and had been the one to suggest it to the teen.

"That remains to be seen," he answered honestly. "Harry is related to a rather prominent family, and whether he uses the name is currently undecided. I will discuss it with him imminently."

Griselda eyed him questioningly but did not press the issue.

"Very well," she conceded. "I will leave it to your discretion to complete this when a decision has been made."

Armando nodded gratefully.

"Thank you for taking the time to assess him," he offered. "I know it is most out of the ordinary, but it is appreciated."

Marchbanks waved him off.

"He proved to be an interesting young man. Will he be enrolled this year?"

"He will," Armando confirmed.

"Then I look forward to seeing what he will do under your headship," she declared as she stood. "He is a little rough around the edges in some ways but could do very well for himself."

"That is what I am hoping for."

Griselda said nothing else but offered him a nod before sweeping from the office, and Armando breathed a sigh of relief, pleased that she had not pressed him for a name.

To many in the wizarding world, a name was everything, especially the purebloods, but people like Griselda Marchbanks cared little for such things.

Now, the headmaster need only worry about how he was going to broach the subject with the boy.

"Come in, Albus," he called, his ward notifying him to the man's arrival.

"Has she gone?" the transfiguration professor questioned as he entered the room.

Armando nodded.

"She left only a moment ago," he explained. "Shall I assume that you are just as keen to see how well Harry has done for yourself?"

"You should," Dumbledore chuckled.

Although it had been Armando that had spent the most time with the boy, it hadn't been uncommon for Albus to join them beyond his own tutoring of Harry in transfiguration of Harry over the summer.

Evidently, the boy had grown on them both, just as much as he seemed to be coming into his own.

Ever since Flamel had done what he had for Harry, there had been changes with the boy. Not so obvious ones to begin with, but as the summer had increased, they became more noticeable.

To begin with, he had certainly become more confident.

Armando had at first believed that he was merely becoming more comfortable here having begun to settle, but no, it was a change to his overall demeanour. Still, he would sometimes shy away from maintaining eye contact when speaking with him, but not so much.

He remained quiet for the most part, but not from apprehension. Harry was taking in more around him, observing and questioning what he saw. Armando had even tested him on this without telling the boy by moving things around the office to see if he would notice.

He did but did not ask as to why. Harry merely frowned in recognition and would shake his head of any thought he had regarding the matter.

Those were only the changes that Armando had noticed, and he often found himself wondering if there were more, or even if Harry was aware of them?

"I expect he will be here shortly. He and Minerva have arrived back on the grounds."

Dumbledore nodded and the two men waited for Harry to make his way to the office.

He did so after around only ten minutes, understandably rather keen to receive his OWL results.

"Come in," Armando bid as a knock sounded, doing a doubletake as the young man entered. "Well, don't you look sharp," he commented, gesturing towards Harry's ensemble.

"Oh, I thought I should try to blend in," Harry explained as he removed his hat and took a seat.

"It suits you," Dumbledore complimented with a smile.

Harry shrugged in response, his ability to take such sentiments still needing work.

"I suppose you have come for these?" Armando asked, holding the envelope Marchbanks had left on his desk aloft.

Harry nodded and took the missive, hesitating briefly before tearing it open.

The headmaster watched as his eyes scanned the parchment and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You are satisfied?"

"Better than I was expecting," Harry answered, handing the man his results.

Armando read what he had received and nodded satisfactorily, mirrored by Dumbledore who had glanced over his shoulder to follow suit.

"A mixture of Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations," the headmaster acknowledged. "Considering your thoughts on History and Astronomy, you have done very well in all your subjects. You should be very pleased."

"And on a personal note, the outstanding in transfiguration was well deserved," Dumbledore added.

"Thank you," Harry replied.

Armando offered him a smile, though it fell when he realised they had reached an important juncture.

"Now, there is something that we can no longer avoid discussing," Dippet said seriously. "As you can see, the documents here only include your first name. With the school term only a few days away, you do need to consider what name you will use."

Harry sighed and nodded his understanding.

"I can't really use Potter, can I?"

"Of course, you can," Dippet disputed, "though doing so will bring much unwanted attention to yourself and your family here. The Potters will wonder who on earth you are, as will the public. The Potters, as I'm sure you're aware are a very prominent family, and a small one at that. It would not take too much digging to realise something was amiss."

"Do you think I should use a different one?" Harry asked.

"In a bid to protect yourself from those that will take too much of an interest, I do," Armando responded. "Not because I don't want you to be happy, Harry, but because I want you to be safe."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"In the spirit of this, I would offer you the use of my own name," Armando continued. "My own family is not so prominent that it would provoke too much interest, and there will be few that question my word. I could explain that you are a great-nephew."

"It is a viable option, but ultimately, a big decision for you to make," Dumbledore broke in.

"It is," Harry murmured.

His name was almost all that he had left, and he was reluctant to just simply give it up, though Dippet was right with what he had said. Using it would bring a considerable amount of attention to him, something that he neither wanted nor needed.

"You need not make a decision this very moment, Harry," the headmaster assured him. "Just so long as I have a name before term starts, it will be fine."

Harry offered the man a sad, yet grateful smile.

"Perhaps you should discuss it with Nicholas," Dumbledore suggested. "I met with him today and he has asked that you join him and Perenelle for lunch tomorrow. He would have written but felt that I would be a quicker means of conveying the invitation."

"I will," Harry decided as he stood.

"And do not feel any pressure by my suggestion," Dippet implored. "I am merely offering you an alternative and will feel no slight if you choose any other name. Whatever you choose, just write it on your results sheet and return it to me," he finished, handing Harry his envelope back.

"Thank you, Professor. I will think about it carefully."

Armando smiled as the teen took his leave of the office with much to think about.

"Such burdens for one so young," Dumbledore mused aloud. "I do hope he will be alright."

Armando nodded.

"As much as I wish it had not become a necessity, Harry is a resilient boy and will do just fine, Albus. Whatever name he decides to adopt, I have no doubt he will represent it proudly."

"He will," Dumbledore agreed, "and that was quite the gesture on your part."

"A warranted one, I believe," Armando replied. "I have come to care for the boy, Albus, as I do for all the students here, but Harry has grown on me. Watching him these past two months has served as a reminder as to why I accepted this post in the first place. Not only to ensure that all that pass through this hall receive the best education, but they do so as happy as they can be."

(Break)

"Harry will be here in a moment," Perenelle reminded her husband.

Nicholas placed the book he had been reading back on the shelf in the library. It was a rather dry text written in ancient Greek that he had recently acquired pertaining to the soul.

Ever since he had encountered Harry and what had been ailing the boy, Nicholas had taken quite the interest in the subject. It was a curious thing the soul, something that little could be gleaned about, where those that had written on it speculated for the most part. Although the works he had read differed considerably in opinion, it was almost unanimously agreed upon that the soul was the very essence of what made someone who they were.

As the alchemist had said to Harry, he would never pretend to be an expert on such things, but he'd had the opportunity to see for himself what an impact the soul could have.

Over the past two months since completing the ritual, he had observed the changes within the boy, both physically and emotionally, something that Harry hadn't seemed to notice himself yet.

"There he is," Nicholas greeted the teen warmly as he entered the dining room to find Perenelle offering her own welcome to the teen. "My, you are looking well."

He was. Even ignoring the new haircut and clothes he had opted for, Harry appeared to be infinitely healthier than when Nicholas had first met him in Dippet's office.

He had grown, that much was obvious, and though he was still a little on the lean side, he was no longer deathly pale. His eyes were bright, and he simply looked more healthier.

"Hello, Mr Flamel," Harry replied, offering his hand.

Nicholas shook his head as he accepted the proffered limb, the grip of the boy assured as he stood tall, meeting his gaze confidently.

Evidently, Harry hadn't only grown taller, but he stood taller now too and it filled the man with joy to see it so.

"It's Nicholas, Harry," he chided lightly.

The boy chuckled, nodding his acceptance.

"Nicholas," he huffed good-naturedly.

Nicholas smiled at the slight hint of petulance, catching sight of his wife who was seemingly keen to inspect Harry.

"Let me have a look at you," she demanded, taking the boy by the shoulders and taking in his appearance. "You look well, Harry," she said happily. "Are you eating regularly?"

"I am."

"Getting enough sleep?"

Harry nodded, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Good. Now, take a seat, lunch will be ready soon."

The boy did so, and Nicholas took his own on the opposite side of the table.

It had been almost five weeks since Harry had last been here, a purposeful absence on the part of the Flamels for various reasons.

Firstly, he had his OWLs to focus on, and they did not wish to intrude upon his study time. Harry was at an important stage of his education, and it was essential most of his focus was spent on that venture.

Secondly, and for his own selfish reasons, Nicholas wanted to be able to see how much Harry would change if at all after the ritual.

He had, and those changes could not be missed. It was certainly fascinating to see, though he was pleased all seemed to be positive thus far. However, he could only be sure by questioning the boy.

"How have you been?" he asked curiously, "since the ritual."

"Fine, I think," Harry answered confusedly.

"Any changes that you have noticed, other than the obvious growth?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

"I don't know if it is because of the lack of headaches, but I'm able to read for longer and can retain information better."

Nicholas nodded.

That could simply be because of the horcrux removal, but also because the soul piece he had absorbed into his own belonged to quite a brilliant albeit awful man.

Nicholas could not be sure which, but it didn't matter. It was another positive thing to add to the growing list of benefits.

"Anything else?"

"I do feel like I have more energy. Not just that I can do more things, but that I want to," Harry replied. "I don't like not being occupied with something. It's like my mind is constantly working, and when it doesn't have something to focus on, I must find something. Does that make sense?"

Nicholas snorted.

"It does," he confirmed. "Do you find you enjoy learning for the sake of it, or is there something in particular that you are focusing on?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, and that is what is frustrating," he sighed. "I don't know what I want to focus on, but I want it to be meaningful. I want the work to go into something productive."

"And with no goal in mind, you find yourself occupying yourself with a myriad of things."

"Exactly!"

Nicholas laughed.

"You've never felt this before?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, that, Harry, is called having ambition. You just don't know what you want it to lead to, and that is fine. You do not have to have all the answers now."

"Is it supposed to be so overwhelming? It's like my mind won't give me a rest."

Nicholas hummed.

"This Voldemort, I can only assume he was ambitious?"

"He tried to take on the entire Ministry and control Britain," Harry explained.

"And you have no such urge?"

"No!" Harry said firmly.

"Then I do not believe it to be something to be concerned about," Nicholas deemed. "You seem to have inherited some of his ambition, but not his motivations. That is a good thing, Harry."

The boy seemed to be disgusted by the very notion of having taken anything from the man that had murdered his parents. Understandable, but perhaps he would come to see these things as a positive in the future.

"And what about your non-verbal magic?" Nicholas asked, changing the subject.

"I've had a breakthrough," Harry announced. "It's still slower than using verbal magic, but I can get it to work."

Nicholas smiled proudly.

"Show me."

"Can I do that here?" Harry asked.

"You can."

Hesitatingly only briefly, Harry removed his wand, and after taking aim, the saltshaker was levitated from the table a moment later.

"See," the boy grumbled.

"It gets easier the more you do it," Nicholas assured him.

"No magic at the table, please," Perenelle huffed as she placed a bowl of soup in front of Harry and a stack of bread.

Harry shot Nicholas an accusing glare, but the man busied himself with his own soup, smirking.

It was nice to see someone else on the receiving end of his wife's irritation for once.

"Do not think that I don't know you encouraged him, Nicholas," Perenelle added as she took her seat.

Nicholas could only scowl in response.

After six centuries, nothing had gotten past his wife, but that did not deter the man from trying. One day, he may even succeed.

He smirked once more at the thought before continuing his meal.

"You're quieter than usual, Harry," Perenelle spoke a few moments later. "Is something on your mind."

Nicholas glanced at the boy.

Something was certainly bothering him.

"I have to change my name," Harry said unhappily.

"Ah, Albie did mention he and Dippet had been discussing that."

Harry nodded before frowning.

"Why do you call him Albie?" he asked.

"Because I know he hates it," Nicholas answered with a shrug, "but we are not discussing Albus and the many ways I know to get under his skin. I know you will not like to hear it, but they're both right. You keeping the Potter name would present a plethora of problems for you and obstacles to overcome."

"I know," Harry acknowledged. "It's just that…"

He petered off with a shrug.

"That your name is special to you," Nicholas finished.

"Yes."

"I understand," Nicholas returned sympathetically, "but you will remain who you are even if only a few know it."

His words did little to appease the boy.

"Dippet said I could use his."

"But you are reluctant to do so."

Harry nodded.

"I appreciate it, but it feels wrong."

"As it would using ours," Perenelle broke in understandingly. "You could if you wished to, couldn't he?"

"He could," Nicholas agreed, "but that would present its own issues. Our name is a very well known one, and there would be expectations of you because of it."

"Because of a name?" Harry asked.

"A name is very important in the wizarding world," Nicholas pointed out. "Certain names will hold you to a certain standard, but a name is all that many will ever have. Why do you think the purebloods cling to theirs so proudly? Because their name is their armour, Harry, something they can hide behind to protect themselves when they have little else to do so with."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry replied.

Nicholas wasn't certain it did.

"Tell me, if we hadn't met and you had happened upon a different person carrying the name Flamel, what would you think of them?"

Harry pondered the question before a look of realisation adorned his features.

"Ah," he said.

"I have seen it myself," Nicholas sighed. "Albie was a brilliant young man, and everyone expected the same of Abe."

"Abe?"

"Albie's younger brother," Nicholas explained. "By all accounts, an exceptionally gifted wizard in his own right, but always overshadowed by his older sibling. It made him rather bitter. Too many believed that he would follow Albus and take the wizarding world by storm and deemed him unworthy when he did not reach those lofty heights."

"And there would be those that would expect the same from you if you were to use our name," Perenelle added. "That is not a burden you should carry, but you may if you wish."

Harry snorted as he shook his head.

"No offense, but no thank you," he chuckled.

"I do not know if I should be proud or offended," Nicholas muttered amusedly. "Nevertheless, I think you should look at this as positively as you can."

"How?" Harry questioned.

"It gives you the opportunity to make a name for yourself, from your own merit without the pressure of carrying a pureblood name. You can put some of that newfound ambition to use and make it off your own back. That's what I did, and it still brings me great satisfaction that I could rub my success in the face of those that doubted me. They're all dead now, and here I am, still living life and enjoying it."

"Nicholas!" Perenelle chided, "is this the time to flex your ego."

Nicholas nodded.

"When isn't it?"

Perenelle huffed.

"You'll have to forgive his smugness, Harry, although he is right, he could have said it in a more pleasant context. What he means is that you can see this is a fresh start for yourself, a new life where there are no expectations of you."

Harry nodded, though he did not appear to be convinced.

"It's just not an easy thing to do," he mumbled.

"No, it isn't," Perenelle said comfortingly, "but as Nicholas said, you will always know who you are, and that is all that matters."

"I know you're right, it just feels like my name is all I have left."

Perenelle stood and put an arm around his shoulder.

"Then hold onto it in your own way, never forget where you came from and you will always be Harry Potter."

The boy smiled gratefully.

Perenelle always found a way to get through to someone, and although Nicholas felt for the boy, a simply name change would be easier to deal with than the fallout keeping the Potter one would.

"Anyway, have you received your results yet?" he asked. "School is only a couple of days away now."

"Dippet gave them to me yesterday." Harry explained as he removed an envelope and handed it to the man.

Nicholas nodded appreciatively.

"Outstanding across the board," he announced proudly.

"Not in Astronomy or History," Harry pointed out.

"Who cares about those?" Nicholas said dismissively. "Unless you plan on spending your life sat behind a desk keeping the legacy of others alive or with your face pointed to the sky, they're useless. Take it from someone who has lived for six centuries, Harry, your time would be much better invested than wasting it on either of those subjects."

Perenelle rolled her eyes at her husband.

For someone who spent so much time with his head in books, he could be rather unflattering towards them.

"I think this is definitely something worth celebrating, don't you, Nicholas?"

"Indeed," the alchemist agreed, removing a package from within his robes.

He enlarged it and handed it to Harry who opened it carefully.

"The Noble Tongue," the teen read aloud.

"They are books on Parselmagic that I have gathered over the years. I once thought that I could perhaps learn the language, or the magic at least. I managed to pick up a word or two here and there, but nothing substantial and the spells would not work for me. Having met you, I suspect that it is soul magic and only able to be wielded by those with a natural gift."

"This was written by Salazar Slytherin!" Harry gasped, having read the inscription. 'To my children, I have taken quill to page so that your journey into our magic will be fraught with less failure than my own.'

"They all are written by the Slytherin family," Nicholas explained, gesturing to the various tomes Harry held. "There a very few bloodlines even outside of Europe that has the gift. I believe learning this would be quite the boon."

Harry nodded his agreement as he thumbed through the book.

"There are some really nasty spells in here."

"Then save them for your enemies," Nicholas suggested. "What you have there is an almost unique way of defending yourself. Use it well."

Harry shook his head.

"Shouldn't these be in a museum or something?"

Nicholas snorted derisively.

"What good will they do gathering dust and having dribbling buffoons gawping at them? No, they will serve you much better."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "I will look after them."

"I have no doubt you will. Now, why don't we finish our lunch? You are still thinner than I would like."

(Break)

It was late in the evening that Armando found himself finishing his preparations for the upcoming school year. He wasn't in the habit of leaving such things until the last minute, but much of his free time had been invested in helping Harry over the summer. Not that he regretted it. The boy had needed him, if only to be there for support when he was feeling down about his lot in life.

The headmaster had been worried, but as the weeks had gone by, Harry had begun to adapt, had lamented less on the life he'd left behind, and seemingly accepted what had happened.

He would never forget, never stop wanting what he once had, but Armando took comfort that the boy was healthy and slowly growing accustomed to what would be a strange place for him, filled with strange people.

"Come in," he said, a light frown marring his features.

It was almost eleven pm and he was not expecting anyone.

"Ah, Harry, how are you?" he asked.

The boy shrugged and took his seat, eying the envelope he held in his hands.

"I could be better," he sighed, "and I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"Think nothing of it," Armando said dismissively. "I have said time and time again that I am at your disposal when you need me. Can I assume that you have made a decision?" he asked, nodding towards the missive.

Harry nodded.

"It wasn't an easy decision to make," he mumbled, "and I don't mean to offend you, sir, but if I can't have the Potter name, then there's only one other that would mean that much to me, he finished, sliding the envelope across the desk.

"Evans?" Armando questioned.

"For the mother that died for me," Harry replied as he stood and took his leave.

Armando felt no offense. If anything, he felt himself filled with pride at the gesture.

A tribute fit for a wonderful woman who sacrificed her life so that her son could live his.