Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: If you want to pay me for writing this, who am I to complain? The only people I can foresee complaining would be Rowling's lawyers…so maybe I'll complain just a touch when they're suing me…if only…-sigh—

Author's Notes: Hey guys! I'm terribly sorry about this disgustingly late update. I've been having some health issues recently that impede my ability to be on the computer (which, let me tell you, is a real pain in the ass). Thankfully, said health issues are on the mend, which should definitely improve my updating times. I can promise never to abandon this story, at the very least. I will finish it, that much I can say.

On other, lighter topics…I'm on a beta hunt! Somehow I've been through five or six betas, yet none of them stick. If you have the time/patience to work with me and are willing to commit to editing my various typos, it'd be greatly appreciated. I figured I'd ask first before looking through the new section on entitled "betareaders." Just PM me if you're interested. Thanks!

Alchemical Reactions

Chapter Sixteen

Obliviation for Dummies

Many months earlier

He stared glumly into the small brook at the back of his father's estate. No reflection looked back at him, his figure completely enclosed in the silvery fabric of an Invisibility Cloak. It had cost his father an arm, a leg, and a wife to get him where he was right now, but he could not help but bitterly resent it. What use was it all when he was still so trapped?

He held out a hand over the brook, watching as steam slowly started to rise from within. Magic without a wand was his only way out of this thrice-cursed place. His lips curled into a bitter smile. His father, upstanding member of society that he was, had been testing some experimental potions from dodgy sources in Knockturn Alley to create the perfect, obedient, son. One that didn't go through the rebellious phases that all teenagers were bound to go through—or at least that's how his father saw his part in several Death Eater-related cases ten years earlier. How foolish of him, to think that he could control the perfect servant for his Master! How naïve to believe that he would willingly submit to such treatment!

The House-Elf had taken the potion so willingly, so easily. It had been all too easy to pretend to be under the potion's influence, after seeing that it had no effect on the House-Elf whatsoever, other than to cause it to be slightly less alert. He had, after all, been around House-Elves all his life. It was a shame that that House-Elf had died only a year after taking the potion, though he supposed that could have been from a number of factors, the most likely one being the fact that it happened to be experimental and highly illegal. Oh, how far the mighty have fallen…

He smiled in satisfaction when the anger generated by his thoughts caused a small section of the water to evaporate, and he was quite grateful for the barriers he had decided to generate on either side of the now-dry patch of rocks. He had buried something here years ago and had only remembered it recently, choosing to forget about it for the most part, just in case. One never knew when a Legilimens was wandering about…

It was some hours later when he finally found the small silver brooch, encrusted in dirt and Merlin-only-knew-what-else. It was in the shape of a small silver snake, carrying a dead dragon in its jaw. Smiling in victory, he pierced his finger with the silver pin, not even making a sound as blood dripped onto the already grime covered brooch. Finally, a way…

He already had the will.

June 1994 (Present Day)

…as such, the twentieth annual Tri-Wizard Tournament was hosted by Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in 1304. The competing schools consisted of the newly instated Durmstrang Institute, Spain's School for Young Wizards, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Roman Magical Academy. The winner of the Tournament was Beauxbaton's Champion, Reneé Glasser, bringing about a lot of controversy regarding her integrity. At the time, it was quite rare for a woman to win, let alone for one school to win three times in a row. Beauxbatons was suspected highly of cheating, though nothing was proven. The Roman Magical Academy left the Tournament after the twentieth, unable to tolerate having women compete in the Tournament. This would have carried much more of a scandal than it did if Wizarding Europe wasn't dealing with the Vampire Wars at the same time and Glasser would have…

Harry shut the book, entitled The Tri-wizard Tournament: A History, with a snap. He stretched with a loud yawn, shifting his body from the position it had been in within the regrettably comfortable chair within the Flamel library for more than two hours. He had had almost no luck in finding out anything about what occurred during the actual competition, such as tasks, and it was annoying him much more than it normally would have. He didn't even know why he was putting so much effort into researching it, but something told him he probably ought to know the rules of the Tournament before returning to Hogwarts in September.

He could see the signs, and they were screaming at him clear as day. The mysterious deaths reported in the Muggle newspapers, tales of missing persons in the Daily Prophet, even a brief mention of it in the Quibbler. The Muggles were far closer to acknowledging that a serial killer was on the loose than the Wizarding World was to acknowledging that there was a chance that said 'missing persons' were really dead.

Dumbledore was clearly running the Tournament as a distraction to run his own investigation, or something along the lines. Of course, he could be wrong. He wasn't one to understand the convoluted mind of one Albus Dumbledore. Yet…the Tournament was the sort of dangerous, risky, attention-craving event that the Wizarding World loved. He knew that the coming school year would be a media circus and the Professors and students would be expected to play along like trained dogs, while Dumbledore acted as the ringmaster in more ways than one.

"Okay, enough thoughts about school," Harry scolded himself out loud. He lived alone in Flamel Manor, and as such there was no one there to hear him as he spoke. "You still have two months until you're expected to show to help set up for when the students arrive. Relax, breathe, and maybe stop putting off that Alchemy thesis so you can get your Mastery…"

Despite his words to himself, he could not distract himself from thoughts of the Tri-wizard Tournament and its implications on all levels. Sighing, he left the library in search of something else to do around the Manor.

Flamel Manor was really in three locations at once. It was a work of sheer genius from Perenelle, and as a child Harry had secretly been fascinated with the idea of it. All three parts could exist independently, but were connected through a room with three doors, that connected the three magically. Harry just had to walk into the room, close the door of whichever location he had come from, and open the door of the location he wished to enter. As long as the two doors weren't open at the same time, the magic worked wonderfully. If they were open at the same time…well, Harry had heeded the warnings and didn't want to know the results.

The main part of the Manor was in Manchester, as most believed. It was for the public, and the Flamels kept their most secretive items and research away from there. No one but Harry and the House-Elves knew about the existence of the connected homes, and Harry planned on keeping it that way. A town house in London was connected to the Manor as well, though Harry had only been there once. The last location was a fair-sized cottage in Little Hangleton, which was constantly kept under the Fidelius Charm, as it was the Flamel's safe house. It was here that Harry stayed, as he felt no need to be at either of the other locations for the moment. If he was needed at either location, a House-Elf would alert him. Until then, he was content to stay in the cottage, only moving to the Manor to find more books to switch over to the cottage's library.

The Secret Keeper of the cottage was no wizard or witch, but the House-Elf Teppy. Harry had quite liked the idea of hiding the Secret in a House-Elf. House-Elves were fanatically loyal and Harry found that he quite liked them for company as they were usually very cheerful and full of interesting things to say. It was a stroke of genius to hide the Secret in a House-Elf, as no wizard save the Flamels would ever respect or trust a House-Elf so much as to do that.

Despite all this, there wasn't very much to do while at the Manor by himself when he didn't feel like studying. He could make use of the training room that one of his instructors over the years had absolutely insisted he have, but he really didn't feel like physical exertion at the moment. He contemplated going into town, but it was generally a bad idea considering that he was more or less appearing out of nowhere in the middle of small town. Not a good idea. He could visit the London home and explore London from there, but he didn't really feel like crowds, and Manchester was out as it was certainly being watched.

Sighing, Harry made his way back to the library. He was restless, and he knew it. What he really needed was a summer project that had nothing to do with obtaining his Mastery in Alchemy. That project was well underway, his research carefully organized and labeled, ready to be published as soon as it was complete. He sat down in an armchair in front of the empty fireplace and stared off into space for a few moments, organizing his thoughts.

Perhaps…he considered, as an idea occurred to him. It wasn't one of his most brilliant ideas. In fact, in his mind, it was one of his worst. Yet, it would most certainly be…interesting. And potentially educational. Or at least that's what he told himself.

That decided, he left the library to find some parchment and a self-inking quill to write a letter. In the meantime, he supposed he could work on his Alchemy project, with the hope that he would have something else to do soon enough…

Gaston Basterville wasn't much good at anything, except for two things—knowing when information was important and how to shut up. This was why he reported directly to Lucius Malfoy himself, one of his top informants, in fact. He worked as a simple clerk in the Ministry of Magic, dealing with Wizarding and Muggle affairs. His department covered all sorts of things, and it was simply by chance that his eyes happened to glance over a file that he would have normally ignored and spot the name "Potter."

It wasn't long before Basterville was rushing to tell Malfoy that someone was sniffing around orphanages looking for the Potter boy. It was clear that by now they'd exhausted most Wizarding orphanages in the United Kingdom, and they were likely off to search through the Muggle ones.

Lucius Malfoy was quite pleased with this golden nugget of information and offered Basterville a nice sack of galleons as a reward. Both went home from their shady meeting spot in a corner of Knockturn Alley quite happy.

Albus Dumbledore was sick and tired of Harry Bloody Potter. His search had been going on for years with no apparent end in site. And what's worse is that he knew what he had to do to really narrow down the search. The only problem was that it had a lot of risks involved and he had a high chance of failure—very high. If he failed, the repercussions would be much worse, and would definitely loose him a powerful ally. He had held his suspicions for years about Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody's involvement in Harry Potter's disappearance, and that had created a rather large rift in their relationship. As it was, Albus knew that Moody would still stand with him and the Order if Voldemort ever rose again. But if something went wrong today, Moody would never fight along side him again and he was a valuable asset. He had already attempted to interrogate him once and destroyed their friendship then. If Moody caught him here…he would destroy their allegiance forever.

Steeling himself for what he knew would be a volatile beginning at best, Albus threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. Sticking his head in the now green flames, he called out "Alastor Moody!" and hoped that he would not meet the brick wall that was Moody's security measure when he was out or didn't want to be disturbed.

He was in luck. Moody was apparently in, and right in front of him. Shaking his head to clear it from the lingering dizziness caused by the Floo, Albus opened his mouth to speak before he was rudely interrupted.

"What the hell do you want?" Moody asked him gruffly, glaring at him from the chair across the fireplace. He had his wand pointed at Albus's head, which didn't do much to make him feel any better about his plan.

"I need your help, old friend," Albus said, pretending to ignore the wand that still hadn't found itself pointing away from him.

Moody snorted derisively. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that? I know your type, Albus. You're the sort who decided that just because you saved the bloody world once-upon-a-time, you can go about messing in other people's business! I used to believe otherwise, but I know better now. Get you're rotting head out of my fireplace."

"Alastor…" Dumbledore pleaded.

"I told you to get out!" Moody snarled. He was crouched down by the fireplace now, his eye spinning madly. I don't care what bloody machinations you've got going on. I will have no part in it!

It was time to try a different tactic. "They're not my machinations, not this time, at least," Albus said. "Voldemort has been sighted."

Moody inhaled sharply at Albus's words. Rising slowly from his crouched position in front of the fireplace, he went over to a cabinet on the far side of the room and took out a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. Not even bothering with a glass, he took a large gulp of it straight from the bottle. "Where?" he asked. His eye would not stop spinning.

"I cannot say over the Floo, you know that."

"Bloody Ministry," Moody mumbled under his breath. Sighing, he seemed to have come to a decision. "Fine. I'll Floo over to your damned office in a few minutes. Then I want details, Dumbledore. Everything. I know you kept a hell of a lot from the Order the last time around, and don't think I wasn't the only one who noticed."

Albus nodded, knowing that if he said anything else Moody might refuse to come. Instead he withdrew his head from the fireplace and barely restrained the grin of smug satisfaction at getting Moody to Hogwarts, which was, of course, the first step in his plan.

He wasn't the most powerful wizard in three centuries for nothing. Alastor Moody he could handle, Mad-Eye or no Mad-Eye.

Several hours, an obliviated Auror, and a temper tantrum later, Albus Dumbledore was seen making his way to a Muggle orphanage in Dorset. From what he had gleamed from Moody's mind, he had kept a close eye on the Potter boy as he had been exchanged from hand to hand as he was growing up. A simple tracking device had made this much easier than the task implied. Albus had been tempted to take the simple amulet from Moody, but knew that the fact that it was missing would not go unnoticed. Instead, he found himself dressed in a suit with a glamour charm to look as if he were somewhere in his mid-fifties—roughly one hundred years younger.

It was not a long walk from the alley in which Albus had apparated, and he soon arrived at the orphanage that looked as if it had seen better days. Something seemed rather off about it, but he could not quite place what. Shrugging, he entered, heading towards the front desk.

"How may I help you?" asked the elderly lady seated there.

Albus pretended to look a little bewildered. "Is this Dorset's only orphanage?" he asked.

"Only for another month. We've lost all funding," the woman said, obviously quite upset about the matter. "The government is shutting us down and all the children are being sent off to other orphanages, or whatever homes we can find."

"Oh dear," Albus said, his expression extremely upset. "You see, I've been out of the country for the past seven years, and I've just recently found out that my cousin died—a Doctor Cameron Mallory. She had an adopted son and I have reason to believe that he ended up here. I don't have much family left, and I'd imagine that he doesn't either…I was hoping to offer him a home."

"I'm afraid most of our orphans have already been sent away," the woman said, frowning. "There's also the chance that he was adopted between now and then. What did you say his name was again?"

"Harry Mallory, though he might have gone under the name of Harry Potter."

"That hellion!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "He was adopted about four years ago, though I can pull out his file for you, if you'd like."

"Thank you very much," Albus replied. Inside he was cursing—a wizard had definitely laid claim to the Boy-Who-Lived before he had. Who else would have been able to trick Moody's tracking devices into leading him here instead of their own home?

"Ah, here we are," the woman said after a few minutes shuffling through a filing cabinet. "I was really quite surprised that we didn't see him again after the last adoption. He went through so many foster homes we thought he'd be here until his majority."

"Hmm…the last person to adopt him was Mark Delaney," she said, setting the papers back down. "Oh, wait a moment; it says here he came back two weeks later. Ah, here we are." Another piece of paper had come loose. "Sorry, it was a Nicholas Flamel. I remember him now—quite an old fellow, especially to be adopting at his age, but everything checked out okay, and he seemed to be quite pleasant…"

Albus had stopped listening to her rambling the second she had uttered the name Flamel. "Are you quite sure it was Flamel?" he asked, in a state of shock and barely covering it up with is question.

"Yes, quite sure. Would you like telephone number so that you can see about getting in contact with young Harry?" she offered, as something about the man made the secretary want to give away information she normally wouldn't give away without some proof of relation.

"No, no, it's quite alright. I've actually known Nicholas for many years. I'm quite surprised, that's all."

"Oh, how convenient!" she said, pleased. "Well, I wish you good luck in finding Harry, but I really must be getting back to work now."

"Thank you for all your help," Albus said, almost automatically. He apparated to Hogwarts the second he knew he was out of sight of any Muggles, deeply troubled by the implications of what he had discovered.

Harry Potter was Harold Flamel.

Something told him that the upcoming school year was going to be quite interesting.

Somewhere in London

Harry stood outside of the flat belonging to Sirius and Remus, hesitating in front of the door. The door knocker stared innocently back at him, almost daring him to pick it up and knock. Yet…Harry didn't know if he could.

Opening that door would be opening the floodgate of things Harry didn't want to face. The idea that someone out there had once cared for him was a comforting thought just as much as it was a terrifying one. The idea that these two strangers would care for him just because he was someone's child was so…absurd that didn't know what to think. He was forced to admit that yes, he was afraid of emotional attachments. A childhood like his could do that to someone. Still…he craved to know what his parents had been like. Perhaps it was a bit of a suicidal wish, as the more he knew the more he would want to have them in his life, but he couldn't help but wanting to know. I should have been a Ravenclaw, he thought ruefully.

Gathering his courage, he knocked before he could back out. The two didn't know he was coming today, per se, though he had contacted them about the possibility of showing up randomly. A half asleep Sirius answered the door.

"Harry?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. Harry was amused to note the animated dogs chasing squirrels on his pyjamas and snickered as he shoved away all dark emotions.

"Nice jammies, Sirius. What on earth are you doing just waking up at two in the afternoon?"

"Oh, I'm not still drunk then. Come on in," he said, ushering Harry inside.

"Drunk?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He found out you were a Slytherin last night," Remus said from his position at the kitchen table.

"Wait, you didn't tell him as soon as you got back from Hogwarts?" Harry said, laughing.

"It didn't come up," Remus shrugged. "Besides, I have come to the mature conclusion that it doesn't really matter so much."

"Bravo," Harry said mockingly, applauding. Sirius just groaned and started to hit his head against the kitchen table.

"Tea, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Sure. Milk and no sugar, thanks."

"Sirius? Would you like some tea?" Harry asked quietly, putting his face right next to Sirius's on the kitchen table. "I can colour it so it's green and silver, if you like?" Sirius just groaned and closed his eyes, while Harry snickered. "Oh, relax, Sirius. I'm not going to curse you into oblivion or anything of the sort. Honestly…you'd think that Slytherin has produced the most Dark Wizards out of all the other Houses or something!"

"Erm, Harry…" Remus said.

"Oh, right. It has. This can't be very comforting to Sirius, now can it?" he said, grinning. Despite his cheerful act, he was quite worried inside. He had allowed himself to become slightly emotionally vulnerable around Sirius and Remus and if the two of them shattered that trust…well, he didn't know what he'd do.

"You know I'm not my father, right Sirius?" Harry asked rhetorically, his voice suddenly serious. "I barely even know what my parents looked like; let alone what sort of people they were. Besides, I don't believe that your House defines who you are. The system itself is faulted. You never learn to explore other traits and instead focus and exacerbate one main trait, to the point of excess. It breeds people who are so fixated on the stereotypes of their House that they can't see that they can be brave and cunning, or intelligent and loyal. Nothing wrong with being more than one-dimensional."

He found himself coming off his soapbox with both Remus and Sirius staring at him. "Erm…oops? Sorry, this topic always gets me a little worked up."

"You know, he sounds a lot like Lily," Remus commented brightly.

Now Harry felt like banging his head against the table. "That was mean, Remus. Repeat after me: We are all individuals."

"We are all individuals!" Sirius exclaimed. Remus just rolled his eyes.

"Nice trick, Harry."

"Thank you. Now, anyone want to teach me to be an animagus?"

Manchester

Despite what Dumbledore believed, he had not successfully Obliviated Alastor Moody. It was a little known fact, but to be truly successful at an Obliviate Charm, one needed to have contact with both eyes. And Alastor only had one.

The Obliviate hadn't stuck, and he found himself apparating to the Flamel's Manor as soon as possible. Despite what Dumbledore had gleaned from his mind, this secret was hidden behind so many Occlumency shields and spells that Dumbledore wouldn't have found it. Yet, the old man was resourceful and Alastor knew that somehow he would find out that Harold Flamel was really Harry Potter. He had to warn the boy.

Dumbledore was not the man he used to be. He had once been a staunch supporter of the light, never willing to allow an innocent to be harmed in his hunt to rid the world of darkness. Yet over the years Alastor had felt his old friend slipping into the abyss…and who knew what he would emerge as?

Author's Notes: It's finally done! Once more, so sorry for the long wait. Some drama and some fluff. Can't have Harry moping all the time, now can I? Sorry this chapter isn't as long as I intended (I wanted 10 000 words…it's 4000), but I figured you guys would be happier with an update, eh? Anyways, hope you enjoyed it!

There's also a pop-culture reference in here, for those who are interested in figuring out which it is/where it's from. Hint: It's British, came from a movie, and it's era is 70s, 80s. Good for a laugh too.

Once again, if you're interested in betaing, send me a PM! Thanks :D