Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

(A.N: Yes I have been watching too much Fullmetal Alchemist – and no I don't own that either before anyone says anything.)

Pretium Immortalis
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

He had finally done it, finally made the prize that was coveted by all such as he. He had finally achieved what was thought to be impossible, not only turning worthless lead into gold but also creating the elixir that brought to him immortality. The cup of the immortals was supposed to taste of the sweetest of nectars though, was it not? And if that was the case then why did he taste bile on his tongue, why did his throat burn as though what he had just swallowed the flames of Hell itself?

He placed the now empty goblet that had held the elixir on the table in front of him, then lifted the stone that lay in front of him as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and indeed it seemed to him then that it was nothing less than that. The sanguine stone, even deeper red in shade than the blood that had been spilt in order for it to have been created, held such macabre beauty in the dying candlelight that lit his chambers,. Then agagin, he mused, that was not really surprising considering how it had been made. Each of the stone's facets represented a victim of his experimentation, of the work that had finally led to this: and indeed there were probably many more than that, but it did not matter. The stone was a symbol of eternal life, it did not matter that death was what had ultimately forged it.

In the end, he mused, it was no surpise that the powers that be would shun faux gods, but if sacrifice on such a scale was what was required to cheat death then so be it. Yet still he could not help but wonder whether the price he had paid was just too high; but that was not of his concern now, he was not of this world now. He was above mortality and would be forever: the world and all its failures were now as distant to him as the cold, unforgiving stars.

What had he done?