Grazhir :: Crossover :: FeS2: Add-Ons :: 07

07 Harry Potter

23062015

Harry Potter

“I dreamt the impossible, that maybe things could work out right.” — Johnny Hates Jazz, Shattered Dreams


The images on the screen might have mystified Harry if not for one thing, that he had already met two people who looked alarmingly similar, though older. “Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel?” he guessed.

Derek nodded and aimed his laser pointer at the writing on the edge. “Yes. Much, much earlier in their lifetimes than what you encountered.”

He frowned. “Why so early, then?”

“Well, do you remember when you and Tom were waiting around that one time on a meddling mission for me and were watching television? That science fiction show, Stargate SG-1?”

“Uh huh,” he said, trying to figure out the connection.

“Do you recall the sarcophagi the Goa’uld used?”

“Ye—oh. Hang on. They all went increasingly batshit insane as they kept using them. Is there something different about the Philosopher’s Stone in the dimension you’re showing us?”

“Yes.”

Tom waved two fingers in the air and said, “I’ll bite. I recall Harry telling me that you can’t use a tainted sacrifice to create one of the stones. Did these two make that mistake and not realize it until it was too late?”

Derek smiled under that hood of his. “Precisely. By the time they did, they no longer gave a damn. Just like those Goa’uld they became increasingly arrogant, cruel, and so forth. Or they would, if we give them the opportunity to get very far. As you know, using a sarcophagus a few times poses no particular threat, but continued use does. This particular stone is the same.”

“So, these two could become psuedo-immortal cackling maniacs out to use the general public for torture, experiments, slaves, and whatever other depraved and sick-minded things they could come up with,” Harry stated. “So where can we come in? Or when?”

“That’s up to you, master. You can either be inserted before they use it to the point where they are lost and attempt to convince them to abandon the stone, or to make a new one without the impurities, or you can go later and arrange for their deaths.”

Tom shook his head. “No. Early on, then. To wait until later is to actively condone letting them descend into a madness that will shape the entire world negatively. I don’t always understand just how you view time and what you can see, but is it possible to get some kind of memories from you of what they’d turn out like, so that we could show them to these two, as a warning?”

“Yes and no, and I don’t think you’ll like why. I can give you two imagery, but not in the sense of ones you can pull copies of and share. It doesn’t work that way. What I see is both what is, and what could be. All things are equally possible. But, if I were to physically send you two to a point in time for that dimension where you could get memories it would lock it into place. If I then sent you to a point in that dimension where you could use those memories as proof, it would cause a timeline split and lock both into place.”

“Meaning we’d be responsible for that warped timeline coming into existence,” Harry said, “and the damage there would already be done. We could kill them once we had the memories, but that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Tom frowned and looked down. “Still early. Is the taint because they had no idea of the problems it would cause, or because they simply didn’t realize one of the sacrifices was tainted?”

“A little of both,” Derek replied.

“What’s the impact of just going in and whacking them, with no attempts to change their minds?”

“Surprisingly good, actually. They did a lot of research in most dimensions, came up with a number of useful discoveries, but I can’t say that anything they did was crucial to anything, really. And there were other people on the same track for some of those things, so it’s just as likely they’d still come about, just at different times.”

“You know, I am really kinda glad we made this world,” Harry said softly. “Because whatever fuck-ups we may cause here, it’s here, and not on an Earth with billions of muggles who would suffer for our mistakes. So we have some choices. One, we go in early and try to convince them of the dangers of their lack of care when it comes to sacrifices, and if they blow us off, kill them.

“Or two, we do our damnedest to erase all knowledge of the process they’ve come up with, except that people have been trying to come up with a Philosopher’s Stone since forever if the Chinese are anything to go by. Or three, we simply kill them. They haven’t technically done anything wrong yet if we go in before they start the process, so I’d feel kind of bad killing them preemptively, but I would if it’s the most viable option.”

“Let’s hash out a game plan,” Tom said.

*

“Who are you?” Nicolas growled as Perenelle readied herself in the background.

‘I wonder what people used for swear words back then,’ Harry mused as he eyed the two.

‘Does it matter?’ Tom asked.

‘Well, no, just. . . . Eh, never mind.’ “Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. You are Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel.”

“How did you get in here?”

“You, a wizard, would ask such a stupid question?”

“We have layers and layers of wards. No one should be able to get through them without permission,” Nicolas shot back.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You mortals are so touchy. Nothing bars Death.”

That sparked off a twenty minute shouting match which was only resolved when he and Tom forcibly bound the two and hauled them outside. Harry walked around so they could see the grass and flowers and trees within a certain range all wither up and die. “Would you like us to haul you off so you can watch me start a fucking plague and see thousands of people die?”

They ended up back inside and seated comfortably. Harry did not trust them to provide proper refreshments so he produced his own teapot and supplies, along with a selection of freshly-baked biscuits and tarts. Once Harry and Tom were set up—he did not bother to play “Mother” for the Flamels—he said, “So, the reason we’re here. Your work on the Philosopher’s Stone is one thing. I don’t have an actual problem with the fact that you plan to make one. I know every aspect of the process and—”

Nicolas jumped up in outrage and started shouting again.

“I learned it from you, cupcake, in another time and place. We’re not limited by the concept of time the way you mortals are. Of the sacrifices necessary, you must—and I stress this heartily—you must not use tainted people.”

“I know that!” Nicolas gritted out.

Harry arched an unimpressed brow. “Funny, word has it that you’re going to be careless and use a tainted specimen, thereby dooming this world to a dark age that lasts for a thousand years or more. I am telling you, right now, to be very, very careful. Because if you mess up, we will be back.”

He got up, gathered up his teapot and supplies and remaining nibbles, and the two of them shifted away.

They spent the next months wandering the world, seeing what life was like back then, before the separation had really gotten started. At that point it was a slow push toward keeping magic out of range of the muggles, as opinions had begun to turn sour.

Nicolas had almost finished his Philosopher’s Stone when Derek contacted them with the news, which sent Harry and Tom back for a visit. They faded into view and startled the hell out of the two Flamels, who obviously had not been expecting them to ever return.

“So, you went ahead and got careless,” Harry said dispassionately, staring at him intently and reading the information he needed from the man’s mind. “You didn’t even bother to check. You were so close to completing it that you stopped paying attention.”

“The stone will be fine,” Nicolas said.

“Oh, it can be completed, yes, but it won’t be fine. You let what I warned you about happen. If you complete that stone and start using it—it’ll be okay at first, but the more you use it the more you’ll damage yourselves. You’ll become monsters of the same ilk as those you used as sacrifices—worse, actually. Sort of like being a walking Black Plague, except it’ll be your magic and your hands doing the killing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tom shook his head slightly. ‘I say we kill them. His mind is—he’s just so stubborn. If we destroy the stone in its present form he’ll just start over, and I doubt he’d give more care to it than he already has.’

Harry looked over at his partner, then nodded once and pulled out his book and fountain pen. It did not matter if the two saw an anachronistic writing implement. He wrote in their names and watched as both suffered heart attacks and died within the minute. The book and pen were tucked away and they systematically went through every part of the house looking for anything pertaining to the process. All of it was destroyed, including the unfinished stone.

Then they went home.