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It had hurt. It still did as they left the Flamels' lawyer's office after the reading of the will. They hadn't even managed to be in the funeral; how would they ever explain their presence? Harry's family had been overjoyed for Adrian's recovery and had departed, in general atmosphere of happiness, for wherever they went to train Adrian. Harry had managed to cover his grief in their presence. It hadn't been really difficult if one considered the overall numbness Harry felt. With the occasional fits of anguish, emotion eluded the boy.
Nicholas had left him his private book collection that now lay in his -newly fortified with all spells known to wizards and goblins and transferred to the depths of Gringotts- vault. He had asked Severus to stop by so he could pick up some of Nicholas's notes; he needed to do something. He couldn't just stand and let time pass him by; he just didn't know what yet. Severus had gotten all of Perenelle's magical plants that were now being transferred to the castle's greenhouses, under the watchful eyes of Minnie.
The night passed awfully slowly, for both inhabitants of the castle. Severus gave up trying to sleep sometime after three in the morning, and headed to his lab. Harry hadn't even pretended to try and sleep; he was seated on his bed -not even having removed the covers; Minnie would have his head for not even trying to sleep- with the book Nicholas had given him last Christmas, the scrolls he had taken from his vault and his own notebook open around him. At morning break he moved all of the assorted items to his lab. He only kept one scroll with him, taking it to breakfast; it was old, the paper delicate.
And there was something between the many symbols written on it… That sigil which had been designed in the middle of the page… The quickly scribbled a note at the bottom of the page… He had suspected that scroll existed and Nicholas seemed to have made it easy to find, placing it inside one of the books he knew Harry would need immediately. It couldn't be by accident.
The green eyed boy sat across the kitchen table from a very concerned -and tired- potions master. It wasn't that Severus himself wasn't grieved; he was just as much in pain as he had been when his own mother had passed away and Nicholas had been the only decent father figure he had had in his whole life. But he understood. In a way at least. The Flamels had made a choice; given, it was not a choice he agreed with, but it was still their choice.
They had realized that, with keeping the Philosopher's Stone, they would endanger those they cared about the most and the whole magical community with them. So Nicholas had simply chosen not to and Perenelle had followed. Although he knew it was the responsible thing to do, that their sacrifice might have saved the lives of many, Severus couldn't help but wish they had been just a little selfish. Still, he told himself he understood.
Harry was a different cause altogether, the potions master thought. He had been almost completely silent since the moment they left the lawyer's office last afternoon. He had just grabbed a few books and some of the alchemist's notes and had withdrawn into his room, not to emerge until this morning. He didn't seem to want to speak and Severus had no intention to pressure him. Harry had to deal with this in his own way and Severus understood that too. Still he hoped the boy would come out and express the grief he had been keeping inside. He had been forced to hide it for a week and now he didn't allow it to surface.
Harry's grief, combined with his fear over losing his brother and his -completely misplaced if anyone asked the potions master- guilt over Quirrell's death, had driven the boy into a state of deep contemplation that no child his age -no matter how charismatic they may be- should be allowed to enter.
Severus watched as Harry ate with no true appetite, his green gaze fleeting towards an old scroll he had brought with him presently lying next to his plate on the table. It was filled with the obscure and secret alchemic symbols that made no sense whatsoever to him but which the boy seemed to understand perfectly. Suddenly, Harry dropped his fork and hut his eyes, the hand that was touching -almost caressing- the scroll trembling.
"Harry?" Severus asked, trying to sound more composed than his rabid heartbeat dictated. The boy opened his eyes as a response, making Severus almost regret he had ever interrupted whatever he was thinking. For a moment there Severus had thought that Harry was finally ready to shed the tears he had been holding all this time. Then he realized it was neither pain nor anguish -although, Merlin, both feelings were there- that made his eyes burn like a blazing emerald fire. It was determination.
"I'm going to my lab." The boy declared a -now steady- hand clasping the scroll from the table. He took a few steps and stopped, turning to look at Severus over his shoulder. "This might take some time." The potions master nodded once; at least now he was doing something, he thought.
"Take all the time you need." Harry returned the gesture and swiftly exited the room. He knew he should feel gratitude for Severus's understanding -his Dad was amazing that way too, hi thought- but that knowledge was prevented from becoming an actual feeling by a dam placed around his heart. Maybe not a dam, Harry pondered; it felt more like a gaping hole, a bottomless abyss that surrounded his heart. Any new feeling that tried to enter was lost in its depths that, at the same time, kept all the feelings that hurt trapped inside.
He entered his lab and stood frozen, his decisiveness faltering for a second. Last time he had been there it was for his last alchemy lesson before school started -he winced at the word 'last'; if only he had known back then just how final that would be- and Nicholas had been with him. He had promised that, come this summer he would have gotten the main idea of the stages required for the construction of the Stone and the alchemist had chuckled, stating that he expected nothing less. Well, Harry had also expected him to be there but he wasn't. He clenched his eyes shut and breather in deeply once, before bursting into a flurry of activity.
Books were opened and notes were consulted as the apprenticing alchemist became lost in his work. He had a purpose now; he wasn't going to stop before he completed what he was after. He had to do it. He just had to. The day passed and so did the night. Severus didn't ask him to stop, didn't ask him to leave the lab. Instead he brought him his meals there and even asked for a comfortable couch to be placed inside the room where Harry now spent most of his time for the nights he would have to sleep there. The potions master himself was occupying the lab next to Harry's also engulfed in his research. Overworking yourself wasn't the best way of coping with a situation like this but it seemed to be both his and Harry's poison of choice.
The days passed, the nights flew by and in a course of just over a month, Harry rarely left the lab for more than visiting the western tower, looking through his telescope and keeping some swift notes of whatever he was observing. And one Wednesday morning in the middle of July, at the crack of dawn, Harry was ready.
HI GUYS IF YOU WANT READ 100 + CHAPTERS THEN VISIT
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