Life always takes interesting twists and turns, especially if your name is Harry Potter. Ever since the beginning of his life, when he first came out of that strange hollow tube that he would later learn was called a Uterus, Harry had an inkling that he was different.
This... was not an entirely accurate assessment (Harry may remember that far back, but he did not have mind developed enough to come up with such complex conclusions), but it got the point across. For as long as Harry could remember, which was a very long time considering he never forgot anything, he knew he was somehow different from everyone else. He could do things that shocked his parents, he could remember everything that had ever happened to him and the things he saw in his presence, magic came to him as easily as breathing, and things that would have never happened to someone else, happened to him.
Things like becoming the sudden apprentice of Nicolas Flamel, the famed alchemist who became world renown for his creation of the Philosopher's Stone.
"Alchemy is the ancient metaphysical science and mystical art of manipulating and altering matter using magic," Nicolas Flamel lectured as he paced back and forth in front of his newest pupil. And the first one he'd had since Albus Dumbledore. "Unlike Transfiguration, Alchemy is a permanent art. When you Transfigure something, the object only stays in it's transfigured state until the magic you have put into the object runs out. With Alchemy, any object whose structured you've altered will stay that way until you decide to alter it again. In this way, Alchemy is much more valuable than your standard magics."
When Harry had come home to find Nicolas Flamel sitting in his room, he had been shocked, a natural occurrence considering he had not expected anyone from the magical world to even find out where he lived. How had Flamel found him? How had he gotten past that strange energy field that had surrounded his house? Harry had asked Flamel these questions, but only got a frustrating answer in return: "That is for me to know, and you to discover on your own."
"The act of Manipulaing and altering matter is known as Transmutation."
Not the most forthcoming answer. Then again, it was just sort of answer he would expect from someone who was over six hundred years old. Anyone who had lived that long would become extremely eccentric. Harry was only eleven years old and a lot of people often told him he was eccentric. Apparently it was the mark of a genus... and old age. Flamel's eccentricity was probably tenfold because he was both a genius and old.
The man was ancient!
Oblivious to the thoughts of his apprentice, Nicolas Flamel continued his lecture on what had to be one of the most interesting subjects Harry had ever heard.
"There are three sequences that are very important when it comes to understanding how the act of transmutation works."
Flamel held one near his face. It was clenched into a fist until his index finger stuck into the air, pointing up and signifying his first point.
"Comprehension: Understanding the inherent structure and properties of the atomic or molecular makeup of a particular material to be transmuted, including the flow and balance of potential and kinetic energy within."
A second finger came up.
"Deconstruction: Using magic to break down the physical structure of the identified material into a more malleable state so as to be easily reshaped into a new form."
A third finger.
"And finally, Reconstruction: Continuing the flow of magic so as to reform the material into a new shape."
Wanting to make an impression on his young apprentice, Flamel stopped walking and turned to face the Potter heir. He clapped his hands once, then knelt down and pressed both hands against the ground.
A light blue line of arcane energies erupted around Flamel, surrounding him in a hazy field of light rays that blurred his image. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the magic in the surrounding air became supercharged. It felt almost like he was receiving the indirect feedback from someone else sticking their hands into a wire socket.
Garlands of magic arced around the center where Flamel's left hand was placed. Harry watched, his mouth beginning to drop as he saw the area where his new teacher had placed his hand began to crumble away.
No. not crumble away. It was beginning to form something new.
The stone floor around Flamel's hand was actually changing. It's entire structure formed into strange looking particles that were eerily reminiscent of sand. The stone sand, for lack of a better term, was all crawling towards the center above Flamel's hand, where it began forming something. The tip of an object, a cylindrical pommel, Harry realized.
More and more of the object soon became visible. It was definitely some kind of staff. The object was still being pulled out, it was already a good five feet long, yet all that was visible so far was the pole.
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