A/N: Who created Time-Turners? It's curious that so many writers use them as plot devices, whether it's to send Harry back to 1945, or to save Sirius. (But never Cedric? Why not save him too, if you have a time machine that has literally no rules.) Anyway, this story will explain how Time-Turners are made, and a whole lot more besides. After all, J.K. Rowling opened this little doorway in the first book. So. Harry learns the ancient art of Alchemy. Slight crossover with Fullmetal Alchemist, though only with some character names, and a couple of concepts. Also, centaurs have to have something going for them, so they get to be badass alchemists in this story. Come in, take a seat, and let me tell you a tale. I promise you won't regret it. As always, though, I'm only borrowing the characters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FLAMEL~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

A silence descended around the three first years. Eventually, Harry decided it had gone on too long. "And what's a Philosopher's Stone when it's at home, Hermione?"

Hermione Granger, bushy-haired and brilliant witch, huffed at him, before answering. "It's only the pinnacle of the ancient art of Alchemy, Harry. Nothing special, really."

Harry might not have been as smart as his friend, but even he heard the sarcasm in her voice. "Well, sorry, but I don't go around reading books that look older than Hogwarts before breakfast each day, Hermione. What does it do, and why is Dumbledore hiding it in Hogwarts? Can't this Flamel bloke keep it with him?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly before she answered. "Like I said, it's the pinnacle of the art. The book doesn't go into much detail, really. Just says something about it turning lead to gold, and being essential to creating the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker invulnerable temporarily."

Ron piped up at this point. "Invulnerable?"

"It means you can't be hurt by any means."

"I know what it means! But why's Snape trying to get hold of it? I mean, he doesn't seem like he needs it. Maybe to make gold, sure, but apart from that..."

"Aside from it's initial ability, the Elixir also has another power. It can restore the drinker to full health. Heal any injuries they have. It's rumoured that it could even restore a disembodied spirit to a flesh and blood body, if the right rituals were used."

A shiver went down Harry's spine. What was it Hagrid had told him, when they first met? 'Most reckon he's still out there somewhere, too weak to carry on.' If this stone had the powers it was rumoured to have, then was it possible that Snape was trying to steal the stone for Voldemort? He voiced that fear, and Ron seemed to think it was possible, but Hermione was, well, Hermione.

"Oh, honestly Harry. Professor Snape might not be the nicest person, but that doesn't mean he's trying to bring the most feared Dark Lord in Britain in the past century back to life." Now had she said this nicely, or even just politely, as though explaining a tricky Transfiguration concept, maybe Harry could have let it go. But the level of condescension in her voice, the fact that she was deeming something impossible simply because she didn't think of it, was what got to Harry. Shoving his chair away from the table, Harry got to his feet.

"So it's impossible for Snape to be going after the Stone, Hermione? And I suppose this time last year, it was impossible for Hogwarts to even exist? Just because you have an unhealthy belief that all authority figures are saints, and everything they say is the Word of God, doesn't mean the rest of the world thinks the same. All Snape does is mock you, and treat you with scorn. Why are you so damn determined to defend someone that might have been the one to let that troll in at Halloween? He could be the reason you nearly died, and you're sitting there defending him?" Harry grabbed his book bag, and headed towards the exit. On his way he paused. "Just because it isn't written in a book, doesn't mean it's not real, Hermione. I'm going to stop whoever this is. With or without you."

He left immediately after that, closing the door to the Common Room behind him, missing Ron's look of shock, and Hermione's suspiciously watery eyes. Storming through the halls of Hogwarts, he walked past Draco Malfoy, who opened his mouth to say something, looked at the expression on his face, closed his mouth and got out of Harry's way. In later years, he would come to realize that this was the most sensible decision he had made in his first year at Hogwarts.

Storming into an unused classroom, Harry kicked the door shut behind him with a bang that was probably heard in Gryffindor Tower. Crossing the room, he collapsed into a chair, and slammed his head down onto the desk next to it. 'Why did I snap at Hermione like that? Okay, I suppose she was being really annoying, talking to me like I'm a five year old, but even so, I shouldn't have yelled like that. I guess I should apologise. But I'm just...so tired...' Harry's eyes drifted shut of their own accord, and in the space of a few seconds, he was asleep, totally oblivious to the colours pulsing on the walls of the room, each pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TRANSMUTE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What very few people knew, was that Hogwarts was sentient. Well, that's a bit of a stretch, as everyone knew she was sentient, just not to what degree. If they had known, many students might have thought twice about meeting for a quick snog in the various broom closets around the school. After all, having a thousand year old castle watching over your shoulder while doing that is rather unpleasant to think about. But for the most part, Hogwarts was bored.

In the days of her creators, a student would simply place their hand on the wall and strike up a conversation with her, asking her advice on anything from a tricky question in Charms, to advice on what dress to wear on a date that evening. But after Salazar left, students had slowly stopped speaking to her. Helga was too busy working to tell the students about her sentience, Rowena didn't care to even consider that there might be someone smarter than her, and Godric...well frankly Hogwarts was a little concerned that Godric might have been hit over the head with a shield one time too many. Salazar had appreciated the benefits of being able to quickly know where each student was, in case the castle was besieged.

And hadn't that been a common occurence, she thought. In the year after she was completed alone, twenty angry mobs of muggles had attacked the school. If it hadn't been for Salazar's quick thinking, seven students could have died. Hogwarts had her favourites, and Salazar was top of the list. And now this young boy, wearing clothes three sizes too big, with glasses held together by sticky tape and a prayer, whose childhood she had seen when Fergus - the Sorting Hat, as he was better known - had sat upon his head, and pleaded with the child to accept that he was meant to be a Slytherin, to no avail, had entered her halls, and if he wasn't Salazar reborn, she didn't know who else could be.

His childhood was almost identical - raised by Muggle relatives who hated and feared magic, just like Salazar. Orphaned near birth, again, just like Salazar. And his ambition to be the best that he could be, no matter who or what stood in his way? Well, Salazar had said it best. 'If there is something keeping me from getting what I want, I'll get rid of it. It's that simple.' Certainly, ambition without honour was a dangerous thing, but this child had honour in excess, far beyond what he should have after living with those Muggles. And Hogwarts knew everything that happened within her boundaries. She knew that the current Headmaster was playing games within games, testing the black-haired boy. She knew that Quirrell had been dead long before he set foot in the castle, due to a disembodied wraith possessing his body. She knew that said wraith was trying to obtain the Philosopher's Stone which had been hidden in the third floor corridor.

Hogwarts was not happy. The current Headmaster was playing too many games, risking too many lives. She needed to stop him, and for the first time in her long, long life, she cursed Salazar for not giving her the ability to take on corporeal form. Had she been able to do so, maybe the last war in this world could have been avoided. But she did not need to dwell on what could have been done, but instead what still could be done. Her new boy had been interested in the same noble and ancient art as Salazar, and art that required no magic, yet the effects of it were magical all the same. She could tell he was interested in learning the art of Alchemy, just as surely as she could tell that one Terrence Higgs and a Rosalina Parkinson were enjoying one anothers company in a broom closet on the second floor. She quickly redirected Filch to that area - Ms. Parkinson was only in third year, after all!

But now she turned her mind to another problem. She wanted to help the little boy who had - like another green-eyed, black-haired man from a time long since gone - managed to capture the heart of the towering castle. But how to do so without alerting Dumbledore to the fact that she knew about his games and tricks. Eventually, she settled on giving the young boy a book. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do for now. If he could find the ward crystal, then he could interact directly with her, and she could do more for him. But for now, she would let him study one of Salazar's old books. Directing a house-elf with her mind, she left the book on the desk in front of him, where he couldn't possibly miss it. Task complete, she rested - so long as her ward crystal was only partially active, she had very little energy - and hoped that she had done enough for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MATRIX~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trixie was a good house elf, and like all good house elves, she knew that she was bound not to the Headmaster, as most assumed, but to Hogwarts herself. If Hogwarts countered an order given by the Headmaster, she would obey Hogwarts first. So when she had been ordered by Hogwarts to bring a book to the boy who Trixie knew had helped save every magical being in Britain, she decided to do one extra little thing. She wrote a note, and left it there, unsigned, on top of the book, along with a bowl of hot soup with a warming charm cast on it. After all, if he slept much longer, the young boy would miss dinner. She popped out of the room, and went back to making dinner for the other students.

And in that room with walls that pulsed in time with a sleeping boy's heartbeat, the note slid down in a slight breeze, revealing the title of a book. 'Alchemy: A Beginners' Primer'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PHOENIX~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Well, there you go. Incidentally, I'm not sure whether I want Ron and Hermione to be good, or mean, backstabbing little gits. Hermione and Harry will have a rather perilous friendship if she is good, though. And Ron's jealousy will always make an appearance. But I want to know what you lot think. Should they be gits, or good? As always, thanks for reading, and please review.