An idea from reading the crossover of HP x FMA in Esama's Toil and Trouble.

Summary: The Philosopher's Stone was not unique to only magical world. Somehow, somewhere, there also exists a world with their version of Philosopher's Stone. And Harry, being Harry, naturally attracted to trouble and a certain small trouble maker who despises milk.

Pairing: None at the moment. open to suggestion.

Rating: T at the moment.

Warning: uh... bad grammar, unbetaed chapter and a short one.

Enjoy!

Harry Potter, a wizard in his late twenties, knocked the door to the normal-looking apartment. It looked quite harmless and ordinary, but Harry knew for sure that the most ordinary looking things are the best camouflage. It was very true for this case as well. Behind the supposedly normal door, lived a very special and famous couple. Even more famous than Harry himself, who hold the title of Dark-Lord Vanquisher, Boy-Who-Lived and the youngest head auror in the century.

The door opened and revealed a reasonably middle aged looking man with small glasses perched on top of his nose. The man supported some beard and wearing a formal shirt and a black vest. His attire was similar to the 18th century clerk's fashion.

"Mr. Potter, I assume?" the man asked softly, and Harry nodded. "Please come in."

Harry stepped inside the apartment and found that every inch of the wall inside the apartment was filled with books and parchments. There was a lone desk with a single working chair by the middle of the room, with stacks of books and paper scattered around the table. It was a very unique and striking room.

"Please sit anywhere, I am sorry I don't have a second chair." The man asked Harry and went to the next room, which also covered from head to toe with books, and returned with a tray of simple looking pot of tea and two iron cups.

"I keep everything as simple as possible. My wife didn't like to come to my personal home, so this is all me." The man chuckled. Harry smiled back and took the cup of tea. It was tasteless, but Harry was polite enough to not fuss about it.

"So." The man continued again. "I heard about your heroic stunt and you helped the whole Wizarding World by destroying the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Harry nodded. "But it is not a very big deal, and it has been five years since then. I have done nothing much."

"You are the youngest head of Auror department, and I think personally that is quite an accomplishment." The man chuckled. He scratched his head. "So… why are you here, again?"

Harry nodded and pulled out a parchment from his robe. "I need to check the rumour that you had created a new Philosopher's Stone. From my knowledge, the last stone was lent to Albus Dumbledore twelve years ago, and it was legally destroyed. However, the ministry caught some new magical signature similar to the stone since last week from your current resident. I need the precise explanation regarding this magical activity."

The man looked down and became silent. Harry sighed.

"I know this might sound as if I am accusing you as a criminal; but rest assured, Mr. Flamel, I am here to give you peaceful chance to explain yourself. I appreciate your help in my first year by lending the stone to lure Voldemort out, but the ministry requires you to legally state whether the Stone is destroyed or not."

"You know," the man suddenly spoke out. Harry listened attentively. "Ever since Penerelle's death ten years ago, it has been hard on me. We have been prolonging our life through the usage of Elixir of Life. And theoretically, I should have died when we stopped drinking the Elixir, just like her. Yet; I am now speaking in front of you and nowhere older than twelve years ago."

"May I ask why?" Harry butted in.

"It's something I want to know about as well." The man smiled sadly. "The only thing I could come out is that I had some unfinished business, but it is not here."

Harry didn't reply and sipped his tasteless tea until the cup was drained. He watched as the man—who seemed not older than his forties but in actual truth was already on his 676 years old—lost in his own thought. Respecting the elder's silence, Harry started to focus on the room once again.

It was filled with ridiculous amount of book—if the ceiling could be magically enhanced to hold books, Harry was sure there would be no space spared from being a book shelves. There were books of every kind; small, thick, big, thin, old and new. The only furniture in the living room was a desk and a chair. They didn't even match each other; the chair was wooden and fragile looking while the desk looked like the best of mahogany woods.

On the desk, parchments were scattered with a lone quill on top of them. It all looked impersonal, except a picture on the side, of a lady with two boys smiling at the camera.

"I never know you had children." Harry smiled.

"Oh?" The man looked back at Harry and saw the picture as well. "Oh, yes. I do. It's been a long time since then that sometimes I don't remember much about them anymore."

Harry Potter was surprised. It must be a very long time, for he believes that nobody would forget their children, even when given enough time. Children and spouses would be parts of a person, forever.

"Don't you miss them?"

"I did. I still do. But not as much as the initial feeling I got when I found myself awake in this world—and oh, how that feeling of missing someone has fuelled me into researching many sciences, muggles physics and eventually magical runes and arithmancy just to find a way back home, to them. That was the reason Philosopher's Stone was created."

The man coughed a bit, before continuing. "Mr. Potter, you would be surprised that the Philosopher's Stone that claimed my fame was actually the product of worst sin imaginable."

The tone the old man was telling him with made Harry shivered.

"Do you know what the main ingredient of Philosopher's Stone is?"

Harry shook his head.

The man smiled. "I wish you never know what it is constitute from. It is better for your conscience that way."

The meeting left Harry with mixed feeling, but most importantly, suspense. What was Nicolas Flamel was insinuating to? Something that constitutes the Stone, something that is the worst sin possible, and something that would hurt Harry's own conscience. Mr. Flamel has told him that it was better Harry didn't know. He has warned Harry after that, and then promising the auror that he would come out with a detailed report in a week time.

It was too late, it seemed. Harry's interest was already piqued and flared. It felt like the nostalgic feeling of trying to unveiled the truth—even the truth always ended up with him facing the Dark Lord when he was only eleven, or facing a Basilisk when he was only a meagre twelve years old.

It was with the same spirit Harry came back to the door—knocking politely again, just on time for their agreed meeting time.

But nobody answered his knock; Harry became worried after ten minutes of silence. He finally used his magic and silently casted alomohora on the door, but he was welcomed with failure. Of course, Harry mussed to himself, how could he ever underestimate the lock charm on the door of the oldest wizard alive?

So he returned to the auror ways—with force. He opened it easily with a kick, something that was actually easier than using magic—Harry learned throughout his experience that wizards were so dependent on their magic that most of them forgot that muggles have been adapting successfully to the world without magic. In other words, magic was not always the only way.

What he saw horrified him.

The room was in a chaos; everything was in disarrays, and books were not books anymore: papers were flying around the room, and in the middle of the room (where the desk was perched a week before) was a huge rune circle surrounded by purple glow. And in the middle of everything, was Nicolas Flamel.

The old man didn't look like a human anymore—half of his face was disintegrated into muscle tissues and bones; his teeth were shown halfway, and he clearly has lost his lower limbs. The creature was only identifiable by the colour of remaining hair (blond) and the other half of his facial structure which thankfully, still recognizable.

"Mr. Flamel!" Harry shouted and went into the room, but the creature tried to swat him away. Harry moved aside, just to find that he unwittingly entered the circle of rune.

"Po….Teerrr…" The creature hissed, before everything was engulf in an exploding light.

The last thing Harry saw was the blinding light. The next thing he saw was an invisible—but Harry knew he was there, grinning at him with its wide rows of teeth—creature and a door.

"Welcome." It said. "What do you want, and what are you prepared to pay?"

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