Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor FMA and I'm certainly not getting any money for this.

Complete author's note and explanations to (numbers) are to be found at the end of the chapter.

Warnings to all of you who haven't read the manga/the books: spoilers

Warnings to all of you who like to ship the chars into non-canon-pairings: I love to read those but right now I want to concentrate on staying as much ic as possible – thus canon pairings (towards the end of the fanfic)

"Abc!" - spoken words

Abc! - thoughts

Chapter 1: Dogweed and Deathcap (words: 9798)

A sigh could be heard in the middle of the mountains as Edward Elric finally reached the top of the hill and got a clear few of the land that lay before him. The sun shone brightly over the small fields of grass that swayed in the light afternoon breeze of mid June(1), enclosed by even higher peaks than the one on whose plateau he currently stood. A village could be seen a good distance away and, although the size and state of it could not be determined yet, the sight raised Ed's spirits a lot.

Am I at the right place?

It was honestly hard to believe this was the place he had come to after following yet another lead to the Philosopher's Stone. In his mind the stone was associated with death, despair and greed for power and immortality.

And yet this place seems to be the very manifestation of peacefulness...

He frowned slightly, then shook his head to clear it of any doubts and continued on his path uphill towards where the outlines of the assembly of cottages could be seen.

It had been a long time since he could last do this. Just wander the landscape on his quest for knowledge and redemption without any deadly threats waiting for him around the next corner. The homunculi and their Father had only been defeated few months ago, at the beginning of spring, and the military had had to face the resulting changes.

It was a speck on the perfectness that they hadn't been able to return to their original bodies(2) in the process, but for now they had gained additional time as they had found a way to renew Al's blood seal, strengthening the connection to the never changing armour. It eased a lot of pressure off of both their shoulders. Whilst they tried to come up with a solution, the nightly conversations about how to approach the task had brought back memories of when they were still staying in their own home in Resembool, discussing alchemical theories back and forth until early morning hours all those years ago.

Al hadn't even minded that he was not able to sleep, because for once, he was grateful for it. The destruction that the Promised Day had brought over Central was severe, and all of them had to do as much as they could to repair the damages. While the military was busy restructuring, bringing the old brass to justice and convincing the public of what really happened, the Elric brothers became even more famous. Helping people without asking for anything in return left quite a big impression, especially in the times of need when most either looked after themselves and their own problems and others only how to turn the need of those to their own advantage. Ed and Al were delighted by every single smile, every single word of gratitude from the inhabitants of destroyed buildings and shopkeepers. The eyes that shone with new hope and determination to start anew lifted their spirits and raised their motivation to continue and completely restore the capital to its former beauty.

...Our journey couldn't end there though. And Al's renewed seal is just a temporary solution to the main problem as well. I do miss him a lot, but following two separate leads has got a higher chance of success...

He wouldn't have been able to cross the great desert anyway, as his brother had oh so helpfully pointed out. It was a good thing, sometimes, that an armour could not express real facial expressions. The look of apology at these words or the sadness in Al's real eyes at his departure would have been enough to make Ed demand Winry for a pair of super-heat-resistant-automail without a care whether they had not been invented yet or not. With only Al's voice, though, he managed to let his little brother go. Barely.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Edward raised his eyes from the path to assess any changes in scenery. Not that he expected much. For days he had been travelling these mountains and despite small differences, his surroundings had consisted of a monotone change of peaks, hills, small fields of grass and the barely visible path he had taken at the beginning. He imagined this would be what the north of Amestris looked like in early summer as well. Even now the air was a little crisp at night and had that unmatched freshness when breathing as well as the clearness that made it possible to spot a bird circling the skies for its to-be-pray on the ground from multiple kilometres away. He had gotten used to it by now, though. Awakening in his sleeping bag in the mornings, he could enjoy how the sun would rise, how it would bath the snow covered mountain tops in a soft, golden glow and chase away the fog that had collected in lower valleys, leaving behind small droplets of dew that twinkled like millions of clear, yet tiny diamonds.

Through it all, though, he had never doubted to be on the right way, as the nearer he had gotten to this place, the less effort it took of him to use alchemy whenever he needed to get to a higher level of the mountain. It felt a little like the Promised Day all over again - just without the impeding doom and the fear to fail attached to the feelings.

A Philosopher's Stone alone isn't able to do that, though. There's just too much loose energy around here. Energy that could be used as payment for Al's body!

He frowned slightly, grabbed his trunk tighter and widened his steps a little in anticipation of all the discoveries he might stumble across in this land near nowhere.

The first thing that caught his attention was an old, quite demolished, building some distance away from the main village that seemed to have been uninhabited for a long time. On second thought, it was entirely questionable if anyone had ever lived in there at all. There was no path leading to it, no apparent entrance either, no chimney and no postbox, all of the windows were barricaded with so many wooden planks that it was doubtful the sun ever reached inside. Ed narrowed his eyes a little to double check of he had just missed something, but he still couldn't make out any sign of living or other possible purposes for its existence.

Strange...

From what he could see when he averted his eyes again, the rest of the village itself seemed ordinary enough: Along the main street were quite a few neat cottages in two lines on either side, a pub and a surprising number of shops with extremely imaginative names. The roofs had the steep slope that was usual for settlements this far up the mountains, so that the snow would easily slide down to the ground. Just. An. Ordinary. Village. Called Hogsmeade, apparently, if the worn-out sign at its entrance was anything to go by.

I just hope nobody lied to me about this being near the place associated with the Stone! They wouldn't know what hit them once I hunt them down, if they made me spend all this time coming up here for nothing!

Granted, it was doubtful that he would go back to the friendly old couple four days worth travelling ago, but the thought released a little of his pent up frustration over still - after five years of searching! - not having Al back in his real body.

Ed spotted a group of three persons happily chatting away in the afternoon sun approximately 150 meters down the road and straightened up a little. Locals were the most likely to have heard about myths, legends or rumours concerning the stone or anything else that was unusual. Usually, he would go to the pub for information but this was out of question this time. He had taken Amestrian money with him when he left, but when passing so many different countries in such a short amount of time he forgot to change it in the middle (Creating money by using alchemy might be forbidden, but no one had ever written something about train tickets... right? Sometimes it was a blessing that Al wasn't with him to constantly remind him of following morals.) and was now too far away for any changer to recognize his currency and accept it as 'not fake'. And he didn't even know what the local money looked like anyway. No bartender liked to have customers lurking around their establishment that were actually broke and no villager inside the pub would let their guard down and pour out valuable information if you didn't invite them to a free cup or two of a local alcohol brand. (Then again, Al's morals may have thus saved him from that fate.)

With no other options left to go, he 'decided' that a little small talk with those three would be the best way to handle things. Boots crunched across the earthen street, occasionally kicking a loose stone in front of him. Eyes travelled the surrounding buildings decidedly unsuspicious, taking in their age, the state of their sharp sloped roofs and the few 'early' blossoms that brought colour to the front gardens. He had rarely ever seen daffodils blossoming in mid June. Not entirely faking to admire the village's beauty, his actual focus lay on taking in and judging the locals out of the corner of his eyes, though.

It seemed to be a couple, somewhere in their thirties, standing with their backs turned to him, facing and talking to an elderly man with grey hair and a beard decorating a round face seeming to all the world just like neighbours enjoying the weather and chitchatting about the latest gossip. Then again: Maybe not. Just like the two who had shown him on this way these three were wearing long-sleeved clothings that reached from their shoulders to their feet and would have surely gained the label of 'dress' if it hadn't been for the lack of frills, eye-catching colours and printings. With matching hats even. He was far away from home, but he still doubted that men in these regions would actually wear dresses. Whilst one option was that it was just to suit the rough weather up here, the mentioned couple downhill had also worn those in the heat of the city, and whenever the Stone was concerned, the possibility of all of them belonging to some kind of cult reaching for world-domination or immortality wasn't far away.

Not again...

Edward couldn't go on remembering about Lior or the Homunculi as something in the house next to the old man crashed loudly, followed by a myriad of panicked curses from within and even more crashing. Just as Edward reached the scene the first objects flew through the bursting shop windows and onto the street. He crouched down slightly to pick up a plant with yellow blossoms that had been thrown out with his left hand, pot completely smashed by the hard impact on the ground, and dodged another one that came his way just as he was about to get up again.

"Please not... Jimmy!" The old man with the grey hair and the round face quickly collected himself from his state of shock and used three long steps to reach the front door. He then quickly proceeded to open it just to be pushed back by a flock of something small, blue, human shaped and winged (3) that left the house and proceeded to attack not only the door and its opener, but the flowerbed and bystanders as well. Cursing under the high-pitched cackles of the troublemakers he pushed onward inside, probably to either scold or rescue 'Jimmy'.

Neadless to say, Ed was shocked. Wide eyed and motionless, he could only watch the craziness unfold. Some of... them had picked up the earth from the crashed flower pots and smeared it like mud all over the shop sign. What had said "Dogweed and Deathcap" in nice golden letters on a fitting green ground before, was now reduced to "weed and Death" and was sure to not attract as many customers any time soon. Another group had made it their task to annoy the younger couple. They tore not only on their clothings, but on their hairs as well. With a small jolt of disgust Ed watched as one particular annoying... creature... tried to stick its arm inside the man's nose. He reacted by taking out a short, dark, wooden, scarcely decorated stick, snatched the creature from his face with a yelp and shot a barely visible light at it. When the creature's wings slowed their working speed considerably, it fell to the ground where it continued with its annoying high pitched shrieks of anger.

Ed only managed to affirm with a quick glimpse towards the woman that she was doing the same, strange stick-trick, before he became a target as well. In an instant, two had grabbed his coat near the shoulders in an attempt to lift him into the air, but failed even when two more joined pulling on his ears. Their tiny eyebrows knitted together in confusion when their plan didn't work the way they had imagined to. The smirk that appeared on Ed's face when he realised yet another advantage of automail – lightest winter-safe version or not – disappeared just as quickly when he felt a rather painful, sharp tug on his ponytail. His head forcibly jerked up at one insistent pull, before he put his trunk down and tried to reach for the annoying creature. He needed quite a few tries combined with a furious swinging of his head from one side to another, in the feeble attempt to knock it and the ones on his ears off – which they seemed to enjoy as some kind of free-of-charge rodeo-ride – to pluck it out of his hair. Mission accomplished, he held it in the unrelenting grip of his right hand in front of his face. Finally, he could get a closer look and realized slightly pleased that his first impression hadn't been too far off.

In his hand was a twenty centimeter small creature that had the general appearance of a micro-human, except for the pointed face and a pair of furiously flapping wings. The unusual electric blue of the skin reminded him a bit of the cackling light of energy whenever he used alchemy. Speaking of which.

I had thought that the Gate had hammered all the knowledge of the world inside my head during our encounter. Seems like this species and the language spoken by them had not been included in the package. Then again... maybe it's better this way. He grimaced a bit. Judging from the high pitching of the screeches, the angry scowl on the face and the insistent swinging and pounding of tiny fists on his gloved metal fingers, the general message still came across clearly, even if probably not as colourful and imaginative as intended.

Ending his examination he came to the conclusion that, no, he still had no idea what was in front of him.

Is this what fairies look like? They are small enough and can fly but aren't they actually supposed to be non-existent, nice and helpful? He couldn't quite remember. It had been some time since his mother had last read fairytales to him and his brother.

The present examples were pretty much very real and neither nice nor helpful. At all. Decision made, he shrugged his coat off, ignored the newly summoned assault of angry screeches when he released the annoyance from his right hand, clapped and mutated the fabric to a nice, red bag with a closable opening. One after another, the fairies from his clothing and his general near vicinity found their way inside. Once clear of direct assault he turned around slightly and plucked a couple more out of the air that seemed to be kicking and punching angrily at something invisible. He watched in astonishment as one flew full speed away from the shop just to be stopped dead in its tracks right where the others fought heroically against their invisible enemy.

A wall? Frowning a little, Ed raised an arm to check his hypothesis and was met with nothing but normal air. His hand passed right through. Ever the scientist though, his interest had been picked. He grabbed yet another fairy and curiously realised that now, he could not extend his arm any further than thirty centimeters where he seemed to squish his poor, chosen guineapig mid-air.

What the...

"It's not the first time the pixies broke out," a smooth and rather deep voice offered in a vain attempt to be helpful. Ed turned towards the shop again to see that the couple from earlier had immobilized all the other fairies' wings and were smiling warmly at him. Seeing that he still had a somewhat confused expression on his face, the woman continued her husbands explanation a little more elaborately.

"It's no problem to keep track of one Cornish Pixie alone but when all of them manage to get away from poor Jimmy, their mischief knows no ends. Neither Thomas nor the other shop owners wanted to risk them wrecking havoc in the whole village again after the first time, so they installed a ward specifically made to keep them in the nearer vicinity of "Dogweed and Deathcap". It works magnificently, don't you think?"

It made sense in a way to keep potentially dangerous stuff away from your neighbours. It made also sense to create … something … to ensure this in case the 'danger' escaped. The rest however... Dangerous pixies... wards... Are those guys for real?

Ed snapped out of his thoughts when he realised that someone still expected an answer from him. Friendly idiots get answers more easily than demanding and threatening idiots... He thus schooled his face into a slightly curious expression with a small smile on it to mask his confusion, and inclined his head to where the barrier would be if it had been visible.

"Well I guess none of them got away, so it probably does. Do you know how it works exactly?"

Dumbfounded faces was not the reaction he had planned to get. The couple looked at each other, then back at him, then at each other once more. After what seemed like eternity, the man finally opened his mouth. "I guess we never bothered to ask old Thomas which spell he used. We only ever cared that it worked." He smiled apologetically.

... A spell... ? Because there was nothing making sense anymore, Ed decided to nod his head in false understanding and waited for his brain to manage to catch up with the oddities.

It never got the chance.

"There you are!" The sound of a voice got carried to their ears through the still open doorway followed by advancing steps. Soon, the old man from earlier stood in front of them, clothes a little ruffled but otherwise fine and wearing a relieved smile – though it was hard to say with the beard. He had discarded his hat somewhere inside and he, too, was holding a light wooden stick in his right hand.

"Good! The ward still holds up, I had been worried for a moment. Thanks for your help, Lucy, Henry, I really appreciate it." After nodding to the addressed person respectively, he raised his stick and swung it in a smooth, fluid motion, pointing in the general area of where the pixies whose wings had been immobilized were still trying to break out of the barrier. In an instant, they were floating in the air and, by another flick of the stick, towards the building. He had apparently made a vague estimation about how many should have been flying past him and how many actually were, because his formerly relieved smiled morphed into one of worry.

"Strange. I was sure more of them had gotten out. Just where...?"

There was no need to finish his sentence as Edward chose this moment to wordlessly hold his arm up and shake his bag just a little bit, causing the poor creatures inside to throw yet another fit of angry screeches.

The surprise in the man's eyes told Ed that he was probably realising his presence for the very first time. He felt his gaze travel up and down his form, pausing at his long hair, his gloves and the trunk beside him for a short moment, before it rested on his face once again.

Smiling broadly, he said: "Well, seems like they have been expertly taken care of already. Thank you, young man. Your help is appreciated a lot. Could I ask you for one last favour? To bring them inside? I fear they might escape again if the bag changed hands." He didn't, however, wait for a reply and instead just turned around to go back inside, pixies obediently floating right behind him.

Edward was shaken. Not even a Philosopher's Stone possessed the power to let things float. Or immobilize wings for the matter. But there were no circles to be seen anywhere anyways, as far as he could tell. So then: How do they do it?

He nearly fell face first to the ground when he tried to follow the man on autopilot and barely managed to regain his balance. A glance to his combat boots confirmed that even fairies that weren't able to fly still loved to prank people. Binding shoelaces together might not be very imaginative, Ed mused, but it still works, apparently. He watched in concealed amazement as his laces untied and retied themselves properly. The woman, Lucy, was barely hiding an amused smirk and waved his nearly forgotten trunk inside the shop before following the two men.

"It wouldn't do to have it standing out there all alone when we are all inside. Who knows, maybe one of the owls would think it's a package and try to deliver it without knowing the destination," she threw jokingly over her shoulder in what could have only been a partial read of his mind.

Ed couldn't help but wonder what part of her last sentence was meant to be funny: That owls do deliveries? Or that they might mix them up accidentally? Or that they might actually not know the destination? En lieu for his sanity he hoped the answer would be 'All of it.', smiled politely and started walking.

The first thing Edward noticed upon entering was that the shop seemed to be a lot bigger inside to what he would have guessed from the outside. In fact, he was positive that it was bigger than what should be possible. At least if the adjoining shops were indeed separate buildings with separating walls and narrow alleys in-between.

The second thing he noticed was that the interior didn't look much different compared to the outside. Thanks to the pixies, there was earth and plants scattered everywhere, sometimes a leaf or a blossom was torn off. Powders or dried plant-parts had been thrown out of their bowls and boxes and mixed in on the floor with the rest. He spotted a group of mushrooms standing upside down on their heads a little further off to his left side. The reason Thomas had 'discarded' his hat also became obvious when he threw a quick glance towards the small chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

The third thing he noticed was that Truth had not only missed to stuff information on 'Cornish Pixies' into his head. All around him he could see plants, fungi and algae that he had no knowledge of. Unless the pixies had found radiant red and yellow colourpots somewhere, he was sure that plants with blood red leaves and yellow thorns were not to be considered usual. And were those blue roots that stuck out from one of the broken pots?

The craziness just keeps piling up and up... He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts. ...Just like the possibilities!

They crossed the sales room and entered what appeared to be a normal living area gone through war. A boy of maybe six or seven years, wearing for once normal clothing, sat on a worn down couch at the left side of the room. He raised his head slightly when Ed and the others entered, revealing an equally round face with speckles and teary eyes. His hands clutched at the sides of his head over both of his ears framing an untamed flock of brown and rather short hair. At one look from his grandfather, however, he straightened his posture, swallowed down a large gulp and swiped at his eyes. Men don't cry, huh? Ed smiled at the attempt to look brave. The boy bowed shortly to them, walked stiffly across the room to the door on the right side and scurried through it in an instant.

The group ignored the door heading to the right and went straight ahead to where a door led them outside to a small garden instead. There were two long greenhouses, one to the left, the other to the right, both packed with infinite amounts of 'green' and a couple of bushes at the far end. The centre of the area held no plants whatsoever, though. Set on poles, four rather big cages were placed there, two of them already filled with the electric blue, mischievous, loudly complaining pixies. They came to a halt in front of the third, and with yet another flick of the stick the door of the cages opened and the captives floated in one by one. When everyone was securely inside, the doors clicked shut and Lucy and Henry used their sticks to release the formerly immobilized wings back into freedom. Soon afterwards, Ed's makeshift bag had been emptied into the fourth and last of the cages. By now, all inhabitants stood at or flew near the cagebars swinging their fists towards them and causing headaches to form.

"How on earth can you live with those things around?" Edward couldn't help but ask. His face a pained grimace and his hands clamping down over his ears he regarded Thomas incredulously.

"Ah, well, you see...," the man rubbed the backside of his head in clear embarrassment, "my late wife was a big fan of Gilderoy Lockhart. Maybe you have heard of him? Really, no? Well, let's say he was quite famous, even a celebrity. One and a half year ago he was teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts and he used these little troublemakers to teach his second year students. He did not need them after the lesson was finished, so he came to Hogsmeade, because it's the nearest village, and offered them to the residents free of charge. My good Martha was so delighted when she got them. 'They are Mr. Lockharts pixies! They were with him! Oh what would I have given to be assisting in one of his lessons!' is what she used to say."

The mimics of his wife's voice were a little exaggerated and clearly showed his annoyance with the matter. The words 'Why couldn't she be fine with assisting me on a normal shop day when I even am her husband?' didn't need to be said. Thomas, Lucy and Henry wore amused, yet slightly sad expressions that told stories of times long past that they held in dear memory.

So, Edward didn't know how to behave in such situations. Situations like being attacked by an unknown species, encountering techniques that defied all laws known to him and emotionally loaded conversations where he didn't know enough to offer real comfort. Not that he was good at giving comfort even when he knew the complete background. He thus decided to go for the first thing that came to his mind: Keep the conversation rolling. If someone continues to talk, they get their minds off things by moving on to a different path of the story. The wooden sticks could always come later.

"So that explains how you got them. But it doesn't make sense to keep them when they repeatedly crash your shop, living area and gardens."

"Yes, that's how we got them," Thomas paused briefly to recollect himself. "My dear wife passed away half a year later, slipped in the snow and hit her head on a stone beneath it, to never find out that her beloved Mr. Lockhart was nothing but a fraud. She might not be here anymore, but the pixies are; and as they were very dear to her and she was very dear to me I feel responsible for the little things. I can't just let them go. The finity of her death would be all too clear then." He looked fondly at the cages.

"Thus I raised up wards that go around this garden and the house to keep them here. The destruction is usually avoided too, so they aren't really necessary. Only in the few months of summer, when there is no snow, does my grandson, Jim, come for a visit. To visit his old grandfather, get a bit of fresh mountain air and, ever since last year, to check after his beloved grandma's pixies as well. He loves them as much as I do; even when they don't return the favour."

Edward blinked. "Is there a difference between the ways both of you treat the pixies? You said they only ever escaped when he is here so maybe if you teach him the method..."

"That's not possible, unfortunately. He is still far away from being eleven years old and only then will he get a proper wand. We don't have any spare ones and Ollivander wouldn't sell one to a child of his age. But he loves feeding them too much."

Again, Edward was startled. When mentioning the wand (As in magic?) Thomas had momentarily risen his right hand to indicate the wooden stick he was still holding. Thus, apparently, the local residents bought wooden sticks, called wands, from someone, called Ollivander, after they reached a certain age, eleven, and then knew how to defy gravity – what they would presumedly call magic. So a Philosopher's Stone could amplify alchemy and bypass its laws, he knew that much. But if these people had found a way to bypass gravity and levitate without using the Stone, then maybe they had other means at their disposal that could be used to get back to Al's body.

Good thing I am older than eleven years, huh? Now, how to get more information without being too pushy?

He recapped the situation. He wasn't sure if he could restore the living room or the shop. He didn't have enough knowledge about the plants that were sold or the pixies, so it was likely that he would encounter even more unknown variables when transmuting. And you needed all of the variables in an alchemical equation if you didn't want to face an explosive rebound. Another explosion after the pixie-attack is sure to be anything but appreciated.

He could work with the cage-situation, he decided, but the pixies were bothersome.

"Uhm, Mr...?"

"Oh! I am so sorry. My name is Thomas Lane, owner of the 'Dogweed and Deathcap' that you had the unfortunate displeasure of seeing in its worst state ever. A pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Edward Elric and I'm a traveller. Pleased to meet you too." He took the offered hand and shook it, smiling for a moment before turning a calculating gaze towards the cages. "Mr. Lane, do you think it would be possible to remove the pixies out of their cages for a moment? I've got an idea for your problem but they are somewhat of in the way. Can you manage?"

The man frowned but gave a short nod. A flick of wand later, the cages were empty. Edward did not look around to see where the pixies had landed – the loud noise now coming from somewhere behind him, a little to his right – and stepped forward. A clap of hands, a drop to the ground and the comfortable feeling of energy rushing through his body filled his senses to the point he completely missed the surprised gasps from behind him. Again, he remarked how few effort it cost him to transmute in this area and used it to his full advantage. When the electric cackling diminished and the moving elements slowed down to reach their intended design, he stepped back to check the finished product.

He had removed the poles and switched them to a wide pedestal with a few steps going up on all of the four sides from where the ground had sunk a little in the process. In its middle, he had combined all of the poles' and the former cages' materials into a single one with a glass ceiling that was as sloped as the ones of the cottages. The bars were gracefully decorated with shapes of flower blossoms wherever they touched so they would blend in with the rest of the garden. He had made sure to not only use sand for the glass, but also certain coloured particles of the ground to darken it as a protecting shield against the mountain sun's rays. Two meters in width and three meters in height should be enough for all the pixies too. To make sure they didn't get bored, he had even added some swings that dropped from the ceiling, a series of rings they could fly through, softer ground for sleeping places and a pond.

All in all he was rather pleased with himself. The blossoms especially had been a big treat when all his 'instincts' screamed to insert gargoyles, dragons and spikes. Yep, pleased indeed.

"That should do the trick. You can put them back inside now if you want. As for little Jimmy, there is this lid here." He turned his head a moment to check if Mr. Lane was listening (he was, though rather wide-eyed), then turned back and pointed to a portion of the cage that was around one meter from the ground. "Actually, there are four of them, one on each side. When you open it," he demonstrated, "you can place food on this part here, it works a little like a tray. See, at this moment everything is closed off so no pixie can come out. Then you close the first lid like this and pull the tray out of the cage like this, " he demonstrated again, "which will result in the food falling to this table-like structure here. Well it doesn't look like a table but it still works the same." He faced them.

"This was … surprising." Henry was the first to find his voice.

Thomas was the next. "Indeed. A Transfiguration of this complexity and at such a tender age. Without a wand or incantation even! You must have an utmost control of your magic to be able to pull that off, lad." Thomas flicked his wrist again and watched on in astonishment as the pixies started to search through their new home.

"'Transfiguration'? Is that the common term to use in this region? It's a strange word to choose but I guess it describes the same process..." To himself he thought: So I was right about the 'magic'-part.

"Well, what would you call it, Mr. Elric?" This time it was a slightly confused Lucy who had spoken.

"Transmutation. At least, that's what everyone calls it at home."

"Thomas is right, what you did was really amazing. Then again, I don't think I have ever heard of that term. You mentioned to be a traveller earlier. Just how far from home are you actually?"

"Several weeks worth travelling. I don't mind how far away I am that much. I try to get to know different parts of the world, search for local legends and see how much truth I can find in them. Wherever the stories take me, I'll go."

"Oh, this sounds like you've got a lot of stories to tell." Lucy's eyes were beaming with curiosity one moment, then she deflated a little. Frowning, she looked at his trunk, then back at him. "I'd really like to hear more about them, but, say, are you being expected somewhere? Surely you came to Hogsmeade to visit someone - wouldn't they be worried by now?"

Ed was a little surprised at the woman's hindsight and attentiveness towards his affairs and also to the shared curiosity of the three residents. They were apparently as eager to hear about his skills as he was to hear about theirs. What had looked to end in nothing more than a little smalltalk when he first approached them could just be about to turn into an information-goldmine.

"I didn't come to visit anyone. As I said, I just follow the stories. At this time of the year, I usually camp outside to save the little money that is at my disposal. I have some questions of my own so I wouldn't mind sharing stories with you at all." He smiled genuinely pleased before deciding to finally address the invisible, big, pink elephant in the middle of the room. "I guess we should first do something about the state of Mr. Lane's cottage though."

As soon as his name was said, the man promptly swirled around, obviously awoken from his own thoughts. "That's right. I nearly forgot! Lucy, Henry would you mind...?"

"It's alright, Thomas, it's quite a bit of work after all. Come on, dear, we'll see what we can do inside." That said, the couple took out their wands respectively and returned inside.

The old man looked fondly at their retreating backs. "Such nice people, the Aarons. I already knew them when they were still young and attending Hogwarts. Never failed to visit me on the Hogsmeade weekends too, even when the professors had given them high workloads. And then, when Martha died..." He paused shortly, then suddenly snapped out of his reverie. "Right! We have a task to attend to."

With a couple of flicks of his wand he repaired the glass planes of the green houses where the pixies had thrown rocks at it, smoothed the ground and evaluated the status of his bushes and their berries at the rear. Edward's first action was to swiftly transmute the bag he was still holding back into his trademark coat and put it on again. They had talked quite a bit and by now the sun was rapidly setting behind the mountains, leaving the area in a slightly chilling breeze. Not wanting to be useless with the repairs, he picked the shutters of the windows, that had been pulled from their hinges, off the ground and reinserted them at their correct places at the cottage. With the garden at its presumedly former state Ed, picked up his trunk and both men continued inside to see what else needed to be done.

A good thirty minutes later, when everything seemed to be back to normal within the Lane cottage, the four could be found sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. Mr. Lane had offered them to stay over for dinner "to show his gratitude for the help in minimizing pixie-damage and repairing the same."

"I haven't had a real kitchen-made meal in days," announced a visible delighted Edward. "And you are even making stew! Stew's my absolute favourite." He started to dig in as soon as the bowl was set in front of him. "It's quite good too!"

"In days? That doesn't sound very healthy. Where have you been?" The worry in Mrs. Aarons voice was audible.

"Eh? Getting up here of course. It's not like there are any inns on the way or something like that. I mean... it's not like there even is a proper path for that matter!"

"You want to tell us that you actually climbed all the way to Hogsmeade? I've never heard of that before! I thought it wasn't even possible. Without Floo Powder, a broom, Apparition or using a train. It would positively take weeks, if not longer..."

Edward didn't think he really wanted to know how powders and cleaning utensils could help one to climb a mountain and settled for the next options.

"I didn't even know there was a train I could have used. And getting up here isn't that hard when one can transmute the landscape. I just elevated myself on higher levels or lower levels all the time and I've always been in a good physical shape, so it was no big deal. I rather enjoyed it, really. Now, the other word I didn't understand. What does Apparition mean?"

"You are astounding me more and more, young man!" It was Mr. Lane's wide-eyed turn to indulge in the conversation. "Have you really never heard of that word?"

"No. Maybe it's like transmutation and Transfiguration and I just know it by another term." Ed tried to find out its meaning by searching for the origin of the word in other languages but could only come up with 'appear'. But you usually appeared at one place when you arrived, so this was not helpful at all.

"That could be it. A synonym then. What about teleportation? Surely you must have heard of that one?"

"Teleportation? Disappearing at one place and reappearing at the other?" (The origin of the word made a lot more sense now.) "As in disassembling the body, sending the particles through space and reassembling them somewhere else?" This didn't sound good. Or maybe it did. He was looking for a safe way to transmute his brother after all and what Mr. Lane had just proposed sounded a huuuge lot like Human Transmutation. Or Human Transfiguration.

He received a collective nod as an answer. "Yes, dear, that's what we are talking about. You could have used that to come up here."

"No. No, I couldn't have. We don't practice our powers on humans at home. Or animals for that matter. It's... unnatural I guess. Thus I don't know how to do it. Could you demonstrate?"

The others blinked a little owlishly at him, then nodded and suddenly three loud cracks were heard. All of his companions had disappeared. A split second later, he heard another loud crack from behind him and two dull ones from the other side of the kitchen door. When it opened, it revealed Mrs. Aaron and Mr. Lane who walked in, smiling, and sat back down at the table to continue eating. Mr. Aaron then joined them from behind a very dumbfounded alchemist and picked up the conversation where it had been dropped off.

"I think it's quite unusual not to use magic on humans or animals, when it comes from our insides or when there are so many magical creatures, like the pixies. Magic is what we are so why wouldn't you use it on yourself, say, for example to heal?"

"Healing, huh. I'm not quite sure myself, to be honest." That was a lie. Anyone who really knew him would know the answer immediately. He had lost his brother's body and two of his limbs in his first attempted Human Transmutation. Then he had sacrificed all those poor souls from Envy's Philosopher's Stone to transmute himself and get out of Gluttony and if that wasn't enough, he had even used his own soul, or a part of it at least, to heal from Kimbley's attack in the Briggs mountains. Not. Doing. That. Ever. Again!

He could hardly explain this to his new acquaintances though. And hadn't they said the power comes from within them? So, combined with the earlier revelation of them only being able to learn it after becoming eleven, it seemed to be a natural ability. No stone then? They are no homunculi after all. But if not the Stone – what else?

"I have heard of a neighbouring country practising on the same basis as our methods with the exception that they have a better range and the ability and permission to heal superficial wounds. I do not know the details, though, so I can't give you a better answer. My brother is currently travelling there to study their art and learn how to use it, so I guess there might be a change in my homeland concerning this matter soon. Until then, I'll just have to do with the theory. Speaking of which. What exactly caused the loud cracking noises when you dis- and reappeared?"

Ed sincerely hoped they would explain for some time. Because of all the talking he had done his stew was getting colder by the minute, even though he attempted his best at finishing it before it resembled ice.

"I'm not sure... " said Henry. Frowning a little he turned towards his companions, silently asking for input. After ten seconds, his wife showed mercy.

"I believe it's got to do something with the travelling speed. That, if you go fast enough, you cause the air to crack. Somehow."

"But you didn't just travel, did you? You went through the wall, so you couldn't have possibly been transported as a whole on a direct way. I'm not even sure it would work this way if you were to deconstruct yourselves completely." Because that would just be creepy. "The theory on the air makes sense, though," Ed continued thoughtfully. "If you were to somehow press it into a really dense state and then released it, the particles that you set free would have an enormous speed. If they collided with others on their way I'm sure the process could emit such a sound."

"I... have no idea whatsoever what you might be talking about. Apart from Transfigurations we don't usually bother with theories on magic or their formulas, even at school. We just... do... things most of the time. There are very few actually taking the time to go deeper into the matter and even most of those give up in the middle because they can't make heads or tails out of things. 'It's magic,' we say. And 'It's magic,' is all we need to know."

Needless to say, Edward had never, ever, encountered someone who shared this old man's way of thinking. Except maybe Mr. and Mrs. Aaron.

For alchemy understanding was the very first step to each successful transmutation. Without it, nothing worked! And here this man was, claiming that they could do the most amazing things – transmutation, teleportation, levitation and maybe even 'getting-Al's-body-back-tation' – and didn't even know how they did it. That's... disconcerting. At best.

"I just realised," said Lucy and laid her spoon next to her empty bowl of stew, "didn't you say earlier that you walked here? I mean sure, you have great skills and such, but haven't you heard about Sirius Black? Walking around in these vicinities at daylight is dangerous enough with a wanted mass-murderer on the loose, but camping out at night? That's not only foolish, but downright suicidal!"

The other two wizards had flinched at her revelation, eyes growing wide with fear at the realization and now all three of them were staring at Edward in concern. They grew even more alarmed when the alchemist didn't show any signs of fear himself, no matter how much time they gave him to let it sink in. Finally, Ed decided to free them from their tense postures and offered them a weak smile.

"I must admit that I have no idea who you are talking about." He decidedly ignored the astounded gasps. "I'm not from around here after all. But I can assure you that I have encountered mass-murderers in my past and so far none of them have managed to take me down. Is he notorious for sneaking up on unsuspecting, innocent mountain travellers or why do you think he would go through the trouble of killing one?"

"No. No, he's not. I guess coming from a different country doesn't guarantee to know about him, but he is so infamous around here that we didn't take that into consideration. You are lucky though. He was captured just a few days ago and brought to Hogwarts to meet his last fate in the form of a Dementor's kiss. He did, however, manage to escape. Nobody knows how he pulled that off, but the Headmaster as well as the ministry officials figured that it's highly unlikely that he stayed in the nearer surroundings of the schoolgrounds.

"He is not known for attacking travellers, by the way. But then again you never know when it's about one of You-Know-Who's old accomplices. And he was in Azkaban for over a decade. He might be the first who ever managed to break out of there, but I highly doubt that much of his sanity is left after that. Dementors suck out too much positive energy whilst enforcing the negative ones for a guilty soul to not at least crumble."

Edward did-not-know-who, but for now it was sufficient that he had apparently been the leader of a group of mass murderers. The ministry might be the same as the military back home and Azkaban sounded like a badass name for some kind of prison Black broke out of. He did not know what a Dementor could be nor how they would achieve the mentioned things but from the description alone he figured it to be something he could not possibly want to meet. What bothered him, though, was that those people here were talking so freely about it, when he had never before heard anything even close. And he had been in this country or at least near it for a while.

Then again, maybe these pointy-hat-wizards have their own agenda.

But what he had heard was enough for now. It was time to get to know more that would bring him forth in his research for Al, and even though his companions were not able to provide him with sufficient information on the working of magic, they might still know some things about local legends. By now, the food was long eaten, their solemn faces were lowered and the lull in conversation stretched and stretched.

Time to change that!

"I was wondering, you know, if you might know about local myths. Oddities or such that are unique to this place. Stories that are incredible. It's what I set out to search for, after all." He had spoken as casually as possible, but the impact on the atmosphere was still instantaneous. The faces lit up at the prospect of a change in subject and the three wizards leaned forward in a conspirational manner. Before they could start, though, Ed had already taken out his notebook.

"You don't mind if I write these down, do you?" Al had 'trained' him to at least own a minimal level of politeness.

"No, not at all," Lucy smiled sweetly at him. "The most popular one would be the rumours about the Shrieking Shack. It's an abandoned building a little off from the main village and none of the villagers can recall that somebody ever lived there..." She trailed off.

Her husband picked up again: "However, there was a time around twenty years ago. During several years, we would hear noises from within. I've never heard anything like it. Not before and certainly not later. It sounded like somewhat animalistic, but also painful shrieks. We could hear crashes at night, as if wood was being smashed to pieces. Nobody ever found out what happened in there. It was semi-regular too. Usually once a month, but sometimes twice, at the beginning and the ending. No one was ever brave enough to approach the shack and the villagers maintained a save distance of at least 150 meters at daylight too – and they still do, even though it has long since become silent." He trailed off as well.

This time it was the old man who picked up. Edward silently suspected that this way of telling the tale by switching the narrator every few sentences has been practised for quite some time within the village. "Rumours say there was a monster living inside for only one day. Enraged by not getting free, it would search for a way out, trashing the furniture, searching for something to eat, just to find nothing. It would lay an egg from which a new monster would be born a month later, maybe eating its mother's corpse, maybe not. And the cycle would continue. Another rumour says that it was haunted by ghosts that came by in regular timegaps. Now ghosts in general are no unusual occurrence, of course, but if they indeed managed to produce such noises then they probably were to be feared. There were even more rumours, but my poor memory is failing me with the less interesting ones it seems."

"Has anyone ever been hurt during one of these nights?" Though he did not believe in ghost stories per se, these people in front of him sure as hell did. Best to go with it.

"No. Nobody ever got hurt. Such a lovely monster, isn't it? Wrecking havoc in its own house and leave the innocents alone. We didn't even need to bring sacrifices to appease it. I personally always thought it to be a nice, but poor, hurting fellow that could not get out..."

"You did?" As the question was asked by her incredulous husband, Ed was glad that he wasn't the only one being slightly bewildered by this statement. To top it of, she nodded excitedly.

"Okay...so, uh, any other stories? Oh yeah! I just remembered that I had been following a legend up here." He made a show of flipping in his notebook to emphasize the truth behind his half-lie and stopped not far from the formerly used page. "Someone at the foot of the mountains said there was a stone here not that long ago. They called it Sorcerer's Stone. I got interested in it because the myth resembles one from my homeland concerning the descriptions of the artefact, just that we call it Philosopher's Stone. After our talk earlier, I was wondering if it could be the same as with transmutation and Transfiguration: that both describe the same and it's just different wording. Do you know about it?"

"Oh yes, of course we do. It's a legendary stone created by Nicolas Flamel that's said to turn lead into gold and that a skilled alchemist or wizard could produce a life-prolonging potion from it. To be honest, although the stone's abilities are pretty impressive, none of us really knew anything specific about it until around two years ago."

Edward listened intently. Yes, this sounded like a Philosopher's Stone, alright. Every skilled alchemist could turn lead into gold but the theme of immortality or the wish to get as close to it as possible was definitely there. As well as, surprisingly, the mention of the term alchemist. This implied the chance that he might succeed on his quest even if he were to fail learning magic. Or even better, that he may not even need to try and save valuable time.

I might just come back afterwards anyway to learn how to levitate stuff after Al's alright, though. Rub it right under General Mustangs nose and swipe off that infuriating smirk.

Not knowing about the youth's thoughts, Thomas continued with his tale: "During that time, Professor Dumbledore kept the stone at the school, Hogwarts, because he thought to be able to provide the perfect protection for it. But unknown to him, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had possessed one of his former professors and lured him away with a deception to secretly steal it. He was stopped, however, by none other than Harry Potter."

This seemed to amuse the Aarons a great deal. "Imagine what face he must have made! First his never-failing-killing-curse rebounded off of an infant the age of a baby, then the same infant manages to defeat him again during its very first year at school!" At this point, Lucy hardly managed to keep her fit of giggles under check anymore.

"Must have been a very impressive sight indeed," chuckled Thomas, "If you want to get any additional information, I suggest that you go and visit Hogwarts tomorrow. It's just a little ways downhill from here after all, and even though the students and most of the teachers have already left the school, the Headmaster may still be there. As for today, I would feel highly uncomfortable if you were to camp outside. It's already pretty late. Thus, I ask if you would mind spending the night under this roof. Arranging things will be no trouble at all and whilst Jimmy is using my daughter's former room, the couch has proven to be very comfortable in the past."

That was a statement that Edward could affirm half an hour later, when Lucy and Henry Aaron had left for their own house and Thomas Lane had gone upstairs to his room. He stole one glance outside to see the formerly energetic Cornish Pixies sleeping away peacefully under the moonlight and lay down as well.

Thinking back, the day had been more informative than he could have imagined.

Magic, huh? Who would've thought? And if the stone has to be protected by high security, it's unlikely that they use it in everyday life. He paused a moment, then facepalmed. Damn! I forgot to check what their wands are made off. These can't be normal wooden sticks if children can't get them before the age of eleven.

He continued on and on with his thoughts, mostly stepping on the same spot for extended periods of time.

He also wondered how far Alphonse might have gotten in his research on Xingese alkahestry. And then he wondered just how many stray kittens there were in Xing. And how many of those would fit inside Al's armour.

Because, without a doubt, all of them would find a place in that big heart of his brother...

Author's note:

I'd like to thank every single one of you for reading!

I had never intended for this chapter to become this long but the words just kept piling up and up and up. And now it's twice as long. I wouldn't mind if it was just this chapter, but my planning currently includes 21 chapters total and I might just add another 1 or 2 in-between. So I'm kinda scared now. ._.'

I'd love to know which ones of you realised that this was my very first attempt at writing fanfiction or that English is only my third language. Because if you did, then you can hopefully tell me what tipped you off so that I can improve it. I'd really love to get hints on what was bad/good/average, 'cause I know I'm far from perfect and I don't have a beta-reader to correct me. Even comma placement rules or stuff would be useful.

Clarifications for anyone who encountered understanding problems:

(1) No snow in Hogsmeade

The village is made to be an all-around-the-year-snow-covered-place in the movies and it's explanation is not 'magic does it' but rather 'its above the snow line for the whole year' – which makes it unreasonable to me, thus it's got a couple of snow-free months in my fanfic. Whilst Harry is climbing up steps at the end of the secret tunnel to the candy shop, he walked on even earth for a whole hour before that. When they go through the tunnel below the Whomping Willow there is no mention of difference at all other than walking below the surface and resurfacing. Not enough altitude difference to match the climate difference between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade from the movies, resulting in snow-free summermonths for the village. Plus, it rained when they arrived for their third year.

(2) Al's and Ed's bodies

They did not regain their original body(part)s because if Ed really got his arm back it would have been mere bone and skin (like Al's), thus making it pretty useless in the final fight. Let's assume he didn't pull that stunt to destroy Winry's precious automail – because it's no use to survive just to get murdered by your own mechanic because you wrecked yet another baby of her's.

(3) Cornish Pixies

Because I loved the scene in the second book and always wondered what happened to them. They got the wings from the movie because they just make them even more epic.

As for the timelines:

1) It's manga-verse for FMA, not long after the Promised Day. This is important because I want to try to write Ed's characterization as he was at the end of the story which not many do - and I thus lack in fanfic examples to rely on. Just to give you an idea: Ed was not that short for his age at the end of the series, he's easily taller than Winry, he only lacked height compared to adults (at least when wearing his elevator boots...), which is not that unusual for a mere 16 years old. Yes, it's funny to read his outbursts and he will get teased by Mustang at some points during the fic but it's a lot less often than usual.

2) It's the end of the third book for HP, which you probably noticed. Now I consider Ed merely following Harry and Co. for four years straight mostly boring, just to warn you, though I have to admit that some authors have managed to pull it off by doing an excellent job. As for this fanfic, he'll get his own quests to solve and help them with theirs occasionally, resulting in maybe two out of four years worth direct interaction.

3) Combined Timeline

In this crossover, Amestris and Europe exist in the same dimension/world but use different calendars concerning the count in years. This is because I seriously can't imagine Amestris to rely on a calender whose start date is the birthyear of Jesus Christ. Not with 'Father' pulling the strings for a couple hundreds of years and stomping down the Ishbalan religion around their Creator. 1915 (Promised Day) thus equals 1994 (end 3rd and beginning 4th book).

Thanks again for reading and please consider to review.

See you, hopefully, in the next part:

Chapter 2: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore