Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, that right belongs to J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own Fairy Tail or its characters, that right belongs to Hiro Mashima. Also, I do not own the opening chorus and first verse of Crazy Train; that right belongs to Ozzy Osbourne.

Author's Note: I will try to keep it as canon to both worlds as possible, though I know I will be taking quite a few liberties as a writer. So if you do not like that, I politely ask you toturn around and leave now. Because I don't see the point in you wasting your time and mine.

Percy stared in amazement at the face-sized, crystal-like disc as he felt magic being pushed into it. The way the screen clouded over and shimmered with a golden light before crackling that sounded distinctly like electricity could be heard. It had him learning forwards a bit more to try and figure out how it was working. Again in a short time, he'd been in this other world, Earthland, he'd come to see some significant differences from his own. It amazed him and horrified how this world was at times more advanced, yet further behind.

When the screen began to clear, Percy jerked his head back and blinked at the sight of a male face that appeared. Staying silent as he observed, Percy noted this man, for there was no mistaking gender, had short spikey blond hair that seemed to defy gravity (like a few others people), stormy gray-blue eyes, and oddly enough a scar over one eye that looked like a lightning bolt of all things. His mind shifted through all he had been told and realized this was Laxus Dreyar, the grandson of Fairy Tail's Guild Master.

"Yeah, what do you need, gramps?" Laxus asked.

"We have a question for Bickslow, Laxus. Is he available?" Makarov asked.

Percy knew he was smiling as he watched Laxus look like someone threw cold water on his face. A slow nod and bellow later had another person filling the Lacrima Com's screen. This person had a half helmet on, and their tongue was hanging out. Feeling slightly offended by the way this person was acting, Percy did his best to keep it from his face.

"Hey, Bickslow, sorry to bother you while you guys are out on a mission," Makarov said. "But we have a question that relates to a unique situation. Think you can help us, brat?"

Percy looked askance at the short Guild Master. He found it odd that he called everyone in his Guild, including a man clearly into his late forties (Gildarts he believed his name was) a brat. Yet, at the same time, he knew it was an endearment that showed the man's affection.

"Yeah, sure. But I don't know how I can help you unless it deals with my magic," Bickslow said, laughing a bit nervously.

"Bickslow, it does," Lucy spoke up.

Percy blinked and shifted a bit as Lucy brushed against him as she bent over to been seen. And Percy, there was no mistaking the lecherous shift of the man's mood. It disgusted him that a lot of the guys in the Guild tended to oogle the blond, refuse to call her by her name. And while Lucy had assured him that she was okay with the nicknames, he was not. Propriety and manners were something everyone was taught and should adhere to.

"Wow, really Cosplayer?" Bickslow said, genuine shock in his voice. "What do you need? Ya know I am always up to help out a beautiful woman like you."

"Bixs!"

The shrill, feminine screech from someone unseen had Percy raising his eyebrows as Bickslow seemed to curl into himself.

"It is fine," Lucy said, talking to whoever screeched. "I just need to know how long it takes a soul to go... bad after it passes. And uh, this is going to sound odd, but if a soul could be transported from one world to another?"

It was interesting to see the man go still at the questions. Having had Seith Magic explained to him after they said they'd need to contact Bickslow had given Percy some semblance of hope.

"It varies depending on the age of the person the soul comes from. The more innocent and younger they are, it takes longer. Unless a dark Seith Mage gets their hands on them. The older they are when they pass, well it depends on the type of life they led, how they died, and the amount of resentment they accumulate in that time," Bickslow explained, his words slow and deliberate.

Percy listened carefully to what was both said and left unsaid. The magic of Earthland was genuinely fascinating. And knowing she could never go home, he figured if he had to study something here, the magic would be a good start. Making an entirely composed and in-depth compendium sounded like fun. Then he could start on the strange creatures that could talk and interact with a human level of intellect.

"As for your other question, you know my magic is just as rare as yours, and very little is known. I mean most Seith Mages don't live to be in their twenties or stay on the sight of light," Bickslow stated, his voice dropping a few octaves and sounding sad. "But I don't see why a soul couldn't? I mean, they have no physical body, and if the right conditions are met, I guess it would be like passing over to the afterlife. Except you take a wrong turn at Crocus."

Percy felt relief wash through him at what the man was saying. There was still hope to hang on to that Fred had ended up here, and he could find him (before he went bad) and send him back home to George to put back into his preserved body.

"Hey, these are good questions and all, but I want to know why you would be asking them all of a sudden, Cosplayer?" Bickslow asked, drawing Percy's attention back to the Lacrima Com.

"That, brat, will be explained when your team is back safely," Makarov said. "Now, I will let you get back to your mission."

"Oh, about that, we're done, we will be catching a train in a few hours," A new male voice spoke from somewhere off-screen.

Percy felt the shift in the atmosphere in the office. Again his mind was sifting through all he was told. Realizing that this mission was supposed to be a long and tough one, rounding up bandits and Dark Mages of an up and coming Dark Guild. And they'd been gone for about a week before he'd had arrived.

"Well, talk when you get back," Makarov said before the screen went blank.

Lucy felt ecstatic over what Bickslow had told them. Carefully she stood up, feeling her lower back muscles protest since she had bent over to be seen. And was pretty darn sure that her Guild Master had enjoyed how close her breast was to his face. Looking at Percy, she saw relief and hope shine in his pale blue eyes. Yet Lucy could tell he was closing himself off as he went into deep thought. In the two weeks, he'd been there; she had found it fascinating in hearing about the differences between their two worlds. Yet it was equally fascinating to see how Percy was slowly adapting to being in hers.

That and it amused her; he was always acted like a gentleman and attempted to lecture the others. She appreciated it and was glad he wasn't all pomp and circumstance. That he didn't pressure her or any of the other women in the Guild to be perfect, prim and proper, ladies, nope, Percy had made it clear that he thought women should be treated with respect. Of course, they had watched him stand up and defend his choice in morals and using his magic rope to tie up a few people before they were able to get him, as Makarov hadn't given him his wand back.

"This is good, right, Percy?" she asked, reaching out and touching his arm lightly.

When he started and looked at her, pale blue eyes wide, before his ears began to blend perfectly with his red hair. Lucy smiled and waited as he nodded his head. Knowing that he was in what she called study mode, a thing Levy and Freed often did, she let it be.

Bickslow sat next to Freed on the train, his mind going back over the questions that Lucy had asked. In a pocket in his kilt, he felt the soft pulsing of the new soul. It had outright refused to be put into anything and be kept, though was extremely happy to have someone to talk to. But the poor thing was tuckered out from expanding itself, helping to attack the evil wizards. A word that was odd in usage to the Dark Mages. Then again, his whole team had found his new friend; hopefully, soul, endearing for a reason it had tuckered itself out over. There had been children in underground storage space — children that would have been sold into slavery and possibly missed by his team.

The amount of magic used to hide that damn room was impressive — all kinds of runes. Freed had had a field day to the point he was muttering very creative obscenities under his breath as he broke them, which means that whoever they had gotten to layer those runes was someone as talented as Freed. Leaning back and closing his eyes, Bickslow concentrated on the little soul.

"What? Need me to help you kick butt again?"

Bickslow couldn't help but smile, "Nah, just making sure you are okay, there little buddy."

"Dude, don't be a git! I am seventeen; I am no one's little buddy. I am the elder of a set of powerful twins!"

This was interesting information, as well as the use of a word he didn't understand. Then again, he figured it was meant to be insulting.

"So, where do you come from? Have a name? How long have you been without your body?" Bickslow asked his questions.

There was a bit of silence that dragged on. It was telling in the sense that the soul had probably been out of the body for more than two weeks at best. Memory loss started around the end of week one.

"England. Fred Weasley. When I arrived here, the moon was full in the sky... and it is almost full again."

Blinking as he sat up startled, Bickslow tried to rationalize what he was told. The answers held no hesitation. No, they were clear and concise. But the fact it had been a month by the soul's estimation was astounding. Bickslow couldn't believe that this soul, Fred, had been dead that long and was still cognitive and hadn't turned was practically unheard of.

"What? I say something funny? And what do you fancy pants, wandless wizards do for fun? I like to create jokes and pranks...harmless, of course," Fred told him.

Bickslow made a mental note to ask Freed later if he had ever heard of a city called England in one of the other countries because he knew that it didn't exist in Fiore. And that he would be getting along really well with Fred if he loved to pull pranks.

"So, you said twins?" Bickslow asked.

"Yeah, his name is George. We were identical twins and loved to use to mess around with people. At least until a Dark Wizard blew off George's ear," Fred said. "I miss him. I miss my family, man. All six of my siblings, mother, father... Hell, I miss Harry and Hermoine as well."

Bickslow filed away the names to ask about them later. It concerned him he could remember so much from his previous life.

"Sorry, Fred. If there is a way I can help you find them, give you some peace and absolution, I will do my best. Kinda falls into my magic's area," Bickslow explained, trying to be polite and neutral. "So, we still have several hours before this train reaches Magnolia. The city me and my team call home. I think you should rest a bit more."

There was silence for a few long drawn out seconds before Fred started to hum, then sing. And the lyrics had Bickslow smothering his laughter and causing his body to shake and drawing Freed's attention from his book to look at him. Bickslow pointed to his pocket that the soul rested in. Getting a mildly interest look, Bickslow mouthed the lyrics to Freed, after telling him the soul was singing.

"All aboard! Hahahahahahahaaaa!

Ay (ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay)

Crazy, but that's how it goes

Millions of people living as foes

Maybe it's not too late

To learn how to love and forget how to hate."

TBC!