Chapter Text
If Alphonse had a nickel for every time he got body snatched by a vaguely disembodied entity with appearance of a school boy, he would have two nickels. Which wasn’t much but it’s very weird it happened twice. In less than a year. Only this time he had very little recollection of what really happened, even though his head felt clearer than it had in weeks. All vague bits and pieces mixed in with coherent toughs.
“Alphonse? Are you okay?” he blinked at the hand before his face. But when he tried to reach out, he found his arms trapped.
“Uh yeah but why am I trapped?” There was nothing but blank in his mind between lying on the floor and now. Right, why had he been lying on the floor again? “it’s all a bit blurry.”
Edward huffed out a breath. At least he remembered to free him from his stone prison before he started the lengthy explanation about the diary. All the while he watched as his brother evened out the floor of the basement he had used for his impromptu exorcism ritual. Worried he noted the missing arm. And the sluggish movement.
“…Yeah, that’s about it. I don’t know what happned to the little shit, the diary is empty tough.” To prove his point his brother ripped out a page with his teeth.
Hum. So that’s what it was. “I might be able to help you there. I remembered something pulling energy from me, felt pretty similar to what Father did in Amestris so I kinda panicked. I didn’t want to lose my soul or my body again right after I got them back. Don’t be mad but I may have scratched a circle into my chest. I think it backfired and trapped Riddle in my body after you pulled him from the book.” He pushed his shirt out of the way to reveal the deep red marks, they looked more like a brand than the superficial scratches he remembered making. “At least I can feel something at the back of my mind that is most definitely not me.”
“That was exactly what I was trying to avoid! I wanted to pull the thing out of you and trap it in that stupid book.“ Edward groaned. “At this point it’s probably safe to assume the diary was holding a soul. At least if the sigil on your chest is really holding it inside you and it’s not staying out of its own will. Fucking wizards. I really hope it is a soul, at least then we know how to deal with it. Instead we have to consider it could be just memories or a ghost or I don’t know, a demon?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s kind of ridiculous right brother? We just got out of one soul snatching business and now we’re back in the next. What are the chances that we find this even here?”
Still, what were thy supposed to do with Tom now? He couldn’t just stay in his body he had to get to his own. Where ever that was. Maybe he could ask him later. “What do you think we should do? It doesn’t feel right to just kill him. We don’t even know what his intentions are to begin with.”
“Agreed. I’d say we talk to Flamel again and see if he found something else, until then you will just have to hold on to him, I guess. And I need a new arm, how long do you thing my leg will hang on?” He nodded at Edward and dutifully ignored his mumbled curses. This was such a mess and they hadn’t even started with Truths deal yet. This world didn’t have Automail, where would they get something even remotely close to Winrys quality?
“Maybe we could start with treating you for snake poison.”
Wizards were really weird people. This became even more apparent when he managed to talk to the body snatching fake friend in his mind. It had taken him most day to prepare his mind to let out the metaphorical demon. The book, they had picked up in the book store, about a magic branch called Occlumency, certainly helped. A deciding easier magic branch than anything they had tried before. It was all about visualisation and controlling one’s emotions, and really wasn’t that what they had learned under Teacher? Even if Edward acted like the emotion part wasn’t all that important from time to time. It was just a matter of coding his very thoughts in a way he would code alchemy notes to prevent people from reading his tough or stealing his body. Honestly didn’t they have anything better to do than invent ways to try and read other peoples toughs? The trickiest part of all of this was probably trying to code his mind both ways and not slip up. Unlike the usual use Legilimancy he wasn’t dealing with an intruder form the outside, but form the inside of his mind. He managed in the end. Now came the moment of truth, did it hold against whatever Tom was going to throw against him?
Alphonse took a deep breath, then opened his mind carefully.
“Hello Riddle. Can we talk?”
Behind his closed eyes he saw the other as if behind prison bars. Aside from the cell they were in a blank void. Not unlike the one Truth liked to torment them in. As this was his own mind, he had full Control over all that was part of it, including Riddle.
“Talk? What for? Most certainly you are already searching for a definite way to kill me. Why prey tell would I give up my secrets?”
Al frowned. Behind the imaginary bars was not the face of a schoolboy or even a talking diary, it was a snake. Big, white and surrounded by a menacing and dark aura. It took up all the empty space of the imaginary cell, its red eyes would have been as big as two fists. An interesting way to see oneself.
Then again, who was he to talk. He let his inner self projection step forward. Part armour, part human. Though the human parts were far less clear, blurry like an image reflected in rippling water. “We are not going to kill you.”
The snake hissed.
Maybe he should have been afraid. But this was his mind, his most priced possession. He knew not to doubt it. Inside his head, there were no mysteries before him. He knew why Riddle choose to be a snake and not human, knew the hissing was not a threat but an act of desperation and fear. In this place he knew all, he was Truth.
Al smiled. “Let me show you something.”
Behind the snake a giant gate Opened. His gate of Truth.
The snake lunged at it; a predator catching their prey. It slithered right into his memory lane.
Maybe this was a mistake, showing the person who had tried to possess him not too long ago his most vulnerable memories. But he had to try. If he was right, if this truly was a soul then he, more than anyone, would be able to comprehend the horrors of a body that was not made for a human soul. He didn’t want to give up on someone he had considered a friend. Whatever the reason behind the diary may be, and he made himself no illusion whether it had been self-inflicted or not, he hoped to help him. Everyone deserved a second chance, if they were willing to take it.
The first thing he laid his eyes upon were two little boys performing a ritual. To their mothers amusement. Nothing special to take of note, a simple transfiguration. Only they performed it without a wand. Considering they did not appear old enough to even own a wand to begin with, it would be of little wonder they weren’t using one. On of them he recognises as Edward Elric, the other he concluded to be a younger Alphonse. Judging by their clothes he would have thought them to be muggles, simply cut without the complexity of wizard robes. But the ritual suggested otherwise.
“Our mother always encouraged our interest in alchemy. Maybe it was a way for her to feel closer to our father whose books served as our first teachers. Non the less, it must have hurt to see us practice the same art that drove her husband away.” Quickly he snapped his head toward the voice. Of course, it belonged to Alphonse, or at least the armour and body amalgamation that spoke with his voice. Curious, the boy so enamoured with science, choose the appearance of something akin to a fairytale to represent himself in his own mind.
The scene changed to a new one. This time the woman lay sick in her bed. The boys slightly older, crying at her beside. Now her resemblance to the Alphonse he had come to know through the pages of his diary was undeniable.
“Mother fell sick before father returned and died shortly after. We thought we were alone in the wold, no parent left or other family members. Aside from each other, there was certainly no one who would understand us, at least not then.”
A new scene appeared. Once more both boys were present, surrounded by what appeared to be an entire library splayed out on the floor, conglomerated with different potion ingredients. He couldn’t help but envy them. No adults to tell them what was proper. Instead, free academic rein. No other stupid brats who were nothing but a waste of oxygen. Apparently enough money to purchase a plethora of potion equipment to further advance their studies. Why couldn’t his dead mother have been a useful human being?
“We lost ourselves in our studies, desperate clinging to a theory, an idea. It didn’t matte to us if it was forbidden. We had yet to learn that there were reasons as to why things are forbidden.” He scoffed at that. Forbidden. What a funny little thing that word. It only applied to those to afraid or weak to try. Those who confined themselves to their cages. How disappointing to know Alphonse among them. He had hoped to find a kindred mind, then again, there was no one like him. He was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he was going to be the next Dark Lord.
When the scene changed it was obvious something was deeply wrong. The foreboding energy sweeping through the memory was almost tangible. At first glance it resembled the previous one quite closely, however it took place clearly much later. On second glance he realised the complex ritual circle drawn in chalk before them. Annoyed he had to surrender its meaning to his lacking knowledge.
“Ed and I were pretty arrogant.” Alphonse chuckled. “We thought ourselves above such things as life and death. With the power of alchemy, we believed we could make the world flow to our bidding. Only the right formula, the right equation, the right knowledge, and every matter would shape itself to our command.”
The little boys smiled when they activated the circle. Intrigued he watched the chalk lines light up and connect with the basin in the middle. An offering perhaps? He had discommoding little knowledge on alchemy; it eluded him how one would go about creating a functional transmutation.
Still, it was obvious when the ritual derailed from its intended proceeding. The light turned red as a gigantic eye opened in the middle, a void yet endless expanse reflected in its Iris. The mere memory of such entity left him breathless.
God.
How ironic.
“Of course we were punished. The Truth does not take kindly to those who try to play within their domain. One can not create something form nothing. The most important law of alchemy. Yet we did not take it into account. We wanted to raise the dead, so we created a body, yet forgot the most important part. The soul. There is no equal to the price of a soul. No equivalent exchange.”
Again, time must have passed between memories. This time the older Elric sported his recognisable braid. What absolute surprise his fashion sense used to be even worse in youth than now.
While Edward was clearly in focus, Alphonse was no where to be found. Hum. A failed dark magic ritual would certainly be reason enough to leave a body as mangled as Alphonse’s he supposed.
The older Elric appeared to be fighting something. A lion? No. A chimera. Why he would do so barehanded eluded him. Of course, the monster would clamp down on his arm, what did he expect? Stupid. Was this how he lost it? How pathetic.
Though he had to commend him for not flinching under the bite, it sure must hurt to be repurposed as a magical beast’s chewing toy.
Elric kicked the animal with a leg made of metal, so it stopped biting into his arm that was made of metal.
What in Christ's name?
“This is what happens to sinners who trespass in god’s domain!” Elric screamed. With his clothes ripped the lines between human and machine were obvious. An arm and a leg.
Alphonse manifested beside an armour that looked like a more complete version of his current image. “The price for trying to bring our mother back was Edwards leg.” The human part smiled. “And my entire body. Ed traded his arm to bind my soul to an empty armour.”
Was he…
Two armours were fighting before them. One of them unquestionable Alphonse. When a hit connected a hollow sound followed, no matter which combatant punched.
“Barry the Chopper. He was a serial killer before he was sentenced to death. Well, our government found a fate worse than death, to bind one’s soul to an armour and have them be an immortal guard for eternity. He died when his soulless body destroyed the blood rune tying his soul to the armour.”
The images changed faster now. He saw people in vaguely military clothing strutting trough white halls. A man lighting a room in fire with a snap of his fingers. A small person turned from human to gigantic green monstrosity in seconds. A man exploding things with a single touch of his hand. A woman inside Alphonse armour shell getting pierced by swords wielded by one of the blue military men. A child made of shadows. A wave of humanoid one eyed beings getting scorched by the snapping man again.
Still his mind was stuck. A soul bound to an object.
The armour half destroyed but still moving. Until it wasn’t. People with faces he barely recognised from the wave of images from before carried the metal plates trough an icy wasteland.
A being of immeasurable power surviving trough volley after volley of attacks from all the people he had seen in the visions before and more. A God. Immortal if the way he absorbed the arm of one attacker in his face. Someone like that didn’t need to fear.
“A Homunculus. He called himself Father. He split seven pieces of himself thinking if he let go of humanity enough, he would reach godhood. Later he tried to absorb God altogether. It didn’t work. He lived for the better part of 400 years, so did our actual father. Then my brother and I put an end to him. With help of course.”
Was that a threat?
“It is a warning. I don’t know what you did, but I know what you are. A soul bound to an object. Since you don’t appear to be missing any limbs or organs, you probably killed someone to archive this, right?”
Impossible! How could this- this- child know about Horcruxes? Nothing made sense. He was Tom Marvolo Riddle, he was invincible, immortal, the genius of his generation. He stood above everything and everyone, one day the world would know him as Lord Voldemort. Nobody-
“You are afraid. And lonely.” He hissed at the monstrosity masquerading as human. “Its okay to be afraid. You don’t have to be lonely either. We can still be friends if you don’t try to steal my body again.”
Was this boy crazy? He had killed in cold blood. He had split his soul willingly. He had no intention to stop. What in Merlin’s name made him think he would change his plans after this, clearly fake memory show. Oh, he knew what was going on now. Dumbledor. Clearly the old loon had trained these boys in the perfect deception to catch him off guard. This was too well manufactured to be anything but his next pitiful attempt at love and compassion.
“I see. I will leave you for now then. One last thing though, this is my mind you know. I know everything inside it and at the moment that includes you. I know all that you know, all your memories, thoughts and dreams. I thought you should know.” The human half gave him another one of those repulsive half smiles. The helmet didn’t change.
Their surroundings returned to the small mind space little Elric had so graciously left him as his cell. Gracefully he curled himself in one corner and decided not to think. A truly fulfilling past time he had perfected in the years inside the diary. Any time now his thoughts would vanish and take with them those pesky feelings.
Yo Flamel,
Missed us? We’re not dead yet, but might have been. Thanks again for that exorcism circle. Without it we might have kicked the bucket.
Unfortunately I was probably right. We can’t know for sure, but its highly likely. Given the circumstances. If you could try to find something on Horcuxes that would be great. Apparently that’s what their called in this world.
Al is fine for the moment. Getting better actually. Though I wouldn’t count on it forever. He trapped the diary in his own body. We didn’t know that was possible. I probably shouldn’t be. A boy is only made to contain one soul, not one and a half. I can’t keep splicing my own up to use it as fuel so the sooner we find out how to get rid of it, the better. I have a good idea what I would do if this was alchemy. Emphasise on alchemy. I’ve got no idea where to begin with this magic bullshit. For all I know, we go through with the ritual and Al turns into a baby. I really hate this soul business.
On another note, Dumber’s. The old man send us another letter. This time he wants us to be teachers in that castle of his. We’re going to see him and decline. If you could write him a letter to discourage him that would be great. I don’t know, tell him we’re terribly asocial or Al’s on the brink of death. Maybe both. Don’t care, just get him off our ass. We don’t need him sniffing around when we do our shit.
Speaking of shit stuff, very impressive and high quality stuff. My Automail broke. I’m down an arm. I’ll be honest, no idea how long my leg is gonna hold on. We’ve been in a military coup before coming here, the thing isn’t exactly shop new. I get that this world did not advance as much as ours on the prosthetic front, but do you know anyone who would be able to make something similar? Whatever happened to us get’s classified as dark magic under diagnostic spells, so we can’t just magic a new arm and be done with it. We tried.
That’s pretty much all. Until I have a new arm and Al manages to stay awake for a day with no trouble, we’re not coming for lessons. If you got problems with your alchemy we’re still open to help out over letters, no problem. Honestly please send us something, waiting and healing can get pretty boring.
Don’t do anything stupid, keep healthy and send Prenell our greeting,
yours Ed and Al