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Chapter Text

“It’s my portal of truth, so I get to decide how it’s used.”

Ed wasn’t expecting Truth to just freeze like that, his expression blank. It was unnerving to see Truth without his megalomaniac grin.

“Just take my gate already. I know it will cover Al’s debt. It’s eternal truth, or the All if you will. That’s more than plenty to cover a human being. I want to get Al home. I can live without alchemy. It’s not like I’m addicted to it or anything.”

“You’re too late.”

Ed’s eyes widened, his hands trembling.

“Wh-what do you mean ‘too late’?”

Ed cursed the tremor in his voice.

“I mean, that was the right answer up until a few minutes ago.”

“But-!” Ed started frantically.

“HOWEVER, that does not mean your problem is not solved.”

Ed was shaking at this point, as was Al, just out of sight behind Truth. The older Elric froze, not even twitching, when he saw the peaceful, genuine smile on Truth’s face.

“What solved your problem, young Hohenheim, is you.”

“No, Ed! Don’t do it!” Al cried; his voice hoarse from disuse.

Ed hung his head, his fringe shielding his eyes from his brother.

“…okay…”

“NO! BROTHER!”

Ed flinched, while Truth started laughing, that same maniacal laugh that had haunted them both for the past six years.

“Relax, alchemist. I don’t mean I’m going to take your brother.”

Both boys paused at that, tension not yet leaving, but panic kept at bay by those words, hope stuttering back alive after its sudden demise moments before.

“Then what do you mean?” Edward finally asked.

“Simple,” Truth stated, “You have done something that no one else has done before. This would be the fourth time you have opened the gate, of your own volition, when no one else has opened it more than twice, and have given the proper answer after so long, as well as fulfilling your quest.”

“What quest? Then, what is the toll to get Al back?”

Truth giggled, a delighted little noise, “You’ve already paid it.”

Ed frantically scanned himself to see what was missing, but to his surprise, he was intact, both legs and all.

“Wh-what?” he shakily managed to ask.

Truth cackled again, “For a genius, you’re rather slow on the uptake, aren’t you? You learned your lesson, alchemist! You did the impossible! You stopped Father! You did what I could not, beating him on the ground with your bare fists! You should get a little reward at least.”  Truth’s smile lost its manic edge as his cackling ceased, “Besides, I still need you on the ground. Someone else is begging to knock on my door, and I need you down there to stop it yet again.”  Ed could practically see the nonexistent eyes roll.

Both doors opened, as black, fingered tendrils grabbed both boys, pulling them through their own gates.

“Wait!” Ed cried, “What do you mean you need me? What am I supposed to stop? Is Father coming back?! Wait!”

BANG!

Truth sat, staring at the closed gate in front of him.

“You will find out in time, Mr. Alchemist. I wish you luck.”

“Hey, Winry?”

He can’t believe he did that!

“Yeah, ED?”

He was NOT planning on doing that!

“E-EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE!”

Why did he go and open his big, dumb mouth?

“YOU GIVE ME HALF OF YOUR LIFE, AND I’LL GIVE YOU HALF OF MINE!”

But then, she didn’t say no…

“How ‘bout I just give you my whole life?”

Edward grinned as he remembered her flustered and frantic calculations before settling on 85%. He could live with that. 85% was a good number, after all. He chuckled to himself before freezing.

But what did that mean?

Does he now give 85% of his life to her? What even is 85%? Should he not have left? Should he have taken her with him? Are they… are they engaged now?

“GAAAHH!!” he shrieked, clutching both sides of his head.

‘This is too nerve wracking!’

“Mommy, is he okay?” a little girl asked her mother across the aisle from the researcher.

The girl reminded him of Elicia, and a pang of regret stung him enough to calm him down a bit. That was one mistake he could never fix, but he was glad the little girl had so many people in her life to support her.

“I’m okay, kid. I’m just a little worried is all,” he tried explaining, shaking away his depressing thoughts.

“Worried about what?” the girl asked, cocking her head to the side like an overgrown puppy.

Ed chuckled nervously, “Well, I kinda just proposed to this girl right before the train left?”

His answer sounded more like a question than a statement, but Ed now had the attention of many people on the train.

“Oh! How exciting!”

“Congratulations!”

“What did she say?”

Ed nervously told the story to the half of the car that was leaning forward expectantly. When he finished, most of them were shaking their heads in sympathy for this girl.

“You’ll have to get her a ring and propose again properly,” someone commented.

Ed nodded dumbly; his mind set to planning. At least he knew he had time. He wouldn’t be seeing her for another year anyway.

Ed carefully set the watch on General Mustang’s desk. His new, massive office going quiet, the whole team waiting to see what would happen.

”Fullmetal- “

“I’m not Fullmetal anymore, Colonel, er, General. I’m just Ed,” he spoke softly, his head bowed, a slight smile on his face.

Everyone waited for Ed to comment on Havoc’s legs, or Mustang’s one restored eye, but he never did. Clearly, he understood.

“Edward, I would like for you to reconsider leaving the military.”

Ed glanced up at his commanding officer of five years.

“I have a proposition for you,” Mustang continued before Ed could refuse him, “Stay under me and help me rebuild the relationships we have lost with our neighbors.”

Ed shook his head, “Sorry, Col-, er, General. Al and I are done. We’re going to travel, research, learn. I don’t want to be a dog anymore. I accomplished my mission,” Ed’s cocky grin made its first appearance in a while, “Besides, there are better things to do with my time than diplomacy.”

Mustang’s signature smirk matched Ed’s, their comfortable banter setting both at ease again, “You didn’t let me finish. I want you and your brother. You two would be great help in restoring the Ishvalan nation. There are a lot of cities to rebuild, and no one has more experience restoring destroyed city blocks than you two.”

Everyone chuckled at Ed’s half-hearted grumbling.

“I’ll talk to Al.”

Mustang smiled, confident that the younger Elric would be more than willing to help out.

It took more than two years to restore all the devastated cities, but they managed it, the relations between the two peoples strengthened considerably. In the cleanup, the brothers even found more Xerxes ruins, as well as a few artifacts and history. Being the last Xerxians, the finds all belonged to the brothers, and they donated everything but a few ancient texts to the Central Museum, starting a culture exhibit. From what Ed had heard, it had grown to include Ishvalan culture as well as some Xingese and Drachman artifacts.

“We cleaned up your mess, General Bastard. What excuse do you have for keeping us this time?” Ed asked, Alphonse cringing next to him, shooting the General an apologetic look for his brother’s typical attitude.

Roy wasn’t sure, but it seemed that Alphonse had always been a fairly expressive boy, just like his brother, but no one had been able to see it through the armor.

“I understand you both have plans to travel to other countries for research. Would you consider being an ambassador of sorts? Mostly in name only, but it would strengthen crumbling bonds between countries to have this kind of political move, and you and Al would still have military protection and funds for your travels.”

Ed stared, then opened his mouth to answer when he was cut off.

“This is a request I am making of both you and your brother,” Roy turned to Al, “If you need time to think it over, do so. Of course, we will probably change your title. State Alchemist doesn’t really fit you guys anymore, does it?” Roy asked with a twinkle in his eye.

The Fullmetal Alchemist glanced askance at his brother, the Lifearmor Alchemist, “And you just got your fancy title and everything.”

Al chuckled, “It does fit me rather well, doesn’t it? It will fit better once I master medical Alkahestry, though.”

Mustang’s smirk did not go unnoticed, “You will retain those titles, but the F ührer and I have discussed the possibility of changing your status from ‘State Alchemist’ to ‘State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador.’  It’s a bit of a mouthful, but this will allow you to continue your research abroad,” Roy’s smirk grew, if that were possible, “Naturally, this comes with a promotion and subsequent raise.”

It took every ounce of willpower the man possessed not to laugh at the way Ed perked up at that.

The young man considered the offer, a silent conversation passing between the two brothers.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, future F ührer.”

A little less than a year later, and Edward was off to the west, Fullmetal State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador, or SARA for short. Ed swore he would have pounded Roy’s face into the pavement for that nickname, if he wasn’t afraid of damaging his only working eye. After using part of the stone to fix Havoc’s legs, there was only enough power in the stone to save one of Roy’s eyes, so the man opted for a simple eyepatch. Ed had no proof, but he was pretty sure there was something off about Roy’s blind eye. He wasn’t convinced the eye was totally blind. It was a little too similar to the Ultimate Eye, and creeped the boy out a little.

Still, he liked this new job. Amestris and its neighboring countries were very isolationist, so not much travel happened between the continent of Xeno and the rest of the world.

In fact, no travel had happened at all.

Edward would be the first Xenoean to leave the continent in about five hundred years, if the history books were to be believed.

He hoped to be able to learn the language quickly. He had always had a knack for languages, along with everything else, so he had about thirteen he could translate written, including the language of his destination as he had gotten his hands on a few snippets of it, although he could only speak four languages fluently: Amestrian, Xerxian, Ishvalan, Xingese.

‘Surely, it can’t be that hard. I just hope their food isn’t weird.’

As he settled back down in his train seat, pulling out a book on his destination to occupy himself, he fervently hoped they didn’t have milk in his new home.

Chapter Text

It was early evening when Edward docked his boat, transmuting it back to the driftwood it had been on the coast of Drachma when he left. Cautiously, he glanced around at the city on the river, impressed by the architecture.

“If they can make buildings like this, their alchemy must be impressive.”

He turned to march up the path, heading to the impressive building nearest him, watching the locals wander around the shops, trying to listen in and decipher the language. He was making decent headway in that regard when he spotted a bookshop. He had seen the paper currency used by the locals, so he discretely transmuted a handful of his own cenz into what he guessed he would need for a few books before entering the store. He picked a few that he thought would help him, before paying without a word and leaving, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, hoping no one noticed the fact he clearly didn’t belong. He figured he would have to change his outfit if he didn’t want to attract too much attention, as his style stuck out like a sore thumb. Spotting a nice, crowded outdoor café, he found a table where he could see and hear the locals around him, as he dove into the books he purchased.

He had enough of an understanding of the written language from his studying while still in Amestris, but it seemed that the language had changed greatly. He had purchased a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a little tourist book entitled Speak Like a Native, as well as a few books on history and politics. He was easily lost in the pages.

“Sir? We’re closing.”

Ed pulled himself out of the S section of the thesaurus. ‘Why do they need so many ways to say small?’  He glanced up at the woman who clearly just wanted to go home. 

“Zorry, I vill be leavink now.”

The waitress startled at the thick accent before collecting herself, “Not a problem, love.”

Ed’s eyebrow rose at that. ‘Love? Is that a local thing or is she making fun of me?’ 

“Joo vould not happen to know uv a plaze to ztay for ze night?”

The woman smiled, her earlier attitude melting as she studied the young man. His travel-weary appearance and heavy accent made it painfully obvious he was very far from home. 

“O’ course I can show ya, love. Now whatcha wanna do is take the Pickadilly line to . . .“  She cut herself off at his stumped look. 

“Vhat iz a dilly and vhy iz it picked?”

She frowned. This would be harder than she thought. 

The Fullmetal alchemist woke with a start. The kind woman had helped him to a bus stop that would take him where he needed to go, so he had thanked her, leaving a large tip, and hopped on the bus. Unfortunately, it seemed he had fallen asleep, thanks to the long journey and lack of sleep, and now he had missed his stop, as well as many others. According to the scrolling letters, he had missed a total of eleven stops. He quickly hopped off the bus before it could carry him further away, glancing around to see where he had ended up. A sign nearby read “Surrey” so he assumed that was where he was. He had seen and heard the name “London” earlier that evening, so he knew he had gone a lot further than he had originally planned. He glanced at the route schedule posted at the bus stop. 

‘Darn. Should have stayed on that bus.’

Resigned to his fate, he chose a random direction and started walking. He could appreciate the stillness out here. Very different from the bustle of London and Central. It was quieter, not quite as quiet as Resembool, but close.

After a couple hours of wandering, he found a nice park, with very inviting benches. Heaving a bone-weary sigh, he laid down on a bench, using the suitcase he had lugged around with him all day, now heavier with books, as a pillow. 

The next morning found Edward awake with the sun, blinking back the sleepiness that was a result of too few hours of sleep. With a jaw-breaking yawn, he stretched, sitting up and looking around, now that he had daylight to see his surroundings.

He appeared to be in the suburbs somewhere, in a park in the middle of a quaint neighborhood.

Before he set off to explore too far, he used his alchemy to make a safe place to hide his luggage in an old alleyway. Taking the alleyway to the end, he found himself in a town square of sorts. Well, it had a little café, a small store, and an accountant office. He wandered around the business section of the little town, stopping into the little cafe for breakfast. As he walked, he counted the counterfeit money he had left. The monetary system here was very different from back home, so he had overestimated how much he would need. He probably had a few too many zeros in his hand, but without knowing the exchange rate, he had to guess.

Glancing up as he tucked away his wallet, he saw in front of him, a glorious building, one that had his blood pumping in excitement at the sight: a library.

It wasn’t as grand as the newly rebuilt Central Library, but it was a library, and that was enough for Ed.

The lone Amestrian spent the next several days in a set routine: wake from his bench, stop by his spot to leave his luggage in the alleyway, head to the café for breakfast, then get lost in the library’s pages. After about a week, he had read through the entirety of the nonfiction section of the library, as well as parts of the fiction section. After watching this, one of the librarians showed him how to use the library’s computers, and the young man then spent his time searching the internet.

He wanted to learn all about this world.

Harry glanced at the man walking into the park from his vantage point on the swings. The blonde with the suitcase didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, but after the Triwizard Tournament, he had been on guard, waiting for an attack. Sending a single crony, and a young one, from the looks of him, to take Harry out didn’t seem like Voldemort’s style, but he could never be sure.

All of Harry’s worrying seemed to be for naught, however, when the stranger plopped down on a park bench, curling up under his long, red coat and resting his head on the brown, leather suitcase he carried.

Harry chuckled at the loud snores coming from the vagabond. Clearly, the man wasn’t a threat.

Before Harry could return to his interrupted musings, he heard the sound of voices. Looking up, he recognized Dudley’s gang, dumb brutes, the lot of them. He was hoping they would turn his way. He was anxious to vent some of his frustrations on the boys that had once made his life hell. He had his wand, and he wasn’t afraid of them anymore.

Unfortunately for both Harry and the supposed homeless blonde, the boys saw the sleeping man but hadn't spotted Harry.

Malcolm was the first to notice him, not that the bright red coat was hard to miss.

“Lookit, Big D! We got us a street bum!”

“Wonder what he sells?” Piers mused.

“What makes you think he’s selling anything?” Gordon asked.

Malcolm laughed, “They’re always selling stuff, that’s why they’re on the street.”

“Wanna do him like we did little Evans?” Piers asked.

Dudley grinned that grin that ten-year old Harry had so feared. The grin that meant you were cornered.

“Why not? Let’s see what he’s selling.”

At this point, Harry was getting ready to interrupt, to make noise and wake the man up so he could escape, to hide and hit the boys with a few nasty curses, to do something to stop them from beating the poor man to a bloody pulp. Dudley was a boxing champion after all.

“HEY! HOMELESS GUY!”

The blonde in question awoke at the loud voice, sitting up and turning to see the four boys crowded around his bench.

“Can I help you?”

Ed was rather proud that he hadn’t pounded the kids into the sidewalk when they yelled him awake. ‘Alphonse would be so proud of my self-control.’

He was also rather proud of the fact that he had nearly mastered the local accent. After several weeks of talking to the locals, he could replicate it almost flawlessly.

“Hey guys, he’s foreign!” the mousy one kindly informed his peers.

Ed resisted the dire need to roll his eyes at that statement. ‘Me? Foreign? No shit, Sherlock. Guess my accent still needs work.'

Ed really did like that character. His adventures were one of the fictional books he had read. Taking a page from the greatest detective who ever lived, he tapped his fingertips together, resting his chin on them, his eyebrows raised.

“Elementary, my dear stranger.”

Harry tried. He really did try very hard not to laugh, but Dudley and Piers caught the sound of his suppressed chortles behind them and turned to see the scrawny Potter kid. To Harry’s immense satisfaction, Dudley paled. He was probably thinking the foreign weirdo was a wizard as well now, if Harry was involved with him. Relief washed over Harry, as Dudley would never purposefully antagonize an adult wizard. The last time he did, he had to have a pig tail surgically removed. He was certainly in no hurry to repeat the traumatizing experience.

Unfortunately, Piers did not share Dudley’s fear.

“What are you here for, Potter?” he sneered, “Is he your dealer? What’s he selling you, eh? Where you getting the money for it? You beating up kids for pocket change?”

Harry grew increasingly angry as Piers continued firing off insulting question after insulting question, but before he could retaliate, the young adult on the bench spoke up. 

“What do you mean ‘What’s he selling you?’  Who said I am selling anything?”

Dudley decided now was as good a time to speak up as any. He had to keep up appearances in front of the gang at least.

“You’re a little drug dealer, aren’t you?”

What transpired after that taunt would haunt the four bullies till the end of their days. With a movements too fast to follow, the strange boy had given Dudley a few fists to the face and a knee or two to the gut, all the while yelling about an over exaggerated slight to his height. Dudley’s loyal gang turned tail and ran, leaving their “fearless leader” to fight for himself. The boxing champion fell to the ground when the foreigner dropped the collar he had grabbed in his anger.

“Might have hit a little too hard. He is just a kid. Oops.”

Harry shook himself out of his shock, moving forward to claim his cousin before he got pounded again. Harry may not like the guy, but he didn’t want to just leave him to this violent stranger. He was probably going to be blamed for the state of him already. He was always blamed when Dudley got himself in trouble. 

“That’s my cousin,” he called running up to kneel down to Dudley, “Can you stand?”

Dudley groaned. He took that as a yes. 

“Zorry, I let my temper get ze better of me again.”

Harry glanced up, mildly fearful, to see his potential attacker looking rather sheepish. 

“It’s okay,” Harry reassured the guy, “Lord knows the jerk could use a good beating or two, but what did he even say? He’s taunted me and beat the crap out of loads of kids, but I’m the only one who ever fought back.”

The stranger grumbled something in what Harry assumed was his native language again.

“In English?”

The stranger flinched, looking sheepish. 

“I zaid he called me little,” he explained, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. Now that he was calm, he was able to better mimic the local accent again, “It’s a sore spot of mine.”

Harry nodded. ‘Fair enough. Heaven knows I was short for the longest time. Still am a bit, actually.’

“The name’s Harry.”

“Ed.”

“Bloody demon.”

The two glanced at the ground to see Dudley starting to recover. Harry moved to help him to his feet, but the large boy brushed him off, standing up on his own out of fear of his cousin and sheer stubbornness. 

The look Ed was giving him was equal parts righteous fury and apologetic embarrassment. Dudley cowed under the look, grabbing Harry’s arm to drag him away. 

“Come on, mum’ll be worried if we’re out too late.”

Harry snorted. Dudley never cared about his mum’s worries before now, but by saying that, it was a slight warning to the dangerous man that punched him that he had adults that would come for him. 

Ed nodded, “Your rude oaf of a cousin has a point, Harry. Best to get you two home. Especially so he can get some ice on that bruise.”

Harry looked, and there was indeed a bruise blossoming on Dudley’s left cheek. 

“I’ll walk you boys home. As apology for. . . overreacting.”

Dudley snorted, despite the circumstances, “‘You boys?’  You can’t be more than a year older than us.”

A vein throbbed on Ed’s temple, and the fifteen-year-old’s eyes widened in fear, taking a few steps back to protect himself. 

“I highly doubt that you are twenty-one, so I, therefore, must be more than a year older than you,” the blonde ground out through clenched teeth. 

Harry hid his surprise better than Dudley did, but it seemed Ed had managed to calm himself down. . . . 

“I’m not that short anymore, for Truth’s sake. I’ve got a whole five centimeters on Roy!”

. . . For the most part. 

“Anyway, let’s get you home.”

Thus settled, the alchemist grabbed his small suitcase off the bench, tossed his coat over his shoulder, and headed off, before stopping, sheepishly turning to ask the boys where they lived. 

Chapter Text

It took a little convincing, but eventually Dudley followed the two boys, maintaining a safe distance of course. No way was he getting near that gold-eyed freak again. Dudley has never seen a right hook that fast. 

The man in question simply glanced back to see that the large one was still following, before continuing his conversation with the slenderer of the two.

“Why so many?”

Harry had asked Ed about the rings and wrist bangles he wore.

”I’m used to having a lot of metal on hand, literally. Old habits die hard.”

They continued chatting, getting to know one another as they walked. Their laughter at Ed’s story of his bus mishap a few weeks prior died on their lips, however, as icy cold seeped into the alleyway they were traversing. 

‘Dementors.’

Harry knew this was bad. He couldn’t use magic in front of muggles, and worse, muggles couldn’t even see dementors. Neither of his companions would be able to escape, and Harry had no way to protect them. 

“H-Harry, w-whatever you’re doing, s-stop it!” Dudley yelped, his face white as a ghost. 

“You know I’m not allowed,” Harry growled out, hoping Dudley wouldn’t say any more in front of Ed, picking up the pace, all the while knowing it was useless to outrun dementors. 

Dudley’s eyes, already the size of dinner plates, somehow widened more as the alleyway was plunged into complete darkness. 

“H-he’s one of you, f-freaks, isn’t he?!” Dudley shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Ed, “That’s why he was so fast! W-whatever you’re doing, m-make it stop!”

When the light of the alley had been sapped, Ed had frozen, expecting Pride to seize him at any moment, only barely conscious of the fight between the two younger boys. He didn’t understand what they were talking about, but he knew one thing: they needed to get out of there.

Grabbing Dudley’s arm, he pulled the boy forward, “Harry, let’s go.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they jogged toward the end of the alleyway, only for it to get caught in his throat a second later. 

Blocking the end of the alley was Harry’s worst fear: a dementor. 

“THE HELL IS THAT THING?!”

Harry was distracted from pulling out his wand at Ed’s exclamation. To Harry’s surprise, his golden eyes were staring right at the dementor, clearly able to see it, despite being a muggle, like Harry assumed. 

Dudley clearly did not see them, as he tore off down the alleyway in the other direction to escape the supposed freaks, heading straight for a second dementor. 

‘Two of them?!’

Harry pulled out his wand, trying to pull a happy memory to mind as happiness was sucked from the alleyway. 

“Expecto Patronum!”

Silver vapor escaped his wand. 

Ed’s suitcase hit the pavement, his knees following. 

“M-mummy!”

“Expecto PATRONUM!”

Silver vapor again. To Harry’s amazement, it seemed to be enough to jolt Ed back to reality, as the man shakily got to one knee, before attempting to punch the black-cloaked figure where he assumed the face was. 

To Harry’s continued shock, the punch connected, sending the dementor flying. 

‘That’s new.’

The hit seemed to take more out of Ed than it did the dementor, however, as the man collapsed immediately, breathing ragged.

The punch reminded Harry of the time Hermione had sucker punched Malfoy, and his mind clung to it, pulling up more memories of his friends.

With one last great effort, he yelled, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A beautiful silver stag shot out of his wand, knocking back the dementor in his face, then chasing away the dementors that had focused on his new friend and cousin. Once the dementors were gone, he pulled himself to his feet shakily. ‘When did I even get on the ground?’  He wobbled over to Ed. ‘Good, still breathing and it’s erratic, so his soul is still there.’  He glanced over to see Dudley roll over, promptly vomiting all over the alley. ‘He’s fine then.’ 

“Dementors in Little Whinging! Where is that Mundungus?!”

“Duddy-kins!” Petunia shrieked, seeing her boy held up by Harry, his ghastly complexion striking a brilliant comparison to the bright purple bruise on his cheek. 

Vernon was roughly the color of an overripe eggplant. 

“WHAT THE BLAZES DID YOU DO TO OUR SON?!”

“I didn’t do anything to him! We were attacked!” Harry defended, letting Vernon and Petunia take the heavy boy from him so he could carry Ed inside easier, the man’s suitcase still in his hand. Harry was honestly impressed that he had made it all the way home without dropping anybody. 

Luckily, no one was paying attention to Harry, as they were too busy fussing over Dudley, so the Boy Who Lived hiked Ed higher on his back and dashed up the stairs to his bedroom. After depositing Ed on the bed and his suitcase on the floor, he dashed back downstairs to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for: chocolate chips. 

Tossing a handful at Dudley as he passed with a hurried explanation, he dashed back up the stairs, munching on a few morsels of his own. When he reached his room, Ed seemed to be starting to come around, if the loud groaning and twitching was anything to go by. 

“Keep it down, Ed. My aunt and uncle would throw you out if they knew you were up here.”

Ed groaned again, blinking a single eye open to glare at him. The dark-haired boy was a little impressed that the man could still be intimidating in this state. 

“Here, eat this, it’ll help,” he ordered, offering a handful of the chocolate chips. 

“What is it?” Ed asked, pulling himself up, scowling. 

Harry glanced at the package, “Semi-sweet chocolate morsels. They help, I promise.”

Assured that it wasn’t milk chocolate, Ed took the offered treat and relaxed as warmth seemed to fill him down to his core. He subconsciously rubbed his leg, massaging the aching port remnants as the chocolate worked its magic. Harry kept giving him handfuls, and Ed kept eating them in silence, grateful for the respite. After a few moments of silence and chocolate, however, Ed’s curiosity became more pressing than his well-being. 

“What were those things?”

Harry swallowed his own mouthful of happiness before answering. 

“Er, well, the thing is . . .”

“Spit it out, Harry. I know those things weren’t human,” Ed ordered softly. 

Harry gulped, afraid of getting in trouble for telling the muggle-he-had-done-magic-in-front-of about magical creatures.

“They’re dementors.”

Oh well. He was already in trouble for underage magic, the letters came while he was looking for the chocolate. At least Dumbledore wouldn’t let them take his wand. 

“What’s a dementor? How did it make everything dark and cold? How did it bring up those memories? What made them leave?” Ed fired question after question. 

Harry took a deep breath and began answering. 

Chapter Text

“Magic?” Ed asked, one skeptical eyebrow raised, an unimpressed frown tugging his lips, fiddling with the wand Harry had given him to inspect. 

A bone-weary sigh flew from the boy as he sagged, like a teddy bear without enough stuffing. 

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it at first either. I didn’t know I was a wizard until I was eleven. Didn’t know about my parents either.”

“Tell me more.”

So, Harry did. 

“Gross! His face was the back of his head? Blech!”

Harry shuddered. It was the most traumatic experience he had had at that point in his life, and it gave him nightmares up until a few months ago. His nightmares were a little worse now.

Edward chuckled darkly, “Just imagine. Every time Squirrel put his turban on, Moldywort got a face full of fabric.”

Harry had to giggle at that.

“Fred and George did bewitch snowballs to bounce off his turban that winter. I guess that means they hit Voldemort in the face loads of times.”

“Wait, a giant snake was slithering around the pipes for centuries, and no one noticed?”

“So, the rat was actually the man who betrayed your parents?” Harry nodded in response, “That’s awkward.”

“If you’re the supposed ‘Chosen One’,” Ed used air quotes to express his skepticism, “And you saw this dude make a body for himself, which we will be discussing later, then why would this Bumblebee guy leave you out of the loop?”

“I don’t know! That’s what’s so frustrating!” Harry growled out, not bothering to correct the name. It was entertaining when Ed got names wrong. Harry suspected he did it on purpose.

It was now late at night, a couple days later. Ed had been sneaking out before dawn, then hiding in Harry’s room to chat and sleep at night, but the Dursley’s were gone for some event thing, so the two boys were sitting in the living room, snacking on the foods Ed had purchased earlier that evening and enjoying the dark and quiet that was Number four without the Dursleys. 

“Tch. He sounds like Mustang, always trying to hide something from me. Thinks he’s protecting me or some- “

Harry glanced at his new friend to see what made him stop. He was stone-still, eyes narrowed in the direction of the kitchen, eyebrows drawn taut. 

“What- “

Harry’s whisper was cut off by Ed’s hand over his mouth. Then Harry heard it. 

There was someone in the kitchen. 

They clearly weren’t muggles, as they were questioning everything they came across. With the stealth of a cat, which was surprising in his combat boots, he crept to the doorway, motioning for Harry to stay where he was. Silently, they waited. 

The intruders walked through the living room, completely missing the man blending into the wall, and they wouldn’t have noticed Harry behind the couch if he hadn’t popped his head up, right as Ed struck. 

“Professor Lupin?!”

“Waaahggllg!”

“Harry!”

“Ed, stop!”

“Tonks!”

Ed paused, his captive in a choke hold, seeing the sticks pointed at him now that Harry had turned on the light. He turned to Harry. 

“So, they aren’t here to kill you?” he asked, loosening his grip on the woman in his arms so she could breathe again. 

“No, they aren’t Death Eaters.”

“Oh.”

The awkward tension in the air continued to grow as Ed held the woman, Tonks, if the shout earlier was anything to go by, as she caught her breath. Once he deemed her fit to stand on her own, he let go, stepping back, hands raised in a placating gesture. 

“Harry, your friends can put zeir schticks down now.”

Harry rushed to stand between Ed and the newcomers, hoping to avoid breaking anything with one of Ed’s fistfights. 

“Move, Harry!” Moody warned, his wand still trained on the man behind him. 

“Wait, you don’t understand, Ed’s just- “

“Harry,” Remus’s quiet voice cut through the building noise like a knife, “Who is this? Is he the muggle Mrs. Finch said was with you the other night?”

Harry glanced behind him at Ed to see his golden eyes were trained on the wands still pointed at him. The alchemist glanced back at Harry, urging him to answer. 

Harry took a deep breath. Ed was trusting him with this. He needed to make sure they understood. 

“This is Ed. Yes, he was with me the other night, but he could see the dementors, so he can’t be a muggle. And no, he’s not a Death Eater,” he added, expecting the next question, as he saw them exchange looks at that statement, “He’s had ample opportunity to off me and hasn’t.”

“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” 

Harry stared Remus straight in the eye and answered with a slight waver in his voice, “Prongs.”

Ed was thoroughly confused, but everyone seemed to relax a bit. Ed assumed it was part of Harry's story he hadn't heard yet.

“I don’t trust him,” Moody growled, not lowering his wand. 

“You don’t trust anyone,” Tonks rasped out, still massaging her sore neck. 

“Sorry about that,” Ed apologized, “Harry has some enemies, and we weren’t expecting friends to break in.”

“Why are you here?” Moody shot back, his mad eye swirling all over Ed. 

“Should I not be?” Ed shot back, an eyebrow raised. 

“We simply were not expecting you, Mr...” Lupin supplied, hoping to avoid an outright confrontation. 

“His name’s Ed. You would’ve known that if you read my letters,” Harry bit out, “I sent one to you, and I sent one to Sirius, but apparently you don’t read my letters anymore.”

Ed noted the way Lupin cringed away from the accusation, solidifying its validity. 

“Harry dear,” the one called Tonks said, “let’s go get you packed,” she offered a hand to lead him away like a child. 

Ed scoffed. He could see why Harry had been venting to him. They were treating him like he was two. 

“I’m not leaving Ed to you three,” Harry stated, eyes narrowed. 

The man in question nudged Harry from behind. Harry turned, questioningly. 

“Go on. If it gets you out of this house faster, I can handle myself,” Ed encouraged, “Pack up my suitcase while you’re at it, would you?”

Everyone in the room tensed. 

“He’s been staying with you, Harry?” Lupin asked, his expression unreadable. 

“Yes, because he’s a decent person who needed a roof over his head. I'm sure you can sympathize."

Harry stomped up the stairs with more than a little attitude. When Tonks had shut the door behind them, the three remaining aimed their wands back at Ed, though Moody had never let his drop. 

Ed raised his hands again, “I get it. You don’t trust me. After what Harry has told me, I don’t blame you. Feel free to ask whatever questions are needed to put your minds at ease, because I’m not leaving that boy alone.”

Everyone bristled at his last statement. 

“What is your name?” Lupin asked, starting the interrogation. 

Ed dropped his hands, shoving them in his pockets and leaning against the wall, “Major General Edward Elric, Fullmetal of Amestris, State Researcher and Ambassador. Don’t look at me, I didn’t come up with the name,” he answered flippantly, aware of the fact that he did just come up with the name, or at least, left some parts out.

Harry may trust them, but even Harry didn’t know about his alchemy yet. He had decided to keep his alchemy a secret after hearing about the philosopher's stone from Harry's first year.

The three newcomers shared skeptical looks. 

“Are you a werewolf?”

Ed couldn’t help it. He laughed. 

“Am I a what? Werewolf?” Ed’s eyes narrowed, “Wait, he called you Professor Lupin. You’re the one from two years ago, right? The one that helped out with the ratman?”

Lupin’s face confirmed his suspicions. 

“You’re a werewolf, right? Can werewolves sense each other like chimeras? How does the transformation work exactly? Is it only on the full moon, or can it be induced?” Ed paused, running theories through his head, wondering if there was a connection to his research on chimeras.

“You have yellow eyes,” the big, quiet one stated. Ed hadn't heard his name yet, not that he'd use it. 

Ed blinked.

“They’re gold, and what does that have to do with . . .” he trailed off as he studied Lupin’s eyes, “Ah, I see. Werewolves have yellow eyes, so you thought I was one because of my eyes. Well, got any silver or wolfsbane, or whatever else would prove my eyes are gold, not yellow?” Ed asked, not sure how to diffuse the situation. 

“He can’t be a werewolf,” Moody growled, “not with that leg and shoulder.”

Ed rolled his eyes at the questioning looks. With a hefty sigh, he pulled his left pant leg up to reveal the metal underneath his skin where his flesh had reattached over his automail port. 

“Woah.”

Chapter Text

“Ed? They didn’t kill you, did they?” Harry called sarcastically as he thumped down the stairs, Ed’s suitcase held tight in his hand. When he didn’t get a sarcastic answer back, just quiet murmuring from the living room, he got worried. Racing the rest of the way, he whipped around the corner to see the three all studying Edward’s left knee closely, as the owner of the leg explained how the port came to be imbedded in his knee, spinning the stray shrapnel story he had told so often even he believed it. Harry sighed in relief at seeing them relaxed, catching the attention of Shacklebolt. 

“Harry.”

Ed and the other two glanced up. Lupin quickly moved to block Ed’s knee from view, but Ed merely scoffed at the vain attempt to keep Harry from seeing it. Harry had noticed something off about the joint while Ed was recovering from the dementors. When he asked about it, Ed had reluctantly shown him the remains of the prosthetic. Harry thought it was the most badass thing he had ever seen. Clearly, Lupin agreed, to some extent. 

Harry shuffled in, handing the alchemist his suitcase once he had his pant leg back down.

“We didn’t bring an extra broom for Ed,” Lupin noted. 

“He’s coming with?” Tonks asked. 

“For now, and against my better judgment,” Moody answered. 

“At the very least, he can’t be polyjuiced, not with the shrapnel imbedded in that leg, and he’s no werewolf I’ve ever seen. Eyes are gold, not yellow.”

Ed rolled his eyes in the overly dramatic manner of one who is entirely done.

Lupin’s eyebrow rose. “Now, for the matter of the broom- “

“He can ride with me,” Harry interjected, eager to just be out of the godforsaken house. 

Moody huffed, then motioned for Harry to come to him, “Come here, boy. I need to disillusion you”

“You need to what?” asked Harry nervously.

“Disillusionment Charm,” Moody replied, raising his wand, “Lupin says you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won’t stay on while we’re flying; this’ll disguise you better. Here you go.”

He rapped Harry hard on the top of his head, and Harry had to repress a shiver. Cold trickles dripped down from where he had been tapped, like Moody had smashed a raw egg over his head.

“Nice one, Mad-Eye,” the bubblegum-haired witch praised.

Ed didn’t see what was so nice, however, because nothing seemed to happen. He could feel a thin layer of energy covering Harry like a second skin when he hopped behind him on his broom, as his work with alchemy and passes through the Gate gave him a bit of a sixth sense where energy was concerned. He shrugged, brushing it off. The charm clearly did what it was supposed to, since everyone seemed to agree with Bubblegum.

With that settled, they soared off into the night, Ed hanging on for dear life. 

Harry was clearly eager to be in the air, but Ed kept a tight hold. He had never flown like this before, and he was pretty sure he didn't like it, but at least Harry kept the fancy flying to a minimum. The grumpy one, Mad Moody, or whatever his name was, had them flying in circles and doubling back at least nine times. Finally, they started their decent.

When they landed, Ed glanced around. They were in a simple neighborhood, houses all around, although one of them was clearly different. While the others were all in acceptable condition, number 12, according to the old number by the door, had clearly been let go. Ed knew this house was their destination because the whole building thrummed with energy.

The crazy escort, Moody, shoved a piece of paper at the two boys. 

“Read it. Memorize it.”

Harry and Ed both looked at it. 

‘The Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.’

Ed quirked an eyebrow. ‘What a pompous name.’

He was a little confused, however, when Moody snagged the paper back, setting it alight. He also didn’t understand Harry’s amazement after Lupin told him to think about the words. The boy was gawking at Number 12, like it had popped a second head out of the ground. 

Or something. He hadn’t quite mastered figures of speech yet. 

“What are you staring at? Was something supposed to happen?” he asked, voicing his concern. 

Their escorts exchanged glances. If he couldn’t see Number 12, then he was definitely a muggle. 

“What do you think I’m staring at?! Number 12 just popped out of the ground!”

Harry let out an indignant squawk when Moody whacked him over the head. 

“Not out here!” He hissed again. 

Ed’s eyebrow quirked back up. 

“What do you mean Number 12 popped out of the ground?” Ed asked, wondering if the boy was okay. 

The members of the Order glanced at each other again. How were they going to explain to Dumbledore that they couldn’t bring the guy inside?

“You do realize it has been sitting there since we got here, right?”  Everyone stared at him, wide-eyed, “Are you guys dense, or just horribly unobservant?”

Before anyone could question him further, Moody shoved them forward, “Get inside! We’ve been out here too long already!”

When they entered the house, a woman with bright red, curly hair grabbed Harry into a bone crushing hug. Ed smiled at the motherly woman. She reminded him of Gracia, if the soft-spoken young widow was a little less soft-spoken, a little older, and had a head of red curls. Basically, they were both motherly, and that was it.

The woman, Molly Weasley, he was told, ushered them both in, sending them upstairs after a quick word with their escorts.

Harry and Ed stomped up the stairs, Harry eager to see his friends and finally get some answers, and Ed lost in thought.

He had been willing to accept magic because he had seen some Ishvalan magicians with the refugees he had helped, but this magic was on such a bigger scale. He couldn’t wait to study it. Perhaps magic could be the key to finding a cure for the chimeras back home.

Chapter Text

Before introductions could be made between the redheaded teen in their room and the blonde, there was a loud bang from downstairs. 

“WHAT?! AND YOU JUST LEFT THEM ALONE?! HARRY!!”

The teenagers all cringed as they recognized the sound of Sirius on a protective rampage. Ed just stood in their midst, flummoxed. He thought he was deemed okay? If he were honest, he really just wanted to sleep. Somehow, he had gotten himself dragged into a magical hideaway from an old power-hungry dark wizard with a bunch of other wizards that were trying to defeat him. If he wasn’t living it, he’d laugh at the story. 

With a bang, Sirius announced his entrance into the room, the door nearly breaking off its hinges. Instinctively, Ed moved between Harry and the intruder, but Harry assured him the intruder was again friendly when he ran out from behind him. 

“Sirius, I’m fine! Calm down, before you break something!”

Sirius quickly swept Harry behind him, ignoring the protests of the boy, to his growing ire. 

Clearly, this man would be difficult to appease. 

Feeling like he had been in this position far too often tonight for his liking, Ed raised his hands, showing that he was unarmed, “There’s no need for ze sticks, or raised voices. You lot are givink me a headache,” Ed growled, annoyed.

Sirius scowled, distrust deeply rooted for good reason, “Where are you from, kid? You’ve got a little accent there.”

Harry facepalmed. He had learned very quickly not to mention any word about size or age while around an agitated or nervous Ed, as normally, he could just barely keep his temper under control when his size was mentioned. Unfortunately, no one else had. 

“WHO ARE JOO CALLING A TINY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK!?!”

Startled, Sirius fired off a spell, but the alchemist dodged it easily, running up to land a blow to Sirius’ stomach, but Harry managed to pull Sirius back before it connected. 

“ED! KNOCK IT OFF, YA MIDGET!”  Harry yelled, hoping to divert his short rage away from Sirius. 

Ed stopped, frozen, his fists still clenched, staring at Harry. 

“Did you just call me a...  a midget?” Ed asked, shock and betrayal evident on his features.

Harry whacked him on the head with his wand, and he flinched. 

“Yes, I did. Don’t make me do it again.”

Ed fumed, but relented, sulking in the corner. 

“What just happened?” Ron asked from his spot safely on the other side of the room. 

“Don’t mention his size or age, and he won’t flip out on you,” Harry warned. 

“How old is he? Sixteen?” asked Ron, the tactful. 

“I’m twenty-two, damnit!”

After he was fully assured of Harry’s safety, Sirius stomped back down to the meeting. 

“Gee, glad to know he cares about me too,” Ron grumbled, a little irked to have been ignored and then yelled at. 

“Shut it, Carrots,” Ed growled, equally irked.

Harry shot Ed a glare before flopping onto his bed, claiming the one on the far left. Ed shrugged, plopping his suitcase at the foot of the middle one before flopping on it himself.

He huffed when he felt Hedwig’s talons land on his back. Animals just didn’t like him. 

“Hedwig!”

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, “We really are sorry for keeping you in the dark, mate.”

Harry’s smile at seeing Hedwig dropped back into a frown at the reminder of his anger, but before he could say anything, Hermione burst into the room. 

“Harry!” the girl gushed. Ed cringed at the volume, his headache back in full force. “I’m so glad to see you! It was awful not being able to talk about anything, really.”

Before Harry could respond, there were two loud cracks and the room suddenly had two more people in it.

“Hiya, Har-hlgk!”

Faster than a cobra striking, Ed had an arm around each neck, yanking the two lanky boys to their knees. 

“Ed, they’re friends too!” Harry yelled. 

Ed dropped them with a huff, “Should I just assume everyone sneaking up on you is just a friend?” he asked as the Weasley twins coughed and gagged on the floor.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, that’s best. If I start yelling, ‘No, get away!’, then you can pounce all you want.”

Ed huffed again, “Spoiling all my fun.”

“Wh-who are you?” one of the twins gasped out, the other still coughing from his brief choking. 

“Ed.”

“Enlightening.”

“Watch it, brat,” Ed warned. 

“Brat?” the second twin asked, finally over his coughing, “We’re older than all you lot.”

“Don’t count on it,” Harry muttered, ignoring the short rant Ed was lost in, banging the twins over the head with his fists. 

The ruckus died down with a sharp rap at the door. 

“Harry? They want Ed downstairs. They’ve got a few more questions for him,” came the soft voice of Remus Lupin. 

Ed groaned, tired of all the attention and honestly just wanting to sleep. He was really regretting the late nights reading Harry's schoolbooks after Harry fell asleep. Nevertheless, he padded over to the door and followed the man down the stairs.

He chuckled when he heard the one introduced as Ron yell, “He’s bloody terrifying, Harry!”

Ed was instantly on high alert when he walked into the room. He recognized most of the faces, but the person who caught his eye, he did not know.

The man reminded him far too much of Bradley.

There was an air of power that radiated from the white-haired man, and the twinkle in his eye was too similar to the ultimate eye for Ed’s liking. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, like he had walked into a room with a homunculus, the energy from all those souls pulsing in the air.

Several eyebrows rose at his hesitation to enter the room and obvious discomfort at Dumbledore’s presence. 

‘Perhaps the boy is not as innocent as they thought if he fears me.’

“Is that you, Envy?” Ed asked in Xerxesian. 

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. He was fluent in forty-seven different languages, but he had never heard one quite like that one before. Just who was this boy?

“What language was that, child?” the old wizard asked. 

Sirius jumped, ready to intervene if the boy started another short rant, but he didn’t move a muscle, still refusing to walk through the door. 

Ed’s eyes narrowed, “Envy, I don’t know how you got here, but I swear to truth, I am going to rip every soul from your stone one at a time.”

The old man blinked. He didn’t know what was said, but it sounded threatening. 

Ed’s eyes glinted, “At least this old fart looks far better than your real face.”

When Ed didn’t receive a scowl, signature smirk, or even a twitch in response, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. 

“Sorry, I needed to make sure you weren’t someone else. He definitely would have snapped at that last one,” Ed’s eyes remained narrowed, however, “You’re Bumblebore, right?”  Lupin hid a snicker behind him, the sudden change in atmosphere cracking his usual façade.

“I don’t trust you. Thought I’d get that out of the way first. You’ve got way too much energy for a normal person. What are you?” Ed’s eyes narrowed even more if that were possible. 

Dumbledore cracked a smile, “I am merely an old, badgering coot.”

Ed smirked at that, finally moving into the room and taking a seat at the table. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute, but it’s funny, so I’ll let it slide for now.”

When Ed slid into his seat, everyone in the room that had been held in a kind of stupor watching the two geniuses square off snapped back to reality. 

“I don’t like him. Arrogant, cocky, rash. We have enough of his type here in the adults,” The speaker shot a glance Sirius’ direction. The dog animagus stuck his tongue out at the potions master, “We don’t need to add a child to the mix.”

Ed glared at the greasy haired man who spoke. He looked like the type to be a quadruple spy or something equally confusing and ridiculous. He had an air of someone who played for the team that was in front of him at the time, never revealing where his true loyalties lie.

Ed had seen that look in Mustang’s eye too much not to recognize it. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Greasy, but I don’t even know what ‘here’ is. I’m guessing a secret organization with the sole purpose of taking down old Moldywort, but that’s just a guess.”

Down the table, Sirius was busting a gut trying to hold in his laughter. 

“You are correct, Edward,” Dumbledore replied, before Snape could lash out, “And we would like to know what your part is in this, being a friend of Harry’s. I’m also interested to know how you saw Number 12 without having been told by the Secret Keeper.”

Ed did not trust that twinkle in his eye. Every time his eyes twinkled, Ed’s headache pounded harder. 

“Look, I vas only vith Harry because he is a good kid and an interesting von at that. I have mien own plans, and how vas ze house not zere? Vhy could Harry not zee it?”

The pounding headache was getting to be overwhelming, his accent slipping a bit. 

“What are those plans?” a quiet voice with stifling power asked. 

Ed tried to form a response, but as soon as he locked eyes with Dumbledore, pain erupted behind his eyes as image after image flashed through his mind. An old man, an old friend dueling with him over the Elder wand, Riddle in his office, asking for the DADA position, James’ last conversation with him, when he left the cloak, placing Harry at his aunt’s door, running to an unconscious Harry, praying he wasn’t too late, examining the diary, thinking, pondering, watching Harry and Hermione run up to him as he locked the door to the medical wing, pulling Harry away from the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory, his argument with Fudge over the return of Voldemort, colors, sounds, flashes, light, then he was back. 

He lay on the floor, panting, trying to get his bearings, realizing belatedly that those infernal sticks were pointed at him again.

“Vha... vhat just happened?” he asked, still gasping for air.

Sirius growled, “That’s what we want to know.”

“Relax, Sirius,” came a faint voice from the other side of the room.

Ed slowly sat up to see that the white-bearded man was also on the floor, with Mr. Greasy by his side. Realization spread across Ed’s face, anger swiftly following.

“Just what the hell, old man, gives you the right to go poking around in my head? Vhat vas so important that joo had to poke around my head vizout my permission?!”

“My apologies, Edward, I merely needed to confirm that you were speaking the truth.”

Ed growled, deep in his throat, “And did joo find vhat joo vere looking for, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?” he bit out, careful to pronounce the name properly.

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“It seems you found far more than I.”

Ed huffed, shaking off those futilely attempting to keep him down. He stood, walking to the other side of the table so the man could see him glaring.

“Do not dare to enter my mind again. I cannot guarantee that you would survive it.”

With that warning, he turned on his heel, his red coat whipping around, showing off the flamel on the back, before stomping away, back up the stairs.

Dumbledore’s wide eyes followed the symbol until it was no longer in sight.

Chapter Text

“Zat bastard!” Ed growled angerly, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, worried. She didn’t know the man well, but he was clearly very upset.

“Zat Headmaster of yours just tried rummaging through my head. Unfortunately for him, Truth doesn’t let anyone see the Gate without paying the toll.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, seeing how shaken up he was. He didn’t speak in his native language often, but he had been doing it a lot tonight.

Ed’s shoulder’s sagged, “I am fine, the Headmaster vas forcefully zrown out of my mind before he could even do anyzink, and before joo ask, I had nozink to do viz it, it just happened,” he sighed, “I ended up seeink some of his memories and zoughts, but nozink substantial, just little zinks.”

With a mighty thump, he let gravity do its thing as he slid down the wall he was leaning on, landing on the floor, hard. Harry noticed then how run down and tired the man looked. Glancing at his watch, Harry realized it was nearly dawn.

“How about we hit the hay and talk more tomorrow?” Harry suggested.

The group of teens plus one adult all nodded absentmindedly. Ron turned around and happily flopped face-first onto his mattress, soft snores slowly forcing their way into open air. The girls and the twins both left to their own rooms, and Harry helped lug Ed to his feet, so he could make it to his bed. Taking a page out of Ron’s book, the young man flopped onto his bed as well. Harry followed suit, much more gently than his two friends.

As the Boy Who Lived lay staring at the ceiling, his upcoming hearing started prancing around his mind, taunting him. What was he supposed to do now?

The next day found everyone cleaning.

Now, Edward was no stranger to cleaning, but cleaning without alchemy? Boring.

At least the magical, blue bug-people made it interesting.

While cleaning, Ed discovered the library, but he was scolded when he tried to skirt off to read, by Hermione of all people. Ed didn’t much care for the bookworm. He was always something of a loner because of his intelligence and spitfire personality, but intelligent people could usually get a good conversation going. Unfortunately, Ed learned very quickly after being stuck in a room cleaning with the girl that she was a talkative know-it-all, the worst kind of intelligent.

Don’t get Ed wrong, he didn’t mind that she was a know-it-all, but she had an opinion on everything and shared it, repeatedly.

His patience was wearing thin. There was only so much he could hear “S.P.E.W.” before he did it himself.

Luckily, he was with the twins for the next room, and the blue bug-people, doxies they called them, were easier to handle with the capable twins helping out.

He really wanted to transmute the stuffing out of those pests though. By pests, he meant the twins. Because of them, dinner that night was a little awkward.

Once again proving that they could do magic outside the school now, the twins had sent dinner soaring through the air to land, mostly, on the table. The bread knife, however, landed in the exact place Ed’s hand had been half a second prior.

Molly promptly flipped her lid, yelling herself hoarse at the twins, while Ed inspected the trembling knife.

‘Good thing I have quick reflexes.’

With a tug, the knife easily slipped from the table, but once it was free, it zipped from Ed’s hand, heading straight for his head. Instinctively, Ed dodged to the side, knocking the knife out of the air, the bangles on his wrist tinging in the silence.

“I told you, Harry,” Ed said, a grin on his face, “Old habits die hard.”

The room quieted at that, everyone awkwardly shuffling around him the rest of the night.

Not like he cared. He was used to it. They were still pests.

For the most part, the adults were treating him like the other kids. He knew they still talked about him where he couldn’t hear, because those wonderful inventions of the twins’ allowed for flawless eavesdropping. Unfortunately, the adults somehow found out, and took measures to ensure that their secret meetings would not be overheard anymore. Fortunately, for Ed at least, he could still hear the conversations from the library, as he had rearranged some pipes with his alchemy to funnel sound from the kitchen up to his corner he had staked out of the library.

He chose not to share his eavesdropping with the others, because, so far, he had successfully kept his alchemy a secret. He didn’t want to lose his ace-in-the-hole so soon, especially around powerful wizards. He had found an old book on alchemy in the Blacks’ library, but its contents had him wishing to hide his talents even more than Harry's recap of his first year in the wizarding world. According to the book, the main goal of alchemy was turning lead into gold and making Philosopher’s stones so that you could live forever, both of which were taboo, and for good reason. Ed just hoped this was only one view on alchemy, and not how the whole wizarding world saw the science. The book mentioned the man who had successfully created the stone from Harry's story, Nicholas Flamel, who had recently turned six hundred sixty-five.

It made him sick.

How could someone live that long by using other lives? Was the creation of his stone accidental, like his father’s?

How common were accidental Philosopher’s stones?

Resolved not to be exploited for his skill and knowledge, Ed hid his alchemy, at least until he could no longer.

He still read every book he could get his hands on. Apparently, he had to be careful what books he picked up here, though, because some were cursed. He had opened one once that started screaming at him.

He searched through history books, hoping to find something about Xeno, but he could find nothing. Finally, after about four days searching between cleaning, he found something in a book of ancient legends.

A legend of a lost land of golden people, who were capable of many technological wonders. It was said that the thunderbird was from this ancient land, before it migrated to the American plains, and that a thunderbird, if you correctly answered a riddle, would fly you back to its homeland to become a golden being, but if you answered incorrectly, the bird would steal your soul.

‘What a load of bull. It’s just our eye and hair color. We aren’t actually gold. And what’s this nonsense about thunderbirds? I’ve never seen a thunderbird in Amestris. Harry's creature book said they're native to the American desert.’

His notebook was getting fuller and fuller. He had his alchemy notes, his notes on magic and the theories behind it, as well as a copy of Marcoh’s notes, as he had destroyed the copy Sheska made. He didn’t want those secrets falling into the wrong hands, and only he and Al could read his notebook. Not because he didn’t let anyone, no, because his notes were coded, just like every other alchemist. His code? A Xerxesian travel log. No one still alive besides the brothers could read the language, and they had every surviving word from the ancient ruins they had uncovered. It was the language their father’s books were in, the language he spoke to them when they were little, the first language they spoke, and their secret.

Ed sighed. This train of thought was getting depressing. He and Al were the only two left of their once great people.

Yup, depressing.

His train of thought was interrupted when Sirius spoke.

“There you are.”

Ed glanced up from his notebook to see the escaped criminal leaning against a bookcase. Harry had told him his godfather’s story, at least a little, so Ed understood why the man was so jumpy, but Ed was still a little wary. Their first meeting had been awkward. He also called Ed short, and Ed held grudges.

“I was hoping I’d find you here. Hermione said you like reading almost as much as she does,” Sirius chuckled.

Ed glanced down at the books he had laying open and spread around him. “I’ll put them away. I just like this chair and didn’t want to get back up.” Ed explained, rising from his seat and grabbing a stack of books to put away.

“Not a problem. Don’t worry about it. My brother was the same way, always in here, books everywhere,” Sirius’ eyes were fond as he spoke of Regulus, “That was his favorite chair, too, you know.”

Ed nodded absently, sliding another book onto the shelf. ‘I don’t understand. I thought he hated me?’

“My little brother reads as much as I do. We would spend hours laying on the floor in my father’s study reading together.” He ventured, unsure if he wanted to share that much information. The mood seemed right, somehow.

“Sounds nice,” Sirius remarked quietly, picking up a book from the stack to be put back and fingering the binding absentmindedly.

Ed decided not to explain that the books they were reading were to help them revive their mother, and the father whose study they invaded had abandoned them at a young age. That would ruin the nice mood he had going.

‘Look at that, Führer Bastard, I can diplomacy, too!’

Setting the book back on the stack, Sirius turned to Ed. A serious look on his face, he blurted, “Let’s start over.”

Ed blinked. “What?”

Sirius resisted to urge to bash his head against a bookcase. He was never very good at apologies, but twelve years in Azkaban certainly didn’t help.

“I would like to apologize for my actions when we met. I was not very, uh, kind.” He muttered, looking everywhere but at Ed, fidgeting nervously.

Ed just brushed it off.

“It’s fine. I nearly dislocated Tonks’ arm when we met.”

Sirius stared.

“Well, I didn’t mean to, er, I did, but I didn’t,” he tried explaining, “I mean, I didn’t know her, and they were breaking into the house, so I thought they were the guys after Harry, so I attacked first and asked questions later. I do that a lot,” Ed sighed. He should probably not do that if he was going to prove to Mustang that he could be diplomatic, too. “Anyway, point is, I was an unknown close to someone you care about. Makes sense to be wary.”

Sirius nodded. “I suppose. Thanks for giving me a second chance. Harry was a little mad at me.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Harry’s a little mad at everyone.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “That’s true enough. I was a little worried he would punch someone when he got here.”

Ed grinned. He just might like this Sirius guy after all.

After a lengthy discussion with Sirius about the contents of the library, Ed eventually found himself buried in books again. He was awakened from his book-induced trance by the smell of food wafting into the room and enticing his stomach to complain. Glancing at his pocket watch, his eyes widened at how late it had gotten. He had spent the whole day in the library again. Dutifully replacing every book he had unearthed from the shelves, he dusted himself off, tucked his notebook into his pocket, and headed downstairs to get food. His journey was interrupted when he heard quiet sobbing and whimpers from around the corner.

Gingerly, he padded around the corner towards the sound, seeing Harry standing frozen in a doorway a few meters down the hall. 

“Harry, what- “

His question was cut off when he saw Ron bloodied on the floor, the sticky, red liquid pooling beneath him. 

“CARROTS!”

Ed shoved past Harry to kneel in front of the prone boy, but before he could reach him to see the extent of the damage, there was a loud crack, and the body in front of him vanished, replaced by a sight he never wanted to see again. 

“... Big... brother?”

Ed couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he could only stare at the mutilated girl in front of him. 

“N-Nina?” he stuttered, eyes wide in horror, his limbs unresponsive.

“Big... brother... Ed...”

A sob wracked his frame, his sorrow and guilt too much to contain. Unbidden tears streaked down his face. 

“I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Play... with... me?”

“R-ridikulus!” came a shaky female voice to Ed's left, but he didn't bother to see who it was, too distracted by the horror he was too late to stop and too human to fix. What if the same thing happened to Elicia? What if one of the bastards Hughes put away during his time in investigations came after his family for revenge? What if someone came after Winry for revenge on Ed? The thought alone sent icy dread coursing through his veins.

At the spell, the boggart shifted with a crack, and everyone wished it hadn’t.

Where the creature before had been sad and in pain, the mess of rotten flesh and blood on the floor now made Harry want to puke.

“…b… bruh… broth… ther…”

Ed gagged, the coppery tang of blood filling the air. Horror filled him as a misshapen, gnarled hand flopped towards him, smacking the ground with a dull thud. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide, a shaking hand covering his mouth, whether to keep the stench of rotting flesh at bay or to keep the contents of his stomach down, he wasn’t conscious enough to say. He was vaguely aware of the tears racing each other down his cheeks as the creature flopped out to the floor, its mangled body wheezing. His brother's soul was inside that thing! How did it even get here? What happened that Al performed human transmutation again? Oh Truth, what if someone came after Winry while he was gone traveling and Al tried to fix her? He felt faint. There was ice in his blood. His knees were weak. He couldn't breathe right. The room was spinning and his vision was fuzzy around the edges.

Like a marionette with its strings cut, he crumpled, his knees hitting the floor with a dull clank that sent darts of pain up his thigh that he barely registered. There were garbled noises around him, but they were coming from a long way away. Someone might be yelling his name, he wasn't sure, but he didn't care. He couldn't take his eyes off the bleeding lump of human flesh in front of him.

"Ridikulus!”

The shout jarred Ed back to reality for a moment. Other than a slight shiver, the mess on the floor showed no signs of being affected by whatever spell was cast.

“Harry, get him out of here!” he heard someone yell from underwater.

Harry must have obeyed, because he felt pressure under his arms dragging him away. He didn't have the strength to resist or help. He wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore. He didn't remember what it felt like to breathe.

"Ridikulus!" The horror vanished in another crack, replaced with a white orb that vanished in smoke.

“E-Ed?” he barely heard Harry ask.

There was worry lacing his tone. Ed should respond, but he couldn't. He was frozen, unbridled horror holding him in place, staring at the spot on the floor where the mutilated body had disappeared.

Harry knelt on the floor in front of him, hoping to snap him out of his shock. 

“Ed, look at me. It wasn’t real. It was a boggart. They show your worst fear. It wasn’t real.”

Slowly, Ed looked up, and Harry saw the tears that had been flowing freely from wide eyes down the young man’s cheeks. 

Ed started speaking, rushed and broken in his native language, shaking his head frantically. Harry didn’t understand what he was babbling, but he knew the boy was distraught and in shock, so he pulled the blonde into a hug, rubbing his back comfortingly, just like Mrs. Weasley did whenever he had a nightmare while staying at the Burrow. 

“It’s okay. It’s over. The monster’s gone.”

Ed flinched under him, and Harry hoped that meant he was snapping out of it. The golden-eyed man pushed him away, wiping his tears as he stood. 

“Vat vas zat?” he asked, his voice still shaky and quiet, accent slipping in his state.

Harry glanced at Remus, still comforting a sobbing Molly. 

“A boggart. It shows you your greatest fear.”

Ed nodded in understanding, remembering reading something about them in one of the books he had glanced through. His face hardening with his resolve, he wiped away his tears and marched the few steps over to the two adults before kneeling, softer this time, but still with an audible thunk that had Harry and Remus wincing.

Gently, he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, silently coaxing her to look up at him. He offered her a soft, sad smile when she did. 

“I know what it’s like. Trying to protect everyone you love, but unable to know for sure if they would live to see the next day.”

Molly whimpered in response. 

Ed’s faux smile dropped, as his expression turned grimly serious, “I swear to you, Molly Weasley, I will do everything in my power to help. I will not let this madman murder your family.”

He said it with such conviction and determination that Molly was strangely comforted by the foreign young man that somehow had magic yet didn’t. His declaration reminded her of all the others that fought to protect her family and her world. With a shaky smile, she nodded in thanks. 

Satisfied, Ed got to his feet and strode purposefully from the room, followed quickly by Harry. He pushed past the growing audience crowded at the door, sweeping back down the hall, his red coat billowing behind him. No one dared follow him.

“Ed!”

No one but Harry dared follow him. His pace slowed as he waited for Harry to catch up. 

“What were those things?”

Ed sighed. He was expecting a question like that, but it didn’t make it easier to talk about. He didn’t want to lie to Harry, his first friend in this new country.

“They were...  someone precious... I lost.”

“What happened to them?” Harry ventured, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He quickly added, realizing he was being rather insensitive.

Ed shook his head. He needed to get this off his chest. Al was always telling him not to bottle stuff like this up.

“They were both destroyed with alchemy, and I couldn’t save them.”

His throat tight, Ed turned away before Harry could ask any more, heading back up the hall. 

The house was quiet and somber that night. Everyone who had not seen the event with the boggart had heard about it by this point. No one wanted to mention it to Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had ensured no one asked Ed about it, for which he was grateful. 

Unfortunately, the quiet led to Harry contemplating his hearing the next morning, his conversation with Ed forgotten.

Chapter Text

Harry awoke early, dreading the day. Today was the day they decided whether he stayed at Hogwarts or not. What would he do if he was expelled? They would snap his wand. How would he defend himself from Voldemort then?

A cloud of depression followed Harry as he padded down the stairs, careful not to wake the painting in the hallway. The last thing he needed was waking Ed and starting another screaming match with the infamous Mrs. Black. The last one still had his ears ringing a bit.

To his surprise, he found he wasn’t the only one awake when he reached the kitchen. 

“‘Morning, Bedhead,” Ed grinned. 

Harry blinked. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice Ed’s bed was empty?

Apparently. 

“‘Morning.” 

His voice sounded strained and hollow, even to his own ears. Ed frowned. 

“Oh, don’t twist your knickers. You know they won’t expel you.”

Harry smiled a little at the botched saying. 

“What makes you so sure?” he shot back, relaxing a little into the familiar banter. 

Ed scoffed, “‘Cause they’d be stupid to. I’ll be there, after Bumblebee takes me to some mystery place to try and figure out the anomaly that is me,” a low chuckle escaped the man, accompanied by a dark look, “if he can.”

Harry liked Ed well enough, but sometimes the older boy scared him. Now was one of those times. Ed had a positively devious smirk on his face. 

“Now now, enough talking and eat your breakfast,” Mrs. Weasley admonished. 

Ed obliged, but Harry could barely swallow through his nerves, much less eat, so the Boy Who Lived became the Boy Who Stared Forlornly at His Plate that morning. 

Harry left with Arthur moments before Dumbledore arrived to pick up Ed. 

“You know, old man, you should probably tell Harry why you’re avoiding him. He’s getting pissed.”

Dumbledore stared down at the young man in front of him, before quickly averting his gaze. Ed scoffed.

’The idiot. He clearly doesn’t want a repeat experience. Wonder what he saw?’

Ed was determined to never take an arm again. That apparating trick was convenient, but definitely not okay with his port remnants, and he followed after Dumbledore with a decided limp. They swept down hallways in the vast building, up stairs and down stairs until Ed lost all sense of direction.

Honestly, he wasn’t paying attention to where they were going, too busy looking around at all the wonders to bother. 

He asked questions of a few things, the flying paper, the outfits, the windows, the outfits, the random three meter-long lizard, and the outfits. 

Did he mention everyone was wearing a dress?

Dumbledore answered his questions with a knowing smile that was really starting to get on Ed’s nerves.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door in the middle of a hallway. With a quick glance at Ed, Dumbledore grasped the handle, opening the door to the Department of Mysteries.

Ed just stared around in awe at all the fascinating things around him, Dumbledore expertly navigating the rooms after poking his head through a number of doors and then slamming them shut without a moment's hesitation. The rooms that Dumbledore ignored were a room with a vat of what looked suspiciously like brains, a room full of clocks, a room full of dancing lizards, and a room with a stage and an arch. Ed was thankful that Dumbledore didn't lead him into the arch room, because the air was heavy and reminded him a little bit of his time in Gluttony's stomach. When Dumbledore finally stopped opening doors, Ed was a little disappointed to see that they were walking into an office. 

Not a cool, magical office, but a boring, one-desk-one-occupant-nothing-else-at-all kind of office. It reminded him of Roy’s new führer office.

Basically, after everything he had seen, Ed was less than impressed. 

“Hello, Mr. Monkstanley,” Dumbledore greeted the man behind the desk. 

He was older, but not as old as Dumbledore. A little more than middle-aged, but less than elderly, he had short, dark hair with a little grey peppered in and tufts poking up on either side of his head. His large spectacles, coupled with his hair, made him seem a little owlish. 

“Dumbledore,” he replied, and Ed was a little surprised at the deepness of his voice. It was deeper than Major Armstrong’s, if that were possible. “I take it this is the boy in question.”

Dumbledore nodded in response. 

“Very well,” Monkstanley stated gruffly, “Let us get on with it.” The man pulled a cloak covered in pink lizards around his shoulders and gestured for Dumbledore and his unique guest to follow him.

Ed glanced between the two as they headed out the door before reluctantly following. ‘Are all adult wizards bonkers?’

Ed followed them into a large room with shelves higher than the Wall of Briggs, filled with rows upon rows of bright blue balls that seemed to glow and twirl in their own right. 

Ed glanced around in wonder, still not sure what he was seeing. Each ball had a small plaque underneath, so he read one. Lacerta the Lizard Queen.

“Edward.”

His attention back on the two men and away from the bizarre title, he strode over to the shelf they stood in front of. With a nod from Dumbledore, Ed glanced at the ball in front of them, and did a double take at the name underneath it. A little plaque on the shelf read “Golden Thunderbird? And Truth”. 

Dumbledore had heard that Ed was from a place called Amestris, and according to his friend Nicholas, Amestris was a country in the legendary Isle of Xeno. He hoped that the golden thunderbird was referring to Ed, because the Truth that haunted him ever since attempting Legilimency with Ed was definitely the Truth in the prophecy, if the voice he heard could be trusted.

With a hesitant glance at Dumbledore, Ed reached up and grabbed the ball, lifting it easily from its rest. Monkstanley muttered a few words, waving his personalized stick around before the ball began to speak in a strained, choked voice, “The golden thunderbird brings destruction in his wake, forging forth to right the wrongs. The Gate is opened, Father beaten, body restored, and debt paid. Only when the Thunderbird has destroyed the snake's shattered soul, will Truth be appeased.”

The blonde stood rooted to the spot, his expression blank. Suddenly, without warning, he snapped, shouting in a language his audience knew not. 

“Damnit, Truth! Is this all I get?! This is my ‘other quest’, right?! Give me something more than a talking, glowing ball, you bastard! If you lay one finger on Al, you’re toast, you hear me?!”

Valiantly ignoring the memory of the boggart from the night before, Ed paled as a mad cackle came from the orb in his hands, ‘Oh really, Mr. Alchemist? You and what toaster?’

Recoiling, Ed dropped the orb like it burned him. Only Dumbledore’s inhuman reflexes saved it before it hit the ground, where it would have broken into a pile of glass and magic. Cautiously handing the orb back to the young blonde, the wizened wizard raised an eyebrow in question.

Ed fidgeted, avoiding eye contact. Dumbledore became more suspicious.

“What had you so startled, Edward?”

Ed glanced up at Dumbledore before staring down at the glowing ball in his hands, a scowl slowly creeping up on his face, “You didn’t hear him, then?” he asked, chancing a glance back at Dumbledore.

To Ed’s irritation, the man shook his head.

Ed huffed, “Well, I heard another voice, and he responded to what I said, in Amestrian.”

“That has never happened before. No prophecy has ever been recorded with two voices, much less a voice that responds.”  Monkstanley sounded worried, a fearful waver that didn’t fit his deep voice flitting about his words.

Ed glanced up to see both men staring at him intently, clearly wanting an explanation. He sighed. ‘Why me?’

“I don’t know about the first voice, but the second was Truth, or God, if you will. He’s a dirty, rotten bastard, but you can’t beat him, he’s the gatekeeper of Equivalent Exchange itself,” he dragged his hand down his face in exasperation, “Anyone know this snake guy the bastard wants dead?” he asked. 

“Who-know-who?” Monkstanley asked fear fully evident in his words now, despite the depth of his voice. 

“No, I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?”

“Calm yourself, Edward,” Dumbledore soothed, finally shaking himself out of the funk the prophecy and Ed’s words induced. He held out a hand and Ed obediently dropped the prophecy in it. Studying the orb, he explained, “He is referring to Voldemort. Most do not speak his name.”

Ed’s eyes widened. He supposed that made sense. Mr. Moldy splits his soul, he stays alive, comes back, effectively unkillable. He frowned. This was going to be tricky. If he was dealing with souls, did Truth expect him to perform human transmutation again? No way, he learned his lesson. Never again. He had already seen the gate four times, ingesting information of the world each time, that was how he knew other continents still existed beyond the sea. He didn’t like the fact that Truth could talk to him through that ball. After all those years, he had hoped Truth had decided he didn’t actually need him anymore, that the cryptic warning he received that day had been for nothing. 

Darn his luck. 

“You know what it means?” Dumbledore asked, staring him in the eye again.

Ed glanced away before Truth attacked the man through his mind again.

“Yeah, it’s an order from a superior I can’t refuse. Guess my research will have to wait a bit.”

“But what does it mean?” Dumbledore asked again. 

Ed glared. It seemed pretty rude of the guy to pressure him for a straight answer when the old coot never gave anyone else one.

“It means God doesn’t trust you wand wavers to off the guy, so he wants me to stop him before he ends up in Truth’s domain,” he shrugged, waving his hand flippantly, “I’ve done it before with other guys, it’ll be no sweat. I’ve kind of become Truth’s lackey, which sucks, but at least he gives me partial treatment.”

A snicker came from the orb in Dumbledore’s hand, but Ed pointedly ignored it. 

“I suppose this confirms he’s got magic,” Monkstanley grunted, “The prophecy wouldn’t have reacted if he didn’t have magic.”

Dumbledore nodded, but before he could respond, an owl landed on his shoulder. 

“What the heck?!” Ed yelled, startled at the sudden appearance. 

Dumbledore took the message and read it quickly, his expression darkening into one of anger, before smoothing to determination. 

“Come, Ed. We must hurry,” he said, turning to leave. 

“The prophecy, Dumbledore?” Monkstanley prompted. 

The man paused, handing the orb to a reluctant Ed. 

“It is yours. Guard it well.”

Stuffing the object in his pocket in the hopes of drowning out Truth’s cackle, he followed the wizard out of the mysterious department.

Chapter Text

Ed followed Dumbledore as he swept down corridor after corridor. He was honestly surprised at the agility of such an old man.

“Now Edward,” Dumbledore started, and Ed already knew he wasn’t going to like what was said just from the tone of his voice. “I advise against getting involved in these matters. I cannot imagine that anyone in the room would take kindly to you or your way of going about things. It would do no help to Harry.”

Ed rolled his eyes. What a pompous way to say that Ed was an asshole. Well guess what, buttercup? He could be as diplomatic as the rest of them!

They turned one last corner and a familiar head of red hair popped into view. What was his name again? Andrew? Aardvark? He was the father of all the redhead friends of Harry’s. If Ed remembered correctly, he was the one who brought Harry.

So where was Harry?

“Dumbledore! Thank Merlin, I’m not allowed in, so I wasn’t sure how to get Arabella in. Thank goodness she got here early.” Ed glanced to his side and noticed a batty old lady in carpet slippers. “Should she just go in now?”

“Not to worry, Arthur,” Dumbledore assured him as he passed, “I’ll handle it. I’ll come get her in a moment.”

With that, the wizard pulled open the door and slipped through.

“What’s going on exactly?” Ed asked. He was still confused. He thought the hearing wasn’t for another couple hours. He told Harry he would be there, but now he’s being told to wait outside?

“Well,” Arthur began, and Ed got the distinct impression that he liked the situation as well as Ed did. “I had been taking Harry on a tour of sorts, and when we were in my office, I got an owl saying that the time and place of the hearing was changed last minute!” The balding man nervously wrung his hands together. “I hope that Harry’s alright in there. They shouldn’t be in that room. It’s for criminals. He’s just a kid.”

“And who is this?” Ed asked, trying to control his growing worry and irritation.

“Oh, I knew I recognized you! You’re the one who helped Harry that night!” the batty old lady said happily.

“Do I know you?” Ed asked, glancing between Arthur and the old lady.

She shook her head a little sadly. “I suppose you wouldn’t, since you were out cold when we met. I helped Harry get you and his cousin back to his relatives. He said you were a visiting friend of his. How do you know Harry then? You look a little too old to be a Hogwarts student. Are you a professor?”

Ed shook his head. “No way, I don’t even—.”

His sentence was cut off when the door opened. He recognized the head of hair, but he had never seen the face that accompanied it.

“Percy! What are you doing here?” Arthur asked disbelievingly, his eyes wide.

“My job.” Came the curt reply. Percy turned to Arabella. “I’m here to collect the witness.”

Arthur’s jaw was working overtime, but he was silent when he gently nudged the little old lady forward. With a nod, she stepped into the room, followed closely by Percy. No one noticed Ed slide in before the door shut.

Ed glanced around the room. Harry was sitting in a chair covered in chains in the center of the room, with Dumbledore in a posh parlor chair next to him. The professor offered his chair to Arabella, before magicking another into being for himself.

Ed would never tire of watching that. It fascinated him, how magic was possible to this degree.

“Full name?”

Ed was pulled out of his musings on magical theory by the harsh command. He looked past Harry to the seats above them, where around fifty people sat. The one in the middle, a grumpy looking man had been the one to speak. Given his seat and his attitude, Ed guessed he was the Minister, Fudge. Ed scowled as he and the severe looking woman to his left interrogated poor Arabella.

The woman was so nervous and her story so unconvincing, even Al would have had difficulty believing her, and he could always give people the benefit of doubt. While she was being interrogated, Ed discretely shuffled to the side to sit in the closest seat in the audience. He had a perfect view of Harry and his jury. When Arabella finished her story, Ed scanned the faces in the audience. It wasn’t looking good for Harry.

Ed waited, as Dumbledore and the Minister went back and forth. Their argument was news to Ed. Dumbledore thought those dementors were sent by the Ministry? That would certainly make sense if they wanted Harry out of the way. He could see Envy doing something similar to discredit him if they had thought of it. It wouldn’t have been hard. A bunch of adults ganging up on a kid just because the kid was right.

‘I guess governments are the same everywhere.’

When Dolores Umbridge leaned forward to speak, at first, Ed thought she may have been a toad chimera, but her simpering voice when she questioned Dumbledore was enough to make Ed want to punch her on principle.

When Fudge snapped, yelling that there were no dementors outside Ministry control, Ed decided he had had enough.

“Excuse me, may I interject?” he asked politely, channeling his inner Mustang.

All eyes immediately turned to him.

“Who are you?!” Fudge screeched, knocking over his bottle of ink in his floundering.

Ed inclined his head. “A witness.”

Murmurs rose. Ed saw Harry sag with relief, but Dumbledore was tense. Oh well. Too late to turn back now.

“You are a witness to the attack on the second of August?” The severe looking witch asked, her booming voice commanding silence from the room. Her demeanor and ease in commanding a room reminded him of Hawkeye. He unconsciously sat straighter.

“I was, ma’am.”

“And you are a wizard?” she asked, her monocle in danger of falling out with how high her eyebrows had raised.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ed replied, fingering the glass orb in his pocket.

“Your name?” the Minister barked, in an effort to gain back control of the situation.

“Edward Elric, sir.”

The pink toad’s bug eyes narrowed. “Elric is not a wizarding family.”

Ed smiled politely. “No ma’am. It’s my mother’s name. My father was the one with abilities, but he left my mother shortly after I was born. She never took his name, so I didn’t either.”

Murmurs once again rose among the audience. Umbridge scoffed.

“There is no way of corroborating your story then, is there?”

Ed cocked his head to the side. “With all due respect, ma’am, I was a witness and a victim of the attack. If Miss Arabella can be heard, why can I not be?”

Hawkeye 2.0 nodded once, her eyebrows and monocle back in place. Most of the room seemed to settle down, willing to listen.

“Fine, fine. Go on, we haven’t got all day.” Fudge ground out, waving an impatient hand at him.

“Thank you,” Ed answered, walking around the bench to stand next to Harry.

Dumbledore had vanished Arabella’s chair when she left, so he moved to conjure another, when Ed stopped him with a wave of his hand and a wink.

“So,” Ed barked, clapping his hands and facing his audience, “Where shall I begin?”

He reached out beside him, holding his hand over the ground, using the alchemic transmutation he had discretely started to pull a chair from the stone floor. It took a lot of concentration, but he was able to change the color of the stone with some complicated chemical reactions using the oxygen in the air to make a decent replica of the chair Dumbledore had just vanished.

There were several gasps from the audience, and Hawkeye 2.0’s monocle fell out.

Chapter Text

“Th-that was wandless magic!” Fudge squeaked.

Ed nodded. “I did tell you my father left. I taught myself this technique without a wand.” Said Ed as he sat.

The whole room was abuzz.

“Teaching yourself wandless magic?”

“Why didn’t he go to Hogwarts?”

“Absolutely brilliant!”

Now that he was guaranteed to have their attention, he would have to be very careful with how he played this. He couldn’t be seen as too attached to Harry or Dumbledore, but he couldn’t outright reject them either. He could do this.

Ed thought of his mother and a sad smile formed on his face. He hoped this worked.

“My mother was ill, and she died when I was young. I was raised by regular people who didn't share my abilities. Relatively nice people, but they didn’t understand what I could do, much like Harry’s relatives.” Ed dismissively tossed a hand towards Harry but continued before anyone could object. “Naturally, my only course of action was to learn any way I could, with a lot of trial and error. Clearly, I succeeded to some degree.” He said, indicating the pink, stone chair he was sitting in.

Murmurs began again in earnest around the room once again. He needed to watch himself.

“But as the Minister pointed out, we haven’t got all day. Enough about my tragic backstory.” Ed waved a hand dismissively again. “During July, I had been traveling across Europe, as traveling is a favorite pastime of mine, and on the second of August, I found myself in Little Whinging. It reminded me of a village I once spent a great deal of time in. I traveled a lot in my childhood, you see. So, on this night, I was in a park, when Harry’s bumbling oaf of a cousin decided to insult me.”

He paused to make a face at the memory. He could see Umbridge and Fudge looking particularly sympathetic. He could work with this.

“Naturally, I retaliated. Harry was kind enough to apologize for the idiot. He had been polite compared to his cousin and I do love talking with natives, so I walked Harry and his cousin back to their home, as it was dark, and I wanted the company. We had made it to an alleyway when it… it got suddenly dark.” Ed shuddered, remembering the feeling of dread. “I don’t mean nighttime dark; I mean the stars themselves were snuffed out. I thought I was going to have to defend myself and two regular folk, as at the time, I still didn’t know who Harry was.”

Ed paused again, this time not for dramatic effect, but to prepare himself for what he was going to say.

“I’ve never been more horrified. I’ve had a difficult life, as I’m sure you can imagine, and the… images… those creatures forced me to see… I’ve never encountered a dementor before, and I pray to Truth I never meet one again. It only took a moment for me to faint from the trauma. When I awoke, Harry had brought me back to his home and gave me chocolate, which I later found out he only knew because those loathsome creatures had been stationed at his school of all places, even attacking a crowd during a sporting tournament! It’s stories like that that make me glad I never went to a wizard school.”

Ed shuddered again for dramatic effect. He knew he was hamming it up, but so far, he hadn’t told an outright lie. He wasn’t sure if there was some sort of spell that could detect lies that they were using, so he had decided to be careful. The older he got, the more he could appreciate Mustang’s knack for subtlety. He also knew from a passage in one of the books in the Black library that physical attacks weren't supposed to work on dementors, so he decided to forgo telling them about how he punched one in the face somehow.

The room had been deadly silent while he spoke, but now the room was abuzz with whispers again.

“I do believe” said Dumbledore, cutting through the babble, “that confirms the presence of dementors in that alleyway. Clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations that threaten the life of the wizard or the witch himself, or witches, wizards, or Muggles present at the time of the incident, I would say we are in agreement that Harry’s use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances.”

Fudge was turning a lovely shade of purple that Harry’s uncle Vernon would have been proud of.

“Well, I suppose laws can always change.” Snarled Fudge.

Ed rose one dark gold eyebrow.

“I would hope, Minister,” Ed purred, every inch of him mimicking Mustang at his most threatening, “that you are not implying that Harry should not have saved my life?”

“I—that—not—” blustered Fudge, his face draining of color.

Ed looked thoughtful. “I suppose he didn’t save my life, only my soul. A fate worse than death, isn’t it? I suppose then you think I should have lost my soul that night.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“I say, don’t they guard your prison?” Ed interrupted pleasantly, “If Harry had been convicted for underage magic, he would have ended up surrounded by a whole bunch of them!” Ed affected a scandalized look at his faux realization. He hoped it was convincing.

“He would not be sent to Azkaban!” interjected Hawkeye 2.0.

Ed blinked up at Fudge innocently. “But isn’t this a criminal trial? It certainly looks like it. He’s even got chains on his chair and everything!” said Ed as he gestured to Harry sitting on the edge of his chair.

The Wizengamot all looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?” said Hawkeye 2.0 in her booming voice.

Ed took a quick count. Good. Harry was cleared.

“And those in favor of conviction?”

Ed was pissed to see Fudge’s hand tentatively raised but satisfied at least that the man wouldn’t look at him while doing so. The toad witch on his right also raised her hand, as did a half dozen others.

Fudge glanced around, looking as though there were something large stuck in his throat, then quickly lowered his own hand. He took two very deep breaths, then said, in a voice distorted by disappointment and suppressed rage, “Very well, very well… cleared of all charges.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet far to quickly for a man of his age, in Ed’s opinion.

Ed discretely folded his hands in his lap, starting the transmutation to set the floor to rights before he left.

“Well, I must be getting along. Good day to you all.”

Dumbledore waved his wand and his chair vanished. Without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.

Ed nodded, standing and holding a hand over the stone chair, sinking it back into the floor.

“How do you manage that?” asked Hawkeye 2.0.

Her booming voice had caught everyone’s attention, and now everyone was watching Ed. He hoped Harry would take the opportunity to leave. It would be easier for him to make his way back alone than explain why he and Harry were leaving together.

“As a child, I read a book that talked of alchemy. I call what I do alchemy, although I do not make gold nor the Elixir of Life, as I hear is the goal of magical alchemy.”

“Yes, yes, but how do you do it?” Fudge pressed.

Ed pondered for a split second, his mind working overtime.

“I could try to show you?”

Fudge nodded eagerly. He quickly shoved his things in his briefcase before bustling down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

“Let’s go to my office!” said Fudge happily.

Ed turned and followed the man, his boots clicking on the stone. He was happy to see that Harry had indeed taken the opportunity to run when it presented itself. If he could work this properly, he could complete Mustang’s orders to strengthen ties with other countries, while still protecting Harry. 

Chapter Text

Ed followed the Minister as he tottered out the door. To his surprise, Harry and Arthur were both in the hallway outside. Fudge seemed determined to ignore their existence, so Ed merely nodded to Arthur and shot Harry a quick wink as he passed. The toadish woman was following closely, as was the estranged Weasley boy, so Ed didn’t stick around. Dutifully, he followed the Minister, and tried to tune into what he was saying.

“You understand, of course, why I did as I did. I have to be harsh with Potter, or he’ll come up with even more fantastical things to incite fear and chaos in the public, and Dumbledore is encouraging him, you see. He’s using him and his wild stories to spread panic.”

Ed nodded politely.

“Of course, sir. I completely understand.”

Fudge stopped in his tracks, turning to Ed in mild shock.

“You do?”

Ed resisted the urge to smirk.

“Naturally, I’m hurt that my wellbeing was disregarded in a foreign state so blatantly by one of it’s top officials, but I can understand the reasoning behind it.”

Ed was every bit the diplomat. His words were soft, but his voice was clear and controlled. He learned from Mustang, and Mustang was the best.

Fudge nodded eagerly, saying, “Of course you understand why, of course.”

Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not even an apology.

They had been zipping along down hallways, passersby stopping the Minister for greetings every thirty seconds. Ed could tell the man was in a hurry to get him alone. Was wandless magic that impressive? Ed thought all young witches and wizards could do wandless magic. Harry said he had magically set a snake loose in a zoo before he even knew he was a wizard. Wasn’t that how parents knew their children were magical? Did Ed make a grave mistake?

Before he could come up with a decent backup plan, Fudge had led them to his office. The door was rather plain compared to Mustang’s office door. The office itself was rather small compared to Mustang’s office. The occupant of the office was rather moronic compared to Mustang’s office occupant.

Ed really needed to stop comparing the Minister for Magic to the Führer of Amestris. Clearly Ed was biased.

Ed followed the Minister, settling himself into one of the red armchairs sitting opposite the main desk. Percy stayed in the outer room at his own desk, but the pink toad lady followed them in, shut the door behind her, and settled herself into a chair to the side with familiarity and a smile, looking Ed up and down in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The minister didn’t seem to notice. Ed decided not to comment.

“So,” Fudge began, “how do you do it? No, wait. I suppose the first question should be: how did you learn? Or rather, how did you know you were a wizard Mr. Elric?”

Ed smiled politely, ignoring the witch to his left, and answered, “My mother had told me stories of my father’s… talents. I suppose I grew up assuming I would share his gifts until one day, I did.”

Umbridge was leaning forward in her chair, a clipboard and quill in hand, eagerly scribbling notes. Fudge nodded encouragingly.

Ed straightened in his chair.

“I can only perform basic conversions, and I can only affect non-living material. I haven’t been able to influence living creatures without dire consequences.”

“What sort of consequences?” pressed Umbridge, her quill quivering and smile simpering.

Ed scowled.

“Dire ones.”

Her eyes widened in response before glancing at the Minister then back to her clipboard. Her quill scribbled faster as the pink of her cheeks got darker.

“Could you give us a demonstration?” Fudge asked, a little less eager and a little more nervous than he had been a moment before.

Ed nodded, looking over the Minister’s desk. He picked up a little clear crystal paperweight shaped like a witch’s hat and felt the weight of it in his hands.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course!” answered Fudge, gesturing to his desktop for Ed to help himself.

“Thank you.”

Ed set the paperweight on the desk in front of him and rolled up his sleeves, explaining as he did so, “Now, the thing about my alchemy is that I have to know what the object I’m transmuting is made of. This little paperweight is made of quartz,” He picked up the inkwell on the desk along with a spare bit of parchment, “and these contain sodium carbonate and calcium carbonate.”

Ed laid out all three of his finds.

“Now,” said Ed as he folded his hands in his lap, “Since I know what it is that I want to make, I collect the things I need to make it. My ability isn’t strong enough to turn stone into water, you see, but I can pull water out of the air without a wand, so it does have its uses. Now that I have all the pieces, I simply concentrate,” Ed lifted a hand to hover over his three ingredients and called forth the transmutation, “And I pull the objects apart.”

Ed slowly deconstructed the ink, parchment, and crystal paperweight. Blue alchemic energy zapped and danced from his hand to his project. His audience was enthralled.

“Now I reconstruct them however I’d like.”

He finished the transmutation and when the blue light faded, it revealed the finished product: an ornate hourglass.

“So, you see,” Ed explained as he passed the hourglass to a shell-shocked Fudge, settling back in his seat and placing his folded hands in his lap, “There are limitations but also plenty of applications for it.”

Fudge gingerly turned the hourglass to and fro. The glass was smooth with three of Ed’s signature gargoyles adorning the outside, made from the pewter of the ink bottle to protect the glass and hold it in place. Inside the glass, white sand trickled through the waist to collect in the body below. The whole thing wasn’t any bigger than Ed’s hand, but it still impressed his audience. He really didn’t like the look Umbridge was giving him.

“That’s amazing! No wand at all?”

“I’ve never owned a wand, ma’am. They don’t have wands in Amestris that I’m aware of.”

Ed counted down the seconds. ‘Three… two… one.’

“I’ve never heard of Amestris. Is that where you’re from?”

‘Bingo.’

Ed nodded, still with that polite smile on his face.

“Yes, Minister. We’re a small landlocked state. We were rather isolationist in the past, and we don’t have much of a magical presence, which is probably why you’ve never heard of us, but my Führer wanted to expand our knowledge and reach out and extend a hand of friendship, so to speak, so he sent me to travel to research and find new friends of our state.”

‘Mustang can suck it. This idiot’s eating out of my hand.’

Fudge nodded excitedly, his eyes twinkling and his smile so wide it nearly reached his ears. This was his chance! He couldn’t let such a valuable asset get away!

“Well, Mr. Elric, I’m sure you’ll find no greater friend than the Ministry of Magic! You just let me know if there’s anything we can do for you.”

“Hem hem.”

Ed and Fudge both turned to Umbridge, whose cheeks were getting alarmingly pink. Ed raised an eyebrow. Her blush deepened, if that were possible, as she gingerly settled her clipboard in her lap.

“Cornelius,” she began in that simpering voice that drove Ed up the wall, “Why don’t we invite dear Edward to join me teaching at Hogwarts? I’m sure the students would just love to learn from him, and he would have access to the largest magical library in the world.”

Ed had to fight not to grin.

“Hogwarts? That’s the school that Potter kid is at, isn’t it?”

Fudge’s smile dropped immediately.

“Yes, while I like the idea of you staying and teaching our children such a unique and useful magic, or alchemy as you called it, there would be plenty of problem children you’d have to deal with, especially in Gryffindor. I wouldn’t want to subject you to that.”

He fiddled with the hourglass, nearly knocking it over. His blatant incompetence almost made Ed feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Ed unfolded his hands and reached out for the hourglass. Fudge startled a bit but quickly placed the hourglass in his upturned palm. Ed transmuted the hourglass back to the parchment, ink bottle, and crystal paperweight as soon as it touched his hand, letting the alchemic energy snap at Fudge’s hand that was still outstretched. The man jumped, quickly pulling his hand back. Ed noticed Umbridge move out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t glance over.

He kept eye contact with the Minister, and as the transmutation ended, he said, “I think I can handle a few children, Minister.”

Fudge picked his jaw up from the floor after watching his fourth transmutation and nodded dumbly.

“V-very well. I’ll need to speak to Dumbledore about a new course…”

Ed grinned broadly, standing from his seat.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Minister. He owes me for incidentally helping the Potter kid out of a tight spot just by being in the right place at the right time. I’m sure I can convince him for you.”

Fudge stood, offering a hand to shake as he walked around his desk.

“You let me know how it goes. Dolores will also be teaching at Hogwarts, so you’ll have a friend at Hogwarts no matter what.”

Umbridge tittered like a schoolgirl, and Ed nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He’d honestly rather have Envy as a colleague, but there wasn’t anything he could do about her being a teacher.

Ed smiled as he nodded to the witch who was once again looking at Ed in a way that set off alarm bells. To distract himself, he took the Minister’s offered hand and tried not to grimace. Shaking the Minister’s hand was like shaking a limp fish.

‘Nothing like Mustang at all.’

Chapter Text

When Ed left Fudge’s office, he was unsurprised to run into Dumbledore after the first corner he marched around. The hall was deserted, and Ed had the sneaking suspicion the man had planned it that way. He had the same look on his face that Ed’s father always did when the bastard was disappointed in him.

It pissed Ed off.

“‘Thank you, Ed,’” said Ed in a mockery of Dumbledore’s voice, “‘For getting Harry out of a tight spot.’” Ed scoffed, his voice returning to his own, “I don’t even know what a Squib is, but I can tell you that batty lady can’t see dementors any more than Fudge can smell BS. I also got myself a teaching position at your Pigwart school with Fudgebuckets backing me. He was eating out of my hand. I now have reason to spend time with you lot, and I can follow Harry unsuspected. You’re welcome. Now let’s go.”

Ed brushed past the wizard, not looking to see if he followed or not.

Back at Grimmauld Place, there was a party to celebrate Harry getting off, as well as Ron and Hermione becoming prefects, as their Hogwarts letters came when Harry had come back with the news. Ed mingled a bit, mostly talking with Lupin about the finer points of lycanthropy. It amused him, but the color of his eyes led Remus to think that Ed was a werewolf. Ed didn’t mind, in fact, he was sure his research into chimeras would benefit from the information, not that he would ever tell Lupin that. He wasn’t that insensitive. While he and Lupin talked, he noticed Harry in his peripheral vision. The boy was in the corner, leaning against the wall, clearly brooding.

Ed knew a thing or two about brooding. He had mastered it when he was eight after all.

“Hey, Remus?” Ed started, interrupting the man, “What’s up with Harry?”

Remus turned to see what Ed was referring to as Sirius sidled up to the boy. Remus frowned. He knew why Sirius had been morose. If Harry hadn’t been cleared, then he would have stayed with him at the Black house. He supposed his friend was just a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to keep his godson with him. Sadly, Remus knew it was for the best. Sirius seemed to treat Harry more like James than like Harry, and it worried him a bit.

“Well?” Ed prompted, pulling the lycanthrope from his thoughts.

“I don’t know, but it may have something to do with Sirius.”

Ed merely looked at him, clearly wanting an elaboration. Lupin sighed.

“You know Harry doesn’t like it at his relatives. Can’t say I blame him, I suppose, but it is for his safety. Sirius had told him he could stay with him if he was expelled. I suppose they are both a little disappointed that Harry wouldn’t be staying.”

Ed nodded in understanding at the explanation. If he had been given the chance to stay with Al when the other option was staying with Führer Bradley, he figured he would be a little disappointed to lose the opportunity as well.

From his vantage point, he saw Sirius nudge Harry’s shoulder, and the boy smiled, so he assumed that everything was all right. The man was a little awkward in social interactions, but he knew Sirius was kind, so he could cheer Harry up easily. Tired from his long day at the Ministry and still not totally over the boggart incident the day previous, Ed said his goodnights and headed up the stairs.

Harry felt so relieved. His pep talk with Sirius had definitely helped him get over his jealousy. He really liked the idea of Sirius homeschooling him if he wanted to rebel and leave Hogwarts on strike, but he knew it was an empty offer. They both knew Harry would never leave. Though, Sirius could probably teach him a lot of auror stuff he wouldn’t learn at school. Glancing up to see Ed heading up the stairs, his train of thought derailed to the hearing from earlier and the information he discovered.

“By the way, Sirius,” Harry asked, “What do you know of alchemy?”

Sirius frowned, confused at the sudden change of topic. “Not much. Remus probably knows more than I do. I know he looked into it a bit for… reasons.”

Harry nodded, understanding what ‘reasons’ meant. “Thanks.”

With a final nod to his godfather, Harry crossed the room over to Lupin.

“Hey, professor Lupin?” he asked.

“I’m not a professor anymore, Harry.” Remus replied, setting his glass on the table. If Harry had come to him to be cheered up, he was going to give him his undivided attention.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, what do you know of alchemy?”

Lupin blinked, not having expected the question.

“Well, as I understand it, it is the art dedicated to the creation of gold and the Elixir of Life through the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry nodded; his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s what I thought.”

“Whatever brought on the question?” Lupin asked, curious.

Harry turned back to him, his eyes wide. After years with James and Sirius, Remus could spot a guilty look a kilometer away.

“What did you do, Harry?” Lupin asked, his voice stern.

“Nothing, I swear!” the boy hastened to assure him, “Ed had mentioned that his boggart had something to do with alchemy, and he called his wandless magic ‘alchemy’ at the hearing today. I was just curious.”

The werewolf blinked in confusion. He had looked into alchemy with the idea that the Elixir of Life could possibly cure him, but it had proven a fruitless venture. He had no idea how the monster Ed’s boggart was could possibly be related to alchemy, and to his knowledge, alchemy had nothing to do with wandless magic. As far as he knew, wandless magic was limited to maybe a levitation charm or something else basic, unless it was accidental magic.

“I’m not sure how the two could be related. I’ll ask Dumbledore. He knows a lot more of alchemy than I do.”

Harry nodded, satisfied for the moment. With a wave and a thanks, he left the past professor to his thoughts, heading over to Ron to properly congratulate him.

Chapter Text

Ed was pissed. The “mighty Dumbledore” wished to speak with him. He just knew this had to do with the stunt he pulled at the hearing.

‘Dumbledore is going to have to just learn to deal with it.’

Pulling the prophesy from his pocket where he kept it, he left his room to find the wizard. As he walked, he asked Truth, “What do you think of my plan? Think it’ll work?”

‘You are a gifted child, by this world’s standards. Why do you need my opinion?’

Ed rolled his eyes. “Meaning you have no idea?”

Ed could practically hear the scowl on Truth’s face.

‘Whether I know or not is no concern of yours, human.’

Ed sighed, pocketing the blue sphere.

Tromping down the stairs, Ed strolled into the entryway where Dumbledore was waiting for him.

“What’s up, old man?” he asked, glad that his English had improved so much.

Dumbledore smiled, motioning to a room down the hall, “Won’t you join me? We can discuss this in private.”

Ed nodded, stomping off in the direction the man indicated. He picked a room that he and the teens had already cleaned and plopped down into one of the overstuffed chairs.

“So, what’s all this about, old man?” Ed asked scowling, as Dumbledore settled himself into a chair.

“As we have learned from your prophecy, you have magic.”

Ed nodded, relenting.

“And from what transpired at Harry’s hearing, you practice wandless magic you call “alchemy” as well.”

Ed scowled. “What, are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

“I should have known already,” Dumbledore smiled, “You wear the Flamel.” He stated in answer to the questioning look.

“So, what?” Ed snapped. “Our alchemy is different anyway. The alchemy in your books is so depraved and far from what is practiced in Amestris that it is laughable. Don’t assume that I will start spewing gold, and the Elixir of Life is a load of crap. Doesn’t exist.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

“Then how did my friend Nicholas live for so long?”

Ed snorted. “My guess? Either he was a selfish bastard that didn’t mind sacrificing lives to prolong his own, or, like my old man, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The wizard frowned, not appreciating the way Ed was speaking of his late friend.

“You remind me of Nicholas. He was also cryptic.” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, wondering. “He also had golden hair and eyes.”

At Ed’s reaction, realization spread across the man’s features. “You know of him? ‘Like my old man’ you said. Was Nicholas your father?”

Ed grumbled, his response unintelligible.

‘That bastard wasn’t at mom’s funeral because he was halfway ‘round the world getting chummy with this guy?!’

“Edward?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he relented, “He probably was. You got a picture of him?”

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and waved it through the air for a bit. Slowly, a picture of a man began to form, and Ed would recognize those sad, golden eyes anywhere.

“I apologize for the poor quality of my memory. I have not seen him since he asked I destroy his stone four years ago.”

“WHAT?!” Ed shrieked, jumping from his chair. “What the hell was the bastard thinking? How could he abandon those souls so easily?” he pulled the prophecy from his pocket. “Truth, did you know about this? Souls from a stone go to you when the vessel is broken, don’t they?” he demanded of the orb.

‘I suggest you speak to the crazy, old man.’

Ed would never admit it, but he was grateful that he could speak with Truth without anyone hearing him or having to perform human transmutation. It was nice to speak in his people’s tongue for a while, and he had to admit, the bastard shared his sense of humor.

That didn’t mean he liked the current conversation.

“Alright, old man,” Ed said, sliding back into his chair, trying to keep himself calm, “Explain.”

Ed listened while Dumbledore explained how his old friend Nicholas had given him what he said was the philosopher’s stone, telling him to keep it safe for a year, then shatter the stone. He hid the stone, first in Gringotts, then in Hogwarts, until a year had passed, and he could destroy it. To Dumbledore’s annoyance, he couldn’t damage it at all. He tried everything he could think of, finally deciding to keep it on his person and tell people it had been destroyed.

Ed snorted. “He told you to break it, but he didn’t tell you how?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Ha! That’s just like the guy! I’ll bet he left it here in case Father made it off the continent. You still got the thing then?” he asked.

In response, Dumbledore pulled a red stone from his pocket. Ed recognized it immediately. That was the power that had initially made him wary of the man. Holding his right hand open in question, Dumbledore reluctantly placed the stone in his palm. To the shock of both men, the stone liquified, melting into Ed’s skin.

“What the- “

Searing pain fled through Ed’s veins, hundreds of voices filling his mind, screaming. Slowly, the pain and screaming subsided.

‘You are not Hohenheim. How did you acquire us?’ a harsh voice asked him in Xerxesian, inside his own mind.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

Ed had no clue what to say or do. Vaguely, he was aware of a few more voices asking questions, but he was trying to process what had just happened.

‘Are you… are you Xerxesians?’ he asked inside his mind.

‘If we were not, why would we speak the language?’ the harsh voice answered.

‘Stay quiet, Markos, can’t you see he is distraught? Who wouldn’t be after having his soul invaded by a few hundred people?’ a feminine voice reprimanded.

‘Did you come from my father?’ Ed asked, slowly getting the hang of having a conversation with voices in his head.

‘Hohenheim was a good friend to us.’ Came the feminine voice again.

‘We all know he was more than a friend to you, Zena.’ a quiet, masculine voice quipped.

Somehow, Ed could feel the pain from Zena’s soul.

‘That is none of your concern, Gregor.’ Zena fired back.

‘Okay, wait, wait, slow down,’ Ed pleaded, overwhelmed. ‘So, you did come from my father’s stone? How did you end up here?’

He could sense Zena hushing the rest, and he was immensely thankful.

‘You see, child,’ she explained, ‘Your father had travelled outside of your continent in his younger years, shortly after Xerxes fell, trying to undo the horror than befell our people. When he realized what the Dwarf in the Flask was trying to accomplish, he came back to Amestris and tasked some of us with helping him to save the country, as he was incapable of doing for Xerxes. As a last resort, he left us here, in Dumbledore’s care, in case his plan did not work. When Dumbledore broke the stone after Hohenheim was back in Amestris, we would have been free to roam. When we were created, a barrier was erected around the continent, effectively cutting it off from the world. Should the Dwarf escape the barrier he inadvertently created, we would be ready and waiting to stop him here. Unfortunately, the man he entrusted us with didn’t know the first thing about us. You are the first to hear us since your father.’

“Edward? What happened?”

Ed was shaken from the inner conversation when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he jumped back, red, alchemic light zapping at the man’s hand as he retreated.

“Do you know what the stone was made of?” Ed asked.

“Nicholas refused to tell me, despite our long friendship.”

Ed laughed. “I’m not surprised. The last person that he knew held the secret was a dear friend as well, and that monster caused the deaths of everyone he knew.”

Dumbledore really couldn’t think of a good response to that, so he said nothing.

“I guess the best way to describe it is that I absorbed the stone into myself, but it has a life and mind of its own, so I have to kinda talk to it?” His explanation ended as more of a question as Ed realized how ridiculous it sounded, but Dumbledore merely nodded.

“I had wondered, on occasion, if that might not be the case. The stone seemed to think for itself a little more than an inanimate object should.” The old man explained.

‘We may not be able to move or speak in the stone, but we are not inanimate.’ The one called Zena said.

‘I figured,’ Ed replied, ‘I’m not really used to this yet, so I don’t know how to let you out…’

‘Do not worry, child. We have waited centuries. We can wait more.’ The voice Zena called Gregor said.

‘We will help you to adjust. My name is Zena. The other two are Gregor and Markos. They are both idiots, so you may ignore them.’

‘HEY!’

Ed clutched his head as pain erupted behind his eyes at the soul’s volume. Arguing voices ran rampant through his mind, until he had had enough.

“SHUT UP!”

“Edward?” Harry asked.

Ed opened his eyes to realize that he had shouted aloud, with his luck, while Dumbledore had been speaking.

Also, they had an audience.

This was awkward.

“Sorry, they were… I wasn’t talking to you.” He knew that made him sound crazy, but he had a few hundred extra souls. He figured sounding crazy was better than actually going crazy at this point. Dumbledore and the teenagers in the doorway would just have to deal with it.

“What happened, Ed?” Harry asked from the door. His trust in Dumbledore took a sharp hit when he, Ron and Hermione had walked past the room. Ed was in trouble, and the Headmaster was to blame.

‘I can totally relate, Ed.’

“Nothing to worry about,” Ed assured them as they approached, “I will get it sorted. Sorry, old man, but I need to rest. I’ll be upstairs, somewhere.” With that, Edward sidled passed the worried, watching teens to vanish upstairs.

“What happened, Professor?” Harry asked, turning back to Dumbledore, only to see that the old wizard was gone. “Of course. Naturally, he can’t be bothered to stick around.”

Chapter Text

Upstairs, in his favorite chair in the Black library, Ed sat and talked with the Xerxesians for hours. They had centuries of knowledge that he could explore, and he couldn’t wait. The three he spoke to previously were the strongest souls in the stone, so he mostly spoke with them. Having been locked in the stone for years, some of the weaker souls had already faded away into nothing but energy.

A knock brought him out of his head. Sirius grinned at him from his vantage point by a bookcase.

“I know you get lost in books, but lost in your own head? That’s new. Everything okay?”

Ed explained what had happened, having found a kindred spirit in the man over the past week. The two were becoming fast friends, despite their differences.

“I knew something was up when Harry asked about you, but Merlin’s beard, that’s a lot.”

Ed nodded, exhausted. He reached into his pocket to grab his watch, wanting to check the time, but his hand closed around the prophecy in his pocket by accident. Belatedly, he realized he had reached into the wrong pocket in his distracted state of mind, but the red sparks of alchemic energy were enough to distract him further.

“Ed, what’s going on?” Sirius cried as wind whipped out of nowhere, the zap and red light exposed when Ed pulled the glass orb from his pocket. “You have a prophecy?!”

Ed didn’t bother to answer as his senses were overloaded. His vision was nothing but red, all he could hear was the crack of energy, and the tang of ozone coated his tongue from the transmutation he never activated. There was a quick pull in the middle of his chest that jerked him forward, and red sparks danced down his arm, his mouth open in a silent scream.

As quickly as it started, the exchange stopped, and Edward realized with a growing dread: the Xerxesian souls were gone.

“Zena?! Markos?! Gregor?!”

“Edward?”

Ed sighed in relief. The souls weren’t gone. They had somehow been sucked into the prophecy.

“Mr. Alchemist, why are there a few hundred ancient souls in our communication ball?”

“You speak Xerxesian? Never mind, not important. Um… so the bastard did something.” Ed started, unsure how to explain this to Truth without losing a limb or two.

“Which bastard? You have several.” Truth snarked back.

Ed grinned. ‘Okay, he’s in a good mood.’

“My dad. Basically, he left them here to keep Father in check if he ever made it off the continent.” Ed explained.

Truth scoffed. “How pointless. The whole reason I made a rift in reality was to keep Father from spreading out further. He couldn’t have left that continent if he tried.”

“Ha! I knew he had something to do with it!” Ed shouted triumphantly at Sirius.

When he looked up, he realized that the three friends had found him as well. He tucked the orb back in his pocket, and as his skin left the surface of the orb, the voices ceased.

“Ed?” Harry asked, uncertain.

“Sorry,” Ed said, shaking thoughts out of his head, “What’s up?”

Sirius answered, “You just sat there conversing with a prophecy in a different language.”

Ed nodded, “Yeah, apparently, they’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

The group simply stared.

The next morning, Ed tromped down the stairs to the heavenly smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. He was in a chipper mood, despite having stayed up until the wee hours of the morning. He spent hours talking to the Xerxesian souls, and he had learned so much. Apparently, his father and Zena had been a thing before Xerxes fell. That was a little weird to think about, considering her soul was inside him when he had kids with someone else, but she assured him that Hohenheim had left her piece of the stone in England before the First World War. Zena never met Trisha.

Ed still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t imagine the pain he would feel if that happened to Winry.

The two spent hours talking about their respective loves, thoroughly boring poor Markos, but Gregor enjoyed listening, having lost his own wife before the stone’s creation.

Now, Ed was whistling as he meandered downstairs, the prophecy neatly tucked into a pocket sealed shut with alchemy, so it wouldn’t get lost.

“-shouldn’t have it! What if Harry starts catching on?”

Ed recognized the sounds of Molly fighting with Sirius from the kitchen, but before he could eavesdrop, a bald, wrinkly, thing slunk around the corner, darted past him in a blur, and burst into the kitchen.

Naturally, Ed followed.

“Kreacher, you slimy little git! You left slugs in my bed last night!” Sirius cried, diving at the elf that was scuttling to his nest.

“The Gryffindor filth deserved it for the dishonor he has brought to the Noble House of Black!”

Ed watched, both amused and flummoxed as the elf wriggled out of Sirius’ reach and hid in a small cupboard. Sirius, his fight with Molly forgotten, noticed Ed in the doorway as he straightened from his sudden lunge.

“Edward! Come on in! Molly’s making breakfast,” Sirius said, waving him over.

Molly turned, bringing a pan of sizzling sausages to the table. “I’ve got some eggs and toast too, love. Eat quickly so we can get an early start. It’d be nice if we could beat the crowds.”

Ed glanced quizzically at Sirius, but the man was busy glaring at the cupboard that hid the house elf’s nest, so he couldn’t catch his eye.

“What do you mean an early start? Are we going somewhere?” Ed ventured.

Molly continued pattering about the kitchen. “Of course, dear, didn’t Dumbledore tell you? We’ve got to pick up your supplies for class.”

Sirius dropped his fork.

“Class?”

Ed immediately felt like a jerk. He never told Sirius that he would be leaving with the kids.

He swallowed his bite and said hesitantly, “I’m teaching the class, not taking it. I guess Dumbledore didn’t tell you when he was here yesterday?”

Sirius shook his head forlornly. “He didn’t stick around after the stone fiasco.”

“Well, you are still going to teach alchemy, aren’t you?” Molly interjected, “Dumbledore said you taught yourself the art when you were young, though you’re still young. Too young to be a professor in my opinion, but Dumbledore said you offered. He said you’d just love the library; Hermione certainly loves the place. It’s the largest magical library in existence, did you know? With all the time you spend hiding in the Black library, I’m sure you could find some interesting things to study,” Molly prattled, barely pausing to breathe, let alone give Ed the time to answer her initial question, “We should be able to get everything you need in Diagon Alley, although I’ll admit, I don’t know the first thing about what you need for alchemy. It would be a huge help to have someone go with me though. I need to get the children’s supplies as well. Luckily, we only have four to pay for this year, but Hermione will have so many books, and Ron is getting a broom. That’s going to cost a pretty Knut.”

She continued muttering to herself about everything on her shopping list as she left to wake the children to give them chores to do while she was gone.

Ed glanced at Sirius.

“I’m not calling you ‘Professor’.” Said Sirius, hiding a grin.

Ed let his grin blossom on his face. “I can live with that.”

Chapter Text

A half hour later, Edward found himself riding the most atrocious mode of magical transportation ever invented, and he rode cleaning equipment to Grimmauld Place.

Molly insisted that they were perfectly safe, but Ed’s knuckles were whiter than a blizzard at Briggs from his death grip on the railings as the Knight Bus careened down the pavement. When the abominable shuttle finally let him escape, Ed was off that thing faster than you could say, “transmutation”. Pausing to catch his breath while Mrs. Weasley paid their fare, Ed vowed to never trust a wizard with transportation again. He was going to take the damn train to the Pigpimples school, even if he had to transmute one himself.

He hoisted his bag a little higher on his shoulder and followed Mrs. Weasley into the dingy little pub that was apparently where they would do their shopping? Ed was confused.

“Mrs. Weasley! Good to see you. Good to see you. Here for the next year’s round of books for the young’uns?” the innkeeper asked as he waddled past, doing whatever it is that innkeepers do.

“Yes, Tom. Another year,” she answered back kindly.

“You’ve got one less in the nest now, though, don’t you?”

Ed noticed her lips tighten a bit and recalled the young secretary outside the Minister’s office.

“Yes, one less. They grow up a little faster than I’d like.”

“That they do, that they do,” the man answered back, waving them deeper into the inn.

Mrs. Weasley guided Edward towards the back of the establishment. When they exited out the back door, Ed was expecting to see a street full of shops and people based on the noise, but it was only a brick wall. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and, after a little muttering, lightly tapped one of the bricks. Ed realized he was starting to lose his ability to be shocked when he barely batted an eye as the bricks wriggled away to form an archway and reveal the cobblestone street he originally expected.

“Why make it so complicated?” he asked, curious.

“That’s so muggles can’t wander in, dear. Gringotts first?”

Ed shrugged, not knowing what it was. He was pretty sure he had heard it before, but he had learned so much about the wizarding world in the past month that he couldn’t remember what it was.

He remembered when he saw it.

Gringotts was the bank that had been broken into Harry’s first year. He’s glad he remembered Harry’s jumbled and chaotic stories from late nights on Privet Drive, because he’s sure he would have freaked out at the goblins if he hadn’t. Those things were ugly. Mrs. Weasley walked up to the nearest open teller, and Edward meekly followed the capable woman, not liking the way that all the goblins were staring at him. It creeped him out. Usually, when people stared, they were whispering, not silently staring into his soul.

“Hello. I need to visit a few vaults today, and exchange some mug-,” Mrs. Weasley started, but the goblin, Rognuff, interrupted her without even looking up from what was on his desk.

“Vault key and signed permission from the vault owner.”

Mrs. Weasley handed over three little keys and three envelopes, and the goblin finally looked up. His eyes narrowed when he saw Ed, and despite himself, Ed took a defensive step back. Rognuff finally broke eye contact to look over the items he was given, but Ed could still feel the gazes of half the goblins in the room. He was starting to feel on edge.

“Will Mr. Flamel be visiting his vault today?” the goblin asked, and Mrs. Weasley did a double take.

“Wait, Flamel?” the witch followed the goblin’s line of sight to see him addressing not her, but Ed.

He facepalmed.

He totally forgot that his dad went by Nicholas Flamel in England.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s see what the old man left me.”

With a nod, Rognuff left his desk, gesturing for the two to follow. He led them into one of the small offices that lined the wall and left them there with brief instructions to wait.

“Edward, what does he mean, Flamel? Like Nicholas Flamel?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ed squirmed under her gaze. She was definitely a mother. “Yeah, turns out we’re actually related?”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Well isn’t it a small world?”

Ed couldn’t help but scowl. “Unfortunately.”

Mrs. Weasley was silent after that, as Rognuff returned, bearing a small sack that he offered to Mrs. Weasley.

“The exchanged currency.”

“Thank you.”

“Your hand.”

Ed hesitantly offered his right hand to the goblin holding out his own to him and was instantly regretful when the goblin swiped the blade of a long, ornate dagger across his index finger faster than a striking snake.

“Son of a—!”

Rognuff ignored the blonde to inspect the now softly glowing blade. The sharp Goblin steel had a golden light about it that was reflected in the gold of the hilt. With a signature curt nod, the goblin tucked the dagger away into its ornate box.

Sucking on his finger to stop the bleeding, Ed scowled. His right hand was still a little bit more sensitive than his left, even after all these years, due to the reattached nerves. Couldn't the bugger have nicked his left hand?

“Follow me please.”

The two followed silently, both afraid to utter a peep in case the goblins decided to do something worse than check a blood seal.

“Griphook will take you to your vaults.”

Ed recognized the name but decided not to say anything. He didn’t want to find out that showing familiarity with a Gringotts goblin was an insult to them or something. They followed him through a short series of tunnels before they were instructed to climb into a rickety looking cart.

Ed preferred the Knight Bus.

When the nightmare cart finally stopped, Ed glared at the grin on Griphook’s face. The goblin pulled out one of the keys Mrs. Weasley had surrendered earlier, opening the door in the side of the cavern wall. Ed peeked inside the vault to see a small pile of coins in the center of a small room. Mrs. Weasley scooped the whole pile into another little money bag like the one Rognuff gave her.

“I’ve never seen coins like these. What are they?” Ed asked, inspecting the coins over her shoulder.

“Well, the gold one is a Galleon, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts.”

Ed didn’t want to tell her that that wasn’t much help, but Griphook explained the currency as they climbed back into the cart. While they were speeding down again and Ed was trying not to let his breakfast make a comeback, Griphook was shouting exchange rates over the noise of the tracks. By the time they made it to the next vault, Ed had a pretty good grasp on the worth of each coin compared to cenz.

The next vault was full of gold coins, with piles of silver and mountains of bronze. Ed’s eyebrows rose. Whose vault was this? Molly answered his unspoken question when she started labeling the money bags she had with a spell.

‘Harry’s loaded.’

The next vault was even deeper, and Ed was starting to feel the chill. This vault was the Hogwarts vault, and Dumbledore had instructed Molly to take out a reasonable amount to finance Ed’s classroom supplies. Ed had no clue what wizards charged for the basic elements, or even for pencils and paper, but he assumed that the sack of gold Mrs. Weasley handed him was far more than he would need for class. He knew he wouldn’t have a decent textbook for his students if the wizarding world all thought that alchemy was about the stone.

“Now to the young Hohenheim’s vault.”

Ed wasn’t allowed his double-take at Griphook’s words because the cart started moving again and he didn’t want to get whiplash. The cart was moving faster and faster as it sped deeper and deeper into the earth. Mrs. Weasley had never been down this far before. Various different paths branched away on occasion, and Ed could have sworn he saw a burst of flames down one, but they continued straight down.

When they finally stopped and Ed deemed it safe to open his mouth without his stomach jumping out of it, he rounded on Griphook, demanding, “How the hell did you know that name? My father went by Flamel on this continent.”

Ed was very unsatisfied with the smirk he received as an answer, but no amount of wheedling seemed to get him anywhere. Irritated, he turned to see the vault, but was surprised to see nothing but stone wall all along the path.

“Where’s the door? Isn’t this the vault?”

Griphook ignored his questions again to pull out the dagger that Rognuff had sliced Ed’s finger with. The blade was still glimmering, giving off a faint light. The goblin calmly waddled up to the wall of rock and stabbed the blade into a paper-thin crack in the stone. Cracks in the rock wall began glowing, spreading out from the blade, until the vague shape of a door was outlined in ancient goblin magic. Griphook turned the handle of the dagger like a key, and the group could hear the faint clang of latches unhinging for the first time in years. With a hiss, the stone wall creaked open, revealing the vault behind it.

Chapter Text

“Edward…”

Ed didn’t blame Mrs. Weasley for being speechless. He’s pretty sure about four of the Hogwarts vaults wouldn’t quite equal his father’s… his vault.

He thought Harry was loaded. He could buy Central Headquarters and everyone in it with this, Ed thought, estimating the amount in the vault and converting it to cenz.

“Master Hohenheim was Gringotts’ first investor and patron in 1474. He was a personal friend of our founder, Gringotts,” Griphook explained, “He didn’t start going by Flamel until the early 1500s when he helped foster relations between the wizards and goblinfolk after the last war.”

“I guess the interest just piled up, huh?” Ed mumbled, looking around. He meandered through the mountain range of coins, letting Mrs. Weasley and Griphook to their own devices. When he reached the far wall, he was surprised to find a staircase. Curious, he followed it, trudging up the sloping stone steps. The staircase led to another room. This room was full of something far more valuable to Ed than gold.

It was full of books.

Floor to ceiling shelves held all kinds of books, from ancient tomes to more recent works like a World War II Encyclopedia. In the middle of the room were tables and much smaller shelves that held trinkets and artifacts. He gazed at them all, intrigued. There, was a goblet from the middle ages, there, a jade urn that looked Xingese in origin, and there, a gold signet ring.

Gingerly, Ed lifted the ring. At first, he thought it was the Flamel, but he realized that the cross was not a cross but the outline of a bird. The tail of the bird was long and trailing, and the multiple wings of the bird were stretched out to resemble the outline of the cross. In place of the wings above the snake, the ring had small lightning bolts, and the snake could be seen held in the bird’s beak. The crown at the top of the symbol was still there.

Ed couldn’t explain it, but he felt like this symbol was the original, and the Flamel was a cheap imitation. Looking around, he could see the bird Flamel on several books, even the rug under his feet had the bird image. If he had to give an educated guess, he’d say that this bird was a thunderbird. That would explain the legend from the book in the Black family library. He continued looking around, entranced, when he noticed a door in one wall. Curious, he pulled the glass prophecy from his pocket.

“Hey, Zena, just how far does this vault go?”

“If I remember correctly, there were five rooms in total.”

“Anything I could help you with?”

The sudden, squeaky voice behind him made Ed jump nearly a meter in the air, having been preoccupied when the goblin had slipped up the stairs.

“Don’t do that.”

“My apologies.”

Ed rolled his eyes. He trusted that apology about as far as he could throw Armstrong.

Olivier, not Alex. Alex, he had knocked through a few walls during their sparring.

“What’s in the other three rooms?” he asked, pocketing the orb, but keeping his hand wrapped around it so he could still hear Zena.

“I believe your father kept a few creature comforts that the head goblin keeps updated.”

Griphook paused a moment before speaking, “I have never seen them myself, but I’m told they hold simple living quarters: a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette.”

The two shared an equally curious look before Ed pulled open the next door.

It was a living space all right, but it wasn’t simple. Ed didn’t want to think about what could fit in the two-ton, shiny refrigerator, the bathtub could house Atlantis, and the bed was large enough to need two zip codes all to itself.

“I was told that the honorable Hohenheim would stay down here for weeks on end, so Gringotts furnished him with living quarters. I was not expecting modern muggle appliances like a Keurig.”

“The bastard always did like his coffee.”

When the two made it back to the door, they found poor Mrs. Weasley awkwardly yet patiently waiting by the entrance.

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I didn’t mean to take so long,” Ed apologized, taking a few kilos of Galleons on his way and throwing them in his bag, then going back for more, his mind scheming.

“It’s quite alright, dear,” the angel of a woman said, “If you ever need to come back, I’m sure we could arrange it.”

Ed nodded, following her out of the vault. To his surprise, when the vault doors closed, they were no longer the camouflaged grey stone they were before. Now, they were beautifully carved bronze and silver, the flickering light of Griphook’s torch throwing the edges of the carvings into sharp shadow. Griphook pulled the key from the lock, handing it to Ed, who quickly recognized the blood red ruby on the key as belonging to the hilt of the dagger from the start of their visit.

“Does this mean I don’t have to get stabbed every time I visit the vault?” Ed asked, checking to see that the bandage Mrs. Weasley had conjured was still wrapped neatly around his finger.

“The vault was blood sealed,” the goblin explained over the roar of the cart as they were whisked back to civilization, “Master Flamel sealed it a decade ago. As long as you do not seal it as well, all you need is your key.”

When they reached the front lobby again, Ed exchanged some of his wizard money for British pounds, not wanting to have to resort to counterfeiting again when he had other, more legal, options. He was happy to note that his estimated exchange rate months ago was actually pretty close. Mrs. Weasley said she was heading outside, needing some air after the mine shafts, so Ed set up a quick transfer.

“As many Galleons as you can fit in their vault. There’s no point in it just sitting there and gathering dust. Oh, and this can all go back in the Hogwarts vault too. I don’t need it.”

Rognuff merely grinned behind his desk as he made the exchange, sending the order for the transfer of funds from the Hohenheim vault to the Weasleys’.

Satisfied, with pockets heavy with wizard and Muggle money, Ed met Mrs. Weasley outside, squinting against the sun after his time in the bank.

“Ready to go shopping now, dear?”

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Mrs. Weasley decided to start their shopping at Ollivander’s to get Ed’s wand, but Ed still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. After reading through the books in the Black library on magical theory, he understood mostly how it worked in relation to the Law of Equivalent Exchange, but compared to the magic he had seen in Ishval, the magic here was far more advanced. He wasn’t too keen on carrying the equivalent of a bomb in his pocket all day.

The little shop she led him to definitely gave credit to the sign “Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.” The place looked ready to crumble it was so old and dingy. The inside was much better. The place reminded him of a library and set him at ease. He could feel the thrum of energy coming from hundreds of wands lining the dusty shelves, and the energy sung through the air, but it wasn’t chaotic like alchemical energy. It was a quiet hum under his skin, in the back of his mind, like a word on the tip of your tongue. While alchemic energy was a raging rapid, the magic flowing around him now was a slow, quiet river, calmly plodding along.

If it weren’t for the owner of the shop popping up from behind the counter and scaring the living daylights out of him, he could have gotten lost in the feeling.

As it was, he was breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through his veins, because the shopkeeper had a flair for the dramatic.

“Ah! 10 ½ inches, beech, Dragon heartstring. I trust you’ve taken good care of it?” the mystery man asked.

Ed had no clue what he was talking about, but Mrs. Weasley obviously did.

“Yes, I have. It has served me well,” she answered.

Ed tried not to stare, but this guy was nuts. He really needed to get a brush, because his wispy white hair looked like a rat’s nest, and his eyes looked ready to pop out of his head behind his spectacles when they landed on Ed.

“My my, I haven’t had an alchemist in my shop in over half a century.”

“How…?”

Ed was very confused. How on earth did he know just from looking at him?!

“You wear the Flamel.”

Right. He really ought to change that soon.

“Well, Mr. Ollivander, we’re here for a wand for Edward. Ed dear, step on up. He’ll get you sorted. I’m going to pop over to Magical Menagerie to get treats for Errol and Pig, alright?”

Ed nodded, watching her set off with purpose. When he turned back around, he startled at Ollivander’s nose suddenly centimeters from his.

“You’re an interesting one. Never had a wand? Let’s start at the beginning then. Which arm is your wand arm?”

Ed blinked, then raised his right hand tentatively. “This one? I can write with both hands, though, kinda." Ed muttered, "Mustang always complained about how horrible my handwriting on reports was.” Ed thought back to his days when his arm was metal, and not capable of fine motor control. Let's see Mustang lose a dominant arm and keep his fine penmanship.

“Ambidextrous,” the wizard mumbled as he darted back to the shelves, pulling boxes from them seemingly at random, “Haven’t had one of those in a while either.”

Ed was startled by movement next to his hand, and he glanced down to see a tape measure measuring his hand on its own! He gave a noise of surprise and tried to swat it away, but the persistent little bugger kept coming back. When Ollivander came back, a stack of boxes in hand, the tape was measuring the space between his ears.

“That’s enough, shoo,” he said, waving the tape away, “Now, try this one first.”

He held out a long, thin box with an ornately carved stick inside. Gingerly, Ed picked it up. He could feel the energy of the wand roiling under his hand, and he got the distinct impression that the stick in his hand very much did not like him.

“Elm, 11 ½ inches, dragon heartstring, pliable. Give it a wave.”

Ed shook his head, dropping the wand back in its box. “I don’t like that one, and I don’t think it likes me.”

Ollivander gave him a strange look but closed up the box anyway.

“Yew, 12 inches, unicorn tail hair, bendy.”

This wand was not as rude as the last, but it still left a strange tingle in his hand.

“Not this one, either.”

On and on it went, holding wands and turning them down without so much as a flick. Mrs. Weasley came back at some point to see the mountain of discarded wands and quickly set out to do more shopping while Ed was occupied. They went through dozens upon dozens of wands; Ed had lost count. Despite the struggle, Ollivander seemed to get more and more excited. It was like a tricky customer made him happy for some reason.

Suddenly, Ed stopped. The wand in his hand was Redwood, which was apparently really unusual, with a Phoenix tail feather, 12 ½ inches long. The hum in the wood was significantly less resistant to him, so he decided to give it a wave.

The wand tingled in his hand, and the vase in the corner exploded.

“Nope! Not it!” Ed said, his voice strained, gingerly setting it back in the box.

Ollivander was giving him that calculating look, making Ed squirm. He really didn’t like when people were contemplating him while in his presence. It made him feel awkward and defensive.

“Let me try something.”

Ed rolled his eyes as he watched Ollivander scurry into the back, returning with another collection of boxes. It’s not like the man hadn’t been trying things for the last hour.

“You were comfortable enough with that one to give it a wave, so let’s try a few more.”

Redwood, dragon heartstrings, 11 inches, no.

Redwood, unicorn hair, 11 ½ inches, no.

Ebony, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches, no.

Cherry, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches, no.

Dogwood, Phoenix tail feather, 13 inches, nope definitely not.

The last box he had brought out was a wand made in America, wherever that was, and had a Thunderbird feather core in a Redwood casing, 13 ½ inches, unyielding.

As soon as he touched it, he knew this was the one.

The energies in the wands so far had been in the wand and only in the wand. The life force in this wand danced up his arm, sung through his veins, and tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. He felt alive from head to toe. With the dramatic flair he was known for, he raised it high, then brought it swishing down in a wide arc. To his surprise, blue lightning akin to alchemic energy flew from the tip, crackling through the air.

Ed laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“How ironic. A thunderbird core.”

Ollivander leveled his most serious look at him.

“This is a very powerful wand, boy. It is not a toy. Do not take it lightly. If you take care of it, it will take care of you.”

Ed scoffed. “I know it’s not a toy. It’s a conduit for a magic-user to pull life-force energy we call 'magic' from nature to use as a power source for each spell.”

Ollivander blinked, then squinted.

“You’re a smart one. Keep at it and you’ll do great things.” He cocked his head to the side as Ed stared him down defiantly. “Not necessarily good, but definitely great.”

Ed scowled. “I came for a wand, not a life lesson.”

Ollivander scowled as well.

“Twelve Galleons.”

Ed paid for his wand, pocketed it, and headed out to find Mrs. Weasley, leaving the judgmental old man to himself.

Chapter Text

Ed wandered the streets a while, glancing in shops, looking for Mrs. Weasley. He paused at Madam Malkin’s Robes for all occasions to get a few bolts of fabric, tucking them into one of the simple, reusable, extended bags advertised by the register. He could make a few more changes of clothes and a new coat that didn’t show off the Flamel. He was hoping the coat would be close enough to a robe to pass, because there was no way he was wearing one of those ridiculous things. He stopped at Scribbulus Writing Implements but couldn’t find anything other than quills.

No way was he writing with a quill either.

Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary was his next stop, but before he bought anything, he stepped next door at Slug and Jiggers to compare prices. When he did start purchasing elements, it took him a little while to get the shopkeepers to understand that he didn’t want anything enchanted. He just wanted straight copper. He didn’t want it to be some funky copper that never tarnished or something. It took him even longer to convince them he was a professor so they would send the supplies to Hogwarts.

When Ed left the apothecaries behind with his purchases set to be delivered to Hogwarts, the hairs on the back of his neck were tap dancing. He knew that feeling. Someone was watching him. Discretely, he glanced around.

‘One, blonde, long hair, tall, maybe 185 centimeters, green cloak, cane. Are they following me?’

Without letting on that he was watching, he turned down a narrow alley, calculating the time necessary. When he judged the time right, he darted back out of the alley. As planned, he knocked into the someone who was following him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Ed apologized, the habitual half-bow he gave practically a neon sign that he wasn’t from those parts.

“First time in London?”

Ed nodded, “Ed, Edward Elric.”

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Malfoy?! Ed tried not to show he recognized the name, but he didn’t think he succeeded.

“And what is a student like yourself doing hanging around the entrance to Knockturn Alley?” Lucius drawled, his lip curled like a cat in front of a pail of milk, just waiting to lick the cream.

Ed scowled. He was not up for this. He knew his target. That’s all he needed.

“I’m not a student.”

Without any further explanation, Ed sidestepped the man and left. Hoping to put some distance between the character following him and himself, he ducked into the first building he came to. Looking around, he realized it must be a secondhand book shop, based on the state of the books filling the shelves all around him. He wandered around, inspecting the titles and occasionally snagging one to glance through. A fair number he kept in his arms, intending to purchase them. He found a few on magical theory that weren’t in the Black library, as well as a few he recognized from Harry’s stash. He would need his own copies. Eventually, his arms were laden again, so he picked a deserted corner to amass them in. The stack slowly got higher and higher, but he was getting more and more excited with every book he found. He had just pulled a large tome that had definitely seen better days when Mrs. Weasley called his name.

“Oh, Edward, you got your wand?” Ed nodded in reply, flicking the book open and skimming the first few pages. It looked like an interesting read about the magical properties of certain plants. “Are you getting a few books too, dear?”

Again, Ed nodded, pointing toward his stack in the corner. “Got ‘em stacked up.”

Molly’s eyes widened at the stack that came up to her waist.

“That’s quite the stack.”

Ed grunted in response, absorbed in yet another book.

“Well, dear, I’m going to pick up some books for the children. Enjoy yourself.”

“You can stack them with mine,” Ed mumbled, flipping a page.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, starting her own, significantly smaller stack next to Ed’s. After a few minutes of searching, she found all she needed.

“Are you about done, dear? I’m going to check out now.”

Ed snapped the book in his hand shut, adding it to his stack.

“Let’s go then,” he stated, somehow managing to lift the whole pile without dropping a single book.

The two walked to the desk, but Ed turned to Mrs. Weasley when they got to the front of the line.

“Mrs. Weasley, I totally forgot, I was going to grab a copy of that one,” he said, gesturing with his chin to the top book in her arms. It was one of the books on Harry’s list of new schoolbooks: Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard.

“Take this one, dear. I’ll go grab another. Thankfully there are quite a few.” She set down her pile of books near the register and ducked away to find the book.

“I’ll take all these,” Ed told the clerk, placing his own books on the counter, then hefting Mrs. Weasley’s onto the counter as well.

Luckily, he had an experienced clerk, so the transaction was just finishing by the time she got back.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

Ed handed over the last book and a sack of Galleons, then scooped all his books into the reusable, extendible bag he got free with his large order. Those bags sure were handy. With a parting wink to the clerk, Ed started towards the exit, laden with his purchases. Mrs. Weasley didn't move, looking for the books she had left by the counter.

“Excuse me,” she said to the clerk, “There were some books that I set here for just a moment. Do you know what happened to them?”

The clerk grinned. He knew Mrs. Weasley well, since she was such a loyal customer, and it made him happy to see someone caring for her and her family.

“I’m sorry, Molly. That young man over there bought them. Do you want a hand collecting the titles again?” he asked, knowing full well she didn’t need them anymore.

“Oh, um, no, that’s… that’s quite all right. Thank you, dear.”

The befuddled woman quickly caught up with Ed.

“Ed, dear, did you buy my books?” she asked sternly. She was grateful that the boy wanted to help out, but she didn’t want to be dependent like that. She hoped he would understand.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ed chuckled, schooling his expression just right, “I just kept handing him books without realizing which books I was handing over. It’s okay,” he added as she moved to pay him back, “Think of it as payment for feeding and housing me for all this time.”

The woman frowned but conceded, and Ed couldn’t stop grinning.

A few moments later, the two are looking over brooms.

“This one is the latest model,” the saleswitch beamed proudly.

“I’ll take it.”

Molly stared at Ed. He was getting a broom? She thought he disliked flying.

They packaged up the Firebolt, and Ed handed over the Galleons for it. Molly couldn’t help but stare. That pile of coins was more than her husband made in a year.

When he had finished and had the broom in hand, he turned to Mrs. Weasley.

“Where to next?”

She blinked. ‘Oh, he didn’t.’

“Edward, dear, you’re not buying Ron’s broom. I let the books slide, but this is far too much. You should be using your money for yourself,” she said firmly.

Ed frowned. How to work this?

“Mrs. Weasley, if I may be so blunt, I’m rich; you saw the vault. When my brother and I were kids, we were dirt poor orphans. We didn’t have much. I don’t need all that money. Never have, never will. The thing that would make me happiest right now is buying Ron a broom. Let me have a little happiness at least.”

And darn it if she didn’t cave as soon as he started the puppy dog eyes. Guilt trip works every time.

“Just don’t tell Ron I bought it.”

“Only if you don’t make a habit of this.”

Oh yeah, the cat definitely got the cream.

Speaking of which…

Ed almost tripped as a tan tabby wound around his legs.

Good thing Al wasn’t there, or he would definitely go home with a new cat.

He watched as the cat sauntered back to the Magical Menagerie. The owls in the window gave him an idea. Maybe he should get an owl to send home. Now he was just feeling homesick.

‘Al would be tickled pink at a magical cat.’

“Thinking of getting an owl?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ed nodded, so she marched across the street, following the tan and black cat. The shop was crowded with animals.  The owls were all beautiful, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a beautiful off white, with striped patterns on its feathers. His orange eyes were watching Ed who couldn’t stop laughing at the bird’s ear tufts. Luckily for Ed, the bird seemed to enjoy the attention. He cocked his head, back and forth, making his tufts tilt from side to side.

“Definitely this one,” Ed said, but before he could find a clerk, the tabby from earlier jumped from a shelf to Ed’s left and landed on Ed’s shoulders. Holding still so as not to dislodge the feline, Ed sighed in defeat. “Guess I’m getting a cat too. Al will be thrilled.” He couldn’t stop the soft smile creeping up on his face as he thought of his brother and the eighty thousand cats he always tried to take home.

By the time they found the clerk, the cat had made itself perfectly comfortable on his broad shoulders. This made the clerk very nervous. The cat had gotten into the habit of attacking customers, and the poor clerk thought Ed would be next on the list of victims.

“You see, it’s a mixed breed. Half Abyssinian, half Mngwa. The Mngwa’s an African jungle cat, but no one has ever actually seen one, well, not a pure-bred one. They’re super sly and super deadly, so people who find one usually end up dead.”

Ed glanced into the yellow eyes of the cat on his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

The clerk blinked at him and so did the cat. He could swear the look she was giving him was exactly the kind that Winry would level at him when she was severely unimpressed.

“I’ll take her. The owl with the ears too.”

“Ah, that’s the Eurasian Eagle Owl. He’s a beauty.”

Ed picked out a cage and the necessary food and supplies, getting all the things he may need. He got the cat a little bed, a few toys, and some catnip, and the owl got a sturdy little stand for his cage and some treats. He decided to call the owl Argentum and the cat Aurum. Argi and Auri for short.

The clerk thought it was brilliant, despite not knowing a lick of Latin. Ed was pretty sure the guy was just glad to be rid of the cat.

Now laden with pet supplies, a cage with an owl, and a cat on his shoulders, Ed followed Mrs. Weasley back to the pub they came through. A few minutes later, they were back in Muggle London. Before Mrs. Weasley could flag the Knight bus, Ed stopped her.

“Mrs. Weasley, I need a few things from Muggle London. Could I meet you back at Siri… er, Snuffles’ house later?”

He was glad he stopped before he said Sirius’ name. Who knows who could be listening? Malfoy had stopped following him a while ago, but one could never be too careful.

“That’s fine, dear. Want me to take your things home?”

Ed nodded and helped her get everything onto the knight bus. He told Argi where to go and let him loose, and Mrs. Weasley shrunk all of his other purchases overflowing from his bag extendible bags and tucked them in her own.

Unfortunately, Auri was adamant that she was staying with her new owner. Ed scolded her for hissing, but he agreed that he could keep her with him for now. With a smile and a wave, he watched the Knight bus zoom away.

“Now, Auri, let’s find some normal pencils and paper.”

Chapter Text

Auri was unsurprisingly uncivil to all who approached her, but Ed had learned a thing or two about controlling uncontrollable troublemakers from his brother. After all, Al was a master of the art. He had managed to keep Ed from bashing heads many times over the years.

Maybe the cat was a bad idea. She kept reminding him of Al and Winry and the fact that they weren’t there with him. It was making him homesick. Walking up the steps to the house, he decided to write a letter to Al on the train ride in two days. He wasn’t really sure what to say to Winry. He’s glad now that he didn’t take her with him. Otherwise, she would have to deal with all the crazy he was dealing with.

He had spent a decent amount of time doubling back and ducking through alleys to be reasonably certain he wasn’t being followed, so it was late evening by the time he made it back to Grimmauld Place. Deftly, his knuckles rapped on the door. He had only struck the wood twice before the door was wrenched open and he was whisked inside.

“I was so worried, dear! I thought you’d got lost or attacked or something dreadful!” Mrs. Weasley cried, pulling him into a bear hug.

Auri did not appreciate the jostle, and she expressed her displeasure with a low growl. Before the cat struck, Ed extracted himself from the hug, thanking the woman for her worries.

“The meeting just started, dear. Run your things upstairs and come join us in the kitchen.”

Ed’s brow crinkled in confusion. What meeting was she talking about?

“If you aren’t staying in this room,” Ed whispered harshly, “Then you had better play nice. No growling.”

He glanced at the beds, but both boys looked to still be asleep. He didn’t blame them. It was already past midnight and they had a busy day tomorrow packing for a year at Pigpimples. He wanted to just let them sleep.

Auri purred, pleased that her new slave understood her demand. Sighing, Ed headed back downstairs. He heard muffled shouting coming from the kitchen, and the shadows playing in the light under the door showed it to be the location for the meeting. As soon as Ed pushed the door open, the heated argument that was muffled behind the door attacked his senses. Auri tensed on her perch on his shoulders, as Ed cringed.

“-way Harry would be okay with this! Guess it doesn’t matter since you never ask him what he wants anyway!”

“He’s just a boy! He’s not James! You can’t expect him to handle things the way James would! He’s an orphaned teenager who lived with the worst kind of muggles his whole life. He doesn’t need even more to worry about!”

“If he doesn’t know, he’ll worry more! You’ve met him, he’s curious. He’ll start investigating and get himself killed because we didn’t trust him with something he has a right to know!”

“Hello Edward.”

Lupin’s quiet acknowledgment ended Sirius and Molly’s heated discussion as they both turned to him.

“You’ve gotten close to Harry, right dear? Would you think he’s old enough to fight in this war?” Molly demanded.

Ed held his hands up in surrender. “I just got here. No clue what’s going on.”

“Sirius and Molly,” Dumbledore started from his seat in the corner, the amused twinkle in his eye working double time as he tried to limit the amusement showing on his features, “were discussing the pros and cons of allowing young Harry to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

Ed noticed that Dumbledore was looking him in the eye again. ‘Interesting.’

“That’s your little band against Moldywart, right?”

Lupin’s sudden coughing fit sounded suspiciously like laughter, and the greasy-haired Snape had the expression of one who had recently eaten a lemon. Dumbledore nodded, the twinkle in his eye twitching along with the corner of his mouth.

Ed frowned. What was so funny?

“Seems to me like you’re all idiots.”

The room was silent.

“Sirius, why the hell do you want Harry to fight? Do you want him to sacrifice himself for someone he loves the same way his parents did? You should know him enough by now to know that he would die for anyone in this room before thinking about himself.”

Sirius looked like he desperately wanted to argue but knew he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

“Molly, I’m sorry. I know you want to protect him, but speaking from experience, keeping secrets gets people killed. Harry is young, but not young enough. He’s got a mass murderer on his tail, and ignorance is only bliss if it doesn’t kill you.”

Everyone in the room fidgeted awkwardly, but Ed held his ground.

“I’m not saying to let Harry join your little revolution, but you shouldn’t keep him in the dark when his life is at stake.”

“I wonder,” Dumbledore started, and everyone turned to him, “If you would say the same thing if you had all the information.”

Ed raised an eyebrow, silently ordering Dumbledore to supply that missing information, but he did not. He simply smiled a very sad smile, the twinkle in his eyes a mere shadow of the life they had moments before.

“I wonder,” Snape interjected, “Why this young man is here to say anything at all? He is a foreigner with no ties to either side in this battle.” Auri snarled quietly, glaring at him.

“You say battle,” Ed mumbled softly, “But have any of you watched as a man’s brains splattered all over the pavement?”

Molly gasped, as did Tonks, if he remembered her name correctly.

“Your magic can do many things, but so can my alchemy,” he turned to Dumbledore as he spoke, “You want me to teach children younger than Harry a discipline that has more military uses than any other discipline, yet you won’t tell him information that could save his life? I like Harry. I don’t want him dead. If I am going to convince you crackpots that you can’t leave him in the dark, I must be here to say anything at all.” He ended his speech glaring at Snape, daring him to question him again.

“I’m sorry, but some of us haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Mr. …?” a severe looking woman asked. She reminded him of Olivier.

Snapping into a salute without dislodging the cat on his shoulders, he barked, “Major General Edward Elric of the Amestrian Military, Fullmetal State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador,” softening his tone he continued, “I’ve been a soldier in my country’s military for nearly a decade. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“A decade!” Lupin interjected.

“They let children in the military?!” Molly asked, horrified.

Ed chuckled, “Well, Amestris has a different system than what I’ve seen here. We have alchemists in our military, people who can do what I do. It's similar to wandless magic, and to join the military as a State Alchemist, you have to pass a written exam, a physical, and a presentation of your skills. They thought the exam was hard enough to limit who made it through, but I passed it when I was twelve.”

Snape scoffed, but Ed just scowled.

“There have been people who devoted their whole life to research, but they didn’t pass the exam. It’s not easy stuff.”

“And you want this taught at Hogwarts, Albus?” the severe woman asked.

Ed raised an eyebrow. The way she asked the question made it sound like him teaching was all Dumbledore’s idea.

Dumbledore regarded Ed for a moment, then nodded. “I am always interested in furthering our students’ studies.”

Ed let his eyebrow drop. He would definitely be questioning Dumbledore on his behavior at the earliest opportunity.

“And you want him in the Order as well?” Snape drawled.

“If he accepts, although from what I have gathered, he has.”

Ed snorted. “Sure, I’ll stop a mass murderer. Wouldn’t be the first time. Your little club, though? You really ought to do it a little better. Start by sharing information. Everyone deserves the right to know exactly how, when, and why they will be in danger. You can’t avoid it if you don’t know it’s coming.”

Dumbledore pondered his answer for a moment before turning to Snape. “You can teach him for me, can’t you?”

Ed glanced around and saw that he was not the only one completely lost. Snape’s expression made Ed think Dumbledore said the equivalent of, “I can pie you in the face, right?”

“... I will.”

“Good. I shall discuss it with Harry tomorrow night. They leave for Hogwarts the day after.”

That seemed to be the signal to end the meeting, because everyone started getting up and leaving. Ed wanted to ask Dumbledore just what on earth he was thinking and find out the information he was supposedly missing, but the man had left in the blink of an eye. The woman that reminded him of Olivier seemed to want to talk with him, so he stepped aside and waited for her to introduce herself.

“You will be teaching your alchemy at Hogwarts?” she asked.

Ed nodded, not sure what to expect. This woman didn’t seem to like him, but that could just be her personality. Perhaps she knew of his stunt at the Ministry, and she didn’t approve. Whatever the case, Ed was treading lightly.

“Minerva McGonagall,” she offered a hand to shake, and Ed hesitantly took it. “I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. I teach transfiguration. If what I understand of your craft is true, our fields are similar. Come join me in my office for tea some time.”

She jumped when Auri hissed at her.

“Auri, I told you to behave!” he said, tapping a finger on her head. He hoped McGonagall wouldn’t hold his new cat’s behavior against him.

The tabby squinted at him, trying to decide if she would grant her slave’s request or not. Ed stared her down. Eventually, she laid back down on his shoulders.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Ed grumbled. Turning back to McGonagall, he said, “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

He was pleased to get a smile in return.

Chapter Text

Ed glanced up from his plate. Molly had been busy getting children ready to leave, so Ed made breakfast for everyone, but he was the only one who seemed to have time to sit down and eat. He didn’t understand what the rush was. Everyone had the previous day to make all last-minute packing arrangements.

He had been hoping to catch what it was Dumbledore spoke to Harry about and what Snape was teaching him, but whatever it was put Harry in a sour mood, so he decided not to ask. Instead, he focused on helping them pack all their things that had somehow managed to spread across the entire house.

Ed was used to traveling, so he had kept most of his things packed during his stay. Yesterday, he also spent a decent amount of time trying to figure out how to use his magic stick to make his suitcase fit everything he had purchased, but despite his new book of charms and his best efforts, his trunk had done everything but undetectably extend. He just couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working! He understood the theory behind it. He understood the mechanics of the spell. He just couldn’t get it to work! Eventually, Sirius had pity on the poor, frustrated alchemist, and charmed it to hold a whole walk-in-closet, with advice to have Professor Flitwick teach him the finer points of charms.

His expanded suitcase now sat by the door, Argi’s empty cage tucked inside, along with all his other recent purchases. He had one of the extended, reusable shopping bags he had gotten at the bookstore tucked in a pocket of his coat, along with the prophecy, his notebook, parchment and pen to write Al a letter on the train, and of course his pocket watch.

He had gotten tired of people recognizing the Flamel on his signature, red trench coat, so he had transmuted it to display the thunderbird crest from his father’s signet ring from the vault. He had gotten pretty good at transmuting clothing after all the times he had torn his old coat to shreds. He kept the signet ring on his left hand, on the only finger that didn't have already have a ring. Each ring on his left hand was made of a different element or compound, and he kept a few bracelets of different elements and compounds on his left wrist. On his right hand, he wore a wide steel ring on each finger, and on his right wrist, he strapped several iron plates, each only about an inch wide, with a thick piece of hemp cord, covering from right below his palm nearly all the way to his elbow. He had gotten tired of the bangles bouncing around and clanking together when they were cleaning rooms, so he opted to change the style to something a little less modern and a little more Medieval. He could also use the iron plates and the carbon in the hemp cord to make steel, which let him keep about five pounds worth of steel on his right arm alone, far more than he had before. The iron plates, fixed in their position as they were, also offered better protection than the clinking bangles did, since the construction was based on pieces from Al's old armor.

Ed just couldn't shake the habit of using his right arm as a shield.

Unlike wizards who needed nothing more than a wand and knowledge, an alchemist was only as good as his materials. Since he was walking into unknown territory and could be fighting a murdering madman at any time, Ed also decided to sneak a few ounces of potassium in its metallic form into the hollowed out sole of his left combat boot, and sulfur in his right. In a worst-case scenario, Ed could transmute the potassium with the nitrogen in the atmosphere to make saltpeter, and use the carbon in the leather of his boots and the sulfur to make an explosion. He would lose his shoes, but he might save a life.

He spent a few hours putting together his new look the day before, but he was quite pleased with the outcome. He couldn't decide if he wanted to keep his gloves or not, since he no longer had a reason to hide his right arm, but he decided to keep them for nostalgic reasons. Perhaps he could include a few, simple circles on the inside of his gloves for quick transmutations, so he had other options besides his clap alchemy or chalk. It may make tricking the wizards easier that way. At the very least, it couldn't hurt to try.

Now, Auri was winding between his legs, somehow managing to not get stepped on, as he carried Ginny’s trunk downstairs. He hadn’t had a whole lot of time spent with Ginny that summer, but he quite liked the young girl. There were times when she reminded him of a younger Winry.

Dropping her trunk by the door next to his own, smaller suitcase, he headed back up the stairs to see if the girls had anything else they needed help carrying. When he reached the girls’ room, an orange ball of fluff shot out the door, barreling straight towards him. Auri let out a hellish snarl from her spot behind his left ankle, and the orange fluff stopped in its tracks long enough for Ed to realize that it was actually the cranky cat, Crookshanks, before turning tail and darting back into the room. Ed chuckled and followed the tabby inside, motioning for Auri to stay outside.

“Anything I can help you lovely ladies with?” Ed asked.

Both girls glanced up from the trunk they were sitting on, trying to force it closed. Ed chuckled. Hermione blushed, jumping up.

“J-just my trunk, but it won’t, ah… it won’t fit.”

Ed raised an eyebrow, an amused grin on his face. He didn’t understand what the look Ginny was giving him was supposed to be, so he just pretended not to notice it.

“You don’t say? Well if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s shoving stuff into places it won’t fit.”

He really didn’t understand why Hermione was the color of a strawberry. Was it that embarrassing to not have a big enough suitcase?

“Let me give you a hand. Job’s too big for just you two.”

Ed ignored the giggles from Ginny and the blush Hermione was sporting. Her blush was nearing radioactive levels. With a bit of strength and a grunt of effort, he managed to close the trunk.

“I’ll go ahead and get yours off. I already got Ginny’s down,” Ed announced, hefting the trunk over his shoulder in one swing, “Oh, by the way. I don’t think Auri likes your tabby. For Crankysticks’ sake, I’d try to keep them apart.”

As Ed rounded the corner, he heard Ginny cackle with laughter, but he couldn’t make out what Hermione was mumbling. Oh well. He felt Auri at his heels again, but as long as Crookshanks didn’t pop out of nowhere, he didn’t mind. He trotted down the stairs, but when he was about to touch down on the last landing, something whizzed behind him.

Instincts kicked in, and Ed dropped his center of gravity, shifted the suitcase so it slid off his shoulder, and swung his left leg around and up behind him, where his boot connected with something heavy and solid. There was a shout from above him, but Ed was too distracted to listen. The trunk that had been zooming down the stairs on Fred’s magic had popped open when Ed’s boot collided with it, and Ed was now standing on the landing, covered in different patterned boxers, surrounded by the other contents of Fred’s luggage. There was a surprising amount of red. Ed wasn’t sure if it was coming from his anger or the Gryffindor boxers in his face.

Harry nearly had a heart attack when Mrs. Black started screeching again. Apparently, the twins had hit Ed with their luggage, and the beating Ed gave them in retaliation had woken Mrs. Black. Everyone was frantically running around trying to get ready, so no one took the time to shut her up.

Harry had seen Ed when he passed the kitchen. He wanted to tell Ed about the lessons Snape was going to give him, but he had been fuming the night before, and hadn’t thought about it. Now, Ed appeared to be just sitting calmly, eating breakfast, but Harry didn’t have time to chat. Harry’s stomach growled, but he didn’t have time to stop and eat either. With a forlorn sigh of regret, he passed through the kitchen to continue searching for his History of Magic textbook that he didn't even remember unpacking.

Finally, after lots of yelling, running, and a few curses from Ron, the verbal kind, not the magical variety, they were on their way out the door. Ed decided to take his own suitcase, despite Molly assuring them between shouts from the painting that Moody would ensure all their luggage made it to the train. The plan was for him, Molly, and Tonks to escort Harry to the train station where they would meet up with the rest of the group.

When Ed reached the sidewalk, he heard Molly shout, “On your own head be it!”

Before he could turn around to see who and what she was yelling about, he heard a sound he dreaded with every fiber of his being.

A happy little bark.

With a huff, a big, midnight black dog bounded out the door, crashing straight into Ed. They both toppled over, luggage thudding onto the sidewalk, while Ed let out an indignant squawk. Harry nearly choked he was laughing so hard. Who needs a power-hungry psychopath on the hunt for your blood when you have friends and family that will kill you with laughter?

“C-come on, Snuffles,” Harry choked out through tears of laughter, “Let poor Ed up.”

With a huff, the dog bounded off Ed to run around the yard. Ed stood slowly, picking up the fallen luggage. With a look of distain, Auri jumped up onto Ed’s shoulders.

“Why do they always do that? Where did that mutt come from?”

Harry, having finally caught his breath, answered, “That’s Snuffles.”

Ed whipped around to watch the dog rolling in the grass. He knew Sirius’s nickname was Snuffles, but he never knew why.

“How?”

“Animagus.”

Ed recalled a passage in one of the books he had skimmed through in the bookshop. It had discussed the process of merging one’s magic to the body of an animal, but the process reminded him of Nina too much for him to add the book to his pile. Maybe he should have read a little more.

“You mean he can become a dog?”

Ed wasn’t sure he wanted a straight answer.

“Yeah. He and my dad did it so they could help Lupin on the full moon. Did I not mention that before?”

Ed shook his head. He definitely would have remembered that detail. Harry’s stories had been a little jumbled and angry when he and Ed were on Privet Drive those few days. It seemed Ed missed some important points.

“Where’s Tonks?” Harry asked of Mrs. Weasley.

“She’s waiting for us just up here,” she answered stiffly.

Ed was surprised to be greeted by a random old lady instead of Tonks when they reached the corner. Ed had developed the habit of watching how people moved after his first encounter with Envy, and he knew the lady didn’t quite walk the way someone that age was supposed to walk. Were they a death eater in disguise?

“Wotcher, Harry.”

It was just Tonks.

“Better hurry up, hadn’t we, Molly?” she added, checking her watch.

“I know, I know,” moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, “but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis… If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again… but Fudge wouldn’t let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days… How Muggles can stand traveling without magic…”

Ed rolled his eyes. Witches and wizards were so lazy.

The walk to the train station only took about twenty minutes. Although he didn’t mind walking, Ed was ready for a nice, relaxing train ride. Sirius had tried barking at Auri, but the cat sent him a glare that could kill, so he had taken to antagonizing Ed for Harry’s entertainment on the way instead.

Or at least, Ed was ready for a nice relaxing train ride until he was told to walk through a wall.

“What.” said Ed, in the most deceased of deadpans.

“Just walk straight between platforms nine and ten. Best to do it at a bit of a run, if you’re nervous. Go with Harry, dear. Tonks, you go first.”

Ed stared at Molly. He stared at the wall. He stared back at Molly. He stared back at the wall just in time to watch Tonks walk straight through the wall like it didn’t exist.

‘Oh Truth.’

Ed took a calming breath, adjusted his grip on his suitcase, and followed Harry into a brick wall.

Chapter Text

The four of them plus the dog didn’t have to wait long before the rest of the group arrived. Ed helped Mad-Eye get all the luggage aboard while the children piled onto the train, all except for Harry, who was giving Sirius a last goodbye. Once everything was settled, Ed slipped back to join the group.

“Everything’s on board and so are the kids. We’re just missing Harry.”

Molly nodded, fighting back tears.

Ed’s face said he knew exactly what was going through her head.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley. No one’s going to hurt your children while I’m around.”

Molly nodded in thanks, not trusting her voice to speak. The whistle sounded. Stepping out of the way, she watched as Harry boarded the Hogwarts express, followed closely by Ed. It would be months before she saw her babies again. She brushed the tears out of her eyes and waved goodbye.

When the station was left behind, Ed turned to his companions, Auri now settled comfortably on his shoulders.

“He really shouldn’t have come,” Hermione whispered.

“He can make the decision to take the risk if he likes. He’s an adult,” Ed grumbled.

Ron nodded, “Yeah, ‘Mione. Besides, poor bloke’s been cooped up too long. I’d go mad if I had to stay in that house any longer.”

Ed glanced around their little group. The twins had already run off.

‘Typical.’

“Alright you lot, let’s find seats.”

“A-actually, well, Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage,” Hermione stammered awkwardly.

Ed noticed Ron wasn’t looking at Harry. He was positive that Ron’s fingernails on his left hand were not that interesting. Harry started picking at his sleeve.

“Oh… right.”

Ed was not about to watch some kind of drama go down in a train corridor.

“Alright, we’ll see you later then,” Ed said, starting down the corridor with Harry’s trunk, “Probably best we don’t force Crabbypants and Auri into a small space together anyway.”

Harry turned to follow, grabbing Hedwig’s cage, glad that he wouldn’t be sitting alone at least.

“Yeah, see you at the feast then. I’ll save you a spot!”

Harry was expecting them to struggle down the corridor, but at some point, Ed had snagged Ginny’s trunk as well, and the blonde was expertly navigating the train carrying luggage for all three of them, without dislodging the cat from his shoulders. Harry was impressed. He was pulled from his admiration of Ed’s strength when he noticed the amount of people staring at him. Usually, people stared at him, but it wasn’t this bad on the first day. Then, Harry remembered The Daily Prophet and all the things it had been telling its readers about him all summer. Everyone probably thought he was a lying show-off, if they believed the stories.

Harry bleakly followed Ed, not paying much attention to where they were going until he heard his name.

“Hi, Harry... Hi, Ginny.”

“Who’s the toad?”

Harry turned to Ed astounded. He just called Neville, one of Harry’s best friends, a toad! What was wrong with him?!

“He’s not a toad! He’s my friend! His name’s Neville,” Harry griped, glaring at Ed.

“Uh, my... my toad’s name is Trevor.”

Harry turned to Neville and actually looked at him. The poor boy’s round face was shining with sweat from the effort of pulling his trunk and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor.

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling his face heat with embarrassment, “Sorry, I didn’t see Trevor.”

“Auri noticed him. Won’t take her eyes off. Don’t lose that toad, kid.”

“Every… everywhere is full, Harry,” Neville panted, giving Ed’s cat a glance and holding Trevor tighter, “I can’t find a seat.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Ginny, who had continued walking while the boys were talking. She was standing in front of the last compartment. “There’s room in this one, there’s only Loony Lovegood in here.”

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb her. Ginny just laughed it off and entered the compartment.

“Hi, Luna,” Ginny said, “Mind if we take these seats?”

Ed glanced over Ginny’s shoulder. The girl by the window had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave the impression she was always surprised. She had her wand stuck behind her left ear for safekeeping, and she had on a necklace of what appeared to be bottlecaps, and she was reading her magazine upside down.

Ed liked her immediately.

“Sorry to burst in on you like this, but the last compartment always has the best people. That’s why it’s my favorite,” Ed quipped, shooting a wink her way.

Luna blinked, her eyes somehow going even wider, then nodded.

“Thanks,” Ginny said, grinning as she walked in.

Ed hefted the three trunks and Hedwig’s cage in the luggage rack. His own, smaller suitcase he left under his seat by the window, and Auri curled up on his lap. He had taken the seat opposite Luna, and was unsurprised to see her staring between him and Harry over her copy of The Quibbler, once they had all settled in. She didn’t seem to blink at all, just stared and stared. Ed figured he might as well strike up a conversation.

“Luna, wasn’t it? Did you have a good summer?”

“Yes,” said the girl dreamily. Her voice was very soft-spoken. It sounded like a light breeze on a hot summer day. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You’re Harry Potter,” she added, staring at Harry.

“I know I am,” answered Harry.

Ed chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes back to him.

“And I don’t know who you are,” She turned to Neville, “Or you.”

“I’m nobody,” said Neville hurriedly.

“No, you’re not,” Ginny said sharply, “Neville Longbottom, Professor Elric, Luna Lovegood,” Ginny said, gesturing to each of them in turn, “Luna’s in my year, but in Ravenclaw. Neville’s Gryffindor, in Harry’s year. I’m not sure what house Professor Elric is from, but he’s teaching alchemy this year.”

Ed was a bit taken aback by the introduction. The students were going to start calling him Professor Elric now, weren’t they? This is going to be weird.

“We aren’t in a classroom yet, Ginny. You can just call me Ed.”

Neville was staring at him in sudden fear. Luna blinked again. Ed was pretty sure she only blinked when she was surprised.

“You-you’re a professor?” Neville stuttered.

Ed scoffed. “Not by choice, but orders are orders, and the biggest magical library in the world is like a wet dream come true.”

Neville was white as a ghost. Ginny choked on air. Luna blinked again.

“You’re teaching alchemy?” Luna asked breathlessly.

Ed nodded. Luna glanced down at her magazine again.

“You know, alchemy is actually an ancient art from the city of Atlantis, but when the city fell into the sea, the art was lost, and only a few pieces of it were saved for us to use today,” Luna said, her focus seemingly back on her magazine, but Ed could tell she was waiting for a reaction.

Poor Neville looked absolutely terrified.

“Well,” Ed said, “If you’re talking about the Truth-awful alchemy I’ve read about in all your magic books, you all saved the one thing that shouldn’t have been saved.”

Luna blinked, but she didn’t look up from her magazine, only pulled it up high enough to cover her face.

Oh, Ed liked this girl. She would be so much fun in class.

Harry and Neville exchanged glances.

“Yeah, so I met this guy over the summer at my relatives’, and he was at my hearing and somehow ended up talking with Fudge, and now the guy’s a professor. He’s really only scary if you call him short.”

Ed felt a vein bulge in his temple.

“But he’s taller than everyone here?”

Oh, Ed liked Neville too.

Chapter Text

The group fell into awkward silence for a little while before Harry and Neville started a quiet conversation. Ginny pulled out a book to read. Quite content, Ed pulled out a few pieces of paper to work on his letter to Al. Since Argi was already at the school, Ed had to wait until he got to the school before sending out Argi to Amestris. He had just gotten the first few words on the paper when Neville pulled something from his school bag that got Ed’s attention right quick. It appeared to be a small grey cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

“Mimbulus mimbletonia,” Neville said proudly.

Ed couldn’t for the life of him understand what he was seeing. It was clearly a plant, but it was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ. Ed had a brief glimpse of the horror in their basement before pushing the memory aside. That boggart had really cracked the carefully created walls that had kept Ed mostly sane for the past decade. Ed was pulled back to the present when Auri jumped down from his lap to curl up on top of his suitcase under the seat. Then Neville said something about a defensive mechanism. That didn’t sound good. Apparently, Luna Lovegood agreed, because her eyes appeared over the top of her upside-down magazine again, watching what Neville was doing. Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Ed barely reacted in time. The same instant that the plant shuddered and contracted, Ed clapped. When thick, stinking, dark green jets of liquid began squirting from the plant, Ed had just barely managed to touch one of the support bars for the luggage rack behind him. Quick as the alchemic energy guiding it, the luggage rack warped to wrap around the plant in Neville’s hand. There was a little of the smelly goop that had made it towards its intended target, but most of it was caught in the luggage rack Ed used.

“That was so cool!” Ginny exclaimed, “That was your alchemy, right?”

Ed nodded.

“Sorry, I don’t think I caught it all. What is that stuff? It reeks.”

Neville looked like he was awaiting his execution.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, “I haven’t t-tried that before… it’s just Stinksap… I d-didn’t realize it would be so…”

Ed stood, bending the metal to catch the sap before it dripped off his hastily made guard. With a practiced hand, he pulled the metal until it formed a cup shape, the majority of the sap sitting inside. It smelled like rancid manure.

“Let me get the rest of it off of you, Neville. I think you’re the only one that got hit with it,” said Ed as he put the luggage rack back to rights, breaking off his cup of Stinksap. The luggage rack bars were now just a smidge thinner than they were before. Ed hoped the wizards wouldn’t mind.

“I-it’s okay,” Neville tried protesting.

“Nonsense,” Ed replied, kneeling down to reach Neville easier.

Neville gulped. Ed set the cup down between Neville’s feet, then clapped his hands and tapped one finger to a spot on Neville’s shirt. The sap was pulled out of the cloth by the transmutation, and Ed deftly caught it in his makeshift container. He continued the process until Neville was completely clean. Right as Ed stood up, the door to the compartment slid open. Since Neville was sitting closest to the door, the new person got a blast of the stench coming from the Stinksap in Ed’s hand. With his face scrunched up from the smell and his bright, golden eyes, he wasn’t exactly a welcoming sight.

“Um… Hello, Harry, uh, bad time?”

Harry’s head snapped up at the nervous voice. Ed surveyed the newcomer. She was a very pretty girl with long, shiny black hair. Her facial features made her look Qingese in origin. He would later learn that this was Cho Chang, the Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

“Oh… hi,” Harry said blankly, not entirely sure how to dispel the awkwardness or the smell.

“Um…” said Cho, “Well… just thought I’d say hello… ‘bye then.”

She closed the door again, rather pink in the face, and departed. Harry slumped back in his seat and groaned. Ed passed the cup of Stinksap to Neville to do with what he pleased and sat back next to Harry.

“Girl trouble?”

Harry groaned again.

“I’m not really the kinda guy you should go to for advice on that topic… Good luck, bud.”

Harry groaned a third time.

“Sorry,” Neville mumbled again in a small voice.

About a half hour later, the food trolley came by. Edward, having never before tried any of the sweets he saw on her cart, decided to treat himself. He didn’t often indulge in such things, habit born from guilt when Al was stuck in the armor, but his little brother had been restored, he made good on his promise, and he was on his way to forgiving himself.

At least, that’s what he told everyone.

In truth, he still had the occasional nightmare. Guilt was something he had lived with for so long, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to ever let it go completely. He was trying, though. Baby steps, like eating sweets.

Harry, Neville, and Ginny enjoyed showing him all the different sweets and explaining them, but Ed ended up just getting a whopping pile of everything for the whole compartment to share. He quite liked the idea of the chocolate frogs. He really wanted to send one to Mustang. Just picturing the look on his face when the frog jumped was enough to send Ed to the floor with laughter. Auri didn’t seem to like the chocolate frogs. This had the added benefit of her not looking at Trevor like he was a snack. At some point, Auri ended up curled up on the seat next to Ginny, with Trevor tucked protectively next to her. She kept glaring at the chocolate frogs bouncing around, daring them to come any closer. Ed tucked a few frogs into his pocket for later, before holding up a box of jellybeans.

“They really do mean every flavor with those.”

Ed glanced askance at Harry.

“Even milk?”

Harry nodded.

There was no way in hell Ed was ever eating a white one.

Chapter Text

A few minutes later, the compartment door slid open again, and Ron and Hermione walked in, accompanied by Crookshanks and a shrilly hooting Pigwidgeon in his cage. Auri did not like this.

Not one bit.

She jumped up, stood over Trevor, and snarled at the orange tabby. Crookshanks, true to form, tried running away, but the cat was snuggled safely in Hermione’s arms.

“Aurum!” shouted Ed, his voice deep and commanding. Auri looked at him, looked back at Crookshanks, looked down at Trevor sitting calmly underneath her, then scooped up the toad and bounded up to the luggage rack with him. Neville and Ed both jumped up to save Trevor, but he was sitting calmly on a suitcase, Auri perched next to him glaring daggers at Crookshanks.

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt him,” Ed mused, “I think she likes Trevor.”

Neville laughed nervously. “I hope she doesn’t like him too much.”

“I’m starving.”

Ron tossed Pig’s cage onto the opposite luggage rack and snagged a pumpkin pasty, before settling between Harry and Neville. It was a bit of a tight fit for the boys, but Ron seemed too tired to care.

“Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House,” said Hermione as she settled into her seat by Ginny looking thoroughly disgruntled, “Boy and girl from each.”

“And guess who’s the Slytherin boy prefect?” Ron grumbled through a mouthful of pasty.

“Malfoy,” replied Harry, his worst fears confirmed.

“That reminds me,” said Ed, “Lucy was following me around Diagonally.”

“Huh?”

“Tall, long platinum-blonde hair, long nose, face like he just stepped in horse dung, super pompous, silver and black cane? He was following me around Diagonally when your mom and I were doing school shopping. Lost him pretty easy though. Dude was super sloppy. Don’t think he was sent to spy on me, he just happened to see me and followed me,” Ed explained.

“Wait, Lucius Malfoy?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry barked, “That means Voldemort’s interested in you! This is bad!”

Ed shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened.”

Poor Neville looked ready to pass out. “Wh-who’s Hufflepuff?”

“Wha-?” asked Ron before he recognized the jump in subjects, “Oh, Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott.”

“That complete cow Pansy Parkinson is the Slytherin girl prefect,” Hermione spat venomously, “How she got to be a prefect when she’s thicker than a concussed troll… “

“Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil are Ravenclaw’s,” said Ron, hoping to cut off Hermione’s rant.

“You went to the Yule ball with Padma Patil,” said a vague voice.

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. Ed glanced at Harry to see he seemed to have forgotten his worries over Moldyfart for the time being.

“Yeah, I know I did,” Ron said, looking mildly surprised.

“She didn’t enjoy it very much,” Luna informed him, “She didn’t think you treated her very well, because you wouldn’t dance with her. I don’t think I’d have minded,” she added thoughtfully, “I don’t like dancing very much.”

She retreated behind The Quibbler again, and Ed couldn’t stop the laughter. Ginny was barely able to contain her own giggles by stuffing her knuckles in her mouth. Flummoxed, Ron stared at the cover of her magazine, before turning to see the majority of the compartment amused at his expense. Frowning at Ed, he checked his watch.

“We’re supposed to patrol the corridors every so often,” he told Harry and Neville, “and I can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something…”

“You’re not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!” said Hermione sharply. She glanced at Ed briefly before lowering her voice, “And you just said that in front of a teacher!”

Ron jumped, looking around their compartment before his eyes landed on Ed, who had the tiniest of smirks. Ron paled.

“I forgot you’re a teacher. You’re not as stiff as all the others.”

Ed laughed. “I should hope not. That McMonocle reminds me of General Armstrong or Hawkeye from back home. I could never be that scary.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He had seen Ed angry. The man was like a demon on a warpath. Harry couldn’t imagine how scary this Armstrong or Hawkeye person was if even Ed couldn’t match them.

“Either way, do whatever you want. We haven’t reached the school yet, so I’m not a teacher yet.”

Ron grinned. “I’ll make Goyle do lines, it’ll kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to what Ed assumed was the Goyle in question, screwed up his face in a look of pained concentration, and mimed writing in midair. “I… must… not… look… like… a… baboon’s… backside…”

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed as hard as Luna Lovegood. Ed was afraid the girl would wake the dead, she was laughing so loud and shrill. Her laughter was surprisingly abrasive for such a soft-spoken girl, and her scream of mirth startled Hedwig awake in her cage, Crookshanks dashed under the seats hissing, and Auri glared at her from her perch above Ed’s head. Utterly nonplussed, Ron looked around at the others, who were now laughing at Ron’s face and Luna’s ludicrously prolonged laughter.

“Baboon’s… backside!” she choked, doubled over.

Her magazine slid down her lap to plop on the floor. Ed glanced down at it and suddenly recognized who the cartoon on the cover was supposed to be. Upside down, it was unrecognizable, but from this angle, Ed recognized the abysmal lime-green bowler hat from his trip to the Ministry of Magic. Intrigued, Ed picked it up and began flipping through it. The article on Fudge had Ed fighting laughter again. He had met the man, and there was no way the guy was competent enough to take over Gringotts, even if he managed to bake all the goblins in pies. There were a few more articles that seemed far-fetched, but horribly entertaining. Ed loved the gag magazines like these. There were tons of tabloids back home that liked to tell readers of his and Mustang’s budding romance, the monsters in the sewers of central, theories on the Promised Day ranging from government conspiracy to alien invasion, and all sorts of other things that maybe were or were not true. Even when they managed to get something partially right, they somehow got it wrong by the end of the article.

There was only one tabloid that Ed always found truth in. They had been the ones to say that Ross’s death was a cover up, that Scar had been an Ishvalan before Hawkeye even knocked off his glasses, that the Fullmetal Alchemist’s brother was not all he seemed, that monsters walked among the public, that members of the military were plotting to overthrow the government. They were also the first to call Ed the Peoples’ Alchemist.

Maybe The Quibbler was like that one? Harry had started reading over Ed’s shoulder at some point, and now Ron was interested.

“Anything good in there?” asked Ron as Ed flipped a page to an article on ancient runes, which explained why Luna had been reading it upside down.

According to the article, if you turned the runes on their heads, they revealed a spell to make your enemy’s ears turn into kumquats. Ed flipped the magazine upside down, but before he could answer Ron, Hermione chimed in.

“Of course not,” said Hermione scathingly, “The Quibbler is rubbish, everyone knows that.”

“Excuse me,” Luna said surprisingly sharply for such a soft voice, “My father is the editor.”

“I… oh,” said Hermione, looking embarrassed. She tried pitifully to recover, but Luna’s frown only deepened.

Ed scoffed. “Typical academic. This thing is brilliant,” he turned to Luna, showing her the article he was reading on the runes, “Where did your father get this information? These two runes I don’t know, but this one, well, it’s flipped, but it’s the alchemic symbol for water, this one is citric acid, and this one is a sugar, albeit not one you’d find in most fruits. You could definitely get at least close to a kumquat with this.”

“Oh, well this one came from a witch from Cambodia. She has sent us a few other articles about runes in the past.”

Luna looked a little taken aback, but quite pleased by Ed’s praise. Hermione was quiet, staring at the floor.

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Hermione. The public usually looks down on creative genius, but that’s the fun of science. You can’t take what the public says too seriously. I mean, just look at what The Daily Prophet says about Harry,” said Ed, handing the magazine back to its owner.

“I don’t believe what they’re saying about you, Harry,” said Neville quietly.

Harry nodded. The ambient atmosphere from earlier was gone. Now the compartment air was heavy with awkwardness. Ed retreated back to his paper and pen to finish his letter to Al, and Luna ducked back behind her magazine, once again upside down. Before anyone else could recover, the compartment door slid open again.

Chapter Text

Harry glanced up at the intruders and groaned. He knew this moment would come, but the knowledge that it was inevitable did not improve the experience. Knowing that you couldn’t avoid Draco Malfoy and his goons and enjoying being cornered by them were two entirely different things.

“What?” Harry snapped before Malfoy could get a word out.

“Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,” drawled Draco.

Ed glanced up and instantly recognized the sleek blonde hair and pointed chin. Ed was already frustrated because he couldn’t figure out how to explain his situation to Al over a letter of all things, and the interruptions were not helping.

“Leave, brat, or I’ll have to give you a beating,” Ed growled.

Ed could hear a pin drop in the short silence that followed.

“Are you threatening me? I can give you detention for that.” Malfoy drawled.

Ed chuckled darkly, and everyone shivered at the sound. “I’d like to see you try.”

Harry glanced at Malfoy to see he was looking less sure now, but still stubborn. “Apparently, you weren’t informed, but I am the Slytherin prefect.”

Ed finally looked up from his letter-in-progress to look Malfoy dead in the eye, with a frightening scowl on his face. Harry couldn’t help but scoot away a smidge.

“I was informed. I just don’t care.” Ed noticed Malfoy’s stubborn look of outrage flicker to fear when their eyes met. He grinned. “I’m going back to writing my letter. You can leave.”

He turned back to the paper and pen in his lap, tapping the pen against his lips as he thought. He could hear people shifting in their seats. He saw Luna peeking over her magazine from the corner of his eye. It was only a matter of time before-.

“What’s your name? I’m giving you detention.” Malfoy drawled, stubbornly confident in his newfound power. “You see, I, unlike you, have been made prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.”

Ed didn’t even glance up from his paper when he said, “Nice try. I’m giving you detention. You see, I, unlike you, have been rudely interrupted, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to react as I see fit.”

Malfoy stood there simultaneously gaping at Ed’s bravado and fuming at his stubbornness, while Ed wrote a little more in his letter.

“Who are you?” demanded Malfoy harshly, having found his own bravado again.

“You may call me Professor Elric, and you will be joining me for detention on the first day of classes, for abusing your power to threaten other students. I will be informing the headmaster about this,” Ed informed him, still not even looking up from his paper.

The Gryffindors in the compartment laughed at Malfoy’s look of shock and horror. The boy spluttered for a moment, before he quickly got control of himself again, turning a harsh glare to Harry.

“You really do know how to make people love you, don't you, Potter? Does this one howl like Lupin did, or does he bark like your other friend?" Draco bit out, surprisingly politely.

"My dislike of your behavior has nothing to do with your fellow student. You already have one detention. Why don't you leave before I make it two?"

When he finished his little speech, Ed glanced up from his paper to glare at the blonde in the door. With one last scowl at Harry, the Slytherin prefect finally left.

“That was amazing!” Ginny gushed, “You were so serious! All like, ‘You may call me Professor Elric,’” she adopted a deeper voice to imitate his earlier speech, “His face was priceless!”

Ed glanced at Harry. The boy was staring at the closed door, his lip caught between his teeth.

‘Looks like Harry got the message. I hope the consequences are worth it, Sirius.’

While the students brought out cards to play some kind of game, Ed worked on his letter to Al. He looked to see what he had written so far. Decoded, it read:

Dear Brother,

How are things back home? Is the bastard giving you a hard time now that I’m not there for him to nag? I’ll send him a report later. How’s the office? Everyone staying out of trouble without me? How is Winry? I’m going to send her a letter next. I proposed think I proposed before the train departed. What do I do? This is Winry we’re talking about! I want to propose properly, I think she’d like that. What kind of ring do you think she’d like? How should I propose?

Anyway, you probably want to know what I’ve been up to… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you! Remember those priest guys from Ishval that did magic? Well, they aren’t the only ones! I met real wizards! Turns out, their magic is a little different. The way the priest explained it, they used their own energy, like the qi Ling is always talking about, as the equivalent exchange for their magic. That’s why it’s small, and they can’t do much because they only have so much qi. The people I met use wands as a conduit. They use their own energy, or magic, to draw in natural energy, or magic, through the wand, and using the magical energy of the wand, they convert it all into their own magical energy that they use for their spells. They can do all kinds of things using natural energy as their own. It’s amazing! I got my own wand and I can’t wait to show you!

Also, I’m teaching alchemy at this magic school. I know, I know. Me? Teaching? Without maiming? Before you get all panicky, I haven’t actually started teaching yet. I met this kid, and we got attacked by these Truth awful creatures. Turns out, they’re magical. They suck all the happiness and light from you, and then they steal your soul by kissing you. Definitely not how you would want your first kiss to go. We both know souls aren’t something to mess with. I know it sounds silly, but I keep having nightmares, so don’t go out at night and always keep chocolate on hand. It’s the only thing that makes you feel better after meeting those things.

I like this kid though, Harry is his name, because he kind of reminds me of me, back in the day. There’s this other guy, another teacher, who reminds me of Mustang, only greasier. Anyway, long story short, there’s this prophesy, and I can talk to Truth through this little blue magic ball, and he wants me to get rid of this evil guy who killed a bunch of people ages ago, including Harry’s parents, and dad was here, years ago, and he left part of his stone, so I have that now.

Ed really didn’t know what to write after dropping bombs like that.

Before his thoughts could go any further, a bomb really did go off in the compartment. When Ed heard the bang, instincts forced his body to move faster than anyone would expect. The iron on his right arm flew to shield his body. Because the iron plates were so thick and dense, it could expand to form a decent shield. Not quite bombshelter, but it was the best he had at the moment.

It wasn’t good enough.

A beam from the ceiling had pierced his stomach. He needed to escape. Kimbly was going to kill him and he was pinned to the ground like a bug. He was going to die here. If they pulled the beam out, he would bleed out in less than a minute. Human transmutation on himself might-.

“Ed!”

He blinked. Harry was sitting in front of him. The beam was gone. He was on a train. What was going on?

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked, hovering over Harry’s shoulder awkwardly.

“What happened?” Ed asked. His voice sounded odd to his ears, like everything was underwater.

“One of the cards snapped, and you kinda, well, freaked out.” Harry explained.

The room started coming back into focus. He had performed human transmutation on himself to heal his stomach, but that was years ago. The scar had already started to fade. Now, he was in a place called England, on a train to teach alchemy at a school for magic. His breathing started evening out. Ed looked around to see everyone staring at him.

“Let’s maybe not play Exploding Snap in the same room as a war veteran.” Ginny suggested.

Ed couldn’t help but agree.

Chapter Text

For the rest of the ride, the students left him alone. They chatted amongst themselves, mostly about school. A few other students stopped by to say hello, but no one dared to bother Ed. Ron and Hermione left to patrol the corridor periodically, but Ed didn’t pay them any attention. He spent the train ride finishing his letter to Al. He wasn’t sure he explained everything well, but he didn’t really know how to explain the craziness his life had become.

When the train got closer, the students all changed into their robes. There was no way in hell Ed was going to wear one of those death traps. He was sticking with his new red coat, thank you. According to the Xerxesians in the prophecy orb, the thunderbird design that became the Flamel was the crest of Xerxes. Ed quite liked the idea of wearing it. If anyone had issue with it, they were just going to have to deal with it.

He wore his signature black leather pants with a plain black tank top, his combat boots, and his trench coat. While the kids pulled on their robes, Ed pulled out something he had only ever worn on a few occasions: the blue overcoat of his military uniform. Most of those in power in the military had given up on getting Ed to wear the uniform, but Ed knew first impressions were important. His rank was proudly displayed on his epaulet, with the medals he had earned throughout his years of service all lined up in a row on the left, and his aiguillette on his right. He snapped it on over his tank top, fitted his arm guard over the right sleeve, then pulled his new red trench coat back on. It was ankle-length, deep maroon, with the Xerxes crest on the back. The bird in flight with the serpent, lightning bolts, and crown made for an impressive sight, the bright, electric blue against the deep blood red. His gloves and combat boots completed the look.

Now that the State Military was run by people Ed knew and trusted, he didn’t mind looking like a dog of the military every once and a while. It was Ed’s special way of supporting Roy, the current Führer, even if Roy was the only one who understood the gesture.

When a voice echoed through the train with a five-minute warning and instructions to leave their luggage when they disembark, Hermione and Ron had to leave to supervise.

With Trevor tucked in Neville’s pocket, and Auri perched on Ed’s shoulders, they made their way off the train.

As soon as the group made it off the train, a slithery voice called from behind Ed.

“Professor Elric, would you please come with me?”

Harry turned around to see his least favorite professor: Snape.

Without a word, Ed followed Snape from the platform.

The potions master led him down the road ahead of the students. Ed looked around at the little village they appeared to be in. It reminded him of Resembool, at least until he read the shop signs. “Hog’s Head” and “Zonko’s Joke Shop” were not things you would see in Amestris.

The skeleton horses were also not things you would see in Amestris.

Ed stared at the midnight blue beings hitched to the carriages lining the street. They much resembled horses, but there was something reptilian about them too. They had wings folded by their flanks, and their heads were like a lizard. Ed’s first instinct was an alchemical chimera, but the lack of flesh on the beasts told him they should, by all rights, be dead already.

‘They must be magical.’

The white, pupil-less eyes were a little unnerving, especially when all of them that he could see were focused on him. Dutifully, Ed followed his guide, his military training starting to rear its head the longer he followed. By the time they reached the front carriage, Ed was studiously ignoring the beasts.

“In.”

Ed raised an eyebrow at the order but went to move towards the offered carriage. Before he could make it to the door, however, one of the creatures stomped a hoof, and Ed’s carefully crafted mask cracked. He flinched, ever so slightly, and the creature must have taken the subtle response as an invitation, because it strained against its harness to get closer to him. Ed took an involuntary step back, only to be stopped by Snape standing behind him.

“They are perfectly tame, Professor Elric. Please get in the carriage.”

Ed nodded and climbed into the carriage, stoic mask back in place. Snape surveyed the herd hitched to the carriages. They were all very interested in Elric, and he could clearly see them. This was definitely cause for concern. He would have to inform Dumbledore.

The ride to the school was quiet. Auri hopped down from Ed’s shoulders to sit curled up in his lap, while Ed absentmindedly stroked her soft fur. Ed didn’t feel like talking, knowing that those horse things were pulling the carriage. They really unnerved him, and Snape was busy trying to determine why the herd had taken such a quick and unanimous liking to the blonde.

He still didn’t have an answer by the time they reached the doors.

Snape marched up the stairs, and Ed obediently followed, Auri keeping pace at his right heel. He was led through a grand entranceway, before turning into a large hall. There were four long tables stretched down the length of the hall, with another long table sitting perpendicular up on a dais on the other end of the room. Candles floated above the tables, but Ed didn’t see any wax dripping anywhere. The walls were ornately decorated, sloping into a high, arched ceiling. There was magic everywhere. Ed could feel it in the floor, see it seeping out of the walls, taste it in the air. It coated the ceiling, held every candle, covered every table. Ed was nearly overwhelmed when Snape flung the doors open.

In an effort to collect himself, Ed ignored everything and everyone. The only face he paid attention to was Dumbledore’s.

“What the hell, old man? You couldn’t have given me a heads up on anything? I had to learn from children how you weirdos do things. Walking through a wall. Honestly.”

Dumbledore merely smiled in response. Once he got over the immense amount of magical energy swirling about, Ed took the time to survey the others at the table. Anyone could be a threat. He recognized a few people from Grimmauld Place, namely the severe woman and Greasy Hair who led him there.

Then Ed’s eyes landed on the pink toad. Ed really didn’t want to deal with her right now. If the whole castle was oozing magic from every crevice like this hall was, then Ed was in for a very long year.

“Are you going to introduce me, old man, or make me stand here like an idiot all night?”

“Of course, Edward. You have already met Severus. He is our potions master. To my left, we have Minerva McGonagall. She is our deputy headmistress, and our transfiguration professor. From what I know of your craft, it seems to be closest in similarity to transfiguration, so I’m sure you’ll get along splendidly. Next, we have our new defense against the dark arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge, but I believe you have already met.”

Ed had waved off Severus’ introduction, and had nodded respectfully at Minerva’s, but at Umbridge’s name, he forced a smile.

“I have had the… luck of meeting her before,” Ed commented bowing her direction politely. He needed to keep up appearances, no matter how uncomfortable it was. He really was turning into Roy, wasn't he?

Umbridge’s face had turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with the pink bow on her head. She tittered behind her hand, and Ed wanted to gag.

“The pleasure was all mine,” simpered the toad.

Ed was quite happy to have so easily gotten her nestled in the palm of his hand.

“I’m sure it was,” Ed mumbled. Louder, he asked, “I assume the empty seat is mine?”

Dumbledore nodded. The captive audience found their freedom at that, and Minerva jumped to run and greet the first years. Ed settled into his seat, Auri sitting dutifully under the table at her master’s feet. After ensuring the cat wouldn't cause any trouble, Ed turned to greet the people he was seated next to. The woman to his right, had wispy hair that seeped into the air, rather than simply ending like hair ought to, and her glasses were three times too big for her face and certainly made her eyes pop. Ed was briefly reminded of a bug. Her robes were ornate in a style that Ed just adored. The alchemist would have loved to talk with her, but she was busy conversing with her plate, so he turned to the person on his left.

Ed liked him immediately. It was tough to guess with him sitting down, but Ed would say the guy couldn’t be much more than a meter.

“I’m Ed.”

He offered a hand to shake, and his new friend accepted it gladly.

“Filius Flitwick. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The name struck a memory for Ed. Where had he heard that name?

“Oh! You’re the charms professor, right?”

The small man nodded.

“Awesome! I’ve got a charm that I just can’t quite get right. Si- er, someone told me you would be able to help,” Ed said. He hoped no one noticed his slip up.

“Of course, my boy!” Flitwick squeaked, “What charm were you trying to do?”

“Undetectable Extension on my suitcase. No matter what I did, it was still heavy. It almost exploded before I got someone to help me out.”

“Ah yes, that one is exceptionally tricky.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I’d love to assist you! Come visit me in my office any time.”

“Thanks.”

While they had been talking, students had been filing into the hall and sitting at one of the four tables. Minerva had apparently already brought in the first years, and now everyone was staring at a hat on a stool that hadn’t been there when Ed walked in. To Ed’s surprise, the hat started to talk through its brim!

Stiffly, Ed reached into his pocket and put his hand around his prophecy.

‘Hey Truth,’ Ed asked, ‘Is that a soul bonded to a hat?’

‘No.’

‘You sure?’

‘I think I, of all people, would know.’

Ed sighed, relaxing, but kept his hand around the prophecy. He had spent a considerable amount of time on it the last couple days at Grimmauld Place, but he finally figured out how to communicate with the ball without having to speak out loud. It made conversing with the ball’s inhabitants so much easier. He had been reaching into his pocket every once and a while to ask Zena’s opinion on his letter to Al he wrote on the trip to the school. The souls in the ball could perceive the world in some way, though Ed didn’t know how, as apparently it was hard to explain, but they would often give him insightful commentary. They had discovered that if one of the souls yelled his name, he would hear it even if he wasn’t touching the ball. It made communicating a bit easier. Ed assumed it was just his close connection with The Gate. The darn thing just loved making his life complicated, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

With Truth's reassurance in mind, Ed listened to the warning the hat sang.

Chapter Text

“Let the sorting now begin.”

Ed joined in the applause, but his mind was occupied with the warning the hat gave. How much did that hat know?

“That’s rather ominous…” Ed muttered.

“Of course, my dear. Don’t you know that our future is ripe with death and destruction?” A solemn, airy voice said to his right.

Ed jumped when he turned to see the speaker and her face was inches from his. It was the witch with large glasses that had been conversing with her plate. Ed backed away as far as he could.

“Doom is kinda my norm. What death are we talking about exactly?” Ed asked.

The woman backed up to her own seat, allowing Ed to breathe a little easier. Her face was the epitome of sorrow. She shook her head sadly as she sighed.

“Do you not know? I could tell with just a glance. Death covers you, my dear. It is nigh.” She sighed so heavily Ed was afraid her soul had left her body.

“Meaning what?” Ed asked.

She turned back to the front to watch as the first student was called to sit on the stool and wear the hat.

“I am a Seer, dear. Death is at your heels. I’d give you less than a year in this world.”

Ed didn’t know what to think about this. He could understand most other magical disciplines, but fortune telling still seemed to be nothing but smoke and mirrors. There was just no sense to it. The shape of your tea leaves didn’t actually have any baring on your future, did it?

Ed’s train of thought was interrupted after Rose Zeller was sorted into Hufflepuff. Professor McGonagall took the hat and stool and whisked them away as Dumbledore rose to his feet.

“To our newcomers,” began Dumbledore, his voice ringing through the hall and putting a stop to any whispered conversations, “welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

Ed clapped along appreciatively with the rest, before his attention was diverted to the food that had suddenly appeared in front of him. The platters lining the tables were suddenly heaped with pies and vegetables and bread and meats and sauces and foods that Ed had never seen. He dug in with his usual gusto, sharing a pleasant conversation with Professor Flitwick on the castle’s history. While Ed listened, he discretely fed Auri a bit of his drumstick beneath the table. She was quite pleased with the arrangement.

“… and that’s how the ceiling looks like the sky above us.”

Ed frowned up at the gold arches above their heads.

“It just looks like a fancy ceiling to me.”

“Oh ho!” Flitwick laughed, “You must have impressive architecture in your home country. Dumbledore said you were from a place called Amestris?”

Ed nodded, his mouth full of roast potatoes.

“I have never heard of that country. I assume it’s very far?”

Ed nodded again, swallowing his mouthful. “You would have a hard time finding it. We don’t have much of a magical presence.”

“I’m afraid I don’t keep informed of the Muggle world much.” Said Flitwick.

Ed chuckled. “We don’t have much of a presence at all, even in the Muggle world. I wouldn’t bother trying to find it.”

Flitwick chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The meal continued pleasantly, if Ed ignored the prophesies of his doom and the tittering toad on the far end of the table.

When Dumbledore rose again, Ed couldn’t have been more relieved. The witch sitting next to him finally stopped trying to convince him that he would leave this world for the next in the color black, when Dumbledore stood from his chair. The whole hall was suddenly quiet, waiting for the headmaster to speak. Ed supposed now was the time for speech-making.

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices.”

Ed had to hide his snicker when he noticed the Weasley twins at their table. They were making the most obnoxious faces they could in an unsuccessful effort to distract the headmaster.

“First years ought to know that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.”

Ed caught the moment the twins realized the headmaster was looking at them. They shared identical Cheshire grins.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred, and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door.”

Ed could sympathize with the guy. He would probably go crazy if he had to clean up after a bunch of teenagers for a living. Teaching them for a year was about as far as he could go.

“We have had three changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Lastly, I am happy to announce Professor Elric will be joining our staff to teach a new subject at Hogwarts, one that hasn’t been taught in centuries: Alchemy!”

Ed joined in the polite applause. He could tell the students were gossiping, wondering which new face at the high table was which new professor, but Dumbledore gave no indication that he heard.

“Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the – ”

It took Ed a moment to figure out why he had broken off in the middle of a sentence. It wasn’t until he heard the dreaded, “Hem, hem,” that realization dawned. Down the table, Umbridge had risen from her seat, although her stature didn’t make it immediately obvious.

Dumbledore sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Ed glanced down the staff table and realized that he and Dumbledore were two of the only people who did not seem surprised.

Maybe it was because they were the only two to have met the woman before.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome.”

Ed really and truly hated this woman and everything about her. Her little-girlish, high-pitched voice grated on his nerves like none other, and he felt the need to bleach his eyes every time they landed on her pink accoutrements. Ed glanced at the students to see most of them smirking or fighting giggles. This year would be entertaining if Ed got to watch the students tear this woman to shreds.

She gave another little throat-clearing cough and continued.

“Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, and Ed was struck by how pointy her teeth were, “And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!”

Ed glanced back at the student body. None of the faces he could see looked happy. In fact, most of them looked distinctly miffed at being addressed as if they were five years old.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!”

Ed doubted this very much. He would have been more inclined to believe her if she had said, “I’m dreading every second you all will have to tolerate me, and I’m sure we’ll all loath each other, so I’ll just pop out of existence like a wayward soap bubble now!”

Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

The next words she said were less breathy and had more of a memorized repetition sound to them.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

She paused and gave a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. McGonagall’s expression reminded Ed of Mustang’s, right before he snaps his fingers. Ed watched her share a significant look with another professor. Down with the other students, Harry glanced at Ed and saw the darkest expression he had ever seen on Ed’s face.

For his part, Ed did not like the way Umbridge was talking about teaching like it was brainwashing. Ed’s teacher was a very special person to him.

Also, her bow looked like a stupid mockery of the culture of his home.

He really did not like this toad.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering.”

Ed rolled his eyes and turned away. If she was going to support him coming to Hogwarts, maybe she shouldn’t be spouting all this crap. At his feet, Auri batted his knee with a paw. Ed glanced down to see her staring up at him with an expression he had never related to more.

She looked just as bored as he did.

Patting his lap for her to jump up, Ed looked out at the students again. Most of them weren’t paying a lick of attention to the droning toad, some were chatting, some were zoned out. His new favorite had even pulled her father’s magazine out again.

To Ed’s surprise, he noticed Hermione was giving her the utmost attention, with a thoughtful frown on her face that was steadily getting darker.

He didn’t blame her.

He’s pretty sure Umbridge would continue with her speech even if a tsunami wiped out her audience. She would just continue spouting her pretentious nonsense. Heaving a bone-weary sigh and stroking the ball of purring fur in his lap, Ed turned to tune back into her droning speech.

“… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned.”

Ed really could not take much more of this. Honestly, she could have just said, “The Ministry of Magic doesn’t like Dumbledore, so we’re going to try to take control of Hogwarts and brainwash you all,” and been done ages ago. Why did she have to take so long to say something so simple?

“… intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

She finally sat down. Dumbledore clapped, as did a few other professors, but Ed simply continued petting Auri. The applause didn’t last long, and it certainly wasn’t enthusiastic.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore said as he rose again, “That was most illuminating,” he said, bowing to her.

“Tell me about it,” Ed muttered down to Auri.

She butted his hand with her head, and he obliged, scratching her favorite spot behind her ear.

“Now – as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

Ed tuned out again. He didn’t particularly care when or where students would be knocking each other off their brooms. Instead, he watched the students. He noticed Harry and his friends having a whispered conversation. He assumed it was probably about the enlightening speech Umbridge gave.

“I assume you haven’t been shown your chambers yet?” Flitwick asked, startling him.

“I-er… no, no I haven’t.” Ed answered.

While Ed was distracted watching the students, Dumbledore had apparently finished his speech and dismissed the hall, because everyone began leaving.

Ed grinned at the shorter man. “I don’t suppose you’d know where they are?”

Flitwick hopped down from his chair, and Ed was pleased to note that he came up to about Ed’s belt buckle.

“I’d love to show you! I usually take a little walk before I retire on the first night, in case any students get lost on the first night back.”

“I’m bound to get lost all year long,” Ed laughed, “This castle is huge!”

Chapter Text

Professor Flitwick left the Great Hall, and Ed followed amicably, once Auri had settled herself draped across Ed’s shoulders. Led down corridors and up stairs, and up corridors and down stairs, Ed followed patiently, enjoying the company. The Head of Ravenclaw was chatting away happily, giving Ed a tour of sorts, detailing the history of the mighty castle.

Ed listened eagerly. He greeted each painting they passed and studied every statue. He got quite the thrilling shock when the first staircase moved, he poked his nose in a few classrooms they passed, and he just generally enjoyed the experience.

Until a suit of armor in the hallway moved and he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Professor? How is that suit of armor moving?” Ed asked, feet planted firmly and body tense.

“Do call me Filius, my boy, but not to worry. A few of the suits around the castle are enchanted to move. We teachers use them to patrol the corridors after lights out every once and a while.”

“So, it’s not a disembodied soul attached to the armor?” Ed asked, wanting to be positive.

He didn’t know if it was possible with magic, but the very thought of there being more than one way to rip someone’s soul out of their body made him feel physically ill.

“A soul? Oh no, my dear boy, not a soul! Messing with souls is Dark business.” Filius replied, his tone of voice suggesting that “Dark business” was worse than first-degree murder.

“Oh… right, of course.” Ed stumbled over his words as he gathered his wits again.

“And Peeves can’t attach himself to things, only move them. I don’t think he’s in the habit of playing with the armor though.” Filius continued to explain as he started back down the corridor, “The enchantments would make them harder for him to control I suppose. I wonder if he would be able to move something that was enchanted to move another direction. At the very least, he’s never tossed a student around, only thrown things at them and been a general nuisance. Can poltergeists only move inanimate objects?” He continued to think aloud as they walked.

“Sorry to interrupt your thought process, but… who is Peeves?” Ed asked.

A wide, slightly startlingly sinister grin flashed across the elder’s face before he schooled it into a more neutral expression.

“He’s the poltergeist that haunts Hogwarts. He’s a prankster, and as a ghost that can actually move things in the mortal world, he’s made himself into quite the pest for a lot of the students and staff, especially poor Mr. Filch.”

Ed didn’t miss the mischievous twinkle in the shorter man’s eye. He wasn’t sure, but Ed got the distinct impression that Filius was also a prankster. Ed couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face if he tried. He knows, because he tried.

He really did like Filius.

“Merlin’s beard! Is that the time?” Filius squeaked, glancing at a grandfather clock as they passed it, “Let’s get you to your quarters, we’ve got lots to do tomorrow, first day of classes and all!”

Ed glanced at the clock as well… and was thoroughly confused. The face resembled that of a clock, and the pendulum swung as pendulums do, but the clock face had markings that Ed hadn’t the first idea on how to decipher, with moons and planets, and the speed of the pendulum seemed irregular the longer Ed stared at it.

“Are you coming?”

Ed blinked, turning to see Filius had somehow made it halfway back down the corridor without him noticing.

“Sorry, coming!”

Ed made a mental note of where this clock was so he could come back to study it on his own time, then jogged down the hall to catch up with Filius. They went down a flight of stairs to the left, through a corridor, took a left and a right, down another flight of stairs, and at the end of a short corridor, they stopped in front of a large set of oak doors.

“This will be your classroom,” Filius explained, gently pushing one of the heavy-looking doors open.

Ed tried not to roll his eyes when he was once again met with the laziness of magic. Why have big, heavy doors, if magic makes them lighter?

Following Filius into the room, Ed glanced around. It seemed to be a basic classroom: chairs and desks lined up and facing a raised platform on the opposite end of the room, with a larger desk for the professor, a few chalkboards on wheels, a handful of cupboards along the right, and large windows to the left. In the corner sat stacks of books and boxes that Ed recognized from his shopping in Diagon Alley.

“Oh good, your supplies have arrived,” Filius commented as he led him further into the room, “Back here is your office.”

He led him through a small door behind the professor’s desk which led to a modest office with another desk and a small fireplace. What really caught Ed’s eye was the ornate bookcase sitting in the corner. The exposed side had a beautifully detailed carving of a tree, with a little screech owl sitting regally on one of the larger branches.

“Frank, this is Edward,” Filius said to the bookcase before turning to Ed, “Ed, what password would you like?”

Ed had no idea who or what he was talking to, but he figured it was another magic thing.

“I dunno, um, Colonel Bastard?” Ed said with a shrug. The office reminded him of his superior, so he just rolled with the idea.

Auri huffed when the shoulders she was laying on shifted. She gracefully jumped to the floor, just to jump right back up with a startled mewl when the bookcase began moving on its own.

“Woah!”

Filius laughed, “Not to worry, my dear boy, that’s just Frank,” Filius gestured to the carved owl on the bookcase that Ed now noticed was walking across the carving of a branch.

‘Wizards…’

“I guess he’s alright with a foreign language. Owls are pretty clever, after all. These are your chambers,” Filius informed him, “Just give old Frank here the password, and he’ll let you in anytime. The house elves can get you anything you need. Your trunk and things should all be in there already. Well, I’ll leave you to it! See you at breakfast!”

With a wave and a “toodle-oo!” Filius was gone, and Ed was left to explore his new accommodations with his spooked cat on his own.

“Uh, thanks… Frank,” Ed said awkwardly as he walked through the doorway that was revealed when the owl’s bookcase moved aside.

Chapter Text

He appeared to be standing in a sitting room of sorts, with a couple armchairs and a sofa around a coffee table in front of another little fireplace that was already lit and warming the otherwise chilly stone room. A door to the left led to the bedroom, Ed’s suitcase sitting on the four-poster bed, with an ensuite bathroom attached.

“Well, isn’t this cozy, Auri?” Ed commented as he entered the bedroom.

A loud screech nearly gave Ed a heart attack before he realized it was coming from his own owl perched atop his four-poster.

“Argi! You scared the right Dickens outta me!” Ed exclaimed.

Argi just preened while Auri fumed hiding under the bed.

“Although, that reminds me. I should send some letters home. I’ve only got one for Al so far.”

Thus decided, he went back out to the office and settled at his new desk, finding standard parchment and quills inside, he began a letter for Winry:

     Dear Winry,
I hope you’re doing alright. I’ve made it to a really weird place, but I was able to find a way to send you a letter using an owl. Like I said, weird place. 
Don’t worry, I’m safe, and I’ll be home before you know it. Then we can talk about what exactly 80% of our lives means. I promise I’ll propose better the next time I see you.
I love you.
Ed

He knew she would appreciate the sentimental parts, but the more he read over it, the more embarrassed he became. Before he could regret the mushiness, he set it aside and pulled out a new parchment for Mustang.

     General Hotshot,
If I gave you an accurate report of my journey so far, you wouldn’t believe me, even if it came from an owl. Ask Al if you want answers. I sent him a letter too. You like his reports better than mine anyway.
Fullmetal Alchemist,
Edward Elric

P.S. You might be more inclined to believe me after opening the package attached to this letter.

With an alarming amount of glee, Ed pulled a chocolate frog box left over from the train out of his coat pocket, wrapped it up in a spare bit of parchment, and used a basic sticking charm to seal it closed. He pulled Al’s letter out and glanced over it.

     Dear Brother,
How are things back home? Is the bastard giving you a hard time now that I’m not there for him to nag? I’ll send him a report later. How’s the office? Everyone staying out of trouble without me? How is Winry? I’m going to send her a letter next. I proposed think I proposed before the train departed. What do I do? This is Winry we’re talking about! I want to propose properly, I think she’d like that. What kind of ring do you think she’d like? How should I propose?
Anyway, you probably want to know what I’ve been up to… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you! Remember those priest guys from Ishval that did magic? Well, they aren’t the only ones! I met real wizards! Turns out, their magic is a little different. The way the priest explained it, they used their own energy, like the qi Ling is always talking about, as the equivalent exchange for their magic. That’s why it’s small, and they can’t do much because they only have so much qi. The people I met use wands as a conduit. They use their own energy, or magic, to draw in natural energy, or magic, through the wand, and using the magical energy of the wand, they convert it all into their own magical energy that they use for their spells. They can do all kinds of things. It’s amazing! I got my own wand, and I can’t wait to show you!
Also, I’m teaching alchemy at this magic school. I know, I know. Me? Teaching? Without maiming? Before you get all panicky, I haven’t actually started teaching yet. I met this kid, and we got attacked by these Truth awful creatures. Turns out, they’re magical. They suck all the happiness and light from you, and then they steal your soul by kissing you. Definitely not how you would want your first kiss to go. We both know souls aren’t something to mess with. I know it sounds silly, but I keep having nightmares, so don’t go out at night and always keep chocolate on hand. It’s the only thing that makes you feel better after meeting those things.
I like this kid though, Harry is his name, because he kind of reminds me of me, back in the day. There’s this other guy, another teacher, who reminds me of Mustang, only greasier. Anyway, long story short, there’s this prophesy, and I can talk to Truth through this little blue magic ball, and he wants me to get rid of this evil guy who killed a bunch of people ages ago, including Harry’s parents, and dad was here, years ago, and he left part of his stone, so I have that now. 
I should start at the beginning: there’s a group of do-gooders helping protect Harry outside the local government’s wishes that I kinda got roped into, but I impressed people in the government here too, and they don’t know I’m on Harry’s side, so I have allies in both parties. I know, I know, we’ve had plenty of government goons screw us over in the past, but these guys are idiots, believe me. The real worry is this mass murderer after Harry. He is pure evil, Al. He split his soul in pieces, so he can’t die, but the idiot government won’t believe that he’s alive. He’s got an underground following that believe his garbage about magical purity. Reminds me of the Ishvalan hate in Amestris. You know me, I can’t just sit back and watch. Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful. I’m not a kid anymore.
Truth wants me involved too. The headmaster at the school I’m going to teach at gave me a magic prophecy ball that Truth can talk to me through. He wants me to stop this evil guy before he does something worse than Father did. He’s already messing with souls, who knows what else he’ll do? 
Speaking of Truth, that reminds me, we were right. The destruction of Xerxes did cause a rift in reality, Truth confirmed it. That’s why no one ever left the continent… except dad. Yeah, you read that right. Dad apparently broken through the wrinkle in spacetime more than once and built a whole life here. He also left several hundred Xerxesian souls here, as a precaution in case Father ever made it through the barrier caused by the destruction of Xerxes. I’m not sure yet how to set them free. I need to do a lot more research.
I know this all sounds super crazy, but don’t worry, I’m alright. I’ve got hundreds of ancient souls and a god in my pocket, I’ve made it out of more dangerous situations with a lot less. I’ll try to keep in touch. You can send letters back with the owl, his name is Argentum. He’ll know where to find me. I got a magical cat too. Her name is Aurum. She’s a diva.
Stay safe,
Ed

P.S. It would be really nice to have some books from home when I teach, but I’m not sure how to go about getting them here. Any ideas?

After sealing the letters, he wrote the names and addresses for each and tied them to Argi’s leg.

“Alright, the first letter goes to my brother Al, he’s in Qing right now, probably near the palace. The second one goes to Winry. She’s probably back in Rush Valley now, but if not, you can leave the letter with Gran in Resembool. The last letter goes to Mustang, he’s in Central.”

After Argi was sent on his way, Ed put his writing utensils back in the desk drawer, cursing at the ink now staining his gloves.

“Quills really are the most confounded pens…” Ed trailed off when he noticed a letter sitting innocently on his desk. “How did I not notice this earlier?” he wondered aloud as he opened it. It read:

     My Dear Edward,
As this is your first time staying at Hogwarts, please be advised that breakfast begins at sunrise and ends when classes begin at 9:00 am. Lunch runs from the noon bell until 1:00 pm, and supper is served at 5:00 pm after the last class of the day and ends at 7:00 pm. I assume from what Molly tells me that mealtimes are your favorite times of the day. I saw Filius leading you from the Great Hall earlier, so I trust he has given you a lovely tour and a general rundown of classes. I have included your class schedule for your convenience. I hope we can enjoy a wonderful school year together.
Respectfully,
A.P.W.B. Dumbledore

“Pretentious bastard. How many names does a guy need?” Ed muttered as he glanced through his class schedule. “Class first thing in the morning, huh? Better get the room ready then.”

Thus decided, Ed began the herculean task of unpacking and moving in. Sirius had magically extended his suitcase to fit all of his books and clothes, and he also had all of his classroom materials to unpack. There were books and elements and all sorts of things to sort through and put away. 

He made quick work of his clothes and personal items, but his books were another thing altogether. After he had filled the cupboards with elements and paper and chalk and pencils and other classroom supplies, he had nowhere in his classroom to shelve his books. He wasn’t too upset, since he didn’t want the students messing with the few books Sirius had allowed him to keep from the Black library, he didn’t think they’d be interested in his other magic books, and none of the books he found on alchemy were worth reading, but he needed somewhere to put them. That was when he remembered Frank’s bookcase. That would work!

It didn’t work.

Ed had about twenty-five books more than what would fit on Frank’s bookcase, and there simply was not enough cupboard space in his classroom for supplies and books. Unsure where else to put them, he stacked them up on his classroom desk.
When he sat down at the desk, he could barely see over them all.

“How am I supposed to teach like this? I need another bookshelf."

CRACK!

Ed nearly fell out of his chair when a house elf popped into existence right next to him.

“Truth Almighty! Don’t do that! Damn near had a heart attack.” Ed complained, burying his head in his hands while he waited out the adrenaline rush. 

The sound house elves make when they teleport sounded too much like a gunshot. Sirius had forbidden Kreacher from teleporting near Ed after he panicked the first time it happened.

“Dobby is so sorry, sir! Dobby didn’t mean to scare sir! Dobby will leave now!”

Ed looked up at the source of the squeaky voice to see the most bizarre house elf he had ever seen, which admittedly wasn’t hard, as this was only the second one he had ever met, but still, Ed was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to wear that much clothing at once.

“No, it’s fine, you’re already here, just use the door next time,” Ed admonished before the house elf could disappear in a snap. Thinking back on what the elf said he realized, “Wait, did you say Dobby? Harry’s elf friend?”

Dobby’s eyes were the size of dinnerplates. 

“Dobby is not worthy to be Harry Potter’s friend! Harry Potter is Dobby’s savior! Do you know Harry Potter, sir? Did Harry Potter talk to sir about Dobby?”

Ed did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, he mentioned you. What are you doing here though? Did you need something?” Ed asked, hoping to get the squeaky voice and hero worship to leave before it gave him a headache.

“Ah, sir said sir needed a bookshelf! Dobby will bring sir a bookshelf! Where would sir like his bookshelf?”

Ed raised an eyebrow.

“You heard that? Were you spying on me?”

The elf frantically shook his head, his ears flopping and his eyes nearly popping out of his head. Ed briefly wondered how high the poor elf’s blood pressure was, because he seemed stuck in a constant state of sky-high anxiety. 

“No, of course not, sir! All needs are heard by the elves, that is our job. Dobby offered to serve sir because the other elves were too scared of sir, so when sir said he needed a shelf, Dobby heard, and Dobby came.”

Ed closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. He remembered now Filius mentioning something about the elves getting him anything he needed.

“Why are all the elves afraid of me?” he asked, mildly curious. He didn’t think he’d done anything frightening in Hogwarts yet. Did his reputation precede him?

“… because sir yelled at Master Dumbledore, sir.”

Ed nodded. ‘Figures.’ 

“Okay, Dobby. Can you put a bookcase in the sitting area in my private quarters then please?”

The elf’s grin nearly split his face in two, and he was nodding so hard and fast Ed was worried his head would pop right off his little shoulders.

“Dobby would be happy to, sir! Right away, sir!”

The bookcase fit the remaining books perfectly. Admittedly, he had gotten distracted while putting the books away, but he couldn’t help it! There were a couple books he hadn’t gotten the chance to read yet! By the time all the books and things were on their shelves where they belonged, Ed realized it was already morning. He checked the time and cursed. 8:30 am.

He was going to miss breakfast.

With the speed of Mercury, Ed flew down corridors and stairs with abandon, whizzing past student and professor alike, nary a care for the shouts of protest his dash left in his wake. 

English breakfasts were gifts from God himself, in Ed’s personal opinion. After the lovely sausage and bacon and eggs and toast and all manner of wonderful foods Mrs. Weasley made for the occupants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place every morning, Ed was not about to miss a breakfast from the makers of the wonderful feast the night before. He’d just snag a plate and run back to his classroom in time for class.

Chapter Text

On their way to breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing the apparent lack of trust the wizarding world had in Harry’s news that You-Know-Who had returned.

“This sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about,” Hermione explained to the boys, “You-Know-Who’s only been back two months, and we’ve already started fighting among ourselves. The Sorting Hat’s warning was the same – stand together, be united—”

“And Harry said it last night,” retorted Ron, “if that means we’re supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance.”

“Well, I think it’s a pity we’re not trying for a bit of inter-House unity,” Hermione said crossly.

They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth year Ravenclaws was crossing the entrance hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.

“Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that,” Harry remarked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry’s mood; it was a miserable raincloud gray.

“Dumbledore didn’t even mention how long Hagrid would be gone,” Harry griped, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

“Ed’s not here either,” Ron commented as they sat, “Bloke’s gonna miss breakfast. Hope we’re not one of his first classes. He’s right nasty when he’s hungry.”

They chatted a bit as they ate, briefly interrupted by the post delivering Hermione’s Daily Prophet, which she promptly disappeared behind. Midway through his sausage, Harry’s breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of Angelina, the tall, black Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Hi, Angelina.”

“Hi,” she said briskly, “good summer?” she didn’t wait for an answer before she continued, “Listen, I’ve been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.”

“Nice one,” Harry said, looking forward to the likely much shorter pep talks. Oliver Wood was not known for his concise speeches.

“Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver’s left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o’clock, and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person’ll fit in.”

Harry nodded, and she smiled, before her head cocked, and her brow furrowed, looking between Ron and Harry.

“Do you hear that?”

Harry listened and could faintly hear the sound of someone yelling outside in the corridor.

“Fred and George starting early this year?”

Before Angelina or Ron could answer, a blonde whirlwind tore through the Great Hall, weaving through the students and teachers milling between tables, leaving ‘Hey!’s and ‘No running!’s in his wake.

The blonde, who Harry now recognized as Ed, skidded to a stop in front of the teachers’ table, loaded a plate high at lightning speed, shoved a piece of toast between his teeth, and zipped back down between the House tables. Somehow, during his mad dash, he managed not to drop anything. As he neared the door, he caught sight of Harry and his friends and threw a muffled, “Goo’ ‘or’ing!” his way as he passed.

“Blimey, he’s fast. Guess he’s not gonna miss breakfast,” Ron muttered.

“He could have done so without tearing through the castle like a banshee out of hell,” came a voice over his shoulder.

Ron jumped and spun around to see Professor McGonagall behind him staring after her fellow professor, one disapproving eyebrow raised behind her spectacles.

“Your schedule, Mr. Weasley,” she prompted.

“Thanks,” Ron said meekly, taking the offered parchment and glancing over it while Harry and Hermione took theirs.

“Look at today!” groaned Ron after McGonagall had moved on down the table. “History of Magic, double Defense Against the Dark Arts, Alchemy, and double Potions… Boring Binns, that Unbearable Umbridge woman, Eccentric Elric, and Slimy Snape all in one day! I wish Fred and George’d hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted…”

“Do mine ears deceive me?” Fred said, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Harry. “Hogwarts prefects surely don’t wish to skive off lessons?”

“Look what we’ve got today,” Ron said grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred’s nose. “That’s the worst Monday I’ve ever seen. Only thing that would make it worse is to add Trelawny.”

“Fair point, little bro,” Fred replied, scanning the column. “You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.”

“Why’s it cheap?” Ron asked skeptically.

“Because you’ll keep bleeding till you shrivel up. We haven’t got an antidote yet,” George answered, helping himself to a kipper.

“Cheers,” Ron mumbled moodily, pocketing his schedule, “but I think I’ll take the lessons.”

Ed tore down the corridors with toast in his mouth like an anime protagonist. By the time he made it back to his classroom, his breakfast was half gone. He pulled out his notes he made for his first lesson and finished preparing the classroom while he scarfed the rest of his breakfast. He had sixth-year students his first class, and he had a plan for how to start his first class that he thought would honor how Izumi taught him and his brother. When his breakfast was finished, the room was prepared, and he was ready for the lesson, he picked a semi-hidden spot behind the door in the back of the class and waited.

The first to walk in was a group of four blue-clad students, about ten minutes early. They wandered in, walking right past Ed at his post, and sat in desks up near the front. Three of them seemed horribly confused by the pencils sitting at each desk, until the fourth explained that they were a type of Muggle quill called a pencil.

‘At least some wizards know what a pencil is.’ Ed thought irritatedly as he watched. He had to leave the wizarding shops of Diagon Alley for Muggle London to find those pencils. Quills were far too impractical to use in Alchemy.

Over the next ten minutes, more and more students trickled in. Not a single one noticed him, but Ed watched each student as they entered, chatting with their friends and picking seats. He noticed the students with the same color robes sat together, with very few mingling with the other colors.

‘The four colors must be the Houses. What did the talking hat call them again? Grytherpuff? Slyvendore?’

When the bell rang for the start of class, Ed peeked around the corner to check there were no more students, then slammed the door. Hard.

BANG!

Every student jumped a mile high, a couple screamed, wands were drawn, and Ed stood nonchalantly by the door, staring them all down.

“You can put the wands away, you won’t be needing them,” Ed grumbled.

He tossed a piece of parchment at one of the students in the back row.

“Write your name and pass it on. Apparently I have to take attendance, because you lot can’t be trusted to come to class,” he griped before striding to the front of the classroom.

When he turned to face them, he was met with a raised hand in the very front row. “Yes, Mr.?”

The blue-clad boy lowered his hand and asked, “Carmichael, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. Yes, Carmichael?”

“Why won’t we be needing our wands… ma’am?”

Titters broke out throughout the room. The poor boy looked simultaneously mortified and confused at the same time, honestly unsure what to call the professor in front of him, if not sir. His beautiful, thick blonde hair and his enchanting golden eyes were surely from veela ancestry, but as far as poor Eddie could tell, their newest eccentric professor was a man.

Ed closed his eyes, bowed his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, and heaved a sigh worthy of a world record.

‘I will not kill a student. I will not kill a student. I will not kill a student. I will not kill a student. IwillnotkillastudentIwillnotkillastudentIwillnot—’

“My name is Edward Elric. You lot will address me as Elric. Not professor, not sir, Elric. Understood?” Ed ordered sharply when the giggles had faded. “I’ve heard enough ‘sir’s to last me a lifetime. To answer your question, you don’t need a wand because alchemy doesn’t use magic, at least not as you understand magic.”

The students had nothing but confusion on their faces.

“Show of hands, who thinks they know what alchemy is?”

Most of the students tentatively raise their hands.

“I’d expect that, otherwise you wouldn’t have signed up when the notices were sent out about a new course. If you think alchemy is all about creating the Philosopher’s stone and turning lead into gold, raise your hand.”

Again, most students raised their hands, but they were far more eager now.

“You’re all wrong.”

The excited grins vanished.

“Alchemy is, fundamentally, understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. Not making gold and magic rocks.”

There was some mildly displeased grumbling throughout the classroom. Clearly, the students were expecting some gold and magic rocks out of this class.

“That is not to say that alchemy is useless. In fact, I’d say alchemy is the most important discipline you could learn. Need I remind you, you don’t need a wand to perform alchemy.”

A student in red raised their hand.

“Yes, Ms.?”

“Bell, Katie Bell.”

“Yes, Katie?”

“Well, if alchemy can’t turn lead to gold or create a Philosopher’s stone, what does it do? What is it exactly?”

“I never said it can’t.”

The students’ interest perked back up at that, but Ed ignored them.

“But to answer your question, perhaps a demonstration?” Ed said with a grin.

The students all nodded eagerly.

Ed was now immensely relieved he had taken the time to sew a few basic circles into his sleeves after his show at Harry’s hearing. With a flick of his wrist, he called for a transmutation across his desk. When the blue, electric energy snapped across the wood, many of the students startled, but once the light dissipated, there were many ooh’s and ah’s.

Sitting in place of his desk was a miniature model of Hogwarts castle, complete with gargoyles and turrets. With a snap of his fingers, Ed reversed the transmutation.

“Amazing as it may be, it does have its limitations, and it can be very dangerous.”

A student in green raised their hand this time.

“Name?”

“Pucey, Adrian Pucey.”

“Yes, Adrian?”

“How dangerous?” the boy asked with a gleam in his eye.

Ed scowled and pulled his sleeve over his right shoulder, revealing the ugly scar that remained of his original price for saving his brother’s soul that fateful night a lifetime ago.

He ignored the gasps and answered, “I didn’t say who it was dangerous for.” Aware of the many eyes, he pulled his sleeve back up and continued. “Alchemy is not like your transfigurations or charms. It’s not spells or enchantments. It’s a lot like potions. There are certain steps that must be followed, or you run the risk of it all blowing up in your face… or blowing up your face, in more serious cases.”

If his face was anything to go by, Adrian regretted his question.

“As such, no one in this class will be attempting alchemy without my presence. I am not about to have students die on me because they were too impatient and lost their lungs to a rebound,” Ed said with a roll of his eyes, “If one of you attempts alchemy without me, you will immediately fail this class, no second chances. Is that clear?”

The students all nodded, faces serious.

“Good, now we can get to the fun part. The first step in any alchemical transmutation is understanding. Who can name some elements for me? Yes, Katie?”

“Water, earth, fire, and air are the four main elements.”

Ed blinked. She had to be kidding. It sounded like something from a cartoon.

“Um, no, I meant chemical elements. Like from the Periodic table.”

Students were looking at each other and shrugging. One blue-clad girl raised her hand.

“Name?”

“Stump, Megan Stump.”

“Do you know what I’m talking about, Megan?”

“I kinda remember it a little from primary school, before I started at Hogwarts. You’re talking about like, oxygen and carbon dioxide, right? The stuff in the atmosphere?”

Ed got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You’re telling me none of you have had any chemistry? No science since starting at this Truth-forsaken school?”

“Well,” Megan continued hesitantly, “we do have arithmancy.”

Ed felt the ground fall out from underneath him. He knew they would be missing basics, they used quills for Truth’s sake, but this?! Ed had never explained alchemy to Harry or his friends. How could he have missed this?! They’re babies! They know nothing! This is impossible!

“Okay, that’s fine, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll just start at the beginning!” Ed rambled, his voice increasing in pitch as his thoughts got more frantic. “We’ll be learning more chemistry than alchemy, but it’s fine, it’s fine, they didn’t even know what the periodic table was, it’s fine, it’s fine.”

Almost on autopilot, Ed grabbed a piece of chalk and began recreating the periodic table of elements on one of the chalkboards at the front of the room, all while continuing to mumble reassurances to himself. The students were all silently watching him, with only the occasional whisper. This was by far one of the weirdest classes they had ever had.

When he finished and turned around to face the class again, he seemed to have aged fifty years. In barely more than a whisper, he told the students to copy and memorize the board, before he crawled under his desk where he stayed for the remainder of the class, dreading the rest of the school year.

‘It’s okay, before I teach alchemy, I’ll just teach them the whole table of elements and the properties of atoms and the nature of compounds and chemical reactions and bonds and OH TRUTH, DO THEY EVEN KNOW WHAT ATOMS ARE?!’