Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Albus Dumbledore tried to use legilemency on Edward Elric to ensnare the boy’s mind he was in for a nasty surprise.  The boy’s mind was protected, hidden behind a large pair of stone doors in empty space. There was a white on white silhouette, with no features, sitting in front of said doors. Clearly, Dumbledore reasoned, this was the boy’s mental defenses, and very clever they were too, although hiding behind an obvious gate was ineffective, when all one had to do was open it. Although the white shape might be meant to be a guard. He approached the doors and pushed. Nothing. Ah well, perhaps if he went around them. He tried. Nothing happened.

“You cannot enter.  You haven’t paid the toll.”

The old wizard would deny jumping upon hearing that legion-like voice, but jump he did. The white shape had stood, and a grin had appeared on the white head.

“This boy is Mine, and you will pay for this trespass. For attempting to gain access to the True Knowledge, bypassing the Equivalence of the world, and for attempted enslavement of one of mine, you are denied what you desire. You will never know if your plans succeed or fail. You will die before they can come to fruition, Mis-ter Wiz-zard. ”

This was no mental guardian! Trying to squelch the beginnings of fear, he asked it, “Who are you?”

“Who am I? I’m so glad you asked. One name you might have for me is the World. Or the Universe. Or perhaps God, or perhaps The Truth. I am all, and I am one. Which of course means that I am also, You.

The Gates opened, and the old wizard tried to withdraw from the boy’s mind. He did not want to see what was on the other side. “Oh no you don’t. I am the Truth of your arrogance, the inescapable price of your deceit. And now, I shall extract from you the price you must pay.” The wizard was effortlessly lifted by the white shape, and drop-kicked into the Gate.

 He struggled uselessly as the hands dragged him into the Gate, and the eye within it. The doors slammed shut. He was pulled through the blackness and could feel himself disintegrating, as it felt like his mind was being scrubbed out, scoured clean. Then there was a jerk and he was back in his body, in his office, and feeling pain explode in his newly broken nose. There was a clap, blue light filled the room, the boy slammed his hands on the ground, and everything in his office became a coil of material wrapping around him and fusing with the wall.  His desk, everything on it, the devices linked to the wards at Privet Drive, all went into binding him securely to the wall.

“Try to trap me will you, you old bastard!”  The Elric boy spat, picking up the Elder wand from where it had fallen. “You wizards seem so attached to your sticks. I wonder how much you can do without one.” He snapped it. “And that Harry kid you were planning to use and left in an abusive home, well he won’t be staying there. Al and I will take better care of him than you.” He marched out the door, leaving Dumbledore hanging there, reeling over the fact that the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the most powerful wand in the world, crafted by Death, had been snapped. He didn’t even wonder how the Elric boy had done what he’d done to the office. Yet.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” said the Sorting Hat. “Even if you as the head of the school are only obliged to listen to my advice, not do what I say, I told you that trying to mind scan an alchemist was a bad idea.”

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong Brother?” Al said, following him in a clatter of metal.

“That old bastard tried to enslave me! He went into my head and poked at the Gate. It told me what he tried to do and gave me a copy of everything he knew and was up to until he poked my Gate. I should’ve done worse that stick him to the wall and break his nose.”

“He tried to enslave you? You stuck him to the wall? How did he try– The Gate?! The Gate told you what he did? You went to it?! Brother!”

“No I didn’t go to it! I’m not crazy Al. I just have a bit of it. You do too for that matter, and so does Teacher. We all went to it and came out sane so we got to take a bit of it back with us. You didn’t know?” He felt it shift in the back of his mind, still angry with the trespasser, and proud of him, pleased he was talking about it. Sometimes his bit of the Gate reminded him of one of Al’s cats, but Al’s cats didn’t grin. They didn’t have the proper facial structure to grin. Fetch the boy, the one the trespasser wanted to use, The Gate reminded him. “C’mon Al. We have somewhere to be.”

“Where Brother? What do you mean?”

“The old bastard stuck a kid with abusive relatives so he could swoop in and rescue him, and the kid would be so grateful he’d do whatever the old guy wanted. We’re going to fix that.”

Man this street was dull. Every house the same. Oh wait, they had different flowerbeds. The one with the four on it was the one they wanted. And that was the kid they wanted too, watering the flowers under the fishy glare of a woman who looked enough like a horse that he half wondered if she was a chimera.

“Hey, lady, we’re here for the kid. Give him over and we won’t call the authorities on you for abuse. ” He could feel Al’s exasperation radiating at him, but pretended not to notice it.

“Take the little brat!” she hissed. “We never wanted him anyway. Promise he’ll never darken my door again and he’s all yours.”

“Fine, he’ll be taken very good care of, far away from you. Harry, come here.”

“Go with them, Boy.”

The kid slowly shuffled over to them. Ed made an effort to look unintimidating, and reminded himself that the kid was used to being mistreated, so he had to be careful.

Ed stalked though the hall, dripping wet. He liked the kid, and was glad they’d rescued him, but it was hard enough to make Al put the cats back before. Contrary to what Al thought, he did care about the cats, but it really wasn’t practical to keep them. Why, oh why did Harry have to like cats too? Suits of armor shouldn’t be able to give puppy dog eyes, but Al managed it anyway, and now he had to deal with emerald green puppy dog eyes as well, and take the guilt of not giving the kid who’d never had anything something he wanted, and leaving that cat stuck out in the rain.

It was Al’s turn to carry the kid, Ed would be dammed if he let Mustang see him with a small child who wasn’t Elysia, he’d never live it down. He noticed Falman and Furey get out of his way, and then stare at Al carrying the kid, but his attention was focused on the door ahead. He could almost feel the Bastard sitting at his desk behind it, readying that smug little smirk of his, thinking up insults, or getting threatened by Hawkeye. He liked that image, Colonel Bastard sitting there, scribbling furiously at his paperwork, Hawkeye’s gun pointed at his head.

He kicked the door open. “Hey! Bastard Colonel! Al and I just rescued a kid. You’re helping us find a place to stay. And that lead was a total dead end. I am never going Outside again, everyone there is too stupid to live! And they’ve all bought into this cult thing where they do alchemy through twigs and call it magic!”

Surprisingly the Bastard looked relieved to see him. Then Ed’s tunnel vison widened and he noticed Major Hughes, and the pictures he had. That explained it.

“Well that’s why we’ve left the Xerxesian barrier up; even Xing agrees that the Outsiders are stupid, and they have one of the anchoring arrays just offshore.”

“Well, that and the fact that no one can figure out how to remove it without setting the energy loose and causing a huge explosion.” Ed muttered.

The Bastard pretended he hadn’t heard that, of course the Bastard pretended he hadn’t heard that. Instead the Bastard started to say something, looking smug. Ed really wanted to land a steel fist in his smug smirk.

“What was that about a kid?” Hughes interrupted. Al and Hawkeye came in at that moment, Al radiating; I’m-sorry-Brother, she-cornered-me, please-don’t-kill-me-or-make-me-spend-time –with-Armstrong.

“I believe he was referring to the child Alphonse is carrying. Sir.” Hawkeye gave the Bastard a suspicious, I know you hid the paperwork, your desk is too clean and I didn’t see anyone carrying it out, look. Ed found it amazing what she managed to cram into the word Sir. Maybe it was a scary woman thing, Teacher and Granny had done that too. Fortunately Winry hadn’t mastered that yet.

“This is Harry. We rescued him.” Edward said, deliberately uncooperative. Colonel Bastard looked like he was getting a headache, and Ed had barely gotten started. The day was looking up. He cheered mentally; he had an ally in the Give-the-Bastard-Colonel-a-headache game. Al might disapprove, but it looked like Hughes was on his side.

“You rescued a kid? I want details. Fullmetal, give me a short summary of your report.”

“WHO’SO TINY HE COULD BUILD A HOUSE IN THE NUCLEUS OF AN ATOM? WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA CALL ME, SO TINY I COULD RIDE AN AMOEBA LIKE A HORSE, OR SO SMALL THAT BACTERI WOULDN’T EVEN TRY TO EAT ME, BECAUSE I’M SO SMALL I ESCAPE THEIR NOTICE! I’M STILL GROWING YOU BASTARD!”

The Bastard looked like his headache had grown exponentially. At least he’d lost that smug little smirk. Then Ed heard the warning rustle of doom and froze. “Ed calm down. Here! Look at my pictures of Elysia, she’s almost a year old and already learning to walk! She’s so precocious, and the determination on her little face, isn’t she the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?!”

In annoyance, Ed said the first thing that came to mind. “No, she isn’t.” Oh crap he’s going to blow up at me or meltdown what can I do to fix this? Ahah! “Al was cuter.” He added hastily.

Everyone stared at him. Then they all turned around to stare at Al, probably trying to reconcile cute with the intimidating, seven foot tall suit of armor his little brother was inhabiting.
He didn’t see why they were having trouble. Even as a suit of armor, Al was still cute. Sure he could be scary when he wanted to be, but this was his little brother, the one who’d cried all over him when he finally figured out their Rotten Bastard Dad wasn’t coming home, who was scared of thunder, and had always crawled into Ed’s bed when it was stormy, who’d loved reading about alchemy with him in The Bastard’s books, but always stayed away from the corner with the armor collection, saying he wasn’t scared. The little brother he had to get back to normal again.

Harry, who must’ve been really tired to sleep through the short rant, stirred. Hughes immediately pulled out his camera and began snapping pictures. Then he said “This kid looks like he’s starving, Al, you take him down to get some food now, and bring him by later so Gracia can feed him properly.”

Al nodded and left. The minute Al was out of the room Hughes and the Bastard demanded an explanation. Hawkeye just Looked at him. Ed explained. “The people Outside are divided, alchemists hide from non-alchemists, they do alchemy through sticks and call it magic, and there was some terrorist who didn’t like people who weren’t born to alchemy learning it. The kid’s credited with stopping the terrorist when he was one, even though his parents probably did it, and the old bastard everyone looks up to so much that he might as well be officially in charge, decided the kid was an important weapon and dropped him with abusive relatives, planning to swoop in and rescue him in about six years. The old guy was the only one who might know where the stone was so I went to ask him politely,” Mustang stirred at this. Ed silently dared him to say anything. “But he decided he wanted a pet alchemist and tried to make me a slave so I stuck him to the wall, took the kid, and came back.” He paused, remembering, then added, “I wonder how long it’ll take them to get him out of the wall…”

“Someone actually thought they could keep you by force? You’d better not have given me more paperwork, Fullmetal.”

“Edward, what are you going to do with a small child?” Hawkeye cut in. He switched tracks from ‘annoy Colonel Bastard’ to ‘be nice to Hawkeye and hope she doesn’t shoot me.’

“We’re gonna take care of him.” Wasn’t it obvious? Oh look, Mustang was wincing, ten points! Special bonus points for getting an expression out of Hawkeye and silencing Hughes, proceed to next level!

After a long silence Hughes, ever irrepressible, broke the silence with, “Well, you’re staying with me and Gracia while you work things out. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking care of him long term if you need somewhere for him to stay while you travel.”

Ed tactfully didn’t object to plans being made for him. See Al, he did know the meaning of the word tact.

“Thank you Hughes,” said the Bastard.

“Oh it’s no problem, besides, it’ll be good practice for when Elysia grows up!” Ed made his escape, but heard behind him the cheerful words that were dreaded throughout Central among everybody who knew Hughes “and I need to show you the rest of the pictures!” Hawkeye sighed in relief next to him as they ran for it.

Five minutes later, after the last picture had been shoved in his face, Elysia wearing her mother’s hat, isn’t she adorable, and he had successfully refrained from snapping, he looked at his friend. “Ed… looking after a kid.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what part of that explanation was more disturbing, the fact that he’s planning on taking care of a five year old, the fact that someone wanted to put up with him, or the fact that someone was dumb enough to try to enslave him. I wonder how much of the building he left standing…”

“Well, he said he stuck the idiot to a wall, so there’s at least a wall left.” Maes pointed out.

“True,” Roy agreed. “Maybe I should wonder how many holes he left.”

“How long are you going to let him stay in Central this time?”

“As long as I can get away with it, considering…”

“Maybe we can find someone who wants to adopt a five year old.”

“You wish. Someone Ed would be willing to trust? Hawkeye and the rest are out, I don’t have a clue as to taking care of a child, even if he does look like we might be related. That would make it worse. And I doubt the lovely Gracia would be very happy with you if you just decide to take him in.”

“Gracia is an angel! —But you’re right Roy, on the other hand, if I tell her Elysia will need a role model closer to her age who isn’t Ed she might agree. Besides, they’re coming home tonight. Once she’s gotten to know him she might agree.”

Three days after the Elric boy had stormed out of the office, the staff finally succeeded in removing Dumbledore from the wall. It hadn’t been easy. A simple finite incantaem had done nothing, and neither had more complex reversal enchantments. It had been impossible to vanish the stone coils either, and eventually Minerva had had to transfigure that conglomeration of stone, metal, and wood that was fused into the wall, bit by bit, back into tiles and a desk. The first thing Dumbledore did upon being freed was to pay a visit to the hospital wing for the severe malnutrition and dehydration. Poppy refused to let him have any lemon drops, and to add insult to injury, Fawkes had vanished, and would not cure the aches with his song. The phoenix had been missing for three days now, having sung a little trill and vanished, just after the Elric boy had left the room.

Chapter Text

Days passed, Ed, Al and Harry were comfortable at the Hughes house, it was at the same time sweet and disturbing, how desperate to be helpful the kid was, Ed thought. On the other hand he’d been willing to be helpful too, when he was that age, and it wasn’t like anybody minded. And the kid was quickly worming his way into everyone’s hearts. Then it happened.

It happened on a calm evening, where everyone had turned up or been dragged out of their office at gun and photo point, and the smell of Gracia’s cooking filled the air. Havoc was bemoaning the confiscation of his cigarettes, Hawkeye looked like she wanted another gun to threaten him with, Falman was helping with a case, Ed was avoiding being roped into Elysia entertainment, and Al and Furey were the aforementioned entertainment, taking turns playing with her, and chasing Ed. Harry was helping set the table, looking, according to Hughes, adorably earnest. Ed bolted through the room again, cackling manically. That was what did it. Harry was so startled he tripped over his own feet, and the plate went sailing through the air, to land with a loud crash on the floor and shatter. Harry went white.

Ed stopped, and said “Thanks Harry, if I’m fixing something it’ll count as my Elysia entertainment and Al will get off my case.” Everyone stared, not just shocked by the words, but the gentle tone. Was this really Ed? Fullmetal the Loud, as Mustang had once dubbed him, unfortunately within Ed’s hearing.

The camera stopped clicking, and Hughes said “Ed, no alchemy in the—”

Ed gave him a Look, and clapped, then touched the pile of pieces. Blue light flared, and settled. Ed picked up the plate, and set it on the table where it belonged. “See, everything’s fine.”

“So you won’t hit me then?” Everyone froze.

“Of course not!” Ed replied.

“What do you mean, hit you?” “Of course not!” Al and Hughes tumbled over each other’s words.

“But uncle Vernon said that there was no way I’d learn what not to do if I wasn’t hit. And that because I was stupid I slept in the closet. That if I could learn I could have more of a room.”

“Now I wish I’d let Brother do things the way he wanted to.” Al said quietly, metal grinding as he clenched his fists.

There were more reassurances, and then the whole conversation was ended by Gracia hurriedly fetching the quiche before it burned.

The next day everybody pounced on the brothers.

“Fullmetal, Explain what you know about that kid’s past now.” Click. “Please.”

Ed explained. He told them everything, except the bit about the Gate. That was private. By the end, even the Bastard Colonel had a horrified expression. Hughes was clutching the Elysia photos like a lifeline, Hawkeye was cleaning her gun furiously, the Bastard was sitting on his hands so as to not snap, and Havoc was muttering with the other three. Dire threats were emerging from that corner. Ed took a few mental notes.

“You did the right thing Ed.”

Free at last! Now, to reconnect the wards on Harry and Privet drive. He had backup devices, but they would have to be tied in in person. To that end, he paid a visit to Privet Drive.

As he entered the street he noticed a lack of magic in the air, and began to worry. Had he miscalculated upon creating the monitoring devices, and had their destruction brought down the wards as well? Was it possible that he could have made such a grave error?

Ten minutes later he stood on the step, dazed. Harry gone?!this overturned every plan, how could he mold young Harry properly into a loving and self-sacrificing boy who would die willingly for the Greater Good of the Wizarding world, and in doing so grant him and his followers the same protection that Lilly had granted him, if Harry wasn’t there?! How could he ensure the defeat of Voldemort in accordance with the prophesy, without the destined one that the prophesy spoke of? How could he obtain the power the Dark Lord knew not for his own without the one who bore it? How could he gain the ability to survive the Death spell without a good long look at young Harry’s power?

But the Elric boy had carried out his threat and Harry was gone. For a moment a memory flashed. Of white and a grin and you are denied what you desire. No, that was unrelated, he just had to tell himself that and soon he would believe it. The brat had a week on him already; clearly Albus had to use every method at his disposal to find him and the Potter boy. And when he found him, well he needed an alchemist on his side in the coming battles, it was for the Greater Good, he would have an alchemist, by Any. Means. Necessary. Now since legilimancy had not worked, he would have to try compulsion charms and potions next. Perhaps a stay in Azkaban would soften the boy up, and then he could arrange for the brat to be released and earn his gratitude. Plans made he called for the Order, to begin arranging a search.

They were traveling again, and Ed was a bit nervous about where this mission was taking them, it was a bit too close to Dublith, and Teacher’s home. Harry was with them. He was under Al’s watch if there was a fight, but the rest of the time Ed and Al were taking turns. The mission had been easy. So easy that Ed was just waiting for things to go wrong, and go wrong they did.

It was in the train station. First the train they’d been going to take was delayed, so they came back the next day. As they were waiting to get on, someone got off.

By the time he saw her it was too late. “Hello my Idiot Pupils,” came a growl.

“Meep.” Al said. “T- Teacher!”

“Hello Teacher.” Damm, I knew things were going too well. The Gate laughed, and he gave it a mental glare. He noticed Harry trying to hide behind Al’s leg. She took a breath, but Ed, in a fit of bravery that even surprised him, interrupted Teacher. “This is Harry. We rescued him.”

“Did you? Well then you’re coming to dinner and telling me all about it.” She gave him a sharp glare. He and Al meekly picked up their luggage and then the three boys followed her. Stop laughing, Ed hissed at the Gate. It wasn’t usually this loud.

There was a pause after he finished informing the Order of the happenings of the past week, suitably tailored of course. Only he fully understood the Greater Good, and some people might be squeamish about the requirements of the Greater Good. Having allowed enough time to pass for the magnitude of the situation to sink into their minds, he began to outline the basic plans for a search. They would have to keep this from the Ministry and general public for as long as possible, to avoid a panic about the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived; but perhaps a search for the Elric brat was something that the ministry could be used for. After all his looks were striking, even if he had given a false name, for there were no families by the name of Elric known to the Wizarding world, and he clearly had a great deal of power and skill for someone so young, which made it all the more important that he be recruited, for proper tutoring and guidance.

“What did he look like again?” Remus Lupin asked.

Albus pounced. “Have you seen him?!”

“No, but the description is familiar, from something I read, a long time ago.”

“If you could track it down, that might be helpful. But it was in a book?” Albus was startled.

“A very old book with archaic phrasing. I remember that much.”

“If it’s that old, it isn’t likely to be helpful.” Alastor put in skeptically.

“Still it’s something Alastor.” Albus pointed out. “And it may have a clue as to the origin of his strange power. What he did to my office was not normal magic.”

It was after dinner, Harry was sleeping, and Ed had decided to not test Teacher’s patience, and was explaining.

“And that’s what happened.”

“I see. You said he’s a good luck charm to the idiots Outside, and that he was important to their plans. Are they likely to come after him?”

“If they can get through the Xerxesian Barrier they might. But I don’t think they can.”

“You can’t take care of him long term Edward. While I may not approve of the path you’ve taken, I have no right to challenge it either. But you can’t drag him along the way you do Al, and expect things to work out.”

“I know, but—”

“So there’s only one thing to do, I’ll take him.”

“What!”

“I’ll take him.”

Ed thought. If anyone other than me could protect Harry, it’s Teacher, I’d like to see any wizard get the better of her! And there’s no way I could stop her either, so… “All right. But he’s gotten used to me and Al, so we’ll stay for a few more days.”

“Good, that means I can retrain you.” Ed and Al shared a ‘what have we gotten into’, look.

A week later they left, after getting beat up by Teacher and gladly discovering that Harry was losing his tendency to flinch.

“Edward, where’s Harry?”

“Our alchemy teacher took him in. I know she can take care of him and teach him to take care of himself.”

“She lives in Dublith if you want to visit.” Al added.

Several weeks passed during which the Order searched, quietly, but urgently, for Harry. They were meeting again now. “Anything?”

A chorus of No’s answered him. “My ministry contacts haven’t found anything.” Elphias Doge added. “It’s as if this Edward Elric is utterly nonexistent.”

“Has it occurred to you, that Harry might be dead?”

“ He is alive, Alastor. The only remaining charm tells me that much, but without the others to reinforce it the life sign tracing charm will wear off eventually.”

“Life sign tracing charm? Well that would’ve been bloody helpful to know. Can you—”

“It gives no sense of direction,” Albus cut him off.

“So he’s alive, but he and this Elric person have disappeared off the face of the earth. Should’ve been more vigilant.”

Out of nowhere Remus spoke up. “That might be more realistic than you realize Moody. I found the book.” He placed a book on the table. It was old, leather bound, and well preserved, with the title Legends of the Ancients, embossed on it in gold.

“What does an old book of legends have to do with anything? Lupin—”

“I must admit to wondering that myself,” Albus put in, before a fight could break out.

“Yes, well, look here.” He opened it to a page titled, Alfoné: The Vanished Land.

“Not all of us can read runes Lupin.” Alastor commented. Albus who could, was about to reprimand him, but fell silent as he caught sight of the paragraph. He only barely registered Remus stating “Well then, I’ll read it out loud.

Yea, they were indeed the people of the sun for how else could they have such sunfire hair, and, power the likes of which no magids could replicate, or eyes of such molten gold, the people of that vanished land. It is believed amongst the powerless that it was drowned in a great flood due to the evil of its people, but we of power know that growing tired of the dissent in the world, they chose to hide their lands, beyond bounds that none can find, behind barriers unseen. And yet they have not abandoned us entirely, these children of the sun, for some have yet been seen, and they may always be known by their sunfire hair, and eyes like unto the sun, these children of Alfoné.”

Silence reigned in the room for a long minute. Then muggleborn Emmeline Vance yelped, “Atlantis?”

A heated debate ensued, on whether or not to follow up on this legend and look for the continent of Alfoné, or to leave it.

“He fits! And they’ve vanished, like they went behind a barrier!”

“Rubbish, this is a myth! There’s no point in chasing a myth, it’s a wild goose chase!”

Albus thought. It might be a myth, but then so were the deathly hallows, and he had successfully found two of them. He thought regretfully of the broken Elder Wand. The boy would pay for that. And the brat fit the description in every way, even the damage he had done. His eyes fell again on the page. The power to alter what is, unchallenged by magic, and in such a way that magic could not undo it. “We will search for it,” he said.

Chapter Text

Over time Ed and Al took breaks between missions to go visit, and Ed was very startled to find out, on the third visit, that Harry had grown his hair out, and had started braiding it. “I want to look like you!” he said cheerfully. Ed didn’t say anything. He also didn’t say anything when he found out that Breda and Hawkeye had made separate visits, or that Hughes had requested vacation time and taken his family south for a while.

Ed stared out the window the Führer had just left by, turning the man’s words over thoughtfully. Traitors in the military. He looked at Hughes, who was staring at the drawings from Lab 5. “Maybe you shouldn’t poke into that stuff using military resources.”

“Hm, what do you mean Ed?”

“He said there were spies, so maybe you shouldn’t poke into this using military resources, it would probably be noticed.”

Ed tensed, and dodged the black haired missile aimed at him in a flying tackle. Dogs no, little brothers yes, he could dodge them. Harry had changed a lot in the two years since they’d rescued him, and grown able to defend himself, under Teacher’s guidance. He didn’t flinch anymore, or cling to someone he trusted when new people were in the area. He also didn’t start to shake when he made a mistake, expecting to be hit. He was confident now, and intelligent, or dared to show intelligence now.

“Look what I can do!” and he was learning alchemy, also. Last time that he and Al had been in the area, Harry had been learning the basics. Now he had some skill at plant alchemy, and had said he wanted to learn healing if he could, when he was older. Ed watched, impressed as the seeds that had been placed in the center of the circle sprouted. He might only be able to work with bean plants, and precut wood, but it was still a good skill to have.

Sirius stared at the paper one of the wizard guards had thrown in his face. Boy-Who-Lived missing, screamed the headlines. He scanned it franticly. Relatives’ home, three years, kidnapped, impossible to find, possible work of you-know-who’s supporters. All jumped out at him. He changed into Padfoot, feeling the magic come more easily in that shape, as he’d noticed some years ago. He had to get out of here, he had to find Harry. Forcing that thought to stay in the front of his mind, he apparated.

Some weeks after Lab Five, Ed and Al had just come back to Central from visiting Harry and Teacher, where they had talked about the Gate, and met a being that should be impossible. A homunculus. And what had the Fuhrer been doing in Dublith personally anyway? Why had he risked himself to come catch Greed? Why had he been so persistent in trying to get Teacher to join the military? And Ed hadn’t liked the look he’d given Harry, as if considering something. Armstrong had said something weird too, after a mention of Greed having the Ouroborus tattoo. He’d said that it wasn’t safe to talk here, and that they needed to talk to Hughes and Colonel Bastard. And to top it off, Al seemed to have found another stray, if the way he was crouching in that alleyway meant anything. Last time Al had found a Stray Ling, who was even more trouble than a cat.

“Put it back Al.”

“But Brother—”

“We can’t keep any cats right now Al. Put it back.”

“Brother, I think he’ll die if we leave him here.” He sighed and strolled over, expecting a cat with a scrape or something. What he found was not that at all. The large, black, dangerously thin, bleeding, dog, really did look like it might die. He couldn’t leave it there. And besides, it was a dog, not a cat, and dogs like traveling, and followed their masters. A dog could be useful, and if Al was busy taking care of it, a small part of him whispered, then he’d be less likely to beg for cats. After all, everybody knew about cats and dogs, even Al.

“Ok Al, pick him up and take him to a vet. I’ll go argue with Colonel Bastard for a while. And don’t tell Colonel Sarcasm that we have a dog, no one wants him to go all Armstrong about them again, not after the burns to the last idiot who insulted them in the Bastard Pyro’s hearing.” As they separated he could swear he felt the Gate smile.

Albus closed the book, it had been useless. He had hoped that there might be something in the old texts about remote suggestion and mental control that might be safe to use on an alchemist unlike Legilimantic nudges and traps, but there were no such spells. It seemed his best bet at obtaining an alchemist’s loyalty was to either find Nicholas, who had vanished again, or to reach Alfoné. Even if they found it, he doubted they could transport a dementor there. Perhaps stunning one from behind and leaving him in Azkaban and then awakening him after a suitable amount of time, having allowed the dementors to do their work on his unconscious mind, leaving him with a moldable pawn.

The entire country was a giant transmutation circle?! He didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense, terrible sense out of everything. Pointless fighting, the mess in Liore, the lack of surrenders he’d heard about Ishval, everything. There was just one point missing on that circle, a place up in the north. Hughes said that Armstrong had a sister who commanded that border, and that it was unlikely that anything could cause that much bloodshed under her command.

Ah Xerxes, place of blistering heat and tumbled rock. The birthplace of alchemy and possibly in these ruins there might be something useful about the Gate, or just bio-alchemy. For somewhere once called the city of gold it sure wasn’t very golden. He knew it hadn’t been called that for a ton of gold here, but he’d thought that maybe that had meant the color of the rock. But no, it was all white stone. “The oldest stories say,” Madam Shan answered his thought, “that it was called that for its people, the golden people, with hair and eyes like the sun.” Ed froze, brain crunching to a pause. Gold hair. Gold eyes. Not blond, gold, like nothing he’d ever found anywhere except in the mirror, or Al when he was flesh. Gold hair, gold eyes, which they’d both inherited from their Rotten Bastard Father. It shouldn’t be possible, but there it was. And who was he to talk about what was possible with a soul bound younger brother, the knowledge of Truth in his head, and having faced homunculi. With the number of impossible things that had already happened, this wasn’t even very big. But how? Any Xeresian genetics wouldn’t be this strong centuries later, unless the Rotten Bastard was a throwback.

The Gate was laughing.

Lucius growled. Ever since the news broke about the Potter brat being missing, he had been doing some searching of his own, but here was nothing to be found. He suspected the boy was dead, killed by the person, most likely a metamorph, who had taken him. And this morning, a floo call had come from the minister, who had apologized profusely, but explained that due to pressure he had to be seen doing something, and so he, Lucius Malfoy, was about to be arrested. Fudge had also said that it would only be for a few days, and then he would be out again, but still the indignity! He resolved to cut back on the bribes for some years. Slow vengeance.
 

Then he felt the chill of dementors. Fudge, that incompetent nitwit , had said nothing about dementors. While he was quite confident that he would not be Kisssed, dementors had a mostly unknown ability to sense certain artifacts. And he suspected that the slim leather-bound book amongst all the other books, was one such artifact. If the dementor found it, his Lord would be most angry with him when he rose again.

Why did he like Ling again? The Idiot Prince was a pain in the neck, who’d just gone and gotten himself turned into a homunculus. Why was he worried about him? But, somehow, some way, during that whole thing in Gluttony, the Idiot Prince had gone and grown on him, like moss on a wet rock. Why had the Idiot Prince gone and been turned into a homunculus, and how was he supposed to put Ed down in history as Man Who Fed a Shoe to the Emperor.

Chasing a rumor again, this time a girl who’d used something called Alkahestry. From what Ling had said, (better be alive in there Idiot Prince, there was a reason he hadn’t tried too hard to damage Greed.) Alkahestry was used for medical purposes, which meant it might be able to restore Al. But this time they were going north, to Briggs, and from everything he’d heard, the north was no place for a dog. Al would be devastated, and who could they leave Chaos with anyway? Colonel Must-nag was a possibility, but there was no way Ed was willing to owe him that much unless there was no other option. Hawkeye? Nah, Black Hayate wouldn’t like the competition. Wait a minute, Teacher! She’d liked Chaos, and Chaos liked her and Harry, and he’d seen Sig petting Chaos too. Problem solved, Dublith was the opposite direction from Briggs, but it wouldn’t take long.

He loved Briggs automail! He’d said it before and he’d say it again! But being here to get it came with a hell of a downside: General Armstrong was as scary as Teacher. And, she had an entire army under her command, who were as tough as she was, even though they weren’t as scary as Teacher. Not that Teacher couldn’t have an army if she wanted to, heck she’d probably have this army if she ever met General Armstrong, aaand why was the Gate laughing again?

I can’t die yet! Al! I have to fix him, I can’t let this kill me! And with them taking hostages, like Winry I have to save her, and oh crap, Harry! Wrath had an eye on him, and how can I get out of this?! Think dammit, think! There has to be a way! I didn’t survive Sloth attacking and making General Armstrong blame me to die here! Not a very good plan, but it’s my only chance! Heh. Gambling my life on chimeras again, how ironic.

Was that, or was it not Greed. If it was Greed what was the homunculus doing looking so beat up and tired? The figure collapsed. Ed had feeling he knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Ling, or is it Greed now?”

“Hungry… need…food….”

“Nah, its Ling.” Thank goodness, the Idiot Prince was all right.

Greed was too proud to say it, but Ed knew when someone was hiding being directionless, and making himself think he was in control. They argued a lot, and Ed usually won, sometimes neither he or Greed won because Ling won, and man was that weird watching the two of them argue, Greed yelling at thin air, and then Ling yelling at thin air, and the eyes opening and shutting so rapidly that he was amazed they didn’t have constant headaches. Somehow, he’d come to like Greed, not put up with him for the sake of keeping an eye on him and time with Ling.

Ling had told him, during a rare quiet moment, that Greed refused to admit liking them all. It’d been weird seeing the Idiot Prince so serious, then he’d broken it by asking if the food was ready yet. Crazy ninja prince. Oh well, at least some of those ninja skills were useful, like that sensing trick. Ed had actually managed to get the Idiot to teach him how to do that, but he could only pick out Lion King, Mister Gorilla, and Greeling from the background noise. The Idiot had told him that his own skill at that had improved drastically after Gluttony, and the White Thing. Ed understood, and didn’t say anything.

Albus was worried. Harry would be nine years old now, and there was still no hope of locating Alfoné. Oh, they had tried, but magic could find no trace of the continent. The upheaval caused by the news of Harry’s disappearance becoming public knowledge on the off chance that someone might know something useful, was still ongoing, even a year later. At this point it looked like they would have to hope that the owls, or his faithful Phoenix, if Fawkes was willing and able, could find him. How could that upstart Voldemort be destroyed if Harry didn’t come back and die for the Greater Good?!

Lunatic Prince with his lunatic Ninja! One lunatic Ninja had gone and got into the fight without even finishing healing from her surgery, and the other one had come well prepared with flash bombs, and was less of a lunatic than the other Xingese, was everyone from there insane or was it the ones he met?

Sunrise on the promised day. This was it, the big one. No going back, no second chance. He refused to believe that they’d lose, even if he wasn’t sure how they could win. They had to, and they did know that if you could just hit them enough times, even the seemingly undying homunculi would die. It could be done. Fu had gone ahead into the city, and had agreed to keep an eye out for Harry, in case he had been taken as a hostage against Teacher.

For the second time in as many minutes’ alchemic energy crackled across the country, as the self-activating circle of stone and shadow activated, returning the souls of the Amestrians to their bodies. Although the spell on one person, that would tell the caster if he was, alive had broken. But one soul, or rather, fragment of a soul, did not return, because there was no body, and it was only a fragment. It stayed in the stone, attaching to the core personality.

He’d lost Al and now this thing was trying for one of his friends too?! Hell no! Al would be at the Gate, safe. He knew. But no way this Gatespawn, (traitor, infidel, outcaste, escapee, scum! It dares! Never! Kill it, my alchemist!) Was taking one of his friends. He lunged. He punched it away from Greed/Ling, and clapped. He ran the arrays in his mind, and grabbed the thing. Structural analysis complete, check, body structure: solid flesh and muscle, no heart, but lungs. That was weird. Deconstruction.

“You know what you’ll pay?”

“This thing right here, it oughtta be enough. This is my Portal of Truth, so I get to decide how it’s used.”

“You’ve done it! That’s the right answer! But it isn’t something that I can take.”

Oh I didn’t want to do this. “You owe me for weakening that thing that was separated from here enough that you could drag it back. That has to equal something.”

“I do owe you. Which is why I’ll do this, Al-che-mist. There is a bit of leftover equivalence, a parasite that came to the gate with the traitor. That will equal your brother’s body, but what will you give me for his soul?”

Ed didn’t hesitate. “My arm again, it was enough before, so it should be equivalent again.”

“Yes, your arm is equivalent. We have a deal Mister Al-che-mist. Now get out of here, and try not to come back for at least ten years. Your brother is over there.”

Whiteness broke, the fragments lifting into the nothing and there was Al. His beautiful, perfect, insanely stubborn, idiotically selfless little brother! He was all right, he was whole and there, standing up with a soft smile— he’d really missed that smile— as Ed walked towards him.

“That was crazy Al.”

A laugh. “Speak for yourself.” And they walked through the Gate together.

Trust Hughes to practically kidnap them after everything was over, dragging them home. But he and Al couldn’t argue too much. The Rotten Bastard had vanished, for which he was both grateful and disappointed. Grateful because that meant that Hughes couldn’t drag him home too, and disappointed because he hadn’t gotten to punch the Rotten Bastard in the jaw again, maybe break his nose. Al was dangerously thin and rather shaky, but he was in no real danger, and there was no way in the Gate of Truth that Ed was condemning his precious little brother to a hospital just after getting his body back, besides all the hospitals were rather busy, what with all the fighting that had happened. And Gracia used to be a nurse, he’d gathered from the gushing, so she could check on Al.

None of them had expected to arrive at the house and find Chaos lounging on the doorstep. “Chaos?” Al said in surprise. Ed was busy thinking, if Chaos was here and that calm, then that meant… Gracia opened the door. Elysia peered around her, and Ed glimpsed a black braid behind the door. The stupid dog leaped up, barking enthusiastically, and Ed had just enough time to think oh no before the dog tackled him. Then even more weight piled onto him as Harry landed on top of the Dog. Growing irritation was banished by the sound of Al’s laughter, no longer metallic and echoing, but true and real. And then there were three gasps, a squeal, a hell of a lot of barking, and Ed had to get up in a hurry to keep them from tackling Al.

“You did it, you did it, you stopped them, and Al, you’re really thin! Whoa… are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, really. What are you doing here?”

“Those people you were fighting caught me…” he said in a very small voice. “I couldn’t fight them, I tried, and I gave one of them a black eye, but I couldn’t stop them. The shadows… I got out when the fighting started, and the people they had guarding me were distracted. And an old guy found me and brought me here. Chaos found me too.” He sniffled, holding back tears. Ed pulled both of his precious younger brothers into a hug.

Harry cried.

Gracia told them later that an old man had brought a rather battered looking Harry, and an exhausted Chaos to the doorstep, asked her to take care of them, and departed just before the fighting really started. Fu had kept his promise then. Ed would have to repay Ling and LanFan, in place of the dead ninja. Equivalent Exchange.

Chapter Text

Time passed, and everyone recovered from the Promised day. Izumi, Sig, and Harry went home. Ed and Al decided to stay in Central for a while longer and rest, before returning to Resembul. Ed had cashed in his long built up vacation time, but hadn’t quite decided if he wanted to resign completely. After all he did have friends in the military.

“I want to rebuild Xerxes. It would make a good waypoint between here and Xing.”

“Yes, there’s talk of a railway between here and Xing. Have you told old man Grumman about this? Because you’ll need resources, and people, and we’ve only just finished with Ishval. And I’m glad you’re interested Fullmetal, but why should you be involved? Not that I particularly mind, but Grumman will need a reason.”

“Who better than me? My Bastard Dad was the last survivor, who has more right than me?!”

“That’ll do. Now you’ll need resources, and helpers and—”

“Nah, I won’t need anything like that. Just have people ready to move in when I’m done.”

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t do that as much around Ed as he used to, which was why Ed had abandoned his ‘give Colonel Bastard a headache ‘ game. “If you insist, but don’t come complaining to me if you’re wrong, and don’t give me any paperwork. And since I’m the one taking this to Grumman, you have to put something about me in it.”

As he left he heard Mustang say to Hawkeye: “I shouldn’t have said anything. Ed looked thoughtful. That’s a bad sign.”

He stood in the center, the ruins of the palace, and called on his Gate given knowledge. He overlaid the image of the thriving city with the ruins, and clapped, transmuting a model of the city out of stone at his feet, a miniature map. Then he looked at it, focused, and clapped again, slamming his mismatched hands on the ground. The reaction chained outwards, power crackling through the ground to the edge of the ruins. The ground shook, the sand cascaded, and the cracked stone reformed. Pillars that had toppled stood upright once again, buildings flew back together from the ground up, streets became clearly defined, and gaps where the stone had been worn away by time were filled in, as he completed them with the sand.

He pulled up the stone that had been buried for miles around, repairing it, and restoring old roads, where they were anything more than lack of buildings. He reached deep and found the clogged springs that fed the oasis, and reconstructed the silt and muck into a few underground pipes. He pulled ground water to the surface, and rearranged minerals in the ground, changing sand to somewhat sandy soil for fifteen miles. He felt the Gate’s power in the transmutation adding something undefinable to his work, leaving a sense behind that things could grow here, rather like his removing silt.

Next, to decorate, he added gargoyles on every rooftop, and changed the mural behind him. First he put the city of Xerxes as it had been centuries ago, then showed the ancient alchemists summoning the Homunculus, and it tricking them into their own destruction. He didn’t show the array that had been made, but he did show the idiot king who’d betrayed his people and destroyed his city. Then he showed the fall of Xerxes, the Homunculus plotting, the Seven offshoots of the Homunculus, and the rise of Amestris. He then showed Greed walking out on the others, going his own way. He added himself and Al at their human transmutation, and the Truth taking its toll. He put down Al in the armor, and as a human.

      He added his friends and Colonel Bastard, then he showed Hughes figuring out the secret of Amestris. He showed the Bastard Colonel, Al and Hawkeye defeating Lust, Wrath capturing Greed, and what he’d inferred about Greed’s death from things that Greeling had slipped up about plus what Ling had said. He showed the fight in the forest against Envy and Gluttony. He reshaped the room to add enough space for Envy’s revolting transformation into its true form. He added The Gate, again, this time with Al in front of it. He showed Ling becoming Greed, and the fight in the Bearded Bastard’s lair.

      He showed the journey north, and Briggs. He rearranged the halls to add enough room for General Armstrong freezing Sloth, and Pride’s shadows in the tunnel. He showed the four Chimera, two joining Al, and the fight with Kimblee, then the other two joining him in the mineshaft. He showed what Al had told him about the first defeat of Envy, followed by Greed’s second rebellion, and the alliance he, Lion King, and Mr. Gorilla had made with Greed/Ling. He showed the gathering of allies, against the Day of Reckoning, and the events of that day itself, beginning with the first fight against Pride and Gluttony.

He showed Pride devouring Gluttony, and Al’s insane plan to trap Pride. He showed the upheaval in Central, stemming from the attempt to kill Wrath. He showed the mannequins, and what Mei had told him about Envy eating them to regain its power. He showed the homunculus in its revolting true form, and it eating the gate eye that had become the moon and sun. He showed the final battle, ending with one last deconstructive punch. Then he put the Gate reclaiming the homunculus, and his last desperate bargain with Truth.

He showed the recovery of Al, his beautiful, perfect, little brother, who was so much better and brighter than he was. Then, on an afterthought, he placed Truth and the Gate at the beginning of the story, and the end, designing the doors into the room to resemble his and Al’s Gates. He etched self-contained pairs of circles that stored energy in a feedback loop and would discharge kinetic energy to open the Gates.

He covered the walls of the surrounding halls with alchemic knowledge that he’d gotten from the Gate, so other people could learn it, if they were smart enough to decode it, without going through that. Then he kept his promise to add something about Colonel Sarcasm to the city, and on a whim, made it a statue of a horse. Then he let the transmutation fade. The main hall would show people why meddling with the Gate was a bad idea, and how it had almost destroyed the world. He’d made Xerxes a place of history and warnings.

He was surprised at the fact that he only felt a little tired. He had expected to need two transmutations, one for the buildings, and one for the ground, but the equations had just kept blazing in the front of his mind, and the power had kept flowing, until he had to keep transmuting or it would recoil on him. It had been almost like that one and only time he had used a stone, the seemingly limitless power, but then it hadn’t just kept coming like this. This had been almost like— the Gate was quiet. The Gate felt like it was asleep. He poked it mentally. What happened? And why are you being quiet?

Cleaned land, healed traitors poison. Sleep, my alchemist. This was accompanied by a sensation almost like a bird putting its head under a wing. He shook his head, wondering just when he’d become somewhat fond of it and asked, will you be all right?

With sleep will be fine.

And in England and across most of Europe, the search for the boy who lived continued. Albus hoped that the life charm had simply worn off.

Years passed. Harry grew quietly in Dublith, Al recovered. Ed was still mad at him for telling everyone about the fact that he was going to ask Winry to marry him. They didn’t need to be blinded by camera flashes after she’d accepted the wrench. And he certainly hadn’t needed everyone except Hawkeye jumping out yelling congratulations, or Colonel Showoff snapping and making fifty foot high letters of fire, hang at about three hundred feet, blaring out the flaming message “CONGRATULATIONS FULLMETAL! SHE SAID YES!” Oh… the reporters had had a field day with that. He was still figuring out how he could top that once the idiot Colonel asked Hawkeye to marry him.

In a white void, a being which only had a mouth smiled. It was time to complete the toll the trespasser owed. The gate-shard held by its favorite Alchemist had kept that agent informed, and he was preparing now. In the wizarding world, its oldest agent trilled a laugh in response.

Chapter Text

 The owls had come back, their letters undelivered. Albus felt his heart sink: that had been his last hope. A long gloomy time passed. Then came flutter of wings as Fawkes soared into the chamber, singing at the top of his lungs. He felt his spirits lift. “Old friend? Do you think it is within your power to find him?” The phoenix trilled again. It sounded like laughter.

He gathered them, the ones he would take with him, whom he believed could contribute something to this effort to bring the Boy-Who-Lived home. For where else could he truly find a home but Hogwarts? He might believe he was at home now, but the moment he approached Hogwarts, he would know where his true home lay. Albus was sure of it, and had taken steps to make it so. The moment Harry Potter entered Hogwarts grounds, the magic would give him such a sense of welcome that he would never want to leave and would always long to return there. The three people he trusted most, a friend of the Potters to convince young Harry that he should come to the school, and the woman who had figured out the general area where Alfoné might be. She had looked in muggle ways, found shipping routes, cross referenced with known wizarding locations, and found a very large stretch of sea where no one, muggle or wizard, crossed. She was as creative a thinker as Severus was, though not a spell-crafter.

“I can’t believe you people” said the Sorting Hat. “After what happened six years ago, you still want to challenge alchemists?”

“We have to retrieve young Harry, and Fawkes is willing to help.” He managed to miss the way the phoenix was giving him a dirty look.

“That feather duster has its own agenda,” muttered the hat, and then louder “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

During the party after the wedding was over with, The Gate whispered. Ed stiffened, then made his way through the crowd over to Ling, who had taken some food and retreated into a corner.

“Ling, would you mind being distracting? Something just came up and I need to talk to Mustang without anyone paying attention to me. Since I’m the main attraction, that’s going to be hard, so would you mind?”

Ling’s head came up. “Sure, what came up? Is something going to happen?”

“Not before the week is over, but if you’re going to be sticking around for a while that would be helpful. Harry’s in danger; and it involves Outsiders.”

Ling hissed. “Will do, but you have to tell Greed and I what this is about later. I’ll get him to wake up.”

Ling stood and headed purposefully towards Al. Everybody turned to look at him, interested in what the Immortal Emperor of Xing was doing. Ed privately suspected he had been in the corner to avoid this kind of attention.

“So, Alphonse!” Ed cringed, knowing from the tone what sort of distraction Ling was planning. Then he saw Hughes put more film in the camera. “When are you going to ask my sister to marry you?!”

The room went dead silent. Ed made his way around the edge of the room to Mustang, mentally apologizing to Al all the way.

“We need to talk.”

As Ling was making a fuss, other things were happening in a desert city…

The flames dissipated, leaving them standing in a thriving city. Pale stone rose in graceful arcs forming doorways and pillars, columns and shaded walkways, and ramps and stairs into the largest building of all. Every rooftop had at least one gargoyle perched on it, guarding their domains ferociously. Blazing sun beat down overhead, tinging everything gold from the reflections of light on stone. A fountain gurgled merrily in the square, and trees shaded the walkways. They took it all in with wide eyes, panting in the unexpected heat. Fawkes trilled, and soared towards the elaborate building at the center. They followed.

It was blissfully cool inside the building, after the scorching heat outside. The walls were covered in complex sigils and lines, incomplete circles and runes of an unfamiliar kind everywhere. Fawkes led them unerringly past various rooms and halls, from which echoed voices, until they came to a long, straight, corridor. The writing on the walls became sparser and sparser, until only white stone was left. There seemed to be no one in front or behind them. And there was a peculiar muffling quality to this place, sound seeming very loud but somehow flat at the same time.

Stifled.

Suddenly they saw doors. Utterly massive roughhewn grey stone, carved with a design that slightly resembled a tree, as much as it could be said to resemble anything. In a distinct pattern were smooth places etched with words. A quarter of the way up, about head height, a circle connected two halves of the design. Words were carved around the edges of that circle as with the others, but unlike the others the word in the center was close enough to be legible: Adonai. The whole thing somehow gave off a feeling of ancientness. Dumbledore quailed. He had seen those doors, or something very like them, once before. In the mind of Edward Elric.

Minerva gave him a concerned look, but said nothing. Not one of their own was comfortable with this place. Fawkes hovered by the doors for a moment longer, and trilled, the sound coming jarringly loud and sweet in this surreal place. The doors swung open soundlessly.

Chapter Text

“Colonel Bastard, the Gate says the idiots from Outside are coming to try and take Harry.”

Colonel Bastard pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes for a long moment. “The Gate says?! I know you didn’t try human transmutation again, and there haven’t been any reports of you vanishing in either alchemic light or being deconstructed by black hands recently. And what was the toll!? Explain, Fullmetal!”

“Yeah, well, everyone who’s been there comes back with a piece of it, you, me, Teacher, Al, we’ve all got a permanent connection to it, and mine talks. It never shuts up, and that laughing feels so weird. Anyway it says that the Outsiders are coming. There wasn’t a toll, something about an incomplete payment and my help to complete it. ”

There was another long silence. “So it’s a toll from the Outsiders?”

“Seems like. That’s what the Gate says, when it’s not laughing.” He paused and then muttered, “Oh, shut up you! No I don’t care that it’s funny. You think everything’s funny, and if you want that toll complete. Let. Me. Think. Thank you. Sorry, Bastard Colonel, it wouldn’t shut up.”

“That’s General Bastard to you.”

“Whatever you say Colonel Bastard.”

“ Right…” The Bastard said on a long breath. “Fullmetal, how are they getting here? Why— you said when you brought him here that they wanted to use him as a weapon. Is that why? When will they get here, and would border guards be of any use?”

“Walking from Xerxes, yes, in about a week, no. And it’s sniggering and refusing to talk about how they wound up in Xerxes.”

“How many outsiders are coming and what are their capabilities?”

“Six. One is the Manipulative Twinkly Eyed Slaver Bastard whose nose I broke for trying to enslave me. I wonder how long it took those idiots to get him out of the wall…” He gave Colonel Bastard a fishy eye at the snicker he’d just heard, but continued, listing off everything he knew from the Slaver Bastard’s memories, ending with “And the Gate says they ought to be here on,” he named the date.

“Are these foci flammable?”

“Trust you to think of that, pyro. Yes they are.”

The commotion in the other room got louder, Ling’s voice echoing above the rest. Colonel Bastard winced. “We’d better get back or I think Al and your wife might kill you. I can still hear Ling going on, and it sounds like that old fox Grumman got involved too.”

The first thing the wizards noticed was the images on the walls. The second thing they noticed was the lighting. Light seemed to come from everywhere, with no definable source to it, scattering everything with hints of gold and reflecting off the white stone, where it was white, of the walls and floor. The images on the walls almost seemed to glow with color, giving a feeling that they might step down from said walls at any moment when you were not looking. Here and there people stood in little groups and clusters debating the images in hushed tones. Particularly eye-catching were the nearest images of a thriving city suddenly falling to ruin as a ball of black mist laughed, then taking on the form of a tall, bearded man, as another man who could be his twin, fled into the desert in despair. The mist-man stood with seven — beings— in a web of tunnels.

Fire danced on a wall, the female looking creature caught in it, burning, and yet attacking the man from whom the fire came, she healing and burning, and he continuing to kill her, until she fell to dust, and a red stone shattered. Farther on a creature that looked larger than a dragon towered up to the roof, as tormented faces cried out from the sides of its body.

The wizards stood, taking this in with a mix of awe and puzzlement, until Vance asked, “But why did Fawkes bring us here?”

Dumbledore took in a deep breath and said, “That’s him, that’s Elric.” He indicated one of the reoccurring figures in the images, which, Remus noted, were not painted, but the stone was simply a different color in those places, as if the hall had been built with the images naturally appearing in the stone of the walls. He also thought with a chill, that there were still no seams in the rock, any more than there were in the hall leading here. It was as if a mountain had formed in the shape of a building, all of a piece. They slowly walked down the hall, catching bits of conversation from other groups.

“ –really? This is what eclipse day was about?”

“Yeah, the Fullmetal kid found out things that saved all our hides.”

“I hear he built this entire city in five minutes, with just one transmutation, and the ruins that were already here.”

“Hey, is that the Emperor of Xing?”

“Wow you’re right, it’s weird seeing him in Amestrian clothes.”

“I thought he was immortal, so why does he look injured.”

“Are you sure that’s not just the fact that they’re in a sea of blood?”

“Look at the way he’s standing, that’s how people stand with broken ribs, to keep them from puncturing a lung.”

“Well maybe this is before he became immortal; after all, Fullmetal did help him get it.”

“Does someone know why there are dogs in these pictures?”

“The black and white belongs to Lieutenant Hawkeye, that’s her over there. I don’t know about the big black one though, but look, it’s biting the shape-shifter. ”

“Hey isn’t that the one that belongs to Fullmetal’s youngest brother? You know, the dark haired one.”

“Could be. Hey, if Edward and Alphonse are both gold eyed blondes, then how does their little brother have green eyes and dark hair?” Remus listened more closely.

“I heard he’s adopted.”

“I heard he’s their teacher’s son. Now she’s a scary lady.”

“Scarier than the ice queen of Briggs?”

“I thought there was only one… then she came in, and that huge bruiser. The one with the chains on, he’d been giving our ice queen and her brother a hard time, he was harder to kill than the others, because we couldn’t even get through his skin, then she came in and threw him across the room.”

Remus glanced at the image, feeling a surge of nostalgia for the simple days, before betrayal, when they had run together as a pack, and froze, staring at the bearlike black dog. That wasn’t just some resemblance, it was—

As they neared the end of the hall, Dumbledore sucked in a breath. The very last image was of an empty, shattered, suit of armor, and a boy who looked just like the Elric boy, despite being skin and bones, smiling, and gathered around him were many other people, including Harry Potter.

Ed beckoned Harry quietly to one side.

“Harry, some people are coming who want to take you away. If you see anyone with a long white beard, a twice broken nose and abysmal fashion sense—”

“Like you?”

“I have perfectly good senses of what looks good, I don’t wear magenta with gold and silver stars and moons.”

They shared a wince at the description.

“Anyway. If you see him, avoid him. Also anyone with a long crooked nose, a sneer, very pale skin, and greasy hair, or someone with a craggy face and a lot of scars, and a strange right eye, avoid them and find any of us. And never go anywhere without Chaos.”

“Why do they want me? Where are they coming from?” the kid was trembling like he’d been when they rescued him. Ed knelt, reaching eye level with Harry, and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’re coming from outside, and they’ll say they want to take you to a school where your birth parents went, but they actually want to use you. The old guy is the one who left you with those people Al and I rescued you from, intending to ‘rescue’ you, and use you like the military used to use State Alchemists.”

“Why do they think I need training? Mom teaches me, and what she doesn’t you or the others teach me. Cousin Winry taught me mechanics, and Uncle Fury taught me how to use a radio, and how to hack transmissions too. And Uncle Havoc and Aunt Riza promised to teach me how to shoot this year.” He was still unusually quiet, and subdued, but the shaking had stopped.

“They think you need training because they’re outsiders, they don’t understand us sensible people. They think anyone with power needs to hide their heads in sand, and hide from other people who don’t have it, and use power their way or not at all. Idiots, alchemy is alchemy, and Equivalence will come back and bite them, even if they call it magic… ”

“I don’t want to go back out there! I don’t want to go back to those people…” Ed cursed himself for having to bring up the kid’s past. He had been more subdued since the homunculi had kidnapped him three years ago, less cheerful, and now that he was finally healing from that three month stint as a hostage, they had to tell him that other people want to take him. It had been a close vote on whether or not to tell him at all, and if Greed hadn’t decided to vote for telling him, instead of being neutral like Ling then Colonel Bastard’s ‘don’t tell people anything even when it’s important and they could be more helpful if they knew’ mentality might have won.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let them take you away. We’re ready for them. Relax, after the homunculi this’ll be easy. ”

Chapter Text

It was the day the Gate had specified. Winry had forgiven Ed after he explained. Al had forgiven him the moment that Ling had yelled to the entire room that he and Mei were now engaged, screw what the royal advisors and matchmakers said. Al had vaguely registered it, but he had been rather preoccupied by the fact that Mei was kissing him, oh god Mei was kissing him…

All the extended family, adopted or by marriage, were there, and so were all the family friends. Ling had appeared with Lan Fan and Mei at the window, having abandoned the Emperor outfit for the black clothes Greed preferred— he was still Ling, but Greed was clearly awake. Everyone else trickled in over the morning, to be met by a black haired bundle of energy, and enthusiastic barking from Chaos. Ed had noticed that Colonel Bastard had his spark gloves on, Ling had a sword with him, and everybody else looked like they were expecting trouble at some point.

“Fullmetal, would your talking Gate happen to have told you when they’re coming?”

“No.” he returned his attention to the two chimera and Ling.

Roy pretended for his own sanity that there weren’t disturbing giggles, coupled with smirks, coming from that corner, and hadn’t been all day. Then Chaos managed to find a stick, and came bounding up, tail wagging, large stick in his mouth, and generally begging to play. So everyone went outside, and Ling vanished up the hedge to keep lookout, not that the others wouldn’t be on the lookout as well. Say what you like about the Armstrong family, but they certainly had the best place to handle this with few repercussions. Even if repairs were needed after the fact, people would just put it down to Armstrongs being Armstrongs.

“Albus, I really would rather you told us what the plan is.”

“Simple, my dear Minerva” he replied, making sure the slight glamour that caused a twinkle was in place. “Convince young Harry that it would be best to come to our school, and I’m sure he will enjoy his time at Hogwarts. Then we shall merely restore him to his rightful relatives each year and that will be that.”

“Professor, how will we convince him? I mean if he’s being raised by that Elric person, then he might not need training, after all, the kid did everything in those murals by the time he was fifteen, and the gossip says that he built that whole city in one day.”

“Rubbish, Vance. The murals are most likely exaggerated bragging mixed in with legends, or real events embellished for fame and glory.”

“Severus—” Albus began, but was interrupted by Alastor. “You’re both right, he probably didn’t do all the things in the mural, but we’d better be ready for someone who has. Constant Vigilance!”

“And even if he didn’t, that woman whom we saw with Harry at the end, was also shown with power, and threw the second biggest of those immortal monsters across a room and onto a pillar of spikes she made.” Remus pointed out. “And I gathered from what I overheard that she’s Elric’s teacher, and possibly Harry’s adopted mother.”

“Have you thought what might happen if these people don’t want Harry going our school?”

“Perhaps if we told him about all the things alchemy doesn’t seem to be able to do—” Vance started.

Albus cut her off, “I’m sure we can persuade him, Minerva.” She and Vance looked dissatisfied, but said nothing more. He reviewed the strength of will needed for a mass oblivate, and portkey. Compulsion charms were also a possible asset, but he was wary of trying that, because they were usually slow to act, and he found legilmantic mind magic gave better results. Ahead Fawkes soared, banking to the left, and leading them towards a mansion.

What. A. Mansion.

It had a long winding drive before one made it to the gate, multiple lawns inside that gate, and towering above the grounds was the mansion. It looked large enough to hide an army in, and put Malfoy manor to shame. Malfoy manor would be sucking a thumb and crying about how it could never be this grand and elegant instead of opulent. On one of the lawns people were playing; laughter and the sound of barking echoed.

Snape sneered. “If Potter has been raised here, than he will obviously be as arrogant as his father.”

An awesome bird swooped overhead, scarlet and gold were the best colors, and he would always hold to that. The Gate whispered, and Ed stiffened. “They’re here.” Ling dropped from the hedge next to him. “So you noticed too?”

“My freeloading parasite decided to be useful.” He sent the Gate a mental scowl about the other thing it had said Truth wanted. Truth says. It hissed back, offering its equivalent of a shrug.

I am not happy about this, he responded. But I’ll do it.

“Hey, Colonel Bastard! The Idiot Prince and I noticed Outsiders!”

“Then I shall go and greet them.” Armstrong said gravely. Ling scrambled back up the hedge.

A very large man, nearly as big as Hagrid, loomed out of one of the hedged lawns. A single curl of blond hair arced from his otherwise bald head, echoed by a luxuriant mustache. Most striking of all was the cloud of pink sparkles that fluttered around his head. “Greetings Outsiders!” He boomed. “I am Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist! You are the ones who have come for young Harry, eh?”

Much later Minerva would wonder, ‘how had they known we were coming?’ But at the time they were all too overwhelmed by this peculiar man’s presence to wonder.

Inside the hedge, on the green lawn, people and dogs milled around. One figure, in a distinctive red coat, threw a last stick quite a ways, then turned. The black and white dog bounded after the stick, while the big black one ignored it and turned along with his master.

“So we meet again Slaver Bastard. How’s that goin’, still enslaving people by screwing with their heads?” He surveyed Dumbledore’s companions. One, who reminded him a bit of Yoki, he dubbed Greasy, and then there was One-Eye, and the one he called Cat Lady, when he saw her in Slaver Bastards memory. There were two others as well, Shabby, and a nondescript woman.

“I see you brought your sycophants with you, or are they poor bastards you enslaved too?” Curious he added, “How long did it take them to get you out of the wall?” that had been some of his best work: stone, granite, silicate, wood from the desk and cabinets , silver, tin, copper, and lead, from those widget things, marble from that basin thing, as well, and high silicate from the glass vials in the desk, with the various organic compounds added into the bind, and the weird smoky stuff having just dissipated.

“Insolent brat.” At this insult Chaos stalked toward Greasy, legs stiff, and growling the deep growl that was just a hair away from the ‘ if you don’t want your throat torn out, Back Off ’, growl that he and Al had run into on more than one occasion on their travels. Greasy looked nervous but continued, “How dare you refer to the headmaster with such disrespect.”

Ed was pleased to note that Greasy looked nervous, and resolved to make sure Chaos ate steak in the near future. Shabby was giving the dog an odd look too, but kind of puzzled, not nervous.

“Easily. He hasn’t treated me with any. Equivalent Exchange.” Mustang was chewing his lip in the background, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

“Eh, don’t feel bad, he still calls me Idiot Prince, and I’m Emperor.”

A dark haired young man dropped off the hedge, leaving something of a dent in the ground, as the wizards tried to figure out who said that. None of them noticed that there was a sword on his back, or the black armor that covered his arms, as if part of the skin, complete with clawlike hands. Hayate came back, and sensing the changed mood, dropped the stick and took up position next to Hawkeye.

“Quiet Severus.”

“Shut it, Snape.”

“Slaver? I think you misunderstand what happened when we last met, my boy.” Innocent crystal blue eyes twinkled. The wizards wondered how they had ever doubted him.

“First off, I am not your boy. Second, how exactly did I misunderstand you trying to first find out what I was thinking, and then lay a snare for me in my own mind, that would make me your loyal pet?” Dumbledore stirred, but Ed wasn’t done.

“Are you really that desperate? Oh right, you’re just an old man with a faked reputation from fifty years ago, and you coast on it. Of course you’re desperate. ” He would never, in a million years, admit to having learned how to drip scorn from his voice from Mustang.

“I only wished to ascertain that you were not loyal to one of my enemies.” Dumbledore replied sharply.

Ed snorted. Dumbledore continued, “and I am very glad to see that young Harry is safe.”

“So am I,” fifteen voices chorused. Ed continued, “No thanks to you for sticking him with those Bastard Dursleys.”

“ I told you so Albus.”

“You left him with Lily’s sister?!” chorused Severus and Remus, for once united, glaring at Dumbledore. Remus continued “Lily said that if anything happened to her and James, the one place she didn’t want him to go was her sister!” He turned to Ed, “Thank you for saving him, Mister Elric. Harry is the son of my oldest friends. I just came to see if he was safe, because I had had no news of him since they died, until I was told that you had taken him.” he glared at Dumbledore.

“Young Harry needs to learn how to use his magic, and the best place for that is Hogwarts.” Chaos was growling at Greasy, again, and Black Hayate was waiting eagerly for orders.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, who had scampered behind Ed when the wizards had arrived, not wanting to be kidnapped again. “It is where your parents learned to master their talent, my boy. I am head of the school, and every one of my companions can attest to the fact that it is peerless.”

“Why would I want to go? I’m learning all sorts of things. Aunt Riza’s going to teach me how to shoot this year.” He came out a little ways, and brushed his hair(loose because the tie he uses to keep it in a braid like Ed does broke, leaving it shaggy and waist length, covering the faded scar as well) out of his eyes.

“Going there would bring you closer to your parents.”

“Why? It would take me away from my family. And if you mean my birth parents, they’re dead. Why would I go there, only to make myself upset over not knowing them? Ed and Al taught me that what’s gone is forever lost, and all we can do is live with it. I have a family.” He ducked back behind Ed. Every Amestrian, plus Ling and Mei, made various noises of approval at his speech. He poked his head out again. “And I’m not your boy!” he vanished.

“My son knows perfectly well how to use his power.” Izumi growled.

“He’s picking up alkahestry remarkably quickly.” Mei chirped.

Dumbledore composed himself. “Even so—” he began. But was interrupted by something small darting at Mad-Eye, a split second before Alphonse Elric yelped.

Moody remembered the gossip they had heard about the Elric Brothers, and how the younger one had the elder wrapped around his thumb. So he had discreetly drawn his wand, and now he looked at Alphonse Elric, and whispered “Legilimens,” under cover of the argument, hoping to influence the boy to be in favor of them taking the Potter boy. He found himself in a white void, his wand was no longer in his hand, and there was no discernable ground. His roving eye could see nothing but white, and before him, a pair of stone doors, roughhewn, hanging in the empty whiteness. He had seen these doors before, in the hall of murals in Xerxes. But these seemed more real than the ones there, as if the impressive Doors in Xerxes were an imitation of this.

“Hello,”

“Who are you?” He groped for his backup wand, which was absent from its holster.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked. I am called by many names. I’m the world, I’m the universe, I’m Truth, I am all, I am one. And I am also, You. I’m the Truth of your arrogance, foolish Wizard.

Moody spluttered, but the white thing rolled on, “You have grown proud indeed, relying on that eye. You see everything material, as you choose, and yet you are blind. And now, you come here? Fool, the true knowledge cannot be falsified, and neither can the minds it resides in. As punishment, I’ll begin with that eye of yours.” It smiled, tombstone teeth the only clear feature on the negative image, “It will never be anything more than glass. And the rest will come to me in time.’’ His sight from the glass eye winked out. The last thing he saw through it was the Doors opening. Then he was back in his body, and his wand was in his hand, but the eye was dormant.

A small black and white missile hit.

Xiao-Mei leaped, savaging his flesh leg, and then leaping out of the way as he fell: Achilles tendon severed. She cut to the right, grabbing onto his right wrist, and bit hard; his fingers slackened, and one paw ripped away his wand.

She bit through it.

Her mistress had readied five kunai, but before she could throw then, Alphonse Elric yelped, and clapped his hands, slamming them on the ground. Mad-Eye Moody, Hit Wizard to Dumbledore, was contained in ground which had melted and bound him. Mustang snapped, sparks jumping the gap to singe Dumbledore’s beard. “You come here, asking to take one of our people—A child— away with you, and saying that you want peace, and then one of your backup attacks his brother, a celebrated hero?”

Xiao Mei scampered back to her master and mistress, and spat the shattered pieces of Moody’s wand at their feet in tribute.

“Don’t forget future brother-in-law to the Emperor of Xing,” said Emperor put in cheerfully. He opened his eyes.

Two things happened at once.

One of which was Snape caught Mustang’s eyes, and attempted to gauge what the chances of grabbing the Potter brat and running were.

Stone doors with a jagged design on them, and whiteness greeted him. A white on white thing grinned.

“You trespass. You ignore the Law, and now you trespass here. The True Knowledge is not for you. Live, and remember your foolishness, and your luck in having come here with equivalence enough.” The Doors opened, and an eye appeared in the black void beyond, as a myriad of black hands shot forth, wrapping around his right arm, and then pulling. There was a splitting pain, worse than the Cruciatus, centered on his Mark. “With all that you have attached to this, it is equivalent to your life, this toll. Never come here again.” The Doors slammed shut.

Back in the world he heard a snap and suddenly he was engulfed in flame. “I restrained myself.” Roy said. “It isn’t nearly as bad as it feels. And from what Edward tells me, you people should be able to heal it when you leave.” He calculated quickly, snapped again, and all the visible wands crumbled to ash. The two women and the worn looking man hadn’t drawn theirs, and so escaped intact.
 

The second thing that happened was Dumbledore thinking that here was a high ranking person who could order the rest to send Harry to Hogwarts, and who was not an alchemist. So he attempted Legilimency.

Red was everywhere. A screaming cacophony of swirling red, and before him, a face? It was so large it was hard to tell. “Well, lookie here, a snooping wizard prying into what’s mine. Ling! There’s a wizard in our head!”

“I think Ed wants him alive, for his own vengeance. Just kick him out, Greed.”

Dumbledore knew he would never forget the laughter that followed.

In the world again, he stumbled back weakly, raising his wand for a curse. He managed to get off two cutting curses— one a somewhat Dark spell that he would rather have not had to use— aimed at the throat of the monster that called itself an Emperor, before there was a snap, and it fell to ashes in his hand. One curse was nonchalantly batted back at him by the monster, taking three feet off the trailing end of his beard, as three knives thunked into his robe’s sleeves, pinning his arms to the bindings Alphonse Elric had transmuted to pin Mad-Eye, even as the second curse, slower, but invisible found its mark. The ground surged up into the shape of a giant fist, securing him in its grip. The thumb of the stone fist covered his mouth. The monster fell, even if his curse hadn’t managed to take of the creatures head, and he felt satisfaction, he had at least killed the monster that held their loyalty, now perhaps—

“My lord!?” cried a female voice, and to Dumbledore’s horror the creature stood up, red sparks dancing across the wound, sealing it, and if not for the bloodstains on its throat, one would never know that it had been harmed.

“I’m fine Lan Fan, and no, don’t kill him. Ed wants him.”

Ed snarled at Dumbledore. “You come here, try to kidnap my little brother, waving your twigs, you try to kill the Emperor of the neighboring country, and you could’ve killed Ling, if he were mortal, and you ignore the Law.”

“We have no reason to follow your laws in our own country.” Severus hissed through his pain.

Ed smiled, and the other three alchemists who had been to the Gate paled. They knew that smile. That was—

“Not those laws. The Law of Equivalent Exchange.” His voice had changed, with an indiscernible quality to it now, one that went with that smile, and was not Ed at all.

“Brother?”

He turned and the smile given to Al was so purely Ed, that it reassured everyone. Then he looked back at the wizards.

“You take your power for granted, and pay with nothing. You tamper with minds and souls, and attempt to bypass Equivalence, without even understanding what it is that you do. You use enough amplifiers that no Toll for what you do is paid by you. You harbor a rift to a false portal, and pass through with no Toll. I’m amazed you aren’t all covered in blood, going through there,” his voice was his own for a moment, and Ling winced at the memory.

“You force your way through the edges of my realm, dodging payment with your amplifiers. There’ll come a time when every debt you owe must be paid in full because all you’re doing is racking up debts with the Decider of Equivalence you harebrained morons!” Fawkes trilled in an exasperated fashion and flew over to him, settling on his right shoulder.

“Hm? Yes if you want, you can stay Goldie.” he told the bird. All six wizards gasped. The phoenix trilled again. Ed gave Dumbledore a scornful look the match of the disgusted one from earlier. “I can hardly believe how stupid you are. She says you didn’t even realize that she is a she, or understand her name. And you actually think she belongs to you.” He scoffed. “Oh, and by the way, her name’s Areal.” He rounded on the three who had stayed out of things, trying to keep his mind in the here and now, and think about what he’d just experienced later. “Are you people going to be difficult too? Or will you actually be sensible?”

The second lady shook her head. “I know when I’m out matched, and I’m not much of a fighter anyway. If this is what Dumbledore meant by persuade, then I want no part of it. Just let me go home again, that’s all I ask.” Hmm… Sensible of her. Ed dubbed her Sensible Lady, and moved on.

“I have been getting more and more wary and suspicious of Albus for years now, beginning with his decision to leave Harry with the Dursleys, and when he refused to say why you had locked him in the wall, Mister Elric, when from what I had seen of you, you didn’t seem the type to do anything like that without serious provocation. I highly doubt that there is anything that we could teach Harry, after what I have gathered of your people. And more and more now, I suspect that I have been under a compulsion to follow Albus, and believe in him, even in the face of his refusal to tell anyone the full story of his plans.* Why do you keep calling him Slaver?” Cat Lady said.

Ed explained. Everything Slaver Bastard had used to build up his powerbase, he told them, and what the Slaver Bastard had been planning to do with Harry, and had tried to do to him.

By the time he was done the two women and the shabby man had gone past the point of cursing and into silent fury. Chaos had bounded up to the shabby one and was wagging his tail, and acting generally glad to meet him. As the dog had proven to be a very good judge of character in the past, this meant that he got a warmer reception then the rest, even if Heinkel and Darius were giving him odd looks.

“So you’re saying…”

“Slaver Bastard and Arrogant Idiot had a plan to rule you people only Slaver Bastard wanted to be sneaky about it, and they had a squabble in which one of them hit Slaver Bastard’s nutty sister and Slaver Bastard sulked around for a while as a teacher and decided he needed good publicity so he went and drugged Arrogant Idiot, made people thick there’d been a big fight, and used that good publicity to start ruling your world sneakily. Just look at his list of titles. Then he decided to poke around in my head to keep me as his pet alchemist, but he hit Truth, and owes a toll now. And I wound up with a copy of his memories and rescued Harry. ”

“What Brother is trying to say is that Dumbledore, whom he calls Slaver Bastard was working with someone else, what was his name, Brother?”

“Who? The arrogant idiot?”

Al nodded.

“Jelly Grimwood.”

The phoenix trilled.

“Fine.” Ed grumbled sulkily. “Gellert Griddlewald.”**

Shocked horror emanated from the three Outsiders. Muffled protests came from the stone prison for Slaver Bastard and One-Eye, but everyone ignored Slaver Bastard. Greasy seemed to have fainted.

“…and then Dumbledore and this Gridlewald had a falling out,” Al continued, “and that they then went about their plan in their own ways, one by force and one by stealth, until Dumbledore decided he was tired of the competition and wanted a heroic reputation, so he drugged this Gellert person and told people that there had been a fight, and apparently ended up in charge of most branches of your government—

“What they have of one…”Ed muttered.

“Such shame, such horror, to have trusted this man so deeply and find your faith unjustified!” Armstrong boomed. Where had his shirt gone, and were those sparkles?!! “Your plight touches my heart! That such a thing could happen in more than one place— how fortunate that Edward Elric would happen upon his villainy, and summarily thwart it as he does!!”

Was he crying?! He was, his shirt had vanished, a waterfall of tears poured from his eyes, and pink sparkles fluttered around his head! For a moment they thought they saw a background of pink rose behind him but the disturbing mirage vanished quickly. Not quickly enough though. And most surreal of all was the fact that no one other than the wizards seemed even the least bit surprised. One or two were shaking their heads as if to say, oh well, that’s Armstrong.

“And teaching your younger generation to believe he could do no wrong.” Al finished.

“Kinda like how everyone thinks Wrath was a hero.” Greed said, from where Ling was sitting on the stone covering Moody.

“If this is true then why did Fawkes stay with him for so long?” Cat Lady said.

There was a somehow melodic squawk from the bird in question, but it was the kind of melodic that came with someone slamming their hands down hard on piano keys.

“She says her name is Areal, get it right. She serves Truth, and Truth wanted her to keep Fumblemore from getting a rock, and that she was also supposed to try to get you people to quit it with the amplifiers and actually work for what you get.”

The silence that followed was broken by Heinkel and Darius, who —out of nowhere— said to Remus “Our animal instincts are telling us that you’re like us.”

“So what are you, part dog?” Heinkel asked.

“I didn’t know Outsiders could make chimera.”

Every alchemist in earshot felt their ears perk up. Ed growled at the Gate. Which, of course, was laughing. ‘Not quite,’ it snickered, but close.’

“Outsiders can’t make chimera.” Ed answered.

Mei chimed in, “But he’s something! Not like them, but not normal human either. I feel it.”

“What are you?” Ling asked cheerily.

“I could ask you the same thing. From what I’ve heard about you, you are the immortal emperor, aren’t you? But what are you?” Remus asked.

“If he answers, then you answer. Equivalent Exchange.” Ed stated.

“I’m a homunculus.” Ling said, still in that ‘I know this tone grates on peoples nerves and makes them underestimate me’, tone of his. “And your Dumbledore shouldn’t have poked in my head either. I’d say he has about a day left.”

Areal trilled.

“She agrees with you. He has a day or two left.”

“I’m a werewolf.” Remus said shortly.

“What does that mean? Heinkel asked.

“What’s a were wolf?” Mei said.

“A werewolf is a human who, upon being bitten by a transformed werewolf, is given the infection, and becomes a werewolf themselves, undergoing a painful transformation at the full moon into a sort of hybrid between beast and man.” Cat Lady said.

“It sounds like it is uncomfortable for you. I might be able to help with that, and possibly give you more control over it.” Mei chirped.

Remus looked like he was trying desperately not to hope that she was right.

“What about me?!” Moody yelled from the abstract shape of transmuted rock, which he was stuck in, and Ling was sitting on.

“Stay there until we’re ready to deal with you.” Ed replied over his shoulder. “You two women and the werewolf can come in.” he and Al shared a look.

“Mei, would you please heal the one with burns enough to be moved elsewhere? I think Colonel*** Armstrong would like to have the lawn back.” Al asked.

Mei nodded

Chapter Text

Later, after the three idiots had been dealt with for now, Al and Mei were looking at the werewolf, and Ed, Teacher, and the peanut gallery were talking to the other two sensible outsiders. Ed had explained, in his own way, what Truth had meant about dodging payment and amplifiers, and that if they wanted to avoid meeting Truth, they needed to ditch the twigs and pay with enough effort, instead of hollow twigs with cores that amplified the tiny bit of power from the wielder enough to do things with.

Mustang had then translated.

Ed didn’t understand why, it had been a perfectly good explanation; maybe these people just weren’t that bright. Maybe they just needed to hear it twice, ‘cause they seemed to get it after Colonel Bastard explained. Harry was in with Al and Mei, looking at the werewolf as a student of medical alchemy, or that was the argument he gave for why he should be allowed to help. Ed thought he was just curious about how one dealt with things like this, because he wasn’t able to heal anything more than broken bones, and cuts.

Over dinner, sensible lady asked a question. “Why did Faw— sorry, Areal, bring us to the desert city, and the hall with the paintings? Do you know?”

The Gate whispered. Tolls must be taken, but those who had not trespassed owed no toll for this. Warnings stand.

“It was a warning. Your Slaver Bastard coming here was inevitable, but the rest of you could have backed off, or taken the hint and been sensible, like you three did.”

After dinner, everyone was heading off to the rooms that Armstrong had said they could use for the night, although his actual words had involved a lot of booming and sparkling.

Ed was surprised, upon reaching his own, to find Al, Teacher, Colonel Must-Nag, and the Idiot Prince, waiting for him there, each one with a serious expression, and Teacher was tapping her foot, and had her arms folded. He whimpered, although he would manfully deny it later. Three voices spoke at once.

“Edward—”

“Fullmetal—”

“Brother—”

“—what happened out there?!”

“Where?” usually the solid wall at his back would be comforting, but not when all it would take would be for Teacher to clap, and he would be in a fist that used to be the wall. He could only hope that the fact that they were guests would save him.

“On the lawn.”

“I recognized that smile, Fullmetal, and it wasn’t yours.”

“Brother, you sounded like Truth. What happened?”

Ling said nothing, very, very loudly. His eyes were open, but the way he was sitting said that this was still Ling, not Greed. Somehow that cat-eyed purple stare was more disturbing from Ling than Greed, probably because if it was visible when the Idiot wasn’t in a fight, it was usually Greed staring.

“Al, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Teacher growled.

Ed didn’t say anything, shaking off the encroaching memory of being himself-but-not-him at the same time: of awareness of every transmutation; of sending rebounds and remembering Tolls; of the separate, distinct presence of the Gate, ever behind him, and of the authority over it not-him had had; the deep, all-consuming anger at these upstarts, and the cold comfort of knowledge that he would be able to take their price when things came to their time, as he had with that renegade. The lingering joy from when one alchemist had finally understood his lesson, coupled with his own sardonic opinion, that that was a hell of a way to teach a lesson. Which led to the disturbing fact that he was remembering himself as Truth had seen him, and that among the tolls he half remembered was his own, and he did not want to go there right now!

Ling’s silence became louder.

Colonel Bastard narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, paused, closed it, visibly thought about what he was going to say, changed his mind, and said: “Why could I practically see the Gate behind you, Fullmetal?” the tone was one Ed was used to hearing when he was in the hospital, again. He hadn’t heard it for a few years. Funny, how being put on official consultant status could reduce the number of injuries he had a tendency to acquire.

Al gasped. “Brother, was that your Gate?” he seemed less frightened now, still worried, but no longer frightened.

“Nah, that was Truth.”

Teacher stopped tapping her foot and the colonel looked poleaxed.

Ling jerked, and not in the ‘Greed just said something unexpected’, way.

Al swallowed. “How?” he whispered.

“Do we need to be worried about you?” Mustang asked, a split second before Teacher asked: “Do you owe anything?”

“Explain, Ed.” He couldn’t tell whether Greed or Ling had said that, it had held shades of both. Ling continued, “Greed has very loud opinions on this. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s worried, but we both are.”

He hadn’t thought he’d have to explain it! How to word it? Hmm… “You know my Gate talks to me? That’s because I’ve been there more than once. It talked all along, because I’d been there twice, my bit of it was large enough to be aware. That’s why that Bearded Bastard wanted us, because when you go there and come back sane, you earn a little bit of it to take back with you. I’d been there once, and then a second time for Al, so mine was large enough six years ago to be talkative. Then I wound up going back a few more times, I think five, all together. Apparently, because of how often I’ve been there, I count as kind of like Goldie—”

There was a trill from the aforementioned phoenix.

“— and can do things that are, odd. Like, rebuilding Xerxes while fixing the soil in the same transmutation. Or like this afternoon. I didn’t know Truth could be frustrated, but it felt like it had been. On the other hand it was happy when I figured out what it wanted… anyway, Truth used my body to yell at the idiots who call themselves wizards. Don’t worry, Truth owes me now. Equivalence.” He looked at their expressions, and added, “Really, you don’t need to worry, it can’t do that to you.”

“That isn’t what we’re worried about!” Teacher growled.

“We’re all worried about you, Ed. Who else could I mooch dinner of off if something happens to you?”

“That’s right Fullmetal, you still owe me money.”

“Brother…”

“Edward, what does it mean that Truth owes you?” Teacher asked.

He paused, trying to figure out how to explain something he only grasped the edges of understanding himself, then answered “After the promised day, when I got you back, Al, I offered my portal, and Truth seemed pleased, but said that it wasn’t something it could take. It said that I had found the right answer, and that since it owed me for taking out Father, it fiddled with the exchanges, assigning what it called ‘a bit of left over equivalence’ for your body, and my arm again for your soul. But I wasn’t bleeding or anything; there was just my port instead of a gaping wound. That’s what happened the last time Truth owed me. I don’t know quite what this debt covers though.”

After a long pause Mustang broke the silence with a quiet “Only you, Fullmetal….”

Teacher shook her head. Al stared at him. Ling shook his head and asked “Now that that’s settled, how do you understand that bird?”

“I’ve been to the Gate enough times to understand her.”

“Oh. Say, Ed… do you know what the symbol of the Yao clan is?” Ling had gone from serious to the tone Ed privately called up-to-something-cheer. Warily, he responded.

“No.”

“It’s a phoenix, and since the phoenix has decided to stay with you, that means that we’re practically brothers! You’ll have to visit and bring her.”

Areal gave a startled, melodic, squawk.

“Goldie says she’ll come if she feels like it.”

The phoenix fluffed up, preening.

He surveyed the Outsiders. Cat Lady looked like she had decided something, Sensible Lady looked sad, but relieved, One-Eye was still unable to walk, and Greasy was healed enough to be mobile.

Slaver Bastard looked like shit.

Ling had turned up at the window this morning, (was he part monkey? Ed had been on the third floor, and Ling had appeared from above) and informed Ed that since Slaver Bastard had tried to snoop the stone had felt strange. Stronger. They theorized that Slaver Bastard had left some of his life-force behind when he intruded in the stone, and even if it were just a few years’ worth, it explained why the stone felt odd, and why Slaver Bastard looked like that.

“Areal says she’ll take you all back. Don’t even think about trying to grab Harry, any of you.”

“Actually, may I stay?” The werewolf asked. “just until the next full moon?”

“Oh, to see if what we did worked? I think that’s a good idea.” Mei said.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Al remarked “but it makes sense.” Chaos barked enthusiastically.

“All right then.” Ed answered, since it was a valid point. Goldie trilled an agreement and left his shoulder, hovering above the cluster of Outsiders. The werewolf stepped away from the rest, and the phoenix’s talons descended, hooking into cloth. A flash of golden light, and they were gone. Five seconds later came another flare, and she reappeared, settling on his shoulder once again.

He looked at the bird. “Could you teach me how to do that vanishing thing? It’d be handy.”

“Trrr. Rrlel. Prt. Keckaa.”

“Oh well. Worth a try.”

The first thing they did, upon being unceremoniously deposited in the hospital wing by phoenix, was have Poppy take a look at Moody and Snape. Dumbledore had been carefully arranged on a bed, still ashen from whatever he had seen. It seemed his mind was going, between his mumbling about prophecies, Trelawny, plans, and doom, and while healers were capable of many things reversing mental damage was not one of them. That and Dark Arts damage were both irrevocable.

While the spell was doing its work on the severed tendon, they talked. It was disheartening, that while six of them had set out for Alfoné, only five had returned, and Dumbledore had been not only defeated so easily, but broken mentally and was dying. Even if he had been a fraud, which the two women believed Elric on, he had still been powerful, so to see him taken down so easily— and what he had done. They had seen Dumbledore stumble back and fire off a curse, most likely a cutting curse, at the Emperor, clearly trying to kill him, and they didn’t want to think about the way he had healed: that wound should have been fatal without immediate help, but how the little red veiney things had closed over the wound and then filled it in, and the way skin had regrown in seconds was something no one wanted to remember.

Even phoenix tears didn’t heal one like that, and on the topic of the phoenix his— no, Emmeline corrected herself, her abandonment— was one of the most shocking things of all. They would have to rethink everything they knew about the phoenix, especially the fact that it seemed to not keep company with the good and pure of heart, but from what Elric had said, went where… it? ...She?...Was ordered to go by that which he called Truth. The fact that Elric could understand what she said, and reply in kind, translating music to human speech, was something no one had ever thought possible. And then there was Elric himself.

They should have paid attention to that mural, Minerva thought. It seemed that everything outlined in it was true, the battles, the scars, the immortals, the capabilities and powers displayed in stone, which had been displayed by everyone there. Most amazing of all was the fact that when they had been properly introduced, so many people had been given a title that she understood denoted rank and respect due, and yet they all treated each other as equals, even the one who had healed, who had been stated to be the visiting emperor of the neighboring country, immortal, and Elric’s best friend, and yet all of these people who outranked him in so many ways did what Elric told them to.

It had been terrifying, Severus privately admitted. Despite the pain of the burns, as well as the removal of his Mark as Toll by that thing at the gate— no not gate, that didn’t adequately catch it, Gate— that he had reached through the mind of the one who had later been named General Mustang he had heard the resemblance between the voice of the creature that had spoken to him in warning at the Gate— it had had a very distinct voice— and even through the pain he had heard Elric taking on that voice, and its speech patterns as well. He felt that even had he been unconscious he would still have heard the lecture the possessed Elric had given, the words of which still burned at his thoughts, having carved out a niche for themselves in his brain. At least they had come up with a cover story before returning.

Dumbledore stirred suddenly.

“Alastor, department, prophesy? The record— I must see it. “

Flexing his healed leg, Moody stood. “All right. I’ll fetch it, and ask the Unspeakables to see what they can do about restoring my eye while I’m at it. The magic’s gone out of it.”

As he strode towards the door Vance asked, “What do suppose we should do, about all that about debts and tolls I mean. And things that we owe?”

“Well,” Minerva said briskly. “I think we’d best begin with teaching wandlesss magic.”

Chapter Text

Five minutes after Moody left the Minister of Magic arrived, demanding to see Dumbledore. Upon entering the hospital wing and seeing the Headmasters condition, he had promptly borrowed the Floo to go to St Mungoes and return with as he put it, a professional Healer for severe damage, not one who, while competent enough, was used to only treating students of their various ailments and the occasional potions accident.

Moody was pleasantly surprised at how quickly he had made it through the bureaucracy, and that the Master of the hall hadn’t argued at all about retrieving the orb one they heard that Dumbledore needed it, only removed it from the shelf and the curses thereon. It had then been passed to an Unspeakable, who would carry it until Moody signed for it at the department edge. At this rate Moody might be able to return to Hogwarts in time for lunch.

He wondered what the fact that a prophesy orb had gone dark meant. Ah well, it wasn’t his place to ask, he was just to take out the targets assigned by Dumbledore. He bitterly regretted the loss of his magical eye. The glass had nothing left on it, no trace of the spells that had animated it, no residue that could be used to restructure the spells, the Unspeakable had said. And Dumbledore didn’t seem in any condition to re-enchant it, what with the fact that Poppy thought he would be dead by tomorrow’s sunrise.

They stepped into the death room on the way back, and immediately the air seemed to change: it felt charged, and anticipatory. He turned on instinct to where that feeling was strongest. Of course it was the Veil, but what had happened to it? It had gone still, and instead of looking like a ragged black curtain, it seemed like a rip, now, that left an unsettling sucking feeling behind his remaining eye as he stared at it, unable to look away.

The crumbling stone archway surrounding it seemed less like it held the Veil up, and more like it was holding it in check. The faint whispering noise that had always accompanied its movement had vanished, and been replaced with a sound on the edge of hearing, a high giggling noise.

He took a step backwards, filled with a sense of not wanting to go anywhere near that thing as it was now. But he couldn’t back up. The air had somehow thickened, making leaving impossible. He could only move forward. The Unspeakable next to him swore, and fired off a message spell of some kind. Three seconds later ten more came running in. “What the—”

The first one pointed at the Veil.

A faint glow had emerged on the stone archway, as the charged feel grew stronger, and that glow suddenly blazed, a brilliant blue-white light. Answering runes lit across the room, covering the floor and walls, and even the far distant roof, all blazing blinding bright, so bright that it was impossible to make out the fine detail.

The feeling grew stronger, and all watching got the sense that whatever was happening with the Veil was something that these runes were set to contain. The Unspeakables were casting various obscure spells, and Moody was trying to figure out how to get out of the room, when he realized that he was —without his consent— walking towards it. With an effort he stopped moving.

Memory flashed in his mind, of a grin, and the lightning that had flickered when Dumbledore was wrapped in the same stone that had been imprisoning him. Then even he blanched, as, while the light of the runes remained a blazing blue-white, the light that filled the room was not that blinding bluish-white, but a sickly purple, like a bruise. The same eerie light emanated from wisps of black fog which drifted through the room, and then the rift began to widen.

It was no longer even vaguely like the Veil, but a graceful curved eye shape, and barely had he thought this when an eye opened within it. Five violet-grey rings around utter blackness, and he knew that thing! He knew it from a mural he had disbelieved, and he knew it from a mind he had intruded in. Thousands of little black hands shot from the archway, even as the stone began to crack, and the hands came unerringly towards him. Before he knew it, they had latched on to him, and were dragging him towards the eye and the rift. Magic couldn’t touch the hands, anything he cast seemed to dissolve— rather than affect the hands— and likewise for the Unspeakables’ spells. Struggling did nothing, and his last sight before being dragged in was of some of the hands tearing at the stone, and then he saw nothing but white.

“Hello again.” Truth said.

What the Unspeakables saw as Mad-eye Moody was drawn into the Veil, was that some of the little black hands seemed to be seeking a particular spot. They felt around the stone, and one Unspeakable had the presence of mind to try and cut one off with a slicing hex. But nothing happened. The hands continued to move, and then several of them landed on the peak of the arch, where the central rune blazed. No one had even seen the runes before. No one had ever gotten close enough to the Veil to note them as anything more than faint scratches in the rock, but also, no one had ever seen anything like them anywhere. The hands pulled on that bit of stone, and others on the sides of the tear in reality, seeming to be trying to close it, and then it was all gone.

For a fraction of a second the arch stood empty, the light gone from the runes on the archway, and the laughter ceased.

Then it fell, cracks splintering this way and that and shards of stone hitting the ground in a slow thunderous roar, a cacophony that seemed to go on and on forever.

And then it was over, the stone cracking ever smaller, and then not even ruins were left to show what had been there. One Unspeakable, who had picked up a smaller shard, found his hand empty.

Then came another rumble, as the light returned to normal, and the runes faded out all over the room, some of them fading with a noise that everyone had just become intimately familiar with:

The sound of splitting rock.

First the ceiling over the dais fell in, and then the cracks arrayed out from it, hexagonal pieces of stone falling, as the rock splintered.

The Unspeakables fled.

Behind them the sound of crashing rock echoed a little while longer, and then all anyone could see through either doorway was tumbled stone. One doorway was covered over by a large slab of rock, and the other by medium bits of it, and one small hole that could possibly let one see into the ruins of the death chamber, but no one felt like putting their eye to it to look.

At that moment, in the great hall at Hogwarts while the staff and Minister were eating and trying to tune out Sybil’s wailing about premonitions of the trip going badly and one of the party dying and now the headmaster would not live to see nightfall; if they had just listened to her it would be different, the Seer suddenly stiffened, falling silent, and staring ahead vacantly. Pomona, who was next to her, noticed first.

“Sybil?”

Sybil said nothing, still staring at some distant point in the air. Then suddenly she spoke in harsh, ringing tones quite different from her own. "Woe," Sybil cried in the harsh tones of true prophesy, "we have angered the Alchemist! Doom comes, for in crossing the Alchemist we have incurred the anger of Truth! The doom set so long ago is upon us! It is already begun! The debt incurred will not be balanced in the Tolls of the Fool; the Liar; and the Shattered False Lord and all his marked servants, alone! Though the changer may avert a portion of the Toll, the doom comes! Woe to those who anger the All, for Truth comes again to collect its due! Fate comes undone, the age-old pact broken, the long held rift sealed, the truce revoked, the Gate awaits! Woe, woe unto to us all, and first to he who crossed the Golden Alchemist, for the Truth that went unheeded shall laugh as he is undone! Woe to the False Alchemist, come at last to the death he so long evaded, and the Truths he fled! Doom to the Shattered False Lord, and with his doom the eye of Truth shall fall once more on its own and reclaim them! Woe to us... for in arrogance the Liar crossed the True Alchemist! The Doom is already begun … We cannot escape … The Fool is fallen, the Liar dies the final death! At the coming of the Herald of the False Lord’s death, the doom shall fall! Measures will balance! The Debt… Comes Due…

Complete mayhem erupted.

Some hours later, one particular Unspeakable remembered the prophesy orb in his pocket, and— having worked in the prophesy section of the department enough to know what the fact that it had darkened meant— decided to take it to Dumbledore, as Moody had meant to do, only that fascinating event with the Veil had killed him. Thus the Unspeakable decided to take it himself, and see if Dumbledore had any idea what those strange runes were. The man had some extremely rare books in his personal library that many collectors would kill for, after all.

He spun on his heel, focusing on Hogsmead, as usual, and almost fell over when the Apparition failed. What was happening? He knew how to do it, and why had he gotten a sensation of having bounced off of something?

He tried again.

This time he did fall over. He picked himself up and tried a third time. Nothing. He returned to the ministry to ask for a portkey and report this. As soon as he opened the door he heard angry shouting about Apparition not working. Clearly no help would be found there, and the invalidated prophesy really did need to go to Dumbledore so—

He looked both ways, and picked up a rock. “Portus,” he whispered, fixing Hogsmead in his mind. Technically as a Ministry employee he was authorized to do this, but he was still cautious about being sighted doing it.

The portkey worked, even though Apparition hadn’t, and he was soon standing outside the Three Broomsticks, asking to borrow a broom from the barmaid rather than walk all the way to Hogwarts. Rosmerta obliged, and he was quickly there.

Upon arrival at the castle he was hustled to the hospital wing, where he was amazed to find Dumbledore looking like he was on his deathbed. The aura of power that had always surrounded him was gone, as had the force in him, this was merely a feeble, elderly man.

“Prophesy.” The old man croaked, and the Unspeakable noticed that his beard was shorn— and he was surrounded by a faint smell of burnt hair.

“It’s here sir.” Madame Pomphry said. She motioned and the Unspeakable held out the orb.

Albus looked at the orb held out to him. It was dark, not the silver glow of an active prophesy. That meant—

“It’s been invalidated,” said the nondescript man who had held it out.

Invalidated, but that meant that everything came tumbling down! Everything he had planned for, and the things that he had arranged to happen in event of his possible death, or if he were unable to attend to them in person, Gone! Perhaps they could be salvaged— but t her e was no ti..

“Hello again, Wiz-ard.”

Chapter Text

Ed growled at the Gate. “Shut up.”

The Gate ignored him and continued to laugh. He hadn’t really expected it to cooperate, but it had been laughing for hours now. Dammit, how was he supposed to explain to Winry what had happened with the outsiders with the Gate laughing hysterically in his head. At least it had stopped doing its equivalent of a happy dance, or a celebratory Armstrong, but Goldie was not helping either. Just where had she learned that many curse words? Well she was an old bird, but still— wasn’t she supposed to be a symbol of purity? The Idiot Prince would never believe this.

Ohh, that was a good one! He made a mental note of it.

Dumbledore was dead and the Minister was melting down. Minerva felt some sympathy for him. Even knowing that Dumbledore was a piece of scum didn’t change the fact that once, long ago, he had been someone she had called friend without needing charms to make it so. Her sympathy was limited, however, as she was more concerned with Sybil’s prophesy from lunch.

The two healers conferred for a moment, and then unceremoniously erected a privacy barrier across the ward, leaving Minerva, the disgruntled Minister who had been hanging over the healers’ shoulders, Emmeline Vance, who had agreed to stay at the castle for some time, the still recovering Severus, and the rest of the staff in the other half of the ward.

“What happened to him?” the Minister asked plaintively.

“I don’t entirely know. We were looking for Harry Potter, and found him, but it didn’t go well. The headmaster took it badly and this morning he was weak, raving about a prophecy. The Phoenix left him as well, but was willing to bring us home at the request of its new chosen companion.”

The Minister spluttered incoherently

“So, the ones who have Harry Potter did this? We must see about justice immediately! First they kidnap the Boy-Who-Lived, and now they have killed Dumbledore. I shall summon the Aurors—”

“I don’t recommend that minister,” Minerva said. “Harry has been adopted, and his new family didn’t take well to Albus attempting to remove him from them.”

“But—”

She swept on, ignoring the interruption to her lecture. “I was informed, later, that he had already been kidnapped once and they weren’t about to let that happen again. Albus handled things very badly…”

“NO! He’s Dumbledore!”

“…And I am certain that his mind was beginning to go; …”

“Impossible!”

“… otherwise I doubt he would have tried to murder the Emperor, who was one of the adopted family.”

“Murder? He wouldn’t! Dumbledore could never do such a thing!”

“We saw it.” Severus replied from his bed.

“I’ve never seen any magic like what deflected that curse. He just batted it away with a hand. No spell at all.” Emmeline put in.

“The place has better wards than Hogwarts, and we wouldn’t have any right to interfere. Besides it took a phoenix to even get to Alfoné, I doubt the Aurors could get there.”

“Not to mention that even if they did Mad-eye and Dumbledore were both taken down so easily. Hell, someone’s pet had gotten Moody entirely disabled before someone made a giant stone fist to keep him prisoner. And somehow his eye got wrecked too.” Vance added.

“Don’t forget the fire.” Severus put in, wincing at the memory. His skin was still growing back. It was not magical fire, by any means, but neither was it anything else.

“Alfoné Fire? Moody’s Eye?” Fudge asked, completely at sea.

“Yes, the magical eye is only glass now.”

“Speaking of travel by phoenix”, Flitwick broke in. “Where is Fawkes?” Minerva half expected to hear a melodic squawk at the use of the name Fawkes, but there was no such sound.

“As I said, she left him. She was willing to bring us home, but she did not stay for Albus. I think she preferred the Elric boy, who seemed to understand her. Yes she was a she, and her name was not actually Fawkes. She and Elric were very firm about that.”

“Well I can’t say he isn’t powerful, given what he did last time, and the fact that it took us three days to undo it, but to understand a phoenix? And if he is the sort to be chosen by a phoenix then why would he approve of keeping Harry from schooling?” Flitwick asked.

The Minister sank to a seat on an unoccupied bed. “First that business with the Dark Marks in Azkaban and on the imperiused, then the prophesy at lunch, and now the Boy-Who-Lived is found but not coming to Hogwarts?” he moaned.

Severus sat up abruptly, letting out a quiet, pained gasp as the movement pulled on raw skin. “There was a prophesy?”

Everyone answered at once.

“Sybil actually made a real one. How did it go? I remember Doom being in it, and cryptic names. A shattered liar, I think and tolls kept being mentioned.”

“No, it was the Shattered Fool, the False Liar and the Alchemist Lord.”

Three winces echoed around the room as everyone who’d been to Alfoné remembered its alchemists and what they were capable of.
“It was the Alchemist, the Golden Alchemist, ummm…

“the True Alchemist, the False Alchemist—”

“and stuff about doom and fate and debts”

“It was the Shattered False Lord and his servants, the Fool and the Liar.”

“There was something about rifts as well, and I remember the words truce revoked very clearly, and something about fate coming undone, and a broken pact—“

“No the rift was sealed with a Gate, I could hear the capital letters in the word Gate.”

Behind his curtains Severus would have blanched if he had had enough undamaged skin to do so.

“The Fool is fallen, the Liar dies the final death, and general doom—”

“But there was something about the changer being able to avert some of the doom, I remember that—”

Emmeline spoke up slowly. “I remember this bit clearly. The debt incurred will not be balanced in the Tolls of the Fool; the Liar; and the Shattered False Lord and all his marked servants, alone. Could the Shattered False Lord be You-know-who and the marked servants the Death Eaters?

Severus clutched the space on his arm where his mark had been, remembering white and a grin and with all that you have attached to this it is equivalent to your life, this Toll. The True Knowledge is not for you, leave, and remember your luck in coming here with equivalence enough, as Minerva said, “we can use a pensive later to view it properly, but for now —given what Emmeline just brought up— Minister, what was that you said about Dark Marks?”

“Well they’re gone, aren’t they? Everyone reported the same things, even the wizards watching Azkaban, the marks had black things emerge from them, and double back pulling it away from the skin and then it was gone! I would never have thought it of Mcnair or Travers, Molere, Crowe, or Rourke. I trusted them!” It was a wail.

Minerva and Vance looked at each-other. They’d seen little black hands do the same thing to Severus, a moment before Mustang had set him on fire.

Right then there was a tapping at the window.

Chapter Text

It was a pair of owls. Emmeline, being closest to the window opened it, glad of the distraction from the Minister’s undignified behavior. It was uncharitable of her, but she was reminded of her five year old niece denied a favorite toy, wailing about how it wasn’t fair and going Waaaah! Bizarre as it might be to expect, she kept expecting the same Waaaah! from the minister.

The owls deposited the letters in her hand, and took off again. One letter was for the minister, and the other—

To Headmaster Dumbledore. What to do with this, with the old liar dead?

Wait.

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Automatically she handed the Minister his letter, and sat down clutching the second one. The old Liar was dead. Sybil’s voice rang in her mind again : the Fool is fallen, the Liar dies the final death. And why had someone other than Mad-Eye come with the prophesy Moody had been sent for? Why, unless he were the fallen fool, and had already fallen?

The Minister let out a shriek, dropping the letter like a dead Kneazle.

“Minister?”

He gobbled incoherently, and thrust the letter in her direction. Emmeline took it, handing the second letter to McGonagall, and skimming over the Minister’s letter. It was a hasty scrawl, but she could see why he had wailed. Apparently half the Ministry had caved in of all things, and the hall that led to his office was unsafe due to a celling that might go at any moment. And sometime near the time of the cave-in, which had started in the Death Room( death room? Oh right, the place of executions, where those that were considered too dangerous to even bring out of confinement to be Kissed were executed) Mad-Eye had been killed. The Fool is fallen indeed. It had also collapsed the walls and ceiling of the rooms adjoining the Death Room in the Department of Mysteries, and left support problems, in part due to the fact that whatever had caused the collapse had managed to drain power from the wards that, among other things, held the Ministry together.

Parchment rustled across the room, as Probably-Headmistress McGonagall lowered her own letter, looking stunned.

“Minerva, whatever is the matter?” Professor Flitwick asked.

“There had been some kind of catastrophe at the Ministry, and they want the late headmaster Dumbledore to come consult. And apparently whatever it was has resulted in what amounts to an anti-apparition ward that covers the entire country at the very least.”

“Caved in! All my things! Gone! No, this can’t happen! I’m the Minister, I’m not supposed to deal with this kind of thing!” Before Minister Fudge could continue his breakdown, Madame Pomfreyand the St.Mungo’s healer emerged from the privacy barrier, and Madame Pomfrey took one look at Fudge, stunned him, and levitated him into an unoccupied bed then forced a calming draught and a dreamless sleep potion down his throat.

While this was happening, “Right,” Probably-Headmistress McGonagall said, taking a deep breath, “Filius, write back to them and inform the Ministry that Professor Dumbledore is unavailable to examine their catastrophe due to an extreme case of being dead, but that you would be willing to consult. It is the sort of thing I know you dabble in dealing with over the summers.” Professor Flitwick nodded.

“Aurora, write to the board of governors and inform them that Headmaster Dumbledore is dead, and that I as his deputy, am taking charge. We shall need to find someone to replace me as Transfiguration Teacher and Head of Gryffindor, on extremely short notice as well. Charity, would you mind at least taking over the Head of House post temporarily?”

“I can do that.” Professor Burbabge said.

“Wonderful. Rolanda, since your flying lessons are only for the first years, and only take a month to teach them all that they need to know, unless they are the sort who still need refresher classes five years later, can you pull double duty and teach transfiguration? I know you are highly skilled at it, and are adept at wandless magic. It was Albus’s last decision, prior to things going so horribly wrong, that we should begin to teach our students wandless magic. As you are the most skilled in it, will you do it?”

Emmeline raised an eyebrow, knowing that the Liar had said nothing of the sort. It was a clever move Most-Likely-Headmistress McGonagall was making, pinning the idea on Dumbledore to avoid questions such as why should we do it, and saving explaining what they had gathered from Mister Mustangs translation of Elric’s explanation about wanded magic being bad for you.

“If Dumbledore said we should teach wandless magic,” Professor Hooch replied, “I shall be more than willing to do so. I do indeed have the time to spare, although it will require some changes to the schedule. Have we confirmed whether Quirrel will be returning to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, as he said he might? If he hasn’t then we’ll need to find someone else in a hurry, and I can’t pull triple duty.”

“No we have not confirmed it, and as today is July thirty-first, if he hasn’t contacted us by August second, I shall assume he won’t be coming. Emmaline, if he doesn’t respond, could you take over for this year?”

“I can do that; what will you be doing professor?” Emmaline replied.

Almost-certainly-Headmistress McGonagall sighed. “I— will start planning a funeral.”

Chapter Text

The day before Dumbledore’s funeral, the survivors of the Alfoné expedition had finally had a chance to talk about it in private. All three placed their memories of the expedition in the sole surviving pensieve in Hogwarts, the one that belonged to Severus. Minerva added her memory of the prophesy, and the three of them entered it.

When they emerged from the pensive, Severus was once again pale. The prophesy weighed heavily on his mind, and the clear connection to events that had already occurred and were, it said, still unfolding. Tolls were a repeating theme in the prophesy, and the thing that had spoken to him when he had tried Legilimensy on Mustang, then possessed Elric and spoken to all of them at once, had been very firm about that fact that it was angry about them somehow dodging a Toll.

It was too much of a coincidence. The Toll in the prophecy was most likely the same Toll that being had spoken of.

Grimly he added one more memory to the mix: the memory of the Gate, and the being in front of it. Before anyone could enter the memory he tapped the pensive once, setting it to project the memory above it in miniature instead. The white was there and the Gate was there, and the him of the past, and the grinning thing. He clenched his fists as he watched, and when the memory ended and sank back into the bowl, he said very quietly “that is all I know. That thing, whatever it is, is what possessed Elric, and is behind all of this. It seems to be collecting debts owed it, and taking its Tolls now. I suspect it to be the Truth spoken of in Sybil’s prophesy, bringing doom on our world.”

A ghost who had been unnoticed in the back of the room blanched as much as it could, fleeing through the wall. If that was acting in the world of the living—

“Is there anything we can do?”

“I doubt it. That thing had an air of inevitability.”

“Maybe we should tell people what we know?”

“Would it do any good?”

“Part of the problem is our wands, so… maybe?”

“It would cause a panic and our ruin. We’re doing what we can by teaching wandless magic here, but we can’t force the entire world to give up theirs.”

“More of a panic than has already been caused? After all, Apparition has ceased worldwide, not just here. This isn’t an anti-apparition ward, it’s something else. ”

“Yes. And the esteemed minster can’t see past the end of his nose. He would deny it could be possible.”

“Apparition stopped working about the same time as the Ministry caved in. Do you suppose there is a connection? I mean the collapse started in the Death Room, and that would mean the Veil is destroyed. Could that be the rift? Not just the rift in the prophesy, but the rift that thing spoke of? It said we passed through its realm, so could the Veil be the rift and now that it’s sealed by the cave-in we can’t get there anymore?”

Severus and Minerva stared at Vance. It made too much sense, and the possibility was terrifying, especially so to Severus, who didn’t want to think about what might be happening to the people who had been in transit when Apparition ceased, and had yet to be found.

At the funeral the staff couldn’t help but mention the prophesy given an hour before Dumbledore’s death by the seer Sybil Trelawney. The few centaurs in attendance looked as if they had expected this.

The following morning it was in all the wizarding papers worldwide, even the Quibbler, and Irma Pince was busily searching her library for anything about an age old pact or truce.

Voldemort smirked as he eyed the ruby red stone. He might not be able to go through with the ritual until Hallowe’en, one of the most potent magical nights of the year, but the means for his return was at last within his grasp. And by lucky chance Dumbledore had finally died. There would be none to dare oppose him now. He would reign unending, immortal. First Britain would fall to him, then the world. Fate was in his favor, it was clear in the newest prophesy, for he would bring doom to the society as it was now, and remake it anew in his image. The time of Dumbledore was at an end. The age of Voldemort would begin.

Elsewhere, Truth smiled in anticipation.

Somewhere else again Edward Elric wished his Gate would let him in on the joke.

He sighed, pushed the sniggering to the back of his mind, and asked Teacher if he could give Harry that present now that he was old enough, capable enough, and responsible enough to have it. Finally she agreed, saying that if Shabby were only trying to gain their trust it would be better if Harry had something else other than his martial arts to defend himself. They were carefully keeping an eye on Shabby while he stayed. Just how many connections did Teacher have, anyway? Between her connections, and Greed’s remaining connections, Shabby wasn’t going unwatched for a moment.

“Harry, we’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and, well, here.” He handed over a package.

“Huh?” Harry began to open it, puzzled at first, then shocked, then pleased. “Really? You think I’m ready for these?”

“I’ve thought so for a few months. The problem was convincing your mother. Go ahead, try them on.”

His little brother had a wonderful smile as he tried on the brand new alchemy gloves.

One month after the outsiders had been kicked out Ed heard from Teacher that the werewolf had asked to stay forever. He’d started work in a quiet little bookshop in Dublith, and had said that he liked Amestris much better than Outside. Ed thought dryly that any sane person would, after what he’d seen of Outside and the idiots who inhabited it. Truth was coming for them, and they didn’t even realize it. As Shabby was apparently trustworthy, they were gradually cutting back on watching him.

The former werewolf was apparently more like the chimera now, able to shift into a wolf-man like Lion King could into a lion-man. Mister Gorilla didn’t really change much.

Remus wasn’t watched anymore, and took his chance. He stared at the dog. “Sirius, I know it’s you. What are you doing as a dog even though we’re alone?”

“I’m just a dog. Just Harry’s dog Chaos. ” The dog wrote in the dirt.

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I’m just a dog. I can’t change, Moony. I crossed the barrier as a dog, and have been stuck ever since. ” he wrote laboriously.

“Sirius…”

“Not that bad,” wrote the dog, “If I changed back things would be hard. And Am not in prison anymore. ”

“I thought you had betrayed them, but you’ve been here protecting Harry for years. You didn’t do it, did you?”

“Peter.” Wrote the dog. “I was decoy. You were busy. Peter betrayed us.”

“That explains everything.”

Chapter Text

Time passed. Ed plotted vengeance on Colonel Bastard-who-was-not-going-to-be-a-higher-ranked-bastard, having leveled out his bastardy at Colonel rank. The Gate continued to snigger, occasionally offering a suggestion, most of which Ed discounted, but a few he looked at thoughtfully. Ling sent updates about Al’s progress in alkahestry, invitations to Xing, letters begging Winry to come teach his people how to make automail, an invitation to his wedding next year, information Ed hadn’t quite decided about whether he should exploit or not about Colonel Bastard’s past, ideas for vengeance, and requesting input on what kind of décor he should put in the imperial palace once he finished remodeling.

In England the chaos settled somewhat, life went on. On Halloween the Ministry released details about the collapse of the Death Room and subsequent instability of the building, asking that if anyone had any information that could possibly be of any use in figuring out the phenomena which had precipitated it, they should submit it at once.

As a six hundred year old alchemist read the article his eyebrows rose, and he grew more and more pale as he read the section about the Death Room. After all this time—

But perhaps he was being hasty, and it was merely that the unspeakables had aroused that’s attention, not that it was coming at last. He would have to examine the traces himself. After all, he had successfully evaded it for six hundred years, and if it were coming for him now, why would it act there of all places? It would take about three days to get there in the muggle ways, which he preferred as they were much more comfortable and quiet than wizarding methods of travel. He dropped some Sickles on the counter and paid for his drink, exiting the pub.

As Halloween night fell Voldemort eyed the Stone and then the alchemy array. Soon, he would have a body again. Quirrell would serve his use here, with what little life was left him. The stone would form for him a body from next to nothing, so long as he had the proper array, the books indicated. He had placed at the point that catalysts were supposed to be the items that would symbolize his body and powers, earth and bone at the cardinal point for his body, a vial of snake venom for his Slytherin abilities, Dementor cloak for power over spirits, and the stone would do the rest.

The stone was placed into the center of the circle, and the circle began to shine with a deep blood-red light. Voldemort felt something as much akin to a thrill of exultation as he was still capable of, and released Quirell’s body, moving himself to the center of the circle, awaiting the formation of his new body.

Black mist rose from the edges of the circle, and the light went from blood-red to a sickly purple. A fine curved line appeared over the circle, dividing it into two halves, and then spreading out, until a giant eye covered most of the circle.

Black hands reached up from every line and junction, and Voldemort began to wonder if things were, perhaps, not working as they ought. The eye seemed to focus on him, and the hands arched up, curving over the circle until they made a roof, and reached down for him. The light intensified, and then suddenly: Voldemort found himself in a white void, before a pair of immense stone doors, imposing, even with the seven large cracks crossing them, that rendered the carvings indecipherable .

“Hello, Tom Marvolo Riddle. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What are you, and who do you think you are, to call me by that name?! I am Lord Voldemort!”

“Who am I?” The thing grinned. “One name you might have for me is the world. Or you might call me the universe. Or perhaps God, or perhaps The Truth, I am All, and I am One, so of course this also means that I am you. I’m the truth of your despair, the inescapable price of your boastfulness. And now I shall bestow upon you the despair you deserve.”

“How dare you? I am the greatest sorcerer in the world, I deserve immortal life not despair!”

“Arrogant fool, did you truly believe that you could become superior and immortal by splitting your soul? Don’t make me laugh, you have only made yourself less, and as only a whole can be properly punished, I shall reunite you with your cast-offs.”

Clouds of mist, each trailing a high pitched scream behind them, impacted Voldemort. At the same time there was a grinding sound, and the cracks on the gate became smaller, places where the cracks had vanished from entirely now looked scarred over, though the carvings were still indecipherable.

The crumbling doors opened. The hands that had brought him here emerged, only this time there were more, and they were more solid. They latched onto him and pulled.

“This despair is reserved for the boastful.”

Struggling against the hands dragging him into the portal, Voldemort cried, “You can’t do this to me!”

“You brought this outcome upon yourself.”

“When I break free I shall destroy you! What are you doing, creature?”

The Gate slammed shut.

“You simply must see the answer with your own eyes.” Truth said.

In the world, as Tom Riddle was meeting the Decider of Equivalence, a great eye opened beneath each item that he had made into a horcrux: A cup in a bank vault, a battered crown in a cluttered room, a locket in a dilapidated house, a ring in a shack, and under a dementor that had eaten the soul fragment in a diary, when it had been brought to arrest the holder of the diary. Little black hands dragged the fragments from all of the objects, and all the power in the stone of the ring as well, but what happened with the dementor was more complicated.

The Hive knew the power of Truth, having escaped long ago, and the Hive had no wish to return there, so it attempted something it had never done before, and tried to cut that one dementor off from the Hive. The attempt was in vain, as the pull spread from one to the next, and throughout the Hive, came the pull of Origin. The wizarding guards of Azkaban, the Dementor Keepers, watched in shock and horror as the same hands that had been stated this morning, to have not only destroyed the Dark Marks but dragged Mad-Eye Moody into the Veil and closed it, now dragged the dementors into the Eye.

Chapter Text

>When the news of the dementors’ disappearance reached them, Minerva, Severus, and Emmaline Vance, who was now the DADA teacher, conferred. They had had this argument yesterday, after the full story of the collapse in the Ministry emerged, but had not come to a conclusion. Now, with the news of the dementors, it was all the more urgent that they solve this matter quickly: Should they go public with what they learned in Alfoné?

“Well, I say we should tell them,” Emmaline said hotly. “After all, we know what we know. It could do some good. And is more than anybody else knows! So, why not?”

“They wouldn’t believe us, and telling people wouldn’t do any good whatsoever. You place too much stock in the intelligence of humanity as a whole, Vance.” Severus snapped back.

“Telling couldn’t do any harm either, I think,” Minerva added thoughtfully. “They will either believe or they won’t. Either way, it’s more than anyone else knows, and I shouldn’t think it would do us any harm.”

Severus rattled off. “It could discredit our entire school, cast doubt on our attempts to save the dunderheads’ lives with wandless magic, and give some people the opinion that we are either insane or setting up for a power grab.”

“How can anyone interpret this as setting up for a power grab? Wandless magic is less powerful! And our story doesn’t have any angles that I can see that would be taken as part of a power grab.” Emmaline retorted.

“Slytherins,” Minerva sighed. “Being politicians, of course the Slytherins in government would try to take advantage of this. I know the Board of Governors wants more of an in here at Hogwarts than they have at present. Ever since the Founders agreed to them so that the Wizards Council at the time would let the school stand, they’ve been trying to gain more power than they were set up for. — Regardless, I believe we should tell them. If not all of what we know, at least some. ”

“And that prophecy has gotten everywhere, and so many people have their own interpretations that we should at least tell people what we think we know in regard to that. If nothing else, all the references to Alchemy can only mean one thing. And there’s what that thing said when it spoke through Elric. “Given what Snape showed us,” Vance nodded at Severus, “I think it’s obvious that all of these incidences of little black hands taking the Veil, the Marks, and the dementors, are that thing acting.”

“The description of what happened to the walls of the Death Room reminds me of the murals on the walls of the Halls in Xerxes. And the blue energy we’ve only seen in one place, when they were doing alchemy, and I believe in some of the murals, but I am not sure. Either way, it ties in to the prophecy.” Minerva looked at Severus. “Alchemy, the blue light of alchemy, the Veil a rift, and the prophecy states that the woe began because the Liar crossed the True Alchemist. Dumbledore crossed Elric. That started this whole mess. It all ties in to that prophecy.” She concluded firmly, “We have to tell them.”

“krrrrrrrrrrrr!” Goldie persisted.

“No, I won’t go. I’m not going back Outside. I swore to myself when I came back that I wasn’t ever going again. And besides, I need to pay back Colonel Bastard,” he motioned with a fistful of change. “He can’t say I don’t pay my debts.”

“Krr, trrch, chrrp?”

“Yeah, I promised I’d pay him back if he made Fuhrer. He made it, so I’m paying him back. Didn’t even take him that long. ”

“Korrrrrr?”
 

“Yes, of course, then I’m going to borrow more, until he turns this country into a democracy.”

“Krrrru”.

Why had the stupid bird now put her wing over her eyes? Oh well, she was a bird, she had weird gestures.

Great, Mustang was off the platform now. “Hey, Colonel Bastard!” Fortunately for him, Hawkeye was not trigger happy. Colonel Bastard’s new, ceremonial guard-types, on the other hand, maaan, they were trigger happy. Fortunately they had bad aim. He had a suspicion Hawkeye had just rolled her eyes.

“What is it, Fullmetal?”

“Sir, shouldn’t we arrest him?”

“No, that’s just Fullmetal. He’s like that.”

“What do you mean, I’m like that? I’m not like anything! I’m unique.”

One of the idiot ceremonial guards muttered to another, “This bratty pipsqueak saved the country?”

“WHO'RE YOU CALLING A PIPSQUEAK MIDGET WHO CAN'T EVEN GO TO THE BEACH BECAUSE HE'S SO SMALL THAT HE'D SINK INTO THE SAND AND THEN WHEN THE TIDE COMES IN HE DOESN'T EVEN SAY THAT HE'S WORRIED ABOUT DROWNING BECAUSE HE'S SO MICROSCOPIC HE COULD BREATHE OXYGEN ATOMS THROUGH THE WATER?”*

The idiots’ eyes glazed over in incomprehension. What could you expect from such dimwits?

“Anyways, Colonel Bastard, you made Fuhrer, here’s the money.”

“kkkrrrrr, krrrkkkk, krrrrrrrrrRRRR. Quorrrrrhhh, quorrrhhhhrrrrquierrrrrrRRR”

“No, I won’t.”

“Not only did this kid save the country, he’s insane, talking to a bird.”

“Fullmetal does that,” Hawkeye said dryly.

“What are you arguing with her about this time?” Colonel Bastard asked, curiously. “Usually I can get a general idea, but now all I get is an impression of ‘yes you are.’”

“She wants me to go Outside and I don’t want to.”

“Why does she want you to go Outside? The examples I met didn’t seem very impressive, and we chased them off easily. What does she want any more dealings with them for?”

“She thinks they ought to know that the guy they think is dead is actually dead for real, this time. Truth got him. Good riddance.”

“Krrrrreee” Goldie preened in satisfaction.

“Oh, and that Truth also got the Gate escapees they use as executioners. Man, that’s sick.” Ed paused to contemplate the corruption of those who would use ‘Gate escapees’ as executioners. “But I’m not going!”

“Why not?”

“You know why — they’re all too stupid to live! I told you seven years ago.”

Hawkeye nodded. Colonel Bastard looked falsely confused. Ed could tell it was false because his real confused expression was rather different. “It must have gotten lost at delivery of the rest of your short report.”

Ed growled. “Say that again and I’ll send Hughes your way with new pictures.”

There was a collective flinch from all within hearing distance. Everybody knew Hughes. If Hughes with pictures of his daughter as a five year old had been bad, Hughes with pictures of her as a twelve year old playing with her two younger brothers was much, much worse.

“Besides, Al would kill me if I went Outside alone with just Areal.”

“You used her actual name? This must be serious.”

“I’ve got to use it occasionally, or she’ll get offended, and trust me, you do not want an offended phoenix.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Fullmetal.”

“You said Al would kill you if you went Outside with just her.” They were walking away from the crowd a little by this point.

“Yep.”

“Why don’t I go with you, in an hour or so, after I finish lording it over the peons in my new office?”

“Bastard. You just took away my reason for not going.” The Bastard looked pleased with himself. Goldie radiated smug. The idiot bodyguards were now gaping in slackjawed astonishment. There must be a bit too much awesome in one place for them to handle. The combination of two clap alchemists in one place, and Riza Hawkeye who could sometimes keep up with them when they talked alchemy, and let’s not forget the phoenix…! Yep, they were awesome. And let’s not forget who saved the world a few years ago, now. Yep. Them again. Minus the phoenix.

The Gate cackled.

“I’m aware of that, Fullmetal. But I’ve always been a little curious as to the Outside, and your glowing report–” could he be anymore sarcastic? “–only made me more curious.” Apparently the answer was yes, he could be more sarcastic.

“Krrrrrrrrr”

“Fine, we’ll go.”

“Sir,” Hawkeye began in that tone that meant, I strongly disapprove of this, but talking you out of it is more effort than it is worth. After all, you won’t be gone that long. She sighed, and finished, “I expect you to watch each other’s backs.”

“Right,” he and Colonel Bastard said in unison. When Hawkeye said something in that tone, you did it.

Two days after Halloween, Minerva McGonagall was at the Ministry, having arranged to make a presentation on what she and the other survivors thought they could contribute about what was going on with magic, and what the little black hands that had taken the dementors away were.

As she was walking through the atrium, she heard a fwooosh, and startled murmurs broke out behind her.

“Hey, cat lady!” Minerva froze. She knew that voice, and everyone in the ministry lobby was suddenly staring at something directly behind her. Feeling doomed, she turned. It was Elric, and on his arm Areal sat, seeming pleased. Behind him was General Mustang, looking around curiously.

“That Volturewart guy of yours is dead now for real. He tried to use a Philosopher’s Stone and some very sloppy alchemy, no ingredients whatsoever, and ran into Truth two days ago, and Goldie wanted me to tell you. Maaan , Truth was happy to get him. Apparently it doesn’t like people who split their souls. Although why anyone would want to when all it’ll do is make them weaker….” He returned his attention to the bird. “Well, I told her, can we go home now?”

“Rrr.”

Minerva managed to ask, “Does that mean that Voldemort is truly gone?” the words of prophesy rang in her mind. At the coming of the Herald of the Shattered False Lord’s death, the doom shall fall! Here was Elric mentioning that Voldemort had split his soul, or shattered it, and he had called himself a lord with no reason for such a title. A false title. They had wondered if it might be him but would never have guessed that the herald was Elric.

The crowd flinched at the name. Then murmuring broke out as the implications of her question sank in.

“He can’t get much more Truly gone than that, Cat Lady. Oh, and those Dementy things too.” At this the crowd went silent. “Why you people use Gate escapees for executioners I don’t know. It probably racked up your entire society’s Toll even higher.” He returned his attention to the phoenix. “Now, why can’t we go home?”

“Rrr, chirr rrr!”

“Whada you mean I haveta— it’s on their heads not mine! No. No way, nunuh, not happening. I won’t.” He paused his argument with the phoenix and cast a critical eye over the Atrium. “Man that statue’s tasteless.”

“Krrr!”

“Even yours are better than that, Fullmetal.” Did General Mustang sound dry?

“Yes mine certainly do look better! Thanks Goldie, Bastard.”

“Rlr rr chirr….” The phoenix, which Elric was clearly having a conversation with, buried its head under a wing for a moment, as if to say, ‘I give up…’ then it gave him a stern look. Mustang looked as if he wanted to do likewise. Some of the crowd were inching forwards, as if trying to get up the courage to ask a question of the young man with the phoenix on his silver arm.

“No I won’t. They didn’t understand me last time, so why should I?” Minerva gathered that Areal was trying to make him explain something, and shuddered at the thought of having to endure another Elric Explanation even with a proper translator.

“Chrr chirr chii!”

“You’ve got a point but I’m still not doing it.” He gave the Fountain of Magical Brethren a considering look.

“Krrkrr! Cree! Eeek Eeek skreee!”

Mustang nodded. Could he also understand the phoenix? Minerva wondered.

“Yeah I’m not gonna argue with you on that point. Nobody deserves that.” He strode over to the fountain, the crowd parting before him, and clambered on to the edge of it, where he balanced for a moment, studying the statues, before leaping down again, landing with a clang.

“Rrrrr?”

“I know that thoughtful look, it’s usually a bad sign. What are you planning?” General Mustang sounded morbidly curious.

“You’ll see.” And Elric was by far too cheerful.

Trickles of dread crawled down Minerva’s spine.

He gave a little toss with the silver arm, launching the phoenix into the air, clapped his hands, and pressed them to the fountain. Blue light flashed, and radiated out over the fountain, until the entire thing was glowing brilliantly, and then from the center of the light the statues seemed to be melting and flowing, shifting into a new form.

KRrrrr! Areal shrieked.

Mustang spun around and snapped, the resulting explosion diverting the piece of the floor that had torn itself up and launched itself in their direction. Another snap. Fire blazed for a moment, then there was a loud boom. Shards of the stone now rained down. Clap. Slap. More of the floor was suddenly mutilated as a nondescript man from whose direction the first mutilation of the floor had come was wrapped in a giant stone fist.

The blue light from Elric died behind Mustang. Everyone gawked: the Fountain Of Magical Brethren had been changed beyond recognition.

It now bore a pair of scales, such as every viewer had used in potions, only a hundred times larger. On one side of the balances, clearly recognizable in detailed brass work were the bodies of Headmaster Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and, was that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? On the other side of the balances was a wand. The pillar in the center was emblazoned with a many ringed eye, which gave the impression of judging the content of the scales. The pedestal now bore the words: The Cost of Magic, on one side, and on the other: What Price a Wand? And from the pedestal peculiar hands reached for the dead.

Minerva remembered another line. Measures will balance. And what was that statue but measures balancing. And if Elric was the Herald, and Voldemort the Shattered False Lord, then were the other two depicted the Fool and Liar? Dumbledore had certainly been a liar. But if Elric was the Herald, he couldn’t be the Golden Alchemist as she had originally believed. Could he? But it had all started when Dumbledore and Elric came in to conflict six years ago.

Elric turned around looking satisfied. Then he noticed the floor, the man and the giant stone fist holding him. “Wow, Colonel Bastard, you’re starting to pick up the stone fist technique, too! I guess you do have style.” Areal settled once more on his arm.

“It’s remarkably useful and surprisingly easy,” came the dry response. He eyed the remade statue, “You didn’t add any skulls, I’m impressed.”

“I have a perfectly good sense of style! Besides the eye and the dead are more than enough.”

Areal trilled. Both Alchemists came alert staring at the man wrapped in stone, Elric scowling. “You made a Philosopher’s Stone?”

Minerva, shocked, thought, “Flamel?” From the looks of the audience others were working out the man’s identity, too.

Mustang added, “That explains your carelessness about collateral damage here. If you’d succeeded in your attack, the rebound would have destroyed at least this half of the room and killed everyone in it.”

Elric seemed to be listening to nothing for moment. “I’d feel sorry for you, only you brought it on yourself and completely deserve what’s coming. You don’t deserve to call yourself an alchemist,” he snarled. “Don’t you know anything about the cycle? By the way, Truth got your Stone three days ago, and it is mad. From what it tells me, I’d say you have about a week left before you meet it again. Not enough time to make another stone.”

He turned to the phoenix. “Will that do?”

The phoenix eyed the statue critically, then the imprisoned alchemist, and then nodded. “Crr.”

“Great, can we go home now?”

“Krrre.”

Fire flared, and they were gone, leaving a vast stunned silence behind them. As she recovered, Minerva began mentally revising her planned presentation.

As the day drew on, many highly skilled wizards and witches examined the statue Elric had remade; some trying unsuccessfully to restore its previous shape, Transfiguration having no effect on it, although it did affect the fist, and reductio simply dissipating rather than touch it. Others were deciphering the symbolism of the new statue. The scale were an old sign of judgment, and to see dead being weighed against a wand and found wanting, if the hands were any indication, was a striking and worrying sight.

Then there was the inscription.

Did it mean that magic needed payment in death? Or was it something more sinister? The Quibbler ran a ten page article on the visit, the symbolism of the statue, and a complete transcript of her presentation with had been held in the atrium, as it was the only place big enough to hold the audience. Not to be outdone the Prophet produced an afternoon release.

Coupled with the one-sided conversation between boy and phoenix and what the boy had said about nobody deserving that, many suspected that it had a more sinister meaning. Did it have any connection to the prophecy uttered two months ago?

Elric had golden coloration, and was an alchemist. Could he be the Golden Alchemist in the prophecy, and if he was then were there other alchemists than Nicholas Flamel? There were three Alchemist names in the prophecy and yet Elric fit all of them. The man he’d called “Colonel Bastard,” whom Minerva identified as actually a General from Alfone was also an alchemist. McGonnagal, Vance and Snape assured everyone of that. But he couldn’t be Golden. Maybe he was the True? The Al-che-mist? But whatever role they tried to fit him to, it was clear that Elric was better fit.

After several days of puzzling over it Minerva privately decided that Elric had been all three of them and that the Tolls he’d explained to them were being enforced; the explanation for wand magic being exhausting was Tolls were being taken. And the Toll for all of wizarding society was the destruction of that society. Apparation failing, she put down to the closure of the Veil, after looking at her memory of the visit to Alfone again, and noticing the possessed Elric’s comments about a rift to a false portal.

They began to relax as no doom became apparent immediately following the visit.

They should not have done so.

First the Hogwarts ghosts all became horrified upon hearing the news. That evening they were whispering to each other in various corners, and even the usually silent Bloody Baron was quite vocal, more notably, Peeves was serious. The next morning they had all vanished to debate something, and not returned.

Soon the wizarding world seethed with unrest. Voldemort was gone, but what were they left with? Magic was changing. A force they’d had no knowledge of was interfering, and no one could stop it.

Those wizards who still used wands, which was most of the world, were finding it extremely tiring to do so. All but the smallest spells were extremely exhausting. Those who tried wandless, as Minerva urged, found it much less tiring than wand magic. Suddenly there was no more pushback on Hogwarts teaching primarily wandless magic.

Then came the illnesses to the wanded, followed by waves of death amongst the people who’d used it for every little thing. Molly Weasly had been one of the first to go, casting spells to her last breath in stubborn defiance of the truth that it was killing her. Others followed, and it was the same for everyone. No cause of death for any one of them, all perfectly heathy, just fading out.

Doom rang heavy through the world as the words of the prophesy echoed in the minds of all who knew of it, like the grim peal of a bell, slow and ponderous, inevitable. Then someone noticed that as the death toll climbed the scales were gradually moving, when they hadn’t moved when in curiosity people placed heavy items upon them. The scales had been believed to be merely a statue, but now it seemed that they had weighed something after all, intangible but heavy. Their presence was dreadful, as every time they moved a fraction, you knew someone had died.

Years passed, the scales came closer to balancing but never did, wandless magic became the norm, a blonde Ravenclaw theorized that the phenomenon that had come to be called the wanded death had been caused by a decrease in the ambient magic in the world, causing the wands which had formerly channeled it with a tiny spark of their wielders power, to now expend their users life energy instead of the ambient magic. And in Amestris Edward Elric had his vengeance upon Colonel Bastard, recording his proposal to Hawkeye and broadcasting it to the entire country with the help of that radio team, had one upped that flaming letters.