Chapter Text
Perenelle knew her years were numbered. It was odd, almost, to have an expiration date. She remembered when she had been young, before she had met her late husband, and death was something she feared. Now, having lived many lifetimes, she had grown to understand death in her quest to escape it.
Her husband’s death was still fresh in her mind despite being a few years back. When one has lived as long as she, time no longer possesses the same quantifiable characteristics. Her days were copied and pasted as she waited. She had done all she wanted, and she found herself lacking purpose.
Perenelle knew far better than anyone that it was death that made life worth living.
She would like to think her life was worthwhile.
Her monotony life was disrupted by a knock on her door. She did not receive guests other than the occasional visit from Dumbledore who always notified her in advance and arrived through the Floo.
As soon as she opened her door, her breath seemed to be stolen from her. There, on her doorstep, was a boy whose resemblance to her husband was unmistakable. The boy carelessly pushed his wet bangs away from his eyes where they had been clinging to his skin due to the rain.
“Perenelle Flamel?” He questioned; his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
She could only nod. Later she would kick herself for leaving the boy standing in the rain, but at the moment she could hardly hear her thoughts over the pounding of her heartbeat.
“My deadbeat father still kicking around?”
“What?” she managed.
“Hohenheim,” he probed impatiently.
They stared at each other for a minute before the boy relented. “Nicolas Flamel,” he offered. “I hear you’re married.”
“Oh,” she responded, her voice faint in her own ears. “Yes, my husband. He died three years ago, actually.”
At this, she got an expression other than his determined wariness. His eyes widened and he took a slight step back.
“Why don’t you come inside,” she offered after several long moments.
He went to say something but seemed to change his mind halfway through. She could see him swallow thickly before answering, “Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.”
-
Edward Elric was, by far, the strangest Slytherin Blaise had ever met.
When Dumbledore had announced a transfer student would be joining them and that he had been sorted into Slytherin, Blaise had been distantly curious in the way people are when something is new but does not directly affect them. He had noted the strange presence at the table when he had arrived for the welcoming feast, but he had not paid much mind.
However, once he had turned to look at the new student properly, he wondered how he could have possibly overlooked him.
He was pretty, he realized first, in a vaguely androgenous way. Strong jawline, broad shoulders, and compact muscles, yes, but his hair was long and a flattering shade of gold that matched his eyes. His lips were fuller than was common with most boys, and there was something almost soft about his features despite the boy’s prominent scowl and challenging gaze.
Edward Elric was dangerous, of that Blaise knew for sure, but Blaise had always liked to play with fire.
-
Harry was naturally wary of a new Slytherin at Hogwarts. It was understandable, considering his history of people trying to kill him. With Malfoy acting as suspiciously as he was, Harry wasn’t sure he had the time to be worrying about another Slytherin.
He had tried to put Elric out of his mind to focus on his lessons with Snape, Malfoy’s disappearances, and Dumbledore’s memories of Tom Riddle. It was a difficult task though, considering that Elric had quickly become a common topic of gossip throughout the school.
For one, he was the sort of attractive that garnered the attention of anyone inclined towards men, and even those who were not watched him curiously as he navigated through the flirtations of his classmates with a sort of dismissive grace that was almost as impressive as it was infuriating.
Harry himself did not have time for romance, there was a war coming and he wasn’t sure he would live past seventeen at all. Ginny was pretty and strong in a way that drew in him, but she deserved more than someone with a looming deadline.
But beyond teenage hormones, it had soon become clear that Elric was not the standard student. He spent most of his time in the library surrounded by books. He had a pass to the restricted section, but there was a charm on all of the books he brought out that made it impossible to read the titles.
He attended classes on an inconsistent schedule – sometimes even sitting in on Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw classes instead of joining the other Slytherins. Sometimes he took notes, but he never participated beyond observation when Flitwick had them cast new charms and Slughorn had them brew potions.’
All of the professors seemed fine with this development, and when the class was busy with independent work, Elric would often approach the professor to speak in low tones.
Elric’s interactions with Snape were what drew the most attention. The first time Elric had attended Snape’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class, it had been with the Gryffindors and Slytherins, and Harry had not thought much of it until Snape swept in, robes billowing.
The professor had assessed the class with contempt, a sneer twisting his lips when his eyes landed on Harry before moving on, and his attention settled on Elric who had been busy observing the gruesome images on the classroom walls.
“Elric,” he snapped.
Harry had not been expecting Elric’s abrupt standing, his posture at attention, and the automatic salute. Harry had had to turn in his seat to observe him, and from where he sat, he could see the almost glazed look that had passed over Elric’s eyes. It unnerved him, and he clearly was not the only one.
Snape himself had seemed more off balance than Harry had ever seen the man.
“Elric,” he repeated, still sharp but with an underlying question.
“Sir,” Elric returned crisply.
After a moment of consideration, Snape responded, “At ease.”
It made little sense to Harry, but it obviously meant something to Elric, whose hand fell but his posture remained attentive.
“Follow me,” Snape ordered, and walked out of the classroom with Elric at his heels.
The class immediately burst into a hushed chatter, and Harry turned to look at Hermione. She always seemed to know the answers to things, and he hoped this was the case.
At his and Ron’s questioning looks, she spoke. “He reacted like a soldier.”
“Soldier?” Ron asked.
“It’s a muggle Auror,” she explained. “Except the military is much more organized and stricter than wizard policing dynamics. When I was growing up, there was a retired soldier down the street from my house who my parents would sometimes invite for dinner. He always seemed so sad.”
“Why did Elric do that though?” Ron wondered, voicing Harry’s own confusion.
“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “Snape kind of reminds me of the commanding officers I’ve seen in films now that I think about it. He gives orders when he talks.”
Harry and Ron nodded in agreement; Snape had always been a commanding prick in Harry’s humble opinion.
“Elric responded to it almost unconsciously, but he didn’t really seem to be present during it. I’d guess it reminded him of something and he just reacted. But I don’t know why someone our age would have the instinct to act like a soldier.”
-
When Snape came back to the classroom, Elric was not with him. Snape continued the lesson as though nothing had occurred, but Blaise’s mind was elsewhere.
-
“Hello,” Blaise greeted as he slid into the seat across from Elric at one of the library tables. The boy did not look up from his book, but Blaise did not let it discourage him. “I’m Blaise Zabini,” he continued in a conversational tone.
After a moment, Elric looked up at him. He waited patiently as the other assessed him critically, and it paid off when he closed his book and gave Blaise his full attention. Blaise resisted the urge to preen beneath it. “Edward Elric,” he offered in return. “Call me Edward.”
“Then call me Blaise,” he responded happily, reaching out his hand for a handshake. Edward eyed it as though it was a personal offense.
“I don’t do handshakes,” he told Blaise, who took it in stride with only a quick glance at the gloved hands that were folded on the table in front of the blonde. The gloves had been a topic of curiosity to Blaise. He had spent enough time observing the other to know that he had full dexterity in both hands. Perhaps significant scarring, Blaise had theorized, or a germaphobe.
Blaise tried not to think about it too much, as his train of thought always quickly derailed to the rest of Edward’s outfit – the tight black shirt and leather pants beneath his open robe. His boots looked durable with their thick sole and tight laces. Practical, unlike the leather. Blaise wondered how quickly he could get said pants off.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Blaise focused back on the boy in front of him. He did not look as though he was enjoying Blaise’s company, but he was not ignoring him or offering rude remarks as Blaise had seen him do to other students who had been brave enough to approach him.
“What do you want?” Edward asked, and Blaise wondered why it was so ingrained in him to seek for strangers’ ulterior motives. Blaise had to admit that he himself was guilty.
“Would you believe me if I said I simply wished to make your acquaintance?”
“No,” Ed answered without hesitation.
Blaise sat back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Ed’s. “That’s fair,” he conceded. “I’m a curious person and you’re quite the mystery. I have heard from a third year Hufflepuff that you’re actually a fairy that has emerged from the Forbidden Forest to learn about wizarding culture. I would have been inclined to believe them had I not known there aren’t any fairies in the Forbidden Forest.”
Ed snorted, and Blaise found it charming for some reason. “Do I look like a fairy to you?” Ed asked with amusement.
“You’re certainly pretty enough,” Blaise returned with a wink. Ed’s slight blush in response made him giddy in a way he was not used to. Blaise knew he was attractive and often used it to his advantage, but it was different with Ed.
“I can safely assure you I’m no fairy,” Ed countered. “I don’t think I’d be any good at dancing in the woods.”
“I took ballroom dancing lessons when I was younger, I could always teach you.”
Ed laughed as though Blaise had told him a joke. It confused him, but the genuine amusement in Ed’s voice made him feel light. “I have two right feet,” Ed responded.
“Don’t you mean two left feet?” Blaise wondered.
Ed just shook his head, the look in his eyes suggesting he knew something Blaise did not.
“If you ever change your mind, the offer remains open. I could never say no to having a pretty boy in my arms.”
Ed’s face changed so suddenly it almost made Blaise flinch, but he held his ground against the silent judgement he received. Ed seemed to be looking for something, and Blaise did his best to convey his honesty. After a moment, Ed’s shoulders relaxed, and Blaise let out a breath he had been holding.
“Maybe,” Ed allowed. “Try again tomorrow.”
It was a dismissal, and Blaise did his best to suppress his disappointment. “I will,” he promised, standing to leave Ed to his books. Truly, the interaction had gone far better than he would have predicted, and despite the abrupt ending, Ed had essentially accepted his presence in the future.
Blaise would treasure the privilege, he decided, as he had the feeling Edward Elric did not let people in easily.
-
Dumbledore had met Nicolas Flamel back when his joints did not ache and his bones did not creak. He could say very few people were his friend, but he had always considered Nicolas to be at the top of that list. They had not been overly involved in each other’s life, but they met up occasionally and Dumbledore allowed himself to be more open than he had been since Gellert.
Gellert still made his heart pang, and valiantly tried to suppress the crushing sorrow that mixed with relief at the thought of him. Now was not the time. It would never be the time.
Still, when Perenelle had reached out to him about Nicolas’ son, he had had to take a few moments to digest the information. A child was a rather big deal, Dumbledore knew from his years of being Headmaster. He had no children of his own – all he could think about was how he had failed Ariana and did not deserve to half a young life entrusted to him.
Hypocritically, he pointedly did not think of James and Lily’s son. (Harry, his name was Harry, and he was more than his parents, more than the mark on his forehead, more than Dumbledore’s machinations.)
Dumbledore could easily see Nicolas in the features of his son, but there was something inherently different about Edward that startled him. Nicolas’ eyes had always held a broken sort of regretful sorrow that only faded when he looked upon his wife, but even then, it was simply muted, not gone.
There was nothing broken about Edward Elric. He was fire and determination. A manic energy lurked within him, but his intensity and single-minded focus on his goals held it together. Edward Elric knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it.
Which is where Dumbledore himself came in.
Or, really, where the Hogwarts’ library came in and therefore Dumbledore was an obstacle as much as he was an opportunity. It was a new experience to be categorized as nothing more than a hurdle to overcome – usually his battles were personal.
Edward had been straightforward with his intentions, although not altogether honest with his motivations. Dumbledore had been hesitant to grant him access to a school full of children, but it was Perenelle’s sympathetic fondness for the boy that ultimately swayed him.
Well, also the prospect of learning more about alchemy. Dumbledore had always been and always would be an opportunist.
Edward had been firmly against telling Dumbledore anything but had eventually conceded to a degree whilst murmuring something about “equivalent exchange”, a phrase he remembered Nicolas absentmindedly mentioning a few times.
In exchange for allowing Edward full access to the school and a private room, Edward would share his magical research with Dumbledore as well as the theory of true alchemy – and wasn’t it interesting to learn that the alchemy Nicolas revealed to the wizarding world barely scratched the surface?
-
Luna was happy with her friendships. Her first year had been difficult; her fellow Ravenclaws were cruel to her in response to her strange mannerisms. She had always been old for her age regardless of what it seemed like to outsiders. Luna knew her worth; cutting words and missing shoes were not enough to change that.
Still, she was grateful when she had become closer with Harry and Ginny. Hermione was nice enough, but Luna was not ignorant to her casual dismissal of Luna nor Ron’s completely disregard of her. But Harry was very sweet and did his best to be welcoming to her when he had the time. He had a great burden on his shoulders, so Luna soaked up the attention he had to spare and asked for no more.
Ginny was the best, however, since she spent the most time with Luna and never treated her as though she could not understand things. Luna knew that Ginny thought her observations about Nargles were nonsense, but she was able to look past it to be friends with her despite it.
It wasn’t until she ran into Edward Elric in the halls just before curfew that she realized that it was possible for people to accept her in her entirety.
“Edward Elric,” she said dreamily. He looked up from where he had been intently watching a young girl play with a dog in one of the many paintings.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Luna,” she supplied. “You don’t have any Wrackspurts,” she told him, fascinated. People tended to have at least a few flitting around them at all times, although recently Harry had been swarmed by them. He had brushed her off when she told him her worries.
“What are Wrackspurts?” Edward asked, curious. “Should I have them?”
She shook her head. “They’re creatures that go inside your ears to make your brain fuzzy,” she explained.
Edward seemed to consider this seriously. “Where do they come from? How can I keep them away?”
She had never really gotten this far in a conversation about the things she seemed to be the only one to know about. She offered him a more genuine smile than her usual absentminded one.
“Daddy has been working on a new enchantment on silver.” To demonstrate, she pulled a necklace out from under her shirt to show him. It was a simple chain with an animal pendant that Luna could tell from Edward’s squinting he couldn’t quite figure out.
Luna didn’t know what it was either, but she liked to make up stories when asked.
“I don’t really like things around my neck,” Edward told her, eyes intent on the silver as though it would spill its magical secrets if he glared hard enough.
“That’s okay.” She pushed aside her loose hair to show her left ear. “Piercings work too, it just has to be near your head. Piercings work best, actually, but they’re small so you need multiple for it to work.”
Edward reached up to prod his own ear, and Luna could tell he was weighing his options. “How can I get some?” he asked, making up his mind.
“Daddy sent me too many,” she confided happily, I can give you some.
“How much?” he asked.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Three on each ear,” she determined.
“No, I mean how much do I owe you?” Edward clarified.
“Say hi to me in the hallways,” she bartered seriously.
He seemed taken aback. “That’s it?”
Luna nodded confidently. He was watching her intently, gauging her seriousness. Eventually, he seemed to accept that was enough and agreed.
“How do we do this?” he asked, and she simply smiled serenely.
-
After giving her the stipulation of “no dangly shit”, Luna had been gifted full authority on the ear-piercing process due to her experience. When she had laid out her – frankly excessive – earrings, he had seemed a bit lost. After some coaxing, he had selected a good pile of the simpler ones – just silver loops or studs.
When she had asked where he wanted the piercings, he had given her a blank look. “My ears,” he deadpanned, and Luna had giggled.
After informing him of all the different parts of the ear she could pierce, he had thrown his hands in the air and told her to choose. That decision had led them to the present where Luna was kneeled next to him as he sat on her dorm bed where she had snuck him in.
“Ready?” she asked gravely, wand in hand.
“You fucking know it,” he returned, offering her a lopsided smirk.
He was still throughout the procedure, and Luna was quick to realize that the pain of sticking the magical equivalent of a need through his ear hardly registered for him. It concerned her, but she was mostly just relieved not to be causing him pain.
By the time Edward was slipping out of the Ravenclaw dormitory, he was sporting two helix piercings and one conch piercing on each ear – all small hoops – and a list of instructions to care for his new jewelry.
-
Blaise was not sure what had spurred his current fixation to pierce his ears, but Blaise found himself grateful for it. He suspected it had something to do with Luna Lovegood – a rather odd Ravenclaw who Ed had taken to sitting with in the Great Hall for meals.
He would have been sad that he could no longer sit with Ed at the Slytherin table, but the blonde hardly spoke to him with their other classmates within hearing distance, so the development did not change much. If anything, it made it easier to stare at him without it being obvious to Ed.
Beyond the earrings that Blaise wanted to tug on with his teeth, Luna had taken to braiding Ed’s hair in different styles each day. They were never as absurd as Luna’s own hair sometimes was, but Blaise’s obsession with Ed’s hair was slowly getting worse. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to carefully run his fingers through it or grip it tight at the base of his skull and pull more.
Blaise was self-aware enough to realize his pining was getting rather pathetic.
-
For once, the first staff meeting of the year did not begin with what the topic of whatever trouble Potter had found himself involved with. It was as freeing as it was annoying, as the absence of the familiar troublesomeness of Potter had been easily filled by Edward Elric and all that he encompassed. Which was quite a bit, Severus realized, as the teachers shared their observations.
Severus, for one, had quite a few of his own experiences with the boy. Most notably, the time when his voice had triggered some lingering instinct within the boy.
When he had snapped the boy’s name, he had meant only to warn him not to cause a disturbance due to his lack of experience in regard to Defense. Instead, the boy had acted as though Severus was going to ask for a mission report or assign him orders.
Severus had been raised mostly muggle despite his awareness of magic. Magic meant beatings and his mother’s pained moans through thin walls.
Tobias Snape was a despicable human being.
To escape his homelife, Severus frequented the local library where he read anything he could get his hands on. Books about soldiers had fascinated him, and he had found himself immersed in military ranks and the dynamics between each. He fantasized about being a General and having the authority to order others to do things.
Severus knew he was not the sort of person who should have authority over children. His power complex was hardly as bad as it could be after being constantly put down throughout his youth, but it was not exactly healthy to feel a desperate need to control all aspects of his own life. That, combined with his penance to Lily and his status as a spy weighed heavily on him.
But it was with this knowledge that Severus recognized a soldier when he had taken in Elric’s flawless military stance. The boy had obviously not been fully aware of where he was, but it was undeniable that falling into line had been thoroughly trained into him at some stage in his life. Even in the wizarding world, sixteen-year-olds with military experience was strange.
When he had led the boy from his classroom, it had taken a while to snap Elric out of his trance. His “at ease” command had helped to a degree, but it was only after a few minutes of soothing narration of where the boy was that he came back to himself. Severus was not a soothing person, but the grateful look Elric had shot him through the obvious mortification made him feel oddly warm.
When he informed the staff of this when it reached his turn, he left that part out, instead just touching on the strange military behavior.
It clearly worried the staff, and they had turned to Dumbledore in askance.
The headmaster had signed heavily, and Severus immediately knew whatever answer they would be given would not be fulfilling.
“Mr. Elric’s stay here at Hogwarts is far from traditional, but I can assure you he is of no danger to anyone on the grounds. We have reached an agreement regarding his time here.” He paused, before admitting, “I know very little about his past, but his father was a dear friend of mine, and he needs help that he refuses to ask from others. I owe it to his father to gift him access to the resources he needs at the very least.”
“And what exactly does he need help with?” Severus asked.
Dumbledore offered only an apologetic smile. “That boy has lost everything, I believe he is seeking peace. I do not know if he will find that here, but I hope he will at least feel safe within the castle.”
The loss, yes, Severus could believe. Elric was undeniably the survivor of a great tragedy. However, Severus had looked into the golden eyes of Edward Elric, and he was confident that peace is not what he was after.
-
The first time Poppy met Edward Elric, he was being marched in by Minerva whose grip on his left shoulder looked painful. He was limping slightly, but his visage was twisted up in an expression that screamed just how much he did not want to be there.
She had plastered on her welcoming smile automatically, but shot a questioning look at her coworker.
“Mr. Elric collapsed in the hallway,” Minerva informed her succinctly.
“I just tripped!” Elric protested, but he was still favoring his leg.
Poppy had dealt with many students in her time, and she could spot the lie a mile off. She would never understand people and their desire to hide or underplay their injuries.
“Mr. Elric,” she started firmly. “Whatever the case, it never hurts to do a quick examination.” She realized that she had no records on his health, so it was a good opportunity to do a general scan of him.
He looked as though he wanted to argue further, but his shoulders slumped as he scrutinized her. “You wizards have medical confidentiality, right?” he asked eventually. It was a strange was to phrase the question, but Poppy was quick to reassure him.
“Anything you tell me about your health will remain strictly between the two of us unless you give me permission otherwise. Sometimes, should an injury affect the student’s quality of life significantly, I would advise informing the student’s head of house – in your case Professor Snape – but the decision is ultimately your own.”
Elric looked at Minerva for confirmation, and the woman gave him a sharp nod that seemed to be enough for Elric to accept her words at face value.
“Alright,” he agreed with a sigh. “But it’s just us,” he added firmly. Minerva tilted her head in understanding and made her way out with a curt farewell.
Turning her attention back to her patient, she led him to a curtained-off part of the hospital wing to allow for some privacy. “Usually, I would simply treat you for the reason you’re in the hospital wing, but I would like to do a general diagnostic scan with your permission.”
Once he had nodded his assent, she told him to strip to his boxers and stepped out of the room. It did not matter, seeing as she would be going back in and seeing him shirtless, but it made her patients feel better to not be watched stripped.
“You can come back,” she heard through the curtain, and she made her way back through the curtain only to freeze as her eyes lay upon him.
“Mr. Elric,” she started haltingly before floundering. What first drew her gaze were, understandably, the metal limbs. Plural. His right arm and left leg appeared to be made completely out of metal, and beyond that, were attached to a rather gruesome amount of scar tissue. The arm even seemed to be bolted to his chest – his rib cage, she imagined distantly.
He only shrugged his mismatched shoulders, seemingly unconcerned, but Poppy could see the underlying discomfort in the way he had slightly hunched in on himself. “It’s raining today,” he told her flatly. “Makes my prosthetics ache. That’s why I fell earlier, I turned too fast. I’m fine.” His tone was clipped, and she managed to pull herself together.
“I see,” she responded, still feeling somewhat lightheaded. “I have never seen such prosthetics,” she observed. Wizards had little use for them, considering growing back limbs was a relatively easy procedure. The only case she had witnessed had been Alastor Moody whose eye and leg had been lost due to dark magic.
“My friend made them,” Elric offered, but made it clear no more would be said on the topic.
Still, she pushed. “How did you lose your limbs? Why didn’t you grow them back?”
He shot her a strange look. “I’m not a lizard.”
It took her a moment to process. “No, no. I meant – it’s not uncommon to use healing magic to regrow lost limbs. Most people choose that avenue rather than a prosthetic.” She left out the part where those who didn’t regrow their limb didn’t actually have much of a choice about it.
“Why not?” Elric asked under his breath before refocusing his attention on her. “I lost them in an accident when I was a kid,” he allowed vaguely.
“And why didn’t you grow them back?”
He still seemed slightly disturbed by the prospect, and she could see him weighing his words.
“Penance.”
-
Severus looked up from the extensive parchment Poppy had handed to him. She had ushered him into her office when he had arrived to answer her summons and promptly shoved the document into his hands. He was familiar with them – it was a preliminary screening form that listed past and current injuries and illnesses.
He had almost asked if this was a joke, but one look at her face wiped away any doubt he may have held. “Whose is this?”
“Edward Elric’s.”
“Ah.” Of course it was. The metal arm and leg were disturbing enough, but Severus’ attention was caught on the rather extensive list of injuries beyond the amputations – the cause of which magic had determined to be ‘toll’, something Severus was not sure he wanted to make sense of at that time.
“Gunshot wound in left external abdominal oblique,” he read aloud flatly. “Impalement wound through abdomen.” Poppy winced at that one.
“The scarring is extensive; I really don’t know how he survived it.”
Looking down, Severus continued. “Signs of broken ribs on four separate occasions. Shrapnel puncture wounds on outer right thigh.” Of course the right one, his left leg was made of metal. And wasn’t that a strange idea. “Blade wounds, multiple.”
When it became clear he would be reading no further, Poppy added, “Knife, sword, god knows what else. None of them appear to have been too life threatening, but some were quite deep and appeared to be too purposeful for a glancing blow. Someone has cut that boy up with a sickening amount of care.”
Severus’ throat felt tight, and he struggled to swallow around it.
“Not to mention the scar tissue on his flesh wrist and ankle. He’s been shackled.” Severus scanned the parchment in his hand and – ah, yes, there it was. He handed it back to Poppy before his eyes could take in the rest of its contents.
“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asked.
“Minerva dragged him here earlier today after he had apparently collapsed in the hallway. He explained that his prosthetics – which he referred to as automail – cause him pain when the weather is poor. When I asked if he had ever taken anything to ease the pain, he told me that he doesn’t like taking drugs because they make him tired. When I asked about potions specifically, he revealed he has never tried.”
Severus waited as she came to her conclusion.
“I asked him if he would be willing to try some. He was against it at first, but I managed to convince him eventually. He really seemed to be in a great deal of pain. He agreed to let me inform you of his… situation… since you’re the infirmary’s potion supplier. He has expressed interest in learning how to make them on his own should they work for him.”
“I see,” he drawled, mind working a mile a minute.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to keep this to yourself,” she told him.
“Of course not.” He reigned his instinct to snap at her, knowing that she was simply doing her job with such customary reminders. “I’ll see what I can do.”
-
Overall, Truth cared very little for Earth. Amestris offered more than enough entertainment for him, let alone the other countries. Sometimes he missed Xerxes, but it was an abstract feeling that confused him when he dwelled upon the topic.
So with all of his little alchemists to watch, Earth was an afterthought whenever the topic of Van Hohenheim was breached – something that occurred more often once Edward Elric entered the stage. Whatever Truth felt for Edward Elric balanced unstably between hatred and amused fondness.
It was because of this that he had refused Edward’s gate as the price for his brother’s body, and instead made the executive decision to punish the alchemist much more severely for visiting Truth’s domain more than anyone before him had.
Edward Elric had not lived for himself in a very long time. Once his father had left, he had thrown himself into the role of making his mother happy and keeping his brother distracted from the crushing abandonment the younger did not quite yet understand.
And then, Trish Elric was gone and only Al remained. He had not learned how to give up back then, and he took to alchemy was a disturbing desperation that resulted in disaster. That was the Edward Truth knew best – stupid, little, martyr alchemist. Yet so, so bright and driven that he remained a survivor despite missing understanding of his own self-importance.
They had crossed paths twice more over the years, the first not of his volition, but the second fully intentional.
The fourth time Edward Elric stood in Truth’s domain, he had begged for his brother’s life and offered something that had become so irreversibly intertwined with his soul that to take away would be to leave Edward half the man that stood before him.
Truth had not liked the prospect of it. Edward was everything that made alchemy as perfect as it was, and to rip it from him would be a crime. Edward deserved Truth’s alchemy in a way that no other human ever had.
Instead, Truth had freed Alphonse and shoved Edward through a different gate – one that led to Earth – to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Hohenheim had given up looking for a way back, but Truth had no doubt Edward Elric was capable of far more than his slave of a father.
“We’ll be meeting again, little alchemist,” he spoke to the vast expanse of white. “One way or another.”