Disclaimer: in all honesty FMA is not mine in any way, shape or form. With the minor exception of the obsessive collection of merchandise that i have. Harry Potter does not belong to me either, also excepting my frightening collection of HP books of multiple covers. Thank you.
Note: I claim poetic license, so anyone who has a beef with anything that I've written, left out or got wrong, I'm not really going to care much. This story is done and I'm not in the habit of reposting reedited fics. Flames with be summarily ignored.
Note 2: this story is outdated by about 6 or 8 months now. It's been sitting on my conputer waiting for me to edit it. I finally got around to it! Be proud!! I admit that it's not my best, but it's also far from my worst!
That Blood-red Stone
Sessha-chan
It brings joy in sorrow,
victory in battle,
light to the darkness,
life to the dead…
That is the power of the
blood-red jewel which men honor with the name
"The Philosopher's Stone"
FMA Vol 3 Ch2. p.86
Chapter 1Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, looked down at the report on his desk and bit back a laugh. Oh, the runt would love this, he thought with a smirk.
"Colonel?" First Lieutenant Hawkeye asked, drawing his attention away from the report, "What is it?"
"Get me Fullmetal. I have something that I think will interest him," he smirked over his interlaced fingers, his eyes half lidded.
"What is it?" Edward Elric asked, flopping heavily and rather haphazardly into a chair before his commanding officer's desk.
"Hello to you too, Fullmetal," Colonel Mustang greeted sarcastically. "Thank you for coming on such… short… notice,"
Ed twitched. "Cut the crap, Colonel," he snapped.
Colonel Mustang tossed him a folder. Ed caught it expertly. "This is a report I got a week ago. Apparently there is someone who knows how to make a Philosopher's Stone. And he runs a school,"
"You're kidding me," Ed sounded rightfully disbelieving. He flipped open the report and scanned the contents. "Magic? What a load of crock,"
"Nevertheless my informants are never wrong,"
"So this is the real deal?" the blond alchemist gestured to the file he held in his gloved automail hand.
"As real as the fact that I will be Fuhrer," Mustang said confidently. Ed snorted.
"Great. Guess I'm going to-" he checked the file for the name of the country, "Britain. Any idea how to get there, Colonel?"
He was tossed two more folders. "Those contain your travel itinerary and mission outline. Stick to both, Fullmetal," Mustang said seriously, "or else I might not get my promotion,"
Ed rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Guess I'll go tell Al," he said, standing to leave.
"Wait," Mustang stopped him before he could leave, "I was only able to arrange for you to go. Besides, Alphonse would be too conspicuous,"
Ed fixed his commanding officer with a cold stare, "What?"
"Al stays here," Mustang repeated firmly.
"Why?"
"Because he would be too conspicuous, as I have already said. And I am not sure that the rune binding his soul would be able to remain in tact while at the school,"
This made Ed pause in his fury. The Colonel had hit his weakness right on the head. "Fine," he conceded grudgingly, "But I'm going to tell him all about this,"
"Of course," Mustang nodded, "just be ready to catch the train to the coast on time. It took a lot of trouble to put together that itinerary, so don't mess it up,"
"Colonel," Ed looked back at him, suddenly suspicious, "you didn't happen to put this together, did you?"
"No. Hawkeye did it,"
"Thank goodness. Who knows what you would have done,"
Roy Mustang smirked at his diminutive subordinate's back as the Fullmetal Alchemist swung the door closed behind him. He could not wait to hear what Edward would do to the Magic School. Life was getting to be too boring around here anyways.
After a month of travel filled with trains, ships, more trains and an odd automobile of a make he had never seen before, Edward found himself sitting on yet another train. This one was scarlet, a close match to his coat actually.
Yawning, Edward stretched out his legs, scratching an itch he had just above the automail of his left leg. He had practically bought out the bookstore that he had purchased his school texts at when he realized the fountain of foreign knowledge contained within its walls. It was a good thing he could carry a lot of weight since the size (and mass) of his luggage had multiplied more than ten times over.
He laughed evilly and pulled out one of the required texts: A Complete Guide to Transfiguration, and began reading. He had only managed to memorize half a chapter before the door to his compartment clattered open.
"Hello," said a young girl with bushy brown hair, "do you mind if we join you?" she asked. Ed shrugged and moved over to make room for the girl and her two friends. He hardly looked up from the book.
"Trust you, Hermione, to find another bookworm," commented the redhead ironically.
"What's your name? I haven't seen you around before," Hermione asked. Ed looked up from his book, blinking his gold eyes, allowing them time to refocus on the three unfamiliar faces.
"Edward Elric," he said. None of them showed any recognition. Backwater.
Hermione smiled, "My name is Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," Ed nodded to each in turn, not batting an eye.
"Are you a first year?" Ron asked. Ed snapped his book shut and glared tangible death at the boy.
"DO I LOOK LIKE A KID TO YOU?" he yelled, startling all three of them, "YOU MAKING A JOKE ABOUT MY SIZE? HUH? ARE YOU?" he clapped his hands together and in a flask of blue alchemic lightning his automail arm suddenly had a nifty blade attachment that shredded his white glove, revealing the cold steel, "YOU WANNA GO?"
"Holy crap!" Ron exclaimed, backpedaling quickly, holding up his hands defensively. Hermione retreated with him but Harry pulled his wand and stepped forward, between his friends and the irate alchemist.
"Calm down," he said firmly. Ed transferred his burning golden gaze to the Boy Who Lived. "It was only a question,"
Suddenly remembering the Colonel's warning, Ed twitched – most likely from having remembered even having to deal with Mustang at all – and stepped back, lowering his arm. He returned his arm back to normal and sat down to sullenly read his book. "Great," he muttered, "there goes another pair of gloves,"
"Blimey," Ron gasped, "What was that all about?"
Ed rummaged around in his coat pocket and pulled out a new glove. With an unpracticed and completely natural nonchalance he pulled the pristine white material over his steel fingers, covering the hand entirely.
"What's your problem," Ron demanded, just a little red in the face. Ed looked up.
"Don't make any cracks about my height and we'll get along just fine," was all he said.
"Touchy," the redhead muttered.
"What's wrong with your hand?" Hermione asked, half afraid that the strange boy would attack again. He did not.
"Nothing's wrong with it," Ed said, looking up, a passive expression on his face, "Winry just updated it before I left home. If anything was wrong with it already she'd have my head for breaking it again,"
Hermione looked confused, but not nearly as confused as Harry and Ron.
"Who's Winry?" she asked.
"My mechanic,"
"Mechanic?" Ron asked, "What's that?"
"Oh really Ron," Hermione sighed patiently as Ed shot him an incredulous look, "A mechanic is someone who fixes machines,"
"So it's a muggle thing?"
"Yeah, Ron, it is," Harry said wryly, amused at his friend's lack of knowledge.
"So why would you have a mechanic for your hand?" Harry asked.
Ed scowled. "Because I lost my entire arm when I was eleven,"
"Oh." Hermione paled. So did Ron and Harry for that matter.
"How'd you manage that?" Harry asked.
Now Ed looked down at his hands, "It was during a civil war. I was trying to save my younger brother," he lied with practiced ease.
"Oh." Now the compartment was filled with an uneasy silence. Ed picked up his book again and continued reading, intent on catching up as much as he could.
Ed closed the textbook and frowned darkly at its cover. Transfiguration was the one subject that was closest to the Alchemy he knew and practiced, with one glaring difference.
"What a load of crock," he scowled, putting it down on the seat beside him.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
Ed gestured to the book, "This transfiguration business is a load of unequal, impossible crock,"
"How so?" Hermione frowned, confused.
"It breaks all the laws. It completely disregards the laws of providence and the law of equivalent exchange. By all rights just practicing it should be enough to kill you. Slowly. There has got to be something I'm missing, but none of the books I've read even hint at how they bypass the laws," he said, thoughtfully tapping a cloth-covered metal finger on the leather cover of the transfiguration text.
"Laws? What do you mean?" she asked. Harry and Ron parroted the question as well.
"'Man cannot obtain anything without first giving something in return.' That is the Law of Equivalent Exchange. The Law of Providence states that you cannot make anything without the basic elements present," the alchemist frowned, "It's all very scientific. But nothing in this book should be at all possible without some sort of method of evening out the exchange..." he trailed off, muttering under his breath as he snatched up some of the other texts he had lying next to him. He flipped rapidly through the pages of one, dark gold eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper as he went. He plowed through three more heavy tomes with the same exactness. Nothing.
"What are you looking for?" Harry asked curiously.
"An explanation." Ed thumbed though another text. "Darn, this isn't helping. This school better have a good library,"
"Hogwarts has the best library in the entire Wizarding World," Hermione boasted.
Ed eyed her patiently, "Wizarding World?" he asked slowly, "it's in a separate plane than the rest of the world?"
"Well, no," she blinked, "Wizards and witches just tend to live apart from normal people,"
"Why? Isn't that a little prejudiced?"
"What do you mean?" both Harry and Ron had their attention fixated on the Amestrian and Hermione.
"Well, aren't you guys kinda like segregating yourself away from normal people just because you have a power that they don't?"
"But if they found out about us then they'd want magic to fix all their problems!"
"How do you know that?"
Hermione looked at loss for words. "It... it stands to reason. It's logical..."
"And since when were people logical?"
"But-"
"Give it up Hermione," Harry advised, "I think you've lost this one,"
Hermione huffed and glared out the window at the fields and occasional sheep. Ron and Harry exchanged an amused glance. Ed just picked up another book. He grinned to himself.
"So, where you from, mate?" Ron asked.
"Why?" Ed did not even look up and turned another page.
"Just asking," Ron frowned. Ed picked up a folder and flipped through the pages that were paper-clipped inside. His eyes lingered on one paragraph and he shrugged.
"Sorry, you wouldn't know the place," he said instead, putting the folder down again and returning to his books.
"Try us," Hermione challenged.
Ed looked up and smirked. His orders were to not tell anyone other than the headmaster of the school about Amestris and his mission. A child could see the loophole. "Born and raised in a village called Resembool. It's out in the boonies of nowhere and if Winry wasn't the best mechanic I know I'd never go back, it's that boring,"
"Don't you have family there?" Ron pressed.
Ed's movements slowed and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Al can take care of himself," he said at length.
"What about your parents?"
Ed closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. His life was none of their business and he had no reason to spill anything more. Nosy brats. He didn't answer to anyone, with the occasional exception for the Colonel. Al was the only person who he would tell everything to and he wasn't here.
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it," Harry ventured after a full minute of silence on Ed's part.
"Why not?" Ron whined, sounding desperately like he wanted to pout.
"It's his business Ron, not ours," Harry shrugged and settled further into the cushioned seat.
For a brief moment, clearly he was more tired than he had originally thought, Ed considered thanking the black-haired boy. He swiftly stomped down that thought. What was the point, after all? When did he, Edward Elric, ever thank anyone when he could get away with just not? He was, after all, master of casual, fly-by courtesy. It just would not so to have his reputation ruined so soon in a new land.
So instead he tossed the useless book aside and picked up another.
Ed refused to allow himself to be interrupted for the remainder of the train ride. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the text in his books, still searching for the clue as to how inequivalent exchange was permitted at all. By the time the train pulled up to the station to let the students off he had waded through every single book he had bought on magic and still had yet to find an answer.
He packed the books back up into their respective suitcases, grumbling under his breath about useless detritus. So many books on how to do magic, the history of magic, magical theory, et cetera, and nothing on the subject he was pursuing. They were chock full of other potentially useful but currently unusable information.
At the moment he was regretting almost cleaning out that book store. The books would be interesting and handy to have around when it came to research but they were heavy. It was times like this when Ed wished – briefly – to have Major Armstrong along for the trip. Muscles like his, or Sig Curtis's for that matter, would have been handy. Of course, the desire was very short lived as he only had to recall the gratuitous amounts of pink sparkles that perpetually surrounded the Strongarm Alchemist before he viciously retracted said desire.
"Do you want help with those?" Harry asked, watching Ed stack hi many suitcases on top of one another.
Ed grunted something inarticulate, not bothering to turn and acknowledge the question. "Get going. I'll be after you soon enough," he said instead.
"You sure, mate?" Ron frowned, "You got a lot'a stuff there,"
"I can handle it," Ed insisted.
"That looks quite heavy,"
"Get going,"
Looking somewhat offended the trio left the alchemist to himself. Ed contemplated his predicament. He was prohibited from using alchemy in the view of these witches and wizards, something that had slipped his mind when Ron made an insinuated pass at his height, but Mustang had said nothing about using alchemy out of view.
Ed lightly clapped his hands together and gripped the edges of the top suitcase. Blue alchemical lightning raced from his hands to the luggage, reshaping, redefining. Soon, not a second later, every suitcase was securely attached to the next and the whole affair was resting on a set of wheels with a handle just waiting for its maker to use.
With a contented grin Ed gripped the handle and wheeled his luggage out of the compartment behind him. It was heavy, probably almost one hundred pounds, but to Ed, who was used to worse, the weight was merely an inconvenience. Al clocked in more and Ed could throw him... occasionally.
He manged to make his way through the throng of children all busy trying to disembark and staggered out into the dimming light of the dying day. He wheeled his suitcases behind him, trying to figure out where he was supposed to be going when he was approached by an upperclassman.
"You going to Hogwarts, young man?" the boy asked. Ed nodded. "The you don't need to take that with you. They'll bring it up to the castle later, you know,"
"Really?" Ed drawled slowly.
"Oh yes," the boy gestured around them, "You don't see anyone else with their trunks, do you?"
Ed looked around, taking note of the suitcaseless students milling about. He shrugged. Whatever. He wasn't going to leave his stuff in the hands of someone else. He thanked the student and turned away, intent on following everyone else to the school for magic. The boy called after him but Ed only waved a negligent hand over his shoulder.
It wasn't to difficult to figure out where to go next. Everyone seemed to be filtering towards a slew of ragged carriages pulled by...
Ed blanched.
What in the world were those? And what were the creatures driving them? The skeletal horses and decaying coachmen turned empty eyes on the students, observing them passively. None of the students gave them any notice. It was almost as if they could not see the grotesque creatures.
With great trepidation he approached a carriage and, discreetly using some alchemy, got his luggage onto the top of the carriage. He stilled when the driver turned to look at him but Ed only nodded hesitantly, unsure what he should do in this situation. The driver slowly nodded back before turning its attention back to the horse-creatures in its charge. Ed released the breath he had been holding. His heart beating rapidly he climbed into the coach and tried to settle down on the musty smelling seat.
"Who are you?" demanded a snotty sounding voice across from him.
Ed cracked open a golden eye and took in his traveling companions. The boy who spoke to him with such attitude was a shade of blond that bordered on silver. Flanking him, dwarfing him, were two brawny thugs who looked stupid enough that they wouldn't be able to uncross their eyes if they had instructions. None of them looked particularly pleasant.
"What's it to you?" Ed sniffed in disdain.
The aristocratic blond sneered and his bodyguards growled. "You better watch yourself here if you want to stay in one piece. Hogwarts isn't a place for mudbloods and muggle-lovers. If you're either you'd better watch your back."
While Ed had no idea what the boy was even talking about he could hear the disgust and hatred clear as one of Winry's rants. He just eyed the boys before pointedly folding his arms across his chest and closing his eyes, ignoring them. He could almost hear the platinum blond boy seething at the obvious snub. Well, he had nothing else to do at the moment. He might as well tick off the local hothead. It might even prove to be entertaining.
At length the boy spoke again. "You have no idea who you are playing with, do you?"
Ed cracked open an eye, "Do I look like I care?"
"You should."
"I don't." he closed his eye and slouched further into the musty seat. "Besides," he continued, "little boys shouldn't pick fights they don't have a hope winning,"
"Look who's talking,"
Ed's eyebrow twitched imperceptibly. He held onto his temper with will that outmatched his automail strength.
Remember your mission. Don't blow the mission. Remember the mission. Don't blow it! The mission! The Stone!! Don't blow it!
He grit his teeth and forcibly relaxed his muscles. He tugged absently at the glove covering his automail hand, reassuring himself that the cloth of both the glove and his coat sleeve obscured the unnatural metal limb. He futilely scratched at a phantom itch on his automail knee. He cracked open his eyes to shoot a ineffectual glare at the limb. With the air of someone vastly irritated he flicked his flesh fingers over the cloth, briskly getting rid of the wrinkles.
"Mustang had better be right about this place," he muttered, barely audible even to his ears.
Ed was delighted when the carriage ride came to a conclusion. At last he was able to get out of the oppressing company of his traveling companions. It wasn't even a problem getting his luggage down from the roof. He nodded again to the driver of the coach before starting up the stairs to the grand entrance.
By the time he was half way up Ed was ready and willing to transmute a nice easy ramp. At three-quarters he was unrepentantly wishing for Armstrong. By the time he reached the top he would have leaned against the suitcases if he had not wanted to make an striking first impression. So instead of giving in to exhaustion Ed strode forward.
At the door, smiling at all the arriving students, was an ancient man in... interesting robes. Stars glittered on deep navy and the trailing sleeves were trimmed with scarlet. His snowy beard fell down his front in an icy waterfall. Behind half-moon glasses his eyes twinkled merrily.
Ed didn't trust him.
"Good evening," the old man greeted, "I believe you wish to speak with me," it was a statement rather than a question.
"Who're you?" Ed asked casually.
"May name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, I am headmaster of this school," Dumbledore inclined his head a fraction.
"So you're the guy in charge?" Ed sized him up critically, "Edward Elric. Nice to meet you. And you're right. We do need to talk,"
"Why don't we do so in my office,"
"Sounds like a plan to me. Lead the way,"
Dumbledore smiled at the short alchemist. "First why don't we do something about your luggage. Leave it here and I will have it taken care of for you,"
Edward blinked and complied, releasing his grip on his possessions. "Alright then," he agreed.
"Good, now let us be on our way. I sense that we have much to discuss and the opening feast will commence shortly." the headmaster swept away into the castle. Ed trotted along behind obediently, warily taking note of everything that went on around him, from moving staircases to live portraits. By the time they reached Dumbledore's office, behind the statue of a griffin that leaped aside to 'Canary Creams,' Ed was feeling no little bit paranoid.
"How is it that you have so many souls bound here, old man?" Ed demanded when Dumbledore took his seat behind a cluttered desk.
"There are no souls bound in Hogwarts. We do have ghosts, but I assure you that they are free to come and go as they will. What you saw in the portraits was merely one aspect of our magic. Take a seat, Mr. Elric," he gestured to a chair opposite him. Ed gingerly sat. Golden tiger-like eyes locked defiantly with twinkling blue. "Now, would you like to explain why you have come to my school?"
Ed considered. He had memorized his mission information on the journey here, having nothing else to do for quite a while. Mustang had left this part of information dispensing at his discretion. It was his choice what he told his headmaster. At last the prodigy alchemist spoke.
"My name is Edward Elric. I am a State Alchemist in the Amestris army and am generally known as the Fullmetal Alchemist. My commanding officer sent me here after a lead he found on the Philosopher's Stone. My brother and I have been looking for it for four years now. Mustang's information says that people here knew how to make a stone and had in fact made one," he said matter-of-factly.
Dumbledore regarded Ed from over interlaced fingers. His face had gone from merry to thoughtful the moment Ed had mentioned the stone. "You seek the Philosopher's Stone?"
Ed nodded confidently.
"Why would you seek such an object?"
Even though he had known the question might come up Ed still winced. He steeled himself against his emotions, those crippling memories. "I have to atone for what I did. The Stone is the only way to use alchemy and bypass the Laws,"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely waited for Ed to continue.
"We, my brother and I, ignored the first taboo of alchemy. We foolishly thought that we had everything we needed for the transmutation. We had researched everything we could, even going over our father's work. But we paid for our pride." a hand tightened over his metal knee. "The Gate of Truth demanded payment from us. I lost my leg in payment. Al... Al lost his entire body. I paid with my arm to bind his soul to this world so we could rectify our mistake. That is why we need the Philosopher's Stone. Even if I have to die trying I will get Al's body back to him," he closed his eyes and looked away, trying to regain his composure.
"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. "This is grave indeed. You have traveled far, Mr. Elric, to chase a rumor. It is probably fortunate that you have run into one of the few people that has actually created a stone."
Ed looked up sharply. "You have a Stone?"
"No," the headmaster smiled ruefully, "It was destroyed only a few years back. But I still have all of my notes on how to make one,"
"You do?" for the first time in a long while true hope crept into Edward's burning gold eyes.
"But first we must explain your presence to the faculty and students. They are sure to notice you wandering around the castle, since I would wager that it is rather hard for you to fade into the background,"
Ed blinked at the suddenly amused man. That was a complete misnomer. "Uh, okay. What should we tell them?"
"How skilled are these 'State Alchemists?'"
"Only one passes for every exam issued, if that. We're the best of those who want to join the military," Ed shrugged, "The military only keeps on the best and most cutting edge. I haven't come across many other alchemists that were more skilled than myself or my teacher,"
"Is that so," Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully. "Are there schools for alchemists in Amestris?"
Ed shook his head. "No, not that I've ever heard of. People usually are taught through apprenticeships and their own study. At least, that's how Al and I learned,"
"I see." the headmaster pondered his options, "How would you feel being what is called a 'grad student,' a student who has graduated already and is continuing his education to a higher degree, a researcher if you will? Your presence will be explained away by the excuse of a research paper,"
"That could work," Ed said thoughtfully, mulling it over.
"Then it is settled. I shall have someone escort you to your rooms after the feast. But in the meantime we must be going or else we will be late. And you do not know terror until you have to deal with children denied a meal," he laughed, sweeping to his feet and leading the way back out of the office. Ed hauled himself to his feet and obediently followed.
Once they had reached one of the antechambers adjacent to the Great Hall Dumbledore asked Edward to wait. He explained what went on before a feast, the sorting of the new students, and he wanted to introduce Edward after that event. Ed had no problem with that. After Dumbledore left the small room Ed transmuted himself a comfortable stone chair from the floor. He sat down and started mentally reviewing what he had read.