Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or HP.
~Section Divider~
It was a Monday morning, and Edward grimaced as he reluctantly left the warm confines of his bed and headed downstairs. Milk day. He didn't see why his wife would have a subscription, but she did. Every Monday the former alchemist could expect to open the door and see the half-dozen soda lime glass bottles waiting patiently before him.
Creepy, that's what it was. No matter how early he woke up, they seemed to be there. Waiting for him.
Ed was sure that this was all a nefarious plan on the part of the cows that produced the vile liquid; infiltrate the enemy's fortress and poison him. They had enlisted the aid of his wife along with his brother and sister-in-law whenever they dropped by to visit, this he knew. He would just be minding his business when all of a sudden they snuck an attack on him, forcing a bottle to his lips and forcing him to drink the disgusting beverage!
However, this Monday morning was different. Looking down as he opened the door, scowling, at the porch, he saw that the bottles had been toppled over and broken, their contents spilled across the surface. Oh great, some of those mangy strays that Al had brought to Risembool on the way back from Xing and hid under the porch were lapping it up. Now that his brother was back in Xing maybe he could finally hire that pest exterminator whose services he had desired . . .
This train of thought was broken off when he saw the actual cause of his greatest foes' early demise: a wicker basket with a bundle of blankets that shifted so slightly that, to the untrained eye, the movements could be undetectable, and made soft noises. A note was attached to the handle of the basket, and he bent down, snapping it off to read. He narrowed his eyes at the script, which was written in calligraphy that, while pretty to look at, was impractical when it came to easy reading. Fortunately it was little more than a few words:
'The baby's name is Tom.'
Huh, Tom. Not the worst name, but Ed would choose something cooler, like . . . Maximus Power, or Max Power for short! Wait, that was two names. Ah well, 'Power' could be his middle name. The young man paused, realizing that he was digressing in his thoughts, and then reread the five words as something just hit home.
'The baby's name is Tom.'
Oh, hell no!
Ed's worst fears were confirmed as he tentatively bent down once more, this time moving aside a few folds of the pleasantly soft blankets. Sure enough, an infant was revealed.
He frowned and decided to investigate further, slipping the sleeping babe out of the basket. If it looked anything like his parents and if he knew them the maybe he could force them to take him back. Probably the result of a teenage romp in the hay, the likes of which were rather common in Risembool. Or it might even be one of Roy's surely bastard children from a one-night stand that he probably would think it hilarious to hoist off to him. Knowing Roy, he would name a son of his something as tastelessly simple as 'Tom'. After all, the Flame Alchemist himself had only a three-letter first name, and even his alchemist title was generic and only a syllable long.
Ah, digressing again.
The ex-alchemist took a further look at the baby, and his eyebrows rose as he took in a most unique facial feature: the lack of a nose, which appeared to be replaced by two serpentine slits. It was actually pretty cool in a revolting way. Seeing that he, Tom, still appeared to be asleep, Edward repositioned the noseless baby so that it was cradled in the nook of an elbow, using the hand that wasn't supporting the infant's head to pull up one of his eyelids. Awesome! His eyes were red with slit-pupils and looked totally creepy! Ed wondered if it was a chimera, but then shrugged. All he knew was that he had a freakish baby that looked like a demon on his hands and he so couldn't wait to show Winry!
Besides, this kid was surely good; after all, it had knocked down those milk bottles! Sure, it was probably the person that set it there, but it was because of the baby that they were only harmless shards of broken glass littered before his front door instead of evil intact milk! Ha, take that Winry and your fellow legionnaires of white liquid doom!
Humming a tune in a satisfied manner, Ed turned to enter his humble abode with a new mouth in tow, calling for Winry as he slammed the door shut behind him with a foot.
~Section Divider~
"Funny, Tom, how you would end up in a new home the same way Harry did." The Truth chuckled to itself, knowing that the balancing of many things was going to be started soon.
~Section Divider~
OMAKE (is not actually a part of the storyline):
Winry, still clad in her nightwear, stepped onto the porch to collect the milk, since her husband had obtusely forgotten to do so. Her peaceful morning was interrupted however as something stabbed into her foot and she yowled, stumbling against the doorjamb clutching her foot, to see that several shards of glass had been driven into her sole.
Hissing in pain, she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, until the pain subsided in intensity enough that she could gather her surroundings. Her face reddened to a beet shade as she saw the broken bottles of this week's milk delivery, fragments of which were jammed into her foot.
"Oh no he didn't, he finally went off the deep end in this ridiculous paranoia of his!" He screamed to the heavens like a demon whose ire was invoked.
~Section Divider~
Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this. That is my only excuse. But this story does have an actual plot to it, worry not. This actually wasn't the FMA/HP story I was planning, but I fell in love with the idea when I imagined Ed examining a baby Voldemort and being taken with his ebil ( yes, that was purposefully misspelled, I assure you) features, taking into mind the artistic motifs he utilizes in his alchemy.