DISCLAIMER: I do not own either Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. This is for entertainment purposes only.
Harry Potter would be what you would call your average boy. Short, messy black hair that refused to be tamed, glasses too large for his face that had to be held together by tape perched on his nose, and piercing mossy green eyes.
Most would look past him, assuming him to be happy and cared for. To be a lousy, snot-nosed brat who stuck his nose into other people's business, always getting what he wanted and expecting to never be told no. Others could see past that, though. Others could spot the way his clothes were too large over his small frame, the way he nervously would tap his fingers against his leg as his eyes would search around the area like he was planning an escape route if needed, the way he would automatically revert into a, 'do not speak unless spoken to,' mode. Harry Potter was not your typical boy. He just looked that way.
You see, Harry was an orphan. His parents had died when he was just a babe in a car accident (as far as he was told). His aunt and uncle had taken him in, through the love in the hearts as they'd say. His life as long as he'd known it had been filled with his aunt's screaming, his uncle's disapproving scowl and Dudley's (their ugly offspring) taunts. He'd grown accustomed to it more quickly than a child should have; keep your head down, never provoke them, tell them what they want, do what they say, they're always right, rinse and repeat. He'd sleep in a tiny space under the stairs with the spiders (who were much more desirable company in his opinion), and wake up to his aunt shrieking at him. He'd cook their breakfast while he got scraps, walk to school, do enough work so he could pass but not look like he was overachieving, go home on an empty stomach, do his chores, cook their dinner (of which he was fed merely scraps again), and be thrown back into the cupboard. His life was a meaningless, repetitive abyss that he felt he could never escape.
The day had started out as any other. It was the summer, so Harry didn't have to go to school, but that also meant he was stuck doing chores most of the day. Today, however, his so called family were going into town for a fun little outing, of which they told Harry that he was below going. They had tossed him out of the house, refusing to let him taint or destroy the place (not that he would) while they were gone. When he had meekly asked what he was supposed to do while they were gone, his uncle had merely spit, "Occupy yourself, I don't care how. Just don't have the neighbours see you."
So Harry found himself stuffed away in his safe-haven, the library. Many a times he had sought sanctuary in the building of books and wisdom when he had been chased by Dudley's gang. They refused to step foot in the place, so when Harry found the time he would seek refuge among the words in the pages of books, immersing himself in the worlds they created. For those small moments, Harry could imagine he wasn't an orphan, wasn't a slave to the Dursley's or a freak as everyone believed him to be.
The library had been a bigger home than Privet Drive ever had.
Harry had taken up residence in a corner of the large library. The librarian had been so used to seeing the little boy, she had smiled and told him to take up the small secluded area for himself. The smile he had given her that day had been truly genuine, and even now as his eyes scanned the complicated words for a 7 year old such as himself, his chest fluttered thinking about the kind librarian.
"Hey, kid, might wanna be careful or someone might trip on all these books."
Startled, Harry dropped the book he had been reading, eyes darting up to the man standing in front of him. The man raised an eyebrow at his panicked state, and Harry was mesmerized to see the golden eyes that stared back at him. It took him a few seconds to realize the man expected an answer. "Ah, sorry sir. I'll move these out of the way, sir," Harry quickly stuttered, ducking his head to avoid his gaze as he quickly gathered his books around them in a neat pile. After a few seconds of panicked shuffling on Harry's part, the man squatted down to place his own books on the floor to begin helping gather the ones that belonged to him. Harry watched curiously, but when the blond haired man shot him a grin he quickly went back to grab the heavy books.
"So, what's a kid like you doing in the back of a library reading over advanced books?" the man asked curiously, glancing at the book in his hand. Harry eyed him hesitantly, but when the man continued waiting for an answer, he obliges him.
"I like the library. It's quiet," he replies shyly, still refusing to meet his eyes. When the man gestures to the book in his hand, he clenches the one in his own tighter. "I like learning." He remembered when he got his first report card. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been absolutely livid with him when they learned he was learning above all his class. His teacher had even recommended he skip a grade so he could learn with kids at the same level as him. He missed two days. When he had come back he begun to get lower than average marks. He refused to take off his over-sized shirt that week despite the heat.
Would this man get mad too?
The man seemed to brighten at Harry's answer, confusingly. "These are pretty advanced for your age," the man smirked, turning the book around in his hand.
Harry shrugged. "I like learning new things, and I learned everything else already, so..." His eyes caught the books that had been placed on the floor, eyes brightening. "Is that science?" he asked.
Skeptical, the man handed Harry the book, watching as he flipped it open and soaked it all in. "It is. Though I'm surprized you can understand it."
Smiling bashfully, Harry whispered, "I like to look at the older year's books. I like science the most." Harry stopped himself in horror, realizing in his excitement he probably said something he shouldn't have. He was already revealing way too much. People were supposed to think he was dumb, not reading advanced chemistry books!
Instead, the man seemed to brighten further. "Seems like you're a little prodigy," he snickered.
Harry flushed as he ducked his head. "Not really," he mumbled , hoping beyond anything that the man would become disinterested and leave before Harry let something slip and it found it's way back to the Dursley's. He could already imagine the pain he would receive.
"Tell 'ya what kid," the man said, changing his position from squatting to leaning against the bookshelf. Harry watched him warily as he handed him another book with a smile, wondering what he was up to. It was also at this time where Harry finally took note of the man's accent. While it was mostly English there was a small hint of... German mixed in? "I don't like being bothered as I'm working. If you let me share this space with you I'll let you read those books." Letting his grin stretch wider, he added, "Equivalent exchange." Harry wasn't used to be offered a choice. Most times, he had been ordered and demanded to do something usually out of his favour for the pleasure of someone else. To actually be offered a choice that also benefitted him was a little discerning, but... He really wanted to read those books...
Nodding his head slowly, he gingerly accepted the book from his hands. "Thank you, sir," he whispered in gratitude, looking at the book in wonder at the new possibilities he could learn from it.
The man snorted. "Please no sir crap. Makes me sound old," he said, winkling his nose. Holding out a hand, he grinned warmly at Harry. "If you need to call me anything, call me Edward, or Ed." Harry eyed the offered hand warily, then the smile that the ma-... Edward gave him. Most adults would brush him aside, even going as far as to sneer at him if he found himself in their way. Edward, though... He was different. He was kind. In the first few minutes he had known Harry, he hadn't belittled him or expected him to bow to his every beck and call.
Accepting Edward's offered hand, he gently shook it. "Harry," he whispered.
"Well, Harry, looks like you've got yourself a partner in crime," Edward chuckled, ruffling Harry's already messy hair before grabbing his notes and books to begin looking over them. Though Harry was quite intellectual, most of what was written there flew over his head.
Though Edward had already been immersed in his own world, Harry was startled and couldn't focus on the words he was reading. His mind kept wandering to the grins Edward had given him, and the touch of his hand on his head. He wasn't used to physical contact with people, and to be honest he had flinched slightly when Edward had done it. Afterwards, though, when he began to dwell on it, he realized the touch had been... Nice. Comforting. He can't remember a time when someone had touched him so gently or kind.
Finally, he shook it off and focussed on the book in his hands. It was fascinating, much better than the books from the older grades. He could definitely get used to this new arrangement.
"Hey, Ed? What's this science called? It's kind of like chemistry, but it's a little different."
Edward stopped his writing as he turned to Harry, the boy frowning at what he was reading. It had been a month into Harry's summer break since they first met, and he had thoroughly surprized Edward with his knowledge and thirst for learning. Harry had often kept him on his toes with his questions and inquires, and Edward found the new outlook to be refreshing from most other's he had witnessed or overheard. Harry wasn't interested for power or to fill his ego, he simply wanted to understand how the world worked around him.
"Well, Harry," Edward began, smiling at the intrigued boy. "That's alchemy."
"Alchemy?" Harry repeated, scrunching his nose. "Isn't that the science of... Deconstructing matter then reconstructing it into something similar?" At Edward's smile of appraisal he ducked his head, still not quite used to praise.
Nodding, Edward continued, "You're quite close. The most well regarded definition of it is that it's the science of manipulating base matter to alter it into something else. Here," placing a piece of paper between them, he drew numbers from one to three. "There's three simple steps in alchemy. The first one begins with comprehension," he drew a simple circle beside the first number. "So let's pretend this circle represents the molecular makeup of a particular material. Comprehension begins with understanding what makes up the matter you are identifying with, including the amount you can work with, the kinetic energy it has and so forth." Harry watched with apt attention and fascination to Edward's explanation, nodding when he started his next drawing. "Next step is deconstruction. You break down the physical structure of the material to a more malleable one so you can reshape it into another form." His final drawing next to the three was a square. "Final step is reconstruction, where you've rerouted the energy you used for deconstruction so you're left with a new physical form of the matter you started with." Snorting at his less than ideal examples, he added, "While my drawings aren't exactly doing it justice, it's the best explanation I can give 'ya."
Harry was smiling large in excitement, eyes shining in interest. He hung onto every word that left Edward's mouth and thought carefully of what they meant, furrowing his eyebrows in contemplation. He took a few seconds after Edward spoke to carefully think, before asking, "Can you teach me?"
Edward thought it over; though Harry was not aware, Edward was the only other person in the world that was knowledgeable of alchemy, for it had not originated here. How were people supposed to learn it if it had not been born? Alchemy was a dangerous art, and in the wrong hands could wreak destruction and chaos, so Edward kept it safely guarded. Could he trust Harry to use it safely and not wrongly?
"On one condition," Edward finally spoke, gaining Harry's full attention. "I'll give you this riddle, and if you solve it and understand its meaning, I'll teach you."
Harry hummed, nodding. "I'll do it."
Edward grinned at Harry's enthusiasm, ruffling his hair. "That's the spirit. Now, here's your riddle," he cleared his throat, looking Harry in the eyes. "All is one, and one is all." Harry blanched. All is one and one is all? What the heck was that supposed to mean? How was he supposed to figure it out with something as vague and simplistic as that?
"Not sure I understand what it means yet, Ed," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I'll try my best to figure it out." Edward nodded, going back to his writing and letting Harry begin brainstorming what it meant in silence.
AN: So to be completely honest I have no idea where this idea came from. All I know is I was craving some Edward and young Harry bonding and I guess this was born.
This will feature Harry learning alchemy (as you've probably inferred already). He will go to Hogwarts, but don't expect him to be all entranced by magic. This is mainly an alchemist Harry story, and as a scientist magic confuses him greatly.
Will other FMA characters appear? I will say they most likely will, but I won't reveal who yet.
That's all for now, hope you enjoyed!