please read: the fullmetal alchemist characters do speak in amestrian, which will be equivalent to german because I have heard that fma is based on Germany and its military. when it is harry's pov, there are no translations, because it gives the effect that he does not know what they are saying. do not worry, there will be solid communication throughout the entire story. (also be minded that my german is sometimes tacky)
now i have that established, i present the real author's note. hello everyone! i'm royal, and this both my third story and first crossover. i have read many, many stories about how edward and co. get caught up in the harry potter world, but i have not seen one story that includes harry and co. being in the fullmetal alchemist world! alas, i have decided to write one. i really hope that this idea gets some attention~
i know that i really need to update both 'ice hockey' and 'fractured mind, broken soul', but i really wanted to at least get the first chapter/prologue out before the idea left my head. for those who are complaining about the few days i have not updated for, suck it up - at least i haven't been gone for three years like a lot of the fanfiction authors i know!
disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or fullmetal alchemist. isn't that why it's called fanfiction? do i even need to put this in? it's not like anyone reads them, or thinks that i own either show...
first edit: 26/08/2016
second edit: 07/10/2016
i hope you enjoy and please do not hesitate to review,
- royal :D
Mystery Kid
a Fullmetal Alchemist x Harry Potter fanfiction
written by: royalvite.
CHAPTER ZERO
( prologue )
.
"Wo kommot er her?"
"Ich weiß nicht , ich ging in mein Büro und boom! er liegt gerade hier."
"Wie merkwürdig. Ich frage mich, wie die großen Elric reagieren wenn er hier ist."
"Nicht schön, das ist sicher..."
Everything had been plunged underwater. The endless oblivion he floated through was dark and twisted, those incoherent noises tangling within a wash of blurred thoughts and spinning images. Limbs numb from the unforgiving cold, something that felt suspisciously like his wand pressing into his side. Footsteps, barely audible behind the sound of the crashing tide. A door opening and closing, the hinges squeaking.
Something wasn't right, that much was clear - especially those tones. Voices, his aching mind registered slowly. Foreign. Gibberish. Whether it was the fault of his hearing or something more, he wasn't sure.
"Ich denke er kommt runde! Seine lider flackern!"
"Ja..."
A different language. That had to be it. It was the only reason that made sense, though that could be his mind playing games with him. Those voices may be muffled and twisted, but he understood that it just wasn't English tongue. What language were they speaking? Who were they? Where in Hell was he? There were so many questions he wanted to ask. They could have been answered if his eyelids just opened, but nothing responded to him. Even the wash of invading darkness ignored his silent plea for guidance.
Could they hear him? Would they see him move if he managed it?
He tried his hardest to get something working - his mouth, his fingers, his toes, anything at all would do - but his body remained completely motionless. It felt as if he were unconscious but awake at the same time. Or as if he were lost in a coma. Perhaps he was, and his entire life up to now had just been one huge dream as they tried to save him. Maybe they had finally pulled the plug. Was this what death was like? Such a strange feeling, he thought to himself, I don't like it. Why won't I move?
"Er bewegt, Chef! Seine finger zuckten!"
'Finger'. It was heavy with an accent he didn't recognise, but it was a word that sounded remotely close to the English tongue. He tried to move said appendage and it was with an orchestra of enthusiasm that he realized his nerves had obliged and that he could shift his pinky, if only slightly. The blank landscape before him flickered and the weight that had been holding his eyelids down lifted off.
Instictively, he let out a long, awaking groan, and shifted on what seemed to be the ground.
"Ugh..." he moaned, lifting a thankfully-responsive hand and resting it against his eyes. The light that broke the darkness's walls made his head spin faster than a merry-go-round and the icy water blocking his ears drained, making the noises and voices around him suddenly much clearer. Such a jolting change had certainly not come expected and the first onset of dizzy spells hit his brain as he fought against the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.
An accented voice fed his migrane. "Hallo, geheimnis kind!" it greeted in a warm male tone, lightly muffled as if he had something in between his lips.
Startled, Harry Potter's eyes shot open, staring into a blurred heads standing over him. "Ah, shit!" he cursed. "What- where in the- what the Hell?" His vision cleared, and his soft emerald optics met a pair of inquisitive grey eyes, accompained by a friendly, country-boy grin. An unlit cigarette hung between his lips and a birds nest of messy blonde hair fell over his peach-coloured forehead. Who-? "Where am- where am I?! Who the Hell are you?"
But, as soon as he spoke, that warm smile melted into a blank stare. The man lifted his head and looked at someone who was out of sight, speaking in that odd language of his once more. "Er nicht sprechen Amestrian..." he said slowly, then looked down at Harry with a furrow touching his brow. A nagging feeling told the wizard that his brain had stopped at the language barrier. "Tun sie Amestrian sprechen?"
Harry returned the vacant look with one of his own. He was completely mistifed yet intruiged by their language - he had never heard of it before, nor had he ever heard of an accent like theirs. It was rather beautiful, though no one would ever hear him admit it aloud. "I don't know what you're saying," he responded in a hopeful bid to communicate. "Do you know English?
The blonde repeated the world 'English' slowly and carefully, as if testing it on his tongue. "Enklish..." he mumbled, then frowned again. "Nö, nie von welchen- ...Enklish?- mitteln auch immer gehört. Herr?"
Another voice in the room, still speaking in that foreign tongue. "Ich weiß, dass Vottmetall ziemlich viele sprachen von seinen Reisen spricht. Wenn er ankommt, werden wir ihn fragen," it said. The blonde leaning over his blinked before offering him a hand. Harry understood that he was going to help him to his feet immediately, but hesitated before levering himself onto his elbows and ignoring the proposal.
Why should he trust a foreign man anyway?
Now that he wasn't on the ground, Harry was able to see the room around him. It was a place he was uncomfortably unfamiliar with, with white walls, dark green curtains and a dark mahogany floor. The only furniture he could see was a large, imposing desk, with bookshelves upon bookshelves set up on the wall behind it. An office? I've never seen this place before... now I'm truly curious as to my location.
He was clearly not in Hogwarts anymore. At first he thought that he could maybe be in someone's house, but one look at the blonde man's outfit told him that he was probably in some sort of militaristic headquarters. A navy blue jacket and matching loose trousers, with the ends tucked into a pair of thick black boots. On his shoulder was a gold strip, decorated with a single star. Second Lieutenant, he thought, recognizing the symbol from a muggle textbook he had read once.
Just then, his eyes turned to another figure in the room. He was tall (even more so from the floor), with messy dark hair and a pair of suspicious black eyes. There was something unsettling about the ice lacing his gaze and Harry was quick to look away, but not without noticing minor details. He wore the same outfit as the blonde, except for a pair of strange tattooed gloves, but the strip on his shoulder told Harry that this man was a Colonel. Huh. So he was in a military headquarters!
"Hallo!" the blonde exclaimed brightly, removing his cigar and tapping loose ash onto the floor. The Colonel growled something incoherent to him in that foreign language of theirs and Harry guessed that he was a little pissed about having ash on the groundd.
Harry based his translation from the sound of the word and gave an anxious wave. "Hello..." he greeted awkwardly.
For a moment, the blonde and the dark-haired man frowned, then the latter straighted his posture and proudly stated, "sie sprechen Englisch, richtig?" He rubbed his gloved thumb and index finger together and squinted down at Harry. Usually, the wizard would have looked past such a pressing glare, but it reminded him too much of Snape at that moment. Creepy. "Aufstehen. Jetzt."
Again, Harry had no idea what they were talking about. Did they not know that he couldn't understand their God forsaken language, or were they just plain stupid? In order to communicate his confusion towards them, Harry gave the man a blank stare and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
The door behind him hit the wall as it slammed open, interrupting the blonde before he had a chance to even speak. Everyone jolted at the sudden noise, with exception to the dark-haired Colonel, who just grinned with a sort of cocky aura. "Hallo, Vollmetall. Bevor sie in ihrem bericht geben, benötigen wir ihre hilfe," he said, then motioned toward Harry.
Harry's green eyes rested upon a new face; a short teenager who looked to be about twelve or so, with long blonde hair that reached his middle back in a loose plait. His bangs cupped his face and a lively antenne stuck up as if it defied the laws of gravity, adding a few inches to his miniscule height. Instead of a military uniform, he was donned in a long red cloak, with completely black attire underneath. There were white gloves covering his hands like that of the Colonel's, minus the strangely familiar tattooes.
So young.
But what startled him the most wasn't his young age, no; it was with a jolt of fear that he realized the boy just had to be a werewolf. Who else would have such clear golden eyes if they weren't, after all? They were practically burning like molten lava with the fiendish glower of a supernatural creature. It wasn't just unsettling, but one could have called it frightening if they had gone through the same experience Harry had with werewolves.
Automatically tensing, Harry touched the wand tucked under his jacket.
"Warum gibt es ein kind auf dem boden?" the youth asked, raising an eyebrow. "Und warum brauchen sie meine hilfe mit ihm?"
The Colonel hesitated before responding. All Harry could do was sit and stare, continuing to puzzle over what they were saying. When - if - he eventually got back to Hogwarts, he needed to ask Dumbledore about this place.
"Er war einfach da, wenn ich an diesem morgen ging, bewusstlos. Er nur wachte nur ein paar minuten, bevor sie in platzte. Wir können seine sprache nicht verstehen, und wir glauben nicht, dass er uns verstehen können," the Colonel stated seriously. The smaller blonde pursed his lips and gazed at Harry through lens of startling gold.
"Oh."
In a weak attempt to communicate, Harry said, "where am I?"
The blonde kid raised an eyebrow, and he turned to the Colonel. "Ich glaube, ich weiß, welche sprache er spricht. Ich kann es sprechen, obwohl mein vokabular begrenzt ist," he said, talking in that gibberish faster than before, as if excited by Harry's speech.
Harry's desperation meter was on the brink of cracking as he watched the foriegners converse as if he didn't exist. "Can you understand me?" he asked loudly, trying to make it easier for him to translate if possible. The sooner he got solid communication, the sooner he could finally figure out where he was and go home.
At first, he thought no one was going to respond. When they did, it was with great surprise that it had been the kid that spoke in words that he could understand. "I can, but I limited vhen it comez to zpeakink," he said slowly, carefully.
Harry's heart exploded in glee - someone he could talk to and understand! Finally! "Where am I?" he asked immediately.
"Vuu in Zentral Headquarterz," the boy responded in broken English, "my name iz Major Evward Elric, vhat yourz?" He looked as if he were really trying hard to get his English right and Harry couldn't help but congratulate him for his efforts. For someone so young, he certainly spoke a foreign language well, even if it were heavily accented and choppy from missing words. He could barely manage French!
Wait. Back up. Hold on- Major? This kid was in the military? Surely, he couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen. That shouldn't even be allowed!
... he would tuck that thought away for later.
"I'm Harry Potter," he responded, giving Edward an uncertain look. The Colonel was looking almost as confused as Harry had been previously as he watched the slow conversation, much to the Major's quiet amusement. "Where is Central Headquarters, exactly? What country are we in right now?"
Edward's brow furrowed and he let out a shuddering laugh, as if Harry was behaving stupidly. "Vuu vreally not know? Vuu in Amezstriz, Harry. Do vuu not know dhat?" he asked, holding out a gloved left hand. This time, Harry did not ignore his offer and Edward helped him to his feet. His knees popped and his back ached, but he felt healthy physically.
Mentally? Not so much. He was going to go crazy if this wasn't explained to him.
"No... I've never heard of Amestris," Harry admitted blankly.
Edward's eyes narrowed by a fraction. "I not know vhat to zay... how did vuu gettink in here ivv vuu do not know vhere Ameztriz iz? Vuu are clearly loozing memory or sometink."
Pursing his lips, Harry touched his wand again. Those golden eyes... they were unnerving him. Not only the colour, but that fierce swirl of fire was something he only recognized in war-torn soliders. It was startling to see such adult eyes on someone who couldn't be older than twelve.
But before he could say anything on the matter, Edward broke in to speak once more. "Anyvay, I introduze vuu to my co-vorkerz now. Zis," he motioned to the blonde, "Zecond Lieutenant Jean Havoc."
"Hallo," Jean said in the foreign language, obviously realising that the conversation was on him despite not understanding it.
"Zat iz Colonel Roy Muztank, or Colonel Baztard I prever," Edward said, flailing his arms lazily to the other. The Colonel - Roy - flared his nostrils as his name came into the conversation, but otherwise he said nothing. "Dhey not know guud Enklish, but Colonel Baztard iz able to underztand vew vords. He recognize baztard, dat vhy he angry."
Clearly, Edward was speaking the truth, because everytime he said the word 'bastard' the older man's expression would grow tighter and tighter with silent rage. Harry suppressed the urge to laugh and Edward didn't try at all.
Then the Major turned away from Harry and addressed the other two in that wretched language of theirs. Harry was so damn frustrated of hearing it now - he just wished he was back in Hogwarts or somewhere he recognized.
"Er behauptet, sein name ist Harry, und er weiß nicht dass er in Amestris ist."
"Er weiß nicht, wo er ist? Dies könnte ein problem sein. Was ist, wenn er gedächtnisverlust hat?" Roy stated seriously, leaning against the desk and giving Harry a level stare. The wizard shrunk under his onyx gaze; he was somehow ten times more menacing and aggressive than Snape could ever be, and he wasn't entirely sure whether such a look could be considered humanly.
Jean snorted. "Wahrscheinlich. Aber ich bin neugierig, wie er in hier."
Deciding that he really needed his questions answered, Harry coughed loudly and gained their attention. "If I may ask, Edward," he said, "but how far away are we from England?"
"Enkland? Uh... um- vuu are... how to zay... tch, Enkilch..." An uncertain look dulled those fierce golden eyes and his face melted into an apologetic grin as he struggled over his words. "I zorry to zay, but I not know vhere dis 'Enkland' vuu speak ov iz, nor hafe efer heard ov it."
Harry froze. They've never even heard of England... yet Edward speaks English...
There was clearly something fishy going on here, and he wasn't so happy about it.
please mind that this is a prologue, therefore it is shorter than most of my main chapters. do not worry about the fact that you may not be able to understand the 'amestrian', it's supposed to be like that because it is in harry's pov. i have already made this clear in the top author's note. if i get any complaints about this, i will simply delete the review.
if only one or two people review i will most likely discontinue this because i just won't have enough opinions on whether this is worth continuing or not. that may sound harsh, but i'm trying to contain the amount of stories i post because i am already struggling to keep up with updates with already two.
please offer your opinion! do you like the plot idea? is everyone in character? is it well-written? tell me! it will help me understand what you liked about it.
enjoy!
- royal :D