Prologe - Alchemy is a Science!
"Hey, d'you know that the kids are coming down 'ere? We've got ter clean up. An' by we, I mean you," said Max, the barkeeper of the Hog's Head.
The fork Ed was currently toying around with – and by toying around it meant he was trying to see how far the fork would bend until it snapped – leapt into the air with a sharp sprong and embedded itself in the wood an inch away from the Max's ear. He remained unfazed for someone whose ear had been one inch away from dismemberment.
"Stupid kids," Ed muttered under his breath.
"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I give you permission to use minimal amounts of physical coercion to remove somma' the, er, rowdier patrons if they're being particularly stubborn –hey! You there, stop that! This'ah bar, not a strip tease!"
"I get to start a fight?" Ed perked up. It was dead boring around here, ever since that stupid Gate dropped him off at the wrong place in the wrong millennium. Fate was a bitch, and he was her whipping boy.
"'Ey, I said if they make trouble –
"That woman is dancing on top of your best table with her top off."
" . . . Just get them outta' here."
Fifteen minutes, three black eyes, several bruised shins, and one smug-looking Ed later – who remained intact and without any of the before mentioned injuries, the pub was empty and five dazed, inebriated men and woman were kicked out (literally) of the Hog's Head.
"So, what were you saying about kids?" Ed said, absentmindedly sipping water out of a perpetually dusty-looking mug.
"You know that school up there? Bunch of kids comin' down here. Sort of like a shopping trip or something."
Ed grunted. Kids and their shopping sprees were no business of his.
"You know," the barkeeper said, with an expression of fake nonchalance, "the school up there. Dumbledore's the headmaster."
Dumbledore, Ed thought, what a weird name. Dumbley-door, Bumblebour; there's probably a dozen ways you could humiliate the guy by creating an anagram out of his name.
"I heard tha' there's been open spots for teaching. Soun' like your kinna' thing?"
Ed spluttered and swallowed his mouthful of water and barely restrained from hacking up a lung.
"What?" he demanded, after the water had gone down the right way. "What would make you think that I would be interested in such a position? Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Er. No, no, no, of cour' not, why would yeh think that?" the barkeeper said. "Jus' trying to say there's better and bigger jobs in ter world." And that I would be much obliged if you stopped freeloading in my attic.
"Thanks, but no thanks," Ed replied. "I need the job here so I can drop by that bookstore next door anytime. If I had to teach a bunch of kids I'd never get free time away from those brats."
"Well. One 'a the best libraries in Britain is located in there," the barkeeper said desperately. He felt very much like a dedicated salesperson trying to advertise a useful but ugly and unneeded product. Like self-cleaning underwear. Only, the first and last unfortunate couple that bought the product out of pity had nightmares of animated lingerie attempting to strangle them for weeks.
"There's still those annoying kids. All the books in the world wouldn't convince me to give up precious research time to lecture a bunch of hormonal teenagers." The barkeeper wisely decided not to say that Ed actually quite resembled said annoying kid, as he was barely legal and still short as - as – well. The point is, he was short. However, the worst thing the barkeeper could do would be mentioning Ed's height, or lack thereof, when he was trying to bargain something.
"Well. Mabbeh yeh could be the librarian?" The barkeeper's pleading look was almost comical.
"I still say it's not worth it. I don't need any other responsibilities while I'm here to weigh me down."
The barkeeper barely restrained himself from yelling "It's not like yeh have any responsibilities anyway, all you do is loaf around and only when I threaten you with eviction yer move your lazy ass!"
Instead, he threw the rag at Ed's face. He caught in his right hand.
"Clean up. An' take all the unfinished firewhiskey an' put it in the back. Can't have kids drinkin' that and getting piss drunk."
---
The door slammed open and the chilly air outside nipped at the heels of the regulars inside. Among the students that had just walked in were a group of girls who were giggling and casting furtive looks at a boy; said boy was oblivious and muttering with another girl and boy. The mass of students crowded into the tables in the back.
Ed stopped polishing a beer mug – not like it would get clean, it was like there was some sort of spell on it that made the dust stick to the glass like glue – and gave the group an assessing look.
Suspicious eye-darting and nervous glancing around? Check.
Students with their heads bent together whispering furiously, thinking they were being covert? Double check.
The kids' behavior practically screamed, "Look at me, look at me, I'm going to do something illegal, morally questionable, or indecent!"
It was his public duty to listen in so they didn't do anything too outrageous, wasn't it? If he didn't eavesdrop on them, it was like looking the other way when a crime was being committed!
Ed swung himself up into the rafters and silently crawled on the wooden beams until he was directly above the students. There was a lot of talk about a dark lord – Voldemort or something ridiculous and French like that, something about an Um-bitch, and that Dumbledore guy was mentioned again.
The kids began to scribble something on a piece of parchment with a giant feather. Er. Quill. Wizards, Ed thought, they can do magic and yet they act as if they were still stuck in the sixteenth century. Backwards, all of them.
There was an abrupt BANG! and the door of the Hog's Head was slammed open so hard the door knob left dents in the wall. A harried-looking woman with eyes full of fear and panic burst in clutching a baby at her bosom and clasping her other child in a death grip. The baby was crying noisily. The girl was also had tears streaming down her face, and she grasped her right side with her left hand. A large blood stain was spreading on her white blouse.
"Someone please help!" the mother pleaded.
Startled by the sudden appearance of a blood-soaked woman, Ed jumped down and landed lightly on his feet.
A girl behind him shrieked.
Ed moved towards the woman, indifferent to any screams elicited by his sudden emergence, and fumbled for his wand. Holding it in his left hand, he kneeled down and gently (or as gently as possible for one with a metal limb) removed the girl from her mother's grasp.
"Two broken ribs . . ." he said. "Crap."
He awkwardly held his wand, waved it, and muttered Brackium Emendo.
"Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. . .?" the mother said.
"Elric. Edward Elric, at your service."
Author's Note: Okay. Guys, this is the prologue. I was originally going to stick it with Chapter One, but it didn't fit, as Chapter One is going to be part of an The Arrival arc. Also known as the really long intro.
Yes, this is rewritten. And it's all because of you, yes, you reviewers, because you're so damn annoying I had to update.
Kidding. Really. Please don't bombard me with tomatoes.
Much Love,
Phantom