Hello there! Welcome to my first fic. This one is mainly based on the Anime!Ed, but everything is probably going to be manga-based... probably...
Disclaimer: I own neither Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter (but if if could own one I'd rather own FMA)

Chapter One – Illusion of Strength

People cannot gain anything without sacrificing something.

You must present something of equal value to gain something.

That is the principle of equivalent exchange in alchemy.

We believed that was the truth of the world when we were young.

~Alphonse Elric

-Amestris ~ Resembool 1993-

"Oka-san! Oka-san!" A four year old Edward rushed out of the house, transmuted wooden bird clenched firmly in one hand. Trisha Elric, his mother, greeted him with a smile that was glowing with happiness and health as she un-clipped yet another piece of clothing from the line where they had dried. Her smile widened as she recognized him, and noticed a three-year-old Alphonse running on short legs behind him.

"Oka-san! I made you a present!" Edward proudly held the metal creation for inspection as Alphonse caught up.

"Oka-san... I made you one too!" Alphonse panted. "Although mine isn't as detailed as brother's…."

Trisha smiled warmly at her sons, placing the basket with the washed clothes on the ground next to her, bending down to examine the offerings. She smiled at Alphonse -it was typical of him to downplay his work, and pulled her sons into a hug, exclaiming how marvellous she thought the creations were. Her voice had a sincere note about it, and touches of pride. 'They really are his children' She thought ruefully to herself, leading them in. They were not excessively rich, no, but they were happy. And it was enough.

It was Christmas, and the family spend it outdoors, picnicking near the river with the Rockbells.

Trisha made small talk with Sara and Urey as she watched over her children. All was well.

-England ~ Little Whingling ~ 4th Privet Drive-

"Boy! There is still a speck on those dishes!" Petunia shrieked – not too loudly, it wouldn't do for the neighbours to hear, but loud enough to make Harry cringe and shrink away from her.

Satisfied that she had taught the little brat a lesson; fear worked better than physical injury sometimes, she turned away to resume making breakfast. Shame that people would notice burns if she tried to force cooking and more chores on the freak, really he ought to be grateful for putting up with him during Dudley's critical years of growing up.

"-Two less than last year!" Dudley's voice echoed from within the living room as he cried in outrage.

"But look, some of these are bigger than last yea-" Vernon Dursley's loud booming voice was easily audible to Petunia, despite the closed doors between them. Scowling at Harry, as if it were all somehow his fault, she hastily left to reassure her precious son that they would pick up presents for him on the way to the the zoo.

Harry cringed as the door slammed shut, distantly, he could hear the car drive away. Most parents would have had the thought to bring along a four-year old, but the Dursleys would have preferred to be rid of him. He released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, glad that they were gone.

School hadn't been so great that week. Usually he enjoyed watching the teachers discipline Dudley – his cousin, but this week he had sat next to the girl Dudley liked, and had gotten beaten up, while Dudley was congratulated for 'learning to defend against the scarred freak' by his aunt and uncle. Then when the test scores came back, Aunt Petunia had been furious the he'd passed when Dudley had failed. On top of that, he'd grown some and the under-the-stairs closet was starting to feel cramped.

'Maybe if I keep doing worse than Dudley, I won't get beaten up again?' He thought naively. But then, he was but a child.

Dragging himself back to the amount of gratitude to whatever watching deity that the Dursleys were out. He took a deep breath, and begun on the stack of dishes; he could go on. It would be alright.

-Two Years Later-

Harry winced, leaning against the wall.

'I can go on. It will be alright.'

Only that it wasn't. His arm was undoubtedly broken, and it hurt like hell. What was worse was that no matter what Dudley did, he would get only praise, and he wouldn't stop, no matter how hard Harry tried to stay out of his way.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and he shivered against the cold, slumped against the wall, coated in blood. No-one would come, Dudley had made sure to sure to dump him in a secluded corridor. If he was lucky, the cleaner might see him after school. But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him, not over their precious darling.

A shadow loomed over Harry, and he cringed, expecting nothing but harsh words, and a punch if it was Dudley. The unknown person leaned down, Harry's sight was blurry and couldn't make out the finer details of their face. Then they stood, said something to someone behind them, and he couldn't hang on any longer. Everything went black.

"Oka-san!Oto-san! I think he's waking!" Harry heard a child's voice ring from somewhere near him. It was definitely female, and she sounded nice, not like Dudley and Uncle Vernon's booming voices, nor Petunia's screechy one. Blinking his eyes open, he caught a glimpse of long blond hair and sky-blue eyes. Vaguely, he recognised her to be the girl that Dudley was crushing on, who had caused (however indirectly), him to be beaten in the first place. Distantly, he realised he was lying on something soft, not the moth-eaten mattress he had gotten so used to. The girl beside him – Winry was it, had turned away and was facing the door. Through the wide archway, came strolling a figure dressed in white. A doctor's garb. Harry vaguely recognised the man to be one of the school's on-campus doctors.

The man crossed in swift steps to where Harry lay, gazing up with wide eyes, trying not to cringe. The man frowned slightly and Harry braced himself.

'Is he mad because I got his sheets dirty? Will he beat me? Has he reported me to the Dursleys? Where am I? Did he... kidnap me...? Is he holding me hostage for money... the Dursleys won't give him the money anyway. They don't care. What's going to happen to me..?'

Harry unconsciously shifted away from the towering man. Unexpectedly, the man knelt against the bed and reached for Harry's hand. Harry froze, his mind playing scene after horrible scene, there he lived his nightmares. Then the man grasped his hand, checked his pulse and released him. Harry watched with wide eyes as the man begun to talk in his low voice.

"I am Urey Rockbell. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Harry inwardly pulled himself together, deliberately keeping his face blank. It wouldn't make any difference if he said anything. No-one believed him, not Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, nor the teachers since Dudley always had the perfect alibi. He didn't need to be betrayed again. He shook his head, a second too soon.

Urey sighed. It seemed that the poor boy was afraid of getting beaten again. There was nothing that he could do without evidence, frustrating though it was. So as soon as he was sure that he boy was alright again, he drove him back to his house.

Harry profusely thanked the man. Not only had he fixed him up, but had also driven him home and ensured that he could not had been held at fault for being absent, although once he had left Aunt Petunia had punished him for not doing the dishes, he had been forced back into his closet under the stairs, but he was used to the cramped space by now. Still, he could have sworn that his arm had been broken...

"Urey... that boy..." It was dinnertime for the Rockbells, and Sara was intent on changing the topic back to Harry. "It is obvious that he is suffering under their care. If it were someone else who meant much to us.." She trailed off, thinking how Winry might have fared under those same circumstances.

"It's frustrating, I know, but it is beyond us to do anything just yet." Urey Rockbell replied to his wife, as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and become tormented, he could see her trying to find some way to save the youth he had brought home for treatment. But they could do nothing but watch and wait for a suitable opportunity. And he hated it.