Disclaimer: I own only the plot. Nothing else. And my friend made up the "yellow quacking duck" song.
Harry was sitting in his seat on the muggle contraption that they call "airplane." Harry, who had after all grown up in a muggle family, knew what it was of course, but he'd never been on one, since the Dursleys' didn't quite find it worth it to take him on their trips to Majorca, and instead he'd been left with Mrs. Figg for a couple weeks at a time. In any case, he was amused to finally be riding on a Boeing 747 to Japan, from London's Heathrow airport, which was perhaps even bigger than Hogwarts, if that was possible. Harry looked to his right, where a short kid with amber eyes and long-ish blonde, braided hair sat, wearing black pants, a white shirt, white gloves, and a long red jacket with a funny symbol on the back. Harry hoped that it wasn't the symbol of some cult-spinoff from the Death Eaters, but the kid didn't really look evil. On the other side of the aisle, to the kid's right, was a tall man in a very official looking coat with short, black hair. He looked bored, playing with a fancy silver pocket watch. A bit pretentious, Harry thought, Dumbledore was the only one who would look normal with a pocketwatch. Harry looked to his left, and was astonished. He'd thought the kid was short, but on his left was a 3 and a half foot tall creature with short, curly brown hair and a missing finger. Harry continued to stare in wonder—the only creatures that height who he had seen were the miniscule, but pestiferous Peeves, Hogwarts poltergeist, and the goblins who ran Gringotts, who were ugly, twisted, old, and sneering, not like this creature next to him, who also had enormous hairy feet with no shoes, and a quaint 19th-century farmboy type outfit on. Harry's staring attracted the little guy's attention, who said "Excuse me?" Harry shook his head and mumbled, "Sorry." The creature turned back to his huge antique-looking, handwritten book, which had lots of odd drawings and foreign writing in it. Not unlike Ancient Runes, perhaps, Harry thought, wondering if Hermione could translate them if she were present. Harry's attention turned to the man next to the very short little man. This man was over 6 feet tall, it seemed, wearing a gray-ish black suit, impeccably white shirt, and blue tie. He had neatly cut, slighly wavy grey hair and an amiable face. His demeanor seemed perpetually cheerful, but resigned to the 10-hour-flight ahead. The man seemed to know it would be boring, but he would be pleasant, no matter. Harry thought he looked familiar… perhaps he'd seen a picture of the man in a muggle newspaper somewhere, but he couldn't think of exactly where or when.
Harry dug into his bag for some chocolate. Remus hadn't missed an opportunity to counsil him to eat plenty during the "dangerous, unreliable, and frought" journey, nor had Mrs. Weasley overlooked packing him plenty of more healthy food. And a sweater. But Harry preferred his Honeyduke's chocolate to either. Not as if he was going to eat the sweater, anyways. Harry took a big bite out of the end of the bar, and began to chew it. The kid on his right—the rather short one—looked over at him and said, "Hey." "Hi," Harry said. The kid took out of his bag some sugar, butter, milk, and cocoa beans. He then began drawing on the airline tray table. "What are you DOING?" Harry inquired. Harry could only imagine what Hermione would have said if she were here right now. The kid didn't answer, but continued his work. Harry was thoroughly convinced that the kid was kinda weird, and he returned to his chocolate. Just then, the kid clapped his hands and set them down next to his design on the tray, in the center of which he had put the various food items. The lines of the design lit up and glowed, and in a few flashes of light, the ingredients dissappeared and a huge chocolate bar appeared. Harry was impressed and very curious, but he whispered sharply to the kid, "Don't do magic around muggles! The ministry will send you a warning!" The kid, who'd begun eagerly munching his chocolate, looked at Harry, seemingly very befuddled. Harry noticed the man on the other side of the aisle roll his eyes in an exasperated manner, and pull a large stack of papers out of a briefcase, which he began to review in a very self-important manner. The man shot a dark glower at the kid every once in a while. The kid didn't seem to care.
"It's not magic, stupid," said the kid. "Alchemy. Don't tell me you've never heard of it."
"Of course it's magic!" replied Harry. "Alchemy's a branch of magic, isn't it?"
"Nope. It's the principle of equivalent trade. Duh."
"Ooooooh, well in my first year I fought Voldemort for the Sorcerer's Stone, and WON, so do excuse me if I think I know what alchemy is." Harry then made a fatal mistake. He added, "Shorty."
The kid exploded. "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT??? SAY THAT AGAIN!!!!" The kid was jumping on his seat. Other passengers looked up and grumbled. Harry was distinctly embarrassed, but the kid seemed no such thing.
"Calm down," said Harry. "What's your name? Which wizard school do you attend? You're not at Hogwarts, are you?"
"Edward Elric, State Alchemist. You must have heard of me." His tone was gloating. "And no, I don't go to wizard's school. Wizards don't exist, you creep. And I've never heard of 'Hogwarts.'"
"No, I haven't heard of you, maybe because you're bonkers. Of course wizards exist, I am one, and you are too if you're doing alchemy."
"Am not!"
"Must be!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Are too a wizard!" Harry said in an exasperated tone. "And what do you mean, 'state alchemist,' you're too young to be in the army." Harry paused. "And too short."
The dark-haired man across from this Edward Elric, State Alchemist seemed to smirk slightly at this comment, and maintained this expression as he returned to pretentiously reviewing his stack of papers. Edward Elric, State Alchemist exploded again in the meantime. "IM NOT SHORT! IM TALLER THAN YOU, MAGIC-MAN !"
"I'm 5'8"," Harry said, "And you're about 5'2"," he said, standing up and towering over the temperamental guy. What would have happened if the super-tall Ron were there, Harry could only imagine. Ed jumped as high as he could several times, at the top of each jump saying very loudly, very quickly, "SEEIMTALLERTHANYOU!!! SEEIMTALLERTHANYOU!!!" The dark-haired man rolled his eyes again. "Who are you, anyways?" asked Ed in an insolent tone, when he'd finally resumed his seat. "Harry Potter," responded ending. "And just who is Harry Potter?" Ed demanded in the same tone. "I'm a wizard at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in England of course, and I'll be starting my 6th year this fall." Ed glowered. "Witches and wizards don't exist," he said. "Yes they do, you're an alchemist? What country do you come from where alchemists aren't wizards, and wizards don't exist? Professor Trelawney once said something about a planet where really weird people come from…"
"I come from Japan, because if you haven't noticed we're on a plane to go there right now. I-" Ed began self-importantly, "was on a secret mission in London."
"Oh, is that so," said Harry in a bored voice, which was not quite the reaction that Ed had been hoping for. "And I'll prove to you that wizards exist." Harry reached over and grabbed Ed's chocolate bar, eliciting an indignant "HEY!" and attempts to recover it, but Harry just snapped it calmly in half, and then pulled out his wand, tapped it and said, "Reparo!"
"Oh, yes, very impressive," said Ed, snatching the chocolate back. He took Harry's chocolate, ground it into his seatback tray with excessive force, and then commenced drawing again. "I said don't do magic in front of the muggles, Ed!" Harry exclaimed. Ed ignored him, and transmuted Harry's chocolate back into a whole bar, which he then put in his own bag. It was now Harry's turn to shout "Hey!" followed by a quick, "Accio Chocolate!" which resulted in the stolen bar flying into his hand, and he stowed it quickly. Ed stared. Just to prove his point, Harry pointed his wand at Ed's chocolate, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!" making the chocolate fly up into Harry's suitcase in the overhead compartment. "You-you-you are a wizard!" Ed stammered, surprised in the extreme. "Yep," said Harry, now feeling rather smug himself. After several seconds of silence, Ed asked, "What's a muggle?"
"A non-magic person. This plane is full of them. I wouldn't be on this plane, it's a muggle device, except I don't have an Apparition license yet, and I'm not going to fly to Japan by broom, even on a Firebolt."
Ed was very confused,
but he tried not to show it. "Why can't you do magic infront of
them?"
"Because then they'll know that wizards exist, and
try to make us fix their problems and work for them and do all their
cleaning by magic and stuff."
"I hate cleaning," was Ed's response. "You did magic, though."
"What?" said Harry.
"You did magic, and there are 'muggles' around."
"Uhh… yeah, I did…" Harry searched for an excuse. "Well, I'm on a secret mission to Japan, so I guess I'm allowed to. Heh." That would do well enough.
"Yeah right you are," said Ed, looking highly skeptical.
"Yeah, I am!" said
Harry, preparing for a spirited defense of his invented Secret
Mission.
"Uh-huh," said Ed, even more skeptically.
"Honestly, you must never heard of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but I'm going over there to take care of some of them that seem to want to expand the Dark Side to overseas. Stop it before it starts," Harry invented. He was surprised at his own skill in coming up with this cover story.
"Voldemort? Death Eaters? What kind of stupid people have names like that?"
"Evil people."
"Didn't you say you'd already fought Voldemort, and won? In your first year?"
"Yeah."
"Well
you must not have done a very good job, if you have to go again."
"Listen, Ed, I didn't kill Voldemort and all his followers, I just saved the Sorcerer's Stone!"
"THE SORCERER'S STONE? YOU'VE SEEN IT? YOU HAVE IT? WHERE IS IT? CAN I HAVE IT?" Ed said very quickly at almost the top of his lungs. "Shhhhhhhhhh!" said Harry, very exasperated at the kid's immaturity. "Duh, I've seen it if I saved it. And Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore destroyed it, so that Voldemort could never get it."
"So Voldemort's a
rogue alchemist?"
"NO, he's an evil wizard who wants to kill
all muggles and half-bloods."
"Half-bloods?"
"Wizard's who aren't pureblood."
"Okay, whatever. Why on earth would you destroy the Sorcerer's stone, idiot? And who's Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, the arch-idiot stone destroyers?"
"DON'T-INSULT-DUMBLEDORE-IN FRONT-OF ME!" Harry practically screamed; it was his turn to be mad now. "Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts, the most brilliant sorcerer ever, and Flamel is the man who created the stone. He was 665 years old when he died," Harry explained when he'd calmed down.
"People DON'T live
to be 665 years old," said Ed with an air of incredulity.
"People
with the Sorcerer's Stone do," said Harry, with just as much
incredulity about the kid's lack of knowledge.
"Well how did
he make the stone?" asked Ed quickly. Finding this out seemed to
be his real purpose.
"I dunno, and Dumbledore's certainly not telling. It was destroyed so that no one could ever use it, remember? VOL-DE-MORT!" Harry reminded.
Ed looked crushed. He'd just learned that the Sorcerer's stone existed, that he could have gotten his brother's body back, and his arm and leg, and even revived his mother. Then, hope was taken away from him again. It wasn't like Ed hadn't encountered so many setbacks and disapointments before, but this was the closest he'd ever come to finding the Stone—to everything he'd worked for his entire life, and it wasn't true. "Oh," he said softly, almost resigned to his fate. He decided to explain why he wanted it, anyways. "See, I needed the ultimate power amplifyer so I can give my brother his body back, and bring my mother back to life. And restore my arm and leg," he added, dramatically pulling off one of his white gloves to reveal a hand of metal. Harry gasped. Even the time when that oaf, Lockhart, had managed to remove all of the bones from his arm in his second year, Madame Pomfrey had grown them back, overnight. He'd never seen an injury so bad that it couldn't be recovered from (although he supposed there were many in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies), much less such an advanced muggle device. What had happened to Ed, he wondered, that he had to have a metal arm, especially since Ed, for all he said that alchemy was science, was so obviously connected with some mysterious ancient magical power? Harry felt sorry for his new acquaintance—but none the less, he had to tell Ed the truth. "The Sorcerer's Stone can't do that," he said.
"What?" asked Ed, who was hoping that his last source of hope wasn't going to be taken away. What he would do if it was, he didn't know. This hope was what he'd been living for for most of his life, and as much as he might act otherwise, giving his brother his body back, and reviving their mother was his only purpose on the planet.
"The Sorcerer's stone can only make as much gold as you want, and the Elixir of Life. It can restore your brother's body if his soul is intact, but it cannot create a new life where none existed before."
Ed looked away, only to see Roy smiling as he continued "working." He supposed Roy was happy because Ed would now have to focus on the military if there was no Sorcerer's Stone to be gone after. Ed vowed that whatever happened, he would never do that—he'd live to see the pretentious smirk wiped off Roy's smug face. Usually Ed just teased Roy for being a power-loving blockhead, but now he was really, truly annoyed by Roy's presence. Ed's musings were interrupted by Harry's voice.
"Only necromancery can do that. It is the darkest of the Dark Arts. No one who has attempted it has survived. Even Voldemort has not yet attempted it."
Ed was more dejected than ever. Even if, against all odds, he got the Sorcerer's Stone that this Harry kid was talking about, and gave his brother back his body, they would never be able to bring their mother back. Ed wouldn't give up easily, but defeat seemed closer now than it ever had seemed before. He sat for several minutes in silence, uninterrupted by the ambient noises of the other passengers going about their business. Their worlds had not just come crashing down. The sky was still blue, the sea was still green… Someone in the background was singing. Ed cheered up slightly when he heard a girl's voice singing, "We all swim with the yellow quacking ducks, the yellow quacking ducks, the yellow quacking ducks." That was something he would do, just to annoy Roy. He imagined Roy telling him in an important tone, "Fullmetal, the lyrics are 'We all live in a yellow submarine. Now stop your nonsense about yellow quacking ducks and GET BACK TO WORK!" Ed almost laughed. He'd have to try that one sometime. He made a bet with himself—"a big box of chocolates for me if he says exactly that." Ed took another bite of the chocolate that he had transmuted earlier. Suddenly, the idea came to him that Harry's Sorcerer's Stone from the British world where alchemy was magic might not be the same as the one that he was looking for. "What does your Stone look like?" Ed asked suddenly. Harry was surprised. "Uhh… small, about two inches, jagged, a deep blood red, shiny…" Ed's heart sunk. It was the same. "And you can see through it," Harry added. Ed's face broke out into a huge smile. "YES!" he shouted (which sounded very, very loud in the confined space of the airplane), jumping up on his seat and punching his fist in the air. Unfortunately, despite Ed's—well, small—height, he still smashed his head into the overhead compartment. This prompted him to start dancing a very weird dance, half bent over standing on his seat, which consisted of him holding his head and alternately exclaiming "Ow! Ow ow ow… YES YES YES! THIS IS SOOOOO COOL! Ow… OW OW OW!" Passengers were glaring and/or snickering at Ed, including Harry. The man sitting across from Ed didn't seem to like this, Harry noticed, and seemed to think he risked being associated with the hyper teenager. The man said with a smirk, "Good job, Fullmetal. You, of course, usually don't have to worry about hitting your head. Now, sit down before you repeat the experience and make yourself short…er… if that's possible." Harry noticed Ed was very, shall we say, sensitive about his height, or lack of it, and Ed had begun to repeat (this time, though, sitting down) his performance of, "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, BAKAAAAAA???" Ed followed his apoplectic shouting fit by marching across the small aisle to the man's seat, where he pulled a pen out of his pocket, drew a design on the top sheet of one of the two stacks of papers on the man's tray table, and did the hand-clap maneuver. Suddenly, the pages were wiped blank, and the ink was in a small jar with a quill pen. "Have fun giving the general that report, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang," he said mockingly. Said Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, as Harry now knew he was called, looked absolutely outraged. When he began to say something, he stopped short as Ed emptied the jar of ink onto the blank stack of papers, clapped his hands again, and the top paper said, "I am Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. I am a pompous and incompetent fool." on them in large bold letters. Roy rifled through the stack. Each and every paper said the same thing. "Fullmetal…" he growled, and raised his hand, pointing his palm at where Ed's hand rested, about to destroy the second stack of papers. A flame suddenly spat out of Roy's palm at Ed's hand. Harry was enthralled. Military alchemists, both of them? Anyways, Ed moved his hand out of the way and calmly walked back to his seat, leaving Roy to fume over the fact that he had now destroyed his second very important report. "Heh," said Ed, "Thanks for saving me the work." Roy glowered darkly in Ed's direction, and Harry tried, with varying degrees of non-success, to stifle a laughing fit for the next five minutes.