Evil In The Wrong Hands
by val'tanelle
Disclaimer: This fanfic was inspired by Never Let Go by Obsessive Child.
Summary: PostManga. While traveling west, Edward encounters Nicolas Flamel. Flamel, seeing Ed's talent, gave him the opportunity to use alchemy again. Flamel's lending hand turns out to be digging Ed's fate deeper in the magical world, starting with the orphan named Tom Riddle.
Author's Notes: Screw the timeline, I have cookies. Screw the geography too. I have...cake.
About The Fanfic: So I was on a writing spree and had the chapter up quickly. Using my own writing style. I thought of going for a beta-reader but then I thought readers are the best judges. So I'm just posting it up to test my style so don't waste your time shouting "PLZ UPDATE" although in the far future, I still plan on pursuing this. So just take note, this is kind of a draft. Up for revisions, not a formal story yet.
Sad Tom Riddle can't show up yet.
E v i l
In The Wrong Hands
I: Leaping Over A Dead End
Two and a half years was the time Edward Elric have been traveling to further his study on alchemy. His brother, Alphonse Elric, meanwhile, had been traveling eastward with the same purpose. Within a span of five years, the brothers swore to return to Amestris, bringing with them extensive research from east and west alchemy, and marry his fiance, Winry Rockbell. Ed was barely in contact with his family and friends, including the letters his fiance send to him every few months. His fiance was also taking this time to study, this time on automail technology.
After hitting it through Capet for a year and now staying in Sylvette, Ed decided to acknowledge his problem after pondering Winry's last letter. Winry had gone through apprenticeship of many smiths to develop her knowledge and earn not only experience but also cash in her applications of her study. Even Ed's brother had signed up as an apprentice to learn alkahestry, a branch of alchemy focusing on medicine. Ed however had not met a single master or specialist in his journey.
Alchemy in the west was certainly different, just as alkahestry was from the alchemy Ed knew. The branch of alchemy here centralized alchemy as a spiritual aspect, rather than an application or arts. Counting the unpopularity of alchemy, the common people misinterpret even the purpose of this branch of alchemy. For them, it was about turning metal to gold. Edward had been putting up with old books and ancient archeological findings with bills and green paper slipping like sands on his fingers from his wallet.
Ed did find his findings enlightening though. Living without alchemy – as in being unable to perform it – had made formerly trivial things, just with a clap of his hands, now difficult and tiring. The teachings of western alchemy helped Ed cope up with the matter, making him optimistic and readily adaptable, and even mature.
More importantly, it helped open his mind. Well, kind of. Being a scientist at heart, Ed was still dubious at the magic and spells he passed through while studying history books. He found some ancient runes very informative but most, including the magic and stuffs, were impossible to decipher. He needed someone to explain this especially since this alchemy was western alchemy. It's supposed to have background on the countries and being a foreigner did not help his understanding on the past of these lands.
Ed's next stop was a decision from a couple of scholars and professors. The Holy Grail was a mythological artifact that held religious and political background, which Ed had seen as possibly with alchemical roots in its history. After all, the Philosopher's Stone was a myth too and that turned out to be untrue. Since Ed could do nothing with his lack of masters or teachers, he headed to where he could, to England, hoping that he encounter some scientific breakthrough.
"What?" Ed demanded. "Alchemy not existing?"
"I didn't say that," the old man said, not lifting his eyes from the thick volume he was reading, a mug of black coffee on his desk and another on Ed's right; they sat across each other. "I said it's an abstract concept and that it's not a scientific study."
"That's exactly it. Alchemy is science, not an idea."
"Your research details alchemy as a discipline."
"Yes, but those were my findings in the branch of alchemy here," Ed said. "Alchemy is science from where I came from and is even medicine in the east."
"Oh?" The old man said, finally putting his eyes off his book. "Where did you say you come from?"
"Amestris, middle-east country."
"I've never heard of it," the professor said, scratching his white beard. "Can you show me what Amestrian alchemy is?"
Edward took out a clean sheet of paper and a marker, drawing circles and inscribing runes, explaining the rudimentary form and the fundamental laws governing the circle, which was akin to the Ouroboros. The professor appeared pleasantly surprised and intrigued, but Ed could read hints of reservedness as if there were a point the professor saw that was as true as a fact.
"Amazing," he said, studying the circle one more time. "Your knowledge is very in-depth. I'm impressed. There are no holes in the explanation and it seems only to illuminate confusing essentials in alchemy."
"But you don't believe me?" Ed said.
"I believe what you showed me in this paper, Mr. Elric," the professor said, putting the piece of paper down. "But exploiting energy flowing in the crust to incite a reaction is a stretch. A big stretch. Unless you show me how it's done," he pressed on before Ed could speak, "then I have no valid reason to provide funds for your research here. I'm sorry, Mr. Elric. That's how it goes."
Ed sighed. He wasn't used to the no-answer but it was getting worse in every leap in countries. "If only my brother were here to show you. It's fine if you don't believe me. I do know seeing is believing for scientists," he said. "But visit Amestris when you can. If there's a possibility it does exist – and I'm telling you, it does – then you shouldn't just ignore it."
"Very true. Maybe I'll ask a friend abroad to do it for me. How old is your brother?"
"Nineteen," Ed said, standing up. "He went off under-aged but he have some muscleheads following him."
"Simply wonderful," the professor said, smiling as he rose from his seat too, "for men in such young age to seek knowledge. But Mr. Elric, I hope not to offend you with this, but to be frank, while I do find your enthusiasm endearing, it's such a wasted effort for a young man your caliber. Alchemy may exist but it is, well, a dead art. England had long dropped old fables and continued to science, potioneering. I highly recommend you seek a different field to research on."
Ed grinned, shaking hands with the old man. "I've lived and breathed alchemy my whole life. The moment I drop it is when I drop dead."
A few months since that meeting, Ed did look up on potioneering and discovered something of potentially alchemy-origin: chemistry. It was almost the same as alchemy, following the same laws. However, chemistry used a different catalyst, crossing out the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Chemistry used heating, cooling, mixing, and things you'd encounter while cooking. It seemed more primitive to Ed rather than the some advanced alchemy he expected, which made England drop the "old fables."
There was a phone call back from the old professor who dropped him a message about an acquaintance wanting to speak with him. Ed didn't exactly have the reason to say no since his schedule had been even more free compared to the past years with nothing to look up on.
He met up with this guy who happened to just want to talk about alchemy because he was a fan of it. Ed didn't mind the guy until he kept on pushing alchemy as some sort of plot device for a fantasy game. It wasn't anything scientific so Ed was strongly disappointed. In the end, he got the contact of this guy's friend who might help him in his research. After Ed's experience with him, Ed doubted he'd dial the numbers anytime soon.
However, Ed's luck suddenly turned around a month later. Since he was lacking in sources and funds for research (not that he had no money, but those were for his travel and housing), Ed had been taking some jobs and training physically. While taking a morning jog, a French couple in their mid-thirties were taking a break near the lake. It just so happened that Ed noticed what the shirt the French guy was wearing.
"Excuse me," Ed said to couple, who stopped their conversation. "That thing on your shirt, is that the symbol of Flamel?"
"Nick, this is why I told you not to wear that ugly thing out," the man's wife said.
"But it's my symbol," he groaned.
"Yes, and after six hundred twenty-five years being with you, we both know you could only impress a lady with your taste if she were a blind toad."
"Ugh, dear, after all the years – six hundred twenty I don't know – you've never develop a pinch of idea what alchemy is."
"It reflects on the nature of alchemy," Ed explained, happy to share his favorite subject in the world. "It goes back to the Greek story of Asclepius, who was the god of medicine and healing and could make anyone immortal. His symbol is a snake intertwining on a rod, which is like Flamel's symbol here. Alchemy had been about gold for most people but it's just a way of an alchemist's saying 'to become the perfect being' whether by never aging or by achieving wisdom."
"Or both," the man said, eying at Ed curiously. "What's your name, young man?"
"Edward Elric," he answered, offering his hand to both of them. "I came here to study alchemy."
"Study alchemy?" the man said, startled. "When did Mu-people study alchemy again?"
"Alchemy's always existed from where I came," Ed explained, frowning. "I had no idea it was a dead art here."
The man screwed his face like trying to figure out Ed's life's expectancy just by looking at him.
"I have a friend who might be of help," he said after a while. "Would you like to meet with him?"
"That would be great," Ed said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He hadn't exactly been hopeful for information after the unfruitful months but didn't want to offend the French by rejecting the offer. "Do you mind telling me how to contact him? Like his number?"
It was as if Ed said a joke when the man chuckled.
"I'm afraid he's an old-fashioned man. Doesn't have a telefoam—"
"Telephone," the woman whispered.
"-telephone. Perhaps meeting here tomorrow? He has some free time on Sundays, at least the most he could have."
"I'm up to it. What does he look like?"
"Redhead. Flashy beard. You'll see him instantly. I am Nicolas Flamel, by the way, and this is my wife, Penelope. We have some ironic names, don't we?"
The following day, Ed dressed up in a semi-uniform clothes. It was a pain having to bring selected clothes for special occasions since he often met up with scholars, doctors, and professors. In his suitcase, carefully plastic, was his old red coat, the one that had Flamel's symbol on it. Others said it was gaudy and...well, Ed had to admit; he was a bit embarrassed proudly wearing those around now that he was years older. It was to motivate him because red just made him pumped up...how childish is that?
Shaking his head, Ed went to the same place he met Nicholas Flamel. Not the real Flamel, of course. The real Nicolas Flamel may have existed and might even still be alive, but Ed doubt he'd meet him and his wife right in the middle of an ordinary park. It's like a one in a quadrillion chance.
Like what Nick (as what he'd prefer to be called) said, this friend of his was someone he'd able to distinguish. He'd seen a lot of redhead, but this man's beard was bright red too. But something else made Ed stop in the middle of his tracks.
"Oh, good morning. Mr. Elric, I suppose?"
While Ed was wearing a black vest over a white pinstriped polo, complete with a navy necktie, Nick's friend was wearing a...well, dress robes. Dress robes.
Dress robes.
…
Dress robes.
"..."
Ed just hoped he was wearing something underneath.
"G-good morning," Ed said, trying to smile. He'd been around the world and through insane stuffs. But he hadn't just seen enough. The world had installed endless kind of surprises to anyone. Things you thought didn't exist do. Things you never imagine could be do. And it never ends, like right now.
"My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Please, call me Albus."
"Edward Elric, sir," Ed said, shaking the hand the man offered. It came out before he realized it. Ed was never the polite-formal type, even to his colleagues, but something in this man radiated power that demanded respect.
Albus smiled benignly. "Out of curiosity, Mr. Elric—"
"Ed."
"-Ed," Albus amended. "If you don't mind, and I apologize if it sounds rude, but how old are you?"
Well, everyone he met ended up asking that too.
"Twenty," Ed answered. "I've been traveling for two and a half years to study western alchemy."
"You have many tales to tell then. Fortunately, I have finished my deadlines due in a few minutes so I have nothing to rush at the moment. Perhaps, ah, we sit down?"
It was odd sitting with a redhead man in dress robes in the middle of the park. Albus didn't seem to be bothered. He seemed very interested in everything around him on the contrary.
"Something good happen?" Ed asked just to break the ice. Albus was smiling for some reason like he wa greatly pleased at the ordinariness.
"I am a very busy man and to be out here to witness quaintness and peace is like a vacation for me," Albus answered. "I am envious of your chance to travel. When I had just graduated, I was eager to discover the world. But my mother had died, my father imprisoned – shortly dying – and my sister in an unstable condition; I was the eldest. Relinquishing my dream for my family had made me bitter, though I am ashamed to have felt so."
"Oh," Ed said, stumped. He had just heard an intimate short story from an acquaintance. That did not happen often. "My mom died too. And my dad left us when we were young. He came back years later but died from circumstances." Ed scratched the back of his neck. How awkward was this?
But Albus have no such feeling tying him down. His eyes seemed to lighten up even more. "And you and your brother?"
"We had a family friend but we fend off for ourselves..." Ed stopped, slightly confused. When did he tell Albus he had a brother? Did he mention it to Nick? No, Ed had a good memory. He had never mentioned Alphonse.
He saw Albus intently looking at his eyes like he was looking at his very soul. Ed felt a tinge in his head, causing his eyes twitch.
"Is everything fine, Ed?"
Ed didn't reply; he flashed some blinks a few times and rubbing his temple. He and his brother had gone hungry sitting in front of their mother's grave. Their skin had gone cold as light diminish, waiting for the embrace full of warmth. They'd sent out letters to their father, hoping he'd come back to save her. Day and night, they worked through books, worked under their master, Izumi Curtis, weaving together the threads for that fabric of dream. They made a mistake, they made a decision, they moved forward-
A chorus of gasps, a mini-second time stop, a sudden reaction. Ed was on his feet and he was breathing hard, heart racing like he'd ran a marathon. His senses were gone like he was half-asleep, until noises from outside shook him awake. He was nose-to-nose with Albus, his feet slightly dangling few inches from the ground. Ed saw his clutches on Albus's front, his knuckles white. There was strain in his muscles that he never realized. Slowly, he released the man and moved backward. Confused, but still with sharpened instincts.
"Who are you?" Ed asked so quiet that none of the bystanders could possibly decipher his murmur.
"I am Albus Dumbledore," he said calmly, reaching a hand into his robes as if to pull something out. "Professor of Hogwarts, school of wizard and sorcery."
Ed's eyes widened and he turned around wildly. "Run!" he roared to the bystanders.
Frightened faces however melted to a calm, dreamy, far-off gaze like a hypnotizing mermaid song had took away all their worries. Expressions were burned off without a trace and time returned. They moved about again. Jogging, leisurely chatting, eating...as if nothing had transpired between the two men.
Ed saw the man withdraw not a weapon like a gun, but a small rod, a stick. Ed froze; not knowing what exactly it was had scaled the dangers even higher. Albus returned it into his robes, deathly calm.
"It seems my dear friend Nicolas can trust you," Albus said without a trace of malice, but business. "You are an open-minded young man, Edward, but I'm sure you know the risks in looking up secrets. They could be harmless, lenient, trivial, but also dangerous, threatening, unstable...nonetheless, I will tell Nicolas to meet you here tomorrow."
"What makes you think I'll come?" Ed said, glowering darkly.
"I was under the impression you were here to study alchemy," Albus answered. "I'm sure you'd love the opportunity. This is, after all, Nicolas Flamel we are talking about. My word matters only your trustworthiness though. For the skill and ability, it would be you to show that and Flamel to judge."
Ed was caught off-guard at the sudden challenge Albus raised. "Yeah? I don't mind bragging about it once in a while but I became a top-notch alchemist at the age of twelve in my country. Don't think I'm just some brat wasting money to pry on someone's business."
Albus smiled once more. "I really do envy the opportunity you've taken and can take." He shook his head. "Then I wish you the fairest of luck. I have many matters to cram, deadlines due in a couple of hours..."
Ed had his eyes locked on Albus liked crab pincers. He did not blink, did not lose senses again. But suddenly, Albus, a man with glaring red hair and flowing maroon dress robes, was just not there. He vanished.
If Ed had common sense (or Al in short) he wouldn't show up tomorrow. He'd probably call the police, skipping the part where everyone had suddenly lapsed to a forgetfulness state and went on with their lives right after he had raised panic levels. But Ed was...daring, curious, and okay he's an idiot. When something like this happens, he just jumps in. It's a bad habit but if it's any consolation, he thought things through only right after he made the decision.
Nicolas Flamel was someone that MIGHT be still alive. Never mind that a legendary figure so old thought to be a fable suddenly turned up but what about Albus Dumbledore? Professor of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and sorcery? Did he just mean...magic? There were too many vague parts. It could relate to alchemy because that's how Ed got in the mess in the first place. His knowledge of alchemy. With the lack of progress so far, Ed could only see this as a golden opportunity, regardless of the ambiguity of these strangers.
He arrived the next day, this time the one waiting by the bench, facing the still lake. Ed threw away all pretense and wore his usual black outfit, adding a trench coat since it was much colder in the west. At least he'd be able to fight if things get rough.
Not too soon, Ed saw the French coming alone, no longer adorning the same shirt with the Flamel symbol, but this time wearing something closely related to the robes Albus wore. He also had a witch hat of sorts on top of his bushy brown hair.
Ed stood up. "You've got a lot of guts showing up."
Nick smiled nervously. "Yes, and it won't exactly be...without trouble." He looked around like he was afraid of being overheard. "Erm, a lot of explaining...shall we go somewhere else? Maybe to your house? Somewhere we could be more comfortable and free to speak our mind."
Ed arched an eyebrow. It did sound like a good idea to take the matters in his own place. He had expected to be taken somewhere suspicious but Nick didn't seem to have that sort of idea or thought. But Ed felt a bit unnerved how Nick was eying every corner anxiously when it should be Ed suspicious of his environment.
Even until they arrived at the apartment Ed was staying, Nick was fidgety. Only when Ed closed the door and locked it did Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Ed couldn't stand not asking any longer.
"What's wrong?" Ed asked.
Nick didn't seem to have heard him. He was looking at the studio room, littered with scattered papers and books, chalks and markers, dotted with crumpled papers, and walls pasted over by research clippings. While the kitchen looked remotely clean and even unused, the rest looked like it had a disastrous typhoon that hit it. Ed didn't look slightly abashed at the mess.
"This won't do well," Nick commented. "How would you know if someone broke in and look through your house?"
"Are you really Nicolas Flamel?" Ed asked.
Nick gingerly took a seat, flipping through casually the notes on the table. "What do you know about Nicolas Flamel?"
"Not a lot," Ed admitted, but not swayed. "I heard he was the greatest alchemist in history, the one who was able to reach the alchemist's dream: immortality. The creation of the red stone, the elixir of life, the panacea...the Philosopher's Stone."
"Hmm. A bit too vague. I can't say I'm really the Nicolas Flamel you're thinking," Nick said. The end of his lips tugged to a smile as if he found something funny. "This is a pretty lousy work you have here."
Ed's cheeks reddened, rendered temporarily speechless and unable to comprehend. No one had ever criticized his research work, not even Al or his master.
"I-I'm still studying it!" Ed said angrily. He was still standing by the door while Nick just browse through his stuffs like he owned the place. "And don't change—"
Nick sighed dramatically, shaking his head as he browsed further. "Really, really, lousy. Very disjointed and...a complete mess. I'm sorry, but are you really an alchemist?"
Before Nick could go through other pages, he flew right off his chair and hit the floor, sending papers flying away like frightened birds upon impact. A stinging red mark was on his cheek and his jaw felt broken. His hat had dropped off elsewhere.
"What was that for, you barbaric Muggle!" Nick shouted, scrambling back to his feet. "Can't you take criticisms? Ooh, don't tell me. Back home, you're the best one around. Always showered with praise, told you got talent. So you think you're good enough. Got big headed since everyone approved and you decided the world's—"
"I told you," Ed interrupted evenly, his golden eyes steady like steel. "Don't change the subject."
Nick rubbed his swollen cheek and rotated his jaw to test the damage. He hissed in pain. "Aren't we here to talk about alchemy?" he asked impatiently. "I thought I'd give you a chance since you sounded you liked alchemy that much. I'm starting to think your way of showing appreciation is downright rude."
But Ed rolled his eyes like Nick complaining about getting punched in the face was as trivial as whining from a paper cut. "I don't really know what's to appreciate with you coming in and telling me my work sucks! Tell me who you really are or I'm going to redden that other cheek of yours."
Nick became slightly nervous. "W-well now, no need for violence!" He cleared his throat and looked around once more. "Maybe this was a mistake after all. I don't see what the point is staying around." Nick looked at Ed warily.
"Don't you dare," Ed said.
"Dare what?"
"That...stick in your robes. You're going to—"
"Obli—"
Ed ducked, vanishing in a split-second, speeding toward the robed man, and bringing his right leg up. He pinned the man's hand on the floor, the stick rolling away from the fingers as Nick howled in pain, cursing in what sounded like French. Ed relinquished Nick from his grip and instead went over to the stick then placed his metal foot inches above it.
"No! Not my—"
Snap.
"...wand."
"I don't like being messed around," Ed growled. "I already know what you're trying to do. You're the one thinking you're so big, that I'm just a small little ant you think you could manipulate into believing. You're obviously underestimating me but I don't just put up with what you throw at me."
Nick was red in the face that Ed thought he was about to explode. He was still clutching his wrist, trying to suppress the pain. For a long while, there was silence between them as Nick's face slowly relaxed. Ed said nothing and offered him a glass of water, which Nick drank hungrily. He said a quick thanks, which Ed took the sign that Nick was finally going to talk. He only waited for him to do.
Nick got back up and sat on the chair. He looked through the notes on the table again but his expression stated no mocking but sharpness.
"No matter how I look at it," Nick finally said. His eyes were on the papers. "This is no good. No good at all."
Ed waited for Nick to keep on talking but he relished in the silence comfortably. Ed promptly sighed. He decided not to insist on Nick's identity. For now.
"Alchemy back in my country was an application, not a discipline," Ed explained. "The western alchemy I found is just too different. I've never even read of it before and to be honest, I have no idea what the point is. I've been trying to see if I could decode it in case the author wanted to mislead the reader."
"No, no, what you read is the truth. Most alchemists do encode their work but I doubt you'd find their work in just any libraries. I'm afraid what you've been looking through is trash."
There was a minute of silence for Nick's words to sink in when Ed eventually growled in frustration and plopped down the floor.
"Two and a half years of looking and finding nothing," Ed said dully. Nick looked at him pityingly. A pregnant silence filled between them. Neither of them spoke until Ed breathed in heavily and sighed, sitting right up. "Okay, so you have something I can work with then?"
"Work with?" Nick asked, bemused.
"Well, since you're saying the books are useless, then you must know something. Any hints or even the tiniest detail that I might start with."
Nick blinked, surprised. "You sure you're all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Ed said.
"I thought, just now, er, never mind then."
Ed grinned wildly. "No point mulling over the past. Got to move on. So, what's next?"
Nick glanced around the room. "Is all of this research on western alchemy?"
"Yeah."
"Could you show me what your research is back in...er, your country?"
"Amestris," Ed said, standing up. He pulled his coat and threw it away, rotating his right shoulder. There was that trademark grin on his face again. A smirk that was just determined and confident to make the impossible possible. "And I'd be happy to. Be sure to keep up. I'm not slowing down for you."