Another chapter! This one was easy to rewrite - I didn't have much to change.

Thanks, everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited.

(Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or HP.)

Don't Question the Thing

Ed walked into Mustang's office, where the Colonel sat at his desk, elbows on the surface, fingers laced together, and a smirk on his face. "The Fuhrer has a mission for you, Fullmetal," he told Ed smugly.

(After the events of the Promised Day, a new Fuhrer had been appointed - Grumman, who used to be Roy's superior officer. Major Edward Elric, though he didn't know it, was being lined up for promotion, as was Colonel Roy Mustang.)

The blonde flopped down onto the couch and gave Mustang a lazy glare. "What is it?"

"You've been assigned to a school-" Mustang took a moment to stifle a snigger, "-for magic."

Ed laughed so hard that he fell off of the couch. Teary-eyed, he asked, voice full of mirth, "You really thought I'd believe that? You had me woken up for that?" He got to his feet and strode over to the door, hands in pockets.

Before he could even bring one out to open the door, it opened and Fuhrer Grumman, smiling, stepped in. "I'm afraid it's not a joke, Major Elric. You're being sent there as part of a diplomatic representative of Amestris. The wizarding community is powerful and we could use their power."

"You're not going alone, Major," he continued, fixing his gaze on Colonel Mustang, who had been trying to hide his amusement. "Colonel Mustang will be accompanying you in order to finalize ties with their Ministry and to teach alchemy at the school."

Mustang's expression now matched Ed's.

"A representative from the school will come for you at two. I'll be expecting monthly reports, and your assessments will still take place. It's all been arranged with the school."

Fuhrer Grumman swept out of the office.

Ed turned to Mustang, grinning. "What were you saying?"

Mustang glared at him and snapped, "Midget."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING MICROSCOPIC, BASTARD?!"

. . .

At two o'clock, Ed was lounging on the couch in Mustang's office, a small suitcase resting at his feet. Mustang, Riza, Al and Armstrong (who was sobbing dramatically) were gathered in the room as well.

Having been briefed on the details of the mission, Ed muttered, "How the hell are we supposed to get to England, anyway?"

He was answered with a loud crack! as a large, grey-haired man appeared out of nowhere. He blinked a few times and glanced around.

The man jumped, startled, when Ed jumped up, fists ready, shouting, "What the hell?!" Mustang let out a string of curses, and Riza raised her gun to the ready.

When his wondering eyes landed on Mustang, he smiled broadly. "You must be Colonel Roy Mustang. I'm Horace Slughorn, from the school." Horace extended a pudgy hand, which Mustang took. "I've heard about a certain Major Edward Elric…" he peered around before his eyes landed on Armstrong. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Major Elric!" Horace lifted a hand towards the muscular blonde.

"Hey!" Ed exclaimed, "I'm Edward Elric!" He waved his arms, glaring at Horace and Mustang, the latter of whom was silently chuckling.

"Oh!" the wizard said, frowning, "Aren't you a bit young?"

"DAMMIT, I'M FIFTEEN!"

"Oh," he said again, this time without surprise, "Well, then, I see. Er, shall we go, then?"

"Wait!" Al called, "Can I say goodbye?"

His brother, in the three months since he'd gotten his body back, had put on enough muscle and gained enough strength to journey to Central and see his brother off.

"Er, well, I suppose," Horace said.

Al swept Ed up in a stiff hug. "I'll miss you, brother! Make sure to write, and don't break anything, alright?"

"I won't, I don't want a wrench to the head. Please let go, Al, you're crushing me!" Ed wheezed.

He was released, only to be swept up into another hug by Louis Armstrong. "I'll miss you, Edward!" Tears streamed down Armstrong's face. He sparkled.

Meanwhile, Riza had approached Mustang with a salute, and said, "Don't do anything stupid, sir." He smirked in response. "When do I ever?"

She glared, poker-faced, at him, and he paled.

"Alright then, let's get going." Horace interrupted. "If you will," he said, holding out his arm, which Ed and Mustang hesitantly gripped.

Grinning slightly, the golden-haired alchemist looked at Al. "I'll wri-"

And with another crack! they were gone.

. . .

Ed's school books and supplies had already been paid for and picked up, courtesy of his impressive funding, including second-hand books for the five years he'd have to catch up on.

After the school representative - Horace Slughorn - had dropped them off in the shabby inn known as The Leaky Cauldron and Tom had shown them to their rooms, Mustang had been picked up by a wizard in a suit - it was for a meeting with the Ministry - and Ed had retreated to his room to read.

He and the Colonel had arrived on July 19th, and by the 27th - after far too many sleepless nights - Ed had caught up and was starting in on the sixth-year books.

The meals had been brought to them by a nosy maid, who always snuck a peek into Ed's cluttered room, nose wrinkling at the ever-increasing disarray.

When the blonde was halfway through The Essentials of Defense Against the Dark Arts (Sixth Year), he felt a sudden urge to wander outside. Reminding himself that he had a whole month to spend here, he set his book down, got dressed, and exited through the back of the inn where he'd been shown the way into what was called Diagon Alley.

The sun was shining brightly, which was a welcome change from the weather outside the last time Ed had bothered to push aside the dusty green curtains over his window. How many days ago had that been? Five?

Diagon Alley was lined with shops so different that it looked like an odd patchwork. Decrepit, faded shops leaned precariously, squeezed between tall, freshly painted buildings, and their steps were cluttered with birdcages, furniture, and fallen signs. Among this all bustled all varieties of people: impatient children trailing after flustered parents, old wizards haggling over prices at scattered stalls, and teens excitedly pulling each other along, hands full of bags.

At the end of the long street, where it branched off into two more streets, proudly stood a large, pristine building, complete with elaborate golden gilding and sturdy pillars. Awash with the warmth of sunlight, it was truly a sight to behold. Grinning like a sugar-hyped child, Ed set foot into the hubbub of the Wizarding World.

. . .

Between his books and the many fascinating things in Diagon Alley, the month passed quickly, and Ed found himself frantically shoving various things into a suitcase, letting out a constant stream of 'dammit's. Mustang, who he'd hardly seen during their all-too brief time there, had already left, leaving Ed to the mercies of his foul-tempered Ministry cab driver. The grizzled wizard was honking his horn without pause, irking the patrons of the inn's bar and only making Ed more hurried.

With a final triumphant shout, Ed got the last book into his straining bag and leapt down the stairs, landing each time with a loud thump. He jumped into the back of the cab, glaring at the driver, who returned the look with extra viciousness, but pressed his foot to the pedal.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Ed got out of the cab with unsteady legs, shaken by the driver's driving - which he was pretty sure was not within the bounds of what could be considered 'legally safe'.

It was with great relief that he watched the cab swerve away, before turning and shading his eyes against the sun, taking in the train station. Grinning, Ed stepped forward.

. . .

"Great!" James shouted, "I've got Alchemy first class!" His excitement earned stares from all over the Great Hall. Not that he cared - although, to his disappointment, Lily did not look away from her friends, with whom she was currently talking to.

"Dammit," Ed groaned, "Me too."

"Aren't you excited?" James asked, eyes shining with anticipation. He had looked forward to this since he'd told his father about the rumors of an Alchemy class. His father had smiled and told him that most people considered alchemy a dead art, but a friend of his had told him stories about the true power of alchemy - which had not been relayed to James, but that he should look forward to it all the same.

"No, because Colonel Bastard is a smug bastard. Hence the name." Yawning, Ed grabbed a muffin. James wasn't that put out, and he continued to spread jam on his toast with extreme enthusiasm.

"Lily!" James exclaimed loudly again, and everyone in the Great Hall (with the exception of the first-years and Amestrians) sighed. James Potter's undying love for Lily Evans was common knowledge. The messy-haired Gryffindor ran up to the redhead, who had risen from the table, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"I didn't see you at dinner, but never mind!" he grinned, then kneeled dramatically. "Lily Evans, will you go out with me?"

"No. Go away, James!" The ginger pulled him to his feet and pushed him back towards the Marauders and Ed. He turned to them with a disappointed groan. "Rejected again."

"What is this, the three-hundred-fiftieth time?" Sirius asked, sticking his tongue out at James.

"I thought it was the five-hundred-twelfth," commented Peter.

Ed reached for a silver jug and was about to pour himself a drink before he stopped and glared vehemently at it.

"What?" Sirius asked, who'd been keeping an eye on Ed since dinner.

"It's milk." Loathing filled Ed's voice, and James couldn't help but notice that his golden eyes were filled with a hatred that James had never seen before. It seemed like the kind of feeling you would reserve for someone who'd murdered your family, not, well, milk. Thinking about Ed's unusual eyes reminded James of the conversation they'd had earlier.

. . .

"Wake up, Ed!" James yelled, throwing open Ed's curtains. Strangely enough, the blonde was fully clothed, and still snoring, despite the noise. The black-haired teen shook Ed until the blonde groaned and opened his eyes.

"Dammit," he muttered, tears shining in his eyes, "I woke up."

Quiet for a moment, James burst out laughing. "You're about to cry over that?"

"Don't laugh at me," Ed threw a pillow at him, "It's a tragedy."

James chuckled, before Remus coughed a little.

"Oh yeah, Ed, Moony over there would like to ask you something. D'you mind?"

Ed shrugged, now cross-legged on the bed, and regretfully said, "I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again. Ask away."

Remus sighed with relief and came over to sit on the bed next to Ed's. "Are you a werewolf?"

Ed stared at him for a moment, and then exploded with laughter. "Me...a werewolf?"

Immediately the werewolf blushed a deep red. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean...er…!" This just made Ed laugh harder. After his laughter faded, Remus explained, "I just thought you were a werewolf because of your eyes…" He chuckled awkwardly.

"My eyes?" Ed asked.

"Well, a few werewolves have golden eyes," Remus said, sheepish, "It's not very common, but…It's even rarer among non-werewolves."

Ed's eyes narrowed a bit as he leaned back and smiled. "Nah, it's just something that runs in my family." His stomach growled, and he rubbed it, his expression turning sheepish. "Do you think you guys could show me to where all the food is? I'm starving!"

. . .

"Fullmetal! How are you adjusting to," Mustang's voice became very smug, "student life?" He was standing at the front of the classroom and had addressed Ed as he'd walked in shortly after James and Peter, who also had Alchemy first.

"Ha! How are you going to teach this class," Ed retorted, "without burning anything? What did Hawkeye say, 'anything stupid', right?" He flopped into a seat next to James and Peter, looking pleased with himself.

"Mate, are you really allowed to talk to your superior like that?" James whispered, running a hand through his dark hair. "And what was that about 'adjusting to student life'?"

"I haven't been to school in years," Ed told them casually, putting his feet up on the desk and pulling a notebook and pen out of his coat.

Peter gasped. "Years?!"

James whistled lowly.

"I didn't really see a point in it. We had our bastard father's books and then," he shuddered, "Izumi. The things she did to us…"

"Us?" James asked, concerned,

"My brother, Al, and I."

"Oh. What did she do?"

"A lot of things, but the one that comes most vividly to mind is when we first started training under her. She took us to an abandoned island and left us there for a month."

They were stopped from asking any more questions when Mustang clapped his hands and barked, "In case you midgets-" Ed growled, "-didn't know, I'm Colonel Roy Mustang. I'm going to be your Alchemy professor this year, which means you all-" he gestured broadly to the class, "-are now my minions."

He was met with silence.

"Does anyone have any assumptions as to what alchemy is?"

A hand was raised.

"Yes. You there." Mustang pointed to a nervous-looking Slytherin with curly black hair.

"Isn't alchemy a dead magic? The only things you could do with it was turn lead to gold - and make the Philosopher's stone," the Slytherin said, not sounding very sure of herself.

At this, both Amestrian's faces darkened with disappointment, and Mustang said, "Nearly everything about that answer was wrong. First, alchemy is a science, not a magic. It's based on chemical formulas, scientific knowledge and theories, logic, and rigid laws. Second, you can do a lot more with alchemy than make gold out of lead. That is possible, but illegal. It's bad for the economy. And the Philosopher's Stone - well, believe me when I say that it is something best left alone."

Ed watched Mustang teach, rather impressed. Who knew the smug bastard could actually handle a teaching position? But they were only so far in. Ed would've bet his arm that Mustang wouldn't be so capable later.

"Any more, probably equally idiotic, guesses?"

Silence.

"I'd better tell you all what alchemy is, then. It's a science, as I've already told you, with which you can dramatically or subtly alter a material, using natural energy." He paused, seeing a hand raised high. Sighing, he asked, "Yes?"

"Why do we need alchemy, then, if we've already got transfiguration?"

"Because, unlike magic, you don't need a pretty stick. All you need is a writing utensil - preferably chalk." Faint gasps were heard.

Smirking, as he did so often, Mustang turned to the chalkboard and began writing (Comprehension, Deconstruction, Reconstruction), narrating as he did so.

"Now, there are laws in alchemy. The first and foremost being equivalent exchange. Every alchemist knows this. We cannot gain anything without giving something of equal value in return. That's all you need to know for now. Next is the three parts of alchemy. Comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction. Do you idiots understand so far?"

"Hey, Colonel, you're not half as bad at this as I thought you'd be. I'm surprised nothing's on fire yet." Ed called.

"You will be," the Colonel said, "If you keep on interrupting, Fullmetal. Now shut up." He directed his attention back to the class, all of whom were staring at Ed like he was some sort of immense oddity - which he was. "I'll explain the individual steps. To start, comprehension, which I assume will take a while for you scientifically ignorant wizards to master. To succeed at performing alchemy, you need to have an understanding of the structure and properties of the atomic makeup of the thing you have the intent of altering, including the flow of energy through the material."

When the man paused to collect his thoughts again, James moaned quietly. "I'm already lost and we haven't even got halfway through the lesson."

"Deconstruction," the Amestrian continued, "is using energy to break down the material to a more malleable state so it's easily reconstructed into something else. And lastly, there is reconstruction, which is simply continuing the flow of energy to reshape the material. Now, you're probably trying to sort through your tiny, cluttered little teenage minds to remember when I said anything about how to direct the energy. I didn't, so stop straining your brain cells."

He turned back to the chalkboard and drew a perfect circle. " You direct the energy with an alchemical array. Different symbols correspond to different elements, so correctly drawing the array is critical. The essential part of the array is the circle, which is the main circuit through which energy flows. I'll stop here before you fry your brains, so just work on drawing perfect circles for a while."

Five minutes before class ended, Mustang shouted, "Stop! You're done, brats. To satisfy your puny brains, I'll demonstrate some alchemy."

Immediately the class perked up, with the sole exception of Ed, who was leaning precariously back in his chair and snoring lightly.

Mustang snapped his fingers, sending a blossom of flame into the air. A chorus of 'whoa's and 'cool's was heard as the students watched excitedly.

Someone raised their hand, and blurted out, "Sir - Colonel - how'd you do that without an array?"

"I didn't. Instead of drawing an array each time you'd like to manipulate matter, many alchemists have an area of specialty and have specific arrays either tattooed into their skin or embroidered onto clothing, like my gloves." He showed the arrays on the backs of his gloves.

"Now get lost, idiots. Class dismissed."

I'm proud of the way that ended. Again, thank you for reading, and please review!

See y'all later!