Aaaand it's chapter three! Have fun!
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, well, as uneventfully as it could get when you mix Edward Elric and magic. Aside from Alchemy, Ed had Arithmancy, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, the last of which was spent as a study hour because the professor was absent.
The next day was different. Sirius, this time, shook the blonde awake. Instead of nearly crying, Ed shouted "Dammit!"
At breakfast, James snatched up Ed's schedule, which he was carrying around in order to remember his classes.
"You have a break instead of fifth period? Great, Padfoot and Wormtail and I have it off, too! D'you wanna play some Quidditch?"
"What's that?" Ed asked, sticking a straw into a glass of juice.
"What's that? What's that?" James pressed his hand against his chest, pretending to be offended. "It's only the best wizarding sport in existence! C'mon, d'you wanna try it out?"
The blonde paused and contemplated it. It sounded fun, and he had nothing better to do; he'd already finished his homework, which took him a better part of the night. "Sure," he replied.
First period was spent in Transfiguration, which did not go well for Ed. It started bad and got worse. He was late trying to find classroom 1B, which was on the ground floor by the Middle Courtyard. By the time the blonde skidded into the classroom, Professor McGonagall had just deposited a guinea fowl on each student's desk. (They were, of course, caged.)
"You're late, Mr Elric."
"Hehe, yeah, sorry!" he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I got lost. This school is so damn big!"
"Language, Mr Elric! Sit down. Five points from Gryffindor," the professor turned her attention back to the class. "Now, take out your wands. You will be turning guinea fowl," she gestured to the large, caged birds, "into guinea pigs. The incantation is-"
Ed stood up abruptly, making his chair fall over with a bang. His eyes were wide with horror.
"What is it, Mr Elric?" McGonagall asked, half-concerned and half-irritated.
"That's twisted!" he shouted, slamming a fist into his desk. "How could you think this is okay, dammit?!"
"Mr Elric!" the professor snapped, "The guinea fowl will be perfectly fine! Allow me to demonstrate," and she waved her wand at one of the birds, nonverbally incanting. In a matter of seconds, it was a guinea pig. With another wave of her wand, the guinea pig reverted to its original state.
She'd incorrectly assumed that this would pacify Ed; a number of students had had the same problem with Transfiguration in the past and a display of the harmless process had soothed their qualms.
It did quite the opposite for Ed; now, instead of looking angry, he looked horrified. "Nina!" the blonde whispered, now seeing something the rest of them didn't, "Nina - no - it wasn't - how could he-?! That bastard!"
"Remus," Professor McGonagall addressed the werewolf, who'd been staring worriedly at the Amestrian, "could you escort Mr Elric to the hospital wing?"
Her brow furrowed with confusion and concern as she watched the brunet take Ed, who was now lost in some horrid place in his mind, by the shoulders and walk him out of the classroom. Reminding herself to discuss it with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore later, McGonagall called the class back to attention and resumed the lesson.
. . .
"Nina! NINA!" Ed's voice cracked as he jolted upright. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked around and found himself in a cot with white sheets, in a room that vaguely resembled hospitals. It was unfortunate how familiar it felt.
"Whoa, Ed, mate, you alright?" James asked. The Marauders were crowded around the foot of his bed.
"Yeah," he responded, looking rather puzzled, "Why are you here?" He'd only known the energetic, black-haired wizard for two days, so there was no reason for him to be there.
"You're a likable guy," James told him, eyes glinting mischievously, "And I reckon you'd be good for a few pranks."
Remus shoved the dark-haired wizard. "We were worried about you. Who's Nina?"
Ed's small grin fell away, and his eyes turned sad. "Just someone from a long time ago. It's nothing."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Sirius asked.
"I said, it's nothing. You wizards are damn pushy." Ed growled, then looked around once again. "Where am I?"
"The hospital wing," Peter told him (rather nervously, it seemed to be a personality trait), "Moony took you here after you flipped out in Transfiguration."
"Damn wizards, messing with natural laws," Ed muttered.
"Huh?" James asked.
"Nothing. Can I go now? I want to-"
"Fullmetal!" Colonel Mustang burst into the room, a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey trailing closely behind. "I heard about what happened in Professor McGonagall's class. Are you an idiot? We're here on a diplomatic mission, so we can't have you doing reckless things like you usually do."
"Colonel Bastard, why the hell am I supposed to attend these classes? I can't even do magic!" Ed scowled.
"Wait, you can't do magic?" Remus asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Yeah," the blonde said, "now can I go? I want to check out the library."
Madam Pomfrey tutted. "You should stay a while lon-" Mustang held up a hand. "Shorty here would sneak out anyway. Let him-"
The recent trend of being cut off lived up to its reputation when Ed yelled, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD BE CRUSHED UNDER A SHOE?!"
Mustang smirked, and Madam Pomfrey went pale. "Language, young man!"
Ed ignored her and swung his legs over the side of the bed, landing with an unnaturally heavy thump. "I'll be in the library," he announced to no one in particular. Tugging his white gloves more securely on his hands, Ed strolled out of the room.
. . .
Ed had been submerged in the library, only showing up, hurried-looking and disoriented, to his classes, before rushing off to the library again.
Somehow, Ed had at least one of the Marauders in each of his classes; Sirius in History of Magic, which Ed fell asleep in, as did the rest of the class, Peter and Remus in Potions (in which Slughorn showered Ed with praise for his skill at potion-making. When asked, he merely responded, "I understand science."), and Defense Against the Dark Arts with all of the Marauders.
Unlike the previous day, Professor Michaelis was present. Standing tall at the front of the classroom in a crisp, tieless suit, she scanned them all with keen eyes. "Today I'll be informing you of what we'll be covering over the course of the year. It has come to my attention that although you all have a thorough understanding of the spellwork required up to this year, and I will continue that line of education. Your knowledge of the Dark creatures required, however, is severely lacking. We'll spend the first two months catching up, ending with boggarts. You might want to read up on those; I've seen some wizards with incredible spell knowledge but sadly little creature knowledge brought to their knees by what they've seen. Luckily, I doubt that so early in your life you've developed such fears."
After that short speech, she passed out tests to see how advanced their knowledge was. That was most likely why she'd been absent on the first day. The rest of the class passed in silence, Professor Michaelis's icy gaze discouraging any troublemaking - for that day, at least.
. . .
"He's a bit strange," Peter said, breaking the silence that they'd been submerged in as they sat in their dorm room after dinner. Ed was still in the library.
"Who, Ed?" James asked, idly playing with a Snitch. His dark hair was messy, and he was draped haphazardly across his bed.
"Who else? You're right, Wormtail, he's weird. He can't do magic, Transfiguration makes him flip out...and who here's ever heard of Amestris?" Lounging against James's bed, Sirius was sketching on a spare piece of parchment, grinning evilly.
"How could he come here if they couldn't do magic? Why're they here in the first place?" Peter asked, twitching his fingers as he perched on his bed.
"Weren't you listening? They're here on a diplomatic mission - Amestris is a military nation and probably wants the Ministry to help them with something. Hogwarts is probably considered a place of cultural relevance, not to mention that Professor Dumbledore is an immensely powerful wizard. That's not what's odd, though," Remus flipped the page of his book absently, "I think what's odd is his reaction to transmutation, his gloves, his air of secrecy. I couldn't find anything on Amestris in the library, but I could only look for so long. Still, it's queer. Why wouldn't he tell us who Nina was? Why doesn't he ever change his clothes, or at least take off his gloves and boots?"
"Maybe he's got terrible scars. Maybe he's got bad memories about Nina - he is part of the military after all. It's perfectly explainable," Sirius said, shrugging.
"Why hasn't he been to school in years? Why does Professor - Colonel - Mustang call him Fullmetal?" Remus ignored his friend's suggestions, his curiosity overflowing.
"Why don't we ask him when he gets back?" James suggested before bursting into malicious laughter; Sirius had just shown him the rather unflattering caricatures of their professors and least favorite Slytherins (meaning: Severus Snape) that he'd drawn.
Not a moment after he said it, Ed wearily trudged in, collapsing on his bed, arms full of dusty tomes.
"How was the library?" Remus queried, shutting his book with a small sigh.
Ed was silent, then he flipped over and sat up. Yawning, he replied, "Amazing! There were so many books! Sciezka would be like a child on a sugar high!"
"Who's Sciezka?" James asked lazily, pocketing the Snitch.
"A friend back in the military. She's got photographic memory, which helped us a lot with the- never mind." Ed looked down at a silver pocket watch, eyes dark with memories.
Remus narrowed his eyes. Then he asked another question. "Why does Colonel Mustang call you Fullmetal? That's an odd nickname."
Ed paused for a moment, considering. "Well, that's a title I carry in the military. It's a long story, and I'm too tired to tell it. Besides, why do you call each other Wormtail, Padfoot, Moony, and Prongs? I'm going to sleep now. You probably need sleep, too." With that, he pulled his curtains closed around him and his pile of books.
James glanced around at his friends. When they all nodded, he got up and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from beneath his bed. In one swift movement, he had the Cloak draped neatly over the four of them, and they exited the room.
. . .
They were sitting in the Room of Requirement, which had arranged itself to look like a grassy clearing, a few trees scattered about. James was sitting on a swing, which was knotted to a sturdy tree branch. Sirius and Peter were leaning against its trunk. Remus, however, was pacing.
"He looked at me when he said it! Does he know? How could he know? It doesn't make sense..!" He ran his hands through his sandy brown hair.
James held up a hand. "You're jumping to conclusions. Calm down, Moony. It's probably just coincidence. He never even knew about magic a while ago!" He was different from his usual carefree self; his green eyes were serious and his hands were resting on the swing's ropes, white-knuckled. "It frustrates me, though! I can't figure him out! It is odd that he noticed our nicknames so soon."
The dark-haired teen turned to Sirius and Peter, flicking his glance to Remus. "Say, d'you wanna find out his secrets?"
They gave him varying responses, all positive.
"Great," he grinned, eyes shining with mischievous light.
. . .
"You will be turning these guinea fowl into guinea pigs," McGonagall said, advancing towards him. In one hand was a caged guinea fowl, the large-bodied bird squawking in alarm. With her free hand, she pulled out her wand. "The incantation is-"
McGonagall turned into Nina, tiny and cute and smiling, holding a snowball in her small gloved hands. Alexander was lounging beside her in the snow, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he surveyed his surroundings happily.
"Big brother!" she called eagerly. "D'you wanna play?" She held up the snowball eagerly, eyes shining with excitement.
"Sure," he replied, a mix of nostalgia, sadness, and warmth swirling in his chest. He crouched down, balling snow in his hands. "Let's play, Ni-"
"Play?" she asked again, voice broken. "Big brother, play?"
Breath catching, heart hammering frantically, Ed looked up. His golden eyes widened with horror as he saw her, or rather, what her father had made her into. A large white dog with a long, trailing mane of dark hair, eyes full of fear and innocent cluelessness.
"N-Nina," he breathed, "Nina!" They were still in the snow, cold seeping into Ed's knees. It crawled up his skin, filling him with an icy feeling.
"Don't you see, Ed? We're the same!" Shou's voice rang out from behind him. The golden-haired alchemist spun around immediately.
"No, we're not, you bastard!" Ed raced towards him, fury pushing him quickly across the snow. He swung his fist up, preparing to punch him.
The man fell down in a burst of blood, sprawled out in a blossom of red. Thunder crashed, and Nina/Alexander appeared next to Shou, white fur stained a horrid rust-crimson color. Ed pulled in a sharp, shaky breath. "Dammit! Dammit!"
"Ed!" At first he didn't recognize the voice. "Ed! Ed! Ed, wake-"
His eyes snapped open. "-up!" James was leaning over him, hands on his shoulders. "You okay, mate? You were shouting in your sleep…"
"I was?" Ed asked blearily, "Huh."
"Hey, we never got to play Quidditch yesterday. Wanna try it out during lunch?"
Ed turned his head towards him, hand on his forehead. "Why not?" Then he shrugged and stood up.
Spurred on by a spurt of reckless curiosity, James rushed forward to catch up to the golden-haired teen. "Hey, Ed, why do you wear those gloves?"
Questions are being asked, nightmares are being had, oh, let the games begin!
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Ciao!
