CHAPTER 2
Hello! I'm new to this website and I have no idea how it works so I'd really appreciate it if someone could explain to me exactly how the beta system works here and how you can add a page break for the website. Thank you!
Oh and Harry Potter and Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood belong to J.K Rowling and Hiromu Arakawa respectively, please don't sue me!
...
When the three days had been up, he had met at a train station with this old man named Dumb door or something of the sort. His beard had been ridiculously long, shining silver in the rays of the morning sun. His twinkling eyes had unnerved Ed. Under the layers of friendliness and humor he could see the broken remains of a warrior, and from beneath the door, a power rivalling that of a homunculi slowly seeped out, slowly suffocating him in it's presence. There was something about the way that he carried himself, the way that his face crumpled into a smile that reminded him of himself. And that frightened the blonde incredibly. This man had seen things that no man should have; had gone through terrifying times, looked at death straight in the face, and done deeds that he would never forgive himself for ever again.
And despite the incredible difference in age, Ed felt as if he was looking at a reflection of himself. This man was suffering. He was suffering from his mistakes, his past; his very brain was torturing him with flashes of the past he desperately tried to run away from. Still he plastered a smile over everything to become a mystery to everyone around him. But for Edward, no, he could see the older's very life slip between his eyes. And he could relate to the pain he felt deep beneath the layers of torn up lies. And that scared Ed much more than anything else could have.
In a way, this old man reminded him of Hohenheim, Mustang even. It distressed him that he could think of so many people that this old man could relate to, who shared this torturous hell.
He'd sighed sadly then, quietly shaking the man's hand. Letting his mask crumble, he'd let himself stare at the man with his sad, broken eyes, whispering a sentence that had sent the man's soul into chaos.
"It seems we're all just broken dolls now huh?"
The old man's eyes had widened, his masks crumbling to dust around as his face crumpled into complete horror, shock, and just the simple, broken mess he was.
And there, within that bustling, crowded station, the two stared into each other's shattered eyes and quietly acknowledged the other as fellow prisoners.
They were all prisoners to the fangs of the monster called life.
…
After he had been dropped off at the "Leaky Cauldron" which was apparently a pub and the entrance to "Diagon Alley", he had tramped inside the worn place, glancing at the peeling walls and the few people with hoods distrustfully glaring at him.
He had then made his way to the bar stool, asking the bartender, Tom who also seemed to be sizing him up before, apparently deciding that he could be trusted, for a room for one.
Tom quietly asked him for some Galleons, the currency in the wizarding world. When he had simply handed over a few of the golden coins that Dumb door had given him, Tom had just nodded mutely, leading him up the stairs to a small, moderately clean room.
The entire way through the pub, every single person he'd passed had grimaced at him suspiciously, their conversations pausing as he passed, cold eyes following up the stairs.
And he expected no less. After all, this country was at war. He would have been surprised if the people here weren't acting like that. Even wizards, (and alchemists) were human.
He collapsed onto his bed, going over the many different things he had learned the past few days. This magic thing was dangerous, unpredictable, and different. He had seen nothing like it before.
He sighed imagining a war with those pointy sticks and shooting lights.
That would be hell.
But in the meantime, he would immerse himself into the vast world of books to learn everything from 1st year magic to 7th year magic in a single month.
…
Harry snored loudly, face smushed against the cold window at his side, having fallen asleep on it after countless hours of continuous staring down at the dark, lifeless street.
His glasses were askew on his nose and a small trickle of drool ran down his cheek. His breath let out small puffs of misty fog onto the window pane, a circle of gray reflecting off of the dull lampposts standing outside in the chilly air.
The orange glare of the lights washed Harry's face away of any color, leaving him ghostly pale under his shock of black hair.
Next to the sleeping figure, the room was messy, objects thrown haphazardly, the ground a maze of rubbish and possessions. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers covered the floor, a pile spell books hastily stacked upon each other amongst the tangle of robes on his bed. A mess of crinkled newspapers lay in a pool of light on his rickety desk. One headline read in thick, bold letters: HARRY POTTER : THE CHOSEN ONE?
Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.
"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything" said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.
Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.
Though Ministry spokes wizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. page2, column 5)
Next to this one, a second one had been flipped over that the headline was only just visible:
SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE
Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lion-like mane of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving - the man was waving at the ceiling.
Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office.
Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)
To the left of this paper sat yet another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title: MINISTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS' SAFETY was visible
Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this autumn.
"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School.
Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, "My grandson, Neville - a good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the Death Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and -
But the rest of this paper was covered by a large bird cage, a majestic snow white owl scanning its mesmerizing amber eyes around the room to land on its owner. A few times, she would click her beak impatiently in the direction of the young boy, but Harry was much too deeply asleep to hear his pet.
In the middle of the room sat a giant trunk, it's lid thrown open as it waited there almost expectantly, mostly empty save for the few articles of old underwear, empty ink bottles, and quite a few broken quills littering the very bottom.
Close to the trunk, there lay a purple leaflet, words baring up at the bare ceiling above.
-ISSUED ON BEHALF OF-
The Ministry of Magic
PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES
The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.
1. You are advised not to leave the house alone.
2. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen.
3. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition.
4. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2).
5. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4).
6. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.
7. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY.
Harry grumbled in his sleep, his face sliding down the window an inch or two, causing his glasses to become even more lopsided than it had been before.
A cracks alarm clock, repaired by Harry only just a few hours earlier ticked on loudly on the sill, showing just one minute 'till it stroke eleven.
Besides it, underneath of the palm of Harry's hand lay a piece of parchment absolutely covered in thin, slanted writing.
Harry had read this letter so frequently that, even though it had been delivered 3 days ago in a rather tight roll, it now layed almost flat on the table.
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Even though he had read it so many times that he knew it by heart, Harry couldn't help but send glances down at his clock every few minutes since 7 am that morning.
Although he had read the letter, Harry had made almost no move to pack for the Burrow, not being able to face the possibility that he might not be able to go for whatever reason, his mind supplying him with multiple ideas of how he could be forced to stay in the hell called Private Drive.
Outside the window, a lamppost flickered, and then went out. Startled, Harry bolted awake, gazing out the window in confusion as the clock hit 11.
Outside the window, Harry caught the sight of billowing long robes.
Harry leaped to his feet, eyes jumping to the unpacked trunk in the middle of his room.
He quickly raced around the room, desperately grabbing what he needed and shoving them in his trunk without processing what it was that he was throwing in.
The doorbell rang, and his uncle stomped to answer it, annoyed at whoever was ringing at such an ungodly hour.
Harry froze, realizing that he had not warned the Dursleys of Dumbledore's visit.
He raced down the stairs, heart beating out of his chest and desperately hoped that he would somehow be able to live through this chaotic night and make it to the safe haven of the Burrow.
…
Ed frowned, looking at the most recent letter that the Dumb door man had sent him.
Dear Major Edward Elric,
I have found the place in which you will be staying in for the next few months until the start of the school year. It is called the Burrow, and it is home to the Weasley family. It should be located on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole in Devon, England. I hope that you get there safely. I'm sure you have already read and learned about apparition, and I'm sure you can make it there.
I hope to see you on Friday.
Best of luck,
Albus Dumbledore
He looked at the letter, trying to find any kind of catch or trap in the letter, maybe even a code of some sort. When he came up with a blank, he frowned, gazing at the signature at the bottom of the paper.
So Dumb door wanted him to apparate to "the Burrow", wherever that was. He had indeed read all about apparition, but he had yet to try it. He rolled his eyes. He'd probably be fine, like the man said. He was a prodigy after all.
So he took out his newly purchased wand, waving it around like he had read, and quietly thought of the place he wanted to go.
The next moment everything was pitch black, and he was being squeezed through a tiny, tiny tunnel, his eyes popping and his ears ringing as he became lost in the chaos.
Through it all, he noticed some small passing photos, and he realized that those must be the places that he was passing, just he was passing them with such speed that they were nothing but swishing lights.
So apparition was just, somehow, them travelling at the speed of light or possibly even faster through the atmosphere. He shook his head, not able to understand how these wizards did all of this.
Apparently, shaking his head had been a bad idea, because the moment he did so, he became even dizzier than he had been before, and he desperately reached out to one of the flashing pictures when he couldn't take it anymore.
When he finally came to his senses, he was in a foggy, chilly ghost town, not a single soul in sight. The houses were boarded up and the lights flickered, wavering.
He shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him as he tried his best not to start retching on the ground.
Quietly, his ears picked up on faint voices heading his way.
He looked up, surprised, did someone live here?
As he saw two hooded figures come into view he narrowed his eyes. Whoever they were, they were suspicious. He slipped out of the alley he had been hiding in, and decided to test them. As he crossed the road, he purposely bumped into one of them, muttering something about his failed apparition under his breath, just loud enough for the other to hear him. The instant he finished talking he immediately did a nonverbal invisibility charm, becoming one with the freezing mist blanketing the small village.
The woman reeled around in shock, searching with her eyes for an Ed that was no longer there.
When she finally, reluctantly turned away, Ed let out a sigh of relief and turned to follow these two hooded wizards, questions running through his mind.
What are they doing here?
What are they hiding?
Are they these Death Eaters that everyone is talking about?
He narrowed his eyes as he ran through the fog silently, masking his clanking steps, listening in to their conversations.
From his hiding spot, he heard the word "Dark Lord".
He gasped quietly to himself. So they were followers of that Moldywarts guy!
They were, seemingly arguing about someone that one of them wanted to go to help for, while the other disapproved.
Carefully, Ed memorized every single word in the conversation.
Suddenly, a blinding red light shone from the alleyway in which they were hidden behind.
It was a burning spell. As Ed also committed that to memory, he raced around the corner, trying to find any glimpse of the two women he'd heard, Bella and Cissy.
But they were gone, shadows dispersing into the foggy night.
He sighed as he peered into yet another alley, trying to find anything at all that might be useful. When he found nothing, he searched around for any indicator for where he was.
Finally, he came to a deadly silent street with a sign barely hanging on to a streetlamp.
It read: SPINNER'S END
Sighing, feeling strangely tense, Ed apparated himself away yet again, this time determined to get himself to the right location.
He had left just seconds before the burst of golden light down the street.
…
Oof. I hope that didn't bore you out too much. I promise, we'll get to some action scenes an humor later okay? It's not my fault that the start of my story has to start out with boring introductions and foreshadowing and shit. Anyways, I hope that you guys have some constructive feedback or something, because I really want to improve my writing.
Please give me tips on how to use this website and answer seme of my questions at the start too, if you have the time. Thank you!
