Body Snatcher

Ellersway

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Fullmetal Alchemist. :( Lame, I know.

This story is AU after Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and episode 51 of Fullmetal Alchemist.

(Chapter 1 re-written from June 27th  July 4th 2009)

III

Return to Grimmauld Place

Harry woke up on the morning of August 30th in a cold hard sweat. A glance at the clock on his windowsill told him it was three in the morning, and the sky outside was still and black as pitch. Panting heavily, he ran a hand through his long, matted hair. The dreams had been bad tonight; the word 'brother' still echoed between his ears and his skull throbbed with the scream that was bottled there.

Shit. He thought he was past this.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his stale clothes, jeans and shirt crumpled by sleep- a welt forming on his chest where his belt had pressed into him as he lay on his stomach. For the past few days, Harry had managed to sleep dreamlessly- it was a strange anomaly- though not at all unappreciated. However, tonight marked a return to the violent cycle of nightmares that had marred his nights for the past few months. Tonight Harry had been in the basement.

(the blood- the boy- the rotting-)

The dream- however, had been interrupted. Harry never made it passed the greedy fire that consumed his leg, because something woke him up- a noise that pierced the veil of sleep to drag him back to the waking world. His mind still spun with the contents of his dream, scientific equations running in bright streams across his eyelids, twisting themselves to form circled and sigils that weighed on his consciousness and made Harry's head ache. For a second- Harry racked his mind to remember what it was that had disturbed his nightmare, but his thoughts were interrupted when a loud bang and scuffling noise broke the silence-

"Ow-shhhhhh…" came a pained cry, abruptly cut short by the low sibilant sound of hushed voices; they were muffled, and Harry struggled to pick out words from the dim hum. Now he could hear footsteps on the landing.

"Wait." A voice said, hoarse- as if from a cough or too much screaming. Suddenly there was silence. The footsteps stopped. "Did you hear that?"

"What- they outside already?" A distinctly female voice chimed- louder now, as if she'd forgotten to whisper.

"- No- I mean, I think we woke him up."

There was a soft grunt, and a third, gruff voice added, "Good, we've got to get the boy out as quickly as-"

"- and how long do we actually have?"

"Not enough time to waste standin' around yappin', come on- let's move."

The hinges of Harry's bedroom door rattled, and he jumped out of the bed- reaching for his wand and pointing it at the trembling wood, curse already half-formed on his lips. The movement stopped- and Harry heard the word 'Alohomora' uttered quietly, stifled through the timber, and a pale light sifted through the gaps in the door- forming tiny little hands which grabbed at the crude chain and eyelet Harry had used to lock his room, pawing at the hook, until the chain swung free. The door flew open.

"Harry!"

Outside stood Tonks, Lupin and Moody, and for a second Harry wondered why he hadn't recognised their voices. The smile on the face of the violet-haired Auror faded slightly when Harry didn't lower his wand.

The boy narrowed his eyes. "What did Sirius post me when you were teaching at Hogwarts?" It was vague enough not to give any clues, but specific enough to catch out anyone who didn't know him personally. Harry would have asked about Wormtail, but that could've been common knowledge amongst the death eaters by now.

Tonks glanced nervously up at Remus, whose face was obscured by the darkness of the corridor.

"Your Firebolt, Harry, Christmas of your third year; I think Sirius was trying to make up for lost time. Unfortunately Minerva confiscated it because we had to have it checked and stripped. Ron was quite devastated, if I remember rightly." There was something soft in his voice as he spoke, and Harry winced.

"Right-" he mumbled, "- sorry… I just thought I should-"

"Shouldn't be sorry about it lad," Moody barked- cutting him off before pushing in front of him to peer through the gap in the window curtains. "Constant vigilance." The Auror started to mutter spells- systematically pointing his wand at random places in the room. Harry watched him dumbfoundedly, the edges of his mind still dulled by sleep. Behind him, Tonks followed the grizzly man's lead while Remus checked his watch in measured intervals.

"Uh…" Harry began. "So, what are you doing?"

There was a pause, his statement hanging unanswered in the morning air and each of the figures seemed to ignore his question- still absorbed in their own tasks. But before Harry could ask again, Tonks turned to face him.

"Gotta get your stuff together Harry. Rumour has it old Snake-Face is planning an attack sometime soon and we-"

"We have reason to believe that your current… residence may not be entirely secure." Lupin added, eyeing Harry's room with distaste. Harry blushed in the darkness and followed the whites of the werewolf's eyes to where his gaze rested on the cat flap in the door- his eyes narrowing at the sight of the four remaining broken bolts that were screwed at random above the outer handle of the door, lame and useless; left broken- (partially because of his Uncle's indolence) as a reminder of his imprisonment all those years ago. Thankfully Remus didn't ask, though his silhouette visibly tightened.

Suddenly Harry felt a cold hand grab his, and Tonks pulled him over to his trunk. "Come on!" She said, scooping great handfuls of books and parchment haphazardly into his trunk. Harry blinked, and hurriedly stuffed his wand into his pocket before prizing open the loose floorboard with his fingers. Fumbling with the slim wooden panel he winced as a splinter lodged itself firmly under his nail; shaking his hand he slammed it against the floor- and the floorboard flipped open.

Tonks looked up from the trunk expectantly- but Harry didn't notice- oblivious to her curiosity. Carefully he reached into the rectangular crevice, and gently- as if handling a piece of precious glass, he pulled out a brown package- perfect but for the small, hairline rips that betrayed it's previously-opened state. He cradled the package in the crook of his arm like a baby, before collecting up some of his other belongings and replacing the panel. Silently he placed the items- along with the package- into his open trunk and closed the lid. Abandoned on his desk lay his OWL results, Harry crumpled up the letter and stuck it in his pocket.

Tonks frowned, "Is that everything?" she said. "Where are your clothes?"

Harry cringed and shrugged lamely, not really wanting to tell her that he was wearing them. "No, that's everything." The vibrant young woman looked like she wanted to protest further, and her cherry-painted mouth opened and closed like a fish, her brows furrowing.

Lupin cut her off before she could speak, however. "Portkey's valid in five; we need to get to the apparation point." He angled his wrist so that Tonks could see what was written on the watch. There were no numbers on the watch-face and it only had one hand- which pointed to a small marker denoted by the words 'Five minutes to go, don't be late!', this was in turn nestled comfortably between 'Times approaching, keep an eye' and 'Right on Time!'. With a nod, the colourful Auror grabbed his trunk by the handle, and started to pull it through the door.

Moody turned away from the window with a rumbling- "We're going now." – and Harry, feeling more than slightly bewildered, felt himself being ushered towards the door and out onto the landing.

"Wait!" He said. "What about the Dursleys? I mean… you said there was going to be an attack-"

"Don't worry, Harry." Remus said, his voice hoarse yet strangely soothing to the boy's ears. "Your relatives are going to be fine. This is just a precaution." Harry tried not to notice the way the man stumbled over the word 'relatives', which came out in a guttural growl. Instead Harry just nodded dumbly, lethargy creeping in at the edges of his vision. He spared a glance back up the stairway and wondered how his family were sleeping through this racket, his trunk slamming against each step as they descended down the stairs. As if reading Harry's mind, Tonks pointed her wand at the luggage with a flourish and a hushed 'silencio'.

Quietly now, the four made their way to the front door where Harry could see a few more dark, smeared figures through the frosted glass. Opening the door with a small click, Harry recognised the cloaked men as Order members. Kingsley turned to look at him and with a motion of his hand the Aurors formed a tight-circle around him and started to push him hurriedly up the path. Throwing one last glance up at the Dursley's bedroom window, he wondered how long it would take them to notice he was gone. Silently the wizards swept past the wilting birch tree and to the end of the road where Harry had witnessed them come and go for the last few months, the entourage stopped under a lamp post which flickered and died, plunging them into complete darkness. Harry let his eyes scan lazily over the area, the street slept unbeknownst of what was going on outside their houses- that said, Harry swore he could have seen a flicker of net-curtains out the corner of his eye.

Harry's musings ended abruptly as Remus drew a playing card out from his pocket, holding it out to the boy with a warm, calloused hand.

Ah, Harry thought, a portkey.

"It should activate any second." The man said, his voice barely a whisper hanging on the still night air. "Don't forget to hold on." He smiled, and Harry felt his lips curve sleepily.

There was a series of sharp cracks as some of the Order members disapparated, leaving Harry alone with Kingsley, Remus and Moody- whose eyes digested the open street around them. "They're just going on ahead," Remus said, throwing a glance at his watch. "Okay, any time now-"

Harry didn't hear the end of his sentence, because at that moment he felt the familiar tug behind his navel as the portkey activated. The card tingled warmly in his hands, and Harry shut his eyes. There was a loud rushing sound in his ears and a bright yellow light illuminated the veins in his eyelids as he struggled to keep them closed; Harry felt the world fall away beneath his feet and tensed as he waited for his landing. Without warning he felt cold, hard cement smack against his feet, and his knees buckled beneath him. Letting out a stiff groan Harry pried open his eyes, swallowing whatever had crawled up his throat. He felt a pair of small, cool hands heave him up by his shoulders, and his vision cleared to reveal Tonks' amused grin. "Wotcher, Harry."

Taking him by the arm she led him along a darkened road which Harry quickly identified as Grimmauld Place.

…Grimmauld Place… really? They were really going to take him to Grimmauld Place?

Harry felt something cold curl in the pit of his stomach. This was just about the last place he wanted to be. Though, he reminded himself, school is only three days away… I can hold out till then.

He watched as Tonks led him up the steps into the shabby looking house, the iron rail that bordered the stairs looking neglected with its rust and peeling paint. She rapped three times on the large black door and stood back as it swung open with a muffled groan, and Harry found himself being ushered quickly inside. As his feet found the floor, Harry almost expected to be swept up in one of Mrs. Weasley's unforgiving embraces- however, this was not the case, as Harry found himself standing alone in the corridor, the door swinging shut behind him with a solid clang that echoed out into the heavy silence. Tonks had disappeared from beside him and was nowhere to be seen. Harry felt himself frown. So… what was he supposed to do now?

Standing awkwardly in the dim, narrow, candlelit cloak room, he supposed he must be waiting for somebody, as the Order wouldn't really just abandon him with out a word (would they?). He let his gaze trace the trail of portraits that led up the grandiose, cramped staircase, his eyes peering determinedly upwards into the blackness that swallowed the first-floor landing. Harry repressed a shudder, and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Sniffing the air the boy gave a choking, hacking cough- the room was thick with dust, and he lifted a hand to wipe away the residue that clung to his tear ducts, the back of his throat beginning to taste like stale, moulting hippogriff.

"You all right there, Harry?" Tonks popped her head out of a door to his left, light flooding the little room. Harry blinked owlishly, the colour biting at his eyeballs. Not waiting for a reply, the little Auror pulled him into the dining room where several of the cloaked men were having a hushed conversation at the end of the table. Kingsley gave Tonks a pointed look, letting his eyes swing from her to Harry in a way that the boy felt insulting to his intelligence. Apparently they'd wanted a private conversation- and he wasn't invited. Harry could understand the need for secrecy, really he could, but he was not a child- and the Order was starting to grate heavily on his already frazzled nerves.

Sensing the rising heat that boiled beneath the boy's skin, Tonks cracked a wide (and slightly hysterical-looking) grin. "Want anything to drink Haz?" she said, ushering him towards the kitchen door (Harry was beginning to feel like a piece of luggage). "Tea? …Coffee?" she asked, the door to the dining room slamming shut behind them, "because you really don't strike me as the coffee type- hot chocolate then? God knows we've got plenty- I had make sure were all stocked up for when Remus goes all PWS and needs his chocolate fix-"

"PWS?" Harry furrowed his brows, and Tonks gave a laugh.

"Pre Werewolf Syndrome."

"Ah." He said, lips curving in amusement, and the Auror nodded enthusiastically.

"He gets through the stuff like nothing else. Seriously," she intoned in a deadpan, "now where was I? Oh yeah- what'dya want then, some hot squash? Milk?"

Harry's smile dropped.

"I think I'll just get myself a glass of water." He forced the words out, his jaw tightening as his body fought the rising urge to vomit.

The metamorphmagus pouted. "Just water?" she parroted, "Bor-ing! Do you have any idea how long it's been seen we've had a guest round here? I was all set to entertain but nooo," Tonks rolled her eyes and hitched her voice an octave higher, "you have to go and spoil my fun." She sighed heavily before spitting out the words, "Water. Sheesh." like it was some kind of disease. Harry shuffled uncomfortably, not entirely sure if she was joking.

There was a quiet pause, and- sensing that Harry was not the type to be budged- Tonks reached for a glass defeatedly. "Very well," she raised her hand to her forehead in a dramatic flourish, "as the chosen one commands. Water it is."

Harry observed as the little (though still, inevitably taller than him) woman tinkered with the sink before handing him a slightly chipped glass that was brimming with tap water. He accepted the cup eagerly and downed the whole thing in five greedy gulps. Setting the glass on the counter with a small chink- he wiped away the wetness from his face, suddenly becoming very self conscious. The drink had been especially refreshing, he didn't get them often at the Dursleys and only managed to scrounge one when his Aunt wasn't around; she didn't like his filthy hands on her glassware (or her dishes, or crockery, or even Tupperware- for that matter- and Harry's mind reluctantly fled back to the summer when he'd eaten everything out of a soup tin). Harry realised now that he had probably looked very rude and rather disgusting, chugging down the contents of his glass like a dying man. Worse still, at that moment, Harry remembered what he was wearing. He peered down with a grimace at the large, sleep-wrinkled shirt which clung to him like a sweaty second skin. Now illuminated by the harsh kitchen-light- Harry groaned, he probably looked a state. Almost certainly smelt like one too.

As if sensing his discomfort, Tonks shrugged and said, "We've moved your luggage upstairs if you want to go and change." She opened her mouth and licked her lips dryly before adding, in an apologetic voice. "You'll be staying in Sirius's old room."

Silence.

"Oh…" Harry replied, cheeks tightening with the weight of that revelation. "Oh… okay."

No. No. It's not okay. It's fucking not okay, damnit-

Harry's reply sounded pathetic, even to his own ears.

Come on Harry, a voice chimed in his head, s'just a room, don't be a weakling.

He lifted his head up to meet the eyes of the Auror who immediately shirked his gaze with a guilty expression on her face. "You sure, Harry? Cause, I mean- if it really bothers you then we could always-"

"No." His voice was tight and strained and his eyes bugged with the pressure of it. "No, it's fine."

Tonks let a hesitant smile warm her features. "Well, alright then, I'll let you go and get settled. You know where to go, right?" Harry nodded tersely. "Good, well, if you need anything…" she let the statement hang in the air, and Harry shrugged.

"I'll call."

Tonks' smile finally reached her eyes. "Cool." She said, letting him walk towards the pantry door which would lead through the large, open-plan cupboard and back out into the stairwell.

"Oh- wait a sec- I forgot to ask." Harry swivelled around, tripping on his words in haste to catch the Auror before she went back into the dining room. She turned to him expectantly. "Where are the Weasleys? I mean… they were here last year- and I know you'd tell me if something'd happened to them-" at least I hope you would "- it's just, I haven't heard at all from Ron or Hermione or…"

Tonks' smile softened. "Arthur got given a job to do which took him near Romania. The family thought it'd be a good idea to take the opportunity to visit Charlie…" (Harry pretended not to notice the way the metamorphmagus stumbled reverently over the name of the eldest Weasley son, and waited patiently for her to finish the rest of her explanation) "… I suppose it was especially convenient timing, what with all the trouble going on in this country right now. I don't blame them for wanting to get away for a while, they are targets after all-" Harry tried not to wince "- s'why they took the Granger girl with them. 'Reckon Ronald's gunna put the moves on her." She added slyly to the end. Harry didn't notice though, preoccupied with the throbbing, stabbing sensation that had suddenly gripped his chest. His friends were gallivanting around Europe together- without him- and they hadn't even bothered to tell him? His shoulders shook slightly. So they just left him home to rot, without a second thought? The glass he'd abandoned on the counter was trembling furiously now. No visit. No contact. No letter. No nothing-

Harry was wrenched from his reverie by a shrill crack that rang through the air as the abandoned tumbler exploded outward. Fiery slivers of glass rained down violently on the pair and both of them shut their eyes tightly.

"Shit Haz!" Tonks yelped, ducking underneath her arm. "Scourgify!"

The shards of glass dissolved into nothingness, and Harry felt something warm and wet slide down his cheek.

"Oh! You're bleeding." She said, concern creeping into the edges of her voice.

"It's nothing, it's-"

Harry's embarrassment increased tenfold as Kingsley burst through the kitchen door- wand ready and poised to fight. "What happened?" The man said, his voice deep, eyes scanning the area like a hawk. "I heard a noise."

"It's nothing." Tonks echoed Harry's earlier defensive reply. "We just had-" she picked her words carefully "-an accident. That's all, nothing to worry about."

The large man gave a soft, rumbling 'hrn', and Harry felt himself wanting to shrink under his condescending gaze- except the man wasn't actually looking at him- in fact, he barely seemed to acknowledge Harry's presence at all. Flicking his wand in the direction the pantry door, Kingsley turned to face Tonks. "Perhaps it would be best if the boy were to retire for the night."

Harry's eyes narrowed as the man gestured from him to the exit without sparing him so much as a glance. He felt the anger which had been startled out of him by the explosion flood back in full force, the word 'boy' ringing red in his ears.

'Perhaps' it would be 'best' if I shoved that wand right up your-

"Harry was just about to go, weren't you Harry?" Tonks said with apologetic eyes.

"Sure." He all but snarled, stalking through the doorway to the pantry with a low growl. Dodging the condiment-lined walls he exited through the other side to come out into the stairwell. He wiped the blood off his face with a furious flick of his palm, wincing as his fingers rubbed at the aggravated skin. His palm came back red; the wound was deeper than he thought.

Shame washed over Harry in a stifling blanket of heat. Accidental magic was something children did- and anyone, with even any remote semblance of control over their magic would be able to prevent it. To lose control as a student going into their sixth year of Hogwarts was kind of mortifying.

But then…

Harry didn't know if he could really judge himself by the same standards as other wizards. So far, he'd proven himself to be an anomaly in pretty my every way possible, so it stood to reason that for him… the normal rules might not always apply…

Groaning softly, Harry made his way up the cramped staircase, being careful not to disturb the volatile portraits on the wall; he could see why Sirius had hated this place, the whole atmosphere was heavy and oppressive. Thick red velvet drapes hung above the sleeping portraits, punctuated by yellow tassels that brushed the edge of the skirting board deftly. Harry walked quickly for the most part, yet his journey seemed to extend forever, and Sirius' room was at least three floors up. Harry found his pace slowing as his feet finally hit the fourth floor landing. The earthy smell of hippogriff was stronger up here; perhaps, Harry thought, they still keep Buckbeak in the attic. The boy walked silently across the landing, candles lighting the dark trail of footprints that his feet left in the dust, and as he approached the door Harry felt his heart reel with dread- his limbs feeling like heavy metal- as though they'd sink through the floor at any given moment. Slowly, he ghosted a hand over the brassy handle of the door; it had once been gold, a long time ago, but since then the precious, neglected leaf had worn away in places to leave a red handprint on the doorknob. Harry flexed his fingers- wound them round the handle- and twisted.

The door gave way with little more than a small crack and a groan, leaving Harry free to step silently into the room. The room was dark, with candlelight licking at the walls and furniture all a dark shade of blackened mahogany; it was still, too- as if nothing had been displaced since Sirius had left. Harry turned to the bed, tiredness biting at his vision- but was disturbed at what he found there.

On the bed, Kreacher was tugging at Harry's luggage, scrambling with the lock.

"What are you doing?" Harry blurted, and two lamp-like eyes fixed him in their vision.

"Nasty. Nasty nasty nasty mudblood stealing our house from our mistress, yes." The voice was high and grating- and Harry fought the urge to pull his hands up around his a few steps forward, Harry reached for his trunk with a lunge towards the bed. Kreacher froze mid-scowl.

"Ohohoh-" the little elf's voice came out in a gasping, breathy whine. "Oh- oh-ohohohohohoh…"

Harry wrapped a cautious hand around the handle of his trunk. "What?" He bit out, but the creature didn't stop.

"Ohohohoh-ohoh-ohohoh…"

"What is it?" Harry frowned, the elf not listening. His anger was returning now, the events of the evening having worn his temper right into the ground. Kreacher was an easy target, really. "Look I'm not even touching you-"

"Oh- oh- OHOHOH- oh!"

"STOP IT!!" Harry yelled, the drapes of the bed shuddering under his grip.

The house elf quivered. "Don't hurt us Devil Eyes! Don't hurt us please!" His voice was a breathless wheeze as he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet, "Devil eyes… devil eyes…" he skittered, disappearing with a pop.

Harry blinked- rage dissipating slightly, before heaving himself up on to the bed. Sleep beckoned to him enticingly, but Harry didn't want to go to bed in these stale, sweat-soaked clothes. Trotting over to one of the drawers, he peeled off Dudley's school shirt, letting his sticky back cool as flesh met open air. Rolling the muscles in his shoulders back, he opened the top draw.

Nothing. The draw was empty, so Harry tried the next one. Nothing. Bugger. Checking all the draws in turn, Harry quickly found that the only clothes stocked in the room were a couple of child's wizarding robes, (the man hadn't been kidding then, when he said the Black's had tried to remove all traces of him when they burnt him off the tree). Swivelling around, Harry scouted the area for something to wear. It wasn't like the man had run about naked or anything. Slowly Harry's eyes settled on a dark pile next to the rumpled bed that hardly stood out against the darkened grain of the floor. They were clothes… clothes for sleeping, dumped carelessly on the floor and Harry almost smiled, wanting to kick himself for thinking that Sirius could ever be tidy enough to put things in a chest of drawers.

I suppose he didn't want to get too settled, Harry thought, eyeing another pile of clothes that were draped across a chair, after all, he'd always been so set on leaving…

"Don't think about it." Harry stopped himself. No good came of reliving the promises they'd made to each other over the last three years. "Don't even go there."

Slowly the boy pulled off his jeans and his rugged underwear, letting them fall in their own little heap on the floor, and he reached out for the pair of navy bottoms that Sirius had left there- forgoing a shirt in the stifling summer heat. Harry was about to crawl into the bed when a piece of crumpled white caught his gaze. Out of his pocket had fallen his OWL results letter (which read as follows):

Mr. Potter
Enclosed are your O.W.L results, the calculation system for your final score is as follows.

O Outstanding 3 O.W.L
EE Exceeds Expectations 2 O.W.L
A Acceptable 1 O.W.L
P Poor 0 O.W.L
D Dreadful 0 O.W.L

You have achieved the following:
Potions: ( Practical: O Theory: EE) Overall: O
Transfiguration: ( Practical: O Theory: EE) Overall: O
Charms: ( Practical: O Theory: O) Overall: O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: ( Practical: O+ Theory: O) Overall: O+ (4 O.)
Astronomy: ( Practical: P Theory: A) Overall: A
Herbology: ( Practical: EE Theory: EE) Overall: EE
Divination: ( Practical: D Theory: P) Overall: P
History of Magic: (exam to be rescheduled)
Care of Magical Creatures: ( Practical: O Theory: O) Overall: O

Overall O.W.L Score: 19

Dear Mr. Potter,
I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your exceptional O.W.L results. You qualify for the following subjects:

N.E.W.T Potions
N.E.W.T Transfiguration
N.E.W.T Charms
N.E.W.T Defence Against the Dark Arts
N.E.W.T Herbology
N.E.W.T Astronomy
N.E.W.T Care of Magical Creatures

Please fill out and return the form below as to your preferred choice of subjects at N.E.W.T level. You should receive a letter containing a list of the necessary books and equipment in shortly after.
Also note that your History of Magic exam has been rescheduled for the 14th of June in the coming year.
Enjoy the remainder of the holidays.

Sincerely,
Professor McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The irony of the situation was- that despite having sent him this letter, the choices as to the subjects he was taking in his sixth year had already been made by the headmaster. Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to choose exactly what he'd be studying without giving Harry any input onto the matter whatsoever. Furthermore, Harry hadn't even been told what he'd be doing- let alone been allowed to actually go out and buy his course materials. No, the Order- it seemed- had taken care of everything.

(But who was taking care of Harry?)

Harry resolved that he would ask Remus tomorrow if he knew what Dumbledore had decided for him, and let himself sidle away from thoughts of yet another uncomfortable topic.

Heaving himself up onto the elevated four-poster-bed, the springs of the mattress groaned in protest; wasting no time (as he was sure he could already see a hint of citrine permeating the crimson velvet of the window curtains), Harry slid himself between the cool, rumpled sheets letting his head drop down onto the pillow.

Ouch.

Harry blinked. Instead of sleep-tempting softness, Harry's head had collided with something cold and hard tucked inside the pillowcase. Reaching an exhausted hand up to the slit in the cover, he fumbled to get his fingers inside it; slowly his fingertips brushed the smooth surface of something seamless, gilded and metal- and carefully he managed to extract it from the cloth it was wound in.

In the darkness it was had to make out what it was, but one flick of his hands caused the whole object to catch the light and-

Harry dropped it as if scolded.

The mirror.

The mirror.

Sirius's mirror.

There was a pause, and slowly- as if approaching a coiled viper- Harry let his fingers wind around the handle.

The mirror.

It was beautiful, an identical replica of the one that Sirius had given to Harry all those fateful months ago. Only… Harry remembered then that their mirrors differed in one important way. The one that lay heavy in his palms was untarnished, but… the one wrapped up in a parcel in Harry's trunk was broken, irrevocably- a product of his hate and rage at fate (and probably himself) that had left him taking it out on Sirius's last gift to Harry. He had broken his mirror. Smashed it. Ruined it. He had shown Sirius's gift so little respect and care that it left Harry feeling empty and sick and ashamed as he gazed upon the mirror that his godfather had lovingly kept under his pillow.

Had Harry meant that much to him?

Inside him a battle was being fought between the creeping self hatred and the warm feeling that enveloped him at the notion that Sirius had cared about him, like a parent. Like a dad.

Gripping the handle of the mirror tightly, Harry laid back down on the bed- the pillow sinking around his ears and the faint, spicy scent of Sirius making his nose tickle and his eyes sting. Carefully he pulled the crisp sheets up to his chin, burying his face in the fabric and breathing deeply.

Harry gave a long, shuddering sigh, and then succumbed to the blackness.

Poor Eddy Hadward.

Ahh, one can not be a shounen hero without the mandatory daddy issues. God knows Ed has enough for both of them- but Harry certainly has his fair share too. (Which is what I wanted to highlight in this chapter). While this will end up being pretty FMA-centric, I don't want to ignore the HP characters and plotlines, because really- they deserve better- and that's why I'm taking my time and making the pacing is so slow. The action/plot picks up good and proper next chapter (or two, depending on where I put the interval), so yay for not having to wait too much longer for things to develop.
I swear, I don't know where this chapter came from. It just sort of, materialised. This one was originally going to be the rewrite of the old Body Snatcher chapter 'of teenagers, trains and transfer students', but as you can see- a lot has changed since then. In fact, readers of the old fic may notice several strange and unexplainable changes to the storyline in chapters to come. All I can say is, it will all become clear eventually.
I'm by no means a perfect writer, and this story has no beta reader, so if you find any spelling or grievous grammatical errors can you point them out in your review and I'll fix them ASAP. Same goes for inconsistencies and character-issues (it's been a long time since I read Harry Potter :P). Thanks.

Ellersway (EKK)

P.S whenever I write Kreacher, he always wants to speak like Gollum. Yes. Precious.