A/N: Sorry, this chapter's late. For me, it's already Sunday, since it's past midnight, and I decided to finish this up for some odd reason right at this moment, right now. So here, a day and a half late, is chapter 7/6... Well my chapter numberings are weird, so I don't even know... I also realized I made a mistake with their ages. Ed is 19. Al is 13. I think I had it as 18 and 12, but I fixed it now.

reply to db: I think the statue of dead muggles was built after Voldemort came into power again. And you mean if they discovered on the internet about the whole magic thing? It's an interesting idea, but not quite what I was planning. And yes, definitely Ed being Ed in the face of the Wizarding World.

Happy holidays!


A Lack of Tact
Phase 6.


"Hello!" Ed greeted cheerily before he fell into the stool by the bar counter. Al was right behind him, except slightly more respectful, even inquiring after Tom's morning so far.

The bartender chuckled in response. "Fine, fine. You missed the main business hours again." He raised an eyebrow. "How was it yesterday? You didn't get into too much trouble, I hope?" Al hesitated. He didn't want to lie and say everything had gone completely fine, but he also didn't want to –

"There was some 'pure-blood' kid who bothered us," Ed said nonchalantly, "but we dealt with him okay."

– worry him.

... Unfortunately, Brother did not have the kind of tact to even realize what effect his words would have on Tom.

"We only talked with him," Al said quickly. "He called us 'muggle-lovers', probably because of our clothes, nothing else." The already-raised eyebrow did not lower at his hurried explanation.

"I see." The man sighed and set down the cup he'd been cleaning and reached for the next. "Well, do you have any plans for today? Which wouldn't require an early retirement for poor old me?" He said the last part with a crooked smile.

"We were going to get wands."

Tom froze.

"Wands – but – you can't!"

"And why not?" Ed had that arrogant smirk on his face. "How do you know if we aren't able to do magic?" Tom blinked.

"I... suppose that's possible," he finally said after a long pause. Then he added as an afterthought, "Since you were able to find this place anyway."

"Is there something that stops regular people from seeing it?" Al asked curiously. Tom nodded. That would disprove another theory that he had been thinking, that maybe it was possible for everybody to use magic and only some people were tested in the first place.

"Ever since the Statute of Secrecy was passed. Say, would you mind giving a hand with these dishes? It's been busy around here the past few nights, and they just keep on stacking up."

"You hand wash them?" Al asked, surprised. Somehow, he didn't expect this return to familiarity in this world of strange technology and apparently, magic. Didn't the wizards have some way of their own to advance convenience?

But Tom only smiled.

"I'm an old man. Many wizards now whip out their wands for everything, but I appreciate the value of moving at least once in a while. What do you say, youngsters? Are you feeling up to it?"

They laughed and easily agreed. It wasn't strange work to them – this was how it had always been back in Amestris – and they were able to efficiently cut through the tower of dishes that had been hidden in the back room. It was calming work. It reminded Al of home.

But this time, he could feel the cool plate in his hands. The rush of water as it caressed his skin. Even the slight pruning of his hands. And almost best of all, he didn't have to worry about accidentally breaking the dishes, if he was unknowingly exerting a little too much force on them. He remembered what it was like, having to tiptoe around every object because he was afraid he might break it.

... Brother still had to deal with that.

Al was already free. Al had his human body back. And yet Brother was still missing his two limbs. He must have been still worrying, even now, that his right hand might break the plate he was trying to clean.

But it was also something Ed had already accepted. That arm that Winry had made so meticulously, that was part of him now. It was his own limb, not quite flesh and blood, but still his.

Al smiled.

"It's been a while since we've done this," he noted. Ed didn't fail to respond.

"Yeah. We've been getting lazy.. The machines they have here are too convenient." But his grin fell slightly when his golden eyes flickered over to Tom, still in hearing range, before his full attention focused back on Al. "Wanna spar sometime? It'd be good for us." Al raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Are you admitting you're out of shape?"

"Hey, you are too!" Then he chuckled ruefully. "If Teacher saw us, she'd kill us."

That startled Al more than anything.

That's right. Of course. Al had never told him. It just never seemed to be the right time.

He bit his lip and looked away.

"Ed..."

"Yeah, Al?" He could hear the worry in his voice.

"Teacher's... gone. She passed away a few years ago." There was a crack, and Al knew that this time, Ed hadn't succeeded in restraining the strength of his automail arm.

"She's... gone?" His voice had all of the horrified disbelief that Al had hoped he would never have to hear again.

"Brother, I –" His throat choked with something that felt like guilt, and suddenly, he was all too aware of the third presence that had been doing its best to not intrude. He shouldn't have told him here. It was wrong, when somebody else, practically a stranger, could too easily intrude. And in any case, it would've been better not to talk about their world in front of Tom. It was one of their rules: do not mention our world to anybody we don't trust.

It was a necessary precaution. After all, the last time somehow had learned about it, there had been a war.

"Sorry, Tom." Al forced a bright smile on his face. "Is it okay if we leave the rest up to you?" He looked surprised, but also understanding.

"Sure. You've been a great help. Thanks."

"Thank you." Al hesitated. Should he still ask, even after this? Yes, they had come here for a reason. "Would you know where we could get wands?"

"Ollivander's, also in Diagon Alley. Just be careful, all right?" He looked like he wanted to say something more, probably about them not revealing they were muggles, but held it in.

"We will. Thanks again."

Ed was silent until they left the pub.

"Sorry, Al." He smirked, but Al could tell it was fake. "I should've seen that coming, huh? I shouldn't have expected her to live forever, she –" His words suddenly cut off.

"Brother..." But Al too oddly found himself without anything to say. What was there to say? They knew each other well enough to not have to use words. Ed understood how he felt. All they could do now was move on with their goal.

And so it was that they stumbled into Ollivander's, already worn out despite the early hour, but also determined to get what they came for.

"Good morning," Al greeted the man who was sorting boxes around the shop. He whirled around, obviously surprised.

"Good morning," he replied, then looking at Al curiously, "Shouldn't you still be at Hogwarts?"

Now, Al was the one who was startled. Pig warts? What did that have anything to do with him? But he was saved from answering by Ed's brusqueness.

"We're here for wands," he said, and the man frowned, evidently displeased at not having his question answered. Nevertheless, he grabbed the measuring tape from a nearby counter and approached the two brothers.

"I see. Did you perhaps have a wand before or are you simply late in acquiring one?" He was looking straight at Al.

"Erm... no. I've never had a wand before." An eyebrow quirked up.

"Oh? Now that's interesting. Are you perhaps from... outside of England? I understand they may have different policies there." Both Al and Ed tensed. It was almost as if... no, that was impossible. No one else should know about their world. They just couldn't.

So a moment later, Al relaxed and nodded his head.

"Yeah, we come from out of England." It was an easy lie. Their accents were slightly different, more American if anything, so it was also a believable one. And it seemed to satisfy the man, as he nodded, his frown even lightening up to a soft smile.

"I see. Which is your wand arm?" Al almost lifted his right hand, but stopped him. It was easy to guess what he meant; after all, the wizards obviously had another word for "dominant hand" in this odd world of magic. However, before he would do anyone, he had to be certain this was who he thought it was.

"Excuse me, but, who exactly are you?" Not the most tactful way, but better than if Brother had butt in.

The man's eyes registered surprise.

"Garrick Ollivander. Though..." The frown returned. "I would think you would have known that, since you came here?" It was obviously a bait for more information, but Al didn't take it, opting for silence. A moment later, the wand maker shook his head and again asked for Al's wand hand.

This time, he gave it.

Apparently, the search for a wand required much more precision than simply picking one and leaving with it. First Al was measured in every spot ("Why are you measuring between my nostrils?" when he really wanted to ask how in the world is that tape measurer moving on it's own?, but he was polite and only kept his questions in mind for later, when Brother and him would be doing more research), and Ollivander gave him wand after wand, telling him to "give them a swish" only to be disappointed when nothing happened. It worried him at first, since they weren't entirely certain if they could do magic at all, but the wandmaker didn't seem to have caught on even after multiple failures.

But finally, there was a reaction with one of them – 13 inches, unyielding alder wood with a unicorn tail hair core – and Ollivander gave him a strange look.

"Curious... I didn't think someone like you would earn a wand so... optimistic." He felt his cheeks turn red, and he wasn't sure if it was from the slanted praise, the embarrassment, or indignation at what Ollivander's impression of him must have been.

"That would be seven galleons," the man said, effectively dismissing them.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander." Ed's voice was tight. "I also need a wand."

For what must have been the tenth time that day, the wandmaker's eyes widened in surprise.

"You as well? But – " He visibly took a deep breath and calmed down. "How old are you, Mister..." All of the sudden, he looked uncertain. Of course. He had gone this whole trip so far without so much as knowing their names.

"Edward. My name is Edward. And I'm nineteen."

"And you have never had a wand before now?"

Ed nodded stubbornly.

Ollivander sighed.

"I see. Wand arm?" Mutely, Ed lifted his left arm, and the tape measurer got to work, and so did Ollivander.

Al should've been angry. Or even worried at how badly this was going. But instead, he was feeling the warm coals of pride. Pride that Ed hadn't snapped at the man, or punched him in the face, or anything like that. That he was actually being relatively polite and that was enough to stir this warm feeling in him –

And then somehow, it all went wrong.

"Is something wrong with your right arm?" Ollivander asked bluntly after a few wands had already been tried. Al could see how Ed immediately tried to hide his surprise, but he could also see how he instinctively held his automail closer to his body, as if protecting it. It was probably enough for the observant man to see he was spot on.

"No," Ed growled. "Why do you think that?"

"It moves oddly. Too stiff." At that moment, he gave Ed another wand, effectively cutting off conversation. "Here. 14 inches, resilient fire wood with dragon heartstring core." Reluctantly, Ed took it and gave it a swish.

The reaction was immediate, small smarks erupting from the tip of the wand. Al let out a quiet sigh of relief. It seemed that they both were able to perform magic.

"Interesting..." Ollivander's eyes were narrowed. "The survivor's wand. I must say, you two do not give off the best impressions, yet some of the more interesting wands in my stock choose you. Well, that would be fifteen galleons please."

They paid the price, grimacing as their pile of wizarding money diminished further. They would have to restock again soon.

But now they were closer in their goal of understanding magic. Now they could do more practical tests, even try the magic that so confused them. See if it was similar to alchemy in any way, or if it followed the same laws. If not, theorize theorize theorize, and research research research.

It was the answer to everything.

Ed was not so optimistic.

"Al," he grumbled the moment they were out of the shop. "Let's do that sparring match you promised me when we get back." Al was surprised; he had thought Ed would want to do some research first, but...

"Sure." He had probably been the one to put Brother into such a bad mood, breaking the news when it was already far too late and not the right time or place.

Besides, they really were out of practice.