To Settle a Debt

Chapter 8


Speaking to the Potions Master was definitely not as productive as he had hoped. Severus seemed to be very tight lipped about everything, unwilling to give even the smallest amount of the information that he needed and the Headmaster was denying him. He was also entirely unapologetic about his evasiveness, essentially telling Edward to piss off and do what he was told.

Edward was not patient enough for that.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Hermione except in class since they had spoken, and that was a few days ago already. Harry had taken to glaring at him suspiciously whenever he got the chance, so Edward assumed that Hermione had asked already, to a negative response. Edward had kept the students busy learning chemistry for a good while now, and the grades of even the students he hadn't kicked out were still frighteningly abysmal. There were only a few in each class that seemed interested and he'd remove the ones that weren't from the class if Dumbledore hadn't cut him off.

He wondered briefly how teaching Hermione outside of class would work out. She certainly had great interest in the subject and her comprehension of science was adequate. However, his experience learning alchemy was certainly not something conventional – even in his world. In class he just rattled off facts while the students took notes or something, not really putting much effort into the teaching.

However, if Dumbledore wasn't going to give him the information he needed, he was going to have to get it elsewhere. He would figure out everything he could about his enemy and how to get to him, no matter what it took. At first the Headmaster had seemed extremely pleased with his task here, and he thought it was going to be easy; but the pace Dumbledore set was too slow, and decidedly not Fullmetal Alchemist style. The old man seemed content to watch and wait, insisting that there was little else he could do while the Ministry remained unwilling to accept the fact of the Dark Lord's return.

But Edward Elric was bound by no man, and no rule. Never before had anything stopped him, and their sham of a government sure as hell wasn't going to. He told Dumbledore as much and the man only told him to have patience. Patience, patience, patience!

Fuck patience.

He needed to do something.

On his way to breakfast he suddenly realized something, stopping dead in his tracks.

"I must warn you, however; he knows about you," Severus had said, "You're hard not to notice, anyways. You've sent his people back with holes in them. He's wary, but curious. He knows you use alchemy. He was once interested in the philosopher's stone."

"Alright, but are you going to tell me anyting useful?" Edward questioned, frustrated.

Severus gave him a pointed look.

"I suppose not."

Oh.

How had he not caught that before? Maybe he got a little too mad at the man for giving him nothing to work with. It seemed that he had, after all. But was he really suggesting...?

He wouldn't put it past the man. He seemed to have a determination to take down Riddle that far exceeded many others in the Order, perhaps only matched entirely by Sirius or Remus. He had a feeling that the man would do anything, even go behind Dumbledore's back and throw a kid to the wolves, to destroy him.

Edward grinned, and continued toward the Great Hall for breakfast with a little more ease.

Wolves; meet dog.


"No, Hermione," Harry said before the girl could even speak.

Her mouth clicked shut and she pursed her lips.

The common room was nearly empty, and they had a quiet corner to themselves, where no one would really hear much of anything they said.

Not like anyone ever listened to or believed anything he said.

"It's none of his business," Harry continued, "Haven't you stopped to think why he wants to know? Why would anyone want to know about what happened when Voldemort returned? The only people who need to know the details, already do."

"Harry, please," Hermione pleaded, "It's not like he'd use the information for anything bad. I mean think about it. Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he didn't trust him, I'm sure we can, too."

"I'm not recounting the details of the worst day of my life to someone I don't even know just because you want to learn alchemy," Harry said.

He was getting entirely sick of Hermione asking him constantly for this. It wasn't Edward's business. He was beginning to agree with Ron's opinion of the kid. He didn't trust him, he didn't know Edward, and Edward didn't know him or what he'd gone through because of Voldemort. He was under no obligation to tell him anything.

This whole fiasco was doing nothing to calm his ever tightening nerves. With every nightmare he jumped little more at every shadow, and took one more paranoid glance around every room. Harry unconsciously rubbed at the back of his hand; Umbridge wasn't helping either. What Moody had done was wrong, but he understood it. This kid comes out of literally nowhere, and suddenly everything becomes his business? No. He was suspicious, this Edward. Did no one think about how horribly determined he was to keep what happened to his arm a secret? The kid broke his own jaw for Merlin's sake! They were to believe that he had nothing to hide? That they could trust him?

"The answer is 'no', Hermione," Harry said quietly, "It will be 'no' the next time you ask, too, so don't."

"Harry..." She said with wide, pleading eyes.

"No."

With that he left the common room, heading up the stairs to the dormitories, Hermione calling after him.


Hermione thought and thought and thought as she picked at breakfast the next morning. But, as much as she thought, she couldn't think what Edward could have meant by 'All is one, and one is all'. No more than she could think of a way to convince Harry to speak to Edward about that night, last year. With a sigh, she pushed the plate away and stood. The boys looked up at her, Ron with irritation, Harry just tired.

He was always tired these days.

"Come on, we ought to get to class," she said with her hands on her hips, looking at their reluctant expressions, "We'll be late if we don't leave now. I doubt Professor Snape will be happy with that."

With a groan, Ron pulled himself from his seat and Harry followed suit, seeming subdued.

"Potions first thing in the morning should be a crime," Ron grumbled as he grabbed his bag and they left the Great Hall.

Hermione was distracted all day, as she had been for the past several, thinking of what Edward's words meant. She was barely able to finish her potion this morning, and it wasn't up to her usual standards, earning a sneer, a remark, and a point deduction from Snape. It made her feel pretty horrible, but did little to deter her thoughts.

She tried to shake the thoughts as she and Harry made their way to their last class. Alchemy. She wanted to at least pay attention there. As they turned a corner they saw a small group of students (the ones left in the class after Edward's spree of kicking people out – Malfoy and Ron included) standing in front of the door, fighting to read a small piece of paper that seemed tacked on the wood.

She and Harry shared a glance, his of suspicion, and hers of curiosity, and they quickened their steps.

One of the students broke away with a 'whoop' of joy and hurried off. The others broke into grins, and rushed off through the halls as well. Harry and Hermione came to the door and read the note there.

Class canceled. Gone to Diagon Alley.

Read the next ten pages in your notebook.

"How strange," Hermione said, brow furrowing, "What could he need in Diagon Alley?"


Edward walked down Diagon Alley with a skip in his step and a bright expression. The sun was just about going down and there was a slight chill in the air, leaving his arm and leg aching. The summer air seemed to be dissipating, leaving the cool and wet fall in its wake and Edward was not looking forward to it, though the thought did little to disrupt his mood.

Maybe he shouldn't be so happy about his plan, but he was glad to be taking action.

He strolled through the street, exploring the place as the sky darkened and a few of the shops closed for the night. He probably didn't have to cancel his last two classes for this, but he really didn't feel like dealing with the students, and wanted the time to get a good idea of this place.

He was planning on getting kidnapped in it after all.

Screw Dumbledore, this was a good plan. He'd deal with the fallout later. There was no need to tell anyone what he was planning; besides, Snape would know as soon as he turned up missing, if he wasn't the one to take him in the first place.

Darkness settled over the quiet street, people clearing from the streets, and Edward began looking for an ominous alley between some shops, preferably one with a dead end. He glanced around and caught sight of a decrepit wooden sign over a darkened way.

Knockturn Alley

Down the way he could see some run down shops and questionable characters, most covering their faces, walking about down there.

Well, if that place didn't look ominous, dark, and dangerous, he didn't know what did.

Satisfied with his destination, he turned on his heel and began to strut down the alley confidently, the bright red coat he had transmuted for himself painting him as a target. People suspiciously looked at him, glaring from beneath dark hoods. The dark alley was dimly lit by torches by some of the shops, though he found himself often walking in almost complete blackness. Definitely a good choice.

"Are you sure that's him?" A hushed voice hissed.

"I think I know what my colleague looks like, Avery," Severus' velvet tones whispered back.

Jackpot. Thank you, Severus.

"*I swear I will never say your name wrong again.*"

"Stupefy!" He heard a voice hiss.

He could have ducked if he wanted to. Even if he had done it wordlessly he would have seen the flash of light behind him and moved accordingly. That would defeat the purpose, however. So he let the spell hit his back and knock the breath out of him.

The world went black.


When next he woke he was reminded of the first time he came to in this world. Voices speaking around him, growing in volume, and for a moment even when they came to an understandable level, he had to strain his groggy mind to recognize the words.

"He's a Muggle he hasn't got a wand," Severus hissed, "Don't waste time looking for it."

"A Muggle?" Another said

"I told you that before; he's a Muggle alchemist," Severus said

"Alchemy is a magic!" The other continued.

"It began as a Muggle science," A bone-chilling voice said, "He is useful to us all the same. Severus? I believe he is waking."

Edward felt himself lifted up, his arms trapped behind his back and forced to kneel on the stone floor. Slowly he opened his eyes, and attempted to take in his surroundings. It was dark, almost too dark to see, and he strained to make out the face of the man standing before him, a short ways away. Narrow red eyes studied him on a face that couldn't possibly be human.

"Tom Riddle is the man's name, though he could scarce be called a man still."

"Welcome, Mr. Alchemist," The creature said with a disturbing, gleeful smile. The voice and words sent a cold shiver down his spine, but the grip on his arms – the left one anyway – was almost reassuring.

Though, he didn't expect any kind of help. The man had an image to keep, after all.

"Vell," Edward said, "Very good to meet you, Tom Riddle."

The man's distorted features twisted further into a scowl and rage filled those red eyes of his. He whipped out his wand in a flash and Edward braced himself for whatever would come his way, the grip on his arm tightening.

"Crucio!" Riddle hissed.

Pain erupted in him, every muscle twisting a way it shouldn't and bones straining to break, just the desire to scream bubbling forth. Edward's eyes widened and he couldn't help his body attempting to twist away from the pain, curl in on itself. The only thing keeping him still was the tight grip on his arms, holding him back from wrapping his arms around himself and falling to the ground. He grit his teeth, mouth shut tight against the torrent of pain, refusing to cry out. He held back the urge to lower his gaze, golden pain-filled eyes glaring straight at the man before him whose face twisted in hatred.

This pain would not conquer him. The pain of the loss of his arm and leg did not conquer him. The pain of the auto-mail surgery did not conquer him. A goddamned beam through his stomach and pulling it out didn't conquer him.

He felt like he was suffocating, and his lungs refused to take in the air around him.

Suddenly the pain ended and the aching of his jaw became noticeable, his teeth pained from pressing against each other so tightly. Edward gasped breaths filled his needy and hurting lungs. God, everything ached. Still his eyes refused to leave those of the man before him, which only seemed to fuel his rage.

"That is not my name," He hissed.

"Vell, dat's vonderful to know," Edward quipped through gasps of breath, "Vhat do you vant vith me?"

As if he didn't know.

"The philosopher's stone," Riddle said, "You are an alchemist."

Edward held back a snort; state the obvious why don't you. His eyes darted around the room, now that they had adjusted to the darkness. It was elaborate and had a high ceiling, pillars holding it up and a circle of men cloaked in black surrounded them. There was no clear indication of where exactly they were, and there was no way of knowing even how far from Diagon Alley he had been taken. He could figure that out later, however, after he had Voldemort in chains before Dumbledore.

Patience. What a joke.

He hoped that would make Truth happy, then he could go. Edward briefly realized that he didn't need anything from Harry after all, which meant he'd have no obligation to teach Hermione anything as well, leaving him free to go.

"Do not ignore me!"

Oh, right. Edward gave him a bored look, not keen on being on the wrong end of that spell again, but not able to resist.

"You test my patience, Muggle," Voldemort hissed, "You will answer me!"

"Dat vas a question?" Edward asked, Riddle raised his wand, "Yes, I am an alchemist! Anger management, much?"

The curse flew, but Edward was prepared this time, tightening his jaw and keeping as still as possible, willing himself to ignore the pain. It ended quicker this time, breaking off and leaving Edward gasping for breath once more.

"You are in no position to be smart with me," Voldemort said with a satisfied glint in his eyes.

Breathe, Elric. Just breathe.

"The Philosopher's Stone," Voldemort repeated, "Muggle alchemists searched for a thousand years for the stone. The Elixir of Life, the secret to immortality. Destroyed by that old fool and its creator, Flamel. Dumbledore and Flamel were the only ones to know how to create it. The only two supposed to know how to perform alchemy."

Red eyes glared at him suspiciously.

"And then you appear," He said.

How convenient it was that, even in this world, everyone wanted the Philosopher's Stone.

"Flamel is dead and the old fool is out of reach-"

"Not so foolish den is he?" Edward interrupted.

Voldemort twitched in annoyance, but did not move to raise his wand again.

"Imagine my surprise when you go walking past two of my own in Knockturn Alley," He said, "An opportunity they were all-too-happy to take advantage of. You did leave one of them with quite the injury."

"Oh, did I?" Edward said with a roll of his eyes, "Sorry about dat."

He was actually, if it was Severus.

"Enough," Voldemort hissed, "The Philosopher's Stone is a thing of such power that can only be dreamed. Power that I wish to attain. What do you know of its creation?"

"Don't know anything, sorry," Edward said, "Can't help you."

Voldemort grinned, "You're lying to me. Legilimens!"

The grip on his arm tightened in surprised and the thought 'Shit' came immediately to Edward's mind.

Suddenly Edward was assaulted by images, familiarly painful images, as a presence invaded his mind.

"*Are you sure this is going to work, brother?*" Alphonse's timid voice asked.

"*Don't worry, Al, it'll be fine,*" Edward reassured, finishing the transmutation circle.

Nonononono!

The image shifted.

"*What the hell did you do!*" The harsh voice broke through the emptiness as he was lifted into the air my his shirt.

"*We're sorry, sir,*" Al's sad, echoing voice – Ohgodohgodididthis – said shakily, "*We're sorry.*"

Again the image changed.

No, no, stop!

"*No going back now, Al-*"

Again.

"*The Philosopher's stone... I know how it's made.*"

NO!

"GET DE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!"

The world came sharply back into focus as the presence was torn from his mind, leaving his head aching painfully. Breath came in quick pants as Edward reasserted reality, shaking the images from his mind.

"Legilimens, it's a spell that allows you to enter the mind of another, see their memories," Severus said, "Why do you want to know?"

"Dumbledore said that Riddle was good at it," Edward said, "How is it countered?"

Severus snorted.

"Magic, Elric," He said, "You would be quite at his mercy."

"Tell me anyway."

Severus fixed him with a strange look.

"Occlumency."

Edward was beginning to think that the shit had been preparing him for this. Occlumency was, indeed, magic, but behind it was simple force of will; which was something that Edward definitely had. He might not be able to hide his thoughts, but he sure as hell could keep someone the fuck out of them.

"What was that?" Voldemort hissed, "What was that language?"

Edward grinned.

"Vell, vouldn't you like to know," Edward said.

"Crucio!"


"Canceled?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah," The student replied with a shrug, "There was a note on his door saying that he'd gone to Diagon Alley. Is something wrong, Headmaster?"

"No, of course not," Dumbledore said with a soft smile, "I simply forgot."

"Alright, sir," The student said and continued on down the hall.

Edward and Severus were both missing. Dumbledore headed toward his office with a tight frown on his face. Neither had been at dinner. Severus disappears occasionally to answer summons, so that was not worrying. Edward hadn't been in the library for days, however, which made his nonattendance more worrying.

The boy was impatient, more so than Harry, or almost anyone else he'd ever met. Edward was unwilling to wait for the Order to be able to begin acting. He should not have withheld anything from the boy, he should have known why they couldn't move. Simply telling him to be patient until the Ministry was done keeping its head in the sand clearly did not work.

There was still the simple fact that Voldemort was not dead, when he should have been. He should have told Edward much more than he did. Edward should have known that they did not believe that Voldemort could be killed so easily.

Dumbledore swept into his office, giving Fawkes a passing pet as he sat behind his desk.

He waited.


When Voldemort was done with him he was practically numb to the pain, which only served to anger the man. Voldemort gave a short promise of having the truth from him before he had been bound and dragged away, down a long hall and a flight of stairs. He heard the familiar sound of metal screeching and knew that he'd been taken to a cell of some sort. He was tossed in, unceremoniously and the door screeched shut.

He heard a light clack behind him.

"I do hope you know what you're doing," Severus said.

Edward struggled to a sitting position, looking up at the masked man on the other side of the bars with a grin.

"The Dark Lord is a busy man," Severus said, "I imagine you'd have a little more than two hours."

The man turned then and walked away. Edward's eyes fell to the floor, where a small piece of chalk lay.

How nice.

Unnecessary, however.

Edward struggled in his bonds and pressed his hands together. In a flash, he was free.


A/N: Okay, I'm a little late. But =P.