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The Abyss Stares Back

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of activity. From what Ed could gather, one of the highlights was something called a "hearing" for the Harry kid. He wasn't sure whether it was something to test the kid's ears, or what, but everyone was making a huge deal about it. He decided quickly that it didn't matter, and holed himself up in the library with Al.

Many of the wizards were skeptical that they could get caught up to the curriculum in only two weeks, but the "magic" books were laughably easy to understand compared to the alchemy texts back home. Ed had only refrained from saying so at Al's insistence; he had pointed out that there was no need to antagonize the people who had essentially saved their lives.

Finally, August was drawing to a close, and Ed was just finishing the books he would need for his fifth year. Al had also read the fifth year books, for lack of anything else to do, as they had nearly exhausted Sirius' library of its usefulness.

The few times Ed left the library, he saw everyone growing more and more active in anticipation of the school year. Ron was madly writing something called "homework," complaining all the way. Ed wondered if it was like his reports back home, and if so, what the big deal was. Mrs. Weasley was rushing around, trying to make sure everyone was getting ready.

She had even dragged Ed and Al back to Diagon Alley to buy "robes" and supplies, something Ed found totally unnecessary. He didn't plan on wearing any sort of uniform; he hadn't done it in the military, and he definitely wasn't going to do it now. The only highlight of the trip was letting Al pick out his cat. He insisted on looking at every one of them and petting most before he finally decided on the largest, fluffiest one in the store. All of the wizard children laughed, but Ed was not going to deprive Al of feeling the cats he had loved all those years.

The two boys also returned with armfuls of cloth, strange boxes of ingredients, and their own books, all paid for by Dumbledore. Ed had noted with approval that at least Gryffindor's color was red.

The only person who seemed downright unhappy in the house was Sirius. Al had asked him why, his face drooping in concern, but he had laughed humorlessly and said that once school started, he'd be all alone in his mother's old house. Ed didn't really understand his problem—at least he had a house to live in!—but Al shot him a look, and he didn't question it.

September first dawned bright and early, and Ed and Al were ready to go by nine-thirty. Unfortunately, the rest of the household didn't seem to understand that trains always left on time. Most of the teenagers were still scrambling around at ten-thirty, putting things together.

Ed sighed explosively and sat next to Sirius at the kitchen table. Quite honestly, he was probably Ed's favorite wizard in the whole house. Mrs. Weasley was incredibly kind and motherly, but she could be overbearing at times; Hermione—well, Hermione was a teenager, and Ed had never really figured out how normal teenagers worked. He was much more comfortable around adults.

"You'll probably have fun at Hogwarts," Sirius said dully after a moment, glancing up from his coffee. "Even if you don't like magic, you'll meet new people, and learn new things…you like that, don't you?"

"I have no idea how school works. Or teenagers. Everyone will probably hate me," Ed said cheerily. The idea of being hated didn't bother him in the slightest. They were all stupid, naïve teenagers anyway, and he and Al would be leaving soon. Why bother to impress them?

Sirius shot him an odd look. "What do you mean, you don't know how teenagers work? You're one yourself, aren't you?"

"We didn't go to school, so the only other person our age we know is Winry," Al said, shrugging and leaning against the countertop.

"The girl who made…?" His gaze flickered to Ed's arm.

Ed nodded, wondering forlornly whether she would be there to greet them when they made it home. If anyone would be. He shoved that thought away quickly. "We've always been around adults…"

"Well, you'll learn quickly," Sirius said confidently. "You'll get to know your roommates really well, and the rest of the people in your year. Just stay away from the Slytherins—they're nasty. They don't have as much of a problem with Ravenclaws, but Gryffindors are pretty much their enemies. Just watch yourselves, okay?"

Ed laughed loudly. "If a bunch of grumpy kids is all we have to worry about, we'll be great!"

They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes—Ed stole some more bacon from the undefended frying pan—until Mrs. Weasley and the six other teenagers finally crowded into the kitchen.

"I still don't see why we have to use the Floo," Ginny grumbled.

"If you want to be sliced into little pieces, you can go outside," Ed said, shrugging. "I don't think you would, though. It sounds pretty unpleasant…"

Molly shushed them, glaring for a moment at Ginny before sending them all through the Floo to "Platform 9 ¾." Al looked just as confused about the name as Ed felt, but apparently it was an actual train station; Ed arrived behind Ron on a foggy platform crammed full of people.

Ed was definitely no stranger to such circumstances; but then, Al had always been imposing enough to easily clear the way. Soon enough, though, the group of them were pushing their way through the crowd toward the "Hogwarts Express."

Ed stopped short when the train finally came into view; he heard Al gasp loudly from his right. It was much different than any they had ridden on at home; it was bright red, clean, and unbelievably sleek. Ed wondered excitedly what the inside looked like as the group hauled their luggage onto the train. It seemed as though they had arrived just in time; the clock chimed eleven, and the train began moving as Molly and various other adults called their goodbyes.

Fred and George—Ed could almost tell them apart now—ran off quickly to find one of their friends, and Ron and Hermione had to go somewhere called a "prefects' compartment." This left Ed, Al, Harry, and Ginny to find seats on their own.

He quickly realized another astounding thing about this train, but Al asked about it first—"Everyone has private compartments?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said, shooting them an odd look. "Gryffindors and Slytherins can't be in the same room for too long—someone'll get killed."

Ed couldn't tell if he meant that literally or figuratively, but Ginny laughed, and she didn't strike Ed as the homicidal type. "So…where do we sit, then?" he asked, deciding to ignore the topic altogether.

"Wherever we can find an empty one, I suppose. Oh, hey Neville!" Ginny called cheerfully. Ed looked to where she was waving and saw a vaguely familiar boy turning to greet them.

"Hi Harry, Ginny…" he said in reply, apparently not noticing Ed and Al at the moment. "Everywhere's full…I can't find a seat…"

"What do you mean? There's room in this one, it's only Loony Lovegood in here—"

Ed had only a moment to wonder who would ever name their child "Loony"—he wasn't totally sure what it meant, but it sure sounded ridiculous—before Neville gasped loudly, staring at him and Al. "You're—you're—"

"You know them?" Harry asked curiously as Ginny led the way into the compartment.

"He took out ten Death Eaters all on his own!" Neville cried, pointing wildly at Ed. "It was amazing! Gran hasn't stopped talking about you since—"

"You did what?" Ginny rounded on them with wide eyes. Harry also looked astonished, and the Loony girl looked up from her magazine curiously.

Al shifted uncomfortably, and Ed scowled, sitting down in a corner. (Cushioned seats!) "It wasn't a problem. They were very weak compared to others…" Finally, it clicked. This boy—Neville—was the one who had made sure Al hadn't helped him fight. He seized the change of subject and said—"Good thing you held Al back. I won't have to beat you up now."

"Er…it was no problem," he said, obviously confused by his reply. He looked like he wanted to discuss their fight at the café more, but then Loony made some bizarre comment Ed didn't understand. It sparked an argument with Ginny and Harry that Neville was inevitably dragged into.

The sounds and movements of the train—more muted than at home, but still present—were already lulling Ed into slumber. It was a habit he'd had since he was twelve—sleep on trains to pass the time—and the wizards had said that this ride would take most of the day. He shifted into a more comfortable position (though, honestly, the seats were already unbelievably soft) and dozed off within a few minutes.

His nap was short-lived, though. A quick glance out the window told him that it couldn't have been more than a few hours before he was rudely awakened by the return of Ron and Hermione from their "prefect duties."

"What do you mean, he took on ten Death Eaters?"

"Don't you remember? He mentioned it during that meeting—oh, now you've woken him up," Hermione said disapprovingly, glancing apologetically over to Ed. "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have been so loud…"

"S'fine," he mumbled, glancing around the compartment. There were eight people seated there now; everyone was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

"But—did you really?" Ron asked eagerly. "It was before you even got a wand, right? So how—"

"They were weak. Nothing compared to what we're used to fighting." Superhuman monsters with God complexes. "Why is everyone making it a big deal?"

"I dunno where you come from, but a fifteen year old beating ten adults with no problem isn't common here," Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Ed scowled around at them all. The four teenagers he knew were staring in surprise and curiosity; the Loony girl had discarded her magazine to watch the exchange with large eyes; Neville was silent, looking at him with something akin to hero worship.

(That—along with pity—was the only attitude Ed couldn't stand being directed at him.)

Al seemed to sense the warning signs, because he quickly intervened, waving a hand—"In our country, more people know how to fight. It isn't a big deal there. It's probably weird to you because you rely on magic so much."

Hermione apparently noticed Edward's darkening mood as well, for she helped Al steer the conversation into safer waters. Al seemed to be getting along well with everyone, even the strange girl—Luna. But then, that was just the way Al was. He could be friends with anyone, even when he was the intimidating suit of armor.

Ed, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea what to do with these people. He had learned very quickly that treating them the same as he treated Winry would get him in trouble. The way he acted around his co-workers would yield a similar reaction.

Quite simply, that was all the extended experience he had with people within the last few years.

He had no idea what to do.

Bored but not tired in the least, he finally decided to stare out the window at the passing scenery. If he stretched his imagination, the fields almost looked like those back home, in Resembool…

"Anyone want to play cards?" Ginny asked loudly after a while. Everyone but Luna and Ed agreed. The strange girl disappeared behind her—upside-down?—magazine, and Ed just wasn't in the mood. He didn't want to learn a magical card game; he would be perfectly happy to mope all the way to—

"Brother!" Al whined, pulling on his sleeve. "Come on! You can't just ignore us all day!"

He grunted and finally turned toward the rest of the compartment. "I want to play poker," he said, slumping down dejectedly as the girl began passing out more than five cards.

"What's that?" Neville asked curiously, picking up his hand and looking at the cards critically. Ed mirrored him a little warily, at least happy to see that both of their worlds had the same deck of cards.

(It was weird what was the same about the two places.)

"Just a card game from home," Al said dismissively, grinning a bit. "Brother wouldn't be any good at it, anyway—he can't cheat. His fake deck isn't here."

Everyone laughed, and Ed punched his brother lightly on the arm. It was true that he didn't have his deck. It wasn't as if he was going to challenge the head Homunculus to a poker game. Winner takes all. The fate of the country would depend on whether the Homunculus caught on to the cards hidden up Ed's sleeve…

The morbid absurdity of that thought made him laugh aloud, and Al shot him an odd look before turning to the others. "What are we playing, then?"

"Exploding Snap…I don't suppose—"

But all Ed could think of when he heard "exploding snap" was a certain pyromaniac back home. Based on his badly stifled giggles, Al was thinking the same thing.

"You guys don't know how to—what's so funny?" Harry looked rather at a loss, and Ed supposed he couldn't blame him. But, he and Al had had so little to laugh about recently, and now the irony of the card game…

"Does there happen to be—uh—fire involved in this game?" Ed snickered.

"A bit," Hermione shrugged. "Just when you slap the pile. It's not that big of—" But she cut herself off, looking rather lost as Ed and Al dissolved into laughter again.

"It's not that weird," Ginny said defensively. "Even if you guys haven't known magic—"

"Don't get so upset. We'll play your stupid game." Ed looked down at his cards, trying to guess the point of it all. The wizard children explained the game quickly; it wasn't hard to understand. All was going well until the end of the first round, when Ron slammed his hand on the pile.

Snap.

Instinctively, Ed threw himself on the ground, waiting for the fireball to pass overhead. After a moment, though, he realized how ridiculous it must have looked to everyone else. Al was laughing heartily, and everyone else was staring, looking rather baffled, as he picked himself up off the floor.

"What the—"

"Habit," Ed said shortly, turning away from the game to stare out the window again. "Go ahead and play. I'm done."

Every so often, he had to resist the urge to dive for cover when someone won a round. Damn Mustang had ruined any sort of snaps for him.

I wonder if he's alive.

Apparently he fell back asleep at some point, because the next thing he remembered was Al shaking him awake. "Brother, get up, we're almost there."

It was such a normal occurrence that Ed didn't think twice about it; he sat up from the window pane, stretched, and looked around the compartment. Al was wearing—robes—trimmed in blue, as was the Luna girl. The rest of the teenagers were pulling on red ones over their clothes.

"Right. How long?"

"Just a couple of minutes," Hermione said, checking her watch briefly. "You'll want to pull on your robes, too—"

"Nope," he said immediately, scowling a bit. "I'm not wearing that."

Everyone stared at him, looking rather astounded. They were like sheep, Ed decided sourly. People told them to do things, go places that made no sense, and they agreed without question.

That's how wars begin.

Al was the only one who didn't look surprised; he only sighed and shook his head. "You won't convince him," he told Hermione. "Brother has never worn uniforms. You'll just waste your time."

Hermione glared at him disapprovingly before huffing and sitting down again. "McGonagall will make you change," she said stiffly after a few moments. "It's just robes; they're not all that different from your coat. Why's it—"

"This is a coat. Those are robes," Ed said scathingly. "I've had this for years. Why do they make you wear some stupid uniform, anyway?"

"It's just part of the school," Luna said, sounding, like always, rather breathless and far away. "I've never liked the robes either, but there's really nothing to do about it…"

Hermione opened her mouth—probably to rebuke what Luna had said and scold Ed a bit more—but she was cut off by a voice over some strange speaker system. It announced that they were just about at "Hogsmeade Station." Ed stood and stretched, walking out the door as the train slowly ground to a halt.

Hogsmeade Station, to his relief, appeared to be just like any other train station in the dark. Al caught up to him quickly, and the two of them claimed an empty carriage. It was pulled by what looked like zombie horses, but Ed decided not to question it. With everything else in this weird place…

Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Hermione also climbed in, but Harry and Ron seemed to be arguing about the horses outside. Specifically, whether they existed.

Idiots.

"Come on," he yelled, poking his head out of the door and scowling. "It's just a couple of horses. Nothing exciting."

"You can see them?" So much relief seeped into Harry's voice that Ed sent him an odd look before replying—

"Of course I can. They're giant zombie horses. Just get in the carriage, you're wasting dinner time!"

Al laughed from behind him as he sat back down with a huff. "The food isn't going to run away…what's the rush?"

"I'm hungry," he whined as Harry and Ron finally climbed in, and they started moving. "It was a stupid argument—"

"Like you've never had one of those with Mustang," Al butted in airily, looking out the window to try and conceal his grin.

"Those weren't stupid!" Ed huffed, glaring at his little brother. He seemed to be in an extraordinarily good mood as he began chatting animatedly with Luna about the school. Apparently she was also a fourth-year Ravenclaw, so they would be spending a lot of time together. Ed was glad that Al, at least, had met and befriended someone so easily at this damned place.

He really was cut out for social situations.

Ed was not.

He was just about to let himself be dragged into Al and Luna's conversation when his arm began itching. This would not have been great cause for concern, except it was his right arm.

The hell?

He didn't even try scratching it, but instead began flexing his automail, trying to ascertain what exactly was wrong. It would respond, but its movements were jerky. The same itching began in his left leg, but it was only in the automail; his upper thigh was fine.

If I fried any of the wires, I'm screwed… Sirius had said automail didn't exist in this world, so if his limbs gave out on him, he'd be crippled until they found their way home. And then I'll be no help to anyone.

The sensation seemed to be spreading from his ports, where the greatest number of wires were. It intensified as they neared the castle, and Ed cursed under his breath, trying to massage them out of his leg first. If he couldn't even walk—

"Brother? Are you all right?" The worried tone of Al's voice made him look up quickly. He glanced around at all the curious wizards; he couldn't just reveal his automail here. The kids were excitable, and metal prostheses would definitely set them off.

"My leg's just itching pretty badly," he said casually, patting his left knee.

Al looked worried and confused for a moment before his face split into a small grin. "Maybe you're allergic to magic," he offered. "This is the place with the most magic in the world, didn't you say?" He shot Ed a significant glance before turning to Hermione.

"One of them, at least," she replied slowly. "I don't think anyone can be allergic to magic—if the body ever rejected it, wizards would…"

But Ed had realized the significance of Al's glance. "Wires and magic usually don't mix well…" Sirius' words from weeks before returned quickly, and it was all he could do not to groan in annoyance. The amount of magic floating around Hogwarts was enough to affect his—half-biological—automail?

"I would go ask Madame Pomfrey, the nurse," Hermione finished saying. "She'd know the most of anybody, maybe even Dumbledore. I can take you up there after dinner if it doesn't go away."

"Thank you," Al said loudly over Ed's protests. "We would like that." Grinning in response to Ed's glare, he struck up his conversation with Luna again. He really was very cheerful; Ed hadn't seen his face so lit up with happiness since they were children. He couldn't help but feel happy as well, even as he rubbed his leg port furiously and was carried toward his imminent doom.

Finally, they arrived in front of the hugest building Ed had ever seen. Castle was the only word to describe it; he counted at least seven stories, and he could barely see how wide the place was. Central Command had been the biggest building he knew of back home, but this absolutely dwarfed it in comparison.

"This is a school?" Al asked, sounding awed as he stared up at the castle.

The wizards laughed. "I suppose it's pretty big, isn't it?" Hermione said, stepping out of the carriage and looking up at the towers and gargoyles. "It's really the only place like it…"

Ed nodded in agreement as he climbed out after her, gingerly testing his left leg's stability. It would hold his weight, but only barely. He was able to hobble along, walking as normally as he could, following Hermione and the others into a huge entry hall. They walked right through that, though, and entered an even bigger hall, where five long tables had been set up.

"Ravenclaw is the second table down," Hermione explained. "Gryffindor's the fourth. Al, you should probably sit at your table, at least for tonight…"

Ed wanted very badly to yell at her—he could sit wherever he damn well pleased, thank you very much—but Luna was already dragging his brother away, waving and promising to meet up with them after the feast.

As much as he hated to admit it, the food was absolutely delicious. Not quite as good as Mrs. Hughes' or Winry's cooking, but it was pretty close. He tuned out Dumbledore's speech, as well as some abhorrent pink thing's, and finally, everyone seemed to be dispersing to their dormitories.

"Is your leg still bugging you?" Hermione asked as the group stood up from the table.

"Yeah," Ed admitted grudgingly. He was not excited at all about going to the hospital, and was even less excited about showing more people his automail, but if he was going to spend any length of time at Hogwarts…

"Well, it's up on the seventh floor, but there's a secret passage in the Entrance Hall that will make the trip much shorter," she explained as they met up with Al and Luna again. Al was positively glowing from the feast, and seemed, if possible, even happier than before.

"Uh…right," Ed replied, deciding not to press the subject. They parted ways with the rest of the group at an enormous stone staircase in the Entrance Hall; Hermione instead directed Ed and Al to walk right through a wall in a corner of the enormous room.

Now, Ed would put up with a lot of "magical" stuff. He would accept moving photographs, creating things out of thin air, even travelling via fireplace. He was rather skeptical, though, that the wall led to a "secret passage" that would magically land them on the seventh floor.

…You'd think I'd learn to stop using that word. Damn wizards…

Hermione seemed to see their hesitation, sighed, and walked right through the wall. Ed shook his head, deciding to never question anything magical ever again, and followed her.

He didn't find himself in a dark, steep stairwell like he had expected. Rather, he simply stepped out into another corridor, directly opposite a large set of double doors labeled "Hospital Wing."

"How—" he spluttered, moving out of the way quickly as Al arrived behind him. "You said it was on the seventh floor!"

"Yep! That's what the secret passages do—teleport you around, in a way," she said, going to open one of the doors. "This one's in case someone gets hurt downstairs, I suppose. That way, the nurse can get to them faster."

He hobbled inside as fast as his shaking leg would allow, and collapsed onto the nearest bed. "So, where's this Poofy lady?"

"Madame Pomfrey," she corrected reprovingly, and proceeded to yell the name down the long, narrow room. A plump, middle-aged woman eventually emerged from an adjacent office, looking irritated as she made her way closer.

"Is someone hurt already? Good God, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense than—"

"Nobody's hurt," Hermione said quickly, waving her hand. "It's just, Ed seems to be allergic to magic. Is that even possible?"

"Not that I've heard of," she said, looking immediately concerned as she turned to Ed. He fought the urge to shy away; he really hated hospitals. "I don't recognize you two…"

"We're new this year," Al said, smiling cheerfully. "Brother just wasn't expecting this, is all…"

"Well, what are your symptoms, exactly?" she took out her wand, but thankfully didn't cast any spells.

Ed sighed. It was now or never, he supposed. And Hermione didn't seem to have any intentions of leaving, so she'd just have to see them, too. "Actually, it's more of a mechanical problem," he said, fiddling with his right glove. "Machines aren't supposed to work here, right?"

"The magic short-circuits them, yes," the nurse said slowly, obviously confused. "What does that have to do with—"

Deciding there was nothing else for it, Ed pulled his glove off and held up his hand for them to see. Hermione screamed and stumbled back into the next bed; Pomfrey looked utterly stunned.

"Is that—a prosthetic hand?"

"Arm, technically, but yes," he shrugged off his coat and jacket, displaying the automail for all to see. "I hope there's a way to make them work properly, because they're kind of bad right now…" He flexed his fingers jerkily to prove his point.

"Wait, you said your leg…?" Hermione trailed off in horror, and Ed shrugged, pulling up his pant leg as well.

"They're both mechanical. Any chance you could make them work?"

"I'm…not sure," Pomfrey said slowly, still eying his arm curiously. "I've never heard of those before, but—"

"—probably because I'm the only person with ones like them," he butted in, feeling very irritated. If these people had magic and ridiculously advanced cars, shouldn't they be able to invent—

"I'm not sure if any spell would make it better, as that's the problem in the first place," she continued, as if he had not interrupted. "I suppose I could ask Professor Flitwick to come up here; he may know some barrier charms to cast around them that may help. I'm not sure we can fix the problem entirely…" she trailed off, still staring at his arm thoughtfully as she shook her head and walked back into her office.

Ed waited impatiently for a minute or so before she returned with a man who was, at best, three feet tall. Ed wondered briefly if he was all human; he didn't get the chance to ask, though. The professor walked over quickly, looking him and Al up and down.

"You two are the new foreign students, yes?" he asked. His voice was high and squeaky; it was all Ed could do not to laugh. "And, you're in my house!" he said cheerfully to Al, gesturing to his robes with a smile. "As its Head of House, I must welcome you to Ravenclaw."

"Er…thank you," Al said, pleasant surprise flitting across his face. "Do you think you can do anything for Brother's arm and leg?"

"Hmm…they're mechanical?" he turned back to Ed, inspecting his exposed arm closely. "There are wires in there that the magic interferes with, yes? So if we could somehow block the magic from coming into contact with them…"

Ed was, frankly, very glad that he was not making a big deal about his automail. Yes, they were strange; yes, it meant that he was missing half of his limbs; no, he didn't appreciate being gawked at. Pomfrey seemed to be trying to maintain a level of professionalism, but Hermione still wasn't over her shock.

"I've got a few spells in mind," Flicky said after a moment. "Tell me if you can move them any better after I cast them, all right?"

Ed nodded his approval, so the man raised his wand, beginning to cast some sort of enchantment. When he was done with the first one, he continued on to another, and another. Ed waited impatiently for him to finish, and when he did, he quickly flexed his limbs. The itching has definitely decreased, and he could move it more fluently than before, but it was far from perfect.

"It's better," he acknowledged, nodding to the man.

He smiled brightly. "Better enough that you'll be able to function normally, I hope? I can't think of any more good barrier charms off the top of my head, so if you need more, I'll have to look them up…"

Ed considered asking him for more, as his experimental punches with his right hand were significantly weaker than his left… But a glare from Al told him that was a Very Bad Idea.

Of course, Al hated putting people out of their way. And it wasn't as if they were going to be doing much fighting at a school…

"It's fine," he answered the old man, grinning a bit. "Er, thanks very much." He didn't say that phrase much, but figured that since Flicky had essentially saved his limbs…

"It wasn't a problem at all, dear boy," Flicky said, smiling brightly. "Whoever made those is brilliant. I'm not especially knowledgeable of Muggle inventions, but those are truly a work of art."

Ed smiled, genuinely this time. "I'll tell Winry that when I get the chance."

"Well, if that's all done, you three need to go to bed," the nurse said, frowning at them all. "Filius, I don't suppose you could go up to Ravenclaw Tower with…er…?"

"Alphonse," the boy supplied helpfully. "Just call me Al, please."

"So you must be Edward," Flicky (Filius?) said, turning to Ed as he stood up, testing his weight on the automail.

"Ed, yes."

"Well, Mister Ed Elric, I suppose I will see you in class," he said cheerfully, waving with Al as they left the Hospital Wing.

Ed suddenly felt very alone.

"We should head to the common room too, Ed," Hermione said after a moment, standing from her perch on a nearby bed. She seemed to be over her shock a bit, but she kept shooting furtive glances at his arm as he slid his clothes and gloves back on. "It's late, and we've got classes starting at nine o'clock tomorrow…"

He grunted, nodded to Madame Pomfrey, and allowed himself to be led out into the corridors. They walked in silence, Hermione leading the way as Ed made a mental map of the school. He'd have to ask someone to show him around later…

Hermione stopped suddenly in the middle of a hallway, and Ed nearly ran into her. "What the—"

"This is the entrance to Gryffindor Tower," she gestured to a portrait of an enormous woman in an unflattering pink dress.

"Are you new, dearie?" the woman asked; Ed nearly fell over from shock. He knew pictures could move, but they could talk as well?

"Yes, he's a new fifth year," Hermione said brightly, and then turned back to Ed. "We have to give the Fat Lady a password to get into the common room. Right now it's Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

The hell? He turned the syllables over in his mind, trying to make sense of them. He didn't know all of the English words, but he had never heard anything even close to it! "Mimbulus Mimbletonia?" he said, reasonably certain it was correct.

"You're foreign?" the Fat Lady asked, her face lighting up in interest. "There were those visitors last year, but there haven't been any foreign students since—"

"Yes, I'm foreign," Ed said, his temper spiking. Seriously, had these people never heard of moving? (Even if that's not the case for us…) "Was that the password?"

"Oh, yes," she said, as if she had forgotten; by some invisible force, the picture frame swung open, revealing a circular opening. Shaking his head but deciding not to question it, Ed climbed through into an enormous, cozy living room of sorts adorned in scarlet and gold.

"The boys' rooms are over there," Hermione pointed to a staircase on the right. "Your room will be on the top floor."

Ed grunted and turned to walk up the stairs. "Night!" Hermione called after him. He only waved over his shoulder in response.

He soon found himself in a huge room with six beds and five other boys. He already knew Harry, Ron, and Neville, and there was also a boy with freckles all over his face and one with very dark skin.

"You're Ed, then?" Freckles asked, not sounding especially friendly. Harry and Ron were sitting far away from the kid, shooting him dirty looks; obviously there had been some sort of fight.

"Yeah. Who're you?"

"Seamus Finnigan. That's Dean Thomas," Freckles said, jerking a thumb toward the dark-skinned kid. "And apparently you know everyone else. Do you believe Potter, then?"

"What am I supposed to believe?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "I got to this country a month and a half ago. Barely know the kid."

"You have to have heard of You-Know-Who!" Seamus blurted out, looking shocked. "Potter's saying he's back, but it's a bunch of—"

"You-Know-Who?" It took a moment for Ed to realize that he did, indeed, know who. "You mean Voldemort? Well, yeah, I've got good reason to think he's alive. Why?"

Seamus sighed explosively and turned away. "You too? Stupid old man's corrupting everyone…"

"Dumbledore? He's a manipulative bastard. I came to my own conclusion. If you can pass off all those deaths in the paper as nothing, then you're an idiot." He spun around and walked back to his bed.

"Those are just isolated attacks, though, aren't they?" Seamus said, sounding very irritated. Ed felt a hand on his elbow, and, with great difficulty, resisted the urge to throw the scrawny kid across the room. "And anyhow, there aren't that many, and they're all spread—"

Ed gave into his instincts, and Seamus was flying into a bed on the other side of the dorm.

The only sounds in the room were Seamus' groans as he tried to pick himself up, until Dean overcame his shock to yell angrily, "What the hell was that? Totally uncalled for—"

"Those are people you're talking about," Ed hissed, furious beyond reason. He had expected the other wizard children to be stupid, but this—"Even if only a few people are killed, they're still people. I don't know what kind of sheltered lives you idiots have led, but the world isn't as nice as you'd like it to be. Grow. Up." He stomped the rest of the way to his bed and climbed in, only bothering to kick off his boots.

Nobody else said a word.

Bitch.

That was Ed's first thought when the pink monstrosity walked into the classroom. It was only his first class at Hogwarts, but he was supremely unimpressed so far.

Hermione was on his left, and Harry and Ron were at the table in front of them; all had pulled out their wands, books, quills, and parchment. Ed wasn't sure why. Surely, they had all read the book before class? Why would they need it now except for reference?

Bitch went on some sort of spiel about her class, and Ed listened long enough to learn that she wouldn't actually be doing anything as a teacher. Apparently, they would only be learning theory from a book.

Theory was all well and good, but it was utterly useless without practical application. He decided to say so.

"Raise your hand, Mister…?"

Raise my hand? "Why the hell should I do that? I'm pointing something out that is entirely relevant to this class. What's the point of teaching it if we're not going to learn anything useful?"

"Your hand, Mister…" she seemed irritated that she did not know his name, and he took great pleasure in not telling her.

"Why am I wasting my time sitting here if I already understand the theory? I can think of tons of stuff I'd rather be doing—"

He was pleased to see that many of his classmates were nodding; at least they weren't all total idiots. Harry shot his hand into the air—huh, that must have been what she meant—and said, "Ed's got a point. Are you actually going to be teaching anything? Or is it all from the book?"

Idiot! Potter had ruined his fun; Bitch had a name to call him now. But the look the woman sent his way was far too triumphant for such a petty victory. "Well, despite what your fellow student says, this is the Ministry-approved method, and we will follow it. Kindly open to chapter one and read it for the rest of class."

Ed grabbed his bag and headed for the door. "Where do you think you're going, Mister Elric?" the disgusting woman asked from behind him.

Hang on—when did anyone tell her my last name?

"I've already read the first chapter. The whole book, actually. I was under the impression that that's how school works. I've done what you've asked, so I can just leave now, right?"

The rest of the students were staring at him with a mixture of awe and surprise. Whoops, maybe this isn't how it goes.

Oh well.

"Elric—!" But Ed slammed the door behind him, heading upstairs to the dorms. Two hours until lunch… He could definitely fit a nap in if he tried.

"What did you think you were doing?" Hermione screeched during lunch. Ed winced; she and Winry were remarkably similar when it came to screaming. At least Hermione didn't carry a wrench around in her bag.

"I didn't see a point in staying. I had already read the book, so I left," he said nonchalantly, reaching for a bowl of stew.

"Brother!" Al said, slapping his hand away. "Even you should know not to do that! Mom always used to yell at us for skipping—"

"Yeah, yeah," he waved the worry aside and made a second try for the stew. "You haven't been in Bitch's class, Al. It's horrible. Even you wouldn't be able to stand it."

"But—"

"Mister Elric?"

Ed grimaced dramatically before turning to Bitch. "What?"

"I need a word with you." She was certainly trying to sound kind, but Ed had spent one too many years around Mustang. It wasn't a suggestion. He waved quickly to Al and the others—all of whom looked very worried—before following her to a corner of the Great Hall.

"First, what are you doing out of uniform?" The sweet façade was still up; Ed kind of wanted to puke.

"I don't want to wear the robes," he shot back. "There's no point to wearing a uniform. Next question."

She glared at him, dropping the fake face entirely. Ed was almost relieved. "I have it on good information that you destroyed a café in London at the beginning of August, and—"

"Wha—" Ed had been expecting anything but that. Where's she going with this? "A bunch of Death Eaters showed up and started killing people! I was defending them!"

"With a strange branch of magic that nobody has seen before," she said, her voice reduced to a hiss. "The Ministry doesn't like to be uninformed, you see, so if you would be so kind as to tell us about—"

"No," he said firmly. His temper was rising quickly, and as appealing as the thought was, he thought it would be a very bad idea to punch a professor. Especially one sent by the Ministry. "I'm not telling you one bit. I don't like to associate with idiots, you see, so if you would be so kind as to get the hell away from me…"

Her only response was to gape rather stupidly at him, so Ed turned on his heel and returned to his brother without a second thought.

What a terrible day…

Father—

Edward Elric is at Hogwarts, among the Gryffindor fifth years. There is also a fourth-year Ravenclaw named Alphonse Elric.

Do I have any further orders?