A/N: Ed centric chapter..you'll see why...

Ed discovered he literally couldn't open the front door. He was quick to remind them all that he was still the unwilling guest of the house when he tried to punch straight through it with his right. The door withstood his best blows, and he would have continued with his left leg, and even tried against the wall, if Lupin hadn't pulled him away.

Afterward, he just sat on the stairs, looking at nothing. He wanted to DO something, but his aching head fuzzed up his thinking enough that his mind flaked out more often than he'd like. He knew it made performing any alchemy too dangerous a risk to take. Which, in turn, meant he was stuck.

He found he was largely excused from cleaning the house by Mrs. Weasley, both due his concussion and the burn at his neck. He knew she thought she was being kind, but a big part of him told him something else.

"Convienent of her. Ignoring the fact that I am essentially a prisoner.." He muttered in Amestrian, and wrinkled his nose in his distaste, knowing the words were harsh for the motherly woman, but rung true none-the-less. At the time, he bitterly looked at the front door again and toyed with the idea of giving it another go.

He barely tolerated the nearly hourly changing the bandage apparently needed. He loudly insisted he could do so himself, but each time was firmly told, "NO." by the various people tasked with the chore. At times, it was Mrs. Weasley. But Remus (not "Lupin" he reminded himself) and Sirius also took turns. They each always slavered a thick layer of a smelly cream on his neck that looked like it had no firm color at all, right before the new bandage was applied and duly taped in place.

He was aching to get a good look at the burn in the mirror. (Dammit, it itched like hell. He knew how to handle pain, but ITCHING? It was just so... maddening!) He often made a quick visits to the bathroom to do just that, and found he couldn't get a good grip on the tape at all. So far, he managed to give up rather than tearing into his own skin, but having his neck all bloody was increasingly becoming a real temptation.

The lack of good reading material was driving him to distraction nearly as much as the itching at his neck. Hermione had been good on her word and had let him borrow the thick book called, 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', but it was hardly a challenge at all. He'd finished it and returned it to her within an hour. He nearly laughed aloud at its contents. The only things he considered useful bits were the ones that mentioned things he found disturbing about the "Ministry"; Things that were considered essential to the continued existance of such creatures. As he wandered about the house, he often saw more objects run off on their own, fleeing before Sirius and Harry's attempts to clear them out.

'Did they HAVE to put blood seals on EVERYTHING...?' He thought, finding himself staring. 'Just how many idiots ARE there in this 'wizarding world'?'

He met Harry's joy-filled eyes and just shook his head. Walking away rather than mention anything about it. He didn't want to ruin Harry's joy after what he had witnessed Harry endure at his uncle's place.

When he sat on the stairs, he saw that people came and went. All doing things for the "Order". Often, the people would try to ask him questions, or strike up polite conversation with him when he wandered by. Some even tried to get him to join them for the meetings; he shook his head and walked away when he heard such requests. He had better things to do than that.

He learned the name of the Greasy Hair man was 'Severus Snape' when he stopped by for a quick visit, but he didn't speak with him. He offered a polite nod at the man from where he was sitting on the stairs at the time, which was, however slight and stiff, returned. When he went to the room he shared with Ron and Harry for the night, he found he was pestered for any and all news he happened to overhear while he was downstairs. Not just by those two, but by the twins, Hermione, and Ginny. He saw jealous stares, and incredulous looks from them all. He shrugged them off, trying very hard NOT to scratch at his neck as he flopped to the mattress and drifted off to sleep.

One day drifted into the next. Ed was as often as not rudely awakened by the twin's pranks or "short" taunts, which they had discovered, to their amusement no doubt, worked just as well as a pillow attack to wake him. So far, someone was always around to hold him back from beating them both bloody every morning they chose to do so. He hated to think of what he was capable of when he was barely conscience like that...in that state of mind. Let alone unconscious.

'The twins probably wouldn't survive, or be recognisable as being human at one time once I was done with them. Or finally woke up enough to make myself stop.' He mused darkly. 'Al would've...no..don't go there. Not now...I don't need to be thinking of him right now.' He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand. 'I miss him...'

Though he was practically climbing the walls with his boredom, (It wasn't THAT bad an idea...he had considered it, but decided the ceiling was too low to be a real challenge...) his headache ebbed away within a week. And the itching on his neck diminished to a tolerable level a few days after.

He was absently rubbing at the bandage, enjoying his morning coffee, when the balding red-headed Mr. Weasley joined him at the table.

"Morning Edward." Mr Weasley said cheerfully, with a bright smile on his face.

Ed nodded in his general direction, and leaned his chin on his left hand. Coffee mug and its precious contents held firmly in his gleaming metallic right. He was in yet another borrowed, colorful, long sleeved sweater, and borrowed long pants. He hadn't bothered to braid his long hair today, choosing, instead to pull it back into a ponytail.

"No cheer before I get trew first cup, please." Ed grumbled.

Ed heard a slight nervous laugh from the man, and scowled slightly.

"Fair enough." Mr. Weasley coughed into his fist, and began with a polite "How are you doing today?"

Ed glared at the man.

"Get to point, Sunshine. VWhat do you vwant?"

"Well, um..." Mr. Weasley said.

Ed raised a single eyebrow.

"It's not me, actually. Um...Dumbledore wishes to meet you."

"Vwhy?"

"You'll have to ask him, I'm afraid." Mr. Weasley said.

Ed scowled.

"I have no vwish to meet dis Dumbledore. I vwant to get back..." Ed nearly said it out loud. Then changed his mind. " ..to my life."

Mr. Weasley sighed, and looked down a moment.

"I know how you feel.."

Ed snorted. "Do not make me laugh." Ed growled and took a gulp of his steaming coffee.

"I meant to say that I know you're angry at this whole situation you're in. But believe me, it was necessary. All of it. You have no idea..."

"I have good idea what dis is really about, Mr. Sunshine. Tell dis Dumbledore I vill not meet vith him."

"Edward.."

Ed got up from the table, and walked away, leaving behind his precious coffee in its mug. He was just past the door of the kitchen when something landed on the top of his head. He blinked, and he glimpsed what looked like a barn owl swoop down and land on the stair rail just ahead of him.

"You better not have just spit up on me, bird." Ed grumbled in Amestrian, as he reached up his left hand. The owl looked at him with it yellow eyes and clicked its beak.

It was an envelope. A rather large, yellow envelope. It wasn't very thick; it maybe, at best, contained a single sheet of paper. On the front, where the address should be, was just his name.

'Hand written by the looks of it.'He thought.
He flipped it over. On the back the envelope flap was sealed closed by a large wax seal, at the center of which was a large capital "H". Curious, he cracked the seal and opened the envelope.

The letter read as this:

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Surpreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Elric,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the date for which shall be duly advised.

Please ensure that the utmost attention be made to the list of requirement attached herewith.

We very much look forward to receiving you as a part of the new generation of Hogwarts' heritage.

Sincerely.

Albus Dumbledore.

He didn't bother to read the rest, but in spite of himself, Ed cracked wide smile as he folded it back up.

"You gotta be kidding me!! School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Ed said in Amestrian, then snorted, and shook his head. "Well. At least now I have some paper to get to work on the equations."

Intent on doing just that, he headed back upstairs. Once there he headed to the room he shared with Ron and Harry, and to his complete annoyance, he couldn't find a thing to write with. He folded the envelope and stuffed it into the back pocket of his borrowed pants, and went to go search another room.
He went from one room to another, (interrupted by the annoying hourly bandage changes) ended up searching all day, and still found nothing. Only when he stomped down back into the kitchen for dinner, did he find something that vaguely resembled a writing utensil: A quill and ink bottle. They were stashed over by the hearth. At that point he really didn't care. He'd have even been happy with half-melted crayons.

With a cry of victory he grabbed them and settled into a seat at the table.

"Not at the dinner table!" Mrs. Weasley said, and deftly took them away. He graced her with his most furious scowl, but she pretended she didn't notice. She then placed before him a bowl of rich stew, which he promptly devoured. He even helped himself to seconds when his stomach rumbled noisily enough that the twins laughed at him from across the table.

The table was cleared, and he dutifully took his turn washing the dishes. Manually. Ignoring the stares and raised eyebrows as he did so, simply refusing Mrs. Weasley's offer to magic up something like automatic dish washing brushes. To him, it was simply faster to wash the way he was used to. Soon, he found himself alone once more in the kitchen.
He dried off his mismatched hands on a handy rag, and found the quill and ink. He settled himself once more at the table, and took out the envelope. He unfolded the paper to its blank side, and soon lost himself in the hum of alchemy. It's most basic of equations flowing though his mind like music, just waiting for him to coax out complex melodies.

He didn't notice the others entering the kitchen. He felt a hand on his left shoulder breifly, and he brushed it off with a flick of the quill and an annoyed half-growl. He soon reached the end of the page and flipped it over, continuing on in the blank spaces of the letter. He took out the envelope, tore it open, and continued ever on in what space he had availible. Then finally, he had to stop, as there was simply no more paper to work on.

"Tsk. Haven't even got a quarter of it calculated...Must be losing my touch.." He grumbled in Amestrian.

He put down the quill after a tap or two, and began to check his work carefully from the beginning for mistakes, rubbing at his neck bandage absently with his left living hand. After a few moments, he put the papers down completely with a disgusted bang of his metal right hand, entwined his mismatched fingers together before him, and stretched both his arms over his head. Then..he blinked.

He was not alone at the table. Not anymore.

He raised an eyebrow, and hooked his hands behind his head, looking at each person steadily. He noted that he knew most of them already, as he had seen them come and go over the past week or so. He noted that Severus Snape was not in attendance. Nor was Moody.

An old man, with a long white beard long enough to tuck into his belt noisily cleared his throat. Ed flicked his eyes in his direction, meeting and holding the blue eyes behind half moon glasses.

"Edward Elric, I presume? I have recently heard so much about you from members of the Order, but it is good to finally meet you for myself. I am Albus Dumbledore."

Ed had to blink again. The man spoke to him in flawless Amestrian.