Heya! Please, I beg of you, don't kill me! I know it's been a month... and I have no excuses... wow, I really don't make a good case, do I? Anyways, I'm here now. Focus on the present, right? Hehehe...

Well, please enjoy, and don't forget to review!

Am I dead?

Is this what being dead feels like?

Damn it, what's Al going to without me? Winry?

How the hell did I die?

Wait…

Can you feel pain when you're dead?

...

The first thing Edward Elric noticed was that it was dark.

The second thing was that he felt as though he'd been run over by a truck. He groaned, trying to raise an arm to bury his face. That didn't go so well, as moving turned out to be much harder than he'd expected it to be.

"Edward? Are you awake?"

This elicited yet another moan, as Dumbledore's voice turned to ice shards and stung like a night on Briggs mountain.

"Please, look at me if you can."

Ed didn't feel like doing much of anything, but this unending blackness was getting to him, and he hated not knowing what's going on. He attempted to open his eyes, but only succeeded in cracking a single eye open, and even that took a monumental amount of effort.

"Thank you, Edward."

A snarky comment faded as the alchemist registered the coppery taste in mouth he knew all too well. His other eye flew open as memories came rushing back to him. Sloth who wasn't Sloth. The huge monstrosity in the forest. The ground suddenly becoming closer to his face than he had expected.

"Wha…?" he croaked, then immediately regretted it. If he thought someone else talking to him hurt…

"What happened? Honestly, I have no idea. As far as what I've heard from Hagrid, you appeared out of nowhere and attacked him, decided against it, and then collapsed. He took you back to his hut and alerted me of the situation. He was so kind as to let me speak to you alone."

Ed tried to sit up. It was slow going, but eventually he managed to lean against the headboard of the gigantic bed he had been laid in. The alchemist looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, warm and filled with… were those animal skins? Everything inside was monumentally large, and made Ed feel even smaller than he actually was.

"I was also told that you begged not to be taken to the hospital wing," Dumbledore continued. "I would ask you why that is, but you seem to be indisposed at the moment, so I shall hold my questions until you regain your voice. I did cast a spell on you that should remedy that problem, but I'm not sure how effective it will be on you."

The old man regarded the young over half moon spectacles. "Edward, are you aware of how serious your condition is?"

Ed looked away. This horrible illness, his punishment for committing the greatest sin known to man, was something he tried to push to the back of his mind, to ignore and pretend it didn't exist. Coughing fits were blamed on light colds, headaches came from staring at a book for far too long.

He'd almost come to believe his own excuses.

"I am astonished that you've been able to hide your ailment for this long, even from your students." Dumbledore would have looked amused if it wasn't for the concern that marred his kind face.

Edward cleared his throat. He knew speaking wouldn't do him any good, but didn't much care. "Yeah?" he muttered, testing his voice.

"Do you know what is causing it? I have my suspicions, of course."

At that, Ed looked up far faster than he should, and a spike of pain ran through his head. He winced and brought a hand to his face, but said, "What do you think?"

In truth, Edward didn't have a clue as to what was wrong with him. Albus gave him careful look. "How well do you know Nicholas Flamel, or, should I say, Van Hohenheim?"

The alchemist froze.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"Because I have noticed many..similarities between the two of you."

"Oh. Well, I have been told that we look a lot alike," smiled Edward, hating every painful word. Hohenheim may have redeemed himself in the end, but he'd always be that stone cold face in the study to Ed.

"That is not what I mean. There have been an overwhelming amount of parallels in your story and Nicholas's."

"C-coincidence?"

"Maybe," the old wizard mused. I would like to get your thoughts on the matter. Come to my office as soon as you feel up to it."

"Why not now?" asked Ed, alarmed.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Why not now? Because that adrenaline rush I'm sure you're experiencing will likely only last you long enough to reach your office."

Taken aback, Edward realized that he was already fading. "A-alright," he stuttered, confused beyond belief. Standing up unsteadily, the alchemist approached the door. Every step hurt, but Ed pulled through it. I've had worse, he thought.

The walk up to the castle was slow going. Dumbledore followed Edward, acting as though he didn't notice the pain plastered on the blonde's face. For that, Ed was grateful. He got the feeling that if it had been someone else, Harry Potter, for example, the old wizard would have been supporting him the whole way. But he seemed to know that Ed would hate that. It would be blatant admittance of weakness. So Albus kept his distance, though a watchful glance would be thrown Edward's way every few minutes.

When they got to the young professor's office, Ed was exhausted, and looking forward to sleeping through the rest of the day. "The password for my office is 'Fizzing Whizbee'. Goodbye, Edward," called Dumbledore, though the blonde barely heard a word. He nearly fell onto his bed, and was asleep in seconds.

…

Phineas hated this job. The kid he'd been assigned- assigned! Of all people!- to follow never did anything aside from read and write in a little notebook all day. It didn't take the ex-headmaster three hours to note book titles.

He'd been staring at the kid for so long, the portrait's mind began to wander. Why did I agree to do this? He shook his head at his own stupidity, recalling his first conversation with that Umbridge woman. The smile she had given him was satisfied, and caused instant dislike.

"Hello, Phineas."

Dark eyebrows rose. "I see you know my name. Would you grace me with yours?" he drawled in bored voice.

Color rose to the already fairly pink lady's face. "Dolores Umbridge. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is there a reason you had a picture of me drawn? Are you some sort of fanatic?"

She flushed even deeper. "No, no. Well, I am a fan. I agree with your principles wholeheartedly and hope that we can get along."

Phineas, secretly flattered to have a legitimate fan, scoffed.

"It's true. In fact, I had hoped that you would want to help me in… continuing your legacy, shall we say?"

There it was.

"Ah, I see. That's wh-"

"No!" she cried, panicking. "No, that's not it at… well, it is, but only partly! I really am a fan!" Regaining confidence, she continued. "I know that you ruled this school with an iron fist, delivering justice to-"

"Will you stop with the theatrics and get to the point?" sighed the Slytherin. She nodded curtly.

"In the years since you've been gone, this school has gone to the dogs, as I'm sure you can see, what with that fool Dumbledore being headmaster. Now he's introduced a new professor." Umbridge's doughy face contorted in disgust. "Edward Elric," she spat, like the name was poison.

"I take it you do not think highly of this Elric."

She laughed, a cringeworthy sound. "How could I? He's a brat, only a teenager, and still was hired to teach a dead magic! He's probably some sort of mercenary, or a spy. I know he's up to something." Her beady eyes found Phineas again. "That's why I sent for you. I need to keep tabs on him, find out what he's up to."

"Mm. Need is such a strong word. Do you really need my help?"

Umbridge took a deep breath. "Yes, I do. Edward Elric is hiding something important. I could barely get anything out of him with veritaserum! Veritaserum! He's befriended the Gryffindors! Everything about him is just… the opposite of what a professor should be!" Her eyes were blazing with the fervor reserved for the passionate or obsessed.

"And why would I help you?"

That shook the professor out of her stupor. "Why?" she asked, like it was unthinkable Phineas wouldn't want to help her. "Because if you catch him in the act, I have a case against our good headmaster. I would be next in line for the job. Wouldn't you rather a Slytherin be in office?"

Phineas had to admit, she had a point. Now, he regretted taking this 'job' with his entire being. He was almost excited when the boy ripped his gaze away from the text he was poring over, looking thoroughly unsettled.

When he left, Phineas smothered a sigh, then followed through the pictures on the wall.

…

On the last day of winter break, Edward found himself staring down a gargoyle. Dumbledore's office was supposed to be right here, but as far as he could tell, the statue had replaced any semblance of a door.

Suddenly, a piece of information from a few days ago resurfaced in the alchemist's mind. "Um, Fizzing Whizbee?" he said, feeling exceedingly stupid while doing so. To his surprise, the words seemed to have some effect on the gargoyle, as Edward was granted access to the hidden office.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Edward," called Dumbledore, looking up from his desk and smiling at the blonde.

"Yeah… so, why am I here, exactly?"

The old professor stood, then approached a large bowl by a wall. "Do you know what this is, Edward?"

The alchemist shook his head.

"It is something called a pensieve. It is where I store all of my memories, so I can clear up headspace without forgetting."

"Okay… and what am I supposed to do with it?"

"That is simple. I would like for you to look inside."

"... Alright." Trying to hold back a disbelieving laugh, Edward stepped towards the receptacle and turned his gaze to the bowl. He gasped when suddenly the water inside was no longer water. It had turned to an aerial view of a party scene.

Ed leaned forward to get a closer look, when he found himself much closer than he intended to be. Suddenly a part of the party, the blonde whirled around, only for a tall man to walk straight through him.

Not screaming was becoming a struggle.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Dumbledore's voice came from Edward's left, and he looked at the old man with wide eyes. "To be completely ignored?"

The alchemist nodded absently. He had all but forgotten the headmaster. Tears had begun to pool in his eyes, and Ed walked forwards as if in a trance.

"Edward?" Dumbledore had most certainly not forgotten him. The old man followed the young's gaze. A man and a woman stood arm in arm, laughing at someone's joke.

The man had long blonde hair and glasses, while the woman had gray-blue eyes and dark chestnut ponytail. Edward was locked on them, and Albus could have sworn he heard the boy whisper, "Mom?"