Yay! I updated! Gah, I've had this chapter planned for a while, but couldn't seem to write it out... Anyway, I hope it turned out okay. Please review! Don't be shy!
"Oh my goodness, they're absolute angels!"
"So adorable, Molly! Congratulations."
"What beautiful little boys!"
The large expanse of land behind a rather crooked house was filled with people. A party, evidently, and the guests had their eyes set on a pair of babies. A man and a woman, both with bright red hair, wearily thanked the crowd.
"Have you thought of names yet?" asked a woman with long brown hair and bright green eyes.
The redheaded woman nodded, smiling. "Yes. We've agreed on Fred and George."
"They're so mellow!"
"Yes, they've been no trouble at all! So quiet!"
"That's because they're always watching me!" whined a young voice.
"Bill, they're barely a month old. There's no way that they can-"
"I'm not kidding, dad!"
All of this sailed right over the blonde head of a certain alchemist, whose gaze was in a different direction altogether.
"Edward?" asked Albus, to no response. The old professor approached the alchemist. "What seems to be the problem?"
Ed shuddered and turned around. His eyes were sparkling, and he seemed surprised when he realized there were tears on his face. "N-nothing. I just… nothing."
Dumbledore sensed the boy's walls coming back up and changed the subject. "As you seem to have already noticed, that is Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle. This celebration is for the newborn Weasley twins. This was-"
"What is this?"
His voice was quiet and hoarse. "How are we here?" Edward laughed without humor, "This more of your 'magic' shit?"
Albus smiled benignly. "Yes, actually. This is but a memory. In fact, it took place more than seventeen years ago. We are not present at the scene, just witnesses."
Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if to compose himself. He nodded once. "Of course. This isn't real." He looked back at Dumbledore. "Whose memory is this?"
In response, the wizard simply pointed to his doppleganger, who stood in the throng making conversation with a man in glasses. "It is my own."
"Ah. So… Why did you bring me here?"
"All in good time. Make sure to keep me- the one in the memory- in sight."
Ed tried to do as he was told, he really did, but his stare kept wavering back to the Flamels. A haunted look was playing across his features, and whenever Perenelle smiled or laughed, he flinched.
It was enough for Albus to want to distract the poor boy, who was obviously in pain. But as it turned out, he didn't need to, as the cue he was waiting for came. Nicholas leaned over to his wife and whispered something in her ear before excusing himself and walking out to the side yard.
The 'younger' Dumbledore- he still looked the same- frowned. He said something to the guy he was talking to before following Hohenheim.
"Edward," said Albus gently. The blonde tore his gaze from Perenelle, then trailed after both Dumbledores.
Flamel had one hand pressed up against the wall of the house, while the other was covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle his coughing. But the part that really struck Ed was the blood staining Hohenheim's fingers.
Moments later, as Ed had suspected he would, Hohenheim stood, color returning to his once ashen face, dark circles disappearing from under his eyes.
Flamel seemed surprised when he nearly ran straight into Dumbledore on his way to the backyard. "Why hello there, Albus. What can I do for you?"
"Oh, nothing. I was on my way inside when I noticed you seemed to be in some sort of distress- do you require a healer?"
Nicholas laughed. "No, no. I'm perfectly fine. Never been better."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite. Don't worry yourself over me. I am quite alright."
Dumbledore watched with puzzled expression as Flamel made his way back to the party.
"That was the first instance of many where Nicholas exhibited these symptoms." Dumbledore- the present one-'s voice startled Edward. "I was reminded of him when I saw your condition." He smiled. "And, of course, your physical resemblance."
Ed colored.
"I think that should be enough," said the professor, and all at once, they were out of the pensieve. Edward stumbled backwards, almost falling over.
"No!" cried the boy. He had finally seen his mother alive again, for the first time in eleven years- even if it was just an illusion. "I- I mean…" he floundered for words, "What happened next?"
Albus considered him carefully before continuing. "The celebration continued rather uneventfully. I believe a table fell over at one point."
Edward nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. But before he could say anything, a knock on the door interrupted him. Severus Snape flew through the door, black cloak billowing out behind him and giving the potions master the appearance of an overbearing vampire bat.
"You asked for me, sir?"
"Ah, yes, Severus." Dumbledore nodded happily. "Thank you for coming."
"What's this about?" asked Edward warily.
The old professor turned to face him. "Severus may not be a healer, but he is quite gifted in the field of potions, as I have no doubt you already knew. What you may not have been aware of is that he is also adept in curative brews as well."
"You mean…?"
"No, I am afraid we will not be able to save you fully. But slowing down the process is definitely a reasonable goal."
The boy stared at Albus skeptically. Snape cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, but I am still not exactly clear on why I was told to come."
Dumbledore stood up. "Ah, yes. Of course. Why don't you go with Severus, Edward, and let him in on your little… problem."
"But-"
"I am sure he will be able to help."
Ed frowned, but did as he was asked, leaving the office. Left alone, Albus approached the pensieve once more. The wizard looked inside until he discovered the memory he was searching for.
Dumbledore leaned forward until he was inside the recollection. He found himself, yet again, in his office, though almost 17 years ago. He- the younger version of himself- sat at his desk, across from none other than Nicholas Flamel.
"I need you to take it."
"Take what?"
"Albus, you know exactly what I'm talking about."
Dumbledore sighed. "Nicholas, I understand your reasoning, but-"
"I don't think you do. Perenelle, she… well, she wants to have children." Flamel shuddered. "I have no intention of outliving them. Losing the stone will just make us able to age again. We will live a normal life."
The professor shook his head halfway through his friend's sentence. "No, you will not. Simply not having the stone in your possession will not stop Voldemort from believing you do."
"Exactly. That is why I need you to take it. We're leaving."
"There is no place where he will not find you."
"That is where you're wrong, Albus. I know of somewhere so deep underground, no one will be able to discover us ever again." Nicholas looked away. "Including you, Albus."
A silver eyebrow raised. "Really?"
"I have been searching for a way to get back to Amestris- this place- for almost my entire lifetime. Now that I know where it is, I… I am afraid I must leave. It makes the perfect hiding place, and besides, I have some unfinished business to take care of."
The blonde turned back to the professor. "This is goodbye, Albus."
Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. "I cannot fault you for your decision. You will be missed."
"Thank you, Albus. Please, keep it safe." Flamel retrieved a ruby red stone from his coat pocket. He hesitated, before saying, "I have one more request. It may be too much to ask…"
"What is it, Nicholas?"
"Could you act as though we were still here? Say we moved to the country or something like that. Perenelle and I are extremely solitary people, so it wouldn't make much difference. Just pretend we haven't gone anywhere until you have an excuse for us not to be. A mysterious disappearance… well, I'd rather not have it be looked into."
Albus smiled. "Is that all? I have done more difficult things. Consider it done."
A large smile broke out across Flamel's face. "I cannot thank you enough." He stood and shook Dumbledore's hand. "You're a good man, Albus. You've done so much for us over the years. I will be forever grateful."
He walked to the door. "Goodbye, old friend. "
That was the last time Dumbledore had ever seen the immortal. He did as he promised, and no one had suspected that Flamel was missing. Living for centuries had caused the couple to isolate themselves from society, so not many callers came, and they were easily waved off.
Albus of the present had found what he was looking for, and was expelled from the pensieve.
Amestris… I shall remember that.
…
"What're Death Eaters supposed to be?"
Hermione was surprised by such a direct question, and even more so to find Professor Elric didn't know what a Death Eater was.
Edward had approached her after class, a serious look on his pale face as he quizzed her.
"Everyone is freaking out about these 'Death Eaters' escaping from 'Ask-a-ban,' and I have no idea what they're talking about."
And Hermione understood. It was only the second day of the term, and the whole school was in chaos over the Azkaban breakout, reported in this morning's news. Edward, who seemed to be the most stubbornly "muggle" person she had ever met, would have no way of knowing.
"Death Eaters are followers of Voldemort. They were put in Azkaban, the wizard prison for doing unspeakable things. Ten of them escaped yesterday."
Ed nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. Thanks."
"Anytime," said the girl. With that, she exited the classroom.
Sighing, Edward pulled a flask from his jacket. He looked at it for a moment, frowned, then took a drink. "Ohh, shit, that's bad," he muttered. But though it tasted terrible, the horrible feeling at the back of his throat disappeared for the first time in weeks.
…
Alex Louis Armstrong was well known for many things. His ability to work under pressure was not one of them.
Alphonse was well on his way to finding out what General Mustang was up to. It obviously had something to do with Ed, Al had seen the books and maps in his office from his many trips there after being discharged from the hospital. It was rare to find him at Central HQ, as Mustang was constantly missing. The only one who seemed to know anything was Armstrong.
The newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel may have been able to keep a secret, but this was about Edward. Armstrong was far too emotionally invested in this one to keep much of anything from the younger brother.
"I know General Mustang thinks he's keeping me safe, really, I do… but I can't just sit on the sidelines while he looks for my brother. I just… can't."
It wasn't even an act.
"You don't have to tell me what he's doing, just where he is. I need to know. Please, Lieutenant Colonel. I want to help."
The giant man's resolve was waning, Al could tell. He felt a ray of hope. Just one more little push. "I need something to tell Winry. She's been so sad ever since brother… disappeared." Al hated to play the Winry card, but anything to get in on the secret. Besides, it was true.
That was all it took. "General Mustang made me promise not to tell you… but he never said anything about his location… I believe he is at a hotel in the city presently. Room 414." Armstrong shook his head. "I shouldn't be telling you this."
"Thank you so much! You've helped so much, Lieutenant!"
"That's what I am afraid of, Alphonse."
…
Al was lucky there weren't many hotels in Central City. He quickly found the place, and pressed his ear to the door.
"... every month or so."
"So it's random? There's no pattern at all?"
"Well, I'm sure there is. We just haven't-"
"What does it matter?" Al gasped softly. He knew that voice. "We can just camp out around it, can't we? Wait for it to work?"
"Izumi, I don't have that kind of time?"
"What the hell do you mean by that, Mustang? This is Edward we're talking about!"
That was what Al was waiting for. He slapped his hands together and transmuted a hole into the door. Three sets of eyes turned to see him.
"Tell me everything," he demanded.
Izumi looked amused. "Hello, Al. Nice seeing you here."
Al was astonished to find she wasn't angry.
"I told you he'd find out, one way or another," she said, looking at Mustang. "There's no point in keeping him out of this."
"Izumi… Look, Al-"
"I'm afraid Mrs. Curtis is correct, General," Hawkeye intoned.
"What?" cried Mustang. Hawkeye sighed.
"Roy, Edward is his brother. It wouldn't be right to keep him out of this."
Mustang closed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself. "Alright, Al. Let's get you up to speed," he growled, pulling out a map.
