The Scientist's Lament

Chapter 12

Ash, an Alley, and New Allies


"Why can't we go with them to Diagon Alley, mum?" the Girl Ginger said, a certain fire in her eyes. Ed blinked. He knew from his own attempts at out-stubborning the Matron of the Red Hair that she wasn't going to back down from her decision.

"Tonks can't watch all of you, Ginevra!"

"I'm fifteen! I don't need watching!"

Ed blinked again, and began to tune out the argument as it continued. He exchanged glances with Alphonse, who was in the middle of a large helping of eggs. Said in Amestrian, "What's so special about this Diagon Alley place?"

Al shrugged, swallowed, said in the same tongue, "From what I've read, it's a big trade center here. Every wizard in Great Britain goes there from time to time."

What? "That can't be right. This country isn't that small. There have to be other market places."

Al rubbed the base of his skull, swallowing down another mouth of eggs. "There are," he said. "But the largest is Diagon Alley. And I guess distance isn't a factor when you can apparate or travel by fireplace or broom."

Wizarding transportation. Ed had not gotten his mind around the fact that wizards could literally teleport. He took a bite of his own eggs and looked back up at the ensuing spat.

Ed looked at the Matron of the Red hair. She crossed her arms, said, "I won't have my children out of the wards any more times than necessary and we haven't received booklists yet."

"But-!"

"No."

The Girl Ginger flopped into the chair next to Alphonse with her arms crossed and her hair in her face. She huffed. Loudly. Suddenly an image of himself superimposed itself over her, and Mrs. Weasley morphed into the picture of Colonel Bastard. Ed snorted.

"You think this is funny, do you?" Mrs. Weasley snarled, glaring at him. "You're going to get yourself killed with that attitude."

"Eventually," Ed said. "Kind ov amazing zat I'm not dead yet."

"Brozer," Al said. "Don't say zat."

Ed wasn't done. "But zere are reasons zat I'm still alive," he said. " I am serious vhen I need to be."

"Oh really?" Matron of the Red Hair said. Ed huffed. Hadn't he nearly attacked her when they met?

"I vill corroborate zat," Al said. "He has good instincts and zey haff kept us both alive."

Mrs. Weasley had a mulish gleam in her eye that spoke to both determination and a deep seated fear. She took a bite of her own plate of eggs, chewed, swallowed. "I hope that those instincts can help keep the children of Hogwarts alive, even if you're almost a child yourself."

Ed nodded. "I vill do my best." Experience had taught him that he couldn't save everyone, but he was still damn well willing to try.

"Does this mean you're willing to count Ed as able to watch me in Diagon Alley?" Ginny said, having followed the conversation closely, brown eyes wide and curious.

"Nein," Ed said. "Not knowing zee terrain vill hinder me greatly. If Frau Veasley is unwilling to let you go alone vis Tonks? My skills von't make zee situation better enough to make a difference."

Ginny was just opening her mouth to fire out a retort when there was a sound knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" Mrs. Weasley called.

"It's me!" Tonks said.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to have learned something since Harry's arrival, for she slid on the chain lock before opening the door only the crack that the chain would allow. She peered out, wiping her free hand nervously on her apron. "Where did we first meet?"

"That Ministry staff party Arthur brought you to three years ago," Tonks said.

"And why were you there?"

"I was in Auror training at the time."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, undid the chain, and threw open the door. "Come in, come in! Eggs are still hot on the stove if you'd like some."

"That'd be lovely," Tonks said, chin length grey hair curling up and turning rosy at the ends in pleasure. Ed shuddered. That was still an unpleasant surprise, seeing Envy's power duplicated here.

"Tonks!" Ginny said, jumping from her seat. "You can manage me tagging along to Diagon Alley, can't you?"

"Wotcher, Ginny," she said, looking both amused and puzzled. "I don't see why not."

"No," Mrs. Weasley said, heading off the budding triumphant look on Ginny's face. "No, no, no."

"Well," Tonks said. She seemed about to argue in Ginny's favor with the Matron of the Red Hair, but caught Mrs. Weasley's gimlet eye. Ed suppressed a laugh when Tonks visibly gulped, said, "I supposed that's the word, Ginny. Sorry."

"Fine," Ginny said, voice high and hard. With a swish of red hair and a slamming door, she was gone.

Ed laughed, and laughed harder when Al visibly slid down in his chair to escape the tension in the room. "Reminds me of myself at zat age," Ed said by way of explanation. He ignored Al's answering cold stare that said You were her age last year, brother.

So what?

Was he mentally and emotionally her age last year? Ed didn't think so. Tonks laughed, but the Matron of the Red Hair huffed, putting a dish of eggs before an open chair. "Of course. She causes me enough worry that I just about believe it."

But Ed had better reasons to be head strong than Girl Ginger. He did. He stuck his nose into the air. "Anyone who vorried about me knew vat zey vere getting into."

"Vell," Al said, spoon halfway to his mouth. "I couldn't get fair varning from zee vomb."

Tonks, comfortably sitting in the chair on Ed's other side, snickered behind her hand. Ed glowered. "Vas?"

"Nothing," Tonks said. She popped a bit of bacon in her mouth, and Ed was sure it was solely for the excuse not to explain herself. The four of them ate in a silence broken by vigorous chewing all around - Mrs. Weasley was an excellent cook, and Ed had to admit, whatever hocus pocus she did to keep the eggs hot was entirely welcome.

When the dishes were cleared and Al had taken the last of his morning potions, Tonks made an effort to chase away the last of the mirthful pink that had crept into her grey hair. "Blast," she said. "Still not back to normal."

Mrs. Weasley put a comforting hand on her shoulder and pulled a hand mirror from the air with a simple twist of her stick. Ed twitched. Even knowing that Alphonse, at least, couldn't possibly be using one in his own small attempts, Ed couldn't help but look for a small red stone to fuel the trick. He watched with measured suspicion when the mirror was handed to Tonks and she screwed up her face with effort.

It took her five minuets to get back the soft salt-and-pepper she was going for, to bring crows feet to her eyes, lines about her mouth and arms. Tonks handed the mirror back to the Matron of the Red Hair, and with another bit of stick-work, the hand mirror was gone.

Ed shuddered. Energy and matter cannot be created nor destroyed. The words wound through his head in a loop; a soothing mantra for his scientific soul. Nothing can be gained without giving up something of equivalent value in exchange. Didn't Ed know that to be true? Weren't those the words he'd lived by since the failed transmutation of his mother?

So intently did he stare at the air from which the hand mirror disappeared, he didn't notice Alphonse and Tonks stand until they were waiting by the fireplace.

"Bruder?" Al said. "Are you zere? Vake up."

Ed blinked, and Tonks gave him a grimace-smile. "Wotcher, Ed. Glad to see you back among us," she said. "You got everything? Wallet?"

Ed nodded, stood from his chair in a clean motion, hands pressed to the scrubbed wooden table.

"Zank you for breakvast, Frau Veasely."

"You're welcome, Edward," she said. "Be safe."

Ed managed a small smile in the Matron of the Red Hair's direction. "I alvays try."

She nodded, stood on her toes to pull a sack from the mantle place. Oh no. Ed had become accustomed to seeing the Patron of the Red Hair leave by that fireplace every morning. "Thanks, Molly," Tonks said, reaching her hand into the sack. "Have either of you done this?"

"No," said Alphonse, but Ed could see excitement glimmering behind the first layer of apprehension on his brother's face.

"No," Ed said. "And I don't vant to try. I didn't sink zat your 'muggles' could vork any ov zis hocus-pocus."

"It's the powder that's enchanted for this one, Ed," Tonks said. "Won't make a difference, because it's someone else who worked the initial magic."

Ed glowered. "And vhy can't vee take a train?"

"A train?" Tonks said, eyebrows beginning a turn to an amused lilac. "That would take way too long! Why would we bother?"

"It's a better vay to travel zan zis schite," he grumbled, looking at the fireplace with disdain. Tonks laughed quietly, linked her arm through his, and focused her eyebrows back to grey.

"Watch closely, Alphonse!" she said, tossed the powder into the flames. "Diagon Alley!"

Ed was bodily pulled passed the hearth. Why on Earth is this fire green? He wondered at the chemical composition of the powder - the transport he had no explanation for, but perhaps the colorful side effects could be explained - but as he and Tonks began to move, a lurching nausea began at his navel and he couldn't focus his mind away from that discomfort.

The eggs that the Matron of the Red Hair had so kindly made without milk for him were working their way back up his throat. Stay down stay down stay down! And as suddenly as it all began, it was over.

He was not-so-gently deposited on a different hearth in a different building. Tonks stuck her landing, but Ed himself was not so lucky. How could anyone get used to this? He was desperately fighting to keep his breakfast down, and there was Tonks, looking just mildly green around the gills.

Ed rolled his eyes, gulped firmly, and began to stand and wham! He was back on the ground, a heavy weight on his back. That weight spoke.

"Vhy vas zat so hard?" Alphonse had arrived, and did not seem to realize that he was on top of him.

"Get off!" Ed said in Amestrian.

"Oh! Brother! I'm so sorry!" Al said, all but rolling off of Ed's back. Ed grasped Al's hands, and they pulled each other up.

"Is all hocus-pocus travel zis stupid?" Ed said to Tonks. She laughed, stopped herself. Tugging at her chin length salt-and-pepper.

"Just about," she said, limiting her mirth to a wry smile. "I would've warned you, but I wasn't about to deal with you in a full-on fit."

"I do not haff fits," Ed said, sticking his nose in the air. His anger was righteous. Always. Definitely.

"Ov course you don't, brozer," Alphonse said, Ed flinched when Al put a hand on his right shoulder. Mrs. Weasley had brought about real improvements he grudgingly knew, but it was still more sensitive than his left.

"Anyvay. Zis doesn't look like a shopping center," Ed said. Now that he was present enough to be aware of his surroundings, he could plainly see that he was in some sort of pub.

"You think there are fireplaces outdoors in an open market?" Tonks said, raising a single eyebrow.

"I don't know vat you people do," Ed said.

Al shrugged. "Actually, I too vould like to know vhy vee are in a bar."

"Oh come on!" Tonks said. "Don't all those muggle fantasy books start in a seedy looking bar?"

Ed blinked. Come to think of it, they'd first woken up in this world slumped against the red-brick side of a bar in the disreputable part of Berlin! "I guess so," he said. "So. Vere do vee go vrom here?"

"This way!" Tonks said, waving both Ed and Al through. They pushed through the back door of the bar only to find another red-brick wall.

"Vat zee hell is zis?"

"Shush," Tonks said. "The entrance." She pulled her hocus-pocus stick from her grey robe and tapped the bricks on the wall in a sequence Ed was careful to memorize. He wasn't sure it would work if he did it, but maybe it was the original pocus that counted, like the powder.

He had steeled himself against further amazement and embarrassment. But he couldn't help himself. His jaw dropped to the floor when the wall folded outward from the middle, delicately molding itself into an archway.

What?

Beyond that arch was the most colorful place Ed had ever seen. The only place that even came close was Winry's Rush Valley.

"Amazing!" Al said from beside him. "No vonder Miss Ginny vanted to come so badly!"

"And this is Diagon Alley at the glummest I've seen it," she said, heaving a deep sigh.

"Glum is not zee vord I'd use." Ed put a hand to his pocket, clutched at his watch. "It is hard to believe zat zis place could be any more vibrant."

"Well. It usually is," Tonks said, heaving a sigh and beginning to walk down the busy street. If Ed was not mistaken, her salt-and-pepper turned just a tad darker - the underbelly of a storm cloud. "Come on. We've got a few places to hit up, and very little time to do it. Molly made me promise I'd say hi to her boys, so."

Her boys? Ed was not sure he could handle more children from the Band of the Red Hair, but he knew that there were a lot of them. "More ov zem?"

Tonks did not laugh. "Yes," she said. "The twins own a shop in this market. I think you'd like it."

"She has children everyvere," Ed said.

"They're a talented bunch," Tonks said. "They've mostly managed to do well for themselves."

Mostly? Ed opened his mouth to ask what she meant by mostly but was stopped by a quiet shake Alphonse's head. "Vas?" Ed said. Al's shake grew more vigorous and finally he just spoke himself.

"Vhere are vee going first, Miss Tonks?"

"Just Tonks, if you please," Tonks said. "And the bank. We need to exchange over Ed's money."

"Exchange? You people haff your own currency?"

"It came up in zee books I vas reading," Al said. "Vat vere zey called again?"

"Galleons." Tonks was unusually curt.

"Like zee Spanish ships?" Ed wasn't about to cater to her suddenly foul mood - he was going to ask his questions, even with Alphonse's elbow in his side.

"I guess," Tonks said. "Never really thought about it too hard."

Alphonse cut Ed off from saying the disparaging comment he wanted to. Al said, "Vat are zee ozer coins?"

"Knuts and sickles." Tonks pulled an example of each coin from her pocket. "Twenty nine knuts to the sickle, seventeen sickles to the galleon."

Ed took the coins from her; turned them over in his fingers. The chemical composition came to him like all things alchemical did, and he was surprised to find that the level of gold in the galleons was not reflective of their weight. "Do zey haff some sort ov your hocus pocus to make zem lighter?"

Tonks just shrugged. "Probably."

"Are you okay, Miss Tonks?" Alphonse said, and Ed decided that Al was right to do so. There was clearly something wrong with her.

She shrugged again. "As good as I've been lately," Tonks said. "Sorry if it's obvious."

"Vell," Ed said. "Var is var. You're not zee first to mourn a loss."

"Take all zee time you need," Al said - Ed felt a swelling in his chest at that, and Tonks gave a somewhat watery smile.

"Come on, the shops won't wait all day," she said and promptly led them down the bustling market, pointing out her favorite storefronts as she went.

Diagon Alley passed in a blur of fantastical colors and dubious advertisements, all narrated by Tonks's faux cheer. "And this," she said, sweeping her arms out, "is Gringotts!"

Enter stranger but take heed... "Zese bankers ov yours don't haff much ov a filter, do zey?"

"They don't," Tonks said. "Wizards take advantage of them, if they don't make themselves crystal clear."

"Zee bankers aren't vizards, zen?"

"No," Tonks said. "Of course not. They're goblins, what else?"

"Goblins?" Al said. "Zey came up a few times in zee books."

"Vat are zey?"

"Might be easier just to show you," Tonks said, and pushed open the great oak doors of the bank. When the front desk came fully into view, Ed's heart dropped to his stomach.

He had not fought for the freedom of Amestris just to face those self same problems here. He had not.

"Vat monster did zis to zem?" Ed said, demanding.

"No, brozer," Al said. "No one transmuted zem!"

"I'm not following," Tonks said. "They're goblins, Ed."

"It's like zee creatures in zee books I vas telling you about," Al said. Vaguely, Ed remembered wondering what fantasy novel had vomitted all over this universe, but in the place of the goblins, he had a very hard time not seeing Nina. Not seeing the other chimeras that had subsequently suffered.

"I am supposed to believe, zen," Ed began. "Zat zis is simply zeir natural biology?"

"What else would it be?" Tonks said. "Anyway, you exchange your money over at the booth on the right."

Ed gulped, nodded, and counted out what money he'd been hoarding from the high school. That was the benefit, he supposed, of being kidnapped by wizards. Room and board was provided. He approached the desk.

"How may I help you?" The goblin was as malformed as Nina had been, and her desperate cries rang unbidden through Ed's mind.

"I vould like to transfer my money into zee vizard currency."

"What currency do you have now?" The goblin pushed his spectacles up his long pointy nose; he did not seem to be in pain.

"Pounds," Ed said, handing over the pile of bills. The goblin counted out the bills with nimble fingers - there was no slow lumber of agony.

"I will be back," the goblin said, disappearing behind a swinging door. He came back not three minuets later with a hefty looking sack. "Do you have a rough idea of the way it works?"

"One vitch explained it to me," Ed said, gesturing at Tonks. "But a clearer explanation vould be sehr gut."

"Wizards," the goblin said, voice dripping with derision. "They don't understand money. You want to know something? You come to us, you understand. No need to associate with them more than you have to."

"You can tell zat I am not one?" Ed asked, hair antenna unfurling a full inch in bemusement.

"You don't seem stupid," the goblin said. "It would be an insult, to mistake you for what you aren't."

"Vat is your name?" Ed asked, laughing. "I like you."

The goblin smirked. "Nyorok," he said. "And you are?"

"Nice to meet you, Nyorok. I am Edward Elric," Ed said, thrusting out his right hand. "Call me Ed."

Nyorok nodded, handed over the sack of hocus-pocus-money. With the clipped tones of efficiency, Nyorok explained the system the currency followed, and the exchange rate - going over how it compared to both pounds and euros, something Ed appreciated immensely.

Nyorok explained all those inconsistencies that Tonks had never wondered about - how it was goblin magic that enabled the lighter weight of solid gold. How the coins would never loose their shine or chip or wear away. How their very qualities were designed to prevent runaway inflation.

Tonks and Alphonse stood awkwardly in the backdrop, but fuck 'em, Ed decided. For the first time since he'd found himself mixed up in this hocus pocus nonsense, someone saw fit to give him unfiltered answers to his questions.

He left the bank with many of his fears assuaged - wizards may all be crazy, but there were others mixed up in their sphere of influence. And those others hadn't lost their minds yet.

"Vat next?" Alphonse was the first to ask.

"The booklists haven't arrived, and the Weasley's get good deals because they buy in bulk. So I would wait on their trip for everything except the wand," Tonks said. "Ollivander's is back by the Leaky Cauldron, so if you two can come back around this way..."

On the walk back up, Tonks ran a commentary on the people they passed in the street. "Rogers buys every stupid fake amulet on the market ... Johanson sells every dodgy amulet on the market. Lots of people buying those lately. Keeps us aurors more busy than it should ... oh and there's Mrs. Figg. She breeds cats. She's probably selling more dodgy kneazle kittens as we speak."

"Kittens?" Al said, hope brightening his voice.

"Oh no," Ed said.

"You know," Tonks said. "Kittens. Like baby cats. Well. Baby kneazle-cats in this case."

"I know vat a kitten is," Alphonse said, craning his neck for a better view.

"No," Ed said in Amestrian. "No cats, Al. If hopping around our country was too hectic to own a cat, hopping between universes makes it an even more definite no!"

The tips of Tonks's grey eyebrows went a tickled pink. "Mrs. Figg's cats are very reasonably priced."

"Vee may yet go home to Germany!" Ed said. "It vouldn't be fair to zee cat!"

Tonks heaved a sigh. "S'pose your brother's right on that one, Al."

Al's brows crunched together. "He alvays is." Ed knew that he was right on this score, and thus stuck his nose into the air. As much as he wanted Alphonse to have his dream pet, it would have to wait until they were home and Al had a clearer idea of where he might want to settle down.

Tonks maneuvered so that she was between them; Ed flinched when her hand landed on his delicate right shoulder. A new abscess was rising to the surface of his skin. It was sore, but not quite ready to be excavated by the deft hands of the Matron of the Red Hair just yet.

"Ollivander's is just this way," she said, pushing both Ed and Al forward at a brisk march. He glowered at her over his shoulder, but her grip and pressure was firm. And besides, he wanted to get away from the kittens - a physical manifestation of all of the things Ed had been completely unable to provide Al with - as quickly as possible.

"Zat is zee stick maker, yes?" Ed said. Tonks hummed her agreement, but said no more. For just as he asked the question, they pulled up before a store so labeled. And clear even from the window, the magic sticks were their sole ware.

"How about you two go in together?" Tonks said. "Tradition to go it alone, it is. But I don't see Ed having another opportunity to witness this. And Mr. Ollivander is an experience, to say the least. Have fun."

Tonks all but shoved Ed through the door after his brother - Al had needed no prompting to rush the door. A hush settled over Ed when the door closed, the atmosphere rivaled the old dusty libraries of Amestris but had none of their calm. Ed didn't quite know what to make of it.

The feel of the room made it clear; this world held the same reverence for magic that Ed's held for science and knowledge.

"Is anyone even here?" Alphonse said quietly in Amestrian.

"There must be," Ed said in the same. "The sign was flipped to open."

"True," Al said, then switched to English. "Hello?"

Ed had noticed that Al's accent was changing to match the locals. That was another thing Ed didn't know what to do with. His accent was staying stubbornly in place, thank you very damn much.

There was an abrupt rattling sound and Ed found himself sliding into a stance, hands pressed together. At his side, Ed felt Al move into place, ears pricked.

"Oh my," said the reedy voice of an old man. With him had appeared the source of the noise; the Old Man had come into view on a sliding ladder. His perch gave the old man the advantage of higher ground, but the frailness of his limbs had Ed sliding back into place.

"Sorry," Ed said, feet now together but knees still ready to spring. He eyed the floor, feeling out it's chemical composition and envisioning the darts he totally wasn't about to pull from the floor. He'd not been planning to do so anyway.

Really.

It wasn't part of any of Ed's plans, anyway. The old man gave Ed and Al a small smile that made Ed's insides churn. Old Man, in a quivering and gentle voice, said, "I don't suppose you're here for a wand?"

"Zat is vhy I'm here," Al said from next to Ed - Al's own smile seemed tentative, but it was there.

"While I'm glad to help any young wizard switch from Gregorovitch to Ollivander, I must ask. Whatever happened to your first one?"

"Gregoro-vat?" Ed asked, unable to quite contain himself.

"Zis is my first vand, actually," Alphonse said apologetically, kicking Ed in the shin. "I'm a little late to zee game, Mr. Ollivander."

"Well, I'm glad to see continental wizards buy from the very best, as opposed to just supporting your own countrymen."

Well then. Ed wasn't about to get into a nationalist pissing match over a country he only pretended to call home. Let alone in a culture that had no place for him.

"Not zis Grego-person's vault vee happened to relocate to zis country."

"Oh," Ollivander said, pushing his glasses up his knobbled nose and perhaps looking a little disappointed. "Well, I'm always happy to provide one's first wand."

Ed had to try very hard not to scoff. Provide my ass, he thought. With the price of these damn sticks, it was more along the lines of highway robbery. Old Mustache drew his own stick from his sleeve, and with a flick, tape measures began to invade Al's personal space.

Perhaps par for the course, Ed felt a protectiveness rear its head. One step, two steps, and he was reaching for the measuring tape that had pulled itself the distance of Alphonse's nose. But even as he extended his arm to pull off those tapes, Old Mustache Man appeared before him with a sound like a gunshot.

He pulled his punch just in time.

Ollivander was surprisingly unruffled. "I need the information," he said. "It often ends up having a great deal to do with wand length and speciality."

"Vhy is it zat your vizard hocus pocus schisse is alvays so damn schtartlink?" He could feel himself loosing his grip on his English - the day had been to a moment overwhelming and Ed just wanted to be sitting in his dear Amestrian libraries.

"Magic can be difficult for people like you to accept," Ollivander said. A muscle in Ed's neck clenched.

"Vat, Muggles?" Ed said, spitting the word.

"Well," Ollivander's mustache trembled. "For some muggles, yes. But I meant scientists. Academics."

Ed felt the fight leave him in a great whoosh. Deflated, he looked over at Al who was so mesmerized by the floating measuring tapes that he'd not even spared the exchange a glance. "Oh."

"Why don't you wait outside," Old Mustache said. And for once in his life, Ed didn't want to argue. Especially not with these crazy wizard people.

"Vine," he said, paused. "If mein bruder is even remotely harmed by any of zis, zere vill be hell to pay."

"I know, son." Ollivander said. "I would expect no less."

Ed nodded. "So long as we are agreed."

Ed flinched when Mustache put a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him away from Alphonse and towards the door. "It may take awhile. There may be explosions. Please don't be alarmed."

"Explosions?" Ed said. "Vas?" But Ollivander was strong for such an old man, and Ed found himself shoved out of the door to spend the longest hour and a half of his life.

After an hour of pacing, Ed became aware of a heavily disguised Tonks hiding in the background. He ws careful not to look too closely. If she was determined to lurk, Ed would let her. But he wouldn't give her anything suspicious to work with, damnit.

So he continued to pace - even when the movement began to pull uncomfortably at his automail port and when his metal leg began to weigh heavily on his left hip. But he'd walked further before, walked till he was sure it would fall off and even further than that. It had never failed him, and it wasn't about to do so now.

He kept pacing.

Even through the thick draperies over the windows, Ed could see blinding bursts of colored light and hear explosions. At one terrifying moment, the windows exploded outward; it was all Ed could do to duck to avoid the shrapnel.

When the glass finished falling, Ed bolted for the door, only to run into thin air. Literally like it was a god damn concrete wall. He shouted curses at the top of his lungs in Amestrian, everything from the tip of Ollivander's nose to the soles of his boots were assigned profanity at random. When it became clear that his cursing would yeild no results, Ed paced again.

For an additional twenty minuets Ed paced. He paced up and down the cobbled stretch before the shop until Alphonse came out of the door, a big smile on his face and seemingly unhurt.

"Are you okay, Alphonse?" Ed said in Amestrian, clasping his hands over his brother's shoulders and inspecting him for damage.

"I'm fine," Al said in the same. "Apparently there are always theatrics in the wand getting process."

"That is such bullshit," Ed said.

Al smiled patiently in a way Ed did not quite appreciate, said, "Would you pay up, brother?"

Ed scowled, nodded. Because what else could he do? Alphonse waved him inside the shop, but stayed outside himself.

When Ed looked to the shop, it showed no evidence of the many explosions he had heard, there was Mustache, standing calmly behind the counter. Their eyes locked, and Ed would be damned if he were the first to look away. "Ash, sturdy and a full and unusual fifteen inches. Phoenix feather for the core. Definitely favors transfiguration work, but also demonstrates an enjoyment of charms. An excellent wand."

"Vouldn't you vant all of zee wands you make to be excellent?" Ed asked, eyeing the long thin box on the table warily.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Elric," Mustache said, picking the box up off of the table. "An excellent wand will only ever choose an excellent wizard. I need to have stock for the bottom line."

"You talk like zese vands of yours are alive."

"They are," Ollivander said, "In their own sort of way."

Ed's mind when straight to soul bonding, but Mustache - with his eerily penetrating gaze - shook his head. "Magic leaves a mark on things, Mr. Elric," he said. "And wands are the most magical item most wizards will ever own. Creation leaves a sort of consciousness, and with continued use that consciousness only gets more acute."

Ed was about to cry bullshit, but Ollivander said the only thing that could stop him from doing so. "It works in the same way that usage of intense alchemy leaves its own mark. It's left its mark on you. On the item who's life pulses in your pocket."

"How vould you know about zee vatch?"

Mustache smiled. "It is an amplifier, is it not?" Ed nodded and Ollivander turned the wand box over in his hands. "I'm rather in the business of amplifiers."

"Zat is one vay of putting it."

"Well," Ollivander said, handing Ed the wand. "That'll be eight galleons, I do believe."

Mustache shrugged when Ed's jaw dropped. He shook his head, swore, pulled the eight galleons from his bag, and wondered just how much of Alphonse's other things he would have to buy used and from bargain shelves.

Ed extended a hand for a shake, Mustache took it. "If you would like to hear more on magical theory, young man, come back. I would be more than happy to talk with someone who is legitimately interested."

They shook hands, and Ed felt Mustache press a piece of parchment into his hand.

Ed blinked. Was Ollivander offering him access to his research? "Thank you," he said. "I'll be teaching Alchemy at Hog vatever, but I vill take you up on zee offer vhen I have zee time."

Ollivander nodded, and Ed was struck with the thought that Mustache probably already knew what his deal was. How far Dumbledore's network reached, Ed was not sure. There was something about Mustache that Ed found himself liking. You can't trust him, Ed. No matter how much you might want to.

Ed gave Ollivander a tight smile, took his leave.


Word Count: 5566

The longest chapter we've had yet! Again. They may just keep growing. Who else is surprised by Ed's tentative friendship with Ollivander? I sure as hell am.

Up next we've got the twins. Gearing myself up for that characterization.

I thought long and hard about Alphonse's wand. Part of the reason of this chapter's delay, actually. (In addition to this summer being all sorts of crazy and upsetting.) But the decision was made today. If any of you have anything to say about the wand I chose for him/not actually showing the wand-buying experience, leave it in your review and I'll pm you about why I made the decisions I made in regards to it.