Hey, y'all! I know, I know, what took me so long to update? I have no excuse, but I hope this makes up for it.

Although, full disclosure, there will be some gore towards the end of the chapter, though I'm not sure how 'gory' gory is, but there's blood (a lot of it) involved. I'm not sure how you're going to skip it going forwards, since a lot of the next few chapters will be mentioning it at least once. Frankly speaking, I'm just hoping I've written the scenes tastefully enough so as not to appear too much.

That being said, I guess I will just insert a note before and after the gory scenes so that you could skip it if you want (I'll put in the end note a summary of what happened so that you don't miss anything).

Other than that, there's nothing more to be weary of, other than the potty-mouthedness of the storyteller, since this IS Ed's chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter 8: Edward

I was walking, yes walking, through the Other Side of the Gate. For once, no inky black hands were pulling at me, no deconstruction at the cellular level, no volumes upon volumes of incohesive data shoved carelessly into my mind. I was at peace, surrounded by the astronomical bodies that now light up the place. I was walking, but there was no floor, only an endless expanse of the night sky above and below me. There was no horizon, only space.

I wasn't alone, either. Truth was walking beside me. He said that his presence there with me was the only reason why I was granted safe passage (Yeah, you won't believe the initial shock of finding him beside me after I just left him on the other side of the Gate, that damned omnipresent being). He was also explaining the basics of this world I was about to go to. Apparently, physics and science, as I know it, is different there from where I came from. For starters, as Truth was trying, but horribly failing, to convince me, magic exists over there.

"Magic?" I asked skeptically.

"Not 'magic'," he drawled, "Magic!" he said with enthusiasm as he made spirit fingers with both hands.

"You're shitting me," I scowled, raising an eyebrow.

"Am not!" He huffed, almost with a pout, except his stupid grin was still plastered firmly in place. "This world has magic, but not everyone can use it. People who do use magic are called witches and wizards."

"What? Like with the pointy hats, matching robes and stupid wands?"

"Exactly."

I smirked at him, "And then next you're gonna say they fucking fly on brooms and laugh that creepy 'iiieeeeheehee-heehee' laugh witches always do in stories?"

"Well, the laugh is optional, but the flying broom IS a thing over there. Though that is not the popular choice of transportation. Most of them just teleport, using a wand or some object they call a 'portkey'. Others transport by using the floo or chimney system, or some other creature drawn carriage. Broomsticks are largely used for leisure and sports."

I blinked at him, but his stupid grin never faltered. "No, way."

He nodded his head.

"You're kidding!"

He nodded again, but his grin grew wider.

"Fuck you!"

At this, he laughed. "No thanks, besides, I believe I physically cannot be fucked, if you know what I mean," he said sarcastically. I could almost feel him wagging his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, the hell you didn't!" I said rolling my eyes at him

He chuckled lightly. "But seriously, though, this world is nothing like yours. Your rules don't apply here. Neither does your alchemy exist."

My head snapped at that point. "There's no alchemy over there? The fuck do you want me to do over there? Beat them up with my fists?"

"Okay, first off, a fist fight was exactly how you've beaten Father, just to remind you."

Fine, touché.

"Second, what I said was that your alchemy does not exist over there. They do have alchemy, just not as advanced as yours. They defined alchemy as the art of transforming lead to gold or making the Elixir of Life. But they soon declared it as a dead art, with so little practitioners and very limited understanding. Later, it became the basis for what they call Potions Making and Transfiguration, a transmutation that rarely followed the principle of Equivalent Exchange."

"Wait, backtrack a bit. You mean they can bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange?!"

"Well, yes and no. Magic does not follow the same rules of your alchemy because they are fundamentally different. A whole different set of rules govern their magic that would, likewise, be inapplicable to alchemy. Although, in a sense, that's one of the many reasons why alchemy, as you know it, didn't advance over there as much as it did in your world. Magic can be somewhat more flexible and has a lot less dire consequences ," he said, indicating my left leg that he still has. "I'm keeping this, by the way. I've grown rather fond of it."

I waved him off, "Meh, Winry loves doing my automails, anyway. She says I'm her biggest customer. Wouldn't exactly want her to lose her cash cow."

Then I realized that I haven't exactly said goodbye to Winry. I wonder how she is right now. Truth, I hope that she's okay. I would really rather her beat me half to death than find out anything's happened to her. Shit, I might get the beating of the century when I get back, but I'd take that over her being hurt, or worse, crying any day.

Truth was silent for a long while. When I finally looked in his direction, I saw him staring at me, his grin somehow more mischievous than before.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking to myself how the future looks so bright," he said in a dreamy voice.

It took me a second to process what he said. Then it clicked, and I must've been blushing really hard, because he started laughing his ass off. "Fuck off, you asshole!" I mumbled at him, trying desperately to get the heat off my cheeks.

Truth continued to explain to me the things that I need to know about the world he's sending me into. So far what I've understood is this:

Magic most definitely, probably, maybe exists, and there are some possibly delusional, completely, clinically and pathologically insane people who believe they could do magic with the help of a piece of wooden stick they call wands.

Unlike the alchemists who live by the code of "being for the people", these so-called witches and wizards hid from the rest of the world in fear of being persecuted for what they are, which was what happened to so many of them in the ye olden times. Apparently "normal people" do love burning, killing, drowning, torturing, etc magical people.

And yes, I do mean magical people, as in more than one kind. Magical humans are called witches and wizards. Some other magical creatures of relative intelligence also exist, like elves and goblins and centaurs. Others exist as magical beasts, kind of like the result of a chimera experiment gone horribly wrong. But Truth assures me that these things were born this way and that their appearances are what they looked like in nature.

Anyways back to the wizards. Turns out, they're all complete bastards. Aside from segregating themselves from non-magical humans (they oh, so lovingly refer to as "Muggles", "No Maj", "Non Magie", whatever, depending on what continent you're on), they also implement among themselves a strict division of classes, based on what they call "blood status" - it refers to how pure of a wizard you heritage is, by the way. "Pure bloods", as they refer to themselves, think themselves better than most, especially those they call "Muggle-born", or the more derogatory term "Mud bloods", or witches and wizards with normal people for parents. Witches and wizards with mixed parentage automatically fall under the classification of "Half Bloods". There are also wizard-born muggles, they refer to as "Squibs", who don't inherit the magical abilities of his parents.

But anyway, the main issue over there right now is that there is this dude - Baldyfart? Moldyshort? Goldiewart? I don't give a fuck what his name is - who wants to kill most and possibly enslave the rest of the normal people to let his so-called chosen followers inherit the Earth. He'll stop at nothing, even killing his own kind and disturbing his own blood's grave to get what he wants.

More than two and a half decades ago, when a handful of wizards stood up to him, a war broke out. Although, I am very doubtful whether these people really know what it means, especially since they hardly even have a proper government! Whatever, I do not want to rationalize that right now, it's all semantics, moot and academic at this point, anyway.

The war dragged on for another decade or so. Then, a prophecy - yes, a fucking foretelling of the future - said that some kid was destined to kill the "Dark Mold"...

… or be killed by him.

Either way, bad guy tries to kill the kid before it becomes strong enough to actually be able to kill him, but instead of stabbing or strangling the kid (seriously, how hard could it be to kill a baby a year old?), he decided it was a good idea to shoot the kid with some killing spell that backfired on him, killing him instead.

Or so the rest of the world thought. Apparently, the lucky bastard somehow managed to survive the spell that was supposed to be an instant kill. Even Truth didn't exactly know how that happened. Following some shady voodoo ritual about a year ago, the bastard somehow managed to come back to full strength. Though I don't see how the bones of his father, the flesh of his servant and a few drops of the blood of his enemy (the kid he tried to kill before) could've bought him a new body. Whatever, again, I don't want to even begin to rationalize that right now. Point is: he's now alive and well, not quite human, but just as powerful as ever, if not more.

Now he openly wreaks havoc in the world, and apparently no one knows where he is. Then there's the issue of their savior being no older than Al. A lot of allies betraying allies, a lot of convicted criminals set loose, a lot of innocents dead, killed in broad daylight. It's a real fucked up time over there right now.

So, my mission: to kill the Mold, because apparently, the wizards are too much of a wimp to do it themselves. Shit, even saying the Fart's name makes them soil their shorts.

Throughout the entirety of his explanation, I can feel the information seeping into my mind, like how information is stuffed into your head when you go through the Gate. But this time it's more compartmentalized and easy to process.

Apparently I've been taught a new language system, too. "English" was what the natives called it. The base language is easy enough to understand, but some of the grammar and syntax rules are complete and utter nonsense. Still, far easier to learn than Amerstrian, Drachman, Cretan or Xingese. Not to mention the dead language Xerxian. All of which had been carelessly shoved into my mind back when I was eleven.

"How long have we been here, anyway?" I kept looking around, but the scenery didn't seem to change much from where I entered. "Feels like we've been walking for hours."

It was weird. My mind tells me that I've been walking for hours, that I must've walked at least ten miles by now. But my body doesn't feel tired, or at least not anymore than when I first got here.

"Well, you must know by now that this is a pocket dimension existing between the crevices of the different time-space continua of the multiverse. Here, an eternity and an instant are one and the same thing. Time is irrelevant in this space because it has too much of it and none at all, at the same time."

My face screwed up in confusion. "I don't think I really got that."

Truth sighed, "Let me put it to you this way: think of the multiple universes like many different strands of space, strung across the length of time. Like how a rope consists of many strands twisted and knotted together, the multiverse is the rope made up of many different universes, or strands, each with their own timelines. The universes are intertwined together, yet remain distinct from each other. With me so far?"

I allowed my brain to process that a bit before nodding.

"The Realm of Truth, as you've dubbed my place, is the space in between universes, where the strands meet and rub together. Not a dimension of itself, but simply the void in between the strands. Hence, a pocket dimension.

"Now, the Gates of Truth are actually places where the different strands rub together. Sometimes, the rubbing creates tears in the fabrics of time-space. If left unchecked, these tears could run and quickly turn into a gaping hole, where anyone could easily fall through to the other side. To avoid this, the tears were reinforced and sealed up with a Gate. That's why I said that the Gates lead to another universe. Interestingly enough, your universe has the most number of personal connections to a Gate."

"Really? So no other people have connections to a Gate? Why's that?"

"Some other people from other universes also have connections with a Gate, but not as many populations in one universe as there are in yours. Why this is so, I don't have the clearance to let you know.

"Anyway, back to the main point. This pocket dimension has no string of time which it follows, but wraps around and between the different timelines of the multiverse. Thus, time is irrelevant in this space. I can have an eternity in an instant and stretch an instant to an eternity. From here, I can access the past, present and future of any universe within the multiverse, that is, if I've been given clearance. Although trespassing into the Realm of Truth, via committing the taboo, gives me premission enough to meddle in the affairs of mortals. Do you get it?"

"I think so. So why the heck have we been walking if you can get us there instantaneously?"

"You're a smart one. Yes, I can get us there 'instantaneously,'" Truth answered, childishly doing air quotes, "but I thought you'd enjoy the stroll. Besides," he snapped his fingers and the world spun around me, whizzing me through space to stop abruptly at a Gate, not unlike the one I'd left behind so long ago. "I do need to brief you if I want to ensure maximum success, right?"

"Fine, whatever," I said, desperately trying to stop myself from hurling my guts out. "I go through here, right?" I asked, referring to the Gate in front of us.

"Yep, but before that," he snapped his fingers again, and my cuts and bruises from the fight earlier were healed. My clothes were also mended and restored, even my trademark red, leather trench coat. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he said, "This is as far as I can go. The year is 1996, location: somewhere in Wiltshire, England. Remember: look for Voldemort and kill him quickly. The multiverse does not take lightly to interuniversal travelers and will attack you since you are not of this world. My protection can only go so far."

"Wait, attack me? What do you-?"

The Gate started opening and a blinding white light was on the other side. "Good luck, Edward Elric. Come back here alive." Then he pushed me through the Gate.

I was falling (why was it that I am always falling when I go out of the Gate?). Falling through an endless expanse of whiteness. Below, a thin gray line appeared. It started opening to reveal a familiar large, gray eye with concentric black rings around its pupil. Black hands reached out from within the eye to catch me. Then, they pulled me through the other side.

I landed with a painful thump. The first thing I saw was a pair of silver eyes and a head of shockingly platinum blonde hair. Behind him were the creepiest set of eyes I've ever seen. They were a bright, glowing crimson red with slits for pupils and a killer's gleam in them.

But there's something more to them than just being creepy. Something about him just feels… wrong. I peered closer into his eyes, not really sure what is setting off my internal alarms.

GreeLing, or mostly Ling, whenever he overtook his own consciousness, tried to teach me to read chi during our time together before Promised Day. I didn't really get much since the total time he taught me was roughly two hours, cumulative. Apparently it takes waayy more than that to learn to read chi, let alone the entire complex network of the Dragon's Pulse. I've only managed to recognize the flow of life energy flowing through other living things if and when I concentrate hard enough, but it wasn't enough to differentiate one life force from another, let alone use it in combat like the Xingese do. And most of the progress I've made wouldn't have been possible without my previous experience with soul transmutation, using a Philosopher's Stone and converting my own life force as a source of pure energy.

Although, now that I think about it, there is this heavy thickness in the air ever since I got here. Could it be easier to read chi over here? If so, why would that be? It's like there's some weird pressure, and it's overwhelming my senses. It feels like this massive array that's been left activated, thrumming, filling the air with energy. Yes, that's it, there's this electric quality in the air that tingles my skin like that of alchemy or alkahestry or...

... or like the feeling of being inside a Philosopher's Stone.

This feeling that's teeming with energy is exactly what it felt like when I reached into Pride's stone during that last battle in Father lair. Well, minus all the pain, agony and confusion of the hundreds or thousands of souls trapped inside. But this thick, energy-laden atmosphere, it feels unnatural.

But if this is what the norm is for everything else, which, a quick scan of the room, confirmed that it was so, then I guess the reason why Baldy over here gives me the creeps is because he feels different from everything else. Instead of radiating and thrumming with energy, he's like a void that sucks them all in. And I, for one, am not comfortable with that idea. The analogy almost reminds me of the endless, soul-sucking abyss of the Gate.

He straightened up slightly, cocking his head to the side as he appeared to study me. "I do not remember reading about that in Grindelwald's diary, and neither have I invited anyone else over. So the question is," he brought a slender white stick up to my face, "who the fuck are you?"

"Okay, you're going to have to help me figure this out, 'cause there's something wrong with you, other than your bald, creepy ass head." I groaned as I shifted into a crouching position. If I do say so myself, my English sounded okay for a first-time speaker.

Some woman behind me protested, "How dare you address the Dark Lord in such a disrespectful way?!"

I turned around and was met by a gaunt woman, with unkempt, thick, curly, black hair that hangs down over her face. She had yellowed teeth and large, crazed eyes framed with thick, long lashes. Her lips were as red as her face was pale as her eyes and hair were dark. Now that looks like a witch!

I turned back to the pale man in front of me. He was still behind the silver-eyed, silver-haired boy, but straightened up when I stared at him. "So you're him, the Dark Mold, Lord Voldiesnot? Mind if we lose the excess baggage," I gestured to the other people in the room, "and talk privately, Voldie? You don't mind if I call you Voldie, do you? Or do you prefer Baldy?"

"HOW DARE YOOOOUUUUU?!" the same woman screeched as she pulled out a stick, her wand, I realized, from the holster on the side of her hip.

The weirdest sensation passed through me. I can feel the energy of the room, for lack of a better word for it, shift and concentrate on the end of her sti- wand. I saw something pulse and ripple around her, flowing toward her hands, absorbing into her wand. The wand started to thrum and radiate in her hands. It all happened in an instant, but I saw it like it was in slow motion. Huh, this must be what chi looked like to the Xingese.

"Avada Kedavra!" The woman shouted.

Battle-honed reflexes and instincts are what made me roll out of the way, just in time to see a ball of green light whiz past me, barely missing me by a hair, past the two in front of me before hitting a wall in the far side of the room, dissipating.

What the fuck was that? That couldn't be magic, could it?

It felt like pure energy, pure compressed energy shot at speeds at least as fast as a bullet. But it disappeared into nothingness, dissipated into thin air. I wasn't sure what that energy ball was supposed to do, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to find out.

The woman was posing to fire again, but I was quicker. I drew up a transmutation circle in my head, one for transmuting oak, which is what the table was made of. I clapped my hands together and slammed them onto the hardwood surface.

Blue alchemic energy sizzled off the reaction, shedding a harsh light on every surface. The wood of the table started to give, deconstructing and reconstructing into a large, wooden hand, pinning the deranged woman to the wall behind her. She was trapped so snuggly that she could barely wiggle her fingers or turn her head to glare at me as she cursed loudly.

Everyone was evidently shocked with that simple transmutation. They were staring wide-eyed at the table-turned-hand. A large crevice formed on the table, a good chunk of it was used in making the hand. The other woman beside the one pinned to the wall had her eyes wide with shock, a hand covered her mouth as she gasped. A ratty, fat man hid in the corner the second the transmutation started.

Total people count: two women, one hostile, one cautious; three men, one coward, one boy and the Mold. I think I can handle the odds, 'been up against worse, anyway.

Just then, the table creaked and groaned under my weight. I must have miscalculated the material distribution for transmuting the hand. One part of the table has thinned out so much that I've accidentally compromised its structural integrity. Oops.

The table came crashing down, with me landing hard on my ass. Idiot! What a fucking stupid, rookie mistake! The occupants of the table managed to move back just in time to not be caught under the debris. From the corner of my eye, I see the woman still trapped by the wooden hand, because the fingertips stuck into the wall, but just barely. She'd be out in no time if she wiggles hard enough.

"What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Lord Moldyshorts shouted. Seems like he was mourning about something as he frantically searched among the debris. His red eyes glared at me with such hatred and murderous intent, although I'd say it's still nothing compared to Teacher's. He then stood up and drew out his wand from within the folds of his robes. He raised it and aimed it at me.

My peripheral view caught some movement. I turned my head to look just in time to see the largest snake (well, not counting Envy, that is) I've ever seen posing to attack. I managed to catch its massive jaws just before it sank its four-inch long fangs into my jugular. The snake hissed loudly as it struggled to get its jaws free. Its massive body found its way to wrap itself around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I let one of my hands go from the beast's mouth to pull on its tail that's wrapped around my neck. But my right arm was still greatly atrophied from being on the other side of the Gate for so long, it hardly budged the muscular member strangling me. I can't believe I'm missing having my automail.

Lord Foggysnot circled around me so that he is now standing directly above me. He knelt down, his robes swishing beneath him, and whispered to me, "I would kill you myself, but I rather think that it is dinner time, and Nagini needs to feed."

I was losing consciousness fast. I could feel my oxygen-deprived mind slipping as it screamed for air. But the snake was relentless in crushing down on my windpipe, while its jaws snapped closer and closer to my face. My hold on the creature was faltering.

I was about to pass out when I felt the pressure lift off my airway, I greedily gulped air, wondering what had happened. When I was conscious enough, I saw the snake writhing, as if in pain. The pale blonde boy was kneeling next to its tail, touching its scales lightly. I thought I saw something creep from the boy's hand and seep into the snake's skin, but I guess that's just the remnants of the dark spots in my vision that just wouldn't go away. After a few more seconds of writhing, the snake stilled. Then, I realized that it was dead.

"Nagini!" if Lord Froggiewart wasn't mad before, he is definitely furious now. "What did you do to her, Draco?!" He raised his wand at the boy's face.

At that, the boy snapped his head up, as if from a trance. He looked confused, then alarmed, then scared, terrified as I felt the same energy flow into the tip of the Mold's wand. He stood up off the ground and backed away, but he hit the wall right behind him. I know he'll be throwing a similar energy ball as earlier. I feel the energy in the room start to move and concentrate towards the wand's tip. The man's chi gathered and fed into the wand, as well. I scrambled up on my feet, in an attempt to stop him from firing. But my oxygen deprived body refused to move as I wanted it to.

Green light started forming at the tip of the wand, and I know that it'll be firing soon. It was as if time slowed down. It was only a few steps away, but it felt like miles. I knew that I could never hope to get to them before he fired the spell, but I've got to try.

Suddenly, the other woman jumped in front of the boy, taking the hit from the Mold's wand, full force. She collapsed into the boy's arms as the green light faded. The boy was left standing, eyes wide in shock, his arms supporting the limp body of the woman.

"MOTHER!" the boy cried as he fell to his knees, cradling the woman's head in his arms. He swept away hair that had fallen into the woman's face as he continued to mumble to himself, pleading the woman to wake up. But even from where I'm standing, I could clearly see that she was dead.

Was that what the green light did? Instant death? Their magic can cause instant death? Truth told me so, but fuck! That shit is real?

I clapped my hands together, quickly forming a circle and activating it in my mind. I slapped my palms onto the marble floor and it rose into a sphere closing around the Mold, encasing and trapping him within.

As soon as he was trapped inside, I ran towards the boy. He was still crouched beside the womans' body, cradling her head in his arms, rocking on his heels as he continued his thoughtless mumbling. "Come on, hurry!" Yanking him by his arm, we burst out the door.

The boy was still obviously in shock of what had happened. He did not resist in any way, but his eyes had a blank expression. I dragged him along, rounding corners, going through doors and shutting them behind us. I had no idea where the heck I was going and I didn't know why the fuck this place was so big. It was like a maze in here. I hoped I was going the right way.

Suddenly, the boy yanked his arm back. I turned around to see him glaring at me. "What're you doing? We have to keep moving."

"What's the point? What's the point, anyway? Mother is dead now, and I have no one left. So what the fuck is the point, anyway?"

I grabbed him by the shoulders and slapped him hard across the cheek. His eyes grew wide with shock. "I know exactly how you feel. How you so desperately want and need someone to blame for what had happened. Blame me for all I care. Hate me as much as you want, but we cannot stay here. We have to get out of here first, then you can go ahead and even try to kill me, if that's what you want."

In one swift motion, he drew out his wand, swiped at my hand and pointed his wand under my jaw. "And why shouldn't I just off you now, huh?"

I could hear sounds of pursuit in the distance. Hopefully they're still far off. "Because we don't have time for this. For your revenge to work, you need to survive, too. So we should get out of here first."

He lowered his wand slightly, but didn't relax his hold. His knuckles were still white with the force of his grip on the stick. "I already told you, there's no point anymore."

I sighed, "Look, that shot was meant for you, meaning your asswipe Dark Lord is now out to kill you, too, for whatever reason. Your mother protected you. She sacrificed herself to protect you. So you shouldn't go around throwing your life away, even if it was to avenge her death. Do you think she'd want to see her child dead so soon after she just sacrificed herself for you?"

He averted his eyes and finally lowered his wand. He let out a roar of frustration, but I couldn't really blame him. He just lost his mother and he now has to keep the person he blames for her death alive long enough to kill him properly.

"Come on," I said, walking towards the far end of the room, straight for the door on the other side. "We have to keep moving."

"Wait," he said, turning towards the shelf to his right. "This is Father's study."

I looked around and saw that the room's walls were lined with shelves. On them were tomes of books on subjects that I don't recognize. On my left, in front of a window, stood a large, oak desk, with a snake insignia carved on the front. Across the room was a huge, empty fireplace. The bricks around it were black, not from the soot, but from whatever mineral the bricks were made of. It was large enough to fit a grown man inside.

He started making his way towards the fireplace, looking for something on its mantle.

"Hang on, did you just say your father's study? This is your house? Are you the Mold's son?!"

Various items clattered onto the floor as he stopped his search to glare at me. "That snake is not my father! Though my father is not exactly a likeable character himself, he is still far better than that old fart!" Then his eyes grew wide with shock as he realized that he just bad mouthed the Mold.

I burst out laughing at his expression, like that of a child who was just caught red handed. He did not appreciate that, but I didn't care. "I thought so, you're not exactly henchman material. So what in fuck's sake are you doing here?"

He continued glaring at me for a second more, before he turned around and resumed his search, but still answered, "I just said that I wasn't the 'Mold's' son, I never said that this wasn't my house. Father was the 'henchman', as you said it. Mother and I sort of got caught in his fanatics.

"Since father isn't, err, here right now, as new head of house, it is my duty to take over his responsibilities, including playing host to the Dark Lord and all his other henchmen. Ah, here you are!"

He turned around, in his hand, he held a small bag filled with green powder. "Here," he said, offering the bag to me.

"I hope that's not your grandma or something. Come on, let's get a move on."

He cocked his head to the side. "You don't know what this is?"

"Like I said, I hope it's not someone's ashes or something like that. But if you really need it, then come on and bring it along."

"It's floo powder," he answered, now eyeing me suspiciously, "It's used for traveling."

Now it's my turn to look confused. "Excuse me?" Floo… that sounds familiar.

He rolled his eyes and stalked back over to the fireplace. He opened the gate and the flue. With his wand, he started a fire and soon had it roaring. When the fire was large enough, he fished from the bag a fistful of powder and threw it into the fire. When the powder touched the fire, it burst into bright green flames.

He turned back to look at me. "Well, what are you waiting for? A formal invitation? Get in!"

"Into where? The fire? Are you crazy?" From the other side of the door, I could hear muffled voices. They're here, what now? Think!

"Oh, for the love of-" the boy yanked me by the arm into the green flames. I screamed, fully expecting pain. Burns are really my least favorite injury. I'd take a broken rib over burns any day, thank you very much. Though, I must admit, it's quite ironic that I hate burns, but work under the Flame Alchemist in the military.

After about five seconds of screaming and thrashing, the boy somehow managed to wrestle me into the fireplace, the flames licked up to my thigh, but somehow didn't burn. I was curiously stroking the flames between my fingers, wondering why my hand was still unharmed when the door burst open, revealing the crazed woman and the fat, ratty man. She screamed as she charged for the fireplace.

But the boy beside me yelled something and we were soon engulfed in green flames. The weirdest sensation washed over me. It's like I was being pulled upwards, through the chimney. I see many other fireplaces and living rooms flash before me, like some picture show that just changed the slides far too quickly. That's right. Truth mentioned something about the wizards teleporting using the floo or chimney system.

I was just about to hurl when the world finally steadied. Someone pushed me out the fireplace. It took me a moment to get my bearings straight. Looking around, I saw that we are now in an old, rundown shack. A shocking difference, considering that we just came from a mansion that even the Füher would be envious of. Dust covered everything, from the cracked window panes, the worn furnitures, the torn drapes, the creaky floorboards and even to the peeling paint of the walls. Needless to say, the place was dismal.

Start of the gory scene, look for the next note that marks the end of this scene to skip.

I hear the boy groaning softly beside me. I looked and instantly regretted it. His right arm was almost torn off at the sockets. Stringy sinew was all that was keeping his arm from falling off. I must've stood there watching him for what seemed like an eternity. I'm finding it hard to expel thoughts of my own past from my head.

He swayed before his knees buckled underneath him. I caught him just before he hit the ground, but his momentum brought us both down to the ground. I carefully adjusted my hold on him to make him more comfortable.

"Draco, you traitor!" the crazed woman screeched.

Her scream snapped me out of my trance. I turned to find her and the fat man stepping out of the fireplace. Immediately, I transmuted a wall to keep them from leaving the fireplace. I turned to the boy whimpering softly as he held onto his shoulder. "What happened? Can you move?"

"Aunt Bella and Wormtail hitched a ride on our floo. She must've grabbed my arm as we were in mid transport," he winced, "Heh, I heard that getting splinched is hell, but damn, I didn't think I'd have a firsthand experience."

I transmuted another wall to reinforce the first one. "Do you trust me?" I asked him.

"Y-You're no older than me! Y-You c-can't do m-magic out here y-yet!" He was shivering slightly. First signs of severe blood loss, I can't wait any longer.

How hard could it be? I mean, I've patched up a hole in my stomach before, what's an arm? It's anatomically simpler than a stomach, should be easier to fix. I clapped my hands and drew the human transmutation circle in my head. I kept in mind to declare my own life force as the payment.

"W-What, what are you doing?" Draco slurred, clearly dizzy from blood loss. "Stop…"

I touched both my hands on his damaged shoulder. I could feel the Gate draining months of my life as the sinews of his arms weaved together and patched him up roughly.

Ed and Draco Flooed to an old, run-down shack, but Draco is hurt, badly. Realizing that they had pursuers behind them coming out of the same fireplace they came from, Ed transmutes a wall, temporarily trapping the pursuers inside. He asks Draco what happened, and Draco tells him that Bellatrix Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew hitched a ride on their Floo, splinching Draco's arm in the process. With Draco losing life blood fast, Ed decides to close up the wound the same way he did his stomach in the mines. After all, a stomach is far more anatomically complex than an arm, right?

"H... How…?"

Just then, the improvised wall blew apart. The two people on the other side emerged, practically foaming at the mouth, eyes crazed. "Draco!"

"I'll explain later, time to go." I slung Draco's good arm over my shoulder and hobbled as quickly as I could out of there.

We ran out the house. Spells flew past us, narrowly missing us as we ran aimlessly through the marshlands outside. I had hoped we would manage to lose them when we reached a patch of the tall grasses, but coming through there only bought us a few minutes of head start.

Draco was heaving beside me. His head was hanging limply from his shoulders. The arm that I just patched up tore open again in some parts and was bleeding profusely. His breath came in short, shallow gasps. "Are you alright? Can you go any further?"

He weakly shook his head, he clearly won't make it very far without immediate medical attention. I need to think of something, quick.

As my head was spinning, desperately trying to think up a plan, another one of those green light ball's whizzed past my ear.

"Fuck! I found you, you little shites!" It was the ratty fat man. He smiled, flashing his damaged, yellowed teeth.

I could feel fatigue come crashing down on me like a rock slide. I feel myself slipping out of consciousness fast. Their magic could kill a human, but the wall stopped the energy ball earlier. Does that mean that inanimate objects can stop their magic? Desperate for a last resort, I clapped my hands and transmuted a dome of packed earth around us. As soon as I finished the transmutation, the world faded into darkness, and I passed out.

So that was that. I must've written and rewritten this chapter at least ten times just to get something of a reasonable plotline to present itself, and still I have left a lot of the plot holes to chance and temporary character shock (I hope I did the scenes some justice, at the very least). Please do leave me a review on what you think of the plot. Were there plot holes I missed? Was the flow alright or did it confuse you?

Also, I can't believe I tried to explain a version of the string theory, that bit was INSANE! And no, I obviously do not have the proper credentials to even BEGIN to think about doing such a feat (well, neither do I have the credentials to write literature, and yet here we are). Did I do it well or was that bit confusing, too?

On another note, I've decided to finally change the title and summary (yay! Thank you anonymous guest for commenting on that). Hopefully this makes the work seem a bit more legit. Lemme know how you liked it. Until next time, toodles!