Author's Note: Hooly shit friends. This chapter came out veeery slowly. Every little piece of it clawed it's way onto the page through a goddamn blizzard. Seriously. It wouldn't have taken so long otherwise.

On the bright side, it actually cleared 3000 words!

Another thing to celebrate, we're officially at the ten chapter mark! Also 99 reviews! Thank you so so much everybody. I wasn't expecting this sort of response and I am really happy about it. Anyway. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: WolfishMoon doesn't own Hiromu Arikawa's Fullmetal Alchemist or J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter. She never claims the contrary and makes no money off of the online publication from this free-to-read fanwork.

The Scientist's Lament

Chapter Ten

Negotiations

Saturday night was the longest wait of Ed's life. He sat at Mrs. Weasley's scrubbed kitchen table - Matron of the Red Hair on his left, Alphonse on his right for what felt like hours.

"Vat time did he say he vas coming, again?" Ed said, checking his watch. Alphonse's chin was in his hand, elbow propped on the table; his eyes fluttered further open at the sound of Ed's voice and Ed knew his brother was ten seconds away from being dead to the world.

"He didn't, dearie," Mrs. Weasley said. "He just said that he would be late - he had an errand he wanted to run with Harry before dropping him off."

"Vat could possibly be standing in zee vay ov zis man's schedule?" Ed asked. "I underschtand zat zee school year is coming up, but zere cannot possibly zat much to do!"

Ed wasn't sure on that score, actually. Ms. Jenkins - the principal at his own place of work - was sporting a shorter and shorter temper, as of late.

Mrs. Weasley just shrugged. "How about I make us some tea?" she said. "Keep us all awake."

Ed nodded. "Sank you." He caught Alphonse one-armedly when Al slumped to the side, well and truly asleep. A pain bloomed in his arm - it was his still-weakened right, of course. He closed his eyes against the feeling and twisted, using his left arm to shift Alphonse onto the table.

He shook his arm just as Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove. "Are you alright?" she asked, arms crossing below her breasts. "You didn't hurt yourself in one of those fistfights, did you?"

Ed's eyes went wide, "Ah! Nein! I'm vine, just old injury! Acts up vhen veather changes." And that was not precisely a lie. It was more sensitive when the weather changed, and the cold of the night was only just fully setting in.

"I don't know what you were doing, to have old injuries," Mrs. Weasley said, brown eyes narrowed with suspicion, but I don't like it.

Ed laughed - a sharp laugh, but there was a not of genuine amusement in it. "Trust me, Frau Veasley," he said. "I didn't like it eizer."

The corner of her lip might have twitched upwards, but Mrs. Weasley didn't laugh. But they were spared the silence of disapproval by the whistling of the kettle. Ed sobered as Mrs. Weasley turned off the flame with a flick of her wand. With another flick, the hot water began pouring itself over three cups of tea leaves - two with milk, one conspicuously without.

"I vasn't beink flippant," Ed said, English suddenly a mouthful. "I didn't enjoy zee sings I haff had to do. But zere vere reasons zat I had to do zem, and iv I had not? I don't sink my life vould be much better."

"I'm sure there could have been a way around it," Mrs. Weasley said, seating herself across from him, spoon delicately stirring her tea by itself as she clutched the cup with both hands.

There was a sold thunk as Ed's landed in front of him. "I don't sink so," Ed said. "I did zee best viz vat I had. And iv I'd not done it, is possible boz Alphonse und I vould be dead."

There was still an overt attempt at disapproval - a short huff emitting from her mouth - but Weasley's eyes had softened. And just as Ed picked up his tea cup, there were three hard knocks on the door. Ed nearly jumped out of his skin, and he was disconcerted to note that he and Mrs. Weasley were not the only ones to do so. Alphonse jerked awake, elbow hitting against his own tea cup as he jolted.

Ed put both hands on his brother's shoulders, a knot forming in his chest. He did not regret his choices, but what had he done to his brother? "Alphonse!" he said, "It's okay. It's okay."

The confusion in Al's eyes faded, and Ed turned to look at the door. Mrs. Weasley stood before it, chest heaving nervously. "Who's there? Declare yourself!" she said with surprisingly little waver in her voice.

Ed tried to ignore Al's grip tightening on his forearm.

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry." Finally, they had arrived. Mrs. Weasley threw open the deadbolt and flung the door wide.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus! I know you said you'd be in late, but I was expecting rather sooner than two in the morning."

The old man looked suddenly long-suffering. "The Dursley family proved rather more difficult than I was anticipating. Ah! You must be the Elric brothers!"

Beard walked over the threshold, arms extended. Ed felt Al take the slightest of steps behind him. Oh no. But Dumbledore's advance allowed for a major advantage - the small scruffy youth that stood behind him was now visible.

This was Potter?

Politeness be damned, Ed craned his neck to get a better look. But Long Beard placed himself firmly in his line of sight. "Now which one of you is young Alphonse?"

If Ed was worried that Al would not be able to function, he was wrong. Ed felt a small rush of pride as Al straightened and squared his shoulders, bringing his height well above Ed's.

"Zat vould be me, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, and Ed was not sure if the man was surprised at the height difference or if he had already known - his face gave nothing away. He turned to the dark haired youth behind him and gave a brief adieu.

"If you would accompany me outside, Alphonse?" Dumbledore said, a pleasant note in his voice.

"Nein," Ed said, immediately veto-ing the idea. "It is fery late, und vee are bos tired. Inside is surely zee best location for our discussion?"

Dumbledore looked at Ed with a piercing look - Ed matched it. Adults had a way of making themselves sound reasonable and wise and Ed wasn't letting any of them get away with it.

"Only if you don't mind an audience," Dumbledore said. In contrast to the sharpness of his eyes, his voice remained carefully unassuming and mild. Ed automatically distrusted it.

"Vor zee basics of Alphonse's enrollment, I don't see vhy zat vould be an issue," Ed said, crossing his arms.

"I sink vee schould go outside," Al said and Ed nearly jumped out of his skin. "I am sure zat zee headmaster has questions zat may be difficult vor us to answer."

Ed glowered. Who's side was Al on, anyway?

"It seems you are out numbered, Mr. Elric."

"Vine, zen," Ed said, glowering. "Vee can go outside. At two in zee morning. Zat isn't recipe vor disaster at all."

Al pulled a face to match Ed's. "Come on, bruder. Don't be a brat about zis." He turned to Beard. "Schall vee?"

Dumbledore nodded graciously and beamed when Al stepped up and opened the door for him. Ed huffed at Dumbledore's back as the elderly man stepped over the threshold.

"After you, brother," Al said in Amestrian. "Try not to be a jerk."

Ed rolled his eyes and stepped passed him. "He's the jerk," he said, briefly sticking out his tongue.

"What dialect of German do you speak?" Beard said. From the high school's principal to Hogwarts headmaster, too many goddamn school administrators spoke German.

Ed swore. And decided to switch to English. Dumbledore's German sounded worse than Ed's English and he'd be damned if he had to talk to Beard in his mother tongue.

"We're vrom a village in zee middle ov fuckink novhere. Vee talk funny." As far as Ed could tell - and he went looking, during his stay in Berlin - there was nowhere in Germany that spoke any dialect of Amestrian. And once you threw in the fact that Eastern Amestrian had a subtly different accent to Centro-western Amestrian, Ed doubted he'd find anything like it here.

"Bruder!" Al said, poking a reprimanding elbow into Ed's ribs.

"Fair enough," Dumbledore said - he too switching back into English. "Now. As far as I am aware, you've discussed the basics of Alphonse's enrollment with Professor McGonagall?"

"Sort of," Ed said.

"I know I am schtill somevat concerned viz my progress in zee material I am to learn," Al said. "Professor McGonagall gave me schtudy guide to vork viz, und Hermione has been very gracious in lending me her old materials, but I haff no practical experience and I don't vant to be behind at zee fery beginning. Learnink vour years ov material in one summer isn't easy."

"Don't worry too much about that," Dumbledore said. "We'll be housing you with the fifth years, but we'll put you into the classes you test in. Just do your best."

"Right, zat I can do." Al said with a small smile, before furrowing his brow. "I vill need a vand before progressing much furzer, zough."

Beard nodded, clasping his hands in front. "I can arrange for that to happen before the end of the week. Nymphadora will be a fine escort, I trust? You've seemed to have a marvelous effect on her spirits."

And who in hell was Nymphadora? Beard must have seen the quizzical look on Ed's face, for he laughed. "I imagine you know her as Tonks. I apologize."

And suddenly Tonks's statement about not needing to know her first name made a lot more sense. Ed had initially assumed it had something to do with military formality - Mustang was not Roy, Hawkeye was not Riza. But Nymphadora was the most ridiculous name Ed had ever had.

And just like that, Ed was cracking up. "Vat zee hell vere her parents sinking!"

"Bruder!" Al said. "It's not vunny!" But he was laughing too, and even Beard had a smile on his face.

"Wizards seemed to have largely misplaced their sense of the ridiculous, I'm afraid," Beard said. "It can be a bit of a shock, for muggle-born students, to realize that we do what we do with no trace of irony."

"Vondervul," Ed said, smirking. "Vee have fallen into zee least self avare group ov people I've seen since Liore."

Beard frowned, nodded. "I'm afraid so, even if I'm not sure of your point of reference."

"Vorget I said zat, ja?"Ed said with a dismissive wave and kicking himself internally. "And I suppose now to our ozer business."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, razor sharp eyes still glimmering in the dark of the night. "Minerva told me of your desire to accompany Alphonse. And of your particular talent."

"Iz zat vat ve're calling it?" Ed said, cupping his left hand over the dip below his bony right shoulder against the cold. "My particular talent?"

"Minerva said that your description was unmistakably of alchemy, but please excuse me being skeptical," Beard said. "Would you mind giving me a demonstration? I would need to see, before making any decisions."

"Demonstration?" Ed said , he had expected this, of course. "Vine by me. Vat sort ov transmutation vould you like to see?"

"By all means, surprise me," Dumbledore said, gesturing outward with his hands.

Now Ed knew how he would handle that - he could see it in his mind, a great shot of stone springing from the ground and throwing Beard into the air. He smirked and picked a stick up off the ground to draw the necessary array into the earth.

But Alphonse spared the headmaster. "Don't do anything crazy, brother," Al said in Amestrian. "I actually want to go this school."

And if that wasn't a burst to his bubble, Ed didn't know what was. "Fine," he said. After a moment, the array he would actually use cleared in his mind. The math came so so smoothly as he etched the symbols into the loose summer soil. He couldn't help but smile as he did so - it was so rare in this world that he had the opportunity to use the science he'd devoted his life to, the science he was so glad to still be able to use.

He was drawing in he last sigil when he realized that Beard was hovering over his work to actually read the runes. "Are you an Alchemist?" Ed asked as he threw the stick to the side.

Beard smiled faintly - Ed immediately sensed that there was a story behind that smile. "I know a little," Dumbledore finally said. "Enough to know that you're going to be doing a fairly standard reshaping and condensing of soil."

Ed nodded. "It's a fery gut transmutation to haff in your arsenal - fersatile, and easy to scale to large proportions. Zee runes are simple, und quick to draw."

"It vas one ov our teacher's vaforites," Al said. "Sche vas best at zis sort of repurposing."

Ed bent, placed his palms firmly over the circle's edge. Under both hands he could feel the relative coolness of the ground. And there was that glimmer of the tectonic plates.

The scruffy Weasley yard lit up in blue, and a to scale miniature of the Burrow rose to Ed's eye level. Minimal transmutation marks, exacting detail. But there was something off... the doors! He'd forgotten the knobs.

"Und zis is not quite up to my usual standard," Ed said, nose wrinkling. "Teachink chemistry has made me vlabby."

If Beard was at all surprised at the prowess, he did not show it. "Do you have a decent grasp of multiple fields of reactions? Or is soil and stone your main forte?"

Ed grinned. "Zere is not bit ov alchemy zat I cannot do," he said. And wasn't that the case? In the end, even Truth had given back most of what it had taken.

"Well, Mr. Elric. It seems Hogwart's has a teaching position open to you."

And finally there was the offer; an inarguable ticket to accompanying Al. Ed's grin widened. "Im am zee best person vor zee job, trust me."

Beard laughed. "I certainly hope so. You're the only person for the job. Hogwarts hasn't been able to offer Alchemy as an elective in decades."

Now that was not what Ed was expecting. For the week since Stern recognized Alchemy for what it was Ed thought that he might, even here, find colleagues. But no such luck, apparently. Ed shook of the surprise and said, with as much attitude as he could muster, "Vell. Efen iv zere vas millions of alchemists, I vould schtill be zee best man vor zee job."

"He vould be, too," Al said from behind him.

"Then I trust that it will be so," Dumbledore said. "But I must ask. How old are you, dear boy?"

Ed winced. "Is it any ov your business?"

"I am afraid so," Beard said. "Even if only to get your lies straight, and be able to repeat them when the Ministry asks. And they will ask. I don't believe they're quite done trying to discredit me."

Ed sighed, shaking his head. "Vine. I am sixteen."

"But zat doesn't mean he is not qualified," Alphonse said, suddenly striding towards Beard with a sort of desperate purpose in his eyes. Ed found himself smiling all over again, eyes softening at Alphonse's display. "Efen disregardink my feelings as his brozer, I can objectively say zat he is one ov zee best alchemists ov zee age."

Dumbledore put up a quelling hand. "Sixteen was Minerva's estimate, and that is frankly what I was prepared for. I just needed to know."

"So you are okay viz zee fact zat I am younger zan some ov your students?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It's not so much that I'm okay with it, but I've not seen an alchemist of your caliber since my friend Nicholas Flamel passed away. I also understand that young Alphonse's enrollment hinges on you accompanying him to Hogwarts. I am not prepared to let a young wizard slip through the cracks twice."

And if Ed was not mistaken, there was a fleeting flash of pain on Dumbledore's face. Ed filed that tidbit of information away. "Thank you," Ed said, damnable 'th' and all, quickly jerking his eyes from Beard.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, producing a packet of papers from his odd clothing. "I'll need you to fill out this paperwork. There will be blanks you can't, as a muggle, actually fill. But do what you can and owl it back to me."

"I can do zat," Ed said, squinted to see the small lettering in the darkness. In Amestrian, Ed amended his statement. "Well. I can do it inside, anyway."

After a moment of scrutinizing the forms, Ed became aware that he was the subject of scrutiny. Beard's twinkling blue eyes were watching him with a sort of seriousness that was new.

"Minerva has, of course, apprised you about the situation with Voldemort?"

"She has," Ed said.

"Whenever you come into our world, then, it's best you keep your wits about you," Dumbledore said. "Both of you, that is."

Ed snorted. "Our vits haff been permanently about us since vee vere fery small."

Beside him, Alphonse nodded with a small smile. "It may not be easy," he said. "But vee vill survive. Vee're already taking measures to be sure ov it."

Ed nodded, chuckled. "Many people haff vound us hard to kill. Zese terrorists ov yours vill be no different."

Beard frowned. "Minerva said you'd said that to her. And so I will leave you with a reminder not to be too cocky."

"Vee von't be, Provessor," Alphonse said. "Ve're vorking ourselves back to zee vitness zat vee need to be." He let out a self depreciating chuckle. "As you can see, it has been a bit ov vork."

Ed sent Al a side eye. Didn't his brother know that he was achieving the nigh impossible, coming back from that sort of malnutrition?

Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows disappeared behind his mane of hair. "I'm glad to hear that you're taking the threat seriously."

"Vee von't ever make zee mistake ov not taking it seriously," Ed said. "But sank you vor zee varning, yeah?"

"You're quite welcome," Beard said, before yawning widely. "I believe that is a sign that we're all better off in our beds."

Ed gave Beard a sharp salute, "I look forvard to vorking viz you."

"Likewise," Beard said before turning to Alphonse. "And I look forward to counting you amongst my students, young man."

"I look forvard to learning vrom you," Al said, smiling and sticking a scrawny hand out for the Headmaster to shake.

Beard took it, shook it, brow creasing in what Ed decided might be worry. When Dumbledore turned back to him, Ed stuck out his own hand.

When the pleasantries were said and done, Beard disappeared with a loud crack. Ed damn near jumped out of his skin. "Since when can they teleport?" Ed said in Amestrian.

"It's called apparition, apparently," Al said. "Came across it in some of the books. It was mentioned very casually, so I had to ask Hermione. Turns out it's so commonplace that nobody would think to put a description of it in a book."

Ed shuddered and turned back to the Burrow. "Weirdos."

"Yeah," Al said. "No question. Let's go inside, brother."

Ed nodded. "Sure," he said. And after undoing his previous transmutation, they did.

Word count: 3340

SO. What did you think? I know everyone was looking forward to the meeting with Dumbledore, and I hope it met expectations.

Thank you for reading! Your reviews would be appreciated.