SHADOWS' SHADOWS IS BACK!

For the rest of Harry's Second year, anyways. After that, well, we'll see. But for now, my plot has advanced far enough to keep going for at least four more chapters. I didn't want to keep you guys waiting too long.

Enough boring stuff.

ON WITH THE STORY!

DARK WIZARD IN HOG'S HEAD!

Battle destroys bar, culprit escapes.

Last night, I, Rita Skeeter, special correspondent, received intelligence from one of my undercover sources that there was a Dark Wizard roaming the streets of Hogsmeade…

…Hog's Head pub completely decimated…

…Casualties still unknown…

… Whether he has to do with the mysterious disappearance of Quirinus Quirrell, the DADA teacher this past year is still up in the air…

But the question I'd like to pose to all of my dear readers is this: Where were the much-vaunted Aurors during this battle? Can we really trust our Ministry to save us when we are in danger?

Albus Dumbledore set down his paper and sighed. This was it. The news had been broken. It was a small blessing that the true identity of the mysterious dark wizard hadn't been revealed. The public would be in uproar, panic and fear would set in. It would be the 1970's all over again. No, the truth was the last thing they needed to hear.

He pushed the Prophet to one side and pulled out the large stack of parchment-work he still had to complete. Honestly, half of these things didn't even seem like they were necessary functions of the school. Since when was there a fee for the number of Muggleborns in attendance? Or a House Elf Control Fund? He suspected that more than a few of these fed back into the Governor's pockets. Of course, with the clout they possessed in the Wizengamot, he'd be lucky to get a bill on the floor to change things. Such was the state of his political power. He was regarded as a hero, but had no influence as one.

Fawkes appeared in a flash on his usual perch. The aging phoenix stuck out a clawed leg, with a letter attached. Dumbledore looked up, his interest diverted. There were very few people who the proud bird would let use it as a messenger, and all of those people promised something more interesting than the school's financial state. As he unfolded the letter, his eyes widened in surprise and realization. In the fuss over the demon, he'd completely forgotten about Nicolas!

Dear Albus,

As I am sure you have noticed, there seems to be dangers around your school that I had not anticipated when entrusting you with my Stone. A teacher missing, presumably dead, and a Dark Wizard lurking around the countryside! I have spent this past year perfecting my own safe place to keep such an artifact, where it will not endanger the lives of your students. Meet me at the usual spot with it, and I can take one more worry off your mind.

Sincerest Regards,

Nicolas

Wonderful. Now, not only did he have to finish his paperwork, he had to explain to his old friend how he'd accidentally stored it in the same spot as a certain demon. Who had now escaped and taken the Stone with it.

Unless…

It was cruel. It was wrong. It was a betrayal of trust and a blatant lie. But it would buy him time, time to find the Stone and make things right. He forced himself to ignore that painfully guilting voice in his head and set pen to paper.

My dearest friend.

I would like to express my deepest regrets. Despite the constant vigilance of my staff and myself, and the extreme measures we took to protect it, the Stone was destroyed in Quirrell's bid to steal it. I am very, very sorry for my failure, and hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for my mistakes.

Also, there was evidence left to show Quirrell did not act all on his own. Or even entirely of his own accord. Be on the lookout, my friend. Dark times are drawing closer.

My deepest condolences,

Albus

Fawkes eyed him testily, chirping a few harsh notes. Dumbledore frowned.

"Yes, I know. But telling him we actually let it get stolen would be even worse! What would I tell him? That I forgot I had a demon in with the Stone? What would he do then? Worse still, what would his wife do to me? She'd kill me! Then transfigure me into some kind of rug to keep on her floor for the next half century or so! This way, I can work on getting it back to them."

He looked around, realizing the blasted bird had flown off mid-justification. He turned his gaze away from the empty perch and back to the paperwork.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

Many miles away, in a dimmed potions lab, an ancient alchemist got his answer. Flamel turned to the messenger.

"He's not telling the whole truth, is he?"

Fawkes hummed a few low notes.

"I thought so. Is there any chance he knows where my Stone is?"

Fawkes shook his head. Nicolas sighed. Tossing Fawkes a bunch of grapes, he gave his thanks.

"I know that you'll follow that old coot to the end, but thank you for the warning. Keep an ear out for anything helpful, will you?"

With a trill and a flash of fire, the phoenix was gone. Flamel turned back to his latest project.

"Perenelle, dear, would you please get me the pictures on your way back from the Ministry today? Croaker wanted me to look at some kind of special Transfigurations."

If Edward Elric had known that he had made the headlines in another world as a result of his penchant for mass destruction, he would have laughed, because some things never change. Then again, it was probably better he didn't laugh in this situation.

"Put any weapons down on the ground and come with me. I'm going to get a little bounty."

Yeah, it was probably wrong to laugh here. Day two and he already had people who wanted to hunt him down. It had taken weeks back home. But back to the situation at hand.

He happily obliged the bounty hunter, clapping his hands together, and slamming them on the ground. Which rose up in a wave and then collapsed forwards, burying the poor fool. By the man's screams, he'd probably broken something. He walked up to the now-trapped wizard and kicked his wand away before he got any ideas. Kneeling down, golden eyes burned into terrified brown.

"I am asking you a few questions. You will answer. Understand?"

His captive, in a display of what was either incredible bravery or suicidal stupidity, spat at him.

"Make me."

Standing up slowly, Edward frowned down at him.

"Ooh, can I try? You haven't let me out in ages."

The wizard watched as his captor slowly grinned down at him, the smile getting wider and wider until he deeply regretted his previous actions. The strange man closed his eyes, and then opened them.

"Now." That one was spoken with enough homicidal glee to make even the most hardened man shiver. Why were his eyes purple? Why were the shadows moving? Why was he this terrified of some runaway convict? Why why whywhywhywhy-

"Where were we? Oh, right. You were going to tell me everything you know."

He began to talk.

Pride strolled through the streets of northern London, examining his shiny new wand. If he needed to pass as a wizard, it would come in handy. Of course, they all thought Alchemy was some sort of 'magic' anyway, so the point was moot. They classified everything as magic. Even his shadows were dark magic. The irony did not escape him.

Apparently he was now a wanted felon, for 'repeated breach of the 'Secrecy', whatever that was, 'assault on Ministry officials', and 'breach of criminal security'. He didn't exactly understand every fancy word they used, but from what he did get, he was basically in trouble for doing magic in public, resisting arrest, and breaking out of jail. Why they couldn't just say that was beyond him.

He had left the gibbering wreck of his latest attacker in the alley where he had forced a confrontation. Of course, he had divested the man of his wallet, wand, and shoes. The wand and wallet he wanted for obvious reasons, but he stole the shoes for his own amusement. A man in robes running barefoot through the streets was sure to attract the non-magical officials.

It was an hour later when he finally found a hotel. It was a run-down establishment, with peeling wallpaper and a few chairs that looked like they had seen better days. He walked up to the front desk just as another customer was signing in. A quick bump against the retreating patron was enough to lift his wallet. Oh, the skills one learns when forced to look after oneself in Amestrian cities. The last few months of his employment with the military weren't exactly paid, seeing as the Fuhrer wanted him captured. He wasn't the best, but then again, he didn't have to practice often.

He turned towards the clerk, who either didn't see the move or didn't care.

"How much for a room for the next month?"

The man looked at him, raising an eyebrow at his accent.

"Three hundred pounds."

Edward took out the wallet, which the clerk really should have recognized, having seen the same one not five minutes earlier. Ed pulled out three of the bills with a 100 printed on them, and put them on the counter.

The clerk took the money and pushed a key across the counter.

"The room's yours. Don't make too much noise or we'll kick you out. Don't wreck the room or we'll kick you out. Any criminal stuff is on you."

As Ed climbed the stairs, the man added his last words in a voice that assured it was an obligatory pleasantry.

"Have a nice stay."

The room was dirty, and pretty much in the same condition as the rest of the building. A few transmutations took care of that. With a now much cleaner room and bed, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and began to think.

He was in a foreign country with no contacts, no leads, and the law enforcement of a secret society after him. That last one wouldn't be much of a problem, because as far as he could tell, they only caught up to him when he broke 'secrecy'. As long as he took care to keep his transmutations out of sight, he was fine. But his lack of any sort of knowledge about the world in general beyond what he'd managed to get from an afternoon in a Wizarding book store was concerning.

Goals. Beyond a vague 'restore the balance', he had really nothing to go on. The wizards defying everything about Equivilancy could count, but somehow he doubted that was a solvable problem.

Sinister worldwide plots to commit massive genocide? Maybe. But from what he'd seen on a map, there wasn't a single country that vaguely represented the needed circle. Also, given this world's abysmal understanding of Alchemy, he doubted that was the case.

He briefly entertained the idea of transmuting himself to go ask the Truth personally, but scrapped the idea when he realized he had nothing to trade besides more limbs. He really didn't need more automail. As it was, he'd had to do a touch-and-go job with his damaged foot. The vast amount of things he didn't know about his own limbs had to be substituted for the Stone's power. It had used a lot more than he'd liked.

Thinking about his automail brought his mind in a direction it hadn't touched for a very long time. What were his friends and family doing at home? Were Teacher or Al trying to find him? Were they even still alive? From what he understood of dimensional theory, which wasn't much, time moved differently different places. Which either meant that it could have been five seconds back home or five centuries.

Was Winry still waiting for him?

In hindsight, it was a stupid move to propose right as he went off to what was bound to be a deadly fight. It had been more of a spur of the moment thing. But now he was adrift in the multiverse and Winry was stuck waiting. Again.

"Stop. You're getting sentimental, and it really isn't that great for those of us who have to sit and watch you do nothing but mope for your girlfriend."

Edward scowled.

"Well, it's not like you care either way. Truth, they could all be dead and I'll be coming home to Al's great-grandkids for all I know. But all you care about is whether you get your goddamn kicks on your way to hell."

His voice steadily rose, until he was standing and shouting the last few words. A thump on the floor and a shout to pipe it down quickly reminded him where he was.

"Meh. I do care. Kinda. I mean, what's Truth going to do with little ol' me when this is over? I just wanted to point out that what's happening a universe away doesn't matter. So quit moping and let's get back out there to do some searching for wizards."

Ed sighed.

Half an hour later found him wandering the streets of northern London, wondering how to find wizards. Beyond the obvious method of attracting law enforcement.

He stopped. Of course! Bait a few out, beat information out of them, and be on his merry way!

He stopped in the middle of the street, clapped, and transmuted a chair. Big gothic style throne, high winged back, plenty of engravings and filigree, flashy lightshow.

And a-one, and a-two, and a-

The air filled with pops as Aurors surrounded him. One of them obviously recognized him, as no attempts were made to get him to arrest.

A spell splashed against the rock just above his head. Edward grinned, and very slowly, very deliberately, blinked.

Pride opened his eyes to a wonderful scene. Fifteen weaklings all set up for him to destroy. Plenty of shadows from the deepening dusk, and a generously transmuted chair to guard his back. Beautiful.

The first and only sign that the leader of the squad got that something was amiss was the insanely wide grin that stretched across the convict's face. Men trapped and surrounded didn't smile like that. Half the team was grabbed from behind before they knew what hit them. And then the shadows opened their gleeful eyes, and smiled malicious, hungry smiles.

Had there been no Muggle-repelling wards over the scene, somebody might have come to investigate the screams. But the Aurors were efficient at protecting the Secrecy, and the wards had been double and triple-layered.

Fifteen broken wands, twelve dislocated joints, seven broken bones, and three sets of soiled combat robes later, Pride the Homunculus exited a side alley with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. The magic on the Auror team's robes had been every bit as edible as the magic on the Ministry cells.

And now the immortal, implacable, and unstoppable being had a name, and a lead.

The Leaky Cauldron.

And so the storm descends.

Sorry this chapter is so short, but I really had to force myself to write this chapter, and it felt like such a great place to leave off. I know it's mainly filler stuff, but I dropped a few plot points in there somewhere. Ish.

Don't get all excited though. I wrote because the muse struck, but my plot is still very much in the works. As it is I have the general layout of Harry's second year planned so far. Hogwarts does come back into play. That's all I'm going to say. But no, before I get a thousand people thinking I'm abandoning creativity, Ed is not going to ever be a teacher. Or a student. At this point, I can't imagine how that could work out with half of the Order literally on the staff. Not to mention it's been done about a hundred times.

Enough of my ranting. Go back to your reviewing and reading and writing and whatever else it is you people do with your time. See you all in a month or so!

-Ambiguity