After hours upon hours of exhausting examination, I have come to a conclusion.
Junior year of high school sucks.
This is my excuse for all slow updates until sometime in June.
ON WITH THE STORY!
Three weeks later…
Edward was at a standstill. A dead end. Nowhere left to go.
He'd read through almost every book of use in Flourish and Blotts' and had realized he would receive no more information about 'You Know Who.' It was kind of stupid really, the way the books were all written. Every single one of them was filled with speculation and very little fact. The only known details about that Halloween came from one Albus Dumbledore. And there was no way in hell he was going to that old man for anything. Pride would freak out, and they'd end up fighting, and then either he'd kill his only source of info or end up imprisoned again. Neither outcome was productive to his cause.
He'd also gone through a few of the shadier sides of the Wizarding Community and found books not exactly… legal, per se. The things described in there were certainly evil, but they didn't spit in the Truth's face the way that bringing back the dead did. They all required a cost, and were, from what he'd found, extremely painful and/or dangerous. That seemed equivalent enough.
But now that he'd finally exhausted his supply of free, relatively legal information, Ed had reached one conclusion. He'd have to go hunt down the only others who might know where Voldie was hiding out. This might have excited Pride, but the concept of tracking down (supposedly) powerful Dark Wizards and beating highly sensitive information out of their bleeding carcasses wasn't as endearing to him. The main problem was that those who weren't locked away for their crimes had turned around after the war and deeply entrenched themselves in with the current administration. Which meant that launching a one-man raid on their mansions might be looked down upon by the Law Enforcement. His other option consisted of swimming across miles of freezing ocean to an island perpetually covered in storms. And if that didn't sound like the place Automail went to die, there were always the beings that guarded the island, who sounded suspiciously like Homunculi, minus basic reasoning and silly little things like the ability to die.
Assault on a mansion it was.
This is what led to his current situation, balanced precariously on the outer walls of an enormous property in Wiltshire or some such place. A few books on Wardbreaking, a night of practice with the wand he could kind of halfway use, and he was ready to charge in to his doom.
The main plan was to break in during the night, attract as little attention as possible, grab this Lucius Malfoy and use the nifty little Portkey he'd bought from a vendor in Knocturn Alley. Completely illegal of course, but then again none of this plan was really within the bounds of the law.
From what he'd read, most domestic wards couldn't actually keep out a determined enough attacker, but would instead react with pesky things like immolation or electrocution. This meant a Wardbreaker could either pull apart wards to let himself through without setting anything off, or bulldoze straight through and cast as many counters as he could, and let whatever protection he was wearing stave off the rest. The second option was the trick of novices, who couldn't manage the subtlety of a master. Infinitely easier, but much harder to pull off with all limbs remaining.
It was a good thing he came with replaceable parts.
His coat was transmuted in favor of a more protection-suited leather armor set, complete with ultradense carbon-based plating on the shoulders, back and ribs. His pants received similar treatment. The carbon was nearly as good as Greed's shield, and had the added bonus of deterring electricity and fire based attacks. He'd given himself a mask, also transmuted out of carbon. It was plain, with only two slits where he'd need to see.
He pulled up his hood, donned his mask, and prepared to leap from his perch.
As he jumped into the edges of the Malfoy wards, Edward gave way to Pride, whose multipresence would ease the capture of their target. He dashed across the manicured lawn as fast as his legs would allow, swearing profusely the whole way while an alarm blared and the magic in the air sprang to life.
Lucius Malfoy woke up to a sound he'd never heard before. It was an extremely loud whooping, starting low and ending on a high note before repeating the whole thing over again. What on earth was making that racket?
"Dobby!" he called.
The elf appeared at once, cringing and shuffling his feet. Despicable creature.
"What in the name of Merlin is going on?" he demanded. The hapless elf looked up at Lucius sorrowfully, knowing what was to come.
"The alarm wards be going off, Master. The house is under attack."
Pride dodged another fireball, tucked and rolled as boulders rose from the ground to crush him and then sidestepped a screaming, flying… thing… that had come hurtling out of one of the upper story windows. Just before it hit the ground, he heard a snap and a pop and the creature vanished. That was a new one. He was only a hundred meters from the nearest entrance- a window- and had so far only lost a hand once. His luck failed at that moment, however, as a few white birds came flapping over the hedges to his right.
Why the hell were there peacocks?
The birds shifted and changed halfway to the ground, talons lengthening and bodies doubling in size. Pride ducked as a stream of acid arced over his head, sizzling as it hit the ground. Not good. He turned back to run for the house, just in time to catch a fireball full in his face. The hapless Homunculus was blasted backwards, armor shredded and smoking. The birds, sensing an opening, dove in for the kill.
Shadows spiked up from the ground, impaling both beasts and pushing Pride to his feet. No time to hold back anymore. He dashed for the window, shadows pushing his feet and shoulders, carrying him as much as he ran. He was impaled by one last beam of concentrated energy from the mouth of a grotesque above the window's frame before he smashed the fine glass, his smoking, sparking frame landing gracelessly on the drawing room floor. Mercifully, he'd been hit in the left shoulder, and not in the automail port. That would've hurt like a bitch and been impossible to repair.
As the damaged Homunculus got to his feet, he took stock of his surroundings. Besides the wrecked furniture and the fireplace at the far wall, the room seemed to be empty.
'Time to start phase two.'
He stepped over to a nice dark corner, and let his shadows free. Purple eyes raced along the corners of the room, out the hallway, and Pride was loose in Malfoy Manor.
The young Malfoy heir was not having a good night. First he'd been rudely awakened by an obnoxiously blaring noise in the middle of the night. When he'd gotten out of bed and made his way to his father's wing, he'd seen Dobby go flying out the window. Young Draco quickly made a judgment call and backed slowly away before his father could notice him in this mood.
No such luck. Just as he'd reached the door at the end of the hall leading back to his wing of the house, his father had come storming out of the master bedroom in a rage. Upon noticing his son, Malfoy the elder had ordered him to assist in searching for an intruder.
And so now here he was, wandering in the dark, mostly deserted halls of his home, unable to defend himself. It wasn't that the Underage Restriction was a problem. That was an issue for Mudbloods and plebeians. He'd left his wand in his room, and wasn't anywhere near brave enough to ask his enraged father if he could go retrieve it.
Nor was he smart enough to ask a House Elf to fetch it.
Suddenly, the boy caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, all he saw was something purple racing into the room he'd just left. He tiptoed after it, sticking close to the wall. Peering around the corner, Draco came face to face with a floating purple eye.
His screams were quickly stifled.
It was interesting, viewing the world from Pride's point of view. His many eyes changed how he saw the world, like he was viewing a model of his surroundings rather than from any single perspective. Ed didn't have any doubts about how much control it must take to keep this many eyes going at once, but they were quickly building a map of the entire mansion.
Who needed to live in a mansion this large was beyond him. It was like a goddamn castle, dungeons included.
"Wait, we've got a witness."
Ed spoke up in the silence in the back of Pride's head. It was a little disconcerting, not really existing physically but still able to see what was going on. Like watching a movie that he couldn't stop. He saw now as Pride's shadows ambushed the kid, dragging him unconscious to where they were.
'Got him. Hostage, do you think?'
Ed mentally grinned at Pride's forethought. A hostage would be good for cooperation in case their target didn't feel like talking. Speaking of which…
"Pride, where is he? We've got most of the building but the only person we've found was the kid."
'Yeah, yeah. He's probably hiding out in one of the upper floors like a bitch. Ooh. Found him.'
Minutes later, Lucius Malfoy was dragged kicking and swearing into his drawing room to face the one who had broken into his home. The stranger stepped forwards and pressed a stone to his chest.
"Portus," he said.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Nothing. The intruder muttered something incomprehensible and extremely angry before hurling him across the room like a ragdoll. He painfully impacted a broken armchair before tumbling to the floor in an undignified heap.
"I am going to make this quick. I'm looking for somebody, and you know where he is. Then I will leave and we can both get on with our lives. Do we understand each other?"
Lucius Malfoy was many things. He was a liar, a cheater, a criminal, and, at times, a decently competent wizard. He was, however, above all things a Slytherin. So he did what came most naturally to him.
Stall. Deny. Evade.
"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding," he began smoothly as he got to his feet, scanning the surroundings. Luckily, he still had his spare wand up his sleeve. Turning his body so his right side was angled away from his interrogator, he began to work it out of the hidden pocket.
"Oh, no, I am positive I have the right man. Death Eater, former Inner Circle servant to Voldemort."
The words were spoken without the usual malice that accompanied such accusations. However, that didn't mean he was just going to do a silly thing like admit.
"Cleared of all charges," he parried with practiced ease. "Now, what would you be breaking into my home for? You don't seem to be after my valuables." A quick glance around confirmed this. Nothing-save the window and smashed furniture- was out of place.
"I told you already. Information."
"Of what variety? I know many things. You could spend days asking me everything I know. And you don't have much time you know." He let a hint of threat creep into his voice. "The Aurors are on their way."
A flippant hand wave.
"Weaklings. Now," It seemed his stalling was at an end. "Where can I find Voldemort?"
That question floored him. His face momentarily registered shock before he regained control of his features.
"Why would you want to know a thing like that? The Dark Lord met an unfortunate demise at the hands of the hero of the Wizarding world. Didn't you know?"
He let the sarcasm slip into all the right words. Distract, evade, deny.
"Don't give me that. We both know that he isn't really dead. So, one more time," Something was pulled from the shadows behind the masked intruder. "Tell me, or your son starts losing fingers."
That damnable boy! He just had to fail at the worst possible time! Sometimes, Lucius wondered if it was too late to try to have another heir. Accidents could happen…
"I assure you, I have no idea. However," he hastily continued, as the things holding Draco up began to constrict, "You might try Little Hangleton. It's a town that was the base of his operations for many years."
Patently false, of course. That was one of the first places they'd checked. But his guest didn't need to know that. He smiled as the wards alerted him to an Apparition request. A mental acknowledgement let them through. Lucius smiled triumphantly.
"And now, it seems, our conversation is at an end."
There was a series of cracks outside as the Auror squad apparated outside the front gates. They quickly rushed in the mansion and burst into the drawing room, wands drawn.
"Freeze! You're under arrest for breaking and entering into the home of a Pureblooded Lord!"
The man turned lazily to the newest distraction. Draco was tossed unceremoniously to the floor a few feet away and the shadowy arms that had been holding him returned to their owner. Lucius saw this as the chance he'd been waiting for. While the Aurors and the burglar stared each other down, he subtly turned his wand arm to point at his target. A few flicks, a muttered incantation, and conjured chains flew outwards, wrapping around their target. The Aurors saw this as their cue to bombard the restrained and startled man with every restricting and binding curse, charm, and conjuration in the Auror rulebook.
As the first lights of dawn were reaching over the hedges, a limp and heavily bound figure was being levitated out of Malfoy Manor. The head of the Auror Squad, one John Dawlish, was conversing with the elder Malfoy.
"Very sorry to be so late, sir. It was hard to get them all up and ready, and by the time they were fit to Apparate without splinching we feared we were already too late."
"Oh, it's quite alright. I'll make sure to speak with Conelius about suitable rewarding you and your squad for such commendable service. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to call somebody to fix the damage, and get the lawn redone."
"Thank you sir. Good bye sir."
Deep within the bowels of the Earth, a report was received. Plans were altered, an emergency meeting was held, and events were set in motion.
Edward Elric was, for the second time this summer, hurled into a cell. Just like last time, none of the magic restricting him had been removed. Unlike last time, not all of it wore off in a matter of minutes.
His undignified struggles against the heaps of cord, chains, and ropes that had him practically mummified were done in silence, with only the occasional oath in Amestrian being uttered after a particularly spirited attempt. These invectives became increasingly creative as he got more and more frustrated with his binds, and he finally gave up after a particularly inspired piece involving Black Hayate, an office lamp, and one of the Fuhrer's swords.
"What about transmuting your way out?"
'Tried that already. They register the same as the cell. I think it has to do with the 'conjuration' shit they used.'
"Then let me out."
Edward sighed. He was tempted to ask why Pride didn't suggest this sooner, but really he already knew the answer. Because it was entertaining.
"Bet your ass it was."
Ed bit back a retort and got down to business.
He took a breath, blinked, and shifted.
Pride opened his eyes, took about five seconds to look around with his now physical eyes, and then summoned shadows to slice through the ropes. The now nearly-free Homunculus had just enough time to stand up, shake out his legs, and turn to the cell ward before he was stunned and bound again by the much more competent guard posted specifically to him.
Edward found himself once again in control of his body, and once again lying immobile on the cold cell floor.
"Well damn."
"They've caught him. Again."
"Of course. It was only a matter of time. He doesn't seem to be the most… inconspicuous type."
"I'll say. You've probably already heard from whoever's watching Malfoy, but he tried to break into the manor."
"As I said. Not subtle."
"Should we extract him?"
"No, not yet. An escape now would just start the manhunt up again."
"So what are my orders?"
"Lay low. Try to get a few hairs, maybe some blood if the other guards take to other… questionable entertainment. Contact back when they begin to move him."
"Yes sir."
"Good."
Two weeks later…
Edward found himself walking down a long hallway. This wasn't particularly unusual, but the fact that he was covered in chains and had armed guards watching his every twitch was something he couldn't claim to have experience with.
When he had been initially released from his cell to go to his trial, he'd come out fighting like a madman. This got him seven steps into the hallway before being impacted with chains and stunners. The process had repeated itself upon his revival, only this time he decided to play it cool and look for an opening. Unfortunately, no openings seemed to be presenting themselves. They turned off into a room near the end of the hall, and into a large room. There were several rows of benches against one wall, filled with well-dressed men and women.
As he was led into the middle of the room, a hush fell over the crowd. One of the men, a fat, weak looking specimen, stepped forwards and cleared his throat.
"Order. The trial of Wizengamot v. an unnamed offender shall now begin. Rufus Scrimgeour presiding." Ed hated the idiot's voice already.
"You, sir, are charged with repeated abuse of the International Statute of Secrecy, assault on various ministry officials, resisting arrest, various counts of personal and property damage, and attempted burglary on the home of a high-standing Pureblooded member of society. What say you in your defense?"
It took a couple seconds to bring himself back to the present. He'd lost focus somewhere around 'assault' and had begun checking blind spots and escape routes. It was no good, he was surrounded and they'd put him down before he could stand, but it was an enjoyable extended fantasy.
Ed tilted his head to one side as he regarded the lardball in front of him.
"I haven't ever used magic, I didn't hurt the idiots enough, and I think this whole thing is a waste of time."
Mutters broke out, as the seated witches and wizards expressed their varying levels of contempt for the criminal in front of them.
"You don't deny your charges?"
Ed gave his best shit-eating grin.
"Nope." He popped the 'p'. If he couldn't escape, he'd go for pissing everybody off. They were going to find him guilty anyway, so really he couldn't dig this hole any deeper.
A brief debate was held over how long to lock him away for, and a decision was reached.
"Due to the nature of your crimes and the blatant disregard for our laws and statutes you have displayed, your sentence shall be extended. You will serve a term of eight years in Azkaban. One for each of three breaches of Secrecy, two for the assaults, and three for your burglary."
Ed maintained his grin.
"Is that it?"
The last thing he saw before they dragged him out of the room was the impotently glaring face of the prosecutor.
"They move him in four hours."
"Good. That gives us time to prepare the retrieval team and set everything into place. I assume you're on escort?"
"Yes."
"Alright then. The team in charge of this one will be in contact shortly. You know the drill."
"Of course, sir."
The first impression Ed got upon waking was cold. Cold and wet. As he woke out of the magic-coma his other senses came to life. Sea-spray in the air. Rocking floor. He was on a boat.
He cracked open an eyelid, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. There was a cloaked figure in front of him, and another at the… helm, he thought. Boat words were confusing. Pretending to roll over with the rocking of the boat he saw another guard behind him. His hands were still tied, but nobody was paying any particular attention to him.
"Bloody cold out today."
There was a bark of laughter from the one steering at the front-guard's comment.
"Mate, it's bloody cold out every day at Azkaban. That's the point. Dementors keeping it cozy for the prisoners."
An awkward sort of silence followed in which the first guard to have spoken shifted his feet in embarrassment.
"How much longer?" Front-guard asked, attempting to break the silence again.
"A couple minutes. It's hard to see the island because of all the rain and clouds, but it's there. Just a bit ahead."
Ed began his mental count. As soon as they got to the island, the guards would be occupied with getting him off the boat. Since he was supposed to be magically asleep right now, they probably would carry him. That meant their hands would be empty when he struck. A silent, clapless transmutation caused part of the boat to spike up into a tiny blade. He worked his bonds back and forth across it, fraying them almost completely apart.
With a bump, the boat reached land. As the helmsman focused on anchoring the boat, the guard in the rear spoke up for the first time.
"What's with the Dementors?"
The helmsman chuckled darkly.
"Oh, they're always eager to greet a new guest. We usually get a couple curious ones out to meet us every time we bring somebody new. Get your Patronuses ready."
There was a quaver of fear in Front-Guard's voice as he replied.
"Mate, I don't know what your standards are, but that looks like more than a few."
The helmsman finally turned from the knots to see what Ed had mistaken for a cloud of smoke.
"Bloody hell, that's nearly every one of the buggers on the island!"
"They're headed this way!"
"Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
As he heard the guards panicking, Ed decided to make his move. Snapping what was left of his bonds in one swift movement, he stood and prepared to deliver an Automail roundhouse to the guard at his back. He quickly became more preoccupied with the wave of howls that emanated inside of his mind as one of the ragged beings swooped closer. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as Pride said something but was drowned out by the screaming souls of the Stone.
Scenes flashed before his eyes as the Dementors drew ever nearer, some of them from his own life, and some of them from places and times he'd never seen before.
He found himself once again in the Tucker's basement, gazing dumbstruck at the horror that had been Nina.
He was watching, transfixed as men on horses rode through a burning village, cutting down those who tried to defend themselves and laying waste to their homes.
He was at the edge of an all-too-familiar transmutation circle, poised to clap and conduct the miracle that would bring his mother back-
A tattered cloak brushed his face, and Edward Elric knew no more.
And let the cliffhanger rage begin!
In response to your reviews…
A certain lazy anonymous guest- I don't really know. Maybe they need to keep warm? Although cremating bodies would be an alternative use. References… I don't know if I'm being too vague, but they're there. Mr. Grey (Chapter 5) is my own little homage to Make A Wish, one of the best HP fanfics ever. A lot of the other stuff has been pretty vague. Room 42- (as in 42) at the Leaky Cauldron, Fermier in Lab 5 (haha, get it?) etc. Little stuff mainly. Just me having fun.
But seriously folks. This is it until, like Thanksgiving or something. On an unrelated note, I missed Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day, and that made me sad.
Anyway, see you all in a month or so!
-Ambiguity