Unlike most of the other classes, the students in Edward's class were dead silent even before he started teaching. It may have been because of the pieces of chalk lined up neatly at the edge of his desk, but Ed liked to think that it was his natural charisma that commanded respect from the students.
"Now, before I begin, I'd like to congratulate the few of you who has already figured out the riddle from the previous lesson," Ed said. Even though Hermione was the only one, he figured that a little embellishment would get the slackers to work harder. "The purpose of the riddle is to find out if you really do have what it took to become adept at the use of alchemy. Next Monday's the deadline, and those who give me an acceptable answer will be allowed to proceed further with the actual practice of alchemy than those who do not, along with being able to ask me one question that I will answer the best I can, within reason. Understood?" Everyone nodded.
"Great. Now, today, I will be covering a few topics." Ed wrote 'Equivalent Exchange' on the board again. "All of you should burned this law into your brains by now." They all nodded again. "Well, Equivalent Exchange can be separated into two more specific laws. Anyone wanna try and guess them?"
Draco Malfoy put up his hand, though his expression remained disinterested. "The result of the alchemy has to be the same weight as its components before the transmutation."
"Not bad, Malfoy," Ed said, impressed. Draco's Slytherin fans all gave him pats on the back as compliments. "You're not just a rich, arrogant kid who's only good for target practice, after all." Draco scowled.
"Malfoy's right, however," Ed declared as he scribbled on the board. "The Law of Conservation of Mass. Matter cannot be created from nothing, nor can it be destroyed entirely. For example, if I wanted to create a statue weighing one kilogram, I would need one kilogram of materials, and if I were to destroy that statue, the resulting components would be equal to one kilogram as well. Got it?" Some students nodded, some shook their heads and some looked utterly confused.
"Those of you who don't, too bad. Consider everything you don't understand your homework. Now, next law, anybody?"
There were a few guesses across the room, but none of them were right. At least it wasn't a total waste; Parvati Patil, Blaise Zabini and Lee Jordan were the students to guess.
Ed wrote on the blackboard as he spoke. "The Law of Natural Providence. A an object or material can only be transmuted into objects or materials with the same basic elements or properties. Wood into wood, stone into stone, but not wood into stone. Questions?" Ron put up his hand. "Yes, Weasley?"
"Sorry, Professor, we didn't have any questions," Ginny, Fred and George all said at once, trying to contain their smiles. The class burst out into laughter.
Three pieces of chalk flew through the air, barely a blur, and smacked right into the three Weasley's foreheads. The chalk pieces stayed intact this time, and clattered on the floor. "Now, anyone else wants to have a good time?" Ed threatened, a killer grin on his face. Everyone fell immediately silent.
As Ginny rubbed the pink, stinging flesh, covered with white chalk marks, Fred and George puffed out their chests, wearing the injury like a badge of honor. "Worth it," the twins chimed together.
"Now, Ron, do you have a question for me or am I going to have one more target to practice on?" Ed said, glaring at the final Weasley.
Ron sputtered, trying to remember what he wanted to ask. As Ed reached for another piece of chalk, he spoke up quickly. "Wait, I got it! Can you turn lead into gold?"
There were a lot of ways to answer that one. Ed could have told the class that it would take a lot of lead or coal and a very complicated transmutation circle, about how alchemists took centuries to learn about the unique relationship lead had with gold, about how it could seriously damage the economy.
So he didn't. "No, you can't." A few of the faces looked genuinely disappointed. "You are not going to be happy if you think alchemy can be used for a get rich quick scheme." He saw people look at Fred and George.
"Now that we've dealt with your greed, I expect all of you to memorize this by heart as well," Edward ordered as they copied the definitions down, wiping the blackboard clean. "Now we move on to the actual act of alchemy in action: the transmutation. Or as you all might know it as: clap, boom and magic."
"Are you going to be teaching us how to do that now?" Ginny asked, excited.
Ed laughed. "Not even close, girl Weasley." He wrote three words on the board. "Transmutation is a precise science, with three, equally important steps. Comprehension, deconstruction and reconstruction. For now, we'll be focusing on the first one.
"Comprehension is to understand the inherent structure and properties of the atomic or molecular makeup of a material that you want to transmute, including the flow of energy in it. Now, in order to do so, you need to know the fundamentals of chemistry and molecular science..."
The double period class seemed to drag forever as Edward drew and explained the alchemical science behind the most common elements in the world, plus those most commonly used in alchemy and transmutations. Students like Ron had given up moments after Ed began his full length, Muggle Studies-like lecture, and those who were remotely interested in alchemy found it impossible to understand. Even Hermione was having trouble keeping up.
Loud sighs of relief rippled throughout class when the bell announced the end of the lesson, though everyone staying in their seats, waiting for instructions from their professor, lest they suffer his white-hot, chalky wrath.
Ed dusted his gloves off after such a long period of non-stop writing. "Alright, I want all of you to write a report on the properties of any material of your choosing based on what you learned today. The more common the material, the better. If it doesn't meet my standards, detention. Report's due next lesson."
The entire class groaned. "But that's two days from now!" Pansy whined.
"Yes, I know how days work, Parkinson," Ed said, rolling his eyes. "You've got all of Saturday morning to do it as well, so I don't see the problem."
A disorganized chorus of reluctant acceptance followed the students out of the classroom, leaving Ed, Ginny and Luna behind.
"We think we've solved your riddle, Professor," Ginny boasted.
"Really? If you're wrong, that means instant detention, you know," Ed warned them.
"We won't be," Ginny confidently assured. "Tell him, Luna."
Luna adjusted her glasses with the air of an accomplished scholar. " 'All is One, One is All' represents a cycle, where the world provides the necessities for us to live, and we in turn provide the world what it needs to continue on living."
"Huh. That's actually right," Ed said. "How did you come to that conclusion?" Then, remembering Luna's bizarre... existence, he waved his hand. "No, never mind, I don't want to know." Luna seemed disappointed, not able to share her theory.
"So can we get our questions now?" Ginny asked excitedly.
"Question," Ed corrected. "You two shared the answer, so you have to share the reward."
"Fine. So can we use it now?"
"Sure."
The two of them entered a whispered discussion. Then, when they seemed to agree, Ginny did the talking. "Could you give us a hint or something so we can learn alchemy faster?"
Ed gawked at the question, before he scoffed in amusement. "There's no shortcut to alchemy. It's all hard work and determination. With a little bit of talent."
"Sounds like something every other teacher would say," Ginny mumbled.
"We're not looking for a shortcut, Professor," Luna clarified. "We were just wondering if there was any tips you could give us that would prepare us to perform transmutations quicker when the time comes."
Ed felt guilty. For someone as 'loony' as she was, Luna held a great deal of intelligence in that mind of hers. Maybe he misjudged her.
Luna swatted at something invisible, like trying to get rid of a fly. Maybe not.
"If you really want to waste no time learning how to transmute, you'll need to seriously learn, think about and understand everything I said today, along with paying full attention in future classes," Ed told them. They nodded, with anticipating looks on their faces. "I'm not going to let you even attempt to do so if this," he waved at the blackboard, "isn't second nature to you girls." They nodded again, eyes wide. Ed sighed. "Alright, here's a tip. You need to be able to draw perfect circles and straight lines when the time comes, so practice on that."
The girls, Ginny mostly, squealed in excitement. The Weasley girl gave Ed a quick, surprised hug, before dragging Luna out of class, rapidly talking all the way. Ed just stood there, flabbergasted.
With class over, Ed returned to more pressing matters. The Philosopher's Stone. Dumbledore did not, in fact, know of a more valuable source than human lives, but he was convinced that Nicolas would not have committed such atrocities. Edward wasn't focusing on what Flamel did, however, but what the knowledge of the Philosopher's Stone could have on this world. If Voldemort was truly as horrible as Ed had heard, it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume that he would be looking for a way to create one of his own.
Then Ed thought back, to the men who captured him. They had sticks, wands, and tried to use their spells on him before the circle brought him to London. If someone could send wizards to Amestris reliably, that could only mean that another in this world had a great deal of knowledge about alchemy. It could even be Voldemort himself.
If his hunch was right, there was an entire nation of people threatened by the mad vision the dark wizard had. Wizards and non-wizards alike. Innocents that would become victims. Ed couldn't stand the thought of leaving an entire world to die, or worse, just because of his selfish need to get home.
But that was all it was. A hunch. A feeling. No concrete evidence to prove him right or wrong. For all he knew, the art of alchemy in this world could have died with Flamel. And Ed's own world needed him. His brother needed him.
Thunder rumbled across the Hogwarts campus. Ed felt an aching in his shoulder and leg where the automail connected. He stared wistfully at the gray clouds looming in the horizon.
A world for a world. Equivalent Exchange. But how could he choose?
The moment the circle activated, a bright light engulfed Al, and he felt like he was being pulled apart, stretched to his absolute breaking point, not to mention the rapid flash of colors that Al had no way of looking away from. It was at times like these he wished he was able to black out, or be knocked unconscious. Though his predicament meant that he was unable to throw up, which he was slightly grateful for.
When the world finally stopped being a blur, Al had to steady himself against the nearest surface. Being nothing but a soul in a suit of armor, he wasn't able to feel dizzy or nauseous, but the ordeal left him curiously disoriented, something he hasn't felt since the accident.
He found himself in the center of a circular room. The center area was surrounded by low wooden walls, except for a short corridor that ended at a door. Wooden benches were located behind the walls, escalating in height with each bench. Directly opposite the corridor was a massive wooden podium, towering even over Al in height, and he could see a chair at the top of the podium. The walls were high reaching, with aged illustrations residing in small alcoves along the walls.
This looked like where criminals would be trialed before their sentencing to Al, belonging to an important or rich government, judging by the embellishments and the detail in the room. He wasn't in the abandoned mansion anymore. "Hello?" Al called out, his metallic voice echoed throughout the room. Al was prepared to engage any hostiles that appeared, but none did. "Anyone there?" Nothing. "I'll just be leaving, then," Al called out one last time.
He moved towards the door, hunching over to not scrape his head against the ceiling, and exited this room. It led to a large, square room, supported by dark stone pillars placed strategically all across the room. Similar doors were carved into the sides of the room, with one set of stairs leading upwards and another leading downwards on opposite ends.
With the metal clanking of armored boots echoing throughout the halls, Al thought it would be better if he went up, get a better vantage point to observe the area.
The next floor was equally dark and disturbing. A corridor connected two doors on either end to the flight of stairs Al took. He decided to go through the door closest to him.
This one led to a large circular room, with tunnels going vertically up, and grates preventing entrance to the tunnels. There was one grate that was not closed, and a man stood in an extremely small, well lit room. The man, dressed in what looked like a military uniform, just stood and stared blankly at Al. "Um, hello? Mister? Where am I?"
The man's expression didn't change. "Hello?" Al asked. Still no response. Al threw caution to the wind, and stepped into the box with the man.
At this point, the man spoke. "Where to?"
Al was confused. Not because the man finally broke his wall-like demeanor, but that he was speaking a language that Al has never heard of before. What was weirder was that Al understood the man perfectly. The response Al wanted to give seemed to translate automatically in his mind. "Umm... take me out of here, please."
"Right, level eight it is then," he droned.
"Excuse me," Al politely asked, still puzzled at how he's able to speak and understand a completely foreign language, "but could you take me to the exit, not level eight?"
"Take the phone booth from the Atrium at level eight. This lift doesn't go to the exit," the man spoke, emotionless and monotone.
"Oh. Thank you," Al said. The man did not respond.
Al did not expect what was waiting for him at level eight. A whirlwind of colors, people bustling about their business, a massive golden fountain depicting people and some creature stood in the middle of the massive atrium, spouting water into the small pool below them. What seemed like colored papers flew periodically overhead from hall to hall.
Al stepped out of the elevator in awe. The people looked at him, irritated, and gave him a wide berth, but otherwise doing nothing. The flying paper, the people appearing from green flames in fireplaces, the massive, moving banner of some old guy; it all seemed so wondrous, so impossible. Almost like-
"You! In the armor! Stop right there!" a stern voice called. Everyone look at Al, horrified, before moving away from him, and parting the way for a group of robed men and women. The man had a hardened look in his eyes, like he had seen many battles before. They were all pointing sticks at Al. "Show me your identification!"
Al held his hands up. "I-I'm sorry, I don't have any identification."
The man looked at one of his allies, a woman with pink hair. "Restrain him," he ordered. The woman nodded. Thick ropes shot out from the end of her stick, binding Al's arms together behind his back.
"Hey!" Al exclaimed. The robed people slowly approached him carefully, sticks still raised aggressively. These people were not friendly. Tapping his bound hands together, Al used alchemy to deconstruct the ropes binding him together, freeing him from his restraints.
Al ducked just in time, a flash of red light flying over his head. The man was yelling orders to his subordinates, and they all seemed prepared to fight. It was wise to avoid whatever enemies were shooting at you, even if they were shooting bolts of light. A quick flurry of blows took out the few that were closest to him. Before they could do anything else, Al clapped his hands together again and created a column of stone below him, propelling him towards the fireplaces. If people could enter from there, they could exit as well.
Landing with a large thud, Al spotted the red phone booth the man in the elevator was talking about. He didn't understand how the fireplaces worked, so the phone booth was his safest bet. It, too, had a large shaft going upwards. Al reasoned that this massive place was underground.
He took off for the booth, trying to anticipate and dodge the beams of light coming from behind him. With loud cracks announcing their arrival, more robed figures appeared in front of Al, sticks that could shoot light raised at him. He clapped again, going into a low slide, dropping under the lights, and created two massive makeshift shields.
Pushing himself back onto his feet and keeping him momentum, Al could block the bolts coming at him from the front with his new defenses. Lights blasted against the stone shields as Al made his way closer to his escape point.
He pushed off to the side, smashing into one of the men, knocking him unconscious, before hurling one of his shields, smashing open the tube above the phone booth, the shield shattering upon destroying the reinforced glass.
Al leaped into the shaft, feet first, before fusing the stone shield with the rest of the glass, sealing it shut. The man stared daggers at Al, before yelling some orders to his fellow attackers. The alchemist looked up. The shaft led up, up and away, into darkness, and Al was above the phone booth.
Then, he had an idea. Clapping his hands again, he transmuted a hole in the wall beside him, revealing dirt. Once there was a big enough hole to fit his large body, he deconstructed the earth above and around him, reconstructing it below his feet, creating a makeshift elevator as the dirt rose away from the underground complex.
A hole in the walkway above appeared, and Al's armored helmet popped through like a gopher, scanning the streets for any sign of the robed people. When he was happy there wasn't, at least for now, he raised the dirt and repaired the path.
At first glance, Al thought that he just came out of a super lair beneath Central. But the more he looked, the more he saw differences between this place and Central. The longer he lingered, the more time those men and women had to catch up to him, so Al ran.
He hunched over as he ran, trying to make his large frame seem smaller. That didn't work, though. A massive suit of armor running through the streets did attract some eyes and pointed fingers.
When he felt like he had put enough distance between him and the underground lair, Al slipped into a small alley and created a concrete box for him to hide in.
Sitting in the darkness, in complete silence, waiting for the robed men and women to give up chasing him gave Al plenty of time to think. An unknown language, wildly advanced automobiles, a city he hasn't seen before. Could he have been sent to another world?
An involuntary shiver started to come over Al. What if he'd been hallucinating the entire time? All his memories, all artificially implanted into this hunk of metal, forced to work for whoever those men are. What if Amestris was just a figment of his imagination, created to keep him in line? What if he was never human in the first place?
Al hugged himself tightly. The last time his fears took over, Winry was there to bring him to his senses. But what if she was a lie too? Al started rocking back and forth unconsciously, mind racing about the truth of his life. If it could even be called that.
He snapped to alertness as he felt small, short vibrations on the ground. Footsteps. Al started to hear footsteps as whoever was outside got closer. It stopped, right outside of Al's improvised hideout.
Escape scenarios started to unfold in Al's mind, putting aside his existential crisis for now. He could head underground again, but he didn't know how far or wide reaching their lair was, so it probably was not a good idea. Al didn't know how many of them were out there, so he could shoot rocks out from inside the box, just like how Major Armstrong does. Then he could escape to the roof of either of the buildings. But then there was the problem of-
"Excuse me? Hello? Are you in there?" a woman's voice asked, knocking on Al's box.
He was confused. She sounded nice, and she didn't sound like she was after him, but that could all be a ruse to get him captured.
"Hello?" the voice asked, and tapped once more.
Against all better judgment, and the knowledge that Ed would kill him if he found out, Al answered her. "What do you want?"
"I just want to talk," the voice assured.
"That's code for 'I've got people ready to take you out the moment you appear', right?" Al said, hesitantly.
"No, it's not," she persuaded. Al thought he heard laughter. "I really just want to talk before they find us. Maybe move someplace quiet. Kinda hard to do that when you're in a box."
Al, easily trusting and convinced, returned the stone around him to the original alley walls and floor. "Okay..."
The woman talking to him was wearing the same black robes, and had bright pink hair. "You know, you sound a lot younger than you look."
"Wait, you're the woman that shot ropes at me!" Al exclaimed. He knew this was a bad idea.
"Wait, wait, wait!" the woman urged. "Give me a chance to explain, alright?" Al contemplated, then nodded. "Well, you can't blame us for being so aggressive, I mean, you did show up out of nowhere in that badass suit."
"I guess so..."
"To us, it seemed like you somehow infiltrated the heart of the Ministry, and that made you an immediate threat. But then when I saw you doing that wandless magic-"
"Alchemy."
She snapped her fingers excitedly. "Yes, alchemy! You can use alchemy, which means I have a pretty good idea who you are and how you got here."
"Really?" Al asked. "How can you be so sure?"
"Easy: with one question. Do you know who Edward Elric is?"
Ed sneezed. Apparently, the ceiling in the Great Hall was 'enchanted' to mimic the weather outside, and with it pouring rain from the sky above, Ed thought that he caught a cold from something in the air, even though there was no actual rain indoors.
Dinner was lively. With Umbridge supposedly away giving detention to a student, it seemed like the whole school could cut loose, just for this moment. Unfortunately, the storm was making Ed's automail ache constantly, so he didn't share the same enthusiasm as everyone else.
"Bless you," McGonagall said, sitting beside him.
"Huh?" Edward looked at her, confused. "Oh, right. Yeah, thanks."
"Is something the matter, Edward? You seem terribly distracted."
Yeah, the rain is making my metal limbs hurt. "It's nothing."
She didn't look happy with the answer. "If you insist." McGonagall paused for a moment. "How is your way home coming along?" she asked, lowering her voice.
"Not that great. Flamel seemed to have given up on the 'normal' way and tried to use a shortcut. If there even is a 'normal' in this situation," he sighed, still coming to terms that Flamel would kill for the Stone, then not using it to get home anyway. A disgusting waste of human life.
"Then is it not possible for you to use the same shortcut?"
"No," Ed said without hesitation.
The abruptness and forcefulness of the answer shocked McGonagall. "Well, then I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, Edward."
The alchemist thought hard for a while. "What do you teach?"
Again, McGonagall was taken aback at his rudeness, but she was slowly getting used to it. "Transfiguration."
"What's that?"
"It is the branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, and can be considered one of the most dangerous and complex forms of magic the students learn here," she explained, almost as if she was teaching a class.
"Why?" Ideas and revelations were starting to form in Ed's mind.
"The nature of Transfiguration makes it so that it requires extreme precision and hard work from the caster, and thus can result in extremely disastrous results if performed improperly." McGonagall looked at Edward curiously. "I was under the impression you did not believe in magic, Edward. Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Well, it's not like I have much choice, do I?" Ed reluctantly admitted. "Besides, I think that there's a connection with all of this," he waved primarily at the enchanted ceiling, "to alchemy."
"You have a very open mind," McGonagall said, though Ed was pretty sure that was sarcasm.
"Whatever. Mind if I sit in some of your classes?" he asked, though he was going to do it regardless.
A short pause. "I see no reason why I would not allow it. Though I must warn you, Edward, I will not tolerate any outbursts or interruptions in my class," she said, strictly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be on my best behavior," Ed promised, half-heartedly. Maybe by learning how energy is manipulated in this world, he could get a better understanding of how the Four-Point Circle worked.
It was better than what Flamel did.
Author's afterword: Thanks for leaving reviews. It really feeds my ego- ahem, I mean it encourages me, and also gives me inspiration. I've also stuck with this for just about 10 days now, which is a new record for me. Also, action scenes are fun to write. :D
Leave a review if you don't mind; I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing.
