Ch. 6- Showing Up Snape
Double Potions was next. Ed had heard Harry complaining about the teacher, but he was still looking forward to the class. Creating potions seemed to be a cross between alchemy and cooking; you add a specific amount of different ingredients together in a cauldron to create a specific product.
The four Gryffindors entered the dungeons early so Ed began reading the Transfigurations book for year three. He'd already decided to skip Magical History, since everything was information and each year brought new material. It lightened his load, however little, which helped him somewhat. He was on chapter two when he felt an ominous presence lingering over him. He shut the book and looked up to find the teacher, Professor Snape, he presumed.
"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Elric?" he asked.
His voice was smooth and almost snake-like. He reminded Ed of Mustang, what with the way he seemed to relish his power as a teacher and the light smirk he had on his face.
"I was merely trying to catch up before class," Ed replied politely, despite his annoyance, "I was going to put it away once we started."
"Class has already started," Snape corrected him.
Ed glanced at the clock on the far wall; it was five seconds after the beginning of class, meaning he still had time before Snape came over. Ed nodded anyway; better to agree with the teacher and suck up to him instead of getting on his bad side. Edward was convinced Snape was performing a sort of initiation situation for him to test him out. Once he learned he couldn't infuriate Ed, he'd back off. At least, that's what Ed learned in the military from Mustang, although he'd lost that game.
"My apologies, Professor," he said, putting the book away.
"Mr. Elric, have you read up to year five for the Potions material?" Snape asked, changing the direction of his initiation.
"No, Sir," Ed replied, respectively and calmly, "I have only read up to year three."
"Why aren't you prepared for this class, Mr. Elric?" Snape asked next. Edward could tell he was becoming peeved by his collected answers.
"I am reading my textbooks by year. I'm treating each class equally because each class is equally important to my education," Ed explained.
Snape's face was screwed up in clear frustration because he couldn't get Ed to raise his voice or talk in a rude manner or do some other offense to take away points and land him in detention. After trying to think of something he could say to change this, Snape reluctantly went to the front of the class and told everyone to turn to page 735.
"We'll be making the Wolfsbane potion," he said, "It's probably the hardest you will learn this year so I'll be grading it as such. It's worth 40 percent of your final grade so you'd better not mess it up. I'm not giving out extra credit to students who cannot get something right."
He stalked to his desk and sat down, ignoring the class and silently telling them they'd get no help and no sympathy. Reluctantly, the class got to work, too afraid to groan lest they lose valuable points.
Edward flipped to the correct page and read the directions. Not only was the potion based on intricate ingredients in specific amounts and cut shapes, but it was also based on time. At one point there was a thirty second window to cut a section of the Wolfsbane root into crescent shapes and drop it into the cauldron one by one. Clearly, Snape was doing this to try and flunk him. Of course, if he had alchemy this would be a snap, but unfortunately that was impossible here.
Instead he prepared the ingredients beforehand and then started adding everything to the cauldron in the correct order. He looked up once to see that Ron, Harry, and even Hermione had followed his idea, and that Snape was glaring at him, trying to strike him dead with his intense stare.
Soon Ed's potion was taking the distinct putrid smell that was expected of it. Snape had stopped glaring at him, as he finally decided it wasn't working, and was now looking greatly perturbed that Ed's potion was coming along correctly. He was even more perturbed when, at the end of the double period, all the Gryffindors had a promised 40 out of 100 for their final grade on the second day of class. Edward was smirking behind his stoic face; Snape had dug his own grave, and equivalent exchange had buried him in it. It was the way of the world at it again.
Seven o'clock came quickly afterward. Ed finished year three of his textbooks before dinner and half of year four before his supposed 'detention'. He arrived at his father's new office at 7:30, just to be safe; he wanted another detention so he would have a liable excuse to talk with his father.
"You're late," Professor Hoenheim said as he rose from his desk, arms crossed.
"I know," Edward smirked, "Guess you have to give me another detention."
His father shook his head and chuckled lightly; his son would never change. He'd always have the same childish arrogance to him that he had when he was young. It was the side that refused to drink anything that came out of a cow and bashed anyone referring to his lack of height.
"Didn't you have something you wanted to show me?" he asked at last.
"Right," Ed replied, digging in his pocket and pulling out his wand, rolling it between his fingers as he talked, "When I got this thing something weird happened and it showed me a vision of Amestris. It dissolved after giving me a glimpse of what's going on over there. Al had his body back but he looked young, and Winry looked herself. Dumbledore taught me how to do it again. It's called scrying; you can see the future, past, or present of those you know. Right now I can only see the present, but I'm working on it. Anyway, the second time I saw Al he was trying to find a way to bring me back. Apparently when I revived him, the Gate took his memories, but in my vision he had them back."
"Incredible," Hoenheim uttered softly, shaking his head in disbelief, "This world is so different from ours. There are things we've never even dreamed of in everyday life for these people."
"And none of it makes sense," Ed pointed out with a frown, then changing the subject. "Hey, are we giving this thing a test drive, or what?" he asked with a glint in his eyes.
"Go ahead," his father bade.
Edward concentrated now, pulling the love for his brother and the agony of being separated from him to the forefront of his mind in order to call for him. This time, the vision formed quicker and took less of a strain on Ed's body; he could tell he was improving this skill. Perhaps he'd even be able to see the future someday, but at the moment he had to focus on the present.
A picture of Alphonse materialized from Ed's wand. He was sitting in the same room at the same desk. A different book was spread out in front of him this time and he was sleeping, arms crossed under his head, one hand still gripping the edge of the book. His dirty-blond hair was falling in his face, and as he exhaled, the strands would flutter slightly from the sudden gust.
The coat that Ed had left behind when he transmuted himself for Al's life was draped over the chair, neatly folded. Alphonse was wearing his shirt, which seemed to fit him perfectly. It was odd seeing his old clothes on his brother, but somehow it was comforting; the clothes suited him.
Ed broke the connection since there didn't seem to be any change in his brother's state. Just before he did so, he thought he heard Al whisper, "Brother", in his slumber, but it could have been his imagination. His father was staring at the place where the vision had been, his eyes seeming solemn and lonely.
"I miss him," Hoenheim said quietly.
"So do I," replied Edward, tucking his wand back in his robes.
"Well," his father changed the subject, "in order for this detention to seem official, I'd say you have another hour before you can leave. Was there anything else?"
"No; I haven't had time to search the library for a way home and all my theories are impossible without alchemy."
Ed sighed and sat down in one of the chairs by his father's desk, letting his head fall into his outstretched hands.
"I want to leave before I get attached," he said after a moment, "I can already feel myself belonging here and I don't want that; I want to go home where I truly belong."
"I understand," Hoenheim said, "I know how it feels to leave those you care about; the sooner we find a way home, the easier it'll be for everyone."
That said, Edward turned to the textbooks he had brought with him. Two hours passed before he realized he could leave. He set up another detention for Saturday at the same time, bade his father a good night, and wound his way through the corridors to the Gryffindor house entrance, checking his map now and then for guidance. He gave the Fat Lady the password and stumbled into the common room, collapsing into the nearest chair and pulling out the next book in line.
The clock struck midnight before he returned to the boys' dorm, satisfied he had only one year of text left to finish. After scribbling the day's events into his journal and securing it in his suitcase, he crawled into bed and snuggled under the covers with the essence of worry on his mind; this place was already starting to feel like a home, and only two days had passed.