Edward sat across from the old man, his golden eyes careful to take in every facial expression, every slight movement. Anything that could help him. The former alchemist's question hung in the air. What was the veil, where was it and how could he get back.
"I'm afraid I don't know what a 'veel' is Edward, can you describe it for me?" The old man's blue eyes were harder now, searching for the truth. Edward took a moment to mentally translate what had been said to him, until he could think of what to say.
"Dat plaze, das veel. Iche habe keine Idee, vie mann diezez Vort das Ihrer Sprache, Alchimieplatzke sagt, das der Sie alten Mann kämpften. Vhere da man dis gonee." Edwards brow knit together, angered by the fact he couldn't find the words. This language was frustrating beyond belief.
Dumbledore sat for a moment as Edward had, trying to figure out the boy's thick accent.
"Sie konndener minderstens der verdammtzck Versuch, meine Sprache herausfinden!" Edward growled, his patience wearing thin at how long the old man was taking to reply. Dumbledore looked unamused by the boy's outburst, and lay his hands on the table. "Edward, shouting at me will get this conversation nowhere, we are trying to figure out what has happened."
"Möglicherweise, wenn Sie jetztk zo bumsenzck dumm wareen." Edward smiled, before speaking again. "Das Zorrie, continuuo Dumladoor."
The elderly wizard sat across the table and surveyed the boy. His options in this situation were definitely few. Snape's reports were very inconclusive as to where the boy came from, as all his thoughts were in whatever strange language he spoke. Place Edward had mentioned, this... Ametris, Dumbledore could not think of any such place. Whatever Dumbledore himself had found little information of use in his own prodding into the boy's mind.
"Edward, I am going to be perfectly clear as to what the situation is, but first, would you like a spot of tea?" Edward's cold eyes narrowed at the wizard, remembering what had happened last time he was offered tea. "Niene."
Dumbledore could feel the dead weight of the vial of potion in his pocket as the pause stretched out. "You seem like an intelligent young man Edward, so I need you to cooperate with me. The place you just told me, Ametris, it doesn't exsist-"
"Vut? Niene, Ametris isch daz coountre überz deme shleier hinauz. Veel, bihoonzd." Edward interrupted, his eyes drown in frustration. Why couldn't this stupid old man just understand what he was saying? That weird place with the veil and the man who died was was all he wanted to know about!
Before Dumbledore could reply a silvery form crept into the room, followed by Snape, who was looking just as disheveled and tired 'as always. Both of the men sitting down turned to look at him, Edward's anger finding a focal point as Dumbledore spoke.
"What is it Severus?"
The potions master didn't speak for a moment, his eyes locked with the golden haired boy. His black eyes lazily rolled away as Edward sucked his teeth in anger. "I have news from Kingsley and the Ministry. It seems no one by the name of Edward Elric has ever existed, not even as a muggle. No one has any idea who he is, the Ministry has looked high and low for the boy, and yet not a single one of their records make note of him."
Edward tried to keep up with conversation but there was little he could do, the inflections the greasy man put on words made it hard for him to understand, which only fueled his frustration. From what he could gather though his chances of escape fell through to shit, as both men quickly drew their sticks and pointed them at him.
A heartbeat passed before anything happened. "Vut?" was all Ed could say.
The next few hours flew by in a whirl of hushed voices and angry glances. Ed had absolutely no idea what was going on, but from what he could tell was it was not good and he was being moved. Some new words were mentioned enough times for Edward to retain their meanings, and he gathered it mostly had to do with a 'Potter', though another word seemed to be able to replace it: 'Harry'. Edward had tried to make conversation with Tonks when he saw her, but her sad eyes avoided his. And so Edward was left to wonder what a 'Potter' was as he analyzed the movement patterns of the group transporting him.
Had it been a normal group of people he might have been able to get away, but one man kept a particularity close eye on him, a older man with a strange eye and a hard temper. Edward couldn't help but think that if he didn't loath everyone involved in this hostage mission the man might make a good officer. He certainly could command well enough.
Yet for all his watchfulness Edward was never again left alone, he now constantly had a guard at all times as they moved though the night. The clothes Ed had been given itched and were a couple sizes too big, and he longed to transmute them into something, anything more comfortable. The familiar tug in his chest came again, a constant reminder that he would never do alchemy again.
Edward sighed as the group around him drew closer and they headed away from the insane place he'd been imprisoned, and out into the country side towards some terrible unknown.
"Vaz itch Alphonse tun solltez?" Edward asked the night, earning him a glare from one of his guards.
Author's Note: Sorry for not updating for so long, and for the shortness of the chapter, I got off track with the break. For everyone/anyone who is wondering what Edward is saying, it's pretty basic: What am I doing here? Who are you? So on and so forth really.
Things are about to get a lot more difficult for Edward...