I am so, so sorry for the lateness. I got caught up in Christmas, and this chapter has been sitting on my computer half-finished for nearly a month. But I hope everyone will forgive me xD;;

And so, with the apology over, I (belatedly) bring you the sixth chapter of There are Too Many Weirdoes in this Castle! :D

Disclaimer~

Chapter Six - Secrets

"You coming to Hagrid's with us, Ed?" Ron asked, snapping Ed out of his reverie.

Ed shook his head sloppily. "Nah. Detention with McGonagall."

Harry snickered. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't misbehave and land yourself in even more detentions than you already have," she warned, before the three parted ways, exchanging half-hearted waved and cheers of 'goodbye'.

Ed sighed as soon as they were around the corner and out of earshot. For some reason, he was just so damn tired. Maybe all that late-night studying's catching up to me.

Ed wandered into Professor McGonagall's office ten minutes late, fingering her phoenix-feather quill on the shelf as he passed it.

McGonagall looked slightly annoyed at his unpunctuality, but didn't voice her irritation out loud. Ed had failed to arrive to a single one of her detentions on time. She had mentally given in, eventually, and was just glad he was showing up at all. "Nice to see you, Mr. Elric," she greeted curtly, her image the epitome of prim and proper perfection.

"Yo," he greeted back casually, his mismatched hands in his leather pockets, distantly admiring the various murals adorning her office walls with a somewhat thoughtful expression.

McGonagall didn't interrupt his hazy appreciation of her decorating skills for quite a while. He was so rarely in this calm, soothed sort of mood, and she was loath to disturb it. He was usually so uptight and sarcastic; it was strangely interesting seeing him acting somewhat like Luna Lovegood. Perhaps the girl really is rubbing off on him, McGonagall mused while organizing the scattered parchment on her mahogany desk.

"What am I doing today?" he asked eventually, staring intently at McGonagall, though she didn't feel unnerved as she usually did when he did that.

"Today," she started, preparing herself for the outburst that was sure to come, "we will be talking."

Ed's eyes widened. "What?"

"I am... curious about your situation, Mr. Elric. I know you're not a regular student, and that you're hiding many things. That much is obvious."

Ed took a seat in front of her desk. When her tone was hard like that, he knew there was no way to get out of the predicament he'd gotten himself into without digging himself further into the hole. He sighed heavily, though McGonagall thought the sigh sounded more like one of a pressured adult than that of a stressed teenager. "What do you wanna know?"

McGonagall replied, almost too fast, "I'd like to know why you hate Transfiguration."

Ed snorted. "Protective of your subject, huh? Don't worry, it has nothing to do with you." He paused. "Most of the time."

McGonagall's lips pursed at the last comment, but she ignored it in favour of the question that had been scratching and clawing at the back of her mind since he'd first refused to transfigure anything. "That doesn't answer my question, Mr. Elric."

Ed's smirk grew into a dour scowl. "It wasn't supposed to," he growled.

"Why would you refuse to answer my question if you haven't got anything to hide?" McGonagall asked brusquely.

"Because I don't wanna fucking explain it!" Ed snapped back.

The two continued to glare at each other for a full five minutes before McGonagall huffed loudly and stood up, her chin high in the air as she strode out of her office, leaving a grumbling Edward thinking about how stupid he was.

McGonagall couldn't erase the thoughts of her detention with Edward from her mind. No matter what she tried to distract herself with, for the rest of that evening (and indeed most of the night) she just couldn't stop thinking about it. Both times she'd accused him of keeping secrets, he hadn't denied it. She knew he was hiding something, and she also knew that Edward knew that.

So now, the main question was: What was he hiding that could possibly make him detest transfiguration with every shred of his soul?

She decided she couldn't bear it anymore. She got out of her four-poster bed, spared the Victorian grandfather clock in the corner of the room a passing glance and proceeded to get dressed. She didn't doubt Albus would be awake - she'd often gone to see him in the middle of the night about things before, and every time he'd been awake without fail. It was five o'clock in the morning - she knew she would be getting up in an hour anyway. It didn't make much of a difference if she got up now, anyway.

She gracefully pulled on her emerald velvet cloak and made her way to Dumbledore's office. She whispered, "Let me through," to the stone gargoyle (she hadn't yet been informed of the new password), which promptly yawned and wandered out of her way, thankfully, without the password.

She rapped on the Headmaster's door, and within seconds Albus was greeting her and ushering her in, offering her a cup of freshly-brewed tea and commenting on how pretty the stars looked tonight.

The man would never fail to amaze her.

She politely took the tea and sipped it idly as she wondered how to go about this tactfully. Eventually, she gave up with subtlety, and she breeched the subject with, "Mr. Elric doesn't seem too fond of my lessons, Albus."

Said man smiled mischievously, reminding McGonagall of the Weasley twins, and replied in the most unhelpful way possible. "It looks so, doesn't it?"

Minerva set down her porcelain teacup on his desk in front of which she was seated. She didn't meet his sparkling gaze as she said, "I was wondering, Albus, if you knew anything about why."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You're fairly observant, aren't you, Minerva? I should have guessed as much, really." He sighed playfully, the smile still tugging at the corners of his withered lips.

Minerva snapped her head up in an uncharacteristic show of excitement and curiosity. "Could you tell me why, Albus?"

Dumbledore's smile grew broader. "It's - they're - not my secrets to tell, unfortunately." He tilted his head to the side slightly, thinking. "Although," he started slowly, "I suppose you will be 'worthy' of such information if you can manage to obtain it from Edward himself."

McGonagall sighed. "I've tried. I've tried, Albus, but the boy won't say a thing."

Dumbledore chuckled wryly. "I'd advise against calling him a 'boy' in his general company, Minerva."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes slightly in confusion. "Why ever not? I call the seventh-years 'boys', and they don't seem to mind."

Dumbledore's smile twisted into something dangerously close to a smirk. "Edward isn't a seventh-year, Minerva."

McGonagall knew those words held pure truth - Elric was a fifth-year, and a rather strange one at that - but she also knew those words held some warning, some hidden meaning, and she was sure it would lead her closer to the answers she so desperately desired. "That's the truth, Albus." She glanced at the grandfather clock. Five-thirty, it read. "I best be off."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling again. "It seems so."

McGonagall had her hand on the polished brass doorknob and was about to twist it when she heard Dumbledore whisper, clear as day, "Don't forget, Minerva - curiosity killed the cat."

"Hey, Ed - Ed!" Hermione called out as she jogged across to the Ravenclaw table, where Ed was studiously studying a book labeled 'Time and Its Components'.

Ed lifted his nonchalant gaze up to meet her eyes, though what he found instead was a newspaper apparently trying to communicate with him. "Hermione?"

"Yes!" the newspaper replied in a suspiciously Hermione-like voice, before shaking itself and pointing with a slender finger towards the front page headline.

Ed's eyes widened, and all thought of talking newspapers immediately vanished from his mind as he took in the four deadly words printed in bold black-and-white.

"'Strange Student at Hogwarts'," the newspaper squeaked, before turning itself around and reading itself out loud. "News has reached the Ministry of Magic of a queer new student's arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The first transfer student in Hogwarts's history, he transferred into the fifth year exactly one week ago. According to witnesses, he carries a metal right arm and long golden hair, and he wears nothing but black. Some say he is a cult rebel-"

"What?"

"-but the general consensus is that he is a foreigner Headmaster Albus Dumbledore let in behind the scenes. His arm is clean of the Dark Mark, but the Ministry would still advise his avoidance. Written by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

The newspaper finished reading itself, and wish trembling hands, passed itself over to Ed, who grabbed it harshly, creasing the corner. Ed skimmed the article once more himself, as if to check the newspaper hadn't read itself wrongly, before slowly turning his horror- and shock-filled gape towards Hermione, standing next to him with wide eyes and shaking hands. A logical part of Ed's brain noted that it had been Hermione, and that newspapers weren't talking to him - but the majority of his brain power went towards one single thought, and all the millions of implications and possibilities that went along with it.

"That's me," he whispered, barely audible. Of course, everyone heard him - the Great Hall had become deathly silent by the second line Hermione had read.

Hermione nodded almost hysterically, before dragging him away from the book now lying forgotten on the table and towards the Gryffindor table.

Ed plunked down dazedly on the bench - though on the outside he seemed to be in a total state of shock, his brain was whirring with everything he once learned, everything he was learning and everything he was about to learn once he figured out the message behind the jabbing paper.

Before Ron or Harry could question him, however, a sharp voice cut through the quiet murmurings arising throughout the Hall, "Edward Elric!"

Minerva McGonagall's voice echoed around the grand room as she marched up to Ed and proceeded to drag him down the aisle and out of the room by his loose, long hair. "You are going to explain this to me, Mr. Elric, if it's the last thing you do."

The great wooden doors slammed shut behind them, and immediately conversation, rumours and insolent laughter erupted from the other side.

McGonagall didn't wait until they were in her office. She stopped him a few yards away from the door, blocking his path, and all but screamed, "What is this?"

Ed knew the implications of the article. Not only had it accused him of being an untrustworthy foreigner, it had also shed an unwanted spotlight on Dumbledore, accusing him of doing something 'behind the scenes' to get Ed accepted, and it had begun to chisel away at the school's perfect record.

And for some reason, it appeared McGonagall was blaming him for this. Honestly, Ed thought, exasperated, it's not my fault I exist. He scowled slightly. And it's definitely not my fault that I got sent on this mission.

"What is it?" she repeated, as if Ed couldn't hear her perfectly well the first time.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" he snarled, almost bring his teeth at the professor.

She drew in a huge lungful of breath before letting it back out again in a stressed half-groan half-sigh, and turned to Edward. She started again in softer, but just as firm tones, "I know it isn't specifically you who is at fault here, Mr. Elric, but the article is about you, so I plan to address you about it."

Ed winced. "I know," he grudgingly admitted, turning into military man mode. Now wasn't the time for childish tantrums about whose fault it was - if he'd learned anything from six years in the military, he'd learned that. "I just... don't know what to do. I have absolutely nothing that I can prove as false in that article, and without knowing who exactly it was who told the Ministry, I can't do much in redemption, either."

McGonagall blinked, slightly perplexed at this new course in behaviour, though she shrugged it off as embarrassment, stress and a need to correct the article before things got out of hand. She sighed. "I am aware of that, Mr. Elric," she muttered, though not irritably. "Anyway," she clapped her hands loudly twice, as if to signal a new change in subject, "If you do not get going soon, Mr. Elric, you will be late for first period."

"Man, that was tiring!" Ron complained as the trio and Ed strolled down the corridor after Divination. "I don't know how the old bat does it. How can she see anything in those teacups? All I saw were leaves."

Harry smirked slightly. "That doesn't mean you had to say it to her face."

Ron scowled, clouting Harry hard around the back of the head.

Ed stopped abruptly as they reached a junction in the maze of hallways, and the trio was a good twenty metres away by the time they noticed. Ed always seemed so distant to them, so lost in his own thoughts - it was hard to notice him sometimes.

"Ed?" Hermione called down the quiet corridor. "Where are you going?"

Ed nodded in the direction of a well-concealed spiral staircase to his right. "Owlery," he said with a grin. "Family's expecting a letter." He spat the word 'family', and Harry wondered just what his family was like for Ed to despise them so much.

"Oh. I guess we'll see you soon?" Hermione said questioningly. Ed was always so unpredictable in his behaviour - one moment he was studying god-knows-what in front of the fireplace and the next he was practicing cartwheels on top of the greenhouses. (Ron insisted that he'd seen Ed actually doing that while staring out of the window during History of Magic, though neither Harry nor Hermione believed him.)

Ed nodded in affirmative, grinning broadly and throwing a lop-sided salute in their direction before leaping up the ascending staircase, leaving three utterly baffled wizards in his wake.

Harry and Ron shrugged it off, however, as just another facet to Edward's four-dimensional personality, and continued on their way to the cosy Gryffindor common room, dragging a reluctant and very suspicious Hermione behind them.

Ed, meanwhile, was struggling to contain his laughter at the trio's identical perplexed expressions of bewilderment from his craftily hidden spying place half-way up the stairs. That ought to confuse them, he thought sadistically. Though Ed was, primarily, warm-hearted and caring (though rather rough around the edges), he thoroughly enjoyed a good trick every now and then. His mangled, over-burdened childhood had led to an immature and childish adulthood, one which irritated even the most patient housewife and angered the calmest military commander.

Ed snickered to himself one last time before bounding off towards the Owlery; he'd spotted his owl not-so-subtly clawing at the window during one of his classes that morning with a roll of something white in its claws - which Ed had to assume was a letter - and, knowing it was probably his moron of a Colonel demanding a report, decided to check it out that night, when he'd be guaranteed at least a little privacy.

By the time Ed had trailed along the seventeenth corridor, he was utterly convinced that the castle was somehow plotting against him, and he was never to be allowed to find the Owlery. He'd only gotten a brief (and rather unhelpful) description of how to get half-way there from a boy named Dean, who slept in the bed opposite his. Unfortunately, Dean seemed to have assumed that Ed knew how to navigate the moving staircases.

I've been walking for nearly a whole fucking hour already! Ed's irritated frown was growing deeper (and scarier) by the second, and his mismatched footsteps were slowly becoming dangerously close to resembling stomps as he angrily trudged down the seemingly endless corridors. Where the fuck is the Owlery?

Twenty-seven minutes later, Ed found himself at the foot of a spiral staircase twirling upwards into pitch blackness. He thought that it made sense if the Owlery was at the top of a tower, so he sighed and began to march up the steps, careful not to make too much noise lest he awake a portrait.

When he reached the room awaiting him, he almost danced in joy; he'd finally found his destination, and his owl - he couldn't remember its name - was waiting for him on the balcony, a roll of parchment clutched in its sharp, pointy beak.

He slowly approached the animal, forcefully reminded of his many past incidents with animals that hadn't ended too well. He grimaced. "Here, it's okay," he whispered when the owl began to back up and fluff up its feathers. "I'm a nice guy, it's okay, I'm not gonna, uh, hit you or something."

Ed, in desperation, shoved his automail in the owl's face. "Look, it's me, Edward Elric! The Fullmetal Alchemist!" he hissed.

The shiny metal limb glinting in the pale moonlight seemed to convince the fickle owl, as it hopped forward and dropped the parchment in front of Ed, startling him some.

"Damn animal," Ed muttered as he bent down to pick up the paper. He noticed, as he settled into a comfortable sitting position on the floor where the letter had dropped, the startlingly red military seal on the back of the envelope. Definitely from Mustang.

Ed tore open the letter, ripping the paper slightly in the process (not that he cared much) and unrolled it, feeling awkwardly like some ancient scribe.

He read the letter quickly but thoroughly - it hadn't been written in code, as it was an official communication letter, so it took him less than a minute to read.

My dear subordinate Fullmetal,

How are you? I sincerely hope everything is progressing well on your side. I've got a new girlfriend since you've been gone, and she's dying to meet you, so do try to work a bit faster.

You've been at Hogwarts for a while, now, Fullmetal, and I've found myself wondering recently where your report is. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to know how things are going.

There has been no progression in the war with Drachma - at this rate, we might get away with no violence at all. Nevertheless, I would still be glad if you could strengthen ties with Hogwarts in case of a rebellion and possibly a full-out war.

I wish you well.

Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist

Ed frowned, ignoring the main part of the letter positively dripping with sarcasm, squinting at the messy small print at the bottom of the page.

P.S. Do your job or I'm telling everyone that you're considering getting a sex change.

Ed's eyes widened, and, temporarily blinded by fury, he growled (rather loudly), "You bastard of a Colonel!"

"...Ed? Is that you?"

Ed started suddenly at the sound of another person's voice, squeaking ungraciously and dropping the letter on his lap.

Hermione popped her head around the door, her wavy brown tresses hanging partially over her face. "Why are you up here so late? It's gone midnight. You should be in bed."

Ed's heart was still thumping ferociously in his chest, and he was too busy mentally beating himself up for not noticing her presence to take in what she was saying. "... Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped into the room, her arms akimbo. "I said, Ed, that you should be in bed right now! It's late!" Hermione's eyes trailed to the slightly crumpled piece of paper in Ed's lap. "A letter?"

Ed nodded carefully, his head filled with thinking up a hundred different excuses to refuse to show it to her if she asked.

She took a small step forward, her arms dropping from her sides in curiosity. "Who's it from?"

"A f-friend." Ed almost choked on the word 'friend' - the one term he thought he would never use to describe the Colonel - and had to consciously restrain himself from throwing up all over the polished stone floor.

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

Ed gave an unconvincing nod.

Hermione reached out for it, and Ed leapt to his feet, skidding towards another wall a few feet too far for Hermione's dangerous grip.

"Er... Ed?" Hermione withdrew her hand from thin air, fixing Ed with a perplexed stare.

Ed scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "It's, uh... kinda private."

"Oh."

The two stood there for a few moments in a strained silence, before Ed decided to change the subject.

"So, um, why are you here exactly?"

Hermione blinked, smiling slightly in bemusement. "The Headmaster told me to patrol the corridors for people wandering around out of hours. Apparently, one of the prefects is sick, so I'm standing in for them."

Ed could almost feel the think aroma of pride wafting from Hermione's direction as she said this. It reminded him annoyingly of Mustang. "Right."

"But the Headmaster gave you permission to wander around after curfew, so I don't see a problem with it." She stood there for another few seconds, deep in thought, before she turned back to face Ed and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then - or, later day, even!" And with that, she trotted out of the door, obligingly shutting it quietly behind her.

As soon as her footsteps were out of Ed's earshot, he slumped noisily to the ground with a sound resembling a groan, a sigh and a sob all mixed in one. "That was too fucking close."

Ed glanced back down at the letter crumpled and creased up in his automail palm. His brow furrowed, and his mouth set itself into an enraged frown. "That bastard."

How was it? Did it live up to your expectations? Was it worth the wait? Please tell me in a review! X3