No warnings this time.

(Number)-stuff will be explained at the end. Always.

Beta-reader: Gift of the Dragons

"Abc!" - spoken words

Abc! - thoughts

Recap Chapter One:

As the Elric brothers still need to find a way to return Al's body back to normal before time runs out, they decide to split up on their quest for information. Following a lead to the Philosopher's Stone and a strange accumulation of energy in the air, Edward Elric arrives at Hogsmeade village. An incident with Lockhart's Cornish Pixies has him get to know three of the local residents who reveal the existence of something they call 'magic' and share local legends about the Shrieking Shack and the Stone's attempted theft from Hogwarts.

Chapter 2.1: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore part one (1) (words: 6460)

It was a couple of hours later, on the very next day, that Albus Dumbledore walked from the Headmaster's tower towards the front gate of Hogwarts. The halls seemed eerily silent with all of the students gone and from this day on even the teachers would have left to visit their families for their much needed summer holidays. He had to wait a moment for the correct staircase to turn in his direction, then walked on downstairs, his shoes' clacking on the stone surface resonating back from the centuries old walls. It had been but a few days ago that the ministry officials had patrolled these halls, resembling to all the world chicken who had lost their heads, at the news of the notorious murderer Sirius Black first captured then escaped. He did not know, personally, where the supposed delinquents had flown to but he had faith in both him and his hippogriff that they knew how to cherish their freedom and would thus take extra precautions against getting caught. And in due time Sirius would inform him.

His steps had led him to the entrance hall and a smile formed on his old, wrinkled face when the first warm rays of sunlight tickled his skin. Whilst there were no students and their noises around, this meant at least that he could hear the birds' singing from the Forbidden Forest that got carried to his ears by the light morning breeze. He stepped entirely out of the castle and made his way down the staircase to meet up with Minerva, whom was the last to leave. They exchanged greetings with short nods, still smiling, and walked alongside each other in comfortable silence and a rather slow pace. Soon, they had crossed the distance to Hagrid's hut, then continued onward to the school gate a little off and only stopped once its shadow was cast upon them.

"It's been a nice year, Albus," said Minerva and broke the silence for the first time. "Nice and a little tense, if I may say so. I can only hope that these monsters will never make their way to our school again. God knows what the ministry thought when they sent them over."

He frowned a little. "You are right, Minerva. But in the end the minister will feel justified in his actions. Sirius Black was near the school and to all the world it must seem as if he was indeed after young Harry's life. It's rather troublesome that nobody would believe in his words just because he is mere thirteen years of age, but I'll be sure to mention the imbalance of having Dementors at Hogwarts during the next meeting with the school council. And of course Mr. Fudge will also be present to hear just what exactly the parents have to say on the matter."

Dumbledore's eyes were shining delightfully at the mere thought of it. Maybe I shouldn't be so happy at the prospect, but he does deserve a wake-up-call concerning acceptable measures in the presence of my charges.

Minerva's concern had morphed into a tiny bit of amusement but it wasn't gone completely. "Let's hope that at least next year will be somewhat calm and without unforeseen surprises. I doubt that we could take another year with fear as our constant companion." She seemed very old all of a sudden. The memory of the opening of the Chamber of Secrets the year before and the just overcome tension summoned by the presence of the Aurors and Dementors showed not only in her slightly – and a little out of character – hunched posture but also in the increased number of wrinkles on her forehead. Bespectacled eyes met Dumbledore's in a silent search for reassurement.

"It seems that, in a way, I can ease your worries about the school being in danger next year. In fact, I have already started making precautions. As nothing is fixed yet though, and as it is supposed to be a surprise, I can't tell you the details right now." He was smiling a little regretfully at her raised eyebrows but his eyes were twinkling merrily at the vision that had been forming inside his head for quite some time. The last schoolyears had held an unusual amount of dread and fear indeed and he had thus begun to plan out how to lift his students' spirits a little. Whilst the Triwizard Tournament had not been held for over a century, he remembered it well from when he was still younger himself. (2) The excitement he'd felt when watching the last tournament, the motivation to improve his skills when he realized that he probably wouldn't have been able to perform a spell used by a current school champion... Yes, this will ease their minds. And if we are careful with our preparations they won't be in any real danger. Not that we'd tell them of course.

"You will inform me as soon as things are fixed, though?" asked his friend.

He smiled reassuringly at her. "Yes, of course, Minerva. Do not worry and have a good time."

Minerva McGonnagall nodded for the last time, said her good-bye and Disapparated from the school grounds, leaving the old wizard standing alone out in the open.

He was just about to turn around and head back inside the school when a tug at a far-off corner of his mind alerted him that one of the wards was being prodded. Frowning, he stood still and focussed on the feeling. The barrier had not been penetrated yet and whoever was prodding did not seem intend on doing so either. It seemed more like the person was examining it: Poking from time to time at different places to see how strong and big the circle was. Whilst it was a relief that there were no ill intentions behind the 'attack', the fact which of of the many barriers of Hogwarts and its surroundings was concerned was worrysome indeed. A lot of people had tried to sneak into the Shrieking Shack in the past, not ever getting inside though, but never once had it been the anti-Muggle-ward that had reacted. Creating it had been a clear show of his own paranoia because 'No Muggles ever got to Hogsmeade,' which basically meant 'Why waste energy on something useless?' Non-magical persons could not access the train platforms or the Floo network, could not call for the Knight Bus and the skill of Apparition required not only the genes of a wizard but also years of training. The mountains were too hard to climb without magic, not to mention the many dangerous animals and booby traps that the wizards had installed there a long time ago; and he could not think of any other ways such a task could be accomplished.

Maybe it's a mistake. A curious fox that explores near the village or a bird flying against it. But I thought I had erased that possibility when summoning the ward...

Dumbledore was beyond confused and still thinking on what to do when the tug at his mind suddenly came to a stop and he silently sighed in relief. He did not get any further than one step downhill, however, as the assailant chose that moment to deliver a sharp blow to the ward. I might not know who it is or what that blow was but I guess I better find it out soon before my barrier gets blown away completely.

A sigh later the spot he had occupied earlier was empty...

...And an other some distance away was filled when the Headmaster appeared in the middle of Hogsmeade mainroad. He had chosen to Apparate to the edge of the village rather than directly next to the Shack so as to not alert the intruder to his presence by his sight. A quick glace around him confirmed that the only thing slightly out of the ordinary was an assembly of villagers near Dogweed & Deathcap apart from which the street was deserted. Maybe they have noticed something? He was in no immediate hurry anymore as he had not felt any more jabs after the violent one and it wasn't that unlikely that one of the residents had noticed the Muggle and taken care of the issue in his place. He plastered the ever present smile on his face and approached the group with long strides, calling out good naturedly.

"What's the commotion about? Did I miss someone's birthday?"

Laughter greeted him back. "No, Professor. But you did indeed miss the most intriguing visitor Hogsmeade has seen for a while!"

He identified the voice as belonging to Miss Smith (No, it's Mrs. Aaron now.) and raised his eyebrows. "A visitor, really? What was so intriguing about him?"

"Ohh, such a lovely young man," joined Mr. Lane, "he helped catch Mr. Lockhart's pixies when they had escaped poor Jimmy here and did the most amazing Transfiguration I've ever seen in my entire life to their cages. Without wand or incantation even..."

"He didn't call it Transfiguration though. It seems they call things differently where he came from."

He didn't need to mask his genuine surprise as he turned to the younger man. "I take it he is a foreigner then, Mr. Aaron?"

"Yes, yes he is. A traveller following stories, that's how he came here. Just walking uphill, transfiguring the landscape as he needed. We asked how he could do something as foolish as that with Sirius Black on the run, but he had never even heard of him! Makes one wonder from just how far away he's come."

Although this is the most interesting gossip I've heard in quite some time, I doubt it's the person I'm looking for. Even though the ignorance towards Sirius Black might point to him being a Muggle, none of them should be able to 'transfigure the landscape'. He cast a quick, calculating glance in the general direction of the shack, then turned back to Mr. Lane.

"You said he did the 'most amazing of Transfigurations' earlier and it's got me really curious. Could you show me – and maybe Minerva at a later date?"

And the most amazing it was. According to the shop's owner and the Aarons he had only placed his hands to the ground, followed by a sudden burst of lightning-like blue energy. Then everything had melted and reshaped in high speed, before it ended as it was. Edward Elric, as he had learned, had transfigured the ground and four cages at the very same time with no apparent effort whatsoever and seemed to still be a teenager as well. Deep in his thoughts, Dumbledore followed Mr. Lane back outside to meet up with the others again. But with great power comes great responsibility. I've already encountered a prodigy some decades ago. And look which path that one chose to follow. I won't do the same mistake twice and underestimate such a supposedly brilliant mind.

"And where is our little genius now? Did he go to visit someone?" The four adults were standing in front of the cottage again.

"No. As Henry said earlier, he is just going after legends. He came here following rumours about the Sorcerer's Stone, though he seemed to know it as Philosopher's Stone, and we told him to go and visit you as you are the best informed on the matter," said Mrs. Aaron and waved her hand in the general direction of the castle.

Dumbledore's face didn't show any kind of reaction, but inside his head he thought that this didn't sound good at all. Searching for immortality... "So I take it he is on his way to the castle right now?"

"No, but he will soon be. He was also interested in local stories so we spoke about the sayings surrounding the Shrieking Shack," she paused slightly. "We didn't mention our suspicion on the ruckus being caused by a werewolf however.(3) It seemed inappropriate and we didn't want to insult him unintentionally."

"Inappropriate? Insult him? Don't tell me he..."

Mr. Lane seemed genuinely down and looked at his bystanders for support. "Well we can't be too sure as we didn't dare to directly ask him. But he had yellow eyes. With the full moon having risen a whole of two weeks ago there was no way to tell by ourselves."

"More like golden actually..."

"Don't be ridiculous, dear, there is no such thing as golden eyes!"

"But you saw them too, didn't you? They had this shine to them... And remember when we were in the backyard at the cages? When the sun was setting, his hair seemed to glow golden too and I was sure I was seeing an angel!"

"There is no such thing as angels either!"

"So..." Dumbledore had to interrupt before the conversation went further away from the initial topic of concern, "did he behave even the slightest bit wolfish?"

"He had that predatory gleam in his eyes when fetching the pixies that annoyed him out of the air but I'd personally call that understandable. Other than that, the most fitting description would be insanely curious and knowledge-seeking."

"'Plucked them out of the air'?" he asked, surprised. "Why didn't he just freeze them?"

Dumbledore had expected another quick witted answer as explanation. A different spell maybe or that his wand had been taken away by a pixie. He was, however, met with stunned silence.

"I wouldn't know, Professor. I was inside helping Jimmy and taking care of the pixies that messed up my shop. The situation had already been cleared when I came outside again."

"I don't know either," joined Lucy. "...Now that I think about it... I've never seen him taking out his wand at all. He transfigured his mantle into a bag and stuffed all the troublemakers in his vicinity inside. It worked just as well so I didn't even think about it twice. Why do you ask?"

"Mr. Elric seems to be quite an interesting person indeed. So interesting, in fact, that I think I'll have a word with him. Where did you say I could find him?"

"The Shack," supplied Mr. Lane instantly. "He was intrigued by the mystery of it and wanted to take a closer look. He left just a couple of minutes before you arrived. We had assembled here to say good-bye to him and wish him luck."

"I'll be on my way then. Thank you for your time." All three residents were quick to assure him that it was nothing and that he was very welcome, but Albus Dumbledore only listened with half an ear, smiling out of habit.

He was too focussed on the enigma that had presented itself. From what he had been able to gather so far, a teenager had made his way to Hogsmeade. It was probable that he was a very skilled wizard but the complete lack of wand and Apparition had him wonder. Edward Elric might also be a werewolf and, judging by his enquiry about the Sorcerer's Stone, seeking either power or immortality or both, which highly reminded him of young Tom Riddle. And last but not least there was the prodding on the anti-Muggle-barrier surrounding the Shrieking Shack. The building that he had confirmedly wanted to explore. But neither wizard nor werewolf would have triggered this particular barrier! I have installed others that would have warned me of either genetic code approaching and nothing happened. So what exactly is he?

Approaching the barrier Dumbledore left his thoughts to themselves and paid increased attention to his surroundings. From his current point of view he could see nothing out of the ordinary. The Shack stood old, tall and shabby, a good 200 metres away from him. Nothing had changed and nobody except him was present. At least I can't see anyone from mypresentlocation.

He made sure to stay outside of the wards' radius whilst circling the building because it was highly unlikely that anyone had passed through without shattering them completely. Wide eyed and with raised eyebrows he came to a stop on the other side. Nobody was here. And the traveller had not taken the direction of Hogwarts either. He would have had to pass through the entire village to do so which meant passing by the spot where he'd had the conversation with Mr. Lane and Mr. and Mrs. Aaron.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, concentrating on anything that he might have missed because there was no way that someone who had never heard of Apparition before just vanished into thin air.

"...transfiguring the landscape as he needed..." is what they had said. Following a spontaneous impulse he looked on the ground surrounding the shack and searched for anything that might indicate a Transfiguration. A circular patch of earth around ten meters to his left was completely barren. It didn't stand out too much, as it was only one meter in size and fit in with the rest around it because the grass was still short and scarce after the long winter.

Every ward has got a circular structure that starts at its zenith and drops down in a spherical shape until it reaches the earth. The created half globe thus does not continue underground.

Dumbledore had never given this aspect of magical theory much thought before now. As far as he knew nobody had ever digged a whole just to overcome a barrier. Transfiguration of or the moving around of earth usually required more strength than what was needed to shatter the wall. So why take the complicated way that's considered a waste of energy when you could spend a lot less time and effort by simple force? Because the constructor of the ward would never know you passed through when you decide to take on the challenge, that's why. Whoever you are, Mr. Elric, whether you did it knowingly or unknowingly, you just managed to outsmart the one wizard that's supposed to be the most powerful of the present time.

One moment, the wind carried about the sound of a soft chuckle, the next the lone figure formerly standing near the abandoned shack had vanished from sight yet again.

I needn't have hurried so much, decided a comfortably seated Albus Dumbledore a few minutes later. Upon materializing at the Hogwarts front gates, he had walked towards the Whomping Willow as fast as he could. He found it standing old and tall as ever, the only movement coming from the few leaves that were shaken softly by the breeze. With nothing better to do, the wizard had decided to sit down a safe distance away on a stone that offered a splendid view of the violent tree and its hidden entrance. Contrary to his former estimation that had him had hurrying in the first place, it was a total of ten minutes later before any sign of additional movement could be made out.

The first thing to be seen was a golden head poking out of the hole. It turned around to the left and the right in a rather rapid succession that made its long ponytail swing accordingly. After a short nod to themselves, the figure then climbed out onto the surface and bent back in again to struggle with a rather large trunk that didn't want to fit as easily through the gap as the slim form of the person itself. Mission accomplished, the teenager stood to his full height and stretched his arms as far above his head as possible, inclining it towards the warm sunrays that he had probably missed when wandering around underground. He had just grabbed his trunk again and started to walk towards a nearby path leading to the castle when the tree above him sprung to life.

With no little amusement did Dumbledore listen to the surprised yelp the figure made before letting go off his luggage and leaping to the side, avoiding the incoming willow branch by mere millimeters. The show continued with a series of backflips, twists and duckings that were combined in what could have been a dance had it been a different occasion. All too soon did the foreigner deem that all things fun had to come to an end and jumped gracefully onto an approaching knob. He stayed there in a crouching position for half a swing and jumped off with the momentum on his side to safely reach a region outside of the crazy trees attack rangeand a mere three meters away from Dumbledore's resting spot. The youth was breathing a little heavily, but was not as out of breath as the Headmaster would have guessed after such a workout. He had not received a single scratch from the infamous tree either.

"That was quite an impressing show you did there," he commented lazily, watching his reaction over the brim of his half moon glasses. He did not have to wait long for the boy in front of him suddenly whirled around and immediately went into a defensive stance. Golden eyes that had narrowed to slits focussed on the old wizard, taking in every detail they could. Surprisingly enough, he did not draw a wand this time either.

After a minute of tense silence, the boy must have come to the conclusion that an old man sitting comfortably on a stone was not posing any immediate threat to his life and relaxed his posture slowly. He let out a shaky sigh, carded the fingers of his left hand through his bangs and mumbled something that Dumbledore could not be sure to have caught correctly due to his old age, but sounded suspiciously like 'scared the shit out of me, the old man'. He then suddenly lost all interest in Dumbledore whatsoever, looked around his feet, then back towards the once again motionless willow and dropped his shoulders in defeat.

Even though he had thus turned his back to him, the next sentence was spoken in so much annoyance that it was loud enough to be heard anyway. "Who the hell got the crazy idea to plant rampaging, violent trees that randomly attack passer-bys at the end of a tunnel?"

The grumbling ceased and Dumbledore thought he caught the sound of a soft clapping noise that was followed by the boy kneeling down. The ground started to emit an electric blue light that made its way towards the willows trunk and assembled in lightning like cackling around the formerly discarded luggage. The Headmaster stood and walked a couple of steps closer to the young man still in crouching position to get a better view of what was going on. This is what the villagers described happened to the pixies' cages, he mused and stared wide eyed at the small pile of earth that had risen beneath the trunk and was now moving it from his position near the hidden entrance towards the teen. Once outside of the blowing range of the Whomping Willow, the ground smoothed out again and Edward Elric straightened to go and pick it up. Throwing one last, distasteful glance back at the tree he turned around with his trunk in hand and focussed anew on the wizard.

At first, neither said anything. Both stood three meters apart from each other, assessing the situation carefully. Then...

"Hi."

Though Edward may have spoken first, his whole posture seemed to say 'Hey, don't think anything wrong here, I only started because I was bored out of my mind!' Dumbledore merely increased the twinkle in his eyes.

"Hello and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mr. Elric, I presume?"

Golden eyes blinked before they narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know?"

"I just returned from a quick visit to Hogsmeade," replied the ever smiling man, "after I felt the wards around the Shack being prodded. I heard the most intriguing stories on my way about one young Edward Elric and his help concerning Cornish Pixies. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, by the way, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Elric looked at him incredulously. "So you are the one who put up the barrier around that building? Don't tell me you were the one to plant a seemingly harmless tree that's definitely not behaving as innocent as it looks as well!"

"Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Elric."

"I'd say!" fumed the teen. "But if things are like that and you are indeed the Headmaster, then you surely know about the rumoured monster that hunted the shack two decades ago. Even though it seems to have been recently inhabited, the old signs of destruction were still clearly visible. Now why would you, a Headmaster of a school, tolerate such a potential danger at such proximity to your students?"

Dumbledore paused a moment, thinking. He referred to 'it' as a monster. So either he doesn't know it's a werewolf's doing, or he thinks of them as such. But if that's so, then how do his eyes fit the equation? A metamorphogus maybe? But first the werewolf-theory.

"How else would he have been able to release his energy each moon?" He tried to sound soft and soothing to reduce the suspicion and hostility in his new acquaintance.

"...'He?' He?You're saying that as if this was concerning your pet dog. The claw-like patterns on the furniture looked more severe than that." Edward Elric looked genuinely bewildered at the sheer disconcern shown by the elder.

"Oh no, 'pet dog' – that would be Hagrid's way. Young Remus Lupin merely wanted to be properly taught how to use magic – and who am I torefuse a child the possibility to learn or to discriminate against minorities?"

"So there really wasn't anybody who got hurt by...'him'?"

"No, never."

That calmed him down considerably ("That's … good then, I suppose.") but he still remained apprehensive.

The main question is still unanswered though.

"Can't you understand it?" He tried again.

"What?"

"Mr. Lupin's problem?"

"I don't know him or his problem so you will have to be a little bit more specific about your question. I don't even know why you would address an animal – which is the only known being to me that possesses such claws – by the title of Mister."

"I'm talking about the moon, Mr. Elric."

A pair of delicate and indeed golden eyebrows rose to disappear behind the long bangs.

"You mentioned that one earlier. What about it?"

Surely he couldn't be that dense?

"When was the last time you were able to consciously admire the beauty of a full moon?" He was infuriating Mr. Elric, he knew, but the explanations could come later. For now, Dumbledore wanted to see just how much knowledge the young man really had – or how much lack of it.

"Just too weeks ago if I remember correctly. I fail to see the connection, however."

"That's very interesting. Intriguing even," he paused, thinking. "Then nothing out of the ordinary happened back then or anytime before? No? What's the colour of your eyes?"

"You are standing right in front of me so you tell me." The eyes had narrowed down at the same degree that his temper started to flare in annoyance. His voice had gone down a couple of notches as well and gotten a slightly threatening ring to it.

"They are yellow."

"I usually get 'golden' but I guess yellow will do. Thank you, Mister Obvious, really! Now what's this all about?"

"Oh I'll come to that in a moment, don't worry. I've got one last question though: Since when have they been this colour?"

"Since I was born, obviously. Duh. Got it from my dad, same as my brother. As far as I can tell it's in our blood so our children will bear blond hair and golden eyes as well. Now: What about it?"

He would clearly not take another stalling as an option. Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder briefly what exactly would happen if he ever lost his patience but decided that he could always find out later. For now, he had answers to give.

"You see...," he started, "in this country the ownership of yellow eyes is highly stigmatised as the genetic eye colours are limited to green, blue and brown in varying shades and mixes."

"If yellow is a non-genetic colour in this country, how can it be stigmatised? It should be non-existent."

"People get infected with something that most would call a disease. An incurable one in fact." He knew his voice had gotten a rather sad undertone because really, werewolves were hardly ever the ones to blame for their problems. And with potion research as far as it was now there wasn't much to fear anymore either. But Professor Lupin had had to leave the school anyways, as people nowadays had only faith in their own beliefs, regardless of what was the truth. He wouldn't only have to fix everything concerning the Triwizard Tournament but also find a suitable replacement for the position of the Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor.

By now the blond had finished his brooding. "You are saying that there is a disease that not only changes the eye colour of a person but makes them react to the moon in a violent manner as well? And that this is what happened to the Lupin person you were talking about earlier?"

The switch from annoyed-Elric to thinking-Elric was so sudden and unexpected that Dumbledore faltered a moment in his response. The golden eyes were practically piercing through him in an attempt to get to the answer before it was even said out aloud. During the first part of the conversation he had thought Mr. Elric was actually rather slow on the uptake because he didn't get any of his hints concerning werewolves, but if he really didn't know about them he just might have judged too quickly. These eyes, he decided, tell a completely different story at least.

"Yes, that's what I was talking about earlier." He was still reluctant to give more information than absolutely necessary. If the teen was as sharp as he looked, and as Mr. Lane and the Aarons had implied, even the slightest bit of data would be saved away for later use. And who knew what kind of use he would make of it when he was searching for immortality?

"What kind of 'disease' are we talking about exactly?"

"A human's blood gets infected by some sort of virus when they are bitten by a werewolf. The virus reacts to the rays of the full moon and catalyses a transformation that lasts as long as the person is under the direct influence of the light. There has been a lot of medical research on the matter but no complete cure has been created as of now. The furthest the healers have come is the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion that permits the werewolf to keep their mind for the time of the transformation."

"Sounds like they should work harder."

"They do their best," he assured.

Mr. Elric rose his eyebrows a litte and answered in a deadpan voice. "Well, I'm certainly not a werewolf. Or any other wolf for that matter."

"I realized. You are not a wizard either." And thus no metamorphogus.

"Yeah, that's correct. Until yesterday I was completely convinced that supernatural things such as 'magic' are nothing but old stories from fairytales made for children to create a safe place for their thoughts to wander off whenever they want to escape reality."

"That's a hard way to think about life."

"There is no such thing as 'soft' or 'easy' whenever life is concerned."

Albeit being a mere teenager, the boy in front of him definitely knew what he was talking about. He hadn't hesitated for even a second before answering and, as sad as this sounded to his old ears, there wasn't even an ounce of uncertainty about this matter in his voice.

"Do you know what is the commonly expected behaviour of a wizard that encounters a Muggle who has gained knowledge about magic?"

"What's a Muggle?"

"A non-magical person such as you."

For the first time during their not-so-small-talk, Edward Elric smirked. "Well, they obviously start a nice chit-chat-conversation on nice Saturday mornings, standing in nice, warm sunlight in a light breeze, explaining everything rather nice and patiently. At least when they don't ask nonsensical questions about the moon and eye colours. They could, however, consider to include nice, comfortable armchairs in the package as well, now that I think about it."

His own smile widened a bit in response. "It would seem like that, wouldn't it? But no. Usually we erase their memories."

That got his attention. "Completely?" came the incredulous, wide-eyed reply.

"No, just the amount of time that's needed to. At least if the wizard has time to properly concentrate on their task."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you but I did not come all the way up here just to have my memory swiped." He held his head high, stance a little widened, and looked at him defiantly.

"I thought you did not."

"Then what will you do?" The suspicion hadn't disappeared.

"I think I will consider what you said about the armchairs. Would you like to accompany me inside, Mr. Elric? I'm sure we'll find a lot more to talk about."

A slight smirk returned. "Sounds good to me, Professor." His eyes, however, were still carefully watching his every movement, assessing whether the century old appearance in front of him was really as harmless as he seemed at first sight.

With the conversation ended, Dumbledore swiftly turned around to walk uphill and only set to a slower pace once they reached the castle, adjusting in advance to the expected awe that caught all of the first years upon setting their eyes on the interior. They had not shared a single word since their ascent started but both kept glancing at each other from the corners of their eyes whenever they thought the other wasn't looking.

Wonder, what he thinks of me. To most Muggles I appear as nothing but an old man with a long beard and a strange choice of clothing. But he's been in the village already and he is more cautious than most...

The teen was carrying his trunk in his right hand and had his posture straightened as if the weight of his luggage wasn't pulling him down in the least. He had raised a blond eyebrow at the sheer size of the castle, then given a miniature shrug and proceeded on as if it wasn't anything to be concerned about.

Then again, it truly isn't.

Once properly inside, his cool outward attitude started to crumble. His left hand rose and pointed accusingly at the torches on the wall.

"As much as I appreciate your taste in armoury... aren't you going a little too overboard with the torches? A school isn't supposed to give off such creepy vibes!"

Dumbledores eyes twinkled in mischief. "'Creepy vibes'? Do they scare you? There is nothing inside here that is dangerous (at least not after the Basilisk got killed...), but I assure you that we even have proper ghosts hunting the castlehalls to match the theme!"

"Are you..." started Mr. Elric, but kept from actually voicing the 'insane' that would have obviously been the final part of the sentence. Instead he dropped his arm back to his side, threw a last murderous glance at the offending torches and swiftly crossed the distance to the Headmaster who then resumed walking. It was highly amusing from Dumbledore's point of view how the defiant young man from the willow was glancing around unconsciously as if expecting to get attacked every moment. He had set high hopes in his moving paintings after the reaction to the few, innocent, not-really-that-magical torches, but got disappointed when they were mostly sleeping in (Probably enjoying the rare silence...) and the few that weren't didn't do so much as curiously glance their way. The only entertainment that thus came out of it was to watch Elric inch away from the insanity on the walls trying desperately to not lose his composure. He was utterly disappointed when the moving staircases weren't even worth a mention.

The continued their walk until they met the entrance to the Headmaster's tower and even before Dumbledore could say the password he heard a good natured whistle that made him broaden his smile yet again. Not the standard reaction to a gargoyle either. He wasn't kidding when he said he appreciates the armours.

Whilst the castle generally kept moving about, changing the level of the gargoyle as it went, the tower itself as well as the office always remained stationary. For the last couple of months the entrance had been on the second floor, so they now had to stand on the moving staircase inside the tower for five floors before they reached the circular room that was their destination. Dumbledore manoeuvred around the countless objects that made up his leisure activities and came to a rest behind his big, claw legged desk. Without much ado he sat down properly, swished the papers on top into neat stacks on the side and transfigured a nearby plain stool into a comfortable armchair.

His eyes searched for his guest and found him not inspecting his instruments and neither mesmerized by his beautiful familiar Fawkes, but totally consumed with the books on the shelf on his left side. Curious choice but a dangerous one nevertheless. An unknown Muggle shouldn't be so close to my Pensieve.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Elric," he said cheerfully. "While as a Headmaster I usually encourage all kinds of reading, I was under the impression that we wanted to talk comfortably."

The blond head jerked violently to the side, ponytail swinging yet again and eyes wide with surprise. He blinked once then smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, Professor. People tell me I tend to get engrossed in books too much all the time. Please don't call me Mr. Elric though, I'd prefer Edward or, even better, just Ed."

Author's notes:

So, this is the first part. The second comes in the next update.

The split was necessary because Ed would seem even more ooc if I continued on with Dumbledore's pov. And you got the update early! ;)

(Number)-time:

(1) Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Just because I love how long his name is. 35 letters is freaking awesome!

(2) Triwizard Tournament at Dumbles' time

This could or could not be true. It's written that the last one was held over a century ago and Dumbles is older than that as well so the possibility is there – but it's not confirmed. That's about all the backup that I can offer... I'm just clarifying this here so that nobody will automatically take it as J.K.R.-canon.

(3) Ed as a 'werewolf'

The eye-link comes from the fact that a lot of real wolves have got, among other common colours, yellow eyes. In mythology, this is often taken as a marker for werewolves then, too. As for humans, they have got a lot of different common eye colours too, yellow not being among them. But Ed has. (Well, his eye colour would be 'golden' in this case, but that's just a fancy way of saying 'yellow' anyways.)

Now all of this has never been specifically brought up in the HP world. However, after Bill got bitten by Greyback at the end of book 6, Lupin muses that he will end up with a couple of wolfish characteristics, even though it wasn't a full moon. It is never made quite clear just what those could be and what not. In my opinion, a change of eye-colour as part of a (partial-) poisoning doesn't seem that far fetched. A wizard who thinks the only natural eye colours to be green, blue, brown, grey and a couple of mixtures in-between, would then likely come to the conclusion that the person in front of them is a werewolf if they had yellow / golden eyes.

Thanks again for reading and please consider to review.

See you, hopefully, in the next chapter:

Chapter 2.2: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore part two