No additional warnings.
Beta-reader: Gift of the Dragons
"Abc!" - spoken words
Abc! - thoughts
Recap Chapters 1-3:
The Elric brothers still needed to find a way to return Al's body back to normal before time ran out and decided to split up on their quest for information. Following a lead to the Philosopher's Stone, Edward arrived at Hogsmeade. After a brief introduction on magic, he explored the Shrieking Shack and found an underground tunnel bypassing the wards of Hogwarts. There, Edward passed Dumbledore's 'trial', as neither he nor the Bloody Baron were able to detect any suspicious behaviour from the teen.
Chapter 4: Flamel's Legacy (words: 9727)
Edward checked the contents of his trunk for the last time to make sure he had not forgotten anything and shut it closed with an audible click. He picked it up from its resting position on the bed and turned around to face the small creature that he had grown accustomed to over the past week. And even though it had been quite some time that he'd known the house-elf, Ed was still startled every time his eyes landed upon his new friend's appearance.
The rag hasn't changed a single time during these seven days, thought the alchemist wonderingly, nor had it been washed. He felt his forehead twist into a frown as he remembered the book on house-elves from the section on Magical Creatures in the library. Underlings, it had said. Born to serve the so called superior race of the wizards, bound to their commands with no option of refusal, the old, often torn clothing a symbol of their lower status. But even though the book's content had sounded like a history of oppression, abuse and mistreatment, Bane didn't share the sentiment at all. The elf had looked at him as if he had just thrown the biggest insult he knew at him, when he had asked if he wanted to be freed. He was content to be serving Dumbledore – and even more so, he was proud to be working at Hogwarts.
"Bane and the others have always been serving the wizards, Mister Elric, sir," the squeaky voice had reasoned. "And most wizards treat us well, especially Master Dumbledore. If Bane was free, what would he do? Where would he go? What would he eat? And most importantly: who would cook the students' meals? Bane can't just go and abandon what is his duty and responsibility, Mister Elric. He would feel very ashamed if he ever had to leave."
Ed hadn't dared to ask what would happen if a wizard didn't treat them well, as he hadn't wanted to further insult his guide. But even so, his eyes narrowed. Bound to their commands, the book had said, a connection stronger than the most powerful of spells. A bond for a lifetime...
"Is Mister Elric ready to leave?"
The addressed smiled down at the elf, nodded and started walking towards the door. Once there, Ed turned around one last time to glance at the room that he was unlikely to ever see again. It looked nearly exactly as it had when he had first set his foot inside. Only two details diverted from its initial state: the bedsheets were a little wrinkled from his trunk and the painting on the opposite wall had been covered with a towel. 'Sir Norbert Wrinkle', the elf had called the old and corpulent man, when he had still been shouting indignantly at him. He couldn't remember a time when a picture inside a room had given him as much discomfort as this man's painting had. And not only this one. He had suspected to be loosing it at the beginning because pictures. Don't. Move. But when Dumbledore had greeted some of them on their very first walk to the Great Hall and had actually received answers... even then it had only been the beginning.
I'm sure they have been stalking me, thought Ed angrily. 'See how far I can trust you,' the old man said!
But at least Dumbledore seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion, for he had announced this morning that they would be leaving soon.
Edward blinked. Right.
Without further ado, the blonde left the painting-covering-towel where it was and joined Bane in the hallway. They walked slowly through the many corridors until they reached the tower with the moving staircases and waited for the right one to turn in their direction.
"Bane," he addressed the elf next to him, "the ghost that was in the library with me..."
"The Baron?" blinking eyes asked for confirmation.
Baron? "I … don't actually know. I guess we never really introduced ourselves."
"It was mostly the Baron that was with you. The one carrying the chains?"
"Yeah, that's him." Or at least I think it is. It would finally explain the clinking noises I heard the whole time. I wonder, though, why he would be carrying them. "I was thinking if you could say good-bye to him for me. I'll be leaving with the Headmaster and I doubt I'll see him again." Not that I ever actually saw anything to begin with, but in the end, it's the thought that counts.
The house-elf smiled in understanding just when the staircase finally moved their way. "Of course, Mr. Elric. Bane will do so the very next time he sees him!"
Together they made their way to the second level of the school and right into the next set of hallways.
"Can you tell me anything about him?" asked Ed after a while. "We only had a very short conversation so I can't help but wonder what he's like." Because whatever additional information he could get about him might help him to further understand and evaluate the truth behind his stories.
"The Baron is respected by everyone in the castle. Bane knows that this might not sound like much, but it actually is. Peeves for example, he doesn't care about anyone." (At this, Edward could detect a slight narrowing of the elf's eyes for the very first time since meeting him.) "He will come to the kitchens from time to time and prank us so that we have a lot more work to do. Bane has also heard stories. A couple of decades ago, when the currently oldest of the Hogwarts' house-elves, Pac, was still younger, Peeves would steal kitchen and cleaning utensils, which Pac then had to search the hallways for and recollect.
"He was still new to the castle at this time and quite afraid of the ghosts, so whenever Sir Blinky, Sir Clyde or any of the other ghosts (1) appeared, he would hide away. Bane thinks this must have been really stressful. Peeves never listened to any of the headmasters and the Baron is the only one he pays attention to. It was and is only because of him that we can properly do our work without too many interruptions," Bane ended euphorically, smiling brightly. After a short moment, he shyly added: "We still have a high respect for him, though," which Ed promptly translated to "We are quite afraid of him, too."
He nodded in understanding and realized with a start that they had already arrived at their final destination. Big, dark and cold as ever, the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office stood before them, then started to move to the side once Bane voiced the password.
"It's always Lemondrops during the summer holidays," he answered the unspoken question that was hanging in the air.
"So... this is it?" Ed couldn't help but feel a little down about possibly never meeting the calm and reserved house-elf again. But he needed to get going.
"Thank you for being our guest, Mr. Elric. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Pleasure meeting you as well, Bane," he answered and barely resisted the urge to pat the smaller one's head. Just because he was taller than him didn't obviously mean the other was still a child. With a wave of good-bye and the advise to take care, the blond walked the last few steps towards the staircase and waited impatiently until it had elevated him to the top. A knock and a step through the door later, he was once again in the circular office of the Headmaster.
"Mister Elric," came the voice from the other side of the huge desk, "you are here. And right on time, too!" Dumbledore's blue eyes shone in competition with his azure robe as he stood up to round the table and greet his guest. Instead of holding out his hand to shake, though, he presented Edward with a terribly used quill.
I'm not supposed to write something with that, am I? He couldn't help but wonder because, really, he highly doubted it would be able to even write a single letter, let alone a complete sentence.
"This, Mr. Elric, is a Portkey," explained the old wizard.
No, it's not. A portkey is a special screwdriver that Winry uses to open the plates near my automail ports. This is a quill that would feel perfectly comfortable inside a trashcan. However, there had been quite the few instances where the use of vocabulary had been different so he decided to amuse Dumbledore and thus rose a questioning eyebrow.
"I have managed to get in contact with the one in charge of the Flamel cottage and she agreed to meet up with you. We will use this to get there."
"And a broken quill is to help us...how exactly?"
"Not any quill, Mister Elric, a Portkey," laughed the man. They had gotten more and more comfortable with each other during the last week, but a certain residue of caution still hadn't faded away completely. "For wizards, Portkeys are just another means of transportation, like Floo, brooms or Apparition. They can come in the guise of any daily object, a cup, a pair of glasses, a can, a shoe, … or a quill like this." He continued on after a short pause when it was obvious that he had still not been understood. "Nicolas and his wife had decided to spend their later years by having a rather quiet life in Devon, England. I'm sure you must have seen a map of the United Kingdom when travelling, so you will know that we are now quite far away from there. It would take at least one day to go by train and without any innate magical energy, you can't ride a broom."
Right. "And I obviously can't use Apparition either. Now why will this quill help?" He still refused to call it Portkey.
"Oh, under normal circumstances I could use Side-Along-Apparition to take you with me, but this just isn't possible inside Hogwarts. Apart from that, Portkeys tend to leave the user a little less ... ruffled than Apparition does."
A little less ruffled? Just what is he talking about? And with a sense of dread, Ed realized that he might have just read the wrong books in the library. There must have been one on transportation methods, too, but he never got the idea to check them out.
Before he could ask any other question, though, Dumbledore took out a strange looking watch from the insides of his robes. Instead of showing the twelve numbers like any other pocket watch known to Edward would, this one seemed to have an assortment of balls or planets that travelled the circle. After having thrown nothing but a mere glance at it he held out the quill again and urged Ed to hold onto it. Startled and still very much confused, the alchemist complied and tentatively grabbed onto it with his left hand, the right still carrying his luggage.
Nodding in satisfaction, Dumbledore checked his watch again and silently counted down from three to zero.
As soon as he reached the last number, Ed felt a sharp tug somewhere behind his navel. He held unto his trunk harder as he was yanked forcefully forward at high-speed, wind howling in his ears and tugging at his hairs. The whole ordeal didn't last longer than a couple of seconds and he soon found himself landing on his own two feet. With nearly morbid satisfaction, he realized that he could finally remove his fingers from the Quill of Doom, as he had dubbed the writing utensil sometime during their 'travel'.
And 'Portkeys tend to leave their users a little less ruffled than Apparition does'? Ed thought incredulously. He's pulling my leg, isn't he? Because neither the Aarons nor Mr. Lane had looked even close to as ruffled as he felt right now. Not that Dumbledore was looking like that, either. He scowled.
"You seem to have a very good sense of balance, Mr. Elric," the Headmaster smiled. "There aren't many who are still standing on their feet after their first travel experience with a Portkey."
"Practice makes perfect," he snorted and tried to get his appearance at least a little bit decent again, starting with his clothes and then going for his dishevelled ponytail.
"I thought this was the first time you travelled this way?"
"It was." But it wasn't that much different from Teacher grabbing the front of my shirt and hurling me across her backyard. If I had never learned how to land on my feet... better not muse about it too much.
With that, Ed finished retying his hair and took a good look at his surroundings for the first time. A look that, at first, showed nothing but water in front of him and the huge stone that was protruding from it and on which he stood together with the Headmaster. The breaking waves swashed water on its dark surface in a rhythm only known to them. Most of it immediately flowed right back to the disturbed sea, but some collected into small puddles instead, giving the stone a wetly shimmering surface.
"Where are we?" he asked, grabbed his trunk tighter and turned around to face Dumbledore and the massive rocks of the steep coast behind him.
"At the west coast of Lundy Island,"(2) he answered. "The wards surrounding the Flamel cottage are too powerful for me to create a Portkey that would bring us directly inside, and even though the total population should be around twenty or thirty inhabitants, it's always better to be safe than sorry and remain unseen." He smiled. "I'm sure Eve will arrive shortly to invite you in."
"Didn't you say we were going to Devon earlier?" Ed asked as he recalled the conversation they had had before the quill had activated. He didn't quite like the idea of being near so much deep water. It had practically freaked him out when he had realized he had to cross the English Channel to travel from France to England by taking a ferry.
One decade ago, he would have been absolutely thrilled by the perspective of actually seeing the ocean with his own eyes instead of having to be content with just the pictures from encyclopaedias.
One decade ago, he would have enjoyed the view to the fullest, admired the sun rays' reflections on the water surface and the wind blowing gently through his hair.
One decade ago, he might have even had fun with the rising and the falling movements of the ferry whenever it breached the crests of the waves.
One decade ago, he could still swim, after all.
One decade ago, his brother would have experienced it with him.
But right now he couldn't swim – and if any of the salt in the air was to damage Winry's automail, this would loose importance quite rapidly for she just might decide that this was one time too many that it happened. He shivered in remembrance and hoped that the works on the Eurotunnel would be completed before he crossed the Channel again on his way back.
Trains were just so much more comfortable to travel in.
"Yes, I did. Lundy is a part of Devon," interrupted the old wizard Ed's thoughts with his explanation. Adorning the voice of a grandfather patiently telling his grandson a story, he continued: "In earlier centuries, this island was used by pirates and smugglers to hide away from the English fleet. They weren't all that successful, obviously, as the age of the pirates soon came to an end, but the stories remained and kept the place alive. Well, the nature certainly helped as well." His smile widened as if he was just sharing an inside joke with a dear old friend. "Nicolas and Perenelle both had a thing for interesting places, mostly in cities that had a history reaching long ago, but around fifteen years ago, they decided to choose this rather quiet and remote village instead."
"Why the change? Twenty inhabitants seems extremely few compared to the ten thousands of the cities."
Dumbledore sighed. "It was the time when Voldemort rose to power, Mister Elric. And as you correctly pointed out a couple of days ago, the stone's security was of the utmost importance. There were but a handful of people who knew about this house's location, myself being one of them. But with Voldemort gone, the security lessened, the public gained knowledge of the island and so I advised Nicolas to hide the stone in the wizards' bank, Gringotts. I realized it wasn't safe enough there, though, so I had it be brought to the school eventually, and just on time too."
Where it wasn't safe enough either, obviously. Ed scowled.
"So, what about this Eve that is supposed to come and pick us up. Is she a descendant of your old friend and moved here with them?"
"No no, she isn't," chuckled Dumbledore, "Nicolas and Perenelle were never blessed with children, even though they wanted them."
"Blessed?" Ed couldn't help but ask. "Why would it have been a blessing for them to have children?" Surely a man as old as the one he was talking to would know better than that.
"Of course. Maybe you don't understand, as you seem to not have any of your own, yet, but children are indeed the most wonderful beings in the world. What else could it be, but a blessing, to create life?"
Or he wouldn't.
Edward sighed and looked solemnly at the man in front of him. "My age does not matter in this case, Mr. Dumbledore, for the people we are talking about are two near-immortals. Given the case that they had actually succeeded in getting children: would they have watched them age and die whilst never aging themselves? Or would they have felt too saddened and shared the Stone's powers? And if so, would they have done the same with their grandchildren? And their children? Would it have ended? When? By whom's hand?" Ed paused a moment and listened to the swashing of the waves as he gave Dumbledore time to mull over the scenario. "Is it this that you would call a blessing...?" he added in a softer voice.
The distressed pair of blue eyes was answer enough.
They stood there for another minute, silently caught in their own thoughts, before a low pop could be heard above the background noises of the coast.
Curious, Edward turned his head to where he could see another rock protruding from the waters below. And just like theirs, someone was now standing on top of it.
"Good morning, Mister Dumbledore," greeted the newcomer and bowed slightly in Dumbledore's direction. "Eve hopes you didn't have to wait too long." She stood small, bony and bare-footed and, with her big eyes and the long ears, Eve was without any doubt a house-elf just like Bane. Maybe not 'just like' him, Ed wondered as his sight landed on the child-sized, white, flower-patterned dress that was gently blowing in the ocean's breeze. It had no stains whatsoever and seemed to be really well cared for.
Turning around, Dumbledore met her eyes as well, smiling widely. "Good morning, my dear Eve. We didn't have to wait too long at all, don't worry," he said and added after a short silence: "May I introduce you? This is the man I told you about, Mister Edward Elric," he pointed at him, "and this, Mr. Elric, is Eve. She was serving Nicolas and Perenelle for many years and, although she was freed by their deaths, made it her task to watch over their old belongings, just like my old friend and his wife had wanted. Whatever it is you wish to see, you have to ask her." And he smiled, like always, but Ed would have sworn that it had gained a wicked touch.
So I have to convince her, even though they are long-time friends and she obviously trusts him more? So much for 'I am now interested in these notes too.' Pah! In the very least, he could have warned me. But he had to think. Hard. And fast, obviously, for Eve was already regarding him with a very expectant face.
"So... I take it that Mr. Dumbledore told you that I am an alchemist?"
It had seemed like just as good a start as any, but her eyes narrowed nearly imperceptibly. "Yes, he told Eve. He didn't tell much else, though. Just that you are a foreigner."
So I have free reign over how much to reveal. Flamel hid the notes on the stone very well so even if she knows, she probably won't give them to me. This means my request needs to relate in a way that only I know. It also needs to be something believable.
Ed frowned.
And he got an idea.
Would smiling as innocently as possible help? Probably.
(He deliberately disregarded the tiny part of his mind that tried to mention that he was behaving just a little bit manipulatively. Like a certain bastard.)
"You see, I'm currently doing research on a country that vanished long ago." Half-truths have always worked best. "Up until now, I, and everyone else in my homeland, had thought that there had only been two people that survived its downfall. These two, who we call the two Philosophers, showed the art of alchemy to my homeland and a distant neighbouring country respectively. But even though they originally came from the same land, their arts were different in both, style and execution."
At this, Edward paused a moment to recollect his thoughts. From the corners of his eyes he noticed that Dumbledore was staring at him in rather wide-eyed surprise over the brim of his glasses. He couldn't look through them because the spindrift of the breaking waves had collected on the lenses, but as far as Ed could tell, the wizard hadn't even noticed. He apparently hadn't thought that Ed would come up with such a story and, much to the blond's delight, didn't seem to know anything about Xerxes either. Eve was still listening intently, curiosity making her eyes shine in childlike excitement.
Good.
"As far as I understand," he continued, "Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist too, lived for more than six centuries," if the books in the library are to be trusted, that is, "and loved to travel to interesting places. Now, the country's downfall happened only around four centuries ago, so it might just be that he was one out of merely three persons with an alchemical background who had come into contact with the event and lived to tell about it. If I think about just the differences between our two known styles of art, Mr. Flamel's travelogues could bring us a huge leap further." If he wrote any. He took a deep breath. "Will you let me see them?"
It was silent for a moment before the pop resounded again above the swashing waters and the elderly house-elf appeared on their shared rock. She hesitantly walked a few steps towards him.
"Eve understands," she said after a moment of considering his story and smiled up at him. "She is sure that Master Nicolas would have been delighted that his old studies could be of so much help for someone coming from so far away. Eve has decided to take you to the cottage and let you read his travelogues."
Just like that? He blinked. This... was actually easier than expected.
"May I ask?" interrupted Dumbledore and looked curiously at Ed. "What was the country's name, Mr. Elric?"
Right, I never mentioned.
"It was called Xerxes."
The wind that was continually blowing towards them from the sea whipped around the grey hairs of Dumbledore's beard and he raised his arm to grab and keep his pointy hat on his head. His blue eyes stared at Ed for a long time, but he didn't say anything. It didn't even really seem as if he was looking directly at Ed. More like he had his eyes fixed on a place far beyond him, on the horizon. On the most distant of memories.
"Mister Dumbledore, sir? Have you heard of it before?" piped the light voice of Eve over the rushing waves. It pulled him out of his thoughts successfully.
Clearing his throat, the wizard replied: "I'm not too sure, Eve. I believe to have heard this name before, and quite possibly in a conversation with your late master as well. However, for the life of it I cannot remember what exactly was said back then." He frowned. "Nicolas indeed told me once that he had travelled nearly the whole world during the many centuries he lived, so it's not impossible that he came across it, or at least stories that relate to it. I don't know whether this happened before its downfall or not, though." The usual smile found its way back onto his features as he directed his gaze from Eve to Edward. "Whichever the case, I wish you luck with your research, Mister Elric." Turning back to the elf, he added: "Is it alright if I drop by from time to time to check up on him and see if there is anything I could help him with?"
"Of course, Mister Dumbledore, sir, you are always welcome in Master Flamel's home."
"Thank you, Eve," he said whilst inclining his head first to her, then to Ed. "I guess I'll be taking my leave then."
And with a last twinkle from his eyes, he just vanished into air.
Ed blinked. Where was the crack? The pop? The plop?
"Mr. Elric?" interrupted the house-elf.
Standing right next to him, Eve held out one of her small hands in his direction and motioned for him to take it.
And without second guessing his actions, Ed automatically put his own left into hers.
It was only five minutes later at maximum, most likely a lot less, but the blond alchemist seriously wondered if it hadn't been around five hours. One moment, he was standing on the slippery rocks of the coast of Lundy Island, saying good-bye to the Headmaster of Hogwarts – the next he grabbed Eve's hand and something happened. It had felt as if some kind of force had been applied to his body from all sides nearly at once and, whilst all had been... what? Compressed? Forced through a rubber tube? … some parts of him had coped better than others.
He had let go of his trunk as soon as the sensation had faded away to double over and clutch his stomach. Concentrating on his body, he heaved in huge gulps of air, desperate to keep the delicious breakfast he had had earlier inside.
Magic sucks, was the conclusion Edward came to once he could focus properly again. Now, what happened this time?
The best way to find this out, he figured, was to open his eyes. As easily said as done, he blinked a couple of times and, for the second time that day, took in the completely changed surroundings.
He appeared to be in an average living room. Standing in its middle was a low coffee table decorated with a vase full of blooming flowers that had two armchairs and a couch surrounding it. Further to the wall he could see a sideboard below a large, open window. It was obviously still day as the room was brightened by the sunlight shining in through the light curtains, but a lot of lanterns and candles had been placed around the room to be used once evening would come.
A tug on his pants made him look downwards – right into the green, worried, teary eyes of the house-elf he had met on the shore.
"Eve is so sorry!" She started to ramble and dragged Ed over to one of the armchairs. "Is Mister Elric alright? Eve didn't know Mister Elric wasn't accustomed to Apparition! She would have warned him for sure if she had known! Eve thought, being a traveller he must be an adult and used to Apparition, so she didn't say anything... Is there anything Eve could do for Mister Elric?" Her eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger by the moment.
"Uhm...," Ed started but didn't know what to say. He had never known what to say whenever someone had looked at him with that look. He thought back to all those times Al would bring a kitten home and he would know that, theoretically, he had to say 'No!' but, practically, finding it a lot harder to speak this one word than it should possibly be. He thought back to all those times Winry would look at him he left Resembool. Asking him with her eyes only to say something, even though he had no idea what it was that she expected. He usually went for a teasing remark as a good-bye but could tell, from the wrench thrown his way, that it was not what she wanted to hear. He thought back to his mother's eyes. To Elicia. To Nina.
How do they do that? A hardly audible voice asked in the back of his head.
"I'm alright, don't worry," he managed at last and desperately hoped that she would indeed stop worrying. And crying. And looking at him like this. "Just a tad surprised."
Eve didn't look very convinced and continued to critically check his sitting form over with her eyes.
"I really am!" he assured before she could ask again. As an afterthought, he added: "And it's very nice of you to think of me as an adult." It really was. Despite the remaining feelings of sickness and the annoyance, he felt very pleased about that. "However, I'm still sixteen and don't have a license yet." That, and no magic. The license had been mentioned by Mr. Lane at the breakfast table on the morning he left for the Shrieking Shack and Ed had been very pleased to hear that wizards apparently had some forms of restrictions.
Her eyes got big. "Oh, Eve sees! But again, Eve is so sorry..."
"There really is no need to be," he interrupted, afraid that she might start all over again, "you did nothing wrong." He smiled reassuringly. "Can you show me around?"
That was all the distraction that was needed. Focussing on her new task, the house-elf showed him through the rooms of the cottage, the kitchen, the bathroom, her room – should he ever need anything, he shouldn't hesitate – and the guest room. There, Ed opened the windows to let in a little bit of fresh air, positioned his trunk in a corner near the bed and admired the wooden furniture and floorboards that were as present here as they had been in the rest of the house.
"Does Mr. Elric like it?"
I won't ever get used to their way of talking, Ed thought, whilst turning towards the small figure still standing in the doorway. Didn't Dumbledore say she was freed by her masters' deaths? So, shouldn't she be more self-confident instead of anxious?
"Yes, Eve, it's perfect. Can you show me Mr. Flamel's notes as well? It's still early, so I thought about taking a general look at them."
She beamed. "Of course, Mr. Elric! This way," she said and started to go back in the direction of the living room. "It's so nice to have someone here, sir," she said about half way, "Eve is really happy."
And Ed couldn't help but wonder if house-elves required the feeling of being needed to be happy.
They had indeed made their way right to the living room and straight to a wall that had been behind Edward when he had first arrived. On it was a painting, moving like all the others that he knew from Hogwarts, showing an elderly couple comfortably sitting on a bench in front of a house. Around them and behind the building, there was a meadow full of blooming flowers that looked like a colourful blanket had been thrown over the lands.
Probably the Flamels, Ed realized and looked curiously at the two. As Eve and he came near, both stopped the chat they had going before and turned to look a them expectantly. Going to the left side of the canvas, Eve gently tapped on the spherical parachute ball of a withered dandelion that was shown there. In an instant, the myriad of seeds burst apart and flew all around the painting. Ed, who didn't know what was happening at all, was even more surprised when the frame started to automatically slide to the side, revealing an old curtain behind its former perch.
"This is it, Mr. Elric," Eve said smiling friendly. "Eve hopes you find what you are searching for, and that you can help your country." The elf went to the sideboard, took a lantern from its top and lit it with a snap of her fingers.
Without any gloves. Man, Mustang would be so jealous! But if I need a lantern at daylight...
"There is no window inside?" Edward asked curiously and took the lantern himself.
"No, sir. Even though the books are conserved by magic, Master Nicolas said that it would still be better to keep them within moderated temperatures and in the dark. Mr. Elric can bring them out here, of course, but they are still very old, so he should be careful." With that, she bowed once again and left in the direction of the kitchen to start preparation for lunch.
Here I go, Al! thought Edward and grinned like a mad man once he heard the tapping of Eve's footsteps fade into the distance.
He raised the lantern in his right arm to his eye level, pushed the curtain to the side with the other and climbed through the hole in the wall. There, he let go off the fabric again and walked a couple of steps further into the adjacent room. The soft, yellow light immediately shot into all directions and seemingly chased away the shadows lurking behind the shelves and between the books. The masses of very old books. Very old notebooks, even. His eyes shone in childish delight and pleasant anticipation of what he might discover. This wasn't a library full of books about topics he had never heard of. This wasn't a room taunting his intellect about the workings of the world. This was the study, the personal library even, of a fellow alchemist.
If possible, his grin actually widened.
So, the research notes are hidden well, Dumbledore said. What better place to hide a tree than placing it right in the middle of a dense forest? And even if he didn't manage to crack the coding that was most likely used on Flamel's research, if he was able to find information on Xerxes, he would see at which time Flamel paid it his visit.
It was either before the construction of the array had begun or thereafter. If I can find out when exactly he came into contact with its society and alchemists, then I will know if there was a point in his research where he linked our alchemy to his ideas on the Sorcerer's Stone or if he had already completed it by then. And in the meantime, I can keep my eyes peeled for anything that remotely looks like a code.
Motivated even more, Edward approached the nearest bookshelf and started to skim through the spines of the aligned tomes. There wasn't much to skim through, though, as only one out of four actually had their titles written on their backs. The rest seemed to indeed be the very notebooks that Flamel had written himself.
Jackpot!
Ignoring all of the named specimen, Ed immediately went for three adjacent notebooks and took them out of the shelf. He remembered with a frown how he had first returned to the library of Hogwarts, right after breakfast, to find out that Bane had had to return all his discarded books to their proper positions inside the shelves, and decided that he'd better find a table somewhere to sit down properly. A short search later and he he found a comfortably cushioned, albeit rather dusty, armchair in one of the corners. Not wanting to sit in a piece of furniture that had not only accumulated around two centimeters of dust but also seemed to be too old to properly hold his weight, Edward placed the lantern and the three books on top of the wooden desk and took a closer look at the chair.
Should be simple enough.
A clap later he placed both hands on it and the familiar blue electric light zapped in the semi-darkness of the study. Starting at his hands it continued on to envelop the whole of the chair and slowly, but steadily, changed its shape to be more robust and less chalky.
But still, something had been different. Ed frowned a moment before his eyes widened, struck by a flash of inspiration. The energies! Indeed, he hadn't thought about them for quite some time. How, the nearer he had gotten towards Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, the easier it had become to transmute the landscape. How he hadn't even had to actually focus on the flows of energies at all. All the way from how to gather them into the circle and direct them along its lines, right to the elements he wanted to move. What had been present abundantly there, was only a little above normal inside the study. Or what seems to be 'normal' everywhere short of Amestris, he thought bemusedly. He had delved on that as soon as he had forged his very first train tickets after leaving the country but had yet to come up with a solution on the subject.
Maybe it's like the Xingese said? The question that had appeared in his head didn't manage to stay there for long. He had not found an answer on earlier occasions and it seemed unlikely that he would find one now. Shaking off his current train of thought, he cautiously sat down and, when the chair proved to be able to hold his weight, grabbed the first one of his books, opened it and took a good look at it.
He blinked.
Then, he looked again. This time with way more concentration.
It didn't help.
An angry huff resonated from shelves and walls alike, followed by the scratching noises of the chair scraping against the floor boards. The light of the lantern swayed, then moved in rhythm with the stomping sound belonging to the heavy footsteps of the exasperated alchemist. It was only a mere couple of seconds until the curtain was moved away, then closed again and the sounds faded away.
"Eve," Ed called out to the house-elf that was currently rummaging through the lower shelves of the kitchen and showed her the book he had brought with him from the study.
She raised her eyebrows and blinked uncomprehendingly up at him.
Ed grimaced. "Do you know by any chance how to decipher your late Master's handwriting?"
It had been a week since Eve had started to show him which of the squiggles, loops and nearly-straight-lines were which respective character and Edward had finally managed to read a whole page without needing to ask for her help. She had been convinced that this had been her master's everyday handwriting and not some kind of elaborate fictional alphabet, but she hadn't been able to convince Ed completely. If a word looked like ~~~/, then it apparently meant and. /~~~/ could be land and /~~~~/ hand. ~~~~/ was wand, obviously.
Such evident differences! Wonder how I could have missed them, thought Ed sarcastically but wisely kept his mouth shut. He was still far from reading the chicken scratch fluently and it wouldn't do him any good to fall out with Eve.
The one thing that was positive about the whole ordeal was that, instead of sitting in the dark study, Eve and he had taken the garden furniture out of a small shed next to the cottage and placed a few of Flamel's newer writings on the table. They couldn't take the old notebooks out into the bright rays of the sun and the salty, humid air, for they would have taken great damage from it but, fortunately, the main characteristics of his writing style had stayed the same over the centuries and could be used as a general guideline.
What would have been bad for the old tomes, though, was a welcome change for Ed. After the days in the dark hallways of the castle, the sunlight, fresh breeze and proximity to nature marked a very welcome change in scenery. There were people there, too. Not too many as the tourist season hadn't started yet, but the few natives liked to take a stroll on the extensive plateau that stretched above the steep cliffs. None of them were able to see Eve, Ed or the cottage because of the many wards surrounding it, and so they just walked by, happily chatting on their way to the lighthouse.
He averted his gaze from the scenery around him, sighed and turned the page to continue practising. After all, he still hadn't figured out how to see the marginal distinction between man and men.
Who would've thought that I would need to practically relearn how to read one day?
Al was to never know about this. And neither was Winry. And Teacher. And Mustang. … Especially not Mustang.
Best to never mention it to anyone! he decided at last.
In the end, it took him another full week until he was familiar enough with the illegible writing style and the many very old fashioned words that Flamel used, so that he could finally start to research what he had come there for. Armed with a general knowledge on how to decipher Flamel's handwriting, the search seemed to have become considerably less difficult, but it still wasn't easy by any means.
The difference with Dr. Marcoh's notes was that we knew they were coded and we knew what kind of information he had wanted to hide. But here, Ed thought and looked around the study, it could be everything or nothing at all.
He had then started with getting an idea about how the study was organized and proceeded to only search the oldest of notebooks as these were the ones to most likely hold any kind of information that he wanted. It was a slow process and he only needed to look around the room once, take in all the notebooks he had to yet decipher and calculate the time he needed for a single one of them, to falter significantly in his motivation. Faltering was of no use, though. This was by far the best lead he had come across since leaving and it would do no one good if he gave up now.
And besides, he thought after another two weeks, just because it's a slow process doesn't mean I won't be getting anywhere.
At first, Flamel's alchemy had seemed to have been built up around the different elements, much like the way the Amestrians' had. However, where they used arrays to channel energy into the components, Flamel seemed to have merely mixed substances together, much like he had read in the Potion section from the school library.
Once a wizard, always a wizard.
He was just glad that Dumbledore had apparently so much business on his hands that he had only twice 'checked on him' (More like controlled, really.) so far – and that was when he was still trying to learn how to read the writings. Which had, of course, amused the old wizard a lot.
Edward was once again sitting outside on the bench, enjoying the warm summer sun on his skin. Now that the rain and storms that had raged the last days had finally faded away, it was high time that he and Eve had taken out the garden furniture once more. With a sigh, he clapped his own notebook shut and laid it on the table in front of him. He had gotten a good deal further with his research but even though the results weren't totally unexpected to far, they were neither the ones nor to the extend he had hoped for. What he had was a theory, nothing more, nothing less.
And after more than a month with hardly a break, Ed felt a little weary. Yes, he decided, a nap would be in order. Eve would wake him up when it was time for another one of her delicious meals. He still felt guilty for staying so long without having anything he could offer in return. He had asked, sure, but it seemed that merely being needed was enough of a 'payment' for the elf. While it was something that Ed hadn't been able to figure out in the whole month, he had come to understand that this might just be one of the things nobody should interfere with.
Right. No need to further strain my brain, he thought, crossed his arm on the table and bedded his head on top of them.
Ed woke up when a shadow fell over his face. He slowly raised his head and blinked his eyes in rapid succession to adjust them to the brightness of the sun that had returned when the cause of the shadow had moved away again. The sound of another garden chair being pulled back and sat upon could be heard and he just knew that it was apparently time for yet another 'check up' on him. True to his thoughts, he could see Dumbledore sitting next to him once he felt awake enough to properly look around.
For a while, neither man said anything. They just sat there in front of the cottage and looked on ahead at where the island's plateau extended on the other side of the wards. More and more tourists had come during the last weeks regardless of the bad weather and, now that the sun had finally broken through the clouds again, a steady stream of people could be seen that strolled along the few paths. Most of them headed to the lighthouse on the north side, some remained near the small harbour and a few even walked to the herds of cows grazing on the fields.
"So," Dumbledore started after a while, but didn't take his gaze off the beautiful vista of nature. "Did you manage to find what you have been looking for?"
It's a good thing he remembers that I don't appreciate it when he beats around the bush.
Edward sighed. "In some ways I did. In others I didn't. It's hard to say, really."
"Well, it has only been a month so far, so there is no reason to give up already," supposed Dumbledore. "If you were able to find something, you were already more successful than I would have thought, Mr. Elric. I believed that Nicolas had hidden his notes on the Sorcerer's Stone well enough for nobody to be able to access them, but it appears that I, and in extension he as well, were wrong about that?"
Ed shook his head. "No, you weren't. I haven't yet found the notes on the Stone but then again, those weren't my primary target so far, either."
At this, the wizard turned to face him with raised eyebrows. "They weren't?"
"No," he answered. "I didn't just tell the story about Xerxes to get access to his notes on the stone, you know?" This time, it was his turn to let his eyes twinkle in slight amusement. "They must be really well hidden, so the chances of me actually finding them when I knew near to nothing about Flamel, his life, magic and his style of art would have been practically zero. I figured that, by finding out if Flamel had visited Xerxes and, if yes, during which period, I could determine if he visited during the time of the preparations for the creation of the first Philosopher's Stone. If that had been the case, I wouldn't have had any need to search for his notes whatsoever. Because chances are that he would have used the same 'ingredients' if he had encountered the exact same theories."
"I take it then, he didn't?"
Edward nodded. "He was there, alright. I found one of his travelogues of this journey around a week ago and he didn't even encode it." Which is stupid, mind you. "According to that, though, he was there when he was still as normal as everyone else."
"Which means that he visited when he had yet to create the Sorcerer's Stone?"
He nodded once more. "Exactly."
"So he could have gained the knowledge on its creation there as well."
"Yes," Ed said but frowned deeply. "I think it was a little different, though."
"Oh?"
"I think it was the first time he heard about real alchemy. From what I read, he had thought of alchemy as a part of potion making before and was intrigued by the modification of the arrangement of elements the Xerxesians practised. He even spent a lot of time learning it by trying to combine the two. However, as much as I can appreciate the exactness and the strict rules concerning the order in which the ingredients have to be added, potion making and the use of alchemy are different. For the first, you use the heat or thermal energy to change and mix the components. For the second, you use earth or tectonic energy to move the components."
"And he tried to combine them?"
"Even better," Ed said and paused. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that pauses were dramatic. Nor had it to do with the fact that the old man right next to him was hanging onto every single word that left his lips. "After a few rather explosive tries, he tried to combine it with magic."
As he had hoped, the wizard's eyes grew round. "But how would that even be possible?"
So even if he was Flamel's partner in alchemy, they apparently never spoke about this subject. That's...interesting.
"Because, and please correct me if I understood it wrong, magic is energy as well."
"Yes, it is," the wizard agreed. "But it is innate energy. If we could combine it with tectonic energies, wouldn't we be able to fly without the need of broomsticks?"
"But aren't you able to levitate things? And don't you think that you also unknowingly combine them whenever you Apparate? Last, but definitely not least: how do you even know that this energy is innate?"
Edward had had a lot of time to himself during the last weeks and he had spent a good deal of it thinking about the world he had entered. About magic, where it comes from, what it can do. He hadn't gotten anywhere at first as it seemed to him as if he was collecting merely pieces to the puzzle. The energy surrounding Hogwarts that influenced his alchemy and that wasn't nearly as strong on this island, what Mei had said about Amestris seeming to have a cushion, Apparition, Levitation, Transfiguration and the other branches of magic. He had even started a few careful conversations with Eve concerning this topic, but had to always watch out to not be revealed as non-magical. The problem was that Ed had had no idea what the puzzle might look like in the end. Until he had come across the mentioned travelogue, that is. The picture still seemed far from complete, but at least he now had a theory.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, "we can levitate things. I'm not sure about Apparition... It's been long since I learned it and I mostly Apparate without even thinking about what exactly I am doing... But what makes you say that magic might not me innate energy? Where else would it come from? And if it comes from the outside, why wouldn't Muggles be able to access it too?"
"You see, Mr. Dumbledore, there is a concept in alchemy that we call the 'flow' or, more accurately, 'the flow of power' or even 'the flow of life'. In it, the 'power' is mostly defined as tectonic energy and in order to successfully perform a transmutation one has to understand this flow as well as the laws of nature. Only then can they apply it to, well, practically everything. As was proven with the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, though, either the term tectonic energy is too narrow in its wording, or there are other energies as well. Now, I understand that you are not an alchemist in the same sense that I am, but this is very important. Do you follow me so far?" He looked expectantly towards Dumbledore.
"I... hope so. I don't understand just how you access this energy, though."
Edward smiled. "And that's just the solution to your problem concerning Muggles and magic. So, just for a moment, let's assume that there is a flow of energy out there in the world. It might be everywhere, sometimes more dense and sometimes nearly unnoticeable. Whatever is created in this world comes out of it and whatever leaves it gets absorbed back inside, creating a perfect circle." Everything always seemed to have to do with circles. "Now, let's further assume that there are different kinds of creatures in the world with different kinds of attributes and they all have, in varying degrees, something we could call...mh... 'affiliations'. Those that are highly sensitive can directly access the energies of the flow and those that are less sensitive cannot."
Ed paused for a moment to let it sink in. Dumbledore had his bushy white brows furrowed in thought and kept staring ahead. He nodded slightly as if to show his understanding, but Ed got the distinct impression that this was more of a reflex rather than a real grasp on what he had said.
"So, how about I give you an example? Assuming this theory, Muggles would have no innate sixth 'sense' that would build a link with the flow and they thus can't access its powers. Magical creatures, like house-elves for example, have this innate sense – and a very strong one at that. They don't need anything other than themselves to do what you would call magic and they don't even need to use any kind of device. As for wizards and witches, they might be somewhere in between. You have the sense and can do a little bit of wandless magic, but in general you need to use the wand – a device created with materials originating from other magical beings – as an amplifier and your words to properly focus the energy."
"This...," Dumbledore started after a very long pause, "is a very interesting theory."
"Yes. It is. There is just one flaw in it..."
"Which?"
"I'm not a wizard." Obviously.
Dumbledore blinked. "That's true."
He hadn't actually forgotten about that? Edward stared at him in bewilderment.
"So: where is the link to your alchemy?"
"Right! Your innate sense can link you with all of the energies that are inside the flow and the wand amplifies and directs it. Now, it may be that the circle and the formulas we use present a way to link with a single kind of energy: the tectonic one. Right now I don't know why Flamel needed to combine both ways, but from what I have read so far this is most likely what he came up with in the end." He sighed. "It's just a theory, though, and a very shaky one at that. Unless I find the real notes on the Stone I doubt I can say for sure what he did.
"In conclusion, this would mean that the Sorcerer's Stone may not only be created without killing someone, but that it is far more powerful than the Philosopher's Stone, too. And that one has to be both, alchemist and wizard, to obtain it."
"...Which you aren't."
"Exactly."
There was a lull in the conversation once again and Ed couldn't help but wonder just how much time had passed since the old man had seated himself next to him.
"So, what do you intend to do about it?" asked Dumbledore sympathetically. "You still need to save your brother, right?"
That is the one million cenz question. If this theory is true, then the energy I use for transmutations is just the tip of the iceberg.
"What if I used a wand? Would I be able to do magic?"
Dumbledore blinked. "No, you wouldn't. The wand chooses the wizard, they say. It has to be the perfect match, otherwise the wizard will never be able to achieve his greatest potential." Never be able to fully access the flow, Ed translated internally. "I have never heard of a Muggle getting even the slightest bit of a reaction from any kind of wand."
They weren't able to form a link. But I can form a minimalistic link by using arrays.
"But none of them were alchemists, right? You said I was the first of my kind that you encountered?"
"Yes, that's true. I don't see what kind of difference it would make, though."
"If it makes a difference or not completely depends on whether my theory is true or not. I would need my 'perfect match', though."
"No wand would choose you," Dumbledore said without missing a beat.
"What if one was specifically made?" Ed frowned.
The wizard blinked. "I doubt any wandmaker would be able to properly assess all of your characteristics in absolute detail and accuracy, Mr. Elric. There is a lot more to wandlore than you might think."
'A lot more than I might think', huh? But I can't give up when the solution to getting Al's body back is practically sitting right in front of my nose. No wandmaker could assess me properly. Now think, Edward Elric! You are a genius for Gate's sake!
Author's Note:
It's done!
And yes, I know, I'm really late with this (right on the last day of my schedule). I needed three whole weeks and around five complete revisions of the start of the chapter until I had finally figured out how everything might fit together.
On a positive side note, though, the total chapter number has increased. Not sure if that's enough to pacify you guys, but I thought I'd try. ;)
Also, I decided to delay the flashback about conversation with the Baron to the point where it actually matters story-wise. (Which will be...around summer 2014, I think. Or autumn.) So that I don't have to repeat myself inside the story (writing it now and then referring to it later) and you have a little bit more to wonder about. Keeps your imagination alive.
As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed!
I'm pretty sure I didn't manage to reply to at least two of you, but rest assured that this doesn't mean that I appreciate those reviews any less. If you've got anything worth noting, positive stuff and criticism alike, don't hesitate to tell me. Especially the critics.
(Number)-time:
(1) Pac, Blinky, Clyde
So, anyone still remembers how I said Gift of the Dragons got a different association when hearing the name 'Blinky'? Well, this is it: Pac Man! (which I do not own and don't make money with) It was too tempting, especially when there are ~20 ghosts in the castle and we only know the names of the 4 house ghosts.
Pac was the yellow, dot eating ball, btw, and Blinky and Clyde (and Inky and Pinky) were the ghosts' names.
(2) Lundy Island
Which I obviously don't own either, just in case someone was wondering.
Thanks a lot for reading and see you, hopefully, in the next chapter:
Chapter 5: London