Warnings: No warnings.

Beta-reader: Gift of the Dragons

"Abc!" - spoken words

"Abc!" - words spoken in the past

Abc! - thoughts

Recap Chapters 1-5:

The Elric brothers split up on their quest for information on how to regain their bodies. Following a lead to the Philosopher's Stone, Edward first arrived at Hogsmeade, later at Hogwarts. There, Edward passed Dumbledore's 'trial', as neither he nor the Bloody Baron were able to detect any suspicious behaviour from the teen and was allowed to meet up with Eve, the Flamel's former house-elf, at their cottage on an island in Devon. While he could confirm that the Sorcerer's Stone is made of magical energy, he needs to take an apprenticeship in wandlore to create a wand that might work for him.

Chapter 6: London (words: 9884)

Well, Edward mused as the back door of the Leaky Cauldron closed behind them, somehow I had imagined the magical world to be a little more... sparkly.

He had expected witches with pointy hats riding on broomsticks through the air. He had expected magical creatures like the ones he had read about in Hogwarts' library running around or wrecking havoc like Mister Lane's Cornish Pixies. Granted, there hadn't been any broomstick riding witches in Hogsmeade either, but that had been a village. Right now he was supposed to be looking at the magical capital of the United Kingdom.

He felt like he had the right to be disappointed.

The place the door had led them to, was a backyard of approximately ten square meters. There was nothing there, except the back door, the brick wall and a bin.

Speaking of which...

He eyed the dustbin in one of the corners distastefully. Surely he wasn't supposed to step inside that to reach where they were headed? They had used fireplaces after all, so he couldn't be too sure. Doesn't look like it though, he thought, relieved. At least judging by the way Eve was walking purposefully towards the brick wall right across of him. He blinked. The brick wall?

With a wave of her hand, a small chair appeared right in front of it and, stepping on top, Eve reached out to touch a random set of bricks.

The wall started to move just as she had finished hopping down and let the chair vanish again. One by one, the bricks moved to the side to form a passageway and in a way, Ed had to admit that it made sense to hide the entrance by magic if one didn't want anyone accidentally walking through, especially someone that wasn't supposed to be there. He briefly wondered if he was the first non-magical human to put his foot in Diagon Alley and his excitement rose. That would be awesome. He made a mental note to ask Dumbledore the next time they met.

When the wall finally stopped reforming itself into an elegant archway, Eve and Ed could easily step through.

Well, this is more what I had imagine things to be like, he smiled brightly.

It still wasn't quite as fantastic as his expectations – nobody flying on broomsticks as far as he could see and there weren't any dragons flying by, breathing scalding hot fire down their necks, either – but it was a nice start. And even though it wasn't as amazing as flying dragons, it was most certainly an improvement to the backyard.

Because all around them, there were people. A lot of them, even, going along the street, taking looks at the products displayed in the shop windows, sometimes even going inside to take a closer look. Happy chatter filled the air as Eve and Ed joined the masses for a stroll in the warm summer sun. He was glad that there was no adequate surrogate for the standard robes which the wizards and witches wore. London, it seemed, was a lot less windy than Lundy Island, even though the wind still howled at a remarkable speed through the narrow space between the shops. And whilst it certainly wasn't as hot here as it had been in East City or the desert regions to the east of Amestris, wearing gloves all day long would have appeared even stranger if no one else had at least been wearing long sleeved clothes.

Along the way through the curving alley, Edward could see a lot of strange signs for the names of shops. Just now, Eve and he had passed one that was called Twilfitt and Tattings. Before that, there had been Quality Quidditch Supplies, Rosa Lee Teabag and even Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. To 'get rid of warts and worse.' It seemed that, in the end, at least some of Ed's stereotypes were being served just fine.

This turned out to be more and more true by the minute. It wasn't in dragons or flying broomsticks or hooked noses that the magical world presented itself. It was in the details.

It was in the totally natural way a pedestrian would take out his wand and wave it at their purchases to make them float behind them. It was in the soft hooting coming from the inhabitants of the newly bought cages. It came with the chatter that reached his ears, excited debates over who would win the upcoming Quidditch World Cup – whatever that was. It came with the shop signs proclaiming ' Fifty Flubberworms – three sickles, five knuts! Only while stocks last!' With the book titles in the stores. With the pointy hats. With the smell of soot that those travelling by Floo carried with them...

As Eve and he strolled leisurely along the cobbled pavement, Ed couldn't suppress the optimism that rose in his chest. Right then, a woman ahead of them changed the colours of her clothes to that of a deep forest green. "To match my new hat," she explained to her friend as Ed passed by. Several turns later, a group of teens around his own age tried to best each other in shooting colourful sparks into the air.

The dots of light came together to form this scenery or that face, then burst apart before settling on the next image, then the next. The flowing waterfalls had certainly been impressive, but, personally, Edward thought that the black dragon with the massive claws, the blazing eyes and the night-blue wings should have won. Just like the jury, though, Eve preferred the blood red rose, detailed to the very fine gradual blurs of colour in each of the pedals. The thorns had looked as if they could actually hurt, even when everyone had known them to be fake. Edward had to at least admit that much.

They ate in companionable silence on the side of the street where they had just been offered a suspicious looking, red soup as a free of charge sample. Technically, it had been offered to Ed, but he had insisted on them giving a small portion to Eve as well so that he 'knew if it was alright.' It was. And it tasted totally delicious.

They went on with their tour and Ed discovered more and more. There was a big, white building that looked like an ivory tower but actually served as the bank for the wizards. Gringotts. This was where he would need to go after hopefully being accepted as Mister Ollivander's apprentice. According to Eve, they even had dragons. Real ones, not the spark-version they had seen earlier, she had elaborated when he had sent a dubious glance in her direction.

And after his eyes had just gotten all shiny and excited, she had smiled whimsically and added that he probably wouldn't see them anyway, for they only protected the oldest vaults that were deep down in the earth and that a vault of an apprentice certainly did not qualify as valuable enough. He had been flabbergasted at this impish trait that he had never seen in her before, but went along with it nonetheless. She was too sweet to be mad at.

He had a lot of fun that day and by the way she had been smiling, he guessed that his companion did as well. Eve had done an awesome job at leading them back to the Leaky Cauldron, too, and was very proud of herself for being such a great help. With all the new and interesting things to see, Ed had completely forgotten to pay any mind to the way they had taken and only realized he was terribly lost when the skies had started to darken for the evening.

With everything he had seen that day, though, he was more sure than ever. If there was a place that could help him to get Al's body back, he had just found it.

It was two days later when, once again, Edward was standing in the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked the same. The brick wall looked the same. The dustbin and everything else looked the same. But it wasn't. Eve wasn't there that day. He came alone. The elf had been worried when he had asked her to stay at her home in Devon, but he hadn't given in. She had taken exceptionally good care of him. She had shown him every rock of the pavement and guided him through every turn in the street, explained the customs and told stories of when she had last visited with her late masters.

In fact, she had taken care of him with such excellence that he now had doubts about being able to cope with the wizards and their culture on his own. Or find his way back to the pub.

So, today, he had decided that he was going out without her.

Easier said than done, though, as he hadn't really gotten that far. The very first obstacle was tall and red and unrelenting. And right behind the back door of the bar. He sighed. I knew it wouldn't be as easy without her; but to be stopped after only two meters? Moping wasn't of any use, though, for the wall wouldn't just disappear the longer and the harder he glared at it. Just how am I supposed to get on the other side? he thought exasperatedly.

He didn't have a wand. And even if a wand was to mysteriously pop up out of nowhere, he wouldn't be able to use it. He had already tried to transmute the passage, but, while the materials actually had moved, there appeared just a normal, non-magical back alley on the other side. A group of rats were the only living beings and they had scurried into hiding as fast as possible, startled by the bright blue light of his transmutation. Disappointed, he had quickly turned the wall to its former shape before a witch or wizard could stroll along and catch him red-handed.

Before Ed could continue in his musings about kidnapping one of the wizards inside the pub and forcing them to open the gateway, however, the reason for his distress started to move of its own accord. Brick after brick rearranged its position to form a perfectly shaped archway. Maybe glaring at it actually does help? he wondered briefly. Such a skill would definitely come in handy again. As most things in life, though, the thought was too good to be true. A small, plump man in brown robes entered his field of vision through the newly created passage. Without even so much as a second glance, he passed by the startled teenager and rushed into the Leaky Cauldron.

Not that the teenager in question minded that much, though. Why would he mind being ignored, when the obstacle that had been in his way for a total of thirty minutes had vanished into thin air? And without him needing to kidnap anyone, too? Ed threw a thankful smile at the unresponsive, closing back door and hurried through the archway before the wall could reform itself once again.

The street was as lively as always and Edward felt immediately more alive himself.

The sight that met him was by now a little more familiar than at first. Faking an air of nonchalance that he didn't actually possess, Ed started on his journey of the day. With Eve, he had been reluctant to actually stop at the windows of the shops and take a closer look, let alone enter it. For some reason or another, house-elves weren't allowed to enter most of them. And he hadn't wanted to keep her waiting. So, today, he would take his sweet time and browse through the lots, ask a question here or there that he deemed safe enough and generally enjoy this world.

That was the plan.

Maybe he should have remembered that plans had never really worked with him. Not in pacifying Lior, not in Briggs and most certainly not the night he lost Al's body.

This time, the failure started off with a simple observation: three elderly women were seated comfortably in the cushioned chairs in front of one of the few cafés, each of whom had a piece of cake and a cooled butterbeer placed neatly in front of her. They were leaning forward in their chairs so much, that Ed had to wonder when the first one would actually fall out of their seat. All three of them were huddled together in a very conspirational manner, but that first impression was destroyed when their voices carried clearly to Ed's ears. From the sounds of it, they were merely exchanging cooking receipts.

All of this, though, wasn't what had captured Ed's attention in the first place. He rose his eyes to focus on the lone roll of parchment that was floating above their heads. A violet quill was floating nearby and set into action as soon as a receipt was being exchanged. It sped about the paper faster than any human hand could possibly hope to be writing, before coming to a rest again, once all the ingredients had been listed.

They really don't do anything by themselves, was all Ed could think at the sight. During the past days, and before that as well, he had been impressed by the range of utility magic held. By how easy it made most activities. By the fact that it appeared to require no strength at all, without the restraints alchemy put to one's intentions.

But that was a false sense of security, he realized as he remembered all the other occasions where magic had been used when it wasn't really necessary. They travel in an instant. They don't carry things. They make things happen without knowing how. Without any effort. They don't know the meaning of patience. They don't know physical exhaustion. They aren't relying on themselves and their own abilities. The only thing they rely on is magic.

Now that he had been made aware of the other side of the coin, Ed started to pay more attention to his surroundings. It wasn't as easy as he had hoped it to be. More often than not, he would slip back into wearing rose-tinted glasses, but at least he kept trying.

Sometimes, though, he didn't even need to try.

Seeing as Eve wasn't with him and he felt free to go inside shops, he made a beeline for Slug and Jiggers Apothecary as soon as he set his eyes on it. Back in the school's library, the topic of potion creation hadn't seemed to be of much interest for his quest or his understanding of wizard culture. As Flamel's notebooks had proven though, this first impression had been wrong. He had, after all, started his approach on the creation of his Sorcerer's Stone by combining alchemy with potions. Ed had a slight spring in his steps as he made his way over to the shop...

… and came stomping out of it mere two minutes later.

Why would anyone steal eggs out of a nest (1) just to be able to make some kind of love potion? Ed fumed as he fled the scene as fast as possible. And they probably didn't use a syringe to get all those litres of dragon blood either!

When he had first read about the art of potion creation, there had been talk about the use of stems, herbs, hairs and feathers. A root here, a powder there, leaves, blooms, fruits, sometimes even something like the sting of a Billywig. But what he had seen in there busted all his imaginary bubbles. Apart from the mentioned, there were umpteen boxes full with dried legs and claws and scales. Two whole cupboards full of glasses holding eyes, hearts and diverse body liquids. Everything was sold as cheap as dirt. And for as stupid reasons as the creation of love potions.

They really can't do anything without the use of magic!

What as the point of being in a relationship if the other party had been forced into it? Ed didn't know. He could understand that animals were killed. It was alright as long as the reason for killing it was a sensible one. Providing food was sensible – and if the remaining skin could be worked into leather pants, all the better. A love potion, however, is not. At all! To live in the knowledge that the person next to you is only with you because you compelled them to be there? That they would be gone the moment they got their hands on the antidote? Ed shook his head.

He only realized that his darkened mood had led him to the front of Twilfitt and Tatting's, when he heard the oily voice of an aristocrat that must have just left the shop.

"What do you think you are doing, you worthless scum!" shouted the voice and ripped Ed out of his raging thoughts. He looked up in time to see a middle-aged man with long flowing, white-blond hair shouting at his house-elf. The servant was nothing more but a huddling, quivering mess in front of its master. "These are the clothes I was supposed to wear at the championship, they cost me a fortune! How dare you drag the sleeve on the ground! Do you want me to look like a beggar in front of the ministry officials?"

The wizard's eyes were ablaze when he leaned forward to properly stare down at the still shivering figure. "Of course Arty doesn't want Master Lucius to look like a beggar! He is very sorry! Very sorry! He-"

"Shut up!" The uproar managed to not only shut up 'Arty'. Where there had been hushed whispers before, a deathly silence settled over the street. Everyone stared at the exchange between master and servant. Edward, too, stared on in breathless disbelief.

"This isn't the first time this week that you have misbehaved! It's not even the second! It's the third already! Tell me, what should I do with someone as incapable as you? I have no use for incompetence, you should know as much!" The words hit their mark dead on. Arty winced as if he had just been struck by a whip. With every word and every statement he had sunk further and further to the ground. The hot tears rolling down his cheeks were visible when he spoke next.

"Arty is so-" Or tried to.

"I said shut up!" Another verbal whiplash. Another whimper.

Edward watched on as the scene unfolded. He looked around to see if anyone was going to step in and save the poor, scared creature from this visible mistreatment, but what he saw confused him even more. Nobody was paying any real attention. The witches and wizards had their eyes downcast and bodies averted. The few that didn't, had a cold, calculating look in their eyes. But instead of being focused on the man, as Ed had hoped, they were fixating the elf.

Dread spread throughout his body as the realization dawned that nobody. Would. Step. In.

"I have no need for worthless scum like you!" And with a snap, Ed's attention was captured anew. 'Master Lucius' had changed his position slightly and was now stretching out his right hand towards his house-elf, silently commanding him to take what he held.

It was a neck tie.

He's going to free him! Ed was euphoric for but a moment. Because then, Bane's words came crashing down on him: "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." Pictures of Eve appeared in his mind, first those of her in her beautiful summer dresses, then while wearing the rag. For Arty, this was most likely not a reason to celebrate. He feared the disgrace.

The elf's face was white as chalk and utterly crest-fallen as he stared wide-eyed at the man still looming over him. He hadn't given up yet, though. In a last attempt to change his fate, he dropped to his knees and cowered as much as possible.

"Please, please, please, Master Lucius, give Arty one last chance! He'll be sure to always fulfill master's wishes to his utmost satisfaction," he cried out. "Arty will never ever do something wrong, he promises. Please do not free him! He begs you! He'll take on any punishment you choose, but please don't free Arty!"

When the blond man's eyes flashed with annoyance, Ed held his breath.

Slowly, as if forcing himself to do so, he lowered the arm holding the necktie until it came to rest at the side of his body. A flick of his wrist followed and the piece of clothing joined the rest of the garb floating mid-air. His icy cold stare, however, did not waver in the slightest.

Finally, the man answered. "I will give you this last chance," he all but snarled, "but only because I don't have the time to look for a new servant. One. More. Mistake. And you are fired." Before the overjoyed elf could retort anything, he had already turned away. "Now bring me back to the manor, scum, and quickly if you please."

Ed had never heard a 'please' being spoken with so much venom in it. The typical Crack! of a successful Disapparition filled the air only a split second later and suddenly the other pedestrians seemed to be reanimated. The hushed voices turned into excited chatter and feet actually began to move again. Through the curtain of voices, Ed managed to catch glimpses of their conversations.

"... shouldn't have given in..."

"... so noble of him to allow him to stay..."

"... already three mishaps in this week? It's only Wednesday!"

He felt sick. Of course nobody had stepped in.

And with dread welling up his spine and threatening to suffocate his being, Ed realized that he needed to get out of there, if only for just a moment to breathe.

Those morons! How can they look down upon a hard-working soul when all they do all day long is waving a light, wooden stick in the air? I'm sure that guy doesn't even know how to bind shoe-laces by hand!

In the end, his plan of using this day to enjoy this new and 'exciting' world had completely and utterly failed.

In no time at all had Ed returned to the Leaky Cauldron. Lucky for him, the archway in the stone wall was open and he could easily slip through without catching unwanted attention. He crossed the backyard, opened the door and rushed in. In an instant, the familiar smell of Floo Powder, fresh soup and smoke reached his nose. His eyes flickered around the dining area until they settled on the one door across the room. This, he knew, was the exit that led to the non-magical part of London.

And right about now, the non-magical sounded like the heaven he had never actually believed in.

Ed had managed to walk half the way when he was momentarily delayed by a burst of green flames. As the cloud of smoke slowly enveloped him, he cursed himself for taking the detour around the tables instead of just walking right through them. It may have disturbed the customers, but right now, he didn't care anymore. He wanted out.

And out he went.

The light in this part of London was different. The shops in Diagon Alley stood so close to each other, that the street itself was really narrow. As a result, not many rays of sunlight actually managed to get through to it. In the height of summer, this was just as welcome as the wind that sped through the narrow passages. The 'real' city, however, was built differently. Tall buildings adorned each side of the wide streets. Most of them were clad from top to bottom in glass only, each and every pane catching the sun's light and reflecting it down. (2) The street he had stepped in was bright. Maybe even a little too bright, but he didn't care.

The people, too, were different. And it wasn't only because of their 'proper' sense of clothing. They walked faster. With no skill to teleport them to their next destination, they were much more time sensitive than their magical counterparts. Cars sped along the street just to stop short in front of the red traffic light. It wasn't anything like home, like Amestris; here, there was too much advanced technology, too many cars. But even so, Ed felt already more at ease.

He breathed in deeply...

… and started coughing immediately thereafter.

Right, forgot, he thought grudgingly. The cars.

The exhaust fumes of the bus that had passed, to be exact. Not that it deterred him from his aimless stroll along the pavement. It was only around noon and he still had half a day left before he could have dinner in the Leaky Cauldron. He would need to transmute a little bit of the currency used first, he mused. Not too much, though, as he was only going to stay at the inn for another five days and had two meals included.

And then I'm either an apprentice again, or back in Devon.

Right now, though, he was going to enjoy the calm normalcy he hadn't been able to experience for two months.

A couple of hours later and Ed's mood had risen considerably. He had used his newly forged money to buy a decent lunch and the world always looked different with a little bit of food in your stomach. He had also bought some souvenirs that he could bring home after his travels ended from a booth and along the way, three postcards had also found their way into his small shopping bag. Ed had opted for two showing the places of interest to be sent to Teacher and Winry, and another one with the map of the United Kingdom and Ireland for Al.

He didn't mind the smile that unconsciously formed on his face. How he missed them...

The new pair of sunglasses he had purchased slid down his nose once again. It was a hassle, he realized for the umpteenth time since buying them. It had seemed like a wonderful idea in the beginning. Buy a pair of sunglasses to block out the brightness of the sun and hide his unusual yellow eyes behind the blue tinted glass. Kill two birds with one stone. Figuratively, of course. His eyes would relax and the seemingly green eye colour that resulted from the mix would not raise any questions.

It would be perfect, really, he thought in annoyance, if they just stayed where they are supposed to be! With a sigh, he raised his left hand and and shoved the offending accessory back up his nose. There! That's where you belong. And you'd do good to remember!

It was pure chance that he caught the gaze of a child coming his way right at that moment. At first, he thought it was looking startled because of the fierce scowl that had formed on his face, but the child didn't look away even after he smoothed his features back to normal. It did, however, trace the movement of his hand as he let it fall back to limply hang by his side once again. The gaze flickered to his right hand, which was still carrying the shopping bag, then back to his left again. It seemed the child wanted to ask his mother about why someone would wear gloves in the heat of summer, but luckily the lady in question was deeply engrossed in a conversation with her friend.

That's right, Ed thought as the group of three finally passed by. In this part of London, nobody but me is even wearing long sleeves in this kind of weather, let alone gloves.

He had completely forgotten about Muggles not wearing robes and the like. As he became more and more aware of other people staring wonderingly at his gloves as well, Ed finally gave in to the urge and shoved them deep within his pants' pockets. His left slid in easily enough, but his right bumped against an object. Realization dawned upon him as he folded his metal fingers around the silver. His pocket-watch.

That's right, he thought yet again. Remembered.

Never. Forget.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that they were incapable of performing even the most simple of tasks without a wand. It didn't matter that they slaughtered animals just to be able to brew a potion that could force someone else fall in love with them. It didn't matter that some of them were utterly barbaric towards their servants. It didn't matter that they didn't even mind all that.

What mattered was that they could possibly help him with Al.

Always keep on moving. Never look back. That's the only way. The way you have chosen.

And that's what he did. With new found determination, Ed straightened his back and lengthened his strides. With practised ease, he wove through the masses of pedestrians as he took the turns back to where he remembered coming from. It wasn't that far away. Just two more streets, one, and then he could already see the big advertisement that hung high on the building next to the bar.

He hurried over, always watching out to not get hit by a car, and then stopped short.

There was no bar.

The hell is wrong this time? Ed wondered. He was sure this was where he had accessed the non-magical part of London. There was the advertisement, the bus stop, the street-booth, the crossroad and the traffic lights. Everything. Even the graffiti on the walls was the same. And right there, between the bookshop and the record store, that's where he started his walk.

The Leaky Cauldron, however, had vanished. Where it should have been, there was nothing but a broken-down shop. The front door looked as if it would break down any moment. The shutters of the windows on each side of the door were hanging off their hinges, revealing only emptiness where there were glass panes once. The paint that must have decorated the shop at another point in time had peeled off nearly completely, but in the few places it was still hanging to the old wood of the door, it showed a rich dark-green colour. If one didn't count the spiders that must be living hidden in some of the many woven nets, this place was abandoned.

Maybe I was wrong? This can't possibly be the pub.

Utterly confused, Ed looked up and down the street once again. The result, however, was the same.

He was lost.

A worried frown was etched firmly on his face. As he slowly walked up to the broken-down building to take a closer look, each step took more and more concentration.

It was dirty.
It was abandoned.
It looked as if it could collapse at any moment.
He had no business there.
He didn't want to go there.

His instincts were screaming at him.

Edward still hadn't decided on whether to listen to them or not, when a loud barking pulled him out of his musings and another set of instincts took over immediately. In an instant, he had turned around. Ed had never managed to find out just why Den liked to (try to) jump on top of him whenever he returned to Resembool, but he had realized that turning around as soon as he heard him approach lessened his chances of landing on the hard ground significantly.

This time, though, he needn't have worried.

The dog in question, black fur and rather big, had sped past him in a blur. Ed blinked. Right, he chided himself, this isn't Den. Why would another dog spontaneously try to greet me?

He shook his head and turned around once again to see where the dog had gone, just to find it standing on the doorstep of the broken-down shop he had been about to make his way to. A small chain of sausages was held firmly in its muzzle, sharp teeth firmly closed around the soft meat. A low growl erupted. Ed watched on in wonder when the dog sat on its hindpaws and started scratching fiercely at the door. It looked worn-down enough as it was and it certainly wouldn't stand much more.

With a sigh, Ed fought against his stupid instincts, went over, stretched out his left arm and grabbed the dog near his neck.

"You can't do that!" he scolded. "You can't go around damaging stuff. Go, find your master!" He took another moment to stare into the dog's eyes to make sure it got the point, strengthened his grip on the black fur and pushed it away from the door.

The dog blinked. Then, it turned around and stubbornly walked to the door again. Instead of scratching, though, it simply sat down and stared at the doorknob, tail waggling behind it. Edward watched on as it turned its head in his direction and whined, big eyes getting bigger by the moment, and blinked.

What's wrong with this dog? Ed thought in wonder, but complied nonetheless and drew nearer again. Why would it want to get into such an old, abandoned place?

As he reached the door and looked down on the dog for a last time, a thought hit him. The dog didn't have a collar.

"You don't have a master," he concluded confidently.

The dog blinked. It wasn't an actual answer, but Ed took it as a sign of agreement anyway.

"And you're a female."

The dog blinked twice.

"And you need the sausages for your puppies." Because why else would it bring such a large amount of meat to an abandoned house? And that look it had given him earlier was called the 'kicked puppy look', so obviously it had to have learnt that somewhere.

Yep, that must be it! Ed was sure.

By now, the dog had stopped blinking and merely stared at him.

With a smile, Ed bent down to slowly stroke its head. Contrary to his expectations, however, the dog didn't lean into it, but just stared stoically at the doorknob. Ed sighed. There he was, being nice for a change, and all he got was ignorance. Great! Without even so much as a second glance, he raised his right arm, twisted the doorknob and opened the door wide enough to step inside the building.

It was his turn to blink this time.

He was not standing inside an abandoned shop ready to collapse any minute, Ed realized as he heard the door click shut softly behind him. The tables, the customers, the bartender, the staircase...

He was standing inside the Leaky Cauldron again. He turned around to look behind him, just to see that there weren't even windows on this side of the wall.

I won't ever be able to get used to this.

As he turned his head to all sides, looking for the dog that had him open the door in the first place, Ed realized that no, logic wasn't the only thing that had decided to abandon him. The dog, too, had vanished.

As it turned out, Edward hadn't been the first Muggle to enter Diagon Alley. True to his plans, he had brought up the question with Dumbledore upon meeting up with him towards the end to the week and according to the old wizard, Ollivander's Wand Shop had been the first building established, back in 382 B.C., closely followed by Gringotts. Wizardry hadn't been as advanced back then, and most of what a witch or wizard did was to use their knowledge of magical herbs and animals to offer help to those in need. Many of them used to live near the outer edges of the villages, close enough to both, the people they got their money from and the woods where they found the ingredients, but with enough distance to not arise too much suspicion or be threatened by wild animals.

The line between witches and wizards on the one side, and 'normal' people on the other had been blurry back then; interaction had not exactly been a common occurrence but not a real exception either. It was during these times that Diagon Alley also received visits from Muggles. That is, until superstition won against common sense and the witch-hunt began.

"The Middle Ages and the beginning of the early modern period were the darkest times in our history," said Dumbledore as they made their way through the pedestrians of Diagon Alley. He was talking in a low voice so as to not attract too much attention and Ed had to listen carefully to understand the story.

After pausing a moment to sidestep a flock of children, the Headmaster continued patiently. "It was during these days that the four founders of Hogwarts came together and decided to start a school in the high mountains of the newly created Kingdom of Scotland, too. Far away from the hunts, the young witches and wizards would be able to learn about their own culture, that it was not a crime to be who they were and how to defend themselves in order to survive. Instead of each one fighting on their own, the combined knowledge granted us a chance for the future.

"All in all, the wizarding community shied away from the open confrontation. It decided to retreat from the commoners and reduce contact as much as possible. It may seem to you as though we are cowards," Dumbledore added, misreading Ed's frown for a sign of disapproval, "but we gained a lot from that decision. Pestilence was never such a big issue among witches and wizards and our protective shields saved us from the Great Fire of 1666 as well."

There was a moment of silence between the two, before Edward decided to ask, "Do you think that things have changed? If you were to go out there and tell the world that magic exists, that is has in fact been around for millennia, do you think they would start to hunt you again?"

He looked up to see Dumbledore gazing into the distance without any focus, bushy, white brows furrowed in contemplation. The old man slowly came to a halt, automatically stopping his walk right outside of Ollivander's, and turned around to face him.

"I'm afraid that I don't have an answer to that, Mister Elric," he sighed. "A single human is clever, a group of humans, however... We are generally afraid of what we either don't know or don't understand. Unfortunately, for most people out there magic would belong to both categories. Maybe they would see us as a threat. Maybe they would only see us as useful and integrate us to their culture. I don't know, really. Witches and wizards living apart from Muggles is simply the way things have been ever since, I suppose," he trailed off uncertainly. But with a final glance at Edward, his mouth turned into friendly smile that had abandoned his face with Ed's question and his eyes reclaimed their standard twinkle.

"Had been, until today," Dumbledore added with a playful wink. "Of course, today, there are Muggle-born witches and wizards that live in both societies as well. This is alright as long as they abide by our rules. A witch or a wizard may enter the non-magical society just fine. It is the other way 'round that is prohibited."

Usually, thought Edward, and so long as they don't agree to the Unbreakable Vow.

The front of Ollivander's Wand Shop was indeed very old, Ed noticed as his attention shifted from the wizard to the building right next to him, but not as run down as the appearance of the Leaky Cauldron when viewed from the non-magical part of the city. All of the windows were still intact. The golden letters portraying 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine wands since 382 B.C.' had once been of high quality, but were now slowly peeling off the surface. The shop windows on either side of the wooden door were empty, except for the spider webs and the dust that had collected on and around the single, crimson cushion, displaying a solitary, dark-wooden wand.

You probably don't need too much attention catching decoration once you have been around long enough to practically become an institution, Ed thought.

He looked uncertainly at the old wizard standing to his right. Dumbledore motioned for him to enter the shop and with a decisive step forward, he complied.

A merry tingle rang through the room upon their entrance, but apart from that, the only distinguishable sounds came from the soft rustle of their clothes. The room itself was rather small, narrow and unspectacular if one didn't count in the masses of slim boxes. They were neatly stacked in the shelves that stretched along each available surface of wall. There must be hundreds, Ed mused as his eyes traced the boxes up the nearest shelf towards the ceiling, if not more.

He couldn't be too sure. The light of the sun had a hard time finding gaps in the heavy clouds that had settled above London and shining through the small, dusty windows. The narrow layout didn't help much in determining how far into the back the room reached, either. From somewhere in the back, Edward could now hear the light shuffling of feet drawing near. "I'm coming!" called a voice and mere moments later, a figure came into sight. Mr. Ollivander was old, but not as old as Dumbledore – never as old as Dumbledore – and had light grey eyes and very pale skin.

Ollivander's face was friendly, but not overly so, as Dumbledore introduced them.

"So, Mister Elric," started the wand master, "Professor Dumbledore has told me that you want to learn the art of wandlore."

The man's scrutinizing gaze was directed solely on Ed, who had to fight down the urge to shift uncomfortably. It looked like he was searching for something in Ed's face, but couldn't find it and Ed, himself, couldn't help but wonder what it may be. "That's correct, Mister Ollivander."

The man merely nodded it off. "I'm intrigued that you have come to me to learn this profession. I have an outstanding memory of each and every wand I have sold, and of the person that went with it. So far, it has not failed me once. You have never bought a wand from me, I'm sure of this. A face like yours is not one that is easily forgotten." He frowned.

Ed just knew he should have worn his sunglasses. But no, genius that he was, he just had to forget them in his room. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, though, he mused, if what he said about his memory is correct.

"You are right, I didn't," he conceded at last and knew it was the 'wrong' answer even though the man had probably been expecting it.

Ollivander took a step in his direction and held up his hand. "May I see it?"

It wasn't a real question. It was a demand, the tone made it clear. However, Ed had no idea what he was demanding.

"... See what?"

Wrong answer once again, Ed realized as the grey eyes blinked and wondered briefly if he had already messed up enough to negate any possibilities of becoming this man's apprentice.

Ollivander took a moment to get over his initial surprise and started to explain. "Your wand, Mister Elric. A wand says more about a person than you can probably imagine. About their character, their ambitions, their future, their heart. The wand a wizard gets is never coincidental. It also says a lot about the person who crafted it. As this person wasn't me, I need to see it."

Edward blinked. He had already given two wrong answers and he knew he didn't have the right one to that either.

Well, crap.

"I... uhm... don't have a wand."

"You..." started Ollivander but stopped short. Taking a step away from him, he let his hand drop back to his side and recomposed himself. "Then at least tell me the materials that had been used and what happened to it. Did you lose it? Did you break it? Did someone else break it because of something you did?"

"Uhm, neither. Actually, I've never owned a wand, Mister Ollivander."

The wand maker was silent for a long time, contemplating what he just heard. "You have never owned a wand," he repeated more to himself rather than anyone else. His eyes travelled up and down Ed's form as if he was an alien, before it switched to the sitting form of Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster had sat down upon the only available chair after finishing their introductions and had not said a single word ever since. He sat, silently, and gazed right back at his old friend.

He's enjoying the show. And as much as this had irritated him during his first encounter with Eve, this time, it was a chance.

"Mister Ollivander," Ed started as he decided to take the conversation in his own hands, "please hear me out." And the attention shifted back to him once again.

"I grew up in a small village in a foreign country. Things are... different there, I suppose. We don't have wand makers and only very few wands. Only two, actually. And as I'm sure you are aware, those won't hold forever."

The wand maker contemplated this. "I was not aware that there were still villages that had such a severe lack of ressources, Mister Elric. I apologize for not considering this. If the only thing that's missing is a wand, however, then I've got plenty of them here." He smiled gently. "Should we try to find yours?"

"They won't work with me," Ed confessed and tried to gauge Ollivander's reaction. He had expected the old man to be confused or maybe to become suspicious. But none of that was the case.

The old man, however, was... slightly affronted?

"Oh, we'll see about that," he said. And he squared his shoulders. "I can tell you that never in the history of Ollivander's Wand Shop has a wizard or a witch left the shop without the wand that matched them perfectly. I don't see why today would be any different."

Ollivander then put his right hand into one of the many pockets of his brown wizard robe and pulled out a measuring tape with a silver scale. "Which is your wand arm?"

Ed raised an arm on autopilot and was glad to have chosen his left, when he felt the glove being tugged off. There was fire in Ollivander's eyes as he measured its length, the size of his hand, his height and various other distances that just refused to make sense in Ed's understanding. Halfway through the examination, the wand maker let go off his animated instrument and hurried to a shelf on the right side of the room. It took him a moment to find the exact box that he wanted, eyes roaming fast over the small paper badges stuck to the front, but he came back just as the measure tape stopped its task. He absentmindedly put the tool back into his robes, but all his concentration was focused on the small box in his hands. He opened it once he was in front of Edward as if it held a sacred object.

"Birch wood, 11 inches, dragon heartstring core. Here, take it!" he rambled off and held out the light wooden stick for Edward to take.

He took it in his left hand and spared a moment to study the curved handle, before it was yanked out of his grasp again. "Not the right one!" In an instant, Ollivander was back, this time holding an inconspicuous brown stick in his hands.

"Oak tree, 10 ½ inches, phoenix feather core."

Nothing happened.

"Holly, 12 inches, with the core of a dragon heartstring."

Nothing.

"Mahogany, 9 ¾ inches, unicorn tail hair!"

Nothing.

...

By now it had already been twenty unsuccessful tries and Ed was at his wit's end. Ollivander, it seemed, enjoyed this a lot, though. "The harder the challenge, the better," he had mumbled as he took back the willow wand that Ed had been holding before and rushed to get the next one. Edward was glad that the other's mood had improved wand by wand, but he wasn't sure just how many combinations of wood, length and core there were. The boxes around him made it a little easier to estimate, though, but if Ollivander wanted to try all of them, he was doomed.

He cast a quick questioning glance behind him to confirm that Dumbledore was still very much enjoying the show before his attention was grabbed by the wand maker again.

"Pear wood, 11 inches, phoenix feather core."

Ed waved it like he had been instructed to at one point.

Still nothing. It wasn't until they had unsuccessfully tried one fifth of the store's wands that Ollivander began to get doubts. He hesitated longer before deciding on the next wand and fidgeted slightly when Ed took it into his hands. After another wand made of oak wood, this time with a dragon heartstring as a core, his shoulders slumped down. With furrowed eyebrows he gazed at Edward wonderingly.

"Say, Mister Elric," he started as he slowly put the wand back into its box, "can you tell me a little more about the customs of your village? You were very certain when you said my wands wouldn't work with you. Why did you say that? As I said earlier, this has to be the first time that the wands failed."

He asks now? After we spent nearly two hours trying wands?

Forcing down his incredulity, Edward answered. "It's what the elders told me and so far, my observations can support it." He glanced pointedly at the last of the unsuccessful wands of which Ollivander was still holding the box in his hand. With a wave of the elder's own wand, it disappeared to the place in the back where he had brought it from.

He turned back to face Ed. "But how do you do magic, then, if not by wands?" Ollivander seemed genuinely intrigued, but Ed thought he had seen a glimpse of suspicion in the other's grey eyes.

"We've learned to harness the energies with our hands," Ed explained, trying his hardest not to fidget too much. It was as near to the truth as he could get without giving too much away. "Successes are varying, of course, so we try to minimize mistakes by specializing in certain areas."

The wand maker nodded. "Can you give examples?"

"Uhm... A friend of mine can create and control flames with a snap of his fingers. Others have specialized in medical areas or long-distance Transfigurations. Most, however, never get that far." He sighed. "They manage to get minimalistic reactions, yes, but it's a lot easier to learn magic by using a wand as an amplifier than to learn it completely wandless from the beginning."

As he said this, he could see Dumbledore leaning forward in interest from the corners of his eyes.

"That is interesting," Ollivander mused, "very interesting indeed. Please don't feel insulted, Mister Elric, but I must admit that, for a second, I thought you may not even be a wizard. You know, considering how none of my wands reacted to you in even the slightest of ways... Funny that, huh?" He chuckled slightly at his joke, but Ed didn't feel like joining in. "Anyway," he continued, "what is your specialization, if I may ask?"

Funny? There's nothing funny about him nearly finding me out after I made that stupid vow only one week ago!

But now was not the time for panicking. Or hyperventilating, he thought as he tried to level out his breathing.

"Short-distance Transfigurations," Ed responded after a moment, glad that the sings of suspicions in Ollivander's gaze hadn't intensified.

"Could you maybe show me?"

Ed blinked. … 'Show' him? Can I even show him? He wasn't too sure.

He turned a slightly anxious look in Dumbledore's direction and rose his eyebrows in a questioning way. The professor was startled by the sudden attention but caught himself quickly, leaning back in the process. "Yes," he said and smiled reassuringly, "that's something I'd like to see as well."

Very well, thought the alchemist, so it doesn't interfere with the vow, even though Ollivander already suspects me. He started to search the room for possibly suited materials. There wasn't much to go off on, really. The chair was still occupied and he wouldn't dare to transmute the wands. Apart from that, though... His gaze fell on the floor. This will have to do, I guess.

"Mister Ollivander? Could you maybe step back a little?" he asked and added a, "Thank you." when the wizard had stepped back to give him room. In a swift, fluid motion that spoke of years of practice, Edward knelt down on the floor and put the palms of his hands – the right one as gloved as always, the other still without the familiar fabric – together in a praying motion. But he didn't exaggerate the action as he usually did. To the other two, it would seem as though he was merely taking a moment to think of what exactly to do and this was what he intended. The less they know about alchemy, the better.

Once the moment was over, he gently placed his hands on the old, polished floor boards and started the transmutation. Electric blue light spread through the shop and reflected off of the windows behind him, casting an eerie glow over wand boxes and humans alike. It concentrated in a spherical shape in the middle of the room as Ed willed the energies to deconstruct the wood, shape it to his liking and only cut the flow once he was satisfied with his artwork.

Mere moments after it began, the blue light ebbed away again. In its wake, a circular emblem of around two meters was revealed. The outlines of the circle as well as those of the three magical creatures intertwining inside were embedded into the ground. Ed hadn't fancied the ingraining, but he had needed the spare materials to create the three dimensional relief.

The dragon was on the right side, the long, pointed horns marking him as a Swedish Short-Snout. It was crouched like a cat that was ready to attack, keeping low to the floor with its tail risen in a seemingly lazy swing. The most impressive piece was the eyes. They were alert and real – and staring right back at Ed. He shuddered. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to be this realistic? His gaze switched to the unicorn. It stood tall and proud as it dominated the whole left side of the picture, head tilted to the right and showing off a single, sharp horn. Above them, the phoenix spread its wings, embracing them to complete the trio. (3)

Satisfied with his work, Edward easily rose to his feet again and looked at Ollivander expectantly.

"Well?" he asked and didn't get disappointed. The wand maker slowly made his way around the relief to look at it from the new angle.

He stood there for a moment, marvelling at the work, before he nodded once. "This is beautiful, Mister Elric. Thank you. And it is amazing as well: no incantation, no wand and still so many details. I feel as if I can see every hair of the unicorn and every scale of the dragon." He straightened up again. At this point, Ed knew that he nearly had him. He may not have wanted an apprentice at the beginning, but he wasn't about to take chances with his brother's future.

"So, is it only your village that has this problem? Maybe someone from another village could come to live with you and teach you how to work with wands. I must assume that the others from your village have got as much potential, so maybe -"

"No, it's our entire country as well as those neighbouring," interrupted Ed. "That's why it's important for me to find out how to create wands that work with us."

"It would be easy if we had one of those that are currently being used," mused Ollivander thoughtfully. "Now, we'll have to start at the beginning. Why didn't you bring one of them? It would have made things easier... and more interesting."

Very good question... Why indeed?

"We can hardly spare them," Ed decided at last. "It is true that some specialized in medical areas, but the really complex spells all require a wand. And we never know how long the two we currently have will last. Even taking one away could be fatal. What if the other stopped working right then and there?"

And just like that, Ollivander was out of arguments. He hadn't really made an effort after having seen the demonstration, but then again he had probably been set on declining Ed's application as well. He seemed a little miffed that some other wand maker had apparently achieved a skill that he, himself, still lacked, but to Ed it looked like the main reason he had been accepted as an apprentice was so that Ollivander, himself, could improve his artistry.

They left the shop fifteen minutes later, after Ed had been returned his missing glove and after they had settled Ed's working table. After the final discussion regarding the first steps of his apprenticeship, they had bid their good-byes. By now, Edward didn't even care that Dumbledore was highly amused by the whole affair and that he kept chuckling over the huge grin that threatened to split Ed's face.

No more books, Ed thought euphorically. Not that I dislike books or anything, but apart from the last week, the two months before were an overload. But wandlore is passed on verbally! Granted, learning about woods was not the most challenging or interesting activity, but from what his new teacher had explained, wandlore didn't seem to be that different from alchemy. Study the components down to their last detail, memorize them and learn what is created upon arranging them together in different ways. He didn't yet have an idea, as to how he would be able to use one, but the first step was done. As an added bonus, he had managed to convince Ollivander to call him by his first name. Could the day get any better?

"Mister Elric?" Dumbledore just had to tear him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the wizard quizzically.

"I have made arrangements for a place for you to stay at. What do you say if we go to the Leaky Cauldron for a very late lunch, get your luggage and then head over?"

Ed blinked. He had totally forgotten about that. Not that it mattered anymore anyway, seeing as the Headmaster had already taken expert care once again.

He nodded. "Sounds good to me, Professor."

They continued on in companionable silence until Dumbledore decided to speak up again. "It also seems like I shouldn't have worried so much about you slipping up," he twinkled down at him.

"You are an incredibly good liar, Mister Elric."

"That's not really a compliment, Professor," he scowled. Just because he was getting better at it every day that he spent in this country didn't mean that he actually liked lying.

And if the content smile that formed on Dumbledore's face upon hearing his comment was anything to go by, then at least this answer wasn't the wrong one.

Author's Notes:

Thanks yet again for reading and special thanks for reading the story even if updates take some time! :) I can count the readers caring about the speed of updates on one hand (without using all my fingers), though, so the update rhythm will stay the same.

So, I'll definitely have to rewrite this one day. I do like the original idea behind it, Ed getting an overload of what wizards are like and going to cool off in Muggle-London and so on, but I think I did a bad job with it. And with Ollivander. Hn! :/ Which is why it took me so long. At least the beginning of next chapter seems to have the usual pace, so I hope it's just a one-time-thing.

If you've got any ideas on why this chapter sounds off, especially the first half, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'm quite lost on this one.

And I've got no idea where the shops I named are, so if their order or location inside the alley didn't make sense, sorry. And I don't know about house-elves being allowed inside shops or not, either, but it felt like a thing wizards like the Malfoy's would pay attention to.

(Number)-Time:

(1) Ashwinder & Co.

Unknown to Ed, the first and foremost reason to freeze Ashwinder eggs is so that they don't ignite the house the were laid in. Being able to create a Love Potion out of them is only an added bonus.

(2) Glass-pane buildings in London

So, there's a really funny thing that happened in London and I thought I'd just share the story. An architect planned a building with a curved front and had it all be done with glass panes. As a result, not only did the carpet inside get a couple of nice, dark burn marks, but on the street below, you could (or probably can) actually fry eggs if you put the pan at the right place. It may have looked nice, but I guess he may have done better if he had paid attention to physics in school and how to calculate focal points.

(3) Ed's knowledge on magical creatures

In case you were wondering, he read a beginner's book on wandlore and a book on magical creatures while he was in the library. The Baron thought he had picked them randomly (which he did), but that doesn't mean that I just picked random titles for him to read. There are some red herrings among those, but not many, as they were originally meant for you guys as hints as to what could happen. I won't point back to the library non-stop in the text, though; that would be too repetitive, so this will probably be the last time that I mention it.

Thanks for reading once again and please consider to leave a review! :D Your feedback on the descriptions helped me a lot!

See you, hopefully, in the next chapter:

Chapter 7: Barking Dogs Never Bite?!