A/N: Err... Sorry. Hogwarts might be a little while in coming. I got a fairly nice subplot cooked up sometime between the posting of that last chapter and now and it may push back the number of chapters to Hogwarts. However, on the bright side, things will finally be happening! And these 10 months will be much more productive for the Elric Brothers, rather than waiting in suspended nothingness while the author has no idea what to do with them. Also, I'm really really sorry about how long it took to get this chapter out. I wrote the first half of it practically the day after I posted the last chapter, and then I got... stuck. And I feel like the quality deteriorated a bit too, but it might just be the level of writing the entire story, and the premise that it was based on makes it a bit difficult for me. Hopefully next chapter will be easier, fresh start. (Wowa, sorry, somehow comments from my brother in Gdocs got added to this... anybody who read this before must've thought I was crazy, talking to myself O.O)

Tom's character is becoming a bit... difficult for me. It's been so long, and since I sort of made up his voice and a lot of his history, his speech pattern and personality isn't so set in my brain and it might fluctuate a bit. If you catch any of that, letting me know would be awesome.

Hey, we reached over 50 reviews and over 150 followers on this story! Thank you, everybody! :)

Guest: Thanks :) Yeah, I've always had a soft spot for her too. Wait, how did you know what I was typing into this chapter before I even posted it?

Guest2: Err... yes. I did say this is post-CoS. Unfortunately, the use of this specific acronym is actually very problematic in the HP/FMA crossover... Observe. Conqueror of Shamballa (the movie). Chamber of Secrets. I was referring to the first one. Sorry about the confusion, but there's a word count on the summary :/ This story actually starts a little before the first book of the Harry Potter series.

Wonderfully Nefarious Things
Phase 10.

"The Golden Dawn?" she repeated, trying the words in her mouth. It sounded vaguely familiar… "Oh!" She snapped her fingers, as the realization came to her. "You mean that incident last Halloween, when someone spilled the beans to all those muggles?"

She remembered that. It had caused a lot of trouble, all the aurors and Ministry officials scampering around to get the mess cleaned up. She too had her part in fixing it, sending letters to worried parents, to any of the wizards involved, and even to some teens who had suddenly taken it upon themselves to "help out." She had heard all kinds of rumors about that day – that they had opened some kind of gate to another world, that a suit of armor had been the mastermind behind it all, and even something about a muggle and a cat – but also knew that the true perpetrator had been neither confirmed or found. And if she aligned the facts with what these boys seemed to be suggesting, and how a seemingly innocent man had apparently gone chaotic and attacked them...

She would discover something absolutely preposterous.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she said, "Are you proposing that Moralt Bulstrode was somehow involved in this incident?"

The older boy snorted.

"Involved?" He made the word sound diminutive, scandalously wrong. "He was the guy who orchestrated the whole thing."

Mafalda Hopkirk made a noncommittal noise that could have been interpreted as a squeak of excitement, or even of terror.

"A damn right bastard." He sounded irrationally pleased with himself. "Even went right up in my face, asking me if the circle was right," he mocked, a sneer on his face. He was not the innocent boy – not that he had ever seemed to be innocent, now that she thought about it – she had initially presumed he was. "And then Noah – Noah!"

She was briefly surprised at the emotion that crossed his face. He leaned in.

"Hey, have you ever seen a tall gypsy girl around? Black hair, brown eyes? Pretty?" She heard a snicker from the younger boy, and Edward shot him an annoyed glance. "Well?"

Mafalda struggled to keep her voice neutral. "No, I haven't heard of a tall gypsy girl. If you want, I could ask around. What's her name?"

"Noah."

"No surname?"

"That's right." She frowned, but briefly scribbled it on a paper, and send the query to her supervisor's office. The two boys watched the flying paper airplane go, wide-eyed.

"So what's this you say about Bulstrode? Do you have any proof to back this accusation?" she asked, ignoring the airplane. Like a caught fishnet, he brothers' attention soon returned to her.

"Proof?" Edward said incredulously. "He attacked us!"

"That doesn't mean he has any ties to the Golden Dawn incident." Once again, her voice was level, emotionless. It was a change from her earlier peppy self, when she had first met them. Usually, she would be kinder, but at the moment, she was tired, she was confused, and even this latest bit of gossip they were offering her wasn't enough to entice her to wakefulness. Besides, these kids weren't even trying to be decent to her – she had seen it all before, arrogant snobby brats who thought they could take advantage of her. Well, right now she didn't have the patience for it.

"What if we can get proof?" Her head shot up, and she blinked at the younger one.

"Get proof?" she repeated dimly. In the back of her mind, there was a strange buzz of excitement that had been extinguished moments before. If she could prove something like that, she would be able to get a promotion. Something as scandalous as discovering who was behind the "incident" last year...

No. She pushed the thought away. Such glory-seeking would do nothing for her.

"Of course." Alphonse smiled pleasantly. "We would hardly accuse someone of this without proof, would we?"

"No..." she said slowly, still staring. Her gaze flickered to the older one's smug expression. What were they planning? "I suppose not."

"Then would you mind giving us a rulebook?" Edward joined in. The smug smile had grown into an all-out grin. She felt as if she were being attacked on two fronts, both brothers joining in to bring her down. "It'll take a few days before we'll be able to show you, and we need to know all the rules before then." Hesitantly, she reached into a drawer and pulled out her personal copy, tentatively shoving it across the table. Edward grabbed it smoothly, that same damned grin still on his face. She felt a strong feel of foreboding.

"I – I'm afraid that I'm not the actual authority on these cases," she stammered, feeling as if she shouldn't be admitting this, as if she shouldn't give up any edge possible against these two boys. "You'll have to go to someone else higher up to actually charge him with the crimes that you claim he committed. Although," she paused to consider, "he will likely be charged for attacking you two. That, at least, we have on record."

The two boys nodded, as if it were only to be expected. She continued smoothly, suddenly feeling in control once more.

"However, there is a matter that I can take care of for you." She smiled pleasantly, the cheery attitude appearing once more. "We need to discuss Hogwarts."

Upon hearing the two identical groans, she wondered why she had ever thought them more than just two normal, albeit slightly unnerving, teenagers.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

After having filled their heads with information about Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, the Ministry, and all other things magical, the two brothers were finally heading towards the Leaky Cauldron. To Tom, who they had been intending to meet hours before, but had been thwarted by Bulstrode and then the Ministry. That had been unfortunate, but now they were in a much better position of understanding and had more knowledge to base their decisions on. Mrs. Hopkirk had been all to happy to chatter on about the Wizarding World, after she had once more warmed up to them.

Then there was the law book they now carried. Ed carried it lightly tucked in between his fingers, almost with reverence. This was the tool he was going to use for his future exploits. In this book, there was the knowledge that he and his brother would need to begin changing this world.

To begin changing this world, and also to bring Bulstrode to justice.

"So, Al," he said almost cheerily as he walked. "What was that plan that you were talking about earlier?"

"I have no idea," Al replied, just as cheerily.

Ed stopped walking, and stared at his little brother in disbelief.

"You have no idea," he repeated.

"No idea," Al agreed with a smile, not at all looking concerned.

Ed sighed.

"Well, it was a good bluff," he offered. "It'll buy us some time at least to get this 'proof.'"

"Exactly." Al smiled and pranced over the rest of the short way to the Leaky Cauldron, pulling the door open graciously. "Besides," he grinned mischievously, "We're celebrating the good old times, right?" Ed felt his own grin forming, even as he slowly entered the comforting atmosphere of Tom's pub.

"Breaking and entering, huh? You're right, that's exactly like the good old times."

He savored the shocked expression on his little brother's face.

"That's not what I meant!" he protested.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved his hand carelessly at Al. "Of course it's not."

But then, a voice who was distinctly not Al's spoke up. "Breaking and entering?" It was Tom, with that damning eyebrow lifted up high.

Ed gulped.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," he said. The man leaned forward.

"Nevertheless, I did hear that." Again, the eyebrow. "So what exactly were you talking about? Breaking and entering?"

Ed studied the man's face intently, gold eyes flickering back and forth. He stopped on the crooked smile on the man's face, and considered, head tilting to the side as he looked at Tom curiously. There was now a lackadaisical smile on his face.

"What would you do if I said I wanted to change this world?" he said, and Tom guffawed.

"Change this world?" The man's eyes turned serious, and the laughter cut off suddenly. "You can't do anything if you think like that."

Ed's smile widened.

"So you'll help?"

"I never said that." His voice was unusually sharp for the friendly barkeeper, and Ed sobered quickly at it. Beside him, he felt Al also stiffening.

"Yeah?" Ed tossed carelessly, trying not to let his hurt show. "So you like it when these purebloods step on us muggles?"

"You're not a muggle," Tom said carefully.

Ed met his dark brown eyes.

"I know." With light fingers and the utmost respect, Ed lifted the Ministry's book from his side and set it heavily into Tom's hands. "This is a law book from the Ministry."

Tom skeptically flipped open the cover, and leafed through the paper. When he had gotten to the back cover, he sighed and snapped it shut.

"Let's talk somewhere else."

"Alright," Ed agreed easily.

The balding man took them once again to the back, to the familiar location of the sink, still filled with dishes. Ed frowned when he saw a broken plate off to the side of the sink. Why was that there?

Al seemed to have noticed too, shooting a worried glance at it, before a look of understanding crossed his face.

"I'm sorry about that, Tom," he began earnestly, and Ed marveled at how Tom's wary expression changed so drastically with these few words from his little brother. His face softened, when Ed hadn't even noticed how drawn out it had been, and some color returned to his cheeks. "Brother just doesn't know his own strength sometimes."

Ed shot him a startled look, then turned wide eyes back to the broken dish, seeming so insignificant beforehand. He had done that? But he didn't even...

Oh. Of course. It was when Al had told him Izumi was dead. His flesh hand went automatically to grip his hard automail left, a fact that was not lost on Tom judging by the thoughtful expression on the man's face.

"I'm sorry," he said, somewhat bewildered. "I hadn't even noticed... It was just..." He shook his head and regained the dignity proper for the title of Fullmetal Alchemist. Bowing slightly, he met the bartender's eyes directly. "I can fix it for you if you want."

And a second later wished he could take back his words. What the heck was he thinking? Alchemy didn't exist in this world. Without it, he couldn't fix anything even if he used duct tape and glue.

To his relief, the man laughed and waved his offer away. "You? A few days ago, you didn't even believe in magic. I doubt you know any repair spells."

Ed opened his mouth to make a hasty retort, but then snapped it shut as he considered the merit of the words. Especially the last part. Repair spells. That would be useful. It'd be like having alchemy all over again.

That thought sent a strange pang running through him, so he changed the topic, remembering what they had come back here for.

"Can I have my book back?" Tom had been holding it throughout the entire conversation, and he looked dimly surprised to have it pointed out to him. Or maybe that was simply from the rapid topic change.

Almost reluctantly, the man handed it over and Ed snatched it out of his fingers, perhaps a bit too roughly. When he looked back up from the book, he found the wary look back in the bartender's eyes.

"So how exactly are you planning on changing our world?" he asked. Much to the man's surprise, it was Al who answered, rather than Ed, speaking with conviction.

"Don't you see all the bad that's going on in this society?" the thirteen year old boy said, hazel eyes ablaze. "The prejudice against muggles, the idea of 'blood purity'... Even within a society where everybody has the power to protect themselves, the power is abused to harm others. And..." The younger brother only paused for a moment to give Ed a considering glance before plowing onward, "the fact that wizards attacked another world, murdering hundreds of innocent civilians, was covered up."

Ed jerked upright as if pulled by puppet strings. He gaped at Al.

No. They had agreed not to tell anyone. Why would Al betray that promise now?

... But with a sinking heart, he felt that he knew. The Shamballa incident had been harder on Al than it had been for him. Seeing that child's corpse, broken toy strung out carelessly by the wartorn houses – Al hadn't faced death in that way in his blissful returned childhood, remembering nothing of the horrors he had seen with his older brother beside him. Along with his memories came the confidence and determination to change things, and hadn't Ed himself said that now was the time to change the world for the better? Writing this wrong that had been done to them seemed to be the only reasonable place to start.

"Alphonse..." he began with a strained voice, but Tom spoke over him.

"What are you talking about?" And for nearly the first time, the man's sole focus was on the younger brother, someone who he would see as a child.

"We know it as the Shamballa incident," Al said with uncharacteristic intensity. "It relates to the Golden Dawn." Ed felt numb as he watched another part of his life fall apart.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed, as if trying to remember, but then shook his head. "I don't... I don't believe I recognize the name."

And then suddenly, it was all anger that he felt.

"And you shouldn't, since it's none of your goddamn business." He gripped his book tighter and glared at all. "You promised, Al." His little brother had the decency to look ashamed, but more prominent was the anger sending a dark furious blush to his face. Ed already regretted the words, because he understood, really, he did, but at the moment he felt too hurt to care.

So he turned sharply on his heel and left.

It wasn't his proudest moment. They had had their arguments in Amestris too, but always, always, they were alone. Always, they knew they had each other. And always, they knew the other would be safe no matter what happened, because they could take care of themselves. But in this world, they were as helpless as lost lambs, unable to perform alchemy and barely even novices in magic, and that was being generous. Martial arts didn't matter as much when guns were commonplace, and in this wizarding world, a long-ranged "hex" could do the deed just as easily. And Al appeared to be a weak child, in a body many years younger than his intellect.

None of this crossed Edward's mind as he marched out of the Leaky Cauldron. He was fuming, and his mind only recognized the fact that yes, this has happened before, and every time before, they had always gotten out of it together.

Ed didn't go back to the house. He wandered the city, hands stuffed into his pockets like a sulking child. His thoughts turned in circles, wondering whywhywhy even while already knowing the answer. Slowly, the anger and hurt faded into frustration, and then finally irritation.

It was then that he realized that he was only a few blocks away from his workplace, and since he hadn't gone in a few days, it would probably be good to let his boss know he was still alive. And get some things done. And hopefully...

No, he wouldn't think about that now. Magic. Witches. The Golden Dawn. Al. There was already too much crap on his plate already.

The very thought made him feel guilty, but he steadfastly squashed it down and headed over to his job.

Mary Anne, his work partner, was the first to greet him, a comical expression of surprise filling her face.

"You're alive!" she said, then grinned seditiously. "You know, we were wondering about you for a while."

Ed felt another surge of irritation, before he sighed and pulled his coat off, draping it over his chair.

"Look, I just want to work right now. Things came up."

Mock amusement.

"You came to work in order to get a break? Wow, must be hard at home." And there was something there, something seemingly so innocent that he had to stare at her for nearly a minute. The implication of the words was not lost on him.

"Look," he said forcefully, a frown marring his face. "I really don't want to deal with this right now."

She blinked innocently.

"Sorry?" A confused grin twisted her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

Ed nearly growled, but instead plastered on a smile.

"Ah, no," he said, his own too-fake voice grating on his nerves. "It's just been one of those days, you know?" Thankfully, she seemed satisfied with that, and Ed began booting up his computer. Think engineering, engineering... he told himself obstinately. What was that last project I was working on? It seemed too long ago to even contemplate.

"So how's your little brother doing?" Mary Anne's voice intruded on his thoughts, far too casually.

He stood up and left.