A/N: Alright folks, updates will be slower from here on out. This is my last pre-written chapter. More will come though! Apologies in advance for the cliffy.

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[Present]

Edward slowly woke to the sound of irritated chirping and a young boy's panicked voice. Something about an owl. Hagrid's low, lazy grumble then filled the air with a jingling of coins and the rustling of paper. Groaning slightly, Edward dragged himself up from muddled half-asleep thoughts and blinked his eyes into awareness. The souls in his stone murmured restlessly. 'Today,' they whispered, 'today is the day we will find it.'

That's right. The realization brought Edward down into a mental slump.

Flamel's stone.

As desperate as he was to get it into his possession, a fleeting feeling of trepidation filled his body. Flamel's stone was… well, the last time he had gone near it, he had never felt anything so…. horrible. It bore the very wrongness a human-animal chimera did, but strengthened a thousand fold. He shivered at the thought, choosing to shake the feeling from his mind and sit up, stiff muscles whining in protest. His arm made a faint creak. He would have to oil it again as soon as he got the chance. Blasted wet British weather… his limbs weren't made for the moist air. It was already hard enough to keep his automail together as old as it was. He'd been forced to rely on replacing parts with raw materials and alchemy in the hopes of making it rust less with help from the knowledge of the voices in his stone, and a little help from those he ever dared trust. A thought of soft amber eyes- far too close- to his brother's briefly filled his vision and he shook it away roughly. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.

"Good mornin'!" Hagrid greeted from around his newspaper, "did yeh sleep alrigh'?"

"Alright," Edward lied, stretching and yawning widely to get some blood flowing in his sore shoulder. At least the storm had died down in the early morning.

"Good. We should get goin' soon. Lots teh do today."

They had leftover cake for breakfast (Edward abstained as the thought of encountering the stone was making him feel rather sick, or maybe it was the storm) as they explained to Harry about wizard banks and where he would be getting his things. Edward didn't fail to notice Dudley Dursley quietly poke his head out of the other room, eyeing the cake hungrily. As soon as Dudley noticed him looking, he darted away out of sight. He shrugged, standing and dusting off his dark brown pants. "Everyone ready to go? I can apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron. No other way off of this blasted island anyway." Of course, there was the boat outside, but then the Dursleys, as unpleasant as they were, would be stranded. He wasn't that cruel.

"Apparation?" Harry asked curiously, but seemed eager when Edward took out his wand.

"Wizard word for teleportation." He explained with distaste, "An unpleasant experience, but effective. Grab my arm." He grasped Hagrid's sleeve with his right hand, and Harry grabbed his offered left arm. As he did, the unpleasant feeling of wrong in his chest amplified. He suppressed a shudder. Harry was staring at him with confused eyes. Whatever was off with this kid, he couldn't deny it now. This was not the storm. But what….

"Right, off we go. Don't let go of my arm until we've landed." Edward's voice remained steady, Hagrid oblivious to their interaction, and turned.

The ride through apparation was less pleasant than normal. He managed to keep his footing upon landing from years of practice. Harry tumbled, but his grip on Edward's arm saved him from falling on his face.

"Ugh, what was that?" Harry gasped, fixing his glasses. Edward almost sighed with relief as the kid let go of his arm. The voices in his chest roiled in discomfort. 'Unnatural,' they cried, 'Something is wrong.'

'Thanks, I knew that.' Edward grumbled in his thoughts. "Apparation." He said aloud. Behind them, Hagrid grumbled, a slight shade of green.

"Can't say I've done it much either. Feel rather seasick after tha'."

"The bar should be around the corner." With Hagrid's size, Edward hadn't wanted to apparate directly into the Three broomsticks. He didn't want the oversized man splinched or stuck in the wall somehow. Instead, they were in a dirty back alley on the muggle side of the world. Less pleasant, but more room.

Exiting the alleyway, they were met with a dreary muggle morning. Cars drove slowly down the street through the light drizzle. There were few people on the sidewalk, none of whom seemed to notice the odd-looking troupe who stumbled out of the alleyway.

"Are we in London?" A small voice spoke. Harry was staring around in wonder, taking his glasses off for a second to clean them. Edward noted they were held together with tape.

"Yeah. Not for long, though." Edward led the way down the street, ignoring the brightly colored shop windows they passed by. Harry stared at everything with wide eyes.

"Here we are," Hagrid rumbled, pointing out a ratty looking bar sandwiched between two shops. "The Leaky Cauldron. Famous place."

Edward hadn't been to the Leaky Cauldron since he had last worked at Hogwarts. He'd always tried to avoid frequenting the same places for too long. It drew too much attention. But he wasn't surprised to see that it hadn't seemed to change at all. Wizard places never did. With a quick look across the sidewalk, they ushered Harry inside.

"Hello, Hagrid! The usual?" The bartender greeted, waving hello to the large man.

"Not today, Tom. On Hogwarts business." Hagrid patted a nervous Harry on the shoulder, almost knocking him down. Tom gasped.

"Good Lord, is this- can this be?" He peered down the counter at the bespectacled boy, setting down his glass and polishing rag with shock, "Bless my soul. Harry Potter… what an honor."

The entire room went silent. Tom surged around the counter to earnestly shake the kid's hand. "Bless me… Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back." Edward pretended not to notice the tear that crept down the man's face.

"Harry Potter?" Someone whispered in the crowd of busy bar. "Heavens, it's really him!"

In the next moment, there was a flurry of movement and scooting of chairs as everyone crowded around to greet the boy.

"Alright, best not to overwhelm him- ah, well." Edward tried to step in, but was drowned out by the cacaphony of overjoyed people. He gave up quickly and tried to step back to avoid getting crushed in the suffocating crowd. The kid looked dumbstruck but alright.

He didn't fail to notice Quirrell in the surge of people. The nervous man approached Harry and shook his hand, stopping to chat for a minute or two. However, Edward missed the entire conversation as more curious and eager people bumped into his sides. He stepped back, somewhat thankful for his permanently short stature as the crowd swept past him and he was able to escape to the outskirts. He'd spent too long in the shadows now to be comfortable in the front. Attention meant a target on his back.

The meet and greet had been going on for almost ten minutes now with no end in sight, and Edward was immensely relieved when Hagrid stepped in to pull them away. "Lots teh do!" He said, holding one of them on each shoulder and dragging them through the crowd towards the side door.

Edward gasped a breath of relief at the fresh air, thankful to be out of the cramped space. He hadn't done well in crowds since-

"...Scared of his own subject- yeh doin' alright, Edward?" Hagrid was looking at him in sudden concern.

"I'm fine." Edward grimaced out of his reverie and dusted his hands on his coat, pulling out his wand. "Let's go."

Quickly, forcing his thoughts away, he tapped on the brick wall. A soft rumbling later and the bricks opened up into an archway leading down a twisting street.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." He introduced, the most famous wizarding hot spot in all of Britain." Unlike the dreary, drizzly, quiet day on the muggle side, Diagon Alley was filled with sunlight and the streets filled with people milling about and chatting. A few children chased a cat down the street and a firecracker whizzed overhead.

"We'll be getting all of your things here," Hagrid explained as they entered the street and walked past a few shops. Harry's head was whipping around comically, trying to take everything in at once. "But we need teh get your money first. Can't buy nothin' without that."

It wasn't too long before they reached the massive white building. "Gringotts!" Hagrid introduced.

"The only wizarding bank in existence," Edward added. "Never understood why there aren't any more."

"Why would there need to be? Gringotts is the most secure place in the whole world. Except maybe Hogwarts. Yeh'd be mad to try an' steal from here."

"...That wasn't my main concern," he muttered under his breath as they entered the stone walls.

"Goblins," he heard Hagrid mutter to Harry as they entered the main room. If "room" was even the word for it. Even Edward had never ceased to be amazed at how large it was. Gold-brushed forty-foot ceilings arching above them dwarfed even Hagrid in sheer size. The counter they approached was a rich mahogany also trimmed in gold. The goblin behind it had to stand on a footstool to see over the counter.

"Morning," Hagrid greeted, "We've come to take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have a key, sir?" The creature took a calculating glare at Harry over his thin spectacles. Edward tenses for another scene.

"Got it here somewhere," Hagrid rifled through his pockets, dumping moldy dog biscuits and old trinkets all over the goblin's counter and books. It turned its seedy glare to him. "Here it is!" Hagrid presented the little key. The goblin lifted it with spindly fingers.

"Yes… that seems to be in order."

"We've also come for this." Edward added, searching for the letter in his coat as Hagrid stuffed the trinkets back into his many pockets. Edward wondered when was the last time he had washed it. He handed the letter from Dumbledore to the goblin. "The object in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

"Very well…" the goblin studied the letter carefully, peering at them suspiciously. He handed the letter back to Edward with a light scowl. "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Another goblin came over.

"Take these three to Mr. Harry Potter's vault and seven hundred and thirteen."

Griphook nodded at them.

"Right this way, sirs," he said, and led them down the hall.

"What's the object in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked curiously.

"You don't need to know." Edward answered tersely.

"Hogwarts business." Hagrid added, "Can't tell yeh what. More'n me job's worth teh say the least."

"Please step inside," Griphook said in his gravelly voice. The goblin motioned them into a minecart- Hagrid with some trouble and Edward trying not to touch Harry- a lever was pulled, and they were off.

Edward had never minded the trip down into the bank. It was always an adrenaline rush. The wind whipped through his long hair and he grabbed it to avoid smacking Hagrid, who looked quite green. Harry kept asking strange questions. He marveled at the kid's fortitude. He'd only learned last night that magic was real, was kidnapped by two strangers, teleported across London, brought to some massive bank run by creepy goblins, they were speeding down a mineshaft with magical waterfalls and dragons, and he wanted to ask the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite? Hell.

"Stalactite is on the ceiling. Think they have to hang "tight" to it. Stalagmite have to be mighty to reach." He explained, eyeing Hagrid behind him and praying the man didn't lose his breakfast.

None too soon, they reached Harry's vault. "Here we are." Griphook introduced, unlocking the door. Inside glowed with mountains of coins and Harry gasped.

"All yours!" Hagrid beamed. Harry seemed dumbfounded. Edward waited outside while he and Hagrid piled coins into a bag, Hagrid explaining the currency as they did. The young boy was in awe of suddenly being handed a fortune. He came out with his bag of riches clutched in one hand and a stunned but excited expression on his face.

"Righ', vault seven hundred an' thirteen now." Nodding, the goblin led them back into the cart as dread seeped back into Edward's chest. Not knowing how he would feel seeing the stone again struck a cold nerve. But better in his hands than Nicholas'. The cart swept past a dragon and into another dark tunnel. Down, down, down. Screeching to a jarring halt, they were met with a short ledge which bore a thick metal door with no keyhole. Griphook smirked and told them to stand back as he ran a knobbly finger down its cold surface. The door dissolved before their eyes.

Any further conversation was drowned out by the loud buzzing in Edward's chest and moaning in his ears. He clutched at his chest with a stifled gasp. The screaming and begging- Truth, he'd forgotten how deafening the drowning cries were- threatening to suck him towards it as if his own stone were worth consuming as well. A cacophony of dread in his ears, Edward reached for the innocent-looking brown package on the floor with a shaking hand. A wave of sick fell over him but he swallowed it down, slipping it into the outer right pocket of his coat as quickly as he could. Relieved as the magic holding the infinite depth of his pocket seemed to cut the horrible feeling a little, he straightened and turned around to nod at the party, clasping his hands to hide the trembling in his left. Harry's eyes were burning with curiosity and nerves.

"Are you okay? What was that?" the boy asked with wide eyes.

"Nothing you need to worry about." Edward was regretting letting the kid come along for this. He should have split at the bankstand. "Let's just go."

The ride back up was uneventful on the outside, but internally Ed was fighting waves of sick just as much as Hagrid. The rickety wild ride felt muted as the terrible Stone burned a heavy weight in his pocket and chest. The magic may have cut the horrible, sucking feeling off some, but the knowledge it was still there and the restless voices churning in his chest didn't let him forget.

'Abomination!' They cried. 'Terrible curse!' 'You must bring them salvation.'

"I will try. I promise." He murmured softly.

"What did you say?" Harry asked next to him in the rushing wind. Sighing and ripped out of his reverie, he motioned to Hagrid's very green face.

"We're almost out." Harry accepted the response, distracted as they passed under a shimmering waterfall.

The end of the wild ride couldn't have come soon enough. The minute they stepped off the cart, Hagrid excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Edward alone with Harry in a corner of the oversized lobby.

Leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh, Edward closed his eyes, trying to clear out the wayward cacophony in his head enough to think.

'Wretched, sinful, plague of souls!' They howled.

'...I know.' Edward told them, 'Please… don't make it worse. I will set them free.' His stone roiled in discontent, quieting slightly. A few voices tried to comfort.

"..ric? Uh... Professor?" a tentative hand waved in front of his eyes. He blinked and looked down at Harry's large worried green eyes.

"What?" he snapped. Harry looked taken aback.

"Are you really okay…? Should you sit down? You're kind of pale..." the boy scuffed his feet nervously. Edward sighed heavily.

"I'll be fine. Hagrid's right there anyway." he pointed at the oversized man heading toward them. Why did they have to take the kid to the bank with them? Dammit.

"Alrigh' there you two?" Hagrid asked. The man still looked a bit green, but he was standing somewhat straighter. Edward nodded.

"I'm going to head back with this, if you're good from here," Patting his pocket, Edward ignored Harry's burning curiosity.

"Righ'! Of course. Best not keep Dumbledore waiting." Hagrid nodded. He patted Harry on the back. "Professor Elric's got some other errands teh do. Ready to do yer shopping?"

"Oh, uh, yes!"

Edward said his goodbyes to Hagrid and Harry, watching them head down the street toward Madam Malkin's, Harry excitedly cradling his bag of coins. He wasn't sure about the boy yet… there was something a little too… calculated about him.

I must be losing it in my old age, he sighed to himself. ...The kid was only eleven. But still…

'He hasn't done anything yet,' one of the voices in the stone muttered. 'But something's wrong.'

'We have bigger problems.' another countered.

"I know." Edward resisted the urge to paw at his face, instead grasping the loathed wand in his left pocket and turning on the spot.

Roughly an hour later found Edward standing outside of Dumbledore's office, pacing agitatedly as he prepared himself to go inside. Should he even hand off the Stone now? It was, technically, part of his contract… but Albus hadn't made him make an Unbreakable Vow, just simply sign some traditional paperwork. There was always the risk that the paperwork could have been enchanted with something, of course…

Through the journey home, Edward hadn't even dared to remove the Stone from its measly paper wrapping. He didn't need to open it to know that it was… it, but the memory of the damned thing struck both his curiosity and his horror. Although, even now, the abomination in his pocket continued to affect him and his Stone; roiling and filling them with a terrible feeling. He knew he couldn't hold onto it forever by himself. It would drive him mad. But what was another option? Hiding it in the middle of nowhere somewhere far away? Not while Flamel and all of Hogwarts were holding a proverbial target over his head. Curse Albus and his plans.

"...Fiddlesticks." he finally spoke aloud. The office opened.

Albus sat calmly at his desk, fingers interlaced as he discussed with his portraits. The animated paintings immediately quieted as Edward's heavy steel-toed boots clomped across the wooden floor. Albus turned to greet him.

"Ah, Edward. I was expecting you would arrive soon." A smile crept across the old man's face. Edward scowled. "Lemon drop?"

"Save your pleasantries." Edward met the elderly wizard at the desk with a scowl. "I have the Stone. What I do not have is the knowledge of exactly what you are planning on doing with it."

"Straight to the point as always, Edmund…" Dumbledore sighed.

"You sound disappointed."

"I think it wouldn't hurt to slow down and enjoy your life a little, instead of always rushing from one thing to the next," Albus responded, leaning back in his chair.

"If you think I've never tried slowing down, then I must be older than you think," Edward folded his arms, "I've dilly dallied far too long in my life. You could say I've run out of patience."

"I see..." With another sigh, Albus stood. "Then, I have something to show you. However, since you arrived so early, I fear it may still be being prepared."

Albus led them through the castle, down to a corridor that was musty and covered in dust. Soft light glowed out of a single classroom door. Albus stepped inside, and Edward after.

In the room they were met with a glowing orb casting sharp shadows on everything inside. The furniture looked grey, covered in sheets and dust protectors as they were. Right in the middle stood a tall mysterious piece covered in a white cloth. And standing in front of it, hands contemplatingly on his hips, stood an eerily familiar figure that stopped Edward dead in his tracks.

"Good evening," Albus greeted merrily.

"Evening, Albus." with a pleasant nod toward the man, he turned to gaze at Edward, holding out a familiar roughened hand. "And you, Edward. It is truly good to see you again."

Edward couldn't move. He ignored the outstretched hand, only bothering to gaze wide-eyed and burning at the figure before him. It was a moment before he found his voice, the words cold and flat.

"I didn't know you were still alive, Van Hohenheim."

[Year 1347]

"I think I've finally done it!" Nicholas couldn't help the excited whoop that left his mouth as he held up the piece of parchment paper. His eyes roved over the hastily scrawled notes on his desk, double checking them compared to the transmutation circle grasped in his hands. Finally, after years of harrowing research, he held the answer in his hands. The answer to help Elias get home.

"A magical philosopher's stone," he breathed. Not only the answer to crossing worlds, but the answer to time, miracles, to endless wealth, and immortality. Who knew how many he could create? To have the power to make all the people on this earth gods? To stop even death itself in its tracks?

There was no time to waste.

Upstairs in his study, Elias woke to a terrible feeling in his chest, peeling his face off of the book he had fallen asleep on. 'Something's wrong' muttered over and over in his head and throbbed in his sternum, growing steadily louder. His insides turned over as he was hit with a shockwave of something he'd hoped he would never feel again. Something he had only felt twice before.

The feeling of the world turning on its axis.

The whole room rumbled. Books fell off of shelves with the terrible thunder and his candle threatened to tip over. Hastily, Elias smothered the fire with his right hand and stood on the unstable floor, pushing himself away from the table towards the doorway. This was no earthquake.

A scream ripped through the air.

"Nicholas!" Elias shouted, throwing himself into the hallway, "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!"

The trembling compounded. Curses spewed from his mouth as he threw himself down the hall, dodging a falling vase. The trembling stopped as he was halfway down the stairs. He caught himself on the railing and leapt the rest of the way down, racing across the room towards his apprentice's study.

"Nicholas!"

Using his right arm, he wrenched open the locked door bearing the Flamel's cross and halted deathly still when he saw what lay upon the floor.

"...What have you done? Nicholas… what have you done?"

The study was destroyed. Papers and books blasted across the room, some of it crumbling to ash. Nicholas lay on the far side of the room, still connected to the remains of a massive charcoal circle scrawled on the ground. In the center of the room, resting in a ring of smoldering black, lay a beautifully terrible, miserable, ruby red stone that was slowly oozing golden fluid in a small puddle. His apprentice sobbed, fingers weakly scrabbling on the floor, Elias not knew for his wand or the horror he had just created, but as his eyes rested on the sight, his own stone screaming and moaning, he turned away to be sick.

"Elias…" Nicholas muttered weakly from the floor, "I thought I had it right… the magic... it wasn't enough..."

"...Nicholas… ...What have you done?" Elias rasped once more, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand and unable to tear his eyes away from the devastating sight. He should have known. Nicholas and his all-too-eager questions, he should have realized-

"I'm sorry…" Nicholas cried, "I'm sorry… you were right. I thought magic would be enough to stop it… the dying… oh Christ, I can hear them crying…"

"'Them', Nicholas?" Elias' stone was singing.

"They're still dying! Elias, they're still dying! The souls of the damned, they have no words, they're just… Elias, they're in agony." Elias wanted to be sick again. He sank to his knees, feeling suddenly cold. "I can't make them stop! How do I make them stop?"

"...You damned them, Nicholas. You damned them. And now they shall be the price for your transgressions."

On the floor, the stone glowed brightly, pulsing as more golden fluid seeped into the wood beneath.

"I'm sorry! My calculations were perfect! I don't know what... Nobody should have died! I thought… I thought…"

"You thought," Elias bit out, trembling, "You thought what? That you were more powerful than Truth? That you could deny equivalent exchange? What have I been teaching you? Not even magic is a replacement for human life. Now thousands of people are paying the price for your arrogance."

"But what do I do, Elias? What do I do? It wasn't meant to be this way..."

"...You can only pay the price of playing god."

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(It wasn't immediate. The price that Flamel had paid to combine alchemy, magic, and human lives was a long and tortuous one. Europe was struck with a mysterious illness, slowly killing hundreds of thousands. Elias, who had rejected Flamel's apprenticeship entirely, did not know of the sheer amount until many years later. But Flamel, who had taken his Stone and fled in shame, knew every soul's name as they passed, carrying behind him a trail of devastation.

The deaths didn't stop for four years.)

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Guest reviews:

Superjukes2- Thank you! Here it is. I brought doomsday with me :')