A/N: It's finally here! This chapter ran away from me, I'll admit. Zipped itself in a completely different direction than I intended. But I scored an extra day off of work and here we are!
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[Present]
With the beginning of school in sight, the castle became more and more busy. Ghosts fluttered about chatting in excitement about the arrival of the semester and gossiping about memorable students of years past. Edward had gotten dragged into a few of those conversations from ghosts that remembered him, and he'd asked them kindly not to go around advertising his age. Especially with the Stone present in the castle, he didn't need more eyes on his business.
More and more teachers arrived as well. He was introduced to Aurora Sinistra, who ran the astronomy tower, Charity Burbage of muggle studies, Irma Pince the librarian (he decided to steer well clear of her after she'd rapped his knuckles with a ruler when she'd found him drooling on a book on a sleepy late afternoon), and a number of others who did not reside at the castle full time. Who he found most interesting of all was Bathsheda Babbling. Last time Edward had resided at Hogwarts, he'd been the one to teach Ancient Runes. Professor Babbling, although quite an odd person, seemed to fit the role quite a bit better than he had. Edward could never match the energy of wizards and their weird ways. …Nor did he want to.
On September first, the castle was a whirl of frantic teachers and cleaning. Suits of armor were shined, chandeliers dusted, candles lit, and floors waxed and wiped. By mid-afternoon, not a speck of dust remained. Edward paced his office nervously. He was glad that Albus had held the foresight to place his room so close to the room with the Mirror as well as the third floor corridor that they had electively decided to ban from the students while the Stone's safekeeping was being prepared. Edward had little involvement to the other teachers' idea of defense, his own contribution being the Mirror.
Albus had been adamant that each teacher come up with their own idea in order to prevent each room from having too similar of a feel, and to prevent each teacher from knowing the whole solution to the puzzle lest they had a betrayal in their midst. However, Edward had snatched a peek of the list of ideas one evening while he'd been stalking Albus' office by himself (seriously, they trusted their passwords way too much and those egghead headmaster paintings were always asleep!). He thought it was all stupid. Any wizard worth two salts and a penchant for risks and slightly out-of-the-box ideas would be able to blast their way through most of the solutions. That left the Mirror of Erised as the only sound barrier towards getting the Stone. The teachers' 'puzzles' may as well just be a party trick to stop wayward students from playing with his disgusting invention.
Which, he supposed, was better than nothing. As it was, leaving the mirror in the empty room nearby his classroom was giving him enough of an aneurysm. And the students weren't even here yet.
That was soon to change.
Dinnertime came far too quickly for Edward's liking. He sat at the high table at his usual spot next to Severus. On his left crammed Charity Burbage, the table being far more crowded with teachers than he was used to. Students slowly filed into the hall, all black robes and caps with tidbits of shiny gold and silver and house colors, looking like the world's worst pack of ravens. He huffed and smirked slightly at the sentiment, Snape shooting him a furrowed look.
The hall filled with more and more chattering as students found their friends and they all settled down at their assorted tables, excited and waiting for the sorting to be announced. Edward inwardly groaned at the idea of that hat. He and Flamel weren't the only ones to have played with souls in this world. The hat, at least, wasn't dangerous and his souls didn't react quite as disastrously to it as another philosopher's stone, but it was definitely more obnoxious than a painting. Some kind of neatly fractured soul bond. At least the four Founders had never tried to strike immortality… that he knew of, anyway.
Finally, the hall doors opened once more and in flooded a crowd of nervous first years, McGonagall in the lead. She silently placed the sorting hat in front of them, and Edward prepared to be bored.
The hat wriggled a little, ripped its brim open, and sang. The eleven year olds faces paled. He caught Harry Potter's face in the crowd, standing next to some redhead looking only slightly less terrified and thought he might be about to faint. The most famous person of the modern wizarding world collapsing in front of everyone on the first day of school. That would have been a sight. Side-eyeing Albus he noticed that the man's eyes were trained on the black-haired student as well, with a strange glint in his eye.
The Potter kid managed to make it through the song without swooning, and McGonagall proceeded with the name calling, and most of the first years visibly relaxed when they realized what was going on. Edward entertained himself by guessing the houses before the kids put on the hats. Though, inwardly, he rolled his eyes at the whole process. In his opinion, the kids didn't have to be segregated to learn at all- it only promoted bullying and feelings of superiority. But he figured he'd have a hell of a time trying to convince some stuffy traditional wizards to change their outdated ways. It wasn't worth the effort.
When all of the kids had been sorted, (Harry into Gryffindor, of course), Albus Dumbledore stood and gave the most insane start of school speech Edward had ever heard. He wasn't sure what 'nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak' was supposed to mean, but pursed his lips and chalked it up to being another wizard thing and decided to add those words to his mental list of likely headmaster room passwords. At any rate, the new students seemed just as confused.
Albus, he noted after the man sat back down again, was subtly eyeing Harry even as the food from the kitchens appeared on their plates, and Edward was growing the suspicion that the elderly man knew something more about the boy than he was letting on. That, or he had plans .
Edward despised Albus' plans.
Scowling at the reminder of the eccentric man's plans for him , he joined the rest of the staff in piling his plate high with hot, delicious (he did have to hand it to the house elves) food to drown his besetments.
It was after the feast that Albus stood one more time with a small clearing of his throat.
"And now," the headmaster continued, "I have one final announcement to make. I am sure all of our returning students are wondering about the new face at our table tonight. Well, I can proudly say that we will be adding a new subject to Hogwarts this year."
At his words, a sudden flurry of whispers broke out from the students.
"Please welcome Edward Elric, our new alchemy teacher." Albus made a grandiose gesture towards him, and Edward felt the curiously burning eyes of every single student stare at him all at once. Feeling dreadfully uncomfortable, Edward made sure his posture was straight, chin up, and gave a sharp, calculated nod instead of a wave. The last thing he wanted the students to think was that he was friendly and hog him with questions.
As it was, the excited chatter only grew louder and louder, excited students bursting with curiosity.
"Alchemy classes are available to every year, young and old. However, those who wish to take Professor Elric's class must be diligent in their studies. Know that it will likely not be an easy class to pass." Albus' eyes twinkled, and he winked at Edward. He scowled back.
At least it sounded like his class boundaries were being honored.
It took a long while before the chatterings began to calm down, Edward glaring at anyone who made eye contact for too long. Dumbledore finally called for dismissal, and everyone slowly filed out of the hall. Finally able to go back to his room, Edward collapsed into bed and gazed at the ceiling, the souls in his chest voicing paltry reassurances about the reality he would be facing come the morning. It didn't help, merely reminding him of the weight of why he was at Hogwarts at all, and how the source of his troubles stood in a room but a staircase and a few hallways away.
Exposed.
Throwing off his blankets, Edward threw on his trench coat to stave off the chilled midnight air, lit a torch, and stepped out into the cold stone hallways. He swiftly strode to the dusty room, pushing the heavy wooden door open with a soft creak. There stood the Mirror, still and covered with the musty gray sheet. The light from his torch cast an ominous flickering shadow across the cloth's surface. Edward rested a hand on the frame, fingers gently grasping the fabric whilst the Stone roiled in discomfort and warnings. He just had to make sure…
The sheet rippled to the floor.
"Hello, Brother." Alphonse smiled at him and voices burst in his head.
'It's there! It's still there. Save it! Leave it alone!'
"Al," Edward's voice wavered. He would never be used to the haunting image of his brother. Oh, how he missed him. How he missed home."...Am I doing the right thing?"
'LEAVE!'
Alphonse tilted his head. "What are you doing, Brother?"
"I don't know anymore, Al," Edward sighed, ignoring the sickened feeling in his gut, "I don't know."
"You always try to do the right thing, right? I trust you, Brother!" The figure in the mirror smiled brightly.
"Yeah… I know you do." What was he doing here? "How can I do this again when the last time my student created… that? " he gestured vaguely at the mirror.
"Me? What are you talking about? You created me, Brother."
The voices in his head grew louder, a soft and pulsing roar.
"I did. But, Al… sometimes I regret that too."
"Why?" The Alphonse cocked his head, "I love you, Brother. I wouldn't hurt you."
"I know…" Edward whispered, hands shaking, "I know."
The sound of a door closing echoed down the hallway. Edward gasped and glanced toward the hallway, broken out of his trance. He glanced back at the mirror and then the door. Faint footsteps trod down the hall.
"Goodnight," Edward whispered, throwing the sheet back over the Mirror of Erised and making a quick exit, shutting the door and locking it with magic. It wouldn't stop anyone worth two salts, but it was quieter than barring the door with alchemy and would potentially keep kids out.
The footsteps came closer, closer, and then Severus Snape rounded the corner. They both stopped and glared at each other.
"What are you doing here?" Edward began, at the same time Snape sneered-
"You. Why are you still awake?"
"I might ask you the same thing." Edward crossed his arms with a scowl. Snape met him with the same expression, glancing quickly up and down the hallway. Then, he grabbed Edward roughly by the arm and dragged him into a nearby room on the opposite side of the hall.
"Hey! What are you-"
"Quiet!" Snape hissed, pushing the door closed behind them and shoving Edward against the wall.
"What the hell-"
"Did you see Quirrell? What are you doing? " Spittle landed on Edward's cheek.
"Nothing that concerns you!" Edward bit back, "Wait, did you see Quirrell? What's he doing?"
"You didn't-" Severus paled further than his already existent pallor.
"What is Quirrell doing?" Edward pushed back, grasping Snape's collar to pull him down closer to his height.
"Nothing that concerns you!" Snape bit out.
"If it's near the third floor corridor, it has everything to do with me!" Edward hissed, wiping the flecks of spit off his cheek.
"I don't know!"
"What?"
"Quirrell." Severus' scowl lines grew even deeper, "I don't know what he was doing. I was trying to find out before I ran into you acting equally suspicious."
Edward let go of the man's collar. "Me? Don't kid yourself. My business is not your business."
"But mine is yours?" Snape sneered.
"Touché," Edward conceded slightly, "But anything to do with the Stone, and therefore the third floor and those sneaking nearby it at night, is my business. And so is Quirrell. We have an agreement, did you forget so soon?"
Somehow, Snape looked even more sour than before. But he let go of Edward and backed away from the wall.
"...He was talking to himself and heading toward the room where we're preparing our tasks. It's midnight and he looked nervous so I thought I'd follow. But he heard me and went back toward his room."
"That's it?"
"That's it. Now, what are you doing out so late?"
"Nothing to do with you or Quirrell. Not your business."
"You're insufferable."
"Hey. I'm not asking why you were wandering around past midnight to catch Quirrell in the first place. Would you rather I pry-"
"No." Snape grumbled, "You've made your point." Each word was punctuated sharply, his irritation clear.
"So we're done here, then?"
"It seems so."
"Good." Edward smiled agitatingly, dusting off his clothes, "Pleasant talk. Thank you for the information."
"Pleasant." Severus replied sourly, sounding more like he disagreed than agreed.
"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," Edward stepped toward the doorway, giving a cheery little wave. "Gute Nacht."
As he left, Edward shut the door while Snape still stood.
The smile quickly melted off his face as he strode back toward his quarters, rolling his sore shoulder where Severus had slammed him against the wall, refusing to feel bad about taking his irritation out on the man. Severus had been asking for it.
The door to the abandoned room opened and closed again behind him but the resulting footsteps did not follow his.
Edward limped back to his quarters, hands shoved deeply in his pockets and a deep scowl upon his face. His nighttime wander hadn't lessened the swirling thoughts in his head, but it had added more to the collection. He threw himself into bed. "What am I doing, Al?" He murmured to the hollow, soulless eyes of the boy in the mirror he imagined, haunting him. Taunting him with a home he hadn't seen in over six hundred years. "I don't know what the right thing is anymore."
Imaginary Alphonse didn't answer back.
With a defeated sigh, he shifted onto his back, resigning himself to a long and fitful night. Eventually, after hours of circling thoughts, he fell asleep to the quiet whispers of the souls harboring in his body.
—
[Year 1860]
"You should sleep, Brother."
"Huh?" Edward tore his eyes from the swaying grasses of Resembool, hazy eyes meeting Alphonse's face, his brother's soft features gently melted into a pout of concern.
"I'm fine, Al," Edward smiled at his brother from where he sat on the floor, waving a hand dismissively.
"You haven't slept in two days."
"You know me," he laughed awkwardly, gesturing to the messy stack of notes in his lap, "Always burying my head in books instead of sleeping!"
"Actually Brother, you usually sleep a lot . I've carried you around enough."
"Well, maybe this is a little more important than sleeping." Edward resisted, "I've got to find out a way to get through! I've got to! I have to!" He rifled madly through his notes with a sudden renewed fervor, accidentally tearing a page with his prosthetic hand in his haste. He paid it no mind, tossing the piece into the pile by his side. "I don't understand what went wrong! What did I do wrong? Are you even real?"
"Of course I'm real, Brother! I'm right here!" Alphonse's voice rose in a pitch of distress, pressing his hands to the figurative glass on his side of the mirror.
"I know, Al! But it doesn't make sense! It won't make sense! I can't make it make sense…! I…" An explosion of papers shot chalk dust up from the ground as Edward shoved the pages off his lap, one hand grasping his head and the other the middle of his chest, as if protecting it from some unseen danger. "Why won't…"
Why couldn't it
Just
Make
Sense?
Alphonse…
…Home…
The stone cried.
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A/N: Two days of no sleep would make anyone go a little mad. Try adding a talking rock and magic. I promise it'll be good for your health :)
As always, thank you for being patient and reading and reviewing! 3