Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Rehabilitation ❯ Changes ( Chapter 6 )

AN: Ugh. Would you believe it? My air conditioning broke during the HOTTEST week of the year! DAMN IT!

Okay... I would like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers! Thank you all so much for understanding my need for feedback! As a result, Chapter Six is finished much sooner than expected. Now is when the story really starts to progress.

Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

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Rehabilitation

Chapter Six

Changes

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Saturday evening, Edward, Winry, Pinako, and Major Armstrong were all in the Room of Requirement. It had only taken three days for the mechanics to complete Ed’s new automail, and everything was ready for the operation. Ed was lying on an examination table, and Winry and Pinako had their tools lain out on either side of him. Armstrong was standing guard at the door.

Winry approached her friend. “You don’t have to do this, Ed,” she said. “You can still back out this, you know.”

Ed merely gave her a stubborn gaze. “No,” he said. “I do.”

Winry sighed. “All right, then. Are you ready, Grandma.”

“Winry, at my age, you can be nothing but ready,” she said. “Are you ready for this, Edward?” she then asked. When she received a nod in return, she signaled to Winry, and the operation began.

It was a slow and agonizing process for all of those involved. Edward was trying his best to keep still and silent, but it was extremely difficult. Automail surgery is the most painful experience ever imagined, and it took its toll on him as he whimpered and thrashed around on the table. Every time he would jerk or a sound would escape his lips, Winry and Pinako would wince, feeling terrible about the immense pain they were causing him.

Twenty minutes after the surgery began, Pinako paused in her work, Winry following her example. “You know, Edward,” she said, “it’s all right if it hurts. You don’t have to be strong for anyone.”

The duo resumed their work. Shortly after, a wailing, pain-filled scream could be heard from all parts of the castle.

---

“Acid Pops.”

A stone gargoyle in an empty corridor sprang to life, stepping aside to reveal a spiral staircase. Harry Potter climbed the stone steps, eager to speak with the person awaiting him at the top. He knocked on the wooden door, and a warm voice spoke, “Enter.”

Inside was a circular office filled with many silver instruments on individual tables. Ahead of Harry was a desk, a chair sitting in front of it. Behind the desk sat Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Good evening, Professor,” Harry greeted.

“Good evening, Harry. Please, sit down.”

Harry sat, but he fidgeted in his seat, which did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore. “Something is on your mind, Harry,” he said, peering through his half-moon spectacles. “May I be of any assistance?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Sir, the military that’s here- do they have anything to do with Voldemort? Or the Order?”

The old man gave a small smile. “I had a feeling you would ask me about them,” he stated. “No, Harry, these people have absolutely nothing to do with either Lord Voldemort or the Order of the Phoenix.”

The boy’s expression turned to a puzzled one. “But then, sir,” he asked, “what are they doing here?”

Dumbledore heaved a large sigh. “It is as I explained at the Welcoming Feast,” he said. “Major Elric has been attacked on several occasions by a known serial killer. On the last such time, his younger brother was lost, and he himself was terribly injured.”

Harry frowned. “Yes, I understand that, sir, but why did they come here? Wouldn’t it be better to be in a military safe house or something?”

“Colonel Roy Mustang,” the professor explained, “is an old acquaintance of mine. He helped Nicholas Flamel and I- I dare say you remember my friend Flamel?- with our research on the Philosopher’s Stone. He came to me asking for help, and I gladly obliged.

“Now,” he continued, seeing his student about to ask another question, “I believe we have reached an occasion of which we each believe his own topic of discussion to be the more important one, as is bound to happen, but I am certain you have been wondering what you will be learning in these lessons, am I correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let us begin...”

---

Harry left his lesson shortly before nine o’ clock that evening, mind reeling with all of its newly acquired information. As he rounded a corner, he realized that he was headed in the direction opposite that of Gryffindor Tower. He was about to turn around when he suddenly heard a terrifying noise.

A long, bloodcurdling scream filled the air, chilling Harry to the core. He looked upwards, for that was from where the yell seemed to originate, as another one, even more horrifying than the last, passed through the ceiling and reverberated off of the stone walls. Harry immediately raced through the hall towards the nearby staircase, climbing to the floors above, even more screams ringing in his ears. He ran down another corridor as the sound grew louder until he finally came to a rest before the blank stretch of wall he knew to hide the Room of Requirement.

He paced back and forth three times, wracking his brains for what the room could possibly be serving as, the screams increasing in size and volume all the while. He looked to where the door should have appeared, but the wall remained empty. The boy groaned, frustrated, and resumed his pacing. Finally, as he realized he could not stay any longer without risking breaking curfew and a confrontation with Filch, he gave a sad look to the wall and hurried to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Once safely inside the Common Room, Harry walked to the fireplace and collapsed in his favorite armchair. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, both with wearied looks on their faces- the screams were loud enough to penetrate the Gryffindor Tower, and most of the students were still awake with either scared or sickened expressions. They simply sat there in silence, none of the three wanting much to start a conversation.

Even though the screams finally stopped several hours later, no one in the castle slept that night.

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Sunday morning in the Great Hall, students and professors alike were falling asleep in their breakfasts. Hermione had to stop Ron from pouring pumpkin juice on his cereal twice, and even Professor Snape was looking worse for the wear, merely rearranging the food on his plate. The monotony was broken, however, when the doors opened and the morning military parade marched towards the Head Table.

Most of the students had become used to the usual mealtime parade during the past week, but several curious students still watched them cross the Great Hall every day. Even though they were suffering from lack of sleep, they still fulfilled the morning routine. A few heads looked up from each of the tables before lazily dropping back down to their meals, but they quickly snapped up again, the students rubbing sleep from their eyes as they stared at Major Elric. As in any school, it didn’t take long until the entire Hall knew about the abnormality.

Major Edward Elric was walking towards the Head Table. Instead of the usual scrubs, he wore black pants, a black shirt, a black jacket, and a long read coat on the back of which was a strange symbol of a snake wrapped around a cross. On his hands were white gloves, and on his feet were black combat boots. When he reached his usual seat, he sat, filled his plate with food, and immediately began to eat at a slow pace.

The Hall filled with whispers, every student now speaking of the sudden change. At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having their own discussion. As usual, Ron was sputtering nonsense. “What the-- How the-- Bloody hell-- Wasn’t he missing an arm and a leg at dinner last night?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ron, you are the most insensitive person I have ever met!”

“What? It’s true!”

Harry spoke before the fight could escalate. “Look, you two,” he said, “I talked with Professor Dumbledore last night.”

Ron suddenly became wide awake. “I forgot about that,” he said. “What did he have to teach you?”

“I’ll tell you about that later,” said Harry. “Listen, I asked him about these military people.”

“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Did you find out anything useful? I’ve just been so worried ever since-- well--” She couldn’t finish her sentence, but there was no need. Both Harry and Ron knew that she was thinking of when they met with Major Elric in the Owlery and then overheard his conversation with Colonel Mustang.

Harry nodded. “It’s not much,” he admitted, “but at least it’s something. They’re not a part of the Order like I thought. Dumbledore owed Mustang a favor, so he’s letting them stay here.”

“A favor?” Ron frowned, thinking this over. “What kind of favor?”

“Apparently,” Harry elaborated, “Mustang helped him and Flamel with their research on the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Oh!” The two boys turned to Hermione, who looked as if she had just realized something very important. “I remember reading something about the Philosopher’s Stone somewhere... I think it was in reference to the Sorcerer’s Stone!”

Harry blinked. “There’s a difference?” he asked. “I just assumed they were the same thing.”

“No, no,” Hermione said. “It’s completely different... the Philosopher’s Stone is something created by alchemy, with absolutely no magic involved. The Sorcerer’s Stone is created through both.”

Ron stared at the girl, amazed and exasperated at the same time. “Since when do you know this?”

Hermione gave her friend a withering look. “I’ve been doing some research on alchemy this past week, since we have State Alchemists visiting.”

“You know,” Harry said, “that’s actually not a bad idea! Hermione, keep researching, and let us know if you find anything. Ron and I will do the best we can to help, but it isn’t going to be easy with all this homework we keep getting.”

“If you would just use the homework planners I’ve given to the both of you--”

“Can we please not talk about homework,” Ron whined, his sleepy mind not yet up to the task of focusing on schoolwork. “So did you find out anything else last night, Harry?”

“Not about this, no,” he said. “But there was something else that happened after the meeting. Do you remember that screaming we heard all night?”

Ron snorted. “Who could forget?”

“Well,” Harry said, “I was on my way back to the Tower last night when I first heard it. I followed the noise, and I found out that it was coming from the Room of Requirement.”

---

Later that morning Edward was walking around the grounds outside. The air was still chilly, and the grass was still wet with dew. Winry and Pinako had left shortly after breakfast but not before giving Ed a final warning to “stay safe, stop moping, and for goodness’ sake don’t wreck your automail again!” After they had departed, Edward had resumed his usual wandering around the castle, but he had gone to explore outside after two solid hours of rumors following him through the students, ghosts, and even paintings.

The alchemist breathed in the crisp morning air, savoring the way it reminded him of Risembool. He started walking in the direction of the lake, Hughes and Havoc in tow, but changed direction in favor of the Quidditch Pitch when he saw several students sitting in the shade of a beech tree near the water’s edge. Damn it, he thought, if I knew that this would happen, I wouldn’t have gone through with the damn automail surgery!

Indeed, all the rumors he had heard that morning were about how his missing limbs had suddenly appeared. There were many theories, the most popular of which were magicked wooded limbs and Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, having regrown them. Edward was understandably fed up with it all- so much, in fact, that he had snapped at Hughes when he had attempted to show him pictures of his wife and daughter, sufficiently stifling the man for the morning. Ed felt a twinge of regret for the incident, but as he neared the stadium, he realized that it had been worth it for the peace and quiet he had been having ever since then.

Ed pushed open the heavy wooden doors, walking into the empty pitch. He kept moving until he reached the center of the field, where he allowed himself to collapse face down into the grass. Automail surgery really takes it out of you, he thought. He yawned, inhaling the smell of the sweet grass. I could just stay here forever.

Unfortunately, the boy was rudely taken from his thoughts as he heard footsteps around him. He didn’t look up, instead choosing to burrow his face into the soft ground. It wasn’t long before he heard a voice.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” It was a young man, probably around Ed’s age, although his voice held the same slimy tone as many corrupt politicians he had dealt with the past three years as a State Alchemist. “What is this little pip-squeak doing on our Quidditch Pitch?”

“Hold your tongue.” By the sound of his voice, Hughes disliked this person as much as Ed himself. “State your business or leave.”

“No need to get testy,” the voice said again. “I’ve just come to get in a little flying before the pitch gets overrun by mudbloods.”

Flying? Edward heaved a sigh before turning over and pushing himself off of the ground to get a look at the intruder. In reality, there were three boys standing in front of them. Two of them were big, ugly, and stupid looking, standing on either side of the third, who had slick blond hair, cold gray eyes, and a smirk to rival Mustang’s. After examining them for several moments, Ed spoke.

“If memory serves me, you need a magic broom in order to fly.”

If possible, the boy’s smirk grew even wider. “Well look at that,” he said, “he can talk! And here I thought he was just a poor little crippled muggle coward.”

Havoc stepped forward, deliberately blowing smoke from his cigarette into the blond boy’s face. “You know,” he said, “I could shoot you and tell the Colonel that you were harassing Fullmetal, and I’ll bet he’ll give me a promotion.”

The boy let out a derisive laugh. “ ‘Shoot?’ What’s that, some muggle word for ‘put in detention?’ ”

Hughes smiled wryly, taking out his revolver and cleaning it like Hawkeye on a bad day. “Not exactly,” he said. “You see, I point this at you, pull the trigger, and then your little smart-ass body is full of bullet holes.”

Rodent Boy, as Edward now thought of him, raised one elegant eyebrow. He brought out a stick of wood, which the alchemist now knew to be a wand, and began twirling it between his fingers. “I could hex all three of you before you could do that. And even if you did manage to cause me any harm, you would be in trouble with my father’s... associates.”

That last comment made Edward’s blood boil even more than when he called him short. He pushed past all five of the people in front of him with full intentions to find another place to relax. He had barely passed the Rodent Boy and his goons when the irritating voice called out to him once again.

“You’re more of a coward than I thought. It’s no wonder that your brother’s dead.”

Ed had already transmuted his automail into his trademark short blade and was about to turn around and teach the kid a lesson Fullmetal style when another voice cut in and something whizzed past him in the air. He spun around to see Rodent Boy and his thugs all crying out, each sprouting boils on his face, before they ran off towards the castle, presumably in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Edward turned around again to see three students, all with their wands out and pointed to where the other three had been standing moments prior. They lowered their wands before approaching the alchemist and his guards.

There were two boys and one girl, and they all seemed to form some sort of close knit group like the three who had just left. The first boy was tall with red hair and freckles, while the second was shorter (though nowhere near as short as Ed himself) and had messy black hair, bright green eyes, glasses, and a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. The girl had bushy brown hair, and she was carrying several books in her arms despite it being the weekend. Awkwardly, Ed recognized them as the students he had met in the Owlery earlier that week.

The shorter boy spoke first. “I apologize for Malfoy. He had no right to say that.” Ed nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m Harry Potter, and these are my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

The girl, Hermione, smiled politely, but the redhead, Ron, was gaping in the direction of Ed’s exposed automail. “What-- how-- didn’t you-- huh?”

Harry and Hermione followed his gaze, and Ed transmuted his arm back to normal. Wanting to rid himself of both the three students and the rumors following him, he gave a quick explanation. “It’s automail,” he said shortly. “It connects to the nerves in my shoulder and leg and allows me to use it like ordinary limbs.”

They stood there in a tense silence for several minutes before Ed moved toward the exit, Hughes and Havoc nodding to the trio in thanks before following. As he was about to pass through the doors, Ed paused. “Thank you,” he said, and he walked out of sight.

---

Once again, it was not long before the entire school knew of the fight in the Quidditch Pitch. Much to the delight of everyone except Slytherins, Malfoy had been too embarrassed at being caught off guard to tell anyone who had hexed him and his cronies. Much to the relief of Edward, the school also knew of his automail, so he no longer was enduring rumors about where his limbs had come from spreading through the halls, but much to his chagrin, the students had yet to stop staring at him, and so he had taken residence in the abandoned Astronomy Tower after lunch, Mustang at his side, and had been there for the entire afternoon.

Ed stared at the ceiling, which was charmed like that of the Great Hall to look like the sky outside. It was a beautiful clear blue in color, dotted here and there with small, puffy white clouds. Once again, he was painfully reminded of his hometown residing in the farming country of Amestris.

The boy sighed as he glanced around the room. Posters of constellations, planets, and moons littered the walls. On the front desk were piles of books, each having something to do with the heavens, several pieces of parchment, one eagle feather quill, and a pot of black ink.

It had been strange for Edward when he had first realized that everyone in the school still used quills and parchment as writing utensils. After all, shouldn’t witches and wizards have more advanced technology than regular people? This was only one of the things of this new world that confused Ed.

Putting these thoughts aside, Ed turned to remembering his brother. He knew that he had been a fool the past week; Alphonse had always put his older brother before himself, and he would probably have given Edward a fair beating for not taking care of himself. Taking the remnants of the broken seal out of his coat pocket, Ed stared down at the metal pieces as he recalled Al’s habit to pick up stray kittens and hide them in his armor in order to keep them safe. He had been a kind, caring soul, and he had always hated for any living creature to be harmed. He was such an innocent person...

And yet all of that had been taken away from the world by one man: an angry Isvalan who had sworn on his god that he would not harm him. The irony of it all was overwhelming. Ed’s blood boiled at the thought of the scarred man, and yet he knew that Alphonse would not have wanted him to seek revenge. Still, he needed to do something.

Edward needed peace of mind, and that was not something he could find by sitting still. He needed to get over his self-pity, and he needed to do it quickly. Nothing would be accomplished if he kept moping. Even if I’m stuck in this castle, he thought, I can still do something. Maybe I can find something in the library or from the classes here that can help me.

I know Al wouldn’t want me to go looking for revenge, but I need to do something for myself before I can move on. I need to catch Scar so that he can’t hurt anyone else.

“Ed.” He was broken out of his reverie by Colonel Mustang’s voice. He looked to his superior and nodded, showing that he had his attention. “It’s almost time for dinner. We should be heading down to the Great Hall.”

The blond boy stood, stretched, and nodded again, allowing Mustang to lead him out of the Tower and down to dinner.

---

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be found in the library. Dinner had been no different from breakfast and lunch; all of the students were still discussing the mysterious Edward Elric. Now, the three were following through with their plans to research alchemy, scouring the bookshelves to find any material on the subject.

Ron grunted. “We’ve been in here for hours,” he said. “There’s nothing in any of these books. Hermione, have you checked the one you found in first year with the Sorcerer's Stone in it?”

The girl nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve already told you, there’s nothing in it except for a small reference to the Philosopher’s Stone.”

The redhead allowed his forehead to fall to the table, and a loud thump echoed, earning him a glare from Madame Pince, the strict librarian. “Can we go to bed now?” he whined. “I’m tired, and we’ve got Snape in the morning!”

Hermione threw her friend a glare that rivaled that of Madame Pince, and Ron immediately threw his arms up in defense. “I’m only saying!”

Ron was spared the wrath of the girl as Harry came back to the table, a dusty old book in hand. “I’ve found something,” he said. “Look. An Introduction to Basic Alchemy!”

“I knew the library must have something about it!” Hermione grabbed the book from his hand and opened it on the table. She and the two boys rifled through the pages, taking in all of what was written. Hermione frowned at what she saw. “Well it’s no wonder there’s hardly anything here,” she said. “This has absolutely nothing to do with magic! It looks as if everything is based on scientific principles and mathematic equations... And there’s this one phrase that keeps popping up everywhere: ‘Equivalent Exchange.’ ”

Harry frowned as well. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t even see anything about the Philosopher’s Stone in here... Wait! Here’s something!”

The three leaned in to the book, concentrating on the tiny print on the pages. “ ‘The Philosopher’s Stone is a supposed alchemic amplifier that may allow the user to bypass the rule of Equivalent Exchange. Many alchemists seek this mythical Stone in the hopes that it will a successful Human Transmutation.

“ ‘Human transmutation, the art of bringing a dead person back to life, is, of course, forbidden, as it is morally wrong and has never been successfully completed. All recorded attempts have resulted in the death of the alchemist.’ ”

The three students paused, rereading the passage several times. Finally, they all looked up from the book, the same thought on all of their minds.

Can alchemy really bring a person back from the dead?

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AN: There’s nearly ten more pages worth of Chapter Six! I hope you’ve all enjoyed it! This chapter was extremely hard for me to write... It’s another one of those boring transition chapters where almost nothing happens but is needed in order for the plot to progress. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think!

-Sugarpony

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Edited: 6/22/07