Capítulo 4: chapter 4
Ed loves books.
Books have been there for him when he didn't know who else to turn to. They were there to start him off in alchemy. They were there to teach him how to treat Al's scrapes and cuts when they were younger and Mom wasn't around to do it anymore. They were there to help him research how he could restore Al's body.
(They were there to plant the idea of human transmutation in his head, too.)
Books are the security blanket Ed never outgrew and they are exactly the false sense of security Ed would die (or kill) to have in a world completely unfamiliar.
But perhaps, not these ones.
He really should have known from the monstrosity that is the Care of Magical Creatures book that wizarding texts are a far cry from the lovingly cared-for pages of the books in normal society. The dusty tomes stacked meticulously in the wooden shelves of the Hogwarts library are arrogant, and Ed can't explain how he knows that, seeing as these books are thankfully inanimate, but he swears that the spines of said books are looking down on him (even the ones on the bottom shelves).
The fact that he can feel their nonexistent eyes makes his skin prickle and he's incredibly uneasy, in stark contrast to the typical rush of warmth he was anticipating.
When he had initially walked in, Ed had quietly greeted the woman who must have been the librarian and inquired about the layout of the library, as he normally would.
His first impression of the woman in question reminds him of Izumi Curtis in all ways but physical; basically, Ed would rather eat his automail than piss her off. He watches her frown at his lack of uniform, before she explains stiffly where he'd find which subject matter and what she expects in her library.
"Under no circumstances should you disrespect the books," she says at the very end, a smile on her face that gives Ed flashbacks of Teacher, before she would deliver a bone-cracking punch.
"I wouldn't dare dream of it," he says, acting how he thinks Al might. Al always did get the tiniest amount of leeway with Teacher, although not by much.
She stares at him, still smiling deceptively, before giving him a nod and leaving him to his own devices.
And now he's wandering the stacks, constantly looking over his shoulder, because if he didn't know better, the books are watching his every move.
What is going on?
He stumbles upon a section of the library dedicated to alchemy and his heart skips a beat.
Could it be…?
Ed reaches out, but stops shy of pulling one of the books out.
The feeling that something is watching him, that the books are alive or something sinister will happen, buzzes against his fingertips. He's reminded of his first attempt at magic, where the energy had felt almost alive.
Maybe that's what this is?
He sits, cross-legged in front of the alchemy texts, and takes a breath.
"I'm Edward Elric," he whispers, barely audible even in the stillness of the empty library. He would feel much more foolish if he hadn't spent his entire morning talking to his dumb stick.
Ed has always been a person who talks to himself. He mumbles when working on arrays, he murmurs while he does research, he says what he wants to write as he writes things down. He even mutters in his sleep, according to Al, who also says that Ed is simply incapable of being quiet, that his thoughts are too loud, hence the constant noise. (Mustang and his team were quick to agree.)
"May I?" he asks, extending his hand again to the book he had tried to pull out of the shelf earlier.
There's no resistance this time, no weird tingling sensation as he reaches for the book.
He takes it off the shelf.
He opens its pages with the utmost respect and immerses himself in its knowledge, in what it has to offer.
I really hope this is the last time I have to talk to inanimate objects, Ed thinks ruefully as he settles down.
He doesn't notice Madam Pince watching him from around the corner of the bookshelf.
Irma Pince is surprised.
And Irma Pince is rarely ever surprised anymore.
She'd labeled the new third year as a delinquent the moment he had walked in, especially considering his little meltdown the night before and his present attire. When he had feigned politeness, Madam Pince had seen the act for what it was: an act.
She was certain he was only in the library to cause trouble unseen, as many others had attempted in the past. After she had given him the typical spiel about quiet in the library and treatment of the books, she had sent him off with every intention of trailing inconspicuously after him.
She'd watched as he walked aimlessly from aisle to aisle, stopping to read certain titles, but never actually taking anything from the shelves.
Then she'd watched as he sat himself down in front of the alchemy section and asked permission to read the book.
How could he know about that?
Wizarding books, perhaps best exemplified by the more temperamental, have something of a personality in them, despite being entirely inanimate. Madam Pince isn't borderline murderous over the treatment of her books for nothing; even the most composed book has its limits. Generally speaking, the books tolerate the manhandling that students put them through, but if Madam Pince didn't lay down the law, she wouldn't be surprised if her books began rioting.
Perhaps I was too quick to judge, she thinks as she walks away. It must be the homeschooling.
While Madam Pince is contemplating Ed's behavior, Ed is struggling through the first three chapters of the book he had chosen at random. Struggling, not due to its difficulty, but rather due to its completely nonsensical approach.
Titled The Secrets of Flamel, the book is composed of over 1,000 pages of flaming hot garbage. It's clear to Ed that Mr. Nicholas Atkinson, the author, has never actually performed a transmutation in his life, because he touts "the transmutation of gold" as the end all be all of alchemy. Ed's tempted to transmute the book in his hands to gold just to piss off Atkinson's ghost (or living spirit if he's still kicking), but stops when he reminds himself the book might just try to kill him (he wouldn't put it past it to try).
He spends a few minutes trying to see if Atkinson had simply written everything in an impossible code, but upon deciding that he's nothing but a hack, he puts the book aside and reaches for a different title: Alchemy for Squibs .
Alchemy is an exact and ancient magic, once used by Muggles, yada, yada, yada, the ultimate goal: the Philosopher's stone.
Now that, Ed can get into.
He eagerly flips to the section of the book that covers "Creation of the Stone" and is soon disappointed to learn that the (singular) Philosopher's stone in this reality is also a well-guarded secret.
The only one in existence was made by Nicholas Flamel, who has used said stone to prolong his and his wife's lives with the elixir of life. It is also assumed that Flamel has used the stone to fund his livelihood; namely, through the transmutation of gold.
What the fuck is up with this obsession with gold? Ed wonders, putting the handbook aside.
Transmuting gold is literal child's play: Ed was capable of performing such a feat within the first three months of learning alchemy, and he hadn't even had instructions when he had done it. It's something any real alchemist should be capable of, if they actually understand the basics.
For the next few minutes, Ed flips (politely) through each book in the meager section and skims over the same, useless information that the books share: no one but Flamel knows how to create a Philosopher's stone and it seems largely useless for what Ed hopes to accomplish. Elixir of life? Potentially useful, but transmutation of gold? Fucking pointless.
When he's done leafing through every single book on alchemy that the library has to offer, Ed is mentally exhausted.
So much for finding something useful.
* * * * *
The hallways leading down to the dungeons are dismal and depressing, because that is precisely what makes a dungeon a dungeon. The only thing out of place at the moment is the sound of panting interspersed with swearing as third-year Edward Elric runs to potionsHe had lost track of time in the library, and had actually only remembered to leave for class when Madam Pince had discovered him surrounded by a mountain of books on wizarding alchemy and asked if his first period was free on Monday's. He's a little late because he had made sure to return each book to its proper place before speed walking out of the library.
Which is why he's the last student to enter the potions classroom and he's actually pretty lucky, because the potions professor sweeps in moments after Ed's seated. From the look on his face, he's exactly the type of person Ed would talk to with the crafted politeness he uses on self-important assholes he needs to keep happy.
Severus Snape doesn't speak, just stands in front of a silent classroom, surveying them with folded arms, his black robes giving the impression that he's one of those vampires from Winry's cheesy romance books (and obviously, there's no particular reason Ed knows what a vampire from said book would look like).
So, this is the asshole who gives Neville anxiety…
Finally, the vampire speaks.
"I suppose I should welcome our newest addition… Mr. Elric." His voice is laced with disdain.
What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Ed has never spoken to the man, so he doesn't think he's actually done anything to warrant the hatred (and don't get him wrong, he's done plenty in his life to deserve hatred). He chooses not to respond, forcing himself instead to sit up straight and give Snape his attention. If he's learned anything from handling the military brass (and if he's learned anything from Mustang), sometimes it's better to be underestimated.
He can feel everyone staring at him and he stomps down on the urge to stare back.
"And pray tell, Mr. Elric, why are you out of uniform?"
It's just like being a State Alchemist Ed laughs internally. Just substitute the Mr. for Major.
He's going to be butting heads with every single professor over this, isn't he?
"I'm afraid I don't have any robes, sir." He holds eye contact and can tell that something he said peaks Snape's interest.
"I see. Ten points from Hufflepuff."
Ed's tempted to snort. House points mean (less than) nothing to him. He does, however, notice that the rest of the Hufflepuffs in the class shift unhappily in their seats; looks like Ed will not be popular here (when was he ever?).
"While I have your attention, I understand you received homeschool instruction prior to this year?"
"Yes, sir."
Snape eyes him with distaste. Ed can only imagine what inane drivel is running through the man's head, until he speaks again.
"Then can you tell me, Mr. Elric, a potion in which you would need the powdered root of Asphodel?"
"The Wiggenweld potion, sir."
Nothing says "welcoming" like a test of one's knowledge, most likely intended to humiliate. Ed's always been one to disappoint though, so he already knows he won't feign the ineptitude Snape is clearly trying to find. If the man hates him more for it, all the better.
"And what is the Wiggenweld potion used for?"
"It can be used to reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught, but is also a strong healing potion for general injuries."
Ed watches as Snape's frown deepens and then chooses to continue barraging him with questions that would be difficult to answer, if Ed hadn't had his basic knowledge padded with an entire encyclopedia the day before.
Severus Snape is a dick, he thinks spitefully, although he keeps his expression blank.
"What is Amortentia?" he says, seven minutes of questions later.
"It's an incredibly potent love potion that creates strong obsession in those who take it."
"Its features?"
"The pearly sheen and the steam that comes up in spirals."
"And what does it smell like?"
"That's a trick question, sir. Amortentia smells different to each person, based on what they would consider attractive."
Snape finally pauses, peers at Ed with suspicious eyes, and then sniffs.
"I suppose that's acceptable."
It's the only thing he says acknowledging Ed's performance before diving into the lesson, listing the materials and curriculum for the rest of the year, all in the same bored and arrogant tone of voice he had used to drill Ed.
"Today," he says at the end of the monotonous lecture, lips pursed in displeasure, "You will be using the remaining hour to attempt brewing the Girding Potion, which increases a person's endurance."
Whispers and giggles erupt all over the classroom.
They really are thirteen, Ed grimaces.
This is going to be a long hour.
* * * * *
Neville was certain that he'd probably never talk to Ed again (or more importantly, Ed would never talk to him) after he had watched (with an unexpected amount of disappointment) as the boy had joined the Hufflepuff table following his Sorting.
He'd been surprised though, when the boy had given him a little wave before leaving the feast last night, an action entirely at odds with the earlier impression he had given everyone else.
"You know him?" Harry had asked incredulously.
Just barely.
Neville didn't think much of it, seeing as Ed was a Hufflepuff and the definition of "too cool to be seen with Longbottom, let alone be his friend".
So, it is needless to say that he is (non-magically) stunned in potions when Ed chooses to be his partner.
No one willingly pairs up with Neville anymore, because his concoctions are distinctly not potions and are admittedly volatile no matter how well he follows the instructions.
After Snape announces the corresponding page number for the "girding potion" to the third years, everyone immediately turns to their neighbor and begins dividing up tasks, except for Neville, who is avoided like the plague.
So, imagine his surprise when Ed, who has just revealed a level of potions knowledge on par with Hermione's, drops into the seat next to him and asks, "Do you want to get ingredients or should I?"
"What?"
"Do you want to get ingredients or should I do it?"
"What?"
Ed stares at Neville with a furrow in his brow. "Ingredients," he says slowly. Then he gestures between the two of them. "Me or you?"
"Uh, me?" Neville says, unsure if he's dreaming.
"Then I'll heat up the cauldron." Ed gets busy setting up the proper arrangement of wood for the fire, as Neville lurches from his seat. He's two steps from the table when he turns back.
"Hey, Ed?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you know I'm notorious for creating explosions in this class?"
Ed stops rearranging firewood and glances up at him. "Is that why no one's sitting here?"
"I mean, yeah, why do you think?"Ed snorts: "Then don't disappoint me, Neville, I'm looking forward to it." He goes back to kindling the fire.
Neville walks off in a daze towards the supply closet, while Ed fights the urge to snarl at every single person who is staring at him from behind. It's making the back of his neck prickle.
(He's going to have to get used to the whispering and the staring, because it's been pretty much nonstop since the night before.)
By the time Neville returns with an armful of odd plants and dried animals, Ed had already read the instructions and memorized them.
"Great, thanks," he says as the other boy sets down their ingredients.
Neville makes a small noise and Ed glances at him. He's staring at Ed, who's one pair of eyes away from losing his shit in his first class on his first day. "What?" It comes out a bit harsher than he intends it to.
"Thanks. I mean it," Neville says, his look of awe melting into a wide grin.
Ed rolls his eyes. "Don't thank me and just get to work, idiot."
"Er, what should I do?"
"Read the directions first. I already did, so I'll get started on the potion."
By the time the class is over, Snape walks by handing out grades with a sneer, naturally. When he gets to Ed and Neville's table, he raises an eyebrow.
"An unlikely partnership, I see."
Ed stands at attention, and as much as he'd like to knock Snape's lights out, he knows that would be the worst possible thing to do at this moment.
As Snape peers into their cauldron, he does so cautiously, as if he's afraid of the contents.
Neville really wasn't kidding when he mentioned explosives.
"I'm surprised you were capable of making something even resembling a potion, Longbottom, but I suppose your new partner can take credit for that." He sneers. "O." Then he moves on without another word or glance in their direction.
(Ed knows about the beyond-ridiculous grading scale Hogwarts has adopted and he's not surprised by the results. Making potions is basically chemistry with fucked-up ingredients, and chemistry, Ed can do.)
He relaxes as soon as the man is gone and starts to clear up the mess by hand, until he realizes Neville is hyperventilating next to him.
"What's wrong?"
He's breathing rapidly, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a look of surprise.
"I've literally never gotten anything better than a P my entire potions career," he says.
"Maybe potions isn't the right career for you," Ed deadpans, continuing to clean.
Neville scowls, but his eyes light up good-naturedly. He vanishes the rubbish that Ed has swept into a small pile. "Maybe being a wizard isn't yours," he says, only a hint of uncertainty in his words.
Ed stares at Neville, who starts to shift uneasily when the other boy doesn't respond. But then Ed snorts again and Neville breathes a sigh of relief.
"Glad you didn't forget what I said on the train," Ed says, now using his wand to empty the contents of their cauldron. "I like you better when you're balls-y."
Neville laughs.
* * * * *
The rest of classes and the rest of the week pass without issue. Ed likes Filius Flitwick, who's even shorter than him, but apparently a master dueler nonetheless, and he likes Remus Lupin, who he imagines is a bit of a smart-ass underneath his professor facade (at least, that's what the amused grins indicate). Hagrid is the definition of a gentle giant and Ed thinks his hands-on teaching style best fits how Ed grew up learning.
Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, may be the only teacher in the entirety of Hogwarts Ed refers to as "Professor" without internally rolling his eyes, because the woman is scary. But not scary enough to make him endure Transfiguration. When he had first read through the textbook, he had gripped the pages so tightly he'd actually torn his own copy. When he had watched McGonagall transmute herself into a cat and back, he'd almost vomited right then and there - it was like Nina all over again, too much illegal, immoral alchemy in the span of a few days.
So, he stands up in the first lesson and announces his intentions to purposefully fail this class, because it's too close to home. He gets detention for the foreseeable future with McGonagall, who tries to pry into his reasons for hating transfiguration, but he never gives up his secrets. (He's lost the most House points from her.)
Ed plays the part of a good soldier student in front of professors and acts as if he's ashamed of his lack of "proper attire" when called out on it, but makes no moves to fix the problem. He's lost Hufflepuff a record 300 points in the first five days of the term and if he hadn't left a lasting impression during the Sorting, he's certain the other students would have approached him about it by now, if not earlier.
He is decidedly not friendly to his dorm-mates, but also doesn't go out of his way to antagonize them. They mostly avoid one another, which is necessity on Ed's part, as he's still hiding his automail, and with Ed slipping out of the dorm each morning before the sun even rises, it's not much of an issue. (He isn't getting enough sleep, but he isn't expecting to.) He trains each morning, both physically and magically, but there is one thing he hasn't been practicing.
Ed hasn't performed alchemy in over a week and it's setting him on edge, making him irritable in ways he didn't realize was possible (or maybe that was the exhaustion talking); he's never gone so long without it. Next to Al, alchemy is his closest companion and technically, his first love (and his first heartbreak).
He hasn't had time to double-check that Truth hadn't lied to him, that his ability to transmute objects is still intact underneath all these new layers of magic, because he's been struggling to adjust to the strict schedule that Hogwarts imposes on him. He's been a State Alchemist for three years: taking orders, ironically, does not sit well with him.
It doesn't help that everyone actually thinks he's thirteen (some of them even think he's younger), because it makes a large majority of both students and teachers feel entitled to ordering him about like he doesn't understand a thing. It's taking all of his mental energy to not snap at professors and to stay cordial with fellow students. He overhears people whispering about his "attitude", which tells him he's not as successful as he thinks he is, but more than anything, he finds it funny: if they think he's "terrifying" now, what will these kids think of him when he's actually pissed?
Regardless, Ed's not here to make friends: Ed's here to kick ass. And even though he's figured out he's doing fairly well in the magic department, all things considered, he's absolutely got the advantage in terms of trump cards. Based on the entirety of the abysmal selection of alchemy texts in the library, wizarding alchemy amounts to what Ed would consider party tricks. In fact, a startling majority of wizarding alchemy is obsessed with turning shit into gold and it leaves Ed dumbfounded that these people, who can literally teleport according to some basic magic books, are incapable of performing anything beyond simple metal-to-metal transmutations. And even that requires an extensive amount of training, apparently.
So, Ed has a trump card.
That is, if Truth holds up their end of the deal.
On the first Sunday of the school year, when the weather is a bit too chilly to sit outside, Ed steals several lumps of coal from the fireplace in the common room and settles down at the edge of the lake.
Gold should do it, Ed thinks as he claps his hands together.
(He could, by all means, perform any number of transmutations including pulling a dagger from his arm, but turning things to gold is the party trick here, so why not.)
The instance he feels the familiar crackle of electricity, he relaxes into its embrace and presses his palms against the hunks of coal in front of him.
"Party trick," Ed huffs, but he's pleased to see the gold he'd transmuted glitter as it should.
"Bloody hell."
Ed spins around, his pulse in his ears, as he confronts the spy.
There are two of them and he's not sure when they got there. They certainly weren't around when Ed had double-checked he was alone before performing alchemy, but maybe they pulled some magic crap and Ed had missed it. He squints for a moment, because he swears they look like carbon-copies of one another. Moreover, they look a lot like that Weasley kid from Potions.
"Mate, you've gotta show us how you did that," Fred Weasley says, stepping towards him. George Weasley follows, nodding in agreement.
"We could definitely use the gold," he says, eyeing the lumps in front of Ed. "Imagine what we could buy."
"Imagine what we could do," Fred insists.
"We could get Mum that new cauldron she's been raving about."
"Or we could officially start our business venture!"
"Right, we'd have the money without any investors."
"Which means we wouldn't need to pander to those idiots."
The twins grin at one another and high-five, while Ed is frantically trying to piece together an excuse for what they had seen transpire moments before. He pockets the gold, the twins watching him as he does, and gets up, brushing the seat of his pants.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Ed decides to play it dumb; they don't have proof and he's nothing if not stubborn.
George rolls his eyes with a friendly smile while Fred reaches out and rests his elbow against Ed's head. Ed, in turn, scowls and slaps Fred's arm away. (Fuck, why were all of the kids in this reality t-a-l-l-e-r than him!)
"You know exactly what we're talking about," Fred says."The magic you just did," George clarifies.
"The outrageous magic you just did."
"The outrageous wandless magic you just did."
"The outrageous wandless magic you just did that made gold out of nothing."
Ed can't stop his eye from twitching at the twins' antics. It's not like they are capable of annoying him into admitting the secrets of alchemy; he has better self-control than that.
"Who would have thought, Forge, that the new kid has some tricks up his sleeve!" George says.
Fred claps a hand to his cheek in mock-surprise. "He's probably a serial killer with that attitude, Gred, but then again, I've never seen a serial killer quite so short."
He then attempts to ruffle Ed's hair as if he were a very small, very adorable child and Ed takes it back, he does not have enough self-control for this. He loses it.
"WHO THE FUCK IS SHORT!" he yells, grabbing Fred's hand and twisting his arm behind his back.
"Hey!" George shouts, trying to pry Ed off his brother.
Fred lets out a yelp of pain. "Ow, ow, ow, what are you doing!"
"I AM NOT FUCKING SHORT, YOU STRETCHED OUT PIECE OF TAFFY, TELL ME, WHO EXACTLY IS SO SHORT YOU COULD STEP ON THEM WITH YOUR SHOE!"
"He didn't say that! Let go, you maniac!" George tugs at Ed's grip, incensed to discover the shocking amount of strength the third-year is capable of.
Ed squeezes Fred's arm one last time and releases him. George rushes to check on his brother. "Are you mad?" he says incredulously, helping Fred up off the ground. "It was clearly a joke!"
"The wrong joke can get you killed," Ed fumes. "Consider it a life lesson, assholes, free of charge. You're welcome."
He stalks off without another word.
"You okay, Freddie?" George asks, checking him for injuries.
"I'm better than okay," Fred replies. He's watching Ed's retreating figure with a horribly familiar gleam in his eye.
George groans. "No. Absolutely not, no way, never."
"Oh, come on! Have you ever had so much fun?"
"Fun?! He tried to break your arm over a stupid joke! He's mental!"
"He absolutely is, and it's the best thing that could've happened to us! The mouth on that kid would make Mum rip her hair out!"
George shakes his head. "I didn't say anything when you wanted to stalk -"
"Hey!"
"- the new kid all weekend, but this was enough to tell me we should keep our distance, NOT befriend him!"
Fred grabs his brother by the shoulders and shakes him. "You heard what Neville said! I'm sure he's completely soft on the inside."
George doesn't resist Fred's grasp and he sighs tiredly. "Does it really have to be him?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
"No," George says. "Unfortunately, I don't."
Fred wraps George in a bone-crushing hug. "You're the best."
"I know I am," he says, as he hugs back.
When they break apart, Fred throws an arm over George's shoulders as they head back to the castle.
"So," he says, a playful smile on his face, "How should we terrorize the new kid?"
* * * * *
There is one other Neville-like entity that Ed notices in his second week of school.
"Neville-like" in the way Ed can see others bothering her and her taking it without complaint.
"Entity" because the girl doesn't seem human in the same way Al doesn't seem like a young boy when he's seven feet of steel.
Her name is Luna, he finds out, Luna Lovegood. She's three years younger than him and she's in Ravenclaw. And if he's telling the truth, he finds out in one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
Luna is regularly the target of cruel tricks and crueler words. Other students, not limited to those in her House, steal her belongings and hide her shoes and suggest places where her sanity could be found.
"Where are those 'crunkle-horned-snorbacks' you always talk about," one boy yells.
"She's barefoot!" someone else laughs.
"That's a … cute necklace," a girl says, eyeing Luna's cork necklace with a smirk.
Ed only begins to observe how people would whisper about her when she's in the vicinity (if they're not preoccupied whispering about him) and how people would treat her to her face during his second week of school, because the first week, he really was too preoccupied with reading his way through his textbooks and the library to notice that this girl was pretty much being tormented by the rest of the student body, which doesn't sit well with Ed at all.
More than anything, he's beyond annoyed at the callousness of teenagers. Ed's come to expect it of adults, or at least from ranked military officers who sit on their high horses and bark orders without concern for those "beneath" them. He didn't expect it of students, of children who technically grew up together.
However, he is interested in how Luna doesn't let their insults and childish behavior bring her down. She never responds and never lashes out against the rude words and stupid tricks. Luna stays firm in her odd beliefs and kind in the face of cruelty. Ed respects the strength of her will, but he's not going to let a twelve-year-old get picked on, especially if no one, including professors, is going to step in on her behalf.
Which is how Ed finds himself seated at the Ravenclaw table his second Wednesday at Hogwarts.
It's morning and he's about to dig into a mountain of pancakes when he notices Luna avoiding bits of food as she reads from some magazine.
He easily abandons his own breakfast to sit down on the bench next to her and slam his hand against the table, rattling all of the cutlery and glasses in a six-person radius. The four girls who had been throwing the food to begin with stop immediately and stare at him with confused and frightened eyes.
"Problem?" he snarls, in no mood to feign friendliness, but holding himself back from a thinly-veiled (read: not-at-all veiled) threat. They pale considerably and don't bother with a response, focusing intently on the plates sitting in front of them."Thought so," Ed grumbles, recreating his abandoned tower of precariously stacked pancakes.
Luna is very, very still next to him. She doesn't look up from her magazine and Ed doesn't mind, because he is horrible at small talk and the girl probably isn't keen on talking to him based on the rumors that are somehow constantly spreading about him.
The whispering around him ramps up, which Ed didn't plan on, but is also too tired to give a shit about. He's constantly being watched and it's making life difficult, even though he should be used to it as the Fullmetal Alchemist.
But here, at Hogwarts, in this universe, he is supposed to be just Edward Elric; he didn't think being himself would attract as much attention as it did.
He eats absentmindedly, his grip on his fork a tiny bit harder than it should be. It bends in his hand.
Shit. At least no one noticed.
He should really be more careful when holding things with his automail, especially when he thinks a little too much about his current predicament.
Get a hold of yourself, Fullmetal.
"Fullmetal," Luna says. She's no longer reading her magazine and has angled her body to give him her full attention.
Did she just say Fullmetal?
"What. What the fuck?"
She blinks at him, the owlish movement emphasized by how large her eyes are in comparison to the rest of her face.
"You're thinking too loud."
"Are you suggesting you can hear me think?" He frowns.
"No." She turns back to her magazine.
"How did you do that," Ed demands. His mind is racing. No one knows that name here, no one knows alchemy here, no one knows Ed here.
"Do what?"
"How did you read my mind?"
"I didn't," she says. "You think too loud."
He scowls at her, but immediately falters, because Luna's response to his usual defense mechanisms is to smile softly, only the corners of her lips curving upwards.
"What?" he asks. "What's wrong with my face?"
"There's nothing wrong with your face, you've grown into it quite nicely," she says offhandedly.
"You're smiling at it, though." Even his friends don't smile at his near-constant glower. (They obviously stick around for his dazzling personality.)
"You're a prickly pear," she responds, as if that's an actual reason for what had just transpired.
(And this is where Ed wants to shoot himself in the foot.)
"Whatever you say, Loony."
She turns, slowly, and scrutinizes his face; he feels exposed and bare under her gaze.
Did I say something wrong?
"I suppose if it's you, I don't mind."
He's completely lost. "Don't mind what?"
Luna packs away her belongings and grabs an apple from one of the many bowls on the table as she gets up.
"Luna," she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. "My name is Luna."
"I thought your name was Loony?"
She laughs, the sound like the jangle of tiny bells.
"Loony means 'mad', like 'loony bin'," she says. "It's what the others call me."
Ed blanches and then his entire face colors. "Oh, fuck. Sorry, Luna. Luna. Fucking shit."
She laughs again, her long hair shaking as she does.
"We're even, Fullmetal."
Luna walks away with a smile and a wiggle of her fingers and Ed's left alone at a table he doesn't belong at, hoping no one nearby overheard their conversation just now. He lets his head fall down onto the table and mutters to himself as the rest of the Ravenclaws eye his intrusion warily.
He had only ever heard the other kids call her Loony in passing and had thought it was just another one of those weird wizard names.
"That was mortifying," Ed mumbles.
In the end, she hadn't explained how she knew about his title. He's guessing it's some form of magic, but the girl is literally twelve, so he feels it's pretty unfair that she has intel on him that shouldn't be possible to access. Unless she was in his head. Which would mean she had seen far more than just his title.
Fuck, Ed has more research to do. A lot more research.Fred and George follow Ed around in their free time after the Sunday showdown and are disappointed to discover that Ed doesn't do much outside of class, other than speed-read every available book in the library and brood like the goth he definitely is.
They also spend a decent amount of time spreading rumors about the boy's gloves, settling on the idea that he had a "golden touch". (And they have quite a laugh over that, don't they?)
But other than amusing themselves from afar, like with the now widely-spread rumors, half of the Weasley twins is losing his patience with the new kid.
"This is boring," George whispers. "He's a nerd with a short temper. Let's move on."
"C'mon, Georgie, you know he's more than that."
"C'mon, Freddie, you know he's not."
Fred pouts and George rolls his eyes. They're sitting in a far corner of the library, away from Madam Pince and Ed's eyes and ears, for the eleventh time that week. Who even reads this much? (Hermione, clearly, but she's been mental since she arrived.)
George is still on the fence regarding Ed, but he's not going to argue with Fred again when he's dead set on befriending the tosser. They bicker, because it's unavoidable and a normal aspect of their relationship, but George doesn't want to fight, and that makes the difference.
He groans softly. "I thought the kid was in Hufflepuff. Why is he torturing himself like this? Why is he torturing us like this?"
"Maybe it's a habit from homeschool?"
"Maybe you two should get a hobby," someone whispers. The twins nearly jump out of their own skins as they turn to face Ed, who's glowering at them.
"Follow me," he says quietly, heading towards the library door, "or die a slow, horrible death by Madam Pince. Your choice."
Well, that isn't ominous at all.
The three of them make their way to the exit. Madam Pince watches them approach with suspicion, but her expression softens minutely when she spies Ed leading their little group out. He gives her a polite nod and she returns it.
What the hell was that, Fred thinks. He looks over at George, who's clearly thinking the same thing. George shrugs.
Ed is carrying four books under each arm, so he waits for Fred to open the door for him.
"Thanks," he says begrudgingly.
He only stops walking once he's reached one of those stone benches pushed up against the walls. Ed sets down his books and then spins around to face his shadows.
"What the fuck is up with you two? Why're you following me?" Ed barks. He stabs a finger against George's chest.
"Look, mate, you seem like you're having a hard time making friends -" Fred starts.
"Go figure," George mutters.
"- but we'd be interested in helping you out."
Ed stares at them blankly. "I don't even know you."
"I'm Fred!"
He elbows his brother in the ribs.
"… I'm George."
"And now we know each other!" Fred is practically vibrating with excitement, while George's resentment is palpable.
"Who says I want to be friends?" Ed crosses his arms.
"I do," Fred beams at him. "Let's be friends, Elric."
"No, thanks."
"It could be fun!" Fred insists.
"You two are the ones who spread that 'everything he touches turns to gold' bullshit, aren't you?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, just picks up his books and stalks off in the direction of the Hufflepuff dormitory.
"Great, let's give up," George says happily.
"Never," Fred says.
"He doesn't want to be friends, so let's leave him be."
"No."
"Kill me," George says, raising his arms in frustration.
"Also no."
"Fred."
"George."
They look at each other in exasperation.
"This better not be because you want to shag him."
"Slander!"
* * * * *Ed punches Malfoy in Defense Against the Dark Arts, in front of a professor.
Granted, the professor is Lupin and he's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts Hogwarts has had in the three years since Harry Potter began his schooling. He's intelligent, he's kind, and he's somehow cool, despite dressing like an elderly Muggle professor, elbow patches and all.
Their lessons in DADA are actually interesting and informative for once, especially after the shitshow that had been Gilderoy Lockheart last year, but things fall apart the day Lupin introduces the third-years to boggarts.
Boggarts, which happen to manifest themselves as a person's worst fear.
Third-years, which includes Ed, who's not really sure if his worst fear is even possible to represent in physical form.
After Lupin explains the logistics of the spell he'd like them to use, he explains he will allow everyone sufficient time to confront their fears and only step in if he deems the situation to be too dangerous.
"Boggarts are much weaker magically and physically than the things they imitate," he reassures them. "This is an excellent opportunity to face your fears."
Neville's boggart takes the shape of Severus Snape and Ed wants to punch the real Snape in the face all the more for it. He feels a swell of pride when he watches Neville dress the boggart in an old woman's clothes on his first try and it wrinkles Snape's face into a look of embarrassment. (Neville doesn't even stutter.)
Ravenclaw Padma Patil is afraid of spiders, as are a number of other students.
Slytherin Draco Malfoy is afraid of his father's disapproval.
His dorm mate Elliot is afraid of confined spaces.
Ed is in line three places behind Harry Potter and the closer he gets to the front, the worse he feels. The dread pooling in his stomach makes him physically ill.
Everyone is curious what Harry's boggart will take the shape of, with a few of them afraid they'll find themselves face to face with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
It's not Voldemort.
It's a dementor, mottled grey skin and knobby hands reaching out as if to grab Harry by the throat.
When it's clear that Harry is incapacitated at the sight of a dementor, Lupin interferes and the boggart quickly turns into an enormous glowing orb.
Weird, Ed thinks, but mostly he's grateful, because he's certain he won't have to face the boggart anymore, considering that Harry is sitting on the floor in shock.
Once the whole fiasco is resolved and Harry's assured everyone that he's perfectly fine, Lupin insists everyone have a chance to confront the boggart, "for the sake of education".
Two people later, Ed stands stiffly in front of the thing, which is still lingering in its previous shape; a wriggling mass of rats that the girl before him had spelled into a pile of puppies.
Nothing happens at first, and he sags with relief, hoping that he just got lucky.
(But Ed's never been lucky.)
The puppies disappear and the entirety of the classroom turns into an empty, white expanse.
He takes an uneasy step back.
"Did you miss me that much, little alchemist? "
There's the same laugh that haunts the nightmares, the ones where he wakes up near tears.
"Fuck you! " Ed snarls, lifting his wand. It's not real. Focus, Fullmetal.
The figure that appears before him is not Truth as he'd last seen them.
It's Al. It's Al as he would be at fourteen with blonde hair and round eyes and arms and legs and a real body. But the wide grin, the almost animal look of it stretched across Al's face, is all Truth.
"Brother, it's so easy, just say the word, and I'll be gone. "
It's Al's voice too.
He doesn't move. He can't move.
Truth is right in front of him, the grin sharp. Al's eyes look down on him and there is no kindness in them.
This isn't Al. This isn't Al!
They splay Al's hand flat against his chest.
"He died crying for you, you know. Begging you to find him."
Ed can't hear, he can't breathe, he can't think.
"Al," he whispers.
"Why didn't you come, Brother? "
Al's voice distorts as his body becomes deformed, the soft tissue melting off to reveal bone. On the white expanse of the floor, a familiar circle draws itself out in blood, what's left of Al in the middle of it all.
"You'll bring me back, Brother, won't you? "
His wand clatters to the floor.
The blackened sludge that was supposed to be their mother wheezes between teeth exposed by a lipless mouth. The eyes unblinking, shiny black like beetles.
His ports gnaw at his flesh, the pain unbearable and blinding.
"RIDDIKULUS!"
Al's rearranged corpse disappears, the transmutation circle fades, the whiteness recedes, and Ed is on his hands and knees, gasping for breath in a classroom full of children who watch him warily."Are you alright, Edward?" Lupin is careful not to touch him, but crouches so that his feet are in Ed's peripheral vision.
"I'm fine."
Lupin's brow furrows. "Come again?"
Ed controls his breathing. "I'm fine. Sorry, sir."
"Nothing to apologize for, Edward. Are you sure you're alright?"
He eases himself onto his knees, avoiding Lupin's extended hand. "I'm sure. I'm fine, sir."
He stands, discarded wand in hand, willing his legs to stop shaking. His ports are throbbing so badly he has to limp, but he tries to move as discreetly as possible.
The other students in class are buzzing with restless energy, no doubt another rumor in the works.
"Did you see that!?"
"And I thought Potter would have the scariest boggart, hands down."
"What language was that?"
"No wonder he associates with Longbottom. He's off his rocker, just like Longbottom's parents," Malfoy says in a low voice to his entourage, snickering as he does.
Malfoy doesn't even have time to cry for help as Ed's right hand grips the front of his robes.
"You're right," Ed says. "I'm fucking insane."
With that, Ed's clenched left hand collides with the side of Malfoy's face and Malfoy yelps. He clutches his right eye with a trembling hand.
He whimpers under Ed's glare and he winces when Ed leans forward.
"Say shit about Neville again and I'll punch with my right," he says softly, directly into Malfoy's ear. He lets go of his robes and Malfoy lands on his ass.
He immediately gets detention with Lupin for the next three months (on top of the detentions he already has with McGonagall) and he loses Hufflepuff another hundred points in one go (reaching a grand total of 400, probably a record), but from the murderous gleam in his eye and the angry line of his mouth directly following the incident, no one is willing to antagonize him over the punch. Most of them think that Malfoy probably deserves it, prick that he normally is, and many actually feel vindicated by Ed's actions.
"The guy is barking mad," Ron says in awe. "He's terrifying, really, but I'd eat a broom to watch him punch Malfoy again."
Ed's first encounter with Malfoy becomes the latest hot gossip at Hogwarts and he quickly learns that the rest of the students think he's some kind of gangster and associate his gloves and long sleeves with tattoos identifying him as such.
If it keeps them from trying to look at my automail, who cares.
The amount of people who want to talk to him decreases significantly. His dorm mates can't even look him in the eyes anymore and Justin becomes that much more unbearable to be around, so Ed does his best to stay out of the room as much as possible, slipping in late at night to sleep for a few hours and leaving well before the sun rises.
He had originally been planning to steer clear of Luna as well, even though he'd been eating every meal by her side before the punch had happened, but that plan is thrown out when she gives him a Look. Are twelve-year-olds really supposed to be this intuitive?
"Fullmetal," she says softly with a smile when he slides into the seat next to hers.
"Loony," he says fondly, although he doesn't smile. His eyes travel over the others eating in the Great Hall, everyone avoiding his gaze, but staring when they think he doesn't notice.
"Don't worry about it," she says. She always knows what to say.
Ed had accepted after the fourth meal he'd shared with Luna that she simply understood things that others didn't and she could read people the way Ed reads books, like she consumed them.
He lets her call him Fullmetal, and she does so warmly, kindly, which is not how it's normally used, but Ed finds he doesn't mind it. She likes it when he calls her Loony, because "it takes power away from those that use it to hurt me". And he keeps eating and chatting with her at mealtimes, even if it does cause others to give Luna a wide berth.
(She insists he not worry about it each time.)
Things with Luna are fine, but Ed also goes out of his way to not cause problems for Neville, who he had been on relatively good terms with prior to the boggart lesson.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Neville confronts him a week later, in the library. It's been seven days of Ed barely speaking to him, doing the entirety of their potions assignments in silence and leaving as soon as Snape grades their final submission. Ed is also plainly trying not to prolong any conversation they do have and he's abnormally gruff. He won't discuss herbology with him either.
"We can't talk in here unless you want to piss Irma off," Ed whispers back. He's nearly finished with the unrestricted section of the Hogwarts library, since he basically started living here after the initial outbreak of the rumors; he's currently working his way through the books on advanced divination, which he thinks is a load of bullshit, but that's not stopping him from reading it in the first place.Irma?" Neville repeats, a bit too loud.
"No talking in the library!" Madam Pince approaches Ed's table with an expression that promises certain death. Naturally, the two of them get kicked out, although Madam Pince seems more upset with Neville than Ed.
"Told you," Ed says in front of the library door. He had managed to bring two books along with him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Neville repeats. He chases after Ed, who had started walking away.
"I'm not," Ed replies. He doesn't stop to wait for Neville.
Neville scowls and grabs Ed by the arm. "Don't lie to me."
Ed stills, because Neville is digging his nails into his right arm. (His automail arm.)
"I'm not lying. I just didn't want to give you a shitty reputation from me hanging around. Haven't you heard? I'm a gang member, apparently." He snorts. The rumor mill at Hogwarts really lacks imagination.
Neville allows Ed to gently pull his arm out of his grip. His face contorts.
"Do you think so little of me that you think those stupid rumors would bother me?"
Ed looks at the hurt expression on Neville's face and is taken aback.
"Of course not, I just don't want to cause you any problems."
"Is this about what Malfoy said?"
"… so you did hear that."
This time, Neville snorts. "It wouldn't be the first time Malfoy said something shitty to me."
"Watch your fucking language," Ed says in all seriousness.
Neville rolls his eyes, but then somberly asks, "Do you know about my parents?"
Ed shifts his weight, ill at ease. Parents are a touchy subject for him, so he'd know better than most how awful this could be to talk about.
"No. But you've never mentioned them, so I'd guessed something happened to them."
He's only ever heard Neville talk about his extended family, particularly his grandmother, whom he lives with.
"They're not dead," Neville says, but he stops and struggles as he tries to continue. "They're, erm, I mean, they're, they're -"
"You don't need to tell me, Neville. I appreciate the thought." Ed watches the tension in Neville's shoulders bleed away. "I won't avoid you anymore, thanks for kicking my ass about it."
Neville smiles and he lights up like a child on Christmas as he starts prodding him to share his opinions on their ongoing herbology project. It makes Ed regret his actions; he should have had better faith in his friends.
And isn't it surprising who considers him their friend.
He knows Neville is his friend because he's not afraid to give Ed shit and he knows Luna likes him enough to consider him a friend, even if they don't talk as often.
But the day after the punch, Blaise, the arrogant bastard he'd run into his first morning at Hogwarts, catches him in the hallway and smirks.
"Loved your work on Malfoy's face, dear. It was quite the improvement."
He leaves Ed standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway.
It's a brief interaction, but no one talks to Ed willingly, and from what Ed's seen, Blaise doesn't talk to anyone willingly, so it must mean something. Right?
And then there are the twins.
Ed knows they're creeping on him in their free time, even after he expressed his lack of interest in friendship, but he leaves them be, because he's not going to give in just because they're stubborn.
But a few days after the boggart issue, George pulls back the chair to Ed's left at his usual table in the library and sits down.
"Literally how many times are people going to try to talk to me in the library, the worst fucking place to have a conversation," Ed mutters. He gets up and raises an eyebrow when he realizes George is alone. "Where's Fred?"
"I'm Fred," George says.
"No, you're not."
Then Ed picks up the stack of books on the table and starts wandering the library, putting them back in their proper places. George trails after him quietly, earning a suspicious frown from Madam Pince.
It's only because the library is so silent that George overhears the quiet encouragements and words of thanks the perpetually grumpy Hufflepuff gives to the books as he returns them to the shelves. The juxtaposition of Ed's black leather and tough glare with his almost reverent tone is jarring.
That's… surprisingly cute , George admits to himself reluctantly. He quickly shakes the thought from his mind.
When Ed is finished shelving, he returns to the table, grabs his one notebook and heads for the door.
"Thank you, Irma, I'll be back tomorrow."
Merlin's pants, did he just call Madam Pince Irma?!
Madam Pince smiles ever so slightly, only the corners of her mouth curving up. "Good night, Edward." She glares at George, eyes hard. "Mr. Weasley."
When they're both outside of the library doors, Ed turns to George.
"So, where's Fred?"
"I am Fred!" George insists. He doesn't want to admit he had sought him out when he had made it clear he didn't like the kid.
"Again, no. But anyways, why're you bothering me?"How could this kid possibly tell the difference between him and George?
"That's rude," George says, sticking out his tongue. "Can't friends say hi without a reason?"
Ed stares at George. "I was under the impression your brother wanted to be my friend. Not you."
George grins at that. "Right, 'cause I was 'under the impression' that you were a violent maniac."
"Mhm, you must not have many other friends if you haven't heard the rumors. I am a violent maniac."
"I'm actually here to talk to you about that…," George trails off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I heard from my brother, Ron, about your boggart."
Ed scrutinizes George, specifically his hair. "That makes a lot of sense."
"It does?"
"Yeah, you look alike."
"What?"
"You said you had a brother named Ron. There's a Ron Weasley in a bunch of my classes. You look alike."
George's mouth hangs open. "Wait, you didn't know I'm a Weasley? That Fred and I are Weasley's?"
Ed's face scrunches and he shrugs. "Should I have known?"
George looks at Ed's genuinely confused expression and relaxed body language: he's not lying, he's just doesn't care. He doesn't really care about anything the average wizard would consider important information. George laughs. "I'm starting to get why Fred likes you."
"Thanks, I guess? Anyways, you were saying?"
"Right. Ron told me about your," George waves a hand, "you know. Boggart."
He's never seen someone's face darken so quickly.
"And?" Ed snaps.
"And. And I, er, wanted to check in. On you."
The fury in Ed's features disappears as suddenly as it had appeared. "Why would you want to do that?"
George chews on the inside of his cheek. He's a little concerned the Hufflepuff might lash out at him, but he remembers what Ron and Harry had said and forces himself to say it anyway.
"You had a brother, right?"
It's as if his question drains the life from Ed's body. George winces at the way Ed's eyes become hollow and the energy that normally radiates from his every action vanishes. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.
"How do you know that?"
"Ron said your boggart looked a lot like you. And that you spoke the same language."
"Oh."
He looks small, George decides, when he sees how Ed's shoulders hunch.
"We don't have to talk about it," George says. He sits down on the ledge of one of the open arches facing the courtyard and pats the space next to him. "Just let me tell you something."
Ed sits down wearily, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"We did boggarts in third year too," George says. "It really sucks. I get why they teach it and everything, but it's one of the most awful things they made us do."
Ed listens quietly. The hallways are empty, because most people are still at the Great Hall, eating dinner.
"Can't say I know the specifics of your boggart, but it sounded scarily similar to mine."
"What?"Watching your brother die," George says. "Not a good time."
"You see Fred die," Ed asks quietly. Rhetorically.
"I see all of them die, actually," George responds. "I have three older brothers, I have Fred, I have Ron, and I have a younger sister."
"Big family," Ed comments.
"It's a lot sometimes, but I wouldn't trade them for anything."
They both sit without speaking for a while.
"Why did you tell me this?"
George rubs his nose and feigns nonchalance. "You're scarier than McGonagall, so I figured no one asked how you were doing, because they didn't want you to freak out and punch them in the face."
It's true. Luna doesn't comment on the boggart issue and Neville avoided the topic entirely after his confrontation. Ed isn't the kind of person who likes to talk about his feelings in the first place, so he hadn't cared that the only people willing to associate with him didn't bring up his crap.
(He is surprised that the Hogwarts rumor mill hadn't dug its claws into his boggart's form. He doesn't know what to make of that.)
George has hated me from the moment I twisted Fred's arm and yet he's here, trying to make sure I'm not traumatized by Al's death.
"You think I'm scarier than McGonagall?"
"Absolutely," is the prompt reply.
Ed laughs, actually laughs, and the sound startles George so badly he almost falls backwards off the ledge.
It's nice though. Ed laughs with his mouth wide open and his head thrown back, his eyes glittering with amusement. Ed laughs only when he means it.
"You know, you'd be more approachable if you laughed like that more often."
"Why do you think I don't?" A pause. "If you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."
"You wouldn't dare."
Ed shrugs.
"Thanks, by the way," he says awkwardly. "For checking in."
George smiles.
"Guess I can tell Fred we're finally friends."
Ed snorts.
"Sure, asshole."
"Hey!"
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder