Ed settled himself at the Griffindor table beside Hermione. The moment food appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, Ed pounced on it.

"Blimey mate, you eat more than I do." Ron marveled, as the blond quickly devoured his third plateful.

"I feel like I haven't had anything all day." Ed said, before pausing a moment to think, "Scratch that, I know that I haven't had a thing to eat all day."

As the meal wrapped up, Ed turned his attention to the toad in pink, who was sitting primly in her seat. She looked very self-satisfied and Ed found himself thanking his lucky stars that he didn't have to be decent to her like Mustang did. As the night progressed, he only grew more thankful. Umbitch's speech had be one of the most frustrating things Ed had ever had to deal with. Sure, Ameteris may be ruled by a military dictatorship, but at least nobody pretended that it wasn't; this Ministry was just irritating.

Ed took special note of what Dumbledore said about Hagrid and Hohenheim. It sounded as though they could pop back up any day now and Ed had no idea what to do if he did. Hohenheim had probably not spoken much of Ameteris, but if he returned to find that the country had employed two military personnel here and were lying about the nature of the country, he would be suspicious. Ed wasn't sure where the old man's loyalties would lie, but he figured that the old man had never done him any favours before so why would he start now? The old bastard would probably delight in screwing this mission up for his son. Which brought Ed to his other problem. No matter what would happen, he was going to have to see the old man again.

Ed hated the old man. He hated him with ever bone of his body, every inch of his soul, and every fiber of his being. The man who had just picked up and gone, leaving his sick wife and two young sons to fend for themselves could never face a punishment severe enough to satisfy the only child who could have been old enough to remember him. As he sat at the Griffindor table, Ed imagined a million tortures for the man who he had once called 'father', tortures that would have made the vengeful Slytherin house proud. Yet more than executing any of these strategies, Ed wanted most to simply never see the man again. He hoped that now was the moment that Hohonheim would walk out on the wizards, just as he had walked out on his family all those years ago.

The speeches subsided and the children began to file out of the great hall one by one. Ed made to follow Harry when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned slowly, meeting the eyes professor McGonagall. "Follow me please," she said, "The Headmaster would like to speak with you."

He followed her through the crowd of children, who parted like the red sea when faced with her disapproving stare. The climbed many stairs and walked through many halls until they arrived in front of a stone gargoyle "Fizzing Wizbee!" she declaired, Ed carefully maintained his straight face.

The Gargoyle twisted upwards, revealing a spiral staircase. Ed followed the teacher up and with a knock at the door, they entered the headmaster's office.

Ed marveled at the state of the office. Every clear space had been filled with parchments, quills, magical instruments or the like. He caught sight of the troublesome sorting hat, which sat on a bookshelf quietly. On a perch, halfway across the room, sat one of the most beautiful creatures Ed had ever seen. The bird was red and orange and it sang a happy tune when Ed entered.

"It's a Pheonix." Ed turned to the speaker. The old man leaned across the cluttered desk that he sat at, fingers steepled as he watched Edward over his half-moon spectacles. He had a friendly spark in his eye that unnerved Ed a bit. The young alchemist had been around enough powerful people in his life to know that the man who sat before him was not a man to be trifled with. Everyone in the room looked to him, the portraits, the other professor, even the mystical bird seemed to hang on his every work. "Hello Mr. Elric, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Usually Ed would brush such formalities off, but with this man, he did not. He felt vulnerable, and that scared him. He would erect as many walls between himself and those eyes as possible, even if one of those walls was simply to keep the professional decorum practiced in society.

"Professor." He addressed the man simply, "what do you want."

Well, decorum on the professor's side at least, it had never been one of Ed's strengths.

The man's eyes glittered at Ed, "I hear you are from Ameteris?"

Ed didn't answer, the question had been rhetorical.

"I must say that I am a great supporter of building bridges, Mr. Elric. Your nation seems most peculiar and we are excited to learn more about it as I am excited to learn more about you." Ed decided that he would keep as much about him out of this man's hands as possible. "Our own alchemy professor, Professor Van Hohenheim, is from Ameteris, though I must admit he speaks very little of his home. It is odd, he looks very similar to you."

"Amestrian colouring." Ed offered up curtly.

"Yet your guardian looks so different."

"Mustang is the son of immigrants," Ed said, "his parents are from Xing, a neighbouring country." It was true. He was.

Dumbledore nodded, "Well Mr. Elric, as eager for friendship between our countries as I am, I feel morally obligated to warn you that despite the Ministry's refusal it admit it, Voldemort is back."

Silence ruled the room for a moment, the three people standing at its center unmoving.

"Impossible." This was Ed. His eyes had narrowed, "I do not deny that something of grave danger is facing this nation, headmaster, but the dead do not come back to life."

"You seem very convinced, many a wizard have spent years searching for a way to bring back the dead, is it so impossible that someone has finally found a way?" Ed wondered if the old man was serious. If Dumbledore was as wise as everyone seemed to think he was, he would know that the dead are never coming back. Then again, maybe he was as batty as the prophet seemed to think.

"Yes." Ed replied, "The dead are dead, that will never change."

The old may surveyed the youth with a slight smile. "You are wiser than many wizards three times your age." He said, "You are a very interesting young man.

Ed didn't respond.

"You are also correct, there is no way to revive the dead," Dumbledore conceded, eyes twinkling merrily, "however Voldemort was never dead."

This gave Ed pause. He examined the old man in front of him carefully before speaking, "I'm listening."

"When the spell that led to Voldemort's downfall rebounded off the small infant known as Harry Potter, it immediately killed the soul who had cast the spell."

"Then Voldemort is dead old man."

"But what if the entire soul was not present that night?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Elric, I tell you this in confidence, because the sorting hat has attested to your trustworthiness and morality."

Ed glanced that the old hat out of the corner of his eye. The old hat had not moved an inch at being mentioned.

Was the hat crazy? Ed wondered. How could it, knowing his mission would end in the betrayal of every person in this castle, attest to his trustworthiness? The only reassurance Ed took from this was that the old thing clearly didn't plan on blowing his cover.

"Mr. Elric you must tell no one what I am about to tell you. Should Voldemort discover that we know this then it would be infinitely more difficult for us to destroy him." Ed nodded slowing. "Have you heard of Horcruxes young man?" Dumbledore asked.

"No."

"A horcrux is a portion of an individual's soul bound to an object in order to attain some form of immortality." Dumbledore explained, "I suspect the Voldemort has many.

Ed'd hear was spinning. A soul mutilated like that, how horrifying!

But at the same time, a soul could not be bound to an object infinitely. Eventually, the bond would fade, and the creature would die. Voldemort had, in his greed for immortality, actually shortened his lifespan.

Unless…

Ed frowned, could magic bind a soul eternally?

"How would he have split his soul?" Ed asked, running different arrays through his mind that might have that affect.

"Murder."

His thoughts paused for a moment, before taking off again at a million miles a minute. Murder. That was important, how was that important?

It was important because this was the first time there had been a cost, Ed realised, this was the first time magic had cost anything at all! Everything else just happened! Mice turned into mugs, limbs grew back, and brooms flew. There was no cost, or at least no visible costs, for any of these magics.

But to split a soul, to split a soul there was a cost. Life. If magic that powerful cost life, than perhaps the rest of it did too, just not as obviously. Ed's mind raced, had he found it already?

Focusing back on the topic at hand, Ed spoke again. "Okay old man, but why tell me."

Dumbledore smiled, "Why young man, as your guardian so kindly pointed out in the Daily Prophet, building friendships is vital. Facing an enemy alone is far more difficult than facing an enemy with allies."

Ed's eyes narrowed, "You want Ameteris's help."

The old man answered. "Yes."

"We will see, old man, that isn't my decision to make."

Roy,

Everything is going well at Hogwarts. I boarded the train this morning and met a couple of nice kids, Harry Potter, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. They all believe that Voldemort is back, as does the old coot who runs this place. I'm not an idiot, the dead cannot come back to life, however they are very insistent. I learned that an Amestrian teaches Alchemy here, a Professor Van Hohenheim! I wonder what he could be like? It will be interesting to meet another Amestrian who has lived here for ten years now. I'm sure his insights on a country he has made home will be interesting to hear. The woman who picked up at the train station is here. She is proud of her Ministry background and wants to improve the school. I think it is an important part of government to improve upon a country's educational system. And the zeal she expressed in doing it is downright Amestrian! The Headmaster personally welcomed me to Hogwarts after the feast. He's really old, Roy! His age reminds me of the play we saw in central a while back about the man who was afraid of dying, do you remember? Flight from Death I think they called it. It freaked Al out a bit. He thought was the man had done to his mind was a bit like what happens to him when the armour falls apart. I wonder if magic might hold longer? I thought it was so cool how the old man never died. I guess being weak for so long after a close call sucked though. Oh well, I guess I'm rambling now.

See you soon Roy.

Your ward,

Ed.

Ed frowned at the senseless letter he held in his hand. He had been too tiered last night to properly code, so instead of the perfectly manicured report he usually wrote; the letter was a mess of seemingly unattached ideas. Not that Roy wouldn't get it, but the nonsensical nature of it might prompt an enemy to reread it.

Ed shrugged, it was too early for them to be suspicious of them yet, so the letter would probably go unopened, but he would get told off in the reply he was sure of it. He glanced around the owlery for his demon bird. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe the spawn of Satan hadn't managed to make it to the castle yet. That fear was quickly erased when a brown blur of feathers dived towards his face. Ed ducked; the bird missed and came up an inch short of the wall.

Ed grabbed the bird by its leg, holding it outstretched at a safe distance from his face. The owl glared at him, he glared at the owl. "I see you're still a little bitch." He said. The rays of the dawn sun lit up the owlery with an orange glow. The boy and his owl faced off in silence.

"I propose a truce." Ed said, "You can do whatever you'd like, shit on students' heads, divebomb teachers, roost in that horrible tree outside and create a family of small tiny Satans, I don't care." The bird watched Ed closely, as though it was thinking over his offer. "However when I need an letter taken you come and get the letter, I'll give you something really delicious, you know, some bread, a chicken leg, the blood of my enemies, and you take the letter where it needs to be taken without hurting me or my correspondent. You got that?" When the bird didn't struggle, Ed took that as a yes. "Take this to Roy Mustange at the Ministry of Magic." He said, handing Owl the letter, "And, ummm, here." He brought some bread out of his pocket that he had hoarded from last night's feast. The owl took both and without as much as a scratch, left to deliver the message.

Ed sighed in relief. Now that that was taken care of. He could continue on his way.