Still living, still doin' stuff.
Probably gonna take June off since I'm gonna be moving 1,200 miles that month and THAT will be fun, but we shall see.
Chapter warning: Snape's teaching cuz he's such an asshole
/
The beds in Gryffindor Tower were wonderful, and Ron would, naturally, be the first person to sing the praises of the accommodations for Hogwarts students. However, he did have to admit that when it came to trying to get the attention of a potentially violent alchemist, not being able to knock on curtains did present a bit of a problem.
He tried anyway.
"Hey, Elric?" he called, slapping the rich velvet, hoping he wasn't about to be grabbed and slammed into the floor. "You awake?"
There was a wordless grunt, which told Ron very little. He really didn't want to keep dealing with the guy in the morning, but Harry wasn't going to be up to it. The nightmares had been back last night, so it would be best to leave him till breakfast to wake up properly.
Ron sighed, and pulled the curtain back ever so slightly. Elric was up, he was vertical, even, sitting against the headboard, huddled under the thick blankets, glaring at the intrusion.
"What you want?"
"It's time for breakfast, and I don't want you to be a berk all day because you're hungry."
Elric tried to give a dismissive snort, but it came across more like dainty sniff of disapproval with the way he tilted his head away from the light.
"I will be there. Am warming first."
Ron shrugged. "Don't blame me if you get cranky."
Harry poked his head out from his own curtains, eyes bleary with sleep, intensified by the way Harry looked whenever he wasn't wearing his glasses. "What's happ'nin?"
"Elric being Elric."
He vanished back behind the velvet drapes, muttering something that sounded like, 'it's too early for this,' and Ron couldn't agree more.
/
Hermione smiled at the letter that sat in front of her breakfast plate. Her parents had explained to her what 'insurance' was ages ago, and it was always nice to put a bit of her knowledge to good use.
It must be said, however, that this was certainly not the type of insurance her parents had been talking about when she had asked all those years ago. Hermione did try to take note of that while negotiating this meeting, and it all seemed quite reasonable.
After all, one should be able to make reparations for past mistakes.
/
It was supposed to be Harry's night off; he didn't have occlumancy lessons, his homework was manageable, and he was looking forward to trying to get a few extra hours of sleep. Unfortunately, Ed seemed to have other ideas.
He glowered at Harry until they were both under the cloak and making their way to the Room of Requirement even though it was before curfew. There was no explanation for this, because of course there wasn't. Ed explaining things was probably a fluke.
Harry probably shouldn't even be wandering the halls with him, there wouldn't be a helpful point to this, he was sure. Just more time where people decided where he was going and what he was doing without telling him what was going on, he thought as they walked through the door.
The Room was well-lit, with a black floor that felt odd when Harry scuffed a shoe across the matte surface. Al was already there, a piece of chalk comically tiny in his hands as he knelt on the floor and drew alchemy symbols.
Oh. The entire floor was made of chalkboard. Huh.
The door closed behind them, and Ed pulled off the cloak.
"Hello brother, hello Harry," Al said, sitting back and waving. "I hope it is a good evening for you."
Harry shrugged. He wanted to yell at Ed, but he didn't really want to do it in front of the guy's younger brother. Al hadn't done anything like this, really. Except…
Except he was always on Ed's side, and he didn't really seem to go out of his way to tell –
"So now I will tell you why we are here," Ed said, draping the cloak on a newly extant coat hanger.
"I – what?" The anger in Harry's mind stopped and tried to back up while surprise tried move to the forefront. His thoughts felt spinny. Harry settled for watching Ed suspiciously until things started making sense.
Ed sighed. "In the winter break, I notice that you have –" he gestured vaguely at Harry, then turned to Al.
There was a short conversation in Amestrian, where Ed gestured again at Harry, and at his own head while Harry felt his frustration begin to creep back to the forefront, because now they weren't going to switch back to English for a while.
Before he could say anything, Ed turned right back around to him, and continued.
"It is hard to find words in English. You have strange feeling head, and there is alchemy symbol that looks like this scar on your face," Ed said, tapping his own forehead. "You are having these bad dreams, you are having other strange times, and I am thinking there may be a connecting reason.
"So! I bring you here, and we can find out!"
It was an explanation. Ed had still dragged him around when he wanted to relax, but he had explained why. It was something.
Three hours past curfew and a mountain of chalk stubs later with no signs of stopping, Harry realized why Ed had brought the invisibility cloak. The room gracefully provided him a warm cup of coffee that he sipped while Ed and Al poured over various alchemy symbols they had written on the far wall for comparison. Sometimes they called him over to stand in this circle or that and peered at his forehead.
It seemed that, according to them, lightning was some kind of… symbol of 'starting something' OR destroying something OR change, depending on the angle and positioning in the alchemy circle.
Harry had waited all summer for people to start explaining things to him. Now he was starting to wish they would stop. Hermione was going to be livid when she realized that she missed this.
/
The longer they studied Harry's scar, the more unnerved Al became. He knew that the man who had given Harry the scar was a terrible person, obviously. You don't go around killing literal babies unless you were basically the worst. But this…
Ed had explained what he suspected after his (very rude) experiment back in Grimmauld Place, and Al was beginning to think that once again his brother might be right. It would explain some things, but they weren't sure where the snake fit in, honestly.
But if they were right, then occlumancy was both more important and more difficult for Harry.
Al hoped they weren't right.
/
That morning, Harry had informed Hermione that he had spent the night trying to sleep in the Room of Requirement while Ed and Al had done 'alchemy experiments' on him. He told her this rather unprompted because she "had that look on her face like she was going to say something that was going to be very smart but very hard to follow," and Harry didn't want her to get mad trying to explain it to him while he was tired.
Then he had fallen asleep in his oatmeal, so Hermione had to concede that he might have a point.
That didn't change the fact that they had something very important to do on their first weekend at Hogsmeade, and Harry had to be ready.
Harry was snoring while Ron layered bacon on his cheeks, and Hermione decided that it could wait until tomorrow.
Then she carefully levitated a tea saucer to sit in his hair, while Edward started stealing the bacon off of Harry's face, almost as fast as Ron was putting it there.
/
Draco tried not to stare openly across the Great Hall. He had the Inquisitorial Squad badge, and the power to deduct as many house points as he liked. He certainly had more power than Granger did, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Professor Umbridge sitting perfectly straight, twitching every time Professor McGonnagal looked at her.
Meanwhile, Granger was deep in conversation with Elric, who would not be speaking to him for another six long days.
His father had gambled on a man who some claimed was less than stable.
At the table, Umbridge scribbled furious notes and didn't look any of the other teachers in the eye.
The badge started to tug on his robes. Draco did not want to grow up in the shadow of his father.
/
The manor was empty and mouldering and quiet again. Sirius felt the oppressive musk of centuries of decayed wretchedness begin to sink into his bones, yet he couldn't bring himself to move. He had planned to shave today, but it didn't truly matter. This was where he came from, this is what he failed, this is where he was doomed to –
Tap tap tap.
An owl at the window cut off his thoughts.
The Order might not be truly pleased with Grimmauld Place getting a regular owl post delivery, but Sirius doubted that they paid enough attention to his activities to truly notice. Remus might be the only person who might catch it, but he was allowed to be out and doing things, and any time he spent in the house was more for his recovery than any true social visit.
Sirius opened the letter and smiled down at it. He tapped the paper with his wand and the ink rearranged itself into a language he could read.
Dear Mr. Black,
I hope this letter finds you well. After I got back I had a lot of orders to catch up on. Winter can be tough on automail! The wild temperature changes alone can do a lot of damage to the nerve wires if you're not careful with the casing!
That's why I won't be able to write you a long letter, I hope you understand.
I still wanted to get this back to you as soon as possible, though, so here's some really light things that I thought the owl could carry that might still be useful to you.
The journey back wasn't fun at all. I don't understand why wizards want to be dragged around by their guts instead of using a train like normal people, but I'm back in Amestris now, so I won't have to deal with it. Unless maybe I get the chance to visit again!
It was a nice visit and there were so many nice people to meet, but maybe next time you can show me around that city we were in. Ed can come too! He has deep State Alchemist pockets, so he can fund whatever project we can think of!
I'd love to see a flying motorbike!
Sincerely,
Winry
Enclosed in the envelope were the tiniest screwdrivers Sirius had ever seen, with a few similarly sized screws carefully enclosed in a small drawstring bag. A few paper thin cogs and gears were strung together with twine, as were three sprigs no thicker than the string that tied them together.
Sirius stared at them for a long, long time. He didn't cry, but he felt something move glacially slow in his chest.
He sat down and pulled out three pieces of paper. He had letters to write.
/
The first month back, from Harry's point of view, was terrible, but in a mostly manageable way.
There were assignments, classes, and the threat of O.W.L.s, but somehow classwork seemed to have become the most pressing issue in his life. The occlumancy lessons were horrid, but Ed appeared at his elbow every time and sat with him through the whole thing, and somehow his presence kept Snape vaguely civil.
Sometimes Ed did essentially kidnap him for another night of what probably amounted to alchemical experimentation, but from what he could gather they seemed to be making some kind of headway on what, exactly, was wrong with his scar. They were never happy about the results of these sessions, and Ron reported that more often than not that he and Ed both would have terrible nightmares after, but Harry hadn't heard any hollow, chilling laughter in his head since they started, so he was giving them the benefit of the doubt.
It was much easier to communicate with Ed now that Al was here. He wasn't as good at English as Ed was, but he was much more willing to try and explain things, and was set to replace Ed as "Best Amestrian" any day now. Ed might have helped Harry through the summer, and he might have been there during a dementor attack, but Al hid cats in his armor body and that was frankly hilarious.
The first time Harry had seen that, he had laughed so hard he almost passed out. It had been nice.
It was also nice to see that Ed was serious about keeping people caught up with his schemes. (Al probably had a hand in that, another point for him being Best Amestrian.) Some details he kept to himself saying "no details, no knowing, no bad pretending, no interrogation," and a few other ominous things. The twins had pointed out that some people had important tests to prepare for, and Hermione was suddenly on the side of being busy elsewhere.
That had lasted all of three days before Ed had come back from some kind of morning altercation looking strangely pensive.
Malfoy had spent the rest of that week favoring his left leg and wincing when he chopped potion ingredients. Rumors abounded, and yet, strangely, Malfoy hadn't said anything about it.
Hermione had spent that week looking terrifyingly thoughtful, but by now Harry realized that Hermione was sometimes best left alone for those who didn't like to live dangerously, and he had let it be.
Unfortunately even if classes were his largest problems, that didn't mean the other worries were completely vanished. Umbridge was convinced that someone was breaking into her room, and she had stepped up recruitment of her Inquisitorial Squad and used them to increase patrols. Harry was sure Ed was behind this, somehow. It made life much harder for the D.A. to meet and have practices, but the only explanation Ed had offered at the time was that it was "good part of practice".
Three of the students in the D.A. had ended up fighting Ed over that comment. All three had ended up flat on their backs. At least their hand-to-hand skills had improved, according to Ed.
That had won Ed another round of impressed but worried murmurs, which he ignored so effortlessly Harry thought about asking for lessons. He already had enough on his plate though, so he forgot about it.
During that fight, though, Harry had spied something he couldn't forget; Luna and Hermione where whispering in the corner, only half watching the bout.
What Hermione wanted with Luna, Harry couldn't guess. Luna was alright in Harry's book, but Hermione seemed to be unable to stand the idea of the Quibbler.
It was a small question in the back of his mind he wondered about during the parts of History of Magic that he was awake for. It seemed like a relatively benign mystery.
Until he learned the answer.
/
Hogsmeade was not the best place for a meeting or a meet-up, as a certain Educational Edict proved, but it was the only place that students were really allowed outside the castle, so it would have to do. Hermione led Harry, and therefore Edward as well, through the snow.
Edward had never really come to a Hogsmeade weekend, and he didn't look pleased about joining them this time, but over the holidays his attitude towards his body guarding duties had changed. For the better, in Hermione's opinion, even if Harry didn't quite agree with her. Today Edward trudged through the snow with them, scowling fiercely.
"You didn't have to come, you know," Harry told him, not looking much happier himself.
"I think you know you are wrong," Edward said, not looking up from the path. "You have history with this woman, she have history with you. I keep things… in the present."
"I'm sure that 'keeping things in the present' won't be needed on your end," Hermione assured him. Her insurance policy would see to that.
Rita Skeeter sat at a corner table in the Three Broomsticks, looking much more drab than she had been last time she had been to Hogwarts and its surrounding environs. She did not look happy at all to see them, her eyes darting between the three of them.
"I was under the impression that the other young man in your posse was a Weasley," she said, scanning Edward's heavily bundled form. "And taller."
He bristled at that, but Skeeter continued.
"Perhaps there has been a falling out, hmm?"
"That's besides the point, entirely," Hermione told her, sitting down. "You know why you're here, and I suggest we stick to the topic."
The boys followed her lead. Edward seemed relieved to be in from the cold; as he sat down in the chair closest to the fire, he rubbed at his shoulder. Harry had made his displeasure about meeting with Skeeter known, but he was here, and he wanted to tell his story.
Half way through Harry's story, Edward stood up and returned with four piping hot teas, generously laying one at Skeeter's elbow.
The rest of the interview proceeded as well as Hermione could have expected. At the very least, Skeeter knew how to conduct an interview. She had to have climbed up the ranks somehow, and even if she had spent decades convincing people to talk to her. All of that dubious practice hadn't managed to whither away in less than a year, and now it could be finally put to good use.
/
It took less than 24 hours for The Quibbler to be banned in Hogwarts. Ed had to give it to Hermione, she wasn't half bad at this whole subversion thing.
Al had taken to stealing the confiscated copies of The Quibbler and hiding them around Umbridge's quarters before she was able to burn them. His brother was amazing, and one of the best people Ed had ever met, and he never, ever wanted to be on Al's bad side.
Umbridge had developed an interesting habit of drumming her fingers on her stubby wand when she was nervous. She was nervous quite a lot these days, and when she was feeling particularly out of control, she patrolled the halls with her wand drawn.
She wasn't a particularly imposing figure, her heels click-click-clicking across the stones as she took tiny hurried steps down the halls, but really she didn't need to be. She was a figure who spoke with the authority of the Ministry. She was a figure who could impose Educational Edicts on the most ancient institution of Hogwarts. She was a figure who was losing a fight to a pack of hormonal teenagers.
And she knew it.
It was only a matter of time, Ed knew, before she would retaliate in order to reassert control over the situation. It was going to be nasty. He tried to warn his wizard companions, but he wasn't sure how seriously they took him.
In the meantime, he focused on keeping the little students fit during their D.A. practice sessions. It was the least he could do for them. Some of them could even throw a punch that actually needed to be blocked these days!
There was also the matter of Draco Malfoy to deal with. A stuck up rich kid who'd been fed bullshit from birth. Ed doubted that the kid even really thought about what he was saying, and that was part of the problem. He wanted to learn alchemy, and once again, he had shown a glimmer of self-awareness. Ed had let him back into the little morning alchemy lessons. Part of it was genuine curiosity to see if Malfoy could learn to see beyond the short-sighted nonsense he'd been taught. The other part of it was that, besides his rudimentary understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, it was pretty obvious that Hermione got a kick out of watching him come in second best so often, and keeping Hermione amused was a pretty good move, all things considered.
Despite constantly being shown up, however, Malfoy kept coming to the alchemy lessons. He seemed to actually enjoy them, despite everything. Ed supposed rich kids hardly ever got a real challenge. It must be nice to see a challenge as a treat, but it might work towards his favor in the end. Malfoy was also one of Umbridge's head lackeys in the Inquisitorial Squad. If he really was actually learning something here on these cold snowy mornings, maybe he'd put it to use if it ever really came to that.
In any case, Ed would have to wait and see where Malfoy's loyalties would fall if he were pushed.
/
The crowd seemed to be felt before it could be seen, as Draco approached the Great Hall. The great press of people and anticipation spread from the circle of students shocked into stillness by the confrontation between the two primary forces at work in the school.
Draco pushed his way through, and felt his breath stutter as he saw Dumbledore and Umbridge facing off, a sobbing Professor Trelawny being escorted out in the background.
He wasn't exactly a fan of Dumbledore's, but even his Father had to admit the man had cunning. For all the additional power Umbridge had given him, she didn't have that. The gaudy Inquisitorial Squad pin pulling at the front of his robes seemed to be the perfect symbol; it looked impressive, but it had no true elegance. It just looked big and fancy, but behind the shiny silver burnish it was dross. Heavy dross that was absolutely ruining his clothes.
Of course Dumbledore getting ousted was good; but really, did it have to be by… her? She was ham-handed and increasingly unstable.
Last week, Crabbe had knocked papers off her desk, and she had span round and grabbed his hand so hard, her nails had left crescent indents in his skin for almost an hour, accusing him of hiding illicit material in her chambers. At the very least, Dumbledore knew who his allies were and treated them appropriately. Umbridge had laid hands on the scion of one of Wizarding Britain's foremost pureblood families! She had threatened them all with lines!
There was a rumor going around that Umbridge used a blood quill for lines. If she had done that to Crabbe or Goyle, Draco would have gotten his Father to sack her.
Draco wondered if he would still have to do that. He wondered if he would be able to do that.
If it was him against Umbridge without his Father, did he have anyone else to really turn to?
/
– it was dark underneath the stairs, and he knew the spiders were going to crawl on his socks again, they always did that – Dudley screamed about his birthday presents while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia reassured him in sickly sweet tones that they never used with him – the bacon looked perfect this morning, crackling happily – they weren't drunks they weren't drunks they weren't –
"Mr. Potter, it seems your efforts are even more pathetic than usual. Is there something you wish to explain?" Snape sneered, standing over Harry as he tried to catch his breath.
Dumbledore had left the castle, Umbridge was in charge, people were still talking about the article like it was a joke, he hadn't been able to sleep last night because a dark corridor and a pale hand that wasn't his wouldn't leave him alone –
"No, sir." Snape wouldn't listen anyway.
"Then perhaps you should turn your attention to the task at hand. Legillimens!"
– a flash of green light – a distant feeling of flying and a soothing rumble in his chest – high laughter – a pale hand reaching, reaching in the night – "Kill the spare-" – the long corridor –
Once again, Harry was on the stone floor of the Hogwarts dungeon.
"Have you been clearing your mind before you sleep, Potter?" Snape loomed over him, torchlight shadows casting his pale features into sharp contrast. "Are you so lax on this one thing? Do you not think that, maybe, the Dark Lord might deign to use you as a puppet to his own ends through this connection you have? Practice, boy!"
He raised his wand again. Before he could cast, Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!"
Snape's want flew across the dungeon in a burst of red light.
"You think I don't know?" he demanded. "If Voldemort climbs inside my head, that's it! It's over, isn't it? But I bet you'd like that! At least I'd be dead and out of your hair!"
A clap echoed through the room, and dancing lights pulled their attention to the corner of the room, where electricity danced around Ed as he shaped a spear from the floor. He smacked the butt on the ground, a thunk that rang in the deafening silence.
"Practice is over," he said, hefting the spear and pointing it somewhere in the space between Harry and Snape. "No more will be learned here. Maybe ever."
"Despite the Headmaster's departure, his instructions regarding the boy's tutoring in Occlumancy –"
"I see all your lessons. I see where you teach, I see where you attack," Ed said, not moving, but not relaxing. "Maybe you are done knowing new things."
"I have kept secrets safe from the Dark Lord. I doubt there are any others alive who can say the same."
"You think you can pass on skills, then act so!" Ed snapped, taking a few steps towards Snape.
Harry flinched back at the anger radiating off Ed, but Snape held his ground, his nostrils turning paper white, rage pouring off of him.
"If you think alchemy is an appropriate replacement for guarding the mind, then by all means, leave." Snape's voice was ice cold and deadly calm.
"I think I will," Harry said. "Ed's – Ed's right. If you're not going to teach properly, I might as well let him experiment on my scar with alchemy."
Ed nodded, and clapped his hands once more. Snape watched with narrow eyes as the spear returned to the ancient stones it had been mere moments before.
Harry could hear every breath he took clearly as he and Ed left the room, footsteps ringing loudly in the halls. The door closed, the echo sounding louder than if they had slammed it behind them. They said nothing, returning to Gryffindor Tower wordlessly as if they had agreed to by some silent pact.
When they did return, Hermione would be upset, but… As they walked down the hall towards the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry asked, "Why did you do that?"
Ed paused, head tilted to the side. "You don't know?"
Harry shrugged. "You said he wasn't teaching, but… that's just how Snape is. And he is right, Dumbledore wanted me to learn occlumancy. I hate it, but he did say so for a reason."
"That was not teaching."
Harry shrugged again. "Didn't you say your teacher was hard on you? Snape's an awful berk –"
But Ed was shaking his head. "Teacher was not hard like that. The lesson you learn from Snape is not survival, is not fighting. You learn magic. That was not teaching magic." He frowned, looking so intently at Harry that he took a step back. "That was not teaching," he repeated, leaning in. "You do not need rotten lessons like this."
"I think Hermione might disagree," Harry joked, or tried to. Ed seemed intent on seeing this conversation through. "I guess so –"
"No! You do not need rotten lessons," Ed insisted. "Believe me or do not. But I think if Snape does this to maybe Luna, you think different, yes?"
Harry opened his mouth, because of course – why would Luna –
"Then think maybe the way is different for Luna is different for you."
Ed nodded, then turned to enter the Tower. Harry hurried to follow him. What Ed said didn't feel… right, but it didn't feel… wrong, either. He'd have to think about it later.
/
A/N: the best part is when i get to write the golden trio doin Kid Stuff. The worst part is remembering that time is, like, a thing? and i am, as a mortal, beholden to it.
come over to my tumblr blog. it's buffpidgey and it's totally great if you like a random mishmash of fandoms. I might have to do some kind of poll to see what i'll write after this. the end IS coming my friends. the end is coming