Stand

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: On the Second Day of Christmas… a pipsqueak with metal limbs…

AN: So here's the second day of Christmas present direct from me to you. Now I have to run because I'm sure Ed is going to kill me for my previous comment. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy.

Chapter 1: Through the Fire

"What?" said Harry blankly.

"He left!" said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. "Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!"

"But—"

The revelation that his batty old cat-obsessed neighbor knew what dementors were was almost as big a shock to Harry as meeting two of them down the alleyway. "You're—you're a witch?"

A soft snort emanated from behind them, where the two blonds were standing, currently looking around and taking in their surroundings.

"I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I warned him—"

"This bloke Mundungus has been following me? Hang on—it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr. Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone—and now—oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!" she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. "Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!"

"You know Dumbledore?" said Harry, staring at her.

"Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on—I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag—"

"They won't be coming back," the raven haired wizard frowned. "Those two got sucked into the sky, when these two," he pointed over his shoulder at the brothers, "fell from it."

"Not that I actually know what's going on," the slightly taller of the two said in accented English, "but would you mind telling us where we are?"

"Uh, Little Whinging," Harry offered incredulously. When comprehension didn't seem to dawn on the pair, he tried again, "Surrey… England…."

"Oh, England, of course," the same one nodded, before he turned to his brother and hissed quietly, "Al, we were supposed to come out in Munich! How the hell did we end up here? What'd you do?!"

"Me!" Al whispered incredulously. "How is this my fault? This was your idea, brother!"

"Get up you useless lump, get up!" Mrs. Figg seemed to be ignoring the two strangers in favor of getting off the street.

But Dudley either could not or would not move. He was still on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight.

"I'll do it," Harry turned from the squabbling brothers, he took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved: With an enormous effort he managed to hoist Dudley to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting: His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.

"Hurry up!" said Mrs. Figg hysterically.

Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him toward the road, sagging slightly under his weight. Mrs. Figg tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner.

"Here," the taller brother went over and slipped his arm around Dudley as well, sharing the weight, though his arm seemed a bit stiff and awkward, "let me help. Least I can do. I'm Ed, by the way, Edward Elric. And that's my kid brother, Alphonse. Hey, Al, you don't happen to have any oil with you, do you?"

"Winry gave me some before we left," the younger brother shook his head. "She said you'd probably need it."

"Thanks," Ed chuckled nervously.

"Harry," the wizard introduced.

"Keep your wand out," Mrs. Figg told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery… This was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of—what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice…. Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?"

It was not easy to hold a wand steady and carry Dudley along at the same time, though Ed's support was a big help. Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's and Ed's shoulders, his large feet dragging along the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib?" Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. "All those times I came round your house—why didn't you say anything?"

"Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know…. But oh my word," she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, "when Dumbledore hears about this—how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight—where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened, I can't Apparate—"

"I've got an owl, you can borrow her," Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley's weight.

"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words—"

"But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic—they're going to be more worried what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?"

"Oh my dear, I wish it were so but I'm afraid—MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

There was a loud crack, which caused both Elrics to start violently, and a strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialized right in front of them. He had short bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair, and bloodshot baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound; he was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognized at once as an Invisibility Cloak.

"'S'up, Figgy?" he said, staring from Mrs. Figg to Harry and Dudley to the brothers. "What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover!" cried Mrs. Figg. "Dementors, you useless skiving sneak thief!"

"Dementors?" repeated Mundungus, aghast. "Dementors here?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!" shrieked Mrs. Figg. "Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!"

"Blimey," said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back again. "Blimey, I…"

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?"

"I—well, I—" Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. "It… it was a very good business opportunity, see…."

Mrs. Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the face and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.

"Ed," his brother leaned into his personal space, "doesn't she remind you of Granny Pinako?"

"Yeah," Ed nodded. "It's kind of a thing. I'll explain more later."

"Ouch—gerroff—gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes—they—have!" yelled Mrs. Figg, still swinging the bag of cat food at every bit of Mundungus she could reach. "And—it—had—better—be—you—and—you—can—tel—him—why—you—weren't—there—to—help!"

"Keep your 'airnet on!" said Mundungus, his arms over his head, cowering. "I'm going, I'm going!"

And with another loud crack, he vanished.

"I hope, Dumbledore murders him!" said Mrs. Figg furiously. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"

Harry decided not to waste his remaining breath on pointing out that he could barely walk under Dudley's bulk. He gave the semiconscious Dudley a heave and staggered onward.

"I'll take you to the door," said Mrs. Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. "Just in case there are more of them around…. Oh my word, what a catastrophe… and you had to fight them off yourself… and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs…. Well, it's no good crying over spilled potion, I suppose… but the cat's among the pixies now…"

"So," Harry panted, "Dumbledore's… been having… me followed?"

"Of course he has," said Mrs. Figg impatiently. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent… Right… get inside and stay there," she said as they reached number four. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"What are you going to do?" asked Harry quickly.

"I'm going straight home," said Mrs. Figg, staring around the dark street and shuddering. "I'll take these two with me," she indicated the brothers. "I'll need to send them to Dumbledore and wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Good night."

"Well," Ed shrugged, finally releasing his hold on Dudley, causing Harry to stagger slightly, "I guess this is where we say good bye. It was nice to meet you, Harry. Come on, Al."

"Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know—"

But Mrs. Figg had already set off at a trot, carpet slippers flopping, string bag clanking. The brothers were following closely in her wake.

"Brother," Al whispered uncertainly, "why did you agree to go with her? Why didn't we stay with Harry? He seemed nice."

"I'm sure he's a great kid," Ed shook his head. "But he's still just a kid. There's not much he can do to help us. Besides, you said it yourself, she's a lot like old lady Pinako. In my experience, that means something. On top of that, she's planning to send us to whoever's in charge. From there, we can get some answers, or, who knows, maybe we can even go home."

"If you say so," the younger brother shrugged. He'd just have to trust the other on this one.

It didn't take them long to reach Mrs. Figg's house and she ushered them inside. She dropped her bag of cat food on the table and puttered over to the kitchen fireplace. She grabbed a small tin off the mantle and turned to the brothers.

"You two have a seat," she waved vaguely at the table. "I have to make a call and see what's to be done with you."

The brothers nodded and did as they were told. She then proceeded to light a fire in the grate and opened the tin. She sprinkled a small pinch of whatever was inside over the flames, turning them a brilliant emerald greed, and before either of them could stop her, she stuck her head into the fire. The pair immediately began to panic.

"Ed!" Alphonse began hyperventilating. "She just stuck her head into the fire!"

"I can see that, Al!"

"What should we do?!"

"I don't know!" Ed threw up his hands. "We'll just have to wait! Things are different here." He took a calming breath, "We just have to trust that this Granny Pinako look alike knows what she's doing, just like ours does. But… if she doesn't get out in five minutes, we're leaving."

"O-Okay," Al sniffed.

The five minute mark was almost upon them when Mrs. Figg pulled her head out of the fireplace. She straightened up and patter her hair, knocking the majority of the soot out of it.

"Alright," she turned to the boys once more, "they are expecting you. Take this," she held out a piece of paper neither of them had noticed before, "memorize it, and we will burn it before you go. Once you step into the fire, say the address clearly and you will be taken right there. Dumbledore will be waiting for you. Now go, quickly."

Ed and Al took the paper and memorized it. Mrs. Figg nodded when they handed it back and tossed it into the flames before opening the tin again and putting more of the powder in. Once the fire turned green, she motioned them forward. Ed decided to go first, just in case, and stepped into the surprisingly cool flames.

"12 Grimmauld Place," he called clearly, and disappeared with a faint whoosh.

It felt like he was going through the Gate again, as he spun around and around and lights flickered passed. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea hit him. A moment later, he pitched forward and landed hard on, what felt like, stone. He groaned quietly as he lay there, trying to calm his stomach. A moment later, he groaned again, as all the air was knocked out of him by something, or someone, landing heavily on his back.

"Al, get off me," he croaked after a moment, realizing the weight on his back was actually his brother.

"So," a voice above them said quietly, causing them both to look up at the speaker, "you are the two unexpected visitors. I am Albus Dumbledore."

Ammie: Okay, so I know it's been forever since I've updated this one, but here ya go. Hopefully, after the madness of the holidays I will be able to work on more of my fics. Anyway, please let me know what you think.