And so begins yet another crossover. What is this- 2008? This fic was partially inspired by "There May Be Some Collateral Damage" by metisket, partially inspired by "unhinged" by red pen, and partially inspired by all the hp/fma crossovers I've read. Further author notes are at the bottom.
Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, and The Dursleys
/
On the subject of transportation, Ed was a connoisseur. Sort of. At the very least, he had spent the last three years traveling crisscrossed Amestris on various means including trains, cars, and even feet. So he was entirely sure that any mode of travel that made you feel like that was completely unnecessary.
Ed picked himself up from the ground where he was trying not to throw up and glared at his current companion.
Mustang, bastard that he was, had managed to stick the landing, and looked completely unfazed at portkey travel.
"Come along, Fullmetal," he said, walking towards the creepiest house Ed had ever seen. "We don't want to be rude."
Twelve hours later, Ed was traveling sensibly in a car- the most comfortable car he'd ever been in, he had to admit- through a suburb of eerily similar houses to stay at the house of the boy he was supposed to be guarding.
/
In the interests of Amestrian-British relations, the Colonel had explained. Britain had been making diplomatically upset noises at Amestris since the Civil War. With the advent of some other new political turmoil that Ed hadn't paid attention to, those diplomatic noises were getting louder. In order to make them stop, the military was loaning the damp island one of its top alchemists to bodyguard one of its VIPs who was under some sort of threat, possibly by a terrorist cell. In a suspicious stroke of "luck", the alchemist in question was also 15, and fit in effortlessly with the VIP in question's primary location.
Which was a school.
Ed had told his superior officer exactly what to do with this assignment, until Mustang had explained two things. The first was that the theoretical terrorist cell was lead by someone who seemed to have been doing something unseemly with soul transmutations. Secondly, that the school in question was rumored to have the best research library in Britain.
After this explanation, Ed was still unsure. Alchemy in the far West had diverged wildly from alchemy in Amestris, or even alkahestry in Xing. The results were almost always impermanent, and those who practiced in the West called it 'magic', not alchemy. It wasn't likely that a library full of books about impermanent temporary changes and tricks would be able to supply him with a permanent sollution or answers on how to get his and Al's bodies back.
Then Breda uttered something, something about how the British government liked to keep things on the down low, and how it was a pity that Al couldn't go with because 7-foot-tall suits of armor weren't 'discrete'.
Ed objected all over again.
In all, it took Mustang close to three full days of shouting matches, bribes, and sending Hawkeye to team up with Al to get Ed to just do the body guarding gig already.
Part of the gig had been learning English. It turned out that Mustang and Hawkeye had started already, which Ed learned when Mustang began making quips that Ed was sure were about his height in a language he didn't understand.
Even though Ed had never really studied different languages before, he put in the effort. The language was a weird jumble of contradictory grammar rules, but it wasn't anywhere close to as complicated as alchemy. With Al's help he managed to have a very rough grasp of English within a week. Mustang pronounced it "passable" and had declared it was time to leave.
It turned out that while Ed was practicing English, Mustang had been making arrangements with whatever kind of millitary or government or whatever Britain had about their cover story and transportation. The transportation Ed had been unimpressed with. The cover story even more so.
Even though the actual bodyguarding mission was solo, the cover story… wasn't. Instead of sending him off alone, the first phase of the mission involved him working with Mustang. For two weeks.
He was supposed to pretend to be Mustang's nephew for two weeks while staying in the VIP's house. The ruse was something that the British side was insisting upon. Ed was pretty sure that it was unnecessary and something that would get in the way eventually, but Mustang had told Ed to quit complaining and follow orders, which Ed interpreted to mean Mustang agreed, but didn't want to admit it.
Ed made sure to include that story in his first letter to Al that night.
The rest of the cover story wasn't much better. It involved Mustang being from the same company where the VIP's relative worked, so they would have an excuse to be staying at the same house. Again, Ed thought it was all overcomplicated and underhanded.
The VIP in question was named Harry Potter. He was supposed to be a big deal in the "magical community" of Britain. Ed had skimmed that part of the packet in case Potter was famous for some kind of magical discovery, but it seemed he was just famous because of his deceased parents. That got a twinge of sympathy from Ed, but no real desire to follow up on the story. Instead, he looked over a list of things to be aware of in guarding the boy, which included mainly the terrorist group that was targeting the kid, headed by the power hungry dickhead that had reportedly died then came back to life. Ed had been supremely skeptical about that part, but Mustang had said there was something to the claim.
Apparently, that had been one of the reasons Mustang had volunteered him for this job. Ed wouldn't admit it, but he had to agree with the colonel's reasoning- it's not like there were many alchemists out there who had any understanding of soul transmutation. Certainly there were no state alchemists available.
He had mixed feelings about this part of the report. It sounded like human transmutation to him, or something very similar. There was a possibility that it could be the lead he was looking for, but his understanding of the notoriously temporary nature of magic in the West was a fertile place for doubts to grow.
Of course, because this was his life, and because this was the military and because Mustang could never let him do anything reasonable, before any of this information became relevant, he and Mustang would be spending ten days at Potter's "muggle" residence, doing their best to pretend they weren't state alchemists before they would be transported to some kind of headquarters.
It was an understatement to say that Ed was not looking forward to any of this.
/
Harry wasn't sure what to make of Uncle Vernon's new guests. He hadn't been told any of the details, but Grunnings had decreed that Vernon would host a high-ranking member from a foreign branch of the company for a little over a week. Except it turned out the bigwig brought his nephew along, too.
They looked nothing alike- the Grunnings man was tall, dark haired and dark eyed with ramrod posture, a neat haircut, and an easy smile. The nephew had golden hair long enough to be pulled back in a braid, with bangs that fell into his eyes. He also wore a sweatshirt that was obviously several sizes too big for him. The sleeves fell past his fingertips, completely obscuring his hands.
Harry hadn't managed to get a better impression than that so far. He'd been instructed to stay as out of the way as possible. While he was desperate for any news of Voldemort, Harry knew that it was unlikely the Dursleys would be watching much news while entertaining guests, and so welcomed the respite from chores. Instead, he wandered around the neighborhood, occasionally nicking a newspaper from a recycling bin if he saw one. None of the papers had anything that even hinted at Death Eater activity.
He should be pleased that no one had died yet, but all he could feel was tension as he waited for Voldemort to make his move.
Hours later, he made his way back to Number 4 and was greeted by an unfamiliar figure lounging on the step. Unable to really make the figure out in the gathering gloom, Harry approached cautiously until he recognized the figure swimming in the sweater as Uncle Vernon's guest's nephew.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, as he approached.
The other boy closed his book with a thump, and Harry noticed for he first time that underneath those long sleeves were a pair of gloves as well. Not winter gloves, but it was still baffling to see someone dressed so thoroughly in summer.
"I was waiting for you," he said. His accent reminded Harry of the Bulgarians who had been in Hogwarts for the tournament last year. "Was better than sitting through dinner with… all of them." He waved the book in his gloved hand back at the door.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of any of that. "Did you walk out on dinner just for that?" he eventually asked.
The other boy shrugged. "Like I said, better than sitting with them."
"Do you even know my name?" Harry asked.
"Do you know mine?"
"Good point. Harry Potter." He stuck out a hand, then fumbled as the other boy stuck out his left hand, the right still holding onto the book.
"Edward Elric, nice to meet you."
/
After dinner, which Edward ate voraciously, Harry learned a few more things about these people who had appeared unceremoniously into his life. For one, Edward didn't share a name with his Uncle, whose name was Mustang, not Elric. Harry thought that made him sound like an American cowboy.
He also discovered that Ed had been brought along because he was going to attend a British school in the fall, and didn't seem very pleased to be spending that much time with his Uncle. Harry sympathized. He hated spending summers with his relatives too.
The most surprising thing that Harry learned about Ed came the next day when Ed showed up to his room and asked to borrow some of his potions textbooks.
"My- my what?"
"Potions textbooks?" Ed repeated. "Am I using the right word? The book for-"
"No, that's the right word. But. You're a wizard? You're going to Hogwarts?"
Ed shrugged. "Yes, I am going to Hogwarts. I don't know about wizard. I am alchemist."
Harry wasn't sure what the difference was. He's sure Hermione would tell him… when she started talking to him again. "Oh. But why would your parents send you to Hogwarts now? Haven't you heard the news?"
"No. What news?" Harry opened his mouth to answer, but- "Wait, you mean… What's-his-name. Long, hard to pronounce. Everyone thought he was dead?"
He had never heard Voldemort described quite like that, but it wasn't exactly wrong. "Voldemort. Yeah. He's back. If you were out of England, then why would you come here?"
Ed shrugged. "It was decided for me."
He refused to say anything else about it. In the end, Harry gave him not just last year's potions textbook, but all of them, down to the first year book. Ed vanished into the guest room he shared with Mr. Mustang, yet somehow managed to reappear when Harry went for a walk around the neighborhood.
It was weird how Ed managed to be in so many places Harry didn't expect him to be. Somehow, wherever he settled, Ed usually showed up within ten minutes. Even if he wasn't overly fond of people who might be following him, Harry would make an exception for Ed, since the presence of houseguests tended to make Dudley leave him alone.
Usually.
Today it looked like Ed's presence wasn't going help much, since it seemed Dudley was looking to pick a fight. He and his goons surrounded the two of them, though Ed didn't seem very impressed.
"What's this?" Piers asked with false delight. "Has the freak found a little friend?"
With this, Ed shot up from the swing he had been sitting on, fists clenched. "Why you-! You call me microscopic?" Harry grabbed the sleeve of Ed's baggy sweater, knowing that Dudley and his friends wouldn't stop now they had found some kind of button to push.
"Really, Harry. What would Cedric think of you cheating on him?" Dudley asked. "He is your boyfriend right? You keep calling out his name in your sleep, after all. 'Oh, Cedric, don't kill Cedric no no'!"
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ed's face go slack in disbelief before the look was replaced with a vicious glare. Ed might have started saying something, too, but Harry wasn't sure of the specifics, because he was seized by fury at Dudley laughing at something he couldn't possibly understand. He grabbed his wand and jammed it in his cousin's face.
Peirs Polkiss gabbled something at Dudley that Harry was too pissed to care about before leaving his line of vision completely.
Instantly, the laughing bravado fell from Dudley's face. "Wh-what are you doing?" he hissed. "You're n-not supposed to-"
They were interrupted by a wretched groan that sent a chill down Harry's spine. When he looked over, Ed had collapsed. "Nina..." he whimpered.
Dudley grabbed at his shirt. "Wh-what did you do? What are you doing?" he panted. Fog puffed from his mouth as he, too, keeled over.
The chill- it wasn't from worry, it was from something- worse.
Long evening shadows seemed to pool together until evening was almost as dark as night. Harry raised his wand as cloaked figures glided across the park towards him and the two collapsed boys at his feet.
Then one of the figures burst into flames.
/
Colonel Roy Mustang, distinguished alchemist and celebrated war hero, beat a hasty retreat out the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive. He wished he could withdraw entirely from this situation, but he knew that this was only a diversion. He would have to return from this particular mission all too soon.
In an effort to get away from Vernon Dursley's caustic remarks (and his own urge to fry the man) he had volunteered to find the boys and bring them in for dinner. It wasn't the longest respite, but it was a breather Roy was sure he needed, in order to brace himself for dinner.
The schedule he had worked out with the Order stretched before him like an insurmountable mountain. Another week here before anyone would be arriving to escort Harry- and his Amestrian companions- to Grimmauld Place. Roy hadn't known how horrible Potter's relatives were before he agreed to this. When he went home, Roy knew he would demand hazard pay from Dumbledore himself for what that man was making him go through.
With these thoughts running through his head, Roy was unprepared as he reached the park. Seeing Fullmetal collapse startled him into stillness for a moment. The Dursley boy followed Fullmetal to the ground, spurring Roy across the grass.
Something had him on edge as he ran to the swing set. He couldn't yet see what kind of threat had him so on edge, but he hadn't survived Ishval to ignore his instincts now. He pulled a glove out of his pocket. The shadows seemed to lengthen as Potter stood guard. He, at least, seemed potentially capable of running should the need arise, though Roy was unsure of what Potter would be potentially running from.
That uncertainty lasted all of ten seconds as tall hooded figures glided through the park towards the boys. The shadowed evening seemed to plunge completely into night. Roy wasn't sure who or what they were, and he didn't really need to. He snapped.
The one closest to him went up in flames with a screech Roy knew for a fact was inhuman. He knew, from terrible experience, all the soul-shredding sounds people made as they burned to death. They echoed in his head, like he was standing in Ishval right now. Could almost smell the smoke and ash drifting through the air to settle on his hair, on his clothes. He would never get them clean, never get his hands clean of all the blood, even though he wore gloves-
A silver shape rushed by, close enough for Roy to touch. He pulled himself back to the present, back from the scorching and scorched desert to the pristine lawn in time to see a stag made entirely of opaque silvery light throw one of the ominous figures with its horns. Potter was still standing, grim determination on his face as the stag's attack drove the remaining creature into a swift retreat.
The other one, the one he had set aflame, seemed to have been reduced to a fine pile of ashes, Roy noted, dispassionately. Human remains were never this uniformly burnt. Chunks of bone, remains of clothes, such things were rarely completely reduced to ash.
"Mr. Mustang!" Potter called out. "Are you alright?" The boy took a step towards him, but seemed hesitant to leave Edward and his cousin unguarded.
Roy straightened his shoulders, striding over to where his subordinate had fallen. "I'm fine," he said. "What happened here?"
"Dementors," Potter said, as if that explained everything. "Are you a wizard too? Where's your wand?"
"That's not important right now," Roy said as he reached Edward's fallen form. He checked the boy's pulse- elevated, but steady. There were tear tracks running down his face, but Roy couldn't see any injuries.
Before he could ask another question, he was interrupted. The voice was pitched up with the stressed tones of someone who was dealing with an emergency far above their rank.
"Don't put your wand away, you stupid boy! What if there are more of them around? Oh, I am going to kill Mudungus Fletcher!"
/
Mrs. Figg was the third secret magical person Harry had found in Little Whinging in three days, and according to her ranting, there was supposed to be yet another wizard hanging around. He was tired of it.
As if Ed and Mr. Mustang weren't enough- if Mr. Mustang was even a wizard. He hadn't answered Harry's question about his wand, and Harry hadn't seen one on the man, despite how he had set a dementor on fire, somehow. He also seemed strangely ignorant of dementors for a wizard. Mrs. Figg knew about dementors, even if she was a squib and couldn't see them.
She and Mr. Mustang were quietly arguing between themselves over Harry's head as he and Mrs. Figg schlepped Dudley back to Number Four. Mr. Mustang carried Ed over his shoulders, which seemed to be another point towards the man not being magical, as Harry had never known a wizard to actually carry anyone when they could use magic instead.
At the whipcrack sound of apparition Mr. Mustang tensed and raised a gloved hand, though Harry was still not quite sure how he planned to ward off an attack without a wand. Instead of an actual threat, one of the shadiest individuals Harry had ever seen stepped out of the shadows.
"Mudungus Fletcher!" Mrs. Figg snapped from under Dudley's wide arm. "You feckless layabout!"
The wizard, the supposed Mudungus Fletcher, held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "Sorry there, Harry. 'ad a great deal on some cauldrons, an'-"
"The dementors could have kissed one of the boys!" Mrs. Figg cried.
Mudungus scowled, not meeting Mrs. Figg's eyes. "Wha' about them, then?" he asked, gesturing to Mr. Mustang and the still unconscious Ed. "Ain't they supposed to be on duty too?"
Harry glanced up at Mr. Mustang. The man's face had that peculiar stillness Harry had come to associate with Snape before the potions master said something truly spiteful. "No," the man said eventually. "Fullmetal is not on duty until the school year starts. Until then, Potter is your responsibility to guard. A responsibility you have failed, putting Potter at risk, but two other boys also."
Mrs. Figg picked up where Mr. Mustang left off as Mudungus shrunk in on himself. "The least you can do now is get word to Dumbledore and the Order!" she snapped.
With a muttered "Awright" Mudungus apparated away, leaving Harry with a lot more questions, and a growing frustration at how everyone around him seemed to know exactly what was going on in his life while he was kept in the dark.
The party managed to limp their way to Number Four, and parted ways with Mrs. Fig, who muttered about owls and floo and worthless watchwizards. Mr. Mustang rang the doorbell and pushed his way past an astonished Aunt Petunia as soon as the door was opened. He carefully laid Ed out on the sofa, not heeding Aunt Petunia's stringent rules about shoes on the furniture.
Instead of scolding her guest, Aunt Petunia turned on Harry, falling on Dudley with a shriek of dismay. "My poor Duddikins!"
The commotion brought Uncle Vernon to the front room, where of course he began yelling. Harry didn't pay attention to what he was yelling about; he'd heard all of his Uncle's material plenty of times. Before he really got going, Mr. Mustang interrupted by striding past Vernon like the man wasn't even there, stopping in front of Harry.
"You know what those things were. Do you know how to treat… whatever is happened?" he asked.
"Chocolate," Harry said automatically. "Chocolate helps after dementor attacks."
Mr. Mustang turned to Vernon. "You heard him," he said while Harry's uncle turned some very interesting shades of dark red. "Get some chocolate. And some for your son." Surprisingly, Uncle Vernon did, muttering about freaks bringing danger to hardworking normal folk the whole time.
And because this situation was somehow not bad enough, an owl swooped through the still-open door, dropping an ominously familiar letter for Harry to catch. It was from the Ministry expelling him for underage magic in front of a muggle, because of course it was.
"What is that?" Mustang asked, and Harry handed the letter over. He might as well. Maybe if he was expelled and kicked out, Mr. Mustang might take him back to his country and he could study there. Learning a whole new language might be hard, but Harry supposed if he wasn't going to know what was going on around him, it might as well be because people were actually speaking another language.
"D'you think I should leave?" he asked, half thinking to himself out loud. He didn't want to lose his wand, and the only way he could think to prevent it was running away.
"No," Mustang replied immediately, still scanning the letter. "Do you have any way to send word to your a- your friends?"
Right- Hedwig. Harry sprinted up the stairs without another word, and scribbled off three quick notes for the owl to deliver. When he returned, Mr. Mustang was shaking Ed's shoulder gently, trying to coax him awake.
At first, it seemed like Ed would stay unconscious, before he abruptly shot upright, with a strangled cry of "Nina!" Mr. Mustang drew back, one hand clenching into a fist as all the energy seemed to leave Ed. He curled in on himself, one leg drawing close to his chest. He muttered something in what was probably Amestrian.
Mr. Mustang replied in the same language, offering Ed the chocolate. Ed turned his head away.
"Eat it," Harry urged, "it helps."
"You haven't had dinner in any case," Mr. Mustang said, pressing the partially unwrapped chocolate bar into his nephew's hand. "Eat, Vsogart."
"You haven't either," Ed muttered; a much more lucid response than Harry really expected. He still took a bite of the chocolate, and it wasn't long before the entire bar was gone.
The second owl arrived then, with a note from Mr. Weasley in scrawled all uppercase letters, telling Harry to remain in the house, and to not surrender his wand.
Uncle Vernon glared at the owl as it flew back out into the night. He rounded on Harry. "Boy, I don't know what kind of Dismembers you called down tonight, but your days of bringing danger to this house areover!"
"It's not like I chose to be here!" Harry snapped. "It's not like I like staying here!"
"Not in front of the guests!" Aunt Petunia hissed, ever worried about the neighbors getting wind of any of the Dursleys' dirty laundry. Mr. Mustang watched the scene, dark eyes unreadable. Ed looked on as well, knees drawn to his chest and arms draped over them. His one visible fist was clenched.
Harry had no idea what to make of that, but he didn't really care. He had never cared about the Dursleys' reputation and all the grief it had brought him over the years. He was tired of minding it, he was tired from dealing with the dementors, and he resented everyone making decisions about his life for him.
Another owl swooped through the kitchen, giving Harry yet another Ministry letter. This one graciously allowed him to keep his wand until the 12th of August. Great. More adults deciding what to do with him.
"I don't care!" Vernon had been discussing the family's standing with his wife, it seemed. "The boy needs to leave, and he needs to leave, now!" He reached for Harry.
Before Harry could dodge, a hand gripped Vernon's wrist so tightly it was hard to see where the white flesh ended and the white glove began. "I do not think so," Mr. Mustang said. "This boy just saved your son's life. He is your nephew. He is child. And you would throw him out to the street?"
Uncle Vernon sputtered.
"I have seen and done many bad things in my time, but to throw family-"
"He's no family of mine!" Vernon snapped, rounding on Mr. Mustang instead. Harry was left with a strange unfulfilled anticipation when the shouting match suddenly shifted from him.
"You throw a child out into the night?" Mustang snarled right into Vernon's purple face.
From the sofa, Ed uncurled and snapped something in Amestrian that Mustang ignored.
"He has his freak friends to help him! He doesn't need us-"
A final owl swooped into the kitchen, and dropped a bright red envelope. A howler.
Howlers were bad enough in the open space of the Great Hall. In the relatively small house, the words seemed to fill every space.
"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."
/
AN: Constructive criticism is welcome, but please note that the errors I have Ed and Roy make when speaking are on purpose. Learning a whole new language is very hard, even if you are a smartypants alchemist. I've really stretched the timeline on how quickly a person can become fluent or master a language here, but I can't bring myself to have them speak "perfect" English. Partially because I know that my German will never be perfect.
Speaking of languages, usually people choose German to represent Amestrian, but I've decided against that rout for several reasons. The first of which is that for this crossover to work the way I want it to, Amestris has to exist in "the real world"- or at least "the real world as represented in Harry Potter". Since Harry Potter never said anything about a huge desert next to Germany, I had to find another place that would suit for Amestris.
I chose an area that I am assuming would have been part of The Great Game between Russia and Britain in the 1800s, which gives me: A reason for Amestris to Suddenly Exist (like canon), A geography that matches Amestris in canon, and, A language that would very likely NOT be German. For the curious, I'm using Russian words written in the latin alphabet. "Vsogart" is butchered, latinized Russian for Full (Vso) Metal (Gart).
Like in "The Dragon King's Temple" by Kyral who used phonetic Japanese to stand in for a language, the Russian words are just a stand-in for "real" Amestrian, though if anyone who actually speaks Russian wanted to give me some input that would be lovely.