Hello, everyone! I'm back! And I'm proud to present the first chapter of Book 2 of Beyond the Gate: Edward Elric and the Dark Book. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I hope you enjoy this first look! Also, happy Pride to all y'all!

It had been about ten days since Edward had parted company with the wizards of the Order of the Phoenix, and on the whole he could already say that he was doing very well for the moment... The boy had taken the precaution of keeping a small nest egg made up of half muggle silver and half wizarding money: he was not very wealthy despite the sum inherited from Flamel, but that would be enough to live on for a few weeks. If worst came to worst, he could transform pebbles into gold nuggets or coal into diamonds, but he would only use this solution as a last resort.

Edward did not need to live in luxury: he enjoyed comfort, like everyone else, but during his life he had slept in filthy backrooms, slums and even under the stars. He could therefore easily adapt to the modesty of his condition and was even able to appreciate the positive aspects of a free and unhindered life.

The surveillance that he had been subjected to last year almost drove him crazy, so it was out of the question for him to start tutoring again this summer. Of course, he was not stupid: he knew perfectly well that wizards like Dumbledore or Truth forbid, Voldemort, would be perfectly able to find him if they wanted to take the trouble. Luckily, he was not supposed to be at the top of their priority lists, which was a good thing. Nevertheless, this did not prevent him from taking precautions: he never slept two nights in a row at the same place, he was constantly on the lookout for his environment, and he rigged his rooms with alchemical traps every evening before he rested. The months spent in hiding in Amestris (as well as his paranoia) had contributed a lot to his abilities in those aspects and today he was here to thank his lucky stars.

Nevertheless, this life on the alert did not prevent him from enjoying the small pleasures that this world could offer him. English breakfast was part of it, which explained why Edward Elric was sitting in front of a huge brunch on the terrace of a small hotel with the charming name of Brockdale Cottage. But the landscape around him was not so charming: a lugubrious and persistent fog, completely out of season, hovered over the surrounding countryside. The river and the bridge that spanned it could barely be seen as the mist drowned the setting with its gray shadow. Edward knew what this unseasonal weather was due to: dementors. They might not be in the immediate vicinity, but their presence was enough to cause all the depressing mist that was seeping into his automail and spoiling much of Edward's meal.

The latter had just finished his plate and read the Daily Prophet without worrying too much about the normal people around him: the newspaper undoubtedly had ways to avoid being noticed, and anyway the few people who had the courage to go out were too concerned about their worries and the negative emotions caused by the Dementors to pay attention to him. The first article was about Fudge's loud and clear refusal to quit his position as minister despite Voldemort's threats to kill Muggles en masse. Edward frowned as he read between the lines. He was certainly not a politician or a strategist, but having had a "mentor" (for lack of a better term) of a colonel who wanted to overthrow the dictator of his country the blond had at least learned to analyze the events in another light. And he saw everything now, with the same acumen as Mustang in front of a failing chess game.

He knew that Fudge, as close to resignation as he was, could not afford to yield to Voldemort's threats because not only would it discredit him even more in the eyes of the wizarding population, but it would also prove that the ministry was nothing more than a puppet government, manipulated by death eaters, which would strengthen the fears of the population. But Fudge's refusal meant that Voldemort would go on the offensive imminently by putting his threat into action. If the Minister could not prevent the next deadly attack, he would be forced out of a position he was about to lose anyway. Talk about being trapped between a rock and a hard place...

Closing his newspaper, Edward sighed while paying the bill: today or tomorrow, there would certainly be a devastating attack on Muggles who would be the expense of a power struggle they would never know about. And he could not do anything to prevent that. As he made his way to the exit, several powerful cracks rang out a few hundred meters from him. A second later, Edward had already taken refuge behind a low wall: wizards had just apparated in, and, having seen their clothes and masks, they certainly did not have good intentions in coming here.

For a moment, the young alchemist thought they had him after him, but apparently none of them had seen him: they seemed instead to be heading in the opposite direction: the bridge on which many cars were running quickly, little discouraged by the prevailing fog.

Edward thought he was going to vomit when he understood the purpose of the fanatics who had raised their wands to the pillars that supported the structure: they were putting their threat to the test. Ed did not take the time to think, he ran, sneaking behind all possible hiding places until he was near the murderers. They had just disappeared the pylons, thus tilting the bridge into the water, as well as the vehicles that were thereupon, causing the terrified screams of their occupants. Without hesitating, Edward Elric clapped his hands silently and put them on the ground to force out columns to temporarily support the bridge. To his relief, it worked. He hadn't been sure it would: the last time he had tried to repair a bridge to help a pregnant woman, he had failed miserably.

Unfortunately, his act was immediately noticed, with none of the Death Eaters able to understand that he was using his alchemy. He took out his wand and prepared for a magical battle, an area where he did not excel, unlike Harry. Soon he was being sniped at on all sides by the Death Eaters, retaliating while restraining hiss power to not risk killing the unfortunate Muggles who had just escaped death. Luckily, the opponents he was dealing with had to be recent recruits, with little training and who had to do their blood baptism by attacking victims that were unable to defend themselves. Maybe he had a chance to get by as long as he stayed behind the wall... But it was at that moment that a voice was heard, a voice that had been engraved in his memory since that day at the Ministry:

"Well? You still haven't finished? Or are you lot so backward that you are unable to bring down a single bridge built by Muggles?

"We did collapse the bridge, but a guy interfered and... I do not know how he did it, but look!" He conjured new pillars!" exclaimed a young Death Eater, visibly shocked.

"Let's see that. Hmm? I recognize this work, even if I only saw it once…"

The Death Eater, who was in charge of the rookies on their expedition, turned to the wall where Edward had taken refuge and raised his voice:

"Get out of your hiding place, Edward Elric Flamel, I know it's you! Do not forget I saw you at work!"

"Go to hell!" replied the young alchemist, accompanying his reply with an insulting gesture.

"I have to admit I'm still quite impressed by that magic you're demonstrating..." commented Rookwood, former Unspeakable. "Top-level transfiguration, at first glance. However, it must take a lot of energy. Aren't you exhausted?"

"Why don't you come up here and see?" Edward challenged him as he whispered prayers for relief to arrive at the scene.

To Edward's surprise, Rookwood seemed to accept the challenge and began to cautiously approach him while continuing his speech:

"Do you know that the offer I made last time still holds? The Master was interested in your wandless magic abilities once I revealed to him the extent of your power."

"Damn it!" Edward grunted, casting a few spells. One hit a raging Death Eater, sending him over the parapet straight into the river.

"I do not want to kill you, Elric-Flamel, your life is worth more than that vermin that you're trying to save."

At that moment, the scream of a young girl echoed, making Edward pale. He looked over his hiding place and shuddered at the drama unfolding before him: Rookwood was levitating a child who was no more than seven years old and sobbing in terror, while behind the scenes, in a car, the parents and a ten-year-old boy were helpless at the scene, unable to rescue the youngest member of their family. But the ideological Death Eater did not seem to be finished with his demonstration.

"Do not tell me, Edward Elric Flamel, that you think the life of this garbage is worth more than your own existence?"

"All life is unique and irreplaceable, you bastard!" shouted the alchemist, mad with rage and anguish.

"You still have a lot to learn ..." muttered the Death Eater, in a falsely disappointed tone as if he were lecturing a stubborn child, then lowering his wand, it let out a green flash, and like a breath of wind, Death took the innocent child in front of the horrified eyes of Edward.

While the Death Eater seemed to want to add something, one of his accomplices leaned towards him and pointed to an auror troop that was coming quickly. Rookwood turned to the motionless young alchemist, gave him an wry smile and apparated away with the others.

Edward slowly approached the child's body and knelt beside her, staring at the lifeless eyes and terror fixed forever on the features of the little victim. Everything had been so fast that he could not do anything, again he had been totally helpless, unable to save someone's life. Plunged into his dark thoughts, he was no longer paying attention to what was around him, the voices around him were nothing but indistinct noises, the people were nothing more than shadows: only the girl was motionless on the ground. bitumen. He felt more than he saw the family of the unfortunate approaching them: the father looked incredulous, as if he could not believe that his child was dead, dazed by pain, the mother touched his face, gently caressing her hair, until a cry from the depths of her throat and heart burst from her lips, the boy remained motionless and silent, tears streaming unrestrained from his wide-eyed eyes.

Edward regained his senses and gently closed the child's eyes and murmured a simple "sorry", knowing that was all he could do now. He heard people approaching him and felt someone grab his arm and wrench him up brutally as a man yelled "I found one, Chief!"

The man he was talking to was blond with gray hair, yellow eyes almost as golden as Edward's, and he seemed to have a slight limp. Just by looking at him, the young alchemist realized he was dealing with a war veteran, a fighter hardened by years and by losses. He was experienced and he just looked at the teen with a quick professional glance while shaking his head.

"My instincts tell me no, but place him in anti-magic handcuffs. He is perhaps under Polyjuice Potion so we mustn't drop our guard. We will transfer him to the Ministry after settling the situation here."

For Edward, these words proved that this man had certainly experienced situations of this type and that he would not be easily fooled. It was therefore useless to try to stir up his suspicions by behaving like an idiot. In addition, Edward was tired after fighting and witnessing the child's death. He had no heart for anything and only wanted to sit alone in a corner, which was allowed him once the shackles were attached to his wrists.

Lost in thought, he only looked up when he saw the ten-year-old boy in the mourning family before him. Obviously, no one among the wizards had bothered to take care of him. The Ministry's only reaction seemed to cast a spell of forgetfulness to erase past events, without trying to comfort those traumatized by what they had just experienced. The boy stared at him, his eyes filled with tears, accentuating even more the guilt in the young man's heart:

"Why didn't you save her?" exclaimed the child, "You did amazing things, I saw you fighting the guys in black, so why didn't you save Hanna? Why?!"

The boy's little scene had caught the attention of the Aurors, who were already heading for the family of victims with wands in hands. Knowing that he would not have much time, Edward Elric knelt in front of the child, placing himself at his height and said, gravely, with tears in his eyes:

"I'm sorry for not being able to save her. I may be a person with magical powers. But I can not save everyone, even with magic. I am only a human being, with limitations. Forgive me."

Seconds later, the child was carried away by Healers and Edward found himself alone again with her thoughts. As in Amestris, he could not save a little girl who was almost the same age as Nina. Whether magic or alchemy, his powers could not be enough to save the lives of innocent people...

Moments later, the man he had vaguely identified as the Aurors' leader came to him and took off his handcuffs, without a word. The man named Dawlish seemed astonished at the actions of his superior, and began stupidly to protest against the orders. The veteran, supremely annoyed, rebuked him:

"The day you can tell a Death Eater from the bottom of a cauldron, Dawlish, you can afford to discuss my orders. And for your information, never would a Death Eater mourn a muggle and kneel before them to apologize for the death of one of them. They are far too arrogant for that."

Then, even before Edward could recover from his surprise, he grabbed the young alchemist and apparated him to the Auror's office. The young man had just had a trying experience and the wizarding transport had not really made things right and as soon as he landed, he emptied the contents of his stomach into a wastebasket, completely indifferent to the growls of disgust of the auror who made the contents disappear with a wave of his wand.

Nevertheless, this small moment of discomfort had put some of Ed's thoughts back in place, making him now more attentive to his environment. He sat down and listened, while showing a somewhat vague air.

From what he heard from the discussion of Auror Scrimgeour and a communications officer, they seemed to be wondering how much they could spread the story and, most importantly, in what aspect. Should they tell the truth by presenting Edward as the one who saved the world and try to capture some of Edward's aura by making him a figurehead? Or on the contrary, completely obscure his role to better enhance that of the aurors? The little wizard seemed more attracted to the first solution, arguing that the magical world needed heroes, and the young wizard, with his participation in the infiltration of the ministry, unfortunately agreed too much to this cliche. But Scrimgeour, no doubt for political reasons, seemed to favor the second solution that gave the lead to his department.

Finally, when the two stopped their discussion to finally ask his opinion, he retorted sarcastically that he did not intend to upstage the true heroes of this incident. The teen was nearing the end of his rope and the little quibbles of these politicians annoyed him more than anything. He then asked if, now that everything was settled, he could take leave. He could do it ... once he had testified.

He spent two hours reporting to an auror. Four years in the army had made Edward an expert at that, whatever Mustang said. The former state alchemist had to learn to make brief and precise statements while omitting the details that were, shall we say, the most incriminating for him and Al. He described what had happened while ignoring his presence in a hotel while he was a minor, his alchemy and his discussion with Rookwood- in short, the most interesting parts. Luckily, the guy must have been ordered not to overemphasize his exploits, even if he was asked for details about the death eaters on the scene.

Finally, the bureaucratic nightmare was over and Edward began to make his way to the exit with the firm idea of drinking something as hard as possible to try to get out of his mind the frozen face of the one he had seen die. Unfortunately, bad luck seemed to follow him because by the time he reached the elevator, a familiar voice addressed him:

"Ed, what are you doing here? We've been looking for you everywhere!"

The young alchemist could not help but curse too-curious aurors before resolving to face Nymphadora Tonks. The least we can say is that she had changed, and not in a joyous way: her hair was dark gray, far from the bright colors of last year. Her face seemed less smiling and more tinged with depression, something he would never have expected from her. The auror stared at him with a harsher look, seeming to demand answers from him. The young wizard just sighed and continued on his way, unwilling to answer her questions right now.

"Wait a minute, you didn't answer my question: what are you doing here? Where were you? We're worried about you, you know. Where are you going? Hey, you, listen to me when I talk to you!"

Although visibly slightly depressed, the young Auror was obviously stubborn and entered the elevator cabin at the same time as the boy, leaving him no choice but to answer her:

"Yes, I listened to you when you talked at me but I did not want to talk. As for where I was, I was traveling all over the place What I was doing here was testifying because of what happened at the Brockdale Bridge. Finally, as for my future projects, I'm going to go get drunk trying to forget what happened, end of story."

"Wait, were you in Brockdale when the Death Eaters attacked, but then... it was you who prevented the disaster, right?"

"According to the Daily Prophet, which will be published tomorrow, it will be the glorious feat of the Aurors, you will be able to read all the details tomorrow..." Ed grumbled, eager to get rid of the young woman as soon as possible.

"No intelligent person believes what is written in that rag, and everyone in the Order knows that your magical power is impressive (when you do not blow anything up by mistake). Tell me everything!" exclaimed the Auror.

"As I told you, I'm going to have a drink to try to forget this, and by the way, don't you have a job at the Ministry or with the Order?" Edward mumbled as he went out into the street and headed for the nearest bar.

"I have been working for almost forty-eight hours in a row, I have a legitimate right to rest, and the meeting of the Order isn't until tomorrow," said Tonks, adding: "And it's better that I accompany you if you want to get drunk; no one would take you for an adult with your size," she tried joking weakly.

The lack of reaction from the boy made her understand that he had witnessed a shocking scene. So it was without a word that she ordered two glasses of some muggle liquor, ignoring the gritty jokes of the customers and confirming to the bartender that her friend was old enough to drink. He began to drink his drink slowly, having no desire to become drunk with an Auror and a member of the Order nearby... If he disclosed compromising information, he would pay dearly.

Luckily, it seemed clear now to the blond that he was not the only one who needed a drink since Tonks had just swallowed hers in one gulp. He pretended to swallow the contents of his glass at once and they ordered again.

After an hour, the young alchemist knew that even if Metamorphagi could hold their liquor better than ordinary people, they were not insensitive to the harmful effects of alcohol. He also had living proof that alcohol was as effective as a truth serum. Obviously, the young woman was in a period of depression and had seized the opportunity to drown her sorrow in something other than tea. Suddenly, she was, to the great embarrassment of the teen, telling him the love story between her and Remus, something he had absolutely no need to know. But oddly enough, the young woman's chatter helped to erase what had happened today: nothing like listening to the problems of others to get away from his own problems.

At the end of the evening, however, he found himself with a problem on his hands: what to do with his now-drunk companion? He was finally forced to go to the Leaky Cauldron, to take Tom's disapproving and distrustful look while trying not to blush, to reveal as little as possible of exactly what they had done and negotiate the price of a single room. Once that was settled, he planted the Auror there, praying that Nymphadora would forget meeting him and that Remus Lupin would never learn what had happened.

Just over a week later, when it was dark, Edward was in a cemetery, the one where, according to the newspapers, was buried a young of a previously unknown weak heart. He gazed at the grave, which was covered in flowers and where the name and dates of the child were engraved. Without saying anything, the young boy placed a simple bouquet of perennials on the grave and remained there for a long time, losing himself in his thoughts, without seeing anything outside, without hearing any noise. He did not know what to say: he did not believe in the unlikely existence of paradise or hell, but now ... Truth had implied that, he had heard the voices of his loved ones who had died: all hope was permitted. In silence, he thought, as strongly as possible:

"Listen, if this girl, Hanna, is not happy in another place with Nina, Alexander, my mother, and all my friends, I'll tell you two words."

Then he remained motionless, still ironing once in his mind the scene that led to the death of an innocent, desperate in every detail something, anything that could have allowed him to save this little life, something he should not have said or done to spare the child.

Guilt and his tendency to believe himself responsible for everything had always been an aspect of his personality. But his adventures had also forced him to admit that it was impossible for him to save everyone, that even powers that could distort reality could not prevent death from striking. But knowing was one thing and accepting it was another.

However, after a few days of ruminations, he had finally accepted the fact that he could not have done anything to save her: the bastard who had killed him wanted to show him personally how far he was ready to go to explain to him his point of view. For Rookwood, it was a simple test to find out what could reach him and whatever the way he would have reacted, the Death Eater would still kill his victim to know it. The only way to avoid Hanna's death would have been Ed's absence from the scene of the attack, which would have resulted in more deaths. His intervention, he knew perfectly well, had saved the lives of dozens of people that day and to think otherwise would have been irrational. But why couldn't he manage to forgive himself for the death of this child?

"So you're here, Mr. Elric?"

Edward turned abruptly and faced Albus Dumbledore. The old Headmaster seemed strangely out of place in this sober and melancholy cemetery with his brightly colored robes. The alchemist thought he should have been more careful: if he had been a Death Eater, he would have been as surprised as a rookie and being surprised by Dumbledore had not been part of Edward's immediate plans either. Now that the old wizard had found him, Edward doubted that he could escape the Order of the Phoenix, which meant he could probably say goodbye to his peace and independence... for the time being, at least.

The boy put aside his nervousness: he did not want to start an altercation in a peaceful cemetery out of respect for the dead lying there. He just stared at the old wizard with a look of defiance: technically, he did not really have to answer to the Headmaster of Hogwarts except when he was in the school itself, so the founder of the Order had no right to impose anything on him- at least in theory.

For his part, the old wizard sighed inwardly: Edward had obviously not forgiven him for his experience of last year, intended to prove he was trustworthy. Once again, he blamed himself for his rush and his excessive curiosity, which had obviously dug a huge gap in a very recent and still fragile relationship. He should have known: boys like Edward trusted adults only in a hurry, with caution and a certain amount of mistrust. Betray this trust and you can be sure that winning it back would be almost impossible, and Edward Elric's look did not predict a change of attitude in the near future.

He looked at Edward, who was staring at the new grave with eyes from which only regret and guilt had come. Then a new flame came to replace these feelings in the young man's golden eyes, determination and an indomitable will now shining in their place. With a quick movement, he turned and began to take the direction of the exit, the wind rushing in his red coat but this departure was interrupted by the urgent words of the old Headmaster of Hogwarts:

"Edward ... If you're going to chase those responsible for the death of this child, I urge you to reconsider your decision. Alone, you have no chance and revenge has never brought peace to anyone."

"I'm not looking for peace, professor," Edward replied wearily, "that was never an option for me."

"I know how you feel, Edward, you're not responsible for what happened, on the contrary, you saved a lot of people that day." Dumbledore pointed out with compassion.

"Do not try to put yourself in my place. I swore to do what I can to ensure that these bastards receive the justice they deserve." Edward growled with determination.

"A noble intention, Edward, and one that looks good to you." The old man said, continuing: "Nevertheless, there are other ways for you to help that do not put your life in danger constantly and I have come to offer you to help me tonight."

"Oh, have you miraculously started trusting me?" quipped the young alchemist before declaring: "Okay. I have nothing better to do tonight."

And clutching the Headmaster's arm, the blond was about to discover, to his deep misfortune, a new method of wizarding transportation.