Okay, here is where the disclaimer is supposed to go, right? Hmm. Well, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter. I'd like to, but I dont. So, no gratuitous lawsuit por favor.

Right... a little set up is needed for this story. This is occuring about two thirds through the last episode, when Ed is attempting to recover Alphonse. The HP universe is at the fourth book, Goblet of Fire. Considering Ed's age, I figured it was about right in order for Ed to be Harry's classmate. Oh, and if you're reviewing, don't bother being polite for the sake of it. I'm a stranger you'll probably never meet, so I'll benefit from your honesty more than anything else. I think I'll have another chapter up in a few days. Thank you!

Chapter 1: Silver Light

He touched the circles on his arms and chest, and he was lost in the light.

"Brother, I'll get you back. No matter what."

He opened his eyes, expecting to see the Gate, the giant stone edifice that he and every alchemist was terrified of, but intimately linked to. He had gone through it, once, and had seen a different world, without alchemy. He didn't know if he would have to again, but he had to try, to do whatever he had to.

The Gate... It...it was ruined!

The massive doorway, made of grey marble, had been riven and split apart. The ground around it, which normally stretched out into an infinite white plain, was rent with great cracks that dark and heavy black smoke, webbed with purple, curled out of. The horizon was shaded, and distant lights flashed and danced in the darkness.

"W-what...the hell..." Ed stammered, his calm determination shattered, "What happened here?" There was a sound of something, like a great machine grinding it's gears. Slowly, the plain disappeared in chunks all around him, leaving him floating on a small island with the gate, surrounded by umbral space. Terror choked off his last words, as the doors, the only part still intact, swung open with twice their normal speed. What the gate revealed was not the usual countless pairs of eyes surrounded by black, but a vast space of darkness. A pinprick-sized light inside of it glowed like a spark.

Frozen with shock, Ed didn't have time to react. Suddenly, as if the doorway had opened to a black hole, he found himself being drawn in.

"Aaah!" Ed screamed, and lashed out with his hands. His fingers scrambled desperately for purchase, but couldn't find anything on the smooth surface of the ground. He was pulled backwards into the Gate. He didn't so much fly, but fall through the darkness, the doorway shrinking steadily in his eyes the further he went. For a second, he saw a flicker, and could have sworn that someone else had fallen in. Then the Gate closed.

…

June in Professor McGonagall's office was usually one step away from absolute chaos. The students had left, but there were piles of papers that needed to have their marks officially entered, OWLs that had to be graded, and an all-around huge mess of practicals that required evaluation. And all this was on top of her duties as deputy headmistress, of inviting magical children to become students after their eleventh birthday. For that, she needed to go to the Room of Names in the library, set up a desk in the center, and address enchanted notes until her hand hurt. The room itself was unusual, constructed similarly to a huge chimney. The sides were hung with great unrolled scrolls, one and a half feet wide and ten feet tall, like poorly-adhered wallpaper. These about halfway filled with names written, in a large loopy handwriting, across the walls. Above the unrolled parchments were hundreds of cubbyholes, each one filled with a tightly bound scroll. McGonagall sat at the librarian's table, next to a stack of these scrolls.

By the light of the dangling lamp that hung down the middle of the shaft, as well as the light of the one window far overhead, she unrolled them, read the names, and wrote them on the letters. She used her own quill, but there was another quill on the desk, one that looked like it was made of gold filigree and spun glass. It sat in an equally beautiful gold-and-glass inkwell, and nearly glowed in the light. She finished scribing the name of one Phillip Donney on the letter. A swish of her wand, and the address that accompanied the name that she had just written filled itself in, in her own distinctive hand. A sudden scratching sound disturbed her. She looked up, and saw the gilded quill rise, dab itself in the inkpot, and fly over to the wall of parchment, directly underneath the last name written. It wrote "Danielle Wells", in the same loopy way, then flew back into the inkwell. McGonagall smiled. In eleven years, when that just-born magical child grew up, she would be invited to Hogwarts, just as the boy she was writing this letter to now would be. That was the entire purpose of this room, after all. She looked down, readjusted her glasses, and continued. She had completed three more envelopes when a distant rustling distracted her again. This time however, it was something that she had never seen before.

A quiet alleyway in London, behind a condemned apartment building in the East End. It was practically identical to any other alley in this neighborhood, filled with dumpsters and flyaway bits of trash. This is the squat of Big Pat, homeless beggar, who, via a fit of vagrant humor, got his handle for being only four feet tall. He was your average streetperson: slightly insane, out of the hospital because of national healthcare cutbacks, and self-medicating with alcohol. Dressed in layer upon layer of coats that would probably require some kind of operation to remove, he was dozing in a corner against the crumbling red brick.

A sudden explosion, like the tearing 'CRACK!' of lightning when it is too close, awoke him with a start. He looked up blearily. There, in the middle of the sky, was a gaping black rip as large as a bus. Twin comets of light shot from it's maw, and then it disappeared, as if it never was there. One of them, flying several blocks away, seemed to smash into an old warehouse. The other flew straight at the drifter. Big Pat desperately scrambled out of the way. This silver-blue meteor landed into a ten-foot-tall stack of partially crushed and soggy cardboard boxes, with what sounded like a 'Wumpf!', and the strange flames dissipated in a cloud of steam. The man pulled himself out of his crouch, and cautiously, slowly, approached the impacted pile. When he finally reached it, he looked into the crater of cardboard.

Lying in the fetal position, was a blond-haired boy in a red hoodie. Big Pat had taken all that he could stand, and ran away. And the youth continued to sleep.

Slowly, out of one of the many shelves in the Room of Names, a scroll was extricating itself. Professor McGonagall, at a loss, could do nothing other than watch as that scroll floated to her eye level, and unrolled itself down to the ground. She looked at the names written on the parchment, and a realized with a start that the scroll itself was fifteen years old. The gold and glass quill dipped itself again, and went down to the very bottom of the list. Under the last, there was just enough room for it to write one name. The name, was Edward Elric. McGonagall's eyes were as wide as saucers. "I have to tell Albus!" She whispered to herself, snatched the floating scroll out of the air, and ran out of the ancient stone room. The parchment stirred with the wind of her departure.

…

"Hmmmn…"

"Errgh…"

Edward stretched out his arms as he woke, like a cat. His hands paused as they hit the unfamiliar surface of the cardboard.

He sprung lightly to his feet without thought, arms and legs tucked into a protective crouch, back against the edge of the box hollow. His eyes flitted back and forth, as he took in his surroundings. For a while he sat that way, letting his breathing normalize, heartbeat return to normal. When no threat was forthcoming, he straightened up, and was blinded by sunlight. He shielded his eyes with his hand reflexively. He winced as his brain reconstructed the events of the last few hours

So, I went through the Gate. Ed thought to himself slowly, trying to reason through what had just happened to him. There's no doubt about that, but the Gate was completely different from any other time I've seen it. Where were the denizens, he wondered, thinking of the tiny black-bodied creatures that took his arm and leg, and what the hell happened to it?

His eye caught the gleam of metal.

Wait, metal?

Hurriedly, he pulled up his right sleeve.

My arm, it's back to automail!

He gave himself a once over, patted down his slightly dingy threads.

And my clothes...He looked down at the chain sticking out of his pocket. My watch is there, too! WHAT IS GOING ON?! Ed recognized his hyperventilation, the blurriness in his vision. He was going into shock and he needed to calm down, or he would be in even worse trouble.

Hold on, hold on, one thing at a time. First, location.

He looked around.

So where the hell am I?

Ed furrowed his brow, and cradled his chin in his brow.

I should be on the other side, in London again, if it's the same as before. But, is it? Arrgh, damn it, I can't tell from here!

Ed became aware of a dull roar, slowly building in intensity overhead. He looked up, and a Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet, trailing a great stream of vapor, flew overhead.

Ed just stood there, his jaw hanging.

…

"That's right, Albus. I watched it be written."

"Hmm. Late bloomer, I wonder?"

"Sir, you know that is impossible. Even Neville Longbottom was catalogued in the Room of Names at birth, and he did not demonstrate any magical heritage until barely three years before admittance!"

"Sorry, just my little joke."

"I do not find it very funny."

"Yes, I know. Neither do I." The wizened old wizard sighed, and for a moment looked just a little older. "This is a dangerous time for unusual events."

"Sir, I have read and memorized the histories of Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons as well as several other academies, so I have absolutely no doubt that this has never happened before. The spells are supposed to be foolproof! How are we going to handle it?"

"Minerva, I am surprised at you. There is only one possible action we can take! We will simply have to enroll this Edward Elric."

"Enroll him!!"

"Absolutely."

"But…but what about the Triwizard-"

"Yes, I know. It might be unseemly of us to find a new student just before it is to take place, but the other option of ignoring him is not possible. It would be a violation of our charter, something I am even more loath to conscience."

Dumbledore furrowed his brow, then seemed to come to a decision. "Minerva, please draft letters to Igor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, tell them the essentials of the situation. Seeing how this boy is not yet old enough to compete, they most likely will not have an issue with his enrollment, but still, it is only proper to inform them. As for Edward…I think that…yes, I think that for such an unusual case, I shall invite him myself."

…

'Atchoo!'

Ed wiped his nose, and wondered for a second if maybe he had caught a cold. He looked up again at the lingering contrails of the plane, and tried to process what he had just seen.

Okay, so a big metal tube with wings on it just went flying overhead, with a great cloud of steam behind it. Was that a ship or something, or has this world just gone crazy? Some kind of advanced zeppelin…no, it was going too fast! Maybe a new German weapon…come to think about it…

Ed listened hard, and then walked out of the alley, towards the street.

This place is noisy, but not noisy enough. When I left it, this city was a warzone!

He cast about with his eyes, which fell on a dirty and partially trodden-on newspaper. Ed reached down, and picked it up. He read the date.

"W-WHAT?!"