Okay so this is the first time I've written a fic like this in a long time, so be aware when reading! (Also a note about the RoyEd in this: I know a lot of people are squicked by it but it's my OTP so all mentions and the like will be reasonably minor, this is a story about Harry.) Enjoy!

EDIT 5.08.2019 - This chapter has been rewritten.

Petunia Dursley opened the door to number four Privet Drive to see a tall man dressed in a blue uniform, covered by a long overcoat. He looked foreign, both the uniform style and his facial structure suggesting that he was not from anywhere near Privet Drive or even Europe for that matter.

"Ah, Petunia, I don't think we've met," He spoke, his voice firm and commanding, his demeanor suggesting that he was a man that was used to being obeyed, "My name is General Roy Mustang and I'm here about my godson, Harry."

Petunia gaped, her mouth opening and closing in an almost fish-like manner for a few moments, barely able to process what the man (Roy, she reminded herself) had just said. Godfather? Preposterous!

Her sister had said nothing of a godfather and those wretched wizard folks had said nothing about one either (not that they had said anything at all to her before they simply dropped her nephew on their doorstep).

Before Petunia had a chance to respond a loud voice coming from the inside of the house snapped her out of her daze, her lips smoothing back into a thin line.

"Petunia? Who's at the door?"

"Some foreign man, says he's here about Harry." She responded, beady eyes still trained on Roy. "I… was not aware my sister had appointed a godfather for her child. Here-" She opened the door wider, gesturing for Roy to enter the house. "Please come in, you'll have to talk to Vernon."

Roy made his way inside, letting Petunia take his coat, revealing him to be in full military dress, three stars adorning each of his shoulders, presumably a mark of his high rank. She led him into the sitting room, where Vernon was sat on the couch, reading the daily newspaper.

"Who the hell are you?" Vernon Dursley asked gruffly as he folded the newspaper together, setting it on the coffee table. He spoke in a tone of voice that Roy presumed was supposed to be considered commanding or perhaps even intimidating. He had seen worse.

"General Roy Mustang. I'm here to collect my godson, Harry Potter." Roy explained calmly, in the tone of voice that he usually reserved for politics.

Vernon scoffed. "You really expect me to believe that scum like Lily and James Potter would have known someone in the military?"

"I assure you, Lily Potter was a close friend of mine. Now, if you would like to inform me where my godson and his things are, we will be on our way shortly."

Vernon opened his mouth to reply but luckily for Roy, Harry took this chance to toddle into the living room, clad in a ridiculously oversized and ugly lime green sweater, which went down past his knees, his sleeves pushed up his arms.

The small boy looked up at Roy, face splitting into a huge smile as he seemed to remember the man, running over to him as fast as possible, tugging on his pant leg in an attempt to get him to pick him up. Roy bent over to pick him up, holding him with one arm as he turned to Petunia.

"Where are his things?" He asked the woman, completely ignoring Vernon who was turning redder and redder by the second as he watched Harry smile at Roy happily.

"The broom closet under the stairs but-" Roy didn't stop to listen to her objections, heading towards the broom closet where he quickly swept a few pieces of equally ugly and oversized clothing into an old and ratty child-sized backpack he found hung on the inside of the cupboard.

There were no toys or stuffed animals to be found, and Roy resolved that the first thing he would do when he got back to Amestris would be to buy Harry a completely new wardrobe, along with proper books and toys. If he could, he would have bought Harry better clothing right away but he only had enough British money to cover basic travel and food expenses.

As he left the house with Harry in one arm and his things in the other he could hear Vernon yelling loudly at his wife and decided that their garden would look better burnt to a crisp.

"Roy… why the hell do you have a child?"

Roy looked down at the toddler in his arms who was happily playing with the gold braided trim on his uniform, fat toddler fingers tugging at it gently. He was no longer dressed in the ugly clothing he had traveled in, instead wearing sensible overalls and a plain white shirt that Roy had purchased from a local shop as soon as he had returned to Amestris.

"His name is Harry and I'm going to be looking after him for a while. His mother and father are dead and Dumbledore didn't think to inform me of that, despite the fact that I am listed as the boy's godfather in their will. I had to find out through James's old friend, who neglected to contact me until Harry had been staying with them for over two years." Roy ground his teeth slightly in a display of frustration.

"So… we have a kid now?" Ed eyed the toddler with concern, "Do you even know the first thing about raising children?" Taking in the expression on Roy's face, Ed sighed, holding his arms out for the child. "Go call Hawkeye, she'll know what to do."

Reluctantly, Roy handed Ed the boy, who was instantly enamored with Ed's shiny automail fingers as he left to call his subordinate.

Seven years later Harry had become an integral part of the Mustang-Elric household and it was a common sight to see him running around the Central offices, where he was doted over by everyone that happened to get close to him. He was mischievous and inquisitive, behavior that exasperated his father and was encouraged by Ed.

Most people had been told that the boy was distantly related to Mustang, (through one of his relatives that lived beyond Drachma, several weeks worth of travel from Amestris) though only Ed and Roy's inner circle knew of exactly the circumstances that caused the boy to have to move to Amestris.

Harry had fit right in in Amestris, easily picking up the language and customs, happy to sit and play by himself while his parents worked.

Harry hadn't been back to England since he had first left, and though Roy made sure he was fluent in both his native English and Amestrian, as well as educating him on as many English customs as he was familiar with, Harry claimed that he felt little connection to his birth parents, having no memories of them, and only a few photos that Roy had managed to acquire from his wizarding friends. When Harry was younger he had spent hours curiously watching the little moving polaroids of his father and mother, constantly quizzing Roy on his parents but as he had aged he had become completely content with life in Amestris, closer to Ed and Roy than to anyone else.

It was July 31st, the morning of Harry's eleventh birthday when Ed spotted a large owl tapping at the living room window, a letter tied to its leg. He blinked twice, almost half convinced that he was seeing things.

"Roy…" He called out to his boyfriend, who was busy in the kitchen. "Why the fuck is there a bird trying to get into our house?"

Looking confused, Roy walked into the living room, a mug of coffee in each hand. "I…" He handed one of the mugs to Ed and walked over to the window, opening it and letting the bird fly in, landing on the coffee table and sticking its leg out so that Roy could remove the letter, setting his coffee mug down next to the bird.

"I forgot, this is how they send letters in England, but I don't know why they would send one after all this time unless…" He cracked open the wax seal, opening the letter and removing the contents. He unrolled the parchment, eyes scanning the yellowish pages. "They want Harry to leave Amestris and go to school in England."

As the Fuehrer's son, Harry was yet to go to a proper school (although there were quite a few options in Central, and after Bradley's demise, education had become a national priority) instead having been privately tutored by a variety of teachers (and Ed, who was instructing him in Alchemy, although he had yet to be allowed to do any transmutation beyond basic circles).

"What?! No! Dad, I don't want to leave!" Both Roy and Edward turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, barefoot and in pajamas, clearly having just woken up, his glasses askew and his hair even messier than usual.

"It's alright Harry, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. You know Ed and I would never make you leave."

Ed grabbed the letter from Roy, giving it a quick once over.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" He laughed, reading through the required materials list, "Cauldrons? Wands? Roy, they can't be serious." Roy looked at him flatly. "Fuck off, magic isn't real, this is bullshit."

Roy swatted him on the back of the head with one hand, taking the letter back with the other, "Don't swear in front of Harry." Harry looked minorly affronted by this, wincing in sympathy as Ed reached up to rub where Roy had hit him. "And yes, they're serious. What they call magic is just a more energy based form of Alchemy, based on incantations and wand-waving instead of science and transmutation circles. It's a dying art, because the number of people with the ability to manipulate energy instinctually is dwindling, and they refuse to believe that anyone outside their incredibly exclusive community could be possible of the same things with a little training."

This explanation seemed to placate both Harry and Ed, who sighed, finishing off his coffee and setting the empty mug down.

"Go put some clothes on, kid, today is your birthday, we can discuss this magic sh- stuff," He corrected himself after seeing Roy glare at him in warning, "After we celebrate. C'mon, Aunt Hawkeye promised that she'd take you out to the shooting range to show you a few things."