A/N: Hello guys! Another chapter form me! Woohoo! This is a little dark in comparison to the whole story so I decided to make it an interlude instead since the whole story is crack-ish as hell and filled with plotholes, I'm just going to let my imagination take me away. (and since I'm fangirling over TMR right now, don't expect too much. I've just read a lot of fics that makes me wanna hug him then run away because I know I'll die if I ever succeed at doing it. Literally. I also like the lying by omissions that most author that write TMR could pull off so naturally that it makes me grin like a maniac. XD

Someone told me that Ed not paying attention to the Welcome back party was a bit cold, and the whole Diary thing just made it go out of sorts, so well, here's how I see it:

Ed didn't really want the whole welcome back party thing since he was more than a little annoyed and he figured that he might snap or something, maybe, I haven't really thought about it, BUT Tom is a good conversationalist when he isn't being nasty like the evil dark lord he is, so Ed's sufficiently amused as if watching a good TV show or playing a particularly engaging video game. (Which is a very odd comparison considering who we're talking about here XD)

Warning: More SHOW than TELL. Minimal narrative. Lotsa Dialogue.

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Interlude: Discussions

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Ed's new penpal had a rather… unique view of the world.

Tom had been quite vocal about his hatred of muggles and their close-mindedness and the sheer amount of destruction that they could create. Ed was of the idea that Tom was afraid and he didn't even think of not voicing it out—if he had a problem with someone, he was going to tell it to their faces rather than making his dislike simmer in low heat. Tom hadn't taken the insinuation well and had clammed up tighter than the Pentagon. The boy—which he most definitely was even if he was more mature than any of the other adult wizards that Ed had encountered—probably wouldn't have told Ed of it had Ed not informed him that he was quite aware of the purpose of the Diary thank you very much and had received a whole week of silence from the Diary afterwards. It was really sad though that the most intelligent conversation that he could hold that wasn't with Mustang was in written form and with someone who isn't really entirely alive.

Edd had brought the Diary with him to Hogwarts if only because he really liked conversation with the boy. There was wit there when they had bantered and Ed could read the veiled insults as well as he could throw them back.

Ed hadn't told Harry about the whole book thing since he didn't really think it was important and all and he had more problems laying about, namely the fraudulent Lockhart who had decided that he was going to convert the whole Hogwarts into his very own fanbase which Ed could already see happening if Hermione's fawning over the blonde biscuit was anything to go by.

He'd been quite incensed that some of his calculations were absorbed by the diary, but upon asking for the words back, it suddenly imprinted itself outwards, in Tom's handwriting nonetheless and Ed was hard pressed not to be impressed. Those were pretty advanced physics calculations, probably on the level of aerospace dynamics if it were about that. It just went to show that Tom's capacity of learning was almost a match for Ed's. Almost.

Why do you hate the Mundanes so much? I mean, they've made brilliant progress on the whole Human Rights thing and they probably wouldn't wage war if the public had any say in it. The golden rule or whatever.

The page stayed blank for almost a minute and Ed was about to sigh in defeat and leave the Diary for something more productive. (He couldn't help it. The last time he enjoyed talking this much with someone was Al and we all know how that happened.)

Then finally, the elegant writing came.

It was war when I was alive. I saw how much damage they could do. I didn't like that.

Even magic could do those things.

They outnumber us almost a million to one. The statement was a fact. Not even an exaggeration if Ed could read it right and he was pretty sure that he did. They could wipe us out in hours if we don't do something.

Aaand you just decided to go on a mass murdering spree, is that it?

What gave it away?

I'm not stupid. Ed began. I can see, you know, how much Dark energy is pouring out of this Diary. It gave off the exact same feeling that the turban-head-creepy-double-headed-snake-guy gave off, though this one is much tamer than that one. I admit though I'm a little stuck on how you actually managed to bind yourself to something inanimate. Even the portraits have some sort of special wood and paint that lets the paintings be anchored, but differently from this.

I have to admit I underestimated you quite a bit.

So what does this mean? Your soul is a half. I don't quite understand the concept, but it seems like unlike your mad psychopathic self who's probably running around like a puppy who suddenly lost its master, you actually have reason.

Souls are fickle. Ed could feel the wryness dripping from the words. It seems that in my haste to become immortal, my other half left behind reason and decided to split himself again, I know not how many times.

Any guesses?

Three or seven. I'd wager on the latter since that number is said to be the most powerful.

Seven times? Ed gaped. You splityour soul, don't you? Then what the hell? You mean there's a 0.8%-ish of a soul out there? Fuck that's disgusting. No wonder Moldywarts went insane and killed everyone.

I cannot claim to know what was going through my other… 0.8% of a soul if he ever reached that point.

SO it's not 0.8%? I mean how can you even function on that small amount of soul energy? I mean, the whole concept of splitting your soul was so that you could anchor yourself so that you wouldn't be able to pass on to whatever next plane exists in this world, right? So what is the whole point of being immortal if the majority of it is spent doing something that would probably destroy this world that you love?

I do not love anything! I cannotlove anything. I was born through the means of a love potion and it has dulled my sense of morality. I do not think that would be remediable by any means that is present today.

Then I have a question for you.

Ask away. I do not have anything much more worthwhile to do.

Would you like to be whole again? You don't have to answer just yet. I'm only asking by the way, not finding ways to do it yet. I have to see whether you actually managed to do some good when you were sane to half-sane.

I did not think otherwise.

Okay, so last question, what year were you born in?

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"Mustang, I have a favor to ask."

"What is it now?" Mustang asked huffily as he sipped from his cup of coffee. He was still clearly half-asleep. "As you can see, I'm enjoying my morning routine and I would like not to be disturbed by anyone who doesn't have any curves."

Ed grinned. "Oh, no I think you'll like this one."

"Hm?"

"Would you like to go to Diagon Alley with me?"

Mustang's eyes widened a fraction for the briefest period of time (it was so fucking creepy how good he was at that even if he didn't have any formal training). "What's the catch?"

"I need your help with some court records."

"Isn't Hughes supposed to be the go-to person for these kinds of connections? Why the sudden request though?"

"I'm not asking for court records like that. I mean Wizengamot, you know, the whole wizard court thing."

"They have a court?" Mustang frowned. "I mean of course they do. They're a secret society. They would have a court. What do you need my help with?"

"I went to the Ministry last week after a conversation someoneand let me tell you, their laws are gritty and medieval. I mean, I know that all governments are corrupt but this one?"

Mustang grimaced. "That bad? How come you went to me instead of someone from that part of the world?"

"Are you serious?" Ed almost did a double take. "They're all barmy. They have absolutely no idea of what good order is. I can't trust any of them for this."

"And you expect me to be able to do something? I mean, if any of your letters are true, then that means that no one that doesn't have magic doesn't even have the slightest chance of changing their minds."

"Don't worry. Let me deal with that." Ed said blithely and continuing on. "There's someone that would like to make changes, good changes to the system that's currently in place and they're good enough at planning to get what they want—"

"Why are you doing this, though? You don't care at all about what happens to the world in general, so why now?"

Ed smirked. "Really? Well, this looks like so much fun on my side. I mean knocking down high and mighty old geezers from their pedestals? Fun. Making a whole society sing you praises and worship the ground you work on—"

"Really?"

"Nah." Ed shrugged. "This place is making me want to up and travel but kids my age aren't exactly inconspicuous when they decide to travel the world, so messing with people it is. For now."

"I'm such a good role model." Mustang's lips tilted upwards with something that resembled a grin. "So you want me to do something on this end? I have a lot of time though. I don't doubt that I'll run for some position when I get tired of teaching, but I'm still just twenty-one. I'd like a bit of peace and quiet before diving headfirst to that pack of sharks."

Ed noted that they were at least the same age, mentally even if his were dog years since he doubted that this Mustang had actually been through actual war.

"Three years." Mustang promised.

"I didn't think you'd set a limit for yourself." Ed commented.

"I can see you stirring trouble in the horizon. It would be greatly frustrating if I'm not in a position to change the outcome of things even the slightest bit."

"So, campaign?"

Mustang hummed. "I'll be drafting plans."

"Good luck." Fuhrer.