Hello all! I've recently gotten into the FMA fandom (I know, what took me so long?), and being one for crossovers, I've decided to tackle the infamous Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter crossover cliche. I realize that there are a billion and one out there and that I'm only adding to the beast, but I just couldn't resist. I'm writing this fic simply for fun's sake.
Now on to some important story notes. Through the power of my creative license, I'm changing some things about the FMA and HP universe, so I guess this fic can be considered AU. Change number one: I'm changing the dates of when certain things took place. I'm pretty sure that JK Rowling said Hogwarts was founded over a millennium ago, but I'm gonna knock a couple centuries off that date so that it's more around the fourteenth or fifteenth century. As for Amestris and Edward's whole journey, I'm pushing that back a century or two so that it happened closer to when Hogwarts was founded.
Change number two: Our world isn't separated from Ed's world by the gate, I'm making them one in the same with our world being what lies in the future for Ed's world. So Amestris, like several countries have done in the past, is eventually broken up and renamed into what it is today. At the moment, I'm not sure what it would end up being because I don't think Germany has that many deserts. This change also means that the FMA movie never happened, Ed was able to get Al's body back with the stone without any complications. I'll try and insert these facts into the story for those of you who don't read authors notes, but I felt an explanation was necessary anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and I don't own Harry Potter.
Both my grandfather and father were right. The muggles are horrible and disgusting creatures not fit to walk the earth.
Alchemy was such a complex and amazing skill that very few wizards, if any at all, had the patience to learn due to magic being so much more simple. Only the most brilliant of minds could achieve anything worthwhile with it, and it was the one thing the muggles had that made them acceptable in the eyes of even the most closed-minded wizards and witches. Even my grandfather, who grew to hate muggles with a fiery passion, respected those of them who were alchemists, saying that they were the best of the best among the non-magical and that someday they may even be able to successfully bring the dead back to life.
What an amazing feat that would have been... None of that matters now though. The Ministry of Magic is investigating on the matter to prevent something like this from happening to us in the future, but as of yet, all we know is that something spooked the muggles and as a result, alchemists were to blame. It happened too quickly for us to intervene, starting in Amestris, a military-run country that is crumbling as I write this, and from there, it spread like wildfire. All across the world, alchemists were hunted down like animals and killed. The many books and written material on the subject were gathered together and burned. I was thankfully able to save a few of the more precious tomes on alchemy, but other than that, it's all gone. They are all gone. Ministry officials have been searching for survivors to take into protective custody, but as of yet, none have been found.
~Nehemiah Slytherin; November 20, 1791
For the longest time, The Gate had been well fed by the energy alchemists poured into their transmutations. Then suddenly it all stopped and The Gate roared Its displeasures at the loss of Its main food source. Only a small trickle of alchemy remained and it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy The Gate's ever growing hunger. For many years, The Gate suffered like this, starving and longing for the days when foolish alchemists would sacrifice hundreds to Its mouth in exchange for power, then one day an old man activated an array so complex and forbidden, any knowledge of it had been lost to the ages.
Or so The Gate thought.
At first, The Gate was so shocked that there still existed an alchemist skilled enough to open Its doors that It simply stared in wonder as the old man shouted his demands. It was then that The Gate noticed that the old man wasn't just using alchemy to power his detailed array, he was using something else. Something that wove its way into the alchemic power flowing into the array, something new and amazing that The Gate had never experienced before.
Intrigued, The Gate prodded at the old man, tentatively absorbing this new power being offered to It. 'Delicious,' The Gate decided. Quite possibly even better than alchemy, and it was unrestricted by the rules of Equivalent Exchange, something that might explain why The Gate had never tried it before.
The old man trembled under Its power, but remained strong nonetheless and repeated his demands. He was sweaty and pale, The Gate noticed, his eyes glazed over in madness, possibly due to sickness or old age, The Gate didn't really care either way. Finally acknowledging that the old man was doing this all for a reason, The Gate turned Its attention to the array painted on the floor and watched the twisting thing within it attempt to form into something recognizable.
"Please!" the old man shouted, his body shaking, this time from having to keep such a powerful array going for so long. "Bring him back!"
Turning Its attention back to the old man, The Gate spoke, "Tell me, alchemist, what is this power you use that winds around your alchemy?"
"My magic?" the old man asked, confused.
Magic? Really now? Long ago, when both magic and alchemy were in their beginning stages, The Gate had decided that alchemy had more potential and pursued that rather than any so-called magic. Apparently, It had bet on the wrong horse.
"Please!" the old man shouted again, tears pouring out of his crazed eyes.
Grinning internally, The Gate decided that yes, It would give this man what he wanted, but what he was offering just wasn't quite enough. The Gate needed more, more of his alchemy and much more of his magic. It was starving. It hadn't had a decent meal in centuries and It wasn't going to pass up this chance. Who knew when It would get another one?
It soaked up as much power as It could, tearing into the man and pulling more and more of his magic in through Its doors, and as it did, the writhing creature in the center of the array began to become more distinguished, forming from the inside-out. Organs, blood, bones, fat and muscles followed by sickly pale skin. The old man shuddered and moaned in pain, but It needed more, more, more. Always more and never enough.
Then, with one last agonized cry, the old man's body exploded outward, liquefied by The Gate's strength, and all that remained in his place was a core of magic, glowing tantalizingly in the air. Swallowing the last of his magic up, The Gate finished the forbidden transmutation; watching as the bloody array seemed to lift off the ground and wrap itself around the newly-created being's shuddering form, staining pale skin with the array's red markings. Satisfied with the latest alchemic creation, The Gate slammed Its doors closed in the hope that the one It brought back would provide It with food in the near future.
The opening of The Gate was felt throughout the wizarding world like a surge of dark magic, chilling the bones of witches and wizards alike. Even Voldemort, still a parasitic, shadowed form of himself felt it. It set off magical alarms in the Ministry of Magic and sent Aurors and Ministry officials racing to the source. In the middle of this dark surge, the will of Nicholas Flamel along with several tall stacks of paper and books on his research appeared in the office of Albus Dumbledore.
Perhaps if Dumbledore had not been so distracted by the Triwizard Tournament and Harry Potter's unexpected involvement in the competition, he would have made the connection between Flamel's death and the dark surge rather than assume it was Voldemort or the Death Eaters up to no good; And maybe if Dumbledore had not been so focused on finding out just what it was that Voldemort had done, who it was that entered Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire, and what the connection was to the Triwizard Tournament, he might have thought to investigate on Flamel's death sooner. However, Dumbledore was extremely distracted, and so when Flamel's research appeared in his office cluttering it to the brim, and his will appeared on Dumbledore's desk, the old wizard simply shook his head sadly at the loss of a friend and promised himself that he'd go through the papers at a later date when he had more time. With that in mind, Dumbledore left his office to go help prepare for the first task. The dragons would be arriving any day now.
While Dumbledore was busy taking care of the current events at his school, the Ministry of Magic, still on edge over the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, was left to deal with Flamel's final alchemic creation.
Among the Wizarding World, not much about alchemy was known to begin with. The only common knowledge about it was the ability to create gold and of course, for those witches and wizards who paid attention in history class, the worldwide massacre of alchemists with Nicholas Flamel being the only known survivor. Only a select few knew about things like human transmutation, so it's understandable that the Aurors and Ministry Officials were unprepared for the gruesome scene they aparated on and had no idea just what they were dealing with when they spotted the nude form curled up on the ground.
"Dear Merlin," one Auror breathed before casting a quick spell to neutralize the strong scent of blood in the air. Her wide eyes took in the blood and gore that covered every surface. "What could have happened here?"
"I don't know," another Auror murmured before gesturing at the pale form still curled up on the ground, unmoving and seemingly unaware of the wand a third Auror had trained on it. "But I'm sure that thing had something to do with it."
"That 'thing' is a child," the first Auror snapped back, her hands on her hips.
"Don't be so sure," the second Auror said. "Look at those markings. That's not all blood covering its skin."
"Is it even still alive?" the third Auror asked nervously, his wand never straying an inch, ready to curse the being should it try to attack.
"Only one way to find out," the first Auror said, shrugging off her travel cloak as she approached it.
"Be careful, Nikki, it could attack at any moment!" the second Auror hissed.
"Stop being so paranoid, it hasn't moved since we got here," she said with a roll of her eyes. Crouching down next to the pale form, she draped her cloak over it before quiety calling back to the second Auror, "It's not a monster, it's just a young boy." Turning her attention back to the boy, her eyes traveled from his long blonde hair, stained orange in some places from the blood, down to the frown on his face and his eyes closed tight. Patting him lightly on the shoulder, she said gently, "You probably saw what happened here, huh? Things a boy your age shouldn't be seeing."
"Sir!" a ministry official who specialized in forensic spells called over to the second Auror. "The blood definitely belongs to Nicholas Flamel."
"I was afraid of that," the Auror sighed. "Nikki, would you get away from that thing!?"
"For the last time," she snapped, "It's not a thing, it's a-"
It was at the moment that the boy's eyes slid open, finally reacting to all the noise around him. They were golden as the sun, and to Nikki, reminiscent of a werewolf's eyes.
"Oh," she said, blinking, before the surprise faded and the motherly instincts took over. "Hey, it's alright," she said gently. "We're here to help. Everything's going to be okay."
He frowned at her, his brow furrowing, before he finally opened his mouth and spoke...
Gibberish, it appeared. She couldn't understand a word he was saying.
"You see! He's speaking in tongue!" the second Auror shouted, drawing his wand.
"Are you... you, thinking it's a demon or something?" the third Auror asked, his wand shaking nervously.
"Would you both stop it already!" Nikki snapped. "He's just speaking a different bloody language! Is that a crime?" Smiling kindly at the boy, she pulled out her own wand and pointed it at his forehead. "Here, let me fix that for you," she said before murmuring a quick translation spell.
As the flash of light left her wand, she realized her mistake a second too late. She only had the chance to see his eyes widen at the sight of the spell and the rest following that happened too quickly for her to comprehend. She could recall him pushing her away and the sound of an echoing clap before a stone spike jutted out of the ground and impaled her in the arm holding the wand. As the second Auror shot off a spell that bound the boy up in magical ropes, she tried to work past her screams of pain that it wasn't his fault, that she had spooked him and he was only doing what he thought was necessary to protect himself. However, any explanation she may have been able to offer were drowned out by the boy's own cries of rage and fear. The last thing she recalled before she passed out was the sight of the boy falling still on the ground, panting heavily, all of the fight drained out of him.
Cornelius Fudge stood before the magical holding cell containing their latest criminal, a nameless boy being charged for murdering Nicholas Flamel and assaulting an Auror. The boy slept soundly on his cot inside the cell, dressed in a short sleeved shirt and long pants that didn't quite fit him. Simple and grey in color. At the time, it was all they had on hand to offer him. His hands were tied tightly to his sides to prevent him from using any more of the dark magic he had performed at the scene of the crime.
Aside from the red markings branding his body (a clear sign of dark magic in Fudge's own opinion), he certainly looked harmless. Not at all the type to do what had been done to Flamel. Yes, a few well placed cleaning charms made him out to be the picture of innocence, but Fudge knew better. He had seen the photos taken of the crime scene and had gone over all of the reports written up on the event the night before. He knew that the sleeping boy before him was simply a facade to something much more dangerous. A demon perhaps, or some other dark creature they've yet to discover, he didn't quite know what, but he did know that whatever it was, it was a threat to him and the rest of the wizarding world and it needed to be taken care of.
"I want everyone who was present at the crime scene of Mr. Flamel's murder to be obliviated. Only myself and my colleagues who will be present at the trial need to know about this," Fudge said with a quick glance to the wizard standing at his side. The man was a part of his inner circle who specialized in memory charms.
"Yes sir," the man said curtly before taking his leave.
'The wizarding world has enough to worry about what with the recent Death Eater attack. They don't need to concern themselves with a demon that is already in custody,' Fudge thought, frowning down at the blonde. 'And anything the wizards present at the crime scene would have offered at the trial will be written up in those reports.'
Turning on his heel, Fudge left the holding cells to attend to other business.
The trial went fairly quickly despite a few disagreements between the members of the Wizengamot. While it was agreed upon by all that the boy was dangerous (demon, Fudge insisted on calling him) what to do with the boy was another matter entirely. The main problem involved the fact that none of the translation spells worked on him and even their best researchers couldn't figure out what language he was speaking. This led many to argue that the spells didn't work because he didn't even have the capacity to learn English or any other language because his mind was more animal than human, and an animal could hardly be tried as a human.
Of course, this argument led to another argument that they had to be completely sure that he wasn't a sentient being because you couldn't just euthanize a dangerous human the same way you did a dangerous animal. Among this argument was another argument that if it was decided that he is human enough, he was still a child and should be charged as a child. This opinion was quickly squashed after the crime scene photos were passed around again.
Among all this arguing, it occurred to one of the members of the Wizengamot that perhaps the boy had some sort of immunity to magic and that's why the translation spells didn't work. A quick test confirmed the theory and also strengthened the general opinion that the blond was dangerous. A dark creature that could absorb charms and spells better than a dragon's hide could deflect them, and just look at what he did to Flamel! Granted, there were some spells that worked, like the cleaning spells, but the fact that there were many that didnt work was too dangerous to ignore.
In the end, it was decided that Azkaban was the only place for a creature such as this. If he truly was more animal than human, not capable of actual thought and unable to be held responsible for his actions, then the demetors wouldn't bother him and his cell would just be another holding pen. If this wasn't the case though, then he was getting exactly what he deserved. Fudge was sure of it.
Bam! First chapter done! Minor facts I may have gotten wrong, such as Flamel's age, just consider it part of the AU. So Im kind of doing the Pride!Ed thing, but not exactly. Im mostly just using his look. Anything else that seems like Pride!Ed (like changes in personality) is simply a result of whats happening to Ed right now and isnt really meant to make him seem more like Pride. Also, I'll be posting this first chapter in the regular FMA section, but by the second chapter, it'll be over in the crossover section (still not quite sure how I feel about the whole separation of crossovers thing).
Review please and tell me what you think!