Body Snatcher


Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Fullmetal Alchemist. :(

This story is AU after Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and episode 51 of Fullmetal Alchemist.


The Battle for The Hogwarts Express

When Harry came to, there was blood. He couldn't see it; his vision was still dark and bleary with nightmares and shadows that chased the corners of his vision as his eyes darted around the room. Harry could smell the blood however; the thick clotted wetness had matted his hair where he had hit the table as he fell. His head hurt. Someone's scream was still echoing between his ears. His mother… or… Edward's mother? …Who is Edward?

I don't know.

…Who am I?

I am the Fullmeta-

Harry hissed as he dragged shaky fingers through the curdled clot at his scalp, the gluey scab ripped at his hair and was all but completely solid- how long had he been out?

It wasn't just his head that burned as he pulled at the knots in his hair, something warm trickled down his forearm and Harry turned his swaying eyes to his hand. It was wet. Bleeding. His palm was a thin but bright smear of red and little rivulets chased each other to the crease in his elbow. The wound was superficial. Not deep- not really. Four little cuts, one on the underside of each knuckle, and a fifth one, long- running from his thumb to the root of his wrist.

Drip. Drip.

Superficial maybe, but one of the cuts must have nicked a vein or something. Harry clenched his fist to stem the flow of claret, and the pressure forced another final few drops down his wrist and on to the plush floor below.

The train was silent, lifeless. A few carriages down Harry could hear the distant groan of metal. No voices, though. No people.

Blinking sluggishly, the boy pushed himself up off the floor. What had just happened anyway? Something tumbled from Harry's lap as he stood- a card. His tired eyes followed it to the floor but he couldn't make out its face for the dark smudges of blood that had dried there. Had Harry been holding that at some point? Was that what had cut him? Why couldn't he remember?

Harry winced as his hand wandered once again to the back of his throbbing skull. The mother-voice was still screaming. He clenched his eyes shut and brought his stinging palm to his mouth, sucking at the crease in each finger until the cuts went numb and the blood stopped flowing. Slowly he steadied his breathing and opened his eyes, letting his hand fall to his side. As Harry straightened his gaze he was faced with the wide black expanse of the window, he frowned, and then, remembered-

"I am not like you. I'm not- not- I'm NOT-!"

There had been a Dementor. Standing- or floating outside the window. Had it been looking for a way in? Or just looking for Harry?

Maybe it had been looking for Edward.


Outside the air exploded with sound. Great crashes of thunder like a whip cracking across the surface of the sky. There was no light though, just sound. It reminded Harry of bonfire night at the Dursley's; a day he would spend every year tethered to his cupboard like an animal- that's all his family thought of him as anyway, an animal. They never let him out on bonfire night. Maybe they figured he'd spook like a dog. Maybe Aunt Petunia was scared he'd piss on the carpet.

Harry sort of knew what fireworks were meant to look like; Mrs. Harrot made the whole class draw them every November 5th. Coloured chalk on black paper. Harry always ended up with last pickings though, usually white and the fiddly end bit of blue that nobody else wanted. (Sometimes there was green, but he never picked it up.) It was a competition; the most lifelike picture would go on a display in the hallway, framed with corrugated card, and the winner would get a Cadbury's Freddo.

When Harry had submitted his sky of perfect circles, he was sure that he would win. The other kids had scribbled ovals out of swirls and rainbow coloured dashes; their pictures smudged by careless fingers in an approximation of a- (Caitlyn? Claire? Charlotte?) wheel.

Harry had never seen fireworks. Not even on the telly. But sometimes when he closed his eyes he saw rings- like the ones he got from looking at the sun for too long- and Harry thought that they were beautiful. Everybody said that fireworks were beautiful. In his cupboard, on November 5th, Harry imagined a sky on fire, strung with rings of white and blue.

He never got the Freddo.

Harry shivered then, and shook the memory off like a blanket of snow. He touched his lips with a bloody finger, they were cold. Probably blue. There was no doubt in his mind that Dementors had been here. Harry hadn't thought about bonfire night for five years. But now it was becoming all too easy to get lost in the drudging snow drifts of his past- and there was that unnatural cold that lingered about the air. It was the cold of a meat-salting cellar, an abattoir; a place of death, of murder, and the perpetual wintriness only otherwise found in graveyards and tombs. Harry shuddered again.

An explosion rocked the carriage then; and the floor flung itself from beneath Harry's feet. Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry made a lunge in the vague direction of the door and something screeched through the window like a rocket, searing the space where his head had been just moments before. Harry felt the hairs on his forearms fizzle away as a blanket of seeping, scorching- suffocating heat enveloped the train. In the distance Harry could suddenly hear shouting- life, though it was a long way off. Scrambling blindly with one hand, he fumbled for the latch on the carriage door- giving an involuntary hiss as his bare palm ghosted over the white hot handle. Tears of pain prickled at the corners of his vision, and he held his blistered hand loosely in mid air, eyes still clamped shut. He needed to get out of there- how many other people were trapped in their carriages- stuck in white hot cages ready to be picked off one by one?

The metal gave a massive groan and Harry felt the carriage rock beneath his feet. Panic started to rise in his throat at the growing sound of footsteps. Okay. Think, Harry. Think.

If the doors were spelled shut, then could he get out by attacking them physically?

Harry shot a quick look around the room, and his eyes settled on the fold-out table. It was secured to the ground with a hollow metal pipe that held the whole thing steady and gave it extra support. Ripping off the soft wood tabletop, Harry wrenched the pole out of its slot in the floor. Raising it above his head he brought the pipe down on the glass of the window-


Nothing. The scalded glass remained perfectly intact, and the metal in Harry's hand was growing hotter every second. He raised the pipe to strike again when an idea struck him…

What if…?

Oh, the science would work- he had no doubt about that. It was simple chemistry- covered in the first chapters of Dudder's GCSE Science book. Really, the success of Harry's idea was just down to how magically enforced the windows were… Hmm…it was worth a shot at least. Though failure would be particularly unpleasant…

Bracing himself, Harry thought of Sirius.

There was no memory that conjured the same feeling of pure- not happiness, maybe, but hope. Hope of escape from the house that had bred his nightmares. Hope of escape from the nightmares themselves. Hope for a family. Hope for a father. Hope for regaining the love that Harry knew he must have had once. Hope that one day somebody would look at him the same way that Alphonse did. Hope that Sirius would be that somebody.

Hope. Hope. Hope.

'But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted… a different home…'

Hope hope hope.

'What- live with you? Leave the Dursleys?'


"Are you mad?" Harry felt the familiar words drift passed the curve of his lips. "Of course I want to-" and then he caught himself. 'Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?'

'You want to? You mean it?'

'Yeah I mean it!'

When Sirius smiled then, Harry saw stars. His happy memory. His happiest memory. Harry felt-

Cold. Oh god. Cold. It's freezing.

Harry opened his eyes to stare out into the black expanse of the window. As his plan had predicted, the black stared balefully back. Frost bloomed beneath the skeletal fingers of the figure that reached to him from beyond the glass. Tightening his grip around the still scalding table leg- Harry knew his time frame was small, and swung the pole in an arch above his head before bringing it down on the window.


The sound was small but crystal clear. Where the metal rested against the window there was now a tiny spider web. As the frost spread beneath the Dementor's hand, so did the crack in the glass, and what had once been a hairline fracture spread to become a full-sized fissure. A sinkhole. Five seconds later, the window imploded.

The chill was must worse without the barrier of glass between Harry and the Dementor. Closing his eyes, Harry forced Sirius again to the forefront of his mind-

"Expecto Patronum!"

One hour ago.

Hermione Granger paced the prefect's carriage, Crookshanks winding his way between her ankles in an effort to get her to sit back down so that he could enjoy her lap again. The bronze, bushy-haired girl bit down on her fingertips as her eyes darted to the open window. Not five minutes ago they had sent out owls on mass to Hogwarts in order to alert the headmaster about… well, about whatever was going on with the train. She didn't like it, not one bit. Her only consolation was that across from her Malfoy looked equally as worried- face twisted in a wide eyed grimace that made him look quite ill. If this were a Deatheater attack, the Slytherin Prince would be gloating right about now. Right?

The prefects carriage was long and communal, the seats were high backed so there were no compartments dividing the houses. Here Hermione could see Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor united in their uncertainty. She was pretty sure she could guess how they were feeling. All these students had been chosen to bear- responsibility, as it were. Usually this would mean just reporting licentious behaviour to the staff, upholding the Hogwarts 'law' or leading first years to their dorms, but today- for Hermione at least- the word responsibility seemed to garner another meaning- a heavier meaning. Prefects were not only responsible for controlling their houses behaviour- but for protecting their houses, right? Giving students someone to turn to in their hour of need. It was all in the prefect handbook. You were meant to be a councillor as well as a guiding hand.

According to Hogwarts a History, originally Prefects had been guardians. A select group of students who excelled in practical magic- that could protect the students while they slept from all manner of monsters. That had been in the dark ages, the muggle days of memento mori. Back when Dark magic and Dark creatures were as every day and every night as potions class and pumpkin juice in the great hall. Death was a likelihood in those times, not just a possibility. That was back when the lake had still been a part of the forest. The whole area where the Quidditch pitch was now had been thick with trees supporting an impenetrable canopy that reached five storeys high. Back in those days the forest had reached the castle walls- that was why there were no windows for ten floors on that face of the castle- no dormitories either; it would have been too easy for something to creep inside for a late night snack. Now- if Hermione's calculations were correct, that blank wall was mostly part of the room of requirement, (though with Hogwarts you never did know).

Looking around at the waxy faces of her peers Hermione increased her speed as she paced ferociously down the aisle, breathing deeply. The owls shouldn't take too long to get to Hogwarts. The train ride wasn't so far and owls weren't restricted to following the tracks and- and- Dumbledore must've realised something was wrong by now right? The Order would be here. The Order would be here. The Order should be here damn it- why weren't they here?

If Hermione was honest, it was the stillness more than anything that was getting to her nerves. The train had stopped ten minutes ago but as of yet nothing more had happened. The night outside the window was silent, and nothing moved amongst the black. The head boy had gone to the driver to find out what was wrong and had yet to return. It shouldn't have been a fifteen minute trip. Everyone was getting anxious, it was written on their faces; one of the Ravenclaw prefects had their charms book out and was flicking through shields and protectives. He raised his wand and a Gryffindor seventh year reached out to slap it away.

"Dinnae be stupid. Whit about Harvey? Ye cannae just lock him ootwi like that."

"It's been fifteen minutes he's not coming back."

"Mibbe he's- A din' know, helping some students- daein' his job. Our job. Wean's are ginnae be scared oot there. Dinnae need clarty shit's like ye to bugger up whit's already a bad situation. Whit if he's in trouble. Ye lay down that spell and-"

"Whatever's out there can't hurt us as long as we put the shields up now!"

"Are ye even listening to me, y' nyaff? Stop haverin' an start looking up something that'll keep aabody safe not just yer own foustie little ass-"

Several students were trying to ignore the spat that was stirring between the some of the Gryffindor prefects and the Ravenclaw's huddled round the book. The Slytherins for the most part remained silent and stony faced throughout, though most looked like they thought the Ravenclaw had a point.

Hermione bit her lip and sat down on the seat behind her and something knocked at the door at the far end of the carriage.

The train car fell silent.

Prefects exchanged glances and there was another knock- louder this time, and-

"Bloody hell- let us in- Hermione? Anybody? Let us in!"

"Ron!" Hermione breathed, racing to the carriage door.

"Don't!" The Ravenclaw that had been arguing with the seventh year jumped up from his seat. "It might be a trap!" This was followed by various cries of "Quick!" and "Stop her!", but Hermione slipped past the few prefects who could be bothered to get in her way, and slid open the deadbolt that held the door closed with a thick crack.

"Ron!" she threw herself at the boy. Ginny moving to the side awkwardly while Lavender and Parvati remained firmly attached to either of her brother's arms. Hermione halted when she saw the two other girls and Ginny gave her an expressive look before pulling everyone inside the prefect's carriage.

"What happened? Where's Harry, why isn't he with you?"

"I-." Ron started, and but Ginny cut him off rolling her eyes.

"I found Ron with these two-"

"Hey, I wasn't about to just leave them where they were, it's dangerous out there-"

"Personally I think he got a little side tracked-"

"-They kidnapped me alright?"

Ginny elbowed Ron in the ribs and Lavender instantly started to coo over his injured stomach.

"So where's Harry then?"

"Don't worry about him too much 'Mione, Harry's a pro at this stuff, yeah? He's probably taking down Deatheaters as we speak."

Somehow that didn't make Hermione feel any better.

"He's back in the last carriage." Ginny supplied. "We left him with Neville. I think he's gathering the DA and setting up some wards. Should be done by now though… I wonder what's taking him so long."

There was a crack then. One, two, three, four- five-six-seveneightnineten-

Within twenty seconds the carriage was full of grim-faced adults. Many of the prefects started to scream, but Hermione let out a cry of relief- recognising Order members and staff amongst the throng. Dumbledore apparated in last, eyes cold and robes swirling about his feet in a way that created a very impressive picture, "Thank god!" the girl breathed, running forwards to meet them.

She was met halfway by Tonks, whose hair still shone a vibrant yellow- though it seemed to be dulling by the second. "Just got the call." She said. "What's happening?"

"I don't know- the train just stopped- and we sent Harvey Kirkman to find out what caused it- but he hasn't come back- and you don't think- it isn't a Deatheater attack right? Because you would-" Hermione's eyes darted to Snape who was in deep conversation with Dumbledore, before flickering back to the metamorphmagus, she swallowed, "-you would know right?"

"If it is an attack then old' Voldie kept proper schtumm about it." Tonks said, eyes shining with concern- and then paused as if considering something. "How old are you Hermione?"

"Old enough." The girl replied, tilting up her chin.

Tonks let out a sigh. "Alright, come here- you too Ron, you've both got at least some experience and we could use the extra help."

"What about me?" Ginny said. "I've got experience! I was at the ministry too, you know."

"Ginny, no- you're too young." Ron said, and the little red-head felt instantly betrayed.

"How old were you when you went after the philosopher's stone- or the- the chamber- or Sirius?"

Nobody missed the girl's small hesitation at the mention of the chamber, and Ron stiffened slightly. "That's not the point, Gin'," He said softly, "You're my sister, I-"

Tonks grimaced and interrupted before the boy's hole got any deeper. "Ginny, listen- there'll be a time for you to fight but it's not now, okay? There are other ways you can help- just stay here." The simultaneous weight of all three eyes was enough to stop Ginny from arguing back, she just fumed silently as her brother and Hermione turned to join the group of staff and the Order as they began to assess the situation. Ginny Weasley felt more than a bit helpless.

The small silence was broken as Malfoy strode over to slam the carriage door closed behind her- jerking her out of her small pool of self pity. "What the hell do you think you're doing Weaslette? Close the damn door alrea-"

"Wait- stop!" A small voice cried, a figure barrelling through the door and knocking the Slytherin back a bit. Ginny immediately recognised the boy as Neville, crouching down she tried to catch his eyes as he bent forward- doubled over and out of breath. "What's wrong Nev'?"

"It's Harry!" His cheeks wobbled a little as he spoke, raw with what looked like cold but could just have easily been tears.

Ginny's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" Her voice raised a little- enough to raise Malfoy's eyebrows but not enough to get the attention of the Order. "What's happened to Harry?" She grabbed him by the forearms and the boy flinched.

"I can't-" The boy's eyes darted and he swallowed thickly. "You have to come- I can't-"

Ginny clutched his hand, "Take me to him." and so he did. Five seconds later, door slightly ajar, it was if they'd never been there at all.

Neither noticed Draco Malfoy slip out after them.


"Neville! Neville wait up!" Gasp. Wheeze. Gasp. "Neville please- slow down-!"

Ginny hadn't known that Neville was such a quick runner. In fact, she would have been the first to bet against him in a race against time. But as she chased him down the empty carriages to find Harry- wherever Harry was- she was quickly coming to realise that there were many things she hadn't known about Neville Longbottom.


"Neville! Neville please- you're going too fast-!"


"Neville!" But her voice was lost in the overhead boom of Dumbledore's voice. Ginny could no longer see Neville, he'd probably reached the next carriage by now. Ginny tried to run faster but a stitch had taken hold of her side and man, she had forgotten just how much they hurt. The carriage was already empty; Ginny had started to lose Neville when they'd been pushing passed the waves of students as they all hurried to the Prefect cabins. Most of the school had probably already portkeyed out of there by now. What if Harry was gone too?

No. Neville said that Harry had needed help so-


"Aaa-ch!" Ginny hissed, slowing to a slight limp as she curled a hand around her side. For someone on the Quidditch team she sure wasn't very fit…

As she reached the end of the carriage Ginny reached out a hand to pull open the door. It would be unlocked where all the students had already made their way through it to get to the evacuation point.

She fumbled in the darkness for the handle. Ginny exhaled a thin cloud of air as her hand settled on the cool metal bar. She pushed. Once. Twice.

… Nothing. "Okay…" she said, voice wavering slightly, and shook the bar a little harder.

Nothing. It wouldn't move. It wouldn't budge.

"Alohomora!" She whispered, but nothing happened except-

No. No- no- no no nononono.

As the light of the spell died Ginny saw it out the corner of her eye. Something- on the floor. There and then gone- so quickly-

Her blood went cold. Every part of her body seemed to freeze instantly- and she listened.



…Had she imagined it?




When had Dumbledore stopped the alarm?

Silence- and then- ever so quietly, the whisper of skin swept softly across the floor.

Closer now. Closer.

Ginny turned and ran.

Her words, at first, started out as nothing more than a low, pained moan. "Nononononono-"

Her chest ached but she ran.

"Nononono- please no- please no- no- Merlin. Merlin-"

Ginny flew forward as the carriage gave a great moan and jerked beneath her feet. Behind the carriage doors she could hear the sound of magic; something was attacking the train- and for a second glad she was she wasn't in one of the compartments. Ginny wasted no time and launched herself desperately off the floor. The aisle was suddenly getting very hot despite still being black as pitch- the air getting perilously thin. The end of the carriage was in sight- if she could just get outside- back to where she'd come from- if she could just get back to the prefects carriage and find the Order to send help to Neville- and Harry and-

As Ginny touched the metal of the door handle to carriage IV a series of things happened. Firstly she screamed- a reaction to the second degree burns that blossomed instantly across her palms as she grasped at the door. This was a scream that was heard not only by Harry Potter as three carriages down he shattered the window of his compartment, but by every member of the Order of the Phoenix, every student not yet evacuated to Hogwarts, every shadowy figure that circled the train in wait. It was a signal. A symbol. It was not ignored.

Ginny crumpled in the darkness, clutching at her hand with a guttural moan of pain. Around her she could hear the rush of her pursuer's skin as it slid along the floor towards her.

Help me. She mouthed the words, digging her head back in to the floor as if in hope it would swallow her completely. Help me. Hot tears crashed down hot cheeks. Help me please.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as the something cool whispered over her cheek. It tickled. She let out a choked, tearful laugh. I am going to die. Then she opened her eyes.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The light that burst forward from Harry's wand was, despite being perfectly opaque and milky in colour, entirely without shape or form. It slammed into the darkness not as an animal, but as a roiling haze of light. No legs. No face. No eyes. It did the job however, the creature screaming as it fled upwards into the sky. There were probably more of them, but Harry didn't let his thoughts linger too much on the what ifs of this horrible situation, and wasting no time the boy leapt through the open window and out on to the rail tracks below.

He landed in a crouch on gravel that stuck to his curdled bloody hand. Hissing, Harry winced as he tried to wipe the little stones off on to his trousers.

Then he heard Ginny's scream.

It wasn't far away, so he took off at a run- his patronus circling him happily, illuminating the dark shadows that clung to the edges of his vision. The train was surrounded by Dementors. Harry blanched as the white light caught the ivory of a mask somewhere in the distance.

Shit. Shit. Shit. So the Deatheaters were definitely here then.

Harry began to slow, the light of his patronus dimming slightly. Where had Ginny's scream come from? It had been close… was it here? Beside him the fading light danced across the brass letters III. This was carriage III. It was dark inside and Harry ghosted a hand over the door. Hot too.

Fuck it.


The doorframe exploded outwards and Harry braced his arms around his face as shards of glass and magic rained down over his head. Perhaps he'd put a little too much force into the spell. Almost the whole end of the carriage was now missing along with three of the back wheels, leaving the whole thing to teeter threateningly to one side. Harry jumped up into the aisle- his little light bounding behind him like a faithful dog, and brandished his wand in front of him.

Where was everybody?


Was this even real? Or was he still passed out on the floor of his cabin?


Something struck the side of the carriage from outside- a turquoise light that filtered down through the hole Harry had created. Without warning, the train car tipped and tumbled down the steep bank below the rail tracks. It wasn't far, twenty feet at most, but the carriage landed on its roof and Harry lay once again unmoving- crumpled on the floor.

He opened his eyes slowly- his ears were ringing something awful. A hazy white light obscured his vision and Harry realised then that apart from a few bumps and scrapes he was mostly unharmed- his patronus had wrapped itself around his upper body, protecting him from what would probably have been grievous injury if not death. Harry breathed in- exhaling a cloud of frozen air mixed with patronus.

He licked his lips. It tasted like fire. Like sunshine.

That made no sense, maybe he'd hit his head harder than he'd initially thought. Slowly his vision began to clear as his patronus fizzled out to nothing; he was very lucky that he'd managed to survive the fall. He felt a chill though as he wondered if Ginny had been in this carriage as well.

Fuck he hoped not.

However, minutes passed, and even as Harry picked through the wreckage and became sure that Ginny wasn't there- the chill didn't fade. In fact it grew stronger-

Dementors. Again. Damn it all to-


Harry ducked away from the light that flew at him from the bottom of the aisle- only just missing the rancid yellow light of "Morsus! Sempiternus Vulnero!".

At the end of the capsized corridor a robed figure marched towards him, glass lights snapping and sparking sprays of white beneath his boots. Harry blanched and staggered slowly to his feet, groping for his wand that had been lost amongst the wreckage. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The deatheater was much closer now, and Harry felt his fingers brush his wand underneath the rubble. "Stupefy!" He yelled, but the sharp red light was absorbed by some sort of shield. The figure continued it's approach and Harry rattled off curses as fast as he could. "Impedimenta! Reducto! Trunco Mancus!"

Finally a curse met it's mark, and the deatheater stumbled- crashing forward to the floor with their wand raised lopsidedly in one last attack. Harry's eyes widened as their shadowed lips breathed out-

Avada Kedavra.

The boy watched as the green wall washed towards him in a tidal wave of colour. Frozen, Harry found himself unable to shake off the hold of the dementors spell that fixed him to the floor- His uncle's eyes. The headlights of the oncoming car. His fathers footsteps-

Harry smacked his hands together and slammed them to the floor- a raw, desperate instinct that gave way to horror as he realised it was a hestiation that had just cost him his life. Bracing himself for the inevitable impact, Harry's muscles were curled and quaking, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Why hadn't he run?

Oh God- I'm going to d-

Death barrelled into Harry. The curse hitting him squarely in the side in a way that stole the breath immediately from his lungs, leaving a weight that settled firmly on his chest and-

"What the hell Potter?"

Harry unscrunched his eyes blearily, "Malfoy?" His words were blurred and weary, and his vision spun like a carousel. Above him a shock of white blonde hair swam into view, and behind that Harry could see a large hole in the carriage wall. "... what...?"

God his head ached, he must've have reopened his cut on the way down.

"What're you playing at Potter? Someone fires the killing curse at you and you decide to play patty-cake with the floor-" Malfoy gave Harry a fierce shove and pulled himself off the boy's chest- mumbling under his breath the words: "Fucking mudblood moron."

Harry coughed, a little lost for words. "I-"

"Don't interrupt me Potter. I just jeopardised my life for you- and if it weren't for me you would've died."

What did the slimy git want, a medal? Harry snarled- heckles rising. "Why do you even care?"

"I don't."

"But you saved my life-"

"-Yes, and now you owe me, Potter. One life debt." The boy said slowly- as if savouring the sound- punctuating each word with a smug smirk. Well, shit. Of course Malfoy would never do anything unless it benefited him in some way or another. Naturally he'd have an alterior motive. Fucking Slytherin. "- and believe me, I will be calling it in."

Harry fumed silently from the floor as the blonde marched right passed him, making no effort to help up the bleeding boy.

"...Oh, and Potter-" Malfoy's voice floated up the carriage "-if you ever make me do something like this again..." the voice wavered as if considering something "...I wont."

Harry watched as the blond climbed out of gaping hole at the end of the carriage. Somewhere above him, Harry could hear a battle raging, the sounds of war filtering down from the train tracks. The Order had clearly arrived by now, and it seemed that the enemy was making itself known. Hopefully it would all be over soon.

Harry hurt all over, but the Dementors chill was starting to fade. Harry could only hope that it was because they were fleeing- not because they'd found somewhere to feed. Picking himself off the floor for what must have been the hundredth time that night, Harry leant against the carriage wall. Damn it he needed to learn some healing spells- he was useless like this. Even if Ginny wasn't in carriage III, she had to be somewhere and Harry was in no fit state to be helping himself let alone her or anybody else. Shit.

For the third time Harry saw a silhouette marked out at the end of the carriage.

"Harry!" A voice cried. A feminine voice. Young, familiar-

"Tonks?" He said- his voice coming out in some horrible, god-awful croak.

"Shit!" The woman raced over, "Oh- shit, what happened to you Haz'?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but his words came out as a dizzy groan. The warm wet clot at the back of his head had reopened and was oozing out a pleasant line of red that slowly inched between his shoulder blades.

"Shh- okay, don't talk now just- look- come on, take this-" she pushed something into his hands, small, angular- a remembral? "It's a portkey. It's going to take you to Hogwarts."


There was a definite pause before Tonks spoke again. "…She'll be okay Harry. You need to go now."

Harry didn't have time to protest before the familiar pull tugged behind his navel. It almost felt like he was falling again. There were lights behind his eyelids now. Pretty rings that spun.

Like fireworks.

When Harry finally landed outside the gates of Hogwarts, vision doubled and head spinning, he threw up in a bush. Harry would recall fondly the next day, the way somebody had put their hands on his back as he heaved. After that, he had collapsed contentedly.

The search for Ginny Weasley continued long into the night.

Hmm, Eddy's going a bit kerr-azy. I did promise you guys a bit of action. Was the wait worth it? Or are you still peeved at the disappearance of the ever-elusive plot bunny, of which we've seen neither hide nor hair (though you might have caught a fleeting glimpse or two). I promise that the next chapter will have ubermegasuperspecial awesome uhh plot... uh... hints, plot hints. Only 'hints' though. Sorry guys. :( (I mean, seriously, its only been 6 chapters, did you think I'd give it away so easily?)

Also, if you need any britishisms explained, I'll be happy to PM you ^^, just realised I used a few obscure ones here.

On a more pressing note, I need to know how long you're willing to wait until we get the ('last five years-esque', for those of you who read the old body snatcher) chapters that tell us whats been happening in Amestris-land. Should I leave it until later (at perhaps a more suitable point in the storyline) and give it to you in a big chunk, or should I start adding it in sooner and spread it out?
Couple of things pointed out in reviews:
1. As for Luna knowing Hoenheim, you're right, that would be too convenient. As it stands, she's never met the guy. Though sometimes I don't think she pays much attention to the things that come out of her mouth. (But with Luna, you never can tell).
2. Ron and Hermione's reaction to Harry (or rather, the lack of it), there will be a reaction when the dozy twits actually notice the changes. They haven't even seen Harry stand up yet though, that'll be interesting.
3. Harry's hair... is almost/not quite as long as Ed's? That's how I imagine it, will include some description at some point.
4. Uhhh, okay, I thought it was kind of clear from the 'RoyEd' marker in the summary, but apparently there are people who received a nasty shock when they realised that this fanfiction will have an eventual M/M pairing. That's right. Eventual, and certainly not explicit. But this story is slash. I repeat: THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SOFT SLASH. The RoyEd will not be for a long time yet, but these things NEED FORSHADOWING, which means that at some point beforehand the theme of homosexuality will have to be weaved into the story in such a way that it becomes PLOT RELEVANT. I'm not going to give this story a 'gay gloss of paint', I want it to be realistic, and Eddy Hadward is going to have a bloody hard time figuring the whole thing out anyway. Seriously, when have I ever cut the boy some slack? This is the last I'm going to say on this topic until we actually get to it, so consider yourself warned!

Anywho... sorry for the long A/N, let me know your thoughts and theories about whats going on too guys, I love to hear them!

Next chapter may take a little while as taking BA Japanese is harrrrrd :( But don't worry, I haven't forgotten this story. I've planned WAY too far ahead to give up ;)

Thanks for all your support, your reviews always brighten my day :)