Chapter 3

Edward was growing impatient. 0900 hours exactly. The point had been stressed to him to the point at which he felt as though it had left a physical mark on his brain. First Mustang had made the initial claim of the timing he would need to plan his morning around, and – as much as the two butted heads – that was fair. Al's insistence that he needed to remind him every few seconds the night before and the notes left for him to see as he bustled around the barracks were an entirely different matter, however.

He pulled the pocket watch roughly from his pocket with a sharp tug on the chain. Singlehandedly, he flipped it open, scrutinised the analogue clock face for little more than an instant, and then shoved the heavy, silver pendulum back into his pocket in the same nature in which he had drawn it. The hands of the clock were just ticking forwards, slowly, edging their way towards quarter past. He couldn't hear the ticking over the noise of the large crowd that surrounded him from all directions �� these were the times had made him long to be back in his tiny little home town, back in Resembool – and the clicks and groans of his two automail limbs.

Even so, he could assign no blame to the military personnel who had supplied him with that time – they were right, after all, that was when the train carrying this man (Hagrid, was it?) had been due to arrive. He could not accuse his colleagues when the issue that occurred at that moment was merely the case of a poor train driver.

Finally, the loud noise of a steam train coming to a halt filled his ears. The puff of steam and the honk that indicated that passengers were departing and boarding, should the clacking of train tracks and the grinding of the engine not be enough to do so, was accompanied soon by the sound of the feet of busy passengers rushing to the exit of the station. A pair of large feet, many times bigger than that of a normal person, with the addition of a pair of feet – akin in size to his own – wearing old trainers, a fashion very unpopular in Amestris.

"Well," A gruff voice began from well above his head "Yer mus' be Ed." He nodded his affirmation – horrifically reminded of Major Armstrong by the hulking figure – "I'm Hagrid an' this is Harry."

The gargantuan man grinned at the two boys – both short for their age – as they examined each other inquisitively. Emerald eyes stared at gold – both pairs too old to ever truly belong in the faces of the children that held possession over them. To both the other's choice in clothing was beyond strange. Harry stared at the many black items of clothing worn by the other boy as he stared back at the clothes that made him look like one of the illustrations from the book on the history of Xerxes that he had read many years ago – like a slave.

"Hurry along." The giant said – Ed assumed that this was Hagrid – "We ain't go' all day."

Harry nodded meekly and returned to Hagrid's side, not supplying Edward with a single word, of greeting or otherwise, as Edward himself forced himself to answer politely, not knowing how much power the man would have over him "Right away sir." Such a response earned him a rather odd look from both the man on the receiving end of it and the boy who heard it given.

Without a word otherwise they boarded the next train to London – Ed was convinced that the train drivers were teasing him because their late arrival meant that they would have to wait half an hour. There were very few passengers on the train, allowing the trio to fall comfortably into a compartment – completely lacking any and all traces of grace that they may have held previously. Hagrid dominated an entire half of the rather large compartment on his own, leaving the two young wizards to fall on top of each other. It wasn't long before Harry had fallen asleep and Ed was left -wide awake – staring at Hagrid's figure with wide, curious eyes.

"Witchcraft and wizardry?" Ed was surprised to hear the words falling from his own mouth.

"Yes Ed, Witch craf' an' wizardry."

"Explain!" He issued the one word command with the expression and tone that one would expect of the Fullmetal Alchemist after knowing him for all of 5 minutes under ordinary circumstances – snarky and disrespectful.

"Wha's there to explain?" Hagrid's face scrunched up in confusion, his bushy eyebrows lowering and his full beard twitching, no doubt as he moved his mouth to match the expression portrayed on what little was visible of his face.

"A lot." Ed supplied "What do you mean by 'witchcraft and wizardry'? magic is a concept used purely in fiction – children's books and fairy tales – so what could you possibly mean by a school on the topics?"

Hagrid's eyes stared at him with shock clearly displayed on his face – as though he was only just seeing the boy as he was. "The son of Hohenheim don' know a thing?"

Ed scoffed in response. "Clearly, what does the bastard have to do with this nonsense anyway? A little elaboration would be more than welcome right about now."

"Yer father was a wizar' Ed." He intended to continue but was cut off sharply and rudely.

"I'm going to have to correct you. He was an Alchemist and an even bigger bastard than that useless colonel!"

"I'm teliin' yer now, ed, yer father was a wizar' an' yer one too."

"It's impossible!" Edward protested fiercely, trying to convince himself more than Hagrid that the entire idea was utter absurdity. "The world has rules, equivalent exchange – you know, the law of conservation mass? We can neither create nor destroy, we can only alter. It's not magic, it's just alchemy – right?"

Hagrid's face scrunched tighter in further confusion "Alchemy's jus' a dead magic. Yer a wizar', Ed!"

"Alchemy is not magic, the main distinction between the two being that alchemy actually exists!"

"And wha' makes yer say that magic don'?"

"It's completely illogical!" Ed's face was going crimson and his knuckles white as he continued to squeeze his fists tighter.

Hagrid sighed – he was fighting a losing argument – and drew his gaudy, pink umbrella. He pointed it with a flourish to the luggage rack, directly above Ed, and transfigured it – rather simply – into a pile of matchsticks that fell upon his head like rain. He appeared not to notice, he gaped ahead, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes visibly less slanted than they should have been. A wave of regret travelled along his voice as his demeanour changed entirely in a single instant, he uttered only a single word but those four syllables carried with them a lifetime of stories that spoke volumes.

"Impossible." Hagrid was sheathing his umbrella, never taking his eyes off the boy as he awaited his next retort. Yet, he received nothing. The boys head fell into his gloved hands and his torso contracted as he drew in a breath much larger than he should have needed. "There's no equivalence. There's no retribution. It could have all be different. Even if it didn't work maybe we could be saved. If only – if only." He muttered desperately into his palms – repeating the last couple of words as though they were a mantra – maybe the only things binding him to existence.

A hand the size of a bin lid landed on his back gently, soothingly. Ed managed to calm himself, gain his composure. He looked at the sleeping boy whose head rested on his right knee and back at the man who had both torn him to shreds and built him back up again in a matter of minutes. Equivalent or not, what he had done was taboo – he would ever repeat it, it should never have occurred the first time around. He should not consider lesser consequences – he fully believed that he had received exactly what he deserved, though the freaky white bastard had been overly harsh on his little brother. There was a hand on his back, someone cared. He may not have his mother anymore- it had been a long time since he had – but he had someone. The boy lounging on his leg was far more accepting but the circumstances that they found themselves in suggested that they both suffered in similar ways. He was merely a pessimist – deathly afraid of change – who needed to change his outlook. He needed to begin tat that moment. Of course, he may still come across a few bumps in the road along the way.