Fanfic #162 Soul - Ten Grams by SwampSpirit(FullmetalAlchemistXHarryPotter)

This fanfic is a crossover between Fullmetal Alchemist and Harry Potter following Alphonse Elric in the world of Harry Potter. I really like this fic because it focuses on a character I've never seen get focused on and it has a lot of really great world building. I also like that it focuses on second year students so that the story isn't focused on the golden trio, but it still changes canon.

Synopsis: An attempt to raise a child from the dead instead summons a different boy entirely. Alphonse Elric was supposed to lose his body to the gate. Instead, the night he tries to raise his mother from the dead, he wakes up somewhere else entirely. His body should be gone, soul bound into armor. He remembers how it's supposed to go. Now he's alone in a world where nothing makes sense, where magic turns flowers to butterflies and pictures can speak. A world where a lot of people would love to get their hands on a boy summoned by resurrection with secrets from another world. And, with the wizarding world gearing up for war, his death might ruin two worlds.

Rated: T

words: 55k

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30988208/chapters/76539425

Here's the first chapter:

He'd been pressing his hands down, scared, but excited. His family would be whole. And then…

Everything. A white expanse. The screams of a universe unfolding, metal nerves burning into his brother's arm. Xerxes fell, Ishvall burned, Amestris lit up with red light, his mother fell to the floor, a basket hit the floor, an eye opened beyond the gate.

And then there was a floor, cold and real and simple.

He was… he was Al Elric. He'd been about to bring back his mother. And now he was on a cold floor and somebody was shaking him. But he couldn't understand what they were saying. Their hands were too large to be Ed's. To be anyone he knew, really. Winry, Pinako…

"Dad?" the word was clumsy on his tongue.

There was a familiar gentleness, but whatever the man was saying rolled over him in waves.

Focus. The pounding of his heart was so loud, but of course it was, all these years without one. No. No he'd always had a heart. There it was, beating steadily. His fingers buzzed with electric life.

Smooth stone under him, strong arms wrapped around him, a smell like preserved dead things.

And the words....

They weren't Amestrian.

The man was weeping, babbling in some strange language, but Al could make out one thing. He was calling a name over and over. Micah.

It was too much, too much noise, too much confusion. He was still… it didn't make sense. He felt wrong, like he'd been hollowed out. He wanted his brother. He wanted Mom. He wanted the stranger to stop crying on him.

"Please, I don't know where I am. If you don't let go of me-"

He would fight, but his body felt wrong, like freshly grown skin under a ripped off bandage. Even moving a finger took effort, and the stranger just smoothed back his hair and wept.

And then there was a bang as somebody kicked in the door.

In all of recorded history, there had never been a successful attempt to raise the dead. The stories of those who had tried were filled with gore and madness, but people still chased them, stole the notes, hoping maybe they would be the one to finally get it right.

It's why the ministry kept an eye on the popular ingredients.

Cupris Baldmore was first flagged when he purchased five phoenix feathers.It wasn't an odd purchase, but the Misuse of Magic Department kept an eye on him for two reasons.

First, the purchase didn't match his history. Baldmore had been fired from a nursing job at St. Mungos a year ago and had been supporting himself selling simple potions he could make from cheap ingredients. Phoenix feathers were expensive, usually only bought by high quality wandmakers. When potion makers did shell out for them, they tended to buy one and use it to stir.

Second, Baldmore's nine year old son had died three months ago. It was one of those simple, sad cases, not even magical. He'd just fallen out of a tree.

So they'd been watching. There was no reason to bother a grieving man on conjecture. Perhaps he was expanding his business and needed some backup stirring feathers in case of damage.

Today, he'd bought a thestral heart. They wouldn't have known if they weren't watching him. It wasn't a legal purchase. Getting access to a thestral heart legally required years of research, specifically because their most popular use was in attempted necromancy.

Which was why Kingsley was out here at two in the morning in the freezing rain with Marianna Rush, their resurrection and undead specialist.

"What should I go in expecting?"

"Best case scenario? A grieving man with a bunch of ingredients and no results. Either an unstarted ritual or what we call an inactive ritual, meaning the magic didn't take. If he's mid-ritual, I'll take charge on safety disrupting it. We should be able to drain the magic into this."

She held up a black sphere.

"And if the magic did take?"

"Anything. We don't know what we're working with. An unwillingly summoned ghost, an inferni, a pile of gore. We should go in ready for a fight, from Baldmore or whatever he brought back. People this desperate will fight to protect whatever they summoned, even if it's clearly not their loved one."

They felt it in the air as they approached the house. Most wizards had a feel for magic, even if they didn't register it consciously, but Kingsley had learned to feel when it was wrong.

He didn't need to speak to tell that Rush felt it too. They looked at each other and Kingsley blasted down the door.

The house was a mess, but Kingsley just followed the smell of chemical burning down the stairs.

Baldmore was on the floor of his lab. His eyes were wild, and he was turned protectively to hide something. He held a wand in his shaking hand.

"Don't come any closer!" he shouted. "I have my Micah back! I won't let you take him."

There was a child in his arms, Kingsley realized, or at least something child shaped, but it didn't look anything like the picture of Micah Baldmore. Micah had been a stringy boy with dark brown hair. Kingsley could see a soft cheek and straw blond hair.

What was he holding? Was there a chance his attempt to bring back his son had instead summoned a stranger's? Hell, was the 'child' moving?

For now, he had to move like it could be anything from a frightened child to a dark creature. Either way, he needed to get Baldmore away from it.

"Cupris, we won't hurt him, but we need to let a healer look at him," he said, holding his hands up to show he didn't have a wand. (though it was up his loose sleeve and easy to draw)

"Please, just leave us alone!"

"We just want to make sure the boy is cared for," Rush said gently. "I'm Marianne."

"I didn't do anything wrong! He was too young, but he's back! My little boy!"

Baldmore smiled down at the thing in his arms, tenderly smoothing back it's hair.

"We're so happy for you," Rush said gently, smiling at the man. "Nobody here would hurt a child. We just want to make sure he's alright."

"He's fine! He's-"

"Stupify," Kingsley said, and Rush gave him a grateful look as Baldmore slumped over, grip on the boy loosening.

It was a boy, or at least looked like one. He looked about the right age, features soft and round. He also looked absolutely terrified.

"Rush?" Kingsley asked. This didn't look like a corpse or a ghost.

"I don't know. Are you… Micah?" She pointed at the boy who looked confused. "Micah?"

The boy shook his head, but, when he responded, it clearly wasn't English. His voice was quiet and nervous. It was almost a bit slurred, almost like he was drugged. His movements were odd too. He rolled the rest of the way out of Baldmore's arms, and Kingsley was surprised that rather than trying to run, he seemed to be trying to get into a fighting position.

"Kingsley, can you tell what he's speaking?"

"It doesn't sound like any language I recognize. Should I stun him? I can't say I want to stun a child."

"Stun him now, and we can check he actually is a child."

Kingsley nodded and the boy crumpled.

"This shouldn't have summoned anything," Rush said, surveying the room. "It's not the worst attempt at a resurrection I've ever seen, but there's a lot of basic mistakes. I'm amazed it didn't just explode."

While Kingsley checked over Baldmore and wrapped the boy in his cloak, Rush took a few photos of the scene and bagged the key ingredients.

"You finish up here," Kingsley told Rush. "I'm going to side-along these two before they wake up."

A few minutes and one apparition later, he'd handed off Baldmore to the authorities, and a healer was looking over the boy in a holding room. Rush arrived soon after, running some tests of her own.

"Well, he seems like a normal, living boy," the healer said.

"She's right," Rush added. "There's no sign that he's anything other than a regular young man. My best guess is accidental teleportation. Baldmore certainly wasn't skilled enough to have stumbled upon the first successful necromancy."

"Well, I suppose our priority is alerting his family. They must be quite frightened. What are the chances this boy is a muggle?"

"Shit. I hadn't even considered," Rush said. "I've already got somebody from International Relations on the way. Should I call in somebody from Muggle Relations?"

"Better not to. We should keep this as quiet as possible. You know Mysteries would love to get involved. What did you tell International?"

"Just that we've got a missing child of unknown origins."

"Good. Best not to mention Baldmore to them until we've made sure the boy is situated."

It was going to be a very long night.