[FMA/HP] "Endless Moment" 05/??
Title: Endless Moment (05/??)
Rating: PG13
Archived @ Master List
Summary: [Sequel to 'Mr. Elric'] It's obvious now that the community of Hogwarts wants a piece of Mr Elric, be it knowledge or attention. Ed's privacy is further invaded when forces beyond his control insist on contact with The Boy Who Lived.
Chapter 05: Pensieve
"What is that?"
"What does it look like?"
"A bowl."
"It will remain a bowl only if you do not use it. This, Edward," said Dumbledore, "is a pensieve."
"Why would I need a pensieve?"
"You came to me a few days ago about your problems concerning memory loss. Do you not remember?" Ed raised a brow- he had no such recollection. "As I thought. I believe your mind is subconsciously filtering your thoughts. The wisdom and learning you obtain through books are stored, but the less important details of your life, what you had for breakfast for example, are not. It is my theory that over time, your memories from your distant past, your homeland for example, will also be affected. One day, you could become the embodiment of knowledge and know all there is to know but having no idea what your purpose is."
A moment of silence. "But I can't use a pensieve," said Ed. "I have no wand."
"I know," said Dumbledore. "I will operate it for you, you need only to learn how to enter and how to leave." He continued, "I merely thought it was best to store your memories while they are still intact and before they begin to decay. Whether you wish to use it or not is your decision." Ed was silent only long enough to instill a feeling of hesitation but his eventual answer was yes.
A memory extraction is the oddest feeling in the world. There's the slight tap of wood on your forehead, then a cool film gathers at the point of the tap and when the wand pulls away, the material is released and it breaks out but never breaks the skin. He managed to catch a fleeting glance at the extraction, an airy, silvery wisp of hair-like substance that liquefied the moment it hit the bowl. By the time Dumbledore was done, the bottom of the previously empty stone bowl was covered with a metallic formula like melted steel that swirled endlessly.
"Shall we?"
---
Suddenly, Ed was back in Rizenbul on the night he and Al burned down their house and eerily enough, there was his little eleven-year-old self far off in the distance beyond the hill. A chill ran down his spine. He blinked, and he was back onboard the train - a phantom spectator to his fight with Bard. Again, and he was passed out, drunk, on the night they liberated Youswell.
"These," said a voice in his ear startling him, "are only memories. We cannot hope to change them, we can only learn from them."
He and Al were on the floor of Hohenheim's study talking excitedly about the plans they were making when their mother came back. He was playing in the snow with Nina and Alexander. He was ushered into the room at the Fifth Laboratory full of Red Stones as Tucker loomed nearby. That first time (of many times) sensei had slammed him into a tree. That time he murdered Sloth. So many memories, he was practically reliving his life. He wanted to stay in this fake universe, this stone pensieve, forever. It'd be like watching a film, one that covered every detail of the seventeen years he spent in Amestris. It'd be like he was home again...
A hand clamped down on his should and he was suddenly yanked back with enough force to land him on the back of his skull but when his mind stilled, his face was mere centimeters away from the bowl. He was still in Dumbledore's office and the images in the pensieve that had entranced him so faded back into the light silvery liquid.
"That's quite enough for today, Edward." said Dumbledore. And before he could protest, " If I had left you to your own devices, you'd still be in that pensieve, wouldn't you, Edward? I know you want to go back but remember that time in this place passes as it always does. You've been in that pensieve for quite a while now and it really isn't healthy for your body to go without food for more than five hours, don't you agree?"
"Yes sir."
"To leave the pensieve, all you need to is point up and say "Out". There's a much more efficient method, but for now, it'll do. Just remember that to leave the pensieve, you must want to, otherwise, you'll forever be in need of another's assistance to pull you back from the pensieve."
Ed nodded. "I understand."
"Very well then, Edward." Said Dumbledore, almost briskly, "You can come here anytime to see your pensieve- they're your memories after all. The password is 'toffee humbugs' and you'll be notified if it should change."
"Yes sir." Ed headed toward the entrance, fully intent on leaving before stopping. "And sir?"
"Yes, Edward?"
"Thank you very much, sir."
---
"You said he had a metal arm?!"
"Keep it down, Harry!" Ron hissed, looking around in alarm. Luckily, the common room was packed and most everyone was absorbed in their own conversation and chattering.
"You said his arm was metal?" Harry asked again, lowering his voice significantly.
"That's right," replied Ron, throwing his friend a look. "Why should it matter?"
"Oh, come now," said Harry rather snappishly. "Who else in the world do we know of that has a fake arm?"
"Who?"
"WORMTAIL!" He shouted loudly as he could without arousing unwanted attention.
"Wormtail?" asked Hermione, a look of surprise dawning on her face. "Wormtail has an metal arm?"
And it was at that moment that Harry Potter realized that keeping everything that happened on That Night a secret from his friends wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had. "On the night Volde- He came back, he needed the 'flesh of a faithful servant' or something. Wormtail sliced off his arm and when He was resurrected, he gave Wormtail a new arm. A silver one."
Ron paled, as did Hermione. "You think," Ron said slowly, "that Mr. Elric is-"
"Before the two of you get too far ahead of yourselves, I beg you both to remember who runs this schools and who hires the teachers." Hermione interrupted. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow Wormtail at this school under any possible circumstance, you know that." Color was returning to her cheeks. "Also," said she, "are you certain that Wormtail had a metal arm like Ron said?"
Harry and Ron stopped at the unwelcome dose of logic and reason. He had to admit that even if his eyes were hazy and if Ron needed glasses, it would be a long shot to call Wormtail's silver arm a metal one. After a moment's pause, Harry stood from the squishy leather armchair and headed for the portrait hole. "Where are you going?"
"The library," he said. "I need to do that paper on How to Theoretically Counter Higher Leveled Jinxes and Curses for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Don't worry, Hermione," he added, "Professor Edinburgh gave me a pass, and I’m allowed out of bed until about two in the morning."
"A pass out of bed for an extra three hours?" she asked incredulously.
"Right. I guess he really wants me to finish this thing. I'll be back."
"Y'know," Ron said after Harry had left, "If you look past the fact that Edinburgh’s an old, moldy ("Ron!"), and boring, he's not that bad of a guy. Letting Harry Potter out after bed's practically encouraging mischief, see?"
---
As Harry had dreaded, there was a light in the library. He wasn't afraid of Madame Pince doubting the validity of the note, he was just afraid of Madame Pince. There was no way she would allow him alone with her precious books (especially since she had decided that the bit of porn that knocked her into a six-month vacation was set there by the sixth years). So the next few hours would probably be spent in awkward silence as he trudged from bookshelf to bookshelf, her hawk-like beady eyes following his every movement, sending cold chills down his spine. And he'd never get any work done.
Surprisingly enough, she wasn't sitting at the front desk or anywhere near the vicinity of the light. And because we all know what curiosity did to the cat, Harry followed the direction of the light and found himself facing the back of a sleeping Mr. Elric.
Ron was right. Up close, he did look exceptionally like a woman.
T . B . C
Rating: PG13
Archived @ Master List
Summary: [Sequel to 'Mr. Elric'] It's obvious now that the community of Hogwarts wants a piece of Mr Elric, be it knowledge or attention. Ed's privacy is further invaded when forces beyond his control insist on contact with The Boy Who Lived.
Chapter 05: Pensieve
"What is that?"
"What does it look like?"
"A bowl."
"It will remain a bowl only if you do not use it. This, Edward," said Dumbledore, "is a pensieve."
"Why would I need a pensieve?"
"You came to me a few days ago about your problems concerning memory loss. Do you not remember?" Ed raised a brow- he had no such recollection. "As I thought. I believe your mind is subconsciously filtering your thoughts. The wisdom and learning you obtain through books are stored, but the less important details of your life, what you had for breakfast for example, are not. It is my theory that over time, your memories from your distant past, your homeland for example, will also be affected. One day, you could become the embodiment of knowledge and know all there is to know but having no idea what your purpose is."
A moment of silence. "But I can't use a pensieve," said Ed. "I have no wand."
"I know," said Dumbledore. "I will operate it for you, you need only to learn how to enter and how to leave." He continued, "I merely thought it was best to store your memories while they are still intact and before they begin to decay. Whether you wish to use it or not is your decision." Ed was silent only long enough to instill a feeling of hesitation but his eventual answer was yes.
A memory extraction is the oddest feeling in the world. There's the slight tap of wood on your forehead, then a cool film gathers at the point of the tap and when the wand pulls away, the material is released and it breaks out but never breaks the skin. He managed to catch a fleeting glance at the extraction, an airy, silvery wisp of hair-like substance that liquefied the moment it hit the bowl. By the time Dumbledore was done, the bottom of the previously empty stone bowl was covered with a metallic formula like melted steel that swirled endlessly.
"Shall we?"
---
Suddenly, Ed was back in Rizenbul on the night he and Al burned down their house and eerily enough, there was his little eleven-year-old self far off in the distance beyond the hill. A chill ran down his spine. He blinked, and he was back onboard the train - a phantom spectator to his fight with Bard. Again, and he was passed out, drunk, on the night they liberated Youswell.
"These," said a voice in his ear startling him, "are only memories. We cannot hope to change them, we can only learn from them."
He and Al were on the floor of Hohenheim's study talking excitedly about the plans they were making when their mother came back. He was playing in the snow with Nina and Alexander. He was ushered into the room at the Fifth Laboratory full of Red Stones as Tucker loomed nearby. That first time (of many times) sensei had slammed him into a tree. That time he murdered Sloth. So many memories, he was practically reliving his life. He wanted to stay in this fake universe, this stone pensieve, forever. It'd be like watching a film, one that covered every detail of the seventeen years he spent in Amestris. It'd be like he was home again...
A hand clamped down on his should and he was suddenly yanked back with enough force to land him on the back of his skull but when his mind stilled, his face was mere centimeters away from the bowl. He was still in Dumbledore's office and the images in the pensieve that had entranced him so faded back into the light silvery liquid.
"That's quite enough for today, Edward." said Dumbledore. And before he could protest, " If I had left you to your own devices, you'd still be in that pensieve, wouldn't you, Edward? I know you want to go back but remember that time in this place passes as it always does. You've been in that pensieve for quite a while now and it really isn't healthy for your body to go without food for more than five hours, don't you agree?"
"Yes sir."
"To leave the pensieve, all you need to is point up and say "Out". There's a much more efficient method, but for now, it'll do. Just remember that to leave the pensieve, you must want to, otherwise, you'll forever be in need of another's assistance to pull you back from the pensieve."
Ed nodded. "I understand."
"Very well then, Edward." Said Dumbledore, almost briskly, "You can come here anytime to see your pensieve- they're your memories after all. The password is 'toffee humbugs' and you'll be notified if it should change."
"Yes sir." Ed headed toward the entrance, fully intent on leaving before stopping. "And sir?"
"Yes, Edward?"
"Thank you very much, sir."
---
"You said he had a metal arm?!"
"Keep it down, Harry!" Ron hissed, looking around in alarm. Luckily, the common room was packed and most everyone was absorbed in their own conversation and chattering.
"You said his arm was metal?" Harry asked again, lowering his voice significantly.
"That's right," replied Ron, throwing his friend a look. "Why should it matter?"
"Oh, come now," said Harry rather snappishly. "Who else in the world do we know of that has a fake arm?"
"Who?"
"WORMTAIL!" He shouted loudly as he could without arousing unwanted attention.
"Wormtail?" asked Hermione, a look of surprise dawning on her face. "Wormtail has an metal arm?"
And it was at that moment that Harry Potter realized that keeping everything that happened on That Night a secret from his friends wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had. "On the night Volde- He came back, he needed the 'flesh of a faithful servant' or something. Wormtail sliced off his arm and when He was resurrected, he gave Wormtail a new arm. A silver one."
Ron paled, as did Hermione. "You think," Ron said slowly, "that Mr. Elric is-"
"Before the two of you get too far ahead of yourselves, I beg you both to remember who runs this schools and who hires the teachers." Hermione interrupted. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow Wormtail at this school under any possible circumstance, you know that." Color was returning to her cheeks. "Also," said she, "are you certain that Wormtail had a metal arm like Ron said?"
Harry and Ron stopped at the unwelcome dose of logic and reason. He had to admit that even if his eyes were hazy and if Ron needed glasses, it would be a long shot to call Wormtail's silver arm a metal one. After a moment's pause, Harry stood from the squishy leather armchair and headed for the portrait hole. "Where are you going?"
"The library," he said. "I need to do that paper on How to Theoretically Counter Higher Leveled Jinxes and Curses for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Don't worry, Hermione," he added, "Professor Edinburgh gave me a pass, and I’m allowed out of bed until about two in the morning."
"A pass out of bed for an extra three hours?" she asked incredulously.
"Right. I guess he really wants me to finish this thing. I'll be back."
"Y'know," Ron said after Harry had left, "If you look past the fact that Edinburgh’s an old, moldy ("Ron!"), and boring, he's not that bad of a guy. Letting Harry Potter out after bed's practically encouraging mischief, see?"
---
As Harry had dreaded, there was a light in the library. He wasn't afraid of Madame Pince doubting the validity of the note, he was just afraid of Madame Pince. There was no way she would allow him alone with her precious books (especially since she had decided that the bit of porn that knocked her into a six-month vacation was set there by the sixth years). So the next few hours would probably be spent in awkward silence as he trudged from bookshelf to bookshelf, her hawk-like beady eyes following his every movement, sending cold chills down his spine. And he'd never get any work done.
Surprisingly enough, she wasn't sitting at the front desk or anywhere near the vicinity of the light. And because we all know what curiosity did to the cat, Harry followed the direction of the light and found himself facing the back of a sleeping Mr. Elric.
Ron was right. Up close, he did look exceptionally like a woman.
T . B . C