FMA/HP ficlet
Aug. 21st, 2008 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stellawindAuthor: Stella Wind
Title: Graveside Conversation
Fandoms: HP and Fullmetal Alchemist
Spoilers: Harry Potter and Half Blood Prince, end of the anime for FMA
Rating: PG
Summary: At a funeral, Hermione has an interesting conversation and offer.
One of the final wizards to pay his respects to Albus Dumbledore was a short, old man, long braid swinging at his back. His head was bent down to the white tomb, and his eyes shadowed and hidden. He lips moved, but Hermione didn't catch the words, the wind whisking them away.
She gave Harry one last squeeze on the shoulder. The crowd was dispersing, only stragglers remaining. Most recognizable of all of them were the professors, and Gwarp, Hagrid's brother, trying in vain to comfort the half-giant as he cried puddles of tears.
With trepidation, she looked at the old man, still beside the shining white tomb. He looked like he would not move until nightfall.
Slowly, she walked to the tomb, and conjured up a lily, to place with the other tokens, at the foot of the tomb.
"He would have preferred a sunflower," the man rumbled, with a faint German accent.
Hermione turned to look at him, and the flower fell to the pile.
"A purple one, with orange somewhere, too. I sometimes thought Albus was colorblind." The man sighed and seemed to ruminate.
"Oh." Hermione did not know what else to say. It did seem like something Dumbledore would have liked. She conjured a second flower out of the air, an orange sunflower, variegated with purple.
The man smiled, and Hermione suddenly saw that his golden eyes had not been a trick of the sun. He patted the tomb, one last time, and began to walk away.
"Did you know him well?" The question burst out, before she could stop it. It was an almost accusatory tone, and she blushed.
The man stopped, and turned to look at her. Oddly, he seemed more amused by her rudeness than offended. "Yes. Very." He limped back over, and leaned on the tomb. "Very. He was an acquaintance of my father, and friend to me. Klaus, Albus, and I met just before the Second War."
"Were you from Germany?" Hermione asked.
"In a way, yes." He then looked at her, and his strange golden eyes gleamed. "You wouldn't be Hermione Granger, by any chance?"
"I...I--" She felt a sudden spark of suspicion flare in her. As safe as she felt at Hogwarts, the tomb before her proved no one was safe at all. "Why?"
"About five years ago, you were one of the clever children who helped save Klaus' stone."
"Oh! You mean Nicolas Flamel," Hermione exclaimed, remember that Klaus was one Germanic way of shorting Nicolas.
The man nodded. "So you are her?"
"Yes, but..." Hermione tried to think of a polite way of asking why he wanted to know, but words failed her.
"I was planning to talk to you next year, after you sat the NEWTs.." The man sighed heavily. "With things the way they are, however, now seems to be as good a time as any. Albus mentioned your talent for research to me numerous times. It was not light praise from him. I need an assistant."
"Are you," Hermione couldn't choke out the rest of the words. Being scouted for a position already? It was...
"I can't," she said softly. "Harry is my best friend, and... I just can't."
"Ah," the man breathed. "I'd overlooked that. I understand. They need you." Something deep in his eyes flickered. "My... project... has not worked for decades. A few more years will be nothing. I will contact you again by the time this war is over." He bowed his head, and left the tomb, heading towards the gate.
"Thank you," Hermione called faintly.
Alchemical research? It most likely. Dumbledore and Flamel had that much in common, and this man knew both. Ever since she had read about Flamel, she had wanted to learn more bout alchemy, despite it being on the more obscure and harder branches of magic. And...well, after the war, at least she knew there was something she could do. She was already fearing that she had stepped on too many toes as was; with Scrimgeour as Minister, she wouldn't be finding a job in the government.
"Wait!" she yelled. "I never caught your name."
The man turned, but did not stop walking. His thick braid was swept away by the wind, as he grinned. "Edward Elric," he yelled back.
Title: Graveside Conversation
Fandoms: HP and Fullmetal Alchemist
Spoilers: Harry Potter and Half Blood Prince, end of the anime for FMA
Rating: PG
Summary: At a funeral, Hermione has an interesting conversation and offer.
One of the final wizards to pay his respects to Albus Dumbledore was a short, old man, long braid swinging at his back. His head was bent down to the white tomb, and his eyes shadowed and hidden. He lips moved, but Hermione didn't catch the words, the wind whisking them away.
She gave Harry one last squeeze on the shoulder. The crowd was dispersing, only stragglers remaining. Most recognizable of all of them were the professors, and Gwarp, Hagrid's brother, trying in vain to comfort the half-giant as he cried puddles of tears.
With trepidation, she looked at the old man, still beside the shining white tomb. He looked like he would not move until nightfall.
Slowly, she walked to the tomb, and conjured up a lily, to place with the other tokens, at the foot of the tomb.
"He would have preferred a sunflower," the man rumbled, with a faint German accent.
Hermione turned to look at him, and the flower fell to the pile.
"A purple one, with orange somewhere, too. I sometimes thought Albus was colorblind." The man sighed and seemed to ruminate.
"Oh." Hermione did not know what else to say. It did seem like something Dumbledore would have liked. She conjured a second flower out of the air, an orange sunflower, variegated with purple.
The man smiled, and Hermione suddenly saw that his golden eyes had not been a trick of the sun. He patted the tomb, one last time, and began to walk away.
"Did you know him well?" The question burst out, before she could stop it. It was an almost accusatory tone, and she blushed.
The man stopped, and turned to look at her. Oddly, he seemed more amused by her rudeness than offended. "Yes. Very." He limped back over, and leaned on the tomb. "Very. He was an acquaintance of my father, and friend to me. Klaus, Albus, and I met just before the Second War."
"Were you from Germany?" Hermione asked.
"In a way, yes." He then looked at her, and his strange golden eyes gleamed. "You wouldn't be Hermione Granger, by any chance?"
"I...I--" She felt a sudden spark of suspicion flare in her. As safe as she felt at Hogwarts, the tomb before her proved no one was safe at all. "Why?"
"About five years ago, you were one of the clever children who helped save Klaus' stone."
"Oh! You mean Nicolas Flamel," Hermione exclaimed, remember that Klaus was one Germanic way of shorting Nicolas.
The man nodded. "So you are her?"
"Yes, but..." Hermione tried to think of a polite way of asking why he wanted to know, but words failed her.
"I was planning to talk to you next year, after you sat the NEWTs.." The man sighed heavily. "With things the way they are, however, now seems to be as good a time as any. Albus mentioned your talent for research to me numerous times. It was not light praise from him. I need an assistant."
"Are you," Hermione couldn't choke out the rest of the words. Being scouted for a position already? It was...
"I can't," she said softly. "Harry is my best friend, and... I just can't."
"Ah," the man breathed. "I'd overlooked that. I understand. They need you." Something deep in his eyes flickered. "My... project... has not worked for decades. A few more years will be nothing. I will contact you again by the time this war is over." He bowed his head, and left the tomb, heading towards the gate.
"Thank you," Hermione called faintly.
Alchemical research? It most likely. Dumbledore and Flamel had that much in common, and this man knew both. Ever since she had read about Flamel, she had wanted to learn more bout alchemy, despite it being on the more obscure and harder branches of magic. And...well, after the war, at least she knew there was something she could do. She was already fearing that she had stepped on too many toes as was; with Scrimgeour as Minister, she wouldn't be finding a job in the government.
"Wait!" she yelled. "I never caught your name."
The man turned, but did not stop walking. His thick braid was swept away by the wind, as he grinned. "Edward Elric," he yelled back.