Ministry
Rolling over in one’s sleep and falling off the bed was not, in any way, a desirable way to wake up. Especially at five in the morning. But Edward Elric was never on the receiving end of desirable outcomes. He woke up, cursing, and rubbing his head, slowly getting to his feet from the cold floor.
Mustang was just staring at him. Seriously, the audacity of that bastard! Ed could swear that he was hiding a smile behind that brooding face of his. “I was going to have to wake you up, but apparently it seems you’ve done that all yourself.” He was already dressed in a coat and a suit, the fedora hanging lopsided on his black bangs. From the way he was leering at him, Ed mused, the sneak must have decided to take his time getting ready before trying to wake him up.
Ed glared at the Flame Alchemist, who smirked back at him.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that we’ll be leaving soon, so you might as well get ready.”
“Leaving soon… oh.” Ed groaned softly as he rubbed his eyes. The Ministry. How could he have forgotten that?
Getting up from bed early just to go somewhere where he didn’t want to go… it reminded Ed very much of a typical Amestrian mission he would be sent on by the military. Most of those missions involved him traversing from one part of the country to another, when he would rather spend time in a vast library, in front of a bookshelf in the alchemy section.
But just like those missions back in Amestris, here in Britain, he had no choice.
“Potter’s coming with us,” Mustang added.
“For that hearing, right?”
“Yes.”
Ed snorted. “Getting put on trial for using magic outside of school… embarrassing, don’t you think?”
Despite a yawn he exerted, and a desire to return to the comfort of his own bed, Ed dressed quickly, wearing a simple grey shirt under his signature black jacket and black pants, and remembered to slip on two white gloves. He didn’t bother tying his hair into a plait as that would take some time, instead leaving it in a ponytail.
Potter was already downstairs, seated at the dining table eating his breakfast, surrounded by several other wizards of the Order and Mrs Weasley, who were all trying to give him words of positive encouragement. When Mrs Weasley saw him, she smiled at Ed and got out her stick (wand, Ed reminded himself, wand), asking him what breakfast he wanted. He settled for bacon and eggs.
As he scarfed down his breakfast (which was, in Ed’s opinion, much better than the hotel meals he had been treated with back in Amestris), he could feel Potter’s eyes on him from behind those black spectacles, while hearing voices of some of the Order members in the background, and Mrs Weasley fussing over Potter and the hearing.
“- coming with us. Mustang and Elric here, they have their own business with the Ministry.” Ed looked up at the mention of his name, and Mr Weasley nodded at him.
Tonks chuckled. “Going to get chummy with Fudge, then?”
So, at least some new information. From what Tonks had said, an encounter with this Fudge character seemed likely.
As they were set to depart, Ed watched as the assembled wizards and witches wished Potter luck, with Mrs Weasley hugging him tight.
It reminded him greatly back home, when he was much younger than now, in the embrace of his mother’s arms, arguing with Alphonse on when the younger’s turn would be. All that had happened ten years ago, Ed frowned and shook the memory out of his mind, as he stared at them with a blank expression next to Mustang and Mr Weasley as they waited for the boy to join the group.
/-/-/-/-/
The British train, which was named the ‘Underground’ (because it embarked on a route underneath the city surface in tunnels), was arguably less comfortable and more cramped than the steam vehicles back home, but definitely much faster and more efficient. The doors moved on their own and there were lights and other sorts of devices that Roy would have believed to have only existed in fiction. Almost everything in the city of London drastically differed from what was back home.
He wondered how such advanced technology could exist while Amestris lagged behind. Probably has something to do with Amestris being a ‘semi-magical’ country or whatever he was told.
A voice that seemed to come out of nowhere kept on announcing the names of the stops, and Roy watched as Fullmetal on the seat on the opposite side of him had his head buried in a map of the Underground he had picked up from before they had boarded the train. Mr Weasley was seated beside him, nervously staring outside the train and the map above the windows, muttering something inaudible to himself.
Roy decided to fixate his focus on the report filings he had been given. Mr Weasley on one side seemed far too interested in his own world as he stared through the train windows while a stranger on the other had his face covered by a newspaper. He fished through his folder and took out the documents he needed the most.
Cornelius Fudge.
Minister of Magic.
A portly little man in a bowler hat stood waving in the picture (oh dear Lord, Roy would never get used to those moving images. How did they even work? Science would never be able to explain such a phenomenon).
His eyes moved towards Fuhrer-President Bradley’s writing underneath the profile: You two are bound to meet this man some time or another. He will organise and explain the diplomatic part of this mission in further detail.
Roy wondered what that would mean. Most likely, just to organise and outline the plan for their stay in Hogwarts.
When they alighted the train in the very heart of London, Roy, as well as Fullmetal, were amazed by the towering buildings, the strange-looking cars that lined up in front of one another, waiting for some red light, and the whole hustle and bustle of the city. He wondered if that was what Central City would look like in a couple of decades, if Amestrian technology would continue advancing.
London was full of a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar city sounds and smells and sights; something that both fascinated and amused Roy as they traversed through the city, past unsuspecting Muggles dressed like and unlike himself. He could almost see Central City in these people, holding rolled-up newspapers and battered briefcases, complaining about the time as they hurried off to work.
Roy assumed, as he followed Mr Weasley and Potter, with Fullmetal next to him, that since the Ministry of Magic was the wizarding community’s form of government, they would be travelling to a special building of some sorts. Maybe one of those buildings that were so tall they seemed to reach into heaven. But then his expectations sank lower as they passed several shops and stores, until they reached, what Fullmetal called under his breath, ‘a rather unimpressive part of London’, with dilapidated and shabby-looking offices, a tiny pub and a skip. There was a red, rundown telephone box that Ed noticed, and he was thankful there was something in London he could actually recognise.
Edward made his disappointment vocal. “What is this?”
“The way to the Ministry of Magic, why would it be anything else?” Mr Weasley beamed at them, expecting them to be pleased. Neither Amestrian complied. Nor did Harry, who was the more puzzled out of the three. The Weasley was surprised by their lack of expression, but nevertheless, walked over to the telephone box and continued, “In here.” He opened the door and nodded at Potter. “Harry, you and I will go in first. Then Mr Mustang and Mr Elric. Understood?
“Now, Harry… after you.” Mr Weasley let Potter inside the telephone box, and while Roy half-expected him to suddenly disappear upon entering, he was still inside, curious, glancing around. “Mr Mustang, have you got a quill?”
“Quill…?” As in, the bird feather writing tool? That had to be outdated in such an advanced place like Britain.
“Or those thingies the Muggles use. They’re called… pens, I think.” The older wizard had sounded out the word as if he were a five-year-old, testing the word in his mouth as he said it out loud for the first time. Wondering what the pen would be used for, Roy nonetheless reached into his pocket and took out a fountain pen.
Mr Weasley seemed amazed by the fountain pen, muttering, “This does seem much more convenient than quills…” He pulled the cap off and reached into his own pocket, getting out a small piece of parchment. Initially, Roy didn’t see what the older man had written, but then Mr Weasley gave both the pen and parchment back to him, he looked down and saw a set of numbers: 62442.
“Thank you, Mr Weasley.”
“Call me Arthur,” the wizard smiled.
“Harry and I will go in first,” he explained. “Once we’ve disappeared and the floor of the box comes back up, you wait for a few seconds then step in and dial the numbers I wrote down on the parchment,” he pointed to the writing in Mustang’s hand. “Tell the Ministry your names and that you’re the two Amestrian alchemists. We’ll wait for the two of you down in the Ministry, since Harry’s hearing won’t be for another hour or so. See you down there.” He winked at the pair of alchemists and entered the telephone box.
Roy watched as Arthur and Harry were squashed together in the telephone box; he winced knowing that would also happen to him and Fullmetal. He saw the former dial the telephone in front of him, pick up the receiver and speak to it, and finally witnessed the two wizards sink into the ground until it seemed like there was no evidence they had been there in the first place.
“I’d rather be spending time exploring non-magical London than going down to the Ministry,” Fullmetal muttered in Amestrian. Roy glared at him.
“Come on, Fullmetal.”
The two alchemists approached the telephone box, Roy opening the door, and he saw that the floor of the telephone box was perfectly intact.
The Flame Alchemist didn’t feel happy with the cramped space of the telephone box, but he was sure he was more comfortable than Fullmetal in front of him (who had entered before). There was silence in the box, except for the sounds of the buttons being pressed down and the breaths from the two alchemists, then a small whirr from the phone dial, then a silent, soundless pause.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic.” A cool female voice spoke from inside of the telephone box, and Fullmetal jumped backwards in shock; Roy swore as he felt his head hitting the door of the telephone box behind him. Cursing, he mumbled out a “Fuck you, Fullmetal”,before regaining his composure (as much as you could in such a cramped space), just as the female voice continued, “Please state your name and business.”
Roy breathed in deeply. “Ah… Roy Mustang and Edward Elric.” He gestured to each of them as he spoke. “We… Amestrian alchemists. From government people. From Amestris. We talk with your Minister.”
A pause, then: “Thank you,” the female voice replied. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”
We’re not even wearing robes, Roy frowned as there were several sounds and Edward in front of him picked up two silver badges, handing one of them to the man behind him. The badge had his name on it that had slid into the metal chute of the phone: Roy Mustang, Meeting with Minister, it said. He pinned it onto his coat.
“Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium,” the female voice told them.
“We don’t even have a magic stick,” Fullmetal groaned in Amestrian, as the floor of the telephone box shuddered and he found the two of them sinking slowly into the ground and they entered darkness.
“It’s probably automated, the woman has to say it,” Mustang replied.
“I didn’t even understand half of the English she used,” the boy complained.
Roy agreed with him, though he didn’t say it out loud.
There was a golden light that met the two, so bright Roy had to cover his eyes.
He opened them after the female voice finally said, “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day.”
The Ministry reminded Roy of a museum, or a palace he had seen in books, with the ornate and polished and shiny decorated floors and walls. Golden symbols moved and morphed into different shapes and sizes. There were plenty of fireplaces on the side, and for some reason, out of the fireplace would emerge a person in wizard robes (which intrigued him, as a handler of the flames himself). There were marble statues of wizards and witches and some creatures Roy had either never heard of before or creatures that only belonged in fairytales and a fountain in the centre. It was definitely more beautiful than the London city up above, he mused.
But they weren’t here to sit and gawk over the Ministry of Magic’s aesthetics, Roy reminded himself. They had a Minister to see and diplomacy to talk about. First, they needed to find Arthur Weasley and Harry Potter, who had promised to wait for them down here.
Only that they were nowhere to be seen.
Roy nudged Edward, who had been fixated on the marble statues. “Have you seen Mr Weasley and Potter?”
“No…? Wait. Did they leave without us? Seriously?” Fullmetal glanced around, biting his lip.
“Mr Weasley! Harry Potter!” Roy called, ignoring the garnering of looks from several witches and wizards who were passers-by. As they walked across the hall, they looked at the two alchemists, staring at their clothing; those who were in duos or groups whispering to themselves. “Where are they? They are not here…”
“Should we just head to the Minister’s office?” Fullmetal asked, the annoyance evident in his voice. “I mean if they didn’t wait for us it’s best to go straight there-”
“They had to attend Potter’s disciplinary hearing,” said a voice behind them. “Sudden change of plans, the Minister was meant to meet with me around now but he had to oversee the hearing as well.” Roy turned around, and saw that the owner of the voice was a middle-aged man with long, white hair, black wizard robes and a calm but sly look on his face.
“My name is Lucius Malfoy,” the man said coolly. “You must be the two alchemists from Amestris the Minister has told me about? Edward Elric and Roy Mustang.”
/-/-/-/-/
Creepy.
Ed’s first impression of the man who called himself Lucius Malfoy was a mixture of intimidating and slightly sinister. This was reinforced with the smug expression painted on the long-white haired wizard’s pale face.
“I’ve heard a lot about you two,” he said, smiling a little. “You work as alchemists for the Amestrian military, yes?” The man probably worked at the Ministry, Ed thought, so maybe it would be helpful to ask the wizard about the whereabouts of Mr Weasley and Potter.
If only he knew enough English to ask the man that without looking like a fool, that was.
“Yes.” Colonel Bastard’s voice broke through the silence between the three. “We are alchemist from Amestris. We are here to see your… magic Minister.”
“Ah!” Ed was sure that had been the least authentic-looking expression he had ever heard in his life, as Lucius Malfoy kept on nodding and smiling at them. “I have a very close relationship with our Minister, Cornelius Fudge,” Malfoy explained. “Unfortunately, he is not available at the moment. He is currently attending a disciplinary hearing at the moment.”
The Fullmetal Alchemist was tempted to exchange a knowing look with Mustang, but he managed to maintain his blank expression. So Potter’s hearing was taking place as of now. However, he was still curious to know what had been Potter’s supposed ‘crime.’ What kind of magic could he have performed for him to garner the attention of the leader of the wizarding world to attend his hearing?
If Malfoy seemed offended by the lack of response from the two, he didn’t let it show on his face. He beamed wider and pat Mustang on the shoulder, nodding at Ed, saying, “You haven’t registered yourselves at the security desk, haven’t you?” The wizard seemed slightly more pleased upon seeing Mustang shake his head, then he proceeded to continue, “You must not know where it is, considering you are new to the wizarding world. I’ll take you there.”
His eyes skimmed from Mustang to Ed, his gaze fixated on their chests. “Badges? Did you get in through the London way? As in, with that Muggle box?”
Ed was very disappointed with how wizards lacked the knowledge of a telephone, let alone use one. He wondered over how convenient it would be if the invention reached the magical world; owls being put out of date. Or maybe the wizarding world would stay with owls forever. The thought disheartened him. He was deep in his thoughts enough that he did not hear Mustang’s English response to Malfoy.
“How nice,” Malfoy nodded, as began walking, and Mustang gestured for Ed to follow. As they walked down the hall of the Ministry building, some wizarding passers-by would spare them second and third glances; however, Ed had the suspicion that they were directed more towards Malfoy than the two alchemists following in his path.
He mouthed to Mustang, asking if he knew who this strange, long-haired blond was.
The Flame Colonel shrugged and mouthed back that he had no idea.
“The desk is here,” Malfoy declared, as if he were the Fuhrer, making a national announcement to the public. Under a sign with the word Security, a bored-looking wizard was slumped in his seat, looking like he was asleep but with his eyes open. However, upon noticing Malfoy, he made an incline of his head, and stood up dutifully and quickly; Ed was reminded of how soldiers would act towards himself with the rank of Major back home as they saw him.
“Mr Malfoy! I’m surprised to see you here sir, it’s always wonderful to see you back at the Ministry-”
So this Malfoy character didn’t work at the Ministry it seemed but it looked like he had some influential presence here, Ed mused. He frowned. The Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother had met some individuals that fit those criteria in the past during their travels. None of them turned out to be decent human beings.
“These two are Edward Elric and Roy Mustang, as you can see on their badges,” Malfoy said.
“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes…” the old wizard examined them carefully, as if they were some sort of new specimen. “And you are here, because…?”
“They are the Amestrian alchemists here on a meeting with the Minister, as you can see on their badges also,” Malfoy said slowly, drawing out his vowels. Pursing his lips, Ed decided he did not like this Malfoy man. Just like the others like him he had previously met. “Don’t bother with the wand registering, they’re not wizards. They’re an envoy sent from Amestris.”
The wizard nodded at Mustang, but Ed was irritated with how the wizard gave him a perplexed look, his eyes plainly saying: You’re a child. Why are you here? “Yes. I’m sorry. Sorry about that.” Behind him, the wizard pulled out a peculiar golden rod and instructed the two alchemists to step to the side.
Ed didn’t know what this procedure was nor the purpose of it, pondering over possible theories about what it could be as the wizard passed the rod down his front and back, before proceeding to do the same with Mustang. He nodded once he was finished with the both of them, and returned to his desk. “All done,” he said to the two alchemists, then nodded to the wizard who was waiting for the two behind them. “Good day to you, Mr Malfoy.”
“Yes,” Malfoy replied calmly. “Good day to you too.”
When they brushed past the old wizard, Mustang asked Malfoy a question, as several witches and wizards muttered and stared at the strange trio. “You seem to be very… plenty people know you, right?”
“Oh yes,” Malfoy agreed, “the Malfoy name is quite a famous one."
While the Minister was out doing God-knows-what with Harry Potter, Malfoy probably thought that this time would be the best time to take the two alchemists he had been acquainted with on a tour. Ed marvelled over the beautifully-designed architecture of the Ministry; it was nothing like he had ever seen in Amestris, where everything was plain and dull.
“It’s a lovely place,” Malfoy told them, “and the other Muggles won’t find us here, especially since it’s heavily veiled with magic and is located underground-”
“Cannot be under the ground,” Ed muttered, realising this was his first time he had spoken up since entering the Ministry of Magic headquarters. To his dismay, he was loud enough that Malfoy heard him, and he continued, gesturing to the windows, where the sunlight was peering through the glass, “There is… sun.”
“Magic,” Malfoy replied, pleased, “The Magical Maintenance Department simply picks what kind of weather they want it to look like outside; rain, sun, snow…”
There was no science that seemed to be involved in it; only magic, as Malfoy put it simply. The concept was still so alien in Ed’s mind, having grown up to know a logical explanation for everything, through science. Magic seemed so much like a childish notion. But was there any scientific explanation for it? Mustang who was beside him nodded thoughtfully; he too, Ed mused, seemed lost for words. They were alchemists after all; they searched for perfectly logical truths and yearned for fact.
The Malfoy-led tour seemed to flash by faster than Ed trying to escape the wrath of Winry and her wrench; most of it was spent with Malfoy explaining the ‘rich history within the walls of the Ministry’ and how he and his family had generously contributed to the Ministry as part of funding and mutual trust. Ed translated this to mean bribes. After all, this act was commonplace among corrupt soldiers who yearned for an upgrade in rank and reputation. No wonder the man had been regarded as an important figure in this Ministry.
Malfoy also seemed particularly interested in the country where his two new acquaintances hailed from. Mustang answered all of the questions, Ed listening intently at his side.
“From what I’ve heard, Amestris is a military republic, right? With all your Mug- I mean, soldiers and weapons and things. And your leader is called the Fuhrer?”
“Yes, Fuhrer Bradley,” Mustang nodded. “Your Ministry wrote letter to Fuhrer about this coming to Britain thing and now we are here.”
“What is it like in Amestris?”
“Amestris like here. With a lot less magic,” the Flame Colonel added.
“Is alchemy widely used, like magic for wizards and witches? Does everyone use it?”
“People cannot be born with alchemy power. But it can be taught.”
“So even wizards and witches could use alchemy? If they were taught by a professional alchemist?”
“... Yes, I suppose so.”
Ed imagined a large group of magical adolescents, around Harry Potter’s age, gathered around, attempting to grasp the basics of alchemy. It involved several complaining about the transmutation circles, others bothering the teacher with questions and some using their wands behind the teacher’s back, using magic to transform the objects instead. Then the fantasy shifted, and Ed imagined several youths in wizard robes, running for their lives in a thick forest, defenceless without their wands, as a bear rushed towards them. He shuddered, thinking of Teacher back home.
No way would the wizards survive alchemy training, especially if it was with her.
“-suppose you’re staying in Diagon Alley, right?”
Ed had only heard the two words Diagon Alley mentioned a couple of times before, particularly by Mrs Weasley. He looked up at Mustang, exchanging a second of nervousness with him. Then Mustang turned away from him, his stoic expression plastered on his face once again.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was a confidential area. A place very few knew about. A house no-one outside of that old bearded man Dumbledore’s circle was meant to know about. Especially the Ministry - that, Ed was very sure of.
“Edward! Mr Mustang!”
Edward Elric was not a boy who believed in luck, but he considered a single stroke of it probably saved the awkward silence (and the Flame Alchemist, who had been clearly unsure of his response). Upon seeing the red-haired man, Ed saw Malfoy’s lip curl with distaste. A mutual feeling was established from Mr Weasley, whose perplexed face morphed into an uncomfortable, unhappy one.
Next to him, was Potter. Ed judged that he wasn’t looking so downcast as he expected him to be, making him wonder whether he had actually come out of the hearing without punishment. Ed didn’t look at him, instead switching his gaze between the two adult wizards in front of him.
“Weasley.” Malfoy gave no sign of acknowledging Potter.
“Malfoy.”
“Aren’t you meant to be tinkering with Muggle objects in that sad little office of yours? Perhaps, sneaking them home and bewitching them?”
Mr Weasley went red. “I’ll have you know, Malfoy, at least I actually do work, not roll around in a Galleon heap all day.”
Malfoy remained unfazed. “At least I have the money. From what I’ve heard, in the Weasley house you can’t find a single Knut.”
Mr Weasley looked like he was on the brink of pouncing on the man, but the long-haired wizard simply smiled back at him. The smile reminded Ed of a leer, which made him want to further distance himself from the man. “I see you know these two alchemists?”
“Of course I do.” The red-haired regained some of his composure, saying proudly, “They’re staying with me, in my family’s house.”
A lie, Ed mused, but only part of it was untrue. And truth, for him, always trumps a lie.
“My God, they’re staying in that dump?” Malfoy drawled. “How is that allowed?” Even Potter started growing irritated by the man’s attitude, Ed saw, and before either Potter or Mr Weasley had the chance to retaliate he turned to the two alchemists again, saying, “Have you met Harry Potter yet, either of you two? You must, considering Potter has no other place to go in the wizarding world other than the redheads.”
Ed kept a blank gaze at Potter, and Potter did the same back at him. No acknowledgement of knowing the other boy prior was shown on either face. Which was easy, in Ed’s opinion, because he had been maintaining that face at Grimmauld Place towards Potter and his friends for days already.
“He was attending a disciplinary hearing today,” Malfoy continued. “Breaking the rules by using magic - and in front of a Muggle, too! Shame. I heard the whole Wizengamot tried you, Potter.”
“Yeah, and I went off scot-free,” Potter replied coldly.
“How very… snakelike. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Snakelike it was indeed, Lucius,” agreed a disgruntled voice from behind Ed, and he turned around, and saw a portly old man with a bowler hat and in robes. He had never seen the man before, but he was sure who he knew who this man was, judging by Malfoy’s wide smile upon seeing the man, and Mr Weasley and Potter’s stony faces.
Malfoy and the newcomer shook hands. “A pleasure to see you, Cornelius.”
The Cornelius man laughed. “And always wonderful to see you, Lucius.” He turned his neck at the two alchemists, and his smile became wider. “Ah, you must be the two alchemists. I assure you’ve arrived safely?” He stretched out his hand. “Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. Extremely pleased to see you.”
Mustang took it and introduced himself, then gestured for Ed to do the same. He outstretched his left hand, which surprised the Minister since he had shaken Mustang with his right, but nevertheless the older man switched hands.
“From what I have been told, Cornelius,” Malfoy coughed into his fist, “our two guests have been organised lodgings at the Weasleys’... residence.”
“Most likely the work of Dumbledore, I suppose.” Fudge was sure to not make his disapproval inconspicuous, spawning an expression on Mr Weasley’s face that was doing its best to keep its temper behind his flushed ears, and a more irritated one from Potter. “I’ll be in contact with Dumbledore soon enough. I would rather for them to stay in… much better places.”
Ed did his best to not look at Mr Weasley this time.
“Well, Lucius, while it was very nice to see you, I have business to attend to.” Fudge turned his neck towards Ed, who saw that Mustang had already stood. “Follow me, you two, we have much to discuss... Have a pleasant day, Lucius.”
“You too, Cornelius, old friend.”
With both wizards ignoring Mr Weasley and Potter, the two parted ways, and Ed followed the portly old man. As he passed Potter, the bespectacled boy mouthed something incomprehensible… though Ed had a slight idea about what he had said.
“Come in, you two.” With a wave of his wand, the door to what seemed like Fudge’s office opened, and Fudge gestured for them to enter first. “After you.”
Though Cornelius Fudge was smiling warmly, a smile that he wasn’t sure was too genuine or not, Ed looked at his eyes. You always could find one’s true emotions and expressions through their eyes (an expert trick he had learned in three years of military experience).
His gaze expressed seriousness. His gaze expressed, really, nothing warm and friendly. Just business.
(Then again, so was Moody's when he had opened the door to let them in, but this was different. At least, Ed suspected it was.)
Nothing good, then. At least for Ed.
The door closed gently, and as Fudge led the two alchemists to their seats he took his own. With a slight cheerful air in his voice, he said, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”