Lapdog
One thing Ed had noticed during his travels trekking across Amestris was that among the people he encountered, it was the influential old men that left the most of an impression on him.
Fuhrer Bradley, for one. He had talked to the Fullmetal Alchemist a few times and Ed thought of him as a rather unpredictable individual. There was also manipulative Father Cornello, the leader of a false cult; Ed's lip curled in disgust thinking about him. Whatever had happened to him anyway?
Cornelius Fudge, the leader of this Ministry of Magic, seemed like a heady mix of the two: slightly unpredictable, but manipulative in his own way. His brooding expression waited for their response, and Ed was sure he was not wanting to receive a No. He looked to his right and Mustang seemed currently deep in thought, until finally, he spoke.
"Why?"
"It's quite a bit of a task for me, protecting two highly esteemed state alchemists who're being specifically targeted from a terrorist," Fudge said, taking another sip of tea. "In addition, I have spoken with your Fuhrer and he said due to the… severity of the terrorist issue back home, I am allowed to make further reasonable requests of you." Another sip of tea. It was infuriating. "I would rather call it a mercenary mission, in my opinion. You alchemists, this is what you call the Law of Equivalent Exchange, right?"
Which, Ed knew, was bullshit. As far as he knew, Scar would have more problems to worry about than chase after than two military lapdogs who were far out of his reach. But he knew the Minister was right about this being a mercenary mission. He knew his shaking fists were clenching under the table; for a moment he wanted to curse at the Minister, at Dumbledore, at the Order for placing him in this situation he was meant to have no involvement in.
"What reason do you have asking this of us?" Mustang asked.
"I suspect Albus Dumbledore is attempting to stir up unrest with… well, you might have heard already, but Harry Potter and Dumbledore have been spreading rumours that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned."
"How can you be very sure Dumbledore lies?" Ed snapped at the Minister.
Fudge sighed and turned to Ed, looking tired, but smiled slightly at him. "My dear boy, think about it this way. A dark wizard from twenty years ago, causing terror and destruction all around the wizarding world. He was killed all those years ago by- by Potter."
Ed moved the pieces in his mind. "So," he said, hoping his tone sounded severely unconvinced, "a baby killed dark wizard."
He would have laughed, but in this tense atmosphere he found it hard to even try.
"He Who Must Not Be Named murdered Potter's parents, but for unknown reasons could not kill Potter; and the killing spell rebounded on him. He died, and now Dumbledore is suggesting he has returned - and Potter himself as well." Fudge snorted. "Claimed to have seen him during the final round of the Tournament. I suppose he was traumatised after the death of Cedric Diggory, but claiming that He Who Must Not Be Named murdered him was too far…"
"How did Diggory die?" Ed asked. He had met many stupid politicians and soldiers in his time as a state alchemist, but he had yet to meet one who would fully disregard a potential threat to the country. And Fudge was a leader, no doubt. Mustang listened intently to their exchange; however, his expression was so blank Ed had no idea what he was truly feeling.
"Diggory's death was… an accident, a tragic accident," muttered Fudge mournfully, shaking his head. "Of course, the Triwizard Tournament is a very dangerous competition, and we had to bring it back last year…"
"Are you not at least… investigating any threat to this magical world?" Mustang questioned. "Dumbledore's words may not have full truth but there should be some truth. There might be some bad things happening to this world."
One thing Ed knew was that in every big lie there was at least some element of credibility in there. But Fudge shook his head. "I have investigated the matters and we have concluded that Potter and Dumbledore are lying. He Who Must Not Be Named has not returned; he is dead and whatever attention seeking motive they have, those two shouldn't be believed!"
Silence. Ed noted the rising hints of anger in the Minister's voice; he could not believe how someone could dismiss it so quickly.
"I understand your concerns, Mr Mustang and Mr Elric, but any threat to the wizarding world is non-existent and even if there were, the Ministry will respond to it accordingly." In a much calmer tone, he continued, "If anything, Dumbledore and Potter's words are beginning to cause unrest. The majority don't believe it, of course, but what would happen if they were able to spread their messages around? The wizarding world would be in chaos, just like when He Who Must Not Be Named was last in power, only now, he isn't." Fudge sighed, then smiling at the two of them, said, "I am simply trying to prevent discord among the wizarding world.
"It'll just be simple tasks that I will assign to you throughout the school year," Fudge continued. “Through owl, of course. Consider it like… errands.”
An errand boy. Ed bit his lip. In similar situations in Amestris, he would normally have an extremely colourful and indignant outburst, but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t Amestris, he reminded himself.
He hoped Mustang would argue back, but then he slumped back, keeping his mouth shut as well. His eyes were tired but just as frustrated as Ed was; there would be no point trying to speak up against the Minister. He was the leader of an entire society, and their own leader had given his own seal of approval on this as well. Fudge smiled.
“I suppose this ends things between us three.” He stood. “A pleasure meeting you, Edward. I heard you are living… in the Weasley residence, correct?” Ed ignored his tone when he said Weasley residence. “I suppose Mr Weasley will escort you back. And Edward, you are also staying with Potter, correct? I advise that you… disregard his delusions. They’re already driving the Ministry mad.”
Ed didn’t respond to that. He stood and thanked Fudge for his time, and waited for Mustang to stand. But Fudge spoke up again. “Actually, Mr Mustang, do you think you can stay for a bit longer? There’s a few things that still need to be discussed.”
“I thought we talked everything already,” Mustang said.
“Oh no, not with me. You see, this year you won’t be the only newcomers to Hogwarts. I thought you two should get to know each other.”
The door opened after a quick knock. Ed turned, and his first thought of the woman that was standing there: She looks like a toad. She was wearing apparel that was in all shades of pink, with a smile that Ed looked like was incredibly fake. She made her smile even larger.
“My name is Dolores Umbridge,” she said sweetly and Ed almost cringed at her high-pitched tone. “You are the two alchemists, correct? It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, the wizarding world was waiting for you two.”
She held out her hand first - her right hand. Nervously, Ed took his automail hand forward and shook hers gingerly. She did the same with Mustang, who clasped her hand stiffly before letting go. She turned to Ed. “Mr Mustang and I will be discussing things in Hogwarts over a cup of tea, but that’s enough of such political jargon for a boy like you. Off you pop, you can go home now.”
So another one who treats me like a child, Ed thought. Lovely.
He didn’t move from his spot until Umbridge said, “Oh, I won’t do anything to Mr Mustang, don’t you worry, Mr Elric. I suppose all of this should be boring you already, so off you go. We’ll be seeing each other again, at Hogwarts. I will be a teacher there so I do expect you will be in one of my classes.”
He nodded, then left the office. Mr Weasley and Harry Potter were situated not far from where he and Mustang had last left them.
"What did Fudge say?" Potter asked. "What did he say? Anything about me, did he talk about what you're going to do at Hogwarts?"
Ed grunted, hoping that it would act as a deterrent to Potter’s questions. His hands were clenched in his pockets in irritation.
What Fudge said had bothered him greatly. From his declaration that the alchemists were now fully under his jurisdiction, to pure denial of Voldemort’s return. It would be worth thinking about when he got home - while poring over his limited alchemy resources.
“Where’s Mustang?” Mr Weasley asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.
Ed told him, in broken English, he would be staying for a while longer to discuss something with a Ministry official. Mr Weasley seemed surprised, but was satisfied with his answer and said he would organise someone to help Mustang to reach Grimmauld Place on his own. They were about to leave the Ministry when Potter asked them to stop; he pulled out a small bag from his side and emptied its contents, which happened to be coins, into a peculiar looking statue of a small being with large, pointy ears.
/-/-/-/-/
Many things were bothering Edward Elric. Cornelius Fudge and his entitled ‘orders’, whatever the hell that pink toad woman would be discussing with Mustang, and Potter taking glances at him every few minutes in the Underground, desperate to get his questions answered (Ed kept his gaze fixated on a travel brochure).
Knowledge wasn’t gained without losing or giving something of your own. That was the Law of Equivalent Exchange, wasn't it? He knew this through experience. Having secret alchemical knowledge crammed into your head in the Gate didn't come cheap, after all.
He hoped not all wizards were like this. He hoped the Order - that trio, and Malfoy, and goverment officials like the Ministry - were just an exception. God, if they were… his trip to Hogwarts would be even less of an enjoyable one (not that he was looking forward to going to Hogwarts in the first place).
An hour later in Grimmauld Place, cheers of HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, still rang in his head like a pealing church bell. Potter had been cleared of all charges; Ed would have thought it amusing if he hadn’t. He turned the pages of a so-called alchemical book in front of him on the bed.
"Hey, Fullmetal."
Ed looked up. The Flame Alchemist was taking off his coat and his hat, placing the two on the coat rack in the corner.
"Have you found anything yet?"
Ed looked at him and pointed at the pile of five books that lay beside him on the desk. "These are the only books about alchemy this house has."
"And what about them?"
He bit his lip in frustration. "They're awfully primitive." To prove his point, Ed opened one of the books, flipping through the yellowed pages, skimming past diagrams of elements and strange machines impossible to build, that claimed to be the methods to transmute anything into gold. The idea, Ed knew, was so unscientific; the book had claimed that you could even turn water into gold.
Nothing about channeling the earth's energy, nothing about deconstruction and reconstruction, nothing about the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Just obnoxious nonsense that could not even be considered science in the first place. He hadn't expected texts such as Hohenheim's research back home to be here, but in Ed's opinion, the book he held in his hand could not even qualify for a child's alchemical textbook.
"There is the Hogwarts library," Mustang suggested. "It's a school library, but I have heard it is one of the biggest of its kind in the wizarding world. Once you get to Hogwarts you can research away. Along with protecting Potter, of course."
Looking for alchemy resources in a library at a magic school? Ed had low hopes for that.
"The real question is, are there any wizarding alchemists in the first place, that I can talk to directly." Ed slammed the book shut and placed it back on the pile. "I won't be able to get any proper information just by reading this.”
"You do know Albus Dumbledore is an alchemist, right?"
Ed frowned at him. “You’re joking.”
“I wouldn’t be joking about that.” The Fullmetal Alchemist watched Mustang delve into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, pentagonal card decorated in colours of blue and gold. He tossed it over to Ed, who stared at the small waving figure that he had met only very recently (he was never going to get over the fact the pictures didn’t move). “You know, they stopped producing the Albus Dumbledore version of these? Because the Ministry doesn't like him anymore and all that.”
He turned to the back of the card, which read a few of his achievements. It was strange, wondered Ed, how the Ministry would reject the claim of Voldemort returning from a man who had fought and defeated a dark wizard before, according to this card. He skimmed over the dragon’s blood fact (he was not surprised that dragons existed anymore), but his eyes wouldn’t move their gaze from the last fact revealed about the Headmaster of Hogwarts: ...his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.
Ed stared at it, unbelieving. Every alchemist knew Nicolas Flamel, the first man who attempted to create the Philosopher’s Stone. But he was aware that Flamel was an alchemist from the 15th century and had died so long ago his original works were lost. Was this another Flamel who had the original as his namesake? He was about to make a quip about Dumbledore’s age, but he wondered, if Dumbledore was an alchemist, he would be able to have at least some knowledge of it.
It could probably help his chances of gaining information if he had information of his own to share.
Equivalent Exchange, after all.
But what of the Stone? He wondered if Dumbledore would even be willing to tell him how to find a Stone, or make one himself, if he knew. He bit his lip in frustration, as he remembered his conversation with Hermione Granger revealed there had been a Stone in existence, but was now destroyed in the hands of Potter and Voldemort.
He closed the book and made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about his work on alchemy and Nicolas Flamel when he got to Hogwarts, and changed the topic.
"What did that Umbridge woman want with you?”
The Flame Alchemist shrugged. “Not much. There is this one subject, Defence Against the Dark Arts. She will be teaching as a professor for that subject for the coming year. Thing is, Dumbledore apparently pulled a few strings so now that the subject will be divided so that Umbridge will take half of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons of the week, teaching them the standard curriculum, while I will take the other half.”
Ed snorted. “You’ll be teaching kids alchemy?” It intrigued him, however, knowing there was such a subject that helped students be aware of and acknowledge danger, and to help fight back against it.
“Umbridge is kind of against it. Says this year is OWL year for fifth years and NEWT for seventh… says it will be hindering their progress. Fudge didn’t seem happy with it either, but he said this was out of courtesy to us and that the subject exams would be changed to suit the shortened lesson time with the actual curriculum.” Mustang shook his head. Seeing Ed’s confused face, he explained, “OWL and NEWT. Strange names, but they’re big exams for Hogwarts students. Can you imagine me teaching alchemy to a bunch of ungrateful magical teenagers?”
Ed had been wondering about it for quite a long time and was both pleased and horrified to find out his imagination was turning into a reality. (He was still wondering whether this was a good or bad thing.)
“And another thing. I’m meant to leave for Hogwarts by the end of the week, Fullmetal. Something about so I can get accustomed to the Hogwarts building in time for school.”
So, a few days without Colonel Bastard. The thought of it delighted him, until he realised he would be left on his own, with only other wizards for company.
“You’re seriously going to leave me alone?” (If Al knew about this, he would probably be amused, having had to tolerate his brother's complaining about the Colonel time and time again.)
“I thought you would want to be alone without me. You didn’t want to go with me in the first place.”
“Why can’t I come, for God’s sake? I can’t be left here!”
“Orders. Both Dumbledore and the Ministry. They say it’ll be more convenient and more of an experience if you were to take the Hogwarts Express like everyone else.”
Mustang ignored the unhappy groans that came from the younger.
“You might as well try to mingle with the other children, Fullmetal.” Ed ignored him as Mustang closed the door on him and left the room.
The real mission was soon. Very soon, a small voice nagged in his head. But at least, he had a reason to look forward to going to Hogwarts.
He was going to have another conversation with Albus Dumbledore.
/-/-/-/-/
One thing Roy knew, was that these wizards were seriously underprepared for this 'war.'
The only one who would have any chance of surviving was Moody. He could see that that man had seen and fought previous battles in his years, building up on experience. Probably Sirius Black as well. From what Roy could see, he would at least be able to put up some fight.
The rest were pretty much hopeless. Especially Mrs Weasley, who tried to baby Edward every now and then. Her feelings toward the Amestrians had mellowed drastically, but that did not mean they had disappeared completely. Roy saw it sometimes when he, Edward and Mrs Weasley were in the same room again; the expression asking: Why?
Well, what was he going to expect for a group that pulled out their wands and relied on magic for such simple tasks such as setting the table or carrying the stew pot?
As for the main matter of it all, their mission, Harry Potter… the boy demanded information and the answers to all his questions as if he expected them to come to him on a silver platter. A concept quite unknown to the Flame Alchemist. Equivalent Exchange, after all. If the boy, according to the Order, was the one who had to step up and defeat Voldemort, he would need better training.
Teaching the boy some alchemy would probably do him some good. (He was sure Edward would disagree; Roy on the other hand felt like that having an upper hand advantage by having a power Voldemort did not would be helpful.) Learning alchemy was a laborious task, and required sacrifices as outlined by the law of Equivalent Exchange. But if Potter could undertake it, he knew it would pay off.
Wait. He was going to have to teach Potter alchemy - as well as the rest of the children of his school for Defence Against the Dark Arts, or whatever that subject was called.
Maybe he was underestimating Potter, and the rest of the wizards and witches, because of living in a military republic warring every country it bordered with, or that he had participated in a war himself and had witnessed the struggle for survival. He was struggling for survival back then, in the blaring heat shining on the desert expanse of Ishval, the sweat pouring down his forehead and his nose and his neck and his back as the flames danced across Ishvalan towns and grew higher and higher.
Genocide, he reminded himself. Not even close to a war. It was genocide.
It didn't make him feel better about anything.
He tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius Black’s mother, sheathed by a dark red curtain, as to not wake her up and have her shouting about his impure blood. From what he had learned during his discussion with that Umbridge woman back at the Ministry, a small number of wizards had that superiority complex, regarding the 'pureness' of their magic.
Dolores Umbridge… what a despicable woman. The way she had smiled at him had felt like a mocking leer, as if she had told him, I have magic and you do not. Therefore I am a superior being to yourself. Her high-pitched, girlish, sing-song voice reminded him of the way one would speak to an infant; not even his aunt had ever addressed him the way Umbridge did during any part of his childhood.
His lip curled in disgust thinking about how he was going to have to take half of her classes to learn alchemy. He was not looking forward to working with her.
“Mustang.”
He turned.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was behind him, having been informed about Roy going to Hogwarts (he worked at the Ministry, so Roy was not surprised). He explained to him that he would be taking the Knight Bus that evening, and Shacklebolt would be escorting him to a small park not far from Grimmauld Place and flag the bus down for him, which would take him right to a village to Hogsmeade - from there he would travel to Hogwarts, which was not at all far from the village. The travel expenses would be fully paid for by Hogwarts and the Ministry; Roy was just to sit back and “enjoy the ride.” He told him that it was an extremely fast and efficient way to travel for Muggles, so the wizards had decided to adopt the idea of a bus as well.
That evening, he packed. His mind was full of thoughts about Hogwarts, Umbridge, the Ministry’s using of him and Fullmetal, and the mission. Packing only took ten minutes - it only involved folding old clothes and placing a few folders back into his trunk.
Dinner was a quiet affair, apart from Roy having dragged a cursing Fullmetal down to the dinner table. He watched Mrs Weasley fuss over Potter and his friends, who had seemed more concerned with whispering among each other. He had not been paying attention to the three but was sure he had heard his and Fullmetal’s names in their conversation at least once.
When dinner was finished and the table was cleared with a wave of Mrs Weasley’s wand, Shacklebolt nudged him lightly on the shoulder, telling him it was time to go.
He shook hands with all the adults who had assembled together to see him off. Roy could see the redheaded Weasley children, Potter and Granger just behind them, in a small group of their own watching from behind the adults’ backs, and nodded in acknowledgement in their direction. Potter seemed like he was about to open his mouth, but refrained from doing so and instead just watched him with cautious eyes.
As he donned his coat, he turned to Edward, who seemed bored, but he had suspected the younger was annoyed by him having to leave.
"Behave yourself, Fullmetal," Roy warned the younger as he picked up his trunk in one hand, put his fedora on with the other, and prepared to leave.
“I should have went with you," he barely heard Edward quip back. “I can’t last another day here.”
“You’ll be fine. Stop whining.”
And with that, he watched Kingsley Shacklebolt step out into the cool breeze of the August evening. He beckoned for Roy to follow.
/-/-/-/-/
"He had a gun!" Hermione whispered. "I swear he had a gun. I saw it!"
"Gun?" Ron asked. "Those metal wands that Muggles use to kill each other with?"
“Yes, just for a second, I saw it - it’s in a holster. It's under his coat now.”
"They're Muggle soldiers," Harry said. "I would be surprised if they didn't."
A few moments of silence, then:
"Do you think Elric has a-"
"Don't you dare, Ron."
/-/-/-/-/
On a street, around only a few minutes away from Twelve Grimmauld Place, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Roy were waiting for the Knight Bus. The Flame Alchemist turned towards the wizard, watching as he held out his hand. He quickly explained to Roy this was the way of summoning the Knight Bus that would take him to Hogsmeade, then sighed and said, “You should be careful around Umbridge.”
Roy looked at him. Still serious, he explained, “I work at the Ministry. I know what Umbridge is like. She’s a liar and a sneak.” He wrinkled his nose. “She believes in the hierarchy of purebloods as well. The Ministry obviously want her there to spy on Dumbledore and Potter and to become a bigger influence there.”
“I think I had that feeling of her,” Roy said quietly.
“Dumbledore will see you upon your arrival at Hogsmeade, and he himself will escort you to the school,” he continued. “You should enjoy Hogwarts. Everyone does, even the teachers. Don’t let the mission or the Ministry try to stop you from that. The same to Edward Elric. Hogwarts is a lovely place.” A pause. “I should be heading back now. The Bus have been informed you will be travelling with them by Dumbledore, so just tell them you’re heading to Hogwarts. They’ve been expecting you.”
There was a pop, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had disappeared.
Roy shivered slightly. Enjoy Hogwarts? He stared up into the sky, wondering when the Bus would come, and what time it would be in Amestris right now.
He decided that he would need to survive the ordeals of Hogwarts before being freely able to enjoy it.