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ch3
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Taking a deep breath, the dark doctor rehashed the plan in his mind for what felt like the hundredth time.
Step One: Play nice with the wizards, they have the ability to get back to the Grand Line. This apparently includes defeating Voldemort. Again. For like the third time.
Step Two: Before leaving, destroy every item which could be used to re-summon him from the Grand Line.
Step Three: Do not get drawn into the madness that is Straw Hat.
His eyes flicked to the body snoozing in the bed next to him, limbs akimbo and pillows thrown to the floor, and found himself repressing a small smile with horror.
He reevaluated step three, and underlined it a few times in bright colors so that the message seared itself into his psyche.
Sighing, he rolled out from under the covers. The cloths he had been wearing on the Thousand Sunny had been cleaned overnight and nearly folded on the dresser. Out of curiosity he opened the wardrobe. Someone, a house elf most likely, had filled it with the cloths Law had left behind on his last trip to the wizarding world.
The doctor tugged a long sleeved yellow shirt from its hanger and pulled it on over a pair of blue jeans. The fabric clung to his filled out frame, defining the muscles Law had gained across his arms and shoulders since the shirt was first bought.
All the cloths would have to be destroyed, obviously, but for now he would need to wear them. Straw Hat would need a new outfit as well... Law sighed. He very much disliked the wizarding world.
Leaving his coat folded where it was, he picked up his sword and left the room. Dumbledore had given him the password to his office, and Law wished to speak with the headmaster about his role in the unavoidable conflict he had been roped into. He had not exactly been listening when the old man explained it before.
The whole Voldemort mess could hardly be called a war. No, Law had seen a real war. A war fit only for the best. This wizard skirmish was not worthy of such an imposing title.
He rounded the hall to see the ugly gargoyle guarding the door to the headmaster's office.
"Lemon drop," Law said, the benign words sounding menacing as they crossed his lips.
"Ah, Mr. Potter! Good to see you!" Dumbledore beamed from behind his desk. "I was just about to send for you!"
Inclining his head stiffly, Law settled himself into a chair. Most of his willpower was being used to stop himself from falling into a murderous rage at the sight of the meddlesome old fool, so the doctor excused himself from summoning up a polite answer to the greeting in favor of getting down to business.
"You say that Voldemort has returned. What has he been doing, and what have you done to oppose him thus far?"
"Voldemort's forces have been quiet since the incident with the Tri Wizard Tournament in june. I believe that is mostly thanks to your efforts," Dumbledore nodded to him, eyes twinkling. The doctor ignored him, lest he break something. Like some vertebrae between the shoulders and neck.
"I've tried to inform the Ministry, however Fudge is being stubborn. I've recalled the Order to fight in case Voldemort tries something before I have convinced Cornelius to see reason." Dumbledore continued.
"What is the Order?" Las asked.
"The Order of the Phoenix is a group which has opposed Voldemort in the past. I have called upon some former members, in light of Voldemort's recent return." Dumbledore chuckled. "The Ministry has been pressuring the school lately, with trying to fulfill the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but thanks to you agreeing to take the position I have had time to reassemble the Order. Things are moving along at a much faster rate than I had hoped."
The doctor tilted his head to the side. He didn't expect the headmaster to be in charge of a civilian militia, but the old man did have a habit of sticking his fingers into too many pies.
"If you wish for me to help you defeat Voldemort," Law left off the again, lest he sound irritable, "Then I will need to be kept up to date on all the information you and your group have about his forces' movements."
"I will of course let you know once I have everything gathered-"
"No. If you want my help, then I must be kept informed with up to date information. I will not walk onto a battlefield without a plan."
The headmaster smiled in an indulgent grandfatherly way. "My dear boy, the Order will have everything taken care of before anything serious occurs."
"Let me re-phrase that then," the doctor's smirk matched the old man's cheer with poison. "I refuse to walk onto a battlefield with only one of your plans."
"My dear boy-"
"I do not mean to undermine your organization," his eyes narrow dangerously, begging the old man to correct him, "but I have had more experience in these matters than you. The most efficient way for us to work together would be for you to keep me informed, than for me to keep myself informed." Of course, Law would be working on his own information network as well, but the old man did not need to know that.
Dumbledore frowned. "Your request is not unreasonable, however I cannot allow you to premptively go onto the battlefield simply because you do not agree with the Order's plan."
It was lucky that Law's hands were tucked in his pockets under the desk, or else the effort he was putting into keeping his hands still would alert the headmaster to his narrowly avoided death. The dark doctor had tortured countless crews at sea for less than what he was being forced to tolerate now.
He forced his face into a pleasant smile. "I meant nothing of the sort, headmaster. I simply feel that my experience might be useful when the Order is planning. We must utelize our resources in this time of... crisis." The taste of copper slid around his tongue from where he had clenched his teeth.
The tinkle returned to the old man's eye. "Of course! I'm glad you are thinking ahead on this. I shall inform you when the Order holds meetings so you may attend."
To Law his tone sounded akin to a master rewarding a particularly smart dog for learning a surprising trick. The doctor kept his face frozen in it's painful contortion. The wounds on his hands had reformed. "Thank you."
Law stood abruptly from his seat, fists in his pockets. "I must be going to check if Mugiwara has awakened."
"Ah yes, your companion, Mugiwara was it? Do be sure to tell him about his assisting Hagrid on the grounds this year. And on that note, Minerva has offered to help you form a lesson plan for your classes."
Tension stretched taught across the doctor's shoulders. He had forgotten about that little promise. "I shall be sure to thank her," he said, before striding out the office door.
Later, Filch, the caretaker, would be livid to find an entire hallway full of suits of armor smashed to pieces and sliced in increasingly creative ways. No portrait in the vicinity claimed to have seen what happened, except for one particularly annoying knight, but no one believed his tale of a black clothed blur wielding a sword. He blamed the incident on Peeves, and used the case as evidence to once again petition the headmaster to expell the poltergiest.
Elsewhere, a mildly calmer surgeon made his way back to his office. An old woman in a nurse's outfit waited outside the door for him.
"Oh, Trafalgar, thank goodness you are here! I didn't know what to do with him," Madam Pomphrey ushered the confused doctor into the hospital wing.
One look at the nearest occupied bed, and Law could understand her concern.
Sprawled across the sheets, an unconscious Straw Hat captain snores, his arms patting the obscenely huge blob his stomach has become.
"The house elves dropped him off here a few minutes ago," the nurse said. "He had been so happy to eat their cooking, that they didn't think something was wrong until he passed out. He must be suffering from a ruptured stomach, or perhaps an allergic reaction of some kind..."
The doctor shook his head. "Do not trouble yourself madam, I assure you he is quite well. My...comrade suffers from a rather strange anatomical condition which leaves his body to behave as though it were made of rubber."
The nurse looked horrified. "Did he get in front of a spell as a child?"
Law shrugged. "Something like that."
The old woman's hands flew to her mouth. "The poor dear! No wonder he eats so much- if his stomach is rubber, then his brain would not be able to sense the stomach lining stretch to indicate when he is full! He must be constantly starving!"
"Actually, I think that last bit is a family trait," the doctor added, mind drifting to the one time he had met Vice Admiral Garp at a meting for the seven Warlords.
Pomphrey did not hear him over her own frantic fluttering around the prone form on the bed. "I suppose there is nothing to do but let him sleep it off," she said at last, before bustling back to her office.
Law massaged the space between his eyes, wondering when the imminent headache would crash down on him. He was beginning to regret his alliance with the Straw Hat captain.
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