Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa
Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling
Fields of Gold
"Sometimes words just can't explain."
- Michelle Branch
It was on this particular morning that Edward felt — or rather, knew — that was something was going to go wrong. It had been nearly a week since they arrived at Grimmauld Place, and he had just finished re-bandaging his wound when he realized that something was going to go on. He didn't know if it was bad or good. It was just a feeling, a prickle in the back of his neck, like he always had when something was about to happen. He would just have to wait and see.
The mornings were no better than the rest of the day, and Edward had taken to skipping breakfast all together. Mustang still provided him with adequate food when needed, bringing up a sandwich or a cup of coffee when he seemed to need it the most. He was grateful, but it wasn't like he was going to express that any time soon.
It was almost six o'clock, actually, when it happened.
There was a tremendous crash, the sound of plates being broken, and he barely traded glances with his superior before rushing downstairs. Immediately, his muscles tensed in case of intruders. He was about to run in and perform standard protocol, but then saw that it was just two more people sitting on the bottom of the floor, tangled in a pile of limbs. He shook his head to Mustang.
One was Remus Lupin, that of which who was helping up a shocking-pink haired, teary-eyed woman. A black-haired, lanky boy beside them straightened and pulled up his suitcase, staring between them carefully.
"Ah, Tonks, I think you need to work on your Apparating," Lupin said gently, letting the woman go. Edward recognized her briefly from the flash of Order meetings that took place in the past few days. He jerked his head to Mustang, telling him silently, go upstairs. I'll handle this.
Mustang's eyebrow rose, but he said nothing and complied.
"Wotcher," Tonks said woozily, shaking her head. "How are you holding, Harry?"
"Good," the boy, now identified as Harry, said. "Why didn't we just come through the front door?"
"Ah," This time, Lupin looked sheepish. "I forgot the paper. Without it, we couldn't get in." Tonks rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and Edward decided that this was a good time to come in as any. Making sure it was as casual as possible, he passed through the front door and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Oh, hello," he said in faux greeting. He shifted, staring at everyone warily then landing on Lupin. It was the only familiar face he knew. "Was I interrupting something? I just heard a crash downstairs." He eyed the pile of broken dishes on the floor, fallen from the cupboard. Tonks blushed.
Lupin chuckled. "Sorry if we bothered you, Edward," he apologized. "We just brought young Harry over here—ah, Harry, this is the new member of the Order, Edward Elric. Edward, this is Harry Potter." The name rung many bells. Edward bit his lip to hold back a wry smile at the boy's openly hostile look.
"Pleasure," he said shortly, nodding in Harry's direction. "I'll leave you to it, then. Do you want me to call Molly?" He looked pointedly at Harry's suitcase. He had learned that when there was something to be taken care of domestically, Molly was the one to call. She would go bonkers if you touched something and didn't put it back in its proper place.
"That would be great."
Edward's mouth quirked up slightly and her turned around again, the sound of his uneven footsteps clunking as he walked up the stairs. Molly's room was right across the hall and down the corridor from his, but he didn't need to go that far. She was already on her way down, her brows furrowed in worry.
"Oh, Edward! Did you hear that noise?" She was so anxious that it showed in her eyes.
Taking pity on the woman, he said in reply, "Harry Apparated in with Lupin and Tonks." He tried to sound as professional as possible, using the words that he had heard earlier, even though they were unfamiliar. They seemed to make sense to Molly, though, as her eyes widened and she thanked him quickly before heading down the stairs. A cry of pleasure and Edward knew that it was a happy reunion.
As soon as he entered the door to his room, he told his superior, "Subject has arrived."
Forty minutes later, they were all seated in the dining room, a beaming Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger next to the new addition; Harry Potter. But the boy himself didn't look too happy, and upon second glance, Edward could see that Hermione's smile faltered in places.
"I thought a formal meeting was due," Molly Weasley explained, motioning to both of the groups by hand. "Harry, Ron, Hermione? This is Roy Mustang and Edward Elric," she pointed to each of them in turn, "And they'll be at your school this coming semester."
"Really?" Hermione was the first to speak, her eyes lighting up. "Neither of you look young enough to be students, except for Mr. Elric..." she paused, and then continued when she saw that Edward hadn't glared at her; in fact, all he seemed to do was pout a little. "Are you going to be professors?"
"I will be," Mustang cut in smoothly. "Not for a particular part of the school staff, however. I believe I will be aiding your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Inside, Roy had to snort; what kind of subject was that? But Dumbledore had said it was so, so that's what it would be.
"I'm too old to be a student, you're right," Edward shrugged. "I'm Dumbledore's apprentice. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand casually, ignoring the flabbergasted looks that the teenagers—and Molly—seemed to give him. He felt a little defensive; was it that uncommon? They had apprenticeship back in Amestris, but it seemed to be rare around here. But Edward had read the manilla file that was always given before missions, and that's what it had said.
He was told that he was to be a student at first, but Mustang said that there were different plans to be made...once more decided by the headmaster.
He was starting to understand who ran things here.
"Now now, lets get Harry all settled in," Molly cut in, flushing. "Enough with all this talk about school! There's still a week left before it starts, yes? Are you kids excited about your classes?"
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Ron seemed to flinch and grimace, and Harry simply pressed his lips tightly together, many emotions flashing behind his light green eyes. They recovered when Sirius entered, smiling widely and not spending a moment to reach over to Harry and hug him.
"Padfoot!" Harry smiled briefly, hugging him back. "I haven't seen you for months! How's the occupation?"
"Horrible, Prongslet," Sirius said. "They keep me locked up here like a dog." He grinned crookedly, and for some reason Harry and his friends laughed a little bit. Harry still didn't seem to be in a good mood, by the way that his eyes set downward when he sat in his seat for dinner.
"I heard that you produced a corporeal patronus in that dingy old neighbourhood of yours," Sirius whispered, leaning over as Remus entered with a few other people. "How was it? Did you scare off anything?"
"A couple of Dementors," Harry murmured back. "Don't know if I'm in trouble or not — the Ministry hasn't exactly been cooperating." Sirius clearly wasn't expecting such an answer; by the way that his face reddened, no one had bothered to tell him why his godson had come so early to Grimmauld Place.
"Sirius?" Harry questioned, confused by the lack of answer.
Sirius forced himself to calm down, breathing in and out once. "That was just something that Dumbledore...forgot to tell us last night Harry, sorry."
"Wait," Harry interrupted, "Dumbledore knew? And he left me until today to get me from that horrid place? The Dursleys were on my back for the whole day!" At the end of his exclamation, Lupin and Tonks looked faintly abashed (as they should be.)
"You have to remember, Harry, that because you performed underage magic certain measures have to be taken. You'd gotten the owl from the Ministry, haven't you?" Harry nodded at Hermione's explanation. "Well, since Dumbledore got wind of it, he went straight away to the Ministry without stop. He's probably working out your hearing right this moment."
"Hearing?" Harry's cheeks turned red in anger. "I was just defending myself against Dementors! There's nothing that I've done that warrants a bloody hearing."
Hermione grimaced. "Try explaining that to the Wizengamot. There should be some loopholes in the law...especially about a minor in the scene of danger..." She trailed off thoughtfully, finger tapping her chin. "I think I'll ask Dumbledore the next time I see him to be present at the Wizengamot. I have some researching to do."
Ron snorted. "That's Hermione. If anyone can get you out of this mess, Harry, it's her and her books." Most of the sentence was grumbled, but you could tell that there was genuine fondness in his voice. Hermione smiled at the hidden compliment. Harry had to shake his head at his friends' obliviousness.
When Molly brought in platters of food for dinner, Harry took a moment to inspect the newcomers. Granted, he was one himself, but the people in the Order were ones that he was familiar with. Edward and Roy were not. They barely looked English; more a mix of something Eurasian. They also stayed pretty quiet, talking under their breath and in incoherent mutters. The blond one, Edward, looked a bit annoyed.
He also had sharp eyes. Edward turned slightly and set a decidedly irate glare on Harry. "Is there something you needed?" At his blank look, he continued in a level tone so that others didn't hear, "You were staring at me for quite some time."
"I've never seen someone with your colouring, is all," Harry blurted out the first thing in his mind. Edward looked taken aback by this, blinking in bewilderment. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. "I never saw a person with gold eyes..." Remus looked more faded-yellow the more he thought about it and compared it to the colour of Edward's eyes. "Are they natural?"
He knew that it sounded pretty rude, but there was nothing else to make up for his slip. Edward sighed. "Yeah, they are," he said, sounding like he had this conversation many times before. "My dad had them too." And he turned abruptly back to his own conversation. Like nothing was said between them at all.
Harry did not see Dumbledore for the rest of his stay at Grimmauld Place. He was told that the headmaster did come by, however, and it made Harry wonder why he didn't stop to explain the whole process to him — god knew that someone needed to. Hermione said at dinner that night that she was able to have a short, five-minute conversation with Dumbledore before he Apparated away.
Arthur Weasley was the one that was escorting him to the Ministry, Harry found out hours later. It was all planned and prepackaged; Tonks would follow afterward, then Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was all there, and Harry found himself anticipating tomorrow; he patted his hair down nervously, even though there was still a good twelve hours left before his hearing. For some reason, Harry knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.
Hermione burst in through his door looking completely upset, a few moments later. Harry was jolted out of his thoughts, for he was thinking about Fred and George's new joke shop and Sirius' awful denial of accompanying him to the Ministry. He didn't know where his thoughts had taken such a dark turn, and he actually felt a little grateful at Hermione's abrupt appearance.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, her lips pulling down into a frown, "I can't go with you to the hearing!"
Harry blinked. Did she just say what I think she said? "What do you mean?" He began to feel even more panicked. While people assured him that Dumbledore would be there, Harry was already planning how he was going to pack his trunk for home and face the Dursleys for the rest of his life with no magic. He was hoping, at least, with Hermione there he would be able to lighten the opposing side for a while, maybe even win. He knew that it wasn't his fault on that night, but with such a corrupted government (that seemed to hate him quite a lot) he knew that there was no way that he could win.
And now, he had no hope. Hermione sniffed and dropped beside him on the bed. "I asked Dumbledore, and while he said that he would be delighted to bring along a student to observe the Wizengamot, your hearing is strictly need-to-know. Which means only the most important people will be there." She shook her head, brown curls flying. "I can't go, no matter what he says."
"W-what about an invisibility cloak?" He was clutching at straws, and they both knew it.
Hermione looked miserable. "How would I go there? Someone would feel it if I side-apparated, and Dumbledore seemed much to grave to allow me to go with him." Usually, Dumbledore would allow this sort of thing...to be sneaky in their own ways while he turned a blind eye...
"Oh." Harry's heart seemed to drop in his chest. He didn't even notice how Hermione began to hesitate on her words, especially when referring to herself. The Gryffindor bookworm bit her lip and played nervously with her fingers.
"Well...there might be one way." At this, Harry raised his head and gave her a blank look. Wasn't she just telling him that there was no way that she could go before?
Hermione continued. "I can't go, but the Decrees of Magical Binding states that if a member of the Wizengamot has any immediate blood relative, witness, or magical student, they are allowed to go to minor cases and take part if they wish."
"So there's no hope."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said in the sighing, patient way, "It's all written in old forms. Magical student? Apprentice? Dumbledore has one, remember?"
"Edward?" Harry said, incredulous. "I barely know the bloke! Besides, it says 'minor case', remember?"
"This is a minor case. A hearing for expulsion? It's nowhere near the amount of power you need to be able to enter a meeting for a murderer or user of one of the Unforgivable curses. Edward could go..." here, she continued reluctantly, "...but I'm not sure if he would, or if he would even be able to redirect the Wizengamot's favour."
"It's better than nothing," Harry reasoned in the end, after a pause of thinking. "Can't you — can't you like, teach him or something? Tell him what he needs to say?" When Hermione didn't answer, Harry said, "Come on! You can't be scared of the guy."
"We don't know him," said Hermione simply. "We don't know where he's from, what he's doing here, or if he's even telling the truth. He can't even speak English; Dumbledore's put on a long-lasting translation charm on him."
"So you are scared," Harry observed, filing away the language-barrier comment for later.
Hermione ignored him. "I'll try to talk to him, and see what he thinks about it. Maybe he's already read the book of Ministry structure...I remember it in the pile of books that was brought because I wanted to read it..." Harry rolled his eyes; even though she didn't verbally say it, he knew that she was more than hesitant to go and talk to the newcomer.
"I'll come, if you like," he offered.
She shook her head again. "No, it's alright. I'll talk to him myself. You won't be convicted, Harry."
Edward stared at Hermione uncomprehendingly, his face blank and lost. His arms were folded, and all throughout her harried explanation he had not moved an inch or changed his expression. When Hermione finished with a large breath of air, he told her flatly, "I have no idea what you just said."
She coloured. Her tone was decidedly contrite. "Would you mind going to Harry's hearing tomorrow? It's important, and Merlin knows that all of the Ministry hates him. They'll be biased about their final verdict."
"Hearing? Ministry?" He was completely over his head in wizarding terms. They sounded familiar, and Edward knew that he must've read them in a book. Oddly, something in his mind literally pulled — he recognized the feeling and pushed it back. "What's your friend in trouble for?"
"Underage magic."
"And that is a big deal...why...?"
Hermione huffed. "That question requires long hours of discussion and theoretical thinking, Mr. Elric," she said, not expecting him to completely understand her. After all, neither Ron nor Harry did, but to her surprise, the blond simply rolled his eyes.
"Then you can discuss it another time. I'm asking what the big deal is about me coming to your friend's hearing. Obviously, if he's in trouble, its for a good reason?" The last part came out more as a question than statement. He looked up, thinking to himself. "...something sounds wrong in that sentence."
"It's because Harry didn't deserve to be charged," Hermione said, frustrated. "There were Dementors in his neighbourhood — nasty, soul-sucking creatures — and there's only one spell that rebounds against them. Thankfully, Harry knew the spell well, and he performed it, saving his and his cousin's life from a near-soulless life. The Ministry, however, sees this as a breach of their Underage Magical Contract. Because of Harry's age and his status as the Boy-Who-Lived, they're putting an ever harder time on him."
Edward recalled the books that he had read on the Boy-Who-Lived. There had been many, citing the 'Dark Lord' Voldemort's most horrendous actions and a detail-by-detail explanation of the Hallowe'en that Voldemort had been defeated. Like they were actually there.
"Ever since the beginning of the summer, our wizarding paper The Daily Prophet has been saying that the Dark Lord hasn't returned, even though Harry saw him — and fought him — last year. At first, it was to calm the crowds down, but now they're getting borderline obsessive on trying to make everyone believe that he hasn't returned yet. There are insinuations that Harry is a liar in the most recent ones, that he's making all of it up. Anyone with a proper eye and mind can see it — it's only a matter of time before they call him an attention-seeker and liar outright."
That was a problem, Edward realized, but it wasn't his problem. So he continued in that flat expression of his. "So?"
"So? So, you being Dumbledore's apprentice, you can go in with him and provide an argument with the Wizengamot about his trial! It's going to be completely unfair, especially with Minister Fudge — " she cut herself off, looking grim.
"What's in it for me?" Edward suddenly asked.
"Wha—" Hermione was speechless. "What do you mean?"
"You can't expect me to do that just because you asked so," Edward said, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "This is politics you're talking about. Not my strongest suit. And you're not even giving me something that would constitute equal payment in return."
"P-payment?"
Edward sighed. "I live by many rules, and this is one of them: In order to obtain something, something of equal value must be lost. Meaning, you give what you get." He crossed his arms. "Your friend, Harry, is the Boy-Who-Lived; do you expect me to go to a hearing just because of that?"
Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Her cheeks turned a light pink.
"What if it was another student? What if it was that redhead friend of yours? Would you still ask me to go and defend him? Would you still go this far just to get him out of trouble." When she didn't answer, he smiled smugly. "My point is given. But I don't really care about your feelings on the matter; you want me to help your friend, what will you do to help me in return?"
Hermione paused and lowered her head, deciding not to look Edward in the eyes lest he figure out the workings of her inner thoughts. Molly had given Edward and Roy one of the more dilapidated rooms, but one of the most spacious ones. She took note of the many books that were on his bedside, her mind going miles a minute. She also took care of the notes that he left on the tableside, scribbled in a language made up of lines and boxes and characters.
And then she got it.
Hermione's face brightened in resolve as she looked back up at Edward, who had started to absentmindedly rub his right shoulder. "I know!" she said a tad bit loudly, causing him to jerk slightly in surprise. "You're studying about our wizarding world and culture, right?"
"Right..."
"Well, I bet you can't find most of your answers in those books." She nodded to the said pile distastefully. "All of those are Ministry standard, which means that you'll find nothing in them. Nowadays, the Ministry has been working to keep most of what's happening in the wizarding world to a minumum to not frighten the citizens."
"Which means they've been witholding information," Edward picked up quickly, frowning. He turned to the books then back at the bushy haired girl. "Go on."
Hermione smiled. "I have a ton of books that will help. With actual magical theories and arithmancy and anything that you might need, I have it. Plus, I can explain to you whatever you don't understand. I'm sure that we can work out something."
"Knowledge for knowledge," Edward summarized, something akin of respect in his eyes. "Fair play. You've got yourself a deal." He held out his hand, and Hermione shook it with a satisfied expression.
"When do you want to start on studying?" she asked, going straight to the topic. "Or rather, could I review all the terms and conditions of the hearing with you? Harry's hearing is tomorrow, and there should be no room for errors."
"The second," Edward said decisively. He walked over to a corner and picked up a leather-bound book, small against the rest. It was stuffed with papers and stick notes, and it seemed old. But the way Edward held it, close to his chest, told her that it was important. "I can always study the magical world later. It seems as though your friend is more important at the moment." Of course, he wasn't going to tell her that this helped many to his mission, seeing as how he needed to keep and eye on Harry.
"Thank you," said Hermione, eyes shining. She pressed her lips together in a grateful smile, and Edward had to wonder where the line between friendship started and ended with Harry. "Come with me — there are more informational sources in my room, and Harry's already told me what happened that night with the Dementors."
"Hn." Edward followed after her outside, when something hit him. "Wait. How am I supposed to go along? Will Dumbledore even take me along?"
Hermione hesitated. "Technically, you're allowed to go, being Dumbledore's disciple. It gives you the high advantage...I just don't know if Dumbledore will agree to it. It's a risk that I have to take, though."
Edward was silent for a while. Her words reminded him of another woman's, one whose hands were much rougher and whose eyes were much brighter.
"I have to do this, Edward. If I don't she's going to die."
"You don't know if it'll even work! What if something goes wrong? What if...what if she..."
A thin smile. "It's a risk I have to take, Ed."
"Alright," Edward said, surprising Hermione. He had been quiet for at least two minutes now, the only sound being their breathing and the moment needed to think over things. "We'll see tomorrow morning. If Dumbledore doesn't let me go, I'll tag along anyway."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, although she stared at him a little strangely. "Thank you again...you don't know how much this helps Harry..." Edward could read her gaze and her frown. While she was begging him to help before, now that he was giving his help up freely, she was getting suspicious. Edward had to watch himself around this girl; she was clever.
"We had a deal," he shrugged, using that as an excuse for his behavior. "I intend to see it through."
Hermione nodded. She knew the importance of knowledge the lengths people would go to get it. "Okay then. Follow me."
"I've got updates on the mission," was the first thing Edward said when Roy came back from his impromptu tour of some place called Diagon Alley with some of the other Order members. Mustang seemed tired from before, but he immediately became attentive, closing the door silently before taking his coat off.
"You should be more discreet," he started to say, but Edward's impatience cut him off again.
"There's still a week left until we get to this school, and I intend to use every minute of it," the blond informed him. "I've made a deal with one of the students — information for information," he echoed his earlier words. "It's a good deal."
"You make it sound so emotionless," Mustang mused. "What info could you possibly have that someone else would want?"
"It's actually a bit of politics. I just have to go to that shitty hearing tomorrow, and case solved. Apparently, the amount of importance that this person holds to that meeting and the amount of information I wish to obtain is equal."
"That must be one hell of a number."
"It is," Edward said wryly. "And it'll help too. I won't have to depend on these crappy books to give me information," He glared at the pile, which was previously stacked up neat and in alphabetical order, now in messes on his bed. Some where open, some weren't, and there were sheets of paper which Mustang recognized some Amestrian words in Edward's neat scawl and some glyphs that he didn't comprehend.
"Who's helping you?" Mustang asked, picking up a piece of paper and starting to go through the notes. He frowned on the first word. "And what language is this?"
"A girl named Herm-something." Edward stood up and snatched the paper out of Mustang's hands, giving him an irritable stare. "And don't read that. It's important. I doubt you can, anyway."
"Then warning me is completely pointless," Mustang snorted. "But really, what is that? Xingese? I didn't know that you were a polylinguist."
"It's Xerxian, but I do know Xingese. The scripts are similar. Those are the only languages I know Mustang." Edward rolled his eyes, causing his superior officer to smirk at him. The blond didn't know what was going through the other man's head, but Edward turned away and started to clean up his mess on the bed.
In the silence, he could suddenly feel his senses getting sharper. He could hear every breath that he and Mustang breathed in, like it was through a magnifier. His hands worked on their accord, feeling the paper — well, with one hand anyway — his fingers running over the edge of the rough paper. He bit his lip and felt a sort of grudging anxiety, like what one feels when they know they have to do something but is trying to hold it off as long as he or she could because they didn't like it.
Finally, Edward turned around to see Mustang sitting on the bed on his side of the room, patiently waiting. The blond felt vaguely annoyed, but then asked, "Alright, explain to me about all the politics and shit that I have to remember tomorrow."
Mustang's smirk only became wider. Edward resisted the familiar urge to punch it off his face.
.:.
to be continued.
12.29.12
