Automail Sorcery Chapter 4
Hey, folks, its me... again... with another update...
In honor of superbowl sunday. I'm not rooting for any particular team... The beer ads are the best part. (I love Bud's commercials, they make me laugh...)
I DON'T OWN. YOU DON'T SUE. ENJOY.Dear Sixth and Seventh Year Students,
This year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be requiring all sixth and seventh year students to take a course in Alchemic Self-Defense, taught by two new professors, Mr. Edward Elric and Mr. Roy Mustang. Please be sure to purchase the following:
-blackboard chalk in large quantities
-a Muggle level-one chemistry book
-parchment, quills, ink
-a Muggle Periodic Table of Elements
We look forward to seeing you on September the first.
Signed,
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress
"Can you believe this load of crap they're trying to stuff down our throats?" Draco Malfoy snorted, tossing the letter aside as he rummaged through his trunk on the Hogwarts Express. "Alchemy nonsense."
"I think it's interesting," his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, sniffed. "Alchemy is supposed to be a dead art. The fact that there are still those who practice it is proof that it's still being learnt and studied."
"And it could be a valuable weapon for the Master," Vincent Crabbe added.
"Don't talk about that here," Draco scolded, whacking Crabbe in the face with his letter. "Goyle's already being held under suspicion, I don't need you being held, too."
"Sorry," Crabbe said with a shrug.
"Idiot," Malfoy muttered.
"Why do you suppose we have two professors?" Pansy asked absently, her eyes flickering over the two names. "Isn't there usually only one teacher for each class?"
"That's a good question," Draco decided, his brow furrowing. "I suppose we'll have to investigate it. After all… Father will want to know."
"Your father, Draco," Pansy muttered. "Why is he so keen to know about every single little thing that goes on here?"
"I don't know, and I've learnt not to ask," Draco replied with a grimace. He vaguely remembered getting a lashing with the cane when he was ten by his father, who claimed that the boy "asked too many questions about pointless things".
Pansy looked up at him with curious pale eyes, then sighed somewhat dejectedly. "Why don't you ever talk to me about it?"
"Because you don't need to know. Drop it."
She looked slightly hurt, but let the subject go. "Alright."
Draco studied her for an instant before letting a brief smile cross his face. "Thank you, Pansy."
She smiled up at him.
Crabbe gagged.
"Do we still have to call him Professor Elric?" Ron wondered around. "I mean, he is our age, after all."
"Yes, of course, Ronald," Hermione exclaimed, looking up from her chemistry textbook. "Why wouldn't we? Just because he's our age, doesn't mean he's at the same level as us. He's a Major in his military, for Merlin's sake!"
"Besides that, how is he not on the same level?" Ginny asked curiously from her window seat.
"He just… he just isn't. There's something in his eyes," Hermione decided, turning ever-so-slightly pink. "Almost the same look Harry gets sometimes. Like he's seen things that he had no desire to in the past, as though he had seen more than he wanted to."
Ginny nodded in understanding. "So did that Colonel friend of his, I suppose. Though it didn't seem so much with him."
"They're both fairly young to be in the military," Ron mused aloud. "How do you think they managed to get those ranks at their ages?"
Ginny shrugged and Hermione said, "Who knows?"
Harry shifted in his seat, snoring ever so slightly.
The train compartment was fairly empty, filled with only Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and the three pets that the four kept. The countryside rolled by in the bright, sunny afternoon and the sun streamed in through the wide windows of the train car.
"All that aside," Hermione began, "I am curious as to why they called the class 'alchemic self-defense'."
"Maybe because we won't just learn alchemy?" Ginny suggested, somewhat shocked that the smartest person she knew could be so dumb. "Hence the 'self-defense'."
Ron laughed. "Even I knew that one, 'Mione!"
"But do you think either of them could honestly teach us how to defend ourselves with that?" Hermione pressed, her brow furrowing slightly. "Neither of them looked like they'd be much use in a fight."
"There's definitely more to them than they're telling us," Ron said, suddenly serious with a nod of his head.
Mustang surveyed the students filling the hall with great scrutiny, meticulously watching their each and every movement, particularly those with the green and silver crests on their robes, the students whom he was told would probably make trouble. None of these children looked like they knew the first thing about defending themselves, nor did they seem at all enlightened by the idea of anything but gossip and magic.
"What do you think, Mustang?" Edward asked from his seat beside the colonel.
"I think we have our work cut out for us, Fullmetal," the older alchemist replied, nodding at his own comment.
Edward snorted. "Sounds about right."
"Hello, there!" A new voice, a woman's, interrupted the two soldiers' conversation.
Both men looked around and saw a portly older woman with a huge smile and dark blue robes. Her frizzled hair stuck out at odd angles from under her pointed witch's hat.
"Good evening," Mustang said in English, turning on his charm and saluting.
"Evening," Edward muttered, following suit. He had been forced into the military uniform that had been given to him for special occasions. Apparently, according to Mustang, this counted.
"You must be the new professors," the woman said cheerily. "I'm Professor Sprout, I teach Herbology down in the greenhouses."
"Colonel Roy Mustang, I am a new alchemy professor," Mustang said, throwing a dazzling smile at the poor woman.
"Major Edvard Elric, also a new alchemy professor." Edward scowled in his superior officer's direction. Was he seriously flirting with a woman who had to be twice his age? That bastard… Hawkeye would not be happy if she ever found out…Edward smirked. At least now he had blackmail for when they returned home.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sprout said blushing and giggling at Mustang.
"And you," Edward said curtly. "T'ese are t'e students, no?"
"Yes, they are."
"And how old are t'ey?"
"First years are eleven years old, seventh years are seventeen."
"I see." Edward surveyed them as Mustang continued to flirt with the flustered professor. This would be a pretty piece of work, that was for sure. If Edward could keep up in a fight against his teacher at the age of nine, maybe ten, then these kids would certainly not stand a chance in real, legitimate hand-to-hand combat. But a thought hit him… This will be fun.
The students quieted down some and eventually, McGonagall stood up at the front of the hall to address them all. "Good evening," she said, "and welcome back to another year here at Hogwarts. Due to recent events, we will have Aurors guarding each entrance to the school and patrolling the hallways, as well as two new staff members who have pledged to do their best in the interest of your safety." She glared at the Slytherins ever so slightly as she said this last bit. "I would like to introduce Colonel Roy Mustang and Major Edward Elric."
There was uproarious applause and loud squeals from most of the female student body as Edward and Roy stood up, each saluting the students of the school of magic.
"My name is Roy Mustang, I am t'e Flame Alchemist," Roy said, winking in the direction of the squealing girls.
"My name is Edvard Elric, I am t'e Fullmetal Alchemist," Edward said, standing stock stiff. His introduction was met with squeals and giggles that echoed across the room.
The two sat down, still the complete focus of the girls sitting before them.
What exactly is so interesting? Edward wondered.
How I hate having to break their hearts… But Hawkeye's back home… Hm… Mustang had his tell-tale smirk on, going unnoticed by everyone.
McGonagall silenced the students with a wave of her hand. "Assisting our school nurse and Healer will be Winry Rockbell, a talented doctor."
Winry stood up from her seat at the end of the table beside the woman known as Madam Pomfrey and bowed, smiling graciously. This time it was the boys of the school that cheered loudly.
"There will be more to say later, but for now, tuck in," McGonagall sat down and, much to Edward, Roy, and Winry's surprise, the empty plates and goblets in front of them filled with food and drink.
Edward spotted rum and reached for it, grinning madly. "Yes, there's rum!" he exclaimed in Amestrian.
"You're underage," Mustang pointed out, also in his native language.
"Screw that, I'm gonna get sauced. Besides, I'm only underage here. You know I've been drinking since I was fourteen."
"Thanks to Breda and his hair-brained plans," Mustang said, smiling somewhat happily.
"That bastard's never gonna let me live it down."
"And neither will I, for that matter."
Edward scowled.
The meal went on rather uneventfully. The blonde alchemist surveyed the students as he shoveled food into his mouth and Mustang continued to flirt with the female professors. Winry and Madam Pomfrey chatted one about different ways to treat one ailment or another and the food was delicious, keeping his mind off of his brother, who sat all alone up in the library, reading his figurative heart out.
As soon as dessert was finished, Edward and Roy watched in amazement as food disappeared entirely from the plates and platters on the table.
"This magic crap is something else," Edward muttered quietly to his superior. "How are they doing it?"
"Got me. We'll have to look into it at some point."
"Got it."
McGonagall stood and gave a speech to the students, giving a brief overview of school policies and some new school rules to be enforced. "In lieu of recent events," she ended with, "each student must be in their common room by eight o' clock PM, sharp. While it may not protect you entirely from any attacks, it will certainly keep you much safer than wandering the corridors. Now, classes begin early tomorrow morning. Off to bed with all of you!" She nodded and the students took that as their signal to dismiss themselves.
Prefects gathered first years up into large herds and guided them out of the hall as Edward and Roy stood.
Edward flexed his metal limbs, yawning deeply. "Boy, I could use a nap," he muttered to nobody in particular.
"Dinner was delicious," Roy remarked as Winry approached.
"I love these robes," she exclaimed, twirling around in them. It was an old nurse's uniform from when Madam Pomfrey was a great deal younger, long and white with billowy sleeves and a hem that pooled on the ground. Her blue eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree as she smiled at Edward, who, despite himself, found himself smiling back.
"At least you get to wear something comfy," Ed said, tugging at the collar of his uniform with his automail hand. "These things itch like hell."
Winry laughed as Roy gave the younger officer a noogie. "At least you don't have to wear it every day," the war hero said wisely.
"Yeah, at least I don't have to look like a tool when I go to work," Ed agreed with a smirk.
"You little—"
"I suggest you head up to your quarters, Professors, Miss Rockbell." McGonagall was suddenly beside them, giving Edward and Roy a stern look. "Classes begin at nine-thirty AM, on the dot."
"Oh, damn," Ed cussed in Amestrian. "Too early!"
McGonagall gave him a slightly puzzled stare.
"Ve understand, madam," Roy said in English. "Ve vill be ready for classes."
"Very well. Goodnight, you three," Minerva said, nodding curtly and turning on her heel, gliding towards a door to a side chamber that Edward, Roy, and Winry assumed led to a set of stairs or something of the like.
"We might as well head up," Winry said wisely in Amestrian, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm beat."
"You and me both," Mustang said with a sigh.
Ed scoffed slightly. Wimps. Couldn't even stay up till ten thirty without feeling tired.
"Onwards," Mustang declared, grabbing each teenager's shoulder and guiding them across the hall and out the massive oak doors.
It seemed like a long trek up to the small apartment within the castle in which the Amestrians were to stay. It was on the fifth floor, down a hallway with scarcely-used classrooms, and had four bedrooms, a sitting room, a study, a bathroom, a small kitchenette, a closet, and even a small workshop where Winry could focus on automail. All in all, it was a decent set-up for the four travelers.
Alphonse was already in the sitting room when the others returned, chatting amiably with a house elf while a book lay disregarded on his lap. While Alphonse asked about different sorts of magic used at the school, the elf, clothed in terribly-knitted, brightly coloured jumpers and hats, would respond enthusiastically and with reckless abandon. It would have been comical to see a foreigner stuck in a suit of armor talking to a tiny, poorly-dressed house elf had they all not been so tired.
"Going to bed, Al," Ed said in Amestrian, raising his automail hand in acknowledgement. "G'night."
"Night, Brother," Al replied then nodded at Winry and Mustang who exchanged pleasantries with him.
Edward slid into his room and collapsed onto the bed, thoroughly exhausted. He had not realized how tired he was until he finally entered the small apartment. Damn, I'm loosing my touch. Whatever happened to being able to pull three all-nighters in a row? His eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep within minutes, not even dreaming at all.
Roy Mustang, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
He lay awake, staring at the stone ceiling mutely. His overlarge pajamas rode up to his chest under the thick woolen blankets and his hands folded under his head. He kept his eyepatch on out of mere habit from falling asleep in his office or with a woman. (No woman ever wants to see her date's burned out eye. Ever.)
The stone room he was in reminded him of the barracks that the Amestrian soldiers had taken shelter in during the Ishballan War of Extermination. The night outside was eerily quiet compared to the hustle and bustle of Central City, reminding him of the somehow silent nights of Ishbal, where both sides would be plotting their next move. Nothing but the hooting of owls from the Owlry and the howling of wild animals from the forest broke the serenity.
Mustang shut his eye, hoping for sleep to overcome him, and so it did.
He dreamed he was home in Amestris. He was with Hawkeye, Havoc, and the rest, just like any other day. And then he was called into duty. He was suddenly alone in a war zone, somehow, with a pistol in his hand and his finger on the trigger. And Winry Rockbell was there, begging, pleading, screaming, "No! No! Don't do it! Don't kill them! Kill me instead! Me!" Mustang was relentless, keeping a steel face on, knowing that she was trying to protect the enemy. He had to eliminate the enemy. And then he saw the enemy themselves: Edward and Alphonse, Riza Hawkeye and the rest of his team, Doctor Marcoh, Maes Hughes… He had to kill them. It was his orders. I can't do this! His mind screamed in protest, but his body paid no attention. He raised the handgun, aimed, and fired. One by one, they fell.
"You bastard."
"You'll kill anyone under orders."
"What kind of leader would you be?"
"You killed my daughter… My baby girl…"
"Papa!"
"Where's my brother? Where'd he go? I can't leave him! I can't!"
"Don't shoot!"
"God will punish you!"
The voices of fallen Ishballans kept coming back, screaming at him, pleading with him, cursing him. He saw them, half-burned corpses, eyes white, approaching. And he couldn't move.
For the first time in a long while, Roy woke up in a cold sweat with tears burning his eye. He truly was a monster.
Hermione Granger, for once in her short life, was not the only person excited for classes to begin the next morning.
Girls all over the school were whispering excitedly as they compared schedules, squealing in delight when they found that they had Professors Elric and Mustang that very morning. Boys groaned as their girlfriends and sisters excitedly began taking out their makeup and writing "LOVE YOU" and such on their eyelids, planning on blinking often in class.
"What do those bozos have that I don't?" Seamus Finnegan whined, poking half-heartedly at his eggs with a fork. "I'm better looking than both of 'em put together."
"You wish," Parvati Patil said, staring dazedly at Professor Elric. "They're both so handsome and rugged…"
Dean Thomas scoffed. "Rugged my arse."
"They are!" Lavender Brown insisted, frowning at Dean.
"Don't try arguing with them, mate," Ron said wisely. "Trust me. Ginny's been talking about him all night."
Dean and Seamus groaned.
Harry silently took a piece of toast from the diminishing plate in the middle of the table. His green eyes were slightly downcast at the mention of Ginny ogling another guy. However, he quickly pushed the feeling away, knowing that she was better off that way.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville Longbottom asked, pausing in his methodic "cut-then-eat-the-sausage" routine. "You don't look so good."
"Didn't sleep well," Harry half-lied.
Neville didn't seem to buy it, but dropped the subject. "If you say so."
Harry turned back to his kippers, not really paying much attention to the conversations around him. This morning he had potions with Slughorn, and Alchemic Self-Defense, and Transfiguration. Joy.
