He knew, he knew he was going to be in for some serious shit when he saw the horses.
Ed grimaced at the horses. If someone had told him that these horses were the result of the bastard Shou Tucker's dreaded chimeric experiments, then Ed would've believed them with no doubt. They looked like a sinister mix of horse and some reptilian lizard - they had a sleek but thin and skeletal physique, and dragon-like faces. Large black leathery wings sprouted from their backs, and Ed had to wonder if this horse - if he could call it a horse - was some mutated form of a unicorn or winged pegasus (if magic was real, then why not these creatures? Ed thought that was reasonable justification). Like normal horses, their large manes swung around in the air, but besides the mane, Ed wondered if they were related to horses at all.
He was not scared of the 'horses', but they had sent a small shiver up his spine. It was like something out of a nightmare, or horses just emerged from the flames of hell. Ed glanced around; the other students did not seem bothered by these 'horses' at all, simply just stepping into the stagecoaches without a care in the world, talking about whatever. His curiosity got the better of him. He lightly tapped Ron's shoulder, and pointing at the 'horses', and asked: "What... those things? Look like horse."
"Horse?" Ron looked around. "Where?"
"You not see it?" Ed directed Ron's gaze to where he was pointing, at those monster 'horses', but he simply blinked in confusion, even squinting. "Mate, what the hell are you talking about...?"
Shaking his head, Ed replied, "No mind, no mind..." and he left Ron to Harry. He went to Hermione, who had said the same thing - she didn't know what he had been talking about. Ed cursed. Was his sight that bad? If Mustang knew about this, he'd laugh his ass off. Was he going mad, though? He doubted that. He could see those horses clearly, as plain as day. They were there. So why weren't others seeing it?
"You're not going mad, you know," a dreamy voice behind Ed startled him. That strange girl, Lovegood, smiled at him. Her reply made Ed wonder if magic could read minds. "I can see them too."
"Horse... thing?" Ed pointed at them again, and she nodded. "I can see them. They're black, and skinny. Big wings. Very ugly, I say." She wrinkled her nose, then waved goodbye as she went over to Harry, and Ed heard that she had said the same things to him. So only a few people can see them? Ed wondered. Why? How? This is damn weird... But hell, does it explain how the coaches can fly... I didn't want to see some Cinderella coach fly by its own with magic.
Far back away, he could hear a feminine voice call up, "First-years here, please! First-years line up to me please! All first-years, please come over here!"
Despite not knowing too much about Hogwarts, Ed remembered he was supposed to be in fifth year. He was tempted to go follow the voice, however. What happened there?
He caught up with Harry and his friends, and boarded the coach with them. It rattled as it slowly took off. Despite the fact different students were in different carriages in the air, Ed could hear the happy chattering from outside. He didn't bother joining in the conversations the group had though, instead staring blankly outside the window. They mostly talked about this teacher named 'Hagrid', and Ed figured that the voice that he had heard calling for first-years was currently replacing the job for this Hagrid person.
The chatter still lingered in the air as they landed and exited the carriage, and Ed nodded approvingly of the large castle in front of him. Not even any structure back in Amestris could equal to the cone-shaped roofs of the towers that made up the castle. There were large rocks at the base, but the height, through Ed's calculations, looked as if it was seven storeys tall. The foundations looked extremely old - it had greatly reminded Ed of the medieval castles for royalty that he had read in history books, but despite its ancient age, it looked sturdy, and ready to stand for a thousand years more. But Ed shook his head at the pointy roofs. Too. Much. Pointy. Roofs. Did castles have that much pointy roofs? If so, he didn't like it.
The hundreds, maybe thousands - Ed didn't know the exact number - headed towards the large doors of the castle, and he decided to move forward, lest he be trapped in the oncoming crowd. He ignored the glances of the different groups of students, in different colours of ties - red, blue, yellow and green, and some whispered to themselves, staring at Ed as he passed, but more at Harry, whispering almost menacingly, as if they had to put in some more dirt on him - some outrageous rumours and gossip, just like what some people - mostly those who were not in favour of the military back in Amestris - did at Ed and Al when they had found out they were working for the military at their ages, 'selling their souls to the devils', Ed had heard one say about him.
He quickly learned the place where they had entered was called the Entrance Hall (Ed nodded sarcastically at their creative choice of name), was ablaze with torches to his surprise, and there was now deathly silence - if not the occasional mutter or whisper - in the Hall except for the combined loud sound of footsteps. He raised his eyes at the four long tables spread along the Hall - for the four houses, he guessed. But he was extremely surprised, and wondered how every student would fit on the table comfortably. Ed did not want to be squished, especially on his first day.
The ceiling was the same black-blue colour as the colour of the sky outside; if Ed hadn't looked closely, he would have never thought there was a ceiling at all. It was full of tiny dots that looked like stars. Magic, maybe? Ed guessed mentally. After all, no-one, no-one, would be able to do a masterpiece ceiling like that which resembled the real sky exactly... right?
He followed Harry and his friends - now just Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville - and took his seat with them and the other red-tied students. He had stayed away from them at Grimmauld Place, but now, shit, he had to stay close to them for the body-guarding mission. Damn it. Some students swapped looks at Ed, then at each other, then began whispering, but Ed didn't care. He had seen too much of this to even bother. Out of boredom and curiosity, just like back at Grimmauld Place and the flying knife embedded on the dining table, he poked the candles floating midair above the table. They simply rushed away speedily, which made Ed smirk. He did this several more times to other candles, and he found it a little funny to do this as well. In the end, the other candles made sure to steer clear of Ed, which ended his little game.
Taking a moment to absorb in his surroundings, Ed widened his eyes at the things. They... no, they couldn't be. GHOSTS?! Ed blinked - once, twice, three times, four - then concluded that they were real... ghosts, which were only supposed to exist in stories, wandering around through tables, floating through the fucking walls, conversing normally to students, who acted as if this was a normal sight for them. He bit his lip and shook his head. He then moved his gaze towards somewhere else.
He glanced over at the table at the front, and he noticed a group of adults - Ed guessed they had to be teachers of the magic school - and he noticed Dumbledore - spectacles, beard, wand and all. There was also the black-haired and greasy-haired teacher in a black robe; Ed remembered him vaguely from his first day with the wizards and witches. The others he didn't know. He thought that he would know about them soon enough. But what caught the Fullmetal Alchemist's eye the most was the one sitting uncomfortably at the end of the table. His pointed hat was in front of him - of course he wouldn't wear it. It was embarrassing. He wore plain black robes, and Ed could faintly see a small pen in his hand. Mustang looked so uneasy over there, Ed almost wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, he simply laughed in his head.
"Hey," Harry's voice was louder than the whispered conversations he'd just had with his friends so it made Ed jump, "That's the woman from my trial! The Ministry lady!" He pointed.
Following Potter's gaze, Ed glanced around and noticed a squat little woman with short and curly light brown hair, wearing clothes in all shades of pink under a cardigan, which clashed with the dark colours of the other teachers' robes, and the whole Hall in particular. He wrinkled his nose at her, but he wasn't entirely sure why. She looked fairly ugly - her face resembled one of a toad's. She only sat a few seats away from Mustang, yet she kept on sneaking glances at him. She was one of those stereotypical old aunties or grandma - but Ed wondered if anyone's aunt or grandma could look as ugly as her.
"Look," Ed heard a small girl point to the front, "the first-years are here."
Then there was silence. The chatter that had began from the stagecoaches (maybe even from the magic train, Ed thought) faded away, dissolved into nothing but silence. The reason was that a small group of young children in plain black robes had appeared, standing in a straight line, looking either shy, confident or scared as hell, Ed noticed. They were all lead by an old-looking woman who looked familiar - wasn't she the one who escorted Mustang out of Grimmauld Place and to Hogwarts? She carried a small stool, which was being sat on by a rather ancient hat that looked extremely old - maybe older than Mustang? Ed smiled at the thought. In her other hand, was a large roll of parchment.
Those near Ed looked like they could barely breathe as the stool was set down. What was going to happen next? The whole congregation, students and adults alike, turned their heads slowly towards the stool. Then slowly, the hat started to lift itself up, and begin to sing.
Ed simply stared.
A hat.
A singing hat.
An old, singing, fucking hat.
No.
No.
They could not be serious.
But there it was, in front of Ed's eyes.
A hat. Singing.
"In times of old when I was new,
And Hogwarts barely started,
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted..."
Ed listened carefully, and he heard lyrics of what most likely told the story of Hogwarts' history of the four founders: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff... that was all the four houses, wasn't it? - and their choices of students.
Then it took a darker turn - the story of how a fight had made Slytherin depart from the 'founders four', and the 'clash of friend on friend'. It warned the students of several things, Ed noted, telling the audience to be careful and cautious, and asking the school to unite together against 'external, deadly foes.' There was a large silence, and then the whole assembly turned silent for a few moments, then burst into applause. Whispers around Ed made him aware that the song that had been sung was usually not the norm for them.
Then the old-looking female teacher stepped up, and looked at the large piece of parchment she had held under her arm when she led the students in. She began to call names. The first had shuffled up, and placed the hat on his head, and after a short period of time, the hat had yelled "GRYFFINDOR!", gaining applause from the red house.
Ed noticed that the activity was repeated again and again; a name would be called, and a young child would come out of the line and sit down on the stool, placing the hat upon their head, and wait for any period of time, whether short or long, until either 'GRYFFINDOR', 'SLYTHERIN', 'HUFFLEPUFF' or 'RAVENCLAW' would be declared to them, which resulted in applause from the house the student was now a member of. He had gotten bored of this halfway; he even took a glance at Mustang, who had been paying attention to this until a few minutes ago, but now was struggling to keep his eyes open.
Finally, thank God, it was done, as the line became one person only who had gotten sorted to the yellow house, and Dumbledore stood up, stretching out his hands in welcome, a large warm smile on his face, and any whispers disappeared immediately.
"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There will be some speeches and some newcomers we would like to introduce later, but not now. Now is a time of feasting and food! Let the feast begin!"
Ed ate at top speed, taking a little of everything, as he did with the candies and sweets on the train. He never knew how hungry he was until he had seen the food magically appear on the tables, in front of the excitedly anticipating students. So far, his favourite had been chips, sausages and gravy with potatoes. The least would have to be the humbugs. It had been too much of a peppermint-y taste for him.
He was about to place lamb and pork chops onto his plate when he felt his left arm turn instantly cold, as if his arm had just been suddenly plunged in a bucket of freezing water, with temperatures below the human endurance amount. Ed turned to move his arm, and he noticed that a... ghost from earlier had decided to join them.
"Oh, hello there," he bowed his head slightly, then sighed as he saw the meat and sauce on Ed's plate. "You must be enjoying your meal, good sir." He sighed sadly, and Ed looked at him. "Would you no like food, then?" He didn't care whether his English was acceptable or not. The... ghost simply looked at him, and sighed, still staring at the food. "Ah, well, you should already see that I'm a ghost. I'm dead. I can't eat. I haven't eaten for centuries."
Ed nodded, trying to ignore the fact that the ghost had called himself 'dead', and attempted to shove away the millions of other questions and thoughts instantly entering his mind. Please... please go away... Despite moving his arm, being near the ghost felt really uncomfortable. It was as if the left side of his body at taken a trip to the Northern Briggs military fort wearing only thin apparel. The ghost idea made him uncomfortable as well. He tried not to wince as the ghost introduced himself as 'Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington', and held out his hand to shake, questioning Ed about why he had not donned the Hogwarts uniform. Hoping not to be rude, he took it as well as he could. Shaking hands with a ghost was something Ed didn't like. It was definitely something he wouldn't forget for a long fucking time. The ghost, Nicholas, then turned to talk with Harry and his friends, leaving Ed alone, and pleased.
He looked at the ghost again, shivers creeping up his chest. No, he would not focus on that... thing.
Mustang seemed to be doing better now, filling himself up with the food that had been presented in front of him. Teachers around him talked to him, but Ed was too far away to hear anything. He saw Mustang do a slight nod, then resume eating. Boring.
After what seemed like an eternity, the plates and utensils and food were magically cleared away, simply disappeared in thin air, and Ed vaguely heard Hermione say, "They're going down to the house-elves. Slave labour..." and Dumbledore had began to stand up again, clearing his throat and clapping his hands twice for silence.
"There, there!" he said. "I hope you all have had a fulfilling meal to satisfy those growling stomachs of yours. Before I announce the start-of-term notices, I would like to announce the newcomers coming this year.
"First, I would like to talk to you all about the country of Amestris." His glasses almost twinkled in the light, and Ed paid even more attention to his speech. "It is located a little far from here - close to Asia, but located a little south of Europe. It is known for its military prowess and alchemy." To Ed's surprise, some students moved closer to hear more of what Dumbledore was going to say. "Amestris is a country full of alchemists, and it is known to most of the grown wizard community that Amestris' alchemists and governments are currently at uneasy relationships with each other. After the Triwizard Tournament, where we had stretched out to two other schools from two other countries, the Ministry-" Dumbledore looked behind him, and Ed noticed that his glance had been directed towards the ugly pink lady - "- and the Amestrian military parliament has decided to strengthen our relationships and improve them. Amestris has been so kind and willing to lend two of her top alchemists for Hogwarts for the duration of this school year."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny with her friends gave Ed a look. It made him annoyed. Stop looking at me... Don't look at me, for fuck's sake...
Damn wizards.
"One of them will be Edward Elric, an alchemist attending Hogwarts' fifth year to learn about the education and our culture, as well as be a diplomatic to improve the standing between wizards and alchemists. Please stand up, Mr. Elric."
It made him annoyed, and he didn't want to, but one icy - no, fiery - stare from Mustang forced him to slowly stand up, and everyone from his table stared at him. No, it wasn't just his table. The whole school stared at him as he stood - maybe a thousand people, maybe more - looked at him as he stood, but Ed didn't bother looking back. He simply stared at the flying candles. Don't look at me... he thought desperately. Come on... After a few more seconds, he allowed himself to sit down, but Ed suspected that just because he had sat down it meant the stares had stopped. Many stopped looking at him as he took his seat once again, but some still did, some craning their necks to look at him, some starting whispers in the crowd.
There was no point caring about it. Damn.
"Our second alchemist will be a member of the Hogwarts staffing for the duration of this year. Mr. Roy Mustang will be here as an assistant to Defence Against the Dark Arts, teaching a little about alchemy as well. Mr. Mustang, please stand up."
Ed saw the Flame Alchemist shift a little in his seat, then like Ed, reluctantly stood. The young heads of the school turned to him, and he stood straight like a soldier should, and he gave his head a small incline, almost like a bow, then two nods. "Mr. Mustang will appear in your Defence classes as a fellow teacher, so please treat him like one for the remainder of the year," Dumbledore said. "Please give our two new guests respect and their own space, but also interact with them and befriend them. Thank you."
Interact?! That was the last thing Ed wanted - for even more students to go up to them, talk to them, ask him for a tutorial in alchemy. No way in hell was Ed going to do that. His mission was to body-guard Potter, and that was it. Keep him out of trouble. Not befriend people as he pleased. It irritated him. What the hell, wizards. Damn you. There was lukewarm applause for him and Mustang as Mustang took his seat, and the applause completely died as Dumbledore announced the next changes of staffing - a new teacher named Grubbly-Plank, who was to temporarily take over the position of the subject 'Care of Magical Creatures' (which seemed like a practical animal lesson, Ed thought, maybe something Al would've liked), and Umbridge, the new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Ed turned to the pink ugly toad lady. No way was she going to be a new teacher. Damn. He did not join the unenthusiastic applause that followed, simply grimacing at the beam the pink lady - Umbridge - was trying to give her students.
When the applause died a few moments later, Dumbledore continued talking about trials for this 'quidditch' shit. It seemed a lot like a team sport, how Dumbledore had said it, but whatever was going to happen next, or the next general announcement, the students never heard. Even the clearing of Umbridge's throat made Ed dislike her even more, but he wasn't sure why. It had been a habit of his. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad. She stood, and Dumbledore moved to the side, and began to talk.
One damn thing that made Ed dislike her even more was how Umbridge treated everyone as little children on their first day of kindergarten. Her voice was high-pitched and what some would call 'girlish'. She continued on to talk about the damn Ministry of Magic, and their 'care' for education here at Hogwarts. Stupid show-off, Ed thought spitefully as she bowed to each and everyone of the teachers. She hesitated, however, with Mustang at the end, who gave a slight incline of his head. She continued talking, and Ed began to drift off to sleep, his paying attention to the speech drifting away, probably back to Amestris...
He snapped awake to the clapping of both the teachers and students, both unenthusiastic and diluted like the previous applause for Umbridge before. Dumbledore continued on with his speech, about trials for 'quidditch.' But whatever the heck did that pink toad lady mean? Ed wondered thoughtfully, despite he had gone to sleep, he had heard a few phrases that made him confused: 'perfecting whatever needs to be perfected', 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.' Well, that was stupid, Ed thought in distaste.
Suddenly, he heard Hermione speak louder than what she had during her previous conversations, her words answering the question Ed was thinking about: "The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."
Harry headed over to his dormitory, Neville and Elric following close behind. Elric. His bodyguard. It was "fucking depressing", as Ed had said a few weeks ago, on his first night back at Grimmauld Place. How would he bodyguard anyway? What would he do? Protect him from danger? Harry almost laughed. He was fully capable of protecting himself and his friends. He didn't need a bodyguard his age to do it all for him. Then again, he was working for the military. A soldier. So maybe his expertise in the field of battle was useful enough for Elric to tag along.
He waved at Dean Thomas, and turned to do the same at Seamus, but he simply kept on putting up posters for his bedside. Elric simply stared, then Harry pointed at the empty bed at the side. "I think that's yours," Harry said. "I dunno how that bed ended up there, it wasn't there the last four years I was here, it's most likely for you. I think those are your stuff on the bed-"
Elric simply nodded, then went to his new accommodation. He sat on his bed, then patted it, and Harry was sure this was to check its comfortableness. Dean watched him as he did so. Seamus had stopped putting up his posters of flying Quidditch players to stare at Elric, who looked up and frowned, clearly aware of the stares he was receiving. There was silence as Elric and the wizards took out their own things and personal objects to set up the beds they would be sleeping in for the next ten months.
Then Dean, thank God, went up to Elric, most probably to break the uneasy silence, and he waved. The Amestrian shifted uncomfortably as Dean smiled warmly at him and said, "Hi."
Elric mumbled something soft in response, then shook his head, cleared his throat, and said louder, but still fairly soft, with his thick accent: "Hello."
"Hey there. Edward Elric... right?" At his nod, Dean went on: "Welcome to Hogwarts. You'll love it here. It's great you chose this house, though. Gryffindor. The lions. The scarlet red and gold house. Great choice!"
Elric nodded, and Harry swore that he could hear the words, "Choice. Yes, yes, yes. Choice. My choice."
Dean and Seamus, however, did not seem to hear him, and Dean continued: "I guess, you went with him -" he pointed at Harry - " - so you know already that he's Harry Potter. Heck, I doubt you needed to even meet him to know his name. Well, I'm Dean Thomas. Fifth year. The guy over there is Seamus. Say hi, Seamus."
Seamus, for some reason refusing to meet Harry's eye, braved a small smile at Elric and waved, then resumed the making of his bed and the positioning of his posters. Then Elric suddenly stood, pyjamas on one arm, and muttered that he needed to use the restroom.
"So, you lot," Dean said, as he went back and resumed placing up West Ham posters by his bedside. "How was your holiday? Mine was fine. Hopefully it was better than Seamus here, he was just telling me," he said.
"Why, what happened?" Neville pressed on, stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia.
Seamus did not look at Harry. Instead, he completed his quest of putting up Quidditch posters and the mission of preparing his bed, and grabbed his pyjamas from his trunk. Finally, after a long silence, without looking at Harry, he said quietly, "Me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts."
"Why?" Harry asked. To his surprise, and his oncoming anger, he realised that it had been because of him. The damned slander in the Daily Prophet, which Seamus' fucking mother believed. His heart began to pick up pace, like a runner in a marathon about to come first place, as he kept on explaining that his mother didn't like him, or the Headmaster, for that matter. Angrily, Harry kicked open his trunk, harshly through his pyjamas down on his bed, and stuffed his robes in his trunk with great force. He felt a sting on his knuckle, but his anger made sure that it meant little to him. Why? WHY?! Why did no-one believe that Voldemort was back? Why did everyone believe the lies the Ministry had told him about? It - wasn't - fair.
Seamus was quiet, watching Harry thoughtfully as he did all this. "Well... look... you know..." he seemed to struggle to find the words. "What really happened with Cedric Diggory and all, at the Tournament..."
Harry stopped. The next words he had said, they had simply slipped out of his mouth. He hadn't meant to, but his temper was creeping its way up his throat and towards his mouth. "Just read the Daily Prophet, won't you, just like mother. It shows the truth. Go back home and read it with your mother for bedtime."
Seamus stood from his bed. "Don't you dare insult my mother like that," he snapped.
"I'll do it to whoever calls me a liar."
It had quickly escalated into a heated fight, Harry insulting Seamus and his mother, releasing his anger out at him, and Harry was about to yell at him, like he had at Ron and Hermione back at Grimmauld Place, when Ron himself came in, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?"
Thank God, Ron was able to shut Seamus up, and Harry was thankful, for the first time, for the authority the prefect had. A final noise came from Seamus' mouth, one of spite and contempt and a little hate, and he placed himself on his bed, and harshly pulled the hangings shut - that was the last they heard from him for the rest of the night. He was also thankful that Neville stood up for him, and said that he and his grandmother believed in him and Dumbledore, even cancelling their subscription to the stinking Prophet. It made Harry a little pleased. At least he had someone outside of the Order who believed him and didn't call him some nutter or a liar.
Elric came in through the door, now wearing plain blue pyjamas, his black clothes and red trench coat slung over his arm, and said, "Heard shouting. Something bad?"
"No," Harry said, laying himself on the bed. "Just some people who think I'm mad. Some stinking lies people are believing. But other than that, no, nothing."
There was a small silence, and Dean, who had been nervously watching the whole event from his four-poster, sighed, and said, "Well, that was eventful, wasn't it? Let's call it a night."
Hermione was rapidly taking down notes on her roll of parchment as Professor Binns talked on and on about the giant wars that had greatly impacted the wizarding (and some Muggle) communities.
She had to admit, that yes, Binns' voice was a little of a monotonous, deadpan, (and maybe a little soporific) drone, but that was no reason, she thought, no reason to disrespectfully not pay attention or fall asleep, which was what her friends, Harry and Ron, and basically the whole class, did. The sun shone from the windows, giving a warm temperature inside the classroom, and Hermione clicked her tongue disapprovingly at her peers as they either fell asleep or began to do other activities within five minutes. Besides, giant wars was an interesting topic. She thoroughly enjoyed learning about the two different sides, and the outcomes of each event.
She glanced at Edward, who had decided to sit in the very back corner, rather than go sit with her, Harry and Ron. His History of Magic textbook was standing up, open on his table, but Hermione suspected that he was not doing any work or copying the textbook at all - after all, hiding himself and his leisure behind the textbook was something many students did out of sheer boredom in Binns' class. She wasn't able to see what Edward was exactly doing, especially because of the book and his long golden bangs, but she noticed the piece of parchment being written on, and a small book, maybe. Was he taking notes from another book on another subject? Hermione sighed.
When the three-quarters-of-an-hour-long period was finished, the whole class rushed out of the door. Hermione scolded her two friends for sleeping throughout the lesson. I guess they'll never learn, both figuratively and literally, Hermione thought sadly, but that thought dissolved as Ron had called her 'cleverer' than they were.
The three headed out to the courtyard, being lightly sprinkled with a drizzle, meeting Cho Chang along the way.
"Where did Edward go?" Hermione said, then she dropped her voice volume so that no-one but the three of them could hear, "Isn't he your bodyguard? Shouldn't he be staying close to you?"
"I prefer my personal privacy not being invaded, thanks, Hermione," Harry said coldly. Then he sighed. "Besides, it's just the first day. Give him a damn break." The bell rang, and Hermione heard Ron and Harry groan; the next subject was Potions, with Professor Snape. Hermione may not have liked Snape's attitude towards the Gryffindors, especially towards Harry, and his show of favouritism towards the Slytherins, especially towards Harry, but Potions had been an interesting subject unto itself. Besides, it was an important subject for OWL. She couldn't fail it now.
"Sit down," Snape said softly, and she, Harry and Ron headed towards the back tables. She noticed Edward enter last... after the three people she disliked: Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. They seemed to be talking to him, Edward simply staring at him. Harry and Ron noticed this too.
"What the hell is Elric doing with those sons of bitches?" Ron hissed, and Hermione glared.
"He doesn't seem to be so comfortable with them, though," Harry noted, and Hermione found out that he was right. He shifted uncomfortably, and as soon as they had all entered the classroom, he walked at a quicker speed, away from the Slytherins, and took his place next to Neville in the middle of the classroom. He had reached into his trunk and brought out his book 'Magical Drafts and Potions.' Silence had fallen in the dungeons, and it was if everyone had even stopped breathing to avoid trouble from the Potions Master himself.
"I think a reminder to all before the commencing of this lesson," Snape said quietly, as he walked over to his desk. "As you all know, your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams are quickly approaching." Hermione's hand trembled, and she almost dropped her quill. "They will occur in June next year. It is a very important examination, where you will be tested on five years' worth of knowledge of the composition and use of several potions." One thing that Hermione noticed was that at the words five years' worth of knowledge, just a few tables down, Edward froze stiff. Hermione could relate. OWL year was the worst year to be an exchange student. Especially when you knew almost nothing about anything in the magical world. Snape continued, saying that he had expected the whole population of the class to achieve at least an 'Acceptable' in his test, sneaking scary glares at Neville which made Hermione frown. She frowned even more when Snape looked at Harry, saying to the entire class that he would only accept the best of the best in his classes, and most, in Snape's words, "will certainly be saying goodbye."
He waved his wand, and instructions appeared on the board. Snape went on to explain that this OWL-level potion was called the Draught of Peace - Hermione was almost tempted to put up her hand to explain to the class that its purpose was to calm anxiety, soothe someone from panic and stress and pacify agitation. She sat up straighter, scanning the list on the blackboard, and listening with full attention to Snape's words. "You have an hour and a half... start."
The whole class stood, and Hermione looked up at the board as she took the ingredients she needed. This is going to be a hard potion, she thought. It's a good thing I read about it in our Potion book during the holidays. Powdered moonstone... syrup of hellebore... powdered porcupine quills, powdered unicorn horn...
She noticed Edward looking around the ingredients, muttering something under his breath. Hermione, taking a glance at Snape, who had been staring at the Slytherins and praising their 'perfect preparation', and then guided Edward towards the correct ingredients. He muttered something softly in another language, his mother tongue, then whispered, "Thank you," then he quickly shuffled away. He seemed a little uncomfortable as he prepared the contents.
Hermione accurately measured the contents and quantities, in the correct order, she hoped, then mixed them. She wiped some perspiration off her brow - though she knew exactly what to do, it was still a complicated potion. A light silver vapour rose from her cauldron, and as Snape said that this was supposed to be happening to the potion, she mentally congratulated herself for following the instructions. She looked at Harry's. His cauldron was releasing large amounts of grey steam - he forgot the hellebore, Hermione thought. Ron's wasn't any better - he was looking worried, and green sparks were spitting out. "Is this right? Is this supposed to happen?" he asked her in desperation, and then let out a string of curses that his mother wouldn't have approved of.
Now Snape was heading towards the Gryffindors. Hermione craned her head a little to take a glance at Edward's potion, where Snape was - a light silvery vapour was rising out of the air, but Snape simply clicked his tongue at Edward's potion disapprovingly.
"So, Mr. Edward Elric," he drawled, and some students stopped their potion-making to see whether Snape had good or bad words for him, "I see you are transitioning into Hogwarts well, I suppose? Try not to cause any... trouble while you are attending this school. You would not be doing your country a favour by leaving a bad impression of it here, wouldn't it?" Edward, who had not been looking at Snape and instead on his own potion, simply nodded.
When Snape left his table, Hermione noticed that the potion had been too blue. She suspected too much moonstone.
She resisted her urge to shake her head angrily as Snape pointed out Harry's mistake in front of the whole class, and with a wave of his wand, the potion simply disappeared cleanly away, vanished into thin air as if Harry had not attempted to create the Draught of Peace at all. Harry bit back his lip - trying to keep back any insults or colourful words in front of Snape.
When the bell rang, and Snape had given them their homework (a twelve-inch essay on the properties of moonstone), the whole class cleared out of the dungeons, Gryffindor looking pleased. Harry, however, looked very angry.
"Zero marks?!" he spluttered when they had left the dungeons. "Neville's was worse than mine, yet he gave me zero marks?!"
"Don't worry," Ron reassured. "Mine smelt horrible, I think I'll be getting a minus ten."
Harry sighed, looking at his timetable. "We have Divination next."
"See you, then," Hermione said, and gave a reassuring smile to Harry. "Don't worry about Snape. He just doesn't like you-"
"Well done, Sherlock-"
"- and you'll do perfectly fine in OWL, if you work hard."
She waved to Harry and Ron, and headed the other way to her first class of the year, of her favourite subject - Arithmancy.
Roy sighed as he flipped through his timetable.
Thank God, Dumbledore had given him plenty of free time for Mondays. It was good.
However, after the lunch hour, he was expected to be Umbridge's assistant for Defence Against the Dark Arts - fifth year, sixth year, and second.
Do I plan my lessons right now? Roy thought. What do I teach them? He was probably going to teach alchemy, maybe. The basic laws. A little history. The definitions of significant terms and words used in alchemy. Heck, maybe even teach a little geography about Amestris. He placed his mug of hot tea down onto his office table. It had been very nice of Dumbledore to give him an office, albeit the smallest one - it had been the only one available.
He had almost spilled the tea onto the report he was going to send to Hawkeye once it was done. He had to hurry, the deadline was fast approaching - wait, hadn't the deadline passed already? By almost a week? - and he had only managed to write two paragraphs.
He hadn't seen too much of Fullmetal throughout the day. In fact, the last time he had seen the young alchemist was at last night's feast at the Gryffindor table, close to Potter, Weasley and Granger. Last night was uncomfortable, especially with Dumbledore asking him to sit with the teachers at the teachers' desk. Roy doubted that he was even a proper teacher. He was just a guest. An honorary guest at Hogwarts. For the military. For the Order. For the Ministry.
Fuck politics, Roy thought angrily. When I'm Fuhrer, I won't be doing any of this to improve country relations. No-one needs to go anywhere. When I'm Fuhrer-
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Roy sat up straight immediately, as straight as his arm would be during a salute. Before he could open his mouth to say "Come in," the door opened, and... Umbridge came in. He resisted the urge to make a noise of contempt. So far, Umbridge was the only teacher he really disliked. And he was stuck with working with her. For ten months. Roy didn't like it. He didn't like her, or her toad face, or her pink little squat self. Instead, he braved a smile, and said, "Professor Umbridge." Lucky he had been studying English, even more when he had arrived to Hogwarts. "What - what brings you here?"
"Hello, Roy," she smiled, and Roy tried not to grimace. She waved her stick - no, her wand, and the chair in the corner flew towards her and she took the seat. "I've come to help plan m - our lessons for Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"Really?"
"Yes," she replied. "Planning is important. After all, the Ministry cares about education. We value it. It helps children achieve a brighter future. We value the truth. Education is the seeking of the truth. The Ministry values this, and aims to make sure that every young wizard and witch that steps into this castle deserves and receives a bright education for a better future."
Then why not first admit Voldemort is back? Roy thought spitefully, but he nodded, and shoved the thought at the back of his mind to contemplate over later. "What are your ideas, ma'am?"
"You must be thinking of introducing alchemy to the students, believing it could be useful. I agree," she said, and Roy raised an eyebrow. She dug into her pink handbag, then pulled out a dark blue book, with over-the-top fancy patterning over a gold title: MAGICAL THEORY ON THE ART OF ALCHEMY.
"I've been thinking of adding this to the booklist," she said. "What do you think, Roy?"
Roy opened his mouth to object, but Umbridge continued on as if Roy had not even attempted to reply.
"That will be good."
Thank you for reading Chapter 7.