A Common Enemy

by fokker333

As the Battle of Hogwarts is lost, the Ministry falls, and the world is on the dawn of war, three vastly different groups unite against a common enemy. Determined to exact their vengeance against the one who destroyed their worlds, they fight. As they battle against the most powerful Dark Lord alive, they must deal with their own personal demons. Who will survive, and who will not?

6. First Contact

Chapter 6: First Contact

Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, saluted casually with a gloved hand as he surveyed the sixty or so soldiers standing at attention. He, Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, Major Miles, and Major Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist, stood before the soldiers who had managed to escape the capital after the Death Eaters had taken over almost two years ago. In the two years since the fall of the Ministry in Britain, as well as the government in America, Voldemort had expanded his grip and sphere of influence, encompassing most of Europe and the Americas.

"At ease!" Mustang barked, and the soldiers, whom they had trained extensively to become even more formidable than when they still served the government, simultaneously relaxed, dropping into parade ground stances. "Well, men. It's been two years since Riddle and his pet Death Eaters took over Britain and America. I believe that in that period of time, we have become stronger than we ever have. But we are not strong enough still. Intel has it that the Death Eaters number about 500, almost ten times our own. Although we are undoubtedly superior in training, their sheer numbers alone put us at a great disadvantage in a battle."

He paused, and Miles, the second in command of the group, picked up the speech. "We have decided, therefore, to attempt to create alliances with any British wizards we can find. We received information a few days ago about a fairly large group of wizards, who used to be quite politically powerful before the Ministry fell. I believe that they're led by a young man named Harry Potter."

Mustang continued, "Therefore, we shall attempt to make contact with this resistance group and create an alliance. In addition to their group, there are no doubt other resistance groups active in the areas Riddle and his men have taken over. His method seems to be simply placing his high-level Death Eaters in positions of power within the government of the area, effectively putting the country under his control. Any questions?"

A slim blonde woman with the chevrons of a corporal raised a hand. "How are we going to find this Harry Potter and his group, Colonel?" she asked. "They could be anywhere."

"An excellent question," Mustang replied, beginning to pace. "Intel tells us that Riddle is occupied with affairs in Italy. Britain is currently the only country directly under the control of Riddle. The plan is to lure Potter's group from hiding by attacking a Death Eater patrol. If they are in the same situation as us, which we suspect they are, they will want to make alliances as well. This will be a gamble, however. We may alert the Death Eaters that a new major resistance group has entered the picture. Therefore this mission will be carried out with the utmost caution, with as few soldiers as possible to ensure its success."

"Then who's going to be on the mission?" another soldier asked.

"Major Elric and First Lieutenant Hawkeye will be in charge of the squad who will engage the Death Eaters," Miles said, pushing his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. "They have selected a roster of troops to accompany them. I believe the squad consists of six others apart from them. After this meeting is over, they shall contact you. Finally, in preparation for this mission, we will be moving our base of operations to Great Britain. Be prepared to move out at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. Second Lieutenant Havoc secured a cargo ship for us to piggyback on. Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" the troops chorused, saluting simultaneously before dispersing. Ed relaxed from his at attention stance, turning to his superior.

"You really think there'll be people willing to join with us?" he asked Mustang. "This Voldemort guy seems to have quite a bit of influence. Britain's been almost completely decimated, and he's installed puppet governments all over Europe, not to mention here in America."

"Fullmetal," Mustang said. "There's one thing you need to learn about humanity. Whenever tyrants rise, there will always be people who resist. It is why we fight. It is why others fight. A great man once said, 'All that is necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing'. There will always be good men in the world, and the truly good will always fight."

Ed grinned. "You're so corny, Colonel," he teased, a sadistic grin gracing his face. "What would Lieutenant Hawkeye say if she could hear you now?"

"What would who say?" a familiar voice said behind the red-cloaked alchemist, who froze, sweat trickling down his face. Turning around slowly to face the stern face of the aforementioned First Lieutenant, a hand at her waist where one of her many pistols was holstered. "Were you talking about me, Major Elric?"

"N-n-no ma'am," Ed stammered to the blonde sharpshooter, whose serious visage quickly broke into a small smirk. Mustang didn't have nearly the same amount of self-control.

"Hahahaha!" the raven-haired alchemist burst out laughing, causing an irritated tick mark to appear on his forehead. "Good one, Lieutenant!" he crowed, slapping Ed on the back. "Serves you right, shrimp!" he sneered at his shorter subordinate.

"Sir," Hawkeye interrupted before Ed could explode in anger. "I have a pile of paperwork here for you to sign regarding the cargo ship that Lieutenant Havoc obtained."

The tables were quickly turned as Mustang paled, turning smartly on his heel and marching away, calling over his shoulder, "I forgot, I have something to do!"

Hawkeye sighed, shaking her head and smiling ruefully. "Things haven't changed at all, have they?"

Ed grinned. "Would you prefer it if they did?"

She thought for a moment, recalling all the fun moments their team had in the past. "I suppose not," she mused.

Everyone present looked disgusted as the sounds of retching and splashing reached their ears. Mustang threw a repulsed look at Breda, who sat in the corner of the cargo hold, a bucket held between his legs, his face a lovely shade of green. "Never thought you'd be seasick," he muttered, turning away from the vomiting Second Lieutenant and clapping his white-gloved hands over his ears to try and block out the nausea-inducing sounds of half-digested food and stomach fluid splashing noisily into the bucket.

Ed wrinkled his nose. "The smells getting pretty nasty," he said, waving a hand in front of his face to try and clear the air. "Is there any way we can get him on deck so the rest of us don't have to listen to and smell him hurling?" he complained.

"Unfortunately, no," Hawkeye said. "The risk of being spotted by a patrol is too high. We'll just have to cope."

"Ugh," Ed groaned. "How much longer will this trip take?"

Mustang smirked at the childish Fullmetal Alchemist. The Flame Alchemist sometimes forgot how young Fullmetal was, due to the blonde's maturity at times. And then, there were times like this, during which everyone was reminded of the fact that Ed was only seventeen and held the rank of Major only due to his position as a state alchemist. Not that ranks mattered anymore, with their usual chain of command decimated by the fact that their entire army amounted to a little over sixty troops.

"We'll be landing in Liverpool in eighteen hours," he said, taking sadistic pleasure in the miserable look that spread across Ed's face. "So settle down and get used to it, we're in it for a long haul."

"Dammit," the blonde mumbled irritably, pulling his white gloves off his hands and stuffing them into the pockets of his red cloak, revealing a normal, fleshy left hand and a gleaming, metallic right hand and arm. Flexing the steel-nickel-chrome alloy fingers, Ed remembered the alchemical accident that had claimed his right arm and left leg, and the life of his mother. He clenched both hands, real and artificial, into fists. "Yeah," he muttered, staring at the floor of the cargo hull. "This Voldemort guy's going down."

"Bollocks, as the Brits say," Mustang muttered as he stepped off the gangplank of the cargo ship, careful to stay in the shadows and avoid the patches and splotches of light thrown by a few random dock lights. He looked around at Liverpool Harbor. He'd never been there before so he didn't know what it was supposed to look like, but the Colonel knew that there should not be half a dozen piles of rubble where warehouses used to stand, nor were there supposed to be scorch marks on the cobbled ground. "Looks like this place got hit hard, too."

As the rest of the troops filed quickly and silently off the ship, which was left unguarded since the crew had disembarked a few hours earlier. Hawkeye, her .45 handgun gripped loosely, approached the Colonel. "Sir, the dock's clear," she reported, clicking the safety of her firearm back on and holstering it at her hip. "And the men have just finished disembarking. Orders?"

"We're headed south," Mustang said, beginning to walk in said direction, careful not to allow his leather boots to click on the cobblestone. "Riddle started his rampage in London and took over the rest of Britain from there. He left the wizarding villages mostly untouched. We'll set up camp near that area and begin scouting parties. Once we leave the city limits, have the men change into woodland camouflage. Our blue dress uniforms are hardly appropriate for the environment."

"Yes, sir," his adjutant confirmed, snapping a quick salute before moving off to begin directing the troops. Mustang called for Falman and Breda quietly, beckoning his trusted intelligence officers to his side.

"Sir?" Falman questioned. "You called?"

"Yeah," Mustang said. "I need to know what the largest wizarding villages in England are. We'll start our searches in those areas. We'll move to the smaller, more secluded areas later."

"Yes, sir," the Warrant Officer and the Second Lieutenant replied as the entire group silently marched out of the harbor, not making a sound as they melted into the darkness, headed towards the English countryside. As they vanished into the night, in a small building in London a single figure started to attention as a shrill alarm sounded. Standing, he spun and vanished in a crack.

"My lord," a hooded and masked Death Eater murmured quietly, bowing to his master. "Our wards in Britain have detected a rather large unknown force. They number about sixty, maybe up to seventy. It seems they came from America, since they entered Liverpool from a cargo ship bound from New York City. Their affiliation is unknown. It would be prudent to assume that they are hostile."

The Dark Lord turned his head slowly and regarded his minion with snake-like eyes. "Prudent, you say," he mused, fingering his wand. "Are you giving me orders, Yaxley?"

The Death Eater gulped. "N-no, sir," he replied, trying hard not to stammer. "It was merely a suggestion."

"I am the Dark Lord!" Voldemort yelled suddenly, causing Yaxley to wince and cower. "Nobody gives me orders!"

"N-n-no, sir!" Yaxley cried, sweat trickling down his face beneath his mask. "Of course not! I wouldn't dream of doing so, my lord!"

"Good," Voldemort hissed, replacing his wand back in its holster. Yaxley breathed a sigh in relief. "Americans, then," the Dark Lord said thoughtfully. "Amycus and Alecto are in command of our forces in England, I believe. How many loyal Death Eaters are under their command?"

"About two hundred," Yaxley answered, still bowing.

"Indeed," Voldemort nodded approvingly. "Then these newcomers are greatly outnumbered. I see no need to return to England myself. I shall stay here in Romania to oversee its conquering."

"You're not going to install a puppet government like the rest of Europe, my lord?" Yaxley asked in surprise.

"No," Voldemort murmured softly. "The Romanian magical government has seen fit to resist my will. For that, they will be utterly destroyed, like the Ministry in London. The other countries gave up easily enough, but Romania shall require brute force, it seems. Now leave me, Yaxley," he ordered. "Return to Alecto and Amycus and inform them of this new group. Tell them to deal with the intruders."

"Your will shall be done, my lord," Yaxley said, backing away from Voldemort, not daring to turn his back. Once out of sight, he quickly turned on the spot, disappearing in a soft crack as he returned to England to tell the Carrows, the lead Death Eaters in England, of the Dark Lord's orders.

In a tall, crooked building in the small wizarding village of Ottery St. Catchpole, a young blonde seer named Luna Lovegood jolted awake, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of the visions she had seen. Flashes of navy blue, a gleaming metal arm, and a flash of white gloves crossed her vision, and she heard the murmur of voices, muffled and unclear. Luna was uncertain whether these blue-clad figures were friend or foe, but one thing was clear. A new factor had entered Britain, and Harry Potter needed to know about it.

Making sure that she was within the wards that protected the ancient Lovegood home, the blonde seer disapparated, reappearing with a quiet pop in a clearing in the woods somewhere in the south of England. Tapping her foot impatiently as she felt the wards in the clearing scan her body and magic before finally letting her through, she dashed towards the center of the patch of ground, ignoring the tents that were materializing around her, paying no heed to the startled looks from the people standing around.

"Harry!" Luna cried breathlessly as she dashed into the largest tent situated in the center of the clearing. "I had another vision!"

Adjusting his glasses on his face and sweeping his tousled hair away from his eyes, Harry Potter, leader of the resistance faction in England, looked up from the scattered mess of maps and reports that covered the table in the middle of the tent, which was charmed to be larger on the inside. "Calm down, Luna," he said soothingly as the seer panted in exertion and excitement. "Take a few deep breaths. Here, have some water." He held up a glass of water, which she quickly swiped up and gulped down gratefully. "Now, tell me- slowly- what you saw," he commanded with quiet authority.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Luna said, "I had a vision again, and I think this one's important. I saw people wearing dark blue, and I saw a metal arm, and white gloves, and a red cloak with a strange symbol on the back. The gloves had a strange design on them, a circle I think, with triangles inside them."

"A metal arm?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"A circle with triangles?" a new voice cut in as Hermione Granger pushed aside the flaps of the tent to join Harry and Luna, followed by Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall. Together the six of them were the leaders of their faction of the resistance against Voldemort, with Hermione serving as head researcher, Ron as head tactician, Snape as Potions Master and advisor regarding the Dark Arts, and McGonagall as head advisor in general.

"That's what I saw," Luna confirmed. "I think I can recreate the circle I saw," she added, grabbing a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Working quickly and with the skill of one adept in drawing runes, the seer sketched out a circle, adding a slightly smaller one inside it, and inscribing an inverted triangle and an upright triangle. Adding a smaller triangle in the center, she sketched more lines, finishing the circle with a small flame at the top and a dark lizard-like shape at the bottom. "That's what it looked like," Luna finished.

Hermione took one look at the drawing and began extremely excited, prompting confused looks from all present, although Snape only looked at the drawing with dawning comprehension. "This," Hermione whispered, indicating the stylized circle, "is called a transmutation circle." Now McGonagall also gasped in recognition.

"Alchemy," the aged ex-Transfiguration professor whispered.

"Exactly," Hermione said triumphantly, brandishing the paper in her fist. "These newcomers, the ones wearing blue as Luna saw, could be alchemists."

"Like Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded excitedly. "Luna," she said, addressing the seer again. "Could you draw the symbol you said you saw on the back of the red cloak?"

Luna nodded, and the brown-haired genius handed back the paper, and the seer got to work. Quickly, a cross with a serpent intertwined around it, topped by a crown and a pair of wings, emerged from her skillful hands.

"A snake?" Ron asked skeptically. "Reinforcements for the snake bastard?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said. "This symbol has nothing to do with him," she spat in distaste, careful not to say the taboo name. "This is called the Flamel." She traced the cross and serpent with her finger. "In alchemy it symbolizes what texts refer to as 'fixing of the volatile'. Basically, alchemy involves transmutation, which takes one objects and rearranges its chemical makeup to change it into something else. The serpent is being crucified on the cross, and it symbolizes removing volatile, or poisonous, elements in various cures and alchemical substances. It means turning something that torments you into something that strengthens you. It has nothing to do with him."

"So do you think they're here to help?" Harry asked, sitting down, a pensive frown on his face. "If we could join up with them, they could be major assents to our fight. Didn't Dumbledore try to become Nicholas Flamel's apprentice?"

"Along with Gellert Grindlewald," Snape reminded. "They were both rejected. I believe that it would be safe to say that with the passing of Flamel himself after the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed, the art of alchemy has all but disappeared from Europe."

"So where could they be coming from?" Ron asked.

"America," McGonagall said, drawing startled looks. "I heard that the American government employs a number of skilled alchemists. Not masters like Flamel, but their knowledge of the art far surpasses that of any British, or indeed any European wizard or witch."

"So it's a safe bet to say that these blue-clad alchemists are Americans. Didn't the American government fall a few months after the Ministry did two years ago?" Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "So they're remnants of the old American government, and they're on the run from the puppet regime that he installed there. But why come to Britain?" she wondered. "This is where he has the most power and influence, after all."

"They probably had the same idea that we did," Harry said. "They're looking for allies, and they figured that since Britain is the place where he has the most control, it'll also be the place where there are the most resistance factions. They must be here to search for allies. I say we meet up with them."

"It's a risky idea though, Harry," Ron counseled. "We don't know if they know about the Americans' presence here. What if the Americans are being watched?"

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Harry asked, becoming frustrated. "We've been hiding out for two years, and although the groups grown a bit, we're not even close to being strong enough to oppose him and the Death Eaters. He left about two hundred in Britain, led by the damn Carrows. We have thirty battle-capable wizards and witches. If there are at least that many Americans, we could double our force and become a serious threat to his power, if not in general then at least here in Britain. This could be our big break and we could finally end this war. I think it's a chance worth taking, don't you think?"

"Then how do you plan on getting in contact with the Americans?" Snape asked. "We cannot risk compromising our camp, and it would be difficult, near impossible in fact, to send a message without setting off the wards the Death Eaters placed all over Britain."

"So owl messages are out," Harry said. "What about Patronus messages?"

"The wards are keyed to detect those too," Hermione said. "I don't think there's any way to indirectly send a message. It would have to be in person, since the Death Eaters don't have traces on our bodies. That's the riskiest option, but it's the only one. The problem is where to find them, though. We have no idea where they could be."

"If we think about it logically, though," Ron mused, walking over to the table and smoothing out a map of England, "the only port that's open now is Liverpool. It'd be easiest for the Americans to hitch a ride undetected on a cargo ship, any other way of getting across the ocean would leave too much of a paper trail. So it's logical that they're still around there. If they have enough intel on the magical communities, they would look in those areas first. What're the closest wizarding villages near Liverpool?" He cut himself off with a smack to the face, and the others realized what he was getting at.

"…Ottery St. Catchpole," Luna said in wonder. "I was just there! How stupid of me! I came straight here to tell you about the dream, and I didn't even consider it!"

"Well, we only came to the conclusion that the Americans might be around there after combined discussion and deliberation," Hermione said soothingly, calming down the agitated seer. "The Lovegood house is still warded, right? We can use that as an apparation destination, and we can search on foot there. Now the question is who should go."

"I'm going," Harry said immediately. "No- don't try to dissuade me. I'm the leader of this group, and I don't care about the whole 'leader stays behind and commands from the back' thing. A leader is responsible for his entire group, and I'm going to meet these Americans myself."

"If you're going yourself, Harry," McGonagall said, "I'm not going to try to prevent you. But you need some protection, at least. At least three others should go with you, I think."

"I should go," Luna said. "I'll be able to recognize them. My visions haven't failed me yet."

"Hermione and I should stay here," Ron said reluctantly. "As much as I would like to go with you, Harry, it would be unwise for so many key leaders of the group to be in the same place that isn't properly warded and protected."

"Take Miss Weasley and the oldest brother," Snape suggested. "They should serve as ample protection. I know that Death Eater patrols consist of about five men. The four of you should be able to take a standard-sized patrol without trouble. Just make sure to eliminate them and leave no evidence. The Dark Lord will undoubtedly know if his followers are killed, but if you dispose of the bodies properly he will not know who did the deed, although he shall have his suspicions. He knows that you are still alive, Potter, after all."

Harry nodded. "Right then," he said, turning and walking out of the tent. "I'll go get Ginny and Charlie. Luna, we'll have to side-along with you, since the Lovegood house's wards are keyed only to you, right?" The seer nodded in confirmation. "We can get supplies there, then. I'll tell Ginny and Charlie to pack light; we'll use the Lovegood house as a base of operations until we can find the Americans. Is that alright with you, Luna?"

"Sure," the blonde said. "All of our resources belong to the resistance, you know that. Don't hesistate to make use of them."

"Alright," Harry said with a nodded. "Be ready to leave in twenty minutes."

The four members of the resistance arrived at the Lovegood house with a muted pop. Harry, Ginny, and Charlie shook their heads, orienting themselves after the side-along. It wasn't the most comfortable form of travel.

"It's been a while since we last came here," Harry commented as he looked around the house. "At least for me. I think it was two years ago, during Sixth Year. Your Erumpent horn blew up, I think."

Luna smiled thinly. "Don't worry about that," she said airily. "I repaired the damage a while ago. So what's your plan on finding these Americans?"

"I was thinking we could go into disguise and walk around the village," Harry said. "The Death Eaters don't interfere too much with wizarding villages, so we wouldn't be under too much suspicion. I also still have my invisibility cloak with me, if it comes to that. Ottery St. Catchpole is the largest wizarding village near Liverpool, so it's logical that they come here first. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to come into contact with them, but it'll still be worth it if we wait for a few weeks."

He had briefed Ginny and Charlie on the situation with the Americans before they apparated from the camp. They had been intrigued with the possibility of alchemists among their future potential allies, having little experience with the art, like the rest of the British wizards. "What if they attack us?" Charlie asked. "They're Americans, and the American government never really had good relations with the Ministry. They might assume that we're hostile and react accordingly."

"I anticipated that," Harry admitted. "There really isn't a way to show that we're not enemies, except to talk it out. If they attack us, defend only. If we assume that they fought against the Death Eaters who initially attacked Washington, then it stands to reason that they're familiar with the British fighting style. Hopefully they'll be reasonable enough to hear us out."

Ginny frowned. "It seems like your plan to get in contact with the Americans is based a lot on the assumption that they're reasonable and willing to talk. What if they have a grudge against British wizards in general because of what the Death Eaters did? What then?"

Harry grinned sheepishly, causing the redhead to sigh in exasperation. "Well, I guess if that happens, we'll just make up something on the fly. My impromptu plans usually work out, don't they?"

"Usually being the operative word here," Charlie remarked drily.

Harry pretended to take offense. "Have a little faith in my planning abilities, can't you?" he joked as he rummaged around in his knapsack, pulling out the familiar silky cloth of his invisibility cloak. "I'll go scout out the village. You guys get your disguises ready. Be nondescript, no particularly distinguishing features." The disguise spells that McGonagall had pioneered allowed them to completely change their physical features, not unlike the Polyjuice Potion. It had become the resistance's mainstay for disguises when ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion were scarce, something that happened far too often. Harry smirked. The fact that McGonagall's spell was often more useful than his potions was something that rankled the Potions Master for quite a while.

"Yes, sir!" the two Weasleys saluted mockingly, something that Harry had tried to stop them from doing for a year now. It was true that he was the leader of the resistance, but having people salute him was still a rather uncomfortable feeling.

"Whatever," he muttered, flinging his invisibility cloak over his head. "I'll go scout out the village. Meet up in the village center at three o'clock." He opened the door of the Lovegood house, vanishing from sight. "Later."

"This is such a quaint village," Ed remarked, tugging at the collar of the nondescript civilian shirt he had been forced by Mustang to wear. "Reminds me a bit of my hometown, actually."

"Try not to talk, Fullmetal," Mustang said, looking uncomfortable in civilian clothing. "Your lack of an English accent is too much of a giveaway. At least I and Hawkeye can fake one pretty well."

Lieutenant Hawkeye nodded in agreement from Mustang's other side. "Yes, please keep quiet, Ed. You don't want to blow our cover."

Ed sweat-dropped. "You say that to me, but…" he looked at the stiff, formal stances of the two military officers. "…You guys walk too much like soldiers. It's too suspicious."

"It can't be helped," Breda said with a chuckle. "It's just how they are."

"Then how come you guys are fine?" Ed asked, looking at the rest of Mustang Squad, who were accompanying them around the village, which they had learned went by the strange name of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"I guess we're just more lax when it comes to these things," Fuery said. "After all, our lives don't revolve around the military. Well, they didn't. I guess after everything that happened, they do now, huh."

Ed sighed. "I guess you're right. All the more reason to kick Riddle's ass then, right?"

"That's right!" Breda said enthusiastically, prompting both Mustang and Hawkeye to hush him.

"You stay quiet," Mustang ordered. "Let me and Hawkeye do the talking."

"Americans?" a new voice broke in, and the entire group whirled to see an older man with graying hair looking at them with a calculating look. "You here because of him?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Mustang said glibly, feigning ignorance, although all the Americans knew exactly who the him the old man had mentioned was.

The old man wasn't buying the act. "You're here to fight against him, aren't you?" he asked. "Don't try playing the fool with me, sonny. I've seen too much in my life to fall for that. Come with me. Talking here in public isn't safe anymore. You never know when he might be listening."

Mustang hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said somewhat reluctantly, dropping the fake British accent. "Take us somewhere safe."

"Come with me then," the old man said, beckoning to them to follow.

The group followed the old man out of the village, walking up a hill to an oddly shaped building. Mustang smiled slightly, taking in the vaguely rook-shaped structure, reminding him of the games of chess he had played with the brass back in America. Too bad they were probably dead now, and he had nobody to challenge his skills anymore.

"Interesting place," he commented. Before he could take a step past the fence, the old man held up a hand. "Something wrong?" Mustang asked, holding up a hand himself to halt his subordinates.

"The wards just have to key to your signatures," the man said. "You can come in in a moment.

As the man spoke, the Americans felt a strange tingly feeling run through their bodies, as though they were being probed or felt out by some energy. After a moment, it stopped and the old man nodded in satisfaction. "Alright, you're free to enter. Come on in." He led them in, shutting the door behind them.

Everyone present started as the man turned to face them. Except it wasn't a man anymore, it was a young blonde woman, about eighteen years old. "Sorry for the disguise, it was necessary. Please," she said, holding up her hands to show that she was unarmed, trying to placate the Americans, who had instinctively drawn their weapons. Although they weren't trained on the blonde, safeties were flicked off and fingers sat gently outside the trigger guard, ready to fire if necessary. "That won't be necessary. I mean you no harm, and my intentions are similar to yours."

"Similar?" Mustang asked suspiciously. "What exactly do you mean, similar? And who are you anyways?"

"Oh, forgive my rudeness!" the blonde said. "My name is Luna Lovegood. I'm a seer." This caused many raised eyebrows among the Americans. "I foresaw your coming, alchemists."

"So you know who we are," Ed said, clenching his metal fist. "What do you want from us?"

"I believe that my friends can explain that better. They should be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, would you like some tea?"

"Eh," Ed said, rubbing his head. "Personally, I prefer coffee, but I guess tea will be fi-OUCH!" he cringed, rubbing the bruise from his face after getting smacked by Mustang. "What the hell was that for?"

"Show some manners!" the Colonel snapped. "Now that we've established that neither side wants to fight, we might as well act amiably, right?"

The group, compose of Luna, Mustang, Ed, Hawkeye, Fuery, and Breda were calmly drinking tea and chatting when Harry, Charlie, and Ginny entered the Lovegood house. "Hello, Harry!" Luna said with a smile. "Welcome back! Sorry I couldn't tell you that I found the Americans, but sending any sort of message is too risky."

"That's alright, Luna," Harry said, sitting down at the table. "Looks like you guys are comfortable. That's good, I didn't really anticipate dealing with a bunch of fight-hungry alchemists."

"Well, Luna here said something about our interests being similar, and that you could explain better what she meant," the raven-haired man said. "I'm interested."

"Well," Harry said, "I guess I should start by introducing myself. My name is Harry Potter, and I'm the leader of the resistance in Britain. Please hear me out before you ask questions. A little over two years ago, a man named Tom Riddle took defeated the largest resistance group in Britain, the Order of the Phoenix, and its allies in what became known as the Battle of Hogwarts, in Scotland. After that, Riddle took over the Ministry and began expanding his influence around Europe and the Americas. You guys should know about what happened in America, you were there, weren't you?" Seeing their confirming nods, Harry continued, "The resistance group that I lead is the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix and another group, Dumbledore's Army. There's about thirty of us, and we've survived for two years by hiding beneath concealing wards. There were only about twenty of us at first, but we've grown since then. We've been training to become strong enough to beat Riddle since then, but the Death Eaters in Britain far outnumber us. When Luna saw you in a vision, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to bolster our strength. So what do you say? How about joining forces against a common enemy?"

"Heh," Mustang chuckled, a smile arcing across his face. "Well, that's the same thing we came to Britain to do. I guess that's what Luna meant by 'similar interests', huh?" He stood, beckoning his subordinates. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. I'm the commanding officer of our group. These are my subordinates."

"Sup!" Ed said cheerfully, waving his hand. "I'm Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist!"

"I'm First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, weapons expert," the blonde woman introduced herself.

"Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Intelligence Expert," the husky man said with a grin.

"Master Sergeant Kain Fuery, Communications Expert," the bespectacled Sergeant said. "And I may have a solution to your message-sending problem. Our intelligence officers have conducted extensive research about the effects of magic and electronic communication. It's true that in magic-heavy places like the destroyed school Hogwarts, the magic will interfere with electronics. But in the rest of the world, even though there are wizards and witches present, our radios will still work. Even in wizarding villages like this, because of the mundane communities nearby, comms still work. We have extra radios, enough to equip almost every member of your group. This way communications won't be a problem."

"That's great!" Harry exclaimed. "So this means you'll definitely join us?"

"Do not mistake us, Harry Potter," Mustang counseled. "Our group is joining forces with your group. We shall have joint leadership of the combined resistance against Riddle. We shall abide by your chain of command, and your group shall abide by ours. We will not be ordered around like minions. We have lost just as much as you have, and we expect to take our vengeance on Riddle as well. Do not make the mistake of treating us as your subordinates, and we shall not treat you as ours."

"That's fair," Harry agreed. "We're a fairly laid back group though, and you guys seem like military. Hopefully we won't have too many disagreements." He gestured to his companions, who also stood up.

"I'm Charlie Weasley," the scarred ex-dragon keeper introduced, holding out a rough, calloused hand in greeting. He shook hands with each of the American soldiers in turn, frowning slightly when he shook Ed's, which, although covered by his gloves, was unnaturally hard and cold.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," Ginny said with a friendly smile. "We're basically Harry's bodyguards while he's away from the main camp."

Harry scowled. "You know I don't like that idea, Ginny," he scolded. "And you guys have already met Luna," he said, indicating the blonde seer. "She foresaw your coming, and from what she saw in her visions we deduced that you were American alchemists. We're all a bit curious about alchemy, by the way. The art's basically been lost in Europe since the death of Nicholas Flamel a few years ago."

"Flamel?" Ed asked in surprise. "That old geezer was still alive?" He scratched his cheek absentmindedly. "Flamel was the inspiration of the alchemy division of the American government. We based our art off his ideals. The Flamel symbol," he sketched out the cross and serpent in the air with a gloved finger, "means 'fixing of the volatile' in alchemy. But to us in the alchemy division, it means something much more important. It symbolizes the cycle of life and death. We live, and we die. While we're alive, we alchemists work for the people. We try our best to live for the good of those around us. And now we state alchemists, who put our skills to military use, are going to kick Riddle's ass, for the good of everyone in the world!"

"Sounds like a worthy goal," Charlie chuckled, a good-natured grin spread across his scarred face. "Looking forward to working with you. By the way, how many people are in your group?"

"We have sixty-four battle-fit soldiers and twenty-three men and women who act as support, such as automail mechanics, field medics, supply masters, and the like."

"Are you all alchemists?" Ginny asked curiously.

"No," Breda answered, shaking his head. "But I assure you, all the active-duty soldiers are fully capable of holding their own against multiple Death Eaters. We were the best of the best of the American military."

"State Alchemists, alchemists employed by the military, like Colonel Mustang and Fullmetal over here," Fuery said with a smile, "can singlehandedly turn the tides of a battle due to their skill."

"Apart from me and the Colonel here," Ed said, "there's also another state alchemist, Major Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist. My brother is also a proficient alchemist, though he didn't quite make the cut to become a state alchemist. We also have several other fledgling alchemists among the troops, but they aren't as well versed in the science. They prefer to fight like the other soldiers do."

"And how do you fight?" Harry asked. He wanted to get an idea of the combat capabilities of his new allies.

"The majority of the troops don't use magic, actually," Hawkeye explained. This was her area of expertise, after all. "I believe that the term you use is 'muggle'. We are aware of your attitudes towards non-magical culture, and quite frankly you would do well not to underestimate our abilities."

"Lieutenant Hawkeye here is the best marksman in the platoon," Mustang praised. "I've seen her take off the wings of a fly from fifty yards."

"You exaggerate, Colonel," Riza deadpanned.

"Well, maybe a little," Mustang admitted. "But I really have seen her take accurate bulls-eye shots from almost a mile out. From what we know about your magic, that's a far greater range than any sort of spell you could cast, am I right?"

Charlie whistled, impressed. "Damn," he said. "You're right. That sort of range gives you a huge advantage over the Death Eaters. The Killing Curse has an effective range of only a hundred meters, and you can't even cast it accurately that far. I'm certainly happy you're on our side then."

"Not to pop your bubble or anything," Ed interjected, "but we have sixty men camped a few miles out from here in the woods. If we're gonna combine forces, should we go to you, or are you gonna come to us?"

"Our camp is protected by about thirty-seven wards," Harry mused. "It'll take a while to key all of your men into the wards, but it'll still be faster than to set them up for a combined group of over a hundred people. Also, I don't know about your camp, but we can expand our camp to provide for the extra manpower. Magic, you know," he smirked.

"Interesting," Mustang murmured. "How do we transport all our men there?" he inquired. "I doubt the Death Eaters would not notice over a hundred Americans trooping across England," he commented wryly.

"All of Britain's been warded against portkeys," Charlie commented. "We could apparate and take the Americas side-along, but that might take a while."

As the wizards discussed options for travel, the Americans gathered around in a circle. "I'm pleasantly surprised," Mustang admitted. "This is going easier than I had expected. I was anticipating at least some hostility, but I'm not complaining about the lack thereof."

"You think they're gonna ask for a demonstration of skill?" Ed asked. "Something like the State Alchemist Exam?"

"I doubt it would be something that dramatic," Mustang murmured. "But expect to show off a little bit. Also, be prepared to give an abbreviated alchemy lesson. The science has been lost in Europe for decades, and I'm certain that there will be wizards or witches among their ranks who are curious about the specifics. Alchemy is hardly a secret ability, so it won't do any harm to let them know a little bit about it."

"Roger that," Ed said, snapping a salute that made an irritated tick mark appear on Mustang's forehead.

"Cut that out, Fullmetal," the Colonel ordered. "Technically, we're still in civilian disguise."

"I'll stop saluting you when you stop walking like you have a stick up your ass," Ed shot back.

Before the annoyed Colonel could punish Ed for his impudence, Harry called over to the Americans, "Alright, we've decided on how we're going to transport everyone." The two groups reconvened, and Harry began explaining. "Our primary method of travel is called apparation, which basically allows us to disappear and reappear at our destination almost instantaneously. Normally it can be traced, which would make apparation very dangerous since Riddle and his Death Eaters would be able to track us, but both the Lovegood property and our camp is warded against spells that would be able to do that. They're designed to prevent apparation as well, but the wards are keyed to recognize and allow our magical signatures through. So we're going to take you with something called side-along apparation, which is basically us apparating, and you guys hanging on. It'll be uncomfortable for you, but it's the only way we can do this." He indicated Charlie, Ginny, and Luna. "The four of us will apparate back to our camp to get a few helpers, and that'll make the process go faster. We can each make the trip with up to four on side-along. The whole thing shouldn't take more than an hour if we streamline the process."

"That works then," Mustang nodded. "And there's no chance that Riddle's men will discover us?"

"I doubt that they don't know you're in Britain," Charlie said with a frown. "The wards alert them of any entrances and exits from the country. But they probably don't know who you are, what your abilities are, and your intentions. They just know that there's a bunch of new people in Britain, that's probably it."

"Hn," the Colonel grunted. "That's probably the best we're gonna get then, considering the circumstances."

"Probably," Ginny agreed. "Now, we should get going. Let's go, Harry, Luna, Charlie." The dragon keeper, the Boy-Who-Lived, the young blonde seer, and the redhead witch vanished from view with a quiet pop, leaving the group of Americans looking at the spot where they were just standing in curiosity and slight wonder.

"Interesting how they do that," Breda commented as he sat back down on the comfortable couch, sipping his tea. "Actually, I'm kinda looking forward to working with these Brits. Seeing that display makes me wonder what else these guys are capable of."

Ed grinned enthusiastically, pumping his automail arm in excitement. "Alright! With these Brits' help, we're gonna take down this Riddle bastard for good!" The rest of the soldiers agreed wholeheartedly, if with a little less enthusiasm.

#

Sorry for being late with the update, I've been out of the country for the past few days and didn't have access to my laptop to post the chapter. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, if any of you guys are Naruto fans, I and my sister, Say-theLastWord, are collaborating on a series of Neji-centric one-shots called Never Ending Story. If you're interested, please go check it out.

Thanks for reading, drop a review if you please, and I'll see you next week for the next chapter!

~fokker333