Chapter 3

Winry rushed down the stairs and snatched the phone up on the fourth ring.

"Elric household," she greeted, barely remembering on time that this phone was on a separate line from the one at granny's clinic now.

"Winry?" asked a tired voice she recognised easily.

"Riza!" Winry exclaimed, delighted. She hadn't seen Riza since the wedding. "How are you?"

"Not… very well," Riza admitted, worry joining the exhaustion in her voice. "Is Edward around? We have an emergency."

"Oh… yeah, sure," Winry said, worry worming its way into her gut. Riza was one of the best people Winry knew when it came to staying calm. If she was failing at it now…

Winry set the receiver on the table and walked to the bottom of the stairs.

"ED! PHONE!" she yelled.

Ed was awake already; he always jumped out of bed and fretted worriedly over Winry and her morning sickness, and when she stopped throwing up he rushed off to put together one of the breakfasts that didn't upset Winry's stomach. He never even grumbled about it.

"If it's Mustang looking for an excuse to avoid an event, tell him I'm busy!" Ed yelled down.

Winry shook her head. Brigadier General Mustang had made it a habit to call Ed whenever he couldn't deal with his paperwork anymore. Last year, he had even called during the anniversary to pretend he was busy and avoid the formal lunch. The calls were always the same: they bickered, talked alchemy and pretended they weren't friends and just put up with each other out of boredom.

"It's Riza!"

Ed's head appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hawkeye?"

Ed walked down the stairs with a puzzled expression and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?" Ed asked less brusquely than he did with most other people. Winry couldn't hear what Riza was saying, but she saw Ed's back tense as he listened. "Okay. Get all the goons out of the house, don't let them touch anything. I'll be on the first train." He made a short pause. "And get some sleep, Hawkeye. I'm gonna need you awake to keep idiots away or I'll punch someone."

"What happened?" Winry asked as soon as Ed had put the phone down.

Ed didn't turn around.

"Mustang and Armstrong —Olivier Armstrong— have gone missing because of some nutjob alchemist."

Winry gasped.

"How?"

Ed shrugged, turning around.

"She didn't say. Are you coming?"

"Of course," Winry said, nodding. It wasn't as if she could help Granny at the clinic anyway; the baby had decided it couldn't stand the smell of automail oil. She hadn't worked on an automail in two months. "I'll go tell granny, you start packing."

Roy capped the pen he had borrowed and folded the sheet of paper on which he had been writing.

"Thank you," he told Harry with a smile. "I believe we shouldn't have any trouble in reaching Diagon Alley now." Roy was extremely curious about the means of transportation Harry had called the Tube. An underground train network could prove to be very useful. And Harry, no doubt assuming Roy and Olivier were amongst the wizards unfamiliar with muggles, had been thorough with his explanations without prompting.

The Dursleys, who hadn't bothered to hide their eagerness for Roy and Olivier to leave their house, had quite derisively told them they could take the maps Harry had used to explain how to reach the city called London and, from there, the Leaky Cauldron. Roy had the sneaking suspicion that the Dursleys would throw the maps away if they remained at the house and, despite the way they had been offered, Roy and Olivier were in no position to refuse them. Following the same assumption, he pocketed the pen.

Roy folded the maps again and stood up, holding them under his arm.

He approached Olivier, who had been pretending to ignore the conversation while she studied the pictures on display around the living room for any useful information.

"We're ready to go," he told her, walking up to where she was frowning at a family portrait that very conspicuously lacked Harry's presence in it.

"Good. I'm getting sick of this house," Olivier stated, and they both ignored the Dursleys' indignant reactions. She turned to Harry. "Whatever that lousy government says, you shouldn't hesitate to protect yourself again if you're attacked."

Harry blinked.

"Thank you?" he said with uncertainty. It was hard to tell if you didn't know Olivier, but that was as close to a compliment to Harry's reaction from last night as she would give him.

"Gold is valuable here," Olivier said once they were walking down the street of boringly identical houses. "That woman was wearing some of it in every picture."

"Dear me, Lieutenant General," Roy said, his voice laced with amusement, "you cannot be asking me to break the law."

Olivier snorted. As if both of them hadn't done far worse things than transmuting some gold.

"We're not in Amestris," she deadpanned.

"We'll need an empty alleyway. And somewhere to exchange it before we board any public transportation, I'd say."

Watching Olivier barter over their gold was a truly gorgeous sight. Without her military uniform she lacked the air that commanded immediate respect whenever she walked into a room, but that was quickly amended by her voice and mannerisms. They had spent their way here looking at shop windows to gauge the value of the local currency, and they left the pawn shop with a reasonable amount of money.

"There was a bookshop a few streets back," Roy said casually, but that didn't stop Olivier from snorting.

"I was wondering when you'd say something like that."

"Oh, don't be so harsh. I'm sure we can find useful books to bring back to Amestris," Roy said, gesturing at the street and the sleek, unfamiliar cars speeding past to illustrate his point.

Olivier glanced sideways at him.

"Half an hour, and we stick to technological advancements. Don't go anywhere near other sciences."

"I'm reasonably certain there must be interesting discoveries in other scientific fields," Roy pointed out.

"Yes, but I'd like to make it to this Diagon Alley today, preferably with enough money left."

In the end they spent nearly an hour inside the bookshop and left with two bags of densely technical, promising books. Despite her original warning, Olivier pretended that she didn't notice it when Roy snuck away and returned with four thick volumes, two on physics and two on chemistry. He muttered that there was no alchemy section —Olivier rolled her eyes at this comment— and reasoned it must be considered a wizard field here. He didn't look pleased by this fact. He at least had the presence of mind to grab a notebook before paying.

They were finally sitting in an impressively fast train headed for the city called London, both of them browsing a book but keeping their attention on their surroundings. Olivier's book dealt with military advancements during this world's twentieth century. She hadn't managed to find much on how to actually build most of these weapons, but she was itching to drop this book off at a laboratory and let the scientists there figure it out.

Roy was, unsurprisingly, immersed in one of the chemistry volumes he wasn't supposed to have bought in the first place.

Not much happened during the train ride. They were surrounded by workers and families chatting or reading whatever they had brought with them. The atmosphere was relaxed and there was no trace of tension that Olivier could spot, which made her considering the possibility that perhaps muggles were unaware of whatever conflict had resulted in those damn dementors targeting a teenager with his own security detail.

It supported their theory that muggles and wizards stayed apart from each other.

Roy and Olivier had spotted a couple potential hotels to spend the night at on their way from the station to the Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky Cauldron was a shabby and run-down bar in which Roy wouldn't have stepped foot if he hadn't know where it led. The inside looked far more well maintained than its façade suggested, though, and there was a considerable difference between the relaxed patrons inside and the pedestrians giving the bar a wide berth outside. While some of the patrons were dressed in recognisable clothes, many of them wore a style that resembled Dumbledore's eccentric attire.

Acting as though the strange environment was no different from Madam Christmas' bar, Roy walked up to where the bartender was standing, wiping a mug with a dirty rag that made Roy decide he wasn't drinking or eating anything here.

"Three o'clock," Olivier muttered from his side, and Roy glanced in that direction. A man had a bag on his hand and was pulling out some money, money that looked nothing like what Roy and Olivier had acquired earlier.

"I guess a bank is our first stop," he muttered back.

They reached the bar and Roy put on one of his best smiles to ask the bartender if he could open the access to Diagon Alley for them. Roy had a story about being travellers ready, but it proved to be unnecessary: the bartender showed them the combination to open the brick wall, proving in the process that they would really need wands if they wanted to enter the alley on their own.

As the wall parted on its own, something that could have been accomplished through a transmutation and thus not particularly shocking, Roy thanked the bartender and followed Olivier into Diagon Alley.

The street itself was...

"This looks as if they let Elric decorate the place," Olivier said. Roy didn't need to ask which Elric she was talking about.

"I believe Edward would be offended. There aren't nearly enough gargoyles for his taste."

Olivier snorted.

"Touché. Let's go find a bank. My bet is on the fancy white building."

"It could also be a government building," Roy reasoned, but even in that case there was bound to be a bank near some official building. One could always find a bank close to them.

As it turned out, the fancy white building was the bank. However, if Olivier made any kind of triumphant gesture, Roy missed it. He was too busy staring at the creature standing guard to one side of the large open doors. It wasn't a chimera; it had no parts of any animal that Roy could recognise. Or notably human features, for that matter.

"I believe we should add 'races' to the magical books list," Olivier said.

"You think?" Roy asked a bit sarcastically.

Olivier placed a hand on the small of Roy's back.

"Come on, before someone notices you staring."

These creatures were all over inside the bank, clearly the ones who ran it, but by the time they stepped inside Roy had put on a politely pleasant mask. There was a counter specifically designated to exchange muggle currency, and they decided to exchange a third of their pounds into galleons, an amount they hoped would be more than enough for their purchases.

"I'm surprised he didn't kick us out," Roy said in amusement once they had exited the wand shop with their brand new magic sticks.

"He was having too much fun for that," Olivier pointed out. She was right, of course. One would expect that Ollivander would have grown frustrated when no wand seemed to meet whatever criteria he used to match them to people, but he had instead become progressively more gleeful with every failed attempt at a match.

"Still, I'm sure he would have appreciated it if you hadn't kept a running commentary about my person," Roy said.

"You should've thought about that before telling him I scare the crap out of everyone I meet," Olivier said in a perfectly scornful voice that Roy knew meant she was amused.

"It helped," Roy complained a bit theatrically. "It only took him four more attempts to find your wand after that. And then you go and call me lazy. I'm not lazy."

"You go to great lengths to make people believe you are. I figured I could help you with him."

"I'm pretty sure your help cost us twenty extra minutes," Roy muttered, but he smiled in amusement. Despite his glee, Ollivander had been growing somewhat frustrated when they made no progress with Roy's wand. Especially because Roy hadn't bothered to contradict much of what Olivier had said, no doubt leading Ollivander to believe it was the truth.

In the end, though, Ollivander had seemed pretty impressed with the final matches, and had commented they must be truly exceptional people for those wands to have chosen them.

"Books now?" Roy asked. They had come up with something akin to a shopping list on their way from the train station to the Leaky Cauldron. Wards, because they wanted to know what Arabella had been talking about last night, recent history, a spell book similar to what Harry had lent them, an alchemy one (Roy wanted to see how these people dealt with alchemy) and now races too.

"Let's go eat something first," Olivier said. "I don't trust you to be quick."

Roy grinned unrepentantly.

"Did you see any decent place to eat?"

Olivier shook her head.

"No. Unless you count ice cream as a decent place."

Roy hummed.

"I just spotted a sweets shop. It's as if these people see the Leaky Cauldron as an acceptable restaurant and don't bother with others."

"I'm not eating there," Olivier stated.

"Neither am I. We could always go back out. There were some decent-looking places on the muggle side."

Flourish and Blotts was the largest bookshop they had seen in Diagon Alley, and as such the one they headed to after a quick and uneventful meal on the muggle side of the area.

There was a small table piled high with newspapers, and Roy grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet on his way in. There was also a table standing right in the middle of the entrance area, advertising the books for the first year at Hogwarts but with a warning that there was no Defence Against the Dark Arts book chosen yet. The table was piled high with books, as though not many people had bought them yet. Some titles stood out to Roy as they passed them by. There was the same book he had been reading through last night, one titled A History of Magic and what seemed to be like introductory guides to various other disciplines.

The shop was practically empty, as if not many people had an interest in buying books. That wasn't so different from the muggle bookshop they had visited earlier, or the ones Roy was used to back in Amestris.

Roy nodded to the man sitting behind the counter and followed Olivier into one of the many hallways divided by bookcases.

"How do you feel about being a mother?" Roy muttered as soon as he was certain they were away from prying ears.

Olivier stopped and whirled around.

"You'd better have a damn good reason for that question."

Roy smiled in amusement at her reaction.

"The display at the front has a few books that fit what we're looking for, but I imagine it'd be odd to buy them if you don't have a child about to attend school as a first year."

She frowned.

"What about the missing subject? If it's basic knowledge I'd rather have a look at it."

"I'll talk to the clerk and see if he has anything to recommend. Why don't you look for something about those wards meanwhile?"

Olivier nodded and turned around again to walk into the maze of books.

Roy returned to the front and approached the counter. The clerk behind it looked bored, but he made a half-hearted attempt at appearing interested when he noticed Roy's approach.

"May I help you?" he asked Roy in a passable imitation of politeness.

Roy smiled in a much more convincing show of politeness.

"Of course. I'm here for the first year school books."

The clerk blinked in surprise.

"Really? Not many parents have bothered, given the DADA book's still not been announced."

"That's kind of why we came, actually. We figured this way we'll only have to fight for one book when everybody else shows up," Roy said, slipping some amusement into his voice.

"Good point. There'll be war if Hogwarts takes much longer to announce that book," the clerk said, pulling out his wand to make a set of books fly to the counter. "Then again, I guess it's not easy to find a DADA professor, given that position's history and the mess with Dumbledore."

Roy hummed.

"I guess," he said, as though he knew what the man was talking about. He leant forward on the counter. "If you had to recommend a Defence book, which would it be? Ed wants to get started, even if it's not the standard book."

"Smart kid?" the clerk asked, his interest looking more genuine now. "Well, if I had to choose, I'd go for The Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Protection. It's been a standard textbook at the school often enough. Even that nutjob Moody chose it last year, and that's a pretty good point to the book. The man's paranoid after all."

"We'll take a copy then," Roy said, filing the name away just in case. Someone known enough to be used as a reference for a field of knowledge was worth remembering, even if he was described as a nutjob.

He heard Olivier approaching, and she dumped two books on the counter next to him. Roy glanced down. He spotted the word 'wards' in one of the titles, but the other... Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Roy glanced at the history of magic book that was part of the first year set. It was a thick volume, but depending on how long of a period it covered it might be a good idea to buy a more specific book for recent events.

"Good call," the clerk said, looking at the history book. "Never knew why Bathilda Bagshot hasn't bothered to add the twentieth century to her book, it's not as if she's very busy these days."

"We're done with Ed's books then?" Roy asked, turning to Olivier. He noticed the twitch to her eyes at the name before she collected herself almost immediately and nodded. She could mock him for the choice as much as she wanted later, but Roy had spent four years watching after the brat; that gave him some material to use if he had to make a comment about his supposed son.

She gestured at the shop at large.

"Go for it."

Without waiting for another word, Roy walked towards the closest section of bookcases.

Alchemy and races, he reminded himself as he heard Olivier ask the clerk to keep watch over their books. She muttered something about Roy getting lost in the shop if she didn't keep an eye on him.

Denny Brosh was waiting for them at the station, looking as if he hadn't caught a wink of sleep all night. He briefed them on the car ride about what little information they had, and Ed made him change his route halfway through the explanation. There was no point in wasting time going to Central Command. If Grumman wanted to talk to him, he could drop by. Hawkeye must have predicted Ed's decision, because she was waiting outside of the cordoned off house.

She didn't look like she had slept at all.

Hawkeye approached as the three of them stepped out of the car.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she said in a decent enough imitation of her usual professional voice.

"Not a problem. Someone's got to get the Bastard out of trouble," Ed said, aiming for casual. He counted it as a victory when Hawkeye's lips twitched the slightest bit.

"Of course," she said, then straightened. "Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong has insisted that you two spend your time in Central at the Armstrong Estate." She looked to Winry now. "Maybe you'd like to go ahead, Winry? Ed will probably spend hours in here."

Winry snorted.

"Yeah, I'll get our things settled. Just make sure he stays fed and watered, please."

"Oi!" Ed complained, but he didn't mind much, because this time Hawkeye actually smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm used to taking care of obsessive alchemists."

Ed watched Winry get into the backseat, suppressing a yawn as she did. She had been so worried on the long train ride that she had exhausted herself.

"Do you know anything new?" Ed asked.

"No. The prisoner refuses to talk," Hawkeye said, turning to lead him inside. "But, between you and me, I think he's not of a very sound mind."

Ed snorted.

"Of course not. You've got to be fucking suicidal to set off an array on Olivier Armstrong."

"You'll have to transmute more gold at this rate," Olivier said once they were inside the hotel room. It was an expensive hotel, but the room fit their needs well. Aside from the large bedroom itself and a decently-sized bathroom, there was a small kitchen and a dining table where Roy could spread whatever amount of notes he needed for his research, plus a couch facing a square contraption similar to one there had been in the Dursleys' sitting room.

"Not a problem," Roy said, setting the book bags on the coffee table between the couch and the square object. "I'm going to start on that guy's notes," he announced, walking to the table and pulling out a chair.

Olivier nodded, going to the couch. She intended to finish the book she had been reading earlier, read the Prophet rag from today and then browse through the other books before deciding what to read next.

Two hours later, Olivier decided she'd had enough. Roy had been muttering to himself about numbers and nonsense, scribbling things on the new notebook before forcefully crossing them out.

It had taken Olivier an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise that Roy was in no state to start on a research project.

He rarely slept the night before the anniversary of the Promised Day, spending it on the train from East City to Central and reading whatever he managed to get his hands on to distract himself from the memories. He had been known to even willingly complete his paperwork if that meant he didn't have to think. Then there had been all the excitement and confusion from yesterday, followed by another sleepless night, and the sheer absurdity that had been today's visit to Diagon Alley.

Olivier snapped her book shut when Roy ripped off one of the notebook pages, balled it into a fist and threw it aside.

"Go to bed, Mustang," she ordered.

"I'm fine. These notes just make no sense," he replied predictably.

"Fine, really? Are you past fifty hours of being awake already?"

Roy looked up at her at those words.

"...Possibly."

Olivier scoffed.

"You're no use sleep-deprived. Go to sleep and work on that tomorrow."

The pause that followed her words was long enough that it made Olivier think she might have to drag Roy to bed herself, but when he spoke it wasn't to argue with her.

"Are you coming too?"

To most people that question, coming from Roy Mustang, would be interpreted as a sexual proposal, but Olivier knew him well enough to realise he wasn't in the mood for sex right now. He was too stressed out, too exhausted and too disconcerted by everything at the moment. He just wanted the company, because Roy was a fucking cuddler and he always got sensitive around the anniversary.

Olivier put her book under her arm, almost completely read by now, grabbed the newspaper and a couple random books from the coffee table and stood up. She wasn't tired yet, she had gotten a decent amount of sleep last night and it wasn't even dinner time, but she had no issue against moving to bed and having Roy press himself to her side while he slept. Or, well, she had no issue with it as long as no one else learnt about it. She had a reputation to maintain.

"Let's go."

To be continued

On a very nerdy and irrelevant note, I actually went to the length of spending a large amount of time reading up on wands and deciding which ones would be best. Sort of. I already had Roy's wand from The Colours of the World, but I did the research all over again to decide on Olivier's. These are the final choices:

Roy: 11", cedar, unicorn hair, rather bendy

Olivier: 13", fir, dragon heartstring, reasonably springy.

You can check the woods and cores' properties at Pottermore or the Harry Potter wiki :) The lengths and flexibility are a little random, because Rowling hasn't given much information about them.