"Good afternoon, Alastor!" Kingsley called from just outside the wards. "Care to invite me in?"
He waited patiently, humming to himself, for the ten minutes it took for Alastor for him to confirm that his guest was, in fact, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and not there to kill him.
Finally, Kingsley felt the wards shift aside.
"Come in, quick," Alastor said.
Kingsley stepped inside the dilapidated old house as Alastor checked the perimeter, magical eye making a complete circuit inside his socket.
"Good. You weren't followed," Alastor muttered.
"Did you hear the news about Hogwarts?" Kingsley asked, pouring himself some tea. "They've added a new subject."
"Yeah, yeah. Alchemy, right? Brought in a State Alchemist from Amestris and everything."
"The Minister doesn't want the public doing this, but he's assisting us with the Sirius Black case, too," Kingsley offered.
"Is that right?" Alastor asked with a snort. "He any good?"
Kingsley shrugged. "So far we've had more questions than answers. Why don't you pull out the Pensieve and see for yourself?"
As far as Kingsley knew, only Dumbledore and Alastor owned individual Pensieves. The rest were owned by organizations, like the DMLE and Gringotts. Alastor had spent almost all of his retirement money to buy himself one. Aurors still went to him for advice often enough that he made a decent living off the money he charged them to use it. Kingsley, being an old friend, got to use it for free.
The room the Pensieve was kept in was the most heavily warded room in the house, which was saying something, given Alastor's nigh legendary paranoia. Alastor ushered Kingsley inside and locked all twenty-three deadbolts behind them before removing the Pensieve from its case.
Kingsley removed the memory from his mind and placed it in the Pensieve.
"Tell me about Black," the memory of Elric ordered.
"He was arrested on November 1st, thirteen years ago, for the murder of twelve Muggles and one Wizard. He was a close follower of the Dark Lord, one of his most loyal servants. The night prior, he had betrayed James and Lily Potter's location to the Dark Lord, allowing him to murder them."
"Does this Dark Lord have a name?" Elric asked.
"Lord Voldemort," Kingsley said. "But during the War he had a Taboo on his name, allowing him to find anyone who spoke the name. Most people are still afraid to speak it. Most people just call him You-Know-Who."
Elric nodded. "So he was a double agent."
"We believe he switched to You-Know-Who's side sometime during the First Wizarding War."
"Right. So about the incident that got him arrested. Thirteen people dead with a single curse. I take it that's pretty impressive." Elric's voice was steady, but he was gripping the head of his cane with a white-knuckled hand.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "What would be impressive for an alchemist then?
"For an average alchemist, thirteen's a lot. But I served alongside the War Alchemists, the ones that were called in as human weapons during the Ishvalan War of Extermination." Elric paused, staring off into the distance. He looked far older, ancient even. "One of the best men I've ever met can and has murdered thousands of civilians with nothing more than a snap of his fingers."
Kingsley shuddered. "And you?" he asked.
Elric shook himself and his eyes brightened. "Me? I've never killed anybody. And just so we're clear, I mean to keep it that way. So, Black. How'd he escape Azkaban?"
"We have yet to figure that out," Kingsley said.
"Alright then, why?" Elric asked, mostly to himself.
They rounded the corridor to the Auror Department and entered the office. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with all the information that had been gathered on the case.
Elric stood in the center of the room and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.
"So let me get this straight. Minister Fudge inspects Azkaban and gives Black a copy of the Daily Prophet. Black starts whispering in his sleep, saying 'He's at Hogwarts'. Black escapes from Azkaban in the night, presumably to go after Potter. No one's seen any sign at all of him, even though the entire Ministry is on high alert."
"The entire Wizarding World," Kingsley corrected. "But the Ministry of Magic has been mobilized to find Black."
"Yeah, that's a bad idea," Elric said.
"Why's that?" Kingsley asked.
"The vast majority of the Ministry aren't trackers, policemen, or anyone else who might have the slightest clue how to catch Black. All he has to do is find where those guys are patrolling and stick as close to them as possible."
"We have Aurors reviewing the areas where civilians are patrolling."
Elric huffed a laugh. "You guys don't have a clue where he is," he said.
"Do you?" Kingsley asked calmly.
"Nope," Elric said cheerfully. "Only thing we can do right now is wait for him to make his move. Potter's safe in Hogwarts, right? In the meantime, I need a copy of the Daily Prophet that Fudge gave Black. Preferably that exact copy."
"The exact copy was thrown out. Fudge didn't think it was important." Kingsley's voice was low and irritated.
Elric groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Don't tell me he's one of those types." He contemplated the dog's head on his cane as though hoping it would come alive and put him out of his misery. "I get enough obstructive bureaucrats back in Central."
Kingsley grimaced. "'Fraid so."
"Is this that same guy who put the Azkaban guards that Black has proven capable of getting past around Hogwarts like a huge sign saying 'That person you're trying to kill is definitely here'?"
"Yep."
Elric sat down on a chair in the corner and blew his bangs out of his face. "Please tell me someone's plotting to overthrow him."
Kingsley chuckled. "If anyone is, it would be Undersecretary Umbridge and no one wants to see her in power."
"So you've got some plotters who know about subtlety. Good. That makes things more interesting. Think they'd have any connection to Black?"
"What makes you so sure there are plotters?" Kingsley asked.
Elric started at him. "Do you have any idea how governments actually work? Whatever. I don't really care about politics. Lemme know when Black makes his move. Till then, you know where to find me." He stood up, swaying slightly. "How do I get back to the Leaky Cauldron?"
Kingsley grabbed Elric's elbow, steadying him. "I'll teach you how to Floo," he said. He hesitated. "May I ask how you injured your leg?"
"Got myself into a bit of trouble when I was eleven. Damaged the nerves in my leg pretty badly. Right arm too. I've got some Muggle implants that help correct the damage, but they don't work too great in magical environments, so I try not to rely on 'em too much. My fiancee makes 'em. One of the best in the business. So. What's floo?"
The memory faded out.
Kingsley glanced at Alastor, who had a contemplative look on his face.
"So, what do you think of him?" he asked.
Alastor snorted. "Nerve damage, huh? That's a funny way of putting it. I'd like to meet that fiancee of his."
"Professor Elric. Professor Elric. Wake up. Wake up!"
Ed blinked. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "What happened?" he whispered.
"Here. Eat this."
There was something in his hand. He blinked again. He was on the ground. When had that happened? His ports were screaming. He looked over at Winry's-no, his-right hand. It was still covered. He tried to twitch the fingers. Nothing happened. Lovely.
"Eat it," a voice urged again. Ed looked up. The face peering down at him looked worn and tired. Stretched thin.
Ed brought the brown bar (chocolate, that's what it was) to his lips and took a bite. It didn't matter if it was poisoned. He was helpless anyway. He wouldn't be able to save himself (her. big brother, let's play).
Some of the feeling returned to his limbs. He managed to move his automail fingers, but there was no way the leg would respond yet.
The man who had given him the chocolate was now passing it around to the other members of the compartment. Potter in particular looked weak and shaky.
"What was that thing?" he asked.
"A dementor," the man (Professor Lupin-Defense Against the Dark Arts) replied. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."
He walked off, said something about the driver. Ed wasn't listening.
So that was what they had guarding Azkaban. Black was a high security prisoner; he would have been surrounded by them night and day. And yet he had managed to retain his lucidity. Ed doubted he had any sanity left, but he must still have some presence of mind. It was a dangerous combination.
"Sir?" Granger asked tremulously. "Are you alright?"
Ed noticed he was still on the floor. He smiled at her. "That thing made a couple of old injuries of mine act up a bit," he explained. "Would you mind helping me up?"
Weasley was closer, so he was the one who hauled Ed back into his seat.
"I don't understand," Potter mumbled. "Why did Professor Elric and I faint but none of the rest of you did?"
No one answered.
"What did you see?" Ed asked, trying to shake the memory of Nina from his mind.
Potter looked confused. "I-I didn't see anything," he stammered. "But I heard a woman screaming."
"No one screamed," Weasley insisted.
"That creature probably affects the fear centers of the brain." At the students' confused looks, Ed elaborated. "It makes us remember our worst memories."
"Very astute." Professor Lupin had returned. "Dementors feed off of happy emotions, leaving only the worst memories. Chocolate helps combat the effects. We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes, by the way. Are you two alright?"
"I'll live," Ed said. "They use those things to guard prisoners?"
Lupin inclined his head.
Ed shuddered. "There's no one alive who deserves that."
"Not even the most despicable criminal imaginable?" Lupin asked.
Ed smiled coldly. "No one currently alive," he repeated. "I can name a couple dead people I'd throw to those beasts in a heartbeat." (daddy. daddy let's play)
They didn't talk any more until the train arrived at the station. Ed's automail still hadn't recovered and his ports were aching in the rain, but Weasley helped him up and out to the coaches.
After everything he'd seen, Ed barely batted an eye at the skeletal horses pulling the coaches. Weasley and Granger kept looking back and forth between him and Potter as though afraid one of them might collapse again.
Ed almost did when they passed by the dementors guarding the gates, but he recited the periodic table to himself until they were past.
When the carriage finally swayed to a halt, Weasley got out first to help Ed down. As Potter exited, a drawling voiced sounded just behind them.
"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"
Ed had been willing to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt. He really had.
"Malfoy, right?" he asked.
"That's right. Draco Malfoy, at your service," the boy said, much more politely than before. At least he had learned a bit more about sucking up. A mini-Mustang was bad enough, but an incompetent mini-Mustang would have been unbearable.
"Why are you mocking Potter?" Ed asked.
"Who the hell faints when they say a dementor?" Malfoy blustered. "I mean, passing out because of a scary old dementor? It's ridiculous."
"Dementors show you you're very worst memories, yes?" Ed asked, noting that he was slightly taller than Malfoy. Oh, the joys of growth spurts. "Do you know why it's a bad idea to taunt people who've seen hell?"
Malfoy stepped back a pace and Ed stepped forward to match him, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Why?" he choked out.
"Because we might decide to show it to you."
Authors Note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews, but I can't respond to guest reviews so if you want me to reply, you have to be signed in. My school starts up again August 4th, which is terrible but can't be helped, so I'll be aiming for updating every Tuesday.