Chapter 1: An Opportunity Arises

Words: 2027

'Your big opportunity may be right where you are now' - Napoleon Hill

New York City. The city that never sleeps. The city where dreams are formed, realized, or perhaps even crushed under the heady weight of reality. Dark clouds had rolled over from the sea to settle like a blanket over the skyline – shrouding the mountains of glass and metal from view. With it, came a constant drizzle of rain that dampened the air and clung heavy to the pedestrians like some sort of funeral shroud.

But the people of New York were not to be deterred. Collars folded up as protection against the ever-creeping chill and bright umbrellas held low to guard against that invasive rain, no one noticed a short girl pushing, almost running, against the crowd. She simultaneously stood-out and blended in: her shock of braided blonde hair and long red coat kept from ever truly merging with the surrounding masses. However, she walked with the same sort of singular purpose that New Yorker's seem to have – the air that only comes from a single-minded determination to reach a destination. Eventually, she reached the corner.

'Stop!' Her voice was loud, but it was drowned by the hustle and bustle of the New York footpath. Nevertheless, a figure several paces ahead halted for a brief second, before breaking out into a sprint. The chase was on.

A sudden flash of light. An immense heat. Moving on pure instinct, hands raised, she braced against the oncoming shockwave. It reverberated through her, sending her flying backwards with the force of it. She felt the weightlessness of her feet leaving the ground for a second, the tension in her muscles as she twisted – before the inevitable thud reverberating through her bones as she landed back on earth in a crouch.

The air came sharp in her lungs and her heart pounded, but she revelled in the adrenaline rush all the same. A scream broke through her thoughts and she realised that the flow of the crowd had been brought to a halt through the display.

'Sister!'

"I'm alright, Al,' she grunted as she got up. She made a show of brushing down her clothes and jacket – miffed as she noticed one edge of her coat had become darkened with mud. 'That bastard. Doesn't he realised that we're surrounded by muggles? At this rate, I'll be charging him for breaking the Statute too – and then we'll see how he likes being thrown around!'

The distinctive clunking of metal armour to her left was all the announcement needed for her little brother.

'Sister, don't say things like that,' a voice echoed from within the armour. It was a child's voice – contrasted all-the-more jarringly against the towering suit of armour.

'Doesn't really matter, with what he's been charged with.' A sharp grin. 'Come on Al, we had better go find that son of a bitch before someone gets really hurt.' She dashed off in pursuit, ignoring the long-suffering chiding of the suit of armour.

The rain had only seemed to grow heavier as they closed in – perhaps even the weather could tell it was the end of the line for this guy. Oxygen, touched with ozone and car exhaust, settled heavy in her lungs. But her breathing was even. Her eyes were clear as she spied the figure duck into a side alley. She grinned to herself.

'Time to even the playing field.' She clapped her hands together, before slamming them against the side of the building as she rounded the corner into the alley. Crackles of blue light raced down the side of the building, overtaking the man. A space of silence. Then the brick wall burst forth, scrambling on top of each other before settling into a smooth wall that blocked the man's path.

'It seems that I have myself a little alchemist,' he sneered with eyes glinting madly. But this only seemed to enrage her further.

'Who are you calling a little bug that you can't see without a microscope!' she screeched. 'I'll show you what happens to people who call me little!'

A suit of armour vaulted over the nearly formed wall and landed with a hollow clang of metal against tarmac.

'Sister,' it sighed long sufferingly. 'He didn't say that.' It felt like an ongoing issue here.

'What the hell? A suit of armour? Wait…' His eyes were wild as they darted between the girl and the armour that surrounded him on all sides. 'A suit of armour and an alchemist… The Fullmetal Alchemist Elric!' The words left his mouth in a rush, before a thin piece of wood had been drawn from the folds of his jacket to point shakily at the armour.

'I'm sorry but… I'm not Fullmetal Alchemist, I'm her younger brother Alphonse!'

'What the hell!? I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist! Not him, damn it. ME!'

Half-a-beat of silence. The man spun around sharply, pointing his wand at the girl before shouting, 'Avada Kedavra!'

But she had already moved. Lunging to the side, she could feel the rough tarmac grazing against her black jeans as the streak of green light that burst from the wand. Instinctively, her left hand had gone to the holster at her waist – grasping at her own wand protected within the folds of her jacket. Whipping it out, her mind ran through the catalogue of possible spells within the span of half-a-second, before settling on the old-time favourite.

The man was still turning to face her by the time her arm was extended. She let out a breath and drew on the magic.

'Stupefy!'

Colonel Roy Mustang sat at his desk thinking. His desk at Central Headquarters was a nice one: a rich mahogany with brass fixtures and a deep green leather writing space. Behind him stretched two tall windows, allowing the perfect amount of natural light to filter through: enough to be productive without the yearning for the outdoors that often came with it. For darker days, he had a lamp that glowed a warm yellow position in the top left hand corner of his desk.

It was raining outside and the glass giants that usually reflected the sunlight so well were smothered by a shawl of dreary grey. Today was one of those days which, usually, he would have been basking in the glow of its wire element: either doing work or procrastinating from doing work through some appropriately useless activity of choice. Emphasis on the usually. Instead, Mustang was faced with this headache-inducing conundrum that came in the form of an old man with half-moon spectacles and infuriating smiles.

'Professor Dumbledore…'

'Please, call me Albus,' Profes- Albus corrected smiling. Stop smiling goddammit! Mustang thought belligerently.

'Albus,' Mustang started again. 'Are you proposing that we let our most promising State Alchemist become…' he searched for an appropriate word, 'a babysitter?!'

'I prefer the word bodyguard myself.' Albus replied with another smile. Well I'm glad you do, but I don't! 'But Colonel Mustang, Harry Potter is no ordinary boy. He is–'

'The Chosen One,' Mustang interrupted. 'However, shouldn't your British Ministry of Magic be able to protect him from Voldemort?' And not leave the rest of the world with their problems.

'Shall we say that, for the moment, the Ministry believes that Voldemort cannot – or rather will not – come back. They are unwilling to help us.' Dumbledore smiled grimly.

'I see…' Of course, they are! 'You have already informed Fuhrer Bradley about the situation I assume?'

'Yes. He seemed quite supportive of it.' Mustang merely grunted in acknowledgement. I never know what Bradley's thinking… Why would he approve this? What is there to gain from this – especially with all the recent incidents? Not to mention the potential international problems…

Three knocks at the office door interrupted his thoughts. Both he and Albus looked up simultaneously. An officer popped their head in.

'Sir, the Fullmetal Alchemist and her brother are here.'

'Send her in.' Mustang turned to Dumbledore. 'So, do you want to meet who you requested to babysit the Boy Who Lived? She can be quite a handful.'

Dumbledore smiled and simply said, 'Bodyguard, Colonel.'

As announced, a short girl with blonde hair and a suit of armour walked into the room.

'Hey Colonel Bastard. What is it this time? Need help destroying paperwork? Has Lieutenant Hawkeye confiscated your gloves again?' she asked, looking very smug. Disrespectful little punk…

'Hahaha, very funny Fullmetal,' he responded dryly. 'I'll have you know that I actually do paperwork. Sometimes.' The girl coughed behind a globed hand in disbelief. Mustang continued regardless. 'I would like you to meet Professor Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore, meet Eve Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and her brother Alphonse.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you Professor,' Alphonse said holding out a hand to shake. At least somebody has manners, Mustang thought as Eve chose forgo pleasantries to eye Albus up-and-down.

'So… what do you need me for?' Eve asked. Even Mustang could hear the sound of Alphonse's foot connected with Eve's left shin. Ouch…

'Sister! That's so rude!'

'It's alright I assure you,' Albus responded with another smile. 'Harry Potter's protection. As I'm sure you've heard, Voldemort is on the rise, so it is pressing that proper protection for him is acquired. Harry Potter is-'

'The Chosen One. Yeah, yeah. I've heard the story.' Eve interrupted. Her eyes flickered briefly to Mustang before focusing back on Albus. 'What do we get in return? Equivalent Exchange, right?'

'Well,' said Dumbledore. 'You're obviously getting paid, is that not enough?'

Eve shook her head. 'You see,' she said. 'Whilst I'm babysitting the Boy Who Lived, I won't be able to do any research… for the State. Time is something that isn't easily quantifiable in cash.'

'What do you want then, my dear?' Albus asked kindly. Eve hesitated. Wow, there's something you don't see every day.

'All of your research on the Philosopher's Stone.' Mustang could practically feel Alphonse's armour stiffen and even he held a breath for a second. 'You worked with Nicholas Flamel, didn't you?' Eve's eyes were hardened but they glinted with something akin to manic excitement.

Dumbledore merely nodded. 'Very well. I won't ask why a young girl like yourself is so eager to learn its secrets. But, you have a deal. I will tell you everything I know about the Philosopher's Stone and, in return, you shall protect Harry for a year.' Dumbledore held out a hand, which Eve shook firmly.

'Deal.'

Mustang sighed as Albus nodded in affirmation. Eve's far too single-minded.

'Will I pick you up or…?'

'No need. The military can drop her off,' Mustang responded grudgingly. 'The address, if you would be so kind.' Albus merely nodded once again and his hand went into one of the folds of his long robe. A spindly hand withdrew a yellowed scrap of parchment with neat cursive hand-writing situated in the middle. It read:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix may be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

Ahh… a Fidelius charm. They must be worried about something. Mustang accepted it and gripped it tightly in one clenched fist. In the back of his mind, he could almost picture the red stitching of the familiar transmutation circle stretched tightly over the back of his hand. This could be very bad for us.

Oblivious to his worries, Albus stood.

'Right then. I hope to see you soon. Cheerio!' Eve gave him a small wave as the door closed behind him and his infuriating smiles.

Now, it was time to grill someone else. Mustang turned to glare at Eve, who merely shrugged at him.

'What? It was a good deal!' Mustang sighed in defeat. Some people are so short-sighted.

'What about all the recent threats here, don't you think we need State Alchemists here at the moment? And what happens if the British Ministry of Magic takes this as an act of opposition by the States? Or what if they take it ask a step for the States to gain influence over one of the most magical nations in the world?' Mustang asked seriously, glaring once more at Eve.

'Oh shit. Did not think of that… I should have asked for more!'

Alphonse sighed.

So... what did you think? Like it? hate it? Not worth the 3 year hiatus? (probably) Please let me know anyway!