Chapter Text
“You know, I have to admit, I was expecting something more typical. Perhaps a, ‘what qualifies you for this position?”
“Not a fan of surprises, are we Mr. Mustang?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. Roy felt the urge to take his frustrations out on the nearest light fixture.
“When it comes to something as gainful as employment? Not generally.”
Albus chuckled, “Come now, surely transmuting candies isn’t so bad?”
Roy’s eye twitched. This was obviously some test of endurance. If he couldn’t endure this level of stupidity how could he ever endure teaching school children? He could understand that. He could understand this.
Didn’t mean he agreed with it being his assessment for teaching.
Alchemy wasn’t cooking. Making candy required an intimate, baker’s knowledge, of the chemical structure of the ingredients without losing the nutrients capability to be absorbed. Here Roy was swinging blindly with his only reference of what to go for being the candy he’d had at his arrival in the headmaster’s office, and a general concept of viscosity. He was not an organics specialist.
Roy erased an entire fifth of his eighth array. With a few practiced scribbles he relented. The arrays were nowhere near perfect. All he could wish for was that they’d be enough.
Roy activated one of the ten arrays at a time. By the end of it there were ten different hard candies on the headmaster’s desk, each one vastly different from the next.
Roy didn’t allow himself a moment of relaxation. The appearance had turned out just fine, but taste was a different matter altogether.
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore selected a candy closest to him and took a tentative lick. After several noises of appreciation Roy’s spine gave way and he sunk into the chair opposite the headmaster, feeling immensely silly.
“No offense intended, Headmaster, but if you sell any of these arrays I will be seeing you in court.”
“Hmm, and to think, as your employer I would have to be the one supplying you with the money to sue me. What a circular world we live in, Mr. Mustang?” Dumbledoor rolled a candy between his thumb and forefinger.
“You can say that again.” Roy sighed, “I’m hoping that means I’ve got the job?”
Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly. “Your room is in the faculty tower. I’ll ask the house elves to get it set up for you right away. Do know, Mr. Mustang, that before the term starts you are free to move in whenever you like.”
Roy nodded in acknowledgement. Considering his current housing situation moving in would likely come sooner rather than later. “Thank you for this opportunity, Headmaster Dumbledore. I know my resume was lacking and I really do thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself… however unorthodox.”
“I’m glad you went along with it Professor. To be honest, when you first entered my office I got the impression that you were a bit straight laced. It’s been a pleasure to discover our temperaments aline. I have no doubt you are a very competent man, Mr. Mustang, but I do prefer to work with people who possess a sense of humor.”
Roy sighed, “Oh so that was a joke, huh? Here I was pouring my whole heart and soul into those toffees and you already decided to hire me anyway?” He tried not to show it,but his frustration wasn’t really a joke. Making food with alchemy was incredibly difficult. Roy was and always had been pettish.
“What’s wrong, Professor?” Roy blinked, calling him professor already? That was fast, and it left Roy feeling conflicted on multiple fronts. “Feeling a bit sour?”
Roy snorted, “Wow, Headmaster. Was that pun another endurance test?”
Dumbledore hummed, “Perhaps… Good day Professor. I hope to see you soon.”
“Likewise, Professor.”
Roy considered the halls while he left. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to moving paintings. As annoyed as he was at the headmaster, Roy was grateful the man hadn’t asked him to perform any magic. Roy didn’t bring a wand, on account of not having one, and he wasn’t sure if he could even do magic. Applying for a magic teaching job definitely wouldn’t be the place to find that out.
Roy got lost in his thoughts, mostly about how to get to his damn room (Headmaster Dumbledore had handed him a page with directions), when a large gentleman with a rather admirable beard sidled up to him. Nice facial hair , Roy thought. If he could grow a beard like that…
“Hello there! Are you the new Alchemy Professor?”
Roy started, he guessed news travels fast here. A bit odd. Roy realised he hadn’t run into a single person since he got to the castle. “It looks like it. Roy Mustang,” he held out a hand which the larger man engulfed with glee. “I haven’t entirely settled in yet. I was just searching for my room, actually.”
“Oh, I can help you with that! I know the castle can be a bit overwhelming for newcomers. You didn’t go to school here, did you? I don’ remember ever seeing you round?”
“Ah, no. I did independent study abroad. A guide would be greatly appreciated, thank you Mr…”
“Oh, sorry! Can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts.” Hagrid took one look at the paper and turned the complete opposite direction Roy was traveling. Roy tagged after him. “Since we’ll be colleagues, feel free to call me Rubeus! Only the kids call me Hagrid.”
“Oh of course! Thank you Rubeus.” A wide grin spread over the Rubeus' face and considering the man’s size it was wide . Roy knew he shouldn’t be so trusting. The empty castle painted an undeniably eerie picture, the halls empty and paintings settling down for the night. God, those arrays had taken way too long. Roy had just met Hagrid, the first person not composed of oil and acrylic, who was leading him down dim lit halls.
It wasn’t really wise to follow him, but the man exuded the large presence of Major Armstrong. Unwise or not, Roy’s subconscious gripped at something resembling home.
“So, err, Roy? Alchemy, eh?” Hagrid did not elaborate.
“Hmm? What about it?”
Hagrid looked down at Roy with barely contained… something, “This is a weird question, I know but… could I maybe call you Mustang? I mean.. Uhm…” Was the man blushing ?
Roy hadn’t even been trying to put on the charm… “Sure, whatever you’d prefer. I must admit, though, I’m curious. Why?”
“Oh, uhm it’s nothing jus’ a lil flight of fancy. I’m not just the grounds keeper see, normally, er, I’m also the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures.”
“Oh?”
“So I’m a fan of animals, see? Mustangs are… really good horses, uh sir. I know it’s real odd, but your last name makes me smile.” Odd was a bit of an understatement. Roy was expecting a lot but that didn’t even see the list.
“Okay, that’s fine.” Weird, but fine. “I can always appreciate a man dedicated to his work.”
Hagrid chuckled, “I bet you do! I couldn’t help but notice those symbols on your gloves there! They look really fancy, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
Roy tucked his hands into his pockets, “No mind given, thank you.”
“Ah, here’s your room!”
The door was plain, and took too many steps to get to, in Roy’s opinion, but he’d definitely lived in worse. At least the walls were made of actual building material and not tent flaps. “Thank you very much, Rubeus. I hope you won't mind if I end up asking for directions again in the future? Like you said, the castle is quite big.”
Hagrid looked sheepish, “Of course, but uhm… You see I’m going to be out for part of the year - on a trip to… France? But you seem like a nice guy, Mr. Mustang, so whenever I’m round, help is always available! Just say the word! I’ll be sure to put a good one in for you with the rest of the staff! We were all a bit skeptical of bringing back alchemy class after so long, but with you in charge I don’t see how it won’t be worth it!”
“That’s very kind of you, Rubeus. Thank you very much.” A trip huh? To France? Nothing suspicious about that in essence but Hagrid had hesitated an awfully long time for that to be the entire truth of the matter. Not to mention the utterly unconvincing way he trailed off at the end. Damn it, was nothing ever straightforward?
Hagrid stalked off. Roy opened the door to his new living quarters. These house elf figures, elusive as they were, had done a good job arranging things. Roy was going to return to his room in the Leaky Cauldron after meeting with Dumbledore, but damn? A queen sized bed? A bookcase? A coffee-table?
“The fact that this is going to be the nicest place I’ve ever lived is a crime.” Of course some would argue the fact that Roy was staying anywhere outside of a prison cell was an actual crime. Roy rolled his eyes at the familiar train of thought.
There would be no point in torturing himself in his quest for penance and– WAS THAT A CLAWFOOT BATHTUB?
“I take it you’ve never heard of a Roy Mustang?”
Severus shot Albus a scathing look. “No.”
“A new player this late in the game. I must admit, I cannot help but be skeptical.”
Minerva raised a brow at the headmaster, “I’d prefer that to be your paranoia acting up, Albus. The last thing we need is the Dark Lord getting his hands on the knowledge of how to create a philosopher’s stone.”
Severus scoffed, “The philosopher’s stone? Now where did that come from? All we know for sure is the man’s an alchemist of unknown origin with a penchant for transmutation circles. No connections to Flamel whatsoever” Severus leveled Albus with a look implying he better not be withholding any such connections.
“And the notes Minerva recovered from his room.” Albus added softly.
Severus’ face flashed with betrayal. “You searched his room? I would expect that from you Albus, but Minerva?”
“Oh don’t get on your soap box, Severus. It wasn’t some sort of manipulative power play. I just wanted to do additional background checks. The information we’ve been able to turn up on a Roy Mustang has been negligible at best. You’re aware as well as I am of the characters we’ve allowed slip into this school in the past. I will not have such a thing happen again under my watch!”
Severus scoffed, but relented. She had a point. Especially after last year…
“What was the contents of these notes, then? I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark.”
“Well calling them notes is a bit… generous.” MInerva’s distaste piqued Severus’ curiosity. He was expecting disgust, given the suspicion she placed on the man. Her mild distaste left a lot less for imagination. What, had the man badmouthed her favorite quidditch team in the margins of his alchemical formulas?
“You mentioned he implied the capability to create a stone. Was there something else?” Dumbledore peered at Minerva over his spectacles.
She clicked her tongue, “The way he encrypted them was beyond objectionable.”
“You have our ears, Professor. Please, go on.”
Minerva looked like she really didn’t want to ‘go on’. Unfortunately for her, that just made the occupants of the room all the more insistent.
“He formatted his notes as accounts of previous engagements . Dates, if you will. They were wildly ridiculous. No one would believe a single account. Not to mention, the sheer arrogance to think that many young women would possibly take interest in him? Positively ridiculous.”
Ah, so that was why Minerva didn’t want to tell them. Severus truly hoped that this Roy Mustang wasn’t working with the Dark Lord. He could just imagine Minerva’s face as she was forced to interact with such a scoundrel in a public setting. There wasn’t a possibility of her giving him a fair chance to make a good impression.
“Perhaps arrogance,” Albus hummed, clearly amused, “Perhaps not. I just met with Mr. Mustang. I won’t say I wasn’t charmed.”
“I cannot comment on the man’s… charming qualities.” Minerva turned to Severus with an expression on the brinking on a glare. “However, creating candy through any purely magical method does take a skilled craftsman indeed.” Severus wouldn’t think to try such a thing with alchemy, himself. Only such an eccentric as Albus Dumbledore would begin to think it an acceptable way to employ an alchemist’s expertise. He did not envy Roy Mustang.
Minerva blew air out her nose. “You make it sound as if you’ve attempted, Severus! Cooking is not so different from potions. You give him too much credit.”
“I doubt I could heap too much praise on the alchemical talent of a man who you claim single handedly produced a philosopher’s stone, Minerva.”
“Contrarian.”
“Minerva, Severus, please. We have more important matters to discuss.” Albus’ smirk cost his reproof of any command. “Minerva, do you have confirmation of his connection to the stone?”
“A connection? If the spell I used to decrypt his notes didn’t fail, then yes. I believe the exact translation was, ‘Philosopher’s stone made by Albus Dumbledore. Does he know the method? Implications dubious. Try to find instances of the array in his office.’”
“Well that doesn’t provide much room for doubt.” Severus’ tone was grave.
Albus’ face was careful, closed off. The temperature in the office had dropped several degrees. “An array to create a philosopher’s stone? That makes… a terrible sort of sense.”
“Is that not how you and Flamel went about it?” Severus asked.
The stone represented a moral quandary for any witch or wizard. Albus never confided in Severus his feelings about the story of its creation. After Flamel decided to destroy the stone Severus had totally resigned himself to never knowing.
“Me? No. If that was Flamel’s contribution to the project… At this point there is no way of knowing for sure.”
“His contribution? Forgive me if I misunderstood something Albus, but I was under the impression you two made the stone together?” Minerva shot Severus a knowing glance.
Albus shook his head, expression grim. “I played a part in perfecting the stone, but the raw material we used came from Flamel. He refused to tell me its origin, up until his death.”
“You sound doubtful. Do you think Flamel did not make the ‘raw materials’ himself? Surely Flamel was not another Gilderoy Lockhart.” Minerva’s suggestion sent a shudder down Severus’ back. As a potions master he had a lot of respect for those who delved into the more murky field of alchemy. There was no larger community to support its study. To the average wizard, alchemy's practitioners could come across as foreign as muggle scientists. Flamel was the one exception. If the man had been stealing his research, Severus didn’t think there’d be any walking back his renown now.
“No, I do not believe so. I think – and I cannot be sure, mind you – the man felt guilty.”
“You don’t think it was created using dark magic, do you?” Minerva’s eyes darted to Severus.
“No. At least not in the traditional sense. What I found most dubious about the stone, Minerva, didn’t occur to me until after its destruction.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Albus. What was it?” Minerva wrung her fingers.
“Flamel and I worked to perfect the stone, but in the end we were able to destroy it. The myths describe a stone of perfect material, unable to be destroyed. Yet Flamel and I somehow managed the impossible.”
“Well that tells us very little. When you were perfecting the stone, was there a time when Flamel could have snuck something past you?”
Albus shook his head. “I do not know. I should have asked Flamel before his passing, but I suspected that it would dredge up unfortunate memories. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I did not wish for my friend to leave this world feeling ashamed, or that I held anything but affection for him in my heart.”
Minerva nodded, “Understandable.”
“So you’ve accepted Roy Mustang into Hogwarts only to satisfy your own curiosity?” The secret behind the philosopher's stone… Severus had never stopped to consider if that knowledge was something Albus Dumbledore was worthy of possessing. Now he was forced to ponder.
“I would be lying if I said that didn’t play a factor in wanting to keep him here, protected.” Protected? That was another factor Severus would have to think over. What if the man’s knowledge of stone was more a danger to himself than to the Order? Was allowing him so close wise? Intentional danger they brought to their doorstep was one thing, but what if Roy Mustang brought danger beyond himself? Danger he himself was not even aware of. There was too much to consider here.
Minerva sighed, “I do hope you’re right about the integrity of Mr. Mustang, Albus. I am beginning to envision him playing some integral role in the events to come.”
“As am I, Minerva… As am I.”
Severus couldn’t help but agree, and he didn’t like it.