Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Hikaru no Go and I don't earn any money with this story.
Author's note: The bunny held me hostage and pressured me into writing this. So far I'm not sure if this will have a pairing or not, but I'm open to suggestions.
Rating: T
Warning: may or may not contain slash in the future
Harry is utterly bored and that's never a good thing.
It all starts with a half-hearted attempt at finishing his History of Magic summer homework, which quickly spirals into frustrated growling at everything goblin – their bloody countless wars in particular. Sometimes the brunet wonders how Hogwarts students have managed to get an O.W.L in the subject, when the teacher only ever drones on about one topic. Or, well, why nobody has gotten rid of Binns, for that matter.
When he's just about ready to throw his quill and parchment into the corner of his room, Harry stands up and vacates his desk instead. Approximately twenty minutes are spent listlessly leafing through an old edition of Quidditch Monthly and cursing the heavy rain pattering against his window, before he's leaving his room altogether.
Damn his friends for being out of the country or busy!
The brunet thinks of seeking out his mother for all of two seconds, before remembering that she's currently working on a new charms project and everybody knows it's a self-imposed death sentence to interrupt her. Spending time with his father and godfather doesn't even cross his mind, because Harry's currently giving them the cold shoulder and will continue to do so for quite some time. It's their own fault for thinking they can put him into a frilly, pink dress without repercussions. Needless to say, the brunet has carried out a more direct revenge, as well.
His dear uncle Mooney is – to his knowledge – mostly blameless, but the blue moon has left him cranky and exhausted and overall bad company. And uncle Peter, well, he's almost as dull as Binns.
In the end Harry roams around the manor in hopes of finding anything worthwhile to do, which ultimately leads him to one of the bigger storage rooms. Ever since he can remember the door's been locked to keep curious, little Harries out of it. As far as he knows it doesn't harbour anything overtly dangerous, but small children and old clutter usually don't mix too well.
The brunet surreptitiously checks his surroundings and draws his holly wand, when he sees neither portrait, nor family member. A quick - newly learnt - alohomora unlocks the fortunately not magically sealed door and allows him to enter a room he has never before stepped into.
Harry has barely crossed the threshold, when several light orbs flicker to life, illuminating dusty furniture and boxes upon boxes of yet hidden treasures. His boredom is blown away like sand in the wind, giving way to burning curiosity.
The first few boxes contain baby clothing and toys. He recognises some of them, other items have probably belonged to his parents. All of it is completely uninteresting.
He circles around some gaudy armchairs, wrinkles his nose at a stuffed niffler and finally reaches a cabinet. It's filled with trophies of different sizes and shapes and rows upon rows of yellowed notebooks. Harry traces the engraved name of his maternal grandfather with his fingertips, before he carefully pulls one of the notebooks out. The brunet opens it towards the middle and is greeted with the sight of a grid, lots of circles and numbers. A quick inspection of the other pages and books reveal similar depictions, albeit with different constellations. These are obviously recordings, but of what, Harry isn't entirely sure, even with the additional information at the top of each page. What the hell's a 'komi' anyway?
Crouching down reveals a peculiar wooden block at the bottom of the cabinet. Whereas the trophies and note books have seemed normal, muggle even, this block's softly tugging on his magic. It doesn't feel malicious, though.
Harry hesitates for about a split-second, before his curiosity wins out. Some dusting brings forth a familiar grid, but what really catches the brunet's attention is the bloodstain coating the entire surface. He touches them with the tips of his fingers.
"You can see them?"
Jumping to his feet with a startled yelp, Harry reaches for his wand and frantically scans his surroundings.
"Who's there?" Nothing out of the ordinary is visible, but that doesn't mean much to a magical person, especially when one of their family heirlooms is an invisibility cloak.
"And you can hear my voice?"
"Dad? Padfood? Is that you?" He certainly doesn't put it past them to play such a terrible prank on him and really, who else can it be? The wards are supposed to prevent everyone not linked to them from entering the property. Therefore, it can't be an intruder... right?
Maybe he has stumbled upon a boggart or a poltergeist? A dark, half-forgotten storage room is the perfect environment for them, after all. But why would they talk to him in a foreign language?
Biting his bottom lip, Harry stumbles backwards, trying to reach the door without turning his back to the- the being. Before he manages to make any headway, though, he feels another brush against his magic and then something inside him snaps into place. The following pressure on his mind almost brings him to his knees. The brunet swallows back the bile that creeps up his throat and stares at the person materialising in front of him in wide-eyed horror.
His knees feel weak and barely able to support his weight, but Harry pushes past the sensation and rushes out of the room like hell hounds are nipping at his heels.
He finally reaches his mother's study and bursts through the door, all previous reservations blown out of the window. What does he care about her wrath, when he's being possessed or... or something.
"MUM!"
Harry sees his mother's hand twitch in surprise, thereby creating a significant ink stain across the parchment in front of her. The brunet winces as the redhead's glare focusses on him, but the guilt is drowned by renewed panic, when the spectre floats into the room. It's talking to him again in whatever language it speaks. It sounds frantic.
Harry still feels sick to his stomach, but he absolutely refuses to give in and throw up.
The hand on his shoulder almost gives him a heart attack, which is quite a feat considering he's barely twelve and thus too young to suffer from such health issues. His mother has somehow got up from her chair and crossed the room without his notice. By now there isn't an ounce of anger on her face, instead she almost exudes concern.
"What's wrong, sweetie? Did James and Sirius prank you again? I swear-"
Harry stares first at her, then at the being and then right back at his mother. She isn't even looking at it, although it's right there in front of them!
"You... you can't see it?" the brunet askes with a faint voice and points a trembling finger at the man, woman, whatever.
Lily follows his indication with her gaze, which quickly gains a suspicious, displeased quality to it.
"Are you trying to play a prank on me, young man? If so, you've chosen the wrong person."
"No, mum! I-I went into the store room on the first floor and I found this thing with blood stains all over it and suddenly there was this ghost thing. Now it's following me and- and it's right there. I don't know why you can't see it, but I swear it's here. Please!"
Green eyes meet green eyes in a prolonged stare down, before his mother starts to cast homenum revelio and several other spells he doesn't recognise. She is most likely scanning their surroundings, but the frustrated look on her face suggests a lack of results.
"Does it look like it's going to attack you?"
Harry cautiously redirects his gaze to the spectre, which is floating around in one corner of the room. It is staring at them - him - with puppy dog eyes that would have given Sirius' a run for their money.
"I don't think so."
"Then let's call your father, before dealing with the problem."
„We should just burn it."
"Don't be stupid Prongs. The spirit may be linked to this thing, but now it has a connection to Harry, as well. Destroying the haunted object will have a detrimental effect on Harry. The backlash could even kill him," Remus growls testily and glares at Harry's father, who has started to pace like an overgrown cat. Annoying a werewolf on the day after a full moon really isn't a good idea.
Harry sighs from within Sirius' almost suffocating death grip, which is probably meant as a comforting hug, and deeply regrets ever leaving his room. Had he ploughed through the rest of his homework like a good little boy, this whole mess could have been avoided.
Barely a minute after his mother has ordered one of their house elves to fetch his father from whatever room in the manor he was currently plotting nefarious - embarrassing – things in, the whole Marauders troop had burst into Lily's study. That part has been amusing, actually, especially the rainbow-coloured glitter his uncle Peter coughed up every time he opened his mouth. Afterwards everything went downhill.
The brunet got the order to recount his little trip to the storage room in as much detail as possible, which ultimately led to the retrieval of the wooden block for further evaluation. Considering the ghost's apparent nonexistence to anyone but Harry, it doesn't come as a big surprise that his family can't see the bloodstains, either. Nobody has, so far, called him a liar, though, especially after several spells have picked up unusual readings from the muggle artefact.
According to his mother it's called a 'goban', the playboard for an Asian strategy game.
Harry's grandfather used to be a big fan of the game and a dedicated player. Before his death he had imported the centuries-old goban and because his aunt Petunia didn't have any interest in keeping the thing, his mother had taken it, the recordings and the trophies and put them in the storage room.
"What else are we supposed to do?" Sirius inquired, frowning and squeezing Harry even tighter.
"Research for better ways. I'm sure there are a few spells and rituals we can try," Remus replied, getting up. "There's no time like the present."
"Yeah, the sooner we find something, the sooner Harry will be rid of that… thing," his father growls, sounding astonishingly like he's the dog animagus instead of Sirius. Harry can understand his reaction though, because his father's uncle has been possessed by a ghost, too and it has ultimately ended in said uncle's death. Nobody wants him to suffer the same fate, least of all Harry himself.
'I've changed my mind. Being possessed can't be worse than this,' Harry thinks a few days later. He's just regained consciousness, for once without anyone hovering over him. That's become a rarity since the whole ghost thing has stared, as has surviving a day without feeling utterly miserable and puking his guts out. Sometimes he even gets a migraine or bleeds from his nose or ears. The anti-possession measures aren't going particularly well. All of them spark an awful backlash and don't even work. The ghost is still there. Actually, it's hovering on the other side of the room and looking at him with concern. Harry has started to doubt that it would even hurt a fly (if it could).
Determined, he sits up, ignoring the vague feeling of dizziness, and turns to the Japanese man.
"I'm Harry." He gestures to himself for emphasis. "Harry."
For a moment, the ghost stares at him with a blank look on his face, but then he beams and comes as close as the countless anti-ghost wards around Harry permit.
"Sai. Fujiwara no Sai."
They share a tentative smile.
Before the new school year begins, Harry's parents request a meeting with Hogwarts' headmaster to inform him of the current situation. His family is still adamant about getting rid of the connection between Harry and Sai, but are looking for ways to do it safely. They too had noticed that they were doing more harm than good, so convincing them of letting off a bit has been relatively easy.
"Wow. Learning place, really?" Sai gasps as soon as they've crossed the gates. Harry convinced his mother to buy him an English to Japanese dictionary and Harry and Sai have agreed on using the other's language whenever they're talking to each other in order to improve more quickly. It's slow-going, but at least they can communicate a bit now.
Harry nods and points everything out as they approach the front door. He's just animatedly talking about the Quidditch pitch and his hopes of joining the team this year, when they arrive at the front door. Professor McGonagall is already waiting for them and looking at Harry oddly. She probably thinks he's got a few screws loose. This isn't even normal behaviour in the magical world, after all. Instead of commenting as Harry had expected, the witch nods at them in greeting and leads them into the castle.
"The headmaster is waiting for us in his office. I hope, it isn't a dire matter, you have to discuss?" McGonagall inquires. Concern is shining through her otherwise stern expression.
Harry's parents share a look, before offering their former teacher a somewhat forced smile.
"Let's wait until we've reached the headmaster's office."
Meanwhile Sai is zooming around like a humming bird, trying to take everything in. The thing that interests him the most are the portraits. There are quite a bit more than at Potter Manor and display a variety of interesting backdrops and even more interesting people. It's a shame they don't meet one of the castle ghosts, because it would be interesting to find out if they can see Sai and interact with him.
Almost fifteen minutes later, they finally reach the phoenix stature concealing the entrance to the headmaster's office. When they enter the room, Fawkes is squawking and flapping his wings. He's also looking right at Sai, who freezes.
"What's wrong my boy?" Professor Dumbledore asks his familiar. His hand comes up to soothingly stroke the bird's breast feathers.
"He can probably sense the reason why we're here," Harry's dad mutters grumpily. He's still unhappy with the fact that they haven't found a way to cut the connection between Harry and Sai so far.
"Well, why don't we all sit down and talk about it then," the headmaster suggests and conjures a few more chairs, before rounding his desk to sit down himself.
"My son recently found an object in our storage room that was possessed by an old, Japanese ghost. Now that ghost is possessing Harry," his mother explains, eliciting a gasp from Professor McGonagall and a widening of eyes from Professor Dumbledore. "We've tried quite a few things to get rid of the ghost, but so far we're unsuccessful. We're looking into more options, but seeing as it's the new school year soon, we wanted to inform you of this matter and to ask if you maybe have an idea we could try?" A hopeful expression spread over his mother's face, which quickly disappears again, when Professor Dumbledore shakes his head.
"Alas, nothing comes to mind at the moment, but I will consult Professor Riddle about the matter. He is, after all, an expert for all things Defence. Young Harry has been safe thus far, I hope?"
"He insists the ghost is friendly and resembles an overgrown puppy more than a vengeful spirit," his father grumbles and Harry nods, when Dumbledore looks to him for confirmation.
"I'm sure he wouldn't hurt anyone," the brunet insists stubbornly. "He used to be a Go teacher a long time ago and playing go is still pretty much the only thing he wants to do nowadays. He's been teaching me a bit, but I can't really get the hang of it..." Maybe he'll ask Ron if he wants to learn once school starts. His friend is already pretty good at chess, which needs strategic thinking, too.
"You've talked to him then?" the headmaster asks eagerly interested and steeples his fingers in front of him. His lips curl into a smile when Harry nods. "Which means you must have learned at least some Japanese. Very commendable." The brunet beams proudly. "I'd like to check if the Hogwarts ghosts are able to see your new friend."
Professor Dumbledore calls one of the house elves and instructs it to fetch one or more of the ghosts. It pops away mid-bow. While they wait, Harry tries to relate to Sai what is going on and when he understands, his new friend seems excited to meet fellow ghosts. A short while later Nearly-Headless-Nick and the Grey Lady drift through the wall, but freeze upon spotting Sai.
"A new colleague? What a peculiar way to dress," Nick gushes as he drifts closer. He puts his arm across his chest and bows. When he straightens up again, his head flips to the side. "Welcome at Hogwarts!" All of them are used to Nick's almost headless state, except for Sai, who shrieks and dives behind Harry, peeking over his shoulder. Harry can't help laughing, imagining what they probably look like right now. The Grey Lady quirks a small smile, while Nick looks nonplussed.
"Harry," Sai whispers, his voice frantic. "His head!"
"What's happening?" His father asks with a frown, his gaze flicking back and forth between Harry and the two ghosts he can see.
"Sai's startled," Harry explains, still giggling and vaguely motioning towards his own neck in explanation. Sai drifts further away and pouts. "I guess that answers the question whether or not they can see each other." And the brunet is certain his parents (or Professor Dumbledore) will talk the Hogwarts ghosts into keeping an eye on Sai in order to make sure Harry is safe. As long as he isn't constantly followed by them, he really doesn't care.