Story: Serenity
Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter nor Yu-Gi-Oh.
Author: ChocolateCherryGenesis
Summary: Bakura Ryou finds himself invited to a magical school in Europe. Seeing no real reason to decline, he accepts and begins attendance at Hogwarts. Really, what could wizards possibly throw at him that he has not see before in his adventures? Wizards find that perhaps the strange boy unfamiliar with their world may be just what they needed: especially when accompanied by a mysterious spirit with the powers of a long forgotten era of Egypt.
Published: January 31, 2013
Notes: I love Yu-Gi-Oh crossovers, and I wanted to add to the collection! This is going to be all about Bakura and Dark Bakura - because there are already so many good stories that focus on Yugi and Dark Yugi. This story takes place after the Millennium World RPG arc, though I changed it so that Zorc was removed from Dark Bakura and now Dark Bakura is not completely insane. Instead, he's only mostly insane. And I know I see this often, but Dark Bakura will also have the ability to gain his own body for a while, so long as he is close to Ryou.
Introduction
Serenity
The state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled. (His/Your, etc., Serenity) a title given to a reigning price or similar dignitary.
A white haired boy sat quietly at his kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal with a strange calmness. From the darkening light streaming through the open window, it was apparent that it was later on in the day, near sunset. The boy's eyes were glazed as he daydreamed, not paying attention to his surroundings.
A sudden loud thump came from the other side of the table as another white haired boy sat himself down. Their appearances were almost completely similar. Their hair was arranged in the same manner; they wore the same clothing. They were seemingly identical to the smallest detail.
A white and blue t-shirt was striped horizontally, covered by a white button-up. Black trousers were above plain white tennis shoes. Though unseen, a belt lay around their waists. But it was not the belt itself that was important to note, but what was hanging on the side of it. It was an innocent small box just slightly larger than a deck of playing cards, hanging near their right hands within easy grasp. But there was a painfully obvious difference between the pair.
The new arrival's eyes were more narrow, filled with distrust. The shadows of his face were deeper, his face thinner. As he lounged on the other kitchen chair, he appeared to have immediately staked his claim of territory upon his surroundings, like a predator. He claimed the name "Bakura," but was also called "Bakura the Tomb Robber" to those who knew of his past. Yet another title of his had been "Thief King Bakura." The being resided within the golden ring shaped necklace that hung from a cord upon both their chests, a spirit stuck there for five thousand years.
In vivid contrast, the other occupant of the table was peaceful and quiet. His eyes were wider, his cheeks brighter with life. He sat properly perched on his chair, elbows off the table and modestly remaining where he was instead of responding to the other's rudeness. His name was Bakura Ryou, with the family name preceding as is the custom in Japan. A normal boy, who had been gifted with an ancient Egyptian artifact known as the Millennium Ring when he was younger –– the same ring that housed the spirit.
As he heard the noise caused by the other occupant of the kitchen, Ryou looked up with a soft smile. "Where have you been?" he asked quietly. It was not a quiet related to fear of the other, at least not any longer, but a quiet born of having defeated fear and become stronger from the experience.
The spirit of the ring rolled his eyes. "I went in through the window –– what do you think I was doing?" he asked sarcastically
Bakura was referring to his habit of climbing the emergency stairs in the small alley instead of entering the apartment building's lobby in plain sight. Whenever the thief was planning on doing anything even slightly illegal, he always took the window just to mess with the minds of those who might have tried to follow him. Besides, Bakura always found it extremely amusing to see the mental effects on his enemies after they saw a white haired teenager walking around his apartment building but knew for a fact that the white haired teenager was actually out on the streets.
Ryou frowned. "You should not steal," he said firmly. "It isn't right." They had argued over this countless times, only to come to a general compromise. As long as Bakura did not kill anyone or steal anything important, Ryou would not actually take action to stop Bakura from leaving the apartment. Ryou highly looked down upon stealing, but it had always been part of Bakura's way of life. Bakura could see no reason to stop, no matter how many times Ryou tried to pound honestly into his head.
"Yeah, yeah," Bakura snorted, waving a hand in the air to shoo away Ryou's complaints.
The boy sighed, but let it rest for the moment. "I really do mean it," he said. "But we have something important to discuss in the meantime."
Bakura perked up in interest, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. "Really? If you force me to attend another birthday party and face the rest of those pipsqeaks . . ." His eyes narrowed in an unspoken threat, but if one looked deep enough, there was also a bit of horror in their depths.
"No, no," the softer one said with an amused look, remembering that one time that he had managed to convince Bakura that it was in his best interests to stop by and offer a Happy Birthday to Muto Yugi. "I received a letter."
"A letter?" Bakura questioned with disbelief. "What could possibly interest me in a letter? Unless it's another invitation to a tournament. Kaiba sure knows how to host 'em, even if he can't win 'em!"
Ryou coughed into his hand to bring the other back to attention and to hide his smile at the way Bakura had both complimented and insulted Seto Kaiba in the same breath. "That isn't it," he said. "It is an invitation, but not to a tournament."
"Not to a tournament?" Bakura repeated harshly. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Then it's a waste of my time!" Bakura's eyes opened and he stood up, nearly kicking his chair over, and marched toward the window, whose red curtains were flowing with a breeze.
As Bakura prepared to leave –– through the window, yet again –– Ryou grabbed Bakura's arm with a frown to prevent the other from leaving.
"It's important," Ryou insisted, uncharacteristically somber.
Bakura glared for a moment at the test of his nonexistent patience, but eventually walked further into the room and turned his back to the window. "So?" he asked with annoyance as he plopped down into his chair again, the wooden piece of furniture groaning in protest at the rough treatment.
"It's to a school," Ryou explained, sitting back down onto his chair and avoiding the irritated gaze of Bakura. "A school in Europe for Wizards."
"Wizards?!" Bakura screeched. He lunged toward the metal tin on top of the refrigerator where he knew that Ryou kept all their mail. He shuffled through the box of envelopes noisily before reaching something thicker than paper. His fingers, instead, brushed crisp parchment.
Bakura nabbed the letter and studied the ornate wax stamp on the back for a moment before opening the envelope and tugging the actual letter out. He unfolded the thick parchment, dropping the matching envelope on the counter absentmindedly as he leaned against the kitchen table. His eyes scanned the letter, mouth alternately grinning or scowling depending on where he was within the written explanation of the existence of magic and wizards. (1)
As Bakura finished perusing the letter, he turned to Ryou. Though he often was harsh with Ryou for his high moral standards, which he most certainly did not approve of and got in the way of many of his plans, the Thief King did trust the boy to be truthful. "The owl?" Bakura questioned, referring to the owl mentioned in the letter meant to be used to reply to the writer.
Ryou smiled, pointing to the door leading out of the kitchen. He was pleased that Bakura's reaction had been calm and logical, unlike the explosion of a volcano Ryou had anticipated at the unexpected news. "He's in the living room," the boy said, flicking his head to the location in question. "He looked tired from the journey, so I fed him some bacon and let him perch on the back of a chair. He's been dozing ever since."
Ryou watched as Bakura left the room and then turned to his now empty bowl on the table, tossing it in the small white dishwasher. He pressed a button to turn the machine on and quickly wiped down the table and counters before turning to the living room to join Bakura.
Just a few seconds earlier, Bakura left the kitchen, still clutching the letter in his hands, to enter the living room and study the bird.
The living room was simply furnished with a couch and a pair of comfortable looking chairs on either side of the couch. On the opposite wall, a mirror hung above the mantel, while on the mantel itself were many pictures of Ryou and a group of other teenagers in locations varying from modest warm homes to places like in front of the Eiffel Tower and Egypt near the pyramids. There were even a few unmistakable pictures of Ryou and these people receiving trophies.
A hallway led to the other rooms in the apartment while a doorway led to the kitchen and another, stronger doorway with many locks led to the outside of the apartment. Small bookcases covered many of the walls, filled with the comforting sight of many, many books and mementos brought back from their adventures.
Bakura ignored all this and marched directly to the far chair to lean down and stare at the bird from less than a foot away. It was, indeed, an owl. An owl that, apparently, delivered mail transcontinentally without getting lost and without tiring over the water separating Japan from the rest of Asia and shortly afterward falling hundreds of feet to its doom by drowning.
In the meantime, Ryou had finished his light cleaning of the kitchen for the day and had been curious about Bakura's rather interesting response. Ryou had expected some sort of disbelief followed by denial. Not this nearly instantaneous acceptance. He leaned against the doorframe connecting the living room to the kitchen and crossed his arms. The boy calmly watched Bakura's study of the avian, knowing that Bakura's knowledge and insight into matters of magic far outweighed his own.
"Definitely Wizards," Bakura said out loud.
Ryou blinked in confusion. "You know about Wizards?" he asked in surprise, shivering as a cold gust of wind came from the open window in the kitchen. He mentally made a note to start badgering Bakura into closing the window after himself as the weather became cooler. His brown eyes glittered in interest. "What are they like?"
Bakura snorted, looking back at Ryou with a sigh. He knew that Ryou would not leave him alone until he spoke. Ryou could be annoyingly persistent, in his own strangely patient way that inexplicably had the effect of making a person want to talk to him and feel guilty if they did not.
The five thousand year old spirit gave up his idea to withhold information, willing to lose this particular relatively unimportant argument. "Even back in Ancient Egypt, there were a few Wizards that were brought in for double checking the wards of the tombs, verifying their strength," Bakura explained. "Other than that, a small group of Wizards were known for wandering across the desert on the East side of the River Nile, toward the North. They were always clothed in white robes and were all in possession of a piece of jewelry somewhere on their person made of a powerful material that glowed silver. The Shardstone, they called it."
Bakura studied the owl once again, petting its soft feathers. The owl opened an eye to see who was disturbing its rest before moving closer to the petting hand, clicking its strong looking beak a few times. It again closed its eyes to go back to sleep, preparing itself for the long journey back to wherever it came from that was surely in its near future.
"I met them, once," Bakura said after a short pause. "My tribe of thieves came across their tribe of Wizards completely by accident. Since we had nothing to lose, we traded some of our goods for their healing medicines. It was hard to get good medicine from the cities or villages back then, since so many of us were well known outlaws and the healers all reported back to the Pharaoh."
Ryou sat down on the couch, tired from his day but fascinated by Bakura's story. He leaned over to a nearby bookcase and pulled out a book whose contents concerned ancient Egypt –– one of many such books within Ryou's possession. Ryou flipped the green colored hardback open to a page with a map marked, theoretically, where a short list of villages and such most likely existed some time ago. Soon after Ryou had bought this particular book on ancient Egypt, Bakura had snorted at the inaccuracy and promptly drew the actual locations of over the map in permanent marker.
"Really?" Ryou asked, looking at the desert area in question and tapping the area with his finger. "Could you tell me more?"
Bakura's eyes narrowed. He hated being asked to tell stories. He always got nostalgic, and he hated nostalgia. He much preferred retaliation to the wrongs he believed he had been submitted to. And, then, Bakura just took joy out of being unhelpful in general, just as Ryou himself enjoyed being charitable and sympathetic. Bakura seriously considered telling Ryou "no" like usual, but then he thought back to his memory and shrugged. It really would not hurt anything. Bakura had no emotional ties to it, unlike the massacre of Kul Elna or his fights agains the Nameless Pharaoh.
"Fine," Bakura snapped, leaning against the wall. "It had been two weeks since our last venture into town to grab supplies," he explained. "We had a hideout two days into the desert under the ground and free from the burning rays of the sun. When we first found the hideout, it was a ruin. I still don't know what it was used for. But when we found it, we fixed it up and made it into a safe haven when the Pharaoh sent out his soldiers to find us."
"After you attacked his people and stole his supplies," Ryou added, eyes narrow as he caught yet another of Bakura's common attempts to place blame on the Pharaoh's shoulders.
To say that the Thief King and the Pharaoh did not get along was like saying Kaiba liked his Blue Eyes White Dragon card –– a vast understatement. The battles between the Thief King and the Pharaoh were the contents of legend to the few remaining tribes of ancient Egypt, surviving five thousand years though it had been forgotten by almost all other peoples and nations. For that matter, the lengths that Kaiba went to in order to gain all four Blue Eyes White Dragon cards caused an old man to be sent to the hospital and the previously mentioned five thousand year old Pharaoh to Mind Crush the teenage Kaiba in order to prevent such an occurance from happening again.
I repeat: vast understatement.
Bakura glared at the resolute boy, trying to will Ryou to retract his statement. After a while, when it became apparent that Ryou would not allow Bakura's slander to stand after all, Bakura simply sighed and repeated dully, "After I attacked his people and stole his supplies."
Ryou smiled softly in humble victory. While Bakura was the stronger of them in magic and personality, Ryou was the stronger in pure old fashioned stubbornness. It was that same stubbornness and strength of will that had forced Bakura to either start behaving or face Ryou tossing the Millennium Ring into the toilet again and again and again, since Bakura always magicked the Ring back onto Ryou's neck no matter the Ring's location. Clean, thankfully, since Bakura had to transport the Ring back to its place which meant that the Ring fazed through all other matter. And then there was the garbage trucks and landfills and rivers and oceans and long abandoned frightening depths in the local library . . . Ryou was creative when the situation called for it, and Bakura had not been overly happy at finding out that particular trait of the deceptively kind hearted white haired child.
Bakura continued. "In Ancient Egypt, the commoners had a nickname for those wizards. They called them Shard Sorcerers, since their powers came from the Shardstones worn in their jewelry."
"How did they use their magic through those stones?" Ryou asked. "Is it like the magic wands that the European wizards use?"
"Yes and no," Bakura answered. "From what the letter says, the wand chooses the wizard in their culture. No two wands are alike, they claim. But in Egypt it was different. The Shard Sorcerers received a Shardstone at their birth, taken from a large glowing stone protected by the Guardian of their tribe. Only the Guardian and his Apprentices knew the exact location of the Stone. Since the Shardstones are actually just small pieces of the bigger thing, all the Shardstones were identical except for in size and shape. This was also the source of their telepathic connection to all other members of the tribe."
"Wow," Ryou said, whistling in awe. "A telepathic connection?"
"Yes," Bakura answered. "And since their particular link was controlled by the Stone, they could not lie when using it. This was the reason why the tribe lasted hundreds and hundreds of years without one single civil war. Any rebellions were found out the moment they were born, and the leaders of these rebellions were cast out of the tribe. Sometimes that was good, and sometimes that was bad. They were not a bad people, but they were a strict people."
"Hm," Ryou hummed, placing the book back onto its bookcase before leaning back on the couch. "Is there anything else you know about them?"
Bakura shook his head. "Not much. I met with their Council of Elders to agree on the terms of our trade, but they did not ask for too much and I honestly did not dare anger them and their mysterious magicks too badly. So I accepted their terms without the use of tricks or trying to gain more than my share, which was a first for me in regards to trading." Bakura grinned unrepentantly, reminded of his many adventures as the leader of thieves.
Ryou chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure it was," he agreed with genuine amusement. He looked up at the clock, finding himself surprised that the time had passed so quickly during Bakura's storytelling. It was already almost eight thirty! He thanked Bakura warmly before standing from the couch. "It's late," he explained. "I'm going to go to bed. Good night –– and don't forget to close the window."
"Night," Bakura mumbled insincerely, turning away from Ryou and concentrating on the owl.
All those memories also reminded him that it was only a short while after meeting the Shard Sorcerers that he robbed the tomb of the previous Pharaoh and started a war with what was then the current one. This was the war that had ended with both the Pharaoh and himself forced into a dream sleep and locked away within a Millennium Item for five thousand years with the corrupting presence of the monster named Zorc.
It had been such a long time that when he came out, he was bitter and half insane. Scratch that –– fully insane.
He had forcibly taken over Ryou's body and used his magic to cause pain and suffering in others, just as Zorc had intended. He had forced Ryou to fight his friends. And while Bakura hated to be sympathetic and refused to ever show it, he still felt some measure of guilt over the incidents. It was only after the Millennium World RPG that Bakura had mostly recovered from the influence of the dark energy, though he had managed to gain a little bit of sanity during the Battle City tournament. Bakura looked down the hall for a moment, hearing the sound of Ryou's bedroom door closing behind him.
Bakura turned back toward the owl, who opened its eyes and flew onto Bakura's shoulder. The avian groomed and arranged a lock of white hair in a comforting manner.
Bakura snorted quietly, talking to himself in a murmur. "And the Shard Sorcerers always managed to fall into the worst sorts of trouble."
(1) Did anyone recognize the clever little reference in this paragraph? Look over it carefully, thinking of the older Yu-Gi-Oh anime Season 0. Let me know if you caught it!
To Be Continued
Please Review; Constructive Criticism Welcomed!