NOTE: This takes place during Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and right before the Arrancar arc.
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1: Magic and the Hougyoku
Toushirou Hitsugaya sipped his tea, working on his last batch of paperwork for the day. It had been stressful as of late, with stacks of documents arriving in each of the Captains' office every day. His Lieutenant had been of no help, preferring to skip out of the office to drink with her buddies. He gave up trying to make her do paperwork – it just resulted in Matsumoto somehow giving him more paperwork than he had before.
He scanned another piece of document. The Arrancar had been lying low, not having made an appearance in almost a month. A few days ago, there was a slight influx of Hollows in Scotland – particularly in small towns – but that was it. It was easily taken care of with a squad led by his Seventh-Seat.
Toushirou's brow furrowed. One of the Shinigami temporarily stationed in Surrey, England reported an unidentified creature capable of consuming a person's soul. A human boy holding a stick somehow managed to drive it away. Apparently, there was an unpleasant sensation of depression and despair once the Shinigami had gotten twenty feet of it. The Captain-Commander should be notified of this. Since the countries under the Tenth Division's jurisdiction are all European, this concerns him greatly. An imbalance of souls would cause a lot of trouble – not to mention the paperwork. He mentally shuddered. Contrary to popular belief, he did not like paperwork. The reason he did so much was because Matsumoto just couldn't be bothered by it.
He jotted down a few notes about the situation in England on a separate piece of paper and ordered the Shinigami to stay for a couple more months. Any sightings of this peculiar being was to be disposed of immediately.
A Hell Butterfly flew through the open door, its black-and-maroon wings gently fanning the wind. He held out a finger as it landed and listened to the message.
"Captain Hitsugaya of the Tenth Division is to go to Captain-Commander Yamamoto's office as soon as possible. Thank you."
He frowned. A summons to Yamamoto's office without three days' notice? His thoughts immediately went to Matsumoto. Maybe she set his beard on fire again. . . He winced. He didn't want to remember that particular incident. He had never seen Madarame, Abarai, and Matsumoto so red before – both from laughing and from the burns they received as punishment. Of course, Kuchiki was there too. He looked like he was about to execute Abarai right then and there.
He stood up from his (very) comfortable chair and grabbed his Zanpakutou. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his way to the First Division using Flash Steps. The even-numbered Divisions populated by black-clothed Shinigami passed by in a blur. A select few managed to see a vague, humanoid impression of grey jumping over the rooftops and waved.
Arriving at the big double doors of the First Division, he patiently waited for one of the Seated officers to fetch Lieutenant Sasakibe. His eyes wandered around the corridor and landed on an English-style vase with purple chrysanthemums perched on a platform. He hated it. It was taller than him by a few inches.
"Captain Hitsugaya." Lieutenant Sasakibe appeared and gestured for him to follow. He led the way through the halls and stopped in front of yet another set of big double doors.
He momentarily played with the thought of kicking Yamamoto's ass if this was his way of teasing him.
Toushirou entered the spacious office and spotted the Captain-Commander sitting behind his desk. Captain Soifon and Captain Kurotsuchi were also present, the latter grinning at him maliciously while the former was staring at the mad scientist suspiciously. Kurotsuchi gripped a high-tech phone in his hand.
He approached the desk and bowed. The old man's head was down, possibly dozing off again. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto."
The old man looked up and nodded, his eyes still closed. He wondered if Yamamoto developed the ability to work and sleep at the same time. "Thank you for arriving on such short notice. Now we may begin."
Toushirou sent a quick glare at Kurotsuchi before sitting down on one of the provided chairs. To his annoyance, his feet couldn't touch the ground. He thought of scooting closer to the edge, but decided against it. The chair was pretty damn high, and his feet were still going to hang off the chair. Might as well be comfortable.
Kurotsuchi, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his clown-like visage, pressed a few buttons on his device and a screen projected from the phone.
Toushirou froze.
There he was, in the middle of a moonlit glade surrounded by three Arrancars. Sousuke Aizen. Former Captain of the Fifth Division. The traitor who defected from Soul Society and stabbed Hinamori into a coma.
"Watch closely," Yamamoto murmured. "The Third-Seat of the Second Division lost her life obtaining this video."
Aizen was facing a bizarre man that looked like he had a really bad nose job. It was as if his face was pressed into one of those high-speed treadmills from the Living World. He had neither hair nor lips, and his ears stuck out in a way that might have looked elfish. He wore an elegant black robe that seemed to suck the light out of everything around him.
"Lord Aizen," said the man.
"Lord Voldemort," Aizen replied. Toushirou could see the faint smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. Arrogant bastard.
"Did you bring it?" Voldemort asked.
Aizen reached into his white robes and pulled out a small, bluish-purple sphere that pulsed inside its clear shield. The air around the orb shimmered. Toushirou caught his breath. "The Hougyoku." He smiled. "But first. Your side of the deal."
Voldemort took out a pale stick with a black handle and passed it to Aizen, who gazed at it with interest. "Lord Voldemort has it. Yew, fourteen inches, dragon heartstring from a Hungarian Horntail." He took out his own white wand and pointed at a large boulder. "Wingardium Leviosa." The boulder shot fifteen feet into the air, before stabilizing and dropping back down to the ground. "One of the simplest of Charms."
"Wingardium Leviosa," Aizen said softly, pointing at the boulder with the stick. It lifted a few feet off the ground before gravity kicked in. "Fascinating," he commented. "But useless."
"There are many more useful spells to learn," Voldemort spat. "The Dark Arts is what you are looking for. . ."
"The Dark Arts. . ." Aizen said quietly. "Show me a demonstration."
Voldemort's non-existent lips thinned while his red eyes narrowed dangerously. He pointed his stick – wand – at one of the Arrancars and said, "Avada Kedavra."
The Arrancar – stocky, with a frog-like mask covering the upper portion of his face – was sent reeling when the green flash hit him in the chest. The Arrancar briefly shook himself and went back to stand behind Aizen.
Voldemort stepped back. "Tha. . . That was the Killing Curse. It should have killed that thing."
Aizen shook his head in amusement. "Interesting. . . Your so-called Killing Curse cannot kill a creature that is already dead." His eyes darkened, and a flash of the dangerous traitor he was momentarily made an appearance. Voldemort took another step back. "What use is that to me? The people who stand against me are all dead."
He snarled and pointed his wand at the stocky Arrancar once again. "Crucio!"
This time, when red light lit the tip of Voldemort's wand, the Arrancar doubled over and screamed in agony. He dropped to the ground and squirmed, his unusually-high voice adding to the effect.
Aizen hummed thoughtfully.
"Extreme pain," Voldemort boasted. "It is the perfect curse for torturing."
"Teach me," Aizen said in his fake-kind voice, "and my Arrancars. In exchange. . ." He lifted the Hougyoku. "I will let you use this."
Voldemort's fingers twitched, obviously impatient. A second passed, and he said, "I do not know if magic works for Arrancars."
Aizen reached into his robes and pulled out another wand. Holding it near the Hougyoku, the stick twisted and morphed until it turned black. He passed it to one of the Arrancars – a slender woman with long red hair and a mask covering her right cheek.
The Arrancar waved the wand – swish and flick – and said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The pebble she pointed at floated a few inches above the ground before dropping back down.
"Arrancars can use magic," Aizen said smugly. "Who knew?"
"Fine," Voldemort snapped. "I shall teach them also. But your. . . Hougyoku – show me its purpose."
Aizen chuckled. "Its purpose, Lord Voldemort, is 'desire materialization.' I wanted that normal piece of stick to become a wand for Arrancars, and it complied. It is an intriguing ability, don't you think?" He pocketed the Hougyoku. "Mastery in magic, in return for materializing your desire. It is a good bargain." He lowered his voice. The video started shaking. "Do not attempt to swindle me, Lord Voldemort. Stay true to our negotiation, and you might earn yourself a place in the new world I will create." Without waiting for an answer, Aizen opened a Garganta and disappeared back to Hueco Mundo.
Voldemort stood there, staring at the rip in the dimensional fabric. Then he turned on the spot and disappeared with a small pop!
The now-shaky Third-Seat stood up silently and Flash Stepped away from the glade as quickly as possible.
"Captain Soifon," she whispered, "the Arrancars are –"
"Well, well, what have we got here? A little eavesdropper, hm?"
The Third-Seat dropped her phone. A flash of red hair. Tensing, Toushirou saw bits of the fight going on between the two women before the Third-Seat scooped up the phone and pressed a button. The screen turned black.
Toushirou sat in his seat, replaying the video in his mind. Aizen. . . Arrancars. . . Magic. . .
"As you can see," Yamamoto said, leaning forward, "Aizen has found a way to incorporate magic into the Arrancars' arsenal of abilities. Aizen is still, technically, a Shinigami. If he can use magic. . ." He paused. "Then so can we." He nodded at Kurotsuchi.
The scientist cleared his throat. "From what I gathered in my research, it seems magic is nothing more than manipulating one's spiritual power and the spiritual particles around him and focusing it on a conductor – the wand. The wand influences the spiritual power, morphing it according to the wielder's will and shooting the resulting magic out the tip. It is quite similar to what the Quincies do with their bows." He leaned back, satisfied with sharing his discovery. "It is basically Kidou, but with a wider variety of spells and uses."
Toushirou was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of magic.
Kurotsuchi continued, "I tried making wands of our own, but we needed a 'magical' core inside the wood to effectively operate with the condensed spiritual power. I sent one of my officers to get me a sample, and he came up with something called Kelpie hair from England. I infused it inside a length of Oak wood. Further tests on the 'wand' indicated that it radiated a very, very small amount of spiritual pressure, similar to a sentient being."
"Hold on," Toushirou interrupted. He had just gotten over the fact that magic exists, and that it had been right under his nose the entire time. And now this scientist is telling him that a piece of stick with a hair from some obscure creature is alive. "Explain."
"Well," Kurotsuchi said, enjoying himself, "the wand like a less-powerful version of our Zanpakuto. It is alive; it varies in 'personality'; and it chooses its master."
Toushirou frowned. "So. . . It has a spirit?" He didn't like the idea of another being moving inside his inner world. One dragon is enough, thank you very much.
"No, no. Not at all. It's more like the wand. . . fixes itself in your soul."
Toushirou was tempted to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he saw the impatient look on Soifon's face and refrained himself.
Yamamoto coughed. "Irrelevant to the matter at hand. The reason why I called you here, Captain Hitsugaya, is. . ." He shuffled his papers around, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. "I. . . have a mission for you."
Toushirou titled his head, urging him to continue.
"You will go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn magic and teach the Shinigami of the Gotei 13 once you finished your education." Yamamoto was suddenly very interested in his brush.
Kurotsuchi cackled silently.
Soifon frowned in disapproval.
A wide range of emotions was currently coursing through Toushirou's head. He was still shocked that wizards and magic exists. He was dreading the thought of having to go to school again. He was irritated at Yamamoto for sending him to said school. And. . . he was excited for the chance to learn something new, something most Shinigami didn't even know existed.
Yamamoto slid a piece of paper to Toushirou. Still lost in his own thoughts, Toushirou absently scanned the paper.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Hitsugaya,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Toushirou looked up, staring at Yamamoto in disbelief. "You're really serious about this?"
Yamamoto nodded gravely.
"How. . ." He read the paper again. "How did you even manage this?"
The Captain-Commander chuckled, his wrinkles creasing even more. "Albus Dumbledore is my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson."
Toushirou counted. "Twenty generations?"
He nodded, pride flashing in his red eyes. "The Headmaster knows about the Shinigami, and the situation with Aizen and Voldemort. He agreed to let a Shinigami into the school and learn the ways of the wizards, as long as he is the right age in appearance as to not raise suspicion; and is willing to help protect the school from danger. If all goes well, he expects the Shinigami to join the war against Voldemort, since Aizen has allied himself with the most terrible wizard of all. "
Understanding dawned. "Oh, damn. . ."
"First years consists of eleven-year-olds," he continued. "While you are most certainly far from an eleven-year-old, you have the appearance of one. The war is closing in, and we need to counter Aizen and his. . . magical Arrancars as soon as possible." He wrote something down. "You are the perfect candidate. You are young. You are powerful enough to provide protection to the school – unless Aizen himself comes, but I highly doubt that. You are also capable of learning seven years' worth of studies in one year." His eyes sparkled at that.
"Why can't you send someone else? We're already short three Captains. . ." He tried to think of another candidate. "Rukia Kuchiki can pass as an eleven-year-old. Maybe. Or Yachiru Kusajishi." He winced internally. Yachiru Kusajishi? He must be really desperate.
"Yes, but Kuchiki is going on another mission to the Living World next week," Yamamoto said patiently. "She, along with Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa, Renji Abarai, and Rangiku Matsumoto are to stay in Karakura Town to help the Substitute Shinigami defend it from the Arrancars."
"Matsumoto. . . is going to the Living World?" He frowned. "That woman. . ." She didn't even bother telling him!
"And do you really want Yachiru Kusajishi in a school full of wizards and witches?" Yamamoto asked.
"I know," he grumbled.
"Now." He turned to Kurotsuchi. "Captain Kurotsuchi will be researching more on the wizards and possible effects magic might have on the Arrancars. Captain Soifon, you will gather more information on the movements of the Arrancars – especially those with magical abilities. You will also send one of your officers once a month to Hogwarts to deliver any information pertaining to the situation to Captain Hitsugaya, and vice versa. Dumbledore will only let one person into the school at the end of each month." He looked at Toushirou sternly at that. "The Onmitsukidou will be your only contact with the Seireitei. The magical atmosphere disrupts our technology, which isn't adapted to magic."
Kurotsuchi looked disgruntled. He muttered something about inventing magic-resistant technology and fell silent.
Yamamoto passed Toushirou seven pieces of paper. "Your supplies. I expect you to finish school in one year, so you will need this as a reference once you finish a year." He looked down at his notes. "You are to leave for London, England in three days. You are to go to The Leaky Cauldron. A woman by the name of. . . Nymphadora Tonks will explain everything." He consulted his papers again. "Dumbledore wants you to stay at their Headquarters. She will lead you to the place after your shopping. . ."
Toushirou kept silent, even though he really, really wanted to object to the very idea of going to school again. He wondered if the students will be the same as the ones in the Academy. Prejudicial idiots. . .
". . . and Alastor Moody will be responsible for your protection."
"I don't need protection," he snapped reflexively. He instantly shut his mouth. That was why he tried – and failed – to keep silent.
Yamamoto seemed unperturbed. "I know, but they insist. And it is only for the duration of your stay at their Headquarters."
Toushirou sulked. "If it's their Headquarters, then shouldn't it be safe enough that no one would need a bodyguard?"
The Captain-Commander raised an eyebrow. "He is not for protection inside the Headquarters. He will cast a Disillusionment Charm on you while you are fighting Hollows, and watch out for anything – enemy wizards or otherwise – that might distract you."
"Right. . ." He trailed off. "So that means wizards can see us? I don't need a Gigai?"
"Yes."
He rubbed his forehead, relieved at the thought. He hated Gigais. They were so damn uncomfortable. "Alright. Leaky Cauldron. Shopping. Headquarters. School. Got it."
Yamamoto nodded, handed him a folder with necessary information, and turned back to his paperwork. Toushirou felt sorry for the old man. Those stacks were even taller than the ones in his office – with Matsumoto's. He resolved to never, ever become the Captain-Commander. The paperwork wasn't worth it.
"Oh, and Captain Hitsugaya. Please leave the ghosts alone."
Toushirou entered his office, willing it to be Matsumoto-free.
What he got was a face full of cleavage that smelled faintly of sake.
"Guess what, Captain?" Matsumoto said cheerily. "I'm going to the Living World! Want to come?"
"No," he gasped out, managing to free himself from the lethal twins of doom. "And I already knew!"
"Huh?" She scratched her head. "I don't remember telling you."
"The old man told me," he said. "I'm also going to the Living World."
She squealed. "Yay! We're going to have so much fun! I'm –"
"Not with you," he interrupted. He hesitated, wondering if he was about to reveal classified information. Matsumoto can keep a secret. . . if it's really important. He launched into a full explanation of the situation with Aizen and the wizard Voldemort; where's he's going; and when he's going to come back.
After his account, he waited for the Lieutenant's reaction. She had that mask of no emotion she wore when she's thinking deeply about something important. In his entire life, he had only seen it four times. (What does that say about her?) It was a bit unnerving, seeing the usually smiling face so Kuchiki-like. It was a perfect poker face.
"Aww, I'm going to miss you, Captain!" Matsumoto pulled him to her chest and squeezed the life out of him. "But, wow! A magic school!" She suddenly gasped, dropping her nearly-asphyxiated Captain on the floor. "You need to pack!"
"Wait, Matsumoto!" But she was already gone. He sighed. With his luck, she'll pack weird clothes that will make him stand out even more. She had good taste in women's clothing. Men? Not so much.
He examined the rows of bookshelves. He hadn't been to England in a long time, and he needed to refresh himself on their culture and language. He toyed with the idea of asking Lieutenant Sasakibe, but decided against it. That man could be so fanatical at times. Yanking out a dusty tome from the shelf, he threw it on the couch and made himself another pot of tea. Bringing the hot drink to the low table, he settled on the couch and prepared for a long day of reading.
So. . . Their names are switched around. . . How dumb. . .
Toushirou, dressed in Human clothes, stood in front of the Senkaimon, tapping his left foot on the ground. Matsumoto was late, as usual. Seriously, it didn't take three days to pack clothes and necessities. Unless. . . He sighed. She probably added a few (several) things she herself deemed necessary. He wondered if she remembered to pack his Zanpakutou.
"Captain!" Matsumoto Flash Stepped into the scene, carrying a large blue trunk behind her. "Thanks for waiting."
"I didn't exactly have a choice, considering you had my stuff," he pointed out. "And what took you so long?"
She huffed. "You want to spend the last few minutes we'll have together talking about that?" She shook her head, and then broke in a grin. "Good luck on your mission, Captain! You better teach me a few extra spells when you get back." She gave him a quick hug, and stepped back.
The Kidou Corps member opened the Senkaimon and gestured for him to go in.
It was sunny.
He stepped out, pulling his too-large trunk behind him. Humans were everywhere, pushing against each other in an effort to get to their destination faster. A bald man in an expensive-looking pin-striped suit tripped over a pebble and dropped his leather suitcase, scattering paperwork everywhere. No one seemed to notice his presence.
Across the street was a run-down shop with a sign proclaiming "The Leaky Cauldron." What a weird name. Who wants to go to a bar named after a defective kitchen equipment?
He crossed the populated street and leisurely strode inside the secret pub. Upon entry, he was assaulted with the smells of food, alcohol, and Humans.
It was packed. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes filled the room, eating, drinking, and laughing rambunctiously. Framed pictures with moving characters lined the walls. Old wallpaper peeled slightly at the edges. An old, bald man resembling a toothless walnut nodded at him behind the bar.
"Oi! Kid!"
He whirled. A young woman nursing a drink grinned and waved at him from across the room. She reminded him strongly of Yachiru Kusajishi with her short, bright bubble-gum pink hair, heart-shaped face, and bubbly aura. He jostled through the crowd and went to sit across from her table, setting his trunk beside his chair.
"I'm assuming you're Nymphadora Tonks –" he began.
"Tonks!" she said. "Call me Tonks."
"Right."
"So, is it true?" she asked.
"What?"
"That you're dead? That you're going to be helping us with the war against You-Know-Who?" she whispered excitedly.
Toushirou was confused. "Who?"
"You-Know-Who."
"No, I don't know who."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"
"That doesn't answer my question. Who must not be named?" He was getting irritated. Obviously, he was missing something here.
She rolled her eyes and looked around. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Voldemort." She sat back up, taking a large gulp from her drink. "People here don't like hearing his name. It's taboo to say that word, so we use euphemisms."
"That's stupid. It's just a name."
"Yeah." She brightened. "So are you?"
Tonks also reminded him strongly of Matsumoto – except with a less dangerous chest. "Yeah, I'm dead." If she asked that during their first meeting, then that means she was properly informed, and it should be safe to tell her. After all, who in their right mind asks if the person they're talking to is dead? "And if all goes well, the rest of us will be joining your war."
She clapped her hands. "Good. We need all the help we can get." She sipped her drink, and offered some to him. "Butterbeer?"
He shook his head. Beer made from butter? That didn't sound appetizing. Besides, he's physically underage. "Do you know about the. . . other threat?"
Her face darkened, and the happy spark in her eyes died out. He felt bad for ruining the mood. Sure, the wizards get the Shinigami as allies, but the other side also gets a super-powerful former Captain and his two henchmen backed by an Arrancar army.
"Let's not think about that," she said hurriedly. "We're supposed to be at the headquarters by sundown. Better hurry." She stood up and lifted Toushirou to his feet. She snatched his trunk and carried it to the bar. "Hey, Tom, mind watching this for us?"
Tom, the landlord, shrugged.
"Thanks. We'll also need to go to Diagon Alley." She patter Toushirou's head. "We got a new first year going to Hogwarts."
Tom ambled to a door and opened it. A normal, totally unimpressive brick wall was on the other side. He tapped his wand on the wall, and an archway appeared out of nowhere.
Must be the magic, Toushirou reflected. He was impressed. If they had this kind of magic in the Seireitei, there would be no need for the streets to be so confusing. If they replaced the four Gates with magic bricks, then there would be no need for Gatekeepers, and maybe it would prevent more Ryoka invasions in the future. Then again, Kurosaki and his gang broke into the Seireitei by fireworks. . . He made a mental note to research more on this.
Stepping through the archway (which promptly closed behind him), he gaped at the sight before him. There were even more wizards and witches here. Their fashion ranged from dull and black, to bright and yellow. Stores and restaurants lined the sides, from Amanuensis Quills to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Various stalls and stands occupied any extra space. To their left, a portly woman was selling jewellery "guaranteed to keep you safe from flesh-eating slugs!"
"Got your list?" Tonks asked.
Toushirou reached into his left pocket and pulled out a neatly folded paper. He passed it to her.
"This is for third year students," Tonks said.
"Oh." He checked his other pocket, and found the one for first years. "Sorry."
"Quite alright." She read it over. "Hmm. . . I think we should get you a wand first. It's the easiest to carry and, who knows, you might need it later. But first, we need to get your money." She led the way to a big, fancy building with bronze doors flanked by uniformed goblins. "Gringotts Wizarding Bank," she proclaimed. They entered the bank and were greeted by a stout man – a goblin – who asked what they were doing. Toushirou busied himself by memorizing the layout while Tonks talked with the goblin.
"What vault number?" Tonks asked Toushirou.
He remembered the folder Yamamoto gave him. "Vault 652." He handed her the key.
"Do you want to come?"
"No, you go ahead." He was studying the goblins scurrying around. He wondered if he should send Kurotsuchi a goblin. Watching one of them stomp off after talking to a witch, he decided against it. It would be impractical to kidnap a goblin. Besides, he never did like the Twelfth Division's Captain. The freak used to ask his Captain for permission to experiment on him.
Tonks returned with a bag of coins in hand. "Let's go!" Seizing his arm with surprising strength, she exited the bank and dragged him to an old store that looked like it had seen better days. A single wand on a purple cushion sat on display. Peeling gold letters over the door spelled out "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC."
Tonks casually strolled in and greeted an old man with white hair. His pale silver eyes glittered creepily in the dimly-lit shop. Toushirou felt slightly claustrophobic inside. Towering stacks of boxes reached the ceiling on all sides, covered in dust and dead bits of flies.
After Tonks introduced Toushirou to the wandmaker, Ollivanders set about to finding him a wand. A magic tape measured everything there was to measure. He tried to bat it away when it came too close to his eyes, but it kept on measuring.
"Hmm, interesting," Ollivanders muttered. He selected a box from the stacks and gave it to Toushirou. "Ash, 9 inches, unicorn hair." Toushirou handled the light brown wand sceptically. He did not see how this little stick thing could be considered a weapon.
"Give it a wave," Ollivanders suggested.
Toushirou complied. The windows shattered, the single light bulb exploded, and a table mysteriously tipped over. He cringed. "Oh, um, I'm really sorry –"
"It's alright," the wandmaker said, an excited gleam in his eye. "I'll fix it later." Humming to himself, he picked out another box from the stacks. "Definitely not ash. . ." He set another box in front of the Captain. "Ebony, 14 inches, unicorn hair."
Toushirou waved the wand, and a wooden chest in the corner caught fire. He managed to not react while Tonks extinguished the flames.
"Maybe dragon heartstring. . ." he murmured. "You've certainly got a lot of power. . ." He reached for a box from a particularly tall stack and handed it to Toushirou. "Aspen, 13 ½ inches, dragon heartstring from a Chinese Fireball."
Boom! An entire mountain of wands exploded, scattering the boxes everywhere. Grey smoke that smelled suspiciously of sulphur wafted from the malfunctioning wand. Ollivanders snatched it back. "Definitely the wrong type of heartstring. About as wrong as you can get." He paused, a sudden realization dawning. "Of course!" He dived deep into the boxes, pushing aside a few sizzling containers. "Let's see. . ."
Digging out an old, battered white box, the wandmaker shoved the wand at the waiting customer. "Beech, 13 ½ inches, dragon heartstring from an ancient Arctic ice dragon." He opened the box, revealing a smooth, white wand with light blue streaks running down the surface. A light blue handle with white veins embraced the bottom.
Toushirou waved it, expecting something disastrous to happen. The wand glowed blue, and he felt a chill coursing through his veins. Snow gently fell from the ceiling – how that happened, he didn't know. There weren't even clouds. It must be his affinity to ice.
Ollivanders beamed, lighting up his aging face. "Perfect."
He heard Hyourinmaru hum in agreement.
"That will be ten Galleons and twelve Sickles."
Tonks paid the wandmaker and the two left the store.
"Next," Tonks said, "we buy your uniform. Next stop, Madam Malkin's!" She swiftly navigated through the crowd and pushed him inside a clothing store. She called out for the owner, who quickly shuffled forward and started measuring Toushirou.
"First year in Hogwarts?" she asked, attempting to spark a conversation.
"Yeah," he replied absently. He looked around and noticed two heavyset teens carrying armfuls of clothes. They had that strong-but-stupid look about them. The perfect henchmen. He was tempted to ask if they already had someone hiring them.
"Gosh, you're pretty small, even for a first year."
He contained his irritation. Ever since that day his Bankai was destroyed by Aizen, he promised himself to never lose his temper. Losing one's temper just led to mistakes, and they can't afford mistakes in the middle of a war. "
"Here you go, dear." The woman handed him a bundle of clothes topped off with a pointy hat. He glared at it with distaste. What a ridiculous hat. It was even worse than Kyouraku's hat, kimono, and Kurotsuchi's face combined. Well, he might have been exaggerating, but that doesn't change the fact that the hat was absurd. He vowed to never wear it. "That would be Twelve Galleons and ten Knuts."
After paying Madam Malkin, they set off for a bookshop called Flourish and Blotts. The storekeeper handed them a stack of books after they paid in advance. As they left the store, Toushirou heard him mutter, "Thank Merlin he's not a third year."
Next, they went to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment to buy the rest of the necessary equipment. While inside, Toushirou spotted a head of red hair. For a moment, he thought it the Arrancar that killed the Third-Seat of the Second Division, and almost reached for his absent Zanpakutou, but it turned out to be a girl with fiery red hair that rivaled Abarai's.
"Yay! We're done!" Tonks exclaimed. She consulted the list. "Well, unless you want a pet."
"No," he said quickly. He would be busy enough trying to cram seven years' worth of education in one. He didn't need to worry about an animal starving to death.
She looked at the darkening sky. "Good. We need to hurry. Dumbledore's probably waiting at the Headquarters right now." She looked down at the mountain of stuff in Toushirou's arms. "Do you need help with that?"
Toushirou shook his head. He was thankful that the wizards were able to see him. The Gigai he used to wear were so weak and tight. . .
"Okay, then." She headed back to the brick wall that lead to The Leaky Cauldron. Whistling "We're Off To See The Wizard," she tapped the wall and swept her hands in a mock-bow.
Toushirou's lips twitched. He walked through the archway, Tonks following behind.
Thank you for reading!
Just a few things:
Don't expect regular updates. I might post a chapter once a week for one month, then post nothing at all for the next three months. (But I am working on the second chapter right now.) Also, if some of the characters seem OOC, you have my deepest apologies. I haven't read the Harry Potter series in a while (years, actually), and I'm still waiting for the books from the library to be available. I'm going to try my best in the meanwhile. (Oh, and if you don't mind, tell me how I wrote Voldemort. Did I write him right? Was he in character? To be honest, all I know about him is from the few bits of stuff I know and from the Wiki.)
There will be a sequel. It's way off in the future, but there will be a sequel. . . Unless I decide to just mesh it together in one story. . . But it's supposed to have a big time skip, so I think I'm just going to separate the two. . .
So, since you have nothing else to do, type up a review!