My very fist story yay! R&R please!
Dis (not)- Claim (mine)- Er (No, really) *even the disclaimer part is not mine...*
Things began to unravel when Dumbledore allowed the expulsion of Harry Potter. The ministry was unbelieving, Cedric Diggory's corpse practically came as an invitation for war, and now this. Oh, he knew it was only the beginning, but he could only hope. Hope that things would get better, that maybe, just maybe, this would all go away, but no. Fate loved to play games with him, and frankly, Harry Potter only made things worse, and examples were endless. Perhaps a day ago, (Dumbledore didn't bother try to remember, it was all the same nowadays) Harry potter used magic outside of Hogwarts. Even though his use was in self defense, against a dementor of all things, the ministry leaped upon the chance to get rid of the boy who lived, eager to get him out of the system. Which they did, but only for a while. He would be coming back to Hogwarts, not a doubt about it.
Thinking up schemes and designs of a master plan were not on Dumbledore's daily schedule, but he did do it in times of need. Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by without notice, and soon the moon was at it's full peak.
With creaking bones and popping joints, Dumbledore stood up with a quite audible grunt, and abandoned his thoughts for a cup of steamy tea. It was past midnight, for the moon was already beginning to descend, but that didn't stop him from heading toward to the kitchen. He pause however, a few yards short of the cook-room, and let a deep sigh escape from his chest. The tea awaiting him in the kitchen would have to wait, replaced by a chat with an unexpected guest. With a soft foot falls approaching his position, a small voice warned him that speaking in the hall was a questionable choice, were all ears could hear. He heeded its words, but before he could act, the silence fell.
Yes, the breeze still whistled between the cracks and crevasses in the walls, the sound of endless amounts of children shifting in their fitful sleep was still to be heard, but it was a different kind of silence. Where the feelings and presences where no where to be felt, the passing of time not evident in one's memory. Then, there followed the weight. It was an unbearable kind, the kind that binds your lips together, the kind that makes you want to tear your lips out in fear, just to let out a mangled scream from the terror that build inside your chest.
Dumbledore, however, was not affected by this weight. Due to their frequent visits, he became quite accustomed to it. Though, he did have weight, it just wasn't quite like this, of ageless wisdom and knowledge. His, was rather like a blanket. A soft, warm blanket, made from the stars and moon, granted to him for his single flaw, of being mortal. Though, he would have to say, when angered, his weight could be easily as terrorizing as the force behind him.
A low rumble, barley passing for a voice, spoke it's greetings. "I see things haven't been going to well with your war." A chuckle echoed through the dark halls.
The stress of the last few days hung heavy on his shoulders, so he currently held no patience, therefore, settling on this reply. "Things have rarely ever gone well with me, but I shall assume that it's been better than yours."
"Calm yourself. I have not approached your school for a petty fight, nor a negotiation of soldiers, I have come with an offer." He paused, as if thinking of the right words to say. "You have been harassed by the ministry, parents and monsters, all threatening the vanquishing of this school. The offer I am about to give will quell only two of your problems, but first, I must ask for your acceptance. You may not go back on your word."
Dumbledore mentally sighed, for this seemed to be another upcoming problem, only thriving to make him more weary than he is now. It was, on the other hand, going to take care of not only one, but two of his "problems,"and this man has never since been wrong with gifts. Slowly, he replied.
"I will accept. Now, what is the offer, may I ask?"
"He will have no influence over the ministry, but he does have the power to rival even myself, perhaps surpass... His name is Ichigo Kurosaki."