Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto

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Obscurci

Chapter One: The Distinguished

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How, how am I supposed to feel
When everything surrounding me
Is nothing but a fake disguise
I don't know,
I don't know where I belong
It's time for me to carry on
I'll say goodbye;
Can't stop the Rain—Cascada

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The clouds crowded around the small village as the man stood there at the door, a black umbrella hovered above his head as he glowered at the door. His lips set out into a thin line as he tapped his dragon hide boot irately. He simply stared at the door, contemplating on whether to knock again. He was fairly sure that the residents heard him, but were just ignoring him. He scowled and ground his teeth together before running his fingers through his bristling silver hair.

It was a fact that Albus Dumbledore loathed rain and it always put him into a sour attitude, though he would have to cover it when the people answer the door. Though he still doubted it would be anytime soon. He couldn't hear the footsteps that were supposed to be walking towards the door. It was rude to keep a guest out in the rain. He sighed and smoothed out some of the wrinkles in his robe. His silvery-blue eyes had a strange glint behind the half moon glasses as he fingered his wand that rested in his pocket. He pressed his lips together again and observed the doors. They were very elaborately decorated. It was as if they were trying to put out that they were a very rich and influential family. The picture of Lucius Malfoy flashed before his mind and he chuckled at the proud Malfoy before he looked down, along the walls. Decorative ivy crawled up them and the walls seemed to be architecturally scraped in an elegant way with—what he suspected—rare blossoms budding and blossoming along the vines.

He continued to observe just before the door in front of him opened, a young man with white eyes stared at him with incredibly curious eyes. The long, midnight colorred robes would truly strike a chord of curiosity with anyone. Though the natural suspicion came with it, after all, they were in a war right now.

"Hello," Dumbledore greeted with a gentle smile, trying to ease the young man's nerves since they were splayed out on his face. "May I come in?"

The young man hesitated and his eyes raked up the older man's form, before deducing the fact that he could probably beat the old man if it came down to it. He moved out of the way before looking back and calling out, "Hiashi-sama! You have a guest."

There wasn't an answer, but the young man motioned for Dumbledore to follow him through the maze of hallways before standing before a large, set of paper, sliding doors. He stood before them just as a controlled breath escaped his lips before he took another curious glance at the man that stood before them. The young man pressed his lips into a tight line before setting his gaze into the room. There was the outline of a desk, a man behind it and two kneeling figures; one was smaller than the other. He knew who they were; both were his younger cousins. His hand shook slightly as he reached towards the door handle. It wasn't a rumour that he was only slightly intimidated by the head of the household.

"Come in," Hiashi's voice came from inside the room in almost a whisper; there was no need for a booming voice when your whisper could command the attention of the entire room. The young man straightened up and opened the door, walking in before Dumbledore. He followed the young man—who was now kneeling, his nose nearly touching the ground. "Konbanwa, Hiashi-sama," He said respectfully. Hiashi nods, his own white eyes flashing over to the older man standing there. Not kneeling, not doing anything that would seem to imply any sort of respect. He was looking at the head of the Hyuuga family as an equal.

Hiashi bowed his head quickly to the older gentleman standing there and he dipped into a respectful bow himself before looking at the Hyuuga head with an odd twinkle in his eye. His gentle smile seemed to catch him off guard. "Good evening, Hiashi-san," Dumbledore said in fluent Japanese. Hiashi's eyes became steely as he watched the man warily, suddenly aware of the chakra than ran through the man's veins.

"Good evening, Dumbledore," He said. "Are you here to be an informant?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a chuckle as he turned his gaze to the adolescents kneeling on the ground. The smallest had dark brown hair that swept over part of her eyes and the same white eyes with a bare tint of lavender, a look of defiance reflected in her eyes. The other girl that sat next to her was biting down onto her lower lip with black hair that stuck out in the back oddly, bangs that covered her forehead and two locks that framed her face; her eyes were the same as the girl she sat next to, just with a gentler aura. The boy had long, brown hair that was tied into a pony tail and a firmly set face; he looked the most like Hiashi than the girls did. All three of them wore headbands; the boy and the small girl around their foreheads and the girl with the strange hair around her neck. He quickly turned his gaze back to Hiashi, who held his hand out as if giving him permission to start before he turned towards the teenagers before him. The explanation began.

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"—and so, all of you are wizards," He said before he added, "And witches."

The smallest of them stood there, her cheeks flushed pink and her lips set into a tight line; she felt as though she was completely and utterly insulted. Though her lips were pressed so she wouldn't say anything out of line, there was the thing that wasn't supposed to be said. The one with the strange hair was simply kneeling there, her bangs covering her eyes and her fingers curling around the material that covered her lap; her bangs were naturally to cover her eyes, though she often brushed them out of the way. Lines of frustration took to around her eyes and her eyes were closed. The boy was simply staring straight ahead, as if Dumbledore hadn't said a word. Not even a strain of emotion traced out on his face even though there seemed to be a line indented between his eyebrows; frustration.

"The term begins on October 1st," Dumbledore continued as he looked at each person carefully, trying to make sure he was clear. Each teenager straightened automatically under his steely gaze. Then he turned back to Hiashi with his lips set into a grim line.

"They will pack their bags tonight," Hiashi said as soon as he received the gaze, "you may collect them tomorrow."

Dumbledore looked over at the children again, the middle child squirmed under his gaze and bit harder onto her lower lip. He gave them a gentle smile and the girl with strange hair almost immediately relaxed, but her position didn't lessen from the strain that she held. He could almost feel the urge she felt to impress her father and to live up to the Hyuuga expectations. The loyalty that she pressed to her father, her sister and cousin; he was sure he could see her doing the same to any friends she had and his gaze softened on her. The younger girl had the same loyalty, but she seemed to breathe fire. Her eyes danced in it and the stubborn defiance shined in every detail that outlined her face. The boy seemed headstrong and cold, though he also held the loyalty with a chip lining the strings that held him there. Emotionally, he seemed the strongest of the three.

"I will collect them tomorrow," Dumbledore said before disappearing in a flick of his wand, leaving them in pure awe of what happened. Hiashi didn't even looking at the three before going back to his paperwork.

"You are dismissed," He said breezily, "go pack your things."

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Hinata bit her lip again as she gently folded her clothes and pushed them into a trunk her father had been so gracious to buy her. She may have been the dejected heiress, but she was still his daughter. He couldn't deny her especially after all of the training she had gone through. Maybe this would help that. If it would, then why were these tears rolling down her face? Why did these tears sting so dearly?

She quickly wipes them off and looks out the window, blinking away the stinging in her eyes. The birds were chirping, branch members were training, the wind was whistling and everything seemed to be normal. Though she wasn't normal. She always knew she wasn't normal. It always happened this way. It was one of the reasons she was the dejected heiress. Her sister hardly showed any sign of being a witch, but it seemed to hurl out of her own body. It terrified her and she didn't want to get involved in witchcraft. It scared her because she didn't know what it was.

It made her feel oblivious; she didn't like that feeling of cluelessness even though she was only at average intelligence; unlike her genius cousin or the beautiful, smart, and soon-to-be healer Sakura Haruno. She blinks away the burning behind her eyes again and slams her trunk closed, she didn't have many clothes and part if it was filled with training objects. She lets out a shaky breath before brushing the hair out of her eyes and blinks away the tears as the sunlight gave her an indigo halo. The bare slit appeared down the middle of both of her irises.

--

Hanabi resisted cursing as she threw her stuff into her trunk in a mess. Her brow furrowed and profanities murmured under her breath. She knew better, she knew that her family were ninja and could hear everything she did. The words murmured under her breath resembled growls as she slammed her trunk shut and moved onto her next trunk, throwing the clothes in a mess into her bag as she stormed up to a window. Her brow furrowed and her lips turned down into a permanent, defiant, scowl. Her fingers curled into fists as she stared out the window in her room.

Those damn birds were singing while she was going through this damnable experience, DAMN IT!

Her teeth ground together as she stared off, the hot, uninvited, tears rolled down her cherry red cheeks. It just wasn't fair! She wanted to stay here and because her mother had to be a witch meant she had to be one. She didn't care about being a witch! She just wanted to live here. Protect her friends here. Train here. Be happy HERE.

She angrily threw a large, silver locket her mother left to her to the ground, hoping it would shatter. She didn't even know her mother! All she knew was that she died giving birth to her, it was her own stupid mistake that she was born. So why was she so mad at her mother? Why did she care what her mother was? She was still her mother. Hanabi almost wished her mother wasn't her's.

--

Neji stood there at the end of his bed with one trunk sitting at the end of his neatly made bed. His eyes blank, but on the inside he was absolutely seething. It was hard enough for him to make connections with people when he started at the academy and he had indulged himself in training. He practically tried to bury himself in it and only Lee and TenTen would keep him company in those times. Now he needed to start all over and waste this stupid time in a 'prestigious' school for witchcraft and wizardry. If it was so 'prestigious', then why wasn't he enrolled there when he turned eleven—he was now 15. He would now have to catch up, while training to prove that he was the genius, not any main branch snoot. It was him, no one else.

Now he was going to have to get up on his work and his eye twitched at this as he continued to stare at the empty trunk. It wasn't worth it to him. It simply wasn't. Nothing was worth the immediate embarrassment he was going to go through. His body began to shake and he ground his teeth together. He pursed his lips and begins to fold his clothes into the trunk. He might as well get this over with even though it was just going to be hell.

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Dumbledore, once again, stood at the large doors without an umbrella hovering over his head. It was no long raining and this left the mist that hovered over the beds of flowers that rested near the other side of the house even though he could catch the beautiful, floral aroma from where he stood. A gentle smile graced his lips at the muggle flowers, they were simply delightful. He sighed and rapped his knuckles against the door again and waited. This time there was scuffling and calling out. He could distinctly hear the large banging of trunks that came through the hallway and rested beside the door. The people cursing under their breath before going quiet. Then, the door opened.

There stood Hiashi, as emotionless as ever, with the three adolescents standing behind him; not a trace of emotion on any of their faces. A surge of pity ran through Dumbledore for them, they were trained so well that they probably wouldn't want to have this happening at all. Though this flicker of emotion quickly disappeared from his face and he gently smiled again before pulling out a broken kettle in front of himself.

"Each of you grab your suitcase and put at least one finger onto this," He said and they stared at it warily before the youngest—the defiant one—walked forwards with the two bags, both grasped in one hand, she put her small palm on the cool surface of it. The other two followed suit only to be jerked and pulled through a tight tube that seemed to be missing the dearly needed oxygen. Then, they fell against the cobblestone street, several strange stores surrounding them.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

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A/N: I'm debating on what houses they'll be in. Well, not Hinata. I already know what house she'll be in. I'm debating Neji between RavenClaw and Slytherin, though I'm leaning closer to Slytherin. That's the only one; I already know which one Hanabi is going to be in. I'm also doing it according to their personalities, not what colour would look best on them, not what love interest I want them to have, they're actual CANON personalities.