Disclaimer: The people who own Harry Potter and Trinity Blood are rich and dead, respectively. I am broke and very much alive, last time I checked.
In London, England, there exists a pub. A tiny, grubby pub. Actually, in that particular city there are too many pubs of that description to count, but this one is special. To most people it is invisible. Their eyes slide right over it, from the book shop on one side to the record shop on the other. To the people who can see the pub, those who can't are known as Muggles, and the pub itself is the Leaky Cauldron. It has a long history, built as it was around 1500 by Daisy Dodderidge. But its age is not the most spectacular thing about the Leaky Cauldron. Besides being a pub it is a doorway to Diagon Alley, the hub of England's wizarding society.
Today a well-dressed man of middle age walks through London, his cane clicking on the sidewalk as he turns onto Charing Cross Road. Sharp eyes stop and scan the shop fronts. He withdraws a pair of rectangular spectacles from his breast pocket and puts them on. This time when he scans the road his face lights up and he immediately begins walking again.
Now, if one was watching this man closely he might seem to disappear somewhere between a book shop and a record store. Luckily, no one was looking. Inside the Leaky Cauldron the man looks around at the crowded room. Though dark and shabby, it somehow manages to give off a welcoming air. He approaches the toothless old man at the bar. "Tom?"
"How can I help ya?"
"I've heard you have a private parlor that a man such as myself might rent for meetings and the like?"
" Yes, but it'll cost ya."
"Money is no object," says the man with the spectacles, reaching into his pocket a withdrawing a fat golden coin. He slides it across the bar to Tom, asking him, "Is it alright if my associate pays the rest after our business is concluded?" Tom looks happily stunned at mention of 'the rest' and hurries to hide the coin on his person before nodding and answering, "That'll do. This way." He leads the bespectacled man down a narrow hall into aforementioned parlor. Tom looks on as the man inspects his surroundings. Polished oak furniture, a large fireplace, and no mirrors or pictures to gossip… "This is perfect Tom." The old man gives a rather disturbing grin and nods. He opens his mouth to speak when the amount of noise from the main room increases dramatically. It doesn't sound like a brawl, instead it seems that someone well known and liked has entered.
Tom turns, ready to hurry back to his clientele, but is stopped in his tracks when he sees the man approaching. "Dumbledore!" he exclaims, face practically splitting in two his smile is so large. "What brings you to my small pub this evening?'
"Tom you are too humble. You run a fine establishment. As for my being here, well, I have a meeting, and it seems I am running the tiniest bit late." The tall, elderly man in colorful robes looks past Tom to the man standing in the middle of the parlor. Eyes behind half moon spectacles meet eyes behind rectangular ones and both men smile. Tom glances between the unknown client and the well known one. "Well, I'll leave ya to your business then."
The man identified as Dumbledore steps into the parlor and closes the door. "As you may have guessed, I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"I am William Walter Wordsworth. Father Wordsworth, if you will. Now to business. Professor Dumbledore, why have you contacted the AX?'
AN: I was reading 2stupid's Harry Potter and Trinity Blood crossover when this hit me. Don't expect regular updates – I have enough on my plate as it is. That said, the more reviews I get the more motivated I am to continue writing.