Ch. 4- July (snippets from a hectic summer, part 1)
The next day, June 28th, was the new moon. At sunset, Kurama took a vial of mint oil and a rose branch from the box, to cast the first of the spells in the instructions his father had left him. It was a long one, entirely in Latin, and he had needed to practice most of the day to get his mouth around some of the sounds.
"Ego evoco mater immortalis," he murmured, hoping his accent wasn't ruining the spell. "Illa qui sumit terrae et maria, escae et refugium." He annoited the tips of the branch with drops of the oil, the scent of mint sharp enough to sting cold behind his eyes, and rubbed it in carefully. "Astrum nox et textum res reposcite suus potestas, renasce pariter luna." Relief washed through him as the oil shimmered and power washed through the branch, turning the fifteen-year-dry stick as fresh as if it had been cut from its bush seconds before. A tiny droplet of sap oozed from the thicker end onto his finger.
Perfect.
-0-0-0
Life at the Dursleys had never been particularly pleasant. Once again, Harry shut himself away in his room when he returned from Hogwarts, coming out as rarely as possible. The very first week, though, a commotion downstairs brought him out.
"Mrs. Figg has gone missing!" he heard his aunt announce. He could easily hear her delight at the drama of the (normal, non-magical, non-"freakish") event.
"Missing?" Uncle Vernon's voice rose incredulously.
"Yes! The car's gone, the house is dark, and there's not a single cat about!" Petunia said this last as if it were the ultimate proof, which it probably was.
"Maybe she's just gone to, uh, visit relatives," Vernon said. "And taken those damned cats with her."
"Relatives? Old Arabella's last relative died off years ago, dear."
Harry jolted in shock. He remembered that name from just a week ago: Arabella Figg, one of the people Dumbledore had sent Padfoot off to warn. Mrs. Figg was Arabella Figg? A witch?
He closed his door and leaned against it, biting his lip against the incredulous and completely inappropriate laughter that would bring his uncle running. It just had to be the neighborhood crazy cat lady.
-0-0-0
The most immediate, and largest, problem was the training. Of the entire group, only Genkai knew anything about Western sorcery. Kurama only vaguely remembered a passable amount of Latin, the main source of the language used in Western spellcasting. None of them had wands; Keiko had never used magic at all.
Today, the Tantei were learning proper wand movements. They would be using slim sticks for this, since none of them had an actual wand yet, and wouldn't until they reached Britain. Western wands were best for Western magic, Genkai had said, and the best of those were sold in London.
"Point your finger, Yuusuke, a wand is not a club. Hiei, use your left hand, please; your handwards will disrupt the magic. Excellent grip, Kurama, I see whip techniques translate well to wand work. Raise wands like so, swish, and flick. Understood?"
Yuusuke's eyes narrowed in distaste. "'Swish'? I don't swish. Girls swish. Pansi-OW!"
"Grow up, Yuusuke!" Botan said sharply, pulling her oar back from poking him in the head with it. "There are thousands of male wizards who do this every day."
"Enough," Genkai snapped. "Swish. And. Flick." The team did so. "Very good, but put a bit more authority behind that, Yukina. Again. Raise wands. Swish and flick."
-0-0-0
Later, Hiei and Keiko knelt, facing each other and surrounded by bamboo in a corner of the temple gardens.
"Hiei...?" Deep red eyes snapped to her. "Why... Genkai said most of us would have been found on Shichi-go-san, by the temple families. I know Kurama was hiding, and Kuwabara said he learned from his parents before they died... but..."
"Yuusuke died."
"Oh." Right. He hadn't done anything supernatural until after he'd come back. Being dead must've done something to unlock his abilities "And... and me?"
Hiei smirked faintly, loosened the ward covering his forehead, and let it fall. His third eye opened, violet burning as it stared at Keiko unblinkingly. "That, we are working on now," he murmured as the human girl's eyes glazed over.
-0-0-0
"She's back."
"Hm? Who?"
"Mrs. Figg." Petunia sounded disappointed. "A couple of her cats came down with some nasty virus. She had to take the whole lot into London and have them quarantined."
"It's not contagious, is it?"
"Oh, no, not to us. Quite nasty to a cat, though, she said."
"Good. We won't have him ruining Dudley's birthday next week, then."
-0-0-0
July 12th, midnight. Two weeks since Kurama had cast the first spell, and the moon was full and bright. Kurama had rubbed wood rose oil into the branch that would become his wand every night since then, murmuring a simple incantation- Madeo Visium- repeatedly until the oil had vanished into the raw wood and the wand shimmered to his eyes. Tonight required another long spell, though.
The redhead brought the entire box.
-0-0-0
Draco Malfoy knew exactly who he was was. Draco Malfoy was his father's son. He was the epitome of what a purebred wizard should be. He was well-groomed and well spoken. He carried himself with air of self importance that dared others to defy his will. He was young, but he was powerful. And when he entered a room he was the center of attention. He was a Malfoy.
As the creme de la creme of wizarding society- which was, of course, the only society worthy of the Malfoys- the family was obligated to make sure the wizarding world remained worthy. Why, it was their civic duty to help Voldemort come to power, to clean out the Muggle blood in the wizarding community.
Draco raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror. Civic duty, what a joke. His father was in it for the power of being second-in-command of the wizarding world. Or at least, he had been, up until Voldemort got himself offed by that squalling halfbreed brat, Potter. But who cared? He'd been powerful enough to leave the entire wizarding world scared to say his very name for over a decade, and he was even stronger now that he was back. And with the Malfoys on his side...
"We're going to win," he murmured to his reflection. It smirked back at him. "And I think I'll make Potter grovel a bit before we kill him."
The door crashed open behind him. Draco spun, barely aborting a startled yelp as his father swept into the room. "Good morning, Draco. You're ready to go downstairs? Good. Come along."
Downstairs, Voldemort was waiting. He looked Draco over slowly, unnervingly. "A fine boy you have here, Lucius," he said at last.
"Thank you, Master."
"Unsurprising. The Malfoys have reaped beauty for generations. I doubt that you could fail to sire such a... beautiful boy. Well, then, what is your name, boy?"
"Draco, sir."
"The dragon. Of course. Highest of the serpents according to lore. A compliment to your master, perhaps, Lucius? Or a prediction?" Voldemort asked silkily. "So, young serpent, what is it you wish?"
"Sir?"
"You are aware that you are your father's heir, boy. What do you want as one of my Death Eaters?"
Draco paused, eyes narrowing as he considered the question. "I want perfect Potter to lick my boots."
"An admirable answer, boy. Unfortunately, it is incorrect. Lucius, you have been remiss in your duties. Crucio."
-0-0-0
Harry's eyes flew open, and he stifled a gasp as his scar abruptly began to burn.
-0-0-0
"Madeo visium, perfora directus et rectus, permane cunctus et solidus undique hic instrumentum, perfora directus, permane solidus..." Hazy infant memories played in the back of Kurama's mind, brought back by the faint scent of sawdust. It was a painstaking task to bore a needle-eye-sized shaft through the center of a 25 cm branch, but the spell Kurama was using included a charm to keep the hole centered, and the borer had a well in the handle for the rose oil needed inside the hair-thin cavity.
He glanced at the moon, almost at the horizon now, and spared a second to take a steadying breath. He mustn't rush.
"Permane solidus..."
-0-0-0
"And swish and flick... flick, Kuwabara, not bludgeon! Swing a real wand like that and you'll conjure someone's head from their neck!"
-0-0-0
"But you have to tell us something!" Yuusuke yelled into the compact communicator. This time, he was armed with some of Keiko's arguments. "How are we supposed to do our job if we don't know anything about this target?!"
"Again, you are not protecting the target, your concern is the student body as a whole!" Koenma's voice buzzed slightly as it hit volumes the communicator's tiny speaker wasn't designed to handle.
"There are only seven of us, man, plus Genkai! We can't be everywhere at once!" Yuusuke paused, drawing himself back slightly. "From what we've been told of this place, we can't even be on all the floors at once. The best we can do is keep an eye on the target's closest friends and worst enemies. At least give us a name so we'll know who those people are!"
"I would if I HAD one!"
-0-0-0
July 28th. The sky was a stark black, relieved only by the brightest stars and Tokyo's light pollution. Kurama finished with the oil treatment and laid the wand onto a black cloth on the ground.
The instructions had told him to drink the contents of a vial labeled simply "3" at this point. Kurama warily popped the cork and took a whiff of the potion inside. It smelled familar. Recognition hit him with the force of Yuusuke's Rei Gun.
"Potion of Past Life?" Kurama gasped. How had his father gotten this? Suzuki hadn't even invented it until a couple of years ago... He sniffed again.
Ah. Just the active ingredients, without the slightly chalky tinge that let Suzuki's potion mist up when it wasn't under pressure.
Kurama's father probably hadn't known if Kurama would be able to change to his demon form at will when the time came. In fact, he'd probably assumed Kurama wouldn't be able to, and had included this so he could collect the hair he would use for the wand's core in a few hours.
He drank, and a few minutes later, the glade was empty save for a five-tailed silver fox. The night was far too welcoming to waste.
-0-0-0
July 28th, dawn.
"Ego evoco pater cum ramus, ille qui morioit et nascit ab integro quotannis..." Kurama threaded his youko hair through the wand. "Integro visium scipii." The wand pulsed strongly enough to startle Kurama, and he nearly dropped it. "Integro visium virgae!" Another pulse, this one accompanied by a flash as bright as daylight to his magical senses. "Integro!" The wand showered golden sparks over the clearing.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Kurama raised his head, staring dazedly up into the boughs of the nearest tree. "Hiei?"
"That hurt, fox. Put up a barrier next time; you've probably caught the attention of every youkai in the city."
"Every one?" Kurama smiled, pale morning light glinting from sharp canines.
"Every telepath," Hiei allowed. "Well?"
"Making a wand." He grinned wider at the surprised look Hiei gave him. "It gave off more of a kick than I expected."
Ch. 5- August (snippets from a hectic summer, part 2)
Harry sat on his narrow bed, staring dully out the window. Dudley had managed to fall down the stairs earlier today, tripping over his own Smelting stick- amazing how the stairs had survived the impact, Harry thought uncharitably- and in the aftermath, Harry had gotten the blame for leaving the stick where someone could trip over it. Despite his entirely true protests that he had no interest in messing with the stupid stick, Uncle Vernon had added three more locks to his door, two of them deadbolts. Harry was well aware that his godfather, and the fact that Dudley had suffered no more than a strained muscle, was the only reason he hadn't been thrown into the cupboard for the remainder of the summer. Perhaps he should be thankful for that, but he was only human. So he stared out the window and sulked. Some birthday.
Something moved against the night sky, catching Harry's attention. He leaned against the glass, not quite sure what he was seeing. Whatever it was, though, it was heading directly towards his window. Harry pushed the sash as high as it would go, and jumped out of the way as owls began swooping through the window, with no regard whatsoever for what might get knocked over by their abrupt entrance. Box after box fell to the floor, their feathered deliverers finding perches on every available surface as they waited for the window space to clear. Harry groaned and prayed none of the Dursleys would hear the soft hooting coming from his room, as a ninth owl dropped a smaller parcel and a letter on his bed and swooped out. As the other owls took this as a signal they could leave, and did so, Harry opened the letter.
Dear Harry-
Happy Birthday! I'm so sorry I can't be there or take you out to celebrate properly, but the way things are... well. Been running around all over England, and then there was a meeting a couple of weeks ago.
You should've seen Molly at the meeting. Amazing woman, can't believe she's not in the Order yet. The woman had most of the room squirming like first-years in the Headmaster's office in a matter of minutes. So now the Burrow has wards to rival your own there at the Dursley's, and the Weasleys should be stopping by to pick you up tomorrow or the day after.
But, speaking of today! I want to shower you in presents, you know that, right? But I admit, I'm about twenty years out of date with what's "groovy" (Muggle words are weird), especially in the Muggle world. Remus suggested books, books of all things! Do not believe anyone who tells you he's an upstanding citizen except for the whole furry problem, Remus is the worst prankster of us all, he is having me on.
(You don't really want books, right? I'm okay with it if you do! I am! But... books?)
Hope to see you soon.
Your loving godfather,
Padfoot
Harry smiled. He was going to the Burrow! And... he had birthday presents. A LOT of them. He picked up the small package on the bed and knelt next to the other boxes. Sirius had gone a bit overboard, even without having any idea what would be interesting.
The first box held a pair of knitting needles, much to Harry's bemusement. A note underneath them read:
One of your mother's quirks was that she could not keep her hands still while sitting. If it wasn't taking notes, it was tapping the table, or twisting her rings, or accidentally casting hilarious kiddie jinxes at people. After the third time Dumbledore spent half the Order meeting speaking in verse, he asked Lily to please try bringing some sort of small charms project with her.
Her first project was a pair of knitting needles for Arthur Weasley, whose wife was expecting twins at the time. (I think you know them!) She repeated the charm a couple of years later for herself and Alice Longbottom, you can probably guess why, and gave the needles to Remus when you all went into hiding. He says that all his sweaters are Lily-made to this day.
Harry swallowed hard against a lump in his throat.
Somewhere around the sixth box (more of his mother's charmwork: a trio of self-labeling Potions vials, a windless wind chime, and a calendar that poured Honeydukes truffles from the three days before and after the full; and a couple of his father's things: a chain necklace of some silvery metal, the included note explaining that it was bristling with Auror-grade protection spells, and an old Snitch that fluttered weakly in Harry's trembling hand) a tiny owl swooped in through the still-opened window. Ron's Pigwidgeon excitedly zoomed around the room several times before dropping a package nearly three times his size on the bed, hooting importantly.
Harry tried to hush the hyperactive little bird, but shortly gave up. The Dursleys hadn't come rushing in yet, anyways, and Pig just couldn't make the same racket as ten-or-so fully-grown owls did, no matter that he tried.
"Good Pig, thanks," he murmured, taking up Ron's package and extracting... a photo album labeled 'Hogwart's Greatest Moments'? He opened the book to a random page and found the first picture Colin had taken of him, the one where Lockhart had shown up and prevented Harry from avoiding it. His photo-self was still putting up a great fight, he noticed, before his eyes were drawn to the words scrawled in Ron's handwriting below.
Did you know his hair was a wig by then? Fred and George put Defollicating Potion in his shampoo the first night. They say he should still be bald.
Harry turned the page. It held a picture of him on his old Nimbus 2000, during that first insanely early Quidditch practice his second year. "Right before Slytherin stole Gryffindor's practice slot. Of course, Slytherin needs all the practice time they can swipe. With Harry on the team, we can't help but kick their arses." He chuckled. That was so Ron.
Setting the album aside- he'd look through the rest later- Harry continued working his way through the rest of the packages from Sirius.
-0-0-0
The pressure pushed Keiko to her knees, bearing down and in until she thought her insides were going to implode. Breathing was nearly impossible, and she'd quickly given up trying to keep her eyes open in favor of forcing her lungs to work. A harsh, hollow rushing sounded in her ears, but she couldn't tell if it was the air, her heartbeat, or the voiceless gasps of effort she was sure she must be making.
"Why..." she managed. The pressure let up negligibly, a violet tinge she hadn't even realized was there fading away to black, with the telltale phantom color splotches of tightly closed eyes. "No." The rasping sound became recognizable pained breathing, but not hers. Not hers? "STOP IT!"
The pressure vanished.
Confused, Keiko slowly opened her eyes, blinking when they cooperated. She had a pounding headache, her skin was slicked with sweat as if she'd just finished gym class, and she ached down to her bones in a way she couldn't identify. Keiko slowly turned her head, feeling as though a million weights were pulling her in the other direction, and finally saw the reason for her discomfiture.
"Hiei! What on earth are you doing to me?"
The fire demon watched her unblinkingly with all three eyes, then abruptly crouched. He lifted her chin in a surprisingly gentle gesture.
"You fought back."
Keiko was not having that. She mustered up her best glare, the one that usually stopped Yuusuke in his tracks. Amusement flashed through Hiei's eyes.
"You're strong enough magically to fight back," he clarified.
"And that makes it all right for you to hurt me?"
He frowned. "You'd never have lasted at that school with your magic levels as low as they were. You'd probably have gotten sick."
"Couldn't you have told me that before you started?"
"Would you have cooperated if you knew success would hurt?"
Keiko paused. "I don't know," she admitted.
Hiei nodded curtly and released her. But before he could step away, she caught the hem of his coat.
"Why would I have gotten sick?" she asked.
"... Your magic's not natural to you," he replied slowly. "I'm still looking into why. Think of it like..." he thought for a moment, "an organ transplant. You were rejecting what little you had already."
"So you're acting like immunosuppressing drugs."
Hiei rolled his eyes. "I'm forcing your body to accept what it's got. We'll see how well it worked if you don't collapse when we get there."
Keiko huffed a little bit. "Just tell me these things. Now I can agree."
-0-0-0
Draco sprawled indolently in his favorite chair, staring out the window at the grounds of Malfoy Manor. To all appearances, he was either sleeping with his eyes open or bored to the brink of catatonia. In either case, it was unlikely anyone would disturb him.
If Draco had been certain he wouldn't be seen, he would have been pacing the floor in an absolute fury. He pictured himself scowling, the expression revealing more bitterness than even Perfect Potter could inspire in him. Wait, no, that looked almost ugly. Better to use an expression of righteous anger with coldly bright eyes.
"Three weeks!" he would snap. "Three bloody weeks!" On the last word, he'd reach the end of his paced line and spin sharply on his heel, his fine robes swirling in his wake. "You'd think he'd come to his senses the first night," he'd sourly add as he continued to pace. "After the bastard bloody Crucio'd him-! Crucio! On him! In his own house!"
"But no!" he'd snap. "Three weeks and it's been getting worse! He panders to the man's every whim, grovels at his feet and licks his boots and for what? Power? What sort of power is that, sniveling before someone who keeps getting his arse kicked by a part-Muggle Gryffindor prat?"
Breaking something at this point would be a nice touch. The vase over in the corner, perhaps. His father liked it. He could throw it through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, make a most satisfying crash. With any luck it would land on a house-elf. Or his father. Same difference, with the way Voldemort had reduced Lucius to behaving.
"Bloody house-elf," Draco hissed.
-0-0-0
Harry was sitting on the stairs in front of the door. The Dursleys had heard that the Weasleys were coming that day (via the Muggle route, thankfully) and had made a retreat to the kitchen, where they would wait out the onslaught without Dudley whining that he was hungry. It was fast becoming uncomfortable, the way their hostility was leaking out of the kitchen.
At five after five, a plain blue sedan pulled up out front. Harry leapt to his feet, nearly throwing the door open in his haste.
"Harry, dear boy, so good to see you again," Percy Weasley said superciliously. Harry glanced towards the car. "I do hope you've had a good summer? Of course you have." Looked like it was just Percy. Harry deflated slightly; he'd hoped Ron would have been able to come as well. And to be stuck in a car with just him all the way to Devon, well... at least Percy wasn't the Dursleys.
"Do get your trunk, Harry," Percy instructed needlessly. "It's been a terribly busy summer at the Ministry, you know," Percy continued. Harry tuned him out as he began stowing his things in the car. A few phrases came through. "simply impossible ... absolute spectacle of herself ... most insistent ... quite agree with the Minister ... stress of the Tournament, though, I say ... persisted ... so hard to keep disconnecting ... can't have a Muggle fireplace permanently attached to the network, now can we."
"What? No, of course not, Percy," Harry said, shutting the front door on the Dursley's horrified sputtering. Ron's brother had apparently gotten worse since he'd last seen him. He allowed Percy to herd him into the car, buckling up as the redhead got behind the wheel and pushed a button labeled 'start'. "Does this car have a radio?"
"Of course not." Percy spun the wheel sharply and pulled onto the road behind the Dursley's house. "And it does not fly, either."
"That was three years ago!" Harry protested as they somehow skipped over the rush-hour traffic jams.
"Yes, almost long enough for the Ministry to recover from that fiasco." Harry would have sworn it was teasing from any other Weasley, but the look on Percy's face convinced him that the redhead was actually dead serious. Another twist of the wheel brought them into Dorset from Surrey, skipping the county between.
"How are you doing that?" Harry asked. Percy's wand was still securely in his robes, and he hadn't done anything spell-ish that Harry had noticed.
Percy gave him an odd look. "Magic, of course."
"I meant... never mind." The rest of the drive passed in silence.
-0-0-0
"Oh, dearie! It's so good to see you again! How has that Muggle family been treating you? And after last year, too... come in, come in, I've got some lovely fudge I just made. Percy, be a dear and put his things in Ron's room."
Nothing stood in the way of Hurricane Molly. She bustled Harry into the kitchen just in time to catch one of the twins with the plate of fudge. "No! None for you, George."
"I'm Fred!"
"Fred then, and still none for you. You'll spoil your dinner." Molly snatched the plate away and held it out to Harry. "Have a piece, dearie, you're far too thin."
"Mum-!" Molly shot Fred a sharp look. "Er... eat up, Harry."
Harry took a couple of pieces, then, at Molly's stern look, a few more. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." He took a bite. "It's very good. Uh..."
"Of course, you want to see Ron. He's upstairs."
Harry made a 'well, come on' face at Fred and headed up the stairs, then handed a couple of the pieces to the twin. Fred handed them right back.
"No thanks, Harry, Fred's already got half the batch." He grinned at Harry's bewildered look. "I was teasing Mum down there, I'm George."
Fred- er, George- then winked and ducked into the twins' room. Harry continued up to Ron's room, finding his friend pushing Harry's trunk under the trundle and out of the way. "Ron?"
"Harry!"
-0-0-0
Kurama took one last swipe with his oiling rag, and sat back to admire his handiwork. No one had ever accused the kitsune of being modest, but his human persona, Shuiichi, who had somehow become part of Kurama as well, was not used to self congratulations. Even Shuiichi was gloating over this, though.
He was certainly no expert in Western human wands, but he could feel the strength and clarity of the power he'd created- literally created, since the cleansing rituals of last month and the rest period between then and now had wiped his personal signature from the magic. It was now unfocused, though not generic, potential. Absently rubbing the still-unattached handle in his hand, he resisted the mindless need of the infant wand as he waited for the sun to reach its zenith. Almost... almost...
The wand surged with power, and Kurama was moving, snatching up the rod as he flipped the handle in his hand. "Rarus!" he cried, pressing the glowing wand against the solid base of the handle, where it seemed to catch before sliding in a few centimeters and fusing. The sense of power snapped off with an almost physical slap, and though Kurama had been expecting this from his father's notes, he still dropped the wand. It lay inert in the grass as Kurama carefully extended his senses, moving his hand slowly over the wand, not quite touching it.
Nothing. The wand's power had been properly contained. It looks so simple, a small part of his mind noted, but the power...! Kurama carefully repacked his father's box, took up the wand, then stood and tapped at the magical shielding surrounding the clearing. "I'm done." The barrier vanished with a faintly purple flicker. As Kurama walked from the grove, Hiei appeared to walk next to him.
"Thank you for helping with the shield, Hiei."
The smaller man glanced disdainfully at the wand in Kurama's hand, ignoring the customary human pleasantries. "Is it done now?"
"Yes."
"Hn."
-0-0-0
The first thing Harry noticed was the smell, the thick stench of rotting things and pond scum. The slimy stuff clung wetly to half-submerged rocks and dead trees, spreading outwards in a deceptively solid carpet over the murky, still water. Somewhere off to the side, a low voice chanted harshly. He followed it, making a face as the muck seemed to cling to him undisturbed.
Shortly, he struggled up onto a soggy bank of mud and debris at the base of a massive, half-worked stone, several times Harry's size and long since tumbled on its side. Harry peeked over the stone, clutching tightly to the lip as his feet slipped in the warm mud, and ducked down again quickly. He knew that face, even lit up by bruise-purple light as it was, and even if he hadn't caught a glimpse, the second man's hand gleamed of metal.
"Get it," Voldemort snapped. Pettigrew whimpered, but moved Harry's way. Harry froze, trying to feel the familiar weight of his wand somewhere on him, but he could feel nothing but thin fabric. Even his glasses were missing. Wait- how on earth could he see past the stone without those?
On the other side of the stone, the sound of Pettigrew's movements changed, as if he had stopped, and then he began moving away. A faint whinny had Harry instinctively peering back over the rock, in time to see Pettigrew leading a pale gold, one-horned colt towards his Master. Voldemort slid a knife from his sleeve.
"NO!" Harry leapt over the rock, or at least tried to. He smashed into something halfway over that left his scar flaring with pain. The landscape blurred and darkened as Harry fell backwards, his hands clutching at his forehead.
The unicorn's scream sounded oddly like his mother's.
"Harry? HARRY! Wake up!" Harry's eyes flew open, and he clutched at Ron's arms. "OW! Harry!"
"Ron?"
"It's about time! I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes!" Ron pulled himself free, making Harry wince as light streamed fully into his face. "You were yelling," he added more softly, as Harry clapped his hands over his face and groaned. "Was it...?"
"Bad."
"Nightmare?"
"I wish."
"Oh."
"I need a bath," Harry muttered, sitting up. He flopped back down just as quickly. "Okay... that was a bit fast."
"Harry, you're as white as Binns. Stay down, you git! I think I'll go get Mum."
"No!" Harry pushed himself to his elbows. "She'll just worry. It's nothing. I'll be fine."
Ron stared dubiously as Harry pushed himself up from the bed. "Well... alright, Harry, but you do look bloody awful."
"Wish I felt that good," Harry muttered, heading downstairs to the bathroom. He could still feel the slime from wherever he'd been in the dream. Nightmare. Though guessing by his headache, it was a vision. He shivered, set the water to near-scalding, and scrubbed viciously at his skin. Merlin, he hoped it wasn't a vision. The colt had died... abruptly, he remembered Firenze, and his Forbidden Forest detention from first year, when Quirell had been drinking unicorn blood for Voldemort.
"It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," the centaur had told him then, while taking him back to the school. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime."
But Voldemort was alive. He didn't need to drink it. What on earth was he doing with it, then?
-0-0-0
"What are these?" Kuwabara asked.
"Charms," Genkai answered. "None of you are fluent in English."
"Oh-!" Keiko gasped. She'd opened the tiny box to find a pair of gold stud earrings. Glancing into Yuusuke's box, she saw he had an identical earring. "Master Genkai, these are too much!"
"Nonsense. They're standard issue for ferrygirls."
"Genkai, I don't have pierced ears..." Yukina murmured.
"These aren't Muggle earrings. You don't need piercings."
"Hiei, you're putting it in the wrong ear," Kurama said.
"So?"
"So, they'll think you're gay," Yuusuke said as his earring clicked into place. "Westerners are weird about that."
"Humans are 'weird' about 'that'," Hiei grumbled.
"We're not supposed to say such things, Hiei," Botan reminded him. "We're all human here. Right?"
"Yes, Hiei. Think human."
Hiei's cold glare diverted to Kurama.
"Speaking of thinking human," Keiko said. "How are we going to explain, well..." Her eyes flicked to Hiei.
"I'm sure no one will suspect Hiei to be anything other than human, Keiko," Kurama said soothingly.
"I didn't... I know that. I meant, all things considered, this is a human high school, right?" Genkai nodded agreement, and Keiko continued. "Well... human high schoolers are terrible gossips. You wouldn't believe some of the stories that went around when Yuusuke came back... but anyways, I'm terribly worried about Yukina."
Hiei's eyes snapped to Keiko. Yukina tilted her head in confusion.
"Me?"
"Most people wouldn't understand how you and Hiei are. It's obvious you care for each other very much," Hiei's eyes narrowed at this, "but they won't understand it's not romantic. And with Kuwabara... I'm worried about your reputation."
"It could also lead to more trouble than we need," Kurama added. "If the other students think Yukina is two-timing Hiei and Kuwabara - please don't look at me like that, I'm not trying to start a fight - they'll be less inclined to trust her, and she'll have trouble doing her part of this infiltration. Not to mention what the boys may try if they think she's..." He trailed off, letting the other Tantei fill in the blank, and stared warningly at Hiei, who was literally smoking at the implications.
"That's easy to fix," Yuusuke said easily. "We'll just say they're related." He eyed Hiei speculatively, pretending to not notice that the fire demon was livid, barely restraining himself from leaping for Yuusuke's throat. "How does... hm... brother sound?"
"YUUSUKE!" Several people gasped at his audacity. Genkai glared Kuwabara into silence. Kurama put a restraining hand on Hiei's shoulder. The fire demon had paled, and was carefully not looking at Yukina. Tense silence reigned for several seconds as the group waited for Yukina to process the idea.
"Hiei would make a wonderful brother..." Yukina trailed off.
"But...?" Keiko prompted.
Yukina turned to Hiei. "You won't be able to look for him. While we're in England," she murmured. There was no need to say who she was referring to. Hiei had been looking for her twin brother for her since Yukina had discovered she had one, months ago.
Hiei flinched. "My networks will still be reporting to me," he said gruffly. "I can't personally search with Reikai's barrier in the way."
"Then will you be my brother for the mission?" Yukina asked. "Please?"
"I..." Hiei glowered at Yuusuke for a few more moments. His comment and Yukina's request had put him in an awkward position- one which he could see no way out of without hurting Yukina's feelings. That was something he catagorically refused to do.
"I don't think I'll be much good at being a brother," he muttered, "But if you want, I will try."
-0-0-0
Harry shut off the water sourly and got out. The hot water had done nothing for his headache, though at least he didn't feel like he was covered in nonexistant swamp muck anymore. "Solspec," he muttered, tapping the frames of his glasses (a wizarding pair Sirius had included with his birthday gifts; they had several built-in charms, including auto-focus, an all-purpose Impervius, and this Solspec sunglasses charm). . They darkened obediently, and he put them on. It helped a tiny bit. He left the bathroom and was nearly bowled over by the twins as they crashed down towards breakfast.
"Morning, Harry!" the one in the lead called out, making Harry wince.
"What the bloody hell did you drink last night, Harry?" the other asked, somewhat more quietly. "Mum's going to throw a fit."
"Drink?"
"Man, that must be some hangover, if you don't even remember getting sloshed." Harry decided this one must be George. "Come on, we've got a bit of Pepper-Up stashed in our room."
"I'm not hungover," Harry muttered.
Fred pushed Harry's glasses up out of the way, making Harry wince. "Sorry." He gently settled the glasses back in place. "He's not hungover, George." George looked at Fred, Fred looked at George, and they suddenly grabbed Harry by the arms and frog-marched him down the stairs.
"What the-!"
"Mum's going to have kittens. At least if you're downstairs, she'll put you on the couch instead of back in bed."
"And you have a chance of getting something besides chicken soup."
"And seeing somebody besides her, because she can't quarantine the front room."
"I'm not-"
"MUM!" Fred yelled, George's hand clapping over Harry's ear a split second before Fred yelled next to it. "Harry's sick!" They set him down at the kitchen table, backing away quickly as Molly Weasley descended on Harry.
"Look at you, what do you think you're doing up and about looking like this? What do you boys think you're doing bringing Harry down here in his condition?"
"He was already up, Mum-"
"I'm not sick."
"You certainly aren't the picture of health, Harry dear. Fred, see what we have in the pantry, I must have the makings for chicken soup. George, fetch me Children's Afflictions and the Potions to Treat Them." The twins looked apologetically at Harry as their predictions played out. Ron had the bad luck to enter the kitchen then. "RONALD WEASLEY! How dare you not fetch me immediately! You should know better! Go check the potions cabinet and see what we have."
"I'm NOT sick!" Harry protested again.
"Hush, dear." She glanced up as the morning post arrived. "Not now- oh, just leave them on the table." Hedwig hooted in offense. "Stop that, Harry's sick."
"I'm NOT SICK! It's just Voldemort!" Harry finally yelled in frustration. The resulting clatter- Ron jolting against the potions cabinet and having to steady it, George dropping the book, and a crash in the pantry where Fred was- barely registered as Molly swept him up into a shockingly strong hug.
"Oh, Harry!" she gasped, dismayed. "That's it, I'm talking to Dumbledore, and don't you even *think* about trying to talk me out of it, Harry Potter!"
"There's nothing you can do," Harry said anyways.
"What did I just tell you?"
"But I don't know what he was doing. It could've just been a dream. It's not worth it to bother Professor Dumbledore with a dream."
"HARRY. It might be nothing, but it might be something. Come along. We'll get on the fire and you'll tell Dumbledore exactly what you saw. Fred, George, fetch that armchair over to the fireplace." Molly settled Harry into the chair, ignited the fire with a flick of her wand, and tossed a handful of glittering powder onto the flames. "Headmaster Dumbledore, please." She scooped up the pile of letters from the table and flipped through them, dropping one into Harry's lap as Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire.
Harry slowly opened the letter as Dumbledore and Molly exchanged pleasantries, his eyes widening when he upended the envelope and a shining prefect's badge fell onto his lap. He looked up at Dumbledore in shock. The old wizard's face turned to him, eyes gentle.
"Well, Harry, I hear you've had a difficult night."
"Headmaster... I... what...?" Harry wasn't quite up to processing this, and held up the badge in wordless accusation.
"Well, Harry, you're a prefect. I thought you'd recognize the badge."
Harry recognized that tone in the headmaster's voice. It said 'That's the way it is, be happy, and, while you may ask questions, I won't answer them in any meaningful way.' He sighed. "Yes, Headmaster."
"Dumbledore, not to be rude, but could keep this short? Harry is in no condition to be out of bed."
"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."
"No, you aren't, dear."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, regaining their attention. "Molly is quite right. If you would, please tell me what happened."
So Harry went through the dream, from appearing in the swamp, to trying to save the unicorn and hitting the barrier.
"And I didn't see what happened then. I think I was waking up." Harry paused. "I heard it scream, though." He wished he hadn't.
"I see," Dumbledore murmured. "Thank you, Harry. This has been most enlightening."
"Sir?"
"Let Molly see to you, Harry. The worst of the barrier's effects should be over with by now, but you'll remain under the weather for the rest of the day. Molly, if he's not better by tomorrow, do call Madam Pomfrey."
"Yes, Dumbledore."
-0-0-0
"Do we have everybody?" Genkai asked.
Yuusuke glanced around. "No."
"Hiei's in the tree," Kurama corrected him.
"Oh."
"Does everybody have their trunks? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..." Genkai's eyes narrowed. "Hiei, where are your things?"
"Kurama's trunk."
"We'll get you your own in London." Genkai ignored the fire demon's disdainful snort. "Does everybody have their translation charms?"
"Yes," they chorused. Except for Hiei, of course, who glared at the idea that he would forget it.
"Has everyone used the bathroom?"
"Very funny, Genkai."
"Then gather around the trunks. Botan?"
"Yup!" Botan manifested her oar and hopped on it. "Everybody ready? Let's go!"
The group vanished.