000
Storming Skies
It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament. Gokudera/Harry.
000
Chapter Two
What
000
Harry felt awful, not just physically, but... y'know, inside. Emotionally.
He hadn't meant to say those things to Ron, he'd never wanted to say those things to Ron. He had every intention of taking those bitter, hurt thoughts and feelings with him to the grave, never letting his friend – ex-friend – know just how much he had actually hurt Harry by doing what he did and turning away from him, after everything they had been through. But the pain, once he got talking, it was like verbal diarrhoea. His mouth kept moving and saying things and his brain couldn't censor it because it was too busy trying to handle the throbbing burning waves of agony coming from his back.
Then he finally got the name of the boy he rescued, Hayato Gokudera. Sounded foreign. He wondered what country he was from and whether or not it was nice, and dragon-free.
"Muggleborn? What's that?" the older boy asked.
Harry groaned, a muggle? Really? For fucks' sake, as if this day couldn't get any wor- no, better not finish that sentence, those words were cursed. If he said them, it really would.
"I – well... Harry?" Hermione squeaked.
He flopped a hand, "Tell him. He may have some latent magic or he wouldn't have been able to see Hogwarts, never mind puff right into my damn lap," he managed to grit out. If not, well, there were always memory charms and it wasn't like the poor Roberts family at the Quidditch Cup, it would be one charm, the afternoon gone, and a pop back to where he had been before, no harm done. Make him think he got royally slaughtered during a drinking contest, there had been a faint whiff of alcohol about him, not to mention funky smoke – drugs maybe?
Hermione fumbled, "Right, okay. Um, where to begin...? Basically, muggle means non-magical. Very demeaning, I know. Basically, there's currently two societies in the world, the non-magical one you're familiar with, and the magical one which runs parallel but hidden from yours. Has been for thousands of years. It used to be that we would do our magic publicly, either as figures of good or evil, depending on the individual. But for some reason that's been lost to history, either through censorship or just because people never thought to write it down, the magicals hid away from the rest of the world and set up laws with harsh punishments for anyone who revealed the existence of magic to a non-magical," the bushy haired girl explained, falling into a lecture mode he recalled from one of his old tutors back under his father. "Without magic, the muggle world was forced to adapt and revolutionise, while the magical world got as far as the Dark Ages and began to stagnate for reasons unknown, but more likely than not, highly politically motivated. Right now, the magical world is... semi-segregated, and exceptionally racist. Those who can trace their magic back hundreds of years and generations are called Purebloods and they stand at the top of the food-chain regardless of their actual skills or knowledge. Inbreeding is very common amongst Purebloods so if you meet someone who... doesn't seem to be, very intelligent or perceptive... well, be kind. They can't help it. Often times Purebloods will marry their first cousins in order to retain pure bloodlines."
"Euurgh!" Hayato couldn't stop himself from making a sound of disgust.
Hermione nodded seriously, "Yes. I don't think they understand genetics or the dangers of inbreeding. It wouldn't surprise me if they didn't. They tend to reject everything even remotely non-magical with a great deal of effort and zeal, never mind how it could actually help them."
"But, surely they noticed that inbreeding causes birth-defects, sometimes even severe health and mental disabilities!" the silver haired boy exclaimed in disbelief.
"They don't care. As long as the child has magic, they don't care. It happens, sometimes, in families that have thickened their blood so much that a child is just... born without. They're a Squib. That's what they call a non-magical born to magical parents. I'm the opposite, a muggleborn. Neither of my parents have magic. They're actually dentists, and... well, my mum was terrified when she found out about magic. She was nervous around me to begin with but when magic came into the picture – we don't speak much anymore. Anyway! Because I'm born to two non-magical parents, I have 'dirty' blood. I'm at the bottom of the foodchain so to speak. Then you have Half-bloods, like Harry who are born to one magical Pureblood parent and either a muggle or a muggleborn. Sometimes they're raised in the magical world, sometimes in the muggle one. It depends."
Hayato looked at him, "And you were raised in the... muggle world?" he asked hesitantly.
Harry nodded, "Yeah. I didn't find out about magic until Hagrid delivered my letter. My Aunt and Uncle knew but... they don't like magic much. They tried really hard to hide it from me. We even ran away to some miserable little shack on the coast to outrun the letters. It didn't much help when Hagrid showed up personally to deliver it on my birthday. He even bent my Uncle rifle into a pretzel." That was a good memory, he grinned a little against the now thankfully fading pain.
"Hagrid... delivered your letter?" Hermione asked, bewildered.
Harry nodded, and the girl didn't say anything anymore, her lips pressed together thoughtfully and disapprovingly.
Any further conversation was halted as Madam Pomfrey bustled back in. She was quick and methodical as she syphoned off the potion and the last of the blood before healing up the wound in short order, leaving two thick ropey scars across his back. A fresh shirt was conjured for him and Hayato picked up the golden egg as the three of them left the tent, Hermione going a mile a minute about the other competitors.
"You were the best, you know, Harry. The fastest of everyone. Cedric did a basic inanimate to animate transfiguration on a large chunk of basalt. He sent a Labrador off to distract his dragon so he could sneak around and get into the nest from behind while her attention was diverted. It was a fairly nice bit of transfiguration, though he didn't quite manage it properly as the dog couldn't bark. About halfway through she must have caught his scent because she changed her mind and went for him instead. He got horribly burned up the side of his face and arm, he only just managed to dodge behind some rocks. The Beauxbatons girl used some very advanced vocal charms, you don't see that very often in England! I know the Scandinavians still have a very healthy music based magic system, but they use a lot of weather manipulations that need vocal intonations and this one seemed to be more Healing based. Using vocal vibrations to trigger areas in the brain to induce sleep. Well, it worked! Very clever. But it snored and set her skirt on fire, poor thing. She put it out quickly enough but the Durmstrang boys and several of the upper-year Hogwarts boys were all shouting at her for doing it, demanding to see her underwear. It was awful, Harry. And Krum, oooh it was horrible! Charlie was cursing to high heaven when it happened, I've never seen him look so angry. He used a Conjunctivitis curse, which is really very painful for dragons. The poor thing went wild, thrashing everywhere, she destroyed half of her eggs and was utterly despondent when the tamers managed to calm her down enough to cancel the curse. They don't think she'll make the return trip to Romania due to depression!"
Harry shook his head sadly as they reached the edge of the enclosure, that was too bad. He knew how much Charlie loved dragons and while he may not have been feeling very charitable toward the creatures right now, it was still an awful thing to happen. They were brought here against their will, along with their children, and then hurt, for entertainment. To find out you'd accidentally killed them, yeah, that would be heartbreaking, even for an animal.
"It's marks out of ten from each one," Hermione explained as they came to a stop, looking up at a large set of seats draped in gold with a table in front of them. Five judges. Crouch, Bagman, and the three heads. "Points are taken off for wasting of time, poor spell use, harming the dragon or the eggs, harming the audience, and getting hurt," she explained further.
Hayato looked at her, "Did the task end when he got the egg?" he asked curiously.
She nodded, "I think so."
"Then your back injury shouldn't count," he concluded firmly before turning to glare forcefully at the judges as the giant woman raised her wand into the air, she hesitated a moment before a long silver ribbon shot out of her wand, twisting itself into a large ten.
Hermione screeched and flung her arms around him, "You're the first one she's awarded a ten to Harry!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed in his ear, bouncing up and down.
He spluttered, spitting her hair out of his mouth as he staggered under her enthusiasm "Th-that's great, Hermione!"
Thankfully it did seem as if his injury after grabbing the egg was being ignored.
Mister Crouch came next and a large number nine snaked up into the sky prompting boos from the crowds of students onlooking.
"I guess he didn't like the fact you used your Quidditch skills instead of wand skills," Hermione observed. It was common knowledge that Mister Crouch loathed the sport and only put up with it because Bagman was insufferable and easier to just let have his way than fight against him. Plus, he needed the popularity vote if he wanted to make another try for Minister of Magic – Harry would personally throw every bit of influence he may or may not possess as the Boy Who Lived against it, he hated the man, the asshole responsible for throwing Sirius in Azkaban without trial.
Dumbledore followed Madam Maxime's example and sent a ten into the air, prompting another strangling hug from Hermione and a backslap of appreciation from the silver haired boy – whose name he had embarrassingly forgotten already. Harry could barely hear anything over the screaming cheers of the crowd which reached an even louder note when Ludo Bagman sent a third ten into the sky.
The boos and jeers, calls of bias and cheating, that erupted when Karkaroff sent up a reluctant gleaming five into the air with a yellow toothed sneer of malice in his direction near enough shook the stands.
"Five!? You biased, cheating, repugnant waste of air!" Hermione screeched, even her hair frizzing up in outrage along with the rest of the crowd at the blatant point docking.
Harry hummed, he didn't like it, but what did he care about points, he survived. That was all he aimed to do in this tournament. He didn't care about winning.
"Hermione, calm down. He could give zero for all I care. I just want to survive this damn thing," he told her firmly, "C'mon. We'd better head to Professor Dumbledore's office before everyone leaves the stadium and we can't move for love nor money," he suggested, giving the arena a quick glance and frowning when he realised his Firebolt wasn't there.
"Harry!" It was Charlie, with a very familiar broom in hand, "You're in first place. Four points ahead of Krum," he explained before handing over the firebolt, a glint of longing in his brown eyes as he let it go. Oh yeah, Charlie was a Seeker too. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened – but that was unbelievable. I've never seen broom manoeuvring like that, especially with a passenger. You two have balls. Oh yeah – and they told me to tell you, you've got to hang around for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word, back in the Champions' tent," he explained.
Harry nodded, "Okay, and please, don't tell her everything. She'd go mental!"
Charlie laughed, "No can do. If I don't tell her the whole truth, she'll be after me with the carpet beater again! No thanks. I'd sell Ginny out before I took that horrid old thing to the buttocks again! Later Harry!" he called, already moving off as another tamer shouted about how they were having trouble reigniting the Horntail's second stomach.
Sighing, the trio headed towards the Champions' tent.
"We'll wait outside," Hermione assured him with a smile as Harry handed over his firebolt to her.
Inside the tent the other Champions were in silence, Fleur looking shaken and thin lipped as she held herself defensively in the corner, Krum was more hunched over and surly than before, if Harry could think anything, he looked guilty, and not far away, one side of Cedric's face slathered with a thick orange paste which, he could only guess, was mending the nasty burns he received from the Swedish Short-Snout. A Dragon he recalled from his research to be one of the more dangerous breeds, mainly because its flame was the hottest of all the recorded European breeds – able to reduce timber and bone to ash in seconds. Not to mention it was apparently a very agile flier. Given what had happened during his task, having a second person significantly taller and somewhat heavier than him, drop into his lap, he was mildly thankful for the somewhat more ungainly Hungarian Horntail. They would have most assuredly died if they'd been up against a Swedish Short-Snout, or a Peruvian Vipertooth.
If he had to guess, Harry got maybe... ten feet away from the silver haired boy and Hermione outside, just reaching Cedric's side, the Hufflepuff grinning appreciatively at him, an odd look in his eye.
"Good one, Harry," he praised by means of greeting.
"And you," the Gryffindor returned taking one more step before there was a bang of displaced air and smoke and suddenly he was looking at a silver necklace with a garnet eyed skull.
"Nani?" It was the boy (whose name he still couldn't remember), looking bewildered and angry as he held Harry's golden egg and looked around at the other Champions.
"Oh, goodness! Mister Potter, I'm afraid your friend will have to wait outside with your lady friend. Champions only, I hope you understand," Ludo Bagman blustered as he bounced into the tent and faltered at the sight of the strange boy who had, quite literally, popped out of no where during the First Task and landed on the youngest Champion. Not only forcing him to protect the stranger while collecting the golden egg and then outflying a dragon – he had certainly placed his bets in the right place.
"I-I did," Harry spluttered in disbelief, taking a step backwards from the silver haired boy who scratched his head with a free hand, "He just... popped back," he admitted bewildered, "Did you..."
The other shook his head, "No. I was talking with your friend about the Tournament when," he made an aggressive wordless gesture at the surroundings, looking both pissed off, stressed, and so done with this shit he had just stopped trying to understand what the fuck was going on.
Bagman hm'ed and haw'ed, "Never the less young man, please vacate the tent. I am terribly sorry but, private Champion business here," he continued and with a grumpy huff, the boy left.
Bagman smiled radiantly at them as the tent flap fell down behind him, clapping his hands together he said, "Well done, all of you! Now, just a quick few words?"
There was another loud bang and a vexed and confused silver haired boy was yet again right in front of Harry, and he found himself staring at that same skull-necklace in confusion before pulling back a little, looking up at the bristling foreigner.
"You didn't - "
"NO I FUCKING DIDN'T!" he snarled loudly making Harry recoil and lift his hands up placatingly.
"Okay, okay, just... we'll figure this out later. Mister Bagman, please continue, I don't think my friend will be a problem, but it seems like he can't actually be very far away before popping back," Harry explained, fighting hard to keep his voice level and not freak out. Dumbledore would sort this out, no need to panic, you were fine, this... person, wasn't going to attack him. He'd been really very nice in the medical tent, he was just stressed and scared and angry because he didn't know magic and this strange thing that neither of them liked or wanted kept happening. It was okay, perfectly understandable to get upset.
Bagman pursed his lips but nodded unhappily, "Very well, Mister Potter. Now, as I was saying, a few quick words before I let you all away again. You'll have a nice long break before the Second Task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth – but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you retrieved during the First Task, you'll see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg – because it will tell you what the Second Task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!" he exclaimed at the lack of reaction or expression from the various teenagers in front of him, Diggory and Krum already hefting their eggs and eyeing the hinges thoughtfully.
Harry nodded in thanks before he left the tent, the silver haired boy following close behind, and eventually meeting up with Hermione who looked harried as they made their way back to the castle.
"Professor McGonagall stopped by while you were with the Champions. She wants the both of you to head up to the Headmaster's office immediately," the brown haired girl told them as they moved past a beady eyed Rita Skeeter who, thankfully, let them pass unmolested.
000
He had to be dreaming, this was a huge dream/nightmare, and he was stoned out of his mind, Reborn added rhododendron leaves to Haru's stupid ritual and now they were all hallucinating and tripping balls and the little troll was laughing himself sick.
"Careful! That's a trick step, it'll suck you down to the thigh if you step on it," the green eyed boy warned him, somehow still managing to successfully navigate the chaotic hallways without glasses in a place where everything moved, the staircases, the suits of armour (one of them in full on Knight's Armour saluted to him as he passed by, that was creepy), even the portraits and tapestries – they even fucking spoke!
"BLAGGARD! COME FACE ME LIKE A MAN!" a little painted Knight roared as he chased them on his chubby pony.
"Sorry, Sir Cadogan, but we need to see the headmaster," the green eyed boy said, making a prayer motion toward the portrait of the hyperactive knight who was brandishing his sword at them. "Maybe another time."
Hayato's head was spinning as he was hastily dragged away. He had to freak out the first time one of them spoke and punch it. And it had to be the most hyperactive, tenacious, annoying one of the lot. It was like a Lambo he couldn't physically truss up like a handbag and gag with duct-tape because it was a painting. The little Knight, Sir Cadogan, had taken deep offence to Hayato's kneejerk violent reaction and had been chasing them for three floors, screaming challenges and slurs against Hayato's name, honour, and steed. Given how he didn't have a horse, he had to suppress the wild urge to laugh hysterically, possibly until he started crying and had to sit on the floor and get control of himself. Because even with all of the crazy-ass shit, the time travel, the end of the world, the... the zombie Arcobaleno, he had at least been with Juudaime and Reborn, and the Baseball idiot, Lawn Head, the dumbass Cow, fuck, even Cavallone or that Kufufu-ing bastard.
Right now, he was alone.
"Don't worry," his guide suddenly said, breaking through his thoughts as he guided them down a secret passageway hidden behind a tapestry. "Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the current age, he'll figure out a way to send you home, so..." he trailed off and looked back at Hayato, it was almost unreal how green his eyes were. That colour was so freakishly close to pure Lightning Flame that he would have put money on that being the boy's Dying Will. "Don't look so sad. Try to think of this as a Holiday, or something," he suggested awkwardly before the back of his neck went a little pink and he hurried on. "We're not very far away now," he announced as they stepped out into a unusually narrow corridor panelled with wood.
The Storm Guardian followed along close behind, Miss Granger had already split away from them, offering to take both the egg and his broom back to Gryffindor Tower – where ever that was.
"It's a long way to get to, because you have to go to the seventh floor and then back down to the second in order to get to the right corridor," Harry explained when the silence started to get a little too uncomfortable, "The headmaster's office is in the south tower, and the only entrance is through the second floor, though sometimes it changes, last year it was on the third floor. I just hope the gargoyle'll let us in without a password, or we may be stood outside guessing sweets for half an hour."
"Sweets?" Hayato questioned.
"Yup. I've only been up there a few times, but Professor Dumbledore really likes sweets and always sets the password to a new kind of chewing gum or chocolate every time. Just don't be surprised if he offers you a sherbet-lemon, or a lemon-drop. Apparently he's been doing that for almost a decade," the dark haired boy warned him with an awkward smile. Hayato nodded, at least he was trying to set him at ease as they finally came to a stop in front of a looming gargoyle positioned in front of a blank wall. "The headmaster sent for us?" Harry offered hopefully.
"I know," the Gargoyle spoke, before stepping aside, dragging the wall along with it revealing an alcove with a set of hidden stairs.
"Thank you," the shorter boy said before ducking in, Hayato quickly following suit with a muttered thanks. After all the magic, he was entirely unprepared for the moving staircase – thankfully his guide had quick reflexes and caught his arm before he completely made a fool of himself by falling down. They went up the revolving staircase in silence until they reached a large, heavy oak door with an eagle-headed knocker.
"Come in!" an elderly voice called before they even touched it.
Harry shook his head and pushed the door, holding it open for the other boy to follow after. Professor Dumbledore's office hadn't changed overly much, bookshelves occupied almost every wall save one which was plastered with portrait frames of prior headmasters and mistresses, all of which were awake and eyeing them with ill-concealed interest. The spindly legged tables covered with puffing chiming and chirping machines was still present, and Fawkes sang from his perch, immediately taking wing and swooping to Harry's shoulder with a trill.
Stroking the magnificent bird, he eyed their reception committee with trepidation.
Headmaster Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall, Moody, and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Misters Bagman and Crouch, and Percy Weasley were all present and eyeing the two of them like bugs under a microscope.
"Welcome gentlemen, please, take a seat. Lemon-drop?" Dumbledore offered, smiling kindly as he extended a wicker basket of yellow sweets towards the two of them
"No thank you," Harry refused while the older boy just curtly shook his head, practically throwing himself into his seat like a delinquent knowing he's about to suffer an interrogation from people who have already made up their minds about his wrong-doing.
The headmaster set the basket back on his desk and smiled benignly down at the pair, "Well, let's get the pleasantries out of the way before we get down to the nitty gritty, shall we? I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, please allow me to introduce my colleagues, Deputy-Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Slytherin House, Professor Severus Snape, Retired Dark Wizard catcher and our current Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Alastor Moody. You've already had the pleasure of meeting our school nurse, Madam Poppy Pomfrey. We are the school staff here at Hogwarts. Over here we have Mister Ludo Bagman, head of the Magical Games and Sports department at the Ministry of Magic, Mister Barty Crouch, head of the International Magical Cooperation Division, also of the Ministry, and young Mister Percy Weasley, his junior under-secretary," the wizened old headmaster introduced, gesturing to each of those in the room and allowing Hayato to memories names and faces and places in the Government. Given how he was dealing with Department Heads, he was beginning to guess that he was in a slight bit more trouble than he anticipated, but not as much as he feared. There was only one retired 'Dark Wizard catcher' – which he could only assume meant police officer.
"And of course, you have met young Mister Potter here," the headmaster added as an after thought, gesturing to the green eyed boy who guided him there. Harry gave him a crooked, nervous smile where he was sat in the huge arm-chair, the fiery bird perched on his knee demanding scritches. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was a Phoenix, and that it was giving off the same feeling as a Box Weapon but cleaner. A creature made entirely out of Dying Will Flame, naturally. Made out of Sky and Sun respectively, it shouldn't have been possible without scientific interference, but here it was, and seemingly he was the only one who thought it was amazing. Maybe magic was some kind of mutation on the Dying Will Flame?
"Enough pleasantries, Albus," peg-leg growled, "Who the hell are you and what are you planning, eh? Dropping in all convenient like on Potter and then expecting us to believe that yeh can't go more'n a spittin' distance away from 'im?" he snarled, stumping forward grumpily, his northern accent getting noticeably thicker.
"Oh for heavens' sake, Alastor!" the nurse barked, "Don't jump down the boy's throat without giving him a chance to explain himself! Sit down you paranoid old coot and let the boy speak!" she ordered sharply, watching with gimlet eyes as the man subsided in an almost bewildered manner back into his seat.
Hayato, who had bristled violently at the accusations, relaxed somewhat, his fingers still itching desperately for a cigarette, or a stick of dynamite. He'd take either of them right about now. A cigarette to calm his nerves, and a stick of dynamite to cram up that asshole's half-missing nose. Make him more symmetrical, take a chunk out of the other side of his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw the red headed Under-secretary set up a piece of parchment and a quill on a table, muttering quietly to it and tapping it with his wand, the quill stood straight and scribbled a few lines of its own volition before going still, poised on its tip. Some kind of medieval magical dictation device?
"Let's start with your name, my boy, and move from there, shall we?" the headmaster prompted kindly.
He shifted, it was kind of like being confronted with a less intimidating Noveno, he was powerful, you could feel it in the air, but it wasn't violent or threatening, and it was certainly less blood-stained than the Ninth Head of the Vongola. If this man had actually ever killed someone, Hayato would be very surprised. His power had none of that copper tang he was used to from mafioso.
"M'name's Hayato Gokudera," he grunted, "Storm Guardian to the Tenth generation of the Vongola family's Head," he added, because everyone else seemed to be putting forward their fancy positions and it would help them to view him as someone more responsible than they were no doubt thinking.
"And just who is this Vongola and what is a Storm Guardian?" peg-leg pounced on him yet again.
"Alastor! Don't make me silence you!" the matron snapped. It was almost like watching a sitcom.
The headmaster nodded serenely, "Vongola, that's an Italian name. Yes, I have a recollection of young Madam Zabini's cousin working as a 'Guardian' for a gentleman of the Vongola family." Wait, what? Hayato's head snapped to him in shock, Zabini... that wasn't a name he knew, but then again, it wouldn't be surprising if someone changed their name upon joining up (Every one of the Ninth's Guardians had a name that was to do with a dessert or a sweet, he sincerely doubted they just so happened to be coincidentally born with those names, more than one of them had to have changed it for some reason – same with CEDEF who all had names related to herbs). The question remained, was this old guy for real, or was he bullshitting for some reason? "That's quite a well respected position if my memory serves me correctly."
Hayato nodded, unable to stop himself from preening a little. He had worked hard to try and be worthy of Juudaime's trust and confidence and while he knew he failed sometimes, he was much more confident now than he had been back then that he was doing a good job. Even the echo of G he sometimes felt in his Gear would hum in approval occasionally, which was the highest praise he could ever conceive getting unless it came from the Primo himself!
"Were you born in Italy?" the headmaster asked.
"Yeah."
"And your parents?" Mister Dumbledore prompted, again very nicely and very impossible to refuse. If he were being pushy or demanding, Hayato could quite cheerfully snap and snarl and threaten to take the man's head off and not lose a wink of sleep. But he was just being so damn polite, understanding that it was a hard situation, knowing he wouldn't want to answer the questions, but asking anyway because it might help them understand the situation. At least, that was the optimistic side of him talking. The less optimistic side was strongly reminded of Miss Granger's earlier words, about how these people only thought well of those from magical backgrounds. Were they asking about his parents to find out whether or not they had magic? And since this geezer recognised the Vongola, did that mean he knew other mafia Famiglias? Would he kick Hayato out if he knew? He decided to play it safe.
"Ma's name was Lavina Bonaccord," he explained and saw a spark of recognition in the headmaster's eyes as he sat up just a little bit straighter, he wasn't the only one either as both Mister Crouch and his Under-secretary did the same, the latter in shock, the former in disbelief. His mother had never actually gone by that name, but he'd found it on some of her old paperwork, apparently she had been disowned from the Bonaccord family for something or other – probably for having him. But Lavina Gokudera, as she had taken her mother's maiden Japanese name, was a known figure in social circles as someone who'd been involved with the mafia, it had ruined her pianist career because no one was willing to hire a woman involved with the criminal underworld. "She died a while back. I haven't spoken to the old man in almost a decade and I don't plan to either. He and I aren't on speaking terms," he continued as if he hadn't noticed their sudden shift in attention.
The headmaster nodded genially, "Very well. Down to the dirty, shall we? Can you tell us what your purpose here is, Mister Gokudera?" he asked, lacing his fingers together on top of the desk.
Hayato scoffed, "I don't have one. I don't even know how I fucking got here," he stated.
"Language, Mister Gokudera!" the tartan dressed witch snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "If you would keep a civil tongue in your mouth, young man, it would be appreciated," she told him sternly, her lips thinning dangerously, telling him in no uncertain terms that it was not a request.
He scoffed dismissively.
"Could you tell us what happened then, perhaps we can piece together what is going on and what brought you to Mister Potter," the headmaster suggested while Hayato huffed.
"It was a friend's birthday. The damn harpy-wom –" he cut himself off with a growl, "One of the girls had set up a party game. She knows I like anything to do with aliens or the occult so I got interested, but then she pissed me off and it just went downhill from there. I did the damn game and the next thing I know I'm turning around to leave and falling through open sky half way around the world," he explained gruffly, studiously not mentioning that he had been goaded into taking part in a dumbass schoolgirl love ritual.
Peg-leg growled, "And we're supposed to believe this? Potter's got people from left and right trying to kill him and then you mysteriously pop up out of no-where with a story like that? Snape, bring out the Veritaserum you were so keen on threatening the Sixth years with last week, eh?" he demanded, looking to the Head of Slytherin House who was lurking to one side with fathomless dark eyes. He, more than anyone else in this room, set Hayato on edge.
"Now, calm down Alastor. We're getting to the bottom of this, I assure you," the headmaster interrupted, waving down both men before turning his attention back to the silver haired Storm Guardian with a knowing glint in his eye and the beginnings of a smile at the edges of his lips. Fuck shit, did he know?! "Would you be so kind as to describe this game for us, my boy?" he asked thoughtfully.
Hayato felt the tips of his ears burn and knew that he had probably turned red with embarrassment as he tried to think back. "There was... a few lines of seasalt and crushed shell in a circle. A metal washing up bowl with a bunch of candles inside it, mostly scented vanilla and strawberry. Three, no four bowls, one with seasalt, the others with basil, sage, and mallowsweet. She said that... You had to list the things you liked in a person and burn the leaves in the candles to make smoke. The smoke would go to the one who had the things you listed. But she'd been pissing me off all night so I... kind of lost my temper, threw the whole lot in, salt and bowls while shouting at her."
There was a moment of silence in the room, and then Bagman started to laugh.
He laughed so hard he had to clutch the near-by table in order to stay upright as he cackled. The school nurse ignored him and quickly started flicking her wand over the two of them, mumbling spells and frowning at whatever the lights she conjured out of them meant. Hayato rubbed his face, he had a very sinking sensation that these people knew exactly what kind of ritual he had performed with that girl's insistence, and his tiptoe-ing around the actual words just made it all the more hilarious and humiliating.
The matron sighed, "I can confirm it, Albus. The ritual took," she explained as with a final flick of her wand, a red shimmer flickered to life from Hayato's hand, he jerked it away from his face with a squawk of alarm as he realised the shimmer was... connected like a cord to the other boy, Harry, who was staring at his hand in confusion and distress.
"So wait, he does a ritual and somehow we're bound together? How does that work? What does it mean?!" the younger boy demanded, looking at all the adults. Instantly wiping the smiles off the faces of Percy Weasley, the headmaster, McGonagall, and Bagman.
Albus sighed, "Alas, another area where Hogwarts has failed you, my boy. Such rituals as this were removed from the curriculum many years ago because such happenings were fairly common, and very distressing for the parents of those involved. Many Purebloods were exceptionally upset when their daughters would end up tying themselves to their true-loves, marrying and often becoming pregnant at a young age, breaking all manner of arrangements and alliances.
"The ritual young Mister Gokudera has taken part in was very popular during the pre-Roman era amidst the Painted Tribes. It was a simple little thing but it required a certain... emotional investment to truly be effective. In laymans terms, my boy, it was a love ritual designed to find a life-partner. When invoked, both parties subject to said ritual are bound together for a year and a day, unable to go further than the cord which you can currently see thanks to Madam Pomfrey's excellent Charm work, in order to test their compatibility.
"Typically, the ritual would be useless if invoked by a muggle. However..." he trailed off and looked at Hayato who blinked in confusion, "Your mother, Lady Bonaccord, comes from a very old and respected Pureblood line. Yes, it was quite a scandal when the last daughter of the family was born without magic, her parents cast her out almost immediately to make a living on the streets. I doubt... that the ritual would have worked had you not retained some of her magical heritage, however diminished."
Hayato goggled.
"You're actually telling me the ritual worked?" he spluttered.
The headmaster chuckled, his eyes twinkling like Lawn Head when presented with new boxing equipment, "Indeed my boy. As you can see, it worked very well." He gestured to the red cord that was still visible between himself and the smaller boy who was staring at it in confusion.
Wait so... the ritual worked... It worked and it brought him to... to him...
Jade green eyes widened and snapped to the younger boy's face, this was the person he requested in the ritual?!
He made a strangled sound of confusion, awe, shock, horror, delight, it was hard to tell, but it sounded a little like Uri that one time Tsuna picked her up and enfolded her into a huge tight hug before letting her escape. He jerked a thumb at the green eyed boy and looked in desperate askance at the headmaster, mouth working open and shut in mute disbelief.
The headmaster laughed and nodded.
"Th-that can't – no one can be that - " he spluttered in disbelief. No one could be everything that he asked for. He had asked for the perfect person, people like that just didn't exist beyond Juudaime.
"Oh, Mister Potter will surprise you with just what he's capable of," the Deputy Headmistress muttered ominously, sounding torn between amused and traumatised in that same way he'd heard Juudaime speak about Hibari and Mukurou's fights, torn between admiration and horror.
"I-I don't understand," the younger boy finally choked out plaintively, "You said this was a love ritual, right? But we're both guys. Is that even possible?" he asked, distressed and confused, unable to see the subtle shifts in everyone's facial expressions because all he could see were blurry flesh-coloured smudges.
Hayato bristled a little in disappointment and hurt, maybe he should have specified open minded as well, "Got a problem with that?" he flared aggressively. The kid just looked confused though.
"But – I've never even heard of it before. I thought – Uncle Vernon always said that - " he trailed off, shaking his head in abject bewilderment. Not disgust, just... confusion.
Hayato leaned back, inexplicably relieved as much as he was equally confused. How old was this guy? He was definitely younger than he was, but even he'd heard of gays and homosexuality by the time he was eight and running away from home. Then he remembered the comments from earlier about how his family had gone to some extreme lengths to hide magic away from him, hide something he was a part of away from him and managed it successfully until the giant from earlier came in and tied a rifle into a knot in order to give him his letter. With that in mind... It wasn't too difficult to conceive that they may have managed to shelter him from the very idea of homosexuality.
"Never mind, Uncle Vernon's a liar. Sorry." The boy shook his head and looked up at the blur he identified as his headmaster, "Is there any way of breaking the ritual? I don't think it would be very safe for him to be here given the Tournament if we can't go any further than what this allows. Never mind he probably has family and friends who are worried sick right now," he pointed out reasonably, waving his red shimmering hand.
"Ahh, that is the problem, my boy. The colour of the cord indicates the strength of the bond. I'm afraid, until November twenty fifth next year, you're stuck together."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the twinkling old man, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he seethed as Fawkes trilled on his knee. Damnit, even the Phoenix was laughing at him!
Dumbledore positively sparkled, "Indeed, my boy. Indeed!"
000
And that's chapter two done. Yes, I made Gokudera's mother a Squib from a pretty BAMF Pureblood family. Did you know that her ancestor was the first Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot? That's why Dumbledore and Crouch and Percy recognised the name but not McGonagall, Snape, or Bagman. And since Lavina would be... not far off Barty Crouch jr's age, he would be largely unaware of that drama.
Also, please note, I did a dumb in the last chapter: My wife is REIGHOST. Not Reisghost. That's my autocorrect kicking me in the butthole. I'm so sorry honey!
