Welcome back! I hope you all enjoy this week's chapter.
Disclaimer: All appropriate rights go to the owners of Bleach and Harry Potter.
The morning started off poorly. Ron was still in a bad mood from the 'motivational' letter his brother Percy had sent him; Harry's hand was smarting from when he'd banged it against the bathroom counter when he was brushing his teeth that morning; and Hermione, for reasons unknown, was mutilating a single strawberry on her plate instead of eating.
"What'd that strawberry ever do to you?" Ron asked as he slid onto the bench. Harry sat on the other side of Hermione.
"Shut up, Ronald," Hermione said testily. Ron and Harry exchanged shrugs over her head and turned to their own meals in silence.
"Don't talk to me for a few minutes, okay?" she said suddenly.
"Wasn't going to," Harry responded, and immediately regretted it when his friend shot him a glare. "Sorry."
So it was with trepidation that they watched the owls arrive. Harry moved the milk jug out of the way of the delivery owl, fearing what Hermione would do to the poor bird if it knocked the drink over. Then she gasped and shoved her plate with the pink pulp out of the way and flattened the newspaper against the table. "Look at this!" she exclaimed, a finger tracing the headline: Ministry Seeks Educational Reform, Dolores Umbridge Appointed First-Ever "High Inquisitor".
Harry immediately remembered something he'd learned about in primary school, the 'Spanish Inquisition', and thought that 'High Inquisitor' was a pretty stupid name to give a political official. But then he read the rest of the article and the thought was pushed far out of his mind.
"They can't do that!" he said. "That's a terrible idea!"
"Well, they did it," Hermione said grimly. Whatever had been bothering her at the beginning of breakfast appeared to have been forgotten; now she was turning the force of her fury down on the newspaper. Harry saw a flash of a title saying something about a wild magical creature before Hermione shoved it into her bag.
But then Ron chuckled. The two turned to look at him, and saw an evil grin spreading across his face. "McGonagall's going to humiliate her."
Harry had to laugh at this, and even as they went through their next several classes, the thought of the witch going head-to-head with the toad sustained him even through the miserable Potions class in which he got back his essay graded D.
But then they got to Divination, took their usual seats in the back, and waited for Trelawney to finish passing out the textbooks when the ladder leading out of the classroom creaked. The room went dead silent, everyone staring as a pink head emerged, followed by a squat body. Harry groaned, leaning back in the squashy chair.
"Great," he said in a low tone to Ron, who was rolling his eyes. "The toad and the quack in one room."
Ron snorted, burying his face in his arm to cover it as a cough.
The lesson was just as useless as usual, and Harry and Ron were in the middle of interpreting a 'dream' of Harry's (read: scribbling stuff down while eavesdropping on Umbridge interrogating Trelawney) when the toad asked if Trelawney had ever predicted anything that actually happened.
Harry's eyes met Ron's, and he knew they were both remembering her prediction that Peter Pettigrew would escape and rejoin Voldemort.
Trelawney gathered her shawls about her body as if to contain her indignation. "Of course I have," she replied primly. Umbridge made a sound and marked something down on her clipboard.
"Can you prove that?"
Trelawney sputtered, "Can I prove - I wo - I do not record all of my predictions."
"So, you are telling me that you can't?" Umbridge clicked her tongue and wrote something with a flourish. By now the entire class had given up on pretending to work, and was blatantly watching the two witches. "Well, since I'm a fair judge-"
Ron exploded into a hacking fit, slumped over onto the table with his head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking. Harry reached over and thumped his back, using the motion to hide his grin in his shoulder. Umbridge cleared her throat, nose impossibly high in the air.
"Hem hem. As I was saying, I will give you the opportunity to show your talent. Could you, perhaps, make a prediction?"
By no means was Harry a supporter of Trelawney; even so, he winced as he watched the Professor straighten up, anger written in every line of her body. "The Inner Eye does not respond to demands," she declared righteously.
"A shame," Umbridge said, raising her clipboard. Trelawney flinched.
"Wait!" she cried, widening her eyes. "It does- You… It speaks to me - of you! It - It says you are in...terrible danger!"
Harry found himself wishing that the Professor had managed to come up with something more original than her usual doom-and-gloom pronouncement. As it was, Umbridge regarded Trelawney with an amused expression and wrote something down. "Very well," she said. "You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."
She bustled away, snatching up her frilly handbag and making for the trapdoor when Trelawney, frozen in place, suddenly went stiff. "Beware," she said, in a tone of voice Harry had heard only once before - during third year. Umbridge turned at the sudden change. "There are dangers yet unknown in this world, but they are coming. They will find him, and they will destroy him, with all the power of the gods."
Harry gaped at the Divinations Professor, along with every other person in the room. 'They?' 'Him?' 'Power of the gods?' Had she gone mad?
Ron reached out and slapped his shoulder a few times. Harry pushed his hand away. "What?" he hissed, but Ron was staring at Umbridge, who'd gone an ugly shade of red.
Trelawney seemed to snap out of her trance. "I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" she said in confusion, looking around the room at the confused, astonished faces turned toward her.
Umbridge pushed back her shoulders, gaining about an inch in height. "Ten days," she said, and marched out the room.
Needless to say, the rest of that period was not spent on their dream journals.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat in a row during Defense Against the Dark Arts, pretending to take notes on the assigned reading, but really talking about what had just happened. Harry and Ron were of the opinion that she'd actually made a prediction; Hermione was more skeptical.
Their scribbled conversation came to a screeching halt when Umbridge decided to patrol the aisles. Harry shoved the parchment under his textbook, and the period was passed in silence, each of the trio lost in their own thoughts.
~oOo~
"And anyway," Hermione continued, neatly dodging a pothole in the road, "Professor Grubbly-Plank said she's been having a hard time getting some animals from the Forbidden Forest to show us during class - she thinks they're going into hibernation or something early; but it's not winter yet."
"Cold enough for it," Ron muttered, tightening the scarf around his neck. Even though the day was sunny and the sky was a clear blue, not a cloud for miles, a cold wind had them hurrying to get down to Hogsmeade.
Harry said nothing. It was their first Hogsmeade weekend, and the upcoming meeting was tying his stomach in knots. He wished he had planned out what he was going to say; he was terrible at speaking in front of large crowds. They'd had to give presentations a few times in class, especially in Charms, and he always felt jumpy beforehand and shaky after.
It'd been two weeks since Hermione had first pitched him the idea of leading a defense class - or club. Maybe if he thought of it like a club he'd be less nervous. Those two weeks had been fairly awful, with detention from the toad, horrible amounts of homework, and more creature attacks. Apparently the wards had failed at King's Cross, taken down by the magical creature Ginny had seen. They hadn't caught it yet, but it had probably left, since nothing else had been spotted.
Harry was beginning to dislike the way Wizards arranged their newspapers. The article about the rogue creature had been squished to one edge of the page, and the only reason he had seen it at all was because Ron had been complaining about one of the Chasers on the Chudley Cannons quitting after his wife died suddenly.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the clang of the bell on the door of the Hog's Head pub. Taking a look around, Harry grimaced. As opposed to the Three Broomsticks, the Hog's Head was downright dirty, with smudged windows, smoke-darkened walls, and stale air. The floor, as he stepped inside, was soft; looking down, he realized that there was a thick layer of dirt and what looked to his city-boy eyes like hay.
It was, however, a likely place to get a dragon's egg, something that Harry had always questioned about Hagrid's story. There were only a few patrons scattered about the place: a man in grungy bandages, downing some smoky drink; two dementor-like figures speaking in Yorkshire accents; and a witch with a thick black veil covering her face. The lighting wasn't very good in the place; as Hermione stepped towards the bar, the flickering candles cast uneven shadows, so that Harry was convinced for a moment that someone was sitting at the table in the corner.
But he looked again as they moved to a table as far from the other customers as possible, and saw nothing. He sat stiffly in the hard wooden chair and took a swig out of his butterbeer, and it wasn't long before people started to pour in, startling the other patrons; the two dementors with the Yorkshire accents got up and left, and the man drinking the smoky liquid turned his bandaged face in their direction.
The meeting seemed to take hours, though his watch said it was only about half of one. Harry was very glad to be out of the pub, the air and sun seeming much brighter than before. He tuned out Hermione and Ron as they talked about Ginny's dating life - something he felt extremely out of place taking part in a discussion about - but his head whipped around when he heard Cho's name.
"What?" he asked, then felt his face burn at his reaction. Hermione laughed and pushed Ron.
"See? I told you that would get his attention!"
Harry's face was now on fire. He turned into the wind to give himself an excuse. "Shut up," he muttered into his scarf. His 'friends' laughed behind him, and then he felt a tug on his sleeve, and was pulled into a shop. His protests faded when he saw - squinting - that they'd led him into a eyeware shop.
His stomach gave an uneasy flop.
"You need new glasses," Hermione said matter of factly, bending over a display case. "And we have some time before we need to go back to school, so why not get them now?"
"Nah, it's fine," he said, but didn't leave. It was true that he needed new glasses; it was very annoying, especially in Potions, to have to keep asking Ron or Hermione what the next line on the board was.
"Nonsense. You're getting glasses." Hermione pushed him towards the shopkeeper, who was watching them with interest.
"Do you know your prescription?" the woman asked with a friendly smile. Harry froze.
"Uh, no…"
He hadn't even known he needed one; the only type of prescription he'd heard of was for medicine, like when his Aunt Petunia sometimes stopped to fill hers at the pharmacy.
The shopkeeper was unperturbed. "That's all right," she chirped, gesturing for him to sit down on a stool. He looked back to see Hermione pointing to one style with Ron looking bored beside her. "Just hold still for a moment," the woman instructed, and waved her wand in front of his face. She studied the parchment that protruded from the tip, then made a vague gesture with her hand. "Here's all the types of glasses we have, but you want I can custom-make something for you. It will take some time to create, however."
Harry gave her a nervous nod, then went up to Hermione. "Any suggestions?" he asked. She shrugged.
"Well, I like this one," she said, indicating one with a red and gold frame, "but Ron says it's tacky."
Harry winced and looked back at the shopkeeper, but she was bending over something on the counter, and didn't appear to be paying attention to them.
"How about something like my old ones?" he suggested. "Just plain black."
"Well, if you're sure," Hermione shrugged, and moved off to search the rest of the store. Ron sidled up to Harry. He jerked his head at the shopkeeper.
"She's hot," he muttered.
"Ron!" Harry smacked the back of his friend's head.
"What?" he asked, moving away. "You don't think so?"
Thankfully Hermione had found a frame that looked suitably close to his old ones, along with a black leather case that snapped shut. Harry tried them on. "Well?"
"You finally look normal again," Hermione laughed.
"Did you find a frame you like?" the shopkeeper called out suddenly. Harry turned, and gave her the frame. She took it, set it down on the counter, and asked, "Now, we offer a wide selection of charms that can go along with the glasses. Each one adds an additional cost, depending on the charm. Would you like to see what we have?"
"We would," Hermione said. Harry laughed but nodded at the woman.
"Let him talk, 'Mione," Ron told her. He had put on a pair of bright pink glasses that had little moving bits on the edges. "Hey Harry, I think you should get this one."
"I think Luna would like it," Harry said, then turned back to the counter, on which the shopkeeper had laid a book detailing all of the charms available. She pointed out the most popular ones, then turned and started working on something else, giving them a little privacy. With Hermione's help, Harry chose shatter-resistant, scratch-resistant, weather-repelling (for Quidditch), and a charm that would automatically return it to the case if he took it off. "Sucks if I lose the case," he joked, watching the shopkeeper put the glass into the frame, then add the charms.
Taking them back, Harry put them on. "Whoa," he said, and looked around. "Everything's so clear now!"
He hadn't realized just how bad his eyesight was; even his old glasses weren't this good! He could see every little detail now, and the edges of things were so much sharper. There was a bird outside, feathers fluffed up to preserve its body heat, and he could tell what color it was, something he hadn't been able to do before.
Harry took them off and rubbed his eyes. Everything seemed so much duller now.
The shopkeeper was smiling. "Good?"
"They're amazing! How much do I owe you?"
He walked out of the store a few minutes later, twelve Galleons poorer, but he felt like he'd just won the lottery. Everything seemed so much more in focus now, and he could see all the way down the street, to the group of third years clustered around a fountain, splashing water on each other. He could even make out the disgruntled expression of a small, white-haired boy as he darted between shops.
"Hermione, seriously, thank you for dragging me in there. This is…" He trailed off, unable to come up with words adequate enough to express what he was feeling. "I can't, this is just…"
"Don't start crying on us now," Ron said, and Hermione smacked him. She turned and beamed at Harry.
For the first time that year, Harry felt like things were finally going his way. They were starting up an actual Defense class, he'd done most of his homework for the week, and he could see.
Things were finally looking up.
~oOo~
If asked, Hitsugaya would not say that he was a particularly paranoid person. Certainly more cautious than some others, but to label him as paranoid would be stretching the truth.
There were, of course, those that would say otherwise - mainly Matsumoto.
In any case, his caution was coming in handy these days.
The Wizards were essentially an unknown society. They could be more powerful than the Shinigami or weaker, more advanced or less. As such, any mission dealing with them was treated with due prudence and given to the higher Seats, with Hitsugaya himself leading many of expeditions. It was normally unusual for a Captain to spend so much time in the World of the Living, but Matsumoto was currently investigating a recent influx of souls in the southeast of the UK, their Third Seat was stuck with most of the paperwork and daily business of the Division, and the Fourth Seat was working alongside Hitsugaya in Scotland. The rest of their officers - up to the Tenth Seat - either ran intelligence missions in places with a confirmed low number of wizards, stayed in Soul Society gathering and organizing what data had been obtained so far, or studied the Wizarding Society in-depth.
For the Shinigami were relentless in their task, and they had discovered much about the Wizards thus far.
They'd learned about the war, of the dark wizard 'Voldemort' - a name which Hitsugaya and many of his officers found quite ridiculous, considering no being could escape death - and compiled what they could on the Wizarding World's history. It had taken them over a month to gather enough information to gain an accurate idea of what was going on and who was most likely to have committed the Forbidden Arts, considering the secrecy of the Wizards. But they had done it, and they knew who they were going after.
Voldemort. The self-styled 'Dark Lord' himself.
The Tenth Division had established several facts about this new world they were entering into: the Wizards could see them in their soul forms, an annoying but essential fact; the Wizards used 'magic' - really a weakened version of reiatsu; and, most importantly, nothing the Wizards did was logical.
All of this combined to make interacting and studying the Wizards more frustrating: only high-ranked officers could make direct contact; only those Shinigami with the ability and patience to needle answers out of unsuspecting informants were suited to the task. And Hitsugaya would only let his own Division do this, for his people were specially trained in these sorts of things, and Soifon was being irritatingly stringent with her own men. She argued that she had other things to do that took up their time, and if his men couldn't handle this, he should just turn over everything he had and let her lead the operation.
This was not an option to Hitsugaya or his Division, to whom he had casually mentioned this as an option - albeit a last-resort one - when some of the officers had been flagging.
"Those prissy ninjas can shove a stick right up their ass!" his Ninth Seat had cried upon hearing the news.
That pretty much summed up their opinion on admitting defeat. Their pride as a Division wouldn't let them give this up.
In any case, the work had turned into a slog, and Hitsugaya, currently mapping out the land surrounding Hogwarts - the school that teaches little wizards how to control their 'magic' - was glad of the call from his Fourth Seat warning him of the mass exodus from the castle, heading down to the village not far away, and that he had some information to give to the Captain.
Hitsugaya slipped the mapping device loaned to the Tenth Division from the Twelfth - gained through a bargain that the Tenth would provide them with samples of Wizarding magic, something that Hitsugaya was going to do anyway, but he happily played the part of being annoyed with the extra work - and headed towards the magical village called 'Hogsmeade'.
As his sword was concealed through a handy piece of Kido, Hitsugaya found it no problem to slip through the village, the occupants of which naturally assumed he was one of the visiting children from the school. He entered his Fourth's assigned meeting-place, a dark, grimy bar that smelled strongly of wet animal.
He followed a group of teenagers into the place, pretending to be part of them, and he doubted the patrons of the place noticed him. Noya Sanzo was sitting in one dark corner of the room, partially hidden behind a pillar, and waved the Captain over. Hitsugaya's hair and haori were not the best color to blend into a dark area, so he pulled up the hood of a dark jacket he'd bought.
"Hey Captain," Noya said as Hitsugaya sat down next to him, facing the rest of the room. "Would you like a drink?"
Hitsugaya eyed the mug on the table and sniffed it, smelling something sweet. "What is it?" he asked. The Fourth Seat shrugged.
"Not sure what's in it, but the-" He broke off, rolled his eyes, and continued. "The kids coming in called it 'Butterbeer'. I figured I'd give it a try. Make it seem like I'm not doing anything suspicious."
"Everyone in here is doing something suspicious," Hitsugaya responded, eyeing the large group of teens holding a meeting on the other side of the room, and the other patrons obviously listening in. He returned his attention to the drink and took a small sip, nearly gagging at the cloyingly-sweet taste. It did not have the distinctive burn of alcohol, but he almost wished there was. Anything to mask that taste.
"Oh- Mm. I regret that decision," he said, strangled, and set it back down, pushing it roughly back over to Noya. "What'd they do, put a whole stick of butter in that thing?"
"Probably two or three," the officer replied, and lifted the mug. "Cheers." He downed a large gulp, the Captain watching in amazement and disgust.
"You like that concoction?"
"Well, 'like' is relative. I paid good money for this."
"About that. Where'd you get the money?"
"Some woman dropped some coins and I didn't feel the need to give them back," Noya shrugged. "Besides, it would have required her seeing me, and I was tailing her at the time."
"Let me see them."
As the Captain examined the coins, the teens' meeting continued. A man sitting near the fireplace finished off his drink and pounded the table for another. While the room's attention was focused on the probably-not-really-allowed meeting, Hitsugaya finally asked why his Fourth Seat had asked to meet him here. At this the officer's easy-going grin faded into a more professional scowl.
"The Twelfth Division finished their long-range scanners, and they discovered that the wards around that train station were deliberately taken down."
"By who?"
"They weren't sure, but judging by what the - these people are dealing with, I'd say it'd have to be the Death Eaters." Noya's scowl darkened. "Their names are terrible."
Hitsugaya leaned back in his chair, gazing across the room at the girl who was currently speaking. She had thick brown hair, and wore a gold-and-red scarf around her neck. "Well, that is good to know. Irritating, since it makes our job harder, but useful information nonetheless. But why did you ask to meet here?"
Beside him, Noya raised his arm, and disguised the gesture as a grab for the drink. "See the boy with the dark hair, the one sitting next to the kid with red hair?"
Hitsugaya followed the rather vague instructions. "The one scratching his nose?"
"That's it. He's the one I felt at the train station, with the two souls."
Now that Hitsugaya knew what to look for, he extended his senses and immediately felt what had caught his Fourth's attention: the boy had an unusual dual-type reiatsu, with the dominant being lighter and nearly enveloping the second. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before; a person only had one soul. That was a fact. For one body to be carrying two… It had to be someone else's soul. But why the boy would allow someone to insert a soul into his body was beyond the Captain. And why would the other person split his soul? And how?
"This just became more complicated," Hitsugaya said. He ran a hand down his face and left it under his chin. "All right. First thing's first, we need to figure out who that kid is."
"Potter Harry," Noya said immediately. Hitsugaya looked over at him.
"You sound confident."
"I heard them talking to each other before the others came in," the Fourth responded. "He's the one that almost killed this Voldemort character."
The meeting was ending; students were finishing their drinks and exiting, leaving the bar much quieter than before. Soon only the three leaders were left, but only a few moments later they too walked out, leaving the adult patrons in peace.
"He did nothing," Hitsugaya said dryly. "He would have been about a year old when Voldemort disappeared. He couldn't have done anything as a baby."
"Everyone seems to think he did something. One of the newspapers mentioned him surviving a killing curse."
"I read that. It still means nothing. He was just a baby. There must have been outside circumstances."
Hitsugaya refused to believe a baby could have done anything special to deserve all of this fame, even if most of it seemed to be negative. Some people were just born more powerful, yes, but even those people had to train their skills in order to do anything useful with them. Hitsugaya himself was an example: Hyourinmaru had started calling him back when he lived with his grandmother, but he'd only learned the name of the dragon after training. Before that, it was just a wild, uncontrollable danger to everyone around him. And besides, he doubted any baby was aware enough at that age to understand that it was in danger.
A flash of motion brought him out of his thoughts. The bartender had come out from the back room, and had started to clean the glasses left by the pack of students.
Suddenly Hitsugaya felt the urge to leave the place; it was irrational, but there was just something that told him to get out. He fought the urge, his hands tightening in the folds of his uniform. He was a Captain. He didn't give in to sudden urges.
Noya Sanzo looked into his mug of Butterbeer and sighed. "I feel old," he said. Hitsugaya shot him a glance. The Fourth Seat was by no means an old man - he was just entering middle-age, if anything. But the man wasn't done yet. "The Academy students are graduating tomorrow," he continued, rocking the drink like one would an expensive wine. "I barely even remember my graduation. I think I stayed up late the night before."
Hitsugaya lowered his hands to grip the edge of his chair. The wood was smooth to the touch, worn by years of people sitting on it and sanding down the edges.
"I remember I had all these dreams about what I would do, what Division I would get into. I had a friend who wanted to go into the Fourth; she was so scared she wouldn't make it." Noya chuckled low, still swirling his drink. The lines on his face were more pronounced, and his eyes were distant. "I was such an idiot. I told her that of course she would get in, the Fourth takes anyone. She got mad. And I mean mad. Her eyes - I could see the fire in them. She said that I would fit right in in the Eleventh. She said that's where all the idiot brutes go."
Noya's voice trailed off. He was staring into his drink, expression pensive.
There was a notch in the wood, two finger-lengths from the edge. Hitsugaya traced it with his thumb, watching the man in silence. He may be far from the best conversationalist in the world, but he'd always been a good listener. Even if he wasn't sure why someone was talking to him.
Whatever answers Noya had been looking for in the dregs of the sweet drink, he didn't find them. Setting the empty mug down on the table with a soft thump, the man flexed his hands. "Ah, I'm rambling," he said, trying for a grin and failing. "I don't even know why I'm saying this. I know you dislike useless conversation."
"It is not useless."
Noya nodded, but but his expression very clearly conveyed that he wasn't convinced. He wouldn't meet Hitsugaya's eyes as he straightened up. "I can take your patrol when you need to leave to meet the new recruits," he offered. Hitsugaya watched him for a few seconds, considering. Then he looked away.
"I have a device from the Twelfth that maps the land and any strong spots of reiatsu. I was going to finish up here today and take tomorrow to prepare." He stood up, sensing that the time had come to leave. "Head back home. Take the rest of the day off."
Noya followed him to his feet, looking faintly surprised. "I'm fine, sir," he protested in a low voice so as to not carry, but got to the door first and held it open for his superior, ignoring the look that followed. Noya shivered at the sudden transition from stuffy interior to cold exterior. Hitsugaya breathed in the refreshing air.
"Go home," he said. "Just don't drink when you do."
Noya looked astonished. He opened his mouth to complain, but Hitsugaya beat him to it.
"Consider that an order if you must. I recommend you stay away from alcohol tonight."
After a long moment, Noya nodded slowly. "Thank you, Captain," he whispered.
~oOo~
Harry couldn't stop yawning.
He sat up on the edge of his bed and yawned, feeling his jaw pop a little. "Ow," he said, more to say something rather than an actual expression of pain. Then he got up and blearily fumbled his way over to the bathroom, stripping and climbing into the shower. His intent was for the cold water to wake up a little, but his plan backfired when he yawned and got soap in his mouth.
"Never again," Harry muttered, finding his way back to bed and collapsing onto it. He had to get up soon, but...his trunk was so far away, and he'd have to get up to get dressed. His eyes were heavy…. He could just lay here until…
He was jolted out of the half-daze by Ron shaking his shoulder. "Hey, get up," the redhead said, grinning. "You want breakfast, don't you?"
"Ugh," Harry groaned, flapping a hand behind him. "Go away."
His friend disappeared, and Harry forced himself to get up, pull on some clothes, grab his wand and glasses, and stumble down the stairs. Hermione and Ron were sitting by the fire, talking, so he made his way across the room to lean on the back of Hermione's chair.
"We go'f breakfast?" he mumbled, yawning. Hermione tilted her head back to give him a smug look.
"Tired are we?"
"No."
Harry wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of knowing that she was right in telling him to go to bed earlier. But he'd had homework to do, and staying up as late as he needed to get it done had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Even if he'd had to stay up to four in the morning.
He didn't think it was such a good idea anymore.
The morning passed in a daze: he was half asleep on his feet, and Ron and Hermione had to keep nudging him in the right direction. He almost fell down the fake step, tried to pour pumpkin juice on his cereal, and used Hermione's newspaper as a napkin. He was doomed for History of Magic; Ron stopped poking him several minutes in while Hermione rolled her eyes, muttered, and just generally acted put-upon, but she did promise to lend him her notes.
In fact, he only woke up half an hour after the start when the door opened and the voice of Professor McGonagall rang through the room, snapping several students out of their stupor. "Professor Binns, could I borrow Ms. Brown?"
The ghost waved her off, and Lavender Brown gathered her things and left, looking confused. She didn't return the rest of that class, nor for lunch, during which her friends commandeered a section of the table and sat talking about where she was. None of them appeared to know what was going on, and Harry really didn't pay much attention to them, other than feeling slight irritation that the group was sitting in his usual spot.
In fact, the next time anyone saw Lavender was in their next Potions lesson, her eyes downcast and actions listless. The class, joint as it was with the Slytherins, was surprisingly quiet and uneventful, everyone feeling the mood coming off in waves from the girl. Even Snape was less aggravating than usual, keeping his comments relatively to himself. But as the class progressed, her friends continually tried getting her to talk, causing her to get more and more tense.
Eventually her temper exploded, after she aggressively shook too much powdered goat horn into her brewing potion, causing it to bubble and froth ominously. She gave a wordless shout and shoved at her cauldron, tipping the heavy pewter over the edge of her desk. Instantly every eye was on her, except the students at the table in front of her who lunged out of the way of the boiling liquid.
Snape crossed the room in seconds, waving his wand to vanish the spilled potion and lift the cauldron back onto the lab table. "Detention, Ms. Brown!" he snapped, voice sharp and unyielding. "For endangering the students of this class."
The girl glared at the teacher, shoved her wand into her back pocket, and swept a textbook into her bag. "Screw. You," she said, very clearly. Harry flinched back, half convinced they were about to see the girl murdered. The class stared at her, gaping.
Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get out," he growled. Lavender snarled in an unexpected display.
"My aunt died; I don't give a damn about you or your class."
One of her friends gave a small squeak, raising her hands to cover her mouth.
"Leave. Now."
Lavender stalked down the aisle, the students nearest her shrinking away, and slammed the door shut behind her. Silence reigned over the class, who stared at the door then at Snape, who was clenching and unclenching his hands. He whirled around and marched back to his desk. "Back to work!"
The class continued, but none of their potions were made correctly, even Hermione's, due to distraction and the disruption of timing Lavender's outburst had caused. They all received zeros for the day and were kicked out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, chattering animatedly.
"What was that about?" Ron asked Hermione, who shrugged helplessly.
By dinnertime that day, the whole school had heard about the incident and was still talking about it during the meal, including the trio.
"Did she say her aunt is dead?" Ron questioned, stirring his mashed potatoes with his fork, for once not shoveling food in as fast as humanly possible.
"I think so," Hermione answered. She was staring down at the peas on her plate as if they held the key to unlocking the universe.
"Guess they were close."
"Wonder if… Do you think her aunt's death is connected to what's happening in the east?" Then she looked up at their uncomprehending faces. "Why am I even asking you two?" she sighed. "Nevermind. It's probably nothing."
Harry glanced at Ron. "What's happening in the east?"
"Oh, they think some magical creature's loose and killing a bunch of people, but-" Hermione shook her head in frustration. Her thick hair whipped around and smacked Harry across the nose. "I don't know."
"Magical creature like the one at the train station?" Harry suggested. Hermione stared at him.
"You know, you're right. That was definitely an animal. Though I don't know why it would go for a wand-repair shop."
The three were silent for a long time, each picking at their food without really eating it. Finally Ron suggested, "Maybe it wasn't a magical creature at all. Maybe You-Know-Who sat on his wand and broke it."
Harry frowned down into his dinner. Hermione glared at their friend. "That wasn't funny, Ronald," she hissed. Ron threw up his hands.
"All right, all right. Just trying to lighten the mood. Forget I said anything, okay?"
~oOo~
There was large house in Wiltshire that seemed to attract all sorts of foul people. Hitsugaya hadn't gone in yet, but he had noticed many strange people coming and going. Strangely enough, some people came out that he hadn't noticed going in, so he figured there was something inside the place that allowed wizards to move from Point A to Point B without having to physically walk there.
The building was most likely warded to keep the non-magical folk out, as the closest one of them got to the door was one man who went to lean up against the wall that ran around the place, cigarette in hand. He'd jolted back, looked around, then walked down the street with a confused expression.
Luckily the wards didn't affect Shinigami. Hitsugaya had tried going up to the building, and while he'd never gone inside, he hadn't had a problem getting close enough to touch the brick. It was a relief, he supposed, that the Wizards' wards couldn't keep out Shinigami. They were used to going where they wanted, without being hampered by the humans' flimsy protections, and to be barred from a place because of a simple mortal barrier was insulting.
Ever since the Twelfth had gotten their scanners working, the Soul Society had found pockets of Wizarding reiatsu scattered all across the world. They'd since refined their search to the UK, where the source of the Forbidden Arts seemed to be, and this property in particular had a dark presence. They were unsure if the person who'd committed the crime was inside, but there was something in there that was alerting their senses.
Hitsugaya was currently examining the place, taking stock of what would be a good point of entrance, approximately how many people were inside, and getting used to the grounds. If they had to breach the place, he did not want to be going in blind.
Suddenly his soul phone went off. Letting out a soft curse, Hitsugaya fumbled in his pockets for it, then thumbed it open. "Captain Hitsugaya," he hissed, backing away from the house. He was in what appeared to be the gardens, surrounded by high hedges, and it would not do to be taken by surprise, if he got distracted by the call.
"Third Seat Akon," came the voice on the other side. Hitsugaya nodded slightly. That cleared up some of his confusion. "Captain, have you been in contact with your Fourth Seat recently?"
"No, I have not," Hitsugaya answered. He'd found a relatively secure place, and was crouched there. "He should be up by the castle. Why? Has something happened?"
There was silence for a moment. Then: "Yes, Captain. Our scanners recorded a disturbance several minutes ago, following which we are unable to locate your Fourth Seat."
Hitsugaya tensed. "He disappeared? Have you tried contacting him?"
"Of course." Akon's voice registered slight annoyance. "That was the first thing we tried. We have not been able to contact him at all or find him anywhere in the World of the Living. And there have been no records of Senkaimon use to Soul Society within that time."
"All right." Hitsugaya thought about this for a moment, running possible situations over in his head. "Okay, I'll head over there now. Keep me updated."
"Will do, Captain." A click, then silence. Hitsugaya closed his phone and tapped the cover with one finger. There could be several logical, non-alarming reasons why his Fourth Seat's reiatsu suddenly disappeared. But to not answer a call from the Twelfth…. He could be in a situation where he couldn't risk someone hearing him.
Slipping the phone into his pocket, Hitsugaya stood and drew his zanpakuto. The fastest way to get to the castle would be by Senkaimon, though he wouldn't go directly there. If Noya Sanzo was trying to go unnoticed by someone in particular, arriving right in the middle of the situation was a good way of getting him noticed.
He jabbed the sword forward and twisted.
Nothing happened.
"What?" He tried again. Still nothing.
As a Captain, he should be able to open a Senkaimon whenever and wherever he needed to.
Hitsugaya paced forward a step and passed his hand through the air. Nothing was there to keep him from opening a portal. So why couldn't he…?
He turned and tried again in a different direction. Still, no gates appeared. Now getting worried, Hitsugaya jogged a few yards away and stabbed forward.
"Okay." He ran his free hand through the air. "Hyourinmaru, are you doing this?"
The dragon in his soul stirred, deep voice rumbling. "This is not my doing."
"Then what's going on?" Trying it again, Hitsugaya was relieved feel resistance against the blade as it opened up the gate. Still, he made no move to go through, eyeing the doors and Hell Butterfly suspiciously. After a few minutes of nothing happening, Hitsugaya hesitantly stepped forward, still not sheathing his sword. If the Senkaimon was unstable, he did not want to be going in unarmed.
But nothing unusual happened during the whole trip, and he arrived on the other side with no problem. Still, he faced the gate until it closed, leaving nothing but dark sky behind, and only then allowed himself to relax. He wanted to tell himself to forget it, that he was just tired and having a bad day, but an uneasy feeling had settled in his stomach and wouldn't let go.
Turning, he surveyed the castle below. Everything seemed normal, though like Akon had said, he couldn't sense Fourth Seat Noya anywhere. Frowning, he flash stepped lower and closer, hoping the wards were throwing off his senses.
He had just enough time to hear a loud, sharp screech before something barreled into him from behind, knocking him forward. Hitsugaya regained his balance and turned to see a large white shape struggling to right itself in the air. He backed away, hand raised in preparation to fire a Shakkaho, when the white shape leveled out and swooped down at him, screeching angrily. Sharp talons raked his face, uncomfortably close to his eye, so he batted it away with his left hand.
The owl - for that was what it was, not a Hollow, and therefore why he hadn't blasted it out of existence yet - described a large circle around him, clacking its beak at him before turning and zooming away. "Stupid bird," Hitsugaya muttered, raising one hand to prod at the scratches on his cheek. They were deep, and stung badly. And he doubted that the owl's claws were at all clean.
"Oh, what a great day this is turning out to be," the Captain grumbled, waving a hand over his face. He could at least clean the scratches so they didn't get infected. He also suspected the bird had stabbed him with its beak upon initial impact, as there was a specific spot on his back that was noticeably smarting.
"Poor owl," Hyourinmaru chuckled. Hitsugaya scowled, dropping his hand.
"Traitor."
The dragon snorted and curled up to go back to sleep.
Shaking his head, Hitsugaya started the search for his Fourth Seat. It was late in the night so there was no one on the grounds of the school, though he could feel the pressures of many beings in the forest and lake, none of which were human. But no Noya Sanzo. Hitsugaya searched for several hours, getting closer to the castle than he had dared go before, in the hopes that his subordinate had, for some inane reason, decided to go inside.
There was nothing. No sign of a battle, no lingering spirit particles, no dead bodies. Nothing. It was if the man had just vanished.
The thought that the Fourth Seat had just gone, as in intentionally ran away, crossed the Captain's mind, but he fairly quickly dismissed it as a possibility. Hitsugaya knew the man well enough to know that he wouldn't leave his post without a very good reason. It was one of the reasons that Hitsugaya had enjoyed working with him during this particular assignment: he did his job well, without wandering off or getting distracted, and the Captain could count on him to be there. Which made his disappearance all the more puzzling and troubling.
Finally he had to admit that the man was nowhere near the castle when the sun started to rise. Hitsugaya flash stepped away, to an outcropping of rock, and pulled out his soul phone. He dialed, held it to his ear, and heard a sleepy voice answer: "Hey, Cap'ain. Whazzup?"
Well, it was very early in the morning, so he couldn't blame her too much for not being very alert yet. "Matsumoto, is Fourth Seat Noya Sanzo in the Division?"
Matsumoto groaned, and there was a prolonged shuffling sound. "Noya Sanzo?" she repeated, sounding slightly more awake. "Our Fourth? I thought he was down in the World of the Living with you."
"So did I. The Twelfth called me a few hours ago saying that he disappeared from their scanners. I just finished searching his assigned area and found no sign of him. Before I do anything else I want to make sure that he didn't come back to the Soul Society for some reason and didn't tell anyone."
"Um…" Matsumoto pulled the phone away to yawn. "Uh, okay, I'll ask around. Oh, Captain, while I have you, all those deaths in the east? Yeah, they just stopped. I don't know why, but we buried one round of souls, then everything went back to normal. It's weird but… I don't know. Maybe they just had a bad flu season or something?"
"Maybe." Hitsugaya scowled across the hills at the castle. The sun hadn't risen above the surrounding mountains yet, so the peaks were just dark chunks of rock backlit against a pale sky. "Let me know what you find out."
"Bye!"
Unfortunately, Noya was not in the Soul Society, and Hitsugaya ended up going to the Twelfth Division himself. Captain Kurotsuchi was - thankfully - busy experimenting with the Wizarding things sent to him, so he talked to Akon instead. The Third Seat was in what appeared to be the communications room, with at least a dozen computer screens casting an unnatural glow about the room. There were several people in there - including one boy sitting on the ground, for some reason - but Akon was easy to see, as he stood up as soon as Hitsugaya walked in.
"Captain Hitsugaya," the officer said, giving said Captain a small bow. "I take it you did not find your man?"
"No," Hitsugaya replied, glancing around. He could see what looked like a world map on one of the monitors mounted on the wall, with little dots of black, red, and green scattered across the continents. On the lower computers stationed on the workbench, there were lists and running diagnostics and windows popping up so fast he couldn't tell what half the stuff was. "The disturbance you mentioned - what was it?"
Akon turned away, going back to the computer he had been sitting at before. His hands flew over the keyboard, and within moments he had a video loaded and was waving the Captain over. Moving closer, Hitsugaya saw that the video was a recording of the map of Scotland, with the Hogwarts castle and Hogsmeade village indicated. As he watched, the dot that was his subordinate blinked several times and disappeared. The video ended there.
"What could have caused that?" Hitsugaya asked. "I've been there myself, and while the wards take some getting used to, they do not cause any harm."
"It must have been the-" Akon cut himself off, jaw tense. "-the inhabitants of the area. We did not record any Hollows present in the area that would have killed him."
That was the trouble with being a Shinigami, Hitsugaya reflected. No bodies left behind.
"Hn." He said. "Have there been any troubles with the Senkaimon recently?"
"The Senkaimon?" Akon asked, taken aback at this abrupt change of topic. "No. Why?"
Hitsugaya debated internally for a moment. "After you called me, I opened a gate to get to the castle. It would not open after several tries. Eventually it did work, and I found nothing off going through, but I have never had any trouble opening a gate before this."
Akon stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned his chair around and started typing. A menu expanded, and he clicked rapidly through it until he came to a long graph-like screen constantly expanding. There were several lines on it, intersecting or parting at different intervals. The whole thing meant nothing to Hitsugaya, but Akon scrolled back and studied the graph as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Eventually he sat back.
"Everything seems fine, but I can keep an eye on it."
Hitsugaya scowled. If there was nothing wrong with the Senkaimon, then that meant there was something wrong with the individual who had tried to open it. Him.
"If you would," he said, turning away. "Thank you for your time."
The walk back to his Division was done in silence. The idea that there could be something wrong with him or his zanpakuto was worrying. He was a Captain - he couldn't be at anything but a hundred percent, especially with everything that was going on now. If something was wrong….
"There is nothing wrong with you," Hyourinmaru suddenly rumbled. Hitsugaya, having just entered his Division, paused.
"You are sure? How can you tell?"
"I am your power," the dragon answered, sliding through the air of his inner world. "I am at full strength, and by extension so are you."
That was a relief, and Hitsugaya was more than willing to trust his zanpakuto on this matter. But it still didn't explain why he hadn't been able to open a Senkaimon. He'd never had a problem opening one, after learning how. It was basically just unlocking a door using a zanpakuto. It was far from difficult - at least for him - and as far as he knew, no one else had had trouble.
Then the thought struck that he might not be able to open a Senkaimon when he really needed one - if he or someone else was injured, to retreat during a battle. His blood ran cold. That would be very, very bad. Catastrophically bad, if the Shinigami lost the ability to travel freely between the World of the Living and the Soul Society. They would be stuck in either place, unable to purify Hollows or send plusses on, a situation which would eventually disrupt the balance of the entire universe.
No more children would be born in the Living World, no more souls would appear in the Soul Society - which meant no more Shinigami, which again led to the collapse of the universe.
A pulse of calming reiatsu drew him out of his thoughts and into his inner world. The ice dragon residing there was coiling around him, ice sliding over ice in a repetitive, soothing sound. "You are overthinking it," Hyourinmaru said, crimson eyes amused. "This is not going to lead to the end of the world."
"You saw my train of thoughts," Hitsugaya protested, sticking his hands into his sleeves. "This could be bad."
The dragon shook his head. "This is the first time this happened," he rumbled. "If the problem persists, that is when it is time to worry. It could have just been a fluke accident. Get some rest. You are tired and worrying yourself needlessly."
"I rather think the end of the world as we know it is something to worry about," Hitsugaya grumbled, but he did feel better. Talking to Hyourinmaru usually had that effect. "You're right. Nothing's going to come of it."
"Good." The dragon dipped his head. "Now go back. Your Division is starting to worry."
"What?" Hitsugaya opened his eyes - When had he closed them? - to find several members of his Division grouped around him, staring and muttering. "Can I help you?" he asked sharply, startling several badly. A few hovering at the back of the crowd started to slink away.
"Um," one stuttered, pointing up. Hitsugaya followed his gesture to find a Hell Butterfly fluttering just above him, chiming repeatedly.
"Wonderful," he muttered, raising a hand and pretending that he hadn't been standing in the middle of the courtyard panicking about the end of the world.
To his surprise, Captain-Commander Yamamoto's voice emanated from the Butterfly. "Captain Hitsugaya, report to the First Division." Its message finally delivered, the Butterfly disintegrated.
Hitsugaya took a deep breath, nodded once at the Shinigami still staring at him curiously, turned on his heel, and marched out. As soon as he passed out of sight of his Division, the dragon broke down in laughter. "That was your own fault," Hitsugaya muttered. His only response was a loud snort.
The First Division was just as quiet as usual - not being a militaristic Division, there was a distinct lack of noise from training and chatter - and so it was a rather peaceful walk up to Yamamoto's office. Upon arriving he was immediately let in, and strode across the large room to stand in front of the Captain-Commander's desk.
While the room was not to Hitsugaya's style, he could appreciate why the old man had chosen it. He imagined the large balcony was a good place to sit out on on cool days, and it would be nice to have such a view of the Seireitei available. But other than that, the room was far too large and empty (of books) to really feel personal.
"Captain-Commander," Hitsugaya murmured, bowing. The old man looked up, setting aside the paper he had been working on.
"Captain Hitsugaya," Yamamoto rumbled. "Your report on the situation."
For a split second Hitsugaya wondered which situation the man wanted - the deaths in the east? the missing man? the Forbidden Arts? the dementors? - but then decided just to give an overall report. So he did, describing what had been done so far, what they were about to, and why they wanted to do it. When he was done he fell silent, waiting for the Commander's response.
After a while he started to wonder if the old Shinigami had fallen asleep - it was not an uncommon thing; the Captain-Commander was a very old man, after all - and was trying to decide if it was more polite to wake him up or leave when the man stirred. "This cannot be allowed to continue," he said.
Uh...okay? What was Hitsugaya supposed to say to that? It wasn't as if he or his Division was slacking. He decided for a more diplomatic response. "No, sir."
Yamamoto made a rough sound in the back of his throat. "We cannot allow what was brought back with the Forbidden Arts to continue in its existence," he clarified. "It will disrupt the balance, if it hasn't already."
Hitsugaya refused to revisit his earlier thoughts. He settled for nodding.
"And that is why, after reviewing the case so far, it is clear that this 'Lord Voldemort' must be destroyed, completely."
Hitsugaya was nodding before his mind fully caught up. Then he froze. "His soul as well?"
"Yes. It is far too unstable to support a rebirth." The old man paused, straightening the papers on his desk. "The one who committed the act must also be brought to justice, but Voldemort is our primary target. When the time comes, I want you to do it. It will be good experience for you."
"Yes sir," Hitsugaya said, containing an excited squirm. He'd never completely destroyed a soul before. It was something only Captains could do, and only to souls beyond redemption. This was not done often, clearly, and he'd hoped to see it after the Winter War, but…. Yamamoto would likely have done it to Aizen, however the situation with the Hogyoku had negated that line of action. To have the Captain-Commander allowing him to do this...it was a great honor.
Not for the soul in question, of course, but getting handed this sentence meant that whatever they had done had warranted such an extreme course of action. This decision was not decided upon quickly, or lightly. Likely this had been in discussion ever since the act was committed.
"Good," Yamamoto said. He picked up a folder and held it out to Hitsugaya. "This is the current plan."
Hitsugaya read the report inside, marked with 'Eyes Only' and 'Confidential' watermarks. Clearly this was not a plan meant to be discussed outside of this office. As he read, his mood quickly dropped back down. This was….
'The current plan.' He hoped that meant it would be subject to change.
"When is it to be put into action?" he asked, turning the page to look at a detailed map of the castle grounds. Under that was a blueprint of the Ministry of Magic building, obtained by one of the Second Division members. Under that was a photograph of a young boy in his teens. Hitsugaya recognized him as the Potter boy.
"Not immediately," Yamamoto replied, sitting back in his chair. Hitsugaya got the feeling the old man was studying him closely, his reactions and facial expressions, and the young Captain smoothed out his face to as impartial as he could make it. "It depends a large deal on you, and on how well you feel you can complete it."
Hitsugaya flipped quickly through the last few pages, partially in an attempt to stall, and partially in the hopes that there was a good part to the plan. He could do it, but he would not like it.
Drawing breath to speak, he was interrupted by the Captain-Commander. "Captain Hitsugaya, understand that short of openly going down and capturing Voldemort, this is the next best plan."
'Best plan.' The earlier ones must have been suicidal.
"Also note that, while we highly encourage you to take this, we will not force you to do it. A willing participant is placed above an unwilling one, despite their respective abilities."
Hitsugaya nodded, looking up from the folder to the old man. "I can do it," he said, well aware that he may be sealing his fate. "But this plan requires an exact situation. In the case that does not occur?"
"Then we make it occur," Yamamoto said. "So you will do it?"
Inside his inner world, Hyourinmaru rumbled. Hitsugaya paused to listen to him, then nodded. "I will."
Yamamoto's beard twitched. Hitsugaya couldn't be sure, but he thought the old man's shoulders relaxed a little. "That is good. You are the best candidate for this mission."
"Thank you, sir." Hitsugaya held up the folder. "May I look this over in more detail?"
"You may. It is confidential, aside from certain people in the First, Twelfth, and Second."
"My own Division is far more used to the Wizarding World than the other Divisions," Hitsugaya frowned, not seeing the logic in this. "They would be of use in this."
"The necessary people would be brought in once the plan is in motion." Yamamoto wound several strands of hair back into place in his beard. "Until then there is the risk that they may let something slip while they are in contact with the Wizards. It is simply safer," he added, seeing Hitsugaya tense at the slight to his men. "Unless something unforeseen occurs, if an opportunity arises then we will be relying on your judgement to begin."
"Yes sir." Hitsugaya tucked the folder into the large pockets on the inside of his haori, and bowed. "If that is all?"
"It is."
Hitsugaya turned and walked out of the large office, mind whirling with all of this new information. Inside, Yamamoto set down his ink brush with a sigh and looked out at the Seireitei below.
