Disclaimer: Bleach and Harry Potter are not mine.
ADVANCED WARNING: As of this chapter, the time stream might not be accurate. I need to cram certain events within a certain space of time, so I'll be meddling with the time-event scheme of OotP a bit (or a lot). That's okay, right? Because it's fanfiction . . . And a lot will be happening in one school year, I assure you . . .
Also, any OCs that might be featured and / or mentioned are mostly extremely minor, and will only probably appear a few times for the sake of details. Or die, like, right after (morbid mind~).
Chapter 3: Of Queens, Hats and Locomotives
Toushirou sighed as he leaned back on the wooden bench and looked up at the cloudy sky.
He had been stuck in that mansion for weeks, never leaving except for Hollow cleansing – and that one time to buy several more textbooks from Diagon Alley. Dumbledore had forewarned him that Defence Against the Dark Arts might be – to put it bluntly – useless this year. This was the first time he ever really got the chance to see London without fighting in decades. Potter and his friends were out, and the twins had gone to Diagon Alley – something about advertisements. Black was nice enough to give him directions to the tourist attractions in London, and Flash Stepping to said attractions was much faster than taking public transportation. He had ignored his human clothes in favour of his shihakusho. He was not going to spoil his day by wearing stiff jeans. Humans couldn't see him, so what did it matter? Moody was – for once – not at the house, so he didn't need to have a Disillusionment Charm cast on him. He didn't like the feeling, anyway. It slightly disrupted his sense of balance.
Molly Weasley was adamant about weapons in public. Since she didn't know about humans not being able to see him, he settled on Transfiguring Hyourinmaru into a knife using a very handy spell he learned from Black and slipping him into his pocket. The dragon was far from pleased, but he understood. He wanted to spend some time with his wielder, too.
On the way to his destinations, he encountered Harry Potter. The boy was wandering around an empty side street, looking quite a bit lost. He had been crossing the street when a speeding car rounded a corner and hurtled towards the Boy Who Lived.
Of course, just to make his life harder, the wizard froze.
Acting on instinct, Toushirou used a small Flash Step and tackled him to the side, narrowly avoiding the foolish driver. The idiot had the nerve to honk his horn at them! The light was red, dumbass!
The Shinigami was prepared to leave it at that, but Potter just had to grab his arm and thank him profusely for saving his life. Toushirou waved him off, and said that it was nothing. He quickly ran away, not waiting for a reply.
So here he was, dressed in a shihakusho with his companion in his pocket, sitting in a park in the afternoon, comparing Buckingham Palace to the Kuchiki manor.
Buckingham Palace was bigger than the Kuchiki manor; that much, he established. Both had the same air of nobility and pride, causing all observers to stop and stare for a while. However, while the Palace was grand and ornate, the Kuchiki manor was simple, yet held a sort of subtle elegance to it. The architecture was – obviously – different. Toushirou doubted he'd see shoji doors in the Buckingham Palace.
His eyes wandered over to the doors of the Palace. It was closed. Were there tours? As beautiful as the Palace was, it was boring just staring at it from a distance. He stood up, dusted imaginary dirt from his clothes, and Flash Stepped into the Palace grounds. He passed through the huge double doors and froze, staring in awe at the inside of the Palace.
It was truly a home for the royals. Everything was luxurious and lavish. The drapes and rugs were made from the finest materials, intricate patterns adorning its surfaces. Paintings hung from the walls; most of them probably older than he was. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, the lights reflecting off its surfaces and producing faint rainbows from its surface. The walls themselves bespoke centuries of housing king and queens; princes and princesses; and nobles and servants alike.
He wandered through the halls. He didn't think that he was breaking and entering; after all, he did not break anything to enter the Palace. He liked to think of himself as a tourist. Yes, a tourist.
Toushirou stepped through a wall and almost had a heart attack.
There, sitting on a plush armchair and drinking tea, was the Queen.
He started to back away, almost reaching the walls and preparing to pass through it again. However, before he could do anything else, the Queen looked up and met his eyes.
Wait . . . What?
He stopped, and blinked. The Queen smiled gently and gave a little wave.
. . . What?
Toushirou, not knowing what to do, waved back.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Reaper. May I help you?"
Those two sentences reduced the Captain of the Tenth Division into a gaping dunce.
The Queen laughed when she saw his expression. "It's quite alright, Mr. Reaper. I have always been able to see your kind. The first time I encountered a Soul Reaper was the day one of you sent off a good friend's soul." Her eyes grew sad. "I can't say I wasn't reluctant to let him, but I understood what needed to be done. Now, are you here to perform a – what do you call it? – a Soul Burial?"
Toushirou closed his mouth and regained his composure. Okay. The Queen of England knows about the Shinigami. That's okay. Because she's a Queen, and she knows how to keep secrets. "No," he said in English, "I'm not. I was just here . . . to look around," he finished lamely. Then it hit him that he should probably bow. He was in the presence of a queen. Captain or not, he wasn't royalty – far from it. He bowed low. "I'm very sorry for intruding on your Palace. I will leave immediately – "
"Oh, no," she said hurriedly. "It's fine." She raised the pot of tea. "Would you like to join me, Mr. Reaper?"
He nodded dumbly. He walked forward and sat on one of the armchairs. She poured him a cup of tea, humming as she did so. "As you probably have already guessed, I am the Queen of England."
"I am Hits – Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself. He took a sip of tea, wanting to ask the royal so many questions, but thought it was more polite to let her start the conversation.
"I suppose you are wondering how I knew about Soul Reapers," she murmured. "Well, as I said, I have always been able to see spirits. When my friend died, her soul was sent off by a white-haired Soul Reaper by the name of Jyuushirou Ukitake."
He choked on his tea. "U-Ukitake?"
"Yes." Her eyes twinkled. "You know him?"
He nodded. "He is . . . an acquaintance of mine."
"He was kind enough to explain the situation to me," she continued. "He explained what he did to her soul, and what the monsters and ghosts I saw as a child were." She paused and looked at him up and down. "You have his hair. Are you related to him?"
Toushirou shook his head. "No."
"Oh. He was a nice man. How is he? He mentioned he had some kind of sickness . . ."
"He's holding up well. Our healers make sure of that."
"That's good."
They made small talk. The Queen, he found out, was a nice woman. She reminisced about the past, telling him of some of the interesting ghosts she conversed with and some incidents in the past concerning Hollows. She wasn't hurt by them, since a Shinigami always came by to cleanse them. In return, he spoke of some of the places he had been while on missions to the Living World. She was particularly fascinated by some of the conversations he had with British soldiers during the World War II.
Eventually, the tea ran out and the sun dropped behind the horizon. The Queen bid him goodbye on the stairs of the Palace and watched as he Flash Stepped away.
What an interesting child, she mused.
Toushirou leisurely made his way back to number twelve Grimmauld Place, pondering about his meeting with the Queen.
I met the Queen. And she was nice.
He shook his head and told himself to think about it when he got back. He was only three blocks away from Black's house, and he wanted to savour the twilight sky for as long as possible. He breathed deeply, the aroma of freshly baked cupcakes wafting from the bakery from a brightly lit house across the street.
Click!
His eyes snapped to the side and saw a dog-sized Hollow scuttling toward him, its pincers clicking back and forth. He Flash Stepped into the grassy area and blocked its way. He held out a hand and twin flames of blue shot from the palm, incinerating the Hollow in an instant.
He squared his shoulders and smiled to himself. That wasn't so bad.
"Blimey! What the hell was that?!"
He spoke too soon.
Toushirou looked over his shoulder and saw a black-haired boy standing slack-jawed on the pavement. His glasses slid down his nose a little, giving him a better view of the green eyes behind the clear surface. The Captain squinted and made out the small lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.
Shit.
Harry Potter broke from his place and ran at him, stopping just three feet away.
"Yes?" Toushirou asked warily.
"What was that – that thing?!"
"It was a Transfiguration attempt gone wrong," he lied evenly. "It used to be a cockroach. I was trying to Transfigure it into a dog."
"Transfigure . . . You're a wizard?" Potter blinked, and looked at him closely. "You're the bloke who saved me!"
"Yes," Toushirou agreed. "And you're Harry Potter. I've read about you." Not a lie . . . Well, he's seen me already. Might as well get close to him. He might be a useful ally. He is rather good at Defence Against the Dark Arts . . .
"Yeah," Potter said, shoulders sagging. When Toushirou didn't say anything other than that, he brightened. "So, thanks again for saving me, um . . ."
"Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself.
"Tou – Toushirou. That sounds Chinese."
"Japanese," he corrected. "I'm from Japan."
"Right." Then he gasped. "You – you just performed underage magic! A-and how old are you, anyway?"
"I'm ten," he muttered with just the slightest hint of loathing (Potter probably didn't notice it). "Turning eleven in December. I'm Muggle-born, and I don't have my wand with me right now, so I think I'm exempt from the law. If not, I can just pass it off as a freak accident – both of them."
"Oh. . ." Potter stared at him, looking a little impressed. "For a Muggle-born, you sure know a lot about wizard laws . . ." When he saw the (fake) insulted expression on Toushirou's face ("So I have to be stupid and ignorant because I'm a Muggle?"), he swiftly changed the subject. "So are you going to Hogwarts?"
"Yes."
"But aren't there magic schools in Japan too? What was that one called . . . Mahoutokoro?"
"I know," Toushirou replied, not knowing that at all. Damn, think of a lie, THINK OF A LIE! "My . . . parents died recently, so I moved to England . . . where my next closest kin is." He made sure to lower his eyes as he explained his situation. That should keep him from prying . . .
Potter winced. "I-I'm sorry . . ."
An awkward silence ensued.
Toushirou cleared his throat. "It's getting dark; I need to go home now. It was nice meeting you, Harry Potter."
"Nice meeting you, too . . ."
Toushirou climbed through the window and carefully closed it shut.
He knew he would have to speak to Black, Lupin, and definitely Dumbledore later on; Potter would not keep those two incidents to himself. Why was he alone outside, anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be with Weasley and Granger?
He took Hyourinmaru from his pocket and turned him back into a sword; he heard the dragon hum contentedly. He pulled his trunk from under the bed and returned him to his hiding place. He threw on his pyjamas and had just pushed his trunk back under the bed before Black burst into the room with unreadable expressions on their faces.
"Hi," Toushirou greeted lazily. "I assume Potter had told you what happened?"
Black looked at him for a moment before he grinned. "Harry told us about a white-haired kid doing magic in public and saving his life. Luckily, it was only me and the children listening. Molly was cooking, and Arthur's working overtime. So, in return for saving my godson's life, we won't breathe a word about this to Dumbledore."
He stared at Black incredulously. "Dumbledore's your boss. I had just revealed my existence to Harry Potter – which I was not supposed to do. Isn't that kind of important?"
Black waved a hand. "It's actually not that important. As long as Harry doesn't know that you're from another society, and that you have ties to the Order, it's safe. I doubt Dumbledore would make a big deal out of it." He produced a set of Wizard's Chess from nowhere and sat on the bed, readying the pieces. "Now, a game of chess?"
Toushirou gazed at him for a moment before saying, "Sure."
The Captain glared at the brick wall in front of him. "No."
"You have to," Tonks insisted.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No," she said, exasperated. "You really do have to walk into the wall. It's Platform 9 ¾ ! Look." She pointed at a woman and a black-haired girl pushing a similar trolley to his. She waved at the woman goodbye, faced the pillar, and casually passed through the wall, like it was just a hologram.
"See?" Tonks bragged. "I'm right."
". . . It's a brick wall . . . I can see people bumping into it . . . Why do wizards always have make everything complicated?" he grumbled. He pushed his trolley in front of him (and vaguely wondered what the humans were seeing now; a trolley moving on its own?) and positioned it in front of the pillar. He pushed the logical part of his brain saying, "You're running into a wall!" into the back of his mind and ran in, closing his eyes and expecting him to smack into a hard surface any moment. Matsumoto's going to laugh at me if she ever hears of this . . .
Surprisingly, the expected smack never came. He opened his eyes and saw a train platform filled with bustling students carrying cats, toads, and owls. Parents were bidding their children goodbye, some with tears on their faces. The littlest ones were jumping up and down in excitement, their wands gripped firmly in their hands. Obviously, they couldn't wait to start school. The older ones were more composed, but they still had smiles plastered on their faces.
The scarlet train was idling on the track. Several students were already filing in, and he could see several more chatting with each other through the windows. The train itself was radiating a strange aura; it felt somewhat like Black's house, but stronger.
Magic, he reflected. Layers of it, and powerful, too. So Hogwarts: A History wasn't lying when it said Hogwarts Express took a lot of magic to acquire. He took care to commit the feeling to memory.
"Yeah, it's a lot to take in at first," Tonks said from behind him. Then, she pushed him forward none too gently. "Go on! The compartments fill up rather quickly; it's best if you get one for yourself early. Don't wanna end up with Slytherins or anything."
He sighed, but complied. He weaved through the maze of students and stepped over wayward pets running from their owners. He reached the train and headed straight for the compartments near the back. He opened an empty compartment door and set his trunk on the provided slots. That done, he sat, crossed his arms, and put his head on his arms.
Now that he actually had time to process what was going on, it hit him. The excitement at going to Hogwarts (albeit as a first year, but he could always ignore that). He was secretly giddy at the thought of having access at one of the most extensive magical libraries in Europe. Apparently, it covered topics from the simplest of Charms, to the most dangerous and forbidden Curses. Centuries of magical history going back hundreds of years were slotted neatly in organized shelves. Even useless topics such as the invention of jars were accounted for. His one year limit was definitely not enough if he wanted to skim through every book in the library.
"May I come in?"
He raised his head and nodded at the girl peeking through the door. She smiled, and sat in the seat across from him. "Luna Lovegood, fourth year."
"Toushirou Hitsugaya, first year." The girl before him was . . . eccentric. She had long dirty blonde hair, pale eyebrows, and protuberant grey eyes. She had a wand stuck behind her left ear and a necklace of bottle caps around her neck. In her hand was a battered magazine called The Quibbler, which had a badly drawn cartoon of a man wearing a green bowler hat on the cover. He caught Sirius Black's name listed on the page before his attention was stolen by Lovegood's voice.
"You are a Japanese foreigner," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You also have white hair."
"Yes, I am and I do," he agreed.
"You know, Blibbering Humdingers can be quite vicious to those who have interesting eyes." She opened her magazine and turned it over. "Yours is an interesting shade of green."
". . . Thank you?" He had no idea what a Blibbering Humdinger was, but he had a feeling Lovegood was quite serious about it. And . . . why was she reading that upside down?
The sound of rustling papers filled the compartment for a few seconds. She stopped at a certain article and, after reading for a while, said, "Wow, I never knew Sirius Black was actually Stubby Boardman."
That caught his interest. "Really?"
She nodded. "Doris Purkiss made a good point."
"May I read that?"
She looked unusually happy at his request. He skimmed the article, finding it interesting (and just a little bit laughable). He quickly flipped through the pages, glancing at each of the article headings and moving pictures before eventually concluding that The Quibbler was a very strange magazine. Was this what all wizard publications were like?
"How was it?" she asked when he handed it back.
"It was very interesting," he said truthfully. She beamed.
They both heard voices outside the door. It slid open, revealing a redheaded girl that must've been a Weasley – Ginevra Weasley. "Hey, Luna, is it okay if we take these seats?"
Lovegood nodded.
Weasley was followed by a nervous-looking boy and . . .
Harry Potter.
Toushirou sighed internally.
They took their seats, and it was a moment before Potter recognized the Shinigami. "It's you!"
"It's me," Toushirou said dryly.
"Um, Toushirou Hitsugaya, right?"
"Yes."
"You're the one who saved Harry from the car?" Weasley leaned in.
"Yes," he replied, getting a bit annoyed now.
"And the one who had a Transfiguration accident?"
"Yes."
"Oh." She pulled back, sensing that he wasn't in the mood for talking, and the three new arrivals started making small talk with Lovegood. "So, Luna, had a good summer?"
Toushirou buried his face in his arms again after he found out that the other boy's name was Neville Longbottom (what an unfortunate name). He made it clear that he wasn't interested in idle chatter.
"It's got an amazing defence mechanism. Here, hold Trevor for me . . ."
The Captain was in a state between consciousness and sleep, so he was slow to react when the cactus Longbottom had brought spewed slimy liquid all over the compartment. Luckily, his small build and the fact that he had his head down at the time prevented him from taking the full blast of the substance. Several drops clung to tips of his white spikes, as well as the back of his head.
Toushirou lifted his head slowly, his nose crinkling at the smell. Lovegood was safely behind her magazine, and Weasley had thrown her arms up just in time. Potter and Longbottom weren't so lucky. They both got a face full of slime. Yuck.
He sighed once more. Everything was fine before these three came in . . . He took out his wand and muttered, "Scourgify." The slime on the compartment vanished. He really had to thank Black for teaching him that spell. Longbottom stuttered, saying something about having not seen that before. Toushirou sent him a dirty glare before leaning his head on the wall and deciding that no, he will not get peace during the train ride. At least I got to test that spell . . . It'll be crucial for when I return to the Division. He pushed away all thoughts concerning Matsumoto and the Division. Don't stress yourself about her yet . . . Save that for the end of the school year . . .
The door slid open, and an Asian girl with straight black hair peered through the opening. She asked for Harry Potter, who happily stood up and exited the compartment. One less kid to worry about.
He snorted. With my luck, more will take his place.
How right he was.
An hour and many pumpkin pasties and Chocolate Frogs later, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger turned up, asking for Potter. Ginevra Weasley (two Weasleys in a room, he thought. How am I supposed to address them?) told them in a slightly jealous tone of voice that Potter had left with Cho Chang a while ago.
"Whatever," Ronald Weasley said, slumping into the seat beside Toushirou. "I'm starving." He stole a Chocolate Frog from Ginevra Weasley, ignoring her protests. "Relax, it's only one." He pointed at Toushirou's leaning figure. "Who's the bloke?"
"Ron," Granger chided, "don't be rude!" She looked over at the first year feigning sleep. "I'm Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect. Are you a first year?"
"Yes," Toushirou mumbled, opening his eyelids. Remember English manners . . . the proper way to address an elder person is to add the prefix 'Miss ' or 'Mister,' I believe. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Granger." I can't believe I just said that; I'm two centuries older, dammit! "I'm Toushirou Hitsugaya, first year."
Granger laughed, a little red in the face. "Call me Hermione . . . Your name sounds Japanese . . . Wait." She sat up, her eyes fixed on his hair. "You're that boy who saved Harry!"
He sighed. "It's no big deal . . ."
Ronald Weasley slapped him on the back. "You saved the life of the Boy Who Lived! How can that be 'no big deal?'"
"From what I heard, his life kept getting saved every year," he muttered to himself.
"So, Toushirou, you're from Japan?" Granger asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"Why're you going to Hogwarts then?" Ronald Weasley questioned. "I'm pretty sure there's – " He cut himself off. Granger was shaking her head furiously, glaring at him. "What are you – oh, oh!" He turned back to Toushirou. "Um, so, how's the weather?"
The Shinigami fought back a smile. "The weather's great."
"Yeah . . . Say, is your hair natural?"
Thankfully, Ronald Weasley was (unknowingly) saved from a frozen death by the timely arrival of one Harry Potter. He smiled at all the people in the compartment and slid into the seat beside Ginevra Weasley. He took the last Chocolate Frog on the table and said to Granger, "I saw Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy terrorizing some Hufflepuff second years. Any idea what that's about?"
Granger snorted. "Abuse of power. They're the Slytherin prefects."
"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott are for Hufflepuff; and Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," Ronald Weasley said.
The rest of the train ride was spent in friendly chatter. The occupants of the compartment asked (interrogated) Toushirou on his life, with him managing to answer in half-truths or not at all. They really were a nosy bunch. Potter, Granger and the two Weasleys avoided questions about his parents, while Luna kept peppering him bizarre comments such as, "Have you ever seen a Moon Frog?" and "Beware of Nargles; I smell a little mistletoe on you." The four others were stifling their giggles when she did so. At one point, they took turns insulting Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Draco Malfoy after the three Slytherins invaded their compartments and disrupted the sociable atmosphere.
When Toushirou first laid eyes on Draco Malfoy, the first thought he had was: snobbish noble. He had met his share of nobles during his time as a Captain, and about half of them gave off the exact air Malfoy had. He never liked those kinds of nobles. Being from Rukongai, they looked down on him, deeming his blood too dirty to hold his prestigious position. He much preferred those like Ukitake and Kyouraku, who didn't flaunt their statuses every chance they got.
"What're you doing here?" Potter had said, hostility lacing his voice.
"Manners, or I'll have to give you a detention," the blond boy drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."
"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."
They all snickered. Nice comeback.
Malfoy noticed him. "Tell me, Potter, have you stooped so low as to hang out with white-haired first year midgets now? Not that it makes much difference, seeing as Loony Lovegood is apparently infesting your compartment."
Toushirou scowled and glared at the Slytherin dangerously. The temperature dropped ("Damn Freezing Charms," Ronald Weasley muttered).
Shall I freeze him? Hyourinmaru rumbled in his mind, uncoiling himself from his deep sleep.
. . . No, not yet.
"Freaks," Malfoy enunciated, "all of you."
"Bugger off," Ronald Weasley growled. "No one wants you here – or anywhere, for that matter."
He turned his nose up at the Weasley. "I don't take orders from animals."
Grr . . .
Toushirou sent a beam of cold, concentrated spiritual pressure at the stuck-up wizard. With a high-pitched yelp, he flew back, hurtling into his bodyguards and crashing into the opposite wall – hard. The three of them were covered in frost and bits of ice, attracting onlookers from passengers who happened to be walking through the corridors. Three Gryffindor students – two of them identical – snuck a look from their compartment and sniggered audibly when they saw the three mini snowmen. One of the identical boys produced a camera and snapped a shot of the Slytherins. After that, they high-fived each other and went back to their seats.
Malfoy, red-faced (not that anyone could see it), pushed away from the two goons and snarled at Potter, "Watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line." He stalked away, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to haul themselves up and lumber away from their view.
Granger quickly closed the door and hunched back into her seat. She glared half-heartedly at her companions (yet everyone could see the spark of mirth in her eyes). "Who did that?"
Ronald Weasley cackled. "Not me, but I'll be willing to take credit for it."
"Ron!"
The Hogwarts Express grounded to a halt.
It was dark, and the Scottish autumn air bit his cheeks as he shuffled along with the younger students, heading for the female voice shouting, "First years line up over here, please! All first years come to me!"
The woman – whose name was Professor Grubbly-Plank, he later found out – escorted the crowd of students to the lake, where a fleet of small boats bobbed up and down with the waves. Toushirou boarded one with a few edgy boys, all of whom were nervously gawking at the lake.
"I heard there's a giant squid in there . . ."
"My brother told me it once ate a first year . . ."
"My cousin said it was the size of Hogwarts itself!"
Toushirou touched the surface of the murky water. He jerked back when he felt something slimy caress his fingers. He leaned over the boat and saw a pair of glowing yellow orbs looking back at him. It grinned, flashing a set of broken teeth before swimming away.
Finally, they docked at Hogwarts. The professor waited until they all got off the boats before leading them into a small room where they were instructed to await the Sorting. Toushirou stood in the corner, away from the other first years. He seethed when he noticed that all of them were taller than him. Damn Europeans, they're too tall for their own good.
Hyourinmaru let out a chuckle. You'll grow.
When?
In a few centuries.
I hate you.
I love you, too.
A pink mouse scurried up to the wall beside him and, amazingly, scampered up the smooth stone barriers. He gaped as it reached the ceiling and continued running away from what looked like a yellow spider with a tail.
"Excuse me," a girl in pigtails panted, stopping in front of him, "have you seen a pink mouse?"
He pointed at the ceiling. She looked up and released an impressive squeak. "I . . . I didn't know she could do that . . ."
He was distracted by the sound of Minerva McGonagall's footsteps, who then proceeded to lead them into the Great Hall. He followed the students' lead and stared in wonder at when they entered the Great Hall. Four long tables took up the majority of the room; all of them were already populated by older students. Another table was situated at the front, accommodating the professors of Hogwarts. Toushirou recognized a few of them. Dumbledore was smiling kindly at all of his students. Snape was sitting at his seat, looking on with impassive black eyes.
Toushirou and the first years lined up in front of the staff table. McGonagall placed a battered-looking hat on top of a stool and stepped back, staring at it intently with the rest of the students and professors.
Everyone was quiet.
Except for the hat.
Which started singing.
In times of old, when I was new,
And Hogwarts barely started,
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted.
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
"Together we will build and teach"
The four good friends decided.
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided.
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,
So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there, so I can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.
Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry's purest."
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest."
Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name."
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot
And treat them just the same."
These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light.
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning just like him.
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest
and taught them all she knew,
Thus, the houses and their founders
Maintained friendships firm and true.
So Hogwarts worked in harmony
for several happy years,
but then discord crept among us
feeding on our faults and fears.
The Houses that, like pillars four
had once held up our school
now turned upon each other and
divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
must meet an early end.
what with dueling and with fighting
and the clash of friend on friend.
And at last there came a morning
when old Slytherin departed
and though the fighting then died out
he left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
were whittled down to three
have the Houses been united
as they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
and you all know the score:
I sort you into Houses
because that is what I'm for.
But this year I'll go further,
listen closely to my song:
though condemned I am to split you
still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfill my duty
and must quarter every year
still I wonder whether sorting
may not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
for our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you . . .
let the Sorting now begin.
. . . What the hell?
The Great Hall applauded. Toushirou automatically joined in, still processing that that hat had just sung a song. He noticed several of the students looking at each other uncertainly and whispering to themselves. He replayed the song in his mind, not noticing when McGonagall called out the first name on her parchment.
"Abercrombie, Euan."
Those last few stanzas sounded like a warning, he thought. The Hat didn't sound like he agreed to separate the students into the four Houses. I've heard of the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin; if the Hat wants them to unite, then we're all doomed . . . But what are these 'external, deadly foes?'
"Hitsugaya, Toushirou."
The Captain shook himself from his thoughts and approached the Hat. Matsumoto would love to have one of these, he reflected. Speaking of which, I hope she hasn't burned down my office . . . He put the Hat on his head, feeling silly as he did so. I have a big singing hat on my head. How is that not ridiculous?
As soon as the Hat touched his head, he felt an otherworldly presence probe his mind. Instinctively, he expelled it from his consciousness and assembled barriers around his inner world. Hyourinmaru roused himself from a nap and said, What was that?
I don't know.
"Do not worry, young one," said a mysterious voice. "It's just me."
Who are you?
"I am the Sorting Hat," it explained patiently. "I don't know how you were able to banish me from your thoughts, but I do need to sift through your memories to Sort you into a House."
I can't allow you to do that, Toushirou replied.
"Don't worry," the Hat chuckled, "whatever secrets you have are safe with me. I am not allowed to talk about what I see."
. . . What do you think, Hyourinmaru?
I sense he is telling the truth, said the dragon.
. . . Alright, he relented. Be careful, Hat. What you see is for your, um, eyes only.
"I'll keep that in mind," it said amusedly. The Hat dove into the opening the Shinigami had allowed and started going through his two hundred years' worth of memories. Toushirou could feel it studying his time as a Shinigami, as well as a student in the Academy, and the childhood he had. He cringed when it examined what little memory he had left of how he died. Finally, after what seemed like a millennium (but actually ten minutes), the Hat pulled back and remained silent for a moment. "Well, that was certainly an interesting experience."
Toushirou said nothing.
"A Soul Reaper," it continued, "I have never had the honour of sorting a Soul Reaper – never mind a Captain. You have led quite an eventful life, Captain. I saw all four traits of the Houses within you: courage and bravery most suitable for Gryffindor; ambition and cunningness that point to Slytherin; wit and intelligence worthy of Ravenclaw; and hard work and loyalty befitting of Hufflepuff. Tell me, do you have any preference?"
No.
"Very well . . . You are very proud of your intelligence, hm? Your thirst for knowledge was what led you to become what you are now. Therefore, I shall Sort you into the House of RAVENCLAW!" it shouted out the last word.
Toushirou took off the Hat as the Ravenclaw table burst into cheers. The other tables were looking at each other, asking themselves why the weird white-haired boy took so long, but he ignored it. He took a seat beside Luna Lovegood, who was smiling and waving at him.
"Hello, Toushirou. I'm so glad you got sorted into Ravenclaw," she said sincerely. "It is a nice House, isn't it? Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
He agreed, and then sat back to watch the rest of the Sorting.
"Zeller, Rose."
"Hufflepuff!"
Once the last student had been Sorted, Dumbledore stood up and proclaimed, "To our newcomers – welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
The students cheered and commenced piling heaps of food onto their plates. Toushirou was disappointed to see no Japanese dishes, so he settled for mashed potatoes and some steamed vegetables.
Someone tapped him in the shoulder. "Excuse me," a brown-haired boy said, "you're a first year, right?"
He nodded.
"Oh, good," he said, relieved. "I'm Ethan Harris."
Toushirou spent the entire evening eating and making small talk with Luna Lovegood and Ethan Harris. Harris's reactions to Lovegood's strange claims were enough to make him laugh (on the inside). Dessert rolled in, and he feasted on loads and loads of watermelons. He didn't care about the looks he received from other students, he hadn't eaten the fruit in months and damn them if they think that could stop him.
"Hello there. Welcome to Hogwarts," said a female voice.
Toushirou turned and blinked. There was a tall, beautiful woman with long black hair wearing a floor-length cloak behind him. She appeared to be a noble, but held herself in a tranquil manner.
And she was see-through.
So, she was one of the ghosts Hogwarts: A History talked about.
He remembered what Yamamoto had told him: "Please leave the ghosts alone."
"I am the Grey Lady," she said. "The Ghost of Ravenclaw House." She fixed her suddenly narrowed eyes on Toushirou.
"I'm Toushirou Hitsugaya," he introduced himself.
"I'm Ethan Harris."
"Nice to meet you two. Make Rowena Ravenclaw proud . . ." Her attention was caught by two fifth years arguing with a Slytherin sixth year. She drifted away.
Toushirou went back to his watermelons.
He was smiling contentedly to himself by the time Dumbledore's speeches came about. He listened with the others as the Headmaster droned on about the Forbidden Forest, Filch's list, and the staff changes.
"Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the – "
"Hem, hem."
Dumbledore broke off and looked enquiringly at the new Professor, Dolores Umbridge. After a brief staring contest, he sat down and let Umbridge speak.
The toad-like woman smiled sickeningly and said, "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."
Toushirou winced as soon as the first word came out of the Professor's mouth. It was high-pitched and girly and he wanted to rip out her throat by the time the second word came around. For the first time, Toushirou forced himself to truly scrutinize the abomination before him. Dolores Umbridge was short, with mousy brown hair and bulging eyes. She wore an all-pink outfit – complete with a hideous fuzzy pink cardigan that would have killed Matsumoto and Yumichika Ayasegawa if they ever laid eyes on it. Gaudy rings decorated her stubby fingers, creating the impression of a frog's round fingertips.
God, he regretted looking at her. And I looked like a freak?
Umbridge continued her speech (or whatever it was), "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"
The rest of her speech consisted of pointless words that really just amounted to, "The Ministry of Magic is prying into Hogwarts business, so just sit back and watch as I destroy your education and make sure you will all never be prepared to defend against any evils that might lurk outside the school grounds!"
". . . Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
Dumbledore clapped, and the rest of the staff reluctantly followed his lead. The students shook themselves out of their daze, but before they could clap, Dumbledore stood up and said, "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating." He bowed to her, which made Toushirou roll his eyes. Really, there's no need to bow to that frog. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."
Toushirou listened to the rest of Dumbledore's speech much more intently than he had with Umbridge's. After Dumbledore had dismissed them, Toushirou followed the Ravenclaw prefects – Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil – upstairs to the Ravenclaw Tower.
"To get inside," Patil explained, "you need to answer the riddle." She turned to the eagle knocker.
It said:
Lighter than what I am made of
More of me is hidden than seen
I am the bane of the mariner
A tooth within the sea
Speak my name.
The Ravenclaws muttered to themselves. Toushirou thought it over and smiled to himself.
"Anyone?" asked Goldstein.
"Ice," he whispered to himself, just as another boy shouted out the same answer.
The door swung open.
Toushirou looked around the airy common room as he stepped in. It was wide and circular. Blue and bronze silk drapes hung over the arched windows lining the walls. The domed, starry ceiling looked down on the dark blue carpet. Tables and armchairs furnished the room, ready to be used along with the huge bookcases pushed to the side. A white marble statue stood by the door leading up to the dormitories. Overall, it was cool and spacious, like a library.
Which reminded him to visit the school library soon.
"Boys, follow me to your dormitories," Goldstein called. Patil did the same with the girls.
The prefect led them up the stairs and into the room they will all be sharing. Inside, there were simple beds lined up against the walls. Windows let in some light from the moon, and the drapes billowed out in the gentle breeze.
Their trunks were already situated in the foot of their beds. Goldstein told them to find their beds and bid them goodnight.
Toushirou found his bed beside one of the open windows. It was comfortably cool, and was the perfect place for any Shinigami to sneak in and deliver him messages from the Captain-Commander. He immediately changed to his pyjamas and reached for his trunk. He picked up Defensive Magical Theory, snorted, and then shoved it in the bottom. No way in hell am I going to read that. Luckily, he prepared for that. He reached for The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection and opened to the first chapter.
The other Ravenclaws had also pulled out their own books and were reading in their beds. The dormitory was silent, except for the rustle of papers and the soft breathing of children.
He had finished reading about the Curse of Bogies (useless), Green Sparks (even more useless; it will just catch the enemies' attentions), and the Knockback Jinx (not as useless, but still pretty futile when facing a Dark Wizard) by the time it was lights out.
When the room's lights were snuffed out, he sunk deep into his comforter and sneaked a few pieces of parchment and a quill under the covers. He closed his eyes and waited a couple of hours before pulling his wand under his pillow. He poured a miniscule amount of his spiritual pressure into his wand and whispered, "Lumos." A weak light lit the tip of his wand, and he cupped his hand around it, making sure none of the brightness escaped his comforter. He set it down and started writing a report.
It was past midnight by the time he finished filling out the parchments. He had to write about his time in the wizarding world – all two months of it. He now regretted putting it off until tonight. And I thought I got rid of my procrastination habits. He sighed. Being in a school environment just seemed to bring everything back. He pulled back the covers and stuffed the papers into a large envelope. He addressed it to Yamamoto and signed his own name and rank underneath, making sure to write it in kanji.
Toushirou left the envelope on floor beside his bed and went to sleep, knowing that someone of the Onmitsukidou will arrive and deliver it to Yamamoto.
EXTRA DISCLAIMER: Any riddles mentioned from this moment on are not mine.
Thank you all for waiting! I originally planned to cut it off right before the Sorting Hat shouted out Toushirou's House (like, cut it off when the Hat says, "Very well . . ."), but I thought you guys deserved a longer-than-usual chapter for being so patient.
Shout-outs to 3Alaska3 and SimplyFalling211 for motivating me to write this chapter. If it weren't for them, you all would probably still be waiting for another month.
For the Queen scene (rhyme~), there is a reason I put that there. I took care to avoid any real names; that would be against the rules (no non-ficitional characters!).
BETA POSITION IS OPEN. I can't use Beta search because I want someone who actually reads HPxBleach crossovers (and I'm not sure if that can be found in Beta profiles), who has a good grasp of the English language, and someone who enjoys this story and is ready for a long ride because there will be a sequel. Oh, and someone who is not afraid to criticize, point out mistakes, and make suggestions. I'm fine editing this on my own, but sometimes I miss a spelling error here and there, and sometimes I get writer's block.
Yeah, I'm picky . . .
Another long author's note :P Thanks for bearing with me.
LAST THING - PLEASE ANSWER THIS QUESTION IN YOUR REVIEW:
Which letter do you like better: X or Z?