Hi everyone, so this is the second chapter up, and the reviews and comments I've been getting are awesome (does anybody else love that word, or is it just me?) so thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I know the story might seem a bit slow at the moment but that's because it's kind of like introducing people and establishing settings and all that stuff you know?
Chapter 2
He could smell disinfectant. The area had the whole sterile hospital smell that burned his nostrils. It surrounded and encompassed him, heavy blankets pressing him down, trying to suffocate him. Something stiff and itchy clung to him like a second skin and it felt very uncomfortable. But he recognised the feel of it; they were bandages, and from the feel of it there were a lot covering him. He tried to raise a hand but he couldn't. It was as though he was there but not really there. He felt the throbbing of painful injuries, but they were dull and distant somehow, like he was feeling it through somebody else. Muffled sounds could be heard around him – the soft beep! Beep! Beep! Of a heart monitor, feet shuffling around pushing things, picking up things. But they sounded as if they were passing through water to reach his ears. He didn't understand it. He knew that he must be in a medical facility of some sort – possibly Squad 4? – but the main question on his tongue was what happened? Had he been attacked by some sort of hollow, probably an arrancar or espada?
He quieted his thoughts and listened to surroundings again, trying to hear a familiar sound so he could place himself and hopefully what happened. He heard muffled voices speaking in low tones, but he didn't understand them, nor did they seem even remotely familiar. He had doubts that they were even speaking in Japanese, though it was hard to distinguish between the sounds they made and the other sounds in the room which seemed to have increased in volume. The more he concentrated on the conversation the louder everything became, until it was thunderous. The soft beep of the monitor now sounded like clashes of thunder and the shuffling feet scraped along the floor loudly. It kept getting louder and louder and he could feel the injuries becoming more and more painful. Knives were shoved repeatedly through his skull and his skin was alight in fire. It kept getting worse and worse. He couldn't concentrate on anything, he didn't even know who he was it was that intense. Pain and noise crashed down on him like waves on a beach, drenching him. The beeping sped up and the voices seemed somehow more urgent then they had previously. And then suddenly it stopped and he forced his heavy eyelids to open, almost to be shut again by the blinding white light around him. And it was then he remembered. He remembered everything. He wasn't in Squad 4, that was impossible because there was no more Squad 4. So if that was the case, where on Earth was he?
Hitsugaya groaned as memories pulled him down, but he forced himself to resurface and again looked around without moving his extremely stiff neck. He was definitely in some kind of hospital room, similar to the ones in the living world, but how did he get here. A face intruded in on his vision at that moment, peering intensely at him. She said something that he didn't understand, but there was one word he did, 'Dumbledore'. Realisation hit him as he remembered the alley way and his brief encounter with some grubby looking man holding a tee-towel. That man must have called Dumbledore and then must have brought him hear. That would mean that he would need to fabricate a story a lot sooner than expected and under the influence of some sort of drug. He could taste residue of the drug still at the back of his throat, but the taste wasn't familiar. That must have been what made him feel disjointed and unconnected with his body. Another face came into view and thankfully it was one he did recognise, only that it was slightly younger than the one that he was used to. It was Dumbledore and he looked quite concerned. Then it hit him that they were speaking in English, which means he was in England. Thankfully he got the location right; hopefully the year was right too.
Since they were speaking in English all Hitsugaya had to do was concentrate slightly and he would understand as he was quite fluent in the language.
"He's awake, but he doesn't seem to understand us. I've asked him the same question – How are you feeling? – five times now and he hasn't answered. How do you even know he even knows English?" The stern looking woman was speaking. She looked like she hadn't been outside for a long time because her skin was really pale. People who say I'm pale obviously have never met this woman, Hitsugaya thought wryly. Dumbledore and the person Hitsugaya could only assume was a doctor continued to talk about his wellbeing, but strangely enough he felt fine. Not two minutes ago he felt agonising pain, but it was as though it had simply washed away, leaving him slightly exhausted and drained but overall fine. He opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was a groan; his throat too dry and thirsty to manipulate the words he wanted to say. As though sensing this Dumbledore left his field of vision and came back shortly with a plastic cup filled with the cold liquid. He held it up to Hitsugaya's lips for him and he drank the whole cup. It had been ages since he had been able to drink water that tasted so clean and it was heavenly. He had forgotten the simple pleasures which these people took so much for granted, like the water was actually cold and not lukewarm or hot. Dumbledore removed the cup and he and the doctor looked at him expectantly. Once again he opened his mouth and this time he felt the strength to be able to talk fill him. His words were a bit clumsy and awkward in his mouth as he had not spoken many words in months, and he had not spoken English for even longer.
"How did I get here?" The two adults seemed surprised that he had spoken in their own language as they had been sure that he was foreign with no grasp of their words. It was the doctor who spoke first.
"My name is Dr. Winfield and you are presently in a hospital room. This man brought you here from where he found you; you were quite hurt, how did you acquire your injuries?" Hitsugaya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The description of his location had both been obvious and vague, but that didn't matter because he had a feeling that he was in St. Mungo's hospital. Why they had brought him here and not to a normal muggle hospital he did not know.
"I fell down the stairs," he said. He knew it was the lamest and most unbelievable excuse in the world but it was the best he could come up with in two seconds. The two opposite looked at him incredulously.
"You... fell down the... stairs?" Dr. Winfield seemed to say each word as though weighing their value. She looked at Dumbledore who motioned with his hands. Hitsugaya couldn't see what he did but a second later the doctor was leaving the room so he assumed Dumbledore was asking for some privacy. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed.
"Now, we both know that you can't get that hurt from falling down stairs. You had broken bones all over the place – your arms, foot, ribs and even the base of your spinal cord was broken."
"They were pretty big stairs..." He trailed off as penetrating blue eyes looked at him, demanding the truth.
"It doesn't matter what happened to me, but I did need to speak to you sir."
"I know." The simple admission caught Hitsugaya off guard. How had he known?
"I see confusion on your face. No I am not some sort of mind reader. One of my friends found you in an alley and you said my name. That is why I am here and not my friend. This is a special hospital for special people." So he had been right, he was in St. Mungo's. "And I thought this place would cater more for your needs. But enough about that. You may speak to me if you wish, but first what is your name?" Hitsugaya hadn't realised that he hadn't even introduced himself yet.
"Hitsugaya Toushirou. I come from a magic school in Japan and I would like to become a foreign exchange student at Hogwarts." Dumbledore looked at him. He was impressed because the teen didn't beat around the bush, but slightly unnerved by what he wanted. Foreign exchange students usually had to go through a long and tedious process where a lot of paper work was involved. But this boy wanted to just walk right in. Dumbledore hadn't even known that there was a school in Japan.
"Oh, well, what school do you come from Mr Hitsugaya?"
He thought for a minute, trying to think of a completely plausible story and a believable fabrication of a school.
"Well it's special... I'm not really meant to talk about it but since I want to attend your school I guess I have to trust you. It's not like any other magic school and you probably haven't heard of it before – that's the aim – but it deals with... sword fighting mixed with magic. It teaches the same sort of syllabus but it prepares us for work in the... Special Forces and covert ops, because the government has deemed that anybody with magical abilities must work for them and there is no escaping it unless... you move to another country. That's why I'm here because I don't want to be part of the government system. The school I went to was called... Seireiti School of Magical Fighting." Hitsugaya took a breath and was quite proud of himself. He had thought of that story in under two seconds, making it up as he went along. He just hoped that Dumbledore didn't think that the idea was too lame or unbelievable and that he hadn't noticed the occasional slight pause.
Dumbledore, however, was in no way stupid. He knew that the story given to him was a lie and he seriously doubted that there was even such a school as Seireiti School of Magical Fighting, but he could sense much power brimming beneath the surface of the curious boy and so was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, only because he wanted to see what the boy could do and also he wanted to keep an eye on him. There was something about him that set all of his senses into overdrive, telling him that this was a special person who needed his support, but also at the same time that he was dangerous and should be cast aside. Dumbledore had never experienced these conflicting emotions before and wondered what they meant.
"This certainly is an unusual situation that you have put me in Mr Hitsugaya, but right now I have a meeting I must return to. I shall take what you have said into consideration and get back to you with my answer. The best thing for you to do is to rest and get better. I will return shortly, good bye." With that Dumbledore stood up and walked out the door, closing it behind him.
There was something that seemed funny when he had talked to Dumbledore, something that had been said a couple of times, but Hitsugaya couldn't place what had been wrong. He thought about it for a few seconds, puzzled, but he couldn't think of an answer. So he moved onto the most pressing problem – movement. All the while when talking, he had been trying to gain some sort of movement anywhere in his body, but nothing would obey him. It was like somebody had come along and turned him into a statue. He focused on his right hand and started to concentrate, willing it to rise. He didn't know how long he stayed like that for, and anybody who saw him would think that he was insane, but after what felt like hours his index finger twitched. It was a small movement but i felt like a great victory. He had come to the conclusion that he was for some reason being held down magically, and that made him nervous. He had never liked being restricted or tied, and he especially didn't like it when he didn't know why he was being held. He slowly inched his concentration along his arm, not moving on until there was some form of movement in the area he was looking at.
By the time the doctor came back into the room, the sun shining through the window had been gone for ages and his entire right arm and the start of his left were free. The doctor wasn't the same one that had been in there early with Dumbledore – Dr Winfield was it? – and he had to admit that this doctor liked incompetent. He looked barely out of school with real boyish features on a round pudgy face. He checked vitals and made notes on a clipboard, all the while grinning like a maniac. When he was finished he dropped into the chair that Dumbledore had left by the bed.
"Hey there, I'm Dr Markus, but you can call me Shane if you want." His voice was almost worse than his face. It had the high quality to it that you usually only heard in young boys whose voices hadn't broken yet.
"I was looking at your charts and let me tell you, it was not good reading, if you know what I mean," No, I don't, thought Hitsugaya.
"Like, you were supposedly dead-like, and all mangled and broken, but you look fine to me."
Go away, leave me in peace. The guy's voice was starting to grate on his nerves. He had spent all day concentrating and now he just wanted to relax, but he couldn't because some 'friendly' doctor decided that he would keep him company. The boy continued to just drone on and on about random and useless stuff. It was annoying to say the least. It only got worse when the man started to talk about his extremely boring day, dramatising it and sometimes even doing sound effects. Kill me now.
"So, were you hungry, do you want something to eat?" It took him a few seconds before he realised that the doctor was speaking to him.
"What? Oh, no thank you, I'm not hungry." His stomach protested and growled as though to say liar. Thankfully 'Shane' didn't hear it.
"Well I've taken up so much of your time when you should have been resting. I'll try and swing by again tomorrow," Please don't, "but for now you rest Mr Toushirou, or can I call you Hitsugaya if that's all right?" He looked expectantly at the teen in the bed. Hitsugaya's eyes widened slightly as he realised something. He mumbled out a yes and a good night so the teen would leave and then he thought. Dumbledore had repeatedly called him 'Mr Hitsugaya', but in Western culture the name that came first was the given name and the second was the family name, but his name was reversed. He was Mr Hitsugaya, but Dumbledore shouldn't have known that. He should have done what the man had done and called him 'Mr Toushirou'. It was puzzling to say the least, what did it mean? But right now, Hitsugaya was tired so he let himself drift off to sleep...
The door creaked open as Dumbledore entered the decrepit looking house that was number 12 Grimmauld Place. He strode over to the closed kitchen door and walked confidently into the meeting that had been in full swing, but abruptly stopping upon his entry. All faces seemed to relax when they saw who it was. His eyes briefly glimpsed over all the members of the order – The Order of the Phoenix – who were seated around the rough table. There was Sirius Black at the head of the table leaning across Tonks about to speak to Mad-Eye Moody who in turn was sitting next to Arthur Weasley. Severus Snape sat the furthest away from anyone and was in a very polite conversation with Remus Lupin. He saw the twins, Fred and George, whispering to each other, most probably plotting some dastardly deed. Lastly, he saw Molly Weasley fussing over the three youngest non-members of the order, her youngest son Ron, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.
Everyone in the room waited patiently for Dumbledore to finish his brief survey of the room before he drew up a chair and sat down. They all waited for him to speak, and when they realised that he had no intention of doing so, Sirius was the first to break the silence.
"So... What was so important that you had to leave the meeting early? I mean you weren't gone very long."
Dumbledore thought for a moment before deciding carefully what he was about to say. "I had to meet a very... special person who shall be coming to Hogwarts this year as an exchange student." Complete silence settled over the group. They thought that Dumbledore hadn't looked too sure when he talked about this exchange student. But there were more important things to discuss than some kid, namely Voldemort. It was once again Sirius who broke the silence.
"Ok, so back to the matter on hand. We know that Voldemort is trying to come back and is trying to regain his body. But I just don't see how that's possible. I mean he had the best chance at the end of last year, when he tried to use Harry's blood and the bones of his father, plus other unimportant objects. But since someone, most likely the muggles, had exhumed the body for some kind of scientific research, Voldemort really was up the creek without a paddle. And that spell is the only one that I know of that can let him regain his body. There is absolutely no way humanly possible that he can come back to his former human self. Does anybody else have anything to say?"
At Sirius's words, there were many nodding heads in agreement, but a few were shaking, not agreeing with him at all. One being Severus Snape. The oily haired teacher opened his mouth but everyone else was speaking rapidly, trying to voice their opinions on the matter. To get their attention he slammed his hand down on the desk and it immediately quieted everyone down.
"Yes Sirius, what you say is true, last year was the Dark Lord's best chance to regain humanity, but just because you don't know of any other way does not mean that they do not exist. You do not know everything. There are probably hundreds of ways to make a synthetic body that his soul can inhabit. I mean the body is just a vessel which harbours our souls, what does what the vessel is made out of? Or maybe he could steal another persons' body through magic? There are more ways to gain a body than just one. We are thinking too much inside the square." Everyone was quiet as they contemplated the implications of what Snape had said. He was talking about creating a body, essentially an empty shell, for Voldemort to use. If that was the case he could make it look like anything he wanted and they would lose him before he began his reign of terror, but by then it would be too late.
Sirius started to laugh. It started quiet and then built up into a hearty laugh; many others joined in with him. Only Snape himself, Dumbledore, Hermione and Harry remained quiet.
"That Snivellus is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life. Making a body? How many movies do you watch? This is real life; those kinds of things aren't possible. So pull your head out of lala land and help think of what we should do to make the public aware that Voldemort's trying to return."
The argument continued as Harry turned to Hermione.
"Hey, Hermione," he whispered quietly so that no-one, not even Ron, could hear. "Is it possible? I mean what Snape was saying, is it possible?" Hermione worried her bottom lip before replying hesitantly. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of it before, and when you think about it, it does sound kind of outlandish, but... I just don't know. When we go to Hogwarts in three weeks I'll look it up in the library. If there is something on the topic that's the place I'll find it."
"Ok, thanks Hermione."
The argument continued on for another fifteen minutes before Molly decided to put an end to it.
"This is getting us nowhere. We shouldn't be fighting; we should be planning and standing united against our enemy. But anyways, I think that it's high time that everyone gets some rest, it's been a long day for most of us, and I know I for one would love to go to bed." There were murmurs of agreement as the meeting adjourned and everyone left to go to their separate sleeping quarters. Dumbledore bade the group goodnight before heading back to St Mungo's to tell a particular boy that he had granted his request to enter as an exchange student.
