Harry Potter and the Sennen Items
Chapter Nine: The Shape of My Heart
Nachzes Black-Rider

— Dreamscape—

Harry was in the room lined with bookshelves again; it looked as if it has recently been subjugated to a ransacking. The tarnished candelabras has been wrenched from their brackets on the wall, and hardened wax and burn marks— dark against the wood of several overturned shelves— were evidence of a small fire. Books and scrolls alike lay in awkward positions across the room, their spines broken, and their yellowing pages, torn and cracked, were scattered about like so many leaves in Fall. A fire hissed and roared in the hearth, devouring flames blood red against the black iron spikes of the grate. There were two men n the room, one cowering on the floor, whimpering and pleading, the other standing and towering over him, red eyes gleaming in the firelight, skin white against his black hair and cloak, and an expression of pure rage on his deformed face. Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord's thin lips parted in a hiss, and he spoke to the whimpering man before him, voice cold. "You were supposed to be guarding the boy, were you not, Fujimaki?"

"Yes, my Lord," the man gasped, keeping his forehead pressed to the sandstone floor. "But— "

"And yet he got away…" Voldemort continued silkily, as if the man had not spoken. "Now, why do you think that is?"

"My Lord— I do not know how— but somebody got into the dungeons— without alerting any of the guards— I did not realize— "

"Silence. I have heard enough of your mindless babbling; why were you not able to stop this man?"

"My Lord," Fujimaki squeaked, "I did not know, I swear it on my life— "

"Crucio!"

The Deatheater screamed, writhing on the floor in pain, and Harry felt his scar, which had been steadily throbbing as Voldemort's rage grew, burn. His knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor, clutching at his forehead, teeth gritted. Suddenly, Fujimaki's screams died off, and he lay sprawled, prostrate, on the floor at Voldemort's feet, gasping and panting for breath.

"Please, my Lord," he began, quivering in fear, but got no further.

"I have no use in my ranks for those who cannot perform the menial task given to them, such as guarding an eleven-year-old boy!" Voldemort spat, raising his wand, and Harry felt pain flare to life in his scar once more. "Avada— "

"My Lord?" The voice was female, and falsely calm; it spoke of a hidden excitement just beneath the surface, and Harry felt a thrill of dread.

Voldemort, cut off, spun and fixed a glare upon the woman who had entered the room without asking. "What is it, Bella?" he snapped, the gold broach on his cloak glowing eerily.

Bellatrix spoke again, in that same voice flooded with barely-concealed excitement. "My Lord, we have news from Lucius," she said breathlessly. "It seems that they have translated the tablet!"

A hush fell over the room, and Harry's scar burned, a faint, fluttery feeling around his midsection making his stomach clench in discomfort.

"Very well," Voldemort said after a while, red eyes gleaming with excitement. "Fujimaki, I shall not kill you now— "

"Oh thank you, my Lord, thank you! I will do my utmost to— "

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed, and the Deatheater fell silent. The Dark Lord continued. "You will have one last chance to prove your worth," he said. "I have another task for you now…."

But the dream was fading, no matter how Harry tried to hang onto it, to hear what the Dark Lord's plan was. The voices were fading, and the colours were dissolving into shades of grey and black, and blurring together, so that when he blinked reflexively to clear his vision…the room was gone. Instead, he found himself standing in a much larger room, dimly lit and rectangular…he looked down into the sunken pit below, and felt his stomach drop.

The archway….

Its tattered black veil still fluttered in a non-existent breeze, an immortal touch by the people who had gone through it years ago, and Sirius…. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, and swallowed, beginning to walk down the steps slowly, as if in a trance. He did not feel the smooth, well-worn stone against his feet like he felt the gritty sandstone floor in Voldemort's hideout, but instead seemed to float down the stairs, so that before he knew it, he was standing in front of the stone archway, and reaching towards the fluttering veil. He could swear he could hear Sirius murmuring to him…laughing as though he was just out of sight…just out of reach.

Harry flung the veil aside, and stepped through the archway, expecting to meet his godfather, to confront him….

But there he found only a chill, haunting blackness.

— End Dreamscape—

Harry awoke hours later to find himself placed in his own bed in the bedroom that he and Ron shared, listening to the incessant chirping of the birds outside his window. He glanced at Ron's bed to see that the other was still asleep, snoring quietly; rolling over, Harry blinked at seeing Phineas Nigellus sitting in his portrait, apparently watching over him. Seeing that Harry was awake, the ex-Headmaster sniffed disapprovingly and stood. "I suppose," he said, "that now that you are awake, and, apparently, unharmed, I am allowed to go?"

Harry blinked. "I suppose," he said slowly, and Phineas sniffed haughtily again and walked out of his portrait, Harry watching him go. Then, suddenly, the teen frowned, shaking his head and sitting up in his bed. "Mister— err— Professor Nigellus," he called, hoping that the other could still hear him over at Hogwarts.

"What is it?" Phineas' nasally voice snapped from his empty portrait.

"…What happened to me?" Harry asked. "Sir," he tacked on hastily. "That is, the last thing I remember is…the kitchen, and…Mokuba…" he trailed off into silence, and there was a long pause before Phineas suddenly appeared in his portrait, casually inspecting his nails as though he wasn't interested. "Phinea— Professor Nigellus?" Harry asked hesitantly, and Phineas heaved a sigh.

"Oh, alright," he said, long-suffering. "I suppose I could tell you…" he gave his fingernails one last cursory glance before he looked at Harry. "You collapsed in the dining room shortly after the younger Kaiba fainted, screaming and clutching at your forehead." He paused in his monotonous recital of Harry's collapse to clear his throat, peering once again at his fingernails, as if waiting for the other to add something. When he didn't, the old Black glanced up at Harry, who was looking expectantly at him, and heaved a great sigh, then continued. "After a good half hour of trying to calm you down, you went limp. It looked like you were asleep, apparently, so they tried to wake you up; when they were unsuccessful, they called Dumbledore, who told them to just let you rest, and then he sent me to 'watch over you'. Now, are there any more of your inane questions?" he asked snidely, and Harry shook his head.

"No. Thank you, Professor," he said.

Phineas sniffed, and walked out of the portrait. There was a pause, and then the Slytherin's disembodied voice sounded again. "I suppose," Phineas said, "that, for a Gryffindor, you are a suitable enough predecessor for my great-great-grandson to have chosen for his inheritance."

The empty portrait fell silent again, and Harry gaped soundlessly at it for several moments before he recovered enough of his wits to close his mouth. Rising from his bed, he located his shoes and socks on the floor near the foot of the bed and slipped them on, then exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him on instinct, though he knew that Ron slept like a rock, and that nothing short of the next giant-wizard war would have roused him.

Downstairs, Harry wasn't surprised to see several members of the Order sitting around the kitchen table and talking in hushed voices. They all looked up when he walked in, and Mrs. Weasley jumped up from her chair and hurried over to him, pulling him into a constricting embrace. "Harry, dear!" she exclaimed, holding him out once more at arms' length and scrutinizing him as though examining his pallor. "You had us so worried with that turn you took last night!" she said. "Thank goodness we knew where Dumbledore was to contact him!" She beamed, apparently finding Harry's complexion to her liking, and released him. "What would you like for breakfast, dear?" she asked. "Toast? Kippers? Bacon and eggs?" She bustled off to the kitchen and began clanging pots and pans together as she rifled through the cupboards.

"Toast, please," Harry said, pulling out a chair to sit at, then pausing as his stomach gave a loud rumble. "And some eggs and bacon is you have them, I suppose."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling out her wand and flicking it at several eggs on the counter, which immediately leapt up and began breaking themselves over the frying pan on the stove. "Eggs, Lupin?" she asked. "Mad-Eye? Tonks? Oh, and how would you like yours done, Harry?" she added as a chorus of yeses rang out from the table.

"Oh, scrambled is fine," Harry said, and Mrs. Weasley nodded, milk flowing from the tip of her wand into the pan full of eggs as bacon layered itself into another. The sounds and smells of breakfast cooking soon filled the room, and Harry turned to face Lupin. "So where's Bill?" he asked, and Lupin's meditative expression soured slightly.

"He's gone to Saint Mungo's," Tonks said, giving Lupin a strange look. The werewolf frowned deeper and took a sip of coffee, and Tonks sighed an continued. "It was his turn to go look after Seto. He took Mokuba with him."

"Why?" Harry asked, murmuring his thanks as Mrs. Weasley set a plate piled with bacon, eggs, toast and fried tomatoes in front of him.

"Bill has a theory that Seto will wake up if Mokuba talks to him. Apparently, muggles can her you if you talk to them while they're in a…what was it? Oka?" Lupin said.

"Coma," Harry replied.

"Right. That." Lupin cleared his throat and took another sup of coffee as Mrs. Weasley set a plate in front of him with a slightly-louder-than-usual clatter, her face pinched. Harry remembered what Bill had said the other night, and winced, digging into his breakfast as Lupin went on. "Anyways, he would have taken the boy regardless." He shook his head and scooped up a mouthful of eggs. "You can't keep those two apart."

"But— " Harry began, intending to point out that Voldemort had, in fact, done so, before remembering why Seto was in St. Mungo's. "Oh," he said instead, rather lamely.

Lupin nodded.

Moody, who was currently inspecting the plate of food in front of him, growled, "I don't trust the boy. Old beyond his years."

Mrs. Weasley gave the ex-Auror a reproving look and set a plate before Tonks, pulling out a chair and placing her own before her. "Now Alastor," she said, "he's only fifteen— "

"He's as cold as Snape was," Moody bit off. His unspoken words, And we all know what Snape turned out to be, hung in the awkward silence. "I don't like him."

"His parents— "

"I don't see Potter getting uppity just because he's an orphan," Moody replied, cutting Mrs. Weasley off, and Harry nearly choked on a mouthful of eggs.

"What?" he coughed. "Kaiba's an orphan?"

"Don't see any Mr. or Mrs. Kaibas inquiring about the whereabouts of their sons, do you?" Moody growled, and Harry shook his head, still surprised.

Kaiba and I have something in common? he thought, What's next?

° ¥ °

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba cried, rushing to his elder brother's bedside, an expression of mixed fear and relief on his face. Bill watched him as the boy grasped Seto's hand in his, indigo eyes beading with tears. "Nii-sama, mezame-saseru, onegai (1)!" he cried, and Bill walked forward, closing the door behind himself and taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, watching as Mokuba continued to speak in Japanese to his brother, voice trembling as he did so. "Onegai, Nii-sama…" Mokuba began, his voice small and choked as though he were fighting off tears, and Bill touched his arm lightly, hearing the boy gasp in response; feeling his flinch away, draw back, from his touch, and Bill felt a surge of anger towards the Deatheaters and their leader. How could they stand to torture an innocent eleven-year-old boy…?

Evil, he thought, turning his attention back to Mokuba as the boy remained stiff. "Mokuba," Bill said quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you." The eleven-year-old exhaled loudly, and drew breath in quickly as though trying to mask the action, his shoulders beginning to shake minutely as he began to sob. "Mokuba?" Bill asked, standing and laying his hands on those jerking shoulders.

"I want him to wake up!" Mokuba cried, gulping back sobs and wiping away his tears with the ratty cuff of his dirty shirt. "Onegai, Nii-sama, mezame-saseru!" he said again, "Mezame-saseru…."

Bill reached down and gently pried Mokuba's fingers loose from around his brother's limp hand, the boy whimpering and attempting to clutch tighter as he did so.

"No," Mokuba whispered, and Bill shushed him. "No, don't." He made a sound a like a stifled sob. "Don't," he repeated weakly, biting his lip when it trembled. Bill noticed this.

"Mokuba…" he said, "it's okay to cry."

It was as if his words had triggered the breaking of a dam, and, suddenly, he was holding a sobbing Mokuba. "Shh, Mokuba, it's okay," Bill murmured, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back and crooning. "It's alright," he said. "Relax…."

Mokuba's shoulders heaved in one last sob, and he wept silently into Bill's shoulder, hiccoughing on occasion. "I want him to wake up," Mokuba gasped as he looked up, indigo eyes gleaming with tears, face shiny with their tracks. "I just want him to wake up." The boy turned to his brother's unconscious form and took his hand again as Bill sat down, the younger Kaiba resting in his lap. "Please, Seto," Mokuba whispered, squeezing tight, "please wake up!" he sniffled a little, and wiped his face again with his sleeve. "Please…."

For a few moments there was silence. Then, suddenly, Mokuba gasped, and Bill jumped to attention. "What is it?" he asked. "What's happ— "

"His eye!" Mokuba exclaimed, and Bill started, and began scrutinizing Seto's face. "It just moved! See— there! His eyelid flickered a bit." Bill watched as Mokuba's hand tightened on his brother's, then slackened slightly, as though Mokuba was waiting for his brother to squeeze back. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he did. The pale fingers on the bed curled a little, one by one, and then loosened again. "Come on, Seto," Mokuba murmured, squeezing back firmly and waiting. "Please wake up…." Seto's jaw twitched, his eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers curled tighter this time, and held. "That's it, Seto," Mokuba said, tightening his grip again. "Wake up." His face broke into a grin when Seto squeezed back, his eyelids flickering again. The brunet's lips parted slightly, a breath escaping him along with a quiet moan, his head turning slightly to one side, eyelids fluttering. "Come on, Nii-sama," Mokuba encouraged, and that angular jaw twitched. "Mezame-saseru, Nii-sama. Wake up, please."

"Mokuba…." Seto's head thrashed slightly, his eyelids twitching as his eyes rolled around behind them in their sockets.

"That's right, Seto; it's me."

"Moku…" the other mumbled, lips moving silently in completion of the name, and his hand tightened around his brother's. "Mokuba…."

"Wake up, Nii-sama."

"Nng…."

This time, Bill caught a glimpse of blue as Seto's eyelids fluttered open briefly, then shut again.

"Mokuba…."

"I'm right here, Nii-sama. Right here. You just need to wake up."

"Mokuba…."

"I'm here."

"Moku…" Seto drew in breath shakily, the air rattling past the phlegm in his throat, and he coughed, his thin body jerking spastically on the bed. "Mokuba."

"Wake up, Seto. Just wake up."

The brunet tossed his head restlessly again, and his eyelids fluttered open further, slitting again as the light hit them. "Moku…."

"Here, Nii-sama. I'm over here," Mokuba said, and Bill's heart rose as Seto responded to the other's voice, his head slowly turning to face Mokuba, his eyes slitted but open. They opened wider, though, when Mokuba reached out to touch his brother's face, and Seto shuddered minutely, eyes slowly travelling up Mokuba's body towards his face.

"Mokuba…?" Seto mumbled, eyelids drooping drowsily, "Nani (2)…?" His eyes opened wider and he tried to sit up, wincing at he was forced to put weight on his bandaged wrists, when Mokuba's eyes flooded with tears again. "Mokuba, suru nai naku (3)," he said, reaching out a hand, then freezing as he focused on Bill. Witching back to perfect un-accented English with apparent ease, he snapped, "What are you doing here?" Bill felt himself flush under the younger's furious glare, and couldn't help feeling grateful when Mokuba said something in rapid Japanese that momentarily drew Seto's attention away from the redhead. Occasionally, Seto would interrupt his brother with a curt word, which then would send Mokuba off on a new tangent, so that it was nearly half and hour before Seto turned back to Bill, face carefully blank. "Mokuba tells me that you were an idiotic vigilante and decided to single-handedly rescue him from his captors." Cautiously, Bill nodded, unsure whether Seto was thanking him or insulting him. There was a brief, tense pause, and then Seto sighed, rolling his eyes. "I suppose I should thank you," he said, "so…thank you."

Bill grinned, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder, earrings jangling. "You're welcome, then," he said, guessing that Mokuba had deliberately left some parts of his tale out when he recounted it to the brunet by the calm way in which Seto was acting. "Where did you learn English?" he asked after a moment's more silence, and Seto's blue eyes flashed as though in challenge.

"My father," he said shortly, and left it as that. Bill raised an eyebrow, but retrained from comment, instead remaining tacit until Seto spoke again, his words making the redhead immediately regret his silence. "So," Seto began, tone light but dangerous; Mokuba's head snapped up, the eleven-year-old suddenly alert, "why wasn't I told where Mokuba was?"

Choosing his words carefully, Bill replied, "That rest of the Order didn't feel it a worthwhile risk to stage a rescue mission at the time; you weren't told because they thought you might attempt to take on You-Know-Who by yourself— "

"Who is this 'You-Know-Who'?" Seto mimicked snidely, an undercurrent of impatience, frustration, and anger lacing his tone.

"He's…his name in Lord Voldemort," Bill said in a rush. "Or, at least that's what he calls himself. Everyone else in the wizarding world fears him too much to utter his name, so people call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'." Seto scoffed at this, apparently disgusted, and Bill went on. "He— Voldemort— first came to power about thirty years ago. For sixteen years, he blackmailed, murdered, and cursed people until they were under his power. He convinced the giants and the Dementors— they guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and have the power to steal you soul; they feed off of happiness— to join him. It seemed that he'd never fall, but then, one say, about fourteen years ago, he did.

"He'd tried to kill a baby boy named Harry Potter; however, he couldn't do it. But then…a little more than a year ago…he came back. He's been quietly gathering followers all year. They're called Deatheaters; they're the ones who kidnapped your brother," Bill said. He took a deep breath, and went on. "But we at the Order (an organization created to oppose Voldemort) have reason to believe that their real target was you. That's why we couldn't risk telling you who had Mokuba, in case you tried to rescue him, and ended up as Voldemort's captive. However," Bill said, "I saw no reason to allow Voldemort to continue to torture Mokuba— because, make no mistake, that's what was happening," the redhead added when Seto's eyes flashed and a simmering glare masked his delicate features.

"So," Bill continued, "I stole the Order's notes on Voldemort's current hideout, snuck out, and performed an idiotic, life-threatening, vigilante act, and set out on a rescue mission." He brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and met Seto's burning sapphire eyes evenly. "I'm not saying that the Order's thought process was wrong," he said. "But I felt that past…lack of action, I guess, spoke against their theories."

"A man does not wear his heart on his sleeve for all to see," Seto challenged, ignoring Mokuba's attempts to hush him.

Bill shrugged. "Perhaps not," he commented, "but some might also say I'm not a real man." He flashed a challenging grin back at Seto's calculating expression, and tossed his head, his earrings chiming against one another and his red hair swimming. Seto did nothing but raise an eyebrow and make a cryptic noise, perhaps in affirmation. In response, Bill let his gaze linger a little longer on the other's before he nudged Mokuba off his lap and stood, stretching.

"I suppose I should go and tell the Healers that you're awake," he said, walking towards the doorway and glancing over his shoulder to catch Seto's silent nod of affirmation as he exited the room.

The redhead allowed the door to fall shut behind him before he let out a whoop and took off down the hall towards the Healers' station, grinning.

"He's awake!" he blurted upon arrival that the station, the grin still there. "He woke up!" A Healer left to go check on Seto, and Bill beamed, thinking of the looks on the faces of those in Grimmauld Place when they found out that he had been right all along.

The burst of pride covered up the familiar yet dreaded feeling in his chest, and he relaxed further.

After all, everything had gone as planned. And the tiny bug in the system could be worked out, he reasoned. No one had to know what he was feeling towards a certain blue-eyed brunet.

His secret was safe with him.

° ¥ °

It was a week later when Seto was released from St. Mungo's, skin paler than usual, and refusing to lean on anyone who dared to offer him aid. The last week had been…strenuous, even he would admit, though perhaps not out loud. With the constant stress of being under scrutiny of the Healers, as they called themselves, whenever they came to attempt to force him to drink goblets full of what they told him was "a mixture of blood-replenishing potion, water, an elixir for re-hydration, and a potion to help him gain weight" because, apparently, he was "severely underweight". And then there were Mokuba and Bill, who were continually pestering him to give in to the prodding invasions of the Healers. Of course, Seto was glad just to hear Mokuba say anything, though he would never voice this opinion.

"Nii-sama," said imp whined, tugging at the sleeve of Seto's shirt (it was really Bill's shirt, because the redhead was closest to him in height and size, though the clothes still hung significantly on him), "Nii-sama, you aren't healed enough yet to walk on your own!" he cried in Japanese.

Seto waved him away slightly, and continued doggedly to walk— on his own— ahead. Bill, in the lead, turned around and frowned at him, as though concerned, and took a step towards him; Seto glared back.

"Don't you dare, Weasley," he growled, ignoring the twinge of reluctance he felt when Bill rolled his emerald eyes and turned back around.

They continued on for another block or so, stopping when they reached a grassy patch underneath a street sign, an arrow pointing into a cul-de-sac before them and proclaiming Grimmauld Place to the world. "We're here," Bill declared, pulling a scrap of parchment from his pocket and handing it to Seto and Mokuba. Seto took it, read it, and looked up at Bill with a raised eyebrow. Bill looked back at him, and Seto wordlessly handed the parchment to Mokuba, his fingers brushing those of the other as he did so. Still solid; still there. He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as Mokuba handed the paper back to Bill, who immediately incinerated it with his wand. Seto twitched.

Magic, he thought bitterly, his lip curling slightly.

"Now concentrate on what you just read," Bill instructed.

"But why— " began Mokuba.

Shaking his head, Bill replied, "Not here. Do what I said. You'll see."

Lip curling further in response to being patronized, though indirectly, Seto forced himself to think of what the note had said. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he repeated in his head. The Headquarters—

Mokuba gasped, and blue eyes snapped open, focusing on the younger brother instantly. "Seto," Mokuba breathed, pointing, "look."

He did.

Stunned, Seto stared as the house formed, growing taller and wider and pushing numbers eleven and thirteen out of its way. Yet, no one seemed to notice. Turning to Bill to demand to know what was happening, he felt his breath instead catch in his throat when he saw how the other was looking at him, emerald gaze intense and filled with…something. Quickly, Bill shook his head an looked away, leaving Seto confused and feeling as though he had just undergone a rush of vertigo.

"Right, well," Bill said, "we'll just…yeah." He coughed, and Seto blinked, then looked away, instead occupying his time by brushing Mokuba's unruly hair back in a gesture that did not go unnoticed by either of them as they stepped up to the door and Bill knocked, the sound quickly followed by footsteps on the inside. The door swung open and Mrs. Weasley waved the threesome inside, shutting the door behind them, and Seto watched as the re-did the dozen locks. Finally she straightened and bustled over to them, speaking in a hushed whisper as she gestured them towards the sitting room, "This way, dears, and please be careful not to wake anything up."

Seto glanced around distastefully as the house's décor, noting the omnipresence of multiple decorative serpents with scorn. He felt something brush past his arm, and glanced down to see Mokuba standing next to him, black hair just barely touching the elder's arm as he turned. Almost imperceptibly, Seto relaxed, though he hadn't even realized that he was tense.

Then Mrs. Weasley threw open the drawing room door, and a great yell of "SURPRISE!" rift the air as the residents of Grimmauld Place leapt up from their respective hiding places behind the couches. Right on cue, the painting in the hallways began shrieking curses and laments, and Seto smirked as everyone else winced, and Mrs. Weasley ran off to close the painting's hangings.

Left alone with the rest of the wizards and witches, Seto swept them all with a piercing glare, pleased to see that several of them drew back from its force. "I don't like surprises," he drawled, ignoring the sensation that he was falling; dizziness, he thought. It'll pass. Distracted momentarily by the desire to check his surroundings for Mokuba, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing down and feeling the now-familiar wave of relief wash over him. Hearing the silence stretch on )which must have been awkward for the rest of them), Seto grunted. "Yuugi," he barked, "aren't you going to say hello to Mokuba?"

Looking slightly relieved, Yuugi came forward and bowed slightly to Mokuba, who returned the favour, and then struck up a conversation in Japanese. The words English, Mokuba were on the tip of his tongue, but Seto refrained from comment. It was supposed to be a party, after all, and if Seto himself couldn't enjoy it, perhaps Mokuba could.

Shaking his head slightly, Seto looked longingly up the stairs, but remained stoic beside Mokuba. Sensing the gaze of somebody else on him, Seto turned, meeting the emerald eyes of Bill Weasley evenly until the other had looked away. Bored already, Seto almost welcomed it when Mrs. Weasley called everyone to dinner, though it would mean having people, namely Mokuba, he Weasley matron, and Bill, try to force-feed him; claiming, as they always did, that he was "far too thin". Of course, to his great chagrin, Seto was seated between his brother and Malik, who was now grinning at him deviously, blond hair done up in a messy braid. Grimacing, Seto attempted to ignore the Egyptian (and the pair of green eyes scrutinizing him from across the table as he served himself a tiny portion of stew). Eyeing his meagre dinner with distaste, Seto picked up his fork and speared a piece of meat with dainty ease, noting with some snide pleasure that Yuugi was having difficulty with the European cutlery. As he raised the meat to his mouth, Seto let his mind drift slightly and tuned it to what Mokuba was saying.

"…studied dragons in Romania?" Mokuba asked, and Seto's fork stopped halfway to his mouth before he recovered enough presence of mind to move it again.

"That's right," the man on Mokuba's right said through a mouthful of food. He had red hair, Seto noted as he glanced over towards them. Bill's brother, maybe? "Once this summer's over I'm going to New Zealand and China to study breeds like the Opal Eye and the Fireball for a year, and then I'm going to spend a couple years backpacking across Europe with some friends to study the European dragons."

"So what kinds of dragons have you dealt with so far?" Mokuba asked.

"Oh, well in Romania they have a kind of park where beginning dragon handlers can learn about all the different types of dragons and how to treat basic diseases such as scale rot and stuff. I finished my training course and got my license to teach my first year, and I've been instructing new handlers for the last two years." He paused, and went on. "his year I decided it's about time I found a speciality, so I'm spending the next few years travelling to try and get a feel for a particular breed."

"I heard that the mothers are the ones with their own territory, not the males."

"Yes. The females each have their own terrain, but the males all live in one group except for when they leave to go find a mate; once two dragons have mated, they'll go stake out a territory together, or perhaps both move into the female's pre-existing area. Dragons mate for life; they go through a complicated ritual in choosing their mate, and they only have one month to find one and complete the ritual, so it can get pretty hot with all the competition."

"Seto, dear, aren't you going to eat anymore?" Mrs. Weasley asked, and Seto looked down, realising that he had cleared his entire plate.

"No," he said, "I'm not hungry. And it's Kaiba."

"You really should eat more," Mrs. Weasley insisted, and Seto realised with dismay that everyone had now focused their collective attention on him.

"Nii-sama," Mokuba began, but Seto cut him off.

"I'm fine, Mokuba," Seto said, his tone flashing End of Conversation in pink neon lights. Bill didn't get the hint.

"Seto, you need to eat; you just got back from a week in the hospital!" the redhead exclaimed, and Seto shoved back his chair furiously, standing up.

"I've spent more that a week in the hospital and not had to be babied when I got back, Weasley!" Seto snarled, knuckles white on the table. "I AM NOT A CHILD!" He kicked his chair out of the way and stormed out of the room, feeling the stares of the others on his back as he slammed the boor behind him, taking the stairs four at a time to reach his room.

Breathing hard from anger, Seto leaned up against the wall in the room he and Mokuba were to be sharing, closing his yes and pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He was hungry now, but he'd learned how to go without food for longer a long time ago. No, hunger shouldn't had made him snap…he's have to find the cause of that, and either get rid of it, or train himself to deal with it. That in mind, he dropped his hand to his side and opened his eyes, only to see Bill Weasley standing in the doorway with that strange, intense look on his face. Immediately, Seto forced him impassive mask back on, and summoned a weak glare.

"What?" he snapped.

Bill just continued to look at him, and Seto shirted uncomfortably, looking away; he didn't know why, but for some reason Bill's gaze— and his silence— made Seto unnerved. Finally, Bill spoke, voice low and rough, "Why do you make the assumption that everyone's trying to annoy you?" He paused, and swallowed. Seto, frozen in place, watched as the redhead stepped closer, until he was standing right in front of him, emerald eyes locked with sapphire. "Why do you think nobody cares?"

The question was right there, spoken in a whisper, but Seto never got a chance to answer it, because all of a sudden Bill's lips were on his, and Bill's tongue was in his mouth, and he meant to shove the redhead away (he really did), but instead his hands wove themselves into the hair at the base of the other's neck, his blue eyes drifting shut.

As far, he had been holding his breath in shock, but his lungs were burning, and so he pulled in air on instinct, oxygen flooding his paralyzed brain and jump-starting his though process. Suddenly aware, Seto's eyes shot open, and he placed his palms on Bill's chest and roughly shoved him away, gasping and collapsing to unsteady knees, putting a shaky hand to his face.

"Seto?" he heard, and flinched instinctively as he felt Bill lay a hand on his shoulder. "Are you— "

"I'm fine," Seto rasped, choking back the sobs that threatened to make themselves known. Oh God, the memories, he thought, trembling, the floor wavering through the unwanted tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Just…go," he said through gritted teeth. Please go! he thought desperately, I can't keep this back much longer!

But Bill refused to leave, instead crouching beside him and placing an hand on his back again. "Seto," he said, "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I just…." He cleared his throat, and Seto felt his arms shaking, threatening to give out.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, watching the carpet swim before him, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard the other draw in breath.

"Because…" Bill said slowly, as if considering each word before letting it clear his lips, "because…I care about you." He breathed deeply before continuing, as though steadying himself. "I want to be with you, Seto; I…haven't felt this way since my fiancée was still alive. I did it because…I think I'm in love with you."

Stunned, Seto knelt there, frozen, staring unseeing at the carpet.

"Seto?" Bill asked, and the brunet snapped back to reality.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have— "

"What did you say?"

Bill swallowed, and Seto closed his eyes tightly again, turning away. He's not going to say it, he thought. He won't.

"…I love you," Bill whispered, and Seto whipped around, blue eyes shimmering with the tears he refused to shed.

"Say it again."

Emerald eyes met his. "I love you."

Seto closed his eyes shakily. "Say it again."

"I love you." Bill's fingers touched his chin lightly, tilting his head upwards ever-so-slightly, and Seto suppressed a shiver, keeping his eyes closed.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

This time, the words were breathed brazenly over his lips, and he trembled as Bill's lips met his again in a chaste kiss before pulling away. Seto opened his eyes, meeting Bill's, and the redhead spoke again.

"I love you."

And as Seto closed his eyes and the other leaned in to kiss him again, he could feel himself falling….

-o-

It was later that night when Seto reappeared downstairs, having endured both Mokuba's and Bill's needling to "be sociable" for as long as he could. He managed to further avoid human contact by standing with his arms crossed over his chest in a corner and glaring at anybody who came near him for several minutes until Malik sauntered over to him, grinning. Seto glared at him, but the blond merely waved it aside and stepped closer. "Dumbledore wants to talk with us, Kaiba," he said. Seto's yes narrowed.

"Who?" he asked briskly, and Malik arched a pale eyebrow.

"Kaiba, Kaiba, Kaiba," he mocked, "no reason to get nasty. I'm just the messenger boy." He paused to flick an imaginary speck of dirt off his shoulder, and Seto's eyes narrowed further. "As I was saying," Malik went on, "the Headmaster of this school we're supposed to go to, and the leader of the Order, would like to speak with us." He stopped. "Oh, and bring shrimpy-Kaiba, too."

Seto's eyes flashed. "Mokuba is almost taller than Yuugi," he growled. Malik shrugged, apparently not caring, and wandered off. Seto rolled his eyes. "Where are we meeting Dumbledore, Ishtal?"

Malik turned, grinning. "Knew you'd come around," he commented. "We're meeting in the study," he said, "upstairs." The blond raised two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. "Ta at, Kaiba," he said cheerfully, and left, Seto glaring after him.

Still frowning, Seto turned and began to scan the crowd for a glimpse of Mokuba's tell-tale mane of unruly jet black hair; spotting it, he headed over to his brother, who was talking yet again with the stocky redhead that Seto thought must be related to Bill. "Mokuba," Seto called, and the eleven-year-old looked around.

"Nani?" he asked.

"What, Mokuba, not nani." Seto paused. "Apparently, we're supposed to meet with the person behind this atrocity."

"Alright," Mokuba said slowly, and waved to his red-haired companion. "Bye, Charlie."

The redhead— Charlie— nodded and disappeared into the crowd, and Seto grunted, turning away. "Come, Mokuba," he said. "Upstairs."

The two entered the study where Malik had said to met a minute later, Seto with a distinct glower on his face as he gave the room a cautionary glance and met the eyes of the man whom he assumed must be this "Dumbledore".

The man smiled at him, and Seto's frown deepened further when he say Yuugi and Ryö speaking quietly to each other off to the side, and Malik reclining in a puffy leather chair in the middle of the room, grinning at him. Seto's lips twisted in a sneer and he looked away, meeting Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and narrowing his own. "Welcome, Seto," Dumbledore said cheerfully, apparently unperturbed, "please, sit down."

"It's Kaiba," Seto growled, stubbornly remaining upright and on his feet.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he murmured. "Well, in that case, perhaps you would like to sit down, Mokuba," he said, turning to the form that had crept out from behind his brother. Seto felt a moment's panic before he quelled the urge to hide Mokuba, and stiffened. "Rest assured, Mr. Kaiba," Dumbledore said, reaching into a pocket in his periwinkle robes and withdrawing a tin of something, "I have no intention of harming you or your brother." He pried something from the tin and extended it to Seto. "Sherbert lemon?"

"No," Seto said. Dumbledore shrugged and popped the sweet into his mouth.

"Suit yourself," he said.

"You say you have no intention of hurting us," Seto said suddenly, "yet according to what I heard, you and your organization seemed pretty unconcerned if my brother lived or died."

Inclining his head briefly, Dumbledore spoke, "And perhaps that was a gross miscalculation on our part. However, at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do to wait it out and see what happened."

"I think you'll find," Seto hissed, tone poisonous, "that while I may permit others to flirt with their own, or my, mortality, I hold the life of my brother in much higher regard.

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba cried as if in protest, but Seto ignored his outcry, instead continuing to stare at Dumbledore. Malik cackled.

"So self-sacrificing," the blond said, grinning. "Is it bravery, Kaiba, which drives you to protect your brother unto death, or cowardice, which leads you to take the easy way out?" He choked suddenly, Seto's arm having moved as quick as the flash of fury that entered his eyes, to wrap long fingers around the Egyptian's neck.

Ryö squeaked, startled, and Yuugi shouted "Kaiba-kun", just as Mokuba yelled "Nii-sama, iie (4)!".

"You would do better to remember, Ishtal," Seto snarled quietly into the other's ear, "that while your Rob is useless against me, I am trained to take lives, if necessary, with my bare hands." He squeezed his fingers slightly to be sure that he drove his point home, and released the tomb keeper, lip curling in disgust as he turned away from Malik's wheezing form.

"Seto," Dumbledore said, voice cold, "white your are under my supervision, I would appreciate it if you did not threaten others under my charge.

"You'll forgive me," Seto hissed, satisfaction coursing through hi veins at having made Dumbledore lose his cheery demeanour, "I'm afraid I forgot to mention that I am being held here against my will, and will not be abiding by your rules."

"I am sorry, Seto, that you had to endure four weeks of waiting, for weeks of not knowing, but you would have been a danger to yourself and to others had you been told!"

"And I ended up being a danger to myself anyways. Imagine that," Seto replied coolly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Seto— Kaiba— please sit down. If you would allow me, I would like to explain everything."

Still suspicious, Seto eyed the other before nodding curtly and taking a seat in a straight-backed ebony chair, facing Dumbledore. "Fine," he said, "you explain to me why you're keeping me and my brother here, and why you kept information of Mokuba's whereabouts and his state from me, and I'll think about listening to whatever else you feel you need to say."

Dumbledore inclined his head to the brunet and waved his wand, causing four overstuffed poufs to appear in midair, slowly twirling as they descended. "Yuugi, Ryö, Mokuba," Dumbledore said, sitting on one of the poufs and gesturing to the others, "please have a seat." The three did so, and Dumbledore inhaled, closing his eyes. "It all started," he said, opening his eyes again, "in Egypt early last summer. Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard of out time, had been revived in June. Now, I assume all of you have been told of Voldemort's history?" When he received five nods, Dumbledore continued, "Good. Well, he was just beginning again, and he needed time to continue building up his forces— he needed to remain in hiding, so that he could bide his time. He spent several weeks in his old house in Little Hangleton, but disappeared one day, and our inside sources informed us that he was making a new headquarters in a forgotten village in Egypt, having developed an intense interest in prophesies and old magyk. According to our sources, Voldemort had a theory that all prophesies are inter-related, and he thought that he could learn more about a vision concerning him if he studied others. He found an old prophesy engraved on a sandstone tablet in an undiscovered tomb, and quickly enlisted the aid of several Egyptian sources to translate it for him. Unfortunately for him, the prophesy was not complete, and also references several other works of the time, which neither Voldemort nor his Deatheaters could find.

Switching gears, Voldemort decided to work on gaining access to the record of the original prophecy that he had wanted to know more about. Fortunately, the Order managed to thwart his final attempt at this just before this summer began, in June.

"Of course, then Voldemort had to fall back on his original plan. The Dark Lord was never stupid, though, and he'd had a second, smaller group researching the Egyptian prophesy just in case Plan A failed. As it turned out, they'd gotten a fair bit of information from an Egyptian curator, and so it seemed like they were back on track. They didn't need to skulk about in secret anymore, either, so he began to make more outward threats and expand his borders at a rate that was so great that for a while many thought he'd never be stopped again. Then they discovered that the tablet which the prophesy had referenced was encrypted, and their progress slowed so that the Order was able to begin to track their slower movements better. We found out that they had discovered that he prophesy was somehow talking about the future…our present…and that it directly referred to a chain of events, and the people involved in them, which had been taking place during the last year in the 'muggle world', as we wizards refer to it as. This drove Voldemort to research the people involved in both the present events, and the past, which looked to be repeating itself.

"Of course, this research…led him to you," Dumbledore said, looking around the room. His blue eyes landed on Mokuba, and he amended his statement. "All of you," he said, "except for one. You were unmentioned, Mokuba, and they were unprepared for your presence when they bust in during your meeting with Bill and Remus to kidnap Seto. And they ended up with you as a captive, instead of your brother. You see, Seto— Kaiba— has been their target all along," Dumbledore said, standing up and beginning to pace, Seto's calculating sapphire eyes locked on his form. "They believe," the old Headmaster said, "that Kaiba is the reincarnation of an Egyptian Priest who, long ago, gained insurmountable power and became Pharaoh after his cousin, who was sacrificed to the power.

"They didn't quite get it right, though; they're still missing some valuable details to our knowledge, which is why they're working so hard to translate that tablet. Nevertheless, they formed a plan to convince, blackmail, or trick Se— Kaiba into joining their side, and they've been trying all summer to get it to succeed. They broke into your hotel room because they wanted to capture you, not your brother; when that failed, they attempted to use their only known form of leverage over you— the life of your brother— so that they could blackmail you into joining their ranks. Finally, we— Bill— managed to completely foil that plan, and they are undoubtedly concocting up yet another. They will not stop trying to achieve their goal until they have you in their clutches, or you are dead." Dumbledore paused to take a breath, or perhaps to let it all sink in. Seto allowed his eyes to drift around the room and observe reactions to the tale, the blue orbs stilling on Yuugi and Malik in turn, who both looked ready to burst with questions: their back straight, bodies taut, eyes round and bright, lips pressed tightly together to lock in enquiries. Seto raised an eyebrow. True, he too had his own queries but he knew that he did not display this as much or as openly as either of the others.

Besides, this wanting him to be on one side of the other was nothing new. Even before Yuugi had come along, there had been corporate battles being fought between subsidiaries, each one fraught with people pestering him to join their "side"; to fight for their "cause". Then Yuugi had come along, and every single tournament he entered turned into a battle between "good" and "evil", both sides trying to win him over. It was handy, at times (because, if he played the game right, he held all the cards— and he usually played the game right), but it could get rather annoying at times, and it was happening more and more often now.

"But what was the prophecy?" blurted Yuugi, and Seto smirked. The teen had absolutely no patience.

Dumbledore turned from where he had been staring out the window the setting sun. "We do not know the exact words, but we can hazard a guess at to what one of it's biggest themes is. One would think that it has something to do with both Kaiba and Voldemort, that much is obvious, yet why be so desperate to persuade him, however possible, to join your cause if it is destined that he will? Likewise, why not just kill him if it was pre-ordained that he won't? I'd be willing to hazard a shrewd guess that the prophesy says that Seto is the one person who can either destroy or assure his chances at victory with one move, despite all other influences. In other words, even if there was another prophecy that foretold of the one who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, if Seto joined his ranks, Voldemort would still prevail."

"There is no such thing as fate," Seto said stubbornly. "We make our own destinies."

Dumbledore met and held his gaze. "Perhaps," he said. "I believe that we all have choices, yes, but that we must still, at some point in time, face that one fork which has been foretold in our lives, and though we may choose to go one way or the other, after that choice is made, there's no going back."

"Only a fool would believe such a thing," Seto said, rising from his chair. "But I suppose that I should at least attempt to make an informed decision before I make a point of damning you all. Papers, please." He stretched out a hand, and Dumbledore looked at him for several seconds before finally withdrawing two stacks of parchment from the depths of his bright blue robes and handing them to Seto, who began to pursue the documents with undaunted speed, signing here and there with a pen that he was pulled from his pocket. Finished, Seto flipped back to the beginning and read through the papers again, then nodded to himself and re-stacked the papers, handing them back to Dumbledore and frowning at the astonished looks Yuugi, Ryö and Malik were giving him. "What?" he snapped.

"How did you do that so fast?" Malik asked, and Seto smirked.

"I'm the CEO of the fastest-growing technology-related company in the world, Ishtal," he said. "Trust me, it's not all fun and games" (his smirk widened at the pun) "most of it is paperwork."

"Excellent," Dumbledore broke in, having finished checking over the forms, and waving his wand, causing the documents to vanish and two sheets of parchment to appear in their places and soar towards Seto and Mokuba. Seto caught his and eyed the charmed parchment with distaste. "You supply lists," Dumbledore said. "We'll be going out to Diagon Alley tomorrow so that everybody can purchase what they need. You can go now, I suppose; but Kaiba, please stay behind. I'd like to talk with you."

Seto grunted and stayed where he was as the others filtered past him, Mokuba hesitating for just a second in the doorway before he, too, left, softly shutting the door behind himself.

"You may sit down, if you wish," Dumbledore said, but Seto shook his head, and the other shrugged. "I hope," he said, "that I did not alarm you too much with that little speech," he said.

"It takes a lot more that come crackpot wanting to take over the world to scare me," Seto scoffed. Dumbledore met his eyes.

"Yes, yes I can see that," he murmured. Seto shivered involuntarily, thinking of the one thing that could scare him. "However," Dumbledore said, "if you have any information at all…."

"I try to stay out of Yuugi's little 'adventures'," Seto replied smoothly. "If you want to find out what your little Dark Side adversaries are looking for, I suggest you ask Ishtal or his sister. They seem to be up in their scrawny little necks in prophesies and Ancient Egyptian tablets." Blue eyes glittered, and a smirk flirted with his lips as he turned around, already halfway to the door. "Isis is curator of the Museum of Cairo."

The door swung shut behind him, and Seto raised an eyebrow at the boy with the eyes like Bill's who had been standing outside. He looked nervous, face pale and pinched, and occasionally rubbing at the oddly-shaped scar on his forehead. Briefly, Seto wondered what he had to ask Dumbledore, but quelled his curiosity and descended the stairs.

He felt those emerald eyes burning into his back as we went down, and firmly stopped a shiver before it began. Nobody knows, he told himself. And besides, it was just a kiss. Nothing more.

It doesn't mean a thing.

But he couldn't stop the funny fluttery feeling in his stomach when he thought of green eyes and red hair and an earring shaped like a dragon's fang.

-o-

Early the next day, the group from Grimmauld Place set out towards London, the thirteen of them— Seto, Mokuba, Yuugi, Malik and Ryö, Harry, Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Lupin— piling into the car, which, Seto noticed, had been magically enlarged. He also noticed that the entire car stank of burnt wool and cheap alcohol, and that everybody seemed perfectly content to allow a pile of filthy rags to drive them around. As if in accordance with his glare, the rags moved, and grubby appendages began to emerge. Watching in horrified fascination, Seto stared as a dishevelled, ginger-haired man made his appearance behind the wheel, and said, in a gravely, rumbling voice slurred by sleep, "All 'o ya inside, then?"

"Yeah, Dung," Bill replied, and Seto raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Drive away," Bill said cheerfully, sitting back; as soon as he did so, the aptly-named Dung promptly laid it into the gas pedal, and they were off. Startled, Seto took a moment to recover when a mailbox leapt out of their way, but soon settled down and made a point to un-tense his muscles, pulling the supply list Dumbledore had given him out of his pocket and beginning to pursue it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform
Fifth year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
5. One set dress robes
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags

Set Books
All fifth year students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) by Miranda Goshawk
An Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 5) by Samantha Sato

Mr Kaiba, as you are starting in year five, you will also require the following books:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) by Miranda Goshawk
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3) by Miranda Goshawk
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 1) by Samantha Sato
The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 2) by Samantha Sato
The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 3) by Samantha Sato
The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 4) by Samantha Sato

Other Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scale

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

Seto raised an eyebrow at the list, and slid it back into his pocket, feeling Bill's eyes following his movements. His own gaze flickered upwards briefly to meet the emerald one of the other, and Seto just as quickly looked away, his stomach doing flip-flops as he did so. Vaguely, Seto realized that somebody was speaking to him, and he forcibly turned his attention away from his intestines and toward the bushy-haired girl…Hermione, was it?

"…options are you taking?" She was peering up at him expectantly, a bright smile on her face, as though she felt she had found a kindred spirit.

"Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures," Seto replied.

"That's what I'm taking!" Hermione cried. Seto twitched. "We'll be in all the same classes!" she exclaimed, and Seto smirked.

"I doubt it," he said, pointing to the supply list she held clutched in her hand, "You're in sixth year. I'm in fifth." In response, Malik nearly fell out of his seat; apparently, he'd been listening in.

"What?" he exclaimed, staring incredulously at Seto, who rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Ishtal, I'm fifteen. I turn sixteen in October. Why? How old should I be?" he asked as Malik spluttered, drawing the attention of everybody else in the car.

"Sixteen! The same as us!" Malik shouted, then paused, as though considering something. "Maybe older," he added as an afterthought.

"Sorry to disappoint," Seto said dryly, and turned to stare out the window, catching Bill's gaze in the reflection before looking away.

"…Foggy out, isn't it?" Yuugi asked conversationally, obviously attempting to get people talking again. Seto snorted. They were talking about the weather?

"It's the Dementors," Lupin said to everybody's surprise, as he'd been silent for the entire ride so far, "they're breeding."

Seto raised an eyebrow, eyes locked with Bill's in the window.

"I see," Yuugi said weakly, obviously not expecting such a dismal answer to his innocent question. "How…interesting."

"You've obviously forgotten what Dementors are, Yuugi," Seto drawled, not looking away from the miserable scenery outside. "Soul-sucking, happiness-eating demons, right, Lupin?"

Seto assumed that the other nodded, because the rest of the car ride was silent, until they slowed outside a shabby-looking pub labelled with a sign that read, in cracked and peeling paint, The Leaky Cauldron. Seto pushed open his door and stepped out of the car just as it rolled to a complete stop, brushing off his (Bill's) pants and standing there, looking around, as everyone else exited the car, chatting animatedly once again.

"This way now, everybody," Mrs. Weasley called, and everyone filtered into the vacant lot behind the bar, crowding against the dustbins as Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped at the bricks on the wall they were facing. A second later, Seto did a double-take, staring. The bricks were moving! Soon, what had been a solid stone wall only moments ago had formed into a huge archway, which the rest of the group, obviously familiar with this kind of phenomena, stepped through, Seto, Mokuba, Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö hanging back. Then, Bill glanced back, frowning at Seto, and the latter growled frustrated and stormed through the arch, head held high.

"I thought you'd never come," Bill said, grinning. Seto glared back at him.

"Why? Was that little magic trick supposed to shock me?" he snarled. Bill shrugged magnanimously, and Seto's frown deepened in annoyance.

"Seto, Bill, stop flirting and hurry up!" Ronald Weasley called, and Seto jumped slightly, only relaxing when a cursory glance of the boy's facial features, and the grins of those around him, revealed that he was joking. With one last glare shot at Bill, Seto stalked off after the rest of the group, calming down slightly when Mokuba slipped up to walk beside him.

"Right," Lupin said, "first stop: Gringott's Bank."

to be continued…

Translations, etc:
Please, bear in mind that all translations (Japanese, especially) are very rough; I have a Japanese dictionary, but no conception of Japanese grammar, though I really wish I did. If you know a translation to be grammatically wrong, please correct me in a review. Thanks!
(1) Nii-sama, mezame-saseru, onegai— Japanese for Big brother, wake up, please
(2) Nani— Japanese for What?
(3) Mokuba, suru nai naku— Japanese for Mokuba, don't cry
(4) Nii-sama, iie— Japanese for Big brother, no

Notes, etc:
Technically, there was supposed to be another fifteen-to-twenty pages to this chapter, but people were bugging me, and I figured that nearing forty pages was a bit much.

Next chapter will include shopping, minor scuffles, sorting, and MAYBE first day of classes and another dream.

Also, if anybody has a stray copy of HBP, could they point me to how JKR sets up the letter for OWL grades, and when Harry gets his? AKA, the month in which he receives it, and how early on/late in the month it came, layout, etc. (My sister misplaced my copy. Damn it.)

Thanks!

Credits, etc:
Chapter title from the Backstreet Boys' CD "The Hits: Chapter One". Google to get lyrics.

Review Responses, etc:
Signed reviews have been replied to. Anonymous review responses can be viewed at my live journal (http(COLON DOUBLE-SLASH)nachzes(DOT)livejournal(DOT)com)