Author's Notes:
Happy October 2nd! Hear is your new chapter. Just a few more introductory chappies and then we can get on with the real plot. Isn't that always the best, getting to the plot!
Marik's P.O.V
-More of you.- The hat sounds pleasantly surprised as he walks into the room.
-No, you are different. You forced yourself to split. How sad.- The hat's voice is condescending, mocking my choices as though it understood my struggles.. I want to hit the stupid thing, but that requires too much energy, and the hat isn't worth it.
-Oh, but I do. You made him to escape from your own troubles. But, by doing so, you only made yourself weaker. I was just in your friend's mind, the one that you turned against. I don't see why you're so mad; you know as much about him as he knows about you, perhaps a little more even. Not only that, but the loss of your friendship is affecting him more than he lets on. More than you, in any case.- This hat — is he trying to get me to sympathize with that bastard? As if.
-Hmm. A very undesirable past.- The hat mumbles, rummaging through some of the animals strewn throughout the room. He's toying with the stuffed snake, forcibly resurfacing long buried memories that were entombed for a reason. My hands fly to my ears and I try to block out the screams. But who's screaming?
Responding to my agony, two strong and familiar arms embrace me and I feel myself relaxing into the protective cocoon they form. It reminds me that my other half is learning right from wrong the same way a child does, and that slowly he is becoming an upstanding citizen of society.
-I see. Do you realize that when your...other half...was well, terrorizing the 'Pharaoh' as you call him, he was doing it for you? He was acting as an extension of your own desires.- The hat is so calm, speaking as though his omniscience was a sure thing. It never occurred to him that his yami might have his own thoughts and desires.
-Hmm, you both are quite loyal. You to the Pharaoh, and you to your creator.- The hat mutters aloud. I try to ignore the pain that shoots through Mariku when he's so flippantly disregarded as human, but my empathy eventually wins out and I rub soothing circles into his back.
/You aren't bad, and you aren't fake. You're as real of a human as any of us./ I murmur, and strangely enough, Mariku smiles.
-Well, the split between your two souls is done; there's no reversing it now. Your souls are currently attempting to rekindle the emotions that both of you now lack. Perhaps that's the reason you guys will overreact to some things while underreact to others.- While his explanation was interesting, its demeaning tone was starting to grate on my nerves. Who did it think it was, lecturing to me like that?
-I just thought you should know.- The hat teases in a sing-songy voice.
/Thank you./I reply. Hopefully, my display of gratitude, as insincere as it may be, might persuade this hat to hurry along with this `sorting' process. It does, and I am thrown back into my body with such force that I too almost fall off the stool. Snickers ring throughout the large room as I clumsily regain my balance. A scowl crosses my face as I icily glare at those who made the mistake of laughing at me.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat proclaims proudly. I stare around the room, looking across all the clapping students. The table Ryou went to is obviously Ravenclaw, and the table glaring at me probably wouldn't be my own. That leaves the red one and the yellow one. Neither of them are obsessively loud, but there is a table beckoning me towards it. That's my cue.
"Kaiba, Seto." The tall, thin lipped woman, who seems to be the overseer, calls. Seto strides confidently toward the small stool, putting the hat on unfazed in the slightest.
Seto's P.O.V
-You're not like your friends, are you?- The hat questions. I scoff.
"Of course not; in case you haven't noticed, I do not house 5,000 year old spirits in the back of my mind." It comes out as a grunt, knowing that the prying eyes of the students before me are watching my every move.
-Hmm...I see greed, and an unquenchable thirst for power, but at the same time you are haunted by the seeds of your past.- The hat whispers, teasing me, mocking me. I try to shrug his uncomfortably acute accusations off, but as the hat continues its search, I am blasted with memories long forgotten.
Brought to the forefront of my mind is a picture of a little boy and a family. They didn't have much, but they had each other, and for that, they are happy. How I came to this conclusion I did not know, as the pictures are silhouetted, and everyone's' faces except mine are hidden within the shadows of my memory. I try pushing them away, trying to divert the train of thought, finding any way to resist.
"Shut up about my past! Just place me in a damn house already." I say through clenched teeth. The hat simply chuckles.
-Now, here's where the problem comes in. It's quite obvious that you aren't a pureblood, half-blood, or even muggle born, so you miss the biggest requirement. Unless, hmm, maybe I can go based on your past incarnation's family, because in that case, your father was the- oops, I can't tell you that.- The hat catches itself. I'm not stupid; I know the hat is baiting me. Nevertheless, my curiosity is piqued and I take the bait.
"My father was what? Hat, don't make me your enemy. I can and will destroy you if need be." I know the threat is unnecessarily harsh, and if the need does arise, I wouldn't know what to do. But the threat felt right, and the hat needs to understand that I would do everything in my power to carry it out.
If the hat could smirk, it probably would, -Sure.- The article of clothing drawls out, as if mocking me and the fact that it knows every single one of my thoughts.
Hermione's P.O.V
"SLYTHERIN!" The room rings with that cruel, despised, word. I had always known to not judge a book by its cover though, and similarly I know better than to label this Kaiba as a complete prick just because he's a Slytherin.
Generally, I don't fall head over heels for guys, but this one: he's intelligent, rich, good-looking, and from my conversations with him, he doesn't seem like Malfoy or those other rotten Slytherin. He might be cruel, but it's clinical and professional, characteristic of a CEO instead of a pompous, pampered prat. But Seto?
But what bothers me most is not that the man is in Slytherin, its how he is in Slytherin. There is something just so ironic about it.
"How can he be a Slytherin? He's not even a wizard!" It is Ron who points out this obvious flaw in logic. He's not a wizard, nor is he a pureblood, one of the most important aspects of being in Slytherin. But what does this mean about the man now calmly walking to the green table. And for once, a deep desire to be on better terms with the snakes blooms within me.
"Motou, Yugi." Professor McGonagall continues, her body relaxing as her job is nearing its completion. All of us relax a bit, knowing that he is the last person on the list.
The small boy with black, gold, and purple spiky hair stumbles to the seat, staring at the stool as though it'll jump out and attack him. His movements are slow and deliberate. He pulls the hat into his hands and quickly takes a seat on the stool, in a swift movement the hat is on his head. He stares out at the crowd, but his eyes are unseeing as the bright amethyst eyes dulls to a dull mulberry.
Yugi's P.O.V
The hat must've dragged me into my soul room, but when I look around, it isn't there. The hat leaves me alone, allowing me to look around the room that is practically a second home to me.
Toys are everywhere; scattered, in neat rows, piled on top of one another: basically, a mess. I blush, knowing that the room is an extension of me. I've never imagined myself to be so childish. Reclining against the bed, I close my eyes. Off in the distance, I can hear the scratchy thump-thump-thump of what I assume is the hat crossing the hallway.
The door swings open and in stroll both Yami and the hat. Both of them look serene and as though they have been friends for thousands of years.
/Hi, Yami./ I greet the man casually as he takes in the room.
\You remodeled, aibou.\ Yami notes, and I blush. The room reflects me, and as I grow and change, so does the room. Last time Yami had been here, the room had been so crowded with toys that he had barely enough room to walk. Now though, the room was neater, and the pictures on my walls aren't just of me and the gang. In fact, there is now a picture of just us hikaris.
-Hmm, there is a strong bond between you two, and I think it extends more than you two realize. Your bond is the strongest that I've seen today.- The hat praises. At this, I smile at my yami. -But, I believe you already know that.-
Yami smirks confidently as he strides to my bed and pulls me into his lap. The action in itself is nothing out of the ordinary. My yami has always taken to random bouts of affection. However, in front of the hat, it feels like something that should be reserved for a more private setting, and a scarlet crosses my cheeks.
-Time and time again, you risk your life to save those around you. You've traveled the world on missions, facing people...- The hat cuts of mid-sentence, and had it been human, it might've paled or passed out. -The safety of Hogwarts.- The hat mumbles to itself, lost in its own little world.
I watch patiently with Yami as the hat continues muttering to itself. I turn to my yami in question, but all he offers is a shrug as he slips his arm around me.
-You guys were probably the easiest compared to your other dual-soul friends.- Finally, the hat turns back to us, watching us through its creases. Yami releases me and waves goodbye before I return back to the outside world.
"GRIFFINDOR!"
The hall erupts into cheers as I am shot back into my body.
I slowly push myself off the stool, not at all bothered by the raucous cheers. My walk is calm and steady, unlike my former erratic self as I make my way to the red cloaked table. Harry waves to me, his hand swishing around the air almost violently as he motions me to take a seat.
Harry's P.O.V
I motion for Yugi to come sit by us, hoping a familiar face will help ease the transition into his new school. The boy appears shy, and I'd hate to leave him to the vultures.
"Hermione, they've all been put into different houses." I whisper between all the applause. Hermione nods in indifference; does she not grasp the gravity of this situation? Sure, I have friends in all the houses (aside from Slytherin...the gits), but my closest friends are in my own house. What'll happen to their friendships once the influence of their own respective houses gets to them?
Yugi slides into a seat across from me, flashing me a small smile.
As the last applause dies down, Dumbledore decides to stand, and unanimously,, everyone falls silent. Looking at Yugi across the table, I am slightly annoyed to see that he, unlike the rest of our table, isn't watching Dumbledore. Instead, the boy fiddles with the puzzle around his neck, unaware of Dumbledore's importance. I turn, watching as Dumbledore continues his speech. Until I see her, that woman from my trial. How impudent of her! The woman had the gall to take over Dumbledore's speech. Irked, I can't help but feel Malfoy is smirking at the other end of the hall.
Ryou's P.O.V
Although I am not one to ignore authority, I cannot tolerate this...this megalomaniacal despot. Professor Umbridge: rude, harsh, and unforgiving. I had simply asked her for help, and she had been so rude Bakura needed to intervene. Now, I have a special tattoo carved into my hand—a perfect reminder of my yami's lack of manners. 'I will not speak back.' The words are engraved into my hand, a parting gift as obnoxious as the woman herself.
Bakura, the bellicose hot-head he is, only appraises he mark as a sign of his greatness. I feel him smirking in the back of my mind and I heave a heavy sigh. An unexpected bout of giggles eclipses my sigh, and I look up to see a couple of girls staring back at me. I flash them a small smile before turning back to the carving on my hand, and mentally sigh. Again. I'll admit, the pen intrigued me. The ability to write in one's blood was...interesting. Not that he had enjoyed the pain or seeing his own blood appear on the paper, but still, the pen, and whatever charm or hex was placed on it, was intriguing.
\You do?\ Bakura asks, cocking an eyebrow.
/Yes./
\I thought my hikari was squeamish.\ My yami teases. Another smile tickles my jaw.
/Not at all, 'Kura./ My yami chuckles and my smile changes from into one of wry. But of course, it is at that moment that I finally notice the food in front of me, and I can't help but start filling up my plate, not even pretending to be modest. The moment I start to draw back, the food suddenly disappears, and I startle, looking around to see if anyone else noticed.
More giggling disrupts my search, and I turn to see the same couple of girls still staring at me.
"What's your name again?" The leader says...giggling. Bakura and I unanimously decide that girls are strange and that giggling is overrated.
Beaming at the girls, I answer, "Ryou Bakura."
And like in every cheesy romance or manga ever, the table erupts in aws. And I, being the shy, unsure type, finds my cheeks heating up.
Another collective "aw" choruses around the table, and I become extremely self-conscious. I put my empty plate on the table and hastily sit down, hands in my lap, head down.
"Oh, don't be so down! You're too cute to be sad!" They sound like fangirls. Why do I always have fangirls?
"Stop it! He's shy." Luna comes to my rescue and I force myself to not heave a sigh of relief.
"Oh come on, Looney, your friend's so cute! I mean, did you hear his accent? Half-British and half-whatever it is! Look at him! Don't you just want to squeeze his cheeks?" A girl in the middle of the pack squeals. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear Bakura laughing at my torture, and I start shooting mental darts at him to stop him. He only laughs harder.
"How old are you?" Another girl asks, actually climbing onto the table to get closer to me. How has no teacher noticed this yet?
"Fourteen...I turn fifteen tomorrow." I answer. My response is met with a gasp, then aws, and I am suddenly starting to regret ever acknowledging these girls now.
"Aw! You should've been in our year. The fifth years won't appreciate you as much." Some of the girls coo. I try to smile back at them, but all I can come up with is a weak grimace. Bakura chuckles \Yes, so you can be molested by tiny girls.\ I try not to laugh, but I am finally able to pull off a real smile for my adoring fans.
"You should do that more often! You look sooo hot when you do!" Some girl exclaims, and I flush again, my head dropping straight back down. I'm going to be gay by the end of this year.
"See, now he's going back to being shy again." Another girl whines, then lowering her voice thinking I can't hear her. "And I wanted to see his pretty eyes." She pouts. I roll my pretty eyes.
"Ladies..."
Marik's P.O.V
The people I sit with are so freakishly nice. Not too nice to annoy me, but nice enough to accept me and are make me feel welcomed and loved, as if I had never committed all those crimes against humanity. And I belong, unlike with the friendship gang, where I am a stranger on the edge of their little bubble, here, there is no bubble, there are just people everywhere, who are nice, and accept me. But I can't enjoy all these wonderful people because of what that damned hat said (and the continuous aws coming from Ryou's table as though the boy is actually cute or innocent).
I can't help glancing over at Ryou at his table, surrounded by girls, with his head down pretending to be all innocent and such.
\Ra, you keep obsessing over that. Just deal with the fact that the kid doesn't like his past and refuses to tell you why. If he didn't know your past already, would you tell him?\ Mariku asks exasperatedly. I ignore him momentarily, glancing back at my ex-best friend.
/Why do you care?/ I inquire. Had Mariku been tangible, I would've glared at him.
\Because Hikari-pretty, information is power, and I still strive for power./ Mariku jokes; I can't help but snigger at his Bakura-like answer.
\Fine! If you aren't going to befriend him then shut up and deal with the fact that you'll never learn his secrets.\ Mariku snaps.
/Fine, right after this...dinner, I'll talk to him./ I concede.
"Hem hem, ladies..." Professor Umbridge had cut off her own speech in order to glare in Ryou's general direction.
The called upon ladies turn and stare at the woman, surprised that they were even able to keep up their fawning for so long "I am trying to inform the student body of what is expected this year. Will you please keep quiet?"
"Well, from what I've inferred, you are here because you want to overrun the school and turn the children into a bunch of mindless drones that you can control. Am I right?" Bakura asks cockily.
The whole room turns to face the yami, the girls in particular staring at him as though he is the sexiest man in the world. Of course, that only means they have yet to see me.
\Of course, hikari.\ Mariku taunts.
"Thief, apologize to that woman now." Yami yells. The woman in pink nods in agreement.
"Why should I, Pharaoh? I'm not the type to conform to the government, especially when the government has larger sticks up their asses than Kaiba." Bakura retorts.
"Hem hem, Mr. Bakura, would you like another detention?" Professor Umbridge asks, smiling sweetly as though she has won. Apparently she doesn't know Bakura well enough, because you almost never win with Bakura.
"Gladly." He responds, throwing his hands up for emphasis. The room is filled with gasps; everyone fears the dreaded detention. Everyone. Except, apparently, Bakura. Even I gasp, though more to follow the crowd than actual fear, to be honest. Umbridge takes a step back, watching the whitenette carefully.
Bakura keeps his smirk, knowing that he has won. But even so, I can see the yami twitching, and I know that the pink lady has gotten something over him.
One last twitch and Bakura is gone, replaced by timid ol' Ryou. Seeing the threat disappear, Yami relinquishes control to Yugi.
"Mr. Bakura, Mr. Motou, detention tomorrow night. Be in my office at 6:00pm, and fifty points deducted from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." Umbridge sounds only too happy to be docking points from both houses.
A quiet "aw," is audible from both tables, and both Yugi and Ryou's heads drop down in shame. The girls flock around them, hoping to comfort the wounded boys.
The woman continues her long, agonizing speech, and eventually sits down. Dumbledore then comes up and the food reappears. All the food looks absolutely scrumptious, and I must look like a little kid at a candy store.
The girls look back at me and start oohing and awing once again. It's quite annoying really, but I ignore them in favor of filling my plate with food, stacking it to the tippy top! I mean, look at all the vegetarian options!
Once I have filled my plate, I start devouring my food, heedless of the multitude of glance sent my way. Ra, don't they have their own lives to live?
Author's Notes:
Um…all I have to say is review.
Ooh, and I'll put my disclaimer down here: I own nothing (probably not even the idea 0.o)!
