Hello everyone, I am back with the latest chapter of The Bloody Ashikabi!
IMPORTANT/ PLEASE READ BEFORE SKIPPING TO THE CHAPTER: due to my work, I will be in India from about the middle of February to the middle of March, so I will likely be unable to upload any more chapters for the next two months. Don't worry, I am not abandoning the story, but I'd rather warn my readers before suddenly skipping two months.
Now you can go on, and enjoy!
I don't own Harry Potter or Sekirei
27
Meeting Harry Potter
A sweaty Harry cuddled next to a contented, and naked, Akitsu, reflecting back on what had happened in the last few hours. While he was still furious, he had calmed down somewhat, several rounds of passionate sex with his loving Sekirei helping him free his mind from the burning rage that had clouded his thoughts ever since he had set foot in the castle. Now that he was calmer, he was ashamed to realize that he had been far too angry for it to be normal, and he had tried scanning his mental defenses to see if something had not happened to make him lose control like that. And something had indeed happened. Apparently, he had underestimated the feelings Voldemort had pertaining to Dumbledore. While he knew that the Dark Lord had respected the old man for his power and knowledge, he also despised him with a passion for several reasons.
The first was that, of course, as the "Leader of the Light", the Headmaster had been a thorn in Voldemort's side for the entire duration of his campaign of terror. Even if the old man was a softhearted fool who refused to kill people, he had sent quite a few high-ranking Death Eaters to Azkaban, cutting the Dark Lord's resources enough so that it severely irritated him. Even in the political area, the laws that his followers, chief among them being Lucius Malfoy, had tried to have passed, and that would have helped him tremendously in his recruitment and war effort, had been thwarted due to his old teacher's manipulations.
This was the second reason Voldemort hated Dumbledore. The old fool had been incredibly powerful, with a power inside and outside Britain that would have allowed him to bring much needed changes to the magical society, but had he done anything with it? Absolutely not, he had simply sat back and watched their world spiral deeper and deeper into its' willful complacency, leaving them unaware of the rising threat the non-magical folk were becoming. Voldemort was not a fool, while he despised and hated non-magicals, he knew very well what they could do, and how urgent it was becoming to prepare their society for when they would be discovered. Of course, if things had gone his way, wizards would have enslaved the mundanes, but he was nonetheless right in thinking that the magicals would soon no longer be able to hide, and that something needed to be done to prepare them for when it happened. Harry highly doubted that things would go well when people discovered that there was another civilization hiding within their own, one where the citizens didn't mind wiping their minds, or considered them animals. All of this was true, and Dumbledore had had the power to change things, but was too much of a coward to do so.
Thirdly, Dumbledore was the one who had first met Tom Riddle, and as such, he had known that the young wizard's living conditions at the orphanage were far from ideal, yet he had done nothing to help him, instead sending him back each summer, despite the teen's pleas. Harry could sympathize with that, the old man had certainly had more than enough clout to have Tom placed with a magical family, one where the teen would be loved. In a way, Dumbledore was responsible for Tom slipping to the Dark, by denying him the opportunity to experience love for himself. Sure, he didn't prevent the teen from interacting with his peers at Hogwarts, but living in a boarding school and in a family were two different things.
Now, since Tom's feelings were already quite vivid, adding Harry's personal hatred of the man, plus his anger at being forced to participate in the Tournament unless he wished to lose his magic, meant that it was something of a miracle that he had not murdered the old idiot on the spot. However, the fact that he couldn't afford to kill the man had only made him angrier, and after that, learning that his Sekirei had allowed Lily Potter, the last person he wanted to know about his past, about the circumstances in which he had been found, had been the last straw. All the feelings bottled behind his carefully erected mental defenses had broken free at the same time, overwhelming him and leaving him searching for a target to release his anger on, and those had been his Sekirei.
Truthfully, he was going to tell Homura and Karasuba that he would lift their punishments, although in the latter's case, he was going to make it clear that if she wanted to have sex, she better be irreproachable, lest he spend his time with Akitsu. He knew that the Black Sekirei never intended to hurt him, well at least not enough so that he would be furious, nonetheless he needed to make her understand that they weren't in Japan anymore. While MBI could erase a lot of her killings or blunders, they were now in England, in a society were bigots were the norm, not the exception. All it would take was her killing the wrong person and they would have the Ministry breathing down their necks, and while he was confident that they could do little due to being mainly self-important morons, wizards could be sneaky as Hell. They needed only slip them a single cursed item, and they could be dead, suffer from amnesia, or whatever the curse was designed to inflict them with.
'Alright, Harry-chan, I'll be more careful.'
Blinking, he carefully chose his next words.
'Karasuba, how long have you been spying on my thoughts?'
He could almost see the grin the Black Sekirei was sporting when she answered, her voice smug:
'Since you went to fuck Akitsu-chan. I mean, you said I couldn't have sex, not that I couldn't watch. Besides, you haven't done anything you haven't done with me, and it's not like Akitsu-chan has anything I haven't seen yet.'
He should have known, he realized, that Karasuba, despite her punishment, would still find ways to annoy him, and would probably do so until he at least lifted the ban on violence. As she had so elegantly said herself, she could live without sex, since she could "visit Father Fingers", but bloodshed was pretty much a part of her, so she was much more likely to protest against the ban on violence than to raise a fuss about not being able to have sex.
'Although it's a bit disappointing to use my fingers when I have you…It's certainly a lot more pleasurable and entertaining to have sex than to masturbate…'
He sighed. It was a good thing that he, unlike most teenagers, had some control on his sex drive, otherwise he'd probably be screwing his Sekirei silly almost constantly, what with Akitsu always being eager, and Karasuba who'd pounce on him whenever she felt like it.
Shaking his head, he focused on the subject he had wanted to speak about with his first Sekirei.
'I know you like screwing with people, Karasuba, but be careful. British wizards, especially the Purebloods, are both pigheaded, and arrogant. When we'll have to deal with them, it won't be by slaughtering them, although quite a few would deserve it, but rather by destroying their reputations. We can't afford to make too much enemies here, not when the Purebloods are the one who run this country. We can get away with things so long as they are within the law, but we have to be careful not to do anything that is clearly against the law.
And before you start complaining about not being able to kill people, remember that in this country, they still authorize duels to the death, and maiming your opponents. So if a moron bothers you, just challenge them to an honor duel and play on their pride.'
'Right, play on their pride before maiming them. Alright, Harry-chan!'
Before they could continue their conversation, there was loud popping sound, and Harry reflexively swung his sword at the intruder, who 'eeped' and disappeared, only to reappear several feet away. Said intruder happened to be a House Elf, who, upon noticing that Harry was naked, 'eeped' again, and looked away.
"Mopsy is sorry, Harry Potter sir! Mopsy didn't know Harry Potter sir was busy!"
He narrowed his eyes. He had thought that the Room of Requirement would allow him to have some measure of peace, but it seemed that the annoying creatures that were House Elves were still able to find him. He held no love for the small beings, even if he was at least cordial with them. They were just too pitiful for him to feel anything but displeasure at their presence, and their high-pitched voices and ridiculous appearances didn't help matters either. He was much more used to the zashiki-warashi of his house, who were at least human-like, and could speak without making a mistake every three words.
"What do you want?" he growled, angry at being disturbed in the one place he had hoped to be in peace.
"Headmaster Dumbledore sir says it is dinner time, and that Harry Potter sir should be coming down to eat in the Great Hall."
-Break-
The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement, the students from all three schools discussing the events that had taken place earlier that day, events that thanks to the famous Hogwarts' rumor mill, were known but almost everyone present, those who weren't aware of them being promptly informed by their classmates. The fact that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had suddenly reappeared after over a decade of absence, was something that would undoubtedly make the first page on many European newspapers the next day. Even if he was not as famous in Europe than he was in Britain, the fact was that he had somehow vanquished a Dark Lord at the age of one, as well as survived a curse known to be impossible to block, and was known to be instantly fatal the moment it so much as brushed against a person. Such a thing was more than enough to make him famous, but he was also the Potter Heir, and while the family was not the richest of Britain, they certainly weren't poor either.
Many wondered what he looked like, as the descriptions given by those who had actually been present when he had stormed the entrance differed greatly from what was expected. From what most had come to expect, due to what was known about the Boy-Who-Lived, was a clone of James Potter with Lily Potter's eyes, a combination that left most teenage witches starry eyed, as the Potter Patriarch was quite handsome, and his wife's eyes were of the purest green one could ever hope to see. Their child would undoubtedly be extremely good looking, yet from what had been reported, he looked nothing like he was supposed to. Not only did he have long hair, something scarcely seen on wizards in recent times, but said hair was a uniform grey, hardly a normal coloring for a boy in his mid-teens. He also, apparently, looked several years older than what he was supposed to, leading to rumors that he had trained harshly, using Time-Turners to train faster than what was natural, and as such had aged prematurely.
Another popular topic on that evening were the women who accompanied him. One of them had clearly slapped Dumbledore, THE most powerful wizard in Europe, something that had never been seen before. And, to add insult to injury, the woman seemed to have been a Muggle. Why, the very idea that a Muggle of all people had slapped the most respected wizard of Britain was galling, and quite a few Purebloods had made mental notes to tell the Boy-Who-Lived to better choose his friends. That woman aside, the other three were no less interesting, since one had apparently cast Fiendfyre, or a fire spell closely resembling it, with little trouble, despite the fact that outside of the Incendio spell, there were few known fire spells, and that none had the same effects. This had roused the curiosity of the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins, the first since they liked to know as much as possible about everything, the latter because being able to use unknown spells could make all the difference in a power struggle.
However, out of the four women, it was the two last that interested everyone the most. The first had been aptly compared to Bellatrix Lestrange, who was unanimously recognized as one of the most powerful Dark Witches of recent times, as well as an extremely dangerous person, who took great pleasure in tormenting her victims. To have someone who had the same unsettling grin on their face, as well as an evident proficiency for violence, made quite a few uneasy, although a few witches wanted to see if the woman was truly as dangerous as what most made her seem like. Finally, the last woman, the one who had attracted the attention of most wizards present at the time, was the one who had stood submissively behind the Boy-Who-Lived, and who wore clothes that did little to hide her impressive figures. Most wizards hardly had any opportunity to see some female flesh, as such the fact that the brunette's clothing allowed a good view of her generous cleavage had triggered the hormones of quite a few horny teenagers.
"Now, now! Please, quiet down! Thank you. Now, as you must have heard, earlier today, we received the visit of an unusual guest. Although his claims might have seemed dubious, after careful checking, it is my pleasure to inform you that our very own Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter is in our walls as we speak!" smiled Dumbledore, extending his arms grandly, as if to encompass the entirety of the Great Hall.
Cheers erupted from all four tables, although the ones from the Slytherin table were noticeably subdued, not surprising considering that quite a few students had seen some of their family members shipped to Azkaban, and those who hadn't, had parents who had clearly told them that Harry Potter was responsible for tarnishing their reputation. Of course, they still clapped, as not doing so would show a lack of national pride in front of their foreign guests, but they were not quite sure of what to make of the news. True, Harry Potter was responsible for the downfall of the Dark Lord, however he was still a very powerful ally to have economically and politically, what with him being the Heir to the Potter fortune, as well as their seats on the Wizenmagot. Quite a few already had plans of befriending the teen, hoping to use his fame to further their own goals. It was what Slytherins did, after all.
"Now, I am sure that you are all very curious about Harry's life, but I must insist on asking you not to pry, as he does not wish to speak about his past, and will react badly to any attempt to have him speak about it. I must also ask you to not use his nickname, as he has shown quite the distaste for it."
Now this drew the attention of the students like nothing else, and hushed whispers could be heard all throughout the Great Hall. After all, why would their national hero show a dislike for his moniker? It was a title given to him for his actions, one that separated him from them, the "normal" students, something most would die for. A few people, mainly muggleborns, seemed to understand and accept the Headmaster's words, however the immense majority did not understand or even heed the old man's counsel. After all, why would a hero dislike speaking about his life? Anyone who had accomplished what he had, who had the same amount of fame as he had, would rather use said fame for themselves, and would bask in their reputation and what it would allow them.
"Sir, where is he now?" asked a student, a Gryffindor sixth year.
The old man smiled, although for those who knew him enough, they could see that the smile was rather forced, and the few who had been made aware of how the meeting between him and their national hero had gone could guess why. While not largely known at the moment, it would probably spread like wildfire that Harry Potter seemed to detest the aged wizard, and hold him with the highest contempt. The fact that he seemed to care little for Hogwarts' rules, or social norms, did not help matters either, as magic users were a very stiff bunch, who heavily disliked when someone did not follow their social rules. And Dumbledore was understandably wary of having the Boy-Who-Lived, whom was rumored to be the only one able to succeed him, destroy his chances at creating a successful network of friends.
"He should be here any moment, I have-"
"Dumbledore, next time you wish to drag me here to make yourself look good in front of your guests, use a Patronus, will you? I almost killed the damn House Elf when she popped up unannounced." Growled an irritated voice, making everyone look at the entrance of the Great Hall.
Standing there, his hands in his pockets, was a tall young man, who seemed in his late teens, with long, grey hair, and mismatched eyes. He was clothed entirely in black, and, most importantly, he was not clad in robes or any clothes present in wizardry fashion. Instead, he wore black pants and boots, a simple, turtleneck black shirt clinging to his thin frame. At his hip, the sheathe of a strangely thin and short sword could be seen, showing that he was armed.
Next to him, grinning darkly, was the woman that many had compared to Bellatrix, and those who had seen photographs of the insane Dark Witch could certainly see the resemblance, both in the way she held herself, and in the way her face contorted in a sadistic parody of a smirk. She wore the same clothes than she had been rumored to wear, showing her legs and a good part of her thighs, although few males felt aroused by it. The air she had, told them that if they ever tried anything with her, she would cut off their genitals, stuff them into their mouth, and shove the sword sheathed at her side up their asses.
Standing on the young man's other side, the woman with spiky grey hair looked rather uncomfortable with the attention she was getting, and her fingers were twitching every few seconds, showing that she was most likely refraining from taking out her wand. Like her companion, she was a beauty, with soft traits that drew an elegant and refined face, although she lacked the sadistic smile. Instead, her face was set in a confused frown as she glanced around, seemingly takin as much as she could in. She was clad in the same black pants, white shirt, and dark coat combo that she had when arriving earlier, clothes that showed she was either a Muggle, or a witch who did not like wizardry fashion.
Finally, the last woman, the brunette, was standing behind the young man, her hands folded in front of her, her head held low, as if waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Her posture, coupled with her clothes, allowed for a good view of her shoulders and a substantial part of her cleavage, something most wizards present took notice of. The witches, however, were scowling at the woman's choice of attire, as it was, for most, provocative, and the chains that held the cloth together and wrapped around the woman's neck, seemed to make them think she was not the one who had chosen her current clothes.
"Ah, Harry, welcome!" smiled Dumbledore, gesturing to the staff's table. "It is dinner time, why don't you come here and eat with us? I am sure you have very interesting stories to share."
Many of the Hogwarts' students gaped at that. It was unheard of for a teenager to sit at the staff's table, as it was reserved to adult guests, or the members of the staff themselves. By offering Harry to sit with them, the Headmaster was telling everyone that he considered Harry not as a student, but as a peer, something the Slytherins did not miss, considering the hushed conversations the old man's words sparked.
Outside of the Slytherin table, those words made the females who had already been sizing the Boy-Who-Lived like a piece of meat swoon even harder, as their idol apparently was acknowledged by the Headmaster himself. Most were already planning on how they could approach him, regardless of the women who were with him. After all, what did they have to lose? At worst, they would be turned down, at best, they might have a shot at building a relationship with a handsome, famous, and obviously powerful young man, a catch that didn't show up often in Hogwarts.
"No, thank you. I'm just here to tell you we will be eating in the kitchens."
The reply left everyone staring at Harry in shock. He had been offered an honor that most would do anything to get, and he was turning it down?
Dumbledore's smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure, although for those who were close to him, they could see his smile was forced. The fact that both Potters teachers were absent had not been missed, and many had begun wondering if they didn't have a falling out with the aged wizard, spreading rumors that they were thinking about retiring and taking their children with them. Needless to say, the old man would rather quell those rumors before they made it to the ears of people like Rita Skeeter, as she would undoubtedly publish a scathing article, one that might be the last straw for the Board of Governors.
"Now, Harry, my boy, why would you want to do that? I am sure you will find that us teachers have normal conversations, so you won't be bored, I can assure you." He chuckled, and many students laughed a bit, relieved that their assumptions had been proven wrong.
"Now, now, Dumb-chan…Harry-chan didn't want to sit with you, because if he did, he would probably kill you before the end of the meal, not because you might bore him." Smiled the grey-haired woman, her smile turning sweet, her hand grasping the hilt of her sword. "And for your information," she added, before the old man could reply, "Harry-chan isn't your boy, he is ours." She purred, putting an arm around her companion's neck, her fingers trailing his cheek.
Jaws dropped at the casual admission, and at the way the woman was literally draping herself over the Savior of the Wizardry world, unashamedly caressing him in the middle of the Great Hall. Most of the teenage witches were quickly rethinking their plans to approach the Boy-Who-Lived, as it was clear that trying to entice him like they did their teenage male counterparts wasn't going to work. If this, admittedly, beautiful woman was truly as close as she seemed to be with Harry Potter, then just empathizing their womanly attributes and wearing makeup wouldn't be enough to get his attention. A few already planned to order or prepare some Love Potions, as it was clear that their chances had just taken a drastic drop.
"Will you stop this? You are in the middle of the Great Hall, and such…such inappropriate displays should be kept to the confines of your quarters!" scowled McGonagall.
"Don't be such a stick in the mud, pussy." Grinned the grey-haired woman, "Just because you haven't gotten some in over fifty years doesn't mean I have to refrain from having Harry scratch my itch."
Silence. Absolute silence. Nobody could believe that the woman had just taunted the Deputy Headmistress about her lack of a sex life, not that any were interested in knowing about it, the woman was older than their mothers, and they dared not imagine anything about her in those situations, lest they need an Obliviator to remove the image.
Still, the taunt seemed to have met its' objective, as the already scowling Scottish woman was now obviously furious, and seemed to be ready to curse the grey-haired woman. Then again, it had clearly been the newcomer's goal, as she seemed to be delighted by the twitch that had developed in the Transfiguration teacher's eyebrows.
"Subtle, Karasuba, real subtle." Groaned the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Why thank you, Harry-chan!" purred the woman, "You're the one who said that if I wanted to kill someone I should have them ask for an honor duel first."
By now many were looking at those seated next to them, hoping to ask them if they were hearing things or had gone insane, only for them to be doing the same thing and look as confused as they were. When did the Boy-Who-Lived begin to associate himself with people who talked about murdering people like it was something they did every day? He was supposed to be the symbol of the Light, to preach forgiveness and second chances! This Harry Potter seemed entirely unconcerned with others' lives!
Coughing, Dumbledore tried to diffuse the tension that had begun to permeate the air, since his Deputy Headmistress looked ready to whip out her wand and begin cursing Karasuba, despite the fact that it would have given a disastrous image of Hogwarts' and its' staff to their foreign guests. It was rather obvious that Harry, true to what he had demonstrated in his office earlier, had absolutely no wish to mingle with his peers, and that any who tried to have a conversation with him would be shot down brutally and clearly. Nonetheless, he needed Harry to form bonds, otherwise he would never be able to convince him to stay in Britain, and when Voldemort returned they would be doomed.
"Well then, if you do not wish to sit with us old men and women, do take a seat at one of the Houses' tables. Our guests from France are seated with the Ravenclaws, and our Durmstrang friends are seated with the Slytherins."
At the Headmaster's words, the Boy-Who-Lived just shrugged.
"Sure, but next time I'm eating in the kitchens. Don't want people to stick their noses in my business."
"Mister Pot-Minaka!" finally scowled McGonnagal, who seemed to have reached the end of her wits, as her Scottish accent had begun to make itself known, which only happened when she was terribly upset. "Show some respect! Yae cannot do as you wish here!"
Immediately, those present could pick up…something, something incredibly dark and foul, and shrieks could be heard as what seemed to be a kind of toxic miasma began to seep from the Boy-Who-Lived's body. As some of the teachers fumbled for their wands, and that Dumbledore was already in the process of waving his own, the miasma seemed to condense into a shape, forming a skeletal mask with burning eyes, black hair moving in an invisible breeze, a sound like the howls of the damned assaulting the ears of those present. By then only the strongest-minded individuals were still somewhat fine, as their weaker-minded peers had fainted, soiled themselves, or were clutching their neighbors in terror.
"Really? I cannot do as I wish here?" asked the grey-haired wizard, glaring at the now ashen-pale teacher, the Mask mimicking his actions, "But you were the ones responsible for dragging me here against my will. I will stay here, but do not expect me to follow the same rules your students do. Remember, I am emancipated, and an adult in the eyes of the Ministry. As such, I do not have to follow the asinine and outdated rules set for your students. Am I clear?"
Only silence answered the angry teen, as too many were either unconscious, terrified, or simply shocked to offer an answer. Only two people, the French Champion and a Hermione Granger, seemed somewhat unaffected by what they were seeing, although more so the Ravenclaw than the blonde, as the latter had gone deathly pale, but at least she was not trembling like a leaf, as so many of her companions were.
Growing irritated, the Boy-Who-Lived growled:
"I said: AM. I. CLEAR? Are you going to answer or spend your time gaping like idiots?"
"Harry, my boy, what is that?" slowly asked Dumbledore, his wand already in his hand. While he didn't know what kind of spell the teen was using, he could tell at a glance that it was Dark, Darker than most uses of magic he had seen. It was as if he was drawing on his darker emotions, mixing them with his magic, and releasing it in an aura that formed the dreadful mask floating above him.
"Hmm? What may you be talking about?" smiled the teen, while the mask seemed to suddenly increase in size, a howling, raging wind audible in the background, carrying screams of suffering. There was something fundamentally wrong with the smile plastered on then Boy-Who-Lived's face, for despite how pleasant it seemed, it bore the promise of untold amounts of pain for those who would dare speak against him.
Before anyone could answer though, the spiky grey-haired woman sighed, looking at the teen with something akin to exasperated fondness, and a hint of nervousness.
"Harry, could you…could you stop that please?"
The woman's voice was trembling, and she seemed extremely uncomfortable. Most would have scoffed at her words, since it seemed clear that the Boy-Who-Lived listened to no one but himself, but they were surprised when he huffed and the mask disappeared, fading from view as if it had never existed, the oppressing aura it had brought vanishing similarly.
"Sure, so, what do you want to eat?"
-Break-
Dumbledore stared speculatively at the group seating at the Ravenclaw table, although they were given a wide berth by both Ravenclaws and Beauxbatons students after Harry's earlier display. Quite frankly, such a display only convinced him that the Chosen One had been corrupted by the Horcrux inside his scar, for no mere teenager should have been able to cast whatever spell had created the Mask from earlier. He shivered. While not as bad as a Dementor's aura, the effects of the Mask were not to be underestimated, as it had made the entire student population quiver in fear, and with them, the entire staff, and the foreign Headmaster and Headmistress.
What interested him was the fact that Harry, despite apparently not willing to listen to authority figures, did listen to his companions, something that was in sharp contrast with what Tom had done with his own followers in his time at Hogwarts. Of course, the future Dark Lord had listened to his peers' advice, however, he would hardly have bothered to listen to them if he couldn't have earned himself a favor for it. It showed that despite being fiercely independent, Harry did have some attachments to people, although unfortunately it seemed so far that he was content with the few he had and was in no hurry to create more bonds.
"Albus, w'at are you going to do about zis?" asked Olympe Maxime, the half-giantess following his line of sight and scowling. "Are you really going 'im to do as 'e wishes?"
"My dear Madame, Harry is right on the fact that he was forced to come here. Had he been a student at Hogwarts, I can assure you that I would have made sure to impress upon him the need to listen to his elders." He smiled, turning to look at the taller woman. "Unfortunately, not only was he forced to come here, but he also is, beyond a doubt, an emancipated adult, and as such, there is very little I can do about this so long as he respects the law."
"Still, he is a British citizen, surely you can tell him to behave? Or has the mighty Dumbledore fallen so far from grace that the loss of his positions in the government is enough to have you tuck your tail between your legs?" quipped Karkaroff, sipping on a glass of Firewhiskey.
"Karkaroff! Zere is no need to be rude!" scowled the French Headmistress, glowering at the much shorter man.
"I am not being rude, I am being realistic. He did not get where he is by smiling and letting others walk all over him. And I highly doubt that he "abused" the power his positions gave him to deal with all the problems he faced."
Turning to look at the half-giantess, he added:
"I will freely admit that I am a former Death Eater, and I can honestly say that the Dark Lord feared you, Albus, not only for your power or skill with a wand, but also because he recognized a master manipulator when he saw one. Half of the last war was spent with him and you dealing each other blows through proxies, him trying to take control of Britain, and you trying to stop him in every possible venue. And I know for a fact that if you hadn't been there to impede him every step of the way, he would have had Britain in the palm of his hand in a single year, two tops. So do not take me for a fool, Dumbledore, I know you could do something if you so wished. The truth is that you are too afraid of antagonizing the only person who can end your career for good, or rather that you have plans for him, plans that depend on how well you can manipulate him."
He inwardly cringed, although he had enough experience to hide it. He knew Karkaroff was right. Even now, with only his position as Headmaster left, he could very well find a way to have Harry behave, in fact he could think of several at the moment. Unfortunately, each of them would end up antagonizing him to the Boy-Who-Lived, and he was already on very thin ice with the boy, so he dared not provoke him further by trying to control him. He would allow him his freedom, so long as he did nothing reprehensible, although from what he had seen so far, it was only a matter of time before he ended having to confront Harry about his behavior.
The boy was all too willing to use violence to solve his problems, when he should learn to forgive. The symbol of the Light could not go around harming people, for then others would begin believing violence was the answer, and he refused to allow a temperamental teenager ruin a life of hard work. He would need to be subtle, very subtle, but he was almost certain he would find a way to make Harry see reason, and if he did not, then he could always use Severus' services, the man knew quite a few potions that made the drinker more receptive to reason. And while it would sadden him to stoop so low, it was for the Greater Good.
-Break-
Harry was not amused by what he was seeing. While aware that British food was, at best, unhealthy, and at worse, badly disguised poison, he had hoped that Hogwarts, being the school hosting the Triwizard Tournament, would have upped the ante and widened their prospects to other foreign foods. Alas, it seemed his hopes (which he could freely admit, were probably misplaced) had been betrayed, as he stared at the food present on the table. Outside of a few French dishes, and some Easter European ones, there was no choice. He made a mental note to give the House Elves a few lessons on Japanese and Asian food, as he did not wish to poison himself with British food for a full year.
"Damn, it's a wonder these people aren't fat with food like this." Commented Homura, picking up a piece of meat covered in a slick juice and examining it with disgust. "There's more fat in a single piece of meat here than in an entire meal back home."
Since she had switched to Japanese, many of the students were staring at her questioningly, as they didn't recognize the language, not surprising since the isolationist attitude of the Purebloods made them ignore anyone who wasn't at the very least European, and that Muggleborns, being home only two months each year, hardly had the opportunity to travel to Asia. Of course, using a foreign language when they were "guests" could be considered impolite, but considering they had been forced to come to Britain due to the staff's carelessness and ineptitude, they were not about to care about property.
"Bah, once can't hurt." Shrugged Karasuba, who had already loaded her plate with a variety of foods, and once said plate was full, she made a show to wave her wand above it, showing clearly that she was checking her food for potions, a not-so subtle show of how little they trusted their hosts. She then proceeded to devour her food, although even at the pace she was eating, she maintained some dignity, something that Harry couldn't say for all students as his eyes flickered to a redhead stuffing his face with food at the Gryffindor table.
"E-Excuse me…" called a female voice, making him glance to his left.
The one who had spoken was a witch who seemed to be around his age, with dark skin and silky black hair that fell past her shoulders in raven waves. She was quite cute, and would probably grow to be a very beautiful woman, but he was hardly impressed, what with him already living with three beautiful women, two of which had little in the way of shame and spent a lot of their time in outfits that showed much more of their bodies than robes did.
"Yes?"
His question, as well as his raised eyebrow, seemed to scare the dark-skinned witch, as she flinched violently, before taking a deep breath, and gathering her wits.
"I…I am Padma Patil, pleased to meet you!"
He inwardly sighed. Not even a full day at Hogwarts and already he had fangirls. Granted, he was aware that his fame, coupled with his exotic looks, and the mystery of his "disappearance", would be like honey for flies to the witches present, but quite frankly he had hoped that the fact he had three beautiful women constantly by his side would have made it clear that he was not interested in any form of romantic relationship. Still, at the very least she had been polite, which was more than what could be said for most of the magic-users he had met so far, so he would respond in kind.
"I guess you know who I am, but for the sake of introductions, my name is Harry Minaka. A pleasure." He bowed slightly, a simple greeting for people who were barely acquaintances in Japan, not that he thought Padmai would catch the meaning of it, since the art of bowing was something that couldn't be understood unless you had lived in the country for several years.
"Minaka?" she frowned, as did several of the other students, who were unashamedly listening to their conversation. He made a mental note to create privacy wards the next time he had a conversation, since it seemed that the concept of privacy seemed to be alien to them.
"My adoptive father's name. He may be a nutcase, but at the very least he was kind enough to offer me a place to stay." He explained, noticing that Dumbledore was frowning. So the old coot is listening in too…
"Why would you use another name when you're famous?"
Not even bothering to look at the speaker, he sampled a piece of meat, nearly grimacing at how greasy it was. He had been raised in a country were fat foods were rather rare, and before that, well it wasn't like the Dursleys had allowed him to eat anything that might be properly nourishing, let alone greasy. So he wasn't quite used to foods like the ones he had to eat at the moment.
"Because he adopted me, maybe? And because I hardly see how I could have "vanquished" a Dark Lord with half a century of experience in magic when I was still learning how to walk. So I hardly think I did anything that makes me different from others, and as such I hardly see why I should care about what name I use."
"B-but you defeated You-Know-Who!" nearly shouted another student, making him wonder if Ravenclaw really was where the smart students were. Had he not just stated he didn't think he had vanquished Voldemort?
"So what if I did? It was an accident at best, so while I can understand the need to praise a baby for doing something most adults didn't even try to do, I hardly think I deserve to be nearly worshipped. Truth be told, I wasn't even aware I was famous before I turned seven, since dear Dumb had the genius idea of sticking me with people who hated my guts and would rather have seen me dead.
Trust me, when you've spent half your life believing you're a waste of space, you don't want to be famous, especially when you did nothing to earn your fame."
Seeing that quite a few students were protesting, he decided to give them an explanation that should have them understand.
"Tell me, I heard Ravenclaws praise themselves at being the best in academics. So, tell me, how would it feel if you, say, completed an exam completely at random, earned perfect grades despite that, and were then worshipped by the other students? Because to me, what happened with Voldemort is the same. I did nothing myself, outside of perhaps trying to defend myself, and maybe my accidental magic did the trick, by a huge stroke of luck, but it would be nothing but an accident."
He could see that quite a few of the teens seemed to heed his words due to their furrowed brows and pensive expressions, and he felt his opinion of these students rise a bit, although there were still quite a few who seemed content to he was some kind of Messiah if their expressions were anything to go by. Those he carefully remembered, as they would likely be the ones he had to watch out for.
"Anyway, I hope you don't mind, but I was hoping to eat in peace, so if you had questions, do keep them for after we're finished, it's not like I will be going anywhere since I have a binding magical contract to participate in the joke that is the Tournament."
-Break-
Fortunately for them, the Ravenclaw students seemed to pick up Harry's sour mood, and therefore, aside from the few questions from earlier, they left him mostly alone, and after trying to communicate with Akitsu, and failing, they seemed to focus mainly on Homura, who did not have Karasuba's intimidation factor to keep them at bay. The poor Fire Sekirei was quickly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic, and quite nosy, teenagers, at least until Harry glared at them, making them back off. While not quite as angry as before, he was still quite irritated by the total lack of manners shown by the students. Even if he was supposed to be famous, harassing someone was not exactly what well-behaved students did, and he idly wondered how long it would be before he was pissed off enough that he began challenging them to duels. If it took maiming a few of them to have some peace, he was more than willing to do so, especially since he highly doubted he would be left alone otherwise.
-Break-
At the same table the strange group ate, Hermione Granger was slowly finishing her own meal, although those who knew her could tell that she was quite deep in thought. Who wouldn't be, when their teacher/crush/savior appeared to be an extremely famous wizard, one who had disappeared one day to parts unknown, and had reappeared only because they had been forced to?
Of course, she had had her suspicions, as Harry had drilled her in looking for information outside of her books, and she had become a rather good judge of character thanks to his teachings, even if she would freely admit she would likely never be as good as her teacher when it came to reading people. But there had been signs that Harry was not the average wizard, first of all, being that he had gotten his NEWTs at eleven, a feat that was not impossible in the sense, "people couldn't conceive the fact that someone so young could know such advanced magic", but rather impossible in the sense "if he was able to do that then he should have been dead already". The fact that Harry was not only alive, but arguably more powerful than all the adult wizards she had met also compounded the fact that he was an anomaly. Then there was the fact that despite living in Japan, he was obviously not a native, and finally the fact that he seemed to hold a massive grudge against Dumbledore told her that he had probably met the man, meaning that he was most likely European.
All of this painted the picture of someone who had suffered due to Dumbledore's inadequacies (and she was being nice), and who had most likely attracted the old man's attention due to his unique abilities. From there on, the fact that he was actually slightly younger than her (and hadn't that been a surprise?), added to the fact that he had had twin green eyes when they had met, had allowed her to form her own theory after finding out what Harry James Potter was supposed to look like. Oh, he had grey hair, but such a thing could easily be dye, or a Glamour, or even a natural occurrence due to some freaky magic accident, but the fact was, that she had already suspected that her teacher was in fact the one who had vanquished Voldemort.
She shared his opinion on that fact though, as while it was probably his deed that had seen the Dark Lord vanquished, it was most likely an accident, a freak occurrence that had been blown out of proportion by a society of sheep, too used to following those who had done what they couldn't, at least when such things benefitted them. She didn't think that if he had, say, accidentally raised the dead as a toddler, they would have taken things so well.
Still, she knew better than to try and confront Harry in the middle of the Great Hall, not when he had asked her to spy on Dumbledore for him. Showing that they knew each other would only earn her undue scrutiny, and Harry would likely be questioned by the old man as to how they had met, since one of the aged wizard's failings was his obsessive need to know everything about what interested him. She had time, after all, he was there for the year.
-Break-
While Harry ate, Ivy carefully watched her brother. She had no idea of what had happened between him and her parents, but she highly doubted it was good, as her mother had been crying in her parents' bedroom since she had left the Headmaster's office. At the same time, she felt a spark of vindictive pleasure in knowing that apparently her father had pissed him off enough to earn himself a punch that had landed him in the infirmary for the remainder of the day. While she wanted to love her father, the man made it rather difficult with his behavior, and maybe, just maybe, having his greatest failure coming at Hogwarts and taking him down a peg or two would do him some good.
Now though, the most important thing that she needed to figure out how she was going to approach him, as she highly doubted that strolling up to him and telling him that she was his sister would go well. She had no idea if his apparent hatred of the Potter family extended to her, since her parents weren't exactly very vocal of what had happened, but if his apparent behavior was any indication, she better be very careful in her approach.
Her eyes trailed to the silence auburn haired woman sitting next to her brother, who was eating slowly, although the amount of food she was putting away was staggering. Perhaps the best way to introduce herself wasn't to approach him directly, she mused, after all he seemed rather close with the three women who were accompanying him. If she managed to become acquaintances, or friends, with one of them, she would be able to be closer to him, judge his reactions, and then she would be able to introduce herself properly.
She smiled. Things were looking up for her.
