My sense of time is horrible?

This chapter was impossible?

Anyways, it is only thanks to Oralindie, my magnificent, awesome beta that this was out before June. Trust me on this.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Of Intruders and Interruptions

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Yugi was bouncing. Up and down; his spikes bending as they went down, before springing back up. Maybe it was just a slight bounce with each step, but it certainly there, rattling the chains on his pants, interspersing his monologue of Ginny. Both Ryou and Malik managed to tune out his babbling about the date, while Dean had left the dorm around the third rendition about how pretty Ginny's eyes were, and his musing on what the proper term would be because brown was just too plain and there was the ring of amber as well...

Yugi talked about when he went to Dervish and Banges, babbling about the various chess sets he had seen; then on about Honeydukes, and after that Zonko's. All through his account, was a stream of comments on Ginny, some particular twist of words, or tidbit of knowledge that she had shared.

Malik was more concerned with observing Ryou. Each further movement betrayed a slight stiltedness that was strange, almost frightening. It looked like Ryou was in control, rather then his yami, but a toss of head or languorous hand movement proved otherwise.

However, the expression of quiet contemplation was at complete odds with the thief's normal countenance. Yami Bakura's eyes had been glazed over every since Hogsmeade, and Malik was itching to know why.

He also wanted to know more about this Voldemort.

They seemed to have been thrown into a school that had the potential to become a battle ground in a war. Originally, he had asked about this "Dark Lord" because he was curious about how he was going about his domination attempt, but he learned more --at Isis' insistence-- he began to worry. This man sounded more insane then he could every claim to be. Moreover, fourteen years ago or so, he had been systematically wiping out the political structure as almost a hobby, while their current headmaster had been the real target.

Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place on earth form Voldemort, but the night before, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had regaled them with their experience of the last four years at Hogwarts. Teachers possessed. Magical mirrors and binding contracts unsigned by the contracted. All of was completely unbelievable... almost as impossible as spirits surviving millenniums in golden items.

After hearing their tale, the night before, he had been all nerves, and had condensed it into a shorter form ready to send it of to Isis when the bird that he, Ryou, and Yugi shared returned for Japan, he would also be adding to it what he heard today of the older war. He noticed a lull in Yugi's commentary and took it. He needed to tell the other item holders. Isis was rather fond of Yugi and his yami, though she didn't show it much, while he rather appreciated the dry-humored thief.

"I asked about what the-what-it mort guy," Malik said, calmly.

Red eyes snapped towards him and an idle hand began to trace the Millennium Ring. Yugi sat on his bed, evidently sensing it would be a long conversation.

"Really?" asked Yami Bakura, drawing out the word into an almost threat.

"Yes. He is evidently crazier then all of us combined," Malik said, injecting a bit of humor into the situation quickly.

"I don't think it would be that hard," Yugi offered, shrugging.

Malik and Yami Bakura exchanged glances.

"It is," Malik offered shortly, not willing to say more. If Yugi couldn't tell yet how close they all treaded that bright line between rationality and madness, there was no need to tell him. His Yami likely knew and watched.

"I suppose," Yugi said, shrugging again, his brow creased.

"He's the talk of the town," Yami Bakura said after a moment of silence. He drew out of his pocket a necklace, thick woven chains with a gaudy pendant set in gold. Weaving between his hands, admiring the play of light on the chain, he added, "Not by name of course, or even with easily overheard terms, but they are definitely aware something is changing in the air."

Malik looked at the necklace and then the slight bulge in of the pockets of the thief and had a pretty good idea what he had been up to most of the day in Hogsmeade. "I talked to some one who had been in the thick of it. It was bad. He said that he's against the integration of muggleborns into society, but then kills of families that can trace their ancestry back over three hundred years." Malik plucked a bit of fuzz of his bedspread and rolled it between his fingers. "Blood and parentage seems more important here than we thought."

"You forgot the best part," Yami Bakura said, standing and stretching. "He's of mixed blood and was not raised as a wizard."

"True," Malik acceded.

"That doesn't make sense," Yugi said. "Perhaps he's just hiding what his motive is behind hatred?"

"I'm still going with insane myself," Malik shrugged. "Anyways... you do know that we supposedly have great magical potential? We could easily be targets."

"You're right." Yami Yugi said, sliding out of the puzzle and then settling on the bed beside his light, in transparent, astral from. "We come from the wrong blood, but are powerful. People are going to try to use us."

"You mustn't forget that there are three sides to this as well," Yami Bakura said, smiling darkly. "Anywhere we go, unless it's heading straight out of the country, we will fight. It's unspoken, but expected of Harry to kill Voldemort." His smirk turned blood-thirsty.

Malik snorted. This whole situation seemed to amuse the thief to no end, especially with the chance to kill, or at least maim.

"How are Voldemort's tactics?" Yami Yugi asked.

"He can fight a battle well, I believe—from what I've heard" Malik quickly added. "But he used guerrilla warfare more. All but the most ruthless of his followers appear to be respectable citizens."

Yami Bakura snorted.

"There is Malfoy though," Yugi offered.

"His family is stupid," Yami Bakura dismissed, "As are the other suspected Death Eaters." The chain in his hands disappeared, and other piece of jewelry, this time a ring was in his hands. He twirled it around on his little finger, before trying it on his middle finger. Yami Bakura's smirk grew when Yugi looked away, and Yami glowered. He sat up abruptly before pocketing the ring.

Malik arched an eyebrow waiting for the certainly dramatic statement that was about to come.

"We shall be weapons whatever we try or not..." Yami Bakura said, his eyes closed and hands laced behind hid head. "But what side will choose us?"

"Don't you mean..." Yugi began, but then trailed off, fully knowing what the thief might say.

"No." Malik said softly, comprehending as well. "Our magic... what we use automatically at first..."

"Is unknown," Yami Bakura interrupted. He opened his eyes, and his face twisted further, contorting almost impossibly, into an expression of glee and hate. "And therefore... dark."

"And we come from other countries... One could easily say that Malik is a pureblood of almost extreme proportions, able to trace back his line millennia, while there is a slight language barrier preventing further information from being gathered on Bakura and me..." Yugi said softly.

"We could easily be forced onto the side of the dark lord..." Yami Yugi finished. "But on the flip side, we are already wanted by Dumbledore. He has invited us to this school, and we are in the house that typically produces warriors."

"Or we could be declared abominations and be hunted by both sides in a weeks time," Malik said flippantly.

"I doubt that," Yugi murmured. "Harry and his friends aren't easily swayed like that. They know us."

Malik shrugged; his scenario had been tossed about, but he considered it only a faint, improbable impossibility. He had only used it as an example. He hoped that it would never come to that, for he did not doubt Harry's loyalty, but his abilities and influence.

"Or we could ingrain ourselves so much in whoever's world view that they can't conceive how they could win without us... Wouldn't be hard, the wizarding population's been significantly depleted over the last century," Yami Bakura said, laconically.

Startled eyes turned towards them, and a considering and appraising look kindled in the former pharaoh's eyes.

"Why the hell not?" Malik said rhetorically. "We going to be weapons, might as well choose. So," he turned his Attention to the smirking thief, "What were you up to?"

"Oh, not much; just a little thievery here and there. Played a little. I might have listened to a rumor or two."

Malik shook his head, hiding a smile. The next day's paper would likely have more information then Yami Bakura would part with.

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Scanning the dorm room, one last time, Yami Bakura closed the curtains around his bed. Leaning against the headboard, he let his eyes drift down as he concentrated inward. A second later, the patterns behind his eyelids became clearer and more solid, and he found himself in the corridor between their soul rooms.

He stretched slightly, smiling at the faint hints of incase, old and musty, and stone, cool and dark. It smelled faintly of an old tomb, something he smiled at. It was completely silent, and he smiled again. Silence, one thing that world never had but for the deeper caverns. Always the rustling of grass, the hum of the smallest of begins, everywhere. It stretched through the corridor uninterrupted, only disturbed by the rustle of his clothes and his breath.

With a final stretch, he pushed open the door to Ryou's soul room and heard the faint music providing white noise. Ryou tended to have some noise in the undisturbed silence because with only his heartbeat as company, he tended to get rather jumpy.

Yami Bakura, squeezed between the small gap separating the white blank soul room of his hikari's from the inner room. Eyes flickered over the familiar room, taking in the red and black walls, the scattered pillows. Disks and books were strewn across the floor, with a path barely predictable. Yami Bakura blinked, slightly surprised to see his host curled up in a corner. And while it was padded with cushions and he had a book in hand, his choice of seating was decidedly odd; even more so with the large knife that was half-hidden under one of the cushions, its hilt peeking out.

Ryou's gaze had instantly focused on him the second he had entered, and welcome smile broke out onto his face. Snapping the book closed, and shoving it off his lap, he sprang to his feet. Then his enthusiasm fell short and he mumbled a quiet greeting.

Yami Bakura strode over to Ryou, who moved slightly out of his corner. Stooping down, he grabbed the knife's handle and raised an eyebrow at his light. His fingers idle ran over the knife, checking its edge. To materialize the knife in his soul room... Sweeping a practiced eye over his light, he noticed signs of prolonged tension, as well as the hand that had returned to ideally twist white hair nervously.

"I don't feel safe," Ryou said after a long moment of silence. He hunched his shoulders, eyes darting around. "It feels like something is here, watching."

The thief's scanned the room as well with a quick glance. "Doubtful."

"I know..." Ryou said, and silence once more fell as he searched for words. "It shouldn't be possible... but look at the walls for one."

The seemed about the same. Maybe the crimson was dominating the black more then usual, but it was not to uncommon. But...

"I have never seen the hints of green and purple before."

"They almost look like bruises, don't they," Ryou said distractedly. "You've never seen this happen before?"

"No."

Ryou let out a hiss of breath, unconsciously moving closer to his yami. "Let's go to your room, or the hall."

"Mmmh," Yami Bakura gave the room another once over before beginning to lead Ryou to his soul room. "The feeling... what was it?"

Ryou hunched his shoulders, wincing. "Just... a need to watch my back, something there and something not nice. I feel like I should be hiding under the covers, cowering at the shadows. I want to just dismiss it, but then I have the faint impression that I shouldn't rear its head." They passed into the hallway. "It's getting worse," he offered as they came to the door to the other soul room.

Yami Bakura opened the door, openly watching Ryou's face.

It didn't turn milk-white, nor another drastic change, but he flinched slightly.

He let go the handle, watching as the door swung shut, and offered the knife he had absently pocketed back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ryou faintly mumbled as he took it back. "I' didn't... I was... Let's go back."

Ryou turned back to his own door and opened it, holding it in invitation for his yami to fallow. They came back to the hidden room, and Ryou threw himself back into his cushioned corner, placing the weapon within easy reach. He then closed his eyes briefly, trying to collect himself.

Yami Bakura slid down beside him. Not offering any reassurances nor ridicule, he waited.

"It's not silly," Ryou said, bearing up his chin, looking him in the eye. "It's not something I subconsciously made up because I got bored." The confidence in his tone slowly grew. "Some things changed. What happened today? I was... irritated with Malik, and then surrendered control to you."

Yami Bakura snorted. "More like you got pissed at Malik, stormed off in huff, then told me to do what ever the hell I wanted. You know yandoushi, you have some issues that seriously need to work out with him..."

Ryou flushed, ducking his head again... "Yeah... I know..."

Yami Bakura continued to watch, smirking. Ryou was replaying that duel against Yami Yugi again from battle city again in his head. Though he had only been aware for the final moments, he had given his memories to Ryou at some point... probably as leverage for something else.

Ryou knew that Malik would have let him die; his opinion of him was very erratic, often changing from day to day. Some days he jumped on the slightest things and Ryou would make snide mental comments, while ignoring Malik. In better moods, he helped Malik with his homework. Blowups such as the one earlier were rare, due to Ryou's desire to not make a scene... something that his dark had been working to rid him of. The ability to fade into the back ground was very usefully, but so could drawing every speck of attention, especially when being a diversion.

"It was rather exciting," said the thief letting himself sink further into cushions.

"Huh?"

"Today," he said smirking staring at the incredible strange walls. "It was eventful." His smirk turned into bloodthirsty grin.

Beside him, he felt the cushion move slightly as Ryou stiffened and then slumped slightly, obviously recognizing he had played a Dark Game.

"It was wonderfully refreshing. I'd forgotten what fun the Games can be --oh don't look like that, I only played a few." he said, smirking as Ryou buried his face in his hands. "Besides, they all seemed to be 'dark' wizards." Yami Bakura snorted, expressing his contempt. "They didn't even understand the rules, two of them lost by just trying to run."

"How many?" Ryou asked, his question muffled.

"The two idiots are dead," Yami Bakura's voice held utter contempt. "They ran, they deserved to die, I even told them!"

His light only shook his head; the thief was sounding like someone had stolen from him... which come to think of it, he probable did regard it as just that. A stolen game.

"Three others lost." He didn't need to elaborate.

"But what happened?" asked Ryou again, still trying to find the source of his unease.

"Nothing else."

Ryou groaned, and tossed a cushion against the far wall.

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The next day was a Sunday filled with anticipation. Halloween had finally come. Of course, the main celebration would be when darkness fell.

The Great Hall was filled with wizards and witches receiving small gifts from home, muggleborns a few candies, or purebloods given a familiar. It was evidentially a day filled with meaning for the wizarding world, as Ron explained. It was even the day when the Malfoy/Weasley feud had been declared over a century ago. If a victory was won on Halloween, it was said that the dead favored the victory. Ron continued trying to unravel a tapestry of contradicting beliefs for Hermione, with most others only half listening, except for Seamus, his Irish traditions coming into the impromptu lecture.

Dean argued with a fellow Gryffindor muggleborn over football, while Malik watched, occasionally putting in a word on how it was played in Egypt. Yugi waited eagerly for letters form Japan, and though Ryou was to receive a few letters as well, he seemed much more interested in the high table, watching them out of the corner of his eye as Yami pointed out. Of course it probably wasn't Ryou. Deciding that no staff members seemed to missing, Yugi added the idea that discretion would probably be the better idea. Suddenly a newspaper was shoved in front of Yugi, and Hermione was talking quiet urgently to Harry beside him. On the newspaper, the Daily Prophet, were several pictures. One was of a women with dark skin and wide, bulging eyes smiling riotously and swaying her head slightly, the moving picture capturing her swaying.

The smiling madwoman was suggested to be the lucky one, four other wizards had been found in Hogsmeade. One man eyes has turned inward as well as his tongue ripped out, while another was rocking himself back and forth, muttering nonsensical. The remaining two wizards had been found dead, bodies with cuts of an unidentifiable animal or possibly curse.

Yugi closed his eyes briefly, blocking out the article.

"It's almost certainly a dark wizard. The deaths are just so..." Hermione's words echoed through Yugi's thoughts as his eyes tracked Kenemu, the falcon he shared with Ryou and Malik, swooping down.

When the bird came to rest in front of him stealing a piece of egg off his plate, Yugi untied the letters fastened the leg of the bird slowly. He muttered the quick string of words as he tapped the papers with his wand awkwardly, once more thankful for the translation spell Hermione had found.

Reading though them, he became calm. Anzu wrote of dance and a possible part in the Nutcracker. Honda informed him of Jounochi and Kaiba dueling for lack of better players around, despite (or perhaps because of) their mutual hatred. Jounochi reinforced the almost quite normality... until he read the last of the letter.

...I'll beat Kiaba next time.

Yugi smiled, and then read the rest the last paragraphs of the letter, frowning as he noticed that they looked hastily scribbled.

Shizuka had an appointment at the hospital yesterday. Her eyesight is growing worse, it looks like the surgery didn't take. The doctors say she might have as little as three or so months left for her vision. There's another operation they can try, but chances of it actually working long term are slim. However, as the side-effects are minor, I think we'll try it. I'm really glad that I saved almost all the money from Duelist Kingdom.

She's also been having strange nightmares. Green lights, and battles in some mansion seem to be a recurring theme, as do deaths. The number of times she's woken me up by coming into my room to make sure I'm still there is not funny. It's supposed to be anxiety, but I wonder...

Write soon,

Jounochi

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The Great Hall was festooned with twinkling candles, dried flowers, delicate cobwebs, be-spelled jack-o-lanterns, and fairies racing around the room with streams of ribbons attached. Hermione had smiled at the decor, glad to be rid of the usual garishness of the holiday for once. Students laughed, tossing and trading sweets. The feast itself was magnificent. The sky even seemed agreeable to the celebration; it was clear with only the barest wisps of clouds moving quickly over the crescent moon.

As the candles flickered, a shape became apparent, swooping in form one of the small windows on the wall.

It was a black bird, large; a raven. It carried an acid green scroll. Hermione looked up at it absently, eyes drawn away from the advanced charm book by the movement. She dismissed it as yet another gift for some pureblood, and returned to puzzling out the spatial relocation theory. Her head snapped up as she saw it come closer to the Gryffindor table.

Her sixth sense, the one that told her to grab this book in the library, take down what the professor said word for word, or that Ron hadn't done his homework yet sounded. She took note of her table, seeing both Harry and Ron saw the bird coming.

Beside her, she felt Malik shift as he noticed the bird. Across from him she also saw Ryou and Yugi both staring at the bird, she felt like she had blinked without blinking as she noticed the change in 'Yugi's' hair.

The raven swooped low, and flew down the table, she could almost feel the wing tips brush against her face, and then, what seemed to be an eternity later, her hair flew in the gust caused of the raven's wake. She heard the clatter of the raven's talons on the wooden table as it came nearly crashed into a cake as it came to a stop, right in front of Harry.

The raven let out a loud cry, resonating throughout the hall, calling every eye towards Gryffindor table.

Hermione felt a great tug in her stomach, and the world around her began to spin, whirling rapidly. It was a portkey. The scroll was a bloody portkey!

It must of touched the table (had Harry been touching it?) or have been one of the spatial types. The can transport almost anything, Hermione remembered.

The world settled, and the Gryffindor table gave a great creak, and the other students let out one confused burst of noise, and then became silent. Surrounding them in an oval were men dressed in black robes with white masks, wands out and pointing at them. Death Eaters.

The raven beat its wings and with a speed Hermione believed to be impossible, and was once more airborne. Almost immediately, the shape of the raven began to change, blurring and shifting. As it came to the edge of the oval, it became much larger, and then as it (most certainly not bird) landed, it instantly became apparent this was animagus. In the raven's place, stood a woman with dark, thick hair and heavily lidded eyes.

"My lord, the Gryffindors," she said sweeping one lone figure an elaborate curtsy.

The lone figure nodded, and looked at Harry, a nose-less, pale excuse for a face filled with unholy amusement, red eyes glinting it the moonlight, almost glowing in delight.

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By the way, I now have a LJ. Go to ht tp/ste lla wind.live jou rnal. co m/ (remove the spaces), if you want to poke at me. Who knows, I might update faster.