I'm ba~ack! *snicker*
For an explanation concerning the Ankh and Scales, please look at reviewer response I've given to Tomgirl27.
I am cold. I hate being cold. And I have to use the public library to type this. But at least this chapter is longer than the previous three. And I've been revising my previous chapters. Must be all that spare time I have . . .
I am mentally disturbed. Because I said so. So there.
Disclaimer: I don't even own a bag of pretzels. My samurai kitties stole them. Meanieheads.
Wheeeeeeee!
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Ryou breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to get past security and onto the plane without any major mishaps. The worst his yami had done was take over long enough to glare at the pilot. Of course, the pilot then decided to duck behind the first row of seats. Not bad, considering.
Ryou was extremely grateful he had forced his darkness back when after he had to take off the Ring in order to get through the metal detectors. A massacre in an airport probably would not have gone over very well.
//Can I--//
/No!/
// . . . Just one?//
/Yami! No!/
//But that mortal--//
/Yami! What have I said about killing mortals?/ Not that he, himself, wasn't a mortal.
//That mortal was being insubordinate.// This was stated as though it were a perfect reason for murder.
/ . . . /
//Hn. Fine.// Upon grumping, Ryou's yami trudged to his soulroom.
Now to find his seat . . .
6-D is a window seat on the left, right? No, wait. This is a larger plane with three seats on either side of the aisle. So 6-D would be in the sixth row down on the left, right next to the aisle. Right?
At least he wouldn't have to climb over anyone to get to his seat.
"Hurry up."
"Huh?"
A glare, but nowhere near as effective as his yami's, or Yuugi's yami. The Asian businessman seemed to be trying out Albert Einstein's hairstyle. Odd. "You heard me, brat." He snapped.
Blink. Was that a threat? No, it couldn't be.
The businessman seemed to be in a hurry to get past the fifth row of seats. Ryou hastily slipped into his row with his carry on bag still in his hand. The businessman strode on through the narrow aisle to the seventh row, put his carry on bag in the overhead compartment, and sat down in seat 7-D.
So the anger display was just to get past a single row?
Okay.
Ryou stood hunched over, trying not to bang his head while waiting for a chance to slip out of the row of seats. He still had to put his bag in the overhead compartment.
Now if only the flow of humans would slow down enough for him to put up his bag.
The businessman buckled himself in, and then started to read a paperback novel.
Isn't that a romance novel? Ryou blinked in surprise.
The businessman seemed to feel Ryou's stare. He looked straight at the teen, glared some more, and proclaimed, "Beat it."
Ryou honestly expected his darkness to start making crude comments concerning the future of the businessman's soul, but all remained quiet. The voice in his head was not talking. At all. Why wasn't the voice in his head talking? He should be listening to mutterings about murders and maiming. Or at least on how humans were not meant to fly. How could things be quiet in his head?
"I said beat it! Get lost!"
A mental snore. The thieving yami had decided it was nap time. Again.
That works.
Now why did his yami get to sleep and he didn't? It was only about ten after nine in the morning!
Ryou turned to his right and faced the crowd in the aisle.
"Um, excuse me? I need to put my bag up." Now if only everyone else would stop ignoring him. "I'll be quick about it." The line kept going. Sigh.
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Harry finished his essay on raising venomous tentaculai with a small flourish, and set it aside. Writing with quill and ink had some serious drawbacks as compared to writing with a ballpoint pen. The first being the amount of time it took the ink to dry. During his first year at Hogwarts, Harry had gone to all of his classes with the side of his hand smeared with ink.
Sometimes he still did. At least he had figured out how to write evenly with a quill.
There was no ink on his hand this time.
He jotted down 'quill sharpener' on his Diagon Alley shopping list. He thought a knife would do the trick (it's what he had used in previous years) but he wished to be sure. Quills became dull with use, much like a muggle pencil, and a dull quill did not apply ink evenly over his parchment. Professors Snape and McGonnigal had mentioned this fact several times in red ink on his returned homework assignments.
Another item on the list he had started while the Dursleys had gone to pick up Dudley was a new cage for Hedwig. Her old one was a bit bent up. Harry figured that would be a nice thing to do for his owl.
Currently, said owl was out. Most likely, she was out hunting rodents for him to 'ooh' and 'aw' at when she came home. She was an excellent hunter.
He considered reading that bit of legislation in the Daily Prophet. A new "Dark Creature Containment Bill" would probably be important. However, reading it would most likely only serve to make him angry, regardless of which 'dark creature' it contained
Civil rights are a must. Especially for werewolves and half giants. But not so much for house elves.
Harry glanced at the clock on the rickety table next to his bed. 12:43.
He would admire Hedwig's hunting prowess in the morning.
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A man strode through the empty streets confidently, but while giving off a distinctly lost aura. The man was oddly dressed for London at any time of day, garbed in what seemed to be a dark wine red dress or bathrobe.
The man paused in the middle of an intersection. He wore what appeared to be an oversized key on a cord around his neck. He turned his head, seemingly searching for something. He turned right, got onto the sidewalk, and strode forward.
He was a man on a mission.
His eyes were red. But no one saw.
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Bill sighed as he sat at the table. It was far too early to be awake. The sun was barely up.
"Mum got to you, huh?" Ron gave a sympathetic half-smirk before looking expectantly towards the kitchen. His hair rivaled his friend Harry's in messiness. He must have just rolled out of bed.
Bill grunted in reply.
"Bill Weasley! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! Speak coherently! You hear me!"
Bill ducked his head down in response to his mother's voice from the kitchen.
"Well?!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't sound so sulky!"
The twins snickered. Of course, it might have been because of the designs for a new product that they had flattened out before them. Business was booming. Harry must be thrilled.
Their establishment had experienced a marvelous start, due to Hogwarts students coming in for purchases. Apparently, having Umbridge for a Defense professor had a positive value after all. Now if only their mother would allow them to move out . . .
Mr. Weasley exited the living room. "Well, Tonks says that Tranfield is being detained for further questioning. No one even suspected he would ever turn on the ministry. He was always so straight laced . . ."
Mrs. Weasley darted out of the kitchen in time to spot Ron giving Bill a side-glance. "Ronnikins, here. Let me get that for you." She proceeded to clean a nonexistent smudge of dirt from the boy's nose while giving Bill a stern glare.
Bill gave his mother a weak smile.
"Now, make sure you stay clean."
"Yes, Mum."
"Arthur, did Nymphadora have anything to say about the investigation?" Mrs. Weasley sighed, "I don't like that man being outside of Azkaban like this. What if he tries to escape again?"
"Tonks says everything's all right now that they have him in custody. He isn't really much of a threat now if he's locked in a heavily warded cell, Molly. Tranfield is the one who really worries me." He stared into the empty space above the table. "No one knows if he was under a compulsion spell, or if he's actually turned on the Ministry. And if an Interrogator can turn, who else has?"
The twins set off one of their newest inventions.
"Fred! George! Not at the table!"
Everyone relaxed a bit at the change of topic, and Arthur watched his wife bustle into the kitchen. He looked at the pair of pranksters. "Boys, put those away. You won't get anything for them if you use them all on us."
Mrs. Weasley came in from the kitchen with platters of her delicious yet fattening homemade food floating behind her. "You had all best be hungry."
Ron's stomach gurgled in response, earning a halfheartedly muffled snort from Ginny. He gave a quick hurt look to his little sister before returning his gaze to his breakfast.
The family tucked in.
The twins and their father conversed over market stability in the gag gift industry. Ron and Ginny could be heard discussing Portugal's odds of winning against Peru in the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Bill was holding a staring contest with his mother.
Bill was becoming fairly nervous. Then she spoke.
"Now, dear, about your hair." Mrs. Weasley caressed her wand lovingly.
"No!"
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Somehow or other, I got reviews. Don't ask how.
komodo dragon: I got baklava! Neener neener neeeeeeener! Ack! Samurai kitties are not supposed to attack their mistress! It's mine! *glares at samurai kitties* Oh, the usual . . . *evil grin* And thanks for the baklava. ^_^
Tomgirl27: The Ankh (key) can see into people's souls, and can even alter their soulrooms (i.e.: alter personalities). The only way to reverse this is for the victim to touch the Ankh. The Scales weigh the value of a soul. If a soul weighs more than a feather (by means of heavy feelings, like hate and greed) a giant crocodile shows up and eats the body of the person whose soul is being weighed. This is why everyone should put their soul on a diet.
simpleinsanity: You're welcome.
Maruken: Bakura wasn't wearing pants because . . . because . . . ummm . . . I don't know. You'd better ask his Yami. Who knows how that guy's mind works. *shudder*
lily22: Yo! Keeling over is awkward. And sometimes messy. Try to avoid it when you can. All those characters are needed in order for events to be put in perspective. A lot of things will be going on at once in this story. That's one of the main reasons for all of those pesky short scenes.
Curtis Zidane Ziraa: Voldie has yet to make an appearance. And the reason for the Ankh leaving Shaadi . . . will be revealed in a few chapters. Well, unless I decide to get really longwinded. Both ways work, I guess . . .
Yami-Bakura's-little-thief: You're a thief? Your name says you're one. *suspicious side-glance* Brain stress is bad for your health. =P Nah . . . no knives for Yami Bakura, since that would stop Ryou from getting to England, and thusly bring my plot down to a snail's pace. Then the story would never end. The main reason he's going to England is to get the pre-story jabber out of the way. As it is, the first two and a half chapters were originally supposed to be just one chapter. -_-"
I've gotten longwinded, haven't I? *sobs*