NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY
Chapter Seven
The Offer: Part 1
Author Note: There is Middle English spoken in this chapter due to the time period the conversations were taking place. If needed, the Modern English translation is located at the end of this chapter.
'Tis understood that upon the eve of the Second Crown War of the Forgotten Realms, the High Elves of Ivor Lonnath closed the Crystal Isles' borders to the outside world and focused within, developing at such an astounding rate that the land and socialscape was unrecognisable within a decade. This state of affairs continued thus until 1082A.D when High Lord Feredin, deciding it was time to learn what went on beyond their island borders, requested from the Kuriyama Clan someone to explore and report on the happenings of the rest of the world. A young, newly wedded couple, the Grindelwalds, offered their services and within two weeks set out on what they considered the adventure of a lifetime.
The Lonnathians were horrified at the reality. People were being actively hunted for having usable spiritual energy by those less fortunate, terrible diseases caused by poor living conditions and a high rodent population plagued humanity, and widespread illiteracy was actively being encouraged by the society's leading spiritual institution.
Then in 1088A.D. Jacque Grindelwald had the extreme pleasure of discovering the badly beaten and bloody body of Lord Salazar Slytherin lying near his and his wife's temporary French residence. He had no way of knowing that taking the former Hogwarts Founder into his home and healing him would trigger a series of events that would change everything.
Slytherin, drowning in bitterness, relayed to the couple the story of Hogwarts and his reason for subsequent abandonment of the institution. The High Elf, for that was what Jacque was, leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. The High Lord had indicated his displeasure with the current treatment of reiryoku users by the mundane population. Slytherin's story indeed cemented the need to be cautious but also the need to do something.
"And what pray telleth would thee doth about t if 't be true given the opportunity?"
"I would bar muggleborns from attending Hogwarts, kind sir. Those gents art a security risk to those who practice magic."
"Thee maketh no sense. The untrained would only reveal thy world coequal more to those not blessed with the gift. Pray telleth, has't thee no other solution?"
Jacque immediately noticed Slytherin's hesitation.
"Cometh on sir out with t. Speaketh what is on thy mind!"
"I has't at each moment bethought that muggleborns should beest in a school of their own. Those gents art completely ignorant of our history or way of life. Eke the muggles useth those folk to hunt down our children! I would rather those folk trained but how can we giveth those folk information of our identities then sendeth those folk back to those who misprise us? Tis but common sense to wanteth to protect oneself."
Jacque nodded to himself. These were good arguments.
"And would thee leadeth such a school? Would thee beest willing to teachest what must beest hath taught if 't be true given a safe environment to doth so?"
The shocked look on Slytherin's face quickly morphed into a disgusted one.
" The muggles hath killed mine own wherefore would I wanteth to teachest their disgusting offsprings? I would rather killeth the swines and squeeze the red wine out of their maggot spawns until their bastards lay as lifeless as mine own. Those whores mistakes who hath stolen the magic from the bosom of my superior race whilst leading their sires to our doorsteps. Receiveth rid of those folk I sayeth! Receiveth rid of those folk like the plagues that those gents art!"
Taken aback, Jacque felt suspicion rise within him.
"What wast thee doing previously that thee got hurt so badly? Surely one such as yourself hath not embraced the unscrupulous?"
The truly horrendous smile that crossed Slytherin's face answered it all.
"I am simply sharing the feeling of mine hath lost with others so those gents may share in mine sorrow. An eye for an eye Sir. I didst not maketh the rules."
Jacque looked into the crazed eyes of a man too far gone with grief and knew what he had to do. For such a powerful man steeped in hatred was only a danger to society. That night Jacque offered Slytherin a cup of wine to toast his many triumphs over the ordeals in his life. Slytherin never woke up.
Though the man was dead, his idea of a school for the new bloods was brought to the attention of the High Lord of the Crystal Isles. It was given some serious thought.
The Grindelwalds continued the perusal of the world outside Ivor Lonnath but as time went on their lack of adaptation to the inadequate standards of living resulted in Jacque Grindelwald's immune system finally collapsing. In 1097A.D. he passed away on his way home, somewhere on the streets of London from the notorious Black Plague. His wife, worried, went out searching and found him hours later among the pile of bodies being burnt that day. Legend has it that on very still nights her screams could still faintly be heard upon the cold night wind.
Juliet refused to return to Ivor Lonnath, citing instead a need to remain close to the place her husband was buried. It was a sentiment her family, Clan and country chose to respect. It was a sentimental need that she soon deeply regretted. For you see Juliet Grindelwald was a most beautiful and well educated woman and thus, gathered both lust and disdain in equal amounts from the men around her. Medieval England was no place for a woman alone.
When she was finally found by a Kuriyama agent after a long period of no communication she was almost unrecognisable. Gone was the great beauty washed away with harsh use, the pride and culture buried under hunger and regular beatings. Her story would serve to be the catalyst for mandatory training of all incoming members of a Clan.
Taking pity upon the woman, the agent immediately offered a clean, painless death for this truly broken creature who only begged for an end to her misery. For even in her agony Juliet had been unable to muster up the courage to take her own life. She kissed his hands in gratitude. The agent never once gave any thought to the pile of ratty, dirty rags in the right-hand corner of the room. Ten minutes after her death, the loud squalling would bring up one of the angry men from downstairs.
In 1745 New Blood International Academy finally opened its doors.
The Grindelwald family line was believed dead until 1885 when an impossible event occurred. At the age of three, Gellert Grindelwald brought the attention of his former Clan back upon his family by accidentally knocking the spirit of his little brother from his body. The event was unprecedented. Lil Gellert had demonstrated an inherited ability which was only found within those generations that had consistently reaffirmed Clan membership. With his generational gap, the boy should never have had any Clan ability at all.
The known Clan inborn ability for the Kuriyamas was blood bending. However, there was one other ability that never made it into any of the books on Clans but only ever showed up within that Clan. It should have been impossible for little Gellert to inherit it. It should have been impossible.
Gellert Grindelwald was a Soul Bender.
A Soul Bender was a Blood Bender whose reiryoku had been absorbed into the body's red blood cells, allowing the bloodbending capabilities of the Kuriyama Clan. The absorbed energy however, instead of manifesting in a physical form such as bloodbending, remained in reiryoku form. It was very very rare and no Soul Bender manifested their abilities in the same manner. For Gellert, his ability manifested itself in medium balls of floating, moving spiritual fire. It was a sight to behold.
Perhaps it should now be noted that there has never been more than one Soul Bender in existence at the same time. Research has yet to reveal the reason behind this phenomenon. This unfortunately meant that a Soul Bender was completely reliant on the documented and instructional books left behind by their predecessors. After confirming his lineage, Gellert and his family were reaffirmed into the Kuriyama Clan and little Gellert began instruction.
He was a brilliant but cruel child. Oftentimes than not, Gellert's instructor would find him threatening his family into doing what he wanted. The only family member the boy was ever kind to was his aunt Bathilda Bagshot, a rather obnoxious old hag who refused to accept any of the lad's nonsense. When he turned eleven, Gellert's instructor beseeched the Clan Head to send him to one of the local schools in the area instead of New Blood. The boy had been steadily gaining a superiority complex over the years about anything non-magical and the instructor feared what this cruel child would do on Ivor Lonnath and with a New Blood education. That September, Gellert began his magical instruction at Durmstrang Institute in Germany, where he would remain until his expulsion at the age of 15.
We are now at the point where things get a bit...confidential. For you see, in 1899, when Gellert was 16, he met an interesting individual by the name of Albus Dumbledore who harboured a similar mindset of wizard superiority to his own. Not only did the two hit it off almost immediately, but Albus was fascinated and in truth not just a little frightened of Gellert's soul bending ability. The two teenagers made grand plans to go treasure hunting to find the legendary Deathly Hallows, powerful items they believed would grant the power to command death and rule mankind. But like all such great world domination plans something went wrong. An argument with Albus's younger brother, Aberforth, escalated into a three-way duel, a stray spell hitting and killing Albus's younger sister, Ariana.
Gellert's lack of empathy towards his co-conspirator's plight, and Albus's own guilt caused the two to part ways. Many years later Gellert would discover the elder wand, a weapon considered so powerful that the user was rendered practically invincible. He would go on to become one of the greatest Dark Lords of all time.
It was a monumental embarrassment for the Kuriyama Clan. The Clan Head hired Nara researchers to find a way to bind Gellert's soul bending abilities to allow their agents to move against him. The day a guilt ridden Albus finally gathered his courage to face Gellert, was the day the Kuriyama Clan finally slipped him the potion. The Kuriyama swore never to let one of their members become victim to such darkness again. Which is why, just mere hours after the discovery of the soul piece within Harry J. Potter's curse scar, the war council of Ivor Lonnath had converged to discuss the threat of Lord Voldemort. A threat they had never even considered before to be more than just a local pest of Magical Britain. For the various reiryoku blessed regions on the planet, Voldemort was many things but up until today he had appeared to be no Gellert Grindelwald.
"Have we decided on our course of action then?" High Lord Caunion, High Elf of the Crystal Isles, questioned.
He looked at every person in the room, some seated, some standing, each one a Clan Head and not just from Ivor Lonnath either. Voldemort had officially made himself an enemy of every single Clan on the planet by becoming an abomination of reiryoku.
"I believe we have" nodded a tall woman leaning against the cream coloured wall across from him. Nikita Mears: Clan Head of the Kuriyama.
"What about this prophecy? It does say the boy needs to do the deed himself" drolled a lazy voice to his right. Shikaku Nara: Clan Head of the Nara.
"You believe in prophecy Kaki?" came a deeply amused voice near the window. Gene Starwind: Clan Head of the Vongola.
Shikaku didn't even bother glancing at the man.
"It doesn't matter what we think, what's important is what this dark lord thinks. He obviously believes in this prophecy so will probably continue coming after the boy. Potter-san needs to be trained."
"Well I'll make sure of that." The Vongola Clan Head stated with a cocky grin.
Nikita glared stonily at him.
"Potter is a member of the Kuriyama Clan..."
"Not yet he is. The boy is third generation so would need to reaffirm to be in your Clan. Nor has he done anything to be forced into any Clan so early in his school career. The earliest you can indoctrinate Potter into your Clan is probably his second year and by then I fully intend on offering the boy a place in the Vongola Clan. He'll be a front-line fighter Niki. The Vongola Clan specializes in that."
Nikita didn't react.
"When Harry Potter has been reaffirmed into our Clan he will have no need to worry about a deficiency in his training. "
Gene found himself intrigued with both the confidence and the truth the statement rang in.
"And how do you suppose to do this?"
A slow, very dangerous smile crossed Nikita's face and the head of Vongola was reminded that he was dealing with a master assassin.
"I'll train him myself."
Present Time
A black, unlit silver-tipped cigarette laid caressed between luscious, full red lips so graciously attached to a breath-taking face half covered by black designer shades. Following that face was an hour-glass body that was deliciously decked in a tight, short black dress of embroidered leather and with similar accompanying fingerless gloves. Red nails gleamed in the sunset matching wicked red high heeled pumps. Her short, bleached blond hair, the only deviant in it's wildness, blew haphazardly in the wind, whipping against pale, freckled skin with merciless ferocity. She stood in the exact spot that the event that ended her husband's life took place, calm and so very still. How strange to arrange to meet a possible recruit at such a tragic location but she was an unusual woman.
She came to this bridge every year on the same date. It was her own way of mourning, not for his death but for the loss of the life she yearned for. Sometimes she stood here and wondered if she could have done something different, something to stop it all from ever happening. At 55 years she had seen and done enough that her soul would forever be stained and she wondered at times if he would have approved of her methods. For the last thirty-five years she had slaughtered, manipulated and lied to protect the lives of millions. So that the construction worker on Nashton Street can walk down the road and get his coffee. So that the woman on Sinmoor Avenue can go to her modelling job without fear. So that the child who lives across the road can go to school and his mother doesn't have to wonder if he'll come home alive or in a box. It was a difficult job. Humans seem predisposed to cause as much conflict amongst themselves as possible. Without the Clan's constant interruption of elaborately obnoxious 'rule the world' plans the human race would probably just be a pile of rubble and some bones already.
She was tired.
At 55 she had no husband nor son or daughter to pass her legacy onto and grandchildren was only a dream of yesteryear. She needed a successor. Somebody with a similar understanding of duty and the strength of personality to see it through. Someone capable of making decisions regardless of how difficult they were. Someone capable of disengaging his or herself from their emotions yet still capable of retaining their humanity. It was a rather tall order to request from anyone. She knew it, which was why she had mentally prepared herself for many more years of blood, death and destruction.
Then it happened.
For the first time in decades the Evans had found themselves back on the Clan's network. On Ivor Lonnath of all places. Her own grandfather had been among the first group that had been sent to search tirelessly for the family but with communication being what it was back then it had been a difficult endeavour even without the added complication of two world wars.
The sound of footsteps interrupted her musing and she turned to her right to watch the approach of Shikaku Nara and the Kuriyama Clan's first direct recruit from Britain. Even from a distance the quirky, swagger walk was distinctive. Mentally she categorized characteristics based on his body language. A womanizer, charismatic, impulsive, wild with a tinge of natural rebelliousness. Then they got closer and for the first time she could see his eyes. A sense of relief went through her. So this was the godfather, the official one at any rate. She had long learnt how to read people such as he. Behind all the mischievousness and chaos in those grey eyes was a cold harsh hardness that confirmed the Naras' intelligence though she had never doubted them. The Naras were very very good at what they did. Yes was very good. They were going against a Dark Lord and a Light Lord. Sirius Black was going to have need of that hardness.
"Nikita-chan."
"Nara."
She never called him by his first name. Ever. Shikaku was grateful for it. They were alike in many ways. The lack of personal acknowledgement from her was a nod of respect from one professional to another. His familiarity was a nod that he recognised a fellow assassin. Black looked from one to the other with a raised eyebrow before turning his brightly lit admiration at the body that dress cocooned. Shikaku wondered if he should warn the man that the woman he was leering at was older than him by twenty years and could tear him apart in less than five seconds. He decided not to. In order to avoid being tracked the two had travelled the mundane way. Black had been testing his patience for the entire way here with his incessant question of "Are we there yet?" and repeated renditions of '99 Bottles of Beer on the wall'. After putting up with that nonsense Shikaku deserved some retribution.
"Mr. Black..."
"Call me Sirius."
"Mr. Black my name is Nikita Mears, Head of the Kuriyama Clan. There's a lovely cafe just around the block from here. Perhaps you gentlemen may like to join me for a cup of tea?"
"Certainly" Shikaku answered before Sirius could continue to antagonise this rather dangerous woman.
Le Chocolat was a quaint looking little thing all decked out in blue with orange plastic seats, orange around the door boarder and a black and white checker floor pattern. In a corner near the blue counter a ginger-haired kitten lay fast asleep and a blonde furry puppy with a curious expression kept getting up and strolling around before heading back to it's kitten friend. The trio sat down in a shaded corner away from the small wooden windows peppered throughout the place. The owner, an old woman named Janette Benoit who was also fondly called Grand-mere Janette by her regulars, brought them a full steaming teapot and three teacups as soon as the company sat without even being signalled. Shikaku made a mental note of this. After enjoying the brew without the aid of conversation for more than five minutes Sirius, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence. Shikaku internally sighed.
"What do you want from me."
Sirius didn't feel like bothering to phrase this as a question. He wasn't stupid. The entire story Shikaku had supplied him with made a few things very obvious:
1. Remus was a very good liar but he had always known this so it really wasn't such an eye opening revelation.
2. Dumbledore had crossed a thousand and one boundaries. Someone needed to nuzzle that goat.
3. Voldemort was an even worse piece of shit than anyone originally thought. Big whooping shock.
4. These people wanted Harry for his Evans roots and wasn't that just surprising? And very worrying...
Sirius was only here because he was Harry's legal Magical guardian. If Remus or even Petunia had been legally capable of handling this situation, or Harry had been of age, then Sirius wouldn't even be sitting here. He found he wasn't even too surprised about Remus and his new status. Remy had always kept a lot of secrets, like what happened to him everytime he went home… and even though all the Marauders had been close, the secretiveness had bothered James far more than Sirius. Hence, Remus and Sirius had been closer than Remus and James. Unfortunately, that very same trait had been responsible for casting suspicion on Remus as the Death eaters' spy during the first war.
A bitter taste caused by old memories of past mistakes and regrets rose in Sirius's mouth and he slammed the cup of tea down in sudden irritation, sloshing some of the contents onto the saucer. To their credit neither Clan Head reacted to the violent move. Nikita daintily set her cup down before taking off her shades and calmly looking at Black. For a moment the direct look threw him off balance.
"You can not protect Harry Potter."
Sirius instantly bristled.
"No, be quiet and listen, Mr. Black. You can not protect your godson, neither from Dumbledore nor from your Dark Lord. Your ministry has pinned you as the number one enemy of the state. You are hunted day and night. Until Nara thoughtfully intervened you were basically a prisoner in your own home. You can not protect Mr. Potter."
"I just need to clear my name..."
"Which is very possible if you can bypass Dumbledore's interference but then what? Who will you turn to for aid? The Order is Dumbledore's domain. The Death Eaters will hunt you since you will now be in the open. What about the people in Britain? Do you expect them to do a sudden 180 and accept you with open arms? I can assure you Mr. Black those suspicions will dog your every footstep. Like others that 'escaped justice', you too will be considered as having paid your way out of prison. What about your family's former connections, all quite dark in nature? Do you believe they will assist you, a known proponent of the supposed Light? What about your wealth? A wealth your government has been steadily dipping in from the time of your parents death I might add. Will it even be enough to provide for you or Harry?"
She sipped her tea delicately before looking directly at Black through her eyelashes with a small gentle smile. Her behaviour was such a sharp contrast to the harsh words of reality falling from her lips that it actually highlighted the hurtful, yet truthful situation the man found himself in.
"Give up your guardianship to us. We are certainly capable of doing what you cannot."
Sirius stared. This was their angle? This? He knew exactly what Nikita was doing. This was hardly the first time Sirius had witnessed this kind of manipulation being performed. His mother had been a master at this...this casual statement of her guest's terrible circumstances and inability to negotiate all wrapped up, of course, in the pretty clothing of honeyed smiles and kind gestures. He knew what this was and just because he was a Black he also knew how to get out of it.
He held onto his legendary temper in a firm grip as he lightly tapped into his animagus persona, a salute to the Black family's latent metamorph talent, and smiled at his companions with way too many teeth. He rarely used the partial transformation as an intimidation tactic. James had been the face and brawns of the Marauders, Remus the brains and Peter the hanger-on cheerleader. Sirius? Well, on one of his few and forbidden trips to the muggle world when he was but a lad, he had stumbled into a bookstore and happened upon a comic series that resonated with him. Or rather, a particular character in the series.
Because everybody, even the hero, always underestimated the Joker.
He raised his teacup to her in a silent salute and thought to himself:
Let's dance bitch.
A bored Shikaku internally startled at the smile. Oh...Oh. Was this the reason Remus insisted on being best friends with such an odd goofball? The Nara tilted his head slightly to the side then leaned lazily back in his chair, keenly watching the interaction between the two with his usual disinterested expression and completely hiding the fact that he was re-evaluating Black. He compared what he was seeing now to the information gathered concerning the Azkaban escapee's deceased family. Family of whom he was supposed 'oh so very different' from. That cold, calculating family with far too much blood on their hands for civilians, and far too many connections on both sides of the Wizards' conflict. Shikaku had found that little footnote very intriguing but until this moment was of the belief that Black had been unaware or incapable of his family's political waltzes. That's certainly how the man acted.
How he acted...and wasn't that the most interesting thing of all?
Sirius sat alone in his room that evening thinking about the conversation he had with the beautiful, obviously deadly Ms. Mears. This interest in Lily's bloodline worried and more than just a little disturbed him. Sirius was a Pureblood Black born, bred and raised. He knew enough about things to be very wary of anyone Magical in nature focusing too much on the actual quality of his godson's blood lineage from his mother's side. He doubted Remus, being both a Half-Blood and a Werewolf, even knew to be on the lookout for such things. He wished he could tell him but the geas on the information prevented such a thing. He could only hope that since this society seemed welcoming to all, that such dark places did not exist here.
New Blood International Academy
Magical Theory was filled with various pockets of excited discussion after Madame Charter's announcement of their final presentation (and only graded assignment) of their summer class. Harry loved this class, even as exhausting as it was. Instead of desks and chairs, there was one long desk and chairs around it. Harry always felt like he was in a board meeting. In the corner was a small table with an actual coffee machine and tea paraphernalia of which students were encouraged to use. Considering this particular class took place at 3am, Harry was eternally grateful for the kind consideration. There had been other class blocks available at 3 pm and 8pm but both times clashed with two of the optionals he wanted to take and both classes had different teachers. The early time block may have left him rather sleepy in the early days, but Harry liked this particular group of classmates along with this specific teacher, and entertained no desire to change his circumstances.
At least he wasn't like Hermione. The only times Hermione's vocal filter was off was in the morning. She had quit this class after the first week for the 8pm class and Harry had given a silent sigh of relief at seeing her go. Best friend she may be, but the girl had been a complete nightmare and just plain mean.
Magical Theory was a compulsory class at New Blood. Whilst Madame Charter was an unusually young woman for her trade (in her early twenties), she was so knowledgeable and passionate about her subject that any question about her age disappeared within the first class. As a matter of fact, she was the Head Researcher of one of the largest magical research companies in France. Harry had been in awe when he heard that. The 3am time block was actually to accommodate her crazy work schedule. She normally issued a topic at the end of each class and encouraged students to research and come with their own views on various theories to class. For a class that required so much knowledge it was in truth Harry's most relaxed. Many times they spent the two hour block just discussing their views on a myriad of theories, sometimes coming up with their own on the fly. Harry loved it.
On the first day they had been handed a class schedule, list of assignments and when they were due and examinations dates. Actually this had been the case with all their classes. Harry kinda liked that since it allowed him to always know what to expect on any given day. This assignment in particular was very important. In order to pass the summer courses a student had to average 88%. Harry looked down at the paper placed in front of him and grinned.
'Using one of the five largest Clans on Ivor Lonnath as your example, Explain how a born Clan member could receive specific Clan abilities without being blood related.'
This was going to be so much fun.
Or at least it would have been fun if Harry hadn't the bright idea of teaming up with Hermione so they could work on their presentations together. Why did he keep doing this?
A week later and an exasperated Harry Potter sat in an empty classroom and just stared at his best friend who would not shut up as she basically vomited everything she knew on the topic. It was a surprising and extraordinarily detailed amount too. Harry truly began becoming suspicious as he noticed that at least 95% of Hermione's information was on the Nara Clan. Why when she said earlier this week she'll be doing the Sopranos? And why was so much of that information way above and beyond casual research anyway? She had to have hit the library in town and possibly every book store within a one hundred mile radius. He didn't understand why Hermione was doing such hardcore research on a Clan she had already blacklisted because of their Clan heir? What exactly was his over-competitive friend up to?
"Hermione, what's going on?" he asked.
Harry's sudden question startled the girl who stopped and glared at him for the interruption. To her surprise he met her glare head on with a fierce one of his own. Harry had become somewhat friendly with the sleepaholic. With his advice and grudging assistance, The-Boy-Who-Lived had regained his footing on his grades. Whilst he would never tell her aloud, Harry was of the firm opinion that the root of Hermione's animosity towards Shikamaru was simple jealousy. The girl pursed her lips tightly before letting out a sigh and sitting down near her friend. She was silent for a long time before speaking.
"Harry...have you ever wondered how someone could have a shadow ability? I mean it isn't like other abilities with a basis in elemental manipulation or some sort of shape shifting that has mutated into another ability or anything like that. It's in its own category. Harry, the Nara Clan is the only Clan with that ability. The only one. Other Clans are known for their born abilities either because most of their members are born with it or the members that are born in that Clan with that particular ability are by far more powerful than anyone outside that Clan. So therefore Clans can have members with an ability that may be found in another Clan. But...Harry no other Clan has a member with the ability to manipulate shadows because seriously how could someone actually manipulate shadows? Doesn't that just capture your imagination? It's fascinating! Aren't you curious?"
Harry eyed his friend, lost as to where she was going with this as interesting as it all sounded.
"Okay so the Nara Clan is very unique in that their Clan ability is unique. Okay...so you're just interested in reading on why this is so?"
Hermione's eyes slid off him to look at the desk and Harry had a sudden feeling of dread.
"I may have sorta figured out exactly how it works."
He felt his heart skip a beat.
Then Hermione started explaining her theory in detail. Harry's head began aching as his genius friend went on and on and on about mathematical calculations, metaphysical and telekinetic theories (quite a few of which she actually made up herself), and combining spiritual reiryoku with the physically reiryoku to harvest and control any aspect produced by the body including one's shadow.
"I mean in truth it was a bit obvious once I put everything together. It all just makes sense!"
She looked up at Harry, dark honey eyes shining with her excitement.
"And I even figured out how to move my shadow a bit now! Look!"
She jumped up from her seat and took a deep breath to calm herself before closing her eyes and concentrating. Harry watched in awe as the air thickened with power and his friend demonstrated wandless magic by moving her shadow around her feet in a full circle before letting it go back to normal and the strange energy disappearing. She panted slightly with her efforts and suddenly dropped into her chair looking extremely tired.
Harry stared speechless. Hermione had actually figured out how to make a distinctly Nara ability work for a non-Nara. She hadn't even been here for a whole summer yet! The feeling of dread from earlier came back with a vengeance. He loved Hermione to bits but damn it she had no common sense at times and was far too curious for her own good. Somehow Harry couldn't imagine the Naras being particularly pleased about Hermione figuring out the one thing that made their Clan remarkable.
"You can't go public with this."
The completely obstinate look on the girl's face made Harry just want to repeatedly bang his head on the desk. She was ridiculous. Didn't she value her life?
"Bloody hell Hermione, this isn't a joke! You can't go blowing one of the top five Clans' secrets for a school assignment in front of an entire class. There's a reason why they haven't shared a damn tutorial on this ability with the rest of the world!"
The alarm from his phone went off and Harry gave a frustrated sigh both at the sound and at Hermione's stubborn expression.
"Look, we'll talk about this later, okay? Just don't go telling anyone else. At least let's talk about it first alright?" Harry said whilst stuffing his book in his bag and sending beseeching looks towards his best friend. She waved at him in a shooing motion.
"Oh honestly Harry just go to class already! We'll talk later."
Giving her a grateful but concerned look Harry quickly ran out of the door. Hermione gave a soft sad sigh at the closing of the door before blinking away the stupid tears that had been desperate to make an appearance during Harry's little rant. He was right of course. She had just gotten caught up in the discovery of everything and had desperately wanted someone to share her excitement with. Pushing aside her disappointment she closed her eyes tiredly. Moving her shadow had really exhausted her out.
"You're only this tired because your chakra store is so low" came the lazy voice of Shikamaru Nara as he pulled up a chair next to her.
His voice echoed in the supposed empty classroom and Hermione shrieked as she nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to stare at him with wide, shocked eyes. It took her three attempts before she could speak.
"Chakra?" She whispered her voice nearly failing her in her shock at the Nara's presence.
"When you mix the spiritual and physical aspects of reiryoku in the body it creates chakra. The body tends to store it. In truth most people have chakra but in miniscule amounts. Only the amount necessary for the body to live."
Despite herself, Hermione became interested in the explanation before Harry's warning about the Naras flashed through her mind. Hermione swallowed, feeling suddenly very nervous of this infuriating boy. Where had he come from? Had he been in the room the entire time? How could he have been there and neither Harry nor herself noticed? Shikamaru slouched in the chair before continuing to speak.
"You're off in two of your calculations and you're missing a couple of sections in your theory but overall you're on the right track. I won't ask where you got the formulas from as we both know it wasn't from a place you should have ever been near to."
He threw her a petulant look.
"You really are a most troublesome female."
He truly meant that too. Shikamaru had felt amused at first when he heard Hermione confessing her curiosity and obsessive research into his Clan shadow ability. She was hardly the first person that had embarked on a mission to figure out how the Nara Clan managed to manipulate shadows. That amusement had quickly changed to shock however when he heard her theories. Then she had actually demonstrated it. This slip of a girl who came from Magical Britain of all backward places, and whom up until this summer hadn't even registered on the Naras' radar had, in just under two months, figured out how to perform one of his Clan's most treasured abilities? By herself? With absolutely no outside help? The sudden rise of intense attraction nearly choked him.
Damn. Double damn. I may actually be in some serious trouble here.
"What a drag" Shikamaru murmured to himself, slouching in the chair even further.
"Now here's what's going to happen. A contract will arrive at your sister's place tomorrow offering you a place in the Nara Clan. Ensure your parents are there as well. It would have gone to your parents' place instead but well going that far is too damn troublesome so at your sister's will do. You'll be there since the contract will require your signature as well. You will sign this contract."
Hermione glared at him completely furious that this boy would attempt to order her around. She stuck her nose in the air and sniffed disdainfully. Shikamaru bit his lip hard to not show his amusement at the snobbish move that reminded him quite a bit of his blond, female team-mate's haughty attitude. The two would probably hate each other within five minutes of being introduced.
"I'm not entirely certain I want to belong to your Clan. I'm still reviewing my options. Perhaps I'll get a better offer from some other Clan who will not rudely dictate to me what I can and cannot do…." began Hermione in an absolutely irritating and bossy tone.
Shikamaru, no longer amused, gave her a blank unimpressed stare. Her eyes widened and she stopped mid rant almost paralyzed in fear as she was hit with a sudden feeling of fear, anger and violence. The Killing Intent Technique. He sighed yet again. What a drag to have to need this. What an irritating girl.
"Mendokuse. You're not going to receive any offer from another Clan. By this time tomorrow the Nara Clan would have informed the necessary persons that you belong to us. You are no longer in a position to negotiate any part of the contract either. You lost that right when you went poking your nose where it didn't belong."
A twinge of guilt bothered him for a moment and he nearly stopped the light killing intent he was aiming at her, before roughly pushing said guilt down with the ease of practice. If he allowed the twit, she'd walk all over him and just dig her grave even deeper. Better she be afraid and do as she's told than be stubborn thereby forcing him to have to kill her. He raised his right hand and gently stroked her cheek trying desperately not to snort with humour out loud. Never did he think he would one day be applying Nara seduction and interrogation tactics to Hermione Granger. Jeez he had complained and tried to sleep through almost every single one of those troublesome lessons. He slowly trailed his hand down to stroke the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. He leaned towards her left ear and she shivered at his warm breath. For a moment, the tantalising scent of coconuts nearly undid him.
"Now what are you going to do when given the contract tomorrow?" he whispered, slightly increasing the strength of the killing intent.
"Sign it" she managed to squeak out under the terrifying feeling, shaking violently with fear. Tears slid down her reddened cheeks.
"Good girl. You see? You do have survival instincts."
He licked his lips, his mouth dry at the feeling of her warm smooth skin. He caught himself stroking the soft curls by her neck in comfort and stilled, a bit baffled at his uncharacteristic behaviour. He withdrew his hand and let go of the technique, causing the horrifying, angry feeling that surrounded her to disappear. He turned away as she desperately tried to stifle her crying.
Letting out another soft drawn out sigh, the heir to the Nara Clan stood up and casually walked to the door trying not to let on how much those tears had actually affected him. Stopping in the doorway he threw a few more words at the trembling mess of a girl in the chair.
"Congratulations on being the first person to have ever been invited to join the Nara Clan before even starting New Blood. You should be proud."
The sound of her sobs as he closed the door shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did.
Conversation Between Jacque & Slytherin (Modern English Version)
"And what would you do about it if given the opportunity?"
"I would bar muggleborns from attending Hogwarts, kind sir. Those children are a security risk to those who practice magic."
"You aren't making any sense. The untrained will only reveal your world further to those who have not been blessed with the gift. Pray tell, do you have any other solution?"
Jacque immediately noticed Slytherin's hesitation.
"Come on out with it, sir. Speak your mind!"
"I have often thought that the muggleborns should be in a school of their own. They are completely ignorant of our history or way of life. Also the muggles use them to hunt down our children! I would rather them trained but how can we give them information of our identities then send them back to those who hate us? It is common sense to want to protect oneself."
Jacque nodded to himself. These were good arguments.
"And would you lead such a school? Would you be willing to teach what must be taught if given a safe environment to do so?"
The shocked look on Slytherin's face quickly morphed into a disgusted one.
"The muggles killed my own. Why would I want to teach their disgusting offsprings? I would rather kill the swines and squeeze the red wine out of their maggot spawns until their bastards lay as lifeless as my own. Those whores mistakes who have stolen the magic from the bosom of my superior race whilst leading their sires to our doorsteps. Get rid of them I say! Get rid of them like the plagues that they are!"
Taken aback, Jacque felt suspicion rise within him.
"What were you doing previously that you got hurt so badly? Surely one such as yourself is not involved in anything unscrupulous?"
The truly horrendous smile that crossed Slytherin's face answered it all.
"I am simply sharing the feeling of my loss with others so they may share in my sorrow. An eye for an eye Sir. I did not make the rules."