ZA: It feels like we're typing this in the wrong season.
Snape: Typing what? What are you doing? How did you get a computer into the Slytherin common room?
ZA: That is of no importance. The important thing is…this is going to be hilarious.
Snape: What did you do?
ZA: The question is What am I going to do?
Snape: If you weren't in my own house, I would take points. I'll just take points from your mother instead. Twenty points from Ravenclaw!
Crispy Rice Burroughs: Hey! I'm just typing whatever she tells me to!
ZA: I didn't tell you to type that.
Snape: Just do the disclaimer already, Miss Crispy.
CRB: That's MRS. Crispy. Sigh. Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter or Bleach. Or Monty Python. Or the patent for Christmas crackers. Or Nabisco crackers. Mmm…Wheat Thins…
"English"
"Japanese" (during chapters which occur in England)
'Thoughts'
Parseltongue
Chapter 21: Christmas with the Kurosakis
"Make way!"
"For the Heir of Slytherin!"
Fred and George shouted over the noise of the crowd as they escorted Haru through the corridors to breakfast. Haru had a knitted snake scarf draped around his neck and was wearing a green bedsheet as a cape. Someone had painted a silver serpent in the center of the cape and enchanted it to hiss and slither menacingly.
Hermione was following a bit further back than usual in an attempt to distance herself from the Boy Who Would Milk This For All It Was Worth. Ron was just wondering whether there would be waffles.
As Lee Jordan jumped ahead to push open the doors to the Great Hall, Draco glanced up from his kippers and heaved an exasperated sigh before burying his face in his palm. This was really getting old.
Rather than being dismayed and insulted by the ridiculous assumptions that his parseltongue abilities were an obvious sign of dark magic, Haru and a few of his Gryffindor friends had embraced the role of murderous wizard and company with all the flair of a mediocre, community theatrical troupe operating on a limited budget. It was a travesty.
Standing before the Gryffindor table, Haru turned to wave the twins aside. "That will be all, Earls of Burrow." The twins knelt before their master and kissed the massive, green, apple-flavored ring pop adorning Haru's left index finger as he smiled benevolently upon them. Then Haru took a seat and began helping himself to eggs and bacon. 'At least he's no longer insisting on Ron testing his food beforehand,' Draco thought. Not that Ron had minded all that much – until Hermione had pointed out that it was in case the food had been poisoned. Ron had been pretty miffed by that. Haru had assured him it was all just to poke fun at the idiots in the other houses, and surely nobody would actually be able to sneak poison past the house elves in the kitchens.
Draco looked to the head table to find Professor Snape behaving as if nothing unusual were occurring. Well, that was certainly the truth. This charade had been going on for nearly a week. Personally, Draco found the whole thing rather insulting. The Heir of Slytherin a Gryffindor? Impossible. Nor would he be parading around in a bedsheet with an enormous muggle lolly on his finger. There was no end to the gullibility of some students. At least Haru's previous scam involving the over-effective ofuda had been quashed, and sweethearts John Wexley and Sarah Butters had finally reunited in the Ravenclaw common room.
Dumbledore turned those infernally twinkly eyes to Snape. "So, Severus, you've yet to inform me where you're running off to this Christmas. Planning an extended brewing session at Spinner's End, perhaps?" As if the potions master had nothing better to do than slave over a boiling cauldron for two weeks.
"Actually, Headmaster, I've received an invitation to a private gathering overseas."
McGonagall peered at him from Dumbledore's other side. "Will you be attending the Annual Las Vegas Potions Convention in America?"
Snape raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. "No self-respecting brewer would brave that environment, Minerva. The muggles may believe all of that 'global warming' propaganda the American Ministry generates, but the miasma that hangs above that city is the result of dangerously lax brewing safety regulations. Too many Longbottoms set loose on an unsuspecting public. Of course, the inevitable loss of common sense makes for a boom in the gambling and wedding industries."
Dumbledore smiled fondly. "I just love a good wedding."
In fact, Snape's mysterious invite had come from a surprising source. Not entirely sure what he was getting into, Snape had accepted on the grounds that at least the number of dunderheads he'd be exposed to would be significantly reduced.
Haru flopped down on his bed, grateful to be done with international portkeys for the next two weeks. Ahhh…home.
Haru! Your new green ssskin isss mossst becoming.
What? Haru glanced down to find he was still wearing his Heir of Slytherin costume. Oh, that. Thanksss, Tatsssuo. Dean made it for me. How have thingsss been here in Japan? Hasss Dad given up the sssearch for hisss guitar yet?
Yesss. And he appearsss to have absssolved me of any wrongdoing. He presssented me with a lovely moussse yesssterday. It was deliciousss. I like the white onesss bessst. The grey ones are too sssour.
Miccce are sssour? Haru asked.
Jussst the grey onesss. I sssussspect it'sss a regional flavor.
Haru grinned and presented Tatsuo with a plump, juicy, brown field mouse. I sssuppossse that meansss you're too full for dessssssssert?
Ooh! Chocolate! Tatsuo slithered in pleasure.
The brown onesss tassste like chocolate? Wait, do you even know what chocolate tassstesss like?
I may have sssnuck a tassste of one of your father'sss puddingsss. Yuzu alssso getsss me chocolate covered cricketsss. They're delightfully crunchy, but with a sssoft cccenter, the serpent hissed dreamily.
Ichigo walked into the room just then and did a double take when he saw Haru's outfit. "Why are you still wearing that ridiculous thing?"
"Why are you still wearing that ridiculous thing, my Lord," Haru corrected him.
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Better get cleaned up. Dad's invited what he's referring to as 'an illustrious guest' for dinner. Apparently, the guy's a 'true pioneer in his field'."
Haru sat up in alarm. "It's not another surgeon, is it?"
"Don't know," Ichigo shuddered, "but I'm hoping for a phlebotomist."
"Seriously?" Haru asked him.
Ichigo shrugged. "The worst he could do is demonstrate bloodletting techniques by draining the turkey of all of its natural juices. I'd rather eat dry turkey than pick stitches out of my teeth for a week."
"And after Yuzu went to all the trouble of carving it in such thin slices, too."
Both brothers sighed, remembering Christmases past.
"Do you suppose whoever it is will be staying for the duration of the holidays?" Haru asked.
"I think so. It sounded like this guy's from really far away. Maybe Hokaido."
"My sons!" Isshin called from downstairs. "Our illustrious guest is due to arrive any minute now! Hurry down here and present yourselves!"
"Sounds like Dad's home," Haru said as the two brothers scrambled downstairs. In his haste, Haru forgot to change his ensemble, and his makeshift cape billowed behind him.
"It takes a true Slytherin to make a dramatic entrance, Mr. Kurosaki. Kindly leave the billowing to the professionals."
"Professor Snape!" Haru exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, there are entirely too many children running about there. I've accepted your father's invitation for a quiet, family Christmas."
Isshin beamed proudly. "Surprise, Haru! I've invited your favorite professor to join us for this joyous occasion, and I've taken extra measures to ensure it is a traditional, British Christmas for everyone."
Nothing could have prepared Haru for the reality of that statement. 'Poor Professor Snape will never know what hit him.'
"I've got some biscuit tins so that we can play Spot the Nudist*," Isshin declared after the group had spent an afternoon caroling at Kurakara General Hospital while wearing costumes from a Charles Dickens book. Their illustrious guest had reluctantly accepted the dubious honor of playing Tiny Tim – crutch and all – but refused to recite the line "Please, sir, may I have some more?" as he insisted that it was from an entirely different story.
"Spot the Nudist?" Snape carefully inquired.
"Oh yes!" Isshin nodded eagerly. "I read all about it in the papers. Apparently, it's really popular, but the tins are awfully hard to come by. Of course, nothing's too good for our illustrious guest."
Snape wasn't entirely sure he appreciated the tremendous lengths that Isshin Kurosaki had obviously gone to in order to make his stay in Japan as close to a "traditional British Christmas" as possible. All sorts of British customs – fictional or otherwise – had been strung together to fill their days and evenings with memory-making experiences. Isshin had promised to send him copies of all the copious photographs he'd taken, and Snape made a mental note to burn them before they circulated around the school. He was certain that Haru would gladly join forces with him in that endeavor.
"I don't believe I've ever had occasion to participate in this particular game," the potions master said, casting a surreptitious glance at the younger children in the family.
Isshin followed his gaze and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Don't worry, I gave them the ordinary ones. They'll still have fun looking, but they won't be exposed to anything unsavory."
"Of course. How wise of you," Snape agreed.
Finally Christmas Eve arrived to find Isshin in the kitchen with a very worried Yuzu hovering about him, wringing her hands like a distraught house elf. "Dad, are you sure you don't need any help?" she asked, as he brandished a large meat tenderizer above his head.
"I'm fine," Isshin assured his daughter. "Now let me just finish mushing these peas before I check on the goose. Now out of the kitchen. Go entertain our illustrious guest."
Ichigo rubbed his stomach as it emitted a loud, rumbling noise. "What's taking Dad so long?" he asked Yuzu.
"He forgot to thaw out the goose," Yuzu explained. "It's going to be a while."
Snape looked startled. "He's only just doing that now? How large is it?"
"Um…about 10 kg," Yuzu confessed.
Snape sighed in exasperation. "I believe I shall have to insist on the ancient British Wizarding custom of the illustrious guest roasting the Christmas goose with magic," he informed the children as he strode purposefully into the kitchen to salvage the evening's meal. At least one dish would be edible. Quiet cheers erupted behind him.
After a surprisingly uneventful dinner, including a superbly roasted goose, Isshin broke out a package of suspicious-looking Christmas crackers. They looked to be of dubious manufacture. The largest among them had been decorated with snitches and cauldrons. "Haru, you and Professor Snape may start with this one!" Isshin declared proudly.
"Uh…Dad?" Haru looked questioningly from the cracker to his father and then back to the cracker again. "Where did you get these?"
"I purchased them. Like everyone does," Isshin assured him. Then, after registering the dubious looks from his children, he added, "Well, I tried to purchase them, but they didn't have any big enough for our illustrious guest. So I looked up the instructions on the internet." More dubious looks. "I followed them exactly!" he insisted. "Mostly," he amended. "I added the pictures?"
Haru and Snape exchanged a wary glance, steeled themselves for who knew what, and nodded to each other. "On the count of three, Kurosaki. One…two…two and a half…three!"
BOOM!
The smoke cleared to reveal Haru and Snape looking a bit singed in the face. Smoldering bits of paper and melted plastic toys littered the table. Across the room, a pink, relatively intact, paper crown dangled from the corner of Masaki's memorial poster.
"I think we'll let Mom have that one," Karin said.
"Dad?" asked Ichigo, his dazed voice drifting up from somewhere behind the couch, "What did you use to make them go Boom?"
"Well, the kit had these things called 'cracker snaps', but they weren't very impressive. I substituted a little recipe of my own that uses just a tiny amount of black powder."
"And what is the imperial equivalent to 'a tiny amount'?" Snape inquired.
"Ten…grams."
Everyone backed away from the remaining pile of crackers. "Perhaps," Isshin suggested faintly, "our illustrious guest would prefer to view a popular British film instead of more crackers?"
"Great idea, Dad!" Haru jumped up and motioned for Snape to follow him into the next room where a pile of DVDs sat in front of the television. "What shall we watch?"
"Oh, I've already inserted the disc, son," Isshin told him. "Just push PLAY."
"Dentist On the Job?" Snape read aloud from the screen as the opening credits rolled. "Does this have anything to do with Granger's parents?"
"Don't look at me," Haru said. "I've always thought of myself as Japanese."
"A moose bit my sister?"
"See the lovely lakes?"
"British people are weird."
"Hush, Karin!" Yuzu whispered loudly. "Maybe it's an art film."
"The people in charge of the credits have been sacked." 'Well, that's a relief,' thought Snape.
Eventually, the bizarre credits sequence, which included llamas, was replaced by English countryside. Distant hoofbeats sounded as two shapes emerged from the fog – two men: the first appeared to be riding an imaginary horse as the second followed behind while banging two coconut halves together. 'Coconuts in England?' This film obviously wasn't striving for historical accuracy.
Gradually, as the movie continued, Snape seemed to be warming to it. His originally disturbed expression gave way to confusion and then mild amusement. By the time the witch scene rolled around, Snape was providing his own pithy commentary.
"So…if she weighs the same as a duck…then…she's made of wood…and therefore…she's A WITCH!"
"It's like watching Crabbe and Goyle solve simple children's riddles," Snape mused.
"The elder or younger pair?" Haru asked.
"Is there a difference?" Snape smirked.
By the time the last of the end credits rolled up the screen, Everyone was holding their sides, their bellies aching from too much laughter. Haru thought he'd even seen a mirthful tear or two roll down Snape's face. Not a bad save for a crazy, traditional, British Christmas.
Omaki:
Dumbledore's Office
"You called, Albus?" Minerva entered the cluttered office to find her friend sitting at his desk, peering intently at a biscuit tin.
"Ah, Minerva! I've just received a package from Severus. He says you might appreciate it as well."
"Biscuits from Japan?" Minerva inquired.
"What? Oh, no. They're British. I think. Not entirely sure, but I think…" The headmaster suddenly seemed a bit distracted by whatever he was looking at on the tin. Perhaps it was a wizarding brand, and the characters were arguing.
"Let me see, Albus," Minerva leaned in closer.
"What? Oh! No, I think perhaps you might still be a bit full from that wonderful feast we just had," Dumbledore pulled the tin against his chest, looking slightly guilty.
"Now, Albus. You know my fondness for biscuits, but I do promise not to eat them all myself," Minerva leveled her gaze at the man, whose eyes were not twinkling so much as they were darting to the side and refusing to look her in the eye.
Minerva cleared her throat. "Albus. Hand over the biscuits. Now."
"Ahem. Very well, Minerva, but remember that you insisted."
…
"Are those…? Good heavens! Really, Albus! I should think you and Severus capable of keeping your depravities to yourselves!"
The Kurosaki's Living Room
Haru heard a loud crash coming from downstairs. He sleepily made his way to the top landing to find his brother and sisters already gathered there. Ichigo was holding his phone.
"What's going on?" he asked Ichigo.
"Dad and Snape have been enjoying that bottle of Firewhiskey Snape brought," Ichigo whispered. "I'm filming the results."
"I don't know whether to stop you or hug you," Haru said with awe. "Of course, I'll never be able to show anyone. Probably. Maybe. Who wants to live forever?"
"So then…then I told him he only had…th—three days to live," Isshin slurred. "He was deve—deve—really sad."
"That's so – sad," Snape agreed.
"Yes," Isshin nodded solemnly. "Espe—Espesh—eshpesh…"
"You's inde—ineee—inebrribrat—you's sloshed," Snape giggled. 'Giggled?'
"Shut up," Isshin looked affronted. "I could drink you under the table any day of the week."
"We're already under the table," Snape pointed out.
"Oh, yeah. When did that happen? I was wondering how my house got so small."
ZA: For those of you wondering about the Spot the Nudist* game, I refer you to this BBC article: . /2/hi/uk_
Snape: And just where might I find the recording of my private conversation with Mr. Isshin?
ZA: Uh…Mom?
Crispy: Don't look at me. I just type whatever you tell me to.
ZA: Well, I'm sure you don't need to worry about that. Ever. Really. Stop looking at me like that.
Snape: Forty points from Ravenclaw!