Yessss … it's been a while. Luckily for you, my creative energy has been all over the place and a little bit of inspiration dropped into this chapter. This is currently my distraction fic from CoaCh:)
Things go … not well per se, but better than expected. Kakashi is a quiet houseguest. He tidies up after himself, spends most of the day in his room, and the only sign that he eats at all is that sometimes a little food goes missing from the kitchen. The only disconcerting thing at all is the way he, pleasantly but firmly, told them not to enter his room without permission. She'd confessed to him, a little worriedly, that this might only egg on Fred and George. But the man had only crinkled an eye at her and said, "Not to worry. I'm really good with kids."
Now that she thinks about it, that had been a little more disconcerting still.
Whether or not the strange man knows how to handle children has not been put to the test yet. Ron is appropriately intimidated by the masked stranger and she hasn't let Ginny leave her sight for more than a few minutes. But in a week's time Hermione will arrive and oh lord, will that be a sight to see.
There are several bets going on between Sirius, the twins and – surprisingly – Remus about how and when the girl is going to corner the poor man.
"I'm telling you, I give it two days at the most," Sirius insists. He's grinning in a way she hasn't seen since they met for the first time, months ago. Remus shakes his head.
"No, no, she's going to wait at least a week. Feel out the situation … see if someone else has already asked. Her research is very thorough, very systematic; I should know, I was her teacher."
Both of them had at least five gallons put down the last time she heard. Fred pushes two coins forward with his fingers.
"And we still think she's not going to make it a whole day. In fact, these two sickles say she'll march right up to him as soon as she hears about it."
Molly whacks his hand and snatches the money off the table.
"And where did you get this, young man? I don't recall giving you that much pocket money."
"We saved," George says, fishing the money back out of her hand, "like responsible adults."
"So, so – and now you're gambling with it like responsible adults? I don't think so."
Her son is quick to let the coins vanish back into his pockets.
"It's a sucker bet, mum," Fred grins at her, "Or do you really think Hermione's that patient?"
Privately, she doesn't. Not that she'd admit it. But Hermione, bless the girl, is one of the nosiest people she's ever met.
"No gambling!" she warns him, but lets it slide when George carefully slips the coins into Sirius' hand as soon as her back is turned. One would think the trouble they had with Ludovic Bagman last year would have taught them better.
The day of Harry's arrival inches closer. Ron dreads it as much as he's looking forward to it. It's been weeks since he last saw his best friend but, while some things might admittedly escape him, the tone of Harry's letters has taken a nose dive that makes even him sit up and take notice.
Hermione's arrival, scheduled for about four tomorrow afternoon, triggers similarly conflicting feelings.
On the one hand Grimmauld Place is making his skin itch all by himself and Hermione will surely know what to do about Harry. On the other hand … Ron's eyes slowly creep up to the ceiling, or more specifically, the room above, where Mr. … Hatake has holed up. Fred and George aren't the only ones scenting a confrontation. While Dumbledore might be delighted about the strange man's presence, he gives Ron the creeps.
He can't even be entirely sure why. There are no strange smells or noises coming from the room – no matter what Sirius keeps insisting – and the few times he's seen Mr. Hatake he's been unfailingly polite and friendly, if short. And yet. Something about that smile seems entirely fake. If he's so happy to help them and such a good person, why in Merlin's name does he never come down? What sort of important things could he possibly be doing in his room? There's something fishy about all this and if Hermione won't throw herself head first into an investigation, Harry will.
Ginny for one looks as if there's nothing she'd rather do.
"Oh come on!" she hisses at him. "Just a peek! He hasn't warded the door; as far as I know he doesn't even lock it. Mom says he can't even do magic, so it's not as if he'll know."
"He will," Ron grouches, "if we open the door while he's bloody inside! It's not as if he ever leaves."
His sister gives a vague shrug.
"Fred said that Dumbledore's coming tonight – last full Order meeting before Harry comes. He'll have to come down then."
Ah damn, there goes his last excuse.
"Why don't you ask Fred and George? I really don't want to go up there."
"Coward." Her nose scrunches up in annoyance. "And it's not like I didn't ask them. But they'd rather wait a day longer and just throw Hermione under the Hippogriff."
Of course they do. He seriously doubts his brothers are as wary of the man as he is; they probably only find it more amusing this way. Or they simply fear Hermione more and think that in a pinch she'd win the fight. And while Ron would bet money on Hermione any day, Mr. Hatake isn't a sort of weird they're familiar with. Who knows what he's hiding in that room. His red-headed sister sighs dramatically. "And all the bragging rights will go to someone who doesn't even care."
"Bohoo, Gin. Mum will string us up by our ankles, so no thanks."
"So you are scared."
"Of mum, yes. And so are you," he reminds her. Ginny only shrugs sheepishly. Grimmauld Place is driving them all crazy. No wonder Sirius looks so … not put together. The house reeks of dark magic and is also bloody depressing. Ron has no idea how someone would voluntarily spend any time here; Sirius' mum and dad must have been complete nutters.
Kakashi, for his part, is still trying to wrap his head around the whole magic business. Albus was nice – or rather practical – enough to give him access not only to the Black library, but also every book in his personal one. Books are currently piling up in every corner of his room; he's pretty sure if Molly Weasley were to spontaneously walk in she'd have a stroke. Therefore Kakashi has taken extra care to close the door firmly behind him whenever he leaves the room.
He's halfway through a book on the history of magic – so many wars, he's almost impressed – and mostly done with the fourth grade books on transfiguration and potions. Arithmancy seems useful but was worked through pretty quickly; math has never given him problems after all. No, it's going well so far.
Of course he still has no idea what is really going on. All Kakashi currently knows is that there's an enemy – a Dark Lord, who is after this Harry Potter boy. His first instinct is to scoff, after all what would a powerful wizard want with a boy, but then he remembers Orochimaru and Sasuke and everything suddenly makes a lot more sense. He sincerely hopes that this is where the similarities between the two boys end, or he can just re-pack his bags and go home.
Tonight Albus is going to call the entire 'Order' together for a meeting. He will be formally inducted there, something Kakashi doesn't look forward to in the least. Wizards, for all their magical attack power, do seem a lot like civilians to him. Fussy, easily frightened, easily offended. Meeting the headmaster had given him the fleeting hope that maybe this mission wouldn't demand a stiff posture and a grim face all the time, but this McGonagall lady and the ill-tempered Snape fellow quickly taught him differently. But hey, he's not the type to let that squash all his fun.
If he's right, it's only a matter of time before the red-headed pair of twins or their sister will try to sneak into his room. They're in for a surprise, he thinks, letting his finger pluck at the almost invisible wire that connects the door to a load of smoke and pepper bombs. Perfectly harmless and very unpleasant.
A half finished report is buried under a heavy tome titled 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', waiting for him to wrap it up. It's not a very detailed one, but the Godaime will just have to deal. Whatever they'll speak about tonight, he sincerely doubts that he'll have enough time to write it all down and give it to Professor Dumbledore to pass on before he leaves again. Kakashi drags his fingers through his hair, grabbing his hitai-ate contemplatively. Should he get rid of it? It's not as if it would be much trouble to just keep the damn eye closed. Let them think he lost it.
He also grudgingly agrees with McGonagall that the mask will probably have to go. He still feels naked without it though. For a moment Kakashi contemplates his cloak, a thin, wooly thing that looks as fancy as it looks foreign. He folds up the soft collar, pleased to see that it can be buttoned up a little higher. The end result gapes open a bit and doesn't quite reach his nose, but a well-placed genjutsu should be enough to fix that.
He doesn't look like himself anymore, Kakashi thinks, not sure whether to be pleased about that or not. Surely most people would walk past him now, even with his rather fearsome reputation. Not those who mattered, but most. He tries to flatten his hair a little, just to see what would happen, but the Hatake genes seem stronger than him. After a few tries he gives up with a sigh and a wistful smile tugging at his mouth. Aw, well. He looks … harmless now. Less like a ninja, more like a civilian. It's not the first time he has to disguise himself for an infiltration mission, but the first time he'll have to keep it up for such a long time.
By the time he was old enough for deep-cover missions, the Elders had already realized his Sharingan and Chidori would be much more use in ANBU, so that particular honor passed him by. He wonders what sort of ninja he'll have to be. A professional, someone to follow? A friend they can trust? A soldier, teacher, tool? And should it matter? Strictly speaking only Professor Dumbledore is his client, and in case of his death, Kakashi's contract will pass over to Harry Potter. All he needs to worry about is their opinion. But then again … he's always been a team player and a war can't be won by one person alone.
In any case, tonight will be very interesting. Maybe this could be fun after all.
When Albus Dumbledore sets foot into Grimmauld Place number 12, the entire house seems to brighten a little. It's not just Sirius' imagination – the place is soaked in dark magic and the echoes of desolation. The headmaster is a beacon of benevolence, steady yet forceful, and the entire house seems to shirk away from him. Sirius watches the shadows under the stairs shrink as the wizard climbs them and observes gleefully how the portraits turn their backs, eyes resentful and wary; even his mother is suspiciously quiet. "Say, Sirius, how has it been?"
"Hmm … so so," he hedges. He hates this house. No matter how glad Sirius is to see the headmaster, it doesn't mean he has to make it easy on the old man. Not after being grounded here like a misbehaving teenager. The professor turns his head back a little, glasses glinting in the low light of the candles.
"Come now, Sirius. Surely Mr. Hatake has been very entertaining for you."
At this Sirius has to snort. It's true – even, or maybe especially, in his absence that ninja fellow has shown to be very entertaining. Everyone is fretting about the stranger in their headquarters, even while said stranger doesn't seem bothered in the least. Either the guy is stupidly oblivious, or he gets off on the chaos. Both would be funny, he has to admit.
"Oh, he's entertaining all right. Can't wait to introduce him to Harry and see what happens." The thought of his godson brightens Sirius' face immediately and without concious thought. Just a few more days, he thinks wistfully. He can do a few more days. "So what exactly is he supposed to do here?" The older wizard hums noncommittally.
"It's best if we wait for the others to arrive. I'm afraid some of them will be quite unhappy with me about it." Sirius raises his eyebrows. Unhappy with Albus? That would be new. Though if it's Snape who'll blow his top, Sirius will gladly sit and watch with a cup of tea in hand.
The sitting room with its three doors is probably not the best place for a meeting, but Molly hasn't quite finished cleaning out the kitchen yet, so they'll have to improvise. "I locked the twins in their room," the Weasley matriarch announces, stuffing her sons' wands into her apron pocket with a satisfied huff. "And Ginny and Ron know I'll hex their ears into cauliflower if they try to listen in. I think we are good for now." Next to her Arthur winces in sympathy, as if he's intimately familiar with having cauliflower for ears.
There weren't couches and armchairs, so they levitated in chairs from the kitchen and an assortment of furniture from the library and the decrypt, doxy infested drawing room. Sirius watches in amusement how tall, stately Kingsley Shacklebolt surveys the occupied chairs with disappointment and then squeezes into a faded old loveseat with equally tall but very lean Hestia Jones. The woman's face briefly twists into something awkward before smoothing over when she catches Sirius looking at them. 'Screw you,' her eyes say and Sirius winks at her.
Exactly seven minutes after the appointed time even Mundungus Fletcher has finally found his way into the room and Albus claps his narrow hands with surprising strength.
"If I may have your attention! Minerva, are you taking minutes?… Yes, very well then. As you may know, this is our last meeting before Hestia and Dedalus retrieve Mr. Potter from his aunt and uncle's home. I assume everything is in order there?"
Hestia nods enthusiastically. "They'll be out of the house when we get there."
"Wonderful. Now, if you'd walk us through the plan once more."
Sirius tunes them out. Hestia and Dedalus are more than a little eccentric, but they're both very capable and, in Hestia's case also very shrewd. Whatever plan they've come up with, Sirius is confident they'll pull it off without a hitch. Especially now, while You-know-who is still laying pretty low. The part that really interests him, more than how they faked a competition about lawn maintenance, who is patrolling the Department of Mysteries, and frankly also what pettiness Percy Weasley threw at his parents' head this time around, seems to be scheduled for last. Probably because the protests are bound to be spectacular.
"Now," the old wizard finally announces while most of the Order members' thoughts already seem to be on dinner, "a five minute break, and then we will have something else to discuss."
His face is serious enough to make even Shacklebolt lean forward in anticipation, but then Albus stands up with a flourish, startling them out of the tense atmosphere. "But first, tea."