I'm on a roll – enjoy it while it lasts.
And yes, we're going to move on to canon eventually, but for now this is just supposed to be fun. Also, because we have a lot of different perspectives, there are a lot of end goals for this fic. Ideally, everyone gets their own specific ending. So basically, this is several fics rolled into one, with Kakashi as the focal point:)
There's a knock on Kakashi's door. For a moment he allows himself to get a feel for the unfamiliar chakra signature – young, civilian, strangely erratic in the way these folks just seem to feel. Then he opens the door with a genial crinkle of his eye. The girl on the other side seems surprised at her marginal success. But then she visibly steels herself. "Hello," she says primly.
"Miss Granger," he acknowledges and watches how her eyes widen in surprise.
"How do you know my name?" she blurts out before she can catch herself.
"I did my homework," he replies, somewhat bemused by her wry answering expression.
"I came to introduce myself," she says, "but it seems that's unnecessary?" Clever girl, he thinks approvingly.
"I see," he demurs. "Well then, Miss Granger, you may come in anyway. A name does not make an introduction, after all."
She's still too young to entirely squash the triumph in her eyes, but there's promise here, he realizes. She steps cautiously into his room, eyes zeroing in on the clutter of books that towers on his desk. Kakashi isn't quite oblivious to the rumors that surround his room but he's still not sure what the girl expected. Whatever it was, it seems he defied expectations. Business as usual.
"Course work for … fifth years? And is that a sixth year Transfiguration textbook? You're working your way through the Hogwarts curriculum."
"Correct. As I'm sure you've been told, I'm unfamiliar with wizards as a whole."
"And witches," she corrects almost absentmindedly. "'Wizards' is not the collective noun. You can use 'Magicals', if you must." Kakashi files it away under 'potentially useful' and simply watches her go through his books with remarkably few qualms. There also seems no shame about being caught gossiping about him. Kurenai, he thinks. She reminds him of Kurenai. She sorts through his Potions and Charms books for the Hogwarts fifth years, noting the pages he dog eared.
"How fast can you read?" she asks. "Because I have notes for this year – I guess I can copy them for you." She's being either a bit rude or very practical; Kakashi can't quite decide which one. But if she's really as close to Harry Potter as Albus described, he can at least be sure that Hermione will cooperate, should the boy dig his heels in. He can deal with rudeness – it's not as if it isn't one of his own specialties.
So, "How kind, Miss Granger," is what he says, even though the Sharingan speeds the reading process up considerably and he prefers having all the information. Finally she turns to look at him again, this time sizing him up in an entirely different way that definitely means business.
"I trust Professor Dumbledore," she says, "but I know you'll have to be around Harry too, not just the Order. What are you supposed to do with him?" She already looks to be gearing up for a fight should he deny her the information. Kakashi crinkles his eye at her, leaning forward in a way he knows to be intimidating.
"Don't you worry about that. Right now I have absolutely no plans to even talk to your Harry. Right now my dealings are entirely with your headmaster." When she still looks dissatisfied he adds, "If that changes we can discuss terms again, if you like."
Hermione isn't sure whether to be happy or annoyed quite yet. She's … both. Cautiously both. Mr. Hatake isn't what she expected. At first glance he seems like a very nice man. Maybe he even is, even if he makes something small and persistent niggle at the back of her head. But she can't help but feel certain that he's also a lot smarter than she feared. It should be a good thing, he's on their side apparently, but it lets him play her like a fiddle.
'Your Harry' he said, with the intent to embarrass her. Which he did, just a little. And now he's leaning towards her, towering over her by almost two heads. The collar of his cloak casts eerie shadows over his face and up close the scar over his eye looks brutal and intimidating. The remaining one is a cold, hard gray. 'Discuss terms' – another try to embarrass her. This time it doesn't work. He's good, but if someone tries to get at Harry they will have to discuss terms with Ron and her.
"Well," she tries, "we will do that." A simple good-bye seems incredibly awkward now, so she nods at him manfully and, after he manfully nods back, walks out the door. It's not as rewarding as she thought it would be; in fact it feels a little like a retreat.
Ginny and the twins wait at the end of the stairs for her. There's an eager grin on the twins' faces as they both sling an arm around her. "You were in his room," George says and it sounds like a question and an accusation at once. "How did you do that?"
"I knocked," she says simply and for a moment they all stare at her.
"Huh," Ginny finally manages. "We didn't think of that one."
"You won the twins a bet," Ron can't help but point out. "Against Sirius and Professor Lupin. That makes you their current favorite person, so be careful."
"Yes," she says, thankfully sounding resigned rather than annoyed with him. "I remember the last time they were grateful to me." Ron does too. Vividly. Hermione slides down into an armchair and they sit in silence for a few moments. She's fiddling with her shirt, Ron aimlessly shuffles a deck of cards; a remainder of an earlier game of Exploding Snap with his sister. "Are we good?" he then finally asks, unable to phrase it any better. But Hermione gets it, nodding carefully and motioning for him to hand her the cards.
"We're good." They both look up to the ceiling, an uneasy silence settling over them. Ron picks up his hand and grimaces.
Harry won't like this at all.
The moment Harry Potter steps into Grimmauld Place 12, Molly Weasley can see the storm brewing in his eyes, so she only gives him a quick but firm hug and lets her youngest son handle it. It's a bit … cowardly, maybe, but she knows Harry is a teenage boy and needs to let off steam. If he yelled at her, it wouldn't only hurt Molly herself; she knows Harry wouldn't forgive himself for it either.
So she strides back into the kitchen with a vague mention of tea and listens for the sound of the explosion. It's almost impressive – Harry doesn't only look like his father; now that his voice has stopped breaking, he also sounds like James when he yells. Ron and Hermione's appeasing babble seems almost feeble in comparison. She rubs her forehead, hit by a disorienting bout of nostalgia.
"That boy," she sighs at Arthur, who wisely stayed in the kitchen and is munching on a biscuit. Humor tugs at her husband's expression.
"That boy," he agrees mildly. "Charlie had a phase like that; do you remember?"
"Of course I remember – two summers in which he and Bill nearly shouted the roof down. I'm not surprised he's such a hit with the dragons. Like calls to like." Arthur snorts. They're both well aware where all their boys get their tempers from. And Ginny – dear Merlin, Ginny. She loves them all, but their children are dangerous. A fact that used to worry her; now she thanks all her ancestors for it – maybe they'll all make it through the war.
Charlie has long since calmed down, but he never lost the quiet fire. She hopes it'll be the same for Harry. "Give it an hour or two," Arthur advises. "You can coddle him later. He needs his friends now. And Sirius." He gives her a pointed look here and Molly winces. Yes, he needs Sirius – his godfather. Who, yet again last night, reminded her to step back for a moment. She understands, she really does. Harry is all he has and the boy clings to him. They are family – brothers more than father and son or uncle and nephew, but they fit. So yes, she understands, but it also stings a little.
As soon as the noise dies down upstairs, the tension drains out of her. The worst is over. Almost.
"I'm going to talk to Mr. Hatake," she sighs. "I think it would be best if Harry meets him over food."
Fred would love to know who had the genius idea to introduce Harry to their creepy ninja over dinner. He loves it, of course, and Georgie is a barely contained ball of giddiness beside him. But everyone else looks ready to just flee the room. It's definitely one of the tenser dinners he's ever had and that includes the time dad caught Bill sneaking around behind the shed with the neighbor girl and a bottle of Odgen's. He can't help but let a smile crawl across his face.
"Charlie and the Odgen's?" George asks quietly and Fred only grins wider. They've sat down right next to Mr. Hatake – Kakashi, as mum now calls him – just to see her frown awkwardly at them past the man's genial smile. Across the table Harry's suspicious eyes are fixed on their newcomer, caught between curiosity, distrust and a healthy amount of brewing obsession. The same way he usually looks at Malfoy. This can go one of two ways and Fred loves them both.
Of course they'll keep an eye on the 'ninja' – Harry is basically family, so they're not going to let him walk right into something he can't or doesn't have to handle. But watching him flail around a little, well that's a different animal. "So, Kakashi," George starts, pointedly not watching their mothers' eyes sharpen, "what do you do in your free time?"
"I read a lot," he says, sounding pleased for some reason. The twins both stare at him.
"That's good!" Tonks pipes up, waving her fork encouragingly. "Respectable hobby – like Hermione, right?" The girl in question nods vigorously.
"Maybe I can lend you a book sometime. I would also love to read some of your favorites," she offers in her typically misguided but good-natured way. Kakashi makes an amused noise.
"Certainly. Though maybe later … much later." And Fred could swear he hears an 'In a year or ten' tacked on quietly. His eyes widen, gears whirring in his head. George's eyes slowly turn towards him, the same ideas whirling around in his head.
"That was practically an invitation," his brother reasons, after dinner. "Nobody but us heard; and … he knows us by now, doesn't he? After a week?"
"We're practically the best of friends. He can't have expected us to just - …"
"Leave it alone? No way. But we need to be cleverer than the last time."
George grunts in disgust. "Pepper bombs. How embarrassing. You know who we need?"
"Hermione." – "Ginny," they say at once. A moment of silence follows. Then his brother looks at him. "No," he says very firmly. "No, Fred. Bad idea. Just … no."
"But why not?" he can't help but burst out. "We need her brains – we have no idea how he rigged the door and I'll bet my underpants that she knows more spells to get into someone's room undetected than both of us and Lee put together."
"Yes," George says, eyes wide in exasperation, "but she has also … what do they call them? – Oh yeah, 'principles'. Hold a wand to Harry's head and maybe she'll consider. But as it is, she'll tell mum quicker than you can say 'Hold your Hippogriffs'."
"I think you underestimate her," he grouches, a little put off that his twin disagrees so vehemently.
"And I think one day that girl is going to eat you alive," George tells him flatly. "You masochist." Fred sputters.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Ginny is more than willing to help. He loves their little sister –she looks so sweet, but deep inside she's more their sibling than all the other four put together.
"We're all going to die," she says, sounding mildly enthused. "Adinvenio."
"That's the spirit," Fred says, throwing an extended ear down the stairwell – Kakashi is still in the kitchen.
Ginny's detection charm isn't very sophisticated, but certainly better than his. And it seems, the reason why Kakashi got them the last time is a simple one: "I can't believe he played a muggle prank on us," George grouches and Fred puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be discouraged, brother mine. It was only a friendly reminder that we need to try harder. This time we're prepared." They both look down at Ginny fondly and she flips them the bird.
"Our favorite," George sighs. "Just don't tell Ron," Fred adds. "You know he's sensitive."
"All right you two clowns, who of you can aim a levitation charm through the door? And then we're going to crack the door open by about an inch and throw a cutting curse through to cap the wire."
"An inch?" he hears his brother ask, sounding a little skeptical. "And that works?"
"I don't know – you tell me. I just know what you have to do, not if you can actually do it."
"Well," Fred pipes up, "I know for one that none of us can cast a levitation charm through a door."
"No," George repeats, "We're not asking Hermione." Fred is going to kill him.
"Hermione?" Ginny drawls, eyes bright. "No, no – I think it's a good idea. Let me handle it. We're getting that door open, even if it kills both of you."