Of Wizards, Akuma, and Exorcists

Five: The Boy Who Sees Sadness

Disclaimer: I do not own any D. Gray-Man or Harry Potter characters/settings. They rightfully belong to Mr. Hoshino (D. Gray-Man) and Ms. Rowling (Harry Potter). Also, some conversations between the Harry Potter characters are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and that also does not belong to me!
Ron climbed through the trapdoor into the overstuffed, perfumed room, also known as the Divination classroom in the North Tower of Hogwarts. Some other classmates were braving the smelly heat as well, and one of them was Harry, sitting in a shady corner, slouching in his chair. Ron weaved as fast as he could through the circular tables, overstuffed poufs, and chairs towards his friend and sat down beside him. "Hermione and me have stopped arguing," was the first thing out of his mouth.

"Good," Harry grunted, not yet looking at him.

"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," Ron said, remembering the message he'd received.

"I'm not-"

Ron held up his hands in defense and interrupted, not wanting to get his head bit off. "I'm just passing on the message. But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."

"I never said it-"

"Lenalee! Stop...you don't know who'll see you!"

"Come on, I'm just running fast, that's what they'll think...or maybe one of Fred's new jokes, for all they'll care!"

"...At least we won't be late...hey! Don't jump up! Aaaaahhhhh..."

Harry and Ron looked up from their chilled conversation as the white haired boy and the Chinese girl fell with a crash onto the floor. Other students were either staring or laughing softly. The two detangled themselves and wobbled up to their feet, and looking around, landed their eyes on Harry and Ron, who motioned to the table next to theirs.

"Hello, guys," said a dusty, scrawny Allen.

"I guess you were a bit...shocked," Lenalee mumbled, blushing slightly, and she received a knowing look from Allen. "Oh, be quiet Allen. It was worth it. My legs were cramped."

"What were you-"

"Good day," said the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sweeping out of the shadows and talking in her usual misty, dreamy voice. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely- as, of course, I knew you would."

Ron looked over at Allen and Lenalee; the former was nodding off already, and the latter was smiling at his bobbing head with slight exasperation and amusement.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course, I believe examination passes or failures are of the remostest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so...

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

Ron opened his book and, reading the first sentence, decided it best he waste away the boring class reading, and so he joined Harry in staring at the words and reading without it entering their brains at all. Beside them, Allen and Lenalee had opened their books as well, but Allen gazed at the page for five seconds before his head fell with a thud onto the paper and he started snoring. Lenalee ignored the boy and read the introduction in a flash. Ron saw Professor Trelawney breeze over and quickly return to reading.

"Oh, now, who is this?" Ron heard the professor ask in surprise. "Two new faces, both endearingly adorable."

"Um," Lenalee said, obviously discomfortable, "we're Dumbledore's guests. I'm Lenalee Lee. And Allen Walker."

Allen groaned in his sleep. "No...master...tha'ts...unhuman...aaaaaahhh...no..." he moaned.

"What is the poor boy dreaming about?" Professor Trelawney said worriedly.

"Most likely his master. A nightmare," Lenalee answered. "Recollections of his traumatic past haunting him. I take it it's because of all the stress he's been through..."

"Oh my," Trelawney gasped. The bell rang soon enough, and as everyone began to pack, eager to get out of the room, she assigned them all a month's dream diary for homework.

"Let's get this done and over with," Ron told Harry. "I'm not expecting anything in Umbridge's that I didn't expect in any other classes."

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry and Ron met up with Hermione, who smiled at them and greeted Allen cheerfully, asking him how Divination went (she laughed heartily when he told her how he'd been asleep during the whole class, and Lenalee looked quite amused). Ron, seeing how much she was paying attention to the newcomer, clenched his fists and stomped into the classroom and sat down. The rest followed his lead and they all sat down in the back row. Professor Umbridge, in her fluffy pink cardigan and the black bow in her hair, reminding them all of a fly on a toad, was seated at the teacher's desk. Every student was quiet as they entered.

Umbridge waited until the whole class was seated, and then she said, "Well, good morning!"

Allen leaned his chin on the desk and muttered, "Good afternoon," along with some other awkward voices.

"Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I would like you to reply, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted.

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quilles out, please," Umbridge said sweetly. The students exchanged gloomy looks and they all put away their wands, pulling out their quills, ink bottles, and parchments instead. Umbridge pulled out her own wand, a short one at that, and tapped the board with it. Words appeared to write themselves in neat, curly handwriting:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principals

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather dirupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" the teacher stated, clasping her hands neatly in front of her, facing her class. "The constand changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed the Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She tapped the blackboard again, and the first message was replaced by:

Course aims:

1. Understanding the principals underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize sitiations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

It took the class a couple of minutes to copy the words down, and when they were finished, Umbridge smiled nd said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magic Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Allen, reaching into his bag, murmured along with some in the class, "Yeah..."

"I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge," or "No, Professor Umbridge.' So has, everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basic for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Allen sighed and opened his book. It was a long day. Back home at the Black Order's headquarters, he'd either be enjoying Jerry the cook's company and eating his delicious masterpieces or getting glared at by Kanda or talking to Lenalee- or getting sent on search missions for his evil Master Cross by Komui- not reading some dull book on defense in a classroom he'd never really belong in. It wasn't as if this magical education was going to help his future in any way. Now, it would of course been so much more worth the dullness if something happened that was somehow connected to the Earl.

I wonder how Kanda's coping, Allen thought as he absentmindedly flipped through the book's pages. He saw that Lenalee was doing the same, but Hermione hadn't even opened her book...

Allen's eyes widene in shock, and watched her as she watched Professor Umbridge. After a while, Harry and several more students were all staring fixedly at her, and it became impossible for Umbridge to ignore her any longer. She turned her pudgy face towards Hermione as if she'd just noticed her and asked sweetly, "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

"Not about the chapter, no."

"Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione stated clearly.

Umbridge raised an h eyebrow. "And you name is-?"

Hermione told her.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

Hermione replied bluntly, "Well, I don't. There't nothing written here about using defensive magic spells."

There was a short silence after that, but even if the conversation'd continued, Allen didn't notice. His mind went blank as a deafening sound of machine wheels echoed in his ears, and he felt his left eye move on its own. He covered it with his hand lest anyone who saw the rather gruesome eye be shocked into oblivion, but he knew this feeling:

There was an Akuma nearby.

"Lenalee," he whispered, "do you know any way to get out of the classroom without the teacher noticing?"

The other Exorcist peered at him in question. "Why?" she asked.

Allen looked over at Umbridge, who was still staring at Hermione. "There's an Akuma, Lenalee. It's somewhere...outside!"

The look on her face was of pure disbelief as the information sank in. She looked panicked for a moment, but said, "Where, exactly? Can you see?"

"Two outside in the courtyard, by that strange hut down by the forest," Allen answered. "Timcampy...come out of my pocket." As the golden golem peeked out from Allen's coat pocket, the boy scribbled onto a piece of scrap parchment and shoved it into its face. "Take this to Lavi the moment I throw you out of this room. Lenalee, I want you to stay inside and watch over the classroom; there's none in here, but if the Akuma are so close then we don't know if it might come inside. When it does...yell for Kanda, and then we'll ask Dumbledore what to do with Umbridge when she finds out. They're wizards; I'm sure they know what to do with memories we don't want."

"But how will you get out?" Lenalee hissed.

"Watch," Allen winked and raised his hand. "Professor Umbridge?" he called, sounding innocent and (Lenalee doubted her ears) anxious.

The teacher looked away from her argument with Hermione, and Harry who was seething at her, and turned to Allen, her expression sweet again. "Yes, Mr-?"

"Allen Walker."

"Can I help you somehow, Mr. Walker, or do you have another bizarre statement like Mr. Potter?"

Allen glanced at Harry and back to Umbridge. "No, Professor. I...I have a stomachache! "

Umbridge stared at him with a blank expression. "A stomachache, you say? Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing?"

"No, ma'am," Allen said, wimpering and holding his abdomen, and at the same time handing the parchment scrap to Timcampy, who clamped it between its teeth. "I think it would be gone if I lie down...may I be excused? I will come back and, oww, get my homework assignment as soon as I can, and I'll make sure to get it done." He hoped against hope that his lame excuse will work.

There was a pause, and then: "Very well, Mr. Walker. You may be excused. I've seen you swallow those unimaginable quantities of food at your table, do take care of your body, dear."

"I will, Professor, thank you," Allen said. He packed his book into his bag, plastering a look of discomfort on his face as he did so, and stood up. "I'm sorry for interrupting class..." With that, he pushed Timcampy back into his pocket and shuffled out of the room. Once outside, and walking in the direction of the Gryffindor common room until he was well out of Umbridge's hearing range, he let Timcampy out of his prison. "Okay, Tim. Go find Lavi and give him the note. He's in McGonagall's -that's down the hall- and she knows about us, but try not to get seen, alright?"

The golem nodded and flew away, leaving Allen to stare out the window and at the two shadows that stretched across the lawn in front of the lone hut by the Dark Forest.

"Why did I wish for something like this?" he asked himself. "God, Mana, sometimes I don'tknow if I'm glad you cursed me or not. Being able to see Akuma's souls like this...and having them appear when I wish for an escape from boredom...it's hell."

This is the author-

To those of you who've been waiting, here's some kind of action. I figured I should have made something from D. Gray-Man happen in this story sooner or later. So far all I've written is background information and peaceful first day of school...(sorry...)