Of Wizards, Akuma, and Exorcists

Eleven: The New Gryffindor Keeper

Disclaimers: 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!
"You knew about Harry's detention?" Lenalee exclaimed at breakfast on Friday morning.

Allen cowered under her murderous glare and felt Timcampy hide in his hood. "I did know, Lenalee," he said, holding up his hands in defense, "but Harry told me he didn't want anyone else to know, so I couldn't say anything."

"But you knew," Lenalee said flatly, lowering her voice as people were staring at them.

"Since Wednesday morning," Allen said back. "I made him pain killing potion on Wednesday and Thursday."

The Exorcists ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Allen saw Harry enter the Great Hall at one point, glance at the staff table, and sit down heavily beside him.

Sitting in class that day, Allen pondered why the week had felt so long. Sure, the past couple days he'd stayed up late and woken up early helping Harry and Ron with their homework, and that meeting with Dumbledore and Komui hadn't brought the best of news, and his own homework never helped, either. During the day, Allen snuck another vial of potion into Harry's hand, and then, when Harry went off to detention for hopefully the last time, Lenalee dragged him off to the Quidditch field for the Keeper tryouts. Ron was trying out for the position, and Lenalee needed assistance in keeping the Slytherins, who were bound to be there, from ruining everything for Ron.

The Quidditch field was like the Roman colloseum, Allen thought. Tiny dots gathered on the grass below, and a group of Slytherins were sitting in the stands jeering. Lenalee and he picked a seat several rows away from them, and Allen pulled out his wand, as did Lenalee, who for some reason was quite good at casting curses (Allen got the feeling he had Lavi, Fred, and George to blame for that.)

Tryouts began after a few minutes, and the Slytherins seemed tense with the anticipation for a chance to start booing at the Gryffindors. Lenalee pointed out a couple of students as good flyers, Vicky Frobisher and Geofrey Hooper, but said she certainly wouldn't want them on the team.

"That Hooper whines a lot in the common room- look, he's doing it now- and Vicky, I heard, is in a lot of clubs, and I also heard she wouldn't join the Quidditch team if practice clashes with Charms club.."

Sooner or later, it was Ron's turn, and Draco Malfoy, at the center of the Slytherin group, started to call him nasty names. Allen, getting annoyed immediately, shot red sparks at the girl Malfoy was flirting with and made her squawk. Lenalee sent a curse in Malfoy's direction, making mushrooms sprout atop his head. The Slytherins turned around and glared threateningly at them, but Malfoy must have remembered his poker game with Allen, for his pale face flushed pink and he turned away. The Slytherins stayed silent for the rest of tryouts. Unfortunately though, Ron's turn had already gone by while the Exorcists were getting rid of the nuissance.

"Oh man," Allen groaned. "We missed it."

"Let's hope he makes it," Lenalee said, looking just as disappointed. She stood up and said, "Come on, we'll meet Ron down outside on the grass.

It was about twenty minutes later. Several Gryffindors came out either crying in frustration, seething, or seeming pleased. Allen felt his heart thudding in anticipation, as if he was the one who'd tried out for Keeper. Judging from the way Lenalee grasped her hand tightly in a prayer against her chest, so did she. Ron still hadn't come out yet. It was getting cold, darker, and Allen couldn't wait until the suspicion ended. He was just about to stand up and march into the team dressing room when a tall red haired boy, followed by two cheering redheads, dashed out of the room and ran towards them.

It was Ron, and he was smiling. Allen felt his heart beat faster, and Lenalee appeared beside him.

"I made it!" Ron cheered, coming to a halt in front of them. His freckled face glowed. "I can't believe it! I'm the new Gryffindor Keeper!"

Lenalee gasped, and her voice cracked. "Oh my, Ron, you did it! I'm so happy for you!" she said, and sounded as if she was going to cry.

"Good job, Ron," Allen said, patting the boy's head, or forehead, since he couldn't reach it easily. Instead, it was Timcampy who perched atop Ron's head and congratulated him silently.

"Thanks, guys," Ron sniffed. "Man, I can't wait to tell Harry!"

Fred and George both put their arms around their little brother's neck. "How's this, mate, we throw a big party for you?" one twin asked. "Sneak some food from the kitchen, get some of our joke explosives go off," the other suggested.

"You'd do that?" Ron said. He seemed to happy to remember much of his prefect duties and about not setting off explosives.

"Sure thing," Allen said before the twins could say it was a joke. "We'll throw one big party for you, and Harry could be surprised."

It was nearly nine o'clock. Lavi and Allen stood, side by side, watching as Lenalee floated overhead, stringing glittering red ribbon across the ceiling. The Gryffindor common room was their masterpiece, and the other Gryffindors, too, smiled proudly at the magnificently decorated room.

As promised, Fred and George brought armloads of food from the kitchen, and several fifth years had hung a banner on the wall that said in large fancy letters: Congratulations Ron! New Gryffindor Keeper! Ron swore it reminded him of how Mrs. Weasley had celebrated his and Hermione's becoming prefects. Allen, with help from Lavi, was draping bright red and gold tableclothes on the largest tables in the common room, allowing Hermione to study at on of the smaller ones. Timcampy flew around happily, and one second year exclaimed that he was a perfect Snitch-alike and that he'd make the perfect decoration for Ron's party. Allen, amused, laughed with Lavi at the exclamation.

"Alright," Lavi called out to the room, "when Harry comes back, that's when we'll start partying. Until then, you just mingle, but when youhear the trapdoor open and Harry walks in," he paused," you cheer. Loud."

Just as soon as those words were out of the Exorcist's mouth, a deafening roaring and cheering erupted throughout the room. Ron's red head bobbed above some of the other Gryffindors, and Allen, sitting on the armrest of the chair Hermione sat in. The girl was nodding in and out of sleep. From across the room, Allen heard him relaying the news to the newcomer, probably Harry.

Allen wondered how deep Harry's cuts could've gotten by tonight. The last time he saw it, which was this morning, they'd been scabbing, and Harry had kept his right hand in his pocket for the most part of the day. I hope the potion's helping, Allen thought.

Hermione yawned and sank into the armchair, holding her drink in her hands. Her eyes were closed, and she looked ready to just go off into dreamland. Harry arrived just in time for her to fall asleep and her butterbeer to spill on her lap. "Allen- hi."

Allen smiled. "Happy?" he asked, regarding Ron.

Harry nodded enthusiastically and held up a scabbed, red hand. The words were etched into his skin deep. "Thanks for the potion. I don't want Umbridge to return me to her detentions, so I don't want a healing potion, but I think I'd like those painkillers sometimes. It might start hurting..."he said and sat down in the armchair beside Hermione, who jumped awake, splashing some more butterbeer on her robes.

"Oh, Harry it's you..." she said tiredly, wiping away the spilled drink carelessly. "Good about Ron, isn't it? I'm just so-so-so tired. I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!" She beamed, and Allen fidgeted as he saw Harry look around. He wished Hermione wouldn't say that he'd helped in making those woolly hats...

Harry looked sitracted. "Great," he said. He suddenly gripped the arm of his chair and leaned over Allen's knees toward Hermione, making the Exorcist yelp and almost fall. "Sorry Allen. Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm..."

Allen and Hermione listened intently as Harry explained to them about feeling the searing pain in his cursed scar and the sinking feeling in his stomach. Hermione spoke slowly when Harry finished. "You're worried that You-Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?" Quirrell was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in Harry's first year, Allen remembered reading about him in his mission's files.

Harry nodded. "Well, it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Hermione sounded uncertain. "But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he's properly alive now, isnt he, he's got his own body, he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose..." She glanced at Allen, and Allen leaned forward, balancing with his hands between his legs gripping the chair armrest tightly. He looked back at her. "But last year," Hermione continued, "your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anythingto do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just a coincidence it happened while you were with her?"

"She's evil," Harry spat out flatly. "Twisted."

Hermione looked as if she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "She's horrible, yes, but...Harry, i think you ought to tell Dumbledore," she said.

Harry hesitated for a moment and replied, I'm not bothering him with this. Like you said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer- it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all-"

"Harry," Hermione said hurriedly, "I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this-"

"Yeah," Harry snarled, "that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?"

"Don't say that, it's not true!"

Allen agreed with Hermione; Allen had made small talk with Dumbledore several time during the week, other than the meetings, and there was never a conversation where Harry and Dumbledore's concern for him hadn't been mentioned.

"I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks-"

"Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!" Hermione snapped. "Don't you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We can't just guarantee owls aren't being intercepted anymore!"

Standing up in a flash, Harry brushed off Hermione's alarm irritably. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?"

"Oh, no, if you're going that means I can go without being bored without being rude too, I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow," Hermione said, sounding relieved. "Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun, I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts od things now."

Harry looked wearily from Hermione's gleeful face to Allens tired and awkward one, and Allen grimaced and shrugged. "Er...no, I don't think I will, thanks," Harry said. He looked at Hermione for a moment and shook his head. "Er- not tomorrow. I've got loads of homework to do..."

Harry escaped quickly to the boys' dormitory before Hermione could protest, and Allen slid off the chair. "You should get some sleep too, Hermione," he said, "I'm going to talk to Harry a bit, and then we'll both go to sleep. And tell Ron that, just because he's Keeper, he should take responsibility as a prefect and go to bed before midnight."

Hermione yawned. "Right," she said. "Good night, Allen."

Allen smiled and trotted off towards the dormitory, ducking under Fred and George's arms as they danced past, and Lavi as he skipped after the twins. Inside the dormitory, Harry was changing into his pajamas swiftly, and didn't notice as he walked in. It was only until Allen was lying on his bed and was clicking his tongue that the boy looked up. "Oh, Allen-hi."

"Was wondering when you'd notice," Allen said, pulling off his coat and untying the red bowtie from around his neck. "So, what's got you so upset about Dumbledore?"

Harry stopped in the middle of buttoning up his shirt and looked at him. "Why do you want to know?" he asked heatedly.

Allen shrugged, reaching for his trunk and opening it, searching for something comfortable to wear other than his normal attire. "It's been bothering you, obviously. Do you feel as if Dumbledore's neglecting you?"

The black haired boy fell silent and walked over to Allen's bed, sat down. He stared at his feet for a while, one of which was still socked, and said quietly, "He hasn't talked to me since the end of last term. He knows that Voldemort's back, can't he...can't he at least tell me some of the stuff they've been talking about in their meetings for the Order? I'm involved too. Voldemort killed my parents."

Allen raised his eyebrows as he tugged a tangled set of Johnny Gill's pajamas. (Johnny was a member of the Black Order headquarter's science department, and a good friend.) Allen sat up and said, "I've talked to Dumbledore several times this week."

Harry looked surprised. "You have?"

"I sometimes sneak out at midnight to look at the sky," Allen confessed, looking away in embarrassment. He jumped off the bed and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "I don't why, but looking at the sky...it reminds me of the nights where Mana and I had to camp out. And it- it proves to be a good way to look out for Akuma, and, um..."

"Allen, I didn't ask why you go out to see the sky," Harry cut in. "I was wondering how you've talked to Dumbledore."

Allen flushed. "He's there sometimes," he answered, "watching the moon, and he talks to me about things. How my mission's coming along...how am I doing in classes..how he misses Hagrid..the Orders and some other things...and about you, Harry. He worries about you. He asks me how you're doing, if Umbridge is giving you a hard time, if we're friends...he talks about you all the time."

He felt Harry's gaze burning into the back of his head as he shrugged off his shirt and pulled on his borrowed pajamas. The boy, sounding disbelieving, asked, "Then why won't he come talk to me directly?"

"He's the headmaster, Harry," Allen said, deciding that putting on the pajama pants right now would be too awkward. Instead, he slumped back down on his bed beside Harry and closed his eyes. "I don't think he can allow himself to watch over one single student all the time, at least, not by himself. He's got a whole school to protect from disaster."

"But still-"

"It's never written in our files, Harry," Allen interrupted, "but I think, part of the reason Dumbledore called me and the others from our world is because he wanted a way to guard you. He wanted a way to protect the school and you in particular without causing trouble with the government and school for having favorites. And by the way he reacts whenI talk about you, he really cares about you...just like Mana did me."

Allen heard Harry shift, and saw him gaping at him. "He cursed you," Harry said flatly.

"Because I was his son," Allen retorted, "and he was my father. He cursed me because he wanted me to keep walking, live up to my name as a Walker, and as God's hands in the man's world. I'm an Exorcist, I have a piece of God's crystal inside my body, and I survived being killed by the Mana Akuma to fulfill my duty as one."

"It's strange. I understand what you're saying, what you mean," Harry said, "but I don't get it anyways. If it was me, I'd have chickened."

"Don't say that," Allen laughed, grabbing his pillow. "Now let's have a pillow fight to congratulate your escape from Umbridge, shall we?" With that, he hit Harry as hard as he could with the fluffy cushion.

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed. "Hey, stop it Allen! Come on, I just want to get to sleep! Ow- now you're going to get it..."

Allen smiled as Harry advanced with Neville's pillow in hand. Finally he smiles at last, he thought, and blocked a hit. They rolled around on the floor, dodging and attacking, jumped over mattresses, sometimes accidentally knocking over a stack of textbooks or Fred and George's file of orders. They were surprised that nobody walked in on them; they were being loud as they laughed and yelled, but they guessed that the party must be louder.

"Ow!" Harry yelled as a pillow Allen threw hit him in the face. "That hurt!" he hurled it towards Allen, who dodged.

He tripped over a trunk and collapsed on a pile of cushions on the ground. He grunted and groaned, then went silent, his body limp. Harry rushed over, feeling panic rise in his stomach. Maybe Allen was hurt badly? What would he do?

"Allen! Allen, are you alright?" he demanded as he fell on his knees beside Allen on the cushions.

The white haired boy groaned again and rubbed his head. He wiped his eyes with his other hand and muttered, "That hurt so bad, it wasn't funny," and chuckled. "Well, now it is...I'm so clumsy." He soon fell into a louder, stronger laugh.

"Me too, I'm a dunce too," Harry said, joining in on the laughter. Relief hit him, and he plopped down on his back beside Allen. "This is comfortable," he commented, and Allen nodded in agreement. They both yawned at the same time.

"So, feeling better now?" Allen asked.

"Sure, you tricked me into it," Harry replied. "Is that what you do to Akuma? Trick them into making them feel better so that they'd peacefully go to heaven?"

"They resist until the very end," Allen answered. "But no soul wants to be trapped forever. When they first become Akuma...they're so angered that they weep."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I made you remember something painful, didn't I?"

"No, it's alright."

"But the Millenium Earl is a disgusting creep. What he does is so wicked..."

"Brokers are everywhere among us," Allen said. "Humans who sell souls to the Earl."

"Even in Hogwarts?"

"I don't know, but I once knew this doctor..." Allen's voice faded away, and his breathing became even. Harry realized he'd fallen asleep, and decided he should as well, for fatigue was catching up to him quickly. He tried getting up, but by then his body was so tired...

"G'night, Allen."