A/N: Welcome to Chapter Two of The Deathly Hallows: A Shinobi Element!
I would like to take a moment to thank the following wonderful reviewers:
First, my wonderful best buddy Jayde Malao, who makes a point of badgering me to exploding to make me upload! Since she gets huggles and presents every time I see her, she is already a bit spoiled...But, since she also knows where I live, I will allow her to pick one person she wants to be absolutely POSITIVE survives this whole ginormous story ordeal.
Second, the impossibly kind Sharpie-Addict, who has reviewed, favorited and alerted EVERY SINGLE ONE of my stories! I will reward you, my dear Sharpie-Addict, with a moment in the story you want.
And, last but most definitely NEVER least, Reidluver, author of Naruto and the Goblet of Fire and Naruto and the Deathly Hallows, both of which have inspired me for my stories! She has honestly critiqued this story, and I think she is being far too nice! I spend DAYS, yes DAYS, proofreading these things before I upload(which is why the updates are so slow)! She can ask for two moments in the story, if only to thank her for being an amazing authoress, and to encourage her to publish a mindblowing, three-years-on-the-New-York-Times-best-seller-list #1 novel that will trump all past and future novels, followed closely, hopefully, by my own!
The atmosphere surrounding the Burrow was jubilant, every person in high spirits. The setting up of Harry's birthday dinner was only interrupted twice. Once, when Mrs. Weasley brought out the huge, beach-ball-sized Snitch cake, and once, when the shinobi asked everyone to stop.
"I'd like to say something, please!"
That was Akumu, who had decided to jump onto Kakashi's shoulders. He was looking as put-upon as he could with a mask on, and was shifting his shoulders trying to stop Akumu's heels from digging into his body.
Everyone halted mid-move and looked at Akumu.
"Since my partner and I were not aware of Potter-sama's birthday, we would like to make up for it with a small gift."
Harry looked at her, interested. She clambered down from Kakashi's shoulders, making sure to step on his face as she did so. A white substance grew out from under her feet, forming into a blob.
"What's your favorite animal, Harry?"
Harry almost said "Lion", but then he thought of Sirius. His happy dog grin in his animal form, the shaggy, smelly black fur, his intelligent eyes.
"A dog. A big, shaggy black dog."
Akumu nodded, and the white blob formed into a clear dog shape. Harry, who was very close to her, saw the tiny details of fur and eyes, mouth and paws. It looked like Snuffles dipped in bleach. The dog's paws separated from the rest of the white substance, which disappeared, and Akumu picked the palm-sized figure up. She threw it high into the air, and as everyone gasped, Kakashi leapt into action.
Weaving handsigns so fast they were impossible to see, Kakashi cried, "Fire Style: Pheonix Flower Jutsu!"
Four small, fast-moving fireballs appeared one after the other a short distance away from Kakashi's mouth, each one hitting the still airborne figurine. It thudded to the ground, and Harry walked toward it. The dog shape was now charcoal black, just like Snuffles' fur had been. Harry picked it up gingerly, expecting it to be hot. Instead, it was cold and shone like it was painted, not burned.
Harry looked at the ninja, an unexplainable emotion welling up in him. "Thank you. It's absolutely perfect."
Akumu opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but stopped dead. She silently held up a hand in a gesture for silence.
A moment of tense quiet was broken by the arrival of a silver weasel. It materialized in front of Mrs. Weasley, and spoke in a mans' voice.
"Minister of Magic coming with me."
The weasel disappeared. Lupin and Tonks looked at Harry apologetically, and Lupin said hastily, "I'm sorry, Harry, but we shouldn't be here. We'll explain another time!" With that, Lupin grabbed Tonks' hand and they hopped over the fence, disappearing just outside the border. Akumu and Kakashi, who had been in front of them all moments earlier, had disappeared in the seconds it took for Lupin and Tonks to leave.
"Scrimgeour? Here?" Harry was confused.
As the wizards and Hagrid concentrated on the people who had appeared outside the gate, the shinobi were hidden in a tree. They had hoods pulled over their easily visible, shining hair, and conversed via sign language.
Akumu: Hey, genius, what the heck is a Minister of Magic?
Kakashi: Must be the leader of their government, like a daimyo or one of the Gokage. Something about their reaction tells me this person appearing probably isn't a good thing. Let's watch and make sure they stay safe. Do you have any Kakuremi no Jutsu cloth with you?
Akumu: In my pack.
The two silently crept into the house, hiding themselves against the wall in the sitting room, easily able to see if anyone walked near. Almost immediately, someone did.
Or rather, four someones. Akumu and Kakashi silently watched Harry, Ron and Hermione walk into the room, followed by a tall older man who limped slightly. He looked scraggy and grim, his grizzled mane of hair quivering with every lurching step he took. Harry lit the lamps of the room with his wand, a feat that still surprised the shinobi as much as it disgusted them. For what ninja would rely on only a prettily carved stick alone? And still, how did such a thing work?
The strange man sat in a sagging, fraying old armchair, leaving the young wizards to squeeze together onto the sofa. The man spoke in a gravelly voice the second their bodies touched the fabric.
"I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you two"-he pointed at Harry and Hermione-"can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."
Akumu was about to leap out of hiding in protest against the Minister, but Harry beat her to it. "We're not going anywhere," he said as Hermione nodded vigorously. "You can speak to us together, or not at all."
Scrimgeour, for that's who it was, gave Harry a cold, appraising look. Kakashi could tell that he was debating whether or not it was worth opening hostilities so soon.
"Very well then, together," he said, shrugging. He cleared his throat. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."
The teenage wizards looked at each other, confusion clear on their faces.
"A surprise, apparently! You were not aware that Dumbledore had left you anything?"
"A-all of us?" asked Ron. "Me and Hermione too?"
"Yes, all of-"
But Harry interrupted.
"Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"
"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, before the Minister could say a word. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!" and though she glared angrily at the man, her voice shook slightly, betraying her true apprehension.
"I had every right," Scrimgeour said dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will-"
"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts," said Hermione, "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"
"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?"
"No, I'm not," retorted Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"
Ron laughed. The Minister's eyes flickered toward him and away again as Harry spoke.
"So why have you decided to let us have our things now? Can't think of a pretext to keep them?"
"No, it'll be because the thirty-one days are up," said Hermione at once. "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove that they're dangerous. Right?"
"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" asked the Minister, ignoring Hermione. Ron, true to form, looked startled.
"Me? No-uh, that is, not really...it was always Harry who..."
He trailed off and glanced to Hermione, who was giving him an ice-coated stop-talking-this-instant sort of look, but the damage was already done. The Minister looked as if he had heard exactly what he had expected and wanted to hear. He swooped like a bird of prey on Ron's answer.
"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions-his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects-were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"
"I...dunno," said Ron. It was clear to the shinobi that he was making a complete fool of himself. "I...when I say we weren't close...I mean, I think he liked me..."
"You're being modest, Ron," said Hermione. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."
However, Scrimgeour appeared no longer to be listening. He put one hand inside his cloak and drew out a large drawstring pouch, almost like a shuriken bag. From it, he removed a scroll which he unrolled and read aloud. "Ahem...The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...Let's see here...ah."
He shook the parchment slightly. "To Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it."
He took a small object from the bag that looked something like a silver cigarrette lighter, but Harry knew that it had the power to suck the light from an area or restore it with a simple click. The Minister leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Ron, who took it, turning it over in his fingers and looking stunned.
"That is a valuable object," said the watching Minister. "It may even be unique. Certainly it's of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"
Rom just shook his head, seemingly confused.
"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," he continued. "But the only ones we know of that he remembered are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"
"Put out lights, I s'pose," mumbled Ron. "What else could I do with it?"
Evidently the Minister had no suggestions. He squinted at Ron for a moment, then turned back to Dumbledore's will.
"To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive."
Scrimgeour now removed from the bag a small book that looked, to the ninja, as old as Lady Tsunade's ancient medical text nicknamed "The Kitchen Sink" by Naruto. Its binding was stained and peeling in places, and the pages were yellowed. Hermione took it from the Minister without a word. As she held it in her lap and gazed at it, a tear splashed onto the embossed title. Harry saw that it was in runes, which he had never learned to read.
"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?" The Minister was determined to get answers.
"He...he knew I liked books," Hermione said thickly, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.
"But why this particular book?"
"I don't know, sir. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."
"Did you ever discuss codes or any other means of passing secret messages with Dumbledore?"
"No, I didn't," Hermione snapped as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "And if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book after thirty-one days, I doubt I will."
She suppressed a sob, and Ron carefully extricated his arm to place it around her shoulders. Scrimgeour turned back to the will.
"This is a very interesting section...to Mr. Harry James Potter, I give, first, the request that he keep safe the following item until which time he can return it to its proper owner."
Scrimgeour looked at Harry. "Why he would request this of you, I do not know, however...hm...To the followers of Hashirama Senju," though no one noticed it, both hidden shinobi jumped in surprise, "I leave an item given by your first lord many years ago into my keeping, and wish for it to be presented only to a woman of Konoha. In the hope that you will guard this spirit of the Leaf until such time as it can be taken to its home, I return to you the Houka-Ha Kouhi. Learn its secrets well, for the betterment of all the worlds."
"I do not know what that means, but the item in question is quite harmless, and Hashirama Senju, whomever he may be, is not a registered wizard in any records, so I see no reason not to present it to you."
From the pouch, the Minister withdrew a small green sphere. Even Akumu, who waited with bated breath to see an item that had belonged to the great First Hokage, felt a little disappointed.
"It appears to be naught more than a marble, though its material is harder than diamond," said Scrimgeour as it dropped into Harry's palm. "Moving on...the bequest left to you, Mr. Potter...Second, to Mr. Potter once more, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill."
As the Minister removed the tiny, walnut-sized golden ball, the pair of silver wings it possessed fluttered feebly, and Harry could not help feel an enormous sense of anticlimax.
"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"
"I don't know," Harry said dejectedly. "To remind me what you can get if you...persevere or...something."
"Then you think this a mere symbolic keepsake?"
"I guess so," said Harry. "What else could it be?"
"I'm asking the questions," said Scrimgeour, shifting closer to the sofa. Dusk was falling in full outside; the marquee that dominated the yard towered a ghostly white above the hedges.
"I noticed that you birthday cake is shaped like a Snitch," Scrimgeour said to Harry. "Why is that?"
Hermione snorted derisively from her place on the sofa. "Oh, It can't be a reference to the fact that Harry's a great Seeker, that's too obvious! There must be a message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!"
"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing," said the Minister, "But a Snitch would be a wonderful hiding place for a small object, would it not? You know why, I'm sure."
Hidden behind the Kakuremi no Jutsu cloth, Akumu and Kakashi exchanged confused looks. They watched as Harry shrugged, convinced the weren't going to learn anything. Luckily for Akumu's insatiable curiosity, Hermione spoke, true to her habit of answering anything asked.
"Because Snitches have flesh memories."
"What?" chorused Harry and Ron, both of whom considered Hermione's Quidditch knowledge negligible.
"Correct" said the Minister. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by its maker, who always wears gloves. It carries and enchantment which can be used to identify the first to lay hands upon it, in case of disputed capture. This Snitch-" he held up the tiny golden ball "-will remember your touch, Potter. I think that Dumbledore-who whatever his faults, had prodigious magical skill-may have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open for none aside from yourself."
Harry's heart was thudding irrationally, and he was sure the minister could hear it. Scrimgeour was right. How could he avoid taking it with his bare hand in front of the Minister?
"You say nothing," said Scrimgeour. "Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?
"No," said Harry, still wondering how to take the Snitch without actually touching it. He wished he really knew Legilimency, that he could use it. He could hear Hermione's brain whirring beside him.
"Take it,"hissed Scrimgeour.
Harry met the Minister's yellow eyes, and knew he had no option but to comply. He stretched out his palm, and as the still-struggling Snitch fell into his hand, its delicate silver wings fluttered once and lay still, folding around the tiny, walnut-sized golden body.
Harry waited a beat. "Well, that was dramatic," he said coolly. Both Ron and Hermione laughed.
"That's all, then, is it?" asked Hermione, making to remove herself from the sofa.
"Not quite," said Scrimgeour sourly. He now looked bad-tempered. "Dumbledore left you a third bequest, Potter."
"What is it?" asked Harry, his excitement rekindling.
Scrimgeour didn't even bother to read from the will this time.
"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," he said.
Hermione and Ron both stiffened. Harry looked around for a sign of the ruby hilt, but the sword was nowhere in sight. In any case, the pouch Scrimgeour held looked much too small to contain it.
"Where is it?" asked Harry warily.
Scrimgeour frowned slightly. "Unfortunately, that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. It is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs-"
"It belongs to Harry!" Hermione broke in. "It came to him, he pulled it out of the Sorting Hat-"
The poor shinobi were completely confused. Who was Godrick Griffin-door? What was so special about his sword? And what on the face of the Earth was a Sorting Hat? They continued watching, growing tenser by the minute.
"According to reliable historical sources," said the Minister, "the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided."
Akumu watched the proceedings with an eagle's eye, noting the minute changes in body language and tone. She could tell, even better than Kakashi, that something bad was about to happen. She knew that was corny, too. Still, Akumu was a person who looked underneath the underneath, as it were. The highly specialized and carefully skill-sorted shinobi career had very few people in it who had reached the caliber of Kakashi, and even fewer with Akumu's skills. Her rare understanding of human and animal biology would have made her a wonderful medic, but her temper lent her talents to assault. And yet Kakashi could beat her in a fight. Akumu was the ultimate in contradictions.
As she scanned Scrimgeour's every move, watching each miniscule twitch of Harry's muscles, she thought, in the back of her mind, that it was a good thing that she was here to monitor. Kakashi was an elite, to be sure, but she was the one shinobi in the village who had the most understanding of the human mind. Strange, yet...useful. Her experiences early in her life led her to be easily able to deduct any person's thinking, or-as in the case of Kakashi's ninken-any thing's. Some would liken it to reading minds, but Akumu, for all her prowess and skill, was no psychic.
The discussions were becoming more heated by the minute, but Akumu finally snapped when she saw Harry's word-shaped scar.
"I don't like your methods, Minister. Remember?" Harry said coldly, holding up his clenched fist.
I must not tell lies.
The words were scarred into the back of Harry's hand, in what was probably his own writing. The Minister's face grew red.
"You go too far!" he shouted, his wand appearing out of his sleeve. He angrily jabbed it into Harry's chest, only to be pulled away with enough force to slam him into the wall. He would have fought back, had Kakashi not been the one who grabbed him, yanking Scrimgeour away from Harry. Akumu was standing in front of the young wizards, one long-fingered, seemingly delicate hand leveled at Scrimgeour's head. The teens could not see what it was about her hand that scared Scrimgeour, but his face had turned a pasty white and his breathing accelerated. He swallowed twice, then spoke.
"Who are you people? How dare you attack-"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but shut up," Akumu said, frowning. "We have better things to do than listen to the ramblings of career politicians."
Scrimgeour closed his mouth. Still keeping one hand extended in front of her, Akumu moved her other hand, palm open, towards Harry.
" The jewel, Mr. Potter."
Jewel? Harry took a moment to process the request. Oh, the marble. He dropped the shimmering green ball into Akumu's hand, and she closed her palm around it, bringing that hand in front of her face. She held the glistening orb in the very tips of her fingers, and her hand angled left just enough to send shards of light through the sphere.
"I thank you, Minister, for returning this artifact to my comrade and I." She dropped it nonchalantly into the pocket of her vest. "However, I believe that even among you wizards, as with civilians, it is illegal to assault without provocation. Were this my home, and Mr. Potter a citizen, my partner would be doing far more than holding your arms behind your back."
"I demand to be told who you people are!"
Right then, everyone from outside burst in, Mr Weasley exclaiming "Is everything all right? We thought we heard-"
They all took in the strange tableau. "Raised...voices..."
Kakashi nodded to Mr. Weasley. "A minor misunderstanding, Arthur. However, I will continue to restrain Minister Scrimgeour in the interest of Harry's safety."
Attention shifted back to Scrimgeour and Akumu. Akumu smirked slightly. "If you are not intelligent enough to figure that out on your own, Minister, then perhaps your career choice is not the best."
Ron resisted an extremely strong urge to say "Owned."
Akumu continued her verbal assault. "In the interest of honesty, my name is Akumu and my partner is Kakashi. We are guardians of Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger. Guardians, in this sense, translates to protectors. Actions of an offensive nature towards our charges will not be tolerated. Agreed, Kakashi?"
"With no exceptions. Minister Scrimgeour, you must understand that your restraint is part of our operating policy, and no personal harm is meant."
Both shinobi spoke in a disconcerting, but perfect, monotone. Hermione guessed, correctly, that the entire purpose was to disarm and unsettle the Minister. She was unsettled, and she wasn't on the receiving end of the extraordinarily polite tirade. Kakashi had immense expressional freedom provided him by the mask, but just imagining Akumu's no doubt flawlessly emotionless face was disturbing.
Akumu dropped her hand slowly, but Scrimgeour's face did not regain its color. He began to open and close his mouth, and bore a strong resemblance to a dying fish. Kakashi slowly released the Minister's arms and backed away. The Minister finally seemed to realize his mouth was open, hastily shut it, and turned to leave. Before he did so, however, he spoke to Harry once more.
"I...regret your attitude, Mr. Potter."
He was gone. Akumu looked back at the teen wizards.
"That could certainly have gone better."
Kakashi gave an eye-crinkle of a smile. "Diplomacy probably isn't high on the list of school courses."
Mr. Weasley walked up. "Well, thank goodness you shinobi were here. That could have gotten ugly."
"Yes, yes, I agree," said Mrs. Weasley. "But I think we should probably start dinner now, Harry, everyone's awfully hungry..."
"Yeah...of course, Mrs. Weasley."
After a hasty meal, a slightly rushed chorus of "Happy Birthday" which the ninja hummed along to, and much gulping of cake, the party broke up prematurely. The ninja shot down Mrs. Weasley's attempts to convince them to sleep in the house, and they went to join Hagrid in setting up a tent in a nearby field. Harry, Ron and Hermione met in the room shared by the boys.
"Y'know, I wonder what that marble thing was," said Ron as Harry carefully placed the dog statue from the shinobi into the mokeskin pouch from Hagrid. "It didn't look like it had a bunch of secrets or anything, but I dunno. Have you ever heard of it, Hermione?"
Hermione frowned. "Well, I only know basic Japanese, but I know that Houka-Ha Kouhi translates to something like Fire-Leaf Queen. But no, I've never heard of something like that. It's really confusing...how could Dumbledore have gotten it from Hashirama Senju?"
"Simple," Akumu appeared in a puff of smoke. The wizards jumped. "Oops. Sory, didn't mean to scare you. But Kakashi and I figured out by asking Hagrid that Dumbledore was born more than a hundred years ago, and he and Shodai-sorry, the first Hokage-were probably about the same age."
Hermione nodded. "Of course! Dumbedore as already an adult in 1945, when he defeated Grindelwald! he was also going on fifty-55 years ago! That must be how he got it!"
Then she looked at Akumu. "Do you know what it does?"
Akumu removed the ball from her pocket, held it up and shook her head. "Unfortunately, though I know the name, the scrolls that contained info on how it worked and what it was for were destroyed in a civil war my home went through about four years ago. The only people who could read them were the Hokage, Tsunade, and the elders Homura and Koharu. Homura and Koharu were assassinated, and Lady Tsunade never actually read them as she was never told of their existence. We only found them after fire gutted the library. The only bits that survived were the first and last words, The Houka-Ha Kouhi is and only in times of direst need. The only other things we could dig up were a half-destroyed letter that said "Lost during the time of Shodai" and a notice in the Shodai's own hand that read "The Houka-Ha Kouhi cannot be used by mere men, remember to send overview to D." In hindsight, it seems that Shodai and Dumbledore knew how to communicate with each other, and the mysterious "D" was actually Dumbledore."
Hermione, Harry and Ron were all surprised. Harry, listening to Akumu, then realized something.
"Hey, this is the Snitch I caught in my first Quidditch match, right?"
Hermione and Ron looked at him like he was crazy. He merely held up the Snitch. "Don't you remember? It's the one-"
"That you nearly swallowed!" said Hermione.
"Exactly!" said Harry, and he pressed his mouth to the Snitch, kissing it, nearly swallowing the cold metal ball. Nothing happened, however, and he took it out of his mouth, disappointed, until Akumu exclaimed, "There's writing on it! Look!"
And in fact, there was. Hermione read the thin, loopy writing out loud.
"I Open at the Close."
The writing disappeared. They all stared at the Snitch. They were all confused, but after twenty minutes of discussion, no one, not even Akumu, could make heads or tails of the cryptic message. Akumu then insisted they all go to bed, leaving herself with the parting words of "Everything has a purpose. The answer will become clear when it needs to, guys. Go to sleep."
The wizards, being asleep, would never have guessed at the conversation that took place inside the shinobi tent. Akumu overviewed the previous conversation with Kakashi, and he couldn't figure out the message either.
"Akumu, I think there's going to be trouble tomorrow."
"Come off it, Kakashi. It's a wedding."
"Regardless, we should each have our supplies with us just in case."
"I know, I know."
Kakashi smiled at Akumu. "Relax. It's merely a precaution."
"If I were you, I would leave off the mask and make a less conspicuous henge."
"I plan on it. Good night."
"Night, baka."
"GAKI!"
"I said good night."
And the shinobi fell into sleep.
With one eye open, of course. You can't really expect a shinobi to fall completely asleep on the job. Thanks to Reiduver, again, for all her inspiration. Sorry this chapter took so long, but you know how it is. School, work. Life in general. See ya next chapter: The Separation and the Separated.