Ichigo became aware of two men arguing. Well, it was really one man shouting at the other, but he could feel from the spiritual pressure that they were both extremely pissed at the other. His amber eyes blinked open and saw a white ceiling covered in early morning light. He was lying down on a white hospital bed and covered with a thin blanket. Turning his head, he noticed white curtains separating him from the rest of the place, wherever it was.

Where am I?

He wondered briefly before getting up. When he did, he realized he was wearing only the bottom half of his uniform. His entire torso was covered in bandages, as well as some parts of his arms. And when he lifted a hand to his face, he felt yet another bandage around his forehead.

He checked his spiritual pressure, and found that it was dangerously low. Another month in the tank might have done permanent damage. Of course, Shiro helped by supplying his energy too, but still, it was ridiculous how weak he was right now.

Yo, King. You finally got up, said Shiro, his inner Hollow.

Shiro, where am I?

Hell if I know, Jii-san said he'll take us to some school.

School?

Like I said, hell if I know.

Where's Zangetsu?

I'm here, don't worry.

At this Ichigo relaxed. Finally, after months of separation, his zanpakto was with him again. He had missed that part of his soul, and was relieved, no, overjoyed to have him back. He gave a mental grin.

Good to have you back, Old man Zangetsu. How bad is it in the city?

…

Shiro? How's the city?

It's completely trashed, broken glass and rubble. And we're swimming in the damned Pacific Ocean in here.

Those bastards. I'm gonna kill them.

Let me come out and I'll join ya.

Hell yah you'll join me in pummeling their asses.

Ichigo, they're coming.

I know. I'll be right back.

Let me out soon, cuz one of them is the fat man. I'll rip up that bowler hat and shove it down his throat.

Ichigo glanced up at the shadows cast on the curtains. He felt their reiatsu, and knew that one was the fat man with the green bowler, and the other was the Jii-san who was there the day before. So when the curtains were drawn back, he wasn't surprised to see them.

They however, seemed to be surprised to see him awake. Mentally, he smirked when the fat one jumped back in shock, while on the outside he kept scowling. The other man with blue eyes seemed to know what he was feeling and let out a small smile. Ichigo looked at the taller and much leaner figure. The man pulled out a stick, he learned it was called a wand from his time in the tank, and waved it in the air. Suddenly, out of thin air, crashed down two comfortable chairs and Dumbledore took a seat in one of them, while the fat man took a reluctant seat in the other.

He had a long silver beard (did all strong old guys make it a thing to have long beards?) and shocking blue eyes. Though he was obviously ancient, his eyes were far from dull. Rather, they were as alive as a kid's, twinkling like someone poured glitter glue into his eyes. His strange robes were midnight blue and on his head was a matching wizard hat. Since he saved him, Ichigo decided he wasn't an enemy, but that never meant he was an ally.

He held out a wrinkled hand. "Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and pleased to make your acquaintance."

Ichigo hesitated before shaking his offered hand. "You have a long name, Jii-san." he commented in accented English.

Dumbledore chucked. "May others say the same."

Fudge glared at Dumbledore. "This is no time to exchange words with a creature that can potentially kill the entire Ministry!"

"Watch who you call a creature, Minister."growled Ichigo, turning his burning eyes to Fudge.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And how did you know he was the Minister, er…"

"Ich-"

Not your real name!

Wait, then which one?

Use the one in your fake passport!

"Ichiro. Ichiro Kuro" he finished.

Why not my real name?

They might look in your records and find something out! Better to use the cover story we got when we were on the mission.

If Dumbledore found something strange in the way he Ichigo, or Ichiro, stopped, he made no comment. "Thank you, Ichiro. And, again, how did you know he was Minister?"

Ichigo snorted. "Because he pranced into the room every day and everyone called him the Minister. The glass wasn't sound proof, you know."

Fudge shot a look at the orange-haired teenager. "You know an awful lot of English for a foreigner. What were you doing, floating in the skies of London with no broom?"

Ichigo shrugged. Urahara had made him a fake background before he went on his mission to England, but the floating in air part was a little hard to explain.

"I took English as a class in Japan, and came here on a vacation over the summer. I was supposed to be with my relatives, but as you could tell, I was kidnapped, tortured, and my magic was being drained from my body."

Fudge reddened. "That doesn't explain anything! I want answers, you creature!"

Ichigo bristled with fury. In his mind, Shiro and Zangetsu howled with outrage. But before any of them could jump up and attack the Minister, Dumbledore leaped up from his chair and stood between the two. Ichigo only saw the midnight blue back of the old man, but he could fee rage rolling off Dumbledore and suffocating the room. The reiatsu of the old man was soaked with anger, and Fudge felt it, even if he didn't know what it was. It was like in the animal kingdom, where an animal backs down and away from another, because it feels its superiority. And so, just like the weaker animal, Fudge quickly stood up from his chair and rushed out. But as he opened the door he shot a dirty look at Ichigo, who shot a look of pure hate in return. Then the Minister turned and left through the doorway.

Dumbledore's reiatsu continued to leak out in anger before calming down. He sat down again and faced Ichigo.

"The Ministry nowadays, I'm afraid, Ichiro, is less than sturdy." sighed Dumbledore while running a hand through his beard.

Ichigo scowled. "I'm surprised it hasn't collapse with their pitiful morals."

At this, Dumbledore glanced up. "Ah, regarding your situation. You are in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the Hospital Wing, where we have been treating your injuries for the last few days, although you have proven to be a… fast healer."

Ichigo shrugged off the comment. It isn't Shiro's fault for having regenerative skills.

Damn straight it's not!

Dumbledore continued. "You have been in the basement of the Ministry of Magic," here Ichigo felt Dumbledore's reiatsu flare with anger "for about three months."

"THREE MONTHS?!"

I was stuck in that place for three months!? Rukia and Renji are going to kill me, Yuzu and Karin are probably worried sick, and oh Kami, Yama-jii is going to set me on fire for not turning in a report, and I'll have at least fifty unanswered Hell Butterflies. Speaking of which, I need to get to them soon.

"Now, Ichiro, I'm sure you-"

"Sorry Jii-san, but can you open a window, or a door?"

"Do you need fresh air?"

Shaking his head, Ichigo replied glumly, "I wish it was just that."

Though confused, Dumbledore flicked his wand and opened the windows and the doors of the Hospital Wing. With the windows open, Ichigo braced himself and shot out a portion of his reiatsu towards the ceiling like a flare. It was barely the size of his pinky finger, but it was the most he could do in his weakened state. And though it might take a minute over the usual instant appearance, the Hell Butterflies could track his location. Having sent his signal, Ichigo leaned back on the pillows of his hospital bed and sighed. Coming from outside the room, his ears picked up various people walking and chatting. He threw a questioning glance at the wizard.

"I did say that this is a school for wizards. We are probably serving breakfast in the Great Hall at the moment." Dumbledore explained easily. He raised an amused eyebrow at Ichigo and asked, "But why with the windows, Ichiro?"

Seeing at it was better to prepare the old man first, Ichigo explained. "I'm expecting some, mail, I guess you could call it, and thought it would be harder for it to enter with windows closed."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Do you use owls often?"

Ichigo frowned. Owls? "Er, no. I use, um… er…" Ichigo cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I use-"

"BUTTERFLIES!" came a shout from outside. There was a sound like a massive riot and panic, and some yells of "BUTTERFLIES!" thrown in. Ichigo winced at the sound of some plates crashing, and watched as a swarm of at least a hundred butterflies made their way into the room from the windows and the doors.

Black with purple markings, the Hell Butterflies fluttered and soared towards the orange-haired shinigami and the silver-bearded wizard. They landed on the bed, the walls, the ceiling, or on Ichigo himself. Some even rested their wings on the headmaster, who looked highly amused. Ichigo sighed heavily and lifted a finger for the first message.

"Well, I use butterflies for mail, Jii-san."