A/N: Hey all you readers, it's been a while. See, I'm still alive; I updated!

To answer a couple questions/comments:
Ron was listening through the Extendable Ear - something Kurama has no idea about. All Kurama knows is that no one was standing by the window listening to them talk.
Q: Will Yusuke and Hiei be there? A: Yes, probably half-way in the school year or so. There's still things I have to introduce before that can happen.

It tingled.

Who knew the abundance of magic could tingle his soul? As Kurama set foot in the Castle, the magic that washed over him was nothing like he had ever experienced. Demon magic was as one expected it to be - hostile, raw, and intense as the demon itself. This magic, on the other hand, was soothing. There was an undertone to it that seemed to caress him, nudge him, and invite him into her vicinity; it was the magic of a welcoming castle.

x

"What's wrong with you, Ron?" Harry hissed as they politely clapped for the newly sorted first years.

Ron refused to look over, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what you're talking about," the teen said defiantly.

"You know what. The way you're treating my cousin," Harry replied with a scowl.

In the week leading up to their trip to King's Cross, Ron's behaviour towards Shuuichi grew more and more hostile. He'd grown from paranoia of Shuuichi trying to flirt with the girls, to open hatred. Something changed overnight, but Harry didn't know what.

"Look," Ron whispered out, "How do you even know he's your real cousin?"

"What?"

"How do you know he's not a Death Eater in disguise?" Ron continued heatedly.

Harry stared at Ron, "Are you serious? A Death Eater? Shuuichi?" Harry rolled his eyes, "He didn't even know he was a wizard before he got his Hogwarts letter a few weeks ago."

"Well, maybe not a Death Eater," Ron said reluctantly, "He can still be allied with them."

"He didn't even know about the wizarding world."

"So he says," Ron rebutted.

Harry sent a glowering glare at his friend, anger in his tone. "I know you don't like Shuuichi, but that doesn't give you a reason for accusing him like that!"

Ron hissed, "I'm telling the truth, Harry. I heard him talk with them with my own ears!"

Harry shook his head. "When; in the Burrow? Then why didn't they just attack us to get it over with if they can make it past your family wards? Shuichi's not even a pureblood, so I highly doubt Voldemort would consider recruiting him in the first place. You probably had a nightmare."

"Come on, he might not even really be your cousin! I mean, that red hair; he's probably trying too hard to look like your family and forgot to pretend to be Japanese," Ron argued.

Harry couldn't deny Shuuichi didn't look like a typical Japanese, and a little too much like his mum, but he wasn't about to start alienating his cousin just because of some coincidences. "Look," Harry bit out, "Stop bad-mouthing my cousin, Ron. He's family, and you know how much I hate it when people talk bad about my family and friends."

"He's not- "

"Ron!"

Ron clenched his fists in anger but relented in the end, in the receiving end of Harry's disappointed gaze. "Fine; I'll stop, but don't expect me to accept him."

Harry sighed, "I know." He gave a weak smile at his friend. "Give it some time. You'll see; Shuuichi's not that bad." Ron just grunted more certain than ever this was some plot, calculated to take advantage of his friend's weak points.

In the front of the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore smiled as he watched the final sorted student scramble to his spot in the Ravenclaw table. With a cough, he stood up and slowly drew his students' attention. "That is the last of the first year, but it is with my great pleasure to introduce yet another student to our growing family!" He clasped his hands in front of himself. "It appeared that three students managed to slip through the system due to some problems with our old spell cast to detect prospective first years." The headmaster shook his head shamefully at the mistake. "All three have accepted the offer, but sadly, due to application complications, travel problems, and misplacement of parchments and missives due to my old age, it seems there will be a delay for two of our students. Our third, however," Professor raised his arm, and the doors to the Great Hall opened by itself, "Please welcome Shuuichi Minamino."

The students collectively looked over as a redhead strolled in. The teen gave a pleasant smile and a bow, "Thank you, Headmaster," he said, voice echoing across the Hall. Shuuichi would never realise, but that was the exact moment yet another unofficial fanclub of his was established. It seemed he would never escape one, whether it was Meiou High or Hogwarts.

The teen made his way to the front of the Grand Hall, accepting the raggedy sorting hat from the Deputy Headmistress. The hat let out a grumble the moment it touched his head.

Anything wrong? Kurama thought to it.

It is troublesome to evade your magic in order to look into your mind, it answered, Not impossible - I am the sorting hat, after all - but a pain to do so.

Kurama sent an apologetic smile to the hat as it complained some more about having to sort through a thousand years worth of memories. Hasn't Dumbledore assigned me a house regardless of your sorting? Kurama asked helpfully.

The hat snorted, That may be so, but I am obligated to sort any student who puts me on the right way first. Whether I actually declare the right house is up to me. Kurama nodded understandingly. He supposed the sorting hat couldn't escape its original enchanted orders, despite the command the Headmaster had given it.

It was only a few minutes later when the stitching of the hat for its mouth came undone and a shout of Slytherin echoed down the tables. And I do say it's appropriate, were the hat's parting words before Kurama hopped off the stoll and handed back the hat to the Deputy Headmistress.

Around the table coloured with green and silver, the cheering and clapping seemed more out of courtesy than any bit enthusiastic.

By the table coloured with red and gold, a ginger teen was glaring. "What did I tell you? He's a slimy snake."

"Ron," Hermione chastised, "Just because Shuuichi is in Slytherin doesn't make him as bad as most of them."

"Name one bloke from Slytherin who wasn't evil."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. The only people Harry knew who were from Slytherin were Tom Riddle, the Malfoys, the Blacks, and Snape, and calling them not evil was pushing it. He doubted voicing his thoughts would help his cause.

"See," Ron cut in, "You can't name any!"

"Ron, I thinking! Besides, I don't know Slytherins all that well."

"That's 'cause they're all evil!"

Hermione gave a huff and turned away from the ginger, grabbing some dinner. "Seriously, what is wrong with him," She hissed to Harry. How prejudice could he be?

Harry shook his head, shoulders shrugging. "Who knows." He thought over Ron's actions before giving it his best guess. "Jealousy, maybe? You and Ginny – and me as well -, well, we've been spending a lot of time with Shuuichi." The teen rubbed his chin, "And I don't think anyone missed how much attention Shuuichi got when he entered to be sorted." Harry would only be mildly exaggerating if he said there had practically been a collective dreamy sigh the moment the guy smiled.

"Shuuichi is very insightful and polite, and I'm not surprise he caught everyone's attention. If Ron has the time to feel jealous, he should learn to behave like a gentleman."

Harry laughed silently and looked over at Ron viciously stuffing his face. He really hoped jealousy was Ron's problem, and nothing more – because the bitter feeling of jealousy could be overcome one way or another. He wouldn't be able to stand it if his cousin and best friend never got along.

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs as he leaned back onto the grand Headmaster's chair in his office. "Do you suppose I made the correct choice?" He asked himself.

On the shelf behind him the sorting hat chuckled, stiches pulling where his mouth was sown. "You know you're becoming senile when you start talking to yourself, Albus," the hat retorted with amusement.

"Well, I'd like to believe we're all a little senile, my old friend," the headmaster replied amicably, "It keeps the world interesting." The old man moved to pluck a lemon drop off his desk, popping it into his mouth as he thought. "That young man, Shuuichi – did I make the right choice sending him to Slytherin?" he wondered out loud.

Silence greeted his question.

Albus Dumbledore continued regardless, "I'm afraid this might affect his relationship with Harry. I'd always considered keeping the two cousins together, but due to the unforeseen circumstances with Shuuichi's detective partners, I didn't have a choice." The man ran his fingers through his long silver beard, combing out knots with each stroke. "Someone needs to be on the inside to keep an eye out for the students of Slytherin, and it'll be much too late to wait for the arrival of the other two detectives."

"It's quite too late now, Albus," the old sorting hat finally spoke up, "We can't resort him. You'll just have to see how the boy does in a den full of snakes."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said hopefully, "At the very least this might help with the currently-lacking interhouse relationship."

People called the Slytherin dorm the snake den, but Kurama disagreed with that statement. A 'den' implied a lair; a home. A home was supposed to be filled with family - people who cared for each other with love and kindness. This was not the case here.

The Slytherin dorm had a hierarchy of its own. Age rarely played a factor. The main focus was on money and influence. Those whose parents played the highest role in the wizarding world, and had gallons among gallons in their multiple bank accounts were considered the most superior. In a sense, this description was made for one, Draco Malfoy.

Said sixth-year boy lounged gracefully in the common room couch, as the other Slytherins flitted around him, wary to invoke his wrath.

He was, in a sense, Kurama noted, the alpha of this so-called family, and yet none of that status was likely earned on his own. The boy basked in the life of the strongest and highest class, but never endured the hardships that came with it. He was, frankly, a child playing make-believe until one day, he would be prematurely flung out of his comfortable childhood and tossed into a harsh adult life he was not ready for.

Kurama stood on top of the staircase leading to the dorm rooms, watching the scene in the common room below. Standing off to the side, back towards the wall, he avoided obstructing the traffic to and fro, while having a perfect view of the situation below. It was the perfect location to observe the common room as a whole without requiring to be part of the scene himself.

Draco Malfoy, he observed, knew not how to preserve his life. Assuming that a title was enough to keep him out of harm's way was an idea proved false too many times. Yet, like the innocent child he was, Malfoy, was blissfully unaware of such facts, and boastfully sat himself in the middle of the common room among enemies, all side vulnerable to attacks. His only defenses were two bulky bodyguards with nothing but brawn. They kept the two sides of Malfoy safe from attacks, yet it was most likely that they would not know what to do, should an attack happen, without the guidance of the blond.

Kurama watched as Malfoy nodded his head at the two guards and they slowly lumbered towards him. He followed them to the blond on the couch, who, after scrutinizing him from the tip of his nose, finally held out a hand. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," the blond said, as a form of greeting.

"Pleasure," Kurama replied, "Shuuichi Minamino," he offered back.

The younger teen didn't even bother to hide the crinkle of his nose at the name Kurama gave. "Minamino?" Malfoy said, like the name tasted bitter on his tongue, "Not any pureblood I've ever heard of."

"I don't believe I am," Shuichi replied evenly.

"A mud- muggleborn?" the blond continued. Kurama was more than aware of the slur the blond almost spoke out. Not that Kurama would have been insulted by the foreign word, but it did speak of the Slytherin house's somewhat finer qualities – such as their attempts at being relatively more respectful of those in their own house. Kurama had no doubt were he of any other house, the word mudblood would have been thrown at him without any attempts at censorship.

"It is my understanding my mother is something of a squib," Kurama answered amicably.

First years would have flinched at the barely hidden distain on Malfoy's face. Muggleborns in Slythering would have trembled and looked away, ashamed. Kurama only wore a smile and gave an impervious stare. "Well," the blond finally said, "You'd better learn to choose your friends wisely, and know who to respect." He leaned forwards trying to stare down the redhead in front of him. "Otherwise, you won't want to know what will happen to you."

"Sound advice, I'm certain," Kurama said, emerald eyes glinting back at him. Unconsciously, Draco backed down, instincts leading his movement. "I'll be sure to keep it in mind." With a smile, the redhead dismissed himself without another word, leaving Draco Malfoy to stare mutely at the boy's retreating back.

Classes were unusual, sprinkled with the taste of magic. Nevertheless, once Kurama overlooked that matter, they were all fairly straightforward.

Potions class was simply the art of brewing potions. The results of the class depended solely on how closely the students manage to follow the potion recipe on the front board. It seemed surprisingly simple for all students to be able to do well in this class. At least that was Kurama's opinion before the Professor swept into the classroom with vicious snarls on his lips.

Snape was a taciturn sort, who gave bare minimum instructions. He'd burned holes in the back of Kurama's head, staring at him when the teen wasn't looking, but otherwise ignored him as he did for the other Slytherins. Kurama didn't know if Snape's cranky behaviour was typical, or if it was because of Kurama's appearance (because yes, the redhead realised the aching pain that surfaced when the man looked at him. Another thing linked to Lily, perhaps?), but the man took to humiliating the Gryffindors in the class as much as possible. It was petty, the way Snape targeted Harry. He goaded the boy and publicly announced his barely passing ability to meet the high expectations of his sixth-year potions course.

The Slytherins in the class laughed at him, leaving Harry to fume silently while working. Kurama supposed his cousin had built up a tolerance for it over the years. Clearly Harry was not so popular amongst Slytherin. The fact that Kurama was treated indifferently by his own house led him to believe his status as the Boy-who-lived's cousin had clearly not been distributed to the other students. Otherwise, he suspected, they would've tried their hand at harassing him as well by now.

The class Kurama enjoyed the most during the day was, without a doubt, Herbology. For a plant-user such as himself, it was no surprise. A slightly plump, soft-spoken witch called Sprout, taught the class. She loved her work, and as told by her dirt-ridden nails, she spent hours doing what she loved. Kurama was more than intrigued with all the different species exclusive to wizards. There were some overlap with demon plants – with a different name, and slightly dampened down mutant form, perhaps –, but most were quite unique. Of course, being a sixth-year Herbology course, none of the more interesting plants were studied, but the textbook and chats with Professor Sprout gave Kurama plenty to work with.

Transfiguration, apparently, was a more delicate sort of art, and as such, Kurama had been force down yet another year. Professor McGonagall gave Kurama a sympathetic grimace when the seventeen-year-old was mobbed by the fifteen-year-old preteens the moment he stepped into her classroom. As expected, the course work was more complicated than the other courses he took.

The ability to change an object from one form to another was interesting theory-wise, but not something Kurama believed he, or another other demon for that matter, could do proficiently. These witches and wizards, had a type of energy – magic - that was, in a sense, malleable. It was light and flexible, and when channeled into their wands, could gently reshape objects in a slow, soft manner that didn't disturb the nature of the object. Aided by the core of the hair or feather of a naturally magical creature, the flow of magic through a wizard's wand was more-or-less assisted in performing their desired outcome, drawing in help from the lingering magic of the core material – that was why certain cores had certain characteristics.

Demon energy, like the kind Kurama had, was opposite in every sense. The differences had occurred to Kurama the moment he set foot in the magical castle. A demon's energy was more similar to spirit energy than a wizard's magic; it was something more raw. Unlike other wizards, Kurama wasn't channeling his 'magic' through the wand, but instead he was forcing energy down and through the strand of his own hair in the core of the wand. Raw energy, after being pushed through a stick, was difficult to control. It refused to be docile enough so that it could change something's shape instead of destroying it. His every flick left a trail of destruction behind.

In a way, Kurama observed, wizard magic was for fine-tuning things, while demon magic was for larger scale projects. Both had their own merits given a situation. As for wizards with a large magical core, it seemed they would be proficient in both fine-tuning and these large scale projects. Those were who Kurama would have to look out for.

In addition to these courses, Kurama also took Defense Against the Dark Arts with his fellow sixth-years. On the train ride up to Hogwarts, Harry had told him about the cursed DADA position, which left the course switching professors every year. This year, Dumbledore dropped a little hint to Harry (which was fair, considering every DADA prof so far had more or less tried to kill him) that a certain Alastor Moody would be 'returning' to the post.

That, of course, led to a discussion of how the last 'Professor Moody' had been a fake under polyjuice. Kurama made a note to keep an eye out on the Professor, should it happen again, but he doubt Dumbledore would be foolish enough to be deceived twice. It was clear that this Alastor Moody was trusted by the Headmaster to be appointed the DADA position, especially during these dangerous times with demon threats present.

It took a bit of subtle questioning, but Kurama eventually was told how much of a formidable man Moody was. Kurama had a feeling Moody's 'mad-eye' was going to be hard to evade, and that was barring the man's extreme paranoia. It was times like this he despised having to go incognito during a mission, but it was also times like this his demon blood sang at the new challenge.

With the enjoyable days he was having, months passed without a hitch. Then, things got rocky.

The day started out fine actually; Shuichi, as he had been for the last couple weeks, practically had bodies thrown at him in an attempt to ask him out for the annual Yule Ball.

Kurama was more than sufficient at socialising, but the idea of the Yule Ball did not appeal to him. The thought of guarding Harry in such a crowded, loud area brought a frustrated frown to Kurama's face. He hoped, silently and internally of course, that Harry would consider missing the event, but alas, that was far from reality. The boy was eager to go because his friends were going, so that meant Kurama had a Ball to attend as well.

x

Dressed in his best dressrobe, Harry stood in the Gryffindor Common Room with Ron, waiting for Hermione to come down.

It was obvious the ginger was nervous with the way his mouth babbled on and on about absolutely nothing. "You think this looks fine on me? Not to dressy, but still looks good? Like I'm not trying too hard to look nice, 'cause I'm not that eager," Ron rambled at Harry, tugging the fabric of his new dressrobe.

Harry laughed. Ron had rushed to ask Hermione to be his date the moment the Ball was announced, remembering the disaster that was the years before. Of course, right after Hermione accepted, the teen was in a mess when he realized he only had that hideous robe from the Yule Ball way back when. As an early Christmas present, Harry bought Ron a fitting robe - modern and without those nasty frills.

"It's fine, it's fine, mate." Harry's green eyes twinkled as he eyed over Ron's appearance. His lanky, red-headed friend in a dark maroon robe looked like the flames of the sun itself. The dressrobes, unlike his usual hand-me-downs allowed his figure to seem more filled out than the normal awkward, gangly look he portrayed. "Hermione will love it."

The ginger blushed to the tip of his ears at the thought, and it stayed as he caught sight of Hermione coming down the stairs. Her hair was left wavy, coming around her face, tied up in a half bun by the back of her head. Her dress, after hearing from Harry that Ron's robes were dark red, was a light auburn chocolate colour with golden trims to match the Weasley's.

Ron's mouth fell open with a "Blimey".

"Where's your date, Harry?" Hermione asked, after muttering an embarrassed "thank you" to Ron.

The Boy-who-lived shrugged, "After that failure at the Yule Ball, I figured I would just go without a date this time," he explained. He didn't need another girl getting mad at him for being a horrible date.

The three of the trotted towards the entrance of their Common Room. As the painting of the Fat Lady swung opened, Harry noticed an elegant figure standing outside. Harry blinked at the familiarity of the sight of the figure in the midnight black dressrobe. Long, red hair was tied in a low ponytail, held in place by the nape of their neck with a single, perfect rose. Harry frowned. "Uhhh, … Shuuichi?" he finally guessed, because no other teen he'd known possessed the grace his cousin moved in.

The trio could see it was indeed Shuuichi when the teen turned around. "Yes, Harry?"

Despite becoming separated into different houses, Harry still managed to interact with his cousin every now and then. Their time together was few and far in between, but Harry was relieved that his cousin's attitude towards him never changed, even when it was clear all Slytherins were expected to hate him. For his cousin's sake, Harry tried to keep their meetings discreet and away from the prying eyes of other Slytherins. He tried to seem merely civil rather than too friendly when Slytherins were around. It was a bit frustrating hiding like that, but Harry really didn't want Shuuichi ostracized by his own house.

At the moment, the coast was clear, and Harry couldn't help teasing the other teen. "What are you doing here? Waiting for that lucky one of your two-hundred potential dates?"

Ron looked like he tasted something sour, before urging the group forwards. "Come on, let's go before we're late."

Kurama fell into pace beside them quickly. "Not really; I was waiting for you. I heard you turned down your two-hundred or so courters as well," he retorted amusedly, giving out a soft chuckle.

They slipped into small talk for the next few minutes as they made their way into the ballroom. The ballroom was decorated in winter colours - there were silver, lavender, and pale blue streamers hung across the ceiling, curling around the glistening ice-like chandelier in the center of it all. Decorated Christmas trees stood around the room covered in magically produced snow that twinkled with every blink. The floors glittered as if it was ice itself, and the furniture were charmed white and soft like the wings of a Christmas angel.

To the side of the room stood the teachers on chaperone duty – Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Kurama glanced over at them quickly, making a note of who was present, before turning back to the room itself. He was mildly pleased Moody wasn't with them; there was only so much Kurama could do to discreetly use his powers should the need arise, and hiding from a magical eye in a room as small as this was near impossible.

The loud bangs of the band indicated the start of the ball. Immediately the dance floor was occupied. Kurama had no choice but to dance as the invitations came. The teen was waltzing slowly with the giggling Hufflepuff in yellow - his fourth dance, and waiting list still growing –, grimacing from the headache from the ever-changing perfume of the girls he danced with, when the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of screams and shrieks.

At once, the redhead pushed the girl towards her friends, scrambling to locate the source of the problem. Despite what sounded initially like a loud attack, it wasn't as catastrophic as Kurama feared. The ballroom was built into a circular chamber which echoed and amplified the small explosion by the back of the room. There, Kurama saw a couple creatures, undoubtly demons, lurking in the dim of the shadows. They howled in vicious delight, saviouring the fear they caused as they watched the students of Hogwarts trip over themselves fleeing in fright.

Within the shadows, the demons moved fast, and their high shrilling howls cut through their obstructions like a wave of energy. Pillars chipped and crumbled around the stampeding crowd like cement snow, raining down on their heads and adding a obstructing cloud of dust to the confusion. Above them, the chandelier broke with a loud shatter, dropping pellets of icicles down on the crowd.

Kurama's eyes darted quickly trying to locate Harry Potter, even as he tried to slip his way through the throngs of students running desperately past him.

He swept behind a long, simmering veil, hanging half-attached to the ceiling, attempting to hide himself. He could hear the Professors by the entrance of the ballroom, calling students over and casting shields against falling tiles.

Kurama slipped a hand around the rose tied around his hair, pulling it loose. With a small burst of youki, the rose shed its petals in a gush of whirlwind that carried it across the room. No one paid any heed to the pale pink petals, lost amidst the chaos and dust. They were delicate looking things, so innocent, but Kurama could manipulate them to sharpen as sharp as blades at a moment's notice. Its damage wasn't at the level of his Rose Whip, but it was a good way to keep the demons distracted until he could get near them.

Kurama could detect the first one behind the stage set up in the ball room. Pulling the white veil along with him, Kurama dashed out. He flung the veil around him as he attacked, obscuring the vision of the battle as he pulled out his Rose Whip. The demon let out a loud growl, torn by the thorns of his whip, and the blood that gushed out soaked onto the fallen veil instead of Kurama.

The ballroom was suddenly aglow with red as stunners were shot to no effect. Kurama's eyes narrowed at the sight of Harry leading the attack, guarding the backs of the younger kids. His cousin was reckless.

Kurama shot off towards him, snagging the stage curtain along with him. He doubt it would be enough to cover another one of his attacks once more – especially if Harry persisted to stay by the other demon instead of running – but it would at least disrupt the demon's attack if thrown at him.

Harry was scrambling backwards by now. His wand was still outstretched and firing relentlessly, but even the teen could tell this was a hopeless battle. He was slowly trying to inch away without appearing afraid in front of the enemy. The demon, on the other hand, grinned a toothy grin, stalking forwards in amusement. The moment it looked ready to jump at the teen, Kurama let out a burst of energy. In response, Kurama's drifting petals struck – they suddenly moved in a uniformed manner, twisting and slicing into the demon in a tornado of pink.

The demon leaped backwards, snarling.

With that, Kurama had enough time to reach Harry, pulling the teen by the back of collar until he was behind him. He watched the demon warily, tense and ready to attack should it sudden turn back on them once again. But, it never did. While Kurama had been running towards Harry, the demon had been looking around, trying to detect the origin of the attack. Kurama had all but supressed his youki since then, so he wasn't discovered, and by the time Kurama finally reached Harry, the demon was distracted by the sight of his fallen fellow demon.

Kurama could see the moment the demon decided to withdraw. He could see the way it realised it was probably not the strongest thing in the room. He could see the way it stiffed, fearful of dying like his companion. He could see the way it considered fleeing rather than face any possible danger in the room.

It was the thought process of a selfish low-class demon – one who would only attack when it knew it was the strongest one in battle, and grovel before anyone strong.

It ran the moment it knew there was something in the room strong enough to kill demons.

Kurama let out a sigh of relief. Had Kurama had backup, the redhead would've considered tracking the fleeing demon to see where it would lead him. However, he did not, and Harry was currently clinging to the back of his dressrobe, looking like he was afraid of what could have happened to Shuuichi.

"Why did you pull me back? It could've killed you!" the raven-haired teen demanded heatedly, fist clenched tight.

"I could say the same to your heroic act," Kurama retorted, recalling how startled he felt when he noticed Harry's first course of action in the face of danger was to defend instead of run away.

Ron and Hermione were beside Harry in an instant, never far off from him in the first place. "You both have a saving people thing, don't you?" the girl muttered shakily.

"We are related," Harry tried to joke as Kurama pulled the trio out of the ballroom and into the safety of the hall.

The Headmaster nodded at Shuuichi as he passed by. The teen shooed the reluctant trio back to their Common Room, before doubling back to where Dumbledore stood.

"Thank you for protecting my students tonight," the old man said solemnly. His eyes no longer twinkling as it had when they met. The grandfatherly wrinkles on his face aged him decades older as the man surveyed the damage.

"That is what I am here to do," Kurama stated softly, promise on his lips. He stared at the mangled figure of the demon he fought, half covered under the reddening cover of veil. "It was unfortunate that these particular demons attacked," the teen continued. At the Ablus' look, he elaborated, "The two that attacked appeared to be low class demons - D or E–class. I suspect an adult wizard could typically put one down with a slight fight in normal cases, but in this instant," he continued, "those two had particular thick skin. Your spells couldn't penetrate through to work." The teen shook his head, "I don't know if that was just a coincidence, or they were chosen to attack for this reason exactly."

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully, "I see."

"It appears they're starting to make their move now."

"Indeed."

The children were sent back to their dorms where their Head of House fed them lies of magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest. They were given vague explanations of a non-native creature, attracted to the Yule Ball by the noise of their party. They were told about a non-existent mating season which caused the creatures' unexpected viciousness, and how the lack of wards against them were due to how they had never been seen before in the Forbidden Forest.

The Professor gave calming smile, and lied about taking care of the warding over the winter break.

Whether the students believed the lies or not were up to the little wizards and witches, but each and every student left on their Winter Break with a story to tell. Those who were injured had nothing worse than a faulty Quidditch match could inflict on them, yet their fears would likely take longer to heal.