Yo. School's starting on Wednesday, so my updates won't be this regular. Job + AP English + Having to walk home = Annoyance.

Also, I have no idea where half of this chapter came from. I'm in a really weird mood and it shows.

Note: There will be no shinobi attacks on the castle or anything similar. It'll completely fuck with the plot I set up. But don't worry, people, there'll be action. And use of the Chidori.

Disclaimer: Just borrowin'.

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Chapter Five

I love it.

For once, Obito, I think I have to agree.

Not matter how Kakashi looked at it, Hogwarts was amazing beyond compare. He'd been all over the Hidden Continent, and never, never had he seen a castle or any manmade structure this grand. There was a picture of it on the cover of Hogwarts, A History, but it didn't compare to the real thing at all. For the moment at least, his act of the happy, impressed exchange student became completely, one hundred percent genuine.

"What do you think?" asked Hermione with a grin, falling into step with him as they crossed the giant threshold into what was probably the most beautiful building entrance he'd ever seen. Wizards were overly extravagant and didn't understand the concept of moderation, but he had to admit it paid off. Suddenly he didn't mind protecting the school as much, because it the thought of this being destroyed was a real shame. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yeah," he said, looking up at the ceiling and then all around. "When—how does this place even work?"

With a shrug, she answered, "Magic," and it explained everything.

"Chakra could never do this," he said when he made sure no one was listening. "It isn't practical at all, but it's just—"

"I know what you mean. Oh! There's Professor Sprout, I think she's coming over to talk to you."

And indeed the teacher was, making a beeline in his direction. He looked to Hermione and threw her a casual, not entirely faked smile. "I'll see you after the Sorting."

"At the Gryffindor table," added Harry as they headed away, leaving him momentarily alone with the oncoming teacher.

The woman asked, "Are you Mr. Hatake?"

Who else would he be?

"Yes," he answered and was very pleased to find out she was shorter than him. People in England where much too tall. Really. "Um, I guess you're here about the Sorting…"

"Oh, of course." She reminded him very strongly of a doting civilian grandma who spent most of her time baking pastries or working on her garden; she smelled of earth and flowers. "You're going to be Sorted last. This a very unusual situation, you know, I don't think we've had an exchange student since Achilles Adonis, and that was when Professor Dumbledore was just a student!"

"Then I'm very honored that I was chosen, Professor," he said politely, wondering what kind of name Achilles Adonis was. "So, do I go stand with the first years or do something else?"

"You know how the Sorting goes?"

"I stayed with the Weasleys over the summer to improve my English."

She smiled and lead him towards the dining hall—Great Hall, everyone called it—and said, "Well, your English is perfect! Professor Dumbledore said you were coming all the way from Japan, so I was expecting more of an accent, I must admit. He also said you were to wearing the symbol of your school. Is that the headband?"

"Thank you," he answered. "And yes. We don't have a uniform, just this."

"Then I'm sure this must be a strange adjust meant to you," she said kindly. Well, she wasn't entirely wrong; while he was used to uniforms, he had to get used to the robes. They slipped in through the doors as everyone took their seats. With a bit of amusement, he saw Ron shake his head a girl who was about to take the seat next to him, and read his lips as he told her it was saved for someone. "Here, you are to stand by the door, either side will do, and when the Sorting ends, Professor McGonagall will call you up and Professor Dumbledore will give you a small introduction so the other students understand the situation. Now, I have to go back to the staff table. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hatake!"

"Thank you, nice to meet you, too." he said, settling against the back wall, shadowed so no one noticed him. The ceiling above him looked exactly like the night sky, like Hogwarts, A History said. Harry searched him out anyway, sending him a small and mouthing, "Good luck!" He gave a bright smile back.

Phase One: Earning Trust and Affection was a full success.

His eye searched the hall, finding Malfoy and friends at the table furthest from the Gryffindors. Cho sat at the table next to that, laughing at something a curly-haired redhead said, Luna not too far down from them. The only table where he knew no one came in between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and he figured it was Hufflepuff. At the Gryffindor table, he easily found all the Weasley kids, and saw that Neville sat near the trio of friends he spent the summer with. Then he noticed Hermione pointing at something up at the staff table; he followed her gaze and almost died of horror right there.

For sitting up next to Dumbledore was a woman with a bright pink sweater and bright pink robes. Her face was frog-like, and her curls were cut short, a pink clip embedded in her hair. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman was Dolores Umbridge, the teacher who was going to make his and Harry's lives miserable and try to take control of the school. Sirius described her as evil and with one look at that sickeningly sweet smile, Kakashi knew he was more than right. He'd been literally tortured enough times to recognize the many faces of a sadist and those that looked happy were also the absolute worst. They were the always the cruelest, the ones that got angry if you didn't scream and laughed if you did.

Hokage-sama said he shouldn't underestimate wizards, that they could be dangerous, but he was expecting that.

Then the Great Hall doors opened and the first years entered, Minerva heading the line. She caught her eye for a moment, flicked them to Umbridge, and pressed her mouth into a thinness of disapproval. Impression confirmed.

Be careful with that one, Kakashi-kun, warned Rin in his mind.

I know. Fuck, if she tries to take over the school, I think she could do it.

I'd say kill her, but…

Yeah, I know. Orders. This is bad.

The Sorting Hat broke into song, but he wasn't paying attention, distracted by his first real enemy and Rin's voice in his head.

Maybe your pessimism wasn't too far off.

Come on, I thought your entire purpose was supposed to make me feel better.

Yeah, but I can still be realistic.

Minerva called, "Abercrombie, Euan."

What do you think she's going to do?

Antagonize Harry, try to screw with you. Be extra cautious around her.

No questions. Act like a normal wizard. Got it.

You should tell at least Hermione. Wait, if you're not—

Keep yourself and Obito out of my head while I'm being Sorted.

Are you going to ask if it tries putting you somewhere other than Gryffindor?

What're the odds?

You could be a Ravenclaw, which is a problem. I mean you're brave, but…

But my loyalty isn't exactly commendable.

I wouldn't say that. You just don't connect well with people. Loyal to Konoha…

I don't think that's what they're asking for. And go, the Sorting's done.

I'll keep Obito out. Good luck, stay safe. I'll check in tonight.

As she disappeared, Dumbledore stood, a peaceful smile on his face. "To our newcomers," he said, voice easily heard throughout the room, "welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! I know you all want to enjoy another delicious meal, but I have an announcement to make first.

"This year something very special has happened." There was silence in the room other than his voice and Kakashi had to admire his ability to get a group of civilian kids to shut the hell up. "For the first time in ninety-eight years, Hogwarts has accepted an exchange student. He comes all the way from Japan, and has greatly advanced in his studies. His headmaster asked if he could take a year to study at Hogwarts as a fifth year, to broaden his knowledge outside that of his country, and who am I to deny a young man of a learning experience?

"Please, welcome Kakashi Hatake."

Clapping broke out, and Minerva motioned for him to come to forward to the stool. Vaguely, he recognized a new sensation he felt as nervousness, but forced it down so it became nonexistent. He'd taken much worse than standing alone, as the center of attention, in front of a room of one thousand or so. This mission was screwing with his head, and it was only a month it. He learned shinobi emotional training since he was four, and traditionally didn't feel anything at all. This was ridiculous.

When he sat, Minerva put the hat on his head, and it embarrassingly almost fell over his eyes. The room was silent, a sort of uncomfortable (at least for him) anticipation in the air.

You aren't a real student, said the Hat, which was still unnerving even if he was warned beforehand.

No, he answered. No, I'm not. Are you going to Sort me?

Well, you're very cunning, but lack ambition…hard working, true, but much to unique for a Hufflepuff…perhaps the most brilliant head I've ever been place upon…

Please just put me in Gryffindor. I don't care if I don't belong there.

You're very brave, it said, ignoring him, fought nightmares, I see.

Keep out of those!

You want to be there in Gryffindor to join your friends, do you? Yes, I see, you're very loyal.

I—what? Friends?

Loyal to your home, loyal to friends and new teammates, though you weren't always this way. I do believe that the place you most belong, despite your brilliance, is—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Relief washed over him as his new housemates broke in applause and cheers. He handed the old Sorting hat back to Minerva who said very quietly, "Welcome to my House, Hatake. Your bed will be added to Potter's dorm." He nodded and as he walked away, he momentarily caught Dumbledore's eye. The man gave him the smallest of smiles before addressing his students and saying, "Tuck in!"

"You scared us there for a moment, mate," said Ron as he sat down, the redhead boy giving him a pat on the back. "What took you so long?"

"It felt a need to analyze my entire personality," he answered, running his fingers through his hair. Hermione, who sat to his left, positively beamed.

"It does that to most people," said Harry, leaning around Ron. Other Gryffindors were starting to move in, peering curiously. There was no doubt that they weren't even the littlest suspicious of his story, which was both good (for him) and somewhat pathetic (for them).

Two girls across from them leaned over. The paler brunette stuck out her hand and as they shook said, "I'm Lavender Brown. Dumbledore said you're name is Kakashi, right?"

"Yes," he said and her friend also stuck out her hand. He shook. Suddenly a whole bunch of hands came out, followed by introductions.

"Nice to meet you, Kakashi! I'm Pavarti—"

"I'm Katie Bell—"

"Lee Jordan, you were with—"

"Hiya, Kakashi! I'm Colin Creevey—"

"I'm Dennis—"

"Angelina John—"

"Dean Thomas, how do you know—"

"I'm Seamus Finnigan, in your—"

Ginny showed up out of nowhere and laughed. "Merlin, give him so room to breathe!"

"Welcome to Gryffindor!" said several people at once.

Wizards were so friendly.

"Nice to meet you," he said, rubbing the back of his head and pulling off the right amount of embarrassed, causing at least half the people there to comment on how good his English was.

The twins came over and the one he could now fully identify as Fred said, "He stayed with us over the summer—"

Then George said, "Should've heard our mum—"

"Loved him, she did—"

"Where else did the Hat want to put you?" asked Lavender, causing just about everyone to stare at him with interest, Harry, Ron, and Hermione included.

Figuring there was no reason to lie and hoping this would get everyone off his back, he answered, "Well, it said I definitely wasn't a Slytherin—" There was a universal sigh of relief. "—and that I was too unique for Hufflepuff—" A few laughs. "—so it was caught between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but eventually decided I belonged here."

Whoa, said Obito, you're successfully being nice. What's the world coming too?

I've done harder undercover, keep in mind.

True. Well, have fun!

Don't leave me!

Obito laughed before disappearing completely; he was almost disappointed. But there was so much going on that he didn't have time for distractions. "We knew you had it in you!" said Fred, messing up his hair, causing Kakashi to scowl.

"How old are you?" asked the girl who introduced himself as Katie Bell.

Neville said, "He's fourteen, if you can believe it!"

"But you're a fifth year!" said as Colin asked, "Can I take your picture?"

Harry shook his head at Colin and said, "No, Colin, he doesn't want a picture."

Kakashi had a feeling Harry had been dealing with this kid for a while. "I turn fifteen on September fifteen," he said before realizing that was a crap idea because now most of the Gryffindors knew his birthday. Kakashi didn't like to celebrate his birthday, so he just signed himself up for a day of misery.

"What's with the headband?" asked a tall, pompous-looking blonde boy.

"We don't have a school uniform," he answered, "so this our identifier instead, like how you have robes."

"What's Japan like?" said Pavarti. "I've always wanted to go."

"It's nice," he said, thinking of Konoha with a sort of unfamiliar homesickness. "Really different from England."

For the next ten or so minutes, he was pelted with questions remarkably similar to Neville's (meaning, at least half at to do entirely with Quidditch), helped along by the Weasleys, Neville, Harry, and Hermione. He narrowly avoided a few questions about why his eye was covered, thanks to everyone interrupting each other. Harry, he took note off, had the least number of classmates talk to him or even looking at him. Eventually everyone dispersed back to their little groups, and Kakashi picked up that there were officially five conversations about him, two about Quidditch, and several more about classes, Umbridge, or both.

"So what did McGonagall say to you?" Ron asked the four of them finally had the chance to grab the food. Kakashi, of course, had the least amount of on his plate, but he hated most English food with a passion and only grabbed what looked either tasteless or slightly edible. "You know, after you were Sorted?"

"That a bed for me is being added to your dorm," he answered as the ghost Ron called Nearly Headless Nick floated over.

"Hello, new Gryffindor," he said and Kakashi repressed a shutter. He was talking to a ghost. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. You may call me Sir Nicholas."

"Thank you," he said, knowing the ghost was going to forever be Nearly Headless Nick in his mind regardless of what he called himself. "I'm Kakashi Hatake."

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked. "About the hat giving a warning?"

The Sorting Hat gave a warning? Maybe he should've paid attention rather than talked to Rin about the sadist up at the staff table.

"Oh yes," said Nick, turning away from Kakashi to look at Hermione instead. "Yes, I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times where it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: Stand together, be strong from within."

So a hat knew how to give good advice. The wizarding world was never going to make sense to him. Ron said something through the grievous amount of foot in his mouth Kakashi couldn't even decipher. He swallowed thickly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Nick. Hermione looked to her friend in disgust.

Ron answered, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a hat?"

"I have no idea," said the ghost. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table. "And it wants all the Houses to be friends? Fat chance."

"Unity's a good thing," said Kakashi, picking at the food on his plate. "You can't accomplish anything important without teamwork, unless it's meant to be done solo. Teamwork is a necessity."

Then the food disappeared, replaced by desserts instead. A lot was either chocolate, which he was highly allergic to, or ominous looking; he decided not to touch anything.

"Well, that's the attitude," said Nick approvingly. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate Houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."

"Only because you're terrified on him," said Ron.

"Terrified?" said Nick, offended. "I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins—"

"What blood?" Ron blinked rapidly. "Surely you haven't still got—"

The ghost, by this point, was trembling. "It's a figure of speech! I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

Hermione quickly said, "Nick, he wasn't laughing at you!" Ron attempted to say something, but it turned out as gibberish because his mouth was so full again. Hermione, furious, rounded on him. "Well done, Ron."

"What? I'm not allowed to ask a simple questions?"

"Oh forget it."

No matter how awkward the moment was, he saw it as an opening to say, "So, um, the woman up there in pink, she's—"

"Her name's Umbridge," said Harry, which came as a bit of a surprise; he didn't expect them to know. "She works for Fudge. She was at my trial."

Well, that explained it. "I know who she is already," he said, dropping his voice so only the three of them could hear, wishing he could talk to them in private but knowing no way around it. "Listen, I found out yesterday—"

"And you didn't tell us?" whispered Hermione as she and Ron leaned closer to participate in the discussion, argument already forgotten.

"The whole—well, I forgot," he said, knowing they could fill in the rest so he didn't need to blow his pride by saying it. "But anyway, the Ministry sent him."

"Oh my god," said Hermione, horrified. "The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

"How—what do you mean?" said Ron.

"I'm guessing they don't want Harry to Dumbledore to convince anyone that they're telling the truth," he said with a shrug. "I don't know, my knowledge of your politics is limited to those History of Magic textbooks and the complaints everyone had over the summer."

Harry looked faintly sick. "They've already ruined me and Dumbledore with the Prophet, but they still want to do more?"

"I agree!" said Hermione. "The Ministry has done enough damage already and they need to learn how to accept this."

Kakashi shrugged. "Hey, it's their downfall. You guys are prepared. Them? One attack and they'll either go down or come to Dumbledore begging for help. 'Least what it sounds like to me."

Before they could say anything else, the food disappeared and Dumbledore stood up, all sounds silencing abruptly. He smiled and said, "Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all smirked, and Kakashi felt pleasantly aware that he had full and utter permission to break this rule.

Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you that all magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have two changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There were a few applause, but not much. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

Umbridge stood up, though it wasn't noticeable (for she was even shorter than Sprout, who was shorter than Kakashi), causing Dumbledore to stop. She cleared her throat, though came out sounding like Hem, hem. For a moment the old man seemed completely surprised before it disappeared and he sat down, looking at the little woman with great interest. So his client was a good little actor; Kakashi felt immediate respect. That was the face of someone who knew what he was doing.

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Umbridge in a voice that made him want to gag, "for those kind words of welcome. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled widely again. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Um, no one in this place looks happy, ya'know?

Well, yeah, I know. She's just, well…

For god's sake, the woman could at least try not to ooze evilness.

Ooze evilness?

Yeah, 'course.

Whatever. You know, she's perfectly positioned for a long distance assassination.

Kunai to the right temple?

Yeah. Perfect trajectory. I estimate one eighth of a second without chakra help.

She's talking.

I know. Her voice is excruciating. If I can't kill her, I'm at least going to make her miserable.

What're you going to do?

Eh, I haven't thought of that yet. I'll figure out something eventually.

Ha! Almost every student is asleep!

Not Hermione. Or me. Though, well, I'm not listening. Just talking to you.

Oh, what I would've done to hear those words earlier.

Sorry…

Don't worry about it. She's done, and there's a letter in front of you, so I better go.

Letter?

When he looked down at his empty plate, there was, as Obito said, a letter. Kakashi Hatake was written on it in English in handwriting he didn't recognize.

"You were right, Kakashi," said Hermione in a low voice when Umbridge finished. Then she spotted the paper in his hand as he tore open the envelope. "Ooo, what's that?"

He didn't answer, even when Harry and Ron repeated the question. They stood, and he read:

Mr. Hatake—

I regretfully request that you meet me once your fellow dorm mates have fallen asleep to give us a chance to converse in my office. Minerva will be outside your common room entrance to act as your guide.

—Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

"We all fall asleep pretty early the first night," said Harry, voice laced with something he couldn't put his finger on. Jealousy? Bitterness? He didn't know. "Or just wait for everyone to close the curtains."

"Okay," he said as Ron called, "Hey—hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy…"

"I know, but you can't call them midgets…First years!" said Hermione, ignoring her friend. "This way, please!"

"See you later," said Harry as he started to walk away, Kakashi following close behind, planning to commit this route to memory. Of course, that was somewhat difficult since Harry brought him down several secret short cuts to get away from the crowds. Though he could understand it, the movements skewed his ability to make a mental map. "Sorry," said the boy dully. "I just…Well, I should've expected this."

He remembered very violently of the aftermath of his father's failed mission, and all the comments and glares he got, despite being a kid. But he wasn't going to let Harry know that he understood on some level (a picture was being painted in his mind of what happened last year from all the whispering), even if the situations were drastically different. Somewhat. Instead he said, "Hey, at least you're showing me shortcuts, right?" because him staying silent in reply didn't go with the persona he created for himself. He was pretty sure he talked more in one month than he did in his entire life. Because baby babble didn't count.

"I guess." Silence fell, broke by the light sounds of Harry's feet hitting the stone floor. After five minutes or so, he said, "Hey, Kakashi?"

Considering that he had to go a meeting later and he spent most of the feast talking, he didn't want to engage in further conversation. Damn fabricated personality. "Yeah?" he said, rubbing his eye.

"How do you deal with it?"

"Deal with what?"

Harry sighed. "You know…just…well, y'know. Over the summer, all the adults treating you like a kid even when you obviously hate it, or when you see a friend die?"

"What makes you think I saw a friend die?" Don't snap, he reminded himself because he could fell his natural defense trying to push up.

"The boggart," the other boy mumbled. "I couldn't see why they'd just be random people."

Damn. The brat was more perceptive than Kakashi thought. And more inquisitive. Rather than show how fucked up he really was, he answered, "Eh, it's the way I grew up, watching people die, so I'm not exactly the best person to ask. The summer, though? They weren't all that bad, honestly. Snape was just being a bastard, which I've gathered he usually is, Mad-Eye treated me more an I-don't-know-what but definitely not a kid, and Molly acted pretty maternal to everyone, adults included."

You complained about it every ten seconds.

What do you always tell me?

True, true. And I'm offended that you—

Bye.

"Oh," said Harry. "Sorry for asking about your friends. It's just—"

"You saw a boy named Cedric die last year," he cut in. "I know. They're talking about it."

"What else do you hear?"

"Oh, just that you're a lunatic and Dumbledore's losing his touch or something like that." He forced a grin. "But don't worry, I think you're remarkably well behaved for a crazy person. I'll make sure to tell the asylum the straightjacket isn't necessary."

This got Harry to laugh, which was the desired effect. They fell silent again, which was what Kakashi wanted. If only that damn boggart hadn't been there, or if he'd been smart enough to move. Then again, just because Harry made a good guess didn't mean he had to spill all his secrets. He acknowledged about the fourteenth day into the mission that spending ten months with this kid and his friends, forced to show emotion while "playing nice" and not wearing his mask, that they were going to pick up on something—or at least Hermione was. Harry though? Now that he wasn't expecting.

"That's the Gryffindor entrance," Harry said as the neared a moving (of course) portrait of a large woman in a pink dress. "Oh, wait, I don't know the password…"

"No password, no entrance," the painted woman said.

Oh. Joyful.

"Harry, Kakashi, I know it!" said Neville, coming to a stop behind them. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to remember it for once!" He showed them the plant thing again. "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"

"Correct," said the portrait, and it swung open, revealing a comfortable room inside. The three entered, passing Fred and George as they posted something on the bulletin board. Unfortunately Kakashi couldn't read what it said, since it was in the blind spot created by the covered Sharingan.

"Come on, we're over here," said Harry, and added to Neville, "McGonagall set up an extra bed with us."

"Oh, cool," said the forgetful boy.

When they entered the door, Kakashi immediately knew something was wrong. Next to him, Harry tensed, so he knew he wasn't imagining it.

"Hi," said Harry as he, Neville, and Kakashi split off to go for their trunks (or, in Kakashi's case, bag.)

As he pulled out his pajamas out, which were given to him by Molly when she found out he slept in shorts and a t-shirt and still thought English summers were cold, and a roll of bandages, Dean said, "Hey, Harry. Good holiday?"

He ducked behind his bed near, happy it was the closest to the wall, and changed as fast as he could, feeling silly in his too-big, blue tee-shirt and equally too-big, plaid pants that used to belong to George, wondering how he could head off to meet the headmaster in dignity while wearing this. Then, nervously, he untied his forehead protector before rapidly wrapping the bandages in his places. Two years of practice made this easy.

"Not bad," said Harry as he came back around to put his folded his school robes the drawer next to his bed. "You?"

Thankfully, no one laughed at Molly's choice of hand-me-down sleepwear.

"Yeah, it was okay. Better than Seamus' anyway, he was just telling me."

Well, that didn't sound good. Neville asked, "Why, what happened, Seamus?"

After a moment's pause, he answered, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

Mam, he supposed, was another way of saying Mom, or Mum. He decided that dialects were terrible things, especially when it was dialects of a second language.

"What?"

"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts."

"But—why?"

After another long pause, Seamus finally said, "Well, I suppose…because of you."

"What d'you mean?"

Holding in a sigh, Kakashi turned around, wondering if it was a good idea to jump in before this got too heated. He saw Neville's eyes flick to the bandages over the left side of his face, but he, too, was watching what was unfolding and didn't comment.

"Well," Seamus repeated, "she…er…well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too…"

"She believes the Daily Prophet?" said Harry and his voice held a shinobi-level nothingness, which meant the calm before the storm when it came to wizards. "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Then the anger hit, even if it wasn't verbal. Anger was an easily identifiable emotion to Kakashi, who lived more than half his life face to face with angry men on the battlefront. Much more identifiable than comfort or worry. This, at least, he knew how to deal with. Now, all he had to do was adapt to the situation and figure out how Happy Nice Exchange Student would react to this as a distraction.

As he was thinking, mind devoid of his friends, Seamus said, "Look…what did happen that night when…you know, when…with Cedric Diggory and all?"

"What are you asking for?" said Harry right when Kakashi came up with an idea. "Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know."

Kakashi's visible eye went wide and he bit his bottom lip nervously, perfectly timing it with Dean's periodic eye flicks in his direction.

"Don't have a go at my mother," said Seamus.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar."

"You're scaring the new boy!" said Dean, causing both and Seamus to shut up and look in his direction.

Unfortunately, that was right when Ron came in, shooting the distraction to pieces when he asked, "What's going on?"

"He's having a go at my mother!"

Thanks a lot, Ron, was all Kakashi could think, but Dean was still looking at him, so he couldn't drop the nervousness yet.

"What? Harry wouldn't do that—we met your mother, we liked her…"

"That was before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!"

"Oh," said Ron, and Kakashi saw the best friend look kick in (another emotion he could identify because no matter much they argued, he saw the same look on Obito's face whenever some pretentious bastard who still had a problem with his father years later bothered to say something about it—he really should've been nicer before his best friend was just a voice in his head, not angry with the protection). "Oh…right."

"You know what?" said Seamus, rounding on Harry. "I don't want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he's a madman."

"That's out of order," said Ron, ears going red.

"Out of order am I?" Unlike the redhead, he was steadily getting paler. "You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth? And what about you, Hatake?"

Oh, great. He knew he was going to get dragged in at one point.

To his immense relief, Ron said, "Yeah, I do! And leave Kakashi out of this, he hasn't even been here three hours!"

"Then you're mad, too," said Seamus, and Kakashi was too numb with shock to stop it now. He sat on his bed, trying to wrap his mind around what happened, because Ron didn't even give him an option to say anything, instead just going up and defending him even when they only knew each other for less than a month.

Damn wizards and all their smiles and their kindness because this was making his job a lot harder than it needed to be.

"Yeah?" said Ron. "Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect! So unless you want a detention, watch your mouth!" And after a strained quiet fell, he added, "Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?"

With a shrug, Dean answered, "My parents are Muggles, mate. They don't know nothing about no deaths—" Kakashi, whose first language wasn't even English, knew how grammatically incorrect that was. "—at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them."

"You don't know my mother," Seamus said, "she'll weasel anything out of anyone! Anyway, your parents don't get the Daily Prophet, they don't know our headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles—"

Then it was Neville to the rescue. "My gran says that's rubbish," he told them. "She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's canceled our subscription. We believe Harry." He slipped into bed, and looked again to Seamus. "My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back."

No one else said anything, instead climbing into bed. Ron gave him a small smile and nod of goodnight that he returned automatically be sitting fully on his bed and pulling the curtains around him, enclosing him in momentary privacy. He held his wand in one hand, the paper with the other and whispered, "Incendio." It went up in flames for a moment before dwindling to nothingness, the ashes blowing away in the almost nonexistent breeze coming through the window.

While it didn't sound like anyone was asleep, everyone had hidden themselves inside their curtains, which basically meant he could still sneak out. He went through the hand seals quickly, using the jutsu he stole from one of the Iwa-nin in the war that allowed him full camouflage. And considering that these kids couldn't sense chakra, it was as good as invisibility.

Unfortunately, this also meant he didn't have the ability to change without alerting the others that something was up (they were wizards, they probably had an invisibility spell), so he was going to have to attempt to look serious despite the overly large, once-belonged-to-George-Weasley pajamas. It was absolutely mortifying.

As he silently slipped from his bed and left the room, Rin decided to make her reappearance.

You're acting like what Ron did was terrifying.

Yeah, well—

You know what I think, Kakashi-kun?

What?

I think these kids are growing on you.

No they aren't.

Oh, Kakashi, you've always been gifted in denial. Lighten up a little.

They're my mission, I'm nice to then because I have to be. Hokage-sama's orders.

Keep telling yourself that. Now go, talk to the client.

That's what I'm doing. Bye.

Don't sound so miserable! Look at where you are! I'd kill to be there right now!

I'd gladly switch places with—

NO!

Then Rin disappeared and he was left shaking directly inside the common room, a step away from the portrait. After taking a deep breath he released the jutsu and exited, finding Minerva waiting for him, feeling that now automatic smile slipping on his face and wondering what the hell just happened.

.

Albus Dumbledore was an old man. He had done much, and seen much, and learned much. He spent the past ninety years trying to repent for despicable, youthful self, and since then made it his goal to help as many as he could, and stop the spread of men and women with attitudes like the self he left behind. Whether he succeeded or not was debatable in many ways, as he saw himself as a failure in Tom and Gellert and even Harry though many others insisted he was a great man. One thing he did like to believe was that no child was beyond help, even if they walked down the darkest path. And the boy in front of him was no exception.

Hatake Kakashi sat on the other side of the desk, drowning in his blue pajamas, bandages over his injured eye. The boy was nearly fourteen, looked twelve, but had a hundred years of sheer exhausted etched into him. Oh, he was a wonderful actor, as Albus knew after watching him laugh and talk with the other Gryffindors, answering all their questions and falling into a type of familiarity with the Weasley siblings, Harry, and Hermione. And perhaps if he didn't know the boy's history or hadn't seen him stand alone at the back of the Hall, distracted and falling back in at exactly the right moment in a way that made Albus think another problem should be added to the mental issue section of the file, he might have believed that act. Just like if he hadn't seen that interaction, he might be inclined to think the child simply one slipping into insanity, coldhearted and the perfect killer like he was supposed to be. But there was something there, a sort of hope hidden within the hopelessness that defined this young shinobi that made Albus believe a longing from childhood was still in there, buried deep, deep inside.

He read his file, of course. Mother dead at childbirth, Father dead by suicide at seven, first teammate dead at eleven, second teammate and his teacher dead less than a year ago. The file said that his left eye was severely damaged the same day his first teammate died, which Albus imagined didn't much help his mental health, as the depth perception adjustment must have been terrible after that experience. Now, thirteen and one of the most skilled shinobi the fine village of Konohagakure had to offer, with Fire Country's equivalent to Voldemort trying to hunt him down. On the surface, the documentation of impressive: youngest academy student, youngest genin, youngest chuunin, youngest jounin, youngest ANBU—more successful missions completed than most adults. Hiruzen called him a the greatest prodigy he had ever seen, but Albus saw something much, much different.

Hatake Kakashi, boy genius, was a failure.

Ever since he met his dear friend all those years ago, he was forced to acknowledge that though Albus disproved of the brutality and sheer cruelty of the shinobi way, it was how life was lived on the Hidden Continent. But regardless, everyone deserved a childhood, a period of time to make friends and learn to each other, to play games and laugh. Growing up without that created the person in front of him: an emotionally-stunted child whose coping method was repression and left him a little off in the head. Hiruzen told him that he had only weak recollections of the incident that forced him here, and Albus didn't want to witness the meltdown that inevitably followed the return of memory.

And he dearly hoped he could give this boy one year to live a childhood he never had.

"I hope you can excuse the lateness of the hour, Mr. Hatake," he said, looked at him over his fingertips. "I am your client, Albus Dumbledore. A pleasure to meet you at last."

"Nice to meet you, too. I'm a natural insomniac," the boy answered, "and just Kakashi is fine, sir."

He nodded, gathering his thoughts so they could discuss the mission at hand. "Minerva and the other Order members have informed you've gone remarkably far in your lessons. Up to seventh year, correct?" He nodded, and Albus decided it was not a good idea to mention that he also hear multiple complaints from Alastor about the boggart situation. "Absolutely commendable. Now, I assume you know our situation here."

"Yes, I understand it very well, sir," answered Kakashi. "Schoolchildren are not particularly versed in keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves."

With a chuckle, he said, "True, true. Your mission, as your Hokage and the Order have told you, is to protect the school, and specifically Harry and those closest to him. Originally, I planned to have this be physical protection. But with Dolores here…"

"Understood, sir." There was a veiled look of satisfaction on the boy's face that both scared and comforted Albus; it tainted the predominately innocent expression usually worn by the child, but it also meant he was going to take this job very, very seriously. "I will not kill or harm her unless absolutely necessary, as it will make your life and the future of this school needlessly complicated—or more so than they already are—but I will protect Harry from any damage she will attempt to inflict on him. Also, I will strongly delay her takeover of Hogwarts as much as I can while still keeping my created persona, as you do not want me to break my cover unless unavoidable. But if I must, I will break my cover in order to complete my overall mission of this school's protection, and specifically Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys, his closest associates."

Merlin, Hiruzen wasn't lying when he said the boy could learn an entire language so quickly. Under a month and Mr. Ha—Kakashi already mastered English enough to deliver a mission understanding with the grace of native speaking professional.

"Exactly," said Albus, inclining his head in agreement. "I predict that she will, inevitably, succeed in Cornelius Fudge's goal to gain control over the school, but let it be known now that that will be only temporary. My concern is not for myself, but for the safety and continuous educating of my students. But if and when that happens, Harry will attempt something reckless, that I can guarantee. If there is no way around it, help and protect through your assistance, but please try first to stop it."

"Of course, sir," he said, and Albus had no doubt in his mind that this boy would make many excellent judgment calls, despite the potential deterioration of his mind. "Anything else?"

"Yes," he answered. "I want you to know that if the mark on your neck starts to bother you, you can come to me. Your Hokage informed me in his last letter that he would have your doctor Tsunade discover solutions to any possible problem she can foresee. Is it hurting you?"

One of his fingers twitched, but no emotion passed over his face as he said, "No, sir. It hasn't bothered me since I came to England. Jiraiya-san sealed it up."

"Good to hear." He smiled benignly, though he was unsure whether or not Kakashi was telling the truth. Skilled shinobi were much too good liars. "Now, as I would like you to rest for tomorrow, you are dismissed."

The boy stood and bowed, looking silly in his sleepwear but still managing to hold himself with dignity; it was difficult to remember that this child could kill him in over a thousand different ways. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Kakashi," Albus answered as he turned to walk away. Then, when his hand was on the doorknob, he added, "Oh, and I've given the house-elves in the kitchens recipes for foods you commonly eat in Konoha. They will not appear on the table in the Hall, but I'm sure the original owner of you pajamas would be happy to show you where you can get it."

"Thank you, sir," he said, voice perfectly serious.

And for the sake of Kakashi's pride, Albus would pretend he didn't see that broad smile on his face as he left.

.

Whelp, I don't know why I had it end in PJs, or why I insinuate suicidal tendencies. Shit happens when you're writing an essay on sexual abuse in Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres and it's parallel in King Lear, I guess.