Okay, so, my Harry/Sae fic ideas are being difficult. But as I have just started playing the Futaba arc in Persona 5, I thought I could risk starting a story featuring a Harry/Futaba pairing.
I did consider a number of avenues for this, including my perennial favourite trope of a VATDP Harry, but then, I realised something. I had written a story idea that could work very well with this.
Some of you may remember my attempt at a Sword Art Online crossover, Stranger in Strange Lands. As promising as it was, I was wary of having Harry end up in Aincrad, especially as writing even an abridged version (not THAT kind of Abridged, amusing as it would be to take a leaf from Something Witty Entertainment) of his misadventures of Aincrad did not appeal to me. But I realised, with some tinkering, that the initial idea would work very well with a Persona 5 crossover, especially one that paired Harry with one of the main characters, who are in their teens.
Now, the first part of this chapter will feel very familiar to those who have read the prologue to Stranger in Strange Lands. Don't worry, there's changes later on, and the next chapter is mostly rewritten. I'm posting both at the same time.
Before I go on, though, I feel I should answer one of my frequent guest reviewers, WearyCurmudgeon. I have one major refutation to your argument about Mahoutokoro. Since where did it claim that no graduates ever turned to dark arts? There's a character in Potterverse canon (albeit of dubious canonicity) who was formerly of Mahoutokoro, and while he was presumably expelled, that still puts a stain on the reputation of that school. This is Kazuhiro Shiratori from Hogwarts Mystery. From the same game, we have Dai Rusaki, a Dark Wizard who was a professor at the school at the time.
If the claims of Mahoutokoro having no graduates turning Dark is supposedly from a canon source, then even without the characters from Hogwarts Mystery, I would consider a claim with the scepticism due to any claim involving the Wizarding World. I personally think that, in many regards, Magical Japan is as hidebound if not worse than Magical Britain or MACUSA, regardless on any hypothetical stances against creatures. Besides, Merlin is revered in Britain, and most mythical sources claim he was a Cambion or half-devil, not unlike Abe-no-Seimei. It would potentially be something some people would find it convenient to ignore.
Anyway, mini-rant over. Onto the chapter...
PICARESQUE MAGIC
CHAPTER 1:
MAROONED IN TIME
Have you ever felt your world crumble all around you? On all sides, above you, and beneath your feet? Of course, this is metaphorical, but it doesn't make it any more devastating. Psyches have been destroyed in this manner quite often, after all.
Harry Potter thought he knew what such a thing felt like. In truth, he was naïve. The trials and travails he had gone through in his years at Hogwarts paled by comparison. Even that brouhaha in Second Year, when half of the school thought he was the next Dark Lord, or the Fourth Year, when everyone thought he was a cheater, was nothing compared to this. Who knew a stray spell hitting the Portkey would lead to this?
"If it's any consolation, Mr Potter…" began the older dark-skinned man who had introduced himself as Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic, but Harry interrupted him.
"It's not. Nothing you could say is going to be any consolation. You've already told me what happened, though not after the thugs you seem to be hiring now beat the crap out of me, first for allegedly imitating me, and then, for not being there to fight Voldemort," Harry growled, his emerald eyes flicking up to meet Shacklebolt's own. "Two of whom I knew at Hogwarts, I should add. I didn't expect any better from Finch-Fletchley, he loved smearing my name. So much for Hufflepuff loyalty. But what did I ever do to Finnegan?"
"A lot has happened in a decade," Shacklebolt said.
"Actually, given how Sirius was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, I'd say nothing has changed for the better," Harry retorted bitterly. The bruises and broken ribs had been healed, but the shock, and the anger and bitterness that followed, couldn't be. "I mean, assuming this isn't some delusion curse Voldemort forced on me in the graveyard."
"The same could be said about us seeing you. You went missing, as did Cedric Diggory, for so long. The Unspeakables are having a field day, trying to discern how it happened. However, Goblin inheritance potions don't lie, and we've had you undergo the test. Welcome back, Harry Potter."
"Funny. I don't feel very welcome. I feel like a prisoner. Have done ever since I was attacked by your bully-boys in Hogsmeade without any warning."
"Not mine anymore. I haven't been head of the DMLE for years."
A scoff escaped Harry's lips. "You're the Minister of Magic. As far as I'm concerned, they're yours. So, why am I still here?"
"…As it happens, I considered who would be best to discuss living arrangements with you. I told you I was once a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but when Dumbledore revealed what your living arrangements were…I was unhappy, to say the least, as were many of the others. So I thought you'd appreciate having some say, and with someone you trust, regarding your living arrangements. As it happens, she's over from Japan, speaking with Headmistress McGonagall at Hogwarts. She wanted to come over straight away when she heard the news, but I wanted to speak with you first. Besides, she's probably one of the few people who went to Hogwarts with you who wouldn't start a fight with you."
"I was travelling through time, for God's sake!"
"And we were living through war. I'm not saying it is right to blame you, but many believed you dead, or fleeing. Voldemort and his cronies took great delight in claiming you fled like a coward, and it stuck in the minds of many. And many lost their family during the war. You're an easy scapegoat to pin blame on. I'm sorry."
"Are you? Are you really?" Harry muttered bitterly.
"I am, yes. I can't speak for really anyone else in Magical Britain, barring a few."
Harry lapsed into sullen, bitter silence. As homecomings were, it could have been better. Much better. He wasn't expecting to return a conquering hero, true, but he didn't expect to be treated like a criminal. He'd gotten out of that graveyard by the skin of his teeth, having barely survived his duel with Voldemort, and by sheer luck than by any real skill. He'd noticed the spell hitting the Portkey, but hadn't thought much of it, what with focusing on escaping more than anything else. He was surprised to end up in Hogsmeade, with the body of Cedric Diggory in tow, with Hogsmeade somewhat changed. He happened to surprise some Aurors, who soon Stunned him, and took him to the DMLE.
That had been the beginning of the nightmare. A nightmare where faces he had known, now older, sneered at him and beat him. It wasn't until Shacklebolt came along that he got any kind of respite…at least from the physical attacks. But not from the horror he was beginning to grasp.
The year was 2015. He was a decade into the future. And Voldemort had nearly won.
Harry was still finding it hard to grasp. Some part of him was hoping, beyond all hope, that this was some curse Voldemort had inflicted on him, filling his head with hallucinations, a delusional nightmare. Unfortunately, it was a very tenacious nightmare. So too was the despair creeping up on him, and the anger.
Leaving aside the fact that he had not been there to help stop Voldemort, he wasn't there to save those people. Half of the Weasleys were wiped out, and the remainder had left for France. Remus and Sirius perished too, as had Dumbledore. Others had lost so much, and many blamed Harry for it. Then again, given what he endured from Rita Skeeter and the students at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, what could he expect?
The images sounded nightmarish, too, like something out of tales of World War II and the Holocaust. The Statute was only just barely preserved, but it was a near thing. The cost was high, too high, and Shacklebolt's reassurances that this wasn't his fault did sod-all. The guilt clung to him viciously, like an oversized tick, draining him of his self-assurance. No, it felt like a Dementor was in the room with him, as if he'd never feel happy ever again.
His thoughts were interrupted when a buzzer came from the intercom. "Minister?" asked the secretary. "Headmistress McGonagall and Dr Watson are here."
"Thanks. Send them in, please."
"I don't know a Dr Watson," Harry said, voicing his bemused thoughts.
"That's her assumed name," Shacklebolt said, looking altogether too amused. "After all was said and done, she had little left for her here. She eventually left for Japan under an assumed name."
Harry opened his mouth to demand he stop talking in riddles, but the door opened behind him. He turned in his seat…only to stop, and stare. The older of the two women was, well, VERY old. He recognised those pinched and stern features anywhere, even if they were currently staring at him in disbelief and shock. Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts…only, if what the secretary said was true, she was actually the Headmistress now.
The younger of the two women…well, it took a moment for him to recognise her. The bushy hair, the dark brown eyes…he recognised those. But the features were those of an adult, and careworn, her frame taller. Emotions were warring on that face that was so maddeningly familiar, and yet so different. "…Harry?" she whispered.
"…Hermione?" Harry asked incredulously.
Hermione looked at Shacklebolt, who nodded. "It's him. Inheritance Potion confirmed it."
Harry bit back a stupid impulse to say something like, You got old, Hermione. It would be rude, after all, not just in general, but well, discussing a woman's age like that wouldn't work out. Besides, she was only in her twenties, not that much older. Instead, he stood, and hugged his now-older friend. Bitterness and despair was replaced by some small relief, that she at least survived, and wasn't out to attack him. Then, words began spilling from his lips, like water from a spigot. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I'm sorry, I…"
"…Don't be." With two softly spoken words, Hermione put a stopper in the stream of guilty words that was gushing from him.
"Exactly, Mr Potter," McGonagall said, her voice still strong despite her advanced years. "I am sure that if you were able to come to us in our time of need, you would have, what happened during the Tri-Wizard Tournament notwithstanding. However, I must apologise. I should have done more, but Dumbledore…let's just say that he made many mistakes and bad decisions, and one of his greatest talents was having people go along with them."
Shacklebolt nodded solemnly. "We survived, though. Minerva, I have checked. There's nothing left in the scar."
"…Thank Merlin for that. I'm sorry you've come back to us too late, Harry. But…you should be able to resume your life. Though I daresay living in Britain will be…difficult."
Hermione nodded. "A lot of people blame you for not being there. Some thought you were dead, and others thought you'd fled after the battle against Voldemort. He encouraged that view, he and his followers. Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore. After all was said and done, I completed my education, and went to Japan."
"Why Japan?" Harry asked.
"I did a thesis on certain subjects, and it caught the eye of a researcher there," Hermione said. "And to tell the truth…there's nothing left for me here. Just memories, mostly bad ones. And Muggleborns are still treated with contempt."
"And what about your parents, Hermione?"
Hermione looked down at her feet. "…To protect them, I was forced to Obliviate them and send them to Australia. Once Voldemort was dead, I went to retrieve them…but they refused to have anything to do with me. I…" Her voice caught in her throat. "I could understand why, but…they disowned me Harry. Because I tried to protect them, even though our relationship had become strained, and…sorry, it's a long and painful story, and I'd rather not tell it here."
"Indeed. While your actions were foolish, Hermione, you did so out of love, and I expected better of them," McGonagall said solemnly. "You have proved yourself to be of much higher moral calibre than they have."
Hermione nodded morosely, before she looked to Harry. "Harry…once I heard, I came to see you, to offer you a chance to live with me, to get used to a new time. I thought you'd appreciate a friendly face doing so. I mean, if you want to. Andromeda Tonks has offered to be your guardian, and…"
"Hermione," Harry said, cutting off what would probably prove to be one of her breathless ramblings. As she looked at him, he said, with a weary smile, "All you needed to do was ask. I trust you."
After a moment, she gave him a tired smile herself. "Thanks, Harry."
Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "I'm arranging the necessary identification. You'll need to go by another name officially, Mr Potter. We'll work something out between us. Once that is settled, you're free to go with Hermione."
"Just be warned, Harry, I do have some adoptive children already," Hermione said. "Two daughters. One of the reasons I had to leave Britain was that one of them…was Voldemort's daughter." As his gaze snapped to her, she said, "Delphi's a good girl, Harry! Believe me, I had to deal with so much idiocy here when I adopted her! And she's only seven years old!"
"Since when did Voldemort have a bloody daughter?!" Harry yelped.
"Since a couple of years after he broke Bellatrix Lestrange out of Azkaban," Shacklebolt observed. "Mr Potter, Delphini seems to be almost the complete antithesis of her parents. The only thing she inherited from them was magical power, a short temper, and a keen mind. Thanks to the gutter press, she is, unfortunately, aware of her heritage, but she is coming to terms with it. She is not Voldemort, Harry, nor is she Bellatrix Lestrange. Unfortunately, too many can't see the difference."
Changing tack, Harry asked, "And the other daughter?"
After a moment, Hermione pulled out a small oblong of metal and plastic. On his puzzled look, she said, "Oh, right, you disappeared before the iPhone was released."
"iPhone? That's a mobile phone?" Harry asked in astonishment.
"A smartphone, specifically," Hermione said, tapping away on the device. "Made by Apple." She then showed him the screen, some sort of touchscreen he gathered. And on the screen was some kind of photo. "Here we are, with a friend, the owner of this café, Sojiro Sakura."
It showed a quartet of people in front of a small café, with the name Leblanc written on the signage. A middle-aged Japanese man with a goatee was standing in front of it wearing a fedora, standing near Hermione and two girls. He guessed that the younger of the two, with the short silvery hair with blue fringe was Delphi. And God, he would not have picked who her parents were. He'd seen Bellatrix Lestrange briefly in Dumbledore's Pensieve, and he saw nothing of the madness or malice of either in Delphi's features. She had a cheeky grin, but that was it.
The other girl seemed to be about his age, or maybe a little younger, her expression shy. Long orange hair framed a cute face, her eyes peering out from behind glasses. A pair of headphones were hung around her neck. Definitely not a Weasley, given the Oriental features.
"This is my other daughter, Futaba Isshiki," Hermione said. "And I'm sure both of them would be pleased to meet you…"
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
And on that bombshell, goodnight!
No numbered annotations this time.