Not much to say here. I mean, other than you'll probably have to wait quite a while before this becomes a full fic, assuming it does. And I really do hope I'm getting Futaba down. I've done her Palace now, along with the first couple of parts to her Confidant, but I'm trying to make her a little different to her canon self, but not too OOC. I'm sort of making her braver online or via telephone, but not so much in person. That being said, this isn't just going to be a simple 'drop Harry into the middle of Persona 5' story. I do have some interesting plans for how the Potterverse has ties to the Persona-verse. Most of them are small references, but there's a fairly large one involving one of the iconic characters of the Potterverse.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy...


40 THIEVES? I JUST NEED ONE WIZARD (ORIGINAL)

CHAPTER 2:

ALIBABA AND HER WIZARD

There was a moment of silence, before Futaba tilted her head. It was so adorable, the way she did that. "Uhhh, what?"

Harry sighed as he set the iPhone on the bench, propping it up against a jar of biscuits. This was going to take quite some time to explain, he knew it. He had been sipping at the tea cup throughout his conversation with Sojiro, so he moved the cup in front of the iPhone, and carefully pulled out his replacement wand, to replace the one those bastards at the Ministry snapped. As he did so, he studied his audience.

He'd seen Futaba in a couple of photos they exchanged, even using Facetime before when they could. Her cute features were framed by long, orange hair, her dark eyes peering from behind huge glasses. She seemed to have a strangely shy and yet impish demeanour to her, heightened by the earphones around her neck and the T-shirt she wore, showing the periodic table.

Sojiro, on the other hand, was at least middle-aged if not older, his dark hair slicked back, while having a goatee beard, sans moustache. He too wore glasses, and had a weary, sardonic demeanour. However, he seemed on-edge, and understandably so. Sojiro did treat Futaba like his own daughter.

With a wave of the wand, the cup transformed into a miniature version of Rodin's The Thinker. Sojiro and Futaba's eyes widened to the size of the saucer the cup once stood on. "What the…?!" Futaba yelped.

After a moment, Sojiro picked up the miniature statue, checking it, before placing it back in front of the iPhone. "Futaba…it's real. Well, it's solid. He just turned a teacup into a statuette."

Futaba stared. "…Oh crap, are we in the Matrix? Did I take a red pill while I wasn't paying attention?" She blinked. "Please tell me I'm the newest iteration of The One. I'm not exactly Keanu Reeves, but…"

"Futaba, you're not in the Matrix, as far as I know. That…was magic."

"What about the Nasuverse, then? Is Clock Tower going to be on your case if you've shown magecraft to us? Ooh! Can you summon up a Servant?"

Harry sighed. This, he did understand, as Futaba had recommended Fate/Stay Night to him, the anime show. "Not quite, and no. Though I wish I could have had Saber by my side recently. Futaba, Sojiro, what I told you about my life wasn't a lie. I just withheld certain facts from you. The wizards take keeping magic secret seriously. I probably broke more than a few laws to tell you two, but I felt both of you were owed an explanation. The man who murdered my parents was technically a terrorist, but he was also a warlock known to most as Lord Voldemort…"


Futaba Sakura, formerly Futaba Isshiki, once known and feared as the hacktivist Medjed, now feared as Alibaba, stared at the screen of her iPad. She was already open to the idea of what many would consider occult abilities in the world: knowing what admittedly little she did of her mother's cognitive psience research had laid the groundwork, and she had also heard rumours around the Tatsumi Port Island incidents back in 2009, and the Inaba serial murders in 2011. Those two incidents had the stink of the paranormal, and her mother had certainly studied them.

But to see honest-to-God magic being performed, live via iPhone…and in front of Sojiro. If she had been fooled, then so had Sojiro. True, there was a brief glitch in the camera as it happened, coupled with a brief burst of static from the audio bugs still feeding to her headphones, but even then, she saw it changing shape.

Already, one part of her mind, the detached, clinical part, was analysing what had happened. Somehow, the entire structure of the teacup had changed in an instant. Another part was staring blankly in shock at her paradigm being changed. And yet another part was dancing a jig and cheering. Magic existed in the world! And outside of cognitive worlds!

Still, she listened to Harry's story, and it had a sobering effect. His parents were murdered when he was young, and he was sent to live with shitty relatives. Well, she knew that already, but she hoped the Dursleys treated him nowhere near as badly as her own had. Even now, what her 'Uncle' Youji had done to her still haunted her, and she calmed herself with an effort at the reminder. She didn't need to start hearing her mother's voice berating her for her sins.

The school he went to in Scotland was a boarding school for wizards and witches, with the funny title of Hogwarts. Still, while not quite as nasty as the Nasuverse, Magical Britain was filled with snobbery and racism. Hell, you could be looked down upon if your parents didn't have magic.

Anyway, apparently, there was a famous kid called Neville Longbottom, or the Boy Who Lived. He had miraculously survived an instant death curse when Voldemort tried to have Neville murdered alongside Harry in their cribs. He had also become some arrogant blowhard with a fragile ego, one Harry tried to avoid.

There were more than a few misadventures during Harry's time at Hogwarts, but two big incidents sprang to mind. Firstly, his godfather, falsely accused of mass murder, escaped a hellish wizarding prison. They hadn't recaptured the real culprit, some literal rat-man called Peter Pettigrew, so the godfather, Sirius Black, had to go on the run.

Secondly, Neville Longbottom got entered into some uber-dangerous magical tournament, though by the sound of it, it sounded tamer than the Holy Grail War from Fate/Stay Night. But at the end of it, Neville and some other guy got kidnapped. Some other guy, an impostor of one of their teachers, claimed that Harry was being influenced by some soul container thing in his scar, a fragment of the soul of Voldemort. Harry was promptly sent off to Azkaban without more than a token hearing, and suffered from the guards there, soul-sucking demons that were basically the living embodiment of chronic depression.

That being said, Harry did have some supporters, including his headmaster, who arranged for the soul fragment thing to be removed after being told it was possible. It nearly killed Harry, but he survived, and he decided to tell Magical Britain "STFU & GTFO!" Honestly, Futaba couldn't blame him if he was telling the truth.

Apparently, Harry was taking a huge risk in revealing magic to them. He wasn't supposed to by law, due to some secrecy thing, and if people without magic learned, they'd get their memories erased, Men in Black-style. The fact that he revealed it to her anyway gave her feelings that she wasn't sure about.

Then again, she took a huge leap of faith, deciding to beg Sojiro to let her talk to him, face-to-face. She rarely did it with Sojiro, though at least she tried to do that IRL. To speak with anyone like this since her mother died was an effort.

But Harry had been one of the few friends she had made that she knew beyond an online handle. They had exchanged pictures once he managed to get a smartphone. Hell, they even chatted on Facetime a couple of times, though most of their communication was via email.

Still, when he broke off communication, Futaba had wondered whether he had tired of her. They did live in other countries, after all, and she could be pretty bratty and self-centred. It was why her mother…no, stop thinking about that.

Sojiro was too kind to her, better than she deserved. And given what Harry had done…so was he. She didn't deserve this kindness, another treasure for the tomb she was resigned to die in. But…it didn't mean she wasn't going to take it. Her last Christmas had been one of the worst in her life, even if Sojiro had adopted her by then. But this one was already looking better.

"So, what next?" Sojiro asked.

"I'm living in a house on the outskirts of Tokyo. I can't go to Mahoutokoro for another year. Leaving aside that my Japanese is crap, and they're leery of European students, there's also the fact that I'm technically a convicted criminal, even if I've been exonerated. In other words, bureaucratic BS."

"Figures," Sojiro said.

"I'm getting homeschooled by Remus," Harry added. "Both in magic and mundane classes. He wants me able to pass my O-Levels and A-Levels back home, in case the idiots there actually get their act together and change for the better. I'm not holding my breath, though, I'll die of asphyxiation."

Futaba giggled, despite herself. "Yeah, I'm the same, as you know, Harry, though for different reasons. I'm sorry I can't be there, but…"

"You feel safest in your room, right?" Harry asked, those beautiful emerald eyes filled with understanding.

Futaba nodded. "I…sorry. I know you were probably looking forward to this, but…I…" Fuck, she hated this. Charisma was definitely her dump stat in life. Wish she could re-roll this…


Harry watched as Futaba struggled to get the words out. Eventually, he said, "Look, I can leave the present with Sojiro if you want, and he can bring it to you. Or if you two are okay with it, I can bring it to you myself."

As Futaba froze, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face, Sojiro frowned. "I'm not sure about allowing you into my home. Futaba might know you, but I have only just met you. You seem to be a good lad, but appearances can be deceiving, and…"

"Bring it here, please."

"Futaba, if you're feeling uncomfortable, then I can bring it in myself," Sojiro said quietly. "I…"

"…Actually, bring him. Please, Sojiro. I…I need to know that he's real."

After a moment, Sojiro sighed. "Okay, Futaba." But he then turned an impressive glare at Harry. "But no funny business, or I'll toss you out, magic or no magic!"

"Got it…"


Harry was led to Sojiro's house, not far from Leblanc. Futaba had told him once that Sojiro had named the café after Maurice Leblanc, the author of the Arsène Lupin books, about the misadventures of a gentleman thief. The older man seemed reluctant, sending glares back at Harry, grumbling all the while, before they entered the house.

Futaba's room upstairs had a 'PRIVATE: DO NOT ENTER' sign on it, along with what looked like barrier tape fixed to it. Harry went over to it, and gently rapped on it, albeit provoking a quiet squeak from within. "Futaba?" he asked gently. He didn't want to push too hard. He still had a lot of anger beneath the surface from what happened in Magical Britain, and Futaba deserved not a single ounce of it. "I'm here."

After a moment, he heard her softly say, "…I'm sorry, I can't…"

Sojiro sighed. "…Never mind. Look, just leave it with me, I…"

"No, I have one other thing." He turned to the door. "Futaba, this door is locked, isn't it?"

"…Uh-huh."

Harry took out his wand, but looked at Sojiro, even as he spoke to Futaba. "I can unlock the door with a spell. I won't do it unless you want me to. Otherwise, I will leave the present with Sojiro. I know you've been through a lot, I know you find it hard to get through the day." His voice caught in his throat. "I…I struggle myself, ever since Azkaban. It's the nearest thing to Hell on Earth. But…I want to see the smile on your face, not just through a screen, Futaba. I want to see one of my friends, face to face."

There was a long silence. After a moment, Harry sighed, and began to proffer the bag to Sojiro, only to hear Futaba say, quietly, "Go ahead."

Harry kept his gaze on Sojiro, making sure the man was watching, before he said, "Alohamora."

The door to Futaba's room gently swung inwards with a click. A gasp from inside, and then, Futaba's face was peering anxiously through the gap. "…Hi," Harry said.

"…Hey," Futaba replied, looking nervous, not quite making eye contact with him. "Uhhh…this is virtually From Software hard, only with no respawns." On his confused look, she said, "Uhh, Dark Souls? Bloodborne?"

"…I haven't really played any video games, remember? Though honestly, I'm dreading to think what those games are like." He handed the bag to her. "Merry Christmas, Futaba."

Eventually, she took it. "…Thank you," she said with a small smile, before closing the door behind her.

Sojiro sighed. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. She told me she's got a strong case of Asperger's Syndrome or something similar, along with an eidetic memory, and what happened to Wakaba only made things worse," Harry said quietly, clenching a fist at the thought. "I just want to make her happy."

"…Harry, honestly, you've done better than I have. I think those emails of yours have been what kept her from withdrawing completely," Sojiro said, leading him away from Futaba's room. "She won't leave the house, but sometimes, she leaves the room while I'm here. We don't talk much face to face, she usually speaks to me more by phone, but just being able to see her face to face is better than nothing."

"What about therapists?"

"I've tried some, but it didn't go well," Sojiro said. "Admittedly, the ones I tried didn't work well with a girl traumatised by what happened to her mother, and I'm worried that any others won't be sensitive. Not to mention that she won't speak to them in person. And Japan doesn't have the best of attitudes to mental health."

Harry, personally, felt that Sojiro could have tried harder. Harry had certainly done what he could to try and persuade Futaba that her mother may not have committed suicide, even if he failed. There was something about the whole thing that stank, what with the officials reading out Wakaba's suicide note, to a traumatised, bereaved child.

But Sojiro was at least trying to help Futaba, unlike those relatives she was bounced around. One day, Harry was going to track down Youji Isshiki, her uncle, and prank him within an inch of his life, Muggle-baiting laws be damned! He'd have done it to the Dursleys before he left as one last fuck you, but he was already on thin enough ice in Britain already.

Before he could dwell on it, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He answered it, unfamiliar with the number, so he didn't activate Facetime like it wanted him to. "Hello?"

"…Hi," Futaba said.

Harry blinked. "Futaba? Sorry, I didn't give you my number."

"You didn't have to. You're currently in the house's Wi-Fi network, even if you're not actually connected to it. It's complicated to explain, but I'm able to call your phone while it's in the vicinity, and I'm figuring out other stuff now. Remember, I'm good with computers and hacking. Apple may tout the iPhone as unhackable, but that's for a given value of unhackable. I can do more, add my contact to your phone, but…well, it's like with you bringing me the present to my room. I won't do it if you don't want me to."

"…If you can do it, go ahead. Or just send me a text message."

"Meh, that's no fun. Just log into the house's Wi-Fi network. I'll do the rest. It'll take a few minutes. I'll also close up a few backdoors for you on your phone, gratis." She read out the network key for the Wi-Fi, with Harry logging in and placing the phone on a table.

Normally, he wouldn't trust someone so much. But Futaba had, in the end, been his oldest friend, older than even Hermione or Luna or the Weasley Twins. He knew about her hacking ability to some degree, so he trusted her.

After some minutes, the phone vibrated, and Futaba's voice came out, on speakerphone. "Okay, done. I'll leave my admin privileges on, just in case you need tech support. Probably torpedoed the warranty, but meh."

"Apple should probably hire you to do white-hat hacking," Harry mused. "I mean, that's what they call doing it to help plug security flaws, right?"

"Yeah, but I doubt they'd take a hikikomori teenager that seriously. Besides, I'm not sure I'd want to work for a big company or the government after…what happened."

"Same here," Harry said. "Anyway, Futaba…it was good to finally meet you in person. And it was good to meet you, Sojiro. We'll stay in touch, okay?"

"As long as there's no funny business," Sojiro said, his eyes having an unmistakeable warning.

"Define 'funny business', Sojiro," Futaba said. "The only thing NSFW will be the language. I think we may need to vent to each other about life crapping on us from a great height."

"…Just mind your language a little, Futaba," Sojiro said quietly, and resignedly.


Harry went home in higher spirits than he had come to Leblanc in. And Futaba, despite everything, felt happy. A bond that had been fraying had become renewed.

True, both of them had their issues, enough to be considered more of a subscription. Harry was boiling with anger towards the world and its authorities just beneath the surface. And Futaba was filled with self-loathing. Both had been screwed over by the malice of adults and children alike.

Yet a bond had been renewed. And with that, and others, a rigged game that was soon to be played would be changed…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. Harry and Futaba have met in person for the first time.

Given how she acts in the game, I think Futaba acts more confidently online or via phone calls, but in person is another matter. Plus, because it's Harry, probably her only non-online friend after what happened with Kana, she's a bit more eager to reconnect.

Also, note the references to Persona 3 and Persona 4.

No numbered annotations this time.