Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ichigo looked up at the ceiling as light flooded through his window, numb. It had been a long year and barely anything had improved.

Shiro? Are you there?

He sighed when he didn’t get a response. He hadn’t been expecting one of course, but hope hadn’t left yet. Get up you idiot, He told himself, his voice mentally sounding like the hollow. The saffron-haired teen chuckled, forcing himself up and out of bed.

“Ichi-Nii! Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning Yuzu.” he planted a kiss on his sister’s head as he grabbed a piece of toast. “Is Karin at practice?”

“Mmhm!” she smiled sweetly, “you know Ichi-Nii, you should really visit Getaboushi-san! He misses you and so does Yoruichi-san!”

“So ka…” I miss them too.. It had been a long time since the teen visited the shop. He was too hurt, and exposure to anything that had to do with the soul society was too painful. Truthfully, he missed his mentors far more than he was willing to admit. Kisuke and Yoruichi had quickly become not just his sensei, but parental figures as well. The goddess of flash’s teasing, the mad scientist’s risky but dependable methods. The way they both always knew how to say the right thing. He even missed Benihime. Once he had realized how to recognize her reishi, he could always feel the red lady’s presence.

“Oh...gomene. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No! Its okay Yuzu! Is Goat face working?”

“Hai. if you want to help out, you know he’ll always appreciate your presence.”

“I know. I’m heading out okay? Make sure to stay safe, and tell Kisuke I say hi.”

“Okay! Have fun Ichi-Nii!”

Ichigo sighed. Again. He’d been doing that a lot, but then again, being powerless for over a year tended to do that to a person.

The teen ran down the streets of Karakura, eventually climbing up the side of an old building and sitting atop it in Jinzen. He rested his hands together, relaxing as the wind ruffled through his long hair. He liked it long, a reminder of the parts of his soul which he couldn’t feel.

Hands clutching at his hair, tearing, tears down his face, frantic screaming, clawing at his face in hope that a mask would appear, grabbing above his shoulder, jumping through windows just to feel something . But nobody had noticed. And why would they? Chad, Uryu, Orihime, everyone! They stopped talking the second he would step into the room, determining that it would hurt him less if he wasn’t involved at all. But it hurt more. So much more.

Heights helped. Heights and fights and bruises and that satisfaction when he won. He knew part of it was Shiro, Zangetsu, him. Because he was still Ichigo. Still himself. Even if he’d been stripped of everything that made him him. It hurt, it always hurt, to search and search and search and not be able to feel his zanpakuto. He missed the old man more than he thought he would; he and Shiro knew him better than anyone else and he could confide in them. Even when the snarky bastard was trying to take control, he still understood. The wind fluttered around him, caressing the aching former substitute Shinigami.

Why am I like this…

Warm arms pulled him into a hug. “Oh Ichigo..”

A dark green Haori was settled upon his shoulders as it's owner picked the teen up, cradling him in his arms.

“Geta-Boushi..?” he mumbled, clutching at the fabric desperately.

“Hai.” The scientist regarded him with unusually serious eyes. He had seen the toll the last year had put on the teen. The loss of his powers, while unintentional on the part of his friends, had alienated him and left him alone. Walking by the river, he’d spotted the teen and knew he had to intervene. There had been far too many instances of the behavior. “I’m bringing you to the shouten, Kurosaki-san. Is that alright?”

“Even if it wasn’t, you’d still take me, ya crafty bastard.” He muttered.

Benihime.. Kisuke reached out to his zanpakuto, what do we do?

Kisuke, lust for fighting, the need for adventure, it’s as prominent in him as it is in us. You just got that notification, did you not? Knock him back on his feet. Give him a job, a reason to live again. Perhaps you’ll finish your project in the meantime. You must take advantage of it. opportunities are like sakura blossoms, they only last so long before they fall to the ground.

Kisuke nodded, understanding completely. He blew a mental kiss to his red lady before flash stepping to the Shouten.

“We’re here, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo nodded, feeling discombobulated. He always did, entering the shop without being able to feel the energy pulsing through it. He had been terrible at sensing reiatsu, but it had always been there. Now, he felt nothing.

Ururu went up to him and gave him a hug. “Kurosaki-San? Tessai-San and I brought you some tea. Sumimasen.”

“Hey, what're you apologizing for?” He ruffled the young girl’s hair, “thank you Ururu.”

She smiled a little before bowing and going to the other room.

“Now,” Urahara sat down across from Ichigo, “I had been hoping to talk to you, but these don't happen to be the most opportune circumstances.” Yoruichi - in cat form- leapt onto the boy’s lap, hoping to comfort him. The odd gigai Kisuke had made ensured that Ichigo would be able to see her. He pet her absentmindedly, holding her close as she purred. “Breathe, Ichigo.”

He nodded, “I'm working on it.” He took a deep breath, thoroughly comforted by the familiarity of the Shouten. In, out. 3 seconds in, 5 seconds out. “So, GetaBoushi, you had something you wanted to tell me about?”

“That I do. You see, there are other powers in the world besides shinigami, kami, hollows, etc. among them are wizards.” At ichigo’s spluttering he grinned, hiding his face with his fan, “yare yare, don't get your panties in a twist Kurosaki-San, it's not so implausible. This wizards, as they call themselves, are but humans who are more sensitive to reiatsu. Similarly to Shinigami and Quincies, they are able to channel it, though on a much weaker level. They call it magic. Ichigo, you don’t need to be more than human to access these, and while you do not have access to your powers, they still exist within you.”

Ichigo stared at his mentor in shock, “are you saying..?”

“Yes.”

Hope poured through Ichigo. He had been so terrified of his inability to protect others, perhaps this magic would allow him to again.

“I bring this up because I was sent a letter from the headmaster of a rather prestigious magical school. It has an absolutely ridiculous name, and I do hope it'll make you laugh at some point. The headmaster requested me to send someone with ‘expertise in defense’ to look out for one of his students.” Urahara signed, “the boy is credited with defeating a dark wizard as a baby and said wizard is apparently back. I have interest in the matter because I want to know how he's been avoiding death. But back to the matter at hand. I decided you'd be a good choice. Well, Benihime actually decided and she's proven to be very wise over the centuries. Because Kurosaki-San, even without powers you are incredibly strong and… You need a break. You need time to be a teen. Perhaps the exposure to magic will even help bring back your powers. I am working on something, but I'm not sure when it'll be done. Hopefully soon. I’ve spent some time in the wizarding world over the last century, so the headmaster thinks I’m a wizard. He knows nothing of Shinigami.”

Ichigo blinked at him for a little, taking in all the information. “I'll do it.”

“That's the spirit Kurosaki-Kun!” Kisuke sung cheerfully.

“Dammit you shady asshole! I'll kick your ass for being so familiar!”

The shopkeeper smiled at the expression on the boy’s face. Already, he seemed livelier. “I look forward to it, Kurosaki-san!” he waggled his fingers, “The room downstairs is open any time! I’ll set everything up with Headmaster Dumbledore-san. You take care of yourself and I’ll let you know when the preparations are complete.”

Ichigo seemed to sag in relief. “Thank you, GetaBoushi.”

“Hey,” the shopkeeper placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll send Youichi to keep an eye on you.”

“As long as she stops stripping in front of me!” Ichigo sighed gratefully. He knew that it was Kisuke’s own way of saying he cared. “Thank you.”

“Ma, ma! I haven’t done anything. That’s all you, Kurosaki-san.”

Chapter Text

Ichigo spun his pencil around his fingers as he pondered his sketchbook. He had been drawing a lot recently, an embarrassing amount honestly. His sketchbooks were filling quickly with sketches and full color drawings of his memories. He’d never admit it, but he had a full mini-sketchbook dedicated solely to the cold head of the Kuchiki clan. Urahara had gotten a glimpse of it once and wouldn’t stop teasing him for weeks with knowing glances, snide remarks, and ‘Oh Kurosaki-san! I was right! So you do swing that way!’. It was mortifying.

He sighed, ignoring his teacher as she droned on and on about parametric functions. He was sick of the damn things! They were almost exactly what he was doing in physics, but just exactly the right amount of different to be unable to keep the two straight. Or gay , his brain reminded him, sounding - as usual - heart wrenchingly like Shiro.

“Kurosaki-Kun!” a feminine voice caught his attention and he snapped the sketchbook closed.

“Ne? Inoue!” He blinked rapidly, “Is everything okay?” his heart twinged a little. He missed the girl and his other friends.

“Yeah! Ishida-kun, Chad, and I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us! I brought food!”

“Uh..” He pondered it for a second. He wasn’t hungry, at all, but he missed them, “Sure.”

She smiled brightly, hair clips gleaming against her russet hair. He packed up his bag, slinging it over his shoulders, and joined her on the rooftop as soon as class way over.

“Over here, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime waved at him. He nodded and sat down.

“It’s good to see you, Kurosaki-san.” Uryu intoned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We were wondering how you’ve been. I do apologize for how busy we’ve been, I’ve had many sewing projects going on, and -”

Ichigo cut him off. “Don’t give me shit.”

The trio looked at him in shock.

“You’re worried about me now?” he choked out a laugh, “ Sure. I believe that. But don’t give me that bull. I know why you’re busy. What? Too many hollows to handle now that I’m out of the equation? I’m sure you guys have been so very busy, what with all the bathroom breaks and convenient trips to the nurses office. You can’t fool me. Even I had better excuses. Tch.” He made to stand up.

“Wait! Kurosaki-kun! It’s not like that!” Orihime grabbed his arm, “We didn’t want to worry you! We know that the loss of your powers hit you really hard, so we didn’t want to remind you!-”

“LET GO OF ME!” He spun around, war reflexes almost kicking in. “You didn’t want to remind me? Oh you did such a fantastic job of that! Sorry Inoue, maybe we’ll have lunch another time.” He stood up, walking away.”

“I’m sorry Ichigo.” Chad muttered quietly, causing the boy to soften his stance a little.

“It’s okay Chad. You guys had good intentions. Our agreement still stands.” he lightly punched the teen on the shoulder to show his affection before whispering, “Ask GetaBoushi if you need me.”

And with that he jumped off the roof, going into a roll at the last second for a safe landing. The trio’s eyes widened in horror.

“Did...did he just..” Uryu turned to the others in shock, “We messed up.”

“Big time.” Chad agreed. “We need to fix this, but maybe he needs some time away from us first.”

“Yeah..” Orihime looked down at the ground, “I hope he’ll be okay.”

“He’s Kurosaki,” Uryu reminded her, “He always comes out on top.”

…..

Ichigo ran to the Shouten, breathing hard until he ran into someone. “Ah, sumimasen!” His eyes were blown wide, half in a panic attack, half stuck in a bout of PTSD.

“Kurosaki-san?” He was steadied by two pale hands, but he was still shaking, breath uncontrollable. “Kurosaki?” still no response. “Ichigo!”

His name, barked with military precision, seemed to start Ichigo out of the attack. “Bya-byakuya?” He could hardly believe his eyes. What was the noble doing here? In Gigai no less!”

“That’s Kuchiki-san or Kuchiki-taichou, kurosaki-san.” Byakuya wasn’t exactly sure how to react. He was in the world of the living to meet with Urahara and take care of some business, he hadn’t expected to run into the savior of the soul society while in gigai.

“Byakuya..” The teen slumped against him, shaking hard.

Grey eyes widened as the captain of the sixth took in what exactly he was seeing. Panic attack... Hisana had had them occasionally, he had had them as himself as well, but he never expected to find Kurosaki in such a state. Idiotic. I should have. He’s only 16...kami… and we threw him into this war with him not even of age in this world. “URAHARA!” He yelled, hoping to catch the shopkeeper’s attention.

And so he did. Kisuke ran out the shouten, accustomed to that certain tone of voice from the captain as a sign that something was seriously wrong. When he found the noble holding his so-his protégée in his arms, he stilled. “Byakuya-bo...What’s going on..?”

“I don’t know. He literally ran into me.”

Urahara quickly swept the boy up into his arms. “Ichigo, I’m here. You’re safe. Byakuya-taichou is here too. Aizen is dead, you’re safe, I promise, you’re safe right now, you’re safe. Breathe with me. 3 in, 5 out. I’ve got you. “

Slowly, Ichigo’s breathing returned to normal. “GetaBoushi?”

“Did you forget my name, Kurosaki-kun? So rude!”

“Getaboushi…”

“Kurosaki-san.. Are you..alright?” the question slipped out unnaturally from the stoic noble’s lips.

Ah! Byakuya is seeing me like this? Ichigo almost died of embarrassment. “I’ll, I’ll be okay. I'm sorry for running into you, taichou.”

“It is of no trouble, Kurosaki kun.” he looked at him closely. “I know that such ideas are beyond your level of understanding? But what is wrong with your reiatsu? Your soul is.. Not what it was.”

Ichigo stiffened. “Well that’s just what happens when you’ve lost two thirds of it.”

Silence.

“What. Did. You. Just. Say.” Fury began to build within the man’s frame. “They made you leave Soul Society with TWO THIRDS OF YOUR SOUL MISSING??”

He flinched. “Well yeah… I mean, without Zangetsu, I’m just a regular human, ya know? Can’t even see pluses. Can’t even hear shiro.”

Byakuya’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the boy’s eyes glistening. I am going to have some words with people when I go back. “And who knows of this?”

“Yamamoto-soutaichou, my father, the others here in Karakura, the new central 46, Kurotsuchi, the Shiba clan. Rukia, Renji. Nobody else.”

“I.. please accept my greatest apologies, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Huh?” he asked, completely eloquently.

“I assume nobody has visited afore me?”

Kisuke shook his head. “You’re the first.”

“Urahara. Give him a way to contact me.

Kisuke regarded them slyly, “So ka~. I’ll do so right away, Byakuya-taichou. In the meantime, I do believe you have a mission, and Kurosaki-kun here has some reading to do before he meets a certain acquaintance of mine.”

“Oh no.” Ichigo blanched. “Please don’t say training.”

“Not at all! You have to read four years worth of coursework before we even start training you!” And with that, the eccentric scientist dragged him off, ignoring his protests.

“No! I’m almost done with highschool! GetaBoushi!”

Byakuya shook his head, a small, rare smile crossing his face before it fell into a determined scowl. He would fix this.

Chapter Text

The time dragged on slowly. The Hogwarts school year would start in September, while the regular school year had started in April - something which was cause for much whining about not getting any break. Ichigo spent most of his time at the Shouten, pouring over spellbooks and helping out. It had come as quite a shock when an honest to god owl had crashed through the window, gaining groans from the shopkeeper about having to repair the shop again.

“Oi! GetaBoushi! Why’s there a damn owl in here?” The redhead yelled, causing the owl to hoot indignantly at him. The shopkeeper lazily walked on in, followed by Tessai (who was holding tea and some treats for said bird).

“That would be your school acceptance letter and supply list, if I’m not mistaken.” He droned, waving his fan casually, “Why don’t you open it up?”

Ichigo sighed and went to finagle the letter out of the carrying holster. It had an intricate  crest on it as the wax seal and was addressed to:

Mr Ichigo Kurosaki

Karakura Town Japan

Urahara Shouten

Kitchen

He raised an eyebrow, a bit disturbed at the accuracy of the address, and broke the seal. It read:

Dear Mr. Kurosaki,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.  Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock.

Third-years and above are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

[signed]

Minerva Mcgonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Fifth Year students will require:

Uniform:

The quantity given are the suggested minimum requirements.

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)
4. Three white shirts for boys or blouses for girls
5. Two grey sweaters, vests or cardigans
6. Two charmable ties in house colours
7. One charmable winter scarf in house colours
8. Two pairs of trousers or shorts for boys, or skirts for girls
9. Three pairs of white knee socks or black wool stockings for girls, or grey knee socks or black ankle socks for boys.
10. One set of dress robes (any colour, conservative style)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

Required Textbooks

Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles by Wilhelm Wigworthy

The Monster Book of Monsters

Fantastic beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

Creature Comforts: A Guide to Magical Creature Environments by Winnie Rider

The Standard Book of Spells Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk

The Complete Constellation Dictionary 3rd Edition

Futhark Magic: A Study of Ancient Runes

Spellman’s Syllabary

Curses and Counter-Curses by Vindictus Viridian

Modern Magical History

The Dream Oracle

Achievements in Charming

Poisonous Plants and the art of Medicine by O. Ollesteria

Numbers and the Meaning of Life: Advanced Arithmancy by Perseus Pythagoras

Nancy Nova Brings you the Planets

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Other Equipment:

1 wand

2 cauldrons (pewter, standard size 2, copper standard size 4)

1 set crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass or silver scales

1 advanced potions ingredients kit

1 set of protective gloves (Dragonhide is preferred)

Quills

Inks

Parchment

Blank Journal

Muggle Pencil or Pen if taking Muggle Studies

1 abacus

Lunarscope

Crystal Ball

Rune Set

Wand Holster

Non-wand magical focus (if so desired)

Students may also bring familiars or pets. Approved familiars are:

Toad

Cat

Rat

Owl

Ichigo read through it carefully, thanking his eleven years of english classes. “So, GetaBoushi, where am I supposed to get these? I don’t have wizarding currency and I sure as hell don’t have a wand.” he snorted, “A wand and a pointed hat? Can they be any more cliche?”

“Ma, ma Ichigo. Don’t discount them now. While their magic is not truly on par with kido, it is quite powerful. I’m sure you’ll take to it like a moth to fire!”

“I’m uh pretty sure the saying is a fish to water…”

Kisuke suddenly appeared in his face, “Did I hear you say something, eh Kurosaki-san?”

“Nope. Not at all.” he trailed off, not wanting to set the eccentric shopkeeper off on a tangent.

White fan flapping, Kisuke tapped his lips. “I’ll send an owl back right away, and a the headmaster will have someone come and get you to go buy supplies. Yoruichi-san and I will come with.”

“Quite Right!” said woman (in cat form), walked over to Ichigo. “I will be your pet while at hogwarts.” she sniffed. “But in no way am I a pet, and you are not to treat me as such. Understood?” Her golden eyes glared at him, drilling in her point.

“Oi, woman, I know you’re not my pet.” He grinned, “But maybe if you’re good I’ll buy you Fancy Feasts!” She leapt at his face, digging her claws in. “Okay, Okay! Gak!”

Urahara laughed quietly.

Ichigo managed to extract Yoruichi from off his face. “Don’t worry, I understand.”

“Good. I'll come and go as I please.” And make sure you're okay. I've got to make sure my kit is in good health

He nodded. “How will I get information to you guys? I don't have, well, I don't have an owl.”

“We’ll rectify that, don't worry. Now head on home Kurosaki-Kun. Unless you’d like to stay for tea and sake.”

Ichigo shook his head. “Maybe another time. Thank you, Yoruichi-San, GetaBoushi.” For caring...I don't know why you care so much but I'm glad. Aren't you two supposed to be the shady ones nobody can trust? For a pair of spies you really are the ones with the most sincere hearts…

Kisuke tilted his hat and ruffled the boy’s hair. The small touches were something he had found the teen was deprived of. He'd spent so much time fighting, with the only physical affection being crushing hugs. The result of the ingrained need to avoid blows had caused Ichigo to instinctively shy away from and crave touch. Ichigo sighed, for once feeling safe as he was surrounded by his mentors. “Go get some sleep Ichigo. You need it.” The ex-captain of the twelfth muttered quietly. “You have school in the morning and I know you've been having trouble sleeping.”

Ichigo hung his head. Memories and nightmares had haunted his dreams, making him wake up screaming. He’d stopped sleeping so that he wouldn't worry Yuzu, Karin, or Goat-face. “I'm sorry..”

A sudden whack with a cane startled him. “No apologizing. Benihime says to get a grip. You've been through a war Kurosaki-San. It's not shameful to have nightmares.”

“I know...but that's not it. I wake up screaming and that hurts my sisters. They can't wake me, I'll lash out at them.” he sighed, and with a rare expression, peered up at Kisuke. “Can I, can I stay here tonight?” He looked painfully young, his 16 years expressed plainly how his childhood had been taken away the second his mom died.

“Of course, Ichigo. I’ll have Ururu and and Jinta prep a room for you.”

“Thank you..”

Urahara sent him off to Tessai, eyes uncharacteristically soft. “Yoruichi? When did I become a father?”

“About the time you decided to take in Ururu and Jinta I think, although it could've been earlier.” She transformed into her human shape, curling naked against him. “I’ll keep a close eye on him at Hogwarts. If you're correct,”

“Well I do tend to be.”

She sighed in fond exasperation,” if you're correct, the ambient magic will help him recover his powers. I'll let you know his progress.”

“Aw, I can always count on you Yoruichi.”

“well I'm glad you can! We've been taking care of each other for centuries now!”

Chapter Text

The day came in early August, when the leaves were brilliant green and the time filled with chilled soba and reading on rooftops, that Ichigo was summoned to the Shouten to meet with one Professor Dumbledore. The name had inspired much mirth in the young man, having made him fall over laughing due to the fact that a professor’s name had the word dumb in it.

When the message came, Ichigo was sprawled out on the grass, watching Karin at her soccer practice. He was proud of his sister and had resigned himself to the fact that she was training to be a shinigami. He couldn't stop her, and apparently, neither could GetaBoushi. The teen smiled softly as he sketched said sister at the ball on one side of the page and Yuzu dancing on the other. He was startled out of the peaceful tranquility when he got thwacked on the head by a crumpled up piece of paper.

Oi!

Ichigo glared at the offending item as he picked it up and unfolded it. It read:

Please come to Urahara shop at 16:00.

He sighed and nodded, thoroughly thankful the scientist hadn't decided on the portable murder scene message this time.

“Yo! Karin!”

“Ne? What's up Ichi-nii?”

“I gotta head over to GetaBoushi! Tell Yuzu and Goatface not to wait up for me for dinner!”

“Hai!” She waved goodbye to him, exuding him in that twelve year old way of hers. Ichigo shook his head fondly, thoroughly reminded of himself. Although with less getting into actual fights, thank kami. Beating up yakuza members can be fun, but I don't want my little sister doing that ever! He nodded to himself, stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and started the trek to Urahara’s.

He arrived at the shouten and let himself in, not bothering to knock. Out in the courtyard Jinta and Ururu were sweeping. Well, Ururu was and the boy was slacking off. Ichigo chuckled, sliding open the shoji door.

“Konnichiwa, Tessai-San.” He greeted.

“Boss is in the back.”

“Ah.” The boy nodded in affirmation and made his way towards GetaBoushi.

He walked in to a quite odd sight. Blinking rapidly, he took in what he was seeing. An old man was sitting in his favorite chair; one with a beard longer than Yama-Jii’s and half moon glasses. But what was even odder was his fashion sense! He was wearing what looked like an unflattering purple dress, embellished with stars and silver designs all over it. Ichigo shivered. He could just imagine Rangiku’s response to such an outfit. He raised an eyebrow. “This Dumbdoor dude?”

Kisuke laughed, fanning his face. “Yep! This is Dumbledore-sensei.”

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly unfazed by Ichigo’s botching of his name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ichigo my boy.”

The teen stiffened, reminded far too much of Aizen to be comfortable. “Ah, yes. Hajimemashite, dozo yoroshiku.”

“No need to be so formal my boy. So, Kisuke tells me you’d like to transfer to Hogwarts this year?” Ichigo made a noise to the affirmative. “I’m assuming you will need a wand. I remember when Kisuke went to Hogwarts! He had used a completely different form of magic beforehand and didn’t even have a wand!”

“Yes, yes, Kurosaki-San uses the same type of magic I do, so he’ll be needing a wand and all the necessary school supplies. As his teacher, I’ve decided to go to Diagon Alley with him. It’ll be a nice bonding experience!”

The orange haired boy sweatdropped, sighing internally and frowning when he didn’t hear a snarky comment from his hollow.

“Oh certainly! I’m sure you’d like to visit magical London again. I have a portkey here,” and with this he gestured to an old and slimy boot on the ground, “to take you there. An acquaintance of mine will be waiting for you. Her name is Nymphadora Tonks, but mind you not call her that; she quite dislikes her name.”

“Got it Jii-san.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Then I’ll be on my way! I’m excited to see you on your first day of term.”

And with that he disappeared in a loud CRACK !

Ichigo jumped, hand flying to his racing heart. He flinched, images of explosions flashing through his mind.

“Ichigo, Hey.” He flushed as his head was slammed into what felt like two large, soft, cushions.

“Yo-Yoruichi-San!!!” He scrambled backwards, bright red.

“Ma, you’re so fun to tease!” She laughed before growing serious. “Kit, we’re here for you. It’ll be okay, but we’ve got to use the portkey before it takes off without us.”

Ichigo nodded. “Okay, so how do I use it?”

“Just touch it with your finger!”

Ichigo stared at his mentors. “Are you shitting me?”

“Maybeee~” Kisuke drawled. “No that’s actually how you use it.” The boy sighed, resigned to the shopkeeper’s behavior.

“Okay, I’ll assume it’s highly painful if it’s that simple.” He touched his finger to it and Yoruichi and Urahara joined him.

Kisuke secured both Benihime and his fan. “And we’re off in, San, ni, Ichi!”

All of a sudden, ichigo felt a highly uncomfortable pulling sensation in his gut as the world spun around him. When the universe finally came back into focus, the teen collapsed into a pile of long limbs. It took a while for him to gather himself together and stop feeling insanely nauseous. “Ughhhh I am a never doing that again!! That was more uncomfortable than being stabbed!”

Urahara chuckled, letting the goddess of flash lean on him before she turned into a cat. Once transformed, she crawled onto his shoulders, purring. “So! What do you think, Kurosaki-San?”

“Huh?” He said eloquently before looking around. Bustling buildings filled with magical items surrounded him, people clamoring around in wizarding robes, charmed items flying and flirting around. His breath caught. “Kisuke...I can feel it.” And he could. The ambient magic was everywhere, in every brick around him, in the giant white fortress at the end of the alley, in every shop, nook, and cranny. “I can feel it!” He grinned insanely, reminding the two shinigami of Shiro. “I can’t believe it! And it’s, it’s so magical! Like I know kido is magic, but this, this is storybook magic!” Eyes gleaming for the first time in a year, he took a deep breath. “Wow.”

“It is wow, isn’t it.” Urahara ruffled his hair. “I remember when I first stepped into Diagon Alley. We’ll have to get you some hot butterbeer, or, if you want something stronger, firewhiskey.”

“I’m a minor!!!”

“So?” Yoruichi crossed her arms in amusement. “Didn’t stop you from getting into a drinking contest with Shunsui, Rangiku, and Grimmjow.”

“That, that was different!”

She laughed at his protests. “Come on kit, let’s meet up with our guide.”

“Wait!” Kisuke held up a hand, fishing in his haori sleeve. “Here.” He pulled out a bracelet with a charm that looked like his mask. “For you. Translation. I know you’re proficient in English, but this will let you be fluent.”

Ichigo’s heart warmed. Kisuke made it, for him? “Thank you...you didn’t need to.”

“I know. But I wanted to.” And I care about you, came the unspoken message.

Ichigo slipped it onto his wrist, bowing slightly.

“Wotcher! You must be Ichigo, right?” A young woman with shockingly pink hair waved at them. “Hi, I’m Tonks. Dumbledore should’ve mentioned me. Oh wow! Your hair is even more orange than the weasleys! Are you related to them? Or a metamorphmagus like me?”

Ichigo blinked. Once. Twice. “You gotta problem with my hair?” He almost growled.

“Huh? Not at all! You see mine?”

He nodded. “I know another girl with pink hair. Pardon my question, but were you born like that?”

She laughed and responded, as if it was the most obvious question in the world, “oh no! I’m a metamorphmagus. I can change my features at will.” She changed her hair to bright purple to demonstrate.

“Ookay then.” Ichigo nodded to himself. “Not the oddest thing I’ve seen.”

Tonks clapped her hands. “And Who May you be?” She asked Kisuke.

He took off his hat and bowed to her. “Kisuke Urahara, at your service.”

Oh how delightful! Tonks thought. “And you’re accompanying Mr. Kurosaki?”

“That’s me alright.”

“Well then! We should be on our way! I hear this young man will be needing a wand?”

“I’m right here…” ichigo raised a hand sassily, “and yes.”

“Then let’s get you one. C’mon!” And she set off, Ichigo, Kisuke, and one not actually feline cat trailing behind her.

They arrived at a dusky old shop, perfumed with the smell of dust, books, and fragrant woods. The sign read Ollivanders: Makers Of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

“Woo” ichigo whistled and stepped inside. The walls were lined with boxes in all different colors, haphazardly stuffed and stacked into shelves. The scent of the magic in the shop was warm, warm and woody like a comforting fireplace. He had quickly realized that magic had its own unique scents. For a year he’d been unable to sense any reiatsu and as such, the ability to feel the magic was exhilarating.

They’d hardly stepped through the door when a ladder slid towards them, an old man whom Ichigo supposed to be Ollivander atop it.

“How curious! A Japanese wizard. Ah, Mr Urahara, I remember the day I sold you your wand. 12 and a half inches, bloodworn horned serpent core, PurpleHeart, unyielding.”

Kisuke bowed his head. “Indeed, I have it with me right now.”

“And you’ve been taking care of it?”

“Of course.”

“That one is an interesting wand, with a lust for knowledge and competition.”

Huh Ichigo thought, that does sound like GetaBoushi.

“Now, time for your wand young sir.” Ollivander snapped his fingers and a measuring tape started taking Ichigo’s measurements. Everything from the length of his hair and nose, his height, waist, shoulders, arms, legs, and even unmentionables, Nothing was spared from the measurements. “Which is your wand arm, Mr Kurosaki?”

Wand arm? He must mean dominant hand. “Well, I’m ambidextrous but I tend to favor my right.”

Ollivander nodded and examined said arm, tsking as he went. “The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Kurosaki. They have personalities of their own you see, and they demand great respect.”

“So almost like a Zanpakuto…” The boy muttered in Japanese, earning a nod from his mentor.

The wand maker pulled out a wand from a shelve. “Rowan, dragon heartstring, 11 inches, swishy. Go on, give it a wave!”

“Uh,” ichigo held the wand a bit skeptically, “okay.” He waved the wand and the lamp on the other side of the room exploded. He startled, amazed that he’d actually done magic.

“No no no, that’s not right for you, how silly of me.” He quickly plucked the wand out of the boy’s hand and replaced it with another. “Phoenix feather, silver ash, 13 inches, inflexible.”

Ichigo nodded and gave it a wave. Power coursed through it and the wand shattered in his hand. “Ah! I’m so sorry! I broke one of your wands! Please forgive me!”

“Oh don’t worry Mr Kurosaki, it happens all the time.”

He wasn’t really reassured, still feeling terrible that he broke one of the wands.

“We’ll find you your wand yet, Young mr Kurosaki, not to worry.”

The time flew by, piles and piles of discarded wands growing on chairs tables.

“Hmm I wonder…” the wandmaker paused for a moment, regarding the young man. “I’ll be right back.” He made his way to the back of the shop, selecting a shimmery wand box from the shelf. This may do..this may do. Especially since he’s seemed receptive to cherry wood.

Ollivander went out to them. “This wand is quite unique. Upon attending a conference of wandmakers, I was gifted this core. It is the tail of a thunderbird, blessed and infused with moonwater from a Shinto shrine. The wood is cherry, or Sakura in Japanese I suppose. It’s 13 inches, and very feisty.” He placed the wand in Ichigo’s hands. The wood was polished so that it was almost glowing a dark red. The detailing was gorgeous and complex with kanji carved into the sides. It read ‘blossom of the moon’ and ‘protector.’ Even the shape of the wand was beautiful, smooth curves and carved circles. The wrap carved around the handle looked almost like the bandages on Zangetsu, except more delicate. The base of the handle was carved like a Sakura blossom, and the whole wand was so beautiful it made ichigo catch his breath. He waved it and what looked like a small Getsuga Tenshou came out. But, instead of destroying, it filled the air with the scent of honeyed sake.

Ichigo stared in wonder, beaming.

“Yes! That’s the one!” Ollivander looked delighted. “That wand hasn’t found a master in so very long! Do treat it well. Also, a word to the wise. Thunderbird wands can sense danger. They’ll thrum when danger is close and they have the ability to cast curses on their own. Treat your wand well and it will be extremely loyal.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr Ollivander.”

“It is of no trouble. It is the joy of my life to pair young witches and wizards to their wands.”

Tonks handed over some money to the wizard, and they were on their way. “We’ll head to the leaky cauldron for now. It’s an inn and a tavern. Tomorrow we’ll buy the rest of your supplies and stop at Gringotts.”

“Thank you so much for your assistance, Ms Tonks.” Kisuke said politely (for once), “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

It had been a couple of weeks since they had bought the supplies, and Ichigo had spent the time being heavily trained by two relentless taskmasters, aka Shihouin Yoruichi and Urahara Kisuke. Tonks stopped by the Leaky Cauldron every now and again to ‘check up on them’.

“It’s because she’s the one the headmaster has assigned to watch over you.” Urahara had explained, “that, or she has a crush.” This had earned a chuckle from Yoruichi and a growl from the teenager.

Ichigo had refused the dress robes at the store, blatantly insulting the fashion sense and calling the garments crimes of existence. Of course, according to the supply list, he needed said robes, which led to him being kidnapped by Yoruichi in order to get his measurements.

“I’ll send them to the Shihouin robe makers! They’ll make you an outfit befitting a prince.” She told him with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. He hope she wasn’t messing with him, because if she was, he might just cry. He really didn’t want to show up dressed in something skimpy.

Of course, she didn’t mention how said outfits were as heavy as they were beautiful. He only found out when he’d heard a certain shopkeeper commenting, “aren’t those the ones who made your furisode?”

“Yes.”

“The one for your induction ceremony?”

“Yes Kisuke.”

“The ones that weigh five billion tons?”

“Yes.”

“The ones that took forever to get off you?”

“Yes!”

That conversation (while a big more than he’d wanted to hear) had apparently sealed his fate of wearing Shihouin formal clothing. A fate which, While he would’ve avoided If possible, truly wasn’t that bad. And so he stood tall and helped pick out the fabrics.

Once that had been done, all other school supplies had been bought. They set up a vault in Gringotts (the wizarding bank) for his money, and spent most of the time at the leaky caldron.

And so, several weeks after Ichigo’s induction to wizarding London, his new routine was disturbed by the rapping  at the door of the trio’s room.

“Hello?”

“‘Ello! Tonks here. Is that Ichigo?”

“Hai, that’s me.” He opened the door. The witch was sporting turquoise hair today and a cheery smile upon her face. “Oi! GetaBoushi!”

Kisuke strode on over, ever present hat balanced on his head as always. “Ah, hello Ms. Tonks! What can my humble self do for you today?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Definitely humble.

“Professor Dumbledore sent me to bring you to where you’ll be staying for the rest of the school year.

Oh no. “Please don’t say by portkey.” The boy shuddered, remembering how they had gotten to London in the first place.

Tonks gave him a sympathetic look. “Those really aren’t much fun are they. No, we’ll be going by floo.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Flu?”

“The floo system. Fireplaces.”

Um okay then.

“Well Kurosaki-Min! I guess that means we’ve got to pack!” Urahara grinned behind his fan and let Yoruichi climb into his shoulders. He gave his wand a wave and the miscellaneous clutter around the room flew into the suitcases. “There.”

Ichigo breathed in the magic, still feeling uncharacteristiclly giddy from the surges of power. “Hey Geta-Boushi...is it possible to get high off of magic?”

Kisuke laughed. “You might!”

Tonks gave them a questioning look which they completely ignored. “Alright then! We’d better hurry.” She led them downstairs to the central fireplace and threw some powder into the fire, turning it a bright emerald green. “Step into the flames and announce, very clearly, Grimmauld Place.”

“Ah.” Ichigo nodded and did so, telling himself that the fireplace wasn’t a threat. “Grimmauld place!”

He felt himself getting sucked through and he stumbled through another fireplace, appearing in a shack at the end of a street. “Huh?”

Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Tonks soon appeared, slightly covered in ash from the fireplace. “Here.” She passed around a small piece of parchment. “Read it, memorize it, don’t say it out loud.” They nodded. Number 12 Grimmauld place..

Tonks took it from kisuke and burned it. “There. There’s a Fidelius charm on it, so that was necessary. Come with me.” She led them out onto the street and to a rather giant house. “Here we are.” She opened the door and very promptly tripped, knocking over the coat rack.

“ HYBRIDS, MUDBLOODS, TRAITORS! SCUM ON THE HOUSE OF BLACK! DISGUSTING FILTH IN MY HOUSEHOLD!-“ a man ran and snatched the curtains on either side of the screaming picture shut. Ichigo had stiffened, fully ready to spring into combat.

“Ah, sorry about that.” The man sighed. “I’m Sirius Black. I see you’ve met my mother.”

Harry POV

The screaming of the portrait started a stampede downstairs to see who the visitors were. At the bottom of the steps were Tonks, a blond man in odd green robes and a striped bucket hat, and a teen about their age with bright orange hair.

“Blimey! Your hair is brighter than mine!” Ron exclaimed.

“Great. Been here one second and there’s already shit about my hair.” The teen deadpanned.

“Don’t be so surly Kurosaki-San, you’ll be at school with these boys!” The blond man waved a white paper fan in front of him. “And I’ll have to be on my way back to Karakura.”

“Yeah, Yeah..take care of Yuzu, Karin, and Goat-face for me, will you?”

Goat-face??

“Of course.” The teen’s eyes looked haunted. “Ichigo…” the man brought him into a hug and the black cat (who had been resting on the blonde’s shoulders) climbed onto the orange haired boy. “Breathe. I’ll take care of the family.” He lowered his voice and Harry strained to hear it. “I won’t be available to help you through episodes,” episodes? “ but you have Yoruichi and you can reach me through letters. You have the phone I made that lets you contact Byakuya-bo, right?” The teen, Ichigo, nodded. “You can contact him. Ma, Ma, I know he’s Kuchiki-taichou, all high and mighty, but he has a soft spot for you and you know it.”

“Shut it.”

“Okay, okay! I was teasing. Ichigo. Please take care of yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. Thank you, GetaBoushi.”

“C’mon Kurosaki-kun! Doesn’t this merit my real name?”

“Che, Fine. Thank you, kisuke,”

The man ruffled his hair. “Tonks, give my regards to Dumbledore and the others, will you? I’m afraid I have to get back to business.”

Ichigo coughed and Harry could’ve sworn he heard him say, “business? More like manipulating us lovingly.” Which was quite odd. This guy looked like the boy’s mentor, so why would he manipulate him? Harry shook his head. And what was this about episodes? Was the kid crazy? And why did he just randomly show up?

Hermione startled him out of his thoughts. “Who do you think that is Harry? Did Dumbledore mention him? I think he said something about a transfer student, so that’s probably him.”

“Yeah...no Dumbledore didn’t say anything. I’m not sure what to think yet. I mean, who is this kid and why did he appear now? What are these episodes he has? What kind of business? Is he a death eater?”

Hermione sighed as Ron nodded. “Honestly Harry, you think everyone is a Death Eater.”

“Why would anyone eat death?” The boy scrunched up his nose. “Death tastes terrible. I definitely would never want to eat it. And talk about a pretentious name!” At the trio’s frozen expressions he blinked. “Oh sorry, was I not supposed to here that? My sincerest apologies, though I really couldn’t care less. I’m Ichigo Kurosaki, transfer student for the year, and I have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about. Nice to meet you.”

The golden trio stared at him. Nobody had noticed their nosiness so quickly before, and he was quite a sight. Tall, orange haired, rather handsome, and with a scar showing over the top of his neckline. No matter who the kid was, one thing was definitely for certain. This year would definitely be interesting.

Chapter Text

Ooo Disclaimer. Part of this chapter has work from the original Order of the Phoenix by J.K Rowling. I lay no claim to that, nor do I own the Harry Potter series ( by J.K Rowling) bleach (which is by Tite Kubo)

Meanwhile in soul society

Kuchiki Byakuya, head of the noble Kuchiki clan and captain of the sixth, strode into the first for the Captains’ meeting. He stopped at the end of the rows of captains, addressing them all, haori and scarf billowing menacingly.

“Exactly whose idea was it, to let Kurosaki Ichigo, the sixteen year old who saved us, back into the world of the living, with two thirds of his soul missing?” His voice was harsh as he surveyed his fellow captains. Kurotsuchi had a gleeful look on his face, one associated with wanting to experiment, while, as understanding dawned on the other captains, horror grew in their eyes.

“Byakuya...what do you mean?” Hitsugaya questioned, teal eyes widening.

“I mean, whatever he did to end the war left him with no powers, unable to see even pluses and has completely alienated him from his comrades. It disturbs me greatly that no measures were taken.”

The reiatsu in the room rose and the Soutaicho slammed his cane into the ground. “ENOUGH KUCHIKI-TAICHOU! What you are accusing us of is grave. It was not your fellow captains’ faults. The central 46 decided that one as dangerous as Kurosaki Ichigo would be safer and better off without his powers, and so, no measures - by ruling of the central 46 - have been taken to restore his powers.”

Byakuya bowed his head, not so subtly shaking with fury behind his Kuchiki mask. “I see.” Did it occur to nobody, no one at all, that this boy has just been in a war? “In that case, let us proceed. I apologize for the interruption, Soutaichou.”

This is not the end of this.

…..

Harry POV

“Oh hello!” Mr. Weasley appeared and hurried forward to greet the teen, and shook his hand vigorously. The poor transfer student seemed a bit dumbfounded, unsure how to react. “'Good to meet you!”

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you too, Mr…”

“Weasley. Arthur Weasley.”

Kurosaki nodded and bowed slightly, “ichigo Kurosaki.”

“Nice to meet you Ichigo! Journey all right, Harry?” Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. “Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then? Sorry I wasn’t here when you got in.”
“He tried,”  Tonks deadpanned, magenta lips pursed in a frown as she strode over to help Bill, promptly toppling a candle on to the last piece of parchment. “Oh no, I’m sorry, traveling by portkey with Ichigo here made me clumsier than usual I’m afraid, sorry -“

“Here, dear,” Mrs Weasley quickly doused the flame with her wand. “This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings.” she shot all the adults in the room judging looks.
“Sit down, Harry” said Sirius. “You've met Mundungus, haven't you?”

“Unfortunately.”

Ginny giggled.
“The meeting's over, Dung,” Sirius told the misshapen pile of rags in humanish form, as they all sat down around him at the table. “We have visitors.”

Harry shot the exchange student a look. The boy looked thoroughly out of place as he raised a hand to wave. “Hi.”

“If you lot want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand!” Mrs. Weasley scolded those around her and set her hands on her hips, “no, you two boys stay where you are! Ichigo dear, you look like you could just fit right in among my boys! And far too scrawny. You and Harry have had long journeys so I’m not accepting any help from you!”

The transfer student tried to protest, but, as any of her children - plus Harry and Hermione - could attest, Mrs Weasley was a force to be reckoned with, and Ichigo had no chance at winning.
And so people set about cooking, clattering pots and pans filling the air with the music of the kitchen.

“Ah this is so different from home.” Ichigo remarked, observing the situation. “Yuzu, my little sister, usually cooks because you can’t trust Goat-face or Karin with anything food related. And Yuzu is highly protective when it comes to cooking, so she won’t let me help either.”

Harry blinked. “Huh. That is different. Nice to meet you, I’m Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, I know.” Was the awkward response. “Tonks told me.”

“Tonks told you?” Ron asked incredulously, “what kinda wizard doesn’t know who Harry is without being told?”

“A foreign one.” The teen’s expression was completely non-impressed.

“Oh I do apologize for Ron,” Hermione elbowed him, “Ron say sorry! He has no tact. He’s obviously Japanese Ronald, of course he doesn’t know who Harry is!”
isn’t that a bit racist? Harry thought to himself, re-adjusting his glasses.

Sirius turned towards the four kids. “Had a good summer so far?”
'Nope!  it's been horrendously lousy,” said Harry with a grimace. It had been a horrid summer, what with the Dursleys and Dementors and all.
“Don't know what you're complaining about, myself.” Sirius commented.
“What?”
“Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights.... I've been stuck inside for a month.”
“How come?” Harry frowned.
“Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix ... or so Dumbledore feels.”
“well, I’ve had a pretty uneventful summer, personally.” Ichigo commented. “Honestly both of those sound much more interesting than having your teachers make you use them as target practice.
while goading you and treating life threatening situations as fun. Which I mean, they are.” he seemed to glare at the cat on his shoulders, who purred.

Sirius and Harry looked at him like he was crazy. “Oh yeah,” said Sirius sarcastically. “My summer has definitely been more eventful than that. Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time ... asking me how the cleaning's going--“

“Uh, Who’s Snape? Sorry, I have no idea what you guys are talking about. Maybe explain?”
“Potions Professor at Hogwarts. Nasty guy, hates me.” Ichigo nodded in understanding. Harry looked at him oddly. The boy was going to school with them, right? Why didn’t he know who anyone was? That was suspicious. But then again, not knowing Snape made it more likely that he wasn’t a death Eater.

The silence was disrupted by an extremely loud shout of, “Fred--George--NO, JUST CARRY THEM!” from the Weasley matriarch.
A giant cauldron of boiling hot soup zoomed towards the table, heading right at Harry. His eyes widened, prepared to jump out of the way when both he and Sirius were snatched away from the table and safely deposited a distance from the disaster zone. Orange hair swam into his vision.

“Sorry about that,” Kurosaki said, “are you guys all okay?”

They nodded, surprised by the teen’s strength.

“FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! 'THERE WAS NO NEED-- I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS-- JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!”

Ichigo covered a laugh and Harry, after pausing for a second to think about it, did laughed at the unintentional innuendo.
The twins only looked a little sheepish. “We were just trying to save time Mum! Uh, sorry Sirius, Harry, kid who looks like he could be our little bro.”

“Why is my hair such an issue..you all have red hair...I feel attacked.” Ichigo muttered in deadpan.
“Let's just, lets just eat,” said Bill quickly.
“it looks wonderful.” Lupin commented. Harry was impressed by his tact, but then again, the old DADA teacher had always had impeccable manners.
Ichigo sat down awkwardly next to Tonks. Harry empathized with the kid. The weasleys were quite a handful, and he had quite literally been dropped right amongst them.
“I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius,” Mrs Weasley turned to him, “I think there’s a boggart in the drawing room table but I thought we should have Alastair take a look at it.”

“Whatever you like,” Sirius shrugged indifferently.
“The curtains in there are full of doxys, too,” Mrs. Weasley went on. “I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.”
“sounds good.” Sirius said, voice full of sarcasm. He had the unique expression of someone being run over by a steamroller and didn’t seem quite sure as to what to do about it.
Three helpings of home made rhubarb crumble and custard later and the boy-who-lived felt himself going into a food coma from the sheer amount which he had eaten. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, Tonks was yawning widely, hair a drowsy blue. Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him and Ichigo’s black cat to chase, and Ichigo was staring at his plate, having finished the oddly small portion, in Harry’s opinion, of the delicious food.

“It seems almost time for bed, don’t you think?” Mrs Weasley instructed in a rhetorical question.
“actually,” the orange haired teen (whom Harry has almost forgotten about) spoke up. “I was literally dumped here today by Tonks with no warning, am surrounded by at least a dozen adults who can use possibly lethal magic, the only one I know is Tonks, GetsBoushi ditched me cause he’s a shady asshole who cares, and all of a sudden I’m hearing about some ‘You-Know-Who’ and some idiot named ‘Voldemort’. You sound like you’re preparing for a war and I just Fucking got out of one so could someone please explain!”

Mrs Weasley stiffened. “you kids are too young for this topic. You’re not even in the Order” Ichigo scoffed, a sentiment apparently echoed by Sirius.

“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions? Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen--“

“Where's Voldemort?” Harry asked, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. “What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything--“
“That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet,” said Sirius, “not as far as we know, anyway.... And we know quite a lot.”
“How come he's stopped killing people?” Harry asked. He knew Voldemort had murdered more than one person in just the last year alone.
“well that’s so obvious I’m seriously wondering if you’re all blind.” All the heads in the room swiveled to face Ichigo.
“it’s nice being ignored and all, but did you really forget I was here?” He sighed, rubbing a hand through his tangerine locks. “He wants to put you guys under the illusion that there’s no danger.”

Huh? How is this guy so knowledgeable??

“What? Did you all miss that I said I was just in a war?”

Molly gasped, “dear! Why are you sending you here then? Oh you’re much too young to be in a war, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t.” His voice was hard, “don’t ask about it. It was war. People died. The war’s over now and we’re rebuilding. It’s been a year. And don’t make me prove it to you. Please. I have plenty of scars I could show you, but I’d rather not.”

Harry looked at him in renewed interest. Since this guy had just been in a war, that meant he knew stuff, right? And experience would be really useful. He hated to admit it but he’d been really lucky so far.

“Well, you’re right young man.  The main thing the Order is doing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard,” said Bill. “It's proving tricky, though.”
“Why?”
“Because of the Ministry's attitude,' said Tonks. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened.”
“Well that’s idiotic. Government corruption and being under the illusion is highly dangerous, trust me.” Kurosaki rested his head on his hand, looking bored. “Also this You-Know-Who guy is Voldemort right?” There was a nod to the affirmative. “Thanks. Don’t mind me, I’m pretty used to war councils by know.”

So nonchalant!

“But why?” Harry wanted to scream. “Why's Fudge being so stupid? If Dumbledore--“
“Exactly.” Mr Weasley’s expression was strained. “Dumbledore.”
“Fudge is frightened of him, you see,” said Tonks sadly.
“well that’s just great.” Harry heard Ichigo mutter under his breath. “That’s even worse than having the central 46 get murdered without anyone realizing it. Fear is a powerful motivator.”

“Fudge thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic.” Tonks explained, hair turning a sad shade of grey.

“But Dumbledore doesn't want that!“ Harry protested. He couldn’t even picture the headmaster in the government. The mental picture itself was too hilarious.
“Of course he doesn't,” placated Mr. Weasley. “He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.”
“Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,” said Lupin. “But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.”
“How can he think that?' Harry said angrily. “How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up, that I'd make it all up?!”

“Because fear is a better motivator. This idiot in charge is obviously afraid. Afraid of Voldemort, afraid of losing his position, and he sees the cowards way out. Eliminating his competition with scandal while falling under the illusion of the enemy.” Ichigo stated, despite him saying he had no idea what was going on, Harry thought he was pretty on the mark.

Lupin sighed. “You see the problem.”

Harry did indeed see the problem. It was kind of glaring at him. “But Voldemort is still back! How do you deny that? What happens when people start dying again?”

“Voldemort doesn't waltz up to people’s front doors with militia,” Sirius reminded him. “He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He operates in secret, puts people under the imperious charm. And he has other plans as well that differ from getting people on his side.”
“What's he after apart from followers? Money? Power? He already has that.” Harry asked swiftly. He saw his godfather exchange a look with Lupin.

“Something he needs stealth for.”
Sirius sighed, making Harry feel very young indeed. “A weapon. Something new.”
ichigo raised his hand. “I swear, if you say the hogyoku I might actually punch something.”

The odd teen and the odd word were very much ignored.

“Like what kind of weapon?' said Harry. “Something worse than the Killing Curse?”

“Did anyone think of dodging it?” The orangehead mused.
“That's enough!” Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious. “ I want you in bed, now. All of you,” she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
“ichigo dear, you’ll be rooming with Ron and Harry, I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Ichigo bowed slightly. “Thank you so much.”
“You can't boss us around!” Fred argued.
“I’m your mother and I can boss my children around if I do please!”' snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. “You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.”
“Why not?” said Harry quickly. “I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight.”
“No.” It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin. “The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,” he said. “Wizards who have left school,” he added with the sole purpose of shutting Fred and George up. “There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.”

Ichigo groaned. “Kami! You are all idiots. You think this is a war? A bunch of middle aged wizards who only know how to fight with wands and cower at a name? Harry Potter. The boy who apparently defeated VoldyMoldy as a baby. He’s been involved in this and he still is, whether you like it or not, he’ll get involved. Trust me. As someone who got thrown into a war at the age of fifteen, I know what it’s like. You guys don’t. Our magical wars in japan? They aren’t like yours here. It’s not one nice killing curse, a death which could be called merciful . I’ve been experimented on. Stood on the front lines fighting and falling, only barely being healed and fighting again. I know what bloodlust is. Because fighting? It’s fun. I never learned to hold back because in fights it was always kill or be killed.
some of my enemies? After nearly killing each other, we became friends. I’ve decided Grimmjow’s obsession with trying to kill Me is simply a way of flirting. So you guys don’t understand. Harry? He’s faced this guy more than you have. Right?” Harry nodded. “He’s more involved than any of you. I rest my case.”

The room stared. Who the hell was this kid? Why was he here now?

“That May be true dear, but it doesn’t mean he should be. Now, off to bed with you!” Mrs Weasley planted her hands on her hips. “Now.”

Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.

Chapter Text

Ichigo strode up the staircase, trailing behind the other teenagers. He held the quiet opinion that these wizards were severely lacking in intelligence. Uryu would be horrified. So would Kisuke, when he thought about it. He sighed, missing the eccentric shopkeeper. Yoruichi purred in his shoulder, keeping the illusion of being a regular cat. He almost wished she wouldn’t. The Shihouin goddess of flash might gain unearthly levels of pleasure from tormenting him but she still cared.

He followed the soldier boy, Harry, the one he was supposed to keep an eye on, to the room. It was nice, if a bit dreary.

“So mate, which year are you going to be in?” The freckled boy, Ron, asked him.

Ichigo sighed, going over to the bed with his suitcases next to it. “Fifth year. I’m 16, but because of everything school wasn’t exactly a priority last year.” He stripped off his shirt. Modesty really wasn’t an issue for him anymore. Far too many battles had been fought in partially shredded shihakusho for him to really care about being shirtless. But he had forgotten. Being surrounded with warriors, he’d been used to everyone having scars. And he knew his weren’t pretty.

“Blimey….”

“Are those...scars?”

Well shit. Ichigo thought, they’ve never seen real scars before, have they.

……

Harry POV

Harry stared at the transfer student’s back. Oh my god… there were two straight, silvery scars on either side of his waist, layer of scars on his shoulders, what looked like a stab wound right through his chest, a giant round scar right where his stomach would be on the other side, and far more scars that he couldn’t catalogue.

“What?” Ichigo’s voice was flat.

“Did, did you get those in the war?”

The teen raised an eye at him. “Yes. Are you European wizards all this intelligent?”

Ron bristled. “Hey! Hermione is the brightest witch of her age! And Harry’s pretty smart too!” Well compared to some people. But you and I would completely suck without Hermione. Harry mentally sighed. “But hey mate...how did you get those? I mean those are some pretty kickass scars.”

Ichigo pierced him with a biting glare. “Fighting for my life. Now excuse me, I’d like to go to sleep.”

Harry turned to look at Ron, who shrugged. The two friends resolved to share the information with Hermione and discuss it later.

“Alright. G’night Ichigo.”

“Oyasumi Harry, Ron.”

The three boys got ready for bed with Ron claiming the shower first.

“I’ll shower in the morning.” Ichigo said, shrugging on an interesting robe. It was light green and open in the front on top of tan pair of wide pants. In Harry’s opinion, it looked like a skirt, but he decided he couldn’t judge. After all, European wizarding clothes were just as weird.

After they were all finished, they settled into their respective beds.

“Night.”

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

……

Harry was woken up from his odd dream involving bludgers, cauldron cakes, and Dumbledore singing about lemon drops by the sound of muffled screaming.

His eyes flew open and he tried to locate the source of the screaming. It didn’t take long.

The transfer student was curled up in a tight ball, tears running down his face.

“RUKIA!!! NO!! no...don’t hurt her! Please...please….Grimm no… run away...they’ll hurt you…. NO!!” The teen startled awake with the scream, shaking and hiding his face in his hands. “It’s okay...it’s okay...she’s alive….fuck…”

Harry furrowed his eyes. Who was this Rukia? His girlfriend? What had happened in this war?

“Why did Grimmjow have to do that...he could’ve gotten away…” he pressed his hands onto his eyes. “Fucking stupid blue haired flirt.”

Harry watched through the crack between his covers with interest as Ichigo sat up, fumbling for something. He was rifling through his bags - muggle suitcases, suspicious - quite frantically, a hand running through his seemingly always ruffled orange hair.

“Here it is, oh thank Kami.” He pulled out something which looked like a flip phone? The boy who lived blinked a few times, perplexed.

Ichigo moved towards the window as he dialed a number, settling on the edge. “Hey…Yeah this is me. I’m sorry to bother you, Kuchiki-taichou.”

Who’s that? And why does Kurosaki have a Muggle phone?? This doesn’t add up.

A faint hint of mirth flew to Ichigo’s eyes. “Central 46 being their stubborn-ass selves? Ah yes, I’m sure the elders are oh so daunting to the high and mighty head of the Kuchiki clan, Byakuya~” his voice was both taunting and teasing, one which Harry hadn’t heard yet from the apparently jaded teenager.

Kuchiki clan? Is that like when they say the high and noble house of Black? So ichigo knows nobles. Then why is he here?

“Fine, Yeah, I’m sorry…” ichigo shook his head. “Ugh you’re far too perceptive for me to let anything slide. How does Renji get away with anything under your command? Yeah yeah, I know. He doesn’t do anything stupid because he doesn’t want you getting up in arms about honor.”

And another name. His friends? But he said command...well I guess they were just in a war?

The transfer sighed. “Yeah…I didn’t just call you to tease...I just, I just..” He let out a shuddered breath and Harry all of a sudden felt ashamed of watching, as if he was intruding on a private moment. “I just really need someone right now…” the phrase passed through his lips as if torn from them, unnatural sounding. “You asked GetaBoushi to make a way to contact me, so I’m really sorry if I’m bothering you I’ll just hang up, I’m sure you’re really busy taichou…”

He held the phone to his ear, knees drawn in close to his chest. “I...arigatou...I just can’t stop thinking...how do you do it? Mask your emotions like that? When I close my eyes I can only see Grimmjow lying paralyzed, Rukia stabbed all the way through, Ulquiorra holding Orihime as if she was his pet, Aizen… Dammit I can’t forget anything byakuya...he’d always call me boy...ryoka boy, boy, boy, as if I wasn’t a person , someone capable of destroying him because to him, to a self-proclaimed god, I was nothing. Because he was right. Because I am. No kuchiki-taichou!! You don’t get to say that people care!!! Your own sister, my friend , hasn’t visited me. Nobody even thought about the consequences of sending a 16 year old war veteran back to his regular ole life with no contact now did they.” He laughed bitterly, listening to the end of the line. “Thought so. Byakuya…I don’t know how to do this. This people here, they’re idiots. And my dreams keep getting worse and I can’t feel them I can’t feel them I can’t feel them I Can’t Feel Them I CANT FEEL THEM!” The teen shook back and forth, “I can’t, I can’t feel them . They’re gone Byakuya. Kami knows Shiro infuriated the hell out of me, but he and Ossan were always there for me.” His reflection was visible in the window, showing Harry a face with eyes far older than they should be for someone his age. He shuddered to think what a dementor would do to the teen.

“Imagine, imagine if you did something and all of a sudden Senbonzakura was ripped away from you, along with all your power. It’s even worse than that.” Tears fell down Ichigo’s face. “I’m really sorry for bothering you taichou. Give my regards to everyone? I really, really miss them…” and with that, the boy fell asleep, curled up on the window sill.

And for the life of him, Harry could remember no more, except for the shimmering outline of a man with long dark hair, black robes with a white overcoat, and something in his hair, which hovered over Ichigo while shooting Harry a glare and pressing a finger to his lips.

All the young wizard knew was that when he woke up, ichigo was back in his bed and, a cherry blossom rested on the window.

Chapter Text

The days were spent in a bustle, with much cleaning and homework. It had become a common sight to see the young transfer student meditating on tall pieces of furniture (with no one quite sure how he got there). He had so far been compared to a cat, quite hilariously as the teen’s pet often occupied his lap, and had nearly leapt at people’s faces for said comparison. Ichigo had proved to be an enigma, one that the Weasley twins took to with glee. It turned out that the orange head had a penchant for causing mischief, and they were wondering if he was their long lost Japanese triplet (even though that was impossible). The other occupants were starting to wonder if he was insane. He and Sirius had seemed to develop a friendship, one consisting of sarcasm and dark humor. Hermione has tried to corner the boy to ask questions, but he tended to flee, yelling, ‘I’ll tell you later! At school!’. When he wasn’t meditating, cleaning, or helping the Weasley matriarch cook, he was seen with a sketchbook and writing instrument, drawing something or another. A tall young man with long dark hair, a trio of friends -two boys and a girl -, a man with an odd hat (identified as Ichigo’s mentor) with a beautiful (and busty) young woman, and a collection of very odd people (including a man with a skeletal jaw mask) tended to pop up in what little the occupants of Grimmauld place had seen of the drawings. Often there was also a young woman with short dark hair and violet eyes. The golden trio wanted to ask, but he was quite skilled at avoiding their questions.

On the very last day of the holidays Ron walked into their shared room, carrying two envelopes.

“Booklists have arrived,” he announced, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. Ichigo was perched on the dresser and looked up.

“I think I already got mine.”

Harry nodded and went to open his letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year.
“Only two new ones,” he said, reading the list, “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk, and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard.”
A loud crack! Sounded through the air.
Fred and George Apparated into the room, only barely evading a flying kick from Ichigo, who had leapt off the dresser and only changed his direction when he realized who it was.
“We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book.” Fred smirked, shaking his head.
“Because that means Dumbledore's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” said George, “ we think he was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.
“Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?” said George.
“Huh?” Ichigo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Why would it be so hard to find a teacher? He chuckled, mentally picturing Kisuke as the teacher. Those kids wouldn’t even last a day. “What happened to them?”

“One was sacked, one dead, one's memory got removed, and one locked the real teacher in a trunk for nine months while pretending to be him.” Harry shrugged, “not an enviable position. People think it’s cursed.”

“Cursed eh? Tch.” The teen scratched his neck. Hmm...I’ll get Yoruichi to take a look at it. Maybe she and GetaBoushi will know. Ugh, wasn’t this supposed to be a vacation from stuff? He shook his head, ugh they know me too well. Thank Kami this won’t be too boring then. Hopefully.
His attention was then drawn to the youngest Weasley. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.
“What's the matter?” Fred asked his brother impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

His mouth dropped. “Prefect? Oh my god George. Little Ronnikins is a prefect???”
The fuck are they talking about? Ichigo peered at the letter as well. A school honor? Probably a British thing.

“There's been a mistake,” George snatched the letter out of Ron's grasp and held it up to the light as if checking for a watermark. “No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.”

“Hey!” The boy protested.

“Che,” ichigo scoffed. “Sure he’s not the ‘boy who lived’ but I’m sure he’s done some impressive stuff. Often the most powerful are the most overlooked.” He commented, thinking of Orihime. He missed her… he couldn’t deny that. Even though her crush on him was embarrassingly large, she was still his friend. And that made it hurt even more. Why did they distance themselves...they alienated me…

“ well yeah, but we really thought it’d be Harry!” Fred looked at the boy in a betrayer manner. “You’re not trying to trick us, are you?”
“We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!” George exclaimed. “Prefect ... ickle Ronnie the prefect…who would’ve thought?”
“Oh, Mum's going to be revolting,” groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.
“you guys do realize I have no idea what’s going on?”

“Oh, sorry Strawberry!”

Ichigo bristled, glaring at them. “It means one who protects!!! Not strawberry!”

“Sureeee.” Fred drawled. “Prefects like Ronnie here are upstanding students! Those who follow the rulessss . Disgusting aren’t thy? Giving out detentions and all.”

Ichigo chuckled. “Oh they’d hate my friends and I! We skipped class so often Sensei just gave up trying to stop us. I swear Orihime kept coming up with even crazier stories just to confuse her. I think one caused Uryu to have an aneurism once.”

They blinked at him. “You, sir, are our new hero.”

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large 'P' was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion.

“Hey.” Ichigo appeared by the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t get your briefs in a twist just cause you aren’t a prefect. Think of it this way. You can get away with more things and have more freedom. If you were one of these, you’d have to follow the rules to the letter.” He sighed, scratching his neck in a posture of nonchalance. “And sometimes the rules are wrong. In those cases, you get to break them and fix them.” He chuckled bitterly. “And hopefully you won’t reveal corruption. Or actually, hopefully you do. Just try not to die! It’ll be fun!”

Harry looked at him as if he was insane, which honestly, he probably was. “But why didn’t?? I mean I’m happy for Ron, I really am, but…”

“You feel like it should be you.” Ichigo shook his head. “Take it as it is.”

The boy who lived nodded, trying to take in the information and handing Ron back the badge. It was in that moment that Hermione burst in.

“Ron! Harry!! I’m a prefect! Oh!” She spotted the badge. “Ronald! You’re a prefect? Wow! I never thought - I mean, I’m so happy for you! We’ll be prefects together!”

The former Substitute Shinigami saw Harry’s face drop and sighed. He’ll get over it. He’s what these people are relying on, idiotically. He can’t get consumed in jealousy. He got it. It would be hard for the boy to be the only one in the trio who wasn’t a prefect, but he’d manage.

“Yo.” He tried to get their attention. “Isn’t it about time for dinner? I’m sure Mrs Weasley will be delighted to hear the news.”

The twins looked at him incredulously, Hermione’s face lit up, and Ron looked torn between happiness and shock.

“Oh no. She’ll throw a real fuss.”

Fred smirked, realizing what ichigo was up to. “Oh yes she will!”

Chapter Text

It was later that day when Ichigo encountered a boggart for the first time. He had read about them of course, they starred in two of his textbooks, but he hadn’t dwelt on them anymore than realizing their potential for danger. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that one might be in the house.

So when he entered the drawing room, faced with a sobbing Mrs Weasley, he didn’t know what to think. On the floor in front of her was a mangled body. Ron’s body.

What? That can’t be! I just saw him! Well…at least it’s not as bad as it could’ve been…

He walked forward, meaning to comfort the woman when she pointed her wand at the body.

“Ri-riddikulous..” the body changed into that of her husband and she sobbed even harder.

What...what is happening...is this some kind of hollow??

Ichigo rushed in front of her, confronting the shapeshifter. “What are you!? Answer me! I’ll destroy you!”

“With what power?”

Ichigo froze. He knew that voice. Far too well. Far far too well. He felt a hand on his cheek. “Poor boy, there’s no way you can defeat me. I am a god. And you’re just a ryoka.” The word rolled off his tongue. “Oh,” fake sympathy oozed like poison through his tone. “Can’t you see? You never got away from me~” it almost felt as if someone was breathing on his cheek, hand carresing his neck as if he was a possession.

The redhead shivered. “No, no you’re gone you’re gone you’re gone!”

“Didn’t you realize? None of that is real. You’re still here, with me. You never left~ and nobody is ever coming for you~ They don't care about you. And those who did? They're all dead~ by your own hands~ And Grimmjow? I tore him apart, piece by piece. Oh how little Neliel screamed. You'd think she actually cared about her fraccion with how distraught she was when I killed them!" The Boggart circled him, voice as syrupy as molasses. It was as if he was right in his ear, hands trailing down him, chains around him, no no NO!

Ichigo looked up into the eyes of Aizen Sōsuke. “No. No. They're alive! This isn’t real!!! This isn't real this isn't real this isn't real! You're defeated! You failed! You're not real this isn't real, it can't be it can't be it can't be!” He clutched at his head, breathing harshly as the memories burst their way to the surface.

“Oh but it is~  you see—“

He was cut off by a scream of “RIDDIKULOUS!” From one Remus Lupin and the image of Aizen transformed into an ethereal image of the moon.

Ichigo stood petrified. “What...what was that?”

Remus and Molly turned to him, concern for the boy clear in their eyes. “That was a boggart, ichigo.” Lupin explained softly, “it shows you your greatest fear.”

Ah...well that would explain it. But it felt so real… he shook himself, trying to bring himself back to reality. It was harder without Shiro and Zangetsu grounding him. Because if I was still there, I’d failed and all whom I loved would be dead. And I’d still be there…

“Was that...was that something from the war you were in?” Molly asked him quietly. He nodded. “Oh honey…” she surrounded him in a hug, warm and comforting, the like of which he rarely got. “I’m sorry…”

Ichigo indulged himself in the hug before pulling away. “It’s alright...are you getting rid of that thing?”

“Oh yes, don’t you worry about a thing, alright?”

He nodded. “I’m going to go pack, if that’s alright. I know we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Of course!” The matriarch of the Weasley family gave him another hug before letting him go. “And rest alright? You better not catch cold!”

He bowed slightly. “Hai!”

Hermione POV

Hermione’s eyes widened and she quickly went back to knitting to avoid detection by the transfer student. She’d seen the entire scene and she had to say, Kurosaki’s boggart made her incredibly uncomfortable.

“Oh, hey Hermione.”

“Hello! Don’t mind me! I’m knitting hats for the house elves at Hogwarts! I’m the head of SPEW you know, working for better treatment of them. It’s so horrible!”

Ichigo blinked, once, twice, before shaking his his head a little and nodding in acknowledgment. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it then.”

As soon as he left, the brilliant young witch leapt up to go find her friends.

“Harry! Ron!”

“Huh? Oh hey ‘Mione!” Ron turned towards her, holding a headless chocolate frog in one hand.

“You won’t believe what I just saw!” I hardly even know what to make of it myself!

“Yes?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “And what is it? You can’t just say things like that and leave us hanging.”

She sat herself down on one of the chairs — a nice red plush one with a lovelily embroidered pillow on it — looking intently at them through wisps of her curly brown hair. “I saw Kurosaki’s boggart.”

“I’m sorry what?” Harry looked at her with barely concealed interest. Since boggart were your worst fears, they told a lot about a person.

“There was a boggart in the dressing room. You know, the one Mrs Weasley talked to Mad-eye about?” At their nods, she continued. “Well Mrs Weasley was having trouble, and Ichigo, not knowing what it was, stepped in.” She paused for a second.

“Alright, and what was it?” Ron asked impatiently.

“Honestly Ronald! I was getting to that!” She sighed. “As I was saying, Kurosaki stepped in, so it morphed to his fear. Harry...Ron...it spoke. It was this young and rather handsome man honestly, and he was talking to Ichigo about how none of this was real and he’d never ever left. He was stroking Ichigo’s cheek. It was really disturbing..I didn’t even know a boggart could do that.”

Harry pat her shoulder awkwardly. “Hey, I’m sure he’ll be okay.” His voice was uncertain, but Hermione decided to accept the attempt at comfort.

“He said it was something from the war. It, it really shook him up. I think..I think he was a POW.”

“A what?” Ron asked, mouth full of chocolate.

“A prisoner of war.” Harry’s eyes were serious. “They talk about them on the muggle news. Sometimes the Dursleys watch it. They generally turn it off though. Don’t want to expose their precious Duddykins to such dark material.”

“They’re often tortured.” Hermione explained. “Waterboarded, tortures for information, kept in prisons. I don’t even want to know what happened to him...it sounds like he was tortured and gaslighted. Made to question reality.”

“Oh..” Ron shared a glance with Harry. “That might explain his scars.”

“Scars?” Well he was in a war, but many spells don’t leave scars? Unless they were meant to…

“Yeah. A lot of scars ‘Mione.”

“We have a lot to tell you. And he has really bad nightmares too..”

And with this, the golden trio started discussing their findings, completely oblivious to the golden eyed black cat eyeing them with thinly veiled disgust.

Chapter Text

The day soon came that ichigo and the horde of young wizards made their way to Hogwarts via platform 9 ¾. The existence of said platform had Ichigo spluttering, because it was right there! What if someone fell in??? Obviously nonwizards with magical children could get in! But when he voiced his concerns to Mrs Weasley, she waved them off with a,

“Don’t be silly dear! Muggles wouldn’t go in unless their children were attending!”

At this, Yoruichi had given her a less than impressed stare and stretched out on Ichigo’s shoulders, clawing him.

He sighed. “Yeah yeah, I’ll give you attention. You’re having way too much fun with this aren’t you.” He addressed the cat lady, rolling his eyes. She hissed and dug her nails in. “Gah!!! Crazy cat!”

She twisted into his reiatsu. Ichigo, breathe.

He did so, calmly walking with his bags into the magical wall. The Weasley twins had run into it, and so had the others.

“Are you excited?” Tonks asked him, hair a bubblegum pink. It reminded the former substitute shinigami of Yachiru.

“Yeah.” He said, surprising himself with how true it was. “I actually am.”

“Any idea what house?”

He shrugged. “They all seem to fit. I don’t get the whole house rivalry the others are spewing. The whole idea honestly seems segregated and stupid.”

She clapped his back and laughed. “I like you kid. I’ll miss you.”

He smiled a little at her. “Thanks Tonks. I’ll miss you too. If GetaBoushi contacts you, try to reign him in okay? My teachers are insane.”

“He’s a mad scientist right?”

“Hai.”

“You’ll have fun with the potions Professor. Most people hate him! He’s the head of slytherin, but if you actually appreciate potions, it’s possible to get on his good side.”

“Are Harry, Ron, and Hermione on his good side?”

Tonks stifled a chuckle. “Oh quite the opposite.”

Ichigo shook his head, “antagonizing teachers? The horror!” A true but small smile graced his face. “Thank you so much Tonks.”

“It’s no problem Ichigo! Now off you go! Don’t want the train to leave without you!”

“Hai!” Ichigo bowed quickly to her. “Ja Ne!” He ran to the train, hefting his bags with ease. Before long he stumbled into a compartment filled with Harry, Ginny, another boy about their age and a blonde girl with odd glasses utop her head.

She looked up, viewing Ichigo. “Oh, hello. You seem to be oddly clear of wrakspurts. Is it because of your awareness? Or prior exposure?”

He blinked a couple times. “Um, probably exposure? I’m not very aware currently.” He was a little shellshocked. Was this girl talking about the spiritual world? And what in the world are wrakspurts??? He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. A magical creature probably, dumbass. His internal dialogue still sounded heart wrenchingly like Shiro. He doubted it ever wouldn’t.

“Oh I’m so sorry! That must be painful. I’m Luna. Luna lovegood. Most people call me loony lovegood because they think I’m crazy.” She told him, reading her magazine upside down.

“Well that’s not very nice of them.” Ichigo sat down next to her. “I’m ichigo. It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad to finally meet a European wizard who is actually sane.”

The others in the compartment gave him looks as if he was from another universe, which he guessed he kind of was, in a way.

Harry sighed dramatically. The kid was too dramatic in Ichigo’s opinion. Less sighing and more training would do him some good. Then he could be as melodramatic as he likes. “Ron and Hermione are in the prefects carriage. They said they’d find us eventually. How’re you doing Neville?” He asked, addressing the other teen.

“I’m good! Nan got me a present! And it’s not a remembrall this time!” He pulled out an odd looking plant, a bit reminiscent of a cactus. “It’s a mimbulus mimbultonia!” He said, looking at the small plant in awe. Ichigo couldn’t help but smile a little at the enthusiasm. “It does a lot of things! And if you poke it here —“ he did so and was cut off by it shooting an odd black goo all over them.

It was at this instant that a teen— a girl this time (or at least ichigo presumed they were a girl)— opened the compartment door. “Harry! I just wanted to say hi!....this doesn’t seem to be the best moment though…” she waved an awkward goodbye.

Harry sighed once again. “If only Cho had come a moment sooner…”

“Who was that?” Ichigo asked, still covered in goop. “And this stuff isn’t poisonous, is it?”

“That was Harry’s girlfriend, Cho. Well, crush.” Ginny explained wisely. “And don’t worry, this is easy to get rid of.” She quickly cast a spell to clean it up off of them. “There.”

“Thanks Ginny.” Neville said sheepishly. It does other things too really. I wasn’t expecting that and I’m really sorry!”

“It’s alright.” Ichigo nodded at him, reminded of his friends. “It’s nice to meet you Neville.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“So Kurosaki, what house do you think you’ll be in?” Harry asked, leaning forward. Ichigo could tell that the boy looked a little sad at not being around Ron and Hermione.

“I really don’t know.” The strawberry-blond scratched his neck. “Most would probably say I’m a gryffindor but I think hufflepuff or slytherin.”

Ginny, Neville, and Harry stared at him. “Slytherin??” Harry asked incredulously.

Well yeah. I mean I’ll do anything. Literally anything to achieve my goals.. “yeah. Protective of their own, will do anything to achieve their goals, ambitious. You know, slytherins and gryffindors seems to be two sides of the same coin. I really don’t get the rivalry. It’s stupid. Idiotic. Just like—“ just like the Quincy and shinigami… “just like any prejudice. That’s what it is. Prejudice, segregation, and setting children against each other from a young age. That can be fatal. Those you think are your enemies could be your greatest allies.”

“That your experience?” The boy-who-lived asked. Ichigo nodded, sending the boy the message that yes, this was his experience from war.

Yoruichi purred quietly, feeling Ichigo’s heartbeat speed up at the discussion of war. The boy scratched her neck, thankful. He really didn’t want to have an attack. Especially not in front of so many people.

Thank Kami for Yoruichi and GetaBoushi.

“Yeah. But who knows? I don’t even know how sorting works.”

Ginny giggled. “Don’t listen to my brothers. They always spread the rumor that you have to fight a troll.”

“Aww you don’t?” Ichigo pouted. “But that’d be fun!”

“Uh mate?” Neville looked at him with wide eyes, “Are you insane?”

Ichigo shrugged, a dangerous grin on his face. “Yep!”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t too long until they reached Hogwarts. Sometime during the ride Hermione and Ron has joined them in the compartment, complaining about some guy named Malfoy. From the description, the rivalry seemed similar to Ichigo’s with Uryu, so he really didn’t get the big deal. (And said as much.)

“So this guy has been raised since birth to be prejudiced against you and instead of showing him he’s wrong you just fine him more material to work with?” The strawberry asked, earning himself even more odd looks.

By the time they’d gotten into their robes, (still a fashion disaster), and the train had stopped, ichigo had managed to gain confused and or horrified looks from all in the compartment except for Luna. Said girl had cheerfully told him he had an aura that smelt of cherry blossoms surrounding him. He’d waved it off, saying his wand was cherrywood, but the whole situation had made him a bit of a blushing mess. I smell like Byakuya? Gah I’m acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Geeze. It’s not like I haven’t kissed anyone before . Why the hell am I swooning over him?

As the train came to a halt, all screeches and mechanical noises clashing with the magical air surrounding everything. Ichigo breathed it in, feeling the dizzyingly blissful power of it as it flowed through him as if he was a conduit for the currents of this electrifying energy.

The screeching was the cue for much hassle as everyone bundled off the train.

“FIRST YEARS THIS WAY! FIRST YEARS THIS WAY!” A voice called out piercing through the crowds.

“Huh? Where’s hagrid?” Harry sounded confused.

“Hagrid?” Ichigo raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Care of Magical Creatures teacher and our friend. He’s usually the one bringing the first years to the castle. That’s not him.”

“Evidently.”

Ichigo decided to follow those he knew instead of the first years. Hopefully it wasn’t some grave mistake, but he figured he should go with those his year. At the end of the path he stopped in his tracks.

“What...what are those?” He heard Harry ask. The boy who lived seemed shocked.

“What’re what mate?” Ron asked.

“Those things, pulling the carriages?”

The ex substitute shinigami understood his shock. Batwinged skeletal horses were pulling the carriages, looking far too much like hollows for comfort. They weren’t. He knew that, but those wings..they reminded him far too much of Ulquiorra.

Get a grip on yourself..

“What are you talking about, Harry? There’s nothing pulling the carriages. Never have been.” Hermione looked at her friend quizzically. “Are you feeling quite alright?”

“Yeah. Nevermind.”

“I can see them too.” Luna told him dreamily. “So you’re just as mad as I am.”

Seeing how absolutely wonderful a job that did at reassuring the kid, ichigo went over to him. “I can see them too. It’s not just you.”

“Ah…”

He knew he’d probably just fueled his own ‘mysteriousness’ in the suspicious and nosy ongoings of the golden trio, but honestly he couldn’t care less.

The castle was approaching. It was nothing like he had ever seen before, spires and towers, darkness and flickering lights. It was, well, magical — for lack of a better word.

“Wow…”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that was my reaction too. It’s really something, isn’t it?”

“So des…”

He pulled out the flip phone and took a picture of the castle, sending it to Byakuya. I wonder if he’d like it or hate it?

“Excuse me, Ichigo Kurosaki?”

“Eh?” He looked up to see a stern looking woman peering down through her glasses at him. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Come this way, will you?”

“Hai.” He bowed and got out of the carriage, joining her.

“I am Professor McGonagall, transfiguration Professor, head of gryffindor house and deputy headmistress here at Hogwarts. As you are a new student, you must be sorted. I assume you have been filled in on the four houses?”

Ichigo nodded. “Hai. Although the house rivalry is not something I abide by.”

The Professor regarded him with interest. “Is that so? Interesting. Now,” she led him to a giant set of ornate doors, each about thrice his height. “Wait here until I call your name. You will be sorted after the first years. Understood?”

“Hai.” He nodded and bowed, traditional sensibilities taking over. “Thank you, McGonagall-Sensei.”

She seemed a bit surprised to be named such, and smiled a little. “I do hope you’ll be in Gryffindor, Mr. Kurosaki. I do believe we’ll get along. But any which way, I’ll still see you in transfiguration.”

“I look forward to it.”

The professor nodded and walked away, presumably to gather the first years.

Ichigo sat himself down against the wall, hoping that everything either would, or wouldn’t go awry. Everything has been so boring. But I want to fit...at least a little. Ugh, it’s stupid, but I miss the Soul Society.” He tapped his shoe to the beat of a song stuck in his head, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Suddenly, from inside the room, he heard his voice.

“Kurosaki, Ichigo.”

He threw open the doors, hands in his pockets and a smirk set on his face. Always one to make a grand entrance .

He saw the hat upon the stool at the head off the Great Hall, and, correctly guessing that he needed to put it on, he strolled up to it and put it on.

Oh! Well that’s interesting~

Ichigo stiffened, hearing a voice in his head for the first time in almost 2 years.

You’re protected, aren’t you Mr Kurosaki.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Sure you don’t. Now, mr Ex-shinigami—

‘You know who I am?? How??’

‘I’m a mind reading hat. Well, I read memories and souls and I can hear you. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I keep your secrets.’

He relaxed slightly.

Now that’s interesting as well~ you’re extremely loyal. To a fault I’d say, but your ambition knows no bounds. You’re so close to who your enemy was, aren’t you~ lonely, powerful, dangerously smart. But so far from him as well. You have this strong moral code but it’s so different than others’. You’d do anything, anything to achieve your goals. You make the impossible happen. Now, on the surface you appear to be a Gryffindor, but that’s not quite right is it.

‘No...it isn’t..’

You’re not foolishly brave, you’re foolishly loyal to your own. But you know when to let go. You know when you can’t only be a good person, you need to take matters into your own hands. And what’s this? Your mentors and your little crush.

Ichigo growled.

Fine, not a little crush. You’re not that basic. But all three, cunning, smart, manipulative, and you are so much like them~ I think the choice is obvious. You have two options, Mr Ex-Shinigami, and before you go, I have some information for you~

‘Information? What do you know?’

You have protection here in your mind~ they’re locked away, but it’s all there.

Ichigo could’ve sobbed in joy at that. ‘You know my choice. It’s been evident I think, from the very beginning.’

In that case…..

“SLYTHERIN!”

Ichigo tore off the hat, beaming, and sauntered over to the green house, and catching Luna’s eye at the blue one.

Chapter Text

Ichigo sat down, leisurely lounging on the bench. Everyone around him was cheering and screaming, which honestly sounded vaguely like battle cries. It was comforting.

A white blonde teen leaned towards him slightly, hand outstretched. “I’m Malfoy. Draco malfoy. Prefect of Slytherin house. And you?”

Ichigo noted that this was the boy the trio had been complaining about. Hmm. He obviously is very proud of his name. Reminds me of Uryū. “Kurosaki ichigo.” He said, shaking the proffered hand. On an impulse, judging that the boy was quite fond of status, he continued. “Well, Shiba Ichigo, if we’re going technical. My father took my mother’s name.”

“How...interesting.”

Oops. Okay, think ichigo, think.   “The Shiba family is one of the high noble families. However, my father met my mother whom he thought was mundane—“

“Mundane?”

Ichigo waved him off. “I dislike the word muggle and we don’t use it in Japan. So, turns out she’s actually from a branch of the Ishida family. They are very pureblood and pride themselves on it. Different type of respected family though. Their magic is a bit different. But yeah. So, my father stayed with her and took her last name, Kurosaki. His niece, my cousin, is the head of the Shiba family now.”

Malfoy nodded. “My father is the head of the Malfoy house. We’re of the Ancient house of black.”

Ichigo internally smirked. He’d played him like a fiddle. “Well it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. Now, you’re a transfer student, correct? Father says you’re not from the main school. I must say, I am intrigued.”

“Oh no, I’m from a private school.” I’m completely pulling this out of my ass “The Japanese magic and spirit community recently had a war. My school is one which trains its students to protect people, magical or mundane. Because of this, most didn’t know that a war was going on, but those who are essential our Aurors suffered many deaths.”

“I didn’t hear of a war.” The teen was sharp, ichigo had to give it to him, but it was infuriating.

“That’s because we did a lot to keep people safe. But an entire town disappeared for a while, everyone was knocked unconscious, and then it reappeared. Karakura town. It was because it was the front lines of the war at that time and we needed to protect the civilians. But that’s beside the point. My school is pretty small. Personally, I have two mentors. Shihouin yoruichi and Urahara kisuke. They’re absolutely brilliant, extremely powerful, terrifyingly incredible and magic, and absolutely insane. As in, she’s a crazy cat lady who we all thought was a damn cat for months because she’d never transformed back to human when we were around, and he’s a literal mad scientist. Plus magic. It’s terrifying but I love them.”

Draco listened intently. This school sounded extremely different from hogwarts, but incredible. It seemed to break the rules in ways his father would never approve of. “What’s it called?”

Ichigo minutely stiffened, thinking hard. Gah I miss Ossan and Shiro! Especially in times like this. “Shinhana academy.” He blurted out. Huh. Death flower. That’s actually pretty fitting.

Malfoy nodded. “Pretty secretive, is it?”

Ichigo looked into his eyes, meeting the challenge. Here was one in a kindred spirit to Ishida. Quick as a whip, with a tongue of steel and years of prejudice taught to him. “Quite. You won’t find it in any records.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Yama O-jii, Yamamoto that is, our headmaster, is very diligent about these things.”

Their eyes met, gold challenging steely grey, one ever so slightly from the grey eyes of another noble. A small smile stretched across ichigo’s lips as Malfoy raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. The former substitute shinigami smirked.

“Now, what's this I hear about a war?” He lounged, one leg over the other.

Malfoy wasn’t even phased. “Ah, that. The dark lord has returned. The idiots in the ministry and anyone who reads the Prophet think Potter and Dumbledore are just making it up. They’re idiots. The headmaster may be loony and Potter is Potter, but they aren’t lying.”

“I’m going to go on a limb and assume this Dark Lord is Voldy?”

The boy’s expression was so hilarious that Ichigo almost cracked up. Eyes bugged out, eyebrows drawn up incredulously, it was amazing. “Voldy??”

“Yep. his name means Flight of Death. It’s ridiculous. I mean I’m not one who can judge - my own name means One Protector, but also means strawberry. But since his whole premise is ridiculous, I decided to shorten his name.”

Draco looked affronted. “Excuse me? The dark lord is powerful and right. Mudbloods shouldn’t be wizards. We purebloods have actual magic, unlike those worms.”

“Uh uh uh uh, I’d be careful about that thinking if I were you. Those born of mundanes actually have purer magic. Don’t interrupt, listen to me. Because they are the first in their line with magic, it hasn’t been diluted through generations.” He shook his head, “You really should meet Ishida. Pride filled bastard, but he’s also my cousin. We didn’t know that at first. Hated each other actually, just because of who we were. Because of my type of magic, he hated me. There had been a civil war 200 years ago, you see. Those who wielded my mother’s branch of magic were almost completely wiped out. Because they were were disrupting the balance.”

“What? How can that happen?”

“War.”

“But… when the dark lord was first in power, he didn’t even come close to wiping out mudbloods.”

Ichigo slammed his fists onto the table. “Have you been listening to what I’m saying? Kami you’re just like Potter-san. I assume that you’re essentially being forced to be his counterpart, am I right? This war will be painful and pointless, and none of you are prepared.”

Wow, really snapped there, didn’t you? The words rang through his head. It hurt, how much his inner voice sounded like Shiro.

The white-blonde gaped at him. “Well then. And if we do an exchange?”

“Hrm?”

“I give you information on the state of the european wizarding war, and you prepare me for this war.” the smirk on his lips showed the intellect hiding behind the bluster and prejudice.

“Sounds good.”

“Shake on it?”

Ichigo nodded, extending his hand. They shook firmly. Their whispered conversation had certainly had an impact on the young wizard and it showed.

“Now quiet. I think your Sensei is about to speak.”

Chapter Text

They had all finished eating, plates laden with food significantly depleted. Ichigo sighed. He’d enjoyed the food, but it was much too rich for him. Japanese cooking was generally lighter and healthier than British cooking, it seemed. It made him miss Yuzu and her cooking. His sister took after his mother in so many ways, including her warm and comforting cooking.

During the meal, Ichigo had been talked at by quite a few of his house-mates -- friends of Malfoy, it seemed. Pansy Parkinson had seemed stuck up, but overly curious. Crabbe and Goyle were two whom the teen couldn’t understand how they could be so unintelligent. They seemed to base all of their opinions off of Malfoy’s, never thinking for themselves. Not all of the Slytherin table was annoying however. A blonde named Daphne seemed nice enough and Blaise Zabini seemed to have a similar sense of sass and dry humor to the ex-substitute shinigami.

Their attention was drawn with a ringing noise coming from the head table.

“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,” The headmaster  -- Dumbdoor , Ichigo’s brain supplied -- rose to his feet, magnificent robes which defied all the laws of fashion drawing the eye. “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.” He pointedly glanced towards the Gryffindor table, causing Malfoy and Ichigo to chuckle. Oh I’m going to have fun breaking these rules. “Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time,”

“I counted!” was heard quietly, making Ichigo almost choke on laughter.

“to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very 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 Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. “

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Draco looked apprehensive. “That oaf Hagrid isn’t teaching? Odd.” he turned to Ichigo, “He might be a clumsy idiot, but his classes are interesting. I hope this woman is interesting at least.”

Ichigo nodded. “And the pink toad?”

Draco chuckled. “Probably the most apt description given ever. That’s madame Umbridge, possible the most horrendous woman i’ve ever met, and I know my aunt.”

The other boy nodded solemnly. “Truly a bold statement.”

“She’s not just into blood purity; she’s into no magical creatures, no hybrids--” ichigo stiffened, and I’m about as hybrid as it gets… “-- everyone has to be the norm, and we’ve all got to follow the ministry. Father agrees that it’s a load of shit, but that we have to stay on her goodside. My great-grandmother was a veela, and we don’t want news of that going to her.”

“Yeah I bet. Waiiiiitttt… if you’re part Veela, does that mean all the guys, gals, and nonbinary pals are after you?”

He bonked his head against the table, “Don’t remind me. Luckily, Potter accidently directs them towards him and I just scare off everybody else.”

Ichigo smirked, chin resting on his hand. Rivalry? Hmm I wonder if I could play matchmaker? I think I did a pretty good job with Inoue and Ishida. Hmmm.

Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the–”

He broke off, looking questioningly at the pink amphibian lady. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat with a high pitched and highly annoying, “Hem, hem,” and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout’s eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall’s mouth was as thin as anyone had seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts. The slytherins leaned in. Many of them disliked Dumbledore, but they also liked tradition; this woman was not following tradition.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” She simpered, tone painfully sugary sweet, “‘for those kind words of welcome. “ Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish.

As she surveyed the room, Ichigo glared into her eyes, muttering “You give pink a bad name. Honestly, if you’re going to wear it, at least be badass like Kyoraku-taichou or Rangiku-san.”

She gave another little throat-clearing cough (“hem, hem”) and continued. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

Ichigo grimaced. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old. Personally, he greatly wished to spring up across the table and rip her throat out for addressing him as such. Unbeknownst to him, his scalera darkened a tad, before becoming normal again.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!”

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

“I’ll be her friend as long as I don’t have to borrow that cardigan,” Pansy whispered to Daphne and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again (‘hem, hem’), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike, voice dull, as if the lines had been practiced tons of times. Probably in front of a mirror while admiring her reflection, Ichigo thought, She seems like the type.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching. “

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall’s dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Ichigo distinctly noted her exchanging a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little ‘hem, hem’ and went on with her speech.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . . “

Ichigo tried to keep his focus, but his mind was too busy poking fun at every line the woman said to actually listen fully. The quiet that had filled the Hall was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Only a few were listening, eyes looking glazed over.

“Is granger-san the only one paying attention?” Ichigo asked malfoy quietly. “Besides us I mean.”

He nodded, not moving his gaze from the woman. “At least the mudblood is showing more intellect than the others. Madame Umbridge is dangerous. She is more prejudiced than the dark lord yet too much of a coward to kill anyone. However, she is an influential member of the Ministry.”

Ichigo nodded, listening carefully.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. A full-scale riot probably could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech.  “ . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” he said, bowing to her. “Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . . “

Ichigo turned to the noble boy sitting next to him. “Well fuck.”

“Agreed.”

“She has weird charisma. What she’s saying on the surface sounds reasonable, but…”

“Subtext. I told you. The ministry is a bunch of idiots. Dumbledore is a muggle loving idiot, but the ministry are just full on idiots.”

“And you’re a muggleborn hating idiot, but we won’t hold it against you.” Ichigo added with a teasing grin. He chuckled at the flabbergasted look on the boy’s face.

“I-- how rude!”

“Yep.”

“Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“Nope.”

“And you say you’re a noble??”

“Mmhm. one of the most respected and most insane families.”

Malfoy looked as if he might faint. “Alright then. I’m sure my father would love to meet the head of your house.”

Now it was Ichigo’s turn to almost faint. He sweatdropped. “Oh goodness…. Kukaku or my dad? They’re both equally insane. I hear it’s a Shiba thing. Probably my dad though. Luckily they can be serious when they need to be.”

Malfoy nodded weakly. “I do believe I must go and show our newest students -- that means you Kurosaki! -- to the common room. Shall we?”

“We shall.” Ichigo shook his head fondly. He was going to have a blast torturing this school. The teen already had a plan to break down barriers and prepare the kids for the coming war. This’ll be funnnn.

“First year Slytherins! Follow me!”

Chapter Text

The slytherin common room was unlike anything Ichigo had ever seen before. Green-tinted lanterns flooded the room with dim light, Leather couches and tall bar stool littered the area, and a gorgeous and ornate fireplace stood encircled by furniture, containing brilliant emerald flames. The entire room had a classy illegal bar feel, which was honestly kind of comforting. Windows were inlaid in the walls, looking out into the depths of the lake.

“Our room is this way, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo nodded and followed malfoy down a winding staircase, passing 2 floors before getting off.

“You’ll be rooming with Zabini, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and I. The other fifth year boy’s dorms are down the hallway.”

Ichigo almost gasped as he stepped into the room, thoroughly unused to the luxury which awaited his eyes. The beds were four poster, the curtains of which being deep emerald velvet.

“Wow..” At Malfoy’s puzzled expression, he continued. “At my school,” In the Seireitei  “we sleep on futon and the rooms don’t have many furnishings. Japan is much more minimalistic.”

“Ah. I see. Well, I’m sure that during your stay we’ll be able to show you the superiority of great Britain.”

The red-head looked at him flatly. “In Japan, It is also impolite to insult one’s culture.”

The rich boy shivered. “I shall endeavour to not cross such lines again.”

“Do so. I’m going to sleep.”

He stripped off his shirt, hung up his robes, and pulled the special phone out of his bag. Before getting in bed, He reverently traced the design on the badge which he still -- even after a year -- carried with him. Nostalgia and pain flooded through him and it took all his strength to focus instead on the addictive ambient magic in the castle.

He slid into bed, drew the curtains, and turned on the phone. There was a message from Byakuya.

Zanpakuto-up-my-ass: That castle is magnificent

Ichigo: Isn’t it!? I’ve never seen anything like it. Then again, castles here are very different than in japan

Z: Indeed

I: So my new Defense against the dark arts teacher is a racist, homophobic, bigoted piece of trash apparently. And that’s coming from my housemate who is also a racist asshole.

Z: Sumimasen….what?

I: Yep.

Z: Do be careful

I: I will! When have you known me to jump head first into dangerous situations?

Z:...I’m not even going to answer that

I: ugh. Don’t tell Rukia, but I prefered her sleeping in my fucking closet to sharing a room with these prejudiced guys. And they snore!

I: Byakuya?

I: Hello?

I: Are you okay?

Z: pardon me. I almost choked

I: lollll

Z:  What is L O L?

I:....

I: wow

I: at least youre better at this than your sister

I: it means laughing out loud

Z: I see. Well then, yes. Lol.

Z:

Z:

Z: will you be okay?

I: aw! I knew you cared. Somewhere in that stony exterior there’s a soft interior. Knew it

Z: To take a leaf out of my lieutenant’s book, do Shut the fuck up Kurosaki

I: ah, I see. Got a reputation to keep. Can’t ruin that

Z: well perhaps

I: ...did you just?

Z: I said nothing. Dont go jumping to conclusions, Kurosaki

I: very well, byakuya

Z….

Z: you know full well it’s Kuchiki-taichou

I: yeah, yeah, byakuya

I:Oyasuminasai

Z: Oyasumi, Ichigo.

Ichigo smiled. He could imagine the high-strung noble trying not to explode from his impudence. He gently slipped the phone into his bag and closed his eyes, hoping for some semblance of rest.

___________________________________________________________________

Rest didn’t really come. By morning he’d received a grand total of 3 hours of sleep. It wasn’t the worst, but it certainly wasn’t the best either. At breakfast they received their schedules, which had Malfoy muttering about how irritating it was to have classes with Gryffindors. Ichigo pointedly ignored him.

Sadly, and to the transfer student’s great disappointment, History of Magic was by far the most boring subject ever devised. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Ichigo had had his fair share of horrible Sensei, but his one really took the cake. It also almost made him have a heart attack. When he’d been able to see the ghost, he had nearly had a panic attack. He couldn’t see a hollow hole of a chain of fate on the ghost, making it even stranger. The subject -- Giant wars -- could’ve probably been interesting, but it really wasn’t. To make matters worse, they had the class with the Ravenclaws, half of which were listening intently and the other half of which were fidgeting and goofing off. It was exhausting, but also pretty familiar. A ghost? Check. Rowdy classmates? Check. Boring AF subject? Triple check. honestly, the only things separating it from Karakura high were magic and the lack of conspicuous bathroom breaks.

After History of magic, instead of getting a free-period, (He’d heard his housemates getting butthurt over the fact that the Gryffindors got one while they were in said class), they went straight to potions.

“Its taught by professor Snape.” Malfoy told Ichigo, head held high as if he was some snooty prince. “He’s the head of Slytherin and as such takes a liking to us. He also despises Potter, so there’s always great amusement from that.

This in no way made the teen look forward to the class. Picking on one kid? That just wasn’t okay. Especially as it was a teacher doing the bullying. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and, as the doors leading to the professor’s dungeon classroom creaked open ominously, he followed the other students and walked in.

Ichigo spied Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the other side of the room as he sought a seat. Eventually, he ended with the boy from the train. I think his name is Neville?

‘Settle down,’ said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Ichigo was impressed. The man had a commanding voice similar to that which he associated with taicho.

“Before we begin today’s lesson,” said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, “I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an “Acceptable” in your OWL, or suffer my . . . displeasure. “

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape went on. “I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.”

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back.

“But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,’ said Snape softly, ‘so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students. Now, seeing as we have a new student today,” his sounded as if tasting something unpleasant, “I’d like to remind the class that there will be no foolish wand-waving or fooling around in my classroom. Doing so will result in my displeasure and consequences.”

Ichigo was immensely grateful for the professor having explained the exams that morning. He would’ve been hopelessly confused otherwise.

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.” Ichigo raised an eyebrow in interest. Maybe it would help my PTSD… “The ingredients and method–” Snape flicked his wand “–are on the blackboard–” (they appeared there) “–you will find everything you need–” he flicked his wand again “–in the store cupboard–” (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) “–you have an hour and a half . . . start.”

Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. The ex-shinigami smiled as he read the instructions, then frowned briefly. He raised his hand.

Professor snape walked over. “Yes Mr. Kurosaki?”

“Ah, pardon me Sensei, but I have a question. My potion’s book has a slightly different recipe...It might be a different edition of the book? Which should I use?”

The professor looked surprised. “No student has asked me before, or caught the difference. Use your book’s.” he looked at the small comment written on the margin. “What is this?”

Ichigo blushed. “Since the potion deals with anxiety, I figured chocolate could help. It’s been known to help relieve depression and stress.”

“Don’t put chocolate in. serve the consumer a piece of semi-sweet dark chocolate right after they drink it. To do otherwise would be foolish and lead to… shall we say, unfortunate outcomes.”

Ichigo nodded. “Thank you professor.”

He continued to make the potion, explaining the steps gently to Neville. The poor boy had almost messed up the potion countless times because of how scared he was.

“It’s like cooking. Or chemistry.”

“What’s chemistry?”

He sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Okay. so, think of it this way. Each of these ingredients has its own properties. They react  with other ones in different ways. When combined properly, the reaction causes the potion to form.”

Thank Kami I payed attention in chemistry last year. If we’d had it during the Winter War I’d have no idea what I was doing besides a basic knowledge of cooking,

“Okay… Okay… like baking. I know how to bake...I think…”

“A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,” called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Ichigo looked around. Potter’s cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron’s was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione’s potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise. His own cauldron received a sharp nod of approval and nothing else. He could tell that he wasn’t hated, but wasn’t favored either.

At Harry’s cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

“Potter, what is this supposed to be?”

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. Ichigo facepalmed, trying not to die of secondhand embarrassment.

“The Draught of Peace,” said Harry tensely.

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?”

Draco Malfoy laughed.

“Yes, I can,” said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”

“To be fair, professor,” Ichigo interjected, “Perhaps he needs a new prescription.”

He was pointedly ignored.

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.

”Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore. ”

Harry’s heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?”

“No,” said Harry very quietly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No,” said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore.”

“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce.”

The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

“Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing,” said Snape. “Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.”

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Ichigo noticed the-boy-who-lived’s seething expression. He felt bad for the boy, he did, -- nobody deserved such blatant discrimination -- but he really should’ve checked his work. The kid’s potion had been no worse than Ron’s, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs, and yet it would be Harry who would be receiving zero marks for the day’s work. It wasn’t fair, but then again, life isn’t fair. If it was, then i’d still have Shiro and Ossan..

Ichigo’s attention was drawn out of his thoughts by neville, who was beaming.

“Thank you so much Ichigo!” the teen almost bust a blood vessel at the causal address oh hell no. I’m becoming Toshiro “This is the first time I haven’t messed up a potion in years!”

“Well, i hope I helped.”

“You definitely did! Thank you!”

And so, the boy hurried off, leaving Ichigo to bring their potion to the front.

Huh. for a first couple classes, this isn’t that bad.

Chapter Text

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher’s desk, still clothed in that horrid pink monstrocity. It made Ichigo cringe.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be. Ichigo noticed the uncharacteristic silence. It hadn’t even been like this during potions, despite a large portion of the class seeming deathly afraid of the teacher.

“Well, good afternoon!” she said, when finally the whole class had sat down. Her voice was sickly sweet, as if talking down to a puppy or small child.

A few people mumbled “good afternoon” in reply.

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge”. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted back at her.

“Ohayo gozaimasu.” Ichigo muttered under his breath. He was fully ready to start class as if he was back in japan, but there seemed to be no culture of respect here. And even if there was, I wouldn’t give it to her.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks. Ichigo raised an eyebrow at Malfoy. He was regarding the professor with extremely well concealed disgust. Well, not very. More like, he was somehow making it seem as if the distaste was aimed at the Gryffindors rather than the toad.

“Wands away equals highly boring class.” he explained to the transfer, who nodded.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a defence class?” ichigo whispered, “I don’t see any things for martial arts.”

Malfoy gaped at him -- which was becoming a new norm -- “Defensive and offensive spellcasting.

“The fuck? Where’s the physical education?” the teen rolled his eyes.

“um….”

Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please. “

She rapped the blackboard again. The first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Ichigo downright hissed, gaining curious looks from both Malfoy and the golden trio. Legally. What goddamn nonsense. And this says nothing about actually practicing. What a load of bullshit.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge’s three course aims she asked, “Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

“I think we’ll try that again,’ said Professor Umbridge. ‘When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, “Yes, Professor Umbridge”, or “No, Professor Umbridge”. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” rang through the room, hiding Ichigo’s rather vehement, “can i rip her throat out?”

“Good,” said Professor Umbridge. “I should like you to turn to page five and read “Chapter One, Basics for Beginners”. There will be no need to talk.”

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher’s desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad’s eyes. Ichigo turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Across the room from him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Ichigo looked up from the dreadfully boring book -- it said much and explained little -- and noticed that Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

The-boy-who-lived looked at his friend enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Ichigo and Harry were not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione’s mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge’s eye rather than struggle on with ‘Basics for Beginners’.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

“Not about the chapter, no,” said Hermione.

“Well, we’re reading just now,” Umbridge smiled disturbingly, showing her small pointed teeth. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Hermione explained.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

“And your name is?”

“Hermione Granger,” said Hermione.

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,” said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

“Well, I don’t,” said Hermione bluntly. “There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

“Using defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”

Well pardon me for being a little paranoid, Ichigo mentally growled

“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron exclaimed loudly.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?”

“Weasley,” said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge’s pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione. Ichigo crossed his arms behind his head lounging back in his chair and propping his legs up on the desk.

“Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

“No, but–”

‘“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the “whole point” of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way–”

“What use is that?” said Harry loudly. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a–”

“Hand, Mr Potter!” sang the pink toad lady.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

“And your name is?” Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr Thomas?”

‘Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?’ said Dean. ‘If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk free. ‘

“I repeat,” said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but–”

Professor Umbridge talked over him. “I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school,” she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed–not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

At this, Ichigo would’ve thrown himself out of his seat if not for Malfoy holding him back. “Kurosaki, don’t be careless!”

“I don’t care! I’ll show her just how dangerous ‘half-breeds’ can be!” he growled in a distinctive two-tone voice, before freezing, stunned.

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” piped up Dean angrily, “he was the best we ever–”

“Hand,Mr Thomas! As I was saying–you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day–”

“No we haven’t,” Hermione said, “we just–”

“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!”

Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

“It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.”

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?” said Dean hotly. ‘Mind you, we still learned loads. But he was a death eater, which disproves your point”

“Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!” trilled Professor Umbridge. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?” she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

“Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?”

Thank you for having some common sense. I was beginning to think all of you lacked it. I mean, i’m not one to judge.

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” Umbridge dismissed.

“Without ever practising them beforehand?” said Parvati incredulously. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”

“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough–”

“And what good’s theory going to be in the real world?” said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

“Potter shut up. I agree, but Kami, shut up.” the former substitute shinigami muttered.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

“This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,” she said softly.

“So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting for us out there?”

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter.”

Ichigo lazily raised his hand and spoke. “Wow, you western wizards sure are ignorant.”

“Excuse me? Mr…”

“Kurosaki. You are ignorant. Your dark wizards aren’t the only ones who can hurt. Tell me. If there is nothing waiting out there, then how was my mother murdered when I was nine?”

The class gasped.

“Mr Kurosaki! This is uncalled for!”

“Excuse me, i think it is. You call yourself a teacher yet you yourself are spreading lies. Defense is important, madame.” his voice lowered, “I’ve been in fucking conflict, professor. Mafia’s exist throughout the world, both magical and mundane. Serial killers, rapists, abusers, they exist. Sometimes, those you trust can be the ones ready to kill you at a moment’s notice. My father is a healer, madame. I see the damage people do to other people. It’s not pretty. So I’m sorry if you think that nothing’s out there,” his voice slipped into the dual-tone, “because that means youre what people go for first.”

“Detention Mr Kurosaki!”

“Oh alright.” he shrugged.

“I repeat, nothing. Is. Out. there. We have a lot of protection nowadays and you young children have nothing to fear,”

“Oh, yeah?” said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point. Ichigo facepalmed, instinctively knowing what was going to happen.

“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

“Hmm, let’s think . . . ‘ said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. ‘Maybe . . . Lord Voldemort?”

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. The slytherins all froze. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. Ichigo raised an eyebrow. He really didn’t understand the whole fuss about the name. That would be like screaming anytime anyone said Aizen. Well…everybody kind of froze if Aizen was brought up or they hit something, so maybe that wasn’t the best comparison.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

“Now, let me make a few things quite plain.”

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

“You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead–”

“He wasn’t dead,” said Harry angrily, “but yeah, he’s returned!”

“Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,” Professor Umbridge screamed in one breath without looking at him. “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie. “

“It is NOT a lie!” said Harry. “I saw him, I fought him!”

“Detention, Mr Potter!” said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening. You and Mr. Kurosaki. Five o’clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, “Basics for Beginners”.”

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

“Harry, no!” Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

“Potter, you’re an idiot. Sit down.” Ichigo groaned. Malfoy sat next to him, staring in fascination. Detest for the teacher was clear in his eyes as well as slight delight at watching Harry get chewed out.

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

Oh fuck...

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident,” she said coldly.

“It was murder,” said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. “Voldemort killed him and you know it.”

Professor Umbridge’s face was quite blank. For a moment, Ichigo thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear. Ichigo shivered. All the fake sweet names were making his skin crawl; he could feel Aizen’s hand under his chin, forcing his gaze upwards. Snap out of it. Harry kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher’s desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next. Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it. “Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,”Umbridge purred, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

“Well that went well.” Ichigo broke the stunned silence. “For what it’s worth professor, I do believe you’ve lost all the concentration of your students. And oh look! The period is almost over.” He swung his legs off his desk. “Oh, and for the future, never try to tell a class that their classmates death didn’t happen.” He stood up suddenly. “Class. Fucking. Dismissed."

Chapter Text

The rest of the day wasn’t particularly pleasant. The news of Potter’s shouting match with the new professor had somehow managed to reach the ears of seemingly all the students at Hogwarts, leading Ichigo to believe that the school had an even more impressive gossip network than the Seireitei, a fact which seemed impossible.

As soon as he’d left the classroom, all the adrenaline dropped from his body, leaving the redhead practically an exhausted blob, supported only by the snotty, platinum blonde on his left and the black cat upon his shoulders. Yoruichi had leapt down the hallways, probably knowing something was up. She always did, really. The ways of the Onmitsukido never truly lefta member, much less the leader of the organization.

She nudged his head with hers forcibly.

“Stop it, yoruichi-san. I know.” he grumped at the cat lady. She hissed in response. “Thanks. Helpful as always.”

“Are you talking to your cat?” Malfoy questioned, the look on his face suggesting at Ichigo’s lack of sanity.

“Yep!” he scratched behind her ear, smiled when she purred. Thank you…

“She can’t understand you, you know. Cats aren’t on a level of sentience as humans.” he scoffed.

“Are you sure of that?” amusement glittered behind Ichigo’s signature scowl. “I’ve always found her to be highly intelligent and intuitive.” the cat hissed. “Calm down, Yoruichi-san. He wasn’t insulting you.”

She tilted her head, have the teen another affectionate headbutt, leapt off his shoulder and strolled down the hallway.

“Alright then.” ichigo shrugged. He took a closer look at his fellow Slytherin. “Are you alright?”

“What?” the boy seemed genuinely surprised at the question. “Oh, yes. I’m quite alright. Just wondering..”

“About what?”

“Madame Umbridge.”

“Ah.”

“She’s an idiot. The dark lord is back, and almost all of us Slytherins know it. Not just those of us,” the like me went unspoken, “who have family who were involved with him. It’s a fact. and, as much as it pains me to admit it… The gryffindors do have one thing right. We need to learn how to fight.”

“Now do we..” an honestly dangerous smirk appeared on Ichigo’s lips and he jumped onto the next flight of moving staircases.

Malfoy gasped and almost screamed. “Kurosaki!!!”

“Join me! Your first lesson starts now! Too frightened? Alright.” he ran up the steps and jumped suddenly onto the staircase that Malfoy was on. “Keep your balance! I didn’t knock you over, good job.”

“W-what?”

“Best way to teach people survival skills trust me. It’s no shattered shaft, but I’m fairly certain that wouldn’t work on you guys. Besides, I wouldn’t want to even try.”

Malfoy’s expression clearly read large amounts of confusion.

Ichigo smirked and ruffled his hair. “C’mon kid. You may be fucking prejudiced,” malfoy spluttered, “but you’ve got kidness somewhere in that heart of yours. You just gotta learn resolve. And an ability to brush aside what others think of you. Damn the consequences. I’ll teach you to survive, but you have to teach yourself to live.”

“I don’t understand. And your language Kurosaki! So vulgar. Were you raised by a bunch of hounds?”

“Nah, just an idiot and my two sisters.” he grinned. “I did tell you I was just in a war, right? Well there’s a reason I survived.” I owe my life to you… Shiro...Ossan… “ well, several. Instinct. Resolve. Good mentors. Luck. and fuck loads of sparring. Opponents to beat up as you both grow stronger” and make out with… ichigo blushed slightly. Damn panther making me figure out I’m bi.. “A lot goes into it. What you obviously don’t have is a good defense teacher. I don’t care what side of this war you’re going to be on. You’re not evil, kid.” Ichigo ignored Draco’s indignant ‘I’m fifteen!’ and continued. “All of you guys have the same right to live.”

The blonde stared at him, complex emotions dawning in his eyes. His mind was still fogged by years of being told one thing, but there was a spark of something forming within him as Ichigo’s honest and charismatic words washed over him.

The teen had never quite realized how powerful his words and actions were, but it spoke leagues that the Vizards had declared themselves his allies -- not the Seireitei’s.

“I..I suppose so.”

“Alright. Now lets get some dinner, shall we?”

_________________________________________________________________

Harry POV

The next day was cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies along with the new addition -- Ichigo Kurosaki. Malfoy had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty. Kurosaki had his hands in his pockets and was rolling his eyes heavily. Harry didn’t know quite what to think of the transfer. He was abrasive, a Slytherin, and he hung out with Malfoy. But, at the same time, he had been understanding of Harry’s plight, had stood up for him, didn’t like Umbridge, and was their only shot at gaining battle experience.

“Everyone here?” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. “Let’s crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?”

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy Parkinson gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixie-ish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

“Oooooh!” said Parvati and Lavender, thoroughly irritating Harry. They’d been shown highly more impressive creatures beforehand; it wasn’t like Hagrid was a bad teacher.

“Kindly keep your voices down, girls!” said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. “So–anyone know the names of these creatures?” her eyes seemed to land on Kurosaki, surprisingly. Harry winced. It was never fun to be signaled out on your first day of a class. “Mr. Kurosaki?”

“Bowtruckles” ichigo scratched his neck, “They’re wand tree-guardians, if I remember correctly. You have to ask their permission for a branch to make a wand, right?”

“Ten points to Slytherin! My goodness, I didn’t expect you to know so much, and as a transfer too!” Professor Grubbly-Plank enthused. “ ahem, Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Mr Kurosaki rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”

“Woodlice,” said Hermione promptly, which explained why what Harry had taken to be grains of brown rice were moving. “But fairy eggs if they can get them.”

“Good girl, take five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you’d like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle–I have enough here for one between three–you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson.”

The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

“Where’s Hagrid?” he asked her, while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.

“Never you mind,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle.

“Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.”

“Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth.

“Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.”

“Maybe I’ll punch you both if you don’t stop riling up each other.” Kurosaki leaned across the table, resting his chin. “How about that?”

Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who felt suddenly sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater after all; what if he had information about Hagrid’s fate that had not yet reached the ears of the Order? He hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. Harry pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.

He finished the class with a bloody hand -- the bowtruckle hadn’t liked him -- and a half drawn bowtruckle diagram. Oh well. I’ll ask Hermione for help later. Maybe she’ll have a picture of one in a book or something.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

“Hi,” she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, “I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.”

‘Er–right,’ said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

“You can laugh,” Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, “but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!”

“Or Yachiru, but it’s hard to believe her existence even if you’ve met her.”

Huh????

Ichigo smiled brightly at the girl. He can smile???

“Oh! Ichigo! You seem a bit brighter today! Well, darker, but brighter.”

“I do?” a look strangely like hope crosses over his face.

She nodded. “Your aura. It was practically dead the other day. The edges look like they’re healing now.

“They do?” he looked up towards the sky, his hand covering his eyes. “Thank you for telling me.. Luna. I feel almost like I’m high from all the ambient magic. Getaboushi said it would help.” he chuckled. “Why did I ever doubt him? Can’t trust him to not hide things from you, but I trust that man with the lives of my sisters.”

“You’re welcome! By the way, I saw a Jigokucho out the window today, so you might have a visitor or a message sometime soon.”

“Well don’t get my hopes up!” he laughed, though it sounded somewhat forced.

Luna smiled and flounced away, radishes swinging madly.

Harry and Malfoy shared a thoroughly confused look at the enigma that was the transfer student before shuddering at the idea that they had agreed with each other on anything.

“I still think he’s a death eater.” Harry decided, shrugging at Hermione.

“Shut up Harry.”

_________________________________________________________________

At five to five Harry bade the other two goodbye and set off for Umbridge’s office on the third floor. He met Kurosaki outside the door. The teen had been lounging against the wall, absentmindedly petting his cat. The black cat with gold eyes unnerved harry. Those eyes seemed far too intelligent for a mere cat. ‘You ready?’ he mouthed at him, and, upon receiving a nod in affirmation, knocked on the door.

“Come in!” the professor called in a cheery sugarsweet tone.

They entered cautiously, looking around.

Harry had known this office under three of its previous occupants.

In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of himself. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody’s days it had been packed with various instruments and artefacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognisable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

“Good evening, Mr Potter, Mr Kurosaki.”

Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her. He noticed Ichigo stiffen besides him. The teen had left his cat outside of the door, but seemed noticeably more tense without her.

“Evening, Professor Umbridge,” Harry said stiffly. Ichigo followed suit, scowl deep on his face.

“Well, sit down,” she said, pointing towards a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two  straight-backed chairs. Pieces of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for them.

“Er,” said Harry, without moving. “Professor Umbridge. Er–before we start, I–I wanted to ask you a . . . a favour.”

Her bulging eyes narrowed.

“Oh, yes?”

“Well, I’m . . . I’m in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o’clock on Friday and I was–was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it–do it another night . . . instead . . . “

He knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good.

“Oh, no,” said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. “Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one’s convenience. No, you will come here at five o’clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.”

Harry felt the blood surge to his head and heard a thumping noise in his ears. So he told ‘evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories’, did he?

She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort, Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair and sat down.

“There,” said Umbridge sweetly, “we’re getting better at controlling our temper already, aren’t we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr Potter. No, not with your quill,” she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. “You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.”

She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

“And me, Professor?” the title rolled off Kurosaki’s lips like poison. “Can I use my pen? Its much more efficient for writing lines.”

“Oh, no, Mr Kurosaki. You’ll be using one of my quills as well.”

His expression soured even more, if that was possible. I don’t believe i’ve ever met someone who scowls as much as he does.

“I want you, Mr Potter, to write I must not tell lies. And you, Mr Kurosaki, I want you to write I will obey my betters” she told him softly.

“How many times?” Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.

“Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,” said Umbridge sweetly. “Off you go.”

She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill, then realised what was missing.

“There’s no ink.” Ichigo scowled. “See, this is why pens are better.”

“Oh, you won’t need ink,” said Professor Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel – yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

He heard a slight and somewhat delayed hiss from Ichigo.

Harry looked round at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.

‘Yes?’

“Nothing,” said Harry quietly.

He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again, the words had been cut into his skin; once again, they healed over seconds later. He looked over at Ichigo. The teen was doing what he was told….well, technically. He was writing the lines such that they curled around his skin like an expertly done tattoo. What…?

‘I needed someway to fight back’ ichigo mouthed to him, head bent.

‘ah.’

And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realise was not ink, but his own blood. And, again and again, the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment. The only sounds were the scratching of quill on parchment and the small, barely audible hisses from both boys. Harry grit his teeth. He didn’t know how Kurosaki was staying so quiet. He wanted to scream.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge’s window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew she was watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit there all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill . . . It felt unfair. He hadn’t done anything wrong! He was right! And Kurosaki, despite being a Slytherin, hadn’t done anything either! Although he’d heard rumors of how cheeky the transfer student had been after he stormed out, so maybe the detention was merited.

“Come here,” she said, after what seemed hours.

They stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.

“Hand,” she said.

He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

“Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet,” she said, smiling. “Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? Hand, Mr. Kurosaki.”

He extended it, an almost numb expression on his face.”

“What is this...Mr Kurosaki?” her voice was quiet and nauseating.

“You told us to write our lines. You didn’t say how. So, I made them more visually pleasing.”

She looked like she wanted to explode before she schooled her expression back into a sweet smile. “I see. Well, anyways it seems that the message hasn’t cut very deep yet, now has it? You may leave, both of you.”

Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He turned the corner and nearly screeched at the sight that greeted him. A young woman with plum coloured hair was streaking through the hall, quite literally. He covered his eyes quickly, not wanting to stare at her, um, shapely form.

“Ichigo! I smelled blood! All you alright?”

“I’m fine. You know, you’re going to give yourself away like that, Yoruichi-san.” his cat????

“Silly Ichigo. Cats don’t talk.” the words sounded like an inside joke. “I’m here with you for a reason.” a pause. “Ichigo..you know Kisuke and I are worried about you--”

“Don’t--”

“No. I’m talking.” a small thunk was heard. “This is good for you. Being here. But you haven’t been around people your age who’ve actually talked to you non-awkwardly in a year!”

“And who’s fault is that!!? It’s not mine! FUCK!”

“Breathe. Talk to me. Why do I smell your blood?”

Harry opened his eyes as Ichigo extended his hand to the woman. She hissed. “I’m going to kill that woman. No. not kill her. I’ll destroy her.”

“It reminded me..he never did that , but this quill is definetly a torture instrument. And the words themselves...if I did that Yoruichi, I’d be dead. You know that. You taught me that.”

She smiled in a proud and catlike grin. “Indeed I did. And you have exceeded our expectations.” she ruffled his hair, “my favorite student!”

“I’m your only student!”

“Well I did torment Byakuya-bo when he was little, and my little bee was most definetly my pupil. How is Sui Feng doing?”

“You literally know better than me. Sui fon-taichou is terrifying. I get the impression that she doesn’t like me especially because you’re my sensei.”

“Probably.” she grinned. “Do talk to your acquaintance~ in the sixth. I’m sure he misses you with all that paperwork.”

“Yoruichi-san!!!!”

“What? You’ve grown too used to me being naked for me to tease you that way now, so I get to be creative!”

“How do you know about the phone?”

Harry found himself about 5 billion times more confused as Ichigo looked like he very well might murder the woman.

“GETABOUSHI!!!!!!”

Chapter Text

The next day held an exhausted ichigo nearly face planting into his highly unappealing bowl of porridge. Draco blinked at him helplessly. Waking the transfer up in the morning had only led to a face full of Ichigo’s cat. He’d been in a sort of unresponsive mood, one that not even the most annoying of Slytherin could break him out of.

Malfoy shrugged and turned to Crabbe and Goyle. They didn’t provide the most intelligent conversation, but they were loyal to a (many) fault(s). Honestly, the mood at the table was pretty normal. Which was why it was so utterly confusing when three Gryffindors appeared, snatched a rather bemused looking Ichigo out of his seat and kidnapped him to the other table.

“Wha--?” a berry dropped out of the Malfoy heir’s mouth.

Harry grinned “Don’t mind us Malfoy! None of your half-arsed business!”

“Uh….”

Crabbe and Goyle looked at him with just as much confusion. “Huh?”

“Exactly.”

-----------------------------

Ichigo POV

“What the fucking fuck?!” Ichigo glared at the golden trio.

“Hello Ichigo, sorry about that.” Hermione smiled sweetly. “We have a few questions.”

“So you decide to drag me away from breakfast???”

“Well you weren’t really eating it…” Ron pointed out unhelpfully, “more like...dangling your head above it.”

“Not my fault my kid sister’s a better cook than this entire school.”

Hermione looked highly affronted. “Excuse me?! The house elves work hard to make that food! They literally slave over it! Did I mention they aren’t paid? Its horrific!”

“‘Mione, Dumbledore does offer to pay them…”

“Oh do be quiet Ronald.”

Harry rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bench. “So, Mr. transfer student, why does a naked lady have the same name as your cat?”

FUCKING HELL YORUICHIiiiiiiii

Ichigo facepalmed. “That's because she is my cat.”

The lone girl of the group looked scandalized. “A girl sleeps in your room?”

“Not like that!!!!” he screeched, “don't let her fool you. She's very taken. I mean Getaboushi is not that possessive of a man because they are both over-flirtatious messes, but just..ew.”

Harry blinked. “Then why was she naked?”

The former-substitute-shinigami sighed a long suffering sigh. “The way she explained it to me: cats don’t wear clothes. I thought she was a cat. For months. A talking cat, but a cat nonetheless. Think a very very odd animagus. Its something passed down in her family. She goes around as a cat most of the time, so she really doesn't care. She also has way too much fun trying to make all of us blush.”

“I bet…” Ron blushed.

Ichigo internally growled. He was highly protective of his mentors, despite his knowledge that they could kick anybody’s asses. “Anyways. She’s one of the teachers at Shinhana and came along to make sure Hogwarts was treating me well. Also because she loves trolling people. And was getting bored. Trust me. A bored Lady Shihouin is terrifying.”

“But why did she come along?” hermione propped her head on her hand. “Doesn’t she need to teach?”

Ichigo shook his head. He was still bitter at Soul Society’s exiling of them. Not like the Gotei had done any better by him. Well ...it wasn’t everybody’s fault. Funnily enough, Byakuya’s the only one who seems to care.. “Her first pupil took over. Professor Soi Fon, teacher of Class Two.”

“Oh! So how does that work? Aren’t professors not allowed to pick favorites?” hermione practically oozed her desire for information.

“Not exactly…. So there are thirteen main classes that everybody takes over the year. Each of those teachers has a student under them that is a uh…. How would you translate this… teacher’s assistant? And the thirteen main teachers each sort of have a house. I guess… heads of that house? Where you go is decided after year two. The professors request you and you request them and you get matched. Now, if a professor or teacher’s assistant thinks you deserve their attention, they might take you under their wing.” he blushed. “I somehow got GetaBoushi and Yoruichi-san. Rukia has Professor Ukitake.” it is so weird referring to them as professor instead of captain...i sure hope I can remember this…

“So, who’s your Dumbledore?” Harry asked. He still felt that something was off with Ichigo, but his explanation was so thorough…

“Yamamoto-Soutaichou. His honorific means head Captain, and since we’re a more militaristic school, that's our title for our headmaster. Also, the houses; your professor is who you fight under if we go to war.”

“Like the one you just had….”

“Yeah ...that..” Ichigo winced. There was no way he could tell them how high up he was. Plus even discussing it brought back bad memories. “I sure hope Grimm and Nel are doing okay…” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“Oh nothing.”

Hermione peered at him, her bushy hair tied back into a ponytail for once. “So which house are you in?”

The strawberry almost gaped. Oh shittttt. Well Shinji did teach me…. I could say fifth? But thats Aizen’s… I know Kyouraku and Kenpachi would be happy to have me… But Byakuya has been standing up for me… hm. I spent the most time with the eleventh, so, yeah. Lets go with that. “I’m in the eleventh.” He stated proudly. “We’re all pretty insane and don’t care what people think. Professor Kenpachi is terrifying and actually enjoys dueling with a passion. And fighting in general. The rest of the school.. They try to stay away from our wing.” he chuckled. “Renji and Bya- sorry, Professor Kuchiki are the sixth. Ikkaku and Yumichika are with me. And they always invade my room. Always. Every. Single. Time. so does Rukia! And Rangiku! And they’re from the 13th and the 10th!” he sweatdropped, trying to not grow melancholy at the fact that they no longer did so. “We have rules. We all just ignore them. When Yoruichi-san and GetaBoushi   were at the academy they created a secret basement and practically destroyed the curriculum. I stormed through the school to get my friend from almost being expelled. Fun times.”

He could tell that they were bemused, and he smirked.

Harry nodded. He had no idea how a school like that even functioned, but it apparently did, so he let it fly. “So the cat is actually your mentor?”

“Yes!” how many times do I have to explain this? Would a diagram be easier? Wow. “now! I've answered your questions. Will you please let me go eat breakfast and text my bo-- my friend?”

Hermione raised a finger. “One more question. How do you text at Hogwarts?”

Ichigo swore, right then, that if he lost his shit and destroyed the castle, it was definitely not his fault.

Chapter Text

Ichigo sat restlessly at his seat in Charms. It was disconcerting being taught by someone that much shorter than him but, he knew better than to be fooled by the Professor’s height. According to Greengrass, Flitwick had been a dueling champion in his youth. A part of him desired to ask the professor if his height was natural or a result of a spell, but decided against it. 

They were learning Silencio, the silencing charm. 

Could be used to shut someone up He mused quietly, useful.

But despite the usefulness of the spell, the transfer student still dreaded learning it. He didn’t like being kept quiet.

“Uh, Ichigo?” a quiet Ravenclaw student by the name of Avy Silverman poked his arm gently, causing him to jump.

“Huh? Oh, hi.”

“Would you be my practice partner today?” Xe asked, a little nervously.

“Yeah, of course.” Ichigo was puzzled. I’m not that intimidating..am I? He suddenly remembered Tatsuki’s teasing about his perpetual scowl and facepalmed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for!” waving a hand in a scarily Urahara-like gesture, xe smiled at him. “I’m sorry for poking you. Professor Flitwick told us to get started and you were zoning out.”

“Oh! I was?” he scowled at himself. “I’ll do better. Alright Avy. Let’s get to work.”

Avy nodded, stood, and stretched xer wand arm out. “We’ve got this. Silencio!”

Ichigo almost gasped as he felt the magic hit him. As always, it was like a drug quality shock to his system, but he could just feel it restricting his voice. ‘Drop the Spell! It works!’ he tried to tell xem, but no sound came out. 

“Did it work?”

He nodded. I feel like I’m suffocating. Please drop the spell.

“Okay. great. You cast it at me?”

‘I. Can’t. Speak.’ he mouthed, eyes closed. The ex-substitute-shinigami didn’t know why he was closing his eyes, but his subconscious did. His instinct. Self preservation. Eyes. 

“Oh. right. Finite Incantatem.”

“Well. It worked.” Ichigo kept his eyes closed trying to calm his pulse. It’s official. I hate PTSD.

Xe nodded excitedly. “Now I can shut up all the idiots up when I’m trying to read!”

“Yeah. Sounds great. Silencio. ”

Avy gaped at him, probably wondering how he turned around to fire the spell so quickly. He smirked. “Does it work?”

Nodding, xe gave him a thumbs up.

“ Finite Incantatem.” Ichigo ended the spell and offered a hand to Xem. “Feeling alright?”

“Yeah. Just a little out of breath. I wonder if that’s what it feels like to be mute? My girlfriend is. She signs or writes all of her spells. And if this charm exists, why has nobody made the opposite? That would be so helpful.”

He smiled at xer curiosity. “You could do that for your seventh year project then.”

Xe brighted. “You’re right! Thank you Ichigo!”

“Its Kurosaki…”

Xe gave him a hug. “Professor! Ichigo and I both got it to work on our first try!”

Flitwick glanced over. “Stupendous! 10 points to Slytherin and Ravenclaw for a job well done!”

Avy grinned and ran a hand through their hair. “Say Ichigo, you’re a good guy. Are you dating anyone? Cause I could always set you up.”

“Wha-what?? No, no you don’t have to do that!” he turned as red as his (not actual) namesake. “No, I have a, person, I mean I’m not, I’M SINGLE! Oh kami I just yelled that to the whole world…” he slammed his burning face into his desk. “But taken. Let’s just say I’m taken.”

Nodding sagely, Avy chuckled. “I see. I know gay panic when I see it.”

“Who said I was gay??”

“You just confirmed it.”

Ichigo sighed in resignation. “Bi. Bi panic. Get your facts right.”

And thus ended Charms class.

                         ________________________________________________________________________

It had been one week since classes started, and already there seemed to be drama. Ichigo strode into the Slytherin common room, fully ready to flop on a sofa before the next class, when he noticed nearly the entire house crowding around a poster on the wall.

“Huh?”

He pushed through the crowd to get a look. “Educational Degree 23…. Dolores Umbridge declared Hogwarts High Inquisitor? What…?”

Malfoy appeared at his shoulder. “Father didn’t tell me about this. It’s purely the Ministry’s doings.”

“Drake! Did you see this?” Pansy ran at them. “She’ll be inspecting all the teachers!”

“Well good. Maybe we can get some of them fired. Like that oaf Hagrid.”

“Wait, Malfoy.” Ichigo mused for a second before speaking. “She wouldn’t just fire him. Didn’t you say she’s racist?”

“Oh bugger.” Pansy cursed, sticking her nose up at it. “It’s one think to be blood-purist. It’s entirely another to hate people because of race. Blood-purism is just thinking we’re better than everyone. Racism is hating everybody else.”

“Unless you’re the Dark Lord,” Draco reminded her. “He kills because of blood-purism.”

“Oh true. Well my point is that’s human matters. Species are different. We’re not the smartest species out there and that’s fact.”

“Whales.” Blaise added sagely, a sentiment echoed by the other two.

Ichigo chuckled. “Alright, but what do we do about Umbitch?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, pulling Ichigo and the others to the couch. “We get on her good side. Obviously. I’m afraid it’s a bit late for Kurosaki, but we can turn on the charm. Won’t know what hit her.”

The entire group smirked, sly gleams of excitement in their eyes. Ichigo leaned over on his elbows, a dark side of him reveling in the chaos of the Slytherin house. “Sounds like a plan.” Bits of black bled into one eye, barely noticed by the others. They noted it and put it away as one of the quirks of their new housemate.

“Who do you think she’ll go after first?” Pansy asked Malfoy, running a hand through her hair.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’ll be frankly ridiculous when she confronts Professor Snape. He’ll destroy her.”

Ichigo chuckled. “And can you imagine McGonagall-Sensei? She’ll annoy the toad to bits.”

The four shared looks of mischief oddly similar to four Gryffindors a couple decades earlier. “I’ll keep Father updated. This should be wonderful.”

Chapter Text

Hermione POV

Sadly, the day didn’t get off to the most exciting start. Dumbridge wasn’t present in the potions classroom, but dread was definitely there. Not because of the toadlike woman, but because of a much more universal fear: getting graded homework back.

“I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL,” Snape smirked, disappointment, resignation, and delight playing across his face as he handed back their homework. His eyes swept dramatically across the room. “This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination.”

Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.

“The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Had this been your examination, only a handful of you would have passed.” Hermione bounced in her seat a little. She hadn’t yet looked at her paper, but she expected she didn’t do horribly. “I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a “D”.”

He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, “Some people got a “D”? Ha!”

“Is that bad?” Hermione heard the red-headed transfer student ask him.

“Oh yes. Only one grade worse, but it’s still a failing grade.”

“Ah.” Kurosaki shrugged, still looking confused. “Is an A bad?” he asked, cringing a little when he saw Hermione staring.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you dolt. Not amazing, but passable.”

Hermione looked sidewards towards Harry to see what he got. However, he slid the essay back into his bag before she got a peek. Come on! It can’t be that bad. She huffed in frustration but left him alone. Her friend was reading the board in what seemed like uncharacteristic concentration and she had the urge to poke him with her quill. She didn’t, of course. Harry barely ever truly focused on potions, and she was definitely not going to be the one to stop him. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville’s, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he won’t get detention for this.  

“Well, that wasn’t as bad as last week, was it?”Hermione stated, smiling gently as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. “And the homework didn’t go too badly, either, did it?”

When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, “I mean, all right, I didn’t expect the top grade, not if he’s marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.

“Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we’ve got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we’re getting now are a sort of baseline, aren’t they? Something we can build on . . . “

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table. Hermione continued talking, quite purposefully ignoring the boys’ silence.

“Obviously, I’d have been thrilled if I’d got an “O”– “

“Hermione,” Ron’s voice was sharp. “If you want to know what grades we got, ask.”

“I don’t–I didn’t mean–well, if you want to tell me–” She sighed, trying to backtrack.

“I got a “P”,” Ron spat out, ladling soup into his bowl. “Happy?”

“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry’s right. “Nothing wrong with a good healthy “P”.”

“But,” said Hermione, “doesn’t “P” stand for..”

“”Poor”, yeah,” said Lee Jordan. “Still, better than “D”, isn’t it? “Dreadful”?”

Hermione noticed Harry’s face flush and wince. Oh. “So top grade’s “O” for “Outstanding”,” she continued, trying to draw attention off of him, “and then there’s “A”–”

“No, “E”,” George corrected her, “”E” for “Exceeds Expectations”. And I’ve always thought Fred and I should’ve got “E” in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.”

They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, ‘So, after “E” it’s “A” for “Acceptable”, and that’s the last pass grade, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole. (which made the girl of the group cringe.)

“Kurosaki got an A.” she said matter-o-factlly.

“Lucky bugger.” George nodded his head. “Knew he’d do well in potions. Only been in class a week too.”

“Then you get “P” for “Poor”–” 

“Yeet.” Ron interjected.

Fred continued, –‘and “D” for “Dreadful”.

“And then “T”,” George reminded him.

“”T”?” asked Hermione, thoroughly appalled at even the sound of the grade. She couldn’t even think of what it could possibly stand for! “Even lower than a “D”? What on earth does “T” stand for?”

“”Troll”,” said George promptly.

Harry laughed, even as Hermione stared at the twins in horror.

“Troll??? What in Merlin’s Pants??”

“No, there’re no trolls in those.” George snickered.

She blushed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Yeah yeah. You lot had an inspected lesson yet?” Fred asked them.

“No,” she responded automatically, “Have you?”

“Just now, before lunch,” said George. “Charms.”

“What was it like?” Harry and Hermione asked together. The witch leaned forward on her forearms, her interest palpable. 

Fred shrugged. “Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick’s like, he treated her like a guest, didn’t seem to bother him at all. She didn’t say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it.”

“I can’t see old Flitwick getting marked down,” said George, “he usually gets everyone through their exams all right.”

“But what if she doesn’t like his height?” Hermione stressed, “Could she mark him down for that?”

“Who’ve you got this afternoon?” Fred asked Harry.

“Trelawney–”

“A “T” if ever I saw one.”

Hermione huffed in agreement, very glad of her decision to drop the class.

“–and Umbridge herself.”

“Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today,” said George. “Angelina’ll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices.”

“She’ll kill me” he groaned, and both Ron and Hermione pat his back sympathetically.

Ichigo POV

Unbearable-bridge was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Ichigo vaugely overheard Harry and Ron regaling Hermione about exactly what had happened in Divination (which he found a bit ridiculous, at least in the forms he’d been told about) while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory. 

Ichigo took his seat with a sigh. He was sandwiched between The-Boy-Who-Lived and Draco, which was definitely not the most comfortable position.

“Wands away,” Umbridge instructed them all with a smile, crushing the hopes of all the idealists in the room, “As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence “Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation”. There will be no need to talk. “Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen.

 Ichigo rolled his eyes, bouncing his leg up and down below the desk. To be honest, the book wasn’t the driest he’d read for school, but it was a magic book. At a magic school. It should certainly be less dry than it was, which was to say, less dry than a completely evaporated ocean. He almost prostrated himself at Hermione’s feet when he saw her hand in the air, trusting that she’d break the terrible monotony.

Professor Umbridge also noticed, apparently, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, “What is it this time, Miss Granger?”

“I’ve already read Chapter Two,”said Hermione.

Well fuck in a bucket. It’s about the book. I’d honestly be grateful for some danger right now.

“Well then, proceed to Chapter Three.”

“I’ve read that too. I’ve read the whole book.”

Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.

“Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen.”

“He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named,” said Hermione promptly. “He says “counter-jinx” is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable.”

Huh? They’re all spells. Just call them spells or categorize them based on what they do. Oh fuck… It’s like Kido. I’ll suck at controlling the spells power. Great. Just great. I’ll end up blowing up the testing room at this rate. Also, this book is not thick enough for the whole year. Heh, thicc. Okay, focus.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and it was clear that she was impressed, although obviously against her will.

“But I disagree,” Hermione continued.

Professor Umbridge’s eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.

“You disagree?” she repeated.

“Yes, I do,” said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. “Mr. Slinkhard doesn’t like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they’re used defensively.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. “Well, I’m afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard’s opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.”

“But–” Hermione began.

“That is enough,” said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house.”

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

“With all do respect,” which is none, “Professor, but debating topics can be healthy for a class. Maybe you’d like to share your perspective on Jinxes, I mean, as a member of the Ministry, I’m sure you have loads of experience and wisdom to share with us.” Ichigo spoke up, venom oozing from his voice (although the toad didn’t seem to notice it).

“Oh, well….” she paused, “Perhaps another time, Mr Kurosaki, but in this classroom, you do not get to decide what would be healthy for the classroom.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I agree with Kurosaki.” Malfoy drawled. Thank you! Finally! Se, I knew you weren’t always an idiot.

“I’m sure you do, Mr Malfoy,” she said, her voice much sweeter than before. Ichigo saw Malfoy shudder. “But that will not be happening in this class. Now, I’m taking those points away, Ms Granger.”

Whoop. Dictatorship. How fun.

“What for?” Harry’s fists clenched against the desk.

“Don’t you get involved!” Hermione whispered urgently to him.

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,” Professor Umbridge answered smoothly. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more agency but as none of them–with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects–would have passed a Ministry inspection–”

“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,” said Harry loudly, “there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Harry had ever heard. Then–

“I think another week’s detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge sleekly.

Ichigo facepalmed, the sharp sound resounding through the silent room.

_______________________________________________

When the Slytherin Quartet entered Transfiguration, Ichigo’s face lit up with manic glee. Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of his head.

“ Excellent,” Pansy just barely hid her smirk as she applied a fresh coat of lipgloss to her lips. It was an odd habit of her’s, and Ichigo couldn’t figure out if it was her trying to draw Draco’s attention, or if it was just a habit.

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.

“That will do,” she said and silence fell immediately. “Mr. Zabini, kindly come here and hand back the homework–Miss Everglow, please take this box of mice–don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you–and hand one to each student–”

“Hem, hem,” said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. 

Malfoy had a small pleased smirk on his face. While he hated Gryffindor, he still respected it’s head. (as all semi-sane individuals should)

“Right then, everyone, listen closely– Mr Crabbe, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention–most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be–”

“Hem, hem,” 

“Yes?” McGonagall turned around, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line. Ichgio was unpleasantly reminded of Captains’ meetings. Of course, that train of thought led him to a certain someone and he shook his head, attempting to get any similar trains of thought out of his mind.

“I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec–”

“Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,” said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge.  Oh my goodness she’s a badass. Not surprising. All the women I know are. Several of the students exchanged looks of glee. “As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell–”

“Hem, hem.”

“I wonder,” Professor McGonagall seethed in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, “how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.”

Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.

Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.

“As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So– you know the incantation, let me see what you can do . . . “

“I think I’m in love.” Pansy stated. “Very platonic childlike love.”

Malfoy nodded. “I almost wish she was a Slytherin instead of a Gryffindor.”

“She’s one of us now.” Blaise added, “we’ll still be arseholes to her students though.”

“As long as you aren’t stupid and make me beat ya up.” Ichigo reminded them.

“Right.”

Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realised Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.

“Well, it’s a start,” the former substitute shinigami sighed, holding up a rather large (and slightly singed) flat mouse and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.

As they filed out of the classroom, the Strawberry saw Professor Umbndge approach the teacher’s desk; he elbowed Malfoy hard in the stomach, who in turn tapped Pansy’s shoulder, who poked Blaise’s cheek, and the four of them deliberately fell back to skulk around the area.

“How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” Professor Umbridge asked.

“Thirty-nine years this December,” said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.

Professor Umbridge made a note.

“Very well,” she said, “you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days’ time.”

“I can hardly wait,” McGonagall deadpanned and she strode off towards the door. “Hurry up, you four, before I give you detention.” she added sternly, sweeping them before her. Ichigo smiled brightly at her.

_______________________________________________________________

Unluckily for Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Hagrid, Umbridge’s visiting his currently-substitute-led class didn’t go very well for him.

Ichigo ended up punching both Goyle and Malfoy (gently) in the stomach, highly irritated at their bigoted view of their teacher.

“If someone speaks with an accent, a speech affect, or a lisp, it doesn’t make them unintelligent.” He reprimanded them sharply. “It’s not Professor Hagrid’s fault that he was born a half giant, and you must remember that. And that doesn’t really matter much. He has magic, He’s a half blood by your definition, and he has as much right to be at Hogwarts as anyone else. Didn’t you tell me he was expelled under false charges?”

Malfoy nodded. “Yeah.. He was accused of something the dark lord did while at Hogwarts.”

“Exactly. So stop it. Appearances can be deceiving and it’s possible he’s more powerful and intelligent than he seems to you. I haven’t even met the man and I can tell you that. Sometimes those who aren’t actually human have the most human qualities of us all.”

That had stunned the Slytherins into silence as they evaluated their life choices.

Ichigo sighed. “I know it’ll take longer than a week to destroy your biases, but I’ll work on it.”

Besides him, fully invisible to the young man, a black and white clad figure gazed at him proudly, pressing a phantom kiss to his cheek.

“You’re getting stronger….Ichigo...I’m proud of you.” if only the elders could hear you...they’d change their tune in an instant….

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry poked his head into the library, raising an eyebrow as he saw a curled up lump of transfer student on of the sofas. The red head’s cat ( teacher??? ) was settled in his lap, absentmindedly being petted by the studying teen. 

“Uh, should we come back later?” He inquired of Hermione (who had poked her head in under Harry’s).

“No. We’ll just continue without him.” 

Harry blanched. Hermione and Ron had sprung this teaching idea thing upon him with barely any warning, and, while he was passionate about it, he had really hoped that Ichigo would be able to help. The teen had, after all, been through a war already. “But Hermione--”

“We’ll be fine. Come on! And he’s a Slytherin.”

“She’s got a point mate.” Ron added, nodding sagely. 

Ichigo flipped a page in the book he was reading, the rustling sound causing all three members of the golden trio to jump.

“So does my elbow.” Harry deadpanned, jabbing it into his friend’s side teasingly.

“Oi! Harry!” 

He grinned. “Fine. We’ll leave him be and enlist him to help if we need. How many people are coming anyways?”

“Oh, not that many.” Hermione answered nonchalantly. “I’ve told them to meet us at the Hogshead when we go to Hog’smead this weekend. I do hope they’ll all show up.”

Now, this answer of course did nothing to help Harry’s nerves. He’d noticed quite quickly that Hermione didn’t say how many people were coming. Just that they were. This could of course be seen as momentary forgetfulness on the girl’s part, but Harry knew her well enough to know that it couldn’t be so.

“I see..” He let a strained grin onto his face, somewhat dreading the first weekend of October.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. Alter breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, Harry remembered that if it hadn’t been for Sirius, he would not have been going at all.

They walked down the main street past Zonko’s Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar’s severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

“Well, come on,” said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

The bar couldn’t have been more different than the Three Broomsticks, except, of course, for the fact that it was a bar. That’s where the similarities ended. The place was shabby, and a thin film of dust clung to the stone tiles that made up the floor. A lone barkeep was polishing glasses, shooting the three teens a Look of some sort. It made Harry a little apprehensive. The chairs were worn wood, seemingly having sen much use throughout the years. In fact, nothing about the place seemed new. It was..it was old, Harry decided. Old, but it will do.

Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in his first year: “Yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head,” he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon’s egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time Harry had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog’s Head. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Harry might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly. A man with long dark hair sat in a corner, hood covering all features but a few wisps of hair. On his shoulder rested another fellow, draped in a throw blanket.

“I don’t know about this, Hermione,” Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. “Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?”

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.

“Umbridge is shorter than that woman,” she whispered. “And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there’s nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I’ve double- and triple-checked the school rules. We’re not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog’s Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I’ve looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they’re definitely allowed. I just don’t think it’s a good idea if we parade what we’re doing.”

“No,” said Harry dryly, “especially as it’s not exactly a homework group you’re planning, is it? It's a defense group. Not a homework group. An illegal one. get it right Hermione.”

The barkeep sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

“What?” he grunted. The need for pleasantries was apparently lost on him.

“Three Butterbeers, please,” said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar. “Six Sickles.”

“I’ll get them,” said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman’s eyes travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry’s money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman. After delivering that drink, he brought two firewhiskeys to the men in the corner.

“You know what?” Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. “We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn’t care. I’ve always wanted to try Firewhisky–”

“You–are–a–prefect,” snarled Hermione.

There was a slight sound of snorted laughter from the corner.

“Oh,” said Ron, the smile fading from his face. “Yeah . . . “

“So, who when is everyone meeting us?” Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.

“I told them to be here about now and I’m sure they all know where it is–oh, look, this might be them now.” Hermione motioned towards the entrance with her head.

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry’s stomach did a back-flip) Cho and one of her usually-giggling friends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko’s merchandise.

“A couple of people?” said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. “A couple of people? I knew something was off when you didn’t say the exact amount.”

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,” said Hermione happily. “Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

“Hi,” said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, “could we have . . . twenty-five Butterbeers, please?”

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

“Cheers,” said Fred, handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these . . . “

Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting some kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.

“Hi, Harry,” said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.

Harry tried to smile back, Neville’s presence was calming. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron’s right. Her presence, on the other hand, was anything but. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told him that, given her way, she wouldn’t be here at all.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.

“Er,” said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. “Well–er–hi.”

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

“Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you’re here. Erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea–I mean” (Harry threw her a sharp look) “I had the idea–that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts–and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us– “(Hermione’s voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) “– because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts–” (“Hear, hear,” said Anthony Goldstein (the lone Jewish student at the school), and Hermione looked heartened) “–Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.”

She paused, looked sideways at Harry and went on, “And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells–”

“You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?” Michael interjected.

“Of course I do,” said Hermione at once. ‘But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because . . . because . . . “ she took a great breath and finished, “because Lord Voldemort is back.”

The reaction was immediate and predictable. So predictable in fact that Harry almost rolled his eyes. Cho’s friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.

“Who are you?” said Ron, rather rudely.

“Zacharias Smith,” said the boy, “and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”

“Look,” said Hermione, intervening swiftly, “that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about–”

“It’s OK, Hermione,” Harry sighed. It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people–maybe even most of them–had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry’s story firsthand. They didn’t know everything that had happened. They’d just heard about it. But they also knew him from school and thought him really the same as the rest of them. Sides from, ya know, the whole being The-Boy-Who-Lived thing. “What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back?” he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. “I saw him. He has no nose. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you won’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone. But he's back.”

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier. The men cuddling in the corner seemed to raise their heads in interest.

“All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know–”

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry snapped. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. Luna had likened him to a puff ball of anger, and he really couldn’t help but agree. He pointedly kept his eyes on Zacharias Smith’s aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. Talking about his sorta-crush’s dead boyfriend was awkward enough as it was. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

He cast an angry look in Hermione’s direction. This was, he felt, all her fault; she had decided to display him like some sort of freak the word still sent shivers down his spine. He hated it and of course they had all turned up to see just now wild his story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

“Is it true,” a girl with long braided hair broke the silence, looking directly at Harry, “that you can produce a Patronus?”

“Uh, yes?”

“A corporeal Patronus?”

The phrase stirred something in Harry’s memory. “Er–you don’t know Madam Bones, do you?” he asked.

The girl smiled “She’s my auntie,” she said. “I’m Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So–is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?”

“Yep.”

This set off a whole round of mumbling yet again.

“And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?” demanded Terry Boot. “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . . “

“Er–yeah, I did, yeah,” said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said ‘Wow!’ softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now; he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cho.

“And in our first year,” said Neville to the group at large, “he saved that Philological Stone– “

“Philosopher’s,” hissed Hermione.

“Yes, that–from You-Know-Who,” finished Neville.

Hannah Abbotts eyes were as round as Galleons.

“And that’s not to mention,” said Cho (Harry’s eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) “all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year–getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things . . .”

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry’s insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. The fact that Cho had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them. He looked around the room. The veiled witch looked like she was trying to be inconspicuous, and he almost blushed when he saw the two men snogging in the corner

“Look,” he said, and everyone fell silent at once, “I...I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but... it was really dumb luck...I had a lot of help with all that stuff...no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is–”

“Yes, well,” said Hermione hastily, moving on . . . “the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?”

There was a murmur of general agreement. 

“Right,” Hermione looked relieved that something had at last been settled. “Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week–”

“Hang on,” said Angelina, “we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.”

“No,” said Cho, “nor with ours.”

“Nor ours,” added Zacharias Smith.

“We could make a magic calendar with all of our schedules?” Anthony Goldstein suggested, only to be ignored. 

“I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone,” said Hermione, slightly impatiently, “but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters–”

“Well said!” barked Ernie Macmillan, who Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. “Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!”

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for somebody to dramatically disagree with him. When nobody spoke, he went on, “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells–”

“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione, “Is that she’s got some . . . some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilise us against the Ministry.”

Everyone was stunned at first into silence, then into very loud clusters of conversation.

“Hem, hem,” said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and have defence lessons?”

“Yes,” said Hermione at once, “yes, we were, you’re right, Ginny.”

“Well, once a week sounds cool,” said Lee Jordan.

“As long as–”began Angelina.

“It doesn’t conflict with Quidditch.” Harry continued, just to annoy Hermione.

“Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch,” she acknowledged tensely. “Well, the other thing to decide is where we’re going to meet . . . “

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

“Right, well, we’ll try to find somewhere,” said Hermione. “We’ll send a message round to everybody when we’ve got a time and a place for the first meeting.”

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something. “I–I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,” she took a deep breath, “that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we’re up to.”

Harry did in fact notice that if they wanted this to be thoroughly effective, they should include everyone else in the room, but decided against saying anything.

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list. When the last person–Zacharias– had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract. A binding one. Harry wondered if Hermione hadn't put a spell on it.

“Well, time’s ticking on,” said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. “George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we’ll be seeing you all later.”

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.

Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.

Luna stayed behind, which caught the trio’s attention. She stalked over to the corner and tapped the younger-looking-man’s shoulder. They began to strike up a conversation. About what, harry had no idea, but perhaps it involved Heliopaths? I do hope they know each other. It would be awkward otherwise. The fellow looks like he’s on a date. 

“Well, I think that went quite well,” Hermione beamed happily, walking out of the Hog’s Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.

“That Zacharias bloke’s a wart,” said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith, just discernible in the distance.

“I don’t like him much, either,” admitted Hermione, “but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say?”

“No. you could’ve said no.”

The three of them smiled, and started back to the castle. Deciding to mill about the library, they curled up in front of its fireplace, absentmindedly reading non-class related books (except for Hermione that is.)

Some time later, perhaps an hour or two, their silence was disturbed.

“I’m joining you guys, don’t mind me.” as Kurosaki flopped himself down onto the sofa.

They gawked at him momentarily, bubble burst.

“By the way, good idea. I approve. Though maybe not such a good idea to meet in such an empty place. Suspicious.”

This made them gawk even more, and the silence continued like a ticking time bomb.

“.....Ichigo.” Hermione’s voice was quiet. “Is that a hickey?”

“Huh?” he motioned for a mirror which she pulled out of her purse. There, upon his neck, were a series of hickies and bite marks that were turning quite purple. “Huh. so it is.” He smirked. “Jealous that you don't have one Granger?”

Her jaw fell to the floor. As did Harry’s. As did Ron’s. And in unison, they all exclaimed…..

“WHAT???”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ichigo woke in the morning from the first restful sleep he’d had in weeks. Running through his messy hair, he smiled a little dopily. He was, officially, no longer a single pringle. Oh Goat-face is going to throw a fit, he chuckled to himself. 

Sliding out of his bed, the teen pulled on a black bro-tank and stalked over to the bathroom. Being the first awake in the dorm, he’d get first shower, to which he was immensely thankful.

“Oh my god.” he gasped as he looked in the mirror, blushing furiously. “Fuck you Byakuya.” The words were said with no real heat, but rather a sense of astonishment. “There’s no way I’m covering these up.” Shaking his head fondly, he reached up to touch the bruises. “You know what?” he muttered, “I won’t do anything to them. Maybe I’ll actually give Umbridge a heart attack.” A cackle in the back of his mind seemed to agree, and so he got on with getting ready for the day.

When he got out, Draco was lounging by the door. “Couldn’t have been quicker?” he sniped, obviously annoyed at not getting first shower. “There had better be enough water, Kurosaki.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 5 minutes. Is not. That long . “It’s a magic school Malfoy, as you’re so fond of reminding everyone. The hot water doesn’t just run out.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the tangerine strands.

Malfoy gaped at him.

“Hai?”

“Your, your neck..?”

“Yes, I know.” A small smirk slid across his face yet again. “Got something to say?”

“Nope!! Nothing at all.” the boy backtracked quickly. “Just didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Sort of thing we tell our aquaintances, you know.”

“Don’t have a girlfriend. Not like it’s your business.”

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly puzzled but disbelieving. “Well then. Didn’t know you were the type for indiscreet makeouts.”

Ichigo spluttered, turning red. “You know what Malfoy?”

“Huh?”

“It’s none of your business and I do not appreciate being interrogated!”

“Um.”

“Now say sorry!!!!”

“Uh, sorry?”

“Thank you.” He almost laughed out loud at the bemused expression on the blonde teen’s face. “Go take a shower.”

“Right. That.”

………..

When they got to the common room, they were once again greeted by a horde of students around the bulletin board. Said sight had been becoming much more frequent, to the point of annoyance.

“Ugh, what has she declared this time?”

“Bans on clubs and student groups!” Pansy peeped up. “Which sucks, but at least it means the Gryffindors have to get their team cleared by Umbridge if they want to play quidditch!”

“Huh?” Malfoy was obviously startled, and pushed forward to read the declaration. “Oh what did those bumbling idiots do this time?”

Ichigo hummed to himself, thinking. This is suspicious timing. Dammit, I knew that place wasn’t a good place to have a meeting. Byakuya and I could hear everything and nobody even noticed us. Any of the patrons could have been reporting to Umbridge. Ugh. He sighed. When he’d arrived at Hogwarts, he hadn’t wanted to really get involved, but...This woman was cruel. She was a dictator and a bully. She took advantage of position regardless of her own lack of power. Ichigo hated her. His eyes bled black for a second and he almost fell over. What was that..? nothing...I must just be tired.

“Whatever. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” and with that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode out to go get breakfast, fellow snakes trailing behind him.

The room happened to already be pretty populated. Ichigo could sense the golden trio over at the Gryffindor table, and he nodded at them as he walked past. Wait, sensed??? As he strode by the Ravenclaw table, Avy grinned brightly at him. Xe gave him a big thumbs up when xe noticed the prominent hickies on the boy’s neck. With mounting terror, the ex-substitute-shinigami registered the Weasley twin’s sending wolf whistles his way.

“Malfoy, if you kill me now, I’ll let you guys hide my body.” He muttered to the platinum blonde, thoroughly done with all the attention.

“Couldn’t you just cover them up?”

Ichigo sent him a flat look. “Why?”

“Because..” he trailed off. The force of Kurosaki Ichigo’s glare was enough to flatten several elephants, not to speak of scrawny magical noble brats. It was a skill that Getaboushi was ridiculously proud of, especially when the teen had sent a dozen hollows fleeing back into Hueco Mundo. Truth be told, it was impressive, but that hadn’t made the event any less embarrassing. Tatsuki had made fun of him endlessly. 

Ichigo sat down at the table forcibly, ending the conversation. He grabbed the acai bowl from the middle of the table and stole it for himself. They were apparently an American thing, but a Hufflepuff had given the house elves a recipe. He was thankful for it. They were quite tasty, healthy, and not as healthy as the english breakfasts.

All of a sudden, hoots sounded the arrival of the day’s post.

“Kurosaki.”

“Hm?” He looked up at Blaise.

“I think you’ve got an owl.”

“I do?” he was surprised. Getaboushi, Goat-face, and co sent him several care packages towards the beginning, but they’d petered out.

“Yeah. and a butterfly? I don’t get it either, mate.”

A butterfly????!! As he looked up, he saw, sure enough, a purple and black swallowtail gliding towards him. He stuck out his finger on instinct for it to land. “Kurosaki Ichigo.” he stated to activate the message.

“Kur-Ichigo. I sent this as I’m sure you’d prefer my voice to an electronic message. I greatly enjoyed our time yesterday and I’m sure you’ll be very happy to know that you’ve inspired much chaos without even being here. My sister is now trying to find which woman apparently managed to seduce me.” Byakuya’s voice stated drly. Ichigo thanked everything that it was in Japanese. “In addition, your sister asks me to tell you that you shall be receiving some home-cooked food. She managed to rope me into weaving kido around it to protect it, so it should stay good for at least a month. Urahara-san says to be careful and let him know if you think anything is up his alley.” the taichou sighed. “I hope this finds you well. I’ll see you soon, Ichigo.” 

The message ended. Daphne turned to the red-head, clearing noticing how much he was furiously blushing. “A message for yesterday’s girl?” She teased.

“Something like that, yeah.” He carefully untangled the package from the owl. Attached to the top was a small letter, which he opened. Inside was a letter from his family, and a list of the included food. (with a little note from Yuzu at the bottom.)

Ramen, several bentos with all of your favorites, teriyaki, dango, yuzu-avocado-tuna sushi, udon, hiyayakko, sukiyaki, yakitori, red bean mochi, matsutake dobin mushi, miso blondies. Byakuya-san and Urahara-san helped me fit it all in! I figured you’d have enough western food and Karin said I was being silly, but I bet you miss home. So here. I tried to get all your favorites. I love you so much Nii-san! Stay safe okay? We need you home in one piece.

-- Yuzu

Ichigo’s gaze softened several degrees as he took it in. How do I have such amazing family? He traced a hand over one of the kido seals he just barely see. He smiled. Gah, why is he this sweet

“Package from home. I’ll bring it back to the dorm and maybe give you guys a taste of good Japanese cooking.”

Turning his gaze to the head table, his brows furrowed. “For now, let’s work on taking that bitch down a peg."

Chapter Text

“So.” Malfoy gracefully plopped himself down on a green leather loveseat in between Ichigo and Pansy. “We’re now members of Madame Umbitch’s special brigade. She likes us.” He grimaced.

“Well, all of us except Ichigo.” Daphne chimed in helpfully.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Thank goodness for small blessings.” The entire group chuckled.

“And,” Malfoy continued,  “as Pansy and I are prefects, we have that to our advantage as well.”

“Not to mention the other professors hate her.” Blaise reminded them. “Especially Professor Snape. She knows she can’t really touch him, but she tried to say that being hired at such a young age made him unreliable.

The other slytherins rolled their eyes. “She’s certainly not one to talk.” Daphne huffed. “She’s young by wizarding standards, an oaf to beat Hagrid, and she treats students worse than Professor Snape treats Potter.”

“And that’s saying a lot.” came a mutter from Zabini.

Ichigo let himself relax into his seat a little. It was comforting; being surrounded by a bunch of weirdos -- even if they were annoyingly bigoted -- warmed the cracks in his heart just a little. They weren’t the Karakura gang by any means -- which hurt -- but truth be told, the only one he really addressed letters to was Chad. They had their promises to each other, after all. Plus, Ichigo knew that despite the misunderstandings festering in his hometown, Chad would willingly follow him past the grave if necessary. He hoped it would never be necessary.

The former-substitute-shinigami drank in the conversation. He hated to admit it, but he was becoming attached to these idiots. He sighed. Idiot. You’re only a bit over a month at this school and you’re already attached? Ichigo knew that was a flaw of his. He created bonds quickly. Platonic love developed fast and after it had he’d do anything for that friend. Even march to his death. Of course, that’s why it always hurt so much when they threw him away. I won’t let them do it again. And the next time I see those lovable idiots in soul society, I’m going on a sparring rampage. Startled by his thoughts, he blinked a few times. It suddenly crossed his attention that he’d thought ‘when’, not ‘if’. Huh.

“Well, a little kitty told me Potter’s defense group has their first meeting tonight. Should I crash it?”

The four of them blinked at him. Zabini raised his butterbeer (which he’d acquired from somewhere), “That’s up to you, mate.”

“Thanks. Real helpful.”

He grinned a shit-eating grin. “You’re welcome!”

Ichigo sighed, weighing the pros and cons in his head. “Ya know what? I think I’ll do it. I can even give you guys some tips to even it out.”

Draco smirked. “Go ahead. Try not to get Potter killed, will you?” The red-head raised a curious eyebrow at him. “The dark lord needs him alive.”

“Hmm. yes, of course.” Ichigo chuckled. “Ja ne, idiots.”

____________________________________________________________________

Harry POV

By the time eight o’clock  (the time appointed for this meeting, as it was after dinner and before curfew, with lots of wiggle room) arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. 

“Alright. So, This is the place we decided on to use as our practice space, so..”

“It’s fantastic!” Cho exclaimed, rather enthusiastically, and several people murmured their agreement.

“It’s bizarre,” Fred leveled a frown around himself. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.”

Harry cleared his throat, trying to draw attention. “Well, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and–er–” He noticed a raised hand. “What, Hermione?” He internally sighed. He loved his frined, but he wished she’d be silent for a second.

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione, as if it were obvious. 

“Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

Harry’s stomach did yet another back-flip.

“Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So–everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?”

Everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly.

“right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning. “And, what Hermione?”

“I also think we ought to have a name,” she said brightly, her hand still in the air. “It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don’t you think?”

“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?” said Angelina hopefully.

“Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?” suggested Fred.

“I was thinking,” Hermione frowned at Fred, “more of a name that didn’t tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”

“The Defence Association?” said Cho. “The DA for short, so nobody knows what we’re talking about?”

“Yeah, the DA’s good,” said Ginny. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army, because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this. It was cut abruptly short from a scoff from the back of the group. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t name it that. I acknowledge its witty and sarcastic, all things I approve of, but seriously. Don’t give Umbitch another reason to hate you.”

Harry gaped. He recognized the highly distinctive voice of their resident transfer student. 

“How did a Slytherin get in??” someone asked in horror, disdain leaking from their voice.

“That's for me to know, and for you to never find out!” he proclaimed with a grin before it fell into a smirk. “I heard you were going against the toad from a certain kitty -- not, Professor McGonagall, don’t you worry -- so I decided to get in on the action.” Oh bugger, we forgot about his teacher cat.

“Uh, Ichigo, I’m not sure that’s a good idea...?” Hermione trailed off vaguely, looking a bit intimidated by the tangerine-haired teen. 

The rest of the room seemed to agree, but Harry didn’t. Ichigo had valuable knowledge: knowledge that he didn’t have. It was a simple fact. “No. Let him stay.”

“Harry, mate! Are you sure? I know we know him, but he is a Slytherin.”

“Wow. You guys are almost as bigoted as the Slytherins.” Ichigo muttered. Harry only barely heard him, almost flinching from the dry tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Ichigo nodded in acknowledgement and respect? Harry thought that was what Hermione had said when she’d tried giving them a not very thorough crash course in Japanese culture. “Alright. Well, you guys are idiots and, based on what I’ve heard, you’ll never hold your own, even in a battle of wits. You like DA? What else could it stand for? Think distracting.”

Harry noticed Luna perk up for the first time that night. “Dance Association? If anybody asks, we could teach a bit of dance. I heard we’re having another ball this winter, so we’ll need it.”

Blinking in astonishment, Harry nodded. “Wow, That’s actually a good idea.” The rest of the room seemed to agree.

Ichigo smiled in pride. “And another way to describe fighting would be dancing.”

“All in favour of the DA?” Hermione asked bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. “That’s a majority–motion passed!”

She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:

DANCE ASSOCIATION

“Right,” said Harry, when she had sat down again, “shall we get practising then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it’s pretty basic but I’ve found it really useful–”

“Oh, please,” said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I don’t think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?”

“I’ve used it against him,” said Harry quietly. “It saved my life in June.”

Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet.

“But if you think it’s beneath you, you can leave,” 

Smith did not move. Nor did anybody else. Harry vaguely registered a smirk forming on Kurosaki’s lips.

“OK,” said Harry, his mouth slightly drier than usual with all these eyes upon him, “I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practise.” It felt very odd to be issuing instructions, but not nearly as odd as seeing them followed. Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. “Right–on the count of three, then–one, two, three–”

The pairs practiced diligently, changing up about halfway through, when Harry got up to critique them.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione called from the other end of the room after quite some time had passed, “have you checked the time?”

He looked down at his watch and was shocked to see it was already ten past nine, which meant they needed to get back to their common rooms immediately or risk being caught and punished by Filch for being out of bounds. He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting ‘Expelliarmus’ and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

“Well, that was pretty good,” said Harry, “but we’ve overrun, we’d better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?”

“Sooner!” said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, said quickly, “The Quidditch season’s about to start, we need team practices too!”

“Let’s say next Wednesday night, then,” said Harry, “we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we’d better get going.”

He pulled out the Marauder’s Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He let them all leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Ichigo approached him after most of the other had left. He’d spent a short period of the time braiding Luna’s hair for her instead of actually practicing, but Harry let it fly. Those two confused him. 

“You’re going to need to focus more combat based at some point.” The transfer student told him, his eyes serious.

“I know. Really, I’ve just been lucky.” 

“I know.”

“Our only foray into dueling was second year and it failed spectacularly.”

“Hmm.” Ichigo grunted. “I can’t teach you how I was taught, unless you enjoy getting almost killed by your teachers.”

What??

“But I can teach you guys some basic forms and katas as well as how to dodge.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Not sorry for crashing the party, by the way.” He raised a hand in farewell as he went to leave the room.”See ya, Potter.”

Harry glanced down at the map and watched the spot marked ‘Shiba Ichigo’ venture down to the dungeons. Shiba? Not Kurosaki? Hmm… interesting...

Chapter Text

Ichigo sat on the floor of the Room of Requirement, cross-legged and eyes shut. He’d arrived early on purpose. Arithmancy had let out early, seeing as Vector-Sensei (he still laughed at the fact that essentially the calculus teacher was named vector. He also hated himself for taking the course, but it would be kind of essential for getting into university. Ah well, Getaboushi would probably finagle his way around the records anyways. The arithmancy- to-calc switch shouldn’t be too difficult) noticed his student’s exhaustion. He’d waved them out with the assurance that this would not be a regular occurence. And so, seeing as the class he took was an optional, post-dinner class, Ichigo decided to go straight hehe straight to the only mildly illicit club’s meeting place.

The former-substitute-shinigami breathed in and out slowly, trying to focus on the world around him. The castle thrummed with magic, which he could feel . He tentatively imagined touching the pulsing network and jolted. Being connected to the castle -- for one who as reiatsu sensitive, or at the very least energy-sensitive -- was akin to being hooked up to a car battery. I wonder if this is what it felt like to others whenever I pushed my reiatsu through them?

Heh, probably , he responded to himself, though it was like hearing than responding.

Okay, breathe. Just...focus. Ichigo scowled to himself. Okay, maybe if I describe it? I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.

“Okay. So.” He tried to relax, unclenching his fists. “It’s this sideways city, except all the skyscrapers are blue. There’s this flagpole -- that’s where Ossan likes to perch. When I’m… not doing so well, it rains. Ossan and Shiro hate the rain. Sometimes, the city floods. At the bottom is a river -- that’s the base of the city, I’m not sure how or why. I’ve drowned in it before, when everything was crumbling apart. The physics there are mine to decide. It’s sideways, but I don’t fall off. Like comic book logic. I haven’t gone into any of the buildings, but I know it’s like a mind palace. Everything about me, my memories, personality, things I’ve done and seen, they’re all there. It’s almost a mimicry of Karakura, but taller. And all glass.” He breathed in deeply and let go, trying to force himself into his mindscape.

Shimmers of blue shone around him and he gasped, slowly peeling open his eyes. But before he could, the loud rabble of teenagers interrupted him, shattering the fragile concentration he’d gathered. 

Ichigo’s eyes flew open, black and gold, feeling absolutely murderous. “Did any of you, perchance, THINK TO KNOCK??!!” Those who had entered -- Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna -- shuddered, except Luna who offered her hand to him. “Thanks Luna.”

“Uh, sorry mate..” Ron offered tentatively, obviously unsure with how to procede.

Ichigo accepted the apology with a sigh, eyes closing. “How are you holding up, Weasley? I know my housemates have been tormenting you. Honestly though, it’s positively friendly to what they could do.” He took Luna’s hand and hauled himself up. “Next time they say Weasley is their king, smile at them and tell them in the sweetest voice possible how honoured you are.”

Ron looked at him with barely concealed terror. “What?”

“Think Umbitch sweet. That sweet.”

Hermione choked. “What in Merlin’s pants??”

Ichigo gave her a look, “My teachers taught me well. Speaking of which…”

“Um.” Harry turned to look at the door, where a black tabby was curled up majestically. “Is that..?” He somewhat dreaded Ichigo’s response. He really wasn’t ready to see the naked lady again.

“Yep. Granger, you don’t need to look so scandalized. I brought her clothes.”

At this, Neville perked up. “That cat, she’s an animagus? Like Professor McGonagall?”

Ichigo simply nodded. “Maybe turn around? She’s a little different.”

“Oh must you prevent me from having my fun Ichigo?”

Hermione POV

All of a sudden, Hermione had a full, uncensored view of who she assumed was Ichigo’s mentor. She squeaked.

“Ichigo! You could’ve given us warning!”

The transfer student stared at her blankly. “I did.” He held out a pile of clothing to the plum-haired woman, who ruffled his hair. Ichigo, Hermione noticed, was very pointedly not looking at her.

“Don’t be embarrassed, kids,” The woman called over to the teens, who were all rather red --except Luna. Hermione really didn’t understand the younger girl -- “You should’ve seen Ichigo the first time! It took him ages for his brain to catch up.” she shook her head fondly, back to the students. “Silly Ichigo, cats don’t talk.”

Kurosaki spluttered. “Well I’ve seen weirder! And then you took ages to put clothes on!”

“Well, as I said then, I could be your only chance to see a woman like me naked.”

What the hell kind of school is Shino Academy??? Hermione’s eyebrows had flown into her hairline.

“Well I didn’t want to and still don’t! I swear, did you do this to Byakuya too?”

Suddenly, the woman was in her student’s face. “Oh? What was that about Byakuya-bo?”

“I swear Yoruichi-san, if you don’t shut up…”

The woman, Yoruichi , smirked. “Oh no, I simply drove him crazy by being faster than him. There’s a reason he’s always ticked off around Kisuke and I.”

Having apparently noticed their utter confusion, Ichigo turned to the six other teens. “Ah, gomene. This is Lady Shihouin Yoruichi, former teacher of class two, and my mentor. Well, one of my mentors.”

“Lady?” Hermione asked. She was brimming with questions. “Is Shihouin a noble house? Why aren’t you a teacher anymore? Why are you trying to make Ichigo blush? Who is Byakuya?” And why were Ichigo’s eyes black when we came in? They’ve done that before, but never all the way. Also, if you, a lady of a noble house used to be a teacher, why are you mentoring Ichigo if you’re not one anymore? It doesn’t make sense… Plus there’s what the Map said. That Ichigo’s last name is Shiba. Why wouldn’t he tell us that? It makes no sense for him to lie.

“Indeed it is.” The Lady, now clothed in an interesting black and orange outfit, sat down on the ground, gesturing for them to join us. “Sorry for traumatizing you earlier,” she directed at Harry. “I was worried about my favorite student over here.”

“Only student.” Ichigo grunted. “Current at least.”

“But yes, The Shihouin clan is one of the Noble clans of the Japanese non-mundane world. The Kuchiki clan  is another, as is the Shiba clan.”

“Shiba!!” Harry shouted all of a sudden, causing the bushy-haired girl to jump. “That’s what the map said your name was!!”

Ichigo blinked, confusion and annoyance etched into his eyebrows. Hermione idly wondered how much stress went into the transfer-student’s scowls. “The map you were using to make sure everyone got back to their dorms? That one?”

“Yeah.” 

Ichigo stood up suddenly, whirled around and punched his hand straight into the wall. “Fucking bastard of a map. I’ll tear it apart.”

“Please don’t? I’m sure you have a good reason, but we kind of need it..” Hermione trailed off. Kurosaki was terrifying when he was angry. It was almost like some primal instinct in her body was telling her to run away from him as fast as she could. She shivered.

He growled.

Lady Yoruichi placed a hand on his shoulder before swatting it lightly. “Ichigo.”

“I know. I’m still pissed that Goat-face didn’t tell me. But I’m over that. It’s more the disrespect towards my mother that I’m pissed at.” He removed his hand from the wall How is he not hurt!!!?? And turned back to them. “Sorry, I..” he sighed. “I use my Mother’s last name. My dad took her name instead of the other way  around. There was no reason for him to keep his, besides, Kukaku is clan head, and as long as I acknowledge that I am a Shiba by blood, she and Ganju are fine with us using my mom’s name. Not enough Shiba’s left anyway’s. Fucking Aizen” He flinched minutely.

“Fuck.” Hermione heard the transfer student’s mentor mutter even as she cataloged the name -- Aizen -- for future reference. “Ichigo, look at me.”

“I’m fine Yoruichi-san.”

“We’re talking about this later. And If you won’t talk to me, I’m calling in Byakuya-bo and Kisuke.” She sat back down, arms resting on her knees. “Back to your questions, Granger-chan. Yes, I’m from a noble clan.” A smirk slid across her face, “Clan head in fact.”

This, surprisingly, made Ichigo’s eyes go wide. “What??”

“They reinstated me.” She pat his head. “No, Kisuke and Tessai haven’t been. It was only because my brother wanted me to take over. Said I’d be better at dealing with all the fallout since I know Kukaku and Byakuya-bo.”

Why would she need to be reinstated? I thought the head of house went to the oldest member of the family with direct heritage….hmm maybe it’s different in japan.

“Now, if you’ll stop interrupting--” she shot her student a pointed glance, “ -- I’ll continue. I’m no longer a teacher because I gave the spot to my student, Sui Feng.”

“You do know, literally everyone else calls her Soi Fon.” Ichigo cut in again.

“Yes I know, but I can refer to my little bee however I choose. As for why I try to make Ichigo blush, it’s fun! He’s very innocent you see, and I love teasing people. It catches them off guard. I could teach you three,” she gestured at Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, “to distract people. Trust me, you get much more information that way.”

Ichigo buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled, “please don’t try to turn my classmates into recruits for the Onmitsukido. Please.” 

Lady Yoruichi grinned a very feline grin, “As for who Byakuya-bo, why he’s Ichigo over here’s bo--”

“Oi!! Shut it!!”

She laughed, smirking behind one hand. “I was only going to say he’s your teacher for class six! And Head of the Kuchiki clan! Why, did you think I was going to say something else?”

Uh… The Golden trio exchanged confused looks.

Ichigo groaned.

“On the topic of Byakuya-bo, you might be seeing him sometime soon. He’s thinking of making a trip to the castle.”

The transfer student perked up. “Is anyone else coming with him?”

The plum-haired lady’s face fell slightly. “I’m afraid not. He’s leaving our favorite moocher in charge of the Sixth, and Rukia’s busy with the Thirteenth.”

“Ah. So ka.”

Her eyes seemed to convey deep sorrow that Hermione didn’t quite understand. Maybe Kurosaki just really missed his friends….

“But! Kisuke and I might come! We’ll leave Tessai in charge of Ururu and Jinta of course, can’t have them and your sisters blowing up the Shouten while we’re gone.”

Ichigo chuckled. “Yeah. Or Shinji.”

“Alright. Now, you six, you’ve heard my explanation. Perhaps you should leave the room and come back in so that it’ll set up for your club.”

Harry nodded. “Good point. C’mon, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna. oh, and you two as well.”

Yoruichi sighed. “It was nice being transformed again. I’ll have to thank Kisuke.”

Ichigo gagged. “Please don’t give me the details.”

She promptly turned back into a cat, leaving a puddle of clothing for her student to pick up.

Hermione turned to the other two thirds of the trio pointedly looking at them. They’d have much to discuss.

Chapter Text

Hermione slid into her favorite position on the maroon couch to the immediate left of the library fireplace -- her favorite. “Ichigo is a bit.. Strange, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I thought that was obvious?” Harry leaned against the armrest. “What do you think of him? I don’t think he’s a Death Eater, but he’s still weird.”

“I agree, ‘Arry.” Ron nodded. The two boys were on either side of Hermione, having been dragged by her to do their homework. “I think he’s dark. I mean, he is a Slytherin.”

“Yes, but--” The girl sighed, “He’s not like the other slytherins.”

It was true. The enigmatic transfer student was many things, but he wasn’t a bully. In all honesty, he seemed to be the opposite. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, chewing on it as he thought. “Maybe he’s lonely?”

Seeing his friends’ confused expressions, he continued. “I mean, his teacher is here but she’s rarely not a cat, and he’s in Slytherin. He probably misses his friends back home. I mean, think about it ‘Mione. How would you feel if you suddenly spent a year at Beauxbatons?”

“I suppose… I’d miss you, and the tower, and our professors. I’d even miss the slytherins seeing as I’m so used to them being annoying. They do make life interesting. I wouldn’t miss Pro-- I wouldn’t miss Umbridge.” The name -- minus the prefix -- came past her lips with so much malice that even the two boys shuddered. 

“We should probably try to befriend him then.” Ron said simply.

Hermione stared at him for a second. “Ronald, that is an incredible idea!!”

“It is?”

“Why haven’t we been doing that!? Oh goodness, we’re just acquaintances and we wanted him to help with the DA! He probably doesn’t know anyone except Luna, Neville, Ginny and us there!” her eyes widened and she started knitting furiously, causing Harry and Ron to exchange twin looks of shared horror. Their friend… well… she wasn’t the best at knitting and never accepted any criticism on it. But, they let her be. It was good for her to have a hobby other than studying.

All of a sudden, a rather loud whisper-screech of “THEY HAVE SHAKESPEARE HERE OH THANK GOD” cut through the relative silence of the library. “I’m actually surprised, what with his portrayal of witches. Huh. I wonder if he was reiatsu sensitive and that’s why he wrote so many ghosts into his plays.”

“Ahem.” The trio saw Madame Pince approach a row of bookcases. “Is there a problem, Mr. Kurosaki?”

“No.” They could hear him blanch.

“Do keep it down, or I’ll be forced to throw you out.”

“Yes, Pince-san.” As soon as she went back to her desk, they heard him mutter -- slightly awed -- “Kami, she’s like Unohana-taichou.”

The trio looked at each other. “Well then,” Hermione stated, picking up her work and knitting, “perhaps we should move.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Hagrid’s reappeared at the staff table at breakfast next day, greeted by enthusiasm from… some of the students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid’s enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of him knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank’s idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off. 

Ichigo observed the giant man with veilled interest. While Hachi was giant as well, he wasn’t nearly as, well, hairy or towering. Of course, he’d heard stories of the man from both his fellow Slytherins and the Trio, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him just yet.

It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Ron and Hermione headed down to Hagrid’s on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Harry was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them.

However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Harry could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.

“We’re workin’ in here today!” Hagrid called  out happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. “Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark.”

“What prefers the dark?” Harry heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. “What did he say prefers the dark–did you hear?”

“Oh, shut the hell up Malfoy.” Kurosaki responded, elbowing the blonde sharply. “I’m sure we’ll find out. And,” his tone grew a little condescending (as did his expression) “I’ll protect you from the shadowy forest monsters if you’re scared.”

“Shut it, prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Harry remembered the only other occasion on which Malfoy had entered the Forest before now; he had not been very brave then, either. He smiled to himself; after the Quidditch match anything that caused Malfoy discomfort was all right with him.

“Ready?” said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. His eyes were wide, filled with kindness and eagerness. “Right, well, I’ve been savin’ a trip into the Forest for yer fifth year. Thought we’d go an’ see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we’re studyin’ today is pretty rare, I reckon I’m probably the on’y person in Britain who’s managed ter train ’em. ‘

“And you’re sure they’re trained, are you?” said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. “Only it wouldn’t be the first time you’d brought wild stuff to class, would it?”

Harry wondered if he imagined it, but he was fairly certain he heard Kurosaki mutter “I’m at least ten times more dangerous, don’t be an idiot.”

The other Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.

“Course they’re trained,” Hagrid scowled and hoisted the cow corpse a little higher on his shoulder.

“So what happened to your face, then?” demanded Malfoy.

“Oh my god Draco! You can’t just ask someone why their face is purple!” The transfer student shot back at him sassily, sounding as if he was quoting someone. Next to Harry, Hermione choked out a laugh.

“Oh my god he knows Mean Girls.”

What’s mean girls…?

“Mind your own business!” Hagrid snapped. “Now, if yeh’ve finished askin’ stupid questions, follow me!”

He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. (Except Kurosaki. Harry wondered if the teen had a death wish.) Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione -- who sighed but nodded -- and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class. Kurosaki brought up the rear, whistling, with his arms crossed behind his head.

They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that no light shone through the branches. The snow that covered the school grounds was nowhere to be seen, absent due to the leafy coverage. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class -- most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.

“Gather roun’, gather roun’,” Hagrid encouraged. ‘Now, they’ll be attracted by the smell ‘o the meat but I’m going ter give em a call anyway, ’cause they’ll like to know it’s me.” He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound. Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. He heard Kurosaki suck in a harsh breath.

A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?”

Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only three other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; Kurosaki, whose eyes were fixated on it in interest, hands clenching; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

“Oh, an’ here comes another one!” said Hagrid proudly, (looking for all the world like a overly enthusiastic parent) as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery-wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. “Now . . . put yer hands up, who can see ’em?”

I mmensely pleased to feel that he was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him.

“Yeah . . . yeah, I knew you’d be able ter, Harry,” he said seriously, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “An’ you too, Neville, eh? An’–”

“Excuse me,” said Malfoy in a sneering voice, “but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?”

“Draco, shut the hell up.” Kurosaki looked pissed. “I see them. They look like skeletal horses with bat wings.” he shivered as he said the last two words. “Gentle though. Or at least? I think so? They are devouring that carcass pretty fast.”

The other Slytherin boy who could see them nodded. “It’s actually kind of interesting….”

Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground, bringing the class’s attention to it. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Harry understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.

“What’s doing it?” Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. “What’s eating it?” Lavender placed a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, drawing her into a side hug.

“Thestrals,” Hagrid stated and Hermione gave a soft ‘Oh!’ of comprehension at Harry’s shoulder. “Hogwarts has got a whole herd of ’em in here. Now, who knows –?”

“But they’re really, really unlucky!” interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. “They’re supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once–”

“No, that’s not right Pavarati!” Lavender shook her head. “She said misfortune had misfallen them! Not would. She said they represented death, but not future death. Remember?”

The girl nodded slightly, looking a little bit calmer.

“No, no, no,” Hagrid chuckled, “that’s jus’ superstition, that is, they aren’ unlucky, they’re dead clever an’ useful! Course, this lot don’ get a lot of work, it’s mainly jus’ pullin’ the school carriages unless Dumbledore’s takin’ a long journey an’ doesn’t want to Apparate–an’ here’s another couple, look–”

Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to Lavender, saying, “I think I felt something, I think it’s near me!”

Harry saw the transfer student raise a hand to pet one of the creatures gently on its head.

“Don’ worry, it won’ hurt you,” said Hagrid patiently. “Righ’, now, who can tell me why some of you can see ’em an’ some can’t?”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Go on then,” 

“The only people who can see Thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

“Oh!..” Ichigo let out a soft exclamation, before muttering, “seen death, eh?”

“Tha’s exactly right,” said Hagrid solemnly, “ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals–”

“Hem, hem. “

The entire class let out a full-bodied shudder.

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge’s fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

“Hem, hem.”

“Oh, hello!” Hagrid smiled at her, having located the source of the noise.

“You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?’ said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid brightly. “Glad yeh found the place all righ’! Well, as you can see– or, I dunno–can you? We’re doin’ Thestrals today–”

“I’m sorry?” said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. “What did you say?”

Hagrid looked a little confused.

“Er–Thestrals! Big–er–winged horses, you know!”

“Excuse me professor?” Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Blaise Zabini raised a hand.

“Yes, Mr Zabini?”

“Have you ever read, or opened, a textbook of magical creatures? Thestrals are very clearly written about in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”

The toad sniffed. “Well, Mr. Scamander was never someone I’d say was highly relatable.”

“Really? Because the Auror curriculum has it as required reading.”

“Yes, but I am not an auror, now am I? I’m your professor.”

Harry fumed.

“Well . . . anyway . . . “ said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, “erm . . . what was I sayin?”

“Appears . . . to . . . have . . . poor . . . short . . . term . . . memory,” muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early (well, he did until Kurosaki elbowed him gently in the gut); Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.

“Oh, yeah,” said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge’s clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an’ five females. This one,” he patted the first horse to have appeared, “name of Tenebrus, he’s my special favourite, firs’ one born here in the Forest–”

“Are you aware,” Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, “that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as “dangerous”?”

Harry’s heart sank like a stone, but he heard a dark chuckle from Ichigo.

“Oh professor, you just admitted, not even a minute ago, that you’ve never read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. And, actually, within that Ministry Approved book Thestrals are classified as less dangerous than essentially most household spells. I read it to prepare for the year here in England. Magical creatures are different in Japan.” he smirked.

“I don’t see why that’s relevant, Mr Kurosaki!”

“Well I do.” he grinned a positively manic look.

Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, “Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,” she mimed walking “among the students” (she pointed around at individual members of the class) “and ask them questions.” She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now.

“You hag, you evil hag!” she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. “I know what you’re doing, you awful, twisted, vicious–”

“Erm . . . anyway,” said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, “so –Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there’s loads o’ good stuff abou’ them . . .”

“Do you find,” said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, “that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?”

Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.

“Yes...actually. I know, surprising.” she reapplied her lipgloss. “He’s honestly more understandable than you at times professor. In addition, speech impediments and accents are not something to make fun of. The headmaster of Durmstrang has an even thicker accent.”

Hermione openly gaped, as did Harry and Ron. Did I just hear a Slytherin defend Hagrid???

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid’s face flushed.

“Er . . . yeah . . . good stuff abou’ Thestrals. Well, once they’re tamed, like this lot, you’ll never be lost again. ‘amazin’ sense of direction, jus’ tell ’em where you want to go–‘

“Assuming it exists, of course,” said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.

“You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?” she asked.

Neville nodded.

“Who did you see die?” she asked, her tone indifferent.

“My . . . my grandad,” said Neville, clearly wanting to get away from her as quickly as possible.

“And what do you think of them?” she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.

“Erm,” said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. “Well, they’re . . . er . . . OK . . . “

“Students . . . are . . . too . . . intimidated . . . to . . . admit . . . they . . . are . . . frightened,” muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.

“No!” said Neville, looking upset. “No, I’m not scared of them!”

“He’s intimidated by you, maybe.” Kurosaki sneered, appearing before her so quickly Harry wondered if he’d apparated. “Maybe it’s not polite to ask whose death traumatized you. And FYI, it was my mom. Xaiver over there? I won’t tell you, since it’s not. My. place. And it’s not yours either, you racist hag.” He snatched the clipboard out of her pudgy hands and looked over it. “Lets see. Hmm, you’ve judged him on his height, speech, appearance, mannerisms, your own close-minded prejudices, but you never once mention actual teaching or experienced.” He snapped the board in half, threw it into the air, pointed his wand at it, cast ‘Incendio!’ and allowed it to burst into flames. “Better.”

“Detention Mr Kurosaki! And I’ll be having a word with your teachers! Mr. Urahara, at least. ” her eyes burned with irritation. “Well, Hagrid,” she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, “I think I’ve got enough to be getting along with. You will receive” (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) “the results of your inspection, in ten days’ time.” She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.

A few seconds after she’d left, Pansy fell to the ground, crying in laughter. “I just can’t! Merlin, that outfit!!”

Kurosaki nodded. “Getaboushi definitely pulls off the green better. That hat of his? It’s all the hat." he sighed wistfully. "It’s a great hat.”

Chapter Text

Harry POV

As the days crept towards the winter months, the golden trio noticed yet another peculiarity of the transfer student. His packages. For one, they were delivered by butterfly, not owl. For another, the packages themselves were odd. 

Ron looked up from his rather large breakfast to notice a simple-yet ornate vase of cherry blossoms resting on the table in front of Kurosaki. “Got another of those odd gifts, has he?”

Hermione nodded. “Third one this week.”

Their enigmatic transfer student had taken to receiving packages of varying intricacy nearly every day, seemingly without his knowledge of who was sending them or why. It happened to be a simple routine. The package would come in, Kurosaki would open it, promptly stare at it for a few seconds, and then smile. Harry would know. He’d now seen it happen over a dozen time and was extremely confused. Ron had asked if it was some sort of more muggle ritual, knowing (as Kurosaki had told them) that the Japanese magical community lived their lives often more integrated into muggle society. That theory had been shaken off by Hermione, and Harry, having never much socialized with the muggle kids his age thanks to Dudley, simply shrugged. 

“Lets go over to Ravenclaw table and sit by Luna.” Hermione suggested. “That way we’ll be able to hear them better.”

The two boys nodded and did so, choosing to sit fairly close to Kurosaki.

It turned out that they had perfect timing as well, seeing as several moments after they’d settled in they saw Malfoy elbow the teen.

Harry bristled, fully ready to go over and give the blonde a piece of his mind. How dare he hurt his own friend! And one that we know no less! I’ll tell him what I think, that stuck-up, irritating, gloriously annoying git!

However, he didn’t, seeing as the elbow jab had in fact managed to snap Kurosaki out of his stupor.

“Huh? What, Draco?” Annoyance creased the red-head’s brow.

“Are you being courted?”

The heck????

Ichigo blinked at him, seeming to not comprehend the question.

“Because these seem like courting gifts.” Malfoy huffed. “Whoever it is is treating you like such a girl. ” Kurosaki, to Harry’s astonishment, blushed furiously.

“And is that a bad thing to be, Draco?” Pansy asked innocently, sweet poison dripping from her voice.

The blonde’s eyes widened. “Nope.” 

Harry stifled a laugh, trying not to crack up.

“Oh Kami.” All of Malfoy’s Slytherin gang -- except Crabbe and Goyle, oddly enough -- turned and looked at the transfer student. As did the golden trio. “I’m being courted.”

“I mean, I thought it was kind of obvious when the gifts started? You know, and when they started costing more?”

Kurosaki looked at Malfoy with wide eyes, looking aghast. “That idiot is spending this much money on me? I’m gonna strangle h-gahhhhhhhhhhh!” His sentence was cut off as he promptly hid in Malfoy’s shoulder to let out a rather drawn out screech. “That old fashioned, stuck up, beautiful, fucking idiot!!! I know that scarf costs probably more than a house but!!” He straightened up and breathed in deeply, pulling out his flip phone?? “Excuse me.”

A blonde Slytherin girl that Harry couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of giggled. “Is this the girl who gave you the hickies?”

“Something like that.” came Kurosaki’s rather mangled response.

“You don’t suppose he has a girlfriend?” Ron asked Harry and Hermione incredulously. 

“Well Ronald, it certainly seems like it.” Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “Honestly.”

Another mangled noise came from the transfer student. “That’s it. Just for this I’m forbidding Rukia from knowing. And my siblings. And Kukkaku. And everyone.”

“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?” Zabini asked, dry sarcasm coloring his voice. 

“No. I’m not. I don’t expect you to understand. In Japan, courtship begins as friends. Over several years . Then discreet dating. Then actually becoming each other’s significant other. Traditionally, and because this is old fashioned, this is happening, gifts would be given to family as a sign of courtship. Or subtle gifts to the person in question. I’m modern! I’m very modern! I don’t fucking know how to court a noble!”

The golden trio’s eyes widened.

“Aren’t you a noble?” Malfoy questioned, smirk present on his face, mush to Harry’s annoyance.

“I’m a Shiba. My family doesn’t care about the rules. Besides, my father married my mother while fairly young. We’re the Kurosaki family: Goat-face, Karin, Yuzu, and I.” He shook his head. “Plus, courtship rituals in spiritual and magical Japan differ from clan to clan. And I am not going to ask Rukia for advice even if I could. Damn midget. If she and Renji aren’t together by the time I see them again, I’m breaking Kenpachi’s face.”

“Kenpachi?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows, leaning over to Hermione. “Isn’t that the name of his class’s and house’s teacher?”

“Yeah, it is.” She frowned. “Hmm.”

Kurosaki’s eyebrow twitched. “Fuck that prissy, stuck up, beautiful noble. Now I’ve got to try to one-up these gifts and I’m a broke teenager. Hmm…” he tapped his chin. “I mean I do have that job at Unagiya-san’s shop…” he trailed off.

The trio exchange looks and slowly slinked back to the Gryffindor table, interested and confused.

“So.” Hermione started, “He’s a noble, and is being courted by one.” she frowned. “I couldn’t find the clan names anywhere in the library. I mean, it makes sense, we are a western school. I just wish I could find more on Japanese culture!”

“Maybe its because they were in isolation for so long?”

Hermione looked at Ron in surprise. Even Harry started. How did he remember that? I certainly didn’t

The second-youngest weasley shrugged. “You told us that before we met Kurosaki.”

“Mm.” 

________________________________________________________________

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione’s prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle -- it would be highly ornate this year, especially with three teachers from Shin’O Academy rumored to be in attendance. There would be another Yule ball, though less gigantic than the year previous. In addition, they had to look after the little ankle-biter first and second years. All in all, they were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.

Harry, who had not had the heart to tell her that Dobby was taking everything she made, bent lower over his History of Magic essay. In any case, he did not want to think about Christmas. For the first time in his school career, he very much wanted to spend the holidays away from Hogwarts. Between his Quidditch ban and worry about whether or not Hagrid was going to be put on probation, he felt highly resentful towards the place at the moment. Dumbledore still wasn’t talking to him, and the mystery of Ichigo Kurosaki was still eluding him. Plus, Umbridge gave him a headache. The only thing he really looked forward to were the DA meetings, and they’d have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with her parents and Ron was going home to The Burrow. The-Boy-Who-Lived endured several days of envy before Ron said, in response to Harry asking him how he was going to get home for Christmas: “But you’re coming too! Didn’t I say? Mum wrote and told me to invite you weeks ago!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry’s spirits soared; the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by Harry’s guilty feeling that he would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. I wonder whether I could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite him! After all, he is my technical guardian. Although he doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, he could not help but think that even if he allowed it, Mrs. Weasley might not want him. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard much from his godfather, not since the last fire incident. To be honest, It made him wish for an oddly-coloured butterfly like the one Kurosaki had. Those seemed impossible to look through. After all, they were butterflies.

When Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays, he was greatly taken aback when the torches burst into flame. Dobby had apparently taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry’s face and bearing the legend: ‘HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!’ The designs were horrendous, everything clashed, and truth be told it made the poor teen feel quite a bit nauseous. He only barely managed to get them down by the time the door opened, admitting a rather bubbly Luna and Kurosaki.

“Hello,” she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. “These are nice, did you put them up?”

“No,” said Harry, “it was Dobby the house-elf.”

Kurosaki chuckled, a sound which nearly caused Harry to have a heart attack. Since when did he laugh?

“Mistletoe,” said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry’s head. He jumped out from under it. “Good thinking,” said Luna very seriously. “It’s often infested with Nargles.”

Kurosaki pushed her under it, eyes sparkling. “Aaaaand kiss! Oh wait, he’s not who you like.”

Harry was then treated to the rare sight of Luna Lovegood blushing and puffing up annoyedly. “Ichigo! Is this the thanks I get for finding you a nice date spot?”

He nudged her arm with his elbow, still smiling. “Nah. But when you actually have a crush, I’ll help you out.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you Ichigo. Do be careful, your eyes are darkening.”

“They are?” he blinked very quickly. “And this, Luna, is why I don’t drink outside of drinking competitions.”

“You don’t drink?” The girl plastered a completely innocent look to her face. “But that’s not healthy! You need water! You’re about 70% dihydrogen monoxide!”

“Did you seriously just call water by its molecular name.”

“Yes I did, and do push me out from the misletoe please. I’d hate for the nargles to mess with my earrings.”

Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.

“Well,” said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, “we’ve finally replaced you.”

“Replaced me?” said Harry blankly.

“With your life model decoy, potter. Obviously.” Kurosaki chimed in. They all ignored him.

“You and Fred and George,” she said impatiently. “We’ve got another Seeker!”

“Who?” said Harry quickly.

“Ginny Weasley,” said Katie.

Luna smiled dreamily and jumped up and down a little in happiness.

Harry gaped at his teammates.

“Yeah, I know,” said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, “but she’s pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course,” she said, throwing him a very dirty look, “but as we can’t have you . . . “

“And what about the Beaters?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. His expulsion from the team hurt like a burning and festering wound, pulling on his heart.

“Andrew Kirke,” Alicia uttered with zero enthusiasm, “and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up . . . “

“Would anyone be willing to tell me what exactly is going on? No? Thanks. Soo helpful.”

It was only at this that Harry realized the teen had, in fact, been talking about alcohol. Not water.

“Are you drunk????”

He brought his thumb and pointer finger real close together. “Teensy bit tipsy.”

“How did you even…..?”

“...get alcohol at Hogwarts?” Alicia finished, slight horror upon her face.

The arrival of Ron, Hermione and Neville saved Kurosaki from answering the question they all wanted to know the answer to, and, within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent Harry seeing Angelina’s burning, reproachful looks.

“OK,” he said, calling them all to order. “I thought this evening we should just go over the things we’ve done so far, because it’s the last meeting before the holidays and there’s no point starting anything new right before a three-week break–”

“We’re not doing anything new?” whispered Zacharias Smith disgruntledly in a voice loud enough to carry through the room. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come.”

“We’re all really sorry Harry didn’t tell you, then,” said Fred loudly. Several people sniggered. Harry saw Cho laughing and felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs.

“If you don’t want to be here, just don’t come.” Kurosaki pointed out, and Harry shot him a thankful glance in appreciation.

“–we can practise in pairs,” said Harry. “We’ll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again.”

“Seriously, latin should be taught here.” he heard the transfer student tell Luna. “All the spells are in it.”

“Oh I know! My mum used Greek in her spells, but, well… that didn’t turn out the best in the end..”

Harry took that in and nodded, getting to work.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

“You’re getting really good,” he said, beaming around at them. “When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff–maybe even Patronuses.”

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a ‘Happy Christmas’ as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before he did; he hung back a little, because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a ‘Merry Christmas’ from her.

“No, you go on,” he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam’s apple. He vaguely saw Kurosaki giving him a wink as he left and almost fainted.

He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff.

He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face.

“Wha–?”

He didn’t know what to do. She was simply standing there, crying silently. The teen wasn’t good with crying girls -- or crying people in general -- and was truly pitifully awkward in such situations.

“What’s up?” he asked feebly, trying to start the conversation.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“I’m–sorry,” she said thickly. “I suppose . . . it’s just . . . learning all this stuff . . . it just makes me . . . wonder whether . . . if he’d known it all . . . he’d still be alive.”

Harry’s heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric. Of course.

“He did know this stuff,” Harry said heavily. “He was really good at it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don’t stand a chance.”

She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort’s name, but stared at Harry without flinching.

“You survived when you were just a baby,” she muttered quietly.

“Yeah, well,” He moved towards the door, “I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it’s nothing to be proud of. Sheer dumb luck, I’d bet.”

“Oh, don’t go!” said Cho, sounding tearful again. “I’m really sorry to get all upset like this . . . I didn’t mean to . . . “

She hiccuped again. She’s still gorgeous despite crying… Harry felt thoroughly miserable. He’d have been so pleased with just a ‘Merry Christmas’.

“I know it must be horrible for you,” she mopped her eyes on her sleeve again. “Me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die . . . I suppose you just want to forget about it?”

Harry didn’t say anything to this; it was quite true, but he felt heartless saying it. It could only hurt her, and that was what he wanted the least.

“You’re a r-really good teacher, you know,” Her smile was a little watery. “I’ve never been able to Stun anything before.”

“Thanks,” this is painfully awkward.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet.

“Mistletoe,” said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over his head.

“Yeah,” said Harry. His mouth was very dry. “It’s probably full of Nargles, though.”

“What are Nargles?”

“No idea,” She had moved closer. His brain seemed to have been Stunned. “You’d have to ask Loony. Luna, I mean. Or Kurosaki. Though I think he’s tipsy right now.”

Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was even nearer to him now. He could have counted the freckles on her nose. (he did. There were seven.)

“I really like you, Harry.”

He could not think. A tingling sensation was spreading through him, paralysing his arms, legs and brain. He wanted to flee, yet he wanted to stay. It was like some morbid desire, consuming him and his muscular functions all at once.

She was much too close. He could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes . . .

______________________________________________________________________________

He returned to the common room half an hour later to find Hermione and Ron in the best seats by the fire. They were the only occupants, the rest of the house probably long since in bed. Hermione’s pen scratched against the letter she was writing. The girl had already filled half a roll of parchment, -- which was dangling from the edge of the table -- but seemed to be intent on penning even more. Ron lay sprawled on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.

“What kept you?” he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione’s.

Harry didn’t answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. He felt so weird.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn’t know whether he was all right or not. 

“What’s up?” said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. “What’s happened?”

Harry didn’t quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn’t sure whether he wanted to. Just as he had decided not to say anything, Hermione took matters out of his hands.

“Is it Cho?” she asked in a businesslike way. “Did she corner you after the meeting?”

Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.

Hermione interrupted him before he even had a chance to speak. “Did you kiss?”

Ron sat up so fast he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry. “Well?” he demanded.

Harry looked from Ron’s expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione’s slight frown, and nodded.

“Well?” Ron finally asked, looking up at Harry. “How was it?”

Harry considered for a moment.

“Wet,” he answered truthfully. And not particularly amazing...no fireworks or any of that. But she is incredible

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

“Because she was crying,” Harry continued heavily, trying to explain the situation and fa_iling miserably.

“Oh,” said Ron, his smile fading slightly. “Are you that bad at kissing?”

“Dunno,” said Harry, who hadn’t considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. “Maybe I am.” He didn't know. That was profoundly terrifying.

“Of course you’re not,” Hermione muttered absently, still scribbling away at her letter.

“How do you know?” Ron asked, quite sharply.

“Because Cho spends half her time crying these days,” said Hermione vaguely. “She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place.”

“You’d think a bit of kissing would cheer her up,” said Ron, grinning.

“Ron,” Hermione huffed in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her inkpot, “you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet.” The delivery was so dry that Harry almost cracked a smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron crossed his arms, irritated. “What sort of person cries while someone’s kissing them?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, slightly desperately, “who does?” he’s got a point!...gahhh

Hermione looked at the pair of them with an almost pitying expression on her face. “Don’t you understand how Cho’s feeling at the moment?” 

“No,” they uttered in unison.

Hermione sighed and laid down her quill. “Well, obviously, she’s feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she’s feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can’t work out who she likes best. Then she’ll be feeling guilty, thinking it’s an insult to Cedric’s memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she’ll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can’t work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that’s all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she’s afraid she’s going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she’s been flying so badly. And she's been flying badly because of the crying. and in addition, you're the boy-who-lived, which makes her even more confused. see?”

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, broken by Ron softly uttering, “One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.”

“Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have,” she shot back nastily, picking up her quill again.

“She was the one who started it,” said Harry. “I wouldn’t’ve–she just sort of came at me–and next thing she’s crying all over me–I didn’t know what to do–”

“You just had to be nice to her,” She looked up anxiously. “You were, weren’t you?”

“Well, I sort of–patted her on the back a bit?” he shrugged in on himself.

Hermione looked as though she was restraining herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty. “Well, I suppose it could have been far worse,” she declared. “Are you going to see her again?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I? We’ve got DA meetings, haven’t we?”

 She sighed impatiently. “You know what I mean.” 

Harry said nothing. Hermione’s words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. He tried to imagine going somewhere with Cho–Hogsmeade, perhaps–and being alone with her for hours at a time. Of course, she would have been expecting him to ask her out after what had just happened . . . the thought made his stomach clench painfully.

“Oh well, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to ask her.”

“What if he doesn’t want to ask her?” said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione waved her hand flippantly, “Harry’s liked her for ages, haven’t you, Harry?”

He did not answer. Yes, he had liked Cho for ages, but whenever he had imagined a scene involving the two of them it had always featured a Cho who was enjoying herself, as opposed to a Cho who was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. To be completely honest, he’d rather kiss Malfoy (ew.) than deal with her crying again.

With a sullen shrug and dramatic collapse into the nearest chair, Harry looked his friends straight in the eyes and declared, “All of a sudden, I completely understand why Kurosaki was freaking out earlier.” 

Chapter Text

The sun rose on the snow splattered castle, bathing the area in a blanket of sparkling white. So bright it was almost blinding, the fresh clean snow made the perfect scene for the winter holidays. The castle had bustled about, preparing huridly for the party Hogwarts was throwing. While not quite as grand as the previous year’s, the staff and staying students of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were invited to attend. In addition, several representatives from Japan would be coming as well. Of course, Ministry officials and peoples of all sorts had been invited as well. A party at Hogwarts was, after all, not one that anyone in their right mind would turn their nose up at. Even the Malfoy family was expected to attend. 

Ichigo blinked his eyes open. His fingers felt stiff, cramped as if he was holding something. He flexed his hand experimentally, looked at it, and found that he’d fallen asleep holding the phone. A small smile stretched across his lips.

“You awake there, Kurosaki?” Blaise called to him as the taller teen fixed his silver and green tie.

Ichigo nodded. “We have classes this morning right?”

“Mm. Then we have the afternoon to get ready. The ball takes place around supper. Then, after the weekend, we’re expected to head on home unless we’re spending break here.”

“Got it.”

“You got a date? We’ll all be expected to get up and dance. Would be pretty embarrassing if the apparently ‘good with the ladies’ transfer student couldn’t get a date~”

The read-head spluttered, “what? I never said that! Who said I’m good with girls?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the hickies?”

Ichigo flopped on his bed. “Nobody’s going to let me live that down are they.”

“Nope!” Blaise responded cheerfully. “That’s not all though. The girls flock to you. You’re apparently handsome and not a perv.”

Even though it was a good thing, it just made him blush more. “But..? I’m taken..? Of course I’m not..?”

“Oh my sweet innocent child.” Blaise swept his hair back, adding a bit of gel as he looked in the mirror.

“I’m older than you!”

“And?”

He grunted and glowered at his roommate. “And for your information, I do have a date. I think. Depends who shows up from Shinhana.”

“Ah, I see. Lover back home?”

Ichigo’s head snapped up to look at him. Lover. Not girl. Not lady. How did he..?

“I’m gay, honey.” Blaise answered the unspoken question. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed all the subtle ways you’ve not said girlfriend.” he took a look at Ichigo’s face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I won’t tell anyone. Not like Draco will really care. He’ll pretend he will, but he’s not really homophobic. Plus, haven’t you seen him eyeing the older boys? His dad is, however. So do be careful.”

Ichigo’s eyes grew steely. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

“Never doubted it. How do I look? I’m going to the ball with Daphne but I was thinking about asking out that cutie hufflepuff seventh year. The one with black hair and freckles?”

The transfer student rolled his eyes. “You look fine Blaise.”

“Well I already knew that. I was hoping for something more like ‘sexy’, or ‘absolutely hedonistic’.”

“Could you pull off a hedonistic look?” he raised an eyebrow. “Maybe once you’re of age.”

“Thank you so much for the confidence.”

“Well i’m oh so sorry the only guy I’ve ever had to give a pep talk to before asking another guy out was myself.”

Zabini smirked and winked. “Well, if you need any tips, I’m a pro.”

“You’re fifteen!”

“And?”

Ichigo’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, don’t be so surprised. You know us Slytherins. Cunning, ambitious. I, for one, am ambitious in my taste in men. See you in class, Ichigo!” and so, he swept out the door, ignoring Ichigo’s spluttered and not very strong protests of ‘Its Kurosaki!’.

_____________________________________________________________________

Lunch saw the golden trio haphazardly eating and chatting at the same time -- as per usual.

“Yo, mate,” Ron prodded Harry. “You have a date to the ball?”

He nodded, strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah. Cho.” Asking her had gone surprisingly well. She had said yes rather enthusiastically, pressed her lips -- which he’d seen trembling -- together, smiled, and kissed his cheek. It was obvious that she still wasn’t over Cedric’s death, which hurt, but she soldiered on. Harry was honestly impressed, and secretly relieved. There was only so much crying he could deal with. Tears, no matter who shed them, were messy.

Hermione smiled at him. “Oh good! I hope she’s doing a little better then.”

“Well,” harry offered up, “there were no tears this time.”

“ That’s an improvement.” Ron agreed, nodding sagely. “‘Mione, I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask, what with how busy we’ve been and all,” He waited until there was no food in his mouth, “Would you go to the ball tonight with me?”

“Me?” genuine surprise darted across her face. After a second, she smiled gently. “I’d love to.” They grinned at each other and Harry sighed in relief. 

“Oh thank god.. I was worried you two would do the thing you did last year.”

The both glared at him. 

“What? It was miserable. You both were raging and in tears. It was not fun.”

At that moment, a loud ring sounded throughout the hall, garnering everyone’s attention. Dumbledore stood at the front of the room, gesturing for them to be silent, and spoke.

“Our guests from Japan have arrived. I trust that you treat them with respect as you did our foreign visitors last year. Several important members of Shinhana Academy have come, as well as a few other guests. While they are unfamiliar with our culture and traditions, so are we of theirs. Do conduct yourself in a way befitting of our school.” with this, the headmaster’s eyes sparkled. “Do have fun, and feel free to interact with our guests, now and tonight!”

And with that, the doors opened. Hermione’s eyes twinkled, excited at the prospect of more knowledge. Through the door came several people. First was a young man, maybe in his twenties? with long dark hair. His very presence seemed to command respect, with a stern and regal face.

“Blimey…” Ron muttered as he observed the first guest.

His clothes were unfamiliar to the trio, but they could tell that they designated some form of status. A dark robe -- tied at the waist by white cloth -- was covered by a billowing white over-robe of a sort, with black diamonds as detailing upon the bottom hem. A fine scarf sat twined around his neck, the ends flowing behind him. But what really drew Hermione’s attention was the hair ornament the man was wearing.

That probably means status. Is he a noble? If so, which family? Maybe Kuchiki? Or Shiba? no, that wouldn’t make sense… ugh! I wish I knew more.

Behind the first man stood two people whom the trio did recognize. A woman with plum colored hair tied up in a ponytail wearing a variation of the black robes the first guest was wearing. The pants were the same, as was the tie, but her shirt was sleeveless. She smirked at the room.

“Hey, is that Yoru-whatever her name is? Ichigo’s teacher?” Harry asked quietly, poking the girl.

“Yoruichi.” she corrected automatically, “And yeah, I think it is.”

“And the man next to her..” Ron swallowed his bite of food, “That’s his other teacher. The one who brought him to Grimmauld place.”

“Oh! Thank you Ron. I was wondering where I recognized him from.”

Said man was walking rather dramatically with his cane, as if he didn’t even need it. His robes -- unlike the others -- were green. The over-robe was similar to the first man’s, with white diamonds at the bottom. A green-and-white-striped bucket hat sat atop his head, casting a dramatic shadow on his face.

One step behind him was a blonde man wearing an almost identical outfit to the first man’s. The slight difference being the tie around his neck.However, they looked nothing alike. A wide, piano-like grin stretched across his face, and his hair was cut in a pageboy style (although at a rather alarming angle).

Harry noticed Kurosaki sit up a bit straighter over at the Slytherin table.

Next came a man who looked startlingly like Kurosaki, and two younger girls. One of the girls -- with light brown hair -- seemed to locate the transfer student in an instant, lighting up as she did so.

Once all the Japanese guests were within the room, Dumbledore spoke again, introducing them. “May I introduce to you Byakuya Kuchiki, Captain and teacher of class six, Head of the Kuchiki clan; Shinji Hirako, Captain and teacher of class five; Kisuke Urahara, former Captain and teacher of class twelve; Lady Yoruichi Shihouin, Head of the Shihouin clan, former Captain and teacher of class two; Isshin Shiba, Head of the Shiba, former Captain and teacher of class ten; and his two daughters, Yuzu and Karin Kurosaki.” Each guest bowed slightly as they were introduced. The students applauded, excited at the prospect of meeting new people from another country. “Now, there will be more time to mingle tonight, but feel free to introduce yourselves to our guests!”

And with that, he sat down, leaving the foreigners to the mercy of Hogwarts’ students.

Almost immediately, the entire group flocked over to Kurosaki -- who looked like he was about to be squashed. The two girls flung themselves at the teen, who had stood up just in the brink of time. He caught them and spun them around, actually smiling for once.

“I think those are his sisters.” George said to his youngest brother.

Fred nodded. “Last name the same and everything.”

Hermione looked like she might have an aneurysm. “But their dad’s name is different!”

“I mean my mum’s name was Evans but I’m a Potter.” Harry snuck in, stunning the others with his casual reference to his parents. “What?”

“Oh nothing!” Hermione squeaked. “Just, it doesn’t work the other way! The wife takes the husband’s name in many cultures, including Japan’s!”

“Well I think that’s pretty unfair.” Harry commented lightly. “I mean, what about same-sex couples? Or if the woman really wants to keep her name?”

Ron nodded. “Mum says we have a cousin like that. Her husband’s name was Hilderdung, and she couldn’t stand a name with dung in it. So she made her husband take her name instead.”

Herminone shrugged, irritated at having been proven wrong. “I guess that could be it. Do you think Ichigo needs any help over there? He looks a bit stuck.”

“Nah.” George chuckled. “I think he’s just fine.”

_____________________________________________________________

Ichigo almost gasped when he saw who’d came. Byakuya! And Shinji! I had no idea he was coming! With Shinji, Geta-Boushi, and Goat-face here, all of his father figures were present. Oh fuck. That makes Byakuya courting me even more awkward. You know what? They don’t care. They’ll just embarrass me half to death. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

Malfoy elbowed him. “Tell me who they are.”

“Dumbledore literally just said.”

“Yes, but I mean their relation to you.”

He sighed. “Alright. Kuchiki-taichou is a taichou. Urahara-san and Yoruichi-san are my personal mentors. Shinji, sorry, Hirako-taichou, has taught me as well. Isshin is my dad. Yuzu and Karin are my sisters aaaannnndd speak of the devil and they will appear. Ack!!!!” he was cut off my several armfuls of flying siblings. “Yuzu! Karin!”

“Onii-chan! We’ve missed you.” 

“I know Yuzu. I’ve missed you two.” Ichigo put the two girls on the ground. “Heya Karin.” he ruffled her hair, grinning when she scowled at him. The grin made her gape.

“Oh my gosh this place must’ve been good for you. You’re smiling. The horror.”

“To be fair, he doesn’t usually smile. Generally, a grimace or a scowl will do.” Malfoy cut in.

“And who are you?” Karin asked, voice a tad harsh.

“Now now, Karin-chan, don’t be mean to your big brother’s friends. Unless you want to clean the store and give Ururu and Jinta a well deserved break?”

Ichigo chuckled as Karin gulped. “No, Urahara-san.”

“Better. Now, that was a good question. Who is this, Ichi-kun?”

Ichigo growled, “don’t be so familiar, old man!”

“Yare, yare Ichigo, how rude!”

Malfoy looked extremely perplexed. “Umm….”

Yuzu plopped down next to him. “Don’t mind them. They’re always like this. Urahara-san is really nice and like a second dad to Nii-chan!”

He nodded and looked up at the older man. “I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

“Ah yes, I do believe I’ve met your father. How interesting that you’ve become friends with Ichigo.”

Draco shivered as those calculating grey eyes swept over him. But, before he could speak, a large smile fell across the man’s face. 

“It’s good to meet you! I’m Urahara Kisuke, as you already know. Now, girls, do stop hogging your brother. Neither Shinji nor Bya-bo have gotten a chance to say hi yet.”

“Oh yes,” Karin’s voice oozed with sarcasm. “Do say hi to Kuchiki-san.”

“Oh Kami.” Ichigo sat back down and faceplanted into the table between Blaise and Draco. “I love my sisters, I really do, but I want to screech. Can I do that? Is that allowed?”

“There there, Ichi-kun.” Getaboushi rubbed his back soothingly. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get Byakuya over here sometime soon.”

Malfoy observed the teacher and student, shrugged, and turned to Pansy. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“Yeah.” she agreed. “Definitely.”

“Several things I’m missing.”

“Oh yeah, that’s for sure.”

Chapter Text

I drew the sneky gang :) from left to right, Blaise, Daphne, Ichigo, Draco, Pansy

i have no idea how to actually add images, so here:

https://theabookdragon.tumblr.com/post/188699551410 

Chapter Text

Chap

Ichigo sighed as Kisuke hugged him, almost melting into his mentor’s arms. They’d moved out of the Great Hall under the guise of a student-teacher talk -- which wasn’t really lying. The teen let himself relax ever so slightly, listening to the beat of Getaboushi’s gigai’s heart. “Its good to see you.”

“Oh? Did you miss me?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

Urahara’s lips twitched upwards. “Is that so? I bet you didn’t miss Bya-kun either then?”

“Definitely not.” The denial in his words was completely neutralized by the fond tiredness in his tone. 

He really is still a child. We’d best remember that, Kisuke reminded himself. He rested his chin on the boy’s head. “How have you been doing?”

Ichigo bit his lip a bit sheepishly. “Okay.”

“Ichigo.”

His name with no honorific attached to it made him stare up at Urahara. 

“Do you want me to chase you around with Benihime for a couple of hours or would you like to tell me the truth?” Eyes gleamed playfully, yet stern seriousness resided in them as he met Ichigo’s.

The former-substitute-shinigami sighed heavily. “Hypocrite.”

“I know!”

That was way too casual Ichigo mentally deadpanned. “Fine. just…. I’ve been, regular, ya know? Talking with Byakuya sometimes lightens the dreams, but..” he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess being around the other Slytherins is good too. I can’t shut people out if they’re living with me 24/7.” It was a casual comment, but the reminder of his situation still hurt. It was a sting to his system, an unhealed wound, poisonous yet without antidote. This new situation was a balm, of course, but that was all it did. Relieve temporarily.

Kisuke sighed to himself. If only Inoue-san and the others realized just how much of an impact they have on him. “Well you can certainly try, but it never works. I know.” pause. “What? Yoruichi always fishes me out of my lab eventually!! Itaii!” 

The last comment was to Ichigo poking him in the ribs. “You have worse bags under your eyes than usual. What are you working on? If its the Soul Society giving you trouble, I’ll fuck them up even without my reiatsu back!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ichi-kun, but i’ve got this handled.” he’s better not ask more. I’m only keeping my project secret from him because they’d never let me tell him. He might not need it in full, but if i can pull it off, it’ll stabilize him before his all-too human body decided it can’t take such a soul.

You’re thoughts are tangling, Kisuke. Unwind them. I have some more ideas we can run once we’re back.

Ah, yes. I’ll do that, Benihime. You always know me too well.

“Now, if I wasn’t mistaken we were talking about you, not me.”

“Ugh!” the exclamation of frustration burst from the teen’s lips with a growl. “Gah, sorry.”

“Yare, yare, don’t apologize. Its okay.”

“Just, the dreams suck and…” his voice fell, “i feel powerless against them. I’ve almost made it to my mindscape, I think, but I keep getting interrupted. I think Shiro is right beneath the surface, but I haven’t made contact. Everyone still thinks i’m straight except for Blaise and I don’t want to keep it that way but at the same time I really do because who knows if the people here are homophobic and I know Byakuya’s in a similar boat even though we’re not telling Soul Society and I miss everyone and I’ve missed you and the others and --”

“Shhhhh. Breathe. There you go. Things are a right mess, eh? Don’t tell me you’ll let them consume you. You’ve stirred up such a racket her anyways! If you don’t cause more havoc I’ll be very disappointed in you. You’re a fighter, Ichigo. And it’s okay to feel like the world is crumbling sometimes. You’ve got people to hold you up.” the ‘I’m one of them’ went unsaid, but clearly heard.

“But I..”

“No arguing. I know how eager you are to get back on your feet for real. Rest, Ichigo. Ask Byakuya to spar with you hand to hand. Learn here. Make connections. Whether you fully come out is up to you, and all of us will support you any which way.”

“He’s right, you know.”

Ichigo looked up, startled. A large hand landed on his head, heavy yet gentle. “Son. You got this.”

“Dad?” he had been caught by surprise so much that he didn’t even call him Goat-face. “Gak. What is this, pass the Ichigo?” He deadpanned snarkily as he was pulled into a crushing hug from his father.

“Precisely. Yo, Isshin! Pass your kid here!”

“Shinji? Ohhh no.” Ichigo’s face took on a very odd expression as he braced himself for an odd greeting. Yet, all he got was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into yet another hug. 

“You’re doing well, kid. Even if I haven’t seen you in far too long, I can tell you’re putting your all into everything, as usual.” his piano-like teeth all visible, he sighed. “And call me up if ya need, kay? Hiyori would kick my ass if I hogged ya.”

The strawberry-blonde chuckled. “Yeah, of course. Now, are you three going to stop crushing me by your own volition, or am I going to have to run for it?” Okay it is really weird to have all three of them gang up on me like this. Three parental figures. At once. Okay, this is getting just a touch too weird for my tastes.

They all stepped back a little, giving him space. 

“Alright.” Getaboushi adjusted his hat and poked his student’s cheek. “I’m going back in. want me to send Byakuya out?”

Ichigo shook his head. “Nah, he’ll come out when he wants. You might have to rescue him from the students though.”

Kisuke gave a sharp nod and turned to head back in, all but dragging Isshin along with him.

“So. All this, huh? Certainly magical.”

“You can say that again.” Ichigo groaned. “How’s Sakanade?”

“Still flipping me through my inner world.” He sighed and braced himself against a wall. “She was surly for quite a while, and with good reason. She’s not like your Shiro,”

“I know.” Ichigo’s voice was quiet. He’d give anything, or almost anything, to even have Shiro try to take over at this point.

“She hisses if I get too close, and I’m sure it’ll take a while for her to learn to trust me again.” just as it will to get me to trust myself again. That’s how this works, after all. Two sides of the same coin. “My shikai and bankai work, which is really as good as I could hope for at this point.”

“Mm. Captain?”

“Yeah. Taichou of the fifth again. Goodness knows Hinamori needed the help.”

The teen’s face dropped. “How’s she doing? And Toshirou?”

“Ah..” he sighed, the exhalation of air expressing a multitude of painful emotions. “I’m not sure she’ll ever fully recover. The mental damage done to her, well…. Unohana-taichou thinks it’ll take time. Toshirou -- who’s a pretty good taichou, by the way. I hadn’t met him before -- keeps trying to mend their friendship, but the war destroyed their bonds with each other so deeply, its actually a bit heartbreaking. I’m glad he has his lieutenant. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, despite the mask she puts on.”

“Rangiku-san?”

“That’s the one. You know, Matsumoto Rangiku-san was m--”

Ichigo slapped a hand over the other vizard’s mouth. “Don’t even start.”

“Aww, Ichi you’re no fun.”

He raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that news to you?”

Shinji laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Nah, ya know I like fooling with you. You going to go back in or no?”

“Nah. I’ll see you guys later.  Want to get some homework done, and then its going to take ages to get into whatever Yoruichi got made out of those fabrics we picked out.”

“Shihouin-made formal wear?” Shinji whistled. “Yeah that’s going to take ages. I’ve seen the portrait of Yoruichi-san from when she became clan head. Furisode with Uchikake.”

Ichigo sweatdropped. “But people haven’t known the art of layering Uchikake in years!”

The blonde laughed. “Yes, but some of us are very old.”

Oh yeah. he mentally facepalmed. Unohana-taichou probably knows. And I bet others do too. And its probably passed down. I’m an idiot.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Have fun~” and with that, the Vizard strode back into the great hall.

_______________________________________________________________

Kisuke POV

Kisuke slid into a seat at the table with the Hogwarts teachers, deining to not remove his hat. 

“You must be Professor Urahara. I’m Minerva Mcgonagall. It’s an honor.” The woman sitting next to him offered her hand. She was a stern-looking lady, and had an aura of power about her. Interesting. Her spiritual energy is nothing remarkable, but it’s obvious she’s more than advanced in the western magical arts. And someone who doesn’t take BS. I can respect that.  

He smirked a little. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” He took her hand to shake. “Kisuke Urahara.” Recalling what he knew of the castle, he continued. “I hear you teach transfiguration?”

Mcgonagall nodded, seemingly becoming more comfortable. Kisuke took in her posture, where she kept her wand (a red leather holster on her right wrist), and her lightly veiled looks of distrust towards the much more squat woman sitting besides her as they talked. The conversation was really quite wonderful, as they quickly fell into a discussion of energy theory and conversion laws. 

“So, what would happen if you didn’t manipulate a substance correctly? If you’re sustaining the fall of electrons through energy levels to create a constant light source, such as lumos, it could easily go out of control.”

“Precisely. That’s why we teach as much control as we can to our students. Unfortunately, not many students choose to pursue education past Hogwarts, so many parts of our art is lost, but more knowledge is certainly helpful. I have a doctorate in theoretical physics and one in magical theory, I know far from everything, I try to prepare our students as best I can. As I’m sure you know, a wrong word, pronunciation, or movement can prove deadly. While our magic is in fact a soft magic system, there are still things we cannot do due to the laws of muggle science.”

“Well, it is said that magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Of course, that’s not precisely true, but everything ties into science. I focus primarily on research and scientific applications of our magic back in Japan. Our Kidou is different from the magic taught at Mahoutokoro, however we do have quite a few students who attend both schools.  Yumichika, one of the most talented of class eleven, for instance.” Ichigo’s cover is brilliant. We taught him well, Yoruichi. He thought over to her, getting a throaty chuckle back in response.

“I see.”

“We interact more with the mundane world, as our students -- once graduated -- have the responsibility of protecting both magical and mundane civilians. “I have the pleasure of creating technology powered by reishi or magic instead of solely electricity. That’s how Kurosaki-kun can text people here. The wards fritz out electricity, but not energy itself, obviously.”

“That’s quite brilliant. Would you be willing to show me the mechanics later?”

Kisuke grinned, he could feel Benihime excitement at the prospect of experimenting with the castle’s ambient magic. “I’d love to.”

“Hem, hem.” a rather unpleasant and unexpected noise of throat-clearing came from Minerva’s left. “May I speak with you, Professor Urahara?”

Kisuke plastered a smile onto his face, sending an image of himself fake-gagging to Yoruichi. I’m so glad we learnt how to do this when we were Omi

Have fun! She’s the one we told you about~

That sobered him up real quick. So this is the woman who hurt our kid. She’s not getting away with that. No never. “Of course. And who are you? It’s considered bad manners in Japan to not introduce yourself.”

“Oh!” She giggled, an irritating fake sound which made his skin crawl. “Dolores Umbridge, High Inquisitor.”

“Kisuke Urahara, Professor and Founder of the department of Research and Development. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? We created the anti-predator hair and clothes pins that utilize burst of concentrated energy to fend off and identify assaulters. They’ve been on the market for three years now.”

“Oh of course!” she forced out another of those high-pitched laughs “I’ve seen the paperwork for authorising those.”

You mean they’re not yet? The inventor screeched internally, eyes narrowing. “Yes, yes. Now, you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes!” She squared up her shoulders -- which really only created an odd shrug which made her seem far less threatening than she probably assumed -- and spoke. “ Your student has caused much trouble! He destroyed my clipboard and notebook, he contradicts me, doesn’t always raise his hand in class, and is convinced that he and other students need to learn defensive magic! (which is, by the way, not part of the ministry-approved curriculum!) He is offensive, and disruptive! “ Her face grew red in fury, despite her relatively calm posture.

“Is that it?” Kisuke looked bored. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not sure what your teaching style is, but in my years of experience, it’s useful to let students speak their minds. A healthy debate gets the brain going, after all. We can’t afford to be close-minded, especially in times such as these. I do agree that it was rude of him to destroy your property--”

“Rude?!?”

“-- but I’m sure he already served a detention for that.”

“He did.” she confirmed, increasing Kisuke’s urge to strangle her.

“As for the defensive part, he is completely correct. The world is dangerous. People are dangerous. Everyone should know how to protect themselves. At Shinou we teach our students both martial arts and protective magic because the world isn’t safe. Look at a magical or mundane newscast and you’ll see what I mean. Kurosaki-kun has gone through a lot in his 16 years of life, as have many of the students at Shinou and here at Hogwarts. Good day, Professor.” And with that, he tilted his hat a bit over his eyes and stood. “I’d like to meet some more of the professors, so, with your leave.” The ‘with your leave’ was sassy, yet the entire speech was cloaked with a veneer of such polite disdain that the toad-like woman held the expression of a fly being shocked by lightning. It was very satisfying.

________________________________________________________________________

Ichigo stood in front of the mirror in the room of requirement -- which had morphed into a rather elaborate dressing room, complete with a hot spring similar to those under the shouten. He’d bathed and dressed in the nagajuban and hadajuban, all tied together with the koshi himo. The undergarments were extremely soft and light, much to his relief.

A soft woosh of air notified him of Yoruichi’s arrival with the rest of the outfit.

“I feel almost as if I were presenting you to your clan for your coming of age ceremony.” she remarked softly as she helped him get into the outer layer of the kimono, avoiding looking at him in the mirror. 

“Bit different, though.”

“Of course. But this will still be your first time in full formal clothing for such an event as well as the first time a member of another clan sees you presented formally. Both Bya-bo and I are here.” She crossed the kimono left over right and tied it in place with another koshi himo, folding down the extra fabric.

“Yeah.” he nodded. “I don’t think i’ve ever even touched a kimono as elaborate as this one.”

“Probably not. It’s 100% silk, with kidou woven into it for protection. It’s a gift.”

“I-” Ichigo was stunned speechless. “You didn’t need to.”

“I know. But you’re my kit. I protect you.” she said, her voice careless in a way which belied how much she truly cared (hint: it was a lot).  The goddess of flash wrapped the obi around him and tied it the back carefully before helping him tie on the hakama. Then, she slid his arms through the kataginu, finishing the outfit asides from the tabi and shoes.

“Wow. Edo period? I think?”

“With a modern twist.” she poked his cheek, smiling. “Turn around. Let me get a look at you.”

He did so, smile a little timid. “What do you think?”

“Oh wow. You look incredible, Ichigo.”

And he really did. The kimono itself was black with a red collar and lining, made even more elaborate by a blue flower motif adorning the robe. On his right shoulder of the kataginu rest the sign of the Shiba clan, with the kanji for Kurosaki adorning the left. His hakama were a dark red, almost the color of fresh blood -- or red roses. The stripes were black, and the blue flower motif lay asymmetrically across his left hip and side. The pleats were perfect, not a crease out of place. “I don’t think I’ve ever dressed up this much. I'm usually so casual.”

“You’ll knock them all out.” Yoruichi brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and tapped his cheek, raising his chin so that she could do his eye makeup. Gold eyeshadow and dramatic yet soft eyeliner framed and emphasized his eyes. Paired with just a bit of soft lipstick, he seemed to glow. “Alright. I’ll get ready, and then Kisuke and I will be right down. Go get them, Ichigo."

Chapter Text

A nightfall hit, all the inhabitants -- and guests -- of Hogwarts made their way to the Great Hall. It was decorated elaborately -- in Harry’s opinion, even more so than the year prior. The starry night sky shown on the ceiling seemed even more beautiful than norma, with shining chandeliers crafted from only the purest ice hanging in midair, suspended by intricate spellwork. A Hannukiah stood in one of the Hall’s corners, 3 candles plus the Shamash lit. Harry smiled at that. One of the members of the DA was Jewish and had explained what Hannukah was during a previous meeting. (Harry quite liked the idea of the celebration of light personally and had badgered the poor teen about it for nearly half an hour)

In the opposite corner a majestic christmas tree towered above the students heads. It was decorated with more baubles than Harry had seen in his life, and was actually quite tasteful. 

Hundreds of candles decorated the edges of the floor, some softly changing colors. Within the hall itself were round tables, each set with cutlery and dishware that must’ve cost a fortune. Upon each sat a centerpiece of a solar motif, berries, pinecones, and crystals.

Wow. Harry took it all in with wide eyes. Small fairies flitted around the room, causing no harm but instead letting the room be filled with additional soft lights. This is the most beautiful, and most magical thing i think i’ve ever seen.  

And it was, truly. Despite having gone to Hogwarts for five years now, nothing had met his expectations of magic as much as this did. Harry’d never had a winter holiday like this, not ever. The Dursely’s had him make elaborate meals for them of course, but he was never able to take part. That was something Hogwarts had changed, and it filled him with a warm fuzzy feeling. But this, this intricate, glistening, holiday wonderland shining with lights -- this was something that not even last year’s Yule ball could beat. I love it

Harry held out his arm to Cho for her to take. She’d actually said yes when he invited her, which he’d decided to count as a win. (She’d also confided in him quietly that Cho was actually her surname and that her first name was Changyeon, which meant blue, or azure. There’d been a mixup, as her name had been written surname first -- as was correct in Korea -- but they thought that meant it was her given name. She’d decided she didn’t want to bother anyone by making them fix it. However, when asked if she wanted him to refer to her as Chanyeon, she’d shook her head, telling him that she was used to Cho and nobody would know who he was talking to earlier. He’d nodded, and privately resolved to call her by her real name in private.)

She was dressed in beautiful traditional korean dress robes, something she called Hanbok. (Harry still wasn’t quite sure what they were, and so resolved to research it -- at risk of acting like Hermione) Her’s had a white top and blue bottom, with a band of silver on the top separating the two. With her hair tied up and pinned in place, Harry couldn’t help but think she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

“You look beautiful Changyeon.” He whispered to her.

She blushed and took his arm. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Harry.”

Now it was his turn to be flustered. This year he’d actually gotten his dress robes from a boutique in a hidden corner of Diagon alley. (it’d been suspiciously close to Knockturn alley, but he didn’t really care at this point) The-Boy-Who-Lived was dressed in skinny pitch black slacks with gold detailing at the sides of the ankles and hips with a deep red silk dress shirt. Over that sat a heath grey vest which buttoned down the front, cinching his wait. And, on top of everything, was a high collared open jacket which flared out at his waist and came to right above his knees. It was his first outfit that’d he’d ever bought and picked out himself asides for his school uniforms, and he really felt quite good in it. “Thank you. I picked it out myself, so I wasn’t quite sure if it was good. Is it?”

“Well nothing could be worse than Ron’s last year.” she said lightly, letting out the closest thing to a giggle he’d heard from her all year.

“Well that’s definitely true.”

“Hey. I know they were awful, but I managed to get Mum to let me get a new pair this year.” Ron’s voice came from behind the pair.

“Ron!” Harry spun around and smiled at his best friend, gaping for a second. “You...actually look good!”

“Thanks Harry.” he responded, fond sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Ginny found them for me. Said the jacket would look good on me and black and gold suit me?”

“Pun intended.” Cho muttered under her breath, making Harry crack a smile.

“She’s right. You look good. You took Hermione this year, right?”

“Yeah mate, she’ll be down soon I think.”

“Great!” Finally. Hopefully this year there won’t be as much drama.

“Actually, Ron, I’m right here.”

Ron turned to smile at the third of their trio. “You look wonderful ‘Mione.”

“Thank you!” She smiled brightly. “I wasn’t sure if it’d look good, you know me.”

Harry nodded sagely. “Did you do your own hair?” She had it up, intricately braided and spiralling into a bun with a couple strands twisting around her face. A couple gold hair pieces covered the braids in places.

Hermione shook her head. “Oh no, Angelina did it. She said she’s been wanting to do my hair since I was a first year but I wouldn’t let her. Can you believe it? I mean I never really let people do my hair, but I can’t believe she wanted to do mine! She’s the first person who’s ever asked to!”

Harry looked at her gently. “Hermione, you’re great and more people know that than you think.” He watched her link her arm in Ron’s with a grin and adjusted his glasses. “Now that we’re all here, want to go on in?”

“I think we shall.” Changyeon looked him in the eye and they moved away from the doorway. 

The four of them made their way over to the table that they had on their placecards, table 7. Harry peered at the other cards at their table and blanched. Draco Malfoy, Pansey Parkinson, Luna Lovegood, Ichigo Kurosaki, Byakuya Kuchiki, Kisuke Urahara, and Yoruichi Shihouin. 

“Well then. This’ll be an interesting table.”

“Huh?” Hermione raised an eyebrow and looked where he was looking. “Ah. Do keep it civil please? I’d like to enjoy this.”

“I will! I’m not that bad.”

The other three shook their heads. “You kinda are Harry.” Ron told him with fake gentleness.

“Whateverrr.”

They took their seats, delighted to find their glasses filling with whichever non-alcoholic beverage they wished.

Pretty soon, more people began filing into the Hall. The four teens watched two of the Shinou adults -- Ichigo’s dad and the man with piano teeth -- join McGonagall at her table. Ichigo’s dad was wearing an actual suit, while (was it Shinji? Harry thought it was Shinji) was wearing the white overrobe from before on top of a black silk shirt which tied at the neck with a pair of slacks. It looked pretty classy in Harry’s opinion.

“Potter.” A smooth voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up, suddenly making eye contact with an impeccably dressed Draco Malfoy. “Didn’t think you’d wash up this well.”

I suppose that’s supposed to be an insult, but I’ll take it as a compliment. “Right back at you, Malfoy.”

“Oh, do come off of it Draco.” Pansy Parkinson rest her head on the blonde’s shoulder. “We all irritate each other, but I’m sure you’ll be civil, hmm? Otherwise Millicent and I will make your night a living hell.” she said, smiling innocently.

Ron and Hermione gaped not at all subtley.

“Does that mean you’ve finally done something about your lavender problem?”

“I don’t think they mean Gryffindor Lavender.” Harry whispered to Hermione, who nodded.

“Mm. Something like that. Daphne nearly kicked us out of the dorm because of it.”

“Speaking of you little gang, Where’s Zabini?’ Ron questioned, still hostile but obviously trying.”

“Trying to get laid.” Pansy deadpanned. “He’s going with Daphne as friends but they’re both going after the older Hufflepuffs right now. I know Blaise had a specific partner in mind.”

“Erm.” Harry wasn’t quite sure what to think. Yes, they grated on his nerves, but now that they weren’t quite so actively insulting them, he realized they weren’t that bad.

“Ichigo’s working on Draco.” Pansy stage-whispered. “And all of us really. Apparently this whole castle irritates him, attitudes included.”

“Kurosaki??” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Is there another one?”

“No, I just really don’t understand your cohort.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Malfoy huffed. “Friendships in your house break up and reform near constantly.”

“Excuse me??! I’ll have you know that the friendships in Gryffindor are very stable!”

“Are they though?” Malfoy almost looked bored as he sipped from his glass. “You three fight plenty. Yes you always come back to each other, but its pretty obvious when you get into more arguments with each other than you do with me.”

The golden trio looked sufficiently chastized.

Cho waved softly. “Now boys, fellow ladies, calm down. As Pansy said, lets be civil and enjoy tonight, okay? We’ll have three different houses and two schools at this table. So Settle. Down.”

“Speaking of Shinou, where is Kurosaki?” Malfoy nudged Pansy with his elbow.

“He was getting ready when I left according to Blaise.”

He nodded and the table settled down, silence only interrupted when Ichigo’s teacher (the man, Urahara), and the man with long, black hair arrived at the table. The second man was dressed in odd, beautiful red and black dress robes, hair ornament still upon his head. Urahara was in a suit with a dark green dress shirt, no hat atop his head.

The long haired man nodded at the teens. “I’m Byakuya Kuchiki, please refer ro me by my last name. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! Hullo! I’m Harry.” Kuchiki raised an eyebrow. “Harry Potter.”

Ron waved. “Ron Weasley.”

Cho bowed in her seat in acknowledgement. “Cho Changyeong. I go by Cho here though.” Harry smiled at her, glad to hear her using her full name.

“I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

“And I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

Urahara nodded at them again. “Well its nice meeting Ichigo’s classmates!” he grinned a rather dangerous smile. “So, Malfoy-san, how much time does my student use on his phone?”

“Uh.” Malfoy was astoundingly eloquent.

Kuchiki scowled and glared at Urahara. “Urahara…”

“Yes, Bya-bo?”

The teacher was obviously going to respond when he froze, staring at the door. Harry, curious as to what he was looking at, poked the other three that he was with and turned his head towards the door. And he could really see why Kuchiki and Urahara looked so shocked and proud at the same time.

Standing just inside the hall was Ichigo Kurosaki, dressed to the nines in what Harry assumed to be Japanese dress robes.

“Wow.” Hermione intoned, and for once, instead of arguing, Ron nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

Byakuya stared, stunned. Of course, he knew the substitute Shinigami was handsome -- he was courting the man -- but it had never hit him quite how beautiful Ichigo was. Sure the Womens’ Shinigami Association had wrote an entire article about Kurosaki’s abs, but that wasn’t something he particularly cared to listen to. Gossip, while helpful, was too insipid for the noble’s liking.

“Wow.” Intoned one of the young women at the table -- Pansy, he believed her name was -- and he had to agree. A sharp sensation poking at his ribs caused Byakuya to glare at Urahara. 

“Bya-bo~ pick that jaw of yours off the floor and bring him over here~”

The younger man scowled, before schooling his expression into a polite and neutral one, standing up and walking over to Ichigo. Although most of the eyes currently in the hall were already on them, it distinctly felt as if it were only the two of them. 

“Kurosaki-san.” Byakuya dipped into a bow. “Would you allow me the honor of escorting you to your seat?”

Ichigo’s eyes widened, seemingly taking the other man in. He bowed in response. “I would greatly appreciate that, Kuchiki-Taichou.” he straightened up and took the arm offered to him by his boyfriend.

“You look exquisite.” Byakuya whispered gently as he guided him to the table. “I heard Shihouin-san wrangled her clan into producing the outfit?”

Ichigo chuckled, eyes brightening. “Yeah. And they’re just as heavy as I was fearing.”

“Well, you look even more incredible than I had expected in them. Especially as…” he trailed off, an uncharacteristic blush high upon his cheeks. Taking a steadying breath, he continued, “especially as I’ve only seen you in informal clothing on this plane or your shihakusho… in varying states of disarray.”

The former-substitute-shinigami nearly choked. “Is this your way of saying you enjoy it when my top gets nearly completely torn off?”

“Of course not. That would be highly improper of me.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure~”

“You’re spending too much time with the cat and Urahara.”

“Oh?” Ichigo smirked, “wow, I can’t see how that’s possible at all.” he paused, “I’m fairly certain they haven’t corrupted me fully yet?”

Byakuya smiled a rare smile, “You’re already weaving innuendos into sentences in addition to Urahara’s vagueness. Plus they’re your mentors. It really was only a matter of time.”

They both arrived at the table and Ichigo sat himself down at the spot indicated by the placecard. “Yo, Draco, Pansy, Potter, Cho, Granger, Weasley. Heya Luna.”

Urahara made an expression that could only be considered a pout. “Don’t we get an acknowledgement?”

“Nope!” Kurosaki said cheerily. “They really dressed up the hall for this, didn’t they? I honestly still think its a little ironic that a school of magic focuses solely on Christmas and no other holiday during the season, so this Yule Ball makes a lot more sense.”

The curly haired girl -- Granger? -- perked up at that. “Right? I never questioned it when I was younger -- my family has always celebrated Christmas after all -- but it really is odd! I’m glad they’re at least acknowledging other cultures this year. Hogwarts is very European centered.”

Urahara smiled that unsettling smile of his. “That’s quite right Granger-san! British Wizarding society as a whole has a problem with prejudice, whether magical, racial, ethnic or religious. While there are wizarding societies all throughout the world. Perhaps the government needs to make connections with the others, hmm?”

Byakuya fought the urge to roll his eyes with practiced ease. He could see what the mad scientist was doing, planting the seeds of chaos right into the minds of these children.

The blonde slytherin nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. “It’s something I’ve noticed too. Those of us of older families are often not the norm in the eyes of the Ministry. I know I don’t share the opinions magically of everyone at the table, and I am trying to keep tonight civil. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see other issues.”

Kurosaki smiled, and leaned over to Byakuya. “I’m working on him. I think I’ve made some progress, what do you think?”

“I think you’re doing a brilliant job, Ichigo.”

“Why thank you~”

A loud ringing sounded throughout the hall, guiding those gathered to focus up on the head table. The headmaster of the school stood up, dressed in a floor length robe colored garishly in red and green. “Welcome students, faculty, and honored guests! I invite you all to partake in our Yule feast and engage in dance! We have the Weird Sisters to be our music for the night and I hope you all take the chance to enjoy their presence. For those not in the know, we have several professors from the school Shinhana in Japan here as guests. If you are one of these professors, please stand so that any who are curious can find you later.”

Ichigo chuckled as Byakuya stood up, all prim and proper. Urahara stood and tilted his hat at the rest of the hall, while Shihouin simply basked in the curious gazes. At another table, Shinji and Isshin stood as well. All the captains, whether current or former, commanded attention, and the rest of the occupants of the hall seemed almost drawn in by their presence.

“Thank you. You may sit. I am glad that even in this time of turmoil, we are able to hold an event where many of different viewpoints and walks of life are present. I hope we can take tonight as a break from some of those differences, simply enjoy the holiday and the time of year. Those of you who wish to perform rituals, several areas have been set up in the garden and around the grounds. Do try to avoid the giant Squid, they don’t take kindly to random strangers in the lake. And with that, all I have to say is: Enjoy!”

And so, the ceiling burst into spiraling patterns of nebulas and snowflakes, the candles changing colors gently to set the mood of the revels down below. The Yule Ball 2.0 had begun.

Chapter Text

Ichigo let a smile cross his face as music filled the air. It wasn’t exactly the kind that he preferred to listen to – wizarding music seemed to be an entirely different genre than what he was used to.

“Alright, so,” he took his seat and stared at the currently empty plate in front of himself, “I’m guessing this works differently than usual meals?”

Harry jolted a little, realizing that he was in fact asking a question (and expecting an answer, no less), before opening his mouth to answer.

“Yeah, last year I think there was a menu, and then you just told the plate what you wanted?” The boy looked at his plate with a considering expression, “Beef Wellington, please.”

The whole table joined him in staring at the plate.

Before even a few seconds had past, a lovely food-laden plate appeared, taking the place of the previously empty setting. Ichigo had to bring himself to not gape at it, for the pastry looking delicious. Yuzu had gotten into a pastry phase a couple months previously, and as such, Ichigo knew all about the difficulties in achieving a perfect puff pastry. And yet, in front of the-boy-who-lived was a perfectly golden, flaky pastry, steam coiling off of it and dancing gracefully into the air.

“Well!” Getaboushi clapped his hands together, lips curling into an unholy smile, “how lovely! I do always appreciate a perfect piece of meat. What do you think Yoruichi-san, when in Rome?”

She laughed, throwing her chin up a bit in the process, bringing attention to the sharp points of her teeth. Perfect for ripping into enemies , a part of Ichigo preened at the showcase of his mentor’s deadly capabilities. 

“Do as the locals? Why, I don’t see why not, Kisuke. Plate-san, Filet Mignon please. Rare. Preferably bloody.”

Ichigo almost laughed as he noticed the rest of the table noting the lack of honorific after Getaboushi’s name. They’d at least partially gotten used to the lingual difference between Japanese and English, and as such, the derivation from the norm caught them off guard. Instead he rolled his eyes at them.

“Soo, Byakuya, how much of a betting pool is there at Shinhana about those two?”

Byakuya visibly suppressed a smirk – to Ichigo’s eyes at least, “well, as betting is certainly not a sanctioned activity,” Ichigo heard both of his mentors cough out a laugh at that, “I don’t know anything about that. But, if there was one, I’d say it would be…sizeable.”

Across the table, Hermione looked scandalized. “You’d bet about your Professors ?”

That was clearly enough to set off the Slytherins. Pansy full-on cackled.

“You mean you don’t?” she asked, eyes wide.

“ We certainly do,” Draco added on, “among others, there’s always the yearly one about how long the DADA professor will last, but there’s also the one about Dumbledore’s affair with Grindelwald, how long it’ll take McGonagall to eat someone’s pet as a cat,” Ron looked somewhat distraught at that, causing Ichigo to raise a brow in the Gryffindors’ direction. Harry simply mouthed at him ‘it’s a long story’, “and of course this year, how long it’ll take for this one,” he stuck his thumb in Ichigo’s direction, “to go full on berserk at Professor Umbridge.”

“Why would I ever do that.” Ichigo deadpanned, “I would never.”

“I’m sure we all believe that.” Byakuya responded, fondness glinting in his eyes.

“Aww, my favorite student has grown so much!” Urahara wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye, “I remember when he was running into street poles from not looking, and now he’s threatening his teachers! I’m so proud~”

Ichigo pointed at him threateningly, “That was ONE time! If you don’t watch out I’ll be threatening you! And I’m your only student, Getaboushi!”

Urahara completely ignored parts of the sentence, “And I look forward to it!”

“Come on now Ichi,” Yoruichi shook her head at her student, strands of deep hair falling into her eyes, “You know he loves sparring with you.”

The last part of the sentence was dead serious, and belied just how much the two mentors cared about his current state. Ichigo very simply hadn’t been able to spar with Urahara ever since the end of the Winter War, for obvious reasons, and that hurt .

“I know.” he caught Urahara’s eyes, trying as best as he could to draw that sum of power that he’d felt increasing ever since starting at the magic school up into his eyes. “Soon, Getaboushi.”

The former taichou blinked, eyes narrowing at the faintest hint of black he could see darkening his protegee’s scleras. “Good. Benihime misses our fights.”

“Benihime?” Changyeon questioned from across the table.

The four shinigami (former and current) simply blinked at her, as if the question didn’t exist. After all, the answer was quite obvious to them, and revealing another’s zanpakuto was just not something done.

“Nevermind…I guess.” The girl looked immensely confused, which Ichigo could relate to, but the confusion was really for the best.

Conversation rather effectively ended, Ichigo turned to his own plate, and asked it quite politely for Oyakudon and spinach gomae. The summoned meal looked exquisite, and so he was quite thrilled to dig into it with gusto. The food at Hogwarts was nothing like food from home, and the comfort of a familiar meal was nothing to be scoffed at, and everything to be delighted in.

Hermione pov

Hermione had to admit that the Ball was much better this year than the year previous. Maybe it was that there wasn’t a giant competition looming over them, or the company from Shinhana, or maybe the fact that she was actually attending with Ron as her date instead of fighting – as they had the year before.

Despite the company of the Slytherins at the table, dinner had actually been quite pleasant. Hermione had been sucked into a rather interesting conversation with Pansy, Changyeon, and Luna, which had started out with them discussing classes and study material, but had very quickly evolved (or perhaps devolved?”) into poking light fun at the boys at the table. 

Said boys had handled this remarkably well, and even the Professors from Ichigo’s school seemed invested, happily adding themselves to the conversation when the opportunity presented itself.

Soon enough, everyone was done with their meals, and the plates cleared themselves from the tables. Hermione did have to grimace a bit at this, knowing that the Hogwarts house elves were probably overextending themselves, but deigned to not say anything at the moment. She’d decided that she’d schedule a meeting with Professor Dumbledore himself to discuss the elves’ wages, and hopefully work on the elvish welfare at the school. Reform for society as a whole was unfortunately not something she could exactly achieve as a school student, but she was working towards it!

Once the tables had cleared, the room started to transform, tables turning into hightops, drink stations appearing near the walls, and a marble, checkered dance floor emerging beneath their feet. Blue Lights sparked into life above the ballers, enveloping the room in a soft but dark light.

A String Quartet quartet took the performance stage, and across the hall, people (both singles and pairs) swirled into dance, the festive spirit taking everyone by the hands.

A light tap on the shoulder took the girl slightly off guard, and she turned around to see her date extending his hand to her.

With a sheepish smile on his face, Ron gestured towards the dancers with his head. “Hermione? Would you do me the honor of having this dance?”

“Ron?” A brilliant smile lit up her features, “I would love to.”

And with that, she took the proffered hand and swept him onto the floor, taking the lead as they spun into a slightly uncoordinated waltz. Yeah, this was definitely a better ball than last year.