Chapter Text
Stepping back into the Great Hall for the first time since the war was more of a challenge than Harry could have ever mentally prepared for. He was vaguely aware that he wasn’t the only one who hesitated on the threshold into the room where they’d laid out their dead, horrible flashes of blood splattered skin and vacant eyes flooding his mind. Worse, in some way, had been those who only looked like they were sleeping. As if at any moment they might wake, might speak, as if at any moment things might be okay again. Harry’s breath caught sharply in his chest and he released it with a pained whine.
And then there was a warm hand sliding into his and a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders, and Ron was murmuring in his ear, “Yeah, me too, mate. Me too. C’mon though, we’ve got this. Let’s just follow ‘Mione, yeah? Just like always.”
Harry nodded mutely and Hermione gently tugged his hand, leading him in a daze into the Great Hall and off to one side at the back. Once there, she pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly for a moment and then meeting his eyes.
“Harry, you’re all right,” she said, her voice steadier than was at all reasonable, her brown eyes calm and warm on his face. “You’re all right. We’re all right. Focus on now, Harry. Tell me what the Great Hall is like now, okay? Describe it to me.”
Now, Harry thought, taking several breaths before he was even able to tear his eyes away from Hermione’s steadying gaze. What is real now?
“There’s…” he began, voice trembling slightly. Visions of rubble and smoke and choked screams fought their way to the forefront of his mind. The Great Hall was broken and crumbling. No. Harry shoved them aside, forcing himself to look.
“The hall looks like it always did… Before.”
Not broken. Whole. Everything was okay.
“The ceiling is fixed… It's - it’s a cloudy day, but it doesn’t look like it will rain…”
Dark hall. Dark thoughts. All the lights extinguished as the magic failed all around them. No. No, no, no. That wasn’t right.
“The candles are all lit again. I’ve always thought they looked nice…”
“Good, Harry,” Hermione murmured in his ear, “That’s good. Tell me about who you see, okay?”
Harry’s eyes swept the people around him. Their year mates - those who had returned - were all gathered here, at the back of the hall. He distantly recalled the headmistress directing them to stand there instead of going to their House tables. Something about an announcement, was it?
“There… there are so few of us…” he whispered and Hermione shook her head gently.
“Name us off for me, all right, Harry? Do it by House if that’s easier.”
“Okay…” Harry looked over them all again and nodded slowly. This was fine. They were all right. He’d done these grounding exercises before. It was all right.
“Gryffindor - me, you, Ron, Nev, Dean, Seamus. Lav - Lavender - she should -”
“Harry,” Ron cut him off, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Listen to ‘Mione. She just wants you to tell her who’s here. You can do that, right? List us off for her?” His blue eyes were worried, and it made guilt creep up Harry’s spine. Ron had lost his brother. And he… And he…
Harry managed to start listing off more students just to distract himself from the roiling guilt. “Ravenclaw - Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein. Hufflepuff - Ernie Macmillian, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones. Slytherin -”
He choked then, breaths coming short and fast. Ron’s grip on his shoulder tightened and Hermione squeezed his hand. Tethering him. Grounding him.
Slytherins. He knew some of them had come back. He knew that. And it was good. He hadn’t testified at Malfoy’s trial just to have him sequestered away. They all deserved a second chance. The final year they hadn’t gotten to have.
Everyone had been invited back, McGonagall had told them when the letters arrived in July. Very little had been learned in the 1997-1998 school year, she was well aware. Very little about school, at least. Every student was invited to repeat the previous year, if desired. So many had been missing or worried about family or… so many things. OWLs and NEWTs for 1998 were able to be re-sat, no questions asked.
Younger students were able to remain in the dormitories with their year mates, regardless of whether they were repeating or not. Hogwarts had accommodated the need for extra space for the large first year class with ease, adding extra rooms and floors to house the eleven and twelve year olds who were beginning that year.
They looked so small…
“Harry, mate,” Ron murmured to him, bringing his focus back once again. “C’mon, almost there.”
“There?” Harry asked distantly.
“The Slytherins,” Hermione prompted gently. “Who is here?”
Slytherins.
Fire.
So much fire.
Fiendfyre racing through the Room of Hidden Things, snapping and lashing at them as they ran. Crabbe’s horrible screams as he fell. Goyle’s panicked sobs, scrambling to hang on while his friend burned. Malfoy’s pale face, twisted with pain and terror. Malfoy’s hand gripping his as he hauled him up. Malfoy’s arms wrapped bruisingly tight around his waist, clinging to him for dear life. Flying faster than he ever had before.
“Oh, sod it,” Hermione snapped. “I should have known this exercise wouldn’t be good for him right now.”
That, more than anything, pulled Harry out of his memories. He blinked slowly at his friend. “Did you just… ‘Mione, did you just swear?”
Hermione blinked back at him and then her cheeks pinked slightly, her head dipping in a brief nod.
And Harry was so surprised that any other time he could have laughed, but as it was, he at least managed a small smile, shaking his head fondly. “Ron’s really rubbing off on you, eh?”
“Oi!” Ron snapped, blushing furiously at the unintentional double entendre, and that made Harry laugh. He and Hermione ended up in helpless giggles, clinging to each other while they fought for breath. By the time they had recovered, Harry felt better than he had in weeks. He wrapped both of his friends in a hug, burying his face in Hermione’s hair for a moment and taking a deep, steadying breath, the familiar scent of her apple blossom shampoo filling his nose.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such amazing friends, but he’d long ago decided to stop asking.
“Weasley!” Michael Corner piped up from the little cluster of Ravenclaw students, smirking in their direction. “I didn’t know you had another relative joining us this year.”
“What?” Ron asked, turning in confusion. Harry and Hermione looked as well. Maybe Bill had stopped by for some reason? Or - Merlin forbid - Percy? But the boy walking into the hall with hair more orange than even Ron’s certainly wasn’t a Weasley and Ron rolled his eyes at Michael, calling back, “Not every ginger in the world is a Weasley, you twat.”
The other man was hanging back on his own by the entry, as if he wasn’t quite sure where exactly he belonged. Harry was certain he wasn’t a fellow eighth year, obviously, but he certainly looked about the same age as them. He knew most of the sixth and seventh years too, so that didn’t offer any more answers. Plus, he realised belatedly, the other boy wasn’t wearing any House colours.
Then another unfamiliar man stepped into the hall, throwing an arm around the ginger’s shoulders with a blindingly bright grin and steering him further towards their group. Harry was openly staring now, his attention thoroughly captured by the two strangers and the taller one’s brilliantly blue hair.
—
Whatever they’d both been expecting when Ichigo and Grimmjow had been called to meet with the Soutaicho in the August after the Quincy War - and they’d discussed a number of increasingly outlandish options while waiting in the hall for his previous meeting to finish - this certainly wasn’t it.
Because what they heard in the next few minutes was that there was a wizard who had taken to experimenting on both wizards and non-magical humans alike and whose end goal - it seemed - was to create hybrids that sounded alarmingly like arrancar. Or perhaps Vizard was closer to the truth, given that they were using humans. Nevermind that Ichigo had no damn clue what half the words that the older man used even meant - wizards and Muggles and something about warty hogs - at least his and Grimmjow’s involvement quickly became apparent. The arrancar’s pesquisa was perfectly suited to picking up on anything even approaching a Hollow signature and obviously both of them were more than capable of handling themselves in a fight. Not to mention that Ichigo actually was young enough to be in school and unlike any of the captains, he wasn’t strictly needed in Soul Society at the moment.
There were a hell of a lot of things that didn’t make sense to him, but the biggest ones at the moment were, “Why us rather than their own authorities? And why a school of all places?”
Kyouraku chuckled humorlessly. “Because the Minister for Magic is an old friend of mine - no, that’s a story for another day - and he asked for a personal favour. Their Aurors are already scouring the country for any signs of the person or persons responsible, but they have reason to believe that those involved are Dark wizards, more than likely remnants of the Death Eaters they fought in their last war.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes - because honestly, that name - but he didn’t interrupt. He could figure out the details later.
“And despite the fact that they were practically children during the war, there are several people in the school who were either directly or indirectly involved with, shall we say, the wrong side. The Minister and the Head Auror first assumed it was highly unlikely that any of the students were involved. Perhaps that was wishful thinking on their part, but as it has become more and more apparent that they have no other leads, they’re getting a bit desperate. People are disappearing. It’s been few enough that they’d been able to keep it under wraps for the time being, but it won’t last forever and when the news breaks, it will cause a panic. Imagine what would happen if shinigami or arrancar started disappearing now, when we’re finally feeling at peace again.”
“So they’re covering their arses,” Grimmjow put in dryly, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. It didn’t surprise Ichigo in the slightest that the other man was not in the least bit willing to tone down his language around the Soutaicho.
“Partially,” Kyouraku admitted, “Not that I can blame them. But obviously, they also want to stop the disappearances and they’re hitting a wall there. Their only viable lead at the moment is that someone at Hogwarts might be involved and the Headmistress has made it abundantly clear that not a single Auror - their law enforcement - will step foot on the premises without her express permission. Which she does not seem keen on granting.”
“Why?” Ichigo wondered, “Wouldn’t it be in the students’ best interests?”
“Things were… complicated during the last war. The Aurors are still generally well respected and trusted, but there were enough that turned out to be on the other side that not everyone is willing to extend a blanket sort of trust to them anymore. Headmistress McGonagall is one of the less trusting sort as is, from what I’ve heard of her from Kingsley. It doesn’t help that one of her students is a known former Death Eater and several others were at least sympathetic to the other side. She and other faculty fought long and hard to get them a second chance and allow them the opportunity to finish their education. Having suspicious Aurors swooping around everywhere is probably the last thing they need.
“So, she trusts the students more than the police, basically?” Ichigo asked curiously.
“As I said, it’s complicated. But essentially… yes. She’s spent the better part of the last year with those students. They might have been on the wrong side of the battle, but they’ve been exonerated in court or not convicted of anything to begin with, and they’ve apparently been atoning by helping to rebuild from it ever since. I have no doubt her trust in them is hard won. She is… less than pleased about Kingsley’s meddling in the affairs of the school, but she has finally - reluctantly - agreed to allow a discreet investigation in the interest of protecting her students.”
“Surely there are any number of people better suited to this than us,” Grimmjow pointed out, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth, making his dimple even more prominent. “Like, say… just about anyone.”
“For the task of investigating a Dark wizard? Absolutely. Just about anyone would be better suited to such a thing,” Kyouraku agreed easily. “However, for impersonating a Hogwarts student, tracking a Dark wizard or wizards using methods hardly understood by shinigami, let alone human wizards, and being up for the task of potentially duelling said Dark wizard with the distinct possibility of no back up arriving in time… Well, that certainly narrows down our options, doesn’t it? Magic or not, I’m not about to send human children after someone who has the potential to be the next Aizen.”
Ichigo and Grimmjow shared a look then, their own expressions of incredulity mirrored in one another’s faces perfectly. Before either of them had a chance to point out that Ichigo was fifteen the first time they had fought, on his way to challenge Aizen, Kyouraku held up a hand.
“I’m aware of how that sounds, I assure you. May I remind you that I was not the Soutaicho then and my own thoughts on the matter - as well as several other captains’ - were thoroughly ignored. Jushiro and I…” The older man had to pause here, his grey eye going distant and a bit overbright. Ichigo had long suspected that the two captains had shared more than just friendship, and now he reached out, wordlessly squeezing Kyouraku’s shoulder. The other man gave him a tight smile and a tiny nod as Ichigo dropped his hand, continuing, “Juu and I were of the opinion that we should be fixing our own mistakes, not asking children - no matter how powerful - to fix them for us. Yama-ji ignored that and we ultimately fell in line, but I won’t pretend as if I’ve never regretted not pushing harder.”
Ichigo waved a hand. “What’s done is done. I don’t hold it against you, Shunsui. Never have.” He continued on easily, summarising, “So, rather than teach wizards all about shinigami and Hollows and everything on our side, you’ve decided it’s easier to teach us about being wizards. Am I following right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Great. So… what do we have to do?”
—
Going from not being able to use even the simplest Kido incantations to mastering basic wandless and wordless magic in the span of a year felt a fair bit like magic itself. No, it sounded utterly impossible, but that was their task and neither Ichigo or Grimmjow had ever backed down from a challenge - especially once they turned it into a competition.
Of course they didn’t have a year to squander, learning all they needed to, so the decision was made to use a Time Turner. They weren’t incredibly common in magical Japan, but obviously there was a need and nothing as silly as a literal lack of time was going to stop them. They were allowed to use it to travel back exactly once, taking them to the first of September, 1998. It would give them one full year to be put through a gruelling and almost impossibly difficult curriculum at the Japanese school of magic, Mahoutokoro, to learn magic the likes of which neither of them had even known existed before today. And to study the recent history of Wizarding Britain that they were about to enter for the first time.
It was quite possibly the most difficult training Ichigo had ever undergone, and damn if that didn’t seriously put things in perspective.
—
The first of September, 1999 found Ichigo and Grimmjow standing shoulder to shoulder in a sprawling hall in a castle somewhere in Scotland, surrounded by hundreds of black robed young witches and wizards. Against all odds, they’d finished the trying year at Mahoutokoro, passing their exams with results that were admirable even amongst their actual yearmates, who had been attending the school for years longer.
The Japanese students at Mahoutokoro had asked surprisingly few questions about their suddenly joining the school at age eighteen and when Ichigo had finally asked the Headmaster just what on earth they’d been told after a few weeks enduring far too many stares and whispers, the man had admitted the entire student body was under a rather complex bit of charm work to believe that he and Grimmjow had been prevented from attending school due to an abusive family situation - and oh yes, they were also cousins, nice of Kyouraku to mention that - and that they had only just been finally liberated.
Grimmjow had laughed his arse off when Ichigo returned to their shared room to fill him in on that bit of news. While he was a bit miffed that someone had clearly decided they couldn’t come up with and stick to a cover story on their own, the nice part about the charm was that unless they did something to blatantly contradict the story, there was really nothing they had to do to maintain their cover or remember their “traumatic” shared past. Well, at least that also gave them an out for the screaming nightmares that woke one or both of them nearly every night.
Here at Hogwarts - and gods, what was it with wizards and these ridiculous names? - they had a different cover story. They were now the inaugural members of a foreign exchange program that allowed study abroad trips between the world’s magical schools. Ichigo wasn’t entirely sure whether anyone from Hogwarts had gone to Mahoutokoro in return, but it was clear that he and Grimmjow were the only two new students here other than the first years. It felt like every eye in the Great Hall was trained on them, even as they stood awkwardly with a group of students their own age at the back of the hall through the Sortings of all the tiny eleven and twelve year olds. Which, considering how used to weirdness Ichigo was at this point, it maybe shouldn’t have phased him that students were segregated into Houses based on what a talking hat saw in their heads at age eleven. But here they were.
After the final first year student - a tiny slip of a girl with the surname Zabini - was Sorted Slytherin to a smattering of applause, Ichigo fully expected Headmistress McGonagall to put away the Sorting Hat and begin the welcome feast. Instead, what he got were the shrewd witch’s severe blue-green eyes softening with a flicker of amusement as they met his own from across the Great Hall and shifted to the man standing with his arm slung around his shoulders.
“Fuck, I don’t like that look…” Ichigo muttered under his breath, earning an amused quirk of lips from Grimmjow. Thankfully, before the other man had a chance to comment, the headmistress was speaking again.
“It is my pleasure to announce as well that we have accepted what we hope to be the first of many foreign students into our inaugural exchange program.” Ichigo couldn’t hold back a soft snort at that. He honestly wasn’t sure if there was some plan to have an exchange program in the future or if it was all just for the sake of their cover. “In light of the fact that this is their first year at Hogwarts - despite their age - the faculty and I have decided that they shall be Sorted just as all other students are. So… if you boys would make your way to me, please…”
“Well, this ought to be interesting,” Ichigo muttered dryly. He knew about the four Houses of course, but they’d been informed in a private meeting with the Headmistress, Kyouraku, and Kingsley that the returning eighth years - of which they would be considered a part - wouldn’t be staying in their usual Houses this year. So it hadn’t even occurred to him that he and Grimmjow would potentially be split up. Without waiting to see whether he was followed or not, he shrugged Grimmjow’s arm off and began striding down the aisle between House tables, making his way to join the headmistress at the front of the hall. A flash of blue in his periphery told him he wasn’t alone and Ichigo smirked, elbowing Grimmjow lightly as he came to a halt. “If we’re doing this alphabetically, you’re first,” he informed the other man with entirely too much glee. It was the simple things in life, after all.
“Jaegerjaquez, Grimmjow,” Headmistress McGonagall called out clearly a moment later, gesturing for him to take a seat on the frankly tiny stool beside her. Ichigo had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Grimmjow gave her a look with all the haughty disdain of a wet cat and folded his tall frame to sit as gracefully as possible on the stool. It was quite the feat, considering his knees were nearly level with his chest. His chin jerked up as the ratty old hat was lowered onto his head, flattening out the artfully messy tumble of blue waves. Cerulean eyes widened dramatically for a moment and then narrowed once again.
It was the work of mere moments before the Sorting Hat called out, “Slytherin!”
Grimmjow popped back up to his feet the instant the old witch whisked the hat from his head and quickly smoothed out his hair. And honestly, it wasn’t as if it was even possible to mess up when his hairstyle could best be described as organised chaos. Ichigo was belatedly realising that he was spending far too much time thinking about Grimmjow’s hair and he shook his head a bit to clear it as McGonagall called out, “Kurosaki, Ichigo.”
He dropped onto the stool with far less grace than the other man had, scowling when he nearly kneed himself in the chin as he slumped forward. Grimmjow huffed out a laugh and annoyed amber eyes turned on him until the hat settled on his head and Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin as an unfamiliar voice began speaking in his mind. Although really, he should have been used to it by now.
‘My, it’s quite a crowd in here, isn’t it?’ The hat spoke with an air of detached amusement, the voice somehow gravelly and undeniably ancient.
‘What tha fuck d’ya think yer doin’ in ‘ere?’ Shiro snapped, his words so heavily accented and traced with the Hollow scream that even Ichigo was having a hard time not wincing as he listened to him. It had also been a while since they’d spoken in public, given that he had the unfortunate habit of talking out loud to answer his zanpakuto spirits if he wasn’t thinking about it. The last thing he needed was people thinking him mad.
‘Oh?’ Now the hat actually sounded curious. Fuck his life. ‘It speaks?’
‘Unfortunately,’ Tensa chimed in wryly.
‘Just how many of you are there?’ the hat wondered then with an air of detached interest.
‘One,’ Ichigo insisted, at the same time as Shiro and Tensa chorused, ‘Three.’
With a mental sigh, Ichigo told the hat, ‘Three parts. One me. It’s a long story. Now, can we please just get this over with? It’s crowded enough with these two in here. No offence.’
‘None taken,’ the hat assured him breezily. ‘Hm… As if it isn’t difficult enough to Sort a wizard of your age and power - not that you are a wizard mind you -’
‘What?!’ Ichigo yelped. Surely there was no way…
‘I can see your mind, child,’ that dry amusement was back again, sounding far too much like Tensa for Ichigo’s comfort. Also, something about that address made him feel like he was being spoken to by the late Head Captain and Ichigo really wasn’t sure how he felt about that. ‘I’m not sure what you are -’ the hat began.
‘Join the club.’
‘But it’s abundantly clear that you and your… friend have more in common with the ghosts of this castle than its students.’
That was… uncomfortably close to the truth. Not that Ichigo was going to give the hat the satisfaction of saying it. At least it hadn’t spent long in Grimmjow’s head. Gods only knew what it was like in there.
‘You don’t need to be concerned.’ Was it possible for hats to laugh? This one certainly sounded like it was laughing at him. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a normal hat. Not in the slightest. ‘I suppose I could place you in nearly any House, although I do believe your skills would be rather wasted in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw… No, no you’d be much more at home in either of the others. But which one? Which one? Hmm… I don’t suppose you have any preference, my boy?’
‘Um… no, not particularly,’ Ichigo admitted. ‘You know, we’re actually here to keep an eye on things… more or less. So I guess we probably shouldn’t be in the same House, yeah?’ As much as they were ostensibly here to keep an eye on Slytherins, it did seem rather counter productive to avoid at least one of them getting an in with the rest of the student body. Besides, they were also rather supposed to be protecting the rest of the school too.
‘Hm, yes…’ the hat mused, seeming unsurprised by Ichigo’s sudden candour or the fact that he was here to spy on Hogwarts students. ‘Yes, that seems right…’ it was saying, ‘Balance and all that too. Very well…”
“Gryffindor!” The House name echoed through the hall for a few moments before the gathered students broke into wild cheering and applause. Far more than had been afforded to Grimmjow - or any other Slytherin. Clearly the historical House rivalries he’d read about had only increased since the war.
Ichigo leveraged himself off the tiny stool with a bit of difficulty, trying to ignore the hundreds of sets of eyes on him as he returned to stand beside Grimmjow a bit awkwardly. Thankfully, Headmistress McGonagall took that moment to motion for them to return to the group of eighth year students at the entrance and began speaking again, drawing some of the curious looks away as she gave a speech about letting go of past differences and moving forwards with a new outlook of unity.
Considering her words sounded far too similar to the countless other speeches he’d had to listen to in the wake of their own war, Ichigo couldn’t quite get himself to pay attention to it. He hadn’t realised just how much he was zoning out though until he was startled by an arm slung around his shoulders and he looked up into clear blue eyes framed by hair nearly as riotously bright as his own. “Um… hi?” Ichigo managed.
“Hi,” the redhead said cheerfully. “Come sit with us? Your friend already got claimed by the snakes.” He jerked his chin over to where Grimmjow was walking ahead with a pair of eighth year boys. Ichigo rolled his eyes. Of course he had. Arsehole.
“Yeah,” Ichigo agreed easily. They were all headed to the same table anyways. He hadn’t missed that part of the speech at least. “Sure, lead the way.”
He soon found himself on a bench between the redhead and a tall black boy who was already deep in conversation with the boy on his other side. “So uh, sorry,” Ichigo said a bit sheepishly, “I didn’t get your name.”
“Oh!” Blue eyes lit up as the redheaded wizard chuckled, offering him his hand, “Ron. Ron Weasley.”
“Kuro -” Ichigo laughed, shaking his head, “Sorry, given names first, right… Ichigo Kurosaki. Nice to meet you.” He glanced across at the people who had settled on the other side of the table. “And you two…?” he prompted. It wasn’t difficult to guess, given who’d just introduced himself, but Ichigo wasn’t entirely sure whether someone from Japan should know who they were, so it seemed safer to let them be properly introduced.
The bushy haired witch and black haired wizard exchanged what appeared to be a thoroughly incredulous glance with each other and then she was reaching out to shake his hand as well. “Hermione Granger,” she told him with a bright smile. Ichigo shook hands with her and then found himself caught in assessing green eyes.
“And I’m… Harry…” the other man said a bit hesitantly, seeming at once confused and intrigued. “Harry Potter.”
Ichigo shook his hand as well, flashing a quick smile at him. “Nice to meet all of you.” This was going well then. Grimmjow could work on the Slytherins - he fit right in, after all - while Ichigo got to know the famous Golden Trio.
“Likewise,” Harry agreed, green eyes bright with poorly concealed curiosity.
The rest of supper passed in a bit of a blur, with Ichigo finding himself quickly taken with the trio, who had seemingly claimed him as one of their own. Ron reminded him more than a little of Renji - not exactly the most booksmart but clever and strategic in his own way, passionate about his own interests as well as his friends’, and loyal to a fault. He was easy to get along with and refreshingly direct. Ichigo was quite sure there wasn’t a single thought that crossed the other man’s mind that didn’t almost immediately pop out of his mouth.
Hermione, on the other hand, was some bizarre cross of Uryu and Rukia. She was brilliant, that was clear even from their short conversation, incredibly logical and almost alarmingly insightful. Ichigo had a feeling not much got by her, whether her friends wanted to divulge it or not. But she also had a clear undercurrent of unwavering loyalty to her friends that was evident in the way she spoke of them all. She was both fascinating and a fair bit terrifying to him.
And Harry…
Well, Harry reminded him an awful lot of himself.
Ichigo wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But it certainly was intriguing. He honestly wondered why these three hadn’t simply been asked to take the mission. Given what he had learned about the Second Wizarding War, they seemed more than qualified, even if they were, as Kyouraku put it, “children.” Somehow having an ancient shinigami refer to them as children seemed way less insulting than wondering if that was how the Wizarding world saw them as well.
Before he knew it, the remnants of their dinner were vanishing from the tables and all of the eighth years were standing up, gathering off to the side where the headmistress gestured for them to join her as the younger students filed out of the Great Hall. Ichigo found himself tagging along with the trio once again, for lack of anything better to do. He hadn’t spoken to most of the other students yet and it wasn’t as if he was going to go out of his way to talk to Grimmjow.
“As you have likely noticed,” the Headmistress began in a dry voice, “Things will look somewhat different this year. While the other faculty and I do not wish to separate you from the Houses who have been your family for the better part of a decade, we also recognize that this year is going to be challenging in more ways than one - for all of you.” Her gaze swept over the crowd and lingered on the Slytherins for several beats before continuing.
“After careful consideration, we have determined it is in the best interest of everyone to provide those of you who had your seventh year interrupted a place of your own to rest, recover, and focus on your studies.” A clamour went up among the gathered students, whispers breaking out all around him, but McGonagall quickly silenced them with a look and continued, “It is not our intention to cut you off from your Houses entirely. You will still have access to your former Houses’ common rooms and may continue to see your former Heads of House for anything you need throughout the year. You will also be able to gain - yes, gain - points for your respective Houses. I will not entertain the thought of any of you losing points. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, headmistress…” everyone chorused rather meekly. The tiny old witch reminded Ichigo of Unohana when she looked like that. A sharp pang squeezed his heart at the thought and Ichigo closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the uncomfortable emotions that rose up whenever he remembered everyone they had lost.
“I am leaving it to the Heads of House to discuss this with their own students,” she was saying a few moments later, “But I wished to let you all know personally… St. Mungo’s has appointed four part-time mind healers that will have open office hours each week and they are available - and you are encouraged - to visit them during these times. I know some of you are likely already seeing a mind healer and we are more than willing to accommodate this as well. Portkeys or private fire calls can be set up if needed. Godric knows we could all use a bit of extra help, now more than ever. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to your Heads of House for any accommodations you need - and of course, you are all welcome to come directly to me as well.”
“Now,” she clapped her hands together briskly, all Scottish stoicism again rather than the genuine softness she’d displayed discussing mental health. “All of that is well and good, but the accommodations with your own Houses are primarily due to us wishing to ease this transition as well as we can. You will have your own dormitories and common room on the third floor. In acknowledgment of the fact that you are all of age, we have relaxed the rules somewhat for eighth years. Weekday curfew will begin at midnight and end at five in the morning, and there will be no curfew on weekends. In fact, so long as you return to campus by midnight on Sunday night, you are all permitted to leave the grounds as you wish.”
At this announcement, a cheer went up from nearly everyone and the headmistress fixed them all with another stern look. “Do not make me regret allowing you such liberties. Additionally, while of course we cannot control what you do outside of Hogwarts, I will reiterate that no alcohol is allowed on school grounds and there will be no displays of public intoxication, regardless of what you do in Hogsmeade or elsewhere. You are all adults and will be held as role models by the younger years. I expect you to act like it.”
She held their gazes for a moment longer and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. Your rooms will be shared between two people each, so as such, you have each been assigned a roommate for the year.” A list unfurled before her, appearing out of thin air and everyone eagerly crowded around to read it.
Ichigo frowned at the list. He had fully anticipated being roomed with Grimmjow and the fact that he wasn’t was… well, it was a good thing, wasn’t it? Of course it was. A year of living with the arrancar was more than enough for a lifetime. Besides, he genuinely liked Harry so far, so it wasn’t as if he minded that he’d been assigned him as a roommate. Not at all. Still, he couldn’t help but ask his new roommate softly, “Who’s Draco Malfoy?”
Harry did a double take, clearly assuming he’d misheard and his lips did a funny little twitching thing as if he wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown. Then his eyes scanned the small group of students around them and he frowned. “Er… he’s not here, actually…”
It seemed like both Malfoy and Pansy - who Harry knew were returning, were entirely absent from their group. He’d been so caught up in his own panic before supper and then speaking with Ichigo that he hadn’t even looked for him until now. Which was… unusual to say the least. Harry was actually shocked he’d been so distracted.
“Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini,” the headmistress addressed a few moments later, “I trust you will be able to fill in Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson on everything I have discussed, yes?”
“Of course, headmistress,” Blaise said politely.
McGonagall didn’t seem to be concerned about the absence of either of them, so Harry supposed he shouldn’t be either. He hadn’t even noticed until now and that was a good thing. It didn’t matter where Malfoy was. He wasn’t his keeper or anything. Besides -
“Harry?” Ichigo asked quietly, watching his new roommate with a hint of concern. “Are you all right?”
Startled green eyes snapped to his face, but Harry seemed to look through him for a moment before he actually focused. “Oh… Ichigo, sorry, I - er -”
“It’s fine,” Ichigo assured him. “Just checking on you.”
“I’m fine,” Harry assured him with a strained smile. “Thanks…”
With a tight smile of her own and a falsely cheerful voice, Hermione announced, “Let’s go see our new rooms, yes?”
She led them through the castle and Ichigo tried not to openly stare at all the portraits and grand galleries, the moving staircases and such, all of it so different from Mahoutokoro’s own simple aesthetic. The Great Hall had been overwhelming enough - gorgeous as it was, it was a far cry from the tatami floors and low tables they’d eaten at in Mahoutokoro, surrounded by calming gardens rather than towering stone walls.
Their common room was undeniably cosy - all squashy armchairs and wide sofas, arranged around a roaring fire, with a small kitchenette off to one side that was set up for tea making and not much else, dozens of tins in the open shelving above it. Two students were already there, huddled together on the sofa furthest from the fireplace. Harry came to a stop so suddenly in front of him that Ichigo nearly stumbled into his back.
Harry mumbled an apology absently, too fixated on the blond who’d risen up from the couch and was making his way over to the group. For the briefest moment when they’d walked in, Malfoy’s face had been open and unguarded. He was talking to Pansy in low tones, paler than usual in the flickering firelight, with deep, bruise-like shadows beneath weary grey eyes. And then he’d looked up, his perfect mask snapping into place as if it had always been there, somehow instantly looking more put together than mere moments before.
Draco eyed the two new students curiously as walked over to them, Pansy trailing along behind him. He’d heard that they were going to be playing host to several Japanese exchange students, but he hadn’t expected them to be so… Well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but vibrant hair and vaguely Western features certainly weren’t it.
He held out his hand to the redhead who was standing behind Potter. “You must be one of the new students. Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you.”
Harry made a face at the false pleasantries and Malfoy returned it with a triumphant expression flashing for a moment before he smoothed it away as Ichigo took his hand. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Ichigo Kurosaki,” Ichigo said with an easy smile, shaking Draco’s hand. As he released it, he twisted to look over his shoulder, calling, “Hey, Grimm! Come meet your roommate.”
Draco managed not to openly stare at the other man, but it was a near thing. As it was, he found himself caught in brilliant blue eyes as the man - Grimmjow - shook his hand with a firm grip and calloused fingers. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said in a slightly rougher voice than usual.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Grimmjow purred to him and watched surprise and then heat flash through the other man’s grey eyes. He smirked and winked before releasing his hand.
Draco wrenched his eyes away to catch the gaze of Theo and Blaise behind Grimmjow. Both men were grinning openly at him and he very nearly sighed. He could already tell his new roommate would be trouble.
Ichigo watched the exchange with a roll of his eyes. “C’mon, Harry,” he urged. “Let’s go find our room, yeah?”
“Yeah, all right,” Harry agreed absently.
They took one of the spiralling stone staircases on either side of the massive hearth, following it up to the floor above. Their room was the first one on the left hand side of the hall. A disembodied voice rang out in the hallway, instructing them both to place the tip of their wands against the door and informing them as they did so that the room would be keyed to their magical signatures. Others could be added to the wards at any time, although they were warned that both of them needed to be present to add any additional signatures. Ichigo supposed that was fair, already making a mental list of who they would likely be giving access to.
The room itself wasn’t large, but it was big enough for their needs. The beds were arranged against opposite walls along the short sides of the room, with two desks facing each other in the centre. The far wall had three windows, one at the foot of each bed and one larger window illuminating their desks. Or it would be, in the day time. At the moment, they simply looked out over the blackness of the grounds at night. Harry was fairly confident that they would have a view of the lake, although it was difficult to tell right now.
The entire room was - well - colourless was the best way to describe it. Harry frowned in confusion. After six years of rich reds and gold covering nearly every surface of Gryffindor tower, it was odd to be in a monotone greige room. “Do you… have a preference on which bed you take?” he wondered.
“Not particularly,” Ichigo said with a shrug. “I’ll take the left though, if you don’t care either.”
“Yeah - yeah, that’s fine,” Harry agreed.
As soon as that was settled, it was like the room came to life. The curtains around Harry’s bed turned a brilliant scarlet, beautiful golden brocade appearing across the fabric. He wasn’t even aware of breathing out a sigh of relief until he heard Ichigo’s soft laugh from across the room. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ichigo shook his head. “It’s just… I wasn’t looking forward to our shades of greige either. This is cool.” His eyes swept the deep, wine red drapes around his bed and Shiro made approving noises in the back of his mind. The sheets were the same colour, but the duvet was a snowy white. When he ducked his head in to look around, he realised the top of the four poster was covered in a mural of the night sky, reflecting the current position of the stars, if he wasn’t mistaken. All in all, it wasn’t what Ichigo would have chosen for himself, but it was perfect all the same.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Harry agreed absently, poking around his own bed and fighting the urge to collapse down on it fully clothed. Instead, he plastered a smile on his face as he gathered his toothbrush from his trunk and turned back to Ichigo. “I’m pretty knackered,” he admitted ruefully, “I’ll probably get to bed in just a bit. You need anything? I think the bathroom is down at the end of the hall.”
Ichigo paused in where he was digging around in his own trunk for pyjamas. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Harry.” He shot him a quick smile.
Harry nodded, heading out into the hall. But he stopped, leaned back into the room, and with a much less forced smile on his face, he added, “Welcome to Hogwarts, Ichigo.”