Work Text:
Even though they were headed to detention or the headmaster’s office, the Weasley brothers laughed at Ichigo for having to go with the first years. He ignored them, and anyway, any rude response he might have made was cut short by the approach of Professor McGonagall. She shook her head at Ichigo and clucked her tongue, “Fighting already? You aren’t even at school yet! We’ll have to deal with you after you’re sorted.”
Ichigo nodded like he understood, but he looked at Karin and mouthed, ‘Sorted?’
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
Ichigo wished that Yoruichi were with him, but he’d overheard a student say that their belongings would be taken up to the dorms by someone else. Apparently, their familiars were considered possessions, even though they were all living souls--most of which seemed to be highly intelligent, at that.
It was nighttime as they debarked. A pale moon rose high in a cloudless sky. The air was chilly and moist, and Ichigo was glad for the warmth of the robe that was part of his new school uniform. He followed all the first years as they wandered aimlessly on the cobblestones under the bright spotlights of the lamp posts. English countryside always seemed a bit forbidding and sinister to Ichigo, especially given that the hillsides tended to collect mist and fog that clung to rocks like ghosts.
Out of the darkness stepped a man. He was huge, as tall, if not taller, than Captain Komamura and at least as furry, although in a less foxy and more human fashion. Ichigo found himself frantically reaching for the substitute soul reaper pendant, until the giant waved a meaty hand at one of the students and called him by name, “Hullo, Harry!”
Then he introduced himself as Hagrid and told everyone to follow him to the boats. Ichigo sidled up to Karin and took her by the hand. She gave him a funny look, but she didn’t let go.
They sat together, silently holding hands, the whole long, spooky boat ride up to the looming, dark castle that was Hogwart’s school.
#
Ichigo felt incredibly silly perched awkwardly on a three-legged stool obviously designed for much shorter, younger people in front of the entire student body with a dithering, talking hat on his head.
The sorting hat seemed stymied. It was taking a long time, far longer than it had with anyone else. The first year class had all already been sorted, Karin going off to join the Gryffindor table.
“Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin,” it had been repeating the three houses for the last minute and a half.
Ichigo tried to look up at it to ask, “What’s the problem? Pick one already. My butt is getting sore.”
“But there are three people here,” it muttered. “All of them different.”
Oh. Right. The hat could probably sense the presence of Zangetsu and… that other. Still, Ichigo shook his head, “We’re not separate. Those guys are all part of me.”
“Yes,” the hat said in a snippy tone. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? No…’ it said, suddenly brightening, “Perhaps you just answered the riddle for me! You would take them all? Treat them the same? Even the Slytherin….?”
Ichigo hesitated for a moment. From what he’d understood from listening to the speculation of all the first years outside the doors to the great hall, the Slytherin house had a reputation for producing what people referred to as ‘dark wizards.’ Ichigo wasn’t exactly sure he knew what that meant, since Western culture didn’t seem have a proper analog to yīnyáng, but it was clear some considered them evil-- or at least very bad.
If that was the case, then the hat was probably asking about that other… the photo-negative part of Ichigo that seemed hell bent on destruction and conquering the inner dreamscape. As much as Ichigo disliked that part of himself, he could hardly deny it existed. And, like the symbol of yīnyáng, there had to be a piece of lightness among all the dark. Ichigo hadn’t yet found it, but he was sure it was there, somewhere, waiting for him to seize and take control of this frightening part of his soul.
Shadow could not exist without light.
More importantly, without both, a person couldn't be whole, complete.
“Of course, I accept them all,” Ichigo said finally, with a grim sort of resignation. “It’s who I am.”
“Yes, yes,” the hat muttered happily, “But what to do about your extreme bravery, you went to hell and back—“
“For Rukia and my friends,” Ichigo agreed. “Though, you know, the Soul Society isn’t really—“
The hat cut him off, “Of course! All you do, you do to protect others!” The hat was almost singing it was so pleased.
Why else would you risk life and limb, Ichigo wondered, if not for someone else?
“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouted gleefully.
#
For some reason, the Weasley twins found it hilarious that Ichigo ended up a Hufflepuff. They yelled some mocking insult at Ichigo that he didn’t understand, something about ‘side-kicks,’ as he followed Professor Sprout to the headmaster’s office after all the welcome speeches were finished. She’d sent the house perfects to lead the first year Hufflepuffs to the dorms, explaining that even though she didn’t understand Ichigo’s reasons, she’d stand with him when he faced Dumbledore.
“We don’t usually have brawlers in our ranks,” she was saying as though to herself. “And fighting with Gryffindors, too!”
When they stood outside the headmaster’s door, Ichigo gave Professor Sprout a low, apologetic bow. “I’m sorry if my actions brought dishonor to our house.” When he came back up, he caught her gaze and held it steadily, “But I regret nothing. It’s the Weasley boys who should be ashamed for refusing to help someone in need.”
She stared at Ichigo for a long time, her mouth open and quivering as if searching for some words. Finally, she pushed her hat down onto the curly mass of her hair with a kind of determination and said, “Yes, I see. Well, well, that sorting hat knows its business, doesn’t it? You certainly sound like one of mine. Let’s face the music together, shall we?”
#
However, the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, seemed completely uninterested in the events on the train and Ichigo’s part in the scuffle. Instead, he offered Ichigo candy and seat. Ichigo would have thought this reaction strange, except he noticed Yoruichi perched on the headmaster’s desk, primly lapping up milky tea from a cup.
“A Hufflepuff, indeed, indeed,” Dumbledore said with a meaningful look at the black cat, and a bright, twinkling laugh, “I think I owe you twenty pounds, my old friend.”
“To be fair,” Yoruichi said, licking her paw, “I was wrong about the sister. We could call it even.”
Dumbledore turned to Ichigo and Sprout and explained, “You see, I assumed with all your adventures thus far, young man, you’d be a shoe-in for Gryffindor. Ms. Yoruichi was just as sure the sorting hat would be unable to separate Japanese ‘we-ism’ from other parts of your personality and automatically place both you and your sister in Hufflepuff. I’m afraid we were both so adamant in our opinion that we were reduced to settling on a wager to end our bickering. It seems she was correct.”
“But, it’s not just culture, sir,” Professor Sprout said proudly from where she stood behind Ichigo’s chair. She put a possessive hand on Ichigo’s shoulder, “Mr. Kurosaki is a Hufflepuff, through and through.”
Ichigo, meanwhile, was trying to decide if it was safe to try the translucent yellow hard candy Dumbledore had given him. The food at the feast hadn’t sat well with his stomach—so much gravy and red meat! This whole discussion of houses bored him. What did it matter? Wasn't the point of school to learn useful things like how to count and write?
“Yet, it certainly took long enough,” Dumbledore mused. He turned his focus on Ichigo, and asked, “Were you discussing anything interesting?”
Ichigo looked to Yoruichi before answering. He wondered if it was really alright to talk about Soul Society matters so openly in front of humans, but, since the headmaster called her an old friend and clearly wasn’t freaked out when she spoke, Ichigo shrugged to himself. “I think maybe the hat was confused by… Zangetsu.”
“Oh? And where did it want to sort your zanpaktō?” Dumbledore asked, almost breathless with curiosity.
“Gryffindor, I think,” Ichigo said, since he was pretty certain the hat had been talking about 'the other' with all that Slyterin stuff.
“Fascinating, fascinating,” Dumbledore said, twirling thin fingers absently through that long, white beard that reminded Ichigo of the head captain Yamamoto. “How did it decide which of you was the stronger personality?”
“I…,” Ichigo wasn’t sure if he should mention 'the other' in front of Yoruichi, especially given her horrified reaction when she found the mask on him when they were in the Soul Society. “I don’t know.”
Dumbledore frowned and his light blue eyes seemed to penetrate deep into Ichigo’s soul. “Hmmm, perhaps we can talk about this some other time. In fact, I think as punishment for your little altercation on the train, I’ll have you do detention with me, here in my office. You can start tomorrow after classes.”
Since there didn’t seem to be any other response, Ichigo nodded, “Yes, sir.”