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Ichigo could not believe that ‘History of Magic’ was being taught by a ghost—albeit the world’s more boring ghost. Ichigo sat in the back row and had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to go all substitute soul reaper on the instructor’s ass send the miserable professor Binns on to the Soul Society.
Luckily, Yoriuchi had explained that the Hogwarts folks were fond of their spectral residents or Ichigo would have sent the Fat Friar on his way the first night. He still had a hard time with this concept, though. It seemed strange to want to keep a soul imprisoned in the human world. Their chains dragged everywhere and Ichigo half-expected them to start hollowfying at any point. But, people here seemed to respect the ghosts, at least. No one brought the dead gifts or flowers, but everyone talked to them--so they weren’t lonely.
Ichigo looked around the room at the other bored students, some of them sound asleep and drooling onto their textbooks. The ability to see ghosts seemed to be one talent that Ichigo had in common with all these wizards and witches. Though there were still a few things he saw that no one else did. Soul chains seemed to be invisible to the rest of the students here, and only a few others could see the thestrals.
Otherwise, Ichigo was completely failing out of Hogwarts.
He had some hope of passing ‘Magical Creatures’ and anything else that didn’t require the extensive use of a wand, but, otherwise—
Ichigo sighed.
He didn’t think his Hogwarts grades were going to transfer to Karakura High School, anyway, so maybe he had a chance of keeping a decent grade point average. He looked down at his notes. Instead of anything about the history of magic, Ichigo had started two letters, one on either side of the bound book. The first one was to Rukia, of course, and he’d been working on it for the past several days. It wasn’t that he had that much to say, but he’d promised to write every day, and he was still arguing with his roommates about where he could put the altar to the dead in their shared space.
The other letter was to Ms. Orihime.
Orihime had surprised him by sending a letter via owl. It was just a simple postcard with some cheesy superhero on it, but she’d told him how much everyone missed him and added a very cheerfully cryptic ‘don’t worry about us!’ with six dozen hearts and smiley-faces which made Ichigo instantly suspicious that something horrible was going on back home.
So far, his letter to her read:
Dear Ms. Inoue,
You’re the worst liar ever. You have to tell me what’s happening or I’ll never forgive you. Tell that stupid Hat-and-Clogs to write me, too, since I assume it’s from his lot that you learned about owl post. Please, please, please give me an excuse to bust out of this place. I’m not sure I can stand another day, anyway. The food alone may kill me. If I didn’t think the owl would eat it, I’d ask you to send a bento box full of sushi. Actually, I’d take anything that tasted of home.
He worried that the last line might cause Orihime to cook something for him herself, but at this point one of her horrible concoctions would at least have elements he recognized in it—and there was no way even a ravenous, starving owl would eat anything she made. He’d seriously murder someone for a little red bean paste or tsukudani. British food was seriously giving him stomach cramps, and he’d actually taken to spending part of the night prowling the back hallways in search of an entry to the kitchen. One of his fellow Hufflepuffs told him that he might be able to make a request of ‘house elves’ for more Japanese cuisine, but he had yet to find these mysterious creatures’ lair.
The letter ended:
I’m thinking of you guys a lot. I might even miss that annoying Ishida, but don’t tell him that. Please continue to send notes whenever you can. Otherwise I’m afraid I might forget how to read.
He couldn’t believe how many times he’d said ‘please,’ but he’d go down on his knees and beg Orihime to keep writing if he had to. He’d reread her postcard a million times already, because just seeing her careful kanji and silly hearts was like hearing her voice. The note was a damn lifeline, keeping him afloat in this strange, foreign place.
Still… it was probably good to be away from everyone for a while.
He needed to get a grip on himself.
Literally.
Yesterday, during ‘Charms,’ Ichigo had gotten so frustrated when he couldn’t levitate something that he’d felt ‘the other’ pushing through. One side of his face got all heavy and brittle feeling, and he’d had to rush out of the room for fear of….
He didn’t know what entirely.
The ringing of the bell startled Ichigo out of his reverie. On his way out, he stopped to wake up a stubborn sleeper. “Oi, Diggory-san, you’re snoring. It’s time to wake up.”
Cedric Diggory blinked awake and gave Ichigo an embarrassed smile. His curly brown hair had flattened on one side. “Right,” he said gathering up his books. “It’s cruel to give us this class first thing in the morning, isn’t it?”
Ichigo nodded, waiting to walk with him, since, as an unspoken rule the Hufflepuffs moved on to ‘Potions’ as a group. No one in his house seemed to care for the professor of the next class, so everyone huddled together like nervous sheep outside the door, waiting until the last possible moment before plunging inward to the dank, dungeon-like room. In fact, they usually waited for Ichigo or Cedric to make the first move and followed behind them as though using the boys as a human shield. To be fair, Professor Snape did have an air of menace about him, and his dark, beady eyes seemed to particularly hone in on Ichigo.
Yet thanks to being paired up with a Ravenclaw, Ichigo managed to get through the entire class without blowing something up. Snape did circle around him creepily several times, but finding nothing he could criticize went off to attempt to harass someone else. Of course, that was somewhat more difficult with Hufflepuffs, since they all circled wagons to protect anyone in danger of being bullied. Ravenclaws, too, tended to fight any of Snape’s snotty comments with cool, calm logic.
When the bell rang, Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. But, just as he was headed off to lunch, a hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “A moment of your time, Mr. Kurosaki,” Professor Snape said.
Cedric paused at the stairs and caught Ichigo’s eye, as if to ask if he needed a rescue, but Ichigo waved him on. Shaking off the professor’s hand, Ichigo turned to face Snape. “What can I do for you, Snape-sensei?”
Snape had caught Ichigo’s gaze and was staring deeply and intensely into his eyes. It was a penetrating look, and Ichigo almost felt like Snape’s reistsu was crawling over him, unwelcome, looking for chinks in his armor. At this intrusion, ‘the other’ stirred. When something dark blurred his vision, Ichigo found he had to back away and cover part of his face.
“Indeed,” Snape sneered at Ichigo’s reaction. “Now tell me what you’re hiding in there, Mr. Kurosaki.”
“Hiding?” Ichigo said, though he had to keep his hand over his face, least Snape see the blackened sclera and glowing yellow iris of his left eye.
Let me at ‘em, said a voice in Ichigo’s head.
“Yes, Mr. Kurosaki, any idiot can see you have a stowaway, a malevolent interloper. It is imperative I know exactly who this creature is.”
Who? Not what?
“I don’t know who you’re looking for, sir, but this isn’t it,” Ichigo said, letting his hand fall away. “This, unfortunately, is all me.”
Snape seemed a little taken aback by whatever he saw when he looked into Ichigo’s eyes this time, but, eventually he shook his head. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I was sure I’d found him.”
“Who?”
Snape seemed to realize Ichigo was still standing there all of a sudden and said, “None of your business. But tell me, boy, how did you avoid being sorted into my house when you have something like that inside you?”
Ichigo shrugged, his eyesight returning to normal. “I guess because I accept him. I mean, I kind of have to, right?”
“If you can accept your own darkness, you’re a stronger man than most, Mr. Kurosaki.”