Chapter Text
Yugi didn't visit him that day or send him another message - but when Harry woke up the next morning, there was a paper rose sitting on his bedside table. Harry didn't try to figure out how to open it immediately, instead going about his morning rituals and getting himself ready for the day, spending nearly half an hour in the bathroom before sitting down and examining the rose. It was identical to the first one, as far as he could see anyway, but then he hadn't had the first one for longer than a couple of minutes.
He turned the paper flower in his hands, not sure if he wanted to open it or not - because as amused as the twins had been about the whole thing, and as supportive as Hermione and Ron were and all that, he still didn't know what to think. Thankfully they had more or less kept it to themselves and as far as Harry knew it wasn't like the whole school knew, but a fair bit of the Gryffindors were now giving him even more weird looks. It was the whole supportive thing had thrown him for a loop most of all, though - especially when it had come from Ron. Ron didn't usually do supportive that well, and yet….
"Well, you know the Mutou guy kind of gives me the creeps, with the way he pops in and out, but, you know. You got to do what you got to do," the redhead had said, before going on musing, "I'm pretty sure Charlie is into blokes too. He's never said anything, but you know. He's never had a girlfriend, and he's been living with this bloke for a couple of years now. Still won't come right out and say it of course, because Mum's, you know, asking for grand kids and all, but you know." In general, the talk had been horrible, and awkward and so nice and full of you knows.
Hermione had been pretty nice, too. In a very Hermione-like way. "Well, it explains a few things, of course - last year for one. I kind of always wondered what was the deal with you, Fleur and Gabrielle - I mean, two pretty Veelas indebted to you and you did what, exactly? Not a thing," she nodded knowingly. "And of course the whole thing is perfectly natural. It's all over history - ancient Egypt famously had homosexuals, and ancient China --"
In the end Harry had escaped without trying to even bother explaining that he wasn't, at least he didn't think he was - he had never even thought about it - and really it was Marik's fault and Yugi was probably only trying to be funny because seriously, there was nothing going on, really! Except he hadn't actually told Hermione or Ron about Malik and Marik because he was trying not to think about it himself - that somewhere the Priest of the Duellist Court was flickering about like a wisp of the most sinister smoke one could imagine.
In competition for scariest guy, Malik and Marik would've kicked Voldemort's arse. Merlin Harry hoped they would never meet.
But that wasn't the point.
In the previous day Harry had tried really hard to get distracted by talk about OWLs and summer holidays - he had even gotten into a couple of debates on how bad a fraud he was and so forth, which had been interesting. He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to avoid thinking about, though, Yugi or Malik or everything, but it had worked pretty well - just as long as he had gotten away from the twins and Hermione's long lecture about how in some tribes in some distant place homosexuals were actually revered. It had been horrible.
Harry had actually been a bit grateful that Yugi hadn't shown up that night - that he had been given the chance to mull over his thoughts in private, trying to figure out what the hell was going on now. It had made him wonder what had been in the rose, what kind of message - but he was sure Yugi knew he hadn't gotten the chance to read it, so he didn't feel too guilty for missing it - or the fact that he was maybe slightly happier not knowing, perhaps.
He should've known better than to think that the morning would bring any clarity - it never did.
Sighing Harry turned the second rose in his hand, before taking hold of the rose's twisting petals, and carefully tugging here and there to see where the rose would safely unfold. In the end it opened with shocking ease, just spreading open in all directions and revealing the small patch of writing nearly in the middle of the dark red paper. Smoothing the paper as much as he could and fairly certain there was no hope of returning it into its rose form, Harry held the paper up to read the small text.
"Malik graciously informed me of the incident in the Great Hall. I apologise if the first rose caused you some embarrassment - I will make sure to deliver the rest more privately," the message began. "I am currently busy in France - there has been an incident with a young summoner - so I might not be able to see you for a couple of days. However, one of my Court will see you soon - in a matter concerning finances, I believe." The letter was signed with, "Yours sincerely, Yugi. Ps, I hope you like the roses. It took me some trying to learn how to make them."
Harry let out a small sigh, smiling despite himself. Go figure. All that worrying, and the message wasn't even remotely romantic. He twisted the paper in his fingers awkwardly, trying to put it back into the rose shape. He couldn't help but wonder though. What if it had been? What if Yugi Mutou, the King of Duellist Court, had send him a romantic message? What then?
He shook his head. Better he hadn't, he decided, and instead concentrated on another part of the message. A matter concerning finances? That probably could mean only one thing. It had been almost thirty days since the trial - which meant that the Ministry should've delivered their fifty thousand galleons by now. And, with Harry in Hogwarts and unable to access Gringotts to arrange the money transfer, Bakura was probably coming to attend to it personally.
"Merlin," he muttered. He had no idea why but the idea of Bakura, Malik and their respective shadows in the same building was making him wish he could file an instant transfer to Beauxbatons.
Then he remembered that Yugi was in France - as was Beauxbatons - and if he transferred, they'd be in the same country again… and resolutely stopped thinking.
Umbridge was, beyond doubt, the worst teacher Harry had ever had.
"Wands away!" she started her every class - after demanding they greet her in unison like some sort of military regiment. Harry was half expecting her to demand a salute to go with it, maybe a bow and raised hat and ten wand-salute - though, that would've been difficult what with the whole concept of them not using wands. In their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.
The Ministry certainly had an odd way of showing how much they cared for their students.
Though on the other hand, maybe that was it - they didn't and now they were trying to drive them insane with the insane drivel their highly beloved Professor Delores Bloody Umbridge called lessons. The levels of frustration in her classes after she went all "Do you expect to be attacked in my class?" and, "There are no dangers out there" and, "Well, you are not in the real world, are you? You're in school and nothing dangerous will happen here."
In a few short days, she became more hated than Voldemort in the school which, when one thought about it, was a fairly impressive feat. Though, considering that everyone thought that Voldemort was dead and all, maybe not so much. It really made Harry wonder what Fudge and the Ministry were really thinking. Obviously the government was interfering with the school, but seriously. Umbridge was systematically sabotaging the education of every student in the castle, not only by not teaching but also dismantling what they had been taught previously.
What were they thinking? That they didn't need future generations to know anything about defence - because obviously none of them would ever take such positions as Auror, or Hitwizard, or Obliviator, or anything of the sort? Though considering the way the Ministry of Magic had been going all summer, maybe that was really it.
It was like they wanted to be taken over.
Harry sighed to himself while jotting down another squiggly line, pretending to be taking notes about Umbridge's drivel about this and that theory of this and that thing that would apparently never happen to them. He had to wonder what the Duellist Court was seeing as they ran around the magical world. Harry had been part of it for over four years and he seriously liked the place - but even he had a hard time trying to find anything good about most of what they did. The sheer inanity was pretty hard to defend. Not just from the government - but mostly from the people, for allowing it to happen.
As he let his attention stray, jotting some random sketches to the side of his notebook and not really even trying to pay attention, he missed the start of it. Only as the students in the front row gasped, he raised his head to notice that there was something white on the floor around Umbridge's desk. Blinking and adjusting his glasses, Harry sat up straighter and watched with odd, frozen fascination as simple paper flowers, all white from the stem to the petals, started popping up from the floor, spreading all across the aisles between the desk, mostly surrounding the teacher's mahogany desk.
"What - what is this?!" Umbridge gasped, noticing only after half of the classroom was covered. By then, the simple flowers, which looked rather like daisies, were climbing up the sides of her desk and onto it. "Oh, this is absolutely ridiculous - whoever is doing it may rest assured - I will --" Umbridge stopped talking, and instead pulled out her wand to blast away the first flower that had the audacity to bloom on top of her desk.
Gasps ran through the class, as the flower shattered into dozens of smaller flowers, which floated all around the room and then began blooming twice as fast where ever their landed, popping flowers all around. Umbridge cursed and blasted another flower and another, only making the situation worse and causing the students hurriedly to evacuate the front rows in order to avoid being hit - or flowered. Aside from them, everyone sat frozen and fascinated as the teacher's face went through several shades of colour before settling on red, as she tried and failed to contain the flowers.
"Finite! Finite!" she yelled, but each flower that was hit with the spell only popped into a cluster of smaller ones. "This is outrageous! Whoever is doing this will get a month's worth of detentions!"
A smothered snicker sounded to Harry's ears, just as Ron learned in, grinning widely. "You didn't, did you?" the redhead asked.
"Didn't, I most certainly didn't. I wouldn't even know where to begin, charming something like this," Harry answered, taking one of the flowers and eyeing it. It wasn't origami - it had been cut and wasn't made of a single sheet of paper. It was kind of clumsy too, so he was fairly certain that Yugi couldn't be behind it. Not that Yugi would've set up something like this in a classroom - the man was smarter than that and had promised, sort of, not to embarrass Harry any further.
But there was something odd about the flowers. Something just… felt off.
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Don't look at me," she answered, picking up a couple of flowers too. "They are excellently charmed. I don't know spells for something like this."
They shared a look. If Hermione didn't know it, it meant that it couldn't be anyone from their year level, or the one above it. "The twins?" Harry asked. As seventh years, they probably knew more than enough replication spells.
"Might be their way of apologising for the rose incident," Ron snorted and glanced around them, as the paper flowers bloomed on every horizontal flat surface, growing out of desks and chairs and theory books. Some of the others students were picking the flowers too, a few of the girls letting out delighted sounds at them, some going as far as to gather them into small bundles.
It was actually oddly charming, in a way. A class covered in white flowers. Harry had seen worse pranks.
Then Umbridge noticed him, holding the flower. "Mr. Potter!" the woman growled, ripping a handful of the paper flowers from her desk and brandishing them at him as if they were a weapon. "I suppose you think that childish tricks such as these are funny. That you would get a little vengeance for the insipid little paper rose. I am, however, forced to inform you that you are not at Hogwarts to play tricks. This is not your personal playground, no matter what you're accustomed to! Detention, Mr. Potter, every weekend for the following four weeks!"
Harry looked at her over the paper flower he was holding, narrowing his eyes. He could tell without much trouble that if he tried to argue, she would hear no word of it. It had been like that in the first class with her too - when she had happily ignored every pointed question from the students and taken points for any possible objections. Hermione had lost a shocking twenty four points because of it - Hermione!
Umbridge had been trying to needle at him too - telling the class that the concept of Voldemort's return was utterly ridiculous and whoever was spreading such rumours was a liar and attention seeker and that people were much better off listening to the Ministry and so forth. The looks she had been sending him had told him loud and clear that she expected opposition and was more than prepared to face it. So, he had bitten his tongue throughout the entire class, not wanting to give her the pleasure.
It wasn't that big of a surprise she didn't even try to figure out if he had done it or not.
"Whatever you say, professor," Harry answered; tucking the flower he was holding into the chest pocket of his robes and smiling brightly at her. She narrowed her eyes at him, ripping some flowers from her books before looking around the class.
"I want each and every one of you to read chapters four and five and write me an essay about twenty ways of using Warlock Gibbon's theorem in real life. Class dismissed!" she finally barked, sending the students quickly gathering their belongings and ripping flowers off their bags and books.
Harry did the same, closing his flower infested books and pushing them into his bag, only stopping when the professor called to him, "Mr. Potter, I will see you at ten a.m. in my office on Saturday. Don't be late," in sickly sweet tones that made him grind his teeth.
"Whatever you say, professor," he answered again and then followed Hermione and Ron out of the classroom.
"You shouldn't be getting detention for something you didn't do," Hermione said once they were safely out of hearing range. "But I suppose you couldn't exactly tell her you didn't - it isn't like she would've believed it. Oh, I knew she wouldn't be an easy teacher, but she's really perfectly horrid!"
"We noticed," Ron muttered, sending a sideways look behind them. "I hope she can't beat the spell," he muttered spitefully.
"Yeah," Harry murmured, and then glanced sideways at a nearby corner, where the shadows were flickering slightly. He frowned and then winced, as Marik's insane grin flashed in the shadows.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing between him and the corner.
For a moment Harry considered just ignoring it, ignoring Marik and continuing on like nothing had happened… but he couldn't do that. Not only had he always been very bad at backing away from a challenge, but he needed to know. Letting Marik do whatever he wished without calling him on it was probably a pretty bad idea anyway. "I need to, um… I need a moment. You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up with you," Harry said, glancing at his friends.
"What is it?" Ron asked, peering into the corner - where he, probably, saw nothing. "One of those, you know, shadowhatsit things?"
"Kind of. I'll explain later," Harry promised and sharing an uneasy look Hermione and Ron nodded and then went on ahead, glancing back at him over their shoulders. Harry waved at them before looking around. The corridor was a bit too crowded for him to start talking to shadows there, so he turned and instead headed to a more sparsely populated corridor. The churning mass of darkness that was Marik followed him, making the shadows in the corners swell.
"Did you do that?" Harry asked in a low voice, once he was sure no one could overhear.
"Did I do what, princeling?" the shadow hissed, flickering around his feet but keeping enough distance so that there was no actual connection. "Did I make the flowers bloom? I'm shadow, little boy, plant life doesn't much care for the likes of me. And I don't care much for the likes of them, to be perfectly honest."
"I could feel shadow magic in those flowers," Harry answered, taking the one he had put into his pocket and examining it. It didn't look like something shadow magic could produce, but he could sense the sliver of darkness in it. "You did something."
"Hm. Maybe whatever it is you have isn't entirely wasted on you, princeling, if you were able to notice. But no, I did not make the flowers bloom. What do I care of flowers?" Marik laughed, and suddenly the paper flower in Harry's hand turned into ash, raining down from his fingers and onto the ground before he could stop it. He frowned, rubbing the ash from his fingers and glanced down at the shadow. "But ah, I might've done something to the magic of it," the shadow hissed.
"You mean, someone cast the spell and you… tampered with it?" Harry asked, scowling. "You can do that?"
"My, my, princeling, you sound almost shocked. It's not all that hard. At their most basic level everything is the same, after all - and I'm quite basic myself," the shadow laughed, a horrible breathless sound. "The magic was there, waiting for the right time. I might've pushed it around a little and made it spread a little farther."
Harry frowned. "So, someone - the twins probably - put the spell in place with a time trigger, but you triggered it earlier… and boosted the spell to make it more powerful," he murmured. He didn't know what to think about that - about the fact that Marik could do it. There was something very bad in that - and yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but think that it was important. "Why did you do it?"
"It was there, so why not?" the shadow answered - and in a twist pulled up from the floor and into a vaguely human-like shape - spiky and flickering and grinning madly. "You got into trouble, didn't you, princeling? Our sweet kind King's little boy-toy got into trouble. Poor, poor baby!"
Harry grimaced, but stood his ground, not willing to be bullied by a shade. "I get the feeling that you did that entirely on purpose," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You wanted me to get a detention. Why?"
"All the better to save you, my dear," the shadow grinned eyes flickering oddly like a light going on and off. Then he snorted, a gust of colour and magic and odd heat. "I'm ever so bored, you can't even imagine." With a roar of laughter, the shadow shifted forward almost as if to head butt Harry - or give him a kiss. Instead of taking the contact or going right through him, though, the shadow split and went around him, not even grazing him as it passed him. Somehow, though, it was much worse than the opposite - because for a moment Harry was completely inside the shadow and even the horrible feeling of walking through a ghost didn't compare to that.
"This is for you, by the way," Marik added, almost like an afterthought, and then it was gone, leaving Harry reeling and yet frozen in place, as the shadow vanished somewhere behind him, it's presence fading. It took Harry a moment to regain his senses and while longer to realise he was holding a folded sheet of paper which he certainly hadn't had before.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, shuddering and awkwardly brushing his hand over his shoulder, half afraid that he would have some residue of the shadow on him - ash or something like that. Shuddering again, he turned his attention to the sheet of fine paper, noticing that it was sealed with a familiar golden sticker with KC imposed on it. for a moment his brain didn't quite get how Marik would have something from Mokuba - before realising that, despite their hundreds of differences, they were both members of the Court. Mokuba had probably asked Marik - or Malik - deliver it for him by using some weird Court method.
Glancing around, not sure if he was watching out for the shadow or for other students - or maybe for Umbridge, Harry peeled the sticker carefully off and opened the letter to see a printed message on it.
"Dear Mr. Harry J. Potter," the message started. "I have been looking into your financial situation and I believe that some errors have occurred with your proceedings which should be corrected as soon as possible. To this end I have formally informed the Ministry of Magic that you shall be absent from Hogwarts tomorrow from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m., and in this time you will be looking into your personal matters concerning your investments. You will be receiving a formal letter of absence later today - do not lose it or damage it, as you will no doubt be required to present it to your Head of House. I will arrive at Hogwarts Gates tomorrow at precisely 8:00 a.m. I will expect to see you there at that time." The letter was signed: "With regards, Seto Kaiba, CEO and Owner of the Kaiba Corporation, the Regent of the Duellist Court."
Harry stared at the letter - no, missive - for a long while, eyebrows rising. "Ooh, boy," he murmured.
"Wait, there's one of them here, right now, skulking about doing who knows what? Blimey," Ron murmured, as he, Harry and Hermione leaned over their history texts and pretended to be interested in the subject matter.
"I wouldn't say skulking, exactly, but yeah, something like that," Harry agreed, looking over the letter again. It was extremely precise, leaving not much room for argument - the guy, Mokuba's elder brother apparently, really expected to meet him tomorrow morning at the gates of Hogwarts. And, apparently, he expected no problems regarding that plan. "Yugi's not too worried about him though - I got the impression that as scary as the Priest is, he can't actually do anything."
"Yes, I doubt he would let this Malik stay here if he could be dangerous to the students - with the laws of summoning being so strict," Hermione agreed, taking the letter. "Kaiba Corporation. I think I've heard about that somewhere…."
"Why does the Duellist Court have a Regent when they already have a King?" Ron wondered, leaning forward. "Is this Seto Kaiba person something like an undersecretary?"
"More like vice-president, maybe," Harry mused. "I don't really know, but judging by what Mokuba said back on the train, he does some important work for the Court, so he's probably got that title for a reason." He sighed, leaning back a little and leaning his chin onto his palm. "I'm not that worried, though - Yugi warned me about this, so I guess he approves of it. I'm just worried about whether I'll be allowed to leave the school."
"With a letter of absence from the Ministry, no one should be able to stop you," Hermione said, frowning. "I think you can leave Hogwarts for personal reasons with permission from the Head of your house or the Headmaster too, but ministerial approval is something no one in Hogwarts should be able to object to."
"Yeah. Percy skipped a lot of his seventh year because he had an internship with the ministry - he kept prancing the absence letters in the living room all the time," Ron muttered, scowling slightly. "It was really annoying," he added, before giving Harry a look. "Pity this Kaiba-bloke didn't decide to do this stuff on Saturday. You could've skipped Umbridge's first detention."
"Yeah, that would've been useful," Harry agreed, sighing.
The letter of absence arrived during dinner that night, one of the few owls to arrive that late. Harry noted that the pompous ministry owl that delivered him the letter also took one to Umbridge who gave him some narrowed looks after reading hers, but he didn't really care. Instead he looked into his own letter, finding it pretty simple. "The Ministry hereby finds your reason for applying for a day's leave from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry merited, and permits you to be absent from the school from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m…" and so forth.
"Umbridge doesn't look happy. You think she was informed about you leaving tomorrow?" Ron asked under his breath.
"She is giving Harry the evil eye. I bet you my history notes that she'll be trying to interfere tomorrow," Hermione answered.
"Your history notes? Make it your potions notes, and you're on!"
Harry smiled at the two of them before folding the letter neatly and putting it between his books to make sure it wouldn't get wrinkled. He'd visit McGonagall's office later to let her know he'd be going, and he preferred to have the note as pristine as possible for that.
"Another love letter Harry?" Fred asked, while he and George slid to sit beside the three of them.
"No, sadly this one is more boring," Harry answered. "Nice prank, guys," he added, giving them a look. "Those flowers didn't at all entail that someone other than you two could be behind it."
"Yeeaah, we heard about that," George said, grimacing. "The prank wasn't supposed to go off until much later. We have no idea how it got triggered during your class."
"It was a nice one, though, wasn't it?" Fred asked, grinning.
"You gave us quite the inspiration with that paper rosey, you know," his twin nodded
"It's put us in a bit of a bind, though. Once it's an accident, twice is a pattern forming," Fred murmured, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If this means that the next time we do something, someone else gets the credit for it, I quit."
"Does that mean you will stop selling stuff in the common room? Or hiring people to be your test subjects?" Hermione asked cuttingly.
"Why, I have no idea what you mean, lovely Hermione, the rose among us weeds?" George said, batting his eyes innocently.
"Yes, whatever are you talking about, sweet Prefect friend of ours whom we so adore?"
She rolled her eyes at them, and turned back to her food.
As Harry shook his head intending to do the same, the twins leaned closer to him. "Though, seriously, Harry. This is a matter of professional pride here. Stop taking credit," Fred whispered to him. "We'll bribe you, alright? Anything you want, we'll get - free of charge, if it isn't too expensive or we can make it ourselves."
"I'll think about it," the summoner promised, amused.
McGonagall, it turned out, didn't much care for the state of the note. "I don't know if leaving the school grounds is so wise, even if it's such an important matter," she said, frowning. "You should've talked with us professors first - or at least let the Headmaster know so he could've supplied you with a proper escort --"
"I don't need an escort - I already have one," Harry answered, fingering the letter of absence thoughtfully.
"Someone from the Order?"
"A friend of a friend," Harry answered, wondering if he would forever describe the Court members like that. "I'll just be ten hours. I'll pop into Diagon Alley, visit Gringotts, and I'll be back before dinner. Nothing will happen in that time, and even if it does, I'm legally an adult now and I know how to protect myself."
"That is not the issue, at least not all of it. There are other worries than the Dark Lord and his ilk. The ministry…" the Head of Gryffindor house grimaced, rubbing her hand over her chin. Then she shook her head and looked at him seriously over the edge of her glasses. "I noticed that you have already been assigned a month's worth of detentions with Delores for a, hm, prank, I assume?"
"Yeah, something like that," Harry nodded, frowning. "You think she'll be butting into my personal business outside Hogwarts?"
The woman sighed. "They are… interfering with matters at Hogwarts - and, I assume, curious about the Order. It wouldn't be wise for them to catch you unawares, especially when there is no one else nearby. Delores might use her status at the Ministry to make herself your escort tomorrow, and letting her see your private financial matters wouldn't be all that wise."
"I have no intention of letting her see any of it," Harry snorted. "The letter said nothing about me needing an escort, especially not her. Even if she tries, I'll just tell her to shove off."
"Hm, yes. But be that as it may, it is highly possible that the Minister will send another official to Gringotts to oversee the proceedings or something of the sort," McGonagall said. "And without a… more experienced adult there to watch over your best interests, I fear you might be taken advantage of without your own knowledge."
"As I already said, I'm not going alone," Harry answered, tapping the letter's fold impatiently. He rather doubted that this Seto Kaiba, whatever he was like, was exactly inexperienced either. Not if he was the CEO of a corporation - and muggle corporations were probably harder to manage than their magical equivalents.
"Yes. The friend of your friend," McGonagall murmured, giving him a doubtful look. "Perhaps it would still be better if one of the staff escorted you -"
She trailed away at Harry's irritated sigh. "You can escort me down to the gates - but beyond that, I already have an escort," he said. "I don't need another one. I'm not here to ask your permission or approval or your guiding hand to hold mine as I cross the Merlin damned street," he added, and held the letter up. "I already have my permission and I'm telling you I will be away from school tomorrow. That's all."
She fell silent, regarding him with a highly unimpressed look. "I will be informing the headmaster about this," she said finally.
"Go ahead. If he looks me in the eye when he orders my imprisonment, I might even listen," Harry harrumphed, shoved the letter into his bag and left.
He was sure he only imagined the hissing laughter following him as he did. Pretty sure anyway.
The next morning Harry woke up early to select his clothing. Something about Seto Kaiba's missive - and title and reputation and all the stuff the other Court members had said about him - made him feel that showing up in Dudley's old rags was probably not a good idea. The problem was, unless he wore robes and cloaks, Dudley's old rags were all he had - and he didn't know if they'd be 'dealing with his finances' in the muggle or in the magical world.
"Ten galleons for you to rent me your best set of muggle clothes for the day," he finally said, turning to Dean Thomas who, being muggle raised had the best muggle clothes in their dormitory. The dark skinned boy gave him half sleepy, half confused look over the edge of his comforter. "If they're especially nice, I'll bring you some butterbeer?" Harry offered desperately.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," his dorm mate answered, yawning and burying himself back into his bed. "Just don't mess up my trunk too badly, 'kay?"
Harry took special care to fold every article of clothing he inspected but rejected while realising that Dean was awesome and had very excellent clothes. Harry's own button up shirt and Gryffindor neck tie worked perfectly with Dean's dark brown jacket and pants, and after some thinking Harry also borrowed the other boy's shoes. Maybe the result wasn't as good as his bottle green dress robes, but it was certainly better than anything Harry had.
"Well, aren't we looking nice," said Hermione, who was already awake and reading in the common room when he came down, looking up from her book. "You could do something about your hair?"
"Like what, set it on fire? Aside from that, I've tried everything trust me. It's semi sentient and won't listen to me," Harry answered nervously, tugging at his tie. It was easy to wear a tie with his Hogwarts uniform - everyone had one and no one particularly cared about how they wore theirs. But to wear one with a muggle jacket, it just seemed slightly more… official. And Harry had never been too good with official.
"Come here, I'll see what I can do," Hermione sighed, and awkwardly Harry sat down beside her so she could play with his hair. "I wish I could come with you. I've wanted to learn more about the magical financial system, but I've never had enough galleons to do more than shop," she mused. "You will have to tell me all about it when you come back."
"I'll do one better and call you every five minutes," Harry said, showing the mirror phone. "Begging for help I imagine."
She grinned, taking out her wand and running it over Harry's hair. "I'm sure it'll go fine. What with your rose giving special someone being Mr. Kaiba's boss," she mused, grinning wider.
"Yugi's not --"
"And yet it's Yugi now, and not Mutou? Hm?"
Harry flushed, looking away. "I don't know," he murmured. "I mean… maybe it's something, but I don't know what it is? I mean, Yugi's been sort of stalking me for months now, right? I kind of got used to that. And he's kind of…" he trailed away, thinking about the way Yugi was with the pharaoh. "But, but I never thought of him like that. Or myself. Or… uh. It's just, it's confusing."
"Yeah, I bet," she chuckled. "But men don't send roses to just anyone you know. Even paper ones."
"I still think that was sort of like a joke. I mean, I was joking about it earlier - I think he sent the rose to me just because he could," Harry sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Anyway, I bet this whole thing with Kaiba, it's probably just settling the whole payment for Bakura, since he worked as my witness for defence, and all."
"If that's the only thing, it wouldn't take ten hours," Hermione pointed out.
"Yeah, probably not," Harry murmured, squirming slightly as she poked his scalp with her wand. "Do you think finances are hard to understand?"
"Nearly impossible - so you should be just fine," she answered, and pulled her wand back. "And I'm done," she announced, waving the wand and creating a mirror. "What do you think?"
Harry blinked, turning his eyes to his reflection and frowning. "Eh," he said after a moment. His hair looked like it had been combed back and fixed there with wax or something. It looked… well, it might've looked good on someone, but on him the style looked… kind of absolutely bloody ridiculous. "I… I don't know, Hermione…. It's kind of…."
She grinned, put the mirror away and then proceed to ruffle his hair into perfect disarray, knocking his glasses askew and nearly making him fall off the couch "There," she said victoriously, pulling the mirror up again and smirking smugly. "Perfect."
"Hey, what -! You insane witch, what are you doing?" Harry demanded, and then glanced at the mirror. He groaned. Somehow his hair looked even worse than before. "Last time I ask you to do my hair."
Hermione laughed. "You look fine," she assured. "Why are you up this early, though? You're not supposed to go until eight, right?"
"Yeah, but I was hoping to catch some breakfast before going - but I don't want to go to the Great hall in case someone decides to start a food fight - or, you know, Umbridge decides to throw me into detention or something," Harry said.
"So, you want to go get something to eat and then sneak away before anyone can stop you," Hermione nodded. "Go wake up Ron and we'll go down to the kitchens, then."
After he had dragged Ron out of bed, they headed to the portrait entrance of the kitchens and down from there to the kitchens themselves, where the house elves were in a mad whirl of work, preparing for the breakfast. Hermione got a pained look on her face as she saw them, and she looked like she wanted to apologise for the way Ron just went right ahead and demanded food.
"Aah, bacon. Delicious bacon. C'mere, bacon," Ron grumbled, still half asleep and barely coherent
"It's wrong," Hermione murmured, giving Harry a sideways look. "You understand, right? It's slavery and it's wrong."
"I don't know," Harry answered, gratefully accepting the porridge the elves offered him. "Is summoning slavery?"
She frowned. "Actually --"
"No, it isn't," Harry stopped her before she could start - because he really didn't need her to get that idea into her head. "Being summoned and serving is something the summons decide for themselves. It gives them a purpose for their existence, it gives them something to do - I think it also gives them better status in the shadow realm and makes them more powerful."
"Yes, but house elves have no choice."
"Don't they? Any time they could pick any piece of clothing lying around and see it as sign of being given clothes. Especially in Hogwarts - with hundreds of us there, you can bet your hair bun there's always a couple leaving their clothes around," Harry shrugged. "But they don't. They take the clothing and wash it and return them and that's that. I wonder why that is?"
"He's got a point," Ron said around a mouthful and swallowed noisily. "I leave my clothes on the floor all the time."
Hermione frowned at them and sighed. "I don't have a hair bun," she finally muttered, making the boys share a grin. She glared at them. "It doesn't mean I accept it, or like it!" she snapped.
"We know," Harry answered with a knowing nod. "That's why we love you."
"We know you really would like a hair bun," Ron agreed solemnly and only narrowly avoided Hermione's punch.
After they had finished eating, Harry and Ron parted ways with Hermione, whose first class started at eight and thus she couldn't walk Harry to the gates. Ron, though, had his first class later, so he accompanied Harry out of the castle and down the way students usually went to visit Hogsmeade.
"Hey, if you get the chance, could you see if you could buy me the new issue of the Quidditch Weekly?" Ron asked as they walked. "And, you know, for yourself too. Buy it for yourself and then let me read it?"
"I'll see if I can stop by the store," Harry snorted, and looked up as he saw some people at the gates. The most prominent and most easily recognizable figure was Umbridge, whose robes were violently pink against the green of the hills around them. Next to her there was Professor McGonagall, who was thankfully wearing her teaching robes and apparently not getting ready for a trip off the school grounds. Then there was --
"Is that Bill?" Ron asked with surprise, as they recognized the man in a dragon hide jacket and boots, slouching casually against the gate's side. "Oi, Bill! What're you doing here?!"
"Hey there, Ron. Harry," the long haired man said, waving at them while the two professors turned around, McGonagall looking peeved and Umbridge looking fairly narrow eyed. Despite the fact that the pink-robed woman had no doubt been trying to interrogate him, Bill looked perfectly at ease. "I'm here to escort Harry to Gringotts. Crowd back at home thought he should have someone experienced with asset handling."
"Asset handling?" Ron snorted, nudging Harry with his elbow. "Is it just me or does that sound perverted?"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "I guess it does. And Bill's experienced, too," he answered, making the long haired man waggle his eyebrows suggestively, much to McGonagall's disgust. "H'lo Professors," Harry greeted them, aiming the greeting mostly to the Deputy Headmistress. "Don't you have classes to teach?"
"We do," McGonagall said, sending a narrow eyed look at Umbridge.
"Mr. Potter," the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher started, smiling her sickly sweet smile. "My dear child. The Minister has informed me of your… important business at Gringotts and considering your unfortunate lack of a proper magical guardian, we feel it necessary for you to have company for this excursion, someone who can guide you in these important matters."
"Yes, and Mr. Weasley here is more than qualified - he's been working at Gringotts for several years now," McGonagall said, smiling a stony smile at the other professor.
"Mm, yes, I'm sure he has great deal of… experience with the lovely… keepers of the bank," Umbridge said, sending a sideways look at Bill who just smiled back. She smiled back disgustedly before turning to Harry. "However there is more to matters like these than just understanding the beasts who keep your wealth - something only a person properly acquitted with the Ministry can help you with."
"I don't think Mr. Potter’s personal finances have anything to do with the Ministry, Professor Umbridge," McGonagall said, looking like she wanted to roll her eyes - or shoot laser beams out of them. It was hard to tell which. "Mr. Weasley is more than good enough escort for Mr. Potter. Now, I think it's high time we returned to the castle, don't you think? Your first class starts at eight, doesn't it?"
"As does yours, Minerva - however I have already informed my students that the classes have been cancelled for the day. Now, you run along and let me handle --"
Whatever she said after that was drowned under a sound which was rather like lightning striking straight at them, and which nearly made Harry duck for cover and glance at the sky. Everyone around the gate jerked slightly - McGonagall and Bill both reached for their wands and glanced around for the source of the sound. Harry, though, was the first to see it - and probably the first to understand what it was.
A long black limousine, like the ones out of muggle movies, sped up the winding road and towards them at an unnaturally high speed, still slightly incorporeal after jumping. As the others hurried backwards and behind the protection of the Hogwarts Gates, Harry stared in wide eyed fascination as the Limousine curved to a violent halt, tires digging holes into the gravel as it veered towards the gates - and towards Harry.
"What the hell --" Harry could hear Ron asking behind him, over the nearly silent hum of the engines and not so silent crackle of magic, still flickering over the smooth, mirror-glassed vehicle. Before anyone could come up with an answer, though, the limousine's door opened from the driver's side, and a young, spotted man stepped out, dressed in an impeccable muggle suit. Harry gaped at him in shock for a moment, and then felt like slapping himself for some reason. Maybe because it seemed like some weird dream.
"Stan Shunpike?" McGonagall asked with shock.
"Yes, that’d be me," the young man said, smoothing his hand over the front of his suit, looking quite smug. Then he blinked and very nearly ran around the limo to hurriedly open the back seat door - to reveal the very spacious inside, which by the looks of it had been enlarged to the extreme by magic. As Harry watched with the feeling that he was seeing something as unstoppable and as horrifying as a train wreck, a tall, brown haired man smoothly came out of the limousine.
"Gravel," the man muttered, looking down at the ground with disgust. "Asphalt was invented decades ago - and for a good reason - and you haven't even upgraded to pavement yet," he snorted and looked up - and at Harry. Judging by his expression, he wasn't impressed by what he saw.
Harry on other hand, was beyond impressed and on the other side of intimidated. The man was tall. And so obviously rich that it was somewhat painful to look at. The long white coat he wore was such pure white that Harry had to wonder if it had even been made on earth - and all his other clothes seemed to follow suit, the majority of them the same perfectly pure white. What made him look so wealthy, though, was the expression. Malfoy could spend years trying and he would never reach that level of sheer self-assured disdain.
"Well then," Seto Kaiba said, glancing over Harry's borrowed coat and school uniform tie and raising a single sarcastic eyebrow at him. "We have a lot of business attend to and only so much time to do it. Get in," he said, motioning at the limousine, apparently without any intention of spending a second on pleasantries or proper introductions. But then he seemed like a man who went through life without needing either of them.
"Excuse me," Umbridge said, stepping forward. "I do not know who you are, sir, but I will have you know that I will be escorting Mr. Potter today --"
"You will?" the man asked. His expression didn't change, he didn't narrow his eyes, didn't do anything but suddenly he was glaring down at the Professor all the same. "Do I know you, woman?"
"I am the undersecretary of the Minister --"
"No, apparently not," Seto Kaiba said, and completely dismissed her importance, turning his attention instead to McGonagall and Bill, who had a curious look about his face. "Does anyone else think they will be escorting Mr. Potter today?" the Regent of Duellist Court asked, while Harry realised why the Duellist Court had a Regent. For the simple reason that this man probably wouldn't have settled for anything less.
"Mr. Weasley will," McGonagall said, looking confused and worried and somewhat fascinated all at the same time. "He works for Gringotts Bank and can offer some insights if necessary," she added, glancing at Umbridge who seemed rather dumfounded.
"Hm. We'll see," Seto Kaiba said, looking Bill over. He seemed at least fractionally satisfied by what he saw in Bill's unusual attire and casual expression, because he nodded with approval. "You can come," the Regent said. "Get in."
As Bill detached himself from the gate, casual and easy going as if nothing out of ordinary was going on, Harry glanced at Ron who was marvelling at the scene before him. "Yikes," the redhead mouthed to Harry, nodding towards Kaiba and shuddering dramatically. Harry sighed in agreement, and after a last uneasy glance at the aloof expression on the face of the imposing Regent of the Duellist Court, he slid into the magical limousine.
It was going to be a long day.