Many thanks to my fabulous beta, Ish.
Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to
Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling,
Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, despites the millions
I’m making off this *coughIwishcough*
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Chapter 2
By mid-afternoon of the next day, Kurama was mortally glad he’d not made any attempts to contact this branch of the family previously. A little over twenty-four hours with them and he knew the Dursleys would have driven him completely mad.
It was only him, Petunia, Dudley and Harry that day. Vernon had been unable to take the day off -“Terribly important business deal, I’m sure you understand”- but had graciously left the car so Petunia could show him around. Dudley would have gladly stayed behind, but for Petunia’s insistence; Harry would have been left behind, but for Kurama’s insistence.
Dudley whined constantly. As far as Kurama could tell, he only stopped whining to eat or to pick on Harry. Petunia gushed incessantly about how wonderful her family (at least her husband and son) were, pausing only to frown askance at him whenever he started getting too friendly with Harry. Kurama was nearly at his wit’s end, but Harry seemed to be taking it all stoically enough. Of course, he’d had his entire life to get used to it. Still, Kurama couldn’t help the mounting sympathy he was feeling for his youngest great-grandchild.
They were currently maneuvering their way through the crowded corridors of the Surrey Quay Shopping Centre. Kurama could easily think of two dozen people off-hand he'd rather go shopping with. Dudley was bored by everything and not even store demos for gory first-person shooters could keep his attention for long. Petunia was clearly a woman who didn't shop for pleasure. Kurama didn't think she did anything for pleasure. Harry seemed to enjoy looking at things at least, but hadn't purchased so much as a single video game (Dudley had gotten five).
Now Kurama steered his wayward family into a bookstore. He intended to get a few easy-to-read books for his stepbrother, who also bore the name Shuichi. He really needed to work on his English - he wasn't doing very well in class. Kurama found himself suddenly thinking that having Harry around would probably help young Shuichi's English tremendously....
'Now, now,' he told his subconscious firmly. 'I'm still not sure if I should take him back with me.' Still, he knew it would probably be best to get the boy away from both the wizards and his immediate family. Before it was too late, and the boy was firmly entrenched in the wizarding world. True, he hadn't shown any signs of the usual wizard prejudices - in fact, he'd been quite delighted by Kurama's original body — but that didn't mean he couldn't be taught.
Hate is a learned behavior, after all
Kurama was intently browsing the Literature section when Harry popped up beside him. "Looking for anything particular?" he asked curiously.
"Just... something easy for my step-brother. He's learning English in school."
"Oh. Well, you're in the wrong section, then." Kurama gave Harry a bemused look as he followed the boy to a smaller section labeled "Teens" that was tucked into the furthest corner from the door. "This is the easy stuff." He grinned briefly. "We read some of these in primary school."
Kurama began perusing titles, while Harry grabbed a book and retreated to a footstool. Halfway across the store, he could hear Dudley complaining loudly that they didn't carry any decent comic books. He winced, wondering how in the nine hells his genes had managed to produce that.
Sighing, he placed another book in his growing pile. It seemed this particular branch of the family had produced almost nothing worth Kurama's interest—nothing but his granddaughter Lily, and her son Harry. And they were both wizards. In fact, Kurama was rather partial to the idea of permanently ending the Dursley branch of his family. He highly doubted anything good could come out of it, if Vernon and Dudley were any example.
Petunia appeared from behind the shelves like—dare he say?—magic. "Are you having fun, Shuichi?" Her smile bordered on simpering. "I don't think I've ever spent so much time in a bookstore before."
“I often do,” he replied absently. “Books are humankind’s greatest invention really.”
Petunia looked doubtful, but smiled and nodded anyway. Kurama fought to keep the contempt out of his expression. These people were so—mundane—that it wasn’t even funny. “Are you going to purchase that book, Harry, or are you just going to read it?”
Harry looked up guiltily from the book he was perusing. “Oh… sorry.” Red crept into his cheeks as he rose to put the book back. Petunia was scowling and looked like she wanted to say something particularly nasty. Kurama chuckled and shook his head.
“Don’t be sorry, Harry. If you like it, why don’t you buy it?”
“Oh… I, uh, don’t have any money. You know?”
Kurama frowned and looked up at Petunia. “I’m sure Petunia would be happy to buy it for you. I’m sure it isn’t half as expensive as all those video games she bought for your cousin.”
Petunia’s expression indicated that she’d not be happy to do any such thing. Kurama found himself wondering if the shabby state of Harry’s clothes was due to teen rebellion, as he’d initially thought, or because Harry's aunt and uncle refused to buy him any new clothes.
"...Or if not, I'd be happy to."
Petunia cringed, but said, "No, no, Shuichi, I'll get it."
Kurama smirked at the gleeful expression on Harry's face. 'Come to think of it,' he thought, 'I don't recall seeing any toys or books in his room, besides his school things and some broken junk piled in one corner. I wonder if they ever bought him anything.' He scowled inwardly. If they'd been abusing his favorite great-grandson.... Well, that could be dealt with later.
~**~
It was after dinner, and Shuichi was sharing a drink with Petunia in the dining room. Vernon had retreated as quickly as possible, Dudley had run off to meet his friends with a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, and Harry had gone up to his room, presumably to read his new book.
Kurama leaned back in his chair, idly trailing his fingers along the rim of the fine crystal shot glasses. "So tell me, Petunia... Why do you hate Harry so much?"
The expression on her face as she choked on her brandy was quite gratifying. "What makes you think I do?"
"Besides the fact that you treat him horribly? That you scowl at him every time he's around? That you refuse to buy him anything, even new clothes? Or the things Vernon says to him when he thinks I'm not listening? Good lord, Petunia, I've only been here a little more than a day and I can already tell you've been treating the boy like—"
"It isn't like that!" she interjected angrily, face red. "You don't know him, can't understand what he's like—"
"Than tell me!" Kurama stood, eyes flashing angrily. "Tell me what gives you the right to treat him horribly! Tell me why you can't be decent to your sister's only child."
"You don't know anything," she screeched, leaping to her feet and slamming her hands down on the table. "You don't know what she was, what he is—"
"A wizard?"
The blood drained from her face. Kurama briefly wondered if perhaps Hiei had snuck in and opened her from behind. "You.... you know." She sank slowly back down into the chair. The house was unnaturally silent except for her heavy breathing, and Kurama didn't doubt that the two other present residents were frozen in place, listening intently. "You know what he is."
"Yes." He folded his arms across his chest, frowning down at her. "I saw his school books." He hesitated. "Is that why you hate him so much?"
Her hands clenched into tight fists on the table. "It's disgusting." She looked up, almost fearfully. "You're not..."
"No," he answered shortly. "I'm not."
Her shoulders slumped with relief. "Thank God. If there were any more in the family...."
"Petunia, if you knew anything about your heritage..." He trailed off, not certain he wanted her to know who she really was. Who he really was.
She moaned and covered her face with her hands. "Were they all wizards?"
"No," he said gently. "They weren't wizards. They... weren't even human."
She gave an anguished cry, jerking her head up. "I'm not a freak like him! I can't be! And... And Dudley...He’s perfect. Too perfect to be one of them...."
He pitied her then, and loathed her at the same time, and loathed himself for producing such a pitiful creature. "Dudley is about as far from perfect as a person can get, Petunia. And he isn't human, besides. At least, not completely. Neither are you, and neither is Harry. I suppose you could say he's more freakish than you... But at least he doesn't try and pretend to be something he's not, Petunia. You must know something about your heritage. Didn't your father ever tell you the tale of his father? The spirit-creature who dallied with your grandmother, and left her with child?" The horrified expression on her face told him all he needed to know. "It was true, Petunia."
"NO!"
She leapt up wildly, knocking over her glass. "It can't be true! It just can't
be..."
"Calm down, woman," he said dispassionately. "I didn't bring Harry up in order to turn your world upside down—although it seems I've done so. No, I was going to ask you politely—well, not ask, now. I'm telling you that I'm going to take Harry back with me to Japan. I expect you'll be happy to see him go. And I'm sure he'll be equally happy to be leaving you and your horrid husband and son behind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go up and let Harry know he needs to pack. I expect we'll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
He passed Vernon, who was lurking in the hall outside the dining room door. His round face was pale, and Kurama wondered how much longer the Dursleys would be one big happy family.
~**~
Harry was curled on his bed, staring blankly at the open pages of his new book. He hadn’t been able to absorb a word after Aunt Petunia’s incoherent shrieks had reached his ears less than half an hour ago. He wondered what Shuichi—Kurama—had said to her. He found himself hoping it was something extremely nasty, although his second-cousin/great-grandfather didn’t seem the type.
Harry smiled to himself dreamily. To think, all these years Kurama had been just a hop, skip, and a jump (and an extremely long plane ride) away. The knowledge that the Dursleys weren’t his only living relatives still filled him with warmth, even twenty-four hours after learning the truth about Shuichi Minamino. And it seemed he had another family in Japan, whom Kurama had assured him would be thrilled to meet him. Harry was dying to meet them.
It wasn’t
like Sirius wasn’t a great godfather or anything, but he wasn’t family
in the strictest sense of the word, and Harry had longed all his life for blood
relatives who cared for him.
Not to mention the things he was learning about himself! He grinned, picturing the dashing figure Kurama made in his kitsune body. Harry half-hoped that someday he might be able to change into something like Kurama. After all, he wasn’t really human, was he?
There came a gentle rapping at the door, and at Harry’s cheerful “Come in!” Kurama entered and shut the door quietly behind him.
“Enjoying the book, Harry?”
“Yeah.” He grinned broadly. “It was great, what you did earlier. Making Aunt Petunia buy something for me.”
Kurama’s expression was neutral. “I take it she and your uncle don’t buy you things often?”
Harry snorted. “Are you kidding? They never buy me anything if they can help it. All my clothes used to belong to Dudley, and they always bought my shoes at thrift stores, since Dudley’s feet are a lot bigger than mine. I think that’s the first time anyone in this family has bought me something that I didn’t absolutely need.”
His grin faded when he realized Kurama didn’t seem to share his jubilation. “Is there something wrong?”
Kurama frowned. “Besides the fact that Petunia and Vernon are horrible people who have mistreated my favorite great-grandson?” Harry lowered his eyes, and Kurama moved quickly to the bed, settling down next to him. “Don’t feel bad, Harry. I know we haven’t known each other for long… But I feel there is a great deal I could teach you, about life, the world… about your powers. If you’ll let me, I mean.”
Harry looked up curiously, and Kurama smiled hesitantly. “What I mean to say is… Would you like to come live with me, Harry?”
Harry would swear later that his heart stopped beating then. Did Kurama mean it? Did he really want Harry… But wait. Hadn’t Sirius made the same offer? But Kurama wasn’t a convicted criminal who’d escaped from Azkaban and was now on the run from Dementors….
He swallowed hard around the inexplicable lump in his throat. “D-d’you mean it? Could I… Do you really want me to…?
Kurama smiled warmly as he leaned over to wrap his arms around Harry in a gentle hug. His new book fell, forgotten, to the floor. “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
Harry stayed in Kurama’s warm embrace for several moments before reality gave him a nasty blow. He pulled away. “I can’t, Kurama. I’ve got school… and I don’t think Professor Dumbledore—my Headmaster—would want me to leave here. There are, you know, protections and things here. To keep me safe from Voldemort.”
Kurama frowned. “Don’t worry about that. I highly doubt that some senile old wizard can provide better protection for you than I can.”
“Dumbledore isn’t senile—he’s the greatest wizard who ever lived!”
“That may be so, but…” Kurama shook his head. “No matter. Suffice it to say that I can provide equally… adequate protection.”
“But school—“
“That won’t be a problem,” said the redhead blandly. “We can fly back a few days before it starts.”
“Ah.” Harry hesitated for a moment, then said, “But aren’t plane tickets expensive?”
Kurama gave him an odd look. “Nothing I can’t afford. Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll take care of you.”
Harry couldn’t help the grin that stretched over his face, and was thoroughly heartened by the answering grin on Kurama’s. Suddenly, despite all that had happened, this summer was looking to be the best Harry had ever had.
~**~
“Have you seen Hedwig’s cage?” Harry asked urgently as he poked his head around the guest room door. “I could’ve sworn I left it—“
“You already put it downstairs, remember?” Kurama hid a grin as Harry cursed under his breath and disappeared, presumably to find whatever else he had lost in the course of packing. Harry was quite obviously thrilled to be leaving—a fact that delighted Kurama to no end. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘it won’t be that difficult to convince him to stay with me… and away from the wizarding world.’
Kurama turned as Hiei’s energy tingled up his spine. “Is he almost ready to go?” Hiei asked as he swung onto the windowsill.
“Almost. Is the room ready?”
The Koorime smirked. “Filthy little room in the seediest place I could find. No one is going to be asking questions.” He handed Kurama a folded slip of paper. “The address and key.”
“And the wards?”
“Not even Genkai could pierce them.”
“Excellent." Kurama crossed his arms over his chest and smiled pleasantly at his companion. “I don’t know how to thank you for all your help, Hiei. This would be highly bothersome without your skills.”
“You know how to thank me, Kurama. Just point me in the direction of that school of his,” said Hiei with a bloodthirsty grin.
“The most difficult part will be unleashing the kitsune within Harry without harming him,” Kurama continued, pointedly ignoring Hiei’s last remark. Kurama disliked harming children—even wizarding children—and Hiei well knew it.
“I reserved the room for two days,” Hiei casually changed the subject.
“I hope we don’t need it that long,” Kurama replied. “If we’re lucky, we may be able to leave tonight.”
“Really lucky.” Hiei snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up, Kurama. This will probably take a day, at least.”
And neither of them spoke of what would happen if Harry refused to undergo the change.
~**~
If the cab driver found anything strange about a young boy toting a Snowy Owl, he didn’t make any comment, although he did give Harry some rather strange looks. But Kurama’s soothing manner put the cabbie at ease—or maybe it was his stunning good looks, as the cabbie couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Harry’s great-grandfather.
“Where ye be goin’?” asked the cabbie. Kurama silently handed him a slip of paper. The man looked a little surprised, but said nothing as he pulled away from the curb in front of the Dursley home.
The Dursleys hadn’t come out to say goodbye; that didn’t surprise Harry. What did surprise him was that he hadn’t seen them at all, despite the fact that it was nearly ten. Dudley never missed breakfast, and Aunt Petunia would never be late fixing it. The house had been void of Dursley-life. Harry wondered if it had something to do with Kurama’s argument with Aunt Petunia the previous night.
He
leaned his head against the window, eyes drifting shut. Hedwig hooted softly
beside him, her cage belted in the middle seat. The gentle vibrations of the
cab were making him tired. Consumed with excitement over his impending trip to
Japan (and leaving the Dursleys) Harry had hardly been able to sleep. It’ll
be all right if I just close… my….’
“Harry!”
He instinctively jerked away as he felt a hand in his hair. “Geroff!”
At Kurama’s warm chuckle, Harry opened his eyes. “Sorry, I must have… fallen…” Harry trailed off, eyes wide, as he realized he was no longer in the cab, no longer anywhere he recognized. “What…”
Realizing he was flat on his back, he pushed himself up. Kurama, who had been bending over him, took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back. Harry’s eyes slowly scanned the room—he was on a bed with stained sheets and a sagging mattress, the walls were dirty gray, the window covered with heavy brown curtains… and on the worn loveseat covered with paisley upholstery sat the strangest little man Harry had ever seen.
Black hair rose in large, gravity-defying spikes, with a ragged patch of white at the front. Large red eyes (‘Voldemort eyes…’ he shuddered) glared at him from beneath a white cloth wrapped around his forehead. His face was made up of hard angles, and a small mouth. He wore a dark blue tunic with a sword belt at his waist. The sword and a long black coat lay on the seat next to him.
Slowly, he turned to stare at Kurama. “What’s going on?” The words sounded harsh, even to him. “Where am I?”
The little man made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Impressive. Didn’t I tell you, Kurama? Exactly like Yusuke. And probably with similar power potential.”
Harry divided glares between the two. Kurama’s eyebrows had risen in faint surprise. “Do you really think so, Hiei?”
Harry tensed as hard red eyes scrutinized him carefully. Harry scooted to the other side of the bed and slid off, careful not to present his back (a rather tempting target) to either of them—and trying to keep the hurt from his expression as he groped in his pocket for his wand.
Relief flooded through him as his fingers wound around the smooth wood and he pulled it out, pointing between them, ready to attack either.
To his affront, the little man—Hiei? —actually chuckled. Sharp features had a distinctly amused cast to them. “There’s no mistaking that feeling.”
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” he screeched angrily, wand trembling with the force of his anger.
“Calm down, Harry,” said Kurama placidly. “I’m not going to harm you, and neither is Hiei. Who, by the way, is a very dear friend of mine, and I expect you to treat him with respect.” The last said in a firm, no-nonsense tone.
Harry’s glare melted into an incredulous stare. “What’s going on?” he repeated weakly.
Kurama and Hiei exchanged glances. “I told you, I’m taking you home. But first… First, I want—need—to do something.”
“Something…?”
“To you.” Kurama sat on the bed and patted the place next to him. The same look and gesture from a few nights ago. Feeling reassured (but not knowing why), Harry moved forward, this time to join his great-grandfather on the bed. “I told you that you weren’t human—at least, not completely.”
“Yes.” He stole a glance at Hiei—but the mysterious man had unsheathed his short, curved sword and was examining it - to all appearances, uninterested in what his “dear friend” had to say.
“However, the aspects of you that aren’t human are—for lack of a better term—locked away. Before I take you to Japan, I want to unlock your, er, inner kitsune.”
Harry thought about it for a moment. “So, do you mean I could turn myself into, you know, something like you did?”
“Among other things, yes.”
Excitement welled in him, and Harry completely forgot his fright of a few moments ago. “Awesome.”
Kurama’s lips curled into an amused smile—and was that relief in his expression? “I’m glad you think so. It will open new worlds—and endless possibilities—to you.”
Harry grinned broadly. “But that’s great!” Hiei snorted from the love seat, but Harry ignored him. “Can you do it right now?”
“That was the plan, yes,” Kurama admitted. “But I must warn you, Harry—some aspects of the change might be painful.”
Harry frowned. “Painful? Why?”
“Well, to cope with the changes, your body is going to have to change, as well. Like growing pains, except far more intense, as it will be happening in a relatively short period of time.”
“Oh.” He absently stroked his wand as he thought. “But it won’t last long, will it?”
“No,” Kurama replied. “Not long at all.”
‘It can’t possibly be any worse than the Cruciatus Curse,’ he thought darkly. “All right,” he said aloud. “How soon can we start?”
Kurama and Hiei exchanged wry glances. “What?” Harry demanded.
“I must admit, I find your enthusiasm a bit… odd,” Kurama told him. “Most people, you understand, would be a little apprehensive in this situation.” Harry gave him a blank look. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be excited? “Never mind,” Kurama laughed. “I suppose we can begin now, if you like.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Lay down and make yourself comfortable,” Kurama promptly replied, rising as he did so. Shrugging, Harry kicked off his shoes and lay back, setting the wand next to him on the bed.
“Normally, this process might take a good bit of time. But Hiei has generously agreed to assist me in this endeavor.” Harry looked nervously at the strange man, who had put aside his sword and stood at Kurama’s words.
“There is no need to be afraid, Harry. I would trust Hiei with my life—have done so numerous times, in fact. Hiei has some very… specialized skills that will be highly useful to us in this.”
“How so?”
“Hiei, come here, please.”
Harry watched curiously as Hiei went to Kurama’s side. The redhead stared intently into the smaller man’s eyes for a second before placing two fingers lightly against the middle of Hiei’s forehead. “Beneath this cloth, Harry, is something known as a ‘Jagan.’ A Jagan is a sort of implanted magical third eye that focuses—and sometimes increases—power. It can also be used for many other things, including delving into a person’s soul.”
Harry gasped, and Kurama smiled. “It is a fearsome thing, Harry, and on the wrong person can be a tool of great destruction. The human legend of the Evil Eye originates from the Jagan.”
“What does it have to do with me?” he asked worriedly, nervously eying the Jagan-bearing man.
“Hiei is going to use his Jagan to release the aspects of your nature that were subjugated by your human heritage.”
“Oh.” Harry’s eyes dropped to his wand. “So he’s going to use it on me then?”
“Never fear, Harry,” said Kurama reassuringly. “Hiei knows what he’s doing, and he won’t harm you more than is absolutely necessary for this to work.”
“I see.” It didn’t sound pleasant, but… Squaring his shoulders, he raised his eyes to meet Kurama’s and Hiei’s in turn. “Let’s get started, then.”
~**~
Pain. Unrelenting, endless pain. Welling from the depths of his soul, from heel to head, deep within his mind. He was consumed by fire. He was being eaten alive by tiny pinpricks, great roaring waves. He was dying; he was already dead. He was alive; no dead thing could feel what he did. Pain. Searing, aching, ripping him apart, melting him in turns. The world was black: nothing existed but the fire that raged within him, that twisted his spine and flailed his limbs and ripped screams from his throat until it was raw, and continued to rip. He was drowning in it, drowning in the fire. This was Hell, he was dead… It hurt, hurt, hurt, but he was still alive, wouldn’t die, still alive, alive, alive, ALIVE!
~**~
“Local cuisine,” Kurama announced as he quickly shut the
door behind him. For once, he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard over
Harry’s tortured screams. “Since you’ve expressed your dislike for everything
else,” he added as he placed it on the dresser next to the bed.
Hiei was no longer lying next to Harry, attention focused
on nothing but the boy, but was now sitting upright on the bed next to him,
still focused, but with less intensity. Coupled with the cessation of Harry’s
screams, Kurama took this as a good sign.
“If they sat they serve Chinese food, then they should
actually serve Chinese food, and not
that altered imitation garbage,” The Koorime said absently as he rose, turning
his eyes towards the food and sniffing appreciatively. Harry gave a pained moan
at the movement. “At least it smells
good.”
“Indeed.” They fell silent as Kurama pulled the Styrofoam
boxes from the plastic bag, as well as the provided plastic dining utensils.
“It’s over, then.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Hiei gave him a guarded look. “He’s stronger than
he looks—stronger than he realizes, I think. He should pull through.”
“He should,” the redhead agreed. That didn’t ease the
tension however.
The one thing Kurama had neglected—purposefully—to tell
Harry was that the process of awakening his kitsune aspects was potentially fatal. There was always the possibility that, despite his strength
and heritage, Harry’s body would simply be unable to cope with the changes, and
he would be consumed by his own power and would perish.
He felt bad of course. But frankly, Kurama would rather
see his great-grandson die than continue living as he had been. It was a crime,
and a waste. Besides, Kurama had never really doubted Harry’s ability to handle the change. Although being witness
to the process was entirely too nerve-wracking for Kurama’s peace of mind.
Leaving Hiei to start on the food (a mistake, if one was
hungry, as Hiei had an astoundingly fast metabolism, as well as a miniature
black hole in his stomach), Kurama leaned over the bed and rested his hand on
Harry’s forehead. Energy crackled up his hand and down his spine, and the boy stirred
and moaned softly at the contact. Kurama was pleased to note that the energy
was decidedly kitsune in nature, and
that Harry’s flesh had cooled significantly since he’d last checked, before
going to get them lunch. The boy had stopped thrashing when he was away as
well.
Over twenty-four hours, and Harry was still alive. It was
an encouraging state. Kurama was even furthered encouraged when the boy’s eyes
fluttered briefly, his lips parted, and the hoarse, barely audible whisper
“Sirius,” came forth. Kurama didn’t know what “Sirius” meant (besides being a
constellation, of course). But he had no doubt now that Harry would make it.
The boy was his great-grandson, after all.
. .
