Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monkey D. Luffy, at the ripe old age of forty (which was pretty good for a pirate, really) had finally passed away. "Passed away" of course meaning that he had been publicly executed on the block for being King of the Pirates. Not just him of course, the rest of his crew would never allow that. They were all lined, all 10 of them, on their knees and chained to the ground, each with two guards behind then, spears ready to thrust.

And then... they died.

Now, generally when one dies, one does not expect to open their eyes again– the non-religious folk that is. And we all know that the only god Monkey D. Luffy believes in is the God of Meat. So Luffy died, expecting to be dead, and was therefore very surprised when he woke up, because most of the time dead people don't do that (most of the time, that is). Sitting up, he rubbed the center of his chest where the blades would have exited and looked around, troubled.

"Monkey D. Luffy," A hoarse voice whispered. There in front in him stood a decrepit old man with an equally decrepit and scruffy beard. "You have done many great things in your life." The old guy mumbled, scribbling something down on the notebook in his hands. "A GREAT many things. Without you, the death toll would have been quite a bit higher, in quite a few places."

Luffy blinked and shoved a finger up his nose. His stomach rumbled. "Hey, old man, you got any meat?"

The Old Man blinked, then shook his head. "No. No, I don't have any meat. But as I was saying–"

"Look old man, I don't really care, alright? I just wanna find my nakama and get some food." Luffy got to his feet slowly and dusted himself off. "Do you know where they are?"

"Know where... your nakama? Well of course I do!" The Old Man hmphed and crossed his arms, staring down skeptically at the boy.

"You do? Tell me then!" Luffy grinned, swinging his head around to look for his crew members, as if they would suddenly appear.

"Well, yes, but I need you to listen to me–" The Old Man pursed his lips, staring at Luffy with increasing annoyance.

"Where are they, where are they?!" He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet now, craning his rubbery neck higher to look for them.

"Look– would you just–"

"Tell me, tell me!"

"–I need to talk to you–"

"–Where where where where–"

"SHUT UP!" The Old Man yelled, smacking the 40-yr-old child upside the head. Luffy simmered down abruptly, rubbing his temple with a pout. The Old Man glared back. "Now, if you are sufficiently calm..." The Old Man paused, raising his brows as if daring Luffy to speak. "I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you." Luffy opened his mouth, as if to object, but shut it again when Old Man's glare intensified.

"Now then." The Old Man very seriously looked him dead in the eyes. "Monkey D. Luffy, you are dead."

Luffy paused momentarily, then blinked and scratched his head. "What, really?" He asked calmly.

"Yes really." The Old Man continued, pleased with his quiet reaction. All too often the dead would kick up a fuss in denial of their demise. "Now, you've done a great many things in life and it has earned you–"

"Look Old Man, I heard you before–" Luffy went to interrupt him again, impatient, hungry and bored.

"I'm not finished!" The Old Man snapped, a low growl growing in his chest. With another scorching glare, he cleared his throat and began again, looking at his clipboard. "Yes, so. A great many deeds, a great many lives saved. This has earned you a lot of good karma– so much in fact that the Gods are now indebted to you. Therefore, now that you are dead and you can no longer spend your karma, we must come to an agreement on what to do with it." The Old Man scribbled something on his clipboard, then raised an eyebrow, waiting for Luffy's response.

"... What's karma?" He asked, tilting his head. "Can I eat it? 'cause I'm kinda hungry and if I can just eat it then–"

"No, you cannot eat karma." A vein pulsed on Old Man's forehead and he sighed. "Karma is... like good luck. But now that you're dead, you can't use your good luck even though there's still a lot left over."

"Why can't you just give it to someone else?" He asked, swinging his arms.

"Because– you can't just give karma away! You have to earn it!" The Old Man was beginning to get a little red in the face, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his pen.

"You kinda look like a tomato old man... I don't think that's very healthy." Luffy laughed and went to poke the other before the Old Man slapped his hand away.

"Stop it." He hissed angrily before continuing. "One of the ways that we'll be able to get rid of your remaining karma is to reincarnate you. That way you'll be alive again so you can spend it."

"Wait– like you'll bring me back to life?" His eyes narrowed and Luffy crinkled his nose. "You can do that?"

"Only in extenuating circumstances, understand. We can't just bring anyone back from the dead. And you won't becoming back as you. You'll be born again, as someone else. You will not be Monkey D. Luffy anymore." Luffy stopped short at this. Not... be him? Be someone else? Luffy wasn't very attached to his name exactly, but it was his name. His life. Could he be someone else? Could he really do that, abandon everything that was... him? "Well... I guess that sounds alright–"

"Wonderful. We can begin right away then."

"But– wait!" Luffy shouted, waving his hands. "Not– I'm not gonna go without my nakama!" His brows furrowed only the slightest. "I'm not going unless they can come with me."

"Go with– but that's..." The Old Man floundered, flabbergasted. A... multiple reincarnation? The amount of karma needed for one person alone was– The Old Man stopped and looked down at Luffy's karma number. That was an awful lot of karma... Probably too much to spend even in two lifetimes... But... ten reincarnations? "I... Well, we might be able to make arrangements..." The Old Man spoke slowly as he thought. "Hmm... yes, that might work..." He jotted a few more things down with his pen.

"Very well." The Old Man nodded and ruffled through his papers, pulling out nine others. He then threw them into the air, where they promptly disintegrated, only for eight glowing figures to appear. When the light faded, the rest of his crew was standing there.

"Luffy!" Usopp yelled, tackling his captain and friend. Chopper too ran up to him, and the crew swiftly reunited, only to realize they were missing someone.

"Where's Brook?" Franky asked, looking around. There was nothing else but them in the black void.

"Him, yes. There appears to be a problem. Hold for a second." The rest of the Strawhats, who had just only noticed the Old Man, gaped as he disappeared with a crack and a flash of light.

"Luffy, who was that?" Nami asked, still wary of her surroundings.

"I dunno. Some old guy who says I've got too much caramel." Luffy shrugged, then pounced on his cook. "SANJI. I'M HUNGRY."

"Shitty captain!" Sanji stopped him from getting any closer with a boot to the face. "Don't you ever think about anything besides food?!" He stomped the boy into the ground then looked around. "Where are we anyways?" He asked uneasily, rubbing his chest.

Robin was the one to answer, in the most Robin-like way possible. "I'm almost certain that we are dead, Sanji-san." She said calmly. "I distinctly remember the pain of the spears piercing through my chest." She smiled serenely as everyone stared at her in horror.

"DEAD?!" Usopp shrieked, paling as he grabbed onto Chopper. "What do you mean we're dead? If we're dead then why are we talking?!"

"Maybe we're in hell. We were pirates after all." Sanji said, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling a skull shaped cloud of smoke. "This is just the prequel to our eternal suffering." Usopp whimpered, clutching Chopper for support, both on the verge of panicking, and then screamed as two more figures appeared with a flash and a bang. There stood the Old Man and Brook.

"Brook!" Luffy yells happily. "What took you so long?"

The Old Man scowled while Brook laughed jauntily. "As my companion here explained it, death had a hard time taking me– because I was already dead! Skull Joke! Yohohoho!"

Luffy guffawed, clapping like a seal, and laughed along with him. "Skull Joke!" Usopp and Chopper joined in as well, laughing along with their captain.

"Ah-hem." The Old Man cleared his throat, casting them disapproving looks. "Now. As I had previously been explaining to Monkey D. Luffy... by himself, Monkey D. Luffy has collected too much karma–" with this, he directed a piercing stare at Usopp, who had been about to interrupt." –which is like a form of good luck, if you will. As you are now all dead, you cannot spend your luck and we must decide what to do with it." He flipped through his papers once more. "I suggested reincarnation. However, Monkey D. Luffy has refused to reincarnate without the rest of his... nakama." The Old Man's disapproval on this choice was plain as day and the crew glared mutinously at the old codger.

"Alone, Monkey D. Luffy has enough karma to reincarnate three people, including himself. That is not enough for the entire nine of you." Eyes wide, the crew's breath stopped as one for a moment. "But, by combining the karma of everyone else in the crew– and subtracting the bad karma–" Here the Old Man glared sternly at a few sheepish members. "–there is enough karma to reincarnate only six of you." Shoulders slumped at these words and Luffy's mouth pursed into a thin line.

"This would be where the deal comes in." The Old Man continued, and hope alit once more. "We can make an accord to reincarnate rest of you, but only if you agree to do the Gods' will."

"Gods' will?" Zoro spoke up for the first time. "You mean like become priests or something?" His tone riddled with contempt. 

"No." The Old Man soured at having been interrupted. "There are certain men that have found ways to escape death." He looked pointedly at Brook, who held up his hands in apology. "Normally, the Gods can let this slip by, but when these men become too corrupted and throw off the balance of the universe, something must be done." His statement had a certain feeling of profundity that gave the crew a feeling of being part of something much larger than the world they knew. "If you should agree, you shall all be reincarnated. You will be reborn as different people in a different reality and you will have a mission to complete, in order to fulfill your side of the bargain."

"Wait– different reality? You mean like... not part of the Blues?" Nami interjected, stepping forward. "A whole different world?"

The Old Man snorted contemptuously. "Of course. You didn't really think you were the only world that existed, did you?" When he saw indeed that she had, he tsked disapprovingly. "Yes, an entirely different world. Different powers, different places, different people."

"Will... will we still all be together?" Chopper questioned timidly, poking his head out from behind Luffy's leg.

"... That can be arranged." The Old Man, it seemed, appreciated Chopper's more respectful manner, replying to him without the snark he'd been giving the rest of the crew.

They all shared a glance, thousands of words exchanged in only a few seconds of eye contact. With a few decisive nods, it seemed everyone had come to an agreement. "Alright old man!" Luffy grinned. "It's a deal!"

"Very well." The Old Man nodded in turn and signed something with a flourish. "The arrangements shall be done." He closed his clipboard and looked at them all, each in turn.

"You will be reborn with all your memories, as to make the task easier. The man whom you must kill is named Tom Riddle. In his world, he goes by the moniker 'Lord Voldemort'."

The black void they'd been standing in began to fade to white and the Old Man's words got quieter and quieter.

"I wish you all..."

A bright flash of white light, blinding them all as the world began to fade around them.

"... good luck. "

"The King must die so that the country can live."

Chapter Text

When Brook wakes up in a new world, with the old man's words still ringing in his ears, he is terrified. Then, he is fascinated. After that he goes through a whole range of emotions as he grows with his new family.

And there is magic, magic! How amazing! How strange! The first time he saw it, his eyes almost popped out of his head— ah, but he has no eyes! Skull Jo... Oh, he actually has eyes now. Hmm... This will take getting used to.

It's a fascinating new world with a new culture and new abilities (and new music!). His father is a loving man and his mother is very sweet and he has adorable little siblings as well. Admittedly, times would probably even happier than they are now if the world weren't at war, but he's used to such things really, having lived the life of a pirate for over a century.

When his family is killed— massacred by green lights before his very eyes— it is his aunt Amelia who takes him away. Aunt Amelia is a severe woman with more stress lines than laugh lines, but she has kind eyes. 

Weeks later, at Saint Mungo's when the healers are checking him over after the incident, and the nurses tiptoe around him, trying to gently explain to him that his family has "gone away" and that they won't be coming back. The mind healer asks him how he's feeling and if he has nightmares and if he knows what happened to his family (good, no, yes). If he likes his aunt Amelia, and does he think about dying or trying to see his parents again (yes and kind of yes, but he tells her no because that would give her the wrong idea). She, like the rest of the healers, is a little disturbed when he says that he knows they are dead. That he knows they are gone for good. That he really is okay. And Brook knows she is definitely disturbed when he tells her that he's happy they died quickly and painlessly. Children should not think of such things, apparently.

(But better to die in an instantaneous flash of light, than to waste away of hunger and disease, watching your comrades die and their bodies rot all around you.)

He doesn't always stay with his aunt, though he might like to. Amelia Bones is a busy woman, an important woman, and she has little time for child care, easy as it might be to take care of Brook. He spends a lot of time with his other aunt and uncle, and his little cousin Susan, who is only a year old. Though Susan is a joy to be around, her parents are tiring, with the way they treat him like glass and handle him with kid gloves. It's hard to act like a child all the time, especially when you're over a hundred years old (half of which was spent half-dead) and he doesn't always succeed. He knows because they give him odd looks and avoid touching him when they can.

Spending time with Amelia is a lot easier, simply because she doesn't actually spend time with him. Brook hates being alone, hates it with all his heart and always will because of the Florian Triangle, but he hates posturing almost as much. With Amelia, he has to do neither. She lets him sit nearby as she works, gives him vague answers to his chatterbox questions and basically let's him do what he wants. Which is how it should be because he is an adult (an elder!), even when stuck in a child's body.

By the time he is ten, Brook is still being shuffled between his remaining family. Amelia is now the head of the DMLE and Susan is now a bright-eyed, chubby cheeked little ball of sunshine. His birthday is fast approaching, and all people can say to him now is how he's almost eleven, almost time for Hogwarts, almost time to get a wand. He would say that they are even more excited than him, but that would be a lie.

Because he has searched his admittedly small new world for almost eleven years now, without finding his other family (his real family) without any clues. But maybe at Hogwarts, where all children are supposed to go (and they must be his age as well— they have to. He dares not think about possibly having to wait another eighty years to see his nakama).

Dear Mr. Bones,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Diagon Alley is a familiar sight, as the main wizard shopping district, but it seems almost different this time, alight with a new feel. There is a tangible excitement in the air.

He goes through the standard motions— books, robes, apothecary. He doesn't bother with an owl (or any other pet) because the only person to write to is Susan, and he can use the school owlery for that.

As expected, the most exciting part is the wand. Walking into Ollivander's is like walking into a separate world. The air is different and sunlight filters only weakly through the dusty windows. Ollivander himself is peculiar and delightful, though Brook's uncle seems to find him creepy. Finding his wand doesn't take very long, and Ollivander seems a bit disappointed by this.

He walks back into the bustling alley holding his new wand, 12 inches, alder and unicorn hair ("Quite an unyielding wood, best suited for non-verbal spells..."). It feels alive in his hands, warm not in temperature but in emotion. It is a steady stream of joy, and it almost brings tears to his eyes.

Hogwarts is magnificent. The boat ride across the lake was nostalgic and beautiful, the ghosts in the castle fascinating. He joins the house of black and yellow ("Such loyalty, oh my yes...") like a proper Bones should, and his aunt sends him a book on law enforcement in congratulations. He doesn't read it of course, but he thanks her anyway. Magical law enforcement is too much like the Marines for his tastes, and even if he cannot be a pirate in this life, he will certainly not become a Marine.

There's a crushing despair when he doesn't find his nakama in the school. And he knows they aren't there, because he knows the feel of his crewmates well, knows the shaoe and ebb and flow of their souls.

But he IS older than the rest, so maybe next year.

(Please, please be here next year.)

"If the King loves music, there is little wrong with the land."

Chapter Text

It still tripped him up sometimes, Brook thought. Realizing he was human again, that was. He'd been human for eleven years now and while that may seem long to some, it was appallingly short in comparison to almost a century of semi-death.

He flexed his fleshy human hands in wonder, then picked up his bow and violin, and began to play. The violin had been a gift from two Christmases ago, when aunt Amelia had caught on to his passion for music. Along with the instrument had come lessons as well, which was both good and bad. Good, because he now had an alibi for where he had learned all his songs. Bad, because that meant he had to downplay his ability to the level of a beginner and not the master that he was, although retraining usddenly there muscles was no small task by itself.

The first few notes of music sang sweetly in the morning air and he closed his eyes (eyelids! He had eyelids!) and hummed along. It wasn't the usual way he played Black Handkerchief, loud and obnoxious and chipper, but the first (and only) time he'd tried to play it as such at Hogwarts he'd brought the whole house down on him for waking them all at the ungodly hour of 4 am.

The Hufflepuff common room was warm and bright, for all that it was set in the dungeons. The proximity to the kitchens ensured that it always smelt wonderful too. His stomach rumbled loudly, almost drowning out his quiet sonnet.

Almost a month now had passed since he'd come to Hogwarts. A month of lessons and wonder and excitement. The joyful warmth he felt as he grasped his wand was most soothing in times of loneliness, and yet...

The last note trailed off beautifully, perfectly. His skills had diminished ever so slightly, unused to as he was with new muscles (muscles at all really) and stiff fingers that must be retrained. With a flourish, Brook bowed to his invisible audience, and imagined the sound of his crew, of Luffy, yelling with exuberance. He couldn't dwell on these thoughts though, dared not to, and once more set his bow to the strings.

Charms might be his favourite class of all, Brook thought as he began to play his signature song, and the jaunty tune of Binks' Sake traveled through the Hufflepuff dorms, bringing the students pleasant dreams and pleasant awakenings. Yes, charms was probably the class he enjoyed most, full of colour and delight. Not that he disliked his other classes– potions was interesting and transfiguration was wonderous and even defense had a certain dangerous thrill. Charms however, was like he had always imagined magic to be. Flashy and loud and bright. Just the sort of thing his crewmates would enjoy. Luffy would laugh and Chopper would squeal and Usopp would spin a tale as Nami appraised and Sanji smiled and Franky struck a pose while Zoro feigned sleep and Robin would sit there, quietly, and drink her tea, Jinbei in the background with a warm and inviting presence.

His hand slipped and the violin twanged, sharply and unharmoniously, before carrying on.

He carried on.

Soon enough, his morning routine was finished and his fellow badgers began to rise. Returning to his room, Brook tucked his violin away carefully before beginning to dress. As always, he was one of the earliest ones to enter the Great Hall, beaten only by the most studious Ravenclaws and a few professors. It was a habit he had acquired over the days of coming to the hall early in hopes to maybe spot a crewmate, maybe, possibly, just in case he'd been wrong.

(He hadn't)

The Hall filled quickly with students of all ages and houses, and food appeared on the table. Brook piled as much food as possible on his plate, and ate till his stomach could have burst (Yet he had no stomach! Skull J- ah, wait...) but bemoaned the fact that Sanji could have made it better.

An owl swooped down as he was finishing his meal to deliver a note from Susan. The two wrote each other often, and Susan missed him terribly, fraught though she was with envy that he was learning magic. In exchange he wrote her tales in his letters to keep her amused. Brook had never been much of one for stories, more suited to lyrics and composing, but it was an easy feat to repeat the adventures of the Strawhat crew, and her eagerness to hear more was always gratifying.

Giving the owl a bit of bacon, Brook packed away the letter to reply to later, picking up his bag as the students filled out of the Hall, classes soon to begin.

Though the halls were packed, there was a sudden distinct emptiness around him, and his hand clutched tightly around his wand, drinking in the soothing emotion.

He'd spent eleven years without his nakama now and while that may seem short to some, it is appallingly long when it comes to a yearning heart.

"Time is The King of all men."

Chapter Text

He opens his eyes to magic. Like, literal magic, not the metaphorical kind. And how super was that? SUPER super, that's how. Magic can do amazing things, impossible things, and it makes his fingers twitch and his mental gears whirl madly.

He's still a babe right now, still tiny and chubby and weak, but as soon as he can, he's going to borrow a wand and see what he can do. See how it works and what it does and all the super new things he can discover. Not just the wand either, but this whole world, which is so amazingly different from the Blues, is his to explore.

SUPER.

His new mum is large and happy and almost reminds him of Kokoro in a few ways. Unfortunately, his new dad reminds him of Kokoro in a few other, more unfortunate ways. Mrs. Belby likes to fill the house with flowers and uses strong spices in her cooking, but it's never quite enough to mask the powerful smell of alcohol that is always present around Mr. Belby.

Uncle Damocles is pretty cool though. He's quirky and loopy and extremely erratic, and reminds Franky a bit of himself. "Dad" however doesn't like uncle Damocles, so he doesn't come over much. By the time Franky- er, Marcus- is five years old, uncle Damocles doesn't come over at all anymore and his new da is almost constantly wasted. He's not really angry at him for it of course, but it's a bit unpleasant and it makes his ma sad. He's just lucky that his da is a lazy drunk and not a violent one, really.

"He has his reasons Marcus, leave it alone."

Marcus. Marcus Belby, what a chumpy name. Very un-super. Cutty Flam and then Marcus Belby; he is forever cursed to have horrible names. Franky though, that is a cool name. That's what he'll introduce himself as, just like before. His ma doesn't like it (da is too drunk to ever understand what it is he's even saying) but the name Franky is a special one, from Tom, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

It's odd getting used to being fully human again. Franky hasn't been totally, completely and 100% human since he was twenty-two. He hasn't been even 50% human since thirty-five. And now he's young and human all over again and wow is it WEIRD. But at least he's not as tiny as he was last time though; Marcus Belby was born with a thick, strong frame and his ma makes sure he has some meat on his bones (Cutty Flam was a skinny little thing, too thin and too weak without the steel enforcing).

He doesn't have blue hair anymore either (it's brown) and he has a normal chin with no sharp, jutting points. His body is normal length, normal size and normally coloured and there is no fridge in his stomach.

(Not that he would need it anyway because there is apparently no Cola in this world, for all its magic and wonder, and quite frankly (ha!) Franky thought that was a sin.)

He likes wizard robes a lot, because it means that he still doesn't have to wear pants if he doesn't want to. England is constantly cold and wet and dreary though so he always has to wear shoes. He also has to button up his shirt, can't wear short sleeve all the time and his ma won't let him wear his sunglasses everywhere. Also very un-super.

Dear Mr. Belby,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

His ma has to drag him away from the new racing broom display (he's still trying to figure out how they work) to get him to buy the rest of his things. He gets his books and his supplies, is denied the totally super gold cauldron, and buys the largest and most vicious looking owl he can find. The new screech-owl has wicked sharp talons and a menacing disposition, so Franky very fittingly names him "Sunny" (No one else understands).

Walking into Ollivander's is like walking into a mausoleum, dark and quiet and still as death till some ghost jumps out at you from nowhere. Except it's Ollivander, not a ghost (but really just as scary). Finding his wand seems to take a while, and seems to make Ollivander increasingly excited which in turn only makes him increasingly creepy. He finally leaves the store with his new wand a while later; Spruce and dragon heartstring, 14 and a half inches. ("Has a flair for dramatics, that wand...")

The wand practically vibrates in his palm, seemingly sharing his own jubilation at finally being able to experiment. It chose him with a colourful shower of sparks and a loud bang, and Franky knows this wand is definitely suited to him.

King's Cross is breathtakingly beautiful for perhaps all the wrong reasons. Trains, gleaming and glorious streamlined trains, dozens of them all around him. It's amazing. The Hogwarts Express though is by far the best. Glossy red, well-kept, well made— if he starts crying, well that's just because he'll miss his ma, okay?

He's not very impressed with the rickety little rowboats that take them to the castle, but it's nice to get out on the water again, even if only for a few minutes.

The group of children to be sorted is a small to be sure, no more than twenty kids in all. The lady with a pinched face, McGregorall or something, lines them up alphabetically so Franky gets placed second in line, right at the front.

He's sorted into Ravenclaw ("What an inquisitive mind you have...") and is one of the first to sit down, and so gets to watch the rest of the first years be sorted. A few others join his house, including the Chang girl right after him, but it's not really all that exciting. He's staring at the ceiling, mind drifting, when the Professor's voice cuts through his haze like a knife.

"Roronoa, Zoro!"

"He that can work is born to be king of something."

Chapter Text

In her previous (and only other) life, Nico Robin had spent quite a lot of her life keeping secrets and laying low, so it's no great hardship doing so once more. It is different this time though, because of many reasons she would never have anticipated.

For one, she is no longer Nico Robin exactly. She is now Cho Chang, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Chang, not even a decade old and a witch in training.

A witch. Magic, wizards, creatures, whole worlds and cultures hidden away...

How intriguing.

It's a bit strange to get used to in the beginning, but not because of the broomsticks or the cauldrons or the wands. No, but rather because after spending so many years of her life wishing for it, Robin now has two devoted parents who deeply love and care about her... and she has no idea what to do with them.

The Strawhats had become her true family in every single way but blood, and they always would be, but having parents is a different matter all together. She's never had parents before. What does one even do with parents? How should she treat them, talk to them, touch them?

Robin knows virtually nothing about parents, having them and holding them and loving them even, but, perhaps... perhaps she might be able to learn. Learn how to love, and be loved.

(and she knows her crew would support her endeavor every step of the way)

There are no words to describes how proud the Chang family is of their young daughter. A genius, a prodigy, intelligent beyond her years and outstripping all her peers. A Ravenclaw for certain.

Smart, quiet, polite, and lovely to boot, Cho was surely the perfect child, barely childlike at all and more like a mature woman masked by a child's face.

They worry, however, because they know something is not quite right with their daughter. Too calm, too mature, too understanding... Terrors in the middle of the night, never coming to her parents for help... A paralyzing fear of the water, yet a fierce desire to learn to swim...

The Chang family, ever so deeply proud of their lovely daughter, ever so deeply worried for their eccentric daughter. But Cho is not the only who knows how to hide uncertainties behind a calm mask.

Hogwarts would be the most likely place to find her crew, that she knew. She'd known it for many a year even, though that had never really stopped her from hoping to meet anyone earlier, nor had it stopped her from worrying about the tremendous age gaps from their previous life. The... Old Man, whoever he'd been, had promised to keep them all together, but "together" can mean many different things to many different people. And he'd never specified when either.

So she worries and she thinks and she plots, placing her hopes on the future in Hogwarts. That doesn't mean she does nothing in the meantime however, oh no. Once a spy, always a spy really. Because the fact remained that they had been given a task they must complete. So Robin waits, and Robin listens, and Robin collects information just as she was always so want to do.

Because when the time comes to fight this "Lord Voldemort", her crew will be ready.

Dear Miss Chang,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Diagon Alley is full of wonder and magic for sure, but more importantly full of people and gossip and information. Robin gleans a fair amount of news from the conversations around her as she accompanies her parents in supply shopping, but nothing truly relevant (so far). She'd probably get more pertinent news from Knockturn and its inhabitants, but she won't be able to slip her parents' watch today.

Olivander is... well. Interesting for sure. Intriguing, yes, ingenious probably. Funny in the head? Most definitely. No truly sane man would beam joyfully at some random girl decimating half his shop by accident. They find her wand eventually, 11 whole inches of elm and phoenix feather ("Elegance and sophistication...") and as she cradles it in her hands, Robin is struck by an overwhelming sense of belonging, the likes she hasn't felt since she last saw her crewmates eleven years ago.

The wand chooses the wizard indeed...

Trains have never been her favored method of transportation, but the journey is pleasant enough. The tiny rowboats on the other hand are highly disappointing, but then, even the queen's own barge would look shabby in comparison to the splendor that Sunny (and Merry) had been.

The line of first years stand before the hat (a singing hat, really?) and the sorting commences. Ackerman, Belby, then Chang. She is made a Ravenclaw of course, ("Such a passion for knowledge...") as everyone knew would happen, and she joins the table of the ravens, sitting to the right of the Belby boy. The rest of the sorting is mundane at best, though thankfully progressing quickly, as most of the children were sorted into the houses she had guessed they would be. Which is perhaps why it's so shocking when the next name is called out– to think, she hadn't noticed at all...

"Roronoa, Zoro!"

"War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at."

Chapter Text

"Roronoa, Zoro!"

It is a sullen scowling little child with spiky black hair who stomps up to the stool and stares disdainfully at the hat as if he expected it to have fleas. At the Ravenclaw table, two new first years wait with bated breath and in Hufflepuff, a second year holds the bench with white knuckles.

The night-shift nurse scowled disapprovingly as she scooped the baby up from the hospital step, cradling him close to her chest. Pulling back the blankets a bit, her scowl only deepened further. Not only do they abandon the child, but they had the audacity to die his hair first?! A crinkle; the nurse pulled out a piece of paper from the blanket folds, and on it was written only his name.

Months later, when the green colour failed to fade and roots continued to grow like grass, the nurse sighed and gave him a sad look. Most abandoned babies were adopted straight away, into the loving arms of adoptive parents. This one though... No one wanted defective children. No, this one would have to suffer the pain of cramped foster homes, too many children in too little space and not enough love to go around.

Oblivious to the nurse's grim musings, baby Zoro slept on.

Zoro is permanently placed into foster care, along with seven other children all older than him by years, at the ripe old age of two months. The house mother is always busy with these seven other children, from bad homes and with bad pasts, so baby Zoro never gets the proper amount of attention or care that he rightfully should as a two month old child. That's alright with him though really.

It's after the third complaint from the school when Zoro is five years old that the house mother decides that it's time to do something about his hair. It makes him stand out, and not in an entirely good way. The adults disapprove, the teachers are scandalized and the other children's reactions are mixed. Those who aren't driven away by the bright green colour are attracted to it and intrigued, but are then swiftly chased away by his sour disposition and tendency to completely ignore the world around him. Needless to say, he doesn't have many friends. His fists have made sure that he doesn't have any bullies either though.

Teachers, however, are a problem he can't fix with his fists or even a sword if he had one. Which is why next Monday, he arrives to class with pitch-black hair and an even blacker mood.

Zoro really doesn't like this new world. At all. Not because he was an orphan again, not because he had no friends, not because he had to go to school everyday and be forced to learn things, and not even because he wasn't allowed to fight people to sort out all his problems.

No, Zoro disliked this world so intensely because it was damn nigh impossible to get your hands on a sword— a real sword too, not those flimsy plastic and wooden ones.

Of course, being separated from his nakama didn't make it any better.

Sometimes (and only sometimes, dammit) Zoro really missed his crew. When the 'family' is eating no name vegetable soup, thin and metallic tasting, for the fifth time that week, Zoro feels a sudden intense longing for cigarette smoke and good food.

When he's down in bed with a horrible flu, Zoro wishes he could see brown and pink and a tiny bit of blue because he wouldn't have been sick in the first place if he had been here.

And sometimes when he's bored and not lonely, definitely not lonely, he wishes he could hear a fantastical tale or see a cool invention or get harassed to play tag or have his debt raised or listen to a song or... or maybe just...

But he's not lonely. He's fine.

He's on push-up one hundred and seven (and every movement suddenly seems so much harder, so much slower in this world) missing the smell of steel and the rock of the boat and the sound of laughter (okay so he misses them a bit) when someone calls his name.

Downstairs, an old lady with a stern expression and a tartan dress waits for him. The house mother says he's won a scholarship, which makes absolutely no sense, but whatever. Later, the strange woman takes him aside and hands him a letter.

Dear Mr. Roronoa,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

The lady then explains magic and wizardry and... well. She tells him the date that she'll pick him up to go shopping with the other 'muggle-borns' and then leaves.

He's not excited that night, when he can't sleep, can't sit still, can't stop grinning.

Just restless.

Diagon Alley is, well, magic. He's never seen anything like it, not even with Devil Fruits and Haki and everything else. It's... not bad. Still no swords though.

But really, riding broomsticks?

Stern-witch-lady gives him his wizarding allowance along with the rest of the muggle-borns (he still doesn't know what a muggle is) and tells them to spend it wisely. She takes them through a tour of them shops so they can get their supplies and other requirements. He doesn't buy an animal, (owls, really?) first years aren't allowed broomsticks (not that he would want one) and he doesn't like reading or cooking, so no extra books or potion supplies.

By the time the group heads to the wand shop, Zoro has only bought the barest minimum and tartan lady has given him a couple concerned looks. But hey, being constantly indebted to your crewmate makes penny-pinching an ingrained habit.

Receiving his wand takes ages longer than the rest of the group and Ollivander's mood rises with the amount of damage done to his store. Thirty-seven wands later, a whisper runs through his body as he grasps the handle and for a moment Zoro feels the breath of all things once more.

Blackthorn and dragon heartstring, 9 1/2 inches and apparently very unusual ("Strong and loyal, a warrior's wand...") and the shopping is finally done.

And hey, some coins left over for when Nami inevitably starts charging him.

There's only two weeks between the shopping trip and the day he's set to board the train, but somehow it feels longer than the whole eleven years that had just passed, longer than the two years spent stranded on Kuraigana. He can breathe again, has opened his senses to the soft rise and fall of all things as they exist in the world, but he still feels so unnervingly alone, cut off from the entire world (from his entire world).

Finding the platform is an actual nightmare (through a wall?!) and he makes it to the train with minutes to spare after circling the whole station three times and garnering quite a bit of suspicion. The train gleams a deep, dark red, and while it is no Puffing Tom, Zoro allows him self to admire it for just a moment.

He grabs a room near the back of the train, curls up on the seat and takes a nap. Or rather, he tries to take a nap but can't, because there is something fluttering at the edges of his senses, familiar-but-not. It's too faint to focus on, just out of his reach but still obnoxious enough that he can't fall asleep. Arriving at Hogwarts in a relief, if only because it gives him something to focus on other than the whispering feeling that won't leave him alone.

The rickety little boats that pull them across the Great Lake are pathetic and tiny, but they remind him of his first days as part of Luffy's crew, sailing along aimlessly in a leaky little dinghy. Everyone clambers out of the boat, and Hagrid (I wonder if he's a giant?) brings them inside, handing them off to the very same woman that had taken he and the other muggle-borns shopping. Then they are lining up, and the enormous set of doors leading to the Great Hall creak open to expose the splendor.

He almost doesn't notice it when the tartan lady calls his name, staring at the shifting ceiling and the floating lights .

"Roronoa, Zoro!"

It is a sullen scowling little child with spiky black hair who stomps up to the stool and stares disdainfully at the hat as if he expected it to have fleas. At the Ravenclaw table, two new first years wait with bated breath and in Hufflepuff, a second year holds the bench with white knuckles.

"... Hufflepuff!"

At the Hufflepuff table ("Hardworking indeed!") Zoro raises a brow as a boy further down waves at him enthusiastically, with a wide and toothy, almost familiar grin. Forehead creasing, he tries to focusing on sensing the world. He had always been more adept at using Busoshoku haki to make armour than Kenbunshoku haki to sense the world, and he was unused to doing it in this new body, but...

A breeze rolls through him and Zoro's eyes fly wide as a feeling of familyfriendshipnakamaloveloyalty blows through him. Then he turns his head to stare across the hall as he feels it two more presences. From the Ravenclaw table, two dark heads of hair stare at him intently.

To know nor faith, nor love, nor law, to be  Omnipotent but friendless, is to reign.

Chapter Text

“Hufflepuff!”

Franky watched as the little black-haired boy stumbled off the stool and down the steps towards the Hufflepuff house table, still wearing the dark scowl was sure to become signature. McGonagall called out the next name on the list, but Franky paid her no mind, eyes boring into Zoro from across the hall, as if he could make the other boy notice him from sheer willpower alone.

And maybe it even worked, in some strange, magical way, because after taking a seat on the Hufflepuff bench with the other first years, Zoro stared off to the side, hard, and then paused before turning his head abruptly to meet Franky’s eyes.  A smile split across Franky’s face before he could even begin to think of stopping it (not that he would!) and he gave Zoro two thumbs up from across the hall. The newly minted Hufflepuff grinned at him (sharply, because everything Zoro did was sharp, edged like his blades) before his eyes flicked to the side, and he nodded. Franky stiffened.

He turned to the girl beside him. Could she be...?

“Hey, Hey! The name’s Belby, but call me Franky!” He flashed the girl his most SUPER smile, and then threw in a wink just to be sure. “What’s your name, sister?”

And the girl beside him replied, in the most beautiful and melodious voice, a voice both intimately familiar and newly strange– a voice he could never forget, no matter how many lifetimes or reincarnations apart. “I have been graced with the name Cho Chang in this lifetime, if it pleases you to know.” And then she laughed, that beautiful and achingly familiar laugh that tugged at his heartstrings and made him want to cry—

and then she winked back.

Two tables away, on the other side of the Great Hall, Zoro watched as Robin reduced Franky to tears, using less than twenty words. It was both nostalgic and refreshing, and he smiled at Robin again before a scuffle to the side stole his attention.

The boy from before, the older one who had waved, plopped himself down on the bench to his left, and grinned a familiar toothy grin. Zoro didn’t waste any time on introductions.

“Brook, you skinny bastard, I’d recognize that hair anywhere.” The first year sitting across from Zoro choked on his drink, goggling the two of them before quickly looking away with a blush.

“Ah, Zoro my friend,” Brooke began, pushing the glasses up on his nose with one hand as he reached for the ladle of mashed potatoes with the other, “you have no idea how it gladdens my heart to see you and our two companions grace these halls at last.” His voice is soft as he speaks, and when he looks to the side and catches Zoro’s eyes, his smile is even softer.

He was silent for a moment, then hummed  in reply and took a swig of the orange drink that had filled his cup– pumpkin juice apparently– and gagged on it. Beside him Brook snorted and Zoro elbowed him none too gently.

Blue Seas, what he wouldn’t give for some kind of alcohol right now…

The universe didn’t exactly answer his pleas, but the house elves of Hogwarts sensed his displeasure, and the goblet full of pumpkin juice suddenly disappeared, replaced by a small brown bottle. Zoro eyed it distrustfully for a moment before shrugging  and grabbing it. Butterbeer ,the label said, and it was an apt description for a drink that tasted like buttercream and yeast. It wasn’t ale, not by a long shot, but it was better than the funky juice, so Zoro kept drinking it.

The food, while it wasn’t, say, Sanji-level cooking, was probably the best thing he had tasted in this lifetime, and he dug into his meal with relish. Something wouldn’t stop bothering him however, and a few minutes into the meal he nudged the boy to his left. “Hey, Brook…” Zoro started to speak, and then paused. If Franky, Robin, and Brook were here, then that meant almost all the older members of the Strawhat crew were here.

Except for…

“Do you know if Jinbei’s here? I couldn’t sense him…”

Zoro knew that his Kenbunshoku skills weren’t the best, that he could have missed Jinbei amongst all the confusion and noise in the Great Hall, but one look at Brook’s expression told him everything he needed to know.

“Ah, unfortunately my young friend, this is the first encounter that I’ve had in twelve years!” Brook replied in a cheerful tone, belaying none of the things he felt.

The feast ended in a song, to Zoro’s surprise. It was a cacophonous noise, nobody singing in time or in tune with each other. Beside him, Brooke sang the school song to the tune of Binks’ Sake (to Zoro’s unsurprise).

The beds in the Hufflepuff dorm were softer than anything Zoro had felt in this lifetime (tonight was a night of firsts it seemed) and he had absolutely no problem falling asleep that night, surrounded as he might be by strangers in a strange place. No, if anything , he thought, the problem was going to be waking up—

—until an annoyingly cheerful violin solo shattered through his sleep at ass-o’clock in the morning, quickly followed by a loud BANG (“— BONES YOU BLOODY BRAT—“) and a shriek as the jaunty morning wake up call (“—FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING—“) ended in an awkward squawk, song cut off.

Zoro grinned sleepily into his pillow.

(It was good to back.)

A shrill, beeping alarm went off a couple hours later, at a more respectable time of morning, and the first years Hufflepuffs began to rise for the morning’s classes. Zoro debated sleeping in a little longer but decided not to risk it on the very first day. He woke slowly and took his time as he gathered his clothes from the trunk at the foot of the bed and changed.

The boy who had sat across from him at the feast last night paused on his way out of the dorm, just the two of them left. “Hey, I… wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Cedric Diggory. Sorry for uhm, staring last night.” He apologized sheepishly, extending a hand for Zoro to shake.

Zoro levelled the blond boy with a stare and finished buttoning his shirt before clasping his hand in a quick shake. “Zoro. Roronoa.” He replied tersely. Cedric , however, seemed unshaken by his gruff demeanor, and became even more enthused, if anything, grinning brightly.

“Fantastic!” He said, for no apparent reason, and then pulled open the dormitory door. “Walk with me to breakfast? I’m not sure I remember the way.”

Zoro paused, appraising him for a moment before nodding slowly. If the offer had been from one of his crewmates he would have known for sure that they were mocking his sense of direction, but this boy had no possible way of knowing about his, ah, mishaps. He walked halfway across the room to accompany Diggory before turning back to grab the wand he had forgotten on the nightstand.

Cedric really didn’t remember the way back to the Great Hall, and what had been a five minute walk the previous night turned into a fifteen minute wander through the main level of Hogwarts before they finally stumbled on the Great Hall. Zoro had only just taken a seat, Brooke to his right and Diggory to his left, when the matronly witch who had introduced herself as “Professor Sprout” last night, in the common room to the newest bunch of Hufflepuff students, came bustling up with a few towering stacks of schedules levitating in the air behind her. With a  flick of her wand, the majority of them went soaring down the table, landing in front of their designated student, and less than ten remained with her. These belonged to the first years, and with each one she handed out Professor Sprout gave kindly words of encouragement.

Zoro slipped his schedule under his plate as soon as he got it, more focused the full course breakfast presented before him. On the left, Diggory munched on a piece of toast as he looked over his own schedule.  “Charms first thing, then Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic before we break for lunch.” He mused through a mouthful of crumbs. “I wonder what house each class is with…”

Charms, it turned out, was with the Slytherins. What ever part of him that had been excited about learning magic was quickly smothered as Zoro learned from the tiny Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, that the first week of classes would comprise mostly of theory. Only after they had successfully demonstrated a basic understanding of each charm in biweekly quizzes would they be allowed to attempt to perform the spell in class, under supervision. It still rankled him a little, being treated like a child,  but after eleven years of it the emotion was easy to push away. This week they would be learning about the colour charm, taking a quiz on Friday and attempting the spell next Monday.

Then the class was over, and students were packing up their quills and notes in a flurry of paper, stuffing them in their bags haphazardly in a rush to exit the classroom. Zoro was one of such students, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he left the room with Diggory at his side. “What’s next?” He asked the boy, his own schedule buried somewhere in the mess of papers at his side.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” He replied before stowing his own timetable away, “with Professor Palmer.”

Defense Against the Dark Arts (simply called Defense or DADA) was significant not because of Professor Palmer, who Zoro would later come to learn was a large blustery man wearing and equally large pearl necklace. No, Defense was significant because it was with the Ravenclaws, Zoro realized as he entered the classroom and felt Franky and Robin’s presences wash over him. The class was split half, Ravenclaws seated on one side and Hufflepuffs on the other, and Zoro threw his nakama a longing stare before accompanying Diggory to a pair of seats near the front.

Professor Palmer entered the class with enormous pomp, door blowing wide open as he strode in, paused, and looked down his nose at the students before him. There was a familiar arrogance to him, Zoro thought, tuning out the words he was surely supposed to be listening to in childlike awe. The class went by in a forgettable blur, hard as Palmer seemed to try to be memorable, with grand gestures and even greater self-aggrandizing words. Before he knew it, the class was over, and the only thing he was able to glean from the forty-five minutes elapsed was that next class they would be learning the difference between jinxes and curses.

Fantastic.

Zoro hastily shoved all his materials back into his bag, no doubt crumpling his notes even further than they had been already and hastened to meet the two presences he could feel waiting for him near the door. Beside him, Cedric paused mid sentence when he realized Zoro wasn’t listening to him at all.

“Wha- Hey, wait up!”

Just outside the doorway arch of the classroom stood two little Ravenclaw first years, waiting for him with barely contained excitement. As soon as Zoro passed the archway, the boy– Franky– threw himself at Zoro, hanging on him like a limpet as he began to sob. 

“Zoro-bro! I missed you, dammit!”

Over the sobbing boy’s shoulder, Zoro met eyes with Robin, or the little girl that Robin had become, and she smiled. Diggory, who had finally caught up, looked between Zoro and the two Ravenclaws with trepidation. “Friends of yours, Roronoa?” He asked, tongue stumbling slightly over Zoro’s last name.

When Zoro nodded, patting Franky absently on the shoulder, Diggory paused, and then came to some sort of silent conclusion that had him squaring his shoulders with determination. He told Zoro that he’d seem him in History of Magic later, turned away, and left.

Franky pulled back, theatrics over for the time being— or at least until Zoro asked “Have you guys seen Brook yet?”

“What?! Is he here?!” Franky shouted, and behind him Robin’s face lit up with delight at the thought of another nakama reunited. Zoro frowned at the man– or boy now, rather– and asked “What, can’t you feel him?”

Both Franky and Robin stared at him then, awkwardly, before Zoro realized that neither of them had ever used any kind of Haki to his knowledge in the past life, not to mention Kenbunshoku. “Right, right, okay, nevermind.” He said, shaking his head. “Yeah Brook’s here, he’s a Hufflepuff too. Second Year.”

Franky made a satisfied sound. “Good, good! This way neither of us are alone, see!” He turned back to grin at Robin, and she stepped forward to stand beside him as Franky continued, “You two in Hufflepuff, and Cho an’ me in Ravenclaw.” He finished, with a cheerful thumbs up.

Zoro stalled then, blinking, before he asked, “Cho?”

“Ah, of course,” Robin replied with a sudden realization. “You were able to keep your name, after all. We were not.” And yeah, Zoro realized with a start, there hadn’t been any “Nico, Robin” or “Franky” or any type called out during the sorting ceremony. “What are you guys called then?” He asked.

“This one is called Cho Chang.” She said, smiling at him beatifically. Beside her Franky puffed out his chest in a posture very similar to one from another life, “Belby, if you have to, but just call me Franky!” He exclaimed.

(Re)Introductions through, Robin offered to lead Zoro to the History of Magic classroom, which he grudgingly accepted, as he had never been there before. They caught up on the brief walk there, Zoro lamenting over the lack of swords and Franky over the lack of Cola before Zoro bemusedly informed him that Cola did in fact exist, but it was a muggle invention only apparently. They reached the History of Magic classroom just in time for others to witness Franky bemoan the fact that there was Cola out there right now and he couldn’t get to it.

Robin— or Cho now, rather— bid him goodbye outside the classroom, because apparently Hufflepuffs don’t have History with the Ravenclaws, and he’s turning around to enter the class when a call from Franky makes him stop.

“Ah, Zoro wait!” Franky called, and Zoro turned back to face him. “There’s not… Nobody else is here, are they?” And Zoro knew what he meant because if Brook was here and they were here and Zoro was then shouldn’t… shouldn’t Jinbei be… But he’s not, at least as far as he and Brook could tell, and it throws the theory of the oldest members of the crew returning first out of wack. He could see the ideas and theories bubbling under the surface of Robin’s dark blue eyes, but there would be time to discuss such things later. Now there was class, and the two Ravenclaws said their good byes again as Zoro entered History of Magic.

“When being in a relationship with a great man focus on being an asset to your king and not a liability.”