Chapter Text
I
The dirt was wet beneath his fingers. Not yet mud, but the drops of blood falling from his mouth threatened to change its state that much quicker. Could it really be considered a different state of matter if it simply mixed with something else?
He raised his head again, his hands trembling below him. The clinking of the gun above him - resting heavy in Dazai’s hands, his bandaged fingers curling around it like a noose - as it’s shoved back in his pockets. The clinking of his shoes on the concrete as he turned and walked away. Akutagawa stumbled to his feet, his legs unsteady and shaky, but at least they hadn’t been shot. He follows after, a limp in his step as he tries to ignore the stares of the other mafia agents around them. It was another failed mission, after all. Akutagawa could feel a mixture of hate and admiration swirling in his gut, a feeling that was all too familiar. The burning of shame seemed to loom over the two conflicting feelings, hanging over his head, its nails digging into his shoulders and leaving little crescent-shaped cuts. Not strong enough to draw blood, but they would be soon.
Dazai’s phone rang. An obnoxious beeping that startled Akutagawa enough for him to pause in his tracks before following Dazai to the Mafia car awaiting them outside the all-too-empty and all-too-full warehouse. It felt like his laboured breathing echoed off the metal walls. Dazai pulled the phone out of the pocket opposite the one the gun was resting in, flipped it open, and answered the call, though not without a look of distaste at the caller ID. Silence as he held the phone to his ear, now fully stopped in front of Akutagawa, who stood a bit to his left, opposite the side the phone was on.
“...That’s ridiculous, Mori.” Akutagawa could practically hear the scoff in Dazai’s voice. He was still clutching his wrist, massaging the tender flesh there from when Dazai had grabbed it and all but broken it, looking up at Dazai with his nearly lightless black eyes, always wide and staring and ever-present, the same ones Dazai has.
When Dazai started moving, Akutagawa followed after him like a stray dog following a stranger that took a second out of their eighty-six thousand a day to pet it.
II
Mori’s office is cold and damp, and somehow seems so very confined despite the floor-to-ceiling windows. Mori slips the light yellow folder across the table to Akutagawa, who picks it up with apprehension. Unsurprisingly, this was his first time getting something like this for a mission - usually, he just got a time, place, and a vague description of the targets - and they all ended in death. He held it in his hands for a second before opening it, Mori’s staring eyes ever-present.
“It’s an infiltration mission, Akutagawa. A lengthy one, at that - please know that you are the best choice for this, no matter what it seems.” Mori’s smile tore across his face, the same one Dazai wore like a mask.
“Sir, I-”
“Akutagawa, I would appreciate it if you didn’t question my methods.” Akutagawa faltered, nodded, and looked down at the roughly textured papers in his still shaky hands, adorned with paragraphs of writing. With the exception of a few selectively placed photos, it was all just information.
“...How long do I have? Before the mission starts?” Scotland . It’s in Scotland, of all places. Akutagawa didn’t know English, and he truly didn’t understand Mori’s thought process.
“Two weeks. Spend it wisely, Akutagawa, and go over that information as often as you can. Please note that everything written there is true .”
Akutagawa nodded, slipping the folder closed, not daring to look at anything past the text reading out the location. He doesn’t know what could be there that makes him think Mori would lie to him about a mission, but he nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”
III
MISSION BRIEF
Mission Code: Kindai Suru
Operative(s) Assigned: Nakahara Chuuya , Akutagawa Ryuunosuke .
Overseeing Officer: Dazai Osamu .
Mission Start Date: ##/##/####.
Mission Deadline: TBD.
Clearance Level: High.
OBJECTIVE
Primary Goal: Collect information at Hogwarts: SWW 1 and provoke tension in the Magical community.
Secondary Objectives: Disassociate ability users from Magic users and discourage connections between the Port Mafia and Magical groups.
Allies/Useful Contacts: Chuuya Nakahara , stationed in the Ministry of Magic under the name Martin Morin . Keep active contact. | Severus Snape , who works as a double agent for the Death Eaters 2 and Order of the Pheonix 3 . Do not interact directly, though he may be a useful resource in the future.
Hostiles/Threats: Albus Dumbledore , the headmaster of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Highly intelligent, it's imperative to the mission to stay on his good side. | Severus Snape , for reasons previously mentioned. | Sybill Trelawney , a talented fortune-teller and professor at Hogwarts. She may catch onto operatives quickly because of her talents.
COVERT IDENTITY
Alias: Mori Ryuuno | Child of Mori Ougai , who owns a wealthy medical site in Yokohama, Japan with connections to Magical medicine under the name ‘Mori Corporations’.
Cover Story: Mori Ougai has made considerable donations to Hogwarts: SWW while they’ve been under scrutiny during the Chamber of Secrets 4 Incident. In return, they’ve agreed to allow the transfer of his only child, Mori Ryuuno , into Hogwarts: SWW under the 3rd year curriculum.
Fake Credentials: See Page 5.
MISSION PARAMETERS
Location(s): Hogwarts: SWW.
Operational Method: Infiltration & Surveillance.
Expected Resistance: Expect little to no hostile encounters unless classified information that is reason for conflict is disclosed or orders to engage in conflict are given.
Contingency Plans: Flee grounds with as little conflict as possible and return to the closest Port Mafia base. Inform Dazai Osamu , overseeing officer, of the situation as soon as possible.
SUPPLIED EQUIPMENT & RESOURCES
Weapons: 2 handguns, easily accessible. Only if absolutely necessary, ability is permitted for use.
Tech/Tools: 10 cameras provided: 2 in each common room (8 used), 1 in the staff lounge in the center of the school, and 1 placed in Albus Dumbledore ’s office if able. | 1 laptop, Port Mafia managed, with access to camera feeds and communications. | 1 PM-issued burner phone for communications; do not add unofficial contacts nor answer unidentified calls or messages. | 12 locks of Dazai Osamu ’s hair, to be attached to any PM technology that would not otherwise work in Hogwarts: SWW. …
Past that opening page, the files were loads upon loads of information on this ‘magical’ community it was referring to. Akutagawa had never heard of such a thing, something so ridiculous that it sounded like it was out of a children’s novel with too much lore for its own good.
The apartment he lived in with Gin was cold and dark, water dripping on the windows from the rain outside. He shivered as he scanned the papers, and he could feel that autumn was about to rear its moderately beautiful head soon. He’s decided prematurely that he didn’t enjoy this mission. That wasn’t rare; Akutagawa still couldn’t forgive himself for the people he’s killed under the Port Mafia’s name, but it felt different this time. He was always under Dazai’s orders, Dazai always showed up to the scene afterwards to give him the appropriate punishment if he failed - he could feel the tingling of his nerves, the anxious ones, as he let the thought slip in that he’d be away from Dazai for over a year.
It hadn’t been long since he’d met the teen, but there was already that parasitic relationship forming, with Akutagawa’s unhealthy attachment and Dazai’s strange manipulation.
The apartment door clicked open, Gin’s boots tapping against the poorly installed wood flooring (the kind that had just had carpet ripped off, and hadn’t been bothered to be cleaned) as she entered. “Gin. How was your day?” he muttered, glancing up and watching her struggle to pull off the mud- and rain-soaked combat boots she wore for mafia work. She smiled at him, grunting. She set the shoes next to the door and went to sit down beside him.
“Fine. More smugglers…” She sighed. “There’s been a real problem with them lately, have you noticed?”
“I haven’t.” Akutagawa folds his left arm over the papers in his lap. “I guess you deal with them more often than I, though.”
“Yeah…” She hummed. “Your hand’s bleeding.”
He looks down. It is. A scrape on the inside of his palm, from a stray piece of glass, or maybe from Dazai, during his mission that day.
“Ah.” He poked at the cut, noticing the sting. “Do we have bandages?”
“Yeah, we do.” Gin stood up, shrugged her coat off her shoulders and slung it across the table. Their first-aid was usually in a choice drawer in the kitchen; it was closer to the door in case one of them needs fast attention. Besides, neither of them liked the sterile feel of the bathroom, just as undecorated and bare as the rest of the flat, but with gleaming white tiles surrounding them.
“...Gin?” He adjusted his position slightly, the fabric around him rustling. He pressed into the cut a bit more, watching more blood spring up at the edges.
“Yeah?” He can hear her scrambling through the drawer.
“I-...” He cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and continues. “I got a new mission today-”
“That’s great!” Gin is beautiful, and sweet, and he’d do anything for her. She’s everything he could ask for. He sought after Dazai’s approval, he claimed it was his reason to live. Gin might have been just as worthy of that position. “What is it? Nothing too bad, right?”
“It’s a year long.” He saw the pause, the slight widening of her eyes, the slight gleam of disappointment in them, before he saw her soft smile reammerge from the frown that had appeared. “But - it shouldn’t be too bad. I can call you.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” She sits down next to him again, her voice nervous and unsure. She takes the roll of bandages and starts to wrap them around the palm of his hand, the blood soaking into the gauze quickly. That slight sting of pressure again.
“Mhm.” He watches her rip the bandages once the ‘wound’ is adequately wrapped, the blood still soaking through the first few layers. She starts to stand, and Ryuunosuke grabs at her wrist with the bandaged hand. Pressure.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, averting his gaze to the floor, the way he always did when he said something like that - something he wasn’t sure he meant. “I just-... I can’t say no to Mori.”
“I know.” She smiles at him, sad and small. “I get it, don’t worry.”
He tries to smile back at her, but it falters. He never was very good at putting up a mask.
IV
Quick tapping on his door, the impatient kind that reads the person doesn’t want to be there . Akutagawa doesn’t want to, either, if it’s any consolation to the professor he knows is behind that door. He stands up, glancing over his apartment for the last time in God-knows-how-long. His suitcases sat next to the door - the ones he bought specifically for this mission. One of the only personal items the siblings had in their flat, with the exception of clothes, food, and soap.
He gripped the doorknob. He took a deep breath. He twisted the door open, looking up at the man - wizard? - in front of him. He was taller than Akutagawa, nearly two heads. He looked like Mori, if Mori was older and wasn’t quite as gross as he was. The man looked down at him, so very clearly annoyed. He spoke English, too, which wasn’t all that surprising. Akutagawa nodded absentmindedly at something he said, before realizing it was a question.
He blinked. The man sighed, exasperated, and pulled out a wooden stick with fancy silver engravings on the handle, what Akutagawa assumed was a ‘wand’, and cast a quick spell in English with the wand’s point to Akutagawa’s throat. He won’t say it didn’t make him suspicious of the man. He rubbed at the space between his eyes and slipped the wand back into his coat pocket.
“Can you understand me now, kid?” Akutagawa nodded at his rough voice, raspy with annoyance and distaste. “Good. Grab your stuff.”
Akutagawa picked up the two suitcases and tucked them under his arms. Akutagawa shut the door behind him with his heel, not bothering to lock it. Anybody willing to try and steal from Port Mafia-owned apartments was asking to bite the curb and be shot thrice. He ignores the questioning glance sent his way and stands beside the man - the professor?
A hand rests on his shoulder, and it takes all of Akutagawa’s strength not to flinch away and cut the man into tiny pieces with Rashoumon. “I’m going to apparate us. This… might feel strange. Expect to get a bit dizzy.”
The world spins. He closes his eyes tightly, hears a sharp snap, like a twig under boots, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re in a dimly lit bar with old classical music playing. He glares at the man, even if he did warn him - it was still rather unexpected. Akutagawa notes, with a certain bitterness, that if he just said teleport he wouldn’t be so off-kilter.
“This is the Leaky Cauldron. You would be staying here until the school year starts, except the Headmaster wanted to see you beforehand.” Akutagawa listened, noting in his mind that the bar reminded him of Lupin’s Bar, the one Dazai would lurk around with Sakunosuke and Ango. Akutagawa only cared for the pair through the jealousy he felt when Dazai mentioned the two men. Akutagawa only knew what the bar looked like because Dazai insisted he come with once. He learned he didn’t much care for whiskey that night. “We’re getting your things for Hogwarts today. Books and robes and the like. It’d be appreciated if you behave and let this go by as fast as possible.”
Akutagawa followed the professor as he walked towards the back door of the bar, not fully sure where they were going or what they were doing, but following along just the same. They stood face to face with a brick wall, and he said, “This leads to Diagon Alley.” Akutagawa wondered for a moment if he was schizophrenic. That is, until he tapped the bricks in a very specific order (that Akutagawa would not have been able to memorize) and they opened to reveal a small shopping district.
Despite the size (or lack thereof), there seemed to be hundreds of people crammed into the tiny space, like fish in a net. Akutagawa had learned within the first five minutes of being outside Japan that he did not like Europe. It was so loud, so much more crowded and active than the streets of Japan were at night, when the Port Mafia operated. The man took note of Akutagawa’s unpleasant expression, returning it with one of his own as he led him down the street and to what looked to be a bank; the old kind, with fancy architecture. Not like the sleek buildings in Yokohama.
There were shops along the street, all pushed together, and they all had a shocking lack of any kind of modern technology. Not like the PM’s buildings, with their constant humming of electricity. The bank that stood in the center of the street, facing towards the pair, looked like a feat of architecture to stay up, the pillars tilting and off-center. Akutagawa glared up at it with suspicion.
“We’re here to exchange money - I doubt you have the right currency.” The professor - Akutagawa would be overjoyed if he introduced himself at some point - said, walking up the steps. Akutagawa followed behind. “We’ll need to get you fitted for robes, as well.”
“...Expect this to take a while.”
V
Chuuya could already feel the annoyance at this mission setting in as he ran his fingers through his combed-back hair. It definitely wasn’t his usual style, he noted, carefully adjusting strands of hair in the bathroom mirror. Chuuya had never considered himself much of a ‘slicked-back hair, fine-pressed suit’ guy, and his opinion wasn’t changing now that he had those things. The Ministry of Magic was, to say the very least, a headache, and this job is the kind of mission that isn’t the simple ‘solve this problem’ strategy he’s used to.
Throughout the long day, he’d gotten several ‘warm’ welcomes from ministry workers, all dull smiles and unenthusiasm in their eyes. One man, a ginger (his hair was less blonde than Chuuya’s, and much more vibrant) had introduced himself as Arthur Weasely, and the ‘Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts’. Chuuya assumed he meant guns and bullets and that sort of thing, but he wasn’t completely sure; the magical community had a strange detachment from normal society. The lack of technology felt like a ‘misuse of muggle artifacts’ itself - were they insistent on making their lives harder? All of their often misplaced documents would be so much easier to access with a computer - all of their security would be so much stronger with cameras , instead of relying on instinct alone. Instinct and some excuse for magic.
Chuuya brushed his hair back one more time, scowling at his reflection and poking at the nearly-invisible bags under his eyes (the new schedule would be hard to get used to, he’d just started adjusting to working during the night, and now it was all being ripped away from him again). He leaned back, turned off the faucet that he had running, and left the room, the door making a small click as he shut it.
He was supposed to be posing as a pureblood wizard, all posh and stuck-up and that sort of thing. Chuuya himself hadn’t done all that much research on the wizarding war in the past over that same ‘blood-feud’ topic, but he knew the basics, and he knew all he had to do to provoke somebody was to sprinkle the word ‘mudblood’ into his speech like it was a very normal thing to say. He tugged at the blazer on his suit as he left the bathroom, straightening it out and waving absent-mindedly to a ministry employee he passed. He hadn’t dared to talk much so far, his British accent still wasn’t fully perfected, and though he didn’t look too British, he could pass for it, at least until you heard his Japanese accent.
He went over the plan for his part of the mission in his head as he walked down a long corridor that went who-knows-where. He’d bring up the ‘issue’ of funding going to Hogwarts, a school that ‘accepts mudbloods in it’s halls’, and when he got funding successfully severed - Chuuya actually wasn’t sure what they were doing after that. Akutagawa and Dazai would take it from there, and Chuuya’s job was done. It’d be easy enough, if it wasn’t for one major issue - Chuuya has no clue how the magical community functions, much less the Ministry of Magic, and he doesn’t know how to so much as propose the idea to the employees there, much less the higher ups.
Chuuya sighed, slipped into a secluded corner of the silent, empty (with the exception of Chuuya) hallway, and pulled out his burner phone. He only hesitated for a moment before dialing Dazai’s number and holding the phone to his ear. He regretted it the second the executive answered the call.
VI
The wand shop smelled like wood. Wood and animals, though he couldn’t quite place why. Snape walked him to the counter as Akutagawa glanced around, soaking in the dark furniture and rows and rows of wand boxes. He wasn’t sure any of them would so much as twitch in response to him, what with him not being magical - but he did have an ability, so it may connect directly to magic. Akutagawa didn’t care so much as to dwell on it. They entered through the near-rusted front door, and Akutagawa could feel Rashoumon itching on his skin. He didn’t trust the people here, with their weird smiles and energetic words. At least Snape was a clear exception, with that shadow looming over him. He reminded Akutagawa of Horitsu, in a way.
An old man, very clearly passionate about his job here and very clearly at least a bit eccentric, came out from the shelves. His face lit up when he noticed the customers standing before the counter, despite Akutagawa’s glare and Snape’s less-than-enthusiastic expression. “Why, hello, Snape! I haven’t seen you with a student in a long while!”
“Ollivander.” Snape spat out, a rough edge to his tone. He clearly wasn’t enthusiastic about being here. Akutagawa heard him mutter ‘I wish it had been longer’ under his breath, before gesturing to Akutagwa. “We need a wand for him.”
“Ah, I’d figured!”
Ollivander walked to the back, looking through the shelves, running his wrinkled fingers over the black wand cases, before settling on one, gingerly pulling it from the shelf, and bringing it to the front, opening the lid and presenting the medium-toned, long wooden wand, the handle a simple silver with a line through the middle.
“I have a feeling about this one,” Ollivander said, referring to the wand. “It’s core is from unicorn tail hair, the most faithful of cores, and the wood is aspen, for those strong-minded and determined, 10 inches in length - the two of you seem to share determination, from the looks of it.”
Akutagawa gingerly picked it from the box by the handle, holding it with his index and thumb like a rat by the tail. He scowled at it for a second, before looking to Ollivander again, saying ‘what do I do with this?’ with his eyes. At least, he hoped he was. Ollivander got the message, letting out a small laugh before setting the box back down on the counter with a small thunk . “Just a wave will do - if it doesn’t work out, don’t worry.”
Akutagawa glared at it again, before switching to a normal hold on the wand and flicking it towards the shopkeeper's face. There was a dark red glow, strong and still somehow bright . Akutagawa had to squint his eyes; Ollivander’s lit up.
“Ah, first try, as well! Handle it with care, now! Wands are delicate things, and this wand isn’t enthusiastic when it comes to misuse,” He seemed excited, but why, Akutagawa couldn’t put his finger on. Akutagawa dropped it back onto the cushion inside the box. Ollivander smiled a bit harder, placing the lid over the box and handing it off to Snape. The professor dropped a few of Akutagawa’s coins from his previous exchange at the bank (where he’d also had to convert all of his Yen to English currency) into Ollivander hand. “I can feel good things from you, little one - make good use of that wand,” He taps the box in Snape’s curling hands. “ It isn’t often you find the right one first try.”
Akutagwa nodded absentmindedly, and followed Snape when he turned to leave.
VII
Mori Ryuuno was a strange student to Severus. He was quiet, reserved, and had seemingly no interest in the magical world. He wasn’t all too enthusiastic about showing around an odd transfer student who got into Hogwarts solely because of his father’s money himself, but here he was. Hagrid would usually take over such a job, but he was busy with the actual first years. The kid barely knew English - Severus was convinced he only spoke it now because of Severus’s translation spell when they first met (it was a fairly weak spell, and Mori’s thick Japanese accent still shone through just fine). The entire shopping period, he’d been dead silent, only talking if somebody talked to him. When he did talk, his voice was slightly raspy and confused, lined with his accent.
As Severus prepared to apparate Ryuuno again, his hand securely placed on the kid’s stiff shoulder. The location is just outside of Hogwarts grounds, a small clearing of land, and they would then head to Dumbledore’s office to properly sort the boy before the school year began. It was like Severus could feel the anxiety seeping out of this kid’s pores. Severus mutters out a quick warning, gripping a tad bit tighter on Mori’s shoulder and grimacing slightly as he gathers his magic, focuses on the location, the soft roll of the hills and the sharp but short mountains in the distance, the lake surrounding the castle - and releases it, a sharp crack resounding. He feels Mori tensing, then relaxing more once the teleport is complete, and they’re staring up at the towering castle, the brisk autumn air curling through Severus’s hair and pushing it in front of his face. He lets go of the kid’s shoulder, steps up the stone stairs in front of him, and gestures for Mori to follow.
The boy does, the heels of his boots clicking on the cobblestone behind Severus. The entrance to Hogwarts, the building that’s seemed to haunt Severus his whole life, towers in front of the two, looming and ever-present. They walk through it, the familiar hum of magic in the air again, and Severus finds himself increasingly annoyed at the size of the school. He doesn’t have the energy to show the kid around the school while he looks for the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Unfortunately for Severus, Hogwarts didn’t allow apparition on school grounds (with the exception of learning it , but that wasn’t the case now), so he led the kid through the winding hallways and winding staircases, a permanent scowl set into his face.
When they arrived at the gargoyle statue at the entrance to the Headmaster’s office, Snape glanced over his shoulder at the kid, and again, the neutrality of his expression seemed off, as if there was something just underneath the surface. Severus spoke the password, loud and clear, and watched as the statue twirled and gave way to a tall, spiral staircase in the crevice where the gargoyle used to be. Severus gestured to the kid to follow, and he did.
Dumbledore’s office was as overly-extravagant as ever, magical artifacts scattered around the room, the light just slightly too-warm to be cozy, the newly-reborn phoenix in the cage next to his desk, next to where he was sitting. The other heads of the houses were scattered around the room, all looking rather anxious, with the exception of the ever-composed Professor McGonagal. There was a wood chair pulled into the center of the room, right in front of the Headmaster’s desk, and the sorting hat sat on top of it, the fabric pooling over the edges a bit.
Something twinkles in Dumbledore’s eyes when he noticed Mori following behind Severus, fidgeting and picking at his skin, his eyes darting around the room as if he’s looking for all possible escape routes. Dumbledore stood, his robes swishing around him, and welcomed the kid. Severus let the kid step forward and moved to the side of the office with the other heads of the houses - he stood next to McGonagal, who had a strangely fond look in her eyes. Severus knew she had a soft spot for children, that’s why she was a teacher, after all. Apparently, she had a good feeling about this anxious, off-putting kid who was stepping up to the chair, picking up the Sorting Hat with the very tips of his fingers, and sitting down. Mori sets the hat on his lap and looks down at it, then to Severus for only a moment, and finally to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore gives Mori a slightly altered version of the normal speech before the sorting ceremony (really, the only things that changed were the parts about having multiple students), and gestures for the kid to put the rugged old hat on his head. Mori holds it up, ever cautious, and fits it snugly against his head.
VIII
Akutagawa could feel Rashoumon buzzing beneath his skin, his nerves alight as the magical artifact settled on top of his head. He could feel its magic buzzing too, but Rashoumon - that destructive force that lay not just below his skin, but just above - was so much stronger . When the sorting hat spoke, he had to suppress a shiver as the magic peaked.
‘ You’re quite hard to fit into boxes, aren’t you? ’
Akutagawa sneered, shifting slightly in the seat and willing the thoughts out of his mind, as if that would do anything to stop the hat from prying. He tried twisting it with Rashoumon from the inside, invisible to the teachers, tried to silence it any way he could - but the damned thing wouldn’t be quiet .
‘ Plenty of ambition, plenty of resourcefulness… but cunning? No, I don’t think so… ’
He didn’t know what the hat was talking about - his research on the school had been few and far between, not to mention the little information in the pamphlet whoever made his mission brief had stamped into the folder. He knew the houses, but only by name, and until now, he had been under the impression that your placement in them was randomly assigned.
‘ Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are out of the question, but Slytherin and Gryffindor… hm… ’
Akutagawa clenched his hands into the hard wood of the chair, mentally willing the hat to hurry up and finish it’s job, so he could be free of these professors’ stares, so the headache that came with connecting Rashoumon to something magical could be over with. Akutagawa had defaulted to blocking out the insistent screaming of the artifact inside his head, and staring down at the floor.
He didn’t notice the hat had made it’s decision until it yelled out, loud and clear, “Gryffindor!”