Hello, readers! For this to work, I needed to totally fuck with modern Japanese history and Kenshin's ages (seriously, it's messed up how young he had to be). This corresponds with the fourth year of Harry Potter and follows its plot!

I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or Harry Potter. But oh, how I wish.

Chapter One

His apprentice was asleep, leaning against the wall, katana held loosely against his shoulder. Hiko watched as he breathed up and down. Even in sleep, the idiot still managed to look troubled. But after all that he'd done, it was understandable, as well as all his fault. He'd tried to warn Kenshin, but no, he went off and did it anyway, killing thousands before he finally returned here. It'd been a month now, but he still occasionally wondered why the hell he ever let him back.

It was June now, and Kenshin would be fourteen in three weeks' time. Stupid boy, going out alone at the age of ten and staining his hands with the blood of all his victims so thoroughly that it would never wash off. And then when it was all over, he'd come running back, barely clinging on to his sanity. Though according to the boy himself, he'd lost that sanity a long, long time ago. Hiko was almost inclined to believe him.

Insanity certainly seemed the case when he showed up in front of the little cottage ("Shack," Kenshin used to say just to annoy him) at month ago, drenched in blood. Some of it had even dried. It made for a sick image, especially since his eyes were so wide they were almost too large for his face, as he shook from head to toe. It had been May, the time everything came to life, and yet his apprentice had come back to him, drowning in death.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing he'd asked. Kenshin just looked at him with those large, large eyes. So full of fear. "I never said you could return."

Kenshin began to stammer, passing back and forth. "I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I swear, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Everyone knows what I look like, so I can't just go walking around because there's no possible way to avoid people and they whisper things whenever I pass. They're afraid of me and I didn't want to have them staring at me because it's slightly unnerving and I need somewhere to go anyway since I don't want to get involved in the government and-and-and—"

Hiko then stopped him, putting hands on both of those shaking shoulders. "Calm down, and go clean yourself up. And then we can talk."

In reply, he'd received a confused nod and Kenshin allowed himself to be led away. It was half an hour before he'd come back.

"Now what were you say?" Hiko had asked, looking down at his short apprentice expectantly.

"I'm sorry. I should probably leave." He went to walk away.

"Stay." He paused. "How long do you want to stay here?"

A shrug and a mumbled. "I'm not sure. Not long. I'll only stay here for a little while, since you don't want me here."

To this, Hiko had found himself wondering where the little boy he'd taught all those years ago had gone because never had he seen him so…dejected. He furrowed his brow.

"Stay as long as you need. Just don't expect any favors."

A sigh of relief. "Thank you, sensei."

"But first, let's spar. No, no, not right now; after you've rested."

A pause. "We can't use actual katanas."

Hiko turned around. "Oh, really? No matter who you are, you're still just the student—you won't beat me, let alone kill me. Unless it's for your own safety."

A head shake. "No, I'm just not myself when someone attacks back. I'm still thinking and it's still me, but I can't seem to stop."

"How long has this been going on?"

Another shrug. "Since I was about to turn eleven, I think."

"Hm." For a moment, Hiko allowed himself to ponder. "Then we should teach you how to control that."

Kenshin looked up, red hair covering his face. "What?"

The boy was completely miserable. He'd been warned, but he didn't listen. From his face, though, Hiko could tell he didn't regret it—he still thought it was the right choice. Good for the country maybe, but bad enough that he was dead inside. That much was obvious. Something about this disturbed Hiko greatly because this dead shell was not the lively boy he remembered. But he could change that, he was sure.

Unfortunately, it had been a month and that dead look hadn't gone away. That foolish, foolish boy, throwing his life away from the greater good and allowing himself to become the most feared 'man' in the country, the symbol of all the bloodshed. He just wondered how many people realized that he hadn't even reached adulthood yet. But he could see why Kenshin ran; the few times he'd gone to down his mountain to buy sake, it was all he heard about.

He leaned against the wall, watching the tortured look etch itself across Kenshin's sleeping face. Every once in a while, he would murmur random words, such as 'Tomoe' and 'Sorry'. More than anything, he said sorry, awake and dreaming. It was nearing midnight. Hiko would also be sleeping, if he weren't waiting for something.

A week ago, he'd received a letter delivered by an owl. He'd been surprised and suspicious, but read it anyway. It addressed to him and the address was almost too precise to be a joke. At first he'd thought it was a threat notice or something of the sort, but he was proving wrong. Instead, it read this:

Dear Mr. S. Hiko,

I hope to hear that my Japanese is written well enough to be understood. I am writing to you in regard of the boy, Shinta, you took under your wing a few weeks ago. This will seem a little strange, but we would like him to join us at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school for young witches and wizards such as himself.

It seems that there was a mistake with the Japanese school in the area. Like all schools of magical study, the first year would have been when he was eleven, but for some reason the letter could not find him. Only recently did my school, here in England, realize that he was still alive. When the Japanese school of your area (I apologize, but I cannot give out its name) was told, they said he could not be accepted in late for he'd missed too much.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has only ever accepted on other late student and we would not mind repeating the favor. For some reason he has not displayed any outward signs of magic, showing that he has probably locked it away, but this can turn into a very dangerous situation for himself and those around him. Magic is not always an amicable thing when uncontrolled.

He would need to learn quickly, of course, over the summer, if he was to enter this school because he would appear as a fourth year. Though in first year notes, it often says to get back to us by July thirty-first, I must be a bit abrupt and ask you to say whether or not he can attend no letter than June thirtieth.

I do hope you take this seriously;

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hiko had stared at the words for a very, very long time, trying to look at it from every possible angle. In the end, since the owl was pecking his hand so incessantly, he took a pen and wrote back:

To Albus Dumbledore,

I will not tell him until you show me proof and consider who you are offering to have attend your school, if it exists. Show me magic and I will give it to him to consider.

—Hiko

Three days later, he'd gotten a reply:

Dear Mr. S. Hiko,

Wait outside at midnight of the sixth of June. I will come there and show you proof.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And that was how Hiko now found himself turning away from his not-so-peacefully sleeping apprentice and walking outside, where the late spring air wrapped around him like a cloak of warmth. The night was the perfect temperature and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, just a large expanse of stars and a bright shining moon.

"I once heard someone say I painted the moon red whenever I killed."

Kenshin's small voice shot straight through his mind. Hiko moved his eyes away from the sky. Where was the proof?

Suddenly there was a small pop behind him. He turned around and with a jolt of surprise, found himself only a few yards away from a man in very long robes, buckled boots, half-moon spectacles, a pointed hat, and supporting a beard and hair length that could easily be tucked into his belt. And he'd come out of nowhere. Hiko shook away his shock and accepted it easily: if this man could appear from nothing, then his letter must not have been phony. Even so, he put his hand down on the hilt of the katana at his waist, reading to use it if this man proved a threat.

After all, the letter was regarding Kenshin and if anyone went to hurt that boy, Hiko wouldn't mind killing them before the person could do it. Though he may not act it, he thought of that boy as something of a son—a son that already had enough done to him in one lifetime. Death was not a place he needed to arrive at so soon.

"Oh, don't worry, I mean you know harm, sir," the man said, walking forward. Hiko's grip lessened only slightly. He was speaking Japanese, but it sounded off with his strong British accent. "I am the one you corresponded with, Albus Dumbledore. I'm very pleased to meet you." He gave a little bow. Hiko warily returned the gesture.

"And you are already aware of who I am," he answered, straightening. "So? Is it true that boy is accepted into your school? You've shown me your proof, I'll admit it."

"Ah, yes." The man took a step forward. "Where is he, if I may ask?"

"Inside the cottage." He paused, then motioned with his hand. "Come with me. I don't want to wake him up." Side by side, they walked.

"In your last letter, you said 'and consider who you are offering to accept', correct?" Dumbledore asked. Hiko nodded. "May I ask why this is? I find myself assuming that, excuse me for wording it so bluntly but I do not know any other way to put it in this language, there is something wrong with Shinta?"

"The boy is no long Shinta. I renamed him Kenshin when he was a child and I took him in."

"Ah, Kenshin. I will keep that in mind."

"Before I answer your question, I have one of my own: What would the consequences of having uncontrolled magic do to that boy?"

The man sighed. "Alas, the first question you ask me is a sad one. He can end up hurting himself or someone else with magic or he can begin to notice little things that happen with no explanation. This can perhaps make him go insane."

Hiko almost laughed. "Believe me, sir," he said. "My idiot of an apprentice has done all of those things without the help of magic at all."

"I'm taking it that is why you asked me to 'consider' the boy?"

"Yes."

"What caused him to do this?"

"Have you ever heard of the name Battousai?" he asked as they walked. A twig snapped under Dumbledore's foot.

"Yes, of course." The old man nodded. "He's all over the Muggle news, even in England. The man is described as the 'greatest assassin in the world, and yet he still uses a sword', am I right?"

"What's a Muggle?" What an odd word. It felt strange in his mouth.

"A person who is not a witch or wizard, a non-magic individual. Shi—sorry, I mean Kenshin, is a Muggle-born, so he was born from two non-magical parents. Now, may I ask why the most powerful and feared killer in the world has to do with the fourteen-year-old sleeping in your house?" They paused at the edge of the forest.

"Kenshin is—was—the Battousai until around a month ago." The older man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But the news has it wrong when they call him a bloodthirsty murderer. In truth, he's just a stupid boy who joined this country's revolutionary movement. Yes, he has killed thousands of men and is, in fact, a murderer, but he never liked the killing. He said he'll never kill again. If you allow me to speak frankly, I believe it would be a good thing for him to leave Japan and assimilate himself back into society. The problem is that he can't do it here."

His companion had a worried face. "I see. Are you sure he won't do anything when surrounded by others?"

Hiko nodded. "Even with a sword, he won't do anything unless the two of us are sparring or he's willing to protect something."

"Is he, um, sane?"

Ah, yes, a very, very good quest. "Yes, but he's barely holding on. Anymore of this like and he'll snap. That's why I believing would be the best for him. People won't associate his face with the famous Japanese assassin. There's never been a picture taken of him and the description of his looks is mostly rumor." He laughed humorlessly. "He just looks like a sad little boy and it's said he looks like a demon. I can assure you; he only looks like that when he's about to kill someone."

"Tell me as much as you can about this boy. I agree that, from who you've said thus far, it would be good for him to leave, but I need to make sure he won't kill the other students and teachers. If I may be so bold."

In response, Hiko just sighed. That damn kid. "I found him when he was very young, back when he was still known as Shinta. An illegal group of slave traders was leading people like a herd. A large number of murderers came and slaughtered every last one of them. Kenshin, then Shinta, was the last one left alive and I walked away. Around a day and a half later, I came back to find him standing in a graveyard that hadn't been there the day before. Even at such a young age, he buried every person—slaves, traders, and bandits alike.

"I then took him in to be my apprentice, as the art of swords is a dead one, except among assassins, it seems. And I needed to pass this style on or it would be lost forever. He learned and improved at an alarmingly fast rate. When he was ten, the revolution began. We had an argument about whether or not to help. He left and within in six months he was known, not by name or face but by the efficiency and sheer brutality of his killings, as the deadliest assassin the world has ever seen. And the most blood-crazed of murderers.

"I'll admit that I believed, most like because I was still angry with him. It wasn't until I saw him again, a month ago, that I realized that with every time new blood was spilt, he died a little more inside. He came here, shaking and afraid and I used that vulnerability to get answers. He told me about the nightmares, how it didn't affect him at first, but now it has finally caught up to him and drove him to near insanity. That's what dreams can do. He said he can no longer sleep any other way than propped upright against a wall, sword against his shoulder, always alert for attack. He told about the stories he heard about himself. He spoke about his commander with respect and finally, he told about a woman named Tomoe.

"He befriended her one night after she passed out and he carried her to the inn he lived in. There she was given a job. He was eleven at the time, nearly twelve. One day it became apparent there was a traitor in the midst of their ranks and his commander told him to hide for a while and to go with her. They could pretend to be mother and child. Then she left for reasons he wouldn't say, but whatever it was, it appears to have put her in danger. He went after her—whether to speak to her or save her, I can't tell you. It turned out to be a trap the traitor set up and he was ambushed and hurt. From this, he'd lost his hearing and some of his sight. The last man he fought grabbed Tome and held her in front of him. Kenshin couldn't tell and accidently killed both of them together. Though he probably never realized it himself, I think he may have loved her.

"I believe he truly broke after that. He was already an extremely withdrawn person by nature, but after this he completely closed himself off, becoming the shell people accused him of. Even so, he saw this battle through and played a large part in the victory. When it was all over, he came back here because he had nowhere else to go. Despite what he'd done for this country, people were still afraid of him. And since he's at the young age of thirteen, he couldn't deal with that. So then I allowed him to come back and I've been teaching him how to break away from the paranoia he developed when fighting. Unfortunately, it's a bit difficult to snap him out of it, but it's possible and easier on some days than on others. I've never told him this, but he could easily kill me if I didn't have to stop him. He's exceeded the master, I'll be honest."

They fell silent as the old man thought. Hiko's mind wandered to the absurdity of this entire situation. Here he was, speaking to a man in a cloak and funny hat about his apprentice, a famous killer, training as a wizard. It was almost humorous.

"So, you're saying this boy would not be a threat to anyone?"

"You could give him a sword and he'd still never have the urge to kill a person. Parting with his sword, though, will be difficult. I'll tell you that know. He's been so accustom to it at his side that it would almost be like part of his body was missing."

"Hm. An interesting situation."

"I know a way of demonstrating his self control."

"How."

"Come back here at ten tomorrow and watch us spar. Though I can tell you right now that it will be a bad day for him, and may be a bit more difficult bring him back to reality than it was two days ago."

"How can you tell?"

"The more tortured he looks in his sleep, the harder it will be in the morning. If you come back at ten and watch, you can decide if he can come. Stay hidden and only emerge afterwards if you believe he can make it. Then I suggest you prove magic to him. If not, don't come out at all. And don't let the brutal truth of the fight sway your opinion."

"I understand."

"I'll see you, possibly, tomorrow, then."

The two exchanged goodbyes and Dumbledore disappeared right where he was standing, leaving Hiko slightly taken aback. Then he sighed and turned away, wondering what exactly he just got the kid into.