Yo, peeps! Listen up, I got bored, so this is the end. I wrote this for fun and decided to share it with y'all, but now I've lost motivation.

(To tell you the truth, the scene that I really wanted to write was the one where Harry and Ron found Ichigo locked up in the cellar... don't kill me.)

Chapter 10

"So you're going to break into an unbreakable bank for a cup?" Ichigo deadpanned.

Harry looked sheepish, "Ichigo, I'm sorry that I've gotten you involved, this really has nothing to do with—"

Ichigo waved his hand in dismissal, "Who gives a shit, I was involved the moment I ended up in that cellar. But you're telling me," he paused, "You're going to break into an unbreakable bank," he paused again, "for a stupid. Cup."

The cup was obviously a Very Important Cup, but the three friends had never explicitly mentioned why. After Hermione made an incredibly improbable leap of logic and determined that the Special Cup was in the vault of a woman named Bellatrix, and then further explained Gringotts for Ichigo's sake, Ichigo couldn't stay silent anymore. Not to mention the fact that Harry went on a guilt trip every five minutes and Ichigo was just sick of it. Nobody should worry for Ichigo. Ichigo did the worrying.

Harry's face looked so damn serious all of a sudden. "Ichigo, you're a muggle. You've got nothing to do with wizards and nothing to do with our wars. I already think you know too much."

"But Harry— you heard him too, didn't you?" Hermione replied. "He knew where the cup was before we did. Imagine what else he might know!"

An awkward silence pervaded over the group. Ichigo scratched the back of his head. Ron shuffled his feet. Hermione fiddled with a piece of hair. Harry adjusted his glasses.

"So… um… Ichigo…" Hermione mumbled. "What else… do you know?"

Ichigo was too tired to glare. "You guys are in a war?"

Hermione nodded like this answered her question.

"But I think," Ichigo continued, "I think I have to go with you. To this robbery."

"What?!" Ron bellowed.

"Ichigo, I don't think that's a good idea—"

"OI! I suggested this death-trip, didn't I? I'm coming whether you like it or not! Even if I am one of those stupid muggles! Now tell me the shit I gotta know and I'll try to keep you idiots alive!"

Hermione laughed, it was so short you almost missed it, but she did.

But Ichigo wasn't listening. He was tracking a different line of thought, mainly: Aizen. Whatever Ichigo may or may not know, he did know one crucial thing: he was here because of Aizen. Ichigo had to somehow get in contact with these "Death Eaters" and somehow find out what they knew. Who dropped Ichigo off at Malfoy Manor? Who were those police officers? What was Aizen doing in the World of the Living? What was happening in Soul Society? What were wizards? The questions were never-ending. Staying with these wizards might not be the safest option, but Ichigo knew that these guys were the best key to finding out what he wanted.

Harry nodded and the tenseness in his shoulders dissipated, like he was secretly relieved. "If we're really going to do this, we're going to need the help of a goblin."

Ron smirked, "Good thing we've got a goblin living upstairs."

By some unheard signal that Ichigo completely missed, the trio all stood up, Ichigo a moment after. "You better grab the sword," Harry added over his shoulder, and Ichigo looked around for the sword he had stolen from the goblin and found it in his hand. He had apparently never let go of it.

Opening the door toppled the girl Luna over from where she was eavesdropping. She quickly gathered herself, moving in an almost whimsical manner. "Hi, Ichigo!"

"Luna," he acknowledged. Ichigo had only met her for a few hours, but he could say that about any of these wizards. Just because you didn't know them long didn't mean they were bad.

"We need to speak with Griphook immediately," Harry said. After a moment, he continued, "Actually, make that Ollivander too. Separately."

Luna tapped her chin. "Hmm, I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask, but c'mon."

She led them up a flight of stairs, Ichigo taking the rear. At a landing with three doors, Bill appeared, the red-headed scarred man from before. Harry explained the situation again, to which he led them into a bedroom, Ichigo wasn't sure whose it was. The light outside was pitch black and Ichigo realized how late it was. Maybe he was suffering from jet-lag. Now that he thought about it, it was strange that his regular time zone was completely synced with Soul Society. He never got jet-leg from moving between worlds.

Hermione sat down on the only chair, Ron sat on the arm. Ichigo awkwardly stood in the back, leaning against the wall. Bill carried the beat-up goblin in the room and put him on the bed.

Harry did all the speaking, "I'm sorry to take you out of bed. How are your legs?"

"Painful," the goblin sneered. Ichigo felt the his black eyes beating into him, and him alone, even though the goblin was speaking to Harry. "But mending."

"You probably don't remember—" Harry continued.

"— that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" Yeah, Ichigo was completely lost. "I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous."

"What?!"

Everyone turned to look at Ichigo. He blushed and muttered something about continuing. But the goblin didn't. "You," the goblin spat, "You took the sword."

Ichigo looked up when he eventually realized he was being addressed. "Well, nobody was using it…" The sword felt heavier in his hand.

"You took the sword."

Ichigo had the sensation of constantly being off-balance in this wizarding world. He was always missing something important, and it pissed him off. "What about it?!"

The goblin sneered.

Harry butted in, "Griphook, I need your help."

"I will not help you, Harry Potter. Not for all the gold in the world."

Harry looked so damn heart-broken it was almost comical. He grimaced and tried again, "Please, Griphook. We saved you—"

"I am aware of the debt I owe you, but it cannot be paid this way. Not when you're working with that thing."

Ichigo strode forward and got into the goblins face, gripping the goblins shirt and pulling him up painfully. "I don't care if you hate me. Hell, I don't care if you try to murder me at night. But I won't let your hate stop you from helping someone when they really need it. So stuff it, pipsqueak, get over yourself." Ichigo dropped the goblin on his broken legs and stalked back to his place on the wall.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. She slowly shook her head.

Griphook had grown a remarkable shade of red, his face twisted in anger.

"Just… think about it, please," Harry tried to placate, and they nearly ran out the door.

Once outside at the landing, the three friends rounded on Ichigo.

"What were you thinking?" Hermione exploded, managing to keep her voice to a civil level while also conveying her infuriation.

Ichigo jutted his chin out and looked to the side. "He obviously wasn't going to work with us."

"So you beat him up?!"

Ichigo said nothing.

"Well, Griphook did insult him," Ron said.

Hermione rounded on him, "Don't you start now!"

Harry sighed miserably. "Maybe he will change his mind…?"

Suddenly Ichigo felt a little bad about what he did. Harry clearly thought the goblin was the only chance he had to steal the Special Cup. He scratched the back of his head, and started to say, "I could go back and apologize if you guys want—"

"NO!" they all said at once.

Ichigo huffed.

"Okay, Ollivander now. And Ichigo, please stay back," Harry asked.

They walked around the landing to the door opposite and knocked. A weak "Come in!" answered them. They entered. The Ollivander guy was laying on twin bed farthest from the window, and he looked bad. Really bad. Ichigo was afraid of breathing too deeply for the fear that he'll crumble into tiny bits and dissipate. The three wizards sat down on the other empty bed, but Hermione shooed Ichigo away before he got too close. Trying to keep his temper in check, Ichigo, once again, took his place awkwardly leaning against the wall.

"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," Harry began.

"My dear boy," the old man croaked. "You rescued us. I thought we would die in that place. I can never thank you… never thank you… enough."

Ichigo felt a small glow in the middle of his stomach, and he regretted that he hadn't tried to help these people escape. Everything had moved so fast, one second he woke up, the next he's running for his life dodging strange streams of light. If only he'd stopped to think…

"We were glad to do it." Harry sounded sincere. A brief wince clouded Harry's face before it smoothed out again. What was that about? Ichigo wondered. "Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."

Hermione shot Ichigo a look that said "Move or say anything that will ruin this and there'll be hell to pay!" Ichigo, contrary to belief, understood these looks a great deal more than most and wisely kept silent.

"Anything, anything," Ollivander reassured.

Harry reached up to a bag/necklace he carried around his neck that Ichigo never noticed before. He took out two sticks— probably two halves of one of those stick-things. "Can you mend this? Is it possible?" Ichigo scrunched his eyebrows together. Were wands unfixable after they're broken? Like Bankai?

Harry gave the stick-things to the old man, who proceeded to mumble something about phoenixes and trees. "Eleven inches. Nice and supple."

What a weird old man.

Ollivander said wands couldn't be fixed, just like Ichigo had guessed. Harry took it like a blow to the gut, but he soldiered on, asking Ollivander to identify the stick-things they had stolen from those other wizards.

"Walnut and dragon heartstring. Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding." Ollivander shot Ichigo a small look with quick silver eyes. "This wand used to belong to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"And this one?"

"Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy."

"Was? Used to? Don't they still belong to them?"

"Perhaps not. If you took it—"

"—I did—"

The old man looked at Ichigo, waiting.

Ichigo blinked. "What? I didn't take one."

Now Harry blinked. "Mr. Ollivander, are you saying that if you take another's wand by force it becomes yours?"

"Not necessarily, my boy. It's heavily dependent on the manner it was taken, whose wand it was originally, and the character of the person who took it, but, in general, that is the rule, yes."

Ichigo was silently grateful that zanpakutos were different from wands. He had a horrible vision of Aizen stealing all the zanpakutos of all the shinigami and then using them against their original owners.

"You talk about wands like they've got feelings. Like they can think for themselves."

Ichigo's hopes were dashed in an instant. Wands had souls?! Wait, what?

"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander agreed, and Ichigo got a Bad Feeling.

"A person can still use a wand that hasn't chosen them, though?"

"Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument." That wasn't what Hermione said! Hermione said they needed wands! "The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand." Sounded like a zanpakuto to Ichigo, not sure about anyone else.

"I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force. Can I use it safely?" Ichigo entertained himself with the idea of stealing Senbonzakura and seeing if he could use it safely. Hah.

"I think so." Ichigo did a double-take at the old man's response.

"So I should use this one?" said Ron, showing off another stick-thing taken from that man Ichigo tackled. He couldn't remember his name.

"Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand." So, nice-talk for: If you beat the guy to a pulp his wand will like you more and switch sides.

The old man was looking at Ichigo again. Ichigo gazed steadily back. Sighing, Ollivander picked up the walnut wand, "I sense an allegiance change. This wand will always seek the stronger, the one who won it must be strong indeed."

"I didn't take it," Ichigo snapped.

"Ichigo isn't a wizard," Harry said. "Even if he did take the wand, what's it matter if he can't use it?"

"But I didn't take it!" Ichigo repeated.

"You did take it! Back in Malfoy Manor, when he first charged the room to get Hermione, Bellatrix's wand flew right to your hand!" Harry argued.

Ichigo turned to face him with a venomous look and was interrupted by the old man. "...Ichigo, was it? Come, boy. Take the wand."

Ichigo stayed where he was and continued his death glare match with Harry. Narrowing his eyes to slits, Harry took the walnut wand from the old man and marched right up to Ichigo and practically shoved the wand into his face. Ichigo ripped the wand out of Harry's grip with vehemence.

That was when a red-black miasma issued from the tip. Startled, Ichigo almost dropped the damn stick. He was completely unaware of the suspicious looks shot around behind his back, because, once again, the world did a tiny flip-flop onto its side.

"What the hell, mate!?"

"What's going on?!"

"You can do magic, Ichigo?! Ichigo?"

The yells sort of brushed over him from another world. There was Ichigo, the shinigami. Ichigo, the hollow. Ichigo, the quincy. Ichigo, the Fullbringer. Ichigo, the human.

Not Ichigo, the wizard.

Definitely not.

Eventually, he realized that this probably wasn't a good time to space out. He looked up into outraged faces, confused faces, supportive faces. Faces he didn't know. He looked down at a stupid length of wood that seemed content in changing his way of life.

In the end, all he said was, with a certain sense of morbid humor, "So. Does this make me one-fifth human, or still one-fourth?"

A/N: I guess this is up for "adoption". If you're interested in finishing this up, PM me. Or review and I'll get back to you. Either or.