He taped long, black fingernails on his ebony throne. He was sitting in the lowest part of his domain, one that the peasants of Hell couldn't reach. He rolled golden eyes, them shining with boredom and the need to do something.

"You look bored," a voice sing-songed, knowing the response.

"It's been like this for a century, of course I'm bored," the man sitting in the throne replied. The latter voice was that of a male, and the King's only company.

"But King~ You have me don't you?" the watery voice replied. Golden eyes shift over to look at the others equally golden eyes, though the other's were surrounded by a sea of black. Tanned skin flashed in the fires that headed the candles in the throne room. Golden armor glinted in the form of skulls. Some of his torso showed under the half-armor, causing his other to shutter at the muscle that showed and flexed as the man stood his full six foot height, waist-length, orange hair swaying.

"Indeed, but your crude humor only last for so long. Hell is a boring and strangely peaceful place," he chuckled.

"Nothing can help with boredom like a good fight," the paler of the two offered. His bleached, waist-length hair, that seemed suck in all the colors of Hell, was the same color as the robe he wore. A black sash slung over his waist, tying the robe together.

"So it's fighting this time?" the King of Hell laughed, "that's not what you said last time, Shiro." Said man pouted, but then his smirk was rekindled with a retort to back it up.

"You wholeheartedly agreed, Ichi. With all those sounds," Shiro pointed out, pushing Ichigo back in his throne and straddled his king. Ichigo only hummed in response. A small tugging resounded in his chest, and Ichigo groaned. "Who is it, King?"

"The one with the weird face and smells like fish. Remember that?" Ichigo sighed. Shiro wrinkled his nose in remembrance.

"That Volder-mold guy? What does he want anyway? He's not worthy of my King's attention," Shiro huffed. Ichigo chuckled, putting his head on Shiro's shoulder. Another, more gentle tug was felt, on full of worry and hope. A desperate man... one Ichigo would surely help. "Go on King, I got Hell."

With a nod and a goodbye kiss, Ichigo vanished from his throne, leaving the chaotic hollow control of the underworld.

"Albus, I don't think this a good idea."

Of course it wasn't, but they had no choice in the matter. Things we're getting out of hand, and they needed help. The circle of teachers stood around the carved wood, all nervous and jittery. So many students have come close to death, and this was the last straw.

"Diaboli, clamorem meum exaudi! Hoc mortalis homo, opus est auxilio tou in tempore rebus. Venite, et dona velle meum!"*

With that, the older man, Albus, slit his hand, letting the life blood flow onto the ceremonial circle. It glowed steadily, and then simply stopped. Everyone looked around, trying to see if anyone had joined them.

Suddenly, a crushing force filled the room, causing even Dumbledore to fall on his knees.

"Why do you call me? Of what purpose is your summons?"

The voice that filled the room was laced with power and had no tolerance for lies. Dumbledore stood, signaling the others to stay on the ground.

"My children are in trouble, and I fear for their safety," Dumbledore spoke truthfully.

"Your children? Why, Headmaster, do you not hear tales? The devil will take the soul of the summoner back to Hell with him for his price."

"I will fully agree to it," Albus stated, knowing this was coming. A chuckle was heard, but it was not dark like they had imagined. It was joy filled, almost apologetic.

"Fear not, Headmaster. I wish this not from you. You passed my test, then," Ichigo smiled, showing himself to the mortals before him. His golden armor gleamed, though he had removed the headpiece that covered his eye. He ran a hand through his orange hair, beaming at the old wizard.

"A test?" McGonagall gasped, her heart racing with the fear of losing her friend.

"Yes, quell your fear, Minerva," Ichigo chuckled.

"So it went well?"

Everyone jumped as Shiro's multi-layered voice echoed through the room. Ichigo smiled, almost lovingly, Dumbledore noted.

"Quite. You will not see me for a while," Ichigo answered, enjoying the humans' befuddlement.

"So you truly are the Devil?" Snape asked, eyeing the orangette.

"Much more than that, Severus. I am Death. I am the Lord of Hell. I am one half of a whole, yet am whole at the same time. I am everything and nothing. Most importantly, I am here to help. Do you doubt?" Ichigo smirked, a small chill going through Snape.

"We doubt not. What may we call you?" Dumbledore cut in.

"Ichigo. No more, no less."

"Ichigo? Is that not Japanese for strawberry?" Flitwick asked, earning a sharp glare. Golden eye burn with hatred and loathing, though it was not at the short man.

"Yes... but that is not how my name is translated," Ichigo hissed. The shorter man flinched, and Ichigo sighed. "I apologize, Filius. That is one of the most hated things about me. Everyone assumes. It was the same when I was alive. Fear not, I am here to protect."

Flitwick sighed, thankful he was not at the other end of the god's rage. Dumbledore chuckled, liking the apparent teen already. Though the age shone through his eyes, the man looked to be seventeen and the most.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Ichigo."

Devil, hear my cry! This mortal man needs thy power. Come grant my wish