Urm. Are any of my readers still out there?
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The sun had long set behind the mountain-covered horizon, the sky reflecting a deep navy blue while the stars twinkled brightly overhead and the half-moon hovered near the mountain summits. Stars were always brighter in magical areas, Professor Zhāng mused as he shuffled stacks of graded papers into a semblance of order. Magical schools, more so than other areas, were known for their bright and never-ending skies: lights were sparse after curfew and magical fireflies amused themselves but flitting about in the sky, mingling with the moonlight and candles, and pollution was minimal in magical areas with wards often blocking any technology that could potentially dirty their air and water.
Professor Zhāng picked up the two discarded teacups that were spread across his desk, both still full with cold tea, small leaf fragments resting peacefully undisturbed at the bottom of each porcelain ware. Despite talking for hours with the pink-haired wizard, he had learned very little of where the boy had been for the past year. Shuuichi had been uncooperative as ever, dodging his meaningful question with distractions, jokes, and the occasional plea. He couldn't bring himself to push the issue further with Shuuichi, guilt hitting him each time he saw the forlorn expression that would cross his ex-student's face every time he tried to bring up the topic. They ended up spending the last hours of the day discussing Shuuichi's school years before Professor Zhāng had given notably tired Shuuichi the password to his quarters and shooing him away with an the order to rest. The time difference from China to Japan was miniscule and rather negligible, but Professor Zhāng suspected the boy was exhausted for different reasons. The boy was probably curled up on his couch now, buried between downy cushions and cotton blankets.
The boy had changed over the years but not enough to where Professor Zhāng couldn't recognize him. He was sadder now, noticeably so, but more passionate at the same time. He was a contradiction, a boy who could somehow be so ebullient and melancholy at the same time, bordering on being bi-polar. He still held that same curiosity in him though, as well as that inherent optimism for the better that would likely never disappear.
Professor Zhāng could clearly remember Shuuichi as a student, the typical bright-eyed yet innocent youth whose curiosity often overshot his common sense. Zhāng was a Traditional Charms professor, who taught—as the class titled implied—traditional charms, ones that had fallen out of style in the West but still lived on in Eastern teachings. The charms required no wands as a medium for their magic but concentration, discipline, and often old-fashion chanting, physical artifacts, and the occasional hand signs for execution. This genre of spell casting was harder for learn and perform than the Western wand waving but the resulting spells were more resilient, stronger, and more efficient.
Professor Zhāng smiled as he wordlessly tapped the edge of each teacup, the liquid vanishing and leaving the resulting cups empty and clean. He overturned the two cups, stacking them over one another before setting them down on the small black tea tray that was nestled atop a low bookshelf. Shuuichi had found his class absolutely fascinating, and it became one of the few classes that Shuuichi loved but did not excel in.
Shuuichi had passed the class, though with a lower grade than the boy had wished, which was a testament to the boy's stubborn will. The pink-haired teen, while finding the idea of old fashion rituals and spell chanting enthralling, lacked the proper discipline and concentration to ever truly succeed in the subject. Traditional Charms required prolong periods of concentration, any interruption disrupting the spell and therefore forcing a complete repeat of the entire spell from the beginning.
Professor Zhāng chucked lowly to himself as he recalled an incident in the boy's Sixth year. He had assigned the class into groups of five for an old warding spell. He always used five; it was the simplest and best number that balanced properly with the natural elements that required an even, yet non-strenuous, flow of magic. Three person rituals were the strongest to cover smaller tasks but required each member to cover larger areas of the spell casting. Seven people, while reducing the amount of power needed, was such an uneven number that an experienced caster must be involved to simply sooth the environment's natural magic to accept the spell. Five was the perfect number, especially for a group of amateur casters, but the spell casting itself still required the complete and continuous concentration of all five members for a grand total of twenty-three minutes.
Shuuichi's record of keeping his attention happened to have been seventeen; his group had been forced to restart eight times and never managed to successfully cast the spell before the class period had ended. Shuuichi had been disappointed (after escaping his classmates who likely would have maimed the poor boy for wasting two hours of their life), and despite Professor Zhāng's best coaching of meditation techniques, Shuuichi was simply not made to sit still.
The older man gave a tired sigh as he sat down behind his desk, already reaching to grab a piece of blank parchment. He rarely felt his age, and he looked no different than he did ten years ago: the magic in his body had slowed the aging process down significantly. Dealing with Shuuichi, whether it be the old, obscenely happy Shuuichi or the new not-quite-as-happy Shuuichi, always wore him out. He twirled a plain muggle pen in one hand, rolling his fingers against the smooth plastic surface. He had never understood Western wizards and their quills that were messy, inconvenient, and quite honestly a pain to write with. Even in China still, some of his colleagues still insisted on using old and out-dated calligraphy brushes for all their reports that were written on large scrolls; Professor Zhāng was proud of his heritage and culture but calligraphy brushes and quills seemed to make life so much harder while a simple ball-point pen invented by, yes, a muggle, would not only save time but masses of ruined parchment. Save the rainforest, he thought wryly.
The wizard sighed again as he thought what to write, continuing to twirl the pen mindlessly as he mentally composed the letter he knew he was obligated to write. Finally, he paused, bringing his hand down to the parchment as he slowly and meticulously penned:
21st of May, Year 199X
Dear Madame Pomfrey:
It is with great happiness that I inform you of the return of your wayward apprentice and hope that our previous arrangement for his continued education in the field of medi-magic may be resumed…
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June 10, 199X
Professor Zhāng —I received your news with great enthusiasm and gladly accept Mr. Akino's return as my apprentice. I have arranged with Headmaster Dumbledore for Mr. Akino's transportation via a portkey that is enclosed in this correspondence, and I await his arrival at the appointed time. I do wish to inform Mr. Akino, however, that despite prolonged, unexpected, and unannounced absence will not be an excuse for any lapses in his training and that he has now be duly warned.Regrettably, our continent's political situation was grown darker in recent years, and I wish that Mr. Akino be properly informed of the situation he will be entering upon the requested continuation of his apprenticeship education…
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Shuuichi's hair color was completely natural. During his days as Shindou Shuuichi, understandably, no one had believed him. Even when the school had threatened suspension if Shuuichi didn't 're-dye' his hair 'back' to black, Shuuichi always maintained that his hair was naturally pink. The school had finally been forced to relent, with no one offering evidence to the contrary and no one willing to check. Later on, the question of Shuuichi's hair color was just another point of interest in his fans, a selling point, something that wasn't true but in the end, it didn't really matter if it was.
Even among Japanese wizards and witches, pink was a rare color. Japanese wizards and witches were known for their hair colors, ranging anywhere from a neon blue to a deep forest green. It was a sign of their heritage, a genetic predisposition unique among the Asian magical community. Among the Japanese youth, many were proud to display their natural hair color, claiming hair-dye to those non-magical.
Hiro's hair had only the slightest tinge of red, a red that Shuuichi knew for a fact was dyed; he'd helped Hiro dye it himself a year after they met and every time subsequently for the last three years. Suguru's had been a deep forest green that was also highly likely dyed; Shuuichi had never been close enough to their younger band member to know for sure, but the boy's history held up far too well under scrutiny to be false. Though if he truly was related to Tohma Seguchi, Shuuichi would probably never know for sure; the ex-Little Grasper members was undoubtedly one of the most cunning and devious he had ever met.
Shuuichi was proud of his hair color, both as a wizard and as a singer. It was something that he inherited from his maternal grandmother whose hair was the same shade of bubblegum pink. His mother's hair had been a fetching shade of aqua while his father's had been a deep blue; somehow, their genes carried on to recreate pink. How exactly this occurred, Shuuichi never managed to figure out; wizarding genetics were all over the place and only vaguely followed the patterns discovered through non-magical research.
And thus, Shuuichi and his decidedly bubblegum pink hair waltzed across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Wizarding and Witchcraft, a single bag slung over his shoulder and a carefully folded letters gripped in his left hand.
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Shuuichi was excited.
He could feel a happy nervousness fluttering in his stomach as he practically skipped while following a Professor McGonagall. He was finally seeing his mentor after four years, and he couldn't help but remember the fussing medi-witch fondly. Madame Pomfrey had only been at the Imperial School for a year while she did research on Eastern medicinal herbs and techniques, and said year hadn't even been a full year; she had alternated between Floo transfers and long-distant portkeys that were sporadic yet somehow allowed her to actually complete her research. When Shuuichi had originally applied for full apprenticeship under her instruction at the end of his Seventh year hoping that she could continue her routine of constant traveling, he had been denied; her research visa had long expired and she had already returned to Hogwarts full-time. It was only after much pleading, begging, and otherwise stalking that they came to an agreement: Shuuichi would be schooled in medi-magic by the local Healer as per normally regulated training, and Madame Pomfrey would receive constant reports of his progress. If he still wished to be her apprentice at the end of the two years and then after the following three years after his muggle schooling, she would accept him as her apprentice at Hogwarts.
Shuuichi had only seen her in person twice before he had rushed off to Japan (vocal Floo correspondence notwithstanding), both times over the summer when she had managed a recreation visa from China's magical ministry. She had spent her time criticizing and correcting all of Shuuichi's mistakes, not above hovering over him during assignments and bopping him harshly across the head at careless mistakes. When he had left for Japan, he had said a quick goodbye to her, fully expecting to see her in three years.
Shuuichi wilted a little as at the thought, still following the silent Professor McGonagall through the winding halls of Hogwarts. He had stopped paying attention to their direction after the fourth turn, knowing even if he tried, he would never be able to remember the location of the medical wing. The strict female professor moved briskly through the halls, not bothering to glance back at the pink-haired wizard who kept with her pace mindlessly.
Shuuichi truly hadn't meant to stay in Japan an extra year, even after he and Hiro had formed Bad Luck. He had honestly forgotten about magic for those three years, music having completely overcome his mind and, cliché-ly, soul. He loved medi-magic but it was singing that had truly wiped away any thoughts or doubts from his mind about his life and future. He remembered feeling vaguely guilty when they first created Bad Luck, knowing that after graduation, he'd be leaving Hiro as a one-man band. But as the years went by, the thought was pushed further and further into the back of his mind, disappearing in favor of lighter thoughts and plans.
The day of his graduation, when Hiro announced that he was going to stay with Bad Luck and Sakano offered them a deal, he had been elated at their future with Bad Luck. He had planned to leave three weeks after his graduation, enough time to fill out the proper paperwork and work his way through his old acquaintances to either say goodbye and/or modify their memories. It was cruel, in a way, to erase your existence from friends so callously, but it was how it was done.
But at the prospect of Bad Luck actually, truly, being something, all thoughts of leaving had been neglected, filed away at the back of his mind for something that wasn't important now because they had deadlines to fill and songs to write. When he met Eiri Yuki and fallen inexplicably head-over-heels, the thoughts flittered further away, settling in the deep recesses of his thoughts.
It was only when he arrived back 'home' three days before his planned departure did he remember what he was supposed to do. His 'parents' had collected the proper officials forms for Shindou's withdrawal, and his 'sister' had already started reviewing memory charms for the disappearance of her 'brother', Shindou Shuuichi. (Maiko had graduated the same year as Shuuichi but had been ahead by a year of her classmates. When applying for her muggle immersion schooling, she had chosen to start attending middle school, instead of the typical high school. She claimed that she enjoyed it; Shuuichi just thought she was crazy.)
Shuuichi remembered looking at the forms, his name and information all nearly filled out and just waiting for his last signatures to confirm his departure, and his wand that lied dormant at the back corner of his closet, and all that could come to his mind was Bad Luck and Yuki and he couldn't leave. He couldn't. He knew what he was leaving behind; he was leaving magic and Pomfrey-sensei and wanting to heal but just thinking about singing and cold gold eyes made leaving it all behind seem worthwhile.
And for a year, it had been. Bad Luck had skyrocketed in popularity, and Shuuichi had fallen into a complicated yet seemingly happy relationship with the cold romance novelist. He had met his music idol, and his not-family had been happy for him, filing the forms away and offering him a room regardless of the end of their legal contract. Maybe if he had not met Yuki, he would have left after just a few months; a band was just a band in the end, but Yuki was his boyfriend, his lover and someone who needed—albeit reluctantly—Shuuichi as just Shuuichi.
But between Yuki, Bad Luck, and Ryuuichi Sakuma, he hadn't regretted leaving magic behind for music and love. Not once.
Until he came home to find that his love hadn't really loved him and that maybe music couldn't heal him this time.
And as Shuuichi walked along the apathetic halls, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as he followed a complete stranger to a dear friend he hadn't seen in over four years, the tears that Shuuichi couldn't shed those weeks ago threatened to spill once again before Shuuichi huffed to himself quietly, wiped his eyes for his non-existent crying and moved on, the echoing footsteps of Shindou Shuuichi disappearing bit by bit in the hollow corridors.
——
Minerva McGonagall had long given up trying to understand the workings of Albus Dumbledore. She had worked under the man for the majority of her life, since she had first become a teacher almost fifty years prior, and despite seeing the man almost every subsequent day of her life, she could only fathom what went on in his mind.
She firmly believed that Albus Dumbledore was a genius, but sometimes, sometimes, she truly had to wonder if the old man had completely lost it.
She surreptitiously glanced at the boy—young man, she corrected herself mentally, he was twenty-four after all, despite that he barely looked over eighteen—who trailed after her obediently after her initial command to follow. The pink hair was outrageous, but she was well-versed enough in Eastern culture to understand that it was most likely natural and quite common. He was shorter than most of her students, no doubt credited to his heritage, and his expression was rapidly changing from excited to pensive and then every so forlorn. His head was bent downward, and his eyes trailed along the marble floor blankly, blatantly disregarding his surroundings as he followed her blindly.
Professor McGonagall resisted the urge to lecture the young man at his failure to map and note the passageway from the entrance to the Hospital Wing. The disapproving expression fell away quickly and she held back a sigh; it was not to be helped, he was still young and naturally absent-minded from what Poppy had told her about him. Not to mention, if she recalled, Asian magical schools were not housed in medieval castles as they were in Europe but often open ranges in the mountains, with open-air gardens and paths substituted for the hard stone hallways. Hogwarts was daunting when it came to hallways and staircases which were likely a far change from what the young wizard was used to, and she could only presume that he had given up trying to follow their path shortly after they had started the trek.
She gave the pink-haired boy another quick glance out of the corner of her eye and though back to what Poppy and Albus had informed her of the man. Akino Shuuichi, Japanese and Chinese descent, was expected to be at Hogwarts one year ago and failed to appear for an unknown and personal reason, and had a gift of medi-magic.
The last, and most important, piece of information was likely the only reason Albus had allowed such a young man to board at Hogwarts on the near outbreak of war against You-Know-Who. Medi-magic took a certain temperament among wizards and witches that was rare; few managed to get past the first stages and even fewer could become certified Healers.
And with the looming war ahead, they needed as many Healers as possible.
Professor McGonagall repressed a sigh as she continued walking, nearing the few turns before the Hospital Wing. This was going to be a long year.
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I almost ended in a cliffhanger, but decided this would be a nice place to cut off. As for the HP timeline, this should take place after OotP and AU as of HBP (though some plot points may be included). I proof read it once over, but if you find any mistakes, please feel free to point them out to me.
To clear up an issue a reviewer mentioned: Akino Shuuichi is 24 years old. In Asian magical schools, at 18 students stop attending basic classes and spend the next two years dealing with specialized training. After those two years, at age 20, they have the option of posing at a 15 or 16 year old to attend three years of high school. When Akino was 20, he became Shindou, age 15, who met Yuki at age 18 (real age: 23). The story starts with Akino, real age 24, posing as Shindou, age 19 (not 20 as previously mentioned in Chapter 1). Physical differences are negligible, as magic slows down the aging process enough to where it isn't overtly noticeable. Any question I will gladly answer through a note, email, or review.
Note: Title may change in near future so if you see a story that looks exactly like this one, it probably is this one.
Feed the review whore and be loved.