Gundam Siege: A Gundam Wing Harry Potter Crossover

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: Gah, tis the season for madness…

AN: And we've come to day 10, and you believe it… two days till Christmas. Anyway, this chapter kinda took on a life of its own, so I won't exactly apologize, but maybe a little. With that, we'll move on to the reason for the season, right, or at least why you're all here.

Chapter 7: Letters and Quidditch

The following morning, Harry woke early. He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for his early rising; it could be that the room was unfamiliar, or that there were several important matters on his mind, or it might be the fact that his boyfriend was breathing lightly in his ear as he slept spooned up behind him. Whatever the reason, he was glad he was awake. This way he could get back to Gryffindor tower without arising suspicion.

He carefully untangled himself from Draco's arms, managing not to wake him, and finally took in the room they were in. Directly across from the bed was the door leading into the hallway. On the left hand wall was a magnificent fireplace, burning merrily in the early morning chill. An ornate rug covered the floor in front of it, all the way to a plush sofa some four feet away, the one they'd utilized the night before. To the right was an oak wardrobe and an open door into an opulent bathroom.

He made his way over to the bathroom, his bladder making its usual morning demands. When he returned, he was happy to see the blond still sleeping peacefully. He decided to let him be, he looked like he could use it. Instead, he looked around and wished he'd brought his bag with him so he could write to Remus.

Almost as if the room had read his thoughts, an ornate oak writing desk materialized to the left of the fireplace. He smiled as he made his way over to it, he loved magic so much. He opened the drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink and then sat down to compose his letter.

Dear Remus,

I know I haven't written and for that, I am truly sorry. Sirius' death has been hard, and I can only imagine what it's been like for you. I wish you would talk to me about it, we both loved him and I'm sure we both miss him equally. Just know I'm here for you if you want to talk.

On another note, I have a question for you. Do you know if my parents had another kid? The only reason I'm asking is because there's a new student here this year claiming to be James Evan Potter. He claims that according to the FRA (the Family Reconstruction Act, in case you didn't know, it's a Muggle thing), he's my brother. I don't know if I should believe him and I don't know who else to ask.

Anyway, I hope you are well, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

Harry

He had just finished rolling it up and sealing it with his wand, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned back into the embrace and turned his head to accept the kiss that was being offered.

"Writing to Lupin?" Draco asked, placing his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah," the Gryffindor replied. "I should probably go send it and then head to breakfast. We don't want anyone to get suspicious after all."

"I wish we could stay here all day," the blond sighed. "But sadly, you're right. We'll meet up again next week, as promised."

"Yeah, same time, same place," the raven nodded. "Unless something comes up, but we'll let each other know if that happens."

"Till then," the blond leaned in and stole another kiss.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "I'll see you around. Right now, I've got to go find an owl to send this letter."

"What's wrong with Hedwig?" Draco asked, his hand on the door handle.

"Nothing," the Boy-Who-Lived shook his head. "I sent her to Konoha. I honestly didn't think about Remus, so I wrote to Naruto, asking for advice."

"You would," his boyfriend chuckled. "Use Aries, I don't plan on using him this week."

"Thanks, Dray," Harry gave him a quick kiss and opened the door. "I'll see you later."

He slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and disappeared from view, leaving the Slytherin to find his own way back to his common room.

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As Hermione had predicted, the sixth years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. The only ones who didn't seem to have problems were the new students, and then it only seemed to be Wufei because Harry had caught the other four turning to him for help occasionally. Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo; but he knew that they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

"We've got to go and explain," said Hermione, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

Harry didn't answer as he was distracted by the entrance of his boyfriend and the memories of the past night they'd spent in the Room of Requirements.

"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron. "And we're supposed to be practicing the Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"

"We didn't hate it!" said Hermione.

"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the skrewts," said Ron darkly. "And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear him going on about his gormless brother—we'd have been teaching Grawp to tie his shoelaces if we'd stayed."

"I hate not talking to Hagrid," said Hermione, looking upset.

"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured her, coming back to the conversation. He too was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without Grawp in their lives. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied." He felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle of his Captaincy. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular; it's you! You've never been more interesting and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'—well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

Harry was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and rainy.

"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the mark on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway…"

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

"I'm tall," said Ron inconsequentially.

"But I have a boyfriend," Harry protested quietly.

"No one knows that," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two haven't really broadcasted it about, for obvious reasons. Besides, aren't you having issues with him right now?"

"Yeah, come on, Harry," Ron interjected, "haven't you gotten over this phase yet?"

"Look," Harry sighed, he couldn't go into this with them, especially not in the middle of the Great Hall, "let's just talk about something else, okay?"

The post owls arrived, almost as if on cue, swooping down through the rain-flicked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry had received no mail since the start of term; even when Aries had returned earlier in the week, he had been disappointed. He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a rather large scroll. A moment later, one of the school owls landed beside her carrying a large, square package at the same time an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel first to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out—"

He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!" The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, "Reparo!"

There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.

"I'll give Slughorn back the new one, he can't complain, it cost nine Galleons."

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a fourth owl landing in front of her carrying that days copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page, as Harry relieved Hedwig of her burden. He broke the seal and six smaller scrolls rolled onto the table in front of him.

"What are those?" Ron frowned at the strange occurrence. "Who sent them?"

"I'm assuming it's from Naruto," the bespectacled teen picked one up and read the name scrawled across it before hastily shoving it into his pocket and picking up the next.

"No," he frowned as he opened it, "this one's from Kiba."

"Why would you be expecting something from them?" Hermione asked, distracted from her paper.

"I wasn't expecting anything from anyone but Naruto," Harry shook his head. "I wrote to him at the start of term, asking for advice on what to do about Trowa."

"Oh," she nodded. "Well, what do they say?"

"'Harry,'" he read quietly, so only the three of them could hear. "'It's been awhile. How're things? How are Fred and George? Have you defeated Voldemort yet? I miss you guys. You should write more, or better yet, come and visit! We'd love to have you. Don't know where we'd put you, but I'm sure we'd figure something out. Anyway, Shino and Akamaru say hi. Tell the others hi, too. Kiba.'"

"Wow," Ron shook his head, "I'd almost forgotten all about them. Maybe we should tell Fred and George to write him. What's the next one say?"

"Well," Harry picked up the next one after slipping Kiba's into his bag, "let's see. 'Harry, Wow. Damn it's good to hear from you. Things are going great here. I haven't become Hokage yet, Lady Tsunade says I need training in politics first, but it'll be soon. As for Neji, I'll let him tell you as he says he's gonna write you too. Now, about this brother of yours. You kinda didn't give me much. I mean, it could be a huge trap set up by your enemies, but why would they do that? According to Shika it's an odd play for someone who has come after you so directly so many times in the past (and you really don't argue with Shika, he's a genius when it comes to strategy). So, I say get to know him. What can it hurt? You and I, we don't have family, so take what you can get. He could be the best thing that ever happened to you, especially after what happened to your godfather.

Now, about Draco… you could always smack him upside the head or kick his ass. It's the best method for knocking sense into bastards like that. And either he'll come around on his own or you drag him back kicking and screaming. Anyway, I should probably wrap this up. And don't hesitate to ask anything, even if it seems stupid (I may yell at you if you do, but sometimes that's what you need). Also, if you feel that you truly need us, don't hesitate to call, Hermione should still have that summoning paper. Later, Naruto.

P.S. Ya know squirt, the brat has a good head on his shoulders, so take his advice to heart, okay? Also, tell Sevvie I said hi. Kyu.'"

"You know," Hermione frowned. "I hadn't even thought of the new students being sent by Voldemort but it is a possibility."

"I hadn't either," Harry shook his head. "But I kinda agree with Shikamaru, it seems unlikely. Anyway, shall we continue?" he picked up the next scroll. "'Harry, Don't listen to Naruto. Just because your life is not as bad as others does not mean you do not have your own problems. Get to know your brother. Family is important. I know I would still be lost without the support of my own siblings. Speaking of my siblings, they are heading to England so they will more than likely stop in for a visit. Look for them in the coming months. Gaara.'"

"Why would he tell you not to listen to Naruto and then give you the exact same advice?" Ron stared at the letter incredulously.

"It's… complicated," Harry shook his head, reaching for the next one. He broke the seal and quickly slipped it inside his pocket, before moving on to the next. "'Harry, I am well, thank you for asking. I feel that any advice I give you will seem redundant, but I will say this: talk to them. Talk to this brother of yours. Talk to Draco. Keep the lines of communication open. Don't let things bottle up inside. It will eat you up inside. On another note, don't forget to keep up with your studies. And I wish you the best in another note, don't forget to keep up with your studies. And I wish you the best in everything. And don't forget about us, we will always be here for you if you need us. Neji.'"

"So that would make this one from Sakura," Hermione indicated the final scroll.

"Most likely," he shrugged and unrolled it. "'Harry, Hermione, and Ron, How are all of you? I hope all your injuries healed well. It was nice to hear that you wrote. Anyway, take care of yourselves. Don't do anything reckless, or stupid. Sakura.'"

"I wonder why it seems that some of them knew exactly what you wrote and others just knew that you wrote?" the bushy haired witch frowned.

"Probably because Naruto only told the others I wrote," the bespectacled teen shook his head, "while Neji was probably there when he read it. Though, I'm not sure about how Gaara found out."

"I suppose that makes sense," she picked up the newspaper once again.

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As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up from first years, who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The latter including a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately from the Hogwarts express.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Harry, taking note of the breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all three goal hoops without moving.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

"Right," said Harry. "Well… if you wait over there…"

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because they were both "old Sluggy's" favorites.

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: The first ten was made up of first years and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

The third group had a pile up halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks, except for three of the four new sixth years who flew with such ease it almost seemed like they weren't using brooms at all and made Harry want to grab his Firebolt and join them in the air. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, "leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; Trowa Barton, or James Potter, or whatever he wanted to be called, who had flown with an acrobatic grace Harry had never seen before and his aim was spot on, not missing a single shot he took; and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition, except Trowa, and scored seventeen goals to boot. Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way for the Keepers I'll hex you," he bellowed.

Fred and George had nothing on his new Beaters, and he couldn't be more pleased with his choices: Duo Maxwell's chaotic style made him as unpredictable as any Bludger; and Heero Yuy's precision and aim when redirecting them was almost scary. All in all, the pair of them were a force to be reckoned with and Harry felt confident they would be a perfect asset to the team. They now joined Katie, Trowa, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.

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At a quarter after eight, Harry made his way out of Gryffindor Tower and down to the dungeons for his detention. He arrived at exactly eight thirty, but was surprised when he saw not Snape but the new assistant Defense teacher, Professor Uchiha or rather Itachi-Sensei.

"Where is Snape?" Harry asked confused.

"Professor Snape had another matter to attend to," the assistant professor answered calmly. "Now, I believe you have your task, so get to it."

The teen huffed but went over to the nearest table, where the buckets of flobberworms were already set out. With a scowl, he began the sorting process.

"This is fucking disgusting," he muttered quietly in Japanese. At least with Snape not supervising, he could get away with talking quietly. Or so he thought.

"I would watch your language if I were you, Mr. Potter," the quiet voice of the assistant Professor cut easily across the empty room.

"What?" Harry asked, startled.

"Just because you can speak a different language, doesn't mean that others do not understand it," dark eyes met green. "Now, I don't care how disgusting you find the task, you earned yourself this detention, so I suggest you get back to it."

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

Without another word, he turned back to the flobberworms and got back to work. The silence continued for quite awhile, and Harry had almost forgotten the teacher was even present. That was, until the other spoke again.

"Are you almost finished, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh, yeah," the teen nodded, just realizing he could see the bottom of the buckets.

"Good," he slowly pushed to his feet and made his way over. "While you finish, I have a few questions for you."

"O-okay," Harry hesitated slightly.

"First of all," Itachi stopped beside him and leaned his hip casually against the table, "how do you know Kakashi Hatake?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," the bespectacled teen shook his head.

"I believe you do," he countered evenly. "His chakra signature is all over you, especially in your mind."

"Wait," Harry held up his hand, flinging a few flobberworms in its wake, "are you saying you're a shinobi?"

"I see you do know what I'm talking about," a smirk flitted across his features. "However, I believe our time is up. I'll let you go for now, but we will discuss this at a later point in time. Have a good night, Harry."

Harry gave him a strange look before washing up and leaving the dungeon. As he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind was reeling with what just happened. The questions swirled endlessly and without direction in his head, but he knew one thing for certain, he needed to talk to Hermione as soon as possible.

Ammie: Okay, so there it is. I do have a question for all of you, if the story presents an opportunity, would you all like to see Harry get with Itachi? If it doesn't work out, it won't matter, but I will take suggestions into consideration. Anyway, please let me know what you think.