Chapter Text
Two uncertain, cloaked figures are standing outside a large shipping container, the oppressive summer heat beating down on them relentlessly. Their heavy, decidedly outdated clothing isn't doing much to alleviate the discomfort. The woman turns to her partner, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re certain this is where Albus said to go?”
The man returns her look with a pointed side-eye. “Quite,” he responds, gritting his teeth.
The woman sighs in resolve, stepping forward and knocking on the container’s door five times. It’s silent for a beat, until the muffled sound of footsteps can be heard from inside. Another beat passes. The pair wait apprehensively, impatient to finally meet the boy who Albus decided will be enrolling at their school. Soon enough, the door is pushed open, forcing the two figures to step back. The shipping container's interior is relatively dark, save for a few streams of light filtering into the space through high-up barred windows.
A boy—dark-haired and pale-skinned, covered in bandages—stands at the entrance. He regards the two suspiciously, one cold and calculated eye carefully skimming over their bodies. The bandages wrapped around his face stand out, both the adults’ eyes lingering on the strips of cloth for a few seconds too long than would normally be considered polite. The sight is a bit unnerving, causing the woman to shift in her stance.
“You’re…Dazai Osamu, I take it?” speaks the man.
The boy tilts his head curiously. “Will you try to kill me if I say yes?”
The response is startling, to say the least, and the woman's widened eyes flick over to her partner momentarily. Apart from his decidedly concerning words, the boy speaks in perfect english; a great relief for the two.
“I…no, young man. We are not here to harm you,” she explains reassuringly.
The boy looks oddly disappointed with her answer. He sighs, brushing a bandaged hand through visibly soft hair. “What are you here for then? I don’t have all day, you know.”
The man clears his throat, pushing his cloak out dramatically with two hands. The woman eyes her colleague, not used to the man expressing his unease so apparently.
“My name is Severus Snape. This is my colleague, Minerva McGonagall. It is our objective to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
"..."
A few silent beats pass as the boy—Dazai—blinks at them a few times. Then, he chuckles. A soft giggle turns into chaotic laughter as the boy keels over in front of them, hands meeting his knees as loud cackles rack his body. He’s gasping for air, tears brimming in his eyes as the two adults shift uncomfortably. It takes a minute for the boy to calm down, hands removing themselves from his black slacks as he straightens his back.
“Awh—hah, damn that’s good,” he says, still giggling. “Did that dumb shrimp hire you? I know Chuuya likes to mess with me but wizards? I didn’t know that slug was so creative! I mean—hah! He even got you to match your initials? Se...hah!—Severus Snape?”
Minerva sighs as Severus grumbles in offence, holding a hand up to regain attention from the still-giggling boy.
“We expected to receive this reaction. If you’d allow us inside, we could—”
She’s cut off by a sharp ring cutting through the air. The boy’s laughter subsides (rather quickly, Minerva might add) and he sighs as he fishes his hand into his pocket, pulling out a black flip phone; a device used strictly by muggles. He opens it, rolling his eyes and holding it to his ear.
“Yeah?” he answers in Japanese.
The two wizards eye each other, both silently wishing they had cast a verbal translation charm. The boy places a hand on his hip as he listens to whoever’s on the other end with a bored expression. After a few seconds, though, his eyes slide over to the pair. “You sure you’re not fakin’ me out right now?”
He grumbles a bit as the person on the other end continues to talk, tilting his head backwards in a show of boredom. Finally, he presses a button on the phone, sliding the device back into his pocket.
“Alright, fine, I guess you’re legit. You got a letter for me or something?” he asks. Minerva blinks in shock as Severus narrows his eyes.
“It’s not usually this easy to convince muggle-born wizards,” Snape states plainly.
Dazai waves his hand in dismissal of the comment. “I got confirmation from my caregiver, who I trust implicitly—" The two adults try to dismiss the sarcastic tone. "—so just get on with it.”
Minerva shrugs at Severus as he eyes her suspiciously. She reaches into her cloak, pulling out a letter and handing it to him.
“The letter will provide you with the list of books and supplies you are required to purchase before the beginning of the school year,” Minerva explains matter-of-factly. “There is also a list of additional books you may feel inclined to read in order to attain a more steady grasp on knowledge of the wizarding world. We do not normally accept people of your age, so your peers will be leagues ahead of you in terms of knowledge.”
Dazai nods understandingly, flashing the pair a smile. He takes the letter from Minerva’s hand before shoving it roughly in his pocket. “When do I leave?”
Severus takes the liberty of responding. “One of us will be back here in exactly two weeks. You should be ready by then,” he says bluntly.
Dazai nods once again, offering the two a small wave before promptly shoving the door closed in their faces. The pair eye each other. Severus takes the first step back, turning away as Minerva follows suit. “That was…”
“Peculiar?”
“Quite.”
—
Dazai listens as the two pairs of footsteps subside. With a forlorn sigh, he turns and plops down on a bed located in the far left corner of his shipping container. “What the hell is up with Mori and making my life difficult,” he complains aloud.
Dazai doesn’t like Mori, not one bit. Unlike Chuuya, whose presence Dazai can tolerate if need be, Dazai takes little interest in entertaining anything his boss says or does. He can, however, understand when something is important. Not important to Mori, but for the world in general. So, Dazai flicks on a lamp next to his bed and takes the letter out of his pocket. Opening it, he unfolds the paper and begins to read.
Dear Mr. Dazai,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth year. Below, you will see the list of supplies needed for the upcoming school year. There is an additional list to accommodate for the four previous years you have missed.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Supplies:
- Dress Robes
- The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk
Additional Supplies:
- Uniform
- 1 Wand
- 1 Cauldron
- 1 set of glass or crystal vials
- 1 Telescope
- 1 set of brass scales
- The Standard Book of Spells, Grades 1-4 by Miranda Goshawk
- A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
- The Monster Book of Monsters
- The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger
- You may also bring 1 pet (either a cat, toad or owl)
Dazai takes note of the long list of necessities, sighing and dragging a hand across his face. So much work.
Pulling out his phone, Dazai decides to dial Mori. The boss' previous explanation was incredibly brief, leaving Dazai with a multitude of things he needs to question and confirm. A few seconds of ringing go by before Mori picks up the phone.
“It’s quite unlike you to initiate a conversation with me, Dazai,” the man says coyly. Dazai rolls his eyes.
“The wizard-people are gone now,” Dazai starts, ignoring Mori’s comment. “What’s the mission?”
“You’re assuming I’m giving you one.” Mori chuckles.
Dazai groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just tell me what I need to do. There’s no way in hell you’re sending me off to some freakshow school just because.”
Dazai hears Mori sigh. “You’ll arrive at Hogwarts in two weeks' time. It is located in Scotland,” Mori begins. “I want you to monitor any and all activity you observe.”
Dazai raises a brow at this. “Is there a reason?”
“The wizarding world, although separate from our own, has…similar issues.”
“Elaborate.” Dazai requests bluntly. Mori chuckles.
“There is a dark order of wizards called the ‘Death Eaters,’ characterised by strong beliefs in blood purity.” Dazai listens intently. “The group is a violent one, and there has been recently observed activity that indicates trouble at hand.”
“What am I supposed to do about that? Can I even use magic, or whatever it is they do?” Dazai questions impatiently.
“Although our worlds are separate, abilities and magic are closely related, though not reciprocated in the same ways.” Dazai narrows his eyes. Mori is testing him. The boss has given Dazai one piece of the puzzle, leaving him to figure out the rest.
“You’re saying… ability users can use magic but not the other way around?”
“Precisely.”
"That won't work with my ability, though," Dazai comments, shifting in his place on the bed.
"As I said, abilities and magic are only closely related. I don’t expect you should run into any trouble regarding your gift, Dazai," Mori explains calmly.
Dazai squints, still not entirely convinced. He doesn't make that known, however, instead opting to move onto his next topic of interest. “And Chuuya?” He asks (with a bit more urgency than he would've liked).
“Chuuya is still on a diplomacy mission overseas, and will be for some time. I’ll have him join you next year.”
Dazai tenses at that. A year in an unfamiliar place full of potential danger…without Chuuya? Don’t get him wrong, Dazai hates that slug. But they’re still supposed to be partners. What’s he supposed to do if he can’t annoy his dog to death? He might just have to kill himself.
“Can’t you just call off his mission?” Dazai presses. “Surely this is more important than diplomacy with some foreign nobody organisation?”
Mori chuckles again. That chuckle is starting to annoy Dazai. “I assure you, all will go according to plan.”
It’s what Dazai expected, then. There’s a specific, albeit frustrating reason that Mori isn’t assigning Chuuya on this mission just yet. Most likely, he wants Dazai to attain an established presence at the school before his partner shows up. It's strategic, he'll admit. Giving Dazai the opportunity to put together the puzzle mentally, by himself and without any distractions. Then, when the time is right, the brute force half of their duo will be introduced to the scene.
That bothers Dazai, more than he's inclined to acknowledge. It’s not like he wants to go on missions with Chuuya. He definitely doesn’t like it either. Dazai is just more efficient that way. That’s all.
—
“A whole ass year?”
Dazai hums, lounging on a chair at Bar Lupin. Chuuya’s voice sounds over the phone he holds to his ear.
“Aww, is Chibi gonna miss me?” Dazai teases. He smirks as he hears muffled grumbling from his partner.
“As if,” he responds, voice laced with feigned hostility. “What’s this about, anyways?”
“Some weirdo purist wizards need to be monitored, Mori wants to get involved for some reason.”
There’s a pause as the call goes silent.
“The fuck do you mean wizards?”
Dazai giggles. Grasping the glass in front of him, he takes a small sip of his whiskey before responding. “Mmm...I think I’ll leave that to Chibi to figure out!”
Dazai takes another sip, relishing in the way Chuuya begins to curse him out. This is how their conversations always go; it's a rare occurrence for Dazai to provide Chuuya with answers to the latter’s questions, and it should always be expected that Chuuya will begin screaming profanities at one point or another. Dazai finds comfort in that fact, though it’s unlikely that he’ll ever admit it. Once Chuuya either gets tired or runs out of creative insults (Dazai thinks it could be both) he lets out a rough exhale.
“Wizards or not, I’m not comfortable with this.”
Dazai swirls the whiskey in his glass as he considers Chuuya’s words. “Yeah?” He drawls. “Don’t want your partner going on a solo mission?”
Chuuya scoffs. “I meant that I’m not comfortable with the lack of a clear objective. Something feels off.”
“Something is,” Dazai agrees, tone becoming serious. “But I think this mission is necessary.”
Dazai sits back in his chair as Chuuya grumbles. It’s not unlike him to trust Dazai’s judgement in these scenarios, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever happy about it. Dazai can practically feel Chuuya give in through the phone.
“Fine, but don’t do anything dumb until I get there,” he growls. Dazai smirks and gulps down the rest of his drink, standing from his chair. He listens (not fondly) as Chuuya continues listing the things Dazai can't do while his partner is away. “And make sure to find someone that’ll cook for you. Lazy bastard.”
Dazai breathes out a laugh at his partner’s words. He shrugs his coat closer to his body as the cool air of Yokohama’s nighttime greets him.
“I’m pretty sure residence is included, so if they don’t provide me with food you should sue!” Dazai suggests.
Chuuya scoffs. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” A pause. “So…um—”
A smile grows on Dazai’s face as Chuuya hesitates. “Mhm?”
“Shut the fuck up, nevermind.”
“Awh, did Chuuya wanna end off with some heartfelt words?” Dazai drawls. “Is that it? Hm?”
Beep!
Chuuya hung up. Dazai pouts as he shoves his phone into his pocket, continuing his walk through the streets of Yokohama. It’s raining and his hair is dripping wet, but he doesn’t care much. Part of him is desperate to hear what Chuuya was going to say. The other part doesn’t feel like dealing with what it might imply.
Dazai allows those thoughts to slip away from him as he continues his walk back home (home is a shipping container, but that’s irrelevant). Other thoughts come to him instead. It’s been a week since those borderline-cosplayer wizards showed up at his doorstep, and he hasn’t heard a word from Mori since. Dazai will always act confident with Chuuya, but he isn’t currently so convinced on the inside.
Truth be told, he doesn’t think Mori’s ever been this secretive about a mission, and that's saying something. While Mori is never really one for an explanation, he always makes sure to give Dazai sufficient information—at least to the point where it's easy for him to make accurate inferences. This time, it feels like Mori is intentionally withholding information for a reason that’s definitely beyond the younger's paygrade. He could just be doing this to piss Dazai off—Dazai wouldn’t put it past him. He also may not have the proper knowledge to provide Dazai with anything else, but that’s highly unlikely. Mori will never risk a mission going sideways simply because he wasn't knowledgeable enough. So, that leaves only a third possibility.
This mission is a damn learning exercise. With a few snags along the way, of course, as Mori definitely takes these “purist wizards” seriously, but a learning exercise nonetheless.
Dazai sighs, dragging his feet along the pavement. The rain is coming down harder now, and he is—admittedly—becoming very quickly fatigued.
A few more minutes pass until Dazai reaches his shipping container, opening the door and stepping inside at a leisurely pace. He opts against turning on his lamp, instead changing out of his wet clothes into drier, more comfortable ones.
Ah.
His bandages are also wet.
Dazai sighs, perhaps for the millionth time this night, and begins unwrapping the waterlogged cloth. He bundles up the cloth and discards it in a trash can by the wall, rummaging through his desk drawer (where various magical books are clogging up space). Taking hold of two fresh rolls of bandages, Dazai grimaces as he begins to wrap the bandages around his arms, eyes running blankly over the scar-littered limbs. The bandages cling to his skin weirdly—courtesy of the dewy tinge left on it by the rainwater—but he's much too tired to care.
It takes him a few minutes, but Dazai eventually manages to rewrap his entire body, leaving only the light blue tee and grey sweats to put on before he can finally go to sleep. He collapses onto his bed once the clothes are on, eyeing the stacks of books on his desk. Dazai has spent the past week going over the material suggested to him. Technically, the books are supposed to be purchased after he gets to London. Mori, however, had different plans. About an hour after the wizards left, two boxes were dropped off outside Dazai’s container. Both were filled to the brim with books. He’s gotten through half, and is currently debating whether or not he should read anymore tonight.
Maybe not, he thinks, eyes falling shut. He’s splayed out, an arm and a leg hanging off his bed. He doesn’t care much, breathing becoming slowed as his mind slips into unconsciousness.
—
Dazai is rolling on the floor, letting out groans of protest. His phone is resting on the bed above him, an annoyed Chuuya yelling over the device which Dazai has regrettably left on speaker.
“You’ve been saying you’re gonna finish packing for over two hours now,” the ginger chides.
“But I’m so used to my loyal dog doing everything for me,” Dazai whines, referencing the bet they made when the two had first met. His hands drag over his face as he lets out an exaggerated sob.
“Fuck you.”
Dazai smirks at the comment, refraining from offering his partner a response. The silence must prompt Chuuya to realise exactly what Dazai is thinking, causing the aggressive ginger to cuss out the younger (albeit by a few months) boy.
“I swear I need to get a restraining order on you,” Chuuya grumbles. Dazai lets out another mock sob in response, blabbering on about how Chuuya needs to be an obedient dog and stop acting up. The shrimp is being awfully rude, afterall. Chuuya’s responses are ones which Dazai expects, letting out soft giggles as the older boy shouts profanities over the phone.
At some point, Dazai gets bored and begins to actually be productive. He has two suitcases open in front of him, one of them already full. He crosses his legs as he begins to fill the second one with various items of clothing. He’s wearing his usual work uniform, save for Mori’s black coat which is draped over Dazai’s bed.
“Can we stay in contact while you’re there?” Chuuya asks after a pause.
“Mhm,” responds Dazai. “Not sure how good the reception will be, but I think Mori got me a special accommodation so that I can bring my phone.”
Dazai hears Chuuya exhale softly. “I’m still a little concerned, you know.”
“Is Chibi worried about me?”
“I swear, we’ve been past this—” Chuuya cuts himself off. “You wanna at least explain to me what the hell a wizard is?”
Oh, right. Dazai never properly explained the mission to Chuuya.
Sucks for you, he thinks.
...But he might as well let Chuuya in on some of the details, seeing as the ginger slug will be joining him soon enough
“From what Mori told me, they’re like an offshoot of ability users,” he explains, simplifying the complicated history of magic for his partner. “All ability users are able to use magic, but that doesn’t go both ways. The wizarding world, as I’ve read, concealed themselves from the rest of the world a long time ago.”
That prompts an intrigued noise from Chuuya. “There a reason for that?”
“A long history of war between wizards and non-wizards, who they call ‘muggles,’ by the way.”
The two go back and forth as Dazai continues to fill his suitcase, Chuuya asking questions as the former responds. He's managed to finish the criminal amount of books Mori gave him, every last bit of knowledge imprinted into his brain. All that's left to do now is apply that knowledge.
That fact is something Dazai has been painfully aware of since Mori first forced this mission upon him. He now faces the annoyingly tedious task of assimilating into a society of what he believes to be less powerful ability users. It isn't the magic or the potential danger that's causing Dazai stress, no. It's the concept of attending a school that's been catalysing the slight jolt in his stomach at the mere thought of the prospect (but he's not anxious or anything. Dazai doesn't get anxious).
"And the subjects of our objective?" Chuuya asks, breaking Dazai free from the spiral his thoughts were about to go down. "The what, 'purist wizards', as you called them?"
Dazai grins at his partner’s words. The two are complete opposites when it comes to worrying about missions. Dazai is more faceted, taking into account the high levels of deception and acting they’ll need to utilise in order to avoid suspicion. Chuuya, on the other hand, jumps straight to the action. "That's the one thing I haven't been able to learn about."
This confuses Chuuya, the boy making a noise indicating that his interest has been piqued.
Dazai can imagine him curled up on a chair, knees pulled up to his chest and phone to his ear. His hair pushed out of his face into a small, messy bun. A few strands of hair, though, would be too short, and would instead curl around his cheekbones and jawline, framing his delicate features. Chuuya expresses himself very outwardly, and Dazai's almost certain that his head has perked up just now, similar to a bunny sensing danger.
"Nothing popped up in the billion books you've subjected yourself to reading? Thought you didn’t like pain."
Dazai rolls his eyes. He's nearly done packing, counting down the minutes until his conversation gets rudely interrupted by a magical school staff member.
"No, nothing," he sighs. "And it was Mori who subjected me to this, for the record, but he’s not being very helpful either. He's been all vague this whole time."
The vagueness from their boss isn’t something that either of the two boys characterise as new. Chuuya grumbles nonetheless. "So you know about pretty much everything except the mission's objective?"
"Exactly!" Dazai exclaims excitedly. Chuuya breathes out a laugh.
...Wait.
Chuuya...laughed?
"Oh? What was that, Chuuuuya?"
"I choked." He deadpans, though the mild tones of embarrassment present in his voice are impossible to hide from his observant partner.
Dazai giggles at this, prompting another steady stream of creative insults from the ginger. It's routine for Dazai to tease Chuuya anytime he catches him in an act of softness. Especially anytime he catches him outwardly enjoying Dazai's company.
"Stupid, shitty Dazai," Chuuya hisses. That's the last thing he says before he promptly hangs up.
Dazai smirks to himself as he finishes packing his belongings. He thinks he might kill himself if he’s unable to wear his own clothes, and he’s 100% certain that that’s exactly the case. Dazai stands, dragging his luggage to the door. That leaves him time to plop down onto his bed and ponder the coming year.
There’s no doubt that Dazai is fully capable of looking after himself. The problem arises in the fact that he simply doesn’t want to. He finds this mission a little dumb, to be honest—the learning exercise part, to be exact. As far as Dazai can tell, there’s nothing stopping Mori from sending him and Chuuya over there and having them take down the enemy wizard organisation. He can very well do that if wishes. But, it is like Mori to torment Dazai, and depriving him of his only source of entertainment—Chuuya—for an entire year will do just that. Maybe Dazai can at least create some sort of entertainment for himself while he’s there without his ginger dog. He’s sure it’d be quite simple to torment the students at Hogwarts. Perhaps he could scare some of them with (not so) made up tales about his life? Pulling a few pranks doesn’t sound so—
Dazai’s thoughts are cut off by a loud knock at the door. The sound reverberates throughout the shipping container’s metallic structure, causing Dazai to sigh. He rises from the bed slowly, grasping his coat and slipping it on. He takes his time as he pads over to the door.
Opening the door reveals a familiar figure on the other side. The same professor from two weeks ago (Severus Snape, was it?) is standing outside, looking at Dazai with an unreadable expression. Interesting.
The professor is dressed exactly how he’d been when Dazai first saw him. He's covered head to toe in long, black robes, the only skin visible being his pale hands and face. His hair offers no contrast, the long and greasy strands framing a bored face.
Not much of a fashion lover, it seems. At least the other lady—McGonagall—had some texture.
Chuuya’ll have a field day with this, Dazai thinks amusedly.
The professor wastes no time. "I expect you're ready to go?" He asks with a deadpan tone. Dazai plasters on a sly smile and nods his head.
“Yup!”
The professor’s eyes flick to the inside of the shipping container.
“Are your parents not here to see you off?” He asks, just as Dazai is about to bend to down to take hold of his two suitcases. Dazai pauses his motion, straightening his back to reply.
“Hm? Oh, no Mori’s busy.” He replies, quickly covering up the fact that he does, in fact, live alone at the young age of fifteen. The professor pauses for a moment before replying.
“Interesting.”
Dazai tilts his head in feigned confusion, turning away to take hold of his luggage. A slight shiver of uneasiness runs down the boy’s spine, courtesy of the professor’s beady eyes tracking his every move.
“Are we taking a plane, or is there some cool magical method we’re gonna use to get there?” He asks curiously. He isn’t curious. Through his extensive reading, Dazai has learned all about magical forms of transportation. Apparating, portkeys and the Knight Bus to name a few. Snape raises an eyebrow.
“I’ll be apparating us to London,” Snape replies curtly. Dazai blinks at him.
“Apparating..?”
The tired look Dazai receives from the wizard causes a giddy feeling to bubble in his chest. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. “It’s a form of magical transportation. Please hold on tightly.”
The man holds his arm out in Dazai’s direction expectantly. Dazai looks down at the heavy bags in his hands and back up at the wizard. The latter barely suppresses an eyeroll.
“Your bags will be brought to you separately.”
Dazai nods sheepishly, placing his bags back on the floor. He steps forward and gingerly grabs the older’s still-outstretched arm. The black cloth is rough, though Dazai is half-used to that thanks to his bandages. He steps outside fully, the summer sun making his eyes fall shut.
It was the previous night that Dazai removed the bandages from his face, the feeling of cool air hitting its right side a foreign one.
Mori suggested the removal; the bandages wrapped around Dazai’s limbs would raise enough questions themselves. Dazai was reluctant, arguing with his boss for a solid thirty minutes before finally giving in. It’s not like Dazai doesn’t understand that people leading regular lives (or as regular as they can be when surrounded by magic) may feel pity or even suspicion when greeted with a half-bandaged face. He just simultaneously doesn’t want the bandages to have parted from his skin. If Snape notices the difference, he doesn’t make that known to Dazai.
Not that there’s anything I can do about it now, he thinks, silently cursing Mori for the inconvenience. This whole thing is Mori’s fault, after all.
As if noticing Dazai’s discomfort, the wizard softens his gaze ever so slightly. Just enough to cause the boy even more discomfort, albeit for a different reason.
Don’t pity me, he thinks, eyes falling shut as he feels the apparation begin.