Chapter 3 - The Great Hall

The spirit's gaze swept the dark station, quickly reassessing his position and deciding on his next course of action. Many of the students, chatting up a storm like they hadn't a care in the world, seemed to know where they were going and headed off from the platform.

The spirit supposed his next step was simply to follow them, but he was distracted as he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

A glimmering lantern seemed to be floating in midair through the darkness toward them, a little above their heads. The spirit took a sharp breath as just behind the point of light, he suddenly made out the features of a great hulking form, one enormous hand holding the lantern aloft. A giant at least nine feet tall towered above them.

Likely a guard of some kind. The spirit had to fight not to take a step back-although he doubted such a guard could have any way of knowing he did not belong among this party, the man made a formidable sight.

However, some of the spirit's awe receded as the man, in a surprisingly cheerful and friendly tone, called out, "Firs' years! All firs' years, over here!"

Many of the students paid the giant no mind and kept right on going their own way, but a collection of children, all of whom had to be at least five or six years younger than his host, began to form a little assembly around him. Many were shivering slightly, glancing around nervously and not looking anywhere near as at ease as the older ones wandering from the platform in loose-knit groups.

The spirit gathered that the children, the "first years," were new to this magical school, perhaps to this magical society itself. The spirit would no doubt learn a great deal were he to go with this group; after all, their ignorance would be assumed, and likely many basic aspects of the society would be explained without the need to ask.

However, it seemed all the first-timers were quite young, too young for him to blend in among them unnoticed. He would have to go with the others.

The spirit slipped into the midst of the mass migration, and it wasn't long before he saw where they were headed. Hundreds of carriages were lined up on a dirt lane and students piled into them by the handful.

The spirit approached one that appeared unoccupied. However, he hesitated, his eye slipping to the creatures harnessed in front.

The beasts, while vaguely resembling horses, looked like something straight out of a nightmare, with black skeletal bodies, leathery bat-like wings, and empty white eyes.

The spirit was fascinated. The creatures could have almost passed for a card in his own deck. He approved.

Without really thinking about it, the spirit raised a hand to stroke the nearest dragon-like snout.

"You probably shouldn't do that."

The spirit hesitated and turned to see the speaker. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as he recognized the bushy-haired girl from the train.

"I mean, they're not supposed to be dangerous," she said, "but they eat raw meat and, well, you know."

The spirit couldn't stop the corner of his mouth flickering upward at this, even more intrigued now.

"Are you saying they may eat my hand if I'm not careful?" he said, still smiling.

"Um, well…" She frowned, looking a little put off by his morbid sense of humor.

The spirit turned back to the nearest beast and gazed into the distant milky orbs. "They are certainly remarkable creatures, aren't they?" he said softly. "Beautiful, even." Again, he knew that intentionally trying to creep the girl out was not exactly keeping a low profile, but he couldn't resist amusing himself just a little.

"I don't know," she said. "I can't see them myself. I've seen pictures, but it's probably not the same."

This bit of information interested the spirit, but before he could fish for more explanation, a voice called from a way off.

"Oi! Hermione! Are you coming or aren't you? We're taking off." The spirit caught sight of a red-headed teenager sticking his head out a carriage door a hundred yards back down the lane.

"Just a second, Ron," the girl yelled back. "Got to go," she told the spirit. "Nice meeting you." She started to turn, then paused a moment. "What year are you in? You're not in our year." Her eyes lingered on his scarf and wild white hair as though to say, I think I'd remember if you were.

The spirit shrugged. He remembered the comment the girl from the station had made, about him being a transfer student, and considered using the story. However, he preferred to collect a little more information before he committed to a particular lie, so he said with a mysterious smile, "I imagine that if you had seen me, you wouldn't remember it. Most people don't."

"I don't know," she said. "I have a pretty good memory." She was studying him closely now.

"Hermione!"

"All right!" she shouted. "See you," she-Hermione, he supposed-said, looking apologetic, and started to turn away.

The spirit's eye flickered to the carriage he had been intending to enter himself, but by then a large group of students had slipped by him and were piling into it. The rest of the lane was nearly empty now.

The spirit made a split-second decision, and followed after her. "Excuse me," he said, putting on his host's best polite voice. "Would you mind terribly if I tagged along with you? There aren't many carriages left."

The girl hesitated. "Sure, go ahead."

The spirit slipped into the carriage behind her, and took the seat nearest the cabin door.

Inside, the spirit found the round-faced boy he'd seen before on the train, as well as a couple of new faces. All the occupants were looking at him with varying reactions to his intrusion in their cliquish little group.

The round-faced boy was looking nervous; he kept shooting glances at his scarf, then hurriedly looking away again as though realizing he was being rude. No doubt his host would have gotten along well with that one. Then there was a dreamy-looking girl with a stick behind her ear and strange, vibrantly colored glasses. She gazed at the spirit vaguely, as though her mind was on something else and his appearance had only barely disturbed her thoughts.

The last person was the redhead who'd been calling. He glared at the spirit with undisguised suspicion and annoyance. The spirit ignored him.

"Oh," said the girl suddenly. "I haven't introduced myself. My name is Hermione Granger, I'm in sixth year. This is Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and the friendly one over there is Ron Weasley. And… you are…?"

"Pleased to meet you," he said. "My name is Ryou Bakura."

"Oh? That's an unusual name," she said.

The spirit decided it would be best if he took control of the conversation at this point. After all, if he allowed this Hermione to direct the flow of talk, she would no doubt get to asking all the polite questions about himself and where he was from, what 'year' he was in, what his hobbies were, questions that to answer may well reveal his ignorance in ways he couldn't possibly anticipate.

"I suppose it is. But, ah, Hermione. I must say I am curious about the animals outside-I think I've seen them before, but I've never studied them. You said something about how you couldn't see them?" The spirit knew he was taking a risk here; knowledge about the demon-horses may well be so universal in this society that his lack of knowledge may seem incredible. However, the way she had offered him information earlier, showing no sign of incredulity or disbelief, seemed to him to point against that.

"You mean the thestrals," said Hermione. She suddenly looked awkward. "Well, see… you can only see them if you've seen someone die."

The spirit looked back at her for a long moment. And then suddenly he couldn't help it. His lips curled into a smile and he chuckled softly. "Well," he said. "I guess that explains it." Now he knew for sure. He was definitely going to like this place.

Perhaps it was something in his tone, or in his smile, but the group seemed unnerved. In any case, Hermione didn't try to make any more conversation after that, and they all lapsed into silence.

The spirit directed his gaze out the carriage window and watched the darkness rush by outside. He sat up straighter and leaned forward when he caught sight of an enormous iron gate looming up on the road ahead of them. As the carriage passed through, the spirit craned his neck and managed to see miniature statues of winged boars mounted on pillars gleaming in the moonlight.

The spirit turned then to look straight ahead, trying to get a glimpse of their destination. His breath caught slightly as he laid his eye on a monolithic black castle, which towered over the landscape from its lofty position on the edge of a rising mountain. Turrets and towers jutted up into the sky like serrated knife blades, and even to the spirit, master of thievery, it looked at first glance to be an impenetrable fortress.

When the carriage came to a halt, the spirit turned to Hermione and her friends and said with a smile, "Thank you very much for letting me ride with you. Perhaps we will see each other around." Then he pushed open the carriage door and jumped down.

The spirit wasted no time in weaving his way through the crowd, around those who were deliberately walking too slow, chatting leisurely with their friends. However, as he stepped inside the fortress, he froze.

Blazing torches lined the hallway, and the stone walls stretched so high that the ceiling was almost hard to see. Suits of armor sat stationary on elevated stone mounts, and a long, gold-trimmed red carpet ran like the long tongue of a great beast into the building. The grandeur of the place was enough to strike even the spirit, thief of pharaohs' tombs, momentarily dumb.

"Get in line, all of you! Security's tight now, so don't even think you'll be pulling any fast ones today. Try to get through with any concealed dark objects, expulsion might be the best you could hope for."

The spirit stood up a little straighter, trying to see over the sea of bobbing heads. The wheezy voice sounded delighted at the prospect of catching someone with a dark object, and it took the spirit only a moment to locate the source. A wiry man with streaks of gray in his long dark hair and a back slightly bowed with age stood at the front of the crowd, jabbing odd golden sticks at each individual in turn. Only when the stick didn't react did he finally grudgingly allow the person to go through.

Yami Bakura paused a moment, considering. The man was searching for dark items concealed on an individual's person. The spirit could have no way of knowing precisely how the oddly shaped golden sensor worked, and may only be looking for dark magic of a similar stock to the rest of the magical objects here, but there was a good chance that the sensor would detect his concealed Millennium Items.

'So these people do have some security after all,' he mused. He would have to be careful. He was right in the heart of the enemy camp; he couldn't afford to attract attention or give himself away.

The spirit raised himself a bit higher to get a better view of the arrangements. As the line crept slowly forward, and he drew closer and closer to the checkpoint, he considered his options. It didn't appear he would be able to simply mingle with the crowd and slip past, the old guard was being far too careful for that. And there may be other guards concealed elsewhere, watching to make absolutely sure no one got through unchecked. So then, how to get in?

The spirit thought on the matter for some time longer, but his contemplations were cut abruptly short as he was suddenly seized by the arm and dragged roughly forward.

"What are you just standing there gawking for? Keep the line moving!" barked the old wiry guard, and the spirit was momentary startled to see him so close. The man held up the glittering gold object threateningly.

There was no more time to come up with a workable plan. He would have to take emergency measures.

The spirit concentrated, tapping into the power of his Millennium Ring-the power to manipulate souls. He felt a string of mist detach from his Millennium Item, wrapping itself around the golden stick and sinking itself inside it, taking control of its inner workings. The object was a part of him now, under his control.

The spirit knew the object would not betray him now, but even so, his whole body was tense as the man thrust the stick at his chest.

The sensor did not react. The man jabbed everywhere he could reach and even pointed the sensors directly at the black scarf concealing the Millennium Eye, but still nothing happened. The old guard looked disappointed.

The guard gestured the spirit onward with an impatient grunt and the spirit was only too happy to oblige.

The spirit wanted to laugh aloud. There was another obstacle past. True, it had been a sacrifice; once he inserted a bit of his soul into an object, the process could not be reversed. But then, what exactly did he lose by losing a piece of his soul? Nothing but a bit of mist. And now he was one step closer to discovering the secrets of this strange magic.

The spirit followed the crowd into a set of large double doors on the right. As he stepped inside, he cast his eyes all around him, and felt himself grudgingly impressed once again. The place was enormous, with a sort of old-style extravagance, intricate gold decorations everywhere, and high quality wood for the four long tables at the center. Hundreds of floating candles lit the room, and the ceiling opened up into the night sky above, affording an exquisite view of the stars.

The spirit glanced at the students filing in around him. All were dressed in the long, black robes looking just like the stolen pair he was now wearing, and on many of their heads were what looked suspiciously like witch's hats, much like the ones he'd seen at the station.

From what he could tell, the seating did not appear assigned, as he noticed large numbers of students went in groups to sit together with friends, so he headed in the direction of the nearest table.

As his eye swept over the room once again, he paused as he caught sight of the dreamy, dirty-blond girl from the carriage. She was just about to sit down, and he noticed she was alone.

The spirit's eye flickered over the room again, and after a moment he located the rest of the girl's friends, all sitting together at another table. Strange. Perhaps the girl was not so good of friends with the others as he had guessed, or perhaps there were some constraints to the seating arrangements after all. He couldn't just keep standing here or he would stick out, but he would have to be careful.

The spirit took a place a few spots down from the girl, while she pulled out a magazine with moving pictures on the front and promptly started reading it, as though she found absolutely nothing interesting in anything or anyone around her.

The spirit turned his eyes to the golden plates and goblets in front of him, and assessed them with a practiced eye. They were certainly real gold, and well made. Not such a far cry from the tomb relics of ancient pharaohs; they would go for a fair sum. However, it was possible there were magical spells placed on them, to prevent thievery. He would have to find out more about them before he let his old habits take control.

The spirit took the time to scan the room, studying the layout, searching for anything that might give him some information he could catalog for later use. In addition to the four tables in the center of the room, there was one smaller one at the front. The spirit noticed that seated at that table were all adults, so he could only assume that that table was for teachers and staff. His gaze went over each and every one of them, studying their faces and trying to discern their personalities and roles, but his eye kept straying back to one of them in particular.

The man sitting at the very center in a large, throne-like chair, with his long, white beard and half-moon spectacles, looked just like the archetypal old, wise wizard present in numerous fairy tales. This man seemed to exude an air of indescribable power. The spirit had a feeling he would need to keep an eye on this man.

The spirit gasped and his train of thought was cut short as he felt himself drenched in a sudden downpour of ice-cold water. The spirit jumped to his feet, wondering if he had been found out. He looked around, ready for a fight, but found no one who appeared to be threatening him, only a few chuckles from nearby students. The spirit felt his robes, and was surprised to find them completely dry. His eye flickered all around him again, and he was stunned to come face-to-face with a white, translucent woman standing in front of him. Especially when, as his gaze slowly dropped, he saw half of her body disappeared beneath the table, like she hadn't noticed it was there.

"Hello, dear," she said. "I'm sorry if I startled you, I just wanted to introduce myself. You see, I know all the faces of the students in our house, but I don't think I've ever seen you before."

The spirit studied her closely. As he had first thought, her form was definitely insubstantial, and he could see the students on the other side of the table through her. She was completely colorless, a combination of white and gray, and there was a misty, powdery look to her, like her image might blow away at any moment. She wore an elaborate elegant dress, and on her head was a glimmering tiara, but they, like her, were made plain by the dull white and grays that composed them. The spirit had had too many dealings with ghosts not to know one when he saw it.

The spirit stared back at her placidly, though inwardly he was irritated, and now concerned that her attention would expose him as an outsider. Already the conversation was attracting interested stares from those nearby.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked, smiling kindly.

"You might not recognize me," said the spirit evasively. "I've changed my appearance somewhat since the last time I was here."

The ghost seemed to be about to press the matter, but she paused, glancing toward the back of the hall, and the sight of a long line of small children filing into the room seemed to sufficiently distract her.

The spirit turned his attention to them, too. The procession was led by an older woman with sharp, stern features, her hair drawn back in a tight bun. In her hands she carried a stool and an ancient-looking witch's hat.

Many of the children appeared nervous, some glanced about them in curiosity. A few strutted through the hall looking cocky, though even they had to pause to look around in awe at their surroundings. The group came to a stop just short of the teachers' table, and the woman set the stool down on the cobblestones with a dull clunk . The room went strangely quiet, everyone's attention suddenly riveted to the front of the room.

The woman set the dirty, old hat on the stool and for a moment nothing happened. Then, to the spirit's distinct surprise, a rip appeared in the hat and it began to sing.

" I see my cards are already showing you no mercy."