Chapter 6 - Explanation in the House of Slytherin

The spirit strode down the high-ceilinged hallway next to the intimidating form of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Once he'd been sorted into his House, Professor McGonagall had retrieved supplies lists for his two auxiliary courses, and a class schedule for times, days, and locations of each class. He was to spend the better part of tomorrow getting supplies, and he would immediately begin classes the next day. The Headmaster would arrange to get him a chaperone. Or perhaps a guard, to keep an eye on him.

Now he was being escorted by Professor Snape, who was apparently the Head of the House into which the spirit had been sorted, to the Slytherin common room as per the headmaster's request.

The teacher had been sarcastic and ill-natured from the first moment, but now he did not even speak to the spirit as they traveled down a long, stone staircase and went into a dungeon-like area, not unlike the labyrinth that they had once had to navigate in Pegasus's castle.

They took several turns that might have made someone not experienced with robbing tombs think they were going in circles, but the spirit was instinctively noting the exact route they were taking, so that he'd be sure to be able to find his way back to the main hall with ease if he needed to.

Finally, Snape stopped to face a damp, stone wall. "Snake's venom," he said aloud, and the wall moved aside to reveal a hidden doorway.

Inside, tinted lamps cast an emerald glow over everything, and a fireplace blazed at the far end. Around it was a collection of high-backed armchairs, in which students sat around chatting and playing games. The chairs cast long shadows over the stone floor.

Professor Snape did not enter, only stood just outside the entrance. "The dormitory you will be staying will be the first on the left," he said. "You will report to the common room six o'clock tomorrow morning, sharp. Any questions?"

The spirit got the impression that, in spite of the question, the Dark Arts teacher had no patience with idiots who couldn't figure things out for themselves.

The spirit smiled slightly. He and Professor Snape would get along just fine.

"No, sir," he said, then turned and entered the Slytherin common room. He heard the hidden door grind back into place behind him.

The students had been lazing around, absorbed in their own activities, but at the spirit's entrance, several fell silent and turned their heads to look.

The spirit ignored them and strode to a narrow passage on the left, lined with several doors. He pushed the the first door on the left inward and slipped inside.

A set of five beds with headboards elaborately carved, each framed by velvet emerald curtains, met his eyes. However, all but one of the beds was already occupied.

" Hello," said one of the boys, drawing out the vowels in an annoyed, sarcastic way. "You want something? I think you're about four doors off." He glared at the spirit through a mess of sand-colored bangs.

"I'm your new roommate," said the spirit curtly, heading toward the empty bed.

"Right," said another of the boys, this one with black, slicked back hair. "Maybe you think because we're first years, we'll believe anything. What's wrong? The others kick you out of the common room? The riffraff they let into this House, honestly."

The spirit paused by the bed and turned to look the boy straight in the eye. Then his lips curled in a smile that could have frozen hot water. "Don't mind me," he said. "You won't even know I'm here." Then he seized both sides of emerald curtain and drew them together with a snap.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, before one of the other boys made a comment about Hogwarts Quidditch teams, and soon conversation resumed. No one mentioned the new first year sitting in the isolated space on the bed closest the door.

The spirit closed his single eye. There was some business that he had to take care of, which might as well be done now.

/My host… it's time to wake up./

Once again, he felt the consciousness of Ryou Bakura stir groggily. Impatiently, the spirit retreated back into the Millennium Ring, forcing Bakura's mind abruptly back into its rightful place.

Bakura shook his head slowly, blinking and looking around at the thick green curtains. His fingers pulled at the gold-laced finery of the bed's duvet. "What?" he mumbled under his breath. "Where-I don't remember…"

This, of course, was all said in Japanese, as his host had been in Japan the last time he was aware.

/You might want to consider not speaking aloud,-/ said the spirit. /Unless you want to risk drawing the ire of the rather hostile bunch just outside the curtain./

"You!" he gasped, then checked himself. He fell silent, listening to the chatting voices beyond the curtain.

/What's going on?-/ he asked at last, mentally this time. /Where have you brought me?-/

As the spirit had suspected, his host appeared to have no recollection of their earlier mental clash. It had simply been a subconscious knee-jerk reaction. But there was no getting around the fact that all of this would go much better if Bakura's conscious self was also informed. In fact, the spirit didn't just intend to inform the boy, he intended him to be a full participant. After all, he had promised the headmaster to work hard to make up for lost time. Fortunately, he had someone to take care of that part.

/I signed you up at a boarding school,-/ said the spirit. /And a very prestigious one at that./

Silence for a moment. At last, in a hollow voice, Bakura asked, /Why?-/

/It wasn't to separate you from your little friends, if that's what you're thinking,-/ said the spirit with a sneer. /Though that will be a happy bonus. We are a long way from Japan. You see, this is a special school-even you might like it./

Bakura was dubious. /What kind of school?-/

If he had been out of his soul room, the spirit would have grinned.

/Look inside the pocket of your robes. You'll find a letter I think will explain everything./

Bakura looked down, and seemed to notice what he was wearing for the first time. /I look like one of the Ghouls./

It was an apt comparison. /I suppose secret societies will have their fashion eccentricities,-/ said the spirit.

Bakura shook his head as his hand found the letter and the folded up bit of parchment with the list of supplies. He unfolded the list first, glanced over it, then raised an eyebrow. Next he carefully tore open the envelope and drew out the letter. He read the contents, brow growing more creased with every line.

"School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he mumbled aloud, this time in English, like the letter. /Spirit, what is this?-/

The spirit laughed. /Why, host, this is a school of magic./

Bakura was quiet for a long minute. At last he said slowly, /I thought the only magic in the world came from the Millennium Items./

/And when did I say that, host? There are many ancient magics in the world, among which the Items represent only one. All the students in this school have magic of their own. And I advise you to get used to that idea, as you'll be attending classes here day after tomorrow./

Bakura looked down at the supplies list again. /So, what you're saying is… you want to learn this magic. But you're going to make me do the work of learning it for you./

The spirit was delighted. His host had grown quick at recognizing how he was being used. /Precisely./

Bakura slowly laid down on top of the duvet, turning onto his side and staring for a long time at the dark curtains. Already resigning himself.

/What country are we in?-/ he asked at last. /America?-/

/England, actually,-/ said the spirit, almost amiably. /Home, for you./

His host didn't answer, only kept staring into the darkness.

/Now, about tomorrow,-/ said the spirit. /Professor Snape, as he is called, is to meet you in the common room-that's the large room off the hall as you go out the front door-at six tomorrow morning. I'd advise you not to be late; he does not strike me as the most forgiving teacher in the world. Classes technically start tomorrow, but you are to spend the day getting supplies./

/Why am I not surprised,-/ Bakura muttered. /Starting off a day late, and half the teachers probably already don't like me./

/Professor Snape does suspect you may be the minion of some Dark Lord,-/ the spirit added helpfully. /But say 'sir' at the end of every sentence, and he may eventually grow to dislike you less./

His host shook his head, then put a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn and closed his single eye. However, a second later, his eye shot open and he sat bolt upright. He put a hand to the scarf covering the left side of his face, and pressed his fingers into the material, feeling around until he reached the Eye. Bakura said a word the spirit never would have expected from his innocent host.

/Ah,-/ said the spirit blandly. /I knew there was something I forgot to mention./

" You may not believe it, but I care for my master."