Chapter 6: Same Old Pomp 1/6

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: For those of you who read my half chapter when it was published in the New Year, read on from here.

To you, my loyal and long-suffering readers, I present a full chapter this time. This will include the rest of what would have been in chapter 5 as well as some other stuff from further on. I hope you enjoy.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

(Last Time)

Draco was always exhausted after he returned from these practices, which was the only aspect of the top secret activity that had managed to peak Gaara's curiosity. Draco had tried teasing him about it, trying to draw out some sign of frustration, but Gaara honestly did not care about the ceremony, beyond what could be encouraging Draco to exercise.

The next day, Potter finally decided to try approaching him during lunch, concern written all over his face, so Gaara had left early and hidden near his next class.

Sirius had replied to him with the anticipated lack of answers but he had mentioned hearing from Harry about some sort of spat between Gaara and he, without any specifics, so Gaara was cautious to avoid any interactions for the time being. Potter was either looking for a fight or to reconcile, and neither appealed to him at the moment.

Silence, after all, was golden.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Draco stormed into their room covered in a fine sheen of sweat and snatched an apple out of the bowl on the side. He chomped into the juicy flesh with every bit of righteous fury he felt following the latest practice session in which he had been forced to participate. About halfway through the Golden Delicious, Draco yet again bemoaned this travesty and flopped into his chair to finish his snack and rest his aching feet.

"Before you ask, I still can't say anything about the ceremony." Draco drawled teasingly.

Gaara looked up from his book, noticing for the first time that Draco had returned. He looked tired. He must have been at another practice.

Disinterested, Gaara returned to his book.

Draco had made a final stand against the tyranny of Albus Dumbledore the week before, attempting to refuse the event altogether, having even spent a few evenings joining Gaara in the library following the disastrous full moon to look up legal precedents for disobeying Ministerial directives while Gaara did his own thing. By the end, he had a stack of papers and a stronger sense of entitlement than anybody had seen in him for years.

Dumbledore had not had time to see him and had referred him to Professor McGonagall, who was not interested in his research findings or his cogent arguments, she just told him he had to do it and to get ready for that evening's practice. When he tried one last feeble refusal, she scolded him in her harsh Scottish brogue and he wilted under her fierce determination.

He had returned to their room that night with his tail between his legs and had not wanted to talk about it, as Gaara recalled.

"Father is still angry, you know." Draco said, too exhausted to stand again after settling into his seat.

Gaara glanced up at him.

"He keeps insisting I reschedule my meeting with Dumbledore. I tried telling him it's useless but then he just starts up on how simple it would be to stop it on my end and how much grief the Minister is giving him at the moment."

"He's frustrated and powerless." Gaara said.

"Well, yes, I suppose…" Draco was still uncomfortable speaking against his father so openly. They lapsed into silence, punctuated by the sound of Draco's breathing evening out as he recovered after the moderate exercise. "What's worse is that she was there waiting for me again after we finished." Draco continued, scowling.

"That Lavato girl?"

"Lavado, yes. Keeps waiting for me. It's disturbing."

"Indeed." Gaara said, not overly worried about the forward girl.

"Mother always warned me about social climbers. When one considers she's climbing from an offshoot of the Weasley family, I think she has a long way to go before she can dream of being on my level." Draco smirked haughtily.

"She seems to want your attention."

"Of course she does. Little leech has been making the rounds, from what I've heard. Her attentions didn't stop with her year group, either. She's got a list of the five wealthiest boys in Slytherin and tried getting close to each of them. Unfortunately I'm the closest to her age, and my family is the richest by far…" If Draco was expecting to see some measure of awe or envy on Gaara's face, he was disappointed.

"So she has taken to following you."

"Well, at first she tried to ingratiate herself with me, but when that didn't work this stalking started."

"Have you told anyone?"

"You mean a teacher?" Draco scoffed. "Of course not. It's only to be expected that the most eligible bachelors in Hogwarts garner a little unwanted attention. Just because I happen to be amongst them, I can't go bothering a professor about it."

Gaara noticed Draco's inflating ego and wondered whether it would be helpful or harmful to burst it. He decided to let him have this personal victory, small as it was, since he had been having such a difficult start to the year in other regards. Gaara could do little else to help him, beyond having his apples replenished on a regular basis.

Of course, Gaara had troubles of his own. Beyond having to come up with some sort of plan or remedy for the next lunar cycle in a few weeks time, he had also gotten a troubling letter from Sirius yesterday morning. Sirius had warned him that the Ministry was trying to cause trouble again and was arranging a 'final debriefing interview' to be held at the castle.

Gaara had wanted to assume that the previous home visit had been the final Ministry imposition after the overblown matter of the World Cup Final. Even though Draco did not know the full story from the World Cup, he was offended on Gaara's behalf and they each commiserated with the other on the injustices perpetrated by the Ministry of Magic.

Draco had offered to come along to the interview, as moral support/backup, or contact his father for legal representation to be sent, but Gaara assured him that if he had need of a solicitor, Sirius could provide one. However, he wouldn't need any backup in this meeting as he was confident in his ability to stump a petty functionary from the Ministry of Magic.

The platinum blond was concerned that Gaara was being overconfident but nothing he said convinced the redhead to accept help so he forced himself not to worry over it.

"When is the meeting?" Draco asked.

"During lunch tomorrow. It shouldn't last long."

"Lunch? That's… a shame." Draco said. Of course, he was not referring to the nutritional deficit but the fact that Gaara would not be there to scare off his stalker. Ms. Lavado, like a number of first years who had heard the plethora of stories surrounding Gaara, was too intimidated to approach (read: accost) her target when the redhead was near him. Draco was not too proud to use his friend as a shield from this overly forward young woman.

Gaara didn't think it was so bad, at least this way he would not have to miss any lessons while having his time wasted at the interview. He continued reading the book Remus had sent him, Werewolves: The Truth Behind the Fangs: Volume III by Fergos MacTíre, who was supposed to be one of the few authors who wrote factually about lycanthropy.

Draco looked at the book in Gaara's hands and he was reminded of a thought he had during History of Magic the other day, which like all other thoughts during those lessons was not related to the history of the magical world. "Oh, Gaara, I just remembered…did you notice that on the full moon your clothes changed with you?"

Gaara had only been half listening to what Draco was saying so he was somewhat surprised to hear something of value in his periphery. "What?"

"Well, usually when you change, your clothes get left behind in a pile, right? Well, when you changed in the hallway the other week, your clothes disappeared. That's strange, isn't it?"

Gaara cast his mind back and wondered how he had missed not only the initial transformation but the enormous convenience of having turned back and not needing to search for his clothes. "You are correct. This must be because it was an animagus shift instead of a lycanthropic one."

"Animagi change with their clothes on?"

"Yes. It's part of the magic that alters the form, more akin to transfiguration than a curse."

"Oh, yes, I knew that! McGonagall showed us all her ability to turn into a cat in first year." Draco exclaimed.

"Professor McGonagall is an animagus?" Gaara said, trying to recall now if anybody had ever thought to mention that to him.

"Yeah. She'd probably show you if you asked, since you missed it. She doesn't seem to turn into a cat all that often, I don't think. I heard a rumour that she sometimes runs around at night like that, but that might have been part of a joke."

"I expect so."

"So, are you going to ask her?"

"No, I don't need her to demonstrate. I have seen enough animagus transformations." Gaara said.

"Right, because Black is one." Draco said, his voice dropping a decibel or two since he knew that was still a secret from the Ministry, which, his father had warned him, had ears everywhere.

"Yes." Gaara's memories were also drawn to the image of Pettigrew trying to escape him time and time again during his hunt at the end of last year.

"Well, it's still very interesting. I've considered learning it myself but I don't intend to go to all that trouble to end up with a rubbish animal."

"Like a tanuki?"

"I could settle for that, although I'm still not sure you really are a tanuki. I'll find you a picture of what they really look like at some point. Luna thinks you might be something like a red panda. Anyways, no, I mean like a mouse or an insect or something. By rights, I should be a basilisk or a dragon or something."

"I do not believe anybody has ever become a dragon before, though I did read one account of a woman turning into a snake, although it didn't end well for her."

"Wizarding stories about snakes almost never do." Draco sighed. "Maybe there have been more interesting animagi but they were clever enough not to write about themselves without registering with the Ministry."

"Possibly."

"Are you ever going to register?" Draco asked with a smile.

"Never." Gaara said resolutely.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It was at the beginning of the lunch period that McGonagall had approached Gaara and directed him to her office where the Ministry official was waiting. Gaara noted the singular and wondered if this meeting might actually be as innocuous and bureaucratic as the Ministry was claiming. Probably not. Even McGonagall looked suspicious, though that might be because she had been evicted from her office during her valuable lunch hour with a full stack of tests to be marked before her last lesson of the day.

"I have been asked to leave the two of you alone," She said as they arrived, "so I will be waiting outside the door if you need me."

Gaara nodded and paused to watch her transfigure a mop and bucket in the corridor into a chair and desk, impressive even to the cynical, before leaving her to her marking and entering the office. As he closed the door behind him, Gaara heard Filch interrogating McGonagall on which miscreant child had stolen his best bucket and mop.

Gaara stopped mid-step into the office when he saw who had stood to greet him, or, rather, who he thought he saw. Behind the desk was a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Henrick Morbidus, who Gaara had grave misgivings about being stuck in a room alone with.

"Gaara, I presume. I am afraid your reputation quite precedes you. My name is Pius Thicknesse, senior undersecretary for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement under Amelia Bones." He offered Gaara a hand to shake but Gaara just stared at it until it was withdrawn. "Of course, my apologies, you are from a different culture, one where handshaking is presumably not the custom?"

Gaara nodded slowly.

"Then let us begin without any further stumbles, shall we?"

The attempt at warmth was both disturbing and unconvincing from the gaunt figure behind the desk so Gaara did not indulge in the farce and kept the frown on his face as he took a seat.

"You needn't be nervous at all, Gaara. All I have are a few routine questions to conclude the unpleasantness of that night and then we'll be done." Thicknesse pulled out a sheaf of paper from his fine leather satchel and sat across from Gaara. "Now, if I could just take you back to that night, at what time were you alerted to the… incident taking place?"

"The Death Eaters attacked a few hours after the end of the match."

"Of course, the identity of the party who were involved in the incident cannot be conclusively verified and linked to the organisation understood to have served under the Dark Lord, despite indications to that effect, but might I ask, at what point did you come to the conclusion that the party were indeed a hostile element?"

Gaara's mood worsened when he realised this man would evade the truth no matter what was said to him. "When I saw them."

"So, you're assumption was based on their clothing?"

"I have seen pictures of Death Eater uniforms."

"And your inexperienced eyes prompted your aggressive actions? For which, I might add, you have already been cleared of any wrongdoing."

"They were already engaged in battle with several other wizards including Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley."

"Yes, although I would hesitate to term the incident as including a 'battle', I understand that these three are your guardian, your onetime professor and friend of your guardian, and another associate. Would it be fair to say that your attack was in response to a perceived insult to them?"

"No. It was in their defence."

"Of course, I apologise for my wording. Yes, you were defending them. Might I ask, why were you, an untrained wizard of some fourteen years, defending three adult wizards of some renown?"

"No."

"Pardon?"

"You may not ask." Gaara said petulantly.

"Very well. One can hardly be seen to question such benevolence, I suppose." The man said, turning the page in his report. Gaara spotted a number of annotations to whatever was written on the parchment.

"The details of the… unfortunate bouts of violence have been spoken of adequately, so I will be brief."

Gaara nodded, doubting that any of what was to come out of the man's mouth would be brief.

"Were you in possession of your wand at the time?"

"Yes."

"And yet you decided to use a bladed weapon, an explosive artefact of some description, and your charmed sand to engage the aforementioned party?" Thicknesse stole a glance down at where Gaara's sand was concealed by the edge of the desk.

"Yes."

"And now I have only one question left. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Gaara did not answer. "Yes, well, I just need to know who your parents are, or were, as the case may be."

"They are deceased. Their identities are private."

"Am I to understand that you are refusing a direct and official request for information?"

"Yes."

Thicknesse stared at the defiant teenager, having expected the child to buckle under the pressure. The warning he had received about him being something of an irregularity rang in his ears as he reformulated his approach. He didn't have long left before the assistant headmaster would use the end of lunch as an excuse to interrupt.

"Well, I can tell them I asked, can't I." Thicknesse smiled conspiratorially. He began to laboriously shuffle and pack away his papers under Gaara's watchful gaze. "I must admit to being impressed by your composure. It is not very often that one has dealing with someone your age who is not at all intimidated by an authority figure."

Gaara was not prompted to answer.

"But then, conventions are clearly not your style." He continued to smile at him, making Gaara's increasingly uncomfortable, and then looked to Gaara forehead. "I was told you had a tattoo but I had expected something a little less… noticeable. Quite the statement."

Gaara kept is silence. He preferred not to talk about his tattoo anymore.

"In this country, it is illegal for children to be given such marks, especially on such a painful and visible area."

Gaara let out a little sigh, realising that this wasn't merely small talk but the second half of the interrogation.

"That's a Japanese character, am I right? I don't know that offhand, you understand, it's in your file. However, you aren't from Japan, yourself…"

Gaara found the similarities between his home world and this 'Japan' to be fascinating, but he still kept quiet.

"But you would rather not discuss that. I understand. It does make for an interesting appearance. Your hair is another curiosity one might mention, such a bright shade of red, and yet I hear it is not dyed. Curious. But then, one does not control ones innate appearance, does one. Do your siblings share your hair colour?"

"Siblings?" Gaara questioned. It was not outside of the realm of possibility that the Ministry had somehow become aware of his mentioning Temari and Kankuro, as they had somehow discerned that his hair colour was natural, but it was more likely he was guessing. The hair colour thing might have been a well-aimed guess too.

"Oh, you don't have siblings?"

"Do you?"

"Why do you ask?" Thicknesse asked, a slight sneer appearing on his otherwise political face, amused by the teenager's attempt to redirect the question back at the interrogator.

"I met a man who looked like you. Morbidus."

Pius raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Henrick, of course. I did know that you two met, I believe. We do share something of a resemblance, as I recall, but despite our familial and vocational connection, we haven't crossed paths in a number of years. His have always been somewhat more… proactive ambitions, than my own. Never much one for family get-togethers, you might say."

Gaara tried to work out whether this disclosure was in order to prompt one of Gaara's own, to engender trust between them at last, or if it was simply a musing on the other's man's part. It mattered not as Thicknesse's expression cleared of its thoughtful reminiscence and turned back to a calculated joviality.

The door suddenly opened and in came Professor McGonagall, stopping whatever probing statement Thicknesse was about to make in its tracks. She strode right up to the desk and dropped her own paperwork back onto it, maintaining eye contact with the Ministry official from the moment she entered.

"I am afraid lunch is over, Mr Thicknesse." McGonagall said with false pity on her face, "Unless you wish to keep Gaara from his lessons, he will have to leave now."

"Already? Well, that is quite alright; we finished a moment ago, actually. We've just been chatting, haven't we, Gaara?" He said, glancing briefly to the redhead, knowing no dispute would be admitted. "I am terribly sorry to have disrupted your lunch as I have. Now if I could just have a few more moments of your time, Professor, I should be able to submit my report in full. Gaara, thank you ever so much for your time and your company; it has been a delight, talking with you."

Gaara took this to be his dismissal and left without a word. The British ability to mask one's disdain with politeness was still beyond his political capabilities. If he was to be under attack, whether physically or, as just happened, verbally, he would not play along with the fiction of friendliness. Or maybe this was just what Kankuro had tried explaining to him from their own culture, this concept of 'tact'.

As he stood by the closed door, he overheard a little of Pius' continued interrogation, "Needless to say, we have the transcripts of Gaara's time at Hogwarts, but if you could fill some of the holes in our records…"

Gaara drifted away, not needing to hear any more. McGonagall knew very little about him that the Ministry did not already know, and she had doubtless been instructed on the matter by Dumbledore when this meeting was announced, so he did not need to hear her evasions after having spent his lunch giving his own. The lengths the teaching staff had gone to last year, when they were attempting to shield him from Morbidus were testament to their devotion to the headmaster and his schemes.

Unworried as he was about McGonagall and this Thicknesse man, it did concern him that the Minister was sending members of different departments after him now. When previously he had relied on his investigators, headed by Morbidus, which seemed to perform various dirty jobs for the Minister, now he was pulling in other departments to spy. That indicated a worrying investment of resources on delving into his secrets.

Gaara was strong in both power and spirit but even he could not fight off the combined might of the Ministry of Magic, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world who might seek to control or destroy him should his secrets become known in their entirety.

He was supposed to be in a lesson of some sort right now but without his timetable or Draco nearby, he had little hope of recalling which classroom he should be in, in the next five minutes, so he gave up and headed out into the forest to work out some frustration. Without the dementors, his workouts were considerably less invigorating, but the acromantulas would do in a pinch.

It helped that this afternoon he managed to kill the largest spider to date, the size of a stallion. After that achievement, he had retired to Fluffy's area and spent some time with the stupid, annoying dog. A few hours of wasted time later, he returned to the castle and gave a half-hearted explanation to Draco, who had been worried when he did not show up to Herbology after the meeting with the Ministry official.

Gaara wrote to Sirius to tell him about the meeting, disclosing its true nature and its failure, as far as he had been able to judge. After those brief few lines had been scratched, he cast his mind back to the last letter he received from the man for anything he might answer. He came up short since the only other thing Sirius seemed concerned about was to do with Harry and Gaara's relationship, which Gaara had no intention of improving or discussing.

Setting the envelope aside to take to the owlery later that night, Gaara sat back on his bed and observed Draco's tense shoulders as he completed an assignment from one of the classes Gaara had skipped today. Draco seemed stressed all the time since they returned to school. Whether it was his father, the Ministry-enforced practices for this opening ceremony, the Triwizard Tournament itself, his challenging schoolwork, or some other factor, he had not been able to relax since he arrived and Gaara was beginning to feel responsible, having failed to remedy it.

This failure was not for lack of trying, both conceptually and practically; however, Gaara's attempt to reinstate their shared fitness regime to improve Draco's health and mentality had gone down in flames. And Gaara's desire to murder Lucius was deemed ill-timed since, rather than solving Draco's problems, it might cause him even more hardship. The platinum blond seemed to be totally incapable of bearing a grudge against his father, since he had not stopped following his father's bidding and would still not hear a bad word said about the man.

So, exercise was out, as was patricide, so what did that leave?

Confections seemed to cheer up other teenagers. Or…