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Chapter Text

Saturo was a lot of things, but at the moment he was utterly confused, and he had good reason, too.

You see confusion was a normal thing to feel when given a mission in a foreign country. Somewhere in Asia would have been fine, where all the characters, words, meanings and traditions were more or less the same, but bloody England! Sugurus English was absolute shit! (His, on the other hand, was perfection.) Luckily for him, his confusion was share by a rather tired looking Suguru, a pissed-off Shoko, and a angry faced Yaga, who had given them this 'excellent' opportunity.

"You sure theirs no mistake in the system, Sensi?"  asked Geto for what seemed the hundredth time, or maybe that had been Saturo. The confusion clouded up his thought processes. 

Yaga awnsered with a annoyed huff and explained the bair minimum of "The higher ups gave you this mission. Its your job to complete it. Now shoo!" 

"What we supposed to pack!?" Shouted sataru over his shoulder. 

"I don't know, or care." Awnsered Yaga. Rude.

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The sun crawled over saturos skin, spreading heat wherever it hit, one thing he hated about Japanese summers. The goddamn heat, it was everywhere, outside, inside, no matter what your doing, it followed like a curse, spreading irritation over all who bothered to disturb it. 

"What was that all about?" Wondered Shoko, a cigarette already taking its place on her lips.         

"Dunno." Answered Suguru "Is it even allowed to send students to another country?" 

Shoko, who was master of such things, answered, "They sent Nanami away to South Korea last year didn't they?" 

"Yeah, but I mean to another continent and stuff"

"No clue."

"I got that, yeah."

"Hm."

They then remarked how Sataru was being strangely quite, which was annoying, he had just zoned out from there pointless conversation.

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Suguru

Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume

Suguru wished that missions weren't mandatory. He didn't have enough energy for this. It had only been a month ago that Riko had died, and Satoru, and part of Suguru to.

The images had burnt themselves into his brain, they chased his dreams and had the audacity to turn them into nightmares (the dreams that is), and there was a constant movie in the back of his head replaying and replaying. What was worse was that everyone seemed to just move on, forget that there had once been a girl, who had lived, breathed and died to young.  And Geto was to bloody fragile for another mission that involved forming connections and getting attached, and also to fragile for another mission with Gojo, were he would have to be reminded that now it was only Gojo who was the strongest.

Geto couldn't help but feel abandoned. He had hardly spoken to any of his classmates since the incident, he stayed in his room and watched the fan go round and round, and when given a mission, he would go.

Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume

It was an endless cycle. Over and over again. 

Exorcise, consume, exorcise, consume

The worst was that no one,except him, would know.

The taste of a curse, the bile itching him constantly from the back of his throat, the routine. it had been unpleasant before, but it was unbearable now, the taste of the monsters he was forced to swallow, unable to sleep in fear of nightmares, unable to think with the words repeating themselves over and over, and not just one set of words but multiple, all overlapping themselves, some his own thoughts, some, others.

He was alive, but had never felt so dead. He was haunted, and it confused him why no one else was as impacted, there was something wrong with him, that much was obvious.  

Geto arrived in his room, thankful for the escape from the summer heat, and stared aimlessly into his wardrobe, his mind visiting places like:

What should I pack?

Gojo would know.

Maybe I should ask him?

No. To much effort.

But he could help...

Maybe. But he would never understand.

Goddamn brain. He was supposed to be concentrating on what to pack, his internal feelings should get there own fucking suitcase and leave his alone.

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The higher ups consisted of a bunch of crazy bitches doing whatever the fuck crazy old people did.

And apparently sending a bunch of kids to a foreign country was one of there favourite hobby's, at least they weren't complete psychopaths, and gave them one month to prepare for a year of hell. 

The problem is that Geto had to learn an entire fucking language in one month, and even though English was considered to be easy, sitting in front a bunch of English textbooks that were apparently for 11 year-old's, Geto wasn't so sure anymore.

There were a bunch of large words Geto hadn't even heard of in Japanese, so how on earth was he meant to learn them in English when he just learnt what 'because' was. (he had previously thought it was a type of flower)

So now, instead of going outside and enjoying the hideous sunshine, Gojo and Shoko were trying to help him understand some textbooks which were filled to the brim with absolute fucking nonsense.

"what on earth is a 'Niffler'?" muttered Satoru.

"huh" Suguru leaned over Satoru to look the text book he was holding. "oh, I thought it was pronounced 'Nofle'."

Silence crept out of the darkness, only to be shunned with gales of laughter erupting from Satoru, who was now clutching his stomach for dear life.

"Nofle" Gojo somehow manged to squeeze out, which caused Shoko to hit him over the head with a textbook, and also created a smile that had not shown itself for weeks, spread itself over Getos face, and for a couple moments he forgot about Riko, death, destroying the world and such, for a moment it was just him, Satoru and Shoko cracking bad jokes in a overheated room somewhere in Tokyo. And for a moment, everything was perfect.

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Before they knew it, they were on a plane, ready to go to England. (well, ready.)

Chapter Text

Hermione

"So he what? Just told you?"

"yeah. I don't know what exactly to do with the information."

"You were meant to tell us, of course"

"I dunno, what are you supposed to do with it."

"Well if we're going to get a couple of exchange students, and as prefects, me and Ron should show them around." Hermoine continued, "Though i'm not entirely sure what Dumbledore was doing, inviting foreigners into Hogwarts right after the incident at the ministry, and why he told you. I mean, does Hogwarts even exchange students?"

"Well I dunno!" Harry was raising his voice now, he had a particularly short temper these days, nothing calmed him down, and everything riled him up. Ron, for once, was being the smart one, deciding to keep quite and let Harry fume.

Hermoine had been scared that after Sirius's death Harry would truly break, and she had been wrong (one of her first times not being correct, but she wasn't especially good with human emotion.)

She couldn't help but be scared, her bests friends weren't breaking, they were losing there minds, Voldemort was closer then ever, and sending a couple of death eaters to prison was practically nothing. And having exchange students over wasn't going to help there situation, it could actually make matters worse if they decided to join Voldemort. 

Hermoine wanted to do something other then goad Harry for information, but British weather had taken control; and fields outside the burrow were now swamp-like, which meant they were all trapped inside, slowly roasting death with boredom. They had tried everything, board-games, baking, drawing, having a conversation but everything ended in an argument, the latest argument had been about Dumbledore, a good quarter of them were, before Harry accidentally blurted out that Dumbledore was replacing them with exchange students. Which, of course, had confused Hermoine. Like cool. Exchange students. But replace? 

According to Harry, Dumbledore wanted to get some students from another country to work part time as 'bodyguards'. 

That seemed more suspicious the anything to Hermoine, having students as bodyguards, what were they meant to do? Stand outside while the teachers shouted the lesson out of the window? The stupidity! (Hermoine didn't like to call her headmaster stupid, because he wasn't, but this idea really was stupid. If you want to hire someone, there are plenty of ex-Auror Order members for the task.)  

But then again, Hermoine wasn't a wise old man who has seen many things and fought many fights, and she also wasn't half mad. 

Dumbledore

Dumbledore has met many strange people in his life, he finds the strange interesting, but most strange people were over the age of 45.

But the people in front of him were at least 17, so the youngest 'strange' people he's ever met, even there teacher was out of the ordinary. 

There were three kids, the youngest looking one had white hair and sunglasses, he was looking at the enchanted ceiling with no awe or surprise or fear. No the kid was looking at the ceiling with a sort of 'oh look at that, an unnatural and magical sky in a room with a roof, but I'm cool, so don't care' attitude. It annoyed Dumbledore. 

The second kid was also a boy, he was handsome, with messy black hair that was in a half-up-half-down bun. He had a pale face and black circles under his eyes. And he wasn't even looking at him, or anything else, no! The teen was staring at his phone and texting rapidly. But there was no internet anywhere near the school, so that should have been impossible!

The third one was even more annoying, it was a girl this time with brown hair, a mole beneath the one eye and a cigarette between her lips. A cigarette. In school. Dumbledore was usually a calm, patient person, but right now he wanted to hex the shit out of these kids. 

He had already meet the teacher, to confirm which ones of the few students he could chose to take into his care, so they could care for him and his fellow students, and he had chosen the 3 most promising options. The weirdo teacher had the audacity to warn him that these three options were a proper handful, he had only laughed and patted the Yaga-teacher-guy on the back, while internally he was slightly offended, he had to deal with handfuls daily; but now he could see what he meant.

He should have gone with the goddamn Aurors. But he didn't want to mix up the school and the Ministry of Magic again, that hadn't worked out so well last year, so instead he chose to go with some wizards in a place that was not England, wizards who don't know what happens in this chaos-covered country.

That's when he stumbled upon a strange magic school in Tokyo, wizards who didn't need wands, he thought he found the perfect match,he would introduce the new magic type to a new world, an education in his school, in exchange for a couple rounds around there school at night and protection. The perfect plan. He got Shakelbolt to introduce this proposal to a bunch of crazy magic old people (his equals, haha) Then he got to meet Professor Yaga, who gave him a list of students to pick from, and now here he is, with Severus and Minerva beside him, trying to sort a bunch of overly-powerful teenagers into one of Hogwarts four houses before the rest of the students got here; which was in....3 hours . Goddammit. 

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Finally, after 2 hours filled with bribes, threats and begs, he managed to convince them to put on the sorting hat, the white haired one, to his surprise, was the first to give in (All Dumbledore had said was that he'd give him a free pass to his sweet draw, and the sunglasses heathen was on the stool, with much complaining about how the hat was going to ruin his hair.)

The Black haired followed quickly after Dumbledore told him he'd be allowed to have a extra break, the cigarette smoker only agreed if she could have a gin and tonic, which Dumbledore immediately agreed to.

The two boys got into Slytherin. The girl got in Ravenclaw. 

And Dumbledore was ready to kill someone.  

Draco

The first thing Draco noticed when entering the hall was that there were two strangers sitting at his table, a rather bedraggled Dumbledore later explained that these two were now exchange students, and there was another one, at the ravenclaw table. 

And that was it. Draco had heard that there were going to be three exchange students, but he thought they would be bodyguards, as the rumours stated, but Dumbledore said nothing of the sort. Stupid gossiping Griffindors. Gosspindors. Haha. He would have to tell Pansy that.

Chapter Text

Satoru

Gojo has been living in the same room; and sleeping in the same bed, for a week now. And he still confused when waking up in he morning.

The beds were way to soft (why are they four poster beds? It's a school! Not a palace!) and also it sounds different here, back in Tokyo your alarm clock were the crickets chirping at dawn, here all he hears is the genital snore of his roommates and the eerie sounds of the lake, which is right outside the window!!!Literally! There was only a window separating them from certain death!!

It was not all bad though, the accents are absolutely hilarious, he had previously thought that a British accent was basically just a stronger american accent, no they sound completely different. And as Gojo learnt his English primarily from American TV shows, he was basically as high as Suguru understanding-wise. It was all fun and games until some rich blond prick decided to say something (which Satoru guessed was mean to be offensive, a shame he couldn't understand it.) But upon releasing that Suguru and Satoru did not understand, laughed his head off and mocked them, so Satoru, the utter genius, master of the universe and the strongest; stuck his tongue out in a most orderly manner and dragged Suguru off before Blondie could express his disgust.  

Also the sweets collection were acceptable.  

Geto on the other hand obviously hated everything about Britain. He was always complaining, he had a permanent frown on his face and had been told off by multiple teachers for 'disrupting class' which was basically a fancy way of saying that you've been gossiping about people way to loudly, even if they didn't understand a word they were saying. And Suguru's lack of English complicated about every other matter.

Shoko seemed to be fitting right in, the members in Gojo's and Geto's house were all self-righteous twats, but Shoko seemed to get along well with hers, and was always surrounded by people whenever Satoru saw her (she was probably just dealing illegal substances with them (that was Gojo's theory at least, Geto was saying that Shoko had created some sort of secret nightclub.)) 

One of the worst things about this strange cult school, was that they weren't meant to tell anybody about the fact that there sorcerers not wizards, apparently Dumbledore doesn't want the word to come out that theirs another form of magic that doesn't use wands. The bloody wands. To remain undercover, they were forced to carry the magic sticks EVERYWHERE with them. And Gojo has never been more annoyed, he had already caught a bunch of hypocrite weirdos looking at him strangely for holding the wand the wrong way round. 

And worse was that for whatever reason whenever he attempted to cast a spell it exploded! No joke. A literal explosion came form one side of the wand. Gojo simply answered the questions with 'technical difficulties'. Technical difficulties! That had gotten even more stares. What else was he meant to say! He was meant to have lived in this odd universe his entire life yet he knew absolutely nothing about it! It was impossible not to be suspicious, especially as the old man gave them bloody guides to help them. 

The guides were probably the worst of it, there were four of them: a curly haired girl with a name that was to long for Gojo to remember, a red haired dick who had a name to short for Gojo to remember, the messy haired boy with glasses and a scar that gave off odd cursed energy and was apparently some sort of celebrity and the blond haired fool with the cursed energy arm from before. Only the blondie was in Satoru and Suguru's house, the others were in the red house. There were way to many names to remember and Satoru would be damned if he had to remember them all. Goddammit! He could hardly remember his own name half the time!

The four stranger-guides seemed to get along horribly, Satoru was now getting used to the accents and could just about understand what was being said when they weren't talking at 100 miles per-hour, so most the time he and Suguru got Shoko to translate everything.

Draco

Draco was not having fun. In fact the past week sucked. When he was not suffering through lessons his free time was spent escorting the three transfers (who were some of the most peculiar people Draco had ever met) with the golden trio, so in reality his week did not suck, but was absolute hell. 

He had hoped to at least make some progress with the broken vanishing cabinet, but God was not on his side, and instead of trying not to die he was spending his last months on earth being a babysitter with idiots for colleges.

He wanted to go home. 

But that was a death wish. 

His day consisted of observing and being observed, it was awfully tiring. His relationship with the Griffindors was not improving, in fact nothing was improving everything was going wrong! He had already caught the white haired and sunglasses transfer staring at his arm multiple times a day, as if he could see the thing lurking beneath the surface, which made Draco even more uncomfortable, and every time he caught Gojo looking he tugged at his sleeve, and that made everyone else look. He swears that the golden trio is staring at him more suspiciously then usual. He had heard that the previous year Potter had some sort of connection with the Dark Lord, so could it be possible that he saw Draco at some point?? Could he know?

No. That's not possible. If Potter knew Draco would be dead, or at least rotting in Askaban with his father. 

Draco immediately banished that thought from his mind. The more guilty he felt the more suspicious he would seem, The more emotions he felt the more un-Draco like he would be, and that was just setting himself up for disaster; not just death. 

He headed down for breakfast.