InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Final Battle ❯ The First Day's Always The Hardest ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer - You know the drill. Inu-Yasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi-sama, Harry Potter belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling. I am neither person, but they rock just the same. ^.~


RECAP: Thunderous applause resonated at the Hat’s fervent proclamation. Kagome shyly looked out from beneath the hat, seeking out Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione effervescently clapped, a shining, bright smile pulled taught across her lips. Ron gave a gleeful whistle, and laughed at Hermione’s excitement. Harry clapped fiercely, meeting her eyes with reassurance and sincere welcome.

Kagome sighed and smiled. ‘Maybe a life in the future won’t be as bad as I thought.’





Chapter 4





Malfoy cracked his neck in disgust. “First Potter...then that girl. What’s so special about Gryffindor, anyway? She’s probably just a stuck-up airhead who relied on the powers of lucky companions to climb to the top.” He ironically muttered.


‘But she is pretty...’ Malfoy considered what his father had told him. He mentioned that he was to take very special notice of a new transfer student in his year, a girl. ‘Well, that girl could only be this Kagome chick. But why all the fuss about her? As far as he could see, she didn’t possess any spectacular witch’s powers...in fact, he had yet to see her act as a witch at all! Perhaps she was a squib with incredibly wealthy parents. THAT would be amusing...’


“Hey, Potter!” Malfoy called to his nemesis, who stood clapping for the girl who had just descended from the front of the hall. “Better not fall in love; she’s a priestess.”


Harry blushed angrily. “Screw you, Malfoy. What do you know!” Seeing the pissed-off wizard turn away in embarrassment, Malfoy chuckled. No matter how vile he felt deep inside, irking that arrogant idiot always proved to raise his spirits.




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“So, Kagome, how do you feel?” Hermione asked brightly, walking with the exhausted girl to their chambers. They had since bade the other two boys good night after an incredibly sumptuous dinner in the Great Hall. Kagome was received marvelously by her new fellow Gryffindors, but was thankfully saved from having to answer too many questions, in light of the intense hunger that consumed most of the student’s attentions, not to mention, mouths.


Tomorrow, however, would be a different story, with many more stories to tell, many times over.


“Well, to be honest...really overwhelmed! But rather glad. I feel lucky to have made new friends!” She said, grinning at Hermione, who reciprocated, affectionately putting her hand on her back. The lack of a feminine companion at Hogwarts was made up for with the effect Kagome was having on her heart; it was as if she had acquired a sister within the past few hours, and it made her feel incredibly at ease. Not that Harry and Ron were ever anything less than best friends could be; it simply made her feel like a third wheel around the two when they shared their boyish jokes, at times. And, being around Ron...well, sometimes, things felt a little more complicated than they needed to be.


“So, what happens tomorrow?” Kagome asked.


“Well...you got your schedule, didn’t you?” Hermione looked at her in question. Kagome reached into her pocket, struggled for a bit, and then successfully pulled out a clean, white ticket.


“I don’t know, really...they gave this to me, but, there’s nothing on it.” Kagome frowned pensively, as Hermione whipped out her wand.


“Scriptum Revalare!” Kagome gasped, impressed as black ink curled about the white paper, inscribing her name, house, and full schedule of courses. She looked at Hermione, eyes the size of saucers.


“...Wow! Will I be able to do that?” Kagome asked, watching as Hermione checked her schedule, mentally matching any classes they might share.


“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure...you don’t have a wand, and only certain incantations work well enough to be used without a medium. Or, with your hands and mental capacity as one...ooh! We share two classes!”


“Really? That’s great! Which ones?” Kagome peered down at her schedule with interest.


“Let’s see...we’re in Herbology–this time with a special concentration on medicinal magic, Advanced Defense Against The Dark Arts, and...oh! A third; Gnome Economics! Ooh...I knew that was a wise choice.” Hermione hummed happily as she thought of all the wonderful things she would be making.


“But I...I never chose any classes...how did they know my schedule?” Kagome asked.


“Oh, I’d wager Professor Dumbledore probably selected the courses he felt you were best suited for. Your Advanced selection for Defense Against the Dark Arts shouldn’t come as a surprise, what with all the demons you’ve fought. We’ll probably be with Ron and Harry for that. And, let’s see what else you’ve got...oh! A History of Magic...third year? Oh, that’s rough. You’ll be stuck with all the thirteen-year-olds...and Transfiguration, too. But, oh, I suppose there’s worse things. Ah–!” Hermione shuddered in the midst of rattling off Kagome’s list of classes.


“What?”


Hermione looked sheepishly at the apprehensive girl. “Well...I’ve found the ‘worse thing’...It’s seventh-year potions, with Professor Snape. Oh, dear...pity they didn’t decide to put you in an earlier class for that one, as well. I highly doubt he’ll go easy on you simply because you transferred so late.” Kagome grimaced, knowing that, once again, she would be made to pull all-nighters and study, study, study.


“But that’s alright; I’ll help you! I’ve saved some great study guides of Potions courses I’ve taken in the past–you should be fine.” Hermione’s smile was genuinely confident; unfortunately for Kagome, it wasn’t infectious.



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R 20;Good morning, everyone!” Hermione and Kagome greeted the table with a volume of cheer that should have been outlawed at that hour. “Did everyone sleep well?”


“Fine, thanks. How about you? Did you settle in with everything okay?” Harry looked up at Kagome as she took the seat directly across from him.


“Oh, quite nicely, thank you. My schedule confused me a bit, but Hermione showed me how to read it.” Kagome began to pile eggs and bacon onto her plate. In all of last night’s excitement, she had forgotten to eat enough supper, and she was currently slipping on her own saliva at the aromatic display before her. “Um...what are these?” She asked, slightly boggled at the mysterious contents of a certain tray.


“Oze rr kiffas...oo shud twy umm! Aer rilly goog.” Ron articulated poorly through his own half-masticated breakfast.


“Uh...?”


“He said, ‘those are kippers.’ And he shouldn’ttalking with his mouth full. It’s too early in the morning.” Hermione critically clucked her tongue at the boy across from her, who was too busy shoveling pancake into his trap to notice her profound disdain.


“They look sorta like...sea cucumbers...” Kagome sniffed away, and reached for the salt.


“So, Ron and I have Advanced D.A.D.A. today. How ‘bout you two?” Harry asked, helping himself to the hash browns.


“Same here, the both of us!” Hermione affirmed. “Kagome’s a little skittish about her first class, but I told her she could handle it. The first day is usually meant for inventory and introductions, after all...Ron! You’re spraying syrup all over my sleeve!” Hermione scolded, lightly slapping the choking boy on the back as he struggled to swallow. “How many times must I tell you? Take smaller bites!”


Kagome giggled. Hermione and Ron looked up at her, question in their eyes. “What?” They asked in unison.


“I’m sorry...” she sputtered between chuckles. “You two...you act just like a married couple!”


Both faces burst into a burning blush. Feverish, embarrassed protests were slung between the two, until they both surrendered to a tense silence. ‘They both remind me so much of Sango and Miroku...well, except Ron’s vice seems to be food, rather than women. Oh, how I miss that letch...’ Kagome sighed nostalgically, and went back to eating her breakfast. ‘I better keep up my strength, I’m going to need all the energy I can get today...’


She didn’t know how right she was.



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The Advanced class for Defense Against The Dark Arts took place in a large room, platinum armor covering each wall with silver rivets running down the borders. There were no chairs, and several wooden trunks were gathered at the far side of the room. Students began piling in and talking to each other with interest. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kagome strode in, talking animatedly amongst themselves.


“I wonder who our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be...” Ron queried, furrowing his freckled brow.


“I dunno...so far, we’ve had a different one every year.” Harry mused, wondering what surprise his last year might have in store for them all. “Hey, maybe it’ll be a bulletproof monk...” He said, winking at Kagome, who shrugged thoughtfully. She was about to reply with her own clever remark, when the heavy doors they had walked through shut with a loud “crack.”


“Alright, everybody, gather ‘round.” A male voice laced with a thick, American accent resonated throughout the armored room. The twenty students that were spread about the room closed in a disjointed line, turning to see their new professor. He was a dark-haired man of average height, who looked to be in his late-fifties. His face was strong and slightly fleshy, but his dark-brown eyes twinkled with kindness beneath a deceptively stern brow. Again, he spoke. “My name’s John Antoniello. You may refer to me as ‘Mr. A,’ if you want...I don’t need none of that ‘professor’ crap. We’re all professionals, here, we don’t need no flashy titles to give us big heads.” He spoke easily, with an honest clarity that served to magnetize those around him.


“Now, you may be wondering why I’m here. Well, obviously, it’s because this school is in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I was the most convenient applicant for the job. But as to why I came here, I’m gonna tell you a little bit about myself. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York...the good old U.S. of A. Now, we got a lot of crime in New York, and not just with the crazy muggles shootin’ the brains out of kindergartners. No sir, we have some serious sorcery scandalizing back there, and the N.Y.P.D. don’t know jack about any fairy dust, except the type that’s smuggled by King Pins. So we got our own little troupe of cops there, the D.A.C.B.–the Dark Arts Control Bureau. I was an agent there for about thirty-two years, and let me tell you. It ain’t some chintzy deskjob. That kind of work is real, hardcore crime-solving, and you gotta be made of some strong stuff to handle it.


“Now, I’m told this is the Advanced D.A.D.A. class, right? That’s good, that’s good. I wanna see what you’re made out of. So first, I want everybody to go to them wooden trunks over there, and pick out a weapon that best appeals to you. We’re gonna be practicing with a few boggarts to start of the unit in Magical Weaponry–oh, no, no, no! I said ‘wood,’ not steel. Don’t touch that steel trunk over there, that’s the one with the boggart in it...wouldn’t want it creeping out prematurely.” The professor known as ‘Mr. A’ walked easily about the room, his good nature clear between his tough exterior.


As each student curiously sifted through each weapon, Kagome sidled up to Hermione. “Hey, Hermione...um, what would you say is...a ‘boggart?’” She asked, biting her lip in embarrassment.


“Oh! A boggart is a sprite who embodies the object of fear for whatever person with whom it’s currently fighting. You’ll see...just wait for a few to go first before you.” Hermione reassured, finally selecting a gold epee as her weapon of choice.


“Alright, everyone got your weapons?” A collective ‘yes’ was murmured and nodded amongst the students as they gathered back in the row before Mr. A. “Great, that’s great. Okay...first up. Let’s see...you!” He pointed a bold finger at Ron’s apple-green sweater. Ron gulped, not bothering to look if the teacher had implied someone else, for his decisive digit had nearly poked him in the chest. “What’s your name, kid?”
Ron licked his lips nervously. “Um, Ronald Weasley, Mr. A...but I don’t think I should go first, I’m not very good under pressure, and I’d really like to see someone else before...”


“Oh, shut up and get up here. This class has no room for gentle lilies; you’re gonna have to bite the bullet and just try your best. I’m not asking you to defeat an army. Okay, what I want you to do, is take your weapon. Now, you do know how to manipulate these...numchucks, do you not?” The teacher raised his eyebrows at Ron.


“Um, yes, sir. My brothers and I used to play with them when we were younger. They were the only thing I was actually able to wield with any success.”


“That’s nice. Okay, what I’m gonna ask you to do, is to hold the numchucks at your sides for now. When an enemy comes at you, you’re not gonna have a gun cocked with your finger on the trigger, right? Right. So I’m gonna let the boggart out, and you’re going to get your weapon into ready-position, and you’re gonna bludgeon the boggart’s form right in its spiritual core. So, if it’s an animal, it would be the heart. If it’s anything else, you aim for its center...your job is to completely disarm it. Since this is just a boggart, it will merely be stunned without the use of the ‘Ridicolus’ spell.


“But wait, while you’re getting into ready position, you gotta summon all of your spiritual energy into your fingers–-they are what is gonna be the driving force of your weapon. Now, for those of you who don’t know what I mean by the term ‘spiritual energy,’ I mean the capacity of magic power inside of you. Don’t worry, you won’t drain yourself completely of any magic, but you will be tired the first few times you try it. For anyone who’s ever performed the Patronus Charm, it’s a little something like that...you gotta keep a clear head.


“Okay, you ready, Ron?” Mr. A looked at the nervous boy expectantly.


“Um, I don’t think–“


“Perfect. Alright! I’m letting her rip.” Mr. A walked over to the steel trunk, took out a thick, black wand, and tapped the handle twice. Instantly, the latch loosened, and the lid was flipped off of the trunk. Ron squeaked as the boggart took the form of an exquisitely gargantuan arachnid, who menacingly clicked across the tile, coming right for him. “Now remember, no ‘Ridicolus’-ing it! Quick, kid, get out your numchucks. Get him right where it hurts.”


Ron closed his eyes, silently urging any spiritual energy to guide him as he held his breath, and ran straight for the spider, charging him with a terrified battle cry. He ended up missing the spider’s heart, and nailed him in the leg instead, resulting in a horrible cry of pain emitted from the boggart as it went down briefly. Ron looked up, and nearly fainted as the spider struggled to regain his balance. Summoning every last ounce of his courage, he once again heaved his weapon at the spider’s center. Sparks shot out from the numchucks, and the spider went silent, twitching softly in freakish reaction. Unable to take any more, Ron flung the numchucks away from him, and fled back into the row of students, Hermione gently patting him on the shoulder.


“Not bad, not bad!” Mr. A applauded. “Hey, you talk scared, but you got guts to be able to face your fear like that...especially blinded. Of course, what we fear most ain’t always what poses the greatest threat to our well-being. That spider was a weak form for the boggart, and although you did a nice job for the first time stunning it, you might not be so lucky if you were facing a creature with more brainpower. And when that time comes, you might want to keep your eyes open.” He smiled in amusement at the shaking teenager.


“Now then, who’s next?”


The students uneasily shifted from foot to foot, none-too-willing to charge at their greatest fear. Harry whispered to Kagome. “I’m not particularly sure I can go...my greatest fear won’t easily be deferred by some sword.” He looked pointedly at his own weapon. Kagome glanced at her bow and arrow, and pondered. ‘I wonder what my greatest fear is...I haven’t really given it much thought.


She looked up and applauded as a boy with chestnut hair swung a mallet into a grotesque clown’s chest. Sparks were once again elicited from the twitching boggart, and the boy shakily removed himself from the scene.


“Alright, then. Next!...Still no volunteers? Aw, surely there must be at least one of you with the guts to come up. No? Okay then, looks like I get to choose...you! Girl with the black hair.” Mr. A gestured to Kagome.


Kagome started, looking up at the teacher with wide eyes. “M-me?”


“Yes, you. What’s your name?”


“Uh, Kagome Higurashi, but I’m not sure I–“


“Good grief! Are all-a-yaz so stiff all the time? Get over here!” Kagome quickly complied, her bow and arrow feeling heavier and heavier.


“I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that, I’m new here. I’ve never even picked up a wand before!” She said, ashamed of her lack of experience.


“So what? I never went to some fancy-shmancy grade school for magic, either. My folks made me go to public school, and if any-a-yooz witches and wizards think that muggles are harmless, you’d better guess again. Everything I ever learned about magic, I learned from the family.” He said, decisively positioning her before the stunned clown. “Besides,” he looked at her, a discreet, friendly twinkle in his eye. “Old Dumbledore wouldn’t have picked you for the class if he didn’t think you could do it.”


Kagome smiled, however, she was still uneasy. But there was no time to be nervous, and Mr. A went over to the clown and rapped his wand on its core. Instantly, Kagome flew to action, preparing her bow and arrow with conditioned speed. She was ready for anything...until the boggart assumed its shape.


The boggart slammed itself against the platinum wall, its figure materializing. At first, Kagome was confused as to why it didn’t make a move in her direction. But then, she saw the crimson haori, hanging quietly around a set of strong, motionless arms. Soft, silver hair slipped softly about relaxed shoulders, and framed the firm, bronzed features of a face that lie expressionless in permanent repose. Two triangular dogs ears peaked meekly beyond the still tresses, laying long down the broad expanse of chest that could no longer rise and fall with breath...the burden of a single arrow protruding from his heart.


Inu-Yasha’s heart.


Kagome looked at the image of the man from her memories, frozen. She glanced down at her weapon, not noticing that she still had the bow ready to aim. All she could think of was that she must have been the one who had shot the arrow into Inu-Yasha’s heart...she was the one who had killed him.


Dropping her weapons as if they were burning, Kagome ran desperately to the dead figure, nailed to the wall by her arrow. She gripped his haori, clinging for dear life as tears trailed down her face in agony.


“Inu-Yasha!” She cried, burying her face into his chest. Even in death, it was warm...so warm...The scent of pine and nature filled her nostrils in sad comfort, and her body was racked with sobs even further as she raked her trembling fingers through his hair.


Mr. A, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to her, as the rest of the class looked upon the scene with bewildered eyes. Mr. A tried to get around Kagome to the arrow, attempting to stun the boggart and break the spell, bringing him back into the steel trunk, while the other three earnestly tried to pry an inconsolable Kagome away from the inhuman corpse on the wall.


Finally, in the face of five different adversaries, the boggart quivered, and exploded with a soft ‘poof,’ as Mr. A quickly chanted, “Ridicolus.”


The four friends went toppling to the ground in a messy heap at the absence of the boggart to support them. Sloppily attempting to resume composure, Ron and Hermione stood up, looking with wide, confused eyes as Harry put his hands on Kagome’s arms. She kneeled next to the space on the wall where the boggart had warmed it, and had her eyes closed miserably, salty rivulets wetting her face and collar. “Kagome?” Harry tentatively called.


“Inu-Yasha...I never meant for you to die...” She sorrowfully moaned in response.


"I’m sorry...”




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Aw, geez. What is *with* all of Rumiko’s characters and the guilt thing? They put wayyy too much pressure on themselves.

And--I'm really sorry, but I might have to wait two weeks before my next update, but fear not! That chapter is already written, and will be posted in due time. ^_^

Well, how do you like the D.A.D.A teacher? He’s my original character, loosely inspired by my own mentor. I hope you treat him kindly! – Kapitan Nemo :D