Repost, Inuyasha/Harry Potter crossover. It'll probably make a whole lot more sense if you belong to both fandoms. Written pre-HBP. I'm American; I'm too lazy to learn the slang of another country. Terribly sorry about that.

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I. In which the monster is bought, sold, drugged, and put in a box. - -

Hagrid smiled over the heads of his newest class, a pack of unruly third-years who were giggling amongst themselves and stepping on each other's toes. Hagrid always had preferred younger students. The desire to learn hadn't been sucked out of them yet; they were more obedient, friendlier, less likely to turn him into the local authorities.

One particularly daring Hufflepuff shuffled closer, peering between the bars of the thick iron cage curiously. "Professor Hagrid, what sort of creature is this? It's not in my book..."

Beaming, Hagrid slapped an open palm down onto the roof of the cage. Miraculously, the exaggerated accent he usually had was gone. In fact, he was using a lot of words he wouldn't generally use. It was almost as if the author was too lazy to try and mimic the way he spoke in the books. "You're in for a treat today, class. No, this creature isn't in your book because their kind is all but extinct. It's a demon, from western Japan. This particular one was excavated in Kyoto while they were expanding the train tracks."

The assorted Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that made up his class moved forward, looking at the creature with a mixture of doubt and fascination on their faces. A few remained skeptical; even years after it happened, everyone remember the now-infamous Blast-Ended Skrewts. Even the students that hadn't been attending Hogwarts at the time. Hagrid grinned, oblivious, and continued.

"He was under some sort of dormant sleep, but I gave him a potion and I'm sure he'll be up and about any moment now. If it can counter the affects of something that puts you in a deathlike sleep, I'm sure it can dispel a little something like a five hundred year old curse."

"Professor Hagrid," a Ravenclaw said, rocking forward on the balls of her feet and thrusting her hand energetically into the air, because Every. Single. Ravenclaw was studious, never mind that there are different kinds of intelligence out there than book smarts, "I thought demons were supposed to be gruesome, evil, man-slaying creatures, like the Kappa. But this demon looks... huggable," she said, casting a glance the demon. Her eyes rested on the smooth, young face; his long, silver-white hair; and the thick, white, soft fur wrapped around his right shoulder that was cushioning him. The girls in the class gave a collective sigh, clasping their hands in front of their chests and looking on longingly. Because inter-species relationships are only socially acceptable if said species are pretty.

"Yes, he does, doesn't he," Hagrid said, his beard twitching slightly as he smiled. "In fact, I've named him Fluffy II, after my beloved dog. Oh, I miss that three-headed puppy..." he paused, noting the way the class was staring at him. "... So, er, I though we could spend the lesson studying him and taking notes on his magical abilities, seeing as no one could tell me what they are."

"Oh! Professor Hagrid, look!" an exuberant Hufflepuff girl shouted, jabbing a finger toward the cage.

"Oooh," a Ravenclaw giggled. "Look! His eyes are gold."

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II. In which Sesshoumaru learns stupidity is multicultural.

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The first thing Sesshoumaru was aware of was a voice.

No, not a voice. Voices. The inane chattering of human children was enough to give any hardened youkai warlord a migraine. Sesshoumaru continued to fake sleep, though he would have viciously denied it if ever confronted. Youkai did not sleep. He did not sleep. Sleeping was what stupid humans did immediately before they became dinner. Sesshoumaru was vaguely surprised he was conscious (because, according to Sesshoumaru's infallible logic, there was a difference between being asleep and periodic moments of unconsciousness), however. The seal on him was supposed to last a thousand years... clearly, Jaken could not be counted on to do anything right.

Sesshoumaru's eyes slid open, taking in his surroundings calmly. At least, he was calm until he say what exactly he was in. A cage. A cage. You did not put this Sesshoumaru in a cage like some sort of animal. (Or hanyou. Hanyou belonged in cages. And maybe some of the more annoying, shrill humans. Was having an aggravating voice grounds for execution? Sesshoumaru thought so; he couldn't be bothered to find out what said humans thought.) A small muscle twitched in his jar, and he examined the bars on every side of him.

They didn't appear to be magically reinforced, through spiritual power or otherwise. With scarcely an effort, he could simply melt the metal away. The fact the stupid humans had thought him so weak they could keep him in an everyday cage only managed to further annoy him. Did they have a death wish? Or were they really that stupid?

Finally looking over at his would-be captors, Sesshoumaru frowned at what he saw. A cluster of pale-faced, light-haired adolescents were staring back at him, jabbering in some indecipherable babble. He wrinkled his nose - they smelled worse than even the rankest human blood he'd had to wipe off his claws after a slaughter. The vast majority of them were overfed, and he doubted any of them would be able to outrun even the slowest of youkai.

Sesshoumaru was unimpressed. He wouldn't have bother with killing them if it weren't for the indignity of being treated like a pet. Narrowing his eyes at the giggling lot, Sesshoumaru grasped for Toukijin at his hip, only to find both it and Tenseiga were gone.

And that was when Sesshoumaru got - for lack of a better description - really pissed.

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III. In which Sesshoumaru does something both stupid and pointless.

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It took little more than three seconds for a class of enthusiastic thirteen-year-olds to go from cooing over a demon to screaming and running back toward the castle. Sesshoumaru would have attacked them simply for breathing wrong, if Hagrid hadn't chosen that moment to try and subdue him the way he would any other magical creature: tackle it with a battle cry and wrestle it to the ground.

Sesshoumaru did not take to the attack well, immediately slashing back at him. It was interesting to note that a one-armed inu youkai from feudal Japan and a half-human, half-giant wizard were fairly well-matched. The fight might have been a long one, if Hagrid hadn't had the desire to leave Sesshoumaru uninjured and Sesshoumaru's sense of smell wasn't as good as it was. But both accounts were true; while Hagrid's attacks fell sort, Sesshoumaru noticed the unmistakable scent of mixed-human blood and, spurred by the thought of losing to a half-breed, pitched the human hybrid deep into the Forbidden Forest.

Untangling himself carelessly from the melted remains of his iron prison, Sesshoumaru took the opportunity to stretch his long-unused muscles as he examined the place he had woken up in.

Grass, trees, lake - these were all unremarkable, and Sesshoumaru passed over them with disinterest. The castle, however, drew in his attention and he stared, fixated. The style of building was one he had never seen before, in all his travels across Japan. As far as he could tell, it was built with stone instead of wood, and that was only the first of many differences. Coupled with the unfamiliar language the natives were spouting, Sesshoumaru could only conclude he had somehow been unearthed and transported to a foreign land.

The thought was unnerving, though he loathed admitting it. The purpose of his seal had been to extract himself from the world until the humans had stopped their rapid destruction of the youkai race. The humans here seemed appropriately afraid of him, which was good. It was something familiar. Sesshoumaru could sense no spiritual powers among them, though their aura was certainly different from the humans he was used to.

No matter. Sesshoumaru calmly moved toward the outlandish building, confident the lord of this place would be found inside. The lack of soldiers and abundance of children was bemusing, but Sesshoumaru adapted well. If he could not find a translator, he would simply burn the building to the ground and search for his swords among the rumble.

It was at this point, with Sesshoumaru walking airily up the steps to the castle, that McGonagall was heading down. Hagrid's class had come bursting through the doors, yelling their heads off that Hagrid had some new monster and, yes, it was worse than the Blast-Ended Skrewts and, no, it would take off more than a few fingers and could Professor Dumbledore come and dispose of it, please?

McGonagall sighed, taking her wand from her pocket and heading straight out the door. There went her free period. Why, she wondered, was she always the one stuck with these situations? Snape never had to leave the comfort of his classroom (whatever comfort there could be in a dungeon) to deal with some rampaging something-or-other. No, responsibility always seemed to rest on her shoulders and settle there for a long nap.

She took the steps two at a time, determined to finish this off quickly and then get in some quality time with a cup of tea and her crossword puzzle, and then stopped completely and gaped. McGonagall had been expecting a five-legged, ten-armed beast with enough teeth to put a shark to shame, not a twenty-something young man with all the mannerisms of royalty.

Sesshoumaru paused as well, eyeing the human female irritably. She was standing in his way. Usually, he dealt with this with an absent-minded slit of the throat, but paused to consider the situation. He was stranded in some unknown point in the future, in some unknown land, with large, hairy half-breeds waiting to jump him behind every corner. None of this boded well. This woman seemed fairly elderly, and had a powerful aura about her. He preferred torture to bargaining, but Sesshoumaru decided this was one instance he would have to put his personal preferences second.

That afternoon, Sesshoumaru proved he was not above kidnapping old women.

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IV. In which much is lost in translation.

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"Are you telling me," Ron said dubiously, "that Dumbledore can speak over a hundred languages, including Mermish, but he doesn't know Japanese?"

"Nobody's perfect," Hermione pointed out, wringing her hands. "I hope Professor McGonagall is okay."

Hogwarts had been turned upside down. McGonagall had been spirited off to the roof, where she was currently being held against her will by Hagrid's latest pet. A group of terrified third years had quickly informed the rest of the school that it was a demon, and now most of the younger students (and quite a few of the older students) were screaming about impending doom.

Harry, who ate doom for breakfast, was absently buttering a piece of toast.

"It just seems to me," Ron went on, "that if you can manage to master a language that sounds like static, you should already know some Japanese."

"Ron," Hermione said, gritting her teeth, "don't you think there are more important things to be thinking about at the moment?"

"You're right," he amended. "How did Hagrid manage to get his hands on a several centuries-old demon from Japan, anyway?"

Hermione made a funny noise, a bit like a cat getting stepped on.

"Well," Harry said, pouring a glass of orange juice, "if he can get a three-headed dog that's supposed to guard Hell in ancient Greek mythology, I don't think getting a demon would any harder."

"It's not a demon, it's a youkai," piped up a voice behind them. The trio glanced over there shoulders, catching sight of Cho Chang, the unspecified Asian girl, who was watching them with a slightly tired look on her face. "Demons are western and the word has a negative connotation, anyway. Youkai are more like the supernatural."

"Hey," Ron said accusingly, "if you can speak Japanese, then why aren't you trying to negotiate with it?"

Cho glared at him and placed her hands on her hips. "Because I live in Wales, not Japan, you ignorant bastard. I only know a handful of words because my little sister loves reading manga."

"Reading what now?"

"You know," Hermione said, frowning a little. "If this... youkai is kidnapping teachers, maybe it has something to do with Voldemort."

"Voldemort!" Harry cried, leaping up from his seat at the Gryffindor table and brandishing a butter knife. "Where? He killed my godfather... and father! I'm going to kill him!"

Hermione sighed. "We know, Harry, you told us six times this morning."

Cho gave him an exasperated look as Ron and Hermione tried to coax him back into his seat and pry the knife out of his hands. "I can't believe I ever had a crush on you."

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V. In which McGonagall bemoans her career and Sesshoumaru bemoans his missing weaponry.

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McGonagall decided she was getting too old for this.

This was not something she said often, as she was a very capable, independent, new-age woman who enjoyed her job to a certain degree and didn't like to let her age slow her down.

However, getting grabbed and thrown over a demon's shoulder - a demon which then jumped from the middle of the steps to the roof of one of Hogwarts' highest towers with scarcely a bend of his knees - was taking job dedication a bit too far. She linked her fingers together and stretched her arms out, feeling stiff after spending all morning on the roof. If she didn't know her colleagues so well, she would have been wondering why no one had come to get her yet.

She eyed the demon critically. Her expertise didn't lay in the knowledge of magical creatures, but she knew the ones out there that assumed a humanoid form tended to be proud, temperamental creatures. McGonagall frowned; for all the hours they had spent up here, the demon had done nothing but stare blankly off at the distance. She knew a human face did not an intelligent creature make - like fairies, for example - and for the moment she had no idea how well-thought out this kidnapping was.

Sesshoumaru, to his credit, had been spending the time going over his current situation and organizing his thoughts. Waking up after five hundred years in a strange land full of people that speak a different language is bound to faze anyone, even just a little. He narrowed his eyes at some sort of bird he had never seen before, deciding he would feel much more comfortable with the situation if he still had his swords with him. Once he recovered them, he would make sure to gut whoever had taken them.

It occurred to Sesshoumaru that his captive smelled vaguely like a cat, but - he sniffed to make sure - she was definitely a full-blooded human. Perhaps, he mused, he had kidnapped some sort of sorceress. There was no mistake she had a strong magical aura, which would usually suggest a miko, but (now that he thought of it) so had the humans that were gawking at him his morning. This woman also smelled strongly of some potent plant life, some he recognized but most he did not. Scowling lightly, Sesshoumaru's gaze fell on a long tentacle that was stretching out of the water of the lake. Had he stumbled into some sort of miko-training temple? ... But if that were the case, they would have exorcised him immediately. Sesshoumaru's scowl deepened, generally baffled and not liking it in the least.

Several stories below them, Professor Snape swept into Dumbledore's office without knocking and frowned at the aged magician.

"You do know that McGonagall's been kidnapped by Hagrid's pet demon, don't you?"

"Has she now?" Dumbledore said with mild surprise, glancing up curiously.

"What do you intend to do?"

He paused for several minutes, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I hope this doesn't mean she'll ask for a raise in pay."

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VI. In which Sesshoumaru meets Voldemort and is unimpressed.

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It is commonly accepted that the universe has a sick sense of humor.

This was proven that afternoon when, with McGonagall stranded on a roof, Hagrid lost hopelessly in the Forbidden Forest, and Dumbledore trying to figure out his tax returns, Voldemort appeared on the grounds and started walking leisurely up the stairs. He chuckled and killed a few faceless, nameless, expendable background characters.

Now, of course, this was a fairly impulsive and reckless way to attack Hogwarts. But, Voldemort reasoned, impulsive and reckless things seemed to work for the so-called Good Guys, and where had being cautious gotten him? Thirteen years with deadbeat, turncoat followers and a considerable setback in his goal of World Domination.

No, the time was right for a bold move. His horoscope hadn't been specific, but he had come to expect unexpected complications. What else did that scrawny Harry Potter have to throw at him, aside from a Quidditch broom and some excess emotional turmoil?

Sesshoumaru first noticed something was wrong when his captive started moaning and repeating some phrase over and over while searching her odd outfit frantically. This wasn't to say he hadn't noted the loud screaming and heavy scent of blood several minutes earlier; he just hadn't seen anything wrong with this.

He was about to relax again - whatever the old woman with him did was not his concern, providing she didn't try to attack him in some manner - when a stray blast of something struck a wooden hut out by the trees and turned it into a fine powder. Sesshoumaru lifted an eyebrow and glanced over the edge of the tower top they were sitting on. It hadn't been the sort of spiritual power you saw in a miko, and it definitely wasn't youki, but it had managed to completely obviated the house. What had attracted his attention, however, was the sudden surge of a bloodthirsty aura coming out in waves from the pile of sawdust that had, moments ago, been something remotely livable. All of the bloodshed must have woken Toukijin up.

Feeling as though it was about damn time, Sesshoumaru left the roof and landed gracefully on the grass, calmly walking around the slain bodies and otherwise ignoring them. Back up on the roof McGonagall stared a while, stunned, before climbing to her feet and cupping her hands around her mouth, well aware the demon couldn't understand her but not really giving a damn.


Even if Sesshoumaru had known English, McGonagall's cry would have been swallowed up in the screams, curses, and incarnations shouted on the battlefield. Wizards and witches were too busy defending their lives to pay any attention to a stray magical creature. He came to a stop in front of the remains of Hagrid's house, a slight smile gracing his face briefly as he bent down and picked up Toukijin and (after a moment's pause) Tenseiga as well, returning them to their place at his side. Predictably, Toukijin was thrumming with the desire to destroy while Tenseiga was rattling in distress, demanding Sesshoumaru do something about the large number of staff and students that had been killed.

For once the two swords were drowning each other out, and Sesshoumaru calmly ignored both. Whether these strange, foreign humans died or not was none of his concern; he still intended to find whoever it was that had tried to captivate him and kill them. No, this Sesshoumaru would not lower himself to become involved in a human conflict.

As if on cue, a blast of green light and the hissed words of Avada Kedavra came rushing toward him. Sesshoumaru blinked and looked down, and at that moment Tenseiga proved its usefulness by protecting its wielder from the strongest curse known to the wizarding world.

There was a stunned pause in which many witches and wizards stared, because only one person had ever survived the curse before, ever, and no one had actually seen that happen.

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed as he followed the path of the light, his eyes landing on a particularly ugly human. It also smelled worse than the others, something Sesshoumaru had not believed was possible, and he wrinkled his nose. He was annoyed (had he been anyone other than Sesshoumaru, he would have been furious) - one of these humans dared attack him? Sesshoumaru raised a faintly glowing hand with a glare.

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VII. In which life returns to normal, in a manner of speaking.

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Harry spent a great deal of time complaining afterward.

"I'm the only one who was supposed to be able to kill Voldemort! ME! What's wrong with this place?"

"Well," Hermione pointed out, "the only HUMAN, it seems."

"But! The way he died was just so... stupid. Nothing we throw at him does a thing, and then something as simple as slapping him-"

Hermione laughed a little. "He... melted! Just like the wicked witch of the west!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind, Ron."

"AND," Harry shouted, because the caps lock key was stuck and shouting was the only appropriate way he could expressive his extensive angst. "DUMBLEDORE SAID THERE WAS NO WAY YOU COULD BRING PEOPLE BACK FROM THE DEAD!"

"It was nice of the youkai, though, to bring all the staff and students back before he left," Hermione said, naturally being the only one who ever thinks straight. Naturally.

They continued on in this matter for nearly a week, until Harry realized being a living hero was a much better deal than being a tragically dead one, grew some hormones, and lived the rest of his life rich and famous.

It took Hagrid nearly a month before he found his way out of the Forbidden Forest again. When he finally reappeared he had a strange fear of dogs and had to try and rebuild his house.

Dumbledore had to call the cleaners to scrub the last bit of Voldemort out of the grass, then locked himself in his office and tried to figure out if aiding to the death of a crazed mass murderer was tax deductible.

Eventually, Professor Flitwick reminded them about her and they got McGonagall down from off the roof.

As for Sesshoumaru, he moved back to Japan, having never gotten the hang of English (which he considered an ugly and inane language). Using his youkai survival skills he managed to adjust to indoor plumbing and refrigeration rather quickly, though it took him longer to grasp the concept of personal property and permanent residences. Though he initially made a fortune buying and selling artifacts from the feudal era of Japan, he lost all the money paying court fees for multiple counts of carrying swords around in public, assault, petty theft, and loitering. He eventually took a job as a preschool teacher, and enjoyed the complete authority the position gave him.

A few months later, Higurashi Kagome fell down a dirty old well.

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