Dancing Flames

For not the first time in that morning – or in her life in general - Tsunako cursed how infuriatingly normal the Dursleys had been. More specifically, she cursed the fact that they had been so utterly, boorishly normal that they had only ever agreed to eat English food.

Perhaps it was a silly thing to curse them for – especially when compared to the other list of grievances she had against them, such as making her live in a cupboard under the stairs for the better part of her childhood among other things – but as she tasted her homemade teriyaki sauce (No, still nowhere near as good as Nana's) it was the thing she begrudged the most.

Chinese, Greek, Mediterranean - even French food they would refuse to touch, as the only ones who ate it were "those bloody frog-eating poufs" (though Tsunako had seen her uncle and cousin practically inhale French pastries, all the while praising traditional English cuisine)… So there was no way they had ever condescended to eat Japanese food.

(In fact, she remembered them talking about Japanese food, but she wouldn't repeat what they had said about it, if only out of pure disgust for all the racial slurs involved).

And by extension, there had been no way for Tsunako, the maid-gardener-cook-indentured-servant-extraordinaire of the Dursley Household, to cook Japanese food.

Well, perhaps that was a little unfair.

She supposed not all of the blame for her lack of cooking variety could be laid at the feet of the Dursleys. She had, after all, spent several years living on her own before being brought to this dimension in which she could have tried different cooking styles. But even then, she hadn't cooked much – not so much because she didn't enjoy it, but rather because it would send her houselves, Kreacher, Dobby, and Winky, into massive blubbering fits where apologies for unworthiness were wailed between sobs, accusations of the Great Mistress Hyacinth Potter not needing useless houselves anymore were hurled, and attempts at self-harm were narrowly avoided.

Not worth the aggravation, if you asked Tsunako. Absolutely not worth the aggravation. As the old saying went, "The secret to a happy home is happy house-elves."

She bet her enemies would have paid a pretty penny to see the mighty Woman-Who-Conquered so deftly manipulated by a trio of creatures less than half her size.

(Master of Death? Please, she hadn't even been master of her own home).

As such, on the rare occasions Tsunako had cooked, it had been at the Zabini Manor, away from the watchful eyes of her overly dramatic house-elves. The Burrow might have also been an option, but Molly Weasley was possessive of her kitchen and any attempt at offering aid in cooking had been met with all the fierceness of a mother dragon protecting her eggs – trust her, Tsunako would know.

She would generally cook Italian food, as that was all Blaise knew how to cook – but Merlin did he cook it well! – and they had enjoyed cooking and dining as a couple.

With the occasional surprise visit from Isadora, much to Blaise's frustration.

How was Tsunako ever supposed to catch up to Nana at this rate? She was learning Japanese cuisine from scratch! And every time her mother made her a meal she felt the full burden of her inadequacy crash upon her frustratingly small seven-year-old shoulders.

She would cook at least half as well as Nana one day even if it was the last thing she did!

Tsunako stared determinedly at her teriyaki sauce that had the gall to be anything less than succulent before huffing in amusement.

From worrying about genocide to assassins to running Wizarding Britain… to worrying about cooking Japanese food, of all things.

Oh, how times have changed.

Tsunako smiled.

And I couldn't be happier about it.

This banality, the quiet basking in small, petty concerns such as cooking.

She loved it all.

Speaking of mundane things… today is the first day of school.

What a strange thought.

The day had started like every other day since she had arrived in this parallel universe. Tsunako had woken up at 4:00 (she had never been able to sleep for very long after the war anyway), gone out for her training routine, gotten back, taken a shower, changed into clean clothes, gotten excited about spending time with her mother, taken a few moments to calm herself down over the prospect of spending time with her mother, and gone downstairs to make breakfast and obentos while waiting for said mother to come down.

Except this time she had changed into a school uniform instead of casual clothes. And the obentos, instead of the local park she usually spent her afternoon reading at, would come with her to school.

Elementary school.

Tsunako wasn't sure what to think about all of it. She hadn't stepped foot in a school in ten years, give or take a few. She hadn't taken actual classes in even longer than that. In fact, she hadn't even officially finished her schooling, having become Minister of Magic directly after the war.

Now that she thought about it, she had probably been the first Minister of Magic without a school diploma.

(That was rather sad. She hoped the historians would forget to add that part to the books).

It had always been something she had regretted, not experiencing typical school life. Oh, sure, she had loved Hogwarts – as an escape from the Dursleys, if nothing else – and had made fantastic friends, the kind that stayed with you for life and would die for you – had died for her – as she would have for them. And she wouldn't trade those for the world… But she had to admit she had always longed for a normal, peaceful school experience.

Even in her early years, before being introduced to magic and the yearly attempts on her life, she hadn't been able to properly enjoy school. From the very start, Dudley and his gang had chased after her and scared away anyone who had gotten too close to her and might have made the horrendous mistake of becoming the freak's friend, and the Dursleys had berated her whenever she had achieved better grades than their perfect Dudley-Diddums, which was frankly very often during her earlier years. Eventually, she had learned to keep her scores at just about idiot level, and to find somewhere to hide every break and lunch.

But now… Now, she would finally have a chance to enjoy her school life.

Maybe… Maybe she could even focus on her studies without anyone trying to kill her.

Hell, she'd settle for people simply not expecting her to either become a Dark Lady or reveal herself as the second coming of Merlin.

It was already a huge improvement.

Grades weren't so important to her, but Tsunako felt compelled to do her best, if only to honor Hermione's memory and this second opportunity that was being given to her (an opportunity so many of her fallen comrades didn't- wouldn't ever have).

And to please her mother.

Especially to please her mother.

Nana was of an air-headed disposition, there was no doubt about that, but she genuinely loved her children – genuinely loved Tsunako. It was thrilling and frightening and overwhelming all at once. There were days Tsunako woke up thinking it had all been a dream and she was an orphan and alone again, but then she'd see her mother and the sheer beauty of her kind eyes and her loving smile chased all dark thoughts away, reducing them to mere wisps of forgotten insecurities.

Sometimes her mother would smile at her, so warm and loving, and Tsunako would just freeze – pouring soy sauce into her water, walking straight into a closed door, dropping the tea cup in her hand and sitting passively as it crashed into the ground – all garnering nothing more than a fond, "My clumsy little Tsu-chan" from Nana.

Tsunako wanted to repay her mother for her love in some way- and one of these ways was to become the best daughter possible in order to make her mother happy.

Part of doing that was studying and getting good grades.

She had already seen how happy her mother was when she said she was going to Hana's house to study Japanese History.

Tsunako was not going to let her mother down.

She had been given a chance at a family who genuinely lovedher – something that had been cruelly ripped away from her at an age where she would have no memories of her parents apart from her mother's dying screams in her last life – and she was not going to waste it.

"Ara? What has my Tsu-chan making that frowny face?"

Tsunako turned around to see her mother at the kitchen door, having just gotten out of her room and looking as beautiful as ever.

Tsunako had made it a habit to be in the kitchen and start cooking before her mother woke up. She figured it must be hard to be a single mother – which her mother had to be, since there was no sign of a life partner in those last two weeks, and you'd have to be a real idiot to not spend every possible minute with a wife that wonderful, or at the very least call – of two elementary school age twins. The least Tsunako could do was lighten the workload a bit.

(And, if she was honest with herself, she wanted to perfect her cooking as much as possible so that she could cook with Nana on equal footing one day. She had taken to making two bentos a day – neither of which were for her brother since he had vehemently told her he'd rather eat dirt when she offered – generally foisting off the second one on Hana).

"I'm just thinking about how to cook the broccoli, Mama!" Tsunako answered cheerfully. She couldn't help but beam at the woman whenever she talked, the sheer joy of being with her sometimes so intense it was physically painful. Turning back to the broccoli sitting on the counter before her mother could detect the intensity of her emotion in her eyes, she asked, "What do you think? Should I use soy and sesame or teriyaki sauce?"

"Oh! My Tsu-chan is cooking so well already!" Nana beamed. "Mama is so proud!"

Tsunako froze.

Now, ordinarily comments of this nature from a parent would only serve to embarrass their child. They would blush, get angry with their parent for treating them like a child, play it off as nothing in order to appear "cool".

This was not one such a case.

Instead of whining embarrassedly or flushing in shame, Tsunako only smiled even brighter at her mother and fought the telltale pinprick of tears in her eyes.

Mama is so proud!

Tsunako didn't cry easily. She had suffered so much and so repeatedly that crying every time something bad happened in her life would've been utterly exhausting and a waste of precious time and effort. It would've probably led to an eternal case of dehydration, as well. While she may have cried often as a baby, it took only a few years with the Dursleys for Tsunako to quickly learn that tears would gain her nothing and only ever invited ridicule.

And so she didn't cry.

Mama is so proud!

When others whimpered in fear when faced by Death, Tsunako stood strong and unmoved.

When others broke down after killing for the first time, Tsunako stoically and methodically ripped men apart.

When others sobbed over the deaths of their comrades, Tsunako buried friends – family - without shedding a single tear.

Mama is so proud!

So Tsunako was understandably surprised when she felt wetness on her cheeks.

It started at the tips of her eyes and slowly coursed down her cheeks, pooling at her chin, momentarily suspended there as though time had stopped to admire its tragic beauty for that one instant, only to drop quickly to the floor, the soft drip from the splatter the only sound that could be heard in the room.

Mama is so proud!

Tsunako touched her fingers to her cheek, startling at the wetness she found there. Slowly, as though afraid of what she might find, she brought her hand, tellingly wet, in front of her.

What on Earth…

She stood staring at the wetness on her fingers for a few moments, uncomprehending.

Finally, a voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Tsu-chan?" The uncharacteristically almost hesitant voice of Nana echoed through the kitchen, loud in the silence of the morning. Tsunako felt a gentle, loving hand rest on her shoulder, which only served to make the tears flow more quickly although just as silently.

"Why are you crying?"

Nana looked at her only daughter in confusion as tears continued to slide down her rosy cheeks.

She was no stranger to her Tsu-chan's tears. Ever since Tsunako was a baby the girl would cry at the drop of a hat. Whether it was tears of pain from tripping over her own feet and scraping her knee, tears of fear from being barked at by the neighborhood Chihuahua, or tears of sadness from not having any friends (because Nana may be oblivious but even she knew her daughter felt lonely), Tsunako cried easily.

Those tears were loud; they were messy, wailing things, all too often accompanied by snot and incomprehensible babble. They were sobs that shook her tiny daughter's whole body and made her little shoulders tremble. Tsunako wasn't overly dramatic about it, as she had never been one to bring attention to herself (always so shy and adorable, her Tsu-chan), but they were a child's tears, big globs of water that burst out from their sockets with all the subtlety of a rampaging elephant. Nana was fairly certain that if she had kept every single tear Tsunako had shed since the day she was born, there'd be enough to fill a large pool.

Of course, no matter the frequency of the event Nana would always go to comfort her child, picking her up and placing her in her lap, cooing at her until the tears stopped.

But watching Tsunako stare at her hand, fingers wet with her silent tears, Nana couldn't help thinking these tears were different. They weren't loud or messy. In fact, she would've never known they were even there if she hadn't been looking directly at her daughter's face.

There was such a discord between the tears that silently but determinedly pooled down Tsunako's face and the absolute befuddlement in her expression that it… worried Nana.

It was as though Tsunako was not the one crying. As though her child was merely watching someone else cry, and was utterly confused as to why this person's tears were coming out of her eyes. Her small body stood utterly still, like a painting, a distant look in here caramel gaze, and suddenly Nana wondered why it was her daughter suddenly seemed so far away.

Tsunako looked so fragile in that moment.

Nana was overcome by the incomprehensible need to touch her daughter, to keep her from going, from leaving, from fading away…

"Tsu-chan?" Nana put a reassuring hand on her daughter's shoulder, light and gentle, as though holding her too tightly might shatter her. Nana couldn't understand her own hesitation when any other time she wouldn't think twice about bundling her Tsu-chan up into her lap to comfort her. "Why are you crying?"

Nana's voice seemed to at least do something, as Tsunako stopped staring at her hand, instead turning wide, caramel eyes – the same brown brown brown shade as Nana's, and yet somehow infinitely orange – to her mother, and gave a small, sad smile.

Nana didn't like that smile. She couldn't say why, but she knew it didn't belong on her daughter's face. She wanted it gone.

In a soft voice, the voice of a child, wide-eyed and uncertain yet strangely resigned, Tsunako replied, "Must have been the onions, Mama."

Nana stopped.

Oh! Silly me!

At once, all worries left Nana. She laughed.

The mother breathed a sigh of relief. So that's what it was! No wonder the way she cried seemed different – she wasn't actually crying at all! Well, Nana had worried over nothing.

Giving a small giggle at her own overthinking of things, (Which, really, Nana never did. She wondered what had gotten into her that morning. Must have been the change in weather), Nana clapped her hands, "Well then! Let's get to finishing breakfast, shall we?"

Cheerfully, she hummed as she danced through the kitchen, the previous incident already forgotten as she focused on what to cook for breakfast.

Loving mother Nana may be, but observant she was not.

Nana, in all her obliviousness, never noticed that there were no onions to be seen.

"Are you excited about going to school and seeing all your friends again, Yoshi-kun?"

"I saw them over summer already. People who have friends don't wait until summer is over to see them. But you wouldn't know about that, would you, Dame-Tsuna?" He sneered, "Since no one wants to be your friend!"

"How wonderful! Yoshi-kun is so popular!"

"You're so unpopular even a rat would be popular in comparison!"

"But you're not a rat! Everyone says you're both smart and athletic, Yoshi-kun! Not rat-like at all!"

"Shut up, Dame-Tsuna! Of course I'm not a rat!" The boy spluttered. "And I told you not to call me that!"

Things had been proceeding in much the same way for the last ten minutes.

After breakfast that morning Yoshimune had been ready to rush out of the house, but in an uncharacteristic show of force, Nana had insisted that her children walk to school together, at least for the first day.

And so, for the last ten minutes, Tsunako and her brother had walked together.

Or at least something resembling together, as Yoshimune walked at least five feet in front of her at all times. Sometimes, she would say something he found particularly annoying (although why that was she couldn't fathom, as she had done nothing but smile and try to be friendly) and he would unconsciously walk closer to her to retort or to insult her. After a few back-and-forths, he would realize their proximity and jump back from her as if burned – quite comical, actually – quickly walk forward to keep their distance of five feet, and proceed to either pretend she didn't exist or further insult her in some fashion.

Others might find this behavior irritating and offensive – even insulting.

But not Tsunako.

Tsunako thought it was adorable.

Tsunako opened her mouth to ask her brother another question – she really wanted to know more about him as they had barely seen each other the last few weeks since he was always out – but her brother interrupted her before she could utter a sound.

"Shut up! I don't want to talk to you, Dame-Tsuna!"

Honestly, it was like prat-Draco and prat-Ron all over again. Except in one person. The horror.

Yoshimune was lucky he was her brother and she loved him so unconditionally. After years of dealing with a spoiled and whiny prat-Draco and an egotistical and equally whiny prat-Ron, she really usually had little patience for that type of behavior in others.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason she found this behavior simply cute in her younger twin.

She really couldn't find it in herself to be mad at him. She was overjoyed at simply having a sibling.

It surprised her, how happy she was at having a brother. She had always known she wanted a mother. Parents had been her most desperate want; in fact, the Mirror of Erised had shown that her greatest desire was for a father and a mother.

She hadn't ever really thought of siblings.

Hermione had been her sister and Draco had been her brother in all but blood. She had never felt the need for a sibling the way she had a mother.

And yet, she wouldn't trade him for the world.

He was hers now.

In any case, she was sure Yoshimune would mature with time. Draco certainly had, and she had absolutely hated him in her initial Hogwarts years.

And then perhaps she and Yoshimune would have the same playful camaraderie the Weasleys had so effortlessly shared.

"Why do you look so happy, Dame-Tsuna?" Yoshimune asked accusingly, as though it was a crime against the very laws of nature for her to be anything other than despondent on the first day of school. Perhaps it was. Her previous self would certainly have been near depressed.

"Oh? I thought you weren't talking to me?" Tsunako asked. She thoroughly enjoyed teasing her brother.

"I'm not!" Yoshimune protested, color briefly flushing into his cheeks. "I don't even want to be seen with you! It's bad enough that Dame-Tsuna is my sister!" Then, with newfound resolution, he declared, "I don't care what Mom said, I'm not going to school with you!"

And with that, Yoshimune ran off, leaving Tsunako alone on the empty street.

Tsunako paid it no mind, however. As much as she enjoyed spending time with her brother, prat-Draco and prat-Ron that he was, there was something she had to do that she'd much rather do alone.

It was time to face an old enemy.

Tsunako stared.

And stared.

And stared.

I still don't get it.

After revisiting a couple of her memories from before the merging, Tsunako had been not entirely surprised to find out that she had a contentious relationship with the local dog in the neighborhood.

By contentious relationship, she meant that it yipped at her and she'd run away in tears.

She had a way with all other animals – from wolves to hippogriffs to eventually even dragons, but dogs in particular just found something in her that made their hackles rise (with the notable exception of Sirius who is not actually a dog, Aunt Cissa, no matter what his manners at the dinner table are).

Or maybe Tsunako was just prejudiced after being subjected to Aunt Marge's bulldog, the ever-so-accurately-named Ripper, for so long.

So her parallel self not getting along with a dog was not unexpected.

What she didn't understand was how she had been afraid of it.

Staring at the small canine in front of her once more, Tsunako couldn't help being puzzled.

It- it was a Chihuahua.

And less than half her size, even at seven years old!

She had been afraid of a Chihuahua.

Damn it, I'm never going to live this down if Draco ever finds out.

Desperate to find any bloodthirsty or frightening quality in the Chihuahua that would redeem her parallel self's past fear of it in some way, Tsunako got even closer to the dog to get a better look.

Canine eyes stared into her soul, and indeed Tsunako found what she could faintly detect as meanness in them – and was that a sense of superiority? Was this Chihuahua looking down on her?

Tsunako had officially achieved a new low in life.

With beady eyes full of what Tsunako could only interpret as malicious anticipation, the Chihuahua barked – no, yipped – into her face, no doubt expecting her to run away in tears like every other time it had done so.

Tsunako was very much unimpressed.

Detecting confusion from the tiny canine – whose bark was obviously worse than its bite, which was really quite sad considering its bark consisted of a high-pitched yip – Tsunako explained herself, "It's not you, it's me." She sighed, "Right now my pride really can't take another beating, so I can't afford to run away in tears anymore. I hope you understand."

And with that said, Tsunako walked away from the very confused Chihuahua, hoping that the rest of her day would turn out to be at least marginally better than that very embarrassing interaction with the previously terrifying tiny canine.

Students were mingling in the school's main courtyard, the already harried teachers trying – and mostly failing, as these were a bunch of rambunctious elementary schoolers who were excited about seeing all their friends again – to organize the uncontrollable children into rows for the Opening Ceremony and the collective singing of the school anthem.

Of course, why they were being gathered into the school courtyard was the farthest thing from the children's minds.

All around her, kids were rushing to their friends, with some variation of, "How was your summer?", "The homework was so hard!", and "Do you think we'll be in the same class?" exchanged.

At a distance, Tsunako spotted a brown-haired child putting chewed gum in a poor girl's hair, two boys noisily grappling with each other, a big kid swinging a wooden sword around and making loud exclamations about what seemed to be his "super awesome skills"…

And was that boy with the big smile and the baseball bat… surrounded by a hoard of girls?

Oh dear, this new generation does start early.

Chuckling at the sight and yet shuddering slightly at the memories of her own hoard of fangirls and fanboys she had had in her previous life, Tsunako continued to scan the room. She could see her brother far off to her right, surrounded by a hoard of his own, although this one consisting only of boys and was much smaller than the smiling boy's hoard.

Those must be the friends he was always out with over summer – his soccer teammates, was it?

For a brief moment, Yoshimune's gaze met her own. The moment didn't last long, however, as he sneered at her and looked away in obvious dismissal.

Tsunako sighed. It seemed she still had a long way to go to establish an at least non-antagonistic relationship with her twin.

Ah, well. Good things come to those who wait.

As it was, Tsunako seemed to be one of the only people who wasn't talking to at least one other person. If anything, this confirmed Tsunako's fears that her parallel self had had no friends. A sad thought to be sure, but one that made her life easier as there were less people to note the changes in her personality and become suspicious.

Seeing the chaos that was occurring around her, Tsunako chuckled. She really needn't have rushed so much to get to school. At the rate this was going the ceremony would start at least fifteen minutes late.

Due to her confrontation with the Chihuahua, Tsunako had had to run to get to school on time, not quite understanding why but knowing from her memories that being late was a bad idea.

She had succeeded in arriving at the school with two minutes to spare, and had silently berated herself for not training hard enough upon arrival. She should have managed with a comfortable five minutes, at the very least!

This weakness – because that is what it was – could not be allowed to continue.

(Because weakness meant not being able to protect and not being able to protect meant corpses on the ground bearing too familiar faces, meant lying bound and helpless as slowly, one by one, her friends are brought into a room and all she can hear are hellish wails of agony and mad cackling while she can only sit and beg and nostoppleasenotthem-)

"Tsuna!"

Tsunako turned sharply to the source of the sound, eyes alert, poised to strike -

And then she felt ridiculous… because there was Hana, innocent, seven-year-old,Hana, and Tsuna was allowing her memories to control her again.

"Hana," Tsuna's whole demeanor shifted from threatening to calm and laidback as she greeted the girl with a smile, "How are you?"

Hana blinked a bit, having frozen on spot when Tsunako turned around, but then shook her head, as though physically ridding herself of some confusion. She walked the rest of the distance towards Tsuna, grimacing, "I'm surrounded by the very slobbering monkeys I spent all summer avoiding, how do you think I am?"

Tsuna laughed – because what else could she expect from the child-hating girl? – before responding, "Surely it can't be that bad. You haven't even been here five minutes."

"And it's already been five minutes too long." Hana huffed. At Tsuna's careless laugh, which obviously proved to Hana that the brunette didn't grasp the full horror of the situation, Hana pressed, "No. You don't understand. It's been five minutes and one of the monkeys in class has already tried to touch me with his disgusting finger. Do you know where that disgusting finger was before that? Do you? It was in his nose, Tsuna!" Hana took an almost threatening step towards Tsunako, "Inside. His. Nostril!" Hana hissed viciously. Her face was one of pure revulsion. "Animals, the lot of them."

"Monkeys?" Tsuna bemusedly contributed.

Not picking up on the sarcasm in Tsuna's words or choosing to ignore it, Hana continued, "Exactly."

"You don't like kids in general, but it's especially the boys you dislike, right?" Tsunako asked. With a nod from Hana, she continued, "Then why don't you just go to an all girls elementary school? Or get homeschooled for elementary? You're obviously smart enough to even skip a few grades if you want to."

Hana puffed up in pride at the last comment and coolly flipped her glossy black hair over her shoulder, "Of course I am. It would be insulting if you thought I was on the same intellectual level as these monkeys." Taking a critical look at the children around her, she sniffed. "But there are problems with your suggestion. First, there are no all-girls elementary schools near Namimori. Second, my mom would never allow me to be homeschooled. She's under the impression that my social circle is lacking – as if I would find anyone to be friends with here." Hana wrinkled her nose, disgusted with the mere prospect of befriending any of the buffoons around her. Tsunako was an exception; she doubted she'd find more children her. "Besides, I have a friend here I can't leave. She wouldn't survive even a week without me-"

Hana abruptly cut herself off, eyes widening. With a hissed "Damn it", she grabbed Tsunako's hand and dragged the small brunette to the nearest row of students.

Tsunako allowed herself to be dragged, knowing Hana wasn't prone to dramatics or bursts of fancy. If she was dragging Tsunako without an explanation, there was a good reason for it.

Because of that, Tsunako heightened her senses in order to prepare herself for whatever had affected Hana like that. Immediately, she noticed there was a rapidly spreading feeling of tension in the air. The noise in the courtyard had all but disappeared, the only sound the pitter-patter of children's footsteps as students scrambled to file neatly into rows.

Tsunako watched in utter confusion as the previously uncontrollable kids all simultaneously took on the appearance of neat, quiet, well-behaved little angels.

Except they were… trembling?

There was fear in the air, but Tsunako didn't worry. This wasn't true fear. It wasn't the terror of Death, of torture, of loss.

Rather, it was similar to the fear of getting caught with one's hand in the cookie jar, or the fear of getting a nonlethal injury. It was the fear of sweating nervous bullets – no reason for Tsunako to get involved.

But she was curious - what could have possibly inspired such an abrupt change in the children?

The answer was not hard to find. All she had to do was follow the direction of the flittering gazes of the students.

All of them were looking at a single boy.

The boy stood in the center of the courtyard, in view of all those there. He had an almost-but-not-quite arrogant look on his face that suggested he either did not like crowds or thought that the particular people around him were so far below him they were hardly even the same species. Tsunako was betting on both.

He was rather beautiful, for a boy who was at most nine years old, in a feral sort of way, and yet Tsunako was sure that that was not the reason all eyes were glued on him. Instead of his silky black hair and aristocratic features, Tsunako was pretty sure it had more to do with the two metal tonfas he held in his hands and the glimmer of battle lust in his steely grey eyes. An aura of absolute dominance encompassed the boy, and Tsunako had to admit she was impressed.

The war commander in her couldn't help but approve of the boy's aura and stance. Both could use improvements, of course, but to display such prowess at such a young age showed remarkable potential. He'd be a good asset in war. The warrior in her couldn't help but want to watch him on the battlefield.

He had the potential to be magnificent. That battle-lust, if it could be properly honed-

And then Tsunako felt dirty – just how far had the war and the politics of being Minister corrupted her that her first instinct upon seeing a child was wonder how good a soldier he'd be?

The body was new and innocent, but the soul was oh so corrupted.

Tsunako disgusted herself.

And more than that, she scared herself.

(Just how much of herself had she sacrificed in the war? How much had she lost with each death?)

Even ten years later, the war haunted her.

Scowling, Tsunako forced her gaze away from the boy. She methodically surveyed the people she'd be spending her following years with. She couldn't help but be amused by all their childishly panicked faces, as though this small boy was the most frightening thing they had ever seen. Then again, perhaps he was. There had been no wars, no genocide, no great atrocities in recent years in this dimension. A steely-eyed boy with what looked like a penchant for battle could be their greatest nightmare.

She noted some of the students were shifting their eyes, as though scared that the boy would spot them staring and punish them in some way, yet unable to look away for long.

Automatically, her eyes searched for her brother. She found Yoshimune some rows down to her right, standing rigidly, eyes wide like a fish's, mouth locked in a tight line, beads of nervous sweat making their way down his forehead.

Poor thing was as scared as everyone else.

Tsunako sighed. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. Her brother surely didn't want her to comfort him in front of this crowd. In fact, she rather doubted he'd want her to comfort him in privacy either. Either way, it wasn't like this grey-eyed boy posed a true threat to her family. Her brother would simply have to cope with his fear for a little while. She thought everyone was being rather dramatic anyway. The way they acted you'd think the boy was the devil himself.

Moving along the rows of children, Tsunako spotted something interesting.

Oh? The smiling boy with the fangirls isn't afraid. How curious.

And, indeed, he wasn't.

The boy was smiling widely in a carefree manner; absolutely zero tension in his body. Instead, he seemed seconds away from laughing. Tsunako was about to dismiss him as a happy-go-lucky boy with no sense of danger when she spotted an alertness in him that she had only ever seen in experienced veterans.

Curious indeed.

With a bit of pride, Tsunako also noted that Hana did not sport the same wide-eyed expression as the others. If anything, she looked more irritated by the general pathetic-ness of those around her than fearful.

A bit to her front, a cute brown-haired girl with a distinctly Nana-ish feeling to her was also unafraid. Instead, in an eerie resemblance to Nana, she seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere and, honestly, everything around her in general – and were those flowers in the background?

(Tsunako was impressed. She had only ever known Nana who possessed that technique. She had thought it was unique to her mother, but if this young girl could do it, then perhaps Tsunako could learn?)

There were other girls that weren't afraid of the boy. The blushes on their faces made Tsunako retract her earlier statement about the boy. Looks like some students were staring at him because of his silky black hair and aristocratic features.

This generation really does start young.

Belatedly, Tsunako realized that the Namimori Elementary principal was following the tonfa-wielding boy to the stage that had been set up in the courtyard for the Opening Ceremony.

The principal gave his speech, the boy with the strong battle lust standing threateningly behind him. Made one wonder whom exactly the power behind the school was.

If someone were to ask Tsunako about the speech later, she wouldn't have been able to repeat even a word of it.

As they sang the school anthem, Tsunako only had one thought in her head.

Elementary School had finally started.

Oh, Merlin.

Tsunako was in her brother's class.

No, he wasn't happy about it.

Tsunako had been one of the first to enter her assigned classroom, the rest of the students spending as much time as possible chatting with their friends before having to attend class. Happily, the small brunette looked at the blackboard to find that she was seated near a window, with a great view of the front of the school gates. A boy named With nothing to do and some time to spare The look he gave her when he saw her quietly sitting near a window of their classroom was one full of such horror Tsunako had to stifle a laugh. She didn't think she'd done a very good job, because he shot her an angry glare before sitting in his assigned seat as well.

Hana wasn't in her class, which was unfortunate, but they still had their weekly Japanese History study sessions (Hana had forbidden her from calling them tutoring sessions for some reason. She was oddly insistent about it), so Tsunako knew they'd still see each other often.

And oh! Look at that! The smiling boy with the baseball bat was also in her class, and he had brought at least half of his fangirl hoard with him.

They really are so very young…

Once all the students were seated and the teacher had scolded a pair of students who thought they could sit outside the seating arrangement without him noticing, class started.

They started with Math first, followed by Japanese History, English, and… Homemaking. For girls exclusively. While Arts and Handicrafts were for boys exclusively.

Tsunako valiantly resisted the urge to march up to the principal and go on a feminist diatribe. She idly wished Hermione was there with her. The feisty girl wouldn't have even tried to hold back.

After lunch they would have Japanese, Science, and finally Physical Education.

A mere three classes in, Tsunako was horrified.

Class was-

Utterly-

Dreadfully-

Appallingly-

Mind-numbingly-

Boring.

It wasn't like she hadn't expected it. This was Elementary school, after all. Even Ron would have thought it was easy. Plus, Tsunako had always been good at math, and English was hardly a challenge for obvious reasons.

But, the only person she had really talked to who was her physical age was Hana (Yoshimune didn't count as she could hardly carry out a conversation longer than five minutes with the boy). After two weeks of only Hana, and studying advanced Japanese History books along with the intelligent girl, Tsunako had forgotten what was normally expected of an elementary school student to know.

Hence, she had forgotten how horrifying easy and boring classes would be.

There was something interesting Tsunako had discovered, however.

And that was that Tsunako was, apparently, a Very Bad Student.

Tsunako had known this, of course. It was hard not to when she saw her atrocious test grades lying messily on her desk. Or when Hana looked like her eyes would pop out of her head when she found Tsunako reading a book. But she hadn't realized exactly how bad of a student she was.

Nor had she realized that the entire school knew how bad of a student she was.

Or how very not shy they were about expressing their knowledge of her being a bad student.

In fact, right now was an excellent example.

"Sawada," the teacher started, only to find both Tsunako and her brother looking attentively. "Ah, Sawada Tsunako," he clarified, "come to the board and write 'Hello. My name is Sawada Tsunako. I am seven years old' in English."

Immediately, the class broke out into snickers.

"Sensei! We'll be here forever if she tries to write in English! It's almost time for lunch!"

"Dame-Tsuna can't even talk in Japanese, she won't be able to write in English!"

"Try not to fail too hard, Dame-Tsuna."

"Poor Yoshimune! I don't know what I'd do if I had a sister that was so stupid."

A glance at the brother in question showed that he, too, was busy snickering with the classmate to his right as well. He looked giddy at what he perceived to be her inevitable humiliation. Well, she hadn't expected any support from there.

Nor did she need any support.

It was not the first time Tsunako had been mocked. As Hyacinth, she had been called naïve, incompetent, delusional, and other variations of such by the Ministry and most especially the pink toad Umbridge during her fifth year. Frankly, she much preferred those rather meaningless insults to the rumors that she was secretly Voldemort's successor and Evil Incarnate.

So being mocked was nothing new.

What Tsunako was surprised by, though, was that the teacher didn't do anything to stop them.

Tsunako took a moment to feel sorry for her past self. No wonder she had dreaded school so much. It seemed she was met with isolation and humiliation by her classmates and was provided no support at all from her brother or teacher.

Rifling through her memories, Tsunako realized that after being subjected to her classmates' insults, her past self would barely manage to hold in her tears until lunch, where she would run off somewhere to loudly sob. She would hug herself, alone, as she had always been, and wait for classes to start again so she could be subjected to more pain and humiliation.

Angry on behalf of her past self, Tsunako slowly and wordlessly stood up from her desk and silently made her way to the board, head held high.

Her classmates continued to jeer at her, one even trying to trip her on her way to the board. Tsunako avoided the leg and resisted the childish temptation to step on the boy's foot.

Still silent, she took the chalk from her teacher's hand. With neat penmanship drilled into her by Aunt Cissa, Tsunako calmly wrote the required words on the board. At first, her classmates continued to loudly snicker and make fun of her, but with every word that was written and no noise of correction from their teacher, the students became quieter.

Once she was done, Tsunako turned to her teacher. He wasn't looking at her, however, instead gaping at the board and what she had written.

Seeing as she wasn't garnering a response, Tsunako frowned. If this was the reaction her past self had gotten every time she did something positive, there was no wonder why she had such deep self-esteem issues.

"Thank you for your time. I've been trying to improve my English this summer." Tsunako paused, but now her teacher was gaping at her instead of the board. "I hope it's correct," She said.

In English, of course.

Finally, the teacher got over his shock enough to answer, "N-no, that's quite correct, Sawada. Well done."

Murmurs broke out in the classroom. Dame-Tsuna had gotten a question right? And now she was speaking in English? Impossible. Not the stupid, useless Dame-Tsuna they knew.

With the same dignified pace, Tsunako returned to here desk.

As soon as she sat down, Tsunako regretted her actions. The shocked look on her classmates' faces had been vindicating, but what she had done was foolish and much too Gryffindorish. She could hear Draco nag her now. Tsunako shouldn't have spoken to the teacher in English, especially since she had a flawless British accent. Now she had only brought more attention to herself- exactly what she didn't want.

But she hadn't been able to help herself. Tsunako had always had a bit of a temper, something she was famous for in fifth year, and while most of it had been cooled and hardened, she was still prone to impulsive decisions now and then. It was thinking of a little seven-year-old girl, shy and all too sensitive to the words of others, facing the daily goads and insults and crushing loneliness that made her act the way she had. She had wanted to show these people that they were wrong about that little girl. She had felt she owed it to the little girl to prove to everyone exactly what she had the potential to be.

The whispers among her classmates continued all throughout class, and there was nothing the teacher could do to stop them.

By the end of class, everyone agreed that it had to have been a fluke.

There was no way Dame-Tsuna knew English, after all.

There was no way Dame-Tsuna was good at something.

A pity. It would have been easier for them if they had just accepted the change, as the next few years would prove them wrong again and again.

It was lunch and Tsunako was just walking back to her classroom after having finished her bento when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Oi, Dame-Tsuna."

Dame-Tsuna? Wasn't that what her classmates had called her?

Figuring there couldn't be that many Dame-Tsuna's out there, Tsunako turned around to find that she was correct, and a big – for an elementary student – kid was standing in front of her.

Dame-Tsuna, huh? Doesn't that mean No-Good Tsuna? What is it about me that makes people unable to resist the temptation of assigning me a hyphenated title? Girl-Who-Lived, Heiress-of-Slytherin, Britain's-Hope, Woman-Who-Conquered… Dame-Tsuna.

Really, there had to be something about her that simply demanded people give her a hyphenated name if she had been given one for being below average.

Somehow, she was sure this was all Fate's fault.

Dame-Tsuna, huh…

Tsunako giggled at the incongruence of it all. She had never been assigned a title due to incompetence. Due to a prophecy, yes. Due to being a hero, yes. Due to being the root of all Evil, yes.

To have people give her a title simply because she wasn't good at things… Well, it was rather refreshing. She'd much rather be No-Good than some inhuman paragon of Light or Dark.

"Yes?" Tsuanko replied politely to the boy – she couldn't quite remember his name from her memories, and she had a habit of zoning out whenever she rifled through her previous self's memories, so she couldn't do it now. She'd just have to remember to look it up later.

The boy seemed off put by her relaxed response for a second, before quickly recovering. "Give me your lunch!" He demanded, extending his hand as though expecting her to place an obento on it.

Tsunako thought about her possible courses of action. This was a clear bullying attempt – and wasn't that a funny thought. When was the last time Tsunako had suffered through something as petty as bullying – and she was really quite against it on a moral level. She could ignore the bully or confront him, although the latter didn't sit well with her as even if she was seven in body she was twenty-seven in mind, and beating an elementary school kid was rather undignified at her age.

But it might be a bit suspicious if she started fighting against all her bullies when not long ago she had been cowering from them. She had already decided she wouldn't sacrifice her grades to keeping attention away from herself, if she suddenly revealed herself to be a trained fighter on top of a good student, people might start to question things.

Plus, she had already eaten her bento. The only bento she had left was the one she usually pushed onto Hana. She had planned on going to find the black-haired girl and force her to eat her cooking again, but maybe Hana was tired of being her culinary guinea pig.

This boy would not be without his uses.

And so, she fished out the second bento box from her bag and handed it to the boy. "Here you go."

She waited patiently for a few moments but the boy still hadn't moved from where was standing smirking at her victoriously. "Well? Aren't you going to eat it?" She asked.

The boy bristled, "Of course I'm going to eat it!"

"Well then, eat it." Tsunako huffed, a tad impatiently. She didn't want to be late for her Japanese, after all. It wouldn't work well with her new resolve to be a good student.

"Then I'm eating it right now! In front of you! You can watch while I eat your lunch!"

"Thank you."

Still standing, the boy unwrapped her bento and proceeded to grab an octopus roll with his chopsticks. He took a large bite, exaggeratedly chewing it for her benefit, no doubt. Tsunako thought he looked a bit like a camel. In a show of manners that would have horrified Aunt Cissa, the boy wolfed down half of the bento in a span of a few seconds, getting rice all over his face.

Deeming the boy had eaten enough to form an opinion, Tsunako prompted, "Well?"

"Well, what?" The boy briefly stopped eating to ask, talking with his mouth open. Oh dear, this was probably what Aunt Cissa's nightmares were made of.

"Well, what do you think about it?" Tsunako clarified.

At the boy's blank stare, Tsunako frowned. "Is it good? Do you like it? Does it need more salt?" Tsunako huffed. She hadn't been this slow when she was seven, had she? Surely not.

"Wh-What?" The boy seemed even more confused.

Tsunako huffed again. At this rate she really was going to be late. "The food. What do you think about the food? Does it need anything? Are there any improvements I can make?" Tsunako's cooking had been good before, and had gotten better these past two weeks she spent cooking with Nana, but she was still getting used to Japanese cuisine. There was still a certain something that was missing from her dishes that was there in her mother's.

"Y-You cooked this?" The boy asked, incredulous. He looked between the half-empty obento box in his hand and her repeatedly, as though not understanding what she was saying.

"Yes."

"Then it's disgusting! I've never tasted anything nastier!" He shouted, but Tsunako noticed he didn't throw out the bento box in his hand.

"All right," Tsunako nodded in acceptance. Critics were the professional's best friends, after all, "But what exactly do you dislike? Is it the salt level? Is it the broccoli?" Tsunako paused, "Oh, I knew I should've cooked the broccoli with soy instead of teriyaki… My teriyaki isn't nearly good enough yet…"

"EWW! THIS IS BROCCOLI?!"

Tsunako deadpanned. What did he think the green tree-looking food was? "Don't be ridiculous, of course it is. Now eat up. If you don't eat your vegetables then you'll never grow."

The boy pointed an accusing finger at her, "But you're tiny! I'm bigger than you."

Tsunako felt an eyebrow twitch in irritation. Her height had always been a bit of a sore point for her. "Clearly I don't eat enough vegetables. Now be a good boy and eat the broccoli." Tsunako checked her watch, "In the next five minutes, preferably. After that classes start."

"But-"

She then shot the boy a look that had stopped even her godson in his most mischievous of moods in his tracks. She had plenty of practice with it – Teddy had a knack for getting into trouble that she blamed entirely on the Marauder genes in him. More than once she had had to use the look to get him to quiet down and behave.

This boy was no more resistant to it than Teddy had been.

Obediently, he resumed eating his broccoli. Once all the food in the bento was gone, Tsunako took back the box from the boy's hands and put it in her bag.

"There, now was that so hard? Broccoli isn't that bad, is it?" She chided softly.

The boy looked away, "Vegetables are still gross."

Tsunako sighed. Ah, well. Every good commander knew that winning a battle did not mean winning a war. And managing to get children to like vegetables was a very long war indeed.

Hearing the chiming of the bell, Tsunako swiftly said good-bye to the boy and rushed to her class, not sparing him a second thought.

It only occurred to Tsunako later that her first attempt at being bullied since she got here had been pitifully poor.