Harry Potter: Toji Potter

The Seireitei was in chaos. News of Captain Aizen's death had spread like wildfire. The serene morning had turned into a nightmare for the Gotei 13. The scene at the Central 46 compound was ghastly—blood splattered across walls, Aizen's lifeless body suspended in midair, a Zanpakutō piercing through his chest.

Lieutenant Momo Hinamori stood frozen, her wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"No… no, this can't be real," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the hilt of her sword. Memories of Aizen's kind smile and gentle words swirled in her mind. The man who had been her mentor, her guiding light—gone.

Behind her, Izuru Kira and Tōshirō Hitsugaya exchanged concerned glances.

"Momo," Hitsugaya began, his voice cautious, "you need to calm down."

But Momo didn't hear him. Her grief twisted into rage, fueled by Aizen's carefully planted doubts and manipulations.

"You knew… didn't you?" she hissed, pointing her blade at Hitsugaya. "You knew something was wrong, and you didn't stop it!"

"Momo, stop!" Hitsugaya barked, his voice firm but tinged with worry.

She lunged at him, her movements erratic. Hitsugaya deflected her attack with ease, his expression pained. Kira stepped in, blocking her next strike.

"Momo, snap out of it!" Kira pleaded.

But she was beyond reason. Rangiku Matsumoto appeared, her Zanpakutō already drawn. With swift precision, she disarmed Momo and restrained her.

"Let's get you somewhere safe," Rangiku said softly, pulling the sobbing lieutenant away.

As they left, Hitsugaya's fists clenched at his sides. "Aizen… what the hell have you done?"

Meanwhile, Ichigo, Yoruichi, and Harry moved through the labyrinthine streets of the Seireitei. Their journey was interrupted by a chilling spiritual pressure.

Byakuya Kuchiki stepped into view, his cold gaze fixed on the intruders. Behind him stood Rukia, her face pale but resolute.

"Rukia!" Ichigo shouted, but his cry was cut short by another presence.

Ganju Shiba, who had been sneaking around, trying to avoid detection, stumbled into the clearing. Byakuya's eyes narrowed as his Zanpakutō, Senbonzakura, materialized in his hand.

"Another pest," Byakuya said, his tone icy.

Before Ganju could react, Byakuya unleashed a flurry of sakura-like blades. Ganju cried out as he was severely wounded, blood staining the ground beneath him.

"Enough!" came a voice, stopping Byakuya mid-strike. Jūshirō Ukitake appeared, his expression a mix of calm and disapproval.

"Byakuya, is using Shikai against intruders allowed?" Ukitake asked, his tone light but teasing.

"The Captain-Commander permitted it," Byakuya replied stoically.

Ukitake blinked in surprise. "That's… unusual. I doubt these Ryoka are connected to the events of today."

Ichigo stepped forward, his Zanpakutō at the ready. "Enough talking. If you want a fight, let's go!"

This time, Byakuya and Ukitake took Ichigo seriously. Their combined experience and skill overwhelmed him. Though Ichigo fought valiantly, using every ounce of his strength, he was no match for the two Captains.

As Ichigo's body faltered, two swords closed in on him—one aimed to sever his arms, the other to cut him in half.

A blur of motion intercepted both strikes. Harry, his face calm and amused, effortlessly parried their attacks.

"If I wasn't here, Ichigo," Harry said, smirking, "you'd be half the man you were. Now get out of here. This looks like it'll be tough."

Ichigo hesitated, but Yoruichi yanked him back. "Listen to him. You're in no shape to fight."

Harry faced the two Captains, his hands resting casually on his Zanpakutō.

"Gentlemen," Harry began, "we need to have a little chat. There are traitors among your ranks, but they're not the ones you think. You've been outplayed by someone far more cunning."

Byakuya's grip on his Zanpakutō tightened. "Explain yourself."

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I could. But where's the fun in that?"

Before he could elaborate, the ground trembled as a new reiatsu filled the air.

Kenpachi Zaraki appeared, his crazed grin lighting up the battlefield.

"Three-on-one?" Harry remarked, tilting his head. "If you were women, I'd call this a dream come true. But three men? That's a bit problematic."

He vanished, his reiatsu disappearing entirely.

Byakuya and Kenpachi exchanged irritated glances, both frustrated at Harry's flippant exit.

Far away, Aizen, alive and well, watched the chaos unfold from his hidden vantage point.

"Everything is falling into place," he murmured, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

The stage was set, and the pawns were moving exactly as he had planned.

But as he observed Harry's presence, his eyes narrowed.

"This one… is unexpected."

With Harry gone and Ichigo injured, the group's mission to save Rukia grew more perilous by the second. As the Captains regrouped and the Ryoka pressed on, the Seireitei itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm to break.

The hidden training ground beneath Seireitei was a cavernous expanse of raw energy and ancient stones, its very air saturated with the essence of centuries of spiritual refinement. This was a place few knew of and even fewer had ever used—a perfect sanctuary for honing the skills that had grown rusty with neglect.

Yoruichi Shihōin leaned against a jagged stone pillar, her golden eyes focused on Ichigo Kurosaki, who was bent over, panting from the rigorous exercises she had already put him through.

"Pathetic," she said, her voice dripping with mock disappointment. "You've been so busy juggling Hollow, Quincy, and whatever else Harry's taught you that you've forgotten the basics. Without solid fundamentals, all those powers are just tricks. No finesse, no mastery."

Ichigo glared at her, sweat dripping down his brow. "You could've just said I needed training," he grumbled.

"And miss the chance to insult you? Not a chance," she replied, smirking.

"Now," Yoruichi continued, stepping forward and cracking her knuckles, "you're going to train in the basics until you can perform them in your sleep. Starting with Zanjutsu. Let's see if you remember how to wield that oversized cleaver of yours."

For hours, Ichigo swung his Zanpakutō under Yoruichi's critical gaze. Her corrections came fast and harsh, but gradually, his strokes became more precise, his footwork steadier.

"Good," she said finally, nodding. "Now, let's see how bad your Kido is."

Ichigo groaned. "Do I really have to—"

"Yes," Yoruichi cut him off.

Reluctantly, Ichigo raised his hands and began chanting.

"Bakudō #81: Dankū!"

A transparent barrier formed in front of him, shimmering with spiritual energy. Yoruichi inspected it, then snapped her fingers. The barrier shattered instantly.

"Terrible," she declared. "If you want to cast Kido without incantations, it needs to be flawless. Otherwise, you're wasting energy and leaving yourself wide open."

She demonstrated, forming a Bakudō #81: Dankū so stable and strong that Ichigo couldn't even scratch it with a swing of his blade.

"You see? Precision. Control. These are what separate Kido masters from amateurs. Now try again."

Ichigo gritted his teeth and tried again—and again—and again.

Over the next few days, Yoruichi drilled him relentlessly in all four basic techniques:

Zanjutsu: Mastery of swordsmanship, with emphasis on form, timing, and power.Kido: The art of spells, encompassing Bakudō, Hadō, and Kaidō (healing). Ichigo pushed himself to cast high-level Kido without incantations, perfecting even those in the 90s.Hakuda: Hand-to-hand combat, where Yoruichi's own prowess forced him to adapt or get pummeled.Hohō: Speed and agility, including mastering Shunpo and other advanced movement techniques.Harry's Arrival

As Ichigo collapsed onto the ground after a particularly brutal sparring session, a slow clap echoed through the cavern.

"Bravo," came Harry's amused voice as he stepped into view.

Ichigo groaned. "Great. Just what I needed—an audience."

Harry smirked, his hands casually in his pockets. "Don't mind me. I'm just here to admire how bad you are at being yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo snapped, sitting up.

"It means," Harry said, leaning against a wall, "that for someone with your potential, you're ridiculously inefficient. You're trying to fight like a Shinigami, a Quincy, and a Hollow all at once instead of integrating them into something uniquely yours. You're a walking identity crisis, Ichigo."

"Yeah? And what do you suggest?"

Harry's smirk widened. Without a word, he unsheathed a sword that glimmered like liquid silver, exuding an aura that made the cavern tremble.

"Watch and learn."

In an instant, Harry moved, his blade cutting through the air with blinding speed. He executed a series of techniques—Zanjutsu, Kido, Hakuda, and Hohō—all seamlessly interwoven with flashes of Hollow and Quincy energy.

Ichigo watched in stunned silence. Harry was better at using his own genetic potential than he was, wielding his powers with an elegance and control that made Ichigo's attempts seem clumsy.

Harry finished with a flourish, his spiritual energy settling around him like a calm storm.

"See?" he said, sheathing his blade. "It's not about mastering separate parts. It's about making them work together."

As the days passed, Ichigo's progress became undeniable. His swings were sharper, his Kido more precise, and his movement almost instinctive. He even managed to cast Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi without an incantation, its black coffin forming perfectly around its target.

But the looming specter of Rukia's execution hung over them all. The tension was palpable as Yoruichi and Harry watched Ichigo train, their expressions uncharacteristically serious.

"Time's almost up," Yoruichi said quietly.

Harry nodded. "He'll be ready. He has to be."

Ichigo, overhearing them, stood tall, his eyes burning with determination. "I won't let her die. Not while I can still fight."

With that, the group steeled themselves for the battles ahead. The execution was nigh, and the fate of the Soul Society—and perhaps something far greater—hung in the balance.