Prologue

The Rouen School For Supernatural Entities was a medieval castle that spanned 11 acres upon a flat-topped wide hill that ended abruptly with a dramatic, nearly vertical 400 foot drop. The view of rolling green hills and grassy moor lands was said to be spectacular, and, on a fine day, it was said that one could admire the sun glistening upon the sea miles to the south. Most people were never able to discover whether this was true. For the school was a special one, and few were invited to attend. It was considered an immense honour to be chosen.

The grounds stretched for miles in either direction, and encompassed the moors, a frigid black lake, and an eerie pine forest, before ending with a mountainous hill on the horizon. Students were allowed to explore the grounds to their heart's content, but they were not allowed on the south side of the lake. It was alleged that a jabberwocky had taken up residence there, feasting on fish and swimming in the shadowy waters closest to the cave in which it lived.

The school had an illustrious history. It was built in the 12th century by Duke Andre de Rouen, a French warlock, who wanted to give young magical beings a place in which they could learn the skills necessary to survive in a world that condemned them. He was a kind-hearted man who successfully concealed his true nature from ordinary folk for his entire life. His portrait showed him to be spindly and tall, with a thick black and silver beard and viridian eyes. One eye was paler and blind- the result, he claimed, of a night time rendezvous that went horribly wrong when he was young. The portrait hung, rather bizarrely, in the ground floor bathroom. As a result, people rarely used that particular bathroom. It felt disrespectful to answer the call of nature in the presence of Rouen, even if he was only a portrait. Rouen had had an unusual sense of humour, and had specifically demanded that his portrait be hung in the bathroom so that badly behaved students who were forced to clean the bathroom as punishment would get that creepy feeling associated with being watched.

He died a mere six months after the school was finally completed, at an eyebrow-raising 84 years of age. He was interred in a crypt in the tallest tower of the school he had dedicated his life to, and his son, who was also a warlock, became the first Master of Rouen and named it in honour of his late father.

There was a strict list of creatures who were allowed to be invited to join. Included were witches, warlocks, sorcerers, demons, furies, shifters, nymphs, fairies, elves, demigods, elementals, and many other supernatural beings, all of which were named specifically. The general gist was that a being must have human-level intelligence, and must not be a significant danger to their peers. As such, unicorns, basilisks and other beings who were less intelligent than humans were excluded from the list. Of course, being of lesser intelligence, it is highly likely they did not understand enough to be unhappy with the arrangement.

Lessons covered a variety of subjects. There were those which were offered only to supernatural beings, such as sorcery, witchcraft and divination, and there were subjects which were offered to non-magical people outside of the school, such as mathematics. The reason these subjects were offered was to give students the knowledge necessary to survive in the outside world.

Since the school had opened, it had offered sanctuary to any magical being in times of trouble, and had produced the greatest beings in the supernatural world. It was famous the world over, with students eagerly awaiting their letters by their windows on Summer Solstice. Every year, the Master of Rouen- currently the Mistress of Rouen- was given the thankless job of crushing young hopefuls' dreams as she sent letters to a select few, and didn't send letters to the vast majority. The letters would arrive with an explosive bang to alert students to their arrival. They would sit, glowing, on the window sill, the gold seal of the Athenian Owl surrounded by the annulet and the Latin phrase Scientia est potentia identifying it as a letter from Rouen. Students would then do one of two things: whoop (or squeal) excitedly, showing the letter to their proud parents, or faint abruptly, waking up to a nasty bruise and a nice surprise.

When Naruto Uzumaki awoke on 21st June, he did not expect to receive a letter from Rouen. In fact, he did not expect to be accepted into a school of magical beings at all. There were many around the world, but the one in England, The Rouen School For Supernatural Entities, was seen as the Oxbridge or perhaps Harvard of the supernatural world. So it was not surprising that he didn't think he was capable of getting into such a school. In fact, he didn't view himself as somebody who was capable of anything special at all. He intended to remain in non-magical education so that he could become a world leader someday. He knew that he was a demon, but he believed himself to be a particularly unimpressive one.

With a stretch, he sat up and yawned expansively. Scratching his backside, he shuffled towards the bathroom, his eyes at half-mast as he struggled to wake himself up. He was in the shower, washing his hair, when there was a deafening bang that sounded something like somebody detonating a tonne of C4. Startled, he opened his eyes, and shampoo ran into them. With a shriek of pain, he stumbled backwards, slipped on the soap, and fell out of the shower, taking the shower curtain with him.

"Shit!" he mumbled, digging his palms into his eyes to stop them from streaming as he lay, naked, on the floor. Within moments, he heard the frantic, thundering footsteps of his guardian on the stairs.

"Naruto!" Iruka shouted through the door, "Naruto, are you ok? What was that bang?"

And then his voice became suspicious.

"You're not pulling a prank, are you?" he asked.

"No," Naruto called, wiping his watering eyes with some toilet paper, "I fell out of the shower when I heard that bang,"

He stood up and found the thankfully dry towel. Securing it around his waist, he limped to the door- that was definitely going to bruise- and walked into his room. Iruka stood on the other side of the door, and regarded him with worried brown eyes.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," Naruto said with a grin, "I've had worse,"

Iruka grinned back for a moment, but then his expression became worried again.

"I still want to know what that bang was," he said, "You didn't mess with my potion ingredients again, did you, Naruto?"

"Geez, that only happened once!" Naruto said petulantly, "How was I supposed to know what would happen when I mixed Gorgon tears with unicorn semen?"

Iruka only sighed and scratched the scar that spanned his face, as he was wont to do when agitated. Taking this as dismissal, Naruto went to the window and pulled open the curtains, letting in the sun. He grinned at the warmth on his face and absentmindedly rested one hand on the windowsill as he opened the window with the other. Beneath his fingers, he could feel something smooth. He looked down, and gasped.

"That's impossible!" he said to himself, unaware that Iruka was watching him. With trembling fingers, he lifted the faintly glowing envelope to eye level. It was made from golden vellum and was perhaps two centimetres thick. On the front was a crest everybody magical recognised- the owl and annulet of The Rouen School For Supernatural Entities. Trembling slightly, he pulled the envelope open and pulled out the letter. His eyes raced over the text. It was addressed to "Master Naruto Uzumaki". There was no mistaking it. It was for him.

"We are delighted to offer you a place at the Rouen School For Supernatural Entities," he read slowly, his brain not really comprehending the words on the letter. He blinked as the letter was snatched from his hands.

"Have you seen the list of professors?" Iruka demanded excitedly, "Naruto, this is incredible. Look, you have Kakashi Hatake for Witchcraft! He's one of the greatest warlocks who have ever lived! He came up with ways to extract potion ingredients from difficult sources safely, and invented the chidori! And- holy shit!- Itachi Uchiha for Sorcery? Are you kidding me? He's the most powerful sorcerer in the world! They say he can summon Hades himself! Not to mention that the Mistress of Rouen is Tsunade of the Sannin! And-!"

"Iruka, calm down!" Naruto yelled, shaking his guardian roughly, "They're great- I get it!"

"Naruto, I don't think you do get it!" Iruka said, "These people are the pinnacle of the magical world! Most would kill for the opportunity to be educated by these legendary people!"

Naruto blinked again. And again.

"Holy shit! I'm going to Rouen!" he shouted, hugging Iruka tightly. Iruka made a muffled sound of pain, and Naruto let go with an apologetic wince. Like some demigods, demons were blessed- or cursed, depending upon your perspective- with enormous strength.

Approximately 200 miles away, in Sendai, a pretty pink haired girl was hugging her best friend, tears streaming down their faces, as they pored over identical letters offering them places at Rouen. In London, England, a long haired, pale eyed boy was trembling minutely as he read his own letter, while, in Washington, USA, a boy with crimson hair was scrutinising his letter, apparently apathetic. Only the faint gleam in his eyes gave away his excitement.

This story was repeated all over the world. In all, 16 hopefuls out of the possible millions were chosen to attend this prestigious school that year. Only one out of those sixteen was not surprised that he was chosen.

Sasuke Uchiha sat at his kitchen table as his father proudly congratulated him and his mother cried into a napkin. Truthfully, his elder brother looked more excited that he did.

"I'd expect nothing different from my son," his father said, "I haven't been this proud since Itachi attended. We're going out for a meal tonight, to celebrate,"

"Does Sasuke not deserve a reward?" Itachi piped up. Sasuke's father nodded, and Sasuke fought to keep the small smile off his face. He was so stoic around everyone else, yet Itachi always managed to turn him into an awestruck 7 year old again.

"You'll make an incredible sorcerer one day, son," Sasuke's father said gruffly, tucking into his breakfast, "Just like Itachi,"

At this, Sasuke's mood became dark, and Itachi worriedly paused in the middle of eating his food.

"Maybe he would rather follow his own path instead of forever treading mine," Itachi murmured. But nobody heard him. Sasuke was too busy angsting, and mother and father were too busy admiring their incredible genes.

Guys, I ask only that you review. Love it or hate it, I'd like to know why. This is, of course, loosely based on Harry Potter.