Izuna smirked and crumpled the letter that had been sent to him and his brother by his sister-in-law's brother. It would seem that the Malfoy brat had absolutely none of his aunt's spirit, which was a bit of a shame, since that would be about all that the boy would have going for him. Being such a weak coward, the Malfoy boy would never make anything approaching a ninja. He'd been spoiled in just about every way a child could be by his family, and it had completely ruined him.
In fact, almost every "child" in this school was spoiled and almost completely lacking in spirit as well as potential. There were a few standouts however, a few students who hadn't panicked and then broken when faced with minimal violence from a superior force during the assessments though. Only two students out of the hundreds they had tested had fought back, Cho Chang who'd gone on the offensive using some sort of Taijutsu that she'd learned at some point during her childhood, and Harry Potter who'd kept fighting even after his spectacles had been taken unlike the two other half-blind students who'd completely broken when they'd had the same happen to them heedless of the fact that he was completely outclassed.
Strengthwise, Chang and Potter were in the civilian range, but both had the potential to go further even if it was a bit too late to train them to reach a level beyond that of an average member of one of the better clans even if they trained relentlessly for the rest of their lives. Some things had to be learned early, and neither of them or any of the other students for that matter would ever achieve the needed flexibility that he and Madara and every able-bodied Uchiha possessed thanks to the training that had started practically the instant they had been able to pull themselves into a standing position. He seriously doubted that Chang, Potter, or any of the other standouts would train themselves to that level though. This strange world seemingly had no want or need for anyone with that level of skill in the ninja arts, even considering the existence of the so-called Dark Lord.
Based on the average level of skill when it came to running, and the nature of the few wizarding sports that hadn't been invented by muggleborns that they'd heard about in the brief discussions they'd had with the other teachers, physical pursuits weren't held in high value which was worse than a pity. Most of what it was to be to be ninja was physical. To be a ninja one needed to be able to run and fight, as well as climb and move soundlessly in enemy territory. A ninja had to be strong, fast, and flexible both mentally and physically.
He and Madara had been hired to teach the students to defend themselves, which meant that they were being paid to train the students in the one thing they were qualified in, and that was the shinobi arts. Unfortunately, even with their best efforts, few if any of these children would be able to become something approaching ninja in the limited time they had, Madara's vow to teach the students how to be as good as Senju notwithstanding. The process of becoming a proper ninja rather than jutsu fodder was something that took years, and learning to truly be a ninja, especially a ninja of his and Madara's caliber, was something that took a lifetime of dedicated effort.
"Anything interesting come in?" Madara asked as he tended to the owl that had been waiting for a treat or something, pulling him out of his introspection.
"Just a letter from your nephew's father." he said as he gestured to the crumpled ball of parchment that was on the floor behind him.
"He say anything worth listening to?" Madara asked, not moving to pick up the letter.
"No. Just whined about the fact that we weren't properly mollycoddling his only offspring. I'm surprised that he doesn't still wipe the boy's ass." he replied.
Madara went back to fussing over the owl who basked in the attention in a way that none of his hawks did, forgetting the existance of the parchment on the floor. His brother trusted his judgement when it came to missives received, since he knew that he wouldn't geliberately keep anything important from him. As far as he was concerned, the constant letters requesting a truce from Hashirama weren't important. As Tobirama had said long ago when they'd encountered each-other as kids, there would never be peace between their clans, and that incident that had happened when Hashirama and Madara had gone and befriended each-other had proven it.
As Madara handed the owl yet another treat, Lucia walked in from wherever the hell she'd been and spotted the creature.
"What did my brother have to say?" the woman asked curiously.
"Nothing important." Madara replied.
The woman shrugged before moving towards the room that she'd commandeered forcing him to share a room with Madara which was something he hadn't willingly done since he was twelve and Madara was going through that overprotective phase he went through after he'd gotten wounded on the battlefield and it had looked like he might go to join his three elder brothers whod gone on before them in the afterlife. The woman seemed to like her brother about as much as she liked Madara, which was not at all. Apparently the man had gotten on her case for not being married one too many times, and then when the woman had thought that she would be able to live her life in unencumbered freedom Lucius Malfoy had handed his sister over to pay off a gambling debt.
Madara had the devil's own luck when it came to gambling, even when drunk. Especially when drunk. About the only people who could beat Madara on the gambling front would be the Uzumaki. Whether or not Madara's luck had held in this case was somewhat debatable considering exactly what he won and how much he wanted it.
In another part of the castle, Harry was carefully examining his glasses uncertain as to whether or not he dared to put them on. Ron had led him back into the castle following the rather harrowing Defense Against the Dark Arts class that ended with half the students being sent into the hospital wing - himself not included - because he hadn't been certain as to whether his glasses had been tampered with or not. Hermione had checked the glasses over for curses and had found none, but that wasn't proof of anything since the Asian professors more than likely knew a number of obscure curses that wouldn't be detectable using the standard spells that Hermione knew.
He could track movement with a near uncanny accuracy even in near absolute darkness, but that wouldn't be very helpful in his classes however. Things that stood still were incredibly blurry, and unfortunately blackboards that held important information such as potions recipes didn't move about nor did the text that may be written on them. Therefore he would need his glasses which he wasn't sure were safe to put back on. Each time he tried, he found himself flashing back to that broom incident in First Year.
It was a little early for the murder attempts to start, but then again the Uchiha had already proven themselves to be overachievers.
There was a sigh to his right.
"Just put them on Harry." an exasperated Hermione said.
Bracing himself, he put his glasses on half expecting to die as he did so. Nothing happened aside from the looks of almost morbid anticipation on the faces of his housemates becoming visible before they all turned away from him as one. Apparently, he'd been spared this time.