Disclaimer: you know what goes here...

XXX

The first day of school. That was what this amounted to. There was no greater term that could explain the chaos, the confusion, the unadulterated nervousness that pervaded the somewhat gloomy atmosphere of the Ravenclaw dorm. There was something seriously wrong if this was the atmosphere that was present when all the other three in the moderately sized room were still asleep, in a house which supposedly jumped at the chance to learn. Yes, today was shaping up to be an annoying day.

Harry had woken up at five. There was no sense in not letting his body mechanically go through the motions of a normal morning while he mentally began plotting and planning. He showered in cold water, letting the temperature shock his muscles into full wakefulness. A shadow clone had been sent out, to observe the castle. It was invisible, as he had told it to be and so, Harry was content to let the scout make his map of the castle. He didn't think it was going to discover any of the secret passageways mentioned in Hogwarts, a History, but it would no doubt give him a rudimentary map of the castle he could work with. He actually hadn't remembered this tiny insignificant detail until he was in the shower.

It was strange, Harry decided. He had spent a significant fraction of his life so far in the pursuit of becoming a shinobi. Well, not really a shinobi. He was one of a kind in this world. Nobody recognized the class of warrior he was training to be. The kind of ninja here used magic. Chakra was an unrecognisable entity if Takeda's reaction back in Diagon was anything to go by. Besides, what was he doing here anyway?

It was a startling discovery, at least when pushed to one's consciousness. He had always been vaguely aware of the fact that he didn't have a real goal. What was a real goal anyway? Was it the pursuit of normality? As his uncle had done all too long ago? Was it a desire to succeed at something? Like any number of people in Naruto? Or was it a single minded self destroying purpose, one that left your existence empty and meaningless when achieved?*cough*Sasuke*cough* There was no real answer to the question. He was in a very real and for him, unthinkable manner, purposeless. Unless you considered the clichéd 'wait and see'.

He shook his head, letting his calloused hands towel his hair. It was moments like these, when he got really confused. Richards had once said that there was no point in doing anything unless it was for a reason that mattered. Valid cause, he had called it. Then again, with the amount of star wars dialogue he had been spouting till then, it could have been his Obi Wan interpretation for all he knew.

A long time ago, when he was still pathetic and stuck in the cupboard under the stairs, he didn't have such questions to deal with. His life goal was survival. See the next sunrise. Do not give in. Do not let the Dursleys win. Keep fighting, living, existing. That was valid cause, a proper reason to exist. He hadn't cared either way. He was too young at that time to worry about the philosophical angle to his whole life. It had been his life. And he had wanted to live. And that was that. But now? What was his purpose now? Why did he exist? What cause had he sworn fealty to? What cause was he prepared to die for? To kill for? To become less than human for?

Because in the end that was what he aspired to be, wasn't it? A cold emotionless entity who could kill torture and obliterate without remorse or pity? He gave a humourless chuckle at that. His only precious person was dead of natural causes, so there went that. What was he supposed to do? He had no revenge to take. Nothing he had read or trained in till now would be of a use if he had nothing to strive for. It would be all utterly pointless.

He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. He was doing a lot of it now. He never had this problem until he had come to Hogwarts. He supposed that even waiting for something to happen was technically a goal, which was why he hadn't dipped into to the insanity pool until now. Waiting for Hogwarts. It even sounded like something someone might write a book about, or maybe a movie.

In other times, he may have been tempted to ask "what would Richards do?" However, he had no intention of having fun by scaring everyone with his eleven year old Darth Vader costume/impression. Even if he henged it to full scale. Even if there was a certain appeal to it... And he could get a clone to do it... And the look on Dumbledore's face would certainly be priceless...

Well, in any case, he would wait and watch. Even if he wasn't religious(frequent curses in Kami's name notwithstanding) he had a conviction that god would not leave him purposeless for long. No he was too valuable a piece in gods games to leave alone for too long. There was a reason his life had been totally hell for a while. There was a reason. And he would wait as he always had, in the shadows, till his purpose came too him, and then he would embrace and fulfil it, as he was chosen to do. He was a shinobi. Not another worthless clueless piece of human idiocy that traversed this planet.

And for the first time since he came to the castle, Harry truly smiled. He cloaked himself in a minor genjutsu and quickly set about dressing in what he might have called combat attire. It was black and had plenty of pockets, pockets he had taken the time to fill with stuff he considered, and used as weaponry. In two minutes, a dozen shadow clones were racing about the castle, all with animal masks, reminiscent of ANBU on their faces. They would be the information gathering team. It was time to map out the battlefield...er school.

XXX

The first day of school was a lot more interesting than Tetsuya predicted. He was quite content to ignore his dorm mates in their pursuit of quidditch glory by association. He had taken the time to wake up early and had finished his morning troubles(and troubles they were...toilets did not save your life in battle or a surprise assault). It was however, quite interesting to see how the rest of humanity went about their daily lives, the part that hadn't exactly been trained from before they could remember to be warriors and assassins. It was quite interesting to muse how the present day ninja clans were becoming less of assassins and more of battlefield force multipliers.

Ninja these days were trained fighters. They were also equipped with the one thing that made them so dangerous to sorcerers. Magic neutralizing weaponry, made of an alloy called 'black earth', the thing that had transformed the ninja of Japan from the spies and shadows they were to the more overt and highly dangerous killers of today. The secret was discovered by a blacksmith(and a crazy one at that, closest any ninja would come to a stereotypical mad scientist) who was in service to the ninja clan known as Nanashi(a name that conveniently enough means "no name"). Three years after this breakthrough, Nanashi ninja began to war against the sorcerers of southern china, using their unprecedented tactical advantage of using magic and their skills with a higher chance of success, to slaughter four hundred sorcerers in two weeks. Quite impressive for a clan with less than seventy active ninja, with less than twelve casualties to speak of, including six dead.

This shadow war, hidden from the less gifted majority of humanity at this point, Hakumei and other clans were requested to end this threat once and for all. A week later, the clan with no name became a clan with no one, and the ninja of Japan were permanently subcontracted by the Chinese and Japanese sorcerers to take out rogues. Ironically enough, the millions of sorcerers that collectively formed the eastern territories ensured that there were always crazies out there that were necessary to be eliminated. The somewhat feudal nature of magical china also ensured that the ninja were forced to...diversify.

That was four hundred years ago. Tetsuya was a prodigy of this new generation, one that was expected to learn select bits of sorcery to complement their already formidable, relatively speaking, fighting skills. Supposedly it was all part of the long term strategy to deal with the ICW. Which was all well and good until he had found that he was expected to spend seven years of his life in a long term class 6 infiltration mission. What was he supposed to do after that? Granted, this level 6 alone meant that simply by accepting, he had become an equal to his current superiors, and that his future was more or less cemented after this point(assuming of course that he survived), but it still seemed an awful waste of time. He was the best of four ninja his age. He had been taught just that little extra to help him survive, because he had shown he was dedicated. And now, he found that he was going to be stuck in a castle full of wizards, for a long long time. It was indeed the cruelest of fates.

Tetsuya paused and found himself in a hallway, and by the looks of it, right outside the great hall. Had he been so deep in thought that he had lost track of time and space? It seemed so. He shrugged and decided that he might as well help himself. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day. And today was pretty important as far as days go.

First impressions, he had been taught were vital. They acted as subconscious foundations upon which such things as opinions, trust and assumptions were built. And infiltration was THE place where first impressions matter. After all, in assassinations, the only impression that mattered was how satisfied the client was with your work. This mission was starting to become all too bothersome, and on his second day of a maximum of seven long and tiresome sounding years. Tetsuya was tempted to let out his emotions in one big cathartic roar. Unfortunately, in infiltration, that really wasn't an option. So instead he let out a sigh and went inside, deciding that he could instead observe the "interesting" people he had noted yesterday.

The great hall was empty. Then he looked at his 'magical watch'. Tetsuya's eyes twitched. 'Kuso!' he cursed mentally, moving to exit before any of the early risers got a good look at him and destroyed the impression he was told to aim for, that of a lazy individual. He was never actually sure if his instructors had been sarcastic when they mentioned that the first day and your image then was the key to success. In any event, his off the radar profile would be compromised, if his first impression was as a person who got up early on the first day of class, not the most Hufflepuff thing he ought to be doing. He turned around and found himself face to face with his head of house, Pomona Sprout. This would not end well.

"My My! Such a dedicated student I have! Its not often one finds young puffs up and early like this! And before the ravens even!...perhaps I'll finally have another one to brag to Filius about..."

While this may not have made sense to the normal individual, the fact was that the professor's current thoughts, her house pride derived desires and the general irrationality of the wizarding world she had concluded that the poor boy was a hardworking, smart student who was rising up in his eagerness to learn. Tetsuya himself was not too bothered with the technicalities. He was far more concerned with esoteric calculations based on his cover, his mission...

The young Hufflepuff paled, spun around and rapidly retreated from the area. He resolved to try harder at being ordinary. It was just that his ingrained habits were coming into play, rendering his attempts at the reflexive actions of an eleven year old (mostly in the wake up without throwing a brace of shuriken at, or decapitating nearby snoring individuals, never mind waking up later than really really early) extremely suspect. Or maybe he could turn into a extremely shy persona? It would also work, though it was not really his niche. Cowering was really not his style. But at this rate, he might just have to pursue that, which would be inimical to the web of contacts he was supposed to spin, and deal with. Shy Hufflepuffs do not politicians make.

Sprout watched the quickly disappearing figure of first year with a bewildered gaze. Well, at least she now had an example of a true hardworking 'puff, determined not to let himself be caught by 'the lethargy of first year' as her colleagues sometimes called it. She had high hopes this one was a point winner.

"Hmm, must not take compliments well..."

Above, a clone walked upside down on the ceiling in measured steps, looking at the happenings that were overhead (for him), with a raised eyebrow. For some strange reason, he was not surprised by the nonsensical insanity that had just occured. Certainly, it was odd behaviour, for a highly trained assassin. Maybe it was stress? He was young after all and everything said and done, Harry had done infiltration many many times(and quite proud of it), even if his missions could be as ordinary as learning to dance or bar tending, via shadow clones of course. Certainly, he had learnt most of his day to day skills by observation and signing up for classes, in various guises. It was amazing the things you could learn if you took the effort. Though, he hadn't managed to find an acupuncture specialist, so no mystical Haku-esque abilities. And he was so looking forward to the whole near-death-state-via-needles-in-the-neck trick too...

Due to his missions, Harry had amassed a considerable amount of hands on experience in a lot of odd jobs in the Surrey area. He would never have trouble living as a muggle again. And he probably had a head start on Potions and Herbology, the former of which might as well have been named "Ritualized cooking with magical ingredients!", while the latter was Advanced Gardening/Botany!...somewhat. Really, it was amazing how his so called ordinary skills would help him in his understanding and practice of this new power they called "magic", which at this point was becoming less magical even as the minutes ticked by...

Harry had long figured out that his chakra was somehow originated from magic. Certainly, they were not the same. He was extremely thankful his wand had not exploded when he channelled chakra through it. Though, the really bright orange yellow glow, reminiscent of a lightsaber, had weaned him away from further experiments, at least for now. Perhaps he could borrow one from a sufficiently malicious soul? At any rate, his chakra had sprung from magic, yet they were not interchangeable. They coexisted and that was that. However, this also meant that he could use the two in relatively close proximity(or devices/seals using the two) without interference or catastrophic failure/explosions. The possibilities were endless! Of course, research was required, but still. Imagine the potential that magic and fuinjutsu together had! He could make an X-Wing! Or a Millennium Falcon! Granted, he had no idea how he would go about this, or even how he might achieve the power for all of this...but...but...still, the sheer potential!

The clone shook of his thoughts before he veered off and ended up with chronic megalomania. He dispelled, letting his memories drift back to his creator. Elsewhere in the castle, other clones were also dispersing after establishing maps of the castle, or at least basic ones. He wouldn't get lost at the very least and knew several escape routes to boot. He didn't want to get too familiar or assured of his data. A magical school was bound to have quirks in space time, quirks that he could not chart. The thousand year old castle was doubtless filled with pitfalls even for the experienced campaigner. And he still had the inevitable secret passages to discover.

So Harry did the most Gryffindor thing(in his mind) that he would ever considering doing in his life. He decided to take it as it came. This was of course despite his concrete belief in the headmaster's nefarious plots concerning him, his fear of assassination(however unlikely) by the revenge seekers loyal to the latest dark lord, his surety that he was being watched by friend and foe alike, and his extreme desire to avoid fangirls. Oh and were there fangirls! They screamed it at him in his "public" appearance on the train. And he definitely did not want to imagine how the Harry-Potter-Dolls™ had been treated before they were shoved in his face, to be autographed. He was somewhat thankful his clone had hinted at aloofness. It was a bit amusing to see them regain control after a while, even if they were less likely to avoid stalking him now. That was alright, he was training himself in the art of disappearing for a while now. Harry Potter, defeater of dark lord, self trained ninja, afraid of rabid stalkers...he could see the headline now. And despite how normal Little Whining seemed, stalkers were just as common there as anywhere else.

XXX

The great hall eventually filled up, slowly of course. The various years and houses were entering at a crawl, shaking of sleep and clearly lamenting the loss of sleep and the inevitable torture of learning. It was refreshingly normal. That was not to say that harry was in any shape or form condoning the act of being normal. The Dursleys had cured him of that. But there was a certain relief that even in the midst of an armed society, where eleven year olds had access to tools and abilities that could literally reshape the world around them (conveniently ignoring his own half hearted hypocrisy in the matter) the normal "humanity" he supposed, of everyone was still intact. There were no impossible to bridge differences that could only be explained away because of magic meddling with man. In a way, he was perfectly assured of the fact that he was only slightly more odd than than the average wizard/witch.

There was no grand announcement of sorts. That had been taken care of yesterday. Today, and more specifically right now, was a time of peace, without the burden of listening to the wisdom of the really really old. Harry therefore took the time to stare at each of the teachers at the head table in turn, subtly of course. It was curious to observe the various teachers in their interactions. As far as he was concerned, the only person who had any real claim to be his teacher was Richards who had shaped him into a who he was as a person, even if he did not even know of his students abilities and tendencies. And even if he told himself that he shouldn't judge, he had an extremely troubling conviction that not only were these teachers a fraction of the person that was sensei, that some of these teachers would barely be troubled to teach, at all. The the potions professor, Snape, as his wandering clones had managed to find out, was even glaring at him in a single minded if-looks-could-kill manner, with a loathing that would not look out of place on Orochimaru. It was frankly quite disturbing.

Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, the headmaster was beaming at him (not to mention those god awful twinkling eyes that gave him a headache just looking at it), and several others but mainly him. It was perhaps even more disturbing than the glare of Snape himself. The rumours of the old mans madness did not reduce the feeling that the bearded man was peering at him as one might a chess piece. Harry resolutely turned to stare at Snape, after all, hate was something he could manage. He had done so with the Durselys for years.

Breakfast also proved one thing. Magic was remarkably efficient at keeping people thin. How else could these people shovel enough oil and fat down their throats to carry the muggle economy through the next fifty years...without reaching supertanker proportions? It meant that magic was passively assisting in keeping the body healthy, which while mostly a good thing also probably meant that any problems in magic would drastically affect the body. He would probably have to keep an eye out for the various methods by which this could be achieved. There just had to be a medical facility somewhere around here, especially if magic was as treacherous to the inexperienced and the maker of mistakes as he thought it would be. Seriously, chakra could sometimes do all sorts of weird stuff at first when he was first foraying into genjutsu. And that is to say nothing of fuinjutsu, those terribly beautiful, terribly unforgiving seals...

When he finished the most healthy breakfast he could scrounge from within the monument to unhealthiness, he found his class schedule in front of him. he looked over it, 'hmmm'ed to himself and pocketed the parchment. He did note that there were various cries of joy and despair, ostensibly about the position and timing of the various classes. in particular, he focused on the exclamations that Gryffindor and Slytherin were placed together, again. And why indeed, was the headmaster so intent upon placing two most volatile political factions in close proximity in a not too heavily monitored environment? Especially considering that by all accounts he should have ended up in Gryffindor...On the plus side, he was going to spend a lot of time with the spy who wasn't. How...amusing.

XXX

The first class he had was potions. Such a beautiful start to the day, in the presence of the one professor he seemed to inspire absolute loathing from. today looked like an excellent day to practice peace and calm genjutsu, which given his predilection with combat and assassination,as opposed to something like say, hostage negotiation, he had very little inclination to create or practice. Oh joy!

Hufflepuff was in a downright tizzy. Being the house with the greatest emphasis on cooperation and general do goodiness, the senior years had regaled the ickle firsties with tales of the bio hazards and tyranny. They did need some warning before stepping foot in the minefield that was Snape's dungeon. As one muggleborn whispered, it was stepping foot in the lair of a level boss you just couldn't do anything about but salute and die...

A little while later, he found himself in the actual potions classroom, and wondered what sort of sick fantasy buff had worked at Hogwarts. Unless of course, considering the 1000 year history, it was the other way round.

In any case, Snape swooped into class with the whole shebang, banging the door open, billowing cloak, murderous expression...you just had to give the guy points for effort. His sneer was cut to perfection, and Harry found himself curious to the making of the man who seemed to be going for an Ibiki experience. The greasy hair was in no way less an affront to sight than the scarred head of the T&I expert was. And when he began to call roll, the utter dripping malevolence was tsukiyomi gold. How anyone could make each and every name sound like a personalized insult was beyond him. And at his name, he half snorted, raised a greasy eyebrow and drawled with a tone drowning in sar(c)hasm. "Ah, Yes" he said, softly"Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity". Although the effect may have been ruined when Harry appeared to be engrossed in studying his face with not too disguised glee and fascination.

However, it seemed with the name of the spy, "Watanabe, Tetsuya" (which ironically enough was was the actual way to say that name) his voice seemed less inclined to insult anyone. Which meant that the good evil professor had more than a little inkling as to what or who the friendly black haired shinobi was. Curious.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and..."

As he listened to Snape's speech, he wondered exactly what the man was trying to accomplish. Fear was not really conducive to a teaching environment. Then why was the man practically screaming "Fear Me!" in his every move? It was like he was used to being feared and in control. It was also very clear that the man cared as much for teaching this class as he might have cared for pink ponies and rainbows. And why did the man clearly hate him? Perhaps he was one of those who very clearly did not like the fact that some magical accident in his presence had made Lord-Whats-His-Name disappear. This was the most likely possibility, he mused. If so, the man had tremendous influence to keep himself in this position, next to children, right under Dumbledore's nose. And if he did this while going against every tenet of good teacher-ness, it was only a sign of power. Of there it was always possible the man was kept here because Dumbledore was powerful enough to override the concerns of, well everyone and for some outlandish reason implicitly trusted the man... Harry snorted mentally, "Yeah right!"

The speech had finished and the man seemed about fit to say something, but then, after glancing at Harry's eager and glee filled face with trepidation, decided against it. In seconds the instructions were on the board and Snape was looking at them with a rather irritated expression. The class began to do the potion.

The class was paired, and Harry ended up with a Hufflepuff named Susan Bones who seemed to be about average for Hogwarts, or at least what Harry assumed to pass for average here. She didn't seem much enthused about the subject, although she sent curious glances at him as they worked. Boil removal potions can keep your interest only so far.

"So...Harry Potter. You're shorter than I expected"

Harry was honestly amused. It was a rather cheesy line.

"Yes...although, I seem to be at a disadvantage. It seems I am not properly introduced to the beautiful witch in front of me?"

At the not too subtle hint(even if he remembered everyone from the sorting), Susan glanced at Snape before giving a small bow and flourish. "Susan Bones, but please, call me Susan"

Was it some kind of pureblood bloodline limit? The ability to instantly...drawl?

The next few minutes were filled with background music of a potions class. But before any more meaningful conversation could occur, somebody's potion went 'critical'. The second of whining was followed by a flash, a bang and the melting of metal and stone that the exploded potion came into contact with. It was actually eating into flesh at a very rapid rate. The screaming was put to an end when Snape finally fit to intervene and stunned the poor fellow. A few spells later, he was being floated behind the man as he rapidly disappeared outside, throwing a "Class dismissed" in between his mutterings as he left. Harry lost himself in wondering how to turn a potions accident into an effective anti-personnel explosive device. And perhaps smoke bombs could be created through potions?

The students sighed and left. It was going to one of those days...

XXX

Transfiguration was curious in its own way. Harry was quite interested in the ability to convert the world around him into sharp pointy objects. Even McGonogall could not quite repress the shudder at the maniacal gleam in his eye. She consoled herself with the thought that it was merely the son channelling his father. Yes, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, at least until she could get to what was in essence, her private stash of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. At least the boy was polite enough to be competent enough to unwittingly support her internal assertion. Somehow, just looking at him as a green eyed James potter was instinctively wrong. But there was sufficient convoluted logic to ease her discomfort in the area.

As for Harry himself, he was quite in his element, turning matchstick into needle and then into senbon and into a miniature spike. It was all too fun. Also, he was in Ravenclaw, which meant he had a license to excel, without being branded any of the singularly annoying titles that befell skilled, talented or intelligent people. It was refreshing in a way. He was no Orochimaru, but he did possess the vague and somewhat disturbing urge to tinker. It was however thankful that nobody bothered to look at his work after his initial success. Only Kami knew what they would make of the spiked finger claw with tiny skulls on its non reflective black surface. He returned it to a needle in the end, a perfect specimen for the professor to collect.

There was a lot of free time given to first years. The idea of course was familiarization, acclimatization, assimilation or whatever else they probably called this attempt to get the eleven year olds to mingle and make friends. Unsurprisingly enough, this was a product of the Dumbledore philosophy, which by the way, also produced the idea that sticking first year gryffs and snakes was a perfectly good idea, never mind that enough people respected tradition to 'continue the good fight'.

Of course, Harry had no intention of having heart warming talks with his colleagues in the dorms. In fact, he had to consciously remind himself that children lived with him, that he was biologically eleven, that he should make contact, at least for appearances sake if nothing else. So what if jutsu theory was utterly beyond these peasants. A good ninja is also a politician of sorts. His actions are viewed by others and with them he shapes the goodwill of the populace, the client, the enemy, and the comrade. And talking was a pretty big part of that.

Maybe he could boldly step out and talk to the 'shy' Hufflepuff named Tetsuya. Not only would it creep out and annoy the paranoid fellow(especially after the actions on the train), it would totally upset the poor chaps anonymity. In the Hogwarts of today, being as stalked as he was, it would destroy any chance the boy had of sneaking off to spy. After all, what did the Boy-Who-Lived see in the quiet Hufflepuff? What quality marked him as worthy of the attention of the overly famous saviour? It would be an excellent social experiment, especially considering what camouflaged clones could ferret out. It was a thought.

Charms was quite invigorating. Really, there was something about the short professor that leant an energy to the room that none of the other classes could boast. You wanted to do well. And you didn't feel too disappointed if you didn't. The subject was rather appropriately named it seemed. However, charms were not as instinctive for Harry as he would have liked.

The levitation spell, was very difficult to cast. His wand movements were precise, his enunciation of Latin perfect. The thrice damned feather refused to rise. It was just less difficult to reign in his chakra from responding to the sheer will he was exerting to magically float the feather. In the end he managed it, thankfully. The idea that he was incapable of the basic charm was something he couldn't contemplate. Sure these spells were flashy, but the behind the scenes potential of magic was astounding! The traps he could create with a wave! The ambushes he could perfect! The pranks he could subtly inflict upon the rest of the school! 'Where did the last one come from I wonder...'

Herbology was quite bland. Compared to the excitement of potions or the possibilities of transfiguration, plants were so boring. The myriads of moving and audible plants in the greenhouse were an excellent distraction. But it wasn't really all that great. It was far more interesting to watch how the plants reacted when clones began to inject chakra here and there. Sprout would never look more annoyed in her life. Especially since it wasn't magic that was making the plants weird.

Weirder than 'normal' magical plants anyway.

XXX

In all this madness, Tetsuya the magical ninja (Blast these British! Even I'm saying the word..."magic"!) was plodding around trying not to become noticed. It was bad enough his head of house now seemed to have an eagle eye on him. But it seemed that he was being spied on, constantly. Oh he could sense their stares, the rising hair on his neck. But he could never catch them, whoever it was. And he had even tried to send shuriken at them once, at a speed no wand waver in this castle could possibly dodge or defend, save Dumbledore. And even he would leave a sign if defending. No, this was somebody or something far more sinister. He was being stalked by ninja, and one that was far better than him. It could only be...HIM!

One step above the chain of command, Taka was duly informed that a psycho super ninja was stalking the operative. He pursed his lips and told the boy to be careful. What else was he supposed to do?

Snape was told, after the report had passed a couple of hands that somebody was being stalked in the castle. When he tried to raise it with the headmaster, he was told "Harry obviously must get used to these things. Though, it is nice of you to help him in this manner. Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop?"

Needless to say, the dungeons were saved from the inevitable din only thanks to the miracle of silencing charms.

Defence Against Dark Arts, taught by the stuttering mess called Quirrel was incredibly bothersome, his teaching irksome, and the whole hour was boredom. Surely this was enough evidence to put that twinkly eyed menace to society in a nice windowless white room, wearing a nice tight jacket *hint*hint*nudge*nudge*.

Even the stuttering was suspect. Seriously, the guy was way too bad an actor to not be called on it. Harry concluded that either he was a mass murderer or a child molester. He practised instead, trying to levitate the table. He should have been rewarded for not trying to transfigure it into something that was just enough to eat the professor, like a mouse or even a cat.

The library was a right sanctuary after trying classes. Madame Pince was probably a ninja in a past life if her vigilance in the library was anything to go by. She was quite particular about a lot of things, especially noise. Not that Harry minded. Too much noise made him twitchy. especially in a quiet place where he would meditate.

Magical books were of various and often dubious quality. There was very little that he found interest in though Arithmancy was advanced mathematics and Ancient Runes were somewhat similar to sealing. Both were slow but were effective in the beyond direct combat manner most magic tended to be. It was another matter that It would be quite a while before he used either. But it was interesting all the same. Considering that he intended to survive till he was at least a right geezer, it was useful priming material.

XXX

It was night, and class was a far memory. Draco Malfoy plotted in his empty dorm. Seizing power in Slytherin had been accomplished easily. His Father's name carried too much weight for anything else to have happened. It rankled a bit that he was unable to do anything of his own, that his power was merely a product of the fact that he was the son of Lucius Abraxan Malfoy. But his father's lessons had been thoroughly learnt. Power was precious. Too precious to let pride get in the way. Too precious for anything at all to get in the way. Love, Joy, Hate, Sorrow, Compassion, they were all obstacles to power. He was Slytherin, ambitious and cunning. He would prevail.

And at the moment, all his thoughts were directed upon his most hated individual in Hogwarts...that detestable mercenary. It was a blight upon the Malfoy name, to defer to this alien. It was one thing to grovel before the all powerful epitome of wizardry, The Dark Lord. It was another entirely to have to grovel before this whelp of a wizard, a foreign cur, undeserving of the magic he used and the wand he possessed. He ruled first year Slytherin. It was time to use his dominion to greater effect. "Tetsuya Watanabe ...You will die."

XXX

In the midst of all this madness, one forgotten creature plodded on with vicious purpose. Lord Voldemort directed his willing slave about its various tasks, quietly plotting the conquest of the wizarding world. Through passive legilimency, he had captured a snapshot of almost every single wizard and witch that existed in the castle. Fools, every last one of them. Pureblood fools, Mudblood fools, Halfblood fools...what separated them all save the degree of their foolishness? Dumbledore was the biggest fool of them all. Surely, the old coot had realised that resistance was futile? That he, the greatest sorcerer the world had ever seen, was destined to claw back into life and power? These ignorant masses would soon be under his command, overt or otherwise. Nothing would stand in his way!... just as soon as he got his hands on that blasted stone.

The going was slow. Quirrel was a pathetic wizard. He was stupid, was weak magically, and spent way too much time on useless activities. What part of he was going to die anyway did the poor fellow not understand anyway? This was exactly why he needed to speed up his inevitable return. At least his "loyal" Death Eaters did not not have any ambiguity about what their positions and life expectancy. You messed up one too many times and you die. There was none of that "But master! shouldn't we take care of Potter now?" crap. Besides, Potter could wait. Even casting a worthwhile cruciatus would strain this pathetic vessel too far. There was plenty of time for world domination and the killing of annoying enemies after he was back at full strength. He was immortal, and time was a mere annoyance, but damn if wasn't an effective annoyance it was.

In the mean time he would have to continue this useless game. Dumbledore, fool that he was, thought that Quirrel was merely a servant of the Dark Lord. It may have been true, but without the whole truth, it was useless information. The Headmaster did not suspect that his greatest foe since Grindelwald was a parasitic organism on Quirrel's head. The poor pitying glances that clearly invited the fallen man to 'repent' and return to the fold churned his phantasmal stomach. Quirrel was not a dark wizard by the conventional definition. And he himself had no aura or signature as a spirit, though if by some chance his vessel failed, the wards would push him out. Which reminded him, it would soon be time to begin the dosage of unicorn blood if he wanted to remain in an intact vessel.

It was ironic, the wards of Hogwarts were THE most powerful on any building in the British Isles. However, since their casting a thousand years ago, very little had changed. They were in essence, simple wards that had a hell of a lot of power behind them. Magical assault would be annoying but not impossible, but this unseen infiltration he had accomplished was easily overlooked. Unlike what many believed, Hogwarts was not some great fortress that was capable of resisting the assault of dark armies It was designed to counter the muggles of 1000AD with their at the time primitive seige weaponry and barbarian hordes. It was not sentient(well, after a point. It was still a thousand year old magical castle. It did have instincts, even if they were more along the lines of climate control and inexplicable chaos). It was a school, one that had a very haphazard interior because of how the first few generations that lived there created and expanded the rooms and then had to make ways to get to them. It had a lot of secrets, but the school itself was more a symbol than possible base of operations. A haven perhaps, but a fortress? Never. Though, it seemed that at times, the headmaster had deluded himself otherwise. Perhaps there was something the old argument of DUMBledore. Not that you could tell with the whole awesome duelling that is half for showing off...

Speaking of dumb, how was he supposed to get by these theatrical protections in a way that was both clumsy and (sad to admit) in the capabilities of his thrice damned vessel to execute, without using anything too powerful that his only means to grab the stone keeled over.

XXX

By the time a month had passed, the social hierarchy had settled down in the school. Everyone knew how everyone was treated, by sight if not by name. The Slytherins were the most obvious with this, pandering to young Draco Malfoy in quite the unsubtle manner. Only skilled or experienced eyes picked out the beginnings of the resentment that would surface later on, where the true king of the snake it would be revealed. And this was fed by the fact that Malfoy, with his family in such a high position, not only as socialites, but as the true driving force behind the Ministry, commanded obedience in more than his year. In a house of the ambitious, nothing rankled more than being under another.

But after that first month, Harry was dealt a profound blow in his self esteem. It was quite shocking to find that his much vaunted genjutsu were not the ultimate weapon he had envisioned and previously observed as being. For one thing, they refused to work completely on the half giant, Hagrid, or the part goblin Flitwick. For another thing, certain people like Dumbledore and McGonogall seemed to be able to sense the fact that there was something wrong in the presence of a genjutsu. Harry wondered if the only reason they had not passed it of as anything more than an odd feeling was because he had not subjected any of them to nightmare forming or reality masking genjutsu. No doubt they were somehow inherently able to determine that their perceptions were being tampered with, at least subconsciously. Thankfully, camouflage and invisibility genjutsu were still effective. Then again, they had never been tested against magical detection spells or wards., not active ones at any rate. And he doubted that magical sensing would detect any kind of clones as "alive".

What this meant was that now he had to retrain his skills to be primarily non chakra based. It was going to take a while, but now he had to restrain the urge to throw up a genjutsu as his preferred first response to future interlopers. It was then that he remembered that the "native" ninja seemed to be able to detect his usage of chakra. Harry clamped down the urge to be childish and either scream or pout. Was all his previous training just a waste? "Looks like I am headed for the forest sooner rather than later..." he mused.

XXX

Tetsuya silently paced in front of the outpost of Hakumei. Sure the forest was full of such nice and lovely creatures, like centaurs, acromantula, that insane werewolf couple, the rest of the set of average forest dwelling life forms he lacked sufficient interest in to warrant even the looking up of a name and what not. But it was still boring. The two "sentries" were out on patrol and he was getting bored. Ninja were such active humans that spending too much time actually motionless was quite impossible. Unless of course, you were an elder, like Hayate, or one of the diplomats, like Takeda. Those inhuman fellows were perfectly fine meditating motionless for hours on end. Tetsuya was neither elder nor diplomat. He was a poor genius of a ninja who had finally comprehended the fact that real missions are mostly boring. He was here for his weekly report, basically that he still had a stalker, but was unable to do a thing. Quite depressing for a so called prodigy of the generation. And then he saw the twitch. A bush that was purposely disturbed, to warn of company. The ninja had returned. Now Taka would finally get his report and he could go back to his useless post in the castle. He turned around. And was shocked.

"YOU!"

XXX

In Kyoto, magical capital of Japan, was also the home of Hakumei, the twilight guard of the magical empress, whose magical ancestor had been swiped out from the by then more "Rational" and less believing people somewhere in the 1700s. The current empress was considered the direct descendant of Amaterasu and was literally god. The fact that the magical royal family seemed to have immense and far from normal power and were near invincible sorcerers were not unhelpful to their image. In truth, the shadow emperors and empresses tended to go with magically strong spouses, eugenics that worked since the most powerful tended to be what the British tended to call Halfbloods. The somewhat strict society was flexible and benevolent enough that the few rebels were power hungry as opposed to righteous.

It was underneath this court of the gods, 12 levels below to be precise, that Hayate of the wind visited the room that was quite frankly known to exactly seven people in the living world, sole occupant included.

"Lady Chiyo, it is agreeable to see you"

Hayate was in his mid forties, a perfectly average man, one that was one of the most dangerous men on the planet. His speed, his strength, his skill was all legend. A god in his own right.

Opposite him sat a frail looking old woman, short and wrinkled, with pupil less eyes. The most gifted seer in Japan, Chiyo was also blind, two hundred years old and quadriplegic.

"Indeed young lord, your visits are far less than they once were. I rejoice in your success."

During the first few years at the top, Hayate had consulted frequently with the venerable lady, who unlike Trelawney, actually was rather rational and not prone to predicting the untimely demise of random people. She was the secret advisor, somebody whose life force would remain as long as she served the line of Amaterasu, a pesky little chinese ritual that also kept the immortal emperor, immortal, though, his was linked to his willingness to serve and better his people and lands.

In any case, once the ninja had settled into his position, he no longer had need to consult as frequently, and consequently just stopped visiting for the most inane of paperwork inquiries.

Hayate, being a ninja, and consequently a person not given to wasting time, did not let too long pass in nostalgic contemplation.

"I come before you seeking guidance. As you have advised, I have sent men to the west, where they met an individual of unknown power and loyalty, as you have foretold. However, I cannot see the path I must take. What must I do? Speak and it shall be as you command."

Sometimes formality was just plain irritating. He could not fathom how anyone could possibly tolerate the flowery language he was forced to use.

The old lady shuffled a bit and replied.

"It is difficult to say, young lord. There is no clear advice I can give, the future is clouded in this matter. Follow your heart, warrior. And take care lest your men be too hasty in word and blade. I foresee much chaos in the wake of this man. He can be a most useful ally or most troublesome foe. I can give nothing more to aid you, I fear this is as much your trial as his..."

Hayate rose and bowed, unseen as it was and left in deep thought. That was the most the seer had said and the least. She had never been this vague before either. There was nothing he could clearly use, and the interpretations were many, and he really did not want to sit down and analyse just what it all meant.

Was it too much to ask for a straight answer?

XXX

Meanwhile, Tetsuya the super ninja extraordinaire (not) was in the middle of the forbidden forest with a very unwelcome individual in front of him. It was an assumption that was quite good really. Unknown fellow who was a veritable reproduction of Uchiha Itachi, complete with straw hat, and Akatsuki robe.

"Yes, it is I, Skywalker "...said in a creepy monotone.

The figure wore most curious garb, which of course, was straw hat, black cloak with red coats, which was distinctly unfamiliar to the confused fellow. It really didn't look like anything a shinobi would wear. The insanity angle that Takeda talked about was looking more plausible by the minute. However, Tetsuya couldn't afford to flee either. The transmitter that was currently hidden was under no circumstances allowed to be discovered. Hayate would have his head...separated from the rest of him.

"Skywalker san, I cannot say it is a pleasure to meet you. May I know the purpose of our current...meeting?"

The Itachi clone looked impassive. Then he replied in the same creepy monotone.

"The castle lacks entertainment. It remains to be seen if you are more worthy of my time."

Tetsuya was now definitely sure the guy was insane. MPD anyone?

And then Mr creepy monotone proceeded to whip out a large scroll from somewhere and open it, with one hand. The complex diagram on the scroll was not increasing his confidence.

And then, the guy slams his hand onto the scroll and onto the ground. For the briefest of seconds, a cloud of smoke blocked his view. And then he was treated to the sight of Skywalker standing on top of a vicious looking arachnoid thing, similarly patterned to the cloak he wore.

Tetsuya was just beginning to pale, when as if Lord Murphy was feeling particularly partial to him, an assortment of black blades just slid out of the limbs, body and the things jaws, the latter of which promptly began to snap at him, viciously.

Skywalker tilted his head. Tesuya gulped.

"Entertain me, Tetsuya kun"

XXX

A/N: cliffhanger!

always wanted to say that hehe :P

how was the chapter? Honestly?

A bit more back story, an view of the mental gears of a few people, the reason for magical ninja in britain...

It was written in a rather modular fashion and I'm curious how it turned out. If you find any plot holes, please do point it out. I honestly forgot half my own story...yes its embarrassing, I know.

An unintended hiatus was not the best thing to happen to this story, but hopefully my time off has made this chapter all the more read worthy for it.

Before I sign off, one final request, to all my readers...

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!