Author's Note: Standard disclaimer applies. Chapter One Revised as of 29-10-2011.
Broomsticks and Shuriken
Written by Lady Red
The Chrysalis Draught
The third week of their fifth year for the Gryffindor house was not turning out to be an entirely pleasant one. Professor McGonagall remained unrelenting (despite all the protests from her fifth years) in the masses of homework she gave. A fight between Dean Thomas and Theodore Nott on Tuesday had cost the house thirty points and been duly noted by the remainder and the combined classes of History of Magic and Divination were nearly driving them to distraction. On top of that, Dolores Umbridge couldn't seem to get it through her incredibly dense, curly haired skull that the Gryffindors were less than amused with her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Perhaps the most woeful thing about the entire week however, was Professor Snape's double lesson of Potions that particular Friday afternoon of the third week of the school year.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had chosen a table as far back from the front as they could get and away from the dark, malicious eyes of their professor. It was evident the day before that Snape was in a less than pleasant mood when he'd docked Ron ten house points for having his shirt un-tucked. Hence, Harry deliberately tried to avoid trouble with his least favourite teacher by seating himself and his two friends at the back of the classroom, for all the good it would do.
For today's Potions class the three Gryffindors were trying to brew a particularly complicated draught that was supposed to 'relax and cleanse the soul' as Snape had disdainfully put it. Clearly he didn't think much of the potion either but its complicated nature was more than enough to convince the Potions professor to put his students through the anxiety of making it.
The Chrysalis draught reminded Harry of one of his Aunt's yoga DVDs she'd bought over the summer. Aunt Petunia had a small treasure trove when he'd gotten home and had built it up to a respectable size over the next few weeks of the school holidays along with a variety of patterned mats and awful, brightly coloured tights. Harry had had a hard time not erupting into laughter every time he saw his Aunt in them. The draught sounded exactly like the kind of thing his Aunt would consider a 'must have' for sake of appearing the part of a yoga enthusiast.
"Oh for heaven's sake Ron," sighed Hermione in exasperation. "That's not nearly enough rosemary for the Chrysalis draught."
Scowling, Ron picked up a new, prickly sprig and began chopping all over again.
"I don't see why we need so much of this stuff," he complained darkly. "It hasn't got any healing properties or anything. Mum always said it smelt nice so she uses it in her cooking. I mean seriously Hermione; I just don't see the sense in it."
"The smell's supposed to help Ron," sighed Hermione. "Don't you know anything?"
Harry hid a grimace. Don't get him wrong – he cared deeply for his two best mates but sometimes, well ... It wasn't uncommon to find himself caught up in Ron and Hermione's bickering but every so often Harry wished Ron could simply learn to let it go or Hermione didn't always have to insist that she was in the right.
"Ron, Hermione always knows what she's doing when it comes to potions," Harry pointed out just as Ron opened his mouth to fire a new shot.
"That's not the point," Ron insisted, instead turning to face Harry who watched with some amusement as Ron's hand began to wave about, as if it would make his position on the matter clearer somehow. He was entirely oblivious to the knife in his grip that might poke someone's eye out. "It's like trying to make medicine taste nice. Just because you change the taste doesn't mean it stops being medicine."
"So?" replied Harry not really understanding where Ron was heading at all.
"I give up!"
Dramatically, Ron threw his hands up into the air. Unfortunately he nearly hit poor Neville who was walking right past behind him with his arms loaded down with potion supplies. To avoid Ron's dangerously circling arm Neville ducked and tried to stumble out of the way at the same time. His hip crashed against their table and he dropped half his load all over the place. A good portion fell into the three Gryffindors' Chrysalis Draught, effectively ruining it and when Ron realised what he'd done and tried to help Neville, he sent their cauldron flying and unfortunately, all down the front of Harry's robes.
Harry jumped when the warm blue liquid splashed across his torso and plastered his robes to his body in a sticky mess. The others froze, horrified at what had just happen. Hermione had gone pale and Harry knew why. His temper since the incident at Grimmauld Place hadn't improved any; the incident with Seamus Finnegan the first week of class had been proof enough. Harry had tried to control himself since then but never the less; he felt the stirrings of hot anger in the pit of his stomach anyway.
"Oh look Ron! Just perfect!" Harry snapped furiously.
The red headed boy was still completely frozen, one arm holding onto Neville and the other out flung – the one that had knocked the potion all over Harry.
"Harry! I'm so sorry mate," squeaked Ron finally letting go of Neville. He looked around for something to wipe up the mess with but by that stage Snape had come gliding down to the back of the classroom to see what all the commotion was about.
"Potter, Wesley, Longbottom. There's a surprise," murmured Snape as his flat, dark eyes came to rest on the three students and the spilt potion.
"It was an accident sir," said Harry shortly, hoping to head Snape off.
Snape sneered, not at all deterred. "Hardly. Twenty points from Gryffindor for misconduct."
"Twenty?" protested Ron but hastily shut up when he caught Snape's eye.
"Potter, go clean yourself up," ordered Snape. "You three, try to salvage your potion if you can."
Snape smiled silkily and then walked away leaving the four Gryffindors feeling frustrated and sullen. The rest of the Gryffindor fifth years barely battered an eyelash. Losing another twenty points hardly seemed like much after such a long and particularly bad week. Of course, when it came to Harry Potter and Professor Snape, loosing points in Potions was a God given anyway.
"Bloody sod," muttered Ron. "Doesn't that prat have a decent bone in his entire body?"
"I doubt it Ron," retorted Hermione dryly. "Besides, this is all your fault."
"My fault?" asked Ron incredulously. "It was an accident like Harry said; could have happened to anyone."
His flippant reply didn't appease Hermione however. "Well you know what Snape's like. Some days I think you enjoy inviting trouble."
Harry blocked out his two friends as another epic argument began. He caught Neville's eye and the awkward boy shot him an apologetic look. Harry gave Neville a tight smile in return and left the dungeons, his mood blacker than ever.
He located the bathrooms in relatively short order (it was always a little bit of a challenge in the dungeons where the corridors were more like a labyrinth) but not without a little trouble.
Peeves, the poltergeist, was floating right above the entrance to the boys' bathroom. It looked like he turned all the taps on in the bathrooms again, knowing how much Filch hated to clean up the mess. There was already a substantial amount of water on the floor and it would get much worse before Filch would discover what Peeves had done. The moment his beady little eyes landed upon Harry however, they lit up with delighted glee. Peeves loved to pull pranks of all sorts but tormenting Hogwarts students was even better, especially students like Harry.
"Why if it isn't four-eyed Potter," he sniggered. "Decided you want to join those Ravenclaw fairies?" Peeves asked, pointing at Harry's blue coloured robes which had become stiff and clammy.
Harry favoured Peeves with a glare but otherwise chose to ignore the obnoxious being.
"Oh? Has poor little Potty been rejected by those prissy Ravenclaws?" heckled Peeves.
"Yes Peeves. Now bugger off and go bother Filch or something," snapped Harry.
The poltergeist only laughed rather than getting upset.
Cursing the spirit under his breath, Harry stomped into the watery puddles and made his way to the bathroom door. At that moment however, a strange dizziness rolled over him. Harry stumbled and flung out a hand, barely catching himself upon the stone wall of the corridor.
"What?" slurred Harry, trying not to tumble onto the wet floor.
Everything was spinning before his eyes and Peeves grating voice seemed to be growing dimmer. Harry didn't understand what was happening. Strangely his vision was starting to go blue and he felt alarmingly cold all of a sudden, like someone had thrown him into a lake in the middle of winter.
The potion! Harry realised suddenly. It had to be something to do with the potion. Neville had dropped a whole bunch of stuff into it and now it was doing something to Harry.
Harry thought he actually heard Peeves ask if there was something wrong but a moment later his body lost whatever strength it had and he collapsed onto the wet floor. In a matter of seconds the blueness completely swamped his vision and all of a sudden, he felt a tremendous shot of pain rip through his chest, like a wedge was being driven clean through a chunk of wood to split it in half.
All at once, Harry felt no more.
He awoke to complete and utter darkness and the sound of someone banging impatiently on a door somewhere.
Moaning softly, he rolled over and sat up. Gingerly he rested his hands on his stomach, which rolled rebelliously with the action and almost convinced Harry to thrown up. With a tremendous amount of effort, Harry swallowed down the urge.
The knocking continued persistently, demanding that Harry get up and open the door at once. He couldn't see a damn thing though and there wasn't even the faintest trace of a window to indicate whether it was day or night.
Something about the entire scenario felt incredibly off to Harry who was used to waking up in the hospital wing when these kinds of things happened. Unlike usual however, there were no Ron and Hermione anxiously waiting for him to wake up nor the familiar disinfectant smell the Hospital Wing possessed. It was also pitch black Harry reflected irritably but at least he'd woken up on a bed. That was definitely a positive.
Stumbling across the room in the darkness and stubbing his toe on something rather sharp, Harry paused for a moment to hiss before proceeding onwards. By the time he found the door and felt around for the doorknob he was visibly sweating and sure he was as pale as a ghost.
He swung it open to reveal a grey haired man who looked remarkably young for someone with a hair colour like that. He was dressed in a grey shirt and pants and there was a dark pair of sandals on his feet. He also looked rather displeased with his features set in a deep scowl and narrow slate grey eyes staring flatly at Harry from behind wired rimmed glasses.
He opened his mouth to say something but paused, noticing Harry's dishevelled attire and pinched, pale face.
"Well that explains it," he said to Harry. "You're sick. I'll tell Orochimaru."
"Orochimaru?" repeated Harry dumbly.
"Of course Orochimaru," replied the man, speaking slowly, as if Harry were a child. "He wanted to know why you didn't show up for training seeing as you were so insistent upon it yesterday. You can sleep and I'll come back later and give you something but next time don't make me pound on your door for ten minutes."
He turned and stalked away leaving a very confused Harry standing in his doorway. After a moment or two Harry shrugged the strange conversation off and opened the door wider. He had no idea what had just happened or who that man was.
Orochimaru? Who called themselves that? Sounded like some sort of name Voldermort might like.
The room he'd awoken in opened out into a gloomy corridor whose end was so far away in either direction that it was shrouded in darkness. The grey haired man had already vanished. Not sure whether to be curious or worried, Harry stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind him. He couldn't recall ever seeing any part of Hogwarts that looked like this.
He frowned at the walls which were made of an unusual, reddish-brown stone unlike the grey stone used in Hogwarts. Strange patterns had been carved into the stone and every so often, there was a lit torch in a stone bracket placed on the wall to light the way. The fire was warm but the passageway felt cold and damp; no better than Snape's dungeons. If this really was Hogwarts, he'd never seen this part of it before.
Deciding finding a teacher was his priority for now, Harry turned to his right and chose to proceed in that direction. He could have gone left he supposed but the grey-haired man had vanished in that direction and something about him disturbed Harry and set his teeth on edge. The way he spoke and the expression upon his face reminded Harry rather uncomfortably of the way Lucius Malfoy was so very fond of looking at him.
The stone was cold beneath his bare feet as Harry walked. Unfortunately he soon discovered that getting out was going to be harder than it looked. The corridors were all the same and there was nobody about to point him in the right direction, not even one of the many talking portraits always present upon Hogwarts walls. Occasionally he thought he could hear the dull murmur of noise in the distance but he never came across anything.
After ten minutes of wandering lost through the maze of endless corridors, Harry felt a gentle breeze stir against his face. He turned in the direction it had come from and picked up the pace. A few twists and turns later and at long last a chink of light appeared in the distance.
In another minute Harry was finally outside in the sunshine. The sun's warm rays were welcome but Harry halted in bewilderment at the sight before him. He might not know the castle completely but he was certain he knew every inch of the Hogwarts grounds and what he could see looked nothing like he'd ever seen before. The trees and plants looked normal enough but they weren't anything like the British shrubs and trees he knew. The foliage looked dryer and reedier somehow. It still appeared to be late morning but the temperature felt hotter, almost humid. A well-worn footpath led away from the entrance he'd emerged from that looked more like a cave than anything else. Uneasy, Harry followed the footpath for a few minutes, hoping to see something or someone that he recognised.
He did find someone eventually or rather, they found him. The path had continued on to a place where it had been cut into the side of a small hill, dropping away sharply ten or so metres to the bottom on his left and rising roughly the same distance above him on the right. Harry didn't realise he'd finally found someone until he came around the corner and there they were.
Harry halted in surprise. The two men seemed just as surprised to see him but they recovered much quicker than he.
"Uchiha-san," said the taller of the two men. He was wearing the same strange pair of sandals on his feet like the grey haired man had that Harry had met before and there was a deep scar down one side of his face but other than that, he appeared to be perfectly ordinary – muggle ordinary that is. The other man was shorter and stockier with a full bristling beard and a round, squat helmet of a make Harry didn't recognise crammed down over his ears.
"Glad to see you're up and about again," continued the man.
"Er, yeah? Glad to be up?" replied Harry, confused. Uchiha-san? The name (if that's what it was) meant nothing to him. Could they perhaps have mistaken him for someone else? Nearly every person Harry had ever met knew him by sight and if not that, then by description alone.
Harry's eyes drifted sideways to the shorter man who was holding something within his grasp. He blinked at the object, not really understanding what he was seeing for a second. The answer struck him like lightening when he finally did realise what the man was holding. It was a small, wicked looking knife of some kind. In his other hand he was holding a diminutive whetstone which he'd apparently been sharpening the knife with.
Wary, Harry took half a step back, suspicious eyes now pinned upon the two. He didn't immediately think they were Death Eaters but that was the first thought that leapt into his mind regardless. He knew wizards didn't like to carry knives but the fact remained that he'd awoken in a strange place he didn't recognise and hadn't met a single person he knew since he'd come to.
"Who are you?" asked Harry warily.
The two men stared at Harry and then the taller laughed Harry's question off.
"Well you wouldn't know us by sight Uchiha-san but we've seen you around before," said the man. "You're as suspicious as the rumours say. No, Kotaru-san and I here are the new sentries assigned by Orochimaru to this gate post. I am Akira, formally from the Land of Stone."
The man pointed to his forehead where there was a metal plate attached to a piece of cloth tied in place. A deep grove had been scratched through the symbol etched into the gleaming steel.
Harry said nothing, no less suspicious than he had been before. The man hadn't told him anything that meant anything in particular to him. Never the less, Harry didn't allow his guard to drop. The situation was just too odd. There was definitely something not quite right.
"Say, didn't the previous gate keep say Uchiha-san left some travel supplies with us?" spoke up the man's stockier companion. His voice was gruff and he didn't seem nearly as interested in Harry as Akira seemed to be.
"You know, I think you're right Kotaru," replied Akira thoughtfully. "I suppose that's why you came down here, without any shoes no less." Akira shot a bemused smile at Harry's naked feet but the humour was lost on him. Harry couldn't seem to muster any effort to feel embarrassed; at least not when a little voice in the back of his head was going mental like Trelawney and her cynical predictions on a bad day.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Akira shook off the awkward silence that followed at Harry's lack of response and turned aside. Without so much as a flinch, Akira stepped forward and vanished through the stone hillside, just like walking through the brick wall at Kingscross Station to get to Platform 9 ¾ to catch the Hogwarts Express.
Rather easily, Harry pushed aside his surprise with nothing more than a blink to show it and cautiously followed Akira, one eye carefully watching Kotaru in his peripheral vision. The man didn't seem to be paying any attention at all and was already involved once again in the sharpening of his knife by the time Harry stepped through and quickly pulled himself up short, having nearly run into Akira's back. He was halted just inside the doorway. Harry was surprised; it was very cramped beyond the illusion with barely enough room for three men to stand comfortably. The lighting was dim and Harry could just make out shelves loaded down with boxes and an assortment of objects which looked a lot like more knives, similar the one Kotaru had been sharpening; backpacks and water canteens amongst other things. A black, narrow passageway gaped open just to the other side of Akira which Harry eyed for a moment before turning his attention back to the older man.
Akira was rummaging through one of the boxes, looking for 'Uchiha-san's' misplaced travel supplies. Gradually Harry became aware of the need to answer the call of nature. Akira didn't appear to have found what he was looking for yet.
"Oi, do you mind if I use your loo?" asked Harry.
"Sure, down there," replied Akira, indicating the dark passageway distractedly.
Harry left without another word and found the bathroom in short order. Once he was done, he quickly washed his hands and then cupped them beneath the running tap. He splashed the water across his face and sighed deeply, finally beginning to feel a little cooler. It really had been hot out and inside this little cave, it was even hotter. He shut off the tap and glanced about for a towel but there wasn't one so he yanked the front of his shirt up to wipe off the excess moisture.
He got the shock of his life when he lowered it and saw another person standing right in front of him, less than a foot from his face. He leapt back on instinct, a strangled curse escaping him.
And the person was gone.
Confused, Harry straightened up. Had the person been nothing more than a figment of his imagination?
Unfortunately, Harry noticed the mirror above the sink and an awful suspicion began to grow within the back of his mind. Sure enough, the boy reappeared when Harry stepped back in front of the mirror. It was him he realised. He was the boy he thought he'd seen.
The boy's skin was paler than Harry's and he was a good couple of inches taller. His eyes were the blackest shade of night Harry had ever seen – impossible to tell where the pupil ended and the colour of the eye began. Even his hair was different: if possible it was even messier in the back then Harry's own and longer in the front. It was as black as the strange eyes peering out of his face. A smattering of faded, almost impossible to see nicks and scars littered his hands and arms. There were even several upon his face. The clothes themselves were nondescript; a pair of black pants and a white jacket that reached to mid-thigh and was secured with a matching strip of cloth tied around his waist and knotted just to one side of his belly button.
The transformation was disturbing to say the least but Harry put that down to the potion. Having once transfigured himself and Ron to look like Malfoy's goons, he wasn't quite that worried about it. Madam Pomfrey would be able to set him right soon enough. The far more disturbing factor was where exactly was he? He was becoming sure this wasn't Hogwarts and if it wasn't then was he in the hands of the Death Eaters? Was this all some sort of elaborate setup for Voldemort's amusement?
A knock interrupted Harry's mental clamouring enough to make him jerk around, his eyes shooting to the door.
"Um, Uchiha-san? I found your supplies. Were you leaving on another mission again?" asked Akira through the wooden door.
Couldthisbeachance?wondered Harry. Maybe Voldemort had kidnapped him while he was unconscious but before the transformation had taken effect. Maybe Uchiha was one of the Death Eaters and his Potions accident had inadvertently altered his appearance enough to make him look similar to this Uchiha person. Voldemort and his cronies probably didn't even realise he didn't look like he usually did. But that didn't explain the grey haired man or the fact that he'd been left alone in an unlocked room. Harry decided to worry about it later and to take the chance to escape while he could.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Harry opened the door.
"Here you are Uchiha-san," said Akira, holding out a backpack to Harry. He took it cautiously, trying to hide his surprise when he realised how heavy it was. Akira then handed him what looked like a metal bar at first until he realised it was a sword without a guard. It was almost impossible to tell where the hilt started and the sheath began. It wasn't the first sword Harry had ever held – that had of course been Gryffindor's sword in his second year in the Chamber of Secrets. He wondered though, what a Death Eater would want with a sword.
The last item Harry received from Akira was a strange set of shoes like the ones he and the grey haired man were wearing. They looked like a pair of boots but the toe of each boot was missing as was the heel. Deciding the design was unimportant however, Harry hastily redirected his attention to the older man, ready for any sign that he was about to be discovered as an imposter.
"There you go," said Akira. "I suppose you can't talk about the mission. That's alright though. Just make sure you bring us back a souvenir Uchiha-san."
Akira laughed to himself and clapped Harry on the shoulder before he could react. He stumbled a little, unable to balance as easily with his arms full. Akira didn't seem to have noticed through as he practically pushed Harry back out into the warm sunlight. The cool breeze was highly welcome but Harry didn't waste time enjoying it. Quickly he pulled his backpack on, thrust the sword through his cloth belt and yanked his shoes on.
"Eager to be off is he?" Harry heard Kotaru ask Akira.
"Ah," agreed Akira as Harry straightened, his feet now firmly protected from the dirt road.
"Well bring us back a souvenir then Uchiha-san," said Kotaru.
"We'll see," mumbled Harry, just wanting to leave as quickly as possible.
The two men laughed at his words. "A man of few words indeed, is a man of the Uchiha," proclaimed Akira.
His gave the two a short, sharp nod and then turned, struggling to resist the urge to break into a run as he walked away. "Good luck!" Kotaru called after him. Whatever else they might have said was lost as Harry rounded a corner and left the two likely Death Eaters behind him.
When Sasuke awoke at first he thought he was sick. His stomach felt awful and his head pounded in time with each corresponding beat of his heart. Once he assessed that he then realised that something else wasn't quite right besides the feeling that he was coming down with something or else had been on the wrong end of a nasty jutsu of some kind.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the completely unfamiliar ceiling. Gingerly sitting up and looking around at everything else, he wasn't surprised to see that the rest of the room was unfamiliar as well. It looked like a hospital ward of some kind. There were a dozen or so beds in the room and the tall glass windows had been flung wide open to let in the cool morning breeze.
Slipping out of his bed and onto the cold floor, Sasuke padded across to them and looked out at the scene beyond. What he saw was entirely different from what he'd hoped to see.
A completely foreign world extended in all directions before him. Steep hillsides covered in lush vegetation reared up into the sky. Nestled between them rested a dark lake whose shores lapped at the edge of the grassy grounds. It appeared he was in some sort of enormous stone building and at least a few stories up. Far below he could see maybe half a dozen groups of people wandering across the grass.
"What?" muttered Sasuke, unable to find words to describe the situation he'd awoken to.
As far as he recalled, he'd gone to bed like usual last night. Waking up as he had though, made absolutely no sense.
It was also at that point in time that Sasuke realised something else was dreadfully out of place. For some reason he just didn't feel quite right. Something had changed and with a quick glance around the room, he spotted a door leading into what looked like a bathroom.
Sasuke quickly crossed the ward and entered the bathroom. Much to his disbelief, his misgivings proved to be entirely correct.
A green-eyed boy his own age looked back. The boy's black hair was shorter than his and he also realised everything was a little blurry. The boy probably wore glasses then. He was a few inches shorter than Sasuke, which had been what had tipped him off. The boy was also a bit skinnier than he was and had a strange, livid red scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt but mostly hidden by his messy bangs. He was wearing a grey woolly jumper with a white shirt underneath and grey slacks. Something dried and vaguely blue was splattered across the front of his chest and when he dazedly wandered back to his bed he found a black robe slung over the end also covered in a substantial amount of the dried blue substance.
He looked at the bedside table and ignoring the polished stick, he picked up the boy's glasses beside it and put them on. He was relieved to see his vision clear instantly.
However, his small relief at the restoration of his sight did little to calm his flurry of thoughts. Currently he seemed to be alone but it didn't sound like it was going to last for long. He heard a door bang open in the next room and the sounds of three people coming in. One sounded like a young boy and the other a girl. The third was much older.
"This all your fault Ron!" the girl was saying.
"Myfault?" the boy cried back. "How is this my fault?"
"Because you're the one that knocked the potion all over Harry and now he's unconscious in the Hospital Wing – again!"
"Really Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley! Can't you be quiet? There are sick people in here and I'll not have you making a racket," said an older woman's voice crossly.
Sasuke cursed softly under his breath. There was no way he wanted to talk to whoever those three people were. The entire situation had 'Orochimaru's frustrating new training technique' written all over it.
Reaching deep within himself for his chakra, he attempted to cast a simple genjutsu only to discover to his shock that the familiar energy he'd learnt to recognise as a young boy was nowhere to be found. No matter how deeply he searched within himself, it refused to answer his summons.
He could hear the three people approaching the entrance to the ward. The boy and the girl were still arguing but more quietly now and Sasuke was beginning to feel the first traces of panic he'd felt in years. Completely out of his depth with no idea as to what the Sannin had done, Sasuke realised he didn't even know how he should react. Without his chakra, he would be forced to rely on taijutsu for his defence – Orochimaru had probably deliberately set it up that way. The Sannin's methods of training after all, had always been a little unorthodox. What he needed to do he decided, was to gather information to enlighten of his situation and for that, he was going to need a place to conceal himself.
He glanced around the room looking for somewhere to hide. Underneath the bed was out of the question – a rookie mistake if ever there was one and if he didn't have any chakra there was no way he could take a quick trip out the window.
Then Sasuke suddenly remembered the cupboard in the bathroom. It was a gamble he thought as the door handle began to turn but it was all he had left. Sprinting across the room, he threw himself through the doorway without a moment to spare. A confused question from the girl as to Harry's whereabouts confirmed that Sasuke hadn't been seen. He wasted no more time in opening the door to the cupboard and worming his way back past the medical supplies and piles of linen to crouch, concealed in the back of the cupboard.
Safe within the gloom, Sasuke cursed Orochimaru and darkly wondered why this sort of thing always happened to him.
Author'sNote:Well there you go – chapter all revised. It's been bugging me ever since I first wrote it what feels like a lifetime ago now. I have been trying to get Harry and Sasuke to act a little truer to their respective characters. Then again, it's not like I chose a simple story to write. Naruto is the hardest to write for me but keeping him simple 95% of the time and D & M the other 5% is my method of writing for him.
So hopefully typos have been corrected for this chapter and circumstances are somewhat more believable. I thought Harry's reasons for leaving Oto were pretty week in terms of plot so hopefully this is a little better.
Thanks to everyone who has followed the story thus far. I knew when I started this it would take me a long time to finish it but I'm hoping that that will certainly be the case one day. Many of you have said I have inspired them to enjoy the Harry Potter/Naruto crossover again or to try it for the first time and I wanted to thank you guys for that. My aim has always been to write one that is true to both stories but also takes the reader on an adventure unlike previous crossovers. (The whole guarding thing is so old. It's been done guys – time for some new material).
Anyway, thanks to everyone's patience and please enjoy the new chapter which will be posted tomorrow.