Disclaimer: Unsurprisingly, I own nothing. Naruto and Harry Potter belong to their respective creators.

Note: This is the follow-up to Dark Thoughts and Darker Deeds. While this will (in a while) make sense on its own, it would help if you read that story first. This fic is much more HP-centric than my last one, though the Naruto lot will appear later.

Always think geometrically: simple lines leading to complicated solutions.

His grandmother had told him that. His father's favourite saying, cultivated from years of training and operations. The best advice he could have at this stage.

Hidden, he listened to the guards footsteps. As soon as they were level, he swept his leg out. The guard fell heavily. Instantly, he was over him. The guard slumped down, unconscious. He picked up the body and dragged it into a bathroom. He pulled up the robes and sat him on a cubicle, then stepped out and locked the door from the outside. The guard wouldn't be missed for an hour. It was more than enough.

Slipping out, he stalked through the corridor. His gaze was unfocused, seeing every detail simultaneously. The merest flicker made him roll forward into a crouch, waiting. Nothing. He waited still. Finally it came, a black slug like object, worming its way along the corridor. A sweeper. Fighting to stay calm, he considered the options. The sweeper was harmless in itself, but anything it observed was being monitored closely by the security team. He edged away from it. It had a field of about ten yards in every direction. He backed away a little more. It was responsive to sound and heat, and could detect them from up to fifty yards. Heat…

He scaled the wall and wedged himself at the top of the corridor, back pressed up to the ceiling. Extracting a match, he grabbed a newspaper from his pack. He lit the lot. Dropping down, he hurled it as far as he could down the corridor. The sweeper picked it up and immediately followed.

He slowly moved back, waiting for the moment. The sweeper investigated the fire. Now… The newspaper exploded. The sweeper was incinerated.

He ran through the corridor, kicked the door open and sprinted up the stairs. The response team would be heading for the incident scene now. Already the monitors would all be switched to the level. The perfect time to become invisible.

He found a grille. Lifting it, he crawled into the shaft. He kept track of the turns, checking against the layout he had memorized. At last he found his destination. He looked through the grille. The target was there. He opened the grille, and dropped soundlessly into the room, behind the target. Before they sensed the change in the air, his arm snaked around them. When it was done, he stood behind the door. Then he screamed.

Two guards burst in. Their confusion lasted seconds, but it was enough. They dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Picking up a wand, he activated the alarm system. Sirens blared. Tapping his throat, he cast a quick charm, then spoke. "Intruder on the seventh floor! Heading to the back stairs. Man down, repeat, Man down!". Snapping the wand, he slipped out and into an adjacent cell. Now to wait…

He could hear the commotion. Running feet, voices, shouted spells. He waited. Finally, when he judged the moment was ripe, he carefully opened the door and moved in the opposite direction to the entrance. He found an emergency stairwell. He ran up to the top. Standard procedure meant that a search would start from the exits, then go up to the building. He arrived at the roof. He saw it. A broomstick, left by the third chimney. He ran towards it. It leapt into his hand.

The world changed…

"Impressive. No, more than that. Excellent."

He awoke in a small grey room, sparsely furnished with two chairs and a desk. Facing him was a slim woman with long brown hair and bright, amused eyes. He knew her.

"So do I pass?"

The woman smiled. "I think so. That was the best score we've had on Selection since the Captain joined the program."

The Captain. He was almost as good as the Captain. His heart leapt. Everyone knew about the Captain. The man's real name was unknown, though there were strong suspicions. More than suspicions. Everyone was certain he was the one and only Boy-Who-Lived. He was a legend, his name a by-word for daring and cunning. In the two years since the war had began, he had become a hero to the wizarding world.

"What about you? Did I beat you?"

The woman frowned. She stared at him, all humor faded from her eyes. "No. Apparently, in the esteemed judgment of my superiors, I am unsuited to field work. Nothing I can do but work here."

He was surprised. Not just at her admission, but at her attitude. She had changed a lot. He desperately thought of something to say to restore her mood. "Shame. It would have been nice to know that I had beaten you in an exam once in my life."

She laughed. "You've changed, Neville. You really have. I never expected to see you in Selection."

Neville laughed with her. "I know. But I was in the DA too. I was there when we went after the prophecy."

She smiled wistfully. Looking at her watch, she gasped. "We're late. I have to take you to meet the Captain."

He was stunned. "I'm meeting the Captain? Now?"

She nodded. "He specifically wanted to meet you. Insisted on it. He wants to be there when I brief you."

Despite his surprise, he was still aware enough to notice that she got very tense whenever she mentioned the Captain, as if she was speaking about someone she disliked intensely. It didn't make sense. Neville was sure he knew who the Captain was.

How could Hermione Granger dislike him?

She led him through the corridor. She still seemed tense. His attempts at conversation were refused. They arrived at a door. Before they entered, she stopped him, and pulled him away.

"I'm not going to have a chance afterwards, so I thought I should ask now. After the briefing, would you like to come and meet some of the gang? A lot of them have been looking forward to meeting you."

She passed him a piece of paper. "Ginny and I live here. Come over at about seven. Everyone would be really pleased to see you."

He smiled. "Of course, Hermione. I'd be honored."

She smiled, but still seemed uncomfortable. He was about to ask her why when she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the room.

"Neville Longbottom, sir. He passed selection with a score of ninety-four point two."

The man inside smiled. "Not bad, Neville. Only five points below me. I'm impressed."

Neville was too shocked to speak. Contrary to his expectations, contrary to every rumor, contrary to the hopes of every citizen of the wizarding world, the man at the desk was not Harry Potter.

He was Ron Weasley.

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