Warnings: Violence, language, SPOILERS FOR NARUTO AND HARRY POTTER, angst in the beginning, references to depression, implied suicidal thoughts, sorry not sorry, children being the actual worst, Shikamaru deserving none of this for 9k words straight, Lockhart's idiocy and other things that can be seen from space, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harm towards animals - from animals, warnings are individual per chapter, might change next chapter or might not. No slash or yaoi, yuri, Shounen Ai, or Shōjo Ai. Incest remains off the table.

Chapter Summary: Children can't keep secrets for their lives, Shikamaru has a Headache dammit, and someone is targeting animals; this is Not Okay.

A Shadow in Wizard's Robes: Book 2: Chapter 4: Wilhelm Scream

"What we instill in our children will be the foundation upon which they build their future." - Steve Maraboli

Age 3: Nine years before Hogwarts

For a long time, Shikamaru wished he could have sat in a fugue state. He wished he could have succumbed to mental shock and been listless and on the edge of catatonia. It would have hurt less.

Instead, he made himself get out of bed every morning. He would get up, troop downstairs with a dozen other orphans, and they would eat a bland meal. Sometimes, it was toast. Sometimes, it was oatmeal. Sometimes, it was mashed potatoes and gravy from the previous night's dinner. There was never any rice. There were never any beans.

(Shikamaru grew to actively dislike plain wheat bread where before, it had been something of a foreign treat.)

Then, after breakfast, he was scrubbed almost raw in a rusting copper bathtub and planted in a play room with three other snotty, wailing children his age and told to make nice. Shikamaru did not, in fact, make nice. Even as a child in his own world, he'd never particularly liked other children, finding them dumb, uninteresting, and pushy. Now, as a- a- he didn't know what he was, but he was not a child again - as this, as someone used to adults and intelligent conversation, it was like torture. And he, in his young, emotionally untrained body, for lack of a better word, lashed out. He was rude, blunt, and barely able to keep a grip on his burning anger. And the other kids could tell. It only took a few days for them to leave him alone, and he was fine with that.

While it left him in relative peace and quiet, it also had the unfortunate side effect of giving him space to think. To remember.

Processing was a slow, painful, thing. He didn't remember much of his first two years here, which he considered to be an enormous blessing, but he remembered the before, when he'd been floating and had been given a mission. A uselessly vague mission.

Shikamaru, in response to the growing anger at his helplessness, could not shut down, so he instead started working himself into exhaustion. He had difficulty sleeping anyway, and none of the children or adults liked him, so he kept to himself. He started katas and physical conditioning. He read basic books to help him grasp a language that still slipped out of his reach at times because he somehow knew it but also kept confusing it with his native language. And through it all, his anger didn't go away.

Shikamaru was not actually a child. He knew that many things that seemed impossible actually weren't - see the entire war against a Moon Goddess of all things. He also knew that sometimes life dealt out shitty hands, and the best way to deal with it was to roll with the punches or think of a way out. Unfortunately, he was physically three years old, and that meant something.

It meant he was constantly overseen, he was micromanaged in a way that was grating at best and terrible for his mental health at worst, and he wasn't able to do anything for himself. He probably wouldn't be able to for at least ten years yet, and it pissed him off.

Useless.

He was useless.

Shit.

Life wasn't fair, and he knew that, but there was a difference between knowing life wasn't fair and getting plucked from his home and family and getting stuck in a child's body in what he could only guess was a different world. Maybe he was in a fever dream. That'd be nice. But he'd been in those before, and it never felt as concrete as he felt right now. As much as that damn voice had irritated him, and they'd definitely made his shitlist because they were the ones who put him here in the first place, he wished they'd stuck around so he could clarify a few things.

According to one of the adults whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember, he'd been dropped off around two years ago on their front doorstep, asleep, tucked into a blanket, with a letter attached. The letter had only read that he had been misplaced from home and the family wasn't in the picture anymore. It had also read that there was a very good chance that he had magic - a thing, here, apparently, which was something for him to consider later - and he was already in Hogwarts' records, and would be attending when he turned eleven. Hogwarts was the school for magic-users - witches and wizards.

That letter had damned his existence in this miserable building. The caretakers of the orphanage were resentful old cows who hated witches and wizards and the Ministry of Magic because all three had rejected those born to magic families who couldn't actually use magic. Maybe Shikamaru would have sympathized with the discrimination if they didn't take it out on him. From day one, they'd disdained him and vented every bit of frustrated bitterness on him.

If he had been a normal child, he would have crumbled into himself and probably would have chosen a life of either crime, alcohol, or martyrdom. He was not blind to the similarities between Naruto's childhood and his current life. Fortunately, he had over thirty years of life under his belt, so he just brushed them off and didn't bother to stay near them longer than absolutely necessary. They made life significantly harder, but between his anger at the disembodied voice and his attempts to keep his grief from overwhelming him, they were really just a nuisance.

At the very least, they'd given him everything that he'd come in with. It boiled down to the blanket - he'd given that to a younger kid who needed it more - earrings that greatly resembled his old earrings from his first childhood, and strange runes on his arms that looked like some kind of strange fuuinjutsu, seemingly made of blood or some other extremely dark red liquid, which made half of the orphanage adults look at him like a demon incarnate.

He'd reached for his chakra instinctively as soon as he gained some semblance of his former maturity - greatly relieved to find it there, and in greater quantity than he'd expected - and the seals had lit up. Definitely some kind of fuuinjutsu, though he'd never be able to decipher what it meant.

There had been a puff of smoke, and then. Then, a pile of weapons had erupted from the seals, landing in a neat stack on the ground. It was a veritable treasure trove. From a tanto - not his, but close enough and certainly serviceable - to senbon wraps and kunai and shuriken pouches, to even longer hunting knives and ninja wire. For the first time since he'd arrived, he'd felt...safe. Everything was still terrible, but at least he could stab anyone who tried to come after him physically.

He'd tucked away most of the weapons until he was old enough to carry them on his person, seeing as the seals had disappeared as soon as he'd activated them, but he still kept a senbon tucked behind his ear, hidden behind his hair, and he wore a small amount of ninja wire around his wrist as an innocuous form of self-defense. It wasn't much, but it was enough that he didn't feel like he was going to vibrate out of his skin from defenselessness. It didn't solve any of his current problems, but having the tools on hand made him...steadier. He was more determined to slog through instead of stepping off a convenient roof.

"Boy!"

Shikamaru made a face. Maybe he'd run away and find a nice circus to join. They'd probably like his ninjutsu and magic whenever he learned to use it.

"Get down here, boy!"

Shikamaru sighed heavily, too heavily for a child he thought wryly, and stood up. Time to go face the harpies. At least the tree was growing up in the backyard. As soon as it was tall enough, he'd be climbing it and staying there for hours to get away from the mess of angry adults and loud children.

Just a couple years. Just a couple years until he could reasonably function by himself and make them leave him alone. He'd survive a couple years.

...

Present:

Lessons were going well. September was almost gone, and by now, Shikamaru had what he thought would be the permanent members of the Defense sessions for the rest of the year. After the maze exercise the first week, only two people hadn't come back, and he'd just made sure they wouldn't go gossiping about it to friends, family, or, Sage forbid, a professor. On the other hand, there were a few new people after their friends brought them, so he was looking at nearly twenty people who were now determined to make the most of the subject this year.

At the beginning of each two-hour session, which he'd scheduled for twice a week at popular demand, he typically warmed them up with a small, half-hour physical exercise - ranging from target practice games to just plain cardio - and then they'd move on to the real purpose of that week. They'd stuck with the Freezing Charm for a couple of weeks since a few people complained that they hadn't gotten much practice, either because they kept getting frozen, or simply because they hadn't run into as many opponents in the maze, and then they'd moved onto the Leg-Locker Curse.

Shikamaru consulted with the older students in the class - Percy, Cedric, and two Slytherin upperclassmen - about the curriculum for the year. All of them agreed on dueling being a very practical and important part of Defense.

"We didn't really learn how," Cedric said, looking to the others. "I mean, Quirrell knew a lot, but he didn't like to do demonstrations."

"I used to think it was because he was too afraid of his own wand," said Gemma Farley, the newest Slytherin Prefect. "After what happened, though, it might've been purposeful."

"It is a skill that is quite honestly better learned at a young age and then perfected over time through practice and proper oversight," said Percy. He frowned. "I cannot fathom why Professor Lockhart was allowed to teach here. Headmaster Dumbledore must know that his lessons are not particularly...useful."

Farley rolled her eyes. "They only took him on because no one else wanted to sign up. Look what happened to Quirrell. Yeah, it was his fault, but he still died. And I remember the Defense professor who was here in my first year disappeared mysteriously. They still haven't found him."

"Cursed position, huh?" Cedric said, half joking. "Watch out, Nara."

"I'll keep an eye out," said Shikamaru wryly. It wasn't likely some curse would kill him before he fulfilled that stupid prophecy anyway. "Are you guys okay with keeping it basic for now?"

The older years exchanged glances.

"Not much we can do," said Adrian Pucey, a rather quiet and amiable Slytherin fourth-year. "No one else is stepping up. At least this way we'll get in some practice."

"We won't just be learning spells," assured Shikamaru. "That'd get boring and repetitive. Getting them to think and do their own research would be ideal. We can't help everyone with every part of Defense that they need to know; they'll have to help each other too."

Farley looked fairly skeptical at the thought of inter-house cooperation, but Percy was nodding along.

"I'm glad," he said seriously. "If we continue to have inept professors in a core subject, it will be hard for students who seek futures with professions such as Aurors or Curse-Breakers. Teaching them to help themselves will stretch beyond Defense and into other areas of their lives-"

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the person, Percy's speech was interrupted by the arrival of more students. Farley rolled her eyes and drifted off to threaten some second-years who were trying to get the Room to do their bidding. Shikamaru, remembering Naruto and Konohamaru, had preemptively taken away authority over the Room except for his while he was in it. He waited until everyone had gathered around and then waved a hand.

"Alright, listen up."

The chatter died immediately, which Shikamaru found to be extremely satisfying. He hadn't meant to condition them, but he wasn't complaining about the results.

"We're doing something new today." His statement was met with a number of groans, which made him smirk a little; they'd learned that new meant exhausting, mentally and/or physically.

"Relax, it's not going to be too hard." He pulled out Voyages with Vampires. He tossed the book to the closest person - Susan Bones. "Start reading."

She raised an eyebrow but opened the book. As soon as she started reading, in front of the crowd, a projection appeared with the likeness of Lockhart. She stopped at the surprised murmurs, and the image froze.

"We're going to be reading through the book over the next few sessions. Lockhart isn't good for much, but his story-telling is decent, and the situations he writes about are actually fairly realistic sans the dramatic embellishment." Shikamaru pulled up a chair that hadn't existed two seconds ago and gestured for everyone to do the same. They all sat in rows.

"We'll be dissecting his movements. What he did right, what he could have done better, and what he should have done instead."

"Can I ask...why?" said Susan, still holding the book.

Shikamaru nodded. "It gives us an idea of a more realistic scenario against Dark creatures without actually putting us in danger. With the Room, we can see the situation in real time. We'll have everyone read, and I'll pause after every chapter to talk about his actions. The sooner we start learning how to approach dangerous situations, the better. This helps everyone, and," here he grinned a little, "we get to blast Lockhart. It's therapeutic."

There was a ripple of laughter among the students. By now, all of them were thoroughly sick of Lockhart's "lessons".

"Alright. Bones, read until the end of the page and then pass it on. All of you quiet ones better speak up, or I'll make you stand on a box in front of the crowd."

The quiet ones looked suitably terrified by the threat. Shikamaru spied a few eager expressions and leaned back to enjoy the show. He grinned a bit as the normally very quiet Tracy Davis read aloud in a shaky, quavering voice that could nonetheless be heard by the entire group. Her voice got steadier with each sentence, and by the time she was set to read again, her head was high and her face had color.

They grew up so fast.

…

Hermione, Harry and Ron protested being dragged out on a Saturday for an hour of exercise. Harry, at least, was getting some exercise due to Quidditch, though there wasn't much cardio involved. Hermione, however, was well on her way to a Vitamin D deficiency, and Ron might've had excellent metabolism, but that wouldn't save him from a lifetime of heart attacks and strokes forty years down the line. Shikamaru endured their grumbling and claims of exercise being unnecessary for ten whole minutes before he pulled Neville in too and had them all do an endurance test.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione was dead last. Ron came next, and then Harry. Neville, who'd been working with Shikamaru for three months and change now, beat them all by a landslide, which made the Idiot Trio gape in surprise.

"Good job, Neville," said Shikamaru, handing the boy a flask of pumpkin juice. "Glad you're keeping up." Neville grinned at the other threes' disgruntled expressions.

"Point made," said Ron, sticking his chin out grumpily. "What'd you want us to do?"

Shikamaru grinned, and the three took a step back. Neville winced in sympathy. "We'll start with-"

Exactly fifty-five minutes later, Hermione flopped down on the ground. Ron followed, a bit more gracefully, and Harry sat down. Shikamaru peered down at them as Neville finished his own exercises. "Not bad," said Shikamaru. "Considering you started from nothing."

Hermione swiped the sweat off her face and didn't answer. Ron, however, pointed a finger at him. "Slave driver," he accused.

Shikamaru shrugged. Fair. But it was helping them in the long run, so he didn't feel bad.

"I have Quidditch practice tomorrow," said Harry, faintly put out. "I won't be able to move."

"Dramatic," said Shikamaru unsympathetically. "Make sure to stretch. Neville will show you how."

Ron lifted his head off the ground. "Where are you going?"

"Owlery," Shikamaru said over his shoulder. "Stretch or you'll be in a lot of pain tomorrow."

They grumbled but he heard them groan as they stood. He tucked his grin away and headed for the owlery. Greengrass met him near the entrance.

"You're late," she said, eyebrow ticked up.

"Sorry. Got held up."

She rolled her eyes but handed him a letter, thin and innocuous. "Keep my name out of it, Nara," she warned. Shikamaru nodded. It was the least he could do.

"Appreciate it," he said.

"I'm paying you back," she sniffed. "We're even."

Fine with him. He ducked into the owlery. He attached the letter to Hypatia's leg and watched her go. Then, he turned around-

And neatly sidestepped Fred as he rushed in. George followed.

"Good! We caught you!" said the latter. Shikamaru's eyebrows went up.

"Consider me caught," he said dryly. Fred jabbed a finger at him.

"We are hurt, Mr. Nara, that you could start a secret, mysterious club and not invite us!" he declared, other hand reaching up to smack his chest. George nodded at his side, pulling appropriately wounded eyes.

Shikamaru considered rolling his eyes. He wanted to. Clearly people were talking. It was probably inevitable considering they were school children and teenagers to boot, but still. At this rate, he'd have the professors breathing down his neck.

"Not so secret, then," he said, wondering if the House-elves had anything stronger than juice on hand.

"That's hardly the point," said George. "You invited the Slytherins before us. A travesty is what this is!"

Shikamaru scratched the back of his neck. "They're not...terrible." He even appreciated their ruthlessness and cunning minds. They were just unpolished, and their behavior was seen by most as slimy. That was unfortunate, because they'd probably fare pretty well in his original world.

"Next thing you'll tell us that Snape isn't the incarnation of the devil," said Fred, crossing his arms. Shikamaru kept his mouth shut and put his hands in his pockets. Compared to some people he'd met before; Snape was a terrible teacher but not much beyond that.

"They've converted you," said George faintly. "Next thing you know; you'll start wearing green-"

"And making snide remarks at all the other houses-"

"And tripping innocent muggle-borns-"

"Alright, stop," Shikamaru said, raising a hand. He was getting a headache. He knew the divide between houses was bad, but this...this was blatant prejudice and stereotyping. From people who were supposedly against that sort of thing from Slytherins. "Not every person in Slytherin is a blood-purist dumbass, you know. There are a number of half-bloods, and most of them don't care much about blood. They just got into Slytherin because of ambition or family ties."

In fact, aside from Malfoy's group, the Noble Houses, and some of the nastier older years, many of the Slytherins cohabitated with half-bloods and muggle-borns peacefully. A number of them made a show of disdain towards the latter students, but he had a feeling that was mostly due to peer pressure from their house members.

"Shika-"

"And furthermore, you're just perpetuating the cycle." He waved a hand. "Either way, you know about the group. Did you want to join or something?"

Fred and George exchanged glances. "Just like that?" Fred asked.

"Sure. I didn't ask you because I figured you wouldn't be interested, and I wanted to let the houses get used to each other without an inflammatory influence." He shot them a wry glance. "Don't deny it. You'd spend a lot of time pranking any of the Slytherins if you had the chance."

George sighed. "So, if we join, we can't pick on the snakes."

"No. And you'll have to work with them," he said firmly. "The divide between the houses is ridiculous. Friendly rivalry is one thing, but half the school seems to think that all Slytherins are Death Eater wannabes." He paused. "And you can't tell Harry, Hermione or Ron."

Surprised, Fred asked, "Why not? You're all practically attached at the hips, aren't you?"

"Harry would upset the social balance - he's an attention suck, even if he can't help it, and he's got a lot of charisma. The group needs to learn to think for themselves before they start blinding following another person. Ron has the same problem as most Gryffindors - a temper, a lack of subtlety, and an intense dislike for Slytherins. He'd start a fight in a day. Not to mention that he'd egg Harry on into stupid conflicts the second someone insults him. Hermione is…"

Shikamaru sighed. "Frankly, not a lot of people like her. They treat her alright, but she's not into fashion, she answers questions before anyone else can even process them, and she's bossy. Putting the three of them together in an unstable social atmosphere that's barely starting to settle is asking for a mass exodus of people who are already on the fence."

Not to mention that when he taught them, he wanted to be able to focus exclusively on them. And they all needed to learn to function in society. On that point, Ron was probably the best off, which was...depressing.

He leaned back. "So. If you want, the next meeting is on Friday across from the Barnabus the Barmy painting at five in the afternoon. But don't tell anyone and come expecting to read." He considered. "And wear clothes good for exercise."

Shikamaru slipped out past them. Hm. An unexpected development. Hopefully the twins could keep their meaner impulses in check. He'd make sure to keep Percy away from them and have Cedric watch the Slytherins in case any of them wanted to start something with the Weasley family. The last thing he needed was for a prank war to break out.

…

Fred and George, to his relief, didn't say a word to the Slytherins when they came on Friday. They shot Percy some incredulous looks, but they seemed to shelve their former attitudes towards Slytherin in favor of keeping the peace. Thank Merlin. Shikamaru was friends with them, and he'd do a lot for them, but he would have kicked them out if they upset the delicate peace that had settled on his group.

Despite Percy's warnings about keeping his guard up, Fred and George settled in smoothly. They were excellent at breaking any awkward tension that arose, and once none of the Slytherins took shots at their family, they started engaging with them more. In fact, as the group made its way through Lockhart's book, they offered some unorthodox but extremely effective solutions that had Percy flipping between brotherly pride and bafflement. Shikamaru just grinned lazily at the expressions of amazement and made a mental note to speak to the twins later for a surprise exercise sometime this year when everyone was a bit further along in spell-casting.

So, the Defense group was going well. The lessons with the Idiot Trio, however...those were not going nearly as well as he hoped they would.

Shikamaru rubbed the space between his eyes and debated the benefits of a frontal lobotomy. Sure, he'd be subject to seizures and possibly a complete change in personality, but the benefits. At least he wouldn't have to deal with this troublesome bullshit if he was stuck in an asylum.

"Harry, your strategy cannot be to just charge in and hope for the best," he said with an amount of patience. It may or may not have been a large amount of patience, but he deserved credit for trying. Harry, pink with frustration, threw his hands up.

"It's a long hallway! It's empty! What am I supposed to do?" he demanded, glaring down at the sheet of parchment with two simple parallel lines and an X on the far end.

"Thinking would be preferred," Shikamaru muttered. Hermione jabbed his side with her elbow, and he let out a long sigh. Beside Harry, Ron's face was also red, but his was from suppressed laughter.

"Harry, mate," he giggled, "the point is stealth. How's running going to keep you hidden?"

Harry shoved the paper over to him. "You do it then, Sir Strategist."

Shikamaru swiped the paper from under Ron's reaching fingers and pushed it back to Harry. "Ron's had his turn, and he succeeded. This is on you, Harry." Harry looked at him, truly frustrated, and dammit, these kids were making him soft.

Bah. Humbug.

Satisfied that he was still grouchy at heart, he sat up and listed numbers from one to five on the side of the parchment. "We'll take this in steps. I told you that you need to get to the end of this hallway without being detected. The hallway is twenty meters long. Every two, there's a door with someone inside who could catch you. What is your first step?"

Harry grumbled under his breath but leaned forward. His eyes narrowed in thought as he looked the paper over. "I guess...do I have my wand? I could cast a stealth charm of some kind?"

Shikamaru looked at him steadily. "Could you? Can you do that right now?" Harry looked up and frowned. "This is a realistic exercise, Harry. You can only do what you can right now, not what you might be able to in the future. You're on the right track, but what can you use instead of a Disillusionment Cha-"

"The Invisibility Cloak!" Harry said triumphantly. He looked at Shikamaru for confirmation, and the latter nodded.

"Assuming you took it with you," he agreed. He wrote down Invisibility Cloak next to the first step. "You have visual stealth. What's next?"

From there, with help from Ron and some careful guidance, Harry put together a solid list of actions. Use Invisibility Cloak, Stay low to the ground - "Even though you're invisible, you still make sounds and shadows, Harry." - Go slowly - "What if you trip and fall? That'd be bloody embarrassing, yeah?" - Have wand out and ready - "Always be prepared; Girl Guides use it; I don't see why we shouldn't- what? I can know these things, Hermione." - and finally, Stay calm - "Whatever you do, never panic. It's guaranteed to make a bad situation at least twice as bad."

At the end, Harry tossed down the pencil in relief. "Merlin," he said wearily. "This sort of thing is exhausting. Why do I even need to know, Shikamaru? I'm not good at strategies and things; I'm more the play-it-by-ear sort."

Shikamaru hmmed in acknowledgement. "That's fine, but learning at least the basics of how to think a situation through is a good tool. Besides, I'm not always necessarily going to be there, you know. You all need to learn how to make a decent strategy by yourselves in case we're all separated." He looked up at the long silence. Hermione was looking suspiciously shiny-eyed, and Harry and Ron were pale and not looking at him. "...what?"

No one answered for a long moment. Then-

"It's just, the last time we separated, you and Harry both ended up in the Hospital Wing," said Hermione quietly. Shikamaru stared at her and then sighed.

Lack of available mental health help was a severe oversight on the school's part. Sure, not every year had death-defying incidents for the students to run headlong into, but puberty was a horrifying experience in and of itself, and he'd never be convinced that the school couldn't afford to hire a professional for students to talk to. The Professors were there, but they weren't trained in mental health specifically, and he was sure that no one would ever go to, say, Snape for guidance on bullying.

"Alright," he said. Alright. "We're going to talk about this, and you're going to be honest." He caught Hermione's eye and said slowly but firmly, "What happened was not anyone's fault. Nod if you understand that."

Hermione slowly nodded, which was good, and Ron reluctantly followed. Harry, however, curled in on himself and refused to look up. The other two exchanged glances while Shikamaru rubbed a hand over his face.

"Care to elaborate, Harry?"

Harry was silent. Then, slowly, he said, "If it weren't for me, none of you would have been in danger."

Shikamaru valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If it weren't for you, chances are Voldemort would have gotten the stone because the teachers were too busy sitting with their thumbs up their asses."

Hermione glared at him in disapproval. "I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore knew what he was doing," she sniffed.

"Either he didn't know and left the stone guarded by puzzles that first-year students could get passed, or he did know and he put us all in danger purposely," said Shikamaru flatly. He wasn't sure which was worse, but given Dumbledore's complete lack of apology at the final feast last year, he suspected the latter. Signs were pointing in a more damning direction every time he thought the year over, and he didn't like what they were pointing to at all.

But that was anger-fuel to choke on later.

"But that's not the point. Harry, look at me."

Reluctantly, Harry did.

"Your own decision to investigate aside, nothing that happened last year was your fault. Maybe you shouldn't have gone looking, but considering the circumstances, I think you were fairly justified. You didn't make us come along; we chose to, and nothing you said or did would have changed our minds. Will you make mistakes in the future? Yes. But does that mean you should carry around guilt like an anvil? No. The best way to make up for your mistakes is to learn from them."

Harry hesitated. "So, you're saying I should look at what I could have done better?"

Shikamaru shook his head. "That's a good way to stay stuck in the past," he said frankly. "And while it's good to think about what you did wrong; you don't want to keep yourself from moving on. Instead, be prepared for next time."

"Next time?" Harry looked tired, but he didn't seem miserable anymore.

"The next time you're in a dangerous situation without any help from an adult or official, what should you do?"

"Well, that would depend on the situation, wouldn't it?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Shikamaru nodded. "Yeah, but there are a few things you should always try to do. One of which is to try and find a way to get an adult or authority figure even if they're not nearby or if you don't have much time."

"Neville," said Hermione in realization. "That's why you had Neville find Professor Snape."

"Even if they're not there, it's better for them to be notified and be on their way than to not have them at all," Shikamaru said. "But you're right, Harry. Responses depend on the situation. Which is why I'm giving you and the others situations to think through."

"For next time," Harry repeated, shoulders straightening. Thank everything he understood. Shikamaru didn't particularly want to deal with an inordinate amount of whining from any of them the next time he tried to get them to think outside the box a little.

Harry cast a doubtful glance at the paper. "Do you really think we'll have to sneak through a hallway, though?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "Hallway, narrow enclosed space. That was mostly to teach you the best way to stay stealthy."

Harry considered that. Then, he sighed explosively and sat up straight. "Alright then, give me another," he said. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, and Harry looked at him stubbornly. "I'll take it seriously this time, no whining."

Hm. Alright. Shikamaru could work with this. He flipped the paper over and drew a square.

"You're trapped in a square room. The dimensions are…"

…

Shikamaru sighed and threw his book aside. It landed with a soft thud on the floor, but he made no move to get it. Instead, he ran his fingers through his ponytail, which was becoming increasingly out of shape with time.

Nothing.

Not one indication of how to get back home. Oh, there was plenty about long-distance travel, some ideas on theoretical travel across space, and even some actual examples of time travel for some reason, but there wasn't any mention of crossing dimensions.

He'd started looking while at Neville's. The upside to being an old-money, esteemed family was that the Longbottoms had centuries of knowledge on magical theory and history. He'd barely made a dent in their library before school had begun again. And now, without the truly astounding amount of trouble that the Golden Trio had gotten into last year, he actually had some time and space for dedicated research. Which was, of course, proving fruitless.

The librarian wasn't of any use; his association with the Weasley twins made her dislike him just out of principle, and he wasn't sure how to ask about crossing dimensions or essence transfer anyway. Not that he'd proved that was what had happened.

He stared thoughtfully at the stack of books on the table in front of him, all leafed through and skimmed over. A number of them got close, but none quite hit what he had been looking for. Of course, in a school of children learning about magic, maybe he shouldn't have been expecting much science. Hell, the physics books he got out of the muggle libraries over the summer had at least touched on an idea of multiple universes, though it was fairly recent and it hadn't gotten much steam.

Maybe, though, he'd have better luck with the Restricted Section. Maybe not necessarily with finding a way to travel across dimensions, but there might be some clue as to how he'd gotten here in the first place. Frustrating as it was, he couldn't remember exactly what he'd been doing or where he had been before he gained awareness as a three-year-old. But he had, and it all reminded him uncomfortably of how Orochimaru had body-jumped, except without the Curse Seal. And this was across worlds. Somehow.

Groaning, he thumped his head onto the table. Maybe he'd be better off just trying to finish his mission, whatever that was. It likely had to do with the prophecy that woman had spouted at him, which definitely meant way more trouble than he wanted. On the other hand, not having any information on his old world was driving him crazy. He had no idea if they were carrying on, if they had noticed he was missing - was he even missing? Or was his old body just in a coma state? - or if time had miraculously frozen there and he was stressed for nothing.

Regardless, just like Harry and the square room exercise, Shikamaru was trapped in this world until he either found a way out or, presumably, finished his mission.

"There you are!" Hermione rushed in like a whirlwind, brushing aside his many books to drop down a stack of her own. Harry and Ron were similarly laden, setting their books on the table with exhales of relief. "We've been looking all over for you. What are you reading?" She glanced curiously at his array of books as he half-heartedly pushed them into a pile to make room.

"I'm single-handedly restarting and winning the Space Race," he deadpanned. All three of them looked blank. Children. Never aware of current events. He waved a hand. "Never mind. What's going on?"

Hermione pushed a book in front of him in answer. He squinted at the title and recited, "Why My Child is Hearing Voices." He looked up. "Someone have a mental illness they never told us about?"

Hermione looked startled. "What? No! Didn't Harry tell you about the incident in Lockhart's detention?"

That had been...what, two weeks ago?

"You're hearing voices?" Shikamaru asked flatly. Harry nodded.

"Just once. Um, but Lockhart didn't hear it, so…"

Shikamaru, very briefly, wanted to shove his face into his arms and scream. "Of course, you're hearing voices that no one else does," he muttered. "Don't look at me like that; you know this is so troublesome it can't even be measured by normal standards. What'd it say?"

"Er, something about ripping, tearing, and killing." Harry looked somewhat sheepish at the blank expression Shikamaru gave him. "I haven't heard it since, though!"

"That's not nearly as reassuring as you think it is," Shikamaru told him. He sighed. "Possessed teachers, murderous voices, what will you think of next? Anything else you've conveniently forgotten to tell me?"

Harry, looking a bit eager to shove the attention off himself, blurted out, "Ron's wand is broken, and when he tried to curse Malfoy it backfired and hit him instead!"

"Oi!" Ron sounded appropriately betrayed. Shikamaru's eyebrow climbed up his forehead.

"And you haven't asked your parents for a new one?" he said slowly. Ron flushed and looked stubbornly back at him.

"They'd just tell me it was my own fault," he said defensively. "Don't exactly want to get another Howler at breakfast."

Fair. But also-

"Stupid." Shikamaru leaned over and flicked his forehead. "How're you going to do anything this year with a broken wand? That's useless at best and clearly hazardous to your health at worst."

Ron didn't reply, but he also didn't concede. Stubborn, idiot child. Shikamaru would wrangle up something for either his birthday or Christmas. He wouldn't allow Ron to accidentally fry himself because his wand was broken and he was too pig-headed to owl home for a new one. Hopefully, he'd survive until then.

"Anyway, we were just researching magical phenomena on hearing voices," Hermione cut in. Shikamaru didn't push it, and Ron's shoulders relaxed from around his ears.

"Maybe it's the insanity kicking in," Shikamaru yawned, swatting at Hermione's hand when she jabbed him in the ribs. "Yeesh, woman, I was kidding. No, Harry, I don't actually think you're insane. You just have the actual worst luck."

Harry could hardly argue with that, see: his entire existence. So, he shrugged and pulled a book over and cracked it open. There was a pause. Then-

"Hermione, how many of these are on mental health?"

Hermione, in answer, propped her book up and hid herself behind it. Shikamaru was actually surrounded by children, and it wasn't the worst thing ever, but that lobotomy was sounding better with every passing day.

…

"Deathday Party?" That sounded about as fun as a diplomatic formal dinner in Kumo, but without any of the food to distract from the awkwardness and stony silences.

"It'll be fascinating," said Hermione keenly, clearly not thinking about how ghosts tended to either be crazy or depressing as hell. Generally, with no in between. Nearly Headless Nick was a peculiar outlier, but Shikamaru attributed that to the fact that he got his kicks from yanking his almost severed head off of his shoulders and showing off the spectral yet gruesome insides of his neck.

"Likely to be bloody boring," said Ron grouchily, clearly not thrilled with missing the Halloween Feast.

"We can eat food any time, Ron," sniffed Hermione. "Besides, it's not like we have to stay. We can just look around a bit, say hello to Nick, and then come back in time for some food." Ron didn't look convinced, but out of loyalty to Harry, he didn't complain again.

So, a couple of weeks later, as everyone else went to the feast, Shikamaru followed Harry to the party. Nick greeted them, appropriately solemn. Inside, it was nearly freezing - close enough that it resulted in the same amount of shivering by the living attendees - and there was a band playing the worst music Shikamaru had heard since Naruto had tried to serenade Hinata on their fifth anniversary.

And then, of course, there was the smell. Shikamaru was too sleep deprived for this.

"Ugh," said Ron, looking faintly green at the sight of the rotting food and burned cake. "Why?"

"To make it smell stronger, I suspect," said Hermione, delicately pinching her nose as she leaned in for a closer look. She glanced over at a ghost who was unhinging his jaw like a snake and walking through one of the dishes. "Can you taste it?"

"Almost," the ghost said sadly as he floated away.

"Almost," muttered Ron. "Why even bother if it's only almost?"

"We should mingle," said Harry, peering at the rotting haggis with sick fascination. "Don't want to be rude."

Shikamaru left them to it, splitting off and making sure to avoid the numerous ghosts. Considering that walking through one was not only rude but also like getting soaked in ice water for two seconds, it was both a courtesy and out of self-preservation. Most of the ghosts he didn't recognize, which made sense, but he did see a few familiar ones. The Fat Friar, Peeves - he made sure to steer clear, because Peeves was chaos personified and he just didn't want anything to do with him - even what he thought was the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw, though she tended to spend her time out of the public eye so he wasn't sure.

She glanced up and met his eye. It felt. Strange.

Then-

"Pimply! Pimply!" Shikamaru jerked out of the way of a wailing young ghost being pelted by peanuts from a cackling Peeves. He followed the trail of disturbed ghosts and found the Idiot Trio standing guiltily off to the side. Of course.

He looked back for Rowena, but she had disappeared into the amorphous mass. Stymied and a little bit irked because of it, he made his way back to the trio of Gryffindors.

"Proud of yourselves?" he asked. Hermione put her face in her hands, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

He couldn't take them anywhere.

Nearly Headless Nick appeared out of the crowd and drifted over to them. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Er, yeah," said Harry, clearly lying through his teeth. Shikamaru should teach them to lie better. Or maybe not; that would likely result in more headaches.

"Not a bad turnout," said Nick happily, ignoring the way Hermione's lips were tinged blue and the way Ron was trying very hard not to shiver violently in favor of surveying his guests. "The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent, you know... Well, it's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra…"

The orchestra chose that moment to stop of their own accord. A hunting horn sounded, echoing around the room, silencing everyone.

"Oh, here we go," said Nick bitterly.

Shikamaru had to carefully hold himself still as a dozen ghost horses with headless riders burst in through the walls. The assembled ghosts clapped wildly, though Nick didn't seem too happy about it.

The lead ghost jumped down from his horse and strode over to Nick, clapping him on the back hard enough that his own head threatened to fall off. The resulting byplay between the two ghosts was, if Shikamaru was being honest, interesting. He could see why Nick was stiff, but after hearing what he'd wanted from Harry in the first place, he also could see why it was never going to happen. It was superbly unfortunate to have the way he died stop him from joining a very exclusive after-death club, but that was just how life was sometimes. Or, how death was.

Nick left to attempt to give his speech, and he was thoroughly thwarted by Patrick, who was, in no uncertain terms, kind of a dick.

"I'm freezing," said Ron in undertone.

"Let's go," Harry agreed, leading the way out. The Idiot Trio made sure to smile very suspiciously and not at all convincingly - considering their teeth were chattering too hard to do so properly - as they backed out the door. Shikamaru just shook his head and walked out, hands in his pockets.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully as they walked towards the steps to the entrance hall.

Harry froze in a way that definitely meant more headaches for Shikamaru. He stumbled to halt, cocking his head and looking around wildly.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern.

"It's that voice again - shut up a minute-"

There was a pause as everyone else tried to hear what he was hearing.

"Listen!" said Harry. Shikamaru, Ron and Hermione all strained their ears to listen, but before they could say again that they weren't hearing anything, Harry took off. "This way!"

"Harry!" Hermione said in surprise, nonetheless following him. Ron was already running. No doubt, all three were running towards the trouble. Shikamaru ran a hand over his face, growling.

"Fuck everything," he muttered, starting after them.

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry said from up ahead. Of course, even that wouldn't stop them from going towards the thing instead of away from it and towards, oh, maybe a professor. If Harry got them all killed, good friend or not, Shikamaru would make whatever version of hell or heaven that existed a terrible existence for him.

They ran around the entirety of the second floor, finally stopping when they skidded around a corner and ended up in a deserted corridor.

"Harry, what the bloody hell?" Ron panted, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything."

Hermione gasped and pointed. "Look!"

Shikamaru peered down the corridor and found something glistening on the wall. Harry led the way closer, and the shapes slowly distinguished themselves as letters. They were-

"Is that blood?" Hermione asked shrilly. It looked like a red, viscous liquid. Shikamaru sniffed the air but couldn't find any of the accompanying copper-ish smell.

"Don't think so," he said, which didn't reassure her at all. They drew closer.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing hanging underneath?" Ron asked, voice shaking a little. At this point, it all spelled so much trouble, so Shikamaru didn't particularly want to get closer. In fact, he'd sooner just leave and let some other poor bastard deal with the mess, but the Idiot Trio inched forward despite what common sense said, so he was duty bound to follow them and make sure they didn't get themselves killed.

He grabbed Harry's elbow as the latter slipped in a strangely placed puddle of water on the floor, but otherwise kept an eye out for some kind of ambush. He hoped that this was just a very extreme prank.

That hope died a violent death when he saw Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff and didn't seem to be breathing, eyes wide and staring blankly ahead. And.

"Not the cat," Shikamaru said, done with everything and also kind of pissed off. Because, humans were one thing, but animals? That was offensive.

"We should get out of here," said Ron nervously. Score one for Gryffindor. Some of them did have common sense after all.

"Shouldn't we try and help-" Harry started, unable to tear his eyes away from the cat.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We shouldn't be here."

"Too late for that," said Shikamaru dryly as the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs came closer, like a march of doom. "Dammit. Couldn't leave your curiosity behind, could you?"

"Shikamaru, that cat is dead," said Hermione, scandalized. Joke was on her, Shikamaru was pissed and sleep deprived, and he wasn't afraid to act like it. Whatever she was about to add was soundly cut off as a mass of students came into the corridor and immediately spotted the cat. The silence pervaded the area like a thick, heavy fog.

Then, someone very familiar shouted, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

On an unrelated note, Shikamaru was getting sick of Malfoy and everything he stood for and held dear. Students all around them gasped dramatically. Shikamaru was, honestly, getting fairly sick of that too.

…

Severus's day was going well, for once. He'd made no less than two students cry in Potions before lunch, and he'd stumbled across an interesting discussion between Minerva, Lockhart, and Filius.

"-fine the students want to pursue other avenues, of course," the latter was saying. "But some of the content they seem to be working with is...hazardous."

Curious, Severus drew closer.

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, catching sight of him. Always an unfortunate occasion. "We were just discussing young Mr. Nara's little Defense club."

Severus's eyebrow rose. Mr. Nara's what?

"Mr. Nara has collected a number of students from the houses and created a Defense Against the Dark Arts group," said Minerva. For obvious reasons, her tone implied, though Lockhart seemed to miss it entirely. "I've heard whispers and rumors of the...intensity."

Yes. Mr. Nara did seem like the type to demand much, despite what his slouched posture and lazy drawl would say. "What do you say?" Severus asked Lockhart. The man, a buffoon, truly, beamed with a sickening number of teeth.

"I say that I am glad, for one, that young Shikamaru is taking the opportunity to try and improve. He took it hard, you see, after the lesson with the pixies. I imagine he wants to try and better his performance for next time," said Lockhart. Minerva's lips twitched, and Flitwick sighed. Severus remained stone-faced.

"I see." Arrogant, foolish, gullible; would the list of unsavory traits for one Gilderoy Lockhart never cease?

"We'll have to speak to him and at least get him to stop the unsanctioned activity until we can find someone to oversee the club," said Filius. Minerva cleared her throat and stepped away.

"I hardly see how that's necessary," she said, which made Filius double-take. "After all, we only have speculation to go off of, and we have no idea where they are meeting."

Severus knew that Minerva knew that it was really only a matter of asking the house-elves if they really didn't know. And he also knew that she knew that the two of them have had suspicions about the Come-and-Go Room for years now, but neither of them bothered to find it. He also knew that neither of them would mention that little tidbit.

"Minerva, really," squeaked Filius, plainly scandalized. Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"I would think it would do your heart good to hear that the students are getting in some extra practice," she sniffed.

"Practice," said Filius. "Last I heard, they were dodging curses and hexes."

Ah. That would explain some of the distinctly singed-looking students that had trooped into his classroom over the past few days. But considering no one had ended up in the Hospital Wing, it seemed worth it. Nara had likely been fed up with the lack of education in a fairly important area, so he'd taken matters into his own hands, completely under the professors' noses. Judging by the hushed nature of the whispers and rumors, he'd likely told the children to keep the group quiet, but he had failed to properly estimate the ability of children to keep their mouths shut on any kind of sensitive topic.

"My hands are tied," Minerva said breezily. "And Professor Lockhart doesn't mind. Do put it out of your mind, Filius - I'm sure it isn't a big deal." With that, she swept out of the room, looking utterly satisfied, leaving Filius sputtering behind her, Lockhart completely unaware that any of them were disparaging his teaching methods, and Severus hiding a smirk behind his long hair. Pomona, who had been eavesdropping, looked fairly delighted, and Rolanda was wheezing in her chair.
"Merlin, I love that woman," she cackled. Severus, for once, said nothing to disagree.

Now, arriving on scene to find Filch's abominable cat thoroughly petrified and a crowd of gasping, fearful students, he noted Nara smack dab in the middle of it all, looking very done. He was in fact frowning and looking down at the water beneath his feet.

"Is this sewage water?" he asked the world at large. "On top of everything else, we're having plumbing problems?"

"Shikamaru, be serious," hissed Granger. "Didn't you hear Malfoy?" Nara looked utterly unimpressed.

"I try not to listen to the words of idiots," he drawled, and some of the surrounding students snickered in spite of themselves. It seemed Severus' dear godson was not endearing himself to the masses. "What would he know, anyway? Does anyone even know what the Chamber of Secrets is? Or are they just scared of capitalized letters written in corn syrup and red dye which reference something that no one knows about?"

Some of the surrounding students stopped gaping and started regaining color.

"But...the heir of Slytherin," someone started. Nara threw his hands up.
"Does that mean anything to anyone? We don't know it's Salazar's heir - it could be the heir of the last Quidditch Captain for shit's sake." He heaved a massive sigh. That was about when Filch burst in and saw his cat.

"This is going to be my entire day," said Nara in resignation, ignoring Granger's elbow to the side. Severus saw him reach up and massage his temples as Filch started screeching and felt a moment of kinship. As he watched Nara's expression somehow manage to get increasingly flatter with every passing moment, he couldn't help but appreciate that finally, someone else in this madhouse had common sense and was suffering because of it.

Charms (Spells):

Freezing Charm (Immobulus): This makes its target unable to move and, interestingly enough, disables electronic devices. No time/weight limit provided.

Leg-Locker Curse (Locomotor Mortis): Binds the legs of the target together.

Disillusionment Charm (Unknown incantation): Spell to make something act like a chameleon, taking the color and texture of what is behind and around it.

Guest Reviews: (from bottom to top)

HelplessHare5: Your PM feature is blocked, so I'll answer your review here.

Glad to be back! Glad you're liking it! You too, and thank you very much for the review!

happy tears: Glad you were so excited! Thanks for telling me; honestly, hit me up with a PM and we can scream about Harry Potter or Shikamaru together.

tabi404: (Chapter 1): Thank you for reviewing! Glad you like my characterizations, I do my best. He starts out slow and then will basically epically avalanche, so. Look forward to that I guess. Hope you continue to read and like, thank you for the kind review!

Natalie: Honestly, you and me both buddy. Five years is...astronomical, and I remember being a young child (not literally) hoping people would read and like my story. I appreciate your kind words - to be honest, he's quite a bit more difficult than I first thought he would be, but it's been an exercise in growth and writing one of my favorite characters from Naruto, so I'm not complaining one bit. I'm glad you like the changes. I will absolutely finish this fic no matter what. Thank you for the review! :)

Ronski8: Glad you like it! Thanks for the review!

A/N: 2 things. 1: stopped doing the mini-author's notes in the middle of the story because it was breaking up the flow for me, and probably you. 2: I had so much fun with this chapter, but also so much trouble. The childhood scene at the beginning was a bit heavier than I meant it to be, but...well. I don't know what you were expecting from a scene where Shikamaru has to come to grips with his new life/body/environment. Thanks for the prompts; lots of people wanted this one so no special mention, but I super appreciate it all the same.

On that note: if I don't get to your requested scene in this book, it's because I couldn't write it for plot reasons, I couldn't write it because I couldn't get it down, or I just didn't get to it. Sorry in advance.

Also, more Snape! Yay! To be honest, he's a trip and a half to write, because he's such an utterly cynical, bitter bastard, but I enjoy the challenge of writing his sarcastic, mean-spirited wit, so.

If you don't know what the Wilhelm Scream is, you either have never watched an action movie from the 90s/2000s in your life, or you've never bothered to look up the sound. In any case, if you hear it, you'll probably recognize it.

See you soon I hope! Stay safe! Stay healthy!