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

A crescent moon shone brightly, then disappeared behind a cloud. The shadows changed in the forest, lengthening as the light faded. It was quiet. Suddenly the wind picked up, shattering the silence with a low howl. The rustling of the trees gathered, grew and crashed as the wind gave a last, feeble moan, and then the stillness resumed. It was a night for dark thoughts and darker deeds, a night which carried a taste of blood, a smell of flesh, a colour of death…

The wizard shivered, and resumed his watch. Stop it, he thought. Stick to your duty. He stared at the shadows, then turned to his right. The wards were well set, but even so, there was always a chance someone might slip through. There were four guards on the perimeter, all newly arrived, all fulfilling an act of good faith on the part of their leader. Its hard, joining a fight midway, he thought. You can't be trusted because you weren't there from the start, but you can't be rejected because allies always come in handy, so you do the monkey work till you can move up. The wizard fingered the clasp at his neck, then pulled the cloak more closely around him. He was not used to sentry duty, but he was strong and willing, and desperate to prove himself as only a young man is. He gazed out into the night, hoping that someone would be foolish enough to come, but nervous that one of the others might beat him to it.

Sighing, he removed a flask from his belt, opened it and took a long drink. The warm liquid flowed through him, refreshing and restoring him. Feeling more alert, he replaced the flask, then walked over to the first oak tree. He made a round of the edge of the forest, then returned to his post. Nothing to report. Nothing out of place. Nothing here at all.

A sound on his left made him start. Automatically, his wand was up and pointing. "Lumos" he muttered. The light revealed nothing, but still he looked – there! A movement! "Stupefy!" The red beam arced through the gloom, hitting its target. The wizard walked over, scanning the trees for other adversaries, wand up and ready for more. Arriving at the target, he stopped, eyes widening.

It was a squirrel.

Shaking his head, the wizard returned to his post. A damned squirrel! I Stunned a squirrel! He replaced his wand, and resumed his watch, still rueful at his foolishness. He'd acted like a kid playing Auror, jumpy as a grasshopper and twitchy as a cat. This won't do, he thought. Not if he wanted to impress. He needed to shape up, switch on and get with the program. Either that, or go home and leave the fighting to the big boys. His stomach turned at the thought. No way. He would show them just how tough he was.

The shadows shifted and swirled. The wizard stared into them, transfixed. Since childhood he had always loved to stare into shadows. A patch of shadow on his right shifted, floating a little, then disappeared. The wizard narrowed his eyes. What did grandma say? Stare at shadows, and they stare back... The memory made him smile. Foolish wisdom, from foolish people. Nothing for a man to concern himself with. Another shadow shifted, this time on his left. A shape seemed to step out of it, then disappear again, only to reappear fifty meters in front of him and vanish again. The wizard gasped. He'd never seen anything like it. Grinning foolishly, he looked again for the shape. Nothing on the left. Nothing on the right. There! No, wait... He turned. The shape was behind him, a couple of meters away. He moved to investigate it, and it disappeared. He was starting to get annoyed. Drawing his wand again, he looked for the shape. It was gone. The wizard blinked twice, then shook his head. Still nothing. Must have been my imagination…

A flicker of movement made him turn. The shape was behind him. It had coalesced into a man-sized figure. Before the wizard could even draw breath, a hand clamped round his mouth and something slammed into his ribs. A short sword sliced off his hand. It fell to the dirt, still clasping the wand. Blood spurted from the stump, making a soft patter as it melted into the leaves. The hand pushed the wizard down, and the dagger plunged into his throat. Choking on the bubbles spewing from his mouth as a fountain exploded from his neck, the wizard scrabbled in the dirt, his one hand rending the soil with its nails.

The figure moved away.