Chapter 14: (2) Chapter 4: Wilhelm Scream 1/2

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."