Chapter 10: Same Old Arenas 1/6

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: It has been ten years (and one a couple extra months…) since I published the first chapter of Silent Humanity. It may be an arbitrary number of years, but it feels significant. A long time has passed and it's strange to look back on a full decade like this.

I'm curious, has anyone been reading this story since 2010?

I intended to get out the chapter on the date of the anniversary but then I hadn't quite covered everything I wanted to cover. With my updates coming as infrequently as they come, it seemed a little cruel to end it early.

Anyway, onto the reason you're here.

Enjoy the chapter.

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(Last Time)

As Ludo Bagman droned on about the allocation of tickets to Champions, paying guests, students, and the press as well as the various means by which external parties might arrive at the castle on the day, Gaara's mind was still stubbornly refusing to work on a solution to this latest, disastrous problem. He could bring nothing into the Task with him except for a potentially broken wand and the clothes on his back. No sand.

Then another thought occurred to the redhead that compounded the impending crisis of the first Task. Draco was going to be absolutely insufferable after having told Gaara not to rely exclusively on his sand in the Tournament.

Maybe, if he rescinded Draco's invitation to watch, he'd never find out?

Then he'd probably just have his father buy him a ticket and would be both smug and angry.

In Gaara's mental absence, Bagman had finished explaining the minutiae, and when tuned back in, Bagman was saying, "Now we will be opening the floor to questions for the Champions. Thank you for your patience."

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Gaara stood before the gathered press and he felt that familiar twinge in the back of his head, that headache that never went away, never dulled except for when he murdered someone (or, better yet, a crowd of people) who had been bothering him. Gaara certainly felt bothered. And Shukaku, screaming at him to slaughter them all and be done with the problem, was making far too much sense.

Harry had noticed Gaara's mood turn sour. Certainly not because he had some finely-tuned empathic sense of the people around him (Hermione would vehemently deny any such sense existed); it was plainly written on Gaara's face. He looked furious, an expression that looked all the more significant because of his normally calm and composed manner. His hairless eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes were growing bloodshot from not blinking and his nostrils were flaring so harshly, he might have been snarling under the oppressive noise being made by the reporters vying to ask the first answerable question of the Champions.

Harry wondered if he should do something, though he didn't know what he could do in this situation. And why was Gaara so angry. No one had tried to ask him any insulting or proving questions in the last few minutes, and he could hardly be angry about his wand. It wasn't as though nobody had warned him not to pick out bits of wood with a knife.

As they had lined up to answer questions, Harry had hoped the press might notice Gaara's mood and grant him at least a brief reprieve to collect himself while they asked the other Champions some questions.

Harry had made the rookie mistake of assuming that the press had a modicum of human decency when he had this hope. The first question permitted by Crouch had been pointed directly at Gaara like a rapier thrust right at him.

"Gaara, why did you damage your wand?"

The room went quiet as they waited for the furious-looking boy to answer, but he didn't. Gaara didn't even look in the man's direction, he just stared ahead. The reporters standing directly in front of him, after taking their pictures, shifted a little and found that the redhead wasn't looking at them either, he was just staring into space.

Gaara's tactic since he had come to the media's attention had been to steadfastly ignore any questions asked of him (and it had been employed on those outside of the press as well, for that matter). Harry had assumed, in his second false assumption of the moment, that Gaara's apparent rage might have inspired a more forthcoming response. And instead, to Harry's relief and the reporter's frustration, Gaara maintained his absolute silence.

Absolute except for… did Harry hear a hum? Or, was Gaara actually growling a little bit?

Gaara was so apoplectic that he was snarling.

Harry was stuck between sliding a couple inches further away and somehow trying to distract the redhead. There wasn't really any reason it fell to Harry to stop Gaara from doing something stupid but somehow he did feel responsible. Perhaps it was because he was a fellow Hogwarts Champion. Perhaps it was because he was Sirius' other adopted son. Or, perhaps it was because he was the closest person and the only one who could hear Gaara growling.

What could he do?

Aunt Marge used to employ a water spray bottle to stop Ripper from growling at Dudley, but Harry didn't like his chances if he tried casting Aguamenti at the redhead. Certainly not when he was in such an inexplicably bad mood.

After a couple more beats, Fleur Delacour stepped in, breezily remarking that wands do get damaged from time to time, and it must have just been the poorest luck for it to happen so close to the first Task.

Watching that and what followed, with both the elder Champions answering every question, even those directed towards Gaara and him, Harry marvelled at the maturity and professionalism the pair showed. He wondered if it was purely a mark of their ages, that he would be the same when (if) he made it to their age. Or was this another part of what had singled them out as being Champions? Were they exceptional in all things, including press relations?

Yet another area about which Harry could feel inadequate. At least he was better at handling the press than Gaara, he could tell himself.

Eventually Harry had to answer a question or two, since it would have sent a peculiar signal if neither of the British Champions could marshal a single response between them. Sadly, it came at an inopportune moment:

"Mister Potter, are the rumours true that you and Gaara were bitter rivals before you were both selected to be Champions?"

Harry glanced back towards Gaara. No reaction.

"Um… no, I wouldn't say that, no." Harry did not know how to describe his relationship with Gaara, but regardless he didn't want to start any unpleasant rumours in the tabloids about them fighting. "We're definitely not rivals."

Harry was pretty proud of himself for having headed off a press disaster all on his own, like the other Champions.

"So, then you admit that you and Gaara are working together?" The reporter shot back, quick as a whip, "And do you also admit that the two of you worked together to gain entry into the Tournament?"

The room stilled and Harry felt like a deer in headlights. How was he supposed to get out of this one?!

He looked and there was no chance Gaara would clear things up. In fact, Harry could only hope that Gaara continued to keep his mouth shut rather than makes things worse. The adults were staying out of it as well. What could he say? He lied before? Maybe he could fake being under the Imperious and do something crazy to get out of it.

"I for one do not believe for one single second that either Monsieur Potter or Monsieur Gaara had anything to do with the irregularities in the Tournament." Fleur said suddenly, stepping forward a little. "And I doubt that there was any conspiracy by the British to have them both selected to cheat in the Tournament that they proposed."

Krum also spoke up, "And if the British are to blame for the mistake, they would have chosen more experienced Champions to cheat."

Harry felt Delacour was being more supportive than Krum, but nonetheless, they had both spoken in his defence and he appreciated it.

Harry settled down a bit as he was left alone again. Apparently the elder Champions were happy to continue to block questions directed at him, saving him embarrassing himself again and giving them more opportunities to shine. Everyone was happy.

Except for Gaara.

Gaara had done nothing to help their situation and was still looking like a fiercely-sulking child.

Harry contented himself that Gaara wouldn't be able to sit around and do nothing in the actual Tasks, with his autonomous sand being banned, after all.

Despite their best efforts, eventually the questions did finally circle back to the quieter Champions, with a particularly notorious reporter finally pushing her way to the front of the pack to ask Gaara quite pointedly, "Gaara, now that you'll be unable to use the sand you've become known for relying on, how will you cope with the Tasks ahead considering your rumoured magical ineptitude?"

Harry thought everyone might have been stunned with how tactlessly that had been put to the redhead.

Gaara had been staring down at his wand for a few minutes by that point, his brows still scrunched together. Harry wondered how long the reprieve would last before everyone admitted Gaara wouldn't answer the question and they moved on to someone else.

However, always one to confound expectations, Gaara did look up, right in the eyes of the obnoxious reporters, and said, "I will succeed."

No one had expected him to answer, much less to answer with such understated confidence. After that, the reporters, including the most obnoxious one, tried once again to cajole Gaara into elaborating on his first answer, or to respond to any of their other questions. However, it seemed those three words had expended Gaara's expository quotient for the day and he'd returned to his trademark silence.

Eventually the press conference drew to an end. The reporters had not finished with their endless slew of questions but, rather, the assembled Ministry and teaching professionals had started to fidget. An hour of standing was more than some people, enfeebled by age or indolence, could bear.

The adults called an end to proceedings when it suited them, and then the Champions were permitted to leave at last. However, normally first to leave any room given the change, Gaara instead elected to hang back by the wall to see if he could catch a moment with the Headmaster. This was directly contrary to the clear directive he had been given by the decrepit man not long ago, that they could afford to be seen to be colluding.

Delacour and her enormous headmistress left first, whispering between themselves even as Madam Maxine ducked through the doorway. Next went Karkaroff with Krum following behind; no whispers were shared between the militaristic pair. Gaara expected if there had been whispers, they would have flowed in only one direction, from the headmaster to his pupil and there would be no backtalk.

Harry had seemed to be waiting on Gaara, strangely, perhaps thinking they would be going back to what little remained of their double Potions lesson. When it became clear that Gaara was in no rush, Harry huffed, likely realising how silly he had been to expect anything different, and left on his own. Gaara noted that, despite Harry leaving in order to return to their ditched lesson, the Boy-Who-Lived was walking at a noticeably sedate pace. Gaara could certainly relate. Potions with Snape was definitely not something to rush back to.

The reporters started to drift away when no one from the gathering of Hogwarts staff or Ministry officials would respond to their probing questions other than tell them that the ceremony was over. Only one or two bothered approaching Gaara and he didn't even respond to tell them to leave.

Then it was just Gaara, the people from the Ministry, and Dumbledore and McGonagall. Gaara had hoped he would be able to fade into the background long enough for the others to leave or for someone to say something worth listening in on. However, as Baki had often tried telling him, Gaara was not well suited to being a spy. Not least because his bright red hair was about as subtle as Gaara's usual tactics.

"Gaara, could you go back to your lesson, please." McGonagall patiently said.

Gaara found every eye in the office on him and he could happily ignore most of them except for two pairs. Dumbledore's were stern. Gaara assumed he was displeased that Gaara was drawing more attention to himself in the office, or else it was simply the enormous stress he was under.

The other pair of eyes were the ones that impressed upon Gaara the necessity of leaving. Morbidus had managed to remain largely unnoticed in the room filled with reporters in a feat of stealth that had Gaara wondering whether the insectoid man had undergone any sort of training outside of being a civil servant. Now the room was significantly quieter, and in the stillness it was harder to ignore the predator waiting in the back, having watched Gaara for most of the event.

That watching had not gone entirely unnoticed, and it had definitely put Gaara in a worse mood, already soured by the entirely unfair restriction placed upon the Tournament. The way Morbidus looked at him reminded him of the Fourth Kazekage.

Gaara turned on his heel and walked straight to the door without a word or a glance back. He'd noted the time before leaving and he had another fifteen minutes before Potions was due to end. If he went straight there, he would have to spend at least eight minutes in Snape's company, so his choice was limited to leaving the castle for a while (probably a few hours) and pretending he got lost again (an excuse that had increasingly strained credibility over the months and now year and half that he had been in this world), or else he could walked very slowly and arrive just as the lesson had drawn to a close. Snape would be unlikely to complain either way unless Gaara actually did show up to take part in the end of the lesson.

On the other hand, if Potter had hurried back, it would be undeniable that Gaara had skipped the lesson and Snape would deduct more House Points. The points didn't matter to Gaara but Draco still seemed surprised and offended when Gaara wilfully sacrificed them.

Gaara decided Draco's continued disbelief that Gaara didn't value the school point system as the blond did was better to risk than actually having to listen to Snape.

It would be a small miracle if Gaara hadn't murdered the infuriating man by the time he returned home. He should probably warn Dumbledore of that the next time they talked. He doubted it would get him back out of Potions, but at least then the Headmaster could not act so shocked when Gaara actually did crush the head of Slytherin to death.

Dear gods that would feel good.

Gaara recognised that he was starting to get a little light-headed over the thought of murder so he shook off the thoughts and started walking. He wouldn't bother going to meet Draco at the end of Potions. He needed to clear his head right now and he knew just the three-headed distraction that could help him.

Gaara knew roughly where Fluffy would be this time of day so he needed to circle around the castle before he left through the window. None of the professors would be angry with him leaving via the window as long as he didn't walk down past any of their lessons and distract the students.

In a world filled with magic, wizards had a strange hang-up over him walking along walls.

He had to take a different route when the fastest path to the correct side of the castle was blocked by a couple of lingering reporters who were waiting for the Ministry workers to come through. They would be kicked out long before that happened, but Gaara didn't want any of them making his headache worse than the Ichibi already was.

He never had these problems with the reporters in his home world.

It was the elemental nation's worst kept secret that every newspaper had at least one shinobi spy on the payroll. It was just considered the cost of doing business. No one knew who in the newspaper would be the spy, but someone would collect information and alert their kage about any shinobi-related stories. Editors would be bribed, threatened, assaulted, or killed if they didn't immediately withdraw any stories deemed disadvantageous to the village.

In one noteworthy incident that had circulated amongst several villages, one small but widely read paper in Fire was said to be staffed almost entirely by spies. While the paper became a hit with civilians, it soon became apparent to shinobi that almost every story it published was being intercepted and changed as all the stories about nation with a notable shinobi force, including Fire, was filled with blatant lies.

Down the side corridor, Gaara heard a voice. It could have been a lesson being carried out but for the fact that he was reasonably certain none of the professors sounded like that, and that the room he was walking past wasn't any of the classrooms currently in use.

So, who…?

"Don't pay attention to that, it's just taking notes." The voice said in a drawl that Gaara couldn't place. It did sound a little familiar, though. "Now, while it's just the two of us, why don't you tell me the real story of how you came to be entered."

Oh, it was that unpleasant reporter woman, Skeeter. Why was she still here, hiding in what he was beginning to suspect was not a disused classroom but instead a cupboard?

Gaara ignored it.

"Um…" That voice from inside the cupboard Gaara recognised a little more strongly. Somehow, in retrospect, it seemed inevitable that Potter would be the one involved.

Gaara wondered who he could tell about this. Normally McGonagall would have been a safe bet. She would have been up from her office and back here in less than two minutes, and would have hexed the obnoxious reporter in less time still. But she was still in Dumbledore's office.

Gaara could just leave him there. Potter wasn't his problem. Better yet, maybe he could block the door, and then both of the annoyances could stay in there and slowly starve to…

Okay, he was definitely having a murderous day. This is what Aragog's progeny were for; a few dementors would have been good right about now as well.

At times like these, when all he wanted to do was kill people, he tried to imagine what a sane person would do. However, with only assassins and child soldiers to be his point of reference in his home world, he had instead asked himself what his first friend would do. Skipping impassioned speeches, ramen eating competitions or head-butts, Gaara knew he would have to help the acquaintance in need, despite having not internal desire to do so.

Then he could go and kill some spiders in the forest.

Gaara didn't knock. Inside the cupboard stood Potter and Skeeter, and they couldn't be more than a foot apart from one another. Potter looked appropriately uncomfortable with the proximity.

Both Potter and the reporter looked startled to be interrupted, but while the boy's shock morphed into relief at a potential ally to help him escape, Skeeter's did not show any disappointment at her coerced interviewed being prematurely called to any end. In fact, her ruby-red lips pulled into an approximation of a smile when she saw who had burst in.

"Oh, just the Triwizard Champion I've been wanting to talk to!" She exclaimed, holding out her hand to for him to shake or kiss. He did neither. She withdrew her hand easily, as if she were used to her greetings being rejected rudely. "Rita Skeeter, at your service."

Gaara had definitely remembered who she was. In his mind's eye he could vividly recall the multiple inflammatory articles she had written about him.

Skeeter repositioned herself so that she was just ever-so-slighty in the way of Potter's escape, but she had her entire focus directed towards Gaara who stood defiantly in front of her, as if he failed to recognise the awesome power of her pen.

"Now that I've got you here, I have a few questions and I'm sure you would just love to set the record straight." A floating notepad and quill flew out of the cupboard and flipped to a fresh page in anticipation of Gaara's answers.

"First of all, what is your full name? Is it true that you're in hiding and that's why you've hidden your surname from every record?" She started as her quill filled at least a page and half with notes that Gaara did not believe could have been restricted only to the words that had come out of her mouth. "And how did you manage to convince Headmaster Dumbledore to go along with your deception?"

"Gaara is my only name." He thought the truth was less likely to draw suspicions over links between him and the Headmaster.

"But you wouldn't tell me if you were in hiding if you were, am I right?" She smiled and didn't seem to need an answer from him for her quill to continue to nearly shred pages as it scratched along at record speeds.

Gaara didn't bother responding to that question, nor to the one about Dumbledore.

"You were involved in the attack last year, were a thousand dementors laid siege to the castle over the course of the night, weren't you?" Gaara didn't respond. He just needed to figure out how to move her out of the way to let Potter escape and then he could forget the whole thing (until the newspaper came out tomorrow).

When Gaara didn't answer her, she continued. "You were also involved in the capture of Peter Pettigrew as well, if I'm not mistaken. And, again, during the attack at the Quidditch World Cup during the summer, you are supposed to have fought alongside some of the adult witches and wizards against suspected Death Eaters. There were stories that you even killed someone."

Gaara didn't hear a question, but nonetheless her remarks were starting to concern him. He had tried (admittedly, not very hard) to remain inconspicuous since arriving in this world, and yet this woman had taken a particular interest in him and connected him to some important events.

Gaara gritted his teeth and conjured the good person that was inside of him, as Temari had put it once. Killing this woman here would be the easiest solution, and it might head off some likely problems down the road. But there was a witness, and he couldn't just kill people that got in his way.

Apparently.

"If you would prefer to make this a more personal article, I would be happy to oblige you." She said, smiling even wider in what Gaara thought was supposed to be a comforting manner. Gaara hoped his smiles weren't that unsettling anymore. He'd checked in the mirror and he didn't think so. "For instance, would you care to comment on the precise nature of yours and Draco Malfoy's relationship?"

Gaara didn't think any answer would have helped at this point. Draco seemed to be quite sensitive on this topic so Gaara didn't want to make it any worse, and another lesson his family had taught him was that sometimes a denial just made things worse. Temari always teased Kankuro even more when he denied his puppets being dolls.

Then another option occurred to Gaara, rather than killing the infuriating woman. He reached forward, laying his hand on her shoulder and shoved her aside into the cupboard. She braced herself against the wall, looking surprised and dishevelled at the sudden physical confrontation. Apparently she hadn't suspected the delicate-looking child capable of such brute force without using his infamous sand.

Such a simple solution but, as Harry was now able to squeeze out of the cupboard, apparently an effective one. And no one had to die (though the death toll amongst the acromantulas would surely rise as a consequence).

Skeeter looked absolutely shocked to have been thrown out of the way in such a way. Gaara assumed it was an act as he could not believe for a second that someone as obnoxious as her had not been routinely shoved or manhandled in the course of her dubious duties. Frankly, with the way she had been acting, Gaara did not think she could honestly be surprised to face an attempt on her life, even if it turned out to be significantly more successful than any previous, amateur attempts.

"Wait until my readers hear about this!" She declared as Harry moved to stand behind Gaara. He wasn't afraid, he was just eager to leave but he didn't want to leave Gaara there on his own after the redhead had effectively rescued him. Harry's one comfort in this situation was that Gaara was not the type of person to go telling anyone that he'd done it.

"Your readers will struggle to discern fiction from real events." Gaara said.