Chapter 26: 1-16: Debriefing
Disclaimer: Being neither British nor Japanese, it should therefore come as no surprise that I own neither Harry Potter nor Naruto, nor anything from their respective franchises.
Classes that Friday were canceled aside from exams; a rotation of other teachers would cover the remaining Defense exams. Iruka, meanwhile, spent the morning in the Hospital wing getting the story from Hermione and a now-awake Neville.
Apparently, the three had headed from Sealing class directly to the office of their Head of House. Unfortunately, Minerva hadn't believed them that the Stone was under threat. She was totally confident in its protections, and didn't let them explain the situation. Of course, it didn't help that the attempted explanation was coming from three frantic first-years that didn't have the complete picture themselves and were talking about something they weren't supposed to know anything about in the first place. Still, the phrase 'due diligence' would be coming up in Iruka's next conversation with the Transfiguration teacher.
The trio had then discussed their next course of action: Hagrid was the only other staff member still available that they were sure even knew about the Stone, and was also the only one they were at all close to. His hut was a long way to go for something so urgent, especially with curfew fast approaching. They were likely to be stopped by another Professor, and there was a good chance that he wouldn't be home when they got there anyway. With no confidence in their ability to recruit any of the staff to back up their teacher, they resolved to aid Iruka themselves. As much as Iruka wanted to be mad at them for giving up on the staff so easily, he couldn't help the swell of gratitude at their show of loyalty and dedication.
Given the imminent curfew, and the advantages inherent in stealth, S.E.N. made a stop at Gryffindor Tower to drop off their bags, grab the flute Harry had received from Hagrid, and gather under Harry's cloak before sneaking back to the third floor. The flute had worked to lull Fluffy to sleep, and the three had dropped blindly into the darkness; Iruka could only assume that there was some sort of enchantment on the shaft to slow the fall to a safe speed. Neville had almost instantly recognized the Devil's Snare, and Hermione's signature bluebell flames had driven it back. Based on Neville's knowing look towards a slightly sheepish Hermione, the chuunin had to assume that there was some embarrassing detail they were carefully omitting from that part of the tale.
With the key's wing so badly damaged, it hadn't taken Harry long at all to retrieve it, while Hermione gathered up the shuriken Iruka had thrown, distributing them between the trio as they moved on (at this point in the tale, they each returned their portions to Iruka). The chessboard had frustrated them for a time, as none were particularly skilled at the game, but between the three of them they'd been able to pull out a win. Unfortunately, that win had come at the cost of Neville being captured, which drew a wince from Iruka as he recalled how brutal the captures in that set had been. The young Gryffindor had been knocked unconscious, and was still recovering from a nasty concussion. Before being taken, Neville had urged his friends to continue without him while reassuring them that the move was necessary. With Neville now unconscious at that point in the tale, Hermione continued her recounting alone.
As with Iruka, Harry and Hermione had quickly passed the unconscious troll. The dentists' daughter had insisted on double-checking the solution her teacher had written down for the potions puzzle for safety's sake. Confirming that the smallest bottle held the potion required to move forward, neither realized that it had to be self-refilling, and so both had concluded that only one of them could move forward. Harry encouraged Hermione to go back to get Neville to the Hospital Wing and do her best to contact Headmaster Dumbledore. She had actually passed the Headmaster in the corridor outside Fluffy's room, passing on what little she knew of events below, before helping a semiconscious Neville down to Madam Pomfrey's care.
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Contrary to Poppy's eminently sensible prescription for rest, Albus had spent much of the night liaising with the DMLE. A death at Hogwarts, even that of the Defense Professor (a decidedly accident-prone position in recent decades), was a serious incident and needed to be reported. That he had died while attempting to murder a student during an attempted robbery just added to the mess, never mind the identity of the student in question. Albus had been forced to explain to an irate Amelia Bones about Nicholas's Stone and the protections placed on it, as well as Quirinus's actions over the course of the year and the plan to bait him into action in order to finally prove wrongdoing.
Amelia had not been pleased when she learned precisely whose face had been hidden under that purple turban, a sentiment Albus heartily shared considering the fact that it meant that Voldemort had infiltrated Hogwarts right under his nose and spent nearly an entire school year surrounded by vulnerable and impressionable children. Unfortunately, both reluctantly agreed that there was simply not enough evidence to officially identify the wraith. Given that lack, and the danger inherent in effectively announcing to those Death Eaters still at large that their former master was not wholly dead, it was decided between them to keep the whole matter as quiet as possible, as neither wanted to give Lucius Malfoy and his allies an opportunity to force Albus and possibly others out of Hogwarts in favor of teachers more in line with the Dark.
Once all of Amelia's questions had been answered adequately (save for those that would require her to speak with Professor Umino) and Quirinus's remains had been removed to the DMLE morgue, Albus stole a few hours of precious sleep before reluctantly spoiling Nicholas and Perenelle's breakfast with news of their Stone's near-theft. Much of his morning was spent in Devon, delivering the Stone back to its owners and discussing their options going forward.
After returning to the castle for a late lunch, he first visited the Hospital Wing to speak with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom in greater detail than the previous night's urgency had permitted. Professor Umino had conveniently also been present for similar reasons, so after the interview Albus asked the visiting scholar to his office to discuss the previous night's events and provide a statement to the DMLE. While his Seals teacher was speaking to the Aurors, Albus put quill to parchment in order to notify Augusta Longbottom of young Neville's injury the previous night.
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Neville was released from the Hospital Wing on Saturday morning; Harry wouldn't wake until early the following day, according to Madam Pomfrey. Thanks to a thorough scan (at Iruka's prompting), the school Healer was also working out a potions regimen to hopefully correct some of the effects of long-term low-level malnutrition. She was already planning to vanish and regrow a couple of bones that showed evidence of improperly-set fractures, likely injuries from 'Harry Hunting' and bones made weak through lack of proper nutrients. It was actually lucky for Harry that he was unconscious and would remain so throughout the bone regrowth process, as it was apparently quite unpleasant.
Iruka spent several hours that day with Hermione and Neville, talking over what had happened. All three were a bit distracted with concern for Harry, but with Neville under orders to take it easy they couldn't work the tension out with physical training. Instead, Iruka took the two through Thursday night step by step, reviewing their actions and decisions in detail. He praised them where appropriate, but also pointed out their mistakes and places where they had better options (though their only big mistake was giving up so quickly on finding adult help). After going through their account, he shared his own and all three examined it for critique; he too got a good review for most of it, but definitely lost points at the end. The remainder of their time that day was spent talking about how they'd felt during the crisis, and how they'd been feeling since, as Iruka wanted to make sure that both children were dealing with it all in a healthy way (and no matter what the Sixth said, chronic tardiness and reading adult novels in public were not healthy ways of dealing with anything).
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True to the school Healer's prediction Harry woke, groggy and weak, on Sunday morning. Both Iruka and the Headmaster had been waiting by the young boy's bedside, though other than providing some quick assurances about the safety of Neville, Hermione, and the Stone, the chuunin let his current employer do most of the talking.
Harry was clearly even more frustrated than his teacher at Dumbledore's refusal to share Voldemort's motivation in targeting the youngest Potter a decade before. The elder wizard's explanation for Quirrell's burns seemed to confirm Xeno and Pandora's theory, but his elucidation of the reasons behind Snape's vitriol towards Harry gave Iruka a headache. As egotistical as his description of his use of the Mirror was, though, it was admittedly a brilliantly elegant protection.
Finally, once all of Harry's questions to the Headmaster had been answered (or at least addressed), the Grand Sorcerer politely excused himself to attend his various responsibilities. With Madam Pomfrey relaxing in her office and the Hospital wing otherwise unoccupied, Iruka took the opportunity to cast a basic privacy spell.
"It didn't help much, did it?" Harry's face showed only confusion at his teacher's question. "When Headmaster Dumbledore told you that Quirrell's death wasn't your fault, it didn't make you feel all that much better. While you may know here," Iruka gently tapped his temple, "that it was purely due to the actions of Quirrell and Voldemort, you don't really feel it here." He tapped over his heart.
Based on his student's expression, he knew that he'd hit the mark but that Harry was now wondering how he knew. "You know what I used to train students for, back home. They'd graduate, get assigned to teams, go out on missions... and sooner or later they'd come back from a mission with that same look in their eyes. It's the look of someone who's been in mortal combat for the first time and come back alive, with all that implies for their enemy. That you're not actually responsible at all for Quirrell's death doesn't matter right now as much as the fact that you feel responsible."
Iruka paused for a few moments to gather his thoughts. "I was almost exactly your age when I killed for the first time. It started out as a pretty standard low-level mission, just escorting a merchant from Konoha to the capital. The road was well-traveled and well-patrolled, nowhere near anything dangerous; it should have been a simple walk there and back."
"It wasn't."
"On our second day outside the village, a group of bandits ambushed us. They weren't particularly well-equipped or well-trained, but they were numerous and clearly more than a little desperate." His eyes clouded over in remembrance. "Hiro-sensei went through them like a whirlwind through a pile of leaves, but a couple managed to slip past and rush us. My teammates and I brought them down, no problem, until one of them charged me with a kunai he'd picked up off the ground. It felt just like training, like a spar. I threw my own kunai at him; looking back I must have expected him to deflect or dodge it like one of my teammates would have, but he didn't have our training."
The next part was hard to remember, even three decades later. "It hit him right where I'd aimed it, buried itself in his throat. He dropped his kunai, clutching at the one I'd thrown as if it would somehow go away. Luckily he was the last to get through; even with all the violence around me, I couldn't look away from him, and probably wouldn't have been able to get my guard up in time if someone else had come at me. I just watched in horror as he laid there, saw the fear in his eyes as they slowly dimmed. I'd seen worse before, a lot of it was even happening around me right then, but this was something I did."
"It didn't matter that I didn't mean to kill him like that. It didn't matter that if I hadn't acted, he would have killed me, and possibly one of my teammates or our client. A man died in pain and fear at my hand, and nothing I could do would ever change that or take it back. We may have had classes on how to deal with killing, learned coping methods, been taught to shut away our feelings, been conditioned and prepared to handle it; none of that meant a damn when you saw the light fade from a human being's eyes and knew that it was because of you."
"That night, after everyone else was asleep, Hiro-sensei sat down beside me, and we talked. He shared the story of his first kill, gave me his own personal tips on coping, and reassured me again and again that he was proud of me. I still had nightmares that night, but spending time around my team and our client drove a lot of them away by the time we reached the capital."
"I am proud of you, Harry. I am proud of you for striving to be your best. I am proud of you for braving danger for another's sake. I am proud of you for working together with your friends to overcome tremendous challenges. I am proud of you for keeping your head in a situation that would leave most people panicked. I am proud of you for facing down your parents' killer and doing your best to stop his plans. I am proud of you for refusing to give up in spite of overwhelming odds. I am proud of you for surviving a terrible ordeal."
"You're probably feeling guilty about feeling proud about thwarting Quirrell and Voldemort. You should feel proud of your accomplishment. The means behind that accomplishment weren't pleasant, but they were necessary. It's okay to feel good about winning a fight just as long as that doesn't turn into pride over killing an enemy."
"I know for a fact that you're hurting over feeling like you took a life. That's not just okay, that's good. It means that you're still human, still a good person. As much as I wish that you would never have to feel like this again, I think we both know that someone like Voldemort isn't the type to leave you alone: You're a stain on his supposed invincibility, an embarrassment that he won't be able to ignore, so chances are he'll come after you every chance he gets. We grown-ups will do our best to protect you, but as you've seen that doesn't always work. You'll probably have to fight again, and it's unlikely that all of your enemies will survive. As horrible as it sounds, killing does get easier. On the one hand, that's good in that it means that we don't suffer as badly; on the other hand, it's bad in the cases where killing gets too easy. Every decent person that steps onto the battlefield has to make sure that it always hurts, at least a little, to take a life; when it stops hurting, that's when you can get people like Voldemort."
Harry listened to Iruka's little speech, enthralled but still visibly conflicted. "But... I didn't hesitate at all," he finally replied in a small voice, "I knew what touching me was doing to him and I kept at it. It wasn't just a reflex taking over, or an accident. I saw that it hurt him and I used that to keep hurting him."
"Did you enjoy it?" Iruka's question provoked a look of revulsion and betrayal. "Of course you didn't. You were fighting for your life, and for the lives of others. Even the most gentle of people can get ruthless when they're desperate - it's one of the only ways most people can bring themselves to kill without special conditioning. As much as people fight over things, very, very few can kill in cold blood. Of those that can, some are monsters like Voldemort, but others are still good people; they kill their own heart, enduring the pain of taking a life for the sake of protecting those that are precious to them."
"Remember how I talked about Jiraya-sama? He always said that a ninja is someone that endures: We endure strict training, harsh battles, fear and suspicion from others, the losses of friends and comrades, and the pain of killing our enemies. You're not a ninja, by training or profession, but I think you would have made an amazing one if you'd been born in Konoha. You'll endure this, like you've endured so much in the past, and you'll come away stronger than before. I believe in you, Harry."
The boy before him was clearly fighting to hold back tears. "Thank you, sensei," he finally choked out.
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Student and teacher spent the next hour discussing life, death, and battle. Now that a bit of a wall had been broken down between their experiences, Iruka was able to share things he'd held back previously in some of his tales. Rather than be disturbed or disgusted, Harry was clearly reassured by the fact that someone could go through something like his confrontation with Voldemort (and even a lot more) yet still come through as relatively normal and healthy as his teacher.
With Harry finally on a more even keel, the two moved on to reviewing everyone's actions that night. As he had with Neville and Hermione, the chuunin had his student examine both his own decisions and others' to understand what was done right and what could have been done better. Confronting the fight against Quirrell was hard for Harry, but he definitely seemed a bit lighter afterward; scrutinizing it so clinically took away a bit of its power over him.
The most positive sign came near the end of their review: During a thoughtful pause, Iruka caught a slight sniggering from his student. A raised eyebrow soon prompted an explanation. "I just remembered - over Christmas hols, Fred and George charmed some snowballs to repeatedly pelt Quirrell's turban. Now we know..."
Hogwarts' Hospital Wing rang with laughter.
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A little after lunch, Harry got two more visitors. At first, he seemed to shrink back a bit, as if he was afraid of something. "I'm sorry," he said as soon as they walked over, "you were in so much danger because you went with me, and now you'll be in more danger because you're my friends, and a professor died, and I'll understand if you don't want to be friends with me any more-"
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Healthy set of lungs on that girl... "Neville and I agreed with you that we couldn't rely on the staff to help Iruka-sensei. It was our decision, all three of us, to go ourselves. You're trying to take all the blame as if you somehow forced Neville and me to go with you, but we were just as much a part of that decision as you were! Yes, we were in danger, but so were you! Do you really think we're the kind of people to abandon their friends to danger, then or now? That we're worse than trash? And as far as Prof- as far as Quirrell is concerned, I'm sure you only did what you had to do to save yourself and Iruka-sensei. Him being dead isn't nearly as important to us as you being alive. Honestly! None of us have so many friends that we're willing to lose one of our first and best, so get it through your head, Harry James Potter, that we are not going anywhere."
It was only as she was finally winding down that Hermione noticed Neville and Iruka chuckling at Harry's glazed expression. "What she said, mate," said a smiling Neville. "So, are you okay?"
Harry's face became pensive. "No, I'm not, not right now," he said at last, "but I think I will be."
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Hermione had eventually remembered to pass along a note to Iruka from Headmaster Dumbledore. It asked him to come up to the Headmaster's office at the next convenient opportunity, but stressed that he not rush but rather focus first on his students. So it was that when the chuunin teacher finally left his three students to continue chatting among themselves, he proceeded upstairs to the Headmaster's office.
Once the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, and his guest seated, Professor Dumbledore gave Iruka a knowing smile. "So, Professor, I asked you here because I hoped that we might discuss your background as a child soldier."
Omake:
"I am Lord Voldemort!"
The redheaded boy continued to glare impassively, but a layer of sand pulled away from every stone surface in the room…
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" The strange silver-haired man bound on the floor was apparently distracted by the little orange book lying open in front of him. Where had he gotten that, and why were so many birds chirping this late at night?
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"You," hissed the pale, effeminate man in front-ish of him, "are a pathetic imitation. I'm sure you'll make a fascinating research subject, however…"
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"And I'm Uzimaki Naruto, ya know! I'm gonna kick your ass!"
"Oh? You and what army?"
That was the wrong question to ask...
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"I am unimpressed." The dour black-haired young man in the strange robe stared at him calmly. Suddenly, Lord Voldemort's scarlet eyes met another pair of red eyes, and everything got strange.
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"Who?" The bizarre green-clad man looked at him in confusion, before realization visibly dawned. "That name, you must be..."
"Yes, now you realize just how doomed-"
"...French!" came the triumphant shout.
"What."
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"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"I am way too sober to deal with this crap," groaned the well-endowed blonde.
A/N: Omake based on an idea in a review from Black' Victor Cachat. Feel free to submit your own!
Dumbledore's conversation with Harry is not significantly different from the one in canon, and I didn't want to just quote a big block of text practically verbatim.
Iruka's story about his first kill is completely without canon support, just something I made up.
Fic Recommendation: "Troubling New Developments" by SicTransitGloria – The jounin-sensei discover that the toughest part of the job isn't enemy ninja; it's puberty.
Posted 25 February 2018
Updated 11 March 2018: Added to the Omake
Current WIP Chapter: 52
Updated 1 December 2019: Character-specific dividers