[FLASHBACK]

Black hair tied behind a forehead protector gleamed under the setting sun. The insignia engraved upon the metal denoted his allegiance. Onyx eyes surveyed the area from his vantage point.

He sighed.

It was all for naught.

For all of his considerable skill, the years of dedicated training, the paramountcy of his Sharingan it all meant nothing against the tireless might of Iwa's war machine.

His hand clenched, nails digging into his palm.

It was

infuriating.

As Konoha's Uchiha clan head he was one of the swords and shields tasked with assuring the village's dominance.

So, when war was announced, he jumped at the chance. Anything to leave the confinement of Konoha's walls. The thought of staying when his people were so blatantly segregated and put down irked him. Madara's words all those years ago had finally brought fruit.

Fugaku closed his eyes, it was bad enough that every time he looked into the mirror, he saw the same onyx eyes matched with his clansmen. Eyes that would never see the light of day again.

He commanded the forward legion, the tip of the spear that was to break their enemy's lines. The most competent Uchiha operators placed under his command to lead the offensive that would turn the tide of the war in their favour.

Danzō had also been adamant, to include ROOT in the affairs of the Uchiha: his men were the best. The best trained, the most well equipped. They followed orders without hesitation. They did not know fear. They did not know pain. They did not know death.

At least not until their worthless lives are snuffed out, he thought with vitriol, striding through the camp.

Iwa's strategy was clear: throw enough semi-competent bodies at a problem, and the problem would probably go away. His offensive – if it could even be called such – had been halted less than two days into Grass Country.

His strategies meant little when there were two fresh bodies leaping to take the place of the one that had just been cut down. It was nothing but a numbers game. Iwa had more, Konoha had less. There was no nuance, and that vexed him to end.

For all his training and his jutsu, for all his genius, he could not outsmart this problem. He had been outsmarted on the battlefield before, and it hurt, but it could be borne. He was not the greatest shinobi in the land. He could hold his own against the common ninja employed by Iwa, but to be beaten back by sheer bullheadedness was unconscionable.

He had nearly taken the field himself in a fit of pique, wishing nothing more than to slaughter the zealots Iwa threw against him to a man. Only his rationality had held him back; given enough numbers and even he could be overrun. It had happened to shinobi greater than he, and while Iwa's death squads were no Kinkaku Force, it was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Izanagi wasn't ready yet.

Making matters worse was the news from the eastern front. One of Iwa's jinchuuriki had abandoned the fight and was making his way towards Grass Country. Jiraiya had beaten back Kumo's latest push personally – aided as it was by Iwa's monsters – but had sustained heavy losses and was falling back into Fire Country for reinforcements.

Which boded ill for him. Iwa's legion had been dealing him steady losses over the two months since he'd launched the offensive through Grass Country; contending with a jinchuuriki would push the already unfavourable situation over the edge of being untenable.

He crested the ridge that overlooked the war zone that had been carved out of the forest. Downed trees had been turned to sawdust in the routine clashes, discarded branches and debris from doton jutsu littering the currently deserted battleground. Subtlety had been thrown to the wind once Iwa's legion had beaten back his first strike and, amid mounting casualties, he had used katon ninjutsu liberally to cut a swath through the foliage. The great flames generated by his kinsmen had pushed forward at his command, but even their greatest element too had been halted after a time.

It had likely saved the battalion from utter obliteration in those first days, however, as Iwa's retaliatory strikes had come fast and brutally. An uneasy stalemate had persisted for the better part of the last two months, each of his subtle incursions rebuffed by overwhelming manpower, and each of Iwa's fended off with mounting desperation.

He sneered, looking down upon the ruination, knowing, as he had for nearly two months, that this battle was lost. The early stirrings of distress gnawed at his mind. He cared little for his home village outside a very select few, but its destruction was not something he had adequately planned for. For all its irritations, Konoha had resources that he hadn't had the time to amass for himself. Resources that he needed for the perseveration of the clan.

All plans are amended, he consoled himself, carefully schooling his expression as he felt one of Danzō's men approach.

He turned, and the young-looking man snapped a quick salute. "Fugaku-sama," he intoned without inflection, much like the rest of his soldiers. "Konoha shinobi have entered camp. They requested your presence."

Fugaku nodded once, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand, his hackles rising. He had requested reinforcements from Konoha a week ago – he had but five full platoons left, one hundred men – and his pride still hurt at the request's necessity. It would hurt more if this battle was lost entirely, however, and he mastered himself as he strode purposefully back into the encampment.

Onyx eyes took in the tents without truly seeing them as he made his way back to his command centre. He threw the flap back without ceremony, only to be greeted by the sight of Kagami's son, and his heir.

His eyes narrowed as he took in Uchiha Shisui's appearance, mind flitting briefly to his disgraced – and now deceased – sensei. Brief fury flashed through him; Hatake Sakumo had gotten all of them into this mess.

"Yes?" he hissed, eyes settling on his son's young frame. The boy was barely six, and the dark green vest that marked him a chuunin was too pristine to have seen much combat.

"Fugaku-sama," the teen demurred, stepping forward. "You requested reinforcements. We are here to turn back Iwa's tide and help you push forward toward Earth Country."

The clan head blinked, his eyebrows inching toward his hairline. He could feel no other chakra presences nearby that weren't the men already under his command. Only these two were new. "Surely you must be joking…"

A brief bit of amusement passed through Shisui's eyes before it was quelled, replaced instead by a calm that seemed almost melancholy. "I'm afraid not," he said, and his son placed a soft hand upon his arm, as if in support.

Onyx eyes glanced back and forth between the two, finally settling on the last son of Kagami Uchiha. He was one of a few who knew what the boy contained.

Today is just full of surprises, he mused. Konoha's situation was dire indeed if Sarutobi was deploying a Mangekyō user. He had steadfastly refused all suggestions of doing so before, despite the urging of the elders. Danzō in particular.

"I see," the clan head said, mind already awhirl at how to best utilize the new weapon at his disposal. The Mangekyō's power could open up many avenues to breaking Iwa's line. "What preparations do you require?"

"The preparations are complete," Shisui said. He gestured to the flap of the command tent, and Fugaku led them outside. "Can you take us to the front?"

The clan head said nothing, electing to stride back in the direction from which he had come, the young pair easily keeping pace with him. The trio crested the ridge he had stood upon minutes before, looking down at the neutral zone.

"Iwa's forces are just beyond the tree line," he told the two. "They respond in force to anyone they detect, mobilizing with overwhelming numbers no matter the size of the threat."

Itachi nodded absently. "That's good. Our intelligence indicates that they have a force between three and five hundred holding this line, with another garrison ten miles north, providing support. We have to force the garrison into a retreat before Han arrives."

Fugaku nodded at the mention of the Gobi jinchuuriki's approach, the boy's intelligence matching his own. "My men are ready to move at my command. They will flood the forest once Iwa's front line is broken. With your frontal assault occupying the garrison, we can flank from the east and rout them."

"Your men will… not be necessary," Shisui said. "Instruct them to move once the initial fighting has been pushed past the tree line, but there's no need to expose ourselves to more casualties now. They'll be necessary to maintain the push deeper into Grass once Shisui and I leave."

Fugaku stared at the boy, askance. There wasn't much that surprised him anymore, but it seemed his son had learned more than jutsu from the academy.

Is the Mangekyō's power so great? he wondered. He had never fought a Mangekyō user personally but knew well that they could turn the fortunes of a battle with their sheer presence. They were aberrations, utterly outside the rules of normal shinobi. The clan scrolls had said as much.

Shisui held out a scroll that was sealed with Sarutobi's personal seal. The clan head took it but didn't open it. Its presence alone meant that the Hokage had signed off on this bewildering operation – Fugaku wouldn't place his son in such a situation without the Sandaime's express order.

"As you say," Fugaku said quietly. If his son was hurt on the warfront, Mikoto would make him feel the brunt of her anger.

Shisui sighed, eyes fluttering shut. Itachi stepped in front of him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"You know I'll be there." He told the curly haired teen.

Shisui opened his eyes and favoured the shorter boy in front of him with a slight smile. "I know, Itachi. Thank you." Itachi said nothing but nodded.

Fugaku looked on with dispassion, quelling his momentary impatience at having to wait to see the Mangekyō's power. He was in no rush however. Whilst he may have had no need for such affection, it may well be the last time the two would see each other again. The odds were great even for a Mangekyō user.

Shisui gave Itachi a soft smile, it seemed to be frozen for a long moment before it disappeared back to signature Uchiha aloofness, Shisui flicked Itachi with his index and middle finger before turning away.

"I'll be right behind you," Itachi told his back. And Fugaku felt his eyes narrow. Shisui nodded once and leapt off the ridge into the neutral zone without a word.

What? Fugaku thought, utterly baffled.

"Once Shisui advances, I'll head down to pick off anyone he left behind. The Hokage says we can't afford to take prisoners," Itachi said, distaste colouring his voice. "Send your men in once I make it to the trees."

"Wait," Fugaku said, confusion overwhelming him. "Shisui is engaging them on his own?" he asked, askance, even as red clothed bodies rushed onto the battlefield.

"He'll be fine," Itachi said, calm despite the ludicrousness that was unfolding.

Against two garrisons? The clan head knew his mouth was agape but couldn't muster the fortitude to close it. He circulated his chakra, ready to leap to the boy's defence before he was overrun – he held no affection for Shisui, but the boy was undeniably talented. His death would be yet another reprehensible waste in this war, never mind Kagami's reaction when he found out his only son died under his watch.

He turned to the battlefield, only to still as Itachi laid a hand on his left arm. "You'll only get in his way," he told him, onyx eyes similar to his own staring at him without a hint of jest.

Kagami narrowed his own at him, surveying him for a moment before he ripped his arm out of his grip. "If you wish so badly to see your friend slaughtered, I won't stop you," he hissed. "But I'll let you explain to the boy's father just how his son died."

Musical laughter that somehow managed to convey nothing but condescending derision met his proclamation. He felt his hackles rise and stifled the urge to strike the impudent boy as he said, "You'll see. You'll all see."

He turned his eyes to the battlefield to see no less than three full platoons rushing to meet Shisui. The black-haired teen strode toward them purposefully and withdrew a tanto from its sheath on his back. The sword began to pulsate and before their very eyes took on a red hue, but Fugaku knew it wouldn't be nearly enough.

"Blink and you'll miss it," his son quipped snidely from beside him, and the clan head of the Uchiha heeded him warily as Shisui disappeared without fanfare.

What speed…

Before he had the time to think anything else, his eyes managed to catch a brief glimpse of red flames dancing along the serrated edges of a tanto before an Iwa nin crumpled soundlessly to the ground. He was followed by another. And another. And another, the only herald of their death a flash of light bouncing off the tanto's metal that disappeared just as suddenly as it came.

A full platoon was dead by the time Fugaku had blinked twice. A shout had gone up from one of the remaining Iwa shinobi for backup, but another platoon had been cut down by the time more men had burst from the tree line.

There were no screams as the third platoon met their deaths, Shisui apparently moving too fast even for panicked cries to manifest.

"How on earth…" the clan head breathed, even as the black-haired teen paused to survey the dead before plucking two of his kunai from his pouch, bolstering them with Fūton chakra and then proceeded to hurl them at the oncoming enemies, before disappearing once more.

"Shunshin no Jutsu, with Mangekyō illusionary," Itachi said as a dozen more men fell like puppets with their strings cut. Shouts of alarm were beginning to sound, the Iwa shinobi unsure of what exactly was befalling them. They began to stand back to back or in groups of four, but they fell just as quickly as they moved, utterly powerless against the young Uchiha's incomprehensible speed. "It's his masterpiece."

"No mere Shunshin could do what he's doing."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw his son's lips quirk up. "His can."

The Iwa shinobi had taken less than a minute to lose over a hundred men and had stopped advancing toward the blur that was Uchiha Shisui, instead turning tail and fleeing into the cover of the trees. Fugaku couldn't tell how many made it into the forest, his mind solely occupied with processing just what was happening before his very eyes.

This was unprecedented. He knew power. He had seen it. He had fought it. He possessed it. There were dozens of jutsu that could level battlefields and claim dozens of lives at a time.

But this?

Iwa's force was comprised mostly of elite chuunin, with tokubetsu jonin interspersed throughout to command platoons. They were seasoned, battle hardened, and had rebuffed Konoha's advances with aplomb for two months.

And they didn't have time to react to what was befalling them. The last of the visible shinobi had dispersed into a discombobulated retreat at the sight of their slaughtered comrades. Shisui followed them into the trees without hesitation, and the sounds of panic echoed eerily from the forest across the now empty battlefield.

"We've got a minute before the rest of the garrison is dead. Maybe two," Itachi declared, startling Fugaku from his stupor. The boy hopped down from the ridge and began walking deliberately across the corpse strewn field. The Uchiha head followed him a moment later, eyes wide and a disturbing tingling raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

He felt his heartbeat pick up as he matched Itachi's stride for stride, passing the first bodies. The boy paid them no heed, but Fugaku's sharp eyes flittered from corpse to corpse, taking in the precise slashes and incisions that marked each. Some had their jugulars sliced neatly open, blood pooling around their heads as they rested in death. Others had a single stab at the base of their neck, their cervical vertebrae severed. The stench of death assaulted his nostrils, released bowels filling the air with the scent of sewage.

Itachi carelessly flipped the body of an Iwa-nin over. The man's eyes were wide, panicked, and frozen in death, and Fugaku withheld a shudder.

Even amongst the Uchiha, his son was a prodigy that eclipsed those double, even treble his age. But what he'd seen here…

He used his foot to turn yet another corpse over and was greeted by the sight of a snarl forever etched on a woman's face. She hadn't had time to process her life ending before it was snuffed out. He couldn't stop the shudder the wracked his body at the sight.

Fugaku felt beads of sweat begin to pool at the base of his neck and he realized, as if from a great distance, that he was terrified. The emotion was so foreign that he stopped in his tracks, staring down at one of the leftover bodies. At this distance, he could see that it had three deep cuts which was peculiar because Shisui didn't need to cut more than once.

"After image…"

"Shisui's mark," he heard Itachi call; he had advanced ten meters ahead of him, frozen as he was. "You coming?" he asked rhetorically, turning and walking toward the now silent forest. "He didn't leave any of them alive."

The clan head mastered himself with a thought, appalled at his own weakness, but powerless to stop the rapid beating of his heart.

What a terrifying nin/genjutsu…

The duo reached the trees a few moments later, and were greeted, unsurprisingly, by even more corpses. The Iwa encampment, which Fugaku had barely glimpsed on the first day of combat, was a ghost town. Weapons were strewn across the ground, discarded in death before they had had the time to be used. Dozens of corpses were face down on the forest floor, clearly cut down as they tried to run.

Itachi made his way over to a large tent that was clearly the command centre and slipped in. Fugaku followed, and was greeted by the sight of a burly, flat nosed man dressed in Iwa fatigues bound and shaking. The very much alive man – a jonin – whimpered at the sight of the two Konoha shinobi, and the Uchiha clan leader quickly schooled his features into the appropriate visage of aloofness.

He would show no weakness here, despite the sweat beading on his neck. "Kitsuchi," he hissed at the man who commanded Iwa's forward legions. "We seem to have you at a disadvantage, old friend."

Beady black eyes stared right through him without seeing him, and the goateed man just shook his head.

"It's done," Shisui's voice spoke from beside Itachi, and Fugaku nearly jumped, Sharingan eyes flying to the black-haired teen. He hadn't felt a thing; no surge of chakra indicative of the body flicker. Nothing at all. One moment he wasn't there, the next he was. Without warning.

Two garrisons…slaughtered by one man. In minutes. The Uchiha clan head tore his eyes away from the young jonin with effort, refocusing on the bound commander in front of them.

"You appear to have missed one," he quipped, managing to keep his voice level through sheer force of will.

Shisui nodded to Itachi a lifetime of conversation being spoken through each other's eyes. The black-haired teen stepped forward and behind the terrified man, a single motion freeing him. Shisui stepped in front of the Iwa-nin once more, staring down at him. The jonin managed to muster up what looked like righteous fury in his eyes for the man who had singlehandedly massacred his entire force. It was tempered by the utter horror just beneath the surface that was visible to everyone in the room.

"You're free to go," Shisui told the jonin who had gingerly climbed to his feet.

"You killed them," Kitsuchi managed to croak.

"I did. You should report back to your father."

"You killed all of them," the Iwa jonin repeated, taking a step back.

Fugaku felt the slightest of smirks break through the haze of the last few minutes. "I believe you broke him, Shisui-kun."

The clan head's words seemed to break the Iwa commander from his shock, black eyes finding Fugaku before widening and moving back to Shisui. He took another step back, clearly processing his situation, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Shisui sighed, and Itachi rested his hand once more on his shoulder, conveying words in whispers. The black-haired teen nodded after a second of contemplation and turned to face Fugaku. The Uchiha, through every ounce of willpower he possessed, held his ground without a flinch.

"Our work here is done, Fugaku-sama. Your men will be able to move into Grass unimpeded. Iwa has men stationed twenty miles from the northern border, and the Hokage believes you'll be able to deal with them," the teen said robotically.

Fugaku nodded absently, surveying the boy. His sharingan could notice no signs of fatigue about him, and his chakra levels were hardly lower than when he had appeared in his camp – less than ten minutes previous. The only sign of strain was the slightest tightening around the boy's eyes. Eyes which reflected a kaleidoscope in their depths rather than tomoe.

"Where will you go?" he asked the duo.

"The eastern front," Shisui answered. "Jiraiya-sama is having some trouble with Kiri and Kumo and we're to even the playing field a bit for him."

Fugaku nodded absently, eyes drifting to his son. Who seemed to emit sombreness, hand still gripping onto Shisui's shoulder, the duo oddly subdued given the great victory they had created. He, himself, wasn't one for celebration, but most of his comrades were.

"Give Jiraiya my regards," he told them.

Leave, he commanded silently.

The duo was gone before he had time to blink, no sound or smoke to signal their departure.

No sound. No chakra surge. No warning.

When his lieutenant found him in the tent some minutes later, he was still lost in thought.

Dwelling on the rotating curves surrounded behind a sea of red.

[FLASHBACK END.]

Harry awoke with a start, sweat clinging to his body like a second skin. The whites in his eyes became more prominent as the sheets in which he'd slept in had seemingly found themselves coiled around him.

He hadn't dreamt of his past in a long time, especially not of Shisui.

The amount of death he'd seen all those years ago on that battlefield had cemented his pacifism for life. Nothing changed a man faster than killing.

He had learnt that lesson from his best friend.

Learnt and was taught it.

How much blood was on his hands?

How much blood was going to be on his hands?

He placed his head back on his pillow and glanced skywards. He'd shown his opening salvo to the wizarding world.

He was not Harry Potter – their boy saviour and someone to subjugate.

He was Uchiha Itachi – proactive, in control and took no shit from anyone.

The Slytherin's he'd sent to the hospital wing would attest to this.

The darkness of his room brought a silent calm that nothing except his own breathing could penetrate. Or the thrum of his eyes radiating with red and black tomoe.

***Break***

"Hmmm," calloused hands, lean and strong, cupped a meditative chin. A beard, neatly trimmed, rasped against his skin, making a scratching noise to the keen listener.

"Fascinating."

Nicholas Flamel studied reams of parchment, each gliding before his eyes. To the untrained eye, it would have appeared as a blur of black and near-yellow; sharp-eyed individuals could spot irregularities where diagrams interrupted the text flow. A gifted Seeker might even see points where new segments began, the lighter columns vanishing as longer streams of text filled the area above his desk. But only a man whom understood the subtle nuances of the Arcane would truly see, read, and above all, understand the pages moving like a lightning that rustled.

"Oh Wulfric. What have you done."

"What's fascinating?"

Turning, Nicholas ignored how the line of text stopped as soon as his attention wavered. A single delay could mean hours of searching for the original stopping point, time that he held in abundance, but did not wish to spend.

"A three headed dog, a devil snare plant, enchanted keys, chess set, troll, and potion logic test is all Wulfric's using to guard the stone."

Some might have called him foolish for giving the key to his immortality away, none more so than his own wife. But the philosophers stone left traces of magic, so much so that it couldn't be falsified.

If the Dark Lord was to be caught, he'd have to be fooled by the real deal.

He didn't expect Wulfric to gift wrap his stone to him so blatantly, and protect with weak defences a first year could bypass given the necessary tools.

"Perenelle dear, pack your bags. We're going to Hogwarts."

AN:

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Till next time.