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Boredom

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"That one."

 

If you had asked Harry Potter how he was until just a week ago, he would have told you he was incredibly bored. Not unfulfilled, since he himself would admit he had had his fare share of adventure. Not uamused entirely, because no matter how one saw it, handling a school full of hormonal adolescents with the powers of imprinting their imagination in the very fabric of reality itself was never dull in any moment. 

 

Just.... bored.

 

Well, looking back on it, Harry Potter had had a brilliant life before opening his eyes in a completely foreign place. He had been present for the birth of his descendants- something that said a lot about his age, and thus, his experience, that he didn't even know how far his line had progressed. He would, however, tell anyone who asked that he was far from indulgent in the matter, especially after the passing of one Ginerva Weasley and 'the deception', as he had coined it. Given that he has also lost count of his age somewhere along the line, he wasn't quite aware of the passing of time as he should have been. The last time he'd celebrated his birthday he had been three hundred and ninety four years old, and that was centuries ago.

 

Currently, however, he was anything but bored.

 

Exactly a month ago, he had woken up in this strange land, where men were so well versed with the ambient magical energy that they did not indeed need wands to use to manipulate it. Instead, they used handsigns, or 'handseals' depending in who you asked, to perform limited yet grand feats. While Harry himself was far above such plebian measures to exert his own will upon reality, he could respect the notion that something he considered the barest of requirements was not at all involved in caring high level elemental techniques, illusions, and working with the very body to enhance performance - a wand.

 

But now he was rambling, not that it was something new.

 

After two weeks of supposed 'obligatory imprisonment', during which he simply apperated out and explored the land, he was finally 'let out' legally. He could freely attest to feeling utmost satisfaction (amongst other things... The man did remind him of another well-meaning yet horribly-ending old man) when telling the Hokage that he had yelled the Kazekage's ears off about the proper upbringing of his son (while simultaneously casting a permanent feather light charm on the man's 'gold dust', something he was still amused by) and watching the Hokage's face pale. He admitted he would feel the same if told he had visited every single hidden village and improved life there in exchange for citizenship.... that he had other affiliations already was overlooked because he just helped that much.

 

Of course, his gestures of peace were not all that allowing for lackluster reciprocation after all. Dispelling the permanent mist that seemed to hang about in Kirigakure, conjuring an ever-full lake in Iwagakure, casting lesser perimeter wards in Kumogakure (and hadn't the Raikage felt better about that... for some reason, he feared a retaliation from Konohagakure, although he wouldn't elaborate). Similar feats of simple yet strongly backed kindnesses had helped him become a citizen of every village except the one he was currently in, and another obscure one in Oto no Kuni.

 

Regardless, these feats were nowhere near his current level of extreme anger. 

 

The furniture in the room was levitating and spinning madly, and that was indication enough of anger even if one did not pay attention to the thunderous expression on his face.

 

It wasn't often one found themself in another universe... especially if the original has an uncanny sense of empathy, honed with being a headmaster of a magical school that still had cases of abuse (surprisingly prédominant in the Slytherin house).

 

In the little blond tyke, he had sensed a bit of himself. 

 

"Are- are you sure?" The matron asked, eying the now wide eyed blonde with a large amount of contempt and, somewhere buried deep behind her heart, a bit of regret. "I mean... Ano... he's known to be a bit of a troublemaker, the Uzumaki brat."

 

The furniture promptly turned into snakes with ambient anger, who began hissing before almost immediately curling into gigantic ball to mate..

 

Well..., that was kinda embarrassing...

"Now listen here, the Hokage said he could adopt any two children he took fancy to." The ANBU wearing a kuma mask uttered, sounding a mix of annoyed and angry at the same time. And indeed, who wouldn't be? Konoha'a resident jinchuuriki was garbed in nothing but a tattered the tshirt. But given that the young boy was the the tender age of four, and that the tshirt was probably meant for an adult, he kept tripping in his bid to run away from the scary 'green eyes'. 

 

Harry simply ignored the mayhem that dancing and aggressive ball of snakes had wrought upon the sexually curious older teens and the innocent younger ones in the room (taking great care to ignore a scowling matron whenn a group of the older chikdren vuelws into a very accurate rensition if the snake mating ball and began rubbing each other with each other in a weak attempt to copy) and kneeled down to scoop the young one in his arms, wandlessly and verbally repairing the tshirt and shrinking it as he did, while also automatically conjuring a pair of undergarments and brown shorts, not to mention a pair of sandals.

 

Sometimes Harry loved magic.

 

"Um- er- sir," the boy stammered out, managing to sound overjoyed, angry, and depressed all at the same time "I don't rink you want me. Nobody does around here"

 

Harry barely calmed himself before he smote the whole village into one giant bonfire, but the matron of the orphanage cringed when the furniture in the room simply disintegrated, clearly sensing that if the ambient chakra was turning things to ash, the young man was quite angry..

 

"Oh it's okay, blonde-kun." Harry soothed, holding the boy closer to his nonexistent bossom. "After all, you remind me more of myself than looking in the mirror ever did."

Chapter Text

Harry blinked.

 

And then again, just for good measure.

 

Then he cleared his throat. "Naruto?"

 

"Haï, otou-san?" The cute yet somehow fearful strangled voice replied, and wasn't that somehow appropriate?

 

Harry let his gaze shift from his son to the homage paid to the past Hokages in the form of a monument. "Exactly why have you painted penises on all of the Hokage faces?" He asked, skillfully ignoring the angered shouts thrown in his general direction. After all, years of practice had dulled him to the notion. Being continously blamed for the world's problems while simultaneously being lauded as a hero does that to someone. He absently flicked a scourgify to clean up the messy, yet anatomically correct artwork. He only briefly entertained the notion of exactly how Naruto managed to paint something so thoroughly while out in the open in a am startling orange t-shirt and white shorts, but chalked it up to accidental magic. After all, he had blood adopted the little tyke, causing the startling blond hair to dull into a brownish-black hue and his eyes to turn sea-green. Thankfully, the messiness of his hair could also be attributed to his father; the fourth. 

 

Obviously, being someone who looks for every minor detail, he hadn't missed the resemblance. 

 

"Because I'm going to surpass all of them! I will be the greatest Hokage ever!" Naruto proclaimed. 

 

Harry sighed. Why couldn't the younger have inherited the sense of calm that the older bore?

 

"Alright. Nevertheless, we should move on to the next question."

 

"Yes."

 

"Who is the boy standing next to you?"

 

And indeed, the boy standing next to his son was almost a carbon copy of the Uchiha who had been stalking him, presumably on the Hokage's orders (he hoped); except for the cheek lines, which were absent. And a much shortened hair. 

 

"My onii-San will make me a better hokage than Naruto baka!"

 

"Sasuke-teme-!"

 

Naruto could not say more, for he was gagging on the taste of soap in his mouth.

 

"Now now, Naruto." Harry glowered, right hand still poised in the snapping stance. "Who taught you that word?"

 

Naruto could not answer for he was staring despondently towards the sky, wordlessly screaming.

 

Harry turned his stare towards Sasuke, who was the color of a tomato and resolutely not looking at Harry.

 

"Sasuke-kun," Harry continued in the same tone of voice, "are you the one who informed Naruto of this... plebeian vocabulary?"

 

Sasuke shuffled his feet cutely (but Harry couldn't squeal since he was pretending to be mad... and having fun) n's looked away.

 

Harry sighed, and snapped again so that Naruto's mouth was now soap free. "Very well. Follow me, the two of you."

 

**Several hours later**

 

It achieve looked up from his casual pokerface brooding to see his brother walk gracefully through the front door. His brother then gracefully sat at the dining table to be served, while gracefully tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt and gracefully picking up his cutlery - a pair of chopsticks.

 

His parents were wide eyed.

 

"Sa- Sasuke?" His mother whispered, tears in her eyes.

 

"Haï, okaa-san?" Sasuke answered gracefully, gracefully lifting his head to gaze at his parents. 

 

Itachi was so proud he could not gold it in. "You finally mastered the Uchiha Poker Face!"

 

"You finally learned to walk like the son of the Uchiha head should!" His father uncharacteristically gushed.

 

"And didn't slouch! Or brood like Itachi!" His mother gushed, causing Itachi to turn a Poker Face on her.

 

"Okaa-san, I do not brood."

 

"Sasuke... how? How did this happen ?!"

 

Suddenly Sasuke dropped his pair of chopsticks and adopted a mask of horror. "I have seen things."