The air was cool up high, but Harry barely noticed it. His attention was tuned entirely to the bubbling laughter ringing behind him.
"Maashah—watch out! You're going to hit that bird!"
Shikamaru's voice was somewhere between delighted panic and an exasperated squeak. Teddy, secured in his crib and sitting up, let out a shriek of wild laughter as Harry banked hard left, narrowly avoiding a swooping falcon.
"I see it!" Harry laughed, adjusting their course. The magical carpet swayed under his guidance, weaving and dipping like a sleek serpent over the sprawling countryside of Earth Country.
Truth be told, Harry didn't love the carpet. Not in the way he adored flying with Nox, or even the old thrill of a Firebolt. The carpet was… utilitarian. Functional. Not as thrilling or as instinctive. It obeyed more like a sluggish canoe than a swift broom.
But it was sturdy, it could carry all three of them and more without any fuss, and—most importantly—it was subtle. They needed subtle now. It didn't hurt that the enchantments on the carpet won't let any of them fall, just bouncing them back to the centre of the carpet, something that Shikamaru tested. Many times. Giving Harry a mini heart attack each time.
They'd already crossed into Earth Country, his veil hiding them from unnecessary eyes, and Harry had spotted the towering wall of the capital an hour earlier. They'd land well outside it, hiking the rest of the way in.
Harry cast a glance over his shoulder.
Shikamaru had his arms tight around Teddy now, laughing between short bursts of scolding every time the baby tried to lean over the edge of the carpet. The boy was flushed, hair wind-whipped, but beaming.
This, Harry thought, was freedom.
They landed in a grassy knoll overlooking a small river, several miles east of the Earth Capital. Once the carpet was folded, shrunk, and stashed into Harry's enchanted pocket, they began their hike.
It was slow going—but peaceful.
At least, it was for a while.
Teddy had taken to walking like a fish to water.
Unfortunately, he was a wolf cub of a fish. He ran ahead, cooing and barking excitedly at every flower, leaf, bird, or noise. The tiny boy was relentless. His short legs carried him astonishingly far, and it became a game of chase for Shikamaru and Harry to keep up.
"Teddy!" Harry called again as the toddler darted after a squirrel. "Come back here—you don't even like squirrels!"
The child giggled and ignored him, splashing into a puddle instead.
Harry groaned and picked up the pace.
Yanking Teddy out the puddle and kneeling down to cast a cleaning charm.
Shikamaru sighed dramatically kneeling beside him. "This kid is going to be the death of me," he muttered.
"You?" Harry puffed. "I'm the one raising him!"
Shikamaru groaned. "I was hoping for a nap today."
Teddy suddenly turned on his heel and toddled straight at Shikamaru, shrieking something incomprehensible before leaping at him.
"Wha—oi! No—stop that—!"
"SHIKA! SHIKA!"
The baby tackled Shikamaru's face with sloppy, wet kisses. Shikamaru made a sound of mock betrayal and fell backward into the grass, arms flailing. "Why is he like this!?"
Harry chuckled, slowing down to lean against a tree to catch his breath. "Because you're his big brother. He's obsessed with you."
"Yeah, well, he's sticky," Shikamaru grumbled, but there was no venom to the words.
Harry watched as the boy adjusted Teddy onto his lap and retaliated with tickles. The sound of their laughter echoed through the hills. Harry walked over and dropped beside them in the grass, pulling both of them into a tight hug.
~
They reached the Earth Capital by early evening.
The massive walls loomed like a dark crown on the horizon, the gates carved into natural stone and flanked by guards in tan and green.
Harry handed over their forged documents and the guards studied them suspiciously.
"A healer, huh?" one asked.
Harry nodded. "Travelling. These are my sons."
The guard looked at him. Then at Shikamaru. Then back at him.
"Young to have a kid that old," he muttered.
"Adopted," Harry said with a smile that dared them to challenge him.
Shikamaru—"Maru" now—grinned too, adding in slow, careful Japanese and pointing to Teddy, "We're brothers now. Papa is the best!"
The guards blinked, then waved them through.
He was such a good actor, thought Harry as he shared a smirk with Shikamaru.
Once inside, Harry's gaze flicked across the district. Compared to Fire Country's ornate buildings, Earth was sturdy and squat. Clay and stone structures clustered closely together, with tiled roofs and shops dug partially into the ground for insulation. It was bustling.
And strange.
Because while one row of buildings looked like they belonged in a medieval village—herbalists, blacksmiths, fabric vendors—the next street over had neon signs and what Harry was pretty sure was a convenience store. He also caught sight of a satellite dish on a tower above.
"Is that… is that a freezer?" he muttered, peering through the window of a store filled with canned drinks and what looked like potato chips.
"Yup," Shikamaru said. "Taki had a few too. Some villages are more advanced than others. Depends on trade."
Harry blinked.
"I feel like I'm seeing the inside of a wizard-muggle hybrid."
Shikamaru giggled. "It's just how it is."
They spent the afternoon wandering the market district.
Then Shikamaru tugged on his sleeve. "Maasha— Papa… can we try the rice cake?"
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the shy request. "The…?"
Maru nodded quickly. "My dad said Earth Country had the best rice cake in the whole world."
Harry's heart squeezed at the hesitant look in his Shikamaru's eyes. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything."
They found a small stall at the edge of a park and the vendor handed them three skewers of warm mochi on sticks, wrapped in thick syrup and sprinkled with roasted soy flour.
Harry took a bite.
"Oh," he groaned.
Shikamaru's eyes were wide. "Oh."
Teddy drooled while he gnawed at the sweet syrup.
The three of them sat on the stone bench, moaning through every sticky, sweet bite.
"Remind me to get this recipe," Harry said, licking syrup from his thumb.
"Remind me to eat five more," Shikamaru mumbled through his last bite.
"Remind me to make this at home," Harry added.
"I live here now," Shikamaru mumbled sleepily.
They found an inn tucked between a laundry house and a bookshop. The rooms were small but cosy, with woven mats and thick quilts. Harry cast a privacy ward and collapsed onto the bedding with a groan.
Teddy was already curled up in Shikamaru's arms, half-asleep, babbling nonsense.
"You tired?" Harry asked.
Shikamaru nodded.
"Ready to call it a night?"
Shikamaru nodded again.
But just before Harry could tuck them in, Shikamaru peeked up. "Tomorrow… we keep looking, right? For Tsunade?"
Harry smiled. "Of course."
~
They stayed three more days.
Harry took them on small excursions—through the outer forests, through the shrine-dotted hills, through an underground mineral cavern famous for glowing moss. Every day, Shikamaru practiced both his chakra control and writing skills. And every day, Harry could feel the magical core beginning to settle fully in his adopted son.
He wondered if Shikamaru had inherited more than just parseltongue from the blood ritual. Elemental affinity? Wandless magic? Metamorphmagus tendencies? There were too many unknowns.
He'd need to run an inheritance test, but that can wait until he's older.
On their fourth day in the city, Harry sat on a bench in the market square, watching Shikamaru barter for herbs at a vendor's stall. The boy was picking it up fast, had a knack for talking around people and making them look stupid.
He didn't notice the whispers at first.
But they came in fragments.
"Dragon Lord… Maashah-sama…"
"Strange chakra… wasn't from the Leaf…"
"…black hair, green eyes…"
Harry's shoulders tensed. People were talking. Not just in passing.
They were talking about him.
He stood and walked over to Shikamaru, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Maru… can we talk?"
Shikamaru blinked up at him. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Harry said softly. "We've been doing it anyway in front of others, but for now… carry on calling me Papa in public."
Shikamaru looked heartbroken. "But you're my Maashah."
Harry smiled and touched his forehead. "And I always will be. But we can keep it safe between us, yeah?"
Shikamaru nodded reluctantly. "Okay… Papa."
~
That night, as they sat in their inn room under warm quilts, Harry gently ran his fingers through Shikamaru's hair. "You did good today."
Shikamaru yawned. "Even when I used my chakra wrong?"
Harry chuckled. "You flung a potato across the room. I wouldn't say that's wrong."
Shikamaru grinned. "You screamed."
"It hit me in the nose."
They both laughed.
Then, quiet again.
Harry glanced at the sleeping Teddy beside them and whispered, "We'll find her, you know."
"Tsunade?"
Harry nodded. "And Tenzo. I think maybe they can become a part of our family. If they are—"
"We'll be a clan," Shikamaru said quietly. "A real one."
"We already are."
Shikamaru snuggled closer. "Can we get more rice cake tomorrow? I can't stop thinking about it."
Harry smiled. "Me too."
~
The scent of sizzling noodles and roasted yakitori lingered in the air as Harry dipped a piece of pork bun into sauce, grinning when Teddy squealed with delight and tried to steal it from his plate. Shikamaru was mid-chew, both hands full with skewers and eyes darting between dishes like he couldn't decide what to inhale next. The table was cluttered with bowls and plates, the aftermath of a hearty shared meal. It was nearing their final day in the Earth Country capital, and they'd indulged, a small celebration of sorts before moving on.
It was perfect—until the guard showed up.
The armoured man approached their table with purpose, his eyes sharp beneath his headband. "Healer," he said brusquely, addressing Harry. "The Daimyo has issued an order. All healers are to be escorted to the palace. His son is gravely ill."
Harry froze. His first instinct, honed over a lifetime of being targeted and hunted, was to grab the boys and Apparate. His fingers twitched toward Teddy's chubby arms, toward Shikamaru's shoulder.
But he didn't move. He couldn't—not with two young children. He remembered the baby books he read when he first got Teddy. About how apparition in children could cause splinching or disorientation. He hadn't known better when he fled with Teddy from the Tonks' house—but he regretted it deeply afterward. He wasn't going to risk it again.
Still, his temper flared when the guard reached to pull at his arm. Harry wrenched himself away, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Don't touch me," he said coldly. "And show some respect. If you want my help, my sons come with me. Or none of us go."
The man's mouth tightened in annoyance, but before he could speak again, another figure stepped forward—leaner, quieter. A shinobi, Harry thought. He moved with grace and quiet confidence, his headband worn around his arm instead of his forehead.
"I will escort them," the shinobi said, giving the other man a meaningful glare. "They will be safe."
Harry appraised him with a calm nod. "Fine. Lead the way."
As they walked through the streets toward the palace, Shikamaru clutched his hand close while Teddy dozed in his sling. Harry stayed on high alert.
"What exactly is wrong with the prince?" he asked the shinobi.
The man hesitated. "Poison," he finally answered. "We believe it was an assassination attempt."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "There seems to be a lot of those going around the nations lately," he muttered, thinking back to the multiple attempts on Shinji's life.
By the time they reached the palace, the guards had thickened around them like a noose. The walls loomed tall and imposing, sunlight glinting off golden tiles.
The prince's room was a flurry of chaos—healers of all kinds arguing loudly, papers flying, herbs being tossed around. A boy around Harry's own age lay on the central bed, drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged and wet.
Harry immediately crossed to a corner with the boys and set Teddy and Shikamaru down, kneeling to whisper into Shika's ear. "Remember the portkey?" he murmured.
Shikamaru nodded solemnly, hand tightening on the small bracelet hidden on his wrist. "Yes, Maashah." He whispered, the situation making him slip.
With that settled, Harry turned toward the sick prince and pushed his magic into diagnosis spell, tracing along the boy's skin with a glowing hand. He conjured a scroll, quickly sketching out the symptoms as he whispered the internal readings aloud.
"It's a poison," he muttered. "Blackroot. Eating through his organs slowly… fluid in the lungs too. First, we deal with the poison. Then the lungs."
One of the shinobi nearby startled. "That… that sounds like the Blackroot Toxin. But that's incurable"
"Incurable?" Harry asked.
The other healers scoffed.
"How dare a commoner presume to diagnose the prince!"
"Delusional nonsense!"
Harry gave the shinobi a long look. "Please escort them out. I can't think with them squawking like pigeons."
The man nodded and began ushering the others away, despite their protests. When the door closed behind them, the room grew quieter—only the prince's laboured breathing remained.
From his satchel, Harry pulled out a polished wooden box that clicked open to reveal his potions kit. The bag had been expanded by magic, but in a world where shinobi used sealing scrolls, no one even raised an eyebrow.
He pulled out a bezoar first—blessedly universal—and forced it down the boy's throat. Then he followed it with a murky blue potion, holding the prince's jaw gently to ensure he swallowed.
The prince twitched and gasped violently. A moment later, colour started to return to his cheeks. Encouraged, Harry gently laid both hands over the boy's chest and summoned his magic. He could feel the fluid sloshing inside, drowning him from within.
"Hold him down," Harry ordered softly.
The guards obeyed, pinning the prince carefully as Harry closed his eyes and called to the water—willed it to separate, to rise. He guided it up through the prince's throat and out of his mouth, into a conjured basin nearby. The water was blackened and foul, and it smelled of decay.
When it was done, the prince lay there panting—alive.
Harry sat back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow.
"He's been poisoned more than once in the last year," he said quietly. "The toxins interacted with each other. That's probably what slowed this one down."
The shinobi looked at him with wide eyes. "You… saved him."
Harry nodded but said nothing more.
"Are you a med-nin?"
"No. I'm not a ninja," Harry said evenly. "I don't belong to any village. I'm a travelling healer. I help those in need. No discrimination. No allegiance." Sticking with the cover story.
The man frowned. "What did you give him?"
Harry shrugged. "A bezoar. You find them in the stomach of a goat, under the right conditions. And a neutralizer potion that belongs to my family. I'm not able to share the recipe," he added, forestalling the next question.
"Ah…" the shinobi murmured, understanding dawning.
A high-pitched squeal from the corner made Harry turn just in time to see Teddy trying to launch himself across the floor.
"Maas—!" Looking over, he could see Shikamaru trying to cover the baby's mouth.
"I'm coming," Harry said with a small laugh, striding over. Shikamaru looked calm but tired, the baby squirming in his lap.
"Sorry," Harry said. "Were you bored?"
"I liked watching you heal," Shikamaru said simply. "But Teddy needs a change."
"Right."
A short walk later, a palace servant showed him to a bathing room with a private antechamber. As Harry changed Teddy's nappy and cast cleaning charms, Shikamaru leaned against the wall, voice quiet.
"I noticed something," he said. "Some of the guards. They were watching you really closely. Like… signing to each other."
Harry glanced up, his expression darkening. "Yeah. I noticed too."
And he was right to worry.
When they exited the bathroom and into the antechamber, a new guard was waiting. The shinobi from earlier stood behind him, looking uncomfortable.
"The Daimyo is pleased," the guard announced. "You healed his son. He is offering you the position of court healer. A great honour."
Harry frowned. "That's kind. But I decline."
The guard's face didn't change. "You don't understand. The Daimyo has ordered you and your sons confined here until you are brought before the court for official appointment."
Harry stared at him. "Let me see if I've got this straight. I save your prince. And you respond by chaining me here like a dog?"
"You'll be paid," the man said, as if that made a difference. "Treated well."
"I didn't heal your prince for money. And I certainly won't be caged for your convenience."
The shinobi stepped towards the door, looking regretful. "Please… don't make this harder than it needs to be."
The door shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Shikamaru stood rigid, fists clenched. "They're trying to steal you," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "You healed him, and now they want to own you!"
Teddy was copying his posture, eyes squinting. His soft hair turned red like firelight.
Harry placed a calming hand on both their heads. "Don't worry. They forgot something very important."
Shikamaru tilted his head.
Harry walked to the window and flicked open the latch. The breeze ruffled the curtains, and beyond it stretched the open sky.
"They forgot about the window. Never leave a potential escape route."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a shrunken square of fabric. With a quick flick, the flying carpet unfurled and hovered a foot off the floor.
"Up you go, Maru."
Shikamaru clambered on, barely suppressing a triumphant grin. "We're really doing it?"
Harry strapped Teddy to his chest, cast his veil over all of them, and stepped lightly onto the carpet.
"Hold on tight."
And they soared out the window.
The city spread out beneath them like a tapestry—bright lanterns, winding streets, distant temples. Wind rushed past, carrying the sound of Shikamaru's delighted cackles and Teddy's squeals of joy. Harry glanced over his shoulder, heart swelling at the sight of their laughter, their freedom.
"Let's never come back here," Shikamaru said gleefully.
Harry grinned. "Deal."
They angled southward, toward Wind Country.
And as they vanished into the sky, the palace guards rushed into an empty room—too late. A note was left on the bed in messy calligraphy. When it was passed on to the Daimyo not long after, the fat man on his throne let out a squeak and fainted to the ground.
Healers are not tools. And we are not your prisoners. I saved your prince. And you dared to try to put me and my sons in chains. Be glad I didn't bathe this city in dragon fire. This is my mercy…
—Maashah
~
They flew for hours beneath an unfamiliar sky, a stretch of starlight painted over the inky blackness above them. The magical carpet drifted lazily in the warm air currents, cushioned by protective wards and Harry's ever-vigilant presence.
Teddy was fast asleep on Harry's chest, cheek pressed against the thin fabric of his robes, his tiny fists curled loosely in the folds of cloth. His soft, steady breathing rose and fell with the motion of the carpet.
Shikamaru lay on his stomach near the front, chin on folded arms, legs kicking back and forth behind him as he stared at the stars.
"They're different in the Keep," Shikamaru murmured, eyes still fixed on the sky.
Harry, lounging behind him, leaned on an elbow, brushing a strand of wind-blown hair from his face. "They are. I don't recognise a single constellation here."
"You told me stories about the ones in your world," Shikamaru said softly. "Orion, Sirius, the twins…"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Stories passed down from myth. I knew them all. But these..." He tilted his head back, scanning the sky. "They're strangers."
Shikamaru was quiet for a moment, then said, "My dad knew all the stories from our stars. He used to tell them to me at night. Said they helped him think."
Harry's heart clenched. He shifted, wrapping an arm gently around the boy's shoulders, tucking him close without disturbing Teddy. "I'm sure he'd be so proud of you, Shikamaru. Of the boy you are. Brave. Smart. Kind. The best kind of person."
The boy blinked up at him, brown eyes shimmering faintly. "You really think so?"
Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against Shikamaru's. "I know so."
"Thank you, Maashah," Shikamaru whispered, voice barely audible over the wind.
Harry held him like that for a long moment, then finally sat up. "Alright. Let's get down before we all fall asleep mid-flight."
They descended into a thickly wooded area, a clearing ringed by tall trees. Harry scanned the surroundings carefully—no chakra signatures, no signs of life beyond the local animals. Safe enough.
With a flick of his hand, their magical tent sprang to life, unfolding itself into a small tent next to the carpet.
Shikamaru yawned, dragging his bag behind him as they slipped inside. The tent was warm, lit softly by enchanted globes floating near the ceiling. Harry placed Teddy gently into his cot, brushing the baby's wild hair from his face before turning to find Shikamaru already settling on the bedroll.
"Maashah, can I have a story?"
Harry raised a brow as he pulled out clean clothes for the boy. "A story, huh? Which one?"
"The one about the three brothers. Ignotus' story."
Harry hesitated, the request wrapping icy fingers around his heart. That story always hit too close these days. He remembered limbo—remembered Death wearing Ignotus' face. What the being insinuated. But when he saw the hopeful look on Shikamaru's face, he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
"Alright," he said. "But bath first. No stories for grimy little adventurers."
Shikamaru groaned but stood, letting Harry lead him to the tent's bathroom. The bath filled with warm water at a whisper of magic. As Harry helped Shikamaru scrub his hair, the boy asked, "Why do all the Daimyos try to control you so badly?"
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The Earth Daimyo tried to chain you up—even without a dragon. You healed the prince, and instead of saying thank you, he wanted to trap you in the palace. The Fire Daimyo did the same and tried to steal Nox from you."
Harry sighed. "Because people always want to control what they fear or covet. Or what they think they can use. There's always someone out there who sees power as a tool to claim, rather than a gift to protect."
Shikamaru was quiet for a moment, then mumbled something.
Harry tilted his head. "What was that?"
Shikamaru said louder, "Nox says we're dragons. That no one chains a dragon."
That made Harry chuckle, warm and low. He pulled Shikamaru into a towel and kissed his clean hair. "No one chains a dragon," he agreed softly. "Never again."
He thought of Lyra, of Altair, of the dragons who had once been bound and tormented.
Once Shikamaru was dry and dressed in soft cotton nightclothes, they curled up together on the bedroll. Shikamaru tucked himself into Harry's side, head resting just below his shoulder.
"Will Tsunade have a dragon egg, too?" Shikamaru asked, voice thick with drowsiness.
Harry smiled. "Not likely. The dragons magic melded itself into my mine and vice versa, so unless I adopt her, she won't have that connection."
"That's okay," Shikamaru mumbled. "She has her slugs anyway."
Harry made a face. "Still don't get how slugs and toads can save lives."
"They do," Shikamaru said sleepily. "They're summons."
"I'll take your word for it."
Then Harry began the tale.
"Once upon a time, in a land not too different from this one, there were three brothers who were traveling along a lonely road…"
His voice was low, steady—each word painting vivid pictures in the boy's mind. The bridge, the cloaked figure of Death, the three gifts. The wand. The stone. The cloak.
As he spoke, Shikamaru's breathing deepened, his little fingers curling in the fabric of Harry's robes. Teddy murmured softly in his cot, shifting slightly.
"…And so Death took the first two brothers, but the third greeted him as an old friend, and together they departed this life as equals."
Harry's voice faded into the quiet of the tent. He looked down at the two boys—his boys—and gently ran his hand over Shikamaru's hair.
"Sleep well, little dragon," he whispered.
That night, Harry didn't sleep. He sat just outside the tent, staring up at the unfamiliar stars, wondering if Death still watched him. Then he wondered if Shikamaru's father was looking down on them as well, watching over his son.
~
The next morning came quiet and golden, the sky painted in hues of soft orange and warm rose. Mist lingered low over the earth, still tucked in sleep while the world prepared to wake. The carpet, rolled and tied, rested at the foot of the tent, ready for the next leg of their journey.
"Let's go on foot today," Harry said softly as he adjusted Teddy into the wrap across his chest, the baby snuffling drowsily.
Shikamaru blinked up at him, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. "Are we far enough from the Earth capital?"
"We've put about two days between us," Harry nodded, scanning the area with his senses for any signs of chakra. "I'd rather be off the air for a bit. Besides, the land down here's worth walking through."
And it was. The trees of the southern forest swayed in the soft wind, a vibrant canopy of reds and greens. The trails they followed curved through little valleys and winding rivers, passing farmland and sleepy outposts, where they caught snatches of local chatter and sometimes shared a hot bowl of rice or tea.
In one such village—a simple place nestled into the forest's arms—they paused near a small market square, listening to the gossip of two elderly women as they peeled vegetables on a porch.
"I told 'em to wait for the travelling medics from Stone, but no, the apothecary says they've got to cut it off. Poor little Toma—only five, bless his soul."
Shikamaru froze mid-step.
Harry turned slowly, his brow furrowing.
"You hear that? Can you help them?" Shikamaru asked, wide-eyed.
"I did." Harry's face took on a hesitant look.
Making up his mind, he stepped toward the women with Teddy nestled against his chest, shifting the basket he carried onto one shoulder. "Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. You mentioned a child... about to lose his leg?"
Both women looked up, blinking at the young man—clearly foreign, clearly not from any of the nearby villages. They eyed the child sleeping against his chest, then the boy peeking from behind his robes.
"We don't mean to speak out of turn," one woman said nervously, wiping her hands on her apron. "But yes. The village healer says there's nothing more to be done. The break was too bad, and there's rot about to set in."
"Where is he?" Harry asked without preamble.
The women exchanged glances. "You're a healer?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "And I won't let a five-year-old lose his leg if I can help it."
Their eyes widened, and one pointed down the lane. "Third house on the left. The one with the rice paper door."
Harry thanked them with a nod and started walking.
The house was no more than a hut—wooden beams, patched straw roof, clay chimney that puffed faintly. A man was outside sharpening a sickle with a whetstone, and an older woman—the grandmother he thought—sat beside a basket of roots.
They looked up warily as Harry approached, Shikamaru at his side.
"We heard about your boy," Harry said quietly. "I'm a healer. I'd like to see if I can help."
The father rose to his feet immediately, setting the blade aside. "We can't pay."
"You don't have to," Shikamaru piped up quickly. "Papa doesn't care about that. He likes helping people."
Harry gave him a look that was half a sigh, half a smile.
The grandmother slapped the man's shoulder. "Don't be an idiot, Jun. You think the gods dropped this one here for nothing?"
The father—Jun—nodded slowly. "He's inside. This way."
The interior of the hut was dim but clean, the tatami mats worn smooth. A small boy lay on a futon in the corner, his leg splinted with old bamboo and thick bandages. His skin was pale, his face flushed.
Harry crouched by his side, running his hand slowly along the boy's leg. He closed his eyes, letting the diagnostic spell flow through his palm. The damage was severe—bone fragments, rot beginning to set in. It made Harry's jaw relax slightly, knowing he could easily fix this.
"He's lucky to still have his leg at all," he murmured. "But I can fix this."
The parents stared.
"I'll have to vanish the damaged bones and regrow them. It'll take the night. He'll sleep through it."
"That's not possible," Jun said, confused.
"Think of it like a shinobi technique," Harry said with a faint smile. "One I've had used on me, actually. He'll be alright."
He turned to the grandmother. "Would you be willing to house us for the night? I want to keep an eye on him."
She didn't hesitate. She grabbed him into a hug, tearful. "Bless you, child. Bless you for helping our Toma."
Harry gently waved his hand, summoning a small vial of Dreamless Sleep and another of Skelegrow. "Toma," he said softly, brushing the boy's hair, "this might tickle a bit."
He vanished the bone and fragments with a thought. The leg sagging into itself, grotesque but no longer in pain. He whispered a sleeping spell, and gave the boy the potion, before tucking him in.
Then the waiting began.
Later that evening, Harry sat outside with Shikamaru, watching the stars reappear overhead as the grandmother brought out bowls of stew and hard bread. Shikamaru passed Harry his bowl before sitting down beside him.
"They were talking in the square," Shikamaru said. "I overheard some of the men. The village was caught between two ninja groups last week. A battle, apparently."
Harry frowned as the boy continued.
"They said the Earth shinobi didn't even help after. Just left everything in ruins."
Harry rubbed a hand over his mouth. "And what? No aid? No repairs?"
Shikamaru shook his head. "They said they can't afford to fix it. Even buying enough food to last the winter's going to be hard. Trade won't come back for months."
Harry sighed, leaning back against the wall of the house. "That's not right."
"I don't want to walk around the village anymore," Shikamaru said. "Can we play Shogi instead?"
Harry smiled. "Only if you promise to let me win this time."
"I make no promises," Shikamaru said, already pulling out the board.
Teddy, now awake and sitting in his floating crib, banged the edge of the crib every time Shikamaru cheered from another victory. Harry gave them both a betrayed look.
"You're both conspiring against me."
Teddy let out a gurgling laugh. Shikamaru just smiled smugly.
By morning, little Toma was fully healed.
The family cried when he stood on both legs, shaky but strong. The apothecary, an old man with white eyebrows and a weathered robe, watched in stunned silence.
"What… what was in that elixir?" he asked hoarsely.
Harry gave a kind smile. "A family recipe. But I can share some books with you—help you modernise a bit."
He pulled a few copied books from his satchel, charmed them to Japanese with a simple wandless spell. The man held them like holy texts.
Harry was quietly pleased. Glad to have found the translation charm—it had saved him hours of study. The Japanese alphabet was vast after all.
They stayed for two more days. Harry healed the sickest villagers, gave the apothecary measured doses of pepper-up potion with strict instructions, and even helped repair some of the apothecary's tools.
On their final night, Harry sat beside Shikamaru, who looked unusually quiet.
"They need more help. They won't survive the winter, will they?" Shikamaru whispered.
Harry smiled. "You're such a good kid."
He knelt, brushing the boy's hair back. "But don't worry. I've got a plan."
That night, under cover of darkness, Harry cast a widespread sleeping charm across the village. One that would keep everyone sleeping peacefully until dawn.
Shikamaru watched wide-eyed as Harry showed him the Reparo charm in action—wandless, elegant, weaving it through the homes, wells, roofs, and fields. He explained slowly how the charm worked, how intention shaped magic.
"This is what you did in Taki, right?" Shikamaru asked.
Harry nodded. "Exactly."
He called for Tilly, Kip, and Lyric—some of the keep's other house-elves. Days ago, when Shikamaru had first overheard the villagers' plight, Harry had summoned Tilly, creating a plan. The elves prepared crates of food from the storehouses—meats, vegetables, rice, preserves—enough to last the village a month.
Shikamaru helped them place a crate at every doorstep, while Harry finished regrowing the crop fields nearby. When he returned to Harry, his grin was mischievous.
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing."
He should have known better.
By morning, the village stirred.
Then it erupted.
Cries of joy, shouts of disbelief. People spilled from their homes to see their village whole again. Fields were full. Houses solid. The air was clean and full of fresh earth.
At every doorstep sat a crate of food. And on top of every one… a simple note.
Thank you for your hospitality. Please accept this gift on behalf of the Maashah.
Harry would find out later what Shikamaru had done with the elves help. But by then, it was too late. The stories had begun to spread.
The Dragon Lord had passed through.
And he had left only miracles behind.
~
The desert stretched endlessly before them, a vast expanse of golden dunes shimmering under the relentless sun. Despite it being winter, the heat was oppressive, the sun's rays unyielding. Harry, ever resourceful, had conjured wide-brimmed hats in the local style, embedding them with cooling and protection charms.
As they joined a small caravan heading towards the Hidden Sand Village, Harry took the opportunity to learn more about the Land of Wind. The caravan leader, a jovial man named Riku, shared tales of the desert's mysteries and the resilience of its people. He spoke of the "Sand Dumpling," a local delicacy made with soy flour prepared to resemble sand, and insisted Harry try it.
During their journey, they encountered a wandering monk who overheard Harry inquiring about Tsunade Senju. The monk mentioned rumours of her healing children in the southern wastes, but noted she had likely moved east by now. At night, away from the prying eyes, harry confirmed this with another Point-Me spell.
Upon reaching the Hidden Sand Village, they settled into a modest inn. This village was nothing like the others he had seen, he guessed living in the dessert didn't afford them the same opportunities for trade.
Harry took Shikamaru and Teddy to a local park, a rare mix of greenery amidst the sand. As the boys played, Harry noticed a red-haired boy, around Shikamaru's age, sitting alone. The other children seemed to avoid him, casting wary glances his way. The boy seemed to curl in on himself as he listened to the other boys whisper behind their hands.
Children can be cruel, he thought. Having seen enough, Harry approached the boy, who looked up with wide, startled eyes.
"Hey there," Harry said gently. "Are you okay?"
The boy nodded hesitantly.
"Would you like to play with my sons?" Harry offered, extending his hand.
The boy stared at the hand, then slowly reached out and took it. Harry felt a pang of sadness; he recognised that look of surprise and longing. It reminded him of his own childhood, of the first time someone had shown him kindness.
Shikamaru noticed them and ran over, taking the boy's other hand. "Come on! Let's build a sandcastle!"
The red-haired boy hesitated, then nodded. As they played, he formed a sandcastle in his palm and shyly presented it to Shikamaru. Harry was a little awed at the gift this boy showed, he wondered if it was normal for a child in this world, and he remembers Asuma telling him about bloodline limits.
He must have one, to control the sand maybe?
"Wow! That's amazing!" Shikamaru exclaimed. "Will it stay like that forever?"
The boy nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.
"I'm Maru! What's your name?" Shikamaru asked.
"Gaara," he whispered.
As the sun began to set, Harry called the boys over. "Time to get dinner."
Gaara's shoulders slumped.
"Can Gaara come too?" Shikamaru asked.
Harry hesitated. "Would your parents be okay with that?"
Gaara nodded. "Uncle Yashamaru will come get me when it's time to go home."
They found a small dumpling shop, where Harry ordered a variety of dishes. Teddy happily munched on the soft foods, while the boys chatted animatedly. Harry watched them, feeling a mix of joy and apprehension. He knew they would have to move on soon, but for now, he cherished the moment.
Over the next few days, Gaara became a regular part of their outings. He opened up gradually, even speaking to Harry.
"You make the voice be quiet," Gaara said one day.
Harry was puzzled but simply patted his head. "I'm glad."
One afternoon, as Harry sat on a bench with a napping Teddy, a man with sandy blonde hair and violet eyes approached them.
"Mind if I sit?" the man asked.
"Go ahead," Harry replied, subtly tightening his grip on Teddy.
"My nephew has been meeting his friend here for a few days," the man said. "Would you happen to be Hari, parent of Maru?"
Harry nodded. "And you are?"
"Yashamaru. Gaara's uncle."
They conversed pleasantly, discussing the boys and the village. Harry sensed Yashamaru's concern and, with a touch of guilt, read his surface thoughts. He realised Yashamaru was worried about Gaara and Harry's intentions, wondering if he was trying to get close to the Kazekage's son.
Harry was taken aback. Gaara was the village leader's son? No wonder people had been watching them every day.Just then, Gaara ran up, dragging Shikamaru behind him. "Uncle Yashamaru!"
Yashamaru smiled warmly. "Hello, Gaara."
As the boys played nearby, Harry and Yashamaru continued their conversation, both men finding comfort in the shared concern for the children.