A New Path

The flickering light of the Third Exam stadium cast shifting shadows over the high platform where the village’s most powerful figures sat, their sharp gazes watching over the arena like silent predators.

The large screen shifted, revealing the next match:

Harry Potter vs. Dosu Kinuta

An immediate change in the air.

Danzo’s single visible eye narrowed slightly, his fingers barely tapping against the armrest of his seat. Beside him, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane exchanged meaningful glances. The reaction was subtle, but Hiruzen had been Hokage for too long not to notice.

So, it begins.

He did not react outwardly, merely exhaling a small cloud of smoke from his pipe as if the name meant nothing.

But to them, it did. For months now, Danzo had tolerated the boy’s presence, quietly gathering whatever intelligence he could. And yet—there was nothing. No records, no files, no history. He wasn’t listed in the orphanage. No missions before the Academy. Not even a whisper of a clan or background.

A ghost.

Yet this ghost had been personally placed into the Academy by Hiruzen himself. Then, as if that wasn’t irregular enough, the boy had been assigned to Team 7, making them an unprecedented four-man cell. A decision that went against standard shinobi structure.

It was too deliberate. Too careful. Too protected. A test subject. A rogue clan heir. Or, perhaps, something else entirely.

Danzo turned his eye toward the Third Hokage. "Tell me, Hiruzen," he said, his voice smooth but pressing, "is this finally the opportunity where we learn what exactly you’ve been hiding?"

Hiruzen did not look away from the arena, keeping his expression neutral. "Hiding? I do not recall hiding anything."

Homura, ever the analyst, adjusted his robes. "We’ve tolerated your secrecy long enough, old friend. The fact remains: there are no records of this child. Not in the orphanage, not among the civilian registry, not even among the wandering orphans left behind from the wars. This boy simply... appeared in the village, and you placed him under your direct supervision."

Koharu’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You expect us to believe you did that without reason?"

Hiruzen hummed, taking another drag from his pipe before answering. "It was my decision as Hokage to take him in."

Danzo did not let the answer stand. "Where did he come from?"

Hiruzen finally turned to him, exhaling a steady stream of smoke. "A child’s origins do not determine their worth. Or have you forgotten Naruto Uzumaki’s existence?"

A well-placed deflection.

Danzo’s fingers twitched, but he did not take the bait. "Naruto has a lineage. He is the Yondaime’s son, born in Konoha, and his existence is well-documented. This boy?" His single eye gleamed. "He does not exist."

Hiruzen exhaled through his nose. "And yet, he stands down there, very much alive."

"Do not toy with us, Hiruzen," Koharu interjected, her voice sharper this time. "You had the ability to forge records. To fabricate a past. But you didn’t. Why?"

Hiruzen took a moment to readjust his pipe. "Because I had no need to."

Homura frowned. "That makes no sense."

"Does it not?" Hiruzen countered, his eyes finally meeting theirs fully, unwavering and unreadable. "What benefit would there be in deceiving my own council?"

A pause. Then, smoothly, he continued.

"You forget, my dear friends, that this child has done nothing wrong. He has passed his Academy exams. He has integrated well with his team. He is no threat to Konoha. Tell me, what is it you truly fear?"

Homura and Koharu hesitated for only a fraction of a second.

Danzo, however, was not so easily rattled. "Fear is not the issue. Understanding is." His fingers steepled under his chin. "Does he have a kekkei genkai?"

Hiruzen did not blink. "Not to my knowledge."

The half-truth rolled off his tongue effortlessly.

Because it was true—Harry did not have a bloodline limit. His abilities, whatever they were, stemmed from something else. Something beyond this world’s understanding.

Koharu’s gaze flickered toward the match. "And yet, you still placed him in Team 7, alongside Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha—two of the most valuable assets of this generation."

Hiruzen’s voice was utterly calm. "I placed him with them because he has had a positive impact on Naruto. Have you not noticed the boy’s growth?"

Danzo’s eye gleamed at the shift in topic, but he did not refute it. "His growth was inevitable. He is an Uzumaki, after all."

Hiruzen smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But it certainly helps to have friends, does it not?"

Another well-placed deflection. The council members knew it. They weren’t satisfied—but they could not openly challenge him. Not without concrete proof of wrongdoing.

For now, the conversation settled, though the weight of suspicion did not fade. Danzo merely let out a small, unreadable hum as he turned his gaze back toward the arena, where Harry Potter stood across from Dosu Kinuta.

"Then let us see," he thought to himself, "what this ghost of yours is capable of, Hiruzen."

And with that, the fight began.

Harry stood still, his katana gleaming under the arena lights as he studied his opponent. Dosu Kin. One of the shinobi Sakura had faced in the Forest of Death. One of the ones who had scarred her face. Harry had already decided—this fight wasn’t just about advancing in the exams. It was payback.

His stance was loose, yet deceptively controlled, the katana resting lightly in his grip as he moved like a bird on the wind—light-footed, balanced, unpredictable. His footfalls were near soundless, his movements fluid as if gliding across ice. The moment the proctor’s hand dropped, signaling the fight’s start, Harry was already in motion. He dashed forward, his katana slicing through the air in a controlled arc. Dosu barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side just in time to avoid being cut. But Harry was relentless, twisting on his heel and redirecting his momentum, his katana coming at Dosu from a different angle. Dosu growled, his bandaged hand flashing up as he swung his massive gauntlet toward Harry. Harry recognized the attack instantly—it wasn’t a simple strike. Chakra pulsed through the gauntlet, warping the air with sound waves too fast for the normal eye to see. A sound-based jutsu.

Harry didn’t hesitate. As the jutsu was released, he activated his own technique—Lightning Blade.

Chakra surged through his katana, coating the steel in crackling, bright-blue lightning. The moment Dosu’s sound waves hit, the two forces clashed violently, sending sparks flying and creating a shockwave that reverberated through the arena. The sound waves distorted in midair, some scattering in random directions, others dissipating entirely as they met the electrical force of Harry’s blade.

But Harry didn’t wait for the aftermath—he was already moving. He jumped back, twisting in midair as he expelled Fire Release: Phoenix Flash.

Flames erupted from his mouth in rapid, precise bursts, the fireballs streaking toward Dosu before he could recover from the sound-wave collision. The fire hissed upon impact, licking at Dosu’s gauntlet and scorching the exposed metal. The heat warped it instantly, twisting the intricate mechanisms out of shape. Dosu stumbled back, cursing under his breath as smoke rose from his arm. His gauntlet was damaged, but not entirely useless. Not yet. But Harry wasn’t about to give him time to recalibrate.

He pressed forward, forcing Dosu into close combat. His katana became an extension of his arm—each strike precise, controlled, unrelenting. Dosu tried to keep his distance, but Harry was faster. Every attempted retreat was met with a quick step forward, every evasion countered by a well-placed feint. Then, Dosu made a mistake. He swung his gauntlet at Harry in a last-ditch effort to activate another sound-wave jutsu. But his movements were rushed, his footing unstable. Harry saw the opening immediately. He ducked under the attack, pivoting on his heel, and in a single, fluid motion, his katana sliced through the weakened metal.

The gauntlet shattered.

Metal fragments scattered across the floor, the inner mechanisms exposed and ruined. Dosu’s one advantage—gone.

A brief silence followed as Dosu stared at his now-useless weapon, realization dawning on his expression. And then, before he could react, Harry struck one last time. A downward slash, deliberate and controlled, carved a thin, deep gash along Dosu’s cheek. Blood dripped onto the ground, stark against the pale stone of the arena floor. Dosu flinched but didn’t cry out. His good hand clenched into a fist, his body tense. He knew exactly why Harry had done it.

A debt repaid.

“Match over!” the proctor’s voice rang out.

Harry flicked the blood off his katana, the blade returning to its sheath with a quiet click. He turned away, leaving Dosu in the dust as medics rushed in to tend to him.

From the stands, the murmurs were immediate.

Danzo’s visible eye locked onto Harry with unnerving intensity. Koharu and Homura exchanged questioning glances.

No records. No history. Nothing on this boy. And yet, here he was—displaying abilities that demanded attention. Lightning Release. Fire Release. Swordsmanship. Unpredictable combat instincts.

A mystery.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his pipe as he watched Harry return to Team 7. He had known this fight would stir curiosity, but the intensity of the interest was even greater than he expected.

And yet, he offered no explanations.

For now, all that mattered was that Harry Potter had won.

Temari stared at the arena floor, then up at the stands where Harry Potter—who had just dismantled Dosu—was being congratulated by his teammates. She scoffed, arms crossed.

"Is it just me, or is everyone from that little ‘Team 7’ completely unhinged?" she muttered, eyes flicking toward Kankuro.

Kankuro let out a huff of laughter, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, no kidding. First, that Naruto guy completely manhandled Kiba like he was putting down a rabid dog. And now this guy—" he jerked his thumb toward Harry, "—fights like he’s got a personal vendetta against the whole world. And that’s not even mentioning Sasuke and Sakura."

Temari’s gaze darkened slightly as she remembered the pink-haired kunoichi. She had held her own against an Oto-nin back in the forest, from what Temari had heard. And just from her stance, the way she held herself, Temari could tell she wasn’t some dead weight.

"Seriously, their craziness almost matches Gaara’s," Kankuro added under his breath.

That was a bold claim. And yet, neither of them could entirely refute it.

Temari narrowed her eyes at the four-person team now gathered in the stands. What the hell had Kakashi been doing to train them?

Harry barely had time to sheathe his katana before he was met with a blur of white, blue, and blonde.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Naruto practically shouted, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him like a ragdoll. "Dude, that fight—the way you broke his gauntlet! And that last hit?! That was, like, top-tier vengeance! You totally pulled a Sasuke with the whole ‘cutting-your-enemy’s-face’ move!"

Harry blinked, mildly disoriented from the sheer force of Naruto’s excitement. He barely had time to process what was happening before another voice—this time Sasuke’s—cut in.

"I don’t do it out of pettiness," Sasuke muttered, crossing his arms. "It’s a calculated, strategic intimidation tactic."

Harry smirked, glancing at Sasuke. "Uh-huh. I’ll keep that in mind next time I feel strategically petty."

Naruto snickered while Sasuke rolled his eyes.

And then, before Harry could react, Sakura stepped forward.

She wasn’t as loud or frantic as Naruto, but there was something softer about the way she looked at him. Her green eyes were bright with something unreadable, her fists clenched at her sides as if she was holding herself back.

Then, she just exhaled. "Thank you, Harry," she said quietly.

Her voice was steady, but the emotion was clear. She wasn’t thanking him for the fight itself. She was thanking him for defending her. For remembering what happened in the Forest of Death. For getting back at Dosu in a way she never could. Harry’s expression softened. He reached forward and, without hesitation, pulled her into a firm but warm hug. Sakura tensed for half a second, probably not expecting it, but then she melted into it, gripping the back of his hoodie slightly.

"You didn’t have to do that," she mumbled against his shoulder.

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I did," he said simply. "He messed with my teammate. That means he messed with me, too."