A Ninja Calamity is a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts

Kouchi had underestimated how exhausting mapping the castle would be. The labyrinthine layout of Hogwarts was far more complex than he initially thought. His late-night exploration had stretched well into the early hours of the morning, and by the time he finally dragged himself to bed, his body screamed for rest.

But sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. Morning classes waited for no one, not even shinobi on secret missions.

______

The greenhouse felt warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through its glass walls. Rows of strange plants twitched and hummed softly, their magic pulsating faintly in the air. Kouchi slouched against the worktable, his eyelids heavy as Professor Sprout clapped her hands to gather the class's attention.

"Welcome to your first Herbology lesson!" she said brightly, her round face glowing with enthusiasm. "Today, we'll be working with Devil's Snare. It's a tricky plant, so I'll need everyone to listen closely and follow protocol. Safety is our top priority!"

Her voice seemed far away to Kouchi, like an echo in a tunnel. He blinked slowly, struggling to keep his head up.

"Mr. Kouchi," Professor Sprout's voice cut through the haze. "Are you paying attention?"

Kouchi forced himself to straighten, nodding curtly. "Yes, Professor."

Sprout gave him a doubtful look but continued her explanation, gesturing to the writhing mass of vines in the center of the greenhouse.

______

The lesson began, each student assigned to a station with their own Devil's Snare to manage. The goal was simple: use Lumos to subdue the plant's aggressive movements and safely repot it into a larger container.

Kouchi stared at his assigned vine, its dark tendrils twisting ominously. His wand sat loosely in his hand, but his grip felt unsteady, his mind fogged from lack of sleep.

He muttered the incantation under his breath, the tip of his wand emitting a weak glow. The Devil's Snare paused briefly, recoiling from the light, but Kouchi's tiredness made his control slip. The light flickered, and the plant struck back, lashing out with surprising speed.

The tendrils wrapped around his wrist, tightening like a vice. Kouchi instinctively flared his chakra, the sudden surge of energy snapping the vine's grip. But the outburst startled the other students, causing chaos in the greenhouse.

Several nearby plants reacted violently, their tendrils flailing as students yelped and scrambled away.

"Kouchi!" Professor Sprout's voice rang out sharply, her tone heavy with disappointment.

Kouchi blinked, shaking off the fog of fatigue as Sprout marched over, her hands on her hips. "I told you to pay attention! Devil's Snare is dangerous if not handled properly."

"I—" Kouchi began, but the professor cut him off.

"No excuses," she said firmly. "Detention. You'll report to Mr. Filch after dinner tonight."

The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully, but the atmosphere was tense. His classmates avoided him even more than usual, whispering behind his back.

"Figures," one student muttered. "He's so careless. Could've gotten someone hurt."

Kouchi didn't bother defending himself. He was too tired to care. By the time the class ended, he had already resigned himself to the inevitable: detention.

That evening, after dinner, Kouchi found himself outside Filch's office. The caretaker opened the door with a sour expression, his ever-present cat, Mrs. Norris, winding around his legs.

"Late on your first day, are you?" Filch grumbled. "Figures. You're all the same, thinking you're too good for the rules."

Kouchi said nothing, following Filch down a dimly lit corridor.

Detention, as it turned out, was less punishment and more of a tedious chore. Filch handed him a bucket and a rag, ordering him to scrub a section of the dungeon floor without magic.

Kouchi knelt and got to work, the repetitive motion almost meditative. His tired mind welcomed the quiet, the chance to reflect.

In truth, he wasn't disappointed about the detention. If anything, it gave him time to recharge, away from the prying eyes and whispers of his classmates. The dull task required no real effort, allowing his mind to wander.

By the time he finished, Filch inspected his work with a grudging nod of approval. "Could've been worse," he muttered. "Off with you, then. And don't let me catch you slacking off again."

As Kouchi left the dungeons, he couldn't help but smirk faintly. Detention had been a small price to pay for a moment of peace. Tomorrow, he'd be better prepared.

______

Kouchi made his way back to the Hufflepuff common room after detention, his movements slow and deliberate. He had grown used to the damp, stone corridors of Hogwarts, but tonight they felt particularly oppressive.

The shadows seemed to stretch longer, the atmosphere heavy with the whispers of ancient magic. His mind was still preoccupied with the events of the day, especially his less-than-ideal introduction to Herbology. But as he turned a corner, he was met with an unexpected interruption.

"Hey, look at this one!" A high-pitched voice echoed down the hallway. "A new student, all alone…"

Kouchi's sharp eyes narrowed. Floating near the ceiling was a translucent figure, its body glowing faintly in the dim light. It had a long, flowing sheet of a robe, but its face was obscured by a mask, with empty eye sockets staring down at him.

The ghost was accompanied by two others, their forms similarly ghostly but no less mischievous.

"We've got a live one," another ghost remarked, her voice dripping with mockery. "What's your name, little boy?"

Kouchi didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied the apparitions with a calculating gaze, wondering what their angle was.

He wasn't in the mood for this—he had barely recovered from the chaos of Herbology, and now these ghosts wanted to waste his time. His head still ached, the exhaustion from the last few days weighing heavily on him.

The ghost in front cackled. "A quiet one, are we? You're going to love Hogwarts! The stories, the jokes... you'll fit right in! Or maybe we'll make you the punchline, hm?"

Kouchi's lips twitched slightly as he reached for his chakra, dismissing the ghost's taunts. In his tired state, his patience was running thin, and the last thing he wanted was a ghost messing with him. He exhaled softly, a faint pulse of energy surging through his body.

Without warning, Kouchi extended his hand, a burst of chakra flowing through his palm. The energy collided with the ghost closest to him with a sharp thud, and the ghost let out a startled yelp as it was knocked backward, floating several feet away before it steadied itself.

The other two ghosts froze, staring at Kouchi in wide-eyed shock. In all their years of haunting the castle, they had never met anyone who could touch them—let alone strike them with such force.

"You... you touched me!" one of the ghosts gasped, her voice trembling.

The other ghost, still hovering in the air, seemed to shrink back in fear, his eyes darting nervously toward his companions. "You can touch us?!" he echoed, voice a mix of disbelief and apprehension.

Kouchi didn't look particularly bothered by their reactions. He simply adjusted his posture, his gaze cold and indifferent. "I didn't ask to be bothered," he muttered, stepping around the stunned ghosts and continuing his walk toward the common room.

The three ghosts exchanged anxious glances, their playful demeanor evaporating into something far more fearful. One of them floated closer, but his voice had lost its earlier mocking tone. "You're not... like the others. What are you?"

Kouchi didn't answer, choosing to ignore their questions. The tension in the air was palpable, and he could feel the ghosts' discomfort growing by the second. He had made his point—he wasn't someone they could mess with.

"Let's go," the first ghost muttered to the others, her voice tight. "He's not worth our time."

The ghosts floated away, but their fear lingered in the air, the whispers of their retreat echoing in Kouchi's ears. He had been hoping for some quiet, but it seemed that once again, his mere presence had stirred up more trouble than he had anticipated.

The next morning, as Kouchi made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, he couldn't help but notice how everyone seemed to give him a wide berth.

It wasn't just his housemates this time—there was a palpable unease in the air. Whispers fluttered like shadows around him, though no one dared to approach. He noticed a few students glance nervously over their shoulders as they hurried to their seats, but they quickly turned away when his gaze swept over them.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter and his friends were no exception. They had been whispering amongst themselves for some time, and now, Kouchi could feel their eyes on him, curious but cautious.

As he took his seat, he overheard snatches of conversation from the students nearby, all of them talking in hushed voices, as if they were afraid he would hear them—though, he did.

"Did you hear what happened last night? The ghost tried to mess with him, and he just... hit it! No one's ever done that before."

"Who even is that kid? I've never seen someone like him before."

"I heard he's dangerous. A freak of nature. You saw the tattoos, right? Creepy."

The rumors were already beginning to spread. It seemed the ghosts' reactions had added fuel to the fire. To Kouchi, it was just another nuisance.

The whispers and the wariness of his peers didn't concern him. He didn't need to make friends, especially with people who were too quick to judge. Still, it was impossible to ignore the weight of the rumors building up around him, ones he hadn't even intended to start.

He tried to focus on his meal, though he noticed more students avoid looking directly at him, as if even acknowledging his presence might draw some kind of misfortune.

Kouchi was used to this sort of treatment, having been an outsider before, but there was something different here—a nervous energy, as if they all sensed something about him that they couldn't understand.

"Good morning, Kouchi," a voice suddenly broke through his thoughts.

It was the prefect from Hufflepuff, the one who had been guiding him the first night. He seemed less afraid of Kouchi than most, but there was still a noticeable tension in his eyes.

"Morning," Kouchi muttered, his gaze flicking over to the prefect. He didn't want to be bothered with small talk, but the boy didn't seem deterred.

"Rumors are spreading, huh?" the prefect said quietly, almost as if reading Kouchi's mind. "The ghosts were talking about you, and now, well... people are a bit... wary."

Kouchi shrugged, not particularly interested in discussing his reputation. "Let them talk."

The prefect hesitated for a moment, then gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, but you should be careful. People here don't take kindly to... being scared."

Kouchi leaned back in his seat, his eyes scanning the room. "It's not my problem if they're scared of me. I didn't ask for their attention."

But as he said it, he knew that the rumors would only grow from here. The whispers would follow him wherever he went, like an invisible cloud, and the students who had already decided to avoid him would only avoid him more. It was the price of being different—something Kouchi had come to accept long ago.

In the end, the rumors would pass. They always did. But for now, he could only endure them, pretending not to care as the entire school seemed to keep its distance.