DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto or Harry Potter. Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto and Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.

Italics text = character thinking to themselves.

Underline+Italics = character communicating with telepathy

Bold text = shouting

Bold+Italcs = Casting Spell/Ability

Chapter One

Spiritual Origins

The day of September 1st had started rather well… considering that the previous night he had found out that a mass murderer, one of Voldemort's top lieutenants, had escaped the previously inescapable prison of Azkaban for the sole purpose of killing him. That kind of thing made you really appreciate the peace an quiet you managed to get in your life.

As such, waking up, not at Privet Drive no less, felt pretty fantastic, considering that it was the day he would be returning to Hogwarts – the one place he saw as home.

The only downsides so far had been the short chat with Arthur Weasley where the man had been insistent on him no trying to go looking for the mass murderer – why the hell would anyone want to do something like that – and hours later a rather pleasantly short chat with his school nemesis, Draco Malfoy.

Then it all went to hell when the train made an unexpected stop and Professor Lupin – who had been asleep in the compartment since before they got there – woke up and hurried off to speak with the driver.

Less then a minute later, the lights went out, the air began to freeze in their chests and all traces of happiness seemed to evaporate from their very beings as several cloaked beings boarded the train.

In short order, a couple of them reached their compartment, which was rather inconveniently at the end of the train and thus just next to one of the doors, and entered, one of them instantly leaning over him who had frozen stiff in horror, screaming ringing in his ears, possibly his considering the agony he felt from the old scar on his forehead.

The last thing he saw as his vision turned into the darkness of unconsciousness was a silvery stream tinted blue that connected his mouth to what lied under the ragged hood.

Horcruxes were a rather nebulous subject in the field of soul magic, which was a rather mysterious domain on its own.

Initially, the Horcrux had been created as an anchor for the larger piece of the soul, for when the body of the wizard had been killed. The Horcrux would feed on a different source of magic, either living or ambient, and create a new body into which both the Horcrux fragment and the main soul would be dragged, essentially reviving the wizard.

This however had the downside of using up the Horcrux.

After Herpo the Foul, several other Dark Wizards and Witches studied his work and eventually the Horcrux spell was changed. It no longer created a body, it no longer pulled on the main soul. What it did, however, was make the container, the Horcrux, almost indestructible by conferring it a portion of the soul's ability to remain unharmed regardless what happened to the body.

This however also removed the ability of the Horcrux to drain magic or to affect the outside world, truly isolating the soul fragment from it's origin, making the it stagnant.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, however, was not satisfied with either version of the spell. He wanted both the restorative powers of Herpo the Foul's Horcrux and the indestructibility of those that followed. Therefore, he did both. He created his first Horcrux out of a mere Muggle diary he had enchanted following Herpo's example, but granted it a large portion of the resistance to damage that he desired by giving it limits to the sources if could draw power from. It was a moderate success, though the soul fragment had still become isolated from the main soul even if it worked perfectly as the anchor it was meant to be.

But the aspiring Dark Lord soon discovered a flaw in his plan. The Diary had cost him a full third of his soul. True, souls healed over time, something especially true for young wizards of great power like himself, but that still meant that he would have to wait for decades make even just one more Horcrux.

That was unacceptable for Lord Voldemort.

So, he was forced to sacrifice his plans for the supreme set of Horcruxes and chose to use the same Horcrux creation method that so many had used before him, with the added twist of a powerful curse placed on each Horcrux. He also decided that if the magical side of the Horcrux could not be as exceptional as he wanted it to be, he would compensate with an exceptional physical container. And what better containers then the relics of the Hogwarts Founders?

However, before he could complete the set with Gryffindor's relic – or even find the blasted thing – he had found himself at the painful side of his own Killing Curse, had his body destroyed and had to flee as a powerless wraith.

What he had never realized was exactly what had happened to his power a well a sliver of his mutilated soul.

In his years of absence from the Wizarding World, he had worked tirelessly to not only accumulate an impressive amount of knowledge and personal power, but to also find a way to accelerate the regeneration of his soul.

The answer he had found was simple: Magic.

Family Magic, to be precise, powers passed down through blood from parent to child just as his own Parseltongue had been. Over the centauries and even millennia, many magical families had become so steep in magic that it became something more, making their gifts even more extraordinary. True, in recent times those gifts had been rather absent but he was certain it was due to pollution with muggle blood.

As such, he had created the Dark Mark. An amalgam of runes concealed into a magical tattoo, bound to his own soul by the receiver of the Mark committing a murder in his name, the Dark Mark slowly but steadily drained on the family magic not just from the Marked Death Eater, but from their immediate relatives as well… all of it used into restoring Voldemort's soul so that he may butcher it again and again.

That night of Halloween 1981 all that magic, held together only by a sliver of Voldemort's soul, latched onto the only viable host – a one year old baby boy that was connected through family magic to his attempted murderer by the Peverell line. However, the extraordinary piece of magic Lily Potter left behind in her son, her full life energy and magic that she had bestowed on him just before Voldemort had arrived to strike her down, opposed what it recognized as the enemy. It was not strong enough to destroy it, it as not strong enough to push it out of his body, but it was just barely enough to contain it and keep it that way…

Until a Dementor decided to pull on the one thing holding that magic together – a liver of the Dark Lord's soul.

With that linchpin gone, all that remained in that magic, both that which had been commanded by Voldemort and possessed by Lily Potter, were three concepts, three purposes: Protect the 'Family'; Empower the 'Blood'; and Protect my 'Son'.

Family, Blood and Son… let it be known that for all some may consider Magic itself sentient, the truth is that at most Magic in general had was a fragile near animal instinct. Give it a nudge in the way you wanted it to go, and it will go. With the loss of Voldemort's soul fragment, all that magic had three strong nudges that were similar enough that they merged into one single direction: Protect and Empower the Blood of Harry Potter, Family of Tom Marvolo Riddle and Son of Lily Potter.

As the dam of power erupted, knocking Harry out, each and every family talent – magical trait – that Voldemort had been so obsessed by was forced into awakening, digging further and further into his genes as it progressed through his ancestry. Changes upon changes occurred into his body and magic, both strengthening him and ripping him apart from the indescribable strain.

Visibly however, the changes could only be seen in his unseeing wide open eyes for a few short seconds before the closed.

Veins bulged around his left eye as emerald iris was washed into milky white, the pupil fading away the same way.

Tears of blood poured from his right eye as the iris inverted, becoming crimson before one, two, three black comas appeared around the pupil and began spinning, causing anther change as ripples erupted from the pupil and spread over the entire eyeball coloring light purple with black concentric rings in a ripple-like pattern around the pupil.

With the change from red to purple in his right eye, the slivery flow between Harry and the Dementor's mouths inverted, heading back into Harry's body and pulling with it all that it had touched within the endless abyss that was its stomach. Within seconds the Dementor had been drained dry of the power it had consumed and that which held it together, causing it tot crumbled into motes of black light that faded into nothing and it's companion to flee… though the Patronus running towards it down the corridor most certainly helped.

By the time the silvery would had reached the compartment, Harry's eyes had closed, but not before going through one final change: the previously milky white left eye now had a blue pupil surrounded by a blue and white flower-like luminescent iris, while the right eye had gained three comas on each of the three rings closest to the pupil, the previous light purple replaced by a crimson that glowed ominously.

Timeskip – September 2nd – Hogwarts Hospital Wing

Albus Dumbledore never thought he could both thank and curse the heavens at the same time. That changed when a desperate Remus Lupin ran up to him carrying an unconscious Harry Potter. A Horcrux-free Harry Potter that was dying due to an unusual reaction to a Dementor.

The past 24 hours had been spent trying to keep the boy alive by healing his heavily damaged body and constantly feeding him magic from the vast majority of the staff as the first and gravest thing that Madam Pomfrey detected was that the boy was suffering from extreme magical exhaustion.

It was truly an iconic example of Potter Luck that he was diagnosed with Magical Exhaustion when he was suffering from Magical Overload, its very opposite condition. Then again, considering that it had not occurred in thousands of years, one could not blame the school nurse that the spell she was using announced the condition of most similar nature to what the Wizarding World was familiar with.

That said, Harry Potter was dying and not even Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix companion, constantly singing its purifying song and occasionally crying a few tears into the boy's half-open mouth was enough to save him.

They were making progress though, and more importantly, Dumbledore was making a choice.

Albus Dumbledore knew he had immense power. He also knew he had immense magical knowledge. But he had chosen to refrain from using both to their full extent since he had managed to defeat his former friend Gelert Grindelwald in their now famous duel. One of the reasons was that he did not trust himself with that power, a conclusion he had reached with the death of his little sister Ariana. Another reason was that he sought to walk the path of the Light, and a rather large chunk of the most potent and powerful magic he could call on was distinctly dark.

One such magic was related to the nature of the Philosopher's Stone. During his apprenticeship under Nicholas Flamel, a rather incredible secret was imparted onto him: the Philosopher's Stone was NOT, in fact, responsible for the apparent immortality of the famous alchemist and his wife. The truth was that it was due to manipulation on their part that the Elixir of Life came to be associated with the Philosopher's Stone that Nicholas created.

As it turned out, the Panacea, theElixir of Immortality, had existed since ancient times, since the time of King Gilgamesh of Uruk, the oldest recorded legend, the miracle drug featuring in his quest. It surfaced time and time again throughout history, with the occasional immortal making himself know before eventually disappearing.

Many of the gods of legend were in fact immortals, wizards that had consumed the Panacea. The Ambrosia and Golden Apples of the Greeks, the Amrita and Soma of the Hindu, the Peaches of Immortality and the Pills of Longevity of the Chinese, the Golden Apples of the Norse, the Fountain of Youth of Ponce de León and even King Arthur's Holy Grail… every one of them was merely just another name for the Panacea.

However, as it turned out, the kind of immortality the Elixir granted was one from the passing of time and from poisons and diseases. It did not, in fact, make them un-killable which was something most immortals found out the hard and painful way, right before they expired.

And it was with this realization that Flamel had created the Philosopher's Stone, nicknamed the Cinnabar Panacea due to its similar appearance to the red mineral. While the Panacea stopped aging and granted immunity to disease and poison as it ascended the body to a form of perfect health, the Cinnabar Panacea created a substance that while looked the same, it was actually a poison that could actually bypass the immunity granted by the Panacea by accelerating the cell division of the body, essentially healing them to the point of death.

It had taken Flamel many forbidden experiments to figure things out regarding his creation, but in the end he concluded that while the Panacea ensured that there was no decay due to cell division, bypassing the law of diminishing returns, the Stone's Elixir did the opposite, overcharging the cellular damage to the point of aging the victim to death within seconds.

That, however, was merely the brut elixir that resulted from using the Stone at a catalyst when transmuting water. A complex alchemic process later resulted in two separate Elixirs derived from the one the Stone provided: the Elixir of Youth, which regressed the body to a younger age proportional to how much of it had been consumed, and the Elixir of Life, which healed any and all wounds, diseases, poisons… it was strong enough to even restore an unbound wraith to physical form.

It was with this knowledge that Flamel had been willing to give Dumbledore the Stone to use it as bait for Voldemort's wraith… or rather, A Stone. After all, it could only be used once, for one dose of brute elixir. While not exactly easy, it had become a routine for Flamel to create the Philosopher's Stone time and time again, whether because he required one of its Elixirs or because he was experimenting to possibly improve it. It was during those series of experiments that the ability to transmute metals into gold was added to the Stone.

And the worse thing that could happen would be Voldemort being revived which did not concern the Flamels in the least – as powerful and knowledgeable Voldemort may be, they were simple beyond him by leaps and bounds. They had already forgotten more magic then Voldemort had even considered it existed.

Best case scenario, Voldemort got the Stone and the brute Elixir killed him for good which was something Dumbledore was counting on.

Then young Harry Potter got into the mess, Voldemort fled without even touching the Stone and the Hogwarts Headmaster had to call on his old Alchemy Master for help in creating the Elixir of Life out of the Stone to save the boy's life from the damage that had nearly burned him from within just as it had did with Quirell from the outside.

And now, the old Wizard had to make a choice – should he step into the Taboo and save the boy once more? He knew the formula for the true Panacea, he knew what had to be done to procure it's ingredients, and it was rather easily given to him by his Master in the arts of Alchemy – but then again, by the time he was studying under Flamel, he no longer sought power, he no longer desired the Deathly Hallows, and it was for that reason that Flamel had told him – Dumbledore wanted to eventually die and see his family again, so he would never allow the Panacea to reach his lips if he could do anything to avoid it.

But use it for another… that was not something neither Albus Dumbledore nor the Flamels had considered when Albus had been brought aboard on the secret.

But now, as his student was dying before his eyes, the old man was tempted… as he saw no other solution. The Flamels could not help him – they had gone in hiding for the next few decades with the full confidence that Dumbledore would have passed away by then, so they had no reason to keep contact. So no Elixir of Life made by the Stone to save Harry again. Phoenix tears were not enough. That only left the Panacea…

"But should I?" Dumbledore thought grimly. "On one hand, the boy is prophesized to be the one to vanquish Tom. On the other hand, damning him to immortality at such a young age… he may even be stuck in his thirteen-year-old form for eternity! Nicholas told me he never aged a day after he consumed the Panacea. He had to use the Stone's Elixir of Youth to de-age himself as his body kept returning to his sixty-three year old form – the age he became immortal…"

Eventually, as he watched the boy he had once again failed to protect due to his unwillingness to force the issue with the Minister in keeping the Dementors away from Hogwarts, the decision was made.

Taking Fawkes with him, he swiftly traveled into the depths of the Forbidden Forest and killed the first Unicorn he found, a few dark spells harvesting its silver blood into a large crystal container he had transfigured. Burning away the corpse with FiendFyre – both to destroy the evidence of his crime and to significantly diminish the curse within the stolen blood – he whispered a destination to a sad looking Fawkes and they disappeared in a burst of flames… only to reaper in a dragon reserve in Norway. Two minutes and a dead dragon later, he retuned to his office with another crystal container, magically enlarged on the inside to hold all the dragon's blood.

"Fawkes, my old friend, you know what I am about to ask of you." Dumbledore said sadly as he hurried into his quarters, particularly the room he had arranged to act as an alchemy lab.

A few sounds that conveyed understanding and forgiveness were the answer and less then a minute later a newborn chic was watching from a mold of ashes as his wizard companion alchemically mixed the blood of three immensely powerful magical creatures into the legendary Panacea.

Less then an hour after he had left, Albus Dumbledore pulled out a Time Turner from among his magical trinkets and spun back an hour before returning to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing and summarily kicked everyone else out, going as far as stunning Madam Pomfrey, before feeding the white ethereally glowing Elixir of Immortality to the near dead Harry Potter.

Within the mind of Harry Potter – minutes before the Panacea was administered

Harry Potter had been surrounded by a maelstrom of colors and sounds, sinking deeper and deeper into his being, ever since he had passed out. They were memories, they were souls, they were magic. And they were becoming his.

And then, it had all been taken in and assimilated. True, there was still a steady flow of magic being pushed into him, but those particular 'flavors' of magic had already been assimilated so it was easy to ignore it.

This allowed him to finally see where he was: he was in a world of darkness, the only source of light being the silvery glowing ankle-high water that he was lying in despite not being wet.

"It appears the he has awaken." An entirely unfamiliar male voice spoke up, startling Harry into a sitting position.

After the countless sets of memories he had assimilated, not recognizing it was something more then a little surprising.

"Have no fear, child, we mean you no harm." Another male voice spoke.

"Really?" a younger, somewhat ethereal, female voice sounded with dry amusement. "So you have no big plans for this one? No great destiny like the others you and your children have transmigrated in? I find that hard to believe."

"Regardless of what you may think, mother, we only had the best intentions for our descendents." The first male voice said in a tired tone.

"I believe there is a saying about that in current times… about the road to hell being paved with good intentions." The woman scoffed.

No longer willing to just listen, Harry got on his feet and turned to meet the three… horned people?

"Yes, we do have horns." The woman rolled all three of her eyes, the pair of milky white ones and the ringed crimson one in her forehead.

"Who are you?" Harry asked warily. "And where are we?"

"We are in your mind, your inner world." The first old man spoke and Harry inspected him. Reddish gray hair, white robe with black commas here and there, an Asian looking staff floating horizontally before him… just as the old man himself was floating in his sitting position with his legs crossed, nine black orbs rotating under him. Nevertheless, what drew the most attention were his light purple eyeballs that possessed a black ripple pattern. That and his two horns that were jutting out of his forehead, a crimson ringed tattoo in the center of that forehead.

"As for what we are… we are your ancestors." The second man spoke. He was very similar in appearance to the first old man, they were most likely closely related, cousins of not siblings, with pure white hair and identical robe, staff and black orbs. His eyes, however, had blue pupils surrounded by blue and white flower-like irises. His horns were also a bit larger and sharper, and he lacked the crimson tattoo.

"Very distant ancestors." The woman provided.

And Harry could nor help but stare, as she was beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen. She had very delicate facial features, with extremely long, sweeping white hair that touched the ground even as she floated a couple feet above it. Most noticeable were two brown horns which stuck out from her head, reminding him of rabbit ears. She had three eyes, something he had noticed from the start, two milky white ones plus a third eye on the centre of her forehead that's eyelids parted vertically. Her eyebrows were cut very short – a symbol of nobility if he remembered right, and she wore a dark shade of lipstick on her lips and a dark shade of nail polish on her long fingernails. She wore the transitional high-collared dress robe which was adorned with intricate lines that are gold and purple and commas running down the centre and edges of the gown. She is also quite pale-skinned, giving her an even more ethereal look in the silver lighting given by the not-water that covered the floor.

"M-My ancestors?" Harry repeated, looking away from her though his eyes frequently glanced back.

"Yes. I am Hagoromo Otsutsuki, and this is my brother Hamura." The first old man introduced.

"And I am their mother. I am known as Kaguya." The woman spoke.

"Okay… I'm Harry Potter." The boy introduced himself. "Now tell me, what the hell are you three doing in my mind?"

"I will admit… it is an unusual occurrence." Hagoromo rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "You were born as our reincarnation. True, you inherited our blood, but it had been so diluted that it was unlikely that out Bloodline Limits would ever awaken in you, never mind our chakra."

"Bloodline Limits? Chakra?" Harry repeated the unfamiliar terms.

"Bloodline Limits are abilities passed down through blood… like the Serpent Tongue you can use." Hamura provided.

"Like Parseltongue, huh?" Harry mussed to himself.

"As for Chakra… well, you may think of it as a more potent form of magic power, though your magic is somewhat lacking in the physical energy and is mostly spiritual." Kaguya added.

"I see… but you haven't answered my question." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I believe…" Hamura began, only to be interrupted by Kaguya.

"To put it simply, when your mother died she left her magic in you to protect you. When Tom Riddle's body was destroyed, a bit of his soul and all his magic latched onto you but was contained and sealed away by your mother's magic as it recognized Riddle's soul." She said.

"Yeah… Dumbledore said Voldemort left some of his powers in me… but he didn't think he left all of it…" Harry thought as he rummaged though memories that were not his own but Voldemort's and Dumbledore's.

"Yes. At any rate, when that Dementor tried to take your soul on the train, it took Voldemort's soul fragment instead, allowing both his magic and your mothers to merge with your own." Kaguya continued. "What it did was to essential make your magic incredibly stronger as well as awaken as many Bloodline Limits you have in your ancestry. The awakening of the Rinnegan, the Samsara Eye, that you inherited from Hagoromo allowed you to drain the magic and souls from the Dementor that attacked you, increasing your power further and evolving your Rinnegan into my Rinne-Sharingan, the Samsara Copy Wheel Eye, and Hamura's Byakugan, the White Eye, into his Tenseigan, the Reincarnation Eye."

"These memories I have… where did they come from?" Harry asked in wonder as he went through some of them."

"While the Rinnegan allows you to read to souls you touch, my Rinne-Sharingan allows you to also read the chakra or magic you absorb. A person's magic caries their memories." Kaguya said rather smugly.

"Wait… why do I have Dumbledore's memories then?" Harry frowned. "I understand mom and Voldemort's, even those sets of memories that seem a bit fragmented since they're probably from the souls the Dementor ate… but why do I have the magic of most of the Hogwarts teachers in me?"

"That is because you are dying, child." Hagoromo said gravely. "Your body simply cannot handle containing so much magic at once."

"Unfortunately though, those fools are doing more harm then good." Kaguya sneered. "Rather then trying to drain magic out of you, they are worsening your condition by adding their own."

"Perhaps it is better this way." Hagoromo sighed. "Power like yours would create ripples in the current world. It would only lead to conflict."

"So I should just die?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"One man's life, against the lives of countless others that may die in conflict." Hamura shook his head. "There is no comparison."

"For the Greater Good, eh?" Harry glared, the memories Dumbledore had tied to those particular words coming to the fore.

"Self-Sacrifice is what the Ninja Sect that they founded is based on." Kaguya scoffed. "That is what they considered ideal Shinobi."

"And it was those Shinobi that followed in out footsteps and sealed you the second time mother. Have you forgotten already?" Hamura's taunting response was heard.

"Yes, and it took four of them to do it while the first time you two were enough." Kaguya narrowed her eyes, a smirk appearing on her dark red lips. "I do wonder, had I been freed again, would it had taken eight Shinobi to seal me again, or more? No matter." she shook her head. "The truth is that after my second sealing, the Ninja Sect decayed and disappeared within centuries, unlike the first time around when it bloomed. Humans had become weaker and weaker until the few that held any powers are barely any better then those that don't."

"Witches and Wizards compared to Muggles, you mean." Harry understood.

"Indeed." Kaguya confirmed. "Unlike what your history books say today, that Merlin fellow was not some god among wizards. No, he was quite average. What made him special is that he brought wand-lore into the British Isles. With wands, British wizards no longer had to resort to long and incommode rituals to accomplish anything of worth. A few words, some focus and voila, they could spells like archers shot arrows."

"And despite all that, they still had to resort to the Statute of Secrecy to survive." Harry nodded in understanding. "Were ninja really that amazing?"

"A Chunin, a middle-rank ninja, would have been on par with Albus Dumbledore in his prime." Kaguya shrugged.

"What about me? The power I have right now?" Harry inquired.

"Hm… if it were to stabilize properly… and your body adapted to it…" Kaguya mussed as she extended her senses "Somewhere around high Chunin with Kage level reserves. As much power as you may have, you don't know any jutsu or spells to use that require truly large amounts of power, plus you don't know how to properly use that much power. A glass cannon, as Muggles would say…" she paused and all four of them realized the cause.

The silvery water beneath them had turned pure white, illuminating the darkness even further.

"This… this is…?" Hagoromo whispered in shock.

"To think he went this far…" Hamura was in a similar state.

"Well, well, it appears that you won't be dying after all. For quite some time, in fact." Kaguya mussed.

"What do you mean, what hap…" he paused as a memory struck him, one of Dumbledore's, that told him what had most likely happened. "Panacea?" he whispered in shock. "Why would he… oh." He sighed. "Oh course, the prophecy. Can't have the Chosen One die before he vanquishes the Dark Lord."

"You do not sound surprised." Hamura frowned.

"In my first year he used the Philosopher Stone to not only bait Voldemort, but also to test me. In my second year he allowed the school to marginalize me in order to see how I work under pressure. I had realized this to some extent even before I gained his memories." Harry admitted before scowling darkly. "The fact that he allowed me to grow up at the Dursleys actually hoping they abused me a bit so that I wouldn't be as outspoken or confident as Voldemort or my parents… oh, I'll make him pay for that. He will regret keeping me alive. I'll make sure of it. Everyone in my life has manipulated me in some way. No more, I guarantee it. And while I'm at it, I will change this world. The Wizarding world at least."

"Yet you cannot do so on your own." Hagoromo stated. "You need someone to guide you, to teach you how to use your power."

"To teach you how to control yourself, to teach you restraint." Hamura added firmly.

"Yes, I do." Harry softly agreed as he slowly walked up to the two floating old men… and grabbed their shoulders, causing them to become transparent as their power was drawn into Harry, the tomoe of his crimson eye spinning angrily. "But it will not a couple of manipulative old fools who were taking solace in my oncoming death minutes before!"

"Yes, I think I can guide him in reshaping this world perfectly." Kaguya all but purred as she ruffled his hair proudly. "I may no longer be able to shape the world myself, but a heir I can groom."

"Wait… you do not know what she has done… what she can do!" Hagoromo cried desperately as his image wavered more and more, Hamura having already been fully absorbed.

"I know perfectly, Hamura's memories were quite helpful in that." Harry countered. "But I would still have her over you. You who stood aside and preached of peace while doing nothing to achieve it. You're just like Dumbledore with the Muggle-Born: he says he wants to give them equal rights and opportunities, yet does nothing to that end despite his position in the government, allowing more and more racist and discriminatory law to be passed every year. Even in the halls of Hogwarts, he does nothing to stop or at least punish the purebloods who bully the muggle-born, letting Snape abuse them all in that farce he calls Potions Class. I don't care he was mom's friend, he chose his way in life and whatever regrets he may have will not wash away the innocent blood he had spilled. It will not make me forgive him for sending Voldemort after me and Neville, destroying our families. I will never forgive him, and I will make sure he pays for it!" Harry declared with a growl as Hagoromo's image finally disappeared as his energy was fully absorbed by him.

"Wonderful, I have waited for hundreds of millennia to see such an expression of despair on his face!" Kaguya chuckled.

"Oh? I was under the impression that you cared for your sons despite them sealing you." Harry raised an eyebrow, his mind rapidly going through the memories of Hamura and Hagoromo as well as their Transmigrants, plus a couple Transmigrants of Hagoromo's son Indra and one of Asura's, Madara and Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki. From what he could tell, he had Madara's memories due to the man managing to become his artificial Transmigrant by stealing power from Hashirama Senju. In the case of Sasuke and Naruto, he had gained their memories when he bestowed upon them the Yin and Yang halves of his power, awakening Indra and Asura's chakra in them.

"I do. But let's face it, they are both dead and so am I. All you did was absorb some of their energy that ended up in you. I am the same, after all." Kaguya shrugged.

"You know… you are quite different from what their memories show you as." Harry remarked.

"Yes, I was rather… stiff back then. And obsessed with the ownership of chakra." Kaguya mussed as she thought back. "I still maintain that it would have been best that I remained the only one with chakra, humans have shown time and time again that they are unworthy of such power. But, my time has passed. I eventually grew tired of sleeping in the Gedo Mazo, the shell of the Shinju, and allowed my soul and chakra to pass on, becoming one with the world and existing in a similar form as Hagoromo: part of both the Pure World and this Impure World. And unlike him and Hamura, I actually chose to somewhat live through my Transmigrants rather then just glance at their lives every once in a while. Not all of them were even ninja or magic users in recent times, but I found it more comfortable then simply drifting pointlessly in nature like Hagoromo does. As fond as I am of nature, having seen the entire world as my nursery, I still long for human interaction. I find it quite amusing, to be honest, that I who once stood above all now choose to spend time among mortals while my sons who opposed my view are now as distant as I used to be." She chuckled.

"I… guess I can see why you've changed. It sounds like a boring existence." Harry admitted. "So, what should I do first?"

"Hm, let's start by organizing your new memories." Kaguya suggested. "As you have no experience with organizing your mind, it's a wonder you can access those memories so well. I could only do it with ease as I was the progenitor of chakra, and thus the linchpin of it all."

"Say… would it be possible to revive you, Kaguya?" Harry inquired. "I mean… from what can tell, most of what ninja learn would work best with a hands-on teacher rather then someone who can only advise me in my own mind. Not that I'm not grateful for the help!" he quickly added.

"That is true… but as I said, I allowed myself to pass on." Kaguya shook her head. "Even if the Gedo Mazo would respond to your summons, it will no longer do my bidding. Either way, the Biiju have long since perished, becoming part of the world and giving birth to the various magical creatures. Without them, the Gedo Mazo would be just an empty shell with me trapped within. It would have some impressive life force… however even that has likely decayed since then."

"I see." Harry sighed.

"Do not worry, I have a few ideas. For now, let us focus on structuring your mind. This Occlumency that both Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore practice will be an useful tool." She informed him.

"Alright." Harry sighed.

"Revive me, huh?" Kaguya absently mused as she helped him shape his inner world to his liking. "Now there's something I have not thought on in a long time… and these memories… hm, we shall see."

A.N.: Well, this is something that just popped into my head a while back just wouldn't let me focus on other things. I plan on continuing it, but don't expect frequent updates. I'll do what I can, but no promises.

Don't worry on Harry being too overpowered for now, he still can't use much of what he now knows without blowing himself up, as for mastering it all… yeah, this story will end a few millennia before that. That being said, he will still be stronger then the average Harry Potter character, and rather badass I'm hoping.

One thing I want to make clear though: this will be a Grey/Dark Harry, with few inhibitions. He won't be a psychopath like Bellatrix, but some of Voldemort's ruthlessness has definitely rubbed onto him.

There will be some bashing, though mostly those bashed will not be around long.

That being said, please REVIEW. I want to know what you all think of this.