This is a crossover between Inuyasha and Harry Potter with Harry as the main character. It will contain yaoi (also known as slash). The first few chapters will be in the Inuyasha universe, but I'll later add the Wizarding World, don't worry. Inuyasha chatacters like Kagome, Inuyasha himself and others will be introduced later on in the story, so no sweat. The main pairing I'm thinking about is Harry/Sesshoumaru, I just don't think it's been done enough, and it's such a hot pairing. There will be a few time skips at the beginning, but be patient with me. I've planned this fic pretty far ahead and have some quite good (in my humble opinion) ideas. For further information, read on!
It's funny, the way people believe in God. Or, to be more specific, the passion with which those that believe in a higher being governing our lives, think of said deity in terms of 'he'. What those believers don't seem to realize, is that life, or Fate, or God, or whatever, doesn't really have the characteristics of a 'he'. If there were a higher being up there, wouldn't it be much more logical if it were a 'she'? I mean, let's face it, how many times have we heard the saying 'Life's a bitch'?
That same saying would once more prove the truth behind it through the life and experiences of a very special someone. A certain person, who later in his life would muse that perhaps he had been chosen as a plaything by Lady Fate herself.
Listen well, my faithful audience, for I am about to tell you the story of the life of one Harry Potter, who had everything taken from him, just to have it chucked back into his face along with more than he could have ever expected.
Most of you would expect our story to begin in Surrey, or at least England. But the setting for the upcoming drama wasn't even located in the Cradle of Civilization, Europe. It all, in fact, started in The Land of the Rising Sun, the beautiful island of Japan.
It was a warm, sunny day. Not a single cloud marred the splendor of the clear blue heavens. The wind rustled through the sakura trees in front of the Higurashi shrine, scattering the soft, pink petals every which way. It was a busy time for the small shrine at the top of the hill, as groups of tourists were swarming the steep steps, taking pictures of their surroundings and the eccentric old man, who was waving small pieces of paper he called sutras around, and happily telling ancient stories of demons and mikos to anyone who would listen.
Among those throngs of tourists was a certain family. They were perfectly normal-looking at first glance. The husband was a bit (politely said) porky, with blonde hair, beady blue eyes, and a rather impressive set of moustaches. From afar, he actually resembled a walrus, but other than that, he wasn't all that interesting. The wife, on the other hand, was rather on the skinny side, with a long neck that was remarkably helpful in her favorite activity- spying on her neighbors back in her home town. She looked like a horse, plainly put. Lastly, the son. He'd obviously taken after his father in the body-mass department, as his jacket's buttons looked about ready to burst. His expression betrayed his quite impressive lack of brains and his watery blue eyes, barely visible through the fat in his face, were squinting around suspiciously. He was, as incredible as it may sound, his parents' pride and joy.
Yes, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were quite normal-looking, as far as you average English family goes. On the surface. For although you wouldn't think so at first, there was one more member of their family. He wasn't really a Dursley, but he was entrusted in their rather dubious care. A small, slim child of no more than six, stood meekly behind the large frame of his Uncle Vernon, trying to be as silent and unobtrusive as humanly possible.
The child had delicate, feminine features. Pale, flawless skin covered high cheekbones and plump, pink lips. A pair of round, thick-framed glasses, were perched on a straight, slightly upturned nose, but still couldn't quite hide the brilliant emeralds shining brightly behind the thick lenses. The hair was pitch black, standing at odd angles in every direction. It was soft as silk though, despite its spiked look. The only flaw in the child's face was a jagged, lightning shaped scar above its right eyebrow, partially hidden by the fringe of raven black hair. The small figure was impossible to distinguish clearly, as it was covered by clothes at least a few sizes too big. Quite the contrast, compared with the rest of the family's tidy, clean, fitting clothes.
Harry Potter was an orphan. His parents had died in a car crash. Drunk drivers, his Aunt Petunia had told him. He wasn't really sure he believed her, a certain dream about a flash of green light and a voice begging for his life told him there was more to the story than he was being told. He'd been living with his only remaining relatives since he could remember though, so he kept his mouth shut. He knew he was barely tolerated as it was, if the harsh words, periodical starvation and occasional beatings weren't proof enough, the cupboard he slept in and the fact that he only got his cousin's old clothes to wear, were.
Harry didn't know who had left him in the gentle care of his relatives, but he did know he didn't like them very much, and if he ever got the chance to meet them, he'd tell them as much. He was never included in family pictures, and he even more rarely addressed as anything more than 'Boy'. The only reason he knew his own name was because he'd accidentally stumbled upon his birth certificate while cleaning up the attic.
So, after all this, one would wonder how come he was in Japan, on a holiday, with his 'family', out in a public place. Quite simple really. Ever since little Harry could remember, he'd been told he was a freak of nature. He'd been able to do strange things, things like growing out his chopped off hair overnight, things like floating his broken, old toys in the air, things that the Dursleys classified as abnormal. He didn't know how or why he could do these things, but because he could, his relatives never left him alone in the house. They were too afraid he'd do something like blow up the place or turn the lawn neon pink with his freakish powers and alert the neighbors of his existence, thus ruining all their chances at a normal life. So instead, Harry was dragged to every family outing and holiday, told to shut his mouth and not do anything freakish or else, and kept in the background.
And that's how little Harry Potter had ended up at the Higurashi shrine, accompanying his relatives on their most recent holiday in Japan. The child, although shy and meek when in public, couldn't help but stare at the exotic sites all around him in awe. Harry had always been a curious creature, it was in his nature. He was very smart for his young age and was utterly fascinated by all the new things he could now observe, while his aunt and uncle sniffed contemptuously, and his cousin sneered disdainfully.
"Listen up, boy" Vernon suddenly hissed at him, grabbing the back of Harry's overlarge T-shirt "We're going inside, to take pictures of my adorable Duddles. You stay here, don't move, and don't do anything abnormal, or you don't want to know what I'll do to you! Freaks like you aren't welcome!"
With that, the obese man let go rather roughly of the child's too large clothing and stomped away. Petunia primly sniffed and scampered to catch up, while throwing her nephew one last disdainful look. Dudley snorted out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a pig squealing and trotted after his parents, brushing past his cousin hard enough to knock the frail looking boy to the ground.
Harry didn't really notice. He was still in a slight stupor- his uncle rarely threw more than one sentence his way, except when he was shouting at him for something he'd presumably done wrong. That was four whole sentences right now! A new reord.
Shaking his head to clear it of the too cynical for his age thoughts, Harry got back to his feet and dusted off his overlarge pants. Looking around the now mostly empty courtyard, he snorted quietly to himself.
'No way am I staying here. It's boring!' He thought 'I'll just look around, I won't touch anything. They won't even notice I've been gone anyway, too busy with their Duddles, the fat tub of lard…'
He knew his thoughts were often times more sarcastic and even bitter than those of others his age, but he blamed it on the way he'd been brought up and the fact that he'd never had anyone other than himself to complain to and confide in. He'd learned from a young age to trust only his own person. People would be surprised to find out that such an innocent looking child had such a mature outlook on life. He never dared defy his atrocious relatives openly, but whenever he knew he could get away with it, he did things his way. He was sly like that.
So, his decision made, Harry took one last look around the sunlit courtyard to make sure his relatives were really nowhere in site, and scampered off in the direction of a few sakura trees that had caught his attention earlier. They weren't as big as the tree he'd heard the old, in his opinion crazy, man refer to as the Goschinboku, but they had big trees back in England too. The cherry trees in bloom here seemed more different than anything else he'd ever seen and that had piqued his interest. As already mentioned, he was curious by nature, he couldn't help himself.
Finally in the blessed shade of the beautiful trees, Harry took his time to appreciate the few Dursley-free moments he had, lounging in the luscious green grass. He'd always loved nature and open spaces. He had a suspicion it had something to do with the fact he'd spent most of his conscious days in the confines of a dark, tiny old closet.
His tense body gradually relaxing under the soft chirping of a few birds, Harry hummed a little tune and decided to again indulge his curiosity by exploring the space behind the actual shrine building. His humming came to an abrupt stop as he caught site of another structure. One he hadn't noticed before. It looked like a small wooden cabin, though something told him its purpose wasn't to house people. Vines and other plants grew around and over it, giving the small shack a wild look.
All that was really interesting, yes, but it wasn't what had caught Harry's attention so thoroughly. It was the feeling he got while looking at it. It was as if a steady pulse was coming from the wooden structure, a vibration of sorts. He didn't feel it with his body exactly, it was more like the strange…almost heartbeat was in synch with his own suddenly racing heart. It was wonderful, in a weird sort of way. Harry felt like he suddenly wasn't quite so alone anymore, like there was a shadow of a presence there with him. A presence that made him feel safe and wanted, emotions he didn't have experience with.
Without his knowledge, Harry's breath had caught in his throat, and his eyes prickled with unshed tears. He felt strangely content and warm all of a sudden and it was all so overwhelming for him, someone who hadn't relied on anyone but himself for so long…
He took a step forward, his mind in a haze. He felt lightheaded, as if he was some sort of a detached entity, observing as his body slowly but surely covered the distance between himself and the strange little cabin. The pulse he felt with the very core of his being was getting stronger with every hesitant step he took. By the time he reached the wooden shack, he was almost panting, his whole body shaking with the strangely soothing vibrations. Slowly, Harry reached a slightly sweaty hand to the door of the cabin, ignoring the alarm bells blaring at the back of his mind.
Distantly, the small part of his foggy brain that was still capable of some coherent thought, warned him that entering a strange, pulsating building behind a shrine located on a foreign continent (or island as the case may be), let alone country, wasn't the smartest or safest of ideas, but Harry had never been the type to listen to that part of his mind. So he swallowed hard, and, in a show of great bravery and rebellion for his young six years, gently put his hand on the door.
Immediately, the pulsing and vibrating stopped. In fact, the whole place had turned unnaturally quit. Harry couldn't hear the birds' songs, or the wind rustling through the trees. It was utter, deathly silence. But the child wasn't scared. He was used to the silence. So he pushed the door open and peered into the darkness.
Letting go the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Harry stepped inside the dusty old cabin. It was a well. He'd been right, the wooden shack wasn't meant to house people, instead, right in its middle, stood an old well.
Harry frowned. Why would anyone want to put a well inside of a cabin? Was it some sort of a special well, or was it just something Japanese people did? Shaking his head to clear it of his earlier, now seemingly silly thoughts and feelings, Harry cautiously approached the well.
"Pft" He snorted "All that for a silly old well. I bet it doesn't even have any water."
He said it more to break the tense silence than for the sake of the statement, but he didn't bother to check and see whether or not the well was really dry. The earlier feelings of warmth and contentment were now replaced with unease. Just as he turned to leave the small shack though, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Startled, he spun back around again. The alarms in the back of his head were back. He ignored them again.
Taking a few suspicious steps, Harry saw it more clearly now. A small flicker of light from within the depths of the well.
"Okay, this is getting weird." He murmured, then added "Even by my standarts."
But he sucked up the last of his courage and peered over the rim of the weird-even-by-his-standarts well. There it was! He hadn't been hallucinating because of lack of food again! A little silver spark twinkled in the very bowels of the well! Harry watched it intently, his fears forgotten and the former feelings of belonging gradually returning. He was so caught up in observing the little spark that he didn't even notice as it got bigger and brighter to the point where it was no longer a spark, but a steady glow.
With a start, Harry noticed the pulsing was back, stronger than ever. In fact, Harry realized quite abruptly, it had been back for a while now. The confused child could even swear that his teeth were chattering because of the vibrations. Before he could do anything more than widen his eyes though, the strange glow pulsed one more time, bright enough to illuminate the whole well house for a second, and Harry was gone along with the receding light. Not even a trace remained of the raven-haired child.
No alarms went off, no cries of distress and fright were heard. No one would even notice the six-year-old's disappearance for another five years. And although Harry Potter wouldn't be seen for more than a decade, when the supposed Savior of the Wizarding World turned up again, it would be millennia for him.