[Disclaimer] I do not in any, way, shape, or form; own any rights for both Bleach and Harry Potter. I am simply enjoying myself as I smash the two universes together somewhat.

(Author Notes)This will be my first Crossover fiction. There will be no characters from the Bleach series, only ideas and themes are being borrowed and inserted into the Harry Potter universe; please enjoy.

(More Author Notes) I have done some recent editing to first few chapters to correct some mistakes that I have made, there is not change in the story


A dark figure walked through the pile of rubble that was until recently a cozy little house in a town called Godric's Hollow. The dark figure went by many names and was looking for something, a soul to be exact. For the figure clad in a long black cloak with a scythe across his back was Death, or that was simply one of the names that he went by. He had been called Death, The Grim Reaper, but it had thousands of years since anyone had actual called him his real name.

It was his job to maintain balance, to keep the cycle of birth, death and rebirth flowing, another one of his titles was a balancer. Not the most glamorous of jobs but it needed to be done, or else the world would collapse. For such a necessary service provided for free you would think that he would be thanked more often, this was not the case it seemed that almost every soul he meet was angry at him as if he was the reason why they were dead. Or the soul would do something foolish like trying to run not knowing that he was in fact there to help, so foolish to run nothing escaped him everyone would meet him at the end sooner or later.

"There you are little tike." Death said in a deep calming voice. "Poor child having to meet me at such a young age, happens too often I'm afraid."

In the middle of the rubble sat a slightly transparent baby with black unruly hair and bright green eyes. Death walked towards the boy and took the scythe off his back with a flourish.

But when Death got closer something about the infant caught his eye and it frightened him, yes strangely enough Death was scared.

A chain was attached to the baby's chest that lead into a pile of rubble just a few feet away. Death stood back and examined the boy from a few feet away, he had not seen a chain attached to a soul since balance had been achieved. Death pulled back his cowl to revile not a scull as many would have suspected but a man with short black hair, dark blue eyes and a well groomed facial hair around his upper lip and chin.

Not daring to touch the child he followed the chain into the pile of rubble. After quietly moving some pieces of wood about Death gazed upon what the other end of the chain was attached to. Cradled in the rubble lay the child's body, dirty, pale, and bloody from a jagged wound in the middle of his forehead. But most importantly it was still breathing, the boy's body was alive even with his soul expelled from him he was still alive.

This was not good he knew that he needed to guide this boy's soul over to the other side, but he could not do that unless he was dead. Balance needed to be maintained. Death thought of what to do, he could just kill the child and then guide his soul across. However he would not do that, Death had sworn long ago that he would never again kill anything that was not already dead.

Death sat down beside the infant studying him carefully he could not remember just how many years it had been since he had seen a soul chain. Not since the final battle where the last Hollows had been destroyed, and the order of spiritual energies had been changed. Hollows had been wiped out to never return, no souls would turn into hollows because they would all end up in the soul society. After the final battle the Soul Reapers no longer needed to make sure that every soul was guided across, only certain ones. With the old order each and every soul in the thousands of people that died each day would need to be guided across or else they would stay in the World of the Living and eventually become a hollow. With the new order only certain souls would be needed to continue the flow, and Harry James Potter happened to be one of those souls.

The boy seemed unremarkable but under closer inspection he felt it, pulsing from the boy was spiritual pressure. This child had strong spiritual energy, another thing not seen for millennia. Under the new order spiritual powers became nearly non existent, Souls no longer had enough spiritual pressure to do much of anything with. That's why slowly as each Soul Reaper rejoined the cycle of rebirth no new Soul Reapers replaced them, until they were all gone. All except for Death himself the last Soul Reaper.

The baby was bringing back so many memories about the past. He was a captain once, the most powerful Soul Reaper of the time. So powerful that his Zanpakutō was always in its Shikia release he could not seal his scythe back into it's katana form.

Being the last Soul Reaper was not terrible, it was not great either. Being a captain was worthless with no other to command, but he still had all the other souls in the soul society, in the Rukon district. Some of them had even become his friends.

Death pulled his thought back to the present and studied the boy further, even picking up the child. He carried the child over to his body and placed him back inside his mortal container. Nothing happened the baby's soul returned and with a twitch and a gurgling moan the child kept sleeping.

Death did not like what this could mean. This boy was strange, very strange, he had a soul chain, spiritual pressure and above all he was not dead like he should have been. Death needed to check some things, make sure that the flow of spiritual energies had not been unbalanced. He would guide several souls across tonight just to make sure. Death left the sleeping child where he lay to attend to his duties, he had a job to do, balance and order must be maintained. He would return to check on the child and to find out what had caused this oddity. The Death turned his back on the sleeping baby, and walked away. He was the last, the only balancer, the last soul reaper, he was Death.

A week later Death was fairly confident that the flow of spirit energies was still stable no newly dead soul appeared with a soul chain, and no soul chain meant no new hallows. But still the boy interested him. Was he some strange oddity, some hiccup in new order? Was it because he was supposed to be dead, but was in fact still among the living? Death did not know the answer but he was sure that sooner of later that he would have to in some way or another deal with him, it didn't help that the Department of Research and Development no longer existed since there were no other soul reapers to run it.

The child had been moved he was now staying with some relatives, in some a quite suburb the kind where most of the houses look similar and if you are not careful or drunk, you would end up entering some one else's house.

The child was being cared for, but in the loosest sense of the word. He was fed and, changed, but that was it nothing else. There were two children in the house and while one was showered with love and affection, the boy was left alone. All necessary tasks were preformed with mechanical indifference, any time the boy cried he was told to shush and the best kindness he was given was a dirty stuffed animal for company against the tears. He would not interfere if the child died from lack of care and love Death himself would have a much easier time caring for him in the soul society.

Death spent much more time watching the child than when he first expected to, much of Death's free time was spent watching the boy grow. He did not know why he spent so much time studying the boy, maybe it was curiosity, maybe he was just drawn to him, or maybe he just felt sorry for him. It was strange, in a world that lacked any significant spiritual energy the child was like a beacon in the dark, or an oasis in the desert. His spiritual pressure even seemed to be growing as his body grew, so it must not have been some fluke, the boy was truly special for one reason or the other.

The child's living conditions were terrible. As soon as he turned three years old he was moved from his crib in the spare room to a folding bed in the cupboard under the stairs, they did not even let him keep the stuffed animal, the only comfort for him when he was younger. The spare room was made into a play room for the boy's older, fatter cousin. It was filled with brightly colored toys and other trinkets, it eventual became more like a storage room almost every inch was covered in toys; broken or unused.

The cousin was a dreadful nightmare of a child, he had long since discovered that crying got him things he wanted. It was to the point that he did not have to make his crying performances convincing, and he still got his way, candy, more food, some shinny toy, it didn't matter. The cousin became pudgy and rotund looking more like a miniature Michelin Man than a toddler.

While the cousin could get away with crocodile tears, the boy could not. Every scraped knee, every nightmare that brought tears was met with a tongue lashing and maybe a smack to his hind end. Eventual the child stopped crying all together, stopped doing a lot of thing that would be considered normal for some one so young. You could see it in his eyes, there was no joy, no sparkle of youth.

The months past, the child grew. As soon as the child could walk and talk enough to understand directions his relatives had him doing chores. The boy quickly learned the difference between a good plant and a weed, if he pulled a good plant he would get yelled at and thrown into his sorry excuse for a room. Death was disgusted, they treated the boy worse than a dog. Such blatant favoritism, the cousin could do no wrong, the boy nothing right, his very existence seemed to infuriate the two adults.

Death found it hard to keep himself from interfering, it would have been very easy to lose his temper, go in there and start cleaving limbs. But the boy was a wildcard he did not know what the boy could do or actual what exactly he was, he had to keep his distance.

As time past, it seem as the relatives grew more detestable. When the boy was not doing chores or locked in the cupboard, he was silent. He might be allowed to watch television but had to sit in the corner of the room, far from his relatives, any noises even laughing at something he might think was funny and he would be told to 'Shut up' or told 'Shut up' and then thrown in to his under stair prison.

It became harder and harder not to interfere as Death watched the atrocities that the boy was put though. When his cousin punched him right in front of the two adults and then he was locked in his cupboard because his cousin complained about hurting his fist. Death almost wished that there were some Hollows around just so he could rid some of the anger in combat.

That surprised him. It had been a long time since Death had felt such strong emotions. Living for thousands of years can sometimes have that affect on you, without noticing it you wall your emotions away, keeping them locked deep inside of you. It felt good being able to feel again.

The final straw was just after the boy had turned five, he his cousin, and his aunt were at the grocery store. They were standing in line at the checkout, when an elderly woman in front of them dropped some coins. The boy quickly got down pick them up and handed them back to the woman.

"Oh aren't you a nice young lad." The woman said. "What's your name dear?"

The child gave the woman a confused look and replied "I don't know."

Then Death realized that none of his relatives had ever called him by name. Your name was important. It carried power with it, identified you. A name could be respected or loathed even feared. The boy needed to know his name.

It was decided, later that night Death descended on number 4 Privet Drive. Silently he entered and walked to the under stair cupboard that seemed to be leaking spiritual pressure. Death slowly opened the cupboard door that swung away with an ominous creak. The child sat up in his bed and looked at the cloaked figure of Death with squinted eyes. Death found it funny as the eyes grew wide in surprise, It had been a while since some one that was not dead could see him.

"So you can see me, can't you?" Death asked, in a deep smooth bass.

"Y-yes Sir." He stuttered. "Um who are you?"

Death's smile was hidden in the shadows of his cowl. "For now my name is not important, but yours is. Your name is Harry James Potter. That is the name that your parents gave you on the day you were born. That is the name that your relatives fail to call you. I know you will grow up to earn that name honor, because I will help you."

The boys eyes were wide in wonder and his mouth was slightly open.

"I'm going to leave you now, do not tell your anyone about this meeting. I will be back soon, good night Harry sleep well."

With that Death closed the cupboard door, and left as silently as he came.

The next day after Death finished his work guiding a few token souls across he returned. Just after the adults were asleep Death opened the cupboard door. Harry sat up in bed his eyes once again grew wide, Harry rubbed them in order to clear his vision. After he rubbed them his mouth dropped and he mumbled "I thought it was just a nightmare."

Death was a little curious about why a nightmare. Then he realized that it would be very frightening for a black cloaked man with a scythe strapped to his back to show up in the middle of the night. Death almost kicked himself for forgetting about how forbidding he could be.

"No Harry, you are not dreaming this is very real. You are very special Harry, let me show you."

Harry watched as Death pulled on a red fingerless red glove with a skull surrounded by blue and black flames. Death grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled, literally yanking Harry's soul out of his body. His mortal shell slumping back onto the bed.

"W-what's going on?"

"You are in your soul form. This is you without a body."

"So am I dead?" Harry said in a whisper.

"No Harry you are not dead. Look at your chest." Death pointed to the child's chest. "That chain is your chain of fate as long as it is still attached to your body you can return to it. You are not dead. But if it was severed you would be dead at least in the physical sense of the word."

Harry was looking at his soul chain and idly fingering as if to make sure it was real

"Why is this happening."

"As I said Harry you are very special the simple fact that you have a soul chain is important. I have not seen a soul chain for several millennia."

"Millennia?" Harry asked, confused by the word.

Death had to remind himself that he was dealing with a five year old. "For thousands of years. I have been around for a very long time."

"But why have you not seen a chain in that long?" Harry asked.

"A very good question I am going to explain some things and if you don't understand anything I want you to ask any questions that you have."

Death then explain to Harry about Soul Reapers. That when people died their soul was guided to the Soul Society by a Soul Reaper. Death then explain about how at one time thousands of years ago every one had a soul chain and how each and every soul had to be guided to the Soul Society, but the system of spiritual energies changed and now no one had a soul chain.

"But why did it change, and why do I have a chain?" Harry interrupted.

"Because long ago when people had soul chains and were not guided to the Soul Society, whether they hid from the Soul Reaper or for whatever reason, there was a chance that the chain given enough time would rip out and take that persons heart with it." Death tried to explain it in a way a five year old could understand. He hoped he would not traumatize the boy. "You see Harry when a soul or anybody losses his or her heart they loose all emotions, everything that makes them human is lost with their heart. The soul would become a Hollow a creature of evil and the only thing Hollows want is to fill the hole in itself by eating other souls."

Harry gasped almost comically.

Death continued explaining how Hollows were the worst enemies to Soul Reapers and that one day a giant battle was fought between every Hollow and Soul Reaper. At then end of the final battle every Hollow was defeated the remaining Soul Reapers got together and changed the flow of spiritual energies. Without any Hollows left the Soul Reapers could do that, change how spiritual energy worked. When people died their souls looked just like their bodies looked when they died. No soul chains, and with no soul chains that meant no more Hollows.

"Haven't you seen other people you could see though, people walking or floating around when you go outside or to the store?"

Harry nodded. "I one time I told my aunt about it, but she got angry threw me in my cupboard."

Death frowned. Slightly regretting his oath to never again kill anything that was not already dead. "What you saw was a soul that had yet to cross over. Some souls go to the soul society the instant they die others will stay in this world for a while but they cross over eventually its like trying to stand still in the middle of a large river. Eventual you can't fight it anymore and are swept away by the current, pulled by the flow of spiritual energies to the Soul Society. Its my job to keep the flow going, all I have to do is guide just a few souls across; not every person that dies."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Now as to why to your second question. I really don't know why you have a soul chain. You see the night when your parents died you should have died as well. I don't really know why you did not die, but I went to guide your soul to the soul society. When I found you I saw that you had a soul chain and that it was still attached to your body, so you were not dead."

"Wait, you were at the car crash my parents died at?"

"Car crash?" Death asked, mostly to himself. "Oh right that's what your relatives told you happened to your family. No, Harry your parents did not die in a car crash. They died trying to defend you from a very evil man. Alright I need to tell you some things that you don't even know about yourself. Harry besides having spiritual powers you also have magical powers."

"Magic?" Harry said in wonder. Death could tell that the boy thought having magical powers was more special than spiritual powers.

"Yes, you are what would be called a wizard. Have you even notice that strange things sometimes happen around you that make your relatives angry? Like when your cupboard door unlocked itself when you had to go to the bathroom really bad, or the weeds pulled themselves that time when you were sick, and frustrated."

Harry nodded eyes unfocused thinking about what Death said.

"You see your parents were a witch and wizard they were kill by an evil wizard that tried to kill you but when he tried to kill you his magic spell bounced off of you and hit him. That's how you got that scar on your forehead."

Harry reached for his forehead to feel his scar but found that his forehead was missing the mark.

"Its on your body." Death pointed to his body laying where he left it.

Harry looked over at his body and examined his own scar. "That's from magic?"

"Yes Harry. Now spiritual powers and magic are very different when compared with each other. While magic can be very powerful only very rare forms of magic affect the soul."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I am a soul, just like the see through ghosts you have seen before. Now lets imagine that some one cast a spell and it caught your uncle's mustache on fire."

Harry laughed a little.

"Now if some one cast the same spell on me it would do nothing, absolutely nothing. The only things that can harm me are other spiritual attacks. If some one shot me with a bullet it would not harm me because I am a soul. A lot of things are different in physical form compared to soul form, even more different when you have spiritual powers."

"How so?" Harry asked

"I think this could be best explained if you got back in your body."

Harry looked a little confused. "How do I do that?"

"Oh just climb back in lay down back into it."

Harry climbed back on his body and stuck himself back… in himself.

"Cool" Harry sat up, put his hand on his chest looking for a soul chain.

"Alright Harry lets go into the kitchen quietly." Harry got out of his cupboard and followed death into the darkened kitchen. "Now right now I am in soul form and you are in physical form. Now pick up a fruit in that bowl on the table." Death pointed to a collection of fruit.

"OK." Harry picked up a banana.

"That was easy correct." Harry nodded, giving him a odd look. "Now a soul with no spiritual powers would not be able to do that. Their hand would just pass through it, just like they can pass through walls. I however am a soul with spiritual powers."

Death picked up an apple and took a bite. "Mmm juicy. Souls with no spiritual powers cannot affect the physical world, but with my powers can; just like you. Unlike you, physical attacks cannot harm me. Do you understand?"

Harry's face was scrunched up but he nodded in understanding.

"Good now its time for you to go to sleep your physical body needs its rest. You shall see me tomorrow."

Harry curled up on his bed in his cupboard after a very tiring day. Aunt Petunia had show him how to cook breakfast. He had burns on his hand from the frying pan, and he did not get to eat breakfast, lunch or dinner. Harry had slightly burnt some of the bacon, and Aunt Petunia started screaming at him for being so careless; and she said that the burnt portions were now his. Harry would have been happy to eat slightly burnt bacon but she said it was no good anymore and threw it out. Harry lay there trying to ignore his hunger when his door opened slowly. Harry looked up and smiled at the once forbidding figure.

"Harry are you alright?" Asked the dark figure in his door.

Harry put on a brave face, trying to be strong but he failed. All of the emotions from the entire day, the hate, fear and rejection all came forward all at once. Harry started to cry, he leapt forward and wrapped his small arms around the black cloaked figure and cried into the soft dark material.

Death looked down at the small child weeping on him, his heart went out to Harry. So much pain for one so young. The last Soul Reaper wanted to do something for the boy, something to comfort him. Death then had an idea. It was a crazy idea, and he knew that he should not do it. He would have gotten in trouble for it millennia ago when there were other Soul Reapers, but something in his head convince him that it was a good idea, and he could not shake the desire to help the boy.

"Harry look at me." Death commanded.

Harry sniffed and looked up at him eyes sparkling with tears.

"Would you like to go see my home we could get out of here for a while."

Harry hiccuped wiping some tears away, he nodded.

"Well then I am going to give you some of my power. Just a small amount it will allow you to be disconnected from your body but still live. You will become somewhat like me. In order to do this you must take my scythe and thrust the blade into your heart. You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Death said, some part of him hoped that the child would be frightened and decline.

"Will it hurt?" Harry asked quietly

Death shook his head, the folds of his hood swaying.

"Ok." Harry said with a smile.

Death marveled a how trusting a child could be as he pulled his weapon off his back. He held the pole horizontal with one hand, blade pointed loosely at Harry. With some trepidation Harry put his small hands around the blade. Harry looked up at Death his face in shadow from the cloak. Sensing what the boy wanted Death pulled his hood off his head. Green eyes met blue, and Harry gave a wider smile as he looked up at him. With no fear, he took a breath and pulled the blade into his chest.

Death felt power leave him as a white light enveloped the both of them.

Everything had gone exactly as plan just the right amount of power was given. Death looked down at the small figure of Harry standing before him. It was almost comical, Harry stood in a small black hakama looking exactly the part of a miniature Soul Reaper. However Death did not give him enough power to have a Zanpakutō. He would have to earn that on his own, if he even could.

Harry looked himself over spending extra time examining his feet checking out the his foot wear that actually fit. "Wow," he said in wonder. "Thank you so very much. So what do we do now?"

"Now I take you to the Soul Society, We can only stay for the night I will have to return you in the morning. Come we need to go outside to open the gate."

Harry and Death walked outside even more silent than ghosts. Death then took his scythe and like a giant key opened the gate to the Soul Society.

Harry shielded his eyes form the bright light as he stepped out of the gate. Harry looked around.

"It's day?"

"Yes the Soul Society does not keep the same time as the World of the Living."

They stood on a gigantic rock plateau. The plateau was surrounded by vast white city, in the distance you could see a tall wall that surrounded the city.

"Come." He commanded. "I live in that castle." Death pointed to a castle that was connected to the plateau by a long bridge. "In there I have everything I need, from training grounds to food, even equipment for monitoring the World of the Living."

Harry hurried after the cloaked figure. He followed beside him along the bridge, trying to see everything at once. When he looked down he did not see any people in the streets below him, everything was empty. It was strange, he thought that such a large city would be much more busy.

"Where is everybody? Are we the only ones here?"

"Yes." Death affirmed, a barely noticeable hint of sadness in his voice. "We are the only people here, in order to live here in the Seireitei you must have strong enough spirit energy. If you don't then you cannot live here. The walls surrounding this place are made of a special rock that repels spirit energy. it puts put too much stress on your soul unless you have high enough spirit energy to resist it. Sometimes people will come in here to do work for me but the can't stay, not long at least. Once hundreds of thousands of souls lived here in the but now besides myself, you are the only person with enough spirit energy to actually live here."

Death spent the rest of the time allotted to them showing Harry around, telling him about the history of the Soul Society; history long forgotten by everyone but Death himself. When time was up he took him back to his cupboard, returning him to his body in order to spend the day with his relatives in the World of the Living.


(Author Notes) I find that in many crossovers that an author will pick two or more series that do not mix well together. In my opinion will either pass or fail depending on how the universes are combined. Many series would get a sad face on their grade school report cards. 'Does not play well with others.' You need to be true to the characters from both series, and reflect on how they would really react to a new situation with strange people with odd powers.

Ask yourself how you would react if Superman actually appeared suddenly in New York City. I'm sure that would throw the world for a loop just with that simple change.

But I have read stories where writers want to pull out the big guns and decide that they are going to make a extremely complicated crossover. For example it might be a story with Superman from D.C. Comics, Goku from Dragon Ball Z, Voldemort from Harry Potter and Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars; having a giant death match.

I would like to see who would win that fight. (My bet is Goku.) However the end result unless you have the best fiction writer EVER is a giant mess that makes little sense, and sounds like it was written on a forum page with each paragraph written by a different person. It just gets too complicated for a writer to successfully give each character any development and any possible plot is destroyed.

I plan to keep this simple a mixture of Harry Potter and Bleach. Throw Harry into Hogwarts with Soul Reaper powers and you might have a good story. Throw him in with the threat of Hollows, and Voldemort's Soul pieces: A.K.A Horocruxes. Then if I pull it off correctly I might have a great story.