Disclaimer: Naruto is the work of mangaka Masashi Kishimoto, Harry Potter is the work of author J.K. Rowling. The author makes no claim to ownership of the aforementioned works and no profit from this fanfiction.
Of Births, Beginnings and Foretidings...
Uchiha Fukurou was conceived when at the same moment, in another universe, Old Man Potter died. The death of the retired Minister for Magic was met with widespread grief and yes, in some circles, jubilation. The birth of the former however, went largely unremarked. His mother perished due to blood loss at childbirth. Born into a time of conflict, his father had been killed months before in one of the many skirmishes that would presage the start of the Third Shinobi War.
He was accepted into the household of his father's younger brother and his new guardians loved him as if he were their own child. No one else in the Uchiha Clan cared much for the orphan either way, for he was just one of many and in the eyes of some, not particularly worthy of note. This was due to the fact that although Fukurou was unusually bright for his age, at least according to his adopted parents, the boy had inherited his mother's eyes rather than his father's. Eyes that were an oddly vibrant green hue so unlike the dark, flinty grey of his kin. The odds of him becoming a sharingan wielder were judged to be abysmally low and as such, the interest from his clan's elders was minimal.
This was hardly what he imagined the next great adventure to be like. There was a moment of peace, relief even, as all his burdens drifted away and the little accumulated aches and pains of mortal existence faded to nothing. His soul found its way to the pure world a white void where he existed for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he remembered… something… It was peaceful anyway, being dead was the most relaxing thing imaginable.
Harry's last hour had been spent in a state of contentment as he prepared for sleep, his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren all alive and merry. Almost as if in contrast, his awakening had been unpleasant and chaotic. Harry found himself greatly weakened and his mind muzzy as hands lifted him bodily, jostling him about. His mind recoiled from contact with this, impure world he found himself in, smelling of sweat and blood. His last conscious memory of that time was of a warm embrace and a tired voice that proclaimed...
"Fukurou, his name is Uchiha Fukurou."
Uchiha Fukurou opened his eyes with a quiet sigh, thinking of his predicament served only to confuse him. He had awoken before dawn as was his habit, had been his habit… in another life and this one as well. He folded his futon and carefully put it away. Today, he would be attending the Shinobi Academy an issue that he had mixed feelings on. On one hand, he would be getting free basic education and possibly insight into the magic of this world. On the other hand, free basic education included knowing the best ways to kill someone with a trowel- sorry kunai.
This world that he had found himself in, or to be more specific, had been reincarnated into; was one where the threat of war was only a skirmish or two away from breaking out. While admittedly the scale of the conflicts was pathetically small compared to world of his past life, he was in the unique position of being groomed into a child soldier of sorts. From what he understood, small or not, as a shinobi those conflicts would inevitably involve him.
After a bath and a mild struggle with his hair, Fukurou made his way into the family kitchen where his aunt Yuriko was already preparing for the day. The six year old drew up a low bench and stood upon it next to his aunt who greeted him with a fond smile. In another life perhaps, Fukurou may have resented having morning chores like helping with the cooking. Now, though, he worked with a smile. The teapot simmered as he chopped leafy vegetables under his aunt's watchful eye.
This had started a year earlier, with the then five year old sitting down to watch his aunt prepare for the day. Little by little he had helped her out, fetching things from the cupboards and such. Eventually, there was no opposition to him using the stove or holding a knife while Aunt Yuriko was there with him. With Uncle Danjo often on deployment, Aunt Yuriko often spent her days working about the house and caring for Fukurou. She often worried about her husband and tried to mask that worry by playing 'ninja' with him. Fukurou couldn't help but feel for the woman and so did what he could to help out with the chores; her nephew's level-headedness had allowed it to pass into routine. Aunt Yuriko ended up kissing the blushing boy and called him a darling child. He found that being appreciated was nice.
The commencement ceremony had been an interesting affair. Uncle Danjo made it back in time to stand for him among the crowd of parents. While the young, new Hokage gave the opening speech Fukurou's eyes glanced about. Standing at the head of the row, to the left was the son of the current clan head, Itachi. The boy's father, Fugaku had spoken to his Uncle for a time and spared a few curt words in Fukurou's general direction. Itachi had been silent throughout the meeting though seeming curious about this cousin he hadn't yet met. Now the boy stood listening with seeming impassiveness to the Yondaime. Fukurou felt pity for him, the pressure of being the son of the clan head probably wasn't an easy load to bear. The whispered comments about the boy had been nostalgic.
Fukurou's own reticence was due to his wish not to draw undue attention to his unusual mental maturity. From overheard conversations between his guardians, he hadn't been quite successful. Fortunately it was brushed off as his heritage as a ninja showing through, a far more likely scenario than being a one hundred and fifty year old wizard from another dimension, reincarnated in the body of a child. Practicing occlumency helped him keep in character; and it also seemed to reduce the bouts of disorientation that he at times experienced upon awakening, when dreams of a lifetime of magic fled from his eyes.
In the end Fukurou decided that he would become a ninja. Assignment to the Military Police Forces was a common career for Uchiha shinobi and one that suited Fukurou's sensibilities. He did, technically, have a lifetime of experience in law enforcement after all. Furthermore, Fukurou had never quite shed Harry Potter's 'Saving People Thing' this option allowed for a less morally ambiguous lifestyle than that of a common ninja. With that in mind, for the next year Fukurou devoted himself to training and learning about the world he now lived in.
It was the Genin Exams...
"Next! Uchiha, Fukurou!"
Fukurou stepped forward and eyed the targets arrayed before him. His hand-eye coordination had grown ever keener with the perfect eyesight that this body afforded. Ten targets, he aimed, drew a breath and in a fluid movement threw the weapons as he exhaled. Ten bulls-eyes, he picked up the practice shuriken and did it again. It was a perfect score. Awed whispers followed him on the way back to stand with his fellows and he fell into an occlumency based impassivity to kill a blush before it showed on his pale cheeks. The name Uchiha was bandied about before a hush fell. Everyone knew what was coming next.
Fukurou closed his eyes in contemplation, already knowing the result from the sound of metal sinking into wood. Occlumency was helpful not just in organizing his mind but the practice of it left him in firm control of his emotions. He'd been at home when the Nine-Tails had attacked. Just like that, at six and a half, Fukurou had been orphaned again. Losing family that he loved and remembered fondly was crushing. Fukurou took up residence in an apartment above the shop of another relative who worked outside the main compound. He paid for it using the village fund for orphans attending the shinobi academy. It had taken some convincing to get his way but Fukurou's sheer stubbornness had won him his independence.
The Senbei store owner and his wife hadn't given up entirely in wanting to care for him but Fukurou's new loss made him leery of familial connections. Instead, he focused on his training, with particular interest in assessing what magical skills he had retained from his life as Harry Potter. In the privacy of his second floor apartment he scoured his mind, using occlumency to help dredge up details of the spells he had known. Occlumency also helped him deal with his grief, his older self had lost many friends to conflict and time, reviewing his memories of both lives placed things into perspective and his own experience gave him hope that Uncle Danjo and Aunt Yuriko were having a merry time wherever in the hereafter that they'd moved onto.
He stepped into room and immediately felt the tickle of mental magic, a component of what people of this world called chakra, touch upon his shields. As an Occlumens, recognizing and defeating genjutsu was child's play. The world tried to distort around him, and a burst of illusionary flame sprung into existence, transparent and ghostly figures and terrain surrounded him. He ignored it all and clasped his hands as a sharp burst of chakra dispelled the illusion before the door was even closed.
He turned then to watch his grinning sensei mark down something on a clipboard.
"Well done, Fukurou-kun! Send in your cousin after you leave."
As he left, he heard the excited murmurs.
"Once in a lifetime prodigy, huh?"
In the year since the death of his uncle and aunt, more and more of his relatives had moved back into the clan compound. Doing so might have been unavoidable for Fukurou if it wasn't for the modified Fidelus Seal he placed on the ruins of an abandoned cottage he'd found out in the village outskirts. As he had yet to develop a sharingan and wasn't really expected to, little interest was paid to his comings and goings. That wasn't entirely true but Uncle Teyaki had declared Fukurou an adult in the eyes of the clan when the latter mastered the Grand Fireball technique his uncle had taught him. Learning the skill had been a condition for gaining permission to live on his own, he was sure his uncle had expected it to take longer for him to master the technique but the man ruefully kept his word.
He'd still only been an adolescent after all.
A clearing in the woods near his home had served as a training ground. He'd tentatively mastered the academy jutsu and worked upon his own skills tirelessly. A habit gained from a lifetime in law enforcement made sure that he trained both body and mind. He held off on trying to apparate, though he had a good feeling that he still could do it. In spite of the interchangeable way that he internally referred to magic and chakra, the two weren't exactly the same thing.
Anyone in this world could use chakra to a degree, compared to the fraction of magic adept people from the world of his past. Also using 'too much' magic left one exhausted but it didn't kill or shorten a person's lifespan as he'd learned of chakra exhaustion in the academy. Apparently apparition was very different from the high speed movement that he'd seen some shinobi use, teleportation was a high-level time space manipulation technique vaguely described in a few Clan history texts that spoke about the Yondaime. He didn't want to try something and not have it work, or worse. He very much doubted that this world's medical technology would be able to save him from a bad splinching.
"-and Itachi, step into the ring."
Fukurou couldn't help the pit that grew in his stomach at the announcement although he really should have seen it coming. The two students that had blazed through the war-time three year academy curriculum in one year were a natural measuring stick for each other. The two boys stepped forward and faced each other in a chalk ring drawn on tight-packed earth. They watched each other closely with matching looks of apathy as the examiner prepared to call the match. While Itachi had been heavily tutored, Fukurou got by with a lifetime's worth of experience, adapted with academy taijutsu instruction to the dimensions of a smaller body.
Itachi blurred forward with a punch, it was an opening move that often caught his year-mates off guard. The punch was a feint and Fukurou slapped the first fist aside when he caught the other as it tried to slip in under his guard. The two boys broke apart and began to circle each other warily. This wasn't an ideal fight for Fukurou, Itachi was a natural at hand to hand combat with skills that had been expertly polished for a genin. Fukurou had grown adept enough at taijutsu to beat other older, students but he preferred mid to long range combat, a vestige of his experiences as a wizard.
They had both been taught in the academy, the basic uses of chakra. Simply asking the right questions of clansmen had netted them each chakra exercises meant to build up control. As he had aged, Harry had learned to use magic to mildly enhance his old body as a means to deal with the rigors of time. These memories allowed Fukurou, with minor instruction in chakra control techniques, to enhance his speed and power. Such was Itachi's genius that the other boy understood and started replicating what Fukurou was doing in the middle of the third exchange of blows. Fukurou had spent months practicing the more impressive moves that Itachi recreated in seconds.
Still, regardless of what he had been, Fukurou's body was nonetheless that of a young, well trained ninja. He rolled under a high kick and slapping a hand against the earth, tried to kick the other boy's leg out from under him. Itachi used his momentum to make a small hop that led to him artfully kicking out at Fukurou's head again. Catching the boy's foot in both hands, Fukurou huffed as he pushed Itachi off. His opponent flipped to the ground and dug in his heels as the two boys performed a leaping kick and met in midair. Itachi and Fukurou struck each other and harshly they shot apart, hitting the ground and rolling the boys came to a stop and leapt to their feet, ready to do more violence.
"Winner, Uchiha Itachi."
The two looked confused for a moment before nodding. Fukurou looked down and saw that he was outside the ring. Itachi gave a rare smile and tapped the corner of his eye. Fukurou blinked away the slight stinging sensation that he had thought was sweat getting into his eyes. The chunin examiner whispered softly, staring at Fukurou's face, "Sharingan…" He uttered.
Fukurou nudged his forehead protector, not quite yet used to the feel of it. The academy yard was filled with students and parents. Some cried excitedly, others quietly left while crying. Uchiha Fugaku awaited him at the academy gate, Itachi standing to one side. Fukurou respectfully greeted the head of his clan. The greeting, this time was far less curt and the boy politely waited to see what the older man wanted though he desperately wished to find Uncle Teyaki and tell him the good news.
Fugaku quickly got to the point, "Itachi tells me that you have come into your heritage, I'm wondering if you could show me."
Fukurou had had only a few minutes to test out the activation of his bloodline after his first, accidental display. It took him a moment of concentration, but from the sudden sharp clarity of his vision he knew what it was that Fugaku and Itachi saw. A single tomoe swirled about each pupil as his green iris turned blood red. Normally showing one's sharingan was construed as a silent threat, but he was simply following the other man's command. The dark grey eyes that he gazed into seemed impassive but suddenly Fukurou knew Fugaku's thoughts, felt the man's surprise and resolve to pay closer attention the this child that stood before him. Fukurou saw an image of Itachi and another boy seemingly deep in conversation.
"Perhaps, Shisui and Itachi aren't such lonely prodigies after all?"
The shock of having another's mental voice echo within his own mind caused him to flinch and stop the doujutsu abruptly. Fugaku spoke with slight concern, "For one so young to awaken the sharingan is quite an achievement but be careful in its use. The drain of the doujutsu may take some time to get used to. Please feel free to make use of the clan training fields in your free time. I'm sure you'll find many of our clansmen willing to help in your training. I expect great things of you Fukurou-kun."
To Itachi the man simply said, in a meaningful tone, "And of you as well my son."
Fukurou stood watching their retreating backs, feeling as though he'd been pulled into something... inescapable.
AN: Been a while since I've posted here, I wanted to try out a few new writing tactics and get into the flow of things. I haven't actually stopped writing so much as I've been working on improving my practices. This is more in the style of short, hopefully, well written chapters.