~~author'snotesoverse

alright (imaginary) readers this is my first ever fanfic that i've felt was worth letting others read, so i'd be grateful for any advice, recomendations and such.

Harry won't be going off to téméraire land just yet, as he is he'd be eaten alive, so he'll be having a pit stop in the narutoverse, and anywhere else i can fit him and still make sense.

if you need a disclaimer, just look up at the blue bit that says fanfiction.


~~potterverse

It was winter, a while past midday, a dazzling sun shone down, surprisingly warm, as if to try to mitigate the wind's biting cold. There had been an unseasonably heavy snowfall; all the rooftops and gardens were the same uniform white. Not even the tips of the tallest strands of grass peaked out, although the snow had not yet reached the depth were it lost it's characteristically bumpy aspect.

The only person braving the temperature, well into the negatives, was a small boy, who looked to be around four. He wore two overly large jumpers, reaching past his knees, but they did little to spare him from the icy bite of the wind. He huddled beneath a bush, taking what little shelter it could provide.

The boy knew he was not normal, he'd had it all explained to him. He could better resist falls, injuries, extreme temperatures and lack of food. It was therefore normal that his normal, more fragile cousin receive more care, food and money. If he did or mentioned anything "freakish", he would be taken away and experimented on.

Nevertheless, this knowledge was not truly comforting. He was somehow responsible for the sofa's new colour. He had been allowed thirty seconds of magnanimity to grab the jumpers, before being banished to the backyard.

So he huddled crouched under a bush, worrying about chilblains, jumper drawn down to his knees, curling up as small as he could.

He could almost feel warm, protected. He closed his eyes, basking in the feeling. He avoided thinking that this was not normal, that he should stop, and rode the feeling until the end.

His magic gathered about him, cocooning him, until it condensed in a pearly shimmering substance, hardening to resemble an egg made of mother of pearl, rapidly darkening to a queer grey texture.

Panicking at the sudden strangeness and vague claustrophobia, Harry struggled, kicking, and ramming his head against the shell.

The shell suddenly gave, tumbling out, Harry squawked finding himself upended, staring at painfully blue sky. But still he felt, if not warm passably cool in opposition to being in fear of hypothermia. So he felt pleased, until he made to stand that is. His limbs, while strong felt strangely short, and his body too long.

He whimpered, he should have heeded his aunt's commands and refused anything out of the ordinary. Harry looked down at himself, then further down, as he seemed to have acquired a tail, as long as the rest of his body, long neck included. To either side huge wings stopped him from righting himself by rolling.

He drew in a breath, readying himself for a sigh, but his surprise at the amount of air he was capable of inhaling was surpassed by the feeling of growing lightness.

Struggling again, he was surprised to feel himself lift with every movement of his wings, not quite like a balloon, but with more ease than any bird.

He twisted round, ecstatic, until he realised that he was drifting off, every slight tremor of his wings sending him in a new direction. He panicked, emptying all his lungs and air sacs and various cavities, which caused acrid smoke to billow out of his mouth and nostrils, proving to be scalding, the snow in front of him melting almost instantly, and lowering him to the ground, gracelessly, but safe.

Harry perked up instantly, obviously the strange deeper breath was what allowed such a big creature as a dragon to fly, and when he grew up, he would be able to spit fire and do all sorts of amazing things, that no one normal could ever do. For once, Harry was grateful that he was different. Being a dragon explained so many things, well, except for the colour changing, but what was a little extra blue and green compared to the awesomeness of flying.

The little hatchling was nearly vibrating in excitement, maybe now he would be able to have friends, maybe meet some more of his kind, fly across the world. Maybe magic was real. He sometimes had flashes of recollection or dreams, perhaps they were memories, perhaps his parents were important, or alive in hiding.

Harry shook himself, his parents were dead, if they weren't, it would mean that they didn't want him, didn't love him. He put these unhappy thoughts out of his mind. Marvelling instead at his greatly improved sight, looking at the birds flying past, then amusing himself by trying (unsuccessfully) to blow smoke rings


Meanwhile, in the house, Petunia Dursley had finally calmed down, she would explain that the boy had spilled syrup or paint on the new couch, but luckily, they had managed to talk the company into exchanging it with a new one, if in a different colour as they hadn't had the previous in avocado green, and really, that particular shade of blue was rather pretty, if not totally in accordance to the rest of the room. Current dilemma solved, she hurried to retrieve the boy, hoping she hadn't been overly harsh. Like her sister, she had always had a temper.

Taking a warm towel from the last load of laundry to warm the boy, she opened the door, and screamed.

Making Harry once again wish for a friend, someone like him, but most of all, to be anywhere but here.


Niprock ran along the corridor, skidded at the intersections, not even grunting at the growls and mutters of any hapless bystander, even knocking one over in a spray of flying paperwork. Even if that one did in fact receive a snicker.

-"the record! It has been broken! Both age and strength" he gasped excitement plain in his voice

-"what record? And sit down, you cannot talk if you can't breath" his superior ordered, as impatient as ever

-"the record of the strongest accidental magic by a child under the age of eight. And in a muggle area to boot. Am I to send the usual offer? The signature resembles that of the potters, if it is indeed Harry Potter, we may experience some…complications"

-" you are correct of course, I will go myself, and offer my services to his guardians. Dig up all information that you can, if we gain the boy's favour and loyalty, the sheep will follow"

-"to freedom and acknowledgement" they both intoned, rising and heading out


tearopal, director of public relationships, Gringotts, cursed her size. Apparating, she could do, glamours to make her seem human, no matter how distasteful they may be, she could do, wading through waist high snow was however not included in the job description and taxing, especially as the wards seemed to resent her being here.

Hearing a scream, tearopal bolted towards the backyard, where a thin overworked woman stared at an oddly coloured dragon hatchling, not unlike a Hungarian horntail, if one ignored the longer body and larger wings. Opal whistled, if it was a true beast, as it seemed to be, it would be a fearsome beast once grown.

Both heads snapped towards her, sensing that this was perhaps a rather trying time for all parties involved, decided to defuse the situation.

Ushering both inside, after confirming identities and happenings, opal set about explaining the situation. Offering Gringotts private teams as the ministry could trace magic only through the trace in a wand.

-"well self transfiguration is impressive, and dangerous. I will have to get a specialist, as, like animagi transformations, if reversed incorrectly or over used, the user is likely to take on the characteristics of the form. If there are major size discrepancies this is especially dangerous. Now I won't make it any of my business what you do with your form once you've unlocked it, but I warn you, the skin of a creature such as a dragon or any other creature of magic is not so easily taken off once worn. Use it only in the direst of circumstances. As you achieved this form unwillingly, it would be for the best if we could place a monitoring charm, tuned to your location and magic. Should you ever be overwhelmed and transform; it would be for the best if we could track you down as fast as possible."

Opal pressed the advantage, seeing, as she was not refused, offering a tutor, to reduce the accidental magic, securing the goblin nation, a chance at moulding one of the future, one of the influential, and therefore, the future in itself. Pleased with herself, Tearopal ran lists of possible candidates, a goblin would be best, of course, but unsubtle, sensitizing the boy through another race would perhaps further the cause in the long run, and alleviate the suspicions of self-service, which would be sure to come should the arrangement come to light, which it inevitably would. She would have to consult on this, she mused gleefully.