Title: Soul Identity

Rating: R

Warnings: non-con/rape, shota/underage, human experimentation, torture, reincarnation, crossover, language, dimensional bullshit, magical bullshit, sharingan bullshit, general angst, genderqueer characters, characters with issues, loss of identity, probably bad(incorrect) Japanese/Romanji, alternate universe, MoD-Harry, pack dynamics, instinctive/animal behaviour in humans, Gender-Neutral Pronouns,

Pairings: Kakashi/Obito(Harry), Gai/Rin

Summary: After a good and long life Harry has finally died. Except that as always he's a trouble magnet and instead of dying he finds himself in yet another impossible situation. Really, he's eternally going to be "The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Conquer-Death"

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and Masashi Kishimoto owns the Naruto franchise. I'm only playing in the sandbox.

Notes: Inspired by New Identity in the Past by Dreamyin. Among a few other stories, although what ones those are you'll have to figure out by yourself.

As with Collared this is going to hopefully be the only Author's Note for the entire story. Which means yeah, those pairings are the endgame pairings and the only ones that are really going to get that much narrative focus/hints in the story. So yeah those warnings are going to cover the entirety of the story in the case of future content and the endgame. Also, as usual the characters may be a bit OOC but that's mainly because this is an AU. Also, clearly Obito is going to be different because he's now Harry.

Also, this is mostly experimental really.

Pain.

All encompassing pain was the first thing that Harry became aware of.

It was unexpected as well considering that the last thing that he clearly remembered was dying and now he was in incredible pain. Yet it wasn't quite as bad as when he'd been put under the Cruciatus. Yet still it pulled him down and overwhelmed him. It was so tempting to just slip away and fade beneath the pain but his instincts screamed at him to fight against that.

Above all Harry was a survivor.

After the Dursleys, After Hogwarts. He was a survivor.

So he forced himself to swim through the pain. To reach up and through the surface until he was standing on an inky black pool in an unfamiliar blank abyss.

'Where? Where am I?' He wondered ignoring the pain that threatened to send him right back under the surface. He looked around trying to find anything even remotely familiar, there was nothing. 'Wh-What is this place?' he wondered hands coming up to clutch at his head as he began to panic.

Unexpectedly there was a wave of something that slammed into him and he yelped as his life, as his memories flashed rapidly across his vision. Cooking for the Dursleys, Learning that he was a Wizard, Fighting Voldemort, Dying with the expectation of seeing his family and friends again...

So why was he here?

An image of the reaper crossed his vision and he blinked reaching out to grip it. Except that it disappeared under another wave and rush of sensation and memories. All mixed together.

A different life. And he couldn't make any sense out of it. The sheer amount of memories pushed him down, his own memories not helping as he sank into the black water once more. Except that he couldn't allow himself to sink and he pushed right back.

Against the flow of memories he received snippets of clarity. Faces, blond hair and blue eyes that got meshed with the image of Neville standing tall and proud after the battle. A girl that made him feel warm, a boy who's presence in the snippets seemed to match Draco and Ron simultaneously. Yet he couldn't make sense out of the images, or even keep them in order.

He could feel his magic as well, it was screaming at him in panic trying to get him back to full consciousness. Allowing it to pull him along he slowly awoke to darkness. There was something on top of him, pinning half of his body to the ground.

He wanted to scream but there was no air in his lungs to do so. Instead he found himself panicking, he'd already died.

Now he was dying again.

Except that he was stubborn and he didn't allow himself to drift back into what must have been the mindscape. Rather he clung to life and desperately tried to figure out some way to escape from beneath whatever it was that kept him pinned. Nothing came to mind and as he got more and more desperate he was surprised to feel himself slipping.

Sliding right through the ground and he landed with a groan.

Footsteps echoed and his magic was still screaming. But he couldn't pull it up, couldn't reach out and touch it even as it sank into his body. There was a voice and then he released his hold on what remained of his consciousness, unable to cling any longer.

The following days(?), weeks(?), months(?) were spent in a haze of agony and terror. The person who'd picked him up was horrible. They would trap him in illusions that made him feel safe and then tear them apart or throw something horrible at him.

The body he resided in had also been experimented on, the crushed right side taken apart before being pieced back together. There hadn't even been any painkillers or numbing treatment used and it had been absolute agony, also his magic had lashed out, which meant that he now temporarily wore cuffs while confined in this laboratory place. He couldn't use his magic outside his body, so it focused on his internal systems.

His eyes had healed, the missing left one grown back it seemed and everything felt weird. He knew that a lot of things had changed and was only minutely glad that he was still a boy. Still male, but trapped here he really, really wanted to curse death.

Because why hadn't he just died and even now the boy's memories were too confusing and disorganized for him to make sense of. He had the suspicion that many of them were missing or locked away as well. His own memories also seemed weird, as if they weren't quite real.

Being trapped and confined to a cage did not help at all, especially because the one who held him prisoner had others here. He could hear them in the night(?), day(?) screaming, begging and pleading to be released. Many of them also screamed and cried for someone to stop, and no don't.

He dreaded to hear those screams because it was harder for him to ignore. It would cause him to want to leap from the cage and rescue the others. To get them all out and free. Except that he couldn't still to weak and helpless unable to access his magic. He wished that he knew how to fight, or use some kind of muggle method to escape. Except that he couldn't.

At the sound of footsteps he pressed himself back against the wall of his cage and glared darkly at the figure that stood there.

His captor who wore a huge grin and wielded a giant needle. And a plate of food. His stomach grumbled and he felt like cursing it. He was starving but accepting the food would also allow the man to do what they wanted with him. The could use the needle and alter his DNA once more. Or they could push him down and...

His mind blanked and he curled hands into fists. Damn the cuffs on his wrists even as he glared at the man.

"Hungry kid?" they laughed and he bared his teeth, canines more like fangs now. If they came any closer he would bite them consequences be damned. "C'mere!" they reached towards him and as he'd promised himself he bit down on their hand making them scream even as he instinctively knew what else he could do.

He jumped and with a spin the man was the one in the cage and he was out. He barely paused before he was running his mind racing. He had not planned that though, so quickly ran out of steam somewhere in the tunnels. Panting he walked a bit slower trying to orientate himself.

Where was he?

Why was here and how was he supposed to get out. And, when he was out where was he supposed to go? He didn't know even as he simply walked down the seemingly endless tunnels and hoped that the madman took a while to get out of the cage to chase after him.

Eventually the smell of antiseptic reached his nose and he turned his head in that direction before slowing down and walking towards it. He peered around a corner and stared into a second lab. On the table there was another kid, only a bit younger than this new body.

They were cut open and he could see their heart as it beat, their lungs filling with air and emptying. He could see that they were still alive, see that they were in agony. He could hear their breathing and see the way that their fists clenched. Seeing it made him incredibly uncomfortable, especially because he could remember being in the same kind of position.

How could he fix this? How could he help them? He wanted so desperately to help them but he was completely clueless and had the feeling that anything that he done now would only make it worse.

There was a crash and screaming filled the air from the tunnel behind him. He jumped and stumbled into the room and the other's eyes snapped open meeting his own. In that moment he was lost even as the madman reached them. He had to help, but was unable to as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and then slammed right back into the darkness.

Waking up once more he was chained down to a bed. Wrists bound together over his head with the chains cutting into bare flesh. The second thing that immediately caught his attention was his lack of clothing. Even if normally he didn't have much to cover him up he could at least count on the torn clothes that he'd been found in to be covering him.

So to be without them left him more vulnerable than he'd been for a while. Even in the cage, or on the operating table he'd never felt more vulnerable.

His eyes scanned the area but couldn't locate anyone in sight at all. That just made him more nervous, he was naked and chained down. That was never a good mix. He'd learnt that much working as an Auror on the force, and even the body's few memories clearly showed that it wasn't the best position to be in.

Except those few brief glances were only enough to make him more scared and nervous. He wanted to go home, although where home was couldn't be defined by his mind. Was it Hogwarts? Britain? This new world?

He shivered and tugged with his arms a bit trying to slip from the chains. Nothing, they didn't give in the slightest and he frowned. That was when he heard the laugh and his head snapped up. Standing right there was the man, blood splattered and with a huge grin. The needle still rested in their hands and he shivered once more.

This was not going to be fun.

He tried again to tug himself free but the chains prevented any sort of escape. He mentally cursed the weak thirteen year old body as the man stalked forwards grin widening when they saw the fear that he seemingly had. He wanted to scoff, he wasn't scared not really. So instead he simply glared at the man, mismatched eyes promising retribution for this.

That only made them laugh more before they smirked at him moving a single hand to rest on his still scarred cheek. His entire body tensed as the man spoke.

"Trying to escape were you. Naughty, naughty!" it was mocking and he growled before yelping as he felt the needle pierce his skin. It was fire burning through his veins and he felt like screaming even as the man began to stroke his cheek.

What kind of new punishment was this?

He whimpered, his body felt as though it was been torn apart again, from the inside out. Whatever had been in the needle was immediately equated to the Cruciatus but in liquid form. The only relief that the focus on the pain gave him was that he could ignore what else the man was doing to him.

Or at least he could for the most part. The sensation of hands on his body was still there though, along with the heat and pain, and the feel of the man's mouth biting into him. Dulled and distant, background noise caught up in the fire burning him up.

And then, there was his magic flowing free. It thrummed and pulsed and he reached, wrapping it around himself. There was a familiar twist and pattern and with the well remembered pop and pressure he apparated.

The landing was rough but he was free... And covered in the blood of the man who he'd inadvertently splinched. A dark grin crossed his face, 'the madman deserved that' he glowered before pushing himself up to stand. He was still completely bare, yet it was easy enough to find some clothing.

Not that far away was a caravan. It was abandoned and kind of broken as though it had suffered under a siege but there was clothing that he could use and that fit him within. He also decided to rest curled up within the caravan closing both eyes and trying to ignore the lingering feeling of fire in his blood.

He wanted his goggles back. And mentally he remembered the summoning charm before calling them, as soon as the familiar orange tinted goggles appeared in his hands he pulled them on and down over his eyes before curling up once more.

Settled and feeling relatively safe he drifted off. Visions of riding broomsticks, his parents and throwing out giant fireballs dancing in his head.

He was nameless.