Midori Kurosaki and the Soul Reapers
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Bleach and Harry Potter created and owned by JK Rowling, Tite Kubo and various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros., Inc., Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Translation: I do not own anything or profit from Bleach or Harry Potter but I am amusing myself with their characters…
AN: This Harry Potter- Bleach crossover is inspired by A Different Life, A New Family by Yuki Kurosaki.
Prologue
Huddling under a ratty blanket, the tiny boy muffled his soft whimpers against a threadbare pillow. His head was burning hot but his small body was racked with shivering chills. Although he was hardly older than a baby, the dark, cramped room had been his entire world for almost a year. Sometimes, when the spiders weren't skittering across the wooden floor, he remembered a time outside of the cupboard. He had been warm and his tummy didn't have the bad, empty feeling that never quite went away. Outside was sunny and green with smells that didn't make your eyes water. There were big people who didn't say things like "Boy" or "Freak," not like the prune-faced lady or the fat, jiggly ones who yelled and pinched. They smiled a lot and told stories while tucking you into clean, fluffy beds. When they threw you up in the air, they always caught you and laughed while they wrapped their arms around you. And you knew they would never, ever drop you. But ever since the bad green light, the nice big people were gone, leaving him in the dark.
The little boy wanted to be outside, warmed by the light. Maybe, there could be other big people who wouldn't scream and throw things if he wasn't hidden. Nice people might pat him on the head and say he was good. He scrubbed a few tears off his face with a tiny fist. Crying only made the mean, jowly man angrier. With all his heart, he wished for a family, to be… not alone. Magic, long denied but permeating every part of his small frame, flickered into awareness and danced through his mind. Compelled to keep him safe, to fulfill his wish and to preserve itself, it burst into action. And so, with a soft pop, Harry James Potter disappeared from Number Four Privet Drive forever.
Much to the wizarding world's future dismay, the Boy-Who-Lived sensors (which were fairly indifferent to his well-being, all things considered) in Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore's office and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement didn't even blink. A world away, a small toddler curled into a fetal position under his thin blanket. He sleepily wondered how his mattress suddenly became harder, warmer and less lumpy. There was a squeaking noise above him and a bump on his back, like a bedspring poking him. As he succumbed to fatigue, he felt a soft hand brushing his scarred forehead and heard a voice yelling "Isshin! Isshin!"
