Raiko Uchiha, Shinobi Sorcerer: A Harry Potter/Naruto Crossover

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters; all copyright belongs to JK Rowling; I do not own Naruto or any of its associated characters; all copyright belongs to Studio Pierrot and Aniplex; I do own any OC Spells/Jutsus explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: When Harry uses a new form of magic to save himself from being attacked by Dudley, it starts a chain of events that reveals more about Harry and his family history than he thought possible. But with new discoveries come new challenges and with new challenges come new revelations that threaten to turn Harry's world upside down.

Eventual Harry/Hermione

Other Pairings TBC

Normal Speech

'Thought'

"Jutsus"

Prologue: Harry's New Power

Running;

Always running;

Harry could never understand it, but whenever the summer holidays came around and he was trying to juggle Hogwarts homework with Dursley House chores and keeping out of his loving family's way, his thick-headed cousin Dudley still found time to invest in a session of his favorite past-time, Harry-Hunting.

Such was the case on that cool Wednesday afternoon just a week after Harry had come home from his second-year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his body still aching from his close-call with death against the Basilisk and his second encounter in just as many years with a version of Voldemort's soul. Not that such matters were a care for the Dursleys: they just chose to ignore Harry's wishes and put him to work, but, as predictable as day turning into night, one week had passed before Dudley and his gang had cornered Harry returning from the local shop and, with Seeker reflexes and without even bothering for a confrontation, Harry had turned and run.

Away from Privet Drive and away from the shops, down to the local school where Harry had personally hoped he'd never see it again and, running around the back of the school, Harry tried to find a way to keep away from the pursuers. To his dismay, he found that his tracks and his running had led him straight into a deserted alleyway, which would have been fine except the alley ended in a high wall that even Harry couldn't clamber over in time. Skidding to a halt, Harry turned back, hoping to make it away before the human gorillas caught up with him; however, his dismay only heightened when he saw that the end of the alley was blocked by Malcolm, Gordon and Piers, Harry's hulk of a cousin, Dudley standing between his thugs, cracking his knuckles dangerously.

"I gave you an out last year because you played a good game with me, freak," Dudley sneered, advancing on Harry, "But now I know the truth and you can't do what you thought you could to scare me. What are you going to do now, monster? Cry for Mummy?"

Harry drew himself to his full height: he had faced the King of Snakes, the darkest wizard in history and twice at that; he had taken on Slytherins with more brains than his cousin not to mention Fluffy, a troll, Norbert, a horde of Acromantulas and everything else he'd had to put up with as part of his Hogwarts career. He wasn't going to allow Dudley to see him cower; hell, he wasn't going to cower before this…this…Muggle like some kind of weakling; so he couldn't use magic, so what?

He could still duck, dive and swerve with his Seeker reflexes, but then of course, he'd have to put up with Dudley's cronies who had so few brains that they made Crabbe and Goyle look like Einstein's descendants.

He didn't know why, but that thought made him laugh and, as he faced Dudley, his laugh must have annoyed his cousin as Dudley asked, "What are you laughing for? I'm about to pay you back for that tail, you monster."

"I'm not a monster," Harry sighed, meeting Dudley's eyes as he drew on every ounce of his Gryffindor courage, "I'm just ahead of the curve: the things I've faced, the creatures I've fought, now they're the monsters. I've faced a snake that would swallow you down in one bite and have room for Daddy for dessert…"

His verbally-drawn-upon courage seemed to be working as Dudley hesitated, his fists trembling as though he was envisioning such a creature; going with this, Harry continued, "And then there's the dragon that I had to help raise, the spiders that would leave Aunt Petunia's home in spider's webs within minutes and, of course, the giant…three-headed…ferocious three-headed dog of the dead. Dudley? Are you all right? You've gone quiet; what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"Y-y-y-you're lying," Dudley squeaked, apparently now-having lost his strength to speak as he stepped back from Harry, though he didn't go too far. Instead, Harry knew that the big bad Big D wouldn't want to look weak in front of his cronies, "I-I-I'm going to t-t-tell Dad that y-y-you were t-t-talking about that f-f-freak place."

"What's he going to do?" asked Harry nonchalantly, "I escaped last year with a lovely flying car; the year before that, it was Hagrid, the large man that tried to turn you into more of a pig than you are: what could it be this year, Duddy-kins? Eh Poppet?"

He knew that it was silly to try and antagonize Dudley, but Harry was having too much fun; Dudley's eyes were now wide with horror as Harry mocked the baby-names that Aunt Petunia used on him, the young Gryffindor now holding the upper hand over his cousin. Suddenly, Dudley had become the weak one and, from the way that his fists were clenched, he didn't like it.

So, being Dudley, he did what he did best: he lashed out with his fists, Harry seeing the attack coming as though Dudley was moving in slow motion; not because of magic or anything like that, but because he was just too easy to antagonize. The soft thud of fist meeting brick had a smile on Harry's face, though that smile faded when Malcolm, Gordon and Piers grabbed him, Dudley now rounding on Harry with a look like an enraged dragon.

"Think you can insult me, freak?" asked Dudley, his fist coming around again, the feel of flesh on flesh making Harry gasp as he felt the air being forced out of him. Two more times, Dudley hit Harry in the chest, before smashing his fist against the young wizard's glasses and teeth, a part of Harry feeling slightly dismayed that he would have to ask Hermione to repair his glasses again.

However, as Dudley pulled away from smashing two of Harry's teeth out of his mouth, the young Gryffindor then felt…something: it was a magic that was unlike any other and, try as he might, it was like the survival instinct that Harry had come to rely on since the Chamber and before that had now returned. A strange buzzing sound echoed in his ears and, as he looked up at Dudley, who was now smirking victoriously at the beaten form of his cousin, Harry coughed once before he asked, "Is that all you've got?"

He didn't know why he said it, but Dudley didn't take the bait as he asked, "Why? What are you going to do, weakling? You need to learn your place and you need to learn it now!"

Harry was learning, but not in the way that Dudley intended; instead, the mockery of the word weakling, which was the one thing that Harry knew he wasn't, seemed to empower Harry, images of his victories over stronger opponents flashing through his mind: Fluffy, the troll, Norbert, Quidditch, Voldemort, Aragog and his nest, the Dueling Club – why he was remembering that, he didn't know, but it gave him the strength nonetheless – and finally, his most recent victory, defying Death itself, slaying a Basilisk and destroying the remnant of Voldemort's soul.

"Suddenly gone quiet, have we, Potter?" asked Dudley, slightly distracting Harry from his train of thought, though it did nothing to distract him from his resolve. Instead, he lifted his hands and, meeting Dudley's eyes, Harry shook his head before he drew on the knowledge inside him, the source of said knowledge being a mystery to him, but, as he lifted his hands, he pushed them together, the palm of his left hand being placed over the first of his right.

"Look at that," Piers scoffed, "Freak's actually praying: what? Does he think that an answer's just going to fall out of the sky?"

Their laughter only fuelled Harry's resolve: he could feel the power inside him and, while he didn't know exactly what the power was, he knew this much: he didn't need a wand to use it and, more importantly, the Ministry wouldn't trace this like they traced Dobby. Looking up to Dudley's eyes once more, Harry felt the power swirling around him, like the very air had come to his aid just like Piers had mocked him.

As the air gathered around him, Harry smirked as he felt the embraces of his captors loosen from his arms, Dudley now watching with fearful eyes as the gang backed away, actually retreating from the freak. Barging past Harry, who had now switched his hand-gesture to make it seem like his fingers were locked together, his thumbs and end fingers pressed together at the tips, Dudley screamed, "Where are you going? You're not seriously running from the freak, are you?"

"N-N-No, of course not…Big D," Gordon laughed, "Just…it's getting…getting windy, isn't it?"

"Wind?" asked Dudley, "You're scared of a little wind: what kind of boys are you?"

"Ones that know when to fight and when to flee," Harry's voice whispered from behind Dudley, though his tone of voice had now become distant and ethereal, as though he was locked in a trance. Before any of the thugs could make another move, Harry's voice then spoke with an echoing command that boomed like thunder, "WIND STYLE: HURRICANE JUTSU!"

At his command, the winds that had swirled around Harry now blew outwards, sending Dudley and his gang scattering for the hills, none of them ever repeating the fact that they were sent running from the freak. However, back at the small alleyway, Harry watched as his power not only knocked Dudley, Malcolm, Gordon and Piers over as though they were pins in a game of bowling, but actually ripped their clothes from their bodies, the bins and spare bits of garbage around them being caught in the wind and, to the chagrin of the thugs, showering them in the resulting muck cloud.

Harry, meanwhile, filled with awe and wonder as he was, also suddenly felt very tired; his weakness, his injuries and his somehow-summoned magic had drawn a lot out of his body and, as he released his hands, the wind dying down as though its task was accomplished, the last thing that Harry thought he'd heard was a voice calling out his name.

Darkness was all he saw after that…

ReikoUchihaShinobiSorcerer

Water;

That was the first thing that Harry was aware of when his senses started to come back to him; the sound of water running into a hollow device that clicked against what sounded like stone, before the sound of running water returned. As well as this rather unusual sound, a warm, spicy smell attracted Harry's nostrils, a bigger picture requesting to be let into his head, but, for now, Harry resigned himself to opening his eyes.

He was no longer lying on the floor of an alleyway near a Muggle school; now he was lying on a soft wool surface, a wooden ceiling overhead and, from what he could see, the room was lit by a small candle-flame chandelier that burned against the wall of the room. However, none of this was as surprising as the fact that, aside from the water feature and the calm, relaxing environment of the room, Harry also noticed that he wasn't alone in the room.

Next to his bed, pouring what looked like hot water into a mug of seasoned leaves was a man that appeared to be dressed in a robe that was wrapped around his waist, though the robe was cut off by a pair of dark silk trousers covering his waist and legs. From what Harry could see, as the man's image was at the corner of his vision, the man was bald on his head, a small beard and moustache around his mouth with the beard apparently twisted to resemble twin snakes wrapped around each other.

A pair of dark blue eyes looked to Harry as he noticed the man while the stranger then smiled before he asked, "So, you are finally awake, Harry-kun?"

"It…it would seem so, err…sir," Harry replied, recognizing the man's accent to hold a small hint of the far east from the fact that he'd used an honorific to address Harry, possibly China or Japan, though he should have also guessed that from the robe and the appearance.

"My apologies," the man then laughed, setting the kettle that he'd been using down next to Harry before he held out his hand to Harry, "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Hiroko Ryusaki, a wizard just like you, but, also like you, I am one who knows the ancient art."

Shaking the man's hand, Harry asked calmly, "Begging your pardon, Hiroko…err…Hiroko-san, but what do you mean by the ancient art?"

He hoped that his address of the man was correct: he knew very little about honorifics except for what he'd read in an encyclopedia he'd found before going to Hogwarts. Of course, the item in question didn't exist now as Dudley had destroyed it in an attempt to discredit Harry from being smarter than him.

"Your honorific is correct, Harry-kun," Hiroko told him, before that warm, comforting smile returned as he added, "And, as to what I mean by the ancient art, I refer to the power that you called upon in that alleyway: it was a mix of coincidence and good luck that I was drawn to that place when my…companion and I found you."

"And what was that power, Hiroko-san?" asked Harry, rubbing his hands as he then realized that any signs of the pain from before were gone.

"Ninjutsu, Harry-kun," answered Hiroko, handing the tea to Harry as he added, "Drink that: we can talk some more when you're wide awake."

Harry drank the tea…and suddenly felt wide awake: mostly because the tea was very hot and refreshing, but also because there was a hint of energy to the drink that seemed to give vitality back to his muscles. Sitting upright, he graciously returned the cup to Hiroko before he asked, "I'm sorry, Hiroko-san, but did you just say that the power I used was…Ninjutsu?"

"I did," Hiroko answered, setting the cup down as he sat down, folding his legs carefully as he spoke to Harry, "You may not know of it, Harry-kun, but there are quite a few witches and wizards in the world that can use the arts and you, young friend, are one of them. When you used the ability, you harnessed a great power that, without strength or training, could be used for evil purposes or, at the very worst of scenarios, could actually kill you. In fact, if I had not turned up when I did and used what I knew of the art, I fear that I would not have gotten to you in time to save you."

"So it seems that I owe you my life, Hiroko-san," Harry realized, his words calm, but edged by a sense of duty and worry, "If…if you kept me here for payment, then…then please…tell me what I can do."

"I knew that you were a noble spirit, Harry Potter," Hiroko laughed, surprising Harry as he didn't use the honorific, but Harry also sensed that Hiroko wasn't here to insult him or insist any sort of foreknowledge about him. "Just like he told me that you were, isn't that right, my friend?"

It was only then that Harry noticed that there was another man in the room: a tall man with messy dark hair and grey eyes that made Harry thinks of a dog giving him a baleful expression. The man was dressed in light robes and seemed to be smiling, though with the scraggly beard and shaggy hair obscuring his mouth, Harry couldn't tell.

As he looked to this newcomer, however, Harry had a feeling that he knew him from somewhere, though the knowledge once again eluded him; thankfully, the man seemed to fill in the blanks as he sat down on the bed that Harry was laid on and, extending a hand, he put it on Harry's shoulder, the touch making Harry think of a fatherly embrace. "Harry…I've been waiting forever and a day to see you again kiddo…you probably don't remember me, so I'll do the honors."

He didn't know why, or he didn't know why yet, but he suddenly felt that he could trust the man and, when he addressed Harry with a soft air, those feelings were only confirmed as the man introduced himself;

"My name is Sirius Black and I'm…I'm your godfather."