Remember the Name

A Naruto x Harry Potter Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

"There are times when fear is good. It must keep its watchful place at the heart's controls."

- Aeschylus


A/N: This is the second chapter uploaded in one day, 8/14/2012, and judging by the progress I've been making, there may very well be a third one on the way. It's crazy how much writing I can get done when I have the time.

Anyways, with this chapter we see some of the results of Dung's negligence. The actual action is not shown, because there would not have been any appreciable differences from how it happened in canon, and it's one of those scenes that's just been remixed so much that there's is no realistic way you can actually improve upon it.

Anyways, a lot of the dialogue in this chapter is either lifted or remixed from from Dudley Demented and A Peck of Owls.


Harry shivered as he carried the insensate form of his much larger cousin. His limbs were shaking, and he felt numb. The dementors were gone, for sure, having been driven off by his desperate Patronus Charm, yet he did not feel safe.

There was a prickly feeling at the back of his neck as he hauled Dudley down the street, and a knot had formed in his stomach, which felt like it was several inches lower in his abdomen than it had any right being. He was nervous and jumpy, and it felt like someone was watching him.

Every shadow in the dusky light seemed like it was following him. He was constantly whipping his head around this way in that, anxiously thinking he heard something in the bushes. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand even as he lugged Dudley down Magnolia Crescent, held at the ready to stave off any potential attackers.

Harry's nerves were badly frayed from the attack. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he blinked, he saw that bright green light, that damnable light which had been forever burned into his memory, seemingly tattooed upon the backs of his eyelids. In the silence, he could still hear the shrill, high pitched laughter that had echoed in his head, and the words that had been whispered into the back of his mind.

"Bow to death, Harry... It might even be painless...I would not know...I have never died..."

Harry shuddered, shifting Dudley's weight on his shoulders. Even though the moon and stars and streetlamps shined once more, their light seemed dimmer than before. The rumble of cars in the distance sounded duller, somehow. Harry's sense were on high alert, and yet everything seemed slightly less real than it had before, as though he was perceiving the world through a thick haze that dampened light and muted sound.

It did not seem possible, he thought, T-shirt drenched through with a cold sweat, that the world could go on as normal after something like that. Idly he wondered if anyone had even noticed what had just happened.

Probably not. Everyone in Little Whinging lived inside their own little bubble of mundanity, blissfully ignorant of the horrors that lurked in their own backyard. Even if they could see things like dementors, the muggles inhabiting this idyllic corner of the world would like as not just pretend that such things didn't exist.

Morbidly chuckling, Harry was reminded of what Stan Shunpike had told that time on the Knight Bus in the summer before his third year.

"How come muggles don't hear the bus?" he'd asked the pimply-faced teen.

"Them! Don' listen properly, do they?" Shunpike had said,"Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'"

Harry shook his head, glancing nervously over his shoulder. He felt exposed, like anyone could look outside and tell exactly what he was. His nerves were shot, he was shivering and wild-eyed, exceedingly conscious of how he looked.

Then he heard footsteps, hurried-sounding and headed towards him.

Reflexively, acting on instincts honed by countless brushes with death and danger, he automatically spun around and pointed his wand at the newcomer without barely even a thought.

When he saw that it was just their eccentric, cat-loving neighbor, Mrs. Figg, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. That was, until he realized that he still had his wand out and pointed right at her.

Frantically, he made to stow it out of sight, only for the woman to shriek, "Don't put it away, idiot boy! What if there are more of them around?" She looked livid as she sprinted over, feet nearly slipping out of her tartan slippers and a shopping bag hanging from her wrist. "Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!" she shouted furiously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something glint in the light of the streetlamps. Anxiously, he turned his head to get a better look, only to see nothing.

"What are you looking at, boy?" Mrs. Figg snapped, causing Harry to shake his head and look back at her.

"S-sorry," he said, dropping Dudley to the ground as gently as he could manage (well, maybe not quite as gently – he did not much care for his cousin, after all, seeing as how years of bullying could, surprisingly,cause a person to build up quite the store of resentment for their tormentors). "But, what?" he asked, somehow managing to communicate all of his bewilderment and confusion into that single word.

"He left!" said Mrs. Figg, looking both anxious and angry. "Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went and did anything like that, and now look!" she wailed, "Dementors! It's a good thing I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around!

"Hurry, now," she told him authoritatively, using the same tone as she had whenever she'd been babysitting him and needed him to do something, like clean out the litter box, "pick up that useless lump of a cousin and follow me! We've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause!" she moaned frustratedly. "I will kill him!"

Harry, more confused than ever with numerous questions flying through his head, nonetheless did just as Mrs. Figg said. He was too anxious at the moment to worry about such things. He still felt like someone, or something, was watching him, and it made him feel terribly uneasy. Honestly, he was just grateful for a excuse to hurry and leave that area as soon as possible, and too relieved by the presence of an adult who actually seemed to know what was going on to quibble over this or that at the moment.

And so he left, following after Mrs. Figg with Dudley draped clumsily over his shoulder. He did not notice the rustling of the hedges behind them, or the presence of a small, barely noticeable insect on his pants leg.

TTFN and R&R!


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