Remember the Name
A Naruto x Harry Potter Crossover
By
EvilFuzzy9
"The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because they are generally the same people."
- G. K. Chesterton
A/N: With the most recent chapters of the Naruto manga, especially 597, it's looking and sounding more and more like that old ObiTobi theory might actually be correct. Which is just crazy, since that theory has been around for, well, as long as Tobi has, but it hasn't been taken seriously by fans in years. Which makes it even wilder that it might actually be true.
Anyways, in this chapter... things get pretty damn serious. There's a touch of gore, a healthy bit of mindscrew, and even a little strong language. And me being deliberately vague with certain details regarding certain events.
Also, I've posted a companion fic for this called Damnatio Memoria that is basically a collection of drabbles and oneshots set in the RtN-verse. It's only one chapter long, right now, but still. Go check it out~
This... was a complete mess, Harry decided. Things had gone from tolerable to bad, from bad to worse, and from worse to a complete clusterfuck.
First, Mrs. Figg had started screaming at Mundungus Fletcher. Then Uncle Vernon had come out of the house to shout at Mrs. Figg to keep it down, only for Mundungus to collide with him.
That, naturally, had infuriated Vernon, who had taken one look at the disheveled, disreputable-looking Fletcher and gone red in the face from outrage. So he had started roaring at Mundungus to get off of his property or he'd call the cops. And all the while Mrs. Figg had been whaling on the man with her shopping bag, which was filled with tins of catfood from the sound of it.
Then Aunt Petunia had come out to see what all the racket was about. Naturally, her eyes had instantly gravitated towards Harry, automatically assuming he had something to do with the commotion. And when she saw her "darling Dudderkins" unconscious and draped over Harry's shoulder, she had immediately lost it and started shrieking and clawing at her nephew to try and make him let go of her son. This had only added to the confusion, and soon the whole affair had devolved into a long shouting match between Vernon, Petunia, and Mrs. Figg.
At some point, in order to avoid attracting the suspicion of their neighbors, Harry's aunt and uncle "politely" invited Mrs. Figg and Mundungus inside, where they could continue their "discussion" in relative privacy. Petunia had been very, very reluctant to let the filthy Fletcher into her spotlessly clean home, but the prospect of the scandal that would erupt if the other neighbors saw what was going on was sufficient impetus for her to anxiously shoo the group inside.
And so it continued, for a short while, with Mrs. Figg screaming at Mundungus and Petunia, Vernon roaring at Mundungus and Mrs. Figg, Petunia screeching at Harry, Harry shouting at Vernon and Petunia (for the heck of it, mostly), Mundungus cowering behind Dudley's bulk, and Dudley lying unconscious on the kitchen floor.
There's no knowing how long things might have continued in that fashion on their own, because just as a purple-faced Vernon reached over to fiercely grab Harry by the shoulder, presumably to give him a good bodily shake for getting his son into such a state, the front of the house suddenly exploded. Splinters and glass shards flew through the air like a hurricane of knives and arrows.
Vernon was the first to fall, his ponderous bulk providing no defense against the bullet-speed shrapnel. There was blood everywhere soaking down his front leaking from his wounds and befouling his shirt. He was rigid as he fell, his muscles still tense even in death. His face was screwed into a bizarre half-way expression between anger and shock.
Fletcher was the next to go, the splintered arm of a coat rack gruesomely stabbing through the back of his head, the other end just barely peeking through his forehead. Red and bits of pink dripped from the darkly varnished piece of wood as the craven, unshaven man's glassy eyes stared uncomprehendingly at Harry. The man didn't see it coming at all, he probably didn't even know he was dying until it was already too late.
Petunia and Mrs. Figg survived the explosion with only minor cuts, and Harry himself had just a few splinters in his arms. Dudley was the only who escaped unscathed, having already been lying prone on the floor.
But then something from Harry's nightmares walked in through the massive whole where the front of the house had once been.
Sickly pale skin, paper white and smooth, completely bald. A nose so recessed into the face as to be just a pair of slits. Horribly glowing crimson eyes that seemed like they belonged on a monster or a devil. A tapered, polished wand lazily clutched in long, slender fingers.
Voldemort smiled hideously, and like great, black wings spreading from his back, darkly clad Death Eaters appeared at his side, flanking his rear. Sneering skull masks stared gleefully at their prize.
Lifting his wand, the Dark Lord uttered a single incantation.
"Avada kedavra."
A jet of green light streaked past Harry. He heard the thump of a body falling to the floor.
Again, Voldemort waved his wand.
"Avada kedavra."
With another flash of green light, another body hit the floor.
Harry hissed through his teeth as he felt his scar erupt as Voldemort slowly, ominously walked closer. His brow felt like it was being branded with a burning spike, his head feeling like it was about to split in half. He was blinded by unimaginable pain, unable to see anything for a moment but endless darkness and flashing spots.
When sight returned to him, Harry saw burning red eyes boring down into his own. Voldemort's wand was poised over his throat.
Harry couldn't move. His limbs refused to respond as he desperately tried to knock away Voldemort's wand or reach for his own or do anything at all to escape. Beyond all rational thought, Harry began descending into panic.
The Dark Lord smiled as he saw the fear in the eyes of the most hated obstacle in his way. His lips began to move, enunciating the first syllables of the spell that would end the boy's life.
...only to be stopped by a large, meaty hand grabbing his wrist, as a familiar voice shouted into Harry's ears, "WAKE UP!"
Harry opened his eyes in shock, and the world melted away. No longer was the house in ruins. All that remained of Harry's vision was the blurry, lingering image of a white, featureless face and a large pink hand grabbing a thin, pale wrist.
No longer were Vernon and Petunia or Figg and Fletcher lying dead on the floor. Instead, they were standing around the room. Mrs. Figg looked fretful, Fletcher looked chastised, Petunia looked conflicted, Vernon looked angry, glaring at something outside Harry's field of vision, and Dudley...
Harry frowned, looking up at Dudley, who was looking down at him almost... proudly.
The other, larger boy, seeing his cousin looking up at him, gave Harry a wan smile and waved a handless, bandaged wrist at him.
Harry gaped.
"What happened to your hand?" he blurted out stupidly.
"We're even," was all Dudley said, further confounding Harry. He would have asked the other boy to clarify what he meant, but he was interrupted by a loud shout from the Dursley patriarch.
"NO!" Harry heard his uncle Vernon bellow. "We're not keeping him! That boy isn't going to be staying here a minute longer! He led that freak here! My family wouldn't have been in any danger if it weren't for him...! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! MY SON — !"
Harry winced at the volume of Vernon's roaring, and found himself curiously turning his head to see what poor sap had gotten the man all worked up.
His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Professor — !"
Blue eyes twinkled, and a bearded, elderly wizard smiled down at him.
"Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, skillfully ignoring Vernon Dursley's angry ranting. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."
TTFN and R&R!
translation notes:
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