I Do Not Own Harry Potter or Naruto
Description: He could almost remember. It was there, somewhere in the back of his mind, nagging him.
.-.
Harry rolled over in his bed and sighed. Seeing as he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon he stood and slipped from his four poster bed. Shooting a glance at his roommates he found them all asleep. Not surprising as it was only two in the morning.
Harry rubbed at his tired eyes as he made his way into the common room. The fire place lit up more as he took a seat on the couch, giving off enough light to make the space warmer and cheery.
Harry sunk into the cushy chair and closed his eyes. The heat of the fire warmed his face and the couch felt so comfortable.
The hot blaring sun and the strong winds beat upon him. The sand under his feet felt reassuring and the sand brushing against his skin reminded him he was protected. He tilted his head to the blazing sun and basked in its warmth.
Harry's eyes snapped open. He blinked blearily.
"Huh. That's odd." He yawned. "Never had a dream like that. Seemed so real."
.-.
Harry slumped exhaustedly over the red head girl, sword clattering to the floor as the last echoes of Tom's dying cry drifted away. He realized he'd won.
He sat down on the cold dank floor and shuddered. He hated the cold.
He felt for a pulse, a bit surprised at how natural the move felt. Like he'd done it before. He couldn't remember though. He let out a breath as he felt a strong beat and for a moment he wondered if it was a sigh of relief or not.
He looked down at his hands and realized they were covered in blood. In fact he was practically dripping in it. How come he hadn't noticed before? And why did he not care? It felt comfortable, the red staining his skin. Maybe he was in shock from killing a basilisk. Somewhere in his mind though he didn't think he was in shock. Somewhere he knew he was just calm because this wasn't an unusual occurrence.
.-.
Harry dug his fingers in the sand of the bottom of the lake and waited. He glanced at the four people hanging from the rock and waited for the other champions to come. He looked at them closely taking in the pale skin and the frozen faces.
They looked dead.
For some reason that didn't freak him out. It actually seemed to relax him. The silence that was.
His hair floated about him as he turned to watch the Cedric swim up to him and start to free Cho. He gave Harry a wave and turned swimming off. Harry kept his fingers encased in sand as he continued to wait. He liked sand. Always had. His favourite thing had always been the sandbox at school and sometimes, even now, he lamented the fact that Hogwarts had no sandbox or sandy beach.
Victor Krum arrived, half shark and pushing through the water. Harry tilted his head as he gazed at the half animagus. Something about the skin and beady black eyes reminded him of someone. Someone he didn't like. He narrowed his eyes as Krum went for Hermione and tore at the bind. Seeing Krum like this made him mad for some reason. And wary.
He watched as the man swam off and continued to wait. He waited until time was almost up and he realized no one was coming for the blonde girl. He went for his own prisoner, freeing Ron and tucking him under one arm. He turned and gazed at the blonde girl for a long moment.
Her hair was blonde. That's what got his attention. For some reason though, he seemed to think it was the wrong color of blonde. He shook the thoughts away and grabbed the girl, snarling at the merpeople who tried to stop him and swam towards victory.
.-.
Harry glanced to his left and took in companions. His brother was carrying his sister. For some reason she'd screwed up a perfectly easy twist and broken her ankle.
He blinked at his own thoughts and shook them away. That wasn't correct. Neville wasn't his brother and Luna wasn't his sister. His brother wore more purple and his sister was more fierce.
No. that wasn't right either.
Harry Potter didn't have any siblings.
He pushed the thoughts aside and fired another spell at their attackers, glancing at the Order members that were assisting him in this endeavour. And then he saw Sirius.
Harry loved Sirius. He had since he had first seen laughing blue eyes. The problem right now though, was that those laughing blue eyes were falling. Harry felt such a wave of dread rise in him he stumbled. All he could see was blonde hair and laughing blue eyes and whiskered cheeks. And then blue eyes had vanished.
Harry wasn't aware he was running towards the veil until strong arms wrapped around him.
"Harry! It's too late! He's gone." Remus yelled struggling to hold him back.
Harry half collapsed in his arms as he stared in disbelief at the veil.
"Naruto." He whispered brokenly.
'No, that's not right.' He thought to himself, 'it's Sirius.' And then he saw the killer and his eyes narrowed. The woman laughed psychotically and her image was overlapped with a silent boy with spiky black hair and an arrogant sneer. He hated him. No, not him, it was Bellatrix. He hated Bellatrix.
.-.
Harry waved his wand in a swirling arc and watched as the sand followed the movement. He loved the utter ease in which he controlled the fine sand. He didn't find it surprising though. It was if he had always had an affinity to the fine soft grains. He moved them with barely a thought, shaping and moulding it without even trying.
It gave him a sense of satisfaction. Of safety. The sand felt like a protection.
Sometimes he thought he could remember the feel of such sand across his skin, drenched in blood. Sometimes he felt that he remembered whispers in his mind.
He never wondered why petty words in a paper or the petty glares of classmates never bothered him. Why he could brush the hateful gazes of his relatives off with nary a thought. But sometimes he thought he could remember hate filled glares and flashing blades and a sense of skewed love. And whenever he thought of the word love he thought of sand. His sand.
Harry heard a clatter and knew his roommates would be coming up soon. With a deft flick he quickly hid the sand back in a small jar and stuffed it under his pillow, pulling the covers over himself. He waited silently until his roommates had returned and fallen asleep before brushing his fingers against the container holding his sand. It reassured him and he soon felt himself drift off to dreams of a dessert.
.-.
Harry stared at the picture of his mother and felt a sense of longing. He'd always wanted a mother. Always wanted someone to love him unconditionally, the too tuck him in at night and console him when he hurt. He wanted some who would listen to his problems and offer support and love him no matter what. He just wanted love.
He gently brushed his fingers over her picture and she giggled silently.
He knew that his favourite part of his mother was what she had sacrificed herself for. For him. She'd done it for him. Not because she had to. But because she wanted to. Somewhere a feeling nagged she'd been forced to but he knew that had been before. This time she had done it because she loved him.
He blinked at such thoughts then shoved the picture away as Hermione slipped into the tent.
"I already miss Ron." She sniffed, eyes red and puffy from crying. "How could he abandon us here?"
Harry patted her shoulder, giving her silent condolences and trying to offer support. But as he looked at her all he could see was pink hair and green eyes and a temper. And he didn't want to comfort her about the traitor she missed.
.-.
Spells whizzed by and the air was full of screams, and blood, and terror. He could feel the adrenaline course through his veins and he ducked and attack and rolled away from a blade. Claws went for his neck and he lashed out with a precise hit that killed the man by crushing his throat. He saw green spandex and a bright smile telling him he'd finally gotten the move down.
A spray of blood hit the side of his face as a man next to him was hit with a severing charm. Harry wiped the blood away idly, thinking that a knife would have hit better and less messily.
He turned and dropped to crouch, a spell flying over his head. He leapt at his attacker with a speed he never knew he had, magic –chakra- running wild through his body.
He took a man out with another precise hit and then paused. Why wasn't he using his wand? And how did he know such moves? He'd never taken a day of karate or self defence in his life. Yet he moved with such ease, with such familiarity.
He frowned, in the middle of a raging battle and wondered.
Why did he feel so at home in this fight? With blood flying and people dying? How did he feel so at ease, so excited, as he killed a man with his bare hands?
He was interrupted by another spell aimed at his head. He ducked and threw a hand out. The sand in his pocket rose silent and speared through the man's eye, cutting off a scream. Harry watched the body drop and furrowed his brow in thought.
Unconsciously he waved a hand, calling the sand back. It wrapped around his skin and looked to be no different then any other part of his arm. He turned to stare at Neville who was a ways off.
Why did he think he had a brother? He looked at Luna. A sister? Why did he never think the name Sirius when he thought of his godfather? Why did he like blood? Sand?
Harry snapped from such ponderings as a spell shaved off a lock of hair and hit someone behind him. He leapt over an attacked and then stabbed him in the back with a knife he'd snuck one day. He made sure the man was done before ducking low and running to the next enemy, dispatching him with a quick broken neck, via sand.
Suddenly a heartbroken scream rendered the air. Harry spun and laid eyes on the corpse of George Weasely. Fred had been the one to scream, as if he was the one who had been killed. He stared at his dead twin with horror and Harry knew the boy would never be the same. He killed an enemy sneaking up behind them and then grabbed the dead twin's wand shoving it into Fred's hand.
"Hurry." Harry said. "You must kill them. Prove your existence. Prove George's existence was not just to die at their hands. Show them you exist and he exists inside you."
Fred's hand clenched around the second wand and he turned, jaw clenched, teeth grit, and a hatred in his eyes. Harry knew he would be fine. He would prove his existence. He would get revenge and take out their enemies. Harry watched his back and was reminded of the beast in his godfather. No that wasn't right! His godfather held nothing.
'But Naruto did.' His thoughts whispered. 'He held the same thing as us.'
And Harry wondered what sort of monster of hate and death he had held. But he didn't care. It was no longer with him. It was long gone. Just as his siblings were and his friends were. He was here now. But he would always be…
"Ah, Harry."
Harry turned and gazed upon the creature that had ruined this life. The creature that had taken his loving family and who had killed his godfather – the one that reminded him of a blonde long lost-. He looked into red eyes the color of blood and a face paper pale and he was reminded of another snake. He was reminded of spinning red eyes. He was reminded of a black red-clouded cloak.
And Harry remembered hatred. Remembered all those how had ruined his life and they were all embodied in this man.
He didn't go for his wand. Almost forgot he even had one. He just curled his fist and felt the sand around him stir at his anger.
"Isn't it such a glorious battle Harry?" the creature smirked. "Listen to those mudbloods and blood traitors scream. Look their corpses litter the field of you home."
He wondered if Voldemort was stupid, riling him up like this. He couldn't win. The bastard didn't have half the skill, half the power he had. He was the leader of his village for god's sake and this thing was…was just pitiful. He felt his sand rise, floating in wisps around him. He took a twisted sense of amusement as he saw the slight fear in Voldemort's eyes at what he thought was wandless magic.
"I'm going to kill you." Harry whispered lowly, voice sounding rougher. "I'm going to kill you to prove my existence."
He grinned, splitting his face and showing off his white teeth. He didn't notice his eyes turn slightly more teal. He didn't notice the red sheen of his hair become more pronounced.
He lifted a hand to his forehead, covered in sand and rested it over the lightening mark. He let out a bare hiss of pain as the sand got to work. When he pulled his hand back it had streaks of blood on it. He knew the symbol he stood for now rested on his forehead.
"Dumbledore always said Love was my weapon." He said idly. "I think it would be more accurate to say that I fight for it, not with it."
Voldemort took a step back, sensing the change that Harry hadn't yet sensed.
"Oh," Harry said almost brightly, grin still splitting his face, as he lifted an arm.
The sand rose about him like a wave.
"And my names not Harry anymore. It's Gaara, Gaara of the Sand."
Gaara grinned widely, sand quivering at his excitement while Voldemort paled not knowing the significance of the name –not knowing the bloody history of another time, another world-. But Voldemort could see the bloodlust and the pent up hate and anger.
Gaara just laughed, a deep rasping chuckled, echoed in his mind by memories of a former life.
.-.
The End.