Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto.

Just another plot bunny that may or may not evolve.

Warning: This is AU. I do not have in-depth knowledge about the Narutoverse so this will be VERY non-canon. If you cannot handle it, turn back now.

Enjoy!

… … … … … … … …

Emerald eyes lazily tracked the movement in the room through a curtain of wild black hair. The figure moved pass him and he looked back down at the book clutched in his small hands.

"Hari-kun?"

The bearer of said name glanced up again. The female caretaker in charge of meals gave an uncertain smile at the flat look.

"Would you like to eat your dinner first? You can go back to reading after."

The child blinked once, slowly.

"Thank you for bringing dinner up for me again, Muhara-san. If you don't mind leaving it there, I will eat it once I have finished reading this book."

"Um…yeah – I mean…sure, I'll just leave it here. I'll come up to collect it in an hour, Hari-kun."

Flashing another forced smile, Muhara beat a hasty exit, well aware of the eerie green gaze fixed on her up until the door clicked shut. The middle-aged caretaker gave a slight shudder. Kurayami Hari was not a normal child. Not with that knowing, haunted emerald eyes. Those were more suited for veteran shinobi or even ANBU, not set in the babyish face of a four-year old orphan.

Muhara Fuyumi has been working in the sole orphanage of Fire Country's Hidden Village, Konohagakure, for well over a decade now. She has seen children come and go. Those who settled down for a quite life as civilians, traders and craftsman. Others who struggle and carve their way through the demanding life of a shinobi and now stand proudly among the elites. But none had that look in their eyes at this age, genius or not.

Well…maybe Orochimaru, according to the older matrons…but that was beside the point.

Fuyumi made her way slowly down the dark corridor away from the unnatural child. She could see why he picked the secluded room at the end of a seldom-crossed hallway. It was quiet, the only company he would get will be from whomever was unlucky enough to be assigned to the room a few steps to the left.

"Ah, Fuyumi-chan," the head-matron shuffled forward as soon as she entered the main hall, her arms laden with a sleeping kid. A new orphan, seeing as she had not seen him around before. "Here, I have just given him a bath. Cried himself to sleep, the poor thing. Please take him to a vacant room while I finish the required paperwork."

The caretaker smiled, gently extracting the little boy from the other woman's arms. She cooed at the cute face, blond tufts of hair sticking in every direction. A scroll was waved and the head-matron gestured for her to take it.

The scroll tucked under her arm, Fuyumi hesitated, "Er…Suzuki-san? The only vacant room that is prepared is the one down the hall from…him."

The older female frowned, nonplussed, "And it's a problem because…?"

Muhara ducked her head and mumbled, "Never mind."

She ran a finger through the soft hair on the boy's head.

Unlucky indeed.

… …

… …

Kurayami Hari wagged his relatively small fingers in front of his face, eyes narrowing in interest at the semi-familiar feeling coursing under his skin. Familiar because he has had it all his life – well, lives – but it felt different. Denser than normal and slightly less sentient. But that was fine. As long as he was able to utilise his powers the way he had always done, he wouldn't complain.

He concentrated on the magic – Chakra – as they called it here flowing through his veins. A rare smile crossed his face as it began to pool in his hands, green as his eyes. He cut the flow off, scowl automatically replacing the smile as he was once again met with the reminder of his status.

Etched on both palms like a tattoo, the Deathly Hallows mark stared back, thick black lines deforming the natural lines of his hands.

Master of Death.

The not-child snorted. If he knew accepting the title would mean constant dying and rebirth, he would have ran the moment Death approached. Scratch that, he wouldn't even have touched the stupid stone and stick. The cloak was useful, so he wouldn't mind keeping it.

This world was a break from the string of strange places he had been dumped in. Normal looking humans. Technology mixed with another form of magic. He had scoured the entire orphanage for any sort of information on the geology and history of this place, and so far, he had a fair idea of where he was. The one thing that really intrigued him were the soldiers of this world. Shinobi and samurai. Clan kids who are trained from a very young age. Genius were produced in every generation, clan or no. Were he the idealistic wizard he was a long time ago, he would have bulked at the idea of child soldiers. Now? He knew which path he wanted to go down.

Once again he cursed the deity that refused to let him relinquish his position. If the enigmatic prick wanted Hari to do his job properly, he should at least have the courtesy to tell him the reason he was reborn in another specifically selected world. Death did not even ask his permission before saddling him with the undesirable job of ensuring a few souls as possible meet an early end in whichever place he ends up in. Really, one would think mastering Death means being able to boss said entity around, not the opposite.

Footsteps sounded, and Hari moved to the door, his own steps silent. Peering through the keyhole, he watched as Muhara carried a small bundle into the only other room in this hallway. He was instantly curious and eagerly waited for the woman to leave.

It was nearing midnight that the caretaker left, a full half hour later. The emerald-eyed boy slipped out and into the other room like a wraith. The toddler was still asleep, pudgy hands grasping the woollen blanket. Spiky blond hair adorned his head and Hari shifted closer to the cot. An open scroll lay on the small table beside the bed, displaying a name. The child's, he presumed.

Said child stirred, and the sight of bright cerulean blue eyes greeted the Master of Death. They were full of innocence and childish curiosity.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Vector. No family name."

"I could have handled it myself! There was no need to interfere, you arrogant arse!"

"Wait! I'm sorry about earlier. I was angry. Friends?"

"Brother! Please, don't go. Please, don't leave me alone. Not you, please…"

Hari winced as the memories assaulted him. Memories of another younger boy. Bright blue eyes and blonde hair. And the same gaze.

The child was already sitting up, head tilted to the side, a small hesitant smile.

"Um…who are you?"

The older boy flinched.

Too similar. They were too similar.

The immortal said nothing. Merely turn and fled, leaving the blonde staring forlornly at the door.

… …

… …

Back in his room, Kuroyami breathed heavily, his magic lashing out in reaction to his unstable state. The entire room descended into darkness. The enclosed space provided comfort and he slowly calmed.

What was he doing? Vector was gone. That world was far behind him. But the memory of it wasn't. The one who called him 'brother'. The one who managed to break down the walls around his heart and ripped a chuck of it out when he died.

They said 'time healed all wounds'. It was partially true, his heart was no longer capable of bleeding. The walls around his heart were stronger than ever.

… …

… …

Little did he know the young child so similar to his brother-in-all-but-blood would chip it all away.

He will resist. Oh, he will.

But looks were not the only thing they had in common.

It was fated, after all.

The one who was born to be a legend.

How far will he go with a loyal unyielding shadow by his side?

Namikaze Minato.

… … … … … … … … … …

So...

Comments?

Ideas?

Flames, even? :P

Later!

Kagetsuki-taicho