A/N - This is a challenge from Serpent in the Shadows. There will be no Horcruxes in this story, which means Dumbledore is still alive, and Harry has no reason to distrust Snape other than his sparkling personality.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto.

Warning - To those who are oblivious, this story will have slash. That means male/male relationships to those who don't get it from the pairing listed below. Don't read if you don't like, and if you don't like, don't flame, because it's your own fault for reading anyway.

CHALLENGE #4

-Harry Potter/Naruto Crossover
- Pairing: Harry/Naruto

Summary:
At the age of 17, Harry was kidnapped by Death Eaters. Tortured beyond anyone's imagination - Harry loses an eye, his face and body scarred. After a year and a half, a now 18 yr old Harry escapes and finds his way to Hogwarts. Because of everything he's been through, Harry turns cold and emotionless and vows never to be defenseless or scared ever again. Once healed, he asks the Headmaster to step up his training so he will be able to defeat the Dark Lord - he is denied. Everyone thinks he's too emotionally scarred and could break at any moment, so they coddle him, and treat him as if made of glass. Fed up, Harry leaves Hogwarts, knowing that he's going to have to find another way to get the training he needs. Before he leaves the wizarding world, Harry ventures to his vaults and while in the Black vault he finds a book that has hand written accounts of lands that are hidden from the world. In it, he comes across a passage that talks of lands that breed and raise hired assassins - Ninjas. Taking a chance, Harry empties the vaults of all its money and takes the book with him so he can find the 'Hidden Villages'.

Requirements:
- Harry gets the Hokage to agree to let him hire one of their own in order to train him in weapons.
- Naruto must be the one that teaches him (Naruto must be at least 17)
- Remember, Harry has turned off his emotions in order to deal with everything that's been thrown at him - so make him act that way.

Prologue

Harry lay at the bottom of the small, dark coat closet, waiting with an ever increasing sense of doom. The Dursleys had finally snapped this summer, moving in the middle of the night from Number 4 Privet Drive to a new home that had taken days to reach in the Dursleys' cramped car. No amount of explaining could get his uncle to understand the need to remain, or at least let other wizards know where they were going. Harry hadn't had an opportunity to let anyone know either, as Hedwig had been caged the entire time. His beautiful owl had died a few days after arriving at the new house, and the very thought of it made him sad.

It was about the same size as Number 4 had been, with three rooms, a nice kitchen and two bathrooms. Unfortunately, as it didn't have a cupboard under the stairs, and Dudley's veritable mountain of junk could only fit in the third room, Harry had been relegated to the cramped coat closet. It was comparable in size to a bathroom stall. In these circumstances, Harry's relatively short stature was a mixed blessing. He hadn't managed to reach past 5'5 ft due to malnutrition at the hands of his relatives. While he couldn't stretch to his full body length while lying down, he was, at least, able to lie down comfortably if he curled up.

Despite how horrible his circumstances were, they were not the cause of his growing sense of dread. The current date held all accountability for the sinking sensation in his gut. It was nearing 12:00 a.m., which marked the start of the 31st of July. The day of his seventeenth birthday, after which he would be considered an adult in the wizarding world. The Trace would be removed from him, and he would officially be able to use magic outside of school. Normally, he would have been ecstatic about this development, but his wand was locked in a safe in the attic, along with all his other wizarding supplies. And he was Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, supposed Savior of the Wizarding World. Chosen One they called him. In other words, he was the boy-with-a-target-on-his-head, and the blood wards that kept him safe for only as long as he lived with Aunt Petunia would disappear with his coming of age. He would be in an unknown place surrounded by strangers, with no protection, not even his own wand. What made things infinitely worse was that he knew for a fact that Voldemort was aware of his location, thanks to that annoying little mind link they shared. He was also fairly certain that the Order had no clue where he was, so there would be no help from them. The dreams he had of Voldemort meant that he knew with utmost certainty that the attack would come tonight.

As if drawn by his thoughts, several loud 'CRACKS' resonated throughout the house, closely followed by loud shouts, screams, and curses from his relatives. In mere seconds, three almost simultaneous Avada Kedavras rang through the air, and Harry could hear the muffled thumps of bodies hitting the floor. Loud bangs and heavy footsteps echoed throughout the house as they began to search for him. As his panic started to rise, his magic began to fluctuate wildly in concert, ready to lash out at the first sign of danger. He knew it wouldn't do much good though. Even if his magic sought to protect him, it wouldn't be able to last very long against the Death Eaters. Voldemort would have made sure there was enough wizards present to eventually over power him, even if he hadn't come himself. And since it was only the first hour of his magical maturity, his magic wouldn't have received the entirety of the boost every wizard got when their magic finished maturing. The increase came over time, which hadn't had sufficient time to pass. Meaning Harry and his magic didn't stand a chance.

These were Harry's last thoughts before the lock clicked and the door to his closet was flung open. Looking up, he found himself staring up into the blood colored eyes of his greatest foe, causing his fear to rise ever higher and adrenaline to race through his veins. Harry hadn't even bothered to get up from his position curled at the bottom of the closet. That changed when his enemy's sickly pale, skeletal hand moved to point a wand made of yew in his direction. Harry's magic burst forth in a sudden rush, causing Voldemort to crash into the wall opposite the closet. Harry went from lying down to dashing down the hall and towards the door faster than one would have expected from his small frame. He was, of course, pursued closely by Death Eaters, but his magic flared out, ready to push them away if they got too close for comfort. He had almost made it out the door by the time one of the Death Eaters remembered his wand and cast a stunning spell that hit him squarely on the back. He hit his head quite hard as fell to the floor in a heap. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the maliciously grinning face of Lord Voldemort looming over him.

Chapter 1

-approximately 1 ½ years later-

Harry stared at his tormentors vacantly as they argued, his remaining left eye inscrutable. A long scar ran from the outer corner of his empty right eye socket, hugging his elegant cheekbone and tapering to an end just before it reached his jaw. It wasn't particularly ugly, and rather resembled a tear streak. He had been lucky there was no damage to his eyelid when it happened. Terrible scars could be seen all over his arms, legs and torso, most of them long, either carved by a knife, a whip, or a curse, and some of them not completely healed. Metal cuffs around his ankles and wrists chained him to the wall. His glasses were long gone, and he was shirtless, his only remaining clothing the same pair of pants he'd arrived in, now torn and covered in blood and dirt. An evil looking collar made of a strange black metal with ancient looking symbols adorned his throat, having been placed there immediately upon his arrival at the place that was to be his prison. It was this dark device that kept his magic trapped underneath his skin, racing about trying to force its way out of its confines, and disconnected from his mind. It was quite painful to have his own magic beating him from the inside out as it tried to escape, but then again, it was meant to be. Hardly anything was done to in that did not have the purpose of causing pain.

Harry closed his eye for a moment when he saw the gang of Death Eaters begin to make their way towards him, mentally preparing himself for the pain that would undoubtedly come. Using magic to force him to the middle of the cell after releasing his chains, they immediately chained him again, this time to the ceiling. They had decided on whips today, surrounding him and starting off hard to make immediate long cuts, then going a bit softer, only barely enough to no longer make cuts. It might sound strange for torture to start harsh and grow gentler, if only slightly, but that wasn't really the case. The harsher starting strokes of the whip opened cuts on the back from the very beginning. The only reasoning behind the softer strokes was to keep from killing him, and the fact that despite being (slightly) softer, the following lashes were even more painful due to the fact that they landed on the premade cuts. Repeatedly.

All this torment Harry endured with no reaction. Not a word, not a sound, not any sudden clenching of muscles, or trembling, much to his tormenters' disappointment as they took turns with the whips. He had learned early on that, as sadistic as they were, it only served to spur them on. It was instinctive to him now, to remain completely silent and still, so as not to give them the upper hand. More than they already did anyway. However, not even he, with all his practice, could help a small flinch when they poured a tub of salt water directly over his fresh wounds, about an hour after they'd first started as far as he could tell. The intense, burning pain was what finally tipped him over the edge of unconsciousness. After one last bloody flick of the whip, his tormenters put him back in his original chains connected to the back wall of the cell before they left, their fun done now that he wasn't awake to feel the pain.

. . .

A few hours later as Harry still slept, unconscious from the Death Eaters' last bit of fun, his magic began to act strangely. It began speeding up from its usual pace as it circulated throughout his body, trying harder than ever to break free, while simultaneously ramming at the barrier that severed the link it had to Harry's mind. Faster and faster it went, lashing out strongly at the cursed collar keeping it a prisoner, and causing Harry's body to heat up at the speed with which it raced through his body. It had grown stronger while trapped than it would have normally, building up inside Harry's body and increasing his holding capacity for magic while it was unable to find release. Building up to this moment, the time it was finally strong enough to free itself. Which it did with a final surge of power at the cursed device around Harry's neck, causing it to break to pieces and fall from Harry's throat, and allowing it to finally connect to Harry's mind as it was meant to.

. . .

Harry woke with a jolt as his magic surged through his mind through the link, wanting only one thing: to keep Harry safe. This, in turn, meant getting away from Voldemort and his followers. Harry was quite a bit delirious from blood loss and the fever his magic had caused when it freed itself, but he found he agreed with those sentiments completely. So he stood up, a little wobbly, and made his way to the old wooden door of his cell, which his magic promptly unlocked for him. Then he simply walked out and went on his way. Any door in his way was unlocked by his magic and easily opened. If there were any locks spelled to prevent such actions, they were quickly overwhelmed by a burst of Harry's wild magic. The few Death Eaters Harry came across were disarmed and dispatched by his overflowing magic in a rapid fashion, until, finally, Harry was led out of the dungeon by his magic.

Things got a bit harder once he was free of the dungeons. Harry found himself in a very expensive looking mansion. From the numerous pale haired portraits scurrying about, he concluded, rather distantly, that he was in Malfoy Manor. He could tell from the windows he passed that it was either early morning or evening. Now that he was out in the open, there were far more enemies to deal with, though none of them were able get past his raging magic, even in groups. Having learned its lesson from the last time it was free, the magic tended to disarm or break his opponents' wands before going after the wizards themselves in various ways. Sometimes the enemy would be randomly stunned, and sometimes they would freeze up, stiff as a board, and fall to the ground, paralyzed. The thing that happened most often though, was Harry's magic lashing out and creating large, incapacitating wounds.

And so it continued, Harry struggling through hordes of enemies, while trying to find his way out, until he ran into a particular Death Eater that his magic did not see as a threat. Everyone else in that group was quickly dealt with, until the only one left was the one that his magic, strangely as it seemed, 'trusted'. Turning to face said Death Eater, he had enough time to see a pair vaguely familiar black eyes looking at him from behind one of Death Eater's customary white masks before his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. At this point, the blood loss and fever caught up with him once again, and despite, or perhaps because of the huge amount of magic coursing through him, he passed out once more.

. . .

Severus Snape had been having a relatively normal day. He'd frightened numerous students in his classes, made a few potions, and had even had some time to do some experimenting. The day had been slightly marred by the Order meeting he'd had to attend, where he'd been pestered relentlessly about finding where the Potter boy was being kept by the Dark Lord, especially by Granger and the Weasleys. He'd told them repeatedly that he was too close to Albus Dumbledore for the Dark Lord to trust him with Potter's whereabouts, but they persisted as if they didn't hear him, and acted as if it was his fault that they didn't have they didn't have their precious Golden Boy back yet, after almost 1 ½ years of searching.

He'd just made it back to his lab to check on the delicate potion he was brewing when his Dark Mark had burned with the pain that was the Dark Lord's barbaric way of summoning his Death Eaters. He immediately banished the potion, as it would explode if still left alone in ten minutes, then proceeded to summon a house elf to leave with a message to Dumbledore, telling him of the Dark Lord's summons. He positioned his routine sneer on his face to cover a grimace of pain as he walked through the halls, out the doors, then out the gates of the grounds, where he apparated to where the Dark Lord was summoning him to.

He was somewhat surprised to find himself in the room that served as the apparition point of Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord's headquarters had been at Riddle Manor for quite some time now, as Dumbledore would never suspect Voldemort of voluntarily being anywhere near something that reminded him of his muggle father. Even more surprising were all the masked Death Eaters he saw running about like headless chickens. Curious, he grabbed the arm of a passing Death Eater.

"What's going on?" he asked acidly. Clearly a newbie, the young wizard flinched at his harsh tone of voice, and stuttered when he spoke.

"T-the P-p-potter boy has e-escaped the d-dungeons. We're to c-c-catch him before he l-leaves the M-m-m-manor." The young Death Eater jerked his arm free upon finishing, and ran off in the direction all the others were heading.

Severus was too stunned to move for a few moments as his mind processed the information he had just been given. Then he rushed off, following the trail of Death Eaters. As he ran through the halls, he began to see Death Eaters immobilized on the ground, having clearly come out the worst in a fight. Some of them he recognized, such as the Lestrange brothers and Nott. The numbers of defeated Death Eaters grew as he progressed, until he came across a group that was still standing; for the moment anyway. They were attacking a filthy and scarred boy wearing only a tattered pair of sweatpants. Despite their superior numbers, they didn't stand a chance against the nearly visible magic writhing about in the air around the boy, and were quickly taken care of.

The group of Death Eaters that Severus had joined along the way quickly launched their own attack, hoping to gain the Dark Lord's favor by capturing the runt. Severus stepped forward as well so as not to seem suspicious. The magic surrounding the boy rendered the attacking Death Eaters unconscious, and Severus fully expected to join them on the ground. To his surprise, when the last Death Eater other than him was felled, the boy made no move against him. He watched with barely concealed curiosity and dread as the boy turned to him, and had only a few seconds to take in the scarred face and single remaining green eye belonging to Harry Potter before the boy fainted.

Acting quickly and not allowing himself time to think, Severus disillusioned the overly skinny boy, then picked him up before running as quickly as he could with his burden towards the apparation point. He reached it with surprising ease, probably because Potter had already taken out most of the Death Eaters. Disappparating in the same elaborate room he'd appeared in, he left Malfoy Manor with the previously missing teenager in his arms. Severus was astonished by the sheer number of scars that he noticed as he headed to the infirmary after apparating back to the gates of Hogwarts. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about running into students as it was now after curfew. The boy was also far too light, but that was to be expected after more than a year as the Dark Lord's personal guest.

He was jerked from his musings when he arrived at the infirmary, and he felt a strangely powerful sense of relief as he burst through the doors. Severus saw Poppy came out of her office, a scolding prepared to leave her lips, only to be swallowed when she saw him and the condition of the underweight boy he was placing on one the white hospital beds. She took only a moment to send an elf off to inform Albus before rushing to cast diagnostic spells on the boy, who had started convulsing wildly on the bed. Somehow the boy's magic deflected her all of her spells, not allowing her to get any readings, or even heal the boy on the bed, who she had distantly noted was Harry Potter. So it was with a great amount of relief that Poppy greeted the Headmaster with when he arrived.

"Albus," she said frantically, "I can't help him! It's as if my spells are being deflected every time I try to do something! He's losing blood and he has a high fever!" Dumbledore's usually cheerful face was grave and pale as he cast several spells on the severely injured boy, who he had recognized immediately as his surrogate grandson. When he was done he stepped away from the convulsing boy with a weary sigh.

"I'm afraid, Poppy, that there is nothing we can do," he said in a more serious voice than either Severus or Poppy had ever heard him use. "It would seem that Voldemort used a dark artifact to keep young Harry's magic bound while he was captured. Since he was captured on his birthday, and I imagine this artifact would have been on him the entire time, the whole time his magic was growing with his inheritance, it was unable to find release. Having such a large amount of magic growing while bound in his body would have killed anyone else, but Harry has an unusual connection to his magic that has never been seen before in any witch or wizard. This connection allowed his magic to expand his capacity for it instead killing him.

I believe that once the magic within him had grown enough, it was able to break free of the dark object that kept it confined. Now that it is free, it sees any foreign magic as a threat, which is why your magic didn't work Poppy. The reason his body is convulsing is like this," he said, gesturing towards Harry," is that he isn't used to being connected to his magic after how long it was kept from him, let alone the large amount it has grown to." As he finished his explanation, his face was incredibly sad, an expression that was mirrored by Poppy. Severus' face showed as little emotion as usual, though his posture seemed a bit defeated. They were helpless to do anything for thrashing teenager, and none of them much liked the feeling, even Professor Snape, who professed to hate him. With nothing to do but watch in hopes that his condition might change, that is what they did. Each of them could see the abnormally large amount of terrible scars covering his body. They noticed each and every one of them, from his missing eye and the subsequent scar on his cheek, to the newest ones that were still oozing blood onto the contrastingly white sheets. Until they saw small glimmers of a mixture of silver, gold, and pearl tracing the wounds.

They stood around the bed, watching with awe as Harry's magic began to take on the beautiful color, and were able to see that it was slowly healing the wounds before it grew to envelope his body completely. It thickened to the point where they couldn't see any part of him through it. When Poppy reached forward to touch it, her finger sank only a few centimeters in before they could go no further.

"It's warm," she murmured softly, clearly astonished, with a small smile on her face at the wonderful feeling of the magic before she pulled away. The relief in the room was palpable. "I suppose all we can do is wait for him now." Albus nodded in agreement, and so did Severus, strangely enough. She conjured three comfortable chairs and sat in one while the others did the same, settling down to wait for the special boy to awaken.

A/N – This story was not Beta'd, so I apologized for any mistakes. Please review, and feel free to critique my writing.