Capítulo 1028: Padfoot And Hound by SayItAll
Summary:
A day after the Kyuubi-attack, the ANBU Hound wakes up in 1993's England, where he finds a half-starved dog at the coast. It's Padfoot's lucky day.
Sirius tries to evade capture, find his godson and the traitor, and maybe also prove his innocence. Kakashi just wants to find his way home from this odd country that does not speak his language nor even write in his alphabet.
Notes:
What was I thinking!?
This is my first time ever writing a crossover fanfiction. But apparently, once I have an idea in my head, it does not want to leave… I do not have a beta reader (yet), so I'm open for anybody who wants to give it a try. Also posting schedule will be a bit all over the place. I write in bouts, so there might be breaks in between chapters. However, I'll try to keep some regularity going. It also (I am honest) depends a bit on how well this is received.
Normally I don't read a lot of Crossover – never mind write it – but I recently saw a few Naruto X Harry Potter Crossovers which worked surprisingly well. I've also only recently realized how remarkably similar Sirius and Kakashi are. Two dog-people who have lost their friends, who blame themselves for their deaths, who go through depression and loneliness before they can find a new pack. There are ridiculous little similarities, like for example that both take 12 years until they finally get to meet the orphaned sons of their lost loved ones again. After that, I just had to throw them together and see where it went. I'm not sure yet, where it goes exactly, it's a write in progress.
This is a bit of a budding Adventure between Fresh-out-of-Askaban Sirius and 14-year-old post-Kyuubi-attack Kakashi. Right, Kakashi is still a kid so I don't intend to turn this into a slash fic. Also, I'm not 100% certain yet, but I definitely think about putting Kakashi into Hogwarts for a few months. What makes this crossover so exciting for me, is not just how similar they are, but also how strikingly different the morals of their worlds are. Sirius himself has suffered tremendously, but that aside, the world of Naruto is a much more brutal, unforgiving and cruel one. Therefore, Kakashi is in many ways much more screwed up than anybody Sirius' has ever met. I want to challenge Sirius' morality. I want him to question what makes a good person. The morality of the world of Harry Potter is more black-and-white one, compared to Naruto's shades of grey. As for Kakashi… He's a 14-year-old who needs a lot of cuddles.
I decided to let this all play out during Prisoner of Azkaban, not only because I think that's the most exciting year for Sirius, but also because that way I can mostly avoid the Voldemort/Death Eater-conflict. I think Kakashi (even as a teenager) is quite a powerhouse and would probably deal with Voldemort rather easily. Helping Sirius is a much more difficult task.
I don't use the Trigger Warnings because I'm not quite sure if any of them apply quite yet. There is of course ample death in the backstories of both characters, but I'm not sure if it warrants a TW yet. Both Kakashi and Sirius have to deal with depression, there will be angst and hurt so be prepared for that, I guess. If anything surprisingly brutal or problematic happens, I'll give a TW before the chapter.
And now have fun.
Russian Translation
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1: ISummary:
Sirius escapes from Azkaban.
Chapter Text
Minato-sensei! Kushina-nee! Where were they? He had to find them, he had to find them, now! And Naruto. Baby-Naruto, was he already born? Had everything gone well?
Stupid, stupid, useless question. The Kyuubi somehow got free, of course it hadn't gone well. Something must have happened. Kakashi knew it. He knew it in his heart! And yet…
Yet, he hoped to find them unharmed. This was Minato-sensei after all. Every shinobi in Konoha – he was sure – had seen the battle rage over the village. They had seen how Minato protected them from sheer destruction. And none had seen him die. Kakashi was sure of it. His sensei had not died. Neither had Kushina – she can't have!
Don't be naïve. You're not a child anymore. She's the Jinchuriki. When the Bijuu is extracted, the Jinchuriki dies.
He knew that. Kushina-nee was the Kyuubi's Jinchuriki. The demon beast was sealed within her. And yet, Kakashi had clearly seen it rampage through the village, the nine-tailed fox. A demon made of swirling red chakra destroying everything in its wake.
Kakashi jumped from roof top to roof top. He had separated from the group of his peers where they stood hidden away from the beast under order to stay safe – as they were the young generation supposed to lead the village into the future. But how could he stay back, how could he not fight, when his sensei, his sensei's wife and their unborn child were in danger? The only family he still had, the only remnants of a team that was dead dead dead. Dead, because of him. Because Kakashi had failed them – caused their deaths – killed them. The only one who had survived was Minato-sensei. So, there was no way Kakashi could just stay back.
His left eye was itching. Obito's eye.
He knew where Kushina was supposed to give birth. The hidden away shelter where sealing specialists and medical ninja had prepared the safest way for her to give birth without breaking the Kyuubi's seal. Clearly something had gone wrong. Clearly all these specialists had failed. The Kyuubi had broken free, was rampaging in the city. And then he was gone…
He was gone now. The fight was over. One second the beast stood gigantic and deadly over their village, fighting his sensei and the next it was gone. And his sensei was gone with it. What had happened?
The cold night air made his throat ache from the effort of… running? Or was that his panic that made him pant? Surely, he was not that exhausted?
Kakashi was almost there now. Just out of the village and through a small patch of woods into the clearing—
Obito's eye was itching behind the headband that kept it hidden from sight…
He had not seen it! He had not seen it! Not with the Sharingan. And yet, Minato's and Kushina's dying moments were forever edged into his mind. In clear detail. The Kyuubi's fang had ripped their backs and stomachs open, blood dripping everywhere. When Kakashi found them, the beast was already gone and his sensei and Kushina-nee lay embracing each other taking their final breath, right next to the wailing baby boy.
**
"I cannot allow that, I'm afraid." The Hokage's voice rang sympathetic but no less final. "He is the Yellow Flash's child. He will have enemies. The best way to protect him would be to keep his identity safe."
"I can keep him safe," Kakashi replied in a steady tone, although he felt anything but steady. He had not felt steady since Minato-sensei had died. Minato and Kushina both. Leaving Naruto an orphan. "I'm ANBU."
The third Hokage's eyes rested on him with a sort of regretful pity that made Kakashi sick with nausea. "Exactly, you are ANBU. Your obligations lay elsewhere."
"Then I retire," he said quickly. "Put me back on regular duty." He had no interest in that. ANBU was where he belonged now. He had a new team there. They called him Friend-killer and didn't see him as much more than a young upstart child, but this was where he belonged. This was where he fit in. He brought nothing but death, so where else but in the darkest part of the shinobi world would he belong in? The mundane Jonin duties… that meant he'd get a different team. One with real names instead of code names, with faces instead of masks. A bunch of young Chunin with wide eyes, naïve and bright with dreams. It would mean that sooner or later the Hokage would assign a Genin team to him. Children who'd look up to him for guidance… He had no interest in that, but he would accept it for the young child who – in a different universe – might have been his brother.
"Kakashi…" The Hokage shook his head. "You're only fourteen."
Kakashi's hands balled into fists. "I'm old enough," he insisted, "old enough to—" To what? To fight in a war? To kill? To be killed?
None of that qualified him to raise a child. He didn't know the first thing about raising a child. What was he thinking? He didn't even like children. He hadn't gotten along with them when he was one himself, and he surely didn't understand them any better now. Never mind who he was. He brought nothing but death to those he loved. What did he want with Naruto? He'd destroy him!
He felt suddenly selfish. This was his sensei's kid, and Kakashi was just a step away from ruining his life. Because that was what he would do inevitably. Instead of asking to raise the child, he should ask to be as far away from him as possible.
"I understand," he finally relented his fists opening again. His hands felt empty. He felt empty. "I… Please excuse my…" But he did not find the words.
The hokage's eyes still were upon him with that same pity and understanding. "I'm sorry, Kakashi. When he gets older, you will get to know Naruto."
But Kakashi shook his head. When Naruto was old enough to become a shinobi himself… Kakashi should stay far away from him – preferably he would be dead then. What should he do for twelve more years? There was nothing left. Nobody.
Obito's eye was itching. It didn't stop itching. It hadn't stopped since Minato-sensei's death. Or maybe since Rin's?
"Take some time off, boy," the Hokage said.
Kakashi wanted to object, but it hadn't been a mere suggestion. The hokage's voice hadn't quite carried the authority for an order either. But still… Kakashi was nothing if not a dutiful shinobi. He would do as he was told. "What should I do?" he asked instead.
The old man looked back at him with a sad frown on his forehead. "Maybe you can spend some time with young Guy? I'm sure he's already looking for you." At Kakashi's grimace, he continued, "or help rebuilding the village."
The second suggestion sounded nice, Kakashi thought. He could help rebuild. Kakashi had been trained for war, for assassinations and sabotage, for quiet infiltration or espionage and the odd security guard mission. Rebuilding his home sounded like a nice change. Peaceful, now that the war had finally ended.
"Thank you, sir." He hadn't asked for vacation. He didn't want it. But it was proper manners to show gratitude for it anyway.
As he left the hokage building he was absentmindedly scratching the cloth of his headband where it covered the eye.
"DYNAMIC—"
He ducked under Guy's attack with little effort. The boy had been waiting outside the hokage building as it seemed.
"You're always so cool, my eternal rival." Guy's voice was rich with conviction and a sort of challenging admiration. "Fight me!"
"Not now," Kakashi said unimpressed. With his hands in his pockets he strolled past the boy and towards the main street of Konohagakure.
"It's 17 to 11 currently, your lead" Guy declared quickly catching up to him. "You won the last four matches. But I've been training hard, and today is my—"
"Not today, Guy," Kakashi interrupted him. He didn't even find the energy to be annoyed at Guy's antics.
Obito's eye was itching.
"Come on, my rival!" Guy pleaded.
Guy put a hand on his shoulder, trying to make Kakashi look at him. He was all smiles and bushy eyebrows and that horrendous green jumpsuit. Kakashi knew he could not win this. If nothing else, that was the one aspect he could never beat Guy at – and he didn't even know if Guy in his constant pursuit to find things he was better at than Kakashi, ever considered that his stubbornness and tenacity was just that. There was no way to appease him, other than to give in.
Shrugging his shoulders, Kakashi stopped, then looked around. "Okay. On three. Whoever arrives atop the Hokage Monument first wins."
Guy stared at him, then his grin broadened even further, widening to fill his entire face. His eyes sparkled with excitement. "That's a worthy challenge my eternal rival! Give the countdown." Kakashi felt a little guilty.
Kakashi readied himself. "Three – Two – One." He made two steps, and then he stopped. Guy was already off. Not two meters from where they ha started, Kakashi came to a complete halt only able to see the cloud of dust settle behind Guy.
He had no energy for this. He could not do this. Not now, and truth be told, he hadn't felt any excitement or rush in these challenges ever since Rin… Occasionally he still did them for Guy, but there was nothing in them for Kakashi anymore. Before, when they were children, Kakashi had been surprised, mildly annoyed but also somewhat proud at being considered a rival to his peers. Later after his father's death, he had only seen these challenges as an annoyance and then, after Obito's death, he had started to make an effort. Obito's death had left him with an intense wish to connect. And Guy made it easy to do just that. It had even been fun at times, no matter how unimpressed he liked to act.
But now…
There was a disconnect. He could not do this anymore. He could not play these games, race Guy to the Hokage mountain or fight him in a battle of brawn or wit and pretend like it mattered at all who won. No matter who arrived at the top of the mountain first, Minato-sensei, Kushina-nee, Rin and Obito, his parents they would still be dead. Naruto would stay an orphan. What was the point? And what was the point in connecting with Guy, if in the end he would end up dead like the others. This wide-eyed, bright eyed excitement, Kakashi could not stand it. He would destroy it.
Guy was his own age and yet he seemed so young. Still chasing his dreams.
Kakashi had no dreams to chase.
And Obito's eye was still itching.
**
For just a moment he had been enticed to go see Naruto. Just once, just to make sure he was alright and taken care of. But then he caught himself. Shaking his head, Kakashi's feet carried him through the streets of the destroyed village without him paying much attention.
He froze when he realized where they had led him. Home… He had not been back here for years. What point was there in an empty home? Still, he did not turn around. Instead, he entered the old Hatake house. His father's house. "I'm home," he called out to the empty rooms. There was no reply apart from the creaking of the old floorboards below his feet. A layer of dust covered everything. He could see clouds of it puff up from under his feet. Maybe that was the reason, he chose to keep his shoes on. He did not want to stay here. He didn't even know what he was doing here.
Curiously, as if there was anything for him to find, he made his way through the rooms. The kitchen, the old living room, his own room much smaller. He pushed the doors to his father's bedroom open, but he never stepped inside. Then he stood in front of the study. Obito's eye was itching.
The room was empty. There in the center of it, he could see him, slumped over his own sword, blood pooling under the body. No, the room was empty. No body, no blood, clean like the last time he had seen it. Blood on the Tatami mats…No!
Obito's eye… Kakashi clutched his hand over the covered eye. It hurt! His vision was warping, twisting, then he saw black. He was falling.
**
"He's in Hogwarts." He's been saying it like a mantra for days now. He's in Hogwarts. Peter was in Hogwarts. The rat. Harry and Peter both. The boy was in danger.
"He's in Hogwarts."
Sirius had to go. He had to protect his godson. The only family he had left. The only one who had not forsaken him. No…
You don't know that. He might have. If they told him about you, he'll hate you like the rest of them. He won't want to have anything to do with you.
Did it matter? So what if the boy hated him? Sirius still had to protect him. Who else would be there to do that? Who else would even know about the rat hiding away in Hogwarts waiting for the chance to strike? Nobody! Sirius was the only one who knew and no matter what Harry thought of him, no matter what would happen to him, he would protect his godson.
It was what he should have done all along. And yet, Sirius hadn't done anything for the boy. His parents, James and Lily, they had wanted Sirius to take care of their son in case something happened to them. They'd wanted him to raise Harry. And what had Sirius done? After all that James had done for him – his best friend, his brother – Sirius was the reason they were dead now. Sure, Peter had betrayed them, Peter had sold them out to Voldemort, yet it'd been Sirius who suggested to make Peter their secret keeper. And he'd felt so smart about it.
They were supposed to think it is me. They would have hunted me down, interrogated me, tortured me. And meanwhile, Peter could hide away; the Potters would be safe.
He'd felt so smart. Like he'd fooled them all. Yet, he'd been the fool. They were dead because of him. He might have just as well done the deed himself.
Maybe that was the reason why he'd so quietly accepted his fate. Maybe that was the reason he'd been fine with Azkaban for so long. It was a form of repentance. And surely, it must've counted for something. When Moony came… That one time, a year after his incarceration, he hadn't even really tried to defend himself.
"I'm innocent."
But his voice had been hollow and without conviction. What worth was it to be innocent when the guilt weighed on him, nonetheless? He was innocent of murder, innocent of treason, sure. His crime was being a fool and he had caused Lily and James' death just as much as Peter the traitor and Voldemort the murderer. Without him—
He'd gone over that a dozen times. In Azkaban there was little to do other than suffering and lamenting the what-ifs. What was the point of it all? This endless self-pity? Rotting away in Azkaban, he hadn't done Harry any good. Judging by the date, the boy had lived for two years with Peter in Hogwarts. Peter could have killed him anytime. Why he hadn't done it already, Sirius didn't know. Probably too coward. But at the first sign of his master's comeback… Sirius was sure, at the first sign that the vile deed would bring him glory or his master's mercy, Peter would do it. He'd kill the boy himself or betray him to Voldemort the way he had his parents.
"He's in Hogwarts!" They both were. Hogwarts was, where he was needed.
Sirius stomach rumbled with hunger. He hadn't eaten ever since he saw the article in the newspaper – the one that had informed him of Peter's current hiding place, safely tucked away as the pet rat of one of the Weasley children. He hadn't eaten so he'd fit through the bars. Already, right after he got his hands on the newspaper, he'd almost been there. Almost able to fit through, but not quite.
He should—
Before he could decide to try again, he noticed the frost creeping up the iron bars of his cell. Dementors… They were coming… They were coming.
"Sirius! How could you! Lily and James" Peter's voice in his head.
He was stumbling through the ruins of the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow. They had to be safe! But he was too late. He knew he was too late, because he saw the ruins, the clear evidence of the attack, and he didn't hear anybody fighting anymore. It was over. He was too late.
He found James – his best friend, his brother, Prongs – down just at the foot of the stairs, crumbled half over it, and then carelessly pushed to the side. His torso hung between the bars of the handrail; his legs splayed wide apart over the white tile floor. Sirius' vision was blurring from hysteric tears as he tried to pull his best friend out of the awkward position. It was demeaning, like he'd just been thrown away like trash. James was no trash! He was the most magnificent human being Sirius had ever met. He deserved better. He deserved all the happiness in the world, he deserved for his family to be healthy and whole!
His family… The sight of his best friend had made Sirius forget almost all else. He could not help James, he knew. James was dead, and with his feeble hands and blurred vision, Sirius was even failing at freeing him off his demeaning position. Lily might still be alive – Harry… James would kick his ass, if he'd ever find out, Sirius hadn't looked for them first. James… wouldn't ever do anything anymore.
He found Lily in the nursery. Unlike James, she was laid out on the floor, her eyes closed already. She looked asleep. She looked peaceful. She looked as if she'd been laid to rest respectfully, not haphazardly thrown away like James. In fact, she looked fine. So much so, that Sirius didn't think she was dead at all, despite the pallor of her skin. He checked her pulse. Checked her breathing. His hands were trembling so hard. Desperately, he pulled his wand, to check magically if she was alive, willing her to be alive.
Enervate. Enervate…
Nothing. Shaking, he looked up—
Right into a pair of green eyes, wide and alert. Lily's eyes…
"How could you! Lily and James!" Bam! Blood and the crater and the smoldering ruins of the street, and his own laughter bubbling over the scene of the destruction.
He finally managed to transform, wet tears on his cheeks, now staining his shaggy black fur. The memories didn't stop. But they were muted. Like he was witnessing them through a haze. He'd survived Azkaban for twelve years. He'd survive a few more hours.
**
Cold… The water was cold. He had plunged right into the raging waves. The weather and the sea weren't on his side, but from his cell he couldn't have known this, and now there was no way back, no second attempt. It would be this one, today, or never. He'd either succeed, or he'd drown trying to reach the shore. There was no turning around for him. This was a one-way trip.
If nothing else, the waves quickly washed the desperately paddling dog away from the horrible prison on a rough rock in the middle of the North Sea. Water beat him down, pushed him underwater, but the dog resurfaced. Sputtering and breathing in heavy gulps of air before he went under again.
He transformed, hoping his human form would give him a better chance against the forces of nature. Desperately, with what little strength he could wring out of his body he swam against the waves. The shore – he needed to get to the shore—
But he couldn't even see it. Water was burning in his eyes, he tasted salt in his throat. With each stroke of his arms, he told himself, just one more. With hands and bare feet, he pushed water away, but there was so much water in front of him—
His muscles – whatever was left of them after years of hunger and a week of complete starvation – were cramping. His own weight, the soaked prison garbs, the lethargy in his limbs was dragging him down. He didn't swim anymore, was hopelessly trying to keep above the surface. But there was water in his mouth, in his nose, down his throat— He swallowed it but there was more rushing in.
He saw only the black of the water around him, and he felt the cold of the sea…
Help! He thought! Help! He was drowning.
Cold…Cold… He'd been cold for twelve years… they were coming… they were coming. Instinctively, he turned into the shape of the big black dog.
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