Chapter 1 - "You've got a Brand of Magic Never Fails"

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, even the prompt.

Prompt is taken from Tsume Yuki's "Ain't Never Had a Friend Like Me." But with my own spin. I do have permission from Tsume Yuki for said spin. I also realize this prompt has been responded too before. I've read most that I've found. They're great. Go read them too.

It started in the Department of Mysteries… but doesn't it always?

No, wait. That was wrong. It started at the Battle for Hogwarts, when I died for the first time (or was it the second time?)

Wait…. Maybe it started before that. Much… much before that.

But I suppose you're wondering what IT is, huh?

Well, it started like this…

"What do you mean I'm stuck here?" Harry turned to the personification of Death that was taking up residence inside of the tiny bottle that he was, apparently, now stuck in.

IT'S LIKE I SAID, MASTER. YOU'RE STUCK HERE.

The voice that responded to Harry's inquiry was like the keel of a death bell. However, Harry was used to it by now.

"But how did that happen? Aren't you DEATH, Can't you get me out?" His voice sounded like a whine, but he was nearly 40 years old—for all that he still looked 17—and he did NOT whine.

MASTER, MY POWER DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY.

If Death sounded like anything other than, well, Death, there would have been a sigh somewhere in those words. As it was, it was pretty monotone and flat for all that it sounded like coffin lids slamming.

"Well that's stupid, I don't want to be stuck in here." Definitely sounded like whining now. There was even a little pout to his lips, arms folded over a small, thin chest.

The black mass of robes that made up the personification of Death moved in a motion that could be considered a shrug. At least, Harry considered it that way.

"What do I do now? You can't get me out, I can't get me out. I'm stuck in a bottle—like…" There was a pause as Harry seemed to finally fully grasp his situation. "Bloody hell, I'm a GENIE?!"

MORE LIKE A JINN, BUT GENIE WORKS TOO.

'Who taught Death sarcasm?' Harry thought as he threw an angry, and slightly bewildered look, at Death.

"Just…. Shut up. Let me think." Death nodded, or made a gesture similar to it, while Harry adopted a stereotypical thinking pose.

Time passed. Who knows how much. It was hard to tell in the bottle.

"Does my magic still work in here?" Was the question that Harry eventually posed to Death. "Even if I can't leave?"

OF COURSE MASTER. YOU'VE GOT A BRAND OF MAGIC THAT NEVER FAILS.

There was definitely a smirk in those words, but mostly it vanished under the sounds of the old bell of Death's voice.

"Fucking Disney." Harry muttered, waving his hands around to make the inside of the bottle more comfortable. At least he hadn't gotten hungry or anything yet.

Time passed, as time is wont to do. Death had not stuck around, but neither had Harry really. Somehow, time inside the bottle passed very different from outside of the bottle. What seemed like a few days had apparently been a few years—at least according to the calendar Harry was able to take a gander at once some unlucky sap had rubbed his lamp (that's what she said?).

Several people had actually rubbed his lamp (giggity) but Harry refused to grant their wishes. He wasn't that type of Jinn, and none of the people who let him out showed him any kind of respect. Nor did they deserve his magic to be used that way. The lamp didn't make it so he HAD to grant their wishes, however it did give them control over putting him back inside the bottle. That part sucked. But Harry didn't have to do what they said, so they usually just tossed him away after realizing he wouldn't do what they wanted.

It was the latest Minister of Magic who had his lamp last, and she had tossed his bottle rather severely. Through the bloody Veil (it's always the bloody Veil). At least that's what Death had told Harry after it happened. Harry didn't feel anything different inside the bottle. He probably would outside, but no one had found his bottle quite yet.

Yet.

It was a perfectly normal, sunny day in Konoha. Birds were chirping, Ninja were roof hopping. The Hokage was smoking his pipe. Kakashi was reading porn. Gai was shouting about youth. Naruto was digging through the trash. Normal.

Long before Naruto knew what a nindo was, he subscribed to the belief that 'One man's trash is another man's treasure.' That was how he had found most of the things in his apartment. And a lot of his ninja gear. For example, he just wait an hour or so after a pair of chunin were done sparring, then go into the training field and pick up everything that was left behind. Some items were bent, but most just blunted and nicked, so they merely needed a good sharpen. Naruto could do that. He was good at that. Resourceful. That's why he was digging through the trash again.

An old, widowed, kunoichi had finally passed away. Two years before, when her son had died, Naruto had managed to get some good ninja clothes from her trash. A little wash, a little dye, and presto: new clothes for Naruto. Now that she had passed, her daughter was throwing away so much stuff… and Naruto knew it would be a gold mine.

He had his backpack with him, with a few storage scrolls he had pilfered from a trashcan near the Hot Spring—why they had been there, he had no idea, but they still worked after a small touch up of the ink, so he wasn't complaining—and he was taking SO much stuff. It wasn't stealing, merely… reacquisition.

Naruto was about to finish for the night, because he could see the dawn was eminent, and he wanted to hit up the grocery store on the south side that sometimes threw away mostly good fruits and vegetables, when he hit the mother lode—at least in his opinion. See, Naruto loved when he found unique items in his 'hauls', and this bottle that he had just fished out of the garbage was one of the most unique things he had ever seen. Parts of it were so black, it sucked away the light, but other parts seemed to sparkle like the stars in the sky above him. It was dirty, but so much of what Naruto found was so he didn't even care.

Quickly, he shoved it into his backpack, gathered up his scrolls full of goodies, and bolted back to his apartment. When he arrived, he dumped out his entire backpack in his haste and quickly went about organizing the items. Naruto wanted everything where it belonged—he was surprisingly well organized for a 10 year old—on the right shelf, and in the right box, before he started to clean up his prize.

Once Naruto had finished with that, the sun had peaked over the horizon. With a forlorn look cast at the bottle, sitting center on his kitchen table, he sighed and went to bed. The bottle wouldn't be going anywhere, and he needed at least two hours of sleep before going to the academy.

Academy that day was uneventful. He didn't have much to eat for lunch, since he hadn't gone to the grocery dumpster the night before, but Naruto could barely focus—less than usual anyway—because all he wanted to do was go home and clean his new bottle. Maybe he would pick some of the wildflowers by the river before going home so he had something to put in it once it was clean…

The second the bell had rung, Naruto had bolted out of there. His dazed, happy look, and rush to leave put Iruka on edge—had to be another prank—but even Iruka's yell to wait didn't stop Naruto. Not when he had a shiny at home to make shiny again.

Flying up the stairs to his apartment, he quickly unlocked the door and made sure his bottle was still there. He smiled, cleaned up from a long day at school, and then grabbed his cleaning supplies. After grabbing the bottle, he went to where he had his low table set up in his bedroom and sat on the floor. With the balcony, there was better light and air flow in there than in his kitchen.

Turning the bottle over in his hands, he tested the lid to see if it would come off and if he could use it for flowers. The answer: no. The lid was stuck.

"Oh well," Naruto muttered to himself as he prepared a bucket to soak the bottle's exterior, "It will still look cool on my shelf."

Fifteen minutes later, Naruto was ready to start wiping the bottle down. Imagine his surprise went out of the bottle flowed a glittering smoke that took the shape of a small…. Woman?

The boy who would one day become the most unpredictable ninja was left speechless.

"Oy. Shut your gob, or flies are going to land in there," a distinctly masculine voice came out of the … woman?

Naruto jumped to his feet and shouted, his brain finally having restarted after a few blinks.

"You're a genie!" Was the shout, even accompanied by a point.

"If you say so, Captain Obvious." That voice was definitely male. And it had an accent. A weird accent, not that Naruto knew the differences between them. Just that he sounded like no one he had heard in all of Konoha, even when going through the Merchant's district.

Harry, for his part, was looking around the room he had landed in. After coming out of the bottle, he could finally feel the differences between England and here. There was so much more wild energy in the air, it would have made his hair stand on end if it had been short—kind of like the blond shouter in front of him. Harry thanked himself again for the idea to grow his hair long. It helped tame his hair, especially when plaited.

Anyway, Harry could tell that this world was different. There was a distinctly Asian feel to it. If he hadn't been told by Death ages ago that 'Death spoke all languages, because Death came for Everyone' Harry would have been worried about a language barrier, but that was just one of the perks of being the Master of Death, apparently. Maybe one of the only perks…

Harry needed to stop getting distracted. He turned back to the blond, who had been gaping at Harry. A smile flashed across his youthful features as he took in the current holder of his lamp. Never before had a kid rubbed his lamp. That made him smile. Taking a good look at the kid however made him start to frown.

"Kid, where are your parents?" Harry asked, cutting off whatever Naruto had been about to say.

"Ain't got none," Naruto replied, not even mad about it, or the fact he'd been interrupted. It was par for the course for him. "I'm an orphan." Because it needed to be reiterated.

"Huh." Harry didn't comment much more on that, moving to sit down on the floor like he's seen Blondie doing a moment ago. "What's your name?"

Once more, whatever Naruto had been about to say was cut off by the genie who had come out of his new bottle—lamp, actually, since there was a genie in it.

"Uzumaki Naruto! And I'm gonna be Hokage!" The double response wasn't quite automatic for Naruto yet, but it would be in the future.

Harry had no idea what a Fire Shadow was, so simply wished the boy luck on that before replying with his own name.

"What kind of name is Needle?" Naruto asked, taking a seat across from his genie.

"What kind of name is Fishcake?" Harry retorted with a raised eyebrow.

Naruto blinked, then scowled. "I use the characters for Maelstrom!"

"And I'm not Japanese, so we're even. Just Harry." The Genie replied.

"Harry is a weird name for a girl." Naruto was pretty sure the genie wasn't a girl—not with a deep voice like that—however, all the other feature on the genie: the long hair, the pretty face, the big eyes. Those pointed to the genie being a girl. Heck, the genie was almost prettier than Sakura!

Apparently the genie didn't like being called a girl. The genie puffed up in anger, or would have had his...? Her? Their long hair hadn't been tied back in a braid.

"I'M NOT A GIRL! JUST BECAUSE I'M SHORT DOESN'T MEAN I'M A GIRL!"

"You also have long hair." Naruto pointed out with absolutely no tack.

"BOYS CAN HAVE LONG HAIR TOO! JUST LOOK AT…" Harry paused here, "Wait, do you know who…" And he rattled off the name of a man who was pretty famous before he got trapped in his bottle.

The blond blinked slowly, then shook his head. "Though I know some of those weird byaku-whatever eyed Hyuuga's have long hair. So I guess you're right, Genie-chan." Naruto sure does like the taste of his foot, eh?

It was Harry's turn to blink slowly. "I have no idea who or what you're talking about." The name that Naruto had given Harry was lost on him, since the 'All-speak' or 'Death language' or whatever the hell it was that was allowing Harry to understand the blond kid didn't translate the name well.

Naruto stared at the Genie before him… and shrugged. If the genie didn't understand—and granted, his understanding was passing at best. He knew he had a classmate with those eyes, but the name of those eyes seemed to elude him—then him not understanding didn't matter either.

"So, Genie-chan. Do I get some wishes, or what?"

AN: I wanted to end a few times. I'm ending here. Sorry for mistakes?