Disclaimer: All portions of the HP universe/worlds/characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies. All portions of the Yujincho universe/worlds/characters are the property of Yuki Midorikawa and Hakusensha (publisher). This story is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written for my own enjoyment. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites.

Warnings: Mentions of character death, angst and drama, Silent!Harry, Powerful!Harry, Intelligent!Harry, Misguided!Dumbledore, not so bad but not perfect Dursleys, mild to moderate violence, bad language, alcohol, and suggestive themes in later chapters, some mild to moderate Ron bashing, and slightly AU on the HP side with a few changes to the Yujincho world as well.

AN: In the world of FanFiction crossovers, there are thousands of stories where Harry is adopted by long lost family from hundreds of different universes. Some of them are exceedingly well written and some of them leave much to be desired though the basic plot is always intriguing. I discovered the world of Natsume Yujincho while randomly looking for interesting anime with my youngest one day and I was hooked from the first episode.

I eventually went looking for HP (my first addiction) crossovers with Yujincho and was disappointed to find there was only one… I was disappointed that the author chose to so closely follow the plot of a single episode, practically word for word with Harry thrown in as a seeming afterthought. So I thought of what I would do if I were to throw Natsume and Potter together and this story is the result of that brainstorming and three months spent writing every chance I had (in between working on my other ongoing projects). This story literally wrote itself though and is the first stand alone epic I have ever written as I tend to write trilogies, series, or one shots.

Throughout the story you will find a little Japanese vocabulary tossed in here and there, however, I am not a native speaker and never formally took any classes in Japanese so I'm certain I've made mistakes here and there despite using google and various on-line translators, so I will apologize now and occasionally at the end of a chapter for any mangling I have done. Translations will be provided at the end of every chapter. That said, most of this story takes place in Japan and unless it is otherwise stated the characters will be speaking in Japanese when in Japan and speaking English when in England/Scotland.

I hope you enjoy the story. ~ Jenn

P.S. This story is self-beta'd; so there may be occasional grammatical or spelling errors that crop up every now and then and for those I apologize in advance.

Haunted
Prologue: A Night of Terror and Frustration

Little Whinging, Surrey, England
2:00 A.M. Friday, February 12, 1982

A small, muffled scream sounded as a tiny dark haired toddler with terrified green eyes dropped down out of his crib, slammed through the partially open door to his bedroom, and dashed recklessly into the hallway as if the devil himself were right on his heels. Pounding footsteps and frightened sobs echoed through the dark house as the child practically flew across the hallway, barreled down the staircase, skidded around the landing at the bottom of the stairs, and fled down a second, shorter hallway towards the kitchen. Halfway down the hall, the small boy stumbled to a stop in front of the small door that belonged to the small closet that had been built into the space beneath the staircase.

A single sliding bolt lock at the very top edge of the door, fixed in the locked position, jumped into the open position as if opened by unseen hands as the small boy's hands touched the handle of the door and desperately ripped open the door. Throwing himself through the door and into the closet, the boy slammed the door shut behind him, the sliding lock clicking back into place a second later though there was apparently no one else present other than the frightened child. Still sobbing and whimpering as ice cold tears fueled by pure terror poured down his face, the boy pushed his way through the many woolen jumpers, plastic rain slickers, and flannel jackets that hung from the rod that spanned the tallest section of the cupboard. His feet kicked about an assortment of rain boots, work boots, sneakers, and folded umbrellas as he burrowed his way towards the smallest section of the closest.

Once he had gone as far as he could go into the smallest part of the cupboard; the small boy curled up in a ball, wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, and began rocking back and forth. As he huddled fearfully inside the darkened closest the little boy begged and cried for his mummy and daddy; his words coming out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper as he silently wished for the monsters that hunted him to go away.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom, a light blossomed in the night as the man of the house sat up in bed and turned on his bedside lamp before he turned to address his wife of eight years, "He's at it again, Petunia. How am I supposed to get any sleep when that boy keeps screaming, crying, and running through the house each night? It's a miracle that boy didn't wake up Dudders this time! I thought we'd established that the 'monsters' he keeps seeing aren't real and that they can't hurt him? Even that blasted nightlight we purchased for the boy hasn't stopped him from making up those stories."

"I know, Vernon, dear," Petunia replied wearily. "I'm at my wits end in figuring out what to do with him. Every time I turn my back he's burrowing his way into the back of that blasted closest. I've tried locking it in order to keep him out but he somehow manages to get it unlocked each and every time; even though he's not yet tall enough to reach the sliding bolt."

"It's not natural, I tell you," Vernon groused as he adjusted the covers over his bulky body. "We've given him a perfectly suitable room, bought that old cot from Mrs. Figg for him to sleep in, and even gave him that old bear that Dudley didn't want so he'd have something to sleep with. And yet he spends ninety-five percent of the time hiding away in that ruddy closest crying about monsters that only he can see. I've got half a mind to tear the door out, fill in the closet with bricks, and seal up the entrance; or I would if I thought it might do any good. He needs to understand it's not normal to lock himself away in a cupboard; what will the neighbors think if they find out?"

"The neighbors already think I've gone round the bend; claiming we have a second boy living with us," Petunia bitterly reminded her husband. "I've actually stopped trying to explain why they never see him because of the pitying looks I get each time I bring him up in a conversation. I just don't understand why the boy refuses to step outside of the house; he won't even to go outside and play with Dudley in the backyard. Not even if I try bribing him with an ice pop. I don't know what I'm going to do when it comes time for him to take him for his annual check up at the clinic let alone once it is time for him to start school."

"Isn't there anyone else that could take him?" Vernon practically begged.

"No, both of my parents and all four of my grandparents were only children and all of them passed away long before you and I married. I know nothing about his side of the family; I never wanted anything to do with their kind so never bothered learning if he came from a large family or not. I'm certain they would have taken the boy the instant they had died if any of them were still alive anyway. Regrettably, I think we're stuck with him, Vernon; as much as I wish it were otherwise."

"What if we turn him over to Child Services?"

"Providing we could get him out the door; who's to say that the man who left the boy on our porch wouldn't just turn around and bring him right back? I know you're skeptical, and I don't blame you for that, but those people have no problems interfering with respectable citizens whenever the mood strikes them. They'll know the instant we give the boy away and they will take us to task for not trying to raise him properly; never mind the fact that the boy has mental issues. No… unless some long lost relative miraculously turns up looking for the boy we're stuck with him until he turns eighteen."

"So what are we supposed to do about the boy in the mean time? I'm going to have problems with my boss if I'm late again because the boy keeps waking me up with his antics every night."

"I know you don't want to give into his fits," Petunia hesitantly began as she looked over at her husband with worried eyes. "But until he outgrows whatever stage he's going through we could just let him stay in the cupboard if that is what he wants. Maybe… maybe allowing him to think we've given up on fighting with him over hiding in that closet will make him grow bored with these impossible flights of fancy of his."

"I don't like giving in to him, Pet," Vernon growled halfheartedly in irritation. "But maybe you're right. We'll try it your way for a couple of months and if that still doesn't work we can try something else. I better try to get at least a few more hours of sleep now; I've an important meeting in the morning and if I'm late or I'm not able to give the meeting my full attention I might just be out of a job by lunch time."

"I know dear, I'll make certain you're up on time and have your breakfast and lunch packed and ready to go so you can eat at the office to save a little time."

"What would I do without you, Petunia love?" Vernon asked rhetorically as he gave his wife a peck on the cheek, turned out the light, and snuggled back down with his pillows.

Downstairs, buried in the back of the cupboard under the stairs, a little terrified boy huddled piteously in the far corner of the one room where the demons that hunted him couldn't reach him. It would be well over an hour before his tiny body finally gave into the exhaustion as he slowly cried himself to sleep. Yet even in his dreams he found no peace as he was haunted by terrible visions of killing green lights, terrifyingly evil laughter, and thousands of monsters constantly grabbing at him with his claws.

Hovering just outside of the cupboard door were the numerous ghostly figures that had chased the boy from his bedroom upstairs. There were hundreds more of the mostly unseen spirits spread throughout the house and scattered about the Dursley's property; all of them drawn to one little boy by named of Harry James Potter like flies to honey.

AN: This was one of the shortest chapters I have ever written (not counting a couple of the omakes I've written for my Pokémon/HP crossovers). I wasn't really interested in rewriting Vernon's unusual morning or the meeting between Dumbledore and Minerva so you can consider everything up until the events in this chapter happened according to Canon… from here on out I'll be playing fast and loose with canon; though there will be some things that don't change. For those that prefer to read longer chapters, never fear… most of the chapters for this story run between 5,000 and 10,000 words with maybe a small handful being between 3,000 & 5,000. ~ Jenn

07-28-12: This chapter has just been edited to remove a few minor punctuation errors, a grammatical error or two, and update and revise the warnings listed at the top of the page since I've edited out the content that would have bumped the rating of this story up to Mature.