A Persian’s Tale: Scarred for Life
1/30/2008 - 566 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing / Bandai or Harry Potter / JK Rowling and this was inspired in part by the story "Raimei" on FFN.
AN: AbeoUmbra, I have no idea if I'll ever actually get those damn one-shots I owe you done; however, I would like to present to you (and everyone else who reads this) with the start of A Persian's Tale. I am willing to bet you didn't think I would actually do it, did you? Well I have one thing to say to you- "HA!" -raspberry-
And with that, on with the show!
He knew from the start that something was wrong. The Dursley’s had given him 50 pounds with only cursory grumblings. He should have taken that for the sign it was to abandon his request to go into London for his school supplies but he hadn’t – probably too shocked at the time at being almost given the money. Now look at where he was, stranded on the muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron at night with no true desire to re-enter the establishment.
He didn’t fault Tom, it was an inn and pub after all, but the patrons this night looked particularly Dark – not just shady but truly Dark, and considering most Dark witches and wizards wanted him very, very dead his reticence over returning was completely understandable. Being assaulted, raped, or killed in his sleep was not on his to-do list.
Since the Dursley’s had rather obviously abandoned him and he wouldn’t return to the Leaky, he did the only next logical thing in his mind, try to find a motel to spend the night. The fact that it was night in a big city left him wary but really, he didn’t have any other do-able options. So, mind set, the Boy-Who-Lived started to walk.
London had plenty of hotels, Harry just seemed skilled in finding all of the ones over his price range. Plus, he hardly looked the most reputable with his overly large hand me downs wandering in at almost 10 at night. He finally gave up hope of finding something and decided to return to the Leaky when he realized something very important. He was lost.
Not just lost but completely without a clue. It wasn’t like he had ever visited London just for the heck of it before, much less during the night. It was coming on 10:30 in the evening, it was dark, and he successfully found himself someplace that Dung would feel right at home. Then the hairs on the back of his neck started crawling.
Go figure, all those times he had run from Dudley and his friends during childhood would come in handy during his teens in an unfortunately life-or-death version of the infamous “Harry Hunting”. A bruise had swollen his left eye shut, his glasses had been lost two blocks back, and his ribs were screaming at him to stop. The blood running from the slice in his arm, busted nose, split lip, and thigh wound were disturbingly warm considering just how cold he felt.
An alleyway appeared on his left and without thought he ducked inside, hiding behind an over full and very ripe dumpster. Evidently he ran into the alley between a Chinese restaurant and an Indian one. Amazing what things the mind will latch onto when the body is on an adrenaline high and in extreme pain. Really, and the Cruciatus was supposed to be the most painful sensation possible. It overwhelmed the senses rendering the victim into a state of mild shock and ended immediately after the wand was lifted. Not even close to the throb shaking his entire form.
Noise at the mouth of his hideaway startled him, sucking a large breath in his screaming lungs he was reduced to mentally praying to a figure he wasn’t even sure existed. “Please don’t let them find me, please don’t let them find me, pleasedon’tletthemfindme!”
And with that everything went dark.
Harry is wandering alone in the middle of the night in the bad side of a big city. If this was set in New York City he'd probably be dead but as this is London, I'll leave him as the victim of assault, mugging, and attempted murder. If the authorities find him anyway.