Harry couldn’t stop crying. The alley was cold and dark and Harry would swear there was an invisible monster howling nearby. As his tears chilled on his cheeks, Harry began to shiver and wished he was safe in his cupboard where only the spiders could get to him. It had only been 3 days since he was last at the Dursley’s, but to a boy of only 4 years, 3 days was an eternity.
6 days ago, everything was normal. Harry helped clean the house in the morning, weeded the garden after lunch, and cleaned the dishes after dinner. Dudley, a fat brute of a boy, and his friends chased Harry around the yard, playing their new favorite game, Harry Hunting. But a few houses down the street, Arabella Figg tripped over one of her cats, fell down the stairs and broke her arm.
5 days ago, Harry heard his aunt and uncle yelling about their upcoming trip to Wales. Because Mrs. Figg had broken her arm, she couldn’t take care of Harry while the rest of the family was away. Meaning that Harry would have to come with them.
2 days later they took the train down to Cardiff. The first two days of the trip were normal for the young Potter boy, he was confined to the hotel room and his uncle threatened and intimidated him every chance he got. However, being restricted to one room, neither Harry not his uncle had a place to escape to. So, every time his Uncle Vernon started to get mad, rather than locking Harry in the cupboard under the stairs, his face turning red and his eyes bulging out of his head. When he would begin to yell, Aunt Petunia would harshly whisper that someone would hear. But every time he was hushed, Vernon would get redder and his eyes would bug out farther, his head was slowly blowing up like a balloon. It was on the third day of the trip that Vernon snapped.
It started with a simple mistake. The glass was big and heavy and Harry’s hands were just too little. He felt it begin to slip and made one futile attempt to grab it. The spilled water soaked into Vernon and Petunia’s bed.
BAMB! Vernon clouted Harry across the ear. The force of the blow toppled him over and the back of his head slammed into the ground. Lights danced in front of his eyes and the edges of his sight darkened. As his vision cleared, sound began to filter in and he heard Petunia yelling.
“-op, stop Vernon” Aunt Petunia was holding her husband back, standing between the raging man and her nephew. She lowered her voice to the point that Harry could barely make out what she was saying, “You could kill him and then what?”
“Fine,” Vernon growled and locked eyes with Harry, “but he’s not staying here.”
Harry was struggling to stand up, when a beefy hand grabbed him and dragged him from the room. He was taken out through the back door of the hotel and thrown into the rental car. It was terrifying, the rumbling of the car, the grumbling of his uncle, he was almost glad when Vernon dragged him out of the car and thrown down into the alley.
“Stay here, don’t leave until someone comes to get you.” Vernon was angrier than Harry had ever seen him and his small body couldn’t stop shaking at the threat he heard in the giant man’s voice. The car door slammed and Harry was alone and crying in a dark alley.
Harry sat in the alley for hours as his sobs turned to sniffles. The monster kept howling nearby and the little boy just knew that it was going to consume him. Movement from the far end of the alley made Harry curl tighter into himself, too afraid to look around.
“Hey,” came a gruff, slightly slurred voice, “What are you doing here?” Harry peaked over his arms to see a tall dark figure stumbling toward him.
Harry closed his eyes in fear, trying to shut out the rest of the world. Vernon had told him to not leave, Harry’s heart was beating faster and his breath was squeezed from his throat. If Vernon returned and Harry wasn’t waiting for him, he didn’t know what would happen but his uncle was capable of terrible things.
Why was this happening? There was a monster nearby and a loud stranger staggering towards him. The world span, Harry wanted to run away but Vernon had told him to stay where he was. The air sparked around him and there was a loud CRACK, scaring Harry to his feet. It quickly became apparent to Harry that the man from a moment ago had vanished and the cold damp night had become a clear brisk morning.
For the second time in one night Harry’s head was spinning, this time with confusion. Thankfully, children possess the amazing ability to simply accept everything that happens to them. Being no exception, Harry sat back down and gave into the exhaustion of the night.
What Harry couldn’t have understood, was that he had caused this dramatic change. His desire to escape the things that scared him and his fear of disobeying his uncle was so great and greatly at odds that Harry had an extreme episode of accidental magic. These things caused Harry to transport himself to another dimension. A dimension that’s future ran parallel to his original dimension’s parallel, making the year not 1985 but 2006.
To the east, in London, Ianto Jones was pulling his half dead, half converted girlfriend from the rubble of Torchwood One. His sobs echoed throughout the devastated building. Even though he was passing the mangled bodies of his friends, Ianto desperation kept him moving toward the exit.
Hundreds of kilometers away from where Harry had disappeared, in a castle in Scotland, Harry Potter’s name disappeared from a list of students set to arrive in a mere 7 years.