It's dusk. Bodies are strewn everywhere. One of them possessed a PDA that they had used to call for help, their message only half-typed. The battery icon in the top right corner is flashing red, and the screen flickers.
On it is a map of the surrounding area, black and white and vague. A glare sets in on the device as a result of the sun going down.
Wind ferociously rips through the field, pushing the corpses around. The digital antique falls onto the ground from his clutched hand, activating its radio. As it plays, the static-laden music attracts things. Things that are enamored by the strange sound; things that are repulsed by it. A hooded man creeps into the area, bringing with him a Mosin Nagant. He regards his weapon as he sneaks, with its cracked scope and slightly bent barrel. His white and grey suit rips as he stretches it just a bit too far with his crawling, showing his pale and scarred skin. He shows no sign of having noticed, his focus on gathering any loot he can before nightfall. The intruder reaches the body with the PDA, pocketing his items.
As the man furthers his search, the clouds above darken. The sky rumbles; the atmosphere becomes overbearing. The man quickens his pilfering, and takes a bottle out of his bag, one caked in mud. He opens and drinks it hastily, the effects hitting him in almost an instant. His body shakes, his hands tremor. He counteracts the drowsiness with some caffeinated pills, alas, unfortunately (or rather fortunately), they act too late. His grip on his weapon slackens, his eyelids droop, and he slumps over. The surroundings are not much unlike an earthquake. They destroy any evidence of a battle being fought.
Hours later, the thief awakens. Near him, he hears snarling and growling. A snork had wandered nearby and found him.
However, with it being dusk, it could not see him. The snork sniffs the air and edges closer to him. He gets up slowly and picks up some rotted meat left on the ground. The mysterious man brings him arm back and launches the meat at a car window behind the snork. It growls and swings around to investigate what could have made the noise. The aged man begins his lengthy escape, careful to leave soundlessly. He makes it out and takes out a lighter. Four flicks and it manages to hold a flame. His geiger counter clicks ominously, filling the ravine with tiks. Reaching the entrance, he sighs and strides out, only to be swept into a space anomaly.
A boy sits on a swing at a playground, downtrodden. A shuffling sound startles him, putting him on edge. He stands and reaches into his back pocket, keeping his hand on his wand. He watches for movement, but sees none.
The man, unknown to the boy, flanked him when he got up, and points his rifle at him from a distance. The Wizarding World savior sees a flash of metal reflect in his glasses and whirls around, taking his wand out of his pocket and facing the man, his wand twinkling dangerously.
"Who are you?" He asks the man. He gets no answer. Another sound disrupts their standoff, it being Harry's cousin Dudley.
The man hides in a few bushes nearby as the boy is distracted by his cousin.
Ever since the Dursleys had taken Harry in, they looked upon him with indifference. The phrase "It won't bother you if you won't bother it" came to mind, and so that was how Harry spent the first decade of his life. Dudley was no exception to this. As such, they remained neutral. He says softly, "Harry, Dad needs you home," Harry nods and lowers his wand. Dudley glanced at it and briefly wondered why he had it out.
They walk back and the man sleeps underneath a nearby bridge close to a river. He decides to monitor the playground. He needed answers and the green eyed boy seemed like the perfect way to obtain them. Three days later, he shows up, wary. The man approaches him unarmed. "Who are you?" He tries again. The man looks at him with sad eyes and replies in a hard and fast language. Harry, only having been to Hogwarts for three years, did know language spells, but he had to know the name of the language being spoken to use it. With their language barrier, the boy raises his hand toward him.
After a few seconds, the man shakes his hand, and they relax minutely. The man understood a few things now. He was in a foreign land, and in a neighborhood with children. But why? Why did the Zone send him here? He'll think about the situation later. For now, he's going to ally himself with the boy.
Harry, after some consideration, shows the man the Light Spell. He's unaffected by it. Maybe he has seen magic before?
Shrugging, he shows him another spell. 30 seconds and a "Leviosa!" later, the man just nods after a moment.
A month passes. They repeat their three day ritual and soon they are uneasy companions. One day, as they are together, a mist descends on them along with a feeling of dread. Harry's cousin runs toward them from the fog, yelling for Harry to get back to the house. Dudley notices the man and walks up carefully.
After a quick argument, Harry and his cousin stay with the man. During their spat, he had rummaged through his bag and retrieved his gun. Nobody knew it wasn't loaded, but that was to his advantage. He levels it and waves his hand behind him to make the signal for them to move back. As they move, he scans his surroundings. He catches a wisp of something in the fog. He shoulders his rifle and equips his long serrated Soviet knife. The boy behind him steadies himself and stands straight, obviously mustering himself. The man wields his knife in a reverse hand grip and slips into a combat stance.
They wait near the outskirts of the playground, almost huddled in a circle. Dudley quivers and falls to the ground, holding himself in the fetal position. The man and the boy get closer together. A figure emerges from the fog. The man readies himself. Harry knows that he can't cast anything, being bound by the Trace. But yet, he searches his memories for happiness. His recollection of meeting Ron and Hermione on the train make him feel warm; his recollection of making his first friend makes him feel comfort. As his friend goes to attack the Dementor, he casts his Patronus, and it chases the monster away. After a few minutes, Dudley recovers, and they return to Number 4, leaving the man.
A detector goes off in an office, and a woman with greying hair hears it as she finishes her daily paperwork. She writes a letter and sends it off, and soon Harry Potter is summoned to the Wizengamot.
Dumbledore takes care of the altercation, explaining it as necessary. Several members did not take a liking to that, but his authority superseded theirs. Harry was let off with a warning, and told someone would 'keep an eye on him', and got sent on his way.
He had a week before he left for Hogwarts. This was something he somehow needed to tell his friend. Making it to the playground, they greeted each other. Harry learned that he had a newfound talent for charades. During their interactions, they learned each others' names. He did not know what 'Strelok' meant, but it was definitely not a common name. So, his friend wanted to accompany him to Hogwarts. He didn't know how to pull it off, but he felt certain that he could. Harry had seen the man sneak around; he could do it with that sort of stealth.