Hello everyone, this is my new story Other Wordly Rescue. It's a SI (self insert) OC (original character) story and starts when Harry is 9 years old.
To those of you who are familiar with my other works, please be patient with me, I have so many ideas for stories and I absolutely have to write them or they won't leave me alone, so all fics that don't seem to be being updated are on hiatus and I have no clue when I'll get back to them. I probably will at some point though.
Please, readers, like and review, let me know what you think and tell me if there's any scenes you'd like to see further in the story. Ideas and any notes or things you'd like to point out are welcome, just please no flames. Thank you, enjoy!
P.S. obviously anything you recognise is not mine.
CHAPTER 1 : Wish with all my heart
There are many bad people in the world. People who look just like you and me, people who can smile and laugh, people who might go get a coffee with their colleagues during their break... normal people. But in their spare time they enjoy killing, hurting and tormenting. On one particular street, with snobbish and incredibly nosy inhabitants, live some such people. A man who goes to work every day selling drills, a stay at home wife and their son, who hasn't mastered the art of hiding his bad behaviour just yet. But when they come home, all that normality goes away and they finally reveal their true selves. You see, years ago, the stay at home wife's sister died along with her husband in a hidden war, and their beloved child was left on the doorstep of these bad people. Time went by and the family of three went out of their way to make the newcomer feel unwelcome, unwanted and unworthy of any type of affection by verbally, emotionally and even sometimes physically tormenting and abusing this child.
They had their reasons, of course, only very few people don't have a reason for being bad, and in this family's case it was jealousy and fear of the unknown. You see Mrs Dursley – the stay at home wife – was incredibly normal and average. She had a normal childhood, average looks, was average in everything she did and eventually grew up to become a normal mother in a normal home with a normal husband who fathered their under average darling little boy. Her sister on the other hand – the one that died in this secret war – was anything but normal and average. She was beautiful, she applied herself in school, was intelligent, kind and a general delight to be around. She also had magic. Petunia Dursley cried when her sister, the beautiful Lily, went to magic school without her – you see, they were very close in their early childhood. Alas, Petunia had no magic. Her jealousy prevented her from learning anything about the secret magical world that her sister was now part of, and when Lily ever demonstrated magic in front of her, she was horrified by the possibilities of what it could do and what people would think if they saw. Her unwillingness to accept only partial integration into this new world made the sisters drift apart, and so the hate that Petunia held towards magic grew. She eventually cut off contact with her sister and loathed anything that had anything to do with magic – even the word itself!
Vernon Dursley – the husband – doesn't really have an excuse other than he won't tolerate anything not normal. That and he was told about the magical world by his incredibly biased wife. So when Petunia's very magical nephew was deposited at her door along with a hastily written letter telling her of her estranged sister's death and that she had no choice but to keep the child, the entire family took it out on the poor boy.
Which is how we find ourselves, years later, in the tiny cupboard under the stairs of the Dursley house, which serves as the young Harry Potter's bedroom. Young Harry, almost nine years old now, was laying on an old and rotten dog bed that had been provided by Vernon's sister, who also very much enjoyed tormenting the child though her reasons are unknown, and he was crying. He wasn't sobbing to the point he couldn't breathe, like his cousin often did, nor was he making any noise at all in fact, apart from some very quiet sniffles. That day had been his cousin Dudley's ninth birthday, and Harry had had to cook a giant breakfast, do the dishes, tend to the garden, cook lunch, make all the snacks necessary for a popular child's birthday, clean the kitchen, the living room and Dudley's very big bedroom, before watching all his cousins friends come to celebrate, eat all the food and generally cause a ruckus. Harry new he was different. He wasn't liked by anybody and he had never had a birthday party, and though he was vaguely aware that his birthday was at the end of July – a bit more than a month after Dudley's – he didn't know the exact date.
And so, on the evening of Dudley's birthday, once everyone had gone to bed, he lay on his horrific dog bed with tears leaking from his eyes wishing that someone liked him. He wished with all the pain and hurt in his heart and all the hope his little body could manage that someone that knew him, truly cared enough for him to do all the things his aunt and uncle did – or made him do – for his cousin. This poor, magical, hated child lay curled up in the tiny bed he was quickly outgrowing, making sure to make no noise to avoid his giant meaty uncle coming down to punish him for waking them up, prayed and hoped and wished just for a little bit of happiness, to have a tiny bit of love directed at him for once.
And magic answered.
Sniffles were replaced with a squeak of alarm as a soft blue light appeared in thin air in his tiny cupboard, growing bigger and denser and brighter every second. Poor confused Harry manoeuvred himself against the opposite wall of his cupboard, as far away from this light as possible and averted his eyes as it quickly became blinding. Then all of a sudden it disappeared at the same time as a thump sounded. Unfortunately this thump was followed by another, and another, and all his toys were being swept very noisily to the side.
"Ah! What the f – where the hell am I? What – ow!"
The voice of a very irritated and very confused young woman made Harry open his eyes in shock. Tears forgotten, he stared at the silhouette trying to move about and get her bearings in his tiny cupboard and winced when she tried to get up and banged her head on the underside of a stair.
"Uh.. hello miss?" he meekly called, causing the unknown woman to freeze.
"Who's there?" she answered, and Harry noted a slight shake in her voice.
"I'm Harry, miss."
The silhouette seemed to relax slightly as she realised she was talking to a child and there was momentary silence before she spoke again.
"And do you know where I am, Harry?"
"Yes miss, you're in my cupboard." He replied. He had so many questions he wanted to ask such as what are you doing here? Who are you? How did you get here? But he knew it was bad to ask questions, so he just answered hers. He was also still a little gobsmacked and confused as to what was going on, so just went with the flow by default.
"Your cupboard. Right." The woman said. "Are you playing hide and seek, or something?"
This confused Harry and he scrunched up his nose at the weird question. "No?"
"Then what are you doing in a cupboard?" came the bewildered reply, causing the young child to blush.
"This is where I sleep."
There was a very pregnant pause and the unknown woman completely froze, Harry wasn't even sure if she was breathing and he worried he did something wrong. Finally though, she seemed to come out of her stupor and when she replied, it was with a slightly scary tone.
"Really. Well, Harry, just let me know how I get out of your cupboard and I'll be reporting this. I'll make sure the social services come and see how you're living and hopefully change it. Ok?"
"Yes, miss." Harry could hardly believe it. This stranger was going to try and help him? Really? Oh this was wonderful! "The door is just there."
The strange and kind woman followed his gesture and once she saw the slight cracks around the door, she nodded to herself and moved to get out of her awkward crouching position. A sudden flare of panic ran through Harry but he didn't have time to call out before her head slammed hard against the same stair as earlier, causing her to cry out loudly in pain.
"Ah shit!"
Harry would have blushed at the coarse language if a sudden noise from Vernon's room didn't pale suddenly. heavy footsteps could be heard stomping towards the stairs, and even the young woman still clutching her head flinched as dust fell from the ceiling. Before long the door was wrenched open and light came streaming into the tiny cupboard, illuminating the flabby arm that grabbed Harry's shirt and yanked him out. Confronted with the beefy red face of his uncle, Harry cried out in fear and shock as he was roughly shaken about.
"You little freak!" Vernon shouted. "I've told you before, you're not to make any noise! I have to work tomorrow and you, boy, aren't worth the money this family has to pay for you! What were you doing making all that noise in there? I won't have any of your freakishness in my house, understand! And another thing, you Potter scum, I won't have any sort of language like that around my son! I'll have –"
Suddenly, Vernon's rant was cut short by another angry voice.
"OI!"
Both Harry and his uncle looked down towards the boys cupboard, only to see a young woman with light brown hair crawling out of it. A shocked Harry watched as she struggled to unravel his ratty blanket from her leg, all the while shouting at his uncle.
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM, YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT!"
This time Harry did blush, but the redness of his face was nothing compared to Vernon's – who by the way was still holding Harry so that his feet couldn't touch the floor.
"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do in my house? PETUNIA CALL THE POLICE, THE FREAK – OOF!"
Vernon's call for help was cut off as the stranger finally untangled herself and lunged at the huge man, punching him in the face. Immediately, Harry was dropped to the ground as Vernon fell backwards, clutching his jaw with a shocked look on his face. The man simply watched in astonishment as the woman pulled Harry to his feet and they rushed to the door, unlocked it with the key still in the lock and fled into the night. Only when they were halfway down the street did they hear Vernon's bellow of rage, but with a bit of encouragement from the woman, Harry didn't look back and instead put on a burst of speed.
Ten minutes later they had covered quite a bit of distance, and the woman stopped, Harry soon following. The boy watched as his saviour folded on her self and started gulping down air with her hand on her knees. Harry himself was panting from the long run, but otherwise he was fine. He took the time to properly look at the woman now that they were illuminated by the street lamps.
She was quite young for an adult, she looked around 18 or so, and she had light brown hair coming just past her shoulders. Her face was red and blotchy but he supposed that was from the run. She didn't look unfit, she was quite slim unlike his uncle and cousin, but not as thin as his aunt, and she was wearing dark skinny jeans that clung to her legs, a white shirt with writing on it that was tucked into her trousers and a worn women's leather jacket as well as some trainer type shoes. During his observation, Harry remained silent, watching the woman as she recovered from their escape and muttering to herself. Remaining discreet, he leaned in to hear what she was saying.
"Impossible... Harry Potter, Petunia, cupboard... no, no, no, not possible nope... magic, has to be... no other way... just fucking appeared... twat definitely looks like he was described... fat bastard... ooooh my god. Oh my god. Sweet baby Jesus... I'm dead... have to be... impossible... uh uhn, nope I refuse. Oohhh shit. Ok. Ok..."
Confused at what she was rambling about and shocked at the amount of cursing this woman could do, Harry turned his attention elsewhere until his new companion was ready to acknowledge him and hopefully even tell him what was going to happen now. He didn't have to wait long, as only a couple more minutes passed before the woman pulled herself to full height and took a deep steadying breath.
"Alright... Harry," she started, and the boy noticed a weird look come across her face as she said his name. "let's get somewhere safe for the night where we can talk, and then tomorrow we'll see what we do, Ok?"
Harry nodded happily, thanking the stars that he wasn't going back to the Dursley's tonight. The woman promptly nodded back once, as if to confirm to herself something and then emptied the contents of her left jacket pocket into her hands. When a paper note fell out, Harry realised that she was counting money. A few moments later she turned back towards him.
"Alright, I have 34 pounds. Do you know of anywhere that's open 24/7 and preferably has food, like... oh! Are there vending machines at the train station?"
"Yes, miss." Harry replied, making her eyes go slightly wide and a light blush colour her cheeks.
"Uh you can... just call me Isabelle. Or Izzy. Either is fine. So!" the lady – Isabelle – cleared her throat to get rid of any lingering embarrassment "I'll let you lead the way to the train station."
Harry nodded and looked around to get his bearings. Soon they were off, Harry leading the way and Isabelle slightly behind. The entire way, Isabelle asked lots of questions about Harry, wincing or sighing whenever he answered.
"So what's your full name?" she asked.
"Harry Potter."
"Who was that man?"
"My Uncle Vernon."
"Who else did you live with?"
"My Aunt Petunia and my cousin Dudley."
"Why do you live with your Aunt and Uncle?"
"Because my parents died in a car crash when I was a baby."
Some of the questions made Harry believe she already knew all the answers, and she was just checking to see if they were correct.
"What main chores do you do for the Dursleys?"
"Cooking, cleaning and gardening." He answered, though he was slightly confused as to how she knew his relatives' last name.
It seemed the more questions Harry answered, the more agitated Isabelle got, until finally they arrived at the station and the young woman rushed to the vending machines with a sigh of relief and a pile of coins in her hand. Harry simply resigned himself to sitting on the bench with a gurgling stomach, but was shocked to his core when Isabelle came back and offered him a Twix chocolate bar – not even just half of the packet, but both bars in one packet! He looked up to her kind face with wide his before taking the offering with a trembling hand, and as they sat in silence eating, he knew this woman who had appeared in his cupboard as if by magic would forever be his hero.
The feeling was reinforced when Isabelle gestured for him to lie down on the bench and rest his head in her lap when she noticed his eyes drooping. He followed her instructions gratefully and fell asleep with the feeling of her warm legs under his head and her kind smile in his mind; he even thought she stroked his hair at one moment.