It was a clear, cold night in November. Everyone was in their warm beds, sleeping the night away, happy with their lives. Except for one.
A small boy, no older than four years old, was sitting on the swingset in an abandoned park in Little Whinging, Surrey. His medium length, dark red-black hair hid his face from view, but you could see the tears falling into his lap as he tightened his grip on the swing. The small boy, much smaller than others his age, was wearing clothes much too big for him and wasn't protecting him from the cold night. He was shaking from the cold and silent sobs, as he had been taught to be as quiet as possible.
The child never noticed the young man that was staring at him through the metal fence, wondering what to do. The gate was locked, and yet the child was inside of the park. And the young man absentmindedly wondered how the child got into the park.
The young man did not look much better off than the child. But he seemed to be more happy about it. He wore old, worn clothes that looked like they haven't been washed in weeks, which was probably true. His long, black, darker than night, hair tied in a high-ponytail that reached the small of his back with his bangs hiding the left side of his face and most of the right. His icy blue eyes spoke of cool intelligence, cold experience, calm understanding, soft concern, and warm kindness as he stared at the pitiful child.
He looked up to the top of the night sky, as if asking why. He sighed, looking down toward the sidewalk as he did. He took off a faded purple backpack and picked up a gruff, black duffel bag, pushing both through the iron barred gate. He turned around and started walking a couple feet away from the gate.
The small child looked up when he heard the footsteps, barely catching a glimpse of an adult figure walking away from the gate and into the shadows. He looked to the foot of the gate to see the two bags that the young man had left. The boy stood up in confusion, before hearing the sound of running footsteps. He looked beyond the gate to see the figure running towards the gate, and started to panic as it looked like they were going to run head first into it. But watched in shock as the figure jumped over the fence like they do in the Olympics, and he still stood there, shocked out of his mind, as the figure flipped himself around to land on his feet in a crouch.
The young adult stood up with a smile, happy he was able to jump the gate. He looked up to see that he was being watched, and smiled kindly to the small boy. He walk over to his bags and picked them up, aware of the tiny being that was watching his every move.
The child was confused by this adult. No one had ever smiled that kindly at him before, especially an adult male. Sure there was that old lady that lived next door with the cats, Ms. Figg, did but she didn't count since she and her cats were creepy. She always had that look of pity and finely concealed fury, and he didn't know where it was directed. But this man looked at him in concern and kindness, not with pity or sadness. The child was curious, why did this man jump the gate and look at him with kindness? The child was used to seeing concern, but not kindness. The young boy was pulled out of his thoughts as the young man moved toward the swings at a slow pace, and he tensed when the young man was halfway to him and the adult stopped walking to stare at him in sadness and understanding. Those emotions confused the boy further.
The young man stared at the young boy, who was tense in front of him. He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous nature, looking to the side as he contemplated what to do next. He slowly slide his bags off of his arms and they landed next to him. The older male sighed and fell to the ground bonelessly, landing on his back with his eyes closed. His eyes opened to stare at the night sky above them. He was taking the same approach to this kid as he would a scared and wounded animal, and he sighed silently at the disheartening thought. And now he just had to wait and see what the child did, and he closed his icy-blue eyes to do just that.
The boy jumped slightly when the male adult fell to the ground limply. And the young child just stared at him with wide, otherworldly green eyes and was dumbfounded, he couldn't believe what this weird adult had done. First he had jumped the gate, then he had smiled at him with kindness, then started to walk toward him, then stopped when the boy had tensed and smile again with sadness, and finally, just collapsed to the ground like a rag doll! This was just plain confusing to the child.
No one had ever really cared about how he felt before. And here is this weird stranger that seemed to react to his emotions with care and caution. The child was very curious, but naturally very cautious as well. In the end though, curiosity won out and he started to inch his way toward the young man. As he got closer, he noticed that the man's eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. The child cocked his head to the side as he stared at the man, wondering why he had his eyes closed. The blew, blowing dust and sand up while playing with the two humans' hair. The boy stared at the man's hair as he noticed just how long it was.
'So long. And so black, like the night sky.' He thought, as he unconsciously grabbed at the onyx hair.
The young man's eyes snapped open as he felt a painful tug on his scalp. He watched as the young boy froze as he held some of the man's hair in his fist, with a look on his face like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The man blinked at the child while switching his gaze between the child's fist full of his hair and his face. He lifted an eyebrow at the small child, as a playful smirk played on his lips.
"So," the young man said, drawing out the 'o', "do you like my hair?" He said in with a smirk, and his eyes filled to the brim with amusement and laughter. The small child flushed at the question, knowing that he had been caught, and let go of the soft and silky hair. The young man's smirk turned into a gentle smile. He started to slowly stand up, watching the young child out of the corner of his eye.
The boy watched as the stranger started to stand, if not very slowly. The child knew the stranger was watching him, so he stayed still and silent. That was one of the rules that his uncle had taught him; to stay silent unless spoken to. So he watched as the man stood up fully, stretching his five foot nine frame before walking toward the southeast corner of the park, out of view from the street. The boy's head tilted to the side in curiosity, wondering what the young man was doing. So the child stood up and began to follow the stranger, if not at a safe distance from him.
He smirked when he heard the child begin to follow him to the corner of the park. He chuckled mentally at the child's curiosity and recklessness, reminding the young man of himself a little too much. To the point that it scared him. The teen-man knew from his past that children that acted and looked like the child that was following him were deprived of the key ingredients that called for a healthy childhood. This worried him, very much so, since he knew that there were many different paths that this child could be pushed into taking if this continued. And very few of them ended with the child growing up happy. And most of them ended with the child dead before he reaches twenty.
As the young man stops at a tree near the corner he sets down his bags, bringing his faded purple backpack in front of him and unzipping it. The child watched from behind him, and started to try to move around him to see what he was doing. But whenever he almost got a glimpse of what he was doing, the man stood up and moved so that his back was to the child. His cheeks puffed up in irritation, that was the fifth time that the stranger made him avoid seeing what he was doing and the child had caught the a smirk playing on the man's lips more than once. He sat down cross legged with a huff, pouting at being played with.
After a few minutes of the man shuffling around while the child pouting and glaring at the ground, the young man turned around to face the upset child. A laugh bubbled out of his mouth before he could stop it as he took in the sight of the pouting figure before him. He had successfully gained the attention of the agitated youth in front of him, who shot a glare (read; pout) at him before returning it to the ground, much to the amusement of the young man. Chuckling as he walked over to the child, he squatted down to his level while making sure to keep eye contact with him.
The young adult smiled gently at the child, much to the boy's confusion. "Do you want to join me for dinner? You'll have to help me collect the wood for the fire though." He said, gesturing behind him to a small circle of stones that he had set up with some cans and other things that the child didn't recognize. Which was unusual for him, seeing as he did most of the cooking and cleaning back at his relative's house. There was a small circle of stones around a small hole in the ground, all of them looking slightly burnt or ashy, with a small metal stand or round table inside of the circle with the four legs being held down by the rocks. Some small plastic cups without handles that looked more like bowls that cups, but were clearly bowls, and some kind of metal utensils that looked like the hybrid of a fork and a spoon with stained wooden handles. The cans didn't have labels, but they looks like regular old soup cans with some small dents in them here or there. What looked to be two thermoses, one black and one brown, that were tall and narrow with the built-in cups on the top next to some small rusted-metal tins in all shapes and sizes. The child tilted his head as he tried to fit the objects with names.
The young man watched as the child inspected his supplies from afar, amused by the concentrated look on the child's face. He started to stand up slowly, startling the child. They held each other's gazes as the man slowly stood up. The effeminate man smirked a bit and the child blinked in response.
"Well?" He asked with an amused tone of voice. "Are you going to help me?" And then moved away to start searching for sticks and twigs, not once looking back for a response.
The child blinked at the question, watching as the weird man started to collect the small, broken branches. The child watched as the man moved like a cat, fluid and quiet yet predatory and with reason. The child watched as the cat-man picked up the small branches with care and gentleness that the child had only ever seen mothers use on their babies. The child remembered that the gentle-man had spoken to him kindly and softly, not with the hate and coldness that the child was used to. The child could still feel him, just like the child could feel everything else, and the kind-man felt… chilled yet warm, kind yet cautious, happy yet solemn.
The child… liked this kind-man, he realised. The child looked at his scarred and burned and small hands, and then looked to the kind-man that was still collecting small branches, now humming a merry and light tune. The child then realised… that he wanted that kindness. Oh, how he wanted it then. So the child looked at the back of the kind-man and then nodded to himself in a determined way.
The young man's lips turned upwards slightly when he heard a rustling from the direction that the child had been, and just continued on his way. By the time that the man decided that he had a good start and was heading back towards his camp, the small child had already gather more sticks and twigs than the man had. This caused a slight smile to appear on the man's face, for he saw the delighted look that appeared on the child's face when he noticed that he had collected more small branches than the kind-man.
The child watched as the kind-man started the fire in the ring of stones and set up the things that when put together looked like a mini-grill, making sure to memorise what the kind-man did for when he had to do it himself. The man saw this, but only smiled at the child and continued his work.
The child watched as the kind-man opened cans with knifes and opened tins that had spices and herbs in them, watched as he mixed them in the pot and a kettle to make soup and herbal tea. The child listened as the man explain what he was doing, why he was doing, what he was putting in what and when and why and what to do next. The child observed and listened and memorised it all. Because the child wanted to be able to do this too. The man noticed, but continued to do as he was doing, knowing that the child needed to know these things to survive.
The child watched as the kind-man set up what he called a "hammock" and "tarp" as the soup and tea cooked and boiled, explaining how and why and what as he went about setting it up. And the child listened and memorised. And the kind-man noticed, and continued as if he hadn't.
The child listened and memorised as the man told stories of the world and of his travels as they ate and drank, memorising every word and every emotion that he kind-man spoke and expressed. The man noticed, but continued anyways, he was having fun after all.
The child helped and listened and obeyed as the man cleaned his camp and fire, instructing the child in how to do this the safest ways and why they were the safest ways. The man watched as the child obeyed him easily, looking sad and thoughtful at the same time.
The man felt a hand touch his as he moved to his hammock, looking down to see the child looking at his shelter in longing. The man smiled and gripping the child's hand, causing the child to look up at him longingly and questioningly. The man only smiled and asked; "Do you want to share my shelter with me?" The child's eyes brightened and he nodded enthusiastically, pulling the man towards his own shelter while the man himself laughed in surprise.
The child watched as the kind-man slept as the child lay on his chest, watching the soft breaths puffed out of his mouth as white fog. And the child thought.
It was morning and the sun was just barely seen over the walls that contained the park, the two ravens had already used the last of their twigs and sticks to make their breakfast, they had already cleaned up the camp and folded the shelter away into one of the kind-man's many bags. The child was happy to have helped the kind-man, for the kind-man had been very kind to him. And the effeminate man had been glad to have taught the child some of what he knew so that he could survive.
The child watched as the kind-man gathered his bags, and felt a strange fluttering in his chest. The child remembered what he had been thinking about the night before, as he had basked in the kind-man's warmth and light and he could feel. The child looked at his hands, then looked at the man. His small, scarred fist clenched painfully, and the child nodded determinedly.
The man stopped as he felt something pulling on his duffle bag that he had hanging at his side. He blinked and looked down, seeing the child that he had grown fond of looking at him determinedly and raised an eyebrow at him.
The child didn't not loosen his grip as he spoke to the man for the first time. "My…"
The man's eyes widened, as he had not expected the child to speak to him at all, but he kneeled down before him so that he could listen more carefully.
The child tried to speak again, having lost some of his confidence when the kind-man seemed surprised, but gained it back when the kind-man had come to eye level with him.
"My… My name is… Harry."
The child spoken in a soft voice, a voice meant for music and poetry. And the man knew then what the child wanted, for he could now see it in his green, green eyes that the man had only ever seen in the Northern Lights. He could now see and he knew that he would give it to the child, for he wanted it as well.
"I am called Korvo, malmulta lumo."
The child looked confused at what the man had said so he decided to elaborate.
"Korvo is my second coming of age name as my twentieth spring is after this winter, the people of my tribe had a naming ceremony when a child of the tribe came into their seventh, fourteenth, and twenty first spring. Korvo means "Raven" in your English, and malmulta lumo means "little light"."
The child looked fascinated by the idea of naming ceremony every seven years and happy to know the Korvo's name, but looked confused at why the kind-man had called him "little light".
The man chuckled warmly, and the child found that he liked the sound and feel of it.
"I called you malmulta lumo because it one, means "little light" in my native language, and two, your eyes are a color that I have only ever seen en la Vivo Lumoj, or the Northern Lights as it is more commonly called."
The child looked thoughtful, before nodding and tugging on the bag that was still grasped between the two ravenettes, the older with a blue tint and the younger with a red tint. Korvo looked at the child fondly, raising an eyebrow as the child refused to speak. The child- Harry- malmulta lumo- Lumo blushed as he knew that the kind-man could read (or perhaps wouldn't) read his mind to see what he wanted, so Lumo now had to speak.
The man watched expectantly as the child mulled over the words to use, before the child nodded to himself and spoken with conviction, pleading, and determination.
"I want… To come with you. I want… To see the world… Your world. I want… To have a home… Not a place… But a person… That calls me by a name… That is spoken fondly… You… as my family… As my Home."
The child looked at the stunned man that he wanted as his Home. The animal house was not his home, it hurt to be there and he didn't want to go back to the cold when there was so much warmth in this man. The man was stunned and shocked that the child would trust him so when they hadn't even known each other for a full day yet, and the child wanted him to become his Hejmo…
"I… Well…" Korvo tried to say something, but couldn't really get any words out. He looked into the child's- Lumo's eyes and saw conviction and pleading. Lumo wanted a Hejmo so badly, and he knew that Korvo was a good person, knew that he would take care of and teach Lumo until he could make it on his own until he had made it till his Plimulto…
"Lumo…" The child looked the man in the eye and saw fondness, affection, kindness, understanding, acceptance, and warmth.
"I will be your Hejmo." Korvo said in a warm voice. "I will be your Home."
And Lumo, formally Harry, smiled.
Many, many miles away, many shiny objects exploded in the office of a meddling old man. But the old man was away on business when this happened, so he never noticed till it was too late for him "fix" it. But the phoenix knew, but never told. Only watched as the plans of the bad-white-man began to unravel, and sang a joyful song.
(I don't like putting Author Notes that at the beginning my stories. I just don't. Don't ask. -_-
Disclaimer; I don't own Harry Potter or Danny Phantom. I never have, and never will.
Pairing is up for voting, so vote away.
Shadow's Child is not a back story for Korvo, that you to Crazydawg19 for making me see the parallels between the stories. You will be seeing a lot of parallels between my stories, but unless I say so, they are in no way connected.)