Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction and I am making no profit, monetary or otherwise, through the writing of this.
A/N: Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry assignment number 2, Geography: Fact of Fiction, Task 10, "Write an Alien!AU."
Warning: mentions abuse from the Dursleys, though there are no details in the story.
Harry Potter had known that he was different even before his 'family' had started calling him a freak. He knew it in his bones, and, late at night, when everyone was sleeping, he'd often sneak out of the house (when his cupboard wasn't locked) and stare up at the stars, feeling them calling to him, their songs singing in his veins.
At night, when the stars were out, he'd wonder if that's where his parents were - up in the stars - if they ever thought about him, if they even remembered him. He'd wonder why they left him on the front porch of the Dursleys, rather than that of Mrs. Figg's or Mr. Snape's, or that strange looking older man who had a beard that went all the way down to his feet (Harry often wondered if birds nested in the old man's beard). The stars merely twinkled down at him, though. They never answered the questions he posed in his thoughts and heart. They never answered the longing in his heart.
"What're you looking at, freak?" Dudley, Harry's 'normal' cousin, punched Harry in the arm, drawing Harry's attention away from watching a strange shape that had appeared in the sky a few minutes after he'd been sent outside to trim the grass and make himself scarce.
"Nothing," Harry said, rubbing at his sore arm. A bruise was already starting to form there, but Harry didn't take much notice of it. It was what was normal for him. He bruised easily (at least that's what the Dursleys said; they said a lot of things, none of them nice).
"Freak," Dudley said, chuckling in that mean way that he had before shoving Harry onto the sidewalk and running off to play with his friends.
Harry picked himself up from the sidewalk, sighing at the new tear in his overly large jeans. He was bleeding, but it was just a little bit. He was more worried about Aunt Petunia scolding him for ruining another pair of hand-me-down jeans with his blood.
In addition to bruising easily, he also bled a lot, according to the Dursleys, especially when Dudley pushed him, or Uncle Vernon punished him; he thought it unfair that he was blamed for bleeding too much and ruining clothing, but never said anything about it. If he did, he'd probably just bleed even more. The truth could, and often did, hurt. A lot. Harry'd learned that from experience (much, much experience).
Shrugging off the sting in his knees, Harry turned back toward the lawn, not daring to look up at the strange shape in the sky. It was probably gone anyway, or maybe it was just another figment of his imagination. That was another thing that he was accused of having way too much of - imagination.
Harry had his work cut out for him, the grass had gotten long while he'd been locked away in his cupboard and it was already hot out, despite the early morning hour. Ignoring the rumbling of his stomach, Harry set to work cutting the grass. If he was lucky, he'd get something for lunch, which meant that he had to do a very good job with the lawn.
Harry didn't get very far with the lawn before Dudley came running back to the house, a look of abject terror on his face. He was pointing at something in the sky, gibbering nonsense as he came up to Harry.
"It's...it's...a fffff...flying saucer!" Dudley shouted, grabbing onto one of Harry's shoulders in a bruising grip, pointing toward the object that Harry had seen in the sky earlier.
It was bigger now than when Harry had first seen it in the sky. He felt no fear, though, not even when the sky around it grew dark and lightning filled the sky. Dudley whimpered, fingers digging painfully into Harry's shoulder.
"Let go of my son!" a voice thundered, and Dudley let go of Harry so quickly that Harry almost fell.
"You and your family will pay for your mistreatment of my son." The voice shook the ground.
The Dursleys were huddling together on the front porch, Dudley tucked between his mother and father. All of them had grown pale at the thundering words and were shaking like leaves.
"You shouldn't have left him on our doorstep," Aunt Petunia said, voice trembling.
"Silence!" the voice roared. "We are going to take our son now and when the rest of our people come to conquer your planet, we will not spare your lives. You will be among the first to die."
Frozen in place, heart thudding in his chest, Harry pinched himself, certain that he was dreaming and that he just needed to wake up. He winced at the pain, and frowned.
"Please," Harry said, looking at the Dursleys huddled together on their front step and feeling pity for them. "Please don't kill them," he pleaded with the voice.
"They were entrusted with your care and instead of caring for you, they hurt you. They do not deserve your mercy," the voice said.
Harry's heart sunk, but he squared his shoulders and looked at the alien ship with defiance. "I'm not coming with you," he shouted. "Not unless you promise not to hurt the Dursleys and Mrs. Figg and Mr. Snape."
The ship hovered in the air, just above the Dursley's lawn. Shrouded in darkness, Harry wondered if anyone other than he and the Dursleys could see it. Lightning sizzled across its smooth surface in a way that was mesmerizing and Harry pinched himself again.
"Stop hurting yourself, dear child of mine," another voice, softer than the thundering voice, said. "It is time to come home. Do not trouble yourself with the welfare of these beings."
"Why did you leave me?" Harry asked, stepping away from the ship and closer to the Dursleys, not trusting the softer voice anymore than he trusted the thundering one.
The lightning that surrounded the ship crackled loudly and there was a boom of thunder that shook the Dursley's house and reverberated through Harry's body. He was not afraid. He was angry.
"If you care so much about how the Dursleys treated me when you left me with them, then why did you leave me?" he shouted at the ship, tears stinging his eyes.
"We had no other choice," both the thundering and soft voices said as one.
A fat tear of anger rolled down Harry's cheek, and he raised his hands, they were crackling with lightning. The earth beneath him trembled and the Dursleys cried out in fear when a streak of lightning shot out of Harry's hands, striking the ship.
The ship shuddered and then lowered itself to the ground. Time seemed to stand still, Harry wiped angrily at another tear that slid down his face. If these were his parents, he hated them. He didn't understand how they could leave him with the Dursleys nine years ago, and then threaten the people who'd taken care of him in their absence. If they hadn't wanted Harry to be treated the way the Dursleys had treated him, then they shouldn't have left him there in the first place.
The lightning that surrounded the ship ceased, and Harry's hands returned to normal at the reduced threat to himself and the Dursleys. He may not understand the Dursleys, or like how much their lessons and chores had hurt him, but he had no desire to see them (or others) dead, or even hurt like he had been. They had taken him in when they could have left him out on the front porch to die. That had to count for something, right?
The ship vibrated and a dark cloud of smoke engulfed the Dursley's home, obscuring their view of Harry and the ship. The ship opened and two figures stepped out of it.
They looked human, but Harry could tell that they were not. That they were like him, a freak.
"You are not a freak," the one who looked most like Harry said, and Harry gaped at the other being.
"How...did..." Harry stammered, unable to find the words that he wanted to say.
"We are connected, here," the other being walked over to him and touched his chest, where his heart was, "and here," it touched Harry's head.
"So you can read my mind?" Harry asked, confused and fascinated.
The being smiled, and Harry felt some of his anger at his 'mother' and 'father' melt away. Whatever this being was, whatever Harry was, it was beautiful with hair the color of flames and eyes the same color as Harry's, emerald. Except well it, no, her eyes sparkled just like that old man that Harry had met one time, he'd forgotten the man's names, but his eyes had not just sparkled, they'd twinkled like the stars. His eyes had been the color of sapphires, though, and Mr. Snape's eyes, though they were dark like onyx stones, sparkled in the same way, too. He'd felt connections to both of them that he could not explain. Connections that he'd never felt with the Dursleys or anyone else.
"Yes, Harry, that is what they call you, isn't it?" his mother said in a voice that made Harry think of a gentle breeze.
"They are like you, like us. They were sent to this planet to keep you safe from the dark overlord of our rival planet."
"He has been defeated," said the other being, the one who looked so much like Harry that there was no doubt that they were related. "It is safe to bring you home now."
"But...what about the Dursleys and the other people of this world?" Harry asked.
His mother reached out to him, hesitating before kneeling and gently touching his cheek, tracing the tear track that had been left there.
"It was an empty threat," she said, smiling. "Our people have no desire to conquer this planet. We could see the fear in their hearts and spoke that which would cause them the most fear, a threat to their well being. We will not harm them if you don't wish us to."
Harry's father frowned at that, but he, too knelt before Harry and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. A warmth spread through the touch and Harry could feel the bruises there heal and fade.
"So," Harry said, biting his lip before swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and forging on, now that he knew that the Dursleys and the people of Planet Earth were not in any imminent danger, "You've come to take me home?"
His mother nodded and Harry heard her voice in his heart, it was the same voice as that of the stars that sang to him at night, his mother's voice. He heard his father's voice too, bright as that of the sun, though he spoke not a word aloud, "Come home with us, Harry, and sing with the stars."
His mother and father embraced him, and Harry's heart swelled with a song that had no words, a song that resonated in the very heavens themselves and entwined with the songs that were in the hearts of his parents. It seemed like a dream, but Harry knew that it wasn't, not this time. He was finally going home.