READ THIS DISCLAIMER BEFORE CONTINUING ON! I have decided to take a break from Naruto fanfiction for a while as it has become boring and too cliché for me. I have recently read an amazing fanfiction by the talented, Aisling-Siobhan called Butterfly. For those who appreciate well-written and developed fanfiction with a healthy dose of originality, I suggest you read Butterfly with all due haste. I do not own Harry Potter; that right belongs solely with J.K Rowling. I also cannot claim the rights to the idea behind this fanfiction because it is (with the permission of the kind Aisling) the P.O.V of young Harry during the storm when he first meets the butterfly. You won't be too confused if you haven't read Butterfly, but I would highly recommend it. The only thing I actually own in this story, is the poem/song thing. This is a one-shot so don't ask for me to write a second chapter.
My Precious Butterfly
Rating: T
In a world of magic and mystery, few things are considered unique. Flying brooms, messenger owls, and the company of a talking head or two are nothing new.
Enchanted ceilings and the occasional "Nearly Headless" ghost could be found in the looming halls and corridors of the great wizarding school, Hogwarts. However,
among the many towns and villages outside of the wizarding world, "magic" is a forbidden and taboo word that should be uttered with the utmost care, for its
accidental appearance could result in isolation and abuse from those that do not understand.
In Little Whinging, Surrey, a young boy with sparkling emerald eyes and a mop of raven black hair sighed as rain pounded against the pristine windows and left a
harsh 'pop' with its arrival. He cringed as the spiraling winds left trees bending and groaning from the pressure. The darkened clouds and skies could hardly be viewed
from the ground, as the rain was so very heavy and obscuring.
The little boy jumped when a crack of thunder interrupted the otherwise peaceful storm. As he hopped away from the edge of the porch with a light gasp, the
unmistakable flash of iridescent wings caught the corner of his bright green eyes. The small insect was struggling to avoid the unavoidable impact with the large oak
on the street corner, but with the direction the wind was dragging it, it would soon be left for dead on the wet sidewalk. With a trembling hand, the child slowly
stretched his arm forward and gently loosened his small, slim fingers so as not to startle the little creature. Using his other hand, he carefully edged his way onto the
small raining, smiling slightly as small drops of rain spattered onto his face and left wet spots on the flawless woodwork.
Carefully and quickly, he let his small arm out into the storm and in one swift movement, snatched the innocent soul out of the unforgiving wind and into his cupped
hands. He could feel the weakened creatures shivering and shaking wings tickle the palms of his delicate hands. The boy slowly opened his hands but a crack so as to
observe the little butterfly, but to prevent it from flying away and leaving him all alone. He smiled as the little bug looked at him with its small black, pupil-less eyes.
"My name is Harry. I'll take care of you." The small creature merely looked at the boy once more before ceasing all movement and relaxing in his hands. The boy,
Harry, smiled once more before moving closer to the house and away from the cold rain. He sat down on the "Welcome" rug and bent his head back against the solid
mahogany door with a light sigh. "Oh little butterfly… how I wish I were you." Harry began to hum lightly under his breath and unbeknownst to the butterfly, began to
speak in a rythmatic and peaceful way—reminiscent to that of a lullaby.
Oh my precious butterfly
You utter your sweet song amongst the warm night breeze
The flutter of your wings sets my heart to soar amid the clouds
Your delicate body makes me envious; smooth and sleek with fast reflexes
With a body like yours, I could dodge the strike of the whip and the fist of my tormentors
Your ability to fly makes me dream of a place without fear
Harry closed his emerald eyes and gently stroked the small, segmented body of his ward with a kitten-like caress. A comforting wind swept the young boys bangs to
the side as he began to sing again; this time with much more passion.
I dream the forbidden dream
I see clear skies and long meadows, the warm sun and daisies
I dream a dream of freedom—escape
Escape from the place I am required to call my home
A hell among the unknown with shackles and chains preventing my leave
"How I wish I could be just like you—my beautiful butterfly." Harry sank back against the stiff alcove with a grimace as the hard wood dug into his sensitive back. With
a small sigh, he cupped his hands around the insect to provide warmth, placed them on his stomach, and closed his eyes. One lingering though clung to the forefront
of the boys mind; will I ever be free of the confines of my family?
Harry smiled as he felt that same breeze return to him with its soft touch. The smooth and cool touch gave the boy the final push he needed into the realm of the
Sandman. And so the boy slept, dreaming of a life outside the confines of the small house, on the small drive in a small town called Little Whinging.
Fin
Please review. I implore my readers to check out Butterfly. It's a great read.