Harry huddled in the alley, shivering, his threadbare blanket held tight around his thin body.
He couldn't remember the last time he had a real meal, not something scrounged off the streets or taken out of the trash,
Harry was 16 years old, with brown curly hair and green eyes.
He'd been in an orphanage for as long as he could remember until the age of ten, when he'd run away, unable to cope any longer with the intense bulling that went on there.
Even though there at least he'd had a bed and warm clothes, not to mention three meals a day, he never once considered going back.
He sneezed suddenly, and a raccoon poked its head up out of a nearby can to stare at him curiously before diving back to its meal.
Harry didn't mess much with the other creatures that hunted for scraps as he did; he was too soft hearted to try and kill them for food, or drive them away, so he went hungry more often then other homeless boys he knew of.
They thought nothing of trapping bright-eyed pigeons and furry raccoons, nor of strangling mewing kittens or yapping puppies if they had too.
Harry just couldn't do it, and sometimes even would share his meager findings with any homeless stray he found on the street.
He sneezed again, and slowly got to his feet.
"Well, pal, I got to go find my own chow now." He addressed the busy tail sticking out of the can. "Take care."
The raccoon ignored him and Harry went on down the alley, keeping an eye open for any other humans about he may want to avoid.
However, today was overcast and chilly, an icy wind whipping past any person hurrying along the street, so no one paid attention to one little sickly street boy ducking through the shadows.
Well, almost no one.
"Alright, listen up you useless bunch of meatsacks." The tall yellow-haired demon hissed, his one golden eye watching the boy as he snatched a crust of bead from the curb. " I want that boy brought to me unharmed and alive, got it?"
"Yes Master." The grungy group of hard-up men responded, bowing low at his feet.
The demon, non-other then Bill Cipher himself and spotless in his getup, glared at them and kicked his favorite, a black-haired one called Zayn.
Bill called him Raven.
"Raven, he is to be your responsibility once he's with us."
"Yes Master Cipher." Zayn crouched at the demon he worshipped's feet.
Bill's eye flickered, then dismissed them with a hiss.
The men fanned out and disappeared, their quarry having no idea what was about to befall him.
Making his way down towards a shop he knew to throw away the most amounts of scraps, he was blissfully unaware of his new shadows.
As he walked along, he nearly tripped over something lying in his path.
It was a small golden triangle, a single eye engraved on it.
Harry felt a chill go through him as he gazed upon it, and almost without meaning to, he picked it up.
It was a necklace, and Harry felt warmth spread through is body as he held it, the necklace seeming to beg him to put it on.
He stared into the eye on the triangle, and he jumped when it seemed to wink at him.
Deciding he had not been sleeping enough, he slipped the necklace over his head and tucked the golden triangle under his tattered shirt.
He felt lighter on his feet, more invigorated then he had in years, and he fairly skipped down the sidewalk to the shop.
To his disappointment, however, there wasn't a scrap to be had.
He was just about to turn away when he spotted a bucket by the wall he had never seen before.
Harry went over to it and looked inside, and what he saw froze him to the spot.
The bucket was full of water, but that was not what had him riveted.
No, what had him trembling in place was the reflection that smirked back at him from the smooth surface of the water.
It was himself, wearing royal clothes and a crown on his head, the triangle necklace around his neck, and a tall yellow-haired man standing behind him, wearing the same smirk that was on his, Harry's reflection's face.
"Come to me, Harry." He heard the whispers float around him. "I will guide you to your true destiny. Just come to me…"
Whirling, Harry ran blindly out of the lot, tearing down alley after alley, trying to escape the laughter that followed him.
Harry was frightened; the only thing he could figure was either the devil was after him or he was going insane.
Suddenly, his headlong flight was cut off by a group of hard-looking men stepping in front of him, blocking the end of the alley.
Panting in terror, Harry spun to go back, but a dark-haired man stood behind him, smiling warmly.
"Harry Styles." The man held out his hand to shake.
Harry shrank back, his mouth dry.
The man had the same golden eyes that the man in the reflection had.
The voice was the same as the one that had been following him.
"Who-who are you?" he stammered.
The black haired man smiled. "Someone who has your future in his hands." His voice holding a threat in it.
Harry shook, but the man didn't come any closer.
"You have great potential in you, young Styles." The man continued, his voice warm and kind now. "You do not deserve to be out here in the cold, scrounging for scraps. You were always the best boy in the orphanage; you did not deserve all those hits and jeers you received. Come with me and I'll ensure you never go hungry or cold again."
Harry stared at the man. "And if I don't?" he asked haltingly.
The man looked sad. "Then you can stay out here, slowly dying of the sickness in your lungs, cold, wet, hungry, alone. It's your choice, and you can leave me any time you chose."
Harry's body chose just that moment to seize up in a violent couching fit.
Harry was forced to kneel on the ground gasping and wheezing for breath when he felt gentle hands on him, and suddenly an inhaler was shoved to his face.
Harry sucked in the precious oxygen and looked up into that striking golden gaze that smiled at him.
"I only want the best for you Harry." The honeyed voice crooned.
Harry found himself shaking the man's hand, burning sensation making him gasp.
"You have made a good choice, Harry Styles." The man helped Harry to his feet.
Harry turned over his hand and saw, in is palm, was a small triangle like the one on his necklace, eye and all.
"And as for my name," a yellow glow floated out of the dark-haired man and became another man beside him. "I am Bill Cipher, you're new master and trainer. Welcome to the fold Harry Styles. You will go far in life so long as you always obey me."
"And I am Zayn." The now brown-eyed man said. "Follow us." And Harry did.