The Angel

The beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Harry Potter universe…although I have added to it in this story – anything you don't recognise from the books is probably mine I also don't own the 'weeping angels' from Doctor Who...but I had a great idea and needed them.

Plot: Harry is touched by a weeping angel aged five and is sent back to the exact day Slytherin made his way through Surrey on his way to Scotland and the new Hogwarts castle. Follow The Boy-Who-Lived as he travels through time with his stony friend.

She had been watching the boy for four years now, and had grown increasingly disappointed with his current guardians, the Dursley's she thought they were called – a tall, thin woman with a rather piercing voice and large nostrils, a portly – no – fat man with a quivering moustache and a face that amused her to no end as it turned various colours according to how mad he was, and a young boy who was already becoming as wide as he was tall, obviously taking after his father in more than one way.

Throughout the four long years, the tiny baby had grown into a skinny boy, verging on starvation, his ribs clearly visible when the baggy t-shirts pressed against his body. His hair was as black as gunpowder and unruly, a point the woman liked to vocalise at every opportunity; even going as far as to shave it completely one night, only to be horrified when it was back to normal the next morning. He always seemed to have bruises or welts on his body, wincing only when he thought his family wasn't watching. The family passed him off as clumsy but she watched them through the windows beating him. The most astonishing thing about the boy though, was his willingness to talk to her – he spent all his time gardening muttering and mumbling to her.

She remembered so many years ago, over 1000 years, seeing a boy looking remarkably like this one appear with a statue of an angel. Now was the time – it would be today.

Harry wrinkled his small nose as he was shoved out of the back door to the garden to weed the flower beds. It was early in the morning, half way between the Dursley's breakfast and their lunch – not that he would be able to eat any of the food he made them. He had burnt the Sunday roast yesterday, earning him a beating from his uncle, who somehow expected a five-year old boy to cook all by himself. He rubbed slightly at his arm, wincing as his fingers brushed against a belt weal from his morning beating as he took a pair of tattered gardening gloves out of the shed and slipped them on his hands despite being far too big for him.

As he started on the garden, he smiled up at the statue of an angel that had stood against the fence for as long as he remembered – the one person in the world that he could talk to about his problems without it being relayed back to the Dursleys. He had told a teacher what happened once last year, but she had only told the Dursleys to keep his imagination under control, and you can only imagine the beating he received. That was the day he lost all faith in adults.

"I wish you could talk to me Angel." He whispered as he blinked tears away from his eyes.

"I can" he heard a voice inside his head say, and he jerked his head up and around, looking for the speaker. "It's me little prince, the one you call 'Angel'." The small boy carefully laid the gloves on the grass and stepped closer, reaching up in wonder to touch the stone face, and leapt back when he felt the warmth of her cheek.

"You can't talk. You're a statue."

"I'm not a statue all the time little prince. Just some of the time." He giggled slightly, and settled down at her feet.

"Will you tell me a story?"

An hour later, Petunia Dursley stuck her head out of the back door and yelled at him to continue. She was going out and would be back later – he wasn't to go inside except to go to the toilet, and he definitely wasn't allowed any of their food. Harry nodded and turned back to his Angel. He had learnt so much about her in the last hour.

Her real name was Selena, although she was fond of Angel as he called her. She was of an ancient race known recently as the Weeping Angels, due to their appearance, although she could morph into a more human appearance if it was needed. She had witnessed something as a young angel, over a thousand years ago, and had been waiting for him ever since.

"Did you want to leave with me little prince?" She asked inside his head – she had explained that in human form she could speak and communicate mentally with people.

"Where would we go Angel? And why do you call me little prince? I'm a freak." A few tears escaped even as he said the word and he balled his hands up and rubbed at his eyes.

"I'll take you somewhere safe little prince. And I call you that…because you are, and you will be. I will show you. What is keeping you here?" Harry paused as she said that, and frowned, what was keeping him here? He certainly didn't love the Dursleys but something was compelling him to stay.

"I'll leave with you." He said after a moment, and a wave of magic spread out from him. He watched it in wonder.

"It's the wards breaking little prince." He heard, and wrinkled his nose. What was a ward? He'd ask Selena at a later date – as soon as he was away from the Dursleys. He turned back to the statue, and blinked once, twice and three times before "huh?"

The figure in front of him laughed softly, her voice lifting his spirit as her hair swayed in the slight breeze. She was tall, around six foot, utterly beautiful and was dressed in a white floaty dress with long white hair that almost shined. "Thank you little prince." She knelt down and gathered the small boy in her arms and gave him the first hug that he could remember. He leant in and began to cry as he relished the warmth he felt, both on his skin, and on his outside.

Hundreds of miles away in a draughty castle, twenty of the instruments scattered around Albus Dumbledore's office exploded or vaporised, eliciting a scream from the second year student who was meeting the headmaster. The old man looked around in shock and then horror, ushering the girl out of the door and apperating immediately to a quiet suburban street in Surrey.

"Are you ready little prince?" The ageless woman asked and the small boy in her arms nodded as he kept his arms around her neck. She smiled and looked at Albus as she stood, a white light surrounding them both and when it cleared, both the woman and the black-haired boy had gone.

I know it's a little short, but it was more of an introduction to the plot line. I have a lot of ideas for the rest of the story but if you have any ideas, please tell me

Comments are always welcome…flames not so, but are always interesting to read ^.^