Acta Non Verba,
A.U as fuck, YAOI YGOXHP Crossover, my old pilot-fic I never posted, rewritten for my beloved Soubi-bear whom you all know as PyromaniacBlackWings, check her stuff out.
Yaoi, OOC, Rating to go up to M later. HarryxMarik romance/drama/angst. R&R AbuseWarning! BoyLove!
I DO NOT OWN YUGIOH OR HARRY POTTERxx
The amount of times they had left him on the curb to die had always left Harry Potter confused.
Miss Arabella Figg would always take him back, right back to the Dursley household.
His hair was ratted, tears were swimming and a little band-aid was on his lower left cheek, Harry wept but he didn't really make noise. He just stood there with a blank stare and mechanically working arms pouring over a banquet his lips would not touch. His stomach rumbled out for the food but his brain told him to spare himself a beating so Harry merely watched the Dursleys devour his hard work.
Dudley left for Smelting's Junior School, looking as though he was poured into his clothes even at the tender age of ten. Harry looked pitiful in his graying hand-me-downs, he was also far smaller and lithe despite being only one year younger then his cousin.
Harry always knew he wasn't normal.
He even had to go to a separate junior school so he wouldn't infect Dudley's friends with his freakishness.
Harry plodded to the bathroom after clearing the table and doing the dishes, grabbing the large purple brush from the bathroom window he ran it through his hair.
Aunt Petunia had long-since given up on his hair.
Harry whimpered in pain as the brush went through his long knotted black hair which straightened out just past his ears, it went from spikey to straight at the cost of broken brush-bristles that he picked from his hair.
He fixed up his cracked glasses and washed up, preparing for a new day.
Later (Empty Classroom):
Harry sobbed in the corner when he was sure nobody could see, and the kids had gone.
They hadn't even given him a chance.
The kids at Stonewall primary let the image of tattered-clothed, broken-taped-bottle-glasses, bruised, tiny-Harry sink into their minds. On his first day he found himself alone, like they had smelled his weakness, on a subconscious level the kids had already alienated him out the pack. Also, he somehow turned mean Miss Jordan's hair blue.
Weirdo.
The teachers felt sorry for him, Harry was bright, but obviously was born into a poor background that he couldn't help.
"Hello squirt, you alright back there?" asked a voice. Harry sniffled and quickly wiped his face on his overly-large sleeve.
"Jeah," he mumbled out.
"You should have gone home by now," admonished the kind old voice.
"M'sorry," said Harry meekly.
"I'm Mr. Hawkins, I don't think I've seen you before," said Mr. Hawkins, wondering why he hadn't notice the child slip into his classroom.
"I'm new," replied Harry, who was confused as to why the thin older man was being so nice.
"Ah," Mr. Hawkins frowned at the boy's poor state, but didn't comment on it.
"Want to tell me why you're crying?" asked the teacher carefully, Harry quickly shook his head and backed down, he didn't want to get his new classmates into trouble.
Even if they were meanies.
In his time, Mr. Hawkins, or rather, Arthur Hawkins was a primary school teacher, he had a degree in Egyptology, but with his wife pregnant, he had to use all of his qualifications in other fields to grab whatever job he could, even a low-income one. He still kept contact with Solomon Mutou, but now found himself with a temporary teaching job in England.
"My classroom door is open for you," he didn't know what else he could say.
"What's your name anyway?" he asked as Harry was halfway through the door.
"Harry Potter!"
Freak.
Harry, despite swollen eyes, smiled when he got 'home'.
He made one friend today, and that's all he needed.
"Boy! Why are you so late?!" snarled Vernon the moment Harry tip-toed in, Petunia grimaced and turned her attention to Dudley.
"I tripped on the way home," lied Harry.
Narrowing his eyes, the grossly obese man glared at him, meaty fist pounding on the table.
"Well?"
"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon," said Harry robotically, little hands shaking.
"Go to your fucking cupboard, I'll deal with you later!" with that, Vernon picked up his newspaper as Harry whimpered on the way to his little cupboard under the stairs.
Harry hated his cupboard, he used to love it's sanctuary but was quickly disillusioned of it's protection.
Nasty things could still hurt him. It was an open-prison.
The spiders never bit him and they tickled him at night, but it was dark and small, sometimes it even got hard to breath. It had quickly turned into the waiting room, where he'd sit and anticipate his Uncle's rage in quiet, bitter acceptance.
"Tell nobody", he'd say "Or I'll kill you,"
Nobody wanted to listen anyway.
Quietly he bit into the apple left on the clothes pile that was strewn into a make-shift mattress.
Aunt Petunia left him little bits of food in secret, so he wouldn't die on them, but told Harry to never tell a soul.
Sometimes guilt got to her, but she didn't really care too deeply, or Harry's body wouldn't be marred by so many little bruises. One for every part of unnaturalness that plagued his soul -if he even had one. He was still a little burdensome bastard.
He's still Lily's boy though.
So that's how it went, Harry slaved over breakfast, went to school, and took his bully-beatings like a good boy.
Everyday at lunch he went to Mr. Hawkins's classroom, Mr. Hawkins ate there as opposed to the staffroom, he didn't like the gossip, plus he could look over old notes of his Egyptology days in peace.
"This is a pyramid Harry," smiled Mr. Hawkins, as Harry hung to his every word, shyly eating the sandwich Mr. Hawkins shared with him. Harry was far too skinny for a nine year old and so the man found himself sharing his lunch with him. Everyday he'd carry a little extra.
Mr. Hawkins showed Harry pictures of his time in Egypt, fascinated, Harry peered at them.
"It's so big and pointy!" he said after a while.
"I know, God could have his eye out if he leaned too close," despite Mr. Hawkins's cheesy sense of humor, Harry giggled at it anyway.
Harry swung his little legs as he bounced in his chair, eager for more stories.
"You think I could have been a Pharaoh or someone back then?" asked Harry innocently, Mr. Hawkins smiled and ruffled Harry's hair affectionately.
"I don't doubt it,"
One week later:
Mr. Hawkins paced around his home with a frown, biting his lip, his fiancee asked if there was something wrong, but he insisted there wasn't.
Harry hadn't come to school for almost a full week.
Mr. Hawkins wasn't a fool, he knew something was wrong when Harry would recoil from his touch, he always treated his own injuries without so much as a tear, Mr. Hawkins had delt with a great deal of Harry's tormentors but the boy still came into his class with bruises. He tried not to rock the boat, but now he worried for Harry's life.
Four bottles of vodka and an absinthe and one lost job promotion later from Grunnings had led to Harry's current position.
Harry's lips tasted blood, his eyes glued shut with tears, his legs tucked to his chest. He felt his ribcage ache it was too dark to see, his arms were the only thing protecting his body. Moans of pain came from the cupboard under the stairs.
Petunia worried, but did nothing.
"Why is nobody helping me?" croaked out the voice from the cupboard.
Petunia ignored him and carried on doing laundry.
Egypt:
Ishizu sighed tiredly, a bored nine year old was never fun, and currently her 'baby' brother was bored out of his skull. Odion had returned from the outside and the second he came back young Marik was clinging to him.
"What was it like?"
Odion smiled at him, receiving a barrage of questions from the hyperactive boy. Marik perched himself on Odion's lap, curiosity piqued, Odion and Isis could go to the outside so long as the tombkeeper stayed in place, but Marik wanted to go outside so badly it hurt.
Then, Odion came up with an answer.
He handed Marik a small hand-mirror he'd gotten from the market, deciding he'd need it if he had to start wearing the traditional kohl, he'd need it.
Little did he know, he'd brought it from a man named Mr. Nicholas Flamel.
Long ago an alchemist named Nicholas Flamel stumbled across the secret most longed for by humanity.
Immortality.
He knew of the prophecy, he also knew of several others, the consequences of such -leading him to Egypt, to try to find the spell that would seal the philosopher's stone forever, he knew he would find his answers in Egypt, for their magic had sealed away even the strongest of evils.
A man named Shadi led him to the Kul Elna crypt, where the Millennium Items were sealed. He had been allowed a limited time to read off the walls the ancient spells that had kept Shadow Magic sealed for so long.
"I wish you the best of luck in sealing the stone," said Shadi calmly.
It was through this, that Flamel was able to create an enchanted mirror, the Mirror of Erised to seal the philosopher's stone away forever. On Shadi's advice he created two small mirrors as separate 'keys'. Both small hand-mirrors were linked by magic to the large Mirror of Erised being sent to Hogwarts.
"I will look after one and you may keep the other, that way if any evil should find the full Mirror of Erised, it can be destroyed by breaking these smaller mirrors even though we are far away from the mirror itself," explained Shadi.
Flamel nodded, and forumlated a plan, the best way to hide his key, would be to pass it on, where even he would not know of it's location. It would be best if the mirror simply lost itself in the muggle world like Atlantis, so he sold the mirror on in the Egyptian market, to one Professer Arthur Hawkins.