Hello everyone! This will be a very long author's note to explain what happened the months between activities. Summer got to me, and I was lazy. For a while. Then, stuff happened and I got into High School! Yay me! The last two weeks were Marching Band Camp for my high school and we recently played at our first football game (technically second but the first was during a pep rally). I won't bore you with drill or anything, but we played The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy during halftime. We're working on Uprising by Muse for later games, and we're getting my favorite song out of the three, Viva La Vida by Coldplay next week! This is going to be Overwatch and Harry Potter, but you know that because you searched for this. I got the idea for this story for a HP and TF2 crossover, not by me. Similar beginning, but different characters. Without further ado, our feature presentation! I'm not Blizzard or J.K. Rowling, so I own nothing.
Flying the friendly skies!- Fareeha Amari, Overwatch, 20?
Harry didn't know exactly why his relatives hated him, but they did. He was stuffed under the stairs, sometimes days at a time, and he never knew why. He never knew why October was when he was supposed to ask his teachers for the homework that month, because he never went on those month long trips. He never knew why his hair never grew, nor why the garden bloomed faster and longer than any other house on Privet Drive. He only knew that these things happened, and not why they happened.
Widowmaker knew nothing about why she was contracted to eliminate this Dursley fellow, only that the company he worked for, Grunnings, signed a contract to one of Talon's enemies, so as a message, eliminate their director. When she looked at the road they lived on, however, it sent a shiver down her spine. What little shard of Amélie was left inside her, thought that the same house design was used for several streets, unnerved her.
Shaking the girl out of her head, she activated the Infra-Sight and looked in the house, Number 4 Privet Drive. At first, what she saw disgusted her. She never knew whales could walk, or breed with horses to make a hippopotamus, but that is what she saw. A man-whale, a horse woman and a hippo child, around seven or so, sat at a table waiting for breakfast. But who was making the breakfast?
Shifting her vision, a rare moment occurred. Amélie and Widowmaker agreed on something. And that something was a small child, no older than six, fixing breakfast for the whole family, was mistreated. They both watched in horror as the child took the breakfast to the table, and gave it all to the people, no, creatures at the table. And the next action shook both of their foundations, that whale man hit the child.
Then they realized that this assassination could wait, because something took first priority. That child could not survive in that environment any longer. The whale man stuffed the child under a stair cupboard, slobbered the horse, and went to work. The horse went to take the hippo to school, and left the child curled under that staircase. They moved as one, and went to the back door.
The door was used daily, as it seems, because it was left open. Picking the screen door lock in moments gained the assassin entrance to the house. It was sparkling clean. The chairs still warm from the occupant's presence. Picking the stair cupboard lock, the child looked worse from up close. Wearing hand-me-downs from the hippo, the mop of hair was unwashed and bruises and scars blemished the child's skin.
"What is your name, child?" Asked Widowmaker in her sweetest voice. The child hesitated for a long moment and answered. "Uncle Vernon calls me Freak." The voice was as soft as silk and as innocent as a newborn.
"Well, I am not your Uncle. What do they call you in school?" She hated the family with a passion recently unheard of from the assassin. "They call me Harry there. Harry Potter." In that moment something happened; Widowmaker switched sides. "Excusez-moi, Harry, I have to make a call."
She wandered upstairs and into the first room she saw. It was filled with toys, new, old, broken, and unpackaged. Their last breaths would be filled with venom. The next room was a bathroom. Good enough, she supposes. She attempts something she would regret had she not seen the child, call the recently reforming Overwatch.
After a few rings, a gruff voice answers. "Who is this and who hacked the channel?" Ah, the gorilla. "Would you not wish to hear from an old friend, mon ami?" She taunts. She hears a gasp, but continues. "I would like to put in an application for Overwatch. I would also like to speak with Angela Ziegler."
A full minute passes by with no sound at all. The next, the gorilla responds. "Why should I accept? You work with Talon! You could kill us all without missing a shot!" She ponders for a moment, "And what do you want with Dr. Ziegler? To turn her into a Talon Operative?!"
After a moment of contemplation, she responds. "I was once one of you. I baked for all of you. I married Gérard. Talon thought they killed her. I am accepting that I was her. I want to be her again. I will start with rescuing a life. Talon threw me to kill the director of Grunnings. I staked out their home and noticed they abused a child. No older than six, and making the family breakfast. Scars and bruises blemish his skin. They call him Freak. I wish to stop this abuse for everyone. Besides, stopping abuse raises publicity. This child is why I wish to contact Dr. Ziegler."
Ten pregnant minutes pass before a feminine voice speaks. "Amélie, is it really you?" The voice brings memories unfamiliar. Blonde hair, blue eyes, glowing wings, and the name of mercy. "Angela, it is good to speak with you once more, mon cher."
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! Hopefully with school up and running again, I can get back into the swing of doing work. My Honors Language 9 teacher has already congratulated me on my writing, so hopefully you get better stories to read. Until next time! Uhdolwb lv dq Looxvlrq, wkh Xqlyhuvh lv d krorjudp, exb jrog, ebh!
