Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. This plot
is mine, but that's all. So, back, thou evil lawyers, back I say!
1st fanfic of any kind I've written. Please read and don't kill me!
___________________
Chapter 1 - Pain-fraught Meeting
A young boy in baggy trousers held up by a cracked belt, a dirty off-white shirt, and an equally baggy too-big coat stood outside a grocery store, watching a few early morning shoppers bustle in and out. The boy looked to be 5 or so, short and thin, too small for his seven and a half years. Longish black hair was somewhat tamed and hidden by a woolen hat, the tufts that weren't contained under the wooly prison of warmth sticking out in various directions. Bright emerald eyes peered at the store from behind black round-framed glasses held together with a bit of wire and tape. Small hands, partially covered in gloves with the fingers cut off, flexed and relaxed, preparing for the speed and stealth needed for survival. With a decisive nod, the boy strode forward, carefully hiding his limp from a wounded right leg.
Harry Potter entered through the automatic doors of the grocery store, eyes calmly and quickly spotting the employees and few other customers. Only difference was those people were paying for their goods; he wasn't. Walking quietly up and down the aisles, Harry's hands flicked over the shelves of goods, each time slipping something or another in a baggy pocket. No one noticed his actions; he was too fast, too quick, too . . . what was that phrase he had read once . . . nimble-fingered? Whatever it was, it made him an accomplished thief, allowing him to get what he needed from wherever he could, even if he didn't enjoy the whole stealing part. Didn't quite fit his morals. But he didn't really have a choice; he needed to shoplift to stay alive. Only once had he come close to being caught, and that had been in a different store all together. A falling display of cereal boxes in the next aisle had given Harry the chance to escape unscathed. Now, within a few short minutes, Harry had his goods and was headed across the parking lot and toward an alleyway a couple blocks away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The black-haired lad wearily knelt down onto his knees, resting on a blanket tossed over a couple pieces of cardboard, glad to take some weight off his sore feet. Hands quick as ever, Harry emptied his various pockets of the goods he had stolen but moments ago. A bag of beef jerky, a pack of hot dogs, four warm rolls of bread, two cans of chili and beans, three small cans of mixed fruit, five individual packs of tuna and crackers sets, a box of various sized band-aids, two rolls of bandages, some cream for bruises, and a trio of bottles of aspirin. Once all the new supplies were laid out upon the makeshift bed, rather than filling his pockets, Harry gratefully sat, shifting his right leg into a more comfortable position before him.
Carefully placing all the food in a knapsack hidden behind the rubbish bin to his left, Harry then turned to the bandages, bruise cream, and bottles of aspirin he had set aside. Stuffing the box of Band-aids and other two bottles of pills in one of the front pouches of the bag, the black-haired boy took a deep breath and ran a hand through his now-freed mane, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Hands careful and slow, Harry pulled up his right trousers leg, wincing and hissing softly in pain despite his caution. Slowly, a badly bruised lower leg came in contact with the November chill and dim light, an ugly bump about half-way down where the broken leg had partially healed wrong. A swollen ankle, tender and dark as well, wrapped in some dirty off-white makeshift bandage could also be seen as the tattered shoe was also removed from a small sore foot.
Harry hissed and gasped softly afterwards, face pale and sweaty with pain, taking a few more deep breaths before returning to the task at hand. Opening the blue jar of white cool bruise cream, he carefully dabbed and rubbed the smooth substance onto the many black, blue, green and yellow splotches covering his pale thin limb, shiver in chill and agony, wincing as his gentle fingers still caused shards of throbbing pain to flare up and down his lower leg. After the cream was on and a short rest was taken to catch his breath, hands reached for the roll of bandage lying nearby. Biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, the undersized lad wrapped the limb securely with the long tough length of cloth, silent tears dripping down his face in reaction to the agony dancing on his muscles and nerves as the broken bones shifted into something closer to their appropriate positions. Whimpering involuntarily as pain dug in her long claws, the boy also used the second roll to wrap up the swollen ankle, seeking to give enough support so that it could carry his slight weight easier. Finally finished, Harry rolled down his trousers leg, gently stuffed his cold foot back into his ragged right shoe, took a couple aspirin capsules, curled up into a small ball, and slipped into blissful painless sleep.
Several long minutes passed as the weak late fall sunlight struggled through the layers of snow-heavy clouds and fell upon the small still form of the boy. Vivid bright blue-gray eyes watched the limp form on the pile of cardboard and filthy scrappy blankets. Claws pattered lightly, restlessly, upon the hard rubbish-littered gray pavement beside a group of rubbish bins across and to the right of the young boy's "bed". Something of great size shifted in the dark shadow, a being with fur blacker than the hazy darkness and with equally dark rage and want for revenge. But the boy, the lad the creature had been startled by when he had slipped into the alley, the young one whom he had watched, admiring his resourcefulness and sympathizing with his homeless state, curious of his familiarity and upset by his pain, the boy had awakened something else in the being, something that wanted to help and protect the boy now asleep in the filth of the depths of London, something that pushed the anger and suffering of six long years into another deeper part of his mind and heart. Deciding to take a closer look at the lad, the creature crept quietly forward, nearly silent despite its size as it set large black paws moving across the space between the two in the alleyway. The being realized he must have made some noise, for the boy suddenly sat up and whipped his face towards the advancer. Freezing in mid-step, the beast stared in shock into a face he had hardly hoped he would ever see again, a face with black hair and glasses, brilliant emerald eyes, and a lightning-bolt scar upon the pale forehead, gazing in surprise right back at him.
Sleep-blurred green eyes blinked and stared some more. Those eyes took in the sight of a large black dog with pale blue-gray eyes standing in the alleyway, the eerie eyes of the huge canine bearing intelligence and shock never leaving the boy's face. Blue-tinted lips moved, letting out a puff of steam in the chill air as one word was whispered :
"Padfoot?"
_________
Well, there it is. The first chapter of my first fanfic. I know, it's a bit confusing, and more description than anything else, but I need to start somewhere!
Please let me know if there are any grammatical errors to be fixed. I don't have a beta-reader or anything, so I had to reread and check it for mistakes myself. (is that what a beta-reader does, or am I all wrong in that department?)
Please review, comment, critique, question, flame, whatever. I need your opinion on this! Please!
1st fanfic of any kind I've written. Please read and don't kill me!
___________________
Chapter 1 - Pain-fraught Meeting
A young boy in baggy trousers held up by a cracked belt, a dirty off-white shirt, and an equally baggy too-big coat stood outside a grocery store, watching a few early morning shoppers bustle in and out. The boy looked to be 5 or so, short and thin, too small for his seven and a half years. Longish black hair was somewhat tamed and hidden by a woolen hat, the tufts that weren't contained under the wooly prison of warmth sticking out in various directions. Bright emerald eyes peered at the store from behind black round-framed glasses held together with a bit of wire and tape. Small hands, partially covered in gloves with the fingers cut off, flexed and relaxed, preparing for the speed and stealth needed for survival. With a decisive nod, the boy strode forward, carefully hiding his limp from a wounded right leg.
Harry Potter entered through the automatic doors of the grocery store, eyes calmly and quickly spotting the employees and few other customers. Only difference was those people were paying for their goods; he wasn't. Walking quietly up and down the aisles, Harry's hands flicked over the shelves of goods, each time slipping something or another in a baggy pocket. No one noticed his actions; he was too fast, too quick, too . . . what was that phrase he had read once . . . nimble-fingered? Whatever it was, it made him an accomplished thief, allowing him to get what he needed from wherever he could, even if he didn't enjoy the whole stealing part. Didn't quite fit his morals. But he didn't really have a choice; he needed to shoplift to stay alive. Only once had he come close to being caught, and that had been in a different store all together. A falling display of cereal boxes in the next aisle had given Harry the chance to escape unscathed. Now, within a few short minutes, Harry had his goods and was headed across the parking lot and toward an alleyway a couple blocks away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The black-haired lad wearily knelt down onto his knees, resting on a blanket tossed over a couple pieces of cardboard, glad to take some weight off his sore feet. Hands quick as ever, Harry emptied his various pockets of the goods he had stolen but moments ago. A bag of beef jerky, a pack of hot dogs, four warm rolls of bread, two cans of chili and beans, three small cans of mixed fruit, five individual packs of tuna and crackers sets, a box of various sized band-aids, two rolls of bandages, some cream for bruises, and a trio of bottles of aspirin. Once all the new supplies were laid out upon the makeshift bed, rather than filling his pockets, Harry gratefully sat, shifting his right leg into a more comfortable position before him.
Carefully placing all the food in a knapsack hidden behind the rubbish bin to his left, Harry then turned to the bandages, bruise cream, and bottles of aspirin he had set aside. Stuffing the box of Band-aids and other two bottles of pills in one of the front pouches of the bag, the black-haired boy took a deep breath and ran a hand through his now-freed mane, preparing himself for what lay ahead. Hands careful and slow, Harry pulled up his right trousers leg, wincing and hissing softly in pain despite his caution. Slowly, a badly bruised lower leg came in contact with the November chill and dim light, an ugly bump about half-way down where the broken leg had partially healed wrong. A swollen ankle, tender and dark as well, wrapped in some dirty off-white makeshift bandage could also be seen as the tattered shoe was also removed from a small sore foot.
Harry hissed and gasped softly afterwards, face pale and sweaty with pain, taking a few more deep breaths before returning to the task at hand. Opening the blue jar of white cool bruise cream, he carefully dabbed and rubbed the smooth substance onto the many black, blue, green and yellow splotches covering his pale thin limb, shiver in chill and agony, wincing as his gentle fingers still caused shards of throbbing pain to flare up and down his lower leg. After the cream was on and a short rest was taken to catch his breath, hands reached for the roll of bandage lying nearby. Biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, the undersized lad wrapped the limb securely with the long tough length of cloth, silent tears dripping down his face in reaction to the agony dancing on his muscles and nerves as the broken bones shifted into something closer to their appropriate positions. Whimpering involuntarily as pain dug in her long claws, the boy also used the second roll to wrap up the swollen ankle, seeking to give enough support so that it could carry his slight weight easier. Finally finished, Harry rolled down his trousers leg, gently stuffed his cold foot back into his ragged right shoe, took a couple aspirin capsules, curled up into a small ball, and slipped into blissful painless sleep.
Several long minutes passed as the weak late fall sunlight struggled through the layers of snow-heavy clouds and fell upon the small still form of the boy. Vivid bright blue-gray eyes watched the limp form on the pile of cardboard and filthy scrappy blankets. Claws pattered lightly, restlessly, upon the hard rubbish-littered gray pavement beside a group of rubbish bins across and to the right of the young boy's "bed". Something of great size shifted in the dark shadow, a being with fur blacker than the hazy darkness and with equally dark rage and want for revenge. But the boy, the lad the creature had been startled by when he had slipped into the alley, the young one whom he had watched, admiring his resourcefulness and sympathizing with his homeless state, curious of his familiarity and upset by his pain, the boy had awakened something else in the being, something that wanted to help and protect the boy now asleep in the filth of the depths of London, something that pushed the anger and suffering of six long years into another deeper part of his mind and heart. Deciding to take a closer look at the lad, the creature crept quietly forward, nearly silent despite its size as it set large black paws moving across the space between the two in the alleyway. The being realized he must have made some noise, for the boy suddenly sat up and whipped his face towards the advancer. Freezing in mid-step, the beast stared in shock into a face he had hardly hoped he would ever see again, a face with black hair and glasses, brilliant emerald eyes, and a lightning-bolt scar upon the pale forehead, gazing in surprise right back at him.
Sleep-blurred green eyes blinked and stared some more. Those eyes took in the sight of a large black dog with pale blue-gray eyes standing in the alleyway, the eerie eyes of the huge canine bearing intelligence and shock never leaving the boy's face. Blue-tinted lips moved, letting out a puff of steam in the chill air as one word was whispered :
"Padfoot?"
_________
Well, there it is. The first chapter of my first fanfic. I know, it's a bit confusing, and more description than anything else, but I need to start somewhere!
Please let me know if there are any grammatical errors to be fixed. I don't have a beta-reader or anything, so I had to reread and check it for mistakes myself. (is that what a beta-reader does, or am I all wrong in that department?)
Please review, comment, critique, question, flame, whatever. I need your opinion on this! Please!