He was eight years old, but his body had already lost the chub of youth. He was running down the alleys of Radiant Gardens, barefoot and filthy, a bag concealing food which he adamantly said wasn't stolen and only borrowed without permission.

Angry, drunken shouts followed him, but nothing was louder than his own beating heart.

He took a left and ducked into a shadowed alcove, hand clamped over his mouth to quiet his ragged breaths. Hoping that his bright, matted hair wouldn't be seen, he hunkered down and wrapped pale arms around his legs. The bloodthirsty yells passed the opening.

Sighing, Lea burrowed his face into his knees until the shouts quietened into whispers. His heart the only thing he could hear.

Badum

Badum

Ba-'ah'

His head snapped up and the bag was pressed to his chest securely. A small child toddled into view, dragging a blanket behind itself with one hand. The artificial lights that cut through the night cast a glow around its outline.

Clothed in rags worse than his own and just as skinny. It wouldn't survive much longer, at the age it appeared to be – four at the oldest. Lea watched it step forward towards him. It was a street kid. It took another step and knelt next to him, curling against the wall. Its dark hair covered its face.

"What's your name?" he asked it, knees coming down so he sat cross legged.

"Freak." He pursed his chapped lips. That didn't help identify if it was a boy or a girl.

"That doesn't sound like a good name," It shook its head rabidly for a second, before stopping, shrinking away and staring suspiciously at him. He flashed a small smile at it, fishing in his pocket and removing a lighter. With his other hand, he grabbed some of the trash they were sat near. Spinning the gear and striking the spark, lighting it up. It closed its eyes and wrinkled its nose. Burning trash didn't smell nice, but there was light and it was warm.

Fire flickered alive, dancing flames and the crackling chants of ancient times. It illuminated their faces and Lea got a look at the child next to him. Pale skin, dark hair, scratched and bruised. He sighed again. Its eyes opened and he was stuck with a familiarity like no other. But from where? He cast his mind back before realising.

He'd seen those eyes in a mirror, albeit a narrower shape. He frowned, confused. Flinching as something touched his head.

Its hand was reached out to him and gently running over his red hair. It shifted closer, to him and the fire.

"What you name?" it asked, harsh from lack of use. Lea grinned, feeding the fire more debris, despite the aroma.

"Lea," he answered, spying letters embroidered into the dirty blanket, "Can I see that?" He pointed to the cloth and gently slid it towards him.

H.A.R.R.I.E.T

"Harriet, is that your name?" it shrugged. "Are you a boy or a girl?" it grinned and answered the latter.

Harriet, Lea decided, was far too long to be good name.

"Would," he paused, watching as the girl stared at the dancing flames curiously, "You like some food?" She nodded.

Opening the satchel, Lea tore off a few chunks on bread from one of the squished loaves. He held them above the fire, letting it warm. Experience had taught him warm bread was better than cold bread. He handed one slightly charred lump to the girl.

"Here you are, Harri."

I have wanted to write this for the last year and here is the very short first chapter.

I haven't given up on my WTNV/HP fic, just hit a writers block.