Thank you to everyone whom has reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story
as always, I am playing in JK Rowlings sandbox, and that of Little Miss Mionie
Harry ran a hand through his hair and Aubree snapped her fingers.
"This is what I was enlarging before…" she announced, showing what once was a scrap piece of paper with black dots, and was now a newspaper, with the broad title;
THE DAILY PROPHET
Harry cursed this weather out loud to Aubree; their surroundings were too dim for them too read any font less bold than the title…
But before they could look at the rest of the article, a blonde haired boy came dashing through the park, wearing…
"Is that kid wearing a dress, Harry?" asked Aubree in slight disgust, worrying about the sanity of the boy. Without waiting for Harry to reply, she muttered, "What a faggot!"
Harry punched Aubree in the arm, and the she was surprised to note that it hurt like bloody hell.
"What was that for?" she cried. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to get need to some soap or something to wash your mouth out with," replied Harry, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You're nine years old; you shouldn't know those words, or what they mean!"
"Hark whose talking!" Aubree shot back, jabbing her finger into Harry's shoulder repeatedly, to emphasize the point. "You're the one, if I recall correctly, asked me 'who stuck a pole up my arse', so you can't talk about me needing to wash my mouth out with-"
Aubree and Harry both stared at Harry's outstretched hand in awe.
"Soap," muttered Aubree faintly. Harry just gulped, staring at the white bar in his hand and whispered;
"How did a bar of soap get in my hand?!"
Sure enough, there was a bar of soap in his hand. Harry and Aubree made eye contact.
"Um," Aubree started weakly, "…Magic?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "There's no such thing, Aubree Lestrange, as--"
"Magic!"
Harry and Aubree turned around to see the blonde boy running up to them. (Let it be noted that the blonde boy was the one that called out 'Magic!', for all those who didn't quite catch on…)
Harry faintly registered that it had stopped raining; the storm had somehow gone away completely and the sun was now providing a lot of light…
Aubree seemed to be a little hysterical, and Harry was not far behind her.
"Harry…!"
"Yes, Aubree?"
"You wished that the weather was better didn't you?"
"…Yes…but you don't think that…that I--"
The two nine year old did something that Harry thought only that sitcom The Brady Bunch that Aunt Petunia always watched could do that thing how they all traded looks at different times, but it seemed that even the genius that was Harry Potter could be proven wrong.
And it was done so by Harry and Aubree taking time to quickly look at each other and the great flaming orb in the sky.
Harry suddenly noticed that the fair-haired boy was getting closer to them.
"Aubree!" cried Harry, picking up the… 'Daily Prophet', or so it was called… and thrusting it to her ruthlessly. "Hide it!" he quickly said; he didn't want some other kid looking at it.
Aubree seemed to think the same thing, and she quickly held onto the paper with both hands, and the purple glow once again formed around the paper and her palms.
If Harry wasn't watching it with his own too slightly impaired eyes (but he had his glasses to fix that problem, so it must've been true…) he would not have believed what he saw.
Aubree closed her eyes, and the next moment the paper changed shape into an azure coloured pixie-shaped hair clip, which she hastily pinned to her pretty black locks.
Harry gave her and funny sort of look, to which she retorted, "Potter, you've put fairies on my brain."
They both turned around to see the blonde haired boy standing in front of them.
"Hello," he said, regally. Harry didn't like the look of this kid; nor did Aubree, it seemed.
"Hi," greeted the two protagonists in unison.
"Did you use your wand to summon that soap out from my cloak?" the boy asked.
"Wand? Summon?" repeated Harry, confused to say the least.
"Oh, drat," said the boy, eyeing Aubree and Harry now as though they were pieces of waste, his pointed nose held high. "You two must be Muggles…"
The boy spat the word, as if it were…soap suds in his mouth.
Harry was just about to question the boy with "What the heck are 'Muggles'?", but Aubree interrupted, inquiring;
"What on earth were you doing with a bar of soap in your…cloak, you call it?" eyeing the dress…thingy in distaste. She'd be damned if she'd ever wear a dress!
"I stole it from a shop, along with other things," he supplied proudly.
Aubree and Harry nodded, prompting the boy (whom they already very much loathed) to continue.
"And my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Draco, as Harry and Aubree now knew him as, pompously inquired of them:
"And what are your names?"
Harry closed his eyes as if in pain. That deduction was not far from the truth, though; he was merely uncomfortable. He just couldn't tell Draco his name; what if (though it was highly unlikely) the Dursley's had reported him missing?
Harry snapped open his eyes, and wished that time would just stop, if only for a moment-
Aubree was staring at Harry like he had grown an extra head. Okay, like he had grown two extra heads.
"What?" asked Harry, absently checking himself over, abruptly feeling very insecure.
Aubree pointed to Draco Malfoy, who wasn't blinking at all…or breathing…and then to the trees that were frozen in mid-sway, and a black kitten that was stuck in mid pounce over on the other side of the playground.
"Oh," was all that Harry could muster to say.
Aubree replied by screaming frenziedly (Harry thought she was going to have a conniption); "DID YOU HAPPEN TO WISH FOR TIME TO STOP?"
Damn, mused Harry, I know this girl for an hour and she already knows me better than I know myself!
Harry shrunk under Aubree's fiery gaze, and with good reason; her left eye had turned vivid purple again.
"Only momentarily…" Harry said in a small voice, and Aubree groaned.
"Well, 'momentarily', that's alright then!" the young Lestrange snapped sarcastically.
"C'mon," she muttered, casting a feverish look at the still frozen Malfoy. "We have to get out of here, fast…"
Aubree grabbed Harry's hand, shooting him a determined look.
And then all of a sudden, a great white blinding light obscured their vision. A light breeze seemed to pass by them, and when their vision cleared, they found themselves far, far away from the Playground.
Aubree quickly hid her glowing violet hands behind her back so Harry wouldn't see.
They seemed to be in some sort of shopping district, which was buzzing with colours and life. Harry guessed that the time-stop must've stopped working.
He looked up at a nearby sign that had emblazoned upon in 'Diagon Alley'.
What is this place?
Harry then traded a look with Aubree, and hastily said; "I didn't do it! Magically transport us, that is."
His companion's expression softened and she revealed her hands, upon which the glow was slowly diminishing. "It was me…" she confessed quietly. "It's not the first time I've done it, either."
But before Harry could give a shocked reply, Aubree exclaimed:
"Ah-ha! You said magically transported- so you do believe in magic now, huh?"
And then before Harry could reply to that, Aubree started to talk again.
"Oooh look Harry! An ice-cream store! We should get some ice-cream, and then we could read the paper that I started to show you!"
Harry sighed. I wouldn't mind an ice-cream myself- plus I wanna see that Daily Prophet paper…
"Okay, then," agreed The (unbeknownst to him) Boy-Who-Lived.
"Good!" cheered Aubree, her curly black locks blowing in the slight breeze as she grinned at her new friend. "…But how will we get the money for ice-cream?"
Now it was Harry's turn to grin.
"I know exactly how."
Dumbledore sighed as he idly patted his red and gold Phoenix, Fawkes.
Little Harry Potter had been missing for months, and he had only just found out!
It seemed that his relatives, The Dursley's, had been under some type enchantment, as they hadn't noticed their nephew's non-existent presence at all.
But what confounded Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the fact that the enchantment could not be traced back to the caster.
So obviously Harry had been kidnapped or something of that sort. He was only nine; he couldn't have possibly had the sense to run away to nowhere; didn't all those little lads just run off to the circus?
In any case, Dumbledore knew he had to find Harry. The boy would not be able to defend himself.
As he silently watched Fawkes fly away, Albus wondered if his beloved bird would be able to find the Boy-Who-Lived.
Because Harry James Potter seemed to be untraceable.
Aubree's eyes perked up and she listened intently to Harry as they hid behind a huge dumpster, where no-one could see them.
"…so, all we gotta do is change our appearance." continued Harry. "Can you do that for both of us?"
Aubree bit her lip, thought for a moment, and then nodded, agreeing. She placed her left hand on Harry's head, and her right on her own head.
Harry watched intensely as Aubree's left eye turned purple once again, and felt as his whole body was rearranging itself.
Which, may it be noted, is a very odd sensation to be going through.
Aubree drew her hands away, and Harry smiled. Aubree looked completely different.
She had short cropped blonde hair with two bright purple eyes. She had made herself look taller and older too; she looked to be about fifteen.
Harry wondered how he looked. "Is there a mirror somewhere around here?" he asked.
Aubree smiled, and clicked the tiny latch on her heart shaped locket open as she pulled it out from underneath her shirt. Harry's eyes brightened a she opened it to reveal a tiny mirror.
She pointed it in Harry's direction and he observed himself.
He too had bright purple eyes, and had dusty brown hair. He looked look a six year old. Harry frowned.
"Why'd you change our heights?" he inquired.
Aubree smirked evilly, which looked pretty intimidating seeing as she looked about nine years older than Harry.
"But I didn't change your height Harry!"
Harry narrowed his eyes at Aubree. "You know, Aubree, we need to have fake names too. For you I was thinking Fae…"
Aubree snapped her fingers, groaning. "Fine, Harry, you win." Harry noticed that her voice sounded older too. "Well…you can be…Roger, then."
"Roger. Are you SERIOUS?"
"Very. What about our last name?"
Harry looked around the shopping district, looking for inspiration. He spied a nearby bank.
"How about Roger and Fae Gringotts?" he suggested. Aubree nodded, agreeing.
Then Harry AKA Roger told Aubree AKA Fae 'The Plan'.
Goblins ran around hurriedly all across Gringotts Bank. Frantically one might say. Today was the day that the Gringotts heirs were coming to visit.
They wouldn't want anything to go wrong.
'Fae' watched 'Roger' walk up to a very large, exceedingly wealthy looking man.
He widened his eyes in a manner that was reminiscent of a puppy dog, tapped the man on the shoulder, crying and screaming "I want my sister! I want my sister!"
And Aubree silently watched Harry 'Roger', waiting for him to work his magic, and waiting for her cue.
In a dark and dank cell on a tiny gloomy island, a woman with black hair cried.
She cried for the daughter she had never gotten the chance to know, and for the daughter that no-one, not even her husband knew about.