Disclaimer: I own neither of the canon pieces used in this fanfiction, and anything I allude to I probably don't own either.
Harry woke up early, fully prepared for another day of slave labour when he realised that it was the Last Day: the day he went to Professor Lupin's. However, he knew that Vernon would still keep him working until 10:59, so he wasn't too excited. Still, it was better working for half a day to be saved by a werewolf than working all day under the watchful eyes of a woman with the world's most flexible neck.
Harry dressed slowly, taking in the fact that this would be the last time until the following July that he would have to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs. They didn't cover as much of him as he would like in some places, and too much of him in others. He was tempted to put some of the Shrinking Potion he'd saved on the trousers, but there was a distinct possibility that it could… rub off in certain places.
Walking downstairs quietly to keep the Dursleys asleep as long as possible, he wondered what the rest of the summer would be like. He knew that, no doubt, it would be no easier than his summer had been thus far. What with the resurrection of the Dark Lord and all, he expected something in the way of Defence Against the Dark Arts training. It was the only way, Harry imagined, that Professor Lupin would be able to convince Dumbledore to allow him to leave the relative safety of his relatives.
Perhaps he'll teach me to become an Animagus… nah. Harry knew that Prongs, Padfoot, and Wormtail had no doubt done what they had done against Moony's wishes. Or didn't tell him. At any rate, he disapproved of it and never would have asked them.
Harry prepared breakfast with the same enthusiasm he put into everything else the Dursleys "asked" him to do (i.e., not much). However, whether in celebration of him leaving or in remembrance of their lost slave, there was more than oatmeal and grapefruit for breakfast. There was a note on the refrigerator telling him what to do.
Boy:
Make my coffee the same way I always want it.
There's eggs and bacon in here. Make enough for Dudley, ("Three tonnes," Harry muttered) your aunt and me.
After breakfast kindly disappear from sight until your thing sucks you wherever you're going. See if you can avoid coming back. Ever.
Vernon
"Well, he's honest," Harry said of his uncle. "I suppose he won't have me working all day then." What's the term? A reprieve? he thought.
Harry set to the bacon, making sure not to burn it. He'd once got sentenced to the Cupboard (deserving of a capital letter not because of being ominous, but from repeated use) for a week for that. It had been rather inconvenient for Harry, who had to wait to eat until after ten, when the family went to bed (one could set their watch to that nice, respectable family).
Distracted by the need to avoid burning the food, he neglected to make sure he didn't burn himself. "Ack!" he cried as the grease hit his skin. The pain was less than he was used to from grease splatters, but he had got used to anything liquid hitting his arm shooting up flowers or boils or such like.
Harry began to put his hand in the sink to cool the burn, but he then noticed ripples in the water. Small at first, but they were growing. Dudley must be awake, Harry thought. Or there's a tyrannosaurus outside.
He dashed back to the bacon, not particularly because he was afraid of what would happen if Dudley's breakfast wasn't on the table, but mostly due to the fact that Dudley had a tendency to scream when things weren't going his way. Loudly. And then Petunia would start in, followed by Vernon, and that put a lot of strain on the young wizard's sensitive ears.
"You're making bacon," the wide boy stated as he entered his favourite room.
"Nothing gets past you," Harry retorted sarcastically, ducking a blow from Dudley without bothering to look. Dudley snorted (a derisive snort, not a pig-like snort, though Dudley was known to do both. Sometimes at the same time) and, sitting down at the table, flicked on the TV.
Harry continued cooking, vaguely aware of Petunia walking in and saying something, Vernon walking in and saying something else, the animated girl on the TV saying something that was probably far more important than anything either of them had to say, and Dudley eating. Finally, the family breakfast complete, Harry microwaved some instant oatmeal and ate standing up. The entire ordeal went by more amiably than Harry expected. Of course, the Dursleys were mostly ignoring his presence.
~*~
Earlier that morning, Harry slipped his Portkey in his back pocket. That way, if Uncle Vernon tried to overwork him into forgetting to check the time (not bloody likely, but the possibility was there) he'd be instantly taken anyway.
He only hoped it wouldn't just take his pants. The Queens of Hormones and Giggling (they did get the ominous lettering) had enough fun.
~*~
At ten fifty-five, Harry ran up to his bedroom to make sure that Dobby had taken everything. He checked under his bed, under the floorboards, in the broken desk (it was an innocent bystander when Dudley had destroyed his computer for not being IBM compatible) and everywhere else he hid his food. The most he came up with was a stale sugar quill. Blueberry, incidentally.
At ten fifty-eight, he bid his "family" farewell, along with his deepest wishes of the rest of their lives being as horrible as his summer had been. They cheerfully said the same.
At ten fifty-nine, Harry slipped the quill into his mouth and waited patiently for the pull behind his navel.
At ten sixty, Harry realised there was something wrong with the Dursleys' digital clock. He would have told them, but he was taken away before his lips could form the words.
~*~
Harry hadn't really been in many magical homes. In fact, he'd only ever been in the Burrow, which as he recalled, was held up by magic and wishful thinking. Not to say he'd ever been anywhere he'd rather be; the Burrow was as close to home as Harry'd ever felt.
Lupin's was nothing at all like that, as far as he could tell from the floor he'd met face-first when he landed. It had carpet, for one thing.
"Harry!" said a happy voice. A strong pair of arms helped him off the floor and patted his shoulder in a fatherly gesture.
"Hello Professor," Harry replied, looking at his surroundings. He was really at a loss for words, as he didn't know the proper etiquette for being pulled instantly through space to the home of one of one's father's best friends who happens to transform, once a month, into a ravenous snarling beast capable of decimating an entire village. He guessed. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Professor."
Remus shrugged shyly. He looked, Harry noted, tired, but that was to be expected the first day after a full moon. "I'm not your professor anymore, Harry. You can call me Remus. Or Moony. Or the Greatest of Marauders, Superior to Padfoot. Yes, I quite like that one." That brought a chuckle from Harry, and the relative awkwardness between them disappeared rather quickly.
Moony showed Harry around the house, telling him various things about it along the way. "I bought the house only about sixteen years ago," he said, leading Harry through the hallways. "Unfortunately, I was foolish enough to let Padfoot name it."
"What's it called?" Harry asked, looking at a picture of James and Sirius standing behind Lily. They both grinned conspiratorially and kissed her on either cheek.
"Moony Manor," Remus replied, grinning. Harry laughed out loud at that at about the same time Lily shoved Prongs and Padfoot away good-naturedly. Noticing where Harry had been staring, Moony stared wistfully at that picture. "Your mother had as good a sense of humour as any of us. I suppose she'd have to, being married to James." He picked the picture of the wall and brushed his fingers against it gently. Harry got the distinct feeling his former teacher was talking more to himself than him. "Once, on April Fools' Day, Sirius got the idea to hide in London and pop out as Padfoot whenever he saw someone magic. They would scream 'Grim!' and run to the Leaky Cauldron.
"Well, Lily called the Muggle Animal Control people and they put him in the pound. He spent all night there until Peter and I came to get him." Harry was half surprised to hear Wormtail's name come up in Moony's reminiscing, but then, it was probably easier to remember him as a fellow Marauder than as a traitor. "Padfoot got her back though." Moony motioned to a picture further down the hall. Harry went to look at it, seeing an angry blonde woman with her wand pointed at Sirius. Harry's godfather was apparently laughing along with Remus, and Prongs was standing behind the blonde trying not to laugh. With a start, he realised who the blonde woman was. "He charmed her hair blonde," Remus said, grinning mischievously. "And she nearly killed him before James stopped her."
Moony replaced the picture on the wall and showed Harry the rest of the house. Occasionally, he would stop to point out some random Marauder Moment. Finally, when they reached the end of the tour, Harry asked something that'd been bugging him since he received the letter. "Why did you invite me here?" he blurted, not knowing any better way to put it.
"I remember your work habits at school, and your feelings about Professor Snape," Lupin said. "You wrote about that homework assignment far too early, so I figured you had nothing better to do than homework."
"Least of all Snape's homework," Harry muttered.
"Professor Snape," Moony corrected automatically.
"As in, 'Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business'?" Harry retorted, quoting the Marauders' Map exactly.
"Er… never mind then," Moony said.
As the smarter of you have already figured out, this is indeed a Dragonball Z crossover. And yes, this does mean that James was a Saiyan. If you'd like the back-story for James, just say so in a review, and I'll post it in an interlude or something. That is, if enough people demand it. It'll come up in the story sooner or later anyway.
I have to admit I'm surprised by the amount of people who thought Harry was Kryptonian. Not a bad idea, I think. Maybe one of you should write it.