You may wonder where this is coming from, a pilot like this. This was originally a pilot chapter for a failed and forgotten collaboration attempt with Shadowz101. Our intent was to create an entire crossover series with The Witcher. Unfortunately, this did not pan out. He and I were able to write a prologue that never really went anywhere. And by that, I mean it wasn't edited for nigh three years before I looked at it again. The project charter for this project was to write a childhood summer between Ciri and Harry which would eventually lead to her disappearing again and then him eventually making his way into the world of The Witcher. Unfortunately, all we really got done was this pilot chapter, and even then it isn't completed from what I can tell. That being said, this is the pilot we came up with.

Title: Untitled

Summary: Ciri ends up making her way into another world where technology is much different from her own and where magic is seen as superstition and myth except for a few. She meets a boy who is capable of performing magic like herself. How will she get back home and how will Geralt react? Not only that but when she does leave, how will the boy react?

Pairing: Ciri x Harry

Rating: M, however since this never panned out, this entry is only a T at the most.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and neither did Shadowz101. I only own my desktop and MS Word, and whatever he used to perform his writing segments. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and The Witcher to CDProjekt Red. We only owned the concept provided. See the foreword for the full disclaimer.

XxXxXxX

"Harry Potter." Now if you heard that name you would probably ask "who?" But to the residents of Little Whinging in Surrey, he was known as a little boy who was a well-known trouble magnet, whether he was looking for it or not. However, it wasn't entirely his fault. You see, young Harry was left on his aunt and uncle's doorstep one chilly November night by an unknown person after his parents had died. In his early years before he was forced by law to go to primary school, the little boy known as Harry thought his name was "freak" or "boy" as that was what he was called by his aunt and uncle, later by his cousin Dudley when he started to show some semblance of intelligence. Harry wasn't the smartest boy in the world, nor was he the dumbest, that title belonged to his cousin Dudley. He did realize that his aunt and uncle were certainly right about something though, he wasn't normal.

There were times where his teacher's hair would change color at random, usually whenever Harry was stressed by him or her. That usually leads him to be locked in his "bedroom" for an extended period, usually after being verbally berated or occasionally slapped around when his uncle got angry, or drunk, enough. The first instance of the latter was when Harry scored higher than Dudley in a math test; while Harry didn't have the highest score in the class, it was much higher than Dudley's 20%. He was slapped around for having a higher grade and sent to his "bedroom" without any supper that night.

"Boy, get out here!" Vernon yelled, as he never referred to Harry by his real name. The door opened to his 'bedroom' revealing a purple-faced Vernon. He must've had a really bad day at work to look like that, even though it was only lunch.

"Yes, sir?" Harry answered meekly.

"Get outside and weed the garden, then mow the lawn, and then prepare supper."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, getting out of the cupboard. He went to the back yard and opened the shed with the shed key he had gotten from his aunt Petunia, well more like she left it on the counter. Inside he saw a plethora of tools that a five-year-old shouldn't be operating, let alone touching, without a parent or guardian's supervision. Among the three chores that he had been told to do, these weren't the only ones he's had to do over the last two years alone. There was trimming the hedges with both manual and electric hedge trimmers, edging the lawn with a weed whacker, vacuuming the house, cleaning up all of Dudley's toys and placing them where he dictated, moving furniture, cooking breakfast, making lunches for Dudley and Vernon during the school year and making lunch in the summer, and reseeding the lawn when one of Aunt Marge's dogs decided to relieve themselves in the yard and grass would die.

Why they made Harry do all of these chores, he would never know. Or, he wouldn't know the true reasons for years to come. From what his aunt and uncle told him was that his parents were a pair of leeches that borrowed tons of money from both family and scrupulous shady people alike, were deadbeat drunks and drug addicts that died in a car accident and the police had left the toddler Harry on their doorstep to take in 'willingly'.

Little did Harry know that today, his life would irrevocably change. He knelt in the garden weeding, one of the Dursleys' favorite chores to saddle him with. He used some old beaten up gardening gloves, too big for his childish hands but they didn't care. They never cared. It was during these times that little Harry often daydreamed, thinking of a life far away from his aunt and uncle. It was the dream that kept him going, which kept the never-ending feeling of despair from destroying his young mind.

He often wondered what his parents were really like. Even at the tender age of 7 years old, he still knew in his heart that his aunt and uncle were lying. Whenever Harry ever brought up his parents, as rare as it was, they were always quick to say that they were drunk layabouts who died in a car crash. But he didn't believe it. He didn't know the truth, but he knew that wasn't it. Often he would have nightmares of a green light and a cruel laugh. He was too young to make sense of it all, but he could still hear the sound of his mother's voice begging an invisible foe to take her and let Harry live. So even if he didn't know the truth, he knew one important thing. His mother loved him. And that was enough.

It was after pulling out a particularly stubborn weed that he saw it. He almost didn't see it, for it was at the corner of his vision, next to the fence that separated the Dursleys garden from next door. The air twisted and shifted. Harry was mesmerized by the sight. In a sudden shift of light, the air flashed and a small girl came tumbling out. So shocked he was by this that he dropped the small weeding fork he was holding and rushed towards where the girl and appeared.

She appeared to be his age and was panting heavily as if she had been running. White hair covered her face, as she had not looked up yet, her hands out in front of her as she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her hair was ashen white, something that Harry found odd. It was certainly something he could imagine the Dursleys getting into a rant about. They deplored anything that didn't fit their perfect view of 'normal'.

"You're dressed funny," was the first thing Harry could think to say. For she was. She wore what looked like a white tunic, held on with leather straps. She wore leather boots and her whole outfit was covered in dirt. If Harry were a little more knowledgeable about LARPing or cosplay he probably would have assumed she was one. Her face snapped up at that, realizing that she was not alone. Her eyes were a startling green, a green so very similar in shade to his own, only made to look even brighter by the contrast of her ashen white hair.

The girl laughed softly, a light giggle that made Harry smile slightly.

"So are you," She replied, pointing a dirty finger at Harry's chest. And he did. His clothes, if you can them clothes still were many sizes too big as the only clothing he wore was the cast-offs and damaged clothing of his whale of a cousin Dudley. In fact, they were comically large, so baggy that they often hung around him like a poncho.

It was then that his mind caught up with him, realizing what he'd just seen for what it was. "You...you...just appeared," he stammered, waving his arms towards the empty air that she had appeared in.

She looked briefly at the patch of air she appeared and a panicked look came upon her face. "Oh no you saw me," she said, her eyes darting around in alarm. "Nobody is supposed to see me," she almost whispered.

"I won't tell. I promise," said Harry giving her a soft smile. "How did you do that?"

"I...magic?" she said quietly. Though it came out almost like a reluctant admittance.

"Magic?" Harry questioned.

"Er...yeah...magic," the girl said. She was hesitant, unsure. Harry could see her discomfort and quickly said.

"Don't worry I won't tell anyone. My aunt and uncle tell me that magic doesn't exist. I don't believe them," Harry said. Young Harry cast his mind back to all those times where he had done something odd or unusual. He'd never considered it magic. A life of hardship had given him a harsh sense of reality. But what he had just seen could only be described as one thing. Magic.

The girl brushed her hair away from her face, and for the first time since she'd appeared, he noticed the cuts and bruises on her face. In fact, they covered her whole body.

"You're hurt," Harry said in concern. The girl waved him off,

"I'm fine," she said defiantly. She scowled slightly and stood up shakily. Harry offered his hand but she didn't take it, instead of standing up slowly and brushing the dirt off her strange attire.

"What's your name?" Harry said, looking at the girl intently.

"Cirilla. But my friends call me Ciri," she replied, holding her hand out. For a second Harry did nothing, only staring blankly at her. She almost scowled, but then he shyly took her hand and shook it as it was intended.

"I've never had a friend before…" he mumbled, a slight flush on his cheeks. These works took Ciri aback.

"Really? Why not?" she said, this time her face meeting that scowl that hadn't quite formed before.

Harry didn't say anything averting his eyes from hers. She could see he was ashamed, but she couldn't pinpoint the reason. She had seen this kind of behavior before, though her mind couldn't pick up where from. She decided to just say nothing.

It was at that moment Harry realized how this would look to passers-by. And if there was one thing he had to learn in his short life was that anything considered abnormal was blamed on him. And this was certainly abnormal. He didn't want to get punished again. He was still starving from the last time.

"Quick hide!" Harry said in a panic, quickly grabbing the sleeve of the girl

"Why?" she asked while resisting his pulling by pulling back a little herself to stay in place.

"My aunt and Uncle...they'll see you. They don't like it when I talk to strangers. Especially strangely dressed ones," he said, gesturing to her while dragging her around the corner of the house. He left his trowel and fork on the grass. He hoped his aunt wouldn't check up on him soon. He didn't want her to scare his new friend away. Ciri could see the desperation in his eyes. She had seen this type of thing several times before, but that was from starving villagers and those on death's door. This was completely different.

XxXxXxX

That's all there really is. We didn't write anything beyond this for years. The only reason this is coming out so quickly, or well, quicker than normal is because this was pretty much archived. As presented in the opening notes, I don't have much else to say as I've already presented the idea. I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving for all of you who are in the US, for those who weren't, you didn't miss much other than turkey. See you guys next in whatever I do next.