The Animator

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or a ceramic angel set. Trust me, that part needs to be disclaimed.

It all started with an angel.

The angel was part of a matched set of porcelain angels, given to Aunt Petunia by Mrs. Stoutman from Number Nine as the monthly Gardening Party held by Mrs. Rushden over on Crescent Court. It was partly a show of status, that Mrs. Stoutman could afford to give away such an expensive gift, and partly a bribe, as Mrs. Stoutman knew that Petunia had seen the deliveryman leaving her house rather later than required to drop off a package.

In any case, Petunia accepted it graciously, then set it up on a small side shelf in the living room and promptly forgot about it, except to mention to Harry to be careful when dusting around the angels. The set sat in the corner there for close to a year, until the Incident.

In truth, the incident doesn't really deserve capitalization, as it was rather similar to a dozen other incidents involving Dudley Dursley: it involved physical violence and broken objects. It was a Saturday, and Dudley and his friends were in the living room, watching cartoons on the telly, and arguing about who would win in a fight between a bear and a shark. As with many arguments involving six-year-olds, and all arguments involving Dudley, things quickly devolved to a wrestling match. In the course of the fight, a large book was thrown across the room, and it collided with the shelf holding the set of angels. (Where the book came from, given that Dudley would not willingly allow a book within three meters of himself, is a mystery for the ages).

The book didn't hit the angels directly, but jostled the shelf, causing the entire set to tip over on each other, with the associated breaking of ceramics and loud shattering sounds. Petunia, always sharp-eared for the making of messes, hurried in from where she had been supervising Harry mowing the back lawn. Naturally, the moment she entered the room, Dudley began blubbering about how the angels had just fallen over, and how it had scared him, etc. Given that Petunia had been watching Harry like a hawk outside, she, in a rare moment of clear thinking for a Dursley, didn't blame Harry for the destruction of the angels, instead citing shoddy workmanship (the angels having been made in China), and a lack of discernment on the part of Mrs. Stoutman, ignoring the fact that they had held up perfectly well for several months. However, that did not stop her from assigning Harry to clean up the pieces while Dudley and his friends went to play outside (Petunia not wanting to risk her Duddykins getting cut by a piece of ceramic angel).

Harry did so, only cutting his fingers twice before he figured out how to properly pick up the pieces and move them into the bag Petunia had thrown at him. Most of the angels had shattered completely, leaving only a handful of larger chunks, and several smaller pieces which Harry had to be careful picking up. Then Harry found The Angel. It was the smallest of the set, with only a plain white robe and two small wings. It didn't have any fancy adornments or instruments like the other pieces, so Petunia had pushed it to the back when setting up the set, and that had saved it from the worst of the damage. The only thing that had happened was the halo had broken off, leaving a crack in the head of the doll. A lightning-shaped crack which ran across its forehead, stopping right above its right eye.

Harry raised his hand to his own forehead, feeling the small lightning-bolt shaped scar he had there. For the rest of his life, Harry could never properly explain what he felt in that moment. His stomach twisted, and a single thought seemed to drill through him. The Angel was him, he was the Angel, they were mirrors of the same thing, just on different sides. Dizzily, Harry sat back, just clutching the angel in his hand, before he snapped back to the task at hand. Working quickly, Harry gathered up the last few pieces into the bag, hiding the Angel in the large folds of his clothes, and he then dragged the bag out to the bins next to the house. After that, he quickly retreated into his cupboard. Hands shaking, he pried back a small side panel he had found, leading to a space in the wall of the house. It was invisible, unless you physically entered the cupboard and crawled across the bed. Tenderly, he placed the small angel in the space, and then headed back out to finish mowing the back lawn.

Over the next several weeks, Harry thought constantly about the little angel. He pulled it from its hiding spot only rarely, often late at night before he fell asleep, as he didn't want to risk Vernon opening the door and catching him with the small figurine, which he was certainly not allowed to have. However, it filled his mind constantly, with the feeling of connection giving him a tingling warm feeling inside.

The first real sign that there was something truly special about the figure came after a truly terrible day at school. The school had hosted a "Bring-Your-Parent-To-School" day, where children could bring their parents in to talk about their jobs. Even those kids whose parents couldn't make it could stand up and tell the class what their parents did. Harry hid towards the back of the class, hoping that the teacher would miss his name.

"Harry Potter. Harry, why don't you come up and share about your..."

"His parents were drunks!" Dudley crowed at the top of his lungs, leading Harry to flinch, and several of the other students to laugh. The teacher frowned at Dudley.

"Now Dudley, that's not a very nice thing to..."

"It's the truth!" Dudley smirked at Harry. "That's how they died!"

"Oooooh" The class hummed in unison, while the teacher frowned harder.

"Yeah, they both got drunk, and then Boom! Crashed their car, and Harry had to come live with us. Huh, Harry?" Dudley smirked at Harry some more. "Innit that right, huh, Harry?"

The door banged as Harry ran out.

Harry was, predictably, sent to his cupboard with no dinner for making a scene. He curled up, sobbing, and, heedless of the danger of Vernon peering in, he pulled the angel up to his chest and hugged it tight, though not tight enough to damage it, desperate for some sort of connection. Slowly, Harry drifted off to sleep, his sobs slowly dying away.

When he awoke the next morning, it was with a sudden jolt. He shifted slightly, stretching out of his protective curl, and then paused. The angel was laying on his pillow by his head, and one of its tiny hands was resting against Harry's cheek. This was surprising, because Harry knew, from hours of staring at the angel, that its tiny porcelain hands should have been clasped in front of it in prayer. And yet its left hand was resting on Harry's cheek.

If Harry had been older, he might have questioned this sudden change more. He might have recoiled, pushed the angel away. As it was, he simply closed his eyes and cried, tears of joy mingled with those of pain, knowing that his angel was there for him.

Weeks past, and the oddity of the porcelain angel continued. Harry, feeling bolder, would frequently sleep with it on his pillow, and when awoke, he would find the head shifted to look at him, or one of its hands stretched out to touch his face or arms. In addition, when Harry was crying after Dudley pushing him into a rose bush, or after Vernon punished him for burning the bottom of a roast, he would swear that a faint noise, like a tiny bell, would start humming from within the angel. It was so faint that Harry almost thought he was imagining it, but it still helped him to calm down, falling to sleep knowing that his angel was singing to him.

The biggest change of all came on Dudley's seventh birthday. Aunt Marge was coming to visit, and Harry was dreading the inevitable disgust and ridicule that came with any visit from the large woman. She was set to arrive the night before Dudley's birthday, and she would leave that night after the big party. This year, they were taking Dudley to the cinema to see a new movie that had just came out. Petunia had spent all day cleaning the house, and snapping at Harry for not cleaning quick enough. Now, Harry was hidden away in his cupboard until Marge's arrival, so that he wouldn't "muck up the place". Privately, Harry thought that Dudley, with the bag of sweets he was carrying under his arm since this morning, was going to do more to muck up the place than him.

Harry breathed in deeply, then pulled out the little angel, holding it tight for comfort.

"...I love you, Angie." Harry had thought long and hard about what to name the angel, as it didn't feel right to just call it "the angel" all the time. But, he was so used to it, he felt a name close to angel would work best. Harry let out a long breath, then paused.

"!" A long ringing sound, louder than most that Harry had heard the angel make, rang out. Harry jumped glancing towards the door, but the sound of gunfire from the television show Dudley was watching easily drowned out any noise from Harry's cupboard. Harry leaned in, holding his breath.

"!..oo..yy..rrrr!" Harry's eyes widened as he could almost make out words in the ringing.

"Hello?" Harry's voice was tentative as he spoke. He felt kind of silly, as if Angie could talk, he would definitely know Harry by now.

"...lov...uu...ari"

"Love?" Harry blinked. "You?"

"Love...You...Har...ry"

Harry's eyes were wide as he stared down at the doll. It was completely still, and looked almost tired, though Harry couldn't quite describe what it was about the angel that looked tired. Still, as Vernon called for Harry and he quickly stored the angel away in the cubbyhole, a smile spread across Harry's face that Marge would spend her entire visit trying, and failing, to erase.

He was loved!

Ok, so this story is about Harry with a somewhat unique ability. Basically, he can forge a connection to objects, such as the Angel mentioned above, or his magic wand, etc. The basic idea is that each of the items gains a life of their own, to an extent, and they become constant companions to Harry, capable of limited speech and movement. They would also be able to shift forms and gain powers, depending on the strength of the connection and the magic flowing through them. For example, in times of stress, the Angel can transform into an adult-sized marble angel statue. However, it is extremely draining for Harry. Likewise, Harry's wand will be able to shift into a staff, and later into a wooden phoenix, capable of igniting while remaining unharmed.

The main problem I have with this story is that I don't have a plot to go with it beyond "Harry's items come to life". I have a few ideas for animated items, ranging from iconic items like the Firebolt or the Invisibility Cloak, to unique items, such as a mask Harry made for a class project, and an old broken toy car that Dudley played with and threw away.