Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, claim ownership to Hook, OUAT, the Addams Family, MCU, Grimm, or Harry Potter. They belong to their respective creators, no matter how terrible some may be. I do not get any monetary gain, this is purely my mind playing in the sandbox they created.


Mr and Mrs Dursley of 4 Private Drive, Little Whinging, we're proudly normal people, thank you. Rather well off, living among rows of houses that all looked the same, they had no issues one would think on first appearance, if one lacked a brain.

Mr Vernon Dursley was a walrus of a man, with the large caterpillar mustache to prove it. He worked at Grunnings, a small drill company, and came home often smelling of alcohol.

Mrs Petunia Dursley nee Evans was a thin, vain woman, with a long neck she used to peer over her neighbours' fences, and a horse-like face. She was a stay at home wife and spent most of her time gossiping with her fellow housewives.

Their son, Dudley, was a round little thing of two years. He was fussy and spoiled, and rather greedy for a child that young.

The Dursleys had a secret they would take to the grave. They weren't normal at all. They were cruel and vindictive monsters, who feared that which they didn't understand, and responded aggressively.

Their nephew, young Harry James Potter, was kept in the cupboard under the stairs, and fed the bare minimum. They believed something was wrong with the child, who never cried, never flinches, and was rather quiet.

All this changed one night, in June of the year two thousand and six. Whilst the Dursleys were sitting and eating dinner, their nephew forgotten in the back yard, a light fluttered over the child. It was as bright as the stars themselves, and just like the stars, called by a wish.

For if your heart is in your dreams, no wish is too extreme. And young Harry, despite being being barely a year old, had wished to be loved and free.

He looked at the light and giggled, waving. The light dimmed to reveal something rather odd. It was a woman in a rather pretty dress, with wings sprouting from her back. She stood at about the same height as a wallnut, and had short reddish blonde hair.

Using one hand, she grabbed the pinky of the baby boy, and started to fly. Miraculously, the boy came with her, giggling all the while. The lady had a goal in mind and took off, the boy trailing through the night sky with her.

~

14 Kensington Park Gardens was a quiet house this time of year, with only three long-term inhabitants. Two were peacefully sleeping away in their rooms, but the eldest, a kind old lady with a stern face, if one didn't see the smile in the corner of her mouth, was wide awake.

She sat by the window in her childhood nursery, reading an old leatherback novel. Her own personal version of Cinderella, where instead of falling for a prince she fights pirates. She had come up with the story for her brother many years ago, when they were still children.

A knocking brought her attention from the book to the window, where the little glowing lady hovered with the now sleeping babe. The old lady swiftly closed the book and stood up, rushing to the window and unlocking it. She smiled at the tiny being. "Hello old friend."

The little lady opened her mouth but instead of words, there was a chiming bell-like sound. The old lady chuckled and wrapped her arms around the boy to bring him in from the cold. "Yes, I suppose I am one to talk. Why did you not bring back with you?"

The winged lady made the bell sound again, it seemed to be her way of talking. "Harry Potter... I see. I'll make sure he's in the very best hands, he'll get the love and kindness a boy like him deserves. He's already lost. Don't you fret, Tinkerbell." The old woman said kindly, a warm smile on her face.

The pixie, now known as Tinkerbell, smiled and nodded, before flying out of the window like a tiny shooting star. The old woman closed the the window and looked to the sleeping Harry, brushing the hair away from his red fresh scar upon his forehead. "Welcome to the family, Darling..."