Somewhere in the back of his mind the small dark haired boy wondered why no one cared for him. He was intelligent, precociously so, and desperately he tried to do what his aunt and uncle and teachers wanted. Sad green eyes looked out from his cupboard where, in a fit of rage his uncle had said he would spend the next year. He was going hungry again that night, knowing no one would even bring water, let alone food. He had started to feel that burning sensation in his lower abdomen that he knew meant he hadn't had enough water. He tried to sleep anyway. Experience had taught him that saving his strength was important.
Many hours later, he heard a creak on the stairs, his arms reflexively coming up to protect his face and throat. His cousin Dudley was coming down for a late night snack. You didn't get to be his size without getting in extra meals.
Dudley was thinking hard. His cousin Harry was a 'constant irritation,' since that is what his mom and dad said he was. He didn't really understand why but this did give him opportunity to constantly torment the smaller boy. It was good to feel that power, but it meant that he had to share the house. He didn't like that and the small brain of Dudley created a plan.
Quietly going to the cupboard, Dudley unlocked and opened it. Then he walked to the front door and opened it, standing aside. He didn't say a word, but every eight year old knows that he meant 'get out.'
Without so much as a word of argument, Harry slipped on his trainers and grabbed the only other possessions he had, a heavy shirt and bundle of clothes, and walked out the door into the night.
Not knowing where to go, he walked down the streets. It was lightly raining but the stars were showing through in some places and he figured it would stop shortly. His priority was water and soon he found a downspout that had an adequate flow and relieved his burning thirst.
Hours later the sun came up showing a bright and glorious dawn, full of hope and promise. He smiled at the entirety of creation seeing beauty and wonder in places others might not even look. Something was pulling him, he felt, to walk a certain way. Since he didn't care which direction he went, he just followed that internal tug. People were driving to start their day happily dropping off kids for school. He looked at the children with a bit on envy, since he was not allowed to go to school, just get dropped off at the library most days, with a bribe to the librarian to see that he didn't go anywhere. He saw a few children and one father standing at the curb speaking angrily with someone else in a car. After a few more shouted words he yelled at the children to get back in the car and they drove off, leaving one small girl alone in front of a locked school building. The boy paid only a bit of attention to the entire thing until a van with a Shakies Snacks sign stopped in front of the school. In a flash a man opened the side door and descended on the girl, picking her up bodily and turning to race back to the waiting van.
The abused boy watched the scene unfold and was moving before the man took two steps. He may not be a large boy but he was used to dodging his cousin and his cousin's friends when they chased him around the neighbor hood, which means he was fast. The potential kidnapper was running back and only a few steps from the vehicle when the boy collided with him right at the knees and the three of them went down hard. The large man's entire weight came down on the boy and he felt a vague crack. Concentrating on the fate of the girl he heard a 'whumph' as she tumbled to the ground.
¬¬"Run," he yelled, noticing a shooting pain in his chest from where the man's knee impacted. Not wasting time the terrified girl sprinted down the sidewalk away from the van her hair flying in the breeze. Surprisingly, the boy caught up with her in just a short bit then grabbed her hand, yanking her down a side street and through a tall hedge. They quickly went behind a short fence and into the next block where the boy had a hiding place.
They ducked through the small opening and behind a hedge where there were an old blanket and what was left of a dog house. The children gratefully snuck out of sight. Harry looked at the girl who was panting heavily with exertion and fright, blood on her lip and cheek. He had never felt able to help others before and he didn't know what to do, but his heart went out to her. She was scared and hurt, but she had kept her school pack with a few books in it, never considering abandoning it to save her life.
"I'll protect you. You are safe now," he said, knowing that he had never been found in this hiding place, when he could reach it.
She looked at him, smaller than her, and wondered if he was real. She thought hard for a minute to place what had happened and relate it to her sheltered life. It sounded like a fairy tale. Of course her savior was only about her age and his pale sweaty face probably meant he had some injury. So she went with the flight of fancy, hoping it would lighten the dark intensity she saw in his eyes.
"I read about how if knight saves a lady he is owed a reward. You saved me and therefore." She stopped, noticing blood on his face from the knee he took to the mouth when tackling the man, but she ignored it. She knew from the book that the knight later married the lady where they lived together in happiness forever. Without any warning she leaned to him and kissed him, the blood on both of their faces mingling and bringing a trace of magic in the air. He looked up with a surprised smile and wiped the corner of his mouth that stung, realizing his knuckle was also damaged he sucked on it for a second and watched as the girl chewed her lower lip anxiously. She was pretty. Given the innocence and age of the children, neither blushed.
"I thank you immensely, but this peasant is undeserving of any gift from such a lady. Although I will cherish my first kiss for the rest of my life, I am chattel not a real person." Harry's voice held a reflection of the beaten down attitude the Dursley's has instilled in him.
She was startled when he spoke. His low esteem was quite evident but no other child her age spoke like she did, using adult language to express themselves from an obviously well-read mind. As usually happened when she saw a wrong that needed righting, she reacted.
"You are NOT a peasant! You can be my prince," she said with conviction and not a small amount of hope, watching his face for signs. She waited for him to say he didn't want to be her prince or her anything else, convinced that this boy was just being very polite. She had no friends.
"That would make you my princess, lady," he said in sober tones, "if you want to be." He took a deep shaky breath and she subtly realized that he was hurt far more than she expected, but he didn't want her to know.
"Yes," they said her word coming out just a bit before his and they grasped each other's hands.
They both swallowed nervously. Unknown to them an ancient ritual using blood, unwavering trust and charged with strong magic was completed. No two other children under the age of thirteen were strong enough to have powered this ritual and few could have meant the commitment to lead a life where their friendship was lifelong at such a young age. A violet ring of light surrounded them, quickly transitioning through indigo to blue, literally flaming with heat, before it dissipated.
"What was that? It looked like magic," the girl said with wonder in her voice.
"Don't say that," the boy said hissed in a fearful whisper, while running his hand along his ribcage to see if it was just bruised or broken.
"What are you afraid of?" she looked around.
"Don't ever say the word magic, my uncle doesn't like it." His guarded hurt expression brought tears to her eyes, but she nodded. After a few more minutes he calmed down, not seeing anyone else approaching.
"We have to get you back to safety," he said. She saw he didn't want to talk about that other thing, so she let it go. Pulling her up, he almost dragged her back to the street, carefully scanning the road looking for the van or anyone lurking around.
"Now what?" He asked simply, wanting to know what she wanted to do.
"Thank you again, for saving me. I want to call my mum," she said timidly, realizing she didn't even know how to get back to the school and then she starting shaking.
He mumbled a quiet. "you are very welcome." Then he added, "you know the number?" She nodded.
He looked at her and noticing her shaking and continued. "You are safe with me. I know where we can get to a phone." She relaxed some as he smiled at her.
"I am Hermione Granger," she added with her own smile then expectantly looked at him.
"Freak," he answered automatically indicating himself. Looking down the street, he motioning her to follow.
"Stop!" Her voice had suddenly raised in volume and authority so he froze, fearful. "Don't you ever say that about yourself again. What is your name?"
"Harry Potter," he said quietly, "but I am still…"
"Harry," she interrupted quietly, "are freaks heroes?"
"No, but I…"
"Do freaks run after men thrice their size and save a girl from…" tears welled up in both their eyes as they had some vague idea of the hurts that could have followed.
"No," he said with more courage. She reached over an took his hand and he stifled a wince at the physical touch, he was not used to it.
"Where do you live Hermione?"
She answered him absently, quoting her home address and phone number from rote, still shook up.
"I will find you a phone, my lady," he diverted, his voice solemn and sounding like a much older boy. He didn't want her to say good things about him. There weren't any.
"Never again believe someone who says you aren't good," she said with conviction, ignoring his attempt to move the conversation to another topic. As if she had just read his mind.
"Yes, Hermione," he enjoyed saying her name. Someone believed in him. He smiled at her as they walked, with her still holding his hand and for the first time since he was two years old, he didn't pull away from human contact.
A few minutes later he walked her into a local bakery that was open to get tea and pastries for early risers on the way to work.
"Ma'am, may we use the phone?" The tired shopkeeper barely spared a glace at the kids and waved them toward a phone at the end of the tall counter. There were a few tall stools by another counter and Harry immediately pulled one over next to the phone so Hermione could climb up and reach the numbers.
"Mum," the tears started coming as soon as she heard her mother's voice and suddenly she couldn't talk. She wanted to scream. She didn't know where she was and her mother was going to send her back to that school and she was afraid that van would find her again. Harry stepped up on the edge of the stool and gently took the receiver from her shaking hand.
"Are you Hermione's mother?" He asked quietly.
"Yes, is she well? Is this the school?" Helen was almost beside herself with worry and Harry heard this in her voice.
"Hermione is fine, just a couple of bumps. Can you come get her? We are at #5 Whippleton Way, the old pastry shop. Sooner would be better, she is obviously upset."
Harry heard the voice in the background, 'Glen, they found her. Start the car.'
"We will be right there, don't leave." The line went dead and Harry looked at his new friend, seeing her shaking shoulders but not knowing what to do. It seemed like just a few minutes later when a car pulled up and Hermione ran into her mother's arms sobbing. A lean kindly looking man was behind them, patting his wife's back gently.
He looked into the shop, noticing that no one else was there and walked up to the boy.
"Are you the young man my wife was talking to on the phone?" He said gravely.
"Yes sir. I think she needs to take a day off of school sir. She has had a trying experience and I doubt she will be as able to pay attention as well as normal. This sort of thing tends to confuse ones emotions and increases behavior that would make her less socially acceptable." Hearing the adult words from the small boy made Glen Granger smile. He sounded like Hermione, big words well put together along with a similarly worn expression of seriousness.
"What do you know of the situation," Glen usually spoke to children as adults, only making concessions when the child didn't understand and that was one of the reasons his daughter was so articulate. "We are almost two klicks from the school, how did you get here?" His voice took on a protective tone.
In the back of the shop, Hermione was going to start telling her mother what had happened. Helen knew part of it, a janitor from the school had seen most of it but had been unable to get to the door and through it fast enough to intervene. The school had called as soon as possible afterward, but it had taken some time to identify the girl and know which family to call.
"Glen, you need to hear this," Helen called to her husband. Hermione was just starting to tell details.
"So after the Gordon's left, I saw this boy walking up the sidewalk. I thought he was homeless." At this Harry looked down at his unkempt and overly large clothing and smiled mirthlessly. "Well, a minute later this white van pulls up and I thought it was the cleaning crew, well this man jumps out and throws me over his shoulder and starts back to the van. I panicked for a second and hear this scream and then we both fall down as this boy had come in like a speeding car trying to ram another and smacked headfirst into his knees." Harry again is surprised at this, he doesn't remember yelling. "Well the man was dazed for a moment, then the boy, he yells 'run,' and while the man is looking at this boy and trying to figure out what just happened, I run the other direction. I didn't even look back. Well Harry, that is what he later said his name was; Harry is really fast because he caught me before I could go a block and pulled me through several twists and turns before we ran through a hedge and into a small hiding spot. He is really good at hiding. So then I thanked him and he asked me what I wanted to do, meaning go back to school or call you I suppose. Oh, and I am pretty sure he is hurt much worse than he let on, probably a cracked rib or something. Well I said I wanted to call you and then he said he knew where there was a phone. Well he carefully checked the street for the bad guy and thought it was clear. So he walked me straight to this place and when I started crying on the phone he picked it up and he told you where to come. I don't even know where we are yet.
"Mum, dad, he really saved me," the wonder in her voice brought a smile to Glen.
"You know dear," her mother started, "we need to report this."
"Agreed," Glen said. "We will want to get any details and naturally we want to thank and reward," he looked down and noticed the boy was missing. Not even waiting to be thanked. Glen immediately ran out to the parking area and scanned for him, the women following quietly.
"He is really good at hiding, a fact I am grateful for dad. You won't find him if he doesn't want it." She laughed at the bleak look in her father's face. "He gave you the slip."
The rest of the day was a trying one to Hermione, they talked to an inspector for almost an hour then she went home and had some tea and biscuits before falling asleep on the divan.
Harry slowly entered the house, grateful that the door hadn't been locked. The next almost half hour was spent being chased around the house by Aunt Petunia with a nylon spatula receiving swats on any body part that was within reach and screaming about his freakishness not ever being seen outside the house. Finally he was locked back in the cupboard. Normally tears would come, but now something was different. Every time he heard himself called a freak, a voice that sounded just a bit like Hermione's replied, 'prince!'
It was several days later when Hermione received a letter in the post. She had never received mail before, so her mother set it carefully on the table. Glen and Helen had decided to pull her from the school and have her go to one closer to home. It wasn't as good, but it made everyone feel safer. This was her first day and she worried. Hermione had never done well at making friends.
That evening Hermione was brought home by Glen and went straight to her room not saying anything more that 'hi' to her mother.
"I tried talking to her," Glen started, "but all I got was one word answers. She avoided looking at me too. It must have been pretty bad." His shoulders were slumped. He had no idea what to do to help his daughter.
"Honey," Helen said through the door. She waited a long time before the door finally opened.
"Hi mum," she noticed the tension in her daughter's voice, but her face was carefully happy. "Just had a difficult start. I will be fine."
"Hon," she hesitated for a second then said, "you have a letter on the table." Having seen the handwriting, she was sure it was a friend. No adult had written it.
Hermione walked carefully down the stairs and picked up the letter, looking at the return address she quickly opened it. On top was a letter to her parents.
"Dear Mister and Misses Granger,
I must apologize for running out so quickly but I had to make it home before I got into trouble. I hope that Hermione is all better after her ordeal. If I get the way things are supposed to go, I would guess you have involved the law. You did mention it. Here is my official statement on what happened.
Harry then wrote in excruciating detail everything he had seen about the man, accurately describing him clear down to the mole on his left cheek. Then he described the van and the Shakies Snacks sign painted on it.
In minutes the Grangers were in their car bringing the inspector the letter. Glen hadn't said anything to anyone, but he had read that the body of a girl had been found yesterday within a dozen blocks of the old school. This was a fact he would not mention to the ladies in this life.
Unnoticed, Hermione was in the back seat reading a second letter that had been in the envelope.
Dear Hermione,
I hope I got the spelling right. Names are difficult since they are hard to look up which way they are spelled for a specific person. I was glad to meet you and it makes me happy that you are safely home.
When we talked you told me things I needed and it makes it easier to deal with my problems. I don't think it will be easy to get another stamp or envelope so I probably can't write often. I hope my other information can help get the bad guys. I didn't see an arrest in the paper so I thought they may still be around somewhere. I urge you to keep yourself safe and not be away from a responsible adult until this culprit can be apprehended.
When I get older and can get around better I hope to see you. I already miss you more than I thought possible, so send me warm thoughts of friendship and I will send my warmest and more caring thoughts as well. This can march us through the days when we need someone. Remember me when you can. I will always remember you as my first friend.

Harry Potter

The next day at #4 Privet Drive, Petunia Dursley opened the door. There in the doorway was a man with his inspector's badge out. She glanced at it before putting on an ingratiating smile.
"Inspector, what can we do for you?" Her voice dripped with fake sugar.
"I am looking for a lad, Harry Potter. Does he live here?"
"What did the boy do?" Her voice made it clear that she thought nothing was past him. "Do you need him?"
"Yes, I need him to come to the office for questioning."
"Won't you come in for tea while I will get the boy?"
"I believe time is short. You are Mrs. Potter?" He asked.
"No! I am Petunia Dursley. Harry is my nephew," her voice grated on the officer's nerves.
"Well, may I see the lad?"
"Yes, I will get him." She kept it short, glancing at the drive thankful that he had come in a plain car.
The inspector watched carefully as the lad was fetched from under the staircase in what he expected to be some sort of boy's fort. His face showed surprise for a second when he noticed that she pulled a sweatshirt and old trainers out of the same cupboard and he put them on without socks.
Soon the small boy was shoved outside to the inspector.
"Don't give the inspector any trouble." Was all she said. The seasoned law officer frowned as he took in the obviously second hand clothes that fit very poorly and trainers that should have been binned several seasons ago.
"You are Harry Potter, correct?"
"Yes, inspector Milton," Harry said quietly after reading the man's badge. "Is this about the fugitive that has been preying on girls in the region, sir?" He was not expecting such a lead in from what appeared to be a six-year-old.
"Yes, son, it is. We can talk about it once we get to my office." He looked again at the unkempt boy who was looking out the window with interest and who spoke again without moving. "So you can take notes. You evidently don't have anyone in your hands yet. I guess you…" he paused for a second and the inspector took the chance at a red light to look closely at the boy again. He stared into green eyes that had an intensity he had never seen before as the boy spoke again, this time sounding more his age.
"Is Hermione going to be there?" the hope in his tone was so obvious that he laughed.
"Yes, the Grangers mentioned that they didn't get a chance to finish their discussion with you, so I had them brought in as well." There was no embarrassment in the boy's face.
When they entered the office, the Grangers were already there. Harry walked in behind the inspector when suddenly a bushy haired missile struck him and wrapped him in a tear squeezing hug. He allowed it and whispered in her ear, "how is my princess?"
"I am great now. How are you?"
"Never better," he answered, his voice thick with emotion from the first hug he remembered receiving, ignoring the searing pain of his ribs for a moment.
Glen Granger and the inspector both watched with eagle eyes the interchange between the children. They acted like old playmates, not newly met acquaintances.
The next hour was spent going over everything they knew about the attempted abduction. The inspector was astounded at the detailed descriptions and calm almost professional manner from both children as they answered his questions. They held hands throughout the questioning and no one bothered them about it. They didn't look directly at one another, as if trying to keep a story straight. When asked about the letter Harry wrote he quoted the entire thing verbatim. Then he added some conjecture that wasn't in the letter as did Hermione.
One thing did not add up, however, to the inspector.
"Harry, where do you go to school?"
"St. Brutus, sir," was the short answer. But the inspector had carefully checked every school's enrollment within an hour of Privet Drive and Harry Potter was not enrolled in any of them.
The name was found in one library writing contest from a few months ago. He had won first prize, a gift certificate to a local bookstore. After reading the paper the boy had written, the inspector noted that he was obviously very intelligent.
"How old are you?"
"Eight sir, until the end of July."
"Why do you live with your aunt?"
"My parents were killed in a car crash when I was less than two. Aunt Petunia graciously has taken me in and fed and cared for me. Uncle Vernon has graciously made room in his home for someone who is no blood kin of his and I appreciate the effort and expense the Dursleys undergo on my behalf."
"Why aren't you attending the local school?"
"I have a history of aberrant social behavior. My anger management and self control skills are too lacking to be integrated with typical children. I need a firmer and more rigid environment to ensure I can conform to basic societal norms." He smiled for a second before adding, "it means I am a problem child."
The rest of the interview went well and the inspector was about to dismiss them.
"Inspector Milton? Could I have a word?" Glen Granger looked at his wife who nodded. Neither noticed the worried look Harry gave them and when Hermione's saw Harry's face she echoed his worry unknowingly.
They walked away from the children and spoke in low tones. Hermione looked back at Harry who had suddenly become and tense as a piano string, watching the men talk.
"Did you notice, inspector, that everything Harry said about his home life seemed to come straight from a script. There was no inflection, warmth, cold, nothing. He wears clothes that obviously are intended for someone else. He calls his family Aunt and Uncle with less compassion than someone would their pet rock. No inflection at all. What drives a boy to that kind of control? Then spouting all that nonsense about himself being an out of control hotheaded hooligan. Absolute rubbish. Inspector, what is going on here?"
"I don't know Mister Granger, but I noticed many of the warning signs that you did. There is one thing I want you to do before you leave, then I will take care of the situation. You're planning to thank him again and perhaps give him some reward?"
"Naturally, he saved my girl's life."
"Remember, when you thank him to place a hand firmly on his shoulder where I can see both of you. I need to see his reaction. Now smile and laugh about that idiot standing in the corner that looks like he is going to a costume party." They both looked at the old man in what appeared to be some sort of sixteenth century garb, chuckling loudly.
Glen walked over to Harry and watched as the boy stood as if ready for combat.
"Harry," he said jovially, dropping his hand on one shoulder, "young man you have done our family and especially Hermione, the greatest service one person can do for another. You have saved her. For that I want to give you this," he handed Harry an expensive penknife with 'Harry Potter' engraved on it. "I also want you to know if you ever need anything, the Granger family will always be ready to help. Even if you just want a friend to speak to, we are all of us wanting to listen." He looked over at his wife and daughter, seeing their enthusiastic nods. "Thanks again Harry."
The inspector watched and the instant Mister Granger's hand came near Harry, he froze. The boy's voice held steady and he said all the polite things, but his hands were clenched into white knuckled fists. This would definitely require further investigation.
"Anytime, Mister Granger," Harry replied. "Hermione deserves the best. I hope she is safe now, did you pull her from that school? She would be likely better suited to a gifted program in a few years I would think as well as some academic social club like chess or debate."
"Well, we are considering that in the future. You seem to take a lot of interest in someone you have just met young man."
Harry smiled to himself, he had taken a great interest, that was true. "Yes sir, I do. She is special in all of the best possible definitions of the word. I mean I love that she is so smart and knows so many things, it makes it great to talk to her. That and the fact that she cares about doing the right thing and people too, she is just too great, really." The boy's calm assurance about his statement was almost comical to the older man.
Harry went back and sat next to Hermione. She looked at him with obvious affection at his compliments about her.
Suddenly Harry noticed the time and figured he needed to leave. He stood up and held out his hand. "Misses Granger, it has been a pleasure seeing you again. Hermione," he took her hand casually, "I look forward to our next meeting." He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks and dropped a small handmade gift into her hand. "Chin up and have some fun too, princess." This last was quiet enough that Helen barely heard it, then felt almost guilty at the tenderness in this young boy's speech. As a parent she was happy the children weren't older. A life saving hero with impeccable manners, sweet talk, and pretty green eyes was a combination she didn't want to have to deal with as the mother of a slightly lonely daughter.
Hermione held his hand to her face for a second for warmth and simply nodded. They understood each other. They would likely never get another chance to meet, but they would both cherish this friendship until they died. She put on the small necklace made of a piece of petrified wood and some thread. It had a single light blue bead on it. She made a vow to herself to wear it always unless he replaced it.