Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters created by J. K. Rowling or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, nor do I own rights to any adaptation of the works of the latter. In this case I am referring to "Sherlock" the brilliant BBC series. This story is purely for enjoyment, I promise you I am not making any money off this.

Warning: Rating this a T for now, rating may go up as the story progresses. This story does contain violence toward children, but it' a Harry Potter story, so you kind of expect that going in.

Please read and enjoy, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome, thank you.


It was a very hot August afternoon on Privet Drive. All the residents were in doors talking advantage of air conditioning and cool drinks, all but one. Harry Potter, a very small four year old boy was outside in the garden. His aunt had ordered him to weed the back garden. She had noticed the other day while spying on Number 2's garden that she had had a patch of wilting marigolds and her geraniums were ghastly.

So naturally Petunia needed to make sure her garden was perfect and the envy of all. But she soon discovered it was terribly uncomfortable trying to garden during a record heat wave was, thus she sent out her four year old nephew with nothing but a hand spade and trowel to weed, water and tidy the entire back garden, he was not allowed to rest or come back inside until the job was finished to his aunts satisfaction, all the while she was in the living room telling her husband all the gossip she had gotten about the new family on the street, the Reynolds, from America, who were moving in that very day.

Harry had been at his task for over four hours and was utterly exhausted and starting to get rather sun burned when his uncle came outside. Harry cringed, he knew that Vernon Dursley had been drinking, and he knew far too well what happened when her drank.

"What are you doing there, you Freak!"


That afternoon the Reynolds moved into number 7 Privet Drive. It was an incredibly boring house, that looked just like every other incredibly boring house on the astoundingly boring street. Jason Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds eleven years old son, was staying out of his parents way and playing with his new video recorder his grandmother gave him before they moved to England.

This camera was the method with which he first saw the little black haired boy working in a back garden. It struck Jason that he was a very young boy to be weeding, and on such a hot day. He decided to film him for a bit, little kids often did funny things. Maybe he wasn't gardening, but playing with something. Jason was about to call out to the boy when a very fat man waddled out of the house.

"What are you doing there, you Freak!" the fat man shouted.

"Weeding the garden, Uncle Vernon." he said quietly.

"Why aren't you done yet!" he strode up who had stood up to look at him, and backhanded the boy, knocking him back several feet and causing him to fall hard onto the flowerbed, crushing the petunias and zinnias. "Now look what you've done!" He shouted and raised his fist and delivered another blow.

"Hey, you can't do that." Jason shouted. The Fat Man rounded on him.

"Shut it , you little prat!" the Fat Man shouted and lurched toward Jason, reaching out to grab him. "Give me that camera!" He bellowed. Jason turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could back home. He had to tell his Dad what he saw.