I do not own the Legend of Zelda series or the Harry Potter series. Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo, and Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just happen to be fooling around in their universes.

This is a repost. The story has been edited to deal with some language choices.

~Prologue ~

It was a sunny day at number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. In the backyard, the smallest occupant of the house was currently re-weeding the garden. He was doing this because he apparently hadn't done a good enough job the first time around. His hands were sore from pulling out the nettles under the rosebushes. The gloves he wore were worn, and the nettle leaves burned his hands through the seams. His Aunt Petunia had given them to him and he was grateful for that at least. Normally, he would have to do without.

'Stupid nettles, always coming back,' the boy thought as he pulled another stem out of the flowerbed. Thankfully this one had a rather big root attached to it. He dumped it on the pile next to him.

He hissed as a nettle burned him. 'It's like the couch grass,' he thought before he wiped his forehead on his too-long sleeve, 'and the dandelions.' The boy smiled slightly; he liked the dandelions. The flower was yellow and when he worked with them his hands got these weird spots, both brown and yellow. He thought the clocks were nice though.

Aunt Petunia had gone haywire when he blew on the clocks a few years ago, spreading seeds all around the garden. It had been worth it though; a smile spread over his face as he thought about it.

"Aren't you done yet," the shrill voice of his Aunt Petunia cut through the soft buzzing of insects.

The boy quickly wiped the smile off his face. It wouldn't do to show his aunt that he enjoyed himself. "Almost, Aunt Petunia," he answered.

"Well, you better get a move on or there won't be any supper for you," she said.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," the boy replied.

Not that he would be getting much supper anyway since they usually fed him the table scraps. The family he lived with were supposedly his mother's relatives. Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister, but she hated talking about her. And they, well, they didn't feed him all that much. His Uncle, Vernon, was a big man while his Aunt Petunia was a willowy woman. They looked like he ate her food as well as his own. They had a child his cousin Dudley, who was a very big boy. Vernon and Dudley ate like pigs so there was normally not that much left when they were done.

He wished there was somewhere else he could go, somewhere with no Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon or Cousin Dudley… or annoying nettles that just would not disappear. He pulled the last nettle out of the flowerbed. It wasn't the first time he had wished to be somewhere else. He had often dreamed that some unknown relative would come and take him away from this place… but it never happened.

The boy took off his gloves and inspected the small burns that the nettles had left on his hands. They hurt but knowing his Aunt, he wouldn't be getting any treatment for them.

He breathed in looking around the garden. He loved working in the garden; it was soothing. The garden was his favourite part of the house. It smelled so nice and fresh. Not like when he had to work with bleach. He shuddered. He hated bleach.

…

Later that night, the boy was lying in his cupboard. He slept in the cupboard under the stairs in the house despite there being an unused bedroom on the second floor but that was reserved for his cousin's broken toys. He was still hungry from the meagre meal he had been given that evening. Laying there he once again hoped for a different life.

And this time…

Something would happen…