Know when you let random plot bunnies run and frolic? So one of those moments. Well...ok the entire premise is Iris Potter of Red Mage fame being tagged to save canon Harry from the Dursleys and well... Iris the fuck out of his situation because sweat merciless Morrigan does that woman not care about propriety. Anyway, yeah, I know, plot bunny, review if you want, I understand if you don't.
Little Whinging, Surrey, London Suburbs, July 31 1987
The rain fell and fell, coming down down down, and in response the perfectly normal citizens of the perfectly normal neighborhood of Surrey holed up in their perfectly normal cookie cutter homes to wait out the storm.
One figure was not normal, it did not hurry, it did not rush to hide, it was actually rather reluctant to face the truth of its current situation as it trudged on through the sloshing rain.
The truth of the matter was this figure was very far away from home. In fact she was incredibly far from anything that made sense to her, and this revelation only made her angrier as she dwelled on her assigned duty.
She hadn't wanted to be here, this reality, this...existence, was something she had never wanted to experience. Unfortunately life had a habit of putting the screws to what you wanted out of it, especially when your last name was Potter.
Approaching Number 4 Privet Drive the figure slammed her clenched fist into the door thrice before coming to a parade rest, the summer rains running down her lithe figure as she raged inside.
The door clicked open and a tiny child looked up at her in alarm, his emerald green eyes unfocused through his poorly, and likely unprofessionally, prescribed glasses. "Ma'am are you ok!?" Before she could reply a whale of a boy slammed into the child sending him into the wall, looking her up and down he sneered before crossing his arms in disdain.
"Ain't got any candy on ya do ya?" The woman stared at the boy in utter disgust, her wine red hair whipping in the wind as her gaze hardened and with a flick of her hand she sent him flying through the hall and into the kitchen to slam into the sink cupboard. Entering the house the woman slammed the door behind her and near absently cast a drying charm upon herself.
At the rather loud crash of the fat whale boy coming to an abrupt stop a horse-like woman rushed into the room and froze instantly when she took in the intruder's appearence.
And, really, why shouldn't she panic a bit?
Cream white skin, voluptuous curves, wine red hair, emerald green eyes, it was almost like she were staring at-
"Lily!" The woman grinned at Petunia's hissed out declaration, and could only laugh in turn.
"Ha! Nah, you aren't nearly so lucky I'm afraid. My name's Iris Black, and you're holding my godson against my wishes."
Glancing over to the seven year old in question Iris raised a single hand to his cowering form while smiling as kindly as she could manage, "Come here love. I won't hurt you, I promise on our Families Blood."
Harry stared at her for several seconds, obviously not believing her, but after a few moments he relented, probably figuring what the hell did he have to lose, and tentatively approached her.
Iris turned back to Petunia and a pained, nearly tortured expression passed her features as she glanced away, "You could have made him family. You could have spited the magical world by making him a Dursley. Instead you shunned your little sister's son...you disgust me you horrific bitch...you bloody freak."
Spinning on her heel she grabbed Harry's hand and marched to the threshold of the tiny cookie cutter house, Iris grinned down at the scared child a moment as she pulled him close while whispering kind words to the confused youth.
"Don't worry love, I'll take care of you," as she apparated the pair from 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter never saw the fireball leave his new caretakers hand as it slammed into the sofa in the center of the Dursley living room. Nor did he see it consume the house and its occupants.
Plausible deniability was always great like that.
Borough of Islington, London, 12 Grimmauld Place
Harry was so lost he didn't even know where to begin trying to decipher it all. One minute he was preparing breakfast for his family, the next he was grabbed by a woman who was obviously not normal and taken to points undisclosed via a manner that should never be touched again. Good god, who would invent teleportation that required you to feel like you were squeezed through a straw? Really?!
"What. Is. Going. On." Harry finally seethed out, ignoring the fact that he felt like throwing up on the pretty ladies shoes he shook his head and tried to keep focus on what was before him.
She only sighed in return, "Let's just say Death has a sense of humor. Let's pretend you actually understand half of what I'm talking about and move on from there. I'm the Master of Death, I am you from another reality, I am tasked with protecting you from...bloody fucking EVERYTHING while also teaching you how to be a proper Pure-Blood heir. It's my job to make you take this world on like a boss and be something that the Pure's could never hope to handle. I'm here to make you...more"
The woman seethed a moment before snickering and extending her hand towards Harry who gingerly accepted the offered appendage.
"All that being said, I'm your new magical guardian, born one Iris Dorea Potter, now currently under the guise of Iris Black, and you my dear boy are my heir Harry James Potter. Ya know what that means boyo?"
Harry could only shake his head in confusion as the woman grinned broadly in return.
"I solemnly swear we're up to no good!"
Plot bunny, please review!