Disclaimer: I don't own Mogwarts or Hiddle Earth. Anything you recognise is not mine.
Author Note: I'm writing this story as something different, something fun and for the hell of it. You don't like crossovers. Well… why are you reading this note? Warning: has distinctive Kyleigh humour… watch out…
These Broken Wings
Chapter One. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
Harry Potter glanced miserably up at his home: 4 Privet Drive. He could feel it already, great waves of depressive air bombarding him from his muggle relatives home. He sighed shrugged his shoulder and stumbled through the door.
Swallowing his pride he grabbed his trunk and trudged as slowly as possible up the driveway. He had sent a message previously telling his relatives the dreaded Dursleys that he would make his own way home. Needless to say they had been most willing to comply with his request: for once.
Harry forced as grim smile on his face trying vainly to make himself feel better. He reminded himself he was here because Dumbledore wanted him to… to be safe. When he left 4 Privet Drive this time he would never darken the doorstep again. He'd have to crack open a bottle of champagne in celebration… Maybe at the wedding.
"I'm home," Harry called from the doorstep and added under his breath. "Welcome to living hell, Harry."
A grunt was all that welcomed him, which was heartening to say the least.
"I'm going upstairs to unpack and sleep," Harry called again.
"Riiiggght," Harry drawled heaving his trunk up one stair at a time. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"Thanks for the help. No problem Harry, glad to be of assistance. Oh but you didn't have to. No Harry we wanted to help you, couldn't have your arms dropping off now could we… yeah right."
Harry didn't know what was wrong with him. He was to say the least in an extremely foul mood and could not shake the feeling of bitterness. It was the Dursleys fault he felt like this. How he hated this house that was never his home; all they had ever given him was hate and never any love. Not one measly little scrap. Aunt Petunia gave Ripper, Marge's man eating dog more consideration than him!
"That's it no fit to eat of the plate of dear princely, four legged Ripper," Harry muttered. "I. Hate. This. Place."
Eventually Harry was on top of the landing he dragged his trunk to the spare bedroom and dropped it clumsily onto the floor. He didn't bother stowing it away neatly. He wouldn't be here long enough to warrant the effort.
He took a flying leap and landed on his bed face down and pummelled the pillows viciously. Before biting his lip and laying down on his side.
Dumbledore was gone, that much had become reality, Dumbledore had been killed for no good reason. And where the great wizard had failed the great Boy-who-lived would prevail. Harry snorted, yeah right! He was just a skinny boy there was very little special about him.
Harry stretched out on the bed and sighed heavily. In moments he was asleep again.
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Raucous laughter woke Harry from his pleasant bleak state of sleepiness. He blinked slowly his glasses were perched precariously on his nose. He reached his hand up and pushed them back to the bridge of his nose and sat up.
Harry's broken alarm clock told him in was eight at night. 'Brilliant,' Harry thought, 'Missed dinner again.'
Due to the horrendous laughter Harry could tell the Dursleys were still awake. Well at least Dudley was. So he safely concluded it was not safe to go foraging for food in the kitchen.
Harry took off his glasses and lay back down on his lumpy bed and curled into a ball. How he wished that he could have stayed with Ron all summer and conveniently forget that he had any relatives at all. They wouldn't miss him and he would not miss them. It was a win-win situation if not for the blood that ran in dratted Aunt Petunia's skinny, no good veins.
He rolled over again and closed his eyes tightly. Nope no good. He just could not sleep. Not tonight.
With a heaving sigh Harry crept out under the guise of visiting the loo. He however slipped through the door beside it deciding that he wouldn't mind washing his face. He felt awfully hot and stuffy insides his room. And his teeth felt like they were growing fur thanks to the lack of brushing.
At first Harry ignored the image in the mirror that was him. And brushed his teeth with downcast eyes. However by the time he spat the remaining toothpaste out he did look up and he gave a strangled cry…
His hair had magically grown again. And this time he wasn't angry… well he was angry but not over his hair. He touched the crown of his head and was surprised to find his hair texture had also changed it was silkier and finer.
All Harry could do was stare in befuddlement in his eyes that reflected in the mirror. What was happening to him? In the ended he opted for the line of I'm imagining this and it'll be gone in the morning.
Abandoning any ideas of a cool shower Harry leapt from the room slammed the door shut.
"Keep it down boy!" Mr. Dursley screamed from downstairs.
Harry ignored him. He raced along the landing and back into his room and slammed that door behind him.
"I'M WARNING YOU BOY, ONE MORE PEEP AND I'LL…"
Covering his hand over his mouth and gripping his new found and somewhat
lengthened hair. Being a wizard perhaps Harry should have expected the shock… but this was a little too weird and he was still sleepy.
Harry skidded down onto the floor. He had only been at the Dursleys' a few short hours and he was already going insane.
"Go away," Harry snapped into thin air. "There's no one hear by that name."
The voice continued. 'Elerossë!'
"I told you. Wrong number. Go away," Harry yelled irritably all of a sudden aware of his uncle's heavy footsteps coming his away.
The door wrenched open revealing the ugly puce coloured face of Vernon Dursley. "What in the blazes is going on in here?" Vernon growled so that his chins wobbled dangerously.
Harry glanced up wide eyed at his uncle.
"Stop that now this instant," Vernon hissed striding into the room quickly his fist twitching ominously.
Harry was confused but also happy at the same time. His uncle apparently could also hear the voice. So in all likely hood wasn't as crazy as he originally thought.
"Go away!" Harry and Vernon yelled at the same time. Then stunned looked at each other.
Vernon confused, angry and murderous advanced upon Harry. Harry tried to scramble away from harms away but his uncle's beefy fist collected his jaw anyhow.
Harry's neck snapped to the side as he was thrust onto the floor by the mere force of his uncle's meaty fist. Tears gathering in his eyes Harry stood only to find Vernon's large strong hands firmly wrapped around his neck. Choking Harry fought which he was a fairly uneven match.
Vernon however suddenly stopped dropping Harry unceremoniously in a heap on the floor and fled the room. He only once looked over his shoulder at something behind Harry and then locked he door loudly behind him.
Harry too stunned by his near death experience to think quickly stared for a moment at his uncle confused by his strange behaviour. Then very slowly he turned his head to see what Vernon was staring at.
A single silvery cloud which eerily reminded Harry of the Patronus light.
'Elerossë! Elerossë! Elerossë!'
The voice seemed to be coming from inside the cloud. 'Good grief,' Harry thought as he jumped nimbly onto his feet and ran to the door and started banging loudly and screaming for his uncle to let him out. It was undignified behaviour yes; but Harry was not going anywhere near the freaky cloud even though it was highly likely a new product from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.
The cloud expanded and Harry found gathering sufficient breathable air in his lungs difficult. He stared to choke and wheeze shaking his head from side to side as if the movement could give him the gift of oxygen.
The last thing Harry could recall was the cloud baring down on him and the voice still calling.
'Elerossë! Elerossë! Elerossë!'