Green Eyes, Black Sand

Abby Ebon

Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Aladdin.

Note; … the Reader Reward goal was met by Sabishii Kage Tenchi; the story "Better Then Bedfellows" has since been writ. Also, it may interest you to know I broke down and wrote "Mistakes of Animagus Proportions", Harry-is-Chihuahua also, like this story, for LynnGryphon.


A Carpet That Lifts You Off Your Feet


Harry knew of only two ways to wake; quickly, expecting physical harm for a delay, or, more rarely; slowly drifting between sleep and wakefulness, knowing that your eyes are closed and it is not reality you see, yet you linger between the two as if unable to choose. It was with a painful lurch of his heart, as if someone had reached into his chest and was twisting painfully, that Harry woke, sharply inhaling.

That had been his mistake, hacking and choking on the dust and sand, Harry found himself as prone and helpless as he had been asleep – only now, he was awake. Awake, and alone – kidnapped, stolen away. It was a terrifying prospect.

He did not know the language, the customs, or even what day it was.

Harry stumbled to his feet, and out of the corner of the two buildings that had been sheltering him. All around him were people, noisily chattering together and browsing the stalls that stood at odd angles in the market, no one had taken notice of him. He learned against the wall, his hand against rough sandstone.

Relief swelled up in his chest releasing the tight tension there. Harry had feared he'd up somewhere stranger then here.

"Thief!" Harry couldn't help jumping a little at the shriek, it's a little brown monkey the market owner points to, chattering silent insults as it looks behind in contempt at the stirring throng; mockingly, Harry sees it's tongue peek out, out from beneath the market stalls a small body hurls toward freedom – toward him.

They collide in a tangle of limbs, the monkey recovers more swiftly, climbing up Harry's chest and chattering angrily at him, face-to-face.

"Sorry, sorry!" Harry says, waving a hand to shoo it away, though he knows better not to touch it, tame as it acts – it isn't some pet. It clutches at its bundle of prized grapes, and guards them with a hiss from Harry's flinging hand.

Harry realizes too late his mistake, and Harry must be sun-sick or sand-sick because he swears he hears a small "uh-oh" – people might not go after a monkey-thief, but a boy-thief is fair game. Harry stumbles to his feet, hands guarding rising in front of him, so they see he hasn't anything to hide.

"It's not what you think, he's not mine!" Harry takes a step back into the alley that had sheltered him, away from the glare of the sun and people alike. A small child-like hand tugs on his shirt, as if to lead him away.

A dark chuckle bubbles out of the throng of market sellers and goers, a man steps forward, hands raised mockingly in front of him like Harry. His hands are clenched into fists. Harry needs no words to sense that this man wants to fight.

Harry takes a step back, the man a step forward, and the little hand twists on his other shoulder – Harry glances in that direction and sees hope. Two shops built closely together, but not together, between them is a gap just wide enough for Harry to pass. He hopes, left with no other choice, Harry takes the chance.

It's a struggle to get air between walls built of sand and made stone hard; it's hot and the sand burns down his through as he breaths in small breaths – he feels the building urge for more air, but stubbornly holds it in, breathing shallowly though nose and mouth.

Behind him is a outcry, then grunting pleas for help, senseless struggling of a captive between the walls; Harry doesn't look back to see who had been fool enough to follow him through the gap, he's only got eyes for the promise of air and freedom of movement ahead.

With a cough he can't help any longer, Harry gives himself away as he reaches freedom – the monkey kindly pats him on the back like saying "not bad". It offers a grape in reward; Harry looks about before he takes it, wary now.

The monkey rolls his eyes heavenward; Harry stung that a monkey can make him feel cowardly, takes the grape – he gets a thumb up from the monkey and if he imagines the word "all-right!" he ignores it with a shiver of unease.

The monkey eats, well, like a monkey, then offers another grape with a small prompting of "more?"; Harry shakes his head, then by the critical brown eyes of his the monkey on his shoulder, he's looked over, then given a raised eyebrow of doubt, to question Harry's needing or not needing to be fed. It offers again, and Harry takes it, chewing with obvious slowness.

A shadow passes the wedge of the building, and Harry looks to see he's being eyed by a burly man in an official looking clothing; he's certainly more intimidating looking then anyone at the market.

He narrows his eyes, not on Harry in his black cloak and hood – but on the monkey.

"I know that monkey." The man mutters loudly enough for Harry to hear, and the little thief Harry's befriended looks up at the intruder with perked ears.

"Abu!" It's a howling snarl, and the man strides forward with intent. Abu the monkey squeaks, and chatters at Harry too quickly for Harry to hear words that might not be there. The meaning is all the same clear; help, get me away from that freak!

Harry, with a bow that halts the approaching brute in his tracks, quickly rises and spins about finding his way by Abu's hints (a tug on cloth "there, yes", or franticly on his hair "no, not there, not there!", and once a quick pinch "your going to get me killed!") without Abu to guide the way, Harry would have been resoundingly lost.

Still he finds himself in abandoned building, the sand-stone falling away to reveal a wooden frame, and no way out in sight. Abu scrambles down his back and onto the carpet on the floor, he tugs on it, until little words like "come on!" and "wake up" gibber out, Harry feels ridiculous as he kneels to look under the carpet, thinking maybe there is a escape-trap he has to trigger.

His hand on the carpet is suddenly moved as if with a life of its own, Harry is knocked on his ass for being unbalanced (by a carpet!) and made breathless as the carpet shivers and rises into the air; it's attention seems to somehow focus on Abu – and if Harry is mad for hearing words out a monkey's mouth ("home" Abu has just demanded of the flying carpet), at least he's not alone.

The carpet, Harry blinks and rubs his eyes but still sees that the carpet has just nodded – with its tassels.

Abu turns to him with a grin, and Harry can only see his teeth. It's uncertain enough that Harry's trusted Abu this much (might be sun-sickness, this trust) – but this? Abu tugs on Harry's cloak as the carpet tassel closest to Harry waves, in a way that seems to invite Harry to sit down on the carpet and take a flight.

"Come on, no time" Abu says, and sure enough he's right, Harry peers out around a wooden frame of the upper floor window and sees brutes just like the one who knew Abu's name scouring around. 'All for a monkey?' Harry shakes his head, and knows that if he's sun-sick, at least everyone else is too: though that it isn't really a comfort.

With one last tug on his cloak, Harry follows, sitting down cross-legged on the carpet, Abu smugly seated in his lap. The magical carpet raises smoothly, hovering long enough for the milling men down below to take notice – there is a cry, the tassels all give a wiggle, and Harry is zooming out the window on a magic carpet.

Harry is a wizard, yes, but he never expected something like this, witches on flying brooms seem tamer and more normal then this – it feels wild and magical; below him the sand stretches on forever after the city ends. Harry looks down at him, and feels uneasy and heart sick for home, but he knows he has no home – will never again know 'home', he has only to close his eyes to see his world consumed by the blistering sun; the same sun that shines down on him now.

Abu pats his thigh with a "aw" cooed up at him, Harry brushes his eyes and finds his tears. If the monkey thinks he's scared of heights, and not mourning a world, it's just as well.

The magical carpet heads for the palace while Abu is distracted by Harry, snuggling against him and chattering about what Harry thinks is Abu's first meeting with the magical carpet. Harry glances at the palace grounds, and the carpet's focus is upon him again, the tassel seems to become a finger, a knot of strands raising while the rest curl beneath, the 'finger' shakes "no, no".

Harry says not a word, fingers combing though Abu's fur so sooth his heart and Abu.

"Carpet – here carpet, here boy!" A man in blue calls from below, and Abu tenses up, tugging on a tassel and hissing "no, no, not here!", but it's no use – the magical carpet lands at the feet of the man in blue- and Abu takes off for the nearest tree.

"Genie, you found him?" A young man with only a few more years then Harry steps toward them, brown hair and brown eyes and red fez purple vest lined in gold and billowing white pants – he looks like a prince, if you were to ignore the bare feet – he eyes Harry up and down. "Who's this?"

"Actually, Al – he's who found Abu, I believe?" Harry mutely nods. The man isn't wearing blue, he is blue and all but bald but for the thatch of hair on his chin and the top-knot at his head – gold cuffs on his upper arms below the wrists, he's wearing purple pants with a red sash and pointy shoes.

"Thanks." Al smile is honestly charming, and then glances to Genie who points to the tree Abu ran up.

"Abu, come on down – please? I'm sorry; you aren't just a pet I taught tricks, that Sultan was wrong – he's gone now, he's not coming back, I promise!" Al coaxed the leaves above rustled and fell into his hair like an insult.

"Al," Genie hissed "don't make promises you can't keep!" Al glared, and Genie shrunk back hands raised for peace.

"She say sorry, or no stay!" Abu chattered back at Al, a parrot joined him in the tree, and spoke.

"Ah, buddy, don't be like that! I'll give you a cracker." The parrot lured, Abu was clearly unimpressed.

"Iago, you're not helping!" Al growled, Iago fluttered his wings in a shrug.

"I tried; he clearly can't be reasoned with, perhaps a bribe?" Iago got no response, save Abu's mutter of "oh brother"; Al ignored Iago and pointed a finger upward to Abu.

"Don't make me come up there." Abu raised a brow, as if to ask "can you?". Al grit his teeth and looked about ready to follow through and do something foolish, when a woman who was clearly a royal, gold adorned her ears and neck and a lapis lazuli stone was inlayed in a cloth band about her head, her pants and top were blue silk.

"Aladdin, stop." Her soft voice caused Al to cease at once with a sheepish, "Jasmine."

When she continued, she looked to Abu alone.

"I'm sorry Abu, you aren't a pet – you are our friend. It was wrong to treat you like that." Abu drops to Aladdin's shoulder, and where the he's itched under his chin by a smiling Aladdin; it's charming and simple companionship, only Harry sees the disdain she hides with a smile and lowered eyes.

"Cheep entertainment gets paid, princess." Iago warns, and Harry thinks he isn't alone in noticing after all.

Iago flies down to land at Harry's shoulder, peering at him with a bird's eye view.

"Polly wants a cracker?" Harry offers for a greeting, and Iago laughs. Genie looks to Harry wide eyed, mouth unclosing.

"Look who the monkey dragged in! Kid's from the future Genie – and he's Harry Potter too." Iago preens; with his beak he takes aside Harry's fringe that hides his lightening bolt scar. Their eyes are uncomprehending, all save blue Genie.

"You shouldn't be here." Genie, Harry realizes, is a jinn – a wish granting, lamb rubbing jinn.

"There is no where else for him to be." It isn't any Genie, Aladdin or Jasmine, Abu,or Iago (or flying Carpet) that speaks – no, it's Phasir, with Severus Snape at his side.


Note; …-giggles- so the next chapter will be chaos, literally, Chaos.