A/N: I do not own HP or Constantine. I DO own plot, any OOCness, and maybe a character here or there.
Harry Potter was an unusual child. Always had been. Now, at six-years-old, he became worse then unusual. He became a freak. At least, that's what his relatives, Vernon, petunia, and Dudley told him.
When Harry was five, there was an accident. He'd been taking out the garbage when his cousin Dudley had pushed him into the road. Right into the path of a speeding vehicle. Harry had died that day, for an entire three minutes, until the distraught driver had managed to revive him. Those three minutes, though, had lasted an eternity to the little boy.
Now, Harry could see things no one else could. Could understand things no six-year-old should be able to understand. Could do things people couldn't even dream of. His relatives called him a Freak. His teachers called him a prodigy. He called himself Harry, just Harry.
Now, though, he was alone in the slums of London. His oh-so loving relatives had dropped him off with nothing but the clothes on his back. They hoped he'd die there, but Harry had always been stubborn to a point, and cunning to another.
He was careful. He hid from the people who weren't entirely human. There were ones with wings, and others with half-melted, rotten looking faces or bodies. He preferred those ones. The ones with wings tended to just stay out of the chaos. The other ones made sure they were the cause of the chaos. He thought they were more honest. Oh, they lied, Lord knows they did, but they didn't lie about their natures. That's what Harry liked about them.
He'd managed to wrangle a room out of an old woman in exchange for taking care of her many cats and plants. It was hard work, but the cats liked him and started to take their 'business' outside. He never left the building, unless the old lady needed something picked up or taken out. At the moment, he was doing just that, picking up the old ladies mail.
Harry had always been a curious child, even though he was beaten for asking questions when he was at his relatives. So, when he noticed a thick trail of bugs and snakes crawling by, he couldn't resist the pull to see what was going on.
"What's happening?" he called to a snake, which hurriedly changed direction to go to him. He'd discovered he could speak to snakes before he'd been hit by the car. They were always helpful and he liked talking to them.
"Little Speaker," the snake whispered softly, gazing at him. He smiled at it, picking it up and draping it around his shoulders, petting it's smooth, black scales.
"Hello," he hissed back. "What's happening?" The snake looked back at the still thick trail of bugs and creatures.
"Summoned by a Dark One," the snake answered, turning back to the little boy. "They cannot make their bodies, so we make one for them. Dark One needs a body; all creatures close by that are connected to it answer it's call." Harry nodded curiously, before followed the thinning line of insects down an alleyway. As he watched, they formed a large mound, which gained a basic human-like shape, with arms and legs, hands and feet, fingers and toes, and a weird parody of a face. The creature growled lowly, popping it's neck. Harry couldn't resist.
"How do you pop your neck when you don't have any tendons or bones?" He asked, bright green eyes curious. He had needed glasses before the accident, but, miraculously, getting hit in the head with a bumper fixed his eyesight to 20/20. The creature whirled, snarling; the six-year-old merely cocked his head to the side, curious.
"Little human," it growled, stalking towards him. The snake around Harry's neck reared, hissing furiously, making the creature pause.
"You shall not harm the Little Speaker, Dark One!" it hissed angrily; Harry giggled at the look of shock on the creatures 'face'. It shuffled closer, peering down at Harry. It crouched in front of him, and lifted one bug-made hand to gently stroke the snakes head. Harry jerked slightly when a bug fell off and onto his neck. He quickly caught it and carefully put it back on the creature's arm, smiling.
"You're falling apart," he told it; the creature stared at him, still petting the snake.
"You are a strange little human," it mused; Harry shrugged.
"I got hit in the head with a car," he told it, shrugging again. "My relatives said it made me a Freak. I don't really care, honestly, what other people think." The creature stared at him curiously, it's mind whirling.
"What's your name, little human?" it asked; Harry beamed at it.
"My name's Harry. What's yours?" the creature hesitated, then answered.
"My name is Philantaporastophes." Harry stared at him for a few seconds, blinking.
"...I can't say that," he told the creature, then smiled. "So I'll shorten it and call you Phil!" The creatures stared at him, so Harry grabbed it's 'hand' and pulled it after him, beaming. "Come on, Phil! You can come home with me, if you want! You just can't eat the old lady I live with, or any of her cats." Harry paused and looked both ways, before continuing to drag the confused creature down the road and into the apartment he lived in. "Hey, what are you anyways?" the six-year-old asked as they got into the rickety, old elevator.
"I am a-" he said something Harry didn't even try to understand-"Demon." Harry nodded cheerfully.
"Okay, so you're a demon. Neat! Say, do you know any of the people with half-melted faces?" he asked, looking both ways before stepping out of the elevator. "I like them. Much more interesting then the people with wings." The Phil-the-Demon stared down at the human boy, more confused then he'd like to admit.
"They are half breeds," he said slowly as Harry pulled the apartment key from his pocket and unlocked the door. "They are half-demons. The ones with wings are half-Angels." Harry nodded, shooing a cluster of cats away from his feet. There were thirty-seven in all, and three of them were pregnant. They hissed at Phil, until Harry scolded them.
"You guys leave my friend alone, okay?" he said, frowning. "Just 'cause he's a demon don't mean you should be rude to him." The cats fell silent, staring at the demon warily, but let him in with little fuss.
"Ms. Julie!" The six-year-old shouted, closing the door behind his new friend. "I brought a friend over! I hope you don't mind!" There was a deep, hacking cough from the other room, before a small, mummified-like old woman shuffled into the room. Her face was nothing but wrinkles and veins, and her skin hung off her bones. She peered at them with milky blue eyes and a dentured smile.
"Hello, Harry dear," she crooned in a hoarse, wavery voice. Harry let go of Phil's hand and went over to her, hugging her around the waist. She lifted thin, shaky hands and ran them gently through his thick black hair, smiling down at him with half-blind eyes.
"I brought a friend," the six-year-old repeated; Julie nodded her wizened head vaguely, still staring down at him with those milky-eyes. "His name is Phil. Can he stay here for a while?" He asked, his large, bright green eyes pleading. Julie chuckled hoarsely and nodded, petting his hair gently.
"Of course, Harry dear. Your judge of character is phenomenal," she gave a wave in Phil's general area, smiling some more. "Any friend of Harry's is welcome here, Phil dear." she then turned and shuffled back into her bedroom, humming croakily as several cats meowed and wandered around at her feet. Harry, beaming, turned to his friend, ran over to him, and grabbed the demons hand once more, dragging him into the living room.
"Phil?" the six-year-old started, sitting down on the floor across from the demon.
"Yes, little Human?" The demon asked curiously. So far, the boy had been proven an intriguing creature, as well as an intelligent one.
"Tell me about Hell," Harry pleaded, curious. And so, the demon obliged, going into great detail about the tortures and punishments dealt in the wastelands of Hell. Harry was fascinated. Oh, he knew he never, ever wanted to go there, but still, it was the concept that intrigued him.
The demon then went on to tell the six-year-old about the battle between Lucifer and God, again in great detail. Apparently, he had been there, and had fought alongside Lucifer's armies. He described Heaven as best as he could, but how could one explain something of such beauty?
"I don't really remember what happened to me when I died," Harry admitted a little sadly, wondering if he'd seen Heaven and didn't even know it. The demon looked at him strangely. "My cousin never liked me, neither did my aunt or uncle. One day, I was taking out the trash, and my cousin pushed me in front of a car. That's how I got this," he dragged a finger over the ragged tear-like scar, over-lapping his old lightning-bolt one, making it appear as if the old one ad never been there. The car-made scar crossed his right eye and went down his cheek, ending at his chin.
"Some who die and are revived, never even know they died," the demon told him calmly, secretly planning many tortures for the little Humans relatives. "What were their names?" Harry smiled at him.
"I'm six. Not stupid," he deadpanned, grinning. "But I'm going to tell you anyways. Their names are Vernon Dursley, Petunia Dursley-nee-Evens, and Dudley Dursley." The demon smirked slightly, memorizing the names for later. He's send a few... Friends to have a words with the Dursleys. Harry giggled at his expression. "I like you, Phil. Tell me more about the Battle?" he pleaded, and so Phil continued his story-telling.
Harry was extremely tired by the end, and soon found himself asleep, the snake that had been around his neck was joined by others as Phil reluctantly let go of his form. He had to return to Hell and give a Report to Lucifer. The cats were happy, though. After all, the bugs were everywhere, and just sooooo tasty...
A/N: Yay!! The prologue is done, now. Review, for be they flames or congrats, I shall continue... Unless I get writers block. Then, I'll just be pissed. Lolz!! XP