Title: Opacre

Author: Shades

Rating: PG – 13 with maybe some R

Summary:  Harry Potter had no friends until Hogwarts…or so he thought.  Darkness engulfs Harry at age 5…but not evil.  This is the past, and of a secret Harry held close without knowing it…SLASH

Disclaimers: Do I need to tell you that I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters? I do? Well, it belongs to J.K. Rowling, a wonderful author.  I only own Lest Opacre, his family, and anything related to him.  The rest belong to her.

Author's Notes: This will be slash.  Between two boys.  Not the shagging kind, all sex but feeling.  Harry will be 10 when feelings of that sort come around, but nothing before that.  NO NO NO! No pedophile!!  No shagging in this story!  Clear? No flames against that, OK?  Flames against plot maybe but none of pedophile because I don't endorse that, constructive criticism and reviews welcome.


                                                                             Chapter 1


                "STAY RIGHT THERE!!!"

                Vernon Dursley, a man of middle age, fat, mustache and clearly disgusted with something, yelled at a small boy with messy black hair.  Trembling, the boy nodded and tried to make himself comfortable on the park bench while his uncle went to his wife, Petunia Dursley, and son, Dudley Dursley.  Petunia was as skinny as a pole, dirty blond hair and a long neck while her fat son was double the size of his mother and father combined.  The smirking family went to the park zoo and left the five-year-old alone on the bench.

                Sighing unhappily, Harry Potter tugged his cousin's old clothes closer together to warm up.  It was six-o-clock on July 31 and the weather reflected his melancholy.  Dark and dreary, thick, gray clouds rolled overhead and promised a nice rainfall...for those with proper clothes and safety from rain.  Harry had neither.

                'It would be my luck for it to rain on my birthday while I am stuck out here, on a park bench, with no cover, and loose clothes,' Harry thought irritably, trying to find a way to bundle himself up to keep warm and preventing his clothes from getting too wet should the rain decide to grace Harry with its presence earlier.

                'I suppose I could always duck for cover if it rains and come back out when Uncle Vernon comes into sight,' Harry thought.  A drop of water splattered onto Harry's banged up glasses, quickly followed by another.  Before Harry could run for cover, the rain tumbled down quickly, and soon, every inch of Harry was drenched.


                Shivering, the five-year-old ran to a nearby oak tree and sought shelter in its branches.

                'I don't care if Uncle Vernon yells and screams and hits me, there is no way that I am going to catch a cold,' Harry thought grimly while trying to get the water out of his clothes.  As soon as much of the water could be drained, he settled back into the branches and watched the rainfall down through the leaves.

                'How long did they say they were going to stay?  Until five, I think.  The rain, I hope should end by then and I can go back to sitting back at the bench and Uncle Vernon won't know the difference.  Heh, I'm going to be dry and they won't be able to find a reason to punish me…'

                Harry's wonderful idea of being dry was quickly soaked…literally.  A branch had suffered enough pounding of the rain and submitted to the onslaught, causing a funnel of water cascading onto Harry.  For a minute, Harry didn't move, letting the water drench him.

                "…I really have to learn when to shut up about my small good fortunes…" Harry sighed and moved out of the way of the falling water, climbing higher up into the tree.  As soon as he was sure that he was safe from any more wicked water, he again began to rinse out the water in his clothes.

                "Why me?" Harry grumbled when he saw that there was no way of being properly dry anymore.

                "Why anyone?" an amused voice called out from above him.

                Startled, little Harry looked up…and squeaked when a person dropped down from a clump of branches and leaves above into the branch right next to him.

                Blinking, Harry stared at the blond-haired boy settling himself in his new branch.  Pale skin, dark blue eyes, dirty blond hair, looked to be about ten, athletic figure.  Harry categorized all this in one glance.  Being considered lower then a worm allowed him to observe people and being taught to not meet anyone's eyes, he had to look at a person in just one glance.

                The boy looked back at Harry after settling into a comfortable position.  "Why anyone?" the boy repeated, amusement hidden in his voice.  "Why should poor cats be chased by the big bad dogs? Why should dogs be reprimanded by the masters because dogs do what comes naturally? Why must women suffer childbirth and men pleasure?  Why do you people have diseases? Why do you people get sick, die at young ages? Why does God let good people die?  Why must the meek inherit the Earth and why must the smart be poor? Why, why, why?"

                "…Excuse me?"

                Rolling his eyes, the boy continued.  "You people amuse me.  You get a bit of misfortune and instantly grumble about the unfairness of it all, ignoring all the good that has come to you.  You think the world's against you, purposely seeking you out to harm you in every way possible, always giving you the short end of the stick.  Very funny."

                "I'm sorry but I just do not see the humor in me being soaking wet and in danger of getting sick," Harry said stiffly.

There the boy was, in neat and dry clothes, all warm and probably well-fed, living most likely with a wonderful family while here he was, an orphan in soaking clothes with a family who…

                Harry blinked.  Wait a minute…DRY CLOTHES?!?

                Before Harry could open his mouth and comment on the boy's lack of being wet, the boy continued.

"Oh, but I do," the boy replied smugly.  "There you are, with clothes on your back, and a home to go to, which you do have, I saw you drive up with your family.  You have clothes, no matter that they're wet because other children in the world have none and have to survive heat and cold with no shelter.  And even though you're a bit skinny, you are not underfed, meaning you get food while others do not.

"So while you moan and grumble about the cruelty and unfairness of it all, other people are suffering much worse then you.  Do you see my amusement now?"

"No, I can not, seeing as how you laugh at other people's misfortunes," Harry shot back sharply.  "You there, with your dry clothes - which makes me uneasy because it would be impossible to not get wet in this weather - are living a content life while other people are in pain.  You're most likely an upper-class man who probably just laughs at our misfortunes, thinking that none of our problems can compare to yours, seeing as how you are holier-than-thou!"

The boy stared with no expression.

"Well, well, well.  It seems that Marylin was correct…"the boy mused softly.

Harry blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

                The boy smiled.  "Polite, intelligent, observing, not that naïve, and cute.  Did you know that when you grow up, those attributes could help you much?"

                Harry squirmed.  He really did not like the way that boy was staring at him…all amusement was gone and the only emotion left was consideration.

                "I'm not intelligent and I'm not naïve," Harry said flatly.

                "Not intelligent? Then how do you know words like uneasy, misfortune, upper-class men, fortune, and humor? How can you understand the words that come from me when I speak at the level of fifth year?  How do you understand the concepts that I say, when I know that no ordinary five-year-old can understand the meaning, both literal and otherwise, of misfortune?"

                'That's it, I have had enough.'  Resolved, Harry decided that setting on a wet park bench with no protection from the rain was more comfortable than talking to this boy.

                 He reached out for a branch to climb down from but before he could grab it, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.  Yelping, Harry jerked back and stared fearfully at the strange boy.  There was an odd gleam in his eyes.

                "What do you want from me?  Why?" Harry whimpered, trying to get as far back from the boy.

                "Again with the whys.  Do you not know that why's can never be answered?  You may give an essay on one question but give the same question to another person and you have different answers.  Which is right?  Neither but neither is wrong.  The questioner will have a different answer and the person above him too.  Always a different answer."

                "What do you want from me?"

                "What makes you think I want anything from you?

                "You know so much about me, and you make it sound like you've been observing me for a really long time.  So I believe there has to be a reason."

                "Smart.  Nice reasoning too, but no, I have not been observing you longer than the moment you climbed up this tree."

                "Then how do you know so much about me?"

                "Merely by observing you while I talked.  All your reactions and the way you talk tell everything, even though we have only been in each other's company for a brief time.  I presume you know me as well, merely by what I say and my actions."

                "Well, why did you strike up this conversation? You must have wanted something…" Harry said, still uneasy about their talk.

                "I was bored and your question was a way to past the time.  And my, my, you ARE intelligent."

                "Am not."

                "Are too."

                "Am not."

                "Are too."

                "Am not, am not, am not."

                "Are too, are too, are too."

                "Am not, am not, am not, am not times infinity."

                "Well, you just proved it."


                "Even though you are a bit intelligent, you still have a mind of a five-year-old.  We're going to have to work on that."

                "What?  What are you talking about NOW?  This is the only time I'm going to see you, if I have my way."

                "Who says you are going to have your way?  I thought we established that life was unfair and cruel."

                "How in the world are you going to find me again?  There is less than one in a million chance that we shall see each other again."  Harry was annoyed.  Who was this boy?

The boy interrupted Harry's train of thought.  "I have not introduced myself, have I?  Lest Opacre, age ten.  And we will see each other again.  You are too rare for me to let you go easily."

                "What am I, a piece of jewelry?  Who are you to say that you will not let me go?"  As much as this boy irritated Harry, he was also fascinated by the way he spoke.  His voice carried a quiet authority, assurance, ease.  And he did not demean Harry, thinking that he was stupid by the way he dressed.  As long as he did not continue to act like an upper-class snob, perhaps it would be nice to chat with him occasionally.  But Harry was NOT a thing to be considered as property.

                "What?  Now where did that politeness go?"  Lest was amused again.  "I have given you my name and you will not allow me the luxury of yours?   And, please, take no offense of how I sounded.  I am merely saying that you are too unique for me to quit talking with you."

                "What was that you were saying about life not being fair?"  'Might as well use some wit to bring him down that pedestal of egoism he is on…'

                "Touché.  But I think that you will find that saying doubling back on you."  Lest pointed downward, towards the bench Harry had previously occupied.  "Is that not your family?"

                Blood draining from his face, Harry noticed his uncle's deadly expression.  Apparently it was raining so hard that the zoo had to close, causing the Dursleys to leave early…and finding out that Harry had moved.

                Quick as lightning, Harry shot up and started to climb down.  He paused, and then turned back to Lest.

                "Harry Potter."

                "A pleasure to meet you, Harry.  I will see you soon."

                Lest smiled.

                And five-year-old Harry finally noticed Lest's teeth.

                Face paling faster, Harry jumped off the branches, landed softly on his feet on the muddy ground and ran furiously towards his uncle, Lest's laughter echoing softly behind him.

                Five-year-old Harry Potter had noticed Lest Opacre's rather long canine teeth.


Author's Notes: I never realized how hard it is to write a story. A brief moment to applaud all authors who post weekly. *applauds* Now that you've read this, can you please comment? Who knows, maybe some of your suggestions will wind up in my story.