I do not own Pokemon or Harry Potter.

Boy had been walking home from school when he met the man. It was only his second day and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. The teachers were always confusing him with someone else, someone called "Hairy" or something….on the other hand he got out of the cupboard for the day, which was always a good thing.

He had been hurrying home from the school; he wasn't allowed to be late. Bad things happened when he was late.

"Harry Potter," a rough voice slurred out and Boy practically growled as he turned toward the voice, fully planning on telling him off. That wasn't his bloody name, why could no-one get it right?

However he found himself speechless when he caught sight of the man.

He was tall; way taller than the boy, which considering Boy was only four years old, isn't really that surprising, but he was even taller than Boy's Uncle, and his uncle was huge. He was dressed weirdly too; wearing some kind of a black dress, and Boy wrinkled his noise at the gross smell of beer as the man moved closer. Boy eyed him warily as he continued to move towards him and cautiously took a step back.

"Hah, Harry Potter," the man said triumphantly as he lunged forward, grabbing Boy by the wrist.

Boy officially started to panic then and attempted to pull away, which only succeeded in hurting his wrist. The man may have almost fallen over when he grabbed him but he was definitely strong.

He started pulling Boy closer to him, and the stench just got worse. The man almost fell again as he took a step but he managed to stay upright. He started laughing, almost hysterically before turning on the spot, dragging Boy along.

Boy couldn't think; his mind had been frozen with terror. When he had started to feel tightly pressed in on all sides he desperately tried to pull away. He found himself wishing with all his might that he was somewhere else, somewhere safe.

Then with a loud crack the struggling duo disappeared.


When Boy felt the ground reappear below his feet, he kept his eyes scrunched closed, afraid of what he would see. He could no longer feel the man's hand on his arm, so he assumed that his wish had worked. He stood stock still as his breathing slowly returned to normal, and only then did he open his eyes.

The terraced houses of Little Whinging had been replaced by large, fat trees, seemingly dripping green moss off their branches. He'd seen forests like this on the TV one time; maybe he was inside the telly? There was definitely nothing like this in Surrey. He grinned as two dark blue birds chased each other above him; he'd always liked birds, they always seemed so happy.

He looked around him once the birds had vanished and, upon examining the ground beside him, felt his stomach clench. He had only escaped from half of the man in the dress, the other half was lying on the ground in front of him. A large pool of blood had already spread out around the dead man, and long coils of grey tube were slowly falling out of his tummy.

Boy ran.

He ran until he could run no more, which was a surprising distance considering his size. Boy had had lots of practice running from things and used his hard-gained skill now. He ducked under branches, jumped over logs, and splashed through puddles. Eventually, he had no more breath with which to run, and half collapsed underneath a tree.

Now that he was far from the oozing corpse, the forest started calming him again. It helped that he still had to get his breath back, but even once it returned to normal, Boy stayed underneath the tree.

Soon, the sun started to sink and the temperature started to drop with it, but Boy was ignoring it in favour of watching a strange rat. It was very big for a rat and had bright yellow fur. If that wasn't strange enough, it also had long red ears and red plus signs on its ears and tail. It was so busy eating some big, blue berries that it hadn't even noticed Boy watching it.

In fact, Boy was barely watching the rat, paying more attention to the berries themselves. It was probably dinner time, and Dudley had eaten his lunch, so breakfast was a long time ago, and hadn't been particularly filling to begin with. He had seen the berries, but didn't think he would have been allowed to eat any. But if the rat thing was eating the berries, then any berries he took would be blamed on the rat.

He moved from his spot, scaring the rat into running off, and crept towards the bush, alert for any irate bush owners. When he got to the bush and still didn't see anyone, he pulled a few berries off a branch and shoved them in to his mouth. While he was chewing the surprisingly juicy berries, he plucked more off the bush. After a couple minutes, the acidity of the berries started to give him a tummy ache, so he returned to his spot below the tree, carrying a couple handfuls of berries for later.

Once the sun fell, Boy found himself cooling off and burrowed into the leaves to try and trick his body into thinking it had a blanket. The end result was actually about as warm as his blanket at home, if a bit wet and slimy.

The air was no worse than mildly cool, but Boy was small, thin, hungry, damp, and wore only his badly fitting school uniform. Slowly, he fell asleep and eventually the leaves warmed around him, and his body relaxed on a bed much softer than he was used to.

He woke to a multitude of birds pronouncing the edges of their territories, greeting the sun, and chatting to their neighbours. He sat up. Most of the leaves fell off of him, but several remained stuck to his hair and clothes.

He ate the rest of the berries from the night before, mostly in an attempt to quench his thirst. When he finished, the boy stood up from his spot; as much as he had enjoyed not being yelled at, he knew he couldn't stay there forever. But before he could even pick a direction to walk in, he froze. Something large and black was bounding through the trees, heading directly towards him.

His eyes flickered to the dog's long muzzle, shaggy chest, and wagging tail. He hardly remembered the dog-man from when he was younger, but he remembered enough to be sure that this was him. He was here to rescue him from this forest, the dead man from yesterday, and his aunt and uncle.

"Padfoot?" He whispered when the large, black dog stopped right in front of him and started licking his face. "You found me!"


AN: This story is a collaboration between me and hotdogfish. She writes the Pokemon parts and I write the Harry Potter parts. She also beta reads for it. I hope you all enjoy the story. Leave a review to make either of our days.