Harry James Potter entered this world just like every other child; naked and crying. But that is where his similarities to other children ended. He was born to two adoring parents that loved him more than life itself and a slew of honorary Uncles; one of which happened to also be his Godfather. Always a quiet baby his days and nights were filled with laughed and peace. But unlike most fairy tales this one does not
end happily ever after. ---
October 31st was a date that would always be remembered in the wizarding world. It was the day that Lily and James Potter had died and their fifteen month old baby had defeated one of the most vicious wizards known to wizarding kind. Not only did little Harry defeat him he also survived what no other wizard could claim; the killing curse. This day was also the day that little Harry’s perfect life shattered into a tiny little pieces. Gone were the days of laugher and joy and in their place misery and loneliness.
With both his parents gone and his Godfather incarcerated for their deaths there was no one left to take the toddler except for Lily’s very plain sister and her rather brutish brother-in-law. Not having been given a choice in the matter they resented the boy with every fiber of their being. Vernon because it was another, unwanted, mouth to feed. Petunia because she hated her abnormal freak of a sister. And Dudley because he was suppose to be the center of attention. So for three months the savior of the wizarding world suffered at the hands of his relatives.
It was well into January when the Dursley’s had had enough. The boys cries, so different from Dudley’s, were drawing the attention of the neighbors and they were asking all kinds of unwanted questions. So late one night it was decided that they would leave the boy on someone else’s door step and simply move. So in the inky blackness of a chilly winter night, with the car all packed and the house listed, Vernon took the sleeping boy, cold medicine did the trick, and placed him on the doorstep of number eleven; the family had only recently moved to the neighborhood and kept to themselves or so it was said. Without so much as a glance back the Dursley family disappeared from England never to be seen or heard from again. And on that night little Harry’s life changed once again but this time for the better. ---
It was early in the morning, dawn had yet to bath the horizon in light, when Esme Cullen heard a sound. Her husband and children were still out hunting, she, herself, had just returned the previous night, so the house was quiet. Placing her book down she followed the noise, a whimper, to the front door. Pulling it open her hand flew to her mouth as golden eyes took in the sight. A child lay wrapped in a filthy blanket and its sleep was anything but restful. It was whimpering in such a fashion that reminded Esme of a wounded animal. Gently she picked it up and carried it inside out of the elements. Who would leave a child on a strangers doorstep when temperatures outside were near freezing? Carefully she laid the filthy bundle down on the expensive couch and unwrapped it. If the smell was anything to do by it hadn’t been changed or bathed in quite sometime. So calling upon her memories from when she was human she unbuttoned the too small dirty pajamas and pulled them off. The baby’s diaper was horrible and a growl escaped her throat. If she ever found out who had done such a thing to something so innocent she’d make them pay. Another whimper refocused her on her task. “I am sorry little one.” She whispered as she pulled the diaper off and discarded it in a nearby waste can. Since there was no diapers, or nappies, in the house she had to fashion one out of a soft towel and some safety pins. Once that was completed she carried the baby, a boy as it turned out, to the master bathroom where she cleaned him right and proper in the marble sink. After the smell had dissipated and the water ran clear she dried him and wrapped the make-shift diaper around him. Then she carried him back to the living room where she laid him on the couch and piled pillows around him so he wouldn’t roll off. With a frown she eyed the pajamas. Under the filth and grime she could make out little golden balls with wings and written on the collar in a hurried hand was a single name; Harry. “So your name is Harry?” She questioned the still sleeping baby. “What happened to you Harry that left you in such a state?”
Of course little Harry had no idea what was going on around him. The cold medicine that his Uncle had forced down his throat saw to that. But his dreams were anything but pleasant and he couldn’t seem to escape them.
Esme sat down beside the nest of pillows and brushed back a strand of black hair from Harry’s forehead. The ragged, red, weeping, wound on his forehead gave her pause. It was warm to the touch and more than likely infected. She’d have to have Carlisle look at it when he got home. Because if left untreated it would surely scar and the thought of anything scarring this perfect little boy made her more angry. Picking up her discarded book she returned to reading. Unknown to her fate was already weaving a new path for the little boy one that included the Cullens for many many years to come.