A/N: Well everybody, I thought that it was time for me to start a new story. This time, it's a crossover between Harry Potter and the Dresden Files. The latter part of the crossover will initially be very small and very well explained, but depending on how far I take the story, that role will grow. I recommend anybody who likes Fantasy novels to have a go at this series.
Harry gave a short cry of pain as he was roughly pushed into the mud, his emerald green eyes glinting with pain behind his taped glasses and his mouth open in a silent cry of pain as the wind was forcefully pushed from his lungs. He lay there, panting and wheezing in near silence as Dudley Dursley's chubby face leered over him, grinning with savage pleasure as he deliberately stepped on Harry's schoolbag as he hopped up to the red school bus.
Harry tried to get up but winced in pain as the school bus doors closed and the driver, unable to see Harry stuck in the mud on such a cloudy and gloomy day, slowly pulled away from the curb and onto the street. Harry glanced after it with pained eyes as the clouds rumbled overhead, thunder booming and lightning flashed through the air as the first pelts of rain drifted downwards.
"I hate you Dudley," Harry whispered softly to himself, picking himself up from the mud and glancing down at himself in disgust and dismay. His blue school pants were dripping and his shoes, newly polished, were caked in wet mud. His eyes drifted towards his school bag, where Dudley's muddy footprint and his eyes widened with horror. He scrambled through the mud towards it and with fingers numbing from the cold, opened up the zipper.
Harry reached in with shaking hands and pulled out a pair of expensive binoculars. A large crack ran through one of the lenses and Harry groaned in misery. He had "borrowed" the binoculars from his Uncle Vernon so that he could show them off to his favourite teacher at playtime. He had meant to put them back when he got home, but now that he had missed the bus, Uncle Vernon was going to return from work sooner than Harry would be able to, and he would definitely notice that his binoculars were gone. What was worse, Dudley had broken them and Harry shuddered, dread settling in his heart as he placed the binoculars back in his schoolbag and lifted it up onto his back. Uncle Vernon was going to kill him, or at least, inflict a world of pain on him.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Harry muttered to himself, panic tearing in his voice. The seven-year old was shivering madly and only partly because of the cold. He was breathing deeply, fear etched into every scar on his body, most courtesy of Uncle Vernon. "Please no. Not the binoculars, anything but them."
With fumbling hands, Harry reached into his shirt and drew upon his last article of faith, a small crucifix given to him by his Sunday school after church. Clasping it tightly between whitened knuckles, he closed his eyes and chanted to himself fervently.
"Please God; don't let this happen to me. Don't let them hurt me again," Harry mumbled softly, barely audible to himself over the noise of the rain. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued his prayer. "I always ask and you never answer, just this once God, don't let them."
Harry opened his eyes but the binoculars remained broken and worthless as they had been a few seconds ago and Harry sighed in resignation, his hope dying and his eyes fluttering shut. When he opened them again, they were dull and lifeless as he mentally prepared himself for what he knew was coming for him. Slowly, the seven-year old packed up his schoolbag and trudged his way down the road, ignoring the cars the sped past him.
As he stood on the corner of the street waiting to cross the road, a car screeched past, zooming into and out of a large muddy puddle on the road. The resulting spray struck Harry with moderate force, drenching him with muddy water and causing him to stagger back a few steps. Harry wiped the mud out of his eyes and glanced down at his shirt, which was covered in muddy grime. A glint caught his eye as his crucifix swayed in the wind, and suddenly anger surged into his body. His emerald eyes glinted with fury as he grasped the golden-coloured cross and yanked it with all his strength, snapping the cord that held it around his neck and hurling it at the muddy ground.
