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If anyone had told six-year-old Harry Potter that at the age of eleven he'd be off to learn magic at a school for witches and wizards, he never would have believed them, what with how his aunt and uncle had told him there was no such thing as magic for his entire upbringing.
Similarly, if anyone had told thirteen-year-old Harry Potter that he'd spend his summer being chased around the English countryside by a homicidal alien, he'd have laughed in their face.
But here he was, out in the midst of Dartmoor, weaving in and out of the rocky outcropping of the backside of Haytor, closely followed by what appeared to be a man somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, but by now, Harry knew differently.
He was breathing heavily, his legs had fallen numb about an hour prior, yet still, he pushed himself.
He knew from experience with his cousin's 'Harry Hunting' that should he look over his shoulder, his body would slow down, which would inevitably lead to being caught, as such, he only had the sound of the being's footfalls to tell him how close he was.
Harry also knew that he could easily catch up to him even without him slowing down, as his legs were quite a bit longer than his and not just from the fact that the man was fully grown.
"Come now, Doctor, it's time to stop running and face me!"
And there was another thing, he seemed to believe that he was someone called 'Doctor', Harry thought he was nuts.
It had started a few days into his holiday, not that it could really be called such when his relatives had put him straight to work on the household chores, he'd been in the garden, carefully pulling the weeds away from the magnolia bushes when he saw him for the first time.
The man had been standing across the road, watching him with a blank face as he weeded. Once he noticed that Harry had seen him, he'd let a sharp grin spread across his face, one which seemed to radiate malice, or perhaps just madness.
Harry gasped slightly as he stumbled across a small dead shrub, quickly he looked down towards his feet as he realigned his footing before snapping his head back up and continuing over the small hilled area, hoping to get to the top quickly.
He'd spent the past three weeks being chased all over England by this being, from Surrey to Birmingham, then to Dartmoor in Devon.
He supposed he should be glad that the man-being-unknown had allowed him to eat food and rest each night at any hotel or inn he came across, but Harry thought that perhaps the man didn't like the hunt if his prey was exhausted, maybe it wasn't fun?
And that's what he truly believed he was to this being, prey.
Five nights prior, he'd finally listened to what his gut was telling him and sent a letter off to Hermione asking for any help she could get him, Hedwig, bless her, had found him every night since this ridiculous chase had begun and so he'd sent her off with his pleas.
And Hermione had come through, although she didn't exactly tell him what was happening, she'd told him that there would be some people waiting to help him on the roadside closest to Haytor, he just had to get there.
Once at the top of the hill, he quickly raced around the large rock situated there, peering down the hill, he wanted to stop in relief.
There on the roadside at the bottom of the hill, just next to the little tourist information centre, just like she'd said, was a group of people and Hermione was amongst them.
Harry pushed himself faster, using the momentum of gravity to help his descent, pushing as much distance as he could between himself and the suddenly stalling man behind him.
"Harry!" cried Hermione, as he darted across the road paying no attention to any possible oncoming vehicles.
"Hermione!" he called back to her as he ran up to her and hugged her.
"Harry, you're alright!" she spoke into his shoulder.
Harry nodded in agreement as he finally listened to his legs, which were shaking in his exhaustion, and lowered himself to sit on the ground, Hermione following him down.
He looked back up to watch the strangely dressed people as they stood facing his strange stalker, who had paused on the opposite side of the road, staring at them as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of them but believed them to be somewhat of a threat.
Of course, that could be due to the fact that out of the seven people gathered, five of them were pointing guns at him.
Of the two men who weren't pointing guns at the alien, one looked to be preparing medical supplies, likely getting ready to check him over to make sure he was alright from his three-week wander.
The other seemingly unarmed man stood glaring at him like a man who'd just been faced with his childhood bully, before he turned and walked towards the two teenagers sat on the ground, his expression clearing from the hatred as he looked to them.
"So," he started, looking at Harry in open interest, "what did you do to get the attention of that one?"
Harry blinked dumbly up at this new man, "I was just weeding the garden," he admitted.
The man opened his mouth to continue his interrogation when Hermione interrupted, "Uncle Jack, perhaps you should introduce yourself before you turn this into the Spanish inquisition?"
He blinked, startled, before coughing embarrassedly into his sleeve.
"Ah, right you are, Hermione," he held his hand out to Harry and threw a dumb-looking grin on his face, "Captain Jack Harkness, I have the absolute honour of being this young lady's godfather," he paused, turning to beam at Hermione, "and I would just like to say it's very nice to meet you."
Something about how this was said only served to irritate Harry, but he didn't let it show as he took Jack's hand and shook it, "Harry Potter."
The handshake with Jack lasted a tad longer than Harry felt truly comfortable with, it only ending when Hermione cleared her throat.
"So then, how does weeding a garden end with a teenager being chased across the country by what is possibly the biggest megalomaniac of this century?"
Harry blinked tiredly up at the man then turned to face Hermione, "Is he always this cheerful?"
"Mostly," shrugged Hermione, turning to face her godfather, "maybe you should let him rest for a minute? Maybe let him have a drink of water? He's been running all day you know."
Jack looked mildly surprised, before patting down his coat pockets and pulling out a sealed bottle of water, he passed it over to Harry who took it with a grateful look on his face, quickly opening it and guzzling it down in seconds, proving just how much he'd needed it.
"Thanks," he gasped out once he was done, "and to answer your question, I have no idea."
Jack looked at Harry, almost as though he were going to ask something else, before deciding against it and walking over to the people with the guns, who had begun to move in closer to where Harry and Hermione were sat in an attempt to keep the alien from coming any closer to them, as while they'd been talking, he'd crossed the road, having obviously dismissed the gun-wielding humans as a nonthreat.
The alien, and Harry was getting tired of referring to his stalker as 'the alien', 'the stalker', or even 'the creepy guy', after three weeks of being chased by him, he thought it'd be nice to know the name of the person who'd caused him numerous nervous breakdowns over the last few weeks, paused in his advances when Jack intercepted him.
He took one look at the fury and hatred on the human's face and raised an eyebrow.
"It appears that you know me," he stated.
"Unfortunately, I have had the displeasure of meeting you," Jack hissed at him.
"And I suppose you're going to deal with me?" he questioned, lifting his hands to examine his fingernails, "you're going to lock me away, in a secure facility where I cannot escape?"
"No," he denied, pulling a mobile phone from his pocket, "I don't have to do anything, the Doctor told me to call him if I saw you," he paused, looking the man over, "any of you," he amended.
Jack made a small startled noise when the man began laughing.
"Oh, oh, that's just too good!" his laughter began growing hysteric, "you can't call the Doctor to help you here!"
"Oh? And why shouldn't we call him?" he challenged.
At this point, Hermione and Harry had been shuffled over to lean against one of the vans while the rest of Jack's teammates were shuffling about, making sure that their equipment was ready to deal with the threat in front of them as soon as they were given a signal.
"Why I'm certain that my dear Doctor wouldn't want to cross his own timeline!" he revealed, like a gameshow host telling his players of the next question's theme.
"The Doctor," Jack began, looking at the man warily, as though saying the wrong word could make him snap, which, knowing him, it probably could, "isn't here."
"Oh, but he is!" he spoke, while looking around the area with a mad grin on his face, "he just doesn't know it!"
"What do you mean he 'doesn't know it'?" he questioned, "are you on about that pocket watch thing?"
The alien froze, grin slipping from his face as he scrutinised the seemingly American man.
"Pocketwatch thing?" he muttered, "he thinks I'm talking about a chameleon arch?"
The words were spoken aloud, yet it was obvious he was talking to himself, the nine people watched as he muttered to himself for a few more minutes, occasionally swapping awkward glances with those closest to them, before the man clapped his hands together and faced Jack once more.
"Oh, absolutely not, he's just lost his memories," he looked up at the sky for a moment, before looking over in Harry's direction, "managed to get himself de-aged too!"
Hermione, Jack, and the six people who were Jack's co-workers all turned to stare at him.
"I have absolutely no idea what he's going on about," he defended himself.
Hermione looked at him, a slightly confused look on her face as she thought back on the stories she'd heard of the Doctor and what she knew of Harry, as she was thinking, Jack had pulled out a device from his pocket and had subtly done a scan on him.
"Well, of course, you wouldn't, you don't remember," said his stalker, seemingly offended.
"Oh, I want to deny it," complained Hermione, "but it honestly makes just a bit too much sense!"
"What do you mean?" questioned Jack distractedly as he read the scan results, and, yes, that was two hearts he was picking up from his goddaughter's friend.
"Well, in the first year there was the Troll incident," she recalled, "oh! And the Stone too."
Harry frowned, looking more than a little bit confused as he thought back on what Hermione was saying, unsure of why she was bringing up these incidents as reasoning as to why he really could be this 'Doctor' person.
"In our second year there was the Basilisk," she mused, "this year just gone there were Dementors and someone who was framed for murder."
"I'm not sure how this relates to me not being, well, me," Harry spoke in confusion.
Hermione turned to face Harry to explain, "From the stories I've been told about the Doctor, he's always had a knack of getting himself into and out of trouble, along with terrible luck and a saving people thing," she lectured, "and, well, you have to admit, you also have these qualities."
"Not to mention, my scanner's picking up two hearts from you," Jack told him, lifting the device in the air and wiggling it about for added effect.
"That's a birth defect!" he called out indignantly, "the lady at the hospital said it's rare but that it happens sometimes," he stated, "good for open-heart surgery," he added as an afterthought.
"What about the colour of your blood?" challenged his stalker.
"What about it?" he snapped back to him, gaining a raised eyebrow in return for his efforts.
"It's obviously more of an orange colour, a bit darker too."
"A trick of the light," Harry ground out.
Somewhere during the conversation, the man had managed to move closer to him and the two were practically face to face.
"Your lower body temperature?" he ground out.
"I was malnourished growing up, it's to be expected with my poor nutrition!"
His stalker's face became one of open shock as he registered what he'd said before he began to make a growling sound that reminded him of Crookshanks when Ron had tried to take his favourite toy away.
"We'll talk about that one later," he spoke in anger, before seemingly deciding something and slamming Harry up against the side of one of the vans, which was obviously owned by Jack and his team, by his throat, "explain this one then."
His fingers were digging against his windpipe, blocking his ability to breathe through his lungs and yet he found himself still able to breathe as he struggled against his hold.
Harry was vaguely aware of the fact that Jack and his team had begun to attempt to pull the man away from him, but he was too busy panicking.
"Still refusing?"
He heard the words but didn't acknowledge them as he was too busy trying to pry his fingers open.
"Well then, what about this?" the man pressed his forehead against his and he barely had time to comprehend the word he spoke after when his mind was stolen away from him for a brief moment, "contact."
It felt as though someone had gone into his head and had begun rifling through it like it was a cupboard and they were trying to find a can of tuna that they could have sworn was in here, maybe it had migrated to the back, perhaps behind the soup?
While this was happening, Harry became aware of one thing, the man who was currently going through his head like a car boot sale on a Monday, his name was 'The Master'.
Kinky.
It was over as quickly as it began and the Master let go of his throat, allowing himself to be manhandled away from him as he dropped to the ground, breathing hard.
"You will remember, my dear, it is only a matter of time," he stated casually, unfazed at the glare he received from Harry for his efforts, "only a matter of time indeed."
Jack's co-workers quickly worked to surround him, their guns pointed at his head, the Master raised his hands in a sign of surrender and gave them all a mocking pout.
"Oh, I see, this is the thanks I get for helping the Doctor?" his pout slipped into an easy grin.
"I don't see how this was helping, all you did was chase someone who thought he was a teenager for three weeks then choked him out!" cried Hermione, blushing as they all turned to look at her.
"If you were truly trying to help, why didn't you just go and talk to him?" Jack reluctantly asked him, "why hunt him down across the country? All you're going to do is sew distrust in him."
"I was bored, the Doctor, the one I'm currently spending my time around, is busy on another planet, not destroying my well-placed plans which I created just for him to destroy," he boasted, "so what better way to pass my time than to go and harass another Doctor?" he looked Harry in the eye, holding his stare for a moment before breaking away, "the fact that this one can't remember his life was unexpected but slightly amusing."
"And since we know that you exist in the future, we have no choice but to let you leave, right?" Jack hissed out.
"Oh, don't worry," the Master grinned at him, "I'll leave as soon as I get to my TARDIS," he promised, "I'll even let you watch to make sure I go."
That seemed to be the end of the conversation, and Jack and his teammates quickly worked to lock the Master in the back of one of the vans, all five of the armed persons getting in the same one to make sure that he could be quickly subdued.
Harry followed Hermione, her godfather, and what was obviously the team's medic into the second van in a daze.
They sat in relative silence for most of the journey as they followed the other van to wherever the Master had parked his TARDIS.
That was until Jack spoke up once more, "I have another question now," Jack mused, looking at Harry, no, the Doctor, through the mirror, "where's your TARDIS?"
"My what?"