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Chapter Text

Harrys’ eyes slowly fluttered shut as black crept into the corners of his vision. The 8-year-old breathed in deeply as a pang echoed from his stomach, curling into a ball. The house was dead silent, and he held his breath as uncle Vernons’ snore stutters for a second. Harry closed his eyes. Was he really going through with this? He hadn’t eaten nearly enough in days.
Harry opened his eyes again and winced as he shifted into a sitting position, reaching for the door to his cupboard. He had to get something. Even just a single piece of bread might help stave off grumbles from his stomach for a bit more. Then he wouldn’t get threats and disgusted looks from his aunt and uncle in the morning.
Harry peeked out of the door, which Vernon had not bothered to lock for several days. Why? Harry didn’t know. Maybe they thought he would just starve willingly?
Big green eyes stare out into the darkness and sharp ears listen carefully, cataloging any and all breaths from the family of three just upstairs. He crept slowly across the floor, cautiously avoiding all creaky spots he knew of on the floor. Miraculously Harry managed to make it to the kitchen, where he found himself at a bit of a loss. What should he grab that wouldn’t be noticed tomorrow morning at breakfast. He couldn’t just take a raw egg or something. A small, packaged food catches Harrys’ eye and he quickly makes a decision.
The crinkling of the bread bag felt too loud in the silence of the house at night. Harry quickly snatched two pieces and closed the bag the best he could without making the bag look touched. He closed his eyes and breathed out, barely a whisper as he clutched the two pieces of bread to his chest and turned around, only to freeze.
There, standing silently with beady eyes squinting meanly in the sparse light, was Vernon.
Harry froze, scared stiff at being caught.
Vernon grumbled slightly, then took a step forward, boxing Harry into the kitchen.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing boy?!” His voice rose to a roar by the end of his sentence. Harry couldn’t move, not until he stepped closer.
“I-I…I’m sorry, please Uncle Vernon please-” Harry stutters as Vernon quickly grows purple with rage. His hands curl into fists as he stomps closer to Harry, determined to give him a lesson he wouldn’t forget. Harry whimpers and backs up, curling into a ball around the bread when his back hits the counter. The fat mans’ fist rears high into the air as Harry releases a few tears and feels a sharp tug in his chest, before the world spins and quickly fades to black.

Chapter Text

The air was blisteringly hot, and Harry’s mouth was absolutely parched.
No, wait, that’s sand. There is sand in his mouth.
Harry struggled to lift his head as the sun beamed down relentlessly on his unprotected skin. He was being baked alive and barely had the strength to drag himself anywhere.
Regardless, he didn’t survive the Dursleys for nothing. This would not take him out, not if he had anything to say about it.
Harry dragged his weak and sunburnt body to an upright position with a long groan and glanced around to gather his surroundings.
Miles.
Miles and miles of sand.
Everywhere Harry turned, there was just more sand. Where was he?
Harry huffed as he slowly tucked his knees underneath him and pushed up to a wobbly standing position. Maybe he would be able to see more standing?
Nope. Just more sand.
He huffed and squinted to see if maybe he could spot something, anything in the distance. Maybe there would just so happen to be a tree line?
But this was the real world and Harry Potter was never lucky in the real world it felt like.
So Harry, not knowing what to do, but already sick and tired of the sun, decided to pick a direction and start walking.
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Harry walked for hours, parched and weakening more than he already was but it felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere. There was just more sand! Harry had had to lower his eyes to protect them from the sun an hour ago, at least it felt like an hour. Time was blurring as his headache grew and vision began to double. Harry decided to risk one glance upwards to see if he had even gotten anywhere, slow moving as he was.
Harry turned slowly in a circle to spot what could be his saving grace, and almost missed the tiny glimpse of green in the distance to his left. He would have cheered if he didn’t feel like vomiting. He was barely sweating by this point, which he knew from a show on the Telly that he heard Dudley watching from his cupboard was really bad. He remembered listening with fascination as the show talked about the environments of the world and how different animals survived in them. He was getting distracted.
Green.
To his left.
Lets go.
Harry trudged steadily to the glimpse of green that progressively filled out into a small watering hole and some tall kinda scraggly trees.
The boy could have cried but he didn’t have enough water in his body for that. He stumbled faster than ever to the edge of the watering hole, not even caring about potential bacteria or dangers in the water. He was just desperate for even an ounce of water.
The dehydrated child gulped roughly 4 mouthfuls before he felt his stomach try to reject more. Wiping the water from his chin he crawled to the largest of the trees and curled up in the shade.
He wasn’t going to sleep, that was dangerous. He was just, resting his eyes. Yeah! Just resting his eyes. As the sun steadily began to sink, Harry sighed. He was finally cooling down.

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“Hey, kid! Wake up!”
A stern and serious voice cut through the fog of sleep that had settled in Harry’s mind. Huh?
”Uncle Vernon?” Harry hesitantly asked, scared to open his eyes. What if the massive desert was just a dream? He didn’t know what he would do, but the voice sounded…off.
”I don’t know who Vernon is, he’s your uncle? Why are you here alone? Where is your group?”
The stern voice responded? Harry cracked his eyes open, glancing upwards at the most unique person he had ever seen.
Bronzy skin, long thick white hair, amber eyes and very…revealing clothes. Harry had never seen anything like it. It was kinda cool, he decided. The man released a small cough and Harry realized he hadn’t responded.
”Vernon Dursley sir. I don’t know where I am.” Harry said quietly, somewhat intimidated by the muscled adult crouched near him.
The man frowned, eyes narrowing as he thought and Harry flinched slightly, worried that he had made the man mad. Noticing this, the man stood up and took a step back and glanced around.
”You don’t know where you are? Do you know how you got here?” He questioned.
Harry shook his head.
”I’ve never been near a desert in my life sir, and I’m not really sure how I got here. My uncle found me and I panicked, then I woke up in the sun here.” Harry explained as best he could. How was he exactly supposed to explain that anyways?
The man glanced back at Harry, looking him up and down.
“Well, I can help you get out of here. My name is Cyno, what about you kid?”
The man, Cyno, Harry mused, offered his hand to Harry as his featured softened. Harry hesitated. Was he about to go off with this oddly dressed stranger? Well, he can’t be worse than Uncle Vernon can he? And he is offering to help…Harry reached for Cyno’s hand.
“I’m Harry Potter sir.”