Misplaced

The Prologue

Welcome! Here is the prologue, I hope you enjoy.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY AM I DOING THIS!!?!?!?!

If you haven't read my other fanfiction -thank god-, but something I do is I'll ask a question and whoever answers it first will win bragging rights and a dedication.

So onto the question -which is hopefully easy-!

What is Harry Potter's mother's name, and what day did she die?

Good luck, and hope you enjoy!

Larissa

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Whatever he did wrong, he didn't do it. He promised, pinky narwhale swore -and you don't break those-, but whoever was after him -men in black flowy dress-looking things, weird, right?- didn't let the small child stop to let him explain this.

-It wasn't polite, and Mom always said to be polite, so the funny dressed men were in the wrong, not himself-

The seven-year-old tripped over another empty box that way flying in the New York Streets.

-Look, however, this happened, it wasn't his fault, yes his Mama told him to stay close and yes he got a little distracted and wandered away, but he couldn't help it!-

One of the scary-funny dressed- men said another unrecognizable word -and he knew a lot of words, even if his brain mixed up the letters sometimes- and another flash of bright light -almost like the laser he pointed at Claris, a fellow classmate, and got in trouble for, even if she stared it- and it narrowly passed him slamming into a wall, and the wall crumbled beside him.

He yelped and put all of his effort into running faster, smarter -he knew the streets of New York, kind of, but better than the scary men- so he ducked between an alleyway and passed through the city.

"Harry Potter! You'll pay!" One of the men screamed, his nightmare of a skull mask slowly slipping from his face as he chased a small child through the city.

-Harry Potter? What a stupid name, Perseus was much better, even if he was only called that when he got in trouble. But Perseus did not know Harry Potter nor he did know what he had to pay. Money? That fish he somehow stole from the fish store? The old lollipop that sat heavy in his pocket?-

Distracted by Harry Potter -curse him, whoever he was- his body was flung aside yet again as his foot caught on some else's. 

The scary men got closer.

"You know, he's close to the Port-key. He'll be easy to bring back home." One of the men snarled, his black dress tattered and muddied and mask drooping.

Shaking his head, the boy inched backwards almost crab walking. -Home? He was home. This was the only home he knew of, even if he had to split it with smelly Gabe-

The tallest one of the three -the one with white locks that tumbled down past his blank mask- turned to the other men, "Yes, it's almost time. Three minutes?" The thick one grunted in agreement and Percy scooted even farther back, but it didn't help, as his back hit the wall.

"We can take our time. Have a bit of fun before we go home. Maybe we'll be rewarded." The thick one growled and the small boy eyed the potted plant to the left of him -if he could just throw.

"Calm down-"

The man never finished his sentence because the child picked up the potted plant with all intentions of throwing it, but arm mid-swing, his gut caught and he started to spin.

Feeling sick, he held onto the potted plant with all his might as the world blurred around. -He was so confused, where was Mom?-

Finally, he landed in a sprawl as his grip slipped and he slammed to the ground. Immediately -after he finished being sick, that thing was harsh, man- he noticed the hundreds of sticks pointed at his head. He jerked back -confused, lost, where was he? Why were there so many of the scary people?-, and his head got poked by the end of one of the nasty sticks. Finally, the crowd parted and a regal looking man -well... regal walking man, all of them looked the same-, marched right up to the child. 

He gripped the seven-year-old's head in his hand and jerked it so he could see the child's forehead. 

-He did not start crying, he did not-

The man uttered a word that the boy had never heard before, and then turned his back and address the crowd, "This is not the boy who lived, and we have lost three good men to the idiotic muggle lovers, " the boy's mind wondered -if the "muggle", whatever that was, was stupid, how did they lose to them? Did that mean these scary men were even more stupid?-, "So we will get back at them, started with this child."

The brown stick was at his head again, and the child tensed, not really knowing why. 

"Avad-" Whatever the man was saying, was cut off. The stick pointed to the new opening in the wall as more men -and this time women- dressed in the weird dresses came through, pointing their sticks -why did everyone have sticks?- and shooting off more light. 

-This time, the child was not ashamed to have started crying.-

Tears tumbled down his face, but he kept his mouth shut. -If there was anything the child learned from "Smelly Gabe" was to keep his head down and mouth shut-

The fight continued, and there he sat, bundled in a small ball, watching the fireworks of lights fly overhead. Bodies dropped and screams were yelled, but the small child never moved, letting his tears puddle around his face.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his stomach and the kid cried out, kicking and screaming until the person turned him around. 

"Hey, hey. It's okay. Can I take you out of here?" the man had put the small child back down, but he stayed where he was -the way Mom used to when Smelly Gabe got too angry-, and his hands moved up in a 'non-threating' position.

Looking around at the chaos, the boy nodded at the tall man and was picked back up. The man sprinted through the fight and quickly moved out of the warzone. Racing, he set the boy down, his eyes glancing over the boy.

"You're one of them aren't you?" The tall man's eyes softened into a kinder hazel and then melted, "Black hair, green eyes, you'd look just like him, they've been going after your kind for a while now. It'll end here, don't you worry."

Worried would not begin to describe how the boy was feeling. He worried about his mother and the other boys. What "his kind" was, and why Black hair, green eyes were so important.

When the man's eyes slid back over to the shaking kid's face, he quickly changed the topic, "Don't worry, we'll get you safe. My name is Kingsly Shacklebolt. What's yours?"

When the boy didn't respond, Kingsly's hands found their way to the boy's back and gave the poor kid a hug.

The man's hands reminded him of melted chocolate, and the boy softened into the man's grip.

As softly as he could, the kid spoke, "Percy. M' name is Perseus Jackson."