Chapter 1: Boy
Boy often pondered the meaning of names, and why he didn't have one himself.
He once asked his Uncle Vernon why. He was slapped at the question, and told, "Your a freak, Boy. And freaks don't deserve a name like nice normal boys." And was then promptly shoved into his cubboard for two days, without food or water.
He never asked again.
While he sat, curled on his tiny mattress in his cupboard, cradling his bleeding arm against his chest, he wondered why he was treated so different from his cousin.
Why his cousin had a bedroom, and a second bedroom, while he slept in a cupboard under the stairs.
Why if his cousin broke something, he was often told, "That's okay Dudley, we can just go buy a new one tomorrow!" While if Boy broke something, he was dragged by the arm, and thrown into his cubboard without food for the rest of the day.
And if he's unlucky, he'll hit something sharp, and get hurt.
Like now.
This time, his arm had hit his last year's birthday present, a broken metal clothes hanger.
It tore a long gash, from his elbow, down to his wrist.
Boy wasn't an idiot. He knew he could get bad illnesses, if it was left alone. The best he could do though, was wrap his cleanest shirt around it, and hope for this best.
Thankfully tomorrow was his cousins fifth birthday, so he would be left with the old cat lady neighbor for the day.
He'll probably be able to sneak some medical supplies from her.
He didn't know why, but whenever he tried to inform an adult of his injuries, they never remembered what happened by the next time he saw them.
He had given up any hope of someone coming to take him away, a long time ago.
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The day started like any other.
*Bang, Bang, Bang,* "Wake up Freak!"
Came the shriek of his Aunt Petunia's voice, right outside his cupboard.
"It's time to start learning how to cook Dudley's birthday breakfast!"
She yelled at the almost five year old.
She unlocked the deadbolt and threw open the cupboard door. "But I only started learning how to cook last week." He protested. His voice no more than a whisper, as he carefully crawled out, putting as little pressure on his injured arm as he could.
"That's plenty of time for freaks to learn. And if you burn anything, you know what will happen!" She spat at him, grabbing his injured arm, and dragging him to the kitchen.
Boy bit down a whimper. The last time he let them hear his pain, he was forced to sleep in the cold shed for the night.
She dragged him to the stove, and up on to the step stool in front of it. "You better pay attention, Freak."
Then proceeded to show him what she expected for him to learn, all at the same time.
How to cook the sausage just right, and make the eggs sunny side up. How to form the scotch eggs in the perfect shape, and make the bacon perfectly crispy.
There was too much to keep track of, he didn't know how he'd remember it all.
Then after she showed him everything twice, she stepped back and told him to do it.
Boy tried his hardest to do what she wanted him to. He cooked the sausage, made the eggs, and made the bacon exactly how she wanted it.
It wasn't long till his Uncle and cousin made their way downstairs, as he marveled at being able to complete everything, while plating the food.
*Inhales* "That smells wonderful pet. Why don't you come sit down, and the freak can bring everything to the table."
Boy stilled. His head was pounding something fierce, probably from the blood loss, and his arm felt like he stuck it in a oven. He didn't think he'd be able to carry all of that, without dropping something.
He didn't voice his concerns, however. He was always punished, for weakness. He didn't think that'd change any time soon.
So, carefully, he started bringing the dishes of food from the counters, to the table. It made his arm ache fiercely, but eventually, he was to the last dish.
It was one of his Aunt's pretty, expensive, bowls. Carrying the baked beans he was taught how to cook three days ago. He carefully lifted it by the rim, it was to hot to carry otherwise, and walked slowly to the table.
He was just starting to place it down next to his Uncle, when a sharp, *Crack* filled the air.
Boy jumped, started by the loud noise, letting go of the bowl he was holding. The bowl then slid across the table, flying off and landing with a loud *Crash* shattering across the floor.
Boy froze in horror. Staring at the shattered remains of the dish, he hoped this wasn't the day that he died.
Then, a few things happened at once. One, his cousin started wailing, "Mummy! The Freak did something bad again!" Two, his Aunt started shrieking like a banshee, over her broken bowl, "How dare you break my bowl, you little freak!" And three, his Uncle grabbed him by the arm, his injured one, and swung him around in the air.
"FREAK! HOW DARE YOU!? WE FEED YOU! CLOTHE YOU! BROUGHT YOU IN WHEN YOU WERE JUST AN UNWANTED BABE LEFT ON OUR PORCH, AND THIS IS THE THANKS WE GET!? YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FREAK!!" His uncle spat in at him, face turning an alarming shade of purple.
"DO YOU WANT TO DIE!? DO YOU WANT ME TO SNAP YOUR LITTLE FREAKY NECK!? I COULD KILL YOU, JUST LIKE THAT!"
Boy bit his inner cheek to keep from making any noise. It hurt. It hurt so much.
"NO ONE CARES WHAT I DO TO LITTLE FREAKS LIKE YOU! HELL, YOU COULD CALL THE PRIME MINISTER ABOUT THIS, AND NO ONE WILL CA-" *Knock. Knock. Knock.* "Mrs. Dursley? I'm here to pick up Harry."
Uncle Vernon let go of his arm so fast, you'd think it was on fire, dropping him on the floor. "Don't you dare say a thing about this to her, boy!" He spat in Boy's face, glaring at Boy, like he just said he thought magic was real.
"I'll deal with you, later!" His Uncle said, before grabbing his arm again, and dragging him to the door.
His uncle shoved him to the side, and opened the door. "He's right here, Misses Figg. Be careful though, he has a terrible habit of lying to get attention. Even hurts himself sometimes, to try to get out of doing something."
"I'm sure I can handle him, Mr Dursley, he's only four." She looks down at him, "Come along Harry." She said before she turned around, and walked toward her house.
'Harry?' Boy wonders, following after her. 'Is that supposed to be my name? I thought freaks didn't deserve names?'
They walked in silence. Before she asked a question, that is. "Do you have any allergies? I breed cats, so there's a lot of cat hair in my house. Do you know if you have any food allergies?"
Boy thought about the questions. He didn't think he was allergic to cats. He wasn't sneezing or anything when he pet that stray cat, that visits the yard. And he hasn't come across a food that really effects him. Not that he has a variety, that is.
He usually only eats stale bread, and cold watery soup.
"No." He answered quietly, as they arrived on her porch.
"That's good." She replied, and swung open the door. "Come along now, Harry. You can watch something on the telly, if you like. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
'There's that name again,' Boy thought. 'Why does she keep calling me that?'
"No, I haven't eaten yet." He said, following her to the living room. "Well, I'll go make us some food. The remote is on the telly, pick whatever you want." She said before turning and leaving the room.
Boy stared after her for a second, before turning to the telly. There were no less than three cats on or around the telly. Three. Big. Cats.
Sighing, he reached over a couple cats, pressing the power button on the telly.
Sitting down on the floor in front of it, he watched as the commercials played across the screen.
Why anyone would need something like a carrot made of pewter, was beyond him.
Maybe some people liked to collect weird stuff?
Then, a number showed on the screen. Apparently a lot of weird stuff has happened in the last few decades, and they set up a number that's close to the Prime Minister, for if you see something unexplainable.
...
'Well, if this doesn't work, it doesn't work.' Boy thought, memorizing the number, 'But if it does work, that means maybe I can escape the Dursleys.'
After memorizing the number, Boy quietly stood up, and walked to the phone on a small table.
Picking up the phone, he put the number in like how he saw his Aunt did yesterday.
Bringing it to his ear, he heard, *ring, ring, ring*. He really hoped Misses Figg doesn't hear it too.
*ring, ring, ring.* {Hello, you've reached the emergency weird stuff hotline, how may I help you?}
Boy froze. He hadn't really thought of how he would say it, if they answered him.
He heard a *thwack* and a low, hissed, 'Doctor! You weren't supposed to answer that!' On the other side.
"Um, can I talk to the Prime Minister? My uncle said that no one cares about me, not even the prime minister, so I want to prove him wrong."
*silence* {What's your name, and how old are you kid?}
"I don't have a name. Uncle said freaks don't deserve names. And I'll be five at the end of the month."
He couldn't be sure, but he thought there was a, 'Bloody hell', hissed by the same voice as before.
{Why do they call you that, kid?}
"Because of the freakish stuff I do. At least, that they say I do."
{Like what?}
"Well..." Boy thought back to last month.
"Aunt petunia shaved off all my hair last month. I didn't like it. But when I woke up the next day, all my hair was back again! I wasn't allowed any food for a week afterward though.."
{Kid... If you tell me where you are, I'll come get you, okay? You'll never have to see your..family.. Again. Okay kid?}
Boy couldn't believe his ears. Someone believed him! Someone is going to come and take him away! He, he won't have to go back to the Dursleys!!
"Y-yes!! I-I live at number four privet drive in surrey! I am at Mrs Figg's house right now though. I-I don't remember the number.."
{That's okay kid, I know where you are. Just stay there, and I'll come get you.}
Boy's vision got blurry as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Okay.."
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There's a small *click* as the call ends.
*thwack* Rose hits him over the head a second time.
"You can't be serious!! What are we gonna do with a kid!? An abused four year old no less!?"
He rubs the throbbing back of his head.
"I can't just leave him there! If my assumption is correct, that is not a human child that just called. Or at least, not fully human. A colony of Warlivk was established on earth a few thousand years ago. When they, and all the creatures they brought, disappeared during the witch hunts, I had assumed they left earth, and returned to their planet. It seems they either went into hiding instead, or the boy is a descendant of one that stayed behind. Either way, I can't just leave him in that situation."
"Ugh.." Rose pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Fine. I just hope you know what you are doing, Doctor."
The Doctor grinned at Rose, and waved goodbye to Donna, who had her head in her hands.
"Always. Allons-y!"
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Aria_Ajin
Aria_Ajin [I posted this on Ao3 as well, but I can't access Ao3 because my internet company blocked it. So It has a different name since I can't remember what I named it. Just putting this note here so no one reports me for stealing my own work.]
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