Chapter Text
Harry dragged his suitcase down the rough pavement. The loud rumbling of wheels bound to wake the entire street up. He kept his head bowed, kicking a rock along and watched it bounce a few metres ahead of him before kicking it again. He turned away from each passing car, almost ashamed of the swelling and developing bruises on his face. His cracked glasses glinted against the glow of the headlights
It was so stupid.
He had come back before 10pm, ages before Dudley’s usual curfew. Still, what did he find when he walked up the path leading up to the door of number four Privet Drive? His belongings, strewn across the grass and flower patches and a beaten old suitcase tossed by the steps. He banged on the door, shouting to his aunt and uncle, asking what was going on.
Vernon swung open the door and screamed at Harry for making a racket. Harry shouted back. It wasn’t fair. It was his birthday for fuck’s sake, god forbid a guy go out to celebrate. He used his own money and texted Petunia that he’d be back later. Vernon had none of it and smacked Harry across the face, knocking him to the ground, cursing up a storm and screaming for the boy to leave.
He slammed the door with a bang
Harry sat there on the stone, surrounded by the few belongings he had in life. Hand me down clothes, tattered textbooks, his cracked laptop. He bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly stood up and started packing his life up.
They had thrown out everything from his room, although not a lot, so Harry struggled to put it all away into the suitcase. He noticed the box he kept under his bed wasn’t there. The box where he kept all his spare cash. Harry glanced up to the door and deliberated whether it was worth it to break in and get it. He thought against it. He still had his card and phone.
The Dursleys were all absolute pricks, Harry slept in the cupboard under the stairs before he mentioned it to a teacher in primary school and the police came over with a lady from children’s services. Harry was then moved to Dudley’s second bedroom after a beating from Vernon.
The last thing he places in the suitcase is an old deer stuffed toy, discarded over Petunia’s hydrangeas. Harry can’t remember when he got it, probably some Christmas back in reception, but he’d kept it all this time. He likes to think it’s something his parents gave him, one of the last tethers to a normal life that could have been. He never got any toys from the Dursleys. He only started celebrating his birthday once he reached secondary school where Dudley couldn’t spread nasty rumours about him since Petunia’s precious son was sent to public school. Harry went to a regular old state school forty five minute train ride from Privet Drive. He achieved the GCSE requirements to carry onto sixth form, which he was supposed to start next month.
He didn’t know what to do.
Dragging the suitcase along the pavement, he pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket and texted his mates. ‘They should still be up’, Harry thought, the party only ended less than an hour ago.
[Sox On]
Harry
Just got kicked out
Anyone got a couch i can crash on?
Barely a minute later and the group chat is already buzzing alive.
[Sox On]
Earon
Lol what you do
Josh
Homeless behaviour
Mateo
Didn’t you just leave the party lol?
Were you acc that sloshed?
Josh
Nahh he barely drank anything
[attached photo of Harry grimacing after sipping from a pint of beer]
Harry
Guys im serious
Earon
Thats so sad for you
Mohammad
Wait whats happening
Josh
Haz is homeless
At the ripe old age of 17
The lot of them continued bashing him. Harry stopped by a low wall, propped his suitcase against it and leant against it. He was tempted to call them a bunch of immature idiots. He was technically supposed to be in year 13 but was held back a year since Vernon simply didn’t send him to Primary for year 1. He was used to being bullied by his friends for being the older one and accused of being stupid. His grades didn’t really help him with that.
Fortunately, a flicker of hope was granted to him this evening.
[Mateo]
Mateo
Hey Haz
Asked mum and she said you can crash here
Harry let out a sigh of relief. Scratching the back of his neck and typed his response into the dm.
[Mateo]
Harry
Thanks mate
Life saver
This isn’t the way i planned my bday tbh
Mateo
Lol
Fairs
But dw
Mum loves you
Starting to think more than she loves me
:(
Harry
Hahajha
Mateo
You didn't deny it
anyway
Need me to give you a ride?
I can send a Uber
Harry
its fine
Only a 20 min walk
Mateo
Alr
I’ll get the air mattress out then
Also
When mum asks
I didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol tonight ;)
Harry
Obv
Harry slid his phone back into his pocket and started wheeling himself and his suitcase toward the main road. Some part of Harry knew it would be Mateo to give him a chance. One of the first friends he made in Year 7 and stuck together in the same form for the next five years. They made it into the school football team in Year 9, Mateo making captain in Year 10. He even got an offer from Hampton Football team in London. Harry also got an offer but Vernon would never allow it.
‘Guess he doesn’t have much of a say in it now’, Harry smiles to himself. Even in this situation there are the upsides. He can only hope the walk to Mateo’s will feel shorter now.
He paused by the curb, looking both ways down the road. He steps onto the tarmac.
A loud honk sounded through the air, two white lights blind Harry temporarily, speeding toward him.
As Harry is rammed into by the vehicle, flying through the air, the only thing he can think of is ‘why is that bus purple?’
His head hit the ground with a crack.
-~<>~-
Harry woke up with a splitting headache and blurry vision, but the latter is because of his missing glasses. He groaned, pushing himself up. Strangely, though, instead of hard tarmac, his hand pushed down on soft sheets, a mattress squeaking underneath.
Harry slowly moves a hand through his hair over the spot that hit the ground, he flinches from a sudden throb and pulls his hand away. He looks around the room. White tiles, a half closed curtain around the bed, other beds lined across the room. A hospital most likely, but there were no machines or drips.
“Fuck..” Harry grumbled, sitting up full now and leaning his back against the fluffy pillow.
Where the fuck was he? This didn’t look like A&E. The NHS can’t afford to keep this many beds empty.
He heard footsteps and a pair of voices. The curtain gets pulled aside. Two blurry figures in what looks like long lab coats appear.
“Ah, awake now,” a man’s voice says, “how are you feeling?”
“Urm, shit not going to lie,” Harry squints, trying to focus on the pair’s faces, “Sorry, urm, I lost my glasses and I my eyes are kind of crap,”
“Here, love,” a woman’s voice speaks now and a pair of glasses appear on Harry’s face. He doesn’t see her reach up to place them on him.
The woman had blond hair in a short bob, pale skin and obnoxiously bright red lipstick on her soft smile. The man had more tanned skin, a clean shaven face and dark slicked back hair. Harry notes that they are not in fact wearing lab coats but what seem to be what Harry could only describe as long white robes. Stuff he’d seen historical figures from east Asia or something.
“Thanks,” Harry mumbles, adjusting the glasses and trying not to let his judgement reach his face.
“I am Healer Fernsby, this is my assistant Miss Taylor,” the man nods to the woman at his side, “You’re currently within the medical ward at the Ministry, transferred here from St Mungo’s,” Harry’s brow furrowed, never heard of that hospital before. “Do you know your name?”
“Err, Harry,”
Fernsby continued, “and can you tell me what date it is, Harry?”
‘Just like in the movies’ Harry internally smiled, “July 31st?”
“You were found unconscious at around 11 o’clock last night. It is currently 8 o’clock in the morning, 2st of August,”
“Sorry for the trouble, but I should go,” Harry moved to get up.
Taylor gently pushed him back down with a soft, “easy there, love, we’re not done here yet,”
“Urm–” Harry started but was then interrupted.
“Can you tell me if you remember how you got hurt?” Fernsby asked.
“I was hit by a bus,” Harry sighed, starting to get frustrated, “I was on the way to my friend’s house.”
The two medics gave each other a strange look.
“What?” Harry asked.
“I’m sorry, love, it’s only… you were found in a forest,” Taylor responded hesitantly.
Harry let his confusion show. “What?” he repeated, “how?”
“That is what we were going to ask,” a voice interrupted the conversation.
Three men in black cloaks over suits swept in from the doorway. The man in the centre wore one of those hats that looked like a cowboy hat, but Harry knew it wasn't, and had a very serious expression on his face. The two men on either side of him looked slightly younger but they were all at least thirty years old, the left with slicked back bronze hair and the right with curly blonde.
“Thank you, Fernsby, we’ll take it from here,” the middle man said to the doctor.
“Mr Sallow, I understand but we are not finished with our checks,” Fernsby tried to explain.
“Move, Fernsby,” the man on Sallow’s left grunted, “D.O.M matters,”
“He is my patient–”
“Enough,” Sallow raised his hand in dismissal and Fernsby shut up immediately. Harry watched, slightly alarmed. He could only really sit there awkwardly.
Miss Taylor quickly turned back around to Harry and handed him a small vial with a muted blue colour in a hurried whisper, “drink this, Harry, it will help with the pain, I doubt the Unspeakables will give you any relief.”
“Move, woman,” the blonde grabbed her by the arm and pulled Taylor away. Harry’s eyes widened at the blatant aggression.
Sallow moved to Harry’s bedside and picked up a beige coloured piece of paper and scanned over it. He turned to the boy and gave him a once over. Harry felt severely judged.
“Take him away,” he ordered the two men.
Harry was unceremoniously pulled out from the bed, ribs throbbing and knees creaking as he stood up, barefoot. He was still in his baggy jeans and hoodie but his shoes were nowhere to be seen. Same as his suitcase.
“Hey, come on, what’s going on?” Harry demanded through winces of pain. His feet thudded against the cold floor, a man on either side, dragging him along by the elbows, Sallow leading the way. “Fuck,” he groaned, another wave of pain beating through his head. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ he sighed, bringing the vial Taylor gave him up to his lips and downed it, trying not to spill any of it as he was hauled out of the room. It had a similar consistency as custard and tasted oddly like dates. And, as if my magic, the sharp pain throughout his body suddenly dulled. Still, he gagged slightly at the concoction. He tried not to think about what sort of chemicals they put in the thing for such fast effects.
He was pulled down a long corridor that was majorly grey, turned a corner, then another. The three men did not reply to any of his questions or complaints. Was it too much to ask what was going on? He was injured! The doctor had said!
They reached a lift at the end of a corridor, if you could even call it that. It was a rickety thing with those grated walls made of metal, making them look like ornate cages. Harry had only seen this style before in photos when Josh had visited his Grandad’s century old house in Italy.
The four entered it, the bronze haired man pulling a complicated looking lever. A series of cricks and rattles sounded, making Harry tense.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sudden drop.
Harry had been on plenty of dropper rides in passing fairs or theme parks. He’d been to Thorpe Park and Chessington plenty of times with his mates, but that was in a very controlled and secure situation. This lift ride felt like a free fall.
Harry was practically limp when the lift came to a halt, the men literally dragged him along this time.
He honestly felt he was starting to see things because of that plummet, but Harry swore he saw an owl flying down the hall. He couldn’t get a second look when they took another turn.
The corridors grew darker. Wood panelled walls slowly morphed to black brick, their footsteps echoed for what felt like hours. The temperature seemed to drop the deeper they went in. Harry was convinced his toes would freeze off soon.
They finally stopped in front of a set of large doors, practically blended into the wall. Harry was sure he would have missed it if not for the sign carved into the bricks above it.
TIME
They entered.
About ten minutes later, after more walking and more halls, Harry was finally dumped into a dark room with a metal table in the centre, two chairs on one side, one chair on the other.
“Wait, are you the police?” Harry asked, baffled. He was pushed down onto the single chair by the blonde.
“Thank you, Rohan,” Sallow thanked him and sat down on one of the chairs opposite, the legs scraping against the tiles floors with a jarring screech which Harry grimaced to.
The bronze haired man took the remaining seat and the blonde, Rohan, took a stand by the door they entered by.
‘Definitely the police then’, Harry shook his head to himself. What did he do? Not like he ran away from the Dursleys. Did someone in the bus get hurt? Harry swallowed and hesitantly met the eyes of the men in front of him.
There was a tense moment as Sallow adjusted himself, taking off his robe and hat and running a hand through his dark thinning hair. He coughed into a closed fist, clearing his throat before finally addressing Harry.
“Apologies for the abrupt meeting, lad, urgent business you understand,” Sallow explained almost conversationally. Harry sat, silent, eyeing the man suspiciously. “I am Lawrence Sallow, Head of the D.O.M here at the Ministry. This is Mr Dunn, specialist in the Time sector,” he nods to the man beside him, “And that there is Auror Rohan,” the blonde just glares at Harry, “We just need to ask you a few questions, lad, standard procedure,”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Harry interrupts, brow furrowed, “you said a lot of words I didn’t understand there. Where am I? How big is this place? We took, like, fifty bloody turns to get to this tiny ass room,”
“We’d appreciate it if you could mind your language,” Sallow scorned, “Now, it is understandable to have many questions. How about you answer some of ours, and we will answer yours in turn?”
“Not until you tell me why I’m here,” Harry snapped, Mateo was probably losing his shit not and Harry didn’t even have his phone on him, “don’t I get a phone call or something? A lawyer?” He didn't actually know how much movies translated to real life. “Isn't it illegal to keep underage kids here without a guardian?”
Sallow and Dunn exchanged a look and Harry heard Rohan scoff in the back.
“Lad, this is a serious case, the Minister himself is getting involved–”
“What, Starmer? Why?”
Sallow sighed, placing his hands on the table, one finger tapping on the metal top. “Lad, around 12 hours ago a highly volatile artifact disappeared from the time sector of the D.O.M, then two hours later, you appear on heavily warded grounds with the magical signature all over you,”
“English, please, and what, magic?” Harry stared at them baffled, “what the actual fuck is going on?”
“Sallow, maybe–” Dunn turned to the other man in a half whisper.
“What’s your name, lad?” Sallow asked, the tapping of his finger stopped.
“Harry,” Harry answers.
“Got a family name?”
“Potter,”
The three men stilled for a moment, another exchanged glance. Rohan scoffed with a muttered,
“Never knew Fleamont had another kid,” from the back
“Right then, Mr Potter,” Sallow said, “can you explain why we found those signatures on you?”
“I don’t know! I was just on the way to my mate’s house and was hit by a bloody bus,” Harry raised his hands, exasperated.
“Mr Potter, you were found on the boundary of the Forbidden Forest along the Black Lake in the Hogwarts Region, not only is it heavily warded but the Knight Bus has no access there,” Dunn explained, “the only way you could have appeared there without anyone seeing you in the surrounding area was if you used a powerful magical artifact, like the one missing from my office.”
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you guys, you’re speaking rubbish. If this is some elaborate prank show I’m not having it, if you can’t already tell, I’ve had a pretty shitty day,” Harry snapped, banging a hand down on the table, “I have no idea where this Hogwash place is, I live in Surrey, that’s where I was hit. And you’re refusing to tell me where I am right now. Unless this is some secret bunker, I know for a fact this isn’t 10 Downing Street.”
Sallow’s brow furrowed along with Dunn’s. The second man leant to the first and muttered something to him. Sallow frowned before meeting Harry’s eyes.
“Harry, you are at the Ministry of Magic in London,” he said slowly and clearly.
“The what?” it was Harry’s turn to furrow his brow.
Dunn whispered something again to Sallow.
“You can leave us Rohan,” Sallow said with a nod. The blonde left, the door clicking behind him.
“Mr Potter…who are you parents?” Dunn asked.
“Why do you need to know that?” Harry returned the question
“Answer, lad,” Sallow sighed.
“Lily and James Potter,” Harry bit, a lump forming in his throat. He heard Dunn whisper about never hearing of those names before. ‘Why would you know my parents?’ Harry wanted to snide.
“Harry, you are currently a person of interest and number one suspect in this case.” Sallow states, “the results will impact your legal records and rights so we need you to answer truthfully.”
Harry gave a reluctant nod.
“Good lad, now, we found some… strange objects on your person,” Sallow said, gesturing a hand to Dunn who pulled some photos from an inner pocket from within the blazer under his cloak. He spread them out on the table. Black and white photos of Harry’s opened suitcase, objects neatly ordered with papers next to them numbering them. Like a bloody crime scene. But this isn’t what made Harry’s eyes widen. The photos moved. Like those live shots you can take on phones, except printed. He could see the flash of the camera in the shot and the slight shift of movement as whoever held it moved.
“Holy shit, how does that work?” Harry moved a hand to brush the photo of his phone, the left top corner of the screen cracked.
“You tell us, Harry,” Sallow shrugged, “This… thing was where we expected to find your wand,”
“No, not my phone, Christ," Harry gave him a brief glance, “the photo, how is it moving?”
“Lawrence …” Dunn urged.
“And wait, back track, wand?” Harry looked back up at them, “what like, Bibity Bobity Boo? Cinderella shit?” he let out a chuckle, “fuck, is this a show I’ve never heard about, like, magic police or something?”
Dunn and Sallow stared blankly at Harry.
“Where were these taken? I kinda want my stuff back, you know,” Harry turned his attention back to the photos of his belongings, “how much was broken? I’m pretty sure I flew when I got hit,”
“Mr Potter,” Dunn interrupted, “You… do have a wand, yes?”
“Why the fuck would I have a wand mate, I wasn’t told anything about this,” Harry didn’t look up, instead holding one of the photos, the stuffed deer, “are these like, paper thin screens or something? How can you make this move?”
“Lawrence , he’s not a… is he?” Dunn turned to Sallow, “maybe the artifact altered some memories or…”
Sallow shook his head gravely, “I think it’s something more than that…”
Harry leaned back in his chair and threw the photo back across the table, “can I leave now? I don’t want to miss the first day back,”
Sallow quickly looked back at him, “How old are you, lad?”
“Just turned seventeen, yesterday was my birthday,”
“Starting seventh year then? Rotten luck to get into this so soon into adulthood,” Sallow put on a conversational tone which Harry decided to go along with.
“Adulthood? Not there yet, still got a year.” Harry scoffed, “and seventh year? Urm, you mean year 13? If so, then no. I got held back a year, just starting A-levels. Supposed to, anyway.”
“Harry, you are of age,” Dunn said.
“Nah, I’m seventeen,”
“Seventeen is the age of adulthood, Harry” Sallow tried to clarify.
“No? Unless I wasn’t told about the new law, then I’d feel less bad about drinking last night,”
“Harry, what does the Statute of Secrecy mean to you?” Dunn asked slowly.
“Urm, is that a law or something? I didn’t take citizenship GCSE,” Harry shrugged.
Sallow let out a loud sigh and patted Dunn on the shoulder, “one moment, lad, we need to discuss something,” Sallow got up and Dunn followed.
They shut the door before Harry could ask another question.
Harry swung his legs under the table, rapping his fingers on the metal. This was a very elaborate prank. Convincing actors, great set design, well hidden cameras. Harry almost believed it was all real. He looked back down to the photos, each frame moving slightly.
He glanced over to the hat Sallow left behind. He picked it up, hands moving around the rim of the good quality fabric. Harry flipped it over and looked into the headspace. On the inside, there was a sewn in fabric label. There was Lawrence Sallow stitched in with silver thread, below, was presumably the shop name, wrote Gladrag’s Wizardwear est. 1750. What Harry really raised an eyebrow at was the date the hat was made, 1939.
Damn that was a relic.
He set it down carefully. Ah, wait, it was a fedora. Harry smiled at himself, proud for remembering the name of the hat. He remembered seeing it in the Oppenheimer film, Mateo’s grandad owned one as well.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open and all three men entered the room.
Harry sat up straight, for whatever reason, tense.
“Get up, lad,” Sallow walked over, picking up his hat and cloak, putting them both on, “we need to get some paperwork done,”
“Why do I need to come?” Harry asked, still standing up anyway.
“Formalities, mostly,” Sallow replied.
This time, Harry was not dragged down the halls. He was allowed to walk, although Rohan and Dunn were still on either side of him.
“Are we going on that death lift again?” Harry grumbled when they turned a corner and said lift was in his sights.
Sallow gave a low chuckle, “never heard that one before, you should be apparating at this age now,”
Harry didn’t bother asking what apparating was.
This time, the lift shot up. Harry’s knees trembled when he stepped out. His stomach groaned in protest as they continued their walk. He guessed it was better than a hundred flights of stairs, but, Jesus, how big was this place?
The area they walked through was much lighter than the previous. The hall was arched with red bricks, reminding Harry of the shape of Victoria station. Candles lit the walls and casted a warm glow throughout the hall.
Harry was surprised to see he was right in thinking he saw an owl earlier. He watched open mouthed as the birds flew overhead with what seemed to be envelopes in their claws. Still bare in feet, he was worried of standing on shit but the marble floors were spotless, albeit cold.
They finally enter a door that does not lead them to another corridor. It seemed to be a waiting room of sorts. A high ceiling and dark wood panelled walls with seats lined on the left and right sides. There’s two doors at the end of the room, a desk between them with an ancient looking man sitting there. Harry felt uncomfortable just looking at him, shrivelled skin that sagged and blindingly white hair, his hands shook as he wrote using an extravagant quill.
“Take a seat lad,” Sallow offered a smile, “Rohan, come with me,” The two men walked over to the old man at the desk.
Harry gratefully took the opportunity and sat down, the wooden chair creaking softly beneath him. He lifted up his feet and flexed his toes, groaning slightly when the early onset of a cramp creeped in on his right arch.
Dunn, who stood just in front of Harry, only now noticed the boy was bare foot. “Oh, Merlin, how could I forget.”
Harry watched with a raised eyebrow as the man pulled out a long thin stick from his pocket and what appeared to be two cigars. He placed the cigars in the palm of his hand and pointed the stick toward them. With a bit of a swish and mumbled words, Harry’s jaw dropped as the cigars transformed into a pair of shoes before his eyes.
“Here,” Dunn set the pair in front of Harry’s feet, “can’t have you walking in there like that,”
Harry just stared at the man in bafflement. Was that miracle drug Taylor gave him finally kicking in with the dodgy side effects, he knew it was too good to be true.
“Potter, Dunn,” Sallow called from the end of the room, “they’re ready,”
Dunn nodded and looked to Harry, “Look,” he sighed, “only speak when spoken to, keep your back straight and mind your language,”
“Who’s ready?” Harry asked quietly, putting on the shoes while inspecting them.
“A few council members, won’t be too many, too short of a notice to get a proper hearing,”
“Hearing?” Harry stood up.
“Formalities, Potter,” Dunn brushed it aside.
The two walked over to Sallow and Rohan, the old man at the desk giving Harry a very judgemental side eye. Rohan opened the door to the left.
Harry stepped through and swallowed.