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Fear was one of the only emotions Harry knew growing up, he didn’t really have a chance to know anything else.
He felt fear when his Uncle would get angry and start throwing him around, making sure he had plenty of bruises the next day to remind him to act normal, to
be
normal.
He felt fear when Aunt Petunia would scream in his face, telling him over and over that he was a freak, just like his mother.
He felt fear when his Aunt went silent, giving him the silent treatment, no matter how much he begged her to look at him, to love him.
He felt fear when Dudley would walk in his direction with his friends, ready to ‘play games’ with Harry. Which in reality was just Dudley beating him up until he got bored and whined for his mom to give him dessert early.
When Hagrid arrived and promised Harry that he would be safe at Hogwarts, he believed him. That was the very first time Harry felt
true
happiness, the first time he felt warm inside with a tingling feeling that he never wanted to let go. He truly thought he would be safe, that he would never have to feel fear again,
only
happiness.
What a pitiful thought that was.
Of course
he wouldn’t be safe at Hogwarts, he was Harry fucking Potter, the freak who ruined everything. The freak who never feels any emotion other than
fear
. It was like a cycle, a pitiful one at that.
He would feel happy, then an adult would promise that he ‘would never feel fear again’,
then
he would be forced into a position by that
same
adult, a position that caused fear to circle through his body replacing the feeling of happiness like a taunt. It happened over and over and over and over and over and
over and over
and over
.
What made it so much worse, was that he kept trusting the same adult
Every. Single. Damn. Time.
and each time
without
fail,
the cycle repeated
.
When Dumbledore told him he would have to die in order to defeat Voldemort, he wasn’t surprised. Instead he laughed, he laughed so hard that he started to cry which then turned his already hysterical laughing into gut wrenching sobs. The only thought on his mind was that the cycle was repeating again. It never stopped repeating.
He remembers his last thoughts during his final battle with Voldemort, ‘If i am to die, then may Death be kinder than the curse that haunted my living days, may Death stop this never ending cycle of fear and
finally
let me rest in peace.’ he remembers hearing Voldemort's last words as well ‘
Avracadavra!
’ then silence.
Well, not
complete
silence. There was a constant buzzing sound that never seemed to stop. But silence nonetheless.
It felt nice, not having to hear constant nagging from others. Expecting
him
,
a fucking
child
, to fix every little thing for them. For him to be their god damn
savior
, even though they were all
much more
capable to defeat Voldemort than
him
due to them all being
grown ass
adults
.
Harry took a deep breath of the cold air, his shoulders sagging in relief, he couldn’t help but think that it kind of felt like he was floating. Wait-
Floating
?
Harry opened his eyes, slightly surprised to see nothing but darkness. Where
is
he? Is this
really
what it’s like to be dead? Huh. It’s not like he’s complaining or anything, it’s nice, just not what he was expecting.
A hollow, haunting, voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Comforting, isn’t it?”
Harry swerves in a circle, his eyes attempting to locate the body of the voice. A laugh similar to a cackle echoes around him, causing his heart beat to quicken.
“I assume you’re trying to find little old me,
correct
?” Harry nods, still not quite sure where to look or what was even happening. The person hums, before going quiet again.
Harry gulps, his saliva having to fight the bulky lump that had formed in his throat on the way down. “Would it make you feel more…
comfortable
if I had a physical form?” He moves his head to nod in agreement, it was a bit
awkward
talking to someone you can’t see, you have no idea where to set your eyes or which direction to face.
Harry lets out a strangled gasp when a figure suddenly appears to his left, just barely in his peripheral vision. The figure in front of him had a masculine physique, he wore muggle clothing and had messy black hair. He had red eyes that looked hollow, like there was no life inside them, that instead of being used for sight they were being used as decoration.
The man’s skin complexion was pale almost like his body has never seen the light of day. The man smiles at him, and because of his lifeless eyes, Harry can’t quite tell if it’s a genuine smile or an empty one made to comfort him. Harry returned a small smile, it was the polite thing to do no matter which smile the man was wearing.
When the hollow voice spoke again, it was weirder than before. Mostly due to the normal looking body not fitting the creepy voice. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Harry. I’ve been waiting
quite
a long time, although.. I would not have minded to wait a
bit
longer due to your
circumstances
.” Harry could tell he was talking about him dying at only 17 years old. Witches and Wizards were expected to live until their hundreds.
Which is why many people would consider his life a short one. Apparently even Death.
“Er, yea…I
also
would not have..
minded
waiting longer to meet..you..” Wow. Way to go Harry. Not awkward
at all
. It became clear that Death
also
picked up on the awkwardness, as he gave Harry a pitiful smile. Which definitely wasn’t creepy and uncanny. At all.
“It’s not your time to die yet, Harry. You don’t belong here.” What? No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO! This can’t be fucking happening to him. He can’t go back- He can’t go through all that pain again! He can’t- No. He won’t go back!
“Calm down.” Harry’s head snaps up to look Death in the face, making eye contact with his cold dead eyes. “Why?
Why
should I calm down!?
You’re
the one that’s going to send me back to that fucking
hell hole!
” Harry
never
wanted to cry more than he did right now, he was finally free from the never ending cycle. But now he has to go
back
?
That’s not
fair
.
Nothing
about this was fair!
Death watches him carefully, “Stop having a tantrum. I’m not sending you back. Or at Least not in the same time frame.” Harry sucks in a shaky breath, staring at Death warily with wide eyes, almost like he was expecting Death to tell him a second later that he was joking.
“What-..What do you
mean
?” He asked carefully, clearly trying to choose his words wisely. If Death
wasn’t
joking, then Harry needed to be polite so he wouldn’t get offended and change his mind.
“I’ll send you
back
in time. Preferably when Tom Riddle- or Voldemort as he prefers to be called, went to Hogwarts.” Harry stared at him horrified. Death wanted to do
what
? “Um- Not to be rude or anything. But..
why
? What’s the
point
?”
Death tilts his head, watching Harry amusingly. “The
point
, Harry. Is for you to
stop
Riddle from ever becoming Voldemort. Or don’t. I don’t care.” He said with a smile. “This is your
second chance
. You want to stop Voldemort? do it. You want to ignore him and just live a new life? Okay, your choice! This is about what
you
want, Harry.”
Harry laughs. He
fucking
laughs
so hard
he starts to
cry.
He doesn’t laugh because it’s funny or amusing, he laughs at how sad he felt. “I think-” he pauses to let out a breathless giggle. “I think this is the
first time
something is about what
I
want. The first time someone actually wanted
MY
opinion! Oh my
God
! That’s so fucking
sad
!” His laughing begins to turn hysterical and his face feels soaking wet from the amount of crying he’s doing.
By the time he’s finally calmed down from his breakdown, he feels fucking
exhausted
. “Okay.” Death raises an eyebrow at the short answer. “
Really
? No questions, no objections, just
‘Okay’
?” Harry moves his head in a sharp nod. Honestly he’s just too tired to argue anymore, plus it’s not a bad deal. He doesn’t
have
to stop Tom, he can just..live. Normally. Not as
the boy who lived
. Or
Harry Potter the savior of the magical world
. Just..Harry.
Death sticks out his hand expectantly, “Do you agree to the terms of your reincarnation, Harry?”
He doesn’t hesitate to shake Death's hand, why would he? He’s already made up his mind.
Death grins as black dots start to invade Harry’s eyesight, he leans forward to whisper in his ear. “
May this life be kinder than your last
.”
Harry gasps as everything goes dark.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His body feels heavy when he finally gains consciousness, he opens his eyes but quickly regrets it when the sun directly above blinds him. He hisses in pain, before attempting to open his eyes again,
slower
this time. He can see the top of trees and can feel grass underneath him, he struggles to sit up at first, before attempting again with twice the amount of energy.
The first thing he notices once he is in a comfortable sitting position is that his body is
tiny
, as in child-like tin..y..oh. Well fuck. He doesn’t know how to feel about being a kid again, honestly he feels kind of numb to any emotions currently.
The second thing he notices is that he’s covered in scars and blood. God damn it. He sighs as he looks around and takes in his surroundings. And
holy shit
it does
not
look good. He was in some sort of town or village, he doesn’t really know the difference between the two.
Most of the buildings are destroyed, blown to the point where they’re just rubble. He should have mentioned first that there are dead bodies, like,
a lot
. As well as a lot of blood.
Fuck
what the
hell
happened here.
He hears the sound of paper rustling in the wind and he locates the source of the sound to be an envelope…
under him
? He turns the envelope around so he could see who it’s from.
To: Harrison Evans (Previously Harry Potter)
From: Death :)
(Read this when you wake up, it explains your cover/back story as well as explains the..
massacre
you’re probably horrified to see)
Harry glances at the name, mentally reminding himself to introduce himself as Harrison Evans to anyone who asks.
Dear Harry,
Sorry I can’t be in person to explain everything to you, I had
very
important business to attend to in France, 2017. I sincerely hope you can forgive little old me. ANYWAYS, I decided to give you a more
sophisticated
name since that was more respected back in the day. (Don’t worry I chose a name where you can still use Harry as a nickname just in case you mess up)
You may also be wondering why you’re a child again, well to answer that question! I decided to give you a chance to have a better childhood! (I know, how thoughtful of me) Now, for your backstory, you’re an 8 year old Half Blood wizard whose mother was muggle born while your father was a pure blood (I decided to keep that the same as well, once again just in case of messes ups. You’re a
pretty
clumsy guy soo can’t take too many risks)
You're from a small town in England, one that was recently attacked by
Grindelwald. Your father died while fighting, and your mother died protecting you. (I know! How original of me :3) You have no siblings since your parents only desired to have one and had no need for an heir.
I should also tell you that the date today is August 11th, 1935, Tom Riddle is 9 years old. Remember that if you want to stop him (if u don’t then ignore that ig) You don’t have any living relatives so you’re going to have to figure out your living arrangements on your own. Good luck Harry! I’ll probably check in with you in a few years, or not, I might be busy but who knows!
Death :3
Harry sighs, scrunching the letter into a paper ball after he
finally
finished reading it. “Bloody hell, he couldn’t have
tried
to help me out just a
little
with living arrangements? I’m a
child
for fucks sake.” He mutters.
He stands up with a wince before walking down a faded stone brick path. He throws the paper ball into a burning building next to him. He smiles as he watches it burn to ashes. He always found fire quite beautiful, dangerous yes, but
beautiful
nonetheless, and maybe that’s what makes it so dangerous.
His whole body freezes when he hears distant voices and footsteps,
fuck
, what should he do? Hide? Run away?
No
. All of those would make him look like he did something wrong. Which he didn’t. He just needs to look like a pitiful, traumatized child who just watched his parents and his village people die gruesome deaths. Yeah, he’ll just do that!
He stares into the fire he previously was admiring, forcing himself to think about Sirius’s death, Dumbledore’s manipulation, never getting to see his friends again. He felt tears start to run down his face but he doesn’t bother wiping them away. He needs this to be as believable as possible. The footsteps get closer, the voices though have gone quiet, and eventually a startled gasp disrupts the silence.
Someone starts to walk in his direction with a quick pace, the light weight of their footsteps suggests that they’re wearing heels.
He finally lifts his right hand to wipe away a few of his tears, leaving some behind so his act can still be convincing. A hand softly lands on his shoulder, he finches, due to instinct this time and not on purpose.
A gentle hand appears under his chin before carefully lifting his head to look at them. The woman who approached him was
beautiful
, she had dark skin, emerald green eyes, black curly hair, and gold earrings that complimented her skin just right while also showing she was of wealth. Her nails were painted black with an almond shape, and her makeup was clearly created to compliment her facial features.
Last but not least, her
outfit
, she wore a long black dress that has droopy sleeves along with a hood and a silver corset. She had pointy black heels, and she wore what looked to be expensive gold jewelry.
“Hi sweetheart, are you here alone?” she asked, her voice was soft and sweet but still a bit rough due to her accent. Harry stares at her before pointing at a lifeless, bloody body that he found looked suspiciously
too
similar to his original mom. Most likely the work of Death.
The woman's eyes widened in realization, before looking behind her at a man who Harry
just now
realized was here. Oops. They communicated silently with each other through facial expressions, the woman’s hand still on his chin.
Eventually they came to an agreement and the woman turned to face him again. “Are you hungry little one?” Harry nodded, mostly because he wanted the woman to think he trusted her plus he
was
a
bit
hungry. Apparently time traveling makes you gain an appetite.
The woman gives him a warm smile, happy that Harry wasn’t
too
wary of her, and offers him the same hand she had on his chin. He couldn’t help but notice her hands were soft and very clearly taken well care of. The woman began to lead Harry down the path her and the man had emerged from. The two whispering to each other in a language Harry can only assume is Russian.
They walk for a while, mostly through a forest. A beautiful one at that, he could tell it hasn’t yet been corrupted by the greediness of humans. Eventually they come to a clearing with a small building in the middle, for a second Harry wonders if this is where the woman lives but realizes that’s probably incorrect. If she did, wouldn’t she visit the village often? Wouldn’t she realize he’s not familiar and thus not actually from the village?
The woman pauses, waiting for the man to unlock the door. Harry grimaces when they enter, the house smelling too much like cigars. When he looks up it seems like the woman’s not affected by the horrendous smell, at least not physically, maybe she’s used to it?
Even Though the smell makes him feel
extremely
nauseous he continues to allow the woman to lead him further into the house, until finally they arrive in a dining room of sorts.
The woman gestures for him to sit in one of the chairs, he decides to sit in a chair that resides in the middle. Not too close incase they try to attack him, but not too far so they don’t think he fears them
too
much. The woman leaves the room, most likely to get some food for him. He doesn’t know where the man went,
probably
to smoke a damn cigar.
He never really understood why people smoked, whether that be a cigar, cigarette, or a blunt of weed.
It was a bit awkward waiting alone in the room, so to try and
cure
the awkwardness, he studied the room. Mostly so he knew where the exits are so if he needs to escape he can, but also because the room looked pretty nice.
Honestly he thought that a smoker’s house would look more…horrible? Ugly? Horrendous? Those are the words that his Aunt and Uncle used to use when describing one of their neighbors houses. The guy was a smoker, and Harry’s pretty sure was also a
really
petty guy, he used to purposely blow smoke in his Aunt and Uncle's faces when they tried to be fake nice with him.
Besides being petty, the guy was pretty nice. Harry remembers when he was 7 and the guy snuck him a bag of sweets on Halloween after overhearing his Aunt yell that halloween was for freaks. That was his first time having actual sweets instead of old granny candy from Ms.Figgs.
The dining room he’s in isn’t huge by any means, but it’s not tiny either. It’s also well decorated, or at least in
his
opinion. The table cloth under him had beautiful embroidery of flowers, mostly of purple wisterias.
There was a shelf filled with expensive looking statues sitting on the wall in front of him. Even from where he sat he could see the tiny movements they made, not surprising since most wizards get animated statues all the time.
He was only able to make out what two out of all six of the figurines were, a
lion
and a
snake
. Huh. How ironic.
“They’re magnificent aren’t they? Albert informed me that he bought them in France three years ago from a
beautifully
talented sculptor.”
The woman had returned but now she was holding a cup and a bowl. “Hopefully you like cabbage, it’s the base of
Shchi.” She flashes a warm smile as she carefully sets both the dishes down in front of him. He peeks at the bowl, confused about what it is. Clearly it's a soup with
cabbage
as the…
base
?
He decides to peek at what the drink is instead, not wanting to accidentally make a face at the soup and offend the nice woman. The drink was a nice yellow which told him immediately that it was tea, just not what kind.
The woman laughs at his curiosity, “The drink is lavender tea, with a drop of honey and one cube of sugar.” Harry nods in understanding, although still a bit curious. He’s never had lavender tea before, mostly just green tea.
“The Shchi
of course
has cabbage, but it also has meat, flour, mushrooms, and some
delightful
seasonings.” Harry liked the way her accent became more pronounced when saying Shchi, for some reason it felt satisfying to hear, kind of like when you hear a loud crunch.
Harry nods his head in thanks before taking a small sip of the tea, he was glad to find that it wasn’t scorching hot but still warm. The woman must have made it first so it had time to cool.
He liked the taste of it, it tasted exactly how he thought flowers tasted like. After a few more sips of the tea, he begins to take nips at the Shchi. He was surprised to find it didn’t taste that bad, not that he thought it would, he’s just never tried it or anything close to it before.
He glances at the woman as he takes another small bite, he studies her well defined face and finally notices that her eyes are blankly staring at the wall, her face a neutral expression. She looked sort of dazed, and it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time before he realized that she was daydreaming.
Harry allows himself to space out as well while he continues to slowly make his way through the soup. It doesn’t take long before he’s cut out of his trance by the shrieking sound of metal on glass. He glances down and tries to ignore his feeling of disappointment that he’s already finished the soup.
He hears shuffling and he finally realizes that the woman’s gone, he looks around and finally locates her in the living room across the hall. She’s talking to the man from before, who he now knows is named Albert. It feels awkward again, mostly because it doesn’t feel like he belongs here, like he’s intruding on their private time.
“It has been
lovely
chatting with you Albert, but I best believe me and the boy should be leaving. It's getting late and I still have some things to take care of.” Albert nods his head in agreement. “I
absolutely
agree. Callie! I
do
hope you have enjoyed your visit.” Harry couldn’t help but notice his voice sounded a bit similar to Dumbledore’s, or maybe he just thinks that because they’re both old men.
Callie politely hugs him before walking in Harry’s direction, he quickly turns around and pretends to be still drinking the tea. He hears the clacking of her footsteps stop, and a soft laugh. “You do not have to pretend little one, I saw you watching us.” His face heats up in embarrassment and he turns to face her. Her hood is back on and her expression confirms to him that she is amused by his behavior.
She slowly lowers herself in front of him, now eye level. “I’ve only now realized I’ve never told you my name, sweetheart.” She smiles. “My name is Calliope Hawthorne and I am
quite
proud to say that I am currently the head of the Noble house of Hawthorne.”
Hawthorne? Did he know a Hawthorne in the future? He doesn’t remember meeting or hearing of anyone with that last name.
Calliope doesn’t deter at his silence, instead she waits patiently, most likely for him to introduce himself as well. “My name is Harrison Evans…
But everyone just calls me Harry
.” He winces at his squeaky voice as he frantically informs her of his ‘nickname’, is this really what he sounded like when he was eight?
Calliope smiles and covers his small scrawny hands, with her soft manicured ones, “Well then,
Harry
. You can call me Callie, that’s what everyone calls me too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Callie’s voice is carried away in echoes as she speaks. “It’s been a lovely visit Albert, thank you so much for having us. I’ve left a pot of Shchi in your kitchen, it should last you a week but on the off chance that it doesn’t please let me know and I’ll bring something as soon as I can.”
Albert smiles fondly at her, “Callie
darling
, I know you’re worried about me but I’m
fine
. I can still take care of myself, you know?” Callie sighs, before copying his smile, although hers is a bit more sad. “I know you can, but
please
remember that you’re still grieving and sometimes that can affect your health, both
mentally
and
physically
.”
Albert sighs, he’s had this conversation almost a hundred times both with his children
and
his niece. “Callie, have you forgotten that
you
are grieving as well?”
Callie scoffs, shooting him a glare. “I am
not
grieving, my parents made their own choices,
they chose to dig their graves themselves
.” Each word she spoke was dripping in hatred. “They
don’t
deserve to be grieved. At least not by
me
.”
Albert must have realized he wasn’t going to win the fight because instead of continuing to argue with her, he turned to smile at Harry who
totally
hasn’t been pretending he doesn’t exist for the past five minutes.
He hated it when adults fought,
especially
when he’s in the room.
“How old are you, young man?” Albert asked politely and Harry couldn't help but be silently grateful that the man in front of him decided to call him ‘young man’ instead of ‘boy’. He
HATED
when old men called him that, both as his ‘name’ or just to
manipulate
him. (*Ahem* Dumbelwhore *Ahem* Uncle Vernon who looks more like a whale than a human *Ahem*)
“I’m eight sir.” He responds just as politely, the man acted nothing like Dumbeldore so he was already good in his book. Albert’s smile widens, “What a coincidence! I have a granddaughter who’s only a year older than you!” He turns back to Callie, “maybe we can schedule a playdate for the two sometime?”
Callie raises her brow at the suggestion, she struggles to keep in a laugh as she speaks. “Albert..You
do
remember that your granddaughter lives in Russia
right
?”
Albert rolls his eyes, “
Of course
I do! But that shouldn’t stop the two from meeting!
”
He thinks intensely for a moment, before a smile so bright that one might think that the old man won the damn lottery. “Every year we have a family reunion on the week of Yule, luckily enough
I
am hosting the reunion this year! The two can meet then! Along with everyone else!”
Callie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. She clears her throat trying to play off her shock, “Well- Um,
Alright,
I suppose we’ll be there.”
She drapes her right arm over her torso and bows politely, honestly Harry was impressed at how clean it was, not even a small tremble. “Thank you kindly for your invite, Mr. Featherington.”
Albert copies her movement, an amused glint in his eyes being the only clue to Harry that the change in conversation wasn’t the reason he thought. The man knew
exactly
how to better Callie’s mood without her immediately knowing and getting even more upset. They must have known each other for a long time.
It kind of reminds him of his friendship with Hermione, he remembers doing the exact same thing when she was upset or angry. (He misses her so damn much.)
Callie turns back to Harry, a smile now resting on her face. “Have you ever used a floo by yourself before, sweetheart?” she asks.
He has, but he
probably
shouldn’t tell her that. Not many witches or wizards allow their kids to use a floo before they turn ten. Many were too scared that their kids would mispronounce the name of their desired location and end up somewhere dangerous. (Even when he was
older
than ten he still made that mistake.) “
No
..but I’ve used one with my Momma and Papa before!”
Bloody fucking hell
it felt creepy for him to say that, but he
needs
to be convincing. It was either this or sleeping outside. And there is no way in
hell
he was sleeping outside in the cold with wild animals.
“That’s fine love, we’ll go together” She takes Harry’s right hand in her left, and uses her right to take a small handful of floo powder from Albert. “Hawthorne Manor!” She throws the powder into the fireplace in front of them and pulls Harry to follow.
Harry nearly falls to his knees when they exit the floo, the only reason he doesn’t is due to Callie’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” she asks, dusting both him and herself off from the ashes that strayed from the floo. “Yes, and thank you for catching me”
Callie stands back up, fixing her posture before taking his hand again. “Of course, my dear.” She smiles, leading him out an archway and down a fancy hallway full of portraits.
“
Oh my
, young man! What on earth happened to you?!” A Russian accented voice spoke, at first Harry thought it came from another person but after a quick glance around the room and not finding anyone else in the hallway he finally realized it came from a portrait, one of a sophisticated looking woman.
Her raven black hair was in a neat braided bun and she had dark skin that reminded him a bit of chocolate. She wore a dark emerald green dress that looked like it was from the Victorian Era (It most likely was) and had quite a lot of gold jewelry on. Most likely to show how incredibly wealthy she was to anyone who passed by her.
Her dark brown eyes were watching him with a sharp manner, Harry suddenly realized she was still waiting for a response and clearly did not feel like asking again.
He couldn’t help but feel relieved when another voice interrupted before he could stutter out an answer, “Hush now Mother! The poor boy most likely just went through a traumatic event! Do not scare him more by interrogating him!”
Harry turns to face the new voice, once again it was a portrait that spoke. It was a young woman who looked similar in both looks and sophistication to the previous woman.
She too had dark skin, brown eyes and raven black hair. But instead of wearing a green dress, she was wearing a black and white dress and her curly hair was in two large braids.
She was wearing the same gold jewelry as the first woman, which Harry assumed it was because she inherited from her. It would make sense due to them being mother and daughter.
Callie must have felt it was a good time to step in, although he does wish she would have stepped in sooner instead of watching amusingly as the two women bickered back and forth.
“Lady Lucinda, Lady Viktoria,
please
do not argue in front of guests, it is
quite
impolite.” Callie smiles sweetly as the portraits quieten down, “Now, may I introduce you both to
Harrison Evans
. He will be staying with us for an
unknown
amount of time.”
The two portraits shared an amused look, for what? Harry has absolutely no clue. “Harry, these two
lovely
women are Lady
Lucinda Hawthorne
, and her daughter, Lady
Viktoria Remington
.”
Harry hesitated; he wasn't entirely sure if it was required to bow when being introduced to portraits or not
but
to be safe he did so anyway. It doesn’t hurt to be on the good sides of portraits (They hear and know
everything
, which can be quite useful when he needs blackmail)
“Oh! What a
polite
young man!” Lady Viktoria giggled, thankfully it seemed easy to get her to adore you.
Especially
when you’re a cute eight year old.
Lady Lucinda on the other hand, did
not
giggle like her daughter, instead she slowly bowed her head. A gesture that high noble ladies did when reciprocating another’s bow. A sign of respect. Even though their reactions were different, Harry could tell immediately that they both equally adored him, they just showed their admiration in different ways.
Callie watched him quietly, amused, before offering him her hand. “Thank you ladies for the wonderful conversation, but I am afraid we must depart, it is getting late and we still have a few things to do before Harry must sleep”
\
Lady Viktoria pouted and seemed tempted to argue but stayed silent once she caught sight of her mother’s stern glare. Lady Lucinda seemed to have no temptations to argue, “Very well then, sleep well Harrison,
Пусть Моргана благословит ваши мечты.
”
Lady Viktoria nods at her mother’s words, repeating them more enthusiastically. “
Пусть Моргана благословит ваши мечты!
”
Harry doesn’t respond as he’s led away from the two women, he doesn’t know Russian so it would be incredibly stupid to respond to something he doesn’t understand. He
just
got on their good sides, he doesn’t want to risk ruining that
immediately
.
Callie leads him to what he assumes is the living room, and it was fucking
gorgeous
. There was a fireplace in the middle of the back wall, a window seat that had a small bookshelf inside of it. In front of the fireplace was a large brown leather couch that was covered with a green blanket that was covered in embroidery.
Next to the window seat was a bird stand where a large beautiful falcon was resting, its wings spread out at the sight of Callie and it let out a chitter as it flew to rest on her shoulder, nudging their head against hers.
“Harry meet Boris, my familiar.” Harry smiled at the falcon, allowing him to smell his hand. “Hello Boris, it’s lovely to meet you, I’m Harrison or Harry for short”
Callie leans close to Boris, whispering something that Harry can’t quite hear to him. Boris chitters before flying out of the room and down the hall. “I still have
one
more person to introduce you to Harry, do you know what a house elf is?”
Of course he does. In his past life he knew many different house elfs, he knew Dobby, Kreacher, and the ones that worked at Hogwarts. (He feels horrible that he never learned any of their names.)
Harry nods his head, there was no point in lying. Most magical kids knew of house elves before they could even walk, even if their family didn’t have any.
Callie smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder. (How can someone smile so damn much,
holy shit
.)
“
Мипси!” Callie yells out a Russian word, or maybe it’s a name? He has no fucking idea.
A small house elf appears in front of them with a
pop
and Harry can’t help but stare in awe at how…
well dressed
they are.
Every time he’s ever met a house elf in the past they were always dressed in rags, but this house elf was dressed….
not
in rags. The house elf standing in front of him was wearing a cute baby pink dress that has short ruffle sleeves, as well as white tights and baby pink shoes that are buckled at the top with a leather strap.
And..oh..
Oh
! The cherry on top was the cute white bow headband that wrapped around their head. Oh bloody hell they’re
adorable
.
The house elf’s eyes widened at the sight of Callie, sparking with admiration while a huge smile spread on their face, “Lady Callie you have returned!” She claps happily. Harry has to admit, he finds it a bit amusing that he can pinpoint the
exact
moment she finally notices him because
somehow
her smile grows even wider. (How is that even possible!?)
“Lady Callie has brought a guest!!
Oh
Lady Callie is so
kind
to Mipsy!” The house elf, or Mispy, squealed with joy. Which is understandable, house elves
thrive
and sometimes even
survive
off of serving wizards and witches, and while one witch is enough for a house elf to live
comfortably
it’s probably still a bit underwhelming. So having guests visit is probably a big deal for her, it means more people to serve.
“Hello, Mipsy! I’m Harrison but you can call me Harry as a nickname!” He knows he’s supposed to keep playing the shy orphan act but he couldn't help but drop it once Mipsy arrived. (He can’t help it! He’s always had a soft spot for house elves, they’re just so cute and sweet!)
Callie doesn’t seem to notice the change in personality, or if she does she doesn’t say anything, instead she laughs at Mipsy’s excitement.
“Mipsy sweetheart, Harry here will be staying with us for a while, would you be a dear and set up a guest room for him?” She asks sweetly, honestly Harry’s surprised that Mipsy didn’t get whiplash from how fast she nodded her head before disappearing.
Callie turns to him apologetically, “I’m so sorry about her, she’s just
very
excited to have a guest to take care of, we haven’t had one in awhile.” Harry nods, “It’s fine, she seems
very
sweet, I like her outfit as well, it's adorable!”
She laughs at his comment, “Well, please make sure to tell Mipsy that! She picked it out herself, she is
quite
proud of her fashion skills, you know?”
He’s never heard of a house elf who was allowed to pick out clothes and dress themselves, but hey, he’s also never heard of someone meeting Death and getting sent back 50 years to live a second life, but
here we fucking are
!
Harry nearly jumps in surprise when Mipsy suddenly speaks from behind him, “Mipsy has finished the room! Would Lady Callie and Lord Harrison like Mipsy to take them there??” Even though the question was asked politely with a smile, Harry felt like it was
less
of a question and
more
of a demand.
“Yes please Mipsy” Callie says as she takes one of Mipsy’s offered hands, Harry hesitantly takes the other.
A second later they’re in an elegantly decorated room. The main color he could see was emerald green while the accent color from what he could tell was black. Harry couldn’t help but stare in awe, the room was huge, as in
bigger
than Dudley’s second room.
From where he was standing he could see two doors, one slightly open to the point where he could see a
bathtub
. Holy fuck, does he get his own bathroom!?
Mipsy lets go of both their hands, turning to face Harry. She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke up, “Does Lord Harrison like the room?” It took Harry a second to realize that Mipsy was trying to
impress
him! He didn't think she could get more adorable!
“I
love
it” He says sincerely, “I also love your outfit, you have
great
fashion taste” Mipsy squealed happily at the compliment, “Thank you Lord Harrison! Mipsy is very thankful for your compliments!” and with that she disappeared. To Where? Harry had no damn clue.
“I apologize that you don’t have any other clothes to sleep in, I
would
offer you one of my sleep garnets but I doubt you’ll enjoy sleeping in a gown.” She says with a pity smile, “
But
if you like, me and Mipsy can try to find a spare bathrobe your size? You can take a nice warm bath and then sleep in the comfy robe?”
Harry agrees without hesitation, the clothes he was in currently were sweaty from the heat of the fires, as well as covered in blood and dirt. He’s surprised that Callie even let him be seen with her, he looks like absolute
shit
. But then again he just went through a ‘traumatic event’ so it makes sense.
Callie exits the room gracefully, calling for Mipsy once the door closes with a click. Now that he’s alone he takes the chance to study the room. The walls were covered in a dark green wallpaper with a fancy flower design, to his left is a bookshelf made with what looks like spruce wood. He wasn’t surprised to find that the shelf was filled with books about the Dark Arts.
When he and Callie first made contact he could practically feel the dark aura radiating off her, she definitely had an affinity for the dark arts.
In his past life this most likely would have disgusted him, he would have felt like throwing up after knowing he was in a house with a dark witch that could use dark magic on him at any second. But he didn’t feel that now, instead he felt nothing.
He learned too late in his life that dark magic itself wasn’t evil, it was the way the magic user used it that made the actions evil. The exact same words could be said for light magic or neutral magic.
Magic is not evil, people are.
That’s what Draco Malfoy told him one day in the boys bathroom, when Harry had caught him crying. He winces every time his brain forces him to remember what he said to Draco that day, how he treated him.
He regrets it and a part of him wishes he could apologize, while the other tries to remind him how Draco treated him back. That Draco was a spoiled racist asshole who always complained to his father when something didn’t go his way.
But deep down Harry knew he wasn’t any better, yeah he wasn’t evil, but Draco wasn’t either, they were kids for fucks sake. It hurt to admit that sometimes he forgot that.
Something wet fell from his face, and it took him a second to realize he was crying. Bloody hell he was fucking
crying
.
Harry wipes his face, grimacing at the feeling of dirt being smudged across his face.
Ew
, he really does need that bath.
“Are you quite alright Harry?” He gasps in surprise as he swerves to face Callie. He made sure to make a mental note about her light footsteps, he didn’t even hear her come in!
“Yeah, I’m..fine. I just
really
want to get all this gross dirt off.” He replies with a strained smile, he knows he should try to keep up with his act a little better but he’s bloody exhausted.
Callie gives him one of her sweet smiles, somehow not bothered by his new personality. “Well luckily I’ve found a robe your size” She pauses, looking him up and down. “Well, it might be a little big but that just makes it comfier!”
Harry glances at the black silk robe that resided in her hand, trying to calculate if ‘a little big’ meant one size bigger or three, with Callie it could mean either. “Mipsy is drawing you a bath right now, I made sure to tell her to add extra bubbles so all that dirt comes right off.”
It was only now that Harry finally noticed the sound of running water, how did he
not
notice before?
Fuck
, he really needs to get a hold on his emotions.
“Are you sure you're okay sweetheart? Your eyes are red and puffy.” Callie asks, watching him carefully.
Oh.
Well now the atmosphere felt awkward.
Callie didn’t believe him when he lied, or at least not completely. Honestly Harry should have known, she seems smart and intelligent so
of course
she could put together context clues. Harry was the idiot here.
Before Harry could answer, Mipsy emerged from the bathroom. “The bath is ready Lord Harrison! Mipsy made sure to add
many
bubbles” She says happily with a wink as she leads him into the new room.
Harry stared in awe at the bathroom and more importantly the
huge
bathtub, he knows he really shouldn’t be surprised that a wealthy noble has a big bathtub but the size and design is still impressive.
“Mipsy shall leave Lord Harrison to bathe now! But shall return if called!” Harry smiles, thanking her politely before she disappears. He gags as he begins to peel off the grimy clothes before slowly lowering himself into the warm, almost hot water. He sighs in content and allows his body to relax.
For the first time today Harry let down his guard.
He stretches his neck carefully, huffing in satisfaction at the cracks that follow. He rubs some of the bubbles into his skin and smiles, he finally feels
clean
.
He picks up a bottle that was placed on the edge of the tub, reading the label that says in bold letters ‘Truman’s Swift Shampoo’ before prying the lid open and lathering it onto his head. He makes sure to scrub his body with soap from head to toe, attempting to get all the sweat, dirt, blood, and ashes off of him.
By the time he finally emerges from the bathtub, there is not a speck in sight on him.
(Other than his scars of course)
He grabs the white fluffy towel that Mipsy left him, drying his hair first before anything else. He pauses to watch himself in the mirror, noting everything that looks off about him. Even if he doesn’t miss his past life or his old self, he does miss his old body.
He forces himself to look away, opting to put on the large fluffy robe instead. Callie was correct that it was a bit too big, luckily only two sizes bigger. He tried not to focus on the fact that he was wearing no underwear, grateful that the robe fully covered his bottom, reaching down to his knees.
He enters the bedroom, sighing in relief when Callie was nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t hate her or anything, he’s just too tired to keep up the ‘I’m a eight year old kid’ act right now.
He flops onto the comically large bed, surprised but also not surprised at the fluffiness of the mattress. He takes a deep breath that gets slightly muffled due to his face squished against the bed.
He has so many questions but no answers.
He wanted to ask
why
?
Why is Callie so bloody nice?
Why does she treat her house elf so
fucking
well?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
HE JUST WANTS FUCKING ANSWERS. HE’S GOTTEN NONE SINCE HE READ DEATH’S CONFUSING ASS LETTER, IS THAT SO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK FOR? JUST ONE
GOD DAMN
ANSWER
!?
He lets out a strangled groan in frustration, hitting the bed over and over to let out his emotions.
He’s never been good at regulating his emotions, he was never taught to. When he tried to teach himself, he struggled a lot. When he complained about it to Ron and Hermione, Hermione always told him that it sounds like he has Anger Issues and most likely would need to see a therapist or at the very least ask an adult for help.
He never did.
Which he regrets now, almost crying in frustration. There’s so many moments where he wished he listened to Hermione, but didn’t because of pride.
Pride.
Huh.
He didn’t feel that often anymore, there was nothing to be prideful about.
He’s lost everything.
He lost the war.
He lost his parents
He lost his family.
He lost his friends.
He lost himself.
Why couldn’t he have been a normal child?
Why couldn’t he live a normal childhood?
With loving parents.
Fun but safe school years.
Why couldn’t he be a living child not a surviving one.
Voldemort is why.
Or…
Maybe Dumbledore is why.
He never really thought about it.
He didn’t ever really need to.
He was always told that Dumbledore was the hero.
The good side.
The protector of thousands.
But if that was true, then why didn’t he protect Harry?
He was a child.
He didn’t deserve anything that happened to him.
Fuck.
He
really
needs to stop thinking before he starts crying again. If he does he might not be able to stop.
Harry rolls over to lay on his back, shuffling to pull the covers over him.
He stares at the ceiling. Sleep, he thinks.
Sleep.
Finally, after many minutes, does sleep come.
It comes with a blanket of its own, one of darkness.
Harry allows it to wrap around him, swaddling him like a newborn baby being presented to its mother.
“Goodnight Hermione, Goodnight Ron” He whispers into the blanket of darkness, drifting off to a world of sleep, filled with people he loves with every ounce of his heart. Thankful to see them again after so long.
Goodnight Harry. Sweet Dreams.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next morning Harry was awoken by a soft knock on his door, he groaned in frustration as he rolled out of bed to answer it.
He wasn’t surprised to see Callie waiting patiently on the other side, though he was surprised to see her holding a tray of food and drinks.
“Good morning Милый, I assume you slept well?” She asks politely, walking past Harry so she could set the tray down on his nightstand. Harry tilts his head, confused at the humorous tone of her question.
Callie smiles, amused by his confusion. She places her hands on his shoulders and leads him in front of a mirror, laughing when the realization finally hits him.
His hair was
everywhere
, and his face had line indents from how squished his face was into his pillow all night. He has drool running down his face and he embarrassingly uses his robe to clean it off before Callie can tease him anymore about it.
He hates that her previous question makes too much sense now. Bloody hell, someone
please
kill him now.
Callie watches their reflections with a glint in her that Harry has never seen before, though he felt it could only be compared to sadness. He tried to study it a bit longer but accidently made eye contact with her, causing the glint to disappear and be replaced with her usual happy glint.
“I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast” She pauses, hiding a smile behind her hand. “I apologize if it’s a bit much, Mipsy got a little
too
excited and made a feast”
Harry couldn’t help but smile as well, Mipsy was one of the sweetest house elves he ever met. (Other than Dobby of course)
“When you’re finished, I was hoping you would be okay with going shopping? I feel it may benefit you to have actual clothes.”
Harry nods in agreement, while the bath robe
is
comfortable it would feel nice to wear actual clothes that aren’t dirty.
“Yeah, that would be really nice thank you!”
Callie nods, shutting the door behind her and leaving Harry by himself again.
He turns to study the tray of food and feels tears sting at his eyes. This was the first time in a while that someone cared enough to make him food, especially a full breakfast. He mentally reminded himself to thank her when he gets the chance.
In the middle of the tray is a plate of about three blueberry pancakes, covered in syrup with a square piece of butter on top. To the right was another plate, but instead of pancakes there’s four eggs cooked to be sunny side up as well as two strips of bacon. They’re all covered with small flakes that he could tell were seasonings just not what kind.
To the left is a small bowl filled with fruits, he could make out strawberries, blueberries, watermelon, apples, and lastly grapes. Then finally there is a clear cup of orange juice, topped with a orange slice wedged onto the cup’s rim.
A healthy breakfast.
Harry sighs and sits down on the bed, but not before gabbing the plate of pancakes along with a fork & knife. Yes, he plans to eat everything, even if he has to force it down. He doesn’t know how long this will last and he needs to be prepared to not eat for days if he can’t afford to.
At least the food tastes good.
It took Harry almost thirty minutes to eat everything, yes
everything
. Though he mostly regrets it, he felt like his stomach was about to fucking explode. He lays down on the bed, closing his eyes and allowing his body to go limp. That was his way of dealing with pain and for some reason it helped.
He lays there for what feels like ten minutes, although he’s not really the best at keeping track of time. He always trusted Hermione to keep track.
He only allows himself to sit up when the pain in his stomach finally relents, instead becoming nothing but a dull hum.
A
pop
interrupts the comfortable silence and he glances up to see Mipsy waiting patiently at the foot of his bed. “Hello, Mipsy. How are you?” he asks, adding a little wave at the end.
Mipsy seems happy at his greetings, a wide smile taking form on her face. “Good Morning Lord Harrison! Mipsy is well!” Her eyes widen at the sight of the empty tray, before letting out a high pitch squeal. “Oh Lord Harrison must be a blessing from Lady Моргана herself! Mipsy is so honored!”
Harry flinches and covers his ears at the piercing noise, though a bit too late.
“Uh..Mipsy? What time is it?” he asks, still not quite sure.
Mipsy snaps her fingers and the bulky tray disappears, leaving a clean organized bedside table behind.
“It is 9Am Lord Harrison!” Huh. It feels a lot later than that.
Mipsy watches him for a moment, fidgeting with her hands as she finally speaks.
“Would..Lord Harrison like Mipsy to run him a bubble bath?”
It takes Harry almost a whole minute to finally realize why she was so nervous to ask about a
bath
.
She’s waiting for him to ask things of her, she wants to feel useful.
His heart hurts at the realization and his eyes soften as he leans forward, “That would be quite lovely Mipsy. May I request extra bubbles?”
Mipsy’s eyes sparkle in happiness and she lets out a happy squeal as she disappears.
Harry sighs and leans back, Mipsy reminds of Dobby in so many ways but at the same time is so….
different
from him.
Dobby was a stuttering mess that was somehow so so
brave
, and Mipsy is a sweetheart who is a bit hesitant. How the hell are they so similar yet so different?
Maybe it was just the grief tricking him. Trying to convince him that Dobby was still here through Mipsy.
“Lord Harrison, your bath is ready!”
Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let the grief win for a little while.
Harry carefully steps out of the bath, wrapping a white fluffy towel around his waist. He wipes the condensation off the mirror before trying to fix his wild hair. Hermione and Ginny used to complain about it constantly, he remembers one time when they tried to cut it in the 2nd floor girl’s bathroom.
It didn’t go well. His hair had immediately grown out again, which caused the girls to be even more upset over it. (It got annoying pretty quick, he just wanted them to stop)
Luckily it seemed like his hair was a bit more calm here, he was able to get rid of most of the knots and make his hair look presentable. So far his day was going pretty good. (He hopes it stays that way.)
He pauses to stare at himself in the mirror, his chest feeling empty at how
young
he looks. He finally remembers Death’s words, ‘just live a new life. I Don’t care.’
This was his chance to have a new life, to have the childhood he always wanted.
Everything was finally starting to become real to him. The realization that this wasn’t a fucking dream, this was
real
. He was actually getting a good childhood, something he wished for his entire life.
Tears gathered in his eyes, and his breath quickened. He didn’t know why he was crying, maybe it was from the overwhelming feeling of happiness or was it relief? Relief that he didn’t have to be the ‘Boy Who Lived’ or ‘The Chosen One’ or even ‘Harry Potter’
No.
He was Harrison Evans.
A normal wizard boy.
It felt like the universe finally listened to his pleas.
It took 17 years but the universe finally fucking listened.
His soft cries turned to sobs, hysterical happy sobs.
“Lord Harrison? Is you okay?”
Harry gasps in shock as he turns around to face Mipsy, who is watching him with concern while fidgeting with her hands.
Harry smiles, wiping his tears away. “I’m fine Mipsy, great even.”
Mipsy studies his face, clearly not believing his words. “Does you promise?”
Harry’s heart hurts at the slight grammar mistake, and he lowers himself to her level. Staring into her wide eyes, full of fear and uncertainty. “I promise.”
Tears well up in Mipsy’s eyes and her voice is shaky. “You are smart boy, Lord Harrison. Mipsy has never seen it before. You are special. Mipsy is honored to serve you, even for a little while.”
“Thank you Mipsy. Thank you so so much.” He whispers, leaning his forehead to rest on hers, closing his eyes.
He feels something tug at his heart, though it doesn’t feel physical, more spiritual or magical.
He opens his eyes and leans back, smiling warmly at Mipsy.
She sniffles, a smile now on her face. “Would Lord Harrison like his clothes now? Mipsy cleaned them herself!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden change of emotion, “That would be great Mipsy. Thank you.”
She disappears for a moment, before returning with the clothes he wore the day before. Though they no longer had ash, blood and sweat covering them.
“They look wonderful, thank you Mipsy.” He says, putting the shirt on carefully. Mipsy nods at him before disappearing again, most likely to take care of Callie’s needs.
He unwraps the towel from his waist, putting on his boxers, pants, and socks. He didn’t know where his shoes were, probably hidden somewhere by Mipsy. He didn’t need them currently so he didn’t bother calling Mipsy to bring them.
He opens the door, shivering at the cool air that hit him. He hadn’t even realized how hot the bathroom had become. He was slightly surprised to see Callie sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. She smiles as they make eye contact, “Hello love, hopefully it’s fine that I’m in here?”
He tilts his head, confused at her question. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s your home, I’m just a guest.”
A hint of sadness clouds Callies eyes, “It’s still your room, guest or not, and you deserve to have a choice about what happens in here. Okay sweetheart?”
Harry doesn’t really understand, but nonetheless he nods his head in agreement.
“Alright, do you need to do anything else? Or are you ready to leave?”
Harry shrugs, looking down at his feet, bare except for his socks, all he really needed was his shoes. Callie’s eyes follow his line of sight, humming in understanding. “Мипси!” She calls out, her voice echoing due to the volume.
Harry had realized that night that Мипси means Mipsy in Russian. (He was proud of himself for finally coming to a conclusion.)
“Yes Lady Callie?” Mipsy asks politely, fidgeting with her hands behind her back.
“Hi love, can you please bring Harry his shoes, we need to leave in a little to go shopping.”
Mipsy nods, a big smile now on her face. (Most likely due to the fact she’s being called on so much today)
She disappears before returning a minute later, this time holding Harry’s shoes in one hand. They had been cleaned and polished, now a shiny brown.
“Thank you sweetheart, and while we’re gone can you please prepare lunch? We’ll be returning around twelve-thirty.”
Mipsy nods again, this time in understanding, before she hands Harry his shoes, then disappears for the last time.
Callie turns her attention back to him, her smile somehow growing. “Are you ready for a fun shopping trip дорогой?”
Harry should really learn Russian, for all he knows, Callie could be calling him an idiot.
(Oh, if only he knew)
Harry winces at the loud voices surrounding him, he had only
just
exited the floo and he was
already
overwhelmed. He jumps when a hand touches his shoulder, relieved to find that it was only Callie. “This way Harry” she tells him, having to yell slightly so that he was able to hear her. He nods as she leads him away towards a quieter area, sighing in relief when his eardrums were no longer in pain.
Callie smiles at him as they slow to a stop, “Before we continue, I want to warn you. We will be going to a muggle shopping market. So you’ll need to stay close to me, alright sweetheart?” Harry nods in understanding, though a bit confused. From his experience at Hogwarts in his past life, all the purebloods hated everything to do with muggles and wanted nothing to do with them.
Maybe it was different in the 1930s? Or maybe Russian wizards don’t care about that sort of thing?
He never really thought about it, plus he never left the UK in his past life so he has no idea if non british wizards cared about that sort of thing.
He felt sort of guilty for not being more knowledgeable about other wizard cultures. He hated how it made him feel, how it made him realize that he and the racist purebloods weren’t so different after all.
He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Callie slows to a stop once again and he couldn’t help but look around surprised, they were in a completely new area. How long was he consumed by his thoughts? He really needs to stop being an overthinker, cause one of these days he’s gonna get lost.
He follows Callie into a small shop, filled with clothes on racks and mannequins. Many of the clothes looked over the top, most likely for rich people who want to make their wealth known. So why the hell was Callie and Harry here?
An old woman emerges from a back room, a wide smile spreading on her face.
“Ah! Ms. Hawthorne, what delight to see you again! Another dress I presume?” She squints at Callie, a fire burning in her baby blue eyes, “Or maybe something more
bold
?”
Harry can’t help but curl into himself when her fierce gaze latches on to him, “I was
quite
sure that you had told me that you have no kids, or was I
mistaken
Ms. Hawthorne?”
To Harry’s surprise, Callie doesn’t deter at the confrontation. Instead she smiles with a glint of amusement resting in her eyes. “No, you were not mistaken Mrs. Jones. Harrison here is a recent addition, which is why we have decided to visit your lovely boutique this fine morning.”
Callie gently guides Harry out from behind her, “Harrison is in need of some proper clothes, preferably enough to fill a closet. Shoes as well please.”
Mrs. Jones studies them both for a moment, clearly trying to find any traces of a lie, before finally smiling. “Of course, follow me please, we must measure you before we can properly dress you.”
Callie takes his hand once again and leads him to follow Mrs. Jones, who somehow had already disappeared into the back room. (How the hell was someone so old, so damn
fast
?)
Harry expected the backroom to be messy and full of boxes and racks of clothes, but surprisingly it was the opposite. Clothes were neatly folded on shelves lining the wall to the right, tall mirrors hung on the wall in front of him, and a long wooden table sat in front of a large window to the left.
Mrs. Jones waves him over to one of the mirrors, manhandling him to stand in front of it in a star stance. (Merlin, he feels like a bloody idiot.) He watches as Mrs. Jones grabs a measuring tape off the table, as well as a pencil and a leather notebook.
She hands Callie the lather and answers her questioning gaze almost immediately with a pout. “Keep track of the numbers, will you dear? I’m
quite
old and can’t
possibly
handle juggling both at once.”
Callie smiles at Mrs. Jones, easily amused at her half-assed attempt at guilt tripping her.
“Of course.”
Harry can’t help but smile at the interaction, their personalities complimented each other so well. He silently wonders if Mrs. Jones knew about Callie being a witch? Probably not. He’s not entirely sure if The Ministry of Magic exists yet but even so there’s probably still laws that prevent wizards and witches from telling non-family muggles about magic.
Harry yelps in surprise when a cold boney hand grazes his left shoulder, lightly wrapping the measuring tape around his forearm. Mrs. Jones laughs at his attempts to cover up his embarrassment, somehow making it sound real but also disgustingly fake at the same time. “You’re
quite
the jumpy one, aren’t you Harrison?” Harry’s face heats up at the remark and he awkwardly glances at Callie, a silent cry for help. But instead of coming to his rescue, she just fucking
laughs
! And what’s worse is that his face must have revealed his feeling of betrayal, because Callie takes one look at his face and begins to laugh
harder
!
Harry couldn’t help but pause in shock as the laugh echoed in the room. Callie's laugh was something he
never
expected to come out of someone of her status. Unlike Mrs. Jones’s laugh, which sounded fake and proper, Callie’s sounded genuine and full of joy.
It reminded him of Sirius.
Was that wrong of him to think?
He felt like it was. But at the same time it made him feel better, it made him feel like Sirius was still here, even though he was dead almost 50 years in the future.
He shouldn’t be shocked by his way of thinking, he realized long ago that grief is weird. It makes you act different, think different,
feel
different.
It makes you do crazy shit.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t mind it, because in the end, grief doesn’t change him as much as he likes to think.
It only took an hour before Harry and Callie were leaving the small boutique. Mrs. Jones had informed Callie to come back tomorrow to pick up the clothes. How a whole closet's worth of clothes were meant to be done by tomorrow? Harry had no clue. But then again, people worked in mysterious ways, even muggles.
After a few minutes of walking, Callie stops to face him then lowers herself to his eye level. “Harry, may I ask you a
very
important question?” she asks, though her tone gave away that it wasn’t actually that important. But nonetheless Harry nods.
“Is there anything you would like? A toy, books, maybe even a new pair of glasses?” Ah. She wants
him
to make a decision, probably to make him feel more in control. He holds back a scoff, if only she knew that he was actually seventeen. (He just doesn’t want to admit that the question does actually make him feel more comfortable and in control.)
Even though the question was ridiculous, Harry still paused to think. He doesn’t know how long this arrangement would last and he should probably take advantage of it. Obviously toys don’t interest him, maybe some books to entertain him.
And
to help him in his studies. If he was going to live a better life then he needs to know how to defend himself.
Plus it would be nice to just relax and learn, instead of cramming knowledge into his brain whenever he could. That’s one of the few things he hated about Hogwarts, it never felt like he was really
learning
anything, it was too fast paced and strict. Then again, he never really did well in
any
school, it’s just not his thing.
“Books.” He finally answers, before frantically adding a ‘
please
’ as to not seem rude. Callie’s eyes twinkle at his answer, “Of course sweetheart” she whispers. “Would you like magical books or muggle books?”
Muggle books never really interested him all that much, most of them were fairy tales and the ones that weren’t were just some useless crap about wisdom and philosophy. Plus magical books can help him protect himself
much
easier than a muggle book can.
“Magical please”
Callie nods in satisfaction before she stands up, dusts herself off and takes Harry’s hand once again. “Off to Diagon Alley then.”
Harry can’t help but notice a change in her demeanor, what made her so damn happy?
Not that he’s complaining, it’s nice, her being happy makes him happy.
Is that how it works?
A small sign hung next to a small book shop named 'Books & Scrolls’
‘25% off of any damaged books.’
It wasn’t the same shop he would go to when shopping for school books, but maybe it doesn’t exist yet? Or maybe Callie just preferred this one.
A bell rang as they entered and a squeaky male voice greeted them. “Oh- Hello! Welcome to Books & Scrolls, is there anything specific you’re looking for?” Callie glances at Harry, waiting for his answer. He shakes his head, he doesn’t remember any books that he would immediately grab and even if he did they might not have even been written yet!
“No, but thank you, we’ll let you know if we need any help.” The young man behind the counter nods at Callie’s words, before returning back his own book. (Harry can’t help but think he looks like a mixture between Hermione and Ron. Like if they had a son together, this is
exactly
what he would look like.)
Callie leads Harry further into the store, slowing down every once in a while to allow Harry to glance at signs labeling the organized aisles. Harry pauses in front of one of the signs, debating if it was worth it or not to ask if they could look down this aisle.
Callie notices his hesitance and glances at the sign, “The Dark Arts?”
Harry nods shyly, blushing when Callie coos at his embarrassment. “Don’t be shy, love, these books are for
you
to enjoy. Pick out whatever you want, I
promise
I won’t judge you.”
Callie thinks for a moment, before lifting his chin to look at her. “Sweetheart, would it make you feel better if you searched on your own? We can meet up at the front counter when you're done.” Harry nods in agreement, though he does feel a bit guilty. Callie was so excited to take him book shopping and here he is asking to do it by himself.
Merlin, he feels like a prick.
“I can tell what you’re thinking Harry, and listen to me right now, do
not
feel bad. I am not offended by your choice. I am a grown adult who can handle being told ‘no’ or to go away.” She sighs and pats his head with a smile. “Now,
go
. Get as many books as you want.”
Is it sad for him to say that Callie is the most mature, kindest, and respectful adult he’s ever met?......Yeah it probably is.
“Thank you Callie” He returns a smile, a real one, before watching her walk away. (Most likely to find some books of her own)
He sighs and begins to walk down the aisle, glancing at each book’s title to see if any interest him. He keeps forgetting that dark magic wasn’t banned in the 30s, it was just looked down upon. He’s always wanted to try a dark spell but he never got the chance with Dumbledore breathing down his neck.
He’s halfway through the aisle before a book finally stands out to him and he carefully grabs the book. He can’t help but admire the beautiful shade of brown that the cover held.
His finger traces the title that is engraved into the front.
‘Dark Magic For Dark Souls By Ivor Vangron’
He flipped the cover and peeked at the chapter index, his eyes fixated on the title of the third chapter. He couldn’t look away.
‘Introduction To Blood Magic’
Blood magic? He
swears
he heard that somewhere. (He knows that he shouldn’t since it’s dark magic but he can’t shake that feeling of Deja Vu)
He closes the cover and tucks it under his arm, he was
definitely
getting this book. He roams around the shop a bit longer, grabbing another dark arts book as well as two potion books, one healing book, and one Defense against the dark arts book.
He wanted
so
badly to grab more but he knows he needs to travel light when he eventually has to leave.
He only struggled a little when he began to head back to the front counter. (He struggled so fucking much.) Callie was already waiting for him, chatting politely with the cashier, two books of her own resigned on the counter. He hopes she hasn’t been waiting too long.
She watches in amusement as he attempts to walk (waddle) a few more steps without the tower of books in his arms falling everywhere, she tries to hide a laugh by pretending to lightly cough (though failing miserably) before finally having mercy on him by taking half of the stack and setting it down on the counter gently.
The cashier raises an eyebrow at the two short stacks of books sitting in front of him, muttering something about Ravenclaw before levitating each book individually, inserting the book number into the till, and setting it down gently in a brown paper bag.
He only pauses for a moment at the dark magic books, studying Harry before continuing, seemingly feeling like he should mind his own damn business. (Which he should.)
It doesn’t take long before the cashier turns to Callie, finished with ringing up the books. “That will be 2 Galleons please.”
Harry doesn’t know how to react to the price, in his timeline 2 Galleons would be a bargain. But he knew inflation was a thing at least in the muggle world and wasn’t sure how much that influenced the wizarding world.
He glanced at Callie, trying to read her expression in an attempt to see if he needs to send back money from any future jobs to pay off a debt.
But he should have known better, because Callie (not-surprisingly) doesn’t bat an eye at the price, just opens a coin purse and hands the respected amount to the cashier.
He keeps forgetting that Callie is extremely rich and doesn’t bat an eye at any prices, no matter how low or high it may be.
For some reason that kind of stresses him out.
He assumes it’s because he’s not used to not being able to read people’s expressions. He’s been doing it almost his whole life, whether it was to avoid a beating from Vernon or it was to stay in Dumbledore’s good grace.
Despite the knot forming in his stomach, Harry still smiled and thanked Callie when she handed him a bag full of books. He tried to ignore the growing knot as they walked down Diagon alley.
He was having a
good
day, why was the universe so fucking against it?
“Harry, love, what’s wrong?”
God damnit now he’s ruining the good mood, why the hell was he messing everything up today?
“Oh Милый, don’t cry!” A hand suddenly cupped his right cheek, thumb wiping away the tears that began trickling down his trembling face.
When did he start crying?
Why
was he crying?
He involuntarily whimpered when the hand suddenly drew away from him.
Bloody fucking hell this so
embarrasing
.
The warmth of body heat returned once again, this time when he was hugged.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” She whispers, one of her hands rubbing his back soothingly.
Hearing the words, the internal wall suddenly broke and everything hit him at once. He began to sob, wrapping his arms tightly around Callie.
He didn’t even have the dignity left to be embarrassed when she picked him up with ease to cradle him in her arms.
“Are you tired sweetheart? Is that why you’re upset? Or did I do something wrong?” He shakes his head, he didn’t want Callie to blame herself.
“Alright, well give me one second and we can go back home where it’s nice and quiet.” He doesn’t respond, instead just buries his head deeper into her shoulder to muffle his cries.
It didn’t take very long for Callie to find a floo, only ten minutes at most.
He expected her to set him down before they went through, but she didn’t. She just silently held him tighter before throwing the powder and walking into the fire.
Callie didn’t wait longer than a second before walking out of the floo room, her heels clacking on the marble ground. Harry felt his face heat up in embarrassment once he realized they would have to walk past the portraits. Even though he wasn’t sobbing anymore he was still sniffling and breathing shakily, it doesn’t take a genius to put together that he was crying.
Surprisingly the portraits don’t say anything, or at least not anything more than a few whispers. He suspects that Callie had signaled them to stay quiet, in case they set him off again.
The embarrassment of knowing he was being treated like a small child caused the knot in his stomach to tighten again.
He is a small child though? So why is he so embarrassed? Why is he feeling like this?
Why does he feel so…
weak?
“Sweetheart, would you like some tea?” Callie whispered in his ear, her calm voice soothing the knot. He nods, reluctant to extract his face from her shoulder.
He wasn’t ready to be lectured yet, to hear the disappointment come from Callie’s melodic voice. He wasn’t ready.
“Alright love, do you want a sweet treat as well?”
He froze.
He was allowed a sweet treat? Was this a trap?
He hesitantly nods into her shoulder, tensing just in case it was a trap.
He flinched when a hand rested on his back, rubbing soothingly.
“Мипси!” Callie softly yelled, careful to avoid yelling directly into Harry’s ear.
“Yes Lady Callie?” Harry shifted to glance at Mipsy, only being able to catch the top of her head from his angle.
“Could you brew some tea please? Preferably something sweet and soothing, as well as a sweet treat.” Mipsy doesn’t respond so Harry assumes that she just nodded before leaving. Callie sits down on the couch, shifting Harry so he sits on her lap facing her with his face in her shoulder still. He doesn’t remember when they arrived in the living room but then again he was a bit occupied with crying his heart out.
A pop echoes in the silent room and Harry glances to see Mipsy setting down a tray of tea along with a small bowl filled with chocolate pudding, sprinkled with what looks to be dark chocolate. He rubs his sleeve, cringing when snot soaked through it. He shifted so he was no longer on Callie’s lap, but still close enough to hide in her shoulder if needed.
Callie hands Harry one of the tea cups, warning him to be careful since it’s hot. They sit in silence for what feels like half an hour, slowly sipping on the tea. Callie finally breaks the silence, setting her cup down.
She clears her throat before speaking, resting her hands on top of eachother in her lap. “Harry, do you mind explaining to me what happened at Diagon Alley today?” Harry shrugs, taking another sip of his tea. He’s not sure how to explain everything without sounding stupid or crying again.
A hand rests on his shoulder and he has to force his body to resist flinching, he’s already embarrassed enough he doesn’t need to be embarrassed any more.
“Sweetheart, listen to me, you’re not in trouble.” She gently tilts his head up to face her.
“I’m not trying to force you to tell me, but if I know what happened, then I can prevent making the same mistake in the future.” She brushes away a loose strand of his hair, before leaning forward and resting their foreheads together.
Harry’s eyes flutter close and he relishes in the relief that flows in his body.
“I want you to be happy, and if I’m doing something that makes you unhappy then I need to know so I can fix it.” She whispers.
Harry suddenly feels the need to cry again, though this time, he suspects it’s for a different reason.
No one’s ever said that to him. He was always told that he needed to suck it up and deal with it. Even Hermione and Ron never said those words to him. Don’t get him wrong, he knew they cared, they were his best friends of course they cared for him. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have flaws, that they weren’t a bit selfish in their actions.
He didn’t blame them. But they couldn’t blame him for the consequences of their own actions.
“I don’t know why it happened.” He whispers, voice raw and shaky from his breakdown.
“I was fine one minute and the next…I felt like crying.” He sniffles, his nose still runny and stuffed. Callie coos and leans to grab a cloth from the table, guiding Harry’s head towards it, beckoning for him to blow his nose.
“It sounds like you got overwhelmed, love”
Huh, that doesn’t sound right? He’s never gotten ‘overwhelmed’ before.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, everyone gets overwhelmed and it’s a completely normal thing.”
He scowls. Normal? But how is it normal if he’s never been overwhelmed before?
Callie tilts her head and her hazel eyes search his face. For what? He has no idea.
“What’s upsetting you, Милый?” She tilts his head up to look her in the eyes.
“Have I said something to offend you?” Harry’s eyes widen and shakes his head.
He hesitates and inhales a shaky breath. “I was u-upset because I couldn’t read your face and- and because I wanted more books but I couldn’t b-because I have to leave soon- and-
and-
”
Callie shushes him, cradling his head, and kissing his forehead. “Harry, love, are you worried about me kicking you out and abandoning you?”
His bottom lip trembles, threatening to let out a sob if he even attempts to verbally answer so instead he nods.
“
Oh
, Бедное мое дитя” Callie tugs him closer, holding him tightly for a few moments.
The pressure of it felt quite nice, sort of like it grounding him to reality. It was rare for him to feel this way, so he always treasured the feeling whenever he did.
Callie sighs and pulls away, cradling his teary face in her hands.
“I have something that I must ask you.”
“Now, I
was
planning on discussing it with you tomorrow
after
you got actual clothes but I feel now is the right time to.”
Callie sits up properly, taking a deep breath before looking Harry in the eyes.
He was shocked to see that for the first time in the past two days, there was
fear
in her eyes. Why was she so afraid?
“Harry, I have spoken to a kind man named Mr. Ledger, he works for the Ministry.”
He feels numb, as if his body doesn’t know how to feel.
“
Before
you assume the worst. Just know, I was there asking if he had found any living relatives to take you in…He had not.”
Not surprising. Death had already told him that, before leaving him to fucking fend for himself in his eight year old body.
Callie takes another deep breath.
“So..I proposed for me to be your guardian. Permanently.”
Huh?
“He said yes.”
He stares blankly at her, in shock, wondering if he is hearing things?
“
What?
” He asks, his voice barely audible over the sound of the white noise that has taken over his thoughts.
“It’s your choice of course, I won’t force you to stay here.” She says, nervously.
Harry smiles as tears gather in his eyes, his voice shaky and hesitant as he speaks.
“I would like to stay,
please
.”
He knew this probably wouldn’t last long, but it was still nice to have hope. Besides, Callie was kind, caring and everything he ever hoped for in a guardian. Well- technically the only things he ever hoped for in a guardian was that they didn’t hit him and fed him at least three meals but she didn’t need to know that.
Callie sighs in relief and hugs him, “Thank you,
Thank you
.” she whispers, holding him tightly.
He wasn’t quite sure why she was thanking him about him staying, but he thinks it has something to do with her having no kids of her own as well as not much family in general.
Huh. Does this make her his mom? And him her son?
His face burns in embarrassment,
of course
that wasn’t the case! (Though he wouldn’t object it, if it was)
Callie finally pulls away, using her hand to gently brush away his loose hairs.
She’s watching him fondly and Harry can’t help but glance away in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being watched so closely in such a nice manner.
Callies sighs, and Harry was glad to find that it wasn’t in a bad way, more…
relaxed
. As if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She stands up, brushing out any wrinkles in her robe.
“I’m afraid I must be on my way now; I believe it is time to give Mr. Ledger an in-person meeting so paperwork can be more efficiently finished.” She smiles at his pout, “I promise I won’t take very long; you are free to begin eating lunch without me if Mipsy is finished, I don’t mind.”
Harry thinks for a moment before shaking his head, “I’m okay with waiting, I still have the chocolate pudding to eat.” And with that he grabs the small bowl eager to dig in. It wasn’t a treacle tart by any means but desert was desert.
Callie laughs at his eagerness, before nodding her goodbye.
Harry smiles brightly as he savors his first bite of pudding, maybe this new life really wasn’t going to be as bad as the first one. At Least he hopes so.
But whether it is or not, he’s going to greatly enjoy not being a child soldier preparing for war for once and actually having a childhood.
Yeah, this was going to be
great
.