'Please, let me be anywhere else, anywhere but here'
It was the thought that came to him 6 years ago, when he was hiding from Dudley and his gang. It was a thought he had regretted ever since. Because right now, Harry would gladly give up his arm to live in that cupboard again. In a home with accessible food, a safe place to sleep, and the only requirement was good behavior. It was a place where he didn't have to spend every moment fighting for his life, despite only being 11.
Harry crawled across the rafter at the top of the room, looking down carefully. A Big Daddy and a Little Sister stood there. She was gathering ADAM from a splicer who had tried to attack earlier, humming to herself in contentment. Harry sneered, then glanced past them to the Circus of Values vending machine behind them. His stomach rumbled lightly, reminding him of how hungry he was. He glanced down at the girl and monster again. The vending machine was far enough away from the two that they probably wouldn't bother him if he didn't bother them. On the other hand, if he went for the ADAM, the fight with the Big Daddy might destroy the machine by accident. He hadn't had any ADAM in ages, though.
Harry winced as he realized he had been placing a higher value on the ADAM than on survival. He didn't stand a chance against a Big Daddy, and he was literally starving to death right now. He mentally smacked himself and, before he could think about it more, crawled along the rafter past the Little Sister. He knew he was better off than most splicers, he managed to keep most of his mind, but every now and then the sheer need for ADAM snuck up on him. He wasn't sure why he had a relative immunity to ADAM and splicing, but it was constantly protecting his mind and body from the harsh abuse of the drug. However, it wasn't perfect and he could feel his immunity slowly wearing away. He couldn't blame his mother, she had done what she thought was best, but he also often resented her for splicing him.
6 years ago, when he had arrived, he'd been a lost little five year old in hell. As the splicers descended, he ran. However, a specific splicer came to his rescue. A female spider splicer came through and decimated those following him. Then she turned to him with wide eyes and held his face close to her masked one.
"Eric," she said, breathlessly. Harry didn't respond, he didn't correct her, he was in too much shock from seeing her cut down all the people chasing him, leaving blood everywhere.
The woman, she told Harry to call her Mom, helped take care of him for a while. She always called him Eric, and Harry had been too scared to insist otherwise. She would sometimes hold him, filling his nose with the smell of rot, and coo over him like there was nothing else she would rather do. At moments like that, he wondered if that was what it was like to be loved. Other times, she would vanish for days. He couldn't fault her though, she'd taught him how to fight and how to survive in this world.
He still remembered the day she spliced him. When he was 6 years old, after living in Rapture for several months, she crawled to him in their nest in the rafters, carrying the body of a dead girl his own age, demented and smiling. After that was pain. She said it was to make him more like her. She was dragging him into her hell, she wanted him to suffer in the same way as her, even as she wanted to protect him.
Harry killed her a year later.
Leaping down from the rafter, he landed in front of the vending machine. He held his mother's claw on one arm (that, her bunny mask, and the nest were all he had left) and used it to scrape open the front of the machine. He reached in and grabbed as much food as he could, stuffing pastries and chip bags into his pockets. He ignored the EVE bottles that came tumbling out. They gave him a bit of energy and tasted good, but otherwise he didn't really understand why some of the other splicers went after them like they were ADAM.
"Hello," a voice said behind him. A little girl's voice. Harry's eyes widened and he spun around, holding the claw in one hand as his other hand lit up with blue lightening. The Little Sister was standing a little closer than comfortable, and the Big Daddy was watching him carefully, raising its drill in response to Harry's own weapons. Harry carefully lowered them, and the monster followed. He kept an eye on it anyway.
"Hello," he responded to the girl.
"How old are you?" She asked.
"I'm eleven," said Harry.
"Really?! Me too!" She said, smiling. "Why are you at this party though, if you're 11? I thought it was mostly for adults."
"Party?" Harry asked. She nodded. "Um, I don't really know what party you're talking about."
"Well, this one, silly! Did your parents bring you?" She asked, looking behind him like she expected them to pop out from no where. In doing so, she took a couple steps closer. The Big Daddy was raising its weapons again. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, like the sound of a gunshot nearby. This is normal, and Harry jumped a little, but the Big Daddy jumped a lot. It roared and charged Harry, thinking he'd shot.
"Mr. Bubbles!" The Little Sister yelled, but Harry was already scrambling up the wall to avoid being killed by the giant metal titan. He'd heard that some full grown splicers could take down the behemoths, but even with some of the tonics he'd taken, he was just a kid. Luckily, he managed to scramble up the wall and into the rafters, barely managing to avoid the bullets as the Big Daddy pulled out a gun and started shooting at him. He scowled the whole way during his retreat, wondering just who in the world had almost gotten him killed.
Taking a short break in the relative safety of the iron bars crisscrossing the ceiling, he reached into his pockets and pulled out the pastries. As he ate them, he looked down across the ground. This was the general area where the sound had come from, he was pretty sure, but he didn't see any dead splicers anywhere.
Instead, an old man was sitting on a bench, looking around curiously. Harry blinked as he silently crawled across one of the bars. The man wore a bright purple dress with yellow stars and a matching hat. His dress sense certainly fit into Rapture, but there were no marks on his clothing at all. It was strange, the man looked ancient. For a moment, Harry was struck by the absurd thought that maybe the surreal old man was God, but he shook his head to be rid of the ridiculous notion. There was no such thing as God, humanity is God.
Geez, how had the man survived for so long? More than that, he showed no signs of splicing whatsoever, no scars or deformities or anything along those lines! Harry rubbed his arms. The scars cause by plasmids ran up and down both, creating a cracked pattern that burned into his skin every time he moved. The rest of his skin was lightly spotted with scar tissue, and his scar on his forehead had become surrounded by a small ring of scar tissue (making it even more unusual and rather annoying). Overall though, Harry had been lucky in avoiding really bad mutations. He probably had his strange immunity to thank for that.
The old man was just going to continue sitting there! Harry could jump down and slice his neck open before he could do anything about it! In fact, why was he the only one here? Harry frowned as he suddenly realized that, in this very large room, he was the only splicer to come. There had been a Little Sister just a couple hallways down! This place should be crawling with splicers! But no, not a single sign of them. Why? And why was the old man still here? Was he waiting for someone?
With a jolt, Harry suddenly realized just who he was waiting for. After all, he had been the only splicer to get into the room, so who else could it be?
Harry ran across the bar and deftly lowered himself to the ground silently behind the old man. He walked around and into the man's vision. The old man visibly startled, staring at him with wide eyes. Harry didn't light a plasmid, but he gripped his hook on his arm to remind himself of the weapon.
"Oh, Harry..." the man said, looking at him sadly. He reached up towards Harry's mask, but Harry jumped back, raising his bloody hook in response. The man pulled his arm back to him and looked at Harry with eyes full of pity.
"How do you know my name?" Harry eventually asked.
"I knew your parents. They were wonderful people." The man said. "Perhaps I am being rude though. After all, I know your name but you still do not know mine. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, though you can just call me Professor Dumbledore for short. I teach at a special school, the one where your parents went to, and I've come to offer you a place there."
"One my parents went to...you mean the school is up there?" Harry asked, gesturing upward. Was this man his ticket to freedom? Was he about to get his ride out of this hell?
"Yes, it is, though there are some stipends. You'll have to live with the Dursleys again, I'm afraid, and - "
"Yes!" said Harry, not even caring about whatever rules or regulations he might have to live with. He didn't care about anything right now. He was about to leave Rapture! Dumbledore just blinked at the interruption and smiled sadly at him.
"Alright, come here and grab my arm. Hold on tightly, the transportation can be a little uncomfortable," said Dumbledore. Harry nodded and walked over, grabbing onto the man's arm with one hand, though his other tightened around the hook.
There was a moment of being squeezed and dragged, before Harry suddenly landed on his feet. He noticed two things right away. One was the feeling of dirt between his toes instead of the metal he'd been feeling ever since he outgrew his shoes. The other was the light.
"Agh!" Harry cried out, crouching down to hide his head between his legs as he reached up to cover his eyes. The area around him felt warm, and he could feel the light as it continued to shine down on him like a hammer.
"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, crouching down next to him. Harry had an urge to slice his face open with his hook for causing him this pain, but protecting his eyes from the light was a higher priority. Then he remembered that hurting others for hurting you was what splicers did, not humans.
'I'm not like the other splicers. My name is Harry James Potter, and I am human. I'm not like the other splicers. My name is Harry James Potter, and I am human,' he chanted to himself mentally. He didn't respond to Dumbledore's inquiry. However, when Dumbledore reached out a hand to gently touch his shoulder, Harry snarled at the man and rolled away without opening his eyes. A few feet from the man, he remained in the same position with his eyes covered and his head tucked between his legs. Dumbledore got the message and didn't try to touch Harry again. He stood there, waiting patiently.
Slowly, Harry wiggled his toes. His eyes were still closed and covered, keeping out the painful light, but he could still feel the dirt beneath him. He didn't know where he was, but right now, he didn't much care. He wiggled his toes again, feeling how the soft dirt seeped between them. It was moist, and scratchy, and a bit sticky. It was also soft, a bit cold, and entirely different from the metal of Rapture.
Harry gingerly removed his hands from his mask, but kept his eyes closed. He placed his hands flat against the ground as red light filled his vision from the bright light moving through his eyelids. He felt the soft ground with his palms, ignoring how his mother's claw dug into his arm from being pushed against the ground at this angle.
"Albus, I – oh my!" A woman's voice said. It sounded old. Harry didn't look up, trying to adjust to the light with his head still curled up in his legs.
"It's alright Minerva. I've brought him here to see Madam Pomfrey."
"Is that Harry?"
"Yes, it is."
"I'm not an it," Harry interrupted. "The other Splicers are 'it's. I'm not like them. My name is Harry James Potter, I'm human." The red light was a bit bearable. Harry tried slowly opening one eye and winced at the onslaught of light. However, he was able to hold off the pain by being fascinated with seeing dirt for the first time in years.
"You're right, you are human. You are Harry James Potter. And here, you are safe," Dumbledore said gently. Harry slowly opened his eyes further, ignoring the old man once again. He stared at the dirt with fascination. He reached forward with his right arm and gently pushed his hand against the ground in front of him. He watched the moist dirt squeeze between his fingers.
"Perhaps bringing him to Hogwarts was a bad idea, Albus. It may be too much stimulation," the old woman said.
"He needs to see a doctor," Dumbledore replied gently, "And Hogwarts is empty of students right now. St. Mungo's is too crowded, and I don't think he would handle it well. Besides, he would have to go eventually anyways, it is probably better to get any shocks out of the way now while there aren't any students around to crowd him."
"A doctor?" Harry asked hoarsely. "Like Dr. Steinman?" His mother had talked about him. She'd praised him constantly, saying that if they could get an appointment to see him, he could fix them both up. Harry hadn't been able to find him after her death. She always said that if they could just see Steinman, everything would be better.
"Perhaps they are similar. Her name is Madam Pomfrey, she is a medi-witch. She is very kind and is hoping to help you," Dumbledore explained gently. Harry had both his eyes open and staring fixedly at the dirt.
"I...would like to see a doctor," Harry eventually said. Maybe she could give him some ADAM, he was starting to get a headache again. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the ground, wincing as the bright light again assaulted his vision. He looked around, blinking constantly as he adjusted. They were in a small town, with buildings made of wood and only a few people walking about. Though, they were all staring at him. Harry looked in wonder at their clothing, which consisted of long gowns. He'd only ever seen one person wearing a long dress in Rapture, a woman who sang at Fort Frolic. He'd spotted her while moving across the rafters. Clothing had a tendency to get ruined in Rapture. Harry's own clothes consisted of shin length torn pants and a plain torn dress shirt, both of which he'd stolen from dead splicers. He'd managed to keep the sleeves from getting ruined though! And his pants had pockets!
Harry slowly stood up, spinning around in place as he looked around at the buildings and the people. Finally, he saw Dumbledore and the woman he'd been talking to. He was right, she was old, though not as old as Dumbledore. It was strange to see old people, there weren't any in Rapture. They'd all been killed off pretty quickly, unable to fight for the ADAM that all the splicers raged over. The old woman had her hair pulled up in a bun and wore a long green dress similar to the purple and yellow one worn by Dumbledore.
"Hello," Harry said, looking at her. She had schooled her face somewhat, but her eyes were still wide in horror as they took in his appearance. Harry, feeling a bit self conscious, looked down at himself, but didn't see anything wrong.
"What?" He finally asked. The woman shook her head, gently but sadly as Dumbledore placed one hand on her arm in reassurance.
"My name is Minerva McGonagall, I will be one of your teachers this fall," she said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. Harry looked at it and raised his own right hand to shake it, angling his arm to the hook didn't slice into the woman's arms. As soon as she released his hand, he grabbed the bar on the hook again. It felt weird not to, even if the thing was mounted on his arm.
"I'm Harry," he said. She nodded.
"Well, enough dillydallying, up to Hogwarts we go!" Dumbledore said cheerily, rubbing his hands together.
"Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"It's the name of the school," McGonagall answered. She gestured up the road and Harry's eyes widened when he saw the castle sitting up on the hill. Slowly, the trio ventured up the hill to the enormous castle.
Harry kept pausing every time they crossed a new terrain. Once they were on the cobbled path, he paused and pressed his feet against the stone gently. He bent down to poke at it, to feel it, to learn about the cobbled road. McGonagall finally said something when he started trying to pry a stone from the road with his hook. He ignored her and continued poking at the road. McGonagall and Dumbledore ended up waiting for another half hour before Harry decided he was ready to continue on, though he walked slowly as he looked at the ground.
Once they reached the threshold of the grounds, Harry paused as he saw the lush grass. He immediately ran over to it to begin poking at it like he had with the cobblestone path. McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore to see him looking at the boy with pity.
"What happened to him?" She asked quietly. The two of them were waiting on the path, letting Harry explore in his own time.
"I don't know, but I have my suspicions," Dumbledore responded, sighing quietly. "As you know, all of the owls being sent to him were coming back with the letters still in their claws. I suspected Harry's family was trying to hide the truth from him at first, so I sent Hagrid. But the Dursleys said that Harry had vanished several years ago from his Elementary School. With Petunia's cooperation, reluctant, admittedly, but willing nonetheless, I was able to use the blood connection between them to track him down. I apparated to the location and immediately spelled the area with an anti-muggle charm.
"Well, I'm sure you could imagine my surprise when I found myself in a beautiful glass and metal building underwater. The architecture and view were amazing. It wasn't for a few minutes that I noticed something else. The entire compound appeared abandoned, and the only signs I could see of life were blood stains on the carpets. Then something caught my eye. Out one of the glass windows, I saw two people in another building, fighting. One of the two men killed the other, though I do not know what the weapon used was. That, combined with the bloodstains on the carpet in my own room, told me that it definitely wasn't the beautiful city I thought it was. I don't know very much about that place, but it is clear how it has affected Harry, and I hope that we can fix it." Dumbledore looked over at Harry sadly, McGonagall following his gaze and looking at Harry with pity. What kind of environment was that city?
She could see the rusted blade he wore attached to his arm, though how much of it was rust and how much was dried blood was something she didn't want to know. He was dirty and unwashed, his black hair hanging down in greasy locks, rather resembling Snape. He wore a rabbit mask decorated with dried blood and patterned paint, his mouth just barely peeking out the bottom. His shirt was a few sizes too big and hung down around him, and his pants were torn into shreds beneath his knees. He wore no shoes, which was probably why he insisted on stopping every time they came across new walking ground, and his hands looked horribly scarred. From what she could tell, he was unhealthily skinny, but he also seemed to be quite athletic.
Eventually, they managed to make it up to the castle and up the stairs to the hospital wing. McGonagall found that Harry seemed to be obsessed with touching everything. He wanted to feel the ground every step of the way, and he couldn't stop marveling at the rough but clean bed sheets in the Hospital Wing. He hadn't even given the moving portraits a second glance, though he did seem to be constantly looking up at the ceiling.
"Alright, lets have a look at you," Madam Pomfrey said, moving around him.
"Are you the doctor?" He asked.
"Yes, I am. Though in the Wizarding World I'm technically called a Medi-Witch."
"Huh. Do you have any ADAM?" Harry asked, still picking at the bed sheets, kneeling on the ground to look at them. McGonagall tried not to wince as the hook attached to Harry's arm sliced through the cloth.
"No, I don't. And stop that! Sit up here where I can see you properly!" She said sternly. Harry looked at her, completely dumbfounded, as if he'd never been given orders before.
"Well? Up!" Madam Pomfrey commanded. Harry gripped the edge of the bed frame and did a strange flip that ended with him sitting on the opposite side of the bed, facing Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall winced. Were people supposed to bend that way? Harry was staring at Madam Pomfrey like he'd never seen anything like her before.
And, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't. Sure, he been given orders before, but they'd never been gently said. They had always come in the form of his mother dragging him by his hair, or one of the splicers trying to get him to come out of hiding. It reminded him of the Dursleys, and it was both refreshing and strange. He wasn't sure if he liked it. If Rapture had taught him one thing (though, really, it taught him many), it was that a person chooses, a slave obeys. If he found he did not like it here, then he would leave. Simple as that. Frankly though, he'd found that he enjoyed 'here' quite a lot so far.
"Are you sure you don't have any? Mom told me the Doctor had an unlimited supply," Harry said. Madam Pomfrey made an odd face as she looked at him, waving a small stick around him. Harry watched it and the colors it shot out in fascination.
"I'm afraid I've never heard of ADAM. Could you tell me about it? Perhaps I know it by another name," She said carefully, waving her wand before a small chart of a human. Different spots on the chart lit up different colors, especially a black spot in the head and a giant purple spot in the chest. Harry wondered what they meant.
"Well, it's ADAM. It's, uh, I guess it's a bit hard to describe. I don't remember where it comes from, but I think someone told me it came from an animal of some kind. I don't really know, I usually get it as a present from the Little Sisters since I'm nice to them and we're the same age. They like me. I always have to be super careful not to scare the Big Daddies though." Harry explained, thinking about one particular Little Sister, Helena, who'd managed to track down his nest and visited him every now and then for several years. They were always under the impression that they were at some kind of party, though Harry had yet to get any details about it from them. He really wanted to see the world the same way they did.
"I see. How did the, uh, Little Sisters give you the ADAM?" She asked carefully. Harry tilted his head.
"Well, they had a large needle. Whenever one of the Little Sisters agreed to give me ADAM, she would put the needle into my arm and, well, that's how I got it. Except for the very first time. The very first time I had ADAM, my mother killed a Little Sister and used her needle to take all the ADAM from the Little Sister and give it to me, along with a plasmid. Though she took a lot for herself, too. Heh, did you know the Little Sisters call the ADAM Angel Juice? They have some weird names for things." said Harry.
"I see. Why don't you tell me about your mother?" Madam Pomfrey asked, waving her wand a bit more, especially over Harry's arms. She glanced over at Dumbledore and McGonagall, the two were watching and listening to the strange tale.
"She wasn't really my mother, but she never told me her name and every time I asked she said to call her Mom. I know my real mother died in a car crash when I was one, Aunt Petunia told me ages ago. When I first got to Rapture, Mom found me and took care of me. She thought I was her dead kid Eric, but it's alright, she was very nice and helpful and usually made sure I was fed. About two years, I think, it's a bit hard to tell time down there, after she found me, she realized that I wasn't Eric. See, she remembered Eric as a four or five year old and when I turned seven, I started looking too different from how she remembered Eric. She attacked me, but I managed to kill her first," Harry explained with a generally disinterested tone. One might have thought he was discussing the price of apples rather than his adoptive mother's death at his own hands. Madam Pomfrey wasn't sure how to respond, so she just hummed her acknowledgment.
"Alright. Here, take this medicine for now while I talk with the Professors. Will you be alright here by yourself?" She asked. Harry just looked at her, confused.
"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked. Madam Pomfrey shook her head and handed Harry the small blue potion she had. He swirled it in the bottle, watching it. It kind of looked like EVE.
"Nevermind. Don't touch anything. I'll be right back." She said, turning to the two teachers. Harry uncorked the bottle and sniffed. It smelled like EVE too.
Madam Pomfrey led Dumbledore and McGonagall out into the hallway, closing the door after checking that Harry was drinking the potion. With a flick of her wand, she locked the door and turned to her guests. For a moment, all three were silent in grief.
"I don't know what he's been doing or eating, but his entire body has been destroyed. There's a drug in his system that is attacking all his cells, his blood, and even his magic. His magic was abnormally low, and I think it's because it is busy fighting the drug. I can cleanse the drug from his system, but the recovery will take years, and certain mutations caused by the drug are completely irreversible. He is heavily malnourished, and besides that primary drug his body is filled with toxins. Many of his bones have been broken and set incorrectly, though nothing is broken right now."
"So he is not currently in life-threatening danger?" Dumbledore asked.
"But what about the blood on his clothes and...that mask?" McGonagall asked. Madam Pomfrey shook her head.
"It's not his. I don't know who it belonged to, but Harry is currently in a condition. Physically, at least. I fear I have no idea of the effects on his mind and can only venture a guess. He will be staying here for the rest of the summer and all breaks for at least his first year. Most likely his second year as well, but that will depend on him. Seeing as his magic is fighting against the mutations permeating his body, I can only hope that staying in a magic saturated environment as well as forced deprivation of the drugs will be able to work a miracle," she said. Dumbledore nodded seriously.
"Yes, I believe that is for the best. The blood wards are still active, I noticed, so Harry's prolonged absence from the Dursley household has not affected their condition. However, I believe that is because Harry still considers their house to be his home and remembers them with fondness. Whether or not they treated him well, I suspect he was better off there than in that underwater city these last few years," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps it is for the best that he doesn't return to their care for a little while yet."
"You're still going to send him back to them?" McGonagall asked in shock. Dumbledore nodded sadly.
"Yes. The blood wards were able to continue to protect him because he still thought of the Dursley household as his home. His physical presence in the building was not absolutely necessary. However, if he begins to consider Hogwarts a home after living here for the next year, then he will need to live with them for at least a couple weeks so the wards can be renewed by proximity." All three were quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Well, it is far too early to be trying to figure out Harry's schedule for next summer. Lets focus on the now and see how he's doing when the time comes." Madam Pomfrey finally said. The three adults walked back into the room, and instantly noticed that Harry was missing.
"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall called out hesitantly as the room became tense.
"Up here," his voice responded. The three adults looked up to see Harry hanging from the ceiling. His bare feet gripped the stone like a monkey and the hook on his arm was wedged into a crack between the stones, his other hand gripping one of the other bricks. With a small flip, he fell from the ceiling and landed in front of them. His wide grin was easily visible, and combined with the still bloody mask covering the upper half of his face it made for a very creepy image. McGonagall took a moment to wonder at how strong his finger and foot muscles must be for him to hold himself up like that.
"Sorry, EVE gives me a lot of energy," he explained.
"EVE?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Harry blinked, confused.
"Uh, yeah, EVE," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the empty glass bottle on his bedside table.
"I see," Madam Pomfrey said, looking at the bottle, "Here we call it a magic enhancer potion. It's meant to act as a short boost to your magical core, to help patients recovering from surgeries or magical diseases." Harry tilted his head, thinking that over.
"Magic?" he finally asked. Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and McGonagall all looked at each other in confusion. He didn't know what magic was?