Of Unstable Minds and Other Worlds
PREFACE
Harry Potter. The Boy-who-lived. A sixteen year old wizard who fought tooth and nail to conquer the world's resident Dark Wizard, the Dark Lord Voldemort.
It has been several months since Thomas Marvolo Riddle aka Lord Voldemort's demise at the hand of a teenager and Harry has not had a single moment to himself since.
A book has already been published about his first year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it has been entitled The Philosopher's Stone.
Ron had been interviewed for the details Harry had refused any and all reporters or well-wishers since that terrible night. Though the war was won by the Light Side, there were so many casualties on both sides to turn any celebrations sour with sorrow.
After six years in a magical school full of perilous adventures and almost a full year on the run from the Dark Lord on a suicidal quest to destroy Tom Riddle's Horcruxes, bits and pieces of his soul anchored in objects and living things, Harry had finally ended the war with his signature spell.
An expeliarmus to counteract the famous Killing Curse -Avada Kedavra- which resulted in the fusing of magical power between the opposing wands where Harry by sheer stubbornness managed to overload Voldemort's wand and make it explode- along with its holder- to kingdom come.
The rest was history as they say. Harry Potter became even more famous than he had already been and the weight of the people's awe, expectations and often enough, jealousy and anger, rendered any kind of private life for the young man virtually nonviable.
His friends, though famous as well, were less hassled and thus found it easier to move on with their lives. Harry couldn't find it in his heart to grudge them their actions nor their need to distance themselves from him. To be quite honest, he would have been very happy to distance himself from himself. But that was not possible...unless one was to visit the Magical Psych Ward and steal a few choice potions to drug themselves into oblivion. But Harry had become an icon, and no way was he approaching any public places without at least several dozen admirers trailing behind him like slobbering lost puppies.
Harry Potter sighed quietly to himself as he sneaked a glance up to the examiner.
Here he was, a mere six months after his defeat of Voldemort, retaking his NEWTs and he was currently botching up his potion because the examiner was busy gazing at him in adoration instead of actually looking his work over.
It was creepy and Harry never could get used to it, despite it happening quite frequently.
This wasn't the life he'd envisioned after he defeated Moldy-Shorts. To be quite honest Harry had never envisioned actually surviving ! Especially when he discovered he detained a fragment of Voldemorts soul in his forehead, result of the failed Avada Kedavra the Ugly Snake Wanna-be Dark Lord cast on him when he was barely a year old. Crazy it was.
The potion gave a strange whizzing sound, followed by a burp as Harry added the Rosemary.
Another glance to Professor 'Trancilly-call-me-Trilly' confirmed that she hadn't gotten bored of making googley eyes at him yet and he wondered if the cauldron was really supposed to start changing colours around the edges. No use asking, the professor would just insist again that he be more familiar with her and then proceed to invite him for coffee or something else later on after his test.
Sighing yet again, Harry ignored his misgivings and dumped the chopped Ginger roots into the mix.
Without further ado, the abused potion decided it had had enough. It bubbled up and over in less than half a second, leaving only time for Harry to take a half surprised step back before it exploded in a magnificent show of entrails and green sluggish residue.
Burning pieces of cauldron fell back onto the table, Harry's foot, shoulder and finally, his head, knocking him out with one last thought filtering through :
Ah...maybe now she'll stop staring...
Unlikely.
When Harry woke he knew something wasn't right.
The fact that his glasses were nowhere to be seen and that he was still lying on a cold, uneven floor, stone his mind supplied for him, only drove the point home.
His potion had exploded and that bloody ponce of a woman had left him on the ground ! -Harry fumed silently, closing him eyes tiredly and bringing his arm up to rub his scar as he was prone to do when he could feel headaches loom up behind his eyeballs. Old habits die hard.
Soft footfalls pulled him from his morbid thoughts of inflicting the full Potter Rage upon the useless woman and sending him into a mad scramble for his wand...you never knew who could be turning around the corner...CONSTANT VIGILANCE !
And that's when he realized that once again, he was playing Fate's Bitch and that not only this little stunt had injured and covered him in goo, he found the goo had melted his clothes away...and left his skin with burns all over.
Though if Harry were quite honest with himself, he preferred the adrenaline of being once again thrown into the unknown(...buck-naked and wandless not withstanding) to being in the presence of that insufferable professor and the wizarding world's adoring or accusing gaze.
"Oh merlin ! Are you alright ?" Apparently while he was lamenting to himself about his penchant for always being in trouble, the person had come around the corner and spotted him.
They knelt next to him and hurriedly looked him over.
Young, female voice and soft hands...newbie then. From the easy way she was looking him over, most probably a healer trainee. Great. Either she'd squeal and ask for a wizardgraph from the Famous Harry Potter (yes the capital 'F' was necessary) either she'd sneer and tell him she wouldn't heal someone who « could have off-ed the Dark Dork faster and spared such and such ».
Except that the healer trainee did neither. She simply continued panicking at his burns and general naked-ness and the horrible (though thankfully non-smelling) goo all around and still on him.
Maybe this should have alerted Harry to several important things; such as, if the 'useless professor' had simply left him on the ground like that, where were the rest of the smashed ingredients he hadn't had the time to use yet ? Where was the desk ? Or what was left of it anyway.
And most of all, why did it look like the room hadn't been used in at least a few months ?
As it was, Harry was just too exhausted and so, despite his paranoia and his feeble attempts to stay conscious, he sank back into unconsciousness.
The next time he woke, he was lying on a bed, the burns slightly tingling but on their way to healing and he could hear whispers on the other side of white curtains pulled around his hospital bed.
If he had to hazard a guess, he would have said he was at Saint Mungo's.
Just as he was about to try and get up, the curtain was pulled aside and a mediwitch stepped in, closely followed by three Aurors.
'Ah ! You're awake.' The healer apparently wasn't expecting him to crawl back to consciousness so fast. Harry wasn't surprised. Since when did anything ever go as expected with him ?
'I guess it's a good thing then, these men would like a word with you. When they're done I want to run a few diagnostic spells on your person.' The mediwizard opened the door, beckoned someone outside and let in three men dressed in typical red robes before closing the door behind them.
Harry blinked slowly, eyes taking in the three Aurors' suspicious faces and wary stances, careful not to make any jerky movements that could set them off. Especially the youngest Auror who was fidgeting and rolling his wand between his fingers in anticipation of one wrong move.
'How may I help you gentlemen ?' Harry finally asked when the three Aurors didn't say anything.
The first Auror closest to his bed narrowed his eyes slightly at him. He had nondescript brown eyes with curly brown hair coupled with a nice straight nose and slightly wide ears, which reminded Harry of someone, he just couldn't remember who. The man's face was a little too square and his lips chapped. The two behind him had pretty average faces, though the youngest bore glassy blue eyes, as if he'd been up half the night reading Auror textbooks and been dragged from bed only a few hours later.
After another few seconds of silent staring the head Auror finally spoke.
'Greetings.'
Harry inclined his head politely.
'We have a few questions sir, as to how you came to find yourself alone, unclothed and burnt by some unknown liquid in the middle of one of the Ministry's chambers.'
Here the man took a small step forward, bringing out his wand and Harry stiffened, cursing the fact that his own wand was nowhere near him at the moment.
'And with all that's happening these days, you can understand why we must cast the Truth Spell.'
Harry narrowed his eyes. The Truth Spell ? Were they taking him for some kind of idiot ? Did they suddenly make that up ?
Nevertheless Harry had no choice but to nod silently and hope that, like the 'Imperio', he could fight it off if they suddenly asked unwanted questions.
He could have wandlessly sent several stunners at them but he had no idea of their expertise nor if there were more outside and it was never a good idea to show potential enemies your best card on the first round.
The Auror made two slashes of the wrist and a half circle, muttering something intelligible and suddenly harry was surrounded by a thin grey mist.
The youngest Auror took out a notebook and quill and got ready to jolt down anything of importance.
"Please state your name and occupation."
Now Harry was suspicious enough, not to mention paranoid, to not just give out his name to people who apparently hadn't recognized him. Where had they been living these past few years ? Under a rock ? Though it was a nice change to be able to introduce himself once again without having people scream his name.
"Harrison Porter, student." There. An alias close enough to his real name he'd have no problem reacting to it if people were to call him that. "And yourself ?" The mist darkened a little which did not seem to please either of the three.
It wasn't so much baiting on Harry's part as it was trying to know more about the Auror and figuring out what the hell kind of a joke this was. If the guy told him a name like RedWeasel or P.I Staker then he'd know for sure that Ginny had, once again, pranked him in the hopes of waking George up from the blank state he'd fallen into ever since his brother's death.
'Head Auror Longbottom.' The Auror stated, inclining his head.
And then Harry's brain shut down. Longbottom ?
'How did you arrive inside the Ministry without a pass ?'
Harry's mind scrambled to come back to reality.
'I came in to pass my NEWTS Potion exam.' The mist turned white.
The head Auror remained impassive but the youngest frowned. Apparently something about his answer confused them.
"What was the substance we found on you ?"
"A botched up attempt to brew the Woflsbane Potion."
Again the mist turned white before seeping back to clear gray and the two Aurors at the back sent each other quick looks.
"What is the Wolfsbane Potion ?"
Here Harry frowned. What was going on ? How could they not know it ? Especially since Hermione and Ron had become business partners in making and commercialising it, making sure the remedy was available to all the werewolves in the world. It had been very useful when they fought the second Wizarding war because many werewolves joined their cause in order to have access to the magical brew. Harry had made sure at the end that all profits made from those potions were turned to the Weasley family and the Grangers. It had been the least he could do.
Responding very carefully, Harry fixed his whole attention on the Aurors, pushing the depressing thoughts out of his mind for the moment, looking for the slightest clue to help him understand.
"The Wolfsbane potion is a draught to help the transformation of werewolves as well as helping them retain their human state of minds."
More frantic note taking, more incredulous glances.
"So you were inventing a new potion and it...what...exploded ?"
"I put in two ingredients that react badly together and it did indeed bubble over then explode."
There, not denying, not confirming that he'd invented the potion. The mist turned white again.
"I see." The head Auror turned to the two men behind him, gazing calculatingly at the notes the youngest had taken before turning back to Harry.
"Would you be acquainted with a Neville perhaps?" Harry enquired after a few minutes of silent staring. Though he hadn't meant it, the question seemed to throw the Auror for a loop and his eyes hardened in a look Harry recognized well.
"He is my son."
'Could you...could I have the date please ?' Harry whispered, eyes taking in the Auror before him, noting small scars here and there, what seemed like a sizeable thick one going up his wrist and hidden by the long sleeves of his robes.
'It is October the 24th.' The third Auror who'd remained silent up to now answered snidely.
His voice was rough and grating, not something Harry liked to hear...and fortunately..or unfortunately he suddenly processed what he'd just heard.
"What ?"
Okay abandon all tries at staying calm. "I've been asleep two months ?" Harry would later swear he hadn't squeaked...more like his voice had gone up several octaves.
And suddenly he stopped and looked at them again. "What year ?"
The annoying, silent Auror didn't say anything except to lift an eyebrow so Harry shifted his gaze to the youngest, who, faced with commanding Avada-Kedavra-green eyes felt obliged to answer.
"October 24th, 2001"
And Harry fainted...erm...manly lost consciousness.
Harry blinked awake for the second time and, focused on the white ceiling and drapes, let the remnants of nightmares and dark memories fade back into his consciousness.
Voices at his curtain made him sit up warily and peer through a gap in the drapes.
And that's when he understood how seriously wrong this whole scenario was. There she was...Tonks...alive and well and visibly pouting, hair turning a sullen brown as her superior, the Auror who'd previously interrogated Harry ordered her in harsh whispers to : « keep your comments to yourself and watch him until further notice. »
Closing his eyes and taking a moment to inhale softly, Harry almost let out a sob as the reality of his situation came crashing down upon him. Now was not the time, Harry thought to himself, he had to figure out what had happened and see about getting home. Breathing deeply a few times helped and Harry opened his eyes again to take in his surroundings more carefully.
What was this place ? What had he done...what kind of parallel universe was this ?
The Hospital-wing didn't seem different but did such establishments change often?
The endless stream of questions which flowed through Harry's mind didn't help his climbing apprehension, after all -how was he going to get out of this without even the clothes on his back. Coming back to the situation at hand ,he knew without a doubt that this wasn't the Tonks he once knew and could not afford to trust her blindly despite wanting to. Her death along Remus' had been one of the most violent ones...one he often shamefully wished he hadn't witnessed for it had caused many of his recurring nightmares.
Testing out his strength, Harry dearly hoped his magic was replenished enough for his escape plan because if not...he was in deep shite.
« Uhm...Hello ? » He called out weakly, purposefully slumping slightly on his side, facing towards where he suspected Tonks would appear. And appear she did, all brown hair and cheery eyes. Though she did look him over cautiously before fully pulling the curtains aside and nodding to him.
Ah. Not allowed to speak to him. Never mind. Harry made a show of trying to sit up further, mentally grinning when her compassionate heart gave and Tonk took a step closer to help. 'Not so different after all my dear Tonks.'
And that's when he struck. As soon as her arm was within reaching distance Harry's hand lashed out and pinched her skin, sending a jolt of magic into her system and knocking her out cold.
He caught her as she crashed forward into his bed and was almost dragged to the floor because of her weight.
Shivering slightly, Harry hopped off the hospital bed, carefully lay Tonks onto it and draped the blanket over her. « I'm sorry. » He whispered to her as he carefully kissed her temple then turned to the magically locked drawer and waved his hand over it.
It popped open with more force than necessary, warning Harry that his reserves were low and matched with his constant bouts of dizziness, he estimated he'd be extenuated within thirty minutes. He would need plenty of rest after this break out.
Harry chuckled as he re-analysed his last thought. It seemed he would never be finished escaping these damn establishments.
His earring and the charred remains of his clothes lay in the drawer but his wand was nowhere to be found and Harry cursed. Bloody cautious Aurors. Never leave a wand around a suspect for him to find.
...that or his wand hadn't made it...which made Harry's heart throb painfully.
Sighing in annoyance, Harry clipped his earring on, transfigured part of the curtain into pants and stole Tonks' coat before limping towards the exit, Tonks' body on his bed temporarily muddling the wards and making them think he hadn't left.
It wouldn't last long, for that Harry was sure which was why he tried to hurry as he looked bewilderedly left and right, trying to remember the last time he'd made an escape from Saint Mungo's.
Deciding left was as good a choice as any, Harry sped off (with a limp) and took another three turns before a blaring alarm temporarily deafened him.
« Shit ! »
Harry limped another two corridors and plastered himself next to a few cabinets as several mediwizards ran past him, not seeing him.
Creeping a look around the corner, Harry let a sigh of relief go as he saw the fireplaces and main apparition points.
« There he is ! »
Harry jumped forward just as a jet of red light exploded into the wall above his head and ran with all his might into the open, heading straight for the nearest fireplace.
« Don't let him get away ! »
« Block all fireplaces ! Put up the anti apparition wards ! » Harry heard yell behind him and just as he reached the fireplace, the logs burned out and he knew they'd been shut down.
« Rats... » He muttered, slumping slightly, using both hands against the fireplace he'd reached to hold himself up, his legs shaking with exhaustion.
« Turn around slowly mister Porter. »
Harry chuckled softly but did so, not surprised to find the Head Auror pointing his wand at him, followed by five or so others and, most of all, Tonks, hair flaming red, testament to her fury.
« Sorry...I was really hoping I wouldn't have to work so hard to get out of here again... » Harry sighed, passing a hand through his messy hair, making it stick oddly on one side.
« We searched through all the registries and no one of the name Harrison Porter came up. » Auror Longbottom took a menacing step forward. « What is your real name ? »
Harry's gaze drifted to Tonks again and he smiled softly at her.
He didn't miss the casual wave of a finger the Head Auror sent to his coworkers nor the step towards him the contingent of Aurors took so with one final look around the terrorized medi-witches and wizards and hostile Aurors, Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head above him, feeling out and reaching the dome stretching around him, preventing him from apparating.
« NOW ! » He dimly heard as he suddenly grabbed a few strands and viciously tore into them, breaking the ward and letting him apparate away just as one of the younger Aurors was reaching for him.
Apparating with an injured body and fuzzy mind was never a smart thing. And Harry was intimately acquainted with that fact when he opened his eyes and found he'd splinched his leg. Not only that, he'd splinched the magically injured leg ! This was going to hurt like a bitch when...if he managed the Splinch Fix spell.
It was a relatively new spell, none-other than Ron had come up with when he'd splinched himself one time too many. Quite improbable and SO not plausible if you'd believe Hermione's constant rants...but there you have it, Ron's first invented spell and, as it turned out, commercialized worldwide, largely replenishing the Weasley family vaults. Ron had continued on and made a business of making up spells, becoming quite renown for them.
« Oh my god ! » A sudden scream and half sob jolted Harry from his reminiscing and he suddenly realized he'd been lying in the middle of a grass park near Little Whinging, his amputated leg visible to the world. And apparently a young, traumatized lady had seen him.
Sighing in exhaustion Harry mindlessly sent an 'Obliviate' towards the poor woman and immediately after cast the 'Splinchus Fixus' (who said Ron had been original in his spell naming?).
His leg reappeared a moment later and slowly, painfully, fixed itself back upon his body, reminding him terribly about that last curse, cast upon his left knee, he'd survived right after killing Voldyschwortz. A curse that wasn't medically (magical or muggle) curable and left him with a permanent limp for the rest of his unusual life.
The pain subsided slightly and Harry grabbed hold of a picnic table near his head and valiantly tried to pull himself up, slipping once, twice and then finally managing it.
And that's when he saw him. « Are you alright ? »
Same voice...same face surrounded by too much fat...but the eyes were different, the expression open.
Harry inhaled sharply, eyes watering slightly.
« Don't move I'll call the ambulance ! » And the large body rushed back to a house a little ways down the street, a small, perfectly normal house, inhabited by a thin horse-faced woman, her obese, easily angered husband and their 'perfect' spoilt son.
« Dudley... » Harry whispered painfully, memories of their horrifying ends flashing before his eyes.
Another sharp inhale had Harry's already dizzy mind reeling all over the place. This place...was surreal.
When he arrived at an abandoned school building at the end of the block Harry sighed in strained relief. Finally he would be able to rest and replenish his magical reserves...and from there he'd start planning. But for now -sleep!
Sticking to the first floor and in a small dusty broom closet, Harry cast his usual Notice-Me-Not charms, Muggle Repellents and simple Alarm Wards before falling asleep in a deep comatose state.
As he slept almost peacefully, the magical world and it's Aurors searched for the mysterious powerful wizard who had broken one of the most powerful Anti-Appparition wards around St Mungo's and just left ! Whilst still injured !
Needless to say that Rita Skeeter wrote two or three articles a day about that for the next week.
The Aurors were restless and annoyed. After a meagre trail of magic near a small, dull town in Surrey, England they hadn't had ONE reading in the past week. Where could the boy have gone ? Considering his state the Aurors had thought he would have gone to a hospital, a muggle one, to finish healing. But no one had been brought to any muggle hospital resembling the boy or having similar magical signature.
Where could he be ?
Cheers!