Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors are looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to help. Pre Epilogue.
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.
Chapter One: A Search and Introductions.
Eleanor Statterin was desperate when she called her old boyfriend.
"Robert, Michael has what they think is a rare type of blood disorder. They're looking for a blood donor that'll match but it's hard because he has a rather odd incompatibility with all the blood they've tried so far," she said on the phone.
Robert O'Neil gripped his cell phone tightly in reaction to the words.
"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes," Eleanor said. "We think there are other cousins on my aunt's side but we can't seem to find anything, even a name. Could you help us find them?"
"I'll do what I can," he said, "but I have to stay within the guidelines of department policies. I'll talk to my boss, see what we can come up with."
"Thanks so much, Robert," Eleanor said. "We're just at our wit's end right now."
"I can understand that," Robert returned. "I'll get started right away.
Give my best to everyone and a good hug to that hellion of yours. He always had a special place in my heart. Like the child we never had."
"Oh you hopeless romantic," Eleanor said with a chuckle. "We would have made beautiful babies together. How's your wife and kids then?"
"Everyone's fine," Robert said. "Roland is nine and loves football.
Wants to play for Manchester United, of course. Mary is seven and as cute and wonderful as can be. Loves horses, naturally. Anyway, I better let you go and get to work. Once again, hugs to everyone, okay?"
"Thanks Robert," Eleanor said.
Detective Constable O'Neil turned to his computer and did a rough search, got a last name that simply dropped out of sight then a couple others and traced the most promising down. The files said he sold mining and drilling equipment, moderately prosperous, though there was a gap in work and income about thirteen years ago. A bit odd for a salesman. Lives in Surrey. That was less than an hour away so he made a call and got a time to talk to them after work. Then he went to his boss and explained the situation with a request to take a couple days off to help find these missing cousins.
Petunia Dursley met Robert at the door with a painted on smile that seemed permanent. "Yes, do come in. Vernon is getting changed. He'll be out in a minute. Would you like a cuppa?"
"That would be most kind of you, ma'am" Robert said politely.
As she handed him the hot cup, Vernon came out to the living room and asked, "What is it we can do for you Constable?"
"For starters, please call me Robert," he said as he stood and shook hands. "This isn't a criminal investigation, I'm helping a friend out. I have permission from my boss to find a relative of Michael Statterin, the son of Eleanor Statterin. We've known each other since school, you see. Anyway,
her son, that's Michael, is in hospital and they're looking for a compatible blood donor. Your son, Dudley, I contacted him already but in searching the family tree there is mention of a Lily Evans but I can't seem to find anything about her. No record after grammar school far as I can tell."
Vernon and Petunia exchanged horrid looks, not at all missed by the constable. Something about Dudley?
"She's dead," Petunia said with a tremor in her voice. "Both of them,
him and my sister both gone. That was a very long time ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said automatically. He saw that look again. "She was married then?"
"Yes, they were," Petunia said. "She had to get mixed up in that ...
with that man."
He saw the two people exchange looks, knew what he was seeing but had to push this to conclusion without offending. "Is there something uncomfortable about all this? I'm only here to help find a donor for Eleanor's son. I don't wish to intrude on any family difficulties."
Vernon snorted then put on a grin like it was a well worn mask. "Oh no, no difficulties anymore."
The grin didn't extend to his eyes, Robert noticed, and got curious about the history here. But he wasn't here for history, he was here in this increasingly complicated and strained situation for reasons other than his personal and professional interest.
"Well, sir, I'm glad to hear that," he said casually. "Are there any children still around?"
A wave of anger passed over Vernon's face.
Petunia glanced at her husband then said, "Yes. A boy. We brought him up but we haven't seen him in years," she said, putting on a face that said she wanted to say more but decided she shouldn't share with a stranger.
"Do you know where he lives now?" Robert asked. Many times he'd been in worse conversations but that was professional. This seemed so much more personal than interviewing a suspect in a crime, like he was rubbing an old scar that still hurt and these people had done nothing to earn a nose-
rubbing.
"I think I can help you," Petunia said, shooting a look toward her husband. "He sent us cards and pictures."
Vernon's face turned pink then red, he sputtered and said, "I thought we agreed to toss that rubbish out!"
Petunia gazed evenly at him with her lips pursed in anger, glanced at Robert then back and said pointedly, "It seems at the moment we could help save a boy's life. We owe him that much, Vernon."
She turned to Robert, tremoring with strain but used a pleasant voice to say, "I have all the pictures he sent. I'll get them. His address is on the envelopes." A sharp look toward Vernon and she walked out of the room.
Vernon sat in his chair with a look on his face that wasn't pleasant and Robert thought back to the last time he'd bollixed something up with the Misses and paid for it later. It looked like Mr. Dursley wasn't going to have a nice evening at all.
"Cost me my promotion," Vernon muttered. "Worthless little git. Had to take leave for a year. Nearly lost the house."
"Pardon sir?" Robert said though he heard every word.
"Never mind," Vernon said, glaring into space.
Petunia returned and handed Robert a handful of letters. "If any of these can help that poor boy out, you use them. If I could ask a favor,
though," she said. Robert nodded and waited.
"Please, I'd like to keep the photographs. His children are just darling."
Another look shot toward her even redder faced husband said it was going to be a long night for the poor fellow. That last remark wasn't for him as Constable or someone trying to find a relative. No, Vernon was going to have a long night.
The return address was from Godric's Hollow, wherever that was. He glanced through the photos, two then three children growing up, the last ones with two boys about ten and eight, both wearing long cloaks, the younger girl a pointed hat with a broom in her hand, one of the old fashioned kind with straw tied to a warped branch. They really were engaging. The picture almost looked like it was alive with the smiles of the three youngsters. He blinked then handed them to Petunia.
"Very nice looking kids," I said. "Once again, I thank you for your time and most generous hospitality."
"He saved my son's life," Petunia said. "Maybe he can save another."
"That is my hope too. Once again my thanks for all your help, Mrs Dursley," he said, slipping his hand into his jacket. "My card. If anything comes up you might think could be helpful."
"Very nice to meet you Constable," Petunia said as he started to his car.
When he was a few blocks away he stopped, opened his phone and typed. "Hmm," he muttered softly. "Too long to drive there today. A phone call would work."
A short search into the police server and he found a phone number,
gave it a ring and got an answering machine. Message left he headed back to the office where he looked up the name on the envelope and found another mystery. No work listed, nothing from Inland Revenue, a driver's license that was current, passport, many trips abroad with family, a lot of money for someone that didn't seem to be earning any. It didn't add up which was triggering his detective sensibilities. But then again, there was no indication of criminal history, no arrests, not even a parking ticket so that left out crime to explain the money and the anger he'd seen.
Even brokers paid corporate taxes but that path wasn't helpful either.
With a warrant he could dig into the records but he didn't want to go that far, not yet, the man wasn't a criminal and deserved his privacy. Then he found nothing in the personals or social nets either. Apparently he had a couple Email addresses and cell phones so that could provide some means of finding out more if he needed to. But it still added up to a mystery.
"So, Mr. Potter, who are you really?" he asked aloud and went back to typing searches.
Back at the hospital later that afternoon he was sitting on Michael's bed with a checkerboard between them while his mother and father were chatting with the doctor away from the boy's hearing.
"So, Michael, you been good while you've been staying here?" he asked.
"Yes, Uncle Robbie," the seven year old boy replied.
"How's the food? Dating any of the nurses yet?" Robert asked.
Michael giggled and moved a piece. "Food's okay. Nurse Clarissa promised me a date but I have to wait til I'm old enough. I'm old enough now don't you think?" The boy looked up with bright eyes.
Robert snickered. "Yes, you just might be, mate. You doing school work while you're here?"
"Yeah," the boy said with a snort. "Mum has Lizzie next door getting it from my teachers. I wish she'd just forget so I don't have to do any more fractions."
Robert made a move on the board to set up a double. "I use fractions all the time at work," he said.
"You do?" Michael asked and absently moved into the trap.
"Well, sometimes anyway," and winked. Both snickered at the joke.
Robert's phone rang and it took a second to realize what the number meant. "No moving my pieces while I'm gone or I'll turn you upside down and dip your hair in the toilet," he told a giggling Michael with a grin, got up and went out in the hall.
"Detective Constable O'Neil. Is this Mr. Potter?"
"Yes sir, it is," the voice said. "What is it I can do for you, Constable?"
"Well, nothing official, not in the legal sense," Robert said to reassure.
"You see, my friend's son is quite ill and the doctors were looking for a blood donor. Eleanor is related to you through your mother's family. We're trying to contact everyone we can to see if there's a suitable match."
"I see," the voice said. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'm available."
"That's very good of you," Robert said. Didn't sound like someone trying to hide anything. "Can you make an appointment with your local physician? I can send the needed information and forms for testing."
"That's quite alright," Harry said over the phone. "Where can I meet you?"
"I'm at Radcliffe Hospital right now," Robert said. "In Oxford. If you like we can set up an appointment here in the next few days, if that's what you'd prefer."
"Just a mo. Let me talk to my wife." A minute later he said, "I can meet you there anytime. Thirty minutes be alright?"
"Are you in Oxford, Mr Potter?" Robert asked.
"Not at the moment," Harry said, "but Radcliffe, that's close to the University. I'll be there as soon as I can get changed and app ... get there.
What's the room number?"
Wondering just how this was going to all happen, Robert said, "Twelve fifty eight but don't put yourself out. Tomorrow would be just fine. I'm just happy you responded. I'm sure the lab here can draw blood for matching in the morning."
There was a pause, then the voice said, "Half an hour. No problem."
When he rang off he couldn't help but wonder more. First a mystery man, his family acting so oddly at the mere mention of him, Vernon's bluster and barely civil, rabid dislike of the man. Then he calls up and says he'll be here in half an hour, traveling half across the country to do it. Maybe he was in London, but no, his phone was in Dorset. At least the dialing code was in Dorset. Perhaps one of those forwarding services.
True to his word, in half an hour there was a knock on Michael's room door. Eleanor got up and there stood a rather smallish man with unruly black hair, an engaging smile and glasses with a small smudge of dirt on one cheek. Robert got up and placed himself between Michael and this man who shouldn't have been able to get where he was standing in so short a time.
"Mrs. Statterin?" the man asked.
"Yes?"
"I believe a Detective known to you has been asking for me,
he said. "My name is Harry Potter. If I can be of any assistance to you or your son I put myself at your disposal. I understand we're related through my mother's family."
Eleanor turned to Robert and got a slight nod. "Do come in Mr. Potter.
This is my son and the light of my life, Michael."
Harry looked at the boy and saw the spots around his neck, frowned,
then put on a happy face. "Glad to meet you, young man. My name is Harry.
How you feeling?"
The boy smiled shyly and shook the offered hand. "Pretty good. I beat Uncle Robbie in checkers today."
"You did?" Harry asked with a friendly voice, moving closer and looking again at the spots under the boy's chin then at the man standing close by.
Didn't seem to be the natural father, they didn't look that much alike. But he did look concerned for the boy.
"Sure did," the boy said and leaned in close to quietly continue, "I think he let me beat him. He does that sometimes but don't tell him I know."
Standing back a little Harry said with all seriousness, "If you're that good at checkers maybe we could play a game of chess if we get the chance."
"I can play chess, a little," Michael said and beamed a grin.
"I just bet you can," Harry said. The hopeful doubt he had faded as he looked at the spots again when the boy raised his chin.
"Mrs. Statterin, you have a fine son and I'd like to take him up on a game or two later, with your permission," Harry said and glanced at the man eying him carefully. Police officer. Had the look. Two and two made four in the Muggle world too.
"Now, I should properly introduce myself to the Constable here. He went to a great deal of trouble to track me down," Harry said.
He turned to O'Neil and offered, "A cup of tea? Then we can talk to the doctors and see if a blood test would be helpful."
Robert saw a look, something that looked familiar, one police officer to another. He made a slight nod of his head in recognition. "I could use a good cuppa. My treat, though."
Harry grinned. "Most hospitable of you sir. Shall we?"
As they waited for the elevator to reach them, Robert asked, "Who do you work for, Mr. Potter?"
"I'm in law enforcement like you," he replied easily,"though I doubt our paths would ever likely cross."
The elevator arrived and they stepped in. A few people waiting started for the door then stopped, the doors shut and they were alone.
"If you don't mind me asking what agency do you work for then?"
Robert asked.
"Auror's Office. Could you tell me what time it is?"
Robert glanced at his watch and said, "Seven thirteen."
"Take my hand," Harry said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Take my hand. I'll explain in a few minutes," Harry said and gently took a hesitant touch of fingers in his. "This'll feel a little strange."
Robert started to say something then the world dropped out from under his feet, twisting him inside out and back again and leaving his stomach roiling. He was standing in darkness, outside, on a lawn when his stomach gave a heave and he lost his lunch on the grass at his feet.
"There, better out than in, like a good friend of mine used to tell us,"
Harry said as he patted the man's shoulder.
Robert managed to stand up, looked around and reacted instinctively,
hand going for his weapon. He saw Harry reach into his sleeve and pull a stick out, pointing it at him just as he got his service automatic out of the holster. As he raised it he heard words.
"Accio bullets cenare'."
There was a slight tug on his gun hand as he continued to raise it,
pointing the barrel at center mass without thinking then adjusting his stance.
Harry smiled then opened his hand to show just over a dozen nine millimeter shells in his palm.
"Sorry bout that," he said. "If you had discharged your weapon there would have been so many questions to answer and I don't think you'd've been able to answer very many of them."
Robert stared as the hand was held out to him. "Take them, please."
Robert held out his left hand and Harry dropped the bullets onto his palm, he stared at them for a moment then at his weapon, clicked the release and stared wide-eyed into the empty magazine. "How? What the ...?"
"Michael doesn't have a blood disorder, not like you think," Harry said.
"Constable O'Neil. I need you to listen to me carefully. First thing is everything I'm going to tell you stays between you and me and the trees. I need your solemn word you will not repeat anything we talk about to anyone. I cannot emphasize how important this is to you."
Robert glanced at his gun, fingered the bullets in his other hand and looked up. "What is going on?"
"Your word as a keeper of the Queen's peace and as a man," Harry said. "This is very important. To you most especially."
Robert looked this strange man in the eye, saw no deceit and nodded.
"Alright, for now. My word."
"I won't insult you by asking for anything more," Harry said. "You're a man to hold to his word. So, first off, we are at Southfield Golf Course.
That's about three kilometers from Radcliffe Hospital. About the same from Oxford university. Could you tell me what time it is."
"Time?" Dumbly he looked at his watch again. "Seven fourt ... teen,"
he said and frowned.
With his brow furrowing in questions he said, "In the elevator it was seven thirteen and now it's seven fourteen. We're three kilometers from Radcliffe you say."
"Constable Oneil. Can I call you Robert?" Harry asked and got a nod.
"Good. Michael does not have what the doctors think he has. He has a form of Dragon Pox I believe. Very early stages. It can ben disfiguring or fatal if not treated properly. They won't be able to cure it."
"Dragon ... Pox?"
"Yes. Wizards get it. Thought we had it pretty much taken care of but it sometimes comes up out of nowhere," Harry said. "A blood transfusion,
now that's an interesting approach, though I'd have to talk to Hermione about that but it seems like an interesting idea. Neville has said it is a genetic disorder but Madame Pomfrey doesn't agree. But then again, she's still working with eighteenth century potions." Harry finished and gave Robert a grin.
"Potter," Robert said. "I hope you understand when I say I'm totally at a loss. I haven't understood a thing since you said Michael didn't have what ... what the doctors said." He looked at his useless weapon then holstered it.
Harry didn't need to think about what to do next. Michael was a sick child, and though the doctors were doing their best, it wouldn't work. It wasn't the time to be subtle.
"Okay. You'll need to suspend your detective's index of suspicion for a few minutes and just accept what I'm going to say," Harry said. "I'm a wizard."
Robert guffawed. "Like Gandalf? Potter, I can't ..."
Harry said softly, "Lumos" and his wand lit. "Repello muggleton,
muffliato, protego." His wand pulsed with light at the words.
He turned back to Constable O'Neil. "I said I'm a wizard. Gandalf was fictional. I'm not. I just made sure no one would disturb or overhear us.
Notice how quiet it's gotten?
"There's a whole other world out there. We have kept the Muggle world and the Magical world apart for generations on generations. From the sixteen hundreds, I understand."
Robert had a strange look on his face but Harry continued. "Sorry.
Magical and Muggle, non magical world. It's been centuries since there has been contact between us. I was raised as a Muggle. One of my best friends was Muggle born. My wife and her family come from a long line of Pure Bloods, though if you use that word around Ginny she'll likely turn your hair purple. For starters."
"Muggle. Pure Blood. Wizards. Right." Robert muttered.
"I'm head of the Auror's Office, British Ministry of Magic. I hunt down and capture Dark Wizards. Criminals, if you will," Harry said. "What Michael has is Dragon Pox, if the spots mean what I think. Like I said, I'll talk to Neville to be sure but I've seen it before. Ron's daughter had it but she's been free of it for a year now."
"Dragon Pox," Robert said, trying to get his head around all that had happened in the last five minutes of his life. A life he thought he had a pretty good handle on. Until this moment.
"Yes," Harry said seeing thee look in the man's eyes. "I suppose the real question for you right now is all this I've been saying, is it bull or what."
"Uh yeah," Robert said and looked at Harry again, suddenly realizing the both of them were bathed in the light from that stick. There was no guile evident in his expression or body language. "You're serious. You're telling me you do, you have magic, you do magic I mean. You want me to believe you're a wizard and that's your magic wand."
Harry gave a soft chuckle. "Yes. Holly with Phoenix feather core. Only one other like it was ever made," he said with a certain finality to his voice.
"Had the Elder wand for a few hours but, well, never mind that for now. The important thing is for you to not just believe what I say but to truly accept it.
This is very important. As an Auror, I can do what is needed without directly alerting the Ministry, though I'll have to explain to Shacklebolt why I've chosen this way of doing things. It's a touch risky, what I'm doing.
"I've been wanting to make contact with Scotland Yard or some such for a long time now. I think we can help each other out in certain cases,"
Harry said. "Also, St. Mungo's could use a little shaking up, get into the swing of modern medical care. There's so much Muggle medicine could offer us, though I doubt the reverse would be true. Except in Michael's case."
Robert stared at the man in front of him. "Yes, Michael. I'd make a deal with the devil himself if it would help Eleanor."
Harry gazed evenly back at O'Neil. "I see. You two?"
"A long time ago," Robert said wistfully. "Almost got married, but I went to the Academy and we sort of fell apart after that. Still love her in a certain way. I'm married now and I love my wife and kids more than life itself."
"As a husband and father, I couldn't agree with you more," Harry said.
"Now, though, we need to figure out how to have Michael seen by Neville and some Healers. The sooner the better.
"What you need to do is talk to Eleanor, make her understand Michael needs to be seen by a specialist. That's going to cause problems with the hospital staff. That can't be helped but we'll need to be, uh, careful in what we say and do. Can I count on you?"
Robert thought a moment. A deal with the devil himself he'd said. "If it's for Michael, I'm your man. Now, just to satisfy my curiosity, could I see a bit of magic?"
Harry laughed. "Tell you what. I'd like you to meet Kingsley Shacklebolt. He used to work for the Prime Minister. Of England. Muggle England," Harry said. "I think you'd make a good liaison officer between our departments. You up for something completely different?"
Robert chuffed and Harry stared at him. "John Cleese," Robert said with a grin.
Harry thought a moment then burst out in laughter. "Yes. When I need a good laugh he always does it for me. If this works out like I hope it does,
it'll be that. Something completely different."
"All of this is real then?" Robert asked. "You're a wizard, an Auror you said, and there's a whole other world out there I've never heard about.
Never even imagined?"
Harry chuckled. "You'll see tomorrow. For now how about we have that cup of tea. Would you mind apparating again? I can get us pretty close to Radcliffe without being seen and we can visit with Michael some more.
Charming young lad. He'd like my Lily I think. And you have some difficult work to do."
Robert O'Neil frowned. "Will I blow my cookies again?"
"Probably. I nearly did the first time I did side-along with Dumbledore but I was only sixteen then and used to odd things." Harry gave a short laugh and said, "After a while, you get used to it. Ready?"
"Have at it, mate," Robert said and held out his hand.