Summary: Harry runs into the Doctor on Christmas Day in London and adventure ensues. Doctor Whump

Author's Note: Set after the 7th book and I'm going by JK's descriptions of Harry (mainly his eye color) more so than the movie. Please review and tell me what you think! I'm not sure I kept it everyone IC but I did try.

Harry walked through central London not really seeing where he was going as he stumbled to a solitary corner near The Leaky Cauldron where four men in Santa costumes were blowing their horns in the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen".

It was his first Christmas that he didn't have to worry about being killed while out in the open and if Harry was truthful it was a weird experience. He kept looking around corners and turning to check behind him almost expecting to see a Death Eater waiting to kill him but alas every time he looked, there was no one but Muggles.

As he stopped to look into a shop window Harry's mind wandered to his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. They were now an established couple, much to the relief of almost everyone that knew them, and were currently taking a much needed vacation around Europe.

They'd started in France per Hermione's request and had decided to end in Rome around the holidays. Unfortunately Ron had managed to talk Hermione into visiting his brother Charlie in Romania instead of visiting Rome promising that they'd get there eventually.

According to the latest letter he'd received from the pair they'd managed to stay relatively free wherever they went, having chosen to stay with family instead of in hotels, and were planning on joining him in Diagon Alley today. For the most part the three friends had always spent their Christmases together and it was a tradition they weren't about to break in a hurry.

He walked on, his mind blankly registering a crowd of carolers before he passed a big, wooden, blue police box seemingly safely tucked out of the way. While they hadn't been in use during his time Harry did know that they had at one point existed and been useful but what was one doing in the heart of London and more importantly so close to the magical pub?

The door to the box opened and a head full of spiky, dark cinnamon hair adorned with thick, black, Buddy Holly glasses and deep, friendly brown eyes poked out with a wide grin upon its face.

"Hello," the man greeted cheerily, "listen I'm sorry to bother you but could you tell me what day it is?"

Harry stood glued to the spot, staring at the thin man before him like he was completely bonkers. A small part of him registered that thin though the man may be he was fairly attractive – a quality that his friendly personality and his well tailored, blue and brown pinstriped suit only added to.

"It's Christmas Eve," Harry answered blankly his mind still confused about how this strange man didn't know.

"Right and what year?" the man asked tugging briefly on his earlobe before scratching his neck in what Harry assumed to be nerves.

"2008."

"Right, right, great year though the summer had been a bit of a drag. Did anything happen on Christmas that year?" The man screwed up his eyes momentarily in concentration before he refocused on Harry. "Oh right the Titanic but then my other self would take care of that unless I'm not there to take care of it and then why would all these people be out?" He looked around, his face a mask of confusion and study. "Of course! Alternate universe. Brilliant! Well," he amended, dragging out the word as if forming a thought, "not really brilliant since the last time I was in one my friends and I were almost turned into Cybermen but then when aren't they attacking some reality or another eh?"

Harry stood listening to the man talk, his face carefully blank but his mind screaming at him to quietly back away from the insane man. For some reason however his body didn't want to respond to its brain's demand and he remained where he was.

"Who are you?" he finally managed to ask though he was sure there were better questions out there that he could have said.

"Right, sorry. This version of me is really quite rude, I must work on that one of these days or people are going to think I was raised in a freta. I'm the Doctor."

The rather chatty man held out his hand and reluctantly Harry grabbed it, giving a firm shake that the thin gentlemen returned, though not in a threatening manner, and even added another broad grin to it.

"Harry," he answered realizing that it would rude not to give his own name. The man's soft brown eyes widened so marginally that for a moment the wizard thought he'd imagined it. Does he know who I am? he wondered briefly before dismissing it entirely. Come off it! How arrogant are you if you think that everyone knows who you are?

The man known as the Doctor smiled even wider, an act that Harry didn't think possible given how broad the man's smile already was, but before he could comment any further his honey brown eyes focused on the men in Santa costumes nearby.

Harry had a moment's chance to notice two things before the Doctor had pulled him down, behind the closest street stand. The first was that the Santa men had stopped playing and the second was a focused, hard look in the strange man's eyes as he focused on the brass band.

Fire erupted where they had stood only seconds before, burning all in its vicinity and melting the snow that had covered the ground. If it hadn't been for the quick reflexes of the Doctor, Harry would have been scorched and barbecued by now. As it was the sleeve of his shirt had been burnt away leaving an angry looking scorch mark in its wake.

Having had worse than this in his 19 years of life Harry didn't pay much attention to it, his focus solely on the crazed Santa men instead. An almost high pitched whining reached his ears and Harry looked over to find the Doctor holding a long, cylindrical object in the air as if he were trying to use it to find the wind.

"Where is it? Where is it?" he asked no one in particular over and over again and twirling and spinning his torso around like he was a robot and not a man with a spine. He gave a triumphant "Aha," alerting the killer Santas to their wehereabouts causing them to duck as another wave of fire headed their way.

Harry managed to duck in time but a pained hiss and the faint smell of burnt flesh wafting from next to him told him that the Doctor had not. There was no time to dwell on the injury however as the Doctor grabbed his hand and pulled him, running away from their safety in time to see it burst into flames entirely as another wave of fire was sent their way.

The Doctor roughly shoved Harry into the Leaky Cauldron then stumbled in afterwards. He waited, regaining his breath again before he opened the door again and stepped out holding the cylindrical object as if it was a weapon.

Unable to resist his curiosity Harry followed behind the Doctor, quietly walking to the door with his hand resting just over where his wand sat stored in his pocket away from unnecessary eyes.

His curiosity turned to wary interest as he watched the man point the object at one of the Santas then buzz it, holding it determinedly, and almost threateningly, in front of himself until the Santa's head exploded in a fabulous show of sparks and machinery. He re-aimed but the remaining Santa men disappeared in a flourish of smoke and particles.

"What-what did you do?" Harry asked baffled as he walked out of the pub.

"I found their communication frequency, piggy-backed onto it then overloaded it," the Doctor replied evenly as if he did this often. He turned around to face Harry, his expression a mixture of focused determination and aloof examination. "If I could just trace their signal I could figure out who was controlling them."

"Controlling them? You mean they weren't acting of their own accord?" Harry watched, growing ever more uneasy, as the man pointed the cylindrical object into the air and began whirring it, waving it around as if it were a metal wand.

"Of course not," he replied absently, his eyes focused on the miniature digital output on the side of his tool. "Those robots were controlled by someone." He stayed quiet for a few minutes before his left eyebrow shot up in an expression of great disbelief. "Someone who doesn't want to be found apparently," he mumbled almost to himself. Shrugging he put the object back into his pocket and refocused on Harry, "Well that's alright. It just makes it more of a challenge for me then doesn't it? Do you mind if we go inside and get a cup of tea?"

Without waiting for a reply the Doctor walked into the Leaky Cauldron and sat down at the bar waiting for someone to come get his order. Now that he wasn't being chased by crazed robots Harry's brain had time to become confused as to how the stranger knew the Leaky Cauldron was there. The building didn't show itself to anyone without magical blood and this man didn't seem to be a Wizard, not one that he knew of at least, so how had he known it was there?

Harry followed in the man's trail, sitting on a stool beside him, his mind blurting out so many questions while his mouth refused to open.

"Harry, so good to see you," Tom, the toothless bar owner, greeted happily. "What can I get for you?" He looked next to Harry as if seeing the man beside him for the first time then looked back and asked, "Who's your friend?"

"I'm the Doctor," the Doctor answered before Harry had had a chance. He waved as a way of saying hello but didn't offer his hand to shake which was the normal muggle greeting. "Could I have a cup of tea please? Wait, scratch that. I need to visit a bank first, though not that that will do me any good since I haven't got any money."

Harry watched the man fiddle with a black leather case in his pocket, think better of what he was about to do with it and withdraw his hand. "Two teas please Tom," he ordered placing a galleon on top of the bar.

Two mugs of steaming hot tea filled with milk and sugar appeared as if out of thin air in front of the two men and Tom came back with the correct change. He watched them drink from their cups for a moment before he turned around and went to clean up after a group of wizards that had just left.

"So, I'm sorry but who are you?" Harry asked at last figuring that was the simplest question to start off with.

"I told you, I'm the Doctor," the man answered then took another sip of his tea, a content smile crossing his face.

"A doctor of what exactly?"

"No not A doctor, The Doctor. It's all a little hard to explain although less hard to you, you being a wizard and all you're probably used to strange things and even stranger people. Suffice it to say I'm here to help; with what I'm not exactly sure yet." He pulled out his tool and began studying it again. "Do you know if there's a spell that can hide a technological signal?"

"I suppose, maybe. I'm not exactly the one who knows about all the spells; that would be Hermione." He let out an involuntary wince as he reached for the change and deposited it in his pocket. The skin on his arm that had been burned had become tight and didn't appreciate stretching.

"You alright?" the Doctor asked having caught the wince.

"Fine, just a small burn," Harry answered lightly in a hope that no more attention would be paid to him. Unfortunately the Doctor wasn't that easily distracted.

"Can I see it?" he asked in such a gentle tone that Harry found it hard to resist. He held out his arm, presenting it for the man who called himself the Doctor to examine.

The Doctor gently peeled back the singed cloth then turned the arm to get a better view in better light. He held that position for awhile before releasing his hold. "It's not a bad burn but it would help to put some cream on that. I have some in the TARDIS if you like, unless you lot have something better."

"I dunno," Harry answered the implied question realizing that he truly didn't know if wizards had something better for burns. He was sure they did but he'd never really paid attention when Madame Pompfrey had treated him; it wasn't his fault really since most of the times he'd been brought in he'd been unconscious.

"Well come on then," the Doctor replied cheerily, finishing his tea in one massive gulp before standing up and heading towards the door. He turned around when he realized that Harry wasn't following. "Are you coming or not?"

Strange though it may be Harry found himself almost willingly following the man. It was as if he'd been put under an imperius curse though he was moving of his own free will. Something about this stranger was compelling him to follow and if there was one thing Harry liked, it was a secret being unveiled.

They walked silently in the direction of the shops, stopping at the same blue box where Harry had first met the Doctor. The walk hadn't been long but it had been long enough for the young wizard to notice that the lean man beside him was limping a little and giving small winces every time he put weight on his right leg.

He was just about to ask if the man was alright when said man burst out happily, "There you are old girl!" He patted the box with affection that bordered on love then slipped a silver, blank key into the hole. Unlocking the door, the Doctor turned around with an excited smile on his face, "Harry welcome to the TARDIS."

The door opened revealing a massive control room with a long, cylindrical tube, which was filled with two or three smaller tubes that moved in opposite directions so they met in the middle, in the middle of what Harry could only assume was a control console.

A strange blue-green light radiated from the console mixing effortlessly with the yellow and orange tones of the tall, round walls. The flooring was made of grates that made a clunk-ing sound with every step he made and an almost inviting hum filled the room, wrapping him up a blanket of welcome.

"What is this?" he asked, his green eyes trying to take all the magnificence in.

"It's called the TARDIS. It stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space." The Doctor limped over to the control panel, tossing his long brown coat carelessly over the nearest rail as he did so, and began flipping switches. "Where is your friend Hermione? I need to talk with her."

"Uh she's in Romania with our friend Ron, visiting his brother," Harry replied more than a little baffled. "Hang on, is this a space ship?"

"Yep," the Doctor answered popping the 'p'. He flipped a few more switches, rang a bell, twisted a crank, and pulled a lever all within a matter of seconds, something that shouldn't be possible for a man that small in a ship this big, before Harry had a chance to even begin to process that he was in a spaceship.

Wheezing filled the air and the green-blue light glowed brightly, canceling out the yellow-orange glow from the walls as it completely enveloped the room. Harry was thrown to the ground as the ship shuddered violently then stopped completely and when he looked around he saw that the Doctor had been tossed around as well though he bounded up almost immediately, checking what looked to be a cross between a computer monitor and a small, flat screen TV, before flying to the door.

He stopped by Harry, offered him a hand up then bounded straight to the door. How a man with an obvious limp could move that fast, Harry had no idea.

However just before the Doctor reached the door he stopped suddenly as if playing Simon Says and froze as part of the game. He turned around, all but ran down a corridor then reappeared not a minute later with a jar of what Harry assumed to be burn cream and a bandage.

"Sorry but I think this shirt is ruined already, don't you?" he asked before ripping the sleeve of his shirt so there was a clean split from the end of the sleeve to just below his elbow, exposing his burnt forearm.

With soft hands, the Doctor liberally applied the cream, which felt cool against the burnt, agitated skin, then gently wrapped the gauze bandage around the arm a couple of times before taping it together. He disappeared just as quickly as he did before but returned with clean hands and no sign that he'd done anything but gone for a quick stroll.

The Doctor checked the screen then smiled. "I think you should exit first Harry. Your friends seem curious as to why there's a big blue box inside their room and I don't think they'd believe me."

Harry exited quickly, more than happy to escape the strange man's presence for a moment. He opened the door and almost ran into Ron who was just about to try entering the box.

"How the ruddy hell did you get in there?" he asked baffled as he stepped slowly away from the box.

"It's a long story," Harry summarized shortly.

Hermione stepped forward, embracing him with a tight hug before she stepped back and frowned. "Are you alright?" she asked while brushing the hair off his forehead and attempting to get some soot off his cheek.

"I'm fine," he answered with a shrug.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you mate but what are you doing here?" Ron asked making his two friends smile fondly and shake their heads.

"That's my fault really," the Doctor answered deciding it was time he joined the group. "I met Harry in a street near the Leaky Cauldron and we ran into some trouble. Don't worry it wasn't Death Eaters," he added quickly seeing their brief looks of panic, "just remote controlled killer robots. I disarmed one of them but the rest got away and that's why I've come to see you." He pivoted slightly to focus his sole attention on a bewildered Hermione.

"Why me?" she asked warily as she looked him up and down in a manner that suggested she didn't trust him one bit.

"Because whoever's controlling the robots is hiding their signal from me magically and Harry says that you're the one to come to when it comes to spells and enchantments."

"Hang on," Ron interrupted before Hermione could reply, "who the bloody hell are you?"

"Not again. I tell you my manners in this reincarnation are just non-existent. I apologize. I'm the Doctor." He waved once again in greeting.

Before any of them had another chance to speak Ron's mother's voice rang loudly through the house, "Ron, Hermione! Supper's ready."

Ron physically winced, "How am I going to explain you to her? Harry she won't mind, she likes him but we don't even know him," he waved absently at the Doctor.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised in a hiss.

"It's alright. I'm not one for family gatherings and I wouldn't want to interrupt," the Doctor replied effortlessly waving of Ron's rudeness.

The sounds of someone coming up the stairs sounded outside the room and before any of them had a chance to say, "quidditch" Mrs. Weasley entered the room, "What are you two doing up here?" She stopped lecturing the minute she saw the Doctor and his blue box.

She stared at the group for a moment before her manners kicked in and she stepped forward, offering the Doctor and hand to shake. "Hello, I'm Molly Weasley."

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. I apologize for dropping in like this. I'm a friend of Harry's. I was giving him a ride and needed to ask Hermione a few questions while I was here."

Mrs. Weasley blinked as though he had just said something completely incomprehensible but managed a smile. "No problem at all Doctor, would you care to join us for dinner? I'm sure we have enough."

"No thank you, I really should be going. Hermione, I'll come back when you're finished if that's alright with you?"

Hermione nodded dazedly still confused as to why the strange man needed to speak with her specifically but Mrs. Weasley, ever the mother hen, was not having any of it. "Nonsense, come and eat with us. You look skinnier than Harry did when we first met him and that's saying something. As for you three, go sit at the table. Ron set an extra place for Harry and the Doctor and Harry go wash up, you look filthy."

She waited sternly as Ron and Harry did as they were told then stepped beside the Doctor, silently herding him downstairs with the rest.

The Doctor grimaced with every other step he made but he slowly made his way down the stairs. Pain seared through his right leg and an uncomfortable tugging could be felt around the burnt skin whenever he flexed the muscle.

He hadn't been fortunate enough to get out of the way of the second to last burst of flames from the robots and the first few layers of skin on his right calf had paid the price. For the most part he'd been able to ignore the pain but the more he moved the harder it became.

Arthur, Charlie, Ron, and Ginny Weasley sat at the table along with Hermione and Harry. There were two places without people. One was for Mrs. Weasley and the other was for the Doctor.

"Who's this then?" Ginny asked. She'd been spending a lot of time with George and in doing so had almost completely lost her manners.

"This is the Doctor. He's a friend," Harry spoke up figuring the man was probably getting tired of answering that question. Concern colored his green eyes when he stole a quick look at his strange companion and found that his exuberant energy had disappeared leaving a tired but determined energy behind and the limp which had begun as barely noticeable had become far more pronounced.

"I thought we knew all your friends Harry," Charlie intoned jokingly.

"It's a recent friendship," the Doctor answered absently. "Hello."

"Are you a muggle?" Mr. Weasley asked hopefully.

"Yes, in the strictest sense of the word but not entirely no."

"Is there a rule where once you hit a certain age you talk in riddles?" Ron asked before shoving a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

"How old do you think I am?" the Doctor asked sounding offended.

"Dunno, forty maybe?"

"Forty? Blimey I've gotten old!"

"Ron if you think he's forty I hate to hear how old you think I am and why I don't speak in riddles," Mr. Weasley replied with a laugh.

"Well to be fair he does have a point. I do talk in riddles at times like Professor Dumbledore did and we are both quite old though I will say I'm older than he was but no there is not a rule about talking in riddles."

"How can you be older than Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked gently, taking a sip of water.

"I hide my age well."

"How old are you then?" Ron asked between mouthfuls.

"906, give or take a year." The Doctor took a bite of eggs in order to give an excuse not to answer the coming bombardment of questions.

"You're barking," Ron answered filling the shocked silence with his disbelieving voice.

"Like I said, I'm a muggle in the strictest sense of the word, which is to say that I do not possess the ability to use magic, but I am not actually a muggle." He paused for a moment before looking at Mrs. Weasley. "These are fantastic," he complimented pointing at the eggs with his fork, "Do you know that in Albuquerque, New Mexico they actually put these, some potatoes, some bacon, and a spicy vegetable called green chile in a form of flat bread they call a tortilla and call it a breakfast burrito?"

"Do they really? Fascinating these muggles!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed as he finished off his plate.

However Ron was not to be deterred, "How can you be a muggle and not a muggle at the same time. Either you can use magic or you can't."

"Ron, just leave it," Harry said, cutting off the Doctor before he had a chance to speak. Though he'd said these words many times before to his friend, they had never been said in so much a commanding tone as he'd just used and he could tell that Ron wasn't liking it at all. However he could tell that the Doctor was nearing the end of his patience and growing more tired by the second and wasn't going to let the redhead keep questioning the man until he snapped.

"Do you want any more?" Mrs. Weasley offered, eyeing the Doctor with concern. If it were up to her, the entire population would have meat on their bones.

"No thank you Mrs. Weasley I really should be going."

"Are you sure? You're more than welcome to stay the night."

Ron threw a look at his mother that clearly said he thought she was crazy but remained quiet.

The Doctor looked like he was about to argue when he closed his mouth, smiled then replied, "Thank you I think I shall but I'll be staying in the TARDIS. There's plenty of room and I wouldn't want to crowd you all."

"Come on, I'll show you back to the room," Harry said swiftly getting out of his chair. He waited until the Doctor had almost gingerly eased out of the chair and began walking.

Hermione and Ron followed out of habit more than anything else. When all three of them were together they had a habit of all leaving when one left.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked when they reached the bedroom and the Doctor faltered in his step.

"Burnt my leg during the attack but I'll be fine after a few hours' rest." He sat down in a battered chair that sat just inside the door. "Sorry. I didn't think it would so tiring to get up the stairs. I'll be out of your hair in a moment, don't worry."

"I thought you were staying," Harry said as Hermione knelt before the Doctor and gently examined his leg.

"Oh I am but I doubt your friends want me to stay in their room." He hissed as Hermione touched a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry," she apologized with a wince. "This looks pretty bad. You should have had someone take a look at it sooner. I think the damaged skin is infected."

"I'll be-OW," he cried out as her fingers touched one of the more burn and infected spots causing her to withdraw like she herself had been burnt. He resisted the urge to curl around the injury (it was a ridiculous human reaction to pain!) and remained quiet as he waited for the searing agony to calm enough where he could talk again. "I'll be fine by tomorrow. Well fine enough at least."

"Everything alright up there?" Mrs. Weasley called from the landing on the stairs.

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry to the Doctor, not sure how to answer.

"Just fine thanks!" the Doctor answered for him. He turned back to the three wizards, giving them a pained smile, "Well. Good night then. I'll see you lot in the morning."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Hermione asked eyeing his leg.

He gave the group an absent yet mischievous smile, "I'm always alright." He turned around to enter the TARDIS when he pivoted painfully around to look at Harry, "You're welcome to a room in here if you like. The TARDIS will show you the way to your room when you feel like sleeping."

"Thanks," Harry replied finally realizing that he hadn't actually decided where he was sleeping for the night.

The three friends watched as the Doctor limped rather heavily into the TARDIS and disappeared within the massive ship. Ron and Hermione turned around and gave Harry expectant looks. They settled down on the floor and waited for Harry to begin the story.