Chapter Two

The Second Trip

Harry tried to forget it. Magic wasn't real, his Uncle and Aunt told him so all the time. Only crazy people believe in magic and he wasn't, was he? He certainly remembered his door and his room being different and throwing somebody across a room. The boy, Tom, even said the orphanage hadn't been around fifty years ago and he knew it was, it had been around since before the war; Mrs Dayz had told him to try to get him to talk, so, obviously Tom was crazy. If Tom was still in his room when he went back he wouldn't talk about it. He could talk about the papers on the back of the door and where the blue door went. Nothing strange or freaky, yes, Harry smiled; that was a good plan.

o0o

The next time Harry went was the first school week; his relatives didn't want him distracting their Dudders in the first week back a school. He hadn't been for a while, which was strange. Aunt Petunia loved her routines. They drove the familiar roads in the familiar weather and routine was once again here. It was Sunday though; Dudley went back to school the next day, this meant Harry had a whole week to observe Tom. He did that a lot; it made it easier to see what he would get in trouble with next and how he'd be punished. Tom seemed to not care about the shouting and he even sat Harry on the bed last time. He had to watch him because of the strange things he was doing. Nobody was meant to like a freak.

Harry walked slower than usual. If Tom was still in his room, he was a bit frightened. He threw him across the room and made him go unconscious. But, he said 'Hey,' right? Harry ran into the door he was so deep in thought.

He knocked twice went in waved- 'hi Harry,'- another and up the stairs. He paused in front of the door. It was still the other one; not his blue one. He slowly opened the door and peeked in.

No one.

It was just all glimmery. Especially around his hand; so he pulled it out. It became normal, so he tried with his foot glimmer in, normal out. Was this the 'magic' Tom spoke about? Fuzzy-glimmery stuff? He shrugged and stepped through all the way, right into someone. He blinked, Tom!

"Harry," Tom said, confused. "What were you doing?"


o0o

Harry blinked, again. He seemed to do an awful lot of surprise blinking when he was here. Wrinkling his nose he looked at Tom, his head slightly tilted, fringe in his eyes, eyebrows raised and a confused look on his face; obviously asking: 'what are you talking about?'

"Your arm, on the door," Tom explained. "It came through by itself. –not attached to anything. Your leg did the same thing."

"Oh," was Harry's reply. "It's all glimmery there, - he pointed, - 'I wanted to see why, so I put my leg through. My arm went through as I opened the door."

"Alright," said Tom.

"Is-" Harry broke off.

"Is what?" Tom asked, and then looked at him carefully. "You can ask whatever you want, I'll try answer." He liked the kid; he was like him so, so much. He felt- nice, for lack of better word, to be near. He felt, better near him and his magic, (as he now knew what it was), tingled across his. The kid, -he needed a name, - was special, like him. None of the other magicals gave him this feeling.

Harry bit his lip and blurted it out: "Is the fuzzyglimmerystuff on the door, isitisit; isitmagic?"

Tom just looked at him. "I-i-is that fuzz-zy glim-im-mery stuff, on the door, i-i-is it, uh, ma-ma-ma, uh," Harry stuttered. "Magic?" he whispered. "Is that what you meant, fuzzy, not bad magic?"

Tom looked at him and frowned. "I think," He started, carefully, "I think the glimmery stuff you see on you door is how you get here, from somewhere. It's a type of magic. There's lots of types and yes some magic can be bad, but only if you use it for a bad reason. So this magic isn't bad and neither is painting the bathroom or blasting somebody across a room, or growing your hair back."

"What about the snakes?" Harry whispered. "Uncle Vernon said that was bad, but he said all of it was bad. Green said it was good and that the last speaker had been gone for nearly eight winters."

"Eight winters," Tom murmured. "Talking to snakes isn't bad, so to speak. Professor Dumbledore, who is the teacher that came and told about magic said it was unusual, but from what the books say many people think it is awful and is bad, but remember what I said, it isn't bad unless you use it badly."

Harry looked curious, beside what he wanted to believe, Tom was nice. He might be right, he didn't seem crazy. "How do you know, if the books say so?" he asked.

"I can talk to them too," Tom's eyes glowed eerily. "They come and find me and tell me secrets."

"But Green said-" Harry cut off, he knew better than to disagree, -unless it was magic.

"About the eight winters?" Tom asked, "Right now it's 1938, I'm eleven and about to start school a Hogwarts, a school for magic."

"It's not," Harry said. Maybe Tom was crazy. "It's 1988, I was born in 1980, and I'm seven and will be eight soon."

"You must have come through time or something, because I was born in 1926, which makes me eleven." Tom retorted. "I went back to Diagon Alley, a place for witches and wizards and looked at books and they say that magic people are trying to learn to time travel. So maybe your magic brought you here for some reason. I can't have been on purpose since you obviously live with muggles."

"Show me." Harry demanded. It was very, no, completely unlike him, but…

Tom looked at him, a slight smirk on his lips.


"I only know what's in the books. So I can't do much here," he showed Harry his charms book. "This is a levitating charm. It makes things float. I have to use words but older, more experienced wizards don't." He looked at Harry, "The magic we do before we learn is 'accidental,' because most people can't control what they do; this is 'proper' magic I suppose. Now see, it says to swish and flick, I just sort of'- he swished a stick in his hand in an arc shape, flicking off to the side- 'Wingardium leviosa!"

The book in front of them started hovering. Harry touched it, eyes wide. "What's the stick for?" he asked. "And what do the words mean? Can't you just say float?" This all burst out again. He wasn't really acting like himself.

"The stick is actually a wand; you push magic into it I suppose. Wingardium leviosa, uh, Leviosa- levitate, perhaps and 'wing' you could have for fly, because wings allow things to fly. This is a sort of a 'mess' word. 'Arduus,' is Latin, high and 'Levis' light. Most spells have a basis; this one can be identified a few ways. The words help in the beginning, when you're older maybe you can think 'float' and it will happen, but when we're learning you say the name."

"Oh." Harry said.

"Here, do you want to see the book?"

"Alrig,'" Harry muttered. He took the book and glanced at the open page. There was a picture of a floating feather. He turned the page. On this page was a door, opening and closing. The next page had a button turn into a mouse.

"Are you reading, or just looking?" Tom asked.

"Looking, I don't read that well," Harry lied, he didn't read at all, he only knew the letter names because of the educational shows Aunt had on so her Dudders would become smart. He knew words because of Dudley's cakes, the washing machine and Vacuum. 'Happy,' 'birthday,' 'five,' 'six,' 'seven,' 'on,' 'gentle,' 'vacuum,' and things like that; and they probably wouldn't be in here.

Tom sighed, and took the book back, "Alright, I'll help, since you're seven, but you have to be able to read soon, someone can't always tell you… This one, he went to the first page again is the one I showed you-"

"Wing-gar-de-um Lev-i-oh-sar."

"'Lev-i-to-sah;' then this one is 'Alohomora'"

"Ah-lo-hu-more-rah."

"Yes, it unlocks door and this; this is 'finite'"

"Fin-e-tay."

"Mhmm, and this…"

o0o

That was how the first day passed. As it got late Tom went and had dinner, Harry didn't come; he knew he wasn't allowed. He sat and looked at the pictures in another book, 'Potions,' Tom said. Harry liked this book. It had pictures of some rather disgusting things, but they were ingredients. The name was written next to the image so he could see what order they went in.

In the first one some teeth were first; six of them. You did something and then four bits of the teeth went in the 'cauldron,' as Tom called it. Then a lot of stuff happened. Then 4 slug things with horns, then two pointy spikes. Though he missed half the information, if Tom told him, he was sure he could do this, it was like special cooking… Aunt always made him cook and nobody complained, ever, so he must be able to do cooking OK.

Harry yawned, and rubbed his eyes. Tired he placed the book in the pile and made sure they were neat. He moved the chair to the window and neatened the bed up. He then slipped into the wardrobe and fell asleep; not closing the door, or even noticing Tom come in.

o0o

Tom was confused and a little worried when he came in; he'd hoped not to scare the kid away. He then noticed the made bed and carefully place books and he swung around and looked in the open wardrobe; Harry was curled up in there. He didn't want to move him and make him scared about the bed again, but he did have to try to keep Harry from sleeping there when he was here. He frowned and pulled his Hogwarts trunk out from the side of his bed. It was a little damaged, being second hand, but sturdy. Opening it he pulled out one of the better robes he could buy and draped it on Harry, closing the wardrobe door a bit. He just didn't want the kid to sick, how annoying would he be then? He told himself, not wanting to admit he liked having someone sort of look up to him in a way and for him to sort of look after the kid. Tom frowned; the kid needed a name, his own, not whatever his relatives packed on him.

Tom dropped on his bed, and nearly instantly fell asleep staying awake long enough to yank a blanket up. He slept with a slight smile on his face. The first true smile; no matter how small, for a number of years.


o0o

A.N: I used Unknowable Wiki a bit for this and HPLexicon as well as pottermore's recipe, (no matter how much is missing,) for the boil cure.

From a review I got about Harry not acting his age: Dudley was the only child around Harry. When Dudley's friends were over he was in his cupboard, Harry grew up with adults and had to learn fast so he didn't get into trouble. This is why he changes a bit and acts older/younger than he is. He feels somewhat comfortable with Tom because he's either crazy or telling the truth; considering his Uncle hates him and Tom sort of made sense he's listening.

Wingardium leviosa has many possibilities for meaning, it's not a fully Latin word and can be interpreted in many ways. I checked this out on many sites as I don't speak Latin, and, more to the point the only bits Tom knows is from books he looked at in the shops, he doesn't speak it either, so, I'm happy with my translation.