Chapter 3

Your quest is Vane

Would you come out already !?

Harry Potter was annoyed. While patience was necessary to survive in certain situations, and therefore waiting, was one of his indispensable pastimes, standing in a crowded area in front of one of the pubs in Diagon Alley, was not his favourite form of spending time. Especially because of the Scanning Probes which took unhealthy (for him) interest in that part of street he was standing in. Still, the wizard he was waiting for, was spending a liberal amount of time in this particular pub, while he was supposed to be returning to work in a few minutes. Harry became more and more anxious, as he watched street clock, being afraid, that Ed, entrance guard and main wand checker in British Ministry of Magic, would be to lazy to walk to the apparition point, and would just disapparate from the pub.

His worries were however eliminated, when middle aged, unshaved wizard, with longish brown hair flying around his face came out of the "Bickering Minotaur" pub, and quickly headed for nearest apparition point, unaware, that the person, whom Wizarding World's finest aurors and Unspeakables were searching for, was following him. On his first attempts Harry had a little trouble with blending with already various and strange population of Wizarding street. But now, with the help of muggle make-up kit, Harry, with what you could call an average human nose glued to him, as well as his carnation bronzed a little had little problem with it. When the wizard reached apparition point. Harry knew he had to act fast.

Apparition itself could be performed in any place, but when in apparition point, apparating wizard was subjected to a mild focusing charm, which usually helped him in apparition and decreased the risk of splinching. Therefore wizard entering an apparition point with the intent to use it, was affected by the charm, who additionally to helping him, also narrowed his perception a little. Not many people knew of this, and those who did, thought it to be unimportant. Harry on the other hand, thought it was quite helpful.

His eyes locked with wizard's tired gaze. Immediately he envisioned himself, appearing in the Ministry main lobby with a sound of displaced air. Then, he knew he was walking to the ministry personnel list on his own desk. He knew he would feel the irresistible impulse to drop the leaflet in the dustbin outside the ministry building, when he would be leaving for home, later in the evening.

Tired, bloodshot dark brown eyes of the guard became misty for a while. Most wizards and witches could detect the invasion on their mind performed by a legilimens. Those who were skilled or simply powerful enough, could prevent it by using Occlumency. However, tired guard's mind was a little 'softened', from the amount of alcohol the man consumed, and from many hours of work. Harry supposed, any Legilimens could invade man's mind at the moment, with little effort.

But, he wouldn't know for sure.

He wasn't a Legilimens after all.

Collecting the leaflet dropped by Ed at the end of his shift proved to be more difficult, than Harry expected it to be. Weather seemed to be sabotaging his plan, when it began to rain. Heavily. He knew his make up wouldn't hold for ever, along with his fake nose. But he hadn't predicted that it would be put to a waste so soon. And here he was, standing in close proximity to his desired document, again with his hood up, and his neckerchief on his face, he was only separated from his target by constant stream of wizards and witches most of whom were leaving or entering the ministry building. It was a shame that he could not control Ed in

more ... complete manner. He would then order him to dispose the document in some more secluded place.

But when you don't have what you like, you must like what you have - thought Harry grimly, as he began approaching the dustbin.

Granted that his actual attire would only contribute to his image of some 'trash searching' tramp but he wasn't actually looking forward to being that close to such a large group of wizards. 'You may never know who you are dealing with when it comes to wizards' he once heard someone say. Strange, because seeing as he wasn't exactly an people's person, he couldn't recall where he heard that phrase. He must have remembered it from his younger years. But them, when you were mostly conscious and aware of your surroundings, as well have had an excellent memory almost from the time you were conceived, it was strange when you couldn't recall the origin of one sentence...

Be that as it may - he mentally scolded himself - you still have a helluva legion of wizards and witches to avoid.

He then proceeded to limp slowly (something that went against all his instincts) in the direction of the leaflet on top of the dustbin. People repeatedly bumped into him, and cursed him under their breaths almost as many times. With his head hanging low, he made his way through the wide pavement, and entered dark alleyway in which he found the piece of paper that was the cause of his current actions. Promptly, without looking behind, he walked deeper into the alleyway. This evening was clouded and moonless, so hopes that he could decipher something from the sheet of paper were rather slim. But young Potter apparently thought that his chances were rather high - because his eyes suddenly flashed, icily blue light making a bfrief appearance in dark alleyway. Harry's eyes which were rather used to darkness, and somewhat more than capable of seeing something in such a darkness, became even more adapted to the darkness, apparently reading whatever was written on the leaflet. To Harry text looked as if it was viewed in a normal daylight. Numerous lines of names and the person's function were visible. As well as many notes and rather crude and explicit doodles on margins seemingly made by Ed . Apparently, ministry guard was rather bored during his work time, and cherished an idea of describing every person the best way he could. That included the person's habits, brief description of appearance, and in the case of several female workers supposed bustline measurements.Harry's eyes stopped moving, when they encountered line he was searching for.

... Gustavus Vane - Chief of Ministry Registers. Worktime 9-17, Monday-Friday ... - was written in officially looking, bold letters. Below, Ed added in his messy handwriting:

Well off, bald bastard with heavy German accent. Geri reports him to be fond of visiting his wife in her coffee shop near the Ministry during lunch brake. Apparently HE's getting IT regularly!!!

This rather vague description was illustrated with what was apparently supposed to be a pair of male genitalia, getting kicked by a large black boot. Well...

Harry made sure that his back was turned to the crowded entrance to the alleyway, as the piece of paper in his hand, slowly began to smoke and within few moments became engulfed in flames. Harry threw the now incinerating leaflet away, and made his way to the pile of boxes situated a little deeper in the dark passage. He sat there, and began to slowly chew on cold piece of pizza, the last reminder of a feast he had not so long ago. When he finished eating, Harry sat in a lotus position, and closed his eyes. He knew his rather sharp hearing would alert him if someone was to approach him. His rather well developed sense of smell would have also helped him, had it not been for the overwhelming stench of this part of London. He let his thoughts wander, just to focus on something else, and not that horrible smell.

Last breath came out of the animal's mouth. The fox, now quite dead, was lying on a pile of snow at the base of a large tree.

Pine, is it? - thought seven years old boy, consulting wih his extensive knowledge.

The bark at the bottom was smeared with animal's blood. Apparently forcibly thrown at the tree, the animal cracked it's skull. Crimson coloured liquid was now decorating the snow. The Child began to approach the dead animal carefully. It was several times that he was attacked by what he thought was his already dead prey. He poked the animal in the eye with long stick, but it remained ass still and unmoving as every dead animal. The child smiled - a gesture that was so out of place, that it would have disturbed any person observing the young boy, who was now trying to rip the animal, so he could get to the meat. Apparently not so patient, the child ceased his attempts to tear the fox's skin with his own hands. He just looked at the animal, with his strangely blue eyes, and the animal's stomach was slowly ripped apart by an invisible force.

After a while small boy sated his hunger, and was now resting on bloodied skin of the fox, under the pine tree. For anyone who would be passing through this woods it would be more than disturbing image. And if it was not for the child's gaunt and pale appearance, and the animal's remains under him, the boy could picture this situation as sort of idyllic. At least for him it was. His stomach now full, he felt at ease. And when he felt at ease he was in the mood to do some reading.

One could ask, from where, a wild boy such as him, could gain any kind of literature. And the second question that would follow, would be an enquiry into the boy's reading skills and for that matter any kind of skills associated with education. However the boy was not in the mood for answering such questions, when from his attire, consisting of several animal furs sewn together, he took out a little book. "The basics of modern psychology". And promptly began to read it ignoring a saucers like eyes of theoretical observer.

Harry had found that book, when he was visiting disposal site at the edge of the forest in search of something to eat, a little over a month ago. It was the first book he ever read. And he couldn't help but wonder if this book was some kind of guide into his life, a map of himself given to him by fate who finally felt he owed him. And all this, because of one little paragraph:

"Dissociative identity disorder"

Harry wasn't able to comprehend how it was, that he found exactly that book. But it happened and it was crucial for his development. The paragraph wasn't very descriptive, but it was enough to trigger new pattern of thought in child's mind. He knew his mind was in some weird way divided. When he was born something shocking have happened. It shattered his mind, into two pieces. One, physical and the other, mental. He noted that he was progressing in both of them. Somehow, he knew that he wasn't supposed to have so much knowledge in either part of his mind. It was somehow hidden from him, and the knowledge came in weaves or in flashes, when something familiar triggered his (or was it someone's other) memories. He knew he had thought patterns unsuitable for seven years old child. But they were in his other persona, not the one responsible for his physical speech. Therefore he, with all his complicated thoughts wasn't able to utter any civilised-like sound. His purely physical persona was too feral, too animalized, to be able to proceed with trying to give some more advanced informations, and not his usual guttural sounds. He in some way knew, that he would have to bypass this restriction of his mentality if he was ever to be able to converse in any way with other human bein... with any human.

Harry growled silently. His lack of normal speech could certainly contribute to his possible failure. He knew that with the help of his other abilities he could in some way overcome these difficulties, but nonetheless he wasn't excited at the prospect of being forced to mingle with the crowd for longer periods of time.

He looked up. The dark, night sky was hidden behind heavy, storm clouds. His brilliantly blue eyes concentrated on some point in the sky. Meanwhile his consciousness wandered through the numerous and sometimes narrow and dangerous paths of his own mind. The term 'soul searching' could in some wicked way apply to his action. He explored already covered and known paths with little to none difficulty. What he was searching for was far away, hidden from his consciousness in depths of his own mind, just like the sky was hidden behind the clouds from any spectators. But while traveling through the clouds was something which could be done with no difficulty at all, traveling through his mind was anything but easy and simple.

He felt like he was forced into a narrow passage. Walking thorough those was not very difficult. He just stripped himself of few emotions, thoughts and worries, and with such 'lighter' probe he went down this road. It became more and more narrow as he proceeded. He knew he could get rid of only certain quantity of emotions and thoughts before he became incapable of any movement. It happened once or twice to him. He was trying to force himself through such a narrow way, tossing his thoughts and feelings away. And then he became stuck. And because his emotions and musings were the fuel and the force behind his consciousness' movements, he had no chance of going back, without regaining at least few of them.

He spent ten days in such a state.

Unmoving, sitting still, starving for ten days, trying to win the battle with his mind.

It was only several years later, that he broke through this passage. He was rewarded with the ability to control things at distance. An ability which was put to it's limits so many times in his life that even with his enhanced memory he was not able to remember all of those situations.

And here he was, walking slowly and carefully, trying to reach something new, something that could help him improve, to gain advantage over his adversaries. Wizards and witches of Britain. He himself wasn't a wizard.

He was something different.

Wizards used their wands. He used his mind.

For him the sentence "Mind over matter" was like his life insurance.

The tightness of this passage abruptly ended. Harry's mind rushed to provide the probe with every emotion and thought he could muster. He encountered such natural traps before. From narrowness to the extensive amount of space in one moment. If he was to enter such large area equipped only with few thoughts, he would became lost in his own mind like space traveller drifting through the outer space, without hope of finding his way back. But now his mind was buzzing with activity. Long forgotten emotions, and several vague thoughts, flashed through his consciousness. It became hard to navigate with the weight of so many "fuel canisters" like he preferred to call them. But the presence of something important became more and more urging, and he risked plunging forward, to grasp it, before it ran away. Because he knew it happened before and it was possible it could happen now. He reached with fabricated and not entirely defined limb, to grasp his target. To gain better control over himself. To be able to control mind and body, to be able to...

... make my skin look like the brick wall behind me. A wall that someone puked on, at that - stated already relaxed mind of Harry Potter. He wasn't exactly overjoyed with his new ability, at the moment at least. He looked like some weird sort of human, or in his case nonhuman chameleon. His outline was clearly visible, and he was still easy to notice.

Harry knew his abilities could be "developed". He still had to go through the whole way to reach the correct point in his mind to "push the button", but when it became routine to him, he could do it without giving it much thought. By pushing button repeatedly, the ability developed. When he discovered his ability to control objects, he could only move the smallest of twigs he could find in his forest. But with practise came the mastery. He was now able to control much bigger objects. So even this ability, while now it seemed useless would became useful with time and practice. He already added the route to the trigger to his mind's map.

He smiled - the progress wouldn't be visible even after several days of practice. He had to exercise for at least several months before he could use this ability to it's full extent.

Well then - he thought with determination - start to exercise as soon as you can. Which means now.

Rest of the night was spent on mimicking the patterns of bricks on the wall.

When he woke up, early in the morning, after only two hours of sleep he became instantly aware of several things. Firstly he was soaking wet, which meant he was exposed to the rain while he was sleeping. It washed down the rest of what remained from his attempt on make up. Secondly he realised that his neckerchief was so soaked it slipped from his face. And additionally, he realised that he was not so far away from the entrance to the British Ministry of Magic. They were bound to discover his presence sooner or later, even with his poor excuse of a disguise. and especially when he slept in here without his face covered. The coldness of his skin didn't disturbed him. He adapted to the temperature better than humans, which was why he survived his whole life in the first place. He quickly rose, covered the lower half of his face, and began to head for the entrance of the alley. When the street came to view he noticed that it was still to early for any applicants to be entering or leaving the ministry. Walking swiftly though the street young Potter came to halt and looked around the square. Several small shops adorned the buildings around. He made his way toward the shop which was most significant for him.

Adelle's Coffee Place

He proceeded to walk around the shop, looking for any kind of possible entrance. The back door were locked, and only small window was opened two floors higher. He looked around searching for the emergency exit. A simple ladder was hanging from the roof, apparently now folded, and unfolded only in case of fire. He outstretched his hand aiming at the ladder, and suddenly brought his arm down. The ladder apparently wasn't as hard to bring down as he thought. Just before it hit the ground he stopped it's descent and grabbed it in his hands, lowering it quietly. Granted the sound of unfolding ladder wasn't exactly as quiet as he desired it to be, but after a while of listening intently, when nothing happened, he began to swiftly climb. When he was at the level of the opened window, he pushed another familiar button in his mind. His legs which were normally capable on their own, became infused with brief surge of strength. Harry leaped, aiming at the windowsill, at least seven feats away from him. Before he had the chance to fall from the third floor, straight on a not so soft garbage pile, his hands grabbed the inside of the window. Hanging from the window with the risk of falling apparently hadn't disturbed Harry when he proceeded to climb through the window, into the building.

The room he was in, was apparently someone's bathroom. He silently opened the door, and came into short corridor. The owner of the apartment was rather fast asleep judging by the snoring noises coming from the bedroom. Harry sneaked down the corridor, to the entrance door. Unlocking them without arousing suspicion wasn't possible, but he didn't have any other choices. The staircase was deserted, which wasn't surprising at the ungodly hour of fifth am. When Harry came down the stairs, he encountered the main door, as well as what he supposed was another entrance to the coffee shop. It was closed. But with a little searching, Harry found a key hidden under one of the flowerpots which stood at either side of the Cafe entrance. The key was apparently charmed to be unnoticeable, but Harry's eyesight wasn't useful only to read in complete darkness. When he concentrated he could sense every bit of residue spell energy. And although he wasn't keen on doing it in such a close proximity to the ministry, he needed to get into this shop. So after being blinded by a sudden appearance of myriads of colours before his eyes, he felt his way to the door and with a little difficulty opened them, cancelling his enhanced sight. He then locked the door back, and lied on the floor. Placing the key under the door, he then moved around to be able to see just the right flowerpot. He then levitated the key back on it's place, and with a little difficulty, he also placed flowerpot on top of it, just as it was before his arrival.

He stood up and looked around. He supposed he was lucky, that this door weren't secured with any kind of alarm charm. If they were, he would have sensed the alarm going off. Looking around he saw that Mrs. Vane's Coffee Place was rather nice looking. Claret-coloured tables and curtains as well as several golden machines apparently used for preparing a coffee were decorating the local. While it wasn't exactly an oriental setting, several strange and exotic pictures adorned the walls of this establishment. Mix of several decorating patterns was visible, clearly stating that the owner of the place couldn't or wasn't wiling to decorate it in only one theme. On the counter, along with coffee grinding machines and other devices several photos were scattered. They probably showed the Vane family on their numerous vacations. Middle aged, bald man with amazingly good figure held his dark haired and slightly plump wife in his arms. In front of them stood girl about Harry's age (not that you could tell his age by just looking at him), smiling and waving at the photographer. Not that the photographs were moving, It was a muggle district and muggle-visited shop after all. The rest of photographs showed the family in various exotic locations, from India, to South America.

When Harry satisfied his curiosity, he began to look for some hiding place. He went to the back rooms, which held several facilities for employees as well as rather big, probably magically expanded, storeroom which contained numerous coffee containers which were labeled after the place from which the coffee was brought here. He found a nice hiding place behind the container labeled as "Ecuador". There was enough place for him to run if he had to evacuate for some reason. Deciding to wit here for the opening, he began to exercise his newly acquired ability, this time trying to force his skin to resemble the corner of the storeroom.

The noise of the coffee shop reached it's peak. Several times already someone had entered the storeroom in search of certain kind of coffee. Harry supposed it would be lunch time by now. Moving silently and concentrating on letting his skin shift it's colour as he walked, he made sure that he was alone, and that no one was approaching the store room. He sneaked slowly, avoiding the personnel, and soon enough his ears were greeted with a voice speaking in heavy German accent.

I know she do not want to return honey, but are you really going to let her stay in home and not finish her education?

Yes, that was just what I want her to do. Haven't you heard her? She says she is harassed there. Granted, that what she did was rather irresponsible from her, but the reaction of her classmates is rather too severe.- responded softer, woman's voice, apparently belonging to Adelle Vane

Do you really believe in what she says? Do you honestly believe that Minerva or Dumbledore would have allowed something like that to happen? And before you answer, tell me something else. Where would you rather want your only daughter to be in times like that. When You-Know-Who returned. In our home, which I may add isn't as secure as I would want it to be, or in Hogwarts, the safest place in Britain? -Gustavus' heatedly said

The rest of the discussion was lost to Harry, when he had to duck into the room behind him, when another worker was sent to the storeroom. When he returned with the coffee to the shop, Harry again came as close as he could to the room in which both Vanes talked. He only managed to catch the last words of their conversation:

Have it your way then! - shouted rather annoyed Mrs. Vane, and rushed out of the room, paying no attention to the figure squeezed into a shadowed corner. Harry sighed softly, and had only time to move in the direction of the doors, when someone collided with him. Mr. Vane was rather heavy man, and caused Harry to fall on his backside, under the opposite wall.

Who are you, and what are you doing here!? - was grunted at him

Harry frantically watched as Mr. Vane advanced at him. He risked a look at the wall behind him. Creamy white paint greeted his eyes. With his neckerchief still on he looked like rather normal human. He smirked as he looked straight into Gustavus' eyes.

The older man's eyes got a little misty. His pupils became dilated as Harry pounded every ounce of his powers into the man's mind. He envisioned the old man going to work on the next day. He saw as he was walking down several corridors, and when he reached certain room he entered it. The room was empty, except for numerous cabinets, which he somehow knew were filed with student's identities. He promptly opened the cabinet next to the door. It contained the blank sheets of official ministry parchment. He knew he would be writing a letter to a certain someone, announcing his acceptance into Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He would put the letter in the right drawer, right after sealing it with ministry official seal. He then would forgot everything.

Laving the man's mind Harry slumped against the wall. The man still towered above him.

I asked you what are you doing here ?!! It's a private property! - came again in his direction. Harry heard it, as if it was transmitted though malfunctioning radio.

The man, without receiving an answer, began to drag him to the entrance, and rant about the teenagers nowadays. His angry rant was cut short when he reached the backdoor, and threw Harry, face first into the garbage pile. With an angry huff, the man turned around and went inside, closing the doors behind him. Harry only could muster enough energy to manage a smile into the garbage, before his world became black from his exhaustion.