Harry woke from his sleep still curled into a ball. He could tell it was morning by the light coming under the door and heard his Aunt and Uncle moving about in the kitchen. His uncle was complaining loudly about the state of the government while his aunt stuffed Dudley with more food than he needed. Harry realized he had not eaten since the morning before and could feel his stomach cramping with the thought. It was a feeling he was used to, but he also needed to desperately use the loo. He knew better than to try to leave to cupboard under the stairs while his uncle was still here, though. He did not like either of the adults in the house, but if he had to choose which one he wanted to deal with it would be Aunt Petunia.
She at least didn't hit him. She made him cook and clean and didn't let him do much more than that, but she only yelled. Uncle Vernon would hit him if he made the smallest sound or did anything wrong. Uncle Vernon was a big man and it hurt when he hit Harry. Harry avoided being in the same room with him as much as possible. Sometimes it was a good thing to be in the cupboard, at least when he was in here they forgot about him and he was left relatively alone. His cousin Dudley didn't hit Harry and rarely even talked to him. He mostly just sat in front of the telly and ate the snacks that Aunt Petunia had Harry make for him.
He could hear his uncle finish his breakfast and new he would leave in the next few minutes for work. He would wait until then to leave his room. Twenty minutes later, Harry tried the door and found it unlocked. His Aunt must have unlocked it this morning when she came down the stairs. He stuck his head out and looked around to be sure the coast was clear. He raced as quickly and quietly up the stairs as possible and used the loo. Coming back down he walked into the kitchen and pulled up the stool to the sink to begin washing the dishes left from breakfast. He knew if he did things without being told, he would get to eat sooner rather than later. Just as he finished the dishes, his Aunt came back into the kitchen.
"Good, you've cleaned the kitchen. Here is your list of chores for the day. I expect them done by the time Vernon gets home or you know what will happen," she told him coldly.
"Yes Aunt Petunia." She turned to walk away and made it a few steps before turning back.
"You may eat one bowl of cereal. Then clean up your mess and get to work!" Harry drew a relieved breath. He was very hungry and glad she was going to let him eat. He wished he could have more than one bowl of cereal, but he knew better than to ask for more.
As Harry quickly ate and went about his day, his thoughts turned back to the letter that had arrived in the post yesterday. What would his new family be like? He could not imagine things being much worse than they were here. Surely if they were taking him away because his relatives did not treat him well that meant he would be placed somewhere better? Harry could only hope that was the case. He hoped for a normal family like the ones that he saw at the playground when Aunt Petunia made him leave the house because she had company. He tried not to get carried away, even in his own head, because he knew that no matter what adults told you, they could change their minds at any time. Uncle Vernon had taught him that lesson over and over again.
Harry finished his chores and found Aunt Petunia in the sitting room reading a ladies magazine while Dudley watched the telly. He did not speak to her, but waited for her to notice him standing there.
"Finished then, boy?" He nodded. "Your uncle will be home in an hour and we will be going out tonight to eat. Go somewhere that we won't have to see you." Harry nodded again.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia" He turned and left the room going out the front door and making his way down the road to the park. It was a sunny summer day, so Harry found himself tree to sit under and stretched out in the shade. He soon fell asleep in the warm air while imagining all the places he could end up when he left his Aunt and Uncles house for good.
At half one in the middle of London, John Watson looked around at the flat he stood in. If he hadn't been the one to clean it, John would not recognize the flat. It was larger than what it had always seemed, yet still felt warm and cozy. He had cleaned and packed all of the science equipment that had been cluttering the kitchen and carried it down to 221C. Mrs. Hudson was allowing him to store Sherlock's old things down there until he could decide what to do with them. John wasn't quite ready to get rid of them yet, but knew he had to make the flat safe for Harry. John and Mrs. Hudson had spent all last evening and the better part of today clearing and packing the clutter in the flat.
Some things had stayed because John just couldn't get rid of them yet. There was still a bison skull on the wall wearing headphones, the mantle still held a human skull, a jackknife thrust through a stack of mail, and an odd assortment of keepsakes from the cases he had worked with Sherlock. There were various stains on different surfaces, including the ceiling that John hadn't even tried to clean and the yellow smiley face on the wall still had bullet holes in it. It still felt like home to John, just cleaner.
John had left Sherlock's room for last. Although it was the place he spent the least amount of time, John thought it felt the most like Sherlock would walk back into it at any minute. It had been hard to open the wardrobe and see the expensive clothes hanging there. They still smelled of Sherlock and John could not help but give in to the temptation to take a few deep breaths. He came back to himself quickly when Mrs. Hudson came in behind him and started clearing out the dresser. It was good that she was here. She kept a running dialog about everything happening in the neighborhood, and helped to keep his mind off of what he was doing.
John allowed himself to go on autopilot as much as possible and just tried to complete the task without thinking about who's things he was packing away and why. There would be time later for that. But Harry would need a room to sleep in tonight, so they continued to work until it was done. John then shifted his few possessions into Sherlock's room while Mrs. Hudson changed the sheets on the bed in John's old room. John's old room was smaller than the one down stairs, and John thought that Harry would be comfortable in here. It needed some sprucing up to make it a proper little boy's room, but John thought that Harry might like to pick out his own things. He would wait for a few days and then take Harry shopping for whatever he needed.
After explaining to Mrs. Hudson the situation yesterday, she had immediately put his fears about not wanting a child in the house to rest. Her only question was "When will he be here?" before she started making a list of all the things they needed to do and what kind of biscuits did John think Harry might like. Once again John was reminded that he really did have the best landlady in London even if she wasn't his housekeeper. Truthfully she was more like a second mother to him after his had died so many years ago. She was also scarily efficient when she had a goal in mind. John had exhausted himself trying to keep up while she had made her list and sent him on errands.
There had been a brief worry about his financial situation before he remembered his meeting with Mycroft the previous afternoon. He had checked his bank account and nearly choked on his tea when he saw the balance. A very large sum of money had been deposited into his account. He had received a thick bundle of papers that morning that had explained he would continue to receive a monthly allowance that was almost quadruple what he made at the locum surgery, which would be directly put into his account on the first of every month. He had also noticed a few property deeds and other financial papers that he had put back in the envelope without looking at them. It seemed he was indeed a wealthy man thanks to Sherlock.
Putting his thoughts and worries aside, he brought a cuppa to Mrs. Hudson who was sitting in his chair and sank down onto the couch. They had finally finished putting the flat in order and had roughly an hour to spare before Dumbledore was set to arrive. He could hardly believe how much his life had changed in a little over a day. After their cuppa, Mrs. Hudson left to get ready for her bridge club meeting, saying that she was very excited to meet Harry and would be up early in the morning for her introduction. After she left John decided to clean himself up and have a small bite to eat.
Promptly, at half six, John heard the same popping noise as when Dumbledore had left yesterday, and was suddenly faced with three people appearing in his sitting room. He blinked trying to figure out what had happened, before deciding to just go with it.
"Right, yeah, okay...Professor Dumbledore," John greeted him with a nod and rose to shake hands once again. Dumbledore introduced the man and woman standing next to him. "These are my colleagues, Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They are here to help me with the protective spells and charms. This is Dr. John Watson cousin and new guardian of Harry Potter."
John shook their hands after introductions were made. Dumbledore and Shacklebolt immediately set to work while Professor McGonagall continued to stare at John. Minerva noted that the doctor did not flinch and fidget like most people when she leveled him with the stare, he simply stood there and gazed back at her making direct eye contact. After a few minutes of this she found what she was looking for in his gaze and broke their connection with a small smile.
"Yes, you will do very well Dr. Watson." With that statement she turned away and began to chant quietly under her breath. All three of John's guest had wands in their hands that were sending pulses and jets of light around the room in a non threatening manner. Each were quietly whispering in what sounded to John like Latin and he could visually see what looked like a protective barrier of some kind begin to absorb itself into the very walls of 221B. John remained where he was as he watched the magic being performed around him.
During their conversation the evening before, Dumbledore had explained the Statute of Secrecy and the special permissions he had had to obtain for John to be able to even know about magic, much less see it being performed. He was strictly forbidden to share with anyone, other than the witch and wizards currently present, anything about Harry's identity and secret. Dumbledore had also explained a few of the ins and outs of the wizarding world and had left John's head spinning with all the information. In only a few minutes, all three turned back to John and put their wands away inside their robes. Dumbledore smiled at John.
"Still with us Dr. Watson?" John cleared his throat and tried to wipe to stunned look off his face.
"Right. Yeah, yeah I'm still with you." Eyes twinkling, he extended his arm to John like a gentleman of old.
"Then lets go pick up young Mr. Potter and bring him to his new home. We are going to apparate. Hold on very tightly and do not let go, no matter what." Nodding his head, John stepped up beside the professor and grabbed his arm tightly. He heard the popping noise again and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself get sucked into what felt like a vacuum hose.
Seconds later, he felt his feet hit solid ground and stumbled a bit before being righted by Shacklebolt. The tall dark man steadied him before giving him a smile.
"Takes a few tries to get the landing right," he told John in a very deep voice. Standing under his own power once again, John allowed a small smile and nodded.
"Um..okay. I'll ..uh..work on that." Shacklebolt laughed again before becoming serious. John looked around at the firmly middle class neighborhood he now stood in. They were in the mouth of an alley in the shadows. It was just becoming dark as they stepped out into the light cast by the street lamp. Dumbledore started walking toward Number 4 and knocked on the door. John stood at the back of the group, Standing slightly behind Shacklebolt whose height dwarfed John.
He wasn't sure if he could face his cousin calmly knowing what she had done and had allowed to be done to a child. The door was opened by a large man with light brown hair and a ruddy complexion.
"You lot, what are you doing here? Get inside before the neighbors see you!" He stepped aside and hustled the small group into the sitting room. Petunia appeared from upstairs and came to stand beside her husband. Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at the couple.
"I believed you received a letter from me just a few days ago. We are here to take Harry. It was brought to our attention that you are treating him quite ill and that cannot be allowed to continue." Vernon sputtered and began to shout about the ingrate freak that had been brought to his house only a few years before. Instead of letting the insults continue, Kingsley stepped up and looked down at Mr. Dursley.
"Where is Harry? We will leave as soon as we have him." Petunia looked at her husband, then back at the magical group front of her. "I sent him out earlier. We are going to dinner and he knows not to come back into the house until we have left." Dumbledore looked at Minerva and Kingsley who turned and left the house to search for the small boy. Once Kingsley had moved, John was visible to his cousin.
"John! John Watson?" Standing at parade rest, John's expression of distaste did not change as he addressed his older cousin. "Petunia."
"What are you doing with those people John? Don't tell me you're one of them?" Petunia looked horrified at the thought of her cousin being a wizard.
"No, Petunia, I am not part of the magical world. I am here to escort Harry to my home. He will be coming to live with me." Vernon and Petunia both immediately tried to tell John what trouble the boy ways, how to discipline him, etc...but before they could get carried away John crossed his arms over his chest and in the blink of an eye Captain John Watson was standing before them.
"Enough." It was said in a normal volume, but in a tone that had caused more than a few hardened soldiers to come to attention. Both Dursleys immediately stopped talking, although Mr. Dursley's face went from red to almost purple at being spoken at thusly.
"I neither need or want the advice of two child abusers on how to raise Harry. Petunia, your parents must be rolling in their graves with how you have treated your own blood relations. My mother as well. You always were jealous of Lily, but taking it out on an innocent child is unacceptable. I renounce all ties with you and cut you out of my family." With that, John marched out the front door and into the now darkened street. He was so angry, he started shaking. Other than Harry, he had just cut ties with the last of his family. Good riddance too.
Taking deep breaths, John was able to calm himself down by the time Dumbledore joined him in the yard. Dumbledore simply put a hand on his shoulder and stood beside while waiting for John to speak. "I am sorry Professor for losing my temper. We need to find Harry. Where shall we start looking?"
Dumbledore squeezed John's shoulder once before letting his hand fall. Minerva and Kingsley were walking back towards the house from opposite directions and met up with the two men waiting at the end of the drive.
"I did not see him, Albus." Minerva told him quietly, Kingsley just shook his head in the negative. panicking slightly, John forced himself to calm down.
When he was a small boy his favorite place had been in the woods. Trees to lay under or climb had been his playground. "Is there a park nearby?" Kingsley nodded,"I walked past one but did not see anyone there."
John nodded. "I'm going to go back and check. Is there a spell you can do to locate him?" John looked to Dumbledore. Shaking his head in the negative.
"It will draw attention to the area if magic is performed here. We want to avoid that if possible." Nodding again, John looked in the direction Kingsley had come from.
"I have a feeling he's in the park. I'm going to look again. Kingsley, if you'll come with me?" Kingsley nodded his assent. "We'll be back in a few minutes, hopefully with Harry." They departed for the park leaving the two professors behind.
Entering the park, John instructed Kingsley to look in the trees while John began searching the shadows for the boy. Almost halfway around the little circular park, tucked into a deep shadow, the small torch that John carried illuminated the figure of a small boy asleep on the grass. John stepped up after giving Kingsley a small whistle to let him know that he had found Harry.
As John knelt down to check the boy and began shining his light over his face, both his anger at his cousin and his grief over losing Sherlock rushed through him. The small boy had a head full of unruly dark hair, quite reminiscent of Sherlock's wayward curls. He was small and clearly malnourished. There were bruises in varying degrees of healing on his arms and John would bet other places on his body. As Kingsley joined John, he let out a low growl in his throat at the sight of the small boy. Using the light emanating from the end of Kingsley's wand and putting away his own torch, John carefully picked the boy up to place his head on John's shoulder.
Cradling him carefully in his arms, John stood and turned to make his way back to the other members of their group. As they walked, John took stock of the boy in his arms. He was very light and John could feel the ribs and vertebrae sticking out slightly in the small boys back and chest. He was wearing dirty jeans and a worn t-shirt with a hole in it, as well as trainers that looked to be too large for him. Gaze forward and jaw clenched, John and Kingsley made it back to Number 4. Looking Dumbledore right in the eyes John made sure to let his rage show.
"You need to get us away from here Professor. Before I go back into that house." Dumbledore nodded.
"If you will hand Harry to Kingsley, we will take you back to Baker Street." John carefully handed the small boy off and took hold of Dumbledore's arm once again. With a final glance at Number 4 Privet Drive, the small party apparated out of sight.