He—Ron—tried to explain. He made Harry sit on the only sofa, a broken down piece of furniture that belonged in a landfill, and walked up and down in front of Harry, waving his arms excitedly while he talked. According to him Harry was actually 24 years old, and to believe him, a wizard.
Well, he had to believe him. Oh, anyone could make sticks shoot sparks. Uncle Vernon always had fireworks on New Year's Eve, so Harry wasn't much impressed with that trick, but Ron had shrunk the strange clothes to fit Harry like a glove. That was something he could have used with Dudders's castoffs and it reminded him of an ugly sweater his aunt had given him that had shrunk by itself. Aunt Petunia had not been happy, to state it mildly. Not been happy for a whole month.
The only way he could explain it was if the strangers had drugged him. They had that lecture in school. If it was a choice between magic and being drugged he would choose magic, he thought. So, for now, he believed Ron and nodded on everything he said. It all sounded fantastic. There was no way he had been an adult though, that was impossible.
Ron was explaining how Harry was the most famous wizard of all next to Merlin because he had killed a Dark Lord—whose name he wasn't allowed to say—when the other man brought the kid back. "... and then you died, Harry!"
"We need to get them to the Department of Mysteries," the man interrupted Ron and he dropped the kid unceremoniously on the sofa next to Harry.
The boy's clothes were fitting now, and just like Harry, he was not wearing shoes. Had he been 24 years old also? Ron's explanation of how Harry had gone from adult to kid had made no sense. But maybe that was Harry's fault, for while the man had been talking he had only listened with half of his attention, desperately wondering how he could get home. He might have taken a chance for the door had it not been for the kid's presence. He loathed to leave him here on his own with these men.
"Not St. Mungo's?" Ron asked.
"This is not something we want to advertise," the man said and while they discussed it Harry eyed the younger boy who now lay surprisingly quiet. He wasn't even blinking, his dark eyes staring strangely at something next to Harry's left ear.
Was he dead? He was as stiff as a board.
He surreptitiously touched the kid's foot. It was warm but would he be cold directly? The cat that Uncle Vernon ran over was still warm when Harry buried him. No, if he squinted he could see the kid breathe. The men were not watching them. Harry scooted closer and took hold of the kid's hand, hiding the move between folds of his dress. If Harry was so small he might have liked someone to hold his hand when he got abducted, but would probably not have asked. Snape. What a strange name.
"He doesn't remember anything, he thinks he's still a kid," Ron told the man.
Harry pretended not to pay attention. You learned more when people thought they were not heard. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sometimes thought his little cupboard under the stairs was soundproof. Just last week he had heard all about Aunt Marge and her unrequited love for her neighbour, Colonel Fubster. Harry did not blame the man for steering clear there. At all.
"See if he remembers you?" Ron said. "Harry? Do you remember Moody?"
"No, sir."
"I told you it's Ron. Really? He's difficult to forget."
He had already said no so he kept quiet and tried to ignore the strange blue eye that was looking at him as if it could see right through him. Moody. Like the dwarf? No, that was Grumpy, wasn't it? He bit his lip to stifle a giggle, it seemed you had to have a strange name to be a wizard. Would a kid named Harry even fit in?
"Come on then, we'll go to the Ministry," Ron said with a sigh, and then told Moody to carry Snape because he would rather not be touching that evil bastard, he'd sooner spit on him.
Moody did not seem to care and Harry quickly let go of Snape's hand when the man picked the kid up.
Then the oddest thing happened.
Moody took some glittery dust out of a bowl on the mantel shelf and threw it into the fireplace making the fire flare green. Then he said something and stepped into it! They disappeared and Harry's mouth fell open.
"Meet us in the Ministry, alright Harry?" Ron said, and the next moment he also threw some dust into the hearth, the fire flaring a second time. He could not hear what Ron shouted before he too stepped through and disappeared.
Harry blinked. They had left him all alone.
A heartbeat passed. Then he was up and rushing for the door. Not an exit, a bedroom! He ran through it, passing the mussed up bed to a second door, only to find a bathroom and backtracked again to the main room. There was no other exit. Could the fireplace be the only door? If only he had listened better to what they shouted, he dared not follow, it would be just his luck to say Abracadabra and then disappear into a black hole. Heart beating wildly in his throat he ran to the moldy curtains and flung them aside. It hid large windows that looked out on a dark forest and he scrabbled for the latch. Behind him, the fire flared again. Hurry! He pinched his fingers but did not let the pain stop him. There! It opened!
"Harry, wait!" Ron called. "Don't go there!"
He ignored the man and was halfway out, bringing his right leg over the sill, the cold air cutting into his skin when Ron shouted again.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The day seemed to be full of odd things happening. As soon as Ron spoke the words, Harry's legs locked together, his arms clamped to his sides, his body went rigid, and a million wasps buzzed through his brain. Having this happen halfway out of the window was not the best idea, for he tumbled the rest of the way like a fallen log. He never reached the ground.
"Leviosa!" Ron shouted behind him and Harry stopped midair, a hairbreadth between his nose and the dirt. He couldn't even blink or hold his breath and was completely helpless when he started rising in the air and returning through the window.
"God, I'm sorry, mate! I couldn't let you go into the forest, it's bloody dangerous!" Ron said as he picked Harry out of the air. "I'm going to carry you through the Floo, alright? We'll fix this, don't you worry."
He was carried to the hearth and then into the flame, helpless to stop him, only his eyes able to move.
Ron called out: "Ministry of Magic!" and the fire swirled around them.
He thought he would certainly burn, they must have mistaken him for someone else, another Harry, he couldn't be a wizard. Instead, he was hurled through a tornado of colours, rooms flashing in a sickening rush past his eyes. Then Ron stepped out into a long hall filled with even more fireplaces. He wanted desperately to scream but his throat was as stiff as the rest of his body. Please, don't go into another one!
"We'll find Moody and then I will unlock you—I don't want you to run again," Ron said, starting down the hall at a fast clip. "After we fixed you we will throw Snape into Azkaban where he belongs, I swear! All this time he pretended to be dead, mate, I'll be happy to fix that for him! Just look what he did to you—I told you he was up to no good!"
Ron was holding him against his chest and Harry couldn't see where they were going, only where they had been. They passed a dark hall with a blue ceiling on which strange symbols moved—was that lamp floating?—and rushed through a golden gate. Harry got a glimpse of another person who was wearing a pointy hat of all things, but they were not stopped. And then they were in a lift, going up.
Harry's stomach seemed to be unaffected by the magic for it cramped painfully. Strangely he did not feel hungry, even though he didn't have anything to eat today, this was exactly like the cramps he got when Dudders and his gang chased him after school.
What were they going to do to him?
What were they doing to Snape?
He suddenly felt ashamed for trying to run when he should have stuck with the kid. Snape had no one else to look after him and Harry was older than him, at the very least he should try and protect him against these people.
When the lift stopped and Ron stepped out into a room full of strangers, Harry made up his mind. If they unlocked him he would not try to run away again unless he could take the kid with him.
"Is that Harry?" A woman called, and her voice was high and shocked.
Suddenly Harry missed Aunt Petunia something fierce.