Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Short version, if you recognize it from someplace else, it's not mine.
There was more than the normal mid-morning clamor of families bustling about Diagon Alley in mid-July. The muggleborns could be identified by their open mouths and awed expressions at the sights and sounds of magic coming from every square inch of the marketplace. The pureblood families usually avoided the week after Hogwarts letters went out, not wanting to mingle with the lower caste. If they couldn't avoid it, they did their school supply shopping via servants and house elves that week. If they couldn't avoid using servants and elves, they certainly didn't gawk at the magical shopping district.
This year was different.
This year, Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts.
Everyone wanted to be in the Alley when he arrived, a fact that the businesses gratefully exploited.
The rumors and myths surrounding the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and 'You-Know-Who' were as prolific as they were outlandish. Secretly trained by Merlin reborn and taming dragons in Argentina were some of the more reasonable ones flying about. Only one person knew for sure where Harry was, and Dumbledore refused to answer any questions. All that was certain was he didn't attend any celebrations, gatherings, or parties, and no mail owl was able to find him. Some newspapers published eyewitness accounts of witches and wizards who had randomly spotted Harry over the years, but those sources were considered unreliable for the most part.
If the Quibbler was to believed, the disappearances of several prominent members of good society over the years could be attributed to them being secret death eaters who had attacked young Harry, but had subsequently been defeated by him (a preposterous notion since the courts proved they were under the imperius curse during the war with the Dark Lady and were definitely not death eaters).
Regardless of what the truth might have been, no one who grew up listening to stories of Harry Potter wanted to miss the chance to be the first to see him. Dark, Light, and Neutral families all wanted to take the measure of the boy who had significantly altered the political landscape of the Wizarding World for a decade without any effort on his part.
A few in the Alley had other intentions, though.
"He's here, he's coming," came the cry from the Leaky Cauldron, alerting all within earshot that Harry Potter would soon be arriving at Diagon Alley to humbly do his shopping for the first year of Hogwarts.
Several girls and boys swooned at the thought of the orphaned savior of the Wizarding World taking time out of his busy schedule to make himself available to be seen. Some conniving parents plotted how to lure the boy into their family.
The walled off entrance to the Alley parted and in strode Harry Potter. Those who knew his mother and father could immediately see the family resemblance. Bright red messy hair of his mother, too red to be confused with the Weasley family, and messy enough to only be inherited from the Potter family. He was the spitting image of his mother, except for his eyes. His piercing eyes made the older crowd think of James Potter. The lightning bolt scar stood bold against his pale forehead skin.
Adorned by expensive, but simple, robes, the fire haired child-wizard shook hands and exchanged kind words with his well-wishers as he made his way to Gringotts. Taking two steps up the stairs to the bank, Harry turned around to face the growing crowd.
"Hello, fellow magic users. It is indeed I, Harry Potter, the one who survived the killing curse and defeated You-Know-Who," Harry pontificated with one hand raised and the other on his chest. "As a poor orphan growing up, I had my loving adopted family to support and guide me. They were non-magical themselves, but their kindness and compassion gave me strength to accept my magical heritage when I became aware of it. Imagine if I was placed in a magic-hating house, like my vile Aunt Marge who raises dogs to bite those she disagrees with, I might have been neglected or abused during my bouts of incredible accidental magic. But now that I have received my letter to attend Hogwarts, I feel an obligation to support and guide my fellow students, at least those who require it. I will do my best to be a beacon of hope to anyone who is discovering this wonderful world of magic for the first time, for I am Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry ended his speech to applause and did a flourishing bow. Several families, dragging their children behind them, rushed forward to grab the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived. Before they could reach him, disaster struck.
A sickly-purple spell raced over the heads of the crowd and impacted Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Savior of the Wizarding World. Dark brown blood and guts splashed everywhere from the massive wound in his abdomen the spell caused, setting off a panic. Most of the crowd ran for cover. The rest located the attacker and shot red spells at them. Over the noise, some were able to hear the words of the young, dying, Harry Potter.
"Alas, I am mortally wounded. The cruel twist of fate shows itself. I survived the killing curse as only a babe, cast by the most fearsome Dark Witch, yet now I am struck down by an common assailant, most vile. Those who attack children are of the lowest kind. And yet, I have one last trick up my sleeve, with which I might be able to survive this blow and cheat the grim reaper who stalks us all. Should this be my last appearance, fair folk of the magical world, know that your well being was in my last thoughts before deaths claims me."
With those last gasping words, Harry Potter pulled a glass sphere from his pocket and threw it on the ground. A large purple smoke cloud obscured the area, and when it cleared a few seconds later, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was gone.
With the commotion near Gringotts, no one noticed the two adults and two children at the back of the crowd keeping their distance from the bank and Harry Potter. All four were in simple yet comfortable robes, perfect for blending into the background of the magical alley.
"He made me seem like a pretentious asshole," Harry complained, his distinguishing facial features disguised with makeup and contact lenses, and his short brown hair unremarkable to any passerby.
"Then he played you perfectly," Dudley laughed.
"Be grateful your Uncle Clayface was available and willing to be bait for this visit," Pamela chastised. "That spell he got hit with might have killed you."
"Has his acting gotten better or worse over the years?" Harley asked, cocking her head to one side to process the performance she'd just witnessed.
"Different circumstances," Pamela said. "He had to play an existing character, instead of making up his own. Not much of a difference to those who don't know better, but we've live with Harry. Plus, he didn't look much like the real Harry."
"I'm just glad it's Harry going to Hogwarts and not me," Dudley sighed. "The first time he steps in Diagon Alley as himself, and they're trying to kill him. If this is what happens with strangers, I'd hate to see what the teachers will do to him once they really get to know him."
"Hey, I'm not that bad," Harry whined.
"Yeah, Harry, you are," Dudley countered with a punch to his shoulder. Harry grumbled something unintelligible before Pamela placed a calming hand on each of their children's shoulders. "I wonder how much you could make off of official Harry Potter merchandise. Enough to buy a sense of humor?"
"Enough, boys. We have shopping to do, and if you don't cause a scene, we'll stop by the pawn shop on the way home to pick up an untraceable weapon for both of you."
"A gun?" Dudley hoped.
"Not until you are twelve," Harley countered. "We have to see how well they check your luggage at Smeltings and Hogwarts before you can take the fun stuff to school."
"Aww," the boys whined simultaneously.
"Clothes first," Pamela ordered. "If we get everything before lunch, we can stop by Knockturn Alley too."
"Yay!" the boys cheered simultaneously, causing their mothers to shake their head with a chuckle.
"Ten quid if you can snag a fishnet outfit like Sensei 'Tana wears," Dudley whispered to his cousin.
"Why the fuck would I want that?" Harry whispered back as his parents walked in front of them.
"Prop for a future practical joke," Dudley grinned. "Imagine their faces if you wore it the next time Sensei 'Tana came around for a training session."
Though Harry didn't respond, the idea began to percolate in his tiny pre-teen mind.
"What a benjo shitful day," Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sighed to herself as report after report came in. The catastrophe in Diagon Alley had caused no end of headache for her. Someone with a deathwish knocked on her door and entered, which did not improve her mood.
"Amelia, such a pleasure to see you," Chief Warlock Dumbledore sauntered in without a care in the world.
"Quit your fuckin' lollygagging, old man, out with it before I trespass you from my office with my boot."
"Manners still haven't improved, I see," Dumbledore sighed.
"And not likely to improve for you and your podsnappery either. Now out with it."
"I would like an update on today's events in Diagon Alley."
"You and every other fuckin' whooperup that thinks I do this job for fun," Bones growled.
"I am the Chief Warlock," Dumbledore reminded.
"And that is the only reason you aren't on your arse in the hallway," Bones shot back before picking up her notepad and flipping to the first page. "Sturgis Podmore, arrested after being apprehended by civilians in Diagon Alley after casting an entrails expelling curse at Harry Potter during a large gathering on the steps of Gringotts this morning. Being held and questioned, claiming he was a victim of the imperious curse. Trial date has not been set yet."
"Was he?" Dumbledore asked.
"How the fuck should I know," Bones snapped back. "We can't use veriseterum on him since he's a pureblood, the spells used to subdue him would have covered any traces of the unforgiveable if it had been used. We don't even know what to charge him with at this point. We can't find Harry Potter, so we don't know if it was murder or attempted murder. Now, if there is anything else you want, you can fuck the doorknob when I slam the door on your way out."
"I can assure you that Harry Potter is still alive and well," Dumbledore provided.
"You can take your assurances and clean out your arsehole with them. Unless you will produce the boy for an interview, all they're good for is funneling the dribble of shit you spout. You've never let anyone talk with or examine the boy before, so unless you've changed your mind on that I've got nothing more for you here."
"Very well, Amelia," Dumbledore nodded while moving towards the exit. "Until next time."
"I'm sure it'll be much sooner than I wish," Bones called out to his back.
The door closed again, leaving Amelia Bones alone once again with the paperwork detailing the whole mess. Personally, she was inclined to believe Podmore's claim since he wasn't on her personal watch list of death eaters, but she had been wrong before. Amelia hadn't expected her wife to be a death eater either, but that didn't stop the love of her life from trying to kill her during the war. Thankfully, Amelia was faster with the wand when it mattered most, and her infant niece had survived with her because of it. The rest of her family wasn't as lucky.
"Amelia, might I have a word," interrupted Cornelius Fudge, one of the many people she wished would leave her alone.
"Fuck off, you corny-faced puff guts. I don't have to tell you shit until the investigation is over, so you can take your bloated carcass out of my office and suck your own dick until I submit my formal report."
The Minister scurried away, as usual, and Amelia continued reading the witness statements. Their stories were thankfully similar and the provided memories internally consistent, but the specks of unusual clay found at the scene still bothered her.
She did hope Dumbledore was right, and that Harry Potter was safe.
AN: If you haven't seen it, watch Clayface's acting scenes in Harley Quinn. They are hilarious.