Harry Potter and the Hermetic Arts

Chapter 5: Diagon Alley Redux & King's Cross

Harry looked at himself in the mirror; he had been awake a few hours, performed his daily morning routine of exercise and erecting magical defenses, taken another cold shower, and though his stomach was starting to twist upon itself in hunger, he did not want to disturb what was in the kitchen and instead choose to ensure he was properly dressed and groomed for the day; yet, despite his best efforts, his unruly nest of raven hair was refusing to cooperate.

With a sigh, he considered the clothes he was wearing. They were nearly identical to the day before, but seeing as they were second-hand clothing handed down from his cousin, that was no surprise. Nonetheless, they fitted him poorly, and as somebody who was supposed to have unimaginable wealth within the magical world where he was returning, he needed to at least look presentable.

The boy considered the robes he had purchased the day previous but immediately decided against them; they were a school uniform, and he had no intention of wearing a school uniform when he was not required to, particularly when the uniform looked like a loose dress.

This, of course, meant his only real option until he purchased clothes that fit him properly was to remedy the situation with magic; however, while his magic was versatile, he did not have anything in his repertoire that could directly alter his clothes.

He realized, however, the limitation did not preclude him from doing other things to his clothes; even if he could not directly change what he was wearing, he could still find a way to change its appearance.

The incantation was easy—muto for transformation, imagonem for image—but it was the visualization of the result that he needed for his intent that was difficult. Simply put, Harry had very little idea as to what was nice clothing for a wealthy child going out for a day on the town.

The boy wracked his memory desperately trying to remember something, anything that would suit his needs for the day. Then, something came to mind and he smiled wryly to himself; he turned his hands palm-side up at waist level, fingers held together and pointed away from his body and towards the centerline of his body, and brought his thumbs to the base of his ring fingers in the tattva mudra, drawing Astral power into his body as he said "Muto imagonem."

~ooOoo~

Karen North, waitress and struggling actress, had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn't imagining things. She almost did not recognize Harry Potter, a friend and a regular amongst the role-playing games played at Bourne's Comic and Games, in the stylish clothes he was wearing. Gone were the oversized hand-me-downs he usually wore, and in their place was a Savile Row style grey suit that looked like it was lifted straight from the 1960s with its soft padded shoulders, very narrow lapels, full chest but suppressed waist and trousers with double forward pleats; visible under the suit jacket was a white collared shirt and a black necktie, while a pocket square peered out from the front pocket, the edge of the white fabric running parallel to the pocket's lip. Over his shoulder and across his body was the haversack from the previous day.

She thought the suit looked familiar, and in the moment it took her to place where she had seen it previously, Harry had walked up and greeted her with a, "Good morning, Karen."

"Morning, Harry," she said, as she reached down to straighten his necktie. "Is this a replica of the suit Sean Connery wore in Dr. No?"

"Yes and no," said the boy with a slight smile. "I'm still wear my usual clothes, but I crafted an illusion that makes it look like I'm wear a very nice suit. The illusion interacts with sight and touch, so people and both see it and feel it."

"Now I feel underdressed," said the actress as she looked down at her own clothes, a sleek sleeveless white sheath dress, a black bolero and a pair of black flats with bows on the topline.

"No, you look beautiful," Harry said with a charming smile, before nodding towards the stylish sling bag she was carrying. "I hope you brought money for the tube," he said. "I know the gentleman is supposed to pay, but I still don't have a single quid to my name."

"But you do have a giant vault of gold coins," Karen joked with a smile. "Where are we going?"

"Paddington railway station, then the tube to Charing Cross Road," Harry answered, before slipping into Upper Received Pronunciation. "When we get there, if anyone asks, you are my stepmother, and we are very, very posh."

With a smile, Karen adopted a similar accent as she pressed the money for the train ticket into Harry's hands. "We should be going, little brother," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "The train will not wait for any of us."

~ooOoo~

Karen had enjoyed the half-hour trip from Langley station to Paddington station; they had spent the train ride working out their backstory, with the round-faced brunette adopting the persona of Harry's middle-aged foster father's trophy wife, a woman who had captivated David, the name they chose for Harry's fictional foster father, with her girl-next-door beauty, wit and subtle charm. It was an exercise they were both comfortable with, something they had practiced time and again when creating characters for the tabletop role-playing games they took part in, and while Karen always used the opportunity to hone her craft while she could not find roles for herself, she suspected Harry used the opportunity to escape the horrors of his home life.

The tube ride, however, had been awkward; it was fairly clear to Karen Harry simply was not comfortable with being around so many strangers, more than few who gave the suit-dressed boy inquiring looks. The cramp quarters of the subway train did little to put the boy at ease, and his manner reminded her of when she first met him three years ago, before he had gained self-confidence through role-playing.

Nonetheless, they successfully detrained at Charing Cross underground station, and now, Harry once again was himself, confident and full of life. Though they were walking nearly side by side, hand-in-hand, most would not be able to tell the small boy in the bespoke suit was leading the way with nothing more than a gentle pull and some hand pressure.

The place they stopped before at was nothing if not unimpressive, a simple black door on a corner building of black walls. It was only after Harry had opened the door and pulled her inside that Karen felt like she had traveled backwards in time.

The interior of the pub was poorly with just one high window and numerous candles placed on the candlesticks strewn about the long, wide tables one might find at a renaissance fair, yet even in the dim light, she could see the dust floating in the air. As it was early in the morning, the pub was all but deserted, with only the barman at the counter polishing tankards with a cloth.

"Mister Harry Potter," the barman said, and the boy nodded; Karen had wondered if Harry really was as famous as he had said he was, but for a barman to recognize him by sight…

"Mister barman," said the boy, and Karen was reminded once again of Harry's bad habit of not learning the names of anyone he did not consider important; she and the others at the shop had tried to break him of the habit, but he was still more likely to remember the name of a named NPC in a campaign from a year ago than somebody he had only met for a few minutes despite a handshake introduction.

Karen let herself be pulled out of the pub through the back door and frowned as she found herself in a dead end alleyway walled entirely in brick. She started to ask Harry what he was doing but thought better when she saw him performing a mudra and saying something.

There was a shimmer in the air, and then a fedora appeared on the boy's head, seated low on his brow. Curiously, she reached down to touch it and felt the felt material against her fingers, though it failed to move when she tried to lift it.

"It's not real," Harry said. "Like suit, an illusion with a tactile and a visual component."

The actress started to say something but Harry was once again performing a mudra and saying something in Latin, as he always did when he was using magic.

She could barely keep her jaw from dropping as the brick facade before her split open to reveal an archway, beyond which a street bustled with people in robes and hats going about their business like everything was normal. The narrow street was crammed with two- and three-story buildings, with storefronts on the ground floor and the upper levels likely residences.

As the boy pulled her down the street, Karen found herself staring in wonderment at everything she walked by. Here, hidden away in the heart of London, was a secret shopping district resembling what she had imagined Victorian England would look like if it had been crossed with Dungeons & Dragons and be given time to be populated with people.

In one shop window, she saw a cauldron on display, and it would have merely been odd and not marvelous were it not for the rod stirring in the cauldron without any visible hand to guide it.

In another window, she saw various bits of flesh and greens she could not recognize on display, tagged with names like "Chinese Chomping Cabbage", "Lizard's Leg" and "Essence of comfrey".

A crowd of small children gather around yet another storefront, staring wistfully at the broom on display while chattering amongst themselves in longing tones. That was something that did not make sense to Karen, and so, she asked Harry.

"If Kiki's Delivery Service is to be believed, they fly on them," was the answer Harry had given her in a clipped tone.

Karen remembered watching the movie, brought in by and shown at the insistence of Rosemary, the chemistry post-graduate student, during one of Bourne's Comics and Games many movie nights, and how Harry had watched the the animated film in rapt attention.

"Don't you want a broom so you can fly?" asked Karen.

"Why? I can already fly without a broom," said Harry flatly.

"You can?" Karen was surprised.

"Flying was one of the first things I learned to do once I started studying techniques and forms," said the boy with a shrug. "Besides, everybody wishes they could fly; it's like being Superman."

The actress accepted the child's explanation as he said it; it made sense, after all, that children would want to fly on their own if they could. Besides, she was to busy looking up at the wide variety of owls in cages hung in front of store with a "Eeylops Owl Emporium" sign.

Before she knew it, they had reached the bank, a towering white building of marbled stone and bronze doors; on either side of the doors, in uniforms of scarlet and gold, stood creatures she had previously only seen in fantasy art, and never in that shade or with so much hair.

"Goblins?" she asked, and Harry nodded, pulling the door open with one hand.

She followed him as he strode purposefully through the lobby before stopping at the end of a queue forming at the tall podium at the far end of the room.

"What are we queuing for?" she asked.

"Bank vault," said the boy shortly, and Karen took the opportunity of look over the bank's amazing interior. It was much more spacious than any bank she had ever visited, and there were more tellers employed in the single branch's than the half-dozen others she had been to combined previously, even if all the tellers were using quills and parchment instead of calculators and computers.

It did not take long for the queue to reach Harry, and Karen watched as the boy reached into his pocket and retrieve a tiny golden key, a key more ornate than any other key she had ever seen.

"Harry Potter, for Harry Potter's vault," Harry said in a low voice as he handed over the key to the goblin on the high podium, who examined it closely before beckoning a waiting goblin, who approached the podium to have something whispered in his ear and the key handed to him.

"This way, Mister Potter," said the goblin with key, bidding the boy and his companion to follow.

"You may want to hold onto your knickers," Harry said, and Karen wondered what he meant.

~ooOoo~

The actress could barely hold onto her breakfast as she stumbled out of the mine cart; only Harry's timely assistance kept her upright, and she still wobbled as she walked while she struggled to regain her equilibrium.

So intent she was on not being sick that she missed whatever the goblin acting as their guide had done, though she did not miss the gigantic metal door swinging open.

For the first time in her life, Karen found herself truly at a loss for words. Inside what was obviously a vault was more coins than she had ever seen in her life, piled high in many heaps that nearly reached the ceiling.

Gold!

Silver!

It was more wealth than she had ever seen in her life.

"Before you take a dive into the gold like Scrooge McDuck, remember, gold is a metal, which is harder than human bones," Harry said. Karen noted the amused smile on the boy's lips and flushed in embarrassment at having her first impulse read like she was an open book.

Karen watched as Harry entered the vault and went to the numerous stacks of books placed near the entrance of the vault, more books than she had ever seen in one place at once outside of a bookstore or a library, and take several stacks of books, each tied together with twine, placing them into of the smaller pockets of his haversack. Then, he walked to each of the remaining stack of books and shoveled it into the largest pocket of his bag.

"There must be hundreds of books here," Karen said, as Harry continued depositing books into his bag. Then, her brow furrowed as she realized something. "How are you fitting all those books into your bag?"

"It's bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS," said the boy with a smile, before patting the bag affectionately. "It's a very handy haversack." Then, as he considered the many remaining stacks of books for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there would be so many. You must be bored."

"It's nothing," Karen said with a smile, trying to ease Harry's frown. "I'm glad I can help; I don't get to do that for you often."

"You always do what you can," the boy said with a wistful smile. "This may take a while."

~ooOoo~

It had taken more than a while for Harry to gather his books, and another stomach-wrenching ride in the mine cart to return to ground level, but Karen was glad to be back outside once more. If nothing else, the fresh air was helping with her nausea, sleepwalking after Harry as he led her by hand while she tried to collect her thoughts.

She didn't even notice he had pulled her into a small shop until a hand waved before her face, followed by the snapping of fingers, brought her out of her reverie, forcing her eyes to focus.

It was then that Karen realized Harry had brought her inside a jeweler's, and her eyes widened momentarily in awe at the beautiful accessories on display.

Necklaces of exquisitely wrought silver. Gold rings inlaid with precious stones. Delicately engraved pendants on slender chains. Delicate earrings sculpted in mysterious designs.

"What are we doing here?" she asked Harry, as the boy looked over the items on display.

"You've done so much for me already," he said plainly. "I wanted to get your something as a token of my gratitude."

"But you don't have to," she protested.

"But I want to," the boy countered, taking her hand and guiding her to the counter, where a salesgirl watched the two with a look barely-contained amusement on her face. "What looks good to you?"

"I really shouldn't," Karen protested weakly as her eyes traveled between the numerous accessories on display, but she found her eyes were always drawn back to a singular silvery pendant carved in a symbol she did not recognize in any way.

Harry followed her eye line, then nodded to the clerk, nodding his chin towards the pendant the actress couldn't keep her eyes off of. "We'll have that one."

"It'll be two hundred sixty-seven Galleons," said the clerk, as she pulled the necklace from the display. Then, as Harry began to count coins from the pouch around his neck, she added, "If you tell your pouch how many Galleons you want, it'll retrieve them for you."

Harry said the number of gold pieces required, and they tumbled out of the purse and onto the counter in a pile. "Huh," he said. "Wish someone had told me that beforehand."

"It's common sense," said the clerk as she placed the pendant into the boy's hand before scooping up the coins.

Karen let Harry take her by hand and lead her to a chair, guide her to sit down, and instinctively pulled aside her thick chocolate locks, allowing Harry to fasten the clasp of the pendant behind her neck. Looking into the mirror before her, Karen looked at the piece of jewelry resting against the white of her dress and whispered, "It's beautiful, Harry."

"You might want to tuck it under your clothes, though," said the boy. "I mean, it's silver and it looks expensive."

Swallowing with a nod, Karen lifted the pendant and slipped it under the front of her dress; as the silver charm came to a rest, she felt the cool of the pendant kiss the skin between her breasts and a comforting warmth radiated through her body, enfolding her in its welcoming embrace as sultriness permeated her to her core.

~ooOoo~

Seated at an outdoor table, eating as they watched passersby, Karen still felt like she was floating on air, her mind serene and almost a million miles away yet present at the same time. Across the table, Harry was quietly making notes on a napkin between bites.

"You know, Harry," Karen said, breaking the comfortable silence. "When you said you were left with a bag of gold pieces, I didn't realize you so wealthy."

"I didn't find out until yesterday," said Harry, looking up from his writing, "but I might well be a millionaire. I think someone's been keeping it from me on purpose; yesterday's during bank visit, the trog had my key, and before that, it was apparently in the possession of one Albus Dumbledore, 'Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards'."

"I can practically hear the quotes in your voice," Karen said airily, eating another bite from the plate in front of her.

"What I don't understand why somebody like that would have my personal bank vault key," Harry said. "His titles makes it seem like he's a very important and busy person, yet he has in his possession something that does not belong to him. Let's say it my parents had the key before they were killed; why would he have it afterwards?"

"Maybe they gave it to him for safekeeping," suggested the actress.

"Would you give your safe deposit key to somebody who clearly has more important jobs for safekeeping?" asked Harry.

"I don't have a deposit box," said the woman, before pausing to think. "But if I did, I wouldn't give it to somebody like that; I'd give it to my mother or father."

"Exactly," said the boy. "So, how does he end up with it in his possession? The best guess would be he came into possession of the key outside of legal means. That he had access to my vault and didn't tell me earlier, tells me he deliberately kept the information from me. Why?"

"I don't know," Karen said. "You're starting to sound like Romy."

"She might be paranoid, but that doesn't mean the world isn't out to get me. Think about it:

"When I was a toddler, I was attacked in my home by a 'dark lord' who people still won't say the name of despite having been history for nearly a decade, after said 'dark lord' murdered my mother and father. Next, I'm placed with my aunt and uncle, who clearly never wanted me, and took every opportunity to neglect and starve me, and allow their child to abuse me; even when they're reported to the badges for child abuse, like what you guys have tried to do for me, nothing ever comes of it, like the feet have been paid off. Then, one day, out of the blue, I find out I'm wealthy and I'm famous, the darling of a secret world I've never been told about, and I'm plucked out of an abusive home life and into a secret world of magic, where the unwashed masses can't wait to shake my hands and thank me for doing something I probably had nothing to do with."

"When you put it like that, it does sound like a conspiracy," the actress agreed.

"Know what Goldfinger told Bond? 'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.', and if I look at this plainly, it looks like enemy action."

"You think someone's out to get you," Karen surmised.

"Got to be," said Harry. "And by withholding my wealth, Albus Dumbledore put me in a situation where I had no means of protecting myself from my abusers; with money, I could have greased the wheels of justice, if nothing else. If he's not the principle actor working against me, he's at least a part of the plot to ensure my oppression."

"But why?" asked the actress.

"I'm a recognizable folk hero," said the boy. "Maybe they fear I'll lead an uprising. Maybe they needed me out of the way until I could be a pawn. Maybe they're planning to weaponize me; Hogwarts apparently has a class titled 'Defense Against the Dark Arts', which sounds like they're expecting children to be facing 'Dark Arts', and from that I can only surmise they're likely a culture where using children as soldiers may not be uncommon. Why else would an eleven-year-old be taught those kinds of things?"

Karen swallowed as she digested Harry's well-reasoned arguments, silently cursing Rosemary in the back of her mind for turning the boy into a conspiracy theorist like her.

"I'm surprised you're not more impressed by all this magic," she said, deciding a change in subject would be good.

"Why?" the boy asked.

"It's magic! It's magical!"

Harry gave the actress a look, the type one might give another for saying something stupid, and Karen felt anger rise in her chest momentarily, only to be washed away by the warmth suffusing her body and soul.

"I suppose it'd be amazing to you," Harry said after a moment. "This is new to you.

"I use magic almost every day, though. Those miniatures that move on their own when we're playing tabletop? Golems made with the Hebrew word for truth and infused with Astral power. Why does the table never get dirty? It's been etched with symbols and enchanted to stay clean. I can name more instances, if you'd like."

"That makes sense," said Karen with a nod. "So tell me, what other magic do you use?"

~ooOoo~

It was early afternoon by the time they departed Diagon Alley; Karen wanted to stay longer and explore the shopping district, but had relented to Harry's sense of urgency and agreed to accompany him to King's Cross Station in search of "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters".

The search had been frustrating; there were no obvious physical signs of the platform and the railway workers they had asked all looked at the two like they were mad or thick.

So frustrated were the pair that Harry tried to lean back on the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Karen watched in horror as the barrier behind Harry gave way and he fell backwards through it, almost in slow motion, even as she scrambled after him, feeling like she was moving in water, reaching for him, her hand barely catching one of his flailing palms, his grasp clutching her hand desperately as their fingers intertwined.

She failed to stop Harry's falling momentum, and was in fact pulled into the barrier after him, landing on him with a thump.

With a groan, she picked herself up, helping Harry up with one hand as she looked around, taking in the sights around her.

Here was an abandoned train platform, dusty with disuse. Stopped at the platform was a black-and-red steam engine with numerous passenger cars trailing it.

"This must be Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," Karen said airily, straightening her dress and jacket, dusting herself off with her hands.

"Must be," Harry agreed as he spotted the sign hanging from the wall reading just that.

Karen started pulling Harry back towards the barrier they had fallen through, feeling a growing unease at the abandoned train platform, but stopped when she felt him resist. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing for the first time the boy's flushed face.

She watched as the boy fidgeted nervously, awkwardly running his fingers through his unruly hair as he clearly gathered his courage to say something. In a way, it was very cute in the way a boy embarrassed by something might be.

After a moment, Harry exhaled deeply and spoke, the words falling out of him in a rush, like a dam had just broke, and she realized just how much courage it took him to say what was on his mind at that moment. "Karen, I've fancied you since the first time I met you. But, you're more than a decade older than me, and I'm going off to boarding school at the end of the month, so nothing can happen between us."

"There's also the fact I think of you like a little brother," Karen said glibly, mischievously pinching the small boy's cheek and eliciting a smile.

"There's that," he agreed. "And your friendship means too much to me for me to want to ruin it with something as silly as sneaking about trying to sneak a peek at you starkers or stealing your knickers or other lacy things."

"Is that what boys do when they fancy someone?" asked the actress with a twinkle in her eye.

"I don't know," said Harry with a chuckle. "I don't have any friend my age, and I'm never going to ask Ethan, Martin or Shaun for that kind of advice; none of them look like they know how to act like a gentleman, and I have to act like a gentleman. Otherwise, I'll be just another wealthy lout."

"Well, you can always ask for my advice," Karen said, leaning over to affectionately kiss the boy lightly on the top of the head. "Promise I won't lead you wrong."

Harry smiled warmly. "That may a long ways off," he protested mildly, shaking his head ruefully. "I just got over my first childhood crush!"

A beat followed, and then he said, "Well, then, that's everything I wanted to get done today."

"To Jason's, then!" Karen said with a laugh, taking Harry by the hand and leading him back through the barrier they had previously fallen through.

Author's Notes: The first chapter to be mostly written from a perspective besides Harry's; I generally try to keep things from Harry's point of view because it's his story, but sometimes, it helps to see the world from a normal person's eyes. Also, there's value in seeing his relationships with those who became his support system. Besides, there's nothing quite like a childhood crush, and then realizing nothing could ever come of it.

My thanks to Shinshikaizer for writing the original pitch, and my friend goalie12345 for editing.