Chapter Seven: In Which Friends Are Made in Unexpected Places
Harry seriously considered not showing back up to the spot where they'd told the creep . . . but it was a really good spot, and they weren't ashamed to admit they wanted to swindle more cash out of the dumbass. They liked to think they were a principled person, but they weren't above taking money out the hands of entitled cunts.
Saturday morning came again, breakfast was cooked, eaten, and cleaned up, and then they were back on the Knight Bus headed for London once more. The driver and attendant (Ernie from canon, but not Stan Shunpike yet) had pretty much gotten used to seeing them over the course of the months they'd been on this routine, so neither bothered to ask Harry where they wanted to go — they already knew.
When Harry strolled up to their spot, the guy was already there, leaning against a pillar like a wannabe. Either the dude naturally had stalker tendencies or Harry's enchantment from last week really dug into him.
"Hey, you're finally here!" he said upon seeing them. He came up to them and wrapped an arm around their waist, dragging them into a 'hug.' "Don't keep me waiting like this, sweetheart, I'm not the patient type. Here, let me introduce you to my mates."
If Harry was wearing their normal body and face, they'd be screaming Stranger Danger at the top of their lungs and kicking the guy's knees in. However, since this was not their base form, and they were actually pretty flexible with people manhandling them when they knew what to expect from those people, Harry allowed the arm around their waist. It wasn't their first time being shown around like a prize-winning racehorse, and they liked to think they were rather good at being an agreeable accessory should the situation call for it.
Blinking limpid blue eyes, Harry smiled and nodded as they were introduced to the four people the arsehole brought with them.
"This is Donny," — strong chin, blond hair, fairly tall — "Jeremy," — deep-set eyes, brown curls, stout — "Laurence," — shortest of the lot, freckly, gelled dark hair — "and," — here he gestured to a particularly dim-looking one reminiscent of Book!Goyle — "that's Todd." The entire lot looked like they'd never known lack at any point in their lives even once.
Harry canted their head.
"Hello, I'm," — they hesitated for just a split second — "V."
"Huh? 'V'?" said the Jeremy fellow. "Is that short for something?"
"Oh, yes," Harry laughed, thinking quickly. "Sort of a combination of things. People just call me V or Vivi 'cos my middle name starts with a 'v', and I also play the viola and violin."
"Oh, wow, you play those, too?" said Laurence, leaning in. He wasn't much taller than Harry, so Harry suspected he was enjoying being able to loom over someone. "Here, Jacob, you said she could sing like a dream, you didn't say she was multi-talented as well!"
Harry's douchebag — 'Jacob' apparently — puffed up all pleased and proud as if he was the reason Harry was thusly skilled.
"What do you expect?" he said in a snooty tone. "I know quality when I see it, of course!"
They bantered for a bit — if the bragging and lame ribbing they were doing could be called 'banter' — before that Jacob remembered he brought his little friends over for a purpose.
"Right — We're heading for a get-together at Jeremy's place this afternoon," Jacob told Harry, squeezing their hip. "It's his older brother's birthday party, and I figured you could come and perform for a bit."
Harry's resentment spiked hard.
"Oh, that sounds fun," they said lightly, not letting their irritation show. "But I'm meant to perform here today. You remember what I said about saving up —"
"Oh, come on, what's one day? It'll be fun, love, live a little."
"I really wish I could, but I really can't afford to, so —"
"Now, don't say that! You can't make much hanging here all day, most of these poor bastards don't drop more than a tenner, I've seen that myself. Chump change."
"You're right, of course, but still —"
"Honestly, Jake, you don't know how to talk to women at all," sighed the Jeremy bloke, the person whose place Jacob was trying to talk Harry into going to. "Right, so . . . she needs the cash, yeah? So, just give her the cash then! Cover the amount she usually makes, it's not like it's a big deal. How's that, gorgeous?" He directed the last part at Harry with a smirk. "We pay for your time, and you come pretty up the scenery at my place, yeah?"
"Hang on, how do we even know if she's even any good?" said Donny, looking mulish, hands shoved in his pockets. "Only Jake knows her, and she could screech like a chalkboard for all we know."
"She sings like an angel!" Jacob protested. "Are you daft? You think I'd be going on about her otherwise?"
"Anyone with eyes could see why you'd be on about her," Laurence piped in, eyeing Harry in a way that made them want to wrench his ears.
The idiots went back and forth like this for a bit, and Harry was seriously ready to enchant them to go drown themselves in the men's room urinals, but then Todd, who hadn't said a peep the entire time, suggested that they just watch Harry do a set to decide. Harry wasn't pleased that they had already summarily decided that Harry wanted to go with them when Harry hadn't actually agreed to anything, but if it would just get the dumbfucks to stop wasting Harry's time, then whatever.
Harry got their ukulele out of their bag and began strumming chords mindlessly while pacing idly in front of a ledged fountain. The sound caught the ears of passers-by and Harry smiled as eyes moved to them. When they had a handful of people as audience beyond the goons badgering them, they stepped up onto the ledge of the fountain and began the intro to Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics.
"Ugh, play a different one!" Donny hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth. "That one's lame as hell!"
Harry's fingers faltered, souring a note. Their smile became tight as some laughed and a couple of their audience wandered off.
Motherfucker.
"Oh?" they said lightly. "Any requests, then?"
"Yeah, something actually good," Donny snarked. Laurence and Todd snickered beside him.
Harry narrowed their eyes into merry crescents and began a new set of introductory chords, pushing some extra oomph immediately.
"Where have all the good men gone,/ and where are all the gods?/" Harry sang, casting the sound out over the boulevard. People lurched to a stop; heads turned. "Where's the streetwise Hercules/ to fight the rising odds?/ Isn't there a White Knight/ upon a fiery steed?/" — dazzled eyes led unthinking feet closer — "Late at night, I toss, and I turn,/ and I dream of what I need./"
Harry grinned a grin that was more a baring of teeth than a smile.
"I need a hero!/ I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night!/ He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,/ and he's gotta be fresh from the fight./ I need a hero!/ I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light —!/"
Not at all coincidentally, all five douchebags were hooked and snagged. They were reeled in like netted fish. They wandered closer to Harry as the rest of the stupefied crowd did, slack-jawed and enchanted. Harry didn't know it was to his credit or not, but the first arsehole, that Jacob bloke, still had the wherewithal to look smug at hell; he'd probably registered that his mates were positively enamoured by Harry.
Harry's tune lured in men specifically — well, men attracted to the stereotype of femininity that was a damsel in distress, and others who were similarly attracted — into a state of . . . one could say mild aggression. Harry obviously couldn't simulate the drum and bass line of the original song, nor could they do the harmonies of the choir part within a muggle setting, but with some finagling, they evoked the listeners to recall those missing parts as they carried on. This resulted in an objectively absurd scene of a crowd getting mad-hyped at a one-person ukulele performance.
There was some good new and bad news that came with this unquestionable success.
The good news was that Harry had gained themselves four more rich fuckboys willing and eager to pay for anything Harry wanted. Todd mutely bought them a to-go box of nice food from a nearby restaurant. Donny, the difficult one that enjoyed negging women, even offered to buy Harry a better instrument.
The bad news: Harry had to turn down the new instrument for obvious reasons (maybe later when they were set to leave for Hogwarts); Jeremy pushed a kiss on them that was only mildly tolerated because of the wad of cash he put in Harry's hands; and they were absolutely set on taking Harry to Jeremy's place for that birthday party.
All in all, definitely not the worst, but still not too great either.
Figuring they'd at least have access to free food, Harry allowed themselves to be carted away.
Harry wondered if it was a consequence of disrupting this world's canon of Harry Potter that improbable things that really had no business happening did happen. Did their altered output really affect the world around them that much? They could understand things and people being different after Harry interacted with them, but diverting from canon even without Harry directly coming into contact? How did that make sense?
They knew, of course, that instead of the Boy Who Lived as in the original, they were the One Who Lived, and that whatever folklore spread about them were no doubt accordingly re-gendered, but that, too, was an outcome that came about because of their direct involvement, even though unwittingly so. For things that didn't involve them to be altered, it just didn't make sense.
But, then again, they had yet to reach events of the main story. Perhaps these things occurring within the pre-Hogwarts years were merely a matter of 'it happened but it just didn't affect Harry's narrative'? Perhaps Harry as they were now were experiencing these non-canon interactions because they had put themselves in the characters' paths, not that the characters had changed their paths because Harry existed in their current iteration?
There was nothing in the books that said Kenneth Towler wasn't a halfblood that had grandparents in Little Whinging whom he visited during his summers. There was no proof that Canon!Harry wouldn't have met Kenneth if he'd been allowed to visit his local public library. So perhaps this was just Harry uncovering hidden lore by deviating from the canon they never knew?
Was that why Justin Finch-Fletchley was now in front of them?
Here's how it went down:
Harry had been brought over by their new band of enthralled idiots to the Jeremy goon's place, as expected. It was one of those fancy houses, in a 'posh' neighbourhood, and the interior was decorated accordingly. Swooping arches; tall windows with heavy curtains; lovely but bland landscape paintings; late eighteenth-century-style furniture mixed with the latest modern electronics. Everything was bright and shiny and expensive, like the Dursleys' home but times threes.
The party wasn't really on yet at the time, despite clusters of people already arrayed here and there. Harry had been toted around and introduced to whoever that had been already present; this involved the birthday boy — Jonathan, who was turning twenty — a third-born sister named Josephine, and a number of assorted friends of all three siblings. The mother of the family was also present — but she was in another room taking a call, so there were no introductions there.
Everyone was surprisingly tolerant of the strange 'girl' the prodigal second son and his friends had brought back with them, but maybe rich people were just like that — it didn't matter to them if they had to accommodate extra people because it certainly wasn't hurting their wallet any, and it wasn't like any of them would invite someone who didn't meet their standards into their home in the first place.
(Ugh, was Harry bitter? They were probably being a bit salty, but seriously, it was like those people just lived without a care for repercussions of any sort.)
Anyway.
Eventually, the party was on for real. More people showed up, nearly all of them toting gifts, and there must have been some signal that Harry was too lived-through-one-and-still-counting-lifetimes-without-attending-or-hosting-parties-of-any-sort to understand, because everyone was suddenly like . . . 'yes, party time!'? It was a bewildering time for Harry.
It turned out there was already live entertainment present — one of those garage bands like you see in cliché '90s movies. That wasn't to say they weren't good, though. They did a good job of keeping up decent background music if nothing else; Harry wasn't exactly familiar with too many of the songs they were covering.
While the band played, Harry was fawned over by her crowd of morons. The food was indeed good, and the drinks were various. As far as unwilling situations went, it wasn't the worst they'd been through.
When the band started looking tired, Harry went over and offered to replace them while they took a break. The members of the bands were a group of young men around the age of the birthday boy and looked to be even lower middle-class than Harry, so they probably were wary that Harry planned to usurp their gig, but it didn't take much to convince them that Harry had no such intentions and was just there as a backup.
It went without saying that Harry's performance went well. They stuck to strictly non-magical vocals so that they didn't cause a scene, but considering they were supposed to be a backing soundtrack to the event, Harry didn't consider that an adversity at all. It wasn't like they wanted anyone else there to be fascinated with them — they hardly wanted another annoying snob demanding their time.
It was when late afternoon came that they crossed paths with someone they didn't expect at all.
They'd been sent up to the upstairs loo since the ones on the ground floor were all occupied. There were party-goers milling around in various open rooms, but nowhere near as many as there were downstairs. Coming back out, they almost ran into someone.
That someone was a kid who looked around the same age Harry was in that current life. To be fair, though, Harry was really bad at identifying age because they had been enormously tall for their age as [REDACTED] as a little kid, and then literally unchanging in their appearance for decades after they turned twelve. The kid in front of them could be anywhere from seven to seventeen for all Harry could tell.
Still, they figured if they were pressed to guess, the kid was . . . in primary school?
"Oh, sorry," said Harry, lifting a hand in apology. "Should have been more careful."
The kid pouted at them.
"Why should I have been more careful?" he said resentfully. "You were the one coming out without a thought!"
Ah. So it was a brat.
Harry's eyebrows drew together.
"There's a misunderstanding here. I was referring to myself when I said that, not you. I should have spoken more clearly."
The boy flushed at the correction, but this was the hill he wanted to die on, apparently.
"Backtracking already, huh?" he scorned. "That scared of being called out for shifting blame?! Don't think I'll let you off for being so rude that easily!"
Harry looked at this snotty child in the middle of an intro to a Tumblr-worthy temper tantrum over nothing. Who raised this child? Why was he here? How did he come to be standing in front of a bathroom door, primed and ready to take offence over an innocuous miscommunicated statement?
Harry caught sight of Jeremy coming out from one of the populated rooms, meeting eyes with him. He brightened upon seeing Harry and made his way over.
"Vivi, darling! So you were over here!" Jeremy stepped up and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Thought you might have gotten lost — would be the first time someone has!" he laughed.
"Of course she's one of your friends," the little brat scoffed, crossing his arms.
It was then that Jeremy took notice of him. An annoyed scowl made its way onto Jeremy's face.
"Aren't you supposed to be in your room?" he said. "Thought mum said you were grounded until the party was over."
"Another brother?" asked Harry. Jeez, another sibling? This family was really on it about flooding the nation with entitled bitches.
"Oh, yeah. Justin's the baby of the family. You may have noticed that he acts like a baby as well."
"Oi, fuck off!"
Jeremy turned on his little brother in a fury.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley, have you lost your mind?!" he scolded. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you today? Where do you get off swearing like that in front of a guest? You can bet your bratty arse I'll tell mum!"
Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Harry was mute in shock.
What were the chances? How was this encounter even possible?
Harry looked over Justin as discreetly as they could as he was dressed down by his older brother. Harry didn't really remember much about what Justin Finch-Fletchley looked like beyond that his face was kind of rectangular and that he had unstyled brown hair. Lo and behold, the boy currently in front of them matched that description. What were the chances this was just a different kid named Justin Finch-Fletchley? Who just happened to look similarly as well?
He did have that annoying holier-than-thou attitude (that had been poorly hidden by a veneer of ingratiation when it came to 'high-status' people) as he had in both the books and films, though.
Harry remembered that they had hated the brat's guts for playing into the Harry-is-the-Heir-of-Slytherin rumours for clout even though Harry had actively saved his life, and even though he'd been trying to curry favour with Harry for weeks during Herbology before that.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was a toady little hanger-on that was always in it for his own gains, and they as [REDACTED] had written fanfiction involving him where he wasn't so bad, but meeting him themselves like this reminded them that, oh, yeah, he was a cowardly little clout-chaser that they'd disdained since their first childhood.
It was hard to hate him while his brother was taking him to task, though — even with how unreasonably argumentative he'd been with them.
"— think you can get away with being like that just because mum and dad baby you, you've got another think coming," Jeremy hissed. "Don't think I don't know that Laurence tripping over 'nothing' the other day was your fault — I'm not stupid, you know?"
Harry's ears pricked up.
Oh? Accidental magic? A fairly low-key example if it was, though. Hmm. Not that Harry knew what accidental magic for the average child was like, of course — it'd been implied that Canon!Harry demonstrated unusually strong bursts when it happened, and Harry as they were now weren't as emotionally immature as a normal child was, so they didn't have outbursts of that sort at all.
Judging by the suppressed look of frustrated misery on Justin's face, this sort of dressing down from Jeremy was something Justin had gone through numerous times. Harry could imagine how distressing it was to not know about magic and to go through instances where there were no scientific explanation of what was happening.
Ah, dammit, their compassion had been triggered. . . .
"Jeremy, I appreciate you being my Knight in Shining Armour, but do you mind going downstairs and getting me a plate?" Harry said sweetly, leaning into the body they were still being held to. "You lot really did a bang-up job of choosing the person who did the food."
Justin's brother was suitably distracted from his chewing out of Justin. He looked at Harry with adoring eyes.
"O-of course, love." Wow, 'love' already? "Anything you want in particular?"
"Oh, no, I trust your judgement. I know you have great taste, so you'll definitely pick out the best of the spread." Harry eased themselves out of Jeremy's grasp and smiled up at him. "I'll wait here for you so you won't be troubled trying to find me again."
"Of course, of course. I'll be right back!"
"Don't worry about that. Take as much time as you need. No doubt lots of people will want to talk to you — I don't mind waiting. I'll just take a seat in this room here." Harry pointed to an unoccupied open room on the opposite side of the hall from the loo.
Puffed up and pleased, Jeremy wandered off back down the stairs, his previous anger at his little brother completely forgotten.
Justin watched him go with an odd look on his face.
". . . how did you do that?" he said quietly.
Harry tilted their head.
"Do what?"
He looked at them with an intent expression.
"That —! You —! You made him leave!" he hissed. "Jeremy barely listens to dad, but you just did something with your voice and . . . you did something to him."
"Oh, you noticed that?" Harry said, eyebrows lifting. They crossed their arms. "I'm kind of impressed."
"How could I miss that?! Jeremy never does anything he doesn't want to!"
"Well, I can tell you now that he didn't not want to, or else it would have been a lot harder to get him to leave." They observed Justin's sputtering. "You know what that was?"
"If I knew, why would I be asking?" Justin shot back, wide-eyed. "Did you— did you hypnotise him or something?"
Harry considered their options. Well, he was going to find out eventually, and it wasn't like it was a bother to Harry, so. . . .
They carefully looked both ways down the hall to see if anyone was nearby. Seeing no one, they stepped backwards into the open room, what looked to be a small in-home theatre. They beckoned Justin to follow them.
Justin must have been too taken by his need for answers, because he didn't even hesitate to follow, closing the door behind him.
Looking at the small face of a boy they rather disliked and yet wanted to be kind to, Harry shifted the colour of their eyes very obviously, flashing through bright, impossible colours.
Justin gasped and pointed.
"What if I told you it's magic?" they asked, feeling a smirk forming on their lips. Their hair bled to black.
Justin looked like a breeze could knock him over.
Harry snickered and poked the boy on his pointy nose.
"What if I told you you're magic?"
"What?" he breathed.
"I bet strange things happen around you," said Harry, clasping their hands behind their back. "I bet things that don't make sense, that can't be explained, happen when you get worked up or excited — angry or scared. Things knocked off tables or walls? Toys you wanted but couldn't reach flying into your hands? Glass cracking? Jeremy mentioned his friend tripping over nothing . . . he upset you, didn't he?"
Justin stared at them, as pale as a ghost.
"It's perfectly normal for people like us," Harry said in an assuring tone. "Accidental magic is one of the defining benchmarks of childhood amongst wizards. Though it's confusing and can be scary when a magical child is born to unaware non-magical parents, of course."
"M-magic?" Justin stuttered. "But that's . . ."
Harry stepped back and sat down sideways in one of the cushioned chairs so that the two of them were more on an even level. They rested their arm on the back of the chair and rested their chin on their forearm. They regarded the boy calmly as their hair changed back to the red it was before and their eyes settled back into blue.
"I understand that it's rather overwhelming to be told this, but magic does indeed exist. And you are magical. I know you've likely been worried that there's something wrong with you, but let me assure you — there's nothing wrong with you. You're simply a wizard amongst Muggles — non-magical people, that is."
". . . how did you find me?" Justin asked warily.
Harry scoffed at the question. They kicked a leg idly.
"You ask that like I was looking for you! Get that thought out of your head right now — I came here because your brother's friend came across me busking in London and then convinced your brother to drag me over; I didn't even want to come. Ah, but free food is free food, and it isn't the worst way to spend a day. I didn't even know your brother Jeremy had any other siblings beyond your eldest until I got here.
"You should consider yourself lucky, you know. British kids from non-magical families don't usually get told about magic until they're eleven and get their school letters. That's when muggle-borns will get visits from professors to explain. You'd be in the dark for . . . what? Three more years? You're around eight, right? Nine?"
Justin was visibly overwhelmed and had to take a seat as well. Excitement, relief, and worry all played across his face.
"If I was meant to be told after primary school, are you allowed to be telling me?" he asked eventually. "You won't get in trouble?"
Harry was vaguely touched.
"No worries about that, mate. It's not illegal to inform unaware muggle-borns, it's just typically not done. It's not like a wizard is going to know a baby muggle-born on sight."
"Then how did you know I'm a muggle-born?" cried Justin. "For all you know, it could have just been a coincidence that stupid Laurence tripped onto his arse while I was around like Jeremy said!"
O-ho. Not as brainless as Harry would have expected from what they'd read and personally seen of him so far.
Hmm. . . . How did they want to play this? Dared they tell the truth?
No, no — the truth was far too much to be accepted even from a child still open to strange possibilities. It would be insanity to drop that on a little kid out of nowhere, and it was far too much about the universe in general for him to accept. It's not like they wanted to dump their life story on a random tertiary character either; they weren't exactly searching for a confidant any way.
Perhaps a modified truth? An abbreviated truth?
"I have some skill in knowing the unknown," said Harry, smiling mysteriously. "Amongst other things, Divination is something you can be taught. I'd like to think I'm rather good."
"You know the future?" Justin goggled.
"Divination is not so clean-cut as that," said Harry, flapping their hand. "But I don't want to get into that — we'd be here all night. Point is: I have my ways of knowing things not presently obvious. You being a muggle-born was just one of those things."
"How do I know you're not just having me on?" The question was mulish.
"You seem to think I'd care enough to bother lying to you." Harry sighed and slouched into their seat. "What would be the point of that? It's not like it matters to me if some random kid doesn't believe I can do what I say I can do — it doesn't change anything for me either way. You wanted an answer, so I gave it to you. What you want to do with that answer is your own business."
"You can't blame me for wanting proof!" Justin protested.
Harry gave him a look.
"Use that brain for some actual thinking. I come in here and literally start shape-shifting in front of you," — they stuck out their tongue that was then shaped like a snake's and blew a raspberry — "then I correctly suggested incidences that you experienced of unexplainable things happening around you. Why would I suddenly make up something untrue when the truth is already hard enough for you to believe? Even with the proof right in front of you? What would that gain me, hm? If I was going to lie and wanted it believed, I wouldn't go with 'I can divine the unknown.'"
". . . why are you telling me all this?" Justin crossed his arms. "You've made it perfectly clear you don't care about me."
"Why not?" Harry countered with a shrug. "A baby muggle-born is more interesting than what's going on downstairs. It's not like it'll do any harm to either of us. And I'm not one to let a person flounder when I won't lose anything by helping. Why shouldn't I tell you?"
"Just felt like it? What kind of reasoning is that?!"
"You underestimate whims. Chalk it up to sympathy or whatever — my mum's muggle-born, and I live amongst Muggles myself. I wouldn't wish the fearful uncertainty of not knowing on anyone.
"And maybe I wanted to make a friend." Harry didn't actually have any desire to make friends, but it wasn't like the option was off the table if Justin didn't annoy them too much. They had Kenneth already, and they certainly liked him a sight more than they did Justin at the moment, but someone who'd be in their own year at school wouldn't be bad either.
But such a suggestion was apparently the thing that Justin had the most trouble believing.
"No one Jeremy's age wants to be friends with a kid like me," he said, scowling. "Even Josephine says she's too old to play with me, and she's just fourteen."
Harry held back a laugh that would definitely have come out as a cackle. Getting rises out of this kid was surprisingly fun.
"You want to know another secret?" they asked in a stage-whisper. "It's a really good one, too."
Justin eyed them cautiously. Then he nodded.
Harry hopped to their feet and posed dramatically. Before his eyes, they began to shrink and shift. In less than ten seconds, they were in their base form again.
Giggling as they readjusted their newly baggy clothes, they blew another raspberry at Justin.
"Hello there," they said as Justin gaped. "I'm Harry Potter. And I'm a kid, too."
AN: Don't forget to go to my tumblr (High-Pot-In-Noose) and click on the "Update Schedule" link to find out the schedules for all four of my active fics and well as how to support me and get your hands on advanced chapter updates.
