Harry Potter and the Physical Adept
Chapter 4: Papers, Please
"Please stand over here, in front of the screen, look downwards slightly, and don't smile," said Jason, Polaroid camera in hand, and the daywalker did as instructed, letting the shopkeeper take her photograph.
"Can you explain it to me again like I'm five?" asked the redhead.
"A friend in the State Department who owes me a favor agreed to fast track your passport and ship it here," said the man, as he waved the photograph through the air. "A bloke I know in the Home Office has agreed to get a visitor visa for you in exchange for me doing him a small favor."
"I don't want to impose…," Patience started, but was stopped by Jason, who held up a hand.
"You're in a new country that you entered illegally, and you're Kindred," said the shopkeep. "Let's just say you owe me a large favor I'll collect at a later date, and we'll call it even."
"I won't do anything immoral," warned the redhead.
"That's fine."
"I really don't know how to thank you."
"Don't get in trouble with the law," warned the shopkeep. "With your visitor visa, you'll get deported if you do."
"Understood."
"Where are you staying? Jason asked.
"Right now, she's staying at The Footman," Harry said. "But with a tourist visa, she's not going to be able to take on work, so she's going to need to find a free place to stay or find a job that pays under the table."
"Shaun's company is always hiring," the shopkeep pointed out.
"Shaun?" asked the daywalker.
"A mutual friend; I believe he said he'd be on that construction site on Linkfield Corner today."
"Good to know," Harry said. "We'll go there and talk to Shaun."
~ooOoo~
"You're a what now?"
The expression on the construction foreman's face was one of confusion.
"Kindred," the daywalker repeated.
"I don't know what that means," Shaun said.
"Cainite," reiterated the redhead.
The construction foreman's confused expression did not change.
"She means she's a friend of the Count who was slain by Van Helsing," Harry interjected.
"What?," said man, before starting. "Oh!"
"Yeah," said the boy with a wry smile.
"It never gets dull with you around," Shaun said, before turning back towards the daywalker. "What did you say your name was?"
"Patience Madison," said the redhead.
"Do you have any experience in construction, Madison?" asked the foreman.
"None at all."
"I assume you can lift heavy weights?"
"I bench pressed four hundred pounds earlier today," said the vampire.
The man looked to the boy and the dragon, who both nodded to confirm her story.
"In that case, I can offer you a position as a construction laborer," said Shaun. "It'll pay five pounds an hour during your trial period, after which you'll receive a wage increase of twenty-five pence…"
"I'm here on a tourist visa, so I can't legally work," Patience interjected. "How does that change things?"
"In that case, we can employ you under the table for three pounds fifty an hour during your trial period, and four pounds an hour after that."
"I guess that'll have to do."
"This company pays out weekly, on Fridays, and if you need to find a place to stay, I know a place that's renting out rooms."
"Is it one of Harry's rental properties?" Patience asked.
"You're clever," remarked the man, giving the boy a smile of approval. "It's basically Harry's."
Seeing the concerned look on the woman's face, Shaun added, "Don't worry, I'm the property manager, and you'll certainly be getting the friends and family discount."
"You might want to give her a discount for providing additional security, too," Harry suggested. "There's very few in the world who could outmatch her physically."
"I'll take the job," Patience said, shaking Shaun's hand. "I'll need to see the room before I decide."
"Glad to have you on board," said the foreman. "Now if you'll excuse me, my lunch break ends in five minutes, so I'll be seeing you then, Madison."
~ooOoo~
Harry looked through the folder of official documents and paperwork he had been given by Jason at the beginning of June; with the tripped already planned when he had received it and his being busy everyday in Las Vegas, the Hermetic mage had not had the opportunity to really read through them as carefully as he had wanted to, though now that he had, he could not help but admire just how thorough the shopkeeper had been.
Not only had Jason acquired a passport for him for use during international travel, but he had also gotten the boy legally emancipated, with the papers to prove it, something that would be absolutely impossible through legal channels for Harry as far as the boy knew, as he was not over the age of fourteen and could not prove his financial independence and ability to live on his own, not to mention the impossibility of demonstrating that his current living situation was not in his overall best interests, given the Dursleys were no longer in country if hearsay was to be believed, and that all ignored the fact emancipation normally only applied to minors whose natural parents were still alive.
Also included in the folder were a birth certificate with his name on it, even though all of the information on it was almost certainly fabricated from fiction, a plastic numbercard for his National Insurance number, an identification card with a photograph of him on it, and documents showing his adoption of Olivia Baldursdóttir, again something that would be illegal under normal circumstances, since he himself was a minor, and yet, he had papers to show it was the case.
Harry briefly wondered what Jason had done to get those papers, but decided it wasn't an answer he had a burning desire to discover for himself.
Liv had received a similar package of documents, though both her passport and birth certificate used the name "Olivia Baldursdóttir" and were Norwegian in origin; her adoption by Harry, however, made her a citizen of the United Kingdom, and thus she also had a British passport and a numbercard for her National Insurance number.
It had taken some explaining before Liv came to understand her human cover identity as well as the implications of each document; when she had asked about the bureaucracy involved, Jason had chuckled and launched into a story about paperwork and government employees, until both the boy and the dragon eventually gave up on getting a straight answer.
So, with paperwork and documents in hand, Harry had come with Liv to the Ministry of Magic; the experience of entering the structure through a telephone box on a derelict street had been something Harry thought unbecoming and unprofessional of a government agency.
That did not, however, affect their main goals for the day, to get Liv registered for Hogwarts under her human cover identity; now that she was more comfortable in her human form, Harry thought it best for the dragon to gain wider exposure towards school children so that she could better appreciate humanity through its purer form as well as be exposed to a wider variety of magic beyond what he himself could cast.
"I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but I simply do not believe you," said the magistrate, a stuffy-looking middle-aged man stuffed into a robe that looked two sizes too small for his hefty frame.
"I have the paperwork right here," said the boy, as he carefully laid several sheafs of paper on the desk between himself and the bureaucrat.
The man shuffled through the documents momentarily, but dismissive look on his face melted into one of confusion and surprise before he looked back up at the boy and the accompanying dragon-in-girl's-form.
"This is impossible!" the bureaucrat sputtered.
"As you can see, these documents say otherwise," said the boy, gesturing to the papers on the desk.
"But these are only muggle documents," said the magistrate.
"Is there other paperwork legally proving my existence?" Harry asked. When the man shook his head weakly in negatory, the boy smiled tightly. "Well, as a subject of the British Crown, these documents are legally binding; seeing as no papers of adoption were ever filed following the death of my parents when I was foisted off onto relatives, this document of emancipation simply makes my legal independence cut and dry."
"But you're only twelve," protested the bulky man at the desk. "You need to be at least fourteen to be emancipated."
"Paperwork says otherwise," said the boy. "You can call me a special case; aside from my age, I'm independently wealthy, I've been cooking and doing the housework for my relatives since they could make me, and since they abused me emotionally and physically for as long as I could remember, the Crown thought it best I be allowed to go my own way, rather than try to place me with another foster family."
The bureaucrat swallowed visibly, attempting to digest this information. Looking at Liv, he said, "Still, I cannot believe they would allow you to adopt a child."
"As an emancipated minor, I have the same rights (and responsibilities) as an adult," Harry said. "As for the adoption, it was facilitated through an agency after I met Liv and she told me her guardian was letting people touch her without her permission; after my experiences with abuse, you can understand why I couldn't just let it go."
"Yes, I understand," the magistrate sputtered. "But why are you here?"
"This is the Ministry of Education, is it not?"
"Yes…"
"I'd like to register my daughter for Hogwarts so she can attend come September."
"She could be a muggle!" protested the magistrate.
As if on cue, Liv raised a hand, a small ball of fire floating an inch off her palm, rotating slowly as thin wisps of smoke rose from the dancing flames.
"You were saying?" Harry said, cocking his head to the side.
The magistrate started to protest, but Harry fixed him with a hard glare and he barely managed to stammer out an apology before proceeding to get the boy the forms necessary to register a recently-immigrated magical child for attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It took Harry and Liv nearly ten minutes to fill out the forms and another fifteen to triple check it for mistakes and possible legal loopholes and general chicanery; only after the two were satisfied did they submit the paperwork, and by the hour's end, Liv had her admission letter and a list of supplies she would need, which perfectly mirrored the list Harry had received by post the previous year.
~ooOoo~
When she had first received the anonymous invitation through her editors at The Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter had been suspicious; after all, why would a source want to meet her specifically, and in a cafe in the muggle world, no less?
Nonetheless, she could not deny her curiosity was piqued and so when the day of the meeting arrived, she arrived at the meeting site a good thirty minutes early, hoping to spot her mysterious source when they arrived, but instead, she was waved over to a booth in the back corner occupied by two small children as soon as she walked through the door.
"Please, sit," said the boy in the hooded cardigan, gesturing to the available seat opposite himself and the girl in the floral sundress. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Darjeeling, please," said the witch to the waiter who had taken her to the table as she sat down. "I'm sorry, I haven't had the pleasure," she remarked, turning towards the boy and the girl.
"Harry Potter," the boy said, lips twisting into a ghost of a smile. "This is Olivia Baldursdóttir."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter," said Rita, the gears in her mind already turning. "But I'm afraid I don't understand why you'd request a meeting with me, and anonymously, at that; certainly a celebrity such as yourself would only need to mention your name to schedule a meeting with anybody."
"Let's cut to the quick," said the boy flatly, the smile fading from his lips, and more importantly, from his eyes. "I've read quite a bit of your work; in fact, I read quite a bit of every one of the dozen or so journos employed at the Prophet. At best, you're a sensationalist, and at worse, you're a fabulist."
Rita felt her cheeks flush in anger, as she rose. "I didn't come here to be insulted," she huffed.
"I'm not insulting you, I'm simply stating facts," said the boy calmly. "Is it not true you sometimes use fabricated information in your reporting?"
The round-faced blonde glared at the Boy-Who-Lived, but slowly sat back down. "I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation," she said after taking a moment to consider her words.
"That's fair," said the boy, with a shrug. "Would it be accurate to say, at the end of the day, 'anything for a headline' would best describe why you write the way you do?"
"What's wrong with that?" Rita demanded defensively.
"Nothing," the boy said. "I just wanted to make sure I read you right."
"So, let's say you did," said the reporter. "What's it to you?"
"You don't need to be so defensive," the boy said. "I want us to be friends."
"You want to be friends? After calling me a liar?"
"Are you not a basically liar?"
Rita started to retort, but found she didn't have one.
"Yeah, I thought so," said the boy. "Listen, I don't care that you falsify information when you're writing your articles; if anything, I like that you're flexible with the truth. It's a good thing."
"That's a very… enlightened way to see it," Rita said, surprised at the boy's open-mindedness. "What did you mean when you said you wanted us to be friends?"
"I'd like to offer you a chance to tell the world the story of my life so far," said the boy. "If that goes well, you'd be the only one I'd trust to continue to tell my story."
"And what's in it for you?" asked the blonde witch suspiciously.
"I'd like it if you didn't turn your pen against me, my friends or my allies," said the boy. "I've read your work, and when you bury somebody, you make sure they're never getting out of the hole you dig for them."
"You're offering me the exclusive rights to be the chronicler of your life, and in exchange, I don't write anything nasty about you?" Rita reiterated, wanting to make sure she understood the offer clearly and without misinterpretation.
"I may also want you to write unfavorable articles from time to time."
The reporter carefully considered the proposition the boy was making; the chance to be the exclusive reporter telling the story of a celebrity of the Boy-Who-Lived's stature with his official endorsement would give her instant credibility even her most vocal critics could not deny, and his moral flexibility had already piqued her interest, while she could not see any downside in agreeing to never write a hit piece against someone who would essentially be her benefactor for years to come, and if occasionally writing a hatchet job against targets of his choosing was the price, the arrangement was still seemed favorable to her. Nonetheless, if he was approaching her with the proposal, maybe she could get something more out of it.
"Is there anything else you can give me?" Rita asked.
"I'd be more than happy to provide you with insider information straight from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if this relationship goes well," said the boy, with a smile. "For example, did you know that Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, did not spend a single lesson teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"I did not," Rita admitted, extending a hand. "You've got yourself a deal."
"I'd like to make it a blood oath, if you don't mind," Harry said.
"Is that like an Unbreakable Vow?" the witch asked, more than a little worried.
"I don't know what that is, but I don't believe so," said the boy, taking out a switchblade knife and cutting across the palm of his hand before gesturing towards Rita's outstretched hand. "It's just something normal people do to show they mean to stay true to their word. May I?"
Swallowing, Rita nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain as she felt the knife drag across her open hand, cutting skin and flesh and drawing blood.
As they clasped hands, the boy said, "I swear you, Rita Skeeter, will be the sole exclusive reporter who I will endorse as the authorized chronicler of my life story, and I will provide you with insider information regarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"I swear I will not write unfavorably about you, Harry Potter, or people you tell me are your friends or allies, and I'll sometimes write unfavorable articles targeting those you ask me to," Rita said, and as she did so, she felt magic flow through her.
Before the handshake ended, the girl Rita had forgotten was sitting next to Harry lightly placed her hands over the clasped hands, and the reporter felt the pain in her hand melt away, replaced with a comforting warmth; as their hands parted, she looked at her palm and saw the cut had vanished, like it had never even been there.
"How did she do that?" Rita asked. "And who is she?"
"Rita, this is my daughter, Olivia Baldursdóttir," Harry said, and the girl nodded, smiling tightly.
"A daughter?" Rita asked, her curiosity once again piqued. "There must be a story there."
"Oh, there is," Harry said, smiling roguishly. "Aren't glad you've got the exclusive scoop."
"So, how will this work?" asked the reporter.
"We'll talk, we'll decide on a narrative we want for the story, and when you write the article, you can make up any details to fill in the spaces as long as it doesn't change the narrative.
"So, shall we begin?"
Author's Notes: Welcome to favor bank, the main source of Jason's power.
I kind of imagine Shaun being the guy who shouts "NERD!" in Homer's voice when it comes to certain RPGs, hence his confusion about VtM jargon.
There's a bit of hand-waving when it comes to the documentation aspect of Harry's existence. From my research, I know that in the U.K., getting legally emancipated as a minor is extremely difficult, requiring the minor be over fourteen, be financially independent, be capable of living on their own, and it be not in their general best interest to continue living in their current environment. Unfortunately, Harry already fails on the first count despite passing the following three, assuming the Dursleys are considered his current environment, but I wanted to use the amount of paperwork Jason got done for Harry as a means to demonstrate just how far his reach goes.
Yes, getting an international adoption that fast is very, very difficult, unless you're super rich and know what palms to grease. Also, as an emancipated minor, Harry would have all the rights of an adult, including adoption, but as a minor, that'd be difficulty, unless you're super rich and know what palms to grease. Or just have Jason Bourne at your back.
Since Harry was born while is parents were in hiding, I figured it'd make sense they wouldn't have filed paperwork with the magical authorities. I mean, how much would it have sucked if it turned out that the reason they were found, after all, was red tape and not Rat's betrayal.
I know that, in the original book series, Rita Skeeter turns into a thorn in Harry's side, but for shadowrunner/cyberpunk Harry, having somebody in the media makes complete sense, given the way corps and the wealthy have always used the media to manipulate and control narratives in cyberpunk fiction and games. Thus, it makes sense to me that Harry would want a journo in his pocket, and who better than one who is as ethically flexible as he is.
My eternal gratitude to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant. They put up with so much of my crap, and I want to thank them for all they do for me. As for the rest of you, having read all this, feel free to review or PM me about the story.