Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.
Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who were once his best friends?
Author's note: Sorry this came out so late, I had some family mattes to attend to. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 14: Breakfast and a Purchase
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Harry woke up pleasantly, with the sun shinning on his face. The tree outside his window was dripping with water left over from the storm the night before. The smell of breakfast prompted him to get up. He put on the clothes he had on the night before, which were now miraculously clean.
"Good morning," said Harry cheerfully as he came downstairs.
"Finally! Good morning!" said Paul, "Ciara, dear, can we eat breakfast now?"
"You impatient old man!" cried Ciara from the kitchen, "Yes, of course we can eat now." She came out and turned to Harry. "Dear, you may sit here," she said, motioning towards a seat at the head of the breakfast table.
"And me?" asked Paul.
"You, my dear Mr. Westin, can sit here." She seated him down in the chair beside Harry, and patted her husband on the head.
"And, Mrs. Westin," said Paul in mock politeness, "When shall breakfast be ready?"
"As soon as you stop asking!"
Paul immediately sat still and stared down at his plate.
Ciara laughed. "Oh, don't you worry, Harry dear, Paul always gets fidgety before breakfast. He's always hungry." Ciara smiled and went back into the kitchen humming.
Paul was still staring at his plate.
Harry wondered how Ciara knew his name, as she had never asked it, and Harry had never volunteered it. Oh well, Harry thought, mentally shrugging his shoulders, She's treating me no different, it seems, and she's asking no questions.
Ciara came back out carrying a plate full of scones and three glasses of orange juice. She set the scones and glasses of juice on the table and then hurried back into the kitchen. She came back out with a plate of eggs and a plate of sausage.
"Now," she said after sitting down in her chair, "We may eat."
Paul smiled and immediately started piling food on his plate. Harry, who was just as hungry, waited until Paul was done. Ciara observed her husband's actions with a kind of horror. Paul looked up a smiled guiltily at his wife.
"Paul!" scolded Ciara, "I'm ashamed of you. We have a guest, you know."
"Sorry," answered Paul.
Addressing Harry, she said, "I apologize for my husband's behavior. We haven't had a guest around here for quite some time, and it seems as if he has quite forgotten his manners."
"That's all right, Mrs. Westin," said Harry, "I don't mind."
"Well, have some eggs and sausage, anyway. Or what's left of them," Ciara said, glaring at Paul.
Harry took Ciara's advice and heaped eggs and sausage and scones on his plate. To him, it seemed to be the best breakfast he ever had.
When breakfast was over and the dishes had been cleared away, Ciara led Harry into the living room where she and Paul sat down in seats facing Harry, who was sitting on a couch.
"Now," addressed Ciara to Harry, "Down to business. As I understand, you are here to purchase some of our magic suppressant pills, correct?"
"Yes," answered Harry.
"Good. I will just give you a quick outline of the whole process and what you can expect, as well as the pros and cons to these pills. First, after taking various measurements, my husband and I will make the pills tailored specifically to you."
"Oh? There not just the same pill for everybody?"
"No, heaven's no! Everybody has different magic levels and different needs. The pills are made from a brew devised by Paul and me. It takes about two days, so you will have to stay with us until the pills are finished. The pills should reduce all magic in you, but be warned: it will not remove your magic ability; for that is impossible. It will only make your magic unusable, and therefore undetectable. The pills can help anyone escape detection or become a non-magical person. But, they should not be relied upon because intense anger can over power their use. One pill should last about 24 hours for a typical B level ability, and 18 hours for a C level ability. Also, once you buy the pills, you are set for life. The pill jar will keep refilling itself so you won't have to come back here to buy more."
"Are there any other places that sell pills like these?"
"I once met a woman who knew of a place like this down in Australia, but that was long ago. I don't think you have much to fear of anyone finding out. We keep our dealings very secret."
"And if I start taking these pills, will there ever be a day where I will become immune to them?"
"We've been making these pills for a long time, and the issue has never come up. And we've discovered through people who stop using the pills to return to their former selves that the pills don't make a lasting dent on your magic. You will still be the same level ability one you stop as you were when you started."
"Sounds flawless...are their any downsides?"
Paul spoke up. "Only a few. Over time, a person's magic may -- and notice I say may, as this is not true in all cases -- become out of hand, and the person will have to keep a closer watch on his pill schedule. For example, when starting out, a person must take a pill every 18 hours, and if they skip a few hours in between, it doesn't matter. But, a year or two later, if they skip those few hours, their magic will over power them and take control. That is one of the more common downsides. Another one is increased temper, mood swings, and/or anxiety."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"Well, there is one more, but this has only happened a few times. Out of the seventy or so clients we've had over the years, this has only happened in a noticeable way to ten of the clients. It is this: Some people have become dependant on the pills. They are addicted. They take them constantly, and the person soon become out of control."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they became a danger to themselves and other people."
"And what happened to them?"
"Um, well, four of them ended up in an insanity ward, and the other six, well, they died," ended Paul sadly.
Ciara sniffled and wiped her eyes
"But that isn't a very common side effect, is it?" asked Harry warily.
"No," answered Paul slowly, "But a risk all the same. We are obligated to warn you."
Harry thought about the wizarding world. I can't face that. I won't face that. Harry thought about being in an insanity ward. He thought about death. Those two seemed to be better options that facing the horror that he had seen just three months ago. Though Harry had thought of suicide earlier on, he had decided that death was not the answer; he really did want to make a new and better life for himself.
"Yes, I'll do it. I would like to purchase the pills."
"That's wonderful," said Ciara, wiping her eyes one last time and giving a smile, "I just know they'll work out for you. You'll be on your way to a better life! Now, let me just take some measurements."
Paul went into another room to start gathering the main ingredients while Ciara bustled about gathering measuring tape and other appliances. She wrote down Harry's height, his weight, bone density, body mass index, average food intake (it wasn't that much), and shoe size.
Then she pulled out a big black...thing...that looked like a remote control to a very big toy car.
"Now hold still, Harry dear," she said, putting a hand on Harry's forehead. "This is an Ability Tester and it will measure your magic ability very accurately. But you must keep still."
Harry held his breath while Ciara moved the Ability Tester around Harry's person.
"Well," she said, when she had finished and was writing down the measurements on paper. "Well, well, well. It seems, Harry, that you have quite an ability. Are you aware of your magic level?"
Harry turned bright red and mumbled something indecipherable, but which Ciara took as a "no."
"You are," she continued, "An E magic level."
Harry looked up. "I think you are wrong, Mrs. Westin. That's impossible. There hasn't been a person with that kind of ability for centuries..."
"Yes, not since Athena Cordeilia, the Princess of Delos, whose magic proved to be too much for the girl and killed her at the age of fifteen. That was in 1734. And before that it was the founders, and then Merlin."
"I'm sure a mistake was made. I must have moved or something. Why don't you take a new measurement?"
"Harry," answered Ciara patiently, "Think about it. Doesn't it make sense that you could be an E level?"
Harry remembered the power he felt when he had broken loose from Voldemort's trap. How the magic had coursed through his veins and flowed out through his very fingertips. And how Harry could not control it. It did make some sense, but why hadn't Dumbledore told him? An E level wizard could take out whole armies within an hour. And it takes great power to hurt or kill by magical means an E level wizard. Harry would have been very useful to the war against Voldemort.
But then Harry remembered that he was used and put in danger throughout much of his life. Like in his first year, when he had faced Voldemort. How could Dumbledore not realize who Professor Quirrel was hiding? Leaving a boy of eleven to face a madman who had killed thousands? It did make sense. Dumbledore had to have known. But what enraged Harry was that nobody had informed him of his power.
"How come I didn't know?" asked Harry sadly.
"Oh, sweetie, it's hard, I know. You couldn't be told. Would you have believed it? If you someone told you before you had reached your level, you would have never found your total strength. You had to find it on your own."
Silence.
"Well then, what does it mean?" said Harry finally
"Only that it's understandable why you want to escape it."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You see," Ciara went on in explanation, "The more power you have, the more you feel the strain of it on your body. And especially after what you've gone through, it's easy to see that the painful memories mixed with the amount of effort it takes to restrain that power from getting out of control would make anybody want to leave it all behind."
"So you won't stop me from buying the pills?"
"No, I couldn't do that to you."
"Thank you."
"But there will be a few problems."
"Oh?"
"For one, the pills won't work so well. You'll need to take at least two at a time for it to last six or so hours. But," she continued before Harry could get a word in, "I'll offer an extra feature to make up for the pills." Ciara pointed to Harry's scar. "I know that scar is famous throughout the world, and I know you won't get far if people can still see it. Therefore, I will put a substance in the pills that will keep your hair covering your scar. Only force could move your hair aside so that one may see the scar. Otherwise, there will always be a conveniently placed lock of hair covering that area as long as you take the pills.'
"Thank you," said Harry graciously, as he had not thought about the trouble his scar could cause. "Thank you very much."
"My pleasure. Now, I'm just going to get started on the potion. You may stay here and read the paper, or choose a book from our shelves. Just remember to stay inside the house. The walls conceal any magical ability from the ministry, and I don't want them knocking on my door."
Just then, in an ironic twist of fate, there was a knock on the door.
Ciara walked slowly to the door and looked through the peephole. She motioned Harry to hide, and once he had done so, smoothed her hair and opened the door.
"May I help you?" she asked kindly to the two ministry officials on her doorstep.
"Uh, yes. We've been talking to several of the villagers around here and they say that they saw a man walking around here last night. We were wondering if you happened to notice that man. About this tall," the official marked the height with his hand, "With black hair and glasses. You might have noticed a peculiar scar on his forehead...?"
"Why, yes," answered Ciara. "I did see a man with that exact description. I had invited him in. We talked a bit, had some tea, and then he left."
"Did he say where he was going to next?"
"Let me think..." Ciara put on a show of trying to remember. "Aha!" She said suddenly, scaring the officials, "I remember! He said something about going back to London. To his old house, or school, or something."
The ministry officials nodded, writing all the information down.
"Thank you for your time, ma'm," the first one said.
"Um, may I ask what this is all about?"
"Just a...a missing person. We're part of...Scotland Yard."
"Oh," said Ciara, pretending to be concerned, "Will everything be all right?"
"Yes, ma'm, everyone is on the search. We'll find him soon. We are all very worried about him."
"Well, good luck, I hope you find him in London."
"Thank you, ma'm. Your time has been very valuable."
"Have a good day." Ciara closed the door and smiled.
Harry came out from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, dear. Apparently they've got the whole world looking for you." She laughed a bit. "I just love fiddling with their minds. They think I'm a non-magical person. Now everyone is going to be looking all throughout London for you!" She laughed some more.
Harry didn't see the humor in it.
"Well," said Ciara, who stopped laughing abruptly when she saw that Harry didn't find it as amusing as she did, "I'll just start on the pills, then."
Harry spent the next to days lounging around the Westin's house. Ciara and Paul were having quite some time making the pills strong enough for Harry. But eventually the magic suppressant pills were ready, which marked Harry's last day with the Westin's.
It was around noon when Ciara announced that Harry could be on his way.
"Excuse me?" asked Harry.
"The pills are ready, dear," said Ciara with patience. "You can go, now."
Paul came out of the room where the pills had been made and handed Harry a blue bottle with medium grey pills inside. "Ciara will tell you the price," he told Harry.
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot..." Ciara hurried back inside the room to collect the amount of each ingredient used to figure out the cost.
Paul leaned towards Harry. "I put an anti-break spell on the jar," he whispered, "Along with a tracking spell that will always keep the jar by your side. And both spells cannot be detected by the ministry unless closely studied. But don't tell Ciara about the 'extra features'; she doesn't know and would probably charge you for it."
"Thank you," whispered Harry back to Paul, just as Ciara walked into the room.
"Well my dear," she said, "The total price for the pills including the extra scar-hiding bit, is 1500 galleons."
Harry widened his eyes. That was a very large amount. But, since the pills would last him for life...
Harry found his backpack, took out 100 pounds for himself, and gave the backpack to Ciara. "I think there is enough money in there. The backpack is larger inside than it is outside, and it also has a charm to make it less heavy. Unfortunately, there is also muggle money in there, but it's all I have."
"Don't worry, dear," said Ciara kindly, "It's just fine. The price of freedom does not come cheaply, I know."
She handed the pills to Harry.
"Now, as a few words of warning," said Paul, "You must remember that repressed magic can do strange things, especially with your level of ability, so make sure to always have your pills with you," Paul winked at Harry, "And, if you ever stop taking the pills, be very careful for the first few days."
"You should take your first pill in here," advised Ciara, "And then I'll apparate with you to where ever you wish. It will take about an hour for the pills to first take effect, so be careful. Are you ready?" Ciara handed Harry a glass of water.
Harry took a deep breath. He was going through with his plan. And hopefully, unlike all his other plans which always seemed to go haywire at one point or another, this one would work, and Harry could live the rest of his life in peace.
My last moment as a wizard, thought Harry. This thought made something sink inside him. His throat got blocked up. Harry didn't know whether to be happy that he was going to be a normal person, or whether to be unhappy that he was leaving such an extraordinary world behind.
And such extraordinary friends, too. Harry thought about Ron and Hermione. He couldn't face them. Harry knew he was taking the cowardly way out, but there was just too much to explain, and if he did somehow explain it all, the entire wizarding world would blame him for the deaths of hundreds of people.
Harry wanted to be normal, to have a peaceful life, and not have to worry about his friends' safety, or other dangers threatening to take over the world.
Harry took a pill out of the bottle. It looked at it. Such a small pill holds happiness for me, Harry thought. He put the pill in his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.
Though Harry knew that the pill wouldn't be totally working until an hour or so later, he could still feel something inside of him happening at that moment. It was if all his muscles were relaxing. He felt like he had been holding his breath for years and years, and now could finally breathe.
Harry realized that he did not have to be a wizard any longer. He could be normal. He could finally be happy.
"So," said Ciara, "Where do you want to go?"
Harry gave no thought to the question. He said the first place that he thought of that was not in Europe. "Canada."
"Well then, Canada it is. Any particular city?"
"Toronto?"
"Of course, dear."
Harry said his goodbyes to Ciara and Paul. The Westin's wrote down their address so that Harry could write to them when he got settled. Apparently, they kept in touch with most of their clients.
Ciara took Harry's hand and apparated away. To Canada. To Harry's future and his happiness.
----(end flashback)----
James sat on his couch, lost in thought.
He still wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Westin. Every other month, or so. He should probably write to them about what happened, about seeing his friends. They would probably have some good advice.
James looked at his watch. It was time to go to work. The last day of school was always more of a party day than anything, so James decided to write the letter to the Westin's during lunch and any other chance he got during school.
He got up from the couch. Remembering his thoughts from earlier that morning, James resolved write his letter, receive some advice, and then forget about the whole ordeal.
James would not dwell on his past. He would move on with his life.
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A GIANT thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed chapter 13 (I love reading what you guys and gals have to say):
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Love to all,
Adah