Chapter 3: A New Image
Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron when the storm had already begun. Some people were sitting in clusters around the tables. Tom the innkeeper was behind the bar, wiping glasses and looking at Harry with a kindly and inviting expression. Harry just stared blankly for a moment before heading for the opposite door leading to muggle London. Tom's expression changed to disappointment watching Harry's retreating back. Harry pulled open the huge door inwards and tried to step out. His attempt was however doomed. A torrent of wind and rain blew his slight frame back into the inn despite his best efforts. Harry closed the door with difficulty to give himself a moment to breathe. He had wanted to go to the nearby muggle hotel, the one he'd stayed in when his first trial was going on. Now it seemed he would have to cancel that plan altogether or wait for the storm to blow over which could take anywhere from a couple of hours to a whole day's time.
Harry was deeply reluctant to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't want anyone trying to approach him or speak to him. He knew that seeing some wizards would be unavoidable but he deserved to have a little time to himself first. And his pride made him want to brave the storm rather than ask Tom for a room for the night. However common sense told him there was nothing to be gained of defeating Voldemort if he was going to go and die of pneumonia. Hesitantly, he turned around and approached Tom whose eyes had lit up eagerly even if Harry didn't notice. Harry stood at the bar his hand tracing the surface as he tried to swallow his pride and work up the courage to ask Tom.
"Can I, can I.......I mean, are there any single rooms available tonight" Harry questioned.
"Yes, of course Mr. Potter. I presume you would like a single room for the night? I have just the room. If you would follow me..." Tom the innkeeper turned to the keys hanging on the wall behind the bar and selected one to avoid sounding too enthusiastic. Harry was glad he had put his ill feelings aside as he followed Tom up the stairs. He was led to a cozy little room with a view of Diagon Alley and a four-poster bed. In fact it was the same room he had stayed in before his Third Year.
After seeing that he didn't need anything else, Tom closed the door and headed back downstairs. He was ecstatic that Harry had decided to stay. God was on his side for Harry surely would have left if it wasn't for the storm. He knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven so easily. He remembered when Harry had come to him during his trial a year ago to ask for a room and he had snubbed him off, lying that all the rooms were full. He was extremely thankful that he hadn't given in to his emotions to insult and hurt Harry then. He owed it to a muggle he had once met who gave him invaluable advice. He had said 'Never let your personal emotions make your business decisions'. He had tried to follow that advice as best as he could. Tom went back to his work with his conscience just a bit clearer than earlier.
Harry had taken a hot shower before putting on his ragged clothes back on. It was too bad that he didn't have any other clothes and going to the closest muggle supermarket was impossible in the storm. He was further dismayed that the little sharp piece of something sticking in his back was still unreachable and the wound wouldn't stop bleeding. He was also very hungry by now but he couldn't bring himself to go down and try to get something to eat. When he had been sent to Azkaban and left there to rot he had made a vow to himself to become as independent as possible. He had always had a problem with asking others for anything. His snarky relatives and friendless childhood had made him become self-sufficient. But Hogwarts and his friendships there had taught him to ask for help when he really needed it. And that lesson was the one that caused him to suffer the greatest humiliations in his short life.
There was a part of him that was angry at his decision to stay tonight. That part would gladly prefer to sleep even on the park-bench where he had slept that night long ago when Tom turned him down. Having got nothing from Diagon Alley and being told abruptly that the Leaky Cauldron was full, he had wandered into muggle London. Never having been in the city before except for Diagon Alley, he knew no place to go. He had wandered trying to find a hotel but it was late and he couldn't find any place to stay. Feeling tired, he had sat down on a bench in one of the parks and fell asleep there. He had managed to find a hotel close to Diagon Alley the next day and stayed there for the duration of his trial. He had used pen and paper instead of quill and parchment but the lack of knowledge on Wizarding laws cost him. Not having anyone on his side and being unfamiliar with the system, he couldn't defend himself against the accusations of the death-eaters who worked for the ministry. That had finished off his trial faster and he had been unable to change the ruling.
Harry tried again to reach his back and attempt to stop the bleeding, but he couldn't do anything except cause more pain and make his little wound bleed even more. He gave up and approached the bed when he realized that his bleeding back would most certainly stain the white bed sheets. He had no idea what to expect from Tom in the morning if that happened. Well, he'd slept on hard stone and empty stomachs for over a year. Surely another night wouldn't kill him. So he settled on the corner under the window which wasn't covered by the carpet and pulling his coat over like a blanket, he tried to get some sleep.
Tom had served dinner for all his customers and cleared up most of the tables and Harry still hadn't come down for his dinner. Tom thought that Harry probably wanted to avoid the stares he was bound to get if he came downstairs. With that thought, he prepared a tray with a huge dinner and took it upstairs. When he knocked softly on the door there was no reply. He tried again but the day's events had left Harry completely exhausted and he didn't wake. Balancing the tray, Tom opened the door to find Harry fast asleep in the corner of the floor covered with that flimsy piece of clothing.
It was not fair, he thought as he set the tray down on the table and closed the door. It was not fair that the whole wizarding world cheered and celebrated the demise of you-know-who when the one responsible for his downfall was all alone and sleeping on the floor. Tom couldn't see clearly through his tears as he searched for some clothes in the trunk. It was not fair that the boy had to go to sleep hungry when everyone else was partying and eating merrily thanks to him, he thought as he took the clothes and headed back for Harry's room. He stopped outside the door to wipe away the tears, Harry wouldn't appreciate the tears. Putting on a more calm and kindly face, he knocked again and entered finding Harry still asleep. He put the clothes on the chair before shaking Harry gently.
"Harry, why are you sleeping on the floor?" Tom waited as Harry woke up blinking groggily, the dirty and torn coat sliding down a little to reveal the equally dirty and torn shirt he was wearing.
"Oh...uhmm.....my back won't stop bleeding and I didn't want to stain the bed sheets", Harry replied, still more asleep than awake.
"What happened to your back?" Tom asked keeping his emotions out of his voice as he helped Harry up.
"Two of the prisoners stabbed me with something on the boat", Harry was fully awake by the time he said that.
"Well, you should have said something. Here, let me heal that for you" Tom's tone was of one scolding a small child. He got Harry out of his shirt and muttered a healing spell before marching Harry to the bathroom with the clothes he had brought, ignoring all of Harry's protests. The clothes were from one of the abandoned trunks. People sometimes left behind things in their hurry to leave and Tom would normally throw them away after waiting for some time. They were available and Harry might as well make use of them, he said. Tom cleared up the blood stains on the floor where Harry was sleeping and concentrated on maintaining his composure. He wasn't close to the boy, but from his long experience of meeting people he had learnt to read their emotions and Harry was the last person to accept pity or charity. He pretended to bustle around the room as Harry finished changing then more or less ordered the boy into bed and set the dinner tray on his lap.
"Now, eat. Why didn't you come down for dinner?" he asked as he slowly began to fold Harry's clothes.
"I didn't want to scare away your customers" Harry answered wryly between mouthfuls of delicious hot soup.
"Well, you should have at least rang and asked for some food to be sent up. Never mind now. Where are your spectacles?" Tom asked hoping he wasn't prying.
"I don't need them anymore" he was surprised by the bitter reply.
"Whyever not?" he asked his curiosity getting the better of him.
Harry stared at him bluntly before turning back to his dinner.
"They got crushed when I was being taken to Azkaban. Since I was going to spend the next fourteen years in a dark cell, the aurors saw no reason to repair it. So I didn't have any glasses in Azkaban. At first things were all blurry and I couldn't see anything but slowly my vision got better. So now I don't think I need them anymore." He only explained all that because Tom had been kind enough to bring him dinner.
"Oh" was all that Tom said. He finished folding the ruined clothes distractedly and headed for the door.
"Where are you taking my clothes?" Harry asked
"They are all ruined. I'm just going to throw these away and find something that fits for you to wear tomorrow."
"No, don't throw them away. I want to keep them" Tom shrugged and put the clothes down before going off to search for said clothes. By the time he came back, Harry had finished his dinner. He took the dinner tray and left after bidding Harry goodnight.
Harry was glad he had stayed for the night. With that thought he stretched out and went to sleep on the bed that felt too soft.
Harry woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. He found sunlight streaming in and the noises of people opening their shops in Diagon Alley below. He lay motionless for a moment as he realized he hadn't had any nightmares or visions. Of course with Voldemort dead, he wouldn't be subjected to another vision for the rest of his life and he had probably been too tired the day before for nightmares.
Harry tried to get up but immediately fell back as various parts of his body protested to movement by making odd popping sounds. His bones were all stiff and whatever remained of his muscles on his meager body ached with the slightest movement. Sleeping on a soft bed after a year of sleeping on stone wasn't such a good idea after all. Harry slowly made his way to the bathroom hoping a hot shower would lessen the pain. He was right, he thought as he came out dressed in the clothes Tom had given him.
Harry was about to sit down when there was a knock on his door. Tom entered with a mouth-watering tray of breakfast. He set it on the table in front of Harry and asked if he wanted anything else. Harry asked for a bag to put his clothes in and Tom left promising to bring him one later. Harry ate his first proper breakfast in ages slowly to savor it. Breakfast had always been his favorite meal of the day. He sat back and relaxed for a moment.
It was time to think about his future. If it was true that only a year had passed since his imprisonment, it meant that he was now fifteen going on sixteen. That meant he was a minor and had to stay with his guardians. However, he thought he had been through more than his share of misery and he was not about to put up with more. Since he had already been expelled from Hogwarts and his relatives probably didn't know or care where he had been for the past year, it was time to say goodbye to his old life and start a new one. He could disappear into the muggle world, find a place to stay, get a job, maybe finish muggle school. Heck, he didn't need money, he was a millionaire.
He no longer wanted to be a part of the wizarding world. Without his wand, he couldn't do much anyway and he could live without magical stain removers, talking mirrors and such. Meeting people he knew would only cause him unnecessary pain. Yes, it was best if he left this world behind. He would miss doing magic but the way he saw it, it was probably for the best if he never did any magic ever again. During his more sane hours in Azkaban Harry would sometimes try to figure out the reason for wizarding folks' stupidity. Surely they weren't naturally so stupid as to fall for every death-eater's lies and tricks and stereotype all people as either good or evil. Why were they so ready to believe that the boy-had-caused-Voldemort's-fall-at-age-one would join the murderer of his parents? All his past experiences with the wizarding world showed him a lack of intelligence or something among wizards when compared to muggles. The lies printed in the Daily Prophet and the people who were so quick to believe it. The election of a pure dimwit with his pin-striped bowler hat who worried more about his popularity as Minister rather than the very real threat of Voldemort. Witches and wizards everywhere who ignored the most obvious things under their noses and went out of their way to find some obscure and unbelievable rationale about Harry's motives and guilt. Surely this blockheadedness wasn't natural. Harry had come up with a theory that this dull-mindedness was caused by the use of magic. The more magic they used, the stupider they became. And so good riddance to it he thought though there was a huge part of his mind that doubted the theory and bitterly missed doing magic.
Harry was sitting on the windowsill, watching some early shoppers go around the Alley when there was a knock on his door. The door opened to reveal none other than Albus Dumbledore.
"May I come in?" he asked the forlorn young man.
Harry sighed before nodding and moving back to the couch. He knew he would have to speak to the old man sooner or late. Dumbledore closed the door behind him and sat opposite Harry, his beard as snowy-white as Harry's freshly washed hair.
"Harry, I would like to apologize on behalf of myself and the rest of Hogwarts staff for expelling you and not supporting you last year. Here is an official letter of apology and your re-admittance into Hogwarts" he handed Harry a scroll of parchment with Hogwarts' seal on it. Harry accepted and after giving it a brief look, rolled it back.
"Thank you, headmaster. But the re-admittance will not be necessary. I have no wish to return to Hogwarts" Harry looked calmly at the man who had once been his mentor.
"I'm sorry Harry. According to Wizarding laws and the latest decree passed by the Wizengamot, you have no choice but to finish your formal education at Hogwarts." The Headmaster explained an old law that had only recently been updated.
Harry had a hard time keeping his anger in check. How dare they? How dare they try to tell him how to live his life? Hadn't he been through enough? But he could see that Dumbledore was miserable for being the bringer of this news. The old man might have failed Harry at the Tournament but he could still read Harry as well as ever.
Harry just listened to what he had to say and nodded when he was finished. He was still seething inside but he understood that since he was a minor and an orphan moreover, the ministry could pretty much rule his life until he turned eighteen. And far be it for those meddling fools to leave him in peace. At least the term had just ended and he would have three months of holidays before he would have to face Hogwarts again.
"If that is all....." Harry began wanting to end the conversation but apparently Dumbledore had more to say.
Being a minor, Harry couldn't stay alone for the summer. Especially since the media of the wizarding world would be keeping a close watch on him. Not to mention some remaining Death-eaters who might try to exact revenge on him for Voldemort's death. He would have to stay with someone for the summer. The Weasleys and Sirius Black as well as some other wizarding families had offered to let him stay with them. In fact the Weasleys had come personally and were waiting downstairs in the hope that Harry would go stay with them for the summer.
Harry seemed to give the matter a great deal of thought before replying but from the clenching of his jaw at the mention of the Weasleys, Dumbledore knew his decision had been made from the beginning.
"As much as I appreciate their kind gesture, I think I will prefer to return to the Dursleys' for the summer like I always did. It is after all the safest place for me to be, isn't it?" Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm as his steady gaze remained on Dumbledore.
Dumbledore couldn't look into the young wizard's accusing eyes and stared at his hands instead. He tried to get Harry to reconsider but knew it was futile. Finally, he sighed gloomily and informed Harry that he would escort him to the Ministry car that would take him to Surrey. Harry sighed in frustration before getting up and picking his folded clothes. He followed Dumbledore downstairs to find the pub full to brimming of people and a sea of redheads standing up and looking at him anxiously. He ignored them and Hermione and Sirius who were also there looking at him nervously. The silence was deafening as curious witches and wizards stared at Harry in wonder while looked miserable and apologetic. Harry went up to the bar and handed his key to Tom. He paid Tom for the night's stay and dinner and breakfast in galleons. Tom was smarter than most and realized that refusing to accept the money would be a blow to the boy's pride and alienate him forever. He took the paper bag that Tom had promised earlier and put the rags he had been wearing the day before in it. He gave Tom a small smile, thanking him sincerely.
"Why do you want to keep those dirty rags? Let me get rid of them for you", a boy who had been clearing the tables offered.
"No. I want to keep them. I want to remember Azkaban" Harry's voice once again had the same dead quality as the day before.
Mr. Weasley winced and turned a questioning gaze on the headmaster. Dumbledore shook his head dejectedly. Mrs. Weasley understood the meaning of that and hesitantly approached Harry.
"Harry dear, I know you must be terribly angry with us but please give us a chance to make it up to you. We are all very sorry for what happened. We should have had more faith in you. Please....come back to the Burrow with us. Please.." she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.
Harry turned from the bar towards her and glared at her. His cold stare caused her to take a step back.
"I don't wish to go anywhere with any of you. Nothing you say or do could ever make up for my time in Azkaban. Leave me alone" his voice was calm and icy.
He took his bag and looked at Dumbledore who immediately walked towards the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He followed and the Weasleys, Sirius and Hermione all moved at once as if to stop him. He halted his steps and gave each and everyone of them such an accusing and cold glare that they stopped at once and dropped their gaze to the floor. He walked out of the pub in a fine temper, told Dumbledore that he didn't have to escort him all the way back to Surrey, sat in the backseat and slammed the car door. He tried to calm down as the car began its journey but every time he remembered their faces, he would feel his blood boil again.
How dare they think they could make up for abandoning him to Azkaban? How dare they even speak to him? The nerve of them, to expect him to come and live with them. Did they think they could all pretend that nothing happened to him? He never wanted to see any of them again if he had a choice. And the rest of the people back in the pub? How dare they look at him so pityingly? They had no right to pity him, to treat him like a crippled beggar. They didn't dare say Voldemort's name. They treated the monster with fear bordering on respect. He was sure none of the reporters had ever pestered Voldemort for an interview. But they treated him, their savior like some poor orphan boy. He had had it with the unfairness in the world. They had no right to pity him. They should all feel guilty, they should all regret their stupid actions of condemning him. He was going to remind them of that every chance he got. Oh yes, he was no longer the timid little boy who quietly endured every accusation thrown at him. Maybe, just maybe if he had defended himself against false accusations at Hogwarts, he wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban. If he had shouted and screamed at the Gryffindors who were mad at him for losing 150 points in his first year, maybe all of this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if he had stood up to the people who accused him of being Slytherin's Heir, he would have a little of their respect. Maybe if he had tried to stand up for himself when most of them hated him for becoming Champion in his Fourth Year, they would have paid attention to his pleas.
He couldn't change the past but he would certainly change the future. If he had to go back to Hogwarts and once again live under the same roof as those fools, he would make sure they realized their stupidity. He was sick and tired of being punished for things that he didn't do. This time they would get to know the real him. The real him that had survived Voldemort four times and finally defeated him all on his own. The real him that had spent a whole year in a prison guarded by his worst fears and survived it. They would never again pity him. They would show him the respect he deserved. They would realize that they couldn't control his life, as no doubt the minister wanted to do. He was not some orphan boy that lived on welfare. He was the only son of two powerful wizards, Lily and James Potter. He would make his parents proud of him. He had no wish to rule them or destroy them but he would no longer subject himself to their narrow-mindedness. It was time the wizarding world acknowledged the great wrong they had done him. It was time they acknowledged the greatest favor he had done them. It was time they learnt that the-boy-who-lived had become the-man-who-saved-them-all.
Harry needed to change his appearance. He needed to change the way he carried himself. He needed to be able to intimidate the reporters into leaving him alone. He needed to become a new person. Harry was lost in thought as he arrived at Privet Drive. He was preoccupied as he stepped out of the car and headed for the front door. He barely registered his aunt's shocked gasp at his appearance or his uncle's frustrated growl to the two badly dressed Ministry officials who were explaining everything to the Dursleys. Harry just moved past them and headed for his small bedroom. He lay down on his bed thinking of all the changes he needed to go through to make his new image. He had three months to complete his transformation.