Before I start this chapter, I just wanted to say that I have permission to use the idea of the sperm bank and glamour. I got the idea from Njchrispatrick and his wonderful story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years.' I highly recommend that you go and check it out before you read this. The quality of writing is phenomenal and the story is really, really sweet. So, if there are certain similarities, I do have permission to use them.
For a few seconds, Harry just blankly stared at the address. Then:
"An address? How can it be just an address?" he fretted. "This can't be it. It must be wrong. Mum and Dad wouldn't leave this little information for me." It couldn't be what they were looking for, could it? If there was even anything here in the first place, it wouldn't be a single address printed on a yellowing, brittle piece of paper.
"Or, there is the possibility that it has nothing to do with what we're looking for," said Ron, the voice of reason for once, confirming Harry's suspicions. "Let's keep looking, yeah? We'll keep this and if we find nothing else, then we can go see what this is about." That sounded more like it.
Harry nodded. "Okay, yeah. That's a good idea. Let's keep looking." He carefully put the envelope in the bag, along with the compass.
And look they did. For at least three hours, they perused every nook and cranny, hunting for that elusive document or artifact that would yield more information than a single address. An address! Of all the things for them to find and hold onto, it was an address! It puzzled Harry. It was a lead, sure, but a very obscure one that likely wouldn't prove very helpful. Still, a lead was a lead, even if it didn't go anywhere. There were many other documents that they took as well, all mentioning specific details about spells or family history. Hermione was likely to know what they were when she looked over them. Apart from those documents, he found a few more personal items he wanted to keep, including a picture of James and Lily and a particularly nice fountain pen belonging to some obscure family member he'd never heard of.
In the end, their search revealed nothing more, except a strange glass orb with unnerving blue light floating inside it that Harry decided to bring back for Hermione. To say he was thoroughly dejected was an understatement. It felt like a dark, brooding cloud was hanging over his head, storming all over his thoughts, which weren't exactly positive to begin with.
"I guess this is it?" Harry stared down at the address on the paper. It was taunting him. The other documents were inside the bag, safely tucked away. There was something about the address that drew Harry toward it, so he was holding it tight in his hand. It was now extremely crumpled, to a degree where it looked like someone had screwed it up, tossed it in the rubbish and then got it out again.
"I guess so," sighed Ron. He too seemed disappointed with their search. "Let's leave." Ron turned to go. He turned around to go, but Harry didn't move. He stood in the middle of the vault, eyes closed, breathing deeply. It was a long time since he'd felt such a connection to his family. It made his reluctant to leave. Ron put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can come back here later. We really need to go and follow these things up."
"Yeah," Harry sighed sadly, finally turning away and stepping out of the cosy vault and onto the rough stone outside. He closed the door and put the key safely in his bag.
Ron rang the bell a few times. It echoed eerily around the expansive caverns, stretching further down than eyes could see. It wasn't long before the screeching noise of the cart approaching interrupted the large silence. A different goblin from before sat at the helm. This one was a lot creepier than the other one. Once they were comfortably sat down, the cart zoomed off. The wind whipped through Harry's hair. With his glasses gone, he was forced to squint against the strong air currents.
Soon, they were standing outside of Gringotts, the sharp winter winds whipping their cheeks raw. The sky was clear and the sun shining, though there was no heat to be found. Shivering, they decided to walk up to the Leaky Cauldron and get a nice warm drink before they headed back to the burrow.
Diagon Alley was still getting its groove back after the war. Most of the stores were open and doing good business. It was the feeling that was different. Caution was now prevalent throughout the entire alley, like people were afraid that Voldemort was going to pop up from behind a bookshelf and start terrorising everyone again. It was slowly improving but the return to its former glory was going to take a long, long time. If there was one thing for certain, it was nice to see that people were happy again, not scared to go out in public.
They passed a storefront that was still boarded up, red bricks cracked and crumbling, windows smashed and graffiti all over the walls. What a project that would be. Harry smiled slightly and stopped Ron. "I'm going to reopen Florean Fortescue's, you know," he said. "I think it will be a nice change of pace. The place needs it, too." Ron shot him an incredulous look.
"Do you even know how how make ice cream?" He was laughing slightly, clearly thinking that Harry was joking. Ron had gone on to join the Auror force and was doing well in the training program. He clearly loved helping people. Harry did too, but it was time for him to do it another way. Such as: Ice cream.
"Nope. But I'll learn."
Ron patted him on the back just a little bit too hard. He was sent careening into a wooden fence where a young couple were passionately snogging. They immediately began cursing at him. Apologizing profusely, he made a beeline back to Ron.
"I'm a bit more fragile now, mate." And oh, how it annoyed him.
Ron snorted. "No kidding." They continued walking up the alley, Harry intent on ignoring the couple's death glares. "Well, opening it will be good for everyone. This place just isn't the same without it. Good on you."
"Thanks."
Ron considered something for a moment. "Are you going to bring back the goody-gum drop flavour? That always was one of the best, and no one knows where he got the recipe. Do you know the secrets now that you decided to open it?"
Harry snickered. "Goody-gum drop comes from muggle supermarkets. He went out and bought it." Ron looked utterly betrayed.
"So it isn't a fancy, super secret recipe? You're telling me I could have been eating it all this time?"
"Exactly."
Their conversation was interrupted when a woman with straggly brown hair and a ruddy, pockmarked face approached Ron. She completely. Her unusually large eyes were slightly glazed over. "Are you Ron Weasley?" She seemed very star struck.
"Yes?" he said, not quite knowing how to respond.
"Can you sign my chocolate frog card?" Without waiting for an answer, she thrust the card in his face. Suddenly looking a little star struck himself, Ron took the quill she offered and scrawled his signature over the back of it. The woman beamed. "Thank you, thank you!" She made to leave, but then turned back. "Who's this?" She gestured to Harry like he was some leftover from last night's dinner. He bristled.
"This is Ha―" He was cut off when Harry elbowed him in the ribs.
"Harper. My name is Harper," he sent a side glance at Ron. He wasn't going to have Ron bungling through a conversation and accidentally revealing their strange predicament. "Nice to meet you…" He trailed off, not knowing her name. Just because she was treating him awfully, didn't mean he needed to return the 'favour.'
"Genevieve Armand." She smiled at him condescendingly, like he wasn't good enough to be in the presence of someone like Ron. "Anyway, I better be going. Nice to meet both of you." She was only looking at Ron when she left, completely ignoring Harry. Genevieve pranced off down the alley, heading towards Gringotts, waving the chocolate card frog in the air. If she starting singing out of the blue, Harry wouldn't be surprised.
"That was strange," said Ron, blinking in a way that made him look like a particularly startled owl. He wasn't used to people approaching him all the time, that much was clear.
"You're lucky, mate," muttered Harry. "Everywhere I go I get bloody swamped. It's a relief to walk around without cameras flashing in my face."
"I guess." Then he grinned at Harry. "I still can't believe I'm on a chocolate frog card. How cool is that?"
"Very cool."
"You don't seem too excited about that."
"Yup."
They continued exchanging sarcastic, light hearted insults until they reached the Leaky Cauldron. A warm wave of air washed over them, so warm it was almost stifling. Harry went and found a table, while Ron ordered their drinks. He soon returned with a butterbeer in one hand and a firewhiskey in the other.
"What happened to warm drinks?" asked Harry, happily taking sips of butterbeer. Anything warm at the moment was a relief. His reflection was distorted in the glass. He hastily glanced away, not wanting to see those serious eyebrows or pointed chin.
"I changed my mind. Hey, are you alright?" He cast concerned eyes on Harry.
"Hmm?" He glanced up. "Yeah, yeah I'm alright."
"Okay, I'm going to tell you this now. No matter what you look like, you're still my best mate. Even if you're a twig." Harry chuckled into his drink.
"Thanks, I guess." He really wanted this conversation to end.
Sensing this, Ron said, "So how are we going to find this place?" Taking a sip of his drink, he grimaced. "I've never really been out there, so you're in charge here."
"Out there? Do you mean London?"
"Yeah."
"You're joking."
"Unfortunately not."
"Okay, so that's a snag. I think we should get these documents back to Hermione and then follow the address. Sound good?"
"Yep."
Harry downed the butterbeer in one gulp. Ron tried to do the same with his firewhiskey, but ended up spluttering and hacking from the searing drink. Harry guffawed at him, and then they both left to take the documents back to Hermione for analysis.
"There has to be something simple." said Ron. They were currently standing at the back of a shady alley (out of sight of the muggles) figuring out how to find the address from the envelope. It wasn't proving very good, at the moment. Hermione wasn't going to be any help to them for a few days. She was currently devouring the documents and artifacts they bought back for her, with that carnivorous gleam in her eye that would only be satiated when she absorbed enough knowledge to satisfy a mammoth.
"A map book." Harry said suddenly.
"Huh?"
"There are map books of London. We could buy one and locate it from there."
"Yeah, but wouldn't that take ages? London's bloody big." Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. He hadn't thought of that.
"True. And we don't have much time. This thing," he gestured to his face, "could become permanent."
"A point me spell!" Ron looked very pleased with himself.
"That can't work," Harry snorted. Then, uncertainly, "can it?"
"You won't know until you try. Give it a go!" Ron was looking a little desperate.
Harry sighed and pulled out his wand, making sure to put all of his willpower into the spell. If it was going to work, he would need all the force behind it he could muster. London was a huge area, and they had no bloody idea where the road was. "Point Me 7 Jubilee Road." Nothing happened for a few seconds. All of a sudden, the wand began spinning erratically, rapidly changing directions. It did this for at least three minutes, before stopping suddenly, definitely pointing somewhere. Harry laughed in disbelief. "It actually worked!"
"Well, we can't argue with that, can we?" cheered Ron, pumping his fist in the air. "Come on, let's go!"
Being extremely careful that the wand wouldn't be seen, they walked out of the alley, into the middle of London. Both were hoping that the walk wouldn't be too long, as the sky was beginning to gain that dusky glow of golden sun and pale, washed out blue. Along the way, there were a few close calls with the wand nearly being discovered, as well as a lady who complimented their cosplay, whatever that was. Both of them were thoroughly bamboozled with that one. After walking for around an hour, they finally came to a street sign that read, 'Jubilee Road.'
"Finally," groaned Ron. "I thought we'd never get here."
"You think you've got it bad?" puffed Harry. "It's not just my appearance that's changed. I can barely walk without getting puffed."
"You'll be back to normal soon. Then this will all be a story we'll laugh at."
"I'm not laughing at it now, idiot." Having caught his breath, Harry stood straight, his cheeks still flushed a brilliant scarlet. "There it is." He put his wand back in it's hip holster. "Let's go in." Side by side, they walked towards the building that stuck out like a sore thumb.
7 Jubilee Road was a modern building, a startling contrast to the quaint houses around it. Number 7 was all glass and metal and didn't exactly look welcoming. Harry didn't care about this. Inside this building were possible answers to his current...condition. Why they were in the middle of muggle London, he didn't know. For all he knew, this was a dead end. It didn't mean he wasn't going to check.
After hesitating for a second, Harry rapped smartly on the (surprisingly) wooden door, painted a bright, blazing blue. There was no doorbell to ring. Even if there was, Harry found doorbells rude and bit impersonal. Nobody answered, so he knocked again. This time, the door creaked open immediately by an ancient woman. The wrinkles on her face were so deep that a battle could be waged in them. Her hair was pure white, shooting off her head in little tufts, framing sparkling, dark eyes and a welcoming smile.
"Hello." Her voice was gentle, calming. "How can I help you?" She leaned heavily on the door, a leopard print (that's very strange, Harry thought to himself) cane clutched in the other.
"Hi," said Harry. He pulled the envelope out of his bag and showed it to her. "I found this letter in an old box in the attic. I was wondering if you would be able to tell me what this place is?" The lady brightened.
"Oh, certainly. It's strange that you don't know, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Come in and sit down. I'll fix some tea. It's just lovely to have visitors."
"Don't know what?" Harry asked. She merely smiled and ushered them inside.
She disappeared into the house. Harry and Ron followed. Inside, the house was even more strange, a mishmash of modern and what looked to be the...fifties. It was like two people of two totally different personalities had clashed when building a house and this was the chaotic result. The lounge, though, was completely the older style. It was comforting and simple. Also, the couches were comfortable, which certainly helped to ease Harry's nerves.
They sat in an awkward silence, until the old lady came out, carrying a teetering tray in one hand. The other was holding the cane. Harry jumped up and grabbed the tray off her, placing it down on the coffee table. He couldn't help but notice that she was taller than him. Of course. She smiled serenely at him.
"It's just lovely to see that chivalry hasn't died." She elegantly sat down in a delicate armchair. Her cane clattered to the floor. "Thank you. I'm Gladys, by the way.
"You're welcome, I guess. I'm Harry, and this is my best mate Ron," shrugged Harry. He turned serious again. "I'm sorry to press, but what do you mean, 'it's strange that you don't know,'" pressed Harry. A lump was beginning to form in his stomach, heavy and ugly. He didn't know why. "What do you mean, a first time for everything?"
She sighed. "You might want to sit down for this, sweetie." Harry did as he was told, backing into a chair and falling into it. His breath was beginning to come very quickly and black was encroaching on the edge of his vision.
"What happens here?" he said weakly. "Please, tell me.
"It's what used to happen here, actually," Gladys corrected. "I used to work here, but bought the building when the company went out of business."
"What company?" begged Harry. He needed to know, he needed to know right now what used to happen here.
"There's no light way to put this."
"Just tell me."
"This used to be a sperm bank."
Silence.
That was all that filled Harry's head. He could hear nothing, feel nothing except shock. Shock that made him numb, shock that made him feel everything that touched him. The world in front of him was white, a muffled landscape meant to cushion the words he'd just been told. But nothing could cushion those words.
Somehow, Harry could feel the air. It was getting heavier, approaching closer and closer, weighing more than the heaviest safe. It perched on his shoulders, pressed into his eyes, filled his ears with cotton buds and crushed his fingers. The white landscape in front of him was only becoming brighter and a loud ringing was bouncing and pounding in his head, playing cricket inside his skull.
Muffled voices began breaking through the barrier, and suddenly, Harry James Potter was snapped out of his haze and back into a reality that he would much rather raze to the ground than live in.
"No. That's not possible." Somehow, Harry was standing on the opposite side of the lounge, with no memory of having gone there.
Gladys gave him a sympathetic smile. It rubbed on his nerves, now. "I assure you, I know where I worked. I live in the building."
Harry's legs buckled under him. Luckily, Ron was beside him and caught his arm. "This can't be true. It can't be." Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. If they started, Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to stop them.
"Are you telling me that your parents didn't tell you?" Gladys now seemed incensed, though not at Harry. Her face contorted into an ugly glare, eyebrows low and cheeks tight, which she fixed on the couch. "How could they not tell you?" She grabbed her cane and took a step closer to Harry. "How cruel would they have to be to let you find out this way?"
"My parents are dead!" Harry was yelling at this point, lashing out at anything that moved. Gladys was unfazed, though her hair did look slightly more startled than it did before. "They've been dead my entire life. How were they supposed to tell me! Give me an answer!" He slammed a fist down on the coffee table, rattling the tea still on the tray.
"Oh." Gladys pursed her lips. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY," Harry snarled. "What I need is the truth. This is a joke, isn't it? A cruel joke set up to gain revenge on me for something stupid I did years ago. That's it, isn't it?" Harry fell back onto the couch. "Oh, how stupid am I?" He leaned back, dragging his hands through his hair, not even bothering to wipe away the fat, salty tears sliding down his cheeks. "The great Harry Potter, reduced to this! THIS ISN'T REAL!"
"Calm down, dear." Gladys sat down next to Harry and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid to tell you that this is, indeed real. This really isn't the best way for you to find out, but here we are. What we can do is work through this process together."
"No," he croaked out. "This can't be real. Please, tell me this isn't." He cast desperate eyes on Gladys. She moved forward and embraced him. "It can't be." She pulled out of the hug and smiled at him.
"You know, Harry, I remember the day your parents came in here." A teary eyed Harry glanced up at her.. "That's right. They were so kind and considerate, the nicest people you could ever meet. I remember James, with his flyaway hair, and Lily, with her freckles and gleaming eyes. They were so sad that they couldn't have children of they own, but still so optimistic. It's rare to see a couple so loving." Harry wiped the tears from under his eyes.
"You were there?"
"Indeed, I was. And I'm telling you this now, before you get some false notions in your head. Just because James isn't your biological father, doesn't mean he didn't love you. I didn't see them again after that day, but I knew he would be the finest of fathers. He loved you like you were his flesh and blood."
"I-I don't know what to do." Harry's voice barely came out, his throat raw and bloody from the yelling.
"It's alright. This has happened before with other people. In fact, you're handling this remarkably well." Gladys paused for a second. "If you want, I can tell you who your biological father is."
"You know?"
"It would be hard not to. Even though I wasn't there the day that they picked you, it's clear as day. You're the spitting image of him."
"Who?" Harry whispered hoarsely. "My world has already been upended. I don't what more could make it worse."
"Are you sure you want me to tell you?"
"Go ahead." Harry really didn't care at this point. What difference could one name make now?
"A certain man called Steven Rogers."
Well, that was longer than expected. I'm not complaining, though, it was fun to write. The ending was difficult, as well. Emotions like that aren't my strong suit, so I hope I did an alright job. I also want to say a huge thank you for all the support I am receiving for this story already. It's phenomenal, so once again, thank you.
If you want to, you can join my discord server. Link is below and the server is about everything fanfiction. It's set to never expire, you just have to type it in.
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Sincerely
Mariadoria