Kannan Grimm unlocked the door to his little flat and sighed.
"Not again…"
The furniture in his living room had been moved, pushed back against the walls leaving a large creamy coloured, wool rug laying in the middle of the room. Bare except for a single red and black feather.
"Dammit." He sighed a second time and headed for the phone, he needed to call the police, this was the third time someone had done this.
Dialling the local station, he explained the situation and the bobby on duty said they would send someone around, it might take an hour, but someone would be there. While he waited, Kannan stayed in the kitchen and out of the living room, he dished himself a serve of the hearty stew he'd made the night before and sat looking forlornly out over his neighbour's back delivery dock.
The last week had been hard and his headaches were increasing, not to mention that the shop where he worked had been sold and the new owners were horrid. So much so, that after listening to the new manager, Ms Lincoln, berate a customer for nearly ten minutes, Kannan had sighed and stepped in, a few more insults and something in Kannan had snapped. He'd called her an evil harpy, pulled off his apron, slammed it down on the counter and told her, he quit.
Thank god, that yesterday ended his pay week. He'd accepted his payslip as he'd arrived to start the day, knowing that the money would have already been deposited into his bank account overnight, which was a relief. The benefit of having an accountant monitoring the transition from one owner to the next, he guessed. He didn't imagine that he'd be likely to receive anything for the few hours he worked, that day, but it was worth it, just to see the look on the bitch's face and have the gathered crowd cheer for him.
The buzz of the doorbell alerted him to the police's arrival. He showed them in and explained the situation, they took the feather as evidence and a whole heap of photos, but warned him that, like on the last two occasions, there was no evidence of force, tampering or fingerprints and suggested that he replace the locks… again.
He sighed and told them that his lease was up in a week and he was seriously thinking of just leaving. He had a few medical appointments to take care of, but then…? He was thinking of maybe travelling for a few months. The police nodded and left him to his afternoon.
As he sat on his balcony he thought back, as far as his memories would go. Which wasn't all that far.
Three months ago, Kannan had been found battered, beaten and unconscious, leaning against the emergency department's doors at St. James' University Hospital in Leeds, with what appeared to be a minor head wound. But that minor wound turned out to be a little more major than the docs anticipated. Kannan had no memory. Of anything. He didn't know his name, what city they were in, his age, his parents' names, what school he'd gone to. Nothing. His life was a bit fat blank, prior to waking up four days after he was found.
The police investigation was able to give him a rough idea of who he was and what his life had been like.
Kannan Evan Grimm was born to Rose Tansy Evans and Nigel Patrick Grimm on the 1st August 1979. Kannan had been kidnapped as a toddler and Rose killed in the same event. It took thirteen years before Kannan was returned to his father, unfortunately Nigel was killed in a Football stadium fire in 1995, leaving Kannan an orphan at sixteen. Due to his age he was placed into a halfway house and left pretty much to his own devises. He found work at a supermarket chain, almost immediately, but had recently moved jobs to a health food shop in Birmingham, as he lived a half mile from the shop and the commute was better. He'd only been there for a week when he'd turned up at the hospital.
The doctors believed that his head injury was to blame for his memory loss, but they were the ones at a loss when it came to determining when or if he would ever remember. He had photos of his parents and their friends, but he didn't know which was which. He knew the redheaded woman was his mother, she was frequently the only woman in a picture holding a baby, that was labelled Rose and Kannan. His father was a little more difficult. There were three men that were in most of the pictures he had, Nigel, Jeremy and James. The question was, which was which? He'd ruled out the man with sandy brown hair, as Kannan had much darker, almost black hair. One of the other men had hair almost the same colour, but Kannan had riotous waves like the third man. So, the pictures were no help, there. And none of the authorities were able to locate picture Id of either Nigel or James.
The harsh buzz of the doorbell, broke Kannan from his sombre thoughts. On opening the door, he found the hall occupied by a Royal Mail postman.
"Ah, Mr Grimm? Pete downstairs said ya were in. I did nae wanna leave a notice in ya box. I needs a signature fer this." He held out a clipboard on which rested an envelope, one that Kannan hoped held his New Zealand travel and work permits.
"Oh, sure." Kannan pulled out his wallet and showed his licence, before taking the clipboard and signing on the indicated line. He'd done his a few times, now, he had permits for America, Canada, Australia and now, hopefully, New Zealand.
"Thankee, sir." The postman grinned, tucked his clipboard away and headed back down the stairs.
Kannan waved him off and went back inside. He had his paperwork to travel, he'd quit his job, his lease was up in a week and a half and his flat had come furnished. Now, there was nothing holding him back from travelling, but himself.
He pulled out an atlas from the bookshelf and opened it. Where to go first? A spike of pain from his head, reminded him that he needed to see his doctors before making too many decisions, thankfully, he had an appointment the next day.
By the time he was ready for bed, Kannan had four pages of notes on places he wanted to visit. Once for each country. But that was later, right now, he needed some painkillers if he wanted to sleep at all tonight. He sighed and pulled the blinds and curtains closed, come morning the light was going to be too painful to cope with, if he didn't.
A burst of bright red and gold fire filled the bedroom, waking Kannan and causing him to screech in shock. As his sight cleared, he saw a stunningly beautiful bird, with brilliant red and gold plumage that appeared to be on fire.
In his shock, Kannan spoke without thought. "Bloody hell, Fawkes! Don't set the covers on fire!"
Only to fall silent when he realised what he'd said.
"Fawkes? Is that what you are?" He repeated.
The bird trilled and nodded.
"Hang on. Can you… can you understand me?" Kannan's eye widened alarmingly.
The bird nodded again.
"Why are you here? What do you want with me?"
The bird twisted around on itself and pulled, and when it faces him again, it had a beak full of feathers.
"Oh, bloody hell. You're the one leaving me feathers?"
The bird trilled and dropped the feathers on the bed.
"Why the… why would you do that?"
The bird tilted its head and huffed. It turned and studied the room before flitting over to the top of a chest of drawers and clutching at a plastic bowl holding the letter tiles from his scrabble game. A flick of the bird's beak and the tiles were spread out on the floor.
"Ruddy bird." Kannan sighed and flung back the covers, ready to get up and pick up the mess.
The bird flitted to the floor and began turning tiles over but when Kannan leant down ad began to scoop them up, the bird screeched and beat at him with its wings.
"Beaten up by a bloody bird in my own bedroom, oh, that's going to look good to the coppers." He muttered but stood and sat back on his bed, watching the bird continue to turn pieces over.
After watching for a bit, Kannan realised the bird wasn't so much making a mess, as trying to spell out something.
"A bird that can spell?" He shook his head. "This is just getting weirder by the moment."
When the bird stepped back Kannan looked at the tiles laid out between them.
"It's a name." He said, flatly.
The bird trilled and nodded, before pecking at them again and looking to Kannan expectantly.
"What? What do you want me to do?"
Another peck at the tiles.
"You want me to say that name?"
The bird nodded.
"Harry James Potter." Kannan said. "Is that it?"
Nothing happened and the bird huffed.
"What? Who is Harry James Potter?"
The bird trilled and pecked, very gently, at Kannan's hand.
"Me? Oh, no, bird, not me. I'm not Harry James Potter." As Kannan said that, a shaft of pain ploughed through his head. He fell back onto his bed, drawing in a breath to scream in pain. But before he'd finished that breath, the pain was gone.
Leaving him with a head full of memories.
"Oh, fuck me, Fawkes, did you have to? That hurt." He held his head in his hand trying to relieve the pressure. Fawkes trilled softly and leant against Kannan's leg. "Oh, hell…" He whispered. "I am Harry James Potter… or I was… am I still?" He shuddered. "No, I'm Kannan, now, my name was changed magically. Ooh… I remember how… oh, I can unlock my core, I can have my magic back… oh, Fawkes, thank you, thank you." Kannan reached out and drew a hand down the phoenix's back, from his head to the base of his tail. "Now, why are you giving me feathers? I don't have a wand, anymore, it was snapped fighting Nagini."
Fawkes picked over the tiles again. He placed three feathers together and beside them spelled out the word 'STAFF', while two feathers sat beside the words 'ADD YOUR BLOOD MAKE DUEL CORES'.
"My blood, what's so special about my blood?"
Fawkes shuffled the tiles and spelt out four words 'MY TEARS' and 'BASILISK VENOM'.
'Oh, yeah, right, forgot that. But I can't just go to Ollivander and ask him to make me new wands." Kannan frowned. "Does he even make custom wands?"
Fawkes spelt out more words. 'NOT OLLIVANDER' and 'BLISHWICK TECHNIC ALLEY'.
'Okay, but I can't just walk into Diagon, Fawkes. Not after being exiled. The Aurors would arrest me, quick as a snitch."
'NO', Fawkes spelt. 'HAVE NEW FACE NOT KNOWN', he paused for Kannan to read the tiles before shuffling them around, again, to read, 'NOT EVEN GRINGOTTS WILL KNOW THIS FACE', followed by another shuffle and 'NOT LOOK LIKE HARRY POTTER'.
The phoenix flew up onto the chest of drawers again and tapped his beak against the mirror above it. Kannan stood and took three steps over to stand in front of the mirror. The face that stared back at him wasn't Harry Potter. No one looking for Harry would look at Kannan, he looked far more like Sirius than he did James or Harry, even if his eyes were still the same brilliant green. His cheekbones were higher and his forehead broader, over a fine nose and lush full lips, Kannan looked more like a forties Hollywood heartthrob, more like a true Black. Not the boy-next-door looks of the Potters.
"Wow… I look nothing like Harry, anymore." Kannan breathed before his eyes widened. "I could see Hermione…"