Harry Meets the World Below
Kipper looked carefully around as he slid the panel open allowing him access to the alley. Father had been very specific with the order from the Wongs today and Kipper did not want to fail him. Everyone was shouldering more responsibilities these days with the crisis involving Vincent and Catherine and he did not want to disappoint the grey haired patriarch of the Tunnel World. Contacting the Wongs for drugs and supplies for the hospital chamber was a task usually given to a senior member of the tunnel community. However, security was much tighter since the caverns and tunnels had been breached by the mad assassin called Snow, who had killed Brooke's boyfriend and Old Sam before Vincent had taken him out, and the task had to be assinged to whoever was avaliable at the time.
The early morning light rarely penetrated here in the back alleys of Chinatown, and this location was normally safe, with few, if any, visitors. He could visit the Wongs, pick up the supplies and be down below before more people appeared on the streets.
He scanned the alley, noticing no one around and had just reached back for the bags to hold the supplies when he heard a loud cracking sound. Turning back, he saw a small boy, dressed in clothes much too large for his frame, standing in the alley, a confused look on his face.
"Where did I get to this time," he heard the boy speak in a tone of wonder tinged with fear. "This is nowhere near the school: they will really think I am a freak now."
Kipper noticed the strange boy's accent and realized he must be new to New York. "Hey," he said in a friendly tone, "Where did you come from?"
The small boy turned and looked even more frightened than before. "Wh….who are you and where am I?" he stammered on seeing Kipper.
Kipper and others had been trained by Vincent and other senior members of the community to both protect the secret of the community and keep an eye out for people in need. This boy looked lost, alone, frightened and gave off the vibes that Kipper had come to expect from children who were abused.
"My name is Kipper and you're here in Chinatown. What's your name?"
"Harry….Potter."
"You from over the water?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't understand…over the water?"
"Yeah," Kipper replied. "From the UK?" At seeing Harry's confusion, he continued, "Great Britain?"
"I'm from Little Whinging, Surrey," Harry said in a low voice. "But where is here?"
"Well, you're in New York City, a long way from Surrey, wherever that is," Kipper said with a smile. He decided he liked this small boy and he could sense Harry was on the edge of panic now.
New York City? Harry had grown up with little knowledge of geography and of world cities, but even he had heard of the big city in the United States called New York. From what little he had heard on the telly, when the Dursleys would not shut the cupboard door, he knew it was a long, long way from Surrey. Perhaps he was safe here, if only for a moment. He relaxed fractionally and looked at the warm brown eyes of Kipper.
"Would you like to help me today?" the older boy was asking Harry. He could see the friendly expression in Kipper's eyes and decided that anything would beat Harry Hunting or living in a cupboard.
He nodded his head and extended a hand.
"He just suddenly appeared, Father, in the alley. One minute the alley was empty and the next he was there. He looked so lost, alone and frightened," Kipper told the patriarch of the tunnel world.
Harry had proven himself as more than a willing helper with filling the bags with the drugs and supplies and despite his smaller size, Kipper could see that he would go a long way to carrying the supplies back to the Hub. But he also couldn't help seeing the bruises on his arms and the marks on his back as Harry was reaching up to hoist the bag onto his shoulder. Although Kipper was young, he could see that his new young friend had been, and probably still was, being mistreated.
He had suggested switching bags with Harry and noticed immediately that Harry, while willing to help, appreciated the lighter load. He decided to invite Harry to the tunnels and have him meet with Father, standard procedures in similar situations.
"Harry, I really appreciate your help and I would like you to meet some friends of mine," Kipper began. "But the place where we are going with these supplies is a secret place for people who have had some trouble in their life.
"Would you like to come with me?"
This was the first time in Harry's memory that someone had invited him to go or come somewhere and the idea of a secret place for people who had problems touched him and placed a feeling in his heart that he had lost long before. It was only a glimmer, but he felt warmed by the obvious friendship of Kipper and his willingness both to include him and invite him to visit his friends.
"If you don't mind," he said hesitantly.
"I'll warn you that where we live is a bit unusual, but it is a place where there is love, friendship, and warmth," Kipper said. "Just don't judge us until you talk to the head of our little community, Father."
And now here he was, standing before an elderly gentleman with a neatly trimmed beard, in a room that was as different from the Dursleys as black was from white. The disordered collection of books everywhere, the warm brown colors, the tappings of the pipes in the background and the occasional sound of something moving in the background made Harry feel as if he was in a fairy tale.
Add to that the fact this world was underground, that the inhabitants appeared to wear strange collections of clothes and that it was lit with candles and torches: it was definitely unlike anything Harry could recall from his 'normal' relatives.
Now his new friend was speaking to this elderly gentleman he addressed as Father.
Jacob Wells had become an acute observer of people since he had descended to the tunnels below and helped to found the community of which he was now the titular head and he could tell much about Harry in the few short minutes he had laid eyes upon him. His experienced medical eyes looked past the oversized clothes and the taped up glasses and began cataloguing the abuse.
Malnutrition was obvious, he thought to himself; the boy was way too thin for his age. Despite Harry's small size, it was clear that he was 9 or 10 years of age. His hands showed bruising and one finger definitely looked as if it had been broken.
It was Harry's general manner that told Jacob Wells much more. He hung back in the shadows, looking to blend in and not be noticed and was clearly uncomfortable with the attention and regard he was receiving from the older man. He was definitely frightened, yet there was a spark of something in his eyes as he looked between Kipper and himself. Jacob had seen it before – the spark of hope.
Signing for Kipper to stop speaking, he bent down slowly and looked into Harry Potter's frightened, yet hopeful eyes. It was important here to be slow and deliberate and not startle young Harry with sudden movements.
"Well, young Harry, welcome to our humble abode," he said looking directly into Harry's eyes. "It appears that you are a long way from home – or is it home?" Begin with a leading question and see what young Harry would say.
The bitter tone did not surprise Jacob, but the strength of it did. "It's not home, never has been. Been told by them that I'm nothing but a freak, an accident, the product of drunken parents," Harry spat out.
Back in Scotland, a silver monitoring device blew up and the last of the wards fell at 4 Privet Drive. Albus wasn't there to notice as he was meeting with Auror Alastor Moody in an effort to locate a runaway Harry in London.
"Who were you staying with?" Jacob continued slowly and gently.
"My uncle and aunt," Harry replied. "Only they told me that they took me in out of the goodness of their hearts and then they let me live in a cupboard."
Jacob sucked in his breath at that last statement. He had heard many horrific stories over the years from abused children and adult survivors of child abuse. But letting someone live in a cupboard presented a new low.
He pushed down on a growing sense of rage at hearing Harry speak. It was clear the young boy was telling the truth: the signs of abuse were too clear and the manner of acting and speaking were too real to be acting. But now was not the time to get the full story. He could sense Harry's fatigue and the young boy's emotions were too close to the edge for a detailed discussion. It was clear that Harry was near his limit and needed to be comforted and made welcome now. He could take the time to explore what to do with him and how to take action, if any, against his abusers at a later time.
"Harry," he said in a welcoming tone. "Kipper was right to bring you here and on behalf of our community I would like to welcome you to the World Below. While the scenery may not be spectacular, our hearts are always open to receive and protect those who need it."
He could see Harry begin to relax and the small spark of hope begin to fan itself into a small flame.
"Our rules are simple here: listen to those who are older because there are many parts of our world that are dangerous if you do not know your way; work on your studies because we are part of a larger world above; do those small tasks that we will assign because we all should work together to build and maintain our community and most of all, do not hesitate to share with us when you have needs." He caught Harry's nod of approval at those conditions and relaxed himself. While abused, this young boy was not damaged beyond repair.
"One last condition," he added. "This world is a secret place, a safe place, a place where others can come and count on help. We must keep the secret of this place at all times.
"Can you agree to this, Harry Potter?"
Harry nodded again and timidly extended his right hand. Jacob moved slowly and deliberately shook it.
"Then welcome to the World Below."
Diana Bennett was enjoying, or rather tolerating, one of Jacob Wells' infernal cups of tea. While the tea was piping hot, she still missed the sharp flavor of coffee and wondered anew how she could convince the leaders of the world below to set up a coffee percolator.
Her attention returned to Father's news update.
"Our newest resident appears to have just shown up in a Chinatown alley," Jacob was saying. "He is definitely British and lists his old residence as 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I hesitate to call it his old home."
Diana's ears perked up at the veiled anger in Father's voice.
"Abused?"
"Monumental and long term," he said. "Long term malnutrition, numerous broken bones, whippings from a belt, forced child labor, let alone the psychological and emotional abuse and starvation they put him through."
"Parents?" Diana was now wearing the hat of a police detective.
"Uncle and Aunt. They told him his parents died in a car accident because they were drunk. Didn't even tell him his name until he was forced to go to school. They called him "boy" or "Freak" – even until he left them."
He looked at Diana, his eyes now burning. "He spoke of living in a cupboard under the stairs and the way he speaks about it is one of experience.
"How could anyone be that cruel, Diana?"
Diana looked at her teacup, forcing down her own anger. She had a soft heart for children and it was these kinds of cases that wormed their way the deepest into her heart. How someone could methodically torture, starve, overwork and abuse a child was something she always had difficulty with.
"Do we know who the relatives are?"
"A Vernon and Petunia Dursley," Jacob said.
"Still in Little Whinging?" Jacob nodded. "There isn't much we could do here to get them over there," Diana said after a few moments of silence. "Different country, different laws. Plus they may put him into foster homes which are not always a gift either. If you can welcome him here?"
Jacob's face broke into a genuine smile. "That young man has already wormed his way into everyone's heart. Always polite, never challenges someone's request, always helpful: I believe I would have a rebellion if we removed Harry Potter from our community now."
Diana couldn't resist a smile. What Vincent had said to her about having fires always warm for her was not restricted to her alone: this world had a heart larger than the city of New York. Harry Potter's luckiest day was meeting Kipper in Chinatown.
"Any idea on how he got here?" she asked.
"No, and that is the strangest thing about this whole story. He told me that one moment he was running from his cousin who was looking to beat him up, the next he was on the school roof and the next minute he was in New York," Jacob said, shaking his head. "It almost sounds like magic."
"Strange things happen in this place," Diana shuddered on thinking of the events of the past few months. Even now with the safe return of Jacob, Father's grandson, the community, Father, Vincent and even herself had gone through hell and desperately needed a time of healing.
And young Harry Potter was doing his part to help the community heal. She remembered hearing how Harry met Vincent for the first time.
Kipper took his new young friend by the hand and led him to a chamber away from Father's office and home.
"I'm going to share one of our greatest secrets. You are about to meet the heart of our community, of our world. If Father is our head, then Vincent is our heart.
"But he is different. Just don't try to judge him by what you see."
Harry's interest was now awakened. "What do you mean: don't judge him by what I see?"
A deep, yet soft voice came from the darkness of the chamber. "He means, young Harry, that you cannot judge a book by its cover."
Harry could not describe the feeling that came over him at the sound of that voice. Cultured, learned, warmth and a sense of caring: all were sentiments that were born within him when he heard it for the first time. He made a guess at who was speaking.
"Vincent?"
"Yes," came the reply and Harry could hear a wry sense of humor in the answer. "I am Vincent and as Kipper is wont to point out, I am a bit different. But then, young Harry, I suspect you are different in your own way. One moment in England and the next in New York City without any idea on how you got here."
The source of the voice was coming closer and Harry could see now that whoever was speaking was big. Yet, listening to his voice, he did not feel alarmed: instead he felt almost hypnotized and at peace.
As Vincent finally moved into the light, Harry's initial impression of Vincent's size was confirmed, but he could only see his cloak and hood. Vincent's voice still gave Harry a sense both of hushed power and of caring. Then as Vincent reached up to push his hood back, Harry saw his face.
In the light of the candles, he could clearly see Vincent's leonine features and the hint of fangs. How such a mouth could form words and even speak, he wondered for a moment, but then he looked into Vincent's clear blue eyes. Those eyes looked back into Harry's emerald green eyes with friendliness and a little curiosity.
Surprisingly, to all the people in the room, including himself, Harry smiled. "Wow, I see what you mean by not judging a book by its cover."
Vincent's empathic sense could find no fear in Harry's view of him. It could have been from the many things he had already seen in the world below or in the sense of acceptance Harry was now feeling in this place.
"I guess you are different on the outside," Harry continued. "But after everything else I have already been introduced to, you somehow fit right in."
Vincent could now sense Harry's wonder and blossoming of hope. Anew, he thanked the heavens for the acceptance and open mindedness of a child, and especially this child. Harry was adding something magical to this world, something they hadn't even known they had been missing until now.
"As do you, young Harry, as do you," was Vincent's only reply.
A/N: Once again, reviews and constructive critisism are appreciated, flames are used to bake cake.