"Imagine a world where magic roams free," the man on stage began. "A world of wonders where dragons, unicorns and other fantastic beasts are not gone but merely waiting for somebody to find them. Imagine a world where nature's laws are bending to the will of man. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I will allow you to take a glimpse of this wondrous world. And once you leave this theater you will wonder..."

The man's emerald eyes looked at the captivated audience. Finally, he slyly smiled and opening his hand a white dove suddenly appeared.

"What if this world is closer than we think?"


Harry was still snickering after the show.

That had been the biggest breach in the Statute of secrecy he had ever witnessed and probably ever would. The man had first appeared to be conjuring several doves one after the other, lazily talking about the wizarding world. When the man had given him the previously agreed signal Harry had entered the scene pushing a trolley with a wardrobe on it.

Or, as Patrick Evans had called it, the vanishing cabinet.

"It's the first time I'm using the vanishing cabinet," Mr. Evans said when Harry talked about it. "I must admit I didn't expect the audience to enjoy it so much. I'm even starting to think this one will become a classic if I play it right."

The man stopped talking when he spotted near the door to his room a brown-haired man with the bushiest mustache Harry had ever seen.

The man turned around and seeing them pointed a finger in Mr. Evans direction.

"Twins."

Mr. Evans burst to laugh. "This is the fifth time you're giving me the twins explanation, inspector. Where does this fascination you have with them even come from?"

"Yes, I'm saying it's twins because it's twins! This is the only way this trick can work-"

"Allow me to correct you on this point, inspector. It doesn't have to be twins, it can sometimes be triplets." Seeing the man growling he smiled. "Why is it so hard for you to believe magic is real?"

"Oh please." The man rolled his eyes. "If magic was real I think everybody would know by now."

"Maybe they do. Food for thought, inspector: what if everybody knows magic is real and your lot are the only ones not in the known? Just imagine: an entire society with its own laws and its own police whose sole goal is to insure honest people like you never find the truth."

The man scoffed and Mr. Evans grinned. "I know your sort makes it a point in keeping how your magic tricks are done a secret," he dryly replied, "but really? An entire police insuring your secrets stay that way? Where do you even get such ridiculous ideas?"

"If you know we make a point in keeping our secrets secret, why are you still trying to get me to confess how it's done then?"

"I'll find out how it's done," the inspector said, pointing a finger at the unimpressed magician. "And when I see through you magic tricks, you and your friends will stop nabbing people and everybody will finally realize you're nothing but frauds and leave behind all these silly concepts like magic in the past where they belong."

Mr. Evans shrugged and pleasantly smiled. "You're welcome to try, inspector. Still, what a boring world you want us to live in."

But the man had already walked away.

Mr. Evans amusedly shook his head and opened the door to his suite. "If this isn't a sign it was a good night..."

As the two entered the room Harry couldn't help noticing besides the cage filled with white doves on the table the numerous posters on the walls of Mr. Evans in the most classical magician clothes Harry had ever seen and doing outrageous magic tricks. In one he was a mind-reader, in another he was growing an orange tree and Harry couldn't help snickering when he spotted one where the man he was cutting a woman in two.

"So," the man said as he was taking off his magician cape, "if you help me here the whole summer, your mission will be to make sure people such as the good detective you've met do not go near the vanishing cabinet and other artefacts I use for my shows and bring them to me when I ask."

"Sure."

"You may also help me on stage but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Taking the glass of whiskey on the table nearby he started drinking. "Considering who your teacher is, I assume this part shouldn't be too difficult."

Harry frowned. "My teacher?"

With a finger Mr. Evans pointed a poster on the far left.

On it was drawed two very familiar blue eyes.

THE HYPNOTIC MESMER ON SCENE

Harry sweat-dropped. "Is this actually legal?" he weakly asked.

Mr. Evans's green eyes shined in amusement. "Who knows? You will find out, Mr. Potter, that here in London very few things are black and white and that the frontier between our two worlds is far blurrier than you can possibly imagine."


Harry's first weeks in the muggle world were relatively calm, all things considered.

In the morning Harry would wake up and go to Madam Malkins' to work and attempt to sell something and in the evenings Harry would protect the vanishing cabinet, a task that happened to be far more complicated that it looked as Harry found out when he spotted one day a street child trying to get in the room where the cabinet was stocked through the air conducts.

A few pennies from Mr. Evans managed to loosen his tongue and soon Harry knew that 'a bobby' with an enormous mustache had asked him to check what was inside the vanishing cabinet.

"And he paid you handsomely, I assume," Mr. Evans concluded.

The eight-years old grinned. "Getting in there must be dangerous," he said in a heavy cockney accent. "I could never come back."

The man laughed.

Once the boy was gone Harry asked, "Does this happen often?"

"Often enough I'm not surprised anymore. Mind you, I'm pretty sure he's not really sending kids for the cabinet. Still, he's rather ingenious actually so look at everything and suspect anything. Did you check the cabinet by the way?"

Harry shook his head. "I know how vanishing cabinets work so..."

The man blinked and shook his head. "I suppose that was to be expected. Oh well, as long as nobody bothersome checks it… That reminds me," he said as he snapped his fingers, "I want your wand."

Harry startled. "Why would you need my wand?" he asked, defensive.

Mr. Evans strangely smiled. "I don't need it actually. I just want to put it somewhere safe." Seeing Harry's wary face he sighed. "You're not supposed to use magic here in case you've forgotten already, and bringing a wand in this place can bring you a lot of troubles. When you're here, you must put it away and keep it somewhere safe where nobody can find it. It's not as if you'd need it anyway."

But Harry couldn't help feeling uneasy. The idea of not feeling the wand's comforting weight was filling him with dread.

"What if something happens and I need it?"

"What do you think is going to happen in less than three hours?"

"W-Well, we could- We could get attacked."

"In a theater?"

"W-well you never know. It could happen."

Mr. Evans sighed and pinched his nose. "Even if something happens," he said in a low voice, "you are not allowed to use magic. I know you don't see it this way but you're using your wand as a security blanket."

"I'm not!" he vehemently protested.

"Yes, you are. I'm sure the idea of having a wand nearby is comforting and you feel safer with it on reach but there will be times when you just have to do without it. And when that time comes, what are you going to do if you've never learned to get by? I have asked very little of you, Mister Potter, but this is a rule you must abide here. Within this theater, your wand stays in a hiding place I'll show you. Is that understood?"

Harry bit his tongue and desperately tried to find something to prove the man he needed it but the magician's green eyes were making it clear nothing was going to change his mind.

So, very slowly, Harry retrieved his holly wand.

"It's a bad habit you've taken," Mr. Evans said as he took his wand. "Relying too much on one thing and hoping your wand will be the cure-all. Hopefully we'll manage to cure that before it gets too ingrained. Now I'll show you where to put it and you get back to work."

But even though he knew that realistically he wouldn't have used it at all, Harry couldn't help feeling the rest of the evening very naked.


On the 10th of July, Albus came back with a magazine on hand.

"Page twenty," he just said.

Harry turned the pages and burst to laugh.

On page twenty was a picture that would have appeared to be black and white if not for the very happy auburn-haired boy in plum robes holding a trophy.

Albus grinned.

"And it was only you in colours there?" Harry couldn't help asking between two laughs. "Really?"

He chuckled. "I may have checked my sleeve once or twice to confirm I hadn't become colourblind. The journalist was so shocked he even keeps mentionning my robes in the article."

It was true. The very first sentence of the article even was: 'Dressed in plum for the ceremony, Albus Dumbledore shows us once again breaking conventions is sometimes necessary to advance in the potionmaking field.'

"Everybody was looking at me," Albus added. "I thought at first it was a bad thing but then I realized that actually was quite the opposite. Who knew the key to success was actually a good tailor?"

"Well then," Harry said as he closed the magazine, "it was a pleasure to help."

Albus raised a hand when he handed the magazine to him. "Oh I bought another one. You can keep it if you want as a- as a souvenir."

Harry blinked and glanced at the newspaper, not quite knowing what to say.

"You don't have to naturally," Albus hurried. "I just thought- Well I thought that maybe you'd- Maybe you'd like a memento of that time you sold something so extravagant everybody couldn't stop talking about it."

For a moment Harry didn't say anything and only looked at that grinning red-haired boy in plum clothes in a sea of back and white.

Finally he smiled. "I suppose that's something worth boasting. Being responsible of Albus Dumbledore's fashion sense."

Albus gave him a soft smile.

He then told Harry that since he now had an image to uphold he needed a new wardrobe.


An owl came to the Evans on the 13th of July.

It took a moment for Harry to realize that was his OWL results.

He swore and hurriedly took the letter. When he had it in his hands he paused.

He knew he had done relatively well but how well exactly? More than that, would his marks be better than those he would have gotten in the twentieth century? And when was he going to even hold his OWL results from 1996?

Mr. Evans looked at the letter from behind his shoulder. "Ah right," he said as he saw the seal.

"What is this, Patrick?" his wife asked.

"Looks like he's got his Ordinary Wizarding Levels results." Seeing her frowning he explained further. "It's the test wizards sit to get their qualification and show when they're applying for a job."

"I thought it was the NEWTs," Harry said.

"That one's only for very qualified jobs if I remember correctly. Or for teaching "

Harry looked at the emerald letters on the envelope for a long moment, not daring to open it.

"Oh for God sake," Mrs Evans said before taking the letter from his numb hands. Opening it she glanced at the results and winced.

"What, What's wrong?"

Mrs Evans didn't answer.

"Give it to me," her husband told her. Once the letter was in his hands he winced.

Harry's heart fell. "That bad?"

But Mr. Evans didn't answer and kept reading. Once he turned the page he rolled his eyes.

"Figure they explain the markings on the last page. Classic." Giving the letter back to Harry he told his wife, "The circles are not zeros, they're the letter O for Outstanding."

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL TESTS

Astronomy O

Care of magical creatures O

Charms O

Defence Against the Dark Arts O

Divination O

Herbology O

History of magic P

Potions O

Transfiguration O

"He didn't flunk his tests," Mr. Evans told his wife. "He's got top marks. Quite an achievement really. How does it feel?"

Harry was too busy gaping to answer.

It had to be a fluke, he thought. Somebody surely made a mistake somewhere, that couldn't be possible he got such high marks. And maybe he deserved an Outstanding in Defence and Divination but in Potions and Transfiguration and everything else? No way.

But Albus had implied he should receive an Outstanding in Transfiguration and had harassed him enough with mock tests he had basically done the real ones on autopilot. After two entire years preparing himself for the same test over and over, it had hardly felt like a challenge. Was he really worthy of such marks or did he just work for so long he was past such questions? Like a child learning math, did it mean anything if a man solved the same equation without a thought? He wasn't some genius, he had just worked more than everybody else on these bloody OWLs.

But Mrs Evans scoffed when he said that. "And what's wrong with hard work?" she dryly asked. "A man who works hard is worth ten so-called geniuses who give up at the first difficulty. Who cares if the one solving the equation is a child or a man? All that matters is the answer."

"Agreed," Mr. Evans said. "Geniuses may have a head-start, it may not mean anything if they don't work hard. What's that story about the slow animal that beats the fast one again?" he asked his wife.

"The tortoise and the hare?"

"These two." He nodded. "You may be the tortoise, you still reach the finish line and who cares how long it takes? Some never do."

Harry didn't answer. Slowly he read his results again.

His lips stretched into a humourless smile. "I still got Poor in History."

"That only means you still have to to work hard on it. If you do, you'll probably know more than everybody else. Now you should probably hurry up before you are officially late for work."

Harry cursed and hurriedly finished breakfast before running to Madam Malkins'. At nine o'clock Albus came and after warmly congratulating him showed him his own OWL results.

As expected, he got Outstanding in literally everything .

Some hares, Harry decided, were running so fast he seriously doubted he'd ever see that one's tail.


Mr. Evans cursed when he checked his fob watch before his show.

It wasn't rare to see Mr. Evans taking a look at his golden watch and see him hitting the watch crystal with a finger. After a few days Harry had reached the conclusion the object was not a muggle watch and did more than tell the time. What it truly showed however, he didn't have the faintest idea.

"Change of plan," he told Harry as he closed the watch and put it in his pocket. "We won't be using the vanishing cabinet today." Pointing said cabinet on the trolley he said, "Once you've put it back in the storage room you go home."

"What but-"

"Do as you're told."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but the man had already entered the scene.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry took the trolley and pushed it to the storage room, wondering what had driven Mr. Evans to forego the vanishing cabinet part so suddenly.

Harry turned left and abruptly stopped when he spotted a man with a big mustache.

"What now?" Harry snapped.

But the inspector seemed hesitant. "I know I must seem presumptuous but does your father know anybody who'd be… eccentric enough to wear a ruff?"

Harry was about to blurt out where on earth the man got the idea he and Mr. Evans were related but hearing the rest of the sentence paused.

Ruffs had been out of fashion for centuries. And while the seers he knew were definitely eccentric, he doubted any of them would choose these sort of clothing if they wanted to blend in the muggle world. Or bother with trying to blend in.

"Why?" he asked.

The man hesitated. "A man asked me questions. About that vanishing cabinet over there."

Harry looked at the vanishing cabinet. "What did they want with it?"

"To know how it worked." The inspector snorted. "Seemed to believe it was magical; I kept telling them there is no such thing as magic and it most probably has a secet passage leading to the ground where there must be a hidden trapdoor leading to the other end of the theater but they refused to listen. They also asked me if I knew where it was but I-"

But Harry wasn't listening anymore.

It was clear these people were wizards, and Harry had pretty good idea why wizards would ask questions about the vanishing cabinet, who they were and what they wanted.

Suddenly Mr. Evans refusing to use it tonight made an awful lot of sense.

The older man closely looked at him. "So they mean trouble," he stated.

Harry didn't answer and pushed the trolley, almost running as he went to hide the vanishing cabinet.

The ministry wasn't going to get him this time.

Once the cabinet was in the storage room and carefully hidden behind other massive artefacts he ran to Mr. Evans' rooms in hope to grab his wand before the wizards could find him.

The inspector was already there, pressing a ear against the closed wooden door. Without a word, he moved to let Harry do the same.

"-nor," Harry heard Mr. Evans saying. "Truly, this is quite an honour you're giving me. Who would have thought that Aurors would be coming to my shows when I'm sure they are busy trying to catch very dangerous dark wizards? Aren't you just a tiny overqualified for this sort of things, Brutus? Have you even warned your colleagues you were about to deal with a dangerous man such as-"

"Shut up, Squib."

The inspector frowned.

"Look at yourself," the voice continued. "Playing wizards when you haven't got even a drop of magic in you. And that vanishing cabinet, how pathetic can you get?"."

"Allow me to correct you," Mr. Evans coldly replied. "There is more magic in my little finger than there is in your entire family tree."

A pause. Then a scream. "You think you're being funny?" the man shouted and the detective startled. "You want me to teach your place again, is that what you want?"

"Stay here," the man ordered.

Before Harry could stop him, the man opened the door and entered the room. He then closed the door.

"Scotland Yard," Harry heard, "I will ask you to-"

A loud noise left the room and without even thinking Harry opened the door and entered the room, his hand reaching for his pocket.

His pocket where his wand desperately was not.

The last thing Harry saw was a dark-haired man pointing his wand at him.


A/N For Harry's OWL results they were mostly based on how Harry fared in OotP. I know we like to call Harry lazy and/or dumb but he actually got excellent marks. O in DADA, E in Charm, Potion, Transfiguration, CoMC... His only less than E marks were History of magic, Astronomy and Divination and even then Hagrid got attacked during the Astronomy practical exam so we can give him some leeway and assume he could have scraped an E.
Considering Harry had another year to prepare these OWLs, has an entire century of innovation on his side and Albus Dumbledore helping him it is quite natural than these Es slowly turn into Os.
No luck for History of magic though. He still is pants at it.