Jojo had had it. He had fought with the Whos at school from eight am to five pm over something too stupid to even think about, had a yelling row with his sisters over the special treatment he didn't want to begin with, and a ten second screaming match – where Jojo did most of the screaming – with his father over being Mayor before walking away. And this was the final straw.
"Honey, your father was only trying to help you and let you know about . . . your future." His mother stood in the door, her eyes sad as her only son hid himself under the covers. "I . . . I know you don't want to be Mayor, but the only way to get out of it would be bequeathing the position to your oldest younger sister when you come of age."
Jojo sighed and looked at the brown-furred face of the only person who actually got that he didn't want to me the effin' Mayor of Whoville. "But Mum . . . what if I left? What if I disappeared? Would that work?"
Sally was very reluctant to actually answer this question but her baby boy needed the answer more than she needed him to stay on and be miserable beyond his limits. "I – yes, that could work. But, please, just try and think of another option, Jojo. I love you and I would miss you very much if you had to leave."
He nodded slowly, having already thought of the other options and, short of death, there were none left.
Once his door clicked shut, Jojo took out a calligraphy brush and a special type of ink. No one knew where it had come from, but Jojo would bet that it had come from Above. May hap not from Horton – an elephant with a less than sensible mind – but someone had dropped it. He applied the newly blackened tip to a dark stripe, letting the ink flow into the shapes he had found within a scroll so old the edges crumbled and the ink had faded into near illegible scrawls across the parchment. This was far from the first time he had started and the ink had never faded – never washed or wore – as it tattooed his skin softly. Only the slightest of tingling let him know that there was more to this ink than was seen.
Once finished on the stripes covering his back, the mirror used liberally, he attached a bracelet made of his mother's and seven youngest and favorite sisters' hair. A gift for helping save Whoville, or so they had said, but more of a way to keep them all close to him and in remembrance. It was an ancient custom lost some time ago, according to his mother, and used only when needed. According to the timeless records, saving the town was a good time as any.
Jojo sighed tiredly, like he had every time he did this, as he felt suddenly drained beyond belief. It was almost a full six months in Whoville since Horton had saved the "world on the speck" with a few technical difficulties along the way. Mayor Ned, his father, had started pushing Jojo to learn more about his "destined" position immediately afterward . . . with little success with even his bulldog like tenacity. Jojo did. Not. WANT! Did not! Give to someone else! Put someone in charge that cared! But Jojo wanted nothing to do with it.
Scrubbing his face, he sat down to rest, maybe relax for a second. The knock on his door didn't seem to get the message. Stalking to it, he flung the door to his portal wide.
Several of the girls, most of them the older ones, stood like tin soldiers in the hall. "What were you thinking? Screaming at Dad? Are you stupid? What's the point of making you Mayor if your such a bitch about it?" his oldest younger sister barked out.
"Get your ugly ass together! Seriously, what good are you to us other than our ticket to being Mayor?" ordered the blue and purple sister.
"Talking to Dad like that? Shut the eff up, Jojo, or I'll make you!" taunted the only red one.
"Stupid little shit, I'm seven years younger and I'm seven inches taller! What's the point of having such a wimpy little shit as Mayor?" pointed the Sally-clone sister out with vicious glee.
"Yeah! I mean like, you're the oldest and the son! You can get the only job that we want and you friggin' loose it? What's your deal, Jojo?" snapped the second oldest.
"Fuggin' retard needs to get his ass in gear!" mumbled the shortest – still taller than Jojo – as she rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, grow up, you idiot baby! Just bequeath your title to us! We'll take care of Whoville like it should be!" snarled the tallest of the seven with a grimace.
Jojo stared at the girls, his eyes void of all thought and emotion, making the girls squirm. He blinked slowly, his eyes hiding the rage and anger inside. "If you want it, take it. I'll give to you with free reign," he blithely told them.
Leaving them stunned, he slammed the door in their faces and decided to skip dinner. It wouldn't be worth the verbal abuse when they were outside of their parents' hearing range. Opening his window, he slid out and jumped, landing a little harder than he had wanted. Wincing as he stood, he trudged up to the tower with a rock in hand. Knowing only his father had come up here and that had been the one time, he felt relatively safe in his giant music room.
Tweaking one of the Whosafoons and stretching the use of the koptatunes, he felt himself relax and feel the comfort that music had brought him for the past several years. He sat back to hear some of the smaller instruments, a small smile on his face. He wasn't sure when it happened or how with the music quite loud, but he had fallen asleep on one of the drums. His mother stood over him with a relieved expression and a sad smile. Beside her was a pack, the contents near bulging the sides out.
"Good morning, Jojo," she near whispered. "I . . . I – um – oh, honey, I brought you some things, a few foods that won't go sour quickly as well as your grooming kit and . . . that stuff in your secret drawer."
Jojo jolted completely awake at this, his eyes wide. Sally did smile at his horrified expression. "No, baby, I didn't look. I just kind of felt around and stuffed it in the bag with my eyes closed. Other than the fact that I found it, I'm none the wiser for what's in it."
Jojo let out a relieved sigh. With a grunt as his tingly-sleep legs wobbled, he hugged his mother tight. "Thanks, Mom. You are the best."
Sally patted his cheek and caressed his hair to his shoulder in a motherly fashion. "I heard the girls yesterday and decided that this would be best. No one knows about this and your room is as neat as ever. A quick note left here for your father would be best since talking to him is no good."
Jojo felt like the weight of the world flew from his shoulders, near laughing in exuberance.
"Now, we need to hurry because the search party is coming closer," she mused, helping Jojo quiet the instruments with an expert touch. She was a mother to several children, after all. "The escape hatch to the tower is right here," she plucked a Who-sized cover from the wall to reveal a previously well guarded secret of a sorts. "Take it. I heard it goes all the way to the edge of Whoville. There, you should be able to use this." She handed him a fur dye. "It's temporary but lasts three weeks to a month. It will help throw people off looking for a gray and black Who."
Jojo's jaw dropped. Was his mother an escapee or what?
"Oh, don't look at me like that, honey. I'm just smarter than I let on. Makes me fell all snuggle-warm when I can get people back without their knowledge to which Who it was." She grinned deviously and ruffled his hair. "Now, through the hatch. You know what to do, baby." She kissed his forehead and hugged him tight, "I and your closest sisters will always love you, no matter what you hear. And if you need me, just write to me with the name Ciardha Dunn. I'll know it's you. The spelling and the meaning are in your bag for later. Love you, baby."
Jojo nodded as he hugged her tight before swinging into the escape hatch with his bag after him. "Love you, Mom," echoed back to Sally causing a tear to come to her eye. Her baby boy wasn't a baby anymore . . .
`'.,~*~,.'`
The three weeks had passed, no one the wiser that the kid on the edge of town was Jojo, Mayor's missing son. He was Ciardha Dunn. Kind of a mixed translation of Darkly Black. It suited since he was now a solid black and wore black contacts. No Who had ever been solid black but he was quickly accepted as he stayed mostly to himself. Tonight he was to finish what he had come to call runes, the scroll now covering the entirety of his torso and back, but never did he venture to his arms or legs again and only once to his face to put one mark on his cheek. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it felt right.
Looking over the scroll again, he pondered about the last rune, one that couldn't be fit on his chest or stomach or back. He sat and thought about it as the ink dried quickly, his brown eyes lazily flickering between the mirror and his own body. He twitched a toe, tapping it on the floor in a soft beat.
His head popped up, his body stilling. That was it! He could put it on the bottom of his foot! No one would think to look there! Not that he was thinking of why anyone would want to know, but the solution was logical to him on several levels. Left foot done, he nearly had the ink capped before a feeling swept up his spine like ice.
With a shaking hand, he painted the same mark on his left hand. Another graced the left side of his neck. Jojo wasn't sure why there was only one on his right side – his cheek – and three on the other, but now he felt balanced, centered, complete . . . whole. Flicking the cloth covered bracelet of hair on his left wrist he felt, for the first time, like he was happy, content. It was a drugging feeling that made him high with joy.
Turning to see his work in the mirror across from him in the bathing room, his eye widened in complete astonishment. There were worlds in conflicting images gracing the reflective surface, none the exact same and very few similar. In one, he saw Horton dancing with young beasts that he had never seen before, another was like looking into a volcano, the very air an acrid black. One featured a world similar to his own, a green creature amongst the Whos, and yet one with beings without any fur and lights of flashing color blinking by. There were many more, so many his head would spin, but these four were the clearest and largest within the looking glass.
He was up, striding determinedly into the bathroom to see more clearly, maybe figure out how it was that he saw the worlds within worlds. It was positively mind boggling and terrifying and yet . . . it was so exhilarating that he couldn't look away.
Jojo leaned forward, hand raised not to touch, but to see more clearly. Unfortunately, he discovered the clumsiness that existed in his family at the most inopportune time. He stumbled on the loose rug, hand going out to catch himself and landing on one of the worlds. Instead of catching on the mirror, his hand, then arm went through . . . the rest of him following milliseconds later to his startled yelp.
`'.,~*~,.'`
Harry was doing all he could to clean the bathroom, scrubbing the toilet vigorously. Grimwauld place was not very nice to live in, no, and filthier than anything the almost OCD cleaning addict could stand, but he would have a clean bathroom come hell or high water! It helped that he was subtly using his magic to speed the process up. A sparkling clean toilet later allowed him to scrub out the shower-tub and sink with relative ease. Only the mirror gave him any difficulties and that was more due to the old and now unreliable spells worked into the glass. Actually, they were near nonexistent but small traces were there and causing gunk to stick like glue.
Wiping his brow on his sleeve, he grinned in satisfaction that the bathing room was finally restored to a manageable state of cleanliness. However, the rippling surface had him wondering if he should have used his magic to speed along the clean up as the worry in his gut told him this was . . . well, not unnatural but unusual. Unnatural came with just being a wizard so that instinct had all but curled up and went to sleep. Instinctive hibernation at its best.
The hand that came through the mirror let on that more than he could see was happening and he moved out of the way and into the shower-tub. Just in time too, since a body came tumbling out, being flung into the opposite wall like a rag doll. A naked doll . . . oh boy.
"Ugh," came a muffled cry from the person, Harry feeling his compassion welling up but gently tempered by his Slytherin mindset.
Still. "Are you okay?" he asked the pained figure softly. The dark haired person lifted rich chocolate eyes to his own vibrant green, the hair long and near covering the person entirely. All he got was an impression of translucent skin shrouded in dark softly curling waves of thick hair framing a heart-shaped face and large brilliantly brown eyes before banging began.
"Harry! Are you alright, me boyo?" bellowed a familiar voice. Harry felt panic fill him. How did he hide a naked person who had fallen out of a mirror not even a minute ago?
"Aye, listen to 'im. Are yeh alright?" trumpeted another voice, the mate to the first. Fred and George. Merlin! He was doomed! Doooooom—Oh, that could work.
"Get in the tub and turn on the shower. Hurry!" he hissed to his smaller companion. The boy – the evidence was a little too bare not to notice – hobbled on stiff yet rubbery legs to the tub, pulling the curtain closed once inside. "What do you bloody well want?" Harry snipped to those outside.
"Why, to make sure-"
"Our favorite boyo-"
"Is well and-"
"Sexy as always!"
Harry blinked and shook his head. Those two made his brain hurt. "I'm fine, Fred, George. Nothing but a small trip into the wall. Bashed my elbow but I think I'll live," he mused aloud. The two whined for a minute or two before barging in anyway, Harry down to his trousers that were unzipped. Fred had his wash bag in one hand while George carried a few towels.
Grinning like loons, Fred held up the wash bag. "If you're taking a shower, aren't you forgetting something?" he asked with a grin. Harry rolled his eyes.
"If I left my wash things where you two could get a hold of it, why would I use those wash things?"
Fred shared a look with his twin. "You mean to tell us," George started. "That this is not your wash bag?"
Harry grinned deviously. "I didn't say that, I just asked why I would use tampered products when I could have replacements."
Taking advantage of their brains being bent by someone "out thinking" them, he grabbed both bag and towels, shooing them off and locking the door behind them. He heaved a sigh as he rested on the door, rolling his eyes when the twins demanded to be let back in. "Not a chance, so go away. I generally shower alone . . . and most especially without you two clowns to spell or hex me at every turn."
Sure that the two wouldn't barge in, he walked calmly to the bath, expecting to see something . . . just not this. The silent person – for other than the yelp they had not said a word – was staring in shock at his hands and arms, patting himself down in desperation as tears filled his eyes and near finished their journey down his cheeks. Harry grabbed the frantic hands in his own as he stepped out of his trousers and into the bath with his boxers creating a private barrier. "Shh, shhhh, calm down," he murmured softly as he wrapped his arms around the terrified and shivering boy. The warm water streamed over them as they carelessly ignored it, steam forming on the freshly cleaned glass mirror. "Now, tell me if you can what is wrong. I won't judge you nor will I tell you to leave." Harry tilted the chin of the boy up. "I won't turn you away when you need help."
Lips trembled and eyes shimmered. Jojo had never felt so terrified and alone before . . . and now he had no fur. And his hair! It was so long he could nearly stand on it! This was so wrong . . . so horribly and completely wrong and no one knew what was going on!
The male in front of him tugged him deeper into a hug, the taller boy giving comfort where he could. "Sh, now," he murmured into Jojo's hair as he rocked them under the warm spray. Jojo felt himself shiver for no reason at all and wrapped his thin arms around the figure giving him comfort. "I – I, I wanna go back home but I don't know how," he wobbled out in sadly horrified tones. "I had painted runes on, because it felt right, and now . . . I'm here and not there and, and, and-"
The one called Harry closed his mouth for him, the greenest eyes of any being he had ever seen smiling at him. "I'll help you."
Those three words might have been nothing to anyone else, but to Jojo, they were like warmth made solid as he gripped harder, tighter to his new comfort. "Thank you."
Nodding his head lightly, Harry set about grabbing his washing things, holding up the shampoo for Jojo. "Do you need help washing your hair?"
Jojo nodded. "Please?"
It, and everything else, ended up being embarrassing in the extreme but also too nice to ever forget. Jojo almost wished for it to continue but he knew better. Once he was found out, the being in front of him would have nothing to do with him. However . . . he had to try.
Harry helped Jojo dry the long hair, taking his brush to the strands from the bottom up. He had traded his soaked boxers for one of the towels and sat comfortably on the toilet lid. "Do you want to tell me or should we wait a bit?"
Jojo shivered and something caught Harry's eye. It had only flashed across his skin for a second, but black scroll work had danced all over his back, buttocks, and in bands around his arms and legs. "I – I'm not what you are, what ever it is you are," came like a soft breeze, small and nearly ignored but noticed. Harry was glad for his sharp hearing. "I am not even sure what you are, but I am a Who. I have fur all over, black and gray stripes, and a short bob cut of hair. I . . . I don't know what happened, but when I touched the mirror with all the worlds within worlds . . . I fell."
Harry felt himself wondering how when he saw the marks become more visible, lasting longer. "Did you . . . did you ever figure out what those runes mean?" Harry pondered as he slid the brush the length of the hair. Deftly finishing, he seized the long curtain of silk to wrap into a thick braid. "Did you read the words on whatever you had gotten them from?"
Jojo shrugged. "Most of the words had crumbled with age. Only the runes seemed to have survived mostly intact. It seemed wrong – felt wrongto leave it that way. When an ink unlike anything we had ever seen found its way to Whoville, I bought it and used it to do the runes. It was first on my arm to see if it would make me sick or hurt, but I had felt nothing more than slightly drained yet invigorated."
Wrapping the end of the braid with a string from his discarded pant's pocket, he held Jojo from behind as the marks made themselves visibly known. Jojo gasped upon seeing his entire body more-or-less covered in the strange black of the ink. "I think, that when you use too much power, they fade. But when your magical core isn't drained so badly, or your body interfered with from an outside source, they show up. See?"
He let go and the marks faded to almost nothing, but when he held Jojo, they flared darkly against the delicate looking skin. Jojo nodded. "Then . . . you have magic?" he turned to look at Harry over his shoulder, richly dark brown eyes peering at him warmly. "Can you get me home?"
Harry shook his head. "Not now. In this world magic is restricted and kept under law. I loathe it, feel the strangle hold the Ministry has put on natural magics, but I must go with it for now."
Jojo gave a violent shiver. Harry held tighter, warming his back and shoulders and giving comfort. "I-" he fell silent for a moment as words tumbled through his head, determinedly pushing to be released form his mouth. "I am here t-to fix the magic, to free it, and recreate a balance." His hand shot to his mouth as the words poured forth, fear spiking up his spine.
Harry stood, hugging Jojo as close as he could. That was not something that this person would say on a whim. You didn't have to know him well to see this. "You know, we don't even know each others name. I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."
Jojo chuckled softly at such a name. Oh, the irony. "I'm Jojo McDodd. A pleasure, I'm sure." Harry tilted his head, Jojo fighting the need to giggle like a girl. What was it about Harry that made him so relaxed and easy? "So . . . what are you? I'm a Who, that you already know, from Whoville which is somewhere-"
"Through the looking glass? I'll have to give you a book to read one day," Harry mused aloud. "I am a human, or homosapien. This is Earth and we are somewhere in London, England. My school is in Scotland . . . somewhere."
Jojo looked at Harry hard. "Just how big is this Earth?"
Harry mused for a second on just how large the world was. "Large enough to hold five-to-six billion people?"
Eyes bugging and jaw at his knees, Jojo stared at Harry in absolute awed disbelief. After ten seconds and no response, Harry chuckled and shut Jojo's jaw for him. "No catching flies like that. S'not healthy."
Peeking out the door, Harry saw no one as he sneaked Jojo to the room beside his and Ron's. His disgust over the filth of the place a guest was to stay in was the final straw. "That's it. That. Is. It! Dobby? Winky? I need some help!"
The two elves popped in, one in fluorescent green and yellow and the other slightly drunk and swaying in her pink dress. Harry observed them, feeling horrible that Winky was still suffering. "I need you two to clean this room and all the bedrooms. If you need help, call for it. I know a little on how the system works and I don't mind at all. If you see Kreacher, get him to help. Tell him it is to restore his Mistress's honor by presenting even the filthy humans with the grandeur of Grimmauld place."
Dobby squealed and went to work right away, forgetting to hug Harry since this was so enjoyable. Winky seemed to snap out of her stupor as she screeched – quietly, mind you – at the utter filth around her. "I's clean dis up right now!" she declared.
Harry stood with a too quiet Jojo, watching as the two elves worked. "These, Jojo, are House Elves. They love cleanliness and to clean and love having the hardest of projects delegated to them. Kind of like setting a kid loose in an amusement park with an all-day pass to every ride."
Jojo finally did something, chuckling at the small elves that made even his former self seem tall. "They're so tiny!"
Harry laughed. "Yeah, my first thought too . . . other than the tennis ball eyes. That was kind of the creep-me-out point."
In twenty minutes, everything was clean, the sheets exchanged from who knows where and the bed cleansed of all things Dark, dirty, or living. All of the Dark items were separated, a few disposed of, and up high where none of the young humans could reach without extreme difficulty. Harry grinned at the satisfied elves before prompting them on. "Can you do Ron's and my room next? Then Ginny and Hermione?"
Winky snapped her fingers and four more elves came to be with pops of air. "You two, Ginny and Mione's room. You, next room over. You, Twin Gingers' room. I's get the living room with Dobby." Like a little army sergeant, Winky had them all hopping to do what she asked. Harry wondered briefly how she knew about the others, but that is like asking an elf how they know to fix something special at certain tables in the Great Hall. They just did. It was their special brand of magic.
"Thank you, Winky, Dobby. This is more than I imagined."
Dobby threw himself on Harry, hugging him tight. "You'z is the bestest master wizard ever!" he sobbed into Harry's knees. Harry sighed and patted the small elf on the head to what suspiciously sounded like giggles from his companion. Winky ended up pulling him away to help finish their new job of cleaning, popping from the room in an instant with Dobby's ear in her long fingers.
Harry shook his head and waited for Jojo to take in the quite beautiful room, the crystal lights and deeply rich blue flecked with what looked like stars making him wonder if the room was enchanted like the Great Hall's ceiling. The floor was a soft, fluffy black that balanced the white of the furniture nicely, the white and gray comforter on the bed a near perfect match. "Here you are, Jojo. Your new room for a while."
Jojo nodded his thanks, his eyes overlooking every thing to see the moon seamlessly slide onto the wall in its ascent. Harry left him, closing the door with a sigh. Towel nearly falling off, he walked down just a short way to his room, nearly jumping from his skin when Moody stepped from the shadows. "What have ya got, boy?"
Harry stared at the ex-Auror hard, his mind working a million miles an hour. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he blatantly lied with a confused frown. Moody laughed, his dry reed sound grating on Harry's suddenly fraying nerves.
"Don't give me that. There's a boy in that room just there," he pointed with a gnarled finger. "What I wanna know is what you are going to do with him and if it will affect your mind."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Paranoid old bastard. He's from the Looking Glass, if you understand." Moody's real eye went wide. "Yeah, I saw it, no tricks. Tomorrow, if you can spare someone to disguise me well enough, I'll take Jojo with me to get some clothes. He had none and mine are shite. And, Moody . . . Dumbledore can't know any of this. He'd use or loose Jojo and I will not stand for it."
Moody looked at Potter hard. "I think that boy gave you a backbone, Potter. Don't loose it."
Harry shrugged before sliding into his room and slapping on some of his clothes for the night. Grabbing up some extra, he went back to Jojo's room. A knock had a brown eye staring at him curiously. "Want something to sleep in?"
Jojo's face went red as he noticed, after all the shock and wonder, that he truly was naked, no fur or wraps to keep him from view. Harry gave a small smile as he handed through a large shirt. "I know the feeling."
`'.,~*~,.'`
Harry decided morning came too soon, Hermione setting upon the two sleeping males with a vengeance to help clean and do this and do that and blah, blah, blah. A brilliant witch she may be, but a social or even comfortable friend she was not. Bloody book worm.
"Harry? Harry! Have you finished your homework? Oh, you need to right away! School starts in less than a month!"
Harry palmed his face as he trudged down the stairs for breakfast, grabbing toast, bacon, and two glasses of milk. Hermione tried to keep him at her side, grabbing his shirt tails roughly. "Mione, let me the bloody fuck go," he bit out at the girl in acid tones. She was too stunned not to and her fingers uncurled just as quickly as they had snatched. "Thank you."
Climbing the stairs, he knocked on Jojo's door, the small Who-turned-human blinking blearily from the other side of the door. Harry pushed in, setting breakfast on the bedside table as he looked Jojo over. He seemed fine, just not a morning person. Harry could sympathize but after breakfast, they would have to get going. "Come on, sleepy head, breakfast before our little shopping spree. We'll have Moody transfigure your shirt into something more appropriate to wear in public. Going out in just a tee like that would invite people to try something and I might get in trouble for hexing them senseless."
Jojo shook his drowsy head, munching on bacon as it was handed to him along with toast and a large glass of milk. "Where are we going?" he murmured as he plucked at the hem of the overly-large shirt.
"Muggle London. Then Diagon Alley. I'll have to wear a hat or something to be less noticeable, though. Even if I doubt that would work . . ." Harry grimaced as he waved it off. Plotting could wait until after breakfast.