Gary Oak and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Summary: ? During-HP3 (AU), Post-Johto League
Notes on OOC-ness: Make sure you keep in mind how much Gary grew up after the Sinnoh and Johto League Tournaments-and how much he stayed the same haha.
Chapter Zero - Blood Protection
Albus Dumbledore's Mistake?
Minerva McGonagall trusted her old professor and employer, Headmaster Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore, inexplicably. When even some of his most loyal followers faltered and doubted him, she was right there fighting for his sake, reminding them of this and that and Dumbledore is one of the wisest people in the modern age whether they be muggle or magical—why doubt him or his ways, no matter how strange they may seem?
However, even she was slightly concerned (alright, deeply concerned) when she heard what he planned to do with their precious Savior, the recently dubbed Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter.
"Albus, are you absolutely sure this is best?" she asked in a hushed whisper, aware even through her apprehension and near anger that the dear baby was sleeping in the basket on the table between the two colleagues. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they often did as he hummed lightly, finishing off the letter he was writing.
"Quite sure, Minerva," he said cheerfully even as he, too, kept his voice down. "After all, it wouldn't do to put young Harry here in a dangerous situation, now, would it?"
This caused McGonagall to huff lightly, a frown etching itself into her gently lined face. "It's likely he'll end up in a dangerous situation anyway!"
Dumbledore frowned slightly in return, sealing his letter in a thick envelope with wax and the seal of Hogwarts.
"The spell I am planning to use will prevent that," he said evenly, his smile slipping back into place.
"You haven't even told us—" McGonagall paused and abruptly lowered her voice from a hoarse shout to a harsh whisper when Harry stirred slightly within his makeshift crib. "Albus, you have yet to tell even me what this 'spell' you're planning to use is or what it is going to do!"
"Ah, is that the source of your worries?" Dumbledore's smile widened and he chuckled, causing McGonagall to visibly restrain herself from doing something rash. 'Is that the source' indeed! "Well, you should have just said so!"
"I did," hissed McGonagall lightly, barely able to keep her temper in check. It wasn't often that Dumbledore was the source of such anger, but when he was, it was hard to hold her back.
Dumbledore himself either didn't notice or ignored the danger, nodding and humming in agreement. "Right, of course," he said, making it sound like he didn't believe her. McGonagall ground her teeth in agitation and carefully counted backwards from twenty before he continued. "The spell I am using, Minerva, my dear, is one that will place a Blood Protection on young Harry, then transport him to the place where it will best hold while best keeping him safe from sources both magical and non."
McGonagall's newly-calm face paled slightly. "Blood Magic?! Albus, you have truly lost your mind!" Both professors abruptly stopped their conversation when little Harry stirred within his basket, cooing lightly, before he settled down again with a content sigh. A few more moments of tense silence followed before the conversation resumed with a further lowered volume, making Minerva's sigh all the louder when it escaped her. "Blood Magic is dangerous and unpredictable, Albus, you know this as well as I do—most likely more so! Blood Magic is what caused Salazaar Slytherin's descent into the Dark Arts, what gave Voldemort whatever bastardized immortality he possesses!"
His smile gone, Dumbledore abruptly interrupted the Deputy Headmistress, tone sharp. "It is also what has allowed Hogwarts to survive for so long without fear of being destroyed, by muggles or otherwise!"
A deafening silence followed these words as Dumbledore's face slowly softened.
"Minerva, we have little choice," he said softly and with a barely-stifled sigh. "This Protection will do what I myself cannot—make the best choice for protection and happiness during Harry's future."
McGonagall was stunned into silence and was unable to comment as Dumbledore put the envelope into Harry's basket, smiling softly and sadly at the child. He leaned forward a fraction when this was done and gently brushed thin wisps of brown-black hair from Harry's forehead, briefly bringing light to the lightning bolt scar he had received mere hours before.
"Good luck, Harry..." He raised his wand. "Sanguis Protegas Ad Sanguis!"
With these final words, brilliant white light spilt forth from Dumbledore's wand and surrounded Harry's basket, swallowing him from sight.
When it cleared, the basket, the letter, and the baby were all gone.
HPPKMN
There was no way for Dumbledore to know what had happened to the Savior known as Harry Potter that faithful night when he cast the spell for the ultimate Protection. He assumed that the boy had gone to his aunt's house, although he couldn't be too sure and didn't dare check for fear of someone being able to force him to reveal the location through Verasium. Then again, he also assumed Tom Riddle was redeemable and that the Protection spell he had cast revolved around blood in the literal sense, so perhaps he was not the best authority on this matter.
Thus it would be quite a surprise for the Headmaster to learn that Harry somehow had the grace to end up on a whole other plane of existence—right in front of a Legendary creature, thought by many to be a mere myth and powerful beyond belief.
After her vision finally cleared, the Legendary Pokémon known as Celebi blinked her large blue eyes, the black rims and lids making it seem like they were swallowed up before magically reappearing on her face. Yup, it was still there—the Hume hatchling with thin strands over its head wrapped in a "blanket" and surrounded by an aura of calm was still sleeping soundly in the odd carrying case it had appeared in.
Tilting her head, Celebi drifted a bit closer, making a cooing noise of surprise when she saw Hume writing on the strange material in the Hume's hand. She couldn't read it, of course (Celebi was the type to avoid Humes as much as possible, having seen the worst of the older ones many times in her long life), but she got the sense that it was important. She got the same sense from the Hume hatchling, as well. It urged her to protect the Hume at all costs. Maybe it had to do with that "maternal instinct" Suicune occasionally went on about not having...?
Either way, Celebi was a Legendary Pokémon, not a hatchlingsitter. She had no idea what to do with a Hume as young as this. But that didn't change the fact that she could find someone who could.
Thus it was with determination in her large heart that Celebi gently picked up the basket in her frail-looking hands and flew off towards the large concentration of Good Will she had often felt from the next Land for many years in succession. And as she flew, Celebi silently made a vow to protect this Hume hatchling for the rest of her existence.
And so the years passed...
And passed...
And passt...
And past...
And the past became the future.
…
Chapter One - Silly Celebi!
The Repercussions of Time-Travel
Professor Samuel Oak was a rather rational man, as evidenced by his title. Things always had a rhyme and a reason no matter how impossible-sounding, and everything was always in its rightful place. His grandchildren would do things that were aggravating and sometimes almost impossible to give him a heart attack, along with everyone else from Pallet Town, because whatever god was out there wanted him to die at a young age. See, rhyme and reason.
This was one of those things that were being done:
"Gary! Wh-why are you-what are you—WHY ARE YOU HANGING OFF THE SIDE OF A CLIFF?" Oak half-shouted, half-sobbed in anime disbelief and incredulousness. For his part, Gary glanced up over the lip of the ledge he was holding on to and rolled his eyes with all the arrogance of a young child.
"Geez, Gramps, breathe," the teen said in a tone that was a mix between amused, exasperated, and annoyed. "I'm just checking on the Pidgey nest down here. Wanted to make sure they were getting on okay since their dad got captured. Besides, it's not like I'm going to die or anything—Ferrow is circling down below to catch me if I fall."
Oak made a noise of disbelief and sighed, pulling back from leaning over the cliff face to sit on his legs and rub at his face. "'Not like I'm going to die or anything', he says...maybe you won't die, but keep giving me scares like that and I just might!"
Gary snorted at that and rolled his eyes again. "You're a tough old guy, Gramps. You're not gunna die any time soon."
"So you say," muttered Oak, slowly raising himself into a standing position and wincing as his back gave an impressive 'pop.' He turned away from the cliff, satisfied his grandson wasn't making a suicide attempt, and shook his head in disbelief. "I swear, these kids will be the death of me...hmm?"
A loud crack interrupted Oak's monolog and he stared curiously in the direction of his lab. He could have sworn...was that the sound of two Pokémon fighting? If it were, Bulbasaur would investigate...but what if it was Team Rocket, again, doing another one of their hair-brained schemes (which amused Oak more than worried him if it was the team that often followed Ash, but was deadly serious if it was one of the other ones)? There was only so long Pokémon raised to follow a Trainer would last if left alone.
Oak was off and running in an instant, making his way towards the labs and pausing only a moment to question Bulbasaur—whom he had conveniently run in to—before the Pokémon joined his trip. It would seem that there was no sign of any trouble with the others, which lead to the assumption that Team Rocket was to blame for the loud crack. That or one of the buildings was falling down; yes, that was actually pretty close to the sound he had heard...
When Oak finally arrived at the front door of his labs, he was panting heavily, one hand clutching his heart and the other resting on his knee as he tried to regain his breath. Tired dark green eyes scanned the area before settling on two men standing in front of his door, watching both himself and presumably Bulbasaur with surprise and interest.
"Hullo there!" the elder of the two men cheerfully greeted in a slightly foreign accent. He was older than Oak by quite a bit, his face heavily lined with smiles and frowns past, and his hair and impressive beard fell past his waist, carefully groomed despite the length. He had a grandfatherly visage that Oak could appreciate and blue eyes that twinkled merrily. The only thing that could even possibly put Oak off was the rather gaudy dark purple suit the man was wearing, complete with a lighter purple undershirt and a dark blue tie that featured yellow stars on it.
"Er...hello," Oak responded after he regained his breath, straightening up with a slight, welcoming smile. He wasn't one to judge people solely on appearances but since Bulbasaur wasn't reacting other than to gaze curiously upon the newcomers, he thought that things were rather safe. Bulbasaur had developed quite the trouble-radar after a year of working in the fields, after all. "Sorry about my appearance; I heard a loud crack and thought perhaps there was something wrong...do you know what that might have been?"
"No idea," the elder man cheerfully said. Next to him, his companion made a slight noise, but didn't visibly do anything more than arch a single eyebrow at Oak. He was slightly taller than the elder man, with pale skin that sharply contrasted slightly oily-looking black hair Oak identified as being a result of a genetic defect and glittering black eyes that hid any emotion the man might have shown. He was wearing simple black slacks and a black long-sleeved shirt, a silver chain hanging around his neck before hiding behind his shirt being the only bit of jewelry either of the two had.
"Ah." Oak blinked once then glanced at Bulbasaur, whom ducked his head in his version of a little shrug. His eyes quickly returned to the two men and he smiled kindly. "I'm sorry. It must have been someone in town doing some sort of work." He moved closer to the two men, Bulbasaur still trailing behind him, and cheerfully went on. "May I help you two?"
"Perhaps." The elder man paused, looked at his companion, then returned his gaze to Oak. "If you don't mind, may we ask your name?"
Oak's smile brightened at once. He always found it amazing when people didn't know who he was and it was always a relief that they weren't merely visiting because of his celebrity status. Crowds and occasionally strangers made him rather nervous. "Oh! I apologize." He held out his hand. "My name is Professor Samuel Oak. It's nice to meet you."
Both men seemed rather taken aback, but the elder's eyes soon began twinkling merrily, and he took Oak's hand in both of his own much more wrinkled ones.
"What a coincidence," he cheerfully said, "I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of a boarding school known as Hogwarts and this is my school's, ah, chemistry teacher, Professor Severus Snape."
Oak blinked in surprise before chuckling. "Nice to meet you, Professors," he said, recognition at one of the names gently tickling his mind. He carefully tucked away the memories that arose until later on, but before he could comment:
"Bulba?" Bulbasaur croaked in a curious voice. Both Professors looked startled at the sound/word but Oak merely let out a noise of recognition and smiled apologetically at his companion.
"I'm sorry, Bulbasaur; I often forget Ash never went to an actual school." Oak chuckled slightly at the thought before raising a finger pointedly. "Professors are not merely people who study and know much about Pokémon; they are also teachers who instill knowledge with others. It's much like how so many people come to visit us to ask about Pokémon behaviors, but a school has many different teachers and many different subjects, not merely Pokémon. Math, science, reading..."
Bulbasaur seemed to understand and smiled, bobbing his head in a nod, before he glanced behind himself and blinked.
"My ramblings are nowhere near as important as your duties, of course," chuckled Oak again. "Feel free to run off and share your new knowledge with the others. I'll be inside with Daisy and Bayleef."
"Bulba, saur!" was Bulbasaur's reply with another nod. The Pokémon quickly turned around and bounded off into the forested area of Oak's lab, soon disappearing from sight.
Oak turned back towards his visitors and smiled slightly at the looks on their faces. "Please, come join me inside. It's almost tea time and my granddaughter makes the most excellent jasmine tea you could even imagine."
Dumbledore happily agreed to the terms and Snape inclined his head slightly before the two followed Oak into his lab, gazing around with curiosity at the large amount of Pokémon-study-related technology in the main room before Oak lead them through a back door into his private quarters. As a sharp contrast, this room was much more homely and soft, with simple walls covered in pictures of Oak's family and friends, a large comfortable couch, Oak's favorite black-felt chair, and a simple television with a phone attached for emergency calls.
"Grandpa?" called a feminine voice from a side doorway without a door. Oak smiled as his granddaughter walked into the room, blinking at the newcomers.
"Come here, Daisy," he kindly called. The twelve-year-old padded over and gazed curiously at Oak's companions, although she smiled when Oak gently gave her a hug before turning his attention back to his guests. "Professors, this is my granddaughter, Daisy Oak. Daisy, these are some new acquaintances of mine, Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape."
Daisy smiled shyly and pulled closer to her grandfather before giving a soft-voiced greeting, her noticeably brighter green eyes wide but trusting. "It's nice to meet you, Sirs. Um, would you like some tea as well...? I'm making some for Grandpa right now."
"Tea would be lovely," Dumbledore assured the girl. Daisy's shy smile widened and she ducked her head before pulling out of Oak's arms and quickly darting into the kitchen, humming slightly. Oak gestured towards the couch, entreating his guests to sit, and only sat down in his own chair with a relieved sigh after they had done such.
A silence that was only mildly uncomfortable descended upon the group for a little while before Daisy carried a tea tray into the room, setting it on the table between the couch, the TV, and the chair Oak was currently occupying.
"Grandpa, I have to go back home now," Daisy said with a warm smile for her relative. "I promised Tracy I'd help him find some new Pokémon to sketch; there's a rumor that someone saw a scruffy-looking Pidgeotto just outside of town! I'll be back tonight for dinner, okay?"
"Of course," Oak said just as warmly in return. "Thank you for the tea, Daisy. Be careful, okay? And make sure you stay near Tracy at all times."
Daisy bobbed her head before politely saying goodbye to the two Professors and nearly skipping out the door. After it had closed, Oak nodded to his companions and began fixing his tea.
"Now then...what brings you to Pallet Town, Professors, if I may ask? We're not exactly known for tourism in these parts."
"We're here looking for someone, actually," Dumbledore admitted with a smile, adding a copious amount of sugar his own tea, Oak's tired eyes quickly noted. If he put that much sugar into everything, Oak mused to himself with quite a bit of mirth, it was a medical miracle the man had survived for so long. "About thirteen years ago, there was a tragedy within our town. Two wonderful parents died and their child was placed elsewhere for protection. We have reason to believe he ended up here."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Oak said compassionately. "I know how hard it is when you lose those who are close to you..." The man's normally strong voice trailed off and he shook his head before taking a sip of tea, his tone noticeably more cheerful when he went on. "Perhaps you can tell me his name? I've lived here my whole life and I know nearly everyone; my brother is even the mayor of the town."
Dumbledore looked at Oak for a long moment and the younger of the two got the strong feeling he was being tested. But his green gaze was steady upon the other man's blue one, ignoring the tingle that was on the edge of his mind, as if an Abra was unsuccessfully trying to read it. Lord knew it had happened often enough.
Soon, Dumbledore smiled again. "His name," the man replied, "is Harry. Harry James Potter."
Minutely, Oak's eyes widened before they went back to normal, and he smiled as well. "I'm afraid there's no one named 'Harry James Potter' in this part of the world," he admitted. "I'm very sorry."
"You're lying," Snape suddenly said, speaking for the first time. His glittering black eyes were narrowed and his silky-deep voice caused Oak to blink in mild surprise. "You've at least heard the name before."
Oak paused only a moment. "...I have."
"Where?" asked Dumbledore eagerly. Oak shifted his gaze between the two Professors for a long moment before he sighed, slowly getting to his feet.
"I'll be right back," he said with all the weariness of his years before retreating into the kitchen and up the stairs that connected to his lab attic. He walked through the dusty room, pausing in front of an old trunk, nostalgia flowing through him. He opened it up and gazed silently at the contents for a long moment.
'So this is what it's come to,' he thought with a slight, sad grin. 'Well. We shall see what results, hmm, my dear friend?'
Just as Oak was reaching for the trunk's contents, a loud shout of surprise and a familiar Pokémon cry made Oak jerk his head towards the door. He quickly gathered what he needed, running down the stairs and wrapping what he had taken in a blanket he had also grabbed, only to stop in the doorway of his lab's living room in shock.
A laugh escaped Oak's throat as he took in the scene of Bayleef half-laying on top of Snape, sprawled out awkwardly on the ground with a scowl in place and his hair and clothes horribly mussed, Bayleef cooing happily over him and nuzzling the poor man with her head.
"Looks like Bayleef has taken a liking to you, Professor Snape," Oak said with an unhidden chuckle despite Snape's warning/glaring look. "You must have quite the way with the ladies."
Snape's cheeks took on an interesting pink shade, causing both Oak and Dumbledore to chuckle again, before Oak turned his attention to Bayleef and clicked his tongue.
"C'mon, Bayleef, don't squish the poor man. He's a guest."
"Bay, bay!" cheered Bayleef, jumping off of Snape before running over and nuzzling her head instead into Oak's side. Oak grinned at her and patted her head before turning his attention back to Snape, who was slowly getting up off the floor with the occasional grimace of pain.
"You'll have to excuse Bayleef," he said, trying not to laugh again if for no other reason than to protect the raven-haired man's pride. "She's a bit...eccentric, but she really means no harm. Actually, her doing that highly suggests she likes you."
"That's a first," Snape irritably mumbled, finally on both legs. He shot a warning look at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling brightly in amusement, before carefully settling himself back on the couch. Bayleef made a noise rather like a giggle from her spot next to Oak.
"I assume you have something to show us?" Dumbledore plainly asked, gazing curiously at the bundle under Oak's arm. Oak's hand paused on Bayleef's head, and reddish-gold eyes gazed at him in notable concern.
"Baaaay?" Bayleef asked curiously and worriedly. Oak flashed her a private smile of assurance before making his way back to his chair, cradling the bundle carefully. Bayleef followed behind and lay at his feet, her head in his lap as she gazed up at him with surprisingly mournful eyes. "Baay..."
"I'm fine," Oak verbally reassured the Pokémon, reaching out and gently petting her head with two fingers. Bayleef smiled slightly and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, and kept them closed after Oak pulled away to gently open the bundle. Dumbledore and Snape both watched with rapt attention as a severely yellowed and brittle-looking envelope was revealed, loopy handwriting on the front reading,
To Whom It May Concern
With a certain care, Oak opened the envelope, feeling two sets of eyes trained rather firmly on him. He retracted an equally-yellowed and brittle-looking piece of paper, although it was slightly less likely to spontaneously fall apart than the envelope, and when he unfolded it, he read aloud:
To whom it may concern:
If you are a muggle, or in other words someone who has never seen magic first-hand, there is another letter enclosed with this which you should read before this one. If not, or if you are already done with that letter, then I must ask you to listen to my plea.
The child within this basket is young Harry James Potter. On this morning of Friday October 31st, at precisely 2:53:07 AM, a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle—also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort (Snape flinched just slightly)—attacked his home. His mother and father were both killed by the unstoppable Killing Curse, which does as the name suggests. However, when Tom reached Harry and fired off that same curse, it was stopped before backfiring spectacularly upon him. Harry is the first to do this in the known history of the Wizarding World. This extraordinary feat is a cause for celebration, for as you read in the other letter or know for yourself, "Lord Voldemort" (again, Snape flinched) was a menace to every innocent in England-and, in fact, the entirety of the world. But this same feat also resulted in many enemies for young Harry, who cannot effectively defend himself. This is why I cast a spell upon him to ensure his survival.
Whether you are male or female, magical or muggle, human or demon, I find myself uncaring. The spell used upon Harry, one of Blood Protection, has deemed you the best person to protect him from things magical or otherwise. I beg of you to allow him to live as a normal child within your world, and not inform him of what has happened until he is old enough to understand. A teacher from my school, Hogwarts, will arrive in less than ten years' time so Harry may be able to conduct his magical education.
The fate of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, now rests with you.
Oak paused here, then read the signature, his voice soft but firm, "'Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster,' et al."
There was a long moment of silence. Snape was gazing at Dumbledore, an expression of slight incredulousness on his face. Dumbledore was gazing at Bayleef, his eyes slightly misty. Bayleef was staring at Oak, concerned and slightly upset. And Oak was staring at the letter, his own eyes misty as well—but for notably different reasons than Dumbledore.
"I knew who you were the moment you introduced yourself, and why you were here, Professor Dumbledore," Oak said in a voice that was barely more than a hoarse whisper. "But you are here a bit late."
"Four years too late," Dumbledore somberly agreed, gaze still somewhere around Bayleef's back. "Although the state of that letter suggests it was much longer."
"Harry James Potter..." Oak's voice was almost wistful as he read it, then he raised his gaze to the Professors. "The true Harry James Potter...he died, nearly thirty-five years ago."
Snape's back suddenly straightened, his eyes wide with some unknown emotion, and Dumbledore slowly bowed his head so he was looking at the hands folded in his lap. A single drop of water fell onto those hands.
"You're joking," Snape accused, sounding almost the same as Oak had shortly after reading Dumbledore's name. "Surely, you're joking."
"I am not," Oak firmly said, eyes on Snape with renowned strength. "He died shortly before my grandchildren's father was born."
Snape's face was bleached white at the implications of that, while Dumbledore continued to silently stare at his hands.
"Dead...Lily's son..." whispered Snape before reaching up and running a hand down his face. He half-collapsed back into the couch and closed his eyes. "Lily's son is...and the Prophecy...it was all..."
"Prophecy?" echoed Oak with a frown. The death no longer affected him as deeply as it once had and he was able to quickly return to track, but it was obvious the two Professors would take some time to absorb this. Oak re-folded the letter with great care and slowly slipped it into the envelope, which he again wrapped in his blanket, before setting it on the table next to his now-cold tea. His hand found its way to Bayleef's head and the Pokémon cooed protectively, having not yet bothered to move.
"There was a Prophecy, pertaining to Harry," Dumbledore said when he could compose himself, eyes raising and locking with Oak's. A steeliness shone behind those blue orbs when he solemnly recited what was presumably the prophecy: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Oak remained silent for a long moment, mulling over the prophecy. Then he slowly began to voice his thoughts.
"That prophecy is rather vague," he muttered mostly to himself, although he was aware both Professors and Bayleef had their attentions on him. "'Born as the seventh month dies' could refer to any time after July fifteenth, or any time in September, since 'sept' literally means 'seven' in the Ancient Language...but if we go by the lunar calendar, then it could be between the seventh and eighth full moon, which would be late June early July.
"On top of that," he continued, gaze rising to the ceiling, "'thrice defied him' could refer to any defiance, whether or not it was known. Living...denying the fact he exists...being alive despite the odds...refusing to join him...even one of his presumed followers could be the subject of the prophecy, if they disobeyed him, intentionally or not.
"And marking 'him as his equal'...could happen any time, past or future. Not to mention the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' could be anything from a special ability to simply a connection that this Voldemort" (Snape noticeably didn't flinch this time) "knows nothing about."
Suddenly, Oak fell silent, realization dawning upon him. No way...there was no way...was there? His genius mind whirled, running through the facts. He had listed them himself.
"'Born as the seventh month dies,'" he whispered, slightly shocked, "such as September 29th. 'Thrice defied him' such as living despite the odds, not knowing about Voldemort's very existence, and denying all things magic in favor of science. 'Power the Dark Lord knows not' such as...Pokémon..."
"Bay!" shouted Bayleef in recognition, springing to her feet and gazing with wide eyes at Oak. The Professor nodded somewhat feverishly before jumping up himself with an energy he had no idea he still possessed, pacing back and forth in front of the two Professors.
"You know someone who fits these characteristics?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded both hopeful and intrigued, while Oak nodded rapidly.
"Yes, I do," he told the Headmaster without turning, taking a rapid glance at the clock. "As a matter of fact, he is the descendent of Harry James Potter. His only living male descendent..."
Oak could see the realization strike Dumbledore just a moment before Snape, but before either could comment, the door to the lab opened.
"Hey, Gramps, I'm back," Gary said with a shrug as he walked in, Umbreon trotting silently at his heels. He paused just after the door swung shut, however, and gazed at the two sitting on his grandfather's couch before noticeably narrowing his eyes. "...Gramps..."
"Gary, come here," Oak said, a slight smile in place and a gleam in his eye he knew his grandson did not like one bit. But Gary reluctantly obeyed none the less, stopping next to his grandfather (and Bayleef, who was happily conversing with the mostly-silent Umbreon) and allowing Oak to put an arm around him.
"Professors," Oak slowly introduced, noticing Gary's attention become caught with the title as Oak knew it would, "this is my grandson, Gary Harrison Oak, named after his grandfather." Gary glanced up sharply at Oak with slightly wide eyes, but Oak merely gave the shadow of a wink before continuing on. "Gary, these are two Professors from a boarding school called Hogwarts, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Professor Severus Snape. They came here looking for someone to join their school, and I thought perhaps they would like to meet you and consider."
"What sort of boarding school?" asked Gary, gaze leveled on Dumbledore as his mind almost visibly whirled. "What do you specialize in?"
Dumbledore smiled, a new light in his eyes despite the heavy mourning still going on in the background. "That's easy, Mr. Oak," he politely said. His eyes were twinkling merrily as he undoubtedly remembered the third defiance Oak listed. "Magic."
-END-
Gary - 14
Daisy - 12
Dad - 34
Mom - 33
Oak - 51
Wife - 53
MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-7-13): SPOILERS! Oak is actually Harry. The "death" of Harry Potter that he refers to is when his wife died in an accident 34 years before; he considers that the date of his own "death" so to speak, although he would have obviously recovered since. The timelines of the two worlds are parallel; the only reason why Oak is so old compared to the age he should be is because Celebi took him back in time 50 years. Which makes his later friendship and timetravel with Celebi all the better, eh? It was just coincidence that Gary is only slightly older than Harry should be-though Dumbledore wouldn't see it that way. Conflict! :D Other than that nothing was really planned for this fic.