Author's Note: For the next couple of chapters there will be some lines written in Hungarian, and I've provided the translations at the end of the chapter. I used Google Translate, so apologies to anyone who can speak Hungarian if the translations aren't quite right lol
Harry stared back at the man, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still barely believe that the golden necklace had worked, and had taken him from his lonely cupboard under the stairs to a room that looked like something out of a story.
And the man—Gellert, he'd said his name was—was there, smiling at Harry, just like Walburga had been. He must be the friend Walburga had told Harry would be waiting for him.
"Nem beszél angolul?" Gellert said after a few moments of silence passed between them.
"Uh, what?" Harry finally said, frowning when Gellert chuckled.
"I asked if you do not speak English," Gellert answered. "But you just answered that question. Now if you could answer my first and tell me your name."
Gellert's voice came out sharp, and Harry averted his gaze and looked down in shame. Walburga had sent Harry away from the Dursleys to be kind to him, and he didn't want to ruin it by making Gellert hate him already.
"Sorry, sir; my name is Harry, Harry Potter," Harry murmured, refusing to stare at anything but the stone floor before gentle fingers grasped his chin and forced his head up to meet Gellert's bright blue stare.
"So polite," Gellert cooed. "But I do not want a child to avert his gaze from me in fear. I do not plan to cause you any harm, Harry, however I would like to know how you came to be in my home when any skilled wizard would find it near impossible."
Harry's eyes widened further at the mention of the word wizard. Walburga had told Harry that magic was real, and then there had been that blurred, shifting tunnel that had brought Harry to where he was...it seemed like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been wrong about magic not being real.
Harry gingerly held out his necklace to Gellet, one half of the hourglass now smashed and missing the majority of the glittering silver sand.
"A lady named Walburga gave it to me," Harry explained, allowing Gellert to take the necklace from his grasp. "She said it would take me to a friend. Are you my friend?"
Gellert smiled brightly at Harry, flashing perfectly straight white teeth. "Of course, Harry. This is a very interesting necklace; it's a pity it's broken. Where are your parents?"
"I don't have any of those," Harry said quietly.
"Hmm," Gellert murmured, reaching into the sleeve of his navy gown and pulling out a long wooden stick which had a silver band close to the tip, scrawled with peculiar patterns. "I just want to do a little spell on you, Harry. Is that okay?"
"A spell?" Harry repeated faintly, looking at the stick—the wand, Harry realised—with awe.
"It won't hurt at all," Gellert promised. He stood back to full height and aimed his wand at the spot between Harry's eyes. "Legilimens."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a strange tugging in his head as memories began to fly to the front of his mind; Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon mostly, shouting at him, calling him a freak, telling him magic wasn't real, screaming at him whenever anything usual around him happened, locking him in the cupboard, not letting him eat.
Harry peeked one eye open and saw a look of intense fury on Gellert's face, but Harry had seen enough anger to know whether it was aimed at him or not—and Gellert's wasn't. His eyes locked with Harry's and then the tugging inside his head felt even stronger; not painful but uncomfortable.
"Shh," Gellert murmured as Harry whimpered. "It will be over soon."
More, unknown memories came forward then; a strange green flash with a woman screaming behind it, a motorcycle flying through the sky—then some he did know; watching the television on New Year's Day with the numbers 1985 flashing on the screen, him sitting in his cupboard crying, frightened and alone, and Walburga giving him the necklace and promising that it would take Harry somewhere safe and to somebody who cared.
The sudden surge of memories and uncomfortable feeling stopped all at once, leaving Harry feeling dizzy. He felt dampness on his cheeks and wiped quickly at his eyes before Gellert could see.
But rather than shouting at him, Gellert crouched back down in front of Harry and used his thumbs to tenderly brush the tears from Harry's cheeks; Harry couldn't remember anyone ever touching him so gently.
"There is no shame in crying," Gellert said softly. "Your aunt and uncle are very cruel to you, aren't they?"
"Only because I'm bad," Harry muttered, hanging his head again. "I make them mad."
"No," Gellert said sharply, tilting Harry's head up again. "You are a child, and no child should be treated like they treat you; especially by adults who are far…inferior to you."
"Huh?" Harry tilted his head at the word he didn't recognise. Harry hadn't spoken to Gellert for long, but he could already tell that he was a lot smarter than Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon.
Gellert laughed lightly. "I shall explain later. Now, Harry, Walburga is a friend of mine and I asked her to send you to me. I knew your father, you see, and I knew he wanted me to look after you if anything ever happened to him and your mother. Unfortunately the Ministry intervened and through my work and travels I was unable to get to you until now."
Harry didn't understand most of what Gellert had just said, but he knew the most important part.
"You knew my dad?"
Gellert nodded. "Wulfric Potter, a very clever man. He and I used to work together. Now-" he held up a hand as Harry prepared to ask him another question—one of many that he had. "I know you have a lot to ask me but I do not want to overwhelm you right now. How about I get you something to eat, then I'll get Pici to run you a bath before bed?"
Gellert returned to full height and offered his hand to Harry, smiling down at him. Harry hesitated for just a moment before taking it, realising for the first time what it was to feel happy.
Harry couldn't help but jump on his knees, laughing at the soft mattress springing beneath him. He'd never felt a bed this soft and bouncy, or even so big—it had to be wider than the one Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon used.
Harry's movements stilled at once when Gellert walked into the room, and he sat back on his calves.
"Sorry," Harry murmured with a pout, upset to anger Gellert who had been nothing but kind to Harry.
But rather than shouting at him, Geller simply smiled. "You're a child, Harry; you're allowed to jump on the bed. Though that it perhaps left best for morning; you look very tired. Will you get under the covers now?"
Harry did as he was told, finding the duvet as warm and as cosy as the bed itself. He felt almost swamped by the sheer fluffiness of the duvet covers, and he pulled them over his head and back down, grinning at Gellert, who smiled back at him tenderly.
Harry was still worried that he would upset Gellert if he did something wrong, and would make him hate him, but despite that Harry felt comfortable around him. Gellert had been nicer to Harry than anyone else had before—not that that was hard.
Gellert had given Harry dinner of delicious fresh-baked bread with cheese and sausages, and had allowed Harry to eat as much as he wanted without yanking his plate away from him. He'd given Harry a glass of milk and cookies for dessert, chatting with him about Harry's favourite things; colour, animal, flower, and the like.
After dinner Gellert had called on Pici, a peculiar little thing that looked like a bat and a gremlin all at once, and had made Harry shout in shock when he saw him. Gellert had explained that Pici was a house-elf who helped out around the house, and that he would help Harry with his bath. Harry had been even more surprised to learn that Pici could talk, but he turned out to be very friendly, even though he didn't know very many words. The bath had been wonderful too, with a large tub filled to the brim with warm water and lots of bubbles, nothing like the ones at home where Aunt Petunia made Harry sit in cold water previously used by Dudley.
Despite the strange, warping tunnel and the spell that Gellert had used on Harry which made his head feel weird, Harry hadn't had such a good day in all the days that he could remember. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, where nobody liked him, and back to his dark, small cupboard with its hard bed and close walls. He liked it with Gellert, and Harry wondered if he could hide in one of the many rooms so Gellert couldn't find him to send him home.
"I brought a book, if you'd like me to read you a story?" Gellert murmured, sitting gently on the end of the bed and bringing out a well-used book that was fraying in the corners and cracked down the spine.
"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly, leaning forwards and clapping his hands together. Sometimes if he strained his ears he could hear Aunt Petunia reading to Dudley, but he always missed bits of it.
"How old are you, Harry?" Gellert asked, absently brushing lint off the bed covers.
"Four," Harry answered, holding four fingers up proudly. "I'm five in July."
"Not long to go then," Gellert smiled. "Do you go to school yet?"
"I go in April," Harry said. "I don't wanna go to school. Dudley said the teachers hit your hands with a cane if you're naughty."
"Nobody would dare strike your hands with a cane, unless they want to face my wrath," Gellert said icily. "I take it, then, that you haven't learned to read yet?"
"Not yet," Harry said slowly, waiting for the look of disappointment on Gellert's face which never came.
"Most children don't until they start school," Gellert commented casually. "I was an early learner, but I always very much enjoyed reading and writing. This book I have here is called Tales of Beedle the Bard; it's a collection of, what do you call them? Hmm...fairy tales."
He showed Harry the front cover which had a painted picture of an old woman huddled over a bubbling cauldron. The paint was flecked with age and dim in colour, but the picture it showed was fascinating to Harry.
"In my native tongue, we call this A Bárd Kísértetei," Gellert said. "That's Hungarian. Have you heard of Hungary?"
"Hungry?" Harry repeated, and Gellert shook his head, smiling.
"Hun-GAH-ry," Gellert corrected. "Say it again."
"Hungary," Harry tried again, and Gellert nodded, pleased.
"Good boy," he purred, ruffling Harry's hair and making him giggle. "Hungary is a country just like England, where you are from. It's across a sea and several more countries, and we speak our own language here. That necklace Walburga gave him brought you all the way to Hungary."
"Wow," Harry beamed. He'd never been on holiday before; he had to stay with Mrs Figg for a week when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took Dudley to Torquay for a holiday.
"This book is all written in Hungarian, so you wouldn't be able to read it even if you could read," Gellert said. "I am able to speak Hungarian and English, as well as a few other languages, so I can read a book in one language and speak it aloud in another."
"You're very clever," Harry said, giving Gellert a wide grin.
Gellert gave Harry a fond look. "I'm going to read you my favourite story. It's called The Tale of the Three Brothers, or in Hungarian, A három testvér története."
The story was about three brothers who tried to beat Death, who didn't take kindly to their attempts. He tricked two of them into taking items which led to their own death, but the third brother simply asked Death to leave him alone until his time was up.
There was a special wand for the first brother, and a stone that could bring back the dead for the second, and though Harry thought they would be fine items, the story seemed to be saying that they weren't as they seemed. The third brother received an Invisibility Cloak, and Harry had to admit that would be his favourite of the three, and he told Gellert as much.
"Yes, if you only had to pick one, it is a fine choice," Gellert agreed. "But to own all three means that you will become the Master of Death, and can never die. There are those who do not believe in the Deathly Hallows, the Halál ereklyéi, but it's always fun to believe in fantasy, don't you agree?"
Harry slept incredibly well, and dreamt of sneaking into a sweet shop with the help of an Invisibility Cloak. He woke up quite disappointed that he didn't have one, and then even more disappointed when he remembered where he was.
It wasn't that he hated being with Gellert, far from it, but he knew that Gellert would be sending Harry home soon and he really didn't want to go.
As a result he went down to breakfast with Pici in a sullen mood, which Gellert instantly picked up on.
"Did you not sleep well, Harry?" Gellert asked over a bowl of fruit and yoghurt.
"Fine," Harry answered with a huff. "Gellert?" he asked, uncertainly. "How long can I stay here? Can I have just one more bath before I go? Please?"
Gellert frowned, and snapped his fingers for Pici to get Harry's breakfast.
"Did I give you the impression I would be sending you away, Harry?" Gellert enquired. "I cannot in good conscience return you to a home where you get starved and locked in a tiny cupboard."
"Good con-shenz?" Harry repeated, tilting his head in confusion.
"It means I would feel a bad person if I did it," Gellert explained gently. "You didn't want to go back to your aunt and uncle, did you?"
"No way!" Harry protested quickly, shaking his head.
"Good," Gellert nodded. "Remember yesterday I said I knew your father? I also said he wanted me to look after you if anything were to happen to him, and I am now in a position where I can do so. If you are willing, I would like to adopt you, Harry."
"Really?!" Harry shouted, grinning widely as he jumped to his feet and almost sent Pici flying. "Sorry, Pici. But you would adopt me?"
Harry's heart was pounding, excitement coursing through his veins at the thought of never having to go back to the Dursleys, and staying with somebody who cared for him; somebody who had been nothing but kind and had wonderful, magical stories to tell.
"I would like nothing more than to see you happy," Gellert said, holding his arms wide.
Harry barely hesitated before running forwards to hug Gellert who immediately wrapped his arms around Harry in a tight hold. It made Harry feel safe and loved and wanted, and it made tears spring to his eyes.
"I don't know why I'm sad," Harry muttered, wiping his eyes. "I feel happy."
"You can cry when you're happy," Gellert said, smiling down at Harry.
"If you would like, you can call me Apa. That's the Hungarian word for father."
"Apa," Harry copied, testing the word on his tongue. "It's good."
"I will teach you Hungarian, Harry," Gellert continued. "I can teach you a lot thing, so you won't have to go to school where they cane you. I'll teach you how to read and write, and I'll teach you about magic."
"I can be magic too?" Harry asked hopefully, eyes brightening as Gellert brandished his wand and levitated his glass across the table.
"You are either born with magic, of you're not," Gellert said. "And you, sweet Harry, were born with it. I can sense it in you; I believe you'll grow up to be a powerful wizard. That's why your aunt and uncle were so cruel to you; they resented you for having magic. Mugli, we call them—Muggles, in English. Muggles are a very dangerous group of people, Harry; they are scared of magic, or they envy us and want to be magical themselves, which puts witches and wizards at risk. You saw with your aunt and uncle what they are capable of; I want you to remember never to trust a Muggle, Harry. I would never lie to you, Harry, remember that."
Harry nodded seriously. "Okay, Apa, I won't trust them."
If horrible people like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were Muggles, and then Gellert the wizard was nice, Harry didn't see any reason not to believe Gellert.
"Good boy," Gellert smiled. "I can already tell you're going to be a brilliant student. Now, I do believe it might be a good idea to change your surname so you can properly be adopted."
Harry threw his thoughts back to the previous night to try and remember what Gellert had said his surname was.
"Griddalword?" Harry tried, sniggering when Gellert shook his head with a chuckle.
"Grindelwald," Gellert corrected easily. "But I don't think that would go with the name Harry very well. You are better to take my mother's name, Peverell."
"Harry Peverell," Harry said. "Harry Peverell. Do you like it?"
Gellert nodded. "It sounds perfect. Finish your breakfast, Harry; there's somebody I would like you to meet."
Harry wolfed down his breakfast—rice pudding with fruit jam on top—intrigued to see who Gellert was going to introduce him to. He wondered if it was a wife who would be Harry's new mother, or another child who would be Harry's brother or sister.
Harry didn't expect it to be another man.
He was sat in a bedroom that had bars on the window, He was a little bit younger than Gellert and very handsome, with short dark hair and wearing a smart suit. His deep brown eyes widened at the sight of Harry, and he looked at Gellert in alarm.
"Who is this?" the man demanded, his voice sounding just like the Americans Harry had heard on the television. "Gellert-"
"This is Harry," Gellert said sharply, cutting the man off before he could finish his sentence. "I have just adopted him."
"Adopted?" the man repeated faintly, but Gellert ignored him and turned to Harry instead.
"Harry, this is Percival Graves," Gellert explained, gesturing at the man who was still staring down at Harry with wide, unbelieving eyes. "He is a servant of sorts, my personal assistant."
"Hi," Harry said shyly, grinning up at Percival who finally gave him a shaky smile.
"Hello, Harry" Percival said slowly. "Geller, what are you-?"
"Jó otthont adok egy bántalmazott árvának,"¹ Gellert stated coldly. "That's what you'd have wanted for your dear Credence, isn't it?"
Percival hung his head and nodded. "Yes, I...yes."
"Good," Gellert purred. "Harry, as part of my work, I sometimes have to leave here for days at a time, but Percival is going to take very good care of you while I'm away. Aren't you, Percival?"
"Yes," Percival answered, crouching down in front of Harry and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Yes, I'll watch him. How old are you, Harry?"
"Four," Harry answered with a smile, feeling happier now that Percival looked more relaxed. "Are you from America?"
Percival nodded. "Yes, I'm from New York. I was an Auror, but then Gellert, uh, brought me here to work for him instead."
"What's an Auror?" Harry asked Percival, but it was Gellert who answered.
"Magical police," Gellert said. "They are not to be trusted; they only care to save themselves and the people who pay them. I was incredibly gracious to give Percival the opportunity to work for me, rather than leaving him to decay where he was."
"Yes, and thank you for that," Percival responded, though he didn't look happy at all. "Ha bántani akarja…"²
"That is not my intention at all," Gellert snapped, and Harry looked between Gellert and Percival with a furrowed brow. "Soha nem ártana az ártatlan gyermeket."³
"Unless you needed to," Percival muttered under his breath, but Gellert still heard him.
"Credence wasn't innocent," Gellert said icily, gesturing for Harry to return to his side. "You look rather confused, Harry; I promise we're try and speak less Hungarian around you until you begin your lessons."
"It sounds hard," Harry murmured, still feeling rather lost in the conversation, both between the mix of Hungarian and English and the long words that Gellert favoured.
"I was able to teach Percival and make him fluent, and children of your age pick up on a second language exceedingly easily," Gellert reassured him, running a gentle hand through Harry's hair. "I promise you'll be speaking Hungarian in no time. Now, Harry, would you be so kind as to go with Pici for a little while? I need to talk to Percival in private."
Harry watched in awe as Gellert's face shifted to that of another man's, his blond hair turning black from the roots to the tips, and his blue eyes turning a shade of brown similar to Percival's.
"I thought we could go to Budapest today,"Gellert said, running a hand through his now dark hair. "That's the capital city of Hungary."
"You-you're different!" Harry responded, unable to think of anything else to say. Gellert's voice was still the same but otherwise it was like looking at a completely different man.
"Yes," Gellert nodded. "Do you remember how I've mentioned my work a few times? Well, there are some who do not agree with what I do because they are terribly misinformed. They don't understand what I'm trying to do, and though I could handle them bothering me with ease, I sometimes like to change my appearance when I'm out so I can go about my business without being interrupted."
"Oh," Harry said, nodding despite not being sure what Gellert meant.
Gellert chuckled and crouched down to Harry's height. "You musn't be afraid to tell me if you don't understand something, Harry. I value learning over pride."
"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon get angry if I don't know something," Harry muttered, scuffing his shoe on the floor.
"Well they're not here, and I'm not going to get angry at you," Gellert replied gently. "And what I said before was that I have to go outside in disguise sometimes because there are some people who don't like me."
"Why don't they like you?" Harry enquired curiously. "You're nice."
"Not everybody would agree with that assessment," Gellert replied. "As you get older, Harry, you may hear things about me, about how the world considers Gellert Grindelwald a danger, but I want you to promise me, Harry, that you won't listen to them. I want you to promise that you'll trust me, your father, over any other."
Harry's heart skipped a beat when Gellert referred to himself as Harry's father, and he smiled up at him shyly. "I promise. I like you; you've been nice to me."
"Remember that promise, Kicsikém,"⁴ Gellert murmured. "Shall we leave now? I would like to buy you some new clothes, some books, and some toys perhaps."
Harry's face lit up at the mention of toys. "Can I get a toy soldier? Dudley took mine."
"You can have whatever you like," Gellert smiled. "I will not punish you if you misbehave or do something to upset me, but I will reward you for good behaviour; no good behaviour means no reward. You have lived too long fearing punishment. Hold my hand and I will Apparate us."
"What's Apparate mean?" Harry asked, taking Gellert's hand and immediately squeezing his eyes shut as he felt suddenly squashed, like he was being sucked into a tunnel before being spat back out outside.
"It's a way that witches and wizards travel," Gellert explained with a small smile. "Very quick, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from Gellert to the wide, flowing river which was now beside them, with large white buildings on the other side, one of which had a pointed dome sticking out from the skyline.
"That is St Stephen's Basilica, a Muggle church," Gellert explained, following Harry's line of sight. "And this river is the River Danube, the second longest river in Europe; in Hungary we refer to it as Duna. I suppose I'll have to ensure you learn how to swim, actually; I'd hate for you to drown when it's easily preventable."
"Okay," Harry murmured, trailing his gaze down the line of the city. "It's so pretty here."
"My country is indeed a beautiful one," Gellert smiled. "That is why I only want the best for the witches and wizards who live here."
"How many do?" Harry asked, finally glancing back at Gellert.
"Far too many to count," Gellert answered. "There are enough of us that we have our own district in Budapest, hidden away from all the Muggles. It isn't too far from here."
Gellert kept hold of Harry's hand as he guided him away from the river and up into the city.
"Why are people dressed so funny?" Harry asked as Gellert hurried them through the crowd. "And the cars look funny too."
"England must have different styles to what we have here," Gellert answered dismissively. "We're almost there; there's a secret way to getting into the magical district."
Gellert stopped outside a rundown little coffee shop which had dusty, darkened windows, and a board loosely covering up a smashed window in the doorway. None of the people around them paid any attention when Gellert led Harry up the two stone steps and pushed the door open with a creak.
Nobody was in the shop, and chairs and tables were thrown on their sides, discarded without a second thought, but Gellert walked straight past them and headed right to the back door, which he tapped three times with his wand. He glanced down at Harry and smiled before pushing open the door.
Harry had to shield his eyes as suddenly the world was bright again, and abuzz with the noise of chatter. Harry gingerly took his hand away from his face and grinned brightly as a long, stony alley stretched out in front of him, full of people wearing different coloured gowns like the one Gellert and Percival wore.
As Gellert led Harry down the alley, he didn't know where to look. All the shop windows had amazing things in, things Harry could have never believed existed, like cauldron pots and smoking marbles, owls and small dogs with forked tails, broomsticks and intricate golden devices that looked like telescopes. Then there were the smells, all delicious and sweet, wafting in from various bakeries and delis, or street carts which had lines of people queuing up to wait for them.
A man shouted and Harry looked as several small, blue items flew from his arms and into the air, and as they whizzed past Harry he saw they were tiny, human-like creatures with glittering silver wings.
It was like something out of a dream, and made up of everything that Uncle Vernon said wasn't real. But it was real, and Harry was there, right in the middle of it. And Gellert had brought him there; Gellert, who wanted to be Harry's father and look after him and be the family Harry had always wanted.
Unable to help himself, Harry surged forwards to wrap his arms tightly around Gellert's middle.
"Thank you, Apa!" Harry cried. "Thank you!"
Notes:
¹I am giving a good home to an abused orphan
²If you're planning on hurting him…
³I would never harm an innocent child
⁴My little one