"So she just, let herself be caught on purpose?" Harry scoffed. He was banking on Mr. Fortescue being old enough that he might not recognize third year coursework. Somehow, despite serving ice cream for a living, Mr. Fortescue knew absolutely everything about history of magic. And potions, surprisingly.

"Ingredients are ingredients, what is ice cream but a very tasty potion?" Mr. Fortescue had missed when Harry had finally asked, rather rudely.

He hadn't come up with a similar explanation for his history knowledge, but Harry hadn't pressed.

"With a flame freezing charm, fire's not a big deal. Haven't you ever taking the floo?" Mr. Fortescue asked, pausing in his tidying up to fix Harry with a long look.

"Once," Harry admitted, trying to put the pieces together himself, "I didn't do any charms though. Are there flame freezing charms on wizard fireplaces?" He guessed, faced scrunched up.

"Not quite." Mr. Fortescue smiled though, nodding his head despite the negative. "You couldn't heat anything in the flames if you charmed the fire place, there wouldn't be any use other than flooing." He paused, letting Harry think some more. Refusing to just give him the answer. Mr. Fortescue would be a good teacher, Harry thought, he'd never fall asleep in his class.

"The charm could be..." Harry looked around as though he could pull the answer from the daily sights of Diagon Alley, "on the powder? It's a weird green color, could that be a charm?" It had to be the powder. He was almost certain. Still, wizards and logic weren't exactly friends.

"Almost exactly correct!" Mr. Fortescue beamed like Harry had just personally won the house cup "Except it's not a charm, floo powder is actually a potion!"

Harry stared at him, mouth making a small O. It made perfect sense, but he'd never thought of it before. There were a lot of things he'd never known before. Perhaps expulsion had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

***

Hazel had tried every legal tracking charm and even a few that were in a pretty dark grey area. They might have to raise this case from a simple runaway to a full blown kidnapping case if they don't find the boy soon. No thirteen year old should be able to hide himself so effectively from magical detection. Especially not on the heels of such a magical outburst. If he knew how to hide his magic use, he wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place.

Unfortunately, beyond interviewing people who knew him, there wasn't much she could do to find him without magic.

The minister had restricted them from utilizing the wireless alert system to mobilize the magical population to search for the boy. She understood there was quite a lot of political pressure to hide the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived to prevent any upheaval about how well, or not, they had been taking care of a national icon.

But as much as it would be inconvenient for Cornelius Fudge, the longer a child stays missing, the lower the chances of discovering him went. Hazel may be a Junior Auror, but she was good at her job, and she paid attention to training. She knew the terrible things that people did to each other.

Which is why she had to talk to Auror Shacklebolt. It was marginally possible that Sirius Black had not kidnapped Harry Potter. But if he had, Shacklebolt had the resources to get the word out there.

Muggle news broadcasts had photos of Sirius Black, even. That was power.

Which was a large part of why she was so nervous. Junior Aurors did not dictate the caseloads of senior Aurors. But. This needed escalation. So she must.

Hazel breathed, lifted her hand, and knocked on the door, and held her breath.

"Come in,"

Hazel exhaled.

Minerva was. Concerned. She was in charge of sending out letters every year, and though she didn't write them all, she did look over them to make certain everything was correct, and each student was prepared for their school year.

In the past, Harry Potter had had difficulty getting his letter. It was with more than a hint of mischievousness that she performed a doubling charm and enlisted more and more of the school owls returning from their more standard deliveries.

Typically, if someone missed a letter, she'd only send one or two follow up letters, just in case they had missed it. But she'd seen the horrible muggles that Potter had been placed with, and she had never approved of them. The fact that they'd kept his letter from him vindicated her even as it infuriated her.

Now, the owl that had left with Harry's letter had returned with the letter undelivered. It should be impossible, unless the boy was dead. The post owls always delivered.

She hadn't been particularly worried before, when she heard that Potter had run away from those awful muggles. If she lived with the Dursleys, she'd have run away too. Potter was resourceful, he could take care of himself. And Black was on the run.

But. For all that Sirius Black had supposedly betrayed his friends and led them to their deaths. Minerva had never believed that the boy she had taught for seven years could do anything to Harry.

But. Post owl magic was deep and reliable. Even an old owl was never lost, even if it was late.

That the owl had returned meant that something terrible had happened. Death or dark magic, it had to be, even distance wouldn't account for this anomaly. Albus may not wish to publicize his inability to watch over the Boy-Who-Lived, but it was time.

Minerva considered her options. Albus would say no. The Minister would never agree. But Minerva had taught most of the people under age fifty in prominent positions anywhere in the magical world.

She pulled out a quill and began to write.

"Dear Mr. Smudgley..."

***
It was Harry's birthday. He was finally turning thirteen. He hadn't received a single gift, a single letter, anything. It was the first time since he'd been introduced to Hogwarts that his birthday had been forgotten.

He didn't cry. Harry was used to dealing with disappointment. And part of him had always expected this. Though a greater part of him remembered last year, when Dobby had stopped his mail. There could be a magical reason why his friends couldn't contact him.

Or maybe, when he lost Hogwarts he lost everything. Maybe he needed to face up to the consequences of his actions and beg to be allowed to stay in the magical world. They would snap his wand, but maybe Mr. Fortescue would hire him to serve ice cream. He could stay in Diagon Alley forever.

Harry wasn't sure. But he was thirteen, he was learning more and more about this world that had chosen him, and he'd been saving his money wisely. He was going to buy himself a present.

Harry scrubbed his eyes, peeked at himself in the mirror to make sure his disguise was still in place. He was still so scrawny, he thought, he should be taller now as a proper thirteen year old. He narrowed his eyes at himself, and shot up an inch, then stumbled back in surprise that it had worked. It wasn't an emergency, it wasn't an accident. He had made himself taller just by willing it.

Was this a thing that all wizards could do? His mind flew back to Eloise Midgen and her unfortunate quest to rid herself of acne, and decided it must not be.

Was it something like Parselmouth? A magical gift? Had he had the power to make his hair lie flat this entire time? He thought of Aunt Petunia, her vicious combing and forced haircuts, and smiled. Maybe he'd had the power all along.

Harry started his reflection down and made his hair ginger.

"Oh dear, not ginger," the mirror sighed, and Harry jumped again. He always forgot the mirrors. They were one of his least favorite magical things.

Harry popped his hair back to brown, patting it down, hoping he'd managed to turn it back to the exact shade.

"Don't let me stop you experimenting love. Only, if you have the power to change your looks, why choose ginger?" The mirror sneered.

"I like ginger!" Harry said.

"Why not a nice blonde?"

"I would not look good as a blonde." Harry protested.

"No one is here to see but me." Harry didn't think that mirrors could smile, but he got the distinct impression this one was.

Curious, Harry fixed his eyes hard on his reflected forehead, concentrating. Fine white blonde hair in a disturbingly familiar shade swished down his forehead. Harry purposely messed it up, smirking, then reverted all the way back to his original appearance, breathing hard.

"The blonde was nice!" The mirror said, "Much nicer than that shaggy mop. Tidy that up." Harry gritted his teeth and carefully went about replacing his disguise. He couldn't leave his room looking like Harry Potter. Possibly ever again.

HARRY POTTER KIDNAPPED BY SIRIUS BLACK?

By Andy Smudgley

Sources close to the Ministry of Magic revealed that Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, has been missing for over a fortnight. The Magical Law Enforcement Office has refused to comment on why they kept such important news a secret for so long. A disgruntled MLE patrolwoman responded "How do you know about this?" and "This isn't public information, give me that quill." When this reporter reached out to Albus Dumbledore, magical guardian to the young wizarding hero, he merely said "Not to worry, young Harry will be back at Hogwarts on September first with the rest of his classmates."

When further questioned about the suspicious timing of the boy wizard's disappearance and the escape from Azkaban by notorious murderer Sirius Black, Dumbledore said "What a silly notion, who is telling you such things." No word yet as to what the Ministry of Magic is doing to recover the lost child. But it's an election year, so I imagine we'll be hearing something from our dear Minister soon.