Can you spot the nod to Dreamfall?
Earth
Incredibly, despite spending over a century in sleep (although a dreamless, magicked sleep might not count), Harry slept through the afternoon and night quite soundly.
He woke to slowly intensifying light and the sound of birds, none of which he recognised. He was facing the window when he woke, but his bleary eyes couldn't pick out where the sun was rising from. The distant glass wall still shimmered blue and there were no obvious shadows anywhere. In the end, he could only conclude that the sky must be cloudy and so turned on his back, rubbing his eyes.
Which lead to a discovery that woke him right up.
His glasses were gone - and yet he could see. Perfectly, even, better than he had with his glasses. His vision was unrestricted, no limit of peripherals whatsoever.
Stunned, he looked around the room. It was empty, save for Michael who appeared to be sleeping in a chair against the wall. He held a gun loosely, but surely, in one hand.
Had the wizards done this? He hadn't noticed it last night, but now that he thought about it he could remember the lack of glasses then, too. Nothing pressing against his nose or skull, nothing to bump as he held the mask against his face.
Well, whatever the cause, he liked it. And now, thoroughly awake and disinclined to lay about and wait for another muggle to come and talk at him, he carefully pushed aside the thin but soft blanket and slipped out of bed to go look through the window.
Or would have, had the bed not started beeping shrilly the second his body left it.
He felt more than heard Michael wake, the man on his feet within seconds and striding towards the bed, gun tucked away out of sight.
Harry flinched slightly in the expectation of being grabbed or yelled at, but the man simply stabbed at the foot of the bed with one finger, silencing the alarm as a nurse - not Bill - barrelled through the door.
The woman hesitated slightly under Michael's dark-eyed regard and slowed from a run to a walk as she circled the bed to Harry's side. Harry, for his part, slipped nimbly away from her reaching hand to be closer to the window.
"I'm sorry for causing any alarm." He apologised preemptively. "I didn't know to turn the... the bed off before leaving it. But I'm quite alright, thank you for checking."
The woman frowned a little, something not quite sour touching her expression. Harry didn't think she was offended so much as unenthused with patients brushing her off.
But he was not a patient. He was just a guy who'd woken up from a very long nap, thankyouverymuch.
"...I'll call Doctor Maudlin." The nurse conceded after a moment and a quick glance at the telly over his bed. "In the meantime, I'll get you some breakfast."
She left before he could decline, probably banking on either her words or the guard to keep him from just leaving.
Unable not to push the issue, to know where the lines were, Harry turned to his guard and flat out asked him.
"If I wanted to leave, right now, what would you do?"
The guard looked at him, glanced at the telly on the wall himself and then looked back.
"I'd escort you to stores for some street-wear and an exopack, and then I'd follow you wherever you went." He answered promptly. "You're physically well enough not to need the hospital, and my job is to protect you - not restrict you."
Harry couldn't prevent his eyebrows from raising.
That was... unexpected.
"Um.. thanks." He said belatedly. Michael just nodded once and returned to his position against the wall, apparently a man of few words.
Harry turned back to the window, hands pressed against it as he looked out.
The wall of glass in the distance was clearly a part of the same building he was in. It curved around on both sides to make a circular building. Inside the circle of glass were a bunch of slightly off-looking trees and some just-visible paved areas beneath them. He couldn't see any grass or water from here, but (perhaps more weirdly) he couldn't see any of the birds which he could still hear either.
He looked up and was somewhat startled to realise that the 'garden' was completely enclosed. Instead of a sky, there was just one high stretch of glowing-blue. A ceiling of some sort, or maybe blue-smoked glass? It wasn't transparent, whatever it was.
He looked back down, at the trees which didn't stir. Maybe that was why they looked off. No natural light, no wind and probably no rain.
Poor trees.
Then the nurse was back, carrying a tray bearing a covered bowl and a glass of water. Following her into the room was one of the suited guys from the night before. From the state of his suit and the disarray of his hair, he seemed to have spent the night at the hospital.
As the man moved around the nurse to touch a panel in the wall - which caused part of the wall to slide out and form a small table with two benches on either side of it - Harry recognised him as the man representing the company that had volunteered to 're-educate' him. Great.
The nurse set the tray down, gave him a practiced speech about the necessity of finishing his meal before he could be discharged from the hospital, and left.
The suited guy sat down on the other side of the table and Michael stayed against the wall, folded arms allowing his hand to stay close to his gun.
The rumple-suited guy smiled as Harry joined him and held out his hand.
"David McGregor." He reintroduced himself with a smile, as Harry shook hands and sat down opposite him. "I figured the odds were good that you'd have forgotten me by now. We kinda hit you with a lot yesterday."
Despite himself, Harry returned the man's smile with a small one of his own.
"Understatement." He agreed, lifting the lid off of his bowl and trying not to wrinkle his nose at the soup within.
It smelled... exotic.
Still, his stomach was beginning to rumble at him, so he picked up the spoon and gave it a sip.
"How's it taste?" McGregor asked him with a watchful smile.
Harry blinked and licked his lips.
"Salty." Was his first response. Weird was his internal reaction. But then, everything here was weird.
"And a little spicy... is this.. Indian or something?"
He didn't exactly know much of anything about foreign food. The stuff on offer at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament was as exotic as he'd ever experienced and even that was still European. His Aunt and Uncle sometimes went out for Indian food, though, and brought some home for Dudley. The scent was kind of similar to this soup.
"Or something." McGregor chuckled. "It's called 'Curry soup' but I'm pretty sure the actual spices are grown in Australia, for all that the box art is Chinese. But I guess, that's globalism for you."
"...Right." Harry answered, taking another spoonful. He might not like it, but if it had to be eaten before he could get out, then it would bloody well be eaten.
"So, if it's alright with you, I thought I'd take the chance to explain a few more things?" McGregor offered. He seemed friendly rather than impatient, so Harry nodded.
"Great! So, as I said, I'm David and I work for the RDA. The RDA stands for Resources Development Administration and is a company that operates on Earth and in the black in a range of capacities, but primarily in mining and refinement. It's one of the largest companies in the world and provides an income for billions of people." He smiled then, a little wryly. "And if you're wondering why a company focused on development is taking the time to foster some random kid, famous or not, well it's mostly a PR thing. The RDA's name has been associated with your discovery, for all that a couple of non-associated people actually found you. Therefore, if you were left to the streets it'd cause a hell of a lot of bad press for the company, thus their generous - but not insincere - offer to take care of you."
Harry just made a non-committal sound and dropped his eyes back to his soup.
"And what exactly does 'taking care of me' entail?" He asked quietly.
"Well, him, for one." David nodded his head at Michael. "He's part of the RDA's SecOps - security operatives. He's ex-military to boot, so you're in good hands." He visibly hesitated, before continuing.
"You see, Harry... as you might be aware, a lot of people know of your existence. So for crowd control alone, you're going to need some protection. But, well... it's a sad fact that there are a lot of messed up people in the world. People who might want to kill you, just because you're a known figure. Not to mention the normal muggers, crack-heads, murderers etc that plague any civilisation. I'm sure you'll be fine!" He hastened to add. "But we'd rather be safe than sorry, and it's an easy thing to assign you a bodyguard until - at the very least - the fuss dies down and you're familiar enough with life in this time to take care of yourself."
To this, Harry nodded slowly. He did have some experience with people believing whatever someone told them, after all. If some idiot got it in their heads that he was.. oh, a vampire or some sort of demon, for being found where and how he was... then yeah, he could probably do with a little protection. For a little while.
"Good." McGregor seemed relieved. "Now, the RDA has also assigned you an apartment and put aside funds for your education. They've also put a monthly stipend into place for you to spend on whatever you'd like - we'd figured there'd be a lot to catch up on." The last was said with a conspiratorial grin that made Harry tense. This wasn't a joke. This was his life.
"And finally, they've assigned me to you as a sort of... case worker, I suppose. I'm your first point of contact for any questions or concerns you might have. Consider me your personal assistant for all things re-integration. Here." He slid a watch across the table. "Try that on for size, flat side against the inside of your wrist - either wrist, doesn't matter."
Harry did so, slipping it over his hand and pressing the underside of the watch against his wrist. His eyes widened as the watch beeped lowly and the strap automatically tightened until it was comfortably secure.
McGregor grinned. "I'm gonna enjoy seeing that expression, I think." He joked, fiddling with his own watch. After a moment, Harry's began vibrating slightly as it warbled a jaunty tune.
"Just tap it." McGregor advised, raising his watch hand and pressing his forefinger against his ear. Harry obeyed and, after a moment, awkwardly copied McGregor's position.
"Pretty nifty, huh?" McGregor's voice came from in front of him and, somehow, from the finger pressing against his ear.
"What-how?!" Harry exclaimed, removing his finger to examine it. There were no obvious wires snaking through his skin.
"Vibrations." McGregor explained. "Pretty old tech, but it cuts down on the amount of phones lost or left behind at restaurants. The microphone is in the watch, which is why I asked you to position it on the inside of your wrist. The phone sends the signal it receives through your hand and to your ear, if you hold a finger against it. You get better sound if you press against the hole and not the bit of skin in front of it, but it works either way. Pretty sweet, right?"
"Y-yeah." Harry couldn't help but agree, pulling his hand away as there really was no need to use it with the other guy sitting right there. He tapped the watch face again and the call abruptly disconnected. Now the classically round face displayed the time like a miniature television, with a rotating planet in the middle and glowing stars marking the time around the outside.
"It can do a bunch of other stuff too, but we'll get to that later." McGregor said easily. "For now, finish up your breakfast and I'll take you to your new place. All the stuff we found with you has been transported there, and I'll need you to confirm that we got everything so if something is missing, we can go looking for it."
Stuff had been stored with him?
Like, maybe, a freaking explanation for what the hell was going on?
He lifted his bowl of soup and chugged it.
McGregor laughed again. Harry ignored him, chased the soup down with the water, then stood.
"Let's go."
Earth
The ride to Harry's new home was a bit odd. Dr Maudlin had arrived just as they were leaving, having apparently gone home and then been roused by the nurse when Harry woke. He was not happy to see his patient leaving without his say-so, and only the quick interference of McGregor had been enough to stop the man trying to order Harry back to his room for another round of tests now that he was awake.
Harry didn't want to think about what sort of tests they'd done whilst he was unconscious.
Still, he was happy to have escaped into the back of a small car with dark tinted windows that McGregor had provided and be driven away. The view out the window wasn't that great - all dark steel and grimy roadways lit by the glare of aggressively neon advertisements. When he'd asked about them, McGregor had mentioned simple holograms but seemed more interested in scolding Harry for addressing him by his surname. The man kept up a stream of chatter that was just interesting enough not to be tuned out - like how most nations were governed more by corporations than by governments these days, known as quasi-governmental administrative entities, of which the RDA was one. Harry wasn't quite sure if this was a good thing or not, though McGregor - David - certainly seemed to think it was.
"Money makes the world go round, after all." David said, when questioned. "And large corporations tend to have a hell of a lot more money-sense than governments consisting of vaguely-educated people elected by popularity. They have to, in order to become large. They also tend to be better with the long-term planning, too. Not to mention, they're beholden to their shareholders but they can make the hard decisions without having to worry about being 'voted out' for unpopular but necessary courses of action."
Which did actually make quite a bit of sense, though Harry might have been somewhat prejudiced against governments thanks to his experience with the useless, corrupt, self-glorifying Ministry of Magic. Still. Even despite that, it felt… not quite right.
So distracted by the conversation was he (Australia, of all backwater places, became one of the first QGAE-run countries when the mining billionaires decided they wanted to still be rich after the mines ran dry) that he only realised they'd arrived when the car stopped inside an underground parking structure.
"This way." David chirped, striding briskly over to a well-lit set of doors. He passed his watch over a discreet panel, which beeped obediently and opened the door. Inside was a luxurious-looking lift, with polished stone flooring and exquisitely-carved wooden panelling.
There were no windows.
David pressed the button marked 42 (of 60 possible levels, the last button behind a glass panel) and Michael took station in a corner.
"This is an older RDA-owned building." David informed Harry, rocking slightly on his feet as the lift moved smoothly and silently. "Levels 5 and below are for vehicle and food storage - neither something you should need to worry about. Most people use public transport and the RDA built a link station inside the building for its employees - that's level 29. Each apartment above level 30 has access to automated laundry and washing facilities and the RDA will cover your utilities. Food is delivered automatically - I'll show you where - and level 40 is a shopping and dining level. Anything bought there will come out of your stipend, so be careful."
The lift slowed, then stopped, and the doors slid open to reveal a softly-glowing hallway. There were no lights - the walls themselves glowed and slowly changed colours. From about shoulder height to the ceiling, an aquarium was built into the wall and ran along the corridor. There were a lot of softly waving plants in it, but not many fish - at least, not in this area.
"Wow." Harry couldn't help but marvel. It was no moving painting, sure, but it was still magical in its own muggle way.
"Yeah, not bad." David agreed. "Its purpose is two-fold. The aquariums on all levels are part of the filtration system, although they get nicer the higher you go. Come on, you're at number four."
Harry double-took even as he realised that David was referring to apartment number, not Harry's once-home address, over a century ago.
Quickly enough, they came to door number 424 and David waved for Harry to open it, which he did by copying David's move with the lift and pressing his watch against a discreet sensor. Something solid in the door clicked, and it slid open.
They entered.
The area immediately inside the door was somewhat claustrophobic. David immediately started touching bits of the wall which slid open to reveal storage spaces (some already filled with coats and shoes, others with what looked like breathing masks, of all things) but Harry's attention was arrested by the narrow glass(?) staircase directly in front of them. It led up to a second floor, through which a glimpse of another window could be had. The stairs were free-standing and glowed softly white around the edges. Behind them and on either side were two doors - the laundry and a spare room, David explained, noticing his attention.
Beyond them, immediately behind the staircase was another door, the room behind which David said was usually used as an office - this being an RDA building for RDA workers and all - but Harry was herded up the stairs before he could go look.
At the top of the stairs, Harry stopped dead.
There was a window before him, the entire far wall was just one big window like at the hospital.
Unlike at the hospital, however, this one looked over the outside. The real outside.
It was... horrible. But, in a pretty sort of way.
The air was hazed so thickly that the sky itself couldn't be seen. There were no trees - not anywhere. But what should have been an ugly expanse of steel-grey cement and metal was brightened and bejewelled by a flood of rainbow lights, carpets of holograms and strings of artificial stars that lit up the haze and connected various towering buildings. Some holograms nearby were of nature-scenes, many buildings had a sort of moving artwork projected onto them (or built into them?), like a movie screen made of cement, iron and glass. Snake-like trains curved through the air, following the strings of lights - rails? - through the city.
It was alive and vibrant. Undeniably amazing. Except...
He couldn't see the sky.
He turned around to ask if this was normal for big cities and caught a glimpse of the smaller window on the opposite side of the wedge-shaped apartment. He crossed over to look through it, passing David who was sitting sprawled on a couch, patiently waiting for him.
This window looked over an internal garden, similar to the one at the hospital, though much smaller. The windows he could see from here were also shimmery-blue. He guessed that was a privacy standard. The garden here looked a little better than the hospital one. It was higher, too, with Harry's window being just below canopy level, suggesting it started on the roof of Level 40.
Some of the leaves stirred in a breeze - artificial or otherwise - and if he craned his neck he could see the sky. Or rather, a sky. It wasn't real, he could tell instinctively, but it was a pretty good replica of a powder blue mid-day sky visited by fluffy picturesque clouds. There was no sun, though like at the hospital, light seemed to emanate from above with no visible source.
It was - it should have - been soothing, compared to the industrial energy of the other window. And yet, it was almost the same but in reverse. Beautiful but horrible. Because it wasn't real.
He didn't realise he'd said the last bit aloud until David, with a tone of surprise, answered him.
"That's right. I'm impressed you noticed. Only about a third of the plants in there are real - both to reduce maintenance and to allow them enough room and resources to grow well. All of the trees are very good fakes, though many of them have induced moss growth on them. Most of the air filtration is handled in other parts of the building and piped in, but even having a few real plants in there has added to people's reported sense of well-being, so it's a small task to keep them."
Harry didn't turn to look at him, afraid his face would broadcast the unexpected revulsion that swamped him.
A small task? To keep a couple of real plants? A flippant disregard for real greenery when the outside world - at least in this part of the country - was absolutely barren of it?
What was wrong with these people?
After he felt himself sufficiently under control, he swallowed and turned back to his case worker.
"So, uh. Grand tour?" He managed.
David was looking at him with something that might have been compassion or might have been calculation, but both vanished as he leapt to his feet.
"You got it!"
Thus followed a more in-depth whirlwind tour, with Michael dogging Harry's steps dutifully. He was remarkably skilled at always being right there yet never in the way.
The top floor of the apartment was the main living area. 2/3rds of the window space looking out over the city was the living/dining room, with a couple of comfortable looking couches and a low table facing the glass.
Behind that space and to the right of the staircase (with a glass railing preventing falls) was a small open-plan 'kitchen', which mostly consisted of storage space for the automatically delivered meals, the slot through which Harry could retrieve new food and some space for cutlery, crockery and cups. There was something that acted like a microwave, or so he gathered, and a small fridge, but no kettle, no cooker and no oven. With minimal equipment and the back wall being one big window to the inside garden, it was more of a designer food-prep area than true kitchen.
On the other side of the staircase and taking up 1/3rd of the top floor space was another colour-changing softly-glowing wall. This one seemed content to stay within neutral, soft colours. There were three doors set into it, the middle leading to the bathroom which David took great joy in showing him. He explained that the small tub was considered a luxury due to water shortages, but that the water treatment equipment built into the building meant that baths were something all RDA employees could enjoy.
Harry had a vague feeling that 'water treatment' meant washing in pre-used water, but tried not to think about it too much.
The mirror was pretty standard, although the built-in computer was not. David demonstrated some of the first-aid supplies, including a spray-on plaster for minor injuries and how to run the decontamination shower 'for emergencies'. When Harry asked exactly what sort of emergencies would involve having a decontamination shower built into people's homes as standard, he was waved off with the promise that it would be covered in his schooling.
The future was looking worse by the minute.
The other two doors led to simply-furnished bedrooms, the one looking out over the city being slightly larger due to the wedge shape of the apartment. All three walls of both bedrooms (one wall being made of glass) were glowy-walls, the building having apparently been built when such a thing was 'in' but which David said were now considered very outdated.
Back downstairs, David demonstrated how the laundry was really mostly a small room to hang up wet things or wash something small by hand. Clothing and bed sheets went into the 'in' chute and were automatically sorted, cleaned and returned to the 'out' chute within an hour.
Handy.
The office space was the largest room in the apartment, spanning the entire width of the apartment and also looking out over the city. With a desk to the left and a small set of couches to the right, it looked like the office of a rich executive - although slightly barren. Two tall pot plants stood in either corner by the window - drooping just enough to show themselves to be real, if sickly. The desk looked smooth and empty until David demonstrated how a touch here caused a monitor to lift silently from within, or a touch there caused a keyboard of sorts to light up within the surface of the desk itself.
Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. For a kid who'd received socks and clothes-hangers for gifts, as his cousin received playstations and computers, this was awesome.
And the more David gestured for Harry to try things, the more he saw and touched and understood, the more he realised...
This was all his.
This was his home now. His computer, through which he could explore the world in a way that not even magic had allowed him before. His sort-of-pathetic little pot plants, which he could care for. His walls to decorate (or at least fiddle with until they stopped glowing that god-awful puce), his couch to sit on, his...
Wait.
"Is, uh. Not to be rude - this is all incredible, and I'm grateful.." He stumbled over his words. "I just - in my time it was common, I er.. I'm just wondering..."
David grinned, then laughed.
"Hub: TV on." He called out in reply, still grinning.
To Harry's amazement, a large square - larger than the surface of his desk - flickered to life within the window and began displaying a news channel with crystal clear quality.
"Bloody hell..." He breathed, much as his best friend would.
That was.. it was just...
"Amazing."
He caught himself and glanced away, a little embarrassed. David was still grinning, clearly having a ball introducing the normalities of 22nd century life to a kid from the 20th century, but even Michael had an amused tilt to his lips.
"Sure is." David agreed. "Now the 'hub' is basically your apartment's main computer. It's what you use to change anything - ambient temperature, opacity of the windows, tv and music channels/volume etc. You can change the name of it - 'hub' is just the factory default and changing the name can help prevent annoying visitors from messing with your settings. Oh, and it can detect what room you're in, so if you command the tv on, it'll only switch it on in the room you're in. Or, you know, off. Whatever."
He caught the question before Harry even finished forming it.
"Yeah, all the windows are tv-enabled. And they switch off when you leave a room by default (and on in the room you enter), though you can change that too if you want."
"Wow." Harry just replied, dazed.
"Yeah, wow." David smiled, then became a little more serious.
"Now, there's just one room left - the store room. And that's where we put the stuff we found with you."
He didn't need to say more. Harry left the room at a run, both doors sliding open for him automatically.
The walls in the store room all began to glow as soon as he stepped inside, revealing a pile of stuff that looked kind of grotty, despite obvious attempts to wipe them down.
A few sacks, a trunk - not his old one, but a fancy-looking stone one - and on top, a single piece of parchment, folded and sealed with wax.
He reached for the wall as his knees went weak, but found Michael at his side instead, supporting him silently.
"We didn't open any of it." David said softly from behind him.
If there was any magic left to them, they probably couldn't have.
He felt for them, hesitantly, more frightened than he'd been since waking.
If even these, precious relics of his old life, had faded...
But no. They were warm to his inner senses, their humming subdued but still there. Still magical.
He staggered forward, Michael moving with him, as he reached one shaking hand for the letter resting on top.
Harry Potter was written on the front, in a slightly spiky cursive that he'd recognise anywhere, after years of it correcting his homework, unasked.
Hermione.
His throat closed with grief as he gripped the letter with one hand and broke the seal with his other.
To my dearest Harry,
If you are reading this, then we have failed you, and you are alone.
The last of wizard-kind.
He crumpled, a sob wrenching from his throat as his lingering fear was mercilessly proven true. He barely felt a hand on his shoulder - Michael? David's voice was a blur in his ears. The rest of the letter illegible through his tears.
It was over. His life, stolen from him. All for nothing. Not even selfish wizards to be used by.
He was alone.
Earth