McGonagall was silent until after Number 4 Privet Drive was out of sight. Harry wasn't sure what to make of the woman. Was she serious about leaving the Dursleys, or was she playing some kind of cruel game with him? Harry hardly dared to hope. She'd seemed genuine enough in her defense of him. She'd certainly given the Dursleys a piece of her mind, at any rate.

She took him to a small cafe and let him order anything he wanted. He ordered a pasta bowl and a fountain drink, while the Professor got a salad. As they were eating, McGonagall took a deep breath.

"I owe you an apology, Mr. Potter," she finally said.

Harry was taken aback. "Why?

"I was sent to explain the Wizarding World to you, which I have yet to do. I lost my temper towards your relatives, which is not something I'm proud of, even if—" she cut herself off, her nostrils flaring. "You must have many questions. Feel free to ask them. I promise I'll do my best to answer."

"How did my parents die?" Harry asked immediately.

McGonagall sighed. "We were involved in a war against a dark wizard and his followers at the time. Your parents were heavily involved, enough that You-Know Who wanted them dead."

"Who's You-Know-Who?" Harry asked,

McGonagall shuddered. "I am only saying his name once, Mr. Potter. I suggest you don't repeat it. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

McGonagall swallowed. "His name was Lord Voldemort. Anyways, your parents went into hiding. They were able to remain in hiding for months. But they were betrayed."

Harry's fists clenched. "They died protecting me," he said thickly.

"We don't know the exact details of how you survived," said McGonagall, "But you did. And You-Know-Who vanished that night. Our world believes that you somehow killed him."

Oh great, said Ace sarcastically. They've turned you into a hero.

Harry swallowed. "Does that mean that I'm famous?"

McGonagall nodded. "They call you the Boy Who Lived."

Harry clenched his fists. "But I didn't do anything. I'm famous because my parents died and I didn't? That's...that's..." he swallowed his anger, unable to continue.

McGonagall smiled softly. "They'd be proud of you," she said, her eyes misting. "You're very much like your mother, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He looked down. "What was she like?" Harry asked almost desperately.

McGonagall's smile turned sad. "She was one of my brightest students," she said, "She had a gift for Charms and Potions. She was trying for her Charms Mastery before the end. She was kind and sweet until her temper was aroused. Your father once described it as 'waking a dragon from a restful slumber'."

"What did he do to make her angry?"

McGonagall gave a rueful grin. "James Potter was a very different person as a student, I'm afraid. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that for a long time, James's crush was very one-sided."

Don't ask questions, a voice that sounded an awful lot like Vernon whispered. Harry swallowed. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Professor," he said, looking down.

McGonagall pursed her lips, and he cringed. She took a deep breath. "You're not bothering me, Mr. Potter. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall put her fork on the empty plate in front of her. "We must be off. However, before we shop for your school supplies, I'm going to take you to St Mungo's for a medical evaluation—don't give me that look, you need it."

Harry scowled. "I'm fine. I don't need—"

"This is not up for debate, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall flatly.

This is good for you, Harry, said Ace firmly. I know how you feel. If it were me, I'd be reluctant too. Just...your health is important. You are important.

But—

"...Mr. Potter? Are you alright?"

Harry started. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I just—I don't have any experience with hospitals. I don't know what to expect."

McGonagall nodded. "The Healer will perform an examination to determine what the best course of action to take will be to get you to a healthy weight. They'll determine which potions to prescribe, whether or not a specific diet regimen should be followed, and more."

"Will it hurt?"

McGonagall shook her head. "It will be perfectly painless. It shouldn't take too long, either. Ah, here we are."

They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place was obviously abandoned. The dummies were chipped, and some had cracks running through their blank faces. Their wigs were askew, and collecting dust. Thanks to his Aunt, Harry could tell that the clothing the dummies wore was out of date. Large signs on the doors read CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT.

McGonagall guided him to a window displaying a rather ugly dummy. It wore false eyelashes and the most hideous dress Harry had ever seen.

I had no idea clothing could be so offensive, Ace muttered, referring to the green pinafore dress the dummy wore.

"I'd like for Mr. Harry Potter here to be a given a full medical evaluation," she said.

Is she going senile? Harry wondered. That's a dummy...and it's nodding. Am I going senile?

You have a body comprised almost entirely of fire, Harry. A moving dummy shouldn't shock you so much.

Harry paled. The medical evaluation. She's going to find out, Ace!

Oh shi-shoot. Ace took a deep breath. There's nothing we can do, Harry. Not without arousing suspicion.

The dummy beckoned its jointed finger towards the glass. McGonagall turned towards Harry.

"Keep a hold on me, Mr. Potter. We're going through the glass."

"'Through'?" Harry repeated blankly.

McGonagall nodded. "Us witches and wizards use magic to disguise entrances to our world. Come now, we haven't got all day."

They stepped through the glass, and it felt to Harry like a sheet of cool water. He examined himself when they emerged on the other side, simultaneously relieved and puzzled that he was quite dry.

Their surroundings were entirely different. It was disorienting to Harry and Ace both. The new room seemed to be some kind of reception area. The rickety wooden chairs were mostly empty, though the people sitting in them were suffering from...Well, Harry honestly couldn't tell. One man was sitting next to another man, who was on fire. Harry knew what fire was supposed to look like—he was made from the stuff, after all. The flames that had enveloped this man were rainbow-colored. He didn't appear to be in pain. A wizard in lime-green robes strode up to him, holding a clipboard.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IS—" The man who wasn't on fire placed his hand over the other man's, who took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just—it's been a stressful week. We're getting married tomorrow."

"The spell was meant for a banner we were going to hang as decoration," said the other man. "It was Arcus Factus. I tried Finite Incantatem, but it didn't work."

The other man pulled out what looked to be a long stick. Harry glanced at McGonagall. "What is that?" he asked.

"That's a wand, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall.

"The counter-spell is Facti Normalem," said the man in the green robes, waving his wand. The fire went out. "Do try to be careful next time."

He followed McGonagall to a desk marked INQUIRIES. There wasn't a line. The plump witch behind the desk frowned at them. Her gaze slid over to Harry, and she gave a startled squeak.

"How can I help you, Harry Potter?" she asked excitedly.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "He's here for a medical evaluation."

"We can do that on the ground floor. Please proceed to Ward 7," she said, obviously flustered.

McGonagall nodded curtly. Harry followed her to the aforementioned room. The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak.

The Healer who walked in was tall and lanky. He had caramel skin and dark hair, his black eyes shining in anticipation. He was rather young, Harry thought. He couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty.

He's cute, said Ace happily.

Harry flushed. Ace! I didn't need to hear that!

He's got nothing on Marco though.

Ace!

"I am Healer Espinoza. I will be performing your examination today," he said proudly. He grinned at McGonagall. "Good to see you, Professor!"

McGonagall smiled back. "How's your internship coming along, Mr. Espinoza?"

The Healer beamed. "It's everything I wanted. Thank you so much for recommending me. I love it here!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. However, as much as I enjoy your company, small talk isn't the reason I came here."

Healer Espinoza nodded. "Right. Let's get started, shall we?" He pulled out a wand and started waving it in Harry's direction, muttering under his breath. The tip of the stick glowed yellow. Espinoza frowned and waved his stick at a quill sitting in the corner, which rose and started scribbling furiously on a nearby parchment.

"Something's not right," Espinoza muttered. "You can't be—No, this spell is never wrong. But I've never seen anything like this before. Unless—Harry your body is over eighty percent fire," he said slowly.

McGonagall blinked. "Pardon?"

Espinoza exhaled. "Portgas?" He muttered to himself. "But that's—I thought—"

Harry felt a thrill of shock ripple through his body. "You know Ace?" he asked breathlessly.

There's no way. It can't be, said Ace numbly.

Espinoza exhaled. "I was the doctor on a crew allied to Whitebeard," he said as if in a trance. "But the war. I remember it like a dream. A very vivid dream. Kizaru massacred our entire crew. And I woke up in a new body, a new world," his mouth clamped shut, and he glanced at McGonagall, then at Harry. "Are you Ace?"

McGonagall cleared her throat. "What nonsense are you going on about? Please explain what's going on with Harry. I brought him here for a medical examination, after all."

Espinoza nodded absently. "He ate a cursed fruit, Professor. I don't know how he got a hold of it, but there's no undoing it. You never answered my question, Harry Potter."

Harry tilted his head. "Ace is a part of me, but we're separate people. Does that make sense?"

The Healer nodded, looking thoughtful. "So he didn't get reincarnated in the same way as I did. I wonder if everyone who died in our old world is somehow on this one, or if it's just a select few of us?"

McGonagall looked impatient. "Explain what's going on, Healer Espinoza. Please."

"I'll do my best, Professor. To start with, this isn't my first life. I'm not sure how or why, but I was reborn with full knowledge of my other life in a different world."

The Professor took a deep breath. "And what does this have to do with Harry's body?"

"In that other world, there are these things called Devil Fruits. Eating one changes the chemical makeup of the body, and each one is unique. Harry ate one called the Flame-Flame Fruit, which turned his body into fire. However, it's not a complete transformation, for if it were, Harry wouldn't be able to walk and talk like a normal person. The fruit simply gave him the ability to turn any part of his body to fire at any given moment."

That doesn't make any sense, said Ace, When I was alive, bullets would sail right through me. I didn't have to activate my powers to avoid them. Can you ask him about that, Harry?

Harry did so. Espinoza nodded. "It's not always conscious, I admit. The human mind processes a lot of information every second. I imagine that you trigger your powers automatically when you're facing a threat."

"So what you're saying is that Harry ate a fruit from another world and can now turn to fire," said McGonagall, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Do you realize how ridiculous—Oh dear," she said faintly.

Harry was standing, his hands aflame. Espinoza took a step back, analyzing him. "It's not as powerful as Ace's fire, but there's no doubt it's the same Devil Fruit. You said that he's a part of you now?"

"His spirit was in the fruit," Harry explained. "Honestly, he's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Aside from learning about my magic, I mean."

"That reminds me," Espinoza flicked his wand at the parchment, a dark expression on his face. He turned towards McGonagall. "This kid is damned lucky that he's not dead or an Obscurial," he said as the parchment floated over to her.

She read the parchment, her face slowly draining of color as her eyes drew closer to the bottom of the page. "Those bastards, " she snarled.

"I take it you know who did this to him?"

McGonagall nodded. "He was given to his Muggle relatives."

Espinoza's eyes narrowed. "The Boy Who Lived has been living with Muggles? Not that I have anything against them, mind, but it seems like a rather odd decision. And with what these particular Muggles did..."

Harry felt his stomach drop. They know, he thought miserably.

His body, broken and bloody. Vernon leering over him, his fists caked in Harry's blood.

"This is what freaks like you deserve,"

Then the white room. The nurses who swallowed up Vernon's lies. The one who didn't but couldn't do anything.

Weren't the cops supposed to help? They came and left. They left him to his uncle.

Because he wasn't worth saving.

Espinoza knelt next to Harry, bringing looking him in the eyes. "I'm going to help you, Harry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He wiped his eyes. "Your growth has been stunted due to lack of proper nutrition. Nutrient potions should help, but they aren't a cure-all. You'll need to make sure you're eating properly . I'll give everything you need to Professor McGonagall. Make sure you follow my written instructions. I've given her a set of exercises you're to do three to five times a week. Don't overdo it, or you'll hurt yourself."

Harry nodded. "Yes sir,"

Espinoza grinned. "Please, call me Leo. Keep in touch, Harry. If you need a pen pal, I'm here for you."

They bid farewell to the Healer, and McGonagall escorted him out of St Mungo's. Once they were back in the Muggle world, the Professor arched an eyebrow at him.

"So, Mr. Potter, would you care to explain what that was? Who's Ace?"

Harry looked down. "You're going to think, I'm crazy, Professor," he mumbled.

McGonagall chuckled. "I saw you light your hands on fire on purpose. Magic like that, even with a wand, is extraordinarily complicated. I've learned that one of my best students remembers a past life—Dear Merlin, I'm going to need a migraine potion—from another world. I don't think that at all,"

I want to try something, said Ace slowly.

Harry frowned. What are you planning?

Would you be willing to let me take control?

You can do that?

Not without your permission, I think, Ace assured him. But I want to know if I can.

I think that if you can, it would make things easier to explain. Go ahead.

Fire enveloped Harry completely. McGonagall rushed forward, drawing a similar stick to Leo's. As suddenly as the fire appeared, it receded. A new man stood in Harry's place. He was older, likely in his early twenties. He wore no shirt and an orange cowboy hat. He grinned at McGonagall.

"I am Portgas D. Ace, Professor."

McGonagall was clutching her chest, her face ghost-white. "I am not a young woman, Mr. Ace—"

"My last name is Portgas," said Ace, "And my apologies. I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think the transition would be quite so...dramatic. Honestly, I didn't think I'd be in my original body."

"You're possessing Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, her eyes narrowing. "Possession is very dark magic, Mr. Portgas. You'd better hope for your sake that you can explain yourself."