Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the source material for this fanfiction and is owned by J.K. Rowling.
Neat rows of starry-eyed children waddled down the halls of the Natural History Museum, eagerly craning their necks to get their last glances at the various exhibitions on display as they moved along. Their pace seemed to slow the closer they got to the exit. Desperate to spend as much time as they could in the curiosity-invoking building before they had to board their rickety, and unpleasant smelling, school bus and make the trip back to Surrey. To celebrate the new decade, their school sent every child on a field trip to the museum and had charged a nominal fee of only £1.99 per head.
One diminutive child hung back at the end of the rows, a snail's crawl compared to the already leisurely pace the other kids were taking. A mess of unruly black hair crowned his head and covered a jagged lightning shaped scar on his forehead. His thin face framed by his thick, round glasses - barely held together by a whole bunch of tape and a touch of luck. His bright green eyes drank in the sights before him, savouring the sensory stimuli as much as he could. He knew after this trip, it would be back to his brain-numbingly boring, and physically demanding chore filled life. For however long this trip lasted, it provided him a reprieve from that life - and his rotten relatives.
He swivelled his head back to the front as he heard a voice call out for his name.
"Harry! Catch up with the rest of the group! We don't want you getting lost, now do we?!" a voice hollered back at the boy from the front of the children.
'I almost wish I could,' Harry thought.
With a sigh, Harry tried to shamble forward as fast as he could to close the widening gap between himself and the next child in front of him. It was tough to do however, considering that Harry had to be mindful of not tripping over from stepping on the hems of his oversized-trousers, while simultaneously pulling the waist up, the belt still being an inch too loose even at the final notch. He grimaced and bent down to fold up the hems of his trousers, folding up the sleeves of his shirt so he could work with free hands, careful not to crease them too badly. Aunt Petunia would scold him if he "didn't look after his clothes". In truth, all his clothes were hand-me-downs from his cousin Dudley, a well-fed boy whose clothes from years past had no issue being oversized for the scrawny Harry.
He stood back up and made a short jog to catch up with the group, and by now they were gathered near the entrance of the museum. His teacher seemed to be on the payphone with someone, and from the looks of her wildly gesticulating hands and increasing spittle flying with every word - the conversation did not seem to be a happy one. Despite the cacophony of children's voices, Harry heard the disgruntled smack of the phonebooth's door as his teacher slammed it back when she walked out. She took a moment to pat down her attire and take a few breaths before gazing down at her watch and sighed unhappily.
She cleared her throat and began, "Alright children, pay attention!"
Wide-eyes curiously stared back at her, mostly quiet but a rowdy few carried on with whispered jokes and not-so-subtle snickering. Harry noticed that his cousin Dudley and his gang comprised all of the rowdy few.
"Shush Dudley. Anyways, our bus back to Surrey has been delayed and is scheduled to arrive in half an hour. But seeing as we can't enter the museum exhibits again, you are all free to explore the gift shop," when she heard the excited ooh's and aah's she quickly added, "And only the gift shop!"
It did not take much more than that to send the kids bolting to the gift shop, to look at and fantasise about all the oddities and souvenirs in there. Harry hadn't been inflamed with nearly the same passion to gawk at overpriced dust collectors. He still shuffled along to the gift shop nonetheless, at least the air conditioning would be preferable to the summer heat.
On the way in, Harry spotted a black haired couple walking by, holding hands with their young daughter in the middle. He observed their happy faces and the joyful scene, spotting a few bags around the man's arm. Harry heard the lady wish her daughter a happy birthday and bent over to nuzzle and kiss her cheek before the father picked her up and carried the small girl in his arms to plant a peck of his own on her cheek, accidentally pressing his glasses against the side of his daughter's head and getting blurry lenses as a result. His wife chuckled and pulled it off his face, wiping the delicate lenses on her jumper and putting it back on slightly crooked. The girl giggled, eliciting a similar response from the happy couple.
Harry glumly entered the store after witnessing the scene, 'Must be nice to have a birthday like that…'
His own birthday was just around the corner, in a week's time in fact. He'd overheard his aunt and uncle's conversation, deeming that paying for his school trip would be more than sufficient as Harry's advanced tenth birthday present. While admittedly more than he'd received before, it paled in comparison to the eventful birthdays the Dursleys threw for Dudley, their golden boy. Dudley got gifts in droves from his parents. Some of it he liked and wanted to keep, most of it he openly shamed his parents for buying for him, telling them "it wasn't something he liked" or "Piers already has this one!". Dudley, in his "spirit of generosity", would give Harry one toy each year which he'd unboxed and didn't want. But he couldn't let Harry think he was special - or that Dudley liked him - so Dudley always made sure to break some part of the toy he was giving away first.
'Speaking of Dudley…' Harry noted Dudley and his gang staring at him after he walked in, the ring of the door chime reminiscent of a signal that their prey had fallen for the trap. He saw Dudley tell his goons something before a cocky smile plastered itself on his face as he sauntered over.
"What're you doing here Potter? I'm 'fraid there isn't anything free here. Tryin' to nick somethin' off the shelves are you?" Dudley sneered, his voice a few decibels higher than normal. The other children looked at Harry as if he'd done something wrong now.
"I'm not a thief!" Harry defiantly rebutted.
"My mum says your parents were good-for-nothing sort of folks. Crime might run in the family, you know?" Dudley taunted, "who's to say you won't turn out like 'em?"
Harry clenched his jaw as his patient strained thin. Dudley noticed however, and his grin grew wider.
"Is little Potter angry? Did I get it right?" Dudley jabbed. He turned around to his gang and announced, "Potter's going to be a thief everyone! Hide your wallets!"
They started laughing, joining up to Dudley's side to further torment Harry.
"Thief!"
"Criminal!"
"Loser!"
Harry had had enough. He blinked away the stinging in his eyes and turned 180, opening the door of the gift shop with a swing before Dudley grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.
"Where'd you think you're goin' Potter? Check his pockets boys, he might have stolen something!" Dudley commanded. His gang now advanced, grabbing onto Harry's shirt and pulling him back into the store.
"Get off me!" Harry pried their fingers off his shirt and tried to dash out the door. He was halted when the much bigger Dudley finally got more physical, clenching Harry's collar like a vice.
Dudley scrunched up Harry's collar and brought him face to face, ignoring Harry's feeble attempts to muscle his hand off the collar.
"Mister shopkeeper!" Dudley yelled, "we caught a thief for you!"
An elderly man looked up from the keychain he was processing a transaction for, "What's that boy? A thief?!"
Harry's face burned at the false accusation as he desperately cried out, "W-w-wait! I didn't steal anything! G-get off me!"
Harry saw that the elderly man had begun walking towards their group. The panic started kicking in overdrive for Harry. If he was thinking rationally, Harry would have realised nothing would happen to him but a little humiliation since he didn't have any items on his person. But the stress of the situation took over, plunging Harry into irrationality. He could only worry about his punishment from Uncle Vernon if they told him Harry was caught stealing. Harry gave up on his futile effort to pry Dudley's morning-sausage-thick fingers off his shirt, and decided to treat it as its resembling counterpart. Harry took a hard bite down and felt Dudley's fingers release as he yelped back in pain.
The quick jerk back of his hand, combined with naturally poor spatial awareness, meant that the rotund boy smacked a display snowglobe off its shelf. Time seemed to slow as all the parties involved watched the ball of glass shatter on the marble flooring with a sharp ping!
"What in the world are you kids doing?!" questioned the shopkeeper scathingly. In the tussle, it seemed the elderly man had come within earshot of the rambunctious lot.
Horror painted itself on the faces of the boys. Dudley gaped at the broken globe and tried to stutter out a nervous excuse while Piers audibly gulped and stared down at his own shoes. Not one to miss an opportunity, Harry looked towards the shopkeeper and pointed his finger at Dudley.
"He did it!" Harry exclaimed, before taking advantage of the tense situation to dash out of the unobstructed door.
It took a little flustered sputtering before Dudley's brain caught on, and he barged right out of the gift shop with his lackeys in tow to chase after Harry. They heard the shopkeeper shout after them but they ignored it in favour of hunting down their prey. They also heard their teacher yelling at them to stop but the efforts were in vain.
"I'm gonna beat you black and blue Potter!" screamed the chasing Dudley.
'Try catching me first!' Harry privately thought.
Harry might have been scrawny, and otherwise rather unathletic from spending most of his time cooped up in a cupboard under the stairs, but baggy clothes or not he knew he had the stamina to outrun the chubby Dudley. He saw a busy crossing nearing the end of its pedestrian green light and made the decision to sprint for it.
He weaved through the bustling crowd nimbly. His small frame gave him the advantage in navigating his way through the current of bodies. He looked back at Dudley and saw that he and his gang were significantly slowed from being bumped and bounced around by the sea of adults. He'd made it to the end of the crossing before the light signalled red, whereas Dudley and his crew were on the other side. Jostled back three steps for every one they took, they found themselves unable to get barely halfway before the colour changed. Not willing to risk it against the traffic, and cowed by already being in tons of trouble as it is, Dudley shot Harry a dirty glare between his laboured breathing before turning back to head to the museum.
Harry hadn't fared too much better. He rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath from the chase. The implications of the day's event had finally began to dawn on him.
'I'm a goner… Uncle Vernon's going to kill me!' Harry concluded despondently. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed vigorously out of frustration.
He knew he'd been sent to bed without dinner for weeks straight for much less than this. The calluses on his palms and fingers were already starting to feel phantom pains at the thought of how much chores he would be subjected to. Menial and laborious ones that he'd likely have to repeat over and over despite getting it right the first time, purely out of spite.
'I don't even know why they hate me so much. I never did them wrong did I? From what Aunt Petunia says I was just left to them as a baby…' Harry sighed, 'maybe my parents really did do something awful… But even then, it's hardly fair to blame me for it is it?"
With a long breath to reignite his dampened courage, Harry was about to take his first step back to the opposite street via the crossing when he was stopped by a peculiar sound. He heard a distinct hissing sound and looked around to see if anyone else had heard it too. If they did, none showed it. They carried on walking and talking, paying no heed to the strange hissing. Harry found a quieter corner and focused on listening.
"ss… H-... ssto-... He-... Help me… ssstop it…" the mysterious hissing formed itself to intelligible words.
Harry swallowed and clenched his jaw before jogging in the direction of the hissing. The hissing became sharper and more distinct as he got closer. Full sentences could be picked up now.
"Go away! Sssomeone help me! Ssstop it! Get away from me!" the voice now distressingly said.
Harry turned a corner and saw the source of hissing. He witnessed three teens on the street, older than him but by how much he could not tell, poking at a brown snake nestled in a wicker basket with a long stick, chuckling to themselves. The snake had its mouth open and head cocked back, dodging the attempts to poke it. Harry noticed why the snake wouldn't defend itself - it had a distinct lack of venomous fangs. From Harry's point-of-view, the snake was all gums and no teeth. He felt empathy for the creature - clearly harmless, but hated for some reason. Wanting to be left alone but still harassed nonetheless. In many ways, it mirrored Harry's own home life. Before he could think rationally about it, his body and mouth took over.
Harry sprinted at the three teens, "Hey! Stop it!"
"Huh?" The boy with the stick stopped poking the brown snake to take a look at who had just shouted at them. He saw Harry and laughed. "Look guys, we got ourselves a little superhero!"
Harry's face reddened but he put himself in between the stick and the snake. He took a look back at the creature and found its curious gaze on his back, mouth closed and coiled in the basket.
"Can't you see that the snake's harmless?! Stop hurting it!" Harry pleaded with the teens.
"Oh bugger off kid, we're not hurting it. Besides, why do you care? Snakes kill people everyday. Can't we have a little fun with one?" The boy with the stick now swatted lightly at Harry's arm, trying to get him to move out of the way.
"It's not right… They're still living things! Besides, this one doesn't even have teeth - it hasn't hurt anyone!" Harry resolutely argued, standing his ground against the boy with the stick.
"Run along kid, it's none of your damn business. That barmy weirdo and his pet snake have been irritating us for days on end!"
Harry grit his teeth. His mind tried processing at breakneck pace to think of something to say. It finally landed on, "It doesn't even have fangs! Too scared to poke something that might actually bite?"
As soon as the words left Harry's mouth, he wished he'd never had a mouth to begin with. 'Why did I say that?!'
Predictably, the stick wielder lost his calmer attitude with Harry. Anger took over.
"The hell did you say?! You callin' me a coward?!" The boy lifted his stick up high, ready to whack with it.
Harry shut his eyes, put his arms up to cover his face and head and braced for impact. 'At least it's not Uncle Vernon swinging.'
"Ed, mate, stop it," a hand had grabbed onto stick-bearer Ed's arm, "He's just a kid mate. He doesn't know what he's sayin'. Let it go."
Ed turned to look at his friend, chewing on his lip for a moment before turning back.
"Tsk. Screw it, whatever. I'm not going to stand here and argue with a kid like you. You've spoiled the fun anyways, you're lucky you're not older. Otherwise I'd have given you a proper beating." Ed threw the stick on the ground and turned away, having lost interest in tormenting the animal and stalked off. His friends shot Harry apologetic looks and followed in his footsteps.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Did you understand me human?" he heard the snake hiss.
Harry jumped a little in shock and turned around. He eyed the snake curiously, wondering if he was hallucinating or if this really was some magical talking snake.
"Y-you can talk…?" Harry asked.
"All snakes can talk, human. I'm more surprised that you can speak my tongue!"
Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. 'Their tongue…?'
"Wait… do you mean I'm spea-" Harry started, before he was cut off by someone's shouting.
"Thief!" someone yelled.
Harry spun around in panic, hands in the air "I-I didn't s-steal anything! I p-promise! Check my pockets!"
He'd thought someone from the museum had caught up to him. Or worse, a policeman was here to arrest him. But he was surprised to see that the person accusing him of thievery was someone brand new to him. The man looked mid-thirties, dressed in some strange white tunic and sandals, and was pointing directly at him.
It was only when Harry sneaked a glance at the rug the snake's wicker basket was on that he spotted an ornately decorated flute and a locked money box. Harry concluded that the man must be some performer - a snake charmer the telly called it.
During one of the stolen peeks Harry took at the TV when the Dursleys gathered in the living room, he saw a snake charmer play his flute while the cobra in front of him danced and swayed to the melody. Except that this strange man didn't seem to fit the bill quite right. His snake was decidedly not a venomous cobra. And furthermore, this man looked as sourcream white as Harry's neighbours. The snake charmer he saw was from an exotic tropical region with darkly tanned skin.
"I swear I'm not a thief mister, I just happened to see a few boys poking your snake with a stick and tried to stop it," Harry gestured to the money box "nothing's missing, I swear it."
The man eyed Harry suspiciously as he bent down to check on the snake, finding it unharmed he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself "... go to the gents… bloody kids… can't appreciate art…"
The tunic-wearing man shook his head and grinned slightly at Harry. "Well, I guess I owe you thanks boy. I'm Jake. You saved ole' Mira here."
"Mira?" Harry cocked his head sideways.
"The snake," Jake gestured, "she's called Mira. Been with me since I got my driver's licence! A gift from me ole' man to get in the family business."
Harry thought he heard the snake hiss in agreement. A realisation popped into Harry's mind that made his face sour.
"Hey wait a minute, does that mean you're the one that pulled out her teeth?" Harry accusingly inquired.
Jake looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "She… was given to me like this. Dad de-fanged her before he passed her to me. Says it's a necessity in snake-charming business. 'Can't risk dying just 'cause your buddy's in a bad mood that day' he used to say."
"That's awful."
"It is. I won't deny it. But to Dad, it was better the snake got hurt than his kid. I'm just glad ole' Mira here doesn't hold me accountable for it!" Jake reached down to pat Mira's head, earning himself a gumful chewing by the snake on his hand instead.
Jake sat on his rug and pat the spot next to him, "Wanna sit? You look a little haggard."
Harry was about to deny the man's offer, anxious to get back before he missed the school bus back home, but as he was turning in his stance he saw Jake's small grin falter and his eyes went downcast. Harry bit his lip and prayed he'd still be able to make it on time later.
"Well alright, but not for long, I wouldn't want to worry my teacher," Harry explained as he sat cross legged on the rug, feeling rather odd in the situation as people started passing by and staring at him. Strangely, the number of people who stopped to drop a couple pence or pound notes would increase dramatically. Not that Harry would notice while in conversation with the strange snake charmer.
"Teacher? School trip is it?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, to the museum around the corner."
"Lovely place that. I remember Dad brought me a couple times. When he got off days from performing anyway."
"Performing? You and your dad are full blown performers?"
"Dad was a performer. Had to retire after a stroke. Mum takes care of 'im at home now. Snake charmer just like me. Runs in the family, you know? Dad, grand dad, and great-grand dad were all snake charmers. Dad told me great-grand dad MacDonnel learnt it during a missionary trip to India and passed on the art," Jake explained.
Harry listened on intently, curiosity had gotten the better of him and Jake's life seemed plenty interesting.
Jake let out a sad sigh, "I'm 'fraid I might've let them down though. All the way till Dad, they all performed in the big circuses. But I got kicked out from the circus troupe pretty early. Never could get Mira to follow the flute's commands. Suppose she's too proud to get called a circus animal…"
"Well, I'm sure they're happy you tried your best at it."
The snake charmer smiled at the attempt from the kid to comfort him, "I've said Mira's a gift from Dad right? Well this right here," He picked up the ornately decorated wooden pungi flute, "is a gift from Momma. Carved it herself for Dad when they got married."
Harry observed the flute Jake picked up for a moment. It had a big decorated bulb near the mouth piece, and was carved out of some deep red wood. Slight chips in the blue and red paint that decorated the bulb betrayed its age and use. The most eye catching detail was the bright gold chain and pendant wrapped around the bulb.
"Dad wanted me to find a pretty wife who'd carve me one of my own," Jake chuckled, " Momma gave up on that dream pretty quick. She gave me Dad's flute after he retired."
"It's beautiful Mr. Jake," Harry commented.
"Shucks, I'll let Momma know her work's appreciated. She told me she used to be good at woodworking when she was younger, but quit it after becoming a full-time fortune teller in the same circus Dad was in. But shortly after Dad hung up the gloves, so did she. The wonder couple, snake charmer and fortune teller duo Mr. and Mrs. Krewitt had their last show twelve years ago. But taking care of Dad is no easy feat when it comes to cash. Momma went back to carving and selling wooden sculptures on the side to support 'im."
Jake noticed Harry eyeing the gold necklace that wrapped around the bulb. He unclasped it and unwrapped it from the bulb, handing it off to Harry to have a closer look.
"A family heirloom from my mother's side. Says it's been in her family for generations. Never understood the symbol though. Maybe someone in her line was Egyptian? I doubt it though, Momma's maiden name was Trelawney. Sounds about as Egyptian as a Cornish pasty."
Harry gingerly accepted the gold necklace. The chain was thin but looked strong and durable. The pendant was vividly unique. An ornate medallion with an hourglass in the middle, suspended by two pins in its side.
"It looks like-,"
"-Like it can be spun right?" Jake smirked when Harry looked up at him bewildered that he'd completed the sentence.
"I've tried it before kid, thing doesn't budge an ounce no matter what I do. I've tried pressing it, tossing it, throwing it, even took a screwdriver to it to see if it'll move but it stays put. Must be some ridiculous welding to keep it that tight with such little pins."
Harry looked at the hourglass intently. While he would never admit it to anyone, Harry had abnormal experiences before. When Aunt Petunia tried to cut his messy mop of hair, it kept growing back no matter what was done to it in a matter of hours. Even after shaving him bald, it took a couple of hours and a few tears for him to have his unruly locks of jet black hair again. When Uncle Vernon made him particularly angry once, the mugs in the kitchen started bursting one by one. And when Dudley had chased him around for the first few times of his 'Harry-hunting' game, Harry couldn't yet outrun the boy but he evaded capture by closing his eyes and wishing he was someplace else; and he'd open them back just to discover that he had indeed gone to that exact 'someplace else'. In all these abnormal instances, Harry felt something swell within him. A strange feeling that warmed him in his core. He came to like the feeling but kept it well suppressed - Aunt Petunia would go ballistic after these sorts of instances.
As Harry handled the golden hourglass pendant in his hands, he felt the familiar swell. The warmth started flooding through his body, from his core it seemed to expand outwards - flooding his veins down to his very fingertips. The golden pendant in his hands began to shine just that bit brighter, the hourglass sang its siren song of temptation to touch it, to give it a gentle nudge and see the mechanism in motion. Harry's cat of curiosity found itself straining against its cage.
A small finger laid itself against the hourglass. Just as Harry was about to indulge his curiosity, Jake suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
"Harry!" Jake shouted.
A startled Harry drew a sharp breath of air, but the jerk of his finger had accidentally pushed against the hourglass, and it now started rotating like a gyroscope. Harry felt a tugging sensation from the pendant, and time seemed to slow to a crawl around him. He looked in panic and terror at Jake but he found Jake moving strangely. It was as if the man had started moving backwards. As the hourglass rotated faster, so did the world around him reverse at an increased pace. Jake's actions quickened to a reverse blur, and slowly everything blurred around Harry.
Harry couldn't handle the sensory overload. The world around him turned white, a sharp high pitched ringing was present in his ears, and his head felt like it would explode. His forehead especially burned like an inferno. The boy reached his limits of consciousness. He white faded to black and the ringing in his ears faded into a woman's scream.
Harry had a final thought before succumbing to the darkness, 'I'm so sorry about the pendant Mr. Jake…'
"Hey… you… -ight there?" a voice sounded off in his mind. A hand had tried nudging him awake.
Harry tried to turn away. Based on his body clock, he still had two more hours of sleep left before having to wake up and prepare breakfast for the Dursleys. Two precious hours to help him survive the day.
He felt another push against his side, and the voice sounded off again, "Kid… Hey kid…"
Harry grumbled silently to himself. There's no way Aunt Petunia would be awake this early to get him awake. This had to be some practical joke.
A harder shake to his shoulders this time, "Kid? You still alive there?"
'Since when did Aunt Petunia get such a deep voice. Or even Dudley for that matter…', Harry thought to himself. His recent memories began filtering in.
'Dressing for the museum… Have to catch up… Gift shop… Not a thief… Dudley chase…Not a thief… Talking snake? Man's voice? Wait a minute…' Harry's brows furrowed as he tried to recall the man's name.
Harry's eyes shot open as he sat up, "Mr. Jake!"
"Woah there! Don't give me such a damn scare boy. You alright there?" He heard a voice ask from beside him.
Harry turned, expecting to see the pasty man in his white tunic but he was greeted with an unfamiliar face. "Ja- S-sorry… Um… Who are you?"
"Wonderful manners…" The balding middle-aged man quipped.
He offered a burly hand to Harry, offering to help him up from the floor. "You can call me Tom. I'm the barman at the Leaky Cauldron. What's your name kid?"
Harry grasped the hand and found himself almost flying up with how strongly Tom yanked his small frame up. "Oof.. Thanks," Harry dusted himself off and adjusted his glasses, noting that it was almost pitch black outside save for the light from the lamps. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
Tom hummed appraisingly at Harry's introduction, looking him up and down.
"Potter? Don't recall seeing him around though…" Tom muttered to himself, Harry managed to pick up on it though.
"Where are you from Harry? How'd you end up passed out by the street all alone in Diagon Alley at the crack of dawn?" Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I-..." Harry then realised, he couldn't quite remember how he ended up where he was. His latest memory was talking to Jake after saving Mira. Well that wasn't quite the truth. The latest memory was hearing a woman scream bloody murder in the dark. But he surmised that no one really needed to know such information.
"I honestly don't know… and don't remember…" Harry looked around puzzled, "hang on, did you say Diagon Alley?"
Harry may not know much of London, hell, he didn't even know much of his own neighbourhood with how little the Dursley's let him out of the house, afraid to let the world see the 'resident freak' but he did study the map of London's public transport a little before the field trip in case of an emergency, and he did not recall seeing a 'Diagon Alley' anywhere on it.
"Aye. This right here's Diagon Alley," Tom thumped the pavement with his foot, "you tellin' me you've never been here before?"
"No sir, never been," Harry shook his head.
"Can't be right… that'd make you one extremely sheltered wizard!" Tom laughed to himself, "or a mug-"
Tom's mouth clamped shut as he looked down at Harry in realisation and all-too-late alarm, Tom was getting paler by the second. Tom's eyes skittered back and forth, looking around the area as if trying to see if another person was around.
"A wizard?" Harry asked in confusion.
Tom uh'd and urm'd as his mind tried processing for an excuse, "It's - it's just a joke around these parts, haha. Never heard the term sheltered wizard before? Musn't be from the same county as me then haha, just a saying…"
Harry eyed Tom sceptically as the barman rubbed the top of his head and looked away as he tried to tell Harry all about 'the common sayings 'round these parts.'
'He's an awful liar!' thought Harry as he heard Tom continue to ramble.
Finally though, Tom cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure, satisfied that he'd rambled on long enough that Harry must've forgotten the slip of his tongue. He was wrong though.
"Alright Harry, you listen to me well. You're not supposed to be here. It's… not a place for kids like you. Now, I've got to pick up some eggs and rashers from down the street or my guests will riot when they wake up. Why don't you follow along and we can try to sort out your predicament?" Tom began walking without waiting. He figured that bringing Harry to the market wouldn't hurt. It was right on the edge of Diagon Alley and it was still early enough that they shouldn't see anyone else along the way before they reached, plus the market was a place where they still did most things by hand instead of wands. He still had to discern if Harry was a proper muggle that somehow ended up here, or if Harry was a budding wizard.
"By the way Harry, who's Mr. Jake? You yelled his name as you woke up. Scared me half to death too," Tom asked.
"He's…" Harry thought carefully about just how much to reveal to Tom. He liked the man, he was friendly, and Harry could tell he was genuinely trying to help him out. But, Harry was afraid to reveal the whole story, lest Tom think Harry was a freaky abomination too like his relatives.
"He's the last person I remember talking to before I woke up," Harry settled on his answer. Playing his cards close seemed the best call to make right now.
"Any description to match the name? Maybe we could look for him too?"
"Well, he was wearing a tunic. And he badly needed a sun-tan. Oh! And he had a pet snake with him!"
"A pet snake? Couldn't have chosen to feed a dog or a knea- a cat instead?" Tom caught himself, trying to appear as muggle as he could with his limited knowledge of them. Harry was picking up on it though.
"The snake's friendly. She was quite pretty."
"Cold day in hell before I touch one willingly."
Harry noted that a mellow orange had begun to bleed into the dark sky. Morning was upon them.
"I think I could find my way home by the tube from the nearest station," Harry absentmindedly began patting his pockets while walking. He knew he didn't have enough pocket change for a train ticket from London to Surrey, much less the bus ride afterward back to Little Whinging but he doubted the staff would turn away a lost ten year old boy. When he felt nothing but his own thigh as he patted his trouser pockets, he turned them out to show empty pockets on both sides. Harry groaned. He could have at least bought a couple sweets or a bag of crisps to tide him over till he reached.
Tom had seen the boy searching for what appeared to be his money, not that he could help with it. Sickles and Galleons may as well be paperweights in the muggle world. He didn't know how the heck muggles travelled through a 'tube', nor did he know where the nearest station would be. He sincerely doubted Diagon Alley had any 'tubes'. Maybe he could try his luck tossing the boy through the Floo near the market after obliviating him and hoping it's the right address?
He could just obliviate the poor kid and send him out the brick exit of the Alley at the Leaky Cauldron to fend for himself among the muggles but he didn't think he could bring himself to do so. Not when he's heard stories of how the muggles have been treating each other as of late.
"Say, Harry. What about your parents? Shouldn't we try to contact them?" Tom wondered. The boy had suggested going home on his own, and while Tom could appreciate the independent nature, it seemed out of place for a wee lad like Harry. A kid like him would usually be crying and screaming, lost in an unknown place far from home.
Harry looked away as they walked, His small voice going softer, "They passed when I was a baby."
"Ah," was all Tom could dumbly enunciate at the reveal, "... my apologies Harry. Should'a known better…"
"It's alright Mr. Tom. I'm staying with my aunt Petunia in case you were wondering," shared Harry, tripping over the front of his trouser hems slightly as they walked.
"Well, it's good you're still with family then I suppose. Although…" Tom inspected the boy up and down again, noting the oversized and discoloured cream shirt and baggy black trousers fraying at the seams, "I'm guessing that's not a voluntary fashion choice is it?"
Harry let loose a small laugh at the barman's joke. "No sir, no it's not. They were my cousin Dudley's. He gets new clothes every season so uncle Vernon gives me the old ones, says I'll 'grow into them eventually.'"
"You could be done growing and you still wouldn't be the right size for those, boy! Can't believe your uncle is handing down a grown man's clothes for you to wear!" Tom was shocked. He knew certain families that had to practise handing down clothes out of necessity but usually it was from sibling to sibling, not from grown man to a child.
Harry laughed harder this time, a bright smile plastered on his face as his glasses frames glinted from the risen morning sun, "Dudley's the same age as me sir!"
Tom's face soured and Harry laughed even more. The math did not quite add up in Tom's mind. If Harry was the same age as his cousin, why wouldn't they both be getting new clothes? Obviously if the Dudley boy was getting new shirts every time the leaves changed colour, they could afford the same for Harry could they not? Then the matter of the size difference came up. Dudley must be very well taken care of for him to wear adult sized clothing at ten years old. But the boy before him was thin and small. Anger began simmering in Tom.
"Harry, what kind of-"
"Tom!" a woman's voice called out, cutting him off, "here for the usual order, love?!"
Tom turned to the voice, realising he and Harry had walked on auto-pilot right to the entrance of the market. He saw a familiar face waving at him from a stall counter.
"Giselle!" Tom called back, hoping his voice carried over the bustling market. Tom had steered Harry to the right direction with a hand on his back and started making his way to the woman.
Harry observed the matron of the stall as they got closer. She was a tanned woman, looked to be in her mid forties. She wore a white apron over a yellow, collared, button up with the sleeves rolled up. He noticed splotches of red on the apron. Combined with the meat cleaver still stuck in a chopping block, Harry concluded she must be a butcher of sorts. He saw her shift her gaze from Tom, to himself.
"Never told me you had a kid, Tom. Who's the unlucky lady?" teased Giselle.
"Shut yer' trap. Found the boy havin' a nap on the cobblestone on my way here. He's lost, hopin' to help him find his way," Tom gave Harry a small pat on his back, jerking him forward slightly, "Harry, meet Giselle. Giselle, Harry."
"Good morning Ms. Giselle," Harry gave a small nod to the butcher, his glasses shifting down his nose in the process. Harry had to push them up quickly, looking away in embarrassment.
Giselle squealed as she reached out to pinch Harry's cheeks, "Ooh! Isn't he just a darling?"
"Ow! Ow!" Harry pried his cheek from Giselle's fingers, earning himself a red patch of skin as a result, 'She pinches like a crab!'
Tom chuckled and cleared his throat, "Well anyways Giselle, I've come to pick up that special package."
Giselle kept her eyes on Harry, still attempting to get another pinch of his cheek. Her efforts were thwarted by his nimble dodging, "Love, you never buy anything other than twenty sickles of bacon every morning, what are you talking about?"
'Sickles?' Harry wondered.
"Y'know, the special package! The one we discussed last week!"
"What in blue blazes have you been smo-" Giselle paused as she finally looked up at Tom and saw him staring at her with urgency. While Harry was still dodging her fingers, she saw Tom mouth something silently to her.
Play along. Muggle test.
Understanding dawned on Giselle and she looked down on the young Harry, a small pout on her face. "Yeah I remember now Tom. Sorry about that. I'll go get it prepared real quick."
Harry was relieved that his cheeks were no longer in danger. He saw Giselle walk to the back of her stall, obstructed by a curtain of hanging beads. She came out almost as quick as she came in, carrying a slab of what looked to be pork belly and a parcel wrapped in parchment sitting on top of it.
"Here you go Harry. For being my favourite customer of the day!" Giselle handed off the parchment wrap to Harry.
"Guess I'm chopped liver then?" grunted Tom.
"Thank you very much Ms. Giselle. Wha- Woah!" Harry had nearly dropped it when he took hold of it. He hadn't expected it to weigh as much as it did.
Giselle laughed heartily, "It's a delicacy! I only make a small batch every few months because it takes so long to dry out but it's a pack of dra- I mean, mystery jerky!"
"Mystery jerky?" Harry raised a brow.
"Be grateful boy," Tom gently swatted the back of Harry's head.
"Say Harry, could you give Giselle and I a little moment to talk? Concerns a private matter o' mine. Why don't you take a seat at that bench and I'll call you over when we're done?" Tom directed Harry to a small bench near the stall, it sat under a short tree to provide shade from the morning sun.
Harry gave a curt nod to Tom and another round of 'thank-yous' to Giselle for the 'mystery jerky'. He heard Giselle call out to him to give it a try. He found himself seated on the bench as he placed the package on his thighs and began unwrapping it.
He was hit with a strong spicy whiff that made his nose tingle. He could smell the pepperiness coming from the dried meat, but he could also pick up the base savouriness and meatiness of it. It also smelled smoky. Very smoky. Picking up a thin streak of it, Harry noted that it was covered in some kind of spice rub, the kind he'd see on the pictures of Aunt Petunia's cookbooks that he had to learn recipes from. Specks of red, yellow and black covered the dark red bark-like meat. He was still wondering what kind of meat it was when his stomach began growling. He popped one into his mouth and began chewing. Or at least trying to. He hadn't realised that the occupants of the market near him had stopped their activities to watch what was about to happen.
'Texture of an old boot!'
Meanwhile, Tom had leaned into the counter to have a slightly more private conversation with Giselle as she chopped into the cured pork belly to get Tom his bacon.
"I think Harry might be magical, haven't heard of a muggle suddenly appearing on the streets of Diagon Alley before." Tom confessed.
"You think he may have accidentally apparated here?"
"Could be. I think he was raised in the muggle world though. He doesn't know a thing about Diagon Alley."
"And what if the boy isn't magical?"
"Oh come off it Giselle. How would a muggle show up like that? The people who would kidnap a muggle, wouldn't leave them lying on the streets alive."
"Let's assume little Harry is magical, what then Tom?"
"Well… Haven't thought ahead much to be honest."
"Leaky Cauldron's not a good place for a cute little thing like Harry. He could be my butchering apprentice!"
"Not with a build like that, the boy's too thin to do butchering."
"Bah, there's always magic for it. I just like the old fashioned way. Besides, Harry's hands are rather callused so I think he knows his way around physical work…" Giselle noted with a tinge of sadness.
"I've seen them too. He says his clothes are hand-me-downs from his cousin of the same age. The same age! He's too small… and did you see that scar on his forehead? Doesn't look like it came from a household accident! The boy's living with his relatives, his parents passed." Tom's voice slowly rose as he got more livid.
"Do you think they're abu-" Giselle's inquiry was cut off mid way by a tremendous sneeze.
"ACHOO!"
The market's patrons near Harry's bench began celebrating as the grass infront of Harry was lit on fire. Harry himself though was having a mild panic attack.
'I just sneezed fire! They're going to think I'm a freak!'
Harry saw Tom walking over with Giselle in tow. He looked away in shame.
"Congratulations Harry! You passed!" He heard Tom loudly proclaim.
Harry spin back bewildered, "Passed? What did I pass?"
This time Giselle spoke up with a grin, "The good Muggle-or-not test of course! Happy to say you're not one, at least not fully that's for sure."
That didn't help abate the confusion in the slightest. "Muggle? What's a Muggle?"
Tom laughed, "Its what we use to refer to non-magical folk."
"M-magical?"
"Aye, magical. You see, what you just ate was dragon jerky. For muggles they'll just taste some spicy meat, I'm told it resembles like alligator. But for magical folk, the dragon meat reacts with the magic within us an produces a slight allergic reaction and we sneeze fire a few times. Nothin' better to clear your sinuses!"
"Wait a minute… so you're all magical?" Harry asked as he looked around.
He saw gentle smiles, small nods, and toothy grins in reply. A confirmation of his question. He came to a stunning conclusion as to why all those 'freaky' incidents happened. He had magic.
"So… so we're all freaks?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.
"Freaks?! Not at all boy! Why would you think that?" Tom questioned.
"Well… when I accidentally did 'magic' around my relatives, they always got mad and called me a freak for doing it," Harry sadly admitted, rubbing his arm with one hand and looking anywhere but at another person.
Tom got riled up. So did everyone else actually. But collectively they stowed away that tidbit of information in light of the happy circumstance.
"Well no more thinking of yourself as a freak anymore ya hear? From this day forth-"
"You're a wizard Harry!" Giselle happily cut in with a celebratory shout.
A/N: Hello dear reader. I hope you've enjoyed the introductory chapter to Harry Potter and the Constellation of Prophecies. I'm entirely new to writing Harry Potter, and have only gotten into the fandom rather recently. I've enjoyed many of the great works on this site by so many wonderful authors. It is my pleasure to supply another story into the pipeline of fanfictions in the Harry Potter fandom.
Do drop any advice you may have for a budding HP fanfic writer such as myself, I'm always eager to learn. I look forward to enjoying the journey of writing this story together with you.
Till my next chapter, take care.