AN: Back with another one ya'll! Fun fact, this idea predates Of Witches and Snitches, i wrote about 30k of this almost 2 years ago and then took a short break from writing it to work on a little idea I had that ended up being Snitches. Gotta shout out the bbs, Palkey, Red, Wish and Proc, all of which helped on beta reading. Lastly, and mostly, Gamer0890 who went above and beyond simple beta reading. My loving discord husband crafted a full timeline and outline for this fic ages ago, and only mildly scolded me as I let it collect dust while chasing down Arcane fics and sadboi oneshots. This fic wouldn't exist without him, check out his and Palkey's works, both great authors fighting the good flowerpot fight. Now, without further ado, enjoy!
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The perpetual cloud cover that hung over London most of the year was absent as a lone figure picked through the rubble strewn streets. This area of the city was once stacked with towering business complexes, now the twisted skeletons of skyscrapers spanned the streets and tangled with each other in a mess of destruction. The irony of the bright sun shining over the devastation that was once muggle London was not lost on the cloaked man traversing the streets. High overhead a white blur dove and wove through the web of steel support beams, keeping vigil in the air. He jumped from the street into a sinkhole that exposed an abandoned underground station and landed on the dingey tiles in a crouch, grunting as the impact sent a lance of white hot pain up his leg from what was left of his knee. He ducked quickly behind an intact turnstile and watched the hole in the ceiling for several long minutes for followers.
It was deemed safe after five minutes it would seem, not long after the bird swooped in and landed deftly on his shoulder. Nothing else came and he stood and proceeded with a bit less tension in his gait. He hopped down onto the rails and set off east into the dark tunnel. The path ended just a few hundred paces down from the platform, an unusually abrupt dead-end of solid concrete and tile. The ambient light here was almost nonexistent but it did not seem to hinder him at all, he pulled out his wand and tapped seven seemingly random spots on the wall. At the last touch a small chip of stone fell away at eye level to reveal a tiny metal sliver, like the pointy end of a push pin.
He didn't even wince as he pressed his thumb into it, feeling the metal break through the skin. It pulled greedily at the swell of blood, taking it in, then the needle point receded into the wall and more rough concrete appeared over it as if it had never been. Without a sound the stone melted away and he was standing before a narrow doorway. He moved through and the wall reformed as soon as he passed.
Beyond a short narrow hall the tunnel opened up on a veritable city. The subway's original diameter had been magically enlarged and it was packed with ramshackle buildings constructed of odd bits of sheet metal and pallet wood. In true wizard fashion the rickety buildings weren't nearly as inhospitable as they looked on first inspection though.
"Welcome back, Harry!" voices called as he made his walk down the narrow street that ran the length of the tunnel, dividing its width in half. Hedwig took flight almost as soon as she could, joining the smattering of owls and the odd raven swooping overhead. She would, he knew, return to his place, announcing his return with her own. Harry nodded and shared smiles with the people greeting him as he made his way through what was a sort of market district for this little hidden village under the streets of London. He wanted nothing more than to go home, have a hot meal, and tend to his sore and aching muscles. He left for a reason though, and he had to deliver his bounty to the gardens and food vault before he could treat himself to any creature comforts.
"Hello Harry~" Luna greeted him with a toothy grin and drew his name out in a tuneless singsong way. It was so normal that he felt more of his high strung anxiety from being out in the open melt away at last, he grinned back.
"Morning Luna, Neville busy?"
"No, he's around here somewhere," she said vaguely, completely unhelpful but so very Luna. "Got anything good this time?" He opened the front of his cloak and reached into a magically enlarged inside pocket on the left side.
"I reckon so, yeah," he replied as he pulled out a large sack, once a pillowcase by the look of it, and plopped it on the counter in front of her. It rattled with the sound of several cans inside.
"How delightful," she said dreamily, digging through the loot. "Oh wow Harry, very nice!" she exclaimed as she appraised a can of yams.
"Yeah," he responded with a grin, "sweetcorn too, and asparagus. I've got something for Geetha also." She looked up as he spun a light brown wand between his fingers, a quill beside her scratched out an inventory of his find of its own accord. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, a very productive trip then." He didn't get a chance to answer as at that moment a door behind her and to the right of the desk banged open and Neville entered. His steps made a mismatched clunk, reminiscent of Mad Eye, courtesy of a carved wooden leg in place of his left.
"Made it back alive then Potter?" He limped over and caught Harry's wand arm in a firm grip and they shook.
"This time Longbottom," he replied and they stared each other down for a second before simultaneously their grim countenances split into grins.
"What you got for me then?" Neville asked as he led the way back out the door he'd entered through.
The office door opened on to a massive multi-level greenhouse. The ground floor contained neat rows of trees, an orchard with all manner of fruits and citrus. In the far corner was a copse of assorted non-edible trees, all wand wood. They were trying to set up a sustainable production of wands for future generations. They set off toward those trees, set into the back wall was a spiral staircase made of the same glass the entire structure seemed to be.
Harry reached into another internal pocket and retrieved a fistful of thin rectangular paper parcels. "Pumpkin, corn, carrot and watermelon," he said, passing them over to Neville who took the seeds excitedly. "And more of the potato, onion, and tomato."
"Ser-i-ous-ly good haul this time!" Neville exclaimed, drawing out the first word into four syllables. They arrived at the stair and started climbing, Neville in the lead to set a pace most comfortable for his condition. The staircase wound up into the bright light of the enchanted ceiling that kept the plants alive. Harry was momentarily blinded as he passed through the point where the ceiling became the floor until they were through and ascending onto the next level.
This room was equally divided down its length with shrubs and bushes on one side and leafy things on the other. The left contained everything from tomatoes to raspberries, on the right cabbages and carrots and the like. On the far end was the house Neville and Luna shared. It was as ramshackle as everything else here; made perhaps more so by the fact that Neville had allowed Luna to plant her horrible tasting radish-like "plums" and a few other raggedy looking plants in the meter or so of soil adjacent the the building. It sat directly over the office that they'd entered the gardens from below, but no staircase connected the two. Mainly, Neville said, because Luna preferred a walk through the greenery on her way down in the mornings.
"Where'd you get these?" Neville shook the seed packets as they entered the house. Like most buildings in their community, the outside was not at all representative of the inside. Rough, unpainted wood stripped from scraps and debris and nailed clumsily together made up the exterior walls. Inside there was wallpaper in an almost nauseating psychedelic pattern of purples and oranges that screamed Luna Lovegood, but also an ornate chandelier lighting the space and neat dark wood furniture.
"Some little muggle hardware shop down in Brighton," Harry explained, falling gratefully into an armchair with a sigh. The walls were decorated with a mixture of plans for the vegetable plots and photos of their old friends from the DA and Order of the Phoenix. Harry's eyes avoided the latter with practiced ease and he accepted the generous glass of firewhiskey Neville presented him before falling into a seat beside him.
It was something of a tradition between the two, whenever Harry returned from scavenging they'd share a glass and Neville would catch him up on what he'd missed around the village while he was away. Apparently rats had gotten through the wards somehow and into the marigold petals Neville stored for pepper-up potions. He gloured over the rim of his glass as he recounted this bit but Harry breathed easier knowing that was the worst of events over the week of his absence. Their conversation moved toward more casual topics like Nevile's plans for the new seeds and the training of the kids who would be getting a bit old for Geetha's basic maths and spelling lessons soon. They were on their second glass, and Harry was feeling considerably more relaxed, when the door opened and Luna drifted in.
"Hedwig's just popped by Harry," she said serenely, pausing only to pat Nevile's cheek before she moved off toward the kitchen. "She didn't have a letter, but she seemed rather cross." She called from the other room, Harry was already getting up. "She wouldn't even take a treat, just kept bobbing her head and then flapped off."
Harry called his goodbye, downed the rest of his drink, and nodded to Nevile; all while Luna waxed on about how pretty Hedwig's eyes were to no one in particular.
Nevile got up and followed him to the door. "Better be off then, be a shame to make it back safely only to be done-in in your own living room!" He had to yell the last bit as Harry was already making a brisk pace across the fields. "Tell her we said hi!" he shouted the last bit into cupped hands, fighting back a chuckle to get it out. Harry didn't turn back, just stuck his left arm up in a solitary wave over his shoulder.
Back on the street, Harry swore as he realized that he'd stayed far too long with Neville drinking and chatting. The sun, not the real one mind but an enchanted imitation, was starting to drop down to the far off door back out to the subway tunnel. The afternoon had well and truly ended, and he still had to deliver this wand to Geetha. He cringed as he slunk past the turn that would take him to his little cottage, half expecting curses to come flying after him. It wasn't far to the schoolhouse where their resident wand expert held court amongst the few young ones that made it through the war. Expert was, of course, a far cry from accurate, but like everything here they made due.
Geetha was a truly ancient Indian woman, it was often hard to tell ages with witches but Harry privately guessed she was at least as old as Dumbledore had been. With a mess of stark white hair and rich chocolate skin so wrinkled her eyes seemed lost in the folds, she was a sight to behold indeed. Her claim to wand mastery amounted to a few years as a wandmaker's apprentice decades ago, and while Olivander she was not, she could at least make a wand. Which was more than anyone else in the village could say for themselves. More practically she ran the orphanage here, for the few children whose parents hadn't made it through the war or had since passed, and all the other kids came round during the day to learn their numbers and the like.
"Harry Potter," she said, in her raspy voice. She greeted him with a smile, and his full name like all his elders seemed to. Coming from her it did have the novel effect of making him feel like a schoolboy again.
"Evening Geetha," he said, giving her a one armed hug. She fit easily under his armpit. He produced the long wooden stick he'd found on a body crushed by the collapsed hardware store he'd found the seeds in. He wanted to make quick work of this, any minute now Hedwig would undoubtedly turn up to try and bully him home, and Geetha had a habit of dragging on.
She hummed contemplatively, taking the wand and inspecting it closely. She felt the weight and scratched at the tip with her thumbnail toward the end, and if he wasn't mistaken, raised it to her nose and sniffed at it.
"Birch and unicorn hair," she said tremulously, tucking the wand up her sleeve. "Dense. Will you stay for dinner?" She was already turning to head deeper into the house.
"No Geetha. I really must be off," he spoke loudly, for she was rather deaf, and sure enough she was tottering down the hall carrying on as if he hadn't spoken.
"I'm making curry~" Her withered voice trailed off as she turned out of the hall into the kitchen. He dithering for a second in the entryway, torn between just walking out and being rude and digging his grave further by staying to say goodbye properly. The decision was made for him a moment later as, with an indignant screech, Hedwig landed on the window sill. She knew he could see her, so it was rather unnecessary when she rapped her beak against the glass three times in a hard staccato.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered, returning her glare. "Another time Geetha, I really have to go!" he yelled down the hall and turned back out onto the street. Hedwig flapped up to his shoulder at once, she gripped him with her talons rather harder than was had the feeling if he took one wrong step on the short walk home she would attempt to pull him along with the beat of her wings.
"Traitor," he nudged her with his head but she did not deign to respond and so with growing trepidation he turned down the narrow street toward the house at the end. It was, without doubt and beyond argument the nicest house in the whole tunnel community. This was largely due to enchantments, it was constructed of the same material as the rest, simply with plenty of powerful illusions layered over. No one else had the ability, or more importantly, the motivation to cast such complex magic simply to give the appearance of a small timber and stone cottage, complete with thatched roof and chimney.
He could hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen as he opened the door as silently as possible. Hedwig was having none of that, it seemed, as she took off as soon as they cleared the door. He swore she made as much noise with the flap of her wings as possible as she disappeared, all sounds ahead ceased.
"Ten years," he muttered to himself as he kicked off his boots by the door. "Ten years I owned the bloody bird and it took all of two for her to change loyalties completely." He walked slowly through the living room following his mutinous owl. He could hear a low voice murmuring ahead but only caught the tail end of whatever had been said.
"...qu'en penses-tu, Hedwig?" He took it as a good sign that she was conversing with Hedwig, even better when she didn't whirl round and throw something.
"I'm home," he said brightly, if a little hesitantly. "Ma princesse."
"Do not," she bit out in clipped tones, switching to English, "'my princess' me."
She hadn't turned to face him, but she was stroking the feathers atop Hedwig's head with the back of one of her thin fingers. He crossed the kitchen in a few strides, gaining heart at her continued nonviolence. When he reached her he stepped up to her back, wound his arms around her waist, and rested his hands against her stomach. They stood like that, a little too tense for a heartbeat, and he knew that both of them were wondering what she would do.
After a moment's deliberation she leaned back into his embrace and finally the last little knot of tension he'd carried around all week was undone. He rested his cheek against her smooth silver blonde hair and sighed contentedly.
"You are late," she said accusatorily.
"Oui, ma chérie, je suis désolé." He was grinning as he said it and it did not help with his 'orrible English accent' as she would put it.
"Do not try to butter me up with your poor attempt at French." He could hear the ghost of a smile being held back in her tone. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"'Edwig was 'ome so long ago," she admonished.
"Yes."
"Your dinner is cold."
"I'm sure it's still delicious." She elbowed him softly and he chuckled. He was playing a dangerous game, not giving her answers she wanted. A bit like facing off with the Hungarian Horntail during the Triwizard Tournament. Buzzing around the point, waiting for the flames. She wiggled around in his arms to face him, and the glare she sent up at him was not a tenth as mean as she was capable of.
"But you are 'ome now," she conceded, sliding her arms up to wrap around his neck with some difficulty; trapped as she was between him and the counter. "Your trip was safe then?"
"Completely uneventful," he assured her. "I did find a wand though."
Finally she kissed him. A gentle little kiss that she had to raise up on her toes to press to his lips. He tightened his grip on her, relishing the simple contact and the warm familiarity of home.
"I'm glad you are back," she said softly after they broke the kiss, her head resting against his chest with an ear over his heart.
"Not yet you're not," he said, positively beaming now, he stepped back from her and reached into his cloak as she looked on with furrowed brows. He felt for the squishy plastic bag in his pocket and pulled it out. Her eyes went wide and she gasped.
"Où-" She did not finish her question, evidently deeming it unimportant in the face of the bag of marshmallows he held in front of her. She snatched it from his hand and ripped into the bag, savoring one immediately. He laughed at the look of ecstasy on her face but she ignored him, eating another as she picked up her wand from the counter. With a small flick of her wrist she set the bowl of soup on the kitchen table to steaming again.
"Eat your dinner, before it gets cold for a second time." She tried for a harsh tone but fell far short of it as she proffered one of the little white pillows of sugar to Hedwig who hopped over to take it graciously. He just dropped a final kiss on her cheek before going and doing as he was told.
It was good to be home.
