Mundungus Fletcher was having a bit of a problem.
He had been assigned to watch over a certain Harry Potter, age five, from a remote and undetectable position in Privet Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey.
If he needed help, for any reason, he was to contact a number of Order of the Phoenix members (or, rather, Ex-Order of the Phoenix members as the Order had 'officially' disbanded after the end of the Wizarding War against you-know-who), and they would determine the next appropriate action.
Naturally, Mundungus had used the system to skip from 'remote babysitting duty' for multiple occasions, resulting a huge asterisk in the 'for any reason' part of his orders that stated ''a sweet gig, man' is not a valid reason, nor is any other form of skipping duty in order to perform shady activities.'
Unfortunately for Mundungus, he had some principles left so he had agreed to go by the new orders due to his personal honor (and due to certain cases where he had come to conflict with the wizarding law that might have had resulted in a prolonged Azkaban stay for Mundungus, if not for certain Albus Dumbledore's interference with the proceedings, the results of which could still be revoked if the case ever re-entered court for one reason or another.)
Unfortunately, old lady Fig who had been supposed to be a backup-backup to watch over Harry (from a safe distance away) had fallen ill, as she had no access to most forms of magical ointments for illnesses due to her being a squib, and even if she had, chances are that they wouldn't work for her as they should due to her squib nature.
At the same time the Dursley couple who were the 'official' caretakers for Potter had decided to leave the building for a vacation, and had taken their pork-transformed son with them (as Mundungus was fairly sure no child was capable of growing to such a fat state of physical and mental being without magical assistance).
In the end, Harry Potter had been left alone in the house.
Locked in a cupboard with a piece of overdue cheese for sustenance.
Problem was that the cheese had run out ten days ago.
Mundungus had contemplated multiple times if he should contact the Order to ask for assistance as he had very clear orders to not interfere unless Harry came under attack by Dark Wizards, ran across a wizard, or otherwise came into contact with the magical world. At the same time he was supposed to not let Harry Potter die or suffer permanent damage that could not be healed magically, and that included letting him skip meals if needed.
Dumbledore had been determined on that last part, almost as if he had gotten reports that the Dursley pork-boy and Harry were a single person, or worse, if their physical states had been switched on the report.
Mundungus had not tried to correct the wizard, considering that there was no way that someone as intelligent as Dumbledore would get the two mixed up in reports- Or he had an ulterior plan.
Or maybe he trusted that his Order would check the validity of their reports before giving them to Dumbledore, or something like that.
In retrospect Mundungus was fairly sure that it was the latter case.
Then again, the old wizard might just be mad, in which case Mundungus specifically didn't want to risk correcting him.
When a powerful, mad and ancient wizard with access to powers both terrible and wonderful was making a obvious mistake, one did not walk up to him and point it out, one evacuated the premises immediately and made their way as far away from the blast zone as possible through means physical or magical.
…And that had more or less left Mundungus to a state where he was forced to sneak into Privet Drive 4, and break through the window of the Dursley household in order to check and ensure that Harry didn't actually starve to death.
"So uh." Mundungus spoke through the door of the cupboard under the stairs, trying to mimic Dursley senior's voice as best as he could- Which was not much. "Yu's delirious yet, Har- boy?"
"It's the Death… Come to Take me…" A faint, delirious voice answered.
'...Yep, he won't remember a thing about this 'meeting'. And he's alive.' Mundungus nodded to himself and sighed in relief as he was fairly sure that if Harry died on his watch, Mundungus would get turned into a thin paste and eaten on a sandwich before being defecated down a public toilet, possibly literally if Albus's frumpy second-in-command got involved.
"Oi, you's needing food?"
"I… Do not know. What is food? Can I eat my fingers?" A voice that was a bit too serious answered, making Mundungus sweat quite a bit, adding a rancid sweat-smell to his already questionable repertoire of olfactory delights.
"I's getting you's food or sumthink. Just… Don'ts eat ye fingies."
"My toes taste funny…"
'Yea, I may have waited a bit too long.'
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Unfortunately, the Dursleys had emptied the larder of the house before leaving, meaning that Mundungus's quick search had been for vain. Moreover, the neighbors might notice the broken window soon and ask for police to investigate, meaning that Mundungus was a bit on borrowed time.
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Unfortunately, Mundungus had been utterly unaware of the Muggle invention of 'fridges' and 'freezers', and had searched for food in the 'larder', or rather, in the garage.
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'Ech, I can't really 'Accio food' or anything like that, since the Ministry of Magic would hundred percent get on my ass for casting- or Harry's ass- if I did magic here…' Mundungus started to despair and glanced around, wondering if five-year olds could eat old newspapers for sustenance.
In the end Mundungus had to resort to drastic measures- In other words…
He had to use his personal stock of snacks.
"Oi, boy. You's still alive? Har-boy?" Mundungus knocked on the door of the cupboard once again.
"The missile knows where it is. It knows this because it knows where it isn't, subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is, whichever is greater, it obtains a difference, or deviation…"
'He's about to be done for.' Mundungus sweated even harder, causing a gagging sound to come from the cupboard as the smell must have penetrated the gaps of the locked door.
"Oi, don't scream now. I's just… Ye guardian angel or sumthink like that." Mundungus opened the locked door- Even if he couldn't use magic in that specific location, very few wizards appreciated the art of manual lockpicking. And fortunately for Harry and Mundungus both, the ragged wizard-hobo was not above some manual lockpick-work in his line of profession if it meant skirting some annoying wards.
"I welcome thee, Death. Enter my home and snuff the hearth, for my time has come. I can feel it in my bones, I can feel it in my skin… The crawling feeling of sickness and disease…" The skin-and-bones child spoke.
Mundungus paused as the boy looked and behaved roughly like someone who had been locked in Azkaban for a few weeks.
"Oi, I ain't that bad lookin."
"I apologize, o Deep One, a sign of the End of Times…"
Mundungus was hundred percent sure that the boy was hallucinating, and sat down before taking a pipe from the folds of his rags. And a couple of… 'fuzzy, edible items'.
Or at least, they had been marked as 'edibles' in the home of a random muggle that Mundungus had raided for 'unnecessary stuff that could better be possessed by him for resale purposes'.
Mundungus wasn't exactly sure what the brownies were made of, but they had smelled fairly tasty and had not grown all that much hair-like mold in the general scale of things during the six or seven weeks they had spent in Mundungus's armpit-pocket. And a bit of chest hair grew adversity, or so the muggle saying went as far as Mundungus remembered it.
"Glump." A sound came from the five-year old boy's throat as he swallowed the questionable brownie in one go. And then another. And then five more.
Mundungus rummaged around his pockets and found a cookie and some sugar, and sprinkled the sugar on the cookie before handing it to the boy, alongside some mushrooms that he found from the same place where he had found the 'edibles'.
"Glomp. Gup. Slurp."
Mundugus was starting to worry that the boy was getting dehydrated and handed a bottle to Harry- He had marked all bottles that contained poison, so he was fairly sure that the unmarked bottle was safe to drink from.
Moreover, a bit of eighty-percent vodka did wonders to snap one's head straight, and Harry wasn't looking too good.
"Gulp. Gulp. Gulp." The boy drank the whole bottle before Mundungus could find a shot glass.
"Want a smoke after dat?" Mundungus was a bit impressed with the boy's drinking ability and offered his long tobacco pipe to Harry.
The boy took the pipe and ate the tobacco from the cup.
He let out a small sigh and burped.
Mundungus was starting to suspect that something was wrong and narrowed his eyes.
Harry was wobbling a bit and looked like he was blinking in and out of consciousness.
"I feel funny." Harry stated confidently and with a clear look in his eyes.
Then his eyes rolled back on his head while he was sitting straight and still.
And suddenly, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.
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Seven days later, Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's Office.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was standing in front of a mirror.
"Minerva, dear, can I ask for an opinion?" the old wizard asked without looking away from the mirror.
"If you refer to the can of dogfood that I donated to the dog shelter-"
"Yes, that too- Please transfigure Mundungus back into a human shape once he has, um, enough time to coascele in the… reduce." Dumbledore sighed. "But I wanted to ask… Would a gray robe and five-feet long, gnarled staff suit me?"
"...I suspect that is not the first worry that we should have at the moment." Minerva McGonagall sighed, although while Dumbledore's sigh had been highly stressed, Minerva's was resigned. "I checked the magical traces of every single item, every single crumb of food in that cupboard. Cupboard! Harry had been living- No, he had been starved in a cupboard!"
"I did mention to Mundungus and Fig that it would be alright if Harry lost some weight- I heard that he had put on some calories and while it would be alright if he was jolly and happy, it really isn't good to overindulge like that." Dumbledore nodded gravely.
"THAT WAS NOT THE POINT!" Minerva's shriek caused a number of the paintings in the Headmaster's Office to make hushing motions. "Albus! That boy- He must have been so afraid, so alone- It was not a temporary punishment! The things I saw there- He was miserable!"
"I see… In other words, Harry has taken his first steps into being a Hero of Light." Dumbledore reached to pat the corner of his eyes with a handkerchief, wiping away the very real tears in his eyes. "I wished that I would have been allowed to see him grow into a Hero, but I am happy to know that he has chosen the right path."
"You- The- Grhh…" Minerva seemed to suffer a small stroke and paused with not insignificant amount of effort. "Fine. Fine. I'm done for now. But we will return to this subject!"
"Of course, Minerva."
"But the traces of magic- Nothing contained anything like a Portkey from the magical traces that I managed to check, and Flitwick agreed after he did his analysis." McGongall continued after getting her temper in check. "I managed to Confound the Owl that the Ministery sent to the residence regarding 'underage use of magic', so the Ministery likely only knows that Harry Potter performed magic, and that was that."
"Was there anything else you found before I entered the scene, fashionably late?" Dumbledore prodded. "Perhaps a message of some sort? Bloody handwriting on the walls? A stage of a heroic last stand against overwhelming odds?"
"Unless you count the smell that Mundungus leaves in any place that he visits, then no. However… I found a number of food crumbs and delivered them to Professor Sprout and Professor Burbage. Sprout detected a number of suspicious elements in the food, and Burbage helped identify them as Muggle narcotics, including LSD, marihuana, alcohol, tobacco and what Muggles term 'magic mushrooms' in the crumbs of food." Minerva spoke darkly. "Considering that Mundungus was lucid when we interrogated him, and since he chose to so elegantly avoid mentioning anything other than that he had given Harry something to eat, I suspect that Harry has overdosed on multiple sorts of narcotics and is likely in great danger."
"Indeed, Harry has embarked in the Great Journey of Life, as I like to call it, or a 'huge trip', as I've heard the affectionados of such substances call it." Dumbledore nodded peacefully. "If that is that, then we have little to worry- Outside the Dark Wizards, the myriad of hostile dangerous creatures, and trucks at intersections where you can't see what's coming from left or right. All of which pose a deadly threat to budding heroes."
Minerva let out a groan and continued. "Moody has not found anything. No-one in the Order has any idea where Harry has gone. I tried to send an owl, and it just looked at me as if I had gone mad. An owl thought me mad when I asked it to deliver a message to Harry Potter!"
"Indeed, and in madness we must walk if we are to ever find the Hobbits." Dumbledore made a mysterious motion, causing McGongall to jump a bit. "Sorry. A bit of theateristic rehearsal- I planned to play the role of Gandalf in the upcoming Muggle movie- It enters pre-production in a couple of years. I had even consulted mr. Tolkien about the role in case there was a theater play made from his books, back when he was still alive, and he said that…"
"Albus! This- Do you not care what has happened to Harry?!"
"I do. I do, Minerva. But we both know- the Dark Lord is not dead. Gone, but not dead. Not quite." Dumbledore calmed his swirling motions, even though he was about to get to the part where he'd raise his wand and state "You shall not move past this specific chokehold that I control!" and then break a bridge.
"How does this make Harry's disappearance any better?!" Minerva looked like her hair was shedding even by the second from stress.
"You know what was said of Harry. The… Foretelling." Dumbledore very pointedly avoided speaking of the Prophecy with that name- Names held great power, and sometimes one needed to merely state something and suddenly the plants grew eyes and the walls grew ears.
Indeed, the effect this time was that Minerva froze still. "You… That is why you believe that Harry is in no danger?"
"Oh, he most definitely is in great danger."
"That does not help!"
"However, it is stipulated in part three of the Hero's Journey that he is to face hardship, and to lose a mentor figure. I am sad that Harry had to lose Petunia and Vernon this early, but I am certain that Harry is strong enough in spirit that he'll return to us. Eventually. Until then, we must keep searching, and keep believing." Dumbledore let his expression harden slightly, specifically at the first part, and it made McGongall's face alternate between resignation and determination.
"Moody will not stop until he has turned every stone and searched every shadow for Harry." Minerva stated her ultimatum. "And neither will I. And neither will you- A prophecy is one thing, but just discarding a five-year old child to some unknown place is another! I objected strongly enough when we did just that to Harry after You-Know-Who was slain and we left him to Petunia and her husband- We will search and…"
"...We will not be able to find Harry." Dumbledore stated gravely and gave McGongall a meaningful glance over his half-crescent glasses. "Not unless he wishes to be found."
"YOU GAVE HIM JAMES'S INVISIBILITY CLOAK?! A FIVE-YEAR OLD BOY?!"
Dumbledore had covered his ears with his pinky fingers as he was fairly sure his earwax would get a headache if they were subjected to McGongall's banshee-like shriek. "Unfortunately, I did not as his disappearance is not something I could have predicted- But rest assured, had I known, I would have most certainly supplied him with that item."
Minerva was splayed on the lazy-boy style cushy chair that was in front of the Headmaster's desk, and was holding her chest as if she was about to suffer a very real heart attack.
"Please get some rest, Minerva-chan."
"Not that… You went to Japan for a meeting, I can't… Please don't do this… Not now…" Minerva looked like she was done for and Dumbledore nodded seriously.
"Might I suggest some sleep? While I truly value your dedication and care, it's unwise to linger for days with just potions and spells." Dumbledore spoke with a deep, caring voice that caused Minerva to twitch up almost as if she was a marionette on strings- Which she mostly was at that point, considering that the woman had managed to camouflage her tiredness under urgency, but that had not been able to fool Dumbledore's sight. "While I am sure that Harry is, or would be, deeply touched to know that he is cared for with such love, I do not believe that he wishes you to collapse in the process of searching for him."
"Will you search for him, then?" Minerva let out a tired sigh and wobbled over to a couch that sprung into the small bedroom in the Headmaster's office, which was a room which had not been there a few seconds ago. "Albus…"
"Minerva. You wound me. There is not a moment I haven't searched for Harry ever since the second I was aware that he disappeared- Yes, even before Mundungus's report." Dumbledore pointed at a whirring clockwork device which was showing two red flags, and six more were lowered down as if they were preparing to be raised. "Rest assured that Harry's wellbeing is important to me- As it has been, as it will be! And not only because of the certain set of words that were spoken in a certain hut, at a certain time, with certain people present!"
"Mhn." McGongall, however, had dozed off the moment Dumbledore had pointed at the whirring device and her eyes had looked at it.
'Oh. Oops. That one causes sweet dreams if you're feeling tired and want to rest.' Dumbledore pointed his finger at another device which showed a large red exclamation mark above a baroque tin soldier.
Dumbledore turned around and let his expression fall from nearly insane joviality to that of great and grievous worry and despair- An expression that he had fought hard to not let slip and show on his face during the earlier conversation, for if Minerva had seen it, she would have not slept until she either died of exhaustion or the son of Lily and James Potter was safe and sound.
'...Harry, what exactly happened there that no magical way can find you, a Time Turner refuses to work near Privet Drive during the moment of your disappearance, afraid of the shadow of Paradox…' Dumbledore stroked the exposed glass of a Time Turner while thinking hard.
Dumbledore had arrived to a premade Apparition-In spot at Privet Drive 12, Surrey, one hour, fifty-nine minutes and forty-one seconds before the alarm went off which had indicated that Harry Potter's magic had flared, and one hour, fifty-nine minutes and thirty-nine seconds before a second alarm had gone off to indicate that Harry Potter was no longer a resident of his Aunt's home.
However, when Dumbledore tried to rush to past Privet Drive 4 in order to see what had happened during Mundungus's 'rescue attempt'… He found himself unable to advance in the past, and had almost gotten stuck in it.
In other words, a time-related Paradox had happened at Privet Drive 4, which had somehow affected Harry in a way that had resulted in him being removed from the location and from the residency- Something that was both extremely worrying, and equally intriguing to the part of Dumbledore's brain that loved mystery novels.
Specifically when Privet Drive 4 had been very specifically warded against time-turning, except for one specific time-turner that Dumbledore had allowed to work within the ward, namely his.
However, he had used all of the allotted hours within the time-turner at once in order to ensure that it couldn't be stolen from him in the past and be used to perform the kidnapping in the future's past, which meant that either the wards had malfunctioned, which he checked and found working, or some other mean of manipulating reality, or indeed, Time, had taken hold of Privet Drive 4.
'...If it was the Other…' Dumbledore paused his line of thinking, and then kept pacing in the Headmaster's office, his worry now redoubled.
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After all, Dumbledore knew that very few mages of Britain knew about the other Traditions of Magic, much less cared to know more- And by design.
And it was good, as Dumbledore knew that as long as witches and wizards believed in magic that the Ministery of Magic approved, they would not tempt the Paradox.
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Six years later, Dumbledore felt grave worry, for Harry had not been found, and the Philosopher's Stone had been stolen.
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Seven years later Dumbledore despaired, for the School of Hogwarts would have been closed, if not for the heroic sacrifice of Gilderoy Lockheart, who bravely carried a rooster which had been transfigured into a pebble towards the Defense Against Dark Arts class in preparation for a combat lesson against the vicious beast, with appropriately dramatic reveal when the pebble turned out to be a feathered beast with large claws.
However, the 'class preparation' had, in reality, been a masterful ploy by the professor against a certain Basilisk which had ambushed and gazed upon the professor- And in turn, the Basilisk had triggered the professor's trap!
When Gilderoy Lockheart had died, the transformation had come undone and the Rooster had let out a terrified shrill scream, which had slain the basilisk outright.
Yet, even if another Hero had saved the day, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.
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Eight years later Dumbledore was forced to use the Rooster-Who-Had-Lived as the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, as he was unwilling to ask Remus Lupin for the role when he was aware of the Curse that had been placed on the teacher's position.
…Even though putting the Friend of the Hero's Father in danger could potentially summon the Hero, Dumbledore was not yet desperate enough to do that.
Just yet.
But he was getting there, slowly if surely.
True to the Curse, the Rooster-Who-Slew-The-Basilisk wandered too close to the metaphorical sun near the end of the year, and unfortunately was turned to breakfast when it had been visiting the hens that Hagrid kept in his yard.
It had taken a considerable amount of brandy and reassuring words from Dumbledore to help Hagrid get over the fact that he had killed and eaten a Hogwarts Professor.
And Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.
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Nine years later, the Tri-Wizard Tourney started, and the Goblet of Fire spat out a single name after three others, with each of the three earlier ones being representatives of their respective Schools of Magic of Hermetic Order- Little knowing that they were all of single School of Magic pretending to be a trio.
Yet, the Fourth One…
Dumbledore could not stop tears from flowing from his eyes like thick rivers alongside snot from his nose as he read the name that the goblet had spat out on a piece of violet paper- The very last method of finding Him had worked, against all odds, and after every other way of finding Him had failed.
"The Fourth contestant of Tri-Wizard Tourney is Harry Potter of Sahaj- Ahem! My apologies, something caught in my throat!" Dumbledore almost spoke the name of the 'School' as it was written since he had lost control over his emotions for a moment.
"The Fourth Contestant of Tri-Wizard Tourney is Harry Potter of the Cult of Ecstasy!"
To say that the silence in the Hogwart's dining hall was 'absolute', was like calling it the greatest storm known to man a 'mild breeze'.
The students of School of Dumstrang looked at Dumbledore with a flat, unflinching expression.
The students of School of Beauxbatons stared at Dumbledore with polite, if unconvincing, smiles on their faces as if expecting the jester to lift his hands up and say 'just kidding'.
The students of School of Hogwarts looked at Dumbledore crying genuine rivers of tears while holding a violet strip of paper that was a bit burnt from one edge, and decided that none of them wanted anything to do with what was going on.
AN: For a quick recap on how Mage: The Ascension works, feel free to glance at a Youtube video by Burgerkrieg titled "Woke "Mages" DENY Reality! (Mage: The Ascension Player Lore)". As you might have guessed, in this story the wizards of J.K Rowling universe are effectively Hermetic Order who are keeping things low-key to not incur Paradox by creating their own little Consensus.
Honestly, I'd have told that J.K Rowling was ripping off on Mage: The Ascension if not for the fact that Lupin in his Werewolf form would have 101% tracked and clapped Peter during full moon when latter made his escape in 'Prisoner of Azkaban', and would have proceeded to tear the Dementors a new existential asshole (who I pretty much equate to Wraiths who have been overtaken by their Shadow, and escaped Stygia somehow to wander about in the Skinlands in a metaphysical state, feeding on emotions to sustain themselves in order not slip back to Umbra and fall to Stygia- Or to Oblivion altogether)
Harry's stat spread: imgur dot com slash aB7zaxf
It's a trash spread with some adjustments in build rules for the crossover, don't try to use it for actual game of MTA.
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