Chapter 1
Grumbling at the cold ground below him and the noises of a busy city reaching his ears, he shifted in his sleep before jolting himself awake. Where was he? Blinking his eyes awake he saw in front of him a grungy alleyway, an old dumpster with a crumbling brick wall to his left and to his right pure white.
Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to see better made him realize he didn’t have his glasses on, startled into an instinctive pat down to find them, he realized with astonishment that he was seeing clearly. Better, in fact, then he had ever had with his glasses, he put aside that revelation for later. Looking down he saw that he was wearing a pair of nicely pressed slacks, dress shirt, suit jacket, and even a tie.
Pushing himself off the dirty pavement, he tried to remember the last thing he could remember. Nothing. Just falling asleep after a long, aching day of labor for the Dursleys.
Ignoring his memory issues for now, he decided he would deal with the more pressing concern, him waking up in an unknown location with Voldemort on the loose.
He crept towards the light, getting a better look, he saw that he must’ve been in a large city, bustling with people, and even more passing cars, approaching a man he asked, “Sorry sir, you wouldn’t happen to know where we are?”
The man gave him a strange look before answering, “San Francisco. Kid, are you okay?”
Hearing his American accent and hoping to God he was wrong, he asked, “Is that in America, sir?”
Seeing his incredulous look was answer enough, he started walking down the street away from the man saying, “Thank you sir!”
He barely heard the worried “Kid?” through his whirling thoughts. He’s in America. How’d he end up in bloody America! After running long enough that the man couldn’t have followed him out of some virtuous need to make sure he was okay, he slowed down and took stock of his options, sun beating down on him relentlessly.
He was in some random American town (or was it a city?), and he didn’t have a bloody clue how the hell he got here. Checking his pockets produced almost nothing, except strangely, a single pack of crisps. Looking around, he spotted an abandoned paper next to an old and rusty bench. Bending down a snatching it, he froze.
August 3rd.
It had been July 26th last he remembered.
Letting out a hysterical laugh he sat down. Head in his hands he laughed. Laughed until he started crying, only jolted out of his breakdown when a voice sounded.
“Stop.”
Whipping his head around to see who spoke, he saw no one. Fully knowing talking to yourself was the first sign of insanity, he hesitantly asked, “Hello?”
“Harry James Potter.”
“Yes? Who are you?” With one last look around at the empty residential street, he decided that yes, he was talking to a voice in head. How could this day get anymore strange.
“I Am Michael, Archangel Of The Lord.”
After a pause entirely out of surprise, he asked, “Like God, the ‘imma strike down some heathens God?’”
After a pause that matched his own, ‘Michael’ responded, “Yes.”
Harry decided this voice, or maybe himself if this was just his mind playing tricks on him, was bullshitting.
“Yeah, sure mate, and I’m Merli-” He paused when a realization came to him, “Did you take me to America?”
“I was attempting to locate one of my brothers.”
With that cryptic dialogue, Harry stood up, “I can’t believe this! And you took me with you why?”
“It seems you are what became of me when I fell.”
“Like from heaven?” Came the incredulous response that fell out of his mouth.
“Yes.”
Harry could tell he was starting to annoy the voice, this 'Michael', with his questions but considering the past half hour or so, Harry decided he would need to suck it up and deal with it.
“Your telling me I’m what? Some Angel sent from heaven?”
“Archangel, and no. You are but the mud-monkey remnants of my attempt to call my Father’s attention.”
Harry didn’t know what the hell a ‘mud-monkey’ was, but he knew it wasn’t nice.
“Oh, go blow yourself!”
Harry decided to say screw this shit. He was gonna beg the nearest person for some spare change, whatever the bloody hell Americans used, and he was gonna call Hermione. She would know what to do. He began his walk.
“You cannot tell your associate about me.”
If anything, that made Harry want to call her more, just to spite this ‘Michael’.
He paused in his stride then continued, asking, “Can you hear my thoughts?”
Michael ignored him and continued his line of thought, this time his voice sounded harder.
“You cannot tell her about me.”
“Oh why, pray tell, can I not?”
Harry could have sworn he heard a grumble before Michael answered him.
“Because I am currently… attached to you.”
That brought a laugh from him, “So the all-powerful ‘Archangel of the Lord’ is stuck?”
“Only Father Is All-Powerful.” Was the only response.
“That’s another thing! Did dear old daddy leave you? I thought God was a caring or something.”
Harry could feal the burning anger radiating from his head, almost making him regret antagonizing him before he realized he probably couldn’t do anything.
“Are you the reason I can’t remember the last week?”
“Up Until Recently, I Had Been In Control Of The Vessel. You Wouldn’t Have Been Able To Perceive Anything As I Am The Superior Piece Of… Our Existence”
He had spit out ‘Our’ like the fact that Harry was supposedly a part of him distasted him.
“So, you had what, a week to find your ‘brothers’ and you couldn’t? That’s convenient.”
“I Am Currently In A… Diminished State. Usually I Could Just Fly Back To Heaven, Or Even Taking Into Account My Current… State… As I Cannot Bring A Vessel Into Heaven, Even If I’m Trapped In It, Send Out A Pulse Of Grace To Gain My Brothers’ Attention. I Have Been Forced To Rely On Your Mediocre Attempt At Replicating Grace.”
“You mean my magic?”
“Yes. Your… Magic Was A Side Project Father Had Indulged In While Designing You Humans.”
Harry ignored that answer in favor of the more important question, “You used my magic to get to America?”
“No I Did Not Teleport. I Simply Got On A ‘Plane.’”
“You got a plane ticket?” Harry’s suspicious voice asked.
“Plane Ticket?”
“Y’know, piece of paper letting you get on a plane? Don’t tell me you just got on?”
Michael sounded confused, “Why Would I Need A Piece Of Paper To Board A Plane?”
Harry set that aside for more important things, “What have you been doing then? Not terrorizing the muggles, I hope?” Harry was a little scared what this obviously insane voice in his head had been doing with his face.
“I Visited A Man Named Samuel William Winchester Having Assumed That He Would Have A Few Of My Brothers Watching Over Him.”
“I’m assuming you had no luck?”
“Indeed”
Checking for cars at a crosswalk, he quickly ran across, darting inside of the first convenience store he had seen. Time to turn on the helpless kid act.
It was a dingy little place, though its dark, air-conditioned interior allowed Harry a brief respite from the hellish heat outside. Turning to the women manning the counter, and putting on his best ‘worried kid’ performance, thankful that he still looked young enough that it would work, and asked, “hello miss? Could I please have some change for a phone booth? You see, my dad was supposed to pick me up, but he never showed and I’m getting worried.”
The women took one look at him, and her face turned gentle, score!
“Yes, dear, of course.”
After she fished out a few quarters and passed them to him, Harry was quick to thank her profusely and leave. Just because he was scamming her a bit, didn’t make him have to be an asshole about it.
“Remember, Do Not Tell Her About Me.”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
Michael seemed to consider for a moment before answering.
“She Would Be Worried, Wouldn’t She? A Voice Talking In His Head! ‘Is He Losing It?’ She’ll Think.” Then Harry could almost physically feel Michael riffle through his head before adding, “You Know She Thought You Were Losing It In Second Year. ‘He’s Hearing Things Say ‘Rip, Tear, Kill’!’ She Thought. What Would She Think When You Tell Her Your Having Conversations With The Voices Now?”
Harry knew Michael was, rather unsubtly (really, he needed practice), manipulating him. That Hermione didn’t actually think he was crazy, and Michael was just using his fears from when he was a twelve-year-old against him. But on the other hand, he did have a point, didn’t he? He would tell her, and Ron eventually, just- at a better time and place. When they were together at Hogwarts maybe, when he could properly explain what was happening.
“So you admit you aren’t an ‘Angel of the Lord’?” Harry accused, mainly because he knew Michael had won.
Michael knew it too, seeing as he didn’t get an answer.
It took seven rings to get an answer and Harry was getting concerned there wouldn’t be one, until he heard a raspy “Hello?” He identified as Mr. Granger.
Harry winced when he remembered the time difference.
“Hello? Mister Granger? It’s Harry, Harry Potter?”
“Oh, hello Harry, I’ll go wake up Hermione, just remember some of us aren’t night owls, ok?” His voice ended in a half joking tone, and Harry let out a breath that he hadn’t gotten Hermione in trouble.
“Hello! Harry! Where are you? Are you ok?”
“Hermione? I’m ok! Calm down, what’s happening?”
“Calm down?! Harry, you’ve been missing for a week!”
Harry could have hit himself then. He didn’t think the Dursleys wouldn’t care enough to tell anyone he was missing, but he guessed he was wrong.
“I’m fine, Hermione, promise!”
Once he got her calmed down enough, she began interrogating him, “Where have you been Harry! We were worried sick! Mrs. Weasley has been so worried she’s been sending daily letters to me asking if I’ve seen you.”
Harry paused, thinking about how he wanted to play this, then decided to stick as close to the truth without revealing too much, “I just woke up today. My last memory was last Saturday, I’m in San Francisco, somewhere in America. I was hoping you knew where that was, so I could find a way back to Brittain?”
He had tried to speak in gentle tone to avoid scaring the already worried Hermione, but based on her voice when she responded, he failed, “You’re in San Francisco?! Harry that’s on the west coast! I-” She paused for a second then continued, “I have a book on the notable wizard settlements of the world, I think I remember reading something on San Francisco. I’ll go grab it, don’t do anything.”
Harry stopped himself from asking what he could even do, stranded as he was, and waited the few moments she was gone.
“Yes! It’s… in Alamo square park, there should be a path that circles around a clump of bushes, all you need to do is jump inside them.”
Harry was about to thank her and say goodbye when she added.
“I’ll tell take the Knight Bus to Ron’s and get Mrs. Weasley to tell Dumbledore, I bet he will have someone to pick you up when you get there.”
Harry realized he hadn’t thought that far enough ahead. “Thank you, Hermione. See you soon?”
Hermione said her goodbyes and Harry stood for a moment.
Now to figure out how to get to Alamo square.
-----
It had taken him two hours of walking in the blisteringly hot sun to reach the stupid park, who knew a set of grids could be so bloody confusing to navigate.
Thankfully Michael kept his talking to a minimum, only remarking once in a while about ‘you humans and your convoluted ways.’
Harry was pretty sure that was an insult, but he couldn’t be bothered to be offended for his species against a voice in his head.
Finally reaching the stupid bush, he barely had the energy to hop into it, not expecting to fall an additional ten or so feet, though when he landed it had only felt like one, into what looked like an underground Diagon Alley.
He took his time looking around and marveling about the completely dirt roof only about three meters above them and the tight and busy brick paths cutting between buildings and stalls that looked haphazardly installed, it was less like a city district like Diagon Alley had been, what with residential floors above every building and even some that were exclusively apartments, and more like a market square. The smell of fresh produce and meats and the sounds of men and women yelling about the quality of their goods, enticing people do ‘just try it, you’ll love it!’
Harry just about fell in love with it.
His gawking was interrupted by a voice to his right.
“There you are!”
Looking showed him Remus (‘Just call me Remus, Harry’) Lupin and a young women, blond with short hair and vibrant pink eyes.
He tensed and then relaxed, letting a small smile slip out as he felt Remus’s arms envelope him, “Harry! Thank Merlin, we found you.”
Harry was of the opinion that if someone told you where they were, you weren’t really finding them. Of course he didn’t say that.
“Dumbledore sent you?”
The witch accompanying Remus jumped in.
“He sure did! I almost couldn’t believe it when he told us you ended up in America of all places. You know I spent a summer here for the auror exchange program, the people you find here are weird- a good-weird!” She added when she noticed a dirty look from a passing witch.
Remus released him and Harry cautiously asked, “Um- what’s your name?”
“Remus seemed to remember where they were and answered for her, “This is Auror Tonks, Dumbledore thought you might need an escort until we brought you to-” He seemed to be unable to speak the next few words, he amended, “where you’ll be staying until Hogwarts.”
“I won’t be at the Dursleys’?”
Tonks jumped in again, hair turning a startlingly bright red, “Nope! You’ll be rooming with s- padfoot until September 1st.”
Harry didn’t have a chance to thank his good luck for that before Remus got to the heart of matters.
“First read this,” He said, showing Harry a piece of paper, Harry read, ‘The base for the Order of the Phoenix is at 12th, Grimmauld Place’ before tucking it quickly back away and pulling out a spoon, “This is a Portkey to where you’ll be staying, we will of course have to question you about where you’ve been.”
There was a stern look in Remus’ eyes and Harry didn’t argue with him. Ignoring the unease that instinctively rose when he heard the word portkey, He didn’t completely trust the things after what happened during the third task, he grabbed onto a part of it that Remus was gesturing to, and after Tonks also grabbed onto it Remus whispered, “away.”
And they were spinning.