Poor Thing
The sun was bright that day, unusual for London, so very out of place. The curtains were making shadows on the floor, looking almost like the shadows of water. Harry sighed and laid back on the floor, watching the red seep into the crevices of the wooden boards. He should have been panicking, it would be the normal reaction but he couldn't bring himself to express anything at all. He was too tired.
Time passed by slowly, distantly he could hear the outside world but he felt like his existence had no part in it. He was a separate being. Hours could have passed with him on the floor, if not for the loud bell echoing in the room.
“You better hurry, that child's gonna eat me out of my shop-...” He trailed off as he saw the body on the floor. “Oh…”
6 hours earlier.
Harry planned to take advantage of the exceptionally bright day. After a month in London, things had gotten much better. He had already ordered the bulk of the needed products and had most of the stuff for a simple shave. He was almost completely set.
Presumably, there were others who shared the same thought. The shopping square was bustling with people, the most colorful morning. Riddle trailed behind, wanting to come along solely for entertainment value.
He passed shop after shop, enraptured with all the new things people seemed to put out nowadays. Isolation had done a number on him, making him more anxious, less likely to explore. It was a surprise to be outside and realize that his anxiety was practically nonexistent. He breathed a sigh of relief, dropping public courtesy for the chance to stretch his arms over his head, a smile large on his face. Almost elbowing a man in the face who was passing by, but he didn’t care. But the relief died quickly when he saw a familiar man up ahead.
Cormac McLaggen stood atop a soap box, and as usual, was proclaiming absolute nonsense. The only difference between now and then was that he was prompting something rather than himself. The last he had seen of him was when he was a police cadet, escorting Harry away with a smug grin. He couldn’t look away from the train wreck that the man had become. He wore an obnoxious, tacky suit with bold colors, it was embarrassing.
“Do you really find that man interesting enough to glare a hole in his head?” Riddle commented as he inspected a bottle of cheap perfume. Harry grumbled and turned back to the stall.
“Of course not, it was only that I recognized him. You know, he was one of the last to see me before I was shipped away. Cormac was, at the time, working to become a general,” He couldn’t stop the sting of delight he felt at the man's failures.
“And for that you hate him?” Riddle inquired, in the past month Harry had spent enough time to tell he was goading him for information. Wanting to instigate a melt down, most likely. It had happened many times before and yet, still he had not learned to avoid playing along.
“Not exactly, he was a nuisance even before then. He had no grasp on the words he spoke, grew up spoiled and treated like a king.” Harry sneered. “Cormac was happy to see me arrested. He thought he had a better chance without me criticizing him.” Harry could only suspect what led him to his downfall but he hoped it was painful. It was because of his reminiscing that he didn’t notice Riddle walking closer to the loud man, Harry trailing behind him absentmindedly.
It was only when he could hear McLaggan a mere few feet from him did he notice where Riddle had led him. He looked at Tom in confusion and only received a smile in response. Harry nicknamed it the smile of mischief, something was always bound to happen when it appeared.
“Listen here!” Cormac yelled out to the crowd. “Have any of you ever had a day when you were down on your luck! When things just seemed to fall apart?” He asked the crowd, which responded with nods and mumbled ascents.
“Then I have the thing for you!” The man looked to the side as if expecting someone to be there, then frowned. “TEDDY!”
A young boy came running in from between the crowd, pushing past Harry and Tom to get the man. He looked to be about 11. McLaggen gripped him by the arm and pulled him onto the soapbox, with a sharp tug. Memories of his own treatment filled Harry's mind.
“See this young lad.” He patted the boy’s head and pulled his hair out the way in a crude facsimile of a loving parent. “So young with such an unfortunate past. Dead parents and orphanages.” He squeezed the boy’s cheeks and cooed. “But still he prevails, would you like to know why?” McLaggen asked with a sly smile. No one paid any attention to the child rubbing his cheeks in pain.
“With my amazing craftwork and genius I have concocted an elixir to make all your deepest worries melt away.” He pulled a bottle from his pocket that seemed to be filled with a sloshing yellow liquid. “I urge you guys to try a sip, for free as a favor from me.” He passed the bottle to the man in front, as one by one people took turns sampling the concoction. When it got to Harry he only sniffed it. He noticed that on the bottle was a piece of tape, with the words, Felix Felicis. Stupid
“Riddle, I’m pretty sure this cannabis oil mixed with citrus juice.” Tom snatched it to inspect the odd liquid. Dropping much of it on the floor beneath them.
“Oh yes, definitely.” The bottle was tossed by the man next to him. “Don’t drink it, it’s a scam.” He said loud enough to be heard by Cormac, purposely. Harry let out a laugh.
“You two.” He looked straight at them with contempt. “Do you doubt me? Or are you simply spreading poisonous lies to those around me.”
“Lies? If you would be so kind, could you name some of the ingredients for me?” Harry asked with a purposefully confused expression.
“What? I- uh…” He sputtered incoherently. Before he could embarrass himself any further Teddy spoke out.
“It’s filled with cherry blossom extract, orange zest, and a very special secret ingredient.” He said proudly. Harry could hear Tom muttering to him about “secret ingredients”. It did sound stupid when said out loud, it didn’t fix any of his misgivings about the product. For all anyone knew that secret ingredient was indeed, cannabis oil.
“Really? A secret ingredient.” Harry couldn’t stop himself from antagonizing him further. “Oh how the McLaggan name had fallen, yelling off of soapboxes and swindling the public.”
“Who are you, thinking you’re better than me?” He jumped off the box and stalked towards the two men. He looked Harry in the eyes for a few seconds when a look of recognition passed his face.
“Mr. Perverell, and I work in an actual shop. I don’t need to beg people on the street for my services. You obviously can’t say the same.” Tom chose on the spot to give a fake name to the man, Potter was too recognizable, everyone knew who he was. From the corner of his eye he could feel Harry's surprised stare on his face.
“Mr. Perverall.” The man practically purred it, his eyes alight with what looked to be thinly veiled excitement. “I don’t suppose that you might own a barber shop. Do you?” McLaggan guilefully asked. The blood in Harry's veins seemed to burn, he wanted the man to stay quiet, he didn’t want to be here anymore. His brashness being his downfall once again.
“I, matter of fact, do.” Tom was looking back and forth between the two as if he were watching a show, eyes wide and a smile teasing his lips. He was excited to see how it ended.
“Lucky guess.” The welcher breathed out, he quickly turned back to the crowd, ending the conversation early. Riddle hummed in disappointment. The two of them quickly left after that, one feeling unsettled and the other disappointed.
“You know I really thought you were going to brawl with him.” Riddle mumbled, kicking a rock in front of him, like a dejected toddler.
“Don’t act so disappointed, I’m not as impulsive as you think I am.” The shop was a short walk from the shopping center so he could see it in the distance. Knockturn was such a small place too.
“Oh really, Mr. Peverall.” Harry hit him with the shoulder as he sped up.
“Oh stop that, you came up with the name afterall.”
“You know if you can’t handle people recognizing you, maybe you shouldn’t open a shop after all.” Riddle mumbled, his body looking almost weightless as he glided forwards. His shoes silent as they hit the cobblestone.
“Wasn’t it your idea?” He didn’t put in all this work to back out now, he was gonna go through with it.
“You don’t understand, I’m not saying you shouldn’t open the shop, only that Mr. Potter shouldn’t open the shop.” Harry frowned.
“If you're trying to imply that I change my name, it wouldn’t work. I don’t have the funds or the documents to do that.”
“Not legally, but if you name the shop Peverell's instead of Potter, you could keep both the shop and your identity. People will assume that’s your name and won’t suspect it.” The silence was loud, both men had thoughts going through their mind, miles a minute. The shop name wasn’t yet established so it was perfectly feasible.
It was as they were about to enter the shop that he heard a loud shout. “MR. POTTER!” , heard from behind him. Scorpius was seen running down the street with a bright smile on his face.
“Mr. Potter.” He repeated out of breath. “I’ve finally found you! I’ve been going from hotel to inn, to shop, looking for you!”
“Hello Malfoy.” He smiled, his pensive expression slipping into a fond grin. Somehow, it seemed like Toms did the exact opposite. It was at that point that Scorpius finally noticed the man standing besides Harry
“Oh Hello.” He said, with a bright smile. “Sorry for being so rude. My name is Scorpius Malfoy.” Tom looked the boy up and down before scoffing and going inside. His smiles melted.
“Sorry about him, he’s just being pissy cause he lost the chance to watch a brawl.” He couldn’t stand to watch the disappointment in the boy's face. Like someone kicked his dog.
“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Oh, no of course not. I was opening up a new barber shop just above here and there's not much to do before it opens. In the next month you could drop by anytime and I would most likely be free.” He waved towards the stairs leading to the shop above, now fully replaced. He would be owing a lot of debt to Tom, but he’ll pay it back soon, in the end it was more of his fathers money than his own.
“How exciting, I hope to be one of your first customers.” Harry smiled down at him, a tad condescending.
“Scorp, you’re 15, you have no facial hair.”
“What about my hair, can’t you do that?” He said without pause.
“Do you really want to cut your hair?” Despite Harry and Draco’s obvious dislike of eachother, Scorpius admired his father, trying to emulate everything about him. Including his hair.
“Well how about a little trim? It could just go right here.” He put his hand just at his shoulders. Which was kind of funny, considering that it was not at all “ a little trim”, that was a few inches.
“Are you sure?” Scorpius nodded with vigor. “Well then, whenever you would like I’m always open for you.”
“How about right now?” He didn’t know why but he really did enjoy Mr. Potter's company.
“The shop is not yet fully furnished, you know, I still have to paint the sign and buy a few decorations.”
“But do you have the tools?”
“...Yes, but still. It’s in complete disarray on the inside.” He knew how people of high society acted, it surely wouldn’t be up to par for them,
“I don’t mind.” Harry grimaced but conceded. From his short trip with him, he knew how determined that boy can be when he wanted something.
“Okay, go ahead up to the shop, here's the keys. I just need to tell Tom where I’ll be.” Hopefully his little dramatic mood had winded down.
“Thank you Mr. Potter. Really.” Then he was up the stairs. Sometimes he didn’t know what to do with that boy.
“You spent a long time with him.” Tom mumbled just as he walked in.
“It was only five minutes. What’s your problem? Your acting especially pissy.” Apparently he did not lose his mood.
“I don’t like the Malfoy family, they’re all a bunch of rich prats. And, it’s a bit weird, how you just got here and already have friends, you looked at him so fondly.” He said the last word, with a bit of a lilt, implication clear.
“First of all, I know the family is terrible, but Scorpius is a nice boy. What are you trying to imply? Of Course I look at him fondly, he’s a friend.” His voice was starting to rise steadily, his confusion morphing into anger.
Tom mumbled something under his breath and started to prepare the pies. “You look at him weirdly. You know for all you talk about loving your wife you sure do make a lot of ‘friends’.” And there it was. He could deal with a lot of Tom’s shit, but this is where he drew the line, that fact he would even imply something as gross was insulting.
“What the fuck are you talking about! He’s the only friend I have at the moment. Are you trying to imply that I’m involved with him!” Harry yelled. “Are you fucking sick in the head! That is a child, probably younger than my own.” He stopped abruptly. “You know what. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I only came in to tell you that he’s waiting upstairs, I’m going to cut his hair.” He shut the door with a flourish.
As he walked up the star he could hear Riddle yelling. “Fuck You!” A lot of the people passing by were staring but it wasn’t too out of the norm in knockturn. It wasn’t exactly a nice street.
“Sorry it took so long.” Harry mumbled as he walked into the room. The boy was sitting upon the barbers chair, cape already on his lap. But even then he looked concerned.
“Are you okay? I heard you guys fighting.” Harry reddened, imagining the young boy hearing such vulgar language.
“Oh, you heard our argument?”
“Just the yelling and even then I couldn’t make out what was said. You are okay, though, right?” He asked earnestly, eyes bright and sincere.
“Of course, now settle down.” The boy had no protest about this, and he started right away. Soon, he lost himself in the sound of the scissors and sprays of water. It had been so long since he had the opportunities to do this and it still felt like second nature. His fight with Riddle was long forgotten, even Scorpius seemed much calmer, his legs had stopped bouncing every other minute. In fact, if Harry didn’t know any better, he might have thought that the boy had fallen asleep.
It was only as he was finishing up that Harry began to talk. “How has your father been?” He mumbled as he pulled the boy's hair out to tie into a neat ribbon.
“He’s been kind of stressed lately, a lot of meetings and stuff. He recently took me to a “friend's” house to see how the business works but to be honest, I don’t really understand what we do.” He grumbled. “It’s just a bunch of talk about money, policies, and keeping the public in line.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're just lackeys to the minister, and I don’t believe the minister even likes us.” Harry laughed, it seemed like the boy was expecting more than he got. He would soon learn that almost any job being deemed as important in high society was mostly consisting of you being a lackey for some higher official.
Harry suddenly spinned him around in the chair to face the mirror. “So…What do you think?” He asked with an egoistic grin.
“Oh, it’s wonderful!” The boy said with a laugh. “I bet father will love it!” They soon said their goodbyes and went on their ways.
It was when Harry was cleaning that the overhead bell rang again. He turned, expecting Tom or maybe even Malfoy again, but to his surprise it wasn’t either.
“McLaggan” Harry nodded at him, shoulders tense. “The shop is not yet open.”
“Wouldn’t you let an old friend in for an appointment, help me out a bit?” Without waiting for an answer he started setting his stuff down, it was only now that he noticed the young Teddy, hiding behind his legs.
“Old friend? I don’t believe we met until today.” It seemed like he wasn’t leaving, so he set the shaving equipment out.
McLaggan sat down with a flourish, putting the cape on himself. “Don’t play coy Mr. Potter, anyone with the ability to see could figure out who you are.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t get what you mean?” He laid the hot towel on McLaggans face. It was only then he noticed the young boy standing awkwardly by the door, swinging his arms back and forth to some invisible melody.
“Your name's Teddy right?”
“Yes, Sir.” He said, apprehensively. Twisting the stray fabric between his fingers.
“Why don’t you go downstairs to the shop below. Tell Riddle I sent you, it’s on my tab.” The boy's eyes brightened and he nodded gratefully before running off.
He pulled the towel off before sharpening his razors. “My name is Henry Peverell, don’t do me the injustice of calling me anyone else.” The razors were put down as Harry prepared the shaving foam, brushing it over his face
“You didn’t even change the initials, Henry Harry, Potter Peverell. You don't believe that this will take attention away from you. Do you?”
He stopped suddenly as Harry's blade descended upon his neck, the slide of it going over his Adam's apple.
“Most people are not as nosy as you.” Harry whispered, yet his voice was hard.
“So you admit it. You are Mr. Potter.”
“There’s no use in denying it anymore, you're just gonna keep bugging.” He muttered as he kept an eye on the blade.
“Smart.” Cormac moved his head to say something else, but his cheek was nicked. A drop of blood mixed with the foam.
“You mustn't move too much when I work, McLaggan. You know this.” Harry grumbled as he wiped the blood away with a small towel.
“It was an accident, mistakes happen.” He settled down on the seat again. “Now carry on.” Harry put the knife on his cheek and his head near his ear,
“Don’t be so condescending,” Harry whispered, pulling the knife up over his cheek bones. Mclaggan gulped. Harry was afraid that if he was to be any louder, he would start yelling. McLaggan had the uncanny ability to make his blood boil, since they were kids.
The shave was finished in silence, he placed the mirror in front of the man's face and turned his head from one side to the other.
“In the years I was gone, I have never lost my skill.” It seemed that the man wasn’t appreciative of his work, because he rolled his eyes.
“You're right, you haven’t.” McLaggan stood up and walked around the shop. “But you did lose your standing, people aren't going to like it if they hear a criminal is running the shops.”
“Then it’s a good thing they won’t know it’s me, will it?” He had already decided earlier after the public incident that he wouldn't be going by his old name.
“Won’t they? All it takes is one slip of the tongue,...” He stood still then turned his head to look over his shoulder at Harry. “But things could be done to ensure it stays quiet.” Harry frowned.
“What are you trying to imply?” He asked, his voice hardening by the second. It seemed like today people only wanted to speak in riddles.
“It must be obvious by now that I lost my job, many not taking kindly to “how I treated woman”, but it was a misunderstanding and still I was thrown out.” He looked out the window to the shops outside. The streets were entirely empty at the moment, a very rare occurrence. “I’m offering a deal.”
“No, you're offering blackmail.” He only shrugged, still looking out the window, his reflection showing a sly grin.
“It doesn’t really matter what you call it, the outcome stays the same.” He looked back at Harry. “I believe that I deserve at least 50% of the profits.” Harry immediately let out a barking laugh, reminiscent of his late godfather.
“You're crazy if you think I’ll be willing!” He walked closer to Mclaggan, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you just go on your merry way and leave me alone, there's nothing for you here.” His hand was smacked away, unnecessarily hard.
“People aren't gonna come to a criminals shop. Just admit it. You need me to keep your secret!” His emotions were obviously unstable, probably a bi-product of his unfortunate life in the last decade.
“I don’t need you, I wouldn’t trust you to keep a secret. You could barely hold in inappropriate comments when I was being arrested!” Harry was already having a pretty stressful day, only having Scorpius to thank for not exploding. He did not need this right now.
“Get out of my shop!” Harry yelled, anger starting to boil over. McLaggen took a step towards the door to leave, but he never did learn when to shut his mouth and keep quiet.
“Must be awful, with a missing kid and wife. Probably out there whoring herself out for money.” He wasn’t quick enough to dodge.
Harry threw himself at Cormac, who fell to the ground with a sound of surprise.
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Downstairs, none the wiser, both Teddy and Tom looked up when there was a loud thud.
“Must have dropped something heavy.” He mumbled, as he sat at the table with the starving child. Despite the food being awful the boy seemed to have no complaints yet, having already had three of them.
“Master is very clumsy.” Teddy nodded, crumbs falling from his mouth as he talked. Tom recoiled, disgusted with the uncouth display. Harry would say that he had no room to talk, his entire establishment was filthy. Tom would have ignored him.
“Master? I thought he was your father?” He asked as got up to wipe the crumbs and suspicious looking dirt away.
“Oh no. Both my father and mother died when I was two.” He wiped his mouth and took a big gulp of water. “Supposably I was living with Mrs. Weasley until my master took me a few years ago.” He looked up in thought. “I think I was seven. I’ve never actually been to an orphanage.” Tom frowned.
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Upstairs Harry was struggling to breathe. McLaggan had flipped them and in a state of anger wrapped his hands around his throat. Harry kicked his leg out and landed a couple of hits but the man had never let go. They managed to fall into the table, dropping a few of his closed blades, hitting Harry in the nose and the other man's back. Mclaggans hair was in Harry's fist, the light brown hair straining against his fingers. He was pulling with all his might, vision starting to go blurry.
“G-get o-off!” He coughed out. In a desperate bid to rid the body above him, he grabbed the first thing on the floor next to him, the man's hair released, brown pieces floating down with it. As soon as his fingers closed around them, he knew what was in his hands. He struggled to open it with one hand but it eventually made a clicking noise, catching both of them off guard with the sound. He took the momentary distraction to swing, cutting Mclaggans arm deep enough so that Harry could be released.
Harry, finally breathing in air, started coughing, spit dripping from the corners as he choked, he could hear Cormacs labored breathing. He looked behind him to see Cormac holding his arm. The man who tried to blackmail him, the man who insulted his wife. The man who arrested him, despite knowing the truth.
He sat up, opening the blade the rest of the way, and with a unsettling calmness crawled towards McLaggan. He must have seen the look in his eyes, for he quickly scooted back from him, his arm leaving a sticky trail. Spreading the coppery smell.
“Potter, you don’t have to do this.” He whispered, voice tinged with pain. “I’ll leave, I promise. I won’t bother you.” His back hit the door.
“Please.”
Harry didn’t listen, he grabbed him by his cravat to pull him forward, muscles too weak to move forward. “I didn’t ask you to be here.” He whispered. “You did this to yourself.” He barely remembered moving the blade, but one moment Mclaggan was staring fearfully up at him, the next he was bent over choking on his own blood. In seconds he was dead.