Chapter 5
Harry really didn’t want to go inside his aunt’s house, not with Dudley looking the way he did. But Dudley was heavy, and Harry was exhausted from the dementor attack and everything that had happened that day and over the entire summer. He didn’t have it in him to care about being lied to by someone else or about his uncle’s no doubt horrible reaction to Dudley looking like he’d been violently sick and Harry bringing him in looking that way. Groaning slightly at the effort, Harry dragged Dudley up the few stairs to their porch and pushed open the door, relieved that it wasn’t locked. He could hear the TV going on about how hot it was outside, and Harry guessed he should be glad his aunt or the TV man hadn’t noticed the freak cold snap and rain caused by the dementors.
“Diddykins, is that you?”
Harry could hear the fan buzzing and his aunt’s smile at the mention of her son, but he’d come too far to back out of the situation now. He sighed mentally and pushed the door open, just knowing he was about to be blamed for this. Of course, it did look like Dudley’s condition was his fault. Harry could acknowledge that even knowing the truth about dementors.
“Dudley?” Petunia asked, worried about her son and ignoring the heat. “Vernon, come quick!”
Vernon, perhaps alarmed by the urgency in his wife’s voice, hurried over to the armchair Harry had just put his son in. He didn’t even bother putting the spoon in his hand down.
“We’ll have to take him to the hospital,” Petunia whispered. She hated looking anything other than perfectly normal, and having her freak of a nephew walking into her house carrying her ill son was sure to make the neighbors talk. She mentally started preparing for the inquisition, and perhaps questions about Harry getting her sweet Dudders to try drugs. Without any other knowledge, she shuddered to think about what other explanations the neighbors might discuss.
“Who did this to you, boy?” Vernon asked, furious and looking for a target.
Shakily, Dudley lifted his hand to point at Harry.
“Happy, are we? Eh? You’ve finally done it. You’ve finally driven him loopy.”
Harry could see that he wanted to advance on Harry, but he was stopped by Petunia’s whisper of, “Vernon! Don’t say that!”
Vernon made an angry noise and gestured uselessly with his hands. “Just look at him, Petunia! Our boy has gone yumpy! I’ve reached my limit! Do you hear? This is the last I’m going to take of you and your nonsense!”
Harry straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the counter. “Fine then. Let me get my things, and I’ll be gone. You won’t ever have to see me again.”
“Good! You’re not welcome here, not anymore! We didn’t want you in the first place, and now you’ve injured our son? You have five minutes, and then don’t you ever come back!” Vernon looked too pleased with himself. He’d finally found a reason no one could dispute for getting rid of his no-good nephew. He’d put up with a lot over the years, but he could finally be free! “Cure our boy, now!”
Harry paused on his way out the door. “I’ll tell you how to fix him as soon as you get me my school stuff from under the stairs.”
He ignored the sputtering behind him and climbed the stairs quickly, closing his door behind him. “I don’t know if you heard any of that, but we’ve gotta get out of here! Can you unlock Hedwig’s cage again Steve?” He carefully grabbed two chocolates and held one out to the bird. They both needed chocolate as soon as possible to help combat the shock of the attack.
Steve carefully transformed into as human a shape as he could manage. Even if he still hadn’t processed any of his memories, too worried about Harry, he was glad for his more humanoid form now. “Sure. What else do you need?” Steve asked, picking up the little stick of metal that was now dwarfed by his hands.
“I need to pack my clothes and food things, and then stick all of it in with my school stuff. I’ve got four more minutes to be out of the house.” Hedwig hopped out of the cage. Harry turned to her. “Go Hedwig! I trust you’ll find me later?” She cooed and took off. “How can you do that anyway?”
Steve paused from where he was piling clothes in the box he’d been sleeping in, though he was internally planning on getting rid of these disasters of clothing as quickly as possible. “I’m not entirely sure, but I haven’t absorbed all of the memories the dementor attack brought to the front of my mind.”
“Well, maybe we should just let a dementor loose on Lockhart! That would either fix his memory or fix his problem of being alive. After what he did to so many witches and wizards, no one would complain either,” Harry chuckled. He finished retrieving his stashed food from under the loose plank in his room and the few sentimental things he’d managed to keep with him, placing them in the grocery bag Steve had given him his present in just two days before. “Okay, I think we have everything. Meet you outside?”
Steve nodded, transformed back into his bird form with the ease of having done so a few times every morning over the past week, and flew out of the still-open window. Harry shut it behind him, picked up his box of clothes and the bag on top of it, and headed down the stairs, taking one last look at the door with many locks and a cat flap installed in it. He’d never be here again, never be held prisoner in this house again. Good riddance. Uncle Vernon stood at the bottom of the stairs, fuming. Harry’s school stuff lay scattered around him, like the great lump had tried to break anything he could but hadn’t managed it. Harry had hidden everything breakable before he packed for the train, and most of his stuff was made as durable as possible anyway, whether he bought it that way or researched to make it that way..
“Boy! How do I fix my son!” Vernon demanded.
“He’ll be fine if you give him some chocolate,” Harry said, enjoying the disbelieving look on his face. “The things that attacked us are called dementors, and chocolate helps ease the lingering strain of almost having your soul sucked out. Actually, you’re lucky I was there, because he’d be a vegetable with no soul otherwise.” Harry didn’t necessarily believe that because he felt it highly unlikely the dementors were there to do anything but attack him, but he could enjoy watching his uncle’s face turn purple with rage one last time.
“That had better work boy, or I swear I’ll make you pay!” Vernon fumed. He couldn’t do anything and he knew it, but he hurried back to his son nevertheless. Let the freak take his things and leave. He was someone else’s problem now. [Somewhere deep in the Headmaster’s office in Hogwarts, a heavily flawed and chipped crystal that might have been a marble once finally shattered fully. The alarm placed to warn of such an occurrence didn’t go off. The piece had always been heavily flawed, and new cracks constantly wormed themselves further into the fragile ball. This was just one more crack. The Headmaster slept on, oblivious.]
Carefully, Harry picked up and repacked his school stuff, balancing the box and bag containing the last of his stuff on top of it as carefully as possible. Hedwig’s cage he stuck on top of all that with the hope that it wouldn’t fall. He struggled them out of the front door and down the steps, then looked over to where Steve had perched. “The way I see it, you can jump under my invisibility cloak and try not to draw attention or get in Hedwig’s cage. Nod for cloak, shake your head for cage.” Harry felt stupid, but he had no other ideas on getting Steve places. The hawk-human still couldn’t turn fully human, so he couldn’t just walk around with Harry, not that the young man would recommend that anyway. People around him tended to die or at least get injured, and the press always sniffed out when someone new was around him.
Steve considered his options carefully. He really didn’t like the idea of getting in Hedwig’s cage, especially since Harry had no clue how to pick locks in case the padlock accidentally snapped shut. He didn’t want to try shifting to his more human form while still in a cage if he did get stuck. Steve couldn’t just walk around as a human either. As much as he appreciated his form and the talons he’d used earlier, no-maj’s wouldn’t exactly appreciate it. So, that left him with the option of trying Harry’s invisibility cloak and praying that it was a high-quality one that wouldn’t show on any technology or shimmer when he moved like so many did, even in his day (whenever that was. Steve was still trying to figure it out.). Carefully, the red tailed hawk perched on the Privet Drive signpost nodded his head.
Harry carefully unstacked his things and dug around in his trunk. Eventually, he held up a velvety-looking cape. “Here it is!” Carefully, Harry placed it on top of the box of his clothes and shoved everything into his trunk that had been there in the first place. He even managed to fit Hedwig’s case in there with enough force. Harry hadn’t realized how much space a full-size cloak like his took up when folded, but at least now Muggle transportation was an option. He wouldn’t stand out so much without the cage, and people wouldn’t report his movements to the paper, Voldemort, or Dumbledore. Honestly, this was a pretty good option. Harry walked until he was somewhat shaded from the light of the streetlamp, then called Steve over to him. “Here, I’ll drape this over you, and then you can transform back. I do not want any alarmed Muggles causing problems this close to freedom.”
Silently, Steve did as Harry asked. He startled slightly when the large piece of fabric swamped over him, but he suppressed his urge to flee and transformed to his humanoid shape. “Can you see me when I move?” he whispered, walking back out towards the light.
“No, not even a little bit. Y’know, this is honestly a bit unnerving. I can see why my friends like me to take off the cloak as soon as I can whenever I’m around them.”
“I would, but feathers.”
Harry laughed quietly. “Alright. Are you feeling like dealing with a Muggle bus or a wizard bus?”
“Where are we headed?”
“I’m thinking Diagon Alley, the wizarding shopping district in London, but I’m worried that the wizard bus would have someone telling someone else where I’m going this late at night.”
“Will there be more of these people at the Alley?” Steve asked, concerned. Harry had talked about how annoying Rita Skeeter and The Daily Prophet were when he told him about his fourth year, but Steve was starting to feel like he’d underestimated just how famous Harry was.
“Definitely.”
“Then we might as well try the wizard bus and not deal with the hassle of trying to get somewhere magical through non-magical means.”
“Makes sense. I hate being famous.” Harry muttered the last part under his breath.
“Actually…” Steve considered, “I might have a way to disguise you. I was particularly good with visual things and magics, at least from what I can remember about my past.”
Harry shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”
Steve was silent.
“It can’t hurt, right?!”
“There’s a small chance you might forever look different, but I haven’t done that since I was twelve.”
“How old are you now?!” Harry asked.
“I’m pretty sure I’m seventeen, or my body is, because I match how I looked at that age minus all the hawk parts. Mentally, I’m somewhere between fifteen and twenty, I think. The dementor really did a number on my mind. I need to sort it out. Anyway, I promise I know how to do this.”
“You’re sure?” Harry asked with more vulnerability than he was comfortable with. He didn’t enjoy looking just like his dad with his mom’s eyes, but if and when he changed that, it would be on his own terms.
“Yeah. How do you feel about longer brown-ish hair and a different face? I can give you slightly different bangs if I can’t hide your scar, and I do want to change the shape of your glasses.”
“That sounds like a lot,” Harry laughed nervously.
“If people know your face well, all of that might be necessary,” Steve said seriously. At least for the next few days or until Harry wanted to be found, he planned to be as cautious as possible.
Harry sighed. “You’ll need to do all of it then. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“We should probably go somewhere darker for that though.”
“You should think about what name you’re going to give then,” Steve snickered.
Harry laughed slightly too, remembering his own past experience with the Knight Bus. “Wait, how are you so good at this?”
“I think it’s some combination of luck, experience, and whatever memories I don’t have. I know I’m missing a big chunk of memory, but I also don’t know how I can use lockpicks and here we are. It sucks, but I think I’m just going to have to be patient.”
Harry nodded, not sure what to say to that. He was slightly concerned that Steve seemed experienced in breaking into things and disguising himself, but they were helpful skills to have. Having decided to walk over by the park, Harry headed over there, hoping that Steve was following him. They might have been attacked there yesterday, but calling the Knight Bus in front of a park was slightly less revealing than calling it directly in front of Number Four, just in case this disguise didn’t work. The park was dimly lit at night, something Harry was planning on taking advantage of as he confidently hid himself in the darkest shadow. “Steve? I’m ready.”
“I’m going to change your hair first. I’ll have to run my hands - talons? - through your hair. Are you okay with that?”
Harry nodded. If Steve did hurt him, it would be entirely by accident. Whoever the bird had been before he came to live with Harry, he’d proven himself willing and able to help protect Harry, and he was completely upfront about it. When sharp-tipped hands flashed briefly out of the cloak and appeared in his hair, Harry flinched slightly before steeling himself. The sensation of hands running through his hair was actually… kind of nice. Harry supposed that he wouldn’t have known if he liked it before or not because no one had ever done something like this for him, but he really did enjoy it. He leaned slightly into the hands, ignoring the itch in his scalp the best he could. Eventually, Steve drew his hands away, and Harry slumped slightly.
“What next?” Harry asked, trying to disguise how much he’d enjoyed Steve playing with his hair and the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.
Steve tried to clear his throat as quietly as possible and ignore the blush on his own cheeks. “I’m gonna change the shape of your glasses and facial features, so I’m going to have to touch your face. Are you okay with me doing that?”
Harry nodded with absolutely no hope of hiding his blush.
“Okay, I’m going to take off your glasses. I’m going to put them back on when I’m done.” Steve did exactly what he said he would, then ran his talon-tips as gently over Harry’s face as possible. He didn’t want to hurt Harry, but he knew that without a wand or something like that, he needed to actually touch whatever he was disguising. All of his scant memories of doing something like this, usually with Bucky, agreed on that. His magic was slightly different than he was used to - it felt colder than it ever had in his memories, but it responded just as quickly, if not faster, than he remembered. He finished rounding Harry’s jawline slightly, changed the shape of his glasses while trying to keep the prescription as close to what Harry needed as possible, and gently placed the glasses back on Harry’s face, feeling awkward.
Harry leaned back, feeling slightly lost without the light touch. Just like with the hair, no one had ever touched him like this before, and Harry found he liked it. He liked being touched gently like this. If he tried hard enough, Harry could even convince himself that the person that was touching him loved him. Steve’s hands disappeared back beneath the invisibility cloak, and Harry blinked slightly. He needed to get his money out of his bag before he could call the Knight Bus. Carefully, Harry pulled out a few Galleons and his wand, made sure everything in his trunk was carefully packed to ensure that nothing would break, and stole a peek in the mirror his godfather had mailed him during the Triwizard Tournament. If Harry didn’t know it was him looking in that mirror, he wouldn’t have recognized himself. Steve had done what he’d promised in a frighteningly good way. Harry straightened up with the confidence of a man no longer set for the gallows and strode over to the streetside with this trunk in one hand and his wand in the other. He flung out his wand arm and carefully leant his trunk and box of clothes back upright for however long he would be waiting. The ghost of a touch assured Harry that Steve was still following him, and Harry smiled slightly.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be the conductor for this evening,” the conductor that Harry remembered lying to last time he’d ridden the Knight Bus said. Just like last time, he’d read his welcome spiel off of a ratty piece of paper and insisted on getting Harry’s luggage for him when he tried to take it.
“Evan Fleece for the Leaky, please,” Harry said as he got on the bus. He didn’t want to attract the conductor’s extra attention by acting as suspicious as he had before his third year.
Stan sniffed slightly and hustled Harry into the Bus. “You’re going to have to pay extra for your invisible friend.”
“Will this cover it?” Harry asked, holding out a Galleon to the man and hoping that he’d take it without asking more questions.
“Sure. Do you want hot chocolate?”
Harry shook his head a little desperately as he sat down on a bed and grabbed tight. Steve, enough, settled on the bed with him, maybe thinking they’d have time to chat on the ride to wherever they were headed. He obviously had no clue what he was getting into. Come to think of it, Harry had never actually explained anything about the Knight Bus, so there was no way he could have known anything about it. Unfortunately, it was too late for second thoughts now.
“Suit yourself.” Stan knocked on the glass. “Take her away, Ern.”
“Yeah, take her away Ernie,” the shrunken, slightly mutilated head jeered. Harry did his absolute best to ignore the head’s comments like he had last time.
Harry grabbed onto the bed poles tightly. “Brace yourself,” Harry whispered as quickly and quietly as he could. He could almost feel a question mark emanating from Steve. The Bus cranked into gear with the head’s maniacal laughter, swerving wildly through traffic and around corners, and Harry guessed Steve no longer questioned why he needed to hold onto the bed as tightly as possible.
Steve was having a slight crisis. He’d chosen to sit next to Harry on the bed because people usually had time to talk and were in control of their bodies while taking a bus. Well, not this Bus! Steve had just tentatively grabbed onto the sides of the bed, hoping that gravity would help the invisibility cloak hide whatever might be showing of his talons or talon-tips, but gravity didn’t seem to be operative on this bus. He’d ended up sprawled over the bed probably tearing holes in the mattress with his claws with Harry bracing himself on his legs. Honestly, it was a miracle the invisibility cloak was doing as much as it was to hide him as the bus gyrated wildly. In that moment, Steve hated Stan Shunpike with a burning passion he’d never quite felt before.
Personal contact wasn’t exactly Harry’s strongest point. He’d found Steve’s legs propped up behind his back and had jumped away from them a few times, then given in both to temptation and centrifugal force and leaned on them as hard as he felt he needed to, as hard as he dared. Steve’s bony legs were shockingly steady, never wavering even when taking Harry’s full weight. It was probably the longest someone had ever touched him after his parents died. With two ticket stubs clutched in his white-knuckle fist and crumpled around the pole, Harry was pretty sure he’d never appreciated someone as much as he did Stan Shunpike in that moment. The warmth radiating from Steve’s legs through his cloak and their clothing into Harry’s back was incredible and soothing. Harry never wanted the crazy bus ride to end.
Eventually, all good things come to an end. Harry knew this better than most, having rarely experienced the good things in the swamp of bad that was his life. He struggled to move from his curled position as the bus came to a stop. There was no little old lady to pause their route or car alarm going off, and Harry felt vaguely cheated. He needed more time, even if he had to justify it to Steve as bracing to not fall off of the bed instead of whatever the actual reason was. Of course, he wasn’t going to get more time. When had he ever? Glumly he stood. Steve stood up slightly after he did, and Harry had to focus a little too hard on something other than the holes Steve’s talons had left in the mattress. He didn’t know why they called to him, but they did, and they were taking over his brain.
“The Leaky Cauldron,” Stan said, gesturing to the shabby building and its dilapidated sign. Steve was completely relieved, yet oddly disappointed. His legs felt cold. Harry hated Stan Shunpike, his back cold and lonely.
“Next stop, Knockturn Alley!” the head called.
Harry’s luggage clattered onto the street, and a slightly sharp hand brushed over Harry’s shoulder. The Knight Bus sped away, disappearing gradually into nothing, almost like it was driving into fog even though the night was completely clear. Steve and Harry stood in the doorway of The Leaky Cauldron for longer than was probably advisable. “I can get the luggage,” Steve offered quietly, breaking some sort of non-magic spell.
“Once we get in the Leaky, maybe. People could avoid you then. This is still a Muggle street with cameras and everything.” Harry’s stomach was doing weird things. He attributed it to the dementor attack, the one measly chocolate he’d had after it, and the lack of a real dinner.
“We’ll get a meal somewhere in the near future, yeah?” Steve didn’t leave Harry long to feel guilty about making him miss a meal or some claptrap. “I’ve been working too hard to get you eating on a normal schedule to give up on it now. Plus, you might actually be able to get a full meal now that we’re away from your loving relatives.”
Harry nodded, dismissing the slight guilt and frustration at himself for taking up Steve’s time and making it all about him the best he could. His stomach really was doing weird things, so the sooner he got food, the better. Carefully, he pulled his trunk inside the pub’s door, then set it down. It would be easier for Steve to navigate the likely crowded space if he was holding a bulky piece of luggage. Besides, as long as he held it as carefully as possible and didn’t bounce much when he walked, his trunk and box should look like they legitimately were being levitated. As an added bonus, he’d have a clue on where Steve was in the room and if the man was following him, because Harry had been pretty worried for a second before Steve made it clear that he’d made it off of the Knight Bus after all. Harry needed to get out of the Dursleys’ house for his own sanity, but it somehow meant less if he wasn’t bringing Steve with him and could maybe help the hawk-human the way that he’d been helping Harry by providing food and company. Come to think of it, Harry didn’t actually know if Steve was being missed by anyone. With his luck, Steve was happily in a relationship or part of a family. Harry didn’t know why the first idea bothered him so much, but he decided to check that he wasn’t keeping Steve from someone the first chance he got anyway.
“Room for the night for Evan Fleece, please,” Harry said as politely as he could.
Tom, the bartender and someone who’d never seen the person in front of him in the small wizarding society of Britain, eyed the teenager in front of him. The accent said this person was from around here, and his being in the Leaky meant that he was definitely a wizard. Still, the child looked like he should be in Hogwarts, maybe in his fourth year. Worse, the child was too thin and in clothes far too baggy and stretched to have been bought for him, almost fragile except for the sheer willpower in those tired eyes. For a moment, Tom’s mind flashed to another too-small child with tired, fiery emerald eyes, but he shook those thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t help that child. No one could. This child, though. Tom could help this child and provide him with a free meal, or at least a discounted meal. “20 sickles for Room 12 and breakfast.” Tom would usually charge a Galleon, but this child needed the help even if his bottom line suffered slightly. He could take slightly less profit for the next almost-month if the child was safe.
Harry placed the Galleons he had still out of his trunk on tha bartop. “How long will this get me?”
“Four nights with breakfast. Here’s your key. Up the stairs and down the left fork,” Tom said, turning back around and holding out the mentioned item. If the child didn’t find somewhere to work, Tom would offer to let him bus tables or something. Long-time business man he might be, but all of his instincts screamed at him to protect this child, to keep him safe. For the sake of his own now-grown children who he’d always hoped would have people to help them, Tom would do what he could to help Evan. Even if that didn’t seem quite like a real name. It wasn’t his place to judge.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered. Tom had always been kind to him when he’d stayed here before, and he was still kind now, even without the Potter name. Exploring Diagon Alley without a famous face and experiencing genuine peoples’ reactions instead of what they acted like with a pre-formed opinion of the person they thought he should be was something Harry thought he would enjoy. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been dreading trying to sneak around and hide his face until Steve revealed his mad skills. He was too tired to go somewhere else for lodging, and he was glad of it now. Tom was familiar with Harry after his stay in The Leaky Cauldron during the summer before his third year, so if he didn’t realize that Evan Fleece was actually Harry Potter, Harry felt pretty safe in his disguise. Everyone else in the Alley, other than the goblins and perhaps the odd Gryffindor wouldn’t be familiar enough with him to recognize Harry from his mannerisms. He hoped.