Verus

1996, Little Whinging, Surrey, England

It seemed the pull of having his body forced every which way, and his limbs and organs coerced into an array of odd angles, was becoming all too familiar now to Harry.

The wind had, quite literally, just been kicked from his lungs as his feet met the slabbed ground of an all too quiet little street, and it was only thanks to Merlin's dutiful hold on his forearm that Harry did not go toppling head first into a cluster of nearby rose bushes.

"Well, I wonder" Harry said, after having finally caught his breath and righting himself, "Will that ever stop being such an experience?"

The wizard beside him merely chuckled in retort and clapped him merrily on the shoulder before he started off down the pavement without another word.

Harry blinked once in bemusement, then hurried after him- thankful that they'd had the foresight to shrink his luggage down beforehand.

As he strode to catch up to Merlin, Harry eyed the path beneath his feet critically. There seemed to be smooth individual slabs laid out one after the other which were greyish in colour and almost perfect, although he did note that one or two had slight cracks rippled through them. They appeared to have been designed to make walking along the roadside a lot easier, safer even. He hummed his appreciation.

It wasn't long before Merlin came to an abrupt stop, so abrupt in fact that Harry had all but a split second to stop his body from walking straight into the older gent. He huffed with a reluctant smile on his face before he turned to chase his mentors gaze, over towards where a small gathering of houses were neatly placed. There were several of them, all following the skirtings of the walkway which lined the empty road, and each of them identical, from the freshly cut grass and picket fences to the brick covered driveways.

Harry's gaze proceeded to wander after a momentary pause, and he took in the rest of his surroundings.

"This is not what I expected..." He murmured lowly. In fact, this was nothing compared to the memories he had seen and the stories Merlin had fed him back home.

Merlin hummed quietly in return, his hands clasped neatly together down by his lower abdomen. He turned only slightly in his stance. "Of what, my dear?"

"The main town- or city, rather?"

"Ah no, my dear. This," Merlin told him as he rose his arms outwards in gesture, "is the country. Vastly different in comparison to the main cities you have been shown. We couldn't just go appearing right in the centre of muggle London now, could we? No, I feel that would be rather absurd."

"Right... so you just decided to apparate us here then?"

"Correct."

"And where exactly is here, might I ask?"

Merlin gifted him a small, almost barley there smile and Harry tensed as a wave of apprehension washed over him. "This, is where you would have been raised if the fates hadn't led me to you. Actually, I suppose it would have been that house right over there."

Harry followed the man's short nod over towards a house with a painted wooden door and silver knocker. "Number 4." He whispered mostly to himself.

"Yes, number four. Such an odd number for something considered even, don't you think?"

Harry could only blink up at him.

"Never mind. I merely brought you here in hopes to show you what could have been." Merlin waved off as he raised his arm to check his left wrist, Harry's brow furrowed at the oddly fashioned bracelet he wore.

"What is that?"

"A watch, my dear."

Harry couldn't help his smile as he recalled an earlier teaching. "A device of time, no?"

The wizard simply chuckled at him as he fiddled with the clock's face. "You would be quite right."

Harry nodded with a content grin, but found his attention being drawn back to the house of number 4. Its presence was looming now- a portal of what could have beens, he supposed.

"Merlin, you never did quite explain the lengths as to why you chose to take me that night. Away from my mothers relatives."

Merlin shuffled in place, almost apprehensively, and Harry watched as his robes billowed in the late July winds. "That is a fine question, my dear, but perhaps... it would be easier for me to show you instead."

The man held his hands out and, surprised by the meaning of the gesture, Harry only took a brief moment before he hurried to nod his assent. Merlin smiled gently at him as he pressed his fingertips to Harry's temple.

A river of images flooded his mind at the touch.

Harry's eyes fell close to focus on them all and allowed his conscious to drift alongside them, observing closely.

Cautiously, he settled on one which held a strange energy and extended a hand out, the image distorted at his touch and separated into small pool of whirling waves which gradually encased his fingers and traveled up his arm.

The effect was instantaneous, his body was transported and Harry found that he had landed somewhere indoors. He swiftly surveyed his surroundings. On his left was a short staircase, a similar size to the ones used in the passageways he'd found back at the castle, and to his right was an ugly patterned wall which continued on down towards a shut door. He frowned, confused by the small hallway before he startled at the sound of a distinct and heavy thump.

Harry watched as the once closed door was thrown open in a fit of fury and he spun around fast enough to see a burly looking man, greying and round, shove a child, who could be no older than three or four, over the threshold and into the adjoining wall.

In an instant Harry was there, his eyes wide and blazing as he reached out to steady the young boy, who's head had propelled off of the wooden trimmings which belonged to the staircase overhead.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, utterly bewildered by the man's act of violence, to a child no less, but was ultimately silenced as he watched his hand fall through the small boys shoulder.

Harry stumbled back in shock.

His mouth tried to form coherent words as he stared down at the limb- weirdly, it still felt the same as it had always done, he wondered briefly what had occurred.

Harry was quickly snapped out of his thoughts though when he heard the oversized man continue to berate the tiny boy before him.

"Incompetent! That it what you are! And freakishly so!"

Then came the heavy handed smack and Harry watched on in horror as the child collapsed to the floor, knees burning against the thick carpet which laid there, his mouth open in a silent cry.

Harry was so shocked by the events that he too dropped to his knees in a poor attempt to console the child who did not know that he was there, and jerked when the older male decided to pick up the boy and manhandle his frighteningly frail frame into a nearby cupboard Harry had previously missed, hidden underneath the stairs.

The door slammed behind him before Harry could even think to act, and he was forced to oversee the greying man lock the compartment's door, still shouting all the while.

"This is where you will continue to stay, boy! Locked away from the rest of us until you can find it in yourself to act accordingly!" The man bellowed, his face red with anger, "And you can forget dinner- maybe that will teach you a lesson!"

And with one final heavy kick to the cupboard door, he waltzed away. Proud of himself.

Harry's heart broke at the sound of the muffled sobbing that shortly followed, so quiet he could only just about hear it over the thundering of his own heart in his ears. He stumbled towards the door, fingers clawing helplessly at the lock before his body was then ripped away.

Unsettled by the unexpected departure, Harry's head snapped in every available direction only to find himself somewhere else entirely.

Long gone was the paltry cupboard, he was now stood in a plain of grassy fields, the staircase replaced by an ageing wired fence.

Harry tripped over himself in his haste to return back to the boy, but the scene that unfolded before him caused him to pause. Because, in the distance, not all that far off, was a small group, all of them charging in one direction, his.

Harry's eyes widened on their own accord as the first person came running at him, so fast that he was caught off guard and could only stand there and stare as a dark haired boy passed right through him.

Recovering quickly from the strange sensation it had left behind, Harry jumped out of the way of the oncoming herd led by a scrawny fair-haired boy, who was practically a head taller than the first boy himself.

With a furrowed brow, Harry watched the rest of the group pass him by. His face hardened upon hearing the taunts and threats that were being cast out at the front runner, and rapidly he realised that this was no childish game of 'tag' or 'it', no, this was something else entirely.

He took off running without a second thought, and due to the height he had on them he caught up to the clearing, where the small group had since paused, in a matter of moments.

Upon his arrival, it wasn't all that difficult to spot the first boy. He had seemingly been tripped up by the root of a lone tree, his elbow was bleeding ferociously and he had since been cornered by the opposing group of pre-teens, but the boy didn't cower in the face of imminent danger like most would have expected. No, in fact he glared back at them. His eyes, which were ever so green, glowed with unfettered determination, unlike anything Harry himself had ever seen.

A stocky lad, slowed by a coat of baby fat, was the obvious instigator. He stood front and centre, grinning menacingly, as though all of his birthdays had come at once, and prowled towards the much shorter boy.

Another child, the blond Harry had taken earlier note of, skidded after him, he had a bright eyed smile plastered across his long mousy face and radiated excitement. "Go on, Dudley. Give him a right showing to! Teach him not to mess with us again." He goaded with a jut of his chin, all too happy to encourage the bigger boy.

"I didn't do anything."

Harry was surprised by how steady the voice, which had come from the smallest boy, had sounded. He was their apparent prey, their target, and you didn't have to be of high intellect to see that this wasn't a very fair fight. No, it was rather apparent that the boy would not be leaving this field unscathed.

Still, his face hardened as he met the eyes of each of his attackers.

The blond ignored him in favour of prompting. It seemed as though he was rather looking forward to getting this little show on the road.

Harry stepped forward as the bulkier boy begun to march closer, enclosing the smaller in a tight circle that formed. He wanted to do something, to speak up, but he stopped short upon realising that there was nothing he could actually do. He couldn't be seen.

Instead, Harry could only watch on as the group had their wicked fun tormenting the weaker of the lot. They kicked, hit, and punched. But for all it was worth, the smaller boy, with the dark hair and the haunting green eyes, fought back for as long as he possibly could before he was simply forced to take it. His jaw was clenched tightly as kick after kick came at his ribs and stomach, not once did he cry out or ask for them to stop. He was resilient.

Harry, slumped in a patch of grass a few feet away, downtrodden and heartbroken, saw that familiar glint of strength spark in the boy's eyes once more as the final few blows came and the group grew bored.

The stocky boy grimaced at the sight of him afterwards, all bloody lipped and glasses a skewed. "See if you can make it home in time for lights out, wartface."

His blond companion snorted as he wiped the sweaty fringe from out of his eyes, "Yeah, I'll even wait up to watch you crawl home, Potter."

Harry froze at the realisation of this unknown boy having just spat his surname, whilst the rest of group traipsed away, looking back only once or twice to remind themselves of the cause to their raucous laughter.

Potter.

His gaze darted back to the wounded boy when a low groan was heard, and he silently observed the child that slowly pulled himself back together with little to no stress. Harry had to give it to him, the kid was an obvious fighter.

But still, the name lingered. Even as the boy stumbled to his feet.

He was a sight to see, covered in grainy dirt and bright streaking blood, the latter dripped down over his face from his leaking nose, as well as his injured forearm.

Harry's heart lodged in his throat when the boy looked up at him from wiping himself down, for a moment he almost thought that he'd been spotted, but the child merely took a deep breath and began to limp off in the direction the others had wandered off in.

Gods, Harry thought to himself as he willed his erratic pulse to calm and his stomach to stop churning, it had almost felt as though he'd been looking into his very own soul when their eyes had connected. But that, that was-

Impossible! Harry wanted to say, but instead released a heavy sigh as he shook his head. That was exactly what Merlin had intended to show him. His life at number 4. What could have been...

As the realisation dawned on him, it didn't take too long for his body to be pulled back through that loop again. And this time he watched through new eyes as he jumped from one what if to another. In every scene that played out, Harry witnessed the berating and bullying of a child that lived a life only to serve.

The boy- because Harry could not for the life of him claim that small, defenceless child as himself, to see his own self abused in such a way, with no way out, no help or aid- was forced to complete draining chores, tasks that most adults would struggle to complete; to starve and to be beaten on a daily occurrence; ridiculed and tormented by elders that should have protected him, should have allowed him to keep the innocence every child is gifted and wholeheartedly deserved. It was sickening. And by the end, Harry didn't know how he would ever sleep again, knowing that this could have been his life and he would have never known any better, understanding that this was happening to many more children out there across the globe- some even fearing much worse.

Harry needed a minute when he came to, to force down the acidic bile which had risen in his throat. Merlin joined him once he had taken perch against a nearby garden wall, steely eyes fixed on the house of number 4 which looked far too normal but was anything but.

"I know there are no words that can be said, Harry, to take back what I have shown you." Merlin said, his voice grave and drawn, "but I believed it was in your best interest to know. So that you are able to comprehend exactly what sort of games you are falling into here. Who's hands you may be holding in the near future, and what cards they may hide and hold."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded just the once.

Merlin was quiet for a few long pauses before he spoke again.

"My magic, Harry, you have to understand is sentient. I may not be a seer or have the gift of all-knowing knowledge, but I trust in the fates and the fae to guide me. These memories are what they showed me all those years ago, on the night you conquered death itself. And today I still stand by the decision I made, but know that it has and will continue to change the future of the Wizarding World itself. That my choice came with a price. You are not just anybody, child. And as much as you may dislike what I am about to say, you too are vital in the waging of this war."

He took a breath and shuffled, enough so that Harry found himself looking into Merlin's intelligent eyes.

"Though I tell you this now, know that the life you lead is yours, and yours alone. I will not attempt to waylay you into decisions, and I hope that you do not allow others to hold the power to that great advantage over you in the coming of days. You are a strong-minded young man, Harry Potter. One who is destined for great things, in this world or whichever path you may choose. I only wish you immense happiness, my dear. For that is what I believe you truly deserve."

—

An hour must have passed before things started to actually occur.

Harry hadn't wanted to stick around the Dursley's residence long enough to actually catch sight of the spiteful creatures that would have been deemed his carers, and so Merlin had led them on a bit of an excursion through the quiet village in Surrey. Together they determined what Harry wanted to do next, if he wanted to reenter the Wizarding World and take back his name, or embark on a new journey altogether, one where his past would no longer determine which path he could choose next.

To be truthful, it hadn't been a very hard choice.

After having seen the horrors of what would have been his life if it had been left up to the dubious headmaster of the current Hogwarts, Harry knew that he had to return- even if it was just out of spite. He wanted Albus Dumbledore, and all of those who claimed that they knew the true Harry Potter, their supposed 'saviour', to see him for what he truly was. Human. Magic or not. He would not be their soldier, their martyr, their pig to slaughter. He would win this damned war, not for the sake of them and their ideals, but for all the children of both the Wizarding and Muggle world. The innocents.

Merlin didn't have the ability to stick around long enough to join him on his journey to London- that plus the fact that he was Ermys himself, and even in the muggle side of the city he would have rather stuck out like a sore thumb. But Harry didn't mind all that much, even if it meant another teary eyed goodbye.

The great wizard, before he departed, had made sure to remind him of everything he might need to do upon arriving in the capital and recalled many of the lessons they had shared together over recent years in hopes that Harry wouldn't muddle things up too bad. But with, what Salazar had already labelled as his 'Potter Luck', Harry didn't have too high of hopes.

Still, even with the obvious reminders and added heeds, Harry felt his heart clench at the sight of the man apparating away. There, and then gone.

He was on his own now, it appeared. No one else to blame for any of the mistakes he was bound to make sooner or later. Just him, how it was always supposed to be.

Before Harry could dive too deeply into his grief, he straightened himself out and took a much needed deep breath, holding his wand out like Merlin had instructed him to do upon his departure. He figured he would have time to mourn his previous life- as well as the poor excuse for a life he had just witnessed- once he had finally gotten his shit together.

It practically came out of nowhere, this tilting, three tiered machine of metal tagged the Knight Bus. It was a blinding shade of purple with a blaring horn, decorated with details of silver and black, and the upper decks jiggled back and forth like jelly usually would if it was being passed around. Harry's stomach swooped at the sight of it and he fought back a wince.

He was so entranced by the odd looking vehicle that he could not help his slight jump upon realising that there was a man stood before him.

"You gettin' on then, or what?" The man asked, rather rudely Harry noted. "I mean, you can stick around and wait for the sky to fall, by all means, but we've got places to be."

Harry fish mouthed for longer than he'd care to admit before he forced out a sentence.

"I'm hoping to get to London- Diagon Alley, if you know it?"

The man merely raised a brow in return before he leant back to peer further inside the oversized vehicle. "Oi, this lad wants to know if we can get him to Diagon Alley! Reckon you know where that is, Ern?"

A cue of muffled voices sounded from within, followed by a hearty laugh that the man himself joined in on before he turned back around to face Harry.

"I'll only ask you once more, kid. You gettin' on or not?"

"Um, I suppose so."

The man grinned at that and offered him up a hand which Harry cautiously took. He was pulled onto the bus's back step with a sturdy tug and then led through into a yellow lamp lit room full of beds. Yes, beds. One of which had already been inhabited.

As Harry took in the peculiar surroundings, watching a glittering chandelier sway above them, he overheard the man start up a conversation with someone further up front, he returned a second later wearing a mocking smile.

"Seems in my 'aste to get goin' that I forgot to get you listen to the usual run of the mill speech." He said nonchalantly, "Company policy and all that."

Harry truly struggled not to let his emotions show on his face, and he was usually a pro at that, having lived with two talented legilimens his entire life.

The man didn't really seem to care for a reaction though as he swiftly pulled out a thin line of paper and begun to read off of it.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evenin'."

And with that seemingly over, he tucked the folded paper back into the breast pocket of his purple suit jacket. But it seemed Stan wasn't done there, with a strong sniff, he toyed with the machine which hung from his neck and pulled off a flimsy ticket, handing it over with pointedly raised brows. He knocked on the window sat behind them both not even a moment later.

"Hop to it, Ern."

And Harry was surprised to hear the bobble headed man with long dreads, hanging from the ceiling beside the driver, mimic him.

"Yeah, hop to it, Ernie!"

They were off a second later, and the sharp tug of the bus's engine sent Harry propelling backwards.

The beds were swinging to and fro, the linens which lined them fluttered at the speed of the vehicle, but the woman stationed further down did not seem to stir from her deep slumber, merely shifted from her back over onto her side as though nothing was awry.

Aimlessly, Harry reached for anything to steady himself: a nearby handle, a beds metal frame, but he didn't dare touch the conductor himself, who looked to be perfectly content and eyeing him with a certain degree of curiosity.

"What did you say your name was again?" Stan queried, his finger passed from his lips to point at Harry's unstable stance then wound itself back into a clasped gesture over his ticket machine.

Harry wobbled, hands gripped around the nearest pole, as he replied, "I didn't."

Stan's brow deepened but then he smirked, "Why's a young lad like you headed out to London all on his lonesome then?"

Harry retorted after a derisive snort, voice raised slightly to be heard over the incessant squeaking which had since started up. "Awful lot of questions for a conductor."

The man didn't seem to take any offence to his lack of an actual answer, instead he chuckled and turned back to the window, "Did you lot hear that?"

"Man, a funny one he is!" The bobbing head laughed, prolonging his vowels with his thick, heavy accent. "Too many questions- for a conductor!"

Stan rolled his eyes but did not choose to dampen his smirk. Together, he and Harry, watched the driver, an elderly gent with enormous spectacle covered eyes and a balding head, steer his way through the many back lanes of the countryside before they rapidly emerged out onto more populated streets.

With a firm grip on his handle, Harry's gaze skirted towards the passenger windows to glance out at the growing city, but it was no use, the bus was going so fast that the only thing he was able to see was a wad of colours and dancing lights.

"What about the muggles?" Harry piped up, "Do they not have the ability to see us?"

Stan gifted him a loud and sharp laugh, "The muggles, he asks! They don't ever see nothin', do they?"

The lone head bellowed too, "Not even if you dressed up pigs and had them fly!"

Harry conjured up a small amused smile at that but his attention was soon caught by the growing mass up ahead. He opened his mouth to warn the driver, but he was beaten to the punch.

"Watch out, Ern!" The dangling head announced, "Ickle kiddies at twelve o'clock!"

The driver hardly even reacted, simply played with a variety of buttons and levers on the front console, and so Harry feared that he might not have the capability to get the bus to stop in time.

His eyes were as wide as saucers by the time the vehicle had finally managed to slow to an abrupt but squeaky halt, only just missing the rowdy group of children by a fraction of a hair. Harry would have allowed himself a second to catch his breath, but it seemed all the wind had been knocked out of him the moment his body had splattered against the shielded window up front, used to separate the passengers from the driver.

"Oof." Came Stan's voice from over his shoulder, "Tough luck, kid."

Harry did his best to ignore the man as he hurried to find another handle to hold, the bobbing head had just started a countdown and they sat in wait for the children to pass them by.

"Five, four... t'ree and a half. T'ree and a quarter! Two. One and a half. Yes, yes! Go on, Ernie, go, go, go!"

The bus drove off the moment it could, winding its way down the city's roads, bypassing other buses and people in other oddly shaped vehicles. Harry could see specks of people flying by, all of them apparently unfazed by the appearance of a magical bus. He could only begin to guess that they must have been invisible to the untrained eye.

"Has anyone ever crashed this thing?"

Stan's head snapped up to answer him, "For legal purposes, I'm unable to respond to that. But, I'll 'ave you know, Ernie's the best driver we've had in centuries!"

Harry hummed noncommittally as his body was shoved into the nearest wall. He left the bobbing head to steer Stan back into a conversation, only listening halfheartedly to the topic of- tanningcreams?- whilst he tried his best to keep himself level footed.

Mere minutes must have passed before Harry was jolted from his safe position between the wall and the window, and sent flying sidewards into the closest bed. Thankfully it had been available, but seeing as it was him they were dealing with, it wasn't too much of a surprise to hear the unfortunate sound of a snap just as his body collided with the mattress.

The bus had seemingly come to a stop and so, deeming it safe, Harry's hand slowly moved towards his trouser pocket. To where, in his haste to stop himself from hurtling down the aisle of the moving bus, he had decided to store his wand.

He forced back the strangling urge to squeak at the very sight of it. It appeared that in the midst of him trying to shield his body from the oncoming attack, his wand had taken the majority of the hit and was now in complete tatters. Snapped clean in three separate places!

Harry flitted his gaze up towards the bus's ceiling and took a much needed deep breath, then hesitantly drew it back down to his broken wand. He winced.

Of course! Great Moirai, of course it would have been the very first day that he stepped foot back into the Wizarding world that he'd have his wand, of all things, give up on him! Talk about bad omens.

Sure, it had been no secret that he wasn't all that fond of the function the wand was purposed for- he still very much preferred his wandless magic to the stick- but even so. It had been gifted to him by the founders and Merlin themselves, it held a certain level of sentiment.

"Don't fret over it, lad." Stan, who was now towering above him, attempted to reassure, "You wouldn't be the first wizard. Trust me- just last week some oddpot ended up sittin' on his toad in that seat just there."

The conductor pivoted to call out over his shoulder.

"How long did it take you to get that stain out, Ernie?" But received no real reply.

Harry looked back at Stan with an expression of both disgust and discomfort, but the other man either didn't seem to notice nor care.

"Well, come on now, off you get!" Stan cajoled, "What are you waiting for? The Leaky Cauldron, that's in London, at your disposal. As promised!"

Harry frowned as he was steered back towards where he had entered the bus. "But I requested that you take me to Diagon Alley."

Stan waved his worries away, "Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant! The Leaky Cauldron will take you from here, lad. Don't worry about it."

"But-"

Harry's attempt to sway the man failed as he was all but shoved off the back of the bus and into the bustling crowd of London.

Stan grinned down at him from the backstep of the bus and as Harry struggled to keep himself on his feet, he had no choice but to watch the conductor wave him farewell as the vehicle's horn blared and pulled away. The only sign it left behind was a smoggy cloud of smoke which had fired from the exhaust.

Blinking, Harry fought to get his bearings.

He pivoted slowly but was mainly ignored by the people who passed him by, apart from the odd grunt or unhappy sidestepper.

The bus had decidedly dropped him off outside of a run-down tavern sat strangely between two thriving businesses. It wasn't much to look at, with its blackened windows and peeling paint, but no one else seemed to pay it any mind.

The Leaky Couldron, read the pub's old wearing sign.

Harry recalled Stan having just called their destination the very same thing. He'd also mentioned that it would get him to where he really needed to go which was Diagon Alley.

So, steeling himself, Harry glided through the moving crowd with little ease and over to where the taverns door stood. He only second guessed himself the once before he decided to just try his luck at the handle.

And he was thankful that he had. Stepping inside, he felt a flurry of magic flutter through him, warming his veins. He glanced about, behind the ugly storefront sat a lively bar so full of patrons and people alike, some wearing hats and grand robes, others in more modern dress.

Harry wandered in, soaking up the atmosphere as he travelled over towards the main bar, to where a man was perched cleaning empty glasses and serving a woman with a hooked nose.

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from wandering across the room. In the far back was a set of stairs that led upwards somewhere; wooden tables and chairs littered the space, most of them occupied by families or small groups of friends; animals, or pets it would seem, meandered freely, owls hooting and cats purring as loudly as they pleased; everyone seemed to be none the wiser to his sudden appearance and he watched as their gazes glossed over him with no recognition at all.

"What can I get for you, lad?"

Harry turned back to the bar upon hearing the voice and was met with the barman, an older gent who's smile seemed genuine and paired well with his reddened nose.

"I was hoping to get to Diagon Alley, an acquaintance mentioned that someone here might be able to aid me?"

The man nodded at him and placed the pint glass he held down, "They would be quite right, why don't you follow me out back."

He didn't give Harry much of a chance to even think of declining his offer as the barman waddled out from behind the counter and over to a set of rickety doors. He gestured merrily as Harry wearily approached and stepped out into a cobbled area which could have been used as a small outdoor seating area, or even a quaint garden.

Harry was only a little perturbed when the gent paused in front of an old brick wall, but made no comment about the barman's sanity- knowing magic, this bland wall held more secrets than most.

He turned out to be correct. The man couldn't seem to help his joyful grin as he pulled out his wand and tapped away at the bricks. Harry made sure to dutifully note which.

Then, within seconds, the bricks begun to move. They danced back and forth, sliding over one another in a diligent sequence, before spinning outwards, left and right, to build an archway for them.

Harry swallowed at the sight that found him.

"And here you are!" The barman bellowed, and Harry was sure that he heard the slightest bit of awe waver the man's voice, "Diagon Alley in all its glory."

"Wow." Harry breathed as he took it all in.

He was certain that his face was one to behold as he stared out at the street of wizards and witches, both young and old, all who looked too pleased to be shopping within the alley's magical wards.

When Harry turned back to thank the barman, all he'd been left with was the sight of the old tavern door closing behind a figure.

He would have to show his gratitude later, because now, it seemed, he had some work to do.

Recalling what Merlin had mentioned during the lead up to his departure, Harry found himself walking further into the alley, past the many shopfronts which sold an array of items and displayed many ever-changing posters. Harry decided, it wasn't all that different to the growing city he had visited a week (or rather, a century) prior with Sal. Even so, simply walking across the cobblestones was an experience in itself.

Harry's perusing was cut short upon having noticed a rallying group of people crowding together not much further ahead, just within a larger area of the alley where a handful of wizards and witches alike stood on an impressive but makeshift stage.

He paused on the outskirts and nodded his thanks to a boy slightly younger than him, who was handing out flyers.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the gathering was due to the upcoming elections within the ministry. It appeared that these witches and wizards were all in the running for the minister position itself.

Harry hummed curiously under his breath as he looked up to scour the rest of the crowd, the political climate was something he would definitely be looking more into before he was due to head off to school in September. He only had a month, but that was more than enough time to prepare, to work out where his allegiances aligned.

"We, as a community, have been subjected to the lies and deceit our corrupt ministry has fed us for far too long." Sounded a strong voice above the crowing of the crowd- it held conviction, power, and had Harry's ears perking instantly.

"This is a time where we must to bind together, show some commodity, how much we value our neighbours, our friends, other magical beings. For we all should stand as one."

Harry looked up towards the stage in search of the voice's owner, but found his eye line to be obscured by a show of applauding hands held high.

"The Wizarding War ended at the demise of a fool who believed himself to be better than all- a war which ended almost fifteen years ago!" The voice continued, and Harry struggled to keep to the outskirts of it all.

He attempted to back away to get a better look at the stage, but the hooting crowd was determined to sweep him up in their applause.

"And yet, nothing has changed! We are running on mere luck alone that some other deranged individual, with a thirst for greed and for great power, hasn't taken advantage of these weaknesses. Of our inability to grow and change."

Harry caught a break in the next cheer and slipped through a small opening just big enough to escape the rally. He gazed back in the direction of the stage and was surprised to find a man, only a few years his senior, standing proudly on the platform, staring out at the gathered crowd.

"We need to start anew. Think up new possibilities, new legislations! We need someone with an understanding of how a ministry should work." The man claimed, his eyes, even from afar, were sharp and so full of intent. Harry selfishly wished that they would find his own amongst the masses, he wanted to delve deeper into this man's mind, to seek out his true values, the knowledge he held.

It actually proved rather difficult to pull his gaze away.

"I am with you. I stand beside you. Together, I believe we can restore the magical world to its former glory."

The masses cheered at that and Harry found himself watching as the man nodded his gratitude back to them, and even though he wore no smile, showed no affection, the crowd seemed to liven at the simple gesture.

Harry was only able to tear himself further from the horde once the man had finally descended the steps and slipped into a smaller group stationed beside the stage. Once he had lost sight of the speaker altogether, he ducked and weaved away from the chatter altogether.

Merlin hadn't mentioned any elections, though Harry loathed to admit that many who knew the man understood that he wasn't all that fond of politics- or rules in general, if he was being quite honest. But still, this felt far too important to have brushed over.

So with a mind so full of new thoughts, Harry continued on, headed in the direction he had first decided would be the best place for him to start.

Gringotts Bank.