The Mindfuckening
25 August, 1994
Roanapur
Lagoon Company City Office
8:41 A.M.
Smiling in the morning light, Harry walking into the Lagoon Company's office to see Rock going over some paperwork. The radio was playing something poppy in Thai, but was otherwise empty.
"Morning Harry," Rock said, smiling as his eyes darted up briefly. "How has your week been?"
"Pretty good," Harry replied, taking a seat. "I think I like fiddling with RC cars. How are you guys doing?"
Rock sighed, leaning back and away from all of the paperwork. "Pretty good. Dutch is out collecting the pay from the Ripoff Church for both the run and the repairs to the dock. No, the fact that you fixed it is immaterial," Rock continued, interrupting Harry, "because Eda saw the whole thing and reported it to Sister Yolanda. Thanks to you, we're pretty heavily in the black."
"Well, that's good, I guess," Harry hedged out.
"Seriously, a good, simple job thanks to you, followed by getting the cash to rebuild and not having to? Definitely a good thing, Harry. And Yolanda understands how weird stuff happens. Either way, the money to rebuild was always part of the expenses portion of the contract. It just happened to fall our way.
"So, apart from the new hobby, anything interesting happen?"
Harry smiled, stretching a little. "Did a little haggling for materials for a project that I'm researching. Made some new friends. Got my mail out of the way. Turns out one of my friends is having troubles; I'm waiting on him to give me a call. More night time wanderings for food. It's been a quiet week. Although I expect that to end this afternoon; I'm seeing a new therapist at two."
Rock frowned a little at that. "What happened to the first one?"
"My situation isn't in his specialty," Harry explained, shrugging. "So he referred me to a guy named Hawthorne."
"Sam Hawthorne?" Harry nodded. "I know him. Well, better to say that Revy knows him. He's an absolute genius, the kind that makes Einstein look stupid. Revy and Dutch go to him when they need custom parts made for the Lagoon, or when Priyachat or the Ripoff Church can't hook us up with weapons and gear that we need for a job."
Harry quirked his mouth at that, asking, "If he's that smart, what is he doing in Roanapur?"
"I have no idea. Revy asked him once, and he said something about a customer needing him here. Of course," Rock continued with a chuckle, "Revy hates going there. Apparently Revy and his girlfriend don't get along."
"Revy doesn't get along with most people, Rock."
"Yeah, but apparently she really hates Hawthorne's girlfriend. She won't talk about it, but I'm willing to bet that Revy picked a fight with her and lost."
The door slammed open, and Revy strode in, saying, "Harry, you're coming with me! It's time you learned how to fucking drive!"
Grunting, Harry had little choice but to follow as Revy dragged him out by his arm, almost tossing him at Benny's 1965 Pontiac GTO. "What the fuck, Revy?" Harry demanded after bouncing off of the driver's door.
Revy crossed her arms, sighing out, "Look, this is a 'thank you' from Dutch and me, okay? You did stupidly right by us, and we're in your debt. And Dutch hates being in debt to someone. So we're repaying you by teaching you how to fucking drive, and putting you on our Bribery Policy to Watsup so you can openly carry a pistol." She raised a hand at Harry opening his mouth to object, saying, "Shut the fuck up, Harry. You and me both know you did it because it was the right thing to do, right? Well this sort of behavior can get ugly fast in Roanapur. Debts are always paid here, no matter what. So this is us thanking you for rebuilding the docks."
"Umm, you're welcome, I guess," Harry replied hesitantly. "Wait, I never see you driving. It's always Rock or Benny."
Revy grimaced at the comment. "Yeah, well, I'm not allowed to drive anymore after what I did to the Superbee. Even Chief Watsup backed me losing my license. But! I can still teach you. You might be British, but everyone needs to know how to fucking drive."
Five hours of frantic driving instruction followed. Harry learned several things that morning. Driving a car was nothing like flying a broom. Revy was a very patient instructor, but was extremely mouthy to other drivers occupying space on 'her' road. Lastly, Harry learned that Revy had a lot of people who didn't like her.
The last ninety minutes of Harry driving involved Revy hanging out the passenger window, returning fire at someone in a beige car following them. Harry gritted his teeth, slaloming the GTO through traffic, around tight corners, and through alleyways until they lost their tail. He could feel his skill improving under the extreme driving, and wondered if Revy had been banned from driving because she could drive, swear, and fire her pistols all at once.
From there, Benny dropped Harry off at what looked to be a mechanic's garage. Walking in, Harry saw engines on hoists, car bodies in various states of reconstruction, and a massive military vehicle on jacks.
A man wearing an oil-stained jumpsuit walked up to him, wiping his hands clean on a rag. Harry idly noticed that the patch over the left breast read 'Cordovega, P. USA G-10' "You Harry Potter?" Harry nodded. "Sam Hawthorne. I'd shake your hand, but my hands are covered in parts degreaser. Come on over to the engines and grab a stool."
Harry did, as the man wheeled over a crimson toolbox and began laying out wrenches. "So, Moore gave me the recording of your session with him. Don't be shocked, most therapists record their sessions to go over the footage in case they missed something," Hawthorne explained. "And it saves us a lot of time getting started. You have any questions before we begin?"
"Yes, what are your qualifications?" Harry asked.
"Well, I specialize in Submerged Trauma, Multiple Personality Disorder, Schizophrenia, and all fields of Aberrant Sexuality. I'm a polymath, and my fields cross heavily into philosophy, sociology, and high-energy physics. Occasionally I get to cross my knowledge of magic with stuff, but not often."
Harry blinked at the admission from the man who looked to be in his early 20s. Tall, sandy blonde hair, with a lean, runner's build. Handsome, but with oil stained hands and a relaxed body language. "That sounds extensive. So yeah, let's get started."
"Where do you want to begin?" Hawthorne asked as he pulled a gasket cover off of an engine.
"Well, you know about the school stuff, and Yamatai. I don't know that there's really much more to tell, you know? I'm just trying to figure out why I'm not more bothered about Yamatai than I am."
"Hmm," was the response, as several valve springs were removed. "Well, let's talk about how you grew up."
Harry sighed at that. "Fine. I hate talking about it but okay. I grew up on Privet Drive, in Surrey..."
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Revy staggered up to the apartment building, only lightly drunk. It was close to ten at night, and teaching Harry how to drive had been rewarding, but exhausting. People just didn't realize how tiring it was to be that angry at stupid people. Looking up, she saw that the building was mostly dark, with only one light on. Harry's light. Noting that Harry was usually out prowling the food stalls at this time of night, she shuffled up the stair and knocked on his door.
The door unlocked, and as it swung open, Revy could see Harry on the balcony, his wand in hand in mid-swish. Stumbling in (and noting the lack of lived-in appearance), she closed the door behind her and approached the balcony. "Harry? You okay?" she asked with only a slight slurring of her voice.
Nope," was the instant response. Her sharp eyes took in the scene. Harry was sitting on the concrete floor of the balcony, his back to the glass of one of the sliding doors. His wand was in his right hand, and a large pistol on the floor next to him. His eyes were dull, as if he'd entered a calm state after crying. "Have a seat if you want."
Revy plopped herself down, her back against the railing as she fished out her cigarettes. "So what's eating you?" she quietly asked.
"Session with Hawthorne," Harry dully admitted. "He knew about the school stuff and Yamatai from my session with Moore. We got to talking about how I was raised."
Revy inwardly cringed, flashes of her own upbringing bubbling up from the depths of her memory. "How bad?" she bluntly asked.
Harry sighed at the question. "Periods of starvation. Locked in my room for freakishness, basically accidental magic, doing better than my cousin on tests, not finishing all the yardwork in a day. Some beating with a belt, but not too often, never anywhere visible while dressed. Verbal and emotional abuse. Hawthorne said that it was no small miracle that I came out of that not hateful as hell or a broken shell shambling through life." Revy nodded at that, puffing on her cigarette. "He also made the observation that it seemed engineered. Like, my parents were dead, and I was placed with magic haters? Slipshard mentioned that since the Potters were such an old family, there should've been no end of magical relatives around, even with the war." Revy nodded at that as well.
"And then I get back to the magical world, and people instantly recognize me. Growing up, wizards on the street recognized me, bowed to me. I mean, what the fuck did I know, right? I was eleven, a giant brought me into Magical London, and everything is so awesome. And then I get to Hogwarts, and everything's magical. It's like a refuge, a true home. But then it was back to the Dursleys at the end of the school year to be locked in Dudley's second bedroom, and my trunk locked in the cupboard under the stairs, my old room. Why? Why the hell did I keep having to go back? It just beggars imagination."
"I get you," Revy quietly admitted. "Can you keep a secret?" Harry nodded. "I grew up in New York City. My mom died in childbirth, and my dad was a drunk deadbeat. We were poor as hell, sometimes my only meal was the school lunch. Dad was an absolute fucking bastard, constantly belittling me, beating me when he got too drunk, and... and so on. When I was fifteen, my dad got into a really nasty mood, so I ran. Ran like hell. He reported me as a runaway, and the cops dragged me in to the precinct house. They.... It was bad," she admitted with a shudder. "And then my old man comes by, not giving a fuck that I had a black eye and a cop's jizz leaking out of my cunt. Two hours later, I pull a Godfather. Wrapped a revolver in a pillow and dropped three rounds into his fucking heart. God, I can still see the fucking feathers from the pillow sometimes."
Lighting another cigarette, she continued with, "I've done time, broke out of prison and ended up here. The big secret, Harry, is that I hate this fucking city. I hate who I had to become to survive. I project this big 'bad girl' bullshit, but that's all it is. Roanapur collects us, you know? Broken people who were cast from the Garden of Eden. I never saw the world as anything but a fucking pit of shit, waiting to swallow up wide-eyed innocents to break them.
"And then people like Rock show up," she snarled out. "Not broken, not cast out. 'Proof' that the world isn't fucked. Except that that was a lie too, wasn't it? Practically tossed out by by family for not being magic. Fucking bastards," she huffed, flicking the spent butt out over the railing.
Harry huffed in a trace of humor at that. "We're a pair, huh? Two broken, abused people in the City of Broken Dreams."
"And then you pop up," Revy continued. "Wide-eyed, but wary. Battle scarred, but still with ideals and morals. You don't realize the confusion that you're kicking up, Harry. You're rich, but don't act rich. You're a tourist, but blend in like you've lived here as long as me. You're making connections to important people, but you treat them like they have more value than what they can get you. You got people talking about you, Harry. Normally that's a prelude to getting assraped with a RPG, but they're looking at you like someone they might be able to respect!"
Moving forward, Revy slid the pistol by Harry's leg to the side, leaning against the wall next to the door that Harry was leaning against. Side by side, she continued with, "Harry, you're a good guy. As much as I like having you here, you need to get the fuck out of Roanapur before she gets her claws in you too far. So, what's the gun about?" she asked, changing the subject.
"It just seemed right," Harry admitted as he leaned in, Revy's arm going over his shoulder. "I've been up here for a couple of hours just trying to make sense of it all. Even Salim has nothing. So I sat here, brain all tangled up, with a gun at my side and my wand in my hand."
"You weren't..."
"No, nothing like that," Harry admitted. "The chamber's empty. And yeah, I'll leave Roanapur when I can, but I kinda like it here. No abusive assholes, no blood-status bigots, no bullshit. It's like Roanapur is the most honest city in the world. The world sucks, it's going to shit all over you, and here's the living proof, all wrapped up in one city. Like you said, it's a city that collects the broken. But I think that we ended up here because it's for people like us. You go out there, knowing you're going to get fucked over, knowing that nobody is on your side. And you're right. And the city knows you're right. Shit, I'm rambling," Harry admitted, rubbing his temple with a thumb.
"I get what you mean, Harry. Although you have us on your side. Benny and Dutch, they're pretty normal. Rock too. But you and me, we're the fucked up ones." Revy paused, internally debating the idea that popped up in her head. "Hey, Harry? Since we're both broken, wanna be siblings?"
Harry thought about that for a long moment before a smile slowly crawled up onto his face. "You know, I think I'd like that. Big Sister Revy. I already see Lara as a kind of sister. Hell, if my parents' will had come up earlier, would would've been raised like siblings."
The next morning, Revy woke up to a relatively cool room. Blearily coming to, she noted that she couldn't be in her apartment; she'd shot up the air conditioner months ago when she was coming out of a nightmare. Blinking, she felt a soft pressure on her belly. Looking down, she saw that she was still dressed in her sports bra and panties, and Harry's head was on her stomach, using her as a pillow. Harry himself was in a pair of shorts.
Shifting slightly, she could tell that she and Harry hadn't done anything sexual. As her memories slowly filtered up out of sleep, she noted that they'd talked a bit more, and then she demanded that he get some sleep, and that she'd be there for him. Apparently, that had led to this entirely platonic cuddle. Slowly slipping out, she hit the bathroom, got dressed, and quietly left Harry's apartment, locking the door behind her.
For the next few days, Harry got back into his groove. Mind diving for a couple of hours each day (Tom and Himiko had some crazy skills and knowledge), working at the clinic, hanging out with Shenhua and Sawyer (Lotton was out of town on a job), and working his way through more of Roanapur's food stalls, this time accompanied by Revy.
30 August, 1994
Roanapur, Beach
8:15 A.M.
As was Harry's habit, he was once more on the beautiful stretch of beach just off of the Lagoon docks. The fire ring filled, pork on skewers roasting even as he prepared his noodles, vegetables, and rice. Not far, three women in bikinis were playing in the surf, and Harry casually appreciated their beauty. One was white, with very pale hair, one was chocolate brown, and the last was Japanese. All three were exquisitely built, and clearly friends as they laughed, joked, and splashed each other.
The Japanese one jogged over to where Harry was set up. "Excuse, please," she began in jagged english, "but we may join? We dry off fire?"
"Sure," Harry said, nodding. Smiling brightly, she summoned her friends over. They spread out beach towels, reveling in the warmth of the crackling fire heating their wet, somewhat chill skin. "I'm Harry."
"Urara," replied the girl who'd asked for permission.
"Zara," replied the dark one in a portugese accent.
"Eva," replied the white haired girl in a russian accent.
"So what do you ladies do here in town?" Harry asked, posting more skewers of seasoned pork over the fire.
The three conversed in russian before Eva said, "Apologies, but my english is best. Do you mind if I translate?" Harry shrugged, adding more cherry wood. "Urara works in Club Orion as a stripper and hostess. Zara works as a prostitute for Madame Flora, above the Yellow Flag, I work at the the GoofFest, owned by 'Jackpot' Rowan as a dancer and live bondage show actress. What about you?"
Harry blinked at the absolute casualness of the three admitting that they were sex workers. But he mentally shrugged, saying, "I was in a shipwreck a few weeks ago and ended up here. I worked out a deal with the Lagoon Company, and I've been working with Doctor Gurrimurra a few days a week."
"Ah, you one seen with Shenhua," Urara commented, giggling. "Many say you she together. Other say you, she, Cleaner together. Which is?"
Harry blinked, translating that in his head. "Ah, none of it's true. We met a week ago, along with Lotton. We're just friends."
Zara sighed longingly. "Lotton. Cute, good with words, and knows how to accessorize," she said slowly, as if translating in her head. "Many girls wish he was a club host."
"Want to hear a secret?" Harry asked, smirking a little. All three nodded, before Harry said, "Lotton is allergic to alcohol, and doesn't do well with crowds. He's a 'quiet evening with friends' sort of guy. But yeah, we're just friends."
The three looked at each other before Zara said something in portuguese, sending all three into giggles. The four continued to talk throughout the morning until the girls had to go.
Harry had learned that they were all fifteen, all from different corners of the Earth, and had met through the sex worker network in Roanapur. From that day, Harry added a new portion to his daily routine. Hanging out with the three girls was fun, and he often had one to himself because of their conflicting schedules.
Eva preferred going to the movies with Harry, and had insisted they go once she learned that Harry had never seen Star Wars. Urara preferred to go dancing in the clubs, and Harry just got swept up into her orbit. He ended up figuring out club dancing the hard way. Zara was a regular acompaniment on his evening jaunts to food stalls. She also knew the city the best of the three, and was able to tell Harry where to get what, ans what areas to avoid and why.