Chapter Text
Harry awoke in an unfamiliar place, his clothes damp and his wand nowhere to be found. He was laying on his back in a body of water, the sounds around him muffled with his head halfway submerged. He fumbled around, his hand slapping water as he felt for something. Anything.
His hand closed over something smooth, small, and cold. He lifted it up to look at it, hearing a slurping noise as he pulled it free from the mud.
Harry sat up and felt the water dripping off of him. He pushed his glasses up as he looked down at the object in his hand. It was covered in mud still, so he dunked it into the water and shook it to dislodge the extra debris. When he lifted it back up, it appeared to be nothing more than an old perfume bottle. The only thing inside it was some of the water that’d seeped in. He turned it over in his hands, wondering if it had some sort of significance, but it just looked like an ordinary old bottle.
This must’ve been the Portkey that the death eater had activated during the battle. The one in the Department of Ministries. Harry wracked his memory as he tried to recall what had happened. The last thing he remembered was someone knocking over the Time-Turners. He and Sirius had been together and he’d looked around at everyone. Then one of the death eaters, though he couldn’t be sure who, had cast the Portus spell on an object. He’d tried to stop them, knowing that they were trying to escape. He’d grabbed for the Portkey and then he’d ended up… here. Wherever here was.
It didn’t matter where he was. He just needed to get back home. He looked down at the Portkey in his hands. It was simple, really. He’d just go back the way he came. This one had to be touch activated, didn’t it? If he threw it up into the air and caught it again, that would count as touching it, right?
Harry threw the Portkey up and caught it. He closed his eyes, ready for that nauseous, sick feeling that always came with Portkey travel. But it never came.
He peeked an eye open, looking down at the bottle in his hands. If not touch-activated, it must’ve been a timed one. That didn’t bode well. It might not ever activate again and, without his wand, there was no way he could re-enchant it. Given this new information, he decided to look around the area and see if he could get a feel for where he was. The least he could do was try and find a way back home by foot. He’d lived in the muggle world long enough that he had some idea of how he could get back home.
Tall trees like none he’d ever seen before loomed high around him. They grew straight out of the shallow water with thick trunks and leafy branches. The water that he was currently sat in was muddy and dark. Moss covered the nearby plants and algae squelched under Harry’s feet when he stood.
His feet were sinking into the mud. His socks were waterlogged and he was grateful for the sun high above. If it hadn’t been so nice and warm, he’d have frozen half to death with the water drenching his clothes. He trudged around the swamp, being careful not to fall into any of the many holes in the bottom of the lake.
The land was nearby and covered in tall grasses, so Harry headed that way. Once he got there, he noticed that even the dirt in this new place was odd. It was more like sand with the way it stuck grainily to the bottoms and sides of his shoes. He paid it no mind. He just needed to find somewhere to sit and rest while he thought over what his next steps would be.
Eventually making it out of the tall grasses and still finding himself in unfamiliar territory, Harry chose to walk in a random direction. He had no clue where he might be headed or even where on Earth he was. But it was a good distraction to walk somewhere. He didn’t want to think about what had happened during the fight. Didn’t want to worry about what might be happening now that he was gone. Blows had been exchanged and the light of it all still flashed before Harry’s eyes when he closed them.
There was nothing he could do but wait, though. Not without his wand, at least. He wished desperately now that he was more like Hermione. She would’ve had no problem whipping up a spell of some sort without a wand. No problem with making a new Portkey. It wasn’t that Harry couldn’t do wandless magic, but more that he didn’t trust his abilities to make a Portkey without a wand. He’d end up in Antarctica with his luck.
Time seemed to pass slower than usual as Harry trekked across this unfamiliar landscape. His hand kept drifting into his pocket to check and make sure the Portkey was still there. It never moved. Never left his pocket. But he still couldn’t help checking. It didn’t mean much, really, but it was the only thing tying him back to that battle; the one he’d been so violently ripped from.
The sun was already starting to set. Harry was mostly dry by this point, his socks still squelching in his shoes a bit. He could feel the grit of the dry, caked-on dirt on his skin. It had dried on him as the swamp water evaporated. He took a moment to try and brush off the bits still clinging to him, but it was a fruitless effort. Everything clung to him one way or another. His clothes were stiff with dried debris and he decided to just accept it with a sigh. He could only do so much.
He hoped he could find civilization soon. The death eater wouldn’t have made a Portkey to the middle of nowhere, after all. There had to be something around here. Whatever it was, Harry would find it. Then he’d make his way to a train station or something of the like and find his way back to Hogwarts. He could only hope the Order of the Phoenix was holding things together without him.
Just as Harry thought it, as if summoned by his thoughts, a road appeared. A dirt road, mind you, but a road nonetheless. Harry nearly skipped in joy over to the road. His feet were aching at this point but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that. He was too excited to find proof that there was someone living nearby. He followed the road until the sun was starting to set. Orange rays of light cast everything in a warm amber glow. As beautiful as it was, it also meant that Harry would soon be walking in the dark.
He tried to hurry his steps, but his legs hurt from all the walking and he was still irritated by the dirt stuck to him. His toes were itching from his wet socks. He debated taking off his socks and shoes but decided that the protection they provided was more important than the irritation they caused.
Harry was just about ready to give up and collapse into a snoring pile in the dirt. He’d had a very, very long day already. This mishap didn’t help at all with that. Then he noticed something that made him reconsider his decision to sleep in the open. A light in the distance. No, scratch that. A collection of lights. Like a city.
Someone would have thought he was on fire with how fast he ran. Dirt kicked up in great clouds behind him as he sprinted. The light grew brighter, separating out and clarifying into hundreds of tiny lights. Harry was running out of breath. He was breathing in the clouds of dust and coughing. Yet he couldn’t care, not when the possibility of getting home was so close.
Then he was in the city. In the thick of it, standing on a cobbled road covered in dirt and sweat and looking wholly out of place. A horse-drawn carriage passed by him and he nodded at the driver as he stepped back from the street. Then he blinked once. Twice. A horse-drawn carriage…?
He looked around. Something was odd. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but something just wasn’t right. Now that he was really looking around, he noticed that the infrastructure here was similar to the wizarding world. Gas lamps lit up the streets as he walked down them. The roads were all paved with brick and stone. Or they were dirt roads packed down by hundreds of feet and countless carriage wheels. It stunk to high heaven with the stench of horse manure. And probably human excrement as well, if Harry was honest.
The further Harry walked into the city, the more people he saw. And the more confused he became. As much as this city looked like the wizarding world, the people here did not. They were all dressed in old-timey looking clothes. The women wore long dresses with scarves and shawls. The men looked dapper with tall hats and fitted coats. As he walked past them, they gave him odd stares. He looked out of place in his jacket and casual clothing.
Was there a costume party of some sort? Perhaps it was a city full of people who liked to dress in vintage outfits. Harry couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t too concerned about it either way. He needed to find a train station.
He looked around, locating the nearest gentleman and making a beeline for him.
“Excuse me, sir?” he inquired.
The man startled and looked up. “Yes? How can I help you, lad?”
Now it was Harry’s turn to be surprised because the man had an accent. An American accent. He shook off his shock, though. He had more important things to worry about. “Can you point me to the nearest train station?”
“You’re a bit lost, aren’t you? Must be new around here.”
“I am,” Harry hurried to say. He didn’t have time for this. Who knew what was happening back at the Department of Mysteries? He’d wasted enough time wandering around the wilderness today.
“Well, if you head down this street here and take a left, you should come upon it soon enough. You weren’t far off at all.”
Harry nodded at the man. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Do well not to get lost now.”
Harry bid him goodbye and started down the street in the direction he’d been instructed. He took a left where he’d been directed to and was immediately blown away by the sheer number of people milling about. Carriages clogged the road up ahead and people milled about in and around the streets. He’d heard the music as he approached, but now it was even louder. A humdrum of different noises as dozens of musicians played to outdoor diners sitting at restaurants.
He wove his way in between the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone but ending up unsuccessful. He had no doubt left more than a few people with dirt on their clothes. The stares of everyone bore into him as he forged a path forward.
The train station was visible up ahead now. He could even see the tracks behind it and he hurried to reach it.
He was panting hard when he got to the desk of the train station. The attendant gave him an odd look when he noticed the out-of-breath teenager in dirty clothes.
“I’d like one ticket to London please,” Harry informed him.
The attendant blinked at him once. Twice. “London.”
“Yes, London.”
“Never had someone ask to go to London before. Awfully small town.” The attendant shook off his shock and went back to getting the tickets Harry would need.
“I’m not sure ‘small’ would be the way to describe it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes a little at the whole interaction.
“London, Arkansas? The population there is scarcely two hundred people.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “London, Arkansas? Why the bloody hell do you think I want to go to the states?”
The attendant blinked at him again in that owlish manner. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sir, but you’re already in the states. It’s much easier to assume you’re headed for London, Arkansas than to assume you’re daft enough to think a train can take you over the Atlantic.”
“What?”
“Surely you must’ve come here by boat, sir. Your accent gives you away. Though I didn’t think you could seriously mean London, England.”
Harry gripped the edge of the counter, head spinning. He was in the States. Why- Why would the death eater make a Portkey here? He’d seen the signs. The American accents. The unfamiliar architecture. The odd landscape and everything else was a clear sign of where he was. But he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself and now he had no choice but to face the facts.
“Where exactly am I?” Harry asked.
The poor attendant was looking at him like he had said he wanted to go into the Forbidden Forest for fun. “Baton Rouge, Louisiana, of course.”
“And- And what is the date today?” He had to confirm his other suspicion. There was something all too wrong about this entire situation.
“June 18th, 1900.”
“1900…” Harry repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
He was light-headed. There must’ve been some mistake, some weird mind trick being played on him. It all made sense, though. The clothes. The gas lamps. The horse-drawn carriages and the people giving him weird looks as he walked about in his t-shirt and jeans.
How did this happen? Harry wracked his brain for an answer.
Then it struck him. The Time-Turners. It was the only reason something like this could’ve happened. And if it was because of the Time-Turners that he was stuck here, he would have no way home. He couldn’t time travel. Making a Portkey or trying to travel back to London would be useless because even if he did make it back there, there’d be nothing for him. The battle didn’t occur until 1996. At this point, he wouldn’t even live to see it.
And what if he showed up back in London and asked to use their Time-Turners? He’d be turned down for sure. He had no pull here, in this time. He wasn’t the boy who lived anymore. He was just a scared teen with nowhere to go and nothing he could do to save himself.
“Excuse me.” A voice behind him pulled his attention back to the present. He whirled around. A woman stood behind him, a puzzled expression on her face. “I need to buy a ticket, please.”
Harry nodded, stepping away from the counter and the confused attendant. He needed to think. Needed to figure out some way to get back home. Maybe he could explain to the Ministry of Magic what had happened. If he laid out everything clearly, there was a chance they’d believe him. There were ways for them to make sure he was telling the truth. He just had to get to London.
“That’ll be three dollars,” the attendant said behind him to the woman.
Harry froze. There was a problem he hadn’t considered. He had no money. There was no vault in the bank for him full of his parents’ money. His parents hadn’t even been born yet. How would he get back home?
This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
He headed back out onto the streets since he had nowhere else to go. The odd looks he received didn’t puzzle him anymore. He knew why people were looking at him like that. Of course he was out of place in his modern clothes. His accent certainly didn’t help him blend in either.
“Fortunes! Get your fortunes told here!” Someone was yelling on the side of the street.
“Take your voodoo back to New Orleans!” A passerby jabbed back with a loud laugh.
Harry looked over with bored indifference. He didn’t have anything better to do than to look on with disinterest.
It was an old woman in front of a small shop with a curtain for a door. She was covered in jewelry from head to toe and wore a thin scarf around her head. Her skin was dark brown and wrinkled, hands looking fragile and scary, almost.
“You!” Suddenly she was pointing at Harry, her finger shaking.
“Me?!”
The woman made a “come hither” motion at him to beckon him forward.
He didn’t have any reason not to, so he ambled towards the old lady.
She grabbed for him as soon as he was within her reach, pulling him even closer. He had to lean down to let her whisper in his ear, as she seemed so eager to do.
“You’ve got magic in you, isn’t that right?”
Harry jerked back from her. “What?”
The woman laughed. “I can sense it, boy. You’re not from here.”
“H-How do you know that?”
“Your accent, of course.”
“No, I meant how did you know I have, well, you know.”
The woman smiled, showing off yellowed teeth. “Magic? It’s because I have it too.”
Harry gave her a once-over. She didn’t look like any witch or wizard he’d seen before. But if she was telling the truth… she might have a wand. Might be able to help him get to London.
“You’re a witch?” Harry asked softly.
The woman guffawed. “It’s Lousiana, my boy! There’s hardly anyone who’s not some sort of magical around here.” She looked him over. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Do you need help?”
“I would be unbelievably grateful for some help,” Harry admitted.
The woman nodded sagely. “Come in then. I think I can help you. Maybe even teach you a thing or two while we’re at it.”
Harry took one look around his surroundings and, realizing he had nothing to lose, he followed her into the small shop. He was in an unfamiliar place and an unfamiliar time, but things weren’t looking all too bad.