Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

...

Harrison rubbed at his cheek, feeling the bruise from Vernon's strike. The skin was tender and warm to the touch and the sensation sent a spark of rage through his stomach.

How dare he? How dare they!

He'd been so good this summer, never speaking out, even when his aunt had made snide remarks about the state of the house, or how little he'd done to deserve anything.

Harrison had done his best to keep his head down and out of sight. He'd tried to be invisible, a shadow, a ghost. It had worked, right up until Marge showed up.

He'd just wanted to go up to his room and stay there for the rest of the visit, but when she started insulting him he couldn't help himself. He'd told her that at least he was loved and wanted by his parents, unlike her.

That's when Vernon had hit him, hard. Marge had gone red with rage and then spat a tirade of abuse at him. He'd stood his ground, though.

It was worth it to see the look of rage on his uncle's face. He'd even smiled a little. The smile was the last straw and Vernon had dragged him outside by his hair. He'd shoved him onto the pavement and said he wasn't allowed in the house until morning.

He'd been outside for hours. He'd watched as the lights in the house had been turned off one by one. Harrison waited until he was sure no one would catch him sneaking back in. Not to stay. No, he was going to escape.

Over the last year, he gained just enough control over his magic that he could unlock doors without a wand. So, he quietly snuck into the house. He made his way up to his room. There he only grabbed what he needed. A knapsack filled with a few changes of clothes, his potions book, the red bead he always had, the photo album, and his invisibility cloak.

Harrison went over to the cupboard under the stairs and pulled his money stash out. It was little bit of money he could skim off of the Dursley's without them noticing. He was going to need all the money he could get if he was going to leave.

Harrison left the house and began walking away from Privet Drive. He didn't know where he was going, just away. He walked and walked, and before he knew it, the sun had come up. He was on a bus heading out of Surrey, away from the Dursley's, and towards some unknown fate.

...

When Harrison first got on the bus, he'd just had a vague idea of leaving, but he didn't have a plan. He just kept moving, taking the bus from place to place, staying as long as he could. When his money started to run out, Harrison knew he needed to find a new way to make money.

The first few days he tried selling the newspaper, but the only person who bought it from him was a weird old lady. He was sure the woman was homeless. He'd seen her in several different places, each time wearing the same clothes, and carrying the same large purse.

Other than newspapers, he also fixed things for people. He'd learned a few skills from working with Mr. Weasley. He'd fixed a few things, mostly radios and other small electronics. It helped him get by for a while, but he still wasn't making a lot of money.

Going to Gringotts was not an option. First issue being he didn't have his key. Second was that it was likely being watched if word got out that he ran away. If he were to try, and fail, to access his vault, then he would be caught and returned to his aunt and uncle's house.

So, the bank was not an option. Instead, he took up odd jobs and begged for change. Sometimes, he would get enough for a meal or two. Other times he didn't even have enough for a bus ride. It was a dangerous life, being a runaway, and he didn't know how long he could continue like this.

The day before his birthday, he was feeling especially down. It was late at night, and he was sitting on a bench in a park. His stomach growled in hunger, but he knew there was nothing to eat. He didn't have a tent or any kind of shelter. He didn't even have a blanket.

The only thing really he had was the red bead with the strange inscription inside. At one point he tried to have it appraised to see if he could sell it. The reactions he received were mixed. One person called him a thief. Another told him it wasn't worth anything.

Now it was just something interesting to look at when he was bored. The engraving was a strange one. It looked almost like a language. However, the characters were strange and unlike any he'd seen before.

Harrison looked around the empty park and sighed. He didn't want to be here, but it was the only place he could be sure he wouldn't get in trouble. It was a quiet area.

Harrison's stomach growled again and he rubbed his belly in a weak attempt to soothe it. It didn't help, not really, but he felt better doing something.

"Excuse me." A voice said, breaking the silence.

Harrison's head snapped up, and he was shocked to see an older man standing in front of him. He didn't think anyone else was in the park. He was a tall thin man with blond hair and blue eyes. The man had a sharp nose and chin.

He could sense the man was a wizard. He was powerful, and yet something felt strange about his magic. Harrison knew it would be stupid to let him know that he was a wizard too, so he remained silent. Even if the man knew they were in a muggle area. So, he should be safe from the man using magic against him.

"What?" Harrison asked, trying to put as much hostility into his voice as possible.

The man held up his hands and said, "Easy there. I was only going to ask you if you need help."

"Help? I don't need your help." Harrison said.

The man shook his head and replied gently, "You clearly do."

Harrison felt his eye twitch. Who was this man to judge him? They'd never met. This man didn't know him. So, what if he was hungry? It's not his problem.

"Why should you care?"

"I've seen you around." The man said, and Harrison felt a cold dread in his chest. Had the man been following him?

"I have no money, so don't try and mug me," he snapped pretending not to know the man was a wizard.

The man chuckled and said, "I'm not a mugger, boy. I'm a friend."

"Yeah, well, I don't need a friend."

"You need someone." The man said softly stepping closer.

Harrison jumped to his feet mistrust clear in his green eyes.

"I don't know you," Harrison said, hoping his voice didn't tremble.

"No, you don't," agreed the man.

"You've been following me, haven't you?" Harrison said, taking a step away from the man.

"Just to make sure you were alright," the man assured him.

Harrison didn't believe him. No one was that nice. Especially not a grown man. There was no such thing as a kind adult. He knew that better than most.

"Stay away from me," Harrison said, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the man insisted and took a step closer to harruson.

"Stay away!" He repeated louder this time, drawing the attention of a few late-night wanderers.

The man paused and noted the attention. He gave a polite smile and said, "Come now. You can't cause a scene here."

Harrison took that as his cue and bolted. He ran, hoping the man wouldn't follow him, but as soon as he reached the other end of the park, the man appeared in front of him, wand raised. He dodged on instinct and rolled behind a bush.

"Come now, lad. I'm not going to hurt you."

Bullshit! Harrison didn't believe that for a second. If the man hadn't meant him harm, why did he have his wand out?

Harrison looked around the area and noticed there was no one nearby. If the man wanted to kill him, no one would hear his screams.

He needed to escape. Harrison darted to the left and tried to run, but the man appeared in front of him again and blocked his path.

Harrison turned to the right, but the man blocked him again.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing," the man said.

"Why are you chasing me?" Harrison asked, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice.

"You need help," the man said, his voice calm and steady.

Harrison didn't believe a word the man was saying. He was going to kill him. It was the only reason someone would chase after a random kid.

Harrison's magic reacted to his raging emotions nd there a loud crack. Suddenly he was in an entirely different area of London. He looked around the empty street and saw a sign for a nearby bus stop. Harrison had no idea where the bus was going, and at the moment, he didn't care. All he knew was that he was free of the man.

Chapter Text

...

Harrison had no idea where the bus was going. When he stepped off the bus, he found himself in a new city. He wasn't even sure which city. He just knew that he was far from the strange blond man who had been following him.

At least for a while.

After spending two days in the city, Harrison built a routine. He got up and wandered the streets. He looked for a job and did odd jobs for people. It didn't pay a lot, but it was better than nothing. He was able to make a few quid here and there.

One night, after working hard all day, Harrison was looking forward to a night of rest. He found a quiet place in an alley to sleep. He curled up and pulled his hoodie tightly around his shoulders.

He closed his eyes, ready to drift off to sleep, when he heard a noise. Harrison opened his eyes and sat up. He scanned the area and spotted the source of the noise.

There, standing not ten feet away, was the blond man. Oh for fucks sake. How had the man found him so quickly? Harrison was in a new city.

"Who are you?" Harrison demanded.

The man smiled and replied, "An interested party."

"That's not an answer!" He growled.

"It is for now," the man said, and Harrison felt a flash of irritation.

"If you're not going to tell me, then go away," Harrison ordered.

"No, I don't think I will."

"Don't make me scream," Harrison threatened.

"You could try, but no one will come."

"Then I'll run," Harrison said and stood up.

"That is within your right. But you won't get far," declared the man with clear amusement.

Harrison scowled and turned away. He was tired and hungry, and his feet were sore. He wasn't up to dealing with the man, and the sooner he left, the sooner Harrison could go back to sleep.

"Go away," he said firmly and hoped the man would take the hint.

"I'm not here to hurt you, child," the man said, his voice soft and gentle.

"I'm not a child," Harrison shot back.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm thirteen, and I can take care of myself," he insisted.

And he was. While he didn't have a bed or a roof over his head, he was getting by. It was better than living with his aunt and uncle. At least he could eat here, and he could do what he wanted.

"Clearly."

Harrison glared and replied, "If you're not going to answer my questions, then just leave."

He was half tempted just to leave and find another place to sleep. He had a good feeling that no matter where he went, the man would show up again.

"You should come with me," the man suggested, and Harrison's eyes widened.

"Like hell," he spat. "I'm perfectly fine here on my own. I don't need you."

"No? Then how long do you think you can keep this up? A month? A year? Longer? Do you have a plan for when you have no money, or a warm bed?"

"I have a plan," Harrison insisted.

If it came down to it, he could use his Invisibility Cloak. He didn't want to be a thief but he wouldn't starve. He could always get a job and work his way up. He wasn't afraid of a little hard work.

"I doubt that," the man said with a slight chuckle.

"You know nothing about me," hissed Harrison, "Why should I trust some weird stranger who can't take no for an answer? For all I know you could be a pedophile?"

"What is a pedo... Nevermind I'm sure I don't want to know." The man sighed and continued, "I assure you, child. I have no intention of harming you. I only want to help you."

"Why?" Spat the boy.

"You need help," the blond man explained.

Again with that! He didn't need help! He was fine!

"I'm fine!" Harrison shouted and stomped his foot.

"I disagree."

Harrison felt a spike of rage. Who was this man? To waltz in and act like he knew what was best. Like he could dictate Harrison's life.

"I don't care what you think! I'm not going with you, so you can just fuck off and leave me alone!"

Harrison spun on his heel and began walking away. He was tired and wanted to sleep. He didn't need the man and his cryptic bullshit. He could take care of himself.

"I don't think that is the wisest choice."

Harrison stopped walking. He slowly turned to look at the man and said, "Fuck off. Or I'll scream."

"As I said before, you can try, but no one will come. It's far too late, and no one cares about a dirty street urchin. Not to mention you are far from the main road."

Harrison glared and hissed, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"And what will you do if I leave? Find somewhere else to sleep? What if I come back tomorrow? And the next day, and the next. Will you keep running and hiding, or will you give in and allow me to help you?"

"I'll fight you."

The man gave a slight laugh and said, "You won't win."

"Wanna bet?" Harrison asked and summoned his magic.

It was sluggish and didn't respond as fast as it should, but the man was still thrown back several feet. He landed on the ground and groaned.

"How did you?" the man said, his confusion plain on his face.

Harrison took that as his chance. He turned and ran. He didn't stop until he was well away from the blond.

He ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest. His throat burned. His lungs ached.

He couldn't breathe.

The sound of his harsh breaths filled the air. He was panting, struggling to draw breath. Why was it so hard? His vision blurred. He felt dizzy and light-headed.

"Shit," Harrison mumbled.

He sank to the ground and drew his knees up to his chest. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his knees. Around him, the sounds of the city echoed. The hum of the lights, the cars, the wind, all of it was muffled.

All he could hear was his ragged breathing. It sounded loud, like a freight train, or a waterfall, or an avalanche. The sound was deafening. It drowned out everything else.

"Stop it," he ordered, and his voice came out a strangled whisper.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it got caught in his throat. He coughed and wheezed. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. His hands shook.

He needed to calm down. If he didn't calm down, he he'd lose control. And that would be bad.

"Just stop. Stop it. Stop."

Harrison didn't know what to do. He was alone, and no one was coming to save him. He had no friends, and his family would never come looking. He didn't have a home, or a place to call his own.

His chest tightened, and his eyes burned. The tears were starting to fall, and he was helpless to stop them. He sobbed, and the sounds were loud. Too loud.

"Please," he whispered. "Please, stop. Please."

He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. He tried to stop crying, but it was useless. The tears kept falling.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, stop."

His heart was racing. His stomach twisted into knots. He was going to be sick. He gagged and retched.

The sound of his dry heaves filled the alley. It echoed off the walls and bounced back to him. The smell of vomit reached his nose.

"Stop, please."

The world was spinning, and he was dizzy. His vision was blurry, and his ears were ringing. Everything was fading away.

He was going to die.

He was going to die alone, in the middle of a dirty alley, surrounded by the garbage.

"No, no, no."

His head was pounding. His stomach lurched. His vision went black.

He passed out.

Chapter Text

...

Corban checked the child's pulse and let out a relieved sigh. It was slow and steady.

He didn't know what had happened. He was certain the child would have come with him. He knew that the child would be safe, but he'd fought him and ran away. Corban wasn't prepared for the child's display of power.

Harry Potter could use wandless magic instinctively. It was a talent that many could only dream of having. It was also a deadly weapon.

Potter could have killed him if he'd wanted to. The power behind the spell was raw and untamed. If the boy was trained properly, he could have killed Corban.

He was a fool.

The boy was young, and his values were clearly still forming. If he was not trained properly, he could cause an accident. It wouldn't be intentional, of course, but he could still cause irreparable damage.

"We're going to need to talk, aren't we?" Corban asked the sleeping boy.

It wasn't a question, but he hoped the boy wouldn't wake up. The child was too young to be forced into such a decision. He was young and vulnerable. He needed guidance and stability.

The boy needed a home.

"I hope you understand, young man," Corban said and placed his hand on the child's forehead.

Gently he pushed the boy further into sleep. With his free hand, he waved his wand and conjured a blanket. He draped the blanket over the child.

"Sleep, and dream of better times."

With that, he Apparated away.

...

The next time Harrison woke up, he was lying on a bed. He was still dressed in his old clothes, which were wrinkled and smelled musty. There were no windows in the room. The only light was coming from a small lamp on the table next to the bed.

He sat up slowly and looked around. The room was large and furnished with a desk, a dresser, a nightstand, and a chair. It was larger than the Dursley's living room and kitchen.

"Good. You're awake," a voice said.

Harrison turned his head and saw the man. The blond man who had chased him. He was standing near the door with his arms crossed over his chest. The man wore a dark green shirt and black slacks. His blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His blue eyes were filled with concern.

"Where am I?" He demanded.

"In my home."

Great he had been kidnapped by a strange wizard! Just great!

"You kidnapped me?!"

"No, I rescued you."

"What are you talking about? I was fine!" Harrison snapped.

The man arched a brow and asked, "Are you telling me that you weren't sleeping in a dirty alley? Or that you weren't hungry and alone? Because I can assure you that those things are true."

Harrison glared and replied, "You can't prove that."

"Actually, I can," the man said stepping into the room, "Do you know what would happen if the Ministry of Magic found out about you being on the streets?"

"They'd make me go back to the Dursleys," Harrison said softly.

"Not necessarily," denied the man, "Because of your title as the Boy-Who-Lived, you are a symbol of hope for the magical world. The Ministry would be more likely to place you with a "proper" guardian. A proper pureblood who would bring you to heel under the Ministry's control. Someone like Lucius Malfoy."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harrison asked.

He shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to go back to the Dursley's. But the idea of being sent to someone who was like his aunt and uncle made his stomach churn. The Malfoys would treat him just as bad if not worse than the Dursleys.

"Because you need to understand that you aren't safe on the streets."

"I can take care of myself!"

"Can you? You had a panic attack. What if that had happened in the middle of the street? What if you have one and you have a bout of accidental magic? The Ministry as you know can track that. The only reason they weren't this time was because I was there."

"So? I'm fine now, aren't I?"

"Yes, but what about next time?" The man countered.

Harrison glared and crossed his arms over his chest. He was angry, and he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he was right. There was a softening of his expression.

"Child, listen. I'm not trying to make you do anything. I just want to help. You're young, and you're alone. You're a wizard living in the muggle world. There is no one here to help you."

"So?"

"So, you're going to get hurt, and no one will know until it's too late," the man explained gently.

Harrison was quiet not knowing what to say. The man was right. He was alone, and no one cared about him. The Dursleys would rather him be dead. The magical world didn't care about him. They were more concerned with what he could do for them.

"Let's start again. I am Corban Yaxley."

"Harrison Potter," he said and offered his hand.

Corban took his hand and shook it. The grip was firm and steady.

"It's nice to meet you, Harrison. Or you you prefer Harry?"

"Harrison."

"Alright, Harrison, how about you take a shower, and I'll see about getting you something to eat?"

"A shower?"

"Yes, I'm sure it's been a while since you've had a good bath. The bathroom is through there," he pointed towards a door, "There are fresh towels, and you can use the toiletries in the bathroom. I'll leave a change of clothes on the bed. Do you need anything?"

"Uh, no," Harrison said and shook his head.

"Then, I'll leave you to it," Corban said and stepped back towards the door giving Harrison space, "Just call, Pips when you're done. He will lead you to the dining room."

Then just like that he left. Harrison sat there, stunned. He couldn't believe that had just happened. He had expected a fight, but the man was being so... Nice.

He was a little suspicious. What did Corban Yaxley gain from helping him? Was he doing this to get on his good side? Did he want something from him?

Maybe Corban was a pedo and was trying to groom him. It could be that he wanted something. Something Harrison wasn't sure he was willing to give. Or maybe he really was trying to help.

And maybe, Slytherins would make nice with Hufflepuffs, he thought cynically.

Still, Harrison was going to take advantage of the offer. It wasn't often that he was able to shower. Only Hogwarts had allowed him to shower as much as he wanted. There was even hot water. Dursleys gave him a five minute ice cold shower.

He got up and went to the bathroom. There was a large tub and a separate shower. The sink was large and had a mirror. There was a basket full of soap and shampoo. There were several bottles of body wash, bubble bath, and shampoo.

Harrison was a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff. He'd never seen so much before. Not even at the store.

"How can he afford all this?" He wondered.

He stripped and went into the shower. The water was hot, and the pressure was perfect. He washed and conditioned his hair, and scrubbed his body. When he was done, he felt clean.

"That was amazing," Harrison said to himself as he dried off.

There was a pile of clothes waiting for him. They were a simple set of dark pants and a white shirt. There was also a pair of socks and underwear. They were new and unused.

"I'm surprised they fit," Harrison murmured as he put the clothes on.

The pants were a bit long, but the socks helped with that. He pulled the shirt on and went into the bedroom. Yaxley said to call for a House Elf to show him to the Dining Room.

"Uh, Pips?" He called.

A moment later, there was a pop. A small house elf appeared. He was wearing a clean white towel with a white wolf crest. He was also wearing a little hat.

"Is this Master Harry?" Pips asked, his eyes wide.

"Um, yeah."

"I'm Pips, Master Harry. If you is needing anything, you just say my name," Pips explained, "Come, the master bes waiting for you. You is liking food, yes?"

"Yes," Harrison nodded.

Pips led him down the hallway and into a large room. The room had high ceilings and a large fireplace. The furniture was all made of dark wood. The carpet was a deep red. There was a large portrait on the far wall.

The painting was a picture of a man in armor. He was sitting on a throne. His face was covered by a mask. His eyes were cold and lifeless.

"This way," Pips said and pointed towards a set of double doors.

Harrison followed the elf into the next room. This room was a dining room. It was similar to the last room. The only difference was that there were several people in the room.

Corban Yaxley sat at the head of the table. There was a plate to his right that Harrison assumed was for him.

"Ah, Harry, please sit down," Corban said and waved towards the seat.

Harrison walked over and sat down. Pips placed a plate of food in front of him. It smelled like chicken broth and noodles.

"Thank you, Pips," he said politely.

"You is welcome, Master Harry," Pips replied with a smile, "Can I be getting you anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"Master Harry, if you is needing me, just say my name," the house elf bowed his head, then he popped out.

Pips was less excitable than Dobby. It was something he appreciated.

"How are you feeling?" Corban asked, taking a sip from his cup.

"Better," Harrison answered cautiously.

"I'm glad," Corban smiled, "Do you have any questions?"

"I have lots," Harrison said and started eating.

"Then, please, ask away."

"Why are you helping me?" Harrison asked.

"Because you need it," Corban said simply.

Again with the nonanswers.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because you are a wizard, and as such, I am obligated to protect you," Corban explained.

Harrison frowned and asked, "So, you're doing this out of obligation?"

He really didn't want to be a burden to anyone. His escape from the Dursleys finally gave him a chance to be free. He didn't want to have to rely on others. Relying on anyone other than yourself led to disappointment and heartbreak.

"No, child, not out of obligation," Corban said softly.

"Then why?" Harrison pushed.

"Because, you're a child. It is my duty as a wizard and an adult to protect and guide children," Corban said firmly.

"Oh," Harrison mumbled.

He hadn't considered that. He knew that adults were supposed to help children, but he'd never met an adult who cared. The Dursleys didn't care about him. Dumbledore simply threw him back to the Dursleys. His Professors treated him like he was a troublemaker, a second coming of his dad. Or they treated him like he should know everything being the Boy -Who-Lived.

"I know that the world has let you down. But you can't let that stop you from finding someone to rely on. To trust," Corban said kindly, "I want to be that person for you. If you'll let me."

"I don't need your pity," Harrison muttered.

"I don't pity you. I feel sympathy, yes, but I don't pity you."

"Why should I believe you?"

Harrison didn't want to believe him. It was easier not to trust. If he didn't trust him, then he couldn't be betrayed. He couldn't be hurt.

"Because I can give you the life that was stolen from you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're a wizard, and you deserve the right to live as one. But your guardians never let you experience the wizarding world. You're not prepared for the real world, and you don't know how to deal with things that come with being a wizard. Or your Lordship when you come of age."

"My what?" He squawked.

"Your title as the Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House," Corban explained.

"What are you talking about?" He demanded.

He was a Lord? What else was going to be thrown onto him? He was the Boy-Who-Lived and now a Lord? Why was his life always being messed with?

"You're the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter," Corban explained patiently, "Your father came from a long line of purebloods. While he never took up his title do to the war you are still his Heir. When he died, his titles passed to you."

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means that you are entitled to certain things. As a Lord, you have responsibilities and duties. Your family's properties are yours to do with as you see fit. You have an estate and a fortune. All of which were passed down to you when your parents died. Right now you have access to your Trust Vault but when you turn 17 you'll be able to access your Family Vaults."

"How come no one told me about this?"

"Probably because they thought it would be easier," Corban shrugged, "Dumbeldore might have told you when you're older. Then again he might not have. Either way, I can help you with your heritage. If you'll allow me."

"What do you get out of it?" Harrison asked.

He needed to know what the man wanted. No one would help him without getting something in return.

"I get the pleasure of helping a young wizard find his feet in the world," Corban said easily, "I don't need anything from you. I have my own money and property."

Harrison eyed him skeptically. He didn't trust the man, but he seemed genuine. Maybe, he could give him a chance.

"You're not going to make me go back to the Dursleys, right?"

"No, I'll ensure that you never return to them," Corban promised.

Harrison relaxed and sighed, "Alright. I'll let you help me."

"Excellent, I will send an owl to the Ministry tomorrow."

"Why?"

"To inform them that I will be acting as your guardian," Corban said and continued, "They will send the necessary paperwork. Until then, we'll discuss how you'll be living here. And I'll take you to get some clothes and other necessities."

"Oh, okay," Harrison mumbled.

His mind was still trying to catch up. He was going to be living with the strange blond man. It wasn't so bad, he decided. The man seemed kind enough, and he was willing to teach him. At this point anything was better than the Dursleys.

"Now, finish your food. We'll talk more later," Corban said, smiling at the boy.

"Okay," Harrison.

Chapter Text

...

When Harrison woke up the next morning, he felt groggy. He sat up and looked around. The room was still the same as the night before. Nothing had changed.

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, then took a shower. The hot water felt good, and he felt a lot better after he'd finished. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom.

There was a tray on the nightstand. It had a cup of tea and some toast. Next to the tray was a note.

Good Morning,

I apologize for leaving you alone. I had to attend an early meeting. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. There are fresh clothes in the closet. I'll be home shortly.

~Corban

Harrison put the note back on the nightstand and went to the closet. Sure enough there were clothes both muggle and wizarding. The quality was better than anything he'd ever had. He pulled out a simple pair of slacks and a dark green shirt.

The material was soft, and the clothes fit him perfectly. It was a nice change from his old baggy hand-me-downs. He left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

He was surprised by how quiet the house was. He couldn't hear any sounds coming from anywhere else. It was eerie.

"Maybe I should try to make something," Harrison mused as he walked into the kitchen.

In the kitchen was a house elf different from Pips. She was taller and her ears were longer. She wore a green dress with a white apron. Her head was bald, and her eyes were red.

"Oh, hello," Harrison said, "I'm Harrison."

"Good morning, Master Harry," the elf bowed, "I is Bips. If you is needing anything, just says my name."

"Thanks," Harrison mumbled and looked around, "Is breakfast ready? I can come back later if not."

"No, Master Harry. Breakfast is being done. Would you like something to drink while you wait?"

"Yes, please. Some juice, if you have it."

"Yes, Master Harry," Bips snapped her fingers, and a glass of orange juice appeared.

Harrison took the glass and sat at the counter. He sipped his juice and watched as Bips flitted around the kitchen.

"Are there any other elves besides Pips and you?"

"No, Master Harry. Only me and Pips," Bips replied, "We is keeping this place running for Master Corban."

A plate of pancakes appeared in front of him. There was a cup of syrup and a jar of butter. Bips handed him a fork and knife. A moment later, eggs and sausage was placed next to it.

"Thank you," Harrison said and began cutting the pancakes.

He would have to be careful about how much he ate. The Dursleys had only given him a little bit of food, and he was used to it. Then staying on the streets he did his best but he still was half starved.

"If you is needing anything, Master Harry, just call for me," Bips bowed and then popped away.

He ate in silence, savoring the flavor. The food was delicious, and he could tell it was homemade. He was only able to eat about a quarter of what he was given.

"That was amazing," he said and stood up, "Thank you, Bips."

Bips popped back into the kitchen and bowed. She smiled and replied, "You is welcome, Master Harry. I is glad you liked the food."

"I did. Do you need help with the dishes?"

"No, Master Harry, but thank you," she said and waved her hand, and the dishes disappeared.

"Oh, right. Magic."

"Would you like some more juice, Master Harry?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Of course," she said and handed him a refilled glass.

Once he was finished he wandered the halls and eventually ended up in the library. It was a large room filled with books. There were several chairs and a couch. There was a fireplace and a large window.

Harrison grabbed a book off the shelf and sat down on the couch. He read the book quietly, and when he finished, he started reading the next one.

He was reading a book about the history of the wizarding world. It was different from what they learned in Hogwarts. To his surprise Dark Magic wasn't always forbidden like it was today. It wasn't until after the War with Grindelwald that the Ministry banned it.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"There you are," a voice said from behind him.

Harrison jumped and dropped the book. His heart raced, and his breathing sped up. He spun around and saw Yaxley.

He didn't quite relax as he said, "Uh, hi."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Yaxley apologized, and stepped into the room, "I came home and you weren't in your room. I was worried."

He probably thought Harrison tried to run away again. Well, that wasn't a terrible idea, but he was enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I just found the library and..." Harrison trailed off.

"That's alright. It's a very impressive collection. My father had collected most of these. Many are originals," Corban said sitting across from him, "You are welcome to any book here but I ask that you don't try any of the spells without me. Some of them are rather dangerous."

Harrison considered the request for a moment before he agreed, "I won't. Promise."

"Thank you, child."

"It's fine. Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"I've been wondering... Why me?" Asked Harrison in a small voice.

Corban considered him for a moment. His gaze was steady and calm.

"Why you? You mean, why am I taking care of you instead of sending you back to the muggles," the man said bluntly, "It's a fair question."

Harrison nodded.

"Because you deserve better," the blond explained, "The magical world abandoned you when your parents died. They put you in a home that did not take care of you. Now they want to control you. That is unacceptable."

"Oh."

"Protection is another reason," Corban said and continued, "I don't know if you have heard about Sirius Black's escape frok Azkaban. However, I do believe that it's not a coincidence that he broke free at the same time that you are on the streets."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe that someone set him free," the blond said slowly.

"Who?"

"I don't know yet," the blond answered honestly, "But whoever it is, is clearly powerful and connected. The wards at Azkaban aren't easy to get through."

"Do you think he'll come after me?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. Black was close friends with your parents. If he knows where you are, and is sane, then I'm sure he'll come for you," Corban answered.

"Sane?"

"The conditions of Azkaban aren't kind. Being trapped there would drive anyone insane. If Black is sane enough to track you, then he is a danger. You need to stay hidden. My meeting this morning was to ensure my guardianship. The goblins will be sending the papers for us to sign tomorrow."

"So, what's going to happen now?"

"For now nothing," Corban said, and Harrison frowned, "Your life is your own. What happens from here is up to you. I will ensure you go to Hogwarts and learn the basics skills. From there, we can figure out the rest. How does that sound?"

"Alright," Harrison replied.

"Very good," the blond nodded and stood up, "Would you like to go shopping? Get some things for yourself."

He hesitated. No one ever spent money on him if they didn't have to. The Dursleys would always complain about the expense of having him around.

"We'll start small. Clothes and other essentials," Corban after seeing his hesitation, "And no, this won't cost you anything."

"Why are you doing all of this?"

"As I said before, the world has abandoned you. It's time for that to stop."

...

Once they are, Corban took him to Diagon Alley. There weren't many people out, but the stores were open. Harrison looked around, excited to see the place again.

"Let's go to Madam Malkin's," Corban suggested.

Harrison nodded and followed the older man. They entered the store and were greeted by the proprietor.

"Hello, Lord Yaxley," the witch greeted politely, "How may I help you today?"

"Hello, Madam Malkin, my charge needs some new clothing. And please, call me Corban," the blond replied.

"Of course," Madam Malkin said, and gestured towards Harrison, "Is there anything in particular you would like, dearie?"

"He needs a full wardrobe. Including a dress robe," Corban supplied, and turned to Harrison, "We'll start with getting your uniform for school. Pick whichever one you prefer."

"Alright," Harrison replied shyly.

"Come along, dearie," the woman led him towards the dressing room.

Harrison did as he was told, and soon, his entire wardrobe was bought and packed. After they were done, Corban took him to Flourish and Blotts, and purchased books for him.

Corban took him into the Apothecary and ordered ingredients for his potions supplies. Harrison wasn't too sure about getting ingredients. Snape had essentially made it so he had no interest in the subject.

"You will not have any restrictions in what you study. We will simply cover the basics," the older wizard explained.

"Okay," he muttered.

"We'll have your textbooks sent to the manor."

Once they left the Apothecary, he felt eyes upon him. He shifted nervously and followed Corban. The shifting brought him close to his guardian.

"Ignore the gawkers," the man advised softly, "They're not worth our attention."

Harrison did his best to ignore the stares. However, he could hear the whispers. People were saying all sorts of things.

"Look! It's him."

"He looks a lot like James."

"What's he doing with Yaxley? The bastard is a Death Eater."

"I've never seen a pureblood associate with a Half-Blood."

"He doesn't have the stench of the Light."

"Do you think Yaxley is teaching him the Dark Arts?"

"No, I don't. Not with him being the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Maybe his fame is the draw. Someone should over him away from Yaxley."

Harrison shivered. The people were looking at him and talking about him like he was some kind of sideshow freak. Did everyone hate him?

"Just ignore them, child," Corban advised, putting an arm around his shoulders.

He didn't move away from the touch but neither did he relax. This was all too much for him.

"Don't worry about it," Corban reassured, and guided him towards an alley, "Come. It's time for us to go home."

...

"How are you feeling, child?" Corban asked as they returned to the library.

"Tired," Harrison said and plopped onto the couch.

"Understandable. It has been a long day," Corban said and snapped his fingers.

Bips and Pips popped in and Harrison lazily looked up at them.

"Can I be getting you anything, Master Harry, sir," Pips asked excitedly.

"Can I get some water?" Harrison asked tiredly.

"Of course, sir," Bips answered, "Pips, the Master would like some water."

"Yes, Bips!"

A cup of water appeared in his hand, and Harrison sipped at it. He was exhausted and drained. He'd never had a full day like this.

"Rest," the blond encouraged, "You've had a busy day. Relax now and take the rest of the day for yourself. Tomorrow we will discuss how you want your schedule."

"Alright."

Corban patted his shoulder and left the room. Harrison drank his water and laid down on the couch. Soon he was asleep.

...

"Master Harry is a sweet boy," Pips whispered to his sister, "He's a nice Master."

"Yes, he is," agreed Corban.

He'd been listening to their conversation and had to agree with them. While Harrison was suspicious of his motives, the boy was well behaved and polite. Unlike many his age he was even polite to the House Elves.

"I want you to send him some snacks when he wakes up," Corban ordered.

"Of course, Master. Bips and Pips will take care of Master Harry," the house elves nodded, and Corban smirked.

This could work. He would make sure that the boy would grow up and learn what he should have. He would teach the child that the Dark was not evil. Feeding his curiosity and giving him the knowledge the child craved would allow him to sway the boy.

The Light was a since Dumbeldore took command. He had changed the way that the Light was perceived. Where once the Dark had been equal in the war, now the Dark had become the monsters.

Lucius was right. They needed to show the Wizarding World that they weren't the enemy. They didn't need to fight and kill. But there were those who did.

Protecting Harrison came first however. If they were able to win the boy's trust and loyalty then the others would follow. The Boy-Who-Lived could bring them back from the brink of extinction.

The child had been neglected at least by his muggle family. They'd never provided him with the love or guidance a child deserved. Corban didn't like James Potter but he would never wish this upon a child.

He would take his time. He would not force the boy to accept his view. That would only cause resentment and distrust.

He would guide the boy and hope for the best.

Chapter Text

...

Harrison was woken up the next morning by a House Elf.

"Wake up, Master Harry, sir. Breakfast is ready," Pips squeaked.

"Morning, Pips," Harrison mumbled.

He yawned and stretched. He hadn't slept this good since he was at Hogwarts. The bed was comfortable and warm.

He changed from his pajamas to a grey shirt and pants. He slipped on his shoes and padded into the hallway. He could smell bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen.

"Good morning, Harrison," Corban greeted him, and Harrison paused, "Please sit. How did you sleep?"

He glanced around the dining room taking it in. Corban was sitting at the table eating with the Prophet in one hand. There were several chairs at the table giving him choices on where to sit. He hesitated unsure. He wasn't allowed to sit at tables. Not unless he wad at Hogwarts. It wasn't safe.

When he didn't move, Corban looked up at him. His brow furrowed in concern, and he set his paper down. Harrison's hands shook slightly, and his chest felt tight. He wanted to sit, but the fear kept him rooted in his spot. He wasn't safe.

"Harrison?" Corban called gently.

"I-I'm okay," he mumbled.

Corban sighed, and Harrison tensed waiting for a punishment. The older wizard pushed his chair back and stood up. The man moved slowly.

The shaking grew more intense and his foot slipped back. He wasn't safe. The adults weren't supposed to touch him. They were the bad guys.

"Easy, child," the blond tried to soothe and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Harrison jumped away from it, his breathing heavy and his eyes wild. The man's blue-grey eyes softened, and his frown deepened.

"Calm, breathe, child," Corban said firmly and knelt down to be eye level with him.

The man took a deep breath, and Harrison hesitantly copied him. What was he doing? Why was the blond doing this?

"Deep breaths, good, just like that. In and out, good. Now, calm. Just focus on the present."

He listened to the man's steady voice. It was comforting. It was different than what his Uncle's would do. He felt his heart rate slow and his breathing calmed.

"Very good, Harrison," Corban praised.

When he looked around he found the vase was in pieces. Most likely broken by his magic reacting to his fear. He'd heard that the more emotional someone was the stronger their magic became.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's alright, nothing a simple mending charm can't fix," Corban waved him off.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, child," huffed Corban, "There is no need for an apology. You are a child who undoubtedly has faced many trials and tribulations. A little breakdown is to be expected. However, you need not apologize."

"Oh, sorry, uh, I mean, alright," he fumbled.

"Now, let's sit and eat, shall we? Then we'll have a little chat," the man suggested and guided him to the table.

"Okay."

The two ate in silence, and the tension in the room grew. Harrison was still embarrassed. He had panicked. He hadn't expected that to happen.

"Relax, child. All is forgiven. No harm has been done," the man's soft voice cut through the silence.

Harrison didn't believe him, but didn't say anything. The older wizard wasn't a cruel person. He wouldn't hit him for a mistake. He had proven that just now.

Corban then continued, "First some ground rules. The first and most important is: I will not harm you. As long as you are here, you will be protected. Second, when we are alone, you are welcome to speak freely. If there is something on your mind, you may share it."

"Are you sure?" asked Harrison not understanding why he would be allowed such a thing.

"Certain. You are a child, and deserve to be treated as such. If you have questions or concerns, please voice them," the man said firmly, and Harrison nodded.

"Is the food okay? Do you have any allergies?" the blond questioned, and Harrison shook his head, "If there is ever a change in your diet, please inform Bips or Pips."

Harrison bit his lip and asked, "Are you going to kick me out?"

"No, you're my ward, and you're staying here," Corban reassured.

"But, if I can't follow the rules?"

"We'll work on it," Corban answered, "We will start with a schedule."

"A schedule?" He asked.

Why would he need a schedule? What was it even for?

Corban caught his gaze as he continued, "Routine is key. When one is living without the stability that a schedule provides, stress levels are heightened and panic attacks are common. It's vital for both your health and education."

"So, what's the schedule for?"

"For your day," the older man explained, "It's for you to use, so that you have an idea of how each day is going to go. You'll have free time of course. It'll help you organize your days. You'll have a specific amount of time for schoolwork and lessons. Then free time. Understand?"

He didn't. The Dursley would tell him to do chores. They would assign him the things they wanted him to do. And they would beat him or lock him in the cupboard if he didn't compete the list. What would Corban do?

"Child, relax, breathe. You are safe," the blond spoke in a gentle tone.

He flinched, and Corban sighed. The older wizard reached out a hand and stopped just shy of touching his shoulder.

"May I?" asked Corban.

"O-okay," Harrison said nervously.

"Good," the blond placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

The touch wasn't rough or painful. It was warm and reassuring. The pressure helped to calm him.

"Better," Corban praised and withdrew his hand.

"Why are you helping me?" he blurted, "No one helps me. So, why are you? Why does it matter if I'm okay or not?

"Because no child deserves to be neglected or abused," answered Corban with conviction, "You've experienced the cruelty and neglect the magical world is capable of. Now you're being thrown into the spotlight, and they're trying to control you. You need a guide. Someone to help you understand the world and teach you about our history."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Nothing," the man assured, "Your life is your own. Let me guide you."

"Guide me? To what?"

"To freedom. From the chains that have been placed upon you. Freedom from the shackles of the past," the blond replied.

Harrison tilted his head to the side considering the man. He couldn't quite figure him out. Corban began to write on a piece of parchment.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"It's the schedule. I have decided to make the rest of today an introduction to your new life. I will teach you the basics. Starting tomorrow we will begin lessons and continue them until September," the blond said and handed him the parchment, "We will be having meals together as often as possible."

Harrison read over the schedule. There was an alarm clock set. His alarm was half an hour before breakfast. Breakfast then there was an hour of free time. Then lessons. After lunch, there was another hour of free time. Another lesson followed, and dinner. Then a few hours of free time, and lastly, it was lights out.

He looked up at Corban confused. Did the man really expect him to follow this? No chores? Only the lessons.

"I want to hear your opinion," the blond demanded.

"It looks good. Simple and easy," he muttered, and the blond hummed.

"Let's begin, shall we?" the older wizard smiled and led him upstairs.

Harrison was shown the library, and he was told that it was his and could use it whenever he liked. They were in a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the desk had a large fireplace behind it.

"This is the study. You're allowed to come here anytime. My office is in the next room. It is closed, and is not open for visitors," the man informed him, and Harrison nodded, "If I'm in my office and you need me, knock. Don't enter until given permission."

"Yes, sir," Harrison answered.

"Excellent," the blond grinned and took him down the hall.

There were rooms on either side of the hall, and there was an intersection. To their right, Harrison felt a pulse of magic. He froze as the pulse resonated within his chest. Corban continued as if he didn't feel it. He only stopped when he noticed Harrison wasn't following him any longer.

"Come along, Harrison," the older wizard beckoned.

Harrison obeyed and the pulsing faded. That was weird. Why did he feel that?

Chapter Text

...

After the tour, he was given free time until lunch. He used his time to read and explore. When it was time for him to eat, Corban joined him.

"I hope you are adjusting well," the older wizard stated.

"Uh, yeah. The house is big, but nice," he commented.

"Do you like the library? It was the largest room," the man smirked.

Harrison gave a small smile in return and nodded. He hadn't ever had the opportunity to look at so many books. He wasn't a good student. Hermione and Ron made fun of him because of his poor grades.

"Would you like me to send your books to your dormitory? You'll be able to enjoy reading during your free time," the blond offered.

"Um, sure, thank you," he accepted.

"You're welcome," the older wizard replied, and turned his attention to his plate, "Now, about your classes."

"I know, I'm not good enough," Harrison said and poked at his food.

"Pardon?" the older wizard raised a brow.

"I'm not smart," he admitted not meeting the blue eyes, "I have trouble learning things. My professors always yell at me for not doing the homework or understanding the lesson. It's easier to ignore them."

"Well, this won't be Hogwarts," the blond chuckled, and Harrison scowled, "I have no doubt you can learn what is taught. We will simply have to find a method that works for you. You are a bright boy. You just need the proper motivation."

Harrison didn't believe him. Everyone was the same. They all believed he was stupid and would never amount to anything.

"I am serious," the blond said firmly, and his tone brooked no argument.

"Alright," shrugged Harrison not willing to fight on it.

Corban huffed and the older wizard stood up. Harrison flinched expecting a blow. The man's face softened and he knelt beside him.

"No one, will strike you. Not while I'm here," the man said and gently ruffled his hair.

The touch was unfamiliar, but not unwanted. He was a little startled. He was touched but no one. The adults weren't supposed to care about him. He was supposed to be ignored or yelled at.

"I know that trust is not easily given," the blond spoke softly, "You have been mistreated. But not here. This is a safe place. Where you will have the protection and guidance that you need. Here you are not the Boy-Who-Lived. Here, you are a boy, just a normal young witch or wizard."

Harrison didn't believe him, but couldn't find the willpower to disagree. Instead, he gave a small nod.

"Finish your lunch, and we'll discuss your class," Corban said and moved back to his chair.

He was glad that the subject was dropped. He finished eating, and then they headed to the study.

"Now, where were we," the blond said and sat behind the desk.

"Uh, talking about my classes?"

"Ah, yes," the man said and leaned back in his chair, "Your core is strong, and the way your magic interacts with the environment is fascinating."

"Magic is reactive," Harrison muttered, "People do bad stuff, and it acts."

"That's actually fairly uncommon," the man informed, and Harrison frowned, "Magic is connected to the caster's emotions. In cases where the individual is unaware of their own abilities, or are overwhelmed by their feelings, magic reacts."

"Oh, so, I was scared and the vase broke," he mused.

"Very astute. Now, about the classes, which do you prefer?" the blond asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms," he replied immediately.

"Excellent choices," the blond approved, "Potions will be essential to understanding the basics."

"I don't think I want to learn," Harrison said and shifted uneasily, "I don't have the best track record."

"Let me guess, Severus?"

"He's awful."

"Severus is an exceptional Potions Master. However, he can be difficult," the man acknowledged.

Corban knew Snape he realized. Harrison wasn't sure how he felt about that. The fact was, no one seemed to see how much the man hated him.

"Perhaps we should focus on the basics, and then move forward from there," the man suggested, "Now, the rest of the curriculum should be rather straightforward. History of Magic, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration. The required subjects are completed. We will work on them early in the day so you can focus on Charms and Defense afterwards."

"That sounds great."

"Then that's what we'll do," the blond stated, "There's one more thing. I hope you won't fight me on this but I would like you to see a healer."

"Why? What's wrong with me?" Harrison demanded.

"Calm, child. I want you to get a full physical examination," the man explained.

"Why? There's nothing wrong with me," Harrison said stubbornly.

Corban gave him a long look, and Harrison stared right back. Around them the air began to stir. A low level buzz filled the room.

"Harrison, you have been neglected for years at best," the man said sternly, "As such, it's imperative you get a thorough physical exam."

"No," refused the boy immediately.

"I can understand why you're reluctant, but, this isn't something I'm willing to negotiate," the man responded and the room became tense.

A loud crack sounded within the room as a picture frame exploded. Shards flew and Corban raised a shield around them.

Harrison's eyes widened in surprise and panic. The fear spiked, and the glass from the lamps and the windows shattered.

"Powerful," breathed the man in wonder.

His magic whipped up the air as if they were standing outside in a storm. His heart raced, and his breath came out in quick pants. Harrison lunged out of the chair, and Corban's eyes widened in shock.

The boy scrambled for the door and bolted from the room. He didn't care where he was going. Just that he needed to escape.

Corban's voice echoed behind him, "Harrison! Stop!"

He ignored the order. He was panicking, and couldn't stop running. He couldn't stay. If the wizard found him, who knew what he would do.

Harrison ran through the house and out the front door. He didn't hesitate. He sprinted across the lawn and disappeared into the forest.

The branches scratched at him and pulled at his clothes. Brambles and thorns were left in his wake. He didn't look behind him. He knew that if Corban had caught up to him, he wouldn't be able to fight him off.

How long he ran he didn't know. All he was aware of was the burning sensation in his legs and lungs. Eventually, he stumbled, and his body couldn't continue.

He fell against a tree and gasped for air. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his heart continued to pound. A whimper escaped him, and his knees gave out.

A few feet in front of him was a barrier. He could feel the magic radiating from it. When his magic pressed against it, it pressed back. It denied him the chance to leave.

He couldn't get away. The realization caused a sob to bubble up. His hands clutched the dirt beneath him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

What was he supposed to do now? Corban had him. Would he beat him for trying to escape? How could he fight the older man's magic?

The Dursley's could control him because they had muggle objects. Their punishments were physical. However, his uncle and aunt were not wizards.

Corban had magic. Harrison had no idea what the man would do. His fear skyrocketed. His magic continued to lash out at the world around him.

The forest was a blur around him. Trees shook and leaves rustled. The earth under him was disturbed and roots rose and fell.

Harrison let the fear take over and the ground was torn apart. Roots tore and the earth crumbled. Stones and boulders were flung.

...

"Merlin," breathed Corban as he watched the child's magic tear the area apart.

He was entirely unprepared for this. The raw power that the boy was capable of. His magic had acted almost instinctually. It was wild magic that could rival even the Dark Lord's.

However, he would have no hope of controlling the child's power. He wasn't strong enough. And the boy was too volatile.

The trees and ground shook, and the stones and earth were lifted into the air. It was impressive, but it could prove deadly. If he wasn't careful, the child could seriously injure himself or Corban.

Corban had no idea how he would help the child. This wasn't what he expected. The boy was stronger than anyone could have imagined.

"Pips," he called.

"Master?" Asked the house Elf as they appeared, "What is Master Harrison doing?"

"Go find, Corvus Lestrange," ordered Corban, "Ask him to come here as soon as he can. Tell him it's an emergency."

"Yes, Master."

With that Pips vanished. The ground trembled, and a tree split in half. Corban stepped closer, and a large stone flew passed his head.

"Harrison, calm," he spoke slowly trying to pass on a calm he didn't feel, "Take a deep breath."

"Leave me alone," screamed the boy.

A large rock was thrown by the child's magic. It slammed into the ground between him and Harrison. The boy was curled up against the base of a large oak.

"Easy, child," he called again, and tried to move forward, only for another rock to come his way.

"Don't touch me," shouted the boy.

Corban pressed his lips together. This was getting dangerous. The longer this continued, the harder it would be for the boy.

He could wait until Corvus arrived, but he didn't think it was a good idea. He was already afraid and would undoubtedly feel trapped.

"Alright, alright," he assured and retreated a few feet, "You're safe, child."

The rocks stopped moving, and the wind died down. However, the trembling and quaking remained. He felt Corvus enter the wards at the manor.

A few minutes passed with the magic still whipping around them. Corvus Lestrange, was a man in his middle sixties, and had black hair with grey streaks. His dark eyes took in the scene before him.

"And what have we learned about children today, Corban?" Teased Corvus.

"Do not start," Corban hissed.

"What did you do?" questioned Corvus as he watched the magic, "The child is utterly terrified.

"Not a damn thing," defended Corban, "We were discussing seeing a healer."

"Corban," sighed Corvus, "The boy has spent most of his life years abused. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't aware the topic would send him running. Or that he would lose control of his magic," snapped Corban.

"He's a child, Corban. He doesn't have the best self-control," pointed out the elder, "We are lucky he's not an obscurial at this point. That kind of stress would cause a magical child to develop an obscurus. Which, would make it much worse."

"Well, that's comforting," drily commemted Corban but his worried gaze returned to the child.

He was not cut out for this. Corban never had children of his own. He was not prepared to deal with this.

"Calm, Corban. We can handle this," the man reassured, and looked towards the child, "Stay off to the side. Let him see you, but remain out of the way."

"I was planning on doing that anyway," Corban shot back, "I won't leave him Corvus."

"I would expect nothing less," the older man chuckled and made his way to the boy.

...

Corvus eased around the magic testing where the point was that he was too close. Once he reached the edge of the outpour, he paused and observed the child. With some difficulty he crouched down so that he was eye level with the panicking child.

"Hello, little one," the man's calm tone reached his ears, and the shaking increased.

"Stay back," yelled Harrison.

"Shh, child," the man's voice was firm but gentle, "I'm not here to hurt you. Your name is Harrison, right?"

Harrison tensed and slowly nodded. Corvus took in his state and frowned. The poor boy was trembling, and his breathing was erratic.

"Can I approach?"

"I'll break everything," the child said shakily, and a large stone cracked.

"That's fine. Nothing that can't be fixed," Corvus assured.

The earth began to tremble once more, and the man held his hand out. A blue shield surrounded them, and the flying objects hit it and were flung away.

Corvus watched as the child's eyes were blown wide. Fear was the dominant emotion.

"Shh, child, it's okay," Corvus spoke softly, "Everything is fine."

"No," Harrison denied and curled in on himself, "I can't control it."

"I'll help," Corvus soothed and inched a bit closer, "But, I need to know. Did you get hurt when your magic started acting out?"

"No."

That was a relief. The man relaxed a bit and focused on the boy. The poor child was so afraid. Likely afraid of his own magic.

"Very good," the older wizard praised, and the boy's eyes flickered, "It's a beautiful sight."

"W-what?" the boy's stammered.

"Your magic, it's stunning. It's pure, untainted by anything. A wonderful and unique magic," the older wizard explained, "I used to know someone a lot like you. A young man who had strong wild magic. It took him many years to learn on his own how to control his power. He was a natural and was a very skilled wizard. It is not easy to have this amount of power."

"Why can't I make it stop?" asked Harrison and looked up.

"Magic is an extension of a witch or wizard. You have no control, because you don't know what's going on," the man told him, "He had to learn on his own, but you don't. I'll teach you."

"H-how?"

"First, we will focus on calming down. Once your emotions aren't so high, you'll have a better handle on your power," Corvus answered.

"I'll hurt someone," the child whispered.

"That won't happen. I have a shield, and no one else will be hurt," the man replied and moved a few inches closer, "Deep breaths, little one."

Corvus watched as the child tried to calm himself. The child's hands were white as he squeezed his arms.

"There we go. Now, just listen to my voice," Corvus spoke, and his tone was even and soft.

Corvus stayed where he was and allowed the boy time to process his words. Soon the quaking slowed and the tremors faded. He took a few hesitant steps forward and the boy's green eyes followed his every move.

"There's a good boy," Corvus murmured and sat cross-legged in front of him, "You're safe."

The boy flinched as the man gently placed his hands on his.

"Shh, relax, little one," the old man murmured and gently stroked the child's hands.

Corvus kept his movements slow and soothing. He needed the boy to trust him. To know that no harm would come to him.

"That's it. Breathe. You're alright. Focus on me, little one."

Green eyes focused on his dark ones. The mistrust and fear in them, indeed reminded him of another. One whom he had met over fifty years ago.

"I'm here," the older man assured, "Corban is here. Nothing will happen to you. You're safe. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"How can I stop it?" asked the child, and his eyes became damp, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Breathe, focus. Picture the power, and imagine pulling it back inside yourself. Visualize it being reined in," the older wizard explained.

Harrison's brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly, the magic began to settle.

"Excellent," Corvus encouraged, "That's it, you've got it."

As the boy calmed, so did his magic. Eventually, it faded completely, and the older wizard smiled.

"You did wonderfully," the man praised.

"Did I? Everyone could have gotten hurt," the child replied dejectedly.

"True, but you didn't hurt anyone. That's the first step," the older wizard said.

"Corvus, Harrison," Corban spoke from a few feet away.

"Corban," the older man acknowledged, and then turned his attention back to the boy, "Come, child. Let's get you back inside."

Chapter Text

...

Harrison eyed the newcomer with suspicion. Even if he calmed Harrison down from his panic, he didn't know this man. Corvus, that's what Corban called him.

The blond was behind him and Corvus was blocking his view. Harrison didn't have a good feeling. He really didn't know what to think about this newcomer. What was he going to do to Harrison?

"Come now, there's no reason to be frightened," said Corvus calmly and gave him a kind smile, "Let's go inside. Here."

A hand was extended to him, and he hesitated. Could he trust the man? He'd never met him before. And yet, the older man's face was patient. He wasn't pushing Harrison.

Harrison hesitantly put his hand in the offered one, and the man gently tugged him onto his feet. Harrison stumbled slightly and was steadied by a firm grip. Corban gave him a reassuring smile. Harrison gave him a a shaky one in response.

"Very good, child. Now, let's head home," said Corvus, and they started walking.

Corban led the way, and Harrison trailed along next to Corvus. Corvus tried to lay a hand on his shoulder but he flinched away. The older wizard withdrew his hand immediately and instead gave him a reassuring smile.

"No need to fret. Everything is alright, child. I won't let anyone harm you. Corban and I are here," Corvus promised.

He didn't believe him. No adult could be trusted. Even if the man was able to calm his magic down. He could also use his magic against Harrison.

The Dursley had shown him that even without a reason, adults would hurt him. They were cruel, and Hogwarts only reinforced it.

"Master," squeaked Pips, and appeared a few feet in front of him.

"Yes, Pips," responded the blond.

"Healer is waiting. In the living room," the house elf announced.

"Thank you, Pip. Send the healer to the study. We will be there momentarily," instructed Corban.

Harrison considered running away again. He didn't want to speak with a healer. They'd just tell Corban what the Dursleys' did. Then they would punish him for causing them problems. His magic began to pick up again. Both men turned to look at him sensing his rising magic.

Corvus held out his hands showing he wasn't going to hurt him. The air whipped up again and Harrison closed his eyes. He could run. It was what his instincts were telling him to do.

"No, Harrison," spoke Corvus in a steady voice, "You need a checkup. This isn't something we can negotiate. Just so we know you're healthy. By your reactions you've never seen a magical healer right?"

"Just Madame Pompfrey," he admitted taking a small step back.

"We will explain each part and answer any questions," offered Corban, "It's to ensure you're healthy. I promise that you won't be hurt."

Harrison bit his lip and looked between the two wizards. Corvus didn't have an aggressive air, but he was still wary. The healer could tell Corban, and his guardian might react poorly. His magic made the air stir, and a tree cracked and groaned.

"Shh, little one," hushed Corvus, "Can you calm your magic again? Or do you need us to lock it in?"

"What does that mean?" asked Harrison, and the wind picked up.

"You are having a hard time controlling it," stated Corvus in a low tone, "Someone of similar strength can grab your wrists and keep it from escaping. It's called locking in. Understand?"

Slowly he nodded. He was surprised at the explanation. Corvus wasn't demanding anything, just talking. The man didn't seem upset that his magic was acting out.

Harrison stepped forward and he allowed Corvus took take his wrists. They encircled the much smaller wrists and his magic fought against Corvus's magic. The older man didn't falter or react. He kept Harrison's magic locked in but didn't try to force it back.

"Calm," said the older man, "It's alright. Listen to the sound of my voice. Slow breaths. That's the way."

Corvus continued speaking quietly and gently. The man's voice was gentle and reassuring. Harrison breathed in deeply and forced his muscles to loosen. His shoulders relaxed and his arms went slack. As the time passed his magic pulled back and calmed.

"That's better," said Corvus after a moment, and his hold on his wrists loosened.

"I don't want a healer," pleaded Harrison.

"Shh, I know. But, this will help us both understand more about your condition," Corvus murmured, and slowly guided him towards the house, "We need to know and understand it, so that we can help you. I promise, he won't hurt you."

Harrison wasn't convinced. However, the two adults seemed pretty sure of the situation. Harrison followed them into the manor. They made their way up to Corban's study. At the doors he hesitated and was very tempted to run.

"Go ahead," instructed Corban.

Reluctantly, Harrison walked in and Corban and Corvus followed him. There was a young man with mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. If Harrison had to guess he was in his mid to late twenties.

"Good morning, Corban, Corvus," greeted the healer, "Who might this be? I didn't realize you had a child Corban."

"I've recently taken the boy under my care. I have not had a chance to inform the others yet," Corban stated, "Harrison, meet Healer Andrew. Andrew, this is Harrison. I apologize for our tardiness my ward is nervous."

"Well, nice to meet you, Harrison," said the healer with a smile, "You're in good hands."

"Andrew, please explain the check-up and what it entails," requested the blond, "He's never had an official scan so he doesn't know what it entails."

"Sure. The exam is pretty straight forward. A full body scan, which is non-invasive, and will take less than a minute," began the healer, "The scan will allow me to see any illness or injuries you might be suffering from."

"Will I be asleep or awake?" asked Harrison nervously.

"It is a quick process and you can remain conscious if you wish. It shouldn't cause any pain, but there will be a tingling sensation," the man replied, and the healer moved his wand, "There is a longer scan done using a ritual but we shouldn't need that unless there is something the normal scan cannot pick up. Understand?"

Harrison nodded his understanding and stepped closer to the healer. His green eyes remained fixed on the man. He didn't want to be hurt. He hated the medical wing at Hogwarts, and he was not eager for a repeat.

Corban and Corvus stayed close to them, and Harrison's anxiety lowered slightly. The healer waved his wand in a complicated pattern. Harrison didn't have the opportunity to question it. A strange glow encompassed his form and spread through him. It was warm and left him feeling fuzzy.

It ended almost as soon as it began. Harrison shook himself a bit and his gaze was drawn back to the healer. Andrew was frowning and the light from his wand increased. He waved his wand again and parchment appeared.

"I need to do the more extensive exam," the healer declared, and his tone was grim, "Harrison, I need you to come lay down on the couch. Corban here look at the parchment."

He handed the parchment to Corban as Harrison was led to the couch. With a gentle hand he was pressed down to the cushions. He was lying on his back and watched the healer.

"Relax," said the healer, and he placed his wand over his torso, "It won't hurt but it won't be pleasant. Okay?"

"Why do I need a second scan?" He asked quietly.

"I need a deeper scan," replied the healer raising a hand towards his head.

Harrison flinched away from the hand. Andrew paused and looked down at him. The older man smiled gently, and the healer slowly reached down and touched his forehead.

His magic calmed him. It was the oddest thing. It didn't flare up like it did when Corban got too close. It didn't act like when the healer was doing his initial scan.

"You're alright. Breathe, Harrison. Relax," the man murmured, "I'm going to put some runestones on you. They won't hurt but they will feel warm. Okay?"

"O-okay," whispered Harrison, and his gaze drifted over to the older men.

"It's alright," assured Corvus and stepped forward.

"It's best if we do the ritual here," stated the healer, and the other men nodded, "You can sit by his head, Corban. Corvus stay there for the moment."

Corban came so that he sat behind Harrison and ran a hand through his hair. It was the most anyone had ever comforted him. Harry leaned into the touch, and his eyes slipped closed.

Warm stones were then pulled out and placed on him. They were smooth and the heat they emitted was not unpleasant. Harrison sighed and his body relaxed further.

"Good boy, relax," whispered Corban, and his voice was soothing.

He felt the man's hand continue to brush through his hair. A few minutes passed, and he could feel the magic pulsing around him. The room felt alive, and the runes were warm.

"Almost finished," spoke the healer, "A few more moments."

A shiver ran through him as the magic flowed and his mind drifted. The warmth seeped through his body and his bones. His limbs felt heavy and the urge to sleep grew.

"Easy," he heard the healer murmur, and then the world was fading, "Sleep, child."

Harrison obeyed.

...

Corban watched as his ward's breathing evened out. The boy was fast asleep, and Corban couldn't help the fondness that bloomed. The boy was strong, and Corban admired that.

"I've finished the scan," stated the healer and removed the runes and his wand, "Give him a few minutes and he should wake."

"How bad is it?" asked Corvus moving to stand next to the couch.

"The physical damage is significant. Notably the malnutrition. It's worse than I anticipated," answered the man grimacing, "It appears his core was damaged. It's a miracle he's alive and isn't a squib to be honest. This doesn't include the badly healed broken bones and scarring."

"I thought a squib was a wizard or witch born without magic," Corban pointed out, and his eyes lingered on the scars.

"There is also a condition known as magical stunting," Andrew said, and frowned, "In essence the child's magic has been denied access. Like a dam has been put in the way. Its the first step in creating an obscurus."

Both men flinched and looked at the young child. Was he already? The magic they had seen wasn't conducive of an obscurus.

"Is there a chance his magic is still forming an obscurus?" asked Corban uneasily.

The last known obscurus had been apart of Grindelwald's army over 40 years ago. They had not survived.

"If I'm correct, it hasn't yet formed," said the healer and his expression turned grim, "However, he was on the edge. I would say the closest anyone's been since Grindelwald's man."

"What can we do?" asked Corban returning to run his hand through the child's hair.

"Keep him calm," said Andrew but he looked unsure, "Honestly this is above what I know how to handle. I think you should get in contact with Newt Scamander. If anyone could help he would be it. However, this is far beyond anything I can do."

"Newton," questioned Corvus in surprise, "I wasn't aware the magizoologist was back in England."

"He's been back with Mr. Graves for a month," stated Andrew.

"Graves, as in the former Director of Magical Security and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Percival Graves?"

"That would be the one," said the healer and stood.

"Merlin, the war must have changed him. We've hardly seen him," mused the old man, "I suppose it was due. He and Newton were close in the war from what I remember. Do you think Newt would come?"

"They were. However, I wasn't aware," stated Corban and looked up, "But, it might be beneficial. I will reach out. You said he's living with Mr. Graves?"

"He has been," responded the healer, "Poor child. Here, he's coming back around."

Corban glanced down to find glazed green eyes blinking up at him. The boy's eyelids were heavy, and his head lolled against the couch cushion.

"You did well, Harrison," praised Corban and ruffled his hair.

The child let out a hum, and his eyes drooped shut. Corban almost didn't catch the whisper, "Thank you sir."

"Shh, just rest," he assured, and the boy settled once more, "Andrew, is there anything else?"

"Nothing that can't wait," replied Andrew, "I'll get you a list of potions to help him. I'll be back in a few weeks to check in on him. I'll leave the report of his injuries for you on the table."

Once Andrew left, Corban asked, "What do you think, Corvus?"

"I'll contact, Mr. Scamander," murmured Coruvs after a moment, "I have a good relationship with him given him work with magical creatures. I will explain the situation and hopefully we can arrange a meeting."

"Hopefully," muttered Corban, and he glanced down at the boy, "This is far more complicated than I realized. Thank you for coming, Corvus. I owe you."

"Think nothing of it," waved off Corvus, "We have been friends for years. You would do the same. I'll have Pips notify me when the child is up."

"Goodbye, Corvus," Corban responded.

"Farewell, Corban."

Chapter Text

...

A scream startled Corban from his paperwork. Harrison was struggling under the blanket he put on the child. He didn't hesitate to stand and move away from his desk. Harrison fell off the couch with a thump and he threw off the blanket.

Wild green eyes searched the room fearfully. Corban paused when they landed on him without any recognition. His chest tightened at the realization.

"It's okay, child. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you," said the blond as he took a small step forward.

The child didn't move or respond. His entire being was tense and his muscles were coiled ready to bolt. His magic was reacting and the air began to whip around the room. Corban let out his magic and the air slowed and settled.

"It's okay," he continued to soothe, "I'm here to help. Everything is okay. I'm not angry with you."

Green eyes focused on him. Fear and distrust filled his gaze, and the blond winced. Slowly the boy eased and his body relaxed a bit.

"Good. See no reason to worry," the older wizard said, and inched forward, "It's safe here."

The child eyed him warily. He seemed torn between the door and Corban. Then he inched forward and closer to Corban.

"That's right, easy," said the man gently.

Harrison's eyes cleared some as he came out of the nightmare. As the haze faded the blond moved toward the coffee table. He picked up the water glass and offered it to the boy.

"Here, take a drink. I know the checkup can be draining," the man suggested.

"Thank you, sir," murmured the boy as he took the glass.

He took a sip of the water and his shoulders relaxed some. Corban helped him sit back on the couch and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. The child stared blankly at the glass.

"Are you alright, Harrison?" he asked the boy and sat across from him, "Would you like to talk about it?"

Slowly Harrison shook his head. Corban figured he wouldn't want to talk about it. Those who were abused rarely wanted to talk about what was done to them.

"Very well, but know the offer will always be open," Corban told him, and he watched the boy curl into himself, "Why don't you eat a snack? It will help."

Pips appeared with a tray of healthy snacks and placed it on the coffee table. The boy glanced up and took the plate. Corban gave the house elf a nod, and the creature left the two.

"Eat slowly," instructed Corban, "You don't want to get sick."

"Yes sir," replied Harrison softly.

The boy ate slowly and didn't look at the blond. He kept his focus on the food and sipped his water.

"Did Madame Pompfrey ever give you an exam or heal you?" questioned Corban curiously.

"Not really. She only healed minor stuff," admitted the boy, "The biggest thing was her healing my arm after the idiot removed the bones in my arm."

"Excuse me," choked out Corban, "Removed the bones from your arm? Why would she do that?!"

"She didn't," defend Harrison with a shrug, "Lockhart did. He was an idiot."

"He did?" asked Corban.

"Yep," replied the boy, and his lips curled into a grin, "A house elf charmed the bludger to attack me during a Quidditch match. He was trying to get me to leave Hogwarts. The bludger hit my arm breaking it."

A house elf hurt a wizard? That should be impossible but he didn't think the child was lying. He didn't see a reason too.

"What happened?" asked the man curiously.

"Madame Pomfrey fixed my arm," shrugged Harrison as he tried a piece of fruit.

His green eyes lit up. That brought a smile to Corban's face. Dragon fruit, an odd choice but he made note to keep some on hand.

"Are you willing to tell me about your Hogwarts studies?" Asked Corban.

That was a mistake he realized too late. The boy paled and his hand gripped the water glass tightly. He quickly moved and pulled the glass away before the boy crushed it.

"Shh, Harrison," the blond murmured and grabbed the trembling hands, "It's alright. I won't push. You can tell if and when you're ready."

Harrison looked up at him unsurely. Then he nodded and returned to his fruit. After a few minutes of silence Corban returned to his desk. He picked up the healers report on Harrison's health.

The amount of injuries that healed badly or incorrectly were horrifying. Corban had never read something so horrific. Most of the damage was inflicted by muggle means. Though what was magical happened within the last two years. Basilisk venom and Phoenix Tears.

How did no one realize how badly the boy was treated? How did he encounter a basilisk? Where? Dumbledore had a Phoenix so it was possible for him to encounter the creature.

"What does your family do?" Asked Harrison suddenly.

Corban paused and set down his pen. Harrison wasn't looking at him but at the ceiling. He was laying back on the couch apparently haven eaten his fill of the snacks.

"Politics mostly," he answered calmly, "I do occasionally consult with the aurors. Are you interested in learning about the jobs in the Wizarding World? James Potter was an auror and so was his uncle."

"Uncle?" Asked Harrison surprised and turning to face him , "I have family beside my muggle aunt?"

"Not anyone closely related unfortunately," answered Corban smiling sadly, "Mostly second or third cousins. Charlus Potter was killed in during the war. Your grandfather Fleamont was a skilled Potion Master and he passed on a few months before you were born."

"Oh," mumbled the child and looked away, "So no family."

"Blood doesn't make family, Harrison," replied Corban firmly, "Your relatives weren't family. They hurt you, and that isn't okay."

Harrison didn't reply. Instead he turned away from Corban again. The child stared at the window lost in thought. The boy's thoughts were obviously weighing heavily.

"If you're tired you can sleep," Corban told him and returned to his papers.

Harrison didn't reply.

...

"Hello, Corvus," greeted Newton Scamander with a soft smile, "Welcome to Scamander Manor. What brings you to see me?"

"Nice to see you as well, Newt," the elder wizard smiled, and then his expression became serious, "I have a rather delicate matter to discuss."

Newt felt a chill rush into his bones. He knew whatever brought Corvus to his door it must be important. They were friendly but they were far from friends. The last time Newt talked with Corvus was a few years prior. A young hippogriff had been abused and was in need of healing.

Newt didn't do much field work anymore. Age and old injuries had caught up with him and Percival didn't like him going out without backup. Overprotective husband that he was. He was almost as bad as Theseus.

Still for Corvus he didn't mind stepping out of retirement. And what Percival didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Come in," the younger wizard gestured inside.

They moved into the manor, and he led the way towards his private office. It was located a bit farther from the entrance, and he could tell the older man was pleased.

"Can I get you a tea?" He offered politely.

"Please, Newt," said the older man, "Where are your Nifflers today? Aren't they usually running around?"

"Rolf took them with him this afternoon," answered Newt as he poured them both a cup of tea, "I think my grandson will follow in my footsteps. He has a talent for working with creatures."

"And where is Graves? Usually the auror is attached to your side," joked Corvus as he accepted the teacup.

"Ah, he had a meeting with the Minister and then lunch with a friend," he said, and a slight frown crossed his face, "Something about a runaway teenager. Unusual for the aurors to get invol... you know something."

Newt caught the barest flicker in Corvus's face. No one would ever accuse him of being able to read people easily. However he had known Corvus for several decades now. It was hard not to catch that.

Did the missing teenager have something to do with this urgent meeting? Teenagers ran away all the time. Unless they were an heir of a major political family there was no reason for Corvus to be involved. He and the Aurora didn't even get involved when Sirius Black ran away. The Blacks were apart of the Sacred 28. So this didn't make any sense.

"If they are looking for who I think they are, yes I do," admitted Corvus reluctantly.

He was trying to avoid lying to Newt, he realized. Corvus knew how much he despised lies. If you can't tell him something just say so but don't lie to him.

"Corvus," warned Newt, "Either tell me or don't. But if you lie to me I'll throw you out and that will be the end of any partnership we have."

"I need an magical oath," sighed Corvus after a moment and when Newt went to argue he held up a hand, "It's not for my safety but for the safety of the person I'm here about. I trust you, Newt. The situation is delicate however and you may be the only person who can help."

The only person? Surely Corvus was exaggerating? There were plenty of magizoologist now. He only did an occasional consultation now.

"I'm not the only Magizoologist, Corvus," stated the retired magizoologist, "Surelu you can go to someone who's not retied."

"No, not the only. But, the most skilled and knowledgeable. You know more than anyone else alive," countered Corvus, "Besides no one alive has seen what we are suspecting. Healer Andrew was the one who suggested contacting you."

Andrew? But why? That meant whoever they were looking at was human. Andrew didn't work on magical creatures. His expertise was humans.

He tried to get a read on Corvus but his expression gave nothing away. Whatever the older wizard wasn't telling him was vital.

"Alright," Newt finally agreed, "But, no tricks."

"Agreed," responded Corvus.

Corvus took out his wand and muttered an oath. When he finished Newt did the same. Once the oath was cast they sat back down. Tiredly Corvus rubbed at his eyes and Newt waited patiently for the other man to speak.

Finally Corvus began, "A few days ago, I was called to Yaxley manor by the Yaxley family house elf. She said that it was an emergency and I should come as fast as possible."

Corvus then explained everything that happened. From his arrival to finding out that the boy was his friend's ward. He described the boy's reactions and his magic. Right up until the healer arrived. This was where he went silent again.

Newt listened to the entire story and frowned. The child didn't sound healthy mentally. That wasn't good. Mental scars could take a long time to heal.

He was missing something. Sure it was a terrible thing to happen to a child. That didn't explain why he was needed at this point. It sounded like the child needed a good mind healer and time to heal. Not a retired magizoologist.

"Newt," spoke Corvus and his voice was hesitant, "Andrew's findings were concerning. The physical wounds and the malnutrition weren't the worst part. Andrew did the ritual scan to ensure what he thought was wrong was. Harrison's core was damaged."

"Merlin, that's awful. Who could have done such a thing," said the retired wizard in shock, "Whoever his previous guardians were, they need to be taken to Azkaban. Or just given the Kiss."

Newt took a sip of his tea as he considered the words. Maybe they were hoping he had a special cream for scarring. He did, but it wouldn't work as well on a person as it did his creatures.

"We are in agreement there. However the core wasn't the worst," continued Corvus slowly, and a look of dread spread across his face, "Harrison was... no is a breath away from becoming an obscurus."

Newt choked on his tea. Excuse him? Surely they were mistaken. The sheer amount of abuse and mistreatment needed to create an obscurus, it was nearly enough to kill.

Now he understood why Corvus came to Newt. Why he demanded a magical oath to prevent Newt from speaking about what he saw or heard. Merlin, it'd been over fifty years since the last obscurus walked in their midst.

Percy was not going to be happy about his involvement in this. There was no way though that Newt could standby and do nothing. The child was innocent, and he didn't deserve the treatment he received.

"He is?" Newt asked weakly, "There isn't any chance Andrew could be wrong? I'm not calling you a liar, Corvus. There's so little that we know of obscurials."

"His magic is reactive, and his emotional state is poor. Andrew said the closer a child comes the less stable the magic," explained Corvus, "We ask that you look at him and confirm it. You have experience with the obscurus in the past. We are afraid of making things worse. His magic is unstable. He doesn't trust easily and he is very guarded."

Newt was quiet. An obscurus was a dangerous thing. There were no known survivors, and the power could consume him. The power could destroy the wizarding world if used against them.

The memory of Credence still hurt. Newt failed him just as he failed the girl from Sudan. How many did he have to fail?

"You're asking me to treat him and keep him calm," he whispered, "This could go wrong quickly, Corvus. For all we know, my interference could be what sends him over the edge."

"Yes, but I know you will do everything in your power to prevent anything happening," answered the older man, and Newt could feel the weight of his gaze, "Will you help, Newt? Please."

Corvus never begged. That alone was what swayed the magizoologist.

"I'll come," promised Newt, "Just give me a time and a date."

...

Corvus ended up staying an hour before he left. Newt was uncertain what to think of the turn of events. He couldn't just sit aside and ignore the boy's situation. He couldn't leave a child to suffer.

Percival would not approve of him running head first into this. He snorted. He was acting more like a Gryffindor than a Hufflepuff again. Theseus would reprimand him for being so reckless at his age.

Newt could already see his brother's expression and the lecture he'd get. 'You are retired, little brother. You should know better. Let the Aurors deal with the issue. What does your husband say about this?'

Merlin, Newt missed him. Theseus rarely visited anymore since his illness got worse. It was why Newt and Percival returned to England. They wanted to be nearby in case he took a turn for the worse.

Newt's hands shook. He had lost so many friends and family between the three wars in his life. But his brother, that would be the hardest death yet. He didn't want his big brother to leave him.

He shook himself as he slowly rose from the chair. If he was going to help the child he needed to find his journal from the 20s. Who would have thought that old thing would come in handy now?

With a groan, he stood and made his way to the library. Looking at the books, onr could tell which were his and which were Percival's. Most of his books were dog eared and the spine well worn. There was no rhyme or reason to how they were organized either. It drove his husband mad at times. Percival's books were all neat and tidy in comparison.

After an hour of searching he was still no closer to his journals. With a groan, he glanced at the grandfather clock and frowned. Percival would return home within the hour and would not approve of his involvement in this matter.

"Dammit," swore the retired magizoologist as he leaned back on the ladder, "Where did that damn book end up?"

"Need a hand, Newt?" Came a chuckling query startling Newt.

Newt let out a startled shout, and a loud bang echoed around the room as he hit the floor. A string of colorful curses escaped Newt as he rubbed the back of his head. Percival stared down at him unimpressed, and his eyebrow was raised.

"Don't do that," grumbled Newt and his cheeks heated in embarrassment.

"Don't try to climb the ladder like a cat then," his husband pointed out dryly but the amusement shone in his dark eyes.

Newt grumbled under his breath about sneaky retired aurors. He ignored the snicker the auror let out. The auror moved to lend a hand and helped him up.

"You're home early," commented Newt, "How'd the meeting go? Did you find the missing kid?"

Was this all for nothing? Would he even be needed?

"I'm afraid not. The Minister and I weren't able to come up with a solution," Percival replied, and he grimaced, "Apparently Dumbledore is involved so the whole Ministry needs to stick its nose in. They wouldn't even tell me who is missing. Just that he's a half blood living with muggle relatives."

That explained a lot. Newt rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Three for three with the obscurials he dealt with they were all muggle raised. There just wasn't the necessary procedures in place to protect the children. Even now, no one checked muggleborns or half bloods until they get their Hogwarts letters. It was wrong and they should check on children at the first sign of magic.

"What can you tell me about him?" Asked Newt.

"Not much unfortunately. The aurors are in a frenzy because his godfather has broken out of Azkaban," replied Percival.

Newt blinked at him and said, "You must be joking. Percy no one has ever broken out of Azkaban before."

"You're not kidding," stated Percival with a heavy sigh, "We want to find the kid before Black does."

Black... oh Sirius Black. He heard about the black sheep of the Black Family. The boy was a Gryffindor. Even with their travels both he and Percival heard about Black's betrayal of the Potters. Such a shame really.

Newt wondered if he should mention he knew where the child was. That he was safe and not with Black. However the magical oath he took might not take kindly to that. Percival was not going to be happy when he eventually found out. And he would find out at some point.

"What are you looking for Newt?" Askex Percival after a moment of prolonged silence.

"My journals," he answered and returned his attention to the shelf.

"Newt, you have 230," muttered Percival and looked up, "Can't you narrow down the search area? Like by decade. Maybe even by year."

"Late 1920s," mumbled Newt.

"What was that? Newt please don't mumble," requested the former auror, and a frown appeared.

"Late 1920s," Newt repeated.

"The 20's huh," sighed the older wizard, and then a smile formed, "That was still when you were working on the first edition of your book. I think we placed those on the top shelf since you don't usually use them anymore."

"We did?" he asked.

He didn't remember that conversation. Maybe he was just getting old.

"I'm not surprised. You were exhausted when we unpacked them. You were practically asleep on your feet," chuckled Percival.

Percival pulled a step stool over, and he climbed the stairs. Within a few moments the older wizard came down with two thick dusty tombs. He handed the books to Newt, and he set them down.

Newt hesitated when he recognized one journal. It's front was stained with blood. That was the one that went with him to New York. The one that documented his time and encounters with Credence and the girl in Sudan. How things might have been different if he found Credence earlier. If he recognized that Grindelwald was impersonating Percival. Maybe Credence would have survived the war.

"Are you okay, darling," murmured Percival concerned and placing his hands on Newt's shoulders.

Newt gave a small smile as he held up the bloodstained one and said, "This is the one I need. Thank you, Percy."

"Of course," agreed his husband, and kissed his cheek, "So what are you researching?"

"Oh, just a new project," he shrugged.

Percival looked like he wanted to press the subject but instead he asked, "What happened while I was gone?"

"A friend asked for a favor that requires secrecy," admitted Newt.

Though friend might be pushing it when it came to Corvus. They had a mutual respect for one another, but he was not sure if they were close enough to be considered friends.

"A secret favor," asked the ex auror suspiciously.

"Nothing illegal or morally wrong. Just something I am unable to talk about," clarified the redhead.

At least not technically illegal. He was sure that Percival would be able to find something illegal about a possibel obscurial. Especially one that was created due to muggle neglect.

"Alright," said Percival and eyed him, "You'll let me know if that changes?"

"I'm afraid not, dear. There is a magical oath involved," confessed the retired magizoologist.

It had become common for the magizoologist to get called into consult on things that had magical beasts involved. Oaths were not typically involved. He could see the suspicion enter Percival's eyes.

"You are a consultant, not a field agent," argued the auror, and the concern in his tone was unmistakable, "No active cases, Newt."

"This isn't a field assignment," denied Newt, "It's just a different kind of consultation."

As long as the child didn't actually become an obscurial at least.

"I'll ask again. Do you need help?"

"I have it under control," reassured Newt.

"Okay," relented the auror, "I won't interfere unless I feel you are in over your head."

"Thank you," he smiled.

"Don't thank me yet," countered Percival and a wicked smirk graced his lips, "You've forgotten my stubbornness is almost as bad as yours."

"True," agreed Newt and a soft laugh escaped him.

Then he stepped closer to his husband and wrapped his arms around his husband. Percival was his anchor, and he loved him dearly.

"Just promise me you will be careful," asked the older man.

"I will," vowed Newt and his eyes drifted close as the kiss.

Chapter Text

...

Harrison didn't trust people. He hadn't had anyone else he could trust. Aunt Petunia hated him. He knew that she never wanted him. His uncle was the same. Ron and Hermione were the first to try and be his friends and stick around.

Supposedly he was the heart of the Wizarding World. Yet they always sent him back to where he was hated. He was tired of trying to find someone who cared.

Yet Corban was trying harder than anyone else ever had. Sure he was a bit stern, but Harrison could see he didn't mean him harm. He treated the child as though he were precious.

"Here, eat these. Andrew was concerned about your lack of nutrition," instructed Corban holding out a plate of fruit.

Harrison took it with a faint smile. Slowly he was getting used to the snacks that arrived daily. They were becoming more personalized based on what Pips or Bips saw him favoring.

"Thank you, Mr. Yaxley," the young child murmured.

"Corban, Harrison," reminded Corban good naturedly.

"Thank you, Corban," amended Harrison.

Corban didn't comment further, and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was easy for the boy to lose himself in thought. In his lap was a book on Runes he found in the library.

He hadn't noticed that Corban had risen until the man cleared his throat. Tilting his head back to look up at his guardian he raised an eyebrow in question.

"You seemed rather lost in your thoughts," stated Corban, "If I may ask what is weighing on you, would you tell me?"

Harrison gave a silent shrug. Before Corban could say anything else, several owls entered the room. A familiar snowy owl was accompanied by two smaller ones. He extended his arm for Hedwig to land on. She nipped affectionately at his fingers, and the boy laughed.

"Hello, sweet girl," murmured the boy and offered a berry.

On her leg were several letters. He went to remove them when Corban grabbed his arm to stop him. There was a small flinch from him and Hedwig not so gently bit his guardian's fingers.

"Ouch," grumbled Corban, "Calm down. I just don't want him touching them. At least until I'm sure they don't have any curses."

Indignantly Hedwig pecked Corban even harder. Harrison had to hide a snicker behind a hand. The house elf quickly moved and took the letters off the owl. Pips then handed them to Corban.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "Sorry, sir. She wouldn't let anyone give her cursed letters. Even implying that would get you bit."

"I can understand her loyalty," replied Corban as he looked at the letters.

"Yes, she is quite protective," agreed Harrison with a nod.

"Well, you're lucky you have such a loyal owl," commented the blond.

"I know," smiled Harrison, and he turned his focus on his pet, "She's been there since I started Hogwarts. She was the first gift I ever received."

Corban looked at him with something Harrison couldn't identify. He was quiet, and his fingers were white from the force he was using to grip the envelopes. Silently the wizard handed him three. One each from Ron and Hermione. Briefly Harrison considered throwing them into the fire. Another was from Dumbledore.

Of course the Headmaster would send a letter. He probably realized that Harry had not returned. How could he not notice? He was the one who dropped him off. Didn't he care to check in?

"Easy, child," said Corban, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Instantly his anger cooled, and his shoulders relaxed. With a sigh, the wizard ran his fingers through his hair. Harrison flinched a little but relaxed.

"Dumbledore is probably trying to convince you to go back to your relatives," admitted Corban, "With Sirius Black on the run, he'd want you in a protected area."

"Black, why does that name sound familiar," asked Harrison frowning, and his eyebrows drew together.

"He's the wizard who sold the Potters to the Dark Lord," replied the man, "A few weeks ago, he broke out of Azkaban prison. Until now, no one has ever accomplished that. Now everyone is searching for him. Everyone is afraid he will come after you in revenge."

Sirius Black knew his parents? He sold them out? Why?

The hand carding through his hair continued it's motions. It was soothing, and slowly his mind calmed. He felt a numbness spread through him. Was this how his life was from now on? To be feared and hunted?

"Why would he seek me out?" He finally managed to ask, "My mother was the reason I survived. What threat do I pose to him?"

"Revenge maybe?" offered Corban, "I'm not sure. But you ARE safe here. If you want I'll take the letter for you from Dumbledore. Then you can decide what you want to do with the letters from your friends."

"Please, I don't want to deal with him right now," sighed the boy and held out the letter to him.

"Alright," the older man said, and took the letter, "If you need me, just call. I'll be in my office."

Once his guardian was gone, Harrison glanced at the two remaining letters. Would his friend's accept his choice to remain with Corban? Probably not. Ron would be angry that he was with a dark wizard. Even if the man was nothing but kind to him. Hermione might be understanding, and she would research his guardian. However, she'd probably try and get him to return to the Dursleys. Or do whatever it is that Dumbledore wanted.

Harrison had no desire to read their letters. So, he tossed them into the fireplace. He watched them burn silently. Did he feel bad for doing that? No, not at the moment at least. Perhaps later that would change, but not today. Today was about him and not his friends or the headmaster.

...

Albus growled. No one had seen hide or hair of Potter. To make matters worse the tracking spells he tried to put on the letters failed. Something was blocking them from finding the boy.

It shouldn't be possible. Potter wasn't old enough to study wards or know how to set strong enough ones to stop his spells. That meant someone was assisting the Boy Who Lived. Though the real question was who would help him. Surely it wasn't someone within the Light?

This was a disaster. First the escape of Sirius and now his golden boy was missing. It was almost too much. For the first time in a long time Albus didn't have a clue what to do. Without knowing the whereabouts of his pawn he couldn't play the game.

"Damn that brat," swore Albus, "We have to find him and soon. I refuse to allow my plans to fall apart."

Harry had to be there. He had to die at the right time so they could defeat Voldemort. He would find Harry and he would make sure the boy wouldn't try this again.

Chapter Text

...

Harrison looked up when Corban knocked on the doorframe. He was in his bedroom and it was just after breakfast. The boy was reading a book from the library and was in the process of taking notes. There were a few things that caught his attention and he wanted to explore them later.

"Yes, sir," asked the child and tilted his head curiously to the side, "Did you need something?"

"Someone is coming to visit us," stated Corban, and his tone was serious, "They are an expert on a topic we spoke on the other day. He has made a magical oath not to speak or otherwise communicate without our permission what he sees. For your protection."

"Who is it, sir," demanded Harrison, and his body tensed ready to flee.

"Newton Scamander," replied the older wizard, and his expression was soft, "He is a friend of Corvus as well as veteran of the war with Grindelwald and is the only person known to have interacted with not one but two Obscurials. He was the first to see magical creatures as more than just a danger to lives."

"I've heard of him," muttered Harrison trying to remember where and then it hit him, "His book is on our list at Hogwarts."

"Indeed," chuckled Corban and his lips twitched, "Some of his methods are a bit controversial. But his knowledge and experience is not. He won't hurt you."

Harrison wanted to believe him. He did. But years of neglect and pain had taught him not to trust. People always lied. Always. They'd say anything to get what they wanted.

Corban approached slowly and crouched down. Gently he gripped the child's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. The tension faded eased a little. Not completely, but enough that Harrison could breathe.

"You have every right to not trust him. You have had a hard life, and that is not easy to move past. However, I can promise that Newton won't harm you," assured Corban, and his tone was firm but not unkind.

"I'll try to keep an open mind," responded Harrison slowly.

"Good, that's all I can ask," agreed Corban and stood he stood, "Come, let's meet him in the gardens. I think you both will feel better outside."

Corban offered a hand to Harrison. Cautiously, he accepted the offer. Then he was pulled up to his feet and led out by a hand on his shoulder.

...

Newt moved around the gardens taking in the changes since his last visit. Corban favored small magical creatures in his youth. A part of Newt wondered if he still did. There were a lot of plants that the smaller breeds of fairies preferred. Pixies, Doxies and the like.

This morning, he carried his old case with him with a few of his gentler creatures. He hoped that they would allow the child to relax more in his presence. It might not work but then again it just might. People were different from his creatures after all. Percival had said that often enough that the thought stuck. Though his husband was amused when he saw the case coming out. He didn't comment on the retired magizoologists' activities. Nor did he protest. Instead the older wizard kissed his temple and went to the office.

Footsteps were approaching from behind him. He turned to face the newcomers. Corban was leading a young boy. He had messy black hair and bright green eyes. He was short and very thin for his age. If Newt went on height and weight alone he'd have guessed that the child was between 9 and 11.

The child eyed him cautiously. His movements were tense and his muscles were coiled. This was a child ready to run at a moment's notice. Skittish like so many of his creatures. And like them, it would take a careful approach to calm him.

"Hello, Mr. Scamander," greeted Corban warmly, and gestured to his companion, "May I introduce, Harrison Potter."

Oh dear. It was little wonder the Ministry and Dumbledore was so frantic to locate him. The oath made so much sense now. If the public found out that the supposed hero was an Obscurial the consequences would be catastrophic.

What a poor child. No one deserved to suffer such a fate. To live a life of being abused and neglected. Merlin knew how often that happened to magical children in the muggle world.

"Nice to meet you, Harrison," smiled Newt and knelt down to Harrison's level, "My name is Newton Scamander. Feel free to call me Newt. Calling me Newton or Mr. Scamander would make me feel old."

A shy smile crossed the child's features. He didn't speak. Only nodded. Oh yes, the child was skittish. That was fine, Newt could work with that. Most magical creatures were skittish in the beginning of an acquaintance.

Corban seemed to have just realized Newt brought his case with him. He was eyeing the case warily. Suspicion was clear on his face, and the wizard cleared his throat.

"What's in the case, Newt," asked Corban calmly.

Newt gave him a small smile and his gaze was drawn to the child. Curiosity filled those emerald eyes. The suspicion was fading. In its place was a burning curiosity. Good, maybe he could get the boy to open up a little quicker. Children always loved his animals.

"My creatures," explained the magizoologist and held out the handle to Harrison, "Would you like to meet some?"

"Mr. Yaxley?" asked Harrison hesitantly and his grip was tight on the suitcase handle.

"If it's alright with Mr. Scamander," answered Corban with a sigh, "Please tell me you didn't bring your nundu."

"Of course not," snorted Newt and rolled his eyes, "She'd be a terrible way to introduce a child to my creatures. Come on, Harrison. I have the perfect thing to show you. We can leave Corban here and go on our adventure. What do you say?"

Harrison was trying to get a better look at his case without getting any closer. It was rather amusing. So, he laid the case down and opened it. When the child saw the stairs he gasped. Slowly the boy stepped into the case and began his journey to the bottom of the steps.

"I only brought my nifflers, bowtruckles, the occamy, and the diricawl," informed the retired magizoologist, and he smirked, "Nothing to worry about. No nundus. I don't think I could have convinced Percy that getting him out of the habitat at home was a good idea."

"That is a relief," commented Corvin, and his body relaxed, "Thank you Newt. For coming. I wasn't sure how to approach this. Andrew and I both agreed that a professional was needed. But not many people are experts in Obscurials. Plus, we had to consider the risk to the child's safety and the possibility of his power consuming him."

"It was a wise decision," answered Newt easily, "I'll do what I can but Corban. You should be prepared there is a chance that there is nothing I can do."

Corban's expression grew serious. Then a grimace crossed his features. Newt placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Nothing else could be said. They could only wait and hope. It would either work or it would not. Either way, they could not change the facts. Then he turned to his case and began to descend after the child.

Inside his case was a small cabin. Everything was enchanted to fit in the case. The surfaces were all covered in dust since it'd been decades since he used it. Percival kept his case maintained though. As long as the enchantments held up the contents would not decay.

It seemed Harrison had wandered out of the cabin. There was no sign of the raven-haired youth in sight. Newt followed his tracks to the bowtruckle's area. There the boy was laying on the grass staring at the tree branches above. There was a bowtruckle in his hair and Newt smiled softly.

He missed Pickett. His original bowtruckle had passed not long after the Second Great War. He had grown quite fond of the creature. Still, he was happy that it had died peacefully. Not every creature had that luxury. Nor did all wizards and witches.

Newt made his way to the boy and sat beside him. With a glance to the tree the retired wizard spotted several more of his residents. They were observing the child and debating on whether or not to interact with him.

Newt offered one hand to them and slowly a pair of the bowtruckles approached him. Their movements were slow. They weren't sure what to make of the newest arrival. Most had never seen a human except for Newt and Percival. So they were wary of the newcomer.

"They are curious," stated the redhead quietly, "They are also cautious of strangers. It is rare that anyone but my husband and I enter this case. And that has become rarer still the older we became. Now that we are retired, we have even less need to travel."

"Husband?" Asked Harrison and his eyes left the ceiling and landed on the elderly man, "You have a husband?"

"Indeed, he is the love of my life," confirmed the older wizard and a soft smile formed, "We've been married 60 years next summer. We met while working on a case in the States. He was the Director of Magical Security and head of the aurors. Myself? Well, let's just say, I was not the easiest to deal with."

Harrison laughed a little at that. Newt smiled in return. Harrison was relaxing and in turn the bowtruckles were moving from the tree go Newt and them to the child. One was walking on his arm and inspecting the child.

"Hello, Titus," greeted Newt, and he picked up the stick-like creature, "Why don't you introduce yourself to our visitor, hmm?"

The creature stared at the boy before offering a tiny leafy limb to the youngling. Hesitantly, Harrison offered a finger and shook the branch. This sent the bowtruckles into a tizzy and suddenly they were swarming him. All of the creatures were eager to greet the new wizard.

"Oh dear," mumbled the retired magizoologist.

But the child was laughing and greeting each of the bowtruckles by name. The leaves on top of their heads made it easier than most would imagine. When the excitement faded the creatures settled down. Some were perched on the boy. Others were on the ground or on the branches. A few were climbing on Newt.

Tentatively Newt allowed his magic to stretch towards the child. Harrison's magic was in turmoil. Anger and pain were the main feelings from the child's core. However, underneath that was a deep sorrow and a longing.

How could no one have noticed this before now? Or did they and simply chose to ignore it. Sometimes, Newt hated how the Wizarding World worked.

Slowly he released a soothing wave of his magic. All of the creatures relaxed in response but Harrison's magic twitched almost defensively. It was not rejecting the attempt. Instead, it seemed to be unsure of how to react to someone trying to comfort him.

"So," spoke Newt, startling the young wizard, "Do you know why Corban called me to his home, Harrison?"

He nodded but didn't say anything. That was fine, Newt didn't expect the child to open up right away. A couple of the bowtruckles began to pat him gently. They could sense his distress and were attempting to offer some support.

"I've dealt with a lot of different magical beasts," admitted the ex-magizoologist, "So many would be called dangerous in our world. People called me insane for my work 70, 80 years ago. Why would an idiot risk his life to help a beast? That was the question everyone asked. Even my brother tried to convince me to stay in Britian and work with the Ministry. Instead I'd answer that everything deserved protection and to live."

Newt watched Harrison take in his words without looking directly at him. The child was processing his words. His magic was beginning to swirl about them. Giving him time to process, Newt looked towards the next set of enclosures. He thought he could just see a nose of a niffler peaking out of the corner.

"The first time I came in contact with an Obscurial was in Sudan. It was a little girl. Her name was Nadia and she was from a nomadic tribe. She was so small and scared," sighed Newt and his body sagged but he could see he had Harrison's full attention, "I couldn't save her. I tried to separate the obscurus from the child and it failed. I kept it in this very case studying it in a protective shield until it faded in the 50s. Afew years later in New York, I met a second obscurus. This time a young man who against the odds made it to 20. Officially he was the first acknowledged Obscurus in hundreds of years."

"He's dead too, isn't he?" whispered the child and his voice cracked.

"Unfortunately yes," replied Newt sadly, and a sigh escaped him, "Grindelwald got to him before I could help him. Well the Ministry didn't help things by banning me from traveling."

His gaze moved from the child to the sky. The illusion was so realistic. There were even clouds that could rain. It was beautiful, and a pang of sadness hit him. How could people not want to preserve the beauty of nature? Especially, when the Wizarding World had so much to benefit from their study?

"Can an obscurus survive to adulthood," asked the boy cautiously.

"Most cases I have studied suggest no," answered the retired magizoologist, and a sad smile appeared on his face, "There's just not enough research to know however. We want to prevent an obscurus forming if at all possible. Most don't make it to their 11th birthday. From my understanding, you are on the cusp. Not quite an obscurus but not quite a wizard either. You are somewhere in-between. I want to help you, if you will let me."

Harrison's magic continued it's swirling a darkness began to seep in. The power was pressing on the surrounding areas. The bowtruckles retreated to the trees. Their faces were scrunched up in discomfort and fear. Even the nifflers disappeared from his line of sight.

"Shhhh," soothed Newt, and he pushed his magic out, "It's okay. Take a deep breath. I won't hurt you."

Harrison shook his head vigorously and put space between them. Fear was pouring off the child. Of what? Wasn't clear. But something had scared the boy badly.

Newt pulled himself back and tried to make himself smaller. Harrison was watching him warily. A whimper escaped the child and Newt thought he could see something flicker across the boy's arm. Was that a shadow? Or was it his imagination?

Before Newt could say anything however the child bolted. Damn it.

Chapter Text

...

Harrison didn't know where he was going. He couldn't hear Mr. Scamander calling him. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions. Fear, anger, and panic were the three most prominent. Each vied for control.

If he was what they were claiming he was. Then he would die. No one would care about him. If they did, they wouldn't have kept sending him back to his Aunt and Uncle. They wouldn't have left him to suffer at the Dursleys' hands.

By magic, he was tired. What did he ever do to deserve this treatment?

His knees hit the dirt outside of the case and he gagged. The bile burned his throat and tears fell. Everything was hurting. Magic crackled in the air and his skin crawled.

He couldn't breathe. All he knew was the pain. He was dying, and no one was here to save him. Did anyone even know where he was?

"Hey, hey, it's ok, you're safe," said a familiar voice and then there was a hand on his shoulder, "Easy, you..."

"Don't touch me!" He shouted.

His magic exploded. Glass shattered and wood splintered. The force of it caused the person to release him. He heard a thump and a grunt. Shadows began to encased him.

Everything went cold and something wrapped around him. Darkness was everywhere and the sounds of the world were muffled. For a moment, he panicked and struggled. Then the shadows held him tighter and the world was fading away. He could no longer think, nor did he struggle. Only rested in the embrace of the shadows.

...

Corban sat up holding his ribs. Merlin's tits that hurt. When the child had run, he was quick to follow. Yet in the gardens, he found the child curled in a ball. He was shaking and crying. The older wizard was concerned and approached the child to help. However, the minute he touched the kid, his magic exploded. It was a miracle that his shields took the majority of the blow. Otherwise, he'd probably have been sent through a wall.

The child was still shaking. Though the tears had stopped falling. A layer of sweat was covering him. Slowly, the older wizard stood and made his way to the raven-haired youth. He didn't dare reach out again. Instead, he knelt beside the child and spoke softly to him.

They were just nonsense words to calm him. Newt appeared at the entrance of his case and Corban held up a hand. The movement was enough to halt the magizoologist. With a nod, the ginger backed away and out of sight.

Around Harrison the shadows were still light barely there. It was the closest thing to a shade as he'd seen in a long time. If this was a true Obscurus, Corban couldn't be sure. Still, he wasn't about to risk the boy's safety by provoking it l. He continued to speak slowly and reassuringly. Until the shadow was gone. Leaving behind the trembling form of the raven haired boy.

Corban reached forward and placed his hand on the back of the child. With a gentle motion, he pulled the boy into his lap. Harrison buried his face in his shirt. The wizard didn't comment. Only allowed the child to do whatever was necessary to calm himself.

Newt reappeared and was watching them now. His movements were slow. Clearly, the older man didn't want to spook the boy. Once in range, the magizoologist crouched down. Then Newt ran his fingers through the raven's hair. He flinched hard and curled further against Corban.

"Was that?" Asked Corban not quite able to form the word.

"His obscurus," confirmed Newt quietly, "I don't know if it's a full blown obscurus. I've never seen anything like it. But it was definitely an Obscural. At least, partially."

"Will you still help him?" asked Corban hesitantly, "You're the only expert in the world on these. You're our best hope at helping him."

"I'll do what I can," agreed the ex-magizoologist, and a sad smile formed, "But we have to keep him calm. The more incidents like this that happen. The worse it'll get. And... I don't think he should return to Hogwarts."

"We can discuss that later," murmured the blond, and his arms tightened around the boy, "For now, I'm taking him to his room to rest. Are you injured?"

"No, my wards took the brunt of the attack," replied the older man, and his eyes were drawn to his bleeding knuckles, "What about you? You were thrown pretty far."

"Cracked ribs," admitted Corban and grimaced.

"That will need to be healed," stated the retired magizoologist, and his tone was firm, "I'll get the potions while you get him settled."

With that, the redhead was gone. Taking a deep breath, the wizard lifted the boy. He was way too light to be almost thirteen years old. Shaking his head, he made his way to the bedroom. Pips used magic to open the door for him. They laid the boy on the bed and the house elf cleaned the boy up magically. After a few moments, Newt entered the room with several potions. He handed one to Corban for his ribs then magically gave the others to Harrison.

When he finished, the two wizards left the child to sleep and heal. Corban knew that Pips would watch over him and alert them if they were needed. So, he lead Newt to his office and poured them both a glass of scotch. Both of them drank in silence. Each were trying to process the events of the morning.

"You should let me tell, Percival," said Newt bluntly after a moment, "He can calm magic in ways like I can calm creatures. It could help the boy to learn to control the power within him."

"He has ties to the Ministry, Newt," argued Corban.

"No more than I do," shot back Newt, "Trust me."

Corban didn't like the idea of bringing anyone else into this. Especially not someone who had so many connections to the Ministry of Magic. However, the ex-Magizoologist had a point. Percival Graves had an innate ability to calm people and get them to trust him. That was why MACUSA had him in charge of Magical Security and the DMLE. Still if they could prevent this from getting any worse...

"He has to sign a secrecy contract before he's told anything," demanded Corban.

"Understood," agreed the redhead.

Chapter Text

...

Percival had a sense of foreboding when he saw his husband waiting for him in the kitchen. Newt was sitting at the counter, the journal he'd been looking for previously open in front of him. There were notes on the pages, and his glasses were on his forehead. The wrinkles in his forehead showed he was thinking hard about something. What was making him so tense was not clear. But it was worrisome.

Slowly he approached Newt and wrapped his arms around him. The younger wizard leaned back into him. Looking down at the book he found that it was open on Newt's notes on Credence and obscurials. That was odd even for Newt.

"Newt," he started but didn't get very far.

"I fear history is repeating itself, Percy," whispered Newt.

Percival was many things but stupid wasn't one of them. In an instant, the director was moving, and his wand was out. Before his husband could protest the spells to detect an unwelcome guest were cast. There wasn't any. None of their usual protections had been triggered either. That allowed him to breathe a little easier. However, the unease remained. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" Asked Percival in a firm voice, "Who did you see today?"

Newt pulled out a stack of papers. A secrecy contract he realized immediately. It was a high-level contract. Something similar to what the Ministries would give to those looking to become Unspeakables. Whoever wanted his assistance really did not want the information to get out. Percival met his husband's gaze evenly. Newt's expression was serious and his jaw was set stubbornly. Percival dropped into the chair next to Newt considering him.

"Percy," started the younger wizard, and his tone was soft, "This is important. I would not ask otherwise. Please."

A sigh escaped him, and the Director shook his head. Trust his husband to find trouble wherever he went. He thought that retirement would keep Newt out of trouble. Apparently not. Still, it wasn't surprising. Newt had a way of attracting chaos. Or perhaps the better word was finding the chaos through whatever creature needed rescuing.

"Only because it's you," mumbled the older man and signed the contract.

Once the paper was folded and put away, Newt let out a breath. He made them a cup of tea and coffee respectively. There was a faint trembling in Newt's hands. Whatever happened had clearly shaken him. It took a lot to shake Newt since Grindelwald was imprisoned. So, Percival could not imagine what could have brought this reaction from him.

"Don't tell me you stumbled into a war," he attempted to joke.

That earned him a small smile as Newt put the cup down in front of him. Carefully, the redhead sat and considered him. It was like watching the gears in his mind work. Percival waited patiently and sipped at his drink. Rushing Newt never helped anyone. Nor did it make things go faster. It took him quite a long time to understand that. When his husband first returned to America after Percival recovered from his imprisonment he went to meet the magizoologist at the docks. He wasn't exactly happy at the time to learn that Newt brought his creatures which led to an argument then understanding. It took him time to learn when to push and when to wait for Newt to come to him. This was one of those times that he had to wait. Eventually, the younger wizard was ready to talk and did.

"Do you remember Credence?" asked Newt finally.

Oh yes. That was one of the few things Percival regretted from his career. If he'd listened to Goldstein when they first encountered the boy things could've been so different. The war may have gone completely different if he'd attempted to help Credence before Grindelwald got his claws into the boy. Yet there was nothing to be done now. Just to remember his mistakes and do his best to ensure they were never repeated.

Newt knew all of this. So why was he asking if Percival remembered Credence. It didn't make sense. Newt met his gaze and nodded. He could see the truth in his husband's eye. Someone was showing the symptoms of an Obscurus. Percival rubbed at his eyes before he took a sip of his coffee. Merlin that was not a pleasant thought. A young child then.

"Oh yes, I remember," stated Percival, and his grip tightened on his mug, "Don't tell me..."

"Yes, I am afraid so," answered the ex-magizoologist, and his tone was grim, "Or he's well on his way to it. I don't know what to call him. Not a full obscurial but its close. I think today was the first time it came out. If so we're in luck. Most don't live past ten or eleven. This child is twelve and will start his third year at Hogwarts in the fall."

"Have you told anyone else?" Demanded the Director of the DMLE.

"No," replied Newt quickly, and his face was pained, "I gave my word not to mention this to anyone. That's why you had to sign the secrecy contract."

"Of course," muttered Percival and his fingers were pinching the bridge of his nose, "Who is the poor kid?"

Newt was quiet and his lips were pursed. He wouldn't meet Percival's gaze now. Instead, the magizoologist was staring at his teacup. His husband was acting strangely. Like the time he tried to sneak a baby dragon into the house. Twice. Or the nundu cub. Or the runespoor. There were several occasions that he had acted in such a manner. They both had the scars to prove the recklessness of his husband.

"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander," warned Percival firmly, "Answer the question. Who is the boy?"

"Harry Potter," admitted Newt.

Oh for fuck's sake. Of course it was.

...

A hand was carding through his hair. Slowly the world was coming to focus. Everything hurt. Though Harrison couldn't figure out why. What happened? Where was he? He tried to sit up. But the hand moved from his hair to his chest. Gently it pushed him back down and he realized that he was laying on a bed. One that smelled familiar.

"Easy," whispered a voice, and his vision began to clear, "You had a rough morning. You should rest some more."

"Sir?" murmured the boy and his head was pounding.

His guardian was sitting on the bed. He'd been the one to run his fingers through his hair. Now he was helping him lay back in the pillows. His headache made everything fuzzy and he couldn't remember what happened. All he knew was that Mr. Scamander had come to talk to him. Then he woke up in his bedroom.

"I need you to drink this potion, Harrison," instructed Corban helping him sit up, "It will help with the pain and calm your magic. Okay?"

"Okay," agreed Harrison quietly and the vial was placed to his lips.

Slowly he drank the contents. Then the glass was removed and he was eased into laying back. The hand returned to carding through his hair. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. He felt tired and drained as the potion forced him into a relaxed state. Sleep was pulling at his mind and the wizard allowed it to drag him under once more.