Harry leaned forward, studying the face of a man with brown hair and a small scar above his eyebrow. The man returned his stare with an apparent vacantness. There was the impression that nothing lay behind his eyes— probably because what once resided there had been shattered beyond repair.
Harry stood up. "No doubt about it. This is Avery Jr."
The St. Mungo's Mental Ward by design was devoid of color. The walls were white, as were the sheets, the mattresses on the beds, and even the foot and headboards had been coated in white paint. Avery's skin was pale from a lack of light, bringing its shade in line with the theme of the room. Behind Harry, Dumbledore and James lingered by the door.
Harry took one last look at the room's brightest flash of color — food stains down a bib tucked into Avery's collar — and turned to the men with him.
"He's from the same place that I am," Harry confirmed. "It's the missing man."
James nodded. He didn't look surprised, but perhaps a tad relieved.
"There was a mix up with the paperwork that made the trail hard to track," James said. "I tracked down the one in charge of filing it, an Auror by the name of Savage. He says he forgot."
"That sounds like him," Harry muttered ruefully, shaking his head. "The rest of our travelers are in Azkaban?"
"Under lock and key. The jury's verdict was that they were either faking amnesia to get out of their punishment, or that something down in the Department of Mysteries fried them. Either way they'd be guilty."
Harry nodded. He gave Avery another glance, then left the room. Dumbledore and James went after him, the trio passing nurses in the sterile halls on their way to the street below.
Since the hospital was located in a Muggle part of London (hidden behind the exterior of a vacant department store) they joined a throng of bodies as they stepped outside, assimilating into the morning commute for about a block. They shortly hung a right into a conspicuously clean and empty alley. None of the Muggles noticed them, nor even seemed aware of the alley's existence. Enchantments courtesy of St. Mungo's ensured the privacy of anyone Apparating in or out at all hours.
James checked his watch. "Wizengamot's session starts in twenty minutes. I'll be on my way, then."
"Tell Amelia thanks for arranging this," Harry said.
While Avery might be a patient, he was still under watch by the Ministry. A list was kept of all guests who came to see him. Needless to say, the Ministry was bound to notice a sudden visit by Albus Dumbledore and one of his closest associates, James Potter. It was Amelia who arranged for the records not to be taken today, giving the trio a chance to slip in.
James' lips tilted up, approaching a smirk. "I think she would prefer to hear it from you, actually."
Harry developed a sudden cough that was, of course, completely coincidental. Satisfied with seeing Harry unbalanced, James Apparated out, leaving Harry under Dumbledore's amused eye.
"Shall we expect Amelia at the next Order meeting?" Dumbledore asked. "I don't believe I've ever set a rule against bringing dates."
"That's probably a step too far," Harry said, treating the offer as if it was serious, to pretend he wasn't being made fun of. "She's come around to us after the attack, but she's a Ministry witch to her core. Turning a blind eye is one thing. Coordinating with the Order is on the table. But joining the vigilantes? It isn't her style."
"Amelia has a great affinity for laws and regulation," Dumbledore said. "To her credit, she upholds them beautifully. That's more than can be said of many who share her opinion."
Harry's brain flashed to Scrimgeour, the Head Auror whose first instinct was to pin the crime on the Minister's political opponents. The accepted story now, two days after the attack, placed the blame on Bellatrix Lestrange, though the Ministry insisted that she was acting on her own.
How she escaped Azkaban remained a mystery. Harry had doubts the Ministry would've admitted she was on the loose at all, were it not for Amelia's adamant testimony about who she dueled. Any remaining opportunity for a cover-up was blown away when the story leaked to the Prophet barely a day later. Penelope Clearwater's front-page article came complete with a photo of Amelia Bones posed with a stately eye patch.
Thinking of Amelia's wound turned Harry's thoughts to other magical damage. Specifically, the kind he had inflicted.
"Avery's brain is more scrambled than an egg," Harry said. "He needs help to eat. At that point, I should have just killed him. It would've been easier than what I chose."
Dumbledore didn't answer promptly. First, the headmaster dug his bony fingers into the collar of his dignified magenta robes. He was on his way to an ICW meeting that afternoon, which explained his nicer-than-usual outfit and exquisitely combed beard.
"If you were to ask my personal opinion, I believe that you chose correctly," Dumbledore said. "At the very least, no matter what mistakes you might've made, you did as I would have done."
Harry stayed silent, allowing Dumbledore to go on, because it was clear the headmaster wasn't finished.
"Leaving those men in good health would have led to the loss of other lives— indeed, I'm sure you never considered that option. Your alternatives were then limited. Truthfully, I see just two options. Kill them as they lay defenseless before you… Or wipe their minds. Avery will not recover, but he was only one of his group. There are ten others who have been granted a second chance. That alone is powerful."
"They might not take it," Harry said.
"That is the beautiful thing about chances," Dumbledore said. "They're never guaranteed. But so much good can be done by one who turns over a new leaf."
He smiled, aware that Harry knew his past as well as he knew Harry's. Dumbledore himself was evidence of his point. He made mistakes in his youth that he was still trying to make up for, being better each day as they came.
"It's great when it works. But some people have no interest in changing," Harry had to say. "If you give them an inch, they'll run wild for a mile."
Dumbledore inclined his head a bit to the side, acknowledging the point. "As with all important things, it's necessary to execute your best judgment. I only meant to say that you gave those men a chance when you could have taken everything, and for that, you have my respect."
Harry smiled. Dumbledore would be the first to tell you he hadn't always gotten it right. Rescuing Umbrifdge from the centaurs only gave her a chance to terrorize Muggle-borns. The Dursleys never really mended their ways, even if fear made them behave a bit better as time passed. But other examples, from Snape to Draco, were crucial to winning the war.
As Dumbledore said, no one solution could fit every person. It took judgement and, often as not, luck. Harry didn't completely agree with the headmaster… But he could at least say that he thought more of the man, on account of his compassion.
Harry's watch whistled at him, an enchantment going off to remind him that he had somewhere to be. It was five till eight in the morning, and he had a Quidditch pitch to get to.
"Today is the day," Dumbledore said.
"Yeah…" Harry smiled, recalling the preparation his class had put in over multiple weeks. "It's what they've been waiting for."
Dumbledore smiled even as he removed a white shoelace from his pocket. Harry took its pair out of his own pocket. Only the headmaster could create Portkeys into Hogwarts, so Dumbledore had created both when arranging his travel plans to the ICW. Due to coalition regulations, his Portkey would bring him to England's south shore, where an enchanted ship would take him the rest of the way.
It was a touch grandiose, in Harry's opinion, but Harry had been around politics long enough to know how much of a role showmanship played. Leaders arriving on ships that sailed straight out of the waves, a la Durmstrang's method of transport, left a much stronger impression on the assembled press.
"See you this evening," Harry said.
"With luck," Dumbledore said, perhaps a bit morosely, yet with a twinkle in his eye. "You may be heavily underestimating representatives' ability to speak at length."
Harry smiled at him. He said, "Butterbeer!" at the same time that Dumbledore stated, "Lemon drops."
Their Portkeys whisked them in opposite directions— south for Dumbledore, north for Harry.
Only a handful of minutes later, Harry was striding beneath the hoops of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, approaching a group of students with a smattering of adults surrounding them. Conversation buzzed in the air, raised voices reaching him before he got close.
"Eyes over here, everyone!" Harry announced, amplifying his voice as he approached. "Students, find your groups! Chaperones, gather around me, if you would! We'll introduce you as a group."
The students scattered, breaking apart from their friends to find their teammates for the day. Meanwhile, six people approached Harry.
"Ah, it feels nostalgic being back! Not that I was ever in the air here, mind you. My boots were firmly rooted on those stands," said Sirius Black, gesturing at the seating that surrounded the pitch. "I was the number one fan, though. Just ask Remus!"
"It's quaint that you think that," Remus said. "Unfortunately, that title was definitely mine."
"No chance! You barely cheered!"
Remus thumped his chest. "It's not about the noise that you make, Sirius. It's about what you carry in here."
Sirius made a face like he was smelling curdled milk, his disgust only becoming more apparent when the woman next to him chimed in.
"He's got a point, cousin dearest," Tonks said.
"Don't you start. You're only trying to wind me up," Sirius said.
"Please, let's focus," said a pretty witch with slightly dark skin. As usual, Hestia Jones was the first to play peacemaker. "Harry is waiting for us to settle down!"
In addition to these four, Filius Flitwick and Aurora Sinistra were there as volunteers from the staff. Hestia's chiding worked long enough for Harry to step forward, pulling the students attention onto himself.
"Meet your chaperones for the day," Harry said. "Those of you going to a sporting match, you'll be with Sirius and Remus here. Say hi, you two."
Sirius dramatically lifted his hand toward the sky. "You, lucky students, are receiving a full day of mentorship from yours truly! Please, don't clap too loudly."
"Remus Lupin," Remus introduced himself in a mild voice. His introduction was as different from his friend's as possible. "And this is Sirius Black."
Harry introduced the chaperones to their groups one at a time after that. Tonks was handling the all-girl shopping group. Flitwick was taking the tourist group sightseeing. Finally, Aurora would be heading to the library while Hestia went to the movies.
"Everyone remember, your chaperones are in possession of Portkeys that can take you straight to Hogsmeade!" Harry said. "These are only to be activated in emergencies— and no, feeling overwhelmed does not qualify. If the Muggle world starts to seem like too much, ask for support and do your best to push through. The chaperones have also been given Portkeys that will take you to another group, so that if anything happens to your Hogsmeade Portkey, you still have a way to reach help. Is that clear?"
"Yes," his students chimed, some of them throwing a 'Professor' onto the end. Harry looked around until he was satisfied with what he saw.
"Perfect. I'll be bouncing between groups all day, checking in. If you have a question your chaperone can't answer, maybe I'll be able to. Is everyone here?"
Each of the groups nodded.
"Amazing!" Harry grinned. "Let's get out there!"
O-O-O
Within the first ten minutes of Harry accompanying them Ernie Macmillan was almost run over by a lorry.
It was up to Harry to pull him back by the scruff of his shirt, stopping him from crossing the busy street too soon. Ernie stared at where he'd tried to walk as thousands of pounds of metal rushed past with a blare of its horn.
"Good catch!" Flitwick squeaked. "Please be a bit more aware, Mr. Macmillan! It's helpful to stay on your toes. I would know!"
The diminutive man chuckled at his height joke. He was wearing a Muggle suit complete with coattails, perfectly tailored to his small body. He certainly earned some looks as the group moved through the city.
In addition Ernie, Flitwick's group consisted of Steven Cornfoot, Oliver Rivers, and Sophie Roper. All three were quiet students who tended to sit near the back of the room and keep to themselves. While Sophie was in Gryffindor, the boys were both Hufflepuffs, just like Ernie. All three of them were looking at the crosswalk with trepidation after Ernie's near-miss. It took Harry stepping out to convince them that their turn had come.
When they walked across the street, their heads were on a swivel, staring at cars up close and craning their necks to look up at the tall buildings around them. After a short walk, they reached Westminster Bridge. The closer they came to Big Ben at the end, the further that the kids leaned back.
"It's as tall as Hogwarts!" Sophie said.
"Looks as old, too," Ernie said.
"Not even close, actually," said Harry. "Hogwarts has it beat by about five times. But Big Ben doesn't have enchantments to help keep its luster."
"Can we go to the base of it?" Steven asked.
Harry allowed Flitwick, their actual chaperone, to answer the question, which he did with an excited squeak. "Of course! I only have one request for the day. A trip to the top of the Tower Bridge!"
The students were excited by the idea, with Steven and Oliver whispering to each other and the other two's eyes lighting up. Harry lagged behind the students and walked alongside Flitwick's short steps, giving his coworker an amused look. "The Tower Bridge? Really?"
Flitwick gave him an almost uncharacteristically serious look.
"A man must enjoy great heights where he can," Flitwick said. "Particularly when he has little of his own!"
O-O-O
Harry left Flitwick's group in the shadow of Big Ben, Apparating from a public toilet in the area to a department store across London. When he tracked down his next batch of students, he was slightly befuddled by how much they'd accomplished.
Parvati already had a bag filled with Muggle clothing and was waiting outside the changing room, acting as the judge to an impromptu fashion Lavender was putting on. Harry saw more bags sitting next to the changing room, presumably belonging to the blonde. He hadn't seen Tonks yet, but Hannah was not far away sifting through a rack of sweaters at a more sane rate.
"Professor!" Parvati said. "This place is the best!"
"The best!" Lavender agreed, her voice coming from behind the curtain.
"Glad you like it. Where's Tonks?" Harry asked, walking over to Parvati.
"Oh, somewhere in the store. She showed us how to get started and wandered off! I think she's trying on a shirt that Lavender recommended." Parvati tapped her lower lip. "I'm sure she'll turn up soon."
Lavender pulled back the curtain and emerged in a blouse. At some point, Parvati casually handed her bags off to Harry in order to inspect Lavender's outfit. The blonde struck poses for her friend to get all of the angles. Eventually, Parvati lifted her head. "Hannah, come here and tell me what you think!"
Hannah meandered over. On her way past Harry, the sweaters she picked out were added to what Parvati had handed him. Harry looked down at his burden, slightly bemused.
"It's perfect!" Parvati declared, finishing her inspection. Next to her, Hannah nodded seriously. Lavender grinned, ducking back into the changing room and bringing her bags.
When she came out, she chirped, "Hi, professor!" and passed her bags into Harry's remaining hand.
He wasn't out of shape, but his shoulders were beginning to protest already. "You guys know I'll be moving onto the next group soon—"
"Oh, you're here."
Harry turned around in time to find Tonks had returned, fresh off raiding the shoe section.
"Muggle stores are my favorite," she said. "Dad turned me onto them. I'll bet he wishes he hadn't after all the hours we've spent in different ones."
You could tell Tonks was comfortable in the Muggle world just from her outfit. Her jeans fit perfectly and she was wearing a blue jacket open over a yellow shirt, the shades of the jacket and jeans matching perfectly.
Before Harry could get a word out, Tonks had passed bags filled with shoes over to him. He exhaled sharply as the weight almost dragged him down.
"You'll come with us to the next store, won't you professor?" Parvati asked, her eyes wide and pleading.
The others gave him similar looks, even Tonks, and Harry found that he didn't have it in him to say no.
"Sure," Harry said. "I can stick around that long."
Parvati beamed. The girls had gotten ahold of a surprising amount of Muggle money in preparation, paying for what they'd picked out without issue. Somewhere between the register and the front door, Harry gave in to his aching arms.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused on his magic and cast a primitive Lightening Charm. So long as he didn't draw his wand, there was nothing conspicuous about it. Walking beside him, Tonks noticed the way his posture suddenly became less slouched.
When they got to their next stop — another department store that seemed different only in name — Harry set the bags down by the door.
"I'll take my leave here," he said. "This isn't the last you'll see of me. I'll swing around again later in the day."
"Bye!" chimed the girls.
Harry went around the side of the store, looking for a place without prying eyes to leave from. Before turning the corner, he caught a glimpse of Lavender and Parvati grabbing their bags and pulling them into the air.
"It really is lighter!" Lavender said.
Tonks picked up her bag easily using just one hand.
"Told you he could do it," Tonks said. "I bet it wasn't even hard for him. He just needed the right push.
It was only then that Harry Potter, ace Auror, considered that he might have been played.
"Cheeky," he muttered, smiling wryly as he Apparated to the next group.