26

Chapter 25: Humpty Dumpty

Harry opened his eye trying to figure out just where he was. And for that matter, trying to figure out what exactly had happened last night.

The last thing he clearly remembered was being at Snow White and Prince Charming's house—yeah, that still sounded weird—and talking to Henry.

The kid wasn't as bad as Harry initially thought he was going to be. He really did seem bad about upsetting Harry, though he could tell by the way Henry was acting he was surprised Harry didn't know everything.

Harry was surprised too.

They really should've told him.

Though to be fair, he sort of understood why they didn't. It was hard to accept the whole thing, and there had been a lot of stuff going on.

But still, they knew how hard it was for them to trust. He hadn't exactly slipped out everything about what happened at the Dursleys to them, but they knew his childhood hadn't been nurturing (as evidence by the fact that Belle casually mentioned that he might want to talk to someone).

Harry rolled his eyes. Therapy was not his idea of fun. He hadn't actually been to a shrink, but he saw enough shows on the telly to sort of indicate to him that it would be a waste of his time. And really, how were they going to help with his issues?

If he mentioned the truth, he'd probably get a one-way ticket to the funny farm. That's how ludicrous everything was.

Especially now with this fairytale business.

Harry wanted to dive into the book, but he didn't get the chance since the Charmings had dinner ready.

The fajitas were pretty good. Not as fancy as the meals that Gold and Regina would make—yes, Gold cooked Belle was notorious for not knowing how to use the appliances correctly—but still tasty.

And so normal.

He really did like both David and Mary Margret.

Which kind of made him feel like he was betraying Regina.

Harry knew he shouldn't feel this way. Regina had done some horrible things. He knew the story of Snow White. Then again, he had a feeling he didn't know the whole story since Regina just didn't seem like she'd try to kill someone because they were prettier than her.

He had the feeling that that wasn't the reason at all behind Regina's actions.

Just like he couldn't picture his father selling babies.

There'd be too many risks, Harry thought inwardly rolling his eyes at the Gold-ism.

Really, Rumpelstiltskin?

He had a hard time processing the man as an all powerful sorcerer as it was. After all, the man an affinity for coffee. Sorcerers weren't dependent on caffeine.

Well, he never saw Dumbledore drinking coffee.

Harry didn't even want to think about school at this point in time. Gold had all but said he wasn't going back to Hogwarts. In fact, he insulted just about every professor Harry had—though McGonogall's essay topics had been deemed adequate enough despite being flawed they incorporated those wretched wands.

Gold's words, not Harry's. Though it was somewhat liberating, he admitted, to not worry about your wand breaking or leaving in the common room after a round of Exploding Snap.

Being dependent on something was never good, that was something Harry learned very early on.

Maybe he had been growing too soft. The idea of a family seemed so new to him, and he wanted to trust Regina, Gold, and Belle. And a part of him did, even with the weirdo we have to pretend Belle is your mother charade. Which Harry really didn't get or like.

Belle was way too pretty to be his mum.

The point was, he depended on the situation way too much the past few weeks he had been around them and now where it had gotten him—dealing with the fact he was related to fairytale characters.

He was thinking all of this, when David mentioned he had to take Henry to see Regina. Harry gulped, he knew by now Belle, Gold, and Regina would probably all be looking for him.

A part of him felt bad, but then again, he really did not think he could deal with it. And he still didn't know if he could face them yet, not until he looked at the book.

Maybe there would be some answers there.

He snuck out. He remembered that much. He remembered how easy it was to just sneak out when Mary Margret told Henry to pack extra socks and David was finishing up with the dishes.

So, freaking normal albeit a little boring.

Dinner at Gold's never ended like that. Dishes and leftovers, all it took was a wave of Gold's hand and they were done. If Harry needed an extra pair of socks, he'd be told to zap them right up.

Also, with all the wards on that house (and the creaky stairs) he probably wouldn't have made such a quick getaway like he was with the Charmings.

Harry sighed heavily after he had walked away from their home. He didn't know what he was going to do.

He remembered at that point thinking maybe it would be a good idea to walk back towards the beach. Halfway there, he remembered how dumb of an idea that was.

You couldn't sleep in the beach.

Too much sand.

And what if the high tide pulled him out to sea that would not be good. So, Harry decided to find himself a park.

He had slept at a park before back when he was at the Dursleys. It was one of the few times that he ever burnt dinner—he had been five. A night of sleeping under the tree, made him always keep an eye on the oven that was for sure.

He could totally do it. He was eleven now anyway.

The only thing was he didn't know where the was a park and he just started to walk around aimlessly for a while.

Until he saw it.

Clear across the street. There it was. A nice green space where Harry was sure there would be a nice tree to sleep under. He could pretend he was Tarzan but with clothes and no apes.

Hell, in this town he might come across Tarzan.

He wondered if his sister or father ticked off Tarzan.

Probably.

He checked the street both ways (because he did watch public television, which told him to check it—contrary to what Aunt Petunia said) and started walking towards the park.

When he was hit.

Harry remembered that now.

He was hit by a car for the second time. But he woke up faster and he didn't feel as broken up as he did when he met Gold.

That was good, right?

But why was he at what appeared to be a grubby little hotel room and not the hospital?

Why was Gold not here?

Surely, his father and Regina for that matter and probably Belle too, would be all over him if he got hit by a car.

And that was when Harry heard it.

Snoring.

He looked up. He was a little dizzy—God, did he have a concussion. He always heard about those on Aunt Petunia's medical soap opera. Didn't people die of concussions? —but he could still make out a figure on the bed.

The driver, Harry thought. He remembered waking up. And he was in the driver's car. He couldn't remember much else, but this was so wrong.

Why didn't he take him to the hospital?

Unless, he was like the Big Bad Wolf or someone who liked eat little children. Harry really needed to brush up on his fairytale lore.

Regardless, he had to get out of here.

Apparating was out. He couldn't focus enough to do it. And even if he had the energy, he didn't think he could manage to do it at will yet. It was hard enough breaking through the wards at the library, and that was a complete accient.

So, he had to sneak out again. God, he hoped the whole big ears, big nose thing was just fiction. He wanted this to be as easy as getting out of the Charmings.

The guy did seem like he was out of it. And the way he smelt, like a six-pack and then some, he seemed really, really, out of it.

However, when Harry tried to get up, he found he couldn't put any pressure on his bad leg. In fact, he yelped causing The Big Bad Wolf to wake up.

He didn't look much like a wolf.

He looked like a drunk middle age man to be honest. Heavy set and balding, Harry really couldn't see hi as the Big Bad Wolf. Instead, he looked like Humpty Dumpty.

When he saw that Harry was awake he said, "It's okay son."

Harry didn't say anything. He wasn't sure of the situation and quite frankly if the man was stupid enough not to take him to a hospital after he hit him with his car, he had reason to worry.

Humpty Dumpty took his silence to mean something else though. "It's okay if you're confused. You took a bump to the head."

Yeah, because of your doing, Harry thought. He decided to state the obvious. "My leg. I need to see a doctor."

Or his father.

He actually could do with Gold's potions right now, he hated to admit it, but his leg was killing him. He hoped that whatever damaged that Humpty had done wasn't as bad as the accident he had with the Dursleys.

Humpty Dumpty shook his head at Harry's response about seeing a doctor. "I think you'll be fine, just some rest. That's all."

"I think I have a concussion." Harry responded. "I really think I need to see a doctor."

"You'll be fine." Humpty shrugged off. "Don't worry, son. You're not a doctor or an adult."

Yes, but he had watched all those medical soap operas of Aunt Petunia's. And his leg bloody well hurt.

He decided on a different approach. "Who are you?"

This seemed to cheer up Humpty. "Good question, son. I'm your Grandpa Moe."

Harry did not have a grandfather. Regina told him that Cora's father was dead. And Gold tried to bond with Harry talking about his own daddy abandonment issues.

Honestly, the talks sort of helped. But they were a little weird.

Unless, Humpty was Belle's father. But Harry saw no resemblance there. He decided to continue to play dumb by not saying anything.

"You probably don't remember much, do you?" Moe asked.

Harry stared at him blankly. "I just know that I need to see a doctor."

"You'll be fine." The man said again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure. Look, Moe."

"Grandpa Moe. Or you can just call me Grandpa, Gaston practically saw me as a father too."

Harry rolled his eyes. Yeah, he really didn't care about this Gaston guy. He tried asking Belle once about him to just cover his tracks. And the way Belle looked that was enough for Harry to know he didn't care.

Though, he was slightly interested in how terrible Gaston must've been to get Belle to want to be with a baby broker.

Okay, there were times he could see that his father was more than a baby broker. Lots of times actually. But still, he was getting used to the fact his father was Rumpelstiltskin. Harry still didn't know how to spell that name.

Moe didn't notice Harry's disgust. Instead, he kept talking about how Harry's father was a wonderful hunter, was an intimidating specimen, had biceps to spare, was covered with hair, ate a five dozen eggs each day to keep him roughly the size of a barge.

"He was a true hero." Moe said towards the end of this spill—Harry thought Humpty Dumpty was still a better name for him. "It's a pity that creature got to him."

"Creature?" Harry asked.

"Never you mind," Moe said. "Bless your soul, you don't have to carry those memories anymore."

Anymore? Did Moe think Harry was amnesic or something, seriously?

Yeah, he really needed to get out of here. He really needed a doctor. He really needed his father.

God, he hated admitting it.

Harry needed his family.

As mad as he was at them, he could really use their help right now. Maybe Belle could coax her crazy father down. If not Regina would probably say something that would get him to shut up. And if worst came to worse, Gold could magic him away.

Harry really which he could apparate about right now.

He was feeling rage.

Though, he knew magic was a little bit more than just emotion. He needed energy and energy was one thing Harry currently did not have.

Moe looked at him, "Things are going to be okay, son. A lot better than they were."

Harry couldn't listen to him anymore. He felt dizzy. He wanted to puke. And so much blood.

"A doctor would be really nice." He said.

Moe ignored him and turned on the TV. Obviously, signaling that there would be nothing else said about doctors.

Harry bit his lip. Maybe he could try to heal himself if Moe was going to be so daft. It was better than dying on the floor. And what else could he do? He wasn't even sure if he had the energy, but it was worth a try. Especially since he didn't exactly know what the equivalent of 999 was in America and he didn't know Gold's phone number. Gold just really had a way of showing up.

Except for this time.

You'd think the magic of the Dark One would sense his son was in danger, Harry thought. As he bit his lip.

Holding his hand over his leg he tried to think of what Gold told him. Concentrate your emotions. Of course, trying to heal oneself was a little bit different than doing a levitation spell. But Harry could slowly but surely see his magic take a hold of his injuries and apparently Moe could too.

"Hey!" He said looking at Harry, "What are you doing?"

Harry didn't answer him. He had thought the man had drifted off to a drunken oblivion again while he watched the boob tube, but apparently not. And wasn't suspecting what happened. Moe picking him up by his shirt.

Harry gasped for air. Trying not to remember those times that Vernon had done the same thing and threw him into the cupboard. It would do him no good to have a panic attack now. He needed to focus.

"Those eyes." Moe said focusing on Harry's face.

Harry tried to will his magic to let Moe go but he wouldn't.

"I know those eyes." Moe said his breath hitting Harry. "You're his. You're that demon's son. You have the same freaky eyes like it had in the forest."

Well, that answered one question, Harry thought. He did inherit some of his father's Dark One appearance after all.

Harry felt his body being rammed into the wall.

"Answer me, boy! You are that demon's child, aren't you?"

Harry felt the pressure increase on his throat. Finally he managed to gasp, "Yes, yes, I am Rumpelstiltskin's child. And you know what, I'm a lot happier being his son than Gaston's."

Might as well tell the truth before dying. Besides, he figured Moe wasn't going to let up unless he said otherwise.

Something odd though happened when he said Rumpelstiltskin, Harry could almost sense some magic leaving the room.

He didn't really get to concentrate on this though as Moe threw him on the ground and started murmuring something about a how deceptive his tramp of a daughter was.

"Belle's not a tramp." Harry said.

He probably shouldn't have spoke. It was sort of stupid. But he had to defend Belle. She was as close as a mother as he got, though he was personally glad she wasn't his mom because it would be rather disturbing given how pretty she was.

However, his love for Belle was one sided with the way Moe's eyes got narrowed. "Blasphemy!" He shouted.

Was he one of those religious nutters?

Seriously? He sounded just like one of those people Uncle Vernon used to gripe about who always rang the doorbell and preached about salvation.

Save for the fact, those people didn't have a gun.

A gun.

Harry gulped. As he tried to get up. He couldn't though.

"Stay down." Moe glared at Harry.

Harry couldn't argue the man had a gun. He looked at the man. Was this it? Was he really going to be killed by Humpty Dumpty.

"You could let me go." Harry said.

"Abomination!" Moe shouted. "I am going to get rid of you before you corrupt someone else. It's my responsibility. Belle should've gotten rid of you a long time ago."

He then pulled the trigger. However, the bullet never hit Harry even though it was directed directly towards him.

Instead, it was suspended in mid air.

Harry soon learned why when he heard a voice with a very familiar Scottish accent behind him. "Oh, French. I thought you learned your lesson before. Messing with Belle was bad enough. But no one, no one, messes with my son."