Chapter 40- did you ever have one of those days (.part 2)

Because he'd made it his habit to change clothes in the bathroom since the beginning of the holiday, Harry hadn't really seen himself in about three weeks. Oh, he'd peered into the mirror on the medicine cabinet when he put on his contacts, brushed his teeth, and checked his face for signs of spots, but that only showed his face and neck.

The mirror in the main bedroom was larger, and showed much more, but Harry hadn't paid it a lot of mind. He used it to make sure his shirts were tucked in properly, and he caught casual glimpses of himself when he passed by, or spoke with Crystal and the others, but that was about it. He knew what he looked like, and didn't feel the need to spend vast amounts of time gazing in the mirror. He was the same as he'd always been...or so he'd thought. It was different somehow now that he was standing there practically au natural.

Straightening, Harry raised an eyebrow, and regarded his reflection with a critical eye. His first thought when he really looked at himself, was Crystal and the others must be having him on again, but no, it really was him in there.

Wow.

Evidently the regular meals, combined with all the hours he'd spent lifting and hauling and shelving and scrubbing were paying off in ways other than Galleons and store credit. He was still slim, but no longer so painfully skinny, the adjective tall would be pushing it, but he seemed to be approaching at least "average" height, and as an added bonus, he had developed a thin layer of wiry muscle.

Thinking back to the accident, things made a bit more sense. Mrs. Fillmore had been outdoors, explaining the mistake to the delivery wizards, and giving them directions. Harry, who had been tending the Apothecary garden, caught snatches of their conversation but hadn't really paid much attention until the voices became louder and frightened.

Watch out!

It's slipping!

Catch it!

I can't hold it!

The delivery wizards had about six vats with them, with some kind of hovering charms on them. Harry didn't see what caused it, but by the time he poked his head around the building to see what the row was about, the vats were teetering precariously, and the whole lot was trying to spill in the street.

Mrs. Fillmore and the two delivery wizards managed to get five of the six under control, but the last one was still threatening to topple over. Realizing they'd never manage to catch it in time, he'd rushed over to help, catching the lip of the massive vat, and yanking back with all his might. The container had been quite large, and he'd reckoned he'd need his full body weight just to check its forward progress, never mind right it.

Unfortunately, he'd been doing all these mental calculations based on what his size had been this time last year. He wasn't a behemoth by any stretch of the imagination, and probably wouldn't be challenging Draco Malfoy's hefty friend Gregory Goyle to a wrestling match anytime soon, but, he had experienced some rather pronounced changes in height, strength, and body mass recently. Changes that had taken him by surprise.

Instead of just barely being able to budge it, he'd been pulled off balance when the thing hadn't been as heavy as he'd thought it should be. He'd landed hard on his rump and about half of the solution had spilled on him before one of the delivery wizards could rush over and heave it upright.

Harry blew out a disgusted breath and rolled his eyes. Some of the other scents wouldn't have been so bad. Wintergreen. Pine Forest. Heck, even Citrus would have been okay, but noooo. He had to get Tea Rose!

Life stinks sometimes, Harry thought a little ironically, noting with distaste that he still smelled faintly of flowers. Perfect. All he needed now was for some halfwit to hang another nickname on him. "Sparky" he could live with. Something like "Rosy" or "Pinky" was completely out of the question. Too bad he couldn't hide in his room for the rest of the day.

This other, though...this was a bit of all right. Grinning like a kid with a new toy, Harry turned this way and that, studying the new sleekness in his form with frank amazement. An amused hoot drew his eye over to Patches and Hedwig for a minute. If either of them could speak, he suspected both of them would be laughing themselves silly, right about now, but he didn't care!

It had always seemed so horribly hopeless. So dismally unfair. He'd reckoned he was doomed to be ugly, skinny, undergrown, and physically deficient in general for the rest of his life-however long it might be. It hadn't been so bad first year, but the developmental differences between Harry and his year-mates (to Harry, anyway) seemed to become more and more pronounced as time went on. Now, though...

Hmmm. Maybe there was hope after all. He'd probably never have Ron's height, but he might catch Fred and George...or Ginny...or Pigwidgeon. At least he was taller than Peter Pettigrew now-not that that was saying a whole lot, mind.

Thinking of the Weasley's reminded Harry of the Burrow. He'd thought he might die of terminal embarrassment last summer when Mrs. Weasley had somehow noticed or guessed that he was dissatisfied with his appearance. Perhaps she hadn't just been being kind when she'd given him a little hug and discretely assured him he was merely a "late bloomer." Giving in to silliness, he made sure his towel was secure, and tried a couple of muscleman poses before realizing what he was doing, and slapping himself on the forehead.

Let's not get carried away, there, Potter! he chided himself, as he fetched some fresh clothes and hastily scrambled into them. It's a definite improvement, but you still have a way to go. Besides, if you don't watch yourself, you'll wind up like that conceited prat Lockhart! he thought with a little shudder, as he hid his scar under a fresh headband, and prepared to go back downstairs.

________________

Saturday, July 22, 1995

This...

makes...

no...

bloody...

sense!

Nathaniel Baker shook his head in exasperation, and glared at his wand which was pointing inexorably out to sea. Canceling the spell, he walked a few paces, then tried again.

"Point me, Harry Potter!" he commanded, only to growl in frustration a few seconds later when his wand jerked around, then resumed its previous position.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" the sandy-haired wizard demanded of no one in particular, as he watched the restless waves of Cottesloe Beach.

"All right, mate. Let's take it from the top," Nate muttered, pacing and tapping his wand against his other hand as he did when he was thinking, angry or nervous. Or all three, come to think of it. "You must have missed something somewhere."

Dumbledore had contacted him a few days ago, and requested his assistance in locating and retrieving one Harry Potter. He'd agreed readily to help in any way he could, even when he'd been warned him about the Dursleys' aversion to magic. Albus had given him the name of Vernon Dursley's place of work, and requested he refrain from using magic as much as possible. That had seemed a bit silly to Nate, but again he had agreed.

It had taken a bit of doing to find Potter's muggle rellies, since they'd just relocated, and were still getting settled in, but he'd managed without too much drama. The name of Vernon Dursley's place of work had been a good start. From there it had just been a matter of talking to the right people and asking the right questions. When he'd strolled up the walk and knocked on the door of the Dursley's new home, he'd reckoned he'd have young Mr. Potter's wayward bum back at Hogwarts before supper.

Served him right for thinking. Naturally it couldn't be that easy.

Petunia Dursley had been polite enough at first, but when he'd identified himself as a wizard, and mentioned the lad by name, she'd gotten awfully pale and nervous. She'd recovered quickly, though, and told him that Potter, and her own son Dudley, hadn't returned home from school yet, and she wasn't exactly sure when to expect them.

When he'd asked if he could wait, she'd refused, becoming evasive and panicky again, before refusing a bit ungraciously, and claiming she and the boys really had too much to do, when they returned. About half convinced that the woman was in serious need of professional help, Nate had left, planning to try again later. In the meantime, he decided to try his luck with the uncle.

Mindful of Petunia Dursley's reaction when she'd found out he was a wizard, Nate had decided to try another approach when confronting Vernon. He'd obtained some official-looking documents, and visited Vernon in his office, pretending there was some small problem with the Potter's immigration paperwork. His aim had been to draw Dursley into a friendly conversation, then casually bring up the fact that Potter was wanted at Hogwarts.

He'd never gotten the chance.

Vernon Dursley, like his wife, had grown extremely nervous and evasive when Potter had been brought up, but his story hadn't even begun to match hers. According to Vernon, Harry was a juvenile delinquent who used to attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Dursley claimed the boy was still incarcerated there, and now that he and his wife were settled, they had been working on finding a local institution for Potter to be shipped off to. They had narrowed it down to two or three, and would be sending for the boy any time now.

Concerned, now, Nathaniel had said his goodbyes, and apparated back to the neat little house in the suburbs. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was rotten here. The uncle's story couldn't possibly be correct. Harry Potter attended Hogwarts, not some institution for incorrigible reprobates. Besides, Petunia Dursley had said he was enrolled in one of the local schools with her son.

Were they trying to hide Potter? Protect him from dark wizards? Or could it be something else?

Scowling, he had stalked up the walk, determined to get the whole truth out of Potter's aunt even if he had to hex her into next week. He'd just raised his fist to pound on the door when voices inside made him pause.

"But mum, I hate it here!" whined a boy's voice. "I'm supposed to be on holiday, and the kids are mean! Harry was always the one they teased back home!"

"There, there, popkin," Petunia Dursley's voice soothed. "They just need to get to know you, that's all. Here. Why don't you watch the telly for a bit before Dad get's home. I'll make you a nice snack."

"They don't show any of my favorite programs here," the boy grumbled sulkily, but Nate soon heard the telly come on just the same. Frowning, he listened for other voices in the house, but there didn't appear to be any. Shrugging, he knocked on the door.

"Dudley dearest, could you get that for Mummy?" Petunia's voice sounded a little farther away. Nate reckoned she must still be in the kitchen.

"I'm busy. Make Harry do it," the boy snapped testily. Nate raised an eyebrow. This lad was in need of a serious attitude adjustment. Petunia said something he couldn't make out, but evidently she convinced the boy, because a few second later he heard, "All right, all right," and the sound of approaching footsteps. A few seconds later, the door opened, and he found himself facing a rather large blonde boy.

"G'day," he'd greeted, striving to keep a civil face on the meeting. "I'm here to collect Harry Potter for Albus Dumbledore. Could you please fetch him for me?"

The boy had gaped unbecomingly, then turned a nasty shade of green. "Mum!" he squalled, turning toward the kitchen. "Muuuuuuum!"

Petunia had peeked around the corner to see what the matter was. When she'd spotted Nate, she'd come flying out of the kitchen, chopping knife in hand, and positioned herself between the wizard and her son.

"I see the boys are home from school now," he'd commented, trying to salvage the situation.

"But Harry's not here!" Dudley had exclaimed in confusion, looking rather ridiculous as he cowered behind his bony mother.

Shocked, Nathaniel started to question the boy further, but Petunia had swiftly silenced her son by whacking him in the shin with her heel.

After glaring at Nate for a few seconds, Petunia lost her composure completely. "That's right! He isn't here! He...he...ran away! Took his magical rubbish and left! Always was a disgusting little troublemaker! Disappears without so much as a by your leave, and turns up again like a bad penny, expecting us to forgive everything and open our home to him again!"

She'd carried on a while longer, shrieking about how Potter was shamelessly endangering her family before ordering him away, and slamming the door in his face. Shaken by the encounter, Baker had immediately jumped into action. He called in some favors from some of his mates, and between them they'd tracked down some interesting facts. It didn't feel like he was any closer to discovering where Harry Potter was, but he did have an alarmingly long list of places where he wasn't:

He wasn't enrolled in any of the Australian magical or muggle schools.

He wasn't enrolled at St. Brutus's.

He hadn't been admitted to any of the area hospitals.

The local police had never heard of him.

He wasn't in any of the runaway shelters, foster care facilities, or juvenile detention centers.

And no one they questioned seemed to be able to recall seeing anyone fitting his description, either with the Dursleys or alone.

Afraid Petunia Dursley might have been telling the truth, and Harry was somehow surviving on the streets, Nathaniel had cast a tracking charm. The boy couldn't have gotten very far, weighted down with his belongings, and on foot. He'd apparated back to the Dursley's neighborhood, and let the charm lead him from the suburbs to Perth proper, and finally here to Cottesloe Beach.

At any time during his citywide trek, he'd expected to find a frightened, cold, and hungry young wizard, who'd had ample time to regret his foolishness.

Provided he'd buggered off of his own accord, of course.

Baker couldn't say he'd blame the boy, even if he had, but another possibility that was completely believable, was that Potter's aunt and uncle had simply tossed him out. Their unconcerned attitude with regard to their nephew's welfare, and their lying to cover up was nothing short of appalling.

As he'd walked, he'd worked through what he'd say. He reckoned Potter would have to be approached carefully. The last thing Nate wanted to do was frighten him off. He had time to compose several good opening lines and scenarios, but the kid hadn't turned up.

The kid hadn't turned up, and he'd reached land's end.

If he walked another few meters he'd be ankle deep in seawater, and yet his wand continued to pull steadily Northwest.

Nate stopped pacing and looked out to the horizon with dawning horror. Harry Potter wasn't in Australia.

But his relatives were. And he was willing to lay odds that they were lying about his whereabouts, and what they knew.

It's time to call in reinforcements, Nate thought darkly as he raised his wand and apparated home.

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