Chapter - 5 : A New Beginning in Diagon Alley

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that in mind, Harry hurried back down the street to the Leaky Cauldron and ducked into one of the public toilets. He locked the door behind him and threw a sticking charm at it to be on the safe side, then turned to peer into the grimy mirror hanging over the equally grubby sink. He sucked in a startled breath - it was almost like looking into the face of a stranger. They were undoubtedly his features reflected back at him, but it was unsettling to see a small child staring back at him instead of the adult wizard he had so recently been.

Once the initial shock was over, Harry began carefully studying his reflection and deciding what changes to make with a few simple glamour charms. After just the first spell, however, he was alarmed to realise that not only his body, but also his magic, was that of child. All the control built up over years of spell-casting had vanished, leaving his magic erratic and unreliable. Harry cursed as his half-thought-out plans involving powerful magic vanished up in smoke.

With his powers completely untrained, it ended up taking several tries to get the spells to stick. It was exhausting to struggle to direct his magic and Harry was relieved when, after hiding the famous lightning bolt scar and changing his eyes to a pale grey, he could lower his wand and rest. He had only made a few small changes, but hoped it would be enough to ensure he wouldn't be linked to the Potters.

Later he might have to experiment with human transfiguration, which was easier to maintain and harder to dispel, but for the time being the glamours would have to do. It would be too risky to attempt any complicated spells at the moment. Human transfiguration could go badly wrong if not properly cast and Harry's magic was as immature as any ten-year-old's.

"All right, here goes," he said to himself as he stared at his new reflection. "I've been given a second chance and I can't afford to mess it up. The Boy Whole Lived is dead and is going to stay that way if I have any say in it - I'm just an ordinary ten year old wizard."

"Right you are, love," the mirror told him in a motherly voice. "But you'd best sew up those holes in your robes if you don't want to end up starkers."

Harry ignored the mirror's advice, the state of his clothes the very least of his worries. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he unlocked the bathroom door and moved out into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron. With a wand in his pocket and his glamour charms in place, Harry finally let himself relax and take in his surroundings.

He was immediately reminded of the first time he'd walked inside with Hagrid accompanying him. The pub was certainly as crowded as it had been back then before the second war. There were dozens of witches and wizards either chatting over meals or sitting anti-socially at the bar nursing glasses of firewhisky. Some of them Harry recognised; he saw Hestia Jones enjoying an early lunch with one of her colleagues, both of them dressed in red Auror robes, and he was pretty sure one of the wizards gathered around a wizarding radio listening to a Quidditch match commentary was Alicia Spinnet's father.

According to a discarded Daily Prophet Harry grabbed from a nearby table, the date was the 7th of February, 1991. Depending on how one looked at it, it had either been eleven years in the future or less than a day ago that Harry had died and been sent to another world. Harry felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples. The jump into the past, coupled with the familiar but still different surroundings, left Harry feeling disoriented and off-kilter.

He was used to bizarre and unlikely things happening to him, and so could just about handle suddenly being ten years old again. What he couldn't quite grasp was that the world he found himself wasn't his world. He had to remind himself that no matter how similar she looked, the Hestia Jones in front of him wasn't the same woman who had been killed by a blasting curse during a skirmish in Knockturn Alley. He didn't actually know anything about the witch seated a few tables away. For all Harry knew, she was living in sin with Stan Shunpike and had three illegitimate children and a pet Kneezle.

Anything was possible. It was another world and despite the superficial similarities, Harry knew he couldn't let himself assume things were the same as his old world. The biggest difference he'd found so far was that his counterpart had died at the age of five - that change alone would have massive consequences for everyone he knew. The Dursleys for one were probably much happier, Harry thought with a snort.

Dumbledore had probably had to change all his plans, since without the boy 'marked as his equal' the Prophecy was useless - or maybe he had focused all his efforts on poor Neville. As for the Wizarding World in general, the Daily Prophet must have had a field day when the Boy-Who-Lived was killed in a muggle car crash.

Harry was overwhelmed thinking of the sheer number of changes that could arise from a single event. He'd have to do some research - get his hands on some history books and read old newspaper articles - to find out the main differences between worlds. He wouldn't be able to make any reliable plans until he knew exactly what he was getting himself into.

First things first, Harry reminded himself. He had a wand and a disguise, now he needed food and shelter.

"Can I get you anything, lad?" Tom the barman asked, distracting Harry from his busy thoughts.

"Hello, sir," Harry said, putting on a shy smile. "I was wondering if you needed any help around the pub? You see, I really want to buy some stuff from Gambol and Jape's joke shop, but I… I don't have any money and was hoping maybe... you might hire me? I'm a hard worker, I promise!"

Tom frowned as he took in Harry's thin face and tattered second-hand robes. "But where're your parents? You haven't run away from home, have you lad? It's not safe for a young boy like you to be out on your own."

"I don't have any parents," Harry told him, hoping to gain the man's sympathy. He knew from experience that many adults had a soft spot for orphans and Merlin knew there were a lot of them after the first war. "I live in a Muggle orphanage not far from here. I don't like it there much, but that's all right 'cos soon I'll get to go to Hogwarts! I'm so excited!"

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