Chapter 3: Chapter - 3 : Unfinished Journeys part - 2
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It felt like forced Apparition, only several magnitudes worse. His body was twisted and compressed, there was pressure on all sides, and Harry would have cried out except there was no air left in lungs. The sensations of pain and dizziness grew to almost unbearable levels, before abruptly ending as Harry slammed into solid ground. He lay face down in the dirt, gasping for air with his eyes squeezed shut, fighting off the wave of exhaustion and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. It took a long moment for his stomach to settle and his breathing to even out, but eventually he was able to drag himself to his feet and look around.
His surroundings were very familiar; Harry was standing in Piccadilly Circus tube station in the exact spot he'd been attacked. He was even wearing the same clothes - a plain black shirt, jeans, and an old pair of dragon-hide boots. Harry blinked dazedly, wondering if he'd simply dreamt everything - dying, meeting Dobby, being sent to another world. The many glaring differences belied that idea, however. The giant billboard to his right was suddenly advertising a very 90s looking Buick; the crowds of people were wrapped up in gloves and scarves where before it had been a warm summer day; and Harry himself was several feet shorter than before.
"Merlin," Harry murmured, torn between awe and horror as he took in the clothes that hung off his skinny frame and pooled at his feet. It seemed Dobby had been as good as his word. The elf had warned Harry that he'd be ten years old again, but Harry hadn't realised just how small and puny that would make him.
He rummaged through his pockets of his jeans for the Elder Wand, intending to cast a notice-me-not charm and shrink his clothes to a manageable size, only to discover it missing. A few minutes of panicked searching revealed that the Invisibility Cloak and Resurrection Stone had also disappeared. Harry had always kept the Deathly Hallows close, not wanting them to fall into the wrong hands, and all three had been in his pockets when he'd been attacked. It appeared they hadn't made the journey with him, however. Was that the price for surviving his third killing curse?
Whatever the truth of the matter, it left Harry wandless, trapped in the body of a child, and stranded in a world he knew nothing about. He hadn't been so vulnerable in years and hated the feeling. He tried to stay calm by reminding himself that, according to Dobby at least, Harry's counterpart in this world had died years before. The Muggles around him weren't paying him any attention and if a wizard saw him they would surely dismiss his strong resemblance to the dead Boy Who Lived as a mere coincidence. For the first time ever, Harry was truly anonymous.
"So, what next?" Harry asked himself.
Charing Cross Road was less than a ten minute walk away and it would be easy enough to get someone to open the entrance to Diagon Alley. Once there he'd be able to buy a wand and start gathering information about the new world he found himself in, readying himself to rejoin the Wizarding World. Dobby had told him enough for Harry to feel that a future fight against Voldemort was inevitable and he knew it was vital to prepare.
Yet Harry hesitated. As things currently stood, nobody knew who he was or even that he existed; for the first time in his life he was totally anonymous. Without the pressure of the Prophecy and people's expectations, it would be easy for him to stay far away from Britain. After all, Harry didn't owe anyone here anything; this wasn't his world and the people in it were all strangers. What did it matter to Harry if Voldemort and his Death Eaters took over?
It mattered a lot. Hermione had been right when she'd said Harry had a 'saving people thing'. Knowing that there was a chance he could prevent countless of deaths from occurring in this new world, Harry was simply incapable of walking away. He found the concept of alternate universes hard to grasp, but one thing he was sure of - abandoning any version of his friends to Voldemort was simply unthinkable.
Once he had reached the decision to keep fighting, Harry didn't waste any more time. He let the push of people around him sweep him up the escalators and onto street level, where he attached himself to a chattering crowd of students who seemed to be on a school trip. The last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of the Muggle authorities. Actually, make that second last. The worst thing would be for Aurors to turn up and start asking awkward questions.
His lack of any proof of identity wasn't the problem; the Magical world relied on blood and magic over flimsy pieces of paper.
However, even in the Wizarding World children weren't allowed to wander around without adult supervision, making avoiding Aurors a necessity. With that in mind, Harry combed his fringe to cover his scar and ducked his head down as he entered the Leaky Cauldron, careful not to make eye-contact with anyone as he slipped into Diagon Alley behind a loud, laughing family.
Harry couldn't help staring in fascination at the bustling crowds and colourful window-displays. It had been a long time since Harry had seen such a carefree gathering anywhere in Magical Britain and the relaxed atmosphere left Harry with oddly mixed feelings. It certainly drove home that he was in a different world. He was glad the people here were at peace, with the experience of war only a distant memory, yet he also despised their wilful ignorance of the dangers he was sure were lurking beneath the happy facade. If this new world was anything like the one Harry had left behind, then there were darker undercurrents present that everyone was content to ignore.
The crowds were at least useful, in that they allowed Harry to wander down the street without anybody paying him much attention. In a daze he passed by shops and people that were at once comfortably familiar and jarringly foreign, needing all his self-control to keep acting normally and not let his creeping panic overwhelm him. The situation he was in was outside anything he had ever imagined or experienced, but Harry did his best to focus on the immediate future. First he needed a wand and a disguise, and only then would he let himself think of the madness of his current position.
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