Chapter Two – Discoveries and Decisions
Lydia Dale was a wonderful person. She had a heart of gold and loved all of the orphans at the orphanage unconditionally. Her caring, motherly nature resulted in many of the children confiding in her; she had the compassion of a million mothers and always seemed to know how to solve whatever problem came her way. That is, until Harry Potter was left in the orphanage’s care. She knew the small boy was incredibly hurt by his aunt’s actions, but she had a feeling that it was probably better that he was left here.
Lydia wasn’t stupid—she recognized the signs. Watching as Harry ate his breakfast, she could tell by his actions and lack of interaction with peers his own age that his relatives failed to provide an acceptable environment for him. It angered Lydia that people could actually harm children—children of all people! They were small and defenseless, meant to be looked after with the utmost care and importance. A knock on the door startled Lydia to the point of snapping her pen in half; she looked surprised before remembering exactly what she had been doing.
“Come in,” she called, tossing the useless writing utensil into the wastebasket beside her desk and dutifully cleaning up the ink droplets that fell on her desk. Jack cocked an eyebrow at her and shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t wanna know,” he said as he shook his head. “What’re you doing?”
“I was just making some notes,” she mumbled, scribbling more things in her notepad with a new pen. “I’ll have to question Harry soon.”
Jack winced a little. “Ah,” he said softly. “Do you want me to do it?”
Lydia smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I watched Harry eat his breakfast,” she replied, not answering his question. “His clothes are too big, his hair is tangled and dirty, he’s excessively shy, and he’s very nervous.”
Jack sucked in a breath. “Damn,” he cursed angrily, glaring at the wall.
“Exactly.” Lydia rubbed her forehead tiredly. “The interview needs to be conducted in order to determine if any other types of abuse took place in that household.”
The man was silent for a while. “Do you want me to contact Desiree?”
Lydia sighed and nodded her head. “I think you’ll have to.”
Jack got up and was about to leave when he paused and turned back to Lydia. “Before I do that, I think you should know something,” he said carefully. “It’s about Harry.”
Lydia blinked and narrowed her eyes at him slightly. “Oh? And what would that be?”
Jack sighed and took the seat in front of her desk. “It’s a good thing you’re sitting down,” he mumbled. “I think you’d faint if you were standing up.”
“Jack, what is it?” Lydia asked impatiently, cocking her head to the side as he bit his lip.
“You know how I’m…different…from other people, right?”
Lydia looked startled. “You mean about your…magic?” she whispered conspiratorially, as if expecting someone to appear. Had the situation not been serious, Jack would’ve laughed.
“Yeah. Well, I didn’t tell you everything about my world,” Jack said calmly, looking straight into Lydia’s eyes. “You see, the main reason I left immediately after graduating from school was because we were in the middle of war. There was an incredibly evil wizard, the Dark Lord, and he wanted to…purify,” he spat the word, “the Wizarding World by removing anyone with Muggle blood.”
“And Muggles are people that can’t do magic, right?” Lydia asked, listening to the story with rapt attention.
“Yes, and because my dad is a Muggle, that makes me a half-blood. I won’t bore you with the Wizarding World’s idiotic beliefs, but I will tell you that the Dark Lord had led a reign of terror, not unlike Hitler in Germany, that was only stopped on October 31, 1981—almost five years ago. He had tried to kill a family on the side of the Light that evening, but didn’t manage to completely do that. The Dark Lord was able to successfully kill Lily and James Potter, but when he tried to kill Harry Potter, he was somehow defeated.”
Lydia gasped, tears coming to her eyes. “Jack, you’re not making sense,” she whispered, horrified. “You’re trying to say a child, a child, killed this Dark Lord of yours. That’s impossible!”
Jack smiled sadly at Lydia. “I wish it were,” he murmured. “But that’s the truth. Because he was able to somehow get rid of the Dark Lord, he’s known as the Boy Who Lived. The Wizarding World claims him to be their Savior, yet they know nothing about him. They’ve placed him on a pedestal and they have no fucking clue what he’s even like! They worship him and they don’t even know a damn thing about him!”
Jack stood up and paced angrily, his fists balled at his sides. Consumed by his own anger, Jack nearly tripped over his own feet when Lydia spoke. “They don’t worship him; they worship an image,” she said quietly, harshly. Jack would’ve been surprised at her cold tone had he not already known that she was fiercely protective of children. “This is terrible.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “It is. But, can you see why I told you this?”
Lydia looked up in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
“Surely you understand, knowing who this is, that he cannot be adopted by a Muggle family?” Jack replied before realizing how it sounded. He winced and waited for the backlash.
Sure enough, it came. “What are you trying to say, Jack?” Lydia spat angrily. “You out of all people know that we have to find the best family that’ll suit Harry’s needs! I don’t care if it’ll become inconvenient for your stupid world!”
“That’s not what I meant, Lydia,” Jack said softly. “You know children mean the world to me.”
“Then tell me what you mean, Jack! Explain it to me!”
“Yes, Harry is the Savior of our world, but more importantly, he’s a Wizard. He needs to be taught magic and Wizarding customs. And, as much as you and I don’t like it, as the Boy Who Lived, he will eventually be fighting the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.”
“You just said the Dark Lord is dead,” Lydia protested, her face pale. “How can Harry fight that monster if he’s dead?”
“Lydia, you said it yourself! It doesn’t make sense that where loads of talented, experienced Wizards have fallen, a mere baby survives! The Wizarding World might be stupid and ignorant enough to assume the greatest threat to both of our kinds is gone for good, but I’m not. I think he’s still out there somewhere and, mark my words, he will return. And when he does, Harry needs to be ready for that.”
Lydia fell silent. “So what’re we going to do?” she said tiredly, dejectedly.
“Like I said, Harry can’t be adopted by a Muggle family. However, he can’t be adopted by a Wizarding one either.”
Lydia’s brow furrowed in thought and she frowned confusedly. Her head was hurting and aching from the revelations and she rubbed her temples in an attempt to fight the oncoming headache. “So…he can’t be adopted by any family is what you’re saying,” she said finally, looking at Jack with a cocked eyebrow.
“Think about it, Lydia. He’s the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived, a celebrity. If he were adopted by a Wizarding family, do you really think they’ll take his best interests at heart or will the majority of them be too concerned with influencing him to the wrong side or filling their pockets with the Potter fortune?”
Silence.
“Again, what’re we going to do?” Lydia repeated slowly.
“My parents can take him in,” Jack said quietly. “They’ll be able to love him and provide for him while also teaching him about the Wizarding World and this one.”
Lydia nodded in agreement before she asked the question Jack had hoped wouldn’t spring into her head. “Why don’t you do it?” she inquired curiously. “From my standpoint, you are also fully qualified for taking in Harry.”
“Please, don’t start,” Jack pleaded. “My mom is enough, thanks.”
“Knowing Emily, she probably made some sort of deal with you,” Lydia said, giggling slightly. “‘Fess up, what is it?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “She said if I didn’t grow attached to him by the end of one week, she’ll take him.”
Lydia frowned. “One week isn’t long enough to get to know someone,” she said thoughtfully.
“Exactly why I agreed to it!” Jack retorted.
“You know,” Lydia said softly, “you’d make a great dad. I know it, the kids know it; even Matt knew it. The only one that doubts you is yourself.”
Jack turned away from her; she knew it was practically a taboo to talk about Matt unless he was actually there in the building and the fact that she brought him up to prove her point stung him. He sighed and shook his head. “By the end of the week, Harry will be safe and happy with my parents. You’ll see,” Jack promised.
They were silent before Lydia snorted. “Men,” she groaned. “Pigheaded, stubborn fools. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”
Jack cracked a smile. “You know you love me,” he said sultrily, waggling his eyebrows.
Lydia gave a mock-gasp. “Mr. Carpenter, are you implying that my standards are low enough for me to hit on gay men?”
Jack’s jaw dropped and his hand went to his chest. “Ouch,” he whispered, sniffling pitifully.
Lydia rolled her eyes before standing up. “Come on, Jack. We have work to do,” she said gently.
Jack sighed gently and nodded his head. “I’ll go call Desiree. Or would you like to do that and I’ll question Harry?”
“I think that’ll be best for everyone involved,” Lydia replied, smiling softly though her eyes held a sort of glint.
With a small sigh, Jack walked out of the office. He came back a moment later, slightly sheepish as he asked, “And where exactly is Harry at?”
“He’s with Sam and Dean down the hall in room six,” she said, shaking her head amusedly at him as she dialed Desiree’s number.
“Thanks,” he said quickly as he left. It took less than a minute to reach the room and when he did, he knocked on the doorframe as he walked inside. Sam and Dean looked up from where they were showing Harry a coloring book. “Hey, kiddos. Did you have a good breakfast?”
“Yes, we did, Jack!” Sam spoke for the group and offered him a blinding smile.
“That’s good,” he murmured gently. “Sorry, guys, but I need to speak with Harry, please.”
Sam and Dean nodded, though a little sadly, and, seeing Harry fidget nervously, Sam leaned over and whispered loudly, “Don’t worry; Jack is very nice.”
Harry seemed to be slightly reassured and anxiously grabbed Jack’s outstretched hand. Jack frowned a little when he noticed how clammy the small boy’s hand felt. Gently, he led him to the Playroom.
This was where the orphanage conducted interviews with abused children. Having a degree in child psychology, Jack knew how to recognize signs of abuse in children. Sadly, out of all the children that were abandoned at the orphanage, at least twenty-seven percent of them were somehow abused. In order to make the necessary child abuse reports, Jack had to be certain that the child was actually abused. So, in order to subtly investigate suspicions, there were rooms designed for the child’s comfort. There was also a hidden camera taping the interview so, if the suspicions were proven correct, there would be evidence to present to the authorities.
In the Playroom, there was a round table placed near the wall with a two-way mirror. There were children’s books on a small bookshelf and a chest of toys in one corner of the room. Jack led Harry to the round table and gesture for him to sit. Grabbing a coloring book and crayons that lay atop the bookshelf, probably put there by Lydia, Jack smiled understandingly and placed them in front of Harry, who began twisting the hem of his baggy shirt.
“Do you like to color, Harry?” he asked, smiling disarmingly.
Harry looked at the coloring book before bringing his gaze to Jack. “Um...I don’t know...” he mumbled lowly.
Jack made a motion with his hand. “Try it,” he encouraged.
Harry bit his lip nervously and made a small mark in the book. When Jack didn’t appear angry, Harry continued to color though he peered at Jack with cautious eyes in case it was a trick. Soon enough, however, Harry was coloring slightly more relaxed with his tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempted unsuccessfully to stay within the lines. Jack smiled gently at him before subtly taking in a deep breath.
“Harry,” he said quietly, “can I ask you some questions?” Harry stopped coloring and looked at the man with no small amount of worry. “You don’t have to answer,” he added.
“Why?” Harry blurted out before nervously going back to coloring.
“Because I want to get to know you. You seem like a great kid and we’re friends.”
Harry gave him a look that was both disbelieving and nervous before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess so,” he mumbled, making sure not to meet Jack’s gaze.
“Who did you live with?” Jack asked, keeping his eyes trained on Harry’s body movements and reactions.
Harry stiffened slightly and his eyes watered a little. “My aunt, uncle, and cousin,” he whispered, nearly dropping the crayon.
“Were they nice to you?” Jack watched Harry sadly.
The small boy shrugged his shoulders, seemingly uncaring. “They treated me normally,” Harry said softly, switching crayons.
“Did you like living with them?”
Harry looked at him with an odd expression on his face. “Why?”
Jack shrugged. “I remember wanting to pull my hair out when I was living with my parents. They cared too much sometimes.”
Harry bit his lip slightly. “It was okay,” he mumbled quietly. “I didn’t feel like pulling my hair.”
Jack laughed a little and smiled. “You must’ve gotten a lot of toys,” he stated more than asked.
“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head thoughtfully. “Dudley got toys.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Jack said, frowning slightly. “Why didn’t you get any toys?”
Another shrug. “They didn’t like me much,” Harry said sadly, his lower lip trembling slightly.
“What?” Jack looked surprised. “But you’re so nice, why wouldn’t they like you?”
Harry shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said stubbornly, glaring at the coloring book. “It doesn’t matter.”
Jack knew he hit a sensitive spot and instantly backed off. “Okay, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said softly. The silence between them was deafening until he broke it. “So, Harry, do you like magic?”
That, apparently, had been the wrong thing to say. Instantly, Harry shot out of his seat and looked at Jack in horror. “That’s a bad word,” he whispered as he trembled. “There’s no such thing as magic! It’s not real!”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “Who told you that?” he asked incredulously.
Tears leaked out of Harry’s eyes. “Aunt Petunia! She told me magic isn’t real. Only freaks believe in magic,” he wailed. “I’m not a freak!”
Jack swallowed thickly before slowly reaching out to touch Harry’s shoulder. Harry let out an audible gulp and his body shook gently. “Of course you’re not a freak, Harry,” Jack said soothingly, looking Harry straight in the eye. “No, you’re a good boy. Right?”
Harry nodded his head furiously, his tears slowing though his body continued shaking. “I’m a good boy,” he whispered, more to himself than to Jack. “I’m not a freak.”
Jack felt a tug at his heartstrings as he carefully and gently enveloped the boy into a hug. It was like a punch in the gut when Harry stiffened at the contact before relaxing and melting into the embrace. The boy sniffled a few more times and took shaky breaths. “Do you want to stop, Harry?” Jack asked quietly.
Harry nodded his head once more. “I don’t want to talk anymore,” he murmured. “I want to go back with Sam and Dean!”
Jack licked his lips and cleared his throat, having not trusted himself to speak without his voice breaking, and said gently, “Alright then. I’ll take you back to them, okay? Would you like to take the coloring book with you?”
Harry pulled away from the embrace and rubbed his eyes. “I just want to go back with Sam and Dean.”
Jack nodded his head sadly and picked the boy up, glancing meaningfully at the mirror where Lydia was surely behind. The silent trek to room number six calmed both of them down. Sam and Dean were tossing a blue ball when Harry got back and, upon the boy’s arrival, beamed at him.
“Do you wanna play ball with us, Harry?” Sam asked happily, offering him a grin so wide it would’ve split his face in half.
Harry smiled shyly at him. “I, um, I don’t know how,” he whispered, wringing his hands together.
“That’s okay,” Dean replied smilingly. “We can show you!”
Jack watched as the two boys encouraged Harry successfully to join them. Realizing they had forgotten he was even there, Jack quietly left and walked back towards the playroom. He recalled Harry’s violent reaction to the word ‘magic’ with horror and swallowed the lump in his throat. When he entered the door just next to the Playroom, he was met with a tight-lipped Lydia.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I think leaving him here was the kindest thing those horrible relatives of his had ever done for the poor boy!”
Jack nodded, knowing she would rant and rave for a bit more. “It was,” he agreed softly.
“Why heartless people like that are ever blessed with the joy of children is beyond me!” she spat angrily, pacing around the room. “And how nobody has recognized the signs of abuse, I cannot fathom. The child must’ve been to primary school—surely his teachers would’ve noticed something off about him! His clothes are too large, his hair is tangled, and he’s excessively nervous and shy. These behaviors and situations are not associated with proper child care!”
“He doesn’t know about magic,” Jack said hollowly, feeling as if he just landed in a very bad dream. “Those relatives of his not only denied him basic human needs, but also his heritage. They kept a part of him from himself; how can people do that? Do they not realize what they’ve done?”
Lydia stared at Jack for a while before taking a deep breath. “What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.
Jack looked at her with no small amount of worry or anger. “If a Wizard denies his magic, he denies himself. Rejecting your magic is basically signing a death warrant. Your magic will seek an escape and, when it can’t find one, it will turn on you. It’ll affect your innards, your vital organs, your immune systems; nothing inside your body will be safe until either you use your magic or it kills you.”
Lydia attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. “What of children?” she choked out. “Surely children don’t use magic.”
“It’s different for them,” Jack replied. “Children normally release their magic without intending to, which is why it’s called accidental magic. It normally happens during times of extreme emotion. Based on Harry’s reaction, his Muggle relatives have probably told him that whenever he performs something a normal Muggle can’t, levitating an object for example, that he was a freak. And, because he doesn’t wish to be a freak, he tries to suppress his magic, though he probably doesn’t know he has it. Children, however, have little to no control over their magic and so we don’t have to worry about Harry denying himself until he’s at least eleven, which is the age where children go to school to learn how to control it.”
Lydia nodded her head thoughtfully, closing her eyes and calming herself. “Before we concern ourselves with that, we need to make sure that he will be alright otherwise.” She held up a hand as Jack was about to interrupt her. “He may be a Wizard, but he’s also a child and an abused and neglected one at that. Harry needs to know that he’s not a freak and that he is a perfectly normal child. He needs the love and stability of a family. This is a slow, gradual process and when he is actually ready to learn what he is, then and only then will we tell him.”
Jack smiled as she crossed her arms and stared at him, silently daring him to protest. “I was going to tell you that I agree. It would be prudent to raise Harry like an ordinary kid and then slowly break the news of his Wizardry and celebrity status in our world. As the Boy Who Lived, much of his freedom will be revoked. He should live like a regular child and have fun before such a responsibility is thrust upon him. The Savior of the Wizarding World will have the weight of both worlds on his shoulders and a young boy will not be ready for that.”
“I don’t think anybody will be ready for that,” Lydia admitted. She smiled a little sadly. “I’ll help him, Jack. We won’t be able to completely reverse the psychological damage his idiot relatives caused him, but we will make sure that child feels like the most loved one in either world!”
Jack gave a small laugh. “Sam and Dean are good for him,” he murmured. “Sam’s bubbly nature helps lure him out of his shell and Dean’s calmer one helps ground them both. They make a good trio.”
Lydia looked at him bemusedly. “You and Matt would be good for him, too,” she said, her eyes teasing though her mouth had serious lines.
Jack frowned and shook his head. “It won’t happen,” he said stubbornly. “My parents will take good care of him, Lydia. Don’t worry. I have to go call them now, as a matter of fact. They’d like to meet Harry, and who am I to stop a match made in heaven?”
Jack left, leaving Lydia standing there and shaking her head.
“He’d be good for you as well, Jack,” she said softly, staring at the door where Jack had left. A sigh escaped her lips and she pondered the situation a bit more. If only there was something she could do to make Jack see that—
Lydia slowly smirked, an idea forming in her head. She laughed softly, knowing Jack would thank her in the long run. Without a second thought, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar phone number, waiting impatiently for the receiver to pick up.
“Hello?”
“Matt, it’s Lydia. Listen, I have an idea.”
