Hopefully I'm getting it done right...
I know everyone is expecting quasi-canon unfolding at this point, but I think there's more to it than just popping Harry back into his life. There's got to be a technical part to the process, isn't there? Because of that, and also because I'm a detail-oriented person, Chapter Two of the Prologue involves the process. Worry not, the next installment will bring the canon back! Enjoy!
Getting It Done Right
Prologue - Chapter Two: Leaving Death’s Door\
“…Danielle?”
The receptionist turned to face Harry. “Hmm?”
“I was told that someone from Processing was supposed to meet me here…?”
“They’re on their way, Harry,” she said with a nod. He took a step towards the waiting room when he stopped.
“I heard you mention my mother’s name earlier. Did she pass by here?”
Danielle grinned. “Your father, actually, works here as a Cloak, Harry, but don’t tell Victor I told you.”
“Why not?”
“James has only been here a few years, but he’s just as good in his job as Victor is. They’re rivals.”
Harry returned her grin. “What about my mother?”
“She’s doing well for herself. She works in Acceptance Counseling.”
“Acceptance Counseling?”
“People who die in violent deaths like airplane crashes or drive-by shootings need to be properly counseled that they did reach the end of their lives. That’s what Acceptance Counseling is for.”
He smiled. “That’s nice.”
A door opened and closed behind him and he turned around to see a shaggy-haired man wearing a lab coat and a pair goggles on his forehead. “Deyus called and told me to come up. What’s this about?”
Danielle pointed at Harry with the back of her pen. “Potter here signed an ADARF. It’s his sixth flag.”
The shaggy-haired man’s eyes widened. “Oooh!” he drawled excitedly. “You’re Harry Potter?” He scuttled up to Harry.
“Yes…” he replied uncomfortably.
“You’re really Harry Potter?” He clenched his hands into fists and screwed his eyes shut with joy. “I’ve never had to fill out a high-profile ADARF case before!” He shook Harry’s hand with both of his and smiled broadly. “I’m Zeke. Word’s gotten round about you, Potter. You’re one heck of a child.”
Danielle blew out a breath. “Zeke, you’re going to give him a big head. It’s bad enough he’s already The Boy Who Lived and The Chosen One.” Harry frowned at the mention of his titles. “You want to quit stifling him and get him down to Processing already? Deyus wants the Potter and Riddle files dealt with before the next millennium.”
Zeke looked up at the receptionist with sudden recognition. “Processing! Yes, er…Right.” He turned back to Harry. “Follow me.” He moved towards the door that Harry entered.
“But…”
The shaggy-haired man raised a hand, shushing him. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and opened it a little, peeking out into the crack. Satisfied, he opened the door all the way. “Here we are, Potter! Processing! And you’ll remember it this time!”
Harry glanced at Danielle, who just rolled her eyes and shook her head, a smirk on her face. “He’s always this weird. Everyone in his department is off their rocker at one level or another.” She shooed him off. “Just go, Potter. He’s completely harmless, a complete nutter, to be sure, but completely harmless.” With a shrug, he turned back to see Zeke’s smiling face as he gestured to the doorway.
As he walked through, a bright light seared his vision, but it faded as quickly as it had come. Processing looked like something out of a computer lab mixed with the Potions classroom. Everyone in the department wore lab coats and every desk they worked at had a computer, a rack of beakers, a convoluted web of glass pipes and what looked like an open shower stall next to the desk. Chalkboards with letters, mathematical symbols and numbers covered the walls. Zeke walked proudly in front of Harry, his head held high. Harry noticed this and looked around to see everyone else in the department talking in hushed whispers as they passed.
“Here we are,” Zeke announced smartly as they reached a simple wooden desk with two monitors, a tall, twisting mass of holders and glass, and a round, three-tier test tube rack. Like all the other stations, an open stall stood right beside the desk. Harry couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows questioningly.
“Despite what Danielle said about me being a complete nutter,” he said suddenly, “I’m the best this department has to offer. Feel free to ask your Cloak or even Deyus himself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry said awkwardly. “If they sent you to look after me, I don’t have much of a choice but to trust you, do I?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes at Harry as he took a seat, but they brightened suddenly and he smiled warmly. “You’re a good kid, Potter. Your old man always told me as much during company gatherings.” He typed furiously for a few moments. “Lemme see…ah! Here we are.” He turned the monitors around. “Your entire life up until your last De-Bitt is unfolded on these very screens.” Harry glanced at the wall of text and noticed several red ‘X’ marks. “You obviously know what those red marks are for.” Zeke typed again for a brief moment and blue marks lit up the screens like Christmas lights. “Those blue marks are other potential return points.”
“Return points?” Harry asked.
Zeke smiled slyly. “Deyus knows full well that we don’t necessarily have to revive a De-Bitt person at the time they receive their flag. It’s just easier for all of us in the department and reasonably less manpower for the senior Processors.”
Harry nodded. “How would it be easier?”
Zeke just smiled at him. “It’s easier to pop a soul back into his or her corpse and clean him up. It’s more challenging to replace the younger soul with that of an older copy.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I like a good challenge.”
Harry smiled at the white-haired man. He reminded Harry of his godfather.
“Now, let’s see here, Potter…” he said, his voice trailing off as one part of the wall of text disappeared. “I’m under the assumption that you don’t want to be revived any time before Hogwarts?”
Harry nodded.
“Of course not,” Zeke replied, more to himself than to Harry, “you didn’t know your soul mate until after you met dear Rubeus.”
Harry recoiled in surprise. “I was meaning to ask about that…”
“Hmm?”
“My soul mate,” Harry went on.
Zeke grinned and rotated the monitors back to face him. “Pull your chair up.” He scooted over and Harry brought his chair over so that he sat beside his Processor. “Once someone reaches ten years old, we have to process that person’s file and find someone completely compatible with them, comparing point values, living conditions and physical distance from each other.”
“What do you mean, point values?”
“Oh, physical attributes, intelligence, abilities, common likes and dislikes, the regular dating service lot,” Zeke replied offhandedly. “When comparing everything, we get a numerical value for someone. In normal cases, we end up comparing scores that are off of each other by about twenty to thirty points.”
“That seems like quite a bit,” Harry said.
“Well, considering that the numerical values start from one-hundred-thousand, twenty to thirty is a fairly small margin,” Zeke said with a shrug. “Not every couple is perfect, you know.”
Harry sensed the teasing in Zeke’s voice. “However…”
Zeke flashed Harry a toothy smile. “Every so often we find a one in a million match. A perfect match.”
“Zeke, what is Potter still doing here?”
The shaggy-haired man’s back went ramrod straight as the staccato of crisp footsteps grew louder. Harry looked up from one of the monitors to see Arthur Deyus calmly walking towards them, his hands behind his back.
“I was helping him consider potential return points when he asked about his soul mate,” Zeke replied. “I figured that since he signed an ADARF that he should be returned with as much knowledge as possible.”
Deyus shook his head. “Why not just return him to one of his De-Bitt points and be over with?”
Harry stood suddenly, feeling anger rise in him like a tidal wave. “Don’t I have a say in the matter?”
Deyus shot him a glare as Zeke trembled slightly. “Mister Potter…”
“Much as you want Riddle taken care of, Deyus, this is still my life we’re talking about here! I already had Dumbledore toying around with what I needed to know and what I didn’t need to know, and if this is my final time around, I’m not having it from you either, even if you were bloody Merlin himself!”
The entire department went silent, everyone in the room except Harry and Deyus slack-jawed. Harry, surprised by his sudden outburst, kept the withering glare on his face, his eyes never leaving Deyus’. In response, Deyus nodded slowly.
“You are right, of course,” Deyus said, bowing. “My apologies, Mister Potter.” He glanced at Zeke. “I suppose we’ll have to add you to our list of visitors that Potter will have from this agency.”
Harry frowned. “Visitors?”
“I mentioned in my office that we will be watching you, didn’t I?” Deyus said. “That makes myself, your Cloak and now your Processor.” He glanced at Zeke. “Give him what he absolutely needs and take him to the return point of his choosing, please. You can visit him at the earliest opportunity and fill him in on anything else he feels he needs to know.”
Zeke could not have looked more shocked. Never had the CEO of Death’s Door Agencies sounded so calm and…defeated. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered with a nod. Deyus nodded in return, turned on his heel and left the department without another word. Once more, everyone in the department turned to both Harry and Zeke, and he tugged on his collar nervously. Harry slumped back onto his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Step into the stall, please, arms out beside you and palms facing behind you,” Zeke ordered gently as he typed furiously on his keyboard. Shrugging, Harry followed orders and stood in the stall. A sheet of light appeared over him and lowered, passing through him down to his feet and returning to the top of the stall, where it immediately disappeared. He returned to his seat behind and to Zeke’s left as the Processor stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm…” the shaggy-haired man murmured. “Now, you are aware that Riddle made you a horcrux, yes?”
Harry nodded. “Dumbledore told me as much,” he replied sourly.
“Now, Riddle’s Killing Curse did indeed kill you,” Zeke said, looking intensely at a series of text and numbers on one of the screens, “but it also destroyed the horcrux part of yourself, in effect ridding you of your Parseltongue abilities as well as a significantly large boost to your magic potential and latent knowledge. Without this boost you gained from the horcrux, your magical abilities would still be over Hermione’s, indeed, well over that of most wizards, but with the boost, your talents would go off the charts. With the horcrux boost, you’re actually readily able to use wandless and nonverbal spells.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Zeke looked over his own shoulder at Harry, eyebrows waggling and a sly grin on his face. “The horcruxes have to be destroyed, but I’m sure you want to keep the perks, don’t you?”
Harry returned the sly grin with a bright smile.
“Okay, that can be arranged…” Zeke turned back, typed briefly before turning in his chair towards the circular rack of tubes. He pursed his lips in thought as he darted his head left and right, all the while slowly spinning the three-tier rack. He spoke in low tones to himself as he took two vials from the middle rack, and one each from the top and bottom. “Okay, these should take care of that…” He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a beaker, gently placing the four vials into it with a muted clinking of thick glass.
Harry watched in amazement as he watched the Processor at work. He reminded him of a saner Alastor Moody. His head darted from the computer screens to the test tube rack several more times, each time picking out yet another vial, pulling a beaker from the open drawer at random intervals.
After what seemed like ten minutes, he finally spun his chair around to face Harry. “All right.” He handed him a beaker with eight tubes, seven with shimmering liquid light in it and one with a clear blue liquid. “Drink the blue one first.”
“What is it?”
Zeke shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It tastes like maple syrup.”
“What is it, though?”
“I’ll tell you after, Potter. Just drink it.”
With a shrug, Harry stood, uncorked it and knocked it back in one gulp.
“Great!” Zeke said, clapping once. “Now, those other vials are numbered. It’s necessary that you take those in the order that they’re marked. Oh, and you might want to stay sitting for a little while.”
Harry picked up one vial marked with a three. “Wait a minute. These look like Pensieve memories.”
Zeke smiled widely. “That they are. The blue stuff I made you drink is a Memory Retainer. You’ll be able to recall memories, past and present, with ease. Essentially, I just gave you photographic memory.” He glanced at Harry as he uncorked and ingested the liquid light from the first vial. “Now, what about your first year at Hogwarts? Are there any points you can think of that you might want to return to?”
Harry glanced at his Processor briefly before his vision suddenly spun violently, and he fell back into his chair for fear of falling down.
“Harry?” Zeke turned to see his charge turning faintly green. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Great.” He stood and gripped Harry’s shoulders as he started to tilt left and right. “Easy, Potter. Shut your eyes and count backwards from twenty.”
His head still lolling from left to right, Harry shut his eyes and did as he was told. He felt his head stop spinning and he felt he was regaining control of his body as he recited ‘three’.
“That’s it,” Zeke said reassuringly. He sat back down and turned back to the computer. “Wait ten seconds and take the next vial.” Without missing a beat, he continued. “Second year? Anything?”
“No,” Harry replied, fighting the urge to retch as he reached for the second vial. He unsteadily uncorked it and tilted his head back, imbibing the pensieve memories.
“No?” Zeke asked absently. He nodded after a brief moment. “All right. Third Year?”
Harry fought the wave of vertigo as the memories from his second year at Hogwarts crashed through his vision in a matter of seconds. The urge to vomit was painfully strong, but he held back. “…Can’t…think…of anything…” He closed his eyes and started counting backwards again.
“Really?” The Processor shrugged. “Shame, really. I think that there would have been a good return point or two there. Could have had you learn several classes at once alongside your soul mate…”
Harry shook his head, both to fight off nausea and to disagree. “No. I attract too much attention, remember?” He weakly reached for the vial marked with a three.
“If you say so…” Zeke said with a shrug. “Ah, now…Fourth Year. There are plenty of potential return points there. What say you?”
Harry put the stopper back on the vial and he leaned back in his chair, anticipating the memories to assault his vision. “Fourth year sounds…” The memories hit, and as the fleeting image of him flying around on Buckbeak flitted through his sight, he had to grip the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. “Twenty…Nineteen…” He swallowed the bile rising up in his throat. “Eighteen…”
“Reasonable, then?”
Harry nodded as Zeke turned around. “Fifteen…Fourteen…”
The Processor turned back to the computer. “Excellent! Fourth Year it is, then!” He highlighted a sizable amount of text. It zoomed in and it took up both screens. “Now, where exactly would you want to start?”
Harry groggily opened his eyes. “…Huh?” He reached for the fourth vial. “Gimme a second, will ya?” he slurred. “This is…” He fought the urge to retch again. “It’s not…easy…”
“Here, let me help you with that,” Zeke said impatiently. Taking the tube from Harry’s grasp, he uncorked it with two fingers, held Harry’s nose up and upended the tube over Harry’s open mouth. He clapped Harry’s jaw upward, shutting his mouth once the vial was empty. Closing the tube, he gently placed it back in the beaker and fished out the one labeled with a five. He repeated the process until the contents from all seven vials were ingested, and he kicked a wastebasket over to Harry as he sat back down at his own chair and Harry pitched over to vomit into it.
“Let it go, Harry,” he said patiently as he mulled over the text on the computer screens. “Let it all go.” He seemed unfazed by the sound of his charge retching uncontrollably, nor from the growing smell.
Harry wiped tears from his eyes. “Merlin’s beard, you crazy bastard!” he cursed, his voice barely a croak. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Zeke glanced over his shoulder at him, unimpressed. “Right now, you’re already dead, and I’m in the process of bringing you back to life.”
Harry stared daggers at the man sitting calmly beside him. “You’re a complete lunatic, you know that?”
Zeke nodded casually. “Mm-hmm. Now, your fourth year at Hogwarts...I think after your vision of Pettigrew and Wormtail seems fitting, don’t you?”
Harry nodded hastily. “Anything to get away from you right now,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Zeke nodded. “All right. Drink the green potion that’s by itself. That’s an anti-nauseant.”
Harry stared at Zeke incredulously. “And you couldn’t have given me that before I took the pensieve memories?”
“It would have reacted to the Memory Retainer,” the Processor said, utterly oblivious to Harry’s situation. “Now that you have all the memories, you can take the anti-nauseant.”
Harry warily reached for the green vial. He didn’t take his eyes off his Processor as he uncorked the tube and downed the green liquid. Harry felt a wave wash over him, and his nausea left as if it was never there.
“Good,” Zeke said, though Harry never saw him look. “There’s a red liquid and a dark green liquid in a beaker. Drink the green one first then the red.”
“This one’s not going to make me breathe fire, will it?” Harry asked as he held the first vial up between his thumb and index fingers.
Zeke turned to regard him seriously. “That can be arranged, if you like.”
Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly before taking in the contents of the glass tube. He made a face; it tasted like used socks.
“The red one tastes like cherry, so don’t worry yourself,” Zeke said, eyeing the final beaker and the lone glass tube inside it. Harry made a throaty noise and frowned.
“What do these do?” Harry asked as he put the mouth of the vial to his lips.
Zeke turned back to his computer. “The dark green one, in essence, makes the horcrux envelop your entire body. So now, it’s a shield from anything except that which can destroy them.”
“So…basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, and a Killing Curse?”
Zeke nodded knowingly. “That about sums it up.” He pointed to the vial that Harry just finished drinking from. “That red one lets you keep the extra edge the horcrux gives you.”
Harry gestured to the last vial with the empty one in his hand. “And that last one…?”
He glanced at the lone tube, filled with an orange liquid. “That one protects you permanently from the effects of Amortentia.”
Harry gawked. “What? Why?”
Zeke snorted. “Please. You know that Molly and Ginevra Weasley have been lacing the food they gave you with it, don’t you?” There was a brief pause. “You really didn’t?”
“No…” Harry replied, his voice trailing off.
“Well, they have,” Zeke said with mild disappointment. “And not to speak ill of your best friend Ronald, but he’s not exactly the brightest tool in the shed. That said, he needs to grow up, else he’ll do nothing but hold the both of you back.”
Harry glared at the Processor, who didn’t waver.
“Recall your fourth year, Potter,” he said matter-of-factly.
Immediately thoughts of Ron during his fourth year at Hogwarts played in his mind as if they were yesterday. Despite the memories of support and friendship that he had, there were many more memories of Ron harboring ill will towards himself, and later on, Hermione. The images right after the Yule Ball immediately brought feelings of anger, and he clenched his fists.
“See what I mean?” Zeke asked. “If he doesn’t smarten up, things won’t bode well for him. I hate to break this to you, Potter, but you might want to make this his final chance. You saw how broken your soul mate was during sixth year and then during your hunt for the horcruxes. I think it would drive you insane if you let him do that again.”
“How can you say something like that? He’s my best friend!”
“Would a best friend be jealous of all the attention you get even though you don’t want it?” Zeke asked, annoyed. “Would a best friend be jealous of the money you have even though you don’t show a Knut?” Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the shaggy-haired scientist pressed on. “Would a best friend believe you got past the Goblet of Fire on your own? Would a best friend be tight-lipped if he was jealous of a friend? Would a best friend leave you in a time of danger and uncertainty?”
The last question felt like a dagger shoved mercilessly into Harry’s heart.
“I had a friend like Ronald when I was alive, Potter,” Zeke said icily as he shook his head. “Looking back on my life, I realize he held me back on so many things. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. I’ve seen it happen time and again, and I’ve warned people. No one bothers to listen.”
“I’ll…” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll think about it.”
Zeke’s demeanor changed instantly as he clapped his hands once. “Great!” He gestured to the stall again. “Time for you to go!”
Harry started. “What?”
“You’ve got to get out of here, Potter!” the Processor said excitedly. “Everything is set. You’ll be returned to the morning after your vision with Riddle and Pettigrew. Step into the stall, please.”
Warily, Harry stepped in. “Zeke?”
The shaggy-haired man looked up. “Hmm?”
“Thanks,” he said simply.
Zeke shook his head. “Won’t be the last time, Potter! We’ll warn you when we’re going to visit!” The entire stall slowly lit up and a buzzing noise began to grow in volume. “And read the note from your moth-”
His final word was swallowed by the sound of hurricane winds accompanied by his vision swirling.
* * * * *
A/N: We'll return to Canon next chapter, I swear!
Well, that's that. As always, be brutal.
Getting It Done Right
Prologue - Chapter Two: Leaving Death’s Door\
“…Danielle?”
The receptionist turned to face Harry. “Hmm?”
“I was told that someone from Processing was supposed to meet me here…?”
“They’re on their way, Harry,” she said with a nod. He took a step towards the waiting room when he stopped.
“I heard you mention my mother’s name earlier. Did she pass by here?”
Danielle grinned. “Your father, actually, works here as a Cloak, Harry, but don’t tell Victor I told you.”
“Why not?”
“James has only been here a few years, but he’s just as good in his job as Victor is. They’re rivals.”
Harry returned her grin. “What about my mother?”
“She’s doing well for herself. She works in Acceptance Counseling.”
“Acceptance Counseling?”
“People who die in violent deaths like airplane crashes or drive-by shootings need to be properly counseled that they did reach the end of their lives. That’s what Acceptance Counseling is for.”
He smiled. “That’s nice.”
A door opened and closed behind him and he turned around to see a shaggy-haired man wearing a lab coat and a pair goggles on his forehead. “Deyus called and told me to come up. What’s this about?”
Danielle pointed at Harry with the back of her pen. “Potter here signed an ADARF. It’s his sixth flag.”
The shaggy-haired man’s eyes widened. “Oooh!” he drawled excitedly. “You’re Harry Potter?” He scuttled up to Harry.
“Yes…” he replied uncomfortably.
“You’re really Harry Potter?” He clenched his hands into fists and screwed his eyes shut with joy. “I’ve never had to fill out a high-profile ADARF case before!” He shook Harry’s hand with both of his and smiled broadly. “I’m Zeke. Word’s gotten round about you, Potter. You’re one heck of a child.”
Danielle blew out a breath. “Zeke, you’re going to give him a big head. It’s bad enough he’s already The Boy Who Lived and The Chosen One.” Harry frowned at the mention of his titles. “You want to quit stifling him and get him down to Processing already? Deyus wants the Potter and Riddle files dealt with before the next millennium.”
Zeke looked up at the receptionist with sudden recognition. “Processing! Yes, er…Right.” He turned back to Harry. “Follow me.” He moved towards the door that Harry entered.
“But…”
The shaggy-haired man raised a hand, shushing him. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and opened it a little, peeking out into the crack. Satisfied, he opened the door all the way. “Here we are, Potter! Processing! And you’ll remember it this time!”
Harry glanced at Danielle, who just rolled her eyes and shook her head, a smirk on her face. “He’s always this weird. Everyone in his department is off their rocker at one level or another.” She shooed him off. “Just go, Potter. He’s completely harmless, a complete nutter, to be sure, but completely harmless.” With a shrug, he turned back to see Zeke’s smiling face as he gestured to the doorway.
As he walked through, a bright light seared his vision, but it faded as quickly as it had come. Processing looked like something out of a computer lab mixed with the Potions classroom. Everyone in the department wore lab coats and every desk they worked at had a computer, a rack of beakers, a convoluted web of glass pipes and what looked like an open shower stall next to the desk. Chalkboards with letters, mathematical symbols and numbers covered the walls. Zeke walked proudly in front of Harry, his head held high. Harry noticed this and looked around to see everyone else in the department talking in hushed whispers as they passed.
“Here we are,” Zeke announced smartly as they reached a simple wooden desk with two monitors, a tall, twisting mass of holders and glass, and a round, three-tier test tube rack. Like all the other stations, an open stall stood right beside the desk. Harry couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows questioningly.
“Despite what Danielle said about me being a complete nutter,” he said suddenly, “I’m the best this department has to offer. Feel free to ask your Cloak or even Deyus himself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry said awkwardly. “If they sent you to look after me, I don’t have much of a choice but to trust you, do I?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes at Harry as he took a seat, but they brightened suddenly and he smiled warmly. “You’re a good kid, Potter. Your old man always told me as much during company gatherings.” He typed furiously for a few moments. “Lemme see…ah! Here we are.” He turned the monitors around. “Your entire life up until your last De-Bitt is unfolded on these very screens.” Harry glanced at the wall of text and noticed several red ‘X’ marks. “You obviously know what those red marks are for.” Zeke typed again for a brief moment and blue marks lit up the screens like Christmas lights. “Those blue marks are other potential return points.”
“Return points?” Harry asked.
Zeke smiled slyly. “Deyus knows full well that we don’t necessarily have to revive a De-Bitt person at the time they receive their flag. It’s just easier for all of us in the department and reasonably less manpower for the senior Processors.”
Harry nodded. “How would it be easier?”
Zeke just smiled at him. “It’s easier to pop a soul back into his or her corpse and clean him up. It’s more challenging to replace the younger soul with that of an older copy.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I like a good challenge.”
Harry smiled at the white-haired man. He reminded Harry of his godfather.
“Now, let’s see here, Potter…” he said, his voice trailing off as one part of the wall of text disappeared. “I’m under the assumption that you don’t want to be revived any time before Hogwarts?”
Harry nodded.
“Of course not,” Zeke replied, more to himself than to Harry, “you didn’t know your soul mate until after you met dear Rubeus.”
Harry recoiled in surprise. “I was meaning to ask about that…”
“Hmm?”
“My soul mate,” Harry went on.
Zeke grinned and rotated the monitors back to face him. “Pull your chair up.” He scooted over and Harry brought his chair over so that he sat beside his Processor. “Once someone reaches ten years old, we have to process that person’s file and find someone completely compatible with them, comparing point values, living conditions and physical distance from each other.”
“What do you mean, point values?”
“Oh, physical attributes, intelligence, abilities, common likes and dislikes, the regular dating service lot,” Zeke replied offhandedly. “When comparing everything, we get a numerical value for someone. In normal cases, we end up comparing scores that are off of each other by about twenty to thirty points.”
“That seems like quite a bit,” Harry said.
“Well, considering that the numerical values start from one-hundred-thousand, twenty to thirty is a fairly small margin,” Zeke said with a shrug. “Not every couple is perfect, you know.”
Harry sensed the teasing in Zeke’s voice. “However…”
Zeke flashed Harry a toothy smile. “Every so often we find a one in a million match. A perfect match.”
“Zeke, what is Potter still doing here?”
The shaggy-haired man’s back went ramrod straight as the staccato of crisp footsteps grew louder. Harry looked up from one of the monitors to see Arthur Deyus calmly walking towards them, his hands behind his back.
“I was helping him consider potential return points when he asked about his soul mate,” Zeke replied. “I figured that since he signed an ADARF that he should be returned with as much knowledge as possible.”
Deyus shook his head. “Why not just return him to one of his De-Bitt points and be over with?”
Harry stood suddenly, feeling anger rise in him like a tidal wave. “Don’t I have a say in the matter?”
Deyus shot him a glare as Zeke trembled slightly. “Mister Potter…”
“Much as you want Riddle taken care of, Deyus, this is still my life we’re talking about here! I already had Dumbledore toying around with what I needed to know and what I didn’t need to know, and if this is my final time around, I’m not having it from you either, even if you were bloody Merlin himself!”
The entire department went silent, everyone in the room except Harry and Deyus slack-jawed. Harry, surprised by his sudden outburst, kept the withering glare on his face, his eyes never leaving Deyus’. In response, Deyus nodded slowly.
“You are right, of course,” Deyus said, bowing. “My apologies, Mister Potter.” He glanced at Zeke. “I suppose we’ll have to add you to our list of visitors that Potter will have from this agency.”
Harry frowned. “Visitors?”
“I mentioned in my office that we will be watching you, didn’t I?” Deyus said. “That makes myself, your Cloak and now your Processor.” He glanced at Zeke. “Give him what he absolutely needs and take him to the return point of his choosing, please. You can visit him at the earliest opportunity and fill him in on anything else he feels he needs to know.”
Zeke could not have looked more shocked. Never had the CEO of Death’s Door Agencies sounded so calm and…defeated. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered with a nod. Deyus nodded in return, turned on his heel and left the department without another word. Once more, everyone in the department turned to both Harry and Zeke, and he tugged on his collar nervously. Harry slumped back onto his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Step into the stall, please, arms out beside you and palms facing behind you,” Zeke ordered gently as he typed furiously on his keyboard. Shrugging, Harry followed orders and stood in the stall. A sheet of light appeared over him and lowered, passing through him down to his feet and returning to the top of the stall, where it immediately disappeared. He returned to his seat behind and to Zeke’s left as the Processor stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm…” the shaggy-haired man murmured. “Now, you are aware that Riddle made you a horcrux, yes?”
Harry nodded. “Dumbledore told me as much,” he replied sourly.
“Now, Riddle’s Killing Curse did indeed kill you,” Zeke said, looking intensely at a series of text and numbers on one of the screens, “but it also destroyed the horcrux part of yourself, in effect ridding you of your Parseltongue abilities as well as a significantly large boost to your magic potential and latent knowledge. Without this boost you gained from the horcrux, your magical abilities would still be over Hermione’s, indeed, well over that of most wizards, but with the boost, your talents would go off the charts. With the horcrux boost, you’re actually readily able to use wandless and nonverbal spells.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Zeke looked over his own shoulder at Harry, eyebrows waggling and a sly grin on his face. “The horcruxes have to be destroyed, but I’m sure you want to keep the perks, don’t you?”
Harry returned the sly grin with a bright smile.
“Okay, that can be arranged…” Zeke turned back, typed briefly before turning in his chair towards the circular rack of tubes. He pursed his lips in thought as he darted his head left and right, all the while slowly spinning the three-tier rack. He spoke in low tones to himself as he took two vials from the middle rack, and one each from the top and bottom. “Okay, these should take care of that…” He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a beaker, gently placing the four vials into it with a muted clinking of thick glass.
Harry watched in amazement as he watched the Processor at work. He reminded him of a saner Alastor Moody. His head darted from the computer screens to the test tube rack several more times, each time picking out yet another vial, pulling a beaker from the open drawer at random intervals.
After what seemed like ten minutes, he finally spun his chair around to face Harry. “All right.” He handed him a beaker with eight tubes, seven with shimmering liquid light in it and one with a clear blue liquid. “Drink the blue one first.”
“What is it?”
Zeke shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It tastes like maple syrup.”
“What is it, though?”
“I’ll tell you after, Potter. Just drink it.”
With a shrug, Harry stood, uncorked it and knocked it back in one gulp.
“Great!” Zeke said, clapping once. “Now, those other vials are numbered. It’s necessary that you take those in the order that they’re marked. Oh, and you might want to stay sitting for a little while.”
Harry picked up one vial marked with a three. “Wait a minute. These look like Pensieve memories.”
Zeke smiled widely. “That they are. The blue stuff I made you drink is a Memory Retainer. You’ll be able to recall memories, past and present, with ease. Essentially, I just gave you photographic memory.” He glanced at Harry as he uncorked and ingested the liquid light from the first vial. “Now, what about your first year at Hogwarts? Are there any points you can think of that you might want to return to?”
Harry glanced at his Processor briefly before his vision suddenly spun violently, and he fell back into his chair for fear of falling down.
“Harry?” Zeke turned to see his charge turning faintly green. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Great.” He stood and gripped Harry’s shoulders as he started to tilt left and right. “Easy, Potter. Shut your eyes and count backwards from twenty.”
His head still lolling from left to right, Harry shut his eyes and did as he was told. He felt his head stop spinning and he felt he was regaining control of his body as he recited ‘three’.
“That’s it,” Zeke said reassuringly. He sat back down and turned back to the computer. “Wait ten seconds and take the next vial.” Without missing a beat, he continued. “Second year? Anything?”
“No,” Harry replied, fighting the urge to retch as he reached for the second vial. He unsteadily uncorked it and tilted his head back, imbibing the pensieve memories.
“No?” Zeke asked absently. He nodded after a brief moment. “All right. Third Year?”
Harry fought the wave of vertigo as the memories from his second year at Hogwarts crashed through his vision in a matter of seconds. The urge to vomit was painfully strong, but he held back. “…Can’t…think…of anything…” He closed his eyes and started counting backwards again.
“Really?” The Processor shrugged. “Shame, really. I think that there would have been a good return point or two there. Could have had you learn several classes at once alongside your soul mate…”
Harry shook his head, both to fight off nausea and to disagree. “No. I attract too much attention, remember?” He weakly reached for the vial marked with a three.
“If you say so…” Zeke said with a shrug. “Ah, now…Fourth Year. There are plenty of potential return points there. What say you?”
Harry put the stopper back on the vial and he leaned back in his chair, anticipating the memories to assault his vision. “Fourth year sounds…” The memories hit, and as the fleeting image of him flying around on Buckbeak flitted through his sight, he had to grip the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. “Twenty…Nineteen…” He swallowed the bile rising up in his throat. “Eighteen…”
“Reasonable, then?”
Harry nodded as Zeke turned around. “Fifteen…Fourteen…”
The Processor turned back to the computer. “Excellent! Fourth Year it is, then!” He highlighted a sizable amount of text. It zoomed in and it took up both screens. “Now, where exactly would you want to start?”
Harry groggily opened his eyes. “…Huh?” He reached for the fourth vial. “Gimme a second, will ya?” he slurred. “This is…” He fought the urge to retch again. “It’s not…easy…”
“Here, let me help you with that,” Zeke said impatiently. Taking the tube from Harry’s grasp, he uncorked it with two fingers, held Harry’s nose up and upended the tube over Harry’s open mouth. He clapped Harry’s jaw upward, shutting his mouth once the vial was empty. Closing the tube, he gently placed it back in the beaker and fished out the one labeled with a five. He repeated the process until the contents from all seven vials were ingested, and he kicked a wastebasket over to Harry as he sat back down at his own chair and Harry pitched over to vomit into it.
“Let it go, Harry,” he said patiently as he mulled over the text on the computer screens. “Let it all go.” He seemed unfazed by the sound of his charge retching uncontrollably, nor from the growing smell.
Harry wiped tears from his eyes. “Merlin’s beard, you crazy bastard!” he cursed, his voice barely a croak. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Zeke glanced over his shoulder at him, unimpressed. “Right now, you’re already dead, and I’m in the process of bringing you back to life.”
Harry stared daggers at the man sitting calmly beside him. “You’re a complete lunatic, you know that?”
Zeke nodded casually. “Mm-hmm. Now, your fourth year at Hogwarts...I think after your vision of Pettigrew and Wormtail seems fitting, don’t you?”
Harry nodded hastily. “Anything to get away from you right now,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Zeke nodded. “All right. Drink the green potion that’s by itself. That’s an anti-nauseant.”
Harry stared at Zeke incredulously. “And you couldn’t have given me that before I took the pensieve memories?”
“It would have reacted to the Memory Retainer,” the Processor said, utterly oblivious to Harry’s situation. “Now that you have all the memories, you can take the anti-nauseant.”
Harry warily reached for the green vial. He didn’t take his eyes off his Processor as he uncorked the tube and downed the green liquid. Harry felt a wave wash over him, and his nausea left as if it was never there.
“Good,” Zeke said, though Harry never saw him look. “There’s a red liquid and a dark green liquid in a beaker. Drink the green one first then the red.”
“This one’s not going to make me breathe fire, will it?” Harry asked as he held the first vial up between his thumb and index fingers.
Zeke turned to regard him seriously. “That can be arranged, if you like.”
Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly before taking in the contents of the glass tube. He made a face; it tasted like used socks.
“The red one tastes like cherry, so don’t worry yourself,” Zeke said, eyeing the final beaker and the lone glass tube inside it. Harry made a throaty noise and frowned.
“What do these do?” Harry asked as he put the mouth of the vial to his lips.
Zeke turned back to his computer. “The dark green one, in essence, makes the horcrux envelop your entire body. So now, it’s a shield from anything except that which can destroy them.”
“So…basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, and a Killing Curse?”
Zeke nodded knowingly. “That about sums it up.” He pointed to the vial that Harry just finished drinking from. “That red one lets you keep the extra edge the horcrux gives you.”
Harry gestured to the last vial with the empty one in his hand. “And that last one…?”
He glanced at the lone tube, filled with an orange liquid. “That one protects you permanently from the effects of Amortentia.”
Harry gawked. “What? Why?”
Zeke snorted. “Please. You know that Molly and Ginevra Weasley have been lacing the food they gave you with it, don’t you?” There was a brief pause. “You really didn’t?”
“No…” Harry replied, his voice trailing off.
“Well, they have,” Zeke said with mild disappointment. “And not to speak ill of your best friend Ronald, but he’s not exactly the brightest tool in the shed. That said, he needs to grow up, else he’ll do nothing but hold the both of you back.”
Harry glared at the Processor, who didn’t waver.
“Recall your fourth year, Potter,” he said matter-of-factly.
Immediately thoughts of Ron during his fourth year at Hogwarts played in his mind as if they were yesterday. Despite the memories of support and friendship that he had, there were many more memories of Ron harboring ill will towards himself, and later on, Hermione. The images right after the Yule Ball immediately brought feelings of anger, and he clenched his fists.
“See what I mean?” Zeke asked. “If he doesn’t smarten up, things won’t bode well for him. I hate to break this to you, Potter, but you might want to make this his final chance. You saw how broken your soul mate was during sixth year and then during your hunt for the horcruxes. I think it would drive you insane if you let him do that again.”
“How can you say something like that? He’s my best friend!”
“Would a best friend be jealous of all the attention you get even though you don’t want it?” Zeke asked, annoyed. “Would a best friend be jealous of the money you have even though you don’t show a Knut?” Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the shaggy-haired scientist pressed on. “Would a best friend believe you got past the Goblet of Fire on your own? Would a best friend be tight-lipped if he was jealous of a friend? Would a best friend leave you in a time of danger and uncertainty?”
The last question felt like a dagger shoved mercilessly into Harry’s heart.
“I had a friend like Ronald when I was alive, Potter,” Zeke said icily as he shook his head. “Looking back on my life, I realize he held me back on so many things. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. I’ve seen it happen time and again, and I’ve warned people. No one bothers to listen.”
“I’ll…” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll think about it.”
Zeke’s demeanor changed instantly as he clapped his hands once. “Great!” He gestured to the stall again. “Time for you to go!”
Harry started. “What?”
“You’ve got to get out of here, Potter!” the Processor said excitedly. “Everything is set. You’ll be returned to the morning after your vision with Riddle and Pettigrew. Step into the stall, please.”
Warily, Harry stepped in. “Zeke?”
The shaggy-haired man looked up. “Hmm?”
“Thanks,” he said simply.
Zeke shook his head. “Won’t be the last time, Potter! We’ll warn you when we’re going to visit!” The entire stall slowly lit up and a buzzing noise began to grow in volume. “And read the note from your moth-”
His final word was swallowed by the sound of hurricane winds accompanied by his vision swirling.
* * * * *
A/N: We'll return to Canon next chapter, I swear!
Well, that's that. As always, be brutal.