Lost and Found

Lost and Found

Harry didn't know what had drawn him to Diagon Alley that day. Perhaps it was a hankering for a Chocolate Frog or two - his supply had run out a couple of months before - or perhaps it was because he was running low on some essential potion ingredients. And he needed those ingredients to maintain his anonymity. But whichever it was, he found himself stood outside the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron on that bright spring morning.

He hesitated, his hand on the door handle of the blackened, run-down little pub, and checked his appearance in the small section of window not covered in grime. A wizened, wrinkled face with a mass of tousled, chestnut brown hair stared back at him. Only the green eyes behind the wrinkles and horn-rimmed glasses looked bright and young. Harry carefully adjusted the wig to make sure the fringe completely covered his forehead in a way his natural hair never did, took a deep breath, turned the handle and went inside.

It took Harry's eyes a few moments to become accustomed to the dimness compared with the bright sunshine outside, but when they did, he saw that the interior of the dingy pub was the same as it had ever been. It was also fairly busy, which pleased Harry, as he was able to pick his way slowly across the bar to the small courtyard behind without having to speak to or make eye contact with anybody. Three taps with his wand on the wall above the dustbin and the whole wall moved, creating the archway into Diagon Alley.

Harry walked through the archway into the bustling street before him, crammed full of witches and wizards taking advantage of the good weather to do their shopping, and instantly had to fight the strong urge to turn around and leave again. Why on earth had he come here after so many years? Why hadn't he just owled Hermione and asked her to order what he needed, as he usually did? Why had he risked exposing himself?

With some effort, he forced himself to move forward into the throng and followed the flow up the street. He paused outside Gambol and Japes to look in the window at the remnants of their sale items. Large posters declared 'CLOSING DOWN DUE TO RELOCATION'. Harry had more than an inkling as to why the joke shop was closing: although Diagon Alley was the most popular shopping area in the country for wizards, it wasn't that big a market if you had competition. Especially when the competition was Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes: from the little he'd heard, the twins' business was still going from strength to strength.

Harry continued down the street, paused at one of the numerous confectioners to buy a box of Chocolate Frogs, and then headed towards Gringotts. He went down an alleyway at the side of the building, followed it as it twisted down, first to the left and then the right, growing darker all the while. He passed an old wooden sign into which the words 'Knockturn Alley' had been branded and, having checked that no one was watching, ducked through a small door on the right. A few minutes later, his transactions completed and the pockets of his robes full of various powders and substances, he headed back. He could have bought most of this in Diagon Alley, he supposed, but there they would have asked a lot more questions. And the less questions the better.

He emerged into the sunlight again and decided to have a quick look in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies before leaving. He stood for several minutes admiring the latest broom in the Firebolt range, the Extreme. The information card next to it proclaimed it as:

"The latest innovation and technology in aerobatics. It combines all the speed and handling of the original Firebolt with exceptional manoeuvrability, allowing the flier to perform feats previously considered impossible."

Of all the things Harry missed about the magical world he'd all but turned his back on, it was the flying. He remembered the sense of freedom he used to have as he soared high over the Quidditch pitch back at Hogwarts, how alive it used to make him feel. He smiled at the memory, and then sighed heavily. If the loss of that feeling was the price he had to pay to be 'just Harry' again, then so be it. He turned away from the window to head back to The Leaky Cauldron.

And then he saw her.

She was just coming out of Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, her long raven hair flowing over her shoulders, a couple of colourful braids woven into the hair on one side and the usual selection of bangles and bracelets on her arms. Harry stood transfixed, just watching her as she walked down the steps, absentmindedly sucking on her bottom lip while she decided which way to go.

Harry continued to stare as she turned and meandered in his direction. He thought he really ought to move on, to get out of the way, but he just couldn't bring his feet to budge. A whole myriad of memories came flooding back of a life he had disassociated himself from, and a wave of sadness, of loss, swept over him.

It was five years - five very long years - since Harry had last seen Parvati Patil. There was a time at the beginning of their seventh year at Hogwarts when they had gone on a few dates together, mainly to keep Ron and Hermione company. He gave an involuntary smile as he remembered how she used to try and flatten his hair down, despite the odds against it making any difference, and almost laughed at the way she'd got her own back on him for standing her up at the Yule Ball in their fourth year. Looking back on it, they had been good times, he thought, probably some of the happiest of his life.

But the beginning of open hostilities in the Second War had changed everything. Harry had become so preoccupied with his preparation to meet Voldemort head on that everything else had taken second place. Parvati had tried to get him to include her, but he'd shut her out, just like everyone else. She'd tried to shrug it off for a while, but eventually she just couldn't cope and left him to it, finding solace with Seamus instead.

The decisive battle came and Harry had finally defeated Voldemort, but with the loss of Ron, Dumbledore and Remus among the many. Harry was so devastated by their deaths, so completely shattered and torn, that he had felt unable to face anyone. He'd done what he was born to do; it was over, finished. But the price had been too high. He'd fled from the battlefield vowing never to return to school or to the world that had given him so much only to take it away again. He would be lauded a hero, of that he was sure, but that would never bring back his best friend or his mentor.

So he had run and he had hidden for five years, moving around the country and often changing his appearance. But in that he'd found the freedom from expectation he'd been hankering after for years: the freedom to be 'just Harry'. The only person who had managed to track him down was Hermione, which was no more than he expected. She had promised to keep his whereabouts a secret, even from the Weasley family, who Harry really did not want to see, as long as he kept in regular contact. He had agreed grudgingly and used her as a go-between when he needed gold from Gringotts or potions supplies.

But standing here now in Diagon Alley, seeing Parvati again, Harry suddenly felt very lost and alone. He longed for some of the carefree days at Hogwarts again, when the biggest pressure had been the next essay deadline, and for the companionship he had back then. What good was being 'just Harry' if he had just Harry to share it with?

"Excuse me?"

Harry jumped and looked round. Parvati was standing right in front of him, frowning slightly.

"Excuse me, but do I know you?" she asked.

"Er -," stammered Harry. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't seen her approach.

"Only you keep staring at me," she continued sharply, not keeping her voice particularly low.

"Er -," he repeated, his voice strangely constricted, "Sort of..."

People were starting to look round at them, and Harry felt a sense of panic rise up within him. Parvati's eyes narrowed as she peered more closely at him, her lips pursed disapprovingly. Then their eyes met, and after a couple of seconds hers widened in recognition and her mouth dropped open in surprise. She leaned in closer to him.

"Harry?" she whispered incredulously. "Harry is that you?"

He gave the briefest hint of a nod, turned, and with a hand behind her shoulders guided her off down the street away from any prying eyes. When they reached a quieter stretch, she stopped and pulled away from him.

Turning to look directly into his eyes again, she said in a low, tremulous voice, "Harry, you look so... so different. I wouldn't have known it was you apart from the your eyes. Where have you been all these years?"

"Around." Harry shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.

"You know, some people thought you, well, that you'd died."

"I suppose a large part of me did die that day," Harry replied bitterly. "I was too lost - I mean, I lost too much."

Parvati eyed him appraisingly for a moment.

"Well, I'm glad I found you," she said. "Shall we go and get something to drink?"

"Not here," answered Harry quickly, "too many wizards, too many questions. But I know a nice little Muggle pub just up the road from the Leaky Cauldron."

"Lead on," smiled Parvati, linking arms with him just like she used to.

They walked arm in arm back up Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. It feels good to be found, thought Harry. Very good.

*