AU Sixth year. When Harry is removed from the Dursleys in the summer of his sixth year for his own safety, the last thing he's expecting is to be propelled on a new adventure that this time, he's ...
Harry leaned over his keyboard, disconnecting several leads. As he finished up, a flash of black out in the audience caught his eye, and he swore.
"Harry? What is it?" Matt asked, concerned. "You didn't electrocute yourself again, did you?"
The green-eyed boy scowled at his university dormmate. "You just had to bring that incident up, didn't you?"
The heavy-set teenager grinned at him. "Well, it was such a memorable event..."
Harry's scowl deepened to a glare. "Oh, shove off..."
Sam sniggered as she helped Tony pack up his guitar. "Did you hear that? Just two years of suffering with us Northern barbarians and he's already sounding British."
The boy in question reached over and tried to swat his friend on the back of her head. She dodged the blow with an ease developed from much practice as the others laughed.
"So what does have you riled up?" Tony asked as the chuckles died down, running a hand through his sweat-darkened bangs. Being the only other non-Brit in the group, an American, in fact, he had some sympathy for the other teenager.
Harry grimaced and jerked his chin towards the audience. Sam followed the directed of his gaze and scowled. ''Great, that creep's still here."
"Creep?" Matt inquired curiously, raising a blonde eyebrow.
The slender young woman nodded. "Yeah. This really obnoxious guy was bugging Harry before the show."
"Boyfriend or stalker?" Matt's question was asked half in jest, half seriously. If his best friend was being stalked, he wanted to know about it, so he could give the creep a little toss out the door. And ditto for the boyfriend part; if his roommate really had picked up a new boyfriend, Matt really wanted to know about it, before he came home early and accidentally saw something he didn't particularly want to.
Harry sighed. "Why did I ever tell you guys I was bi? /No/, he's not my boyfriend. In fact, I'd rather not go near him with a ten-foot pole."
"Which one is he?" the last member of their little group asked abruptly as she peered out at the still surprisingly full tables with cold blue eyes.
"The one in black with the hook nose and greasy-looking hair," Harry answered irritably.
"An unpleasant fellow," Matt observed uneasily. "Especially since he's glaring at you." The blonde frowned at the strange man, and the entire group engaged in a brief staring contest with him.
"We should call the police," Katherine finally said, her hands wrapped around the neck of her base guitar. "He could be dangerous."
Harry blinked. "Do you really think that's necessary? He may honestly think I'm whoever he's looking for. I mean, he did know my name..."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Harry, honey, that just means he's a stalker who does his homework. He could've asked pretty much anyone in this bar and they could have told him your name."
"Which is even worse," Tony added, slipping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "If he's put any work into this whatsoever, he's not likely to give up, even if ya say 'please.'"
Katherine and Matt both nodded their agreement. "You want me to show him the door?" the stout drummer offered. "I could ask Uncle Robert not to let him back in."
Harry considered. He didn't really like asking Matt's uncle for favors, since the man had already done them a major one by convincing the owner of the bar he worked as the head bouncer in to hire their band. But... He glanced warily at the dark man in the booth, who was still staring at him, though he seemed less annoyed at the teenager than he had earlier and more puzzled.
And then there was the fact that he hadn't completely been telling the truth, before, about not having a clue who he was, or caring. "There is something... familiar about him," Harry admitted quietly. "I just can't quite..."
"If he's been stalking you, you might have caught a glimpse of him," Katherine suggested, her quick mind racing to come up with a possible explanation.
"Maybe..." the teenager grimaced. "He does look rather peeved with me, doesn't he? Maybe I should take you up on your offer," he said to Matt, looking worried.
"And it gets worse," Toby said in an undertone, staring out at the tables. "Looks like he just got some backup."
Severus breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Albus Dumbledore walk through the door, drawing stares as he went from the muggles, though thankfully not as many as he normally would, since his robes were an unusually tame solid navy blue. Fletcher slipped in behind him, and guided the older wizard towards the potions master's booth.
"Good evening, Severus!" the Headmaster greeted him cheerfully as he lowered himself into a seat. "I hear you and Mundungus found our boy!"
The Slytherin scowled. "Did he tell you the rest of it?" he inquired sarcastically. "The part where Potter's a damned /amnesiac/?"
Shockingly, Albus actually looked a little taken aback. "Amnesia? Dear me... That simply won't do." Severus stared at him in disbelief as the older wizard glanced around the room. "Well, where is he, then? I'd best have a little chat with him..."
Severus gave him an odd look. Did he really expect to just 'have a little chat' with the boy after the falling out the two of them had had only weeks ago? He didn't have a clue what their spat was about, but all throughout the last month of school Potter hadn't done anything except glare at the Headmaster and sulk.
Of course, Albus might have been counting on getting back on Potter's good side while he couldn't remember just why he was brassed off with the old man...
The potions master rose from the table with a heartfelt grimace. Oh, this just could not end well...
/When next Harry awoke, he was lying on a rather uncomfortable pallet. /Relatively uncomfortable, that was- compared to the floor it had been his misfortune to wake up on before, the straw-stuffed pallet was heaven. And his back agreed with him whole-heartedly.
So to speak, anyway...
Still, that left the matter of the various sharp pokey things digging into his skin, and the young wizard almost absently shifted, trying to find a position that didn't leave him full of holes.
"Finally awake, are you?"
Harry suppressed a groan as he heard the same irritated voice as the last time he'd been awake. He opened his eyes blearily, and found someone leaning over him.
The young man couldn't have been very much older than the Boy-Who-Lived, no more than a couple of years, in fact. He had dark brown hair, cut rather raggedly just above his ears. His skin was deeply tanned, and pale green eyes stared haughtily into Harry's own, far darker orbs.
"Well?/" he demanded. "/Who are you, then?"
Harry gave him a mental sigh, sitting up. Merlin, not this again. Didn't they have anyone who spoke English wherever the hell here was? Frustrated, he said nothing, and stared sullenly back at the stranger.
The stranger bristled at his silence, and leaned forward, his fists clenched in the lap of his strange white roads. "Are you mute or simply stupid? Who are you? Answer me, you impertinent peasant!"
By this point, Harry was getting truly annoyed, especially since he had the distinct feeling that he was being insulted. "Look," he hissed, his eyes narrowing, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, and I don't know what in Morgana's hells you're saying, but I am not going to sit here and just take it! Is that clear?"
Egan, youngest acolyte to the Sun Lord Apollo, blinked, taken aback as much by the strange syllables of the bizarre language as by the mysterious boy's irate tone and flashing eyes. Well, he obviously wasn't mute... And from the intelligence lurking in those emerald orbs, the priest doubted the other option applied, either.
Even if that was how he himself now felt. He hadn't even considered the possibility that the stranger might not know Greek, the most civilized tongue in the world.
He winced. He just knew Master Mateos would lecture him on having an open mind later on when he reported this conversation.
Egan rubbed his temples and leaned back on his short stool with a sigh. Now what? How in Hades' Underworld was he supposed to find out who the brat was if he couldn't talk to him?!
The 'brat' in question was studying him carefully from his pallet, glimmering green eyes thoughtful. The anger he'd displayed earlier seemed to have vanished, except for a certain wariness in his features. "What?" he snapped finally, though his voice wasn't nearly as sharp as it might have been.
"Harry," the boy said quietly, gesturing towards himself.
Egan frowned, puzzled, and the boy did it again. It was only then that the priest realized the stranger was trying to tell him his name. "Heh-ree?" he repeated, bemused by the outlandish name.
The boy shook his head. "Har-ry," he said carefully, and the young man repeated his name until the stranger seemed satisfied with his pronunciation. Then 'Harry' settled back on the pallet and stared at him with an air of expectation.
The sun priest stared back for a few moments, then realized what he was waiting for. "Egan," he said with the slightest of flushes, pointing to himself.
The boy nodded, murmuring his name to himself. Then Egan saw his eyes begin to droop, and rose. "Go ahead and get some more rest," he said quietly, feeling much more kindly disposed towards the youth than he had only a few minutes ago.
Harry blinked at him, obviously not comprehending his words, so he pointed to the pallet and molded his features into the appearance of command. "Sleep," he mock-ordered, and the boy grinned, lying down agreeably.
By the time Egan had left the Sun Temple's guest quarters, the strange child was fast asleep.