All Away
Harry Potter wasn't sure how long he'd sat in the rubble and dust, muttering incantations to himself interspersed with hacking coughs. It could've been minutes or hours, as his mind was lost in an abyss of time; every moment infinite yet no more or less distinct from any other. His weary eyes danced over the familiar elements of broken furniture once in assembly, causing him to stop from his ceaseless incantation for moments at a time to cry more, sobbing uncontrollably while Geist in his mind spoke words that the part of Harry's brain usually responsible for translating them from pure intent into British English was too tired to convey.
At one point he'd stood up, clenched his fists, and lashed out with his foot, kicking at the standing remnant of a wall in futility, before falling over from sheer vertigo and landing on top of the broken kitchen table. And there, clutching the miraculously still-attached table legs, as if for support, he kept crying and chanting spells.
And such was the state the Auror team recovered him in.
A young woman in somber black robes had taken Harry up, away from the collapsed and overturned table, and gently led him away from the rubble of Privet Drive 4, as if prompting him to leave it behind. He felt disgusted and horrified at the idea, but his feet moved on their own, without conscious input.
They made a stop outside, at the sidewalk, where men in robes had stopped the flow of traffic, including police cars and ambulances. There was something of a stand-off now, bobbies yelling and making orders at the Aurors who refused to budge. The Auror woman brought Harry in front of a man with the facial features and grace of a lion, a mane of tawny hair with gray streaks, wearing a brown trenchcoat and wielding a gnarled staff of oaken wood. A grim look adorned his face as he looked emptily at the collapsed Dursley house. He introduced himself, but Harry didn't listen and didn't hear his name, and noticing this, the man said something to the woman, and she led him away.
And then he sat, on the back edge of a horse-drawn carriage that seemed to have no horses, and he observed the scene unfold. All of the events of the night started to blur together incomprehensibly in his mind, as if someone had bleached a sharp line of the portrait and then rubbed it so raw the sharpness dissolved into a smear covering half the painting - the moment where several bodies were wheeled out on gurneys no more distinct in his mind than when he'd seen an Auror fall over with his throat split. He felt stuck. Like someone had pressed a button in his brain so hard that something gave in, and now the button was stuck and couldn't be unpressed.
As the scene developed, a squad of Obliviators wiping away the memories of the Muggles as he'd seen them do some time ago, a team of consultants forming a plausible explanation for the incident, Harry received a warm blanket from someone and was later asked if he needed anything - to eat or to drink. He'd simply said no.
All of it was blurred, indistinct, smoky - an impressionist's painting of a memory. And there was something twisted about it, something off.
Everything changed, at least partially, when he arrived - maybe an hour into the incident, once the investigation and clean-up efforts were long underway, maybe even nearing their zenith. He was a gaunt and thin man, maybe as tall as Aunt Petunia had been, and he was very old, judging by the shining moonsilver of his splendid hair and thick beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing light blue robes, a white cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. As he walked through the scene, the atmosphere changed palpably, and Harry found himself running in his direction before he even knew who the man was, to cry into his stomach.
"Oh Harry," said Albus Dumbledore. "I'm so sorry."
Nothing else was said, at least, not until Harry was done crying. At that point, Mr. Dumbledore had introduced himself and offered Harry to sit down with him, so they could talk and figure out what happened. Slowly, in between stops, pauses, and sobs, Harry recounted the night's events in a shaky puzzle of images, and though he kept pouring the events out of himself as fast as he could, Dumbledore had told him multiple times to slow down, take his time; to reassure him that it was horrible and wretched, what had happened, and that he didn't need to hurry anywhere, that they could take their time.
As sedate as the old man's appearance was, these words, too, blurred into the night's events, with Harry's brain too exhausted to even begin processing them. Almost respectfully, Geist had kept silent for the rest of the night, though Harry could feel his lingering presence in his mind.
An hour into his somber appearance, as the scene was being cleaned up - the police and ambulances long gone, only a small team of Aurors left on the scene, and the only major undertaking they had to take care of was to transport Harry somewhere else for the night and obliviate the neighbors - Dumbledore offered Harry to stay at his brother's house for a couple of nights until they could figure out better accommodations for him. Dumbledore promised Harry that he would have input over what happened next, that there was no reason to be afraid for now - the shadows were gone.
Are you there? Harry asked, his mind feeling like the cold strum of a cordless guitar.
I am, Geist said, You haven't been listening or even hearing. I understand. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry.
Not your fault, Harry thought at him, putting the issue aside, even as he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, You- You have memories of being a wizard, right? Scattered memories, but you recognized that Bellatrix woman.
A note of hesitation appeared in Geist's response, but he did respond, Ye-es.
I- Should I go with Dumbledore? To his brother's place?
A moment of thought, as Geist considered the question in depth. I don't think we have any other choice. I don't want to give you biased advice, Harry, so here's what I'll say about him for now: Dumbledore, as far as I know, isn't a threat to you. If he trusts someone, I think we can trust them as well.
A heavy silence ruled the street that Harry was on - Privet Drive. As the night continued, the commotion of familiar neighbors and people coming out to see began to wane and then finally die down, Obliviators and Aurors cleansing away the memories of bystanders. As Harry was about to vocalize his decision, Geist interrupted him.
Harry, wait.
Yeah? he asked tiredly.
Do- Do you trust me?
Harry didn't have to think long about it. Yes. You're- You're a pain, but you're my friend, too.
What he didn't, actively, think was that Geist was probably one of his only friends left, aside from rats and friends that he'd shared with Dudley. And he wasn't sure he'd be able to face the latter group, not without his cousin.
I need you to speak some words for me, in a specific way, and channeling specific emotions. I know it'll seem weird, and arbitrary. It's-
I'll do it. What words?
"I hate this," Harry said, quoting Geist - prompting Dumbledore to look over with concern - voice dipping low, "I can't bear it. Why? Why did this happen, Mr. Dumbledore?"
The old wizard's features softened into a deep remorse as he listened.
"Harry..." And then, Geist spoke - no longer as a basis for Harry to quote, but in unison with Dumbledore, as if equally predicting and testing the man, "Muggles die when wizards fight. It's the saddest and most horrible truth of the world we live in, something that I learned myself, and not without consequences. I pray for a day when this is no longer the case; when our kind can be responsible enough with our powers that it does not result in the loss of people who are innocent, and I hope that day is soon."
So it's you, Albus. Let's go, Harry.
Upon receiving his assent, Dumbledore took Harry by the arm and made them both Apparate.
---
As per his promise, Harry would have input on who he'd live with from now on.
[ ] Sirius Black
According to Dumbledore, Sirius Black is your godfather, and the person your parents designated as your guardian should they ever die. However, after their death, he became depressed and inconsolable; a terrible drunkard, and not in the state to take care of a child; he begged Dumbledore to find someone who'd be able to take better care of you. As the years passed, Sirius cleaned up his act, slowly, and even became a professor, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, now teaching the subject for over five years as its most stable paragon and educator. Hogwarts is the magic school that you're supposed to be going to in the future.
As such, there is a minor logistical issue, in the fact that he won't be able to personally attend to you for most of the remaining year until the summer arrives, but his House Elf should be able to care for you in the meantime, at least in the departments of meals and laundry.
Geist Opinion: "By himself, I think Black is trustworthy and reliable. Although I must say his choice of profession betrays what I can only rightfully call refined anti-wisdom. I suppose he was feeling suicidal after what happened to your parents."
If you'd prefer someone who can take care of you until the summer, however, Dumbledore is aware of several magical families that'd be willing to take you in. And you had to admit, the prospect of meeting a family of people who could do the same things as you sounded like a good distraction from what happened.
[ ] The Weasley Family
A large wizarding family, popular in most social circles, Dumbledore trusts in their kindness and the inner mother of Molly Weasley, knowing her to be a person that can take good care of you. He'd be more than happy to introduce you to them and knows they'd be more than happy to have you as a guest until the end of the summer.
Geist Opinion: "I think Molly's fine, but I never liked the father, and I can't remember why. Did he bully me in school or something?"
[ ] The Diggory Family
Amos Diggory is one of the Ministry of Magic's most reliable workmen - according to Dumbledore, he is fair, kind, and has expressed an eagerness to meet you in the past (a fact which confused you, but with Dumbledore promising to explain later,) so Dumbledore is confident that he'd be a reliable caretaker.
Geist Opinion: "Amos is fine, I think. Also, the longer I think about it, the more I realize that every person of import I ever met now works for the Ministry of Magic, and isn't that a chilling thought?"
[ ] The Longbottom Family
A family of Aurors, and they have a son your age, whom Dumbledore states with confidence has similar interests to you, and thinks you could become good friends. Although something in you aches at the thought, his offer seems to be genuine. Also, apparently, you already met Alice Longbottom - she was the one to help you out of the rubble.
Geist Opinion: "Ugh. If I ever get any physical money, I will pay you to pick someone else."
[ ] The Lovegood Family
A very jovial sort, or so says Dumbledore. However, the moment their name was brought up, Geist began screaming loudly in your head and only stopped after five seconds, upon realizing there wasn't actually a Lovegood in the room.
Geist Opinion: "Anything but these people, Harry. I'm pretty sure the husband snorts chalk dust. Why is this even an option? Dumbledore must have rocks in his head!"
