Chapter 11: The Dark One Does Perry Mason
London, England
It was a very gloomy day on what should've been his first Valentine's Day as a married man. The baby's due date was around now, Harry thought as he arrived back at the Sirius's house—or he guess he should be calling it his home since he had been living there exclusively for about a half a year now and had been slowly but surely redecorating the place to somewhat resemble the Dark Castle, minus the dungeons and torture chambers.
Surprisingly though, it still contained a large library despite the fact that Belle had been long dead for several years now. Maybe, it was because of Hermione?
Who despite finding out he was basically evil incarnate—with some personality quirks belonging to Rumpelstiltskin and Harry Potter—had oddly enough decided to remain his friend. Though, he knew she didn't approve of him turning people into gastropods. She told him as much, when she had gotten over the Dark One reveal.
"I get that it's who you are, but it was a little weird to see." She said when she showed up at his doorstep after New Year's.
He raised an eyebrow. "No lectures, dearie?"
"I read about your nature err—what do you prefer to be called?"
"As I told you that night, Harry will work."
"But that's not your real name." She said, "It's— I can't believe I'm saying this, Rumpelstiltskin."
"Yeah, that is a unfortunate name, isn't it?"
"Well, there is also that unfortunate fairytale with the miller's daughter. Don't tell me that's true."
"It's overly exaggerated," He said. "I'll admit it though, that there's parts of me that aren't good and won't ever be good. But I'm still Harry; I mean, I've been Harry for seventeen years. Remembering who I once was doesn't erase seventeen years of memories or friendships."
She nodded her head, "You understand why I was a bit freaked out about it though. I mean, it's all a bit too much to take in."
"I understand," He said. "I honestly thought you bailed for Australia at this point."
She shook her head, "No, no, I promised to help you."
"Even if I'm the Dark One?"
"Especially if you're the Dark One." She said, "I need to keep you from turning everyone into a snail."
"Except for if their last name includes Goyle or Greengrass. Come on, I saw you laughing."
"I might've smirked once," She said. "When I wasn't completely freaked out. You did turn them into snails, that wasn't suppose to be possible. Then again, I never would've suspected my best friend to be, well, the Dark One."
"So we're still friends then?"
"Of course, as long as you don't turn me into a snail."
He remembered how relieved he felt that day. The way Hermione had looked at him after that confrontation at the hospital, he was afraid he had lost her forever. At least she hadn't outright called him a freak like Aunt Petunia used to.
The older part of him rolled his eyes at this thought; he really shouldn't have cared what Hermione had decided. But still that day at the hospital, when she put two and two together a part of him felt screwed. And another part of him berated himself for making one too many gastropod jokes.
He couldn't help himself though, being the Dark One tended to warp your humor into something that borderline between juvenile and sadistic. It was not a pretty combination and sometime was just downright cringe worthy.
He still could still believe the way her eyes bulged out when he had just turned Greengrass—or was it Goyle into a slug and was about to zap himself some salt out.
"Harry? Is that you?"
He thought about lying, but in the end he didn't. Because for one thing it had been one of the worst Christmases—if not days in his life—and for another thing Hermione wasn't just another simpleton in the Enchanted Forest.
"Guilty as charged, dearie? What gave it away, the slugs?"
She nodded and stammered out. "You shouldn't have been able to do that."
"I shouldn't be able to do a lot of things," He said. "I want to point out that Greengrass and Goyle deserved what they got. In fact, I think they both look far more attractive as gastropods."
"They look the same to me, really." She said, "And I talked to Greengrass, if anyone deserves to be a snail it's him but—but you can't do that, Harry."
"But I can," He said. "I've done it several times before."
"What are you talking about?" His only friend asked.
He sighed heavily, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," Hermione said.
"Okay, long story short. Harry Potter never really existed. Well, he did, and I'm him—but the real Harry died long before he was born."
"That makes no sense." She said, "How can you be you and not you?"
"Have you ever heard of the Dark One curse, Hermione?"
She frowned, "That's a legend, Harry."
"Oh, come on, Hermione. You're not that thick. Merlin is real. Is it that hard to believe that the Dark One would be real too?"
She frowned. "Okay, I won't rule it impossible, but what does the Dark One have to do with you?"
"I am the Dark One." He told her.
Her eyes bulged a little and then he explained everything. From his life as a peasant, to being cursed, to Bae leaving and trying to find him, to getting "killed" by Regina, to being reborn as Harry Potter because of the blood tie that the stillborn child shared to him.
Hermione just stared at him when he finished.
"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"
"It is a lot," She said. "I think I understand though."
"You need some space, don't you?" He asked. He knew it had been a bit much, he could only imagine how he would've felt if it had been her—or until this evening Ron—who told him the news. Though, at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if Ron was Regina reincarnated. He was about as traitorous.
Scratch that, Regina at least was pretty upfront most of the time. After all, she told him that she was going to kill him.
It was only his arrogance, that he thought she couldn't really do harm to him without the dagger.
Then again, he was arrogant enough to think that Ron wouldn't betray him. Though, Ron hadn't exactly thought what he did to him was betrayal. And Harry could sort of understand where he was coming from, if he was drunk and lived in a delusional world.
Hermione looked at him, "I think it might be good to call it a night. It has been a pretty crappy Christmas."
He nodded.
"Err, Harry," She said before she left.
"Yes?"
"Don't do anything crazy," She said. "I should tell you to put those two back, but they actually do make better slugs than people."
"You didn't find anything, did you?" He asked changing the subject to Emma.
She shook her head. "I'll keep looking though. I just need to—"
"I get it," He said. "I'll give you your space."
He sighed heavily at the recollection as he walked into the manor. "Well, that was a dead end. You'd think being a certified loony tune would make Bellatrix easy to catch. Hermione?"
"I'm on the phone, Harry." She called from the living room.
He raised an eyebrow. Although, they had a landline installed in the house, they hardly ever used it unless one of them were desperate for muggle pizza, which didn't happen that often because of the wards and the need to have to actually drive to the muggle pizza place and pick up the pie.
"Don't tell me you decided to order pizza," He snapped as he walked into the kitchen where the phone was. "I'm not in the mood to get out there again. So dreary, dearie."
"I'm not on the phone with the pizza place," Hermione said. "It's the private investigator that I hired in America, Harry. I think I found Emma."
Boston, Massachusetts
His wife was in jail.
Doing time, apparently, for murder of all things.
He shook his head, as he looked over the slim case transcript of State v. Swan as he sat in his hotel room getting ready to go to the prison to visit his wife.
He felt his whole body raging as he read the case file. It was sort weird how all the legal terms and motions and everything were easy for him to understand. A part of it was probably from being the master dealmaker in the Enchanted Forest, and another part of it was probably a side effect from the curse. Although, Regina had ended up killing him, she had set the bare bone constructs to what would've been his alternative identity before tearing out his heart, which involved him being some type of lawyer. Which was actually sort of useful.
Especially since he was going to use this legal knowledge to get his wife free.
Hermione hadn't like the fact he had planned on going to America alone like this, but she really didn't have much choice. She had been meticulously planning their trip, reading American legal books herself. But after a few days of planning, Harry had had enough and poofed in the middle of the night to America to handle things himself.
He knew what his best friend would say, that he was being hasty and impulsive, but he couldn't bare thinking about his wife being locked up for much longer. As he was thinking about this his mobile rang.
He sighed heavily looking at the ID—Hermione. "I'm sorry," He said. "But I had to come here."
"You couldn't wait for me to get done researching her case?" Hermione said.
"I told you I have sufficient legal knowledge," He said. "Besides, I might result to Plan S."
"No, you are not going to turn everyone into a slug." Hermione snapped. "That would be no sort of life for Emma. Look how being on the run effected Sirius."
He sighed heavily, knowing that Hermione was right. Although, he could easily zap Emma out of jail—even create a new identity for her as the Dark One—it wouldn't be a life she wanted. Let alone, a life an obliviated woman would be able to understand.
"I never said everyone," Harry said. "I am going to try to do things through the proper procedures. The American justice system, while crooked, isn't like our own esteemed ministry at the moment. When their mistakes are made known, they like to play hero. I'm sure that Rumford Gold, esteemed attorney, will win lawyer of the year after this."
"Rumford, that's your name?"
"It's the name on the fictional law license that Regina made for me." He said, surprised he knew this information. "Though, she never gave me the faux memories of being made fun of for such a name. Probably because she believes I'm dead. It's okay though; I think those memories of being named Rumpelstiltskin should suffice. Besides, the lucky bastard can shorten the name to Ford."
"After a car? I don't think that's much of a step up."
"It's still better than Rumford, dearie. Though I do think I prefer Harry to it."
"I do too," She said. "I'm flying out there."
"Hermione,"
"Seriously," She said. "I am not going to let you Dark One it about, especially when this concerns Emma's freedom."
"This concerns my wife, Hermione. I'm not going to muck things up for her." He said.
"I know. But she's been obliviated. She won't recognize you at all, Harry. And I know the way the ministry obliviates, it's not like what I did to my parents."
He sighed heavily knowing she was very right. Oblivation was a tricky spell, he had been researching it as much as he could. He even took a few guinea pigs—okay, Ron—to see if he could reverse the effects. After performing a ministry standard curse on Ron, Ron no longer recognized him whenever Harry proceeded to test various curses on him.
Not that Hermione knew he had Ron in a box, but at this point it didn't really matter (much) since she claimed to have washed her hands entirely from the redhead.
"I can't believe all he left me was a lousy note." She said. "He was caught and couldn't even face up to what he did. He really was sorted into the wrong house."
"Well, what other house would've taken him?" Harry asked, "I know they say Hufflepuffs take everyone, but Ron lacks the requisite loyalty. I won't even comment on Ravenclaw and Slytherin."
She sighed heavily and shook her head before raising her wand to burn the letter. "I'm done."
It seemed like most of the Weasleys were too. Even Ginny seemed finished with her brother and for the most part her mother. She had actually sent Harry a note apologizing for Christmas. She didn't need to though, he told her that much, and apologized for the jab made towards her hair.
He might've not liked the girl, but that didn't mean he wanted to hurt her feelings or embarrass her.
"So, are you going to the prison today?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," He said. "I think it's time that Ford meets his client, don't you think, dearie?"
She sighed, "Don't take it personally if she doesn't recognize you. I'll be there tonight."
"Hermione?"
She had already hung up.
Of course, he didn't expect Emma to recognize him, he was after all in Ford Gold's form after all not his—well, not the form he had worn for the most part seventeen years. Though, he guessed they did look a little bit alike. There was a slight genetic similarity, though Ford was a couple of inches shorter than him, and the hairstyle was now sort of similar. However, Ford wore tailored suits and carried a fancy smancy cane—for show purposes only—and Harry had found himself wearing snakeskin cloaks, trousers.
Although, he had to admit that the suit served its battle purpose in the jail, since after seeing him in his suit that cost as much as small animal surgery they were more than willing to be accommodating to his request to see his wife.
Or new client since Emma didn't even know she was Emma Potter.
He sighed heavily as he sat in the hard metal chair waiting to see her, wondering if anything would spark his memory.
Don't be a love sick fool, a voice in the back of his mind snapped. This wasn't going to be a happily ever after. Emma wasn't going to come in there with a baby in her arms and fall into his arms.
The baby was long gone; he didn't know why he held out some sort of hope when there had been nothing in Emma's file indicating that she was pregnant when she was taken in. In fact, other than the quick plea deal and the admonishment by the judge he really had nothing.
Only that he knew his wife couldn't be a murderer.
But they practically treated her like a murderer; he soon realized when he heard the sound of chains being dragged.
Oh, this would not do.
"Is that really necessary?" He heard himself asking the guard.
"Standard protocol."
He then muttered something about the eighth amendment before his eyes focused on his wife.
She was a sight for sore eyes.
Emma looked beyond frazzled, like she hadn't slept in months. She probably hadn't. Her hair was longer than Harry remembered, and was thrown haphazardly in a low ponytail.
Her glorious body was hidden behind the standard issued baggy orange jumpsuit, Harry felt an urge to wave his hand and put her in the finest gown of silk but it would be too much show. And besides there was a broken look about her.
She seemed to laugh when he offered his help.
"Help?" She said, "How can you help me, I have nothing?"
He sighed heavily taking that as confirmation that the baby was gone. He knew what Ron said, and the likelihood that the baby was gone, but still he had been hoping for—
Hoping for what? Emma didn't even seem to recognize anything; she looked at him like a complete stranger and didn't even cringe when he called the guard "dearie"—though he kept up with the habit he was trying to form to not refer to Emma as "dearie" at all.
He hated talking to her about the case, but it was after all the pretense for him being here and he was going to get off. The more he heard about Purvis Bernard, the angrier he got. He knew after he got done talking to Emma—he and Purvis would be having a little heart to heart.
That Dark One pun never got old, even after three hundred years. Emma looked at him, "You really think you can help me, Mr. Gold."
"Please, call me, Ford." He said. "Mr. Gold makes me feel so old."
Actually, he wanted her to call him Harry, but he needed to keep up the pretenses.
"So, Ford." She said, "Really, you were named after a car?"
"My full name is much worse." He said, "Besides, haven't you read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? There's an awesome character named Ford in it."
" It's my favorite book, I know who you're talking about. Ford Prefect. And he's an alien. So the name is still strange, if you think about it that way."
"You have a point," He said. "Talking about my name though isn't really helping your case though, is it?"
She shook her head. "No, I suppose it isn't. It's just good to talk to someone other than a guard."
"Ms. Swan, no need to apologize." Harry said, "I just didn't want to waste your time."
She laughed like he had said something completely funny, he must of gave him a weird look because a moment later she said, "I'm sorry. And please, call me Emma. And no, you're not wasting my time. I have nothing, Ford, and honestly I sometimes think I deserve it."
"You don't deserve this, Emma." He said, "You didn't kill Ralph Miller."
She then started to laugh. "You don't know that, God knows, I don' t even know it."
It was then he realized how broken his wife was.
He had thought about going to Purvis Bernard's house and killing him as soon as the guard made him leave Emma, but he didn't. He remembered what Hermione said, "Don't be rash."
But after some time passed he wondered if it was really rash ripping the guy's heart. He really didn't think it was. He could get what he wanted and fast. Which was why he was putting on his basilisk gloves when there was a knock on his hotel room.
He frowned when he saw Hermione standing there.
"I see I arrived just in time," She said eying his get up—he was now in Harry form complete in basilisk skin regalia. "Conspicuous much?"
"Sometimes it's good to be showy," Harry said. "Especially when you're about to go all Dark One on the SOB of an attorney who ruined your wife's life."
"Harry," Hermione said. "No."
"You should've seen Emma."
"No," Hermione said. "You're not going to kill him, it will be suspicious."
"I wasn't going to kill him, per say." Harry said. "I was just going to get answers, have him admit he was wrong. And then have him drop dead of a heart attack."
"Harry," Hermione said again. "If they find him dead now, Emma's chance is going to be blown. Be smart about this, Purvis could be useful."
"As a snail."
She shook her head. "You really were much more methodical in those books I've read about you."
"Seriously, you read about me, dearie?"
"I sort of wanted to know what I was getting into having a Dark One as a best friend. There had to be a reason why Purvis was so unwilling to represent Emma."
"Exactly, which is why I'm going to have a heart to heart with him."
She shook her head at him, as she mentioned something about heading to one of the various law libraries that Boston had. "Just don't do anything rash," She said. "Act how you would before you were Harry Potter."
"So, be a tyrannical imp."
"A tyrannical methodical imp," Hermione said. "And I don't want to hear about a dead Purvis Bernard when I turn on the news tomorrow. FYI, if it was me I'd ditch the basilisk skin trousers and go for the Armani suit. Purvis might be more willing to talk to you that way"
She might have a point there.
He ended up calling Purvis Bernard that night. Stating that he wished to set up a meeting with the man. Imagine to his surprised when the man seemed to recognize his name—apparently, Regina's curse had warped its way all the way to Boston by having people actually think that Ford Gold was a real criminal attorney. He supposed he had an office somewhere too.
A couple of searches on Google later he found out he did.
This was so weird.
He wondered how his absence was explained for eighteen years. Apparently, he must've been in his office in "Storybrooke" a lot.
Storybrooke, was she for real?
Rumple guessed the town's name made enough sense given how everyone in this world thought they were all fairytale characters or legends, if you were counting the wizarding world.
Hermione shook her head the next morning when she saw him in Gold form drinking a cup of coffee.
"You still creep me out when you look like that," She snapped.
"Sorry, dearie. But I'm taking your advice. Do you know that Regina's curse somehow hooked me up with a law office in Boston? Convenient, huh?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Very convenient. Almost too convenient. You sure she doesn't realize your alive and it's some sort of a trap?"
"I doubt it," He said. "Regina never checks her work. She has potential to be a great sorceress, but if you don't check for mistakes you get messy. It's probably a side effect to the modifications of the curse we made. I found out that her new kingdom is called "Storybrooke" and it's in somewhere in New England. The largest city close to Storybrooke is Boston, you do the math."
"It still sounds a bit out there, almost like a gigantic magical plot hole."
"Just go with it, dearie." He said, "It works and you'll find you won't have as big of a migraine if you don't think about the nitty gritty."
She sighed heavily, "And you're sure the office exists?"
"I called my receptionist, Marcia, this morning. She is getting my office ready. Apparently, I haven't been to the Boston office in years. They're in dire need of my presence. I have a meeting with Purvis at ten, you have anything for me?"
And now Hermione smiled. "Yes, some relatively new case law that you might find of interest. And I believe that I found some very interesting connections that Purvis has with bonus photos."
"Bonus photos? You must have been very busy last night."
Hermione shrugged, "I had a drink with the P.I. that's all. I thought I'd thank him for all the hard work he did, and—well, I asked him to see what he could find surrounding Emma's case a few weeks earlier when we found out she was in jail. Of course, I didn't think I was going to have to get him to rush things but—this should allow Ford Gold to have some fun today."
"You want to come?" Harry asked. "You deserve to watch the fun."
She blushed. "I, actually, was going to meet with Graham for breakfast. You know as a thank you."
"Graham?" He asked.
"The P.I." Hermione said.
"Hermione?"
"No," She said. "He's way too old. Besides, I think he's seeing someone. I just wanted to give him a proper thank you. He's helped us lots."
Harry nodded. "You never told me how you found him anyway?"
She shrugged. "I don't know really, he called me and told me where to find Emma out of the blue. Apparently, the private detective world in America is a very small place and he made contact with one of the ones we previously hired."
Harry nodded his head, and didn't know what to quite make of it before he poofed to his office.
Oh, how he made a good bargain, he thought as he looked at the splendor that was The Gold Law Firm, PLLC. The building was truly outstanding and people were kissing his ass as if he was the second coming or something.
He rolled his eyes at all of this, he guessed that Regina hadn't thought nothing of their little bargain and hadn't set any limits to it since she thought he was dead.
Even he was impressed with it, which was saying a lot.
"Mr. Gold," Marcia said. "Your ten o'clock is here?"
Harry couldn't help but smile as that rodent Purvis Bernard walked into his office. As Purvis took in the Persian carpets, the expensive artwork hanging on the door, the oversized antique desk. It was a sight.
From first appearance, Bernard reminded him a bit like his so called Uncle Vernon—washed up, full of self-grandeur, and sadly losing his hair.
"Mr. Gold," He said. "It was such a pleasure to hear from you."
"Take a seat, Bernie." He said.
"Bernard is actually my last name," He said. "Purvis is the first name."
Gold waived his hand wanting to take the guy's tongue right there and then. "Do you know why I asked you to come here today?"
Bernard shrugged. "No idea. I thought maybe you or one of your associates saw me in court and wanted to make a job offer."
Was he serious?
Bernard caught his eye roll. "Um, so that's not it?"
"Sorry, for the misconception." He said, "But no, that's not why I called you here. You do realize that my firm will occasionally take on a couple of pro bono cases if it's an interest to this firm. Mostly we take them in the trial phase, but occasionally we take on appellate cases when it concerns a matter of gross injustice."
"That's nice, but I don't know why this concerns me."
"Emma Swan."
God, Purvis was a sneaky bastard, his face didn't even flinch not once when Harry said her name.
"I don't know who you're talking about?" The man after he and Harry had a stare off for approximately five minutes.
"I think you do," Harry said as he threw the case file of Swan v. State towards Purvis.
Purvis glimpsed through the thin trial transcript. "Oh, yeah, the Swan case. What of it? The girl did it. I got her a plea deal. She should be lucky she didn't get death. Probably would've had she gone to trial. Please, don't tell me this is your case of 'injustice'."
Harry wanted to roll his eyes and inform Purvis that there was no death penalty in Massachusetts but he didn't. He didn't have time for such technicalities. Instead, he decided to lay his cards on the table. "But it is, dearie. See, I just had to represent, Emma, after I found out that her attorney was sleeping with the real murderer.
He then threw a picture of Diana Miller kissing Purvis.
He smirked, "So, are you ready to make a deal?"