They left the house and made their way to the street, where Harry was surprised to find a sleek black car, that looked better situated for the 1920s than the 1990s, was parked. The door opened for them and once both were seated in the back seat, it started and drove away without a driver. Harry balked, a thousand odd, incredulous thoughts flitting too quickly through his brain.
"So… a wizard," Harry said, forcing himself to focus on something solid. At the moment, the most solid thing present was the snarkiest bastard he had ever had the misfortune to meet.
"Yes."
"And you're abducting me because I'm a wizard?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Snape didn't turn his head from the front window, but his dark glittering eyes slide over to him. "Wizards belong with wizards."
A jolt of excitement ran through Harry at the prospect. Other wizards? Like 'Mr. Tweed' and 'Miss Blue'? Like him? There must be other children wizards then. Would he finally make friends? Would he go to school again? Did they have schools just for wizards and witches? Wizarding teachers? Wait…
"Do you teach at a magic school, Professor?"
"Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest wizarding school in Europe." There was a definite sound of pride in the man's voice that time.
"Will I go to a magic school?"
"Can you read?"
"Yes."
"Can you write?"
"Yes."
"Can you cause spontaneous combustion, seal a room, and animate bed sheets into relative-eating monsters?"
"Er… I guess."
"Then the chances are that you'll go to Wizarding school. Considering the level of accidental magic you performed, you'll probably end up in Hogwarts, or maybe Redbridge if you continue to be an utterly incorrigible brat. Although... you're rather a bit older than most children WYRA comes to collect."
Harry shrugged. His thoughts were dizzy with the possibility of wizarding school. Of any school at all really. He hadn't been to school since he came to live with the Dursley's. They had been so convinced when the social worker dropped him off that he wouldn't know a sniff of English they had immediately went off into a long, meaningless dialogue that would be the defining moment for the rest of his life with them. Out of spite, and more than a little fear, he had not disillusioned them. It had been a very small, but very real power he had held over them. The only form of control he had over his life.
"Tell me, Potter, where are your parents?"
There was a pregnant pause.
"Potter?"
"They're dead, Professor. They've been dead for three years now," he said finally, and then, just to keep the other man from asking he continued. "They… they were shot to death in a robbery. In the middle of the day. Just like that. No one saw a thing. Perhaps if they had…"
There was another pause, one that Snape shared with his charge in quiet introspection of some past memory. Finally, the man plowed through the silence.
"Where was this?"
"Cologne, Germany."
"That would explain why it took so long for us to find you. You probably did accidental magic when you were younger, just not in England."
"There isn't a Child Abduction Squad in Germany?"
Snape let out a snort at the ridiculous title.
"WYRA's jurisdiction extends only to the British Isles. Germany's policies on magical children's upbringing is considerably more… liberal."
"But what is WYRA?"
"Look out your window and see for yourself."
In the fifteen minutes Harry had been concentrating on Snape, the view outside his window had changed from a monotonous suburbia to... something else. The roads were cobblestone, although the car ran smoothly along, and everything outside seemed to come out of a Victorian novel. Gas lamps lined the narrow street, illuminating shop windows with store names like "Madam Madora's Magical Menagerie" and "Popkin's Artificial Anatomy and Prosthetics". A few vendors selling jewelry, or furs, or small animal corpses were packing up for the evening, flicking their wands about until their stalls and wares folded themselves down to the size of a suit case. People strode about, many of the men dressed like 'Mr. Tweed' and the women in frilly full length dresses, most of them with robes of various colors in the place of jackets and shawls. Even as it was approaching eleven at night, the entire neighborhood was still bustling with activity.
Where were they? They couldn't possibly be anywhere in Little Whinging. But where could a community this large and this... unusual go unnoticed? Just as he was about to turn ask Snape that very question, the car stopped in front of a large official looking building.
At first, Harry though it was a bank with its Greek style collumns and sturdy stone architecture, but then he noticed the statue. It was a bronze statue of a tall, handsome man with a young boy on his right side and an even younger girl on his left, both clutching either of his hands. Harry noticed that while the man was dressed in elaborate robes, the children looked like he had just pulled them out of a slum in their tattered clothes. It all looked a bit contrived to Harry. Then he noticed that there were words written on the pith of the statue.
"Wizarding Youth Reclamation Agency," he read out loud. He turned to Snape, who was smirking at him. "It's an orphanage!"
"It is not an orphanage," the man snapped. "It's just was it says it is. A Reclamation agency. Only in this case, they reclaim wizarding children."
"And do what with them?"
Snape made a dismissive gesture. "Quarantine. Then adoption. Some preliminary education if necessary."
"It's an orphanage."
The Dark Man sent him a rather wicked smirk. "Orphanages are for children whose parents are dead or abandon them. I assure you most of the children you find here do not fall under that category. Now, get out of the car."
The car door opened, and Harry scurried out of it if only to avoid being mowed over by the taller man. He whirled around to face him, but was struck speechless when he realized the car they had arrived in had completely disappeared. He probably would have stood there gawking for several minutes, if Snape hadn't grabbed him by the collar and pulled him roughly towards the Agency's doors.
"Bloody hell, you really are a Child Abduction Agency. That's sick!"
"Oh, Mr. Potter, you have not even glimpsed the depravity of this world. This is likely the most humane aspect of our government that you will ever encounter. Now stop dallying. Your romp through wild suburbia has set us days behind schedule, and I do have more important matters to attend."
"Need to go back to your lair to pull the wings off pixies, eh?" Harry groused under his breath.
"Now that you mention it, I am running low," the man said evenly. Harry couldn't tell if he was joking or not. There was really no winning against this man... bat... ghoul... whatever.
They entered through a set of large marble doors inlaid with a carving of a phoenix, which opened and closed with an ominous rumble. Inside, Harry was surprised it looked just as grand as the outside. There was thick gold carpeting, antique but comfortable looking couches, several small potted trees, and pictures of children decorated the wall. Strangely enough, all the children in the paintings appeared to be asleep. He was dragged to what seemed to be the reception desk, and as Snape began talking to the pretty woman behind the counter, he thought he might have seen one of the children yawn.
"Did that-"
"Yes," Snape said, and then turned to leave. Confused, Harry moved to follow him, but the witch behind the counter placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She gave him a comforting smile.
"You'll be with me for now, sweetheart," she said.
"Oh."
Just as Snape reached the door, Harry remembered why he had been following the man in the first place. He turned back, slipping out of the woman's gentle grip, and ran towards him. "Hey! My book!"
Snape stopped. "What about it?"
"You said if I behaved and came along quietly I could have it back."They left the house and made their way to the street, where Harry was surprised to find a sleek black car, that looked better situated for the 1920s than the 1990s, was parked. The door opened for them and once both were seated in the back seat, it started and drove away without a driver. Harry balked, a thousand odd, incredulous thoughts flitting too quickly through his brain.
"So… a wizard," Harry said, forcing himself to focus on something solid. At the moment, the most solid thing present was the snarkiest bastard he had ever had the misfortune to meet.
"Yes."
"And you're abducting me because I'm a wizard?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Snape didn't turn his head from the front window, but his dark glittering eyes slide over to him. "Wizards belong with wizards."
A jolt of excitement ran through Harry at the prospect. Other wizards? Like 'Mr. Tweed' and 'Miss Blue'? Like him? There must be other children wizards then. Would he finally make friends? Would he go to school again? Did they have schools just for wizards and witches? Wizarding teachers? Wait…
"Do you teach at a magic school, Professor?"
"Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest wizarding school in Europe." There was a definite sound of pride in the man's voice that time.
"Will I go to a magic school?"
"Can you read?"
"Yes."
"Can you write?"
"Yes."
"Can you cause spontaneous combustion, seal a room, and animate bed sheets into relative-eating monsters?"
"Er… I guess."
"Then the chances are that you'll go to Wizarding school. Considering the level of accidental magic you performed, you'll probably end up in Hogwarts, or maybe Redbridge if you continue to be an utterly incorrigible brat. Although... you're rather a bit older than most children WYRA comes to collect."
Harry shrugged. His thoughts were dizzy with the possibility of wizarding school. Of any school at all really. He hadn't been to school since he came to live with the Dursley's. They had been so convinced when the social worker dropped him off that he wouldn't know a sniff of English they had immediately went off into a long, meaningless dialogue that would be the defining moment for the rest of his life with them. Out of spite, and more than a little fear, he had not disillusioned them. It had been a very small, but very real power he had held over them. The only form of control he had over his life.
"Tell me, Potter, where are your parents?"
There was a pregnant pause.
"Potter?"
"They're dead, Professor. They've been dead for three years now," he said finally, and then, just to keep the other man from asking he continued. "They… they were shot to death in a robbery. In the middle of the day. Just like that. No one saw a thing. Perhaps if they had…"
There was another pause, one that Snape shared with his charge in quiet introspection of some past memory. Finally, the man plowed through the silence.
"Where was this?"
"Cologne, Germany."
"That would explain why it took so long for us to find you. You probably did accidental magic when you were younger, just not in England."
"There isn't a Child Abduction Squad in Germany?"
Snape let out a snort at the ridiculous title.
"WYRA's jurisdiction extends only to the British Isles. Germany's policies on magical children's upbringing is considerably more… liberal."
"But what is WYRA?"
"Look out your window and see for yourself."
In the fifteen minutes Harry had been concentrating on Snape, the view outside his window had changed from a monotonous suburbia to... something else. The roads were cobblestone, although the car ran smoothly along, and everything outside seemed to come out of a Victorian novel. Gas lamps lined the narrow street, illuminating shop windows with store names like "Madam Madora's Magical Menagerie" and "Popkin's Artificial Anatomy and Prosthetics". A few vendors selling jewelry, or furs, or small animal corpses were packing up for the evening, flicking their wands about until their stalls and wares folded themselves down to the size of a suit case. People strode about, many of the men dressed like 'Mr. Tweed' and the women in frilly full length dresses, most of them with robes of various colors in the place of jackets and shawls. Even as it was approaching eleven at night, the entire neighborhood was still bustling with activity.
Where were they? They couldn't possibly be anywhere in Little Whinging. But where could a community this large and this... unusual go unnoticed? Just as he was about to turn ask Snape that very question, the car stopped in front of a large official looking building.
At first, Harry though it was a bank with its Greek style collumns and sturdy stone architecture, but then he noticed the statue. It was a bronze statue of a tall, handsome man with a young boy on his right side and an even younger girl on his left, both clutching either of his hands. Harry noticed that while the man was dressed in elaborate robes, the children looked like he had just pulled them out of a slum in their tattered clothes. It all looked a bit contrived to Harry. Then he noticed that there were words written on the pith of the statue.
"Wizarding Youth Reclamation Agency," he read out loud. He turned to Snape, who was smirking at him. "It's an orphanage!"
"It is not an orphanage," the man snapped. "It's just was it says it is. A Reclamation agency. Only in this case, they reclaim wizarding children."
"And do what with them?"
Snape made a dismissive gesture. "Quarantine. Then adoption. Some preliminary education if necessary."
"It's an orphanage."
The Dark Man sent him a rather wicked smirk. "Orphanages are for children whose parents are dead or abandon them. I assure you most of the children you find here do not fall under that category. Now, get out of the car."
The car door opened, and Harry scurried out of it if only to avoid being mowed over by the taller man. He whirled around to face him, but was struck speechless when he realized the car they had arrived in had completely disappeared. He probably would have stood there gawking for several minutes, if Snape hadn't grabbed him by the collar and pulled him roughly towards the Agency's doors.
"Bloody hell, you really are a Child Abduction Agency. That's sick!"
"Oh, Mr. Potter, you have not even glimpsed the depravity of this world. This is likely the most humane aspect of our government that you will ever encounter. Now stop dallying. Your romp through wild suburbia has set us days behind schedule, and I do have more important matters to attend."
"Need to go back to your lair to pull the wings off pixies, eh?" Harry groused under his breath.
"Now that you mention it, I am running low," the man said evenly. Harry couldn't tell if he was joking or not. There was really no winning against this man... bat... ghoul... whatever.
They entered through a set of large marble doors inlaid with a carving of a phoenix, which opened and closed with an ominous rumble. Inside, Harry was surprised it looked just as grand as the outside. There was thick gold carpeting, antique but comfortable looking couches, several small potted trees, and pictures of children decorated the wall. Strangely enough, all the children in the paintings appeared to be asleep. He was dragged to what seemed to be the reception desk, and as Snape began talking to the pretty woman behind the counter, he thought he might have seen one of the children yawn.
"Did that-"
"Yes," Snape said, and then turned to leave. Confused, Harry moved to follow him, but the witch behind the counter placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She gave him a comforting smile.
"You'll be with me for now, sweetheart," she said.
"Oh."
Just as Snape reached the door, Harry remembered why he had been following the man in the first place. He turned back, slipping out of the woman's gentle grip, and ran towards him. "Hey! My book!"
Snape stopped. "What about it?"
"You said if I behaved and came along quietly I could have it back."