Chapter Text
Carrick Montgomery strode down the footpath, blinking quickly to avoid the tears that threatened. He had just visited his granny for the last time. She wasn’t about to die – no, not for a while yet. But tomorrow she would be moving into a nursing home, and Carrick couldn’t risk visiting her there. The staff would tell his parents, and then…
Carrick took a steadying breath, slowing his walk to try and calm himself, focusing on his surroundings. Dwelling on what had happened last time his parents had –
Carrick shook his head, determinedly pushing away those thoughts. He’d said goodbye to his granny, and she had understood. She was a squib, his granny, and yet strangely she was quite adamant that the Dark Lord had the right of things. Not so much the violence, she didn’t like that – but the beliefs about the danger of muggles. His parents had gotten sucked in with Dumbledore’s side, but granny and Carrick both knew that way led to the death and destruction of wizarding kind. Muggles would not react well to people with greater powers than them. At best, wixen would be test subjects in labs all over the world. At worst, genocide.
Carrick stopped in his tracks. Merlin’s teeth, he just couldn’t keep hold of his thoughts today! He closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths, focusing on the air moving in and out of his lungs, the sun on his skin, the smell of freshly mown grass hanging in the air. When he felt in control of himself again, Carrick opened his eyes and began to walk again. He usually walked a few blocks away from his granny’s before apparating, just in case his parents were looking for his magical signature nearby.
A sudden tingling feeling brushing over his skin was unexpected. Wards? In the middle of Surrey – in this extremely muggle neighbourhood? Carrick’s eyes darted around in confusion, before locking onto movement a few metres away.
A small boy, kneeling in a garden bed.
Carrick hesitantly moved closer, eyes darting around nervously.
The boy looked sunburned, and dirty. Soil smeared along his forehead from where he had clearly been wiping sweat away repeatedly. His clothes were filthy too. As Carrick came closer, he realised they weren’t just dirty from being in the garden – no, they looked like rags.
A small, dirty boy, dressed in rags and baking in the hot sun in the middle of the day.
Carrick’s eyebrows came down in a faint scowl. Who would let such a small boy stay out here in heat like this? Surely that wasn’t healthy!
Carrick ducked down a couple of metres away, trying to catch the boy’s eye. The boy stilled, clearly having seen him, but didn’t look up.
‘Hello, what’s your name?’ Carrick asked gently.
The boy didn’t move. He looked almost frozen with fear.
‘My name is Ca-‘ Carrick broke off, not sure whether he should say his name. He cleared his throat and continued on. ‘It’s awfully hot out here. Shouldn’t you head inside until the sun isn’t so hot? I’m sure you could use a cool drink?’
The boy grew even more stiff, but Carrick caught the flicker of his eyes towards the house, and the way the boy subtly leaned away. Carrick tried not to frown. He leaned a little closer, dropping his voice. ‘Is it not safe to go inside?’ he whispered.
The boy’s eyes flicked up to Carrick’s face, not quite making eye contact, but enough for Carrick to see the hint of surprise there. Hesitantly, the boy gave a single, small shake of his head.
Carrick’s heart clenched in his chest. The boy reached up to brush his sweaty hair off his forehead, and Carrick reeled back.
The boy startled and suddenly looked like a rabbit, ready to bolt. Carrick held up a hand to calm him, but the boy flinched hard and scrambled back, eyes wide and chest heaving. Carrick froze, not wanting to scare the boy any further.
‘It’s alright! It’s alright, you’re okay,’ Carrick said quickly. His mind raced. Harry Potter. In the middle of Surrey.
A dragging sensation began to pull at Carrick’s body – not very strong, but enough to be noticeable. Carrick blinked, looking around for the source. It didn’t feel like accidental magic, it wasn’t the boy – Potter. It felt more like… the wards. Carrick looked back at Harry Potter, burning in the sun, and he held out a hand. ‘I can take you away from here, Harry.’ He said softly.
Potter blinked, eyes flicking around in confusion, before settling on Carrick again.
‘Come with me, Harry. Take my hand, and I promise you won’t have to come back here again.’
Potter stared at Carrick’s chin for a long moment, before he slowly stood and took a hesitant step towards Carrick. The wards pulled harder at him, but Carrick resisted easily. He gently grasped Potter’s hand and led him to the edge of the wards. He paused, unsure what would happen when he tried to pull the boy through – but there was nothing. Potter gave no indication that he felt anything when he left the wards, and Carrick only felt the dragging sensation stop once he stepped over the boundary. He blinked, shocked that there seemed to be no other measures to keep the boy safe inside the wards. Perhaps there were silent alarms set to go off in the Auror offices or something? Carrick looked around nervously, before leading Potter a few steps away and gripping his hand tighter.
‘This will feel strange, but don’t let go, okay?’ Carrick said, a hint of urgency in his tone, then apparated them away.