Realistic Harry Potter

The taxi drove Harry to his first destination, a barber shop. Harry hadn't been out into the downtown area before, so he looked around like he was a tourist that was visiting a new and wonderful place.

“Geez, kid. You're rubbernecking pretty quickly there.” The driver said. “Haven't you been around here before?”

“No.” Harry said, his face pressed to the glass and his slightly sore eyes took in everything.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep it up.” The driver said and parked. “I didn't take you far for a whole tenner, so I'll wait and take you somewhere else. Then I have to get home to eat.”

Harry nodded and opened the door, grabbed his trunk, and stepped out. He walked over to the shop with the Barber sign and went inside. It was practically deserted, since a lot of people were like the taxi driver and were heading home to eat.

“Hey, kid.” A grizzled older man said and walked over to him while cleaning a pair of scissors with a cloth. “Are you looking for someone?” He asked. “A parent, maybe?”

“No. I need a haircut.” Harry responded.

The barber gave his head a glance and chuckled. “Son, you needed a haircut a long time ago. Now? The bush on your head needs a good trimming.” He waved to one of the chairs. “Hop on and I'll give you a lift.”

“Huh?” Harry looked at the older man in confusion.

“Climb aboard and you'll see.” The barber said and walked over to the chair in question. “You can put your trunk by the wall there.” He waved and then put the scissors down and picked up an electric hair cutter.

Harry walked over to the wall and put the trunk down and went over to the chair. He climbed on and he could clearly see the trunk. He nodded slightly and the old man turned to him with a smile.

“Here we go.” The older man said and started to push on a foot pedal beside the chair. The chair rose up from the floor quickly and he stopped it at the right height for him to work. “Quite a ride, isn't it?”

Harry just nodded, because he didn't have the heart to tell the man that he had flown through the air on a motorcycle less than ten minutes ago.

The old man started the electric clippers and Harry eyed them warily. “Don't worry, I'm just taking off the thick matted parts.”

Harry nodded and the man started to hum to the soft music playing in the background and started to take swipes at Harry's unruly hair. The pile on the floor grew as the man worked, then he gave a satisfied sigh and nodded.

“All right, I'm at a good starting base now. What kind of cut do you want?”

Harry opened his mouth to say, then realized that he had no clue what he wanted.

The older man laughed. “I've got a good picture book for what you can get. Do you want to look?”

Harry nodded and the man went to the counter and came back with a small booklet. He opened it and looked at the different styles that were available and his eyes hurt some more.

“You better not ask me for a Mohawk or anything else crazy.” The man said with a smile. “Do you see anything you like?”

“I'm not sure.” Harry said. “I need to dress up for a portrait and she only said to get a haircut.”

“Ah. I see.” The older man said and flipped a couple of the pages. “This is the best look for standing out in a picture.” He said and showed Harry a short haircut that was buzzed halfway up his head and left a half decent amount of hair on top. “It can be styled after that, slicked down, parted, or just left to flow around all willy-nilly like.” He chuckled. “I'm going to assume you'll do the last, since your hair doesn't look like it's ever been combed.”

“I've never had a comb.” Harry said, to the man's surprise. “Okay, I'll get this cut.”

“Take off your glasses and I'll get to work.” The old man said and changed the head on the electric clippers to make it as short as possible. “I better give you a quick wash, too. Just in case.”

Harry took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. To his surprise, his eyes stopped hurting and he blinked them and rubbed them. His mouth dropped open slightly as he looked at his reflection in the mirror that was almost ten feet away and the Harry that sat there wasn't blurry!

I'm not wearing my glasses and I can still see! Harry exclaimed in his head, shocked.

The older man didn't notice Harry's reaction and hummed as he worked. After a quick shampoo, rinse, and dry, the man started cutting. It only took ten minutes for the man to finish the stylish haircut and to give him another quick wash and dry. Harry almost didn't recognize himself in the reflection. Instead of the wavy mess that used to be on his head, he now had a half fade and a nice tuft of hair on the top.

“Yep, you look great with your hair like that.” The older man said. “I bet your gonna be real handsome in any portrait you're in.”

Harry remembered that Madam Malkin's words were almost identical to that and nodded. “How much?”

“Just a ten pound note.” The older man said. “I really shouldn't charge you that much, being it's your first time and all.” He sighed and waved at the empty store. “I need to make a living.”

Harry nodded and handed over the money. “How long will it last?”

“In three months, the sides and back will start getting too long to keep the right shape for the look.”

“Okay.” Harry said. “I'm going to... boarding school and I'll try to come back by then.”

“Or find someone to maintain it for you if you can't come back.” The older man said and handed Harry his very first comb. “I won't mind losing a customer as long as you keep your hair done up right.”

Harry nodded and put the comb in his back pocket, picked up his trunk, and left the barber shop. The taxi was waiting there and the driver gave Harry an approving nod.

“Looking good, kid.” The driver said. “Where to next?”

“Is there a mall or something? I need better clothes than these.” Harry said and plucked at the dirty and baggy t-shirt he wore.

“Do you even know what you want to buy?” The driver asked, his voice full of skepticism.

Harry thought he did, then doubted that he did. “I need... jeans and... shirts? No, t-shirts.”

The driver shook his head. “My wife is going to kill me.” He said and sighed. “Come on. Get in.”

Harry climbed in the back and put the trunk down. The driver pulled away from the curb and drove to one of the large strip malls. There were lots of stores there that someone could buy clothes from.

“How much money do you have?” The driver asked.

Harry was pretty sure that he didn't want to tell him the full amount, so he pretended to look through his money bag. “Um... a hundred and... thirty pounds... and five pence.”

The driver didn't quite gasp at the amount; but, he did make another car honk their horn at him for drifting across the center line. “Sorry!” He waved out the window. Damn, I can't be distracted like that. He thought. “All right. That's a bit more than I thought you would have.” He said and glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Harry's frown. “It must be birthday money or something, right?”

Harry's face brightened at the excuse. “Yes! Today's my birthday!” He said. “I got a cake, too!”

“Well, happy birthday.” The driver said. “When we stop, I just have to call home for a minute.”

Harry nodded and went back to looking out the window at all of the things he had never seen before. He really liked that he didn't need his glasses anymore. It was then that Madam Primpernelle's words came back to him. 'I wouldn't have any return business if my products made things permanent'.

Harry knew that he would have to somehow ask her about how often he would need to come back for another dose of her special potion.

*

Albus was beside himself. He had done so much meticulous planning and arranging things to have certain events play out, and now he had a nearly inconsolable grounds keeper telling him all about how Professor Quirrell had become nothing but a dust pile. And a ghost.

Albus didn't sigh out loud and he didn't drop his head into his hands to lament the loss of having Voldemort escape from his clutches again. If Quirrell had stayed alive and assumed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position, Albus would have had a whole year to prep and plan for their future encounter, because he knew it was coming.

Unfortunately, he couldn't predict the circumstances with Voldemort's current vessel destroyed. Albus would have to adapt what he had planned to test Harry Potter's mettle. He didn't know what he was going to do as a replacement, however.

“Headmaster, are yeh gonna do anything about them Dursleys?” Hagrid asked and blew his nose into a handkerchief that was nearly the size of a tablecloth. “They've been doing harm to Harry! He didn't even know when is birthday was and they give him cleaning things as presents!”

Albus sighed. “Hagrid, you know we can't interfere with a muggle family.”

“But, Headmaster... he...” Hagrid dabbed at his eyes. “He's skinny as a rail and...”

“There, there, Hagrid.” Albus said and pat the giant man's arm. “I will see what I can do.”

Hagrid blew his nose again and nodded. “Thank yeh, Dumbledore. Thank yeh.” He said and walked towards the door, opened it, then mumbled. “Great man, Dumbledore.”

Albus let out the sigh he was holding in and sat down behind his desk. He had a month before school started to find someone else to take the now vacant teaching position.