Harry Potter and the Baby Vanquishers
Godric Hollow Public Park, late morning 31th October, 1981
The autumn sun shone brightly on the mown grass from between the fluffy clouds. On the horizons, dark clouds promised a scary lightning-storm before evening but for now the weather was mild enough to take your baby for a stroll in the park. And indeed, the grass was filled with babies. Six little ones were bunched together on the wet grass by the benches, a devastating bouquet of cuteness. Only one sleepy mother (it was Hermione's mummy) sat on the nearby bench. A few abandoned handbags and nannybags indicated the other mummies had gone momentarily elsewhere.
"Duh moomie ah awuh. Hime buh gooq Vovomop ahss! Fo fifory!" Harry Potter, one year old prophesied savior of the Wizarding World, squealed.
"Hoo!" Ron Weasley squealed back. Ron also made a big no-no in his hand-me-down cotton diapers. He was all kinds of excited. He looked kind of proud. His baby sister made a face at him from her pink carry-cot. Unfortunately she was still way too young: barely two months old. It just looked cute on her.
"RON!" baby Hermione cried sternly at him from her place on the grass. As the mastermind behind this gathering and the eldest among them (already a two-some!) she felt certain niceties must be followed no matter their bodily age. After all, they were all Self Body-Snatching Time-Traveling Thirty Year Olds. Would Ron Weasley ever grow up? For some reason, despite being the brightest witch of her age, she still asked this very stupid question.
"Gah Revy," Harry interrupted her. "Hee hamiim." He lifted his baby fist and shook it toward the park's entrance where a noseless, red-eyed Suspicious Stranger was peeking at the group of toddlers from behind a bush. Neville toddled to Luna's carry-cot and took position before it. He was going to be a brave Griffindor someday after all and dammit, he wanted to finally prove it. Baby Luna smiled serenely and popped her dirigible plum pacifier into her mouth. She wasn't too enthused about The Plan. Way too straightforward to her sensibilities but oh well.
"Geh you Horcookies ready, eveeywon!" Hermione commanded the troops. One by one, those brave little toddlers did just that: Ron fisted Slytherin's Locket out of the wet grass by its chain. Neville Put Hufflepuff's Cup firmly on his little pate. Ginny meanwhile pushed her cute little butt deeper into Tom Riddle's Diary's open pages. Luna wiggled her little left thigh inside Ravenclaw's Diadem. Hermione herself held the Gaunt Ring tightly in her trembling fist, grinning widely, not caring at all she revealed her nascent buck-teeth for once. Harry just took his place behind them all, his unblemished forehead pushed forward in defiance. To an outside observer none of this was visible. Hermione and Harry cast their strongest Very Underaged Wandless Magic on the cursed objects to make them utterly unnoticeable.
Soon, the tall, suspicious stranger approached. "Step aside!" he commanded this bevy of magical infants who blocked his way to his prize. He could see his year-long target at last behind these other five. Harry Potter! His prophesied nemesis. "Step aside, children. You mustn't interfere with my duel with Harry Potter."
"Vovomop sfiss!" Ron taunted him. Did the little baby just tell him he stinks?! "Yah! Goo 'way, Vomp-vomp," Harry and Hermione egged him on. Voldemort couldn't believe his ears. Out of the mouth of babes! Where did they pick up such treachery? Where?! Ron meanwhile wasn't satisfied with his previous success. He was feeling grand. He was on a roll. Smiling his shit-eating grin and scrunching mightily, he managed to produce yet another stinky no-no. Neville cried piteously into his onesie. He was so envious. Ronsie was so cool. So clever. If only he ate his sprouts and carrots before coming!
Lord Voldemort was seeing red. He whipped his Yew wand out so fast he tore his sleeve. "Avada Kedavra!" He shrieked, spittle flying. Little Ron was ready. With his superb Keeper instincts he threw his Locket into the green beam. As Slytherin's Locket broke and dehorcruxified, Ron keeled over as dramatically as a toddler possibly could. Mustn't let the opposition notice anything was amiss. He even manage to roll into the nearby flowerbed. Mommy will be mad, but oh well. Safety first, right?
Meanwhile Ginny stuck out her tongue at the incensed Voldemort and made a raspberry at him. As expected, Voldemort shrieked his signature "Avada Kedavra!" once more. With her well honed Seeker instincts and long experience with very faulty hand-me-down, public-safety-hazard 'flying brooms', Ginny kicked Tom Riddle's Diary from beneath her into the coming beam and was saved as well. She snorted derisively at the mad Dark Wizard. Softly and cutely of course.
Unfortunately, with all the excitement, Luna dropped her pacifier, her Dirigible Plum pacifier! She started bawling terribly. "Shut up!" Voldemort yelled at her. His ears hurt and he wasn't feeling very kind. Luna ignored him completely and bawled all the harder. "That's it," he growled sibilantly. "I warned you. Avada Kedavra!" Luna didn't notice. She just reached and reached for her beloved pacifier. She grasped. She kicked. She waved her hands about. To no avail. She was strapped down securely in her carry-cot by her loving mother. But as luck would have it, one of her kicks threw Ravenclaw's Diadem into the coming spell.
Defying his long and painful history of fumbling, Neville snatched the pacifier from the ground and thrust it quickly into baby Luna's mouth in one move. The little baby girl gurgled happily and began to suck away lustily on her plum pacifier. But Neville's own Cup horcrux had fallen off to the ground and rolled away into the nettle bed. And Lord Voldemort was looking at him. Neville squealed. This was bad. Forget Griffindor bravery, it was time to duck. He barely managed to stumble on his nose and miss the first negligent "Avada Kedavra!" thrown his way. He nearly wet himself in fright. No, wait. He did wet himself in fright. There was only one thing left to do. Ignoring all the nasty nettles, he crawled with all his might toward his horcrux. Why did he leave his little mitts and baby shoes at home? Why?! So foolish. Somehow, (some might say miraculously) missing the bevy of "Avada Kedavra!" thrown his way, he quickly hid behind the old dead bole, hoping the green light-show would end soon. He didn't even notice when one of the green green curses hit Hufflepuff's Cup and ignominiously slew it.
Voldemort cursed under his breath. He really wanted to get the Longbottom brat. He was his alternate nemesis, and nemeses (which is the plural of nemesis) were serious business. Well, he'll get back to him after he rid himself of his two remaining opponents. He couldn't get very far on his wee, little feet, right?
Hermione was prepared for him. She floated her Ring horcrux an inch before Voldemort's wand tip in a superb show of Very Underaged Wandless Magic. She might not be a great Seeker like Ginny or Harry, she might not be an unbeatable Keeper like Ron, she might not be dumbly lucky like Neville or Luna but she was superb with charms if she did say so herself and Wingardium Leviosa was the first charm this Know It All performed in class. It didn't matter where he pointed his wand, the Ring floated before it and was bound to be hit. It was almost the perfect strategy, except… Voldemort's next "Avada Kedavra!" went right through the ring-hole. Hermione wanted to bawl in despair! Was this the end for little old her? The curse was coming straight for her.
But Hermione Granger was no quitter. She scrunched up her courage and squealed "Asschio!" Quicker than any spell-light, the ring flew back to her and overtook Voldemort's "Avada Kedavra!" from behind, mid-stream. Hermione was relieved to discover that no matter the direction, an "Avada Kedavra!" and a horcrux meeting produced the same result: a fizzled curse and a slain horcrux. Maybe when she grew up again, she could write a treatise about it. It was hard to keel over and play dead. She wanted to crow her findings to the whole wide world so much!
At last it was just Lord Voldemort versus Harry Potter. "We meet at last," Voldemort hissed at the formidable one year old. Harry, took a page from his girlfriend's book and blew a raspberry of his own at him. Voldemort wanted to cry. His great moment. Facing off against his nemesis, was ruined. Ruined! "Avada Kedavra!" he shrieked, falling back on familiar grounds. Harry Potter wasn't daunted. Whipping out his toy broom (He got it for his birthday this summer and could fly as fast as 10 miles an hour at up to 7 feet off the ground on it!), he flew up, up and away, letting Voldemort's green curse fizzle out beneath him. Circling merrily around Voldemort's head, he let the nannybag hanging from the broom's tail fall off at Voldemort's feet. It was show-time!
Out of the bag jumped their Boggart. It immediately assumed Lord Voldemort's worse fear: Old Man Death in his tattered robe, holding his signature giant sickle in one bony hand and looking ready to reap. Lord Voldemort shrieked in terror. "You can't have me," he cried. "I've got insurance," he added, thinking of his five great death-defying horcruxes. The Boggart just grinned his skull-grin. With a wave of his skeletal arm, the notice-me-not spells over all the horcruxes around them fell away. Lord Voldemort was so shocked and terrified, he croaked from a heart attack!
""Ribibuloop!" Several high-pitched cries broke the tableau and poor Mr. Boggart found itself reenacting the once widely feared Lord Voldemort's death. All the babies giggled. Mr. Boggart slunk away in disgust.
"Fiche of cake," little Ron Weasley crowed. "Yum. Cake," he added dreamily after a moment, drool dripping. Everyone was ecstatic, except for Neville who didn't feel he was heroic enough and also really wanted his nappies changed already.
Author's Notes: Where are all the mummies, you ask? They went to bring ice cream. This was in fact the hardest part of the whole operation.