Title: "The Life and Times of Filius Flitwick," a work in progress
Author: jon jones
Rating: G, but that won't last for long. Rating will be changed depending upon future chapters.
Disclaimer: Filius Flitwick and most other characters and settings were created by J. K. Rowling. i claim neither authorship nor ownership of Harry Potter and his respective universe. i do, however, claim ownership of all original materials.
Warnings: You should be aware that slash (which is to say, homosexual relationships and/or intimate encounters) WILL be a part of this story at some point. Although there is none as of yet, you are advised to not get involved with this story now if you think that some slash might piss you off later. This story contains no spoilers--yet.
Author's Notes: This story was triggered by my extreme disappointment at the lack of fan fiction devoted to Professor Flitwick, and by my extreme lack of anything better to do with my time. i hope you enjoy it, invite you to issue feedback, and thank you for investing the time to read it.
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Prologue
Many years ago, a goblin and a witch fell madly in love. They could not marry, of course, goblins being classified as Beasts by the Ministry of Magic--so they fled. They lived together for a very long time, deeply entranced by one another, and perfectly content. Theirs being a normal relationship (or as normal as could be expected), eventually a child was born of them. A boy who, at first glance, one would assume was a full-blooded goblin. He had the long, pointed ears and the long, pointed nose and the long, pointed fingers of a goblin. He had the shrewd eyes and curling mouth of a goblin. And he was, at birth, roughly the size of a largish potato.
Eventually, the boy's father grew weary of the woman, and, being a goblin, felt no particular attachment to his son. The goblin disappeared one night, leaving behind only a small sack of Sickles to remember him by. However much the boy looked like a goblin, as he grew, his mother learned that he had none of the cunning, none of the calculating nature of his father. He had, true enough, a startling intellect true to his heritage, but other than that, he was purely human at heart. The boy lived his life with his mother in a tiny cottage in the middle of a forest. They had no contact with the outside world. All the boy knew of the world beyond his forest was taught him by his mother and her enormous collection of books.
He learned to read at age two. He was practicing Charms and Transfiguration by the time he was four. He learned to cook, to sew, to dance. He maintained a small garden, his turnips growing enormous thanks to his Engorgement Charms; his Orchids blossoming delicately thanks to his skillful hand and care. Once, while working in his garden, a wild boar charged at him. He reached for his wand and transfigured the beast into a piano before the animal knew what'd hit him. The piano was brought inside, and he taught himself to play it. He would compose intricate fugues in an hour's time and perform them for his delighted, aging mother. On the boy's eleventh birthday, something unusual happened. He received a letter. He'd never received a letter. He had, in fact, never seen any handwriting apart from his mother's and his own. More surprising still were the contents of the letter. They expected him, it seemed, to leave his mother behind. They expected him to leave his forest, his home, and enroll at a school. Hogwarts, they called it. He'd read about the school in the past, but he had never dreamed of going, of leaving his mother. He was very confused. His mother got a strange look in her eye and told him that it was time for him to go be his own man. She wept. He did, too. He had never known anything but his home, his forest, his mother. He was frightened.
On the day that the boy boarded the shining crimson train and departed to school, his mother died of heartbreak. He never saw the little cottage nestled in the woods again.
Author: jon jones
Rating: G, but that won't last for long. Rating will be changed depending upon future chapters.
Disclaimer: Filius Flitwick and most other characters and settings were created by J. K. Rowling. i claim neither authorship nor ownership of Harry Potter and his respective universe. i do, however, claim ownership of all original materials.
Warnings: You should be aware that slash (which is to say, homosexual relationships and/or intimate encounters) WILL be a part of this story at some point. Although there is none as of yet, you are advised to not get involved with this story now if you think that some slash might piss you off later. This story contains no spoilers--yet.
Author's Notes: This story was triggered by my extreme disappointment at the lack of fan fiction devoted to Professor Flitwick, and by my extreme lack of anything better to do with my time. i hope you enjoy it, invite you to issue feedback, and thank you for investing the time to read it.
---------------------
Prologue
Many years ago, a goblin and a witch fell madly in love. They could not marry, of course, goblins being classified as Beasts by the Ministry of Magic--so they fled. They lived together for a very long time, deeply entranced by one another, and perfectly content. Theirs being a normal relationship (or as normal as could be expected), eventually a child was born of them. A boy who, at first glance, one would assume was a full-blooded goblin. He had the long, pointed ears and the long, pointed nose and the long, pointed fingers of a goblin. He had the shrewd eyes and curling mouth of a goblin. And he was, at birth, roughly the size of a largish potato.
Eventually, the boy's father grew weary of the woman, and, being a goblin, felt no particular attachment to his son. The goblin disappeared one night, leaving behind only a small sack of Sickles to remember him by. However much the boy looked like a goblin, as he grew, his mother learned that he had none of the cunning, none of the calculating nature of his father. He had, true enough, a startling intellect true to his heritage, but other than that, he was purely human at heart. The boy lived his life with his mother in a tiny cottage in the middle of a forest. They had no contact with the outside world. All the boy knew of the world beyond his forest was taught him by his mother and her enormous collection of books.
He learned to read at age two. He was practicing Charms and Transfiguration by the time he was four. He learned to cook, to sew, to dance. He maintained a small garden, his turnips growing enormous thanks to his Engorgement Charms; his Orchids blossoming delicately thanks to his skillful hand and care. Once, while working in his garden, a wild boar charged at him. He reached for his wand and transfigured the beast into a piano before the animal knew what'd hit him. The piano was brought inside, and he taught himself to play it. He would compose intricate fugues in an hour's time and perform them for his delighted, aging mother. On the boy's eleventh birthday, something unusual happened. He received a letter. He'd never received a letter. He had, in fact, never seen any handwriting apart from his mother's and his own. More surprising still were the contents of the letter. They expected him, it seemed, to leave his mother behind. They expected him to leave his forest, his home, and enroll at a school. Hogwarts, they called it. He'd read about the school in the past, but he had never dreamed of going, of leaving his mother. He was very confused. His mother got a strange look in her eye and told him that it was time for him to go be his own man. She wept. He did, too. He had never known anything but his home, his forest, his mother. He was frightened.
On the day that the boy boarded the shining crimson train and departed to school, his mother died of heartbreak. He never saw the little cottage nestled in the woods again.