A/N: Hello, wonderful readers! I know that the best time of the year is over, but I just had to post this surreal brainwave of mine.
(Yes, I just couldn't resist the Voldie bashing. Gratifying, isn't it?)
Oh yeah, and the last time I checked, I still don't own Harry Potter. I really look forward to that day (which will probably never arrive).
Anyway, enjoy! Reviews and constructive criticism are forever welcome. :D
The Christmas Dream
Harry Potter knew from the day Hagrid told him he was famous that he, apparently, was no ordinary wizard. He'd found himself in various kinds of weird, horrible situations- staring at Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrel's head, talking to Tom Riddle's memory (yes, memory) before slaying a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets (which was sort of in the sewers), using a Time Turner to save his godfather from being convicted of a crime he didn't commit, being transported by the Triwizard Cup, an unknown portkey, to a graveyard before fleeing from Voldemort unscathed, dueling Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries (breaking a whole shelf of Time Turners in the process), finding a horcrux in a cave that was hidden under a potion designed to make you hysterical and in great need of water and having to sacrifice his life before rising from the dead.
The situation he was currently in was no less weird or horrible, though it did not involve another near-death experience. In fact, it was Christmas eve, and Harry Potter was now lying in a blanket of snow in nothing but his favourite emerald green boxers with golden snitches on them.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, getting up and brushing the snow off his half-naked body. "I could've sworn I was lying in bed next to Ginny a minute ago."
He looked around and found himself on the street just outside his house, Potter Manor. The mansion, however, looked different, slightly older and more run down. Moreover, the lights were on.
I wonder what Ginny's doing up this late, he thought walking up to the front porch. I reckon she won't stop laughing when she sees me like this.
Shivering, Harry pushed the door open and quickly made his way inside the house. He was too cold to notice that the door had been slightly ajar, and that the furniture wasn't arranged the same way. He only noticed that fact when he stubbed his toe on a table leg.
"Bloody hell!" he swore out loud, clutching his toe.
"Who's there?" a wary voice echoed from the upstairs.
"Shit," Harry swore to himself. "I've got a bloody intruder in my house, and Gin's asleep. Brilliant. Just brilliant."
"Got a foul mouth now, haven't you?" the voice remarked as the sound of muffled footsteps coming down the stairs grew louder. "And do bear in mind that you're the intruder in my house."
"Who are you?" Harry demanded. "Show yourself!"
The man emerged from around the corner. He was tall with alert hazel eyes and dark hair that stuck up in the back just like Harry's.
"Dad?" Harry said, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
"Harry!" the man whooped and cheered. "Oh, thank Merlin! It worked!"
Harry stared at his dad blankly. "Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, bemused. "What worked?"
"You're here, son," James told him with a mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes. "Because I brought you here. With a little help from the Grim Reaper, of course.
"You WHAT?" Harry yelled. His own father had brought him to his death!
"Sheesh, Harry, calm down," James grumbled. "Trust you to get touchy just like your mother."
"How the hell can I 'calm down' when you just sentenced me to death!"
"Oh, so that's what this is about," James laughed. "Thank heavens you can't use magic here-"
"I can't WHAT?" Harry bellowed.
"-I reckon I would've been hexed into oblivion if you were able to," James mused, ignoring his burst of outrage. "Well, not to worry, for tomorrow you'll wake up in bed and everything will be back to normal."
"Wait, let me get this straight. So this is all just happening in my head?"
"Of course it's happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it's not real?"
Harry groaned. "Not that line again!"
"Why not? I liked that line," James grinned. "One of old Dumbles' best. But yeah, I swear on my dead body that everything will turn out alright."
"You shouldn't say that."
"And you shouldn't be walking on the street in your boxers." James retorted, wagging his finger at his son playfully. "It's indecent exposure, you know. Not to mention the fact that every girl, woman and homosexual within a mile or so of you would be so overwhelmed by the amazing Potter genes that got you those abs they'd faint on the spot."
Harry looked down at his boxers and blushed.
"Don't get me wrong," James smirked. "That's a fine pair you've got there. Brings out the colour of your eyes. But I still prefer my yellow ones with quaffles."
Harry's blush deepened as James guffawed at his son's mortification.
"James?" another voice called from upstairs. "Is everything alright? I heard yelling."
"Lils!" James hollered, clearly unable to contain his excitement. "Get down here, quick!"
"Are you sure everything's alright-" Lily stopped short when she caught sight of her son standing in the living room.
"Uh, hi, mum."
Lily stared at her son, her face pale.
"What?" she cried when she finally found her voice again. "No, how? It's impossible!"
"Lils, you're rendering yourself incoherent."
Lily ignored him, never taking her eyes off of her son. "Are you... Are you dead?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied. "But if I am, I'm going to spend the rest of my afterlife strangling dad."
"You would never do that," James said confidently. "You wouldn't have to, anyway. It's a Christmas gift!"
Lily was flabbergasted. "You… you did this for me?"
"Well, not the boxers part, that was Harry's idea," James snickered as Harry blushed once more. "But yeah, I brought him over for a visit."
"Oh, James!" Lily cried, overjoyed. She flung her arms around him and began to kiss him rather passionately.
"Ew! Yuck!" Harry gagged, covering his eyes. "Merlin, get a room!"
Lily pulled away and pouted. "Why can't we kiss? It's a perfectly normal thing that couples do. You seem to be okay with it whenever you kiss Ginevra Weasley- I mean, Potter."
Harry stared at his parents blankly. "You know about Ginny?"
"Maybe we should just rip off our clothes and shag right now so he knows how we feel whenever we have to watch them do it," James stage-whispered to Lily.
"I think he'd be traumatised for life," Lily replied, laughing. "But yeah, we know all about you. And her. We dead can watch the living's every move, y'know. We have a special telly with customized channels."
"Yeah! We can record each moment too!" James added, grinning. "This stack of DVDs here are all recordings of your most famous battles, your wedding and the birth of our grandchildren."
"Really?" Harry asked, awestruck. He had no idea his parents had kept such a close eye on all his affairs!
"Really," Lily confirmed. "You were our baby, and we're really sorry that we couldn't be there for you all these years."
"Yeah," James muttered darkly. "Thanks to Voldemort."
Suddenly, as if on cue, the door burst open and Voldemort stumbled through the doorway.
"Speak of the devil," Harry groaned.
"Now, now, dear," Lily chided. "We mustn't insult the devil."
"Well, well, well," Voldemort sneered, straightening his cloak. "If it isn't the Potters."
"Huh," Harry snorted. "More like if it isn't the Dark Wanker."
Voldemort's nostrils flared at the insult. "How dare you-"
"Don't you talk to my son like that!" James yelled, furious.
"Insolent brat, don't you know better than to infuriate me? Bow down before me, and I might spare your lives."
"Oh, puh-lease," Lily rolled her eyes. "Like we aren't already dead."
"Don't talk to me, mudblood!"
Harry clenched his fist and was about to yell a retort when James put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "This isn't your fight," he told his son.
Meanwhile, Lily's lips pursed into a thin line that could rival McGonagall's and her green eyes blazed with a bright new ferocity, so strong that even Voldemort was slightly intimidated. She strode over, looked him in the eye and calmly said, "I dare you to call me that one more time."
"Filthy mudblood," Voldemort spat.
"Oh ho ho!" James cried in delight. "You're going to regret that, wanker!"
Indeed, he did. For Lily had pulled back her arm and punched him so hard that she almost broke his neck. As he fell to the ground clutching his face in agony, she began to kick him while calling him some rather... colourful names.
"You stupid-" Kick. "- evil-" Stomp. "- screwed-up-" Kick. "- worthless-" Kick. "- spastic-" Stomp. "- retarded-" Stomp. "- wanking-" Kick. "- bloody-" Kick. "- bastard-" Kick. "- son-" Kick. "- of-" Kick. "- a-" Stomp. "- bitch!" Kick. "Don't you ever dare to come into my house again!" she yelled, panting.
Voldemort merely moaned in defeat from the ground.
"I did tell you that your mum's got a nasty right-hook, didn't I?" James told his now speechless son gleefully. "She's something, isn't she?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, dazed. She reminded him of Ginny, fierce and fearless.
"Oh, boys, you flatter me," Lily smirked, satisfied with herself. "Now, let's get this pitiful excuse of a Dark Wizard out of the house, shall we? He doesn't quite go that well with the carpet."
Harry nodded and began to drag the writhing body of Voldemort out into the snow-covered street. But as he strode back to the house, he felt something collide with his forehead rather painfully.
"What the hell," he swore, closing his eyes, and rubbing his now sore forehead.
When he opened them again, he found himself face to face with his son, James Sirius.
"James!" his wife scolded as she picked up the giggling boy with a thick hardback book clutched (The Fall Of the Dark Lord by Hermione Granger Weasley) in his hand. "What did I tell you about hitting?"
"But it's Christmas, and daddy wasn't waking up."
Ginny sighed and sat the four-year-old down on the bed. "Still, it's not a nice way to wake him up. Now be a good boy and go apologise."
The boy crawled over to his father and snuggled into his side. "Sorry, daddy," he apologised. "Me no do it again."
"I certainly hope not," Harry replied, ruffling his son's hair. "Because that really did hurt."
To his surprise, his son crawled over his shoulder and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. "There!" he smiled happily. "Me make it all better like mummy does!"
"You did," Harry chuckled.
"Now, now," Ginny said, smiling. "Let daddy get dressed in peace. Go wake Al and Lily up now, will you? But no hitting!" she hastily added before the young prankster could get any funny ideas.
"Okay!" James exclaimed happily before running off.
"So, honey," Ginny smiled at her husband. "How was your night?"
"Well, I had this weird dream-"
"Weird dream?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What kind of dream?"
"It's the weirdest one I've had so far. I met my parents."
"You did?"
"Mm-hm. My mum kind of gave old Voldie a bashing."
"Really?" Ginny laughed. "I like your mum."
"You've never even met her."
"But she does seem like an amazing woman."
"Yes, she does. Just like you are."
Ginny smiled and kissed him gently just as a loud crash resounded throughout Potter Manor.
"I'd better see what they're up to now," Ginny sighed. "Before they destroy house."
Harry smiled to himself. He couldn't care less if the house was destroyed, or if he'd have to hear Ginny screaming at the kids for the next one hour or so. Because no matter what, he had great parents, a beautiful wife and brilliant kids. Life seriously couldn't get any better than this.
"This is the best Christmas ever," Harry smiled to himself as he got up to get dressed for breakfast.