Being Harry
one
Are you comfortable, Harry? Are you sitting down? If not then you'd better get a move on because I take it you won't move again until you've read this a few hundred times. At least, I should think so. I'm not so sure about you. You can't quite tell by watching a one-year-old baby, can you? No matter how much you and I happen to look alike.
Perhaps you're are sitting back in bed, late at night, reading this by lamp-light and virtually ignoring the calls from Lily or Sirius, maybe, or is it Remus?… for you to get to sleep.
Or are you at Hogwarts? Hiding this behind a text book while your friends flash you confused and questioning gazes as to why in the world you are reading your potions book so intently. I suggest you calm them or they, in their deep concern for your well being, might smash your head in.
At the moment- during the writing of this letter- you are sitting at my side on the sea-grass flooring, fiddling with a set of wooden blocks. Mum keeps giving me shifty looks and warns me repeatedly to keep an eye on you. She worries that you might get a splinter or decapitate yourself, at least.
I tell her not to worry herself. If you do behead yourself with the wooden block, I'll just pop your head back on. No problem. Now she's hitting me. I ask her what sort of example she thinks she's setting for you. You are now chucking blocks in every direction manageable, completely indifferent to the fact that your father is getting beaten to a pulp. Lily is laughing.
How are you, Harry? What year is it? Who is the Mister of Magic? How many O.W.Ls did you get? I don't even know how old you are now that you are reading this. Five? Fourteen? Twenty three? Do I address this to a little child, adolescent or man? None of whom I was given consent to watch grow up or give fatherly lectures to.
Being Harry- and my son- you will most likely have had carried on the Marauder's legacy and reeked havoc on Hogwarts like I once did with Sirius, Remus and Peter. My father used to have to send me howlers regularly to keep me in line whenever I committed some childish- and for this reason quite innocent- act of disobedience. Never did work. I can imagine having to protect you- my little kid who can do no wrong- from the unfeasible- that means impossible, Harry- blames of Professor McGonagall. I can imagine myself saying to her;
"Who, Harry? You mean my Harry? Harry James Potter- that Harry? Ne-ver!"
Of course, in reality, if I was to say all that, I would probably be taken as completely mental and not to be trusted- this would be no improvement, however, since I have already acquired that identity at Hogwarts. And while I have taken some time off from all this dreaming, I might as well say that this little imaginary crusade of Hogwarts of yours that I have perceived is far from happening.
Lily has given up trying to put you to bed for your afternoon nap. Not that you're giving her any trouble. It's me who doesn't let her take you up to bed, Harry. Your company helps me forget my worries for just that fraction of the day and Lily most likely is aware of that. I've told her that once you fall asleep I'll carry you up. I'm positive she doesn't believe me which is rather wise of her. She didn't argue with me. I think if she did I would have given in. Ever since I married Mum I've found myself obeying her every whim. Sirius, Remus and Peter have taken advantage of my lack of obdurateness- that happens to be a civilized word for pig-headedness, Harry- and have had a good extra laugh. Most of the time, it's you who gets away with most of your desires. Once you can talk properly I will ask you how you manage to manipulate Lilly so well. You will have to teach me. Or at least I will ask you if I get the chance to. I think it has something to do with being so incredibly cute but if you are, so am I because we look so much alike… I just don't understand it.
Sirius just barged into the house with Peter and to some extent, an apologetic -looking Remus. Of course it's quite normal. Lily's hollering a hello from upstairs but her voice is drowned by Sirius. He roars loudly and sits down hard beside you. I tell him the neighbors will complain about mysterious earthquakes but he seems to be unfazed at the moment.
You however are delighted since you already know- even before you can talk- that if Sirius is present it will eventually lead to you being stuffed with candy and as long as this candy has nothing to do with nasty tasting beans, you are perfectly okay with it. And so is Mum. She wasn't too happy when she discovered Sirius dumping what he assumed were snot flavored beans into your mouth despite Remus' cautionary remarks and blows to the head.
You smile as Sirius scoops you up and throws you high in the air. I tell him to watch it, you might bang into the ceiling and I have this little feeling Lily won't be too happy about that either. Sirius laughs and tells me if I keep it up poor little Harry wouldn't get to do anything fun. I know that this is impossible. Besides, Remus says, banging into the ceiling isn't exactly what he would call fun. I am forced to agree with him.
Peter is sitting on one of the sofas, quite far from all the action- which is present wherever Harry Potter is. It seems to follow you like a magnet. Peter, however, has never been too comfortable around you. Perhaps this is because you tend to cry whenever he comes within a ten foot radius of you. I tell him to come closer. He shakes his head. Claims he's fine as long as he has the freedom to access the refrigerator. I decide to let him be.
Sirius has just realized that all my attention is not on him, Harry. He's nagging me to have a look at what I'm writing. Of course he attempts to snatch it as soon as his eyes land on the parchment but I know him too well and I keep it out of his reach. He has just attempted to wrestle it from me. Seeing as he is larger than me, I cannot keep doing this forever and so I have to make off with my beloved letter. That and I have to save you from the beans that Sirius Black has just conjured. More later, kiddo.
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