Chapter One
It is a two shot of Hugo Weasley, a highly intelligent boy who learns of his family's heroics in the war in a book.
This is my first try in Fanfic. I am a longtime reader, first time writer. This was something that wouldn't get out of my head, so I decided to publish it. Be gentle, I am not much of a writer. Well I am not JKR, just love her world that she created, and would like to borrow her characters and some events. The only things I own are the sheets on my bed and the hair on my head.
"Mum is everything written in textbooks true?" Hugo questioned his mother. Looking up at her with his big blue eyes. He had read the most fantastically, magical, heroic story. Well to Hugo it seemed like a fairy tale. A tale of men and women who lived through a time in history so horrible, terrorized by a man—no a thing—so terrible that people feared to say his name let alone stand up to him. The people that the story depicts, who were brave enough to fight against the thing, are the same as the people in his family. He looks at his mother. His mother Hermione Granger Weasley, a woman who can preform any charm in any book except household spells. The same woman who last night fought with his father about how he left his work boots on the clean kitchen floor; the same woman who was hit repeatedly by an unforgivable curse and still stayed true to her cause, her friends, and her intellect. Hermione Granger Weasley, the woman who everyday goes to the ministry and fights for the civil rights of others, and the equality of all creatures human or not. Then there is his father, the man who taught him to fly on the old Cleansweep, in the yard of the burrow; the man who steals biscuits before Sunday dinner, and gets reprimanded from his mother about it. The same Ronald Billius Weasley who unabashedly cheers for the Cannons a team that has not won a match in over a century. The man who makes him pancakes, and read him and his sister bed time stories, is the same man who was so brave that he pulled out the sword of Gryffindor and destroyed a Horcrux. The boy who was smart enough to beat an enchanted chess set at the age of twelve when older wizards with more knowledge and intelligence failed. His father the goofball and his best friend, who comes over with his cousins for dinner. Uncle Harry—the chosen one—the same uncle harry who got wacked behind the head last Sunday with an issue of the Profit because he tripped uncle George in front of nana. Harry Potter, the boy who lived the same man who took pride in embarrassing his godson Teddy, by telling him he forgot to pack his favorite teddy bear boarding the train for his sixth year at school. The three of them together, defeated the most powerful dark wizard of an age. He just knows them as Mum, Dad, and Uncle Harry.
Hermione looked up at her son, the spitting image of his father at the young age. Even as the boy sat deep in thought, he displayed the same crinkled at the bridge of his nose that Hermione had seen her husband don while filling out mountains of paperwork in the Auror Department.
"Depends dear." She said picking up the miscellaneous toys in the sitting room.
"Depends on what mum," the eight year old asked his nose back to the page he was reading.
"What is it about? And if it is a work of fiction?" She said with a smile.
"Oh it says that it is about the Golden Trio in the Second War. " He said looking up placing a small index finger in the heavy volume, showing his mother the front cover. The young faces of Ron, Hermione and Harry, were looking fiercely back at her. Her eyes got wide. "Where did you get that"
"Book store," He answered obviously, because to the highly literal Hugo, this would be the correct answer. "So Mum, is that you in the book, and dad, uncle harry. " He asked seriously. "Is it a work of fiction?"
"No son, that was not fiction it is all true, everything written in that book." She said with an eerie calm about her.
"Wicked." The little boy said his eyes light with pride, a smudge of ink on his right cheek. How he could always be disheveled, Hermione would never know.
"I know Da fights dark wizards still, and stuff. But what you did was bloody brilliant. Did you really fly a dragon out of the bank?" his eyes wide and full of curiosity. "Did the goblins try to kill you? They get mad at me when I laugh and talk in the bank."
"Yeah it was fairly brill," she said with a youthful smile on her face. "And that has more to do with your father and I than with you kid"
Then Hugo thought back on his life, and all the times that his mother and father had been stopped in the street by strangers shaking their hands. And they did have chocolate frog cards, and when he thought of it Order of the Merlin first class medals of valor. But at age eight, one doesn't think of those things much, even a young boy as intelligent as Hugo Weasley. You just see your parents-as well- the people who have devoted their lives to making him embarrassed, and did not have a life before your birth, because to an eight year old, the world didn't begin before said person graced the earth with his or her presence.