THE BOX
Harry had kept them all.
They were stored in a tin box on his desk.
The 12, Grimmauld Place had changed a lot since the time the Order of the Phoenix had been using it. There was still a murmur behind the thick curtain in the corridor, but the tapestries had been changed, the rooms cleansed, the furniture completely replaced. The third floor was used as a dormitory, the first floor had been converted into training space and Harry had set up there his second headquarters when he had been appointed Commander of the Aurors.
At the time, Ginny was pregnant with Lily. One day she was resting at her parents' while James was at his cousins', Harry had had no choice but to bring Albus with him.
He had settled the almost two years old little boy on the green carpet in his office, with his dragon plush toy and an enchanted spin top to keep him occupied, and had begun classifying his books and documents in the library.
Downstairs, the Aurors were busy chatting, carrying stuff and sorting out jumble. You could hear Ron's loud voice, the latest recruit's quips, guffawing, hammering and the pshitt-fizz sounds of spells. The whole house smelled of wood chips and paint and life and new starts. The sun streamed through the windows and Harry had trouble believing the place had seen so much pain and anger.
- "Oh."
He had turned round when he had heard Kreacher's voice.
The old elf had stepped in the room with a box full of clutter and stumbled upon discovering the child.
- "This is my son, Kreacher", had said Harry gently, from the ladder on which he was standing with a stack of books. "His name's Albus."
There had been a long silence, during which the grumpy servant had stared at the little boy, rubbing his scraggly chin with a long bony hand.
Then Albus had lifted his green eyes, looked at the creature and smiled under his mop of dark curls.
- "Peek-a-boo!"
The protruding eyes had widened a bit under the bushy eyebrows.
- "The master's son?"
- "Yes", had said Harry.
He had not specified that the toddler was his second son, because he had never felt it necessary to tell the elf about James. Why would have Kreacher been interested in knowing this? He was living peacefully in a world filled with ghosts, worshiping the memory of Regulus Black.
Of course, the 12, Grimmauld Place was soon going to be as busy as a beehive. But Kreacher would surely be content to hide in the attic or the cellar. He would probably appear from time to time to accommodate Harry, but you could not expect him to become sociable. He was far too old – and far too senile - for that.
- "Kitty!" Albus chirped, pointing at the servant.
Harry chuckled.
- "Not really."
Kreacher glared at his master. He put down the box on the floor and hobbled to the child, scraping the tip of one of his jagged ears filled with tufts of white hair.
- "Man-key!"
- "Nope."
Harry was carefully watching the elf.
There was no reason for him to harm the baby, but...
Albus cocked his head to the side, wrinkling up his tiny nose.
- "Api?"
- "No, it's not a bat either. This is Kreacher, Al. Say hello."
The toddler flashed a bright smile to the creature and stretched his arms out.
- "Lo!" he cried and adorable giggles blossomed in the room.
The old elf pinched his crooked nose, closing his eyes. Then he took another step and, very gently, put his slender fingers on the little boy's head.
His almost transparent blue irises half-opened and something that looked like a smile dawned on his parched lips.
- "The young little master", he mumbled.
- "Api", repeated Albus, looking totally convinced. Then he reached out and grabbed one of the floppy ears.
The pinkish gray old creature bent down. His scrawny arms wrapped around the toddler and his gummy cheek touched the baby's pristine forehead.
- "Kreacher's glad", he muttered. "He saw the young little master..."
Harry felt his heart sink.
How many years of solitude? How many regrets? How many memories lost forever? The old elf had seen his masters' births. Had he held in his arms the child named Regulus? Had he rocked him to sleep like he had done, many years later, in a so very cold cave?
Albus snuggled against the elf's hollow chest, without fear, without disgust, without a second thought.
- "Kiss", he informed before sticking a wet smacker on the crooked nose of the old servant.
And his laughter tinkled again like a fairy silver bell.
Harry cleared his throat.
- "Kreacher, I'll be very busy today. Could you keep an eye on him, please?"
The elf grumbled something, but the soft look didn't leave his wizened features. For the rest of the afternoon, he wandered about the house, bringing tea and cookies to the workers, not paying any attention to what they said. He was walking slowly, one eye always watching the little boy toddling behind him – who marveled at everything, his chubby fist clutched on the elf's ragged tunic.
- "Kitty!"
- "Oh, no, my young master. It's a troll's head."
When Harry had noticed it was getting dark and that it was almost time to go home, he had searched them everywhere. The Aurors had not seen the duo for a while and there were so many dangerous places for a baby in the old building.
He had finally found them in the kitchen, behind the stove. The embers were softly crackling in the warm and quiet room. Kreacher was sitting on the pile of rags that were his bed with a book which pages were a bit moldy. The little boy was nestled in his arms. The dragon plush huddled under his chin, the child was fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth, his long dark lashes fluttering on his round cheeks with each peaceful breath.
The old elf was silent, but his skinny fingers brushed the toddler's black curls with awed tenderness.
Harry had crouched in front of the servant.
- "It's time we go home", he had said gently.
The elf's protruding eyes, somewhat hidden under almost white bushy eyebrows, had looked at him.
- "The young little master played a lot", he had croaked.
- "Yes", had replied Harry, holding out his hands slowly. "It's time for him to go to bed. His own bed."
He had wondered if the old creature would give back the child without an actual order.
- "Um", had grumbled the house elf.
And he had very carefully lifted Albus to put him into his father's arms.
Harry had gotten up with his precious cargo, while the sleeping toddler instinctively nuzzled against his shoulder.
- "Thank you, Kreacher."
- "Hum."
He had waited to be in the corridor to apparate, feeling the gaze of the elf on them like if the creature could not take his eyes off the little boy.
He had never brought back his son at Grimmauld Place because it was a place he had decided long ago to keep away from his family. There were too many memories in this house. Ginny did not want to set foot there again, and for him, he rather not to have to explain to James, Lily and Albus to whom it had belonged, nor why some rooms remained stubbornly linked to the days of the war, to the Black family, to a world that was no longer relevant.
Kreacher did not ask when the child would come back, but from time to time, he looked at Harry and moistened his thin lips, as if he were about to say something.
Time had gone by.
Now the green of the carpet in his office had faded and the books were worn out. But his desk was still spotless, polished and waxed, with the lamp on the left and the inkwell on the right, gold-tipped quills waiting with some parchment in the center and a stack of documents to sign in the black bunk.
And then the box.
It was made of tin and had contained macaroons offered by Arthur Weasley to Ginny and him for their first Christmas with the family a few weeks after their wedding. Harry had kept it because it was a gift bought in a Muggle bakery and because the story of its shopping had made them roar with laughter for years.
He had found it again when tidying his study after Lily's birth and brought it to Grimmauld Place, thinking he would use it to keep his Aurors' greeting cards.
He could not remember exactly how or why, but in the end the box was only filled with letters from Albus.
APYBIRTHDADADDY
ILOVYOO
ALBUSSEVERUSPOTTER
Deare Daddy,
Grannie said you where in the hospitall becoz a bad wisard hurted you. I hop you are bettter now. Mummy is very upset. James is mean to me but I dont say anything just like you tolde me. I miss you a looooooooooooooooooot. See you soon.
Al.
Hello Daddy,
We're having an awesomme time at the sea with Uncle Bill! Auntie Fleur says hello and sends Mummy the dried flowers I put in the envellope (I hope they won't be too crushed). We saw the nest of a jobberknoll and tomorow we will go CAMPING on the beach! Teddy put sand in James's bathing suit; he was squirming and squeeling, it was so funny! Lily's learning to swim, she's doing fine.
Lots of love,
Al.
FOR THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD: HIP HIP HIP HOORAY
HAPPY 35st BIRTHDAY!
A massive hug from your son
Albus
(See, I didn't do a single mistake and Mum didn't even help!)
Dear Dad,
I'M IN GRYFFINDOR! The Sorting Hat didn't take long to think about it. He laughed and said "another Potter". Rosie's in Ravenclaw and the boy Uncle Ron doesn't like, Scorpius Malfoy, is also in Gryffindor and we share bedrooms too. But he's not someone bad, he's just a little shy, I reckon. There's also a boy named Terrence Swanson and another who's called Craig Finnigan and who said his father knew you because you two were in school together. He's Irish. I saw the Whomping Willow! In Potions, I didn't get the cure for boils wrong, though I wasn't as good as Terrence who's completely barmy (he has already tried a recipe from our Prefect's Advanced Potion-Making book!) Tomorrow we're having our first flying lesson! I can't wait!
Give a kiss for me to Lily and a ton of hugs to Mum.
Love you,
Al.
(PS: I said hello to Neville.)
Hi Dad,
Thanks for the tip about the flowers. I brought lilies to the gallery and I think Severus liked them. It's too bad he doesn't speak... Rosie told me none of the portraits could, since they were made from pictures of the victims of Hogwarts' Battle. I wish I could ask them some questions, especially to Tonks and Remus. (Is it wrong of me? They just look so brave and so interesting!) Apparently there's another painting of Professor Snape somewhere, one that can actually talk, but I couldn't find out where exactly.
Scorpius sat with us at lunch yesterday. He even smiled when Samuel Flinch-Fletchey's ears began to smoke yellow! It's cool, usually he looks upset or lonely... Wendy said he just needed to be loved, that's all. I find it sad that he had to wait to be in second year to find out we were willing to be friends with him.
Has Lily received the Droobles I sent her?
Lots of love to you and Mum
Al.
(PS: James's busy practicing for Quidditch, but he said to tell you he's still alive.)
Dear Dad,
Spoon is dead. We found him this morning in the canopy above my bed. I think he died while he was sleeping. It probably didn't hurt... I hope it didn't.
Wendy, Terrence Scorpius, Rosie, Hugo, Lily and I are going to bury him near Hagrid's hut. Bert Hammersmith asked Professor Migden if we could. James made fun of us, I wanted to hit him. Spoon was becoming the Gryffindor third years' mascot, you know. He was even allowed to be in class with us in Study of Ancient Runes. Professor Douglas liked him, he always said he had rarely seen such a smart ferret. Maybe he will come with us this afternoon...
I miss you, Daddy.
Albus
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!
Turning 40, wow, now, this is neat (I won't tell you it's time to retire like James, but you should start to worry about white hair. Lily spot one behind your ear. =)
Your birthday gift is downstairs in the kitchen, I hope you'll like it. Mum, Teddy and I spent a whole afternoon in Diagon Alley to find everything we needed and Grandpa almost ruined everything yesterday evening! I was going nuts - but phew, it worked out well in the end.
Sorry for the biting birthday card by the way. Uncle George said there were no nice birthday cards for people over 39 years!
A ton of kisses,
Long live the - next - minister of magic!
Your son, Albus Severus Potter.
Sometimes Harry opened the box and time flew at full speed while he was reading. As a child, Lily had given him many drawings and Ginny treasured the rare postcards and memo sized notes received from James, but Albus was the only one who had written that many letters - like a diary of his son's life, a child's heart given to the paper with innocence, a moment of quiet conversation which would remain forever.
The hours passed by, the sun moved on the dark green carpet, hemming the bookshelves with gold and glittering on the ornaments behind the glass and, suddenly, Harry shivered as he came back to reality, just like when he plunged his head into the Pensieve.
In his painting, Severus only raised his eyebrows silently, but Harry suspected him of going off the frame to laugh secretly. His former teacher remained true to himself - pale, uptight, severe, and disdainful - but the young man was not deceived.
Severus Snape loved Albus' visits to the gallery. He had ears everywhere - in the unexpected person of Dobby who wandered from his own painting in Grimmauld to the one hung in Hogwarts' kitchen and who picked up the latest gossip. Sometimes the two portraits suddenly fell silent when Harry came in the room. Dobby's bright eyes and the hue of color on the Potions Master's hollow cheeks poorly concealed their excitement.
- "What's new?" Harry asked casually while sitting at his desk with a stack of files.
- "Potter, you're barely making your deadlines. Don't you think you should avoid any possibility of distraction? In the old days..."
- "Yeah, yeah, I know. What's up with Albus?"
Dobby's high pitched voice made them both wince with some amusement.
- "Oh, Mr. Potter, there ain't two like him! He has…"
Sometimes, in the glass reflection, Harry saw the door open slowly, and he glimpsed Kreacher's humpbacked figure in the shadows of the corridor.
One morning, very early, he had surprised the servant in his office. The old elf was standing near the window and had left his dust cloth on the sparkling clean wooden desk.
In the sunlight that haloed him, his floppy jagged ears were flushed pink. His eyes were shut and he was cradling the tin box against his cheek.
- "The young little master is happy over there ... He's growing up well. He's growing up strong."
Harry had felt ashamed, even if he had stayed firm on his decision to separate home from the 12, Square Grimmauld. Albus did not remember his visit to the headquarters, and it was a good thing, although...
Did elves have families? Had Kreacher ever been married? Would he have wanted children?
Harry regretted not having paid more attention to what Hermione had been ranting about, when she had been into the S.A.L.E.
He remembered how Kreacher had changed when he had understood they were going to finish what Regulus Black had tried to accomplish.
Albus was different from him.
Following his heart, he saw beyond what people showed.
Harry had stopped at appearances, like everybody else.
Grumpy, lonely, shifty, misunderstood, despised and rejected.
Severus.
Kreacher.
Scorpius.
How painful it was to remember the memory of Professor Snape slumped in the nursery, holding tight in his arms the lifeless body of Lily Evans, tears streaming down his sallow face...
-"After all this time, Severus?"
- "Always."
He was seventeen years old and he was staring, petrified, at Kreacher who was sobbing, his crooked nose dripping, pitiful, limp like a mop on the black and blue tiles of the kitchen.
"Mr. Regulus told Kreacher to go home..."
At Hogwarts, Scorpius Malfoy walked hugging the walls, a bragging grin plastered on his narrow face. He carried the weight of his father's past on his shoulders, the shame of not being admitted to Slytherin and the painful desire to be accepted for what he was - just him.
He lived in overwhelming gloom.
Then Albus had smiled to him and sat with him in the Potions classroom.
Just like that, just that simple.
So he had started to hope.
Just like Severus when Lily had come to him.
He had found his place.
Just like Kreacher when Regulus Black had given him a mission.
He was not asking for much.
He just needed to be loved.
HPHPHP
This one-shot is actually a stand-alone chapter from "Bright as Night",
but it can be read on its own, as a part of my series of one-shots about Harry's family.
It is the first of them all - or the last one. The others are going like this: "the Dream" (Albus is 4), then "Lily asks questions" (Albus is 8)
and "the tin soldier secret" (Albus is 10), if you want to read them chronologically.
"Dark as Snow" (Albus is 6) comes right after "the Dream" and its sequel "Bright as Night" (Albus is 14) concludes the series.
And here is how the chapter ends in the complete version:
Harry opened his eyes and looked at Charlie.
- "No", he said. "We won't wipe a single memory of what they shared."
You did not take away light from those who were born in darkness.
And Albus was going to need, more than ever, the love of those who had only found their place at his side.
TO BE CONTINUED...