A/N Hello :) Here's a short chapter about Seamus. Enjoy :)

As a side note, I have a oneshot 6-character study centred around the plot for this called Often, Sometimes, Someday. Do read, though it does contain mild spoilers for Neville and Dean's major plotlines. I will attempt to update more often but right now my other fic a Conflict of Interest takes precedence. As another note, this story fits into the universe of all of my other Potter fics except Happy Birthday, Harry.

Disclaimer: Don't own or make money from.

1983: Seamus, aged 3

"Mam, Mam, Mam, Mam," a tiny boy babbled as he hobbled around the first floor of the little house. First light was just creeping over the horizon but this did not deter three-year-old Seamus Finnigan. It was Christmas Day and the boy waddled excitedly into his parents' room.

His mother greeted him with a sleepy, "Merry Christmas, baby," so the boy, whose mind had only one track, hurried around to his father and commenced tugging at his arm.

"Not now, Seamus," his father muttered grumpily.

Yet still the boy was adamant. It was Christmas morning and therefore time for presents.

"Christmas!" he shouted, stomping loudly. "Presents!"

Unbeknownst to the less-than-awake company, several dressing table items began to quiver, a sure sign of what was to come.

It was several hours before little Seamus got his wish. This time was packed with silly, mundane things like getting dressed and other boring things like calling his grandmother, who deigned to spend twenty minutes talking to his father, and going to church.

Thus, perhaps understandably, the three-year-old was extremely close to a full-out tantrum by the time his presents reached him.

"Presents, presents, presents," he muttered happily as his mother came into sight bearing them.

"Merry Christmas, Seamus."

Unable to wait a second longer, Seamus stretched out a hand eagerly. In a second, a toy car burst out of the wrapping and into his hand.

His father stared, unable to believe it whilst his mother froze in the doorway.

However, little Seamus didn't notice their reactions and started to play with the newly discovered treasure.

"Did you see that?" Cillian Finnigan demanded of his wife. "That car just... flew."

"Yes," she sighed. "Please stay calm. I can explain everything."

Erin sat her husband on the sofa, away from the contented toddler.

"Promise me you'll keep an open mind," she begged nervously.

Cillian nodded. "Of course. You're worrying me, Erin. What's wrong with our son?"

"He's perfectly heathy," she hastened to say. "It's just... Seamus is a wizard."

The witch's admission was followed by a silence from the Muggle which ended with an abrupt cackle.

"A wizard? What are you talking about? Where are you getting this from? Wizards don't exist, Erin!" Cillian exclaimed, starting to get irritated.

"Yes, they do. And I would know because I'm a witch," his wife announced quietly.

Yet Seamus's father was determined to ignore this nonsense.

"Why are you saying these awful things?" he challenged. "My son does not use black magic. He is three years old. As for you, you're a Christian woman, a good woman, not a witch!"

"I'm both," Erin sighed, still keeping her composure. "This is a lot to take in. I'm going to show you."

Taking a deep breath, Mrs Finnigan drew her wand and pointed it at their presently cold wood fire.

'incendio,' she muttered and flames burst, licked and cracked across the logs.

To say Mr Finnigan flipped out would be an understatement.

"Enchantress! Evil hag! Witch!" he hissed at her. "Stay away from my family!"

He flew towards her, gesturing angrily at the door so she grabbed his wrist.

"Listen to me, Cillian, this is my family too. Not all witches are evil, okay? In fact most of them are quite ordinary people..."

"No!" he yelled. "Stop tricking me! What dark magic have you been teaching my son?"

Exasperated, Erin raised her voice. "I haven't taught our son anything! Magic is hereditary and Seamus is a wizard!"

Throughout the argument, the boy in question had been quite obliviously shedding the wrapping paper from his presents. Abruptly, shocking both his parents, the trail of paper in front of Seamus burst into flames.

"Magic," he babbled happily.

Next chapter: In September 1985, Harry Potter tries to make friends in a world outside of the Dursley house.