Raising Harry
Chapter Three, Part 2:
On Actually Raising The Child
Contrary to what you may have possibly concluded, I have not avoided the British Wizarding World[0]. As such. I have ventured there, on a few occasions but intentionally they have been brief, strict visits. I did not want to risk becoming a regular, predictable or remembered.
Though initially, growing up here, that was for an entirely different reason than you likely could ever suspect. After all, I did not expect Harry-child coming into my care.
Namita sat. The floor, softwood, was covered with squares of shaggy rugs.
Namita stared at the assembled mess in front of her. Okay. Obviously, she was going to need some tools. Sighing, she tucked her errant fringe- outgrown now- behind her right ear as she got up. Time to get the kit.
Turning left down the short corridor, she took the route through the living room/kitchen combo to the cupboard in the utility room. Theseus gleamed, a bright poppin' candy apple red. If he could, he'd rumble-growl in pleasure, 'useful again...'. But Theseus was inanimate. So he couldn't. Plenty of objects in Namita's house, kept at least as long as Theseus, were in the same state: almost active, as so many objects oft left in the sphere of influence for so long of Wixen did, in fact, develop such quirks: purring, spinning, only working if something else was/not used also, or for only one person specifically - who happenstance would have it, had the focused emotions upon them, and whom supplied the magic ambiently soaking into the fibers of it's creation. The wrought iron crows and elephant and dare it be acknowledged...Mandir statues, could all attest to this. A newborn was coming. And there would be new family arriving, too. The Mistress was preparing even now, for them.
The house, still silent and asleep would grow from the ambient magics of both, and so owe equal allegiance to both - but that was another story. Namita's previous apartment could only wish it had such sentience as that.
But the garden... that is where summers, laughter-full and sun speckled, moonlight dowsed, flower-abundant, wildlife-visited, would truly become magical, as was only right.
Namita felt sad. This was okay, because the little one, washed up, fed and cuddled a little, was sleeping under his own watchful starry sky in their –it was decided, no way was she leaving him alone in their new home- shared room. So she could be sad for a bit.
There was bruising. He was so small. Even for his age. And so, so delicate, - despite herself she felt some of the residual joy peak through her tiredness and dark thoughts, like the light he was.
Yes, he was delicate, but so very sweet; it felt far too early for it, but she'd gained, been gifted a small smile this day – when they spent some time in the garden amongst the flowers, and he was picking plants he'd like maybe. [1]
Namita was still in bed, sitting facing him on his own.
A breeze whispered into the room. It passed around her, almost fluidly, she shivered. It was fresh but also..warm. Sweet of scent, a flower of some sort fluttered in.
Little one's hair ruffled.
There was a familiar warmth, come to give him a hug, in his dream, suddenly. But, Harry realised something, in the glowing greens and pinks, blues, whites, reds, and the dark browns. That like the light dappling through the tree he sat under with Namita, this warmth…it had always been there for him. Most noticeably when he was alone and asleep. He did not remember it awake, but maybe this time he would?
He smiled so hard his face hurt. Turning to Namita he blushed at the happiness there, smiling at him. She was laughing, getting up. She wore a dress unlike any he'd seen before ever- and no shoes, she asked him to come to her, to dance. Dance?
And he was small but it was so fun and they wiggled, and then she got out these wooden big circles and they wiggled harder to keep them at their tummy level. It was good. Then there was juice and biscuits and then back to the plants. There were so many! It was amazing. Aunt Petunia and others on the street (Privet Drive; the thought cuts off.) have flowers, and he had thought they were a lot but they weren't, they really weren't! And there was a special bit of hanging green vines, like 'The Secret Garden' that they started that night, with Namita– but he's not allowed to go there quite yet. Soon, when he's done here first. Because it's a secret special place for them only and it's magic.
He loved the plants. He hoped they love him too...There were all sorts for all over different parts of the land, from small almost bushes – moss and liken- on rocks and walls, little ferns with curly fluffy bits that had been around since the Dinosaurs or maybe earlier, delicate little flowers, yellow and white – buttercups and daisies, and clover and mint, and shoots to show there are plants under the ground growing too! Like potatoe, or ginger- but Namita said that was a root. To really tall plants – trees [2].
There was something about one of them, a grey-brown leaning, deep-lined plant, that had branches and leaves half climbers on the fence, around and along the green vines, with its purple hanging flowers…it shimmered a bit. It felt..more…awake? But he only noticed after watching a while. Namita let him, though she laughed – a good laugh, not at him but because of him, he found a secret in the garden already, wasn't he clever- and said it's part of the 'Secret Garden' bit. And, that there were more bigger and stranger plants hidden, just for us, that we couldn't see without permission yet. She was hoping we could receive it -permission- together from the old tree (Purana ped).
In one of our quiet moments, she drew something into the dirt, it's still there.
रक्षक
Rakshak
संरक्षक
Sanrakshak
Namita in the real world, draws the symbol, under a strange compulsion - no, an instinct or urge to do so, on his brow, next to the lightning [3] bolt. Namita jolts in surprise – Harry is smiling.
{Time Skip – a preview:}
Ms. N. K. Evans, preferably Namita, or possibly Nami, lived on number 21, Occam Road, Surrey with her son Harry Potter, and they were proud to say that they were a little weird and strange, thank you very much. In that, they liked to do and try things, kept irregular schedules and very of a very…mixed culture. Particularly at first, to newcomers that is, the recognition of this newness was iterated, that: yes, Ms. Evans was aware that her son's surname was different, that was very much on purpose -indeed, yes!
After only a short while – not that "the Evans'"- as they were colloquially or jointly termed, were aware (or cared)- any twittering would usually sputter out, ending in a measly, insubstantial manner (if beginning properly at all).
They were the sort of people who liked to do things, new things - a lot of activities, and could be seen helping out in the community locally and London as a whole from time to time (especially the Ms; for 'causes and such'), even though they…it seemed, somehow… liked to keep to themselves a little, still.
Last year Ms N. K. Evans partook in a cycle route for charity, and Harry had helped take part in a couple charity sponsored runs with his school and over the summer. They liked to help and pursue what they liked, and this was very apparent in their behaviour. Likewise, clearly apparent, Namita adored her son. So, did Harry - and the dog.
The dog loved Harry a lot. Must have imprinted, or so the neighbours said.
The 'poor boy', some said.
'That dog is huge – and a menace!' So unlike them, they said. 'All big and dark and menacing, like.'
'Definitely a mix of some sort – Alsatian and Irish wolfhound?'
'Don't be ridiculous; clearly, it's Alsatian and dire wolf!'
At the twin sceptical and incredulous looks, this was hastily amended, '- w-well, it's just that the dog is so big; long, but not bulky, like a wolf, right?'
The Evans', still the newest on the street some years later, had borne a good life and were good proper people and a good proper family, was the consensus, generally speaking.
A good life for themselves, they had made certainly but they also kept one secret, that was part of their lives, their very beings and lifestyles!
…And soon, it would be tested to new heights to keep(and not because of magic like you possibly thought).
Suggested Playlist:
[0] Braveheart - James Horner and Hans Zimmer
[1] Titanic - Hymn to the sea
[2] Epic Orchestral Cover - Lion King Parademics
[3] Gladiator - Now We Are Free
