I own nothing. Except a copy of Jingle Spells 2. Harry Potter belongs to JKR, WB, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Raincoast etc.
Guide: Narrative
"Dialogue"
'written'
Harry's thoughts
'Ginny's thoughts'
S Parceltongue s
W wolf's thoughts W
……….
Chapter 25 The Toadstool Tales
Harry found himself in a bathroom shaving. But something seemed wrong. There was this niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he had forgotten something or that something was out of place. Everything seemed perfectly normal as he wiped the foam off his neck. Before he had time to ponder that feeling, an alarm went off. He immediately took off with a sense of panic, out of the bathroom and down a hall that he had never seen before. It was as if he was moving on autopilot. He had no control over his actions or his feelings and no idea where he was going or why. He flew down a set of stairs, vaguely noticing there were pictures lining the wall but he couldn't focus at the speed he was moving.
His surroundings were strange, but familiar at the same time. He ran through a cheerful kitchen and out the backdoor into a garden that had a swing set. It was tidy, yet homey at the same time. There were trees surrounding the yard, though he could see that there were no other houses for miles around, so this must be a farm. The sun was just above the horizon and it was summer, so it must be very early in the morning. He kept moving uncontrollably. He was heading towards a large red barn. He gaspingly yelled, "James Tyler Potter!" Harry was relieved to see a young child, of about five, come out from behind the barn but not within ten feet of it. The boy was dark haired and dressed in jeans and an orange t-shirt. As he reached the child he scooped him into his arms and held him close.
"I told you to stay away from the barn. It's not safe for you." The boy looked at his father with wide clear green eyes. Harry could tell that his own fear was scaring his son. "Why are you out here anyway? You are supposed to be in your room."
"I's sorry, daddy," the boy lisped from between missing front teeth. "I was widing my twike and I heawd somesing."
"You scared me so much. You aren't supposed to come outside without an adult. You know better, so you are going to spend the rest of today in your room." Harry still held the boy close as he carried him across the yard and back to the unknown home.
….
Harry sat bolt upright in bed. The dream had been so real. He could still feel his son's much heavier weight in his arms, the sun on his face and dew through his socks. But he was really in the Gryffindor's sixth years boys dormitory. It was pitch black and the only sounds were Ron's snores. There was no sun, no barn and his son was sleeping peacefully in the nursery in the trunk.
He leapt out of bed and threw on his dressing gown before climbing into the trunk to reassure himself of this son's age. Sure enough, a 5 month old was sleeping peacefully in a crib and there was no 5 year old to be seen. Harry straightened the soft blue baby blanket over the infant before stroking his cheek. James turned his head towards the finger touching him and smiled as if he could feel the affection that his father conveyed in the motion.
Once Harry's back was sore from the awkwardness of bending over a crib for an extended period of time, he placed a cushioning charm on the rocking chair and settling in the sleep where he could hear soft baby grunts when he son dreamed of bottles of milk and toys that hovered just out of reach.
…..
Morning was typical, a teenaged father was woken too early by a baby that was very much a morning person. Once a nappy was changed, a new outfit donned, and a bottle warmed, the pair sat in a rocking chair with eyes fixed on each other. Though Harry's gaze was drawn by his son's, his mind was far away, on a farm in the summer with a five year old child.
Dream sight. Weak, so I can't control it. But that makes it the future…
No it makes it a possible future. The future isn't written in stone. Written in sand is more like it.
That is definitely a future I want. A nice home, with a child that looked happy and healthy.
And at least some of my friends where, will be, alive. Who but Ron would choose a Chudley Cannons shirt for a five year old?
Merlin, I hope I can be that good of dad. I was so scared but I didn't take it out on a child who didn't really understand that he had done wrong.
No matter how much I move past it, I am still scared that I will end up being like the Dursleys.
James finished the bottle and after a surprisingly loud belch, the two played a round of Quidditch, meaning that Harry held the baby at arms length facedown and spoke appropriate commentator lines about Potter, the upstart Seeker from England, while the baby giggled, more at how his Daddy was moving him than what he was saying.
"And Potter pulls out of a hundred foot dive to catch the Snitch. England wins. England wins!"
……
Later that night, after a day of classes, a frustrating DA meeting, where he actually had to stun Zacharias Smith to keep him from physically attacking one of the Slytherin girls, and three essays, Harry tried to pick out a story to read to his son for bedtime. He had mostly been reading the Muggle stories that he knew from primary school or the shows that Dudley had watched on TV, so he felt it was time to read his son something wizarding, that wasn't a textbook. He spied a likely looking book.
'The Toadstool Tales by Beatrix Bloxam'
Harry pulled it off its shelf and sat down to read it to his son, who tried to grab the book and shove it in his mouth. Harry stretched so the book was out reach, as he had to do quite often these days since the baby wanted to put everything in his mouth. When the child squawked indignantly, Harry quickly summoned a pacifier from across the room and with amazing dexterity, put it in the babe's mouth before settling into read. The first tale was called 'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot.'
"Once upon a time, in a land of lollipops and gumdrops, live a little bitty boy called Wee Willykins. Wee Willykins was a grumpy-wumpy boyee, who was ever so fussywussy to all his dear dollywollies. He would yell and toss the poor dollywollies all over the room and never invite all of the dollies to tea at once, so that they would be jealous of the ones who were so luckywucky to get tea. Until one day Wee Willykins's mummy gave him a big new black pot…" Harry read aloud.
What is this? Dollywolly? Williknis. This is disgusting.
Apparently James agreed with his assessment as he managed to spit out his pacifier hard enough to actually hit the book.
Harry flipped pages to see if he could find an explanation for that kind of writing. At the end of the book he found a commentary that explained everything.
'This book contains Mrs. Bloxam's wonderful rewriting of classic Wizarding fairy tales and legends that were previously too, in her words, 'filled with unhealthy preoccupation with the most horrid subjects such as death, disease, bloodshed, wicked magic, unwholesome characters and bodily effusions and eruptions of the most disgusting kinds.' Thank you for providing lovely tales for sweet, innocent children to read.'
It's like an extreme Disneyification of fairy tales, losing most of the point alone the way. As well as becoming painful to read. But it also says that the Hopping Pot thing was originally a Beedle the Bard story. The original should be a lot better, and I think I have a copy of his stuff.
Sure enough, there was a thin blue book marked as 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' on the book shelf. A quick exchange, shoving the previous book to the back, hopefully to never be seen again, Harry settled in to read a story that was gruesome enough to hold his attention while still having a rather obvious message of the responsibility that being magic imparts to those who are fortunate enough to be able to use it.
I'll have to be sure to read this to him often when he gets older.
………….
A/N
I'm sorry. I know its short, but hey at least it didn't take 3 months this time. On that note:
Today is the one year anniversary of me starting this story! That's why I did this little chapter even though I have an unbelievably huge exam on Monday. (Frankly you're lucky the phrase Torsade de Pointes didn't come up anywhere.)
What a difference a year makes! From not wanting to study Pharmacology to being completely consumed with Therapeutics.
Thank you for all your wonderful reviews.
A little snippet did come from the Tales of Beedle the Bard (I have 2 copies.) And James's speech impediment is very similar to what I had at age 4. (Speech therapy was fun.) Anyway, I hope I will post again soon, but not for at least a week.
TTFN
Apothecary in training