author: Lucinda
rated y/t
main character: Harry Potter. There are no romantic relationships for Harry in this Pottery Shard.
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Harry Potter, or the official characters of the magical world. There are two real world movies referenced, I hold no legal rights over those or the actor appearing in them both. I hold no legal rights to the real-world band mentioned later. Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers (I think?) but not me. Actors and the band belong to themselves.
set the summer after 2nd year, so before Prisoner of Azkaban.
Formatting contains punctuation and a different font for the letter.
PS..NiW..PS..NiW..PS..NiW..
Harry Potter was currently curled in a window seat in the seldom used rear parlor of the Leakey Cauldron, in London. The boards of the seat were a little uneven, the glass of the window bore a resemblance to the fluid resulting from rinsing out a bottle of milk, and the dust tickled at his nose. But he'd far rather be here, reading his transfiguration book for the theory of small to medium animal to inanimate transfiguration - great for turning turtles into teapots than back at the almost hospital clean Privit Drive. Yes, he was an almost thirteen year old boy enjoying his summer homework.
Where he sat, he could hear the blurred babble of half a dozen conversations from the front room. A group of wizards were talking about Quidditch - apparently the Wanderers had just soundly defeated the Bats, the Harpies were talking about doing a photo calendar to raise money for St Mungo's, and Puddlemere had just signed a new Seeker who might have a bit of a drinking problem. A pair of older sounding women were talking about their grandchildren, one of whom had just run off with a dreadful boy - disrespectful, unemployed, and broke. Someone named Dung was running around selling cheap cauldrons, likely stolen. And there was all sorts of talk about Sirius Black, who'd apparently been a Quidditch Beater in Hogwarts and left a flock of broken hearts, most but not all of them the girls at school.
On a scrap of paper, Harry was making notes about things he'd want to find more information on later. Quidditch teams and possible pretty witches on calendars had made the list immediately. This Sirius Black who was supposed to have betrayed his parents had already been there from the Knight Bus, which was also on the list, as was asking if the magical world knew about seatbelts.
Once he stopped feeling so very full from the enormous lunch Tom the Bartender had given him, Harry intended to go to Gringott's and ask a few questions. It was a quiet time in the alley, with school shopping not expected to pick up for a while. He really wanted to figure out how much he had, how long he could expect it to last, and if he'd inherited anything other than a room full of metal coins. He was hoping for something which would serve as a home away from Dursleys - a house, a cottage, even a shack on an island would be better. A nice patch of land and a tent would be better than the Dursleys.
Harry would admit to himself that he enjoyed wandering about the Alley without people whispering about the Boy-Who-Lived or pointing at him. Looking at all the people was nice, it let him consider how witches and wizards dressed, and listen to sort of ordinary people and families. Not to forget all the cool things to look at. And he didn't think it would quite do to admit he'd spent quite a while watching the two guard-goblins posted outside the bank. They didn't seem to be inclined to talk to the witches or wizards going in and out of the bank, making Harry wonder if their job was something like the guards outside Buckingham Palace – stand there and look impressive and intimidating with scary weapons.
His parents had a vault, and there was another for the Potter family line. He wasn't allowed to so much as cross through the door for the Potter Family Vault until he was counted as an adult by the goblins. While he wasn't allowed to remove anything from the vault which had belonged to James and Lily, he was allowed inside, and could look at objects and written documents inside. He didn't tell the goblins the idea of his parents' documents might be better than gold to him.
There was a letter from his dad, written to him with a quick scrawl of 'For my son. just in case – Name isn't really Harry'. Opening it, Harry stared at the words as his mind tried to process the story contained, seeking answers for the scrawl on the outside. His name wasn't really Harry? Why wouldn't it be Harry, and if it wasn't, then what was his name? And why had he thought it was Harry all these years? Why did everyone think his name was Harry?
To my beloved son, called Harry,
First, if nobody has told you before now, legal documents should always be written using your full, legal name. And Harry isn't your legal name. It's what we've been calling you, and telling people, but not... not the name on the official documents.
The traditional suggestions would have been Charlus - after my father, James after me - we used that for your middle name - or Daffyd, after your mother's father. But we thought it was too soon for either Charlus or Daffyd, and naming you Daffyd would be a guarantee of the nickname daffodill when you were older. We settled on James as a middle name for a boy. With luck, we've been there your whole life, resulting in you sitting there muttering 'I know all these stories, Dad. You've told me a thousand times, and how I could have been named Amaryllis Jane Potter if I was a girl...'
Your mother thinks we need to have letters tucked in here for you, for certain points in life or situations. I'm not sure if the letters are for you or just an excuse to make me or both of us sit down and think about these things before events are happening, or to make sure everything is planned for problems. Since I fully intend to be with you every step of the way throgh growing up, I'll just come back and remove them from the vault as you reach those milestones.
I wanted to name you after a character in a muggle movie we watched. I don't know how well known the movie will be when you're old enough to read the letter, though it made a big splash in muggle communities and even managed to get a sequel! The sequel was released the year before you were born, and your mother and I had to go see it, even if it was summer and her quite pregnant with you.
I still say Han Solo would be a great name for a son. Your mother didn't agree, and suggested Luke or Ben. But I'd rather if you learn about those movies, you be more like the smart and suave smuggler than the clueless farm boy or the old guy hiding from his past.
She wanted to name you George, after one of her favorite musicians. With the idea of younger brothers named John and Paul, though perhaps Ringo would be a little silly. I told her that among wizards, where we have names like Sirius, Albus, Mundungus and Armando, nobody would bat an eye at Ringo.
So we compromised. Harrison, and then I can say we named you for the actor who played the dashing Han Solo. He's apparently going to be in another movie coming out this summer, playing some sort of tomb raider or treasure hunter. When you're older, if I'm not there, find out about a movie called Indiana Jones. And she can say we named you after her favorite Beatle (You HAVE to know who they are - even the Weasleys know who the Beatles are!) George Harrison.
Which means for all your highly official legal documents, you are currently Harrison James Potter, Heir Apparent to the House and Family Potter. One day many years from now you will become the forty second Head of the Potter Family. Makes it all sound impressive, doesn't it?
I have to admit, it isn't quite as impressive as it sounds when writing it out all stuffy. But discussion of the Potter Family and inheritances and holdings and the responsibilities of the Head of the Family and the lesser responsibilities of the Heir Apparent can wait for another time.
And you can still be Harry. and the one good thing about the dashing Potter windswept hair is we keep it. Potter hair may never look tamed, but the last time a Potter went and stayed bald younger than 'closer to two centuries than one' was back in the 1500's. Hexes, potions and shaving your head (apparently one of great-grandfather's brothers did this before duels and war) don't count.
your father,
the wonderful, the amazing James Potter
Harry could feel himself grinning as he read the letter. He wasn't really surprised the real, legal and official version of his name was a little more formal - even Prince Harry had been christened Henry, though with about a half dozen more names for good measure. But his legally formal name wasn't echoing stuffy old grandfathers who'd used languages which weren't quite English. Named for a famous actor and one of the Beatles? Far better than some of the names he knew of people having. At least it wasn't something stuffy and awful, like Ronald Bilius, or that sixth year called William Tiberius, or that poor Ravenclaw with the Russian name none of the Gryffindors seemed to be able to pronounce, so he was called Nick. Or the Hufflepuff firstie called Bert, who turned out to have the name Ethelbert Bjornjarl the third, a small boy with great big ears that turned bright red when the Hufflepuff girl with the puffs of curly hair on either side of her head teased him about his name. Though hers was Ati Sharmarke, so Harry wasn't sure she had any room to tease someone about a foreign sounding name.
And George Harrison? Even the Dursleys tolerated the Beatles, calling them a solid group of working class boys who managed to make something of themselves. They wouldn't be able to count themselves as British if they didn't approve of the Beatles. And George was still alive, unlike poor John, so that might be a good thing.
Harry resisted the urge to go buy a guitar. He didn't know how to play one anyhow.
end Pottery Shard: My Name isn't Harry?