Rosco ushered them in, bringing them drinks, smiling widely he came
back into the room. He extended his hand to Hermione, beaming widely.
"Hello, my name is Rosco Porticelli. And you are?"
"Hermione Granger. I'm a close personal friend of Harry's."
Rosco nodded and looked at Lily. He smiled. "Oh pet, it's been too, too long. Look at you. You're all grown up." He did not ask for an explanation of the long absence, nor did he ask about the wizards. For a man like Rosco Porticelli, who had long ago learned that questions lead to problems, simply knowing that the people he loved were in his front room, drinking his tea and filling his rooms with talk and laughter.
"How has the shop been doing?" Harry asked.
"Oh good, old Mrs Pennbrener still walks over every other day, although I must say, she cannae really see anything but the ground, her back is so stooped. How has school been love?" He asked Lily.
"Oh good. It's so interesting. Hermione is one of my Professors. She teaches Transfiguration, and Neville, my dad's other friend is a the Herbology professor and Remus is Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. It's so much fun." She said this all quite fast and Rosco's eyes widened. When he had known Lily, as small, dark-haired Elisabeth, she had been quiet and shy, known to speak only when asked for months at a time.
"Oh. That's good." He managed.
"Oh yes. And I'm on the school Quidditch team." Rosco sat and listened to her tell the dynamics of Quidditch. "And," she finnished. "Dad plays profesional Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps, so does my friend Kris."
Rosco turned to Harry and raised his eyebrows. Harry laughed. "She's got the social disease."
"Looks like you have too." Rosco said,looking at Harry's arm around Hermione.
"Got my old friends back." Harry said, shrugging. Lily and Hermione got up to go find Rosco's cat and he turned to look at Harry.
"I thought you weren't going to go back. What happened to that?"
Harry shrugged, and sais nothing, but Rosco prodded on. "I thought you couldn't do it."
Harry looked down at his glass, and then up at Rosco. "Nobody said it would be easy. But no one said it would be this hard." He sat silently for a moment, and then looked back at Rosco. "I don't regret leaving in the first place, but I do regret not going back sooner."
Rosco nodded. "Is the wizard thing, is that-"
"Real?" Harry finished.
Rosco nodded. Silently Harry removed his wand from his pocket, whispered "Arcturus" and a rainbow of birds appeared in the air. Rosco opened and closed his mouth silently several times. Harry grinned.
Hermione and Lily came back down the stairs, Stuffy the cat in Lily's arms. "You haven't brushed her lately have you Uncle Rosco?" Lily asked sternly. "No matter." She pulled her wand out of her pocket and said several words and the cats matted fur smoothed and became silky.
Rosco's brow furrowed and he looked at the three of them, as though they were all playing a joke. "Why have I never heard of this magic?"
"We need to keep it from Muggles as much as possible." Lily said carelessly.
Rosco looked from Lily to Harry, they both seemed to think that such magic was not devine or even incredible, but simply a fact of life. He looked at Hermione, expecting to see the same look of carelessness on her face, but instead she was smiling kindly. "We, as witches and wizards, have a duty to hide our magic from common people, Muggles we call them. If we didn't people would always want magical solutions for their problems. And we are afraid they will do anything for these solutions."
Rosco thought about this for a while. He remembered something Harry had said once, when a priest told him to pray for salvation. "Only greedy people pray." Harry had said, turning out the door. When Rosco apologised to the priest, he caught up to Harry, and shaking his haid, he asked, "How could you say something like that?"
Harry looked Rosco in the eye and spoke quietly. "Greedy people believe that if they are good enough, if they pray hard enough they will get what they want. And eventuallyt hey will. But it wn't be god who gives it to them. They'll do it themselves. And they'll be happy about it. 'We pray, and we get what we want.' Praying is for the weak."
He wondered if this was what Hermione meant. After a while, people would stop asking, and eventuallyt hey'd do it themselves, with consequences, and it would be okay, because they asked first. He looked in Harry's eyes again, as he had so many years ago, and was surprised not to find the emptiness, the coldness, the distance that they had contained for the nine years Rosco had known him. They had something there. Harry Potter had something human inside him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!!!!!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
Somewhere within the hours of talking, Rosco realised he knew absolutely nothing about Harry. He knew only nine years of Harry Potter, and they were the loneliest, emptiest years in the young man's life. Even in Rosco's shallowest, most terrible years, he had not been so empty. At the grocers old women turned away from Harry, and clerks would not look him straight in the eyes. Rosco realised that he hadn't been able to look in Harry's eyes for a long time either. It wasn't that his eyes were filled with unbearable pain. It was that they were filled with nothing. Whatever you see in a persons eyes, you know is in their heart. Rosco's year twelve psychology teacher had told him that. It came back to him in a flood the day he met Harry Potter.
Rosco had gone over to Harry's a couple days after he and his daughter moved in. "I'm your neighbor, Rosco Portecelli." Rosco had said cheerfully. "I brought you a casserole."
"Thanks." Harry had said, not looking at Rosco. "Harry Potter. Would you like to come in?"
Rosco realised that this was not the owner of the house, but the owners son. It was so obvious, the sullen young man probably didn't want to leave his old home, especially not with his family. "Are your parents home?" Rosco asked brightly.
The young man snorted softly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Rosco agreed and the young brought him a cup. "Elisabeth. Front room." A tiny little girl, who didn't look any taller than Rosco's right arm, scurried in. "This is my daughter Elisabeth. Elisabeth, this is, Rosco did you say? Yes, Elisabeth this is Rosco Portecelli. Our neighbor."
Rosco looked from the young man to the little girl and back again. "Hello Elisabeth."
"Hello Mr Portecelli." The girl said in a near-whisper, then she turned and quietly left the room.
"Nice girl you've got there Harry. How old is she?"
"Just turned three in December."
"March daddy. My birthday is in March. He always forgets." The tiny voice floated from another room in the house.
Harry shrugged. "My wife was born in December."
"Is your wife around?" Rosco asked.
Harry had snorted in the same way he had when Rosco asked after his parents, but this time he spoke. "She's dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry. She couldn't have been very old."
"Eighteen." Harry said. Rosco remembered feeling frightened by this young man and his daughter, the way their voices were flat and empty. The same as their eyes. Even the little girl. Her eyes weren't filled with sorrow or pain. They were empty.
"I'm so sorry. Was she ill?"
"No." They never spoke about Susan Potter again.
After a while Lily got up to show Hermione around the neighborhood and Harry and Rosco were left alone. "I have to apologise Rosco. I was never completely honest with you about my past."
"You had your reasons." Rosco said calmly.
"No," Harry said forcefully. "I had no right to keep everything from someone who showed me so much kindness. I'm sorry."
"Harry, we allhave things that we run away from, and if you bring it with me, you aren't really running."
"No. I need to tell you everything now. You deserve to know." So for the next hour, Harry poured out his life story to Rosco Portecelli. "You're the only father I've ever had Ross. I just thought you should know." Rosco set his glass down on the table and hugged Harry. Then he sat back on his seat and smiled.
"You're a good kid Harry. Go home and make that woman your wife."
"Hermione Granger. I'm a close personal friend of Harry's."
Rosco nodded and looked at Lily. He smiled. "Oh pet, it's been too, too long. Look at you. You're all grown up." He did not ask for an explanation of the long absence, nor did he ask about the wizards. For a man like Rosco Porticelli, who had long ago learned that questions lead to problems, simply knowing that the people he loved were in his front room, drinking his tea and filling his rooms with talk and laughter.
"How has the shop been doing?" Harry asked.
"Oh good, old Mrs Pennbrener still walks over every other day, although I must say, she cannae really see anything but the ground, her back is so stooped. How has school been love?" He asked Lily.
"Oh good. It's so interesting. Hermione is one of my Professors. She teaches Transfiguration, and Neville, my dad's other friend is a the Herbology professor and Remus is Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. It's so much fun." She said this all quite fast and Rosco's eyes widened. When he had known Lily, as small, dark-haired Elisabeth, she had been quiet and shy, known to speak only when asked for months at a time.
"Oh. That's good." He managed.
"Oh yes. And I'm on the school Quidditch team." Rosco sat and listened to her tell the dynamics of Quidditch. "And," she finnished. "Dad plays profesional Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps, so does my friend Kris."
Rosco turned to Harry and raised his eyebrows. Harry laughed. "She's got the social disease."
"Looks like you have too." Rosco said,looking at Harry's arm around Hermione.
"Got my old friends back." Harry said, shrugging. Lily and Hermione got up to go find Rosco's cat and he turned to look at Harry.
"I thought you weren't going to go back. What happened to that?"
Harry shrugged, and sais nothing, but Rosco prodded on. "I thought you couldn't do it."
Harry looked down at his glass, and then up at Rosco. "Nobody said it would be easy. But no one said it would be this hard." He sat silently for a moment, and then looked back at Rosco. "I don't regret leaving in the first place, but I do regret not going back sooner."
Rosco nodded. "Is the wizard thing, is that-"
"Real?" Harry finished.
Rosco nodded. Silently Harry removed his wand from his pocket, whispered "Arcturus" and a rainbow of birds appeared in the air. Rosco opened and closed his mouth silently several times. Harry grinned.
Hermione and Lily came back down the stairs, Stuffy the cat in Lily's arms. "You haven't brushed her lately have you Uncle Rosco?" Lily asked sternly. "No matter." She pulled her wand out of her pocket and said several words and the cats matted fur smoothed and became silky.
Rosco's brow furrowed and he looked at the three of them, as though they were all playing a joke. "Why have I never heard of this magic?"
"We need to keep it from Muggles as much as possible." Lily said carelessly.
Rosco looked from Lily to Harry, they both seemed to think that such magic was not devine or even incredible, but simply a fact of life. He looked at Hermione, expecting to see the same look of carelessness on her face, but instead she was smiling kindly. "We, as witches and wizards, have a duty to hide our magic from common people, Muggles we call them. If we didn't people would always want magical solutions for their problems. And we are afraid they will do anything for these solutions."
Rosco thought about this for a while. He remembered something Harry had said once, when a priest told him to pray for salvation. "Only greedy people pray." Harry had said, turning out the door. When Rosco apologised to the priest, he caught up to Harry, and shaking his haid, he asked, "How could you say something like that?"
Harry looked Rosco in the eye and spoke quietly. "Greedy people believe that if they are good enough, if they pray hard enough they will get what they want. And eventuallyt hey will. But it wn't be god who gives it to them. They'll do it themselves. And they'll be happy about it. 'We pray, and we get what we want.' Praying is for the weak."
He wondered if this was what Hermione meant. After a while, people would stop asking, and eventuallyt hey'd do it themselves, with consequences, and it would be okay, because they asked first. He looked in Harry's eyes again, as he had so many years ago, and was surprised not to find the emptiness, the coldness, the distance that they had contained for the nine years Rosco had known him. They had something there. Harry Potter had something human inside him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!!!!!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
Somewhere within the hours of talking, Rosco realised he knew absolutely nothing about Harry. He knew only nine years of Harry Potter, and they were the loneliest, emptiest years in the young man's life. Even in Rosco's shallowest, most terrible years, he had not been so empty. At the grocers old women turned away from Harry, and clerks would not look him straight in the eyes. Rosco realised that he hadn't been able to look in Harry's eyes for a long time either. It wasn't that his eyes were filled with unbearable pain. It was that they were filled with nothing. Whatever you see in a persons eyes, you know is in their heart. Rosco's year twelve psychology teacher had told him that. It came back to him in a flood the day he met Harry Potter.
Rosco had gone over to Harry's a couple days after he and his daughter moved in. "I'm your neighbor, Rosco Portecelli." Rosco had said cheerfully. "I brought you a casserole."
"Thanks." Harry had said, not looking at Rosco. "Harry Potter. Would you like to come in?"
Rosco realised that this was not the owner of the house, but the owners son. It was so obvious, the sullen young man probably didn't want to leave his old home, especially not with his family. "Are your parents home?" Rosco asked brightly.
The young man snorted softly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Rosco agreed and the young brought him a cup. "Elisabeth. Front room." A tiny little girl, who didn't look any taller than Rosco's right arm, scurried in. "This is my daughter Elisabeth. Elisabeth, this is, Rosco did you say? Yes, Elisabeth this is Rosco Portecelli. Our neighbor."
Rosco looked from the young man to the little girl and back again. "Hello Elisabeth."
"Hello Mr Portecelli." The girl said in a near-whisper, then she turned and quietly left the room.
"Nice girl you've got there Harry. How old is she?"
"Just turned three in December."
"March daddy. My birthday is in March. He always forgets." The tiny voice floated from another room in the house.
Harry shrugged. "My wife was born in December."
"Is your wife around?" Rosco asked.
Harry had snorted in the same way he had when Rosco asked after his parents, but this time he spoke. "She's dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry. She couldn't have been very old."
"Eighteen." Harry said. Rosco remembered feeling frightened by this young man and his daughter, the way their voices were flat and empty. The same as their eyes. Even the little girl. Her eyes weren't filled with sorrow or pain. They were empty.
"I'm so sorry. Was she ill?"
"No." They never spoke about Susan Potter again.
After a while Lily got up to show Hermione around the neighborhood and Harry and Rosco were left alone. "I have to apologise Rosco. I was never completely honest with you about my past."
"You had your reasons." Rosco said calmly.
"No," Harry said forcefully. "I had no right to keep everything from someone who showed me so much kindness. I'm sorry."
"Harry, we allhave things that we run away from, and if you bring it with me, you aren't really running."
"No. I need to tell you everything now. You deserve to know." So for the next hour, Harry poured out his life story to Rosco Portecelli. "You're the only father I've ever had Ross. I just thought you should know." Rosco set his glass down on the table and hugged Harry. Then he sat back on his seat and smiled.
"You're a good kid Harry. Go home and make that woman your wife."