AN: First of all, I must remind you all that this is an alternate universe fanfiction, which means the setting is very different. There is still the element of magic, but it is my definition of magic now. The characters, despite, my tweaking, still belong to the illustrious authoress who created them. Please do not be shocked at the W's and H's of each character. For one thing, I have strange sense of humor. For another, I appreciate irony. You have been warned. Otherwise, and I beam as I articulate this, enjoy my little brainchild!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the world of this story. The characters, save those you do not recognize, belong solely to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
The Witch
Prologue
"Witch…"
I hear it hissed behind me. I only pull my hood lower over my face continue weaving down the street, clutching my basket to me tighter, though I have no need to. My reputation had long gotten rid of any brave idiots; if there were any particularly stupid ones to bother me, they learned quickly to keep their distance. Otherwise, the people blatantly ignored the hunched figure covered with a yellowing gray cloak, going about her shopping.
"Please hurry up…" the little boy watching his father's fresh produce stand whispered, frightened eyes darted from the shadowed area of my face to my bandaged hands as they searched for a few plump fruits. I nod and give him the proper amount of money before hurrying away as he had wished me to. Then, I passed by a small niche and heard voices.
"I heard that she's over a hundred years old! That's why she takes the young women; she sucks out their youth!" I heard someone whisper to his companion, unaware that I was nearby. There was no question as to who "She" was. And I had to laugh at their ridiculous theories before again hurrying away again. The crowds of the usually friendly Hogsend town were hostile to one such as myself. I long for my cozy little cottage tucked far from this place with its warm hearth and inviting stuffed chair, hidden from the fearful hate I see in their stolen glances.
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Harry awoke to the violent glare of sunlight attacking his eyes. With a small yelp, the boy rolled over, rubbing his watering eyes. Someone left the curtains open again! He glanced accusingly at the other cot besides his own, only to see that it was empty, covers thrown haphazardly to the side as if the occupant had just left minutes ago. Harry knew better, knowing full well that bed had gone empty for perhaps hours now.
"He let me sleep in again…" grumbled Harry, unsure to be grateful or annoyed. Those extra hours of sleep always meant several more pranks waiting to happen. He dressed quickly, for despite the late morning sun outside his window, it was still chilly. Pulling on his shoes, from which he wisely dumped its contents of spiders out first, Harry stumbled across the dirt floor and splashed water on his face. Several loud expletives followed from the surprised boy as he back away from the basin to land on his bottom, eyes watering at the sting. Laughter sounded from the doorway behind him.
"Well, my boy, you still have much to learn if you still fall for that old trick after 16 years of life. Much to learn indeed," James commented wisely as he stroked his shaved chin, brown eyes twinkling. He stepped into the room, and with one easy movement pulled his son back on his feet.
"Thanks, Da," Harry said dryly, more in reference to the saltwater he had splashed himself with. The elder man clapped Harry on the shoulder, winking at him good-naturedly.
"Hurry up and finish up your chores, slave," James ordered as if he were some cruel slavedriver. "To the market we go today! There is treasure to be a'hunted!" They burst out laughing as father and son headed outside.
Harry breathed in deeply as he entered their workshop, the soft scent of different woods wafting to him. He loved it here. Here was where creation occurred, in all its chaotic glory. The workshop had actually been an old barn that Harry and James remodeled to suit their needs. Now, instead of hay and grass, bright wood curls and sawdust covered the dirt floor. The stall walls had been down, and in their place, two long tables along the sides of the barn, cluttered with hammers and chisels and nails. Sunlight streamed in from the open doors, highlighting the airy glow of the workshop.
After glancing quickly at a list tacked to the doorframe, Harry strode to his cluttered table. On top of all his junk was an uncompleted rocking chair, waiting to be sanded down and then delivered to the customer. The fresh smell of wood calmed him and the green-eyed boy set to work on his current project. James had approached the other table, his own projects dotting the tabled mess. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the sound of practiced activity to fill their ears.
Though he had indeed slept in, it was still relatively early in the morning. Harry quickly finished up his share of the work despite the number of commissions they had. The two Potters had been running a successful carpentry business for several years now. The town of Hogsend was a large one, and the daily activities of life were taxing on the tools of it. So father and son took it upon themselves to make strong, dependable items such as barrels, chairs, and brooms; just to name a few of the things that Harry and James could skillfully and efficiently produce. The townspeople paid well for their skill and the pair could live a decent life off their profits.
When the afternoon rolled around, James leapt to his feet from his hard bench, stretching his long limbs away from himself. Working stiffness out of his back from crouching over a special jewelry box request, the tall man grinned at the bowed figure of his son.
"Almost done there, Harry?"
Harry waved at his father, though his attention was still concentrated elsewhere. After a few moments, he turned and grinned widely.
"Completely done!" He proudly held up a polished statue of a maiden, her wooden hair seeming to come alive in an unseen wind that grabbed and danced in the folds of her mahogany dress. James gave an approving nod as he studied the piece.
"We can stop by the Jefferson's to deliver both my jewelry box and your statue. The boy will be delighted and his girlfriend will love it too." James and Harry exchanged smiles with hidden nostalgia, a moment of hesitant silence hanging between them. Both of them were fully aware that Harry's carving painfully resembled Lily Potter. But neither of them showed sign nor word it.
"Alright!" Harry said cheerfully as he carefully wrapped the small statue along with the box James had handed him.
"Last one to the marketplace is an rotten egg!" he suddenly yelled as he leapt to his feet and ran for the door.
"Hey, no fair!!!"
Theirs was a simple yet joyful life.
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