Well, here it is, as promised, the sequel to Boy Who Lived: Take Two. But first, a few notes. Harry Potter: Take Two will update once a week, on Fridays, even though this first one came on Thursday. I have a lot going on right now, but I don't want to stop writing, so this is the best compromise I could come up with. Depending on how this schedule works, I might bump up the pace, but… this is what I've got for now.
This fic contains an m/m pairing. This is your only warning.
Harry Potter and associated characters do not belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am definitely not she. Hey! That rhymed!
Snapshot. A small cottage on the moor. A black-haired, green-eyed boy's sixth birthday party. The other children—his friends from school—had gone home, and the boy happily wrestled with the large black dog that was his godfather. In the background, a man with tawny hair and golden eyes patiently washed ice cream residue off the faces of a pair of impish-looking four-year-olds.
The name of the birthday boy was Harry Potter. He had his father's looks, and his mother's eyes, and his favorite food was chocolate chip ice cream.
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Snapshot. Hogwarts. A hooknosed man with greasy hair had a three-year-old girl attached to each of his legs. He snarled at a lovely woman—pale, but with a wealth of dark brown hair and huge dark grey eyes—and demanded that she 'remove her hellspawn from his legs.' Nearby, a seven-year-old boy exchanged a grin with a man who could have been the mother's twin. They'd convinced the girls that 'uncle Snapey needed a hug.'
The boy's name was Harry Potter. He had new glasses, and a sack full of chocolate frogs, and his favorite pastime was riding his broom.
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Snapshot. A quiet neighborhood road. A puckish set of six-year-old boys sit atop bicycles for the first time in their lives. Twin mops of dark brown hair cap grinning faces set with huge grey eyes. Their gaze is focused on a boy not much taller than they, although he's two years older. The boy was their brother, and he was teaching them how to ride bikes like Daddy. Although Daddy's bike was much larger, and had a motor instead of pedals.
The older brother's name was Harry Potter. He was a best friend to his adoptive brothers, and a hero to his adoptive sisters, and a constant delight to his adoptive parents.
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Snapshot. London Zoo. A nine-year-old boy was holding a red rat snake up at eye level, talking to it. Staring at him in shocked befuddlement was a tawny-haired man in a zoo uniform. The boy had come with his Papa to visit his Dad at work. They hadn't known the boy was a parseltongue.
The boy's name was Harry Potter. He had a curse scar from an evil wizard, and a gift from that same wizard, and a destiny that would shape his life.
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Snapshot. The cottage on the moor. A family portrait. In the back stood a man with tawny hair and golden eyes, flanked by a dark-haired, fair-skinned pair that the casual observer would assume were brother and sister. The brunettes each had a smiling eight-year-old boy in front of them, and in front of the boys were their five-year-old sisters. In the center was an older boy—ten, perhaps, although he was only an inch taller than the lads on either side of him.
That boy's name was Harry Potter. He was an orphan and an only child, but he had three parents, and four siblings.
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Remus smoothed dirt over the newest photograph in the collection, burying it with the others and then reaching up and tracing the names on the headstone in front of him. Lily and James. A glance behind him showed that Sirius and Rory were finishing up their personal rituals over the graves and would be ready to leave soon. With a sigh and a nod, Remus patted the carved marble like an old friend before conjuring up a wreath of lilies and orchids. Their favorite flowers. Lilies for James and orchids for Lily.
The three visitors stood, reluctant to leave the peaceful spot, but at the same time feeling as if they'd spoken with old friends who they'd see again soon. The last one out the gate, Sirius turned back to the flower-shrouded marker and smiled. "He's growing into a fine boy. You'd both be so proud of him. I know I am."
And perhaps, beyond the veil, the departed but beloved ones smiled back at him.
Like it? Didn't like it? Review either way! Oh, and sorry about the rather solemn tone at the end there. I've been spending a lot of time in cemeteries lately.