Harry is having a very bad day. It started when his aunt, Petunia, insisted that he re-do the flower bed that he weeded the other day. Apparently there should not be weeds in the grass as well.
So Harry is sitting on his knees in the grass pulling up weeds from the back yard grass. Harry is a small boy, no less than eight years of age, with jet black hair and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
Harry was told at a very young age that he got that scar from his parents dying in a car crash. Drunk, no less; drinking while driving. Harry didn't understand the drunk part. As he always sees uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia drinking when they drive. Personally Harry doesn't understand how water can cause a car accident. But the way aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon talked, drinking while driving is very bad. Yet he sees them drinking all the time, from cola to bottled water.
So Harry is quite skeptical about how drinking made the car crash. But that is how he got the scar.
Harry grasped his forehead as he gave out a wince. Its been quite some time since the last time that his scar acted out, but it is acting up now.
Like a sharp thumping on his head, the scar seemed to want to burst out every now and then. But instead of bursting out, it would only bleed.
Harry wiped a small faint outline of blood out of his palm, and got back to weeding the backyard.
It is getting close to twilight, and the light is soon sparkling in the air, mixing day with night, and having sun rays dance in the middle.
His shadow over extending past the normal height of his body, Harry is getting excited as the time of his weeding is soon to be up.
But Harry then notices another shadow, one slightly smaller than his. Harry turned around, to see a small looking man. But this is no man. For the figure has a very long pointy nose, pointy ears, and an aged face. "Can I help you, Mr...?"
"May I help you. Gritzlstiltskin is the name, and I think that you and I can make a deal."
Harry is turned aback at the little figure. "Mr. Gritzlstiltskin, I'm not sure I can help you. Better to be off this land."
"I'll be off the land as soon as you wish, my dear little master. Gritzlstiltskin is the name, and a faery I am. I only come across you as you have something that can be a very profitable deal. For the both of us. It concerns your scar."
"A faery? my scar? Faeries don't exist, and, well, what about my scar?"
"It is a good thing that I don't exist, else you would shoo me off the land", then the faery leaned in to Harry "but your scar is another matter. It gestates abominations, life. For how long? I can't say. But your scar is pulsing with life, and I can remove it for you, but for a trifle, a small price."
Harry, despite all the talk full of spit of drunk driving, and all the pain that the scar brings, Harry has feelings for it. He is kind of proud of the scar.
"I don't really think that would work. I would rather keep the scar."
"But you shall, and so much more. In fact" here the faery squinted "I can give you a second scar. Such that you have twin scars, well metaphorically, technically."
Here the little faery took out a long parchment of paper filled with words. "A contract, for me to remove the scar, and in return you get new life; two babies hidden in the scar."
"Babies in my scar? You can make babies out of my scar."
"They are already made, the details just need to be filled out, like this contract. Just sign here..."
"No. I'm not signing that. What exactly do you want?"
"Why nothing more than half, a fair share. Your first born son."
"No."
"Your first born daughter."
"No."
"You."
"What about me."
"Everyone has the potential to produce volatility. I want you to devote your life to producing volatility for me."
"What does this volatility do?"
"It is a primordial force used in many protective enchantments. It is the disruption in life that you make. And you, my little master, make a lot of disruption. Think of it as faery money."
"Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. How do I give you my volatility?"
"You first must make a choice, which kind of volatility that you will produce. There is fallen volatility; you produce this by making social safety nets for others, while never taking as much as you put in. You are a net saver of people's situations.
The second is risen volatility; you constantly disappoint others, taking their money or other valuable for awesome ventures that fail to be productive."
"So I'm either a supporter or a disappointer?"
"Yes. You don't have to make the choice now, either volatility will do. Just sign on the dotted line of " and here the little faery rummaged around in his sack and pulled out a new sheet of paper "this contract, right here."
Harry peered down closer to the contract. Harry read it all, twice. Some words he couldn't understand, but several words seared into his mind "twins, scar, and raise."
"Okay, I will produce volatility for you, and then I get children from my scar?"
"Exactly."
Harry signed the contract with a pen offered by the faery. Once signed, the contract flared up in flames and burned away.
"I will need some of the blood of the scar for this birthing ritual." The faery then swabbed the scar, taking some blood with him.
"On the full moon of the next month, a terrible extraction of the scar will occur over you. During that time, I will arrive with the twins to show you. But remember the terms of the contract. I will raise them in faery land. You pay for their up keep with your volatility. You may call me whenever you please, and I will show them to you. In fact, you will always have a mirror with you that will show them. At any time, you will know where they are and what they are doing."
The faery then took a step back and disappeared in the disappearing rays of twilight.
Harry felt very nervous and excited about the encounter that he just had.
He dare not mention it to his family, especially his cousin, Dudley, as he feared what they would do. The last time that he mentioned magic, he only ate breakfast for an entire month.
And so Harry went back into the house, telling his Aunt that he had finished weeding half the lawn. "What? Only half. You lazy boy, no supper for you. Into your room." And Harry walked down the hall to the stair case, where he opens the cupboard under the stairs, into a small matted room with a small cot and quilt, and sat down before closing the door.
The sound of the door locking from the outside is heard as soon as Harry sits down. And Harry lays there, staring at the ceiling, looking forward to when the full moon will rise.
The rest of the month went by with little incident, and it is the night of the full moon.
Harry is locked again in his cupboard under the stairs, and he feels great pulses from his scar. His scar is bleeding quite a bit, and he is in quite a bit of pain, as he tries to contain the tug of war of sensations filling his head.
And then in an instant it ended, and all Harry could feel is the warm blood slowly trickling down his face from his scar. The locks of the door loudly unlock, and the door swings open to reveal the faery; Gritzlstiltskin. "I have come." And in his arms are a bundle of white soft sheets.
Harry moved forward to the faery and parted open the soft white sheets, revealing two black haired babies.
Harry peered at them for what seemed like hours but was instead minutes.
"And here is your mirror. Just look upon it, and only you can look upon it, and you may see the twins. Do you have a name for them?"
"Yes, Electrosium for the girl, and Gravitirium for the boy."
Harry thought that he could never get tired of looking at them, but the more he looked, the more he noticed that these were the most miserable looking babies that he had ever seen or could imagine. Their faces were shriveled, and their noses too big and flat. In short, they were ugly.
And for some reason, Harry now felt a great anger towards them, and some stirrings of envy.
Harry couldn't explain it, but he knew deep down it is for the best that the faery raises them.
"I guess I could always look at them in the mirror whenever I want?"
"Yes."
And the faery disappeared, with the twins in his care.
Harry looked down at the mirror, and there in the reflection it showed the two smelly babies, their ugly faces contorting around in a soft sleep.
Harry went to bed looking at the mirror.