Sitting On The Baby By HPOD sufferer
Date: Thursday, 27th May, 5:24PM
Rating: K+ (Scary and Supernatural themes may scare young children, includes character death), sexual implications (very minor)
Summary: Sirius bounded into the compartment, making to sink into the seat next to Lily. The seat in which a sleeping baby...well, slept.Eyes popping, James grabbed his friend's wrists, stopping him from sitting. Sirius Black was frozen in a strange, half-sitting, half-standing position. Lily grabbed the baby quickly, and James released his friend."You know," said Lily " Baby sitting doesn't usually consist of actually sitting on the baby."
A baby has appeared. Where from? Why? Who does the baby belong to? Harry travels to Marauder Era. AS A BABY! Something went seriously wrong on that Halloween night.
Chapter 7: Enemies In The Walls
What is done is done,
And we'll meet the future when it comes.
Frightful events, they draw near,
The darkest wizard you have to fear.
When the enemy dwells inside the walls,
Fight it strong, before our army falls.
Lily burst into the room, slipping on the slick floor. Harry was clutched to her chest. Sobbing, she slid down the wall.
She had thought her day couldn't get worse. But as the old saying goes: 'just as they thought things couldn't get any worse, it did'.
Her legs stretched out in front of her. Harry was sleeping, mercifully. She held him as a small child would hold their most beloved toy. Holding on for dear life.
The face. The eyes...the shudder she had tried to suppress.
She really didn't like Severus Snape.
Although she had flown at Potter and his cronies every time they abused the Slytherin, it was not because she cared for him. It was because she believed, given the chance, anyone could be good. Potter was taking away that chance.
Lily had had that chance stolen from her by her sister, and that was the reason she couldn't stand it happening to anyone else.
So she didn't she any reason why Snape treated her like he did. Cold indifference, and a jibe every so often. What he had said today was worse than cruel, however.
You looked way better in the picture, Evans.
What did you say to that? Agree that you looked amazing with a body ten times the size of your own? Or realise you're actually ugly in real life? Get real.
I'd love to see it again.
She felt dirty, and ashamed and...red. Her face was the same colour as her hair.
Care to give a demonstration? So many people are so eager to see it.
Is this what being a prostitute felt like? Having no purpose but to fulfil hormonal boy's dreams? She hiccupped, holding back to bile.
she closed her eyes, but his dark ones stared back at her from under her lids.
Ewww.
It was bad enough seeing snape in the flesh, but in her mind? She shuddered.She just wanted for it to go.
The door creaked. Lily's face buried itself in Harry's soft black hair. The tears still came, her breath still shuddered and came in gasps.
Something warm appeared at her side, and an arm snaked its way across her heaving shoulders. A smell that was unfamiliar wafted up her nose; wood, rain, dirt and grass and a whiff of something that was suspiciously like fur. It was the most perfect smell she'd ever come across, she could practically drink it in.
Whoever it was rocked her comfortingly, not saying a word but letting her cry. She was glad-it really got on her nerves when people asked "are you alright?" in these types of situations-it was obvious that she was not.
"Ohhh...Evans and Potter sitting on the floor, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes luurve, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage-"
"Shut up Myrtle!"
There was no way Lily could mistake that voice. Her eyes swivelled to look at James Potter, Head boy, git and the best smelling person she'd ever met. She did the only sensible thing she could do...she screamed.
Most people would recoil from such an action. But no, Potter had to be so- urgh- as to hold her tighter. "He's a right foul git, ain't he?" he asked her.
Who's a foul git? Snape? James? Harry? Santa Claus?
She struggled, and stood, backing away towards the sinks. Not really thinking, she dumped Harry into one of the sinks and continued to watch Potter like a caged animal. "Leave me alone, it's none of you business."
"None of my business?" He asked, taking a step towards her, hands hanging limply by his sides. "How so?"
"BECAUSE IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, WHY SHOULD YOU BLOODY CARE, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"Of course I care," James said softly, in an almost hurt tone.
"I DON'T CARE! LEAVE ME ALONE, JUST GO!"
Leave me alone. Leave him alone, he's just a child. Go, go, go!
Lily didn't understand why James had blanched as he did at her words. "Say that again," he coughed.
"I beg you pardon?"
"Say 'Leave me alone' " James repeated.
"Leave me alone?" she said confusedly.
James nodded. "Now say, 'he's just a child', go on, say it."
"He's just a child," Lily said, feeling like a fool.
Sssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaaar ssssssssay sssasssssssaaaassssshiiiiiiiii.
Moaning Myrtle screamed. James's face drained completely, eyes locked on the sink behind Lily. Lily felt her spine stiffen.
Ssssssssssssssllassssaaaaaaarrrrrrr sssssssssssssssssssseeennnnnnn.
Moaning Myrtle floated stock-still beside James, looking more of a ghost than ever before.
Something groaned behind Lily. Her heart thumping a million beats per second, she turned slowly.
Harry was in the sink, looking as carefree as before. But the sink was descending. Lily, on pure instinct, grabbed him before it sank completely into the floor, revealing a gaping hole.
Myrtle whimpered.
"Lily, I want you to back away slowly," James said. "Come very slowly towards me."
There was no way Lily was stupid enough to disobey him.
Once she reached him, she held onto him. "W-what…happen..." she stammered.
James was staring at Harry however. "He's a parselmouth," he said, as if in awe. He looked towards the hole. "And...Sweet Merlin." He turned to the frightened ghost of Myrtle. "Can you get Dumbledore?"
She nodded mutely and floated up through the ceiling, looking thoroughly grateful to be leaving.
Minutes later, Dumbledore entered, took one look around and paled. "What is going on?" he bit out.
"Harry-sir. He spoke snake language, sir." James said in shock. Dumbledore strode over to the hole and peered down it. "Genius," he muttered. He glanced at Lily. "Could I have Harry a moment, please?" The boy was placed in his arms by a numb Lily Evans.
Dumbledore took out his wand and started to wordlessly twirl it around Harry's head, his eyes closed in concentration. A full ten minutes later his eyes opened.
He looked very disappointed, yet relieved. "No difference," he muttered.
"No difference between what, sir?" James asked curiously.
"Nothing that really concerns you, dear boy." Dumbledore said lightly, but with a hidden trace of finality that told the two student they were not to talk of this. "But I think I may keep young Harry here for a few days, to give you two a rest."
Lily highly doubted that was honestly the reason, but did not object. Placidly she and James left the bathroom, just as the bell rang.
They were only one minute late for class.
James had forgotten all about asking Lily to say those odd sentences, but Lily had not. Leave me alone. He's just a child. Yep, something was definitely off about that.
Lily wanted to find out why.
Snape threw a smug look over his shoulder as she sat down. She knew her face was tear-stained.
"Sod off," she muttered, even though he wouldn't hear her. He turned back, and James slipped- to her annoyance and embaressment - into the seat next to her.
"I don't think I will," James whispered, not even looking at her but locking his eyes on Professor Flitwick.
Why did Lily have to be surrounded by her enemies?
Dumbledore placed the toddler on his desk. "Harry Potter, what am I to do with you?" he asked, stroking his long silver beard.
"Ga-ga." Harry answered sincerely.
"Well yes, here's that." Dumbledore said thoughtfully as if it were an intelligible answer. "But not the best idea, dear child, no…"
Harry snorted and pulled a piece of parchment from the bottom of a pile. He haughtily lowered his eyes with the air of a secretary.
Never mind he couldn't read.
After a moment of glaring at it, he gently put it down. His small podgy hand went to his chin. "Switch." he said simply. "Switch."
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore said amusedly. "Switch what?"
"Stop." Harry ordered.
Dumbledore could never had guessed that Harry was mimicking him from another time.
Dumbledore leaned across the desk. "Do you like Voldemort?" he asked.
Many people would say this was a stupid question to ask a boy so young. He couldn't possibly understand.
But there is a theory. A theory that, before children can successfully communicate with adults, they have infinite knowledge.
The theory isutter rubbish. Just in case you were stupid enough to believe it.
But babies do know, in their first couple of years of life, what their destiny is. But since they are so young, they cannot possible notify anyone else, and as soon as they are able to do that, they forget.
Harry was still at the age where he knew his destiny. He hadn't gotten to the part of his life where he claimed "I wanna be a fire engine when I grow up " ( nor the wizarding version of "I wanna be a broomstick when I come of age"). He just knew his destiny like one knows the present weather (about to rain, for your information).
But he couldn't really talk, except a few phrases.
There was no way he could tell Dumbledore he was THE ONE. The Chosen One, if you will. But Harry knew it, and that was enough.
"Huggy?" He asked, stretching his arms towards the older man. Dumbledore obliged and held the boy close.
"I have a good feeling about you, Harry."
Harry put a hand to his small mouth.
"Now, now, I know you don't think so, but I can feel you're gong to be great, little Potter. Well, that's a rather-"
He stopped, because Harry had turned green.
"Harry?" he questioned. He hadn't much experience with such young children.
Harry's mouth opened and he projectile vomited into the Headmaster's beard. now, we all know Dumbledore is the most forgiving of all people (second only to god), but this was just too much. It was worse than when he'd eaten a vomit-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean...the stench of vomit hung around him like a mist. Spluttering he put Harry on the floor and performed some quick, spectacular spell work. He robes cleaned themselves, his hat wringed itself out and his shoes flew to the window and started to tap each other clean.
Several storeys below two second year students screeched as the orange and green goo landed on their heads.
He turned to Harry with a glare that could make Voldemort himself break down in tears of fright.
Harry smiled contently back.
"Fankyou Bwumble."
Dumbledore resolved to reconsider whether Harry was a dark or a light wizard.
As Dumbledore retreated to his bed that night he spared a look out the window. The stars shone bright, and the quarter moon looked dull and tired of shining upon the world. That was a feeling he couldn't relate to, not yet in his long life. He had never felt weak, as of such. Not weak enough to want to give up.
Dumbledore thought over the memory of Harry's he had seen. The older James Potter's eyes sweeping gently, almost knowingly out the darkened window. The tinkle of a stone hititng a flower pot.
Lily's eyes. So full of love throughout the whole ordeal. They way she stood infront of Harry, dying to protect him.
Harry had survived Voldemort. He had crippled the Dark Lord whilst doing so. Wow.
There was hope for them yet. But the question was...what now? Let Harry stay? Send him back to face his destiny- because Dumbledore had no doubt that Voldemort had not been fully defeated that night. Tell James and Lily? So many questions. And whatever choice he made in the end, no matter what it was, Dumbledore had an inkling he would regret it.
He pulled the blankets up to his chin, his mind sifting through the choices.
If he sent Harry back (or forward or whatever appropriate term should be used) would, or should he or anyone else remember Harry? Or would or should they be forced to forget in order for the fates to play their hands undisturbed?
He tossed in the silence.
A low rumble seemed to shake the ancient school's foundations.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat up in bed, his bed cap askew, eyes searching out his shaking door in the dark.
A/n: It sucks, I know (alright, so the chamber got opened, big deal) but I'm a crap bucket at the moment. And don't ever ask me to repeat Dumbly-dorr's full name ever again.
Read? Liked? Hated? REVIEW! (or I'll get the monster of Slytherin to come after you...not pleasant)