"Wow your–" –Harrison James Septimus née Potter
"Yeah, I know…. I'm ugly." –Hellboy (aka Anung Un Rama)
"(Insert giggle) NO…. Cool!" –Harrison James Septimus née Potter
"Eh? Well, you're all right kid. Here have a beer…" –Hellboy (aka Anung Un Rama)
"Red?!" –John Herman Septimus (formerly Spartan-117)
"Kidding! Sheesh… have a little faith will yah?" –Hellboy (aka Anung Un Rama)
"…." –John Herman Septimus (formerly Spartan-117)
"Green?" – Abe Sapien (formerly Langdon Everett Caul)
"Not now Blue. I am contemplating my urge to throttle." –John Herman Septimus (formerly Spartan-117)
Chapter 2: GROWING PAINS
"You want me to do WHAT?!" the seven foot tall vermilion demon stumbled back while hold his seventh beer. Half of which was sprayed comically over his poker-face drinking buddy. The inebriated demons thought he was being invited over to get plastered like they (he) usually did after summits. Like the one he weaseled out of last month. "Look you've been like bother to me since I was like ten or something…, but you can't be serious? Why the hell not Abe?"
The devil in red pointed to the blue amphibious man playing with a four year old wizard on John's private beach along the Nova Scotia shoreline. Not too far away sat a fire-manipulator calmly resting on one of the many smooth outcropping with a sunbathing lamia who was vigilantly observing the wee wizard (aka her mother-hen-mode).
"Because I trust you…. For the most part anyway," the demon's enlister into godfather-hood said neutrally while drying his face with an olive green handkerchief. 117 then began to uncorked another one of his own drinks. Faster than most can blink the red monkey's tail swiped the 750 milliliter bottle playfully from the indifferent commando's hand.
"What's dis crap you drinking anyway?" He slurred a little while yellow eyes read the label. "La Fin du Monde (The End of the World)…? Sounds French. Are YOU French John?"
"No and it's Québécois…. I think," Septimus corrected while Hellboy took a two second swig and began to gag at the bite, "Careful it's a lot stronger than that water your used to."
"Ass," the demon growled before handing the bottle back over to a still partially dripping Septimus. "What the hell is Québ-whatever it's called?
"French Canadian."
"There's a difference?" John gave Hellboy his own patented, 'what do you think?' look. The B.P.R.D. agent just sighed before noticing the clutter he had been making, "Sorry about the mess I'll…."
"Forget about it," John waved it off dismissively. The Spartan-II was too busy watching his son learn how to boogie board from their perch on the back deck to really care.
"So your serious?" was the World Destroyer's next intelligible choice of words as he stood next to the man who was oddly a few inches taller than him. John just ignored the question forcing the demon to make a resigned sigh, "Of course your serious…."
"I need someone to be there for him when I can't," the former Demon of the Covenant spoke solemnly.
Minutes passed in silence till Hellboy asked his sanest question to date, "Why me?"
"Cause your the first person I thought of," was 117's honest to god answer. Red smile at that. He and the Green Knight had been buds for decades – but John being the more reticent of the two rarely opened his mouth. Though when he did it usually reminded people why he was worth the effort. The man was loyal to a fault and when you had his friendship you had it for life.
"Thanks."
"Your welcome," John answered dryly to the now gratified devil. They stood there after that comfortably in silence for few minutes. 117 would occasional wave to Harry or Miia while scanning their surroundings for trouble. It was an old soldier's habit that thankfully never went away.
Now that Harry had a Godfather the Master Chief needed to find him a God-mum. His first choice might become his mother and John's second had unfortunately pasted away. Looking down at the fire starter from Kansas he smirked at the idea. He would have to talk to Liz about it first.
What remained was Harry's schooling. As much as the Spartan knew about magic he could never perform it. At least not without invoking the aid of a powerful deity. Something John almost never considered. Which left him with one question. Who? Or quite possibly what?
"I have a question," Red broke the silence as he began to sober up a little. "Does he like pancakes?"
John blinked at the casual inquiry, "You want to make hotcakes now? It's four in the afternoon."
"So?" John look at H.B. like he grew two head before smirking-sighing at the ridiculousness. Oh well he could grill those steaks marinating in the frig tomorrow.
"I'll go check if we have maple syrup."
"Nice…."
{One year later Dawning Oak Cemetery, Fairfield, Connecticut}
"All right kid repeat after me." Hellboy spoke calmly as he guided his favourite (only) nephew in the steps of their latest exploit. "Animam edere, animus corpu."
"I still don't think this is wise," Uncle Abraham began to voiced his concern.
"Lighten up Blue what's the worst that can happen?" the World Destroyer waved off Uncle Spoilsports.
"Many things…. Teaching a five year old second hand magic of demonic…origin…. Can be quite disastrous," Sapien stammered with worry.
"Animam edere, animus corpu!" said five year old exclaimed while holding an amulet over the rising head of a blinking corpse. Both "adults" stared on gobsmacked they didn't think he would get it in the first try! "Hi I'm Harry."
"Your cute but I don't do kids. Come back in about ten to fifteen years," the decaying remains of what was once a beautiful woman said before violently snapping her neck to go back to being dead. Harry and Abe just cringed with synchronised blanches while Hellboy broke down laughing. A few minutes later the still chuckling demon was helping his nephew crawl out of the grave
"You got it on the first try Kid! Your a natural," the wielder of the Right Hand of Doom said with pride in his eyes. Abe was still blinking in abhorrent shock over the event. "Common lets get out of here before we're caught."
"Okay," the five year old shrugged. The thrill of it all was already gone. Honestly reanimating a corpse was probably the least off the wall thing Uncle Red taught him how to do so far.
"And remember Little Buddy what is rule numero uno?!" Red brought his stone hand up with Harry in it to his shoulders before gesturing with said hand.
"Don't tell Mom and Dad!" the little wizard roguishly declared from his perch.
"And…?"
"Especially Auntie Sparky 'cause her short fuse be scary…."
"Very scary?" Red questioned with a devilish smirk.
"Super scary!" Harry yelled.
{Later at the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense}
"Hellboy where were you three?" Liz smelt mischief and it wasn't the dirt clinging to her Godson's clothes. John was out enjoying his honeymoon with Miia and they wouldn't be expected back till the end of the week. So it was up to her to keep the boys in line.
"Out," said the best man of the wedding curtly.
"Out doing WHAT?" she emphasised the last bit with a raised eyebrow that was now aflame.
"Stuff," it should be noted that Uncle Red is horrible at lying so he gives half truths instead. Unfortunately Harry is beginning to pick up this habit.
"What kind of STUFF?"
'Dead men walking,' many of the observing B.P.R.D. personnel thought as they began to clear out and put as much distance between themselves and the Pyrokinetic Hottie as possible.
"Guy stuff," Harry spoke up quickly with a winsome smile that nearly had Elizabeth sold if not for the slightly guilty sparkle in his emerald eyes.
"…ABE…," there was impending doom in her voice now as she directed it towards the easier of the three nuts to crack. Said nut was squirming nervously under her hellfire gaze.
"I huh? Well…uh…? Oh look rotten eggs!" Abraham Sapien pointed in one direction while he took off in the other. Both Harry and Red looked at each other wondering why they hadn't thought of it first.
"Cheese it Kid!" Red bellowed as he and Harry took off down the hall before splitting up at the fork that following the left corridor. Looking back H.B. actually paled a little to a light shade of pink when he realised Auntie Sherman was HOT on his heels. "Oh shit."
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DID RED! BUT I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU GET AWAY WITH CORRUPTING! MY! GODSON!" she takes her responsibilities VERY seriously. Good for Harrison. Bad for the Big Red Monkey.
"You mean OUR…. Godson," talking back…. Never a good idea. Cue the fireballs, "OH! CRAP…!"
{Septimus Residence, Nova Scotia, 1986}
"Are you okay?" Harry eventually said to the owner of a frilly pink two-piece swimsuit with powder blue stars. After all it is not everyday when a peculiar girl would just face-plant into his latest in a long series of intricate granular masterpieces (aka Sand Castles).
"I'm fine," the redhead muttered shakily as she rose from the depths of the yet to be filled moat. Her pride wounded more than anything else. Though why that was Harry was honestly not sure. Girls were strange like that sometimes.
"But you crashed," the former Potter deadpanned in a manner resembling his father while studying the broomstick that had magically fallen into his lap like it belonged there.
"I SAID I'M FINE!" a pair of cerulean glared witheringly into Harry's bemused emeralds.
"So…. Wher–"
"I'm Shirley the Glamorous! The Glamorous Shirley!" the little girl who was perhaps two or three years older than Septimus declared proudly with mercurial effect that raised even Harrison's eye brow.
"Eh?" was his intelligent reply while the reenergised girl was now standing haughtily on what remained of his castle in a victory pose. "Why–"
"I'm the fastest Witch alive…!" her proclamations continued for another minute or two as a very confused Harry was forced to listen to the Yankee from Myra, West Virginia's preachings. The reason he knew the odd girl was from Myra, West Virginia was because she told him along with numerous likes, dislikes, and her many…many…speed related aspirations and accomplishments/embellishments. Needless to say she was disturbingly the friendliest person Harry ever met. Perhaps even more so than his exuberant mother.
"Um…. Excuse me Miss Charlotte?" the boy who lived interrupted before he ended up with Shirley's social security and checking.
"Eh? What's up?" The southerner said as she decided to sit in the sand cross-legged with the emerald eyed boy wearing blue trunks and a white zip-up hoodie.
"Forgive me, but is it wise to be telling stranger all this?" the six year old asked astutely. "What I mean say Miss Charlotte is that you should be more careful."
"…Eh? Aren't we friends?" she asked innocently. Her cerulean eyes where now looking deeply into his own.
Harry for his part resisted the urge to blushed at the good-natured redhead while he contemplated how to gently scold the girl for her shortsightedness, "What's my name?"
"Err…William?" cue a sweat-drop.
"No," Harry deadpanned.
"Okay how about Arthur?" double Sweat-drop.
"No."
"But you look like an Arthur… Kurt then?" Triple sweat-drop.
"Try again," Septimus yawned.
"Jorge?" Even more sweat-drops.
"Nope."
"Mike?" An unprecedented number of sweat-drops and a mad blush that quickly overshadowed Shirley's cinnamon hair.
"Yea…NO." Harry teased with a little of his Uncle Red's flair.
"John?" He shook his head at the red-faced yankee's growing embarrassment. "Fred? Victor? Doug? Sam?"
"The first one of the last set was my Dad's," Glamorous Shirley was now staring at the ground despondently with a pout that Septimus privately thought was rather cute. For a cootie-carrier that is.
"Why don't I know your name?" She mopily muttered.
"Maybe because you never asked me Miss Charlotte," Harry supplied the answer with a mischievous whisper before offering his hand. "Harrison James Septimus."
The castle smasher eagerly accepted the Brit turned Canadian's hand with a still vermilion face, "Charlotte Elwood Yeager, call me Shirley."
"But Charlotte sounds so much lovelier," Harry said with a smile that was borderline roguish as he turned her hand over to kiss her delicate knuckles like his recently liberated Uncle Sirius instructed.
"Wha-wha… I-uh? Well…. F-Fine but only you can call me that. No one else," Yeager said with a blush to a still very clueless Harrison.
"Really?"
"Yup," the nine year old known as Shirley said with a smirk. "So…Harry why do you talk like James Bond?"
"Eh? Do I?" By the end of the summer Harrison had conscripted into viewing every Bond film the Yeager household had on VHS and unknowingly a love for stealth and espionage was forever born.
{One year later Unspecified Forrest in the Nova Scotia Wilderness}
"Why am I here also?" the worlds most famous demon hunting demon whined.
"Because we need to work on your aim," John said indifferently from the confines of his MJÖLNIR. Now normally he wouldn't take his power armour with him on a simple hunting trip. But after the last incident involving a pack foaming at the mouth ravenous Cyclops…? Well…117 felt it would be more prudent to be overtly prepared for the worst. While Miia would only green-lighted the outing after giving her "Little-Man" a new wrist watch that had both a tracking and a summoning rune inscribed on the back of the head. What it summoned only Miia knew but the devious glint in her sunset golden eyes made the SPARTAN-II wisely not ask.
"But why are we using bows?" Hellboy internally sulked, ignoring the insult all together. Hell even he admitted to being a crap shot. Still H.B. preferred loud and noisy things that went boom like his Samaritan Revolver or his beloved Big Baby.
"Helps you learn to walk lightly on your feet and it's good for patience," Harrison answered in his father's stead. This earned a snort from Hellboy while John smiled proudly at his son. Harry was developing into a borderline genius level intellect that Mr. and Mrs. Septimus enjoyed nurturing. He learned visually and through practice with almost an innate ease. Realising how much his growth was stunted by the Dursleys often disturbed and enraged John at times. "Wait…. I think I sense something."
"That you do née Potter," an enchanting voice spoke calmly despite the hard-light manipulations that were inches from transpiercing the giant Raven from a multiple of unpleasant angles. Hellboy and John had each dropped their bows and were now leveling their respective weapons of choice at the trespasser who had just appeared at their six, "Peace Spartan."
Septimus disregarding the offering as he kept his GEN4 CELAR (Compact-channel Electromagnetic Linear Accelerator Rifle) Kurtz trained on the woman's head while H.B. did the same with his Samaritan, "Morrígan… Goddess and Phantom Queen of the Aes-Sídhe (Fairies) what do we owe the pleasure."
"I come to repay a long over due debt," John blinked as the Raven warped into an alluring woman of Celtic decent with hair blacker than even the scant few raven feathers covering her modesty where her royal cobalt blue robes did not. Hellboy felt his jaw unhinge at the sight of the scantly dressed goddess while Harry wonder if she was an angel when a duo of raven wings wrapped around her covering what little modest there was left to salvage.
"Well would look at that…. Looks like I'm gonna need another beer," the Uncle Red said as he walked to a stump to set down the duffle strapped to his back and fish for the inebriating substance. John shook his head tiredly at the Red Monkey's antics as his son's emerald eyes began to study an equally curious pair of etherial vermilion.
"I appreciate the offer Lady Morrígan but I wish for no compensation. As Preventers we were merely performing our duty nothing more. The Aes-Sídhe called for aid and we gave it," John said as he re-holstered his rifle to his back while using his telekinesis to levitate the compound bow back into his grip. Morrígan may be in 117's debt but he refused to take his eyes off the fairy goddess in case of she attempted any manipulations.
"Your modest humility is delightful as always Spartan. As is your unyielding altruism and wary. Commendable…. But unnecessary," she sounded exasperated at the II's reservation for all things divine. "This is an offer I'm sure even you as a Father you will not pass up."
"…." Green tensed along with Red.
"I offer your son patronage," Morrígan smiled at the perplexed emotions she sensed coming form the two adults while Harry watched on in blissful innocence.
"Explain," the taciturn commando seemed to relax a little and Morrígan felt herself blush when she realised John was staring straight into her eyes from behind the faceless visage of MJÖLNIR. He was searching for any forms of deception mind you, but in Morrígan's mind it still counted as a personal win.
"All though I'm aware that your son has a shared lectures with Calima Finwë under the sagacious Álfar (Elf) Magus Lord Sindar and is receiving private tutelage under Maître Nicolas Flamel. There is still so much more for the boy has to learn."
"Such as the practices of the Aes-Sídhe (Fairies)?" John questioned. This was certainly unexpected.
"Correct."
"Wait, Wait, Wait…," the Righthand of Doom's pointer finger wagged inconsiderately close to the uncomfortable goddess's face. "Wait…a minute you want to offer Harry patronage?"
"Yes," Morrígan growled she never much cared for Anung Un Rama's disregard for her divinity. Son of Azzael or not he should know better.
"As in the kind that involves him gaining a portion of your power and authority?"
"Yes…."
"Freely?"
"Yes."
"Swear on the Styx," Red crossed his arms with expectancy while Green kept his weapon at ready. No way was Hellboy going to let his nephew anywhere near the "sexy-bird-lady" without any assurances. John was of a similar inclination except his involved nukes placed in strategic locations to keep the goddess of the Aes-Sídhe (Fairies) honest. But H.B.'s idea worked too the ex UNSC Naval Operator supposed.
"I… Morrígan the Phantom Queen of the Aes-Sídhe (Fairies) and the Goddess of Battle, Strife, and Sovereignty swear on the River Styx that I freely offer patronage to Harrison James Septimus née Harry James Potter without cost or penance."
"Eh, good enough for me. What about you Green?"
"It's Harry's decision if he so chooses to accept it."
"Umm…okay," shrugged the little wizard with emerald eyes.
{Three years later the Troll Market, New Jersey}
"Stay close kid these folks don't hold humans in high regard and you being a wizard certainly doesn't help," Hellboy said while keeping his free hand close to his Samaritan. "That goes double for you Black."
Said Black and Harry Potter's godfather who was wrongfully imprisoned gave Harrison Septimus's godfather a not so subtle forearm jerk while standing behind unknowing Harry. The rivalry of infantile prank, quips, and obscene gestures had ensued the moment Sirius Black realised he'd been unintentionally been replaced. Neither "adults" were willing to yield in their duties as godfather fueling the escalation of their private war. One that if it continued much longer John was going to resort to shooting them both.
"Got it," Harry spoke curtly as he continued to breath through his mouth. The aromas of the Troll Market were absurdly repugnant and he didn't want risk any of it permanently adhering to his nostrils. "Are you comfortable Miss Mata?"
"Very Master Harrison," Mata Dubh Harry's Aes-Sídhe familiar answered while cuddling into the crook of his neck to enjoy the refuge his sea-breeze cologne offered. In the years since Harry and the eldest daughter of Gille Dubh had been partnered together Mata found herself succumbing to uncharted affections spurned by the young wizard's generosity and warmth. The former Potter was Dubh's first and only student. A prodigious talent and devoted friend. Who begrudgingly became her Lord and Master after learning Morrígan's patronage required Mata's life servitude as his familiar.
Like his father Harry had an abhorrent disgust for slavery. Even right now it was taking every fiber of his being not to hex every slaver they passed into oblivion. His father John was in an even fouler mood as they made their way through the market. The Spartan-II's telepathic sweeps for danger forced him to listen to the dispirited surface thoughts of the many unwilling thralls. After their business was concluded John was going to organise a Preventer raid on this market and re-institute Conclave law on its inhabitants.
"And you Selene?" Harrison anxiously looked up to the vampire in the tight black leather garb of a Death Dealer walking next to him. He was well aware of the vampire's heighten sense of smell and often made a habit of bathing thoroughly and regularly when she visited. After all she was the closest thing Harry had to an elder sister. Selene was always solicitous about the welfare of young Septimus. So why wouldn't the wizard strive to be as equally considerate?
"I am well. Thank you Harry," the raven haired beauty said with a muted smile while subtly checking the combat webbing hidden beneath her black leather overcoat. Like always she was carrying a light armament consisting of pistols, explosives, and throwing knives which were her ideal for any close quarters fighting that may ensue. The tight leather jumpsuit and matching girdle she often wore on outings such as these were meant to distract her enemies into misconstruing her presence. Leaving little to imagine as it teased and drew the eye away from the quick death that was sure to follow. "Though Monsieur Flamel seems troubled."
"Master?" Harry looked over to the six hundred and sixty-one year old frenchmen with a concerned look fitting that of a dedicated disciple. Nicolas Flamel the only wizard outside of Sirius Black John-117 trusted with the secret of his son's identity seemed to be at a loss.
"It iz nothing Harrie. Just zee troublez of an old mind," despite still being in his physical prime Flamel bore a pair of dark calculative eyes that betrayed the inquisitiveness of Nicolas's true age. It was one of the few thing the famed Elixir of Life one his more recognisable of creations could never undo.
"Oh and that'd be what Frenchy?" Uncle Red said with his usual brazen.
"Damn Singe-Rouge," Flamel muttered to himself before acknowledging the brute. "Harrie's former tenant may occupy multiple vessels."
"Figures," John said with a sigh while bringing up the rear before looking at the Preventer Operator helping him rear guard. "Something wrong Frank?"
"I think that Cthulhu thing wearing the red brassiere just winked at me suggestively," the former CIA wet boy's fingers were grazing over his custom Para 1911 G.I. with expert caution.
"Relax Moses she's just hungry," Red chuckled.
"Oh that's reassuring…."
{Two years later the private Summer Beach Villa of Nicolas & Perenelle Flamel}
"Very good, very good. Now zee definition of déconstruction," patriarch and last male of the House of Flamel questioned his studious student.
"The use of energy to break down the physical structure of the identified material into a more malleable state to lessen the challenge reshaping it into a new physical form," the ten year old paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Then comes finally the reconstruction by continuing the flow of magic so as to reform the material into a new shape."
"Superb young Septimus, vell done. Now zen explain Equivalent Exchange and zee two segments of law that appliez itz," Nicolas Flamel continued to quiz his student with a passion for his practice that could inspire even the most dull-witted of wizards to take up his art.
"One cannot simply gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost that is the brief of the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Its core make up is the Law of Conservation of Mass and the Law of Natural Providence. The only believed violator of these laws is the power of the Philosopher's Stone."
"Oh? Define believed," Nicolas's eyes narrowed at the young man's analysis. He was curious if the boy figured out what his former disciple Albus Dumbledore could not.
"Yes, I believe that the idealistic power of the stone is an illusion to cover up the cost for creating such a powerful medium," Harry paused unsure if he should continue his evaluation. What he had come to eventually theorise was something so discrediting to his master's reputation that he refused to believe it himself.
Little Mata Dubh who was resting on Harry's shoulder frowned at her beloved master's hesitation. All the while Flamel had taken a seat along one of the patio benches with a despondent sigh, "It seems you figured it out."
"Why did you…."
"Create it?" Harry merely nodded. "Do you recall the name Egbert the Egregious in your studies?"
"He was a Dark Lord from the middle ages. He was also rumoured to be the creator of the bubonic plague"
"Zose were no rumourz Harrie. Zee Black Death vas his doing and because of him I vas forced to find a solution, a cure. Atz zee time I could never emagine zee cost itz would required to create zee stone. Butz compared to zee millions more thatz would have died if I did notzing…? A small price to pay en hindsightz for humanity."
"…," the young wizard said nothing. Unsure what to say next.
"I pray you never have to make such a decision Harrie," the Alchemist in training could only nod at that. His father often mention such difficult choices when he told tamed stories of the Human-Covenant War.
"Does it get easier?"
"No…." Nicolas lingered on that thought for a bit before clapping his hands and raising his voice to continue their exploration of the world of alchemy. "Now zen…enough of dis dispiriting discussion for one day. Letz us proceed with your lesson before my beloved Perenelle finishes zee preparations for our lunch."
Harry could only nod as he resisted the urge to follow the inviting scents permeating from the beach villa. It was the smell of French cuisine at its finest. Thanks to the centuries worth of acquired experience Perenelle had perfected her craft. The fact that her cookbook was still the top best culinary seller two centuries later since its publishing was also a strong indicator of the witch's talent.
The poor-lucky boy could already taste the onion soup and sautéed chicken paillards. Not to mention the decadent crêpes with sautéed Pears, aged gouda, and fresh thyme for dessert. No doubt another venture at spoiling the Boy Who Lived rotten like he was her own flesh and blood. If not for the fear of out living their descendants Nicolas and Perenelle would have had children centuries ago. Coincidentally Harry had become something of a surrogate grandson to them. Something the ageless Flamels always wanted.
Their midday meal eventually came with the shooing of Harrison from the books and a wand transmuted into a frying pan being directed threateningly in Nicolas's face. Harry unfortunately or fortunately depending how you look at it did not know enough french to recognise mischievous double meanings behind the Flamels comical banter. Nor was he old enough to understand the definition of flirting. What he did understand was that Mrs. Flamel was Mister's "Precious Little Bumblebee" and he was her "Naughty Old Dog." As for what a paddle, a rubber ball, beads, and whipped cream had in common young Septimus had not the faintest clue. Something about "punishment" though Harry could never knew for sure.
What he did know was Nicolas and Perenelle loved each other very much and in the centuries they spent together they were almost never apart for long. In fact attempting to separate the two was tantamount to suicide. The many ghosts of the fools who tried could always be summoned to attest to that.
{July 31, 1991}
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" they all cried in unison. Soon Harrison found himself being generously kissed on the cheek by a red-faced Charlotte Yeager. While a budding Catherine Nergal and Diána Arachnera cried out loud at the injustice. Just because she had those over grown mammary glands didn't mean they were out of the Race yet…. Both girls were speeding along into fine examples of their respective species.
Of course they never mentioned the "R" (Race) or "Q" (Quidditch) word around the new star Seeker of Beauxbatons. The only person that dared was Harry. Charlotte's racing rival and long time crush. Said crush was now leading by two victories. Bringing the grand total to 239 wins for Harry, 237 Victories for Shirley, and 49 begrudgingly accepted ties forced on them by their parents. If one was the F/A-18E/F Super Hornet then the other was the SR-71 Blackbird. Maneuverability versus speed. Give the Yank a track that had plenty of straightaways and she won hands down, but throw in a few tight turns and obstacles and all that speed turned into a handicap against Septimus's above average reflexes.
Naturally none of this stopped the whiz kid Seeker from falling for Harrison like a brick from orbit along with every other moderately sane girl present today. Excluding his little sister Kelly for obvious reasons and Calima Finwë who'd been crushing-dating Talbot since 84. Yes, much to Miia's and Liz's object horror and the personal delight of Hellboy and Sirius Harry had become quite the little ladykiller. Why else would a fourteen year-old girl who was already being spotted by the Fitchburg Finches and Stonewall Stormers consorting with the newly crowned eleven year old?
Hell even Selene and Harry's fairy familiar Mata were "somewhat" smitten with him. That is to say if they were ever honest with themselves. Both being reluctant towards the idea of earning the moniker, "Cougar." Though in all fairness when your born to such long lived species the term Cougar is hardly applicable now is it? Of course when July 31 of 1996 eventually comes around the big-sister gloves were coming off. Mata was now secretly perfecting the size altering magics she had been humouring for sometime (Mata is a little over 12.5 centimeters tall) while Selene had already begun picking out a shamelessly inviting négligées (mostly in black).
One way or another Harrison was going to become a REAL man when he turned sixteenth. Of course this is assuming they and their younger rivals stayed strong until the time came to spoil the former Potter rotten - and oh how wanted to be the one spoil him. A fair trade in their collective minds considering all the lovable things he's done for them over the years. Not mention the added benefits….
At the moment the only immediate dilemma affecting Harry's future was whether or not to attend L'Académie de Sorcellerie de Tue-loup (Wolfsbane Academy of Sorcery) hidden somewhere in the Laurentian Mountains or the Salem Institute for the Abnormally Gifted. Both were prestigious schools with reputable standings in the world. Compared to there muggle neighbors they were second scholastically to only a few trailblazers like Alexandria, Ecbatana, and Rome. Two of which had offered Septimus a four year scholarship while their North American counterparts proposed all seven. Albus Dumbledore's Hogwarts and rest of the UK had up until this point remained off of the aspiring wizard's radar much to John and Miia relief. Of course having a Short-eared Owl crashing through the kitchen window right when you start cutting the cake has a way of hampering that….
Harry blinked at the half dead avian now laying with its face planted in the once pristine red velvet then towards Shirley, then looked back towards the ruddy coloured owl again. Harrison repeating this process for a good few minutes before dawning look appeared on his face as he settle on a bemused Charlotte with a cheeky but winsome grin.
"Char he lands just like you."
"IDIOT!" Shirley yelled while blushing madly. Harry merely chuckled at her reaction before giving a playful wink of apology that left Yeager and the few other girls caught in his gaze simmering with blushes. Sometimes they wonder if Harrison realised what he was doing to them half the time.
John merely frowned at the display making a mental note to talk to his son later while Miia began to stare deathly daggers at Uncles Red and Black for corrupting her son. Said uncles were wisely making sure they were at least fifteen feet a way from the snake woman. For good reason too when Lamia breeds were concerned constrictors just happen to be the most physically developed. Quite coincidentally Mrs. Septimus just happens to be a constrictor. Which makes her pretty darn good at giving nice warm hugs (despite being poikilothermic). Or…crushing fully armoured full humvee like an empty beer can.
Needless say both Godfathers were on the verge or learning what true fear is. And what is true fear you may ask? True fear is any angry female with hyper developed maternal instincts and a kitchen utensil in hand of course.