A Mother's Love
A/N I know some reviewers are probably wondering why I haven't updated any favorited stories and some probably don't care :P I'm sorry for that everyone. I've been in the middle of updating Hidden Behind Blind Eyes if you'd like to look at that. I've also been dealing with health issues but I might try putting up a chapter of other stories on the go. Here's an attempt at something new. Let me know what you think please 😊 Rosebloom
Chapter 1: Lost and Alone
Miralene heard the thin, weak cries before she saw where they were coming from. You'd probably wonder why on Earth a banshee was walking along a perfectly normal Muggle street, and the story would shock you to be sure. She wasn't about to tell anyone though, because the lonely cries of a tiny child held all of her attention. With slow, measured steps, Miralene grew closer to the sound, then knelt in front of a swept doorstep to examine the bundle there.
Brushing snarled, tangled black hair out of her face, Miralene beheld the blue blankets and the tuft of black hair sticking out of them. "Not even a warming charm," she thought to herself, resting her chin in her hand. "The poor baby must be freezing to death." She picked up the bundle and slipped the child into her worn cloak close to her green skin, wrapping her left arm securely around him. A tiny ear sought a heartbeat, and found none, or so it would seem. The truth was, however, that Miralene's heart was too faint for any human ear to hear. It was the sad life of a banshee, and a tear slipped from one eye, the little stone sliding from her cheek to fall onto the doorstep. She hastily picked it up and buried it deep into the garden next to a prised rose bush. The leaves shriveled up and the roses turned black.
"Let's go, sweeting," Miralene whispered to the child in a soft, lilting voice. "I must thank Kasandra if I ever see her again. She's finally brought me a son."
Little Harry Potter stirred against the banshee's hold, trying to get his hands out to rub sleepy eyes. As Miralene walked down the street away from the plain, boring house, she adjusted Harry Potter on her hip. He finally got his hands free and rubbed at his eyes, yawning. He looked up into the green face of the woman holding him and whimpered.
"I'm sorry my little sparrow," cooed Miralene, twisting on the spot and apperating away. "I know I'm not the prettiest mother, but I can promise you kindness and love.
The banshee landed them inside the sitting room of an old, well taken care of Victorian home. She set him down on a soft sofa and unwrapped him from his blankets. With a flick of the wrist, Dumbledore's letter was sent to the fireplace where it burned a sickly yellow. Harry sat up, then wriggled, unhappy with his full nappy.
"As I thought," Miralene's Irish accented voice said, "The letter was cursed. It's a good thing I got a hold of you before Petunia did. Come here now, little one. I'll get you all cleaned up and into fresh pajamas."
Little Harry didn't talk at first, but his scared eyes were focused on Miralene's black ones, tracing her green sunken face and her dirty black hair. She carefully removed the dirty pajamas from him and placed him into a warm bath. She added a little cap of bubbles, and watched him play. He was listless at first, then woke up enough to scratch at his scar, which blead. At that point, she got out a fresh wash cloth and soap to clean him all up.
"Mistress," said a tiny voice in her ear. "Thou would do best to clean thyself up. A little child cannot be cared for by a grimy wench."
Miralene flinched, but she nodded to the tiny faerie resting on the towel rack. Her house was full of the little things, had been ever since Kasandra's last words to her. When she was busy cleaning Harry up but looking away at the faerie, he had reached up and grabbed at a snag of her greasy hair.
"Please let go of mummy's hair, sweeting," she said gently.
That had the desired affect, but then Harry began looking around frantically. He tried climbing out of the tub and Miralene had to hold him down gently so she could wash his hair. She had no sooner began pouring a cup of water over the shampoo than she was blasted backwards. She hit the wall almost hard enough to be knocked out. As it was, she took a few seconds to rise to her feet.
"Mumma," Harry screamed, floating in mid-air with tears flowing down his face, "Dada. Mumma! Dada! Mooey? Pa-foot?"
Every time Miralene tried to get close to Harry, comforting arms outstretched, his magic would blast her back again. The bathroom door opened silently and she was shoved to the side gently. Two other women walked into the room, one a blue eyed, blond haired bombshell, and the other an olive skinned, indigo eyed lady no less stunning. The vela moved forward, smiling at Harry and holding open her arms. The other woman began to cast cleaning charms on Miralene.
"I told you this was a bad idea, Mira," she said. "Just because you can't glamor yourself doesn't mean you can't clean up a bit."
"I'm sorry Hannette," Miralene said as the olive skinned woman ran a brush through her hair. "I've been like this so long… I was too excited to move him away from Dumbledore's influence."
"Well little Harry's all cleaned up now," said the vela, who's name was Alice. "I think it's best to put him to bed and talk to him in the morning. You gave him quite the fright Miralene, and he's all tuckered out from his accidental magic."
Miralene bowed her head and followed the 2 women out of the bathroom. Alice handed Miralene the newly dressed Harry, and he looked up at her with half closed eyes. One tiny hand prodded at her sunken cheek and he looked sorry for what he'd done.
"Think nothing of it, little sparrow," she said, placing him in his crib. "I know I'm nothing pretty to look at."
One of the tiny faeries perched on the headboard and smiled down at little Harry. As Miralene tucked a toy stag, wolf and dog next to him, the faerie blew a cloud of dust on Harry's face, ensuring good dreams. Miralene walked out of the room, carrying a baby monnetor with her. All around the world people were toasting to her new son, but no one cared here. Here, he was just a little boy being taken care of by his mother and his aunties.
A/N I know it's a bit strange. Let me know what you think and where you would like the story to go.