untitled story beginning
Albus could hear his father in the kitchen, humming, from all the way down the hall. He peeked in, and saw Dad stirring something on the stove that smelled wonderful. "What's for dinner?"
"Split-pea soup," Dad said, "with plenty of ham, and there's bread just rising -- hand me that, will you?" He waved vaguely towards the bowl sitting in a patch of sunlight, and Albus scooped it up (it was full of puffy dough) and set it down next to his Dad's shoulder.
"Not much of a wizard, Dad," he said, "when you can't even Accio a bowl of dough."
"Cheeky," Dad said. "Haven't got my wand on me. Cooking's too much like potions if you use a wand; never could stand potions."
"Hm." Albus was partly named after someone who, his parents assured him, had been tops at potions. "Not very Auror-like, going wandless. They'll have your badge, you know. Where's Mum?"
"Shed," Dad said, absently. "I think this needs more pepper."
"It'll be fine, Dad, your dinners always are, when they don't get burnt."
Dad snorted. "Run along and bother your mother, then."
"Split-pea soup," Dad said, "with plenty of ham, and there's bread just rising -- hand me that, will you?" He waved vaguely towards the bowl sitting in a patch of sunlight, and Albus scooped it up (it was full of puffy dough) and set it down next to his Dad's shoulder.
"Not much of a wizard, Dad," he said, "when you can't even Accio a bowl of dough."
"Cheeky," Dad said. "Haven't got my wand on me. Cooking's too much like potions if you use a wand; never could stand potions."
"Hm." Albus was partly named after someone who, his parents assured him, had been tops at potions. "Not very Auror-like, going wandless. They'll have your badge, you know. Where's Mum?"
"Shed," Dad said, absently. "I think this needs more pepper."
"It'll be fine, Dad, your dinners always are, when they don't get burnt."
Dad snorted. "Run along and bother your mother, then."