Fic: In My Mind, This Isn’t It for The springtime_gen Community
Title: In My Mind, This Isn’t It
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: The springtime_gen Community
Character(s): Harry, Hermione, Ron, Hagrid + cameos by Ginny, other canon characters
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,495
Warnings (if any): None
Summary: Harry always dreamed of the perfect life for his children. Sometimes, life doesn’t give you what you want.
Author's Notes: I had a lot of trouble writing this, for some reason, and it’s not quite what the recipient asked for, but I hope you enjoy it! Based on the prompts of Hargid and/or Trio fic and a slightly tweaked version of this: One of Harry and Ginny's (technically pure-blood) children grows up to be a blood status bigot/fanatic
Betas: Huge thanks to my beta, Summer, who did this on amazingly short notice! All mistakes that remain (and definitely all American-isms that slip in) are completely my fault.
“It’s not fair.” Harry looked at his two best friends and sighed dejectedly. He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping. He felt helpless, defeated.
Hermione patted him on the arm. “I know,” she said. “It’s not. But it’s not the end of the world.”
“And you don’t even know for sure yet,” Ron added.
Harry looked up at them, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You have no idea what it’s like,” he said, his voice rising a little. “How hard it will be for her. How different her life is going to be.”
“Different, yes,” Hermione said. “But it doesn’t have to be bad! Not if you don’t let it.”
Harry scoffed.
“It’s not my choice,” he muttered. He pounded a fist into his other hand. “It’s just not fair. Why does my little girl have to be a squib?”
•••
They knew she was different from the day she was born.
“Maybe it’s because she’s a girl?” Ginny had said hopefully, a couple of months after their third child had made her screaming entrance into the world. She was a happy baby that was for sure. She babbled and swatted her little hands at everything she saw. Her big eyes were bright and inquisitive. Her brothers loved her, spent hours playing with her. And she smiled her happy giggly baby smile back at them.
She was like any other baby - sweet, happy, adorable - except she wasn’t like any other wizard baby.
When she played, nothing moved or danced. Toys didn’t rock toward her. When she reached for things, nothing tilted in her direction. She didn’t accidentally knock things off tables just by looking at them, or make diapers whoosh through the air when she didn’t want them on.
It was so different from her brothers, who had made the lights twirl around their heads and stuffed animals come to life.
With her, nothing happened.
But they kept waiting and waiting and hoping. It was going to be hard enough to be the children of Harry Potter. He didn’t want to add this burden to his daughter as well.
The judgments, the whispering, the gossip. He didn’t want that for her, for any of them.
But by the time her third birthday rolled around and there was no evidence to prove otherwise, Harry and Ginny were pretty sure the lack of magic had nothing to do with her being a girl.
•••
“You don’t know for sure.” Two hours later and Ron was still insisting on this fact. Hermione nudged him in the side as she turned to Harry.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, for about the one hundredth time. “She’s still your daughter. You still love her.”
“Yes,” Harry almost snapped. “But she’s different. Try telling her why she won’t get to go to Hogwarts! Or ride a broom! Or ever learn to Apparate. Or why the other kids treat her differently and laugh at her! Tell her why wizard-kind will look down on her, just because of who she is!”
“They won’t if you don’t let them!” Hermione insisted.
Harry almost glared at her. “Do you really think it’s that easy?” he practically shouted. “It’s not as simple as that, and you bloody well know it!”
He got to his feet, fighting back an urge to kick something or hit something or blow something up with his wand.
He knew he shouldn’t be angry with his friends. It’s not like they could do anything to fix it or change it, it’s not like it was remotely their fault, but he felt like being angry with the world.
It just was not fair.
His whole life had not been fair, and he could accept that. It made him who he was. But he had hoped things would be better for his children.
When he calmed down enough to sit back down at the table, Hermione was looking at him curiously.
“I think there is someone you should talk to,” was all she said.
•••
A few days later, Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves Apparating to a familiar sight. It looked a little different than they used to know it - some new paint, new buildings, all to hide the damage of a war. But the shops, they were the same - Zonko’s, Honeydukes, Gladrags, Madam Puddifoot’s.
They entered The Three Broomsticks, and the first hint of Butterbeer made Harry smile. The same warm and cozy atmosphere. The same mirror hanging above the bar. It was like they were 13 years old and seeing it all for the first time.
They slid into an open booth and took a sip of the Butterbeer Madam Rosmerta brought over, her eyes lighting up when she saw them. Hugging her, catching up with her - it was almost enough to make Harry forget why they were here.
Almost, but not quite.
And soon enough, heavy footsteps sounded on the floor behind them. Before Harry could even turn, a booming voice filled the air.
“’Ello, Harry!”
Harry practically leapt out of his seat and into Hagrid’s open arms. Hagrid’s hug was so strong, he practically lifted Harry off the ground.
Hagrid was beaming. He had gotten older. They all had. Streaks of gray lined his beard, and his face had a few more wrinkles than it used to. But his eyes were full of light and he was all smiles today.
He slid into the booth beside Harry, almost squishing Harry into the corner.
“I’ve missed yeh kids so much!” Hagrid exclaimed, pulling out a tissue to dab at his eyes.
“We’re not kids anymore, Hagrid,” Hermione said, but she was smiling too.
“Yeh will al’ays be kids to me,” he said, still dabbing at his eyes.
Ron laughed, and then asked for the latest Hogwarts gossip.
“Ya know I’m not supposed to tell yeh that!” Hagrid admonished, but he told them anyway.
Hermione and Ron laughed at Hagrid’s stories, filled Hagrid in on some gossip of their own, but Harry could barely pay attention. He was just waiting for the conversation to turn to what he knew was coming.
And come it did.
“Ya know, I ‘an’t do magic real well, either, ‘Arry,” Hagrid said gruffly, patting him a bit too hard on the shoulder.
Harry forced a grin. “I know,” he said, “but …”
“But eh’s different?” Hagrid finished. “Yeh think I haven’t faced a lot o’ people who don’t like me? Yeh think it’s been easy not being able t’ do magic so well? Yeh think I don’t know what it’s like to ‘ave people not like me ‘cause o’ who I am? Do yeh?”
“No.” Harry shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m not saying that.”
“Yeh still love me, righ’?” Hagrid interrupted.
“What? Of course.”
“And yeh still love yer baby?”
“Of course! I never said …”
“Then you teach yer baby that she’s nothing to be ashamed o’. If she’s not ashamed, then no one can make ‘er feel bad.”
Harry sighed. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”
Hagrid nodded. “It’s ne’er that simple,” he said. “But yeh baby, she don’ know that, right? So yeh tell her how special she is. Yeh believe it.”
Hagrid shrugged, like it was the easiest solution in the world. “Yeh and Ginny, yeh just gotta make ‘er believe it too. People ‘ill do what they want. But yeh don’t got to let them dictate yer life.”
With that, Hagrid drained his Butterbeer in one gigantic swallow and cheerfully signaled Madam Rosmerta over for another.
Harry took a sip of his own Butterbeer, once again barely paying attention to the chatter that was starting back up between Hermione, Ron and Hagrid. All he could think about was his daughter, the life he had wanted her to have and the life she was going to have.
•••
They Apparated back to Harry’s place. Ginny invited Ron and Hermione to stay for supper. Harry watched his friends talk to his wife, play with his little girl. He barely said a word, and no one really asked him to say more.
That night, both Hermione and Ron hugged him goodbye and studied him carefully.
“I know this is hard,” Hermione started, but this time Harry interrupted her.
“But you were right,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be bad. It’s not going to be easy. But I’m not going to let it be bad. I survived Voldemort. This is nothing, right?”
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione almost squealed. She threw her arms around his neck again. “I’m so proud of you!”
He watched them vanish into the night sky. His children and wife were inside, but Harry took a moment to study the spot where his two best friends had disappeared.
He wasn’t sure he entirely believed what he had said, but he would get there. One day. He would get there.
He had to. His daughter was depending on him. And he was not going to let her down.
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: The springtime_gen Community
Character(s): Harry, Hermione, Ron, Hagrid + cameos by Ginny, other canon characters
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,495
Warnings (if any): None
Summary: Harry always dreamed of the perfect life for his children. Sometimes, life doesn’t give you what you want.
Author's Notes: I had a lot of trouble writing this, for some reason, and it’s not quite what the recipient asked for, but I hope you enjoy it! Based on the prompts of Hargid and/or Trio fic and a slightly tweaked version of this: One of Harry and Ginny's (technically pure-blood) children grows up to be a blood status bigot/fanatic
Betas: Huge thanks to my beta, Summer, who did this on amazingly short notice! All mistakes that remain (and definitely all American-isms that slip in) are completely my fault.
“It’s not fair.” Harry looked at his two best friends and sighed dejectedly. He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping. He felt helpless, defeated.
Hermione patted him on the arm. “I know,” she said. “It’s not. But it’s not the end of the world.”
“And you don’t even know for sure yet,” Ron added.
Harry looked up at them, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You have no idea what it’s like,” he said, his voice rising a little. “How hard it will be for her. How different her life is going to be.”
“Different, yes,” Hermione said. “But it doesn’t have to be bad! Not if you don’t let it.”
Harry scoffed.
“It’s not my choice,” he muttered. He pounded a fist into his other hand. “It’s just not fair. Why does my little girl have to be a squib?”
•••
They knew she was different from the day she was born.
“Maybe it’s because she’s a girl?” Ginny had said hopefully, a couple of months after their third child had made her screaming entrance into the world. She was a happy baby that was for sure. She babbled and swatted her little hands at everything she saw. Her big eyes were bright and inquisitive. Her brothers loved her, spent hours playing with her. And she smiled her happy giggly baby smile back at them.
She was like any other baby - sweet, happy, adorable - except she wasn’t like any other wizard baby.
When she played, nothing moved or danced. Toys didn’t rock toward her. When she reached for things, nothing tilted in her direction. She didn’t accidentally knock things off tables just by looking at them, or make diapers whoosh through the air when she didn’t want them on.
It was so different from her brothers, who had made the lights twirl around their heads and stuffed animals come to life.
With her, nothing happened.
But they kept waiting and waiting and hoping. It was going to be hard enough to be the children of Harry Potter. He didn’t want to add this burden to his daughter as well.
The judgments, the whispering, the gossip. He didn’t want that for her, for any of them.
But by the time her third birthday rolled around and there was no evidence to prove otherwise, Harry and Ginny were pretty sure the lack of magic had nothing to do with her being a girl.
•••
“You don’t know for sure.” Two hours later and Ron was still insisting on this fact. Hermione nudged him in the side as she turned to Harry.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, for about the one hundredth time. “She’s still your daughter. You still love her.”
“Yes,” Harry almost snapped. “But she’s different. Try telling her why she won’t get to go to Hogwarts! Or ride a broom! Or ever learn to Apparate. Or why the other kids treat her differently and laugh at her! Tell her why wizard-kind will look down on her, just because of who she is!”
“They won’t if you don’t let them!” Hermione insisted.
Harry almost glared at her. “Do you really think it’s that easy?” he practically shouted. “It’s not as simple as that, and you bloody well know it!”
He got to his feet, fighting back an urge to kick something or hit something or blow something up with his wand.
He knew he shouldn’t be angry with his friends. It’s not like they could do anything to fix it or change it, it’s not like it was remotely their fault, but he felt like being angry with the world.
It just was not fair.
His whole life had not been fair, and he could accept that. It made him who he was. But he had hoped things would be better for his children.
When he calmed down enough to sit back down at the table, Hermione was looking at him curiously.
“I think there is someone you should talk to,” was all she said.
•••
A few days later, Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves Apparating to a familiar sight. It looked a little different than they used to know it - some new paint, new buildings, all to hide the damage of a war. But the shops, they were the same - Zonko’s, Honeydukes, Gladrags, Madam Puddifoot’s.
They entered The Three Broomsticks, and the first hint of Butterbeer made Harry smile. The same warm and cozy atmosphere. The same mirror hanging above the bar. It was like they were 13 years old and seeing it all for the first time.
They slid into an open booth and took a sip of the Butterbeer Madam Rosmerta brought over, her eyes lighting up when she saw them. Hugging her, catching up with her - it was almost enough to make Harry forget why they were here.
Almost, but not quite.
And soon enough, heavy footsteps sounded on the floor behind them. Before Harry could even turn, a booming voice filled the air.
“’Ello, Harry!”
Harry practically leapt out of his seat and into Hagrid’s open arms. Hagrid’s hug was so strong, he practically lifted Harry off the ground.
Hagrid was beaming. He had gotten older. They all had. Streaks of gray lined his beard, and his face had a few more wrinkles than it used to. But his eyes were full of light and he was all smiles today.
He slid into the booth beside Harry, almost squishing Harry into the corner.
“I’ve missed yeh kids so much!” Hagrid exclaimed, pulling out a tissue to dab at his eyes.
“We’re not kids anymore, Hagrid,” Hermione said, but she was smiling too.
“Yeh will al’ays be kids to me,” he said, still dabbing at his eyes.
Ron laughed, and then asked for the latest Hogwarts gossip.
“Ya know I’m not supposed to tell yeh that!” Hagrid admonished, but he told them anyway.
Hermione and Ron laughed at Hagrid’s stories, filled Hagrid in on some gossip of their own, but Harry could barely pay attention. He was just waiting for the conversation to turn to what he knew was coming.
And come it did.
“Ya know, I ‘an’t do magic real well, either, ‘Arry,” Hagrid said gruffly, patting him a bit too hard on the shoulder.
Harry forced a grin. “I know,” he said, “but …”
“But eh’s different?” Hagrid finished. “Yeh think I haven’t faced a lot o’ people who don’t like me? Yeh think it’s been easy not being able t’ do magic so well? Yeh think I don’t know what it’s like to ‘ave people not like me ‘cause o’ who I am? Do yeh?”
“No.” Harry shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m not saying that.”
“Yeh still love me, righ’?” Hagrid interrupted.
“What? Of course.”
“And yeh still love yer baby?”
“Of course! I never said …”
“Then you teach yer baby that she’s nothing to be ashamed o’. If she’s not ashamed, then no one can make ‘er feel bad.”
Harry sighed. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”
Hagrid nodded. “It’s ne’er that simple,” he said. “But yeh baby, she don’ know that, right? So yeh tell her how special she is. Yeh believe it.”
Hagrid shrugged, like it was the easiest solution in the world. “Yeh and Ginny, yeh just gotta make ‘er believe it too. People ‘ill do what they want. But yeh don’t got to let them dictate yer life.”
With that, Hagrid drained his Butterbeer in one gigantic swallow and cheerfully signaled Madam Rosmerta over for another.
Harry took a sip of his own Butterbeer, once again barely paying attention to the chatter that was starting back up between Hermione, Ron and Hagrid. All he could think about was his daughter, the life he had wanted her to have and the life she was going to have.
•••
They Apparated back to Harry’s place. Ginny invited Ron and Hermione to stay for supper. Harry watched his friends talk to his wife, play with his little girl. He barely said a word, and no one really asked him to say more.
That night, both Hermione and Ron hugged him goodbye and studied him carefully.
“I know this is hard,” Hermione started, but this time Harry interrupted her.
“But you were right,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be bad. It’s not going to be easy. But I’m not going to let it be bad. I survived Voldemort. This is nothing, right?”
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione almost squealed. She threw her arms around his neck again. “I’m so proud of you!”
He watched them vanish into the night sky. His children and wife were inside, but Harry took a moment to study the spot where his two best friends had disappeared.
He wasn’t sure he entirely believed what he had said, but he would get there. One day. He would get there.
He had to. His daughter was depending on him. And he was not going to let her down.