Ordinary Lives (snippet 2)
Title: Ordinary Lives (snippet 2)
Words: 1436
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The characters and settings herein do not belong to me. I'm just messing about for fun.
Summary: Harry overhears a conversation. Another dip into the AU in which Peter Pettigrew was brave.
Harry couldn’t sleep.
The day seemed to have gone on forever, and he knew he was tired, but he wasn’t sleepy. All he could do was stare at the ceiling, and try to make sense of everything that had changed in his world.
He was a wizard. So were his parents. There was a whole world of wizards out there.
Half of them wanted to kill him.
He couldn’t make sense of it. He thought he should be frightened, but he wasn’t. Things like this only happened in books.
He knew, in theory, that that wasn’t true. He saw the papers every day. He knew about the Knights of Walpurgis and what the papers called their campaign of terror. He’d read about the bombs and the biological warfare and the slaughter in the schools. He, like every child in Britain, knew what a green light in the sky meant.
But they weren’t just terrorists. They were wizards, using spells and potions, and they wanted to kill him.
He turned over, and his duvet tangled around his feet.
He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t even know any magic. What did they think he was going to do?
Kill Voldemort, according to his father.
“Harry?” Alice had said, shrill with disbelief. “What by the smell of his trainers or something?”
“Hey!” Harry had protested.
“Nobody knows,” Dad had said, smiling at her. Then he had explained about prophecies, and their desperate flight from the Wizarding world.
“The other option was to create a wizarding safehouse,” Mum had said, “but virtually all spells can be countered, and it would have been a death warrant for whoever kept our secret.”
Padfoot had whined at that.
“Here, we’re as safe as we can be,” Dad had said. “We never use magic. We have no contact with the wizarding world. No one knows where we are.”
“Is that why we moved house so much when we were little?” Harry had asked.
Mum had nodded.
He’d told them he wasn’t scared. Dad had roared with laughter, and ruffled his hair, saying, “Born Gryffindor, you.”
“Oh, honestly, James,” Mum had said. “We have more important things to worry about.”
“What’s Gryffindor?” Alice had demanded.
Now he wasn’t so sure of his courage. He got out of bed, and went to peep through the curtains. The sky was dark tonight, only clouds, and the orange reflections of the streetlights. Nothing green.
A girl in the year above had died last year. Her name had been Katie Evans, and she and her parents and her toddler brother had all been found in the morning, collapsed in the garden of their burning house as if they had merely fallen asleep mid-flight.
Mum had refused to let him go to the funeral, saying it was morbid.
Had that been the real reason? How many lies had they told him?
He was hungry. He hadn’t been able to finish his dinner, and he’d ended up giving most of his pudding to Padfoot. Mum had said, “You’ll get fat,” like she usually did, but it had been half-hearted.
Harry didn’t know why she made such a fuss. Padfoot usually ate the same as the rest of them, except when Aunt Petunia visited.
He slipped out of bed, and tiptoed down to the kitchen. The light was still on in the living room, and he could hear his parents’ voices through the door.
“It’s only his wand I’m worried about,” Mum said. “The rest we can probably put together ourselves or get through the school. But he has to have a good wand.”
“And even contacting the school is risky,” Dad said. “It’s a damn shame the Floo’s down. Any chance of that changing any time soon?”
“Unlikely,” a third voice said. “Remus seems to think everyone’s too afraid to risk it. Understandable, after what happened in Hogsmeade.”
Harry stopped dead. Who on earth? The voice was male, and terribly posh. He’d never heard it before in his life.
Was there another wizard here? Had a visitor crept in while he and Alice were asleep?
“Have you heard from him recently?” Mum asked. “We could do with an up to date appraisal of the situation.”
“No,” the stranger said shortly. “And I don’t know when I will. We don’t have a schedule for letters. Too risky, even with Muggle post.”
There was a short silence, and then Dad said, with what sounded like false cheer, “We’ll have to get him to Ollivanders, then. It is still Ollivander, right?”
“The younger,” the stranger replied, with a snort. “Ollivander senior, ah, disappeared in eighty-six.”
“I wonder if I’d recognise anything if we went back,” Dad said.
“We may have to go back,” Mum said, sounding frightened.
“Almost certainly,” the stranger said, more cheerfully. “Once Harry’s in that world, you lose all the benefit of pretending to be Muggles. I’d keep your cover until the kid’s on the train, then clear out.”
“I don’t know,” Mum said. “I know you’ve always disagreed with me on this, but we’ve got Alice to think about as well. I wanted them to have a normal childhood.”
“Let’s not have this argument again,” Dad said firmly. “Harry’s wand. Do you think we could arrange for him to see Ollivander out of hours?”
“Nah,” the stranger said. “You might as well advertise. Young Harry’s a fairly ordinary looking kid. Stick some sunglasses on him, and send him on his own. No one will even notice him.”
“He’s only little!” Mum exclaimed.
Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted by that, or worry about going off to buy a wand on his own. Did they mean a magic wand? Where on earth did you buy a magic wand?
The stranger chuckled. “You’ll send good old Padfoot with him, of course.”
“Good man,” Dad said. “We owe you so much.”
“Oh, it’s a dog’s life, this,” the stranger said over him. “Stuff it, Prongs.”
Curiosity overcame Harry. He had to know who was there. He hadn’t realised Mum and Dad knew anyone.
He knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” Mum said sharply, and he could hear the thud of footsteps across the room.
“It’s me. Harry.”
There was a silence, and then Mum opened the door. The window was open, letting in a breeze that stirred the curtains. Padfoot was flopped in front of the fireplace, panting. Dad was stretched out on the sofa.
Mum had her old polished hairstick in her hand, gripping it so tightly Harry could see her knuckles press against her skin.
“Is that a wand?” Harry blurted out.
“Yes,” Mum said. “What’s wrong?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said, looking around for the other man.
Mum wound her hair back up. “I’m not surprised. Do you want a glass of milk?”
“And I’m hungry.” He added casually, “I heard voices.”
“We had the radio on,” Dad said, tucking another piece of wood back up his sleeve. “You didn’t wake Alice up, did you?”
It had not been the radio. Harry looked at the open window. Had the stranger climbed out?
“Sit down, Harry,” Mum said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Harry dropped down beside Padfoot, who seemed to be doing his best to melt into the rug.
“Poor old boy,” Harry said. “Miserable weather to be a dog.”
Padfoot sighed, and slumped further.
“Drama queen,” Dad muttered.
“Dad,” Harry said, looking more at the rug than anything else. “Do I have to be a wizard?”
Dad sighed. “Do you remember when Dudley tried to eat all of Alice’s birthday cake?”
“And his teeth got stuck in it, and he had to get it cut out by the dentist?” Harry said, grinning.
“And when you ended up on the school roof?”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Or the day we went to the zoo? Mrs Jackson’s green hair? The flying fish at Bournemouth?”
“They were just accidents,” Harry said indignantly. “Weren’t they?”
“No such luck, mate,” Dad said, and Padfoot smirked.
“But I didn’t do anything,” Harry protested. “At least, I don’t think I did.”
“And that’s why you need to go to school. You’ll like Hogwarts, I promise. Best days of my life. Remind me to tell you how to steal stuff from the kitchens.”
“James,” Mum said warningly, coming back in. “You are not to set your son a bad example.”
“And Quidditch!” Dad said, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin, I wonder if the Cannons have won a match yet.”
“What’s Quidditch?” asked Harry, still dubious.
Mum rolled her eyes, and passed him a glass of milk and a sandwich. “Now you’ve done it.”
Words: 1436
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The characters and settings herein do not belong to me. I'm just messing about for fun.
Summary: Harry overhears a conversation. Another dip into the AU in which Peter Pettigrew was brave.
Harry couldn’t sleep.
The day seemed to have gone on forever, and he knew he was tired, but he wasn’t sleepy. All he could do was stare at the ceiling, and try to make sense of everything that had changed in his world.
He was a wizard. So were his parents. There was a whole world of wizards out there.
Half of them wanted to kill him.
He couldn’t make sense of it. He thought he should be frightened, but he wasn’t. Things like this only happened in books.
He knew, in theory, that that wasn’t true. He saw the papers every day. He knew about the Knights of Walpurgis and what the papers called their campaign of terror. He’d read about the bombs and the biological warfare and the slaughter in the schools. He, like every child in Britain, knew what a green light in the sky meant.
But they weren’t just terrorists. They were wizards, using spells and potions, and they wanted to kill him.
He turned over, and his duvet tangled around his feet.
He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t even know any magic. What did they think he was going to do?
Kill Voldemort, according to his father.
“Harry?” Alice had said, shrill with disbelief. “What by the smell of his trainers or something?”
“Hey!” Harry had protested.
“Nobody knows,” Dad had said, smiling at her. Then he had explained about prophecies, and their desperate flight from the Wizarding world.
“The other option was to create a wizarding safehouse,” Mum had said, “but virtually all spells can be countered, and it would have been a death warrant for whoever kept our secret.”
Padfoot had whined at that.
“Here, we’re as safe as we can be,” Dad had said. “We never use magic. We have no contact with the wizarding world. No one knows where we are.”
“Is that why we moved house so much when we were little?” Harry had asked.
Mum had nodded.
He’d told them he wasn’t scared. Dad had roared with laughter, and ruffled his hair, saying, “Born Gryffindor, you.”
“Oh, honestly, James,” Mum had said. “We have more important things to worry about.”
“What’s Gryffindor?” Alice had demanded.
Now he wasn’t so sure of his courage. He got out of bed, and went to peep through the curtains. The sky was dark tonight, only clouds, and the orange reflections of the streetlights. Nothing green.
A girl in the year above had died last year. Her name had been Katie Evans, and she and her parents and her toddler brother had all been found in the morning, collapsed in the garden of their burning house as if they had merely fallen asleep mid-flight.
Mum had refused to let him go to the funeral, saying it was morbid.
Had that been the real reason? How many lies had they told him?
He was hungry. He hadn’t been able to finish his dinner, and he’d ended up giving most of his pudding to Padfoot. Mum had said, “You’ll get fat,” like she usually did, but it had been half-hearted.
Harry didn’t know why she made such a fuss. Padfoot usually ate the same as the rest of them, except when Aunt Petunia visited.
He slipped out of bed, and tiptoed down to the kitchen. The light was still on in the living room, and he could hear his parents’ voices through the door.
“It’s only his wand I’m worried about,” Mum said. “The rest we can probably put together ourselves or get through the school. But he has to have a good wand.”
“And even contacting the school is risky,” Dad said. “It’s a damn shame the Floo’s down. Any chance of that changing any time soon?”
“Unlikely,” a third voice said. “Remus seems to think everyone’s too afraid to risk it. Understandable, after what happened in Hogsmeade.”
Harry stopped dead. Who on earth? The voice was male, and terribly posh. He’d never heard it before in his life.
Was there another wizard here? Had a visitor crept in while he and Alice were asleep?
“Have you heard from him recently?” Mum asked. “We could do with an up to date appraisal of the situation.”
“No,” the stranger said shortly. “And I don’t know when I will. We don’t have a schedule for letters. Too risky, even with Muggle post.”
There was a short silence, and then Dad said, with what sounded like false cheer, “We’ll have to get him to Ollivanders, then. It is still Ollivander, right?”
“The younger,” the stranger replied, with a snort. “Ollivander senior, ah, disappeared in eighty-six.”
“I wonder if I’d recognise anything if we went back,” Dad said.
“We may have to go back,” Mum said, sounding frightened.
“Almost certainly,” the stranger said, more cheerfully. “Once Harry’s in that world, you lose all the benefit of pretending to be Muggles. I’d keep your cover until the kid’s on the train, then clear out.”
“I don’t know,” Mum said. “I know you’ve always disagreed with me on this, but we’ve got Alice to think about as well. I wanted them to have a normal childhood.”
“Let’s not have this argument again,” Dad said firmly. “Harry’s wand. Do you think we could arrange for him to see Ollivander out of hours?”
“Nah,” the stranger said. “You might as well advertise. Young Harry’s a fairly ordinary looking kid. Stick some sunglasses on him, and send him on his own. No one will even notice him.”
“He’s only little!” Mum exclaimed.
Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted by that, or worry about going off to buy a wand on his own. Did they mean a magic wand? Where on earth did you buy a magic wand?
The stranger chuckled. “You’ll send good old Padfoot with him, of course.”
“Good man,” Dad said. “We owe you so much.”
“Oh, it’s a dog’s life, this,” the stranger said over him. “Stuff it, Prongs.”
Curiosity overcame Harry. He had to know who was there. He hadn’t realised Mum and Dad knew anyone.
He knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” Mum said sharply, and he could hear the thud of footsteps across the room.
“It’s me. Harry.”
There was a silence, and then Mum opened the door. The window was open, letting in a breeze that stirred the curtains. Padfoot was flopped in front of the fireplace, panting. Dad was stretched out on the sofa.
Mum had her old polished hairstick in her hand, gripping it so tightly Harry could see her knuckles press against her skin.
“Is that a wand?” Harry blurted out.
“Yes,” Mum said. “What’s wrong?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said, looking around for the other man.
Mum wound her hair back up. “I’m not surprised. Do you want a glass of milk?”
“And I’m hungry.” He added casually, “I heard voices.”
“We had the radio on,” Dad said, tucking another piece of wood back up his sleeve. “You didn’t wake Alice up, did you?”
It had not been the radio. Harry looked at the open window. Had the stranger climbed out?
“Sit down, Harry,” Mum said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Harry dropped down beside Padfoot, who seemed to be doing his best to melt into the rug.
“Poor old boy,” Harry said. “Miserable weather to be a dog.”
Padfoot sighed, and slumped further.
“Drama queen,” Dad muttered.
“Dad,” Harry said, looking more at the rug than anything else. “Do I have to be a wizard?”
Dad sighed. “Do you remember when Dudley tried to eat all of Alice’s birthday cake?”
“And his teeth got stuck in it, and he had to get it cut out by the dentist?” Harry said, grinning.
“And when you ended up on the school roof?”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Or the day we went to the zoo? Mrs Jackson’s green hair? The flying fish at Bournemouth?”
“They were just accidents,” Harry said indignantly. “Weren’t they?”
“No such luck, mate,” Dad said, and Padfoot smirked.
“But I didn’t do anything,” Harry protested. “At least, I don’t think I did.”
“And that’s why you need to go to school. You’ll like Hogwarts, I promise. Best days of my life. Remind me to tell you how to steal stuff from the kitchens.”
“James,” Mum said warningly, coming back in. “You are not to set your son a bad example.”
“And Quidditch!” Dad said, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin, I wonder if the Cannons have won a match yet.”
“What’s Quidditch?” asked Harry, still dubious.
Mum rolled her eyes, and passed him a glass of milk and a sandwich. “Now you’ve done it.”