FIC: 4 Things

[iesika]

I'm at work and have nothing to do (my boss has taken a day off without warning us and there are no patients today) so after tidying a bit, I sat down and actually wrote a short piece of fanfiction - the first, probably, in about three years.  I had originally intended for it to be a '5 things' fic, but I couldn't really think of a 5th thing. It is very gen, and probably tooth-destroying in it's saccharine-ness. Two of the ficlets have been living in my head since about book 3 (Father Christmas and the walk home, the latter being my favorite).

Title: Four Things That Happened to Harry Potter When He Was Six Years Old (At Least One of Which He Will Later Be Sure He Must Have Imagined)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: Gen, and very sappy at that.
Summary: See title

If you spot any grammatical errors, etc. I would appreciate you letting me know.

 

1.

When Harry Potter is six years old, his Aunt Petunia makes him come with her to the grocer’s. She does this a lot, but usually his cousin Dudley is there as well (today he is playing with a friend from school). When Dudley goes with her, he rides in the basket (that Harry pushes) and points out things he wants on the shelves, which Aunt Petunia always tells Harry to put into the basket, even if he can’t reach. Today, though, it is just she and Harry. Harry knows better than to ask her for any treats, so he just pushes the basket along in silence as she adds things to it.

When they get home, though, something wonderful happens. Aunt Petunia stops to talk to Mrs. Number Two over the fence while Harry is unloading the groceries from the car. Uncle Vernon is still at work, and Dudley has not yet returned from his outing. No one is watching Harry like a hawk while he puts the food away in the kitchen.

On his third trip in from the car, Harry pauses long enough to open the door of his cupboard and shove a loaf of pre-sliced white bread under his thin little blanket that doesn’t cover his toes. He then hurries to the kitchen and puts away everything else from the sack, before going back for the last bag of vegetables.

Aunt Petunia notices that the bread is gone and shouts at him for leaving it at the checkout. She makes him come with her back to the grocer’s, where he is told to apologize for forgetting to put the bread in the bag. The man behind the counter gives him a funny look and reminds him that he loaded up the sacks, not Harry. Aunt Petunia decides this means she’s been short-changed, and insists on receiving a free loaf of bread, which Harry thinks is finally supplied just to get rid of her. She storms through the doors back out to the street leaving Harry holding the loaf of soft white bread with both arms, just like he’s holding a baby. He apologizes to the grocer for causing trouble, and tells him he took the bread because Aunt Petunia didn’t let him have supper last night, and he was hungry.

The grocer pats him on the head and places a small orange in his hand. Harry hides it under his shirt and runs out to the car, where Aunt Petunia is illegally parked and shouting about it.

Harry feasts on soft white bread for a week. The orange, though, fresh and sweet, is the most delicious thing he has ever tasted.

 

2.

 

Harry thinks he has found the perfect place to hide from Dudley and his gang. He is in a corner of the schoolyard far from where the other children are playing, and there are thick bushes between him and his larger cousin. He sits down in the dirt and opens his lunch sack, which contains the crusts from three sandwiches that Aunt Petunia made for Dudley this morning, and an apple with a big spot on one side.

There is a cat in the bushes – a gray tabby with funny marks around its eyes. Harry thinks it may belong to batty old Mrs. Figg down the road, who has an awful lot of cats. It sits in the bushes and watches him eat, until he feels bad for it and gives it a thin sliver of ham that was stuck between two of the crusts. After that, it sits beside him and rubs its head against his arm.

When he pulls the apple out of his lunch sack, it is shiny and red, and the spot he remembers is nowhere to be found. He offers a bite to the cat, but the cat shakes its head ‘no’ just like a person, so Harry thinks cats must not like apples.

He is trying to think of a name to call the cat when his cousin finds him. He has two other boys with him - boys that have helped him catch Harry in the past. Harry jumps up and tries to run away, but to get back where the teacher can see him, he would have to pass very close to one of the boys.

Harry realizes very quickly that it was stupid of him to try and hide here, and knows he will never do it again. He is trapped against a chain-link fence with nowhere to go, and there are three much bigger boys in front of him cracking their knuckles. The bushes are too thick for anyone larger than a cat to squeeze through. The cat, he realizes, is standing behind him, between him and the fence, and all the hair on its body is raised, like a cartoon on Halloween. The bigger boys think this is funny, but all Harry can think is that the cat should run away because Dudley isn’t any nicer to animals than he is to smaller children.

When Dudley steps forward and tries to grab him, the cat jumps up, higher than he knew a cat could jump, over his shoulder and lands on Dudley’s back. It is hissing and biting and scratching and Harry is terrified that it will be hurt, but knows there is nothing he can do but run for the teacher, so he does. He manages to make it past the bigger boys only because they are distracted trying to get the cat off of Dudley without getting scratched, themselves.  

The cat escapes just a moment after Harry does, scrambling over the fence and leaving Dudley with torn clothes and scratches on his face, hands, and neck. There is a little half-moon shape missing from the lobe of his ear. Dudley sits down behind the bushes, but Harry can still hear him crying. Harry can’t help but feel triumphant as he runs back to where the teacher is standing and tries to look like he has been right behind her all along. 

 

3.

 

That winter, a girl in Harry’s class named Lucille Pinkerbottom tells them all that there is no such thing as Father Christmas, and that it is really parents who put their presents under the tree and fill their stockings every year. Dudley beats her up and tells her not to be stupid, but later decides this is wonderful, because it means he doesn’t even have to pretend to be good for the rest of the month.

Harry thinks this makes perfect sense, and wonders why he didn’t realize it before. Of course there is no Father Christmas. If there were, maybe he would get a present every once in a while (because no matter what his Aunt and Uncle say, he knows he is better behaved than Dudley, even his teacher says so). But if there is no Father Christmas, if it is only parents who put things in stockings and pile them under the tree, then no wonder Harry never gets anything, because Harry doesn’t have any parents. It doesn’t mean he is bad or awful, just that he is unlucky. Harry finds this to be a great relief.

He realizes, though, that if there is no Father Christmas, there are probably also no unicorns or giants or brownies or dragons or any of the magical things he has seen in Dudley’s book of fairy stories (the one that Aunt Petunia threw away when she found out Mrs. Polkiss had given it to him for this birthday). This is a bit of a disappointment, because Harry has always liked those sorts of stories. They are always full of little boys and girls with no parents, to whom extraordinary things happen. Sometimes, they find their parents in the end, which is the best kind of story, but Harry also likes the ones where they are whisked off by a godparent with magical powers, or grow up to be special and go live in a castle.  

So Harry is very surprised when, on Christmas Eve, after everyone has gone to bed, he hears a thump from the living room. He thinks it must be Uncle Vernon putting out more presents, so when he sneaks out of his cupboard and sees Father Christmas dusting soot off his long red cloak, he has to clap his hand over his mouth. It really is Father Christmas, with a long white beard and beautiful red velvet robes lined with snow-white fur. He is even wearing a tall red hat with fur on the trim, and Harry thinks that Lucille Pinkerbottom is a dirty, awful liar.

He must have made a sound when he cracked open the cupboard door, because Father Christmas is smiling at him with twinkling eyes and beckoning him out of his hiding place. Harry takes a deep breath and steps out into the living room, right to the center of the rug, right in front of Father Christmas. He peers up at that gently smiling face, holds up his hand and says “It’s very nice to meet you, Father Christmas.”

Father Christmas shakes his hand very solemnly, just as if Harry were a grownup, and bends down so that Harry can hear him whisper. “It is very nice to meet you, Harry Potter, at long last.”

“Why haven’t you ever brought me presents?” Harry asks him, before he can stop himself (because really, it was a rather rude question). “I really try very hard to be good. Am I just bad like my Aunt says? Or do you only bring presents to little kids with parents?”

“Oh no, my dear boy,” Father Christmas says, and now he looks terribly sad. “I’ve brought you a gift every year since you were a baby. I think, perhaps, that someone has been taking them away before you wake up.”

That would not surprise Harry in the least. “Thank you for bringing them, anyway.” He says, because he can think of nothing else to say.

Father Christmas bends down even lower, so that his beard touches the ground, and places his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “I’ve brought you a gift this year, do you want to see?” When Harry nods, he smiles and reaches into his beard. He pulls out a wood-and-crystal carousel and places it into Harry’s hands. The tiny, carved horses shake their heads and stamp their feet, and set off in a circle. They even, Harry realizes when he brings the toy up to his face, blink their tiny crystal eyes. Their spun-glass tails whisk away invisible flies, and they toss their heads proudly as they parade around and around. He is so struck by awe that he cannot speak, and he feels a lump at the back of his throat like he might start crying. When he finally catches his breath, he carefully sets the carousel down on the rug and throws his arms around Father Christmas’s neck.

“Thank you so much!” He whispers, “It’s the most wonderful – the best! Thank you so much! It’s magic!”

“That it is indeed,” Father Christmas says, and hugs him back. He lets Harry cry into his beard for a long time.

Once Harry manages to compose himself, he pulls back and stares hard into Father Christmas’s eyes. “So there really is magic?” He asks.

“Of course, my boy, of course.”

“My Aunt and Uncle say there isn’t, and I get in so much trouble if I even say the word.”

Father Christmas frowns. “Well, there is a reason I’m not bringing any gifts for the rest of your family, isn’t there?”

“Because they’re bad?” Harry asks, and at this thought he is delighted, because he has secretly suspected it all along.

“Because they don’t believe in magic, Harry. So don’t you ever stop believing.”

“I won’t! Oh, I won’t! Oh, thank you so much!” 

Father Christmas pats him on his head, then, and hands him his carousel. “Take good care of that, Harry.”

“I will! I will, sir, I promise.”

And as he stood there on the rug and watched, Father Christmas went right up the chimney just like the stories said.

The next day, though, when the commotion surrounding Dudley’s presents (all given to him by his parents, because of course the real Father Christmas wouldn’t bring anything to someone as awful as Dudley) dies down, Uncle Vernon manages to find the magic carousel when he drags Harry out of his cupboard to clean up the mess. He takes it out in the yard and smashes it with a hammer, and then throws away all the pieces.

All the pieces but one. When the snow melts, Harry finds a tiny green horse with a crystal mane in the mud beside the garden path. He cleans it off very carefully and hides it inside his pillowcase where no one will find it. Even though it doesn't move anymore, Harry still knows it is magic.

 

4.

 

Dudley has to go to the dentist because his teeth are rotting. Aunt Petunia blames it, somehow, on the water, and not on Dudley eating sweets all the time and never brushing his teeth before bed. Harry knows it is not the water, because if it were, he would have rotten teeth, too, and he most emphatically does not. He never gets any sweets.

Harry thinks there is a kind of justice in this, and very much enjoys his day at school once Aunt Petunia has come and taken Dudley away to his appointment (Dudley did not want to go, and screamed even after he was in the car with the door shut and no one could hear him anymore). He gets to eat his own lunch without having to hide, and even if the other children won’t play with him because he is strange, without Dudley to lead them, they leave him to color in peace.

 

At the end of the day, though, no one comes to fetch him. Harry thinks perhaps the dentist is taking a long time, since Dudley is probably making things difficult like he did when they had to have their vaccinations before school this fall. He tells his teacher this, and it makes her laugh. She does not laugh, though, most of an hour later, when Harry confesses that he thinks it more likely his Aunt has forgotten all about him. Maybe, he thinks but does not say, she will forget about him forever and he can just live at the school and never have to go home.

Harry is doing his homework, carefully tracing letters and numbers in his workbook, when a stranger walks up and speaks quietly to his teacher, so that he cannot hear. The stranger is a man, taller than his teacher but probably not taller than Aunt Petunia. He is very thin, and his clothes are old and worn, but neat. He has brown hair streaked with silver, and a kind face. After he speaks to Harry’s teacher, he crouches next to Harry and tells him to gather his things because he is going to take him home.

Harry has heard Aunt Petunia tell Dudley a thousand times not to talk to strangers, especially not ones that might be poor, because they will take him away. Harry puts his workbook away so fast that he tears a page, and leaps up to take the man’s hand.

The man doesn’t steal him (who would want to) but walks him home, slow so that Harry can keep up. His hand is big and warm, with long fingers and a palm so broad that Harry’s fingers only just reach across it. The back of his hand is much hairier than Uncle Vernon’s, and he even has hair on his knuckles. He asks Harry about his day, and wants to know how well Harry is doing in school. Harry tells him in halting awkward sentences that he likes school and that he thinks he does well as long as Dudley doesn’t do something awful to his homework. The man asks to see Harry’s workbook, and praises his penmanship. He taps it with a wooden stick like a teacher’s pointer (this is when Harry decides he must be a teacher, maybe for the older kids) and says something Harry can’t understand before handing the book back.

When they get to the gate of Number Four, the man crouches down again and runs his big, warm hands through Harry’s hair and down Harry’s sides. Then he does something Harry has never experienced before – he frames Harry’s face in his hands (his thumbs nearly meet at Harry’s chin), and kisses him on the top of his head, very solemnly, before he stands up and walks away without looking back.
 
When Aunt Petunia answers the door, she is furious with Harry for being so late.

He doesn’t see the stranger again after that. He never even told Harry his name.

END

 

Comments

Aww!

[moonypadlover.livejournal.com]

That was really sweet ^__^ I likes it!

[sabine91175.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow, that was absolutely beautiful, but so sad! Gah, I love it... ::adds to memories::

[thewatch.livejournal.com]

So sweet and poignantly sad. It broke my heart when his carousel was smashed, it's such a terrible thing to do to a child and Remus coming for him at school was so tender. I wish he could have taken Harry away and so does he.

Really lovely work.

[starryskies.livejournal.com]

Is this the only Harry Potter fic you've written? If so, you should really write more - this was terrific.

[iesika.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for the rec, by the way. I haven't finished anything else in the Harry Potter fandom, but I do have a work in progress called Fishes Die Not Of Cold, though it's very, very different from this piece.

I've made a chapter index here

[tetsubinatu.livejournal.com]

I love the last drabble. I can feel Harry's deep pleasure in the warm caring hands around his face. Beautiful.

[forest-rose.livejournal.com]

Oh wow - I just found this, via a rec from starryskies, and it's beautiful. The bit where Remus fetches him from school is just, oh, I have no words. Poor little Harry, I just want to scoop him up and take him home *sobs*

[iesika.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you liked it, and got the mood I was going for. I refuse to believe, in my heart of hearts, that Remus didn't at least check up on little Harry from time to time, before they met at Hogwarts.