Chapter Text
Going to sleep one day, and waking up the other crawling out of your mother was certainly an odd experience. I remember those children claiming to remember their birth, and I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t recall mine. Lots of blood, crying, being sticky and weak. Not much control over my limbs either. Then again, being placed for the first time in my mother’s arms… her adoring face, already so fond. Babbling at her, and holding her finger as tightly as I can…
I think I can deal, if you know what I mean. There are worse things to keep memory of.
For the first few days, I stayed in this hospital with her. A man, who I believe is my father, has been staying for hours on end until the nurses kick him out. He talks to me, but it’s difficult to recognize his words. Often, I just let them float over me, gesture happily at them. My parents. It takes a while for me to realize what has happened. By then, I’ve already started wearing a new name. Harry. They bestowed it to me so lovingly, and for once, I’m loath to change it.
My old life is gone, in the blink of an eye. I became a new person, with a new family. Except I can recall things I shouldn’t, from a life that has passed. Maybe it’s the same for every baby; maybe I’ll forget soon. I’d hate for it to happen, but there is nothing with less power than a newborn.
As my parents left the hospital with me in tow, I began to realize that may not be the truth. I’d expected to be taken to some car (or another method of transport, I wasn’t quite sure of the era then) when I felt a tug at my navel, before I was violently shoved through time and space to some lovely cottage- that I promptly began wreaking havoc on. I had a fit so powerful as to break a couple windows. I almost felt embarrassed. But they could’ve warned me!
My father, after assuring everyone’s safety, began laughing loudly. My mother scolded him, but she then shot me a fond look. I love her so much. My father kissed my head, and said, “He’ll be a strong wizard, one day.”
I babbled at him joyfully in answer, but I was deep in thought. I accidentally threw a magical fit, after we teleported. After. We. Teleported. One of my parents waved a stick, and the windows were fixed. We entered what must be home, and I gaped in wonder. My mother chuckled at my expression, resettling me in her arms so I may get a better view. A broom was brushing the floor in the kitchen, which held no electronics, but did hold a stove that had no way of functioning (but it would, I’m certain it would). The pictures moved, and I doubted it was because of high technological advances. Too much like paper. This place hummed, no, thrummed with energy. Magic, I would assume.
I was put to bed before I could observe any longer, but the nursery was much more obviously magical than the rest of the house. The night-sky was painted on the ceiling of my room, and when the blinds were shut they glowed like stars. A lovely night-light for a child scared of the dark. Above my baby-bed rested a floating set (no strings) of a deer, a dog, a wolf and a rat running in circles. At times, they would come down and nuzzle me, or lick my face. I would always giggle then, and play with them.
I didn’t really like the rat one, but I tolerated it.
There was something I was forgetting, just at the edge of my memory. Resting on the tip of my tongue, taunting me. I racked through my brain to find it, but sleep found me first. I slept. For a long time, a full night even. My parents were worried, I could tell. Some sort of medical person looked me over, also using a stick, before declaring I was a perfectly healthy baby. They just had to look over me more carefully, make sure I breathed. I was probably just fine. Worry creased their faces, but they let it go.
Days passed, my father played with me, brought me toys and read to me. My mother fed me, cared for me and sang me to sleep. An old man with twinkling eyes came by, along with a short stubby man and another tall one with long curly hair.
I instantly fell in love with the tall one, my godfather. Me and him, it was quite the bond. He was mischievous, and encouraged me to be more daring. In his opinion, I wasn’t giving my parents enough trouble. I was too good a baby, so he taught me how to be more difficult. I found him hilarious.
My mother? Not so much. Our first prank together was met with scorn. I, a completely innocent baby, slowly pointed to my godfather with big eyes. I wasn’t going to get caught for my first prank. He understood, and praised me for my good instincts. I babbled extra happily, just for him.
I still loved my parents a lot lot, but he wormed his way into getting my love too.
Life was simple. Happy, filled with joy and those fluffy feelings. I played with toys, pleased those I loved, ignored those I didn’t. Months passed, I grew. I crawled, then I stumbled around. I said my first word: hello. Then mama, dada, paddy and no. Followed by my first sentence, I wuv you. Still working on the syllables there, but they got the message. I made sure to make heart shapes with it, they cooed over me. I accepted it. In their shoes, I also would coo uncontrollably over cute things. Being cute made people more fond of you at certain ages, I always played into those. I liked being appreciated, even for something as silly as that.
Life, however, wasn’t content with idyllic.
I’d forgotten my initial discomfort. That little tid-bit that was nagging me- it came back full force on one halloween night. My father danced with my mother, a song playing on the radio. They laughed, smiled. Eyes crinkled with happiness. They were beautiful. They deserved so much more . Thunder at the door, the joy slipped, gone. My mother took me, climbed the stairs, my father at the door. I looked over her shoulder, the door slammed open.
My father fell.
I cried, my mother ran.
We entered my room. Closed the door. I struggled against her hold. “Dada, d-dada-” I babbled, “I wuv you dada” I threw over her shoulder. My mother shook, raw with emotion. “I wuv you mama,” I told her.
“I love you too, Harry.” she answered shakily.
The stars of my ceiling didn’t glow, the moonlight entered through the window. Time froze as a monster climbed the stairs. Thump, thump, thump. My heart, his steps? I looked at my mother. I remembered. I remembered . I stopped the tears flowing down my face. I looked at her. I smiled, I wasn’t happy. But I smiled, for her. “I love you!” I repeated, beaming. “I d-did it wight!” I added.
She laughed wetly, “you did, you did.” I wiped her tears clumsily with my small hand, Lily Potter looked down fondly at me, one last time.
The door slammed open, she covered me with her body. She screamed at the man, standing over my crib, begging for my life. She fell, too. My mother fell. Her green eyes looked at me, open. Lacking the inner life they always had. I raised my own eyes, the exact ones that glared at the man just a second ago. His red eyes met mine. My magic trashed, the objects began floating and launched themselves around the room. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to suffer .
“ Tom Riddle ,” I hissed, the sheer fury building up in my body misplaced in my small toddler voice.
He laughed at me, a sound so twisted in its definition and origin. A monster, monster, monster. The ceiling did not glow anymore. I was afraid of the dark. I was just a child.
“Avada kedavra,” he uttered, a green light. A scream. Mine, his, who knew? Dust, shadow, blood dripping for the first time of the night. Then, I was alone.
I sobbed. For the first time in this life I sobbed and wailed like a baby. Grief overtook me, and the windows exploded. My magic ravaged my home, because I refused for anyone else to ever enter it. I wanted to bury myself alive, in a grave with my parents.
I fell asleep like that. Too many feelings for my body to handle. I woke up to someone else’s grief. A dark man, hugging my mother’s body. I stood in my crib. I watched him. I felt numb. “Mama…” I mumbled quietly. He turned, his eyes widening as if remembering I was there. Probably hadn’t noticed me, I was a quiet baby. I sat down, and made grabby hands. He hesitated. Eventually, he stood up, took me out of my crib and put me beside my mother. Then, he left.
I crawled onto her chest and curled up there. She was cold. I held one of her fingers tightly, and dozed off again.
My godfather found me, eventually. He’d seen James Potter’s body first, before seeing my mother’s and subsequently finding me. For a second, he let out a terrible wail over us. Taking me in his arms, I woke up squirming. He calmed immediately, looking over me, casting spell after spell. The blood washed away, he whispered at me. I held his hair, “Don’t weave me.” I said, my lips wobbling against my will.
He kissed my forehead, “No…no Harry. I’m here.”
“I wuv you,” I told him sadly. I knew he would. It wasn’t his fault. “I will always wuv you.” I added.
“Me too pup, me too.” he rocked me back and forth in his arms, covering my eyes as we passed my father’s cold body.
“I saw,” I said quietly. “Green.”
“No need to see again,” he said shakily. “James wouldn’t want you to see him like that.”
I nodded into his chest, clinging to his shirt. I trembled slightly, fighting back another round of tears. “Be safe,” I tell him.
Perplexed, he answered. “I will?”
“I’ll getta you,” I continued. He doesn’t seem to understand. “I’m too ‘oung now. But I will,” I insist.
“Alright,” he says. He doesn’t understand, but that’s alright.
A giant arrives, he asks for me.
“No,” I say simply. One of my favorite words. It draws a short laugh from Sirius Black.
“Attaboy,” he tells me, with a painful smile.
Hagrid relays his quest. Sirius tells him to take the motorcycle. He says he won’t be long.
“Don’t go!” I say, “don’t go!”
“He has to pay,” he answers, righteous anger seeping through his tone. It’s not directed at me.
“Take me with!” I cry, he kisses my head.
“You learnt your lessons well, but this isn’t safe. I’ll be back, I promise.”
I shake my head softly, and watch him leave. Hagrid flies me to my own prison, as I’m sure aurors will Sirius soon. Unfair. I think. Unfair how everything can be destroyed so quickly.
I fell asleep over the ride. We arrive at privet drive and the Hogwarts staff crowd over me. I fight sleep in order to glare at them. They argue over me before I utter loudly over them, “No!”
They turn to me, surprised.
“I wan’a Paddy,” I told them. “Rat’s goin’ to frame him. I need’ta save him.”
“Harry talks? Ain’t he a bit young?” asks Hagrid to the others.
I roll my eyes, “I’mma smart baby. Mama say so,”
The others wince at the mention of my mother. “I saw her fall,” I told them. “You’re all cowards. Bet you’re gonna cry infront’a baby.”
The twinkling old man, Albus too many names Dumbledore, frowns.
They’re unsure how to tread with a talking baby. Good. I wish to cause as much discomfort as I can.
“Albus,” whispers Minerva Mcgonagall, “You can’t leave him with those muggles. It was one thing leaving Mr.Potter when we thought him a normal baby… but these kinds of muggles hate anything different, they’re the worst kind of muggles.”
“They’re family, Minerva.” says Dumbledore, “They’re all he has left.”
It probably would have had a convincing effect had I not blown a raspberry right then and there.
“Mama an’ dada an’ paddy are my family.” I said with all the authority of a one year old.
“Harry-” began Dumbledore, finally addressing me.
“No!” I exclaimed, Minerva winced, a light turned on. “You kidn-kidnapp…ed. Me.” I frown at the word. I pout. I was doing so good on the pronunciation front. Speaking slowly and everything to not stutter constantly like I used to do.
“Harry,” starts Dumbledore once more, careful. “Your godfather was arrested for murder.”
“Peter?” I ask. “Deserves it, the bad rat. Bad bad rat. You know.” I say, “You know .” My eyes widen, then I frown, “Bad rat…” I repeat. Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew. He killed my parents. Not directly, but- he was the missing link. What I’d forgotten. “Bad rat, bad rat!” I wailed. I thrashed in Hagrid’s hold, “Bad rat framed Paddy!” I said. “Bad rat!”
The giant clumsily rocked me back and forth, but I only wailed harder. The headmaster and the professor exchanged a look. I was being too noisy. Not even out of spite, I just couldn’t control myself. Sorrow, rage, an odd mix for a baby to feel. I fell in shock, a familiar state, where I repeated words hysterically whilst sobbing. I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up in a crib in a prime suburban house.
I screamed.