Popping Bubbles, Part 3
Fortunately for Harry, Grandpa George agreed that his true birthday was to be concealed until he was no longer hunted by any party.
Still, the boy wanted to snort at that, remembering how people from the Wizarding World had occasionally greeted him when he’d been small and fully sequestered in the Muggle World, also how he’d been mobbed by well-wishers and fans when he’d gone to Diagon Alley for the first time. But, seeing how much he didn’t want to prolong this useless fretting, didn’t want to upset Grandpa George further, wanted to shuck off all the disguises soon, and hoped to celebrate one of his birthdays with the Hammonds some time before he came of age, he restrained himself. Besides, given the old man’s reaction to just Dobby and Hedwig, he’d have to hide his infamy if he didn’t want to end up being under guard – physical guard – twenty-four hours a day! And Grandpa George already got Dobby’s assurance that the latter would monitor him passively for that duration, somewhere in their scary planning!
Well, in any case, fortunately, too, the special secret-birthday-celebration day still went on despite one member of the Hammond family getting accidentally dragged into the secret. It was a success, even! Everybody adored his cooking, though the female members of the family thought Grandpa George had made it. Harry just managed to beg the old man with his best pleading look not to spill who the chef had been.
Cousin Jenny unknowingly gave him a birthday gift, as well, by dancing and singing with him after the lavish breakfast, to a nice song that seemed to speak very well on the behalf of what he’s currently feeling.
He sang along, in fact, after Grandpa George had set the tape to play the song a second time, after Cousin Jenny led with the first verse.
“Everything I want the world to be
Is now comin' true especially for me
And the reason is clear
it's because you are here
You're the nearest thing to Heaven that I've seen.”
The girls whooped and rushed into the impromptu dance-and-sing circle on the third run of the song, and it’s indeed what he wanted his world to be.
“I'm on the top of the world
All lookin' down on creation
And the only explanation I can find
Is the love that I've found ever since you've been around
Your love's put me at the top of the world.”
And he felt on top of the world, indeed, lifted up and buoyed there by this unrestrained, unfaked, unrelenting, warm exuberance that was just for him. It made him selfish, maybe, but for once he was glad to be selfish.
Especially when Grandpa George joined them after setting the song to repeat for the fourth time.
“Such a feelin's comin' over me
There is wonder in most every thing I see
Not a cloud in the sky
got the sun in my eyes
And I won't be surprised if it's a dream.”
He wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a dream, and he wouldn’t like to wake up from it, too.
It’s not the first time he thought about it, and it mightn’t be the last, and he was all right with it.
“Somethin' in the wind has learned my name
And it's tellin' me that things are not the same
In the leaves on the trees
And the touch of the breeze
There's a pleasin' sense of happiness for me.”
He could get used to being Henry Howard Hammond. He would get used to it, if only it meant he had a family to call his, a family that would care, that would unashamedly celebrate his birthday with him like this, even though they didn’t know it’s his birthday except for Grandpa George.
And Grandpa George didn’t tell anyone like the man had promised.
It’s new, it’s not the same as the Dursleys, and Harry’s totally happy about it.
“There is only one wish on my mind
When this day is through I hope that I will find
That tomorrow will be just the same for you and me
All I need will be mine if you are here.”
“Raised” by the Dursleys as he had been, he didn’t need much. This was already far beyond his expectation, far more than he needed, but he’d take it anyway.
Well, now he found he was greedy, too, and he didn’t mind.
“…There is wonder in most every thing I see….”
The kitchen wasn’t tidy. They hadn’t had the chance to clean up before this mood had struck. But it looked just perfect to him, and the others apparently thought so, because they kept spinning and jigging and swaying and stomping amidst the clutter.
“…it's because you are here
You're the nearest thing to Heaven that I've seen.”
Ron and Hermione and everyone else were nice, but they weren’t really his. They had their own families. They were comfy with their families for the most part. And now he was, too.
“…Is the love that I've found ever since you've been around
Your love's put me at the top of the world.”
He didn’t know what “love” meant, really meant, but he felt warm and comfy and safe and surrounded in a good way and paid attention to also in a good way and full with good food, here and now, and he dearly wished it wouldn’t ever end.
“…In the leaves on the trees
And the touch of the breeze….”
Cousin Jenny and the girls had played with him, with messy bubbles, with unruly running and shrieking, with joyful abandon, and he’d treasure it all his life.
“…When this day is through I hope that I will find
That tomorrow will be just the same for you and me….”
Well, he sorely hoped so!
And the hope carried him through for days and weeks. Even when he had to admit that he had been enrolled in an “odd” exclusive school that didn’t teach most mundane subjects for two years already. Even when he agreed to try enrolling in a “public school” despite that, and studied madly to catch up prior to school, and failed to mingle both socially and academically anyway even after a week.
His hope soared, even, when a guilt-ridden Cousin Jenny admitted, “Yeah, we should’ve just homeschooled you, kid. So sorry for this,” then proceeded to outline a list of subjects and textbooks and supplementary readings for him alongside himself and Grandpa George and an “education expert” Grandpa George had brought in especially to help his education. Guilt was there, for failing, for causing the family to exert so much effort and expend so much time for his sake, but hope was still the stronger of the two, for once; hope that this heaven would stay and perhaps even get even better.
He thanked the three helpers, profusely, and thanked them even more by studying hard. Sometimes, he overheard Grandpa George grumble lowly to Cousin Jenny that it’s unnatural for teens to study so hard without any “hijinks,” and vice versa, and it’s awefully weird since the Dursleys often grumbled at him that he’s unnatural, fullstop, but he ignored it.
He was done having “adventures.” His Hogwarts years had been full of those, and they had brought him troubles, most of the time, and not at all of the good kind that Grandpa George and Cousin Jenny hinted at, mostly because of people’s expectations of him, and he would like to have a peaceful life now that he had been deliberately shunted away into obscurity for his protection. Besides, it’s not like he’s leading an unhealthy life or something like that. He still played with one or both of the girls when they invited him, still went with Grandpa George to the man’s workplace whenever possible, had impromptu dance-and-sing moments with Cousin Jenny sometimes, made friends with a few of Grandpa George’s coworkers and cadets, played with Hedwig and Dobby like he had never been able to do before, and never neglected good meals and physical exercise.
But, well, unfortunately, apparently his “Halloween special” was still in the figurative menu for the spices of his life, as Cousin Jenny would have remarked most acerbically.
He was studying in the tree house, making use of the last days of autumn in which it was still bearable to be outside in the afternoon according to the Hammonds, though truthfully he was quite tolerant of cold weathers, when a crack sounded barely two metres away on the backyard, like both a car backfiring and a gunshot and yet none of those. He reached for the pepper spray Cousin Jenny had asked him to keep when Dobby had blabbed about his “adventures” at Hogwarts to her, crept to the door leading to the landing where the spiral stairs winding round the trunk of the oak began with the pepper spray ready…
…And screamed as he was yanked out of the tree house into thin, autumn-crisp air by an invisible force.
Magic.
Here. In the Hammonds’ residence. Nearly half across the world from Great Britain. While he hadn’t done anything magicky since even before the government had sent him here. And the government wouldn’t have blabbed about his whereabout given the fact that they’re the one sending him here.
And, as his body flew unwillingly through the air, his wild eyes, casting about for the intruder, landed on an all-too-familiar figure in severe black robes.
Standing on his backyard. Looking up at him. Sneering as if they were in a classroom as teacher and student instead of this.
Snape.