Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived (Collected Original Works)

Mum (Harry)

Harry made his way to his bedroom in Aunt Petunia’s house. He was scrambling to find a scrap of parchment on the desk. He scribbled a hasty note and folded it neatly. He wrote one word on the outside of the parchment. He used the silky ribbon to tie the note to the box and without a word, he sent it where he knew it would be safe. “Please don’t be too mad at me, Mum.”

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Molly felt an unusual sensation, once that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “An omen.” She instinctually headed to the only magical object that could relieve her worries. She ran her fingers over the worn wood of the base of the clock; it was her good luck ritual. She touched the enchanted spells carved into the base every time before daring to look up at the face.

Not once had her ritual let her down. In fact, the only time the clock had shown her ‘Mortal Peril’, was the time she had failed to rub the charmed boards. She shuddered as she remembered her husband’s hand pointed at ‘Mortal Peril’. Molly had barely been able to contain her dread and anguish, letting lose a scream of pain at the sight. She had been too panicked to remember the ritual and to this day, she blamed herself for forgetting it.

This time, Molly hesitated to look at the face of the clock. While her gut told her that the omen she had felt was not sinister; she was loath to receive a surprise. “I’ve never been one to like surprises.”

Her eyes scanned the clock, starting at the very bottom of the base. She had barely reached the intricate carvings that separated the face from its holder when her eyes swam out of focus. Something was obstructing her view of the clock face. She blinked rapidly to clear the illusion, but when she opened her eyes she still saw a fuzzy section of space right in front of the clock face. She was frustrated at not being able to see the hands of her precious clock, so she swiped at the spot. “What a silly thing to do,” she thought as her hand moved through the air. “If it’s magical, swiping at it won’t do anything. It probably won’t do anything good, I’m certain of that”.

Molly had no way of knowing how wrong she was. Her hand collided painfully with the blurred area. “What?” Suddenly, it was as if the item had glued itself to her hand. Some force, beyond her control, was closing her fingers around the small object. “What in the name of Merlin is going on here?”

Molly took a step back from her clock, her arm outstretched and her palm closed tightly around a sharp object. Molly figured that the object must be a box of some sort, as the corners were digging in to the delicate skin in between her fingers. She tried to open her fingers, but she couldn’t. She tried to force her fingers open with her other hand, but it was in vain. She was just starting to panic when she heard a familiar sound, one she couldn’t place. “That is such a beautiful song. Where do I know it from?”

Molly looked around wildly, searching for the source of the strange noise that was echoing throughout the house. “Where is that racket coming from?” She tried to take a step to search further, but her feet wouldn’t move. Now the panic was settling deep within the pit of her stomach. The noise grew louder, reaching a crescendo as Molly felt a sense of peace she had never before known. “I’m not sure how, but I know that everything is going to be just fine.”

A Phoenix appeared in front of Molly, in an echo form. The brilliant colors of the plumage were reduced to grayscale, making the Phoenix seem on the verge of disappearing. In an instant, Molly felt the holds on her body release. The Phoenix disappeared. “Harry?”