One day, I know that you will be there,
One day, I'll focus on the future,
Maybe one day, oh, baby, isn't life so,
Fucking inconsistent!
-Lovejoy
Lynn's Flat 1st August 1987
It was the morning light that startled Harry from his sleep. It was unusual for him to see the light of day when first woke up, and the smell of the air was noticeably clean compared to the mustiness of his cupboard. Instead of the sun, it was often the sound of his aunt Petunia's knuckles rapping against his cupboard door or the click of the deadbolt being slide back if he was locked in for punishment.
Light shone through the taupe curtains, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. At the other side of his room, on top of the chest of drawers, was his new snowy owl, who he had yet to name. She clicked her beak softly, and Harry pretended that she was saying good morning to him.
"I'm really here," he laughed gently to himself. He had finally escaped the Dursleys. His body sunk deeper into the array of plump pillows, arms and legs fully spread out to make use of the large space.
He'd feared that the whole thing would turn out to be a dream when he woke; that there was no magical godmother and that he wasn't a wizard himself. Still, he had doubts that he would be allowed to stay here indefinitely. Surely his uncle wouldn't just let him leave?
Harry slowly slid himself out of bed and placed his newly fixed glasses onto his face, his bare feet padding quietly over the wooden floor as he exited his room. He wasn't sure was the time was, or if he was allowed to just wander around, but curiosity forced him to explore the little flat.
He had never seen a home like it before. The living room, dining table and kitchen were all in the same room without walls separating them, (Harry would later find out it was called an open plan). Bookshelves lined one wall of the room, stopping where the kitchen started. Most of the shelves were filled with a wide variety of novels and textbooks, but a few had plant pots and miscellaneous items such as a coin jar and an ornate fox decorating the shelves. There was even a crystal ball resting on the top shelf, swirling patterns of black and purple within it, as if it contained its own galaxy of stars and space.
Another shelf was stacked high with what appeared to be sketchbooks, all leather-bound and in varying conditions. Curious, Harry picked one up, opening it up to a random page. Inside was a very detailed drawing of a wolf-like creature Harry had never seen before. It stood beneath the moon, head tilted upwards in a long howl. Harry began to flick through the sketchbooks, all of which were filled with random, rather realistic drawings. A few even had his parents in them. Those were the ones he stared at the longest, brushing his fingertips over their charcoal faces.
The sound of bacon sizzling startled him from his snooping, and he got up quickly from his position on the floor, spinning around to face Lynn with a guilty look on his face.
"Want some bacon, Harry?" Lynn asked cheerfully, adding another few strips to the pan. "I'll cook us up a fry. Sausages? I've got hash browns on too. How do you like your eggs?"
"Oh, umm, I don't mind," Harry blushed, setting the sketchbook back in the pile in the hopes that she didn't notice him looking. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy her. What if she decided he was too problematic to keep? His Aunt Petunia had threatened him countless times with the orphanage, which didn't sound all that pleasant. Uncle Vernon told him they hung bad children by the ankles and made the blood rush to their heads.
"I like them scrambled so I'll make them like that if that's okay," she told him, pointing her wand at the egg carton, making a few fly out and crack themselves into a bowl. A whisk floated from a drawer and began to beat the eggs vigorously.
"I can help, aunt Lynn," Harry offered, rolling up his sleeves. Even from a distance, Lynn could make out faint burn marks marring his tiny forearms. "I usually make breakfast for the Dursleys."
"That's okay Harry, I've got everything sorted. You can use the telly if you want. The remote's on that coffee table." She placed the best smile she could onto her face to convince him. Parenting was a foreign concept to the Irish woman, since she had no children of her own and didn't exactly have an outstanding example growing up, however, she knew better than to be anything but gentle with the seven year old in her care.
She fixed them both a plate and brought them to the sofa Harry occupied, declining Harry's offer to change the channel from the morning cartoons he had excitedly switched on. She subtly watched as he rushed to finish his breakfast. "Would you like any more?"
"I'm okay. Thank you, aunt Lynn. Can I call you aunt Lynn?"
"Of course," she smiled widely. "You can call me whatever feels comfortable for you."
"I like aunt Lynn," he admitted. "You're by far the best auntie I have."
...
They spent the rest of the day decorating his room, deciding on a darker blue colour for his walls. She showed off her transfiguration skills, changing a bedside table into a bookshelf and a cabinet into a wardrobe.
"What was that spell you used on Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked, carefully hanging the clothing he had gotten the day before into his new wardrobe. "With the pumpkin."
"It was a prank spell your grandfather taught me," Lynn laughed, reminiscing all the times she used it in duels. "It's probably one of my favourites."
"It's mine too," Harry declared, the image of his walrus faced uncle with a pumpkin for a head greatly amusing him. "Can you teach me it?"
"When you're older," she grinned at his excitement. "Remember you can't do magic with a wand until to go to Hogwarts."
Harry groaned at that. "But that's ages away!" He quickly shut his mouth when he realised he'd raised his voice slightly, losing his guard from how comfortable he'd been. He was beginning to sound like Dudley, he thought. "Sorry."
"Don't worry," she reassured him. He refused to meet her gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong."
The next few weeks Lynn observed similar behaviour from her godson. Every morning he would offer to cook the breakfast, to which she would politely refuse. If Harry became overexcited and raised his voice, or even made any excessive noise, he would immediately freeze up and apologise.
Lynn's initial priority was to take him away from his relatives, but quickly she realised that the Dursley's still held power over the young boy. Years of manipulation and emotional abuse had left Harry frightened of upsetting Lynn, and every so often he flinched, as if she would lash out at him for something as simple as asking a question about his parents.
She threw herself into the responsibility of making Harry as safe and as loved as she could. With a heavy heart, she said goodbye to her collection of whisky and rum, sending Harry's new owl Hedwig off with her first delivery to Hagrid. She tried to abstain from smoking, but after two days the withdrawals from alcohol and nicotine were too much of a pain, so she limited herself to two a day.
They went on another shopping trip through London. Harry was much more cooperative, though to Lynn's disappointment he didn't seem all that interested in fashion.
"Would you like to go watch a quidditch match with me?" Lynn asked him on the train home, their carriage empty except for the two of them.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Harry jumped in his seat with eagerness.
He'd been learning all about quidditch the past few weeks, attempting to read 'Quidditch Through the Ages' which was apart of Lynn's vast collection of books. When the words were too big for him (he was 7 after all) he just watched the moving pictures with fascination, still getting used to the fact that they could do so.
"I'll be bringing a couple of the Weasley boys with me too," she added as an afterthought, mostly talking to herself. Harry had heard of the Weasley's. Molly Weasley often sent dinner over to the apartment in a container, carried by an ageing, rugged owl named Errol. "I have season tickets for the Galway Ghouls- I get four per match, so I'll probably take the twins this time. I took Ron, Charlie and Percy last month for the Chudley Cannons."
Harry tried not to let that dampen his excitement. He wasn't very good at making friends, especially with Dudley's gang of idiots threatening anyone that so much as talked to him. At first, the prospect of meeting other magical children without his cousin there to ruin things delighted the seven-year-old, but a nagging voice at the back of his head told him that it had nothing to do with Dudley, and other children simply just didn't like him.
"How many quidditch teams are there?" Harry questioned her the day of the match. She had suggested he wore his red Adidas jacket that had been bought the week prior, since Galway's team colours were red and white.
"Officially? I think there's fourteen in the league. There's three Irish ones- The Ghouls, the Ballycastle Bats and the Kenmare Kestrels. Kestrels are already out of the league and the Bats are playing the Harpies next week."
Harry nodded, recognising none of the names. Ghouls and Bats he can remember, but what were Kestrels?
Any fears of children not liking him were quelled as soon as he stepped out of the Burrow's fireplace, still frightened that the emerald flames would scorch his skin, despite Lynn assuring him that it wouldn't.
The twins appeared at their side immediately, throwing their arms around Lynn's middle and causing her to almost stumble back into the fireplace. Her laughter chimed through the whole house, attracting its other members to investigate the commotion.
Then the twins were all over Harry, like hyperactive dogs sniffing out a new visitor at the door. They asked question upon question. Could they see his scar? What was it like living with muggles? Which quidditch team did he support? Which Hogwarts house did he prefer?
"Fred! George! Stop smothering the poor boy!" came a shrill voice, and immediately they had stepped back from him, identical grins on their freckled faces so bright he couldn't help but mirror them with a grin of his own.
Molly came into view and immediately wrapped her arms around Lynn, the top of her ginger head just tickling her chin.
"Molly, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Molly Weasley," she introduced. "That's Fred and George, though don't ask me how to tell which is which because I haven't a baldy's notion."
"You- what?" Harry blinked, still not used to the odd phrases that his godmother used so casually.
"It means she doesn't know," one of the twins informed him. "Me and Fred are well used to it now, aren't we Freddie, so we'll keep you right. Though we still don't know what an eejit is."
"An eejit is what you two are." Harry peered around Lynn to find an army of red-headed children at the base of the stairs, all peering at him like he was some kind of alien. The boy who had spoken looked to be older than the twins, but not by much.
"Percy thinks we took his copy of Numerology and Grammatica, but we didn't," Fred sniffed indignantly.
"Yeah, he's mental. Like we'd ever touch a book like that," George took over, scrunching his nose in disgust.
The sound of feet padding down the stair could be heard, and yet another redhead came into view, popping his head over the bannister to watch. He had been in his room huffing, as any seven-year-old would, over the twins being allowed to watch the match and not him, despite the fact he had gotten to go last month. But curiosity had forced him to take a look at Lynn's godson, the famous Harry Potter.
"Ron, come down and say hello to Harry," Molly urged her son. Ron furrowed his brow and leaned further over the bannister to get a better view of Harry who was partially hidden by Lynn's robes.
Harry blushed slightly and gave a little wave. Ron made his way quickly down the rest of the steps and stood beside the twins, offering his hand also. "Ron Weasley. Is it true you have the scar?"
"Ronald!" Gasped Molly, affronted that he would ask such a question, not that the seven-year-old knew any better. Harry grinned anyway and swept his raven black hair from his forehead to show off the jagged lightning scar, the only thing he really liked about his appearance.
"Wicked," whispered Ron, Fred and George together. Molly only rolled her eyes at her sons, though her wary gaze stayed on the mark marring Harry's forehead.
Harry tried to learn all of the Weasley children's names but didn't have much time to do so, as Lynn began ushering him and the twins towards the Floo, promising Molly that she wouldn't spoil her sons too much.
Irish National Quidditch Stadium, Connemara.
Lynn clutched Harry and Fred's hands tightly, tricking George into staying close to her by tasking him with the responsibility of keeping an eye on Harry since it was his first quidditch match. So George kept his hand on Harry's shoulder, and explained in depth the rules of quidditch, with occasional add ons from Fred.
They went around the stalls first, the match not starting for another two hours. Despite it being late August, the air was rather chilly, though thankfully no rain cloud could be spotted. Lynn quickly bought Harry his own red and white scarf to match herself and the twins.
"Oi, Mundungus!" Lynn called to a man who was selling wasp plushies. Harry was reminded by Fred that the Galway Ghouls were playing the Wimbourne Wasps. You couldn't blame him for forgetting, he only learned of the sport's existence three weeks ago.
"Alrigh' McLaughlin?" a squat, ginger man greeted Lynn with a nasally voice. He stank of tobacco and was rather grubby looking, and to Harry seemed rather out of place standing behind a stall of cartoon wasp teddies.
Lynn seemed to think so too. "Where'd you get all them wasps, Dung?" A smirk immediately spread across her face, making Mundungus shuffle on his feet. "Only thing you could manage to steal before the match?"
"Eyy, lower your voice would yeh? Bad for business, accusin' me of crimes like 'at," the beady-eyed man glowered at her, then drew his gaze towards the three boys. "And who's all these? Didn't know you had kids after the whole thing with S-"
"They're Weasley's kids," Lynn cut him off breezily. "And my nephew. I'll have to go, Dung, can't hang around Wasp merch too much or I'll boke."
"Boke?" Harry questioned quietly to the twins.
"Vomit," they chimed in unison.
They were allowed to pick out an item each, the twins deciding on Galway Ghouls caps that clashed horribly with their hair and Harry picking out a moving poster for his room, with all seven of the current Ghouls players flying in perfect synchronisation. Then, with hotdogs in their grasp and sweets filling their pockets, they climbed the steps several flights upwards, and out into the stalls.
Harry looked down over the railing once they found their seats at the front of the section, mouth agape at how high they were off the ground. Fred and George stood on either side of him and pointed out different things they thought would pique his interest, such as the three humongous gold hoops at each end of the pitch, and the Galway team's mascot- a thin, green-skinned ghoul that was wandering lazily around the grass, dressed in red and white quidditch robes with a wizard's hat perched on its head.
The match lasted three hours, and Harry enjoyed every single second of it. The score ended up being 410-260 to the Galway Ghouls, much to Lynn and the twins' delight. Between his godmother's devotion to the team and how mesmerising the players performance was to him, Harry became a hardcore Ghouls fan the moment Aiden Lynch ("Only 16!" Lynn had proclaimed) grabbed the snitch after pulling out of a spectacular spiral dive.
They arrived back at the Burrow, immediately surrounded by the Weasley children, even little Ginny who was beginning to develop a liking for the sport, who all cheered loudly when told the Ghouls had won. Fred and George showed off their caps to their siblings, then all seven children raced towards the meadow they used as a quidditch pitch, tugging along a beaming Harry to show him how to fly.
"Bill! Charlie! Don't let the younger ones use the adult brooms!" Molly yelled after them. Both gave their mother a thumbs up.
"I've got two chickens in the oven, Lynn. I hope you can stay for dinner," Molly led her into the kitchen, sticking on the kettle with a flick of her wand.
"That would be lovely, Molly."
Molly handed her a mug of steaming tea, milk and sugar already in the cup with the teabag still in it- knowing how your friend preferred their tea was a true sign of friendship. "You look healthier, Lynn," Molly pointed out, not quite able to put her finger on what was different about the Irish woman.
"Aye, I'm not hungover," Lynn grumbled, blowing gently on the hot liquid and taking an experimental sip. "Haven't had a drink in three weeks. Mailed all my firewhisky to Hagrid so I don't have any around the flat."
Molly's brows shot up in surprise. "That's great," she encouraged.
"Don't want to fuck it up," Lynn shrugged, trying not to make a big deal of it. "It's James and Lily's son. I can't fuck it up."
"You won't," Molly spoke confidently. "You're great with all my rascals. I doubt Harry will be a handful compared to one of mine. Even Percy is giving me a headache these days. I think this is the first time in months he's been outside with the others."
"I'm sure Percy's just finding his own thing," Lynn reassured her. "He was asking me loads of Arithmancy questions the other day, and he's only going into first year. He's definitely going to be a bookworm, that one."
"I suppose," Molly sighed. "You didn't have to get him those textbooks. They're really expensive..."
"Don't be silly," Lynn waved off. "I have loads of them for classes. Dumbledore gave me like 10 of them for Hogwarts, but if Percy's interested he should pursue it. Even though it's the most boring subject to exist."
"You teach the subject, Lynn."
"Not everyone gets to have the job they want. I'm after McGonagall's as soon as Dumbledore retires and she takes his place." In all seriousness, Lynn didn't really care for teaching Transfiguration either, but it would be 20 times better than Arithmancy.
"Transfiguration?" Molly questioned. "I suppose being an animagus would be enough proof to qualify. Twenty-three is very young to become an animagus."
"Exactly, they'd have to at least consider me," Lynn agreed, omitting the fact she was 15 when she finally achieved the transformation, but 23 was the official story. "Honestly I have no idea what I'd like to do, so Arithmancy's my best option."
"Would you never consider going back to curse breaking?" Molly hadn't known her well back then, only meeting her through Arthur and her brother's Fabian and Gideon, who were active members of the Order. "Bill's considering it, though I'm not overly keen on the idea. Curse breaking is rather dangerous."
"I was a curse breaker for less than a year," Lynn reminded her, wringing her hands under the table. "Don't think it's for me. Bill would be great at it though, and he's sensible enough not to take unnecessary risks."
Molly hummed, her gaze drifting from Lynn to the family clock hanging on the wall behind her. "Oh, Arthur's finally leaving the ministry."
Sure enough, the crack of apparation echoed through the property, signalling Arthur's arrival. He pushed the back door open and came in whistling merrily.
"Alright Arthur? How was work?" Lynn greeted him as he leaned down to place a kiss on Molly's cheek.
"I had to orchestrate five raids today. Five! Oh thank you, Lynn," Mr. Weasley spoke as Lynn handed him a cup of tea. "And I had to stop Mundungus Fletcher from smuggling flying carpets too. Bloody told him ten times that carpets are considered a muggle artefact, not that the law ever stopped him before."
"Smuggling carpets? You have to give him points for dedication. He was at the match today selling Wasp merch- should've been a Hufflepuff with all that hard work he puts in," Lynn joked. Molly wrinkled her nose at the mention of Mundungus, not at all a fan of the thief, despite only ever hearing stories of his double-dealing and had never seen it for herself.
Not long after their father arrived, the army of ginger children, whisking along a much scrawnier, black-haired kid, poured through the door, stomping their feet clean on the doorstep. "Dad!" Ginny squealed, rushing into her father's arms.
"Aunt Lynn!" Harry called her breathlessly, racing in along with Ron. "I got to ride a broom!"
"That's wonderful, Harry," Lynn smiled endearingly. "What'd you think?"
"I'm going to be a seeker!" he declared proudly. "Charlie's seeker for- um- Gryffindor, and he said I'd make a good one!"
"Harry!" George called from the base of the staircase. "Do you want to see the garden gnomes? They're really ugly!"
"Yeah!" he exclaimed, following the twins and Ron out into the garden.
"Oh, isn't he just precious," cooed Molly. "Were his aunt and uncle okay with you taking him?"
"Oh Molly, you don't know the half of it," Lynn wrinkled her nose. "Well, first of all, I trapped the uncle's head in a pumpkin..."
...
rewritten 18/08/21
I got a flat recently which is pretty nice. Have some Harry Potter fanfiction. Feast.