Oophagy || Harry Potter [B1]

Chapter 1: Foundling

October 1984

Daddy had shut the door. Harry knew what that meant. Closed door meant angry voices (quiet like that time he hid in the toy chest playing hide-and-seek with Miss Birdwhistle, and not like when she found him) and Mummy sniffling in the pudding while Daddy washed the Sorrys down with milk. After, the air would be thick and wet and taste a bit like the neighbour's dog smelled after a thunderstorm, and everything would be back to normal.

'...reception teacher said? What...doing to him...?'

'He's four...stork....like Dumbo...'

A closed door meant Harry was alone in his inside fort with no Daddy to fly him or Mummy to bring him the right toys (he didn't think he wanted to command the bear brigade today. Sergeant Speckles wasn't a good singer, and he was being very rude anyway). If he had his colours, he could draw some friends to sing with, but Mummy hadn't believed him when he said they were only squiggles (her face got all twitchy like Harry's when he ate a Fizzer), and now they were missing. (She said it was time-out, but Harry thought she just didn't like squiggles.)

'What do you mean, how I look at him? I'm his mother! I love him! You know...'

'...You don't look at him like he is enough...never will so long as you're waiting for...'

But a closed door also meant no one could see him break The Rules if he was extra small and quiet, which sometimes was even better than flying with Daddy. In his old inside fort, there were lines on the sides so Harry could climb up the walls and go exploring. But then Daddy caught him sneaking outside one time and said they had to get a new one. Harry didn't like his new fort. It didn't have anything like lines on the side, and the walls were too tall to jump over without his big blocks. (Daddy had taken those away before he and Mummy went behind the door.) He would have tried to build stairs without his blocks, but the bear brigade didn't seem to like this idea, and Sergeant Speckles was ignoring him.

Luckily for Harry, though, he had something much better than stupid Sergeant Speckles. He had the Power of Wishes. Sometimes, if he wanted something bad enough, if he thought about it long and hard, so hard his head started to hurt and his skin tingled like a thousand thousand ants were running all over him, sometimes he could make it happen. But the trick was it hardly ever worked more than once at a time, so he really had to be sure he knew what he wanted first before he used it. Harry sat down cross-legged on the carpet to think about this. What should he wish for?

'But I don't, Paul! There's something wrong with him! He isn't—he isn't...'

Harry thought and thought and thought some more, and as he thought, his tongue found its way to the roof of his mouth. It was starting to feel all weird again. Like some of the slimy bit was scooped out. He wondered if it was like licking an ice-cream cone, how if you made your tongue pointy at the end, you could draw a line through it like a castle moat. Harry suddenly felt very anxious at this thought. Mummy had told him not to lick up there (she'd gotten very pale when she first caught him doing it, and her hands had trembled where they gripped his shoulders). Was this why? Did Harry have a moat in his mouth? Harry's face felt warm and his eyes got all swimmy and he thought he might cry. But Sergeant Speckles was watching, and Harry didn't want him to see.

'...he's just nothing like me! Or you...siblings...even the other children.... I don't know...step away for half a second...bring home a rabid squirrel!'

'...parenthood, dear...'

'...that damn au pair...'