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Oh Baby! | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts Characters:All, All Genres: Comedy, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 10 Summary: Brave, resourceful and with a great soundtrack, Harry Potter has faced countless challenges over time. Dozens of Death Eaters…bring them on. Angry ogres…nothing could be easier. Voldemort even…he was simple. Then Harry meets a real challenge. Now if he can only find the instruction manual… Hitcount: Story Total: 6425 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: The Other Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is Harry Potter’s authorized biographer, and I offer my respect and thanks for being allowed to add an occasional missing moment to her work. I hope that someday she will find it in her heart to forgive me. |
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By Spenser Hemmingway “Parenting without a sense of humor is like being an accountant who stinks at math.”–Anonymous She was hot. There was no doubt about it. What’s more, she was a world of trouble for both Ron and Harry…that is if they allowed themselves to get too close at the moment. The two of them had to get out, or better yet, get her out of there. It was a bit of a dilemma, but the two Wizards had become specialists in dealing with those. It was mid-July, and I was suffering from the worst kind of writer’s block. Luna’s Great Uncle Samuel, while trying to use a Muggle pogo stick, had bounced over a beer-leaf hedge and broken his funny bone. She had gone to care for him for a few days, and I was left wandering around Hogsmeade waiting for something humorous to happen. It would have been better if I had stayed in the yard and battled the garden gnomes. Really…the town was absolutely hilarious that day. I got to watch one of the local farmers load up a wagon with several hundred pounds of compost, then listen to the barbershop crowd discuss how bad the cross-eye fishing was that summer on Kill-Ogre Creek. I would have been able to fill volumes with what I heard in the Hog’s Head, but the village drunk passed out in the corner booth before he could finish his thirteenth ale (or was it his thirtieth?). I might have had better luck that morning if I had simply gone back into the woods and talked to the squirrels. Unfortunately, I don’t speak squirrel, and, as I said, Luna was away for a few days. When all else fails however, there is always one ever-reliable source for a good story…or even one of mine. Shifting my ball cap, and taking up my walking stick and small rucksack, I immediately set out for the Broom Farm, home to Harry and Ginny Potter. Even with the war and our school days behind us, I was certain that two cups of good coffee would easily yield at least a three-thousand-word short story. Fortunately, I had thrown a pound of good Burundian dark-roast in my bag. Despite being a fairly muggy day, it truly was a beautiful one, and I didn’t mind taking the long route to the farm. I passed a couple of fields that were being worked by their respective owners, stopped to pet a beautiful gray pony that trotted up to the wall to see me, and at one cottage paused again for a few minutes to watch a pair of very cute little girls darting about their yard. The two were calling out with glee as they ran, their hands clutching toy brooms and a large number of pretty yellow flowers. I was really enjoying my walk, and, except for the writer’s block, extremely pleased with the world. After about a half-hour, I rounded the final bend in the road, and spotted the Potters’ large, beautiful home in the distance. Without even having to think about it, I picked up my step, at least until I was about seventy-five yards away. That was when I first heard the yelling. I thought that it might be a female voice, and instantly I was on the alert for any trouble. Experience had taught all of us that Death Eaters weren’t the only problem for which we needed to be prepared. I found myself running all-out then, trying to get to the farmhouse to help my friends. I still could not tell what she was shouting, but it did not sound good. Just as I reached the front gate, out of the open parlor window dove…Ron Weasley. What was he doing here? I wondered. Hitting the ground rolling, and then dashing straight toward me, he was followed a split-second later by Harry. “Feldercarb guys! What’s going on? Trolls? An ogre? Is it another one of those Dragon Scouts selling cookies?” I called out to them, motioning that they should join me behind the relative safety of the wall. They both did so, but then I noticed that neither one of them had bothered to draw a wand. “Worse mate,” Ron said, trying to catch his breath. I suddenly thought I knew. “It’s Hermione. She’s trying to kill us.” Oh great! I was right! Hermione was eight-months pregnant with their first child, it was the warmest day of the year (which had to increase her discomfort), and both Ron and Harry were fairly clueless about dealing with her condition. Actually, so was I, but at least I was smart enough to keep my distance. “I thought that you hid her wand last month Ron.” “He did. Hermione grabbed Ginny’s,” Harry told me then. “Ron, that had to have been the worst possible thing that you could have asked her.” “What? What did he say Harry?” “Ginny has been discussing taking Hermione and a friend of theirs in Sweet Haven over to Edinburgh for a three-day vacation. Just the girls were going to go. You know…to do some baby shopping, and maybe pamper themselves. Female stuff…if you catch my drift? I guess that the other girl just had a baby herself, and really needs to get away as well.” “And…” “Ron here blurts out, ‘Does that mean Harry and I have to cook and clean for ourselves?’ It didn’t go over very well Spense.” “No…you didn’t really say that?” I gasped in sincere disbelief. “Harry, we’ll need to contact the rest of the Weasley family to find out where they would like the body sent. He cautiously took a quick peek over the wall, and a moment later gave a sigh of relief and stood up. “It looks as if it’s safe now. Ginny is waving us back in, but she does not look happy.” Harry slowly opened the gate, and the three of us walked toward the house as slowly as Ginny’s impatient expression allowed. “Inside…all of you. Now!” “To be honest, I was just passing through Ginny, and… Right now? Inside…yes ma’am.” I obediently followed Ron and Harry in through the kitchen door and was immediately struck with the change in Hermione in just the past few days. Her face was fuller, her ankles swollen, her eyes were dark (from a lack of sleep no doubt), and her friendly albeit sometimes impatient expression replaced with an unhappy, don’t mess with me right now grimace. I risked a hello but was only rewarded with an I hate all men today look. I had to take that as meaning the pregnancy wasn’t going well for her at the moment. “Now listen closely, the three of you. Yes, I know Spenser, but I believe that you owe us one…several actually. As soon as we can finish packing our bags, we are all leaving for Sweet Haven. Since Ron has decided, and wisely for once, that Hermione should not Apparate or fly with the baby, and since Millicent’s husband is a Muggle and their home is not on the Floo Network, we will be borrowing Mr. O’Leary’s team and wagon.” “Crum Ginny…that’s a good fifteen-mile drive, and those horses of his are near worthless,” Ron told her. Hermione glared at him even more, but his sister simply ignored the comment. “I really think that the trip will be good for both of you,” Harry softly said, “…but why do you need all three of us to take you over there? I’m no good with horses, and I don’t think that Spenser has had much experience either.” “Riding a little…but not driving a wagon Harry.” “Millicent’s husband is away with the fishing fleet for another eight or nine days,” Ginny replied with what could only be described as a no-nonsense tone. “All of you get to babysit.” The trip over was pleasant enough. The horses were nowhere as bad as Ron had alluded, and he even went out of his way to fix up a comfortable bed for Hermione in the back (perhaps as penance for his earlier comment). She actually managed to smile at him about that, and I noticed then that he was especially careful to take the safest, smoothest route through the hills. We all knew that Ron can be dense at times, but there was no doubt that he loved his wife. The ride lasted just over three hours, not counting the numerous stops so that the horses and Hermione could rest. I was a little surprised that the village we entered seemed to have quite a few other horse-drawn conveyances. It was a quaint little town, although a bit larger than Hogsmeade. Located on one of Scotland’s firths (large, long coastal inlets), its three principle industries were fishing, tourism, and ostrich farming (great omelets). The MacKettle cottage was old and larger than what they must have needed to utilize, but it was easy to see that its construction was solid. The design however had Harry, Ron, and me scratching our heads. You will not believe me here, but if you are ever in that part of Scotland…well, stop in for a visit. Millicent MacKettle and her family live in a giant shoe. The foundation was built of large, rough-hewn, black stones, and it resembled an actual sole. At one end was a tall reverse-tapering tower, constructed of lighter-color blocks, and with a number of very small windows. Surprisingly, a series of vines grew up one side, reminding us of actual shoelaces. Stretching out to the front was a long, tall and yet single-story extension with a rounded roof. We were flabbergasted when Hermione actually beat both Ron and me in asking where its mate was. Then Ginny questioned whether there might be a very large giant somewhere hopping around on one foot. Realizing what they had said, both girls suddenly looked very embarrassed, and quickly glanced around to ensure that no one else had heard them. Harry gave the two a quick smile, and then proceeded to approach and ring the house’s doorbell. In the name of full disclosure, and not wanting to be accused of stealing someone else’s idea, I will tell you now that what we heard then is absolutely true. After depressing the button, we all listened to Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made For Walkin’. Well, apparently the couple had heard all the jokes, but retained a good sense of humor. Several seconds later we could hear footsteps, and then there was the sound of a series of bolts being unfastened. The large door opened to reveal a woman of perhaps twenty-one, tall, slender, and holding a very pretty and very unhappy baby in her arms. She looked at least as tired as Hermione did, but despite her evident misery, gave all of us an exceptionally warm smile. Ginny surprised all of us by stepping forward to take the baby from her…it immediately stopped crying. I guess that anyone who could raise seven children the way Molly Weasley had would be able to explain babies to her daughter quite well. “Hello…thank you Ginny. He seems to like you. Come in. Come in. I wasn’t sure when to expect you, but I had our house-elf put together some cold roast beef, hot buttered green beans, and freshly baked nut bread. I hope you all like strawberry pie as well. I’m afraid that it is very hard to come by moonberries here, not to mention explaining them to our Muggle guests.” “Strawberry will be wonderful,” Hermione told her, but her expression signaled Ron and the rest of us what was coming next. “Excuse me…did you say that you own a house-elf?” Dear, sweet Hermione and her favorite cause. “It is actually my mother’s elf and a very old family friend as well. Molly mentioned in a letter how you feel about them. I assure you, Biddy has been free since before I was born. She has been with my family since my great, great grandfather was a baby. Her being released was reward for decades of service. When it was granted however, she refused to leave the front steps, moaning, pounding on the door, and begging to come back in. Mother compromised and agreed to allow her to stay if she would accept a Knut a month as salary. Growing up, Biddy would always either sneak those into my small troll bank or buy me sweets behind my parents’ backs.” “Now she works for you?” Harry asked, seeing that self-same elf approaching them with a tray containing several glasses of some iced beverage…perhaps tea. Biddy was easily the oldest elf that I had ever seen. She had a serious…dour expression, a somewhat hunched posture and extremely bloodshot eyes. “No…my mother merely loaned her to us. My husband Derwood conceded to have a magical creature in the house since the alternative was my mother visiting for several months. He really has nothing against Witches and Wizards…I’ve even brought him to Hogwarts to see it, which took a little magical manipulation for a Muggle. Sweet Haven, however, is a very tight community, almost entirely non-Wizarding and a difficult place to keep a secret. We try to keep magic to a minimum here, and Biddy is usually under a Chameleon Spell to disguise her. She really is an excellent nanny and has been an enormous help these past few months.” While Ginny and Hermione went off to help Millicent pack, Harry, Ron and I each took a glass of what was indeed iced tea and began to explore what would be our home for the next three days. It was without a doubt a very Mugglized house, but for some reason this seemed to appease Ron when faced with the request to limit our magic. The kitchen had all manner of modern conveniences, including a well-stocked refrigerator and an extraordinarily large coffeemaker. I made a mental note to explain microwave ovens again to Ron. We did not want a repeat of the exploding can of cream corn incident. In what appeared to be the family room, we found a billiards table, a nice stereo system, and a rather large television. In one corner stood a tall shelf containing well over two hundred video tapes. Even when we excluded the new children’s shows (do not get me started with Barney the dinosaur), we had plenty to keep us occupied while the girls were away. I commented to Harry that we needed to introduce Ron to Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson (a personal favorite of mine). Then I saw it! Heart palpitations…excessive drooling…severe hyperventilation followed! “Harry, Ron…they have tapes of the 1969 World Series! Holy smoke! That is the year that the New York Mets won the pennant–-a miracle on a par with Moses and that Red Sea thing! Where on earth did they find something like that?” “Actually, from Derwood’s father. He was at those very games back then in fact.” We turned to see Millicent MacKettle approaching us, again carrying her baby. “We have been very fortunate over the past few years. Not only do we now own our fishing boat, but we also have an interest in his family’s other businesses–-the local cannery, the bakery, the comedy club. We have been able to amass a very nice collection there.” A moment later Hermione and Ginny came into the room, and each of them was carrying an infant as well. Either I needed to borrow Harry’s glasses, or we were about to be dealing with triplets. Oh well, that was why we had a house-elf. Great Scott! I saw that they had a copy of The Krusty The Clown Story on the shelf! That was it…I was never going back to Hogsmeade! Harry walked up to Ginny, and, for some reason, he had an extremely uncomfortable expression on his face. “Would you like to hold him now Harry?” she asked. If he looked uncomfortable before, he now looked all-out scared silly. Ginny’s smile faded when she noticed, and I was sure that she was holding the baby a little closer. “It’s all right Harry…I understand,” she said, but it was quite clear that she did not. I was obviously missing something there, and I would have to talk to him about it later. Harry, Hermione, and I were only-children, and, while Ron and Ginny did come from a large family, they were the two youngest. None of us had any idea about how to deal with a baby, let alone three. Thank goodness we had the nanny! “Ron, Spenser come quickly! There is something wrong with the nanny!” Harry called down the stairs. Ron and I put down our respective fifth slices of pie, paused Rocky XVI,I and took off running in the direction of his voice. Our familiarity with Harry over time had trained us to take it seriously when he resorted to that tone. We took the steps two-at-a-time. “Bloody elves! If we have to deal with another drunken…oh bugger!” The sight of her there instantly shut Ron up. In fact, it took several seconds before it sank into my head as well. She was sitting in the nursery’s over-stuffed chair, staring into space with the same stern expression she had displayed earlier. On her lap lay an open volume of children’s bedtime stories. Well, at least it hadn’t been one of my books that had done this. “Is…is she dead Harry?” I finally managed to ask. “Either that or she’s sleeping with her eyes open, not bothering to breath and has decided that a beating heart is just an optional luxury,” Ron answered for him after a quick examination of the body. “Biddy was fairly old the way that Millicent described her…ancient in fact.” “Her timing could have been better. Blast…and so could theirs,” Harry said, indicating the waking infants. He approached the first one’s crib, and after several moments of hesitation, picked it up. “Did anyone ever mention their names or how to tell them apart? Wait…here it is on the cover of their scrapbook. Hubert, Dewfield, and Louis, and the first letter of their names is embroidered on each of their pajamas.” “That’s what Mum had to do with Fred and George mate. I think that you’re supposed to support its head there Harry. Where do you think that they put the instruction manual for them?” “It has to be around here somewhere,” I said. It would be just our luck that it didn’t have an easy reference index. “They had a big bookcase by the front door. Why don’t I go look there?” “You’d think that they would keep the instructions for these things right at hand. Wait…here take Huey, no wait this is Dewey Spense. Ron and I are going to be busy with these two. I…really don’t believe that you’re supposed to stuff them under your arm like a Quaffle that way.” “You had better hurry too. I smell something incredibly foul suddenly,” Ron added. I did as well, so I went as fast as my tiny charge would allow. Judging by his lung power, he would someday be either an opera singer or a world-class yodeler. At the bookcase, I saw that they had made the effort to purchase how-to books on just about everything. Excellent! I thought, This should be easy. “Auto repair, bread making, do-it-yourself dental surgery, pottery, Spanish, skydiving for dummies, a book on how to write a bestselling novel in three easy lessons…no wait, I wrote that one (I would have to autograph it for them later).” There seemed to be something for everything except how to operate a baby. Louie (or whichever one was with me) went up an octave with his screaming. “Any luck Spenser?” Harry asked as he and Ron came down the steps with the other two infants. Both of their shirts were soaked for some reason. The babies’ diapers were held in place with duct tape, and they appeared to be on backward. “Yeah…bad luck. You don’t suppose that they’re trying this without one, do you?” “Don’t be daft man. I’m sure that even Mum had to refer to the manual with us lot once in a while. Not sure where she kept it though. I suppose we’ll have to go find a Muggle bookstore.” “I’ll do that,” Harry said, handing Ron his baby. I had no doubt that Ron had also noticed how fast he had volunteered for the trip. “I mean…I have the most Muggle money with me don’t I?” “Okay…Harry. Ron could you take care of the third diaper here?” “Not a chance Spense. Besides, I need to go move the dead house-elf to the outbuilding. You’ll need to help me try to feed these three when we’re done. I’ll see if I can find their cow.” “Ron…I’m not sure, but judging by what I saw in the freezer, they aren’t drinking cow’s milk,” Harry told him with a perfectly straight face. “What? You don’t mean…oh blimey!” Ron sputtered out. I took whichever baby I had upstairs to change, and five minutes later I had learned two things: why Ron and Harry’s shirts had been all wet, and that duct tape really was a fantastic invention. “May I help you, young man?” the sales clerk asked Harry. “Yes…I’m looking for the baby manual.” “We actually have several excellent volumes on a wide variety of subjects. Here is an outstanding book describing various theories of child development. There is another…a favorite of many new parents. It describes a number of natural cures for certain infant maladies. How old is your son or daughter?” “Um, no…my wife Ginny and I don’t have any children yet.” “I see…so you’re expecting a baby then. Congratulations! This one book is fairly all-inclusive with some very good prenatal recommendations. The late author had twenty-three children I believe, and she was an absolute authority. Will this be cash or charge?” “No…no, my wife isn’t expecting a child either. My friends and I are babysitting…that’s all,” Harry told the apparently baffled clerk. “We are just trying to replace the instruction manual that came with them.” “Instruction manual?” “Right…the big one that tells you everything you need to know about taking care of a baby. We couldn’t find it in the house after the nanny…left. You must know the one that I’m talking about…the complete volume that all parents are issued when they’re born. Surely you have another one in stock.” Harry saw her smile at him then, and all at once felt a bit sick. “My boy…babies do not come with an instruction manual. These books here can offer you advice on a number of subjects, but many of the fundamentals are simply learned on the job.” “Oh no…” Harry said in a soft whisper. “I’ve raised two children of my own. Perhaps, if you have time for a cup of tea, we can go over a few things. Now, how old is the baby?” “Babies…triplets.” How are we going to keep those things alive for three days? “Okay Ron, here’s your bottle. I think that we are supposed to squirt a few drops on our arms like…ouch that’s way too hot.” “Do we have to do the arm thing Spenser? I mean…the stuff inside…it’s…you know…ick!” “Yeah I do know. I think that the squirting thing is probably just some magical ritual to get them to drink it. This stuff needs to cool down regardless. I don’t suppose that we could just make each of them a ham sandwich?” He was actually considering it, but then shook his head no. “I don’t think that they have any teeth yet Spense.” “Right…that won’t work then, will it? Maybe we can find some baby formula. We could use that instead.” “Formula? Is that like a potion?” Ron asked me. “I haven’t seen any cauldrons in the house.” “There may not be one if she doesn’t do much magic here. I imagine though that we could substitute a crock-pot to brew it.” Ten minutes of searching the kitchen however revealed neither the formula nor a potions manual. This simply told us that Millicent MacKettle relied strictly upon mother’s milk at this point. We would have to make do with what she had left us to feed the triplets. “Hold on now…this ritual thing on the arm seems like a good way to see if it’s too hot. Maybe we should write that down. It seems like a brilliant idea actually.” Ron seemed to be very pleased with himself after making this discovery. We grabbed the bottles and moved into the parlor where we had the babies laid out on blankets waiting for us. We both hoped that Harry would return soon so we could feed all three at once. It struck us as being rather mean that one of them had to wait while the others dined. Then there was the fact that if we didn’t quiet them soon, we would all be in need of hearing protection. “Ron have you noticed anything different about Harry…like what happened when Ginny handed, or tried to hand him that baby?” I waited for him to be hesitant with me, but he clearly saw that I was concerned, and he didn’t seem to be bothered at all about discussing it. “He and my sister have begun talking about starting their own family now that Hermione and I are. He’s scared senseless.” “Obviously…and with good reason. I’m terrified myself now of these three little ones.” Ron nodded rapidly at my comment, and with eyes wide as saucers. That told me he agreed whole-heartedly. “It’s a bit more complicated than that though Spense. Harry didn’t exactly grow up in a model family…far from it in fact. No one was there to show him the proper way to do things, and he doesn’t think that he knows how to be a good father. I’m not sure if all this is helping either.” I suppose that’s understandable, I thought. “Well…what doesn’t kill us definitely makes us stronger.” “It’s not us that I’m worried about dying here,” he said, entirely serious. Just then Harry almost literally staggered through the front door. He did not look happy. “No manual?” Ron asked. “There is no manual Ron. The storks don’t really bring one with the babies.” “Harry…I hate to break this to you, but storks don’t actually deliver babies, and that stuff about the cabbage patch is rubbish as well. I don’t know much else, but Hermione’s midwife made me learn that part at least. What are we going to do without a user’s manual?” “I’m not sure Ron,” Harry said, “but we need to get some help. The woman at the bookstore managed to explain diapers to me, but before she could tell me anything else, an angry crowd burst through the door wanting to burn some book–-How To Write A Bestselling Novel In Three Easy Lessons.” Oops! Oh feldercarb. Ron walked over and handed Harry the third baby and its bottle. We were both surprised when he mechanically, but expertly began the feeding. He was doing it the right way without thinking. Little Huey…yes there was the “H” on his nightclothes…quieted down immediately, and he seemed to finally be fairly content. “What about Ron’s mother?” I offered. “One of us could Apparate over to the Burrow to get her.” “Mum and Dad were invited over to southern France by Fleur’s family. They won’t be back for another week and a half. How about Madame Pomfrey?” Ron asked. “She has to know something about babies.” “Bermuda with Professor McGonagall…surfing competition.” Without looking, Harry adjusted Huey’s bib to catch a slight bit of drool. “I really can’t think of anyone. Hermione’s mother could never get here in time, and I would rather burn my broom than call my Aunt Petunia for advice. I would never hear the end of it.” “Oh lovely…we may be on our own then. Hold on, my baby is done with the bottle. What do I need to do now?” Ron asked. “I’m fairly certain that you are supposed to pat them on the back. I don’t know why, but it is probably to let them know that they did a really good job eating…I mean drinking,” Harry told him. “That makes sense,” Ron replied. Standing up, he plopped poor Louie over his left shoulder and proceeded to deliver what we thought was a very complimenting, appreciative slap to the baby’s back for his fine effort. This was almost instantly followed by a colossal belch, and then a good portion of Louie’s dinner sailing through the air and nailing me square in the face. “Maybe not quite so much admiration for a job well-done next time Ron. We are going to run out of clean shirts.” Harry said, in a completely sober voice. Somehow, we made it through that first night. Initially, we separated the three infants, reasoning that if one cried he would wake the others. For some reason, the triplets did not want to be apart from each other. Maybe it had something to do with that old story about twins and such being linked on some higher level. Every few hours we would rotate diapers, feeding, the appreciative pat-on-the-back, followed by at least a half-hour of walking the baby around (and wishing we could use a sleeping potion on them). The next morning brought a series of other challenges to us. We first made the mistake of allowing Ron to use the Muggle washing machine to launder the mountain of dirty diapers, baby clothes, and our own pile of stained shirts. He impressed all of us with his imitation of Jerry Lewis, deciding that if some laundry soap is good, then much more is far better. Millicent’s laundry room floor had probably never been cleaner. I drew the bathing detail, which turned out to be far more difficult than I would have imagined. Harry almost tackled me when I tried to bring the MacKettles’ garden hose into the kitchen. I just thought that it might speed things up a little. I suppose that using the tub wasn’t that much of a bother. The most difficult part was remembering which baby was which when we redressed them. Harry also finally had a good explanation for Mr. Weasley’s question about the purpose of a rubber duck. While he did help us with the feedings and occasional diaper, Harry at first intentionally distanced himself from the triplets. He volunteered to care for Mr. O’Leary’s horses, cook our own meals as best he could, and make the runs for additional bubble bath, laundry soap and duct tape. He even took it upon himself to arrange the transportation for Biddy’s body back to Hogsmeade until a proper internment could be organized. That was where we ran into yet another minor problem. “Harry…Spenser!” Ron yelled as he ran to join all of us spread out across the family room. We both instantly had our wands on him, giving him no misgivings about what would happen if he woke the babies. Regardless, it did not calm him down. “Do you know that dead house-elf in the outbuilding?” We silently nodded. “She isn’t in the outbuilding. The bloody nanny’s body is gone!” “What?” Harry started to yell but caught himself at the last moment. “What do you mean she’s gone?” he asked in a softer voice. “She couldn’t have just walked away! Dead people…and elves very rarely do that. It tends to draw undue attention.” “I thought that you padlocked the shed door Ron. I know you did. I saw it on there this morning,” I added. Great…another mystery! Everyone was still angry with me about that Hogwarts Express story I wrote during our seventh year. A moment later, there was an extremely loud knock at the front door of the house. We gave the babies a worried glance, and then quickly, carefully made a dash for the entry. Ron made a comment that it had better not be an elf zombie trying to get in, or he was leaving town. Peeking through the eyehole, we saw that it most definitely was not. It was a Muggle police officer. We each took a deep breath, and then Harry slowly opened the huge oaken door separating us. All of us tried to smile and relax. It didn’t work too well. “Mr. Harry Potter I believe. Constable Joseph Friday here. Mrs. MacKettle came by the station and told us that you would be staying here for a few days with their nanny. Would you mind if I came inside?” “Is there something wrong sir?” Harry asked. I doubted that either Ron or I could have spoken at that moment. “I would like to ask you a few questions concerning a criminal occurrence last evening.” Ron whimpered, and Harry and I both gently elbowed him. “Is something wrong young man?” the officer continued. “He just had some bad pumpkin juice with supper tonight,” Harry quickly offered. “Pumpkin juice? Extraordinary.” He had to know about Biddy. There was no doubt in my mind. Who had taken the body? Did the Chameleon Spell continue to disguise her after death? Worse still…had this Muggle and his associates found an actual elf? The Ministry was going to have our hides if that had happened. “Sir, can we step outside? The babies have gone down for their post-supper, pre-tantrum, and later-evening-meal nap. They are extremely light sleepers. Would that be too much of a bother?” Harry again asked for us. “I imagine that won’t be a problem. I have young ones of my own. I was astonished when Bernice mentioned the problems you were having here…and that your nanny had departed.” That immediately got all of our attention. “In fact, she is the one that suggested I speak to you regarding the riot and arson of the bookstore last night. You were there I understand.” “Yes…yes I was. She was explaining a few things about the triplets and caring for them. I don’t know much more than you do I’m sure. Suddenly they were just in there…pulling down the books and waving matches and kerosene in her face. Bernice…if that was her name…called out that I should run and leave matters to her. She said that it happened all the time with that particular author. Perhaps I should have stayed to help.” “There was no need. She was absolutely straight with you, and all she lost was a bit of carpet and five copies of the book. Written by some flippin’ Yank I understand.” Okay…okay! I would contact my literary agent and have them pulled off the shelves. “In point of fact however, it is the matter of the children that concerns me right now. My family would be more than willing to take in the babies until Mrs. MacKettle returns. It would be the easiest thing in the world for my wife and oldest daughter to care for them. I’m sure that they are nothing but a bother for you three young, inexperienced gentlemen.” I saw something then suddenly change in Harry’s expression. For a full minute, or actually probably longer, he just silently stared at the constable. He did not see the man, but rather seemed to be watching something else play out in his mind’s eye. Finally, he smiled and slowly shook his head.” “I…we very much appreciate your offer sir, and please thank your wife and daughter as well, but I believe that we have everything under control here now. You have my word that the babies will be well cared for, and when their mother returns, the three will be healthy, happy and in clean diapers and pajamas.” The policeman studied Harry for as long as he himself had been lost in thought moments before. “Somehow…I knew that would be your answer.” He shook Harry’s hand then and gave Ron and me a polite nod. “A very interesting scar you have there by the way,” he commented as he turned to go. “Yes, I suppose it is. Would you believe that I received it at the hands of an evil sorcerer when I was just a baby myself?” The man just laughed and shook his head as he walked away. “Sometimes the most misleading answer is simply the truth,” Harry whispered to the two of us, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh. The next couple of days were not without incident. Ron finally mastered the Muggle washer and dryer, but he did dive into the former when he lost sight of Dewey, and thought he was being laundered. After Harry and I pulled him from the machine, we pointed out that the baby was fast asleep on a basket of warm, clean diapers. Poor Ron looked like a drowned rat, and he was blowing bubbles for some time. With each passing hour, and each feeding/changing/sleeping cycle, we were becoming more proficient, organized, and comfortable with our charges. One night, Ron even pulled out his rosewood recorder to lull the three to sleep with a beautiful melody. We had tried to sing to them once before, but the resulting howling from all the village’s dogs resulted in a return visit and stern warning from Constable Friday. I guess that the most incredible thing was how we were starting to actually bond with the babies. Ron especially could get a response, from them and us, when he would demonstrate his wide repertoire of silly faces. I don’t know if they understood a word, but I consistently got a smile and a squeezed finger as I read stories (no…not mine) to one of them. With Harry and the triplets however, it was really special. He was constantly on the blanket with at least one (and usually more), exploring and playing as if they were some wonderful new discovery. I suppose that they were. Ron and I were in the kitchen that evening when the girls returned. Ron was giving Louie his supper bottle and trying to question me concerning Muggle magazines and why the pictures wouldn’t move. I knew that he had already had that very same conversation with Harry at least a half-dozen times. I was finishing up the dishes, hoping to have them dry before it was my turn with another baby. When I first saw their van arrive through the window, I decided that it was a good thing that we had brought O’Leary’s wagon on this trip. We would need it with all the parcels and baby paraphernalia they started to unload there. I had to admit that Hermione looked infinitely better when she walked through the kitchen door. Her color was back, as was her smile. The moment he saw her, Ron was on his feet, surrendering the baby to its mother, and rushing over to his wife. “Hermione…you would not believe the number of things that I need to do to get ready for our baby. I still have a thousand questions as well,” he told her as he carefully delivered a warm, gentle hug, followed by a pretty intense kiss. I motioned for Ginny to follow me as I went to fetch the other two babies, and to lead her to her own husband. We found the three of them asleep together in one of the parlor’s large leather chairs. I could not describe how excited she was there suddenly, but it really was a wonderful sight. We gently pulled both infants from Harry’s loose grasp and were amazed that we hadn’t awakened them in the process. Ginny carefully took their place on his lap, and when he did open his eyes finally, behind the exhaustion there was something else quite excellent. “Ginny…we need to talk…about a lot of things,” was the last thing I heard him say as I left the room. As I entered the kitchen again, I immediately saw a very frustrated (annoyed?) look on Ron’s face. He must have told them about Biddy. Hermione’s expression was…well I couldn’t exactly read it. “So, you killed our house-elf, did you?” Millicent MacKettle said in a harsh, accusing voice. I couldn’t run then…not holding two sleeping babies that way. “You never have shown much respect for them have you Spenser? None of you have,” Hermione added, becoming more and more agitated. “What? I get along great with the elves. My dentist Hermie is a former toy elf. We didn’t kill Biddy!” I stammered. “No, we didn’t Spenser,” Harry said then, coming into the room with his arm around Ginny. “In fact, she isn’t even dead. They all played us these past few days to teach us a lesson. A few of them I might venture.” From behind them stepped the elfin nanny and walking up to me she gently took Huey and Dewey, and then returned the way she had come. “What the bloody… Do you have any idea what we went through with those three?” Ron blurted out as he started to stomp about the kitchen. “Yes, we do Ron,” Millicent gently told him, “…and now so do you. It was my idea actually. It’s true that we did need this little excursion, but you all needed something as well…to learn a few important things while we were away. Please…please tell me that all of you won’t be much better fathers now.” She then looked over to Harry. “Some of us have also learned that we might be able to do it in the first place,” Harry added. Ginny was just beaming beside him. “How did you manage to deceive us with Biddy? No wait…not the Draught of Living Death? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…” “Once you had removed her outside, Biddy merely popped back in and remained out of sight, carefully watching in case you couldn’t deal with the situation. Constable Friday was a part of the plan as well. He is a Muggle, but an excellent friend of Millicent and Derwood…and he knows she’s a Witch. You all did brilliantly. I’m very proud of you Ron,” Hermione said, again hugging her own baby’s father. “No more laundry work for you however. If no one else has noticed, all the baby clothes and diapers are orange.” “This is all fine and good Hermione, but why am I here?” I asked, totally at sea. “Well you are going to be an uncle Spenser, and…you really need to have a long talk with Luna when we return home,” she said then. “Speaking of which, we have a nice, long ride ahead of us. We had best be going,” Harry pointed out. “Millicent, Ginny, and I would consider it a great favor if you thought to leave the babies at our Broom Farm when your husband returns. You and he might be able to use a little time alone as well.” Everyone decided that Harry and Ginny would be great parents after all. In fact, the Potters really have been incredible parents, as have been the Weasleys. As of the time I am writing this, the two families have nine children between them. Harry and Ginny have two wonderful boys and a beautiful baby girl, and I fully expect one or all to follow their parents and grandfather as a champion Quidditch player. One month and a day after our Sweet Haven adventure ended, Hermione gave birth to a beautiful red-haired boy, followed over time by two more sons. Both families’ respective homes lie near Hogsmeade, and not much of a walk traveling in either direction. I have notebooks filled with stories of the kids’ own adventures. The real story, however, was when a short few years later Ron and Hermione were blessed with triplets of their own. The Weasley curse was undeniably broken…all three were girls! A few years…the MacKettle boys…hmm? Mischief managed! A/N: I am dedicating this story to all the new and prospective fathers…and mothers who have experienced what Harry, Ron and Spenser did on this trip. I have two children of my own. Yes, duct tape is a wonderful invention. |
| Reviews 10 |
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