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SIYE Time:16:37 on 28th March 2024
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Oh My Darlings! Oh My Darlings!
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Alternate Universe, Peter Pan Challenge (2007-4)
Characters:All, All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 9
Summary: ** Honorable Mention in the Peter Pan Challenge **
Harry and Ginny! Peter and Wendy! Lockhart and the polar bear? A young Ginny falls asleep and dreams of a wonderful, yet extremely different land of fun and adventure. The situation becomes a bit more tricky however when a new generation tags along.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4862



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:
A/N: For those of you have never met Spenser Hemmingway, he is an American exchange student that I brought to Hogwarts for his seventh year, and who then decided to stay. I use him for perspective and to explain an American writing style. In this story he is extremely proud that his daughter is following in his footsteps. A special thanks to my bartender who helped me with the female perspective, and my sincere apologies to Mr. Barrie.




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Oh My Darlings! Oh My Darlings!

By Jennifer Hemmingway


“Reality…what a concept!”–Robin Williams



“Jenny, are you trying to tell me that you don’t want Uncle Spenser’s help writing it?” Albus shifted his weight on the garden wall where we were sitting. He picked up a small stone from atop it there and then tossed the pebble away a second later without a thought.

“I really want to try this without Dad’s help for once. I want to surprise Mum and him. I just want…”

“You just want to prove to them that you can come up with something comparable to his work, don’t you?” he asked me.

He already knew the answer. He was my best friend, and we could always read each other like graffiti painted on the side of a railcar by a drunken, near-sighted owl. My dad had published his first story when he was fifteen, and I was determined to match that, or at least try. Albie (I was the only one allowed to call him that), and I were just two weeks away from beginning our fifth year at Hogwarts, and we had just over half that time left in which to produce something for the writing contest.

“I take it you don’t have a ghost of a clue what to write about,” he added. His grin told me that he might have some ideas though. I smiled back at him, accentuating it with just a hint of my evil nature.

“Albus Potter, with your family’s daring-do and my Hemmingway tomfoolery I don’t have a doubt that we’ll come up with something great.”

“You really don’t have a single idea do you Jen?”

“Not a one. Of course, that’s when we resort to my dad’s favorite trick.”

“We talk your mum into writing it for us?”

“No…of course not silly. We’ll write about your parents again.”

“You mean we totally embellish some events from their lives.” Albus’ grin was now just as mischievous as mine. “We pick some mundane incident, intentionally change most of the facts to entertain the readers, and then spend several days apologizing to everyone. Aunt Tonks is still angry about being killed off in Dad’s seventh book.”

“A few people are,” I reminded him. Actually, Alastor Moody had been thrilled about his death since it allowed him to quietly retire finally. Dobby the house-elf was so honored by his heroic passing that he broke down and cried for days after reading it.

“So, you want to have Mum and Dad tell us a story we can sabotage?”

“We could, or…”

I bounced to my feet and started walking toward their back porch before Albie could ask me for a clarification. Naturally, he already suspected, and I heard him jump from the wall to catch up with me. I didn’t let him until we were inside his house and almost through the kitchen area.

“The vials? Jenny, you can’t do that! I know that you’re curious and everything, but those are private memories they have stored in the pensieve room.”

“You know which one I want to see Albie. Aunt Ginny has been promising to let us experience it since we were five years old. She always laughs about it when we remind her. I’m sure that she won’t mind, especially after she reads our great story.”

“Jenny!” He had a worried look on his face that somehow reminded me of Cousin Hermione, but at least he was still smiling.

I ignored him though and quickened my pace to the small room at the back of the farmhouse. Everyone had gone into Hogsmeade that afternoon, leaving us to our wicked work, but not knowing how much time we had, I wanted to quickly commit the crime and escape again. Somehow Albie must have been reading my mind. It was almost funny how we had started doing that more and more over the years.

“Jenny…I thought that we were the good guys. You realize that this is the equivalent of breaking and entering.” At the same time, however, he began searching about for that particular vial. I found it first on a back shelf.

“Here it is. We are the good guys Potter, or at least we will be after we give your folks that huge trophy from the August Challenge.” I gently picked up the bottle and held it out so we could examine the silvery strand inside. On the outside it was simply tagged Peter/Darling, whatever that meant. Who was this mysterious man in Aunt Ginny’s past that she would openly refer to as darling in front of Uncle Harry? Albus took it from me, and then approaching the Potter pensieve (inherited from the old headmaster after whom he was named), gently removed the cork, and poured in the thread.

“Last chance…are you sure?” By way of an answer, I took my friend’s hand, and together we plunged into his mother’s memory.


*****



We found ourselves in our Gryffindor Common Room, which was empty except for Uncle Harry and a very tired-looking Aunt Ginny. It was obvious that this was a scene from several years before, and a quick glance at Albus told me that he was thrilled to see a much-younger version of his parents. At the same time, there was a bit of concern about his mother’s exhausted state. I hadn’t seen her that tired since Mr. Hagrid had taken all of us camping, and his boarhound’s yodeling in its sleep kept everyone awake for two nights.

“Ginny, you really need to get some rest,” Harry told her. He plainly wanted to press his point, but kept his tone calm out of consideration for his then-girlfriend. “Even Hermione would tell you that you’re not accomplishing anything trying to study in this condition.” Ginny just shook her head and pulled the large Potions textbook closer to herself from across the large table.

“Harry, we have just two weeks until our O.W.L.s and I simply cannot comprehend how you can substitute so many ingredients in the Bowshivel Elixir and still retain its potency. I refuse to go crawling back to Slughorn for another clarification. I just would have liked it if I could break Hermione away from my brother for an hour or two to help me.”

“Not bloody likely. They seem to be grafted together at the lips these days,” Harry said, giving her a knowing smile that she returned. “I wish that you hadn’t stayed up so late last night waiting for me to return from detention.”

“It was worth it,” she said, taking his hand, and kissing the back of it. “I should have been studying then though instead of rereading that Muggle book all evening. It’s really a very good story, and Mum and Dad have even taken me to see the musical play twice.”

She yawned then, and both Harry and Albus moved a bit closer to her from different sides. I didn’t have a doubt that if we had been corporeal Albus would have joined his father in pressing the case for her to sleep. We would simply have to hope that Uncle Harry could convince her. Before he said another word, however, the portal opened, and Seamus Finnigan led a large and rowdy group of Gryffindors inside.

“I tell you the Transylvanian National Team’s win in Brighton last Saturday was a complete fluke. They weren’t supposed to be turning back and forth into bats like that anyway. My Irish team will mop the Quidditch pitch with their faces at the rematch next month,” Seamus announced in a loud voice. “Hi there Harry. You know that I’m right don’t you?”

“Seamus, I don’t think…” he began. It was too late though. Ginny had snapped her quill in half at the noise, undoubtedly irritated at the interruption. She gave Harry a sad, tired look, and shook her head in apparent resignation.

“Harry, Malfoy was looking for you a few minutes ago,” one of the other students told him. “He was gloating about your detention with Snape again tonight, and he wanted to remind you to show up.”

Harry slapped his head, obviously having forgotten about it. He turned back toward Ginny, but she was already on her feet and packing the last of her books into her bag.

“Ginny…”

“It will be fine Harry. I just need to find a nice, peaceful place to study for a few hours,” she said. “I promise that I’ll get to bed early tonight. I’m finished with Mr. Barrie’s novel. Now you had better get going so you don’t end up with another week of Snape’s company. Really, it will be all right.” Before he could reply, Ginny gave him a quick kiss (which drew loud applause and whistles from their friends), and she was out the door.

A heartbeat later Albus, Aunt Ginny, and I were standing in a strange room that I didn’t recognize. She seemed to be more than a little bit confused about the place as well. It had only one door and no windows, but otherwise seemed to be very cozy in appearance. In front of a nice stone fireplace were the only pieces of furniture–-the most comfy-looking chair and ottoman that I had ever seen. I expected it to begin speaking any moment, telling her, “Please come here and sit down.” Perhaps it really had quietly called out to her since after another moment that’s exactly what Ginny did.

“Ahhh… This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked for a quiet place to study and revise my notes, but I’ll take it…thank you.” She seemed to sink further into the chair, and I almost envied her there. “I’ll take it though.”

It occurred to me then where we were. It was the Room of Requirement. She needed a spot away from her hectic friends, and this was what had been provided. Perhaps the Room was wiser than Aunt Ginny. Just seconds after she opened her textbook, there went her head down. Further…further…and then we were gone.


*****



The next thing that we saw was a bedroom of some sort. Had the Room of Requirement changed? One thing certainly had…Albus’ and my clothes. Somehow our jeans, tennis shoes, and summer shirts had been transformed into bedclothes and slippers.

“Jenny…what happened?”

“I don’t know Albie, but your rear pajama trap isn’t completely buttoned up and I can see your tushie,” I told him, giggling but quickly averting my eyes. I really hadn’t seen anything…much, but I still had to have my fun.

“Jenny!”

“Oh, relax Albie. I’ve seen your bum before in the bathtub.”

“We were babies Jen, and if you haven’t noticed, neither of us is wearing diapers anymore. You didn’t actually see…?”

“No…no I didn’t,” I finally admitted with another giggle.

“John and Michael, will you please get back in bed both of you. I’ve finished the story and now it’s time for us to go to sleep.” Albus and I both literally jumped back a foot when she spoke.

“You can see us?” we both cried out together.

“Of course, I can,” she said with a condescending tinge to her voice. “Now bed…please.”

“Mum…I mean uhm, Ginny how can you see us? Jen, are we still in the pensieve?”

“I think that we are. I don’t know how this could be happening. No wait! We’re…Albie I think that we’re inside Aunt Ginny’s dream somehow. I mean physically in it,” I explained, trying to quickly reason out what was happening.

“What are you two talking about?” Ginny asked. “Honestly, if this is some trick to get out of going to sleep, I’ll… Nana, could you please come here and help me?”

Albus quickly took my hand and led me over to the bedroom’s large wall mirror. Looking at our reflections, we saw two young boys staring back at us with appropriately frightened looks on their faces. Yes, frightened was a good word, especially when a moment later an extremely large polar bear wearing a bonnet sauntered into the room.

“Nana, will you please help me get these two into bed,” Ginny requested. Albus and I moved so quickly you would think that our pants…I mean pajamas were on fire.

“Crikey! Where did that come from?” Albus yelled.

“She’s dreaming it,” I said. “Ginny, you don’t know us yet, but we’re…we’re actually from your future. My name is Jennifer Hemmingway, and this is my boyfriend Albus. He’s your, uhm…a relative. That is, yours and Harry’s. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to wake up.”

“Jenny no! Whatever magic is doing this, it’s probably extremely powerful,” Albus whispered. “Besides, that’s way too much information for her right now.”

He was right. This was still her memory of something that had once happened, or rather in this case dreamed. It might be dangerous for us if we altered the course of what was occurring. I had to ask one question however.

“Excuse me. Who do you think that we are?” I quietly inquired.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You are John and Michael Darling and I’m your sister Wendy. Now enough of this nonsense you two!” she demanded.

“She’s dreaming the Peter Pan story Jenny. Mum read it to me a bunch of times when I was little. I always thought that Nana was a Newfoundland dog not a polar bear,” Albus pointed out.

“It’s your mum’s dream. Besides, it will look great in our own story. For now, we need to play along Albie…I mean Michael. Hey, what are you grinning about anyway?” I asked. Before he could answer however, the nanny bear pulled the blankets over his head, and then repeated the process for me.


*****



By my reckoning, Michael (yes, I was trying to stay in character) and I were pretending to be asleep for about ten minutes before we noticed that Wendy actually was. Quietly slipping out of bed and moving to the door, we saw through the crack that the bear was curled up just outside in the hallway.

“She’s still out there? In the story, Wendy’s father is supposed to lock Nana in her kennel before they leave for the evening,” Michael pointed out.

“An enormous polar bear may sleep wherever it chooses to do so I believe.”

Michael and I moved back over toward a large wardrobe against the far wall, initially intending to hide inside so we could talk further. At the last second however, I took his arm to stop him.

“What’s wrong Jenny?”

“Call me John until this is over. If this is actually a dreamscape, we might well go inside that wardrobe and end up somewhere with snow, talking lions, and a White Witch. Now will you please tell me…what are you grinning about?”

That’s when he kissed me.

“Well you’re the one who finally admitted that I was your boyfriend,” he said after a very long, very nice minute. I suddenly understood a little more about my dad’s stories.

“I suppose this means…” I started, but something bright darting about the room stopped me in mid-sentence. Michael saw it too and pulled me further behind the wardrobe. Tinker Bell had arrived.

A moment later another full-sized figure came through the window riding one of the nicest brooms that I had ever seen. Apparently, Ginny’s subconscious was taking additional liberties with the tale. This was confirmed when the moonlight hit him revealing that it was indeed Uncle Harry cast in that role. I wracked my memory trying to remember the story, but all I could recall was something about a shadow. Fortunately, Ginny/Wendy knew it well enough for us to proceed.

Peter recovered said shadow from a spot near a chest of drawers, and while seated at the foot of Wendy’s bed, tried to reattach it to his feet using what appeared to be a bar of soap. It didn’t look as if he was having much luck and he was becoming extremely frustrated. Right on cue Wendy woke up.

“Boy…why are you crying?” Wendy softly asked as she sat up in bed. Peter leapt to his feet and reeled back defensively at her words. For a full minute, he seemed to almost be studying her. She, in turn, acted as if a visit by strange boy clad all in green was an everyday occurrence. Wendy smiled at him then, and Peter was apparently reassured by it.

“I…that is…my shadow won’t reattach. What’s your name?”

“My name is Wendy Darling. What’s yours?”

“I’m Peter Potter. Do you think that you could help me with my shadow?”

“Of course, I can.” She climbed out of bed then and seemed to be scanning the room for something. “Now where did I put that this afternoon?”

I remembered enough of the story that I expected what Wendy was looking for was her sewing basket. Albus and I both drew a quick breath when instead she finally pulled out a wand from her nightstand drawer. A quick spiral flick and the shadow was back together with Peter, who suddenly seemed exceptionally pleased with himself. Dancing around the nursery, he let out a loud crow that would be the envy of any farmer’s henhouse.

“I am so incredible!” he started chanting, which caused Wendy to deliver a What am I? Chopped liver? look. Pausing for a moment, Peter seemed to somehow revert back to Harry, all at once taking a surprised Ginny in his arms and kissing her as if he were trying to breathe life back into a drowning girl. I could tell that Albus was more than a little uncomfortable with spying on his parents that way.

“Is that in the story?” I asked him.

“What happened to the whole thing with the thimble?” he whispered back.

After about two minutes we were wondering if they were going to bother ever coming up for air. Granted, you really don’t have to breathe in a dream, do you? Finally, Tinker Bell began pulling on Wendy’s hair in a jealous snit, and breaking away, Peter was up on the table crowing again, even louder than before.

“Hush Peter, you’ll wake Michael and John,” she admonished pointing at our beds.

“Oh, they’re already awake Wendy, and Tink says that they’ve been hiding behind that large cabinet. I’m not exactly sure about what she said about the two boys kissing the way they were…” Wendy’s eyes grew to saucer-size at that. “…but then they usually have girls portraying me in all the stage productions.”

Albus and I stepped out in the open, and we gave the two a sheepish look. “Uhm…nice green tights Peter,” was all I could think to say.

♫ “I’ve got to crow! I’m just the cleverest fellow ‘twas ever my fortune to know!” ♫

The wardrobe was thrown open then, and out jumped a strange man with flawless hair and a strangely phony smile. I had seen his face somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite remember where. In a photograph perhaps? He was dressed exactly as Peter was and began to strut about in some sort of choreographed dance.

♫ “So naturally…when I discovered the cleverness of a remarkable me…” ♫

“Professor Lockhart! Please…stop,” Wendy kindly asked him. “I’m afraid that we cut the musical numbers.”

“What? I’ve been rehearsing for days,” the man replied in deflated voice.

“The man we cast as Captain Hook refused to use a stand-in the way I was going to,” Peter explained. “His singing voice is actually worse than mine. Wendy opted to omit all the music. It’s a shame really.”

Lockhart’s face fell, and his shoulders seemed to dramatically sag. Without another word, he turned and climbed back inside the wardrobe. I was again glad that we had decided not to check out its interior.

“Now, where were we?” Peter continued.

“I believe that this is where you to offer to take all of us to Neverland Peter,” Wendy offered.

“We get to fly?” Albus asked. He was as thrilled as I was at the prospect.

“Obviously…but on brooms,” Peter said. With a wave of his hand his own broom flew to his hand and then three more Muggle versions materialized on the floor before us.

“I was afraid you were going to say that. How does this work?” I asked. Peter held out his hand and the bright glow that we had seen finally came to rest there. That was when we discovered who the next cast member was.

“Aunt Luna!” Albus blurted out.

“Mum! What are you doing in that skimpy little faerie costume? Of course, I’m standing here in boy’s pajamas with no brassiere or underwear.”

“What?” Albus blushed Weasley red at that revelation. Potter men are terminal gentlemen.

Peter whispered something into Tinker Bell’s tiny ear which caused her to have another conniption fit. I had to think that it really was extremely out of character for my mother, but then it wasn’t my dream. After several seconds however, she finally gave in, delivered a large dose of faerie dust to the brooms and we watched as they sudden rose into the air. Peter climbed aboard his and then at his signal we each imitated him with our own, Wendy taking the nicest of the three. They definitely weren’t Firebolts, but they did seem to fit the story’s theme.

“John, don’t forget your umbrella and top hat,” Wendy called back to us as she followed Peter out the window. “Michael…your teddy bear. No, the one with the eyeglasses, mustache, and campaign hat that matches that American president.”

“Follow me! First Muggle weather satellite on the right and straight on until morning!” Peter shouted, and he and Wendy were gone like a shot with Michael and I wondering how we would catch up on our smaller brooms.


*****



Somehow as we flew, another scene appeared in my mind’s eye and I saw from his expression that Albus/Michael could see it as well. It was the deck of a pirate ship. We weren’t actually there the way we had been in the Gryffindor Tower or the Room of requirement. Yes, we were still flying after Peter and Wendy, but the ship was still clear as a sunny day in our heads. Whatever the magic that was affecting us, it was becoming stranger and stranger.

“Smee! What is the meaning of this? This is mutiny! Where is my crew?”

Professor Snape as Captain Hook? Percy Weasley as Smee? In those days, I guess everyone still thought of them that way.

“They’re below deck on another coffee break Captain. You did agree to seven a day in their labor contract sir.”

“Why did I ever accept your idea about replacing our men with Burundian kowtowing toadies? My crew should be swabbing the deck, battening down the hatches, or some of that other sailor stuff. We’re also scheduled to be kidnapping Tiger Lily this morning!”

“Well Captain, they do work for lattes and their constant droning did drive off all the ship’s rats. I’m sure that you and I can capture the princess ourselves sir.”

“Oh, that makes me feel ever so much more confident Smee. Wait…what is it that you have there?”

“Uhm…I’m afraid that it’s another parking violation sir. We’re still anchored in a handicapped moorage.” Smee cowered down as he spoke and jumped back when Hook snatched the citation away from him.

“Odd bods, hammers and tongs! Why won’t they issue me a permit? I qualify, don’t I?” Hook screamed as he stomped about the deck.

“Well sir, that is a fake plastic hook. You’re holding it with your hand concealed under the sheathing.”

“Silence Smee! You’re destroying my reputation as well as the storyline! It’s not my fault that someone is insisting on a kinder, gentler…”

Tick…tick…tick…

“ Hold on! Smee…what’s that sound?” Hook asked his boatswain as he quickly squatted down hiding behind the ship’s mizzen mast. “We finally dealt with that crocodile last week!”

“Yes sir, we did. You’re wearing the boots right now, and your cabin is full of luggage. I’m afraid that that nice Australian gentleman Mr. Irwin is still extremely angry with us however.”

Tick…tick…tick…

“ Go…go look to see what’s making that sound Smee! Go!”

“Yes sir.” Smee crept over to the ship’s railing, crouching low and clearly unsure of what to expect. Perhaps it was the ghost of the crocodile, returned to haunt all of them. It turned out to be much worse.

“Oh Hookie…Hookie Poo. You there…is my Hookie Poo aboard?”

Down below them, alone in a small rowboat, sat a plump woman in a pink dress and somehow resembling one of the Toadies–-Delores Umbridge. Without a word, Smee backed away and joined his captain at his hiding place.

“Sir it’s…”

“Yes, I heard. Blast! This is all Peter Potter’s fault!” Hook’s expression was a combination of anger and abject fear.

“How sir?”

“Peter lured me to Las Vegas, kept ordering tequila shooters, and then introduced me to that accursed woman. Well…it wasn’t pretty, and let’s just leave it at that. Ever since then, Umbridge has been stalking me wanting the two of us to get married.”

“The ticking sound Captain?”

“That’s her biological clock. Smee, you need to give her an excuse. Tell her that I’m not here. Tell her that the toadies ate me. Tell her anything!”

“Yes sir!” Smee stood up again, took a deep breath for courage, and returned to face her.

“Hello! Hello! Is my Hookie Poo there?” Umbridge repeated.

“I’m afraid not madam. The captain has…he’s gone into town for a shampoo and crew cut haircut.”

Smee saw the disappointment on her face and heard the heavy sigh before she once again took up her oars and departed the way she had come. The boatswain seemed very pleased with himself when he returned to the captain, at least until he saw Hook’s face.

“A shampoo and haircut Smee? Couldn’t you have come up with something believable about me? Perhaps you should have told her that I’m finally pursuing my dream of becoming a tango instructor?”


*****



After an eternity of flying, which outside of our dreamland state was probably only seconds, we found ourselves approaching a small island with a large, perfectly round lagoon to one side. Sure enough, there was the pirate ship we had just seen, an Indian village on a small mesa to the east, and in another tiny inlet there were a number of mermaids sunning themselves on the rocks. I had no doubt that they looked completely different from those we had living in the Hogwarts lake.

Peter and Wendy were well over forty yards ahead of Michael and me, and on the converted house brooms there was no chance of closing the distance. Peter pointed down at something below us, gave Wendy a quick salute, and then shot off in the direction of the mermaids.

“Don’t you dare fly away from me!” she called after him and turned the nose of her broom as if to follow. She was suddenly not at all happy, and probably even less so when a moment later a stun bolt was thrown at her from somewhere below, knocking her flying.

“Mum!” Albus/Michael yelled, breaking character, but then diving after her.

With Wendy now off her own broom, he was finally able to catch up and grabbed her hand just feet off the ground. The action slowed both of them significantly, but still they hit hard at the last second. Michael kept rolling, pulling Wendy into him and offering what protection he could. I continued to circle looking for whoever had fired the spell, but at the same time completely aware that we had both arrived without a wand. In the end, I decided that the best course was to land and tend to whatever injuries they had received from the tumble.

Two things surprised me as I alit. The first was that neither of them had so much as a scratch on them. This was no doubt because Ginny was dreaming it that way. The second was a small group of friends and family members emerging from the woods with wands pointed at us.

“Tootles, you got the bird!”

“It was an amazing shot wasn’t it Slightly?”

Uncle Ron and Cousin Hermione were respectively cast as these two. With them were equally younger versions of Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, and the Weasley twins.

“She’s not a flippin’ bird Uncle…I mean you. She’s a girl and her name is Wendy. You could have killed her!” Michael shouted at Tootles.

“You mean the Wendy bird…is that what she is…she’s not dead yet?” he asked. “Oh bother! Well I’ll just…” Before Tootles could raise his wand again, Peter snatched it away from him, and forcibly shoved the Lost Boy backward. None of us had seen him return to us.

“You heard Michael. She’s not a bird. I brought Wendy here to be our mother. She is our mother now, and you will treat her as such!”

“Albie, if you kissed your mother the way Peter did back in the nursery, we’d have to change this story’s rating,” I whispered. He nodded in agreement with great gusto.

“Uhm…then we’ll just have to make her well again, won’t we?” Slightly suddenly announced with an uncomfortable tinge to her voice. “I know. Ah yes, we’ll just put this glass thing in her mouth.” She must have meant a thermometer, but we couldn’t tell since she was pretending. It actually seemed to work, and a moment later Wendy stirred, opened her eyes, and then finally, slowly stood up.

“What happened? Where are we?” Wendy asked.

“I’m afraid that you almost died, but Slightly brought you back. He’s the one with the brown, bushy hair, and really intelligent expression,” Peter explained. “It’s almost too bad. What a great adventure dying would have been.

I looked over to Michael and he just shrugged. No one here could possibly know how Harry had more-or-less died during his final battle with Voldemort. The adventures that a boy like Peter would have had to be completely different from those of real life.

“Wendy, this is Tootles. He’s the one that killed you. These are the twins Marmaduke and Binky; this is Nibs,” Harry told her introducing Wendy to Fred, George and Neville in turn, and then finally stepping over to Seamus. “This is Curly. He’s a bit troublesome at times, especially when he keeps blowing up supper when it’s his turn to cook.”

“Now what happens?” I quietly asked Michael.

“If we’re skipping the musical numbers, now we get to build a lovely little house for Wendy.

“Maybe we could get her to fast-forward the dream past that. You know what Hemmingways are like around power tools,” I reminded him.


*****



Someone must have heard me because the next scene we were witnessing in our minds was Peter and Wendy together in a forest glade.

“Take that! And that! And that!”

“Peter, you really don’t need to keep saying that every time you kiss me now,” Wendy said with a laughing lilt in her voice. She pulled back then, but he kept hold of both his hands and stared into his eyes. Wendy and Peter, or Harry and Ginny, it was abundantly clear that the two were very much in love.

I knew enough about the Peter Pan story to remember that those two didn’t end up together at its conclusion. I was also fully aware that a short time after this memory Harry would break up with Ginny at Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. They would quickly reunite when Harry realized the depths of his feelings for her, but their relationship remained a great secret for almost another full year. Private scenes such as what we were watching would have to become the norm for them.

After a minute or two, Peter released one of her hands and the two began to stroll off across the clearing, apparently with no destination in mind. They just seemed to be enjoying the beautiful day and the lush green forest that surrounded them. I had to wonder then if what we were experiencing was a Peter Pan dream or one about Harry and Ginny, and simply in that story’s setting. If my mum as Tinker Bell was out of character, then this Harry was far more so in the role of the adventure-seeking, self-centered Peter.

“Your island is so beautiful Peter. I never want to leave this place.”

“Maybe that’s one of the reasons that they call it Neverland Wendy; that and because here you never have to grow up. Here we can stay young forever, just playing and having great adventures.”

“Is that what you really want Peter?” In lieu of an answer, he simply walked on in silence for another minute.

“What would you like to do today Wendy? We could go visit the mermaids again…”

“No thank you! I’ve had sufficient exposure to your girlfriends. It’s bad enough that Tinker Bell keeps trying to kill me.”

“Then maybe we could challenge some Indians.”

“Peter, I believe that the correct term is Native Americans.”

“In point of fact, the correct term is Cleveland Indians. The baseball team uses the island as an alternative site for their spring training. You’ll see in a moment. I hear some of them coming this way,” Peter told her, pulling Wendy behind the cover of a large tree. Seconds later, nine men in game uniforms emerged from one side of the forest, ran across the glade, and disappeared again into the woods. Each of them was carrying a large baseball bat in a threatening manner.

Considering what we had been seeing in the story so far, the plot twist should have made perfect sense, but something was suddenly bothering me. I wasn’t exactly sure what, but I made a mental note to discuss it with Michael/Albus.

“They seem to be extremely agitated about something Peter,” Wendy pointed out after they had passed. “Perhaps the New York Yankees are coming to visit.”

“No, they’re not permitted in Neverland…and neither are the Pittsburg Pirates for obvious reasons. I wonder… Come on!”

Peter grasped her hand again and led Wendy at a run down a side path that quickly led to another tiny cove. Whether it was part of the dream’s plot or Peter’s correct guess, they spotted a medium-sized boat with a securely-bound Parvati Patil in the rear. She was the wrong kind of Indian but casting her as Tiger Lily made as much sense as anything else. At the oars was the pirate Smee, and, for the moment, Captain Hook was nowhere to be seen.

Sneaking as close to the water as they could without being spotted, Peter gave Wendy a playful grin. He then motioned for her to watch and enjoy the show. Drawing a wand, Peter stretched out his neck, and then pressed the wand’s tip against his voice box.

“Smee, you infernal codfish! Release Princess Tiger Lily at once,” he called out with his best Snape/Hook imitation.

“Captain? Where are you? We just went to all the trouble of capturing her!”

“I said release her Smee…now! The Indians are about to play an exhibition game against the White Sox, and I hate them even more. The home team needs their mascot back. Do it now!”

“Yes sir! Yes sir! Right away sir!” Smee said doing his own imitation, but in his case of a Burundian kowtowing toady. Beaching the row boat, he quickly untied Tiger Lily and then helped her step ashore. She looked back just once to blow a kiss, and Smee naturally thought that it was meant for him instead of a waving Peter Potter.

Smee began to struggle with putting the boat out again and was therefore totally oblivious to the real Hook’s approach. Viewing the scene before him, notably their captive’s absence, his eyes grew wide and facial color closely resembled either a ripe plumb or Harry’s Uncle Vernon on a good day.

“Smee you fool…where is the princess?” he bellowed, causing the boatswain to jump.

“Oh, excuse me Captain. I didn’t see you there. I released her just as you told me to do.”

“You did what?”

“For the Indians’ exhibition game with the White Sox sir. She’s their mascot, remember?”

“Exhibition? You idiot! The White Sox are playing the Cubs in an inter-league game today! They’re televising it at the village pub at three o’clock!”

If Peter’s grin was mischievous before, it was outright evil now. He gave Wendy another quick kiss and returned the wand point to his throat.

Tick…tick…tick… Oh Hookie Poo, it’s me…Delores. Come give me a big kiss you hunka, hunka burnin’ love you! I’ll let you tie me up.”

Contrary to popular opinion, not all motorboats are faster than the rowed variety. To see Hook take those oars and speed off in that thing, you might have expected someone to be able to water ski behind it.


*****



Michael and I found ourselves again on the other side of the island just outside the entrance to the Lost Boy’s hidden home. Looking up we saw Peter and Wendy approaching on their brooms and wave down at us. The two exchanged a long kiss, and I saw that Michael was still uncomfortable at the sight. Knowing my adopted aunt and uncle the way I did, I was surprised that it wasn’t a commonplace event for him to witness.

The Hemmingway monkeyshines overwhelmed me just then, and I reached over and gave my new boyfriend a nice kiss of his own. Seeing what appeared to be two little boys doing that prompted the expected response in both Peter and Wendy, but then how would she react if his role had been cast using Mary Martin or Kathy Rigby? Wendy came to earth and gave us both a threatening look, but then turned to wave to Peter as he sped off on his broom again.

“He’s gone to the Indians’ ball field for a celebration of sorts. Tiger Lily intentionally didn’t invite me,” Wendy explained. Then without another word, she approached the hollow tree with the fat lady carved in the side, gave the password and went inside.

A few moments later Michael and I entered the adjoining hidden cavern behind her, and that’s when everything went black. Someone dropped a thick bag over my head, grabbed my arms, and bound my wrists. I could just make out the muffled cries of the Lost Boys, and I thought I could hear Wendy using a few choice words that I can’t include in a family story. The clearest thing that I could make out was the chant of “koo-fi, koo-fi!” We had been captured by Hook’s pirate toadies.

Barely another second seemed to pass for me before the bag was again pulled off, and we found ourselves tied to the Jolly Roger’s masts. As I expected, Wendy was already walking the plank but looking back to give Hook her famous Weasley-Potter glare. I was surprised that his face hadn’t melted off.

“How did you do it Hook? How did you find their home?” she defiantly called out to him.

“Actually, it was the easiest thing in the world my dear. You see, you have a traitor in your mist…a very diminutive one. I’m afraid that Peter’s faerie is not especially fond of you. I doubt that she expected all of you to be taken, but life is just full of pleasant opportunities, isn’t it? Another such is the little present that I left young Peter in his medicine bottle. It’s a difficult potion to brew, but a very satisfying one. It turns a person’s blood into peanut butter. Hmm…that actually is poetic come to think of it.”

Two of the Toadies with cutlasses began to prod Wendy to move further out on the plank. If I remembered the story correctly, Tinker Bell was currently redeeming herself by drinking the poison, and then Peter would have to get the entire audience to clap their hands to save her. Would he arrive to rescue us in time? Had Albus/Michael and my presence in the dream altered things at all? If Ginny died in her own dream, would that somehow trap us there? I looked over to Michael and saw that he had the same determined expression that Wendy was displaying.

“Mum listen to me! You need to save us! You can do it!” he shouted.

“Michael, I don’t believe that now is the best time to resume your silly pretend games. I’m not really your mother!”

“Yes, you are! Your name is Ginny Potter and I’m your son Albus Severus Potter! I have an older brother James Sirius and a little sister Lily Doreen. John is really my girlfriend Jenny Hemmingway. Mum you’re dreaming all this!”

“Michael…” A sharp poke with a cutlass forced Wendy back a step, but had something in her eyes changed? Was there was a shred of doubt rising?

“He’s telling you the truth Aunt Ginny. That’s why you saw Albus and me kissing that way. Peter is really Uncle Harry. Please trust us! Control your own dream!”

One of the toadies lunged forward just then with its sword, and I knew it was too late. I averted my eyes as she went over, but something else caught my attention. My ropes were gone, and I had a wand in my hand. She had done it! I brought it up and pointed it at that same pirate toady, but Michael was faster. The frog was blown across the deck by a heavy stun bolt.

A second later, in dramatic fashion, Peter rose above the ship with a smiling Wendy on the broom behind him. Without warning he threw down a large espresso machine which crashing there, drove the kowtowing toadies into a frenzy. Gently depositing Wendy onto the deck, he took off into the air again darting about the ship firing spells left and right. Tootles and Slightly were each throwing pirates overboard as fast as they could engage Stupefy bolts. The twins were relying more on their acquired cutlasses than they were the wands, but with similar results.

One pirate clubbed Michael with a belaying pin that dropped him to the deck with a bloody gash on the side of his head. Something changed in Wendy’s demeanor then, and I think a part of her was able to recognize him as her little boy. The offending Toady was transformed into a white rabbit and she personally threw it into the water for any passing lawyers. Just as I reached Michael, I was amazed to see that the head wound was quickly healing right before my eyes. Evidently it was more of the dreamscape’s magic…or Aunt Ginny’s.

Despite their superior numbers, Burundian kowtowing toadies are notoriously poor warriors and pirates. Fighting together, we were more than a match for the frogs, and it only took minutes to clear the deck of them. Finally, there was only Captain Hook and the boatswain Smee standing before us. Hook had as fierce a look on his face as Wendy had earlier. In one hand, he held a large wand, and in the other a very ornate rapier. Peter and Wendy stood together holding hands, but amazingly their own wands were still lowered.

“Good form Peter…good form, I must admit,” Hook told him. Obviously, neither Albus nor I had ever met Severus Snape, but if half the stories I had heard about him from that time were true, then this really was the most brilliant of the dream’s casting. I also knew how much Albus wanted to tell everyone the truth about the man. I had heard him tell Wendy/Ginny his middle name.

Each side continued to try to stare the other down, but in the end, it was Peter who acted first…he smiled. He simply offered Hook a sly, triumphant grin. It clearly enraged the pirate who raised his sword then and charged him. That was when Peter let out a loud, sharp whistle.

Crack! Tick…tick…tick… Delores Umbridge Apparated there between the two, causing Hook to stop dead in his tracks. A couple quick flicks of her wand disarmed and bound the pirate captain. She then tossed him over her shoulder somehow, nodded to Harry and Ginny, and Disapparated away with her own new boyfriend. We had won…as if there was ever any doubt. Good will always defeat evil in my stories.

“Well I guess that you’re going to kill me now,” a frightened Smee finally said in a quiet, resigned tone of voice. “It’s too bad. I really was a good pirate.”

“No…I don’t think that we’ll do that; not if you promise to find a more honorable career,” Harry said. “You know, that Pittsburg team was actually advertising for a new mascot themselves, and you already have the costume.”

There was that strange feeling again. I had to talk to Albus about it when we were alone again.


*****



Without a flash or anything so theatrical, Peter, Wendy, the Lost Boys, Michael, and I found ourselves back in the nursery. Ginny must be getting ready to wake up and had skipped our wild broom rides back there.

“What now?” Michael asked for both of us. We knew that this was the sad ending where Peter flies off and Wendy grows up without him.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to have to leave all of you and return home to Neverland. I don’t belong in this world, but I think that all of you do again.” Peter addressed this last comment to the six Lost Boys, or actually five boys and Cousin Hermione. He stepped over to Wendy then, and took her in his arms. The ensuing kiss caused Michael to once again shake his head and clear his throat.

“How’s your skull? Are you really completely healed?” I asked him, trying to divert his attention.

“Terribly painful. I may need constant nursing over an extended period.”

“Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?” He did, and a moment later we had joined Peter and Wendy in their favorite activity.

“I’m sorry. I heard what you said back on the Jolly Roger and all, but watching you kiss your little brother that way is just…creepy,” Nibs told both of us with a scrunched up face.

“Don’t worry, I really am a girl in disguise and Albus here definitely is not my brother,” I explained, but not until several seconds later. Looking over to the window, I saw that Peter was already aboard his broom. He gave Wendy one long last look, released her hand, and was gone.

Wendy stood there staring after him for a full minute, and then another, and still another after that. She was plainly contemplating something very serious if her rigid posture and nodding head were any indication. At long last she turned to confront Michael and me, smiled and then hugged each of us in turn.

“If you really are my little brothers, please tell Mum and Dad that I’m sorry and that I love them. Regardless, thank you very much. Please, could someone remember to feed the polar bear?” Picking up and boarding her own broom, Wendy hovered there for three or four seconds, waved, and took off to join Peter in his life and adventures.

“Well Jenny, Uncle Spenser’s version of my dad’s story is different from that Muggle biographer’s seventh book. I suppose that you could write it this way.” Albus took my hand then, smiled at me and with a sudden rush we were back in his family’s pensieve room. Fortunately, we were also back in our own clothing. It felt great to be wearing underwear again.

“Ahem.”

Turning around we came face-to-face with Albie’s and my parents.

Busted!


*****



Over the next week, when we weren’t carrying out our punishment (painting the Potters’ smaller barn), Albus helped me produce the Challenge story. The evening before we were to submit it, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny invited my family over for its first formal reading.

“Not bad kiddo…not bad at all. It really is a great story even if you had to do all that to get it,” my dad said. I could really tell that he was extremely proud of me, and not just because of his huge grin. It was too bad that I had to tell him what I suspected.

“You should know it Dad. You wrote it, didn’t you? Aunt Ginny, you set Albie and me up. You knew that we would sneak a look at that memory someday and you faked it as a joke on us.” Everyone’s embarrassed expressions told me that I was probably correct, especially their reactions to seeing my hurt look. I hadn’t written anything original after all.

“Sweetheart, it’s not what you think,” Mum finally said, putting her arms around me.

“Yes, I did create that memory thread, and that’s not even exactly…entirely what it is,” Aunt Ginny continued. “I did have the dream about Peter Pan when I was about your age, but it was completely different from the one you saw. It’s entirely unique for everyone.”

“It’s interactive,” Uncle Harry clarified. “You see when Ginny created that memory, when she fell asleep and dreamt it, she was in the Room of Requirement. The nature of the Room’s magic allows it to change things for whatever the occupant requires…literally. Somehow there was residual magic in that thread, so whoever views it in the pensieve influences how the story proceeds with their subconscious minds.”

“That’s why there were puns about baseball and a televised game in the dream. Albie and I did that. Aunt Ginny didn’t even know what baseball was during her fifth year. You really didn’t write the dream’s script Dad?”

“No Cricket I didn’t.”

“All right then, I do have another question. I can understand most everyone cast as they were, but Mum why were you Tinker Bell?” I asked.

“That’s easy Jenny,” Aunt Ginny answered for her. “Your mum was the only one of my friends that actually believed Tinker Bell truly existed back then. You really disliked the nightclothes?”

“I didn’t mind them…much. By the way Albie, that’s a cute mole you have on your derrière.”

“Jennifer! You said that you didn’t look!” he yelled.

“Hee, hee, hee! Mischief managed!
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