Fic: Lost Boys 2/14 - Little Boy Lost (Harry Potter)
Title: Lost Boys, 2/14 - Little Boy Lost
Rating: FRT (PG)
Distribution: Sure. Let me know where it’s going.
Summary: Past and present are about to meet in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Set not long after the epilogue to Deathly Hallows.
Thanks to lady_clover and clavally for comments on early versions of this section, and to sniggs for a fascinating extended discussion that helped me quite a lot.
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I own nothing in the Potterverse, or anywhere else, for that matter. Strictly for entertainment, and no profit is being made. Please sue somebody else.
The boy introduced here, though-- he is mine. Please ask before you borrow him.
Prologue - Two Dads
Part 1 - Visions of the Afterlife
A sound roused him. Labored, frightened breathing. A terrified child would sound like that. He drifted curiously toward the sound. Just as he coiled his power to begin his cold and repelling charms, he caught snatches of a desperate, whispered monologue.
“You’re a right idiot, David Dursley,” he heard the boy mutter. “You’ve no business here at all-- none. It’s not natural, not for the likes of you, no matter what Dad says. Gran’s right. You’re a freak, and not just at home. Everywhere. Why, you can’t even keep your wand lit up with that light thingy spell....”
“That ‘light thingy spell’ would be lumos, Boy.” The ghost surprised himself by demonstrating with his own wand, even more than by speaking in the first place. He chuckled a little as the light flared up in the pitch black corridor and the boy nearly jumped out of his own skin. He waited as the boy’s eyes grew accustomed to the light again, and he saw a certain relief wash over the pale features as the child realized he was no longer alone in the darkness.
“Perhaps if you troubled yourself to learn the correct incantations, you would have more success,” he continued, in the same low, sarcastic tones.
The boy was very small, he noted. The words “first year” came unbidden to the ghost’s mind. Also, once the little fellow had got over his initial shock, he seemed to have an overabundance of that resilience and foolhardy boldness that, he dimly recalled, had once been the bane of his existence.
“Hullo. You’re one of the ghosts, I guess. Have we met? I’ve seen your face somewhere before, I know it.”
“I doubt that, young man,” the ghost replied, with an icy sneer. “I certainly have never laid eyes on you before this day, and I sincerely hope I never do again.”
“It was in a book, I think,” the boy said, scrunching up this eyes as if trying to remember.
The idea was unsettling. The ghost had never much known or cared who he had been in life. In fact, he found the loss of his identity oddly comforting. But now, after two minutes alone with this strange boy, all kinds of old thoughts and feelings began to flicker through his mind, none lingering long enough for him to grasp. The ghost scowled at him. The boy noticed the look then and seemed to recollect his manners. “Er, I’m David. David Dursley. Hufflepuff.”
Hufflepuff. The word was familiar, but the ghost pushed the feeling aside to scowl more ferociously. “And what are you doing so far out of bounds, Mr. Dursley from Hufflepuff?”
The boy grimaced. “I’m lost. 'Cause I stayed too long in that library after all my friends left for class, and then James told me Potions was in the dungeons and I should just keep going down and I couldn’t miss it, but I must have and....” He sighed. “I’m hopeless.”
“Or you should know better than to trust anyone named James,” the ghost replied thoughtfully, from another dim memory of his own life.
The boy chuckled sadly. “Yeah, I’ll say. He does like to play tricks. But it’s not his fault I can’t find my way out of a wet paper bag with a guide dog and a map. I’m just hopeless.” He paused, then sighed, “So hopeless, in fact, that I am in the process of missing my first ever class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wonder how long before they chuck me out?”
Hogwarts. That was familiar, too. Mixed emotions there. Home, the only one he’d ever really known. But a place of constant torment, irritation, burdens, and toward the last, unremitting fear and loathing. He couldn’t bring the details to his mind, and he sensed he was rather glad he couldn’t. Another familiar word too....
“Potions, did you say?”
The boy was looking at him, hope lighting up his small face. “Know where it is?”
The ghost shrugged. “I might have, once. I have forgotten a great deal.”
“Does that happen, from bein’ a ghost and all?”
“It did to me,” the ghost replied shortly. “Now, if you could bring yourself to be silent for a few moments, Mr. Dursley....”
The boy subsided, and the ghost stared off down the dim corridor for a time. He could almost see the doorway he wanted. He drifted off down the corridor in the direction the boy had come, allowing old instincts to guide him to a stairwell.
“Here, I think,” he announced when they reached it. “This stairwell should take you back to the dungeons proper. Your classroom should be in a hallway two rights and then all the way down a long hallway, left, then right. Can you remember that?”
The boy just stared at him blankly. “I, that is, er....”
The ghost gave a long-suffering sigh. He longed for more peaceful drifting, but he sensed he would get no peace at all until he returned this boy to the world above.
“Oh, come along,” he growled at last. “Follow the light of my wandtip.” He himself vanished, to be replaced by a small globe of blue light. “And I want your solemn promise, Mr. Dursley, not to reveal my presence, nor this place, to anyone, even if you could find it again.”
The boy nodded, looking thoughtful. “Sure. Sometimes I like to be alone, myself,” he said quietly. He followed as the blue light led him back up to the inhabited corridors, growing ever dimmer until, hearing voices of a class letting out around the corner, it winked out altogether, and the boy rejoined his classmates.
Part 3 - Detention
Rating: FRT (PG)
Distribution: Sure. Let me know where it’s going.
Summary: Past and present are about to meet in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Set not long after the epilogue to Deathly Hallows.
Thanks to lady_clover and clavally for comments on early versions of this section, and to sniggs for a fascinating extended discussion that helped me quite a lot.
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I own nothing in the Potterverse, or anywhere else, for that matter. Strictly for entertainment, and no profit is being made. Please sue somebody else.
The boy introduced here, though-- he is mine. Please ask before you borrow him.
Prologue - Two Dads
Part 1 - Visions of the Afterlife
A sound roused him. Labored, frightened breathing. A terrified child would sound like that. He drifted curiously toward the sound. Just as he coiled his power to begin his cold and repelling charms, he caught snatches of a desperate, whispered monologue.
“You’re a right idiot, David Dursley,” he heard the boy mutter. “You’ve no business here at all-- none. It’s not natural, not for the likes of you, no matter what Dad says. Gran’s right. You’re a freak, and not just at home. Everywhere. Why, you can’t even keep your wand lit up with that light thingy spell....”
“That ‘light thingy spell’ would be lumos, Boy.” The ghost surprised himself by demonstrating with his own wand, even more than by speaking in the first place. He chuckled a little as the light flared up in the pitch black corridor and the boy nearly jumped out of his own skin. He waited as the boy’s eyes grew accustomed to the light again, and he saw a certain relief wash over the pale features as the child realized he was no longer alone in the darkness.
“Perhaps if you troubled yourself to learn the correct incantations, you would have more success,” he continued, in the same low, sarcastic tones.
The boy was very small, he noted. The words “first year” came unbidden to the ghost’s mind. Also, once the little fellow had got over his initial shock, he seemed to have an overabundance of that resilience and foolhardy boldness that, he dimly recalled, had once been the bane of his existence.
“Hullo. You’re one of the ghosts, I guess. Have we met? I’ve seen your face somewhere before, I know it.”
“I doubt that, young man,” the ghost replied, with an icy sneer. “I certainly have never laid eyes on you before this day, and I sincerely hope I never do again.”
“It was in a book, I think,” the boy said, scrunching up this eyes as if trying to remember.
The idea was unsettling. The ghost had never much known or cared who he had been in life. In fact, he found the loss of his identity oddly comforting. But now, after two minutes alone with this strange boy, all kinds of old thoughts and feelings began to flicker through his mind, none lingering long enough for him to grasp. The ghost scowled at him. The boy noticed the look then and seemed to recollect his manners. “Er, I’m David. David Dursley. Hufflepuff.”
Hufflepuff. The word was familiar, but the ghost pushed the feeling aside to scowl more ferociously. “And what are you doing so far out of bounds, Mr. Dursley from Hufflepuff?”
The boy grimaced. “I’m lost. 'Cause I stayed too long in that library after all my friends left for class, and then James told me Potions was in the dungeons and I should just keep going down and I couldn’t miss it, but I must have and....” He sighed. “I’m hopeless.”
“Or you should know better than to trust anyone named James,” the ghost replied thoughtfully, from another dim memory of his own life.
The boy chuckled sadly. “Yeah, I’ll say. He does like to play tricks. But it’s not his fault I can’t find my way out of a wet paper bag with a guide dog and a map. I’m just hopeless.” He paused, then sighed, “So hopeless, in fact, that I am in the process of missing my first ever class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wonder how long before they chuck me out?”
Hogwarts. That was familiar, too. Mixed emotions there. Home, the only one he’d ever really known. But a place of constant torment, irritation, burdens, and toward the last, unremitting fear and loathing. He couldn’t bring the details to his mind, and he sensed he was rather glad he couldn’t. Another familiar word too....
“Potions, did you say?”
The boy was looking at him, hope lighting up his small face. “Know where it is?”
The ghost shrugged. “I might have, once. I have forgotten a great deal.”
“Does that happen, from bein’ a ghost and all?”
“It did to me,” the ghost replied shortly. “Now, if you could bring yourself to be silent for a few moments, Mr. Dursley....”
The boy subsided, and the ghost stared off down the dim corridor for a time. He could almost see the doorway he wanted. He drifted off down the corridor in the direction the boy had come, allowing old instincts to guide him to a stairwell.
“Here, I think,” he announced when they reached it. “This stairwell should take you back to the dungeons proper. Your classroom should be in a hallway two rights and then all the way down a long hallway, left, then right. Can you remember that?”
The boy just stared at him blankly. “I, that is, er....”
The ghost gave a long-suffering sigh. He longed for more peaceful drifting, but he sensed he would get no peace at all until he returned this boy to the world above.
“Oh, come along,” he growled at last. “Follow the light of my wandtip.” He himself vanished, to be replaced by a small globe of blue light. “And I want your solemn promise, Mr. Dursley, not to reveal my presence, nor this place, to anyone, even if you could find it again.”
The boy nodded, looking thoughtful. “Sure. Sometimes I like to be alone, myself,” he said quietly. He followed as the blue light led him back up to the inhabited corridors, growing ever dimmer until, hearing voices of a class letting out around the corner, it winked out altogether, and the boy rejoined his classmates.
Part 3 - Detention