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Note: This fic was written as part of a fic exchange of the Rigel Black Chronicles. It was based off of a platonic soulmate AU between Harry and Snape, but quickly turned into an excuse to write about Harry and Archie as children. Please enjoy.
Harry and Archie stare at the cauldron under the watchful eye of Diana. “Bubble, bubble, boil and churn, let this slimy sludge turn gween.”
Harry adds a fistful of dandelions to the pot in the kitchen. Harry frowns. She did this with mommy yesterday and it worked only after the dandelions were added.
“Archie and Harry,” Diana began, “would you mind washing your hands and cracking some eggs for me?”
Archie bolts to his feet, ecstatic that his mother has given him a job. Archie dances to the sink and begins scrubbing his hands while singing a jaunty tune. Harry dawdles, trying to figure out what happened to the potion this time.
Diana brushes past the potion and reaches for one of the high shelves of spices. Harry wrinkles her nose. She hopes there won’t be any cayenne.
Harry gasps, The potion was green! Harry turns toward Archie to celebrate and freezes. Just a moment ago, the potion was a stubborn brown. But there was no bubbling or smoke like yesterday. Also this shade of green is closer to new spring growth and yesterday’s matched Mummy's dark green slippers. Harry frowns, Did Aunt Diana color the potion? Had mummy? Harry’s shoulder is jostled and Archie exclaims, “Hawy we haffto cwack the eggs,” Harry stands there dumbly, “wash your hands silly!” Archie twirls away in his black frilly dress. Harry sets to scrubbing her hands. There is no reason to break Archie’s heart without proof. He doesn’t need to know that their mummies are just babying them. Just like when mummy tripped during a footrace to let her win. Harry clenches her jaw, wills the tears away, and scrubs furiously up to her wrists. Harry feels a tingling, similar to ants crawling on her forearm, and scrubs more vigorously.
“Hawwy, Look! The potion is gween!” Archie tugs incessantly at her robe. Harry smiles at Archie and does her best to put the whole matter out of her mind.
Well after dinner, and just after Harry has brushed her teeth, but before her bedtime story Harry rolls onto her side and asks, “Mummy do you think I’m a baby?”
Mummy says, “No, not just any baby. You’re my baby.” Lily leans in to buss her brow and moves the bang out of her eyes. “And you always will be.”
Harry feels a soothing warmth creep into her smile and then shakes her head. “No, mommy! I mean. The potion Archie and I made with you. We made it change color and bubble. But did you do that?”
Mommy swings her legs up onto the bed and crosses them so that she’s facing Harry, “Oh Honey, potions are quite dangerous for small children. There is a lot you need to know. Not all of the interactions are as harmless as changing colors. Some of them can cause serious injury for whoever is brewing.”
“But that would mean it wasn't real. Mommy why didn't you just tell me?”
“Because I want you to be happy sweetums." Harry looks up at her mom, her and lets some moisture gather, "But you can pwotect me, wight?"
"Whenever I am near you, whenever I am watching you, not a single strand on your hair will be harmed.” Lily leans in and taps her nose.“Then I can experiment when I’m with you!” Harry starts sitting up in her excitement.
Mummy’s look hardens. “Harry. Experimenting with potions is dangerous. Only Potions Masters and their apprentices are allowed to do potions experimentation. You will need a lot more knowledge about ingredients, and potions before you can begin following recipes. Making deviations from that brew you will need even more knowledge. If you’re interested, I can talk with Remus about doing some brews that might be useful or fun that are not dangerous.”
Harry leans back into her pillow, clutches her Griffin to her chest and mumbles, “I would like that.”
Lily pulls up the blankets to her chin, and tucks her in gently. “Good night my forever baby.”
Harry drifts off to sleep, with images of bubbling cauldrons in her head.
The next morning finds Remus, Harry, and Archie seated around a table in the Potter’s dining room. Papers of drawn letters lay strewn about the table, and Archie has been spinning his pencil across the table the past five minutes. “Uncle Wemus, are you going to wead us a stowy?” Archie asks.
Remus shakes, his head, “I think it’s time for a break outside. Archie lets out a whoop and runs to the backdoor. “Stay in the yard, Archie!” Remus calls out.
Harry shuffles her papers for the third time, and Remus says, “Is everything alright Harry?” Harry tilts her head and looks at her Uncle, confused. “You usually notice when Archie is getting antsy before I do and suggest a break. Is there anything on your mind that you want to share?”
Harry bites her lip, “Mummy… I found out that mummy was turning our potion green.” Remus nods, “Well I didn’t know and I don’t want Archie to know, cuz then he’d know that Mommy and Aunt Diana were lying to us.”
“Harry, did you tell you mum?” Harry nods. “Well potions are quite dangerous, and a lot can go wrong. What your mum did was to protect you.”
“But it wan’t real!” Harry burst out. “I want to make real potions that change color on their own. How else will I learn unless I see real interactions?”
Remus smiles, and says, “Fortunately we have a solution. But first you will need to learn your letters better. See, all potion recipes are written down. And carefully reading and reviewing the recipe before you attempt to brew it is absolutely essential. Harry, I know a lot about potions, but the way to truly understand potions is to understand their ingredients and how they interact. Experts write down their opinions and theories which is how beginners like us can understand potions better.”
“But writing is so hard!” Harry whines. “I want to make potions now.”
“Harry,” Remus says sternly, “You need to learn your letters first. We can review potions together, but you will need to improve your writing, copy the recipe, and be able to read it back to me. Perhaps, by Christmas we can make a prank potion for your dad.”
“Christmas! But that’s six months away. I think I can be ready by all hallow’s eve.”
Remus taps his chin, “I make no promises Harry. If your letters are not legible enough, or if you can’t read the recipe, then we will wait until you are ready.”
Harry puts the last of the crayons in the tin. “I will be.”
Over the next month, Harry applies herself to learning letters as though they were clues to a treasure map. Remus incorporates potions into the letter learning, much to Archie’s dismay.
“A is for…?” Remus asks
“Auguwey!” Archie shouts.
“Aesop’s flower,” Harry says.
“Excellent! Now go on and write down how you think they are spelled.”
Archie murmurs to himself, “Ackyureh, achyoura, acura, Ogure, Auguray This is hopeless," Archie rests his cheek on his arm. “Uncle Wemus can’t I just draw it?”
“No, Archie. You need to at least try to spell it. I don’t expect you to get it correct, but I would like you to try.” Archie peaks over at Harry’s paper. Displayed prominently were A. C. O. and P. Archie nodded and sent pleading eyes over to Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Archie put his hands together. Harry placed a hand on Archie’s shoulder and shook her head. His head hit the table.
“10 more seconds!” Remus called out. Archie scrambled to write letters down. “Alright, let’s see what you wrote down. Your word was Aesop’s flower Harry. Let’s see how you spelled the plant.”
“This is a tricky word. Do you hear how weird the beginning syllable sounds? Do you think there’s only an “a” there?”
They shake their head. “What other letter do you think is there?”
“E” Harry says.
“Right,” says Remus. “And what letter comes after e in Aesop?”
“S” says harry.
Remus tilts his head. “Harry why didn’t you spell Aesop with an “e” and an “s”?’
Harry looks down at her hands. “I always draw it backwards,”
“Harry, fear of doing it wrong will not help you improve. It’s alright if its not perfect. What matters is that you keep trying.”
“But why does it matter if they aren’t perfect? As long as people know what I mean, isn’t that good enough?”
“Potions matters would ignore you if you wrote your “e”s backwards. Or if you forgot to put an e in Aesop. Now Harry,” Remus leaned in. “I bet you can get this right if you spend five minutes copying “e”s and five minutes copying “s”s.
Harry sighed and Remus straightened up. “As for you Archie, you got really close, but you should choose an easier word next time.”
Archie looked at Remus in horror. “No. Auguweys are adowable. They desewve to be chosen.”
“Alright, alright. Let me see how you spelled it.”
The next ten minutes Harry spent copying e and Ss while Archie argued about the spelling of one of the ugliest wild birds in all of great Britain. Archie had come to the conclusion that if spelling is made up by “experts” than if he became an “expert” he could change spellings too to confuse adults. Remus left the room, exasperated and said, “I’ll grab the pudding. You can take a break from practicing Harry.”
“Stupid adolts.” Archie mumbled. “I think your wetters are better.”
“You think so?” Harry looks closely at her work and groans, “half of them are backwards Archie.”
Archie grabs a marker from the middle of the table, passes it to Harry. Harry smirks and nods. Archie shouts into the kitchen, “What fwavor is it?”
“Lemon,” Remus calls back.
“Can’t we haff chocwate?”
“I’ll have to make the chocolate pudding.” Remus begins
“That’s fine,” Archie giggles, “We can wait.”
Remus pokes his head out from the kitchen, his eyes are narrowed in suspicion. He glances between the two of them, and Harry pretending to draw a picture with her marker shouts, “Don’t look at it,” and covers it with her arms.
Archie swings his legs on the stool, his smile displaying one of his missing front teeth. “Archie, why don’t you come and help me make the pudding.” With a cheery wave and a wink, Archie hops off the stool and skips to the kitchen.
Harry pulls down her left sleeve, and hurriedly writes “Aesop” on her forearm. Harry readjusts her sleeve and settles back satisfied, finishing her drawing for Remus. A minute later a feeling like ants crawling on her forearm makes her brush them off, but the feeling persists. Harry frowns. Perhaps her guilty conscious is making her feel crawling bugs. Harry pulls her sleeve up and is startled by writing that has appeared below her own.
“It's written Aesop.” Harry looks back at the first page and realizes that she again drew the e and s backwards. It would hardly help if her reference was not right. And then freezes. How did the writing appear on her arm?
----
The next month finds Harry penning the letters of the alphabet down on paper, sounding out words with two too many syllables, and doing her best to master the language as quickly as possible. Most afternoons, during her supposed naptime, Harry practices writing on her left forearm with a green marker and lines that slowly become more straight, curves which become round, and letters which become smaller. Her fourth birthday had come and gone and Remus had gifted her an alphabet book with a different plant for each letter as well as a picture of each ingredient, and whole sentences describing how the plant liked to grow and how it was used. Her mysterious penpal did not respond, but Harry had other things to focus on than the mystery of her armpal. For example potions. Fall was fast approaching and Remus had not even mentioned which potion they would be brewing. "Uncle Remus," Harry says on an afternoon after they played werewolves and cubs, "I think I'm ready to start learning real potions."
Remus sat down heavily on the arm chair, and Harry stood in front of him. "Alright. How about we work on the hair rising potion and once you know the steps well enough to tell me what to do, then we can make it. I will do the knife work and I will control the fire, you can do the rest. Your writing and reading have really come a long way since you started. Good work harry."
. Remus leaned forward and ruffled Harrys hair.
"Stop that, I won't need the potion if you keep doing that." Harry says.
"Well then," Remus remarks, settling back into his chair, "I guess there's no reason for us to make the potion."
Harry squints at him, and then nods. "Uncle Remus, you are not allowed to touch my hair again."
Remus chuckles, "alright Harry".
-- The next day during their lessons, Remus brings his potion making book that he used as a first year at Hogwarts. They open up the book and look at the recipe together. Harry and Archie copy each word down and Remus then has them read it aloud. 1) Bring the water to a b, boil." Harry takes a breath, "and srush," harry stops, "crush the billiwig stingers"
"Good job Harry," Remus says, "Archie what does the next part say?"
"Add billiwig stingurs and spider wegs, let stew for one five... no for five and ten minutes." Archie scrunched his face in disgust. "Are we supposed to dwink this?"
"No Archie," Harry giggles, "You add it to your hair."
"Oh good, I would need two swices of cake to fix the taste," Archie says.
"Good job Archie!" Remus says, "And you were very close with the time; it is five and ten minutes, but we say fifteen minutes. Harry?"
Harry giggles, "Oh, step three. Add rat tails and continue to stew for thirty minutes."
Remus turns to Archie and nods at him, "Go ahead Arch."
"Wemove from heat, let cool, and spit in hair." Archie paused. "Uncle Moony, what's that word?"
"Spritz," Remus says, "it means spray."
"They coulda just said that," Archie grumbles.
His foot starts tapping a tune on the chair leg and Harry says, "Thanks for going over the potion Uncle. Can we take a bweak and have a snack?"
Remus leans in and looks from the right to the left. "I thought you'd never ask. I hid cake from Sirius in your parent's cupboard. How about we have a slice for a snack?"
Archie's eye go wide and he leaps to the kitchen, "last one there will get the smallest slice!"
Later that day, and after practicing a few times on a piece of scrap parchment, Harry writes in her neatest penmanship, "I am going to brew the Hair Raising Potion," on her forearm. A few minutes later the spiky writing appears on her arm. "Don't read Bonagage."
The following weekend Harry spends Saturday morning in the potter library, looking at books from the very small potions section. Harry painstaking pulls down each of the books at a time to discover which one will unlock the secrets of the why Bonagae is bad. After the first twenty books in which Harry reads each table of contents and sees no reference to Bonagage, Harry leans back in her chair, trying to rethink her strategy. There has to be an easier way to figure out why Bonagage is a bad potioneer. Harry frowns. Perhaps this is related to the Hair Raising Potion. Maybe books on the Hair Raising potion would help her figure out how Bonagage is wrong. Harry places the twenty books she went through on the right side of the table and pulls one out at a time. After the seventh book, Harry finds a Hair Raising Potion which is written by Fleamont Potter. That's her dad's grandfather! Harry follows her finger over to the page number. 158. Harry gulps. She should be able to find 158, right? Harry carefully pages her way to 158 and finally finds the Hair Raising Potion. Success! Harry then carefully reads the ingredient list at the top. 250 mL water, Harry frowns, she doesn't remember the 50 in the other potion.
Harry runs over to their play room, grabs a couple of blank coloring pages and a marker, and runs back to the library. Harry hurries back to her spot and freezes. The page has a different picture on the opposite side. Harry looks down at the page number, and it says 120. What page was she on, and was it bigger than 120? Harry sighs and flips back to the front to find the table of contents. After another 5 minutes of reading and flipping, Harry finally finds the correct page number and holds the opposite page down with an extra book. Harry slides her finger down to the ingredient list, carefully sounds out each word and then copies it onto her page. "Water, two five zero em eL." Harry says out loud and carefully transposes to her page. "Porcupine quills (1) one (crushed) Rat tails, sliced (2). Two, billiwig stingers crushed, and twenty and four spider legs." Harry looks at her page carefully and back at the book, making sure she wrote down the correct ingredients. Harry ran back to the work room and grabbed the page she had copied from Remus' first year text book a couple of days ago and scurrries back to the library book.
Harry's eyes darted between the two recipes. They were different? No porcupine quills in the one from Uncle Remus and less water. How could there such a large difference between the two if they were called the same potion? Harry taps her marker on the table. Should she ask her mysterious armpal? No. She will figure out how there can be such a disparity between the recipes on her own. Perhaps Remus will allow her and Archie to make both potions. Harry smirks. She will write her penpal once she figures out why Bonagage is an idiot.