A LIFE, REWRITTEN

by Yih

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and am making no profit from this whatsoever.

Spoiler Alert: There are spoilers for the Deathly Hollows in this chapter and subsequent ones. Read at your own caution (none, though, explicitly mentioned).

4

The Photos

Remus had been acting very strangely for the last week, though Harry didn't know what was the matter. It wasn't even close to the full moon, which Harry had found excused a lot of the eccentricities in Remus' behavior. For some reason, Remus had kept pestering to him to tell him what he liked especially about the books he had been reading, did he like chicken or beef better, and was chocolate his favorite sweet?

Harry had given him answers to even more questions than that and was quite relieved to get away from the older wizard by going to his room and reading more tales from Beedle the Bard. He had read most of the stories already, but there were a few in particular he liked and he especially was fascinated about the story of Death and the Three Brothers. It'd be nice to have the Elder Wand, Harry thought, and the Invisibility Cloak would be useful, but what he'd really like was the Resurrection Stone so he might see and talk to his parents.

Shaking his head, Harry set the book on the stand next to his bed and rolled onto his back. He wanted to go down to the library and get a book to read, but he had read most of the books he could grasp. There were, of course, many other books. They happened to be mostly about Theory of Defense Magic and way beyond his comprehension. But what truly kept Harry from going down the stairs was the sound of Remus banging pots and pans around and the instinctive feeling that if he went down Remus would barrage him with another load of questions.

So Harry did the only logical thing, he took a nap.

- - -

Everything was done and if it wasn't perfect, it was the best Remus could do. He surveyed the dishes of food sitting on the table with a critical eye. The food didn't pretty, but it did look appetizing, at least he thought so. What really mattered was what Harry thought. Remus took off his apron and shoved it in the hamper in the bathroom before he went to his bedroom and carefully put on his best robe, the only one that didn't look worn. He brushed his hair and examined his appearance in the mirror. He looked tired, but presentable and that was the best that could really be expected.

Remus headed toward Harry's bedroom and knocked on the door, remembering how he used to yell at his parents that they weren't respecting his privacy. Funny now how he had to do the very thing he once reprimanded his parents to do. He waited for what seemed like a long time, knocking intermittently before deciding he might as well open the door. He found Harry sleeping, drooling onto his pillow. He looked quite innocent dozing there.

He shook Harry's shoulder gently. “Wake up, it's time for dinner.”

Harry looked at him groggily, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

“Dinner,” Remus said, smiling. “Aren't you hungry?”

“What time is it?” Harry asked, looking more confused now than sleepy.

“Seven, the normal time we eat.”

“Really?” Harry looked surprised. “But I fell asleep in the afternoon, somewhere around three... I slept for four hours?”

Remus shrugged. “So it would appear.”

Harry sighed and got out of bed. “Have you been working on dinner all this time?”

“Today's a special day,” Remus remarked, looking at him quite seriously. “I think you ought to know that better than anyone.”

“Is it?” Harry looked even more confused, his face scrunching up as he thought of what Remus was referring to. “It's... oh! It's my birthday.”

“Indeed,” Remus said. “Had you forgotten?”

Harry smiled sheepishly and responded with a: “Yeah.”

“Your birthdays at the Dursley's weren't that great, were they?” Remus asked softly.

Harry shook his head, not needing to say anything else and Remus knew better than to pry. If Harry wanted to tell him, he would. Remus respected a person's right to privacy greatly, if only because he would like to be treated the same way.

“Well, let's go eat your dinner, I made it specially for your birthday.” Remus scratched the back of his head and his cheeks felt a little warm. “I hope you like it.”

Harry's green eyes were bright. “I'm sure I will.”

- - -

All the effort to make Harry's lopsided birthday cake crammed with as much chocolate as Remus could feasibly add to it and still have it be called cake was definitely worth it when he saw the huge smile that was plastered on Harry's face. Harry leaped from his chair and rushed to give Remus a hug.

“Thank you! This is so great!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn't know you knew how to bake.”

Remus grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his slightly graying hair. “I don't actually. I hope it's not bad.”

“Only one way to find out,” Harry remarked, digging his fork into the cake and tasting it.

Remus watched Harry's face carefully, taking it as a good sign that Harry wasn't grimacing. He thought it must be not too bad when Harry licked the frosting off his lips. He waited anxiously, hoping Harry would like the taste as much as he'd like the effort of baking a cake.

“Your first time baking?” Harry asked.

Remus nodded. “Sorry if it's bad—”

“It's really really good,” Harry said, smiling. “I never would of thought it was your first time.”

Remus was sure Harry was exaggerating for his benefit, so when he took a bite of his cake he was pleasantly surprised. It certainly wasn't the best cake he'd had—really he couldn't compete with the house elves at Hogwarts—but it wasn't bad at all. He actually thought it was pretty bloody good, especially for a first time.

“Good, isn't it?” Harry remarked with a mouthful of cake as if he was reading Remus' own mind.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, putting another large bite of cake into his mouth. “Pretty good.”

- - -

Harry glanced down at the photo that had been tucked into the inside flap of The Quidditch Book. Remus has been surprised to see it and told him it was a picture of his father flying in the air over the quidditch pitch, raising his arm in victory as he had just scored a goal against the opposing team. His father was wearing red and gold robes and Harry had never realized how much he looked like James until now. James even had glasses too.

Harry placed the book on the table next to his bed carefully. He was glad Remus had rummaged in his old belongings for the book, thinking Harry might like it. Any kind of present, even a used one was more than Harry ever expected and to be honest, the unexpected picture really made the gift special.

He sighed and rolled onto his side so he could stare at the picture, still amazing at watching his father zooming in the picture and raising his arm in victory. Wizarding photos were quite amazing compared to the muggle variety Harry was used to seeing, mostly of his cousin, Dudley. It was like Harry was glimpsing at a small portion of his father's life, like a video clip. He supposed even muggle photos were like that, but still Harry personally thought the wizarding photos were much better.

Harry couldn't have imagined a better birthday than this one.

- - -

In the years subsequent, Harry was proven wrong many times over. On his ninth birthday, he received an entire album of photos of his parents, compiled together by Remus when he'd asked various friends and acquaintances if they had any old snapshots of James and Lily Potter. Harry knew Remus had done this because he knew how much Harry treasured that quidditch photo of his father.

Harry learned a lot about his parents from the photos. His father was a talented chaser and had led the Gryffindor team to victory in the Quidditch Cup several times as lead chaser. His father had also been an Animagus. Harry especially treasured the rare photo Professor McGonagall had taken of James changing into a stag.

His mother was equally extraordinary. She was good at almost everything she did, but especially Charms. It was her wandwork that had sealed her spot as Head Girl and it was in that seventh year that together with James as Head Boy—his parents had fallen in love. It hadn't always been like that, which Harry had found out from Remus. His mother hadn't much like his father initially, thinking him too arrogant and irresponsible, but James had liked Lily since the fifth year and he had worked hard to make Head Boy for her. It had been well worth it in the end.

Remus told him he had never seen a happier couple nor had he ever seen parents who adored their baby more than his.

Harry remembered how tears had trickled down his cheeks when he had first seen the picture of his mother holding him while his father had been dangling a toy snitch in front of him, which he managed to catch in his right hand much to his father's delight.

That was definitely his favorite picture of the family life he had once had, but couldn't remember. He had been seven months old when it'd been taken by his godfather, Sirius Black.

- - -

On his tenth birthday, Remus had procured him an old broomstick in which to learn to fly. Harry didn't know how Remus had found it, though he treasured it. Remus told him he was a natural and all Harry knew was that he loved to feel the wind in his face, to fly.

- - -

On his eleventh birthday, he got his Hogwarts letter and Remus took him to Diagon Alley under a Glamour Charm to get his school supplies. Remus even bought him his very own owl, which Harry was sure he couldn't afford, but hadn't protested overly much since Remus looked so very happy to be giving him this birthday present.

“My father bought me an owl my first year,” Remus remarked as he held the cage for Harry. “He said it was a family tradition, for the father to buy his child an owl when he went to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, looking at the snowy white owl he had chosen.

“It's nothing,” Remus said and paused. “What do you think you'll call your owl?”

“Hedwig,” Harry said suddenly, not really sure why he'd said that particularly name, but knowing it was the right one. “Her name is Hedwig.”

“Good name,” Remus replied. “Hedwig.”

Harry smiled. “Are we done?”

Remus looked down at him with very amused eyes. “How can we be done if we haven't gotten your wand yet. You haven't forgotten that, have you?”

Harry looked sheepish. He had actually forgotten, which was so very strange considering how much he'd talk about getting wand in the last few months leading up to his eleventh birthday. “I guess, Ollivander's?”

Remus nodded. “Precisely.”

- - -

Ollivander knew the moment Harry Potter arrived at his wandshop, even though the Boy Who Lived was under a very good Glamour Charm. He selected several wands for the boy, knowing that it was likely each one would be wrong until he had only one choice left, which was an eleven inch wand made of holly with a phoenix feather as its core. The brother wand of the Dark Lord's with a feather from the same phoenix, the only difference was it was made of yew and thirteen-and-a-half inches.

He was not the least bit surprised when this wand, this very wand fit Harry Potter. Of course, of course, the Dark Lord had done great and terrible things with his wand and if his wand hadn't been able to destroy Harry Potter—it was reasonable to expect great things from him as well. It remained to be seen if those things would be terrible or not.

“Seven galleons,” Ollivander stated and held out his hand as the older wizard that had accompanied Harry paid up the charge. “Good day to you.”

To be continued...

Author's Note: I sped up the timeline quite a bit, and I definitely won't be following the model for ARL all that much in regard to several characters, but let me know what you'd like me to keep the same and I'll consider it . Thanks for reading as always!