Over the Potters pumpkin patch, the sun was slowly rising. A faint golden glow bathed the hills and hedgerows in the distance. In the valley, the lights of residences in the little town of Ottery-St-Catchpole would soon be blinking on like fairy lights.
Harry turned from the window, gently pried the empty milk bottle from his sons tiny fingers and kissed the babys forehead through a shock of fine black hair. Henry Albus Potter at eleven months had a grip to match any World Championship Seeker's, as well as a hearty appetite that surpassed those of his two older siblings James and Lily. As his son drifted back to sleep in his arms, Harry pondered how best to negotiate his way up out of the cushy armchair that had been a wedding present from Hagrid. Covered in shaggy fur, it was a huge hit in the Potter household for the comfortable armrests that hugged you in. But it occasionally had a petulant tendency to refuse to let you go. Oh, and it growled unless you scratched its side, which Harry had just begun to do with his free hand when he was startled by an urgent rapping at the door.
Hagrids armchair did growl, but had to make do with a quick pat, as Harry leaped to his feet, balancing a lightly snoring Henry at his chest. In two strides he crossed the cottages living room to open the front door.
At the threshold stood a haggard-looking Hermione Weasley. Harrys second oldest friend actually looked it this morning. There were dark circles under her eyes, some mysterious dirt on her cheeks and chin, and her bushy hair stood up in odd places as if shed been gripping it frantically all night. As Harry stepped back to let her in, he noticed a big orange shopping bag in her hand...
Harry turned from the window, gently pried the empty milk bottle from his sons tiny fingers and kissed the babys forehead through a shock of fine black hair. Henry Albus Potter at eleven months had a grip to match any World Championship Seeker's, as well as a hearty appetite that surpassed those of his two older siblings James and Lily. As his son drifted back to sleep in his arms, Harry pondered how best to negotiate his way up out of the cushy armchair that had been a wedding present from Hagrid. Covered in shaggy fur, it was a huge hit in the Potter household for the comfortable armrests that hugged you in. But it occasionally had a petulant tendency to refuse to let you go. Oh, and it growled unless you scratched its side, which Harry had just begun to do with his free hand when he was startled by an urgent rapping at the door.
Hagrids armchair did growl, but had to make do with a quick pat, as Harry leaped to his feet, balancing a lightly snoring Henry at his chest. In two strides he crossed the cottages living room to open the front door.
At the threshold stood a haggard-looking Hermione Weasley. Harrys second oldest friend actually looked it this morning. There were dark circles under her eyes, some mysterious dirt on her cheeks and chin, and her bushy hair stood up in odd places as if shed been gripping it frantically all night. As Harry stepped back to let her in, he noticed a big orange shopping bag in her hand...
Oh boy Gina! WhoooHooo - can't wait!!! Bring it, baby!!!
