Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Like every other boy his age, Bert Potter is a pain in the neck to most adults. Feeling like an adult, but not quite one yet, he believes that the world is his to explore; his to conquer – and woe is to the one who would try and stop him. Today, it was especially so, because he just received his driver’s license. Oh, he just couldn’t wait to hit the road, to rip the tar with his tires! Itching to get into his new jeep, he impatiently tried to ease his mother’s apprehensions.
“Don’t WORRY mom, I can drive. The guy wouldn’t give me the license if I hadn’t passed the road test!” pleaded the teen.
“Harry, tell him he shouldn’t drive that thing, please, he’s too young! Why do they allow such young and careless boys to drive!”
“Relax, Ginny, you’ve seen cars before. It might not be as safe as broomsticks, but they’re not that bad!”
“Broomsticks?” said Bert astonished. It always happened, his parents kept referring to weird things like that.
“It’s nothing,” his dad said quickly, but Bert could catch the sad glimpse he gave his mother. It was always the same when they let that weirdness slip. Sometimes he wondered what kind of life these two had before he was born, but he was way too busy with his self appointed job of being a teen to try and find out.
Mom’s worries having been alleviated, Bert was finally driving his cool machine on the highway. Not strictly concerned about where he’ll end up, he didn’t look at the road signs, but rather concentrated on the road itself, and the car, of course. Boy, the car had so many features! Controllers for the front windows, the back windows, the roof, the heater, cooler, stereo… he was in a heaven that smelled of leather and plastic. By the time he considered worrying about where in the world he was at, he realized that he was not far from his uncle George and aunt Ellen’s house. Why not stop by and show the car to his cousins?
Uncle George.
He was the only uncle who’s house he ever visited. All his other uncles and aunts visited them a lot too, as well as a number of his parents’ old friends, but he never saw where they lived. Somewhere in the back of his mind he always wondered about that. They all dressed strange and acted funny, not knowing how to work the silliest gadgets, like the toaster, for example.
Bert parked the car in his uncle and aunt’s driveway. Squealing the breaks noisily, he made sure they all heard him and would come to look at how cool his car is. Looking up at the house, he saw that not only were uncle George and his family there, but uncle Ron and aunt Hermione were there too, visiting. Great, he thought, now I can also show my jeep off to cousins Brian and Claire!
Not wanting to waste time Bert skipped over to the house and waved for everyone to come right over and check out his prize.
“Hey Bert,” uncle Ron yelled as he walked over, “ nice car!”
“Is this your early birthday gift?” asked Claire excitedly, “we’re all coming to your house tomorrow to celebrate your seventeenth birthday, it’s a special occasion, and you’ll be coming of age.”
“Of age? What do you mean?” asked Bert.
“Muggles don’t come of age ‘till they’re eighteen,” Hermione said.
“One day you’ll tell me what Muggles mean, right?” Bert smiled at Hermione.
“Yeah, but let’s get inside now.”
As everyone was getting inside, Claire and Brian stayed outside pretending to still look at the jeep.
“Bert, we have to tell you something,” Claire said quietly, “let’s take a drive and talk.”
“Your parents might kill us for telling you this, but your whole family are witches and wizards,” Brian said
Bert looked at his cousins speechless.
“Well, except for Ellen, George met her at the Muggle paper shop where he enchanted her with his magic tricks.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Bert smiling stupidly. He knew they must be pulling his leg.
“We think it’s time you found out who you are; who we all are.”
Claire and Brian told Bert everything: all about the magical world, and everything his father did to save it, and everything that happened afterwards.
When Harry and Ginny Potter got married after the war, there was never a happier couple in the world. They spent all their time together, working at Gringotts in the daytime, flying on their broomsticks in the moonlight. They built a beautiful house in Hogsmeade Village, complete with a garden full of magical plants that would hum romantic tunes to them when they got home from work. They had everything they ever wanted except for a child of their own. The years went by, and they tried everything from charms to potions, until finally they were expecting a baby.
The day Bert was born, the whole wizarding world was celebrating. His cute baby face was all over the newspapers and magazines. And the potter family could not be happier.
Three years later, Bert and his parents were at St Mungo’s Hospital seeing a great healer, trying to figure out why Bert was unable to fly his toy broomstick, or use his toy wand. And why he never showed any magical ability at all.
Healer Bones gave them the sad news, “I’m sorry, Mr. And Mrs. Potter, your son is a squib.”
Harry and Ginny stood gaping at the Healer. How could that be? How could THEIR child be a squib? What will happen to him? Growing up as a squib is no fun, even for a boy whose parents are not world famous. What will happen to Bert? Images of Filch and Arabella Figg came to their mind as they looked at each other in shock. No! Our son will NOT be a sad lonely squib in a magical world!
That same night, Harry and Ginny Potter and their son Bert disappeared from the magical world and a new family moved into a Muggle street.
“And since that day, they stopped using magic. They became Muggles, like you.” Claire concluded.
“Well!” Bert felt mice running up and down his spine. “Well,” he said again, gathering his wits, “ it sure sounds like a good story, but I just don’t buy it!”
“Weren’t you ever curious about why your dad has a scar on his forehead?” asked Brian.
“You mean the one he got in the car crash when he was a baby?” Bert's voice seemed to be fading, he felt the ground disappearing from under him and his knees shook.
"Is that how he told you it happened?" laughed Brian
“Can a car give you such a perfectly shaped wound and right in the middle of your forehead?” asked Claire looking at Bert intently.
Bert hadn’t realized he was sweating until he tasted the salty drop on his upper lip.
“no, I didn’t think so,” said Claire softly, “so if it ever bothered you, if you ever wondered about it, now you know the story behind your father’s scar”
“Don’t WORRY mom, I can drive. The guy wouldn’t give me the license if I hadn’t passed the road test!” pleaded the teen.
“Harry, tell him he shouldn’t drive that thing, please, he’s too young! Why do they allow such young and careless boys to drive!”
“Relax, Ginny, you’ve seen cars before. It might not be as safe as broomsticks, but they’re not that bad!”
“Broomsticks?” said Bert astonished. It always happened, his parents kept referring to weird things like that.
“It’s nothing,” his dad said quickly, but Bert could catch the sad glimpse he gave his mother. It was always the same when they let that weirdness slip. Sometimes he wondered what kind of life these two had before he was born, but he was way too busy with his self appointed job of being a teen to try and find out.
Mom’s worries having been alleviated, Bert was finally driving his cool machine on the highway. Not strictly concerned about where he’ll end up, he didn’t look at the road signs, but rather concentrated on the road itself, and the car, of course. Boy, the car had so many features! Controllers for the front windows, the back windows, the roof, the heater, cooler, stereo… he was in a heaven that smelled of leather and plastic. By the time he considered worrying about where in the world he was at, he realized that he was not far from his uncle George and aunt Ellen’s house. Why not stop by and show the car to his cousins?
Uncle George.
He was the only uncle who’s house he ever visited. All his other uncles and aunts visited them a lot too, as well as a number of his parents’ old friends, but he never saw where they lived. Somewhere in the back of his mind he always wondered about that. They all dressed strange and acted funny, not knowing how to work the silliest gadgets, like the toaster, for example.
Bert parked the car in his uncle and aunt’s driveway. Squealing the breaks noisily, he made sure they all heard him and would come to look at how cool his car is. Looking up at the house, he saw that not only were uncle George and his family there, but uncle Ron and aunt Hermione were there too, visiting. Great, he thought, now I can also show my jeep off to cousins Brian and Claire!
Not wanting to waste time Bert skipped over to the house and waved for everyone to come right over and check out his prize.
“Hey Bert,” uncle Ron yelled as he walked over, “ nice car!”
“Is this your early birthday gift?” asked Claire excitedly, “we’re all coming to your house tomorrow to celebrate your seventeenth birthday, it’s a special occasion, and you’ll be coming of age.”
“Of age? What do you mean?” asked Bert.
“Muggles don’t come of age ‘till they’re eighteen,” Hermione said.
“One day you’ll tell me what Muggles mean, right?” Bert smiled at Hermione.
“Yeah, but let’s get inside now.”
As everyone was getting inside, Claire and Brian stayed outside pretending to still look at the jeep.
“Bert, we have to tell you something,” Claire said quietly, “let’s take a drive and talk.”
“Your parents might kill us for telling you this, but your whole family are witches and wizards,” Brian said
Bert looked at his cousins speechless.
“Well, except for Ellen, George met her at the Muggle paper shop where he enchanted her with his magic tricks.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Bert smiling stupidly. He knew they must be pulling his leg.
“We think it’s time you found out who you are; who we all are.”
Claire and Brian told Bert everything: all about the magical world, and everything his father did to save it, and everything that happened afterwards.
When Harry and Ginny Potter got married after the war, there was never a happier couple in the world. They spent all their time together, working at Gringotts in the daytime, flying on their broomsticks in the moonlight. They built a beautiful house in Hogsmeade Village, complete with a garden full of magical plants that would hum romantic tunes to them when they got home from work. They had everything they ever wanted except for a child of their own. The years went by, and they tried everything from charms to potions, until finally they were expecting a baby.
The day Bert was born, the whole wizarding world was celebrating. His cute baby face was all over the newspapers and magazines. And the potter family could not be happier.
Three years later, Bert and his parents were at St Mungo’s Hospital seeing a great healer, trying to figure out why Bert was unable to fly his toy broomstick, or use his toy wand. And why he never showed any magical ability at all.
Healer Bones gave them the sad news, “I’m sorry, Mr. And Mrs. Potter, your son is a squib.”
Harry and Ginny stood gaping at the Healer. How could that be? How could THEIR child be a squib? What will happen to him? Growing up as a squib is no fun, even for a boy whose parents are not world famous. What will happen to Bert? Images of Filch and Arabella Figg came to their mind as they looked at each other in shock. No! Our son will NOT be a sad lonely squib in a magical world!
That same night, Harry and Ginny Potter and their son Bert disappeared from the magical world and a new family moved into a Muggle street.
“And since that day, they stopped using magic. They became Muggles, like you.” Claire concluded.
“Well!” Bert felt mice running up and down his spine. “Well,” he said again, gathering his wits, “ it sure sounds like a good story, but I just don’t buy it!”
“Weren’t you ever curious about why your dad has a scar on his forehead?” asked Brian.
“You mean the one he got in the car crash when he was a baby?” Bert's voice seemed to be fading, he felt the ground disappearing from under him and his knees shook.
"Is that how he told you it happened?" laughed Brian
“Can a car give you such a perfectly shaped wound and right in the middle of your forehead?” asked Claire looking at Bert intently.
Bert hadn’t realized he was sweating until he tasted the salty drop on his upper lip.
“no, I didn’t think so,” said Claire softly, “so if it ever bothered you, if you ever wondered about it, now you know the story behind your father’s scar”
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