“A Mother’s Lullaby�
Written By: Amarisa
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing but this story. Everything else belongs to the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling, anyone at Disney in connection to the song, anyone in connection to the movie Beaches (which I’ve never seen but heard the song is in there), and Bette Midler.


Life at number four, Privet Drive, was nearly perfect. It was quiet, peaceful, a place where not a blade of grass or leaf on a tree was out of place, and a place that housed a loving family of three. The husband, Vernon Dursley, a round, pompous man with high morals, a huge mustache and no neck; a wife, Petunia Dursley, a horse-faced woman who seemed to be built like a stick with blond hair and who always loved to be the first to announce the day’s gossip; and a one-year-old boy, Dudley, where the term “baby fat� hardly did him justice. Mr. Dursley had a well-paying job at a place that made drills while Mrs. Dursley remained a homemaker who kept the house neat and tidy. At the same time, she raised their son who, in their opinion, “was the finest boy anywhere.� Everyday it was the same monotonous routine before bed, which seemed to satisfy the family greatly. Everything was perfect, until they found a baby their doorstep.

The baby, as it turned out, was the son of Petunia’s late sister who, for reasons the small family refused to inform anyone curious, died a most mysterious death with her husband, leaving Petunia to care for the child. It should be known that the boy’s parents were wizards, which plagued and angered Petunia’s family greatly, for they loathed everything that was not considered “normal.�

“I don’t know what that… that man thinks we should do, but I say we drop him off at the nearest orphanage around and leave him there! Reedham Asylum or Bisley Boys Refuge even! Anywhere but here! I will not have – their kind – in this house and endangering my son!�

“Vernon, there’s no need to shout. Dudley’s sleeping.�

Instantly, Vernon lowered his voice. “We cannot keep him, Petunia. I forbid it!�

“I assure you, dear, I want nothing to do with the child,� Petunia hissed as she dropped the baby into Dudley’s old bassinette. The bassinette, it should be known, was already much too small for the new baby. It was a wonder that the boy didn’t wake up. “But I’m not going to take any chances on that man returning. We will raise the boy, give him only what he needs and be done with him. Keep him hidden, we don’t want the neighbors to be suspicious.�

“That does not excuse the fact that he’s…. he’s…. different!� Vernon roared. At that, the baby awoke.

Petunia let out an aggravated breath of air and took the baby in her arms, patting him firmly on the back.

“Then we’ll stamp it out of him!� she snapped. “Heaven forbid he ever becomes what my – perfect sister – was.�

Somehow, though both Petunia and Vernon didn’t quite know how, the baby fell back asleep. When they saw this, Petunia replaced him in the bassinette and she and Vernon went down to the cellar so they wouldn’t wake their precious Dudley as well.

“What an odd name, Harry,� Vernon growled. “No honor in it. You said already it was a nasty, common name.�

“Indeed. But getting back to business, we have to do something with the boy.�

“Take him to an orphanage already! Just as I suggested before!�

“That won’t do,� Petunia sighed exasperatedly.

“And why won’t it?!� Vernon roared again. “Petunia, what was in that letter? Why won’t you show it to me?�

“I can’t, that’s why! You must not see. It will only make you angrier. Now, suppose we find a nice place to hide him away in, yes, out of sight, so the neighbors won’t see him.�

“I still don’t like it. He shouldn’t be our responsibility.�

“But he is, Vernon, and there’s nothing we can do about it! We’re stuck with the brat!�

“FINE!� Vernon roared. “But that boy HAS to learn manners, rules! I will not have him rampaging all over my home with that nonsense. We’ll do as you said, stamp it out of him. Maybe then we’ll get some peace around here!�

“Alright, Vernon. You don’t need to tell me twice. We’ll clear out that cupboard, the one beneath the stairs, place him there. Make it so he won’t complain. In fact, we’ll make it so he won’t ask any questions. His parents died in a car crash, that’s what we’ll say. And that hideous scar of his will be from it.�

“Then we’re settled. The best thing we can do is give him some of Dudley’s old clothes as he grows out of them, so we won’t have to spend any money we don’t need to. We’ll only give him what’s necessary, out of the goodness of our hearts. Then as soon as he’s old enough, ship him out. And this had better work, Petunia, for all our sakes. I do not want him to be a nuisance in this household!�

But little Harry was not a nuisance, not in the way that most people think. He never cried, not in the incessant ways babies do sometimes, he always had a smile on his face and a laugh in his heart. To any on-looker, he was an angel. However, to the Dursleys, he remained a daily grievance.

“That boy needs a changing again!� Vernon would yell. And when Harry cried from hunger, he would yell because of that. Vernon never once touched the baby, only Petunia. One would think that she, in caring for a baby, would grow to love it, yet that was not the case. She resented Harry and when she wasn’t watching him, all her attention would be on Dudley. Harry, being the smart baby he was, noticed this and began yearning for attention, even going as far as attempting to play with some of Dudley’s toys he never seemed to touch anymore. That would result in Dudley crying, Petunia yanking the toy away from Harry, a good spanking following, and Harry would cry and whimper off in his own little corner with his broken hand-me-down toys and spiders as company.

As time passed, the smile on little Harry’s face began to fade. He’d whimper more than he used to and cry for his “Mum� and “Dada.� Vernon would sneer at him when he did this, for Dudley’s first word was “won’t!� while Harry’s was the simple words of parents that babies commonly spoke when they were finally able. Not Vernon’s Dudders, no sir, Dudley was special, a fine boy and incredibly smart. Harry was nothing more than trouble and a waste of time, it reflected in his choice of first words. With such actions directed towards one so young and in need of love, it affected Harry greatly. Until one day, he would not stop crying.

“SHUT THAT BOY UP, PETUNIA!!� Vernon bellowed.

“I’m trying!� she shouted back. “He simply won’t stop crying. I don’t know what’s the matter with him!�

“Well you’d better find it! Or that boy will be smacked so hard he won’t be able to cry anymore!�

Finally, distraught and aggravated over the current situation, Petunia dropped Harry into the bassinette and slammed the cupboard door shut, taking the extra measure to lock it just in case he decided to crawl about. After all, they did not want him roaming the entire house while they were asleep for who knows what kind of mischief and mayhem he’d get into. No, it was better to lock him away and deal with him in the morning.

With that accomplished, and thankful for the muffled noise, as well as the fact that throughout everything Dudley hadn’t awoken from his sleep, Petunia and Vernon turned out all the lights and walked upstairs. They kissed their son good night, once again reveling over how fine a boy he was, and retired to their own bedrooms.

“He’ll cry himself to sleep,� they reasoned.

But little Harry continued to cry.

With each passing hour, Harry’s voice broke shrilly through the house, his tears matching each intense outburst. It seemed that the longer he was left alone, the stronger his cries became. Until something odd happened.

The cupboard door opened.

At first there was nothing there and it seemed the door had opened magically. Although, even with Harry living there, if anything magical happened it was merely dismissed as the wind or some shift of the house. However, the fact that the door had unlocked and opened on its own accord seemed to classify as strange. Add everything with the noise that followed, soft and clear that seemed on a completely different plane than Harry’s lamenting and therefore overriding it, then this incident seemed not probable and very nearly impossible. Yet it was happening.

It started soft, a mere repeating whisper that didn’t seem to finish. Although, each time it occurred, it seemed to gather strength and clarity and before long, a name was discernable.

“Harry…�

But Harry didn’t seem to hear or else he couldn’t hear because his cries continued just the same. Again, the voice called to him and again he didn’t notice.

Finally, it seemed as if the voice was right beside him. “Hello, Harry,� it said. “Stop crying, I’m right here…� A female form appeared in the doorway, silvery and translucent. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her face perfectly and nearly illuminating her vivid green eyes. Usually, as Harry will find in years to come, any bit of color on a ghost will appear as some shade or tint of grey. Therefore, for a ghost, which is most certainly what this female figure was, to have green eyes is most peculiar indeed.

“Do you remember me, Harry?� she asked with a saddened smile. “Do stop crying.�

Still, it seemed he could not hear her.

“Harry, love,� she tried again. “It’s Mummy, don’t you remember me? I’m right here…� she reached out and lightly brushed across his brow, forgetting for a moment and seeing her fingers disappear beneath his skin. He shuddered at the touch, for a ghost feels deathly cold, like ice, and he only seemed to hiccup and cry more. “Oh, please don’t cry, Harry… please don’t…� She lifted her fingers from his forehead to the point where he would only feel soothing coolness. This seemed to calm him some.

Doing what can only be the equivalent of a ghost sigh as a few nearly invisible tears fell from her eyes, she settled herself beside the bassinette and started to sing a song she’d heard growing up; a song she was now passing to her son. Her voice was soft and soothing as she sang:

Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine
Little one when you play
Pay no heed what they say
Let your eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine
If they knew all about you
They'd end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they'd give just for the right to hold you
From your head down to your toes
You're not much, goodness knows
But you're so precious to me
Sweet as can be
Baby of mine

When the song had finished, Harry was fast asleep, his tears long since ceased. The figure smiled and let her hand hover over the baby’s body, cooling it from many hours of crying.

“Please remember,� she stated as her hand rested above his lightning-shaped scar. “We both love you dearly. Not a moment will go by that we won’t be watching over you. Stay as sweet, as smart, and as good as you are now. Do what you feel is right, not what is easy. Don’t let anybody get to you, always keep your chin up and always believe that magic is all around you. And when things look bad, remember where you came from.� She stopped, a saddened expression crossing her face. “We’re so sorry we had to leave you like that,� she continued. “But you have a gift now, one that will keep you safe. Use it well, dear Harry. It’s mine to give to you. Perhaps one day we’ll meet again. Until then, please remember that your father and I will always love you unconditionally.�

With that, the figure vanished, the door shut quietly and re-locked itself, and the boy inside dreamt of a time lost. A time where things were right in the world, where his parents were smiling over him as they tickled and cooed, a time where he didn’t know the horrors of Dudley or his aunt and uncle.

When morning came and Petunia finally opened the cupboard door, she was greeted with a very changed baby. She stood aghast, staring at Harry with his eyes shining and grinning in such a way that it lit up his face. He laughed a high baby giggle that would send even the toughest man alive to pieces, and reached with his stubby arms towards his aunt.

Petunia stood there, not quite knowing what to do. Her motherly instincts told her to pick the boy up and coo at him, but then common sense kicked in and she simply hoisted him to her hip, carried him to Dudley’s old highchair and left him there with cheerios to keep him occupied. All the while, Harry smiled.

***

“Harry, what are you humming?�

Harry glanced up at his friend. “Oh, that. It’s nothing, Hermione, just something I heard a long time ago.�

“What is it?�

“I don’t know. I’ve forgotten the words.�

“Then why do you hum it?� Ron asked.

“Because it’s always there. Ever since I can remember, I’ve always heard it. Sometimes I think I hear it on the wind, but then I shrug it off.� He looked at his friends, blushed a bit because he knew how insane it sounded, and returned to his Divination homework.

“It’s very pretty, whatever it is,� Hermione commented. “Can’t you remember any of it?�

Harry looked up at her from his lying position on the floor, his quill poised in mid-stroke. “It’s been nearly 15 years. I told you I’ve long forgotten the words.�

“Oh, come on, Harry. Can’t you at least try? It even sounds familiar to me.�

Harry sighed and flipped onto his back, staring straight up. He watched the light of the fire dance across the ceiling and ran the notes through his head as many times as he could. It was a long time since he tried remembering the words, and it seemed just as long before he answered her.

“… but you're so precious to me… sweet as can be… baby of mine…�