HA 2c: Reborn

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 2: Harry's Son - Reborn

Albus could not understand what was happening. From the moment he had seen that pink, flailing hand, he had ceased to even vaguely understand what was going on. Gentle hands had picked him up and faces swam above him as water sluiced down his body… only, he was so small - too small - so tiny that the hands lifted him with ease… Impossible. Searching for a point of recognition, he had delved into himself - to find his magic flickering and weak in a way he didn’t recall feeling before…

Voices were murmuring behind him. He was being wrapped in something soft and warm. Arms took him back to Ginny - and he looked up to see another unexpected face, that of Ronald Weasley… What had happened? Why had he died and gone to Weasleyland? The voices became clearer and louder.

“…No, no - I don’t mean to say that there’s anything obviously wrong, sir. He may be perfectly fine - but generally speaking, when they don’t cry, it’s a bad sign. And he’s a wee bit underweight…”

“Blimey!” he could see Ron say. “So that’s it! I thought it was a bit odd. I’ve always thought babies screamed their heads off.”

“He’s so sweet,” Ginny said softly, looking down at him with an expression he couldn’t remember anyone giving him since he’d been about five. “Aren’t you? Look at those beautiful blue eyes…”

Albus felt himself go cold. His mind was nudging towards something…

Harry beamed down at his son, and moved so that the baby could see him. Reaching out, he took hold of the baby and cradled it against his chest. He smiled down at it, crushing down the worry - he was perturbed as the Healers by the lack of sound emanating from the new-born lungs. Somehow the silence was more terrifying than the idea of any amount of screaming. He grinned more widely - no amount of worry could suppress the joy welling up inside him.

“Hello,” he whispered. “Hello. I’m Harry. I’m your daddy.”

And then tears finally began streaming down the infant cheeks. The Healers stopped moving and stared. Fred and George’s grins faded. Ron took a step backwards and Hermione’s hands went to her mouth. The blood in Ginny’s cheeks faded. Her husband clasped the child more firmly, face carefully devoid of expression but the green eyes disturbed. Nobody spoke, and there was no sound but that of faint whimpers and the choking out of sorrow. The baby continued sobbing - sobbing in a way that neither of the Healers had ever heard before from a child - sobbing in the hopeless, shaking anguish of an adult to whom it had all been just too much.