By the time the letter finished (and exploded in a shower of confetti), Harry was hiding under the table. He was blushing so red that it rivaled the legendary Weasley's. Some of the teachers at the staff table had various expressions. Dumbledore's twinkle was in overdrive; Snape sneered while giving a disgusted look; Flitwick laughed; and McGonagall was smiling. The rest just smirked at his predicament.
Hermione was shocked. Just when she thought she'd get used to the magical world, something new made an impact on her. And this… howler… certainly did that. She was pulling the confetti out of her hair while simultaneously pulling Harry back up from under the table.
Students all around them at every table, Hufflepuff's included, were laughing at him and some were calling him "Momma's boy, momma's boy!" As the laughing died down, other discussions, mostly started from girls at every table, commented on how sweet it was for him to send flowers to his mother on her birthday. And how their boyfriends could take a hint at that. Got it, mister? Yes, ma'am.
"Oh Harry, I knew you were a momma's boy, but wow, you weren't kidding," Pam teased her friend. This brought forth another round of laughter at the Hufflepuff table. This time, Harry grinned with them. He still flushed beet red but it was either laugh with them or cry alone.
Besides, he had a package to open that the other owls had dropped off and left like the good delivery owls they were. Sure enough it was a Nimbus. There was a note on top of the broom. Harry flipped it open. At least it wasn't a howler.
Awww… you get to play Quidditch as a first year, I'm so jealous, here's the broom dad and mum just bought you. Love ya bro! I told mom to not send you a Howler, but she was had a dreamy look in her eyes and humming. I don't think she was listening. Hey, guess what? We went out for dinner this entire week! It was great! Do something else that gets her dreamy for a week, okay?! I can't wait to come to Hogwarts!
Your dearest sister,
Shelia
P.S. In the bristles of the broom is a hidden rubber chicken that Dad wanted me to include. Use it wisely.
Harry smiled inwardly.
Edward gasped.
"Harry, isn't that a Nimbus 2000! Sweet." Everyone in Hufflepuff immediately came to look.
"Wow, Harry, you hit the jack-pot! Momma's boy," the prefect, Cathy-Ann, smirked, ruffling Harry's head.
"Damn straight! I can't wait to try it out."
"Wow, I never even touched one. How cool. Can I have a ride on it?"
"Is it really yours?"
"Hey, hey…" Harry said trying to control the situation and keep everyone's hands off the broom until he'd gotten the chicken out. "Of course it's mine. My mum and dad bought it for me."
"Ok, momma's boy. Don't get so touchy."
Everyone snickered at the still-beet red Harry.
Dear God, why did she have to embarrass me like that?
Two weeks later, Thursday evening, after dinner
Early October in Scotland was cool in the day and cold at night: meaning it was normal weather for the country. While the majority of the students bundled up to stay warm, Harry wasn't affected by the cold as much as he said he was if only to keep up appearances. Heat and cold did not affect shadows and not to say he was impervious to these things, but he did have a better tolerance for both. Light affected shadows most of all and that is what caused Harry the biggest problem. On a normal day, even a sunny day, he could find solace in a shadow somewhere if a headache started. But on grey days where everything had a bleached color about it, those were the worst because there were no natural shadows. Those days left Harry on edge. Night couldn't come too soon on those days.
After one of those days, and the welcome relief of night, Harry thought better than to subject his friends to his still skittish nerves and instead sought out Professor Binns.
"Professor? Got a minute?" Harry said in a polite voice.
The ghostly professor looked up from the task of grading papers and motioned for Harry to come on in. "What can I help you with, Mr. Potter?"
"It's… it's about the visions we keep having in class, sir. I know you're pleased and I've done a bit of research on history channelers throughout the centuries but haven't found anything describing how we do what it is we do. Reginald Mantle in 1645, Archibald Andrews in 1827, and J. Forsyth Jones in 1515 all have biographies written on them in the library which describes what the results were for those that attended their history classes, but nothing directly says how we do what it is we do. Or for that matter, why we can do it."
"I actually knew Archibald Andrews, Mr. Potter. He was an interesting man. He was actually the one who helped me understand my gift much as I am going to help you."
"I appreciate that, sir."
"So tell me, Mr. Potter, when we review history, what do you feel?"
"Sir?"
"Please, just humour me. You are in a vision. What are you feeling?"
"Well… disgust at the attacks mostly."
"Yes, that is to be expected. But that is a surface feeling, akin to what the rest of the class is feeling as well. What do you feel underneath?"
"Well… I want to help them. I want to move from where I'm standing and join the defence. To stop a battleaxe from cleaving a skull in two."
"You want to be involved," Professor Binns clarified.
"Yes, I want to be involved. Somehow. It's not right those people are dying in such horrific manners."
"Mr. Potter, I want to move slowly with your gift so you don't overuse it and chance to burn it out. I would like for you to think on something the next time you attend a vision. When Master Andrews took me on my first visions, he told me that it was possible to interact with history, but to do so was inconsistent at best. Keep in mind you are talking about events that happened centuries ago."
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