A Mother's Catalog 1 (HP "Waifu" Catalog Commission) (Patreon)

Harry furiously panted, doing his best to catch his breath after the latest round of Harry Hunting. It was the beginning of June, and Dudley and his ‘friends’ were of the opinion that they needed to catch up on all the fun of tormenting him before their holidays really got started. This particular morning had been the worst.

Still, he’d managed to outrun them, even if it meant running to a part of the park that he hadn't been in before. The fact that it was a section filled with trees was a plus, as there was always a nice, shady area that was perfect for relaxing and thinking. Though he was surprised to see a weird rolled up piece of paper in the middle of the area.

Picking up the paper, he immediately noticed that the texture was odd, in addition to it being a different color than any of the paper he used at school. Unrolling it, the ten year old Harry scrunched his forehead in confusion. He recognized the word Catalog, but he didn’t recognize the other word.

Further unrolling it, Harry saw a number, eighty five, at the top under the catalog thing. Tilting his head to the side, Harry continued reading. Almost nothing on the paper made sense. He understood most of the words, but that didn’t help him understand it any better. Still, he came across a bunch of things that had numbers attached to them as well.

Tapping a bunch of things, Harry paused, before re-examining the paper. He’d unrolled it a lot more than should have been in it when he picked it up. After a moment, he guessed it had been more tightly rolled up than he’d realized. What he saw next through, that immediately distracted him from looking any deeper into it.

There was a picture of a woman, with red hair and eyes the same shade of green as his own. He hadn’t seen any pictures of her before, but he’d overheard Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Aunt Marge discussing her enough to recognize his mother.

“Mum?” Harry whispered, his throat tightening up, his hand reaching up to brush his fingers against it.

Unrolling the paper even more, he discovered a whole section dedicated to her: dozens and dozens of pictures of her, each one different. There was one where she was glaring and had an eyepatch, like a pirate. One where she was wearing a crown and holding a sword, dressed in an outfit that made him think of King Arthur. One where she had long white hair and was wearing a black dress. One where she had short blue hair, and was dressed in a very strange outfit. And there were dozens of others.

Most of them looked kinda weird, but eventually, he ended up running his finger on one that was of her in a pretty black dress. After staring at the picture of his Mum for what felt like hours, Harry started rolling the paper back up with a sigh. He needed to head back and get started on dinner.

As he made his way back to Number Four, he slipped the rolled up paper under his shirt. He wanted to look at the pictures of his mother again, but his relatives would almost certainly take it away from him if they knew. Honestly, part of Harry wanted to thank Dudley, because without the day’s bout of Harry Hunting he wouldn’t have found the paper that had pictures of his mum.

[hr][/hr]

Later, as Harry was setting out dinner for his relatives, there was a loud banging on the front door, making everyone jump. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had irritated looks on their faces, but as Uncle Vernon turned to face Harry (most likely to tell him to go see who it was), there was the sound of wood breaking and a very angry woman’s voice roared through the house.

“PETUNIA, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!? I SWEAR TO EVERY FUCKING GOD OUT THERE, IF THERE ISN’T A GOOD EXPLANATION, THERE WILL BE A NEW DICTIONARY TO PROPERLY DESCRIBE WHAT I DO TO YOU!”

The voice was coming closer, and Harry had to admit to himself that he was more than a little afraid. The voice was just so angry, and the threats seemed very real. It was clear that the person was about to burst into the kitchen, and Harry could only hope they didn't kill him or his relatives. Aunt Petunia's face was pale, and Uncle Vernon’s face was turning a shade that didn’t look healthy.

Harry glanced at Dudley, who was more focused on the food in front of him, just as the angry woman who’d shouted entered the dining room. Harry’s breath caught in his throat: it was his mum, wearing that same pretty black dress as she was in the picture he’d touched before coming home.

“You’re dead,” Aunt Petunia whispered, sounding like she didn't believe what she was seeing.

Harry’s mum glared, and drily said, “I got better.”

She paused, before her gaze shifted, locking onto Harry. She swallowed, and hesitantly asked, “Harry?”

His chest tightened, and Harry nodded slightly. She gave him a warm smile, before Uncle Vernon stood up, his chair flying back as he did so.

“WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, AND WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN RAISING YOUR SON INSTEAD OF HAVING HIM DROPPED ON OUR DOORSTEP?!” he bellowed, spittle flying.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to face him with a disgusted sneer on her face, saying, “I've been physically incapable of doing so. That has changed. Now, since you seem to have such an issue with Harry, how about I take him off your hands?”

Vernon opened his mouth, only for there to be a pop and a man who looked like Merlin from that American cartoon that had been shown instead of recess at school during a rainy day this year. Harry was feeling so confused.

“Harry, go pack your things, one way or another you will not be staying here for another night,” his mum said as she glared at the man who looked like Merlin. “I need to have some words with Professor Dumbledore here.”

Harry slid past his mum to the cupboard under the stairs, putting his clothes into a backpack along with the paper he’d found earlier that day. There wasn’t really anything else that he wanted to take with him, but he did wonder where his mum had been, she said that she hadn’t been able to take care of him, was she in a coma? But if so, how come he’d been told that she died?

[hr][/hr]

“Lily?” Albus Dumbledore asked in shock. He’d examined the body, and the magic that was powered by sacrificing herself.

“Not in the dining room, there’s a great deal of technical details that some people don’t need to know,” she said, glaring at Petunia and Vernon.

The passive legilimency that Dumbledore was using confirmed that it was Lily Potter, but even so, it made no sense by any magic that he could think of, Light or Dark. Regardless, he followed her to a separate room, where she turned around and glared at him.

“I am not the Lily that sacrificed herself for Harry at Godric’s Hollow that Halloween,” she began, and Dumbledore blinked. “I come from a different version of Earth and have a different history. But I am still a Lily who loves Harry. It doesn’t matter if I physically gave birth to this Harry, he is my son, and if you attempt to prevent me from taking him from here, I will unleash a wrath upon you and the entire Wizarding World that will make Riddle’s look like a child’s temper tantrum if that’s what it takes to get him back.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what had happened, while simultaneously thinking about a way to calm her down, because the last thing he needed was her causing a scene. More so than she already had, he mentally amended, glancing at the ruined front door.

“Lily, the only reason that Harry was here was because of the wards powered by the sacrifice that night,” Dumbledore began, only for Lily to hold up a hand.

“I know why he’s here, I felt the wards, which is why I have him packing and getting ready to leave. I also know that while my sister's family are his blood relatives, they are horrible people, and the last place he needs to be is here. Now, do you intend to get out of my way or try to stop me from taking him?” Lily asked, and Dumbledore thought for a moment that her eyes began to glow.

She clearly was not someone who he could convince, and while he had his suspicions about the situation, he needed time to check into them, so instead of directly answering, he instead asked, “Where do you plan on taking him? The cottage at Godric’s Hollow is not livable.”

“Leaky Cauldron for tonight, I will need to meet with the goblins to settle matters regarding finances,” she answered after a moment.

Dumbledore frowned, and was about to point out the issue with the goblins when a small voice spoke up from the doorway.

“I'm ready, Mum,” Harry said, and Dumbledore felt his heart ache.

It had pained him, listening to Arabella’s reports over the years, but with the danger posed by several of Tom’s followers that had never been caught, leaving Young Harry with his relatives was the safest choice at the time. He would need to keep an eye on matters, but if Lily was whom she claimed to be, then he would not interfere.

Lily nodded, and said, “Let's go, Harry. Professor Dumbledore was just leaving.”

He smiled gently at the boy, and said, “I shall see the two of you later.”

[hr][/hr]

A few hours later, Lily sat next to a version of her son on a bed in one of the rooms rented at the Leaky Cauldron as he slept. When the Contractor who’d originally purchased her died, she had honestly expected to be slid into one of the various Management branches, instead of having someone re-purchase her. Most Contractors didn’t like the idea of ‘sloppy seconds’, so being told that a new Contractor had picked her was a shock.

More so that her new Contractor was a version of her son. When she’d first been told, she’d assumed it was some Oedipus thing. Talking to Harry told her that wasn’t the case, and she felt a surge of anger towards the Fae. The way he was inducted screamed their involvement, the poor boy didn’t remotely understand what he’d been brought into. Still, there wasn’t anything that she could do about that now. All she could do was make arrangements at Gringotts for his Company salary, and do her best to take care of him.

Despite what her first Contractor had thought, the Potters weren’t ‘rich’ in the way that one thought of. Godric’s Hollow had been the only property that she and James had owned, and most of the money in their Gringotts account was the result of a few potion patents she’d filed almost immediately after graduation.

James’s salary as an auror trainee wasn’t the highest, but it was enough for them to live on and the patent money was entirely sent into their Gringotts account. Even after the death of the local her, the money continued to be added to the account, as the patents were still producing.

Letting out a sigh, Lily lay on the bed, gently pulling Harry so that he lay against her. She would need to give him a run down on how his role as a Contractor worked, especially the difference between Companions and Familiars. He hadn’t hit puberty yet, so he obviously wouldn’t be interested in that for a few years.

But, when he did hit puberty, if he was interested, she wasn’t opposed. She would need to speak with Dumbledore, see if Slughorn was still teaching Potions. She’d also need to talk to Tom downstairs about finding a decent supplier of firewhiskey or some other Wizarding boozes. She hadn’t originally been much of a drinker, but after spending two years in a Retinue alongside that blue haired moron, anyone would have a newfound fondness for alcohol.