It's been more than a year since Cursed Child, and while I certainly didn't love it, there were still several spots I enjoyed more than anything. And I still can't get over the fact that Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, is afraid of pigeons. So, a short ficlet on that.
Harry James Potter had a lot to be afraid of.
At age one, he discovered a great fear for loud noises.
At age three, a fear of his cousin.
At age eleven, more fears than a boy his age should have had.
At age fifteen, fears that developed even more.
At age eighteen, fears that suddenly went away and were turned into nightmares.
Now, at age twenty-one, he was discovering a fear he had no idea could even be a fear.
Harry James Potter was terrified of pigeons.
London was a city, and pigeons are the birds of cities. Living in downtown London, sharing a flat with Ron, there were bound to be pigeons nearby. They had never bothered Harry before, but after the encounter of the twenty-third of June, Harry could never look the devilish little birds in their two terrifying eyes again.
The twenty-third of June started out as a normal day. Harry and Ron departed their flat, went to work at the Ministry, worked for several hours in the office until their lunch break. Harry decided to go out for lunch instead of eating in the office- just for a bit of fresh air, understandably so. He'd been cooped up in the office all week.
Of course, he didn't have a long lunch break- half an hour- so the closest stop outdoors was the chips stand across the street from the visitor's entrance.
Harry was starving- he hadn't eaten all day, because of course Ron had slept past the alarm charm and they had been late. He had just raised the first delectable chip to his lips, was about to take the first marvelous bite-
And then a pigeon dive-bombed him. Literally, like a scene from a movie, the pigeon dove straight for the chip in his hand just like Harry could dive for the snitch.
The next thing Harry knew he was being viciously attacked by the bloody birds. The first pigeon had brought at least four other friends, all of them desperately trying to get at the food in Harry's hands. He had no idea what made them choose him instead of anyone else on the street- actually, he didn't even know if there were other people on the street. All he could see was a mass of grey feathers swarming him, filling his vision completely. He was reminded of the time Hermione sent a flock of birds at Ron, it certainly felt like he was on the receiving end of that now. The Boy Who Lived panics, certain he's about to die by pigeon attack.
If it weren't for Ron deciding to appear at that exact moment, Harry would have sworn he was about to be killed. Ron took the food from Harry's hands and flung it as far away from the two men as possible.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked as the pigeons swarmed after it, revealing Harry's shocked face. The Chosen One's hands and face were covered in tiny cuts from the birds and he was breathing heavily. And he didn't have his damn chips.
Harry would have run screaming, if he weren't terrified of attracting the attention of the pigeons once more.
"I do not know and I do not want to know," Harry said, in answer to Ron's question.
For the rest of his life, Harry James Potter lived with a dreadful secret. Though, in time, he became no longer terrified of the malicious beasts, he was always creeped out by the nasty, pecky, dirty things- and he told his son as much when confronted.
For the rest of his life, whenever he saw them, he would mentally spit in contempt-