After breakfast, Harry got to enjoy something he always wanted to do. Watch from the table as someone else cleaned up. His sisters cleaned up the mess while Harry entertained Sylvia and Lily. His mum also sat at the table sipping some tea. Sirius and his family made their entrance, wishing Harry a happy birthday, giving him a card and then Sirius making himself scarce. Alex went in search for Leon while Eric and Amanda squealed like the kids they were and ran off with Lily and Sylvia, certain to cause much mischief and destruction. Amy smiled after her kids and sat down to a cup of tea that Lily produced for her.
"mmmm, this biscuit is good. You make it, Shelia?" Jasmine asked.
"Nope. Harry did. From scratch, too."
Miss Black looked at young Mr. Potter. "You made these? They are quite good. I'm surprised that you made sweets on your birthday."
"I didn't know we were celebrating today," Harry smiled, still reading the cards (for the 5th time).
"Well, Harry, I don't mind saying I'd appreciate it if you started cooking for us if today is any indicator of how you can do around a stove," Shelia said in another attempt to get him to take over making breakfast.
"I'll think about it," he promised.
"My, my," Jasmine said, sitting, "you can cook and you're modest about it. You certainly have been growing up recently, Harry."
"Well," Harry said uncomfortably, not knowing where this conversation was headed. Was she hitting on him? "I try."
"So, Harry, how long have you been practicing your cooking spells?" Amy asked.
"Well, I tried my first one when I was six. I read a book about how kids should show parents love by doing something special for them so I decided to practice cooking," Harry made a little lie. Only, it wasn't so little. He really had been cooking at age six. And this Harry had tried cooking spells at age six according to the journal he'd read. Only, he'd been really bad at it.
"More like he did it out of survival," Rose whispered to Shelia who nodded back.
"What?" Harry said.
"Nothing."
"You started learning how to cook on your own in order to do something special for your father and I? That's so sweet!" Lily gushed, getting up and hugging him fiercely. Small tears ran down her cheek.
"Oh Harry, my baby boy is growing up. And to think all this time, I thought you were just a troublemaker and a Quidditch addict like your father! Now you don't have to feel like you need to follow in your father's footsteps and be a whiz on a broom. You can follow in my footsteps and be an accomplished chef," she said through tears. "Amy? You're choking. Are you okay?"
"Tea. Wrong pipe. I'll be okay."
Harry gave his mum an awkward pat on the back and smiled brightly. He loved making his mum smile. It made him warm and a little weak-kneed.
...
Later that morning Harry was again in the Library. The rest of the family was outside playing around and flying on the family brooms, but ever since Harry had found out this reality's version of himself was pathetic at flying, he knew suddenly showing up and saying he was great - and then proving it - would lead to more questions than he wanted to deal with. So he kept himself grounded, at least in their presence. He still flew at night, or when it was just a couple of the younger kids where all he needed to do was float. He no longer had his own broom and was now using his Grandfather's old broom which was about as he expected his grandfather to be - old. And slow.
Harry closed the Hogwarts, A History book and thought about what he'd read. It was the second time through for him over the past month, but reading it clarified a few points in his head. One: the only significant change over the past decade had been who was TBWL, and two: the role Neville's parents took in politics was not something he would have approved his own parents doing, let alone a potential ally's.
He snapped out of his thoughts when someone sat next to him. It was Jasmine, Sirius' oldest, and twin of Alex. From what Harry had been able to gather reading the journal, the other Harry had been as dense as a box of rocks to not know that Jasmine was interested in him. Of course, since he was still a boy and not interested in girls, it was expected that he wouldn't have a clue. Elder Harry didn't even know what end was up when it came to dealings with girls until he started going out with Ginny.
All the other Harry had done over the past several years was to make fun of his sisters and Jasmine, and pull pranks on everyone from his family outwards. Harry thought this had been especially cruel on those that didn't have a means of knowing what was going on (i.e., Sylvia, Amanda, and Lily), or those that didn't know how to defend themselves (Shelia and Jasmine - Rose knew how to stand up for herself, big time).
"Hi, Harry. I just wanted to tell you that your biscuits were really good," she said shyly while looking at her feet.
"Thanks, Jasmine. You know, I found that I really enjoyed myself this morning. I may have to do it again, so you can quit listening in, Shelia !" A small "eep" sound came from around the corner as Harry heard feet making a hasty retreat.
"Sorry about that. She was really insistent."
"That's okay. I was planning on taking over breakfasts anyway. I can tell Shelia's not really into it. How about you? Do you cook?" Harry really had no intention of being a prat like he "used" to be.
She gave him a surprised smile. He was so unlike he used to be a month ago. Usually he acted cocky, but now was so different. She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. "Sorry, yes I like to cook, mum and grandma says it is traditional for woman to cook while men should work," Jasmine said shyly while looking into his eyes. He was a lot kinder to her then he had ever been. She liked it when Harry wasn't being a prat. He was just dashing.
"Tradition? Well in my opinion, I think these old timers are being unfair. It's not the Middle Ages anymore. I think men should cook too! Women are equal to men and we're not that different. We've got some different organs, but attitude wise we're the same. When I get older, I want a wife to be herself, not some maid who has to do my every bidding. We're equal, so we all deserve respect and…" He shut up when she hugged him firmly.
"Thank you."