Harry stretched his arms and hopped off the old log. The air was heavy with the scent of blossoms and damp earth, but another smell now teased at his nose—savory and warm, drifting out of the house. His stomach rumbled in protest, reminding him he hadn't eaten since last night.
He started toward the back door, the grass brushing against his shins as he walked. Just as he passed a patch of tall weeds, a sudden plop! startled him. A large toad landed squarely on the ground a few feet in front of him, its glossy skin glistening like wet leather in the sunlight.
Harry froze for a moment, blinking at the creature. The toad's throat ballooned once, twice, and then, without warning, it sprang forward with surprising speed. Its long tongue shot out, snatching a cricket that had chirped its last from the shadows of the bush.
Harry winced, torn between fascination and pity. The toad chewed happily, its eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, before hopping lazily back into the undergrowth.
"Guess that's nature for you," Harry whispered to himself, smiling faintly. "Good for you, bad for the cricket."
He pressed on toward the door, shaking the image from his head.
The moment he stepped inside, the house wrapped around him like a warm embrace. The air was thick with the aromas of garlic, fried shallots, and herbs simmering together, a smell so rich his stomach let out an audible growl. Harry grinned and padded toward the kitchen.
His mother stood at the stove, her back to him. Lily's long black hair was tied loosely at her back, strands curling from the heat of the stove. She hummed to herself as she stirred a pot, moving with a quiet, practiced rhythm.
Harry crept closer, grinning mischievously. The urge to play tugged at him, stronger than his hunger. He crouched, tiptoeing until he was almost within reach, fingers poised for a tickle attack.
But before he could pounce, his mother spun around as if she had eyes in the back of her head. With one swift motion, she rapped her ladle gently against the top of his head.
"Trying to prank your own mother first thing in the morning?" she scolded, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement.
"Ow!" Harry rubbed his head, feigning great injury, but his wide grin gave him away.
"Go fetch your father," Lily said firmly, pointing toward the stairs. "Tell him breakfast is ready. And make sure he actually comes this time."
Harry groaned, but he obeyed, trudging toward the staircase.
The house unfolded as he climbed. The first floor was all family life—sofa, shelves stacked with books, the dining table that held countless shared meals. The second floor was quieter, the realm of bedrooms and baths. But the third floor belonged to James Pothead alone.
As Harry reached the top, the air shifted. It smelled faintly of burnt metal and something sharp, like ozone after a storm. The door to the lab stood ajar, the hum of machinery leaking out along with the occasional clang. Harry leaned forward, pressing one eye to the crack.
Inside, the lab looked like something from another world. Wires snaked across the floor. Tools lay scattered over tables. And at the heart of it all loomed a machine unlike any Harry had ever seen—a massive contraption with polished metal tubes and a long barrel that looked suspiciously like a giant laser. Sparks flared briefly as James soldered a joint, his thick black hair sticking up in unruly tufts.
Harry stared, entranced. Every hiss, every spark drew him deeper into wonder. Then suddenly—
"Boo!"
Harry yelped, stumbling back as his father's face popped suddenly into view at the crack of the door. James burst into laughter, clutching his side.
"You should've seen your face!" he wheezed.
Harry scowled, clutching his chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Consider it payback," James said with a grin, wiping his hands on a rag. "Now, what brings you to my den of genius?"
"Mom says breakfast is ready," Harry muttered, still trying to slow his heartbeat.
Together they descended the stairs, Harry trailing close beside him, still sneaking glances at the lab.
"What's that machine for, Dad?" he asked suddenly. "It looked like a giant blaster or something."
James puffed his chest, pride flickering in his eyes. "Ah, that, my boy, is a prototype shrinking ray. Designed to reduce large, complicated machines into a manageable size. Imagine transporting a factory by fitting it into a single truck—or a medical device small enough to travel through the human body."
Harry's eyes widened in awe. "That's… incredible."
James chuckled. "It will change everything, Harry. But it's not ready yet, and it's certainly not a toy."
That seed of curiosity planted itself deep in Harry's mind, glowing like an ember.
By the time they reached the dining table, Lily had set out steaming bowls of rice and curry. The three of them ate together, laughter mixing with clinks of spoons. For a time, it was just an ordinary family morning.
Then the phone rang. James wiped his mouth and answered, his smile fading as the voice on the other end delivered urgent news.
"I'm needed at the lab," he said finally, standing. "Lily, I'll drive you to the office on the way."
Before leaving, he crouched down, locking eyes with Harry. His tone was suddenly firm.
"Stay home, son. And no matter what—don't touch anything in my lab."
Harry nodded, but his mind was already racing.