Where Do Babies Come From?

The tall grandfather clock in the kitchen of the Potter residence did not tell time. In the place of hands, ten golden hands sat, each with a miniature picture of the family member inside. One was pointed at 'work', six were at 'school', and three were at 'home'. Suddenly, the longest 'hand' sped from 'work' to 'travelling', finally landing at 'home' the same time Harry Potter popped into the kitchen with a soft CRACK!

Harry looked around the big, country-style kitchen where the radio on the counter in the corner was playing Luna's Loreena McKinnet cartridge. Pasta was cooking on the stove; a wooden spoon dancing amongst the noodles and an unidentifiable (yet mouth watering) smell was wafting from the oven.

No place like home. It was very quiet, as opposed to the summer. But with eight children, what could one expect?

His oldest two were twin seventeen-year-old boys. James and Sirius Potter lived up to their namesakes marvellously. James, unsurprisingly, looked just like his father; same messy black hair and bright green eyes. Sirius had Luna's slightly ragged hair, but black as well. Being twins, Sirius also had green eyes. Both were beaters on Gryffindor's Quidditch team

Then there was Remus. Only Prefect of the family, Remus was usually the brain behind one of his older brothers' pranks. He was Luna's son, with blonde Potter hair and laughing silvery eyes.

That left Tristan and Tawney. Identical to a freckle.

Both were too short for their age, dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes that were too big for their faces. The only way to tell them apart was that Tristan was the Quidditch obsessed one (whose goal was to be seeker and captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team). That, and the fact that Oliver Wood's son, thirteen-year-old Orion, was head over heals for her.

Tawney was the eccentric one and very much Luna's daughter. Wand behind the ear, mismatched clothes, and dangly lion head earrings. Both girls had an appalling lack of fear, thus resulting in their Gryffindor placement.

Luna's opinion on being a Ravenclaw in a house of Gryffindors? She was ecstatic. Luna had never liked her house, claiming that they all thought they were better than the rest.

Harry took off his cloak and hung it over one of the chairs at the massive, wooden kitchen table and set his briefcase by the door. Walking over to the refrigerator, he reached in for a Butterbeer when a short little mass of curly black hair jumped up and wrapped its arms and legs around his middle. Harry smiled and lifted up the child so their faces were level.

"Greetings Father." Five-year-old Amaris Potter said very seriously.

"Hello Miss Moon. And how are you this fine evening?" he asked, playing along. Amaris's bright, almond shaped blue eyes glittered and she wrapped her arms around her father's neck as he grabbed his drink from the fridge.

"I'm well, thank you. Ma- I mean, Mother Lunabeam says that she is making your favourite dinner," she said, using Harry's nickname for Luna. He grinned and sat the girl down on the counter, brushing her mass of corkscrew black curls out of her pixie-ish face.

"And where is Mother Lunabeam tonight?" Harry asked, offering his daughter the butterbeer bottle.

"Upstairs with Little Flower Baby," Amaris said, taking a sip of the drink and handing it back to her father. 'Little Flower Baby' was Harry's one-year-old red headed daughter, Lily. Complete with too-big green eyes and a habit of making everyone smile. "Da-I mean Father?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, taking a swig of his drink.

"Where do babies come from?"

Harry choked on his drink. "There's butterbeer coming out of your nose Father," Amaris observed, handing her father a napkin. Harry took it.

"Why do you want to know, Amy?"

"Well," Amaris sniffed, her eyes glazing over suddenly. "I asked Jamie where I came from," She began, her voice wavering.

Harry had a sinking feeling and made note to yell at his oldest when they came home for Christmas tomorrow. "A-and he said you and mama got me from a box of baby Runespoors!" she wailed, sobbing now. Harry gathered his daughter in his arms and rocked her for a few minutes while Amaris cried. "A-and," she hiccupped, rubbing her nose. "He sayed yo' widdint twell be 'cause yo' widdint wanna turt ma 'debilgate, iwwi babe poonpore fweedings." (Translation: "He said you didn't tell me because you didn't want to hurt my 'delicate, itty babyRunespoor feelings.")

"Shh, Amy-baby," Harry whispered, rubbing Amaris's back. "James was the one who came from the nest of baby Runespoors. Not you. Why do you think your brother is such a git?" Amaris sniffed and laid her head on her father's shoulder, looking thoughtful.

"Really?" she sniffed. Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Yes he did. Now you-" He racked his mind for something to say. "We got you from, um-" Harry continued rocking his daughter. "Mummy and I got you from...the stork."

"The stork?" Harry nodded exuberantly.

"Yes dear, the stork." To him, it sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.

"But then why did Mama's tummy get really big before Lily was born? Mama said that Lily came from her tummy." Harry suppressed a groan.

"Well, the stork brought Mummy a special, um, medicine, Amy."

"He did?"

"Yes he did. So Mummy took the medicine and Lily was put in her tummy."

"Oh." Harry's brow wrinkled.

"What now?" Amaris sat up and rubbed her nose, which was now a bit puffy and red.

"Well, I asked Siri before I asked Jamie and he said something about how I should watch a boredography." Harry's eyes widened. "Daddy, can babies come from films too?"

"No honey, they come from Mummy's and storks." Satisfied, Amaris curled up against her father.

"Daddy."

"Yes dear?"

"I love you." Harry smiled and pecked his daughter's head.

"I love you too."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"What's a boredgraphy?"