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The Jameson Chronicles	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Bridge
- 2-The Box
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- 2
Hello, everyone! If you follow my Dramione series, How To Train Your Auror, this will be a fun side story about the lovable Theodore Jameson from HTTYA2: Family Ties. If you haven't read my series, this might be a bit out of left field, but still a fun read, none the less. Originally, this story was going to be a one-shot involving Theodore's past, but waymay and I agreed that splitting it into 5 parts would be the best option. So, without further ado, I present to you: The Jameson Chronicles.
Rated M for later chapters.
Thank you waymay for the edits and love of Theodore! One day, Theodore might make it into his own original book. I hope so. He deserves it.
~A.
Chapter One: The Bridge

"Miss Believer" by Twenty One Pilots
"Theodore, dear. Pass the jam, would you?"
Theodore Jameson reaches across the table, extending his slender arm over the buttered rolls and cranberry sauce. He snatches up the jar of jam, reels it back to his chest, and passes it to his mother, who smiles fondly.
"Thank you."
"Sure." Theodore bounces in his chair, peering out the window. The first hints of snow flitter in the air in puffs of snowflakes that beat against the window. It takes everything within the five-and-a-half-year-old not to bound out the front door right now and catch snowflakes on his tongue.
"Mommy?" he asks.
"Yes, dear?"
"Are we gonna stay this time?"
His mother presses her lips together, thinking how best to address her son. She reaches over, wraps an arm around his shoulders and whispers, "Theodore, you know your father works very hard to provide for us. We go where he's needed."
"I know." He wiggles in his chair, anxious to leave. He won't realize until he's much older just how vexed he is at his mother's words. Right now, he thinks it's due to the want to be in the snow. It's easier, this way. Adult problems can wait. Snow comes first. "I'm full."
"Eat a bit more."
"I'm full."
"The boy says he's full, Margaret," A soothing, masculine voice sounds from the doorway. Theodore smiles warmly at his father, who rubs his tired eyes and gives a warm grin. His auburn hair is particularly disheveled this morning, and he wraps his bathrobe tighter around himself as he approaches the table and kisses his wife on the cheek. "Can't you see he wants to go play?"
"I can see he hasn't touched his food."
"I'm full," Theodore insists once more.
"So you are."
"Samuel. The boy needs to eat."
"Margaret," Samuel teases in the same tone, "The boy needs to play."
"Play!" Theodore giggles, throwing his hands in the air.
Margaret sighs, placing her fork down on her plate. "Oh, alright. But, for Heaven's sake, put on a coat! And gloves! And a hat! And-"
"-And a mustache and a broach and a tea kettle!"
Theodore sniggers at his father's words and slides off his chair. "And a cow!"
"A cow?"
"Cow! Cow!"
"Theodore, go grab your coat from the hallway."
"Okay, Mommy!"
The boy runs out of the room, his shoes clacking against the tile floor. He returns shortly with his coat, a hat, gloves, and a plastic cow tucked under his arm. "I brought a cow!"
"So you did." Samuel retrieves his own coat from the coatrack and bundles himself in it. "Let's go, Theo."
"Samuel, put on some decent clothes."
"We're only walking down the path a little," Samuel replies, "Not enough for anyone to see us. We're out in the middle of nowhere. Relax."
Margaret purses her lips, but she doesn't argue with her husband.
"Cow ready to go!" Theodore giggles, reaching up to his father's hand to grasp it tight. He tugs the adult out the door, ready for his first real winter. What will the snow be like, he wonders? Will it be soft? Firm? Will it be wet or dry? As soon as he's off the front porch, he releases his father's hand and bounds down the gravel driveway. Crunch. Crunch. The white powder beneath his feet scrunches under his boots. "Daddy, look! Snow!"
"Snow," Samuel agrees. He looks down at his house slippers and laughs to himself. "I seem to have forgotten my outside shoes."
"Do the thingy!"
"What thingy?"
"The magic thingy."
"Theodore, we've been over this. Outside of the home, we don't use our magic."
"Pleaaaaaase." The child bounces up and down. "Just the once!"
With a roll of his eyes, Samuel looks behind him, to the front door, and then turns back to Theodore. "Alright. Best not to tell your mother, yes?" He reaches beneath his coat and robes, retrieving a thick, lengthy strip of wood. In a flurry of designs, he points the wand to his house slippers and transfigures them into a pair of rubber snow shoes. His son cheers with glee, and Samuel brings a careful finger to his lips, reminding him it's a secret. Theodore nods enthusiastically as his father waves his wand once more and hovers a ball of snow into the air. "Today, Theo, we're going to have a snowball fight."
The child watches in wonder as the snowball floats through the air, slowly, before it lands softly on his head, crumbling into a cold, impotent pile of snow. Theodore shrieks from the cold, and he scoops down, pressing the snow at his feet into a snowball of its own. The snowball flies through the air and hits his father square in the face.
"Oof!"
"Haha!"
"Good aim, Theodore. Impressive." Samuel rubs the snow off his nose. "But can you handle this?" And with that, the wizard raises his wand arm and sends an arsenal of snowballs in his son's direction. Theodore's eyes go wide, laughing wildly as he tears off in the opposite direction. Snowballs pelt the ground beside him, and occasionally one gets him in the leg or the shoulder. Everything is fun and games until he rushes past the gate at the edge of the front yard. When he turns around, he no longer sees the cottage his family has moved into just three short weeks ago. He only sees a baron scrap of field covered in a blanket of fresh snow.
"Daddy?" He runs toward the gate, only to feel a strange sensation in his chest as he approaches. He stalls his movements a yard from the gate, and a feeling of dread washes over him. What is this? He's been told never to go past the gate without his family, but he never thought his home would disappear. Panic shoots down his spine, and tears well up in his eyes immediately. He tries to move toward the gate again, but the nagging sense of foreboding grips his nerves, and he no longer can move. Instead, he backs up a few paces and sniffles. "Mommy. Daddy…"
A pretty little wisp of light appears out of the corner of his eye. Theodore turns his head, but the light disappears as quickly as it appeared.
"Hello?"
A small 'ooooh' rings through his ears -no, not through his ears. Inside his mind. Theodore, startled, spins around, and that's when he sees it: another colorful light, this time with a hint of blue at the edge of the gravel path. It burns bright before fading into nothing and reappearing further down the path. The same, bleeding 'ooooh' echoes in the forefront of his mind, beckoning him.
"What are you?"
'Ooooh.' Somehow, he knows what the sound means. Follow me.
"Why?"
'Oooh.' Parents.
"You know where they are?"
'Oooh.' Yes.
The light wilts and appears further down the path, yet again. Theodore takes a step toward it. "Wait! Show me."
'Oooh.'
His feet stumble as he races toward the burning light. Again and again it disappears and shows up, taking him deep into the woods along the trail. The sun is blocked by the trees overhead, and the temperature drops as he travels further. The minutes drag on, and the wisps of light grow further apart from one another. The wind picks up, but how there could be any wind in such a tree infested surrounding is beyond the boy's comprehension. He only follows the wisp, determined to see himself home again.
A clearing appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and a bridge can be seen far off. The small river beneath it is frozen solid, and the brightest light appears just beneath the bridge. Theodore scrambles, taking off at a dead run to keep up, but when he makes it to the edge of the river, he stops.
'Oooh!' Come!
"What if it breaks and I fall in?" he asks.
The light burns bright, but it doesn't give any heat. The ice beneath it stays firm. A pulse wave grows from the light, much the way his father's Bowtruckle Patronus does when dancing on the table. It's captivating as it forms a familiar shape, including hair, eyes, and a full woman's figure. She smiles at him softly, her corporal body translucent beneath the bridge.
"Wow…" Theodore tilts his head. "You're so pretty."
Join me.
He looks around the edge of the river nervously. "I want my Daddy and Mommy."
Come here, child. I will show you the way.
"But we've gone further out, not closer."
Trust me, Theodore. I shall do you no harm.
Taken in by the light's beauty, he moves to take a step onto the frozen water.
"Stop!" someone shrieks above him, at the top of the bridge. "What are you doing, you dummy?"
Theodore frowns, dropping his foot to the ground. "Who are you calling a dummy, you dummy?"
"You! Dummy." It's a little girl who hovers at the edge of the bridge's guardrails, wrapped tightly in a flowing robes ensemble with matching red and green gloves and hat. She sticks her tongue out at him and waves him up. "Get away from the water!"
"She says she's gonna help me find my parents," he explains, pointing beneath the bridge.
"Who?"
"The woman made of light."
The girl's eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. "Is she there? Now?"
"Yes." Theodore stares at the glowing woman and points. "She's right there."
"You're a bigger dummy than I thought!" the girl shouts at once. "My father says never trust a will-o'-the-wisp."
"A what?"
The girl sighs, pushes off the railing, and disappears from sight. Moments later, she walks down the path to stand next to Theodore, her hands tucked inside her robes. "You got a name, dummy?"
"I'm Theodore." He glances down at the girl's boots, sniggering. "What are those?"
"What?"
"On your shoes!"
"Whales," she replies indignantly. "I like whales. They're cool."
"They're silly."
"You're silly."
Theodore shrugs, turning back to the spot under the bridge. "She's gone!"
"Duh." The girl kicks her boots into the snow, shuffling some onto his covered feet. "I'm Lindy." She thrusts her hand out. When he doesn't take it, she asks, "What?"
"I'm… not s'posed to talk to strangers."
"Too late," she grabs up his hand anyway and shakes it firmly. "See? Now we're not strangers."
"Can you help me find my Daddy?"
"Sure. Where is he?"
"I don't know," he scowls. "If I did, I'd be with him."
"Where do you live?"
"That way," he points back the way he came. "But…" His voice grows quiet. "I'm not s'posed to tell 'nyone."
"Why?"
"...It's a secret."
"I'm good with secrets!" Lindy exclaims. "Like, really good. My uncle told me not to tell his secret, and I kept it really good."
"What was the secret?"
"I can't tell you."
"Wow, you're good with secrets."
"I know," she beams with pride. "Come on, I'll help you find your Daddy."
"Thanks."
He follows the girl back up the path, back the way he came. His thoughts fall on the woman made of light, and he can't help but ask, "What's a willow-de-wisk?"
"Will-o'-the-wisp," she corrects. She, then, pauses and turns her head toward him. "Are you a muggle?"
"A what?"
"A muggle."
"What's a muggle?"
"Someone with no magic."
"Oh!" Theodore becomes excited. "My father has that!"
"Magic?"
"Yeah! With a wand and everything!"
"Cool! Mine too! What about your Mum?"
"Yeah. Yours?"
"Yeah."
"Coooooool." Lindy giggles. "How come you didn't know what a muggle was, then?"
"We call them no-majs."
"That's silly."
"Your boots are silly."
"Where are you from?"
"California."
"Where is that?"
"America."
"You're from America?"
"I was born there," Theodore says proudly. "But my parents were born here."
"Crazy."
"I've never seen the snow before."
"Never?"
"Never, ever."
"Have you ever caught a snowflake on your tongue?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Let's try it!"
Lindy stops in the middle of the gravel road and throws her hands out like a cross while sticking out her tongue. "DO Eh!"
Theodore shrugs, throws his hands out as well, and sticks out his tongue. They stare up at the sky, waiting for the snowflakes to arrive. After several moments, Lindy sighs, giving up. "When it snows more, you have t'do it."
"Okay."
"Theodore!"
The children turn to the edge of the woods, where Samuel emerges, carrying Theodore's plastic cow.
"Daddy!"
"Theo!"
The frightened father takes off at a run and scoops his son up in his arms, kissing him on the head.
"Daddy! You're 'barrisen me…"
It's then adult notices the other small child lingering on the path. "Oh." He sets his son down carefully. "Hello there."
"Hi!" Lindy waves her arms. "I'm Lindy!"
"Lindy's my friend," Theodore explains. "She saved me from a wilt-a-wisp."
"A Will-o'-the-wisp? In these woods?" Samuel furrows his brows, turning to Lindy. "You have my thanks."
"Sure."
"Lindy, do your parents know you're out here?"
"Yeah. I'm out here all the time."
"I would offer to walk you back to your parents, but…" Samuel sighs.
"It's okay, Daddy. Lindy's good at secrets."
Samuel raises an eyebrow. "Are you?"
Lindy nods. "Super duper."
The man crouches down to her level and boops her on the nose with his finger. "So you are. Can you please keep us a secret, Lindy? You mustn't tell a soul about us."
"Why not?"
"Because… we help people who are sick. But the work we do is very special." Samuel smiles fondly. "And if anyone found out about our special work, they might try to hurt us. Hurt Theodore."
"Nobody's gonna hurt Theodore," Lindy shakes her head. "He's my best friend."
"Is he?"
"Yes."
"Then you promise to keep us a secret?"
"I promise."
"Thank you, Lindy." Samuel removes his wand from his robes and says, "Expecto Patronum!" An illuminating figure of a bowtruckle expels from his wand and hovers in front of the tiny girl. "I call him Thatcher. He'll walk you home."
"Thanks!" Lindy grins ear to ear, then hugs Theodore. "Wanna play again sometime?"
"I don't think Theodore can do that, Lindy. He wasn't supposed to be out this far."
Theodore pouts his lower lip, but puts on a brave face for Lindy. He doesn't want her to worry. "Maybe." It's what he's been taught to say when he knows he can't see someone again. But Lindy doesn't know it, and so she kisses his cheek and begins to follow the bowtruckle patronus down the opposite end of the path, towards the bridge.
"Bye, Theodore!"
He waves her off. "Bye, Lindy!"
Samuel puts a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him in the opposite direction. He offers out Theodore's plastic cow, and the boy takes it.
"Are we gonna have to leave again?" he asks sadly.
Samuel gives a small sigh, patting his son's back. "We'll see, Theo." As his son hangs his head, he adds, "Maybe we can try to stay. We'll just need to make the wards thicker this time."
A hope gleams in Theodore's eyes, and he turns his head to watch Lindy disappear over the arch of the bridge. "Okay, Daddy. I hope so."
Adorable, right? Hope to hear back from all of you! Shall update soon. :3
~A.
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The Jameson Chronicles