A Different Sort of Perspective (One-shot!)

Third Person POV!

Harry James Potter complied with his son's exhilarated screams of "Faster, Daddy, faster! I wanna go higher!" He pushed the swing higher, and faster, grinning as James giggled and laughed as only a toddler could. A few more seconds passed before James' child mind was occupied elsewhere.

"I don't wanna swing no more, Daddy. Let's play somewhere else." Harry obediently replied, finding reward enough in the pair of short, thin arms that squeezed his neck as tight as they could, which in reality, wasn't very tight at all. He walked away from the now abandoned swings, the mulch cracking under his feet, waiting for James' order of where to go next, although already guessing what the destination would be.

Sure enough, his suspicions proved correct, as James gasped and pointed over to the plastic slides. Harry was already half way there, and, with a few long strides, stood in front of the slides, helping the scrambling boy onto the ladder.

James shot up the ladder and sat at the top of the slide, waiting not so patiently for his father to walk around and kneel at the drop off point of the slide and catch him.

Harry rambled to the front, just as two children only a few years older than James sprinted past, then James shouted once. He zoomed down the slide, much faster than was usual, and plopped safely into Harry's arms just as he stowed his wand hastily into his pocket.

He set James down and watched fondly as he toddled about, talking happily to himself. Then he heard his own name.

He looked around, but saw only the two boys who had darted past him earlier. With a slight jolt, he realized it had been one of them who had said it.

He stepped closer, little James trailing behind him curiously.

The two boys were each holding a stick. One boy was much larger than the other, and was pointing his stick at the other like it was a wand.

"But you always get to be Harry Potter!" The little one cried, close to tears. "It's not fair!" He threw down his "wand." "I don't wanna be the bad guy anymore, I wanna win!"

"You have to be the bad guy, because I'm bigger than you, and I said. And you can't win, because I'm Harry Potter, and everyone knows Harry Potter always wins." The bigger one stated, matter-of-factly.

James, not old enough to realize what was going on, tugged on his father's hand as the younger boy plopped down on the ground.

With his lower lip trembling, he said: "Then I don't wanna play anymore."

The bigger boy shrugged and dropped his stick. "Me either, I'm hungry, and that game's boring anyway." The younger one stood up, and then they both ran off together.

Harry picked up his son and smiled to himself. It was nice to keep those sort of things in perspective.