Even from the soaring height of the broomstick he’d dragged out of his father’s shed, James didn’t miss the glimmer of pride in her eye as he dove at a reckless speed, hand outstretched. With a triumphant whoop, he plucked a shining red apple from the very top branch of the orchard tree and wheeled upward again, juice already running down his chin as he bit into it mid-flight.
It tasted like summer—eleven summers spent under the golden southern sun, his charcoal hair perpetually unkempt (“Practically permanent—comes of all that time on a broomstick, Jamie!”). The great tree stood at the heart of their garden, one of the few shady spots for a snooze or for pretending he’d been reading his primary school spellbooks—or both. It was no ordinary tree, of course: it grew every variety of apple at once, thanks to a clever germination charm performed years ago by his father, Fleamont. Euphemia could never choose a favorite, so Fleamont had made sure she wouldn’t ever have to.
James thought it was the sort of thing only the greatest wizard he knew would do—for her, his mother, and just because he could.
Of all the summers James had spent at the Potters’ summer house in Cornwall, this one was different. This one was special. Soon, he’d be off to Hogwarts—the finest wizarding school in all of Britain. In all the world, if you asked James.
Or anyone who mattered.
He dove again, the thick summer wind tearing through his hair, through the grin stretching wider across his face as he imagined everything waiting for him. Some things were obvious: he’d be sorted into Gryffindor, of course—just as his mother and father had been decades ago. He’d be captain of the Quidditch team, and of the dueling club, and Head Boy, and anything else his father had ever managed—and more.
He’d meet the love of his life there: a beautiful, kind, pure-blood witch with lovely flowing hair, just like his Mum. Together they’d have dozens of wizard children. Sons, if James had any say in the matter—enough to make up his own Quidditch team, with spares for the bench.
At eleven, James Potter was already quite certain of many things for himself. Chief among them that he was destined to be the golden boy of Gryffindor. Perhaps all of Hogwarts. Although academics might be a squeeze—his schedule would be packed with all those clubs and titles and accolades. No bother, though. He’d happily give up top marks to another Gryffindor, or even a Ravenclaw. Perhaps even a Hufflepuff, if they had it in them.
But a Slytherin? Never. He’d never met one… but he was also certain he’d despise them.
James’ certainty wasn’t all his own. He’d been told, again and again, that greatness was his due. He was a Potter, for Godric’s sake! And that was not a title he intended to take lightly.
Just as he soared upward again, beelining toward the sun, hazel eyes wide and wild behind a pair of charmed sungoggles—he spotted it.
“Mum! Dad!” he squealed, torpedoing back toward earth. “An owl! Mum! Dad! A Hogwarts owl—my Hogwarts owl!”
It felt like a race. It practically was one. James leaned forward, gripping the broom tightly as he rocketed toward the lush grass below. Just behind him, a great snowy owl swept down, parchment clutched in its beak.
Just as expected, James won—somersaulting off his broom and landing neatly on his feet. He thrust out an arm and the owl alighted on his bicep, dropping the letter into his palm before giving him a sharp nip on the wrist.
“Ouch—greedy pig,” James smirked brightly, ruffling the bird’s feathers. He dug into the pocket of his shorts, producing a handful of pellets, which the owl accepted before wheeling back into the sky.
“Let’s see it, darling,” his mother coaxed, hand outstretched.
James clutched the letter to his chest. “But—I want to read it first, Mum. Can I? Please?”
“Jamie,” his father chided fondly, amusement tugging at his mustache. “Let your mother see. She’s been waiting for this day just as long as you—longer, really. Not every day your first and only son gets his Hogwarts letter.”
James groaned but relented, pressing the letter into her hands. He’d been waiting eleven years for his Hogwarts letter. Not his fault it had taken so long for his parents to have a child. Shouldn’t he be rewarded for following in their footsteps? He was their little miracle, afterall. Their golden boy, their—
“Soon to be a Gryffindor, I just know it!” Euphemia burst out, throwing her arms tight around his shoulders, the unrolled letter forgotten and crumpled between them.
“Mum, you’re crushing me,” James grumbled, though his cheeks burned with delight as he burrowed into her embrace. A glance at his father showed glistening eyes, tears of joy brimming and unshed.
At last Euphemia drew back, holding him at arm’s length as though to memorize his face. One hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across the sun-kissed skin.
i’m 100% certain the only reason sirius black didn’t burn the whole world to the ground after marlene mckinnon’s dead, the love of his life’s dead, was the fact that suddenly his godson, the son of james potter, his one true soulmate (platonic or not, idc), was in immediate danger and he would’ve done anything to protect him, including swallowing his own grief.
Lightheaded relief filled her entirely, and even her son seemed to settle against her stomach. She laid a hand on it, trying to breathe through the sheer joy of having her husband back home safe. She knew he had to do it, she loved him for it, and she supported him through it, but it was still a nightmare every time he left for more than three days, especially when he couldn’t communicate.
Harry came to the couch, pale as a ghost, the lost expression he always had after a particularly bad mission fading away as he caught sight of her. Ginny beckoned him over imperiously.
“Dada!” Jamie cried, waving his fat little fists around. Harry picked him up and spun him around, his entire face softening.
“Hey, my baby,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Were you good for Mummy and Aunt Luna?”
“No, he wasn’t,” Teddy called from beside the fireplace, not taking his eyes off his book. The eight-year-old grinned anyway. “He screamed the roof off at bath time.”
“And I suppose you were a lot better?” Harry asked, sounding amused, an eyebrow raised skeptically.
“I was!” Teddy nodded enthusiastically.
“Uh huh. How about you tell me what you did?”
Jamie and Teddy gabbled on cheerfully, Harry nodding solemnly as though he could understand every single word. Ginny smiled at the sight, feeling tears sting at her eyes.
Oh no. She hated pregnancy hormones.
Harry set Jamie next to Teddy, who instantly abandoned his book in favour of entertaining his little brother. Jamie laughed gleefully when Ted tickled him.
Ginny raised her arms tiredly when Harry came over to her, and they kissed languidly, for once not being interrupted by children or her annoying brothers (though she often thought and said those were one and the same).
“And how is my amazing daughter?” Harry asked, hand coming up to caress her belly.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you, Potter, he’s a boy.”
“Yes!” Teddy called. “I want another godbrother!”
Harry had that exasperated, withering look which struck fear in the hearts of criminals and made his family laugh at the snark to follow. “What, so you have someone else to blame for stealing cookies from the jar when you do it?”
“He could just as easily blame Surtiyem for it even if they were a girl,” Ginny said amusedly as Teddy’s hair turned pink in confession.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Okay, whichever gender the baby is, we’re not going to name them Surtiyem.”
Ginny smirked. They both knew she had no intention of actually using that name. “And how are you going to stop me? I’ll have the name on the birth certificate before you know it.”
“As I recall, you were high on pain potions when Jamie was born.” He grinned. “No way you’d be able to write something legible.”
She huffed. “It’d be more legible than your chicken scratch—”
“Mama!” Jamie called, and both adults’ attention immediately went to the children. “Eddy!”
“He wants my book,” Teddy grumbled. “But what if he tears it? What if he—” He caught himself. “It’s mine.” He insisted fiercely.
Ginny caught Harry’s eye. The book had been found by Harry in Remus’ cottage, which had been left to him in the will. It was a children’s story book, and Teddy had been fascinated with it ever since learning whom it had belonged to. She certainly couldn’t fault him for it. But how was she to explain that to a barely three-year-old?
Harry went over and crouched in front of the boys. “Jamie, would you like it if Teddy suddenly just wanted one of your toys?”
Jamie shook his head stubbornly.
“Then can you understand why Ted doesn’t want you to touch his book?”
There was a pause, and the infant reluctantly nodded.
“Good boy.” Harry ruffled his hair. “But Teddy, you can hold it and still let Jamie see, yes? It’s yours, and so you don’t have to agree, but sharing things with your brother—”
He reluctantly showed Jamie the pictures, and when he cooed over them excitedly, Teddy began to warm up to the idea of showing James the book. Harry stayed for a couple of minutes, watching carefully for any trouble, eyes full of affection, before pressing kisses to both of their heads and coming back to Ginny.
“Well well, Mr Potter,” She murmured. “You as a dad is hot.”
Harry grinned. “Thanks, Mrs Potter.” He frowned suddenly. “I heard something like that in the office. DIFF, or something?”
Ginny pressed her lips together in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “DILF, you mean?”
“Yeah!” He said proudly. “What does that mean?”
Leaning over, she whispered the full-form in his ear, careful to make sure the kids weren’t eavesdropping. Teddy had developed quite the vocabulary of swear words from the lot of them, and Jamie worshipped the ground he walked on and would definitely copy.
“What?!” He exclaimed. Ginny completely lost control, subsiding into giggles. “Who – I – in the office—” He looked flustered.
“You know, it’s sad that you still think you’re not the most desirable person alive—” she said conversationally. “You’d think after winning Witch Weekly’s Sexiest Wizard and Winner of ‘Wish He Wasn’t Married’ twice in a row you’d know that—”
“Hey, I had Undesirable Number One plastered across my face everywhere for a year, that takes its toll,” Harry said indignantly. “I found one of those old posters in Gawain’s office recently, hilariously enough. It brings up memories!”
She clicked her tongue. “Stop making excuses, Potter. You just keep making them one after the other—”
He laughed throatily, pressing his forehead to hers. “Well, I’ve always been a one-woman man, Weasley. Reason enough?”
“Just another excuse.” But she couldn’t help smiling, and she leaned up with difficulty to kiss him.
“Is this one of the things where Uncle Ron pretends to gag and vomit when he sees you?” Teddy asked interestedly.
They broke apart, smiling wryly. It was very hard to get a good romantic moment with kids needing attention every other minute.
“Something like that, Ted,” he said.
“Unca Ron?” Jamie asked, looking excitedly around for his godfather.
“Jamie,” Ginny said solemnly. “Promise me you’ll never listen to stuff Uncle Ron says and betray me like Teddy did.”
Jamie looked confused. Teddy crossed his arms and pouted. “Not a ‘trayal!” He insisted. “Harry said it was sorta right! The real betrayal would’ve been wearing Cannon orange instead of Holly green,” he said, pointing at his dark green hair, pleased.
“Oh yeah. You ever do that, you’re disowned, Teddy Bear.” Ginny said gravely.
Teddy looked supremely unconcerned. “You might, but Granma won’t.”
“Besides, that’s your hair colour, Gin,” Harry pointed out idly, his arm around her waist. “Would you say having ginger hair is a betrayal? Now,” his voice dropped very low. “What we did in your locker room last year on the other hand. . .”
“Harry James Potter!” Ginny shrieked, trying to hide her laughter. She remembered the locker room fiasco. Her teammates were a bunch of voyeurs.
James looked up inquiringly. “Not you, Jamie. Your dad’s just being an idiot.” Ginny told him.
“And you’re both being disgusting,” Teddy said, in an amazing reproduction of Percy’s loftiest tone.
Ginny could pick out in Teddy so many tiny bits of the people she loved: there was the way he laughed, tilted his head when he thought and sat, exactly the way Remus had; seeing the way he scrunched his nose up was like seeing Tonks again; his questioning eyebrow raise, the covering of a smile as though it weren’t allowed and scornful look were exact copies of Harry; and the way he furrowed his eyebrows together when he read was all Hermione.
Even in physical appearance. Whatever colour his hair might be, it was always the wild Potter hair. His eyes were perpetually the same shade as Harry’s. His nose was long and freckled like Ron’s. His aristocratic Black jawline was identical to Tonks’, Andromeda’s and Sirius’. His giant ears were ditto to George’s. The thing was that Ginny didn’t think any of those were on purpose. There wasn’t much study about metamorphmagi, but she thought they subconsciously based looks (other than eyes and hair which were obvious) on the people they looked up to. And Ginny found it both happy and indescribably sad that his looks were such an amalgamation of different people rather than majorly Tonks and Remus, the way it should have been.
Still. She had learned since the war to take the small joys where they came, even if it was with bittersweet sadness.
Harry checked the old grandfather clock across the hall. “Sure thing, big guy. Bedtime’s soon. Go get your overnight bag from Andromeda’s.”
“Bedtime?” Jamie asked in a whimper, sounding like all the horrors of the world were contained in that single word. “No! Wanna stay.”
Ginny kissed Harry’s cheek and went and scooped her son up in her arms. “Sorry, kiddos. When we say it’s bedtime, it’s bedtime.”
“We’re the bosses,” Harry added, throwing his legs up on the couch.
“TYRANNY!” Teddy howled like it was a deeply moving war cry.
“Are you and Hermione doing that advanced reading thing again?” Harry said, sounding exasperated. “Didn’t we decide to pause on that?”
“But the school story books are booooring,” Teddy whined.
“And I’ve told you, once you get your science grade up to the mark, we’ll reconsider the—”
“Harry,” Ginny interrupted, Jamie yawning in her arms. “Maybe tomorrow?” She nudged her head toward the calendar and saw realization flit across her husband’s face. It was the full moon. Effects on Teddy varied from moon to moon, but he always became easily irritable and incredibly tired. It wasn’t a good day for this confrontation, though she certainly agreed Teddy couldn’t be allowed to skip ahead in one subject while ignoring all the others.
“Good idea,” Harry let the topic go, instead jabbing his wand at the fireplace to make the flames go higher and crouching next to Teddy. “Hey, how about we cuddle on the couch and you read to me until you fall asleep? We can continue the discussion tomorrow.”
“I’m a big boy, I don’t cuddle,” Teddy insisted, though he clearly wanted to. Ginny watched, smiling.
“But I need it. Mission was hard, Ted,” he said, and though it was playful, she saw genuine exhaustion on his face. She made a note to coax a rant out of him later. That always made him feel better.
Teddy stared up at him with wide eyes. “Okay. You got the bad guys?”
“Every single one of them,” Harry promised, the words coming across a lot heavier to her than to Teddy. He looked up and smiled softly at her, breaking the solemnity. “Gin? Joining us?”
Ginny hesitated. She ought to put Jamie to bed and set up the monitoring charms.
“Pwease, mumma?” Jamie said beseechingly.
“Maybe just this once,” she conceded, and all three males cheered. She sat on the couch, putting her legs up. Jamie crawled from her lap to Harry’s, and Teddy snuggled against her shoulder. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and the two of them exchanged a happy look over their sons’ heads.
“Ever thought you’d get here?” She asked in a whisper, as Jamie and Teddy argued about the story choice.
He laughed. “Never,” he confessed. “But I couldn’t be happier.”
She blinked the happy tears from her eyes, resting a hand on her stomach. An amazing career. Her incredible infuriating and yet reliable family. Her many friends. Her three beloved boys, plus another child coming.
She remembered watching Luna play the piano once. Her friend had commented that the harmony of the way she played matched her mother’s – that there was no better peace than with the memory of someone you love.
Ginny felt that harmony every time she looked at Harry. And she couldn’t be gladder for it.
He put it pretty well.
“Neither could I,” she agreed, and they settled down for story time.
I've read a lot but your Sirius - Harry dynamic is my favourite.
You make Harry Sirius's whole world but at the same time not a friend figure like many. Sirius is a parent and does the tough thing when needed.
So I wondered if you'd be keen to write thoughts/micro-fic on a Sirius reaction when Harry runs away just like in POA when Peter escaped. In this scenario Sirius has been raising Harry since Oct. 81!
Thank you!
I’m so glad you love my Sirius and Harry dynamic.
I will never understand the people who think Sirius was a bad or immature godfather. Like homeboy lived in a cave and ate rats to be near Harry just in case he needed him. Sirius always treated Harry maturely, taking the time to explain things. He never acted like Harry’s friend. He always acted like a parent. I really wonder if people are reading the same books. Don’t even get me started on how people think Remus Who Abandoned His Kid Lupin would have made a better godfather. You mean the guy who never even contacted Harry nor told him his relationship with his dad upon meeting him? The one who never contacted him after Harry legit watched his godfather die to check in? Please, tell me what makes Remus a better choice for godfather. I’ll wait.
I’ve never thought about that scenario before. It’s hard for me to think of a reason why Harry would run away (even though I wrote that in Fleawindinkle but is it really running away if he just hangs out next door??) I guess I could see Sirius being overbearing and ultra helicopter-y about the situation and that may annoy Harry. I’m not sure. I’d have to think on it a lot more.
The night was warm, truly a perfect summer night. Marlene found herself on the small balcony. The wedding of James and Lily Potter was taking place at Potter Manor. The house was big enough to fit all of their closest friends. And since times were chaotic and dark, the wedding was happening sooner rather than later.
It was beautiful. The whole day was beautiful.
And Marlene had enough. Some time ago, she slipped outside with cigarettes in one hand and a half-full bottle of wine in the other. She sat down on the ground, pulling her knees close to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. The warm summer wind blew from time to time as the half-moon was shining above her.
"There you are, I was looking for you", Sirius announced as he stumbled into the small space. As he opened the door, loud music filled the air for a second.
She nodded her head softly but didn't acknowledge him further. He plopped down on the floor next to her, his movements a little sloppy. The door closed, and silence fell on them once again.
Marlene wasn't sad. She shouldn't be sad. She had no right to be sad. One of her dearest friends was getting married. She should be happy for her. Because Lily and James were in love. The beautiful kind. The kind people only found in fairy tales. Maybe if James were a different type of guy, Malrlene would have more room to complain. If he were one of those stupid pricks who bothered Marlene so much, she would tell Lily not to marry him.
To run.
To run with her.
But Marlene couldn't do that.
She aggressively wiped another tear that made it down her cheek. There was some soft shuffling from Sirius' side, he reached for a cigarette, and waited for her to light it.
"I know", he said, his voice very sober, too sober for how much alcohol he already had.
"Bulshit", she said, dropping the lighter into her lap.
"Trust me, I know", he looked right through her, those grey eyes piercing through her soul. Marlene held eye contact with him. They shared a small telepathic conversation with each other.
And she wanted to believe him, she really did. "What about your moon?" she asked, her voice raspy because of the alcohol (not becouse of the crying because Marlene doesn't cry).
Sirius tilted his head to the side and exhaled the smoke he had been holding in his mouth. “The moon will never replace the sun.”
She moved her head, finding a spot on his shoulder. She curled closer as he finished the cigarette "I'm happy for them", she whispered.
"I know, " he said, wrapping his empty arm around her middle to bring her even closer. "Me too," he added as an afterthought.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he avoided her gaze. “Yeah, I know, Lils. It’s just… I thought we’d be done by now. That we’d be out there fighting, not hiding.”
Lily lifted herself slightly so she could look him in the eye. Her emerald gaze held a mix of determination and sadness. “We are fighting, James. Just in a different way. Keeping Harry safe, keeping us safe—that’s the fight right now.”
The next chapter of my fanfiction on James raising Harry is now live. Go check it out and please leave a comment <3
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
dededos
snowghoul
kaledo-art
