Chapter Text
July 31, 1981 (Godric’s Hollow)
In the heart of Godric’s Hollow, laughter chimed in the wind.
“I’m gonna get you, Prongslet!”
James Potter merrily chased his son, Harry, around their couch. His smile was cheek-splitting, the kind of smile that made women swoon, and his eyes crinkled in mirth.
“Nu-uh, Dada!”
The toddler ran as fast as his legs could carry him as he sought solace in his mother’s arms. Lily Potter, who had been cooking breakfast, felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around her legs.
“Muma! Muma, up! Muma help Ha-wy,” the boy pleaded, glancing back at his father who was nearing them. Laughing, she put her spatula down and scooped the boy up into her arms. Brushing back his unruly hair, she peppered kisses to his chubby cheeks. Firmly planted on her hip, he quickly forgot about his predicament and began babbling childish nonsense.
James had then come up behind his wife and son, wrapping his arms around Lily. Smiling contentedly, he stole a piece of bacon from the still sizzling skillet in front of them and took a bite.
“Padfoot’s on the way, Lils,” he said as Lily swatted his hand away from the skillet.
“Pa-foo! Pa-foo!” Harry began clapping and bouncing happily on his mum’s hip, excited at hearing his favourite uncle’s name.
“What about Remus and Peter?” Lily asked.
“Remus is on the way, too. ‘Said he had to go to the shops last minute for the little man’s birthday. Pete’s still in St. Mungo’s with his mum,” James replied.
“Moo-moo? Wo-my?” Harry asked.
Smirking at the names, James nodded his head. “Yes, Harry, Uncle Moony is on the way. In fact, he and your Uncle Padfoot have a bunch of presents for you. Your Uncle Wormtail will visit tomorrow.”
“Pe-sents?” The small voice piped up, eyes wide at the mention of presents. He held out his hands to James, making grabbing motions for the said gifts. Chuckling, James shook his head no and took his son from Lily, who had finally finished cooking. He brought them over to the dining table and sat down on the chair nearest to the window, with Harry on his lap.
“No presents yet, little man. You’ll have to wait for your uncles to arrive.”
Sighing and turning off the stove, Lily turned around to face her husband and son. After levitating the food, plates, and birthday cake onto the table, she took a seat beside them. There was a small but slightly strained smile on her lips as she tucked a stray piece of Harry’s hair out of his face. James, who had always been perceptive to her moods and thoughts, smiled back at her and kissed her forehead.
“One year in hiding now,” she said. She held one of Harry’s hands, sadness colouring her tone.
Ever the optimist James was, a trait that was both his most admirable and most damning, he simply cupped Lily’s cheeks. He gave her a look of reassurance and gestured to their son on his lap.
“One year in hiding, yes, but also one year with Harry,” he said in a soft voice.
A rush of love and warmth filled Lily, who glanced down at her son, smiling a real smile at the sight of him trying to reach for the cake on the table with his free hand. Leaning into James’ palm, she beamed up at him with gleaming green eyes that spoke more volume than any words could.
Growing up, James Potter was not one for quiet. He was the sole child of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, spoiled rotten and loved by all who came undone by his charm. Going to Hogwarts, making friends with almost all he came across, the quiet was a concept unfamiliar to him– at least until a singular Lily Evans came into his life.
Lily Evans was kind, forgiving, a bit shy, but was also opinionated and firm in her beliefs. It vexed him to have encountered someone whose presence demanded attention so strongly without having to speak a single word.
In the beginning of their Hogwarts years, James couldn’t comprehend how a girl like her could be friends with someone like Severus Snape, a slimy Slytherin who detested the Gryffindors all because they knew how to have a little fun. It made him confused and jealous, which in turn made him band all his friends into targeting the snake. It took too many years and the beginning of a war for him to realise that perhaps he had been misguided in his perceptions, and that perhaps it was possible for people to react differently to change.
In the crevices of war, where fear had morphed into the shadow under his bravado, Lily’s silence taught him that silence and cowardice were not synonymous. Lily Evans, a Muggle-born and a direct target of the war propaganda, was both the quietest and the bravest person he had known.
As he sat on their dining table and looked into his wife’s silent, unwavering, courageous gaze, he knew that no matter what the war brought on, his family would be alright. His son would be alright–his son, Harry James Potter, who shared the same eyes as his wife: brave and unyielding.
“Oh, Jamsie! Lily-Flower! Prongslet, my love! Your favourite Marauder is here!”
Looking up from their seats, the trio of Potters spotted a grinning, dark-haired man prancing into their cottage with gifts piled in his arms.
“Pa-foo!”
November 10, 1981 (St. Jerome’s Graveyard)
“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,” the tombstone read.
Remus John Lupin cradled a quiet toddler in his arms as the choir sang a funeral hymn. Harry, bless the child, was too young to understand that his Muma and Dada were no longer with them.
A silver haze of starlight flooded through the streets of Godric’s Hollow. Night began to stretch out before them, coming by too slowly and too soon all at once. Shadows began to lengthen and wistfulness shimmered in the moonlight, in the air, and in the pavement of the home which, Remus thought, Harry would long for all his life but could never love enough that day.
No longer would the soft curls of James Potter get tangled in the wind. No longer would the melodic voice of Lily Potter sing her son to sleep. Where it was once the birthplace of blossoms and the mouth of spring, only worms emerged from the graveyard they now lay. Slumbering and gone, James and Lily Potter were entombed in the sacred burial grounds of the Potter family. The tombstone sat as an eternal testament to Remus Lupin’s love and shortcomings–his soul, his sin.