Chapter Text
The Potter family was an old and well-known Pureblood house in Wizarding Britain, not because of their jewels and riches, or power and charisma (though they had all in spades), but because of the abundance of strange and fortuitous events that surround its members. The reason behind these happenings, commonly known (affectionately by allies and derisively from foes) as Potter Luck, is a complete mystery to anyone outside of the family. The only location of the truth is inside the Potter Family Grimoire which was created and protected by Blood Magic, long before such magics were outlawed by the Ministry.
The name Potter in the Muggle world originally referred to those who (obviously) made or worked with pots. The Wizarding Potters were likewise given their name by their unknowing Muggle neighbors who almost never saw a member of the family without a 'pot.' Of course, the 'pot' in question was in all actuality a cauldron, for the Potter family was always experimenting with potions and poisons and antidotes and cure-alls and was never shy with giving the finished (and not-so-finished) products to wizards and muggles alike. While this would often get the family scorn in the eyes of the more secluded wizarding families, they were still a rather well-liked bunch as they were genial and rather agreeable, if arguably barmy (the potion fumes may have had a hand).
It is their propensity for potions that is the secret to their overwhelming and astounding luck. A certain member of the family some hundred years ago had been brewing and experimenting with a potion that would later on be the basis for the well-known (if slightly toxic) Liquid Luck potion, Felix Felicis (also a product of the Potter family). The brew in question had been rather tempestuous, bubbling over and frothing if the man looked away for even a second. The wizard himself had been overjoyed with his progress, a manic grin across his face as he leaned over his cauldron which was continuously hissing and spitting at him in its golden luminous brilliance. It was when he had added the fang from a particularly obstinate and unyielding wyvern that the potion decided it had had enough and promptly exploded in the wizard's face.
Instead of causing irreparable damage and injury to the wizard (which had happened before many times, to him and his predecessors), the glimmering gold potion sunk into his skin and every open orifice. It had burned the man's eyes and had tasted of the ambrosia of the gods if his account in the grimoire is to be believed. The man hadn't thought much of the results of the potion until nearly a fortnight later when he was suddenly engaged to the love of his life who had scorned him for years previously (he was never much of a looker with gleaming eyes and manic grins and hair always a mess from generations of potions exploding in faces). Indeed, everything in his life had seemed to take an upturn for the better. More gold, more food, more attention and renown, and the love of a beautiful woman. And the only visual side effects were his slightly shimmering skin and newly unnerving bright golden eyes.
When two years passed and his wife gave birth to his first-born son, it was with surprise and worry that he noticed his son had inherited the golden tan. And when his eyes were revealed to be brown like his beautiful wife's but with swirling flecks of gold, it was with more worry that the wizard went back over his notes from the brew that changed his life. He tried brewing it once more, with the exact same ingredients and the exact same specifications as before, but while his previous brew had been angry and brilliant, the re-make had been dull and lifeless. He would puzzle over this mystery for years, always trying to recreate his first masterpiece to only get the same result.
It was when his son grew old enough to begin learning the family craft that he finally understood just what sort of magic he had managed to create. While the wizard had burns and slight disfigurements from his childhood and adult potions experiments, his son was continuously mark free. That isn't to say his brews didn't explode just as often, just that instead of getting harmed, the boy always miraculously stayed complete and whole and unhurt. As the wizard continued to watch his son and document his progress, he began to notice that it wasn't just within the potions lab that his son's fortune flew. Good things just seemed to happen to the young Potter. And when his son's wife gave birth to a son with a golden tan and partly golden eyes who was just as lucky as his father, he wasn't as surprised or shocked. And thus, the Potter family's famous luck was born.