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When Lily was six she helped Sev run away from his horrid dad, who always smelt like sweat and the dust from building sites and alcohol. She’d told mum and dad, and she’d told Tuney and she’d even told the teachers but no one ever did anything. So one day she decided if the adults in charge weren’t going to listen to save Sev, then she might as well. They were going to go on holiday to somewhere in Greece, and Lily had begged and pleaded for Sev to come along too. Eventually mum and dad, looking awfully sorry at Sev’s unwashed clothes for the hundredth time, said yes.

Sev’s horrid dad wouldn’t let him go though, and Lily cried and Tuney laughed at her when they thought Sev would have to stay behind after all, but eventually mum went round to speak to Sev’s mum and got permission. Sev’s dad had to go along with it because Diane in her class said the whole street was starting to talk about Sev’s horrid dad being awful mean about not letting Sev go on holiday. And maybe Diane was worse than Tuney when it came to making things sound like more of a big deal than they really were, but Diane also made a stupid stuck up face whenever Sev was near, and now she almost sounded like she was on his side, so there had to be something true in there.

Even though they got permission Sev still wouldn’t speak to her for two whole days, because he knew Lily had begged mum to do something before his mum had received that unexpected house call. Mum was always kinder to Sev than dad. But he said that his horrid dad had been embarrassed that his mum had given permission and really angry with her. Lily didn’t understand why that was her fault when she’d been working really hard to give him such a huge gift. She thought he was very ungrateful and told him so. Either way, Sev had been upset with her and so she apologised to him and easily forgave him when he did the same.

And Sev could come with them to Greece. Lily had been reading wildlife survival books that were a little bit more difficult to understand than what she usually read, but she’d been very determined. They were also for boys and she’d been teased some in class for reading boy books, and Tuney had said some mean things too, but Sev had stuck up for her so it had been okay.

Tuney had been horribly embarrassed to be seen with Sev at the airport and had refused to even look at Lily and Sev as they held hands so as not to get lost or separated. She was still angry with Lily for inviting Sev along on their family holiday, and for causing such a fuss about it. Lily didn’t care though, she knew she had to get this right the first time or she’d never get another chance. She hadn’t told Sev, or anyone what she planned to do in Greece.

The Greek countryside was lovely and Sev and Lily played and swam in the pool everyday. Mum and dad were distracted by some scandal at dad’s work shortly before they left. Some sort of television series about war being cancelled, Lily didn’t really care. The place they were staying was right in front of a huge amount of trees - more trees in one place than Lily had ever seen before. Apparently no one lived in them at all, and there were barely any roads going through them. Sev and Lily and Tuney weren’t allowed to go beyond the tree line though.

Tuney tried to scare Sev and Lily one night by telling them that people got lost in there and were never seen again. Sev’s breath had shaken a little even though he pretended to be brave, but his hand had been clammy and squeezing Lily’s hand way too tight. Lily had tried not to smile, because it sounded perfect.

Three days before they had to go back to England - with a golden tan for Lily and orangey blonde bits in her hair and freckles across her nose, with a healthy colour and shape in Sev’s usually ill looking face and shorter hair because he’d become too hot in the Greek sun with its blackest black colour - Lily packed the things she’d gathered sneakily that they would need, in a bag for her and a bag for Sev. Then she’d crept past a sleeping Tuney, and over to Sev’s room, and quietly woken him up. He’d been sleepy and confused, but he’d done as he was told when she said to put his shoes on and follow her.

She took his hand, shushing him when he asked questions, and she led him outside, into the trees. They walked for ages before Sev pulled his hand from Lily’s and asked in a less confused voice where they were going. Lily knew that even if Sev decided he’d rather go back to find her parents so they could take him back to England and back to his horrid dad, that he wouldn’t be able to find his way without her. She also knew that he might be upset or angry with her, but she wouldn’t change her mind even if he hit her with a branch using his magic like he did one time with Tuney.

Lily had decided that Sev was better away from his horrid dad and England altogether if the adults in charge there never did anything. She cared about Sev a lot, and she also cared about doing the right thing, even if it was difficult and people didn’t agree with her. So she was very generously willing to run away from her own family and take Sev with her. Even if he was mad at her at first, he’d see it her way soon.

They had everything she thought they would need for at least a week, and Sev was really good with plants, and Lily had been reading a lot. Anything else that they needed could be sorted out with their magic, because Lily was really good at using her magic to do what she wanted it to now, especially when she was outside and around plants and rocks and things.

So she had squared her shoulders to look confident, and told Sev firmly that they were running away and were going to live in the woods in Greece from now on. Sev had stared at her with big surprised eyes, and she right that at first he seemed very upset, but Lily had never lost an argument with Sev before and she wasn’t starting now. He always saw it her way eventually, no matter how much time it took.

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The three weeks during which her little girl and Severus Snape were missing were the worst of Mrs Evan’s life. Waking up to check on Lily and Petunia, who were usually up long before she or her husband were, she didn’t think much of the empty room, until after her keen eyes realised that the room was far emptier than usual. Half of Lily’s belongings were missing.

A little suspicious but not thinking much on it, she went downstairs to make breakfast, only to find Petunia the sole person waiting for her, very pink faced and upset looking. It didn’t take more than a second for Petunia to begin heatedly telling her that Lily and ‘Snape’ were probably playing in the woods where they had been told not to go. There were wild boar in the woods which could be very dangerous.

It was an hour later that they got concerned when there was no sign of either of them no matter where they searched. Mrs Evans had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that got worse and worse as the time ticked by. By early afternoon they had called the expat who owned the country cottage they were staying in, who spoke Greek and called the police for them.

She and her husband made frantic arrangements in order to extend their stay in Greece, when a day went by and there was no sign of either of them. Mrs Evans was distraught, Petunia would hardly speak, and Mr Evans sporadically went for angry walks around the property. As the days moved terrifyingly onward, they began to lose hope.

Three weeks after Lily and Severus went missing, she and her husband stared silently out of the windows at night, as it rained for the first time that summer, aching for the return of their daughter. The next morning, hand in hand, walking out of the tree line like they’d gone for nothing more than a quick exploration just beyond, both of them appeared.

They were damp and cool from the rain last night and the still lower temperatures. Severus had lost what meat they’d managed to put on his face, and Lily looked wan too. They both had dark circles underneath their eyes, and a myriad of scrapes and bruises. Severus was limping, having badly twisted his ankle, and Lily’s hair was a horrific tangled mess. Both children were dirty, and their clothes were ripped, and Severus had sunburn across the bridge of his nose.

They were both cold, starving, desperately thirsty and dirty. But beyond a deeper scrape here or there and Severus’ ankle, neither of them were too worse for wear after a meal, a wash and a nap.

Neither Severus nor Lily would speak a word of what happened. They were quiet and still, holding each other’s hands tightly and refusing to be parted for a good three days afterward. Severus was more solemn and withdrawn than even before, and when he did speak there was an edge of temper there that hadn’t existed so continuously three weeks earlier. Lily too was quiet and removed. At first Mrs Evans was just too relieved to have her baby back to care, and then concerned at what had happened. She chalked Lily’s attitude up to the shock and trauma of the whole incident.

But time went by, and she began to notice that they were both different. Severus was moodier, and more clingy than ever to Lily, he barely spoke to Mrs Evans when he visited and he preferred to play with Lily outside in all weathers, seeming more at ease when he wasn’t around other people. Lily on the other hand, was more subtle in her differences.

She seemed fine at first, and like she was recovering from her ordeal, but Mrs Evans noticed that her little girl was less inclined to follow rules that didn’t suit her, she cared less what others said about her, she didn’t cry when she was told off any more but just stared back with these sharp eyes that although were the same colour as her husband, no longer resembled him. It was like she was a step back from the world half the time, watching it through a cautious gaze that saw far too much. She was more stubborn than ever when she did get angry, and less apologetic when she hurt others with her words.

When she lost her temper it became an overwhelming, uncontrollable burst of flame, and then she would disappear before the other person could recover. She, like Severus, spent far more time outside than she had ever done. They went places that Mrs Evans knew were banned, and ran wild.

That was the word for it. Lily was a little more wild. Concerned, she’d spoken to her husband about it, and they’d tried to get Lily to spend more time playing with the other little girls her age, or even with Petunia. After some effort and time, Lily and Severus became less disconcertingly close to each other, and Mrs Evans had hope that she’d start clamping down on some of her less decent behaviour.

It didn’t work. If anything, Mrs Evans realised that Severus might have been tempering Lily some. Without Severus around all the time to run off with, Lily went off on her own. She was gone for the whole day sometimes- before they’d woken up and long after curfew. She was desperately worried, but nothing she said or did ever got through to her daughter.

Nobody else seemed to notice anything outside of the household. Lily was still a very bright student, and she wasn’t a fuss in class, nor did she bother anyone. So when a letter came, alongside a teacher, with tales of wizards and witches and magic, Mrs Evans and her husband were relieved more than anything, because surely this explained things. Surely Lily’s untameable oddness could be explained by her being a witch.

To discover that Lily had known all along, and that Severus was magic too... well it settled something in Mrs Evans heart. Lily was different, and so was Severus, but that was okay because there was an explanation for it, and she was going somewhere to people who knew how to handle that. Petunia was upset but she wouldn’t open up to Mrs Evans or her husband - she was too old for that now according to her eldest.

What glimpses she got of the world of magic, like Diagon Alley, were a delight and she began to feel real excitement for Lily. There was something bright and vivacious and unstoppable about her untameable little girl, and she just knew that with this magic, Lily could do anything.

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Lily’s weatherworn hands scrabbled through the undergrowth, patting the dirt frantically in the search for where she thought her wand had landed earlier. Just as her heart jumped in heady relief at the familiar willow wood under her fingertips, a chilling howl reverberated through the night. Her ashen, blood-flecked face shot up with a stricken expression; it was coming from the wrong direction.

“Harry!” The hoarse scream ripped from her throat. She pressed her hand to the oozing wound in her side with a pained curse, and then, adorning a fierce snarl, she forced her aching, bleeding legs to move.

Despite the deep claw marks dripping along her strong calves, the thick canopy obscuring the moon’s light, the throbbing agony of the wound that shot fire through her torso with every heartbeat, the grass that snatched at her feet, and fronds that whipped her as she ran, her fleet-footed pace never faltered and her direction remained sure.

The cool night air stung its way in and out of her lungs as she raced her way toward danger – toward where she had last seen her son. Her keen jade eyes quickly spotted the subtle evidence that told her where to go from imprints in the dirt, flattened bracken, snapped brushwood, and the occasional concerning drops of blood - black under the dim light. She could only pray it was all her own from when she had stood between her son and the moon-crazed predator.

Over the sound of her rasping breath and thrumming heart, her ears caught the echoing growls of both her goals - one far deeper and more sinister than the other frightened but endlessly courageous voice; they were far too close to each other.

A pained yell pierced her heart, vicious snarls and thumps raising goosebumps along her arms.

“HARRY!” She sped up in desperation, the sounds of a struggle becoming louder as she got closer, twigs lashing thin red lines across her face. Her blood went cold as a distressed shriek cut inhumanly through the air at the same time as any audible signs of her son went abruptly silent. Canine whimpers lingered, leading off in the opposite direction to her.

“HARRY!” She repeated frantically, bursting through the brush what felt like an eternity later, panting harshly as she took in the scene before with bewildered horror.

Blood liberally decorated the clearing, trailing off toward the increasingly diminishing whimpers. Just outside a barren circle, ringed by a cluster of mushrooms, lay Harry’s wand. Liquid lightly splattered the dirt circle, and the compressed marks revealed where her son had dragged himself to stand his ground. A heavy feel in the air pricked at the back of Lily’s neck and stood her hair on end.

She cast her gaze back and forth across the clearing with increasing panic. “Harry, where are you?!”

There was nothing to indicate Harry had left the mushroom ring.

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It was dark when James finally managed to escape the exhausting, if eventually satisfying, meeting with the Abbott matriarch. He groaned and stretched, trying to ease the kink in his lower back from the uncomfortable antique chairs of the Abbott house, then wearily ran his fingers through his messy locks as he checked his pocket watch in dreaded anticipation.

He sighed at the time, drooping in defeat. Archie was going to kill him; he’d told the kid he’d be back in time to see him off to bed, but it was just passing two in the morning. Loosening the buttons of his stiff formal robes, he didn’t bother stopping off at home to change his clothes, deciding that he’d likely kept Sirius and Remus up long enough waiting for him – assuming they hadn’t given up and fallen asleep themselves.

Wand in hand, he spun once on his heel and disapparated with a harsh crack. His arrival was heralded by a similar crack, adjusting his leather satchel, tucking his wand away, and making a concerted effort to straighten his wearily slumped posture. He allowed himself a yawn, before he made his way toward the large country cottage which sat sweetly in amidst the wild boscage that stretched for miles. Enticing yellow light shone through the closed curtains, speeding up James’ steps along the stone path toward it.

He didn’t bother knocking on the cheerful red door, already keyed into the deceptively rigorous wards. He poked his head into the hallway, ear peeled for any signs of waking life, donning a care-free grin.

“Knock knock,” he called out, careful not to raise his voice too much.

“Prongs?” James followed the voice of his best friend into the living room, where he found both Sirius and Remus draped casually on the sofa. Remus perked up from where he had clearly been falling asleep, nose dipped into a half finished book, while Sirius had been entertaining himself by throwing peanuts up into the air and catching them in his mouth – with mixed success judging by the stray nuts littering the floor.

“What time do you call this?” Remus scolded, only half joking.

“Oh, lecture him in the morning, Moony,” Sirius waved him off, “Sit down, James, you must be knackered.”

James gave them both a rueful smile and rubbed the back of his neck as he entered the room properly. He sat in the comfortable armchair with a grateful sigh and sank back into it, appreciating how the cool summer breeze drifted across his face from the open window.

“Sorry for how bloody late it is; Dowager Abbott is a right battle-axe of a woman. That old girl could turn someone to stone with her gaze, I swear,” he gave a theatrical shudder, “She reminds me of my mother when she caught Sirius and me with that bludger in the portrait hall.”

The three men grinned in fond remembrance of the deceased woman, usually so soft and sweet-natured but with a dragon’s temper when provoked.

“But she agreed to support you?” Sirius prompted, leaning forward with interest.

James hummed in agreement, “She’s got some reservations but, for the time being, she’ll back the Evans Foundation by putting word out among her lot and offering a couple of her smaller properties up to house in-need werewolves.”

“That’s great! It’s a good start,” Sirius nodded emphatically, turning to nudge Remus who, as always, looked a little disquieted at the topic, “Isn’t that great, Moony?”

The scarred man made reluctant eye contact with them both and gave a smile that was weak at the edges. “Very generous of her. She didn’t have to do so much.”

Sirius scoffed, “If you ask me, that’s the least light families like hers should be doing. But it’s a start. Maybe next time she’ll agree for more open support about the bullshit legislation vote your prick of a cousin is pushing for. Sway the numbers a bit more to our side.”

There was a moment of tense gloom at the mention of both James’ most ardent opposition, and the upcoming Wizangamot vote on legislative change that would severely impact those who the Evans Foundation sought to protect the most.

Remus cleared his throat meaningfully, hesitated, and then clearly changed his mind on whatever he was going to say. “I’m assuming you’re staying the night, then.”

“Course he is. No point in going home now just to show back up tomorrow morning,” Sirius confirmed.

James shrugged. “Sure. Makes sense. Don’t suppose you have any dinner left over, Remmy?”

A flick of Remus’ wand in the direction of the kitchen, followed by the floating appearance of a steaming plate of food, answered the question. James rubbed his hands together with a gleeful grin at the smell and sat up.

“How was Archie today, by the way?”

Knowing better than to bother with any kind of ceremony at his friends’ home, James ravenously dug in, relaxing into the comfortable atmosphere as Remus and Sirius lightly conveyed the three-man quidditch match, the numerous pranks Sirius had continued to teach Archie, and the help Remus had provided with charms theory - being the one exam the young Potter had somewhat fumbled on that year.

“He helped cook, too. He’s getting pretty good at it. Better than Sirius by a mile,” Remus teased; the grey-eyed man didn’t even try to deny his dearth of skill in the kitchen.

James, finished with his meal, frowned as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and sent the bowl floating back to the kitchen. “I thought he was going to be over by the seaside playing with some kids around his age until evening today. Did that… not work out?”

Remus and Sirius glanced at each other, before Sirius admitted, “He didn’t want to stay long.”

James slumped back into the chair, guilt pulling at his features into something burdened and weary. “It’s because of me again, isn’t it.”

“James, you can’t blame yourself for other people’s prejudices. Not when you know you’re doing the right thing, mate,” the dog animagus rebutted.

“I should be able to protect him from things like this. He shouldn’t be lacking friends and having a hard time because of who his dad is. I hate that he won’t even talk to me about it. I don’t suppose he’s said anything else to you?”

Remus shook his head. “Not really. Just that he’d had rocks thrown at him; he only said that much because I had to heal his eyebrow. There were enough kids there today that it was easy for him to avoid admitting more than that.”

James clenched his fists angrily for a moment. “Little shits. I wish he would come to me about these things,” he roughly pulled his hand through his hair, “He doesn’t tell me anything, anymore.”

Sirius shrugged helplessly. “He’s almost a teenager. It’s not that surprising that he’s not asking you to solve his problems. Besides, at least he’s still sort of willing to speak to Moony and me; who knows how long that’s going to last.”

“Yeah,” James sighed in defeat, “Still, I’ll see if I can talk to him about it tomorrow - after I’ve groveled for how late I finished.”

At the mention of the time, Remus checked the clock on the mantlepiece. “Merlin, it’s 3am.”

“Damn it, sleep is long overdue for all of us,” James groaned. They all stood up with a variety of grumbles and yawns, Sirius spelling away the peanuts littering the place before Remus stood on one and noticed the mess.

As they collectively shuffled off out of the living room, Remus leant over to close the window. A soft breeze swept across his face from outside and he froze, his amber eyes lightening.

“I smell blood.” His voice carried a strength unusual for him, rough undertones revealing slight hints of his predator nature.

James and Sirius turned to him, eyebrows raised and hands already creeping toward their wands.

“Blood?” Sirius ventured, cautiously. Remus gave another whiff at the open window.

“Human blood,” he confirmed, grimly, “The wind is coming from the direction of the forest.”

The cottage garden backed onto a Black-owned forest that, while not as wild as the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, contained a vast magical eco-system. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that someone could be injured by a creature in there, especially at night. Though, considering the relatively isolated property, what someone was doing close enough to the cottage that Remus could smell them was another question entirely.

“Remus, you stay here and make sure no one tries to enter the house. Keep an ear out for Archie, just in case. Sirius will have an easier time tracking as Padfoot than you will, and he’ll need someone there as wand power in case we’re faced with hostility.” James quickly took charge, his auror days as Sirius’ partner immediately coming back to him.

“Attach a light to me so you don’t lose me in the dark, Prongs,” Sirius added, before he swiftly changed into the beast of a dog that was his animagus form.

A quick spell from James had a light floating a few meters above Padfoot, checking that Remus was ready to hold down the fort, and the two best friends were off out the door; Padfoot’s nose took rapid sniffs of the air while James walked behind with his wand out, warily.

James followed Padfoot’s rapid beeline for the black silhouette of the trees, the new moon offering no illumination, his adrenaline surging through him and making him wish he was wearing something less formal that allowed for freedom of movement.

Amongst the typical night time country noises of crickets, the scurrying of rodents, and the odd hoot of an owl, there was nothing that gave away the presence of danger to James’ ears; though, he was sure that even if something was out there, Padfoot would be able to both hear and smell it long before he would.

They made quiet, cautious, but swift progress deeper into the depths of the forest, completely unable to make out any light but that cast from the spell bobbing above Padfoot.

Eventually, after around ten minutes, Padfoot slowed down. James saw his hackles raise, and suddenly became aware that the night-time noises had stopped. The unnatural silence had a shiver running through him and he raised his wand higher, casting a wide-eyed glance around.

“Padfoot? You still smell blood?” He checked; his voice hushed. Padfoot whuffed in confirmation. “Is it close?” Another whuff.

James released a steadying breath and wet his lips. “Right. We’ll go carefully, then.”

They crept forward, their senses heightened and the tension mounting with every second that the silence deepened. James felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he began to feel a heaviness in the air that spoke of powerful magic.

“You feel that?” He checked. Padfoot didn’t reply, but the hair standing on end told him everything he needed to know.

Sweat began to itch down his back as the heaviness reached uncomfortable levels. But both animagus and wizard continued unerringly onward.

James’ eyes flicked searchingly for a cause when Padfoot abruptly stopped; but nothing appeared to have changed. The greyhound animagus gave a quiet ruff, his nose and eyes pointing like an arrow at something beyond James’ senses.

With a flick of his wrist, another light spun from his wand toward where his best friend was staring, revealing a clearing about fifteen feet in front of them. Neither James nor Sirius had ever been this deep into the forest before and had had no idea of the clearing’s existence.

“In there?” James asked.

Padfoot whuffed and they slowly approached, only to come across the disturbing sight of a half severed human arm.

“What in Merlin’s name…” James stared in confused disgust at the limb, sitting just outside a string of mushrooms that circled a patch of dirt free from any vegetation. He quickly scanned the rest of the small clearing, but could see was no other sign of the owner of the severed arm.

“It looks like an adult male’s arm, and there’s plenty of blood but not enough. Maybe he was splinched?” He mused, taking in the lack of blood trail signaling whoever the arm belonged to had physically stuck around.

Sirius gave a low bark, capturing James’ attention. The animagus was stood within the circle, snuffling at the dirt with urgency. When James approached, he could see that there was another splatter of blood, far smaller than that caused by the arm, and with no obvious source.

Taking a closer look, he could see what had caught Padfoot’s focus; The dark drops staining the dirt travelled out of the circle, back into the trees on the other side of the clearing, and the marks on the dry ground gave away that whoever it had come from was injured enough that they’d needed to drag themselves along the forest floor.

Padfoot lifted his head and inhaled deeply, before leading the way across the clearing and back into the pitch black of the forest. The silence was no less unnerving leading away from the gory scene as they followed the stray drops that marked the path of whoever was injured.

James was relieved by the time they managed to get far enough that the sound of country wildlife started up again around him, the heaviness in the air diminishing and then disappearing altogether. By the time Padfoot gave indication that their hunt was coming to and end by his pointedly slowing pace, James could only feel impressed by the tenacity of the person who had dragged themselves along the ground such a distance, wounded severely enough that they hadn’t stopped bleeding the entire time.

When Padfoot was abruptly replaced by Sirius, James jumped and almost swore loudly. He took a moment to recover, glaring at the unrepentant Black, before straightening and asking, “Where are they?”

Sirius pointed his wand in front of him. “Right over there. I think they’re pretty young from the sound of their breathing.”

“Not a threat, then,” James guessed, inferring from the sound of his best friend’s confident tone.

A shake of his head confirmed James’ suspicions. “I doubt it. There was no movement while I could hear them, and they sounded pretty rough.”

Knowing better than to get overconfident, but now more concerned with helping than defending, both men carefully walked forward.

“I’m going to go round the other side, just in case they try to run.” Sirius kept his volume low and, with a nod from James, peeled away into the darkness.

James continued onward; eyes trained ahead. Trees revealed themselves one by one out of the gloom, and before long a labored panting reached his ears, directing his eyes. He followed the sound, ensuring he made little of his own. Concern pinched his mouth as a low groan of pain came from the dark bundle that was just starting to be visible, tucked up against the roots of a large tree.

Wary of any defensive reaction from the injured person, James didn’t lower his wand as he got closer. They flinched once the light reached them, tucking their face away. James was dismayed to see that it was a young man – no, not even that; it was a boy.

The boy’s bloodied hand clutched worryingly at his slick shoulder, which dripped slowly but consistently. It was impossible to tell just how bad the injury was under all the blood, or if there were multiple. Aware that the boy must be feeling frightened, James lowered himself into a crouch a few feet away.

“Hey,” he softly called, “I’m here to help you. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy’s black hair and part of his jaw was all he could see; there was something familiar…

“Are you awake? There are medical supplies back at the house that might be able to heal you. Can I take a look at your injury? You might need St Mungos.” James moved closer as the boy shifted. His heart leapt into his throat when the boy turned his face toward him.

“Archie!?” He cried, forgetting for a moment that the hair colour was wrong, reaching out to his son. The boy’s eyes shot open and James choked at the sight of wary eyes, glazed with pain, searing him with the hauntingly familiar jade of Lily Evans Potter.

He stared, frozen with mesmerizing agony at the child who bore a dead woman’s eyes set into his own face, for what felt like an age, before he was snapped back into reality by those same eyes rolling up into the backs of their sockets. He leapt to catch the boy as he collapsed forward unconscious.

Sirius quickly revealed himself just as he stood, cradling the child in his arms. “I heard you say Archie’s name,” he demanded.

James shook his head, not taking his eyes off the boy. “It’s not Archie. He just…”

“James?” Sirius enquired, concerned, “Do you recognise him? Do we need to get him to St Mungos? We at least need to contact the aurors about the arm.”

He tightened his grip on the boy and looked determinedly at his friend. “He has Lily’s eyes, Sirius. He has my face.”

Sirius stared at him in shock that slowly morphed into sympathetic disbelief. “James, I… Harry’s dead. You know that.” He spoke softly, his words filled with the grief they had all shared for over a decade.

James swallowed against the old ache that swelled in his throat whenever he thought of Harry and Lily. “I know. I’m not saying- I don’t… He needs to stay with us until I know what’s going on here,” and then he added, “Unless he needs St Mungos, there’s no harm in looking after him ourselves.”

He felt his best friend’s searching gaze bore into his skull, even while his own found itself fixed once more onto the boy in his arms. He heard an exhale from the other and knew before the man opened his mouth that he would agree.

“Okay, fine. Only if Remus thinks he can be healed without a professional.”

They made their way back toward the cottage, James keeping one eye on Padfoot and one eye on the boy, questions spinning dizzily through his mind as he walked; Who was he? Where did he come from? Who were his parents? How did he get here?