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The Cloak - his father’s gift for his eleventh birthday - allows Harry to walk by unnoticed, protecting him as always from prying eyes. He stops quietly at the Entrance Hall and glimpses inside the Great Hall.
It is full, but it’s easy to find his parents by his father’s messy hair and his mother’s auburn hair; they are talking quietly to each other.
They are grave, but when Harry looks at them, he sees beyond the dirty and the cuts on their faces and the marks of the battle; he even sees beyond the First War heroes that everyone else thinks of them. He sees his parents.
Mum and Dad.
Somehow, at the end of his journey, it is easy to remember all the good moments. He thinks about his father’s warm grin when he was patiently teaching Harry how to fly, encouraging him to go higher, to never give up, to enjoy some risks now and then; about James’ hazel eyes looking proud and exasperated at him, whenever Harry had been involved in one of his adventures over the years; and about the way James Potter never let him down, always providing comfort and help whenever Harry asked for it.
Looking at a face that is so like his own, Harry just wants his father to mess his hair one more time (‘ Dad, come on’ , he would complain, even though he always enjoyed how that made his hair look like his father’s), to tell him everything will be okay if he just never gives up, to listen to one of his father’s Marauder tales, because now he thinks of it, he always took him for granted. Even with the death threats and the war, he always thought of his father as invincible, always thought he would have one more moment with him.
He wonders what his father is whispering to his mother right now and knowing he will never hear his father’s calm reasonable words again almost break him.
Even at distance, even amongst chaos and destruction, Harry thinks he can see the way his mother’s eyes seem to shine with a determination that Voldemort could never take away. It’s the eyes Harry inherited and the eyes that made Snape give his life for. He wonders why his mother never talked about being once friends with Snape and he realizes now how many things he never thought of asking her. More about her life at Hogwarts; more about her sister; more about her work, her dreams. There is a world of Lily Potter that he never got to know.
Like with his father, he took his mother for granted too, thinking there would be time later to do all these things he never rushed to. He wishes he had hugged her more, had really shown how much he loves her and how much he is grateful for having her supporting him in every moment of his life.
And he wishes he had one more minute with her, to hear her amused laughter at something his father said, to see that sparkle of mischief in her eyes, to feel her loving arms around him protecting him more effective than any charm could.
But Harry knows he is lying to himself because one minute would not be enough. He could stay there forever watching them and it still would be too short to see his parents together.
Even now, when they are looking tired and worn from the battle, for once looking like their real age, he thinks they still shine together, James and Lily Potter, whose love cast a blood protection and saved Harry so many times before.
But this time, it’s Harry’s love for them that shall save them.
It’s fitting, he thinks, and it’s fair; he already had seventeen wonderful years with them. The only thing that hurts is knowing how much they will suffer when he is gone, how much they won’t understand that Harry did it for them. He is facing Voldemort this one last time because his mother taught him to never stand for bigotry and because his father taught him to always do the right thing.
Harry hopes they will eventually be happy and at peace.
And he knows they will see each other again someday.
They are in each other’s arms, his dad kissing his mum tenderly on the forehead, and Harry records in his mind this last image of his parents, using it as much as a Patronus to walk him through the dementors, to give him the final courage to face Voldemort and to sacrifice himself.
When Harry opens the Snitch and finds the Resurrection Stone, James and Lily don’t show up.
One minute.
Being at war the first time had taught James that sometimes, even in the middle of the chaos of the battle, you need one minute to stop and breath, one minute to let panic take over you until you are able to think straight again and focus on what needs to be done.
Lily is in his arms and he lets himself enjoy this one minute because when it’s over he knows there is work to be done. People need help - so many of them are hurt and there are so many corpses that need to be laid down. It's war and blood and his hearts burns with sorrow for all that has been lost and knowing there is still more loss to come. They haven't won yet.
But Lily is hugging him - he doesn’t know who is supporting who - and he lets her familiar scent fill him, calm him, take him to a place where he remembers why he is fighting for.
It’s for her - it’s always been for her - and it’s for Harry too. Their son.
He takes a deep breath and then his one minute is up. James places a soft kiss on her forehead, like he has done uncountable times before, and ignores his fear that this will be the last kiss he ever gives her.
Despair never helps. Hope is all he has and he will cling to it. Somehow, he knows, this will be over soon. One way or another.
But he concentrates only on one way now, believing that Harry has a plan. He hasn't seen his son since before Voldemort had called for that cease-fire, but he saw Ron and Hermione and if they are fine, Harry is fine too.
It's not easy to accept that so much lies on his seventeen-year-old son, but he trusts Harry. Whatever else James may have done in his life, his greatest achievement will always be how he and Lily raised their son - how he is a fine young man with his heart in the right place.
And when this is over, Harry will get to finally live at peace.
It's easier to think about the possibilities of the future than to think about how many young lives were lost that day, and how much destruction Voldemort has caused, but he vows they will rebuild everything. Their faith, Hogwarts, the belief in something good. They will make a better world.
James lays down a boy that looks young in death enough to be his son, and he tries not to think about how frail the boy seems and how easily it could be Harry.
No, no despair. Like he always tells Harry, good things can come if you just never give up. And while James is breathing, he will fight. He thinks of that Halloween night many years ago, when he thought he would die and was willing to just to give Harry and Lily more time - he would happily exchange his life for them if it meant they would be safe…
'Mr. Potter?', he hears a soft voice calling him, and when he turns, James sees the distressed face of Ginny Weasley. 'Professor McGonagall told me to call you, she needs assistance with reinforcing the barriers outside'.
James nods.
'I'll be right there. And it's James, Ginny'.
She looks at him, her brown eyes for once without any shadow of her usual joyfulness, and James thinks that, like Harry, she had to grow up too fast.
'I think I'll stick with Mr. Potter for a while longer', she says, and James suddenly understands. Ginny always called him formally, just to tease him. If she starts calling him James now, it would look too much like as if this is their last conversation.
They both need to believe there will be more time later.
'Fine, future Mrs. Potter', he says at least and that almost makes her smile.
When they leave the castle and are about to go separate ways in the grounds, she turns to him with a troubled face.
'Have you seen Harry?', Ginny asks, and he can hear a fear in her voice that makes him shiver.
'No, but he must be fine', he says, because he can't think of any other alternative.
'Hermione told me he had something to see', says Ginny, almost to herself. 'And that she thinks he went upstairs, but I could swear I felt…'
She stops herself, shaking her head, and looks in the direction of the forest.
'But?', James presses, even as his instincts tell him he doesn't want to know her feelings.
'Nothing', Ginny says, her tone making it clear that she also doesn't want to think of the worst. 'I am sure he is just planning the next move. Lily's son is actually very smart, you know?'
James accepts her teasing.
'I'll let you know half that smartness is mine'.
'I thought he took from you the part where he is always in trouble'.
'No, he took from me the part where he always gets out of trouble', James says and for a moment they exchange a soft smile.
Then Ginny blinks.
'Good luck with the charms', she says, and with a final nod, she leaves him.
James watches her go briefly and thinks that, when this is over, he and his son will need a serious conversation about ending very good relationships for stupid noble reasons.
For the next fifteen minutes, he works tirelessly, helping reinforce the castle magical barriers and rebuild the entrance door so they can better control the situation. Death Eaters have the numbers, he knows, but as Remus always says, numbers don't win battles. If they can focus the main battle in the Great Hall, then a limited number of Death Eaters will be able to enter and they will have a better chance against Voldemort himself if he fulfils his promise to come...
And then James can watch the last duel between his son and Voldemort, and the mere thought of it fills him with dread. He can't just watch . He has to be there for Harry, he has to be side by side with his son because he would never let Harry alone -
'Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone'.
He doesn't hear any more of what Voldemort is saying, because his mind is screaming in denial. No, no, no.
Voldemort is lying. Harry would never run away, would never die . Harry would never sacrifice himself so they could all get a chance -
Except his noble brave wonderful son would certainly do it.
One minute , he thinks madly. I will believe in it for one minute then I will see it's a lie.
When he sees Hagrid carrying him, that one minute never ends.
There are minutes that seem longer than others.
Sometimes this is good. Lily can remember a minute of pure laughter with Dorcas and Marlene in the girl's dormitory many years ago; the reason for the laughter is long forgotten, gone as her friends, but the memory of that happy silly moment stayed.
Or the first time she woke up next to James, with his arms still around her, his breath slow and soft, and she had seen his sleeping face and thought she really loved him - they had said that to each other the night before, but in that one minute of silence and peace (before James had woken and tickled her and made her giggle and kissed her), she had just basked in that feeling of loving.
Or that one minute she had stayed longer in the bathroom, looking at the pregnancy test that said that despite being unplanned, despite the horrible timing, she and James had created a life together - their love had made him, their son. She had looked at the test, her hand in her still flat belly, and for one minute it was her and her baby only before she left to share the news with James.
There are other bad minutes, but Lily tries not to think of them. She is optimistic, as much as she is realistic. Life is made of good and bad moments; she just chooses to focus more on the good ones than let herself despair with the bad ones.
So she focuses on her task ahead, handling potions as people ask for them, her mind always thinking what ingredients work better for the problems people are facing - cuts and burns and acromantula venom…
When there is a moment of tranquillity (that doesn't fool her - it's just the calm before the storm), Lily lets herself look around. James must be out in the grounds - he always felt better at open spaces -, but she still can't find Harry. He must be busy, her poor hard-working son. He will not rest until -
A shiver runs through her body, inexplicable and cold, and she thinks of that expression her mother used - like if someone walked in her grave.
It's silly, of course, it is probably only that fear and adrenaline before a battle, the one that James always tells her to use in her favour to sharpen her senses.
Except she is not fearing for herself. She thinks of Harry, her little happy baby whose eyes always seems to shine with pure amusement to the fact that he is alive. She thinks of seeing him growing up, coming of age as a beautiful brave man, and just like she used to do when he was a baby in his crib, she thinks she could watch him forever and it would not be enough.
He is her precious son. The one she would die for without hesitation because all she wants is for him to be safe. Harry must be fine.
And still that feeling lingers, threatening to crush her, as if a dementor - the thing she always feared the most - is right next to her, sucking all happiness and hope, and Lily thinks madly that she needs James right now, needs his arms evolving her to make her feel at home. His presence always has a soothing effect on her, with the way he kisses her forehead and he is so warm.
With James, she always feels everything will be ok. Not just for her, but for their family.
But she is alone now and she is cold and Lily swallows a cry that seems to come from her chest. There is no apparent reason for that unfathomable fear, there is nothing different. People are still waking around her, helping where they can or comforting the hurt ones or the people who lost someone or else just finding their loved ones -
Love.
And then, just as suddenly at it came, that feeling is gone as if taken by a light breeze. There is only a shadow of it on her heart, like a scar of a long-healed injury, but that uneasiness is gone, and Lily raises her eyes to the enchanted ceiling almost expecting the dawn to break.
It is still dark outside, but dawn cannot be too far. A new day brings new hope, her mother always said.
But then Lord Voldemort’s voice is ringing through the room and she hears his words, understands them, but she doesn’t believe him.
Harry can’t be dead . Voldemort didn’t kill him sixteen years ago, he won’t kill Harry now. Her love - her and James’ - protected him.
Except the protection ended when he came of age.
Lily walks outside feeling like she is gliding more like a ghost than walking like a human being, and there are people around her but she doesn’t notice them - maybe Molly is gripping her arms, maybe Neville (that amazing young man who would have made Frank and Alice so proud) is calling her name. She doesn’t know, she can’t do anything but oblige to that urge to go outside and see for herself that Voldemort is lying.
‘No!’, someone screams and she thinks it’s Professor McGonagall, who once wrote for her and James to tell them their son had been made the youngest seeker in the century, and they could read the pleasure and pride in her letter.
McGonagall had always favoured James and Lily, and Lily always thought that favouritism had also been extended to Harry, no matter how McGonagall would deny it.
That was a cry of despair. She never thought McGonagall could make such a sound, but Minerva must be mistaken, there is no other -
And then Ron and Hermione are crying too, and Lily thinks of how they are Harry’s family as much as she and James; she thinks how Harry always had loyal friends just as Sirius and Remus were always there for James. She trusts Ron and Hermione - trusts their love - to guide and protect Harry and to be by his side no matter what; Ron was always the heart and Hermione was always the mind and together she knows Harry had the best friends in the world that he could have.
No, not that he had. He has. Still has.
But Ginny is crying for Harry and he is not answering, and somehow that breaks into Lily, because Harry is so in love with that girl that of course he would answer her back. Lily thinks of how Harry’s eyes always shine when Ginny is around, how happy he seemed in those weeks they’ve been together, how worried he was for her while he was away (‘Promise me you will look after her, Mum ’, Harry had asked the day before vanishing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, ‘I can’t - if anything happens to her - please’ ).
And she knows her son and she knows that what Harry always saw with Ginny was the promise of a normal life - a life where he isn’t the Chosen One, but just a regular boy falling in love with a regular redhead, just as his father once did.
Except Hagrid is carrying him and Harry is limp and still and she thinks of holding that little baby in her arms for the first time, of how he was moving and crying but when he looked at her - with those bright green eyes that she had passed on to him - he seemed to calm.
He will awake, she thinks unreasonably, and she waits for him to jump and laugh, but Harry stays still in the one minute that takes for Voldemort to come closer, and that is the worst minute of her life.
Spells and curses are flying around them, but James and Lily don’t take their eyes off Voldemort’s red ones.
It feels a lot like a deja vu , because they had already been there, facing him, standing up for him. Four times. They survived four times and in the fourth one, they managed to protect their son.
Maybe it’s too late for Harry now, but they both know Harry would never want them to give up. And if all they can do is get this final piece of justice, they will.
From the corner of his eyes, James sees Bellatrix Lestrange falling - and that gives him a sinister pleasure -, but then Voldemort is blasting he and Lily of the way, turning his attention to Molly Weasley instead.
‘Protego’, someone yells, casting a shielding charm between Molly and Voldemort, and Lily’s heart beats faster even before her mind registers to whom that voice belongs.
And then Harry is pulling off his Invisibility Cloak and James remembers Harry’s amazement when he gave him the cloak for his eleventh birthday, promising solemnly he would take care of the family’s inheritance. Harry’s eyes had sparkled with all the possibilities; as much responsible his son was, there was a Marauder inside Harry too.
They are circling each other, Voldemort and Harry, and though Lily wants to rush to her son’s side, somehow she knows this is not the moment. For the first time, she truly accepts this is Harry’s fate, this is Harry’s moment. She and James made everything they could - they raised Harry and they loved him and they taught all the things that really matter. Their son is a survivor.
Harry is talking about love ( Snape, really? , James thinks) and wand lore and remorse and then Harry is casting the spell he likes most, the one that he defended when James told him he should be more aggressive (he just wants Harry to be safe, no matter what, but Harry refused to blast people out of the way). And then it’s over. Finally.
Dawn is breaking and somehow the first coherent thought in Lily’s mind is that her mother was right, a new day always brings new hope. Then she is screaming - or James is, she doesn’t know - and their arms are wrapping Harry, feeling his heart beating and he is alive. Their son is alive and all will be well. They stay in each other’s arms, the Potter family, for what seems forever - but it’s only a minute because Harry has other people to embrace and to celebrate and to love.
That minute begins a lifetime.