Work Text:
“Anything that can happen, will happen. If not in this reality, then in another.”
Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter, Stargate SG-1
“In dreams we enter a world entirely our own.”
Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
1.
The 31st of October 1981. It could have happened any number of ways. In the world we know, the man who had once been Tom Riddle cast a curse. It was a curse he had cast any number of times before.
He cast it in a house he had been led to by a small, cowardly man.
Inside he killed one unarmed father, and then the mother. He went to kill the son. And he vanished. At least, for a while.
This is not always how the 31st of October 1981 would go.
2.
Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom hadn’t long been of this world when a prophecy was issued. Their parents, rebels in a rapidly changing world order, had meant they were marked for death.
“No.” James Potter said, already half to his feet. He was young, and rash, and had skipped the last years of his youth to fight a war.
Next to him, Frank Longbottom was a little more circumspect. He glanced at his wife, who was looking between Albus Dumbledore, and her son. He didn’t have the blazing urge to be fighting. Then again, he was older than James and Lily. He’d lived a little more. It was usually his wife who was the mover and shaker. She loved being outside and in the thick of it, so much so he wondered sometimes why she hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor with him.
“This is absurd,” James blustered. “Surely the best thing would be to just kill the bastard instead of waiting for him to pick between Harry and Neville and hiding.”
Dumbledore, in his slow deliberate manner said, “it is the only way.” He was a hard man to argue with.
But Lily, who Frank had always thought was calm and measured and unlike her firebrand husband in every way said, “no it’s fucking not,” in a voice so low and deadly Frank had to supress a shiver.
Alice, who’d been quieter than usual, said, “I agree. What aren’t you telling us, Albus?” Someone seemed to have ironed out the smile creases at the corner of her eyes. Frank had never seen her so serious.
Albus told them, and James’ face went blank. “I received a note. A letter, from Regulus Black.”
Regulus was not well known to the Longbottoms. But James Potter had known him well. “What makes you think you can trust him? Anyway, he’s dead.” And Sirius hadn’t been the same since.
“He found one,” Dumbledore said. “It’s what killed him. So now you see this is the only option.”
Frank found, that as much as he respected the headmaster, “I’m not risking Neville’s life like that, sir.”
“By trusting Mr. Black? I assure you-”
“No,” Frank said, “I’m not risking him making more of these things. The boys will never be safe if he can’t be killed.”
Alice nodded, “as we see it, there’s only one option.”
3.
Harry Potter grew up in a large old house on Lake Windermere, where the grass grew up to your elbows in the summer and where you could hear the owls in the trees at night. There was no one around for miles, really. The muggles would never come into the cove that their house sat in on the lake, and the nearest township was miles away.
But Harry was a wizard, his name down for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since birth. No where was ever very far when magic was involved. And what seemed like a sleepy cottage in a far-away cove in a forest was actually very, very loud sometimes.
His parents had moved there, to the house with the ivy climbing up one wall and the three crooked chimneys, when he was just a baby. He didn’t remember much about then.
Perhaps that was for the better. He wouldn’t have to remember how his mother cried, and screamed when she learnt her best friend was dead. Wouldn’t have to remember the grim set of his father’s jaw when his Uncle Pads had arrived, white faced and shaking and pronounced they’d discovered the leak.
And perhaps it was better if he didn’t really remember the quiet years after the war he heard so little about was won, where it seemed everyone in the world was celebrating but the Order of Phoenix, who had lost so much to save what they had left.
4.
When Harry was two, a dinky little car made its way up the leafy lane through the forest and creaked to a stop in front of the Potter’s house. He was wary of strangers, and had his hands clasped around his mother’s neck as she held him.
Lily Potter stood on the front steps, waving as the Longbottom family tumbled out of the car. Frank, limping and going a bit grey at the temples already, smile lines creasing, holding little Neville’s hand and Alice, her face open and delighted, and…
Lily laughed, delighted, deposited her son, and ran down the steps to hug her friend, “you didn’t tell me!” Between the two women, as they hugged, was the proud, firm bump of Alice’s abdomen.
“Surprise!”
Neville, astute for a child so small, grinned up at Lily. “My mum’s going to have a baby.”
Harry, shyness forgotten now he felt left out, appeared suddenly. “I’m Harry.”
Frank, tall and stocky, even with the slight lean on his cane, winked. “We know.”
“I’m Neville,” said Neville.
And with that there was a general babble of laughter and talking as Lily ushered them all inside, assuring Frank that James was just out “for a run” and would be back as soon as he remembered.
“And where is Remus?” Frank asked as they walked through the door, “I was hoping he could talk me through an interesting find from Albania.” It was common knowledge that Remus Lupin, who Harry called Uncle Moo, was generally to be found at the Potters’.
All the Marauders had felt the end of the war hard. The betrayal of their fourth would cut them to the bone no matter reality. Remus found it easier to bear at the Grove. Around Harry most of all.
But it was Sirius, reckless, passionate Sirius Black who took the biggest hit. Perhaps it would have been different if they’d ever actually caught Peter. But they hadn’t. He was a fugitive. Sirius was angry and bitter, Remus was heartsick and lonely with Sirius gone, and James was trying to imagine his life with no more war to fight.
When they’d left school, so young and idealistic, there hadn’t been a lot of time to stop and think about careers. Alice and Frank had already been Aurors. Everyone had assumed James at least would follow in their footsteps.
But his big fight was over, and yet he couldn’t imagine having to do it again every day.
Alice was all that was left.
Later, with Harry and Neville asleep in Harry’s bed, Lily asked her how the hunt was coming.
Alice just shook her head. “No word on Peter. He’s in the wind.”
James, without looking at her, asked, “Sirius?”
Remus, who’d arrived late looking worn, but happy to see them all, carefully took a sip of butterbeer. Alice shook her head again, small and sad. “He pops up every so often. He’s not given up yet.”
James knew Remus missed Sirius. He did too. But he could understand why Sirius was doing what he did. Hell, sometimes James wished he was out there with his best friend. Hunting and fighting and feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins, anything to burn of the energy that fizzed and crackled underneath his skin. He had been fighting a war for so long, the healers told him, that it would take a while for him to learn what it was like to just live.
Harry helped. Harry was safe now. Harry and Neville both. And James got to be here to laugh as he took his first steps in the meadow grass. He got to teach his boy to fly, and to sing loud muggle rock songs when his mother was trying to concentrate on something. And most days that was all he wanted. It was like this dream that he’d only ever glimpsed in the corner of his eye. And other days it felt like someone else’s life.
Lily’s hand found his almost of its own accord, and James felt his shoulders ease a bit and his heart slow as his wife’s thumb moved across the back of his hand.
Frank, gentle and jolly, even with his chosen career as wasted as his leg, raised his glass of butterbeer.
“To old friends, reunited,” he said. “It’s no small thing.”
Remus’ voice was husky, James thought, when he said, “aye” and downed the rest of the glass.
5.
The Longbottoms became regular fixtures of their lives again after that visit. Three times a year like clockwork they would pile into their tiny (magically extended) Cooper, loading up kids and cauldrons and books, and end up spilling out into the wide-open spaces of the house the Potters’ friends and family simply called ‘The Grove.’
Easter, New Year’s and a joint birthday held in July. It was just after the July Harry and Neville had both turned five, when there was a sharp crack down the lane, and a figure in a long, patched cloak staggered up the country lane, and then the tree-lined drive.
It was a long, golden summer evening, and Harry hadn’t quite gone to sleep yet, but his eyelids felt heavy, and he felt his mother’s fingers brushing gently through his hair as she hummed.
Just as he tipped over the edge into sleep, there was a knocking, and he felt was the slight stutter of his mother’s fingers as she flinched. He heard his father downstairs exclaim, and laugh, “thank god, thank god, Sirius.”
When Harry woke up in the morning, his father was passed out on in the armchair in his room, footrest extended.
He was fairly used to this. His dad told him that sometimes he just liked to check on Harry sometimes, but he was so tired he would fall asleep. He wouldn’t guess until he was much older that James slept better there on the nights when the nightmares were almost unbearable.
Leaving his dad alone, he proceeded through the house. There was noise downstairs- his mum probably- and it was light outside. Safe enough to wake up without being told to go back to bed then.
His feet were cold on the big earthen tiles that lined the enormous kitchen-diner, and the sun was already filtering through the windows at the front of the house. Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the baggy old couch pushed under the window at the front of the room.
A man with shaggy black hair was asleep, mouth open slightly, one arm tossed across his face. Or, he had been asleep. Sirius Black had been on the hunt for years now. Wherever he laid his head down for the night hadn’t always been safe. Even with the gaze of a five-year-old on him, habits died hard.
For one split second of sleepy-headed confusion, he wondered how James had regressed in age so suddenly.
And then he remembered where he was. Where he was lying was soft and lumpy, not cold and hard. Someone had laid a blanket over him while he slept. And someone, somewhere close, was frying bacon.
“Hi,” said the miniature James. And Sirius almost couldn’t believe his eyes. “You look like my Uncle Paddy.”
Sirius had left pretty abruptly after the end of the War. One screaming fight with Remus, and a hollow deep in his gut and he was gone. He’d wandered around Europe for more than three years. Never staying still, always hunting the last thing wrong in his life. At least, the last thing he could fix.
And now he was home, and his godson, who hadn’t seen him since he’d had a memory, knew his face and his name.
Lily emerged from the kitchen, smiling, in that soft gentle way Sirius had first seen when James had taken a first year for a free flying lesson in sixth year.
“Mum,” said Harry, “Uncle Paddy’s on the couch.”
“I know. Is your father up?”
Harry shook his head. “He’s asleep in his chair.”
Lily wiped her hands on the tea-towel she was holding and tucked it into the back of her jeans. “He had a late night. Would you mind fetching the eggs for me sweetheart? Your boots are at the back door.”
Distracted by this new goal, Harry disappeared into the kitchen, and Sirius heard the creak of a back door opening.
“Good morning,” Lily said, smiling a little wider.
The three of them had a slow, leisurely breakfast while James slept in. After eggs and toast and bacon, Lily got the albums out while Sirius cleared the plates. Harry wandered off for play time.
They were all labelled, on the spine, with years Sirius had been away. Cool relief washed over him. He could see their school years, all neatly lined up at the bottom of the bookshelf in the corner. He didn’t think he could face that yet.
But he was happy to sit here next to Lily and flick through these. Photos upon photos of Harry, running, flying, toddling, crawling. The three of them standing outside the Grove’s front door, smiling. Lily, with her hands full of baby chicks, grinning and a photo of Harry laughing on the back of a placid stag. Lily had given it a moving caption in flashy green writing: piggy-back rides with Dad.
The more recent years saw more of their friends. Mary MacDonald and Lily spitting butterbeer mid-laugh, and Remus looking mussed and tired with a two-year-old Harry conked out over his shoulder. Sirius flipped quickly past that one.
There were more photos of Lily and James posing with babies that weren’t theirs.
“I’ve missed a lot,” Sirius said. “Is that a Weasley?”
They hadn’t been close, but they’d all been in the Order. And Sirius knew Arthur and Molly had a son Harry’s age. But really it was the baby’s shock of orange hair that gave it away.
“Yeah,” Lily said fondly, “their youngest, Ginny. James and I are godparents. They were running out by the time she was born.” She flipped the page, “and the Longbottom kids. This was, gosh, two days after Jenny was born? Alice worked basically up till she was giving birth.”
“Godparents again?”
Lily laughed. “Not this time around. Mary, actually, and Remus. They take her out once a year to Diagon Alley. Get ice cream from Alice’s dad and go to muggle playgrounds on the way home. James and I aren’t nearly so cool for their youngest.”
She flipped rapidly to the end of the 1983 album to the last photo, dated December 29th where there was a picture of James with a fat, roaring baby in his arms. Frank Longbottom, looking dazed and confused was holding another one. Lily smiled fondly. “That’s Algerius and Augustus,” and Sirius couldn’t help but snigger. “Family names,” Lily said, “they get called Algie and Gus.”
“Which twin did you two get?”
“Oh, neither, Dorcas and Emmeline got them both,” she said, reaching for this 1985- this year.
Harry was holding a baby with a truly hideous pink hat, with James and Lily either side of him. “That’s Nancy, our other goddaughter.”
Sirius said, “are they racing the Weasleys?”
“Nah,” said James’ sleepy voice from behind them. “Frank’s just a little forgetful on the potion side of things. And Alice is so busy she doesn’t notice either.”
“Frank had a vasectomy a month ago,” Lily said, slipping up from the table to kiss her husband’s cheek.
Sirius laughed. “You too James? No siblings for Harry?” He regretted it immediately, but James and Lily didn’t seem bothered.
“No,” Lily said, softly, “not yet.”
“I,” James declared, “have an excellent memory.”
And the three of them laughed. And for just a moment, Sirius felt sixteen again.
6.
Things got better. It was slow, and sometimes it was painful. But they did. Harry Potter grew up loved. He played BabyBrooms and Quicksticks Quidditch with Neville and some other kids down in Oxford every weekend where the Longbottoms lived. James coached and handed out high-fives and chocolate frogs every game. And then he kept coaching quidditch until he was organising BabyBrooms programs throughout the whole country.
They didn’t need the money. The Minister for Magic had declared them all veterans and paid them a pension every month. And James’ parents had left them money anyway. But it was a nice job, filled with two of James’ favourite things: kids and flying. He would bring Harry and his goddaughter along to work with him and let them fly and mess around as much as they liked. Ginny’s brothers wouldn’t let her play with them, but Lily had sat Harry down and told him if he ever stopped her from playing just because she was a girl he’d be cleaning the chicken coop out for the rest of his life.
Lily had never had a job, really. She’d been a student and then she’d been a soldier and then she’d been a mother. So she didn’t so much as go back to work, as invent a career for herself. She missed potions, and being busy, and Remus missed being employed.
So she hired him, and bought a storefront in Windermere township. Sirius and Remus spent most of summer of ’86 fixing up more than just the building.
Potter’s Essentials and Oddments opened in the Autumn. It was a one-stop shop for the West Country- in the front they sold books and robes, charms and over the counter potions. If a family didn’t want to make the trip to London for school supplies, Potter’s would take care of it.
Out the back was a different story. Lily set up her research there, and then had to have the building magically for a production line for specialist potions.
Harry would grow up knowing his parents were famous, but not just for being war heroes. Everyone knew the Potters. James- whose junior quidditch programs almost every child went to. And Lily Potter, the witch who kept inventing new potions to treat the most stubborn of magical maladies.
Sirius found himself much like James had been just after the war: aimless and a little shell-shocked. But Lily was always badgering him to go hunting for new and better potions ingredients, and his help was always welcome in Potter’s- stacking boxes or delivering orders.
Sometimes, he was called in to man the front desk. That was generally when Remus was busy upstairs- above Lily’s triple-warded labs- where he held defensive magic classes. He taught wizards and witches of all ages, not just how to duel, but what to do if someone like Voldemort ever appeared again. He taught hundreds of witches and wizards how to ward the houses of their muggle neighbours and refreshed whatever they’d learnt at school.
Every so often, someone would get upset if they found out what Remus was afflicted with. They might come into the store to threaten him, and be met by notorious bounty hunter Sirius Black. Or they might attempt to talk Lily into firing him.
Neither tactic was met with much success.
And life continued.
7.
In 1989, a rather enormous eagle owl flew through the open window of Potter’s at six o’clock.
Harry was sitting next to Remus at the front counter, reading while his uncle settled accounts. He didn’t often stick around the shop. There were so many things a nine-year-old boy could do with his time, after-all. Usually, he stayed home with his Dad whilst he wrote training plans and attendance lists and generally drowned in the paperwork of a national sports organisation. Sometimes Sirius would appear and take him somewhere for the day. But today he was at the shop with Remus, and Sirius’ niece Dora, who minded him when his parents went out.
“Must be a last minute order,” Remus said, thoughtfully, carefully setting his quill aside as the owl stretched out a delicate leg.
“I don’t think so,” Harry said, contemplating if Remus would notice if he stole a fizzing whizbee whilst he was distracted, “that’s the Longbottom’s owl.”
Frank and Alice had moved north to Hogsmeade a couple of years ago when Dumbledore had finally decided that a living History of Magic teacher might make learning a bit more bearable. Alice, who for most of their life post-war had been the career-girl said she was more than happy to take the back seat and head up the Auror field office in Hogsmeade.
Deciding the risk was worse than the reward, Harry left the sweets alone and asked, “what’s it say?”
His uncle sounded somewhat unsure when he said: “It’s from Frank. He’s offering me a job.
Remus had already read the short note twice over, and still couldn’t believe what it said. He’d always been quiet, and unassuming. What could he assume? Life didn’t tend to give werewolves a hell of a lot to work with. If anything, he was lucky. At least he still had friends. Many had much less.
“What job?” Said Lily, stepping elegantly through the door, shaking the sheen of spring rain from her hair.
Remus looked as stunned as he felt; a fish slapped on the dock. “A Professorship. Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
And any nerves he had vanished, because Lily was running, and hugging him, and Remus was hugging her back, and winking at Harry, who’d slipped a fizzing whizbee into the pocket of his sweatshirt.
“I declare a dinner in order,” Lily pronounced, in her odd way, and she sent Harry for her little brown owl from the little office behind the counter, and leant over to snatch the quill from Remus’ hands.
“You can have this back in just a minute, Moony, but only if you write to accept.”
“Oh yeah?”
Lily looked up at him. Those green eyes as kind and warm as ever, her free hand moving to cover his. “Yes, Remus. I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to it.”
Sometimes, it wasn’t a bad thing to revisit the past. Hogwarts was the first place Remus hadn’t been alone. He laughed, joyfully, suddenly. He was going home again, and the people who mattered to him were alive and okay.
Frank and Alice couldn’t come, and no one really liked to invite the Weasleys, because Molly brought all her kids everywhere. But no one minded because it was James and Sirius and Remus, together again. And Lily and Mary, though between them they laid out an extra glass for Marlene, where the Marauders refused to acknowledge their missing member.
And they laughed and told jokes at Moony’s expense and then decided to walk down to the pier on the lake and set off fireworks. Sirius and James took turns heaving Harry up onto their shoulders.
It was the happiest Remus thought maybe he’d ever felt. And that was comforting somehow. Just because the war had happened, and so many things were irrevocably broken, it didn’t mean everything just stopped. It didn’t mean their best days were behind them.
Eventually, Mary begged off. She was working as a legal specialist these days, auditing discriminatory legal policy. In a way, Remus supposed, she was the reason he could even hold the job at Hogwarts.
And then James and Lily, retiring. Harry’s head on James’ shoulder, fast asleep as they walked back over the fields home. And then it was just him and Sirius. Sirius, the one great question-mark in Remus’ life.
Remus had felt his gaze on the back of his neck all night. Searing and searching. Remus had never been afraid of who he was. Not in this way. But Sirius had never seemed quite sure, and Remus had never thought risking their friendship worth it. Clearly, neither had Sirius.
“So,” he said, “you’re leaving our little country life for the big show.”
Remus laughed a little. It was coming easier and easier. “I hardly thing the Scottish Highlands count as the big show.”
“You’ll come home every summer, right?”
Sirius wasn’t looking at him now, he was looking out over lake Windermere, but Remus thought he saw relief in the slight sag of Paddy’s shoulders when he said, “yes.”
So many years ago now, when the war had just ended, and Peter had escaped, Remus hadn’t wanted Sirius to go after him. Hadn’t wanted to imagine that death on Sirius’ conscience. They’d fought. It had been years for things to start to feel even remotely normal again. And now it felt like they were standing on the edge of another precipice.
Remus felt breathless. It was Sirius’ move.
“I guess I’ll catch you in the holidays,” he said, “but I warn you, I’ll need to take a break from looking after these idiots.”
The knot of anticipation loosened in Remus’ stomach as they eased back into familiar territory. He laughed easily, “sure thing. You might have to help me mark summer papers though.”
8.
On the first of September 1991, Lily Potter braced herself against the sink, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She took a deep breath and cast the charm again.
One last time, she told herself. Just to be sure.
The result was the same as all the other times before. She looked back into the mirror and tried to gauge what she was feeling. Was this the face of a woman who was happy? Sad? Scared out of her mind because the last time she’d done this she’d had to kill to keep it?
Lily held that thought for a moment, and like the scientist she was, examined it. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t scared. Not like the first time. She was… at peace? Excited, a little, and her chest felt bigger, like someone had just cast an undetectable extension charm on it.
The war had never felt so long ago.
Tucking her wand back into the waistband of her jeans, Lily went to get her son up and out of bed. It was an important day, after all.
Remus had headed back to Hogwarts a couple of days earlier, he said “to catch a grindylow,” as if it explained everything.
Sirius had been staying in London on business for the store, said he was meeting them at the station.
Everything was organised. Harry’s trunk was packed, his books and robes neatly stacked and folded, and an enormous snowy owl was roosting on the bedhead. From her vantage point, Lily could see the dark, messy tangle of her son’s hair against his pillow. Vaguely, she noticed her cheeks were wet.
“I know.”
James had come behind her, snaking his arms around her middle.
“I know, Lily.”
Her voice was surprisingly strong when she turned into his chest and looked up at him. “We were so close Jamie. So close to this never happening.”
Lily didn’t really like to think about the war. It had started off feeling like pouring acid on an open wound. Now it was more like poking a fresh bruise- nowhere near as painful, but still unnecessarily sore.
“But we didn’t, Lil. He’s safe.”
She shook her head, dabbing at the drying tracks of salt on her cheeks. “Yeah. But our baby’s leaving.”
James laughed, “to school, Lily. If that’s our biggest problem, I’d say everything worked out pretty well actually.” He stretched his arms out to examine her. “Are you sure you’re okay? I thought you were the pro-school parent in this situation.”
Lily swatted at him, and he let her go, laughing. She couldn’t help but smile, and feel her chest tighten again. This is what love looked like, she thought.
“You get him out of bed then. He’s such a bear this early in the morning.”
Her husband, grinning, said, “it’s like we’ve got a teenager a few years too early.”
“I wonder where he gets that from?”
There were big crowds at King’s Cross. Harry kept having to shake off his mum’s hand. She was being unusually clingy today. All he could see in front of him was the great adventure. Hogwarts was where his parents had met. Where they’d all started. Where he had become a possibility, if not a certainty.
Neville wouldn’t be on the train- Alice and Frank would just drop him at the Great Hall before the sorting. But Harry wouldn’t be alone. They weren’t even at the platform and already he could see the Weasleys, and the Prewetts, and the Bones cousins Bobby and Susan.
He watched them all disappear through the barrier ahead of them. Now, he took his mother’s hand back. “Mu-um, we’ll be late!”
“Nonsense,” Lily said, “we’ve got plenty of time. Oh look, there’s your Uncle.”
Sirius, hair recently tidied up (who knew how long that would last) clapped his hands together delightedly, and rubbed them. “I think you’ll come home for Christmas and be taller than your old man,” he told Harry, who put up with the ruffled hair tolerantly, his eyes still intent on the barrier.
Lily, however, had been distracted. A small, high voice was saying, “the professor said to walk through the barrier.”
“I don’t know, Hermione,” an adult was saying.
Another, female this time, agreed. “I’m still not sure there’s not just a gas leak in the house.”
She tapped James on the shoulder, distractedly, and turned towards the conversation. A small girl- Harry’s age- was dragging an enormous trunk behind her as two muggles who could only have been her parents trailed after her wearily.
“Honestly, Hermione, slow down,” her father said.
She made her way over to them, barely noticing the boys following along. “Sorry,” she said, approaching them, “but I couldn’t help overhearing.”
The muggles turned red, and she hurried to reassure them. It didn’t seem so long ago that her parents had been confusedly studying the instructions Minerva had left them. “No, sorry, I only mean I’d be happy to help.” She gestured to Harry, “it’s my son Harry’s first year at Hogwarts too.”
Hermione looked immensely satisfied. “Thank you,” she said sticking her hand out to Lily, ramrod straight. “I’m Hermione Granger.”
Lily took it. “Nice to meet you.”
“So you’re… a witch?” Mrs Granger asked.
Lily smiled and nodded, grabbing James’ hand, pulling him and Sirius into the conversation. “We can go first if you like, show you how to do it. Sirius can stay behind to make sure you get through okay.”
James squeezed her hand and she smiled up at him, feeling their feet move towards the barrier. They hadn’t done this, ever, as kids, going through the barrier together. For just a moment, on the other side, Lily looking up at him, she felt like a lovesick teenager. James’ eyes were shining.
“I know.”
But that was all they had time for. Harry and Hermione came rushing through. (“It’s better to take it at a run the first time,” Harry had told her, eyes glinting in a way that him look even more like his father.)
And then Sirius was escorting the Grangers through. Hermione’s eyes were huge, and she looked like she wanted to turn around and open her trunk to look for a book.
“What was that?” She asked, “some kind of displacement spell?”
Harry looked at her with renewed interest, “you know about displacement charms?”
(Harry had grown up secure enough in himself to have his father’s swagger. But his mother was Lily Evans. Harry would never have to discover his magical ability; he knew where he came from, and he wasn’t afraid to be smart or work hard.)
And then Lily was seeing Sirius’ gaze move, like gravity was pulling it, along the platform, where Remus was making his way towards them, raising one hand in salute.
“Moony!” Harry was crying, like he was a little kid again, Remus assuring everyone that he wouldn’t have missed this for the world.
And then there was that mad final rush, getting kids on the train, stowing trunks, and Harry wrapping his arms around his parents, “bye guys. I love you.” Lily was pressing kisses into his head, and handing him Hedwig’s cage.
“Make sure you write,” she said.
James rested one hand on his shoulder, “look out for that Hermione kid, yeah? Not everyone’s going to.”
Harry rolled his eyes like duh, Dad, and hurried to get on the train. Moony was holding a door for him.
And just like that, the train was moving on and on, and Lily was pressing her address into Helen Granger’s hand. “Ask me any questions you want. Do you have an owl?”
But she found herself standing on the platform long after the train had left. Sirius leaving them alone together- probably to moon after Moony- though Lily had sworn long ago she wouldn’t interfere.
James’ hand found her lower back. His lips ghosted the back of her neck. Involuntarily, she leaned back into him.
“Do you see over there,” she whispered, pointing to an innocuous bench.
He hummed in his chest, “yeah. Where you found out I was Head Boy.”
Lily laughed. “I was so mad. And then I was glad.”
James pointed now, over her shoulder. “See there?”
“Where?” She laughed.
“That patch of grease half-way up.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“I’m not!” He protested, “that’s where you were standing the moment I realised I liked you. Start of fifth year, you and Mary were helping Marlene with her trunk, and you were laughing and laughing, so hard I thought you might explode. I remember thinking: I hope that doesn’t happen before she goes out with me.”
“You did not!”
“I did too. It took me completely by surprise.”
She turned into him, arching an eyebrow. “Is that why you were a complete toerag all of fifth year? Your complex and surprising feelings for me?”
He sighed, ruefully. “I was an arrogant little shit, mostly just couldn’t believe you wouldn’t go for me.”
“You came right, Potter.”
“You think?”
And he looked so earnest, so hopeful and eager for her approval that she got up on her toes, leaning so close she felt his breath on her lips.
“I know. Smartest witch in the year, don’t you know.”
James, reassured, smirked, “why do you think I wanted you?” And then he kissed her, soundly, until they were breathless, and Lily was suddenly quite glad Harry was away at boarding school because James was apparating them home.
Sometime later, lying in the dappled sunlight coming through the window, Lily’s head still resting on James’ chest, she said, “I’m pregnant.”
James cracked an eye open lazily, smirking. “There’s some self-awareness, Lil, I’m still inside you.”
Lily laughed, and smacked him, and rolled her eyes all at once.
“Hey,” James said, softly, and the moment was serious again. He rolled them over, legs tangling in the blankets dragged off the bed. He propped himself up on one elbow. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”
Lily kissed him, slow and sweet, and remembered the last time she’d done this. There’d been a bit of dried blood behind her ear she’d missed showering after a battle, and her hands had been shaking so hard she could barely hold her wand to cast the spell to show James again.
“We’re happy then.”
And James was leaning his head against her shoulder, pressing small, soft kisses there, and saying: “Happy. You make me so happy, Lily.”
Oh, God, Lily loved him. She loved him so much more than till it hurt. She had loved this man until it healed.
9.
Harry loved Hogwarts. He loved spending the weekend trying to find Neville’s toad with Hermione and Ron. He loved bugging Hagrid for stories of his parents when they were at school. He loved the swell of pride when Ron stood up to Seamus and Dean for calling Hermione a swot, and how Hermione had just rolled her eyes and Ron was one of them.
Harry, Hermione and Ron. This universe as in every universe, though here it didn’t happen the same way.
On the train, the muggle-born girl wasn’t as sure of herself.
“Look,” she said, “can I sit with you? I don’t know anyone else. But if not, you know, I’ll understand. I know not everyone likes muggle-borns.”
Harry had his father’s confidence and his mother’s kindness. “Don’t be daft. My mum’s a muggle-born. She’s the best potioneer in the country.”
Hermione looked him over sharply and stuck out her hand. “Hermione Granger.”
Harry grinned. “Harry Potter.”
He didn’t have a scar. He wasn’t famous. But his mother was. Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Is your Mum Lily Potter?”
“Yeah.”
Hermione looked impressed.
“Come on,” said Harry. “Let’s find somewhere to sit. My friend Ron should be around her somewhere.”
Ron was a bit of a social butterfly to start with. It was easy. Like Harry, he had grown up with the children of other Order members, who’d banded together after the war. He also hung out a lot with loud-mouth Seamus, who unlike Hermione had nothing really to say. But he came around eventually, swapping chess lessons for help with his homework and yelling at and threatening anyone he saw who made Hermione cry.
Harry still made it onto the team as a first year, though his reputation as the best youth Quidditch player in a century preceded him.
“Honestly,” Hermione said to Professor McGonagall in his defence, “Draco should really have known better.”
Oliver Wood had been ecstatic when Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor, and had already been lobbying for weeks to have him on the team.
Harry’s parents came every game day, sitting with Sirius and Professor Lupin and listening to Ron’s loud play-by-play. After the game, James went and found his son.
“Here,” he said, tossing the snitch to Harry. He caught it easily, and James wondered how he’d never noticed he’d gotten that good. Harry grinned up at him. “Mine?” It was all he managed to say before James had engulfed him in a hug.
“We’re going for dinner at the Longbottom’s tonight. You can bring Ron and Hermione, if you like. Your mother and I have some exciting news.”
He told Harry outside Frank and Alice’s front door, holding hands with his wife, and watching his son’s face break into the biggest grin.
“Awesome,” Harry said, before turning to Lily, “you don’t look like you’re having a baby, Mum.”
“Come home at Christmas and I will,” she laughed.
Harry did go home for Christmas holidays, with strict instructions from Hermione to study. James found himself leaning against the doorway as the snow fell thick and fast outside. The fire was crackling in the grate, and his wife and son were bent over the old oak table studying.
The three of them stayed like that for a while. James just watching, feeling the swell of emotion and knowing it had been worth it.
Lily looked up at him and smiled.
“I know,” she said.
10.
This was, perhaps, the best Christmas Remus had ever had. Snow was falling heavily at the Grove. It was Christmas morning, early. He’d stayed at Hogwarts late, marking fifth-year essays, fallen asleep and apparated straight to Windermere.
Remus could hear nothing but the deafening silence of falling snow, and see nothing but the inviting glow of warm light and the faint curl of smoke out of the three crooked chimneys.
Here he was, home again. The door recognised him as he opened it and creaked invitingly. Not surprisingly, the one morning Harry was up early was Christmas day.
Remus was already half way to laughing when he said, “hey Harry.”
His eyes were bright and excited as he stood on the landing and declared “I’ve got presents.”
Despite the early morning quiet, Remus had to laugh. “Of course. Every year, Harry.”
Then he noticed Lily, already dressed for the day, stomach rounded noticeably now and Santa hat already prepared, laughing as Harry launched himself down the stairs to hug her, both of them sprawling across the couch.
“I love you so much, mister.”
“Me too, Mum.”
Quietly, Remus slipped off to the kitchen. Sirius was already there. Remus nearly bumped into him.
“Hi,” Sirius breathed, before clearing his voice. “Hi.”
Remus grinned at him; nerve endings electrified. “Good morning.”
And like it hadn’t taken him an age, he stepped into Sirius and let his mouth fall open. Sirius, who’d never been very good at impulse control, couldn’t let the opportunity pass. It was soft, slow and sweet.
“I’m going to need your help finding a boggart next term.” Remus told him, when they finally stepped apart.
Sirius sounded a little unsure, “oh yeah?”
Remus nodded seriously, “oh yes. Serious job, actually, imagine all the dark corners of the castle we’ll find ourselves in.”
Sirius smirked long and slow in that way that made Remus’ insides liquify. “You don’t have to ask me twice, Remus.”
And then James gave the invisibility cloak to Harry at presents, and he gasped with delight and said “my body’s gone!”
Remus was busy watching the faces of his two best friends, the mischief and humour, and letting himself feel sixteen again: hanging out with his best friends, getting up to mischief and feeling that belly-quivering mix of anticipation and nerves and lust Sirius had left him with since kissing him in sixth year just to shut Mulciber up.
(Later, much later, Remus and Sirius would discuss this, and Sirius would admit Mulciber had been a factor, but mostly he’d just wanted to kiss Remus that day outside transfiguration. In fact, he had wanted to kiss Remus mostly anytime he saw him.)
So yeah, it was the best Christmas Remus thought he’d ever had.
11.
Christmas was good for James Potter that year, too. But if he was honest it wasn’t the best day of the year.
That was probably about a month after Harry had gone back to school after the Easter holidays, when Lily heaved and rolled over in bed to tap him on the shoulder. He’d been having the best sleep of his life, but his wife was insistent.
“What?” He asked groggily, and about a nanosecond later he realised he didn’t need an answer. The 26th of May, 1992 was going to be his second child’s birthday.
“I’ll call Molly.”
Many people imagined that Molly Weasley was some unemployed housewife. Those people had either never had children, or hadn’t had the privilege of Molly’s midwifery skills.
She’d delivered four of the Longbottom children, and all of Edgar Bones’ children too. She would have delivered Harry too, if Ron hadn’t been such a colicky baby.
She did her job well, Arthur working from home that day to take care of Ginny, whilst his wife delivered Rosemary Marlene Potter.
“Hi there,” Lily breathed clutching her daughter’s tiny body to her breast. “Oh sweetheart, oh…”
Alice Longbottom dropped Harry home for an impromptu holiday to meet his baby sister.
James let tears drip down his face unashamedly as his daughter grasped at her mother’s hair.
“I love you so much.”
12.
Harry’s time at Hogwarts passed like a summer day, slowly and then all at once. It was so different to the break-neck, breathless pace at which another version of Harry’s schooling would go.
That wasn’t to say there weren’t hiccups.
In first year, Hagrid bought a dragon egg, and a very heavily pregnant Lily Potter caught the train all the way to Hogsmeade to brunch with Alice Longbottom and inform her of a dragon relocation that would have to occur pretty soon, and her due date. This was after they’d overheard Harry and his friends just before school went back after new-year’s talking about Ron’s positive identification of a Norwegian Ridgeback in Hagrid's cabin.
And then there was Harry’s ongoing conflict with Draco Malfoy. Lily made James promise not to get involved. It was a sore point.
Harry hexed Malfoy for calling Hermione ‘mudblood,’ Hermione set Draco’s robes on fire for trying to knock Harry off his broom one quidditch match.
(“I know a spell when I see one,” she insisted to Professor Lupin, who merely looked amused. “How good,” he said, “I can tell you’ll excel in DADA this term Hermione.” “Exactly,” Harry had said, firmly. And that had been that- no detention for the pyromania that day.)
Malfoy responded by sending his house elf to repeatedly to the Grove to irritate Harry, and Harry and his gang of friends hatched a revenge plot.
It was perhaps where he would fall in love with Ginny Weasley.
Lily and James were at home all summer, but not everyone was. The Grangers, for example, were dentists at peak cavity time.
“Honestly,” Helen said over coffee with Lily at a sweet little muggle café, “these parents let their kids eat candy all year around and then complain when we take so long to fix a year’s worth of damage! I’ve got so many patients to see, but I can’t just let Hermione stay at home alone!”
Lily arranged Rosie so she was feeding more comfortably and said, “we’ll have her, Helen. It’d be my pleasure. Molly and Arthur are dropping their youngest two off as well whenever Molly has a birth she’s got to go to.”
So Harry spent most of that summer hanging out on the lake with Hermione, Ron and Ginny trying to catch trout with their bare hands and build forts in the woods.
“We need to do something about Malfoy,” Ron said one sunny afternoon. The four of them were hanging out on the pier in Potter’s Cove. Ron had just soundly beaten Harry at wizard’s chess, Ginny was skipping rocks and Hermione was deep into Professor Slughorn’s recommended reading for potions next year.
Harry agreed with Ron. “Even Moony won’t do anything about it.”
He’d been visiting last night when Harry had been minding his own business, only for Malfoy’s demented looking house-elf to appear with a crack, and start beating Harry with his own lamp.
Moony had said, “holy shit” and immediately hung up the phone, but he hadn’t done much else after the elf had disappeared.
“Let’s just give the elf a good kicking,” Ginny said, absently, “like a garden gnome.”
Hermione, only half paying attention, said, “I doubt the elf actually wants to do whatever Malfoy’s telling it to do.”
Harry grinned, “you’ve given me an idea.”
And so the great freedom plot was hatched, involving Ginny Weasley’s impeccable pick-pocketing skills, one of Harry’s old socks. He didn’t think it would work the first time they tried, but Ginny was a really good actress.
“Sorry, sir,” Ginny said, running after Lucius Malfoy. “I think you dropped this book.”
She appeared to have done her best to look as filthy and poor as possible that day, as Harry, Ron and Hermione watched from inside Florian Fortescue’s.
Lucius sneered, and said “Draco, take the book.”
Draco protested, “Father, it’s filthy now.”
Ginny flushed, as if she were embarrassed. But Harry could see the glint in her eye. Lucius sighed and snatched the book off of her, holding it out by two finger-tips. On examining it, Lucius seemed suddenly quite eager to be rid of it.
“Dobby!” He snapped, and the elf appeared. He threw the book at him. “Take this back to the manor.”
But Dobby didn’t move. Delightedly, he opened the book as Ginny scampered away, and retrieved Harry’s oldest, dirtiest sock.
Time and time again after that, Ginny would prove just about the only person to keep up with Harry. She was onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team as soon as a spot opened- she’d been at just as many of James’ practices as Harry had, especially because her brothers had never let her play with them. She could duel almost as well as him, and swear far better, and together they escalated the prank war with the Slytherins when Astoria Greengrass started calling her friend Luna ‘loony,’ about the same time Draco started calling Hermione ‘mudblood.’
“A Potter and a fiery redhead,” Remus said to Sirius, one morning after a night of ‘boggart hunting.’ “And they’re always in trouble. It’s all so familiar.”
“Hmm,” Sirius hummed, “feeling nostalgic?” He was dressed already- to meet James and Lily for the quidditch later this afternoon, but Remus had been taking his own sweet time. Sirius took a seat at the edge of the bed, enjoying the twist of muscles under Remus’ skin as he turned to look at him, leaning up with lips parted.
And then there was a shocked huff of laugher, and a groan, and Remus’ eyes were getting big and surprised and Sirius just knew that his friend and godson were standing in the doorway, watching him in the midst of morning-after.
He smirked and straightened up.
“Lily and Alice are waiting,” James said, amused. “We’re all having lunch before the game.”
“Of course,” Sirius said, walking past the Potters. He clapped Harry on the back, “just wait till we’re walking in on you, mister.”
(Which, for the record, would happen. Sirius, James and Rosie, home from a walk one summer, would find Harry attached like a limpet to Ginny just before her brother’s wedding. Sirius would assure Harry, as James clamped a hand over Rosie’s mouth, that it was indeed very funny.)
“You’re a model godfather,” James said on the walk down to Hogsmeade.
“Of course,” Sirius said, in a remarkable impression of a man who’d never dream of letting a couple of twelve year-olds take an illegally modified flying car on a joyride last summer.
James rolled his eyes.
At the end of that day, Harry was in the hospital wing and Sirius was back in Remus’ bed, and despite the hiccups, everyone was where they were meant to be.
13.
Life was good.
Harry Potter grew up with a baby sister who adored him almost as much as she enjoyed birds. Remus would spend the holidays with them when Lily went back to work, letting Harry fly Buckbeak and Rosie play with the friendlier beasts. He loved the long walks and the joy on the kids' faces.
Lily’s achievements with medical grade potions won her a second Order of Merlin, and every night she came home to James making funny faces with Rosie, or baking, or playing music her obnoxious sister would have considered awful. And on the weekend she could enjoy the peace and her family. They went walking, or swimming in the freezing lake and Sirius would say “honestly, I’m sure Hagrid knows a giant squid breeder, let me ask him.”
And James would carry on and go along with it until Harry was rolling his eyes (because- god be good- he was a teenager now) and Rosie was shrieking with laughter.
“You’re a good dad,” she told him, because she could, and because he was. They could tuck Rosie into bed, and go watch Harry play quidditch and feel safe even when their son wasn’t home with them because Remus (and Sirius too, most of the time) were watching over him, and it was because of James. James who fought even Dumbledore for this golden, bright thing they had.
Then one evening they were child free, and Sirius and Remus and Mary were all over for dinner. James pulled out a bottle of firewhisky, declaring “this is the good stuff,” and they sat around the table for hours, talking.
First about the old times, when Lily and Mary brought the albums out, the albums Sirius couldn’t look at ten years ago.
“Look,” said Mary, pointing at a photo of Marlene, hair loose and laughing in the fields around Hogsmeade. “She looked so happy, then.”
She had been. Happy and witty and forceful, with a wicked sense of humour, and no time for idiots. Sirius felt Remus’ hand tighten on his, and he understood. Marlene had been Sirius’ first everything: crush, love, sex, loss.
But he didn’t feel guilty anymore, not for loving or losing her. Marlene had been a renegade even amongst her friends; a free spirit. Sirius couldn’t have stopped her from doing anything. He certainly couldn’t have stopped her from fighting the battle that killed her. He couldn’t have stopped her when she wanted him, and she couldn’t have made her start. He certainly hadn’t been able to stop her from breaking his heart.
Though, he thought, as he looked down at Marlene laughing, hair whipping about her face in the picture from so many years ago, maybe that had happened as it was meant too. He thought, no matter what had happened in the past, this was where he was meant to be.
He squeezed Remus’ hand back.
“Ah, life is good.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said James.
“Marlene certainly would have,” Mary said, and they all raised their glasses.
“Life is good!”
There were other photos that night. Some were bright, happy memories. Some were bittersweet. Others hurt and were painful. But Sirius got through it.
14.
“God,” said Harry as the fourth years trudged into the great hall, “I caught my parents making out the other day.”
Ron laughed, “mine usually stop when I walk in on them.”
“Harry would have been wearing the cloak, sneaking around, weren’t you Harry?”
He narrowed his eyes at Hermione. “Sometimes I wonder why we keep you around.”
She smiled at them both, and Harry pretended not to notice the cartoon hearts in Ron’s eyes. “Because I’m smarter than you both.”
“There you go, good for something,” said Ron, as they sat down.
“Hey,” Harry protested. “So am I! I was using the cloak to steal butterbeers and firewhisky!”
And then Dumbledore made a rare appearance from his office to talk about something called the Triwizard tournament, and the Goblet of Fire and fourth year went spectacularly to hell.
“Honestly, Harry, this is stranger than that time Neville got attacked by that random swarm of Cornish pixies,” Ron said, later, after his name had come out of the goblet.
“Not relevant, Ronald!” Hermione said sharply, “we need to find out who put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire!”
Darkly, Ginny said, “I reckon I’ve got an idea.”
Exasperated, Hermione said “we can’t prove Malfoy did it, Ginny.”
“I didn’t say it was him, Hermione!” And she turned her glare on Harry and Ron.
Harry glanced away quickly, and Hermione caught on. “Honestly you two!” Ron’s ears turned red, and Ginny stormed off.
“Really Harry,” Hermione said, “that’s not the way to get her to go out with you.”
Ron pretended to be deaf. He also pretended to be deaf when Lily used the floo to show Harry her copy of the Daily Prophet with his face and the Goblet of Fire. “What I’d like,” his mother said, icy calm, “is to know what you’ve been doing the past two days.”
Lily had come downstairs to read the paper, the night after a full moon, to see James in his quidditch coaching gear sporting two black eyes.
“Big night?”
Quite often Remus and Sirius handled the monthlies alone, but James liked to floo to Frank and Alice’s every so often and join in the fun.
James yawned in his chair, “yeah. Can’t believe I’ve got the Liverpool Under Nines for an all day camp today of all days.”
Lily laughed and opened the paper out, and just as James was standing up to go and get Rosie out of bed she gasped and looked up at him.
“Look at this!” She shoved the front page at her husband, who looked askance and groaned.
“Oh my god he’s turned into me.”
Lily raised her eyebrows, “you think? Why didn’t Remus tell you?”
“Last night was the full moon!” James said, helpless. “None of us knew!”
An owl came screaming through the kitchen window. James pointed to it, “see; that’s him now.”
Barty Crouch Junior was not there to help Harry through the tasks, but he wasn’t alone. Sirius and Remus were there, and Hagrid and Neville. Instead of a broom, Harry rode a hippogriff to fight the dragon. He found himself rescuing Ginny instead of Ron, and was very confused when Viktor Krum emerged with Hermione.
“I know you,” Krum told him. “They say you will play quidditch for England, no?”
Harry’s chest puffed out a little. “They do say that.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ginny said, “not if I beat him to it,” with her eyes blazing and Harry stopped wondering why she’d been chosen as his person when his gut gave a funny little lurch.
Internally, he sighed. Hermione was usually right about these things, after all. Still, he couldn’t very well date his best friend’s sister- and his godsister if you were being technical about it- so he took Pavarti Patil to the Yule Ball, and Ginny and Neville went together amicably.
The only slight hitch were the dancing lessons, but Alice Longbottom took care of that the next Hogsmeade weekend. Wearing an old green dress, she beckoned to her eldest son, “come dance with your mother,” and taught them all an extremely elegant waltz. Jenny Longbottom sat in the corner and laughed when Ginny stomped all over her brother’s toes.
“Why didn’t he take Ginny?” Lily asked, wonderingly, as she watched her son dancing across the floor with Pavarti Patil.
James looked like he was trying not to laugh. So did Sirius. “He’s just in denial. Coming up with a thousand reasons it shouldn’t happen. It’s a Potter thing.” And he looked down at Lily with such affection it was all she could do not to drag him onto the dance floor and disrupt Harry’s big moment.
15.
Sirius noticed a bunch of girls started to follow Harry around in sixth year. Sirius noticed a lot going on in Hogwarts, seeing as he pretty much lived there fulltime now. Boggart hunting every weekend, as it were.
His reason, when asked, was that he was keeping an eye on Harry. Lily and James didn’t believe it, because Harry was in trouble so much it was like he was trying to beat James’ record.
“How come,” Minerva scolded them, “whenever something happens it is always you three?”
Sirius found it fascinating from the other side of the scolding, he couldn’t help sniggering in the corner with Remus. What had they done this time? Set a corridor on fire with Weasley Fireworks ™ trying to escape a pack of Harry’s admirers. It’d gotten out of control after the news had broken that year that Harry had been invited to trial for the England team when he graduated, and that he was already practicing with the Falmouth Falcons.
Later, he’d sit with Remus in front of the fire, smoking one of those new cigarettes that wasn’t meant to kill him like the muggle ones did, and say “just like old times.”
And Remus would laugh and look at him and say “yeah, I know,” and Sirius would have to readjust himself in his chair.
For a long time Sirius had not understood wanting Remus. It was just something he’d grown to live with. Something that had always been there, and that he had very rarely acted on.
It was just that eventually, he figured there was no point doing nothing about the fact that he’d been in love with Remus before, during and after the war and Marlene and everything and by now he was out of excuses. Which was a little scary, when he stopped to try and understand it, so eventually he just stopped trying to understand it. He accepted it, he let it happen.
But now?
Sirius loved James and Lily’s kids. He loved them like they were his. And sometimes he wondered if he wanted his own. He didn’t know the answer to that yet, but he knew if he did, he wanted it with Remus.
If he wanted anything in life, he wanted it with Remus. Patient, kind, funny, smart Moony. Moony who’d waited for him, and forgiven him after Snape and after Peter and who he so did not deserve. Sirius wanted to be tied to him, and he was past whatever anyone else might think of that.
So he tested the waters; fired a warning shot.
“I think I want to get married.”
Less of a warning shot then, and more like a shot right between the eyes. But it did the trick.
Remus’ eyes went big and wide, and his face was breaking open with delight.
“I guess that’s a yes?”
So, they had a wedding, and Sirius found himself sitting and watching two rings in the palm of their hand like they might explode. He was still like that when James found him.
“It’s nearly time,” his best friend said.
“I know.” Sirius said, and took a deep breath.
“You alright, mate?”
Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Just making sure I was ready.”
Because he wasn’t sure he’d ever make it here. It felt like a pipedream- impermanent and too-good-to-be-true. He wasn’t sure he deserved this, but he wanted it, and Remus deserved more than the guy with one foot out the door because he was scared.
And in the end it didn’t matter anyway, because he married Remus and it knocked the breath out of his lungs in the best way possible, and he pressed his head into Remus’ and promised him that no matter how much time he’d wasted, Remus could have whatever was left.
And Harry watched them dance, and saw Ginny watching them too, from across the room. She was incandescent. And he was an idiot.
A lot of girls had been vying to go with him to this, and he’d entertained them all.
“Why?” Hermione had asked them as he followed her around shelving books bigger than his head.
“I can’t ask Ginny,” said Harry, “she’s already going.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “No, I mean why are they all suddenly so into you?”
He smirked, “because I’m the chosen one; quidditch prodigy, seeker-”
She smacked him over the head with a rolled-up bit of parchment. “Didn’t you learn from fourth year? If you can’t take the girl you like, don’t take anyone.” She sniffed, “Ginny will just think you’re a bigger twat than she already thinks you are.”
“Come on, she loves me. She worshipped me when we were kids.”
Hermione hit him again.
“And now you worship her, supposedly, and she quite rightly thinks you’re a toerag.”
She hit him a third time.
“Tell those girls to back off.”
“Okay. Sorry!”
Harry had to thank Hermione now. Ginny wasn’t rolling her eyes at him now, she was laughing and smiling.
Oh god was she beautiful. And oh god was he screwed.
Later that year, Gryffindor would play in the Hogwarts final, and England scouts would be watching.
And Harry Potter, who played that game in this universe, won the game with Ginny Weasley, setting the highest total score in Hogwarts history in a record-breaking amount of time.
Both James’ Potter’s quidditch prodigies were selected into the England Under 21’s team on the spot.
When Harry walked into the common room that night, with festivities in full swing, Ginny would have that blazing look in her eyes that Harry knew so well, and every moment they’d had together would flash before his eyes and they’d collide in the middle of the common room floor.
The common room erupted into fresh cheers.
16.
Harry Potter grew up with a mother who expected him to get good grades, and Neville desperately wanted to impress his crochety old grandmother, so they banded together and made a study group.
And then it became so much more. It became where they went if they were in trouble, or needed a friend. If they were struggling with something in class, or just wanted a chat.
Harry and Ron and Hermione. Ginny, Neville, Luna, Jen Longbottom. Bobby and Susan Bones. Even Seamus and Dean.
They got discovered one day, by Malfoy, who reported them as some kind of militant militia. It was mildly hectic. Parents were called, a board meeting was held. Expulsions were threatened, until Harry stood up and said, “we were just helping each other out, what’s so wrong with that? We were just learning together. I thought that was the point of this place?” And then he turned around and said, “show them Neville.”
And Neville Longbottom stood up and produced a fully corporeal patronus, and Lucius Malfoy’s mouth fell open.
“Malfoy,” Sirius said at the back of the room, “you’re a great twat and I’ve always hated you. Can we go now, or do you want there to actually be a militia?”
Frank, James, Lily and Alice seemed too busy to be beaming with pride to do anything other than cheer.
(“A sun bear,” Luna said, dreamily, her own silvery hare dancing over their heads.)
Lily found Harry with Rosie in the prefects common room, looking up at a portrait that had been painted years ago. It was her and James, head boy and girl. Gosh, she thought, they looked so young.
“Hi Mummy,” Rosie said.
“Hey Mum.”
“I love you,” Lily said, the feeling the words exploding in her chest even as she said them.
Rosie skipped over. “I’ll miss you, Harry,” she said.
“You too, Ro.”
Lily smiled at him. “Sweetheart, we’re so proud of you.”
Harry grinned, but shuffled awkwardly. “You’re my mother.”
Lily considered that for a minute. “Well your mother would like you to write more often. Maybe stop these miscommunications from happening again.”
“Stay safe, Harry.”
“I love you, Mum.”
17.
So what was the difference? Between this universe and the one we all know so well? Was it that Albus Dumbledore not only knew of the prophecy, but also of Regulus’ plan? Was it that somehow Sirius found a leak in the Order of the Phoenix before it doomed his best friends?
We may never know.
But we know the final result. In some universe, somewhere, Harry Potter grew up loved.
Where in one universe he was sent to slaughter, in another he was sitting down to breakfast. The muggle radio was on, playing softly in the background. Remus and Lily were passing a word puzzle of some kind back and forth, and his little sister was impatiently telling him that it was such a pain to be told she looked so much like her mother, but had her father’s hazel eyes. And their father was proclaiming something noble and full of friendship in the corner and laughing with Sirius.
Harry Potter was so loved, and he loved his family. And that was nothing to take for granted.
End.