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Chapter Text

James woke up with a groan, his body protesting after what felt like an eternity of sleep. Blinking a few times, he ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness.

Harry. Lily.

His heart lurched as he shot to his feet, searching frantically for his wife and baby—only to find himself standing in the middle of a cemetery.

His breath caught in his throat, eyes widening as they landed on the gravestones before him.

James Potter.

He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply when a familiar groan sounded beside him.

"Lily," he breathed, rushing over to where his wife lay.

"Love, are you alright? Where's Harry?" he asked, helping her sit up as she rubbed at her forehead, dazed.

"James… Harry… He—Voldemort. Where is he?" she asked, panic flickering across her face as she caught sight of her own gravestone.

"I… did we die?" she whispered, staring at the engraved names in disbelief. "Did Harry…?"

James gulped, scanning the area for another headstone with their baby's name on it. Relief flooded him when he didn’t find one. He helped Lily to her feet, reaching into his pocket for his wand. Finding it tucked away, he gestured for Lily to check for hers.

He led her out of the cemetery, but before they got far, Lily broke down, clinging to him as sobs wracked her body. The only thing James could make out from her cries was their son's name.

"Alright, love. We need to find him. Dumbledore. We'll go to Dumbledore," James muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before stepping back.

She nodded, wiping away her tears before gripping his arm, steeling herself for Apparition. The familiar sensation of being pulled through made her exhale sharply, and when she heard James snort beside her, she rolled her eyes, reaching over to pinch his forearm.

"Do not move."

The firm command made them freeze. Turning, they found themselves staring at the headmaster, his wand aimed directly at them, his sharp blue eyes scanning them with disbelief.

"Albus, we have no bloody idea what's happening. Where the fuck is our son?" James demanded, his jaw clenched as he glared at the wand pointed at them.

"Lily and James Potter have been dead for a decade now. And I will not be deceived by Death Eaters disguising themselves in their likeness."

Lily’s breath hitched.

A decade.

Ten years.

They had been gone for ten years.

Her baby. Where was her baby?

"Albus. It's us, Professor. We woke up in the cemetery and came straight here. We need your help. Where is Harry?" she pleaded, voice trembling.

"I will not be fooled. Prove it. Tell me something only James and Lily Potter would know," Dumbledore ordered, his expression hard as he scrutinized them.

"My Animagus form is a stag. Moony is a werewolf, and Pads is a dog. Peter, the bastard, is a rat—and he was our Secret-Keeper," James spat, his voice dripping with venom at the last part, fury igniting in his chest at the memory of their betrayal.

"Secret-Keeper?" Dumbledore repeated, his wand lowering slightly at the revelation. "Wasn't Sirius Black your Secret-Keeper?"

"What? No! He said that would be too obvious, too easy for them to track us down. Sirius insisted we make Peter the Secret-Keeper instead—he was the last person anyone would suspect," Lily explained quickly, her stomach twisting when she saw Dumbledore’s hands clench.

"Sirius Black has been imprisoned in Azkaban for ten years," Dumbledore said gravely. "For the murder of twelve Muggles—and for betraying the two of you."

James went still.

His breathing grew ragged as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, slipping his glasses off and rubbing his face as though trying to process the words.

Lily gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, instinctively reaching out to rub James’ back when she felt his body tense.

"Pads... in Azkaban?" James whispered, his voice barely audible.

"If he's innocent, I will begin arranging a trial immediately," Dumbledore assured them, opening the gate to let them inside. "For now, come. It's late, and most of the students should be in their dormitories."

"Albus, where is Harry?" Lily asked again, her anxiety rising.

"Your son is currently asleep in the Gryffindor dormitory. I will send one of the house-elves to fetch him. For now, wait in my office while I retrieve a vial of Veritaserum."

Dumbledore led them inside, guiding them to his office, where he pulled out a small vial of the truth potion.

Neither of them hesitated, downing the liquid without protest. They answered every question without a moment's pause.

"It really is you," the headmaster murmured, almost in awe, as he sent a small note to the house-elves.

"Harry will be here shortly. I will also send word to Mr. Lupin."

At the mention of their old friend, a small smile flickered across James and Lily’s faces as their hands instinctively found each other.

"Master Potter is outside, Headmaster," a house-elf announced, appearing and disappearing in an instant.

"Come in, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore called.

Lily and James shot to their feet as the door opened.

"Professor Dumbledore! Am I in trouble?"

A small voice filled the room, and James felt his chest tighten at the sight of the boy in the doorway.

Harry stood there, dressed in red, fluffy pajamas, shifting awkwardly as he fidgeted with his hands. He hadn’t even noticed them yet.

"Mr. Potter, you are not in trouble, my boy," Dumbledore reassured him gently. "There is simply someone you need to meet."

"Who—"

Harry stopped mid-sentence as his wide green eyes finally landed on them.

Recognition. Shock. Disbelief.

He knew them. He had seen them in the mirror. But that was impossible.

They were dead.

"My love," Lily whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she took a hesitant step forward.

Harry's breath quickened as she crouched before him, her emerald eyes shining with unshed tears.

He hadn't known many women in his life, but she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

His gaze flickered to the man beside her.

Harry’s jaw dropped. He looked just like him. Exactly like him—except for the eyes. His dad.

He looked so… cool.

"Sweetheart," James murmured, his voice cracking as he reached out, large hands cupping Harry’s face, his thumb tracing over the lightning-shaped scar.

"Hi, baby," Lily whispered, bringing his tiny hands to her lips, pressing soft kisses to his palms.

James chuckled when he saw Harry’s face flush red, then crouched down and pulled him into his chest.

Harry let out a small yelp of surprise as his father hugged him tightly.

"Look at you," James murmured, rocking him slightly. "All grown up, my little Prongslet."

Lily pressed gentle kisses to his forehead as James held him close, his grip firm, like he never wanted to let go.

"We have you now, baby," she soothed, resting her head on James' shoulder as Harry buried his face in his father's neck, his small frame trembling with quiet sobs.

He already loved them.

Chapter Text

Harry was confused.

For ten years, he had been nothing but an orphan, a fact his dear aunt loved to remind him of at every opportunity. In the Dursley household, he was nothing more than a servant, someone to be ignored or scolded.

Until Hogwarts, that is. Even though his relatives still treated him cruelly (his uncle had at least toned down the smacks and kicks), Hogwarts had become his sanctuary, his safe space.

Now, though, he was utterly shocked.

His parents—his parents—who had been dead for a decade, were now very much alive, sitting on the couch with him. Harry sat on his father’s lap as they spoke with Dumbledore, his mind struggling to process everything.

Every so often, his mother would rub slow, comforting circles on his back, pressing soft kisses to his forehead whenever he shifted. It was... nice.

He had never known what it felt like to be kissed goodnight, to be tucked in, to hear a bedtime story. He had seen Aunt Petunia do those things for Dudley and had always wondered why no one had ever done them for him.

Harry nuzzled into his father’s warmth, his small hands clutching at the fabric of James’s shirt as he sighed into the man’s neck.

“You tired, baby?” James asked softly, looking down at him with fond eyes. “We’ll go home in a second, sweetheart.”

The boy nodded, his eyelids growing heavy as his mother hummed quietly. James bid the old professor goodbye, promising to return in the morning. There was still so much to do—free Sirius, find Remus, track down Peter—but for now, the couple wanted to focus on their son.

“Okay, darling. We’re going to apparate now,” Lily murmured gently. “It’ll feel a bit strange, but I want you to hold on to Daddy, alright?”

Harry nodded and tightened his grip around James’s neck.

The sensation was awful—like being sucked through a narrow tube. Not a pleasant experience. 0/10, would not recommend.

James chuckled at the pout on his face, setting him down beside Lily and straightening his pajama collar.

“This is the Potter Manor, love. It’s our home,” Lily explained as James opened the grand iron gates, gesturing for them to enter.

Harry clung to his mother’s hand as she led him inside, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight of the grand mansion. It was breathtaking. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors across the hallways, elegant chandeliers cast warm light against the walls, and stunning paintings moved within their frames. It was nothing like the Dursleys’ house.

“Dotty!” James called out.

With a soft pop, a small house-elf appeared, wearing a neatly pressed purple apron. Her large eyes widened before immediately welling with tears.

“Master James! Miss Lily! Baby Master Harry!” Dotty cried, sobbing as she looked at them.

“Dotty knew Masters weren’t dead! Dotty kept Potter Manor clean!” she said proudly, smiling through her tears.

“Thank you, Dotty,” Lily said warmly. “Would you be able to prepare our bedroom and bring us some spare pajamas?”

“Of course, Miss Lily!” Dotty sniffled before disappearing with another soft pop.

Lily turned to her son, crouching down so she was eye-level with him. “We’re going to get some sleep, baby. Would you like to stay with us tonight?” she asked, brushing a few strands of messy black hair from his forehead.

Harry blinked up at her in awe, his eyes lighting up. He had never shared a bed with anyone before. At the Dursleys’, he had been alone in his cupboard—just him and the spiders.

He nodded quickly, turning to James, who only smiled and ruffled his hair.

His parents led him upstairs to a massive bedroom, where an equally massive bed awaited. The second he was placed on it, he sank into the soft mattress, feeling like he was floating.

“We’ll just change and be right back, alright, honey?” Lily promised, kissing his forehead before disappearing into the joint bathroom with James.

Harry barely registered them leaving. His eyelids felt heavier by the second, and he was already halfway to sleep by the time his parents returned. James chuckled at the sight, climbing into bed and scooping him up.

“C’mere, darling,” James murmured, pulling the little boy to his chest, his large hand patting Harry’s bum in slow, soothing motions.

“That always did help him sleep,” Lily said, smirking when her son let out a sleepy giggle as she gently poked his neck.

James smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to the messy brown curls on his son’s head. “Mummy and Daddy love you so much, kiddo,” he whispered.

Harry, half-asleep, snuggled deeper into his father’s warmth, his small fingers curled into the fabric of James’s shirt. His parents were real. They were here.

And for the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt safe.

“We have you now, baby,” Lily murmured, resting her head on James’s shoulder as she brushed a gentle hand through Harry’s hair. “We have you.”

James sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms securely around both of them. “And we’re never letting go.”

Chapter Text

Harry woke up feeling warm. That was new.

For as long as he could remember, he'd always woken up cold, whether it was in the cupboard under the stairs or the drafty dorms of Hogwarts. But now, wrapped in the softest blankets he'd ever felt, with warmth pressed against both his sides, he didn't want to move.

He blinked his sleepy eyes open, his face still tucked into his father’s chest. James was still asleep, one arm slung protectively over Harry's small frame, his steady breathing ruffling Harry's messy hair. On his other side, his mother stirred, letting out a quiet sigh as she shifted closer, wrapping an arm around both of them.

This was real. They were real.

The weight of it crashed down on him like a wave, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his breath hitched. He had parents. He had a family. He wasn’t alone anymore.

A small, choked sob escaped before he could stop it, his shoulders trembling as tears spilled over. He tried to stay quiet—years of conditioning told him to hide his emotions, to not be a burden—but Lily was already awake. She felt his shaking and was up in an instant, cupping his face with both hands.

“Oh, my love,” she whispered, her voice soft and soothing. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Harry shook his head, pressing his lips together as he wiped at his tears with the back of his sleeve. He didn’t even know how to explain it.

James woke up next, brow furrowing as he looked between his son and wife. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“He’s upset,” Lily murmured, smoothing back Harry’s hair. “Harry, talk to us, baby.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of James’ shirt. “I—I just… I never…” He trailed off, frustration welling in his chest at his inability to put it into words. “I never had this.”

Lily’s breath hitched, and she pulled him into her arms without hesitation, cradling him close like he was still a toddler. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she murmured against his hair, rocking him gently. “I am so, so sorry.”

James wrapped his arms around them both, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “You have us now, Prongslet. Forever.”

The nickname startled a wet giggle out of him, and James grinned, brushing away his remaining tears with his thumb. “There’s my little ray of sunshine. We’re here, kiddo. You don’t ever have to feel alone again.”

Harry burrowed deeper into the embrace, breathing in the comforting scent of his parents. He still couldn’t believe it. He had a mum who stroked his hair and called him darling. He had a dad who held him tight and made him feel safe.

And for the first time in his life, he had a home.

Lily kissed his temple, tightening her hold. “We’re going to make up for every single moment we lost, love. I promise.”

Harry closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth of his parents. He had no doubt that she meant it.

After a while, James shifted, stretching with a groan. “Alright, I don’t know about you two, but I’m bloody starving.”

Lily rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re always starving.”

James grinned. “And you love me anyway.” He turned to Harry, tapping his nose gently. “What do you say, sweetheart? Fancy some breakfast? I make a mean stack of pancakes.”

Harry hesitated. “You cook?”

“Of course! Your mum’s great at potions, but I’m the one who works magic in the kitchen.” James wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on, let’s show you.”

Lily helped Harry into his slippers before scooping him up effortlessly. “Let’s go, little love,” she cooed, carrying him downstairs like he weighed nothing. “You don’t have to walk if you don’t want to.”

Harry blinked up at her, completely bewildered. No one had ever carried him before—at least, not since he could remember. He hesitated before curling into her, tucking his head under her chin.

She held him a little tighter. “My poor baby,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his messy hair. “You deserved so much better.”

The manor’s kitchen was warm and welcoming, with a rustic charm that made it feel cozy despite its size. James immediately set to work, rolling up his sleeves like a man on a mission.

“Alright, Prongslet, your dad is about to show you the fine art of pancake flipping.”

Harry, still curled up in Lily’s arms, watched in fascination as James flicked his wand, making ingredients float into the mixing bowl. He cracked eggs with a dramatic flourish, earning a giggle from Harry.

Lily smirked, stroking Harry’s back. “Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely not,” James said. “I am a professional.”

That was the moment he misjudged his wand movement, and a bit of flour poofed into his face. Harry burst into laughter, his eyes crinkling with pure joy. Lily giggled too, shaking her head fondly as James sputtered.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” James grinned mischievously, flicking a bit of flour at Harry’s nose.

Harry gasped, eyes wide, before dissolving into laughter again.

“Alright, alright, no food fights,” Lily scolded playfully, wiping flour off Harry’s face with her sleeve. “Merlin, you’re both just overgrown children.”

“But we’re your overgrown children,” James teased, pecking her cheek before flipping a pancake into the air. It landed perfectly on the plate. “See? Professional.”

Lily set Harry down at the counter, but not before peppering his face with a few more kisses. He squeaked, giggling as she booped his nose. “You are just the cutest thing,” she sighed, brushing his fringe back. “I can’t believe I missed out on this for eleven years.”

Harry’s laughter faded slightly at the reminder, but before he could sink into the memories of the Dursleys, James slid a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Eat up, baby. You need your strength.”

Harry hesitated, looking down at the fluffy stack. It smelled incredible, and his stomach growled in protest, but years of habit made him wait. The Dursleys had rules. He wasn’t supposed to eat before everyone else. He wasn’t supposed to take too much.

Lily noticed immediately. “Darling, you don’t have to wait,” she said softly, rubbing his arm. “This is all for you. You can eat as much as you want.”

James nodded, ruffling his hair. “No one’s going to take it away, kiddo.”

Harry swallowed hard before picking up his fork. The first bite was warm, buttery, and sweet. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

James and Lily watched him closely, and when he gave them a shy, happy smile, Lily’s eyes misted over. James grinned. “Good, yeah?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Really good.”

James tousled his hair again. “That’s my boy.”

Harry looked up at him, hesitating for only a second before murmuring, “Thanks, Daddy.”

James froze, his mouth parting slightly, before his entire face lit up with a blinding grin. Lily reached over and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Anytime, love.”

Harry took another bite, a warmth blooming in his chest.

He had a family. He had a home.

And for the first time in his life, he was truly, completely happy.

Chapter Text

The knock at the door was hesitant, like the person on the other side wasn’t sure if they should even be there.

James frowned. "Who in Merlin's name—"

Lily placed a hand on his arm, her expression soft but knowing. "I think I know who it is."

James blinked, but before he could say anything, another knock came, a little firmer this time.

Slowly, he walked to the door, hesitated for half a second, then pulled it open.

The world seemed to stop.

Remus stood there, slightly thinner than James remembered, with tired lines etched into his face and faded scars peeking from under his collar. But his amber eyes—the same ones James had seen alight with laughter in the Gryffindor common room—were wide with shock.

He was staring at James like he was a ghost. Technically, he sorta was.

“Moony,” James breathed.

Remus let out a shaky breath, his hands twitching at his sides. “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No, this isn’t—”

“It’s real,” James said softly.

Remus’ breath hitched, and before either of them could say another word, he surged forward, grabbing James in a bone-crushing hug.

James barely had time to brace himself before Remus was clutching at his robes like he was afraid he’d disappear. "I thought—" Remus choked out, his voice raw. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought—You idiot, I thought—"

“I know,” James murmured, his throat burning. He held him tighter. “I know, Moony.”

There was another soft step, and then Lily was there, wrapping her arms around them both.

Remus stiffened for only a second before letting out a broken noise and burying his face into her shoulder.

“Lily,” he whispered. “You too.”

“We’re here,” she murmured, rubbing his back gently. “We’re okay.”

They stayed like that for a moment—three people who had been shattered, now holding the pieces together.

Then a voice behind them, uncertain and quiet:

“… Um, who are you?”

James and Lily both pulled back, and Remus slowly turned his head.

Harry stood a few steps behind them, looking at Remus with confused but curious green eyes—Lily’s eyes.

Remus couldn’t breathe.

He knew that face. He knew that messy hair and sharp cheekbones and hesitant, searching expression.

He knew this boy.

“Harry,” he whispered.

Harry blinked. “Yeah…?”

Remus’ fingers twitched at his sides, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Then he took a shaky step forward. “I—I knew you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you were a baby.”

Harry frowned. “You did?”

James clapped a hand on Remus’ shoulder, grinning. “Did he ever. Moony here used to steal you from us every chance he got. Absolute menace.”

Lily hummed in agreement, already making her way over to Harry and smoothing down his hair. “We should’ve charged him a babysitting fee, honestly.”

Remus finally let out a weak laugh, shaking his head. “You’re one to talk, Prongs. You practically shoved him at me every time he so much as sneezed.”

“I was being a responsible father and making sure my best mate got baby-holding practice,” James said smugly.

Lily rolled her eyes. “That’s not how that works, love.”

Remus let out another laugh—genuine this time—before turning back to Harry.

“You probably don’t remember me,” he said gently. “But I remember you. And I—” He hesitated, before his expression softened completely. “Merlin, you’ve grown so much.”

Harry shifted awkwardly, not sure what to say to that, but before he could, Lily was already wrapping an arm around his shoulders, tucking him into her side.

“I know, right?” she sighed dramatically. “My baby’s all grown up. Sweetheart, you were such a tiny thing when you were little—"

“Mum,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

James ruffled his hair. “She’s not wrong, bud. You were the cutest little thing. Absolute heartbreaker.”

“Still is,” Lily said, kissing his forehead.

Harry groaned; cheeks warm when his mum only pecked his nose in response.

Remus pressed his fist to his mouth, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

James sighed, shaking his head. “Moony’s gone all soft on you, Prongslet. Tragic, really. He used to be cool.”

Remus scoffed. “I was never cool.”

“Yeah, but at least you pretended back then, mate.”

Harry snorted, and Remus’ eyes crinkled with something warm.

“Alright,” James said, clapping his hands. “Now that we’re done being emotional wrecks, what do you say we eat?”

Remus arched a brow. “You’re still just as food obsessed, I see.”

“Mate, I’ve been starved for twelve years,” James said dramatically. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a proper full-English?”

Lily sighed. “Here we go.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head as James threw an arm around him, dragging him inside.

Harry hesitated for only a second before following, glancing up at Remus as he walked beside him.

“… So, you’re really my dad’s friend?”

Remus looked down at him, something unbearably soft in his expression. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I really am.”

James threw an arm over Harry’s shoulder as they walked into the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Bambi, Moony’s one of the good ones.”

Harry blinked up at him. “Bambi?”

Lily smiled, nudging his cheek. “Oh, baby, we’ve got loads more where that came from.”

Harry groaned again, but deep down, something warm curled in his chest.

And as they all moved into the warmth of the house, something settled in Remus’ chest.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

Neither was Harry.

Chapter Text

Mornings in the Potter household were always warm (something Harry recently learned), filled with the smell of fresh pancakes, the sound of laughter, and, most of all, the unmistakable presence of family.

Harry sat at the kitchen counter, still wrapped in one of James’ oversized sweaters that hung off his frame. It smelled like his dad—like broom polish, ink, and something warm and familiar.

James was at the stove, flipping pancakes with unnecessary flourishes. “Alright, my little Prongslet,” he said, expertly catching a pancake in the pan. “Prepare yourself for the best breakfast of your life. These pancakes are made with love, magic, and the legendary Potter skills.”

Lily, who was slicing fruit at the other end of the kitchen, snorted. “And absolutely zero proper measurements.”

James gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “I am offended by the lack of faith, woman.”

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned.

Just as James was about to launch into a dramatic defense of his “culinary genius,” a knock echoed through the house.

Lily wiped her hands on a towel. “That must be Dumbledore.”

Harry sat up straighter as she walked to the door, his stomach flipping with curiosity. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and the last time Dumbledore showed up, it had changed his entire life.

The door creaked open, and there stood the headmaster, calm as ever. But Harry barely noticed him, because standing beside him—

Was a man who looked like he had been through hell.

His black hair was long and tangled, his face lined with exhaustion, and his clothes hung off his frame like he hadn’t eaten properly in years. But none of that mattered, because the second his gray eyes landed on James—

Everything stopped.

James froze. "Sirius?"

Sirius didn’t hesitate.

In an instant, he bolted forward, knocking over a chair in his rush, and before anyone could blink—

James was nearly tackled to the floor.

Sirius clung to him with a death grip, his whole-body trembling. "You’re alive," he choked out, voice cracking, fists gripping James’ shirt like he was terrified he’d vanish. "You’re alive."

James let out a wobbly breath, his own hands gripping Sirius just as fiercely. "Yeah, Pads. I’m here."

Sirius made a broken, gasping sound—something between a laugh and a sob—as he buried his face in James’ shoulder. "I thought I lost you—I thought—" His voice hitched, and suddenly he was sobbing. "James, I—"

James squeezed his eyes shut; his own voice thick with emotion. "I know, mate. I know."

Harry sat frozen in his chair, heart pounding. He had never seen anyone hug his dad like that, had never seen his father held onto like someone afraid to let go.

After what felt like forever, Sirius finally pulled back, his breath still unsteady. His stormy eyes flickered past James—

And landed on Harry.

Sirius inhaled sharply, looking like he had been punched in the gut. His entire body went still, his expression caught somewhere between awe and heartbreak.

“Harry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Harry stiffened.

Sirius took a shaky step forward, his hands clenching at his sides like he was resisting the urge to reach out. "You don’t know me," he said, voice trembling. "But I know you. I held you when you were a baby. I’m your godfather."

Harry blinked. "You are?"

Sirius let out a breathless, broken laugh, nodding. "Yeah."

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, cautiously, Harry reached out, brushing his fingers against Sirius’ sleeve.

Sirius let out a choked breath—then suddenly, without warning, he yanked Harry into a crushing embrace.

"Merlin, I missed so much," he whispered against Harry’s hair. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve raised you. I—" His voice cracked again. "You’re so small."

James snorted, wiping at his own eyes. “He was smaller, Padfoot.”

Harry groaned. “Daddy.”

Sirius pulled back just enough to cup Harry’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek like he was trying to convince himself he was real.

“You look just like James,” he murmured, eyes shining. Then he smirked. “But thank Merlin you got Lily’s good looks.”

James gasped dramatically. “Oi! I’m devastatingly handsome.”

Lily hummed, sipping her tea. “He’s got a point, love.”

Before Sirius could respond, another voice cut in.

"Merlin’s beard, you two are loud."

Sirius’ head snapped up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t break his neck.

Remus stood in the doorway, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.

For a moment, they just stared.

Then—

"MOONY!"

Sirius launched himself at Remus with all the grace of a rampaging hippogriff.

Remus staggered slightly, but he caught him, laughing even as Sirius nearly knocked him flat.

“You absolute bastard,” Sirius muttered into his shoulder. “Twelve bloody years, and not one letter?”

Remus chuckled, hugging him just as tightly. "You were in Azkaban."

“That’s no excuse,” Sirius grumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

Harry watched in fascination.

His family was completely mad.

And he loved it.

***

After the emotional reunion, James decided it was time for fun.

"Alright, baby," James said, cracking his knuckles. "Time to show you just how mental we can be."

Before Harry could ask, James shifted.

One moment, his father stood beside him. The next—

A massive stag stood in his place, antlers nearly brushing the ceiling.

Harry’s jaw dropped. "No way."

Prongs chuffed, nudging Harry’s cheek with his velvety nose.

Then—

With a dramatic leap, Sirius transformed into Padfoot, his massive black dog form bounding across the room.

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said, staring between them. "You both can turn into animals?!"

Prongs and Padfoot both wagged their tails.

Harry’s face lit up.

Then, before he knew it, Prongs knelt down.

"Are you—are you giving me a ride?"

Prongs snorted.

Harry grinned.

And in the next second, he was on his father’s back, laughing as Prongs trotted around the room.

Padfoot barked excitedly, chasing them in circles, his tongue lolling out.

Lily sighed, leaning against the counter. "Can we just get them their own house to cause trouble in?"

Remus smirked. “You do realize they’ll just have more space to cause trouble?”

Lily groaned.

Sirius, now human again, flopped onto the couch dramatically. “You love us, Evans.”

Harry, still clinging to his father, beamed.

His family was absolutely ridiculous.

And he wouldn’t change a single thing.

Chapter Text

The morning had started perfectly.

James had insisted on helping Harry get dressed, despite his son’s embarrassed protests.

“I have years of lost parenting to make up for, darling,” he’d declared, kneeling to fix Harry’s pajama top. “You might as well accept your fate.”

Lily smirked from where she was setting out fresh clothes. “Let him, sweetheart,” she cooed. “He just wants to take care of his baby.”

Harry huffed. “Mum, I’m not a baby.”

“You are my baby,” she corrected, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “A very handsome baby.”

James grinned. “She’s right, Prongslet. You’re our baby forever, tough luck.”

Harry groaned but secretly loved it. He wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to being taken care of. He certainly wasn’t used to James Potter kneeling in front of him, adjusting his sleeves and murmuring, “Gotta make sure my little prince looks perfect.”

He wasn’t used to his mum brushing through his hair with her fingers, smiling at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

He wasn’t used to any of it.

But then—

James reached to fix the hem of Harry’s shirt, and without thinking—without meaning to—Harry flinched.

It was instinct.

It was deeply ingrained.

James froze.

His hands, which had been warm and careful just moments ago, stopped midair. His hazel eyes, bright with laughter before, darkened with something unreadable.

Lily stilled beside them.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

James slowly pulled his hands back, his jaw tight. “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “why did you flinch?”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

“I—I didn’t,” he lied.

Lily’s lips parted slightly, her green eyes widening in horror.

“You did,” James murmured. His voice was dangerously soft. “You did.”

Harry clenched his fists. “It’s nothing.”

James took a breath—long, slow, controlled. Then he knelt back down, eye level with Harry. “Love,” he said, voice careful, “has someone hurt you?”

Harry’s throat tightened.

“We need you to tell us, darling,” Lily whispered, brushing his hair back. “Please.”

Harry looked at them—his mum, his dad, both of them so concerned, so loving. They wouldn’t be mad at him.

They’d be mad at him.

At Vernon.

And for the first time in his life, he thought—maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was safe to tell them.

He swallowed hard. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Uncle Vernon.”

The entire atmosphere in the room changed.

Lily’s breath hitched. James’ entire body locked up.

“What did he do?” James asked, his voice too calm.

Harry hesitated. “When I was younger, he just—he used to slap me.” He swallowed. “Then, when I got older… he got worse.”

James’ hands curled into fists.

Harry’s voice wavered. “He—he used his fists. Sometimes his belt.” His chest was tight. “Sometimes worse.”

James stopped breathing.

Lily’s green eyes burned.

James exhaled, slow and controlled. “What do you mean by worse, sweetheart?”

Harry’s throat closed.

James’ voice was firm. “Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “He just—he got angry. He’d throw me against the wall, or—” He bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably.

James’ fingers twitched. “Or what?”

Harry hesitated.

James took another breath, then—his voice low, dangerous—he asked, “Did he ever touch you?”

Harry froze.

James’ hands were shaking. “Tell me he didn’t.”

Harry couldn’t.

Lily gasped sharply, her hand flying to her mouth.

Sirius, who had been listening quietly, went deadly still. His grey eyes darkened with something murderous.

Remus’ entire body tensed.

James’ face changed. His jaw clenched; his breathing uneven. When he finally spoke, his voice was ice.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Lily’s hands shook where they cupped Harry’s face. “James—”

“I swear to Merlin,” James said, his voice vicious, “he is dead.”

Harry panicked. “Dad—”

James was already turning. “Pads, Moony, we’re leaving. Now.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “I’m with you.”

Remus nodded once. “I’m driving.”

And with vengeance in their hearts, the Marauders stormed out of the manor.

-

Vernon barely had time to open the door before James punched him.

The man stumbled back, crashing against the floor with a loud thud.

James stepped inside, his face shadowed with fury. Magic pulsed off him, suffocating the room.

Vernon sputtered. “What the—”

James kicked him in the ribs. Hard. “You touched my son.”

Vernon wheezed, curling in on himself.

James grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up and slamming him against the wall. “You hit him,” he growled. “You starved him.” He punched him again. “You let him sleep in a cupboard.”

Another hit.

Vernon’s nose cracked. Blood spilled.

James didn’t care.

“And worse,” he whispered, voice deadly.

Vernon whimpered. “Please—”

“You think you can beg?” James slammed him back. “You’re done.”

Sirius crouched beside him, voice low. “You deserve worse than this, you filthy, spineless bastard.”

Remus, calm as ever, murmured, “They’ll make an example of you in Azkaban.”

Vernon sobbed.

James sneered in disgust before spitting at his feet. “You’re lucky my son is waiting for me, or I’d end you myself.”

And then, as if summoned, half a dozen Aurors Apparated into the room.

“Lord Potter,” one greeted. “We received your message.”

James gestured at Vernon. “Take him.” His voice shook with fury. “Before I kill him myself.”

The Aurors wasted no time.

Vernon screamed as they forced his arms behind his back, snapping magic-reinforced shackles around his wrists.

“You can’t do this!” he shrieked. “You can’t—”

“You’re finished.” James' voice was lethal. “If you ever look in my son’s direction again—you won’t live to regret it.”

Sirius smirked. “Say hi to the Dementors for me.”

The moment Vernon was dragged away, Lily turned her gaze to Petunia.

Her sister stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, hands clutching the fabric of her skirt like it could somehow protect her from what was coming. Her face was pale—eyes wide with shock.

Because Lily was alive.

“You—” Petunia’s voice came out strangled, like she could barely process it. “You’re—you’re supposed to be dead.”

Lily tilted her head. “Disappointed?”

Petunia’s mouth snapped shut.

Sirius let out a dark chuckle. “What’s the matter, Tuney?” he drawled, arms crossed. “Not happy to see your beloved sister back?”

Petunia stiffened.

Lily took a step forward. “I didn’t expect a warm welcome, but Merlin, Petunia—” her voice shook as her magic crackled in the air, “—I never thought you’d let that man hurt my baby.”

Petunia flinched. “I—I didn’t—”

Lily let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “Don’t. Don’t you dare lie to me.” Her green eyes burned with fury. “You knew. You always knew.”

Petunia swallowed thickly. “He was—he was a freak, Lily.”

Sirius and Remus stiffened. James turned his head—very slowly.

Lily inhaled sharply. Then, in one fluid motion, she slapped her sister across the face.

The crack echoed through the room.

Petunia gasped, stumbling back, clutching her cheek.

Lily stepped closer. “My son is not a freak.” Her voice was poison. “He is everything. He is magic. He is light and love and everything you were too bitter to accept.”

Petunia quivered. “He—he wasn’t mine to raise—”

Lily’s nostrils flared. “And yet you kept him. Let him suffer. Let him starve. Let your husband—” She cut off, her whole body shaking.

James placed a hand on her back. “She’s not worth it, love.”

Lily took a ragged breath. Then—quietly, dangerously—she whispered, “You are nothing to me.”

Petunia visibly recoiled.

Lily’s voice turned icy. “And you will never see my son again.”

Then she turned on her heel and left without another glance.

And Petunia—for the first time in her life—had nothing to say.

Chapter Text

The hustle and bustle of the shopping district was overwhelming, especially for Harry. He was used to quiet, confined spaces, with people who didn’t want him around. But this? This was a different world. It was colorful and loud, with people laughing and calling out to each other in excitement as they moved from store to store. It was all so overwhelming.

And yet, Harry was safe. He was surrounded by people who cared for him—his parents, Sirius, and Remus—all of them watching over him like hawks, protecting him from the world he didn’t know.

James, Sirius, and Remus had insisted on taking Harry out to buy him new clothes. They didn’t know exactly what he needed, but James had been clear from the beginning: “We’re going to spoil him rotten.”

Sirius was already making a mental list of all the things Harry could need—new clothes, shoes, whatever would make him smile, and whatever would help him feel more comfortable in this new life.

“Alright, sweetheart,” James said, crouching down to look Harry in the eyes, “We’re going to get you some proper clothes today, okay? Whatever you want. If you see something, you get it. Got it?”

Harry nodded hesitantly, clutching his robes tightly around himself. It was so strange being outside, surrounded by so many people. He felt small, like the world was too big for him.

Sirius noticed the way Harry looked around, unsure, overwhelmed. He dropped down to Harry’s level and grinned. “Hey, little one, what do you say we start with something simple? Something fun?” He waved a hand dramatically. “Maybe a toy? Or two?”

James smiled but gave Sirius a pointed look. “Sirius, we’re buying him clothes today. Clothes, okay?”

“I’m serious,” Sirius said, then quickly added, “Not really, I’m not serious at all.”

Harry’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. Sirius could always make him feel at ease, even if just for a second.

Lily walked up to them, carrying a shopping bag, her eyes soft as she looked at her son. She could tell Harry was struggling, unsure of himself, and her heart swelled. She reached out and squeezed his hand gently. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re right here, okay? You can get whatever you want.”

But Harry was still hesitant. He felt like he had no right to anything. Even when James or Lily told him it was okay, part of him didn’t quite believe it. His fingers twitched nervously by his side, unsure of what to do with them.

James noticed. He reached out and, without a word, scooped Harry up into his arms. “There we go,” James said, holding Harry close. “I’ve got you, baby. Let’s go get you some things yeah?.”

Harry let out a soft breath, a mix of relief and embarrassment swirling within him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had carried him, and the warmth of James’ embrace made him feel safe. James’ arms were like a fortress around him, and Harry didn’t want to leave that safety.

James walked into the store with Harry cradled against his chest, every step slow and steady. Sirius followed behind, grinning. “You know, Prongs, if you keep carrying him like this, we might need to buy you a new robe too for the new muscles you'll be gaining. This kid is getting heavy.”

James shot him a look, but there was a softness to it, like he didn’t mind the teasing at all. “Don’t push it, Pads,” he muttered, but then his gaze softened as he looked at Harry. “You’re my baby. I’ll carry you whenever you need me to.”

Harry blinked up at James, unsure what to say. He hadn’t been held like this since he was too small to remember, and it made him feel... safe. But also... embarrassed. A part of him wondered if he was being too much of a baby.

James must have sensed the hesitation. He placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead. “You’re not a baby, Harry. But you’re still my little boy. And I’m not ever going to let you go. Understand?”

Harry nodded, his face turning pink with the affection.

They made their way through the store, Harry still in James’ arms, his head tucked against his father’s chest. Sirius and Remus were there, picking out items and holding them up for approval. They didn’t even wait for Harry to say yes or no. They would simply toss it into the basket with a grin, and Harry would watch, too shy to stop them.

At one point, James spotted a bright blue hoodie with a design of a dragon on it. “What do you think of this, Harry?” he asked, holding it up to his son.

Harry’s eyes widened at the dragon. “It’s... cool.”

“Yeah?” James grinned. “I knew you’d love it.”

Sirius leaned over, laughing. “Prongs, you’re making him sound like a little old man. He’s a kid, let him pick something fun!”

James raised an eyebrow. “If I let him pick, we’ll leave with a whole store of toys.” He glanced down at Harry. “I’m serious, buddy. You can get a few things. Whatever you want, but I want you to be comfortable.”

Harry still wasn’t sure. “I don’t want to take anything.”

Lily’s voice cut through the uncertainty, gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, you can take whatever you want. We have the means to give you everything. And if it makes you happy, then it’s yours.”

James smiled warmly at Harry’s tentative expression. “I mean it, kiddo. You don’t even know just how rich we are. You’ve got the whole world in front of you now.”

Harry blinked, confused. “You’re rich?”

James chuckled softly, nodding. “Very much so. But it’s not about the money, Harry. It’s about what makes you happy. And right now? I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Harry’s eyes filled with doubt. He didn’t know if he could trust the promise—he’d never had anyone give him what he wanted before. He had always learned to live without.

“Let’s go find you something really nice,” Sirius suggested, giving him an encouraging grin. “What do you say, pup?”

Harry nodded slowly, his shyness giving way to the gentleness around him. Sirius was right. For the first time, he didn’t feel like an intruder or unwanted. This place—this was his.

-

Harry had been doing okay. He was still overwhelmed—every time he so much as looked at something, one of the Marauders would grab it and insist he have it—but he was starting to feel safe.

Until he stepped into the changing room.

It wasn’t even that big, but the moment the door shut behind him, his chest tightened.

The small, enclosed space. The way the overhead lights buzzed too loudly. The silence.

He was alone.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus, shaking hands reaching for the jumper he was supposed to try on. But then—

The walls seemed to press in.

His throat closed up.

Dudley used to shove me in the cupboard and lock the door.

Harry stumbled back, his back hitting the mirror. The moment he felt something behind him, he flinched violently, his breath coming fast.

I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe—

He clawed at the door handle, his vision swimming, hands shaking too badly to grip it properly.

The door burst open, and suddenly, James was there.

“Harry!”

Harry gasped, barely registering the arms that caught him before he could crumple. His chest ached, his heart hammering like it was trying to escape.

Sirius appeared beside them, eyes wide. “Shit—Prongs, what’s wrong with him?”

James didn’t answer. He was already sinking to the floor, pulling Harry into his lap. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Harry couldn’t breathe.

James rocked him slightly, rubbing firm circles into his back. “Okay, baby, listen to me. In for four, out for four. Can you do that for me?”

Harry tried—Merlin, he tried—but his lungs wouldn’t listen.

Sirius crouched beside them, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Hey, pup, you’re okay. You’re not alone, I promise.”

James cupped Harry’s cheeks, forcing him to look at him. “Baby, it’s me. I need you to focus on my voice.”

Harry made a small, choked noise, his vision still swimming.

James pressed their foreheads together. “There we go, sweetheart, just focus on me. You’re safe. Daddy’s got you.”

Harry clutched at his father’s robes, grounding himself in the warmth and solidity of his presence. The words 'Daddy’s got you' hit something deep inside him.

James kissed his forehead. “That’s my good boy. Just keep breathing, baby. I’m right here.”

Sirius, clearly distressed but trying to help, reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Hey, pup, look what I have.”

Harry barely managed to look up.

It was a chocolate frog.

Sirius unwrapped it and pressed it into Harry’s hands. “Moony would kill me if I let you have a panic attack without chocolate.”

Harry let out a tiny, breathless laugh—more of a wheeze, really, but it was something.

James smiled. “There’s my baby. Knew you were still in there.”

Harry finally managed a shaky inhale, then exhale.

James let out a relieved breath. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Merlin, pup, you scared the hell out of us.”

Harry’s face burned in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

James immediately kissed his forehead again. “No. Absolutely not, sweetheart. You don’t ever apologize for this; do you understand me?”

Harry bit his lip, nodding hesitantly.

James pulled him closer, his arms strong and safe around him. “I don’t know what happened, but I never want you to think you have to handle it alone, okay?”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded again, his fingers still gripping his dad’s robes.

James sighed, rocking him slightly again. “Okay, baby, I think we’re done with shopping for today.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, Prongs, because you bought the entire bloody store already.”

James huffed. “He needed it all.”

Harry let out a small, tired giggle.

James beamed. “There’s my baby. Alright, c’mon, let’s go find your mum and Moony before they buy out the chocolate shop.”

Harry hesitated. “Can you… carry me?”

James melted instantly. “Oh, sweetheart, you never even have to ask.”

And with that, he scooped Harry into his arms, cradling him close like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Chapter Text

Gringotts was an imposing sight. Its white marble pillars loomed over the bustling Diagon Alley, the golden doors reflecting the sunlight in an almost blinding way. Harry had been here before, of course, but never like this. Never with his parents flanking him, James’ hand on his back, Lily’s arm linked with his. And certainly never with Sirius and Remus trailing behind like personal bodyguards, both exuding a quiet but dangerous energy.

He felt small in comparison. Like he didn’t belong. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he didn’t say anything as they stepped inside.

A goblin at the desk barely spared them a glance. “State your business.”

James’ grip on Harry tightened. “We need to check on my son’s vaults.” His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying sharpness to it, an edge that had Harry glancing up at him in surprise.

The goblin’s eyes flicked over to Harry. “Name?”

“Harry Potter,” Lily answered before Harry could, her hand running absently through his hair, soothing.

There was a long silence.

Then, the goblin stiffened. His beady eyes snapped back to James, taking him in fully for the first time. His mouth fell open slightly. “Lord Potter…?”

James’ lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah, so you do recognize me.”

The goblin scrambled to stand. “We were told—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Follow me. Now.”

They were led down a long corridor, deeper into the bank than Harry had ever gone. Eventually, they stopped in a grand office. The goblin from before took a seat behind a massive desk, clearing his throat. “There have been… irregularities with Lord Potter’s accounts.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Irregularities?”

Harry frowned. “I don’t—”

But the goblin had already snapped his fingers, summoning a long scroll of parchment. He peered at it before looking up sharply. “Something has been done to you, young master.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Your magic.” The goblin’s eyes gleamed. “It has been suppressed.”

The room fell into complete silence.

Harry could barely breathe.

James went absolutely still.

Lily’s hands, once gentle, suddenly clenched into fists.

“What did you just say?” James asked, dangerously quiet.

Sirius cursed. Remus inhaled sharply.

The goblin tapped the parchment. “Your son’s magical core has been restricted for years. This would explain any signs of weakness, exhaustion, or lack of magical growth.”

Harry’s mouth went dry. That did explain things. The way he’d always felt weaker than his classmates. The way his spells never seemed to come as naturally as they should. He’d thought—he’d thought it was his fault. That he just wasn’t good enough.

Lily’s breath was ragged. “Who did this?”

The goblin hesitated. “That information is… classified.”

James’ hand slammed down onto the desk. “Unclassify it, then.” His voice was sharp, lethal.

“I cannot.”

“Try.”

The goblin swallowed but shook his head. “It was authorized at a high level.”

“By who?” Lily demanded, her voice rising, frantic, furious. “Who would do this to our baby?”

Harry flinched at the emotion in her voice. He had never seen his mother look so murderous.

James, on the other hand, was terrifyingly calm. He turned to Harry, kneeling in front of him, gripping his arms. His hazel eyes were ablaze. “How long have you felt weak?”

Harry hesitated. “I… I don’t know. Always?”

Lily sucked in a sharp breath.

Sirius swore under his breath.

Remus looked devastated.

James’ hands cupped Harry’s face, his touch infinitely gentle despite the raw fury in his eyes. “You listen to me, baby. You are not weak. You never have been.” His thumbs brushed over Harry’s cheeks. “They stole something from you. But we’re going to fix it. Alright?”

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. He nodded.

Lily pulled him into a hug so tight he could barely breathe. “I am going to tear apart whoever did this to you,” she whispered furiously. “I am going to burn the world down if I have to.”

Harry let out a shaky laugh, burying his face in her shoulder.

James wrapped an arm around them both, pressing a kiss to Harry’s head. “You’re safe now, baby. We’ve got you.”

Sirius stepped closer, rubbing Harry’s back. “Kid, you’re about to have your magic unlocked and trust me, it’s going to be amazing. We’ll train you up, and you’ll be throwing spells around before you know it.”

Remus nodded. “You’ll be stronger than ever, kiddo.”

Harry felt a warmth settle in his chest. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone.

James stood, his expression dark. “Fix it.”

The goblin nodded hurriedly. “We can begin reversing the suppression immediately.”

Lily’s grip tightened on Harry. “Do it.”

Harry took a deep breath.

Things were about to change.

And for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.
-

Harry lied, he was a bit afraid.

The goblins worked quickly. A team of them had been summoned, whispering in their strange, guttural language as they set up the ritual. Ancient runes glowed on the stone walls of the private chamber.

Harry sat in a high-backed chair in the center of the room, but he barely noticed the grandeur. His hands were clenched in his lap, his heart hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else.

James knelt in front of him, one warm hand gripping Harry’s tightly, the other gently pushing back the strands of hair that kept falling into his face.

“Ready, baby?” James asked softly.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah.”

James’ hazel eyes darkened, but he nodded. “I’ve got you. The whole time.”

Lily kissed Harry’s forehead, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart.”

Sirius and Remus stood close behind, their expressions set in grim determination.

The lead goblin approached. “The process will be painful,” he warned. “Your son’s magic has been forced into dormancy for years. It will fight to be released.”

James’ grip on Harry tightened. “Just do it.”

The goblin nodded and raised his hands.

And then—it began.

A burning sensation erupted in Harry’s chest.

It spread through his veins like fire, twisting, tearing, pulling. A choked gasp tore from his throat as his body jerked violently. It felt like something inside him was being ripped open.

“Ah—!”

Lily gasped.

James was immediately there, hands bracing Harry’s shoulders as his son convulsed. “I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he murmured, voice steady despite the sheer panic in his eyes.

Harry whimpered. It hurt. It hurt so much.

The magic inside him burned.

“Make it stop—!” Harry choked out.

Lily was kneeling beside them in an instant, her hands shaking as she cupped his face. “Oh, sweetheart, I know, I know,” she whispered, pressing frantic kisses to his forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love—”

James’ arms wrapped tightly around Harry, pulling him against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding. “Shhh, I’ve got you, baby. You’re doing so good.”

Harry clung to him. “D-Daddy—!”

James shattered.

“I know, baby, I know!” He kissed the top of Harry’s head, rocking him gently as tremors wracked his small frame. “It’s almost over, I swear, just hold on for me, baby boy.”

Lily’s hands carded through Harry’s hair desperately. “I’ve got you, my darling. You’re safe, you’re safe.”

Then—

A blast of raw magic surged from Harry’s body.

Golden light exploded in the chamber, rattling the stone walls. James shielded Harry immediately, his wand raised, magic flaring protectively. Sirius and Remus stepped forward, ready to defend, but—

It was done.

The pain stopped.

Harry slumped forward, utterly drained.

James caught him instantly. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The goblins murmured amongst themselves. “His magic is freed. He will be… exhausted for some time.”

Lily barely heard them. She was stroking Harry’s hair, her lips pressed to his temple. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

James scooped Harry into his arms effortlessly.

“Shhh, my baby,” he murmured, holding him close.

Harry blinked blearily up at him, barely conscious. “M’tired, daddy.”

James pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know, angel. Sleep.”

Harry’s fingers curled weakly into his father’s shirt as he let exhaustion pull him under.

James held him tightly, his expression unreadable. Then, he turned to the goblins, his voice deadly calm.

“Find out who did this.”

Lily’s green eyes were ablaze, giving them a sharp smile. “And when you do tell us first.”

James adjusted his grip on Harry, pressing another kiss to his son’s hair. His voice softened as he whispered,

“You’re safe, baby. You’re mine now. No one will ever touch you again.”

Chapter Text

For once, things were calm in the Potter household.

Harry had spent most of the day recovering after unbinding his magic, still exhausted from the ordeal. James had barely let him walk on his own, carrying him around and shamelessly babying him every chance he got.

("I have legs, Dad," Harry had muttered, bright red.)

("Yeah, yeah, but my arms work fine, and my baby is tired," James had replied, nuzzling into his hair.)

Harry had lost that argument.

So now, with him curled up in the living room in the middle of a mountain of pillows, the Marauders had decided to introduce him to the single most dangerous game known to mankind.

Monopoly.

-

Sirius grabbed the dog. Obviously.

Remus took the hat, looking far too serious about this.

Lily picked the iron, a knowing smirk on her lips.

James chose the battleship, smirking like he was already winning.

Harry hesitated before picking the car.

Lily beamed. "Good choice, love."

James cracked his knuckles. "Alright, let’s do this."

And then—the dice rolled.

The first ten minutes were decently civil.

The next ten minutes? All-out war.

James was shamelessly bankrupting Sirius, cackling as he bought every single property Sirius landed on.

Sirius slammed his hands on the table. "YOU’RE TARGETING ME."

James grinned, lounging back like the rich monopoly tyrant he was. “It’s business, Pads.”

“You’re a menace.”

James smirked wider. “A rich menace.”

Sirius pointed a dramatic finger at him. "You are a villain."

James tossed his massive pile of Monopoly money in the air. "And yet, who is winning?"

Sirius screamed.

-

While Sirius and James were bickering like children, Lily was quietly hoarding all the high-value properties like a true mastermind.

Sirius squinted at her suspiciously. “Wait. Wait. You’ve got… Park Place, Boardwalk, AND—” His jaw dropped. "YOU HAVE ALL FOUR RAILROADS?!"

Lily smiled sweetly. "I do."

James peered at her stack of money and whistled. "Merlin, Evans. Remind me to never let you handle our finances."

"Too late, darling." she replied, flipping through her mountain of bills.

Harry stared at her in awe. "Mum, you're scary."

Lily just kissed his forehead. "I know, sweetheart."

-

Remus had barely spoken the entire game.

And yet—somehow—he was winning.

Harry blinked at his pile of money and properties. "How?"

Remus simply sipped his tea. "Skill, little one."

Sirius groaned. "You’ve barely said anything this whole time, and yet you own half the board!"

Remus shrugged. "Observation, Padfoot."

James narrowed his eyes. "You knew this would happen, didn’t you?"

Remus just smiled.

Harry whispered, "I think Uncle Remus is really smart."

Lily patted his cheek. "Very perceptive, baby."

-

Harry had free reign to buy whatever he wanted.

Why?

Because Lily was sneakily handing him extra money every turn.

James pretended not to notice.

Sirius definitely noticed.

"OI, OI, OI—WHY does Harry have more money than me?!"

Lily blinked innocently. "Because he’s my baby."

Sirius threw his hands in the air. "You're rigging the game, Evans!"

James slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. "That’s my boy. Take all the money, baby."

Harry turned scarlet. "D-Dad—"

"Aw, c’mon, you’re adorable," James cooed, ruffling his hair.

Lily immediately kissed his cheek. "The cutest."

Sirius dramatically clutched his chest. "Oh, to be doted on like that—"

Remus, not even looking up, whacked him with a pillow.

-

Every time Sirius landed somewhere, it was James’ property, and he had to pay up.

"This is RIGGED," Sirius growled, slamming a stack of money onto the board. "Every—single—property—is yours!"

James smirked, twirling a mustache that didn’t exist. "What can I say, Pads? It’s just good business."

Sirius groaned. "I hate this game."

James patted his head. "You’re just poor."

Sirius screamed again.

-

Then—came the final blow.

Harry, sitting innocently with his little stack of properties, finally landed on Boardwalk.

A property that Lily owned.

Harry hesitated. "How much do I owe?"

Lily smiled. "Nothing, sweetheart."

Sirius’ jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"

Lily placed Boardwalk in front of him. "It’s yours now, love."

Sirius fell out of his chair. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

James burst out laughing.

Remus just shook his head, sipping his tea. "Incredible."

Sirius pointed at Harry, playfully glaring at him. "You are spoiled rotten."

Harry turned bright red. "I didn’t ask for it—"

James just hugged him close. "My baby deserves everything."

Sirius groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I’m never playing this game again."

-
Final Scores.

James: Richer than he has ever been in his life.
Lily: Secretly the true winner.
Remus: Undefeated, probably knew this would happen from the start.
Harry: Doted on to unreal levels.
Sirius: Completely and utterly....bankrupt.

And thus, the Great Monopoly War ended—with James cackling in victory, Sirius defeated, Lily smug, Remus still sipping on his tea, and Harry being carried off by his dad for some post-game cuddle.

Harry sighed, face still bright red as James nuzzled into his hair.

"Monopoly is terrifying."

"Welcome to the family, baby," Lily said sweetly.

-

Once Monopoly was finally over, Harry curled up on the sofa, half-asleep against James’ side.

James ran a hand through his son’s messy hair, his heart aching with love.

He almost lost this.

Almost lost his baby.

And someone—some filthy bastard—had done this to Harry. Had bound his magic, weakened him, left him to suffer under the Dursleys.

James’ jaw clenched.

They would pay.

Oh, they would pay.

Whoever was responsible…

James was going to destroy them.

A hand on his arm steadied him.

James blinked, glancing up at Remus. The werewolf was watching him with quiet understanding.

“…Not yet,” Remus murmured.

James exhaled slowly, nodding. “Not yet.”

But soon.

For now… he looked down at Harry, who had fallen asleep, still wrapped in Lily’s softest blankets.

For now, he just pulled his son closer and kissed his forehead.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet.

Too quiet, really. But James didn’t mind. For once, the Marauders weren’t shouting over each other, Remus wasn’t cleaning obsessively, Lily wasn’t ranting about cauldrons and potion ingredients, and Sirius wasn’t trying to charm the portrait to wink at him.

Lily, Remus, and Sirius had gone out to pick up some rare potion ingredients for a calming draught Lily wanted to brew for Harry—just in case he ever needed it. James had stayed back, claiming he wanted to clean up the kitchen.

Really, he just didn’t like leaving Harry alone for too long. Even asleep, his baby deserved someone close by.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight as James stirred his tea absentmindedly. He leaned back against the counter, sipping the hot drink, when—

Shuffle.

James blinked. He froze, straining to hear.

Soft footsteps.
Cloth rustling.

He set the mug down quietly and padded out of the kitchen, his wand tucked into his pajama waistband just in case. His eyes scanned the dimly lit hallway, following the barely-there sounds to the laundry room.

The door was cracked open.

He pushed it gently—and his heart broke at what he saw.

Harry stood there, small hands clutching his bundled-up sheets, trembling.

Tears were falling down his face in quiet, panicked drops. His lip wobbled, and he was trying—desperately—not to make a sound.

James' chest constricted.

“Harry?”

The boy jumped violently, instinctively shrinking into himself. “I—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry—I was gonna wash it—please don’t be mad—” His voice cracked.

James crossed the room in two strides, immediately kneeling in front of him. “Hey, hey, no—no, sweetheart, look at me. I’m not mad. You’re okay.”

Harry shook his head furiously, still clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, eyes wide and terrified. “I just—I couldn’t wake up fast enough—and—and I didn’t want you to see—”

“Oh, baby,” James whispered, voice thick with pain.

He gently pried the sheets from Harry’s hands, setting them aside, and pulled his son into his arms. Harry didn’t resist—he collapsed into his father’s chest, shaking with soft, broken sobs.

James wrapped his arms around him tightly, one hand cradling the back of Harry’s head, the other stroking his back slowly, lovingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

Harry shook his head again. “But I—I’m eleven—I’m not supposed to—and it’s gross, and—”

“No. No, baby,” James whispered fiercely. “You are not gross. You’re not bad. You didn’t choose this. You’ve been through more than anyone ever should, and your body’s just... coping. That’s all it is.”

Harry’s fingers twisted in his shirt.

James just rocked him slowly. “You don’t ever have to be scared of me, okay? Not for this. Not for anything. If something scares you, or if you’re sad, or hurting, or even if you just want to cry—you come to me. I will always hold you.”

He kissed the top of his head.

“You’re my baby.”

Harry let out a choked sob.

“Alright, sweetheart,” James murmured, stroking Harry’s messy hair as the boy clung to his chest. “How about we get you into a nice, warm bath, yeah? Help you feel better.”

Harry tensed. Not fully resisting—but not relaxed either.

James picked up on it immediately, crouching down slightly to meet his eyes. “It’s just us, baby. I’ll be right there the whole time, I promise.”

Harry finally nodded, just a little.

James carried him into the bathroom and sat him gently on the closed toilet seat, then turned to run the bath. He made sure the temperature was perfect—warm but not too hot—and added some bubbles, the gentle kind that smelled like lavender. Sirius had once bought them as a joke, but Lily kept them because “bubble baths are underrated.”

Once the water was ready, James returned to Harry with the softest smile.

“Let’s get you out of these, yeah?” he said quietly, easing Harry out of his pajamas with gentle hands and a father’s care. He could see the boy's blush creeping across his cheeks, eyes flicking away.

But James kept his voice steady, soothing.

“You know, when you were little,” he said as he helped Harry step into the water, “I used to imagine giving you baths like this all the time. Helping you splash around. Getting soap in your hair. You’d have had little rubber duckies and everything.”

Harry blinked up at him, unsure.

James gave a soft smile. “I was gonna be the best at bath time. Sirius said I’d just get soaked. I said good, because I’d get to hear you laugh.”

That pulled a small twitch at the corner of Harry’s mouth. Not quite a smile—but close.

James rolled up his sleeves and knelt beside the tub. “Alright, sit back, love. I’ve got you.”

He gently poured warm water over Harry’s head with a cup, careful not to get it in his eyes. The boy flinched slightly at first, but then relaxed as James’ fingers moved gently through his hair.

“You’ve got Lily’s hair, you know,” James said fondly, lathering up the shampoo. “All wild and soft and impossible to tame.”

Harry’s eyes drifted closed.

The warm water. The bubbles. The way James’ hands moved so carefully—like he was handling glass.

He’d never had this.

Not once.

Not a warm bath.

Not someone washing his hair.

Not someone who hummed softly and called him baby and sweetheart and told him stories about the way he was dreamed of and loved before he was even born.

James was humming now—some soft tune Harry didn’t recognize, but felt safe hearing. He rinsed the shampoo out, then moved to gently wash Harry’s back and arms with a soft cloth, always speaking low and kind.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, proud and warm. “Such a good boy for me, kiddo.”

Harry flushed, but the knot in his chest loosened.

“Let’s get the bubbles off your nose,” James teased gently, swiping the foam away with the corner of the washcloth. “Honestly, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Lily’s going to take one look at you all clean and warm and she’s going to cry.”

Harry’s lip wobbled slightly.

James saw it and set the cloth down, reaching to cup his damp cheek.

“Hey. You okay?”

“I never…” Harry’s voice was soft and uncertain. “I never got to… do this. Before. Not like this. Not nice.”

James felt something snap in his chest—but he smiled through it. He leaned in and kissed Harry’s forehead, pressing their foreheads together after.

“Well, you do now,” he whispered. “And I’m going to do this a hundred times if you want. A thousand. However many baths you need. However many moments you missed—we’re going to give them all back, baby. Every single one.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, and James wrapped his arms around him, not caring if his sleeves got soaked. The bathwater sloshed slightly, but he didn’t move away—just held him close, chest to chest, like a father comforting a newborn.

“You’re safe,” James murmured. “You’re mine. And no one will ever, ever hurt you again.”

After the bath, James wrapped Harry in the fluffiest towel they owned—well, it was technically Lily’s, but he’d steal a hex for his kid any day. He dried Harry off with slow, careful hands, ruffling his hair just enough to make the boy huff quietly through his nose.

“There’s that cute little frown,” James teased gently, kissing his forehead. “You’re going to be so spoiled, baby boy. Just warning you.”

Harry, pink-cheeked and bleary-eyed from the warm water, blinked up at him. “I’m not… a baby.”

James grinned. “You’re my baby.”

He carried him into the bedroom and set him down on the bed, rummaging through the chest of drawers Lily had filled with soft things just for Harry—cotton pajama sets, fluffy socks, sweaters that somehow smelled like vanilla and home.

“Let’s see…” James held up a pair of pajamas decorated with little golden snitches. “These okay?”

Harry nodded shyly.

James dressed him with the same care he’d shown during the bath—soft touches, no sudden moves, always checking in.

“Arms up—there we go. That’s it, sweetheart.”

Once Harry was warm in his pajamas and little socks, James sat him down gently on the bed and pulled out the soft-bristled hairbrush Lily kept on the dresser.

“Now, we do this part nice and slow, alright? Tell me if it hurts.”

He began brushing carefully, starting at the ends like Lily taught him, working through the tangles with slow, steady strokes.

Harry melted into it almost immediately.

He wasn’t used to being touched without flinching. But somehow, James’ hands—warm, sure, and so full of love—felt like safety itself.

“You’ve got the softest hair, you know,” James murmured. “Bet it'll drive Lily mad. She’d probably try to smooth it down with her wand and give up halfway.”

That got a sleepy giggle out of Harry.

“There he is,” James smiled. “There’s my boy.”

Once his hair was brushed to a soft halo, James pulled him into his arms and scooped him up effortlessly. Harry didn’t protest—just buried his face into his dad’s neck with a tired little sigh, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact kind of comfort.

James carried him to the bed and laid down with him, tucking the blankets around them both.

Harry blinked up at him, small and unsure.

“Can you… stay? Just for a bit?”

James leaned down and kissed his forehead, his nose, both cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not ever again.”

He laid Harry on his chest, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

And when Harry finally, finally drifted off—safe, clean, warm, loved—James stared at the ceiling with eyes full of fire.

Whoever stole this from his son—whoever bound his magic, locked away his light, made him afraid of sleep, of baths, of love—

James was going to destroy them.

But for now, he held his son.

Wrapped him in everything soft.

And whispered, over and over, “You’re safe. You’re mine. And you’re so loved.”

Chapter Text

Dumbledore’s office was unusually quiet.

Fawkes cooed softly from his perch as the ancient wizard gently turned away, giving the Potters a moment of privacy.

Harry stood in the center, his bag clutched tightly in his hand, scarf wrapped a bit too snugly around his neck thanks to a certain over-attentive father.

James knelt in front of him, adjusting it anyway.

“You’ve got your mirror?” James asked softly, voice thick with that ache only a parent feels when their baby’s going somewhere they can’t follow.

Harry nodded, lifting the little golden snitch-shaped mirror from his pocket.

“If I talk into it… you’ll hear me?”

“Anytime, baby,” James murmured, brushing Harry’s hair back and cupping his cheek. “Even if it’s just to say hi, or you miss us, or you want Sirius to send you another bag of sweets.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Sirius already packed me three.”

“Four,” Lily corrected with a fond smile, stepping closer to squeeze Harry’s shoulders. “One’s hidden in the secret compartment in your bag. In case of a chocolate emergency.”

“I’ll… I’ll miss you,” Harry whispered, trying so hard to be brave.

James pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We’ll miss you more. But you’re not alone, sweetheart. You’ve got Ron and Hermione. And you can call us anytime. Just say the word.”

“If anyone’s mean,” Sirius chimed in from where he leaned against the fireplace, “hex first, cry later.”

“Sirius,” Remus said with a tired sigh. “He’s eleven.”

“…Fine. Hex responsibly.”

Harry actually laughed. Soft and small—but real.

And then the door creaked open.

Professor McGonagall stood there, patient but clearly moved.

“Time to go, Potter,” she said, giving Harry the gentlest smile he’d ever seen from her.

He turned back to James one last time—and James pulled him into a crushing hug, holding the back of his head protectively.

“Love you always, baby.”

“Love you too,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder, clutching his jumper for a second longer before letting go.

Lily kissed both his cheeks, brushed his fringe lovingly, and whispered, “Be brave, my love. But never too brave to ask for help.”

And then Harry followed McGonagall through the corridors of Hogwarts.

He was met halfway by two redheaded blurs and a bushy-haired missile.

“Harry!” Hermione tackled him with a tight hug, followed by Ron who clapped him hard on the back.

“We’ve been worried sick!” she scolded, eyes wide. “Where did you go?!”

Harry shifted nervously. “I, um… I was with my parents.”

There was silence.

Hermione blinked. “Your what?”

Ron dropped the Chocolate Frog he was eating. “You mean—what?”

“My parents,” Harry said, a little stronger now. “They’re alive. They came back from the dead… and they came back for me.”

His friends just gawked at him.

And for once, Harry didn’t feel like shrinking under it.

-

James didn’t walk into Gringotts. He stormed.

There was something off in the air, magic curling off him like heat waves. Goblins backed away instinctively.

“Lord Potter,” Ragnok greeted warily.

“I need access to my son’s magical history file,” James said, voice low and calm in the way a hurricane is calm before it lands. “Now.”

Ragnok didn’t argue.

Deep in the vault archives, a set of ancient scrolls lay bound in magic. One unfurled at his touch, glowing faint gold—until the glow snapped dark red.

Suppressed.

Violated.

Bound.

He read the binding signature. And then froze.

“Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Silence.

James didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.

Then slowly, he rolled the scroll up and whispered, “He touched my son’s core.”

Ragnok took a cautious step back.

James lifted his head. His eyes weren’t warm anymore—they were sharp, glassy with rage, his jaw clenched so tight it ticked.

“He reached inside Harry before he could speak. Before he could cry.”

The power in the room shifted, heavy and suffocating. Magic bled from James in pulses—violent, protective, ancient.

“I want every detail,” he said. “Every trace. I want to know when, how, and who let him near my boy.”

“Some of it may be buried,” Ragnok said carefully. “And Voldemort… was very clever.”

James turned to him, voice cold as steel. “I was cleverer.”

He slammed his hand on the desk and snarled, “He bound my baby’s magic. He hurt him. He made him afraid of himself. When I find out how—when I find out who helped him—I swear to every god in this realm…”

He leaned in.

“I’ll make Voldemort look merciful.”

The scroll sparked faintly. James didn’t flinch.

“Thank you,” he said curtly, already turning. “You’ve been helpful.”

Ragnok watched him leave, skin cold.

Because that wasn’t James Potter.

That was Lord Potter, head of one of the oldest families in Britain—father of a boy who’d been violated in the deepest way possible.

And someone—somewhere—was going to pay for it.