Chapter Text
The thirty-first of August always had a bittersweet air about it in the Potter household. It was the final day of the summer holidays, but it was also the eve of the children’s return to Hogwarts.
The final day of summer was also James’ birthday. That year, as the entire extended family and their friends gathered to enjoy the summer evening in the Potters' back garden, he was celebrating his seventeenth birthday.
"Do you feel any different at all?" his little sister, Lily, asked after he blew out the eighteen candles decorating the enormous birthday cake Grandma Molly had made for him.
James considered the question as the wisps of smoke drifted into the soft twilight, illuminated by enchanted lanterns scattered across the lawn and tables. The truth was he didn’t feel different at all.
“Should I?” he replied mischievously, “Let’s see…”
He took out his wand and made Lily’s red hair stand on edge, making her look like a small, freckled sun.
“James, Stop it!”
“No one’s coming to take me to Azkaban, so I guess I am different now,” James said as Lily smoothed her air down.
“Just wait till we get to Hogwarts!” she threatened him.
James laughed, but secretly thought that he should be careful. Lily was about to start her second year at Hogwarts, but knew more hexes than most of the girls in his year.
"Still bullying little girls, I see? Some things never change,” a pleasant voice said from behind them.
"Teddy! You came," James called as he turned around, though he checked himself just before hugging his godbrother. Instead, he settled for a handshake.
"Don’t be a git," Teddy said, pulling him into a short bear hug. Then he hugged Lily tightly and hoisted her into the air, making her giggle, even though she was really too old for it.
Teddy was four years older than James, meaning he was twenty-one, and a graduate of the Auror Academy. He had always been James' role model, and that didn’t change even as he turned seventeen; James also dreamed of attending the Academy and becoming an Auror, hunting down Dark Wizards and monsters, like his father and his Uncle Ron, and now Teddy.
As the son of the Head of the Auror Office, James was intimately familiar with many of the Aurors' most famous and daring exploits. He also knew there were many intriguing fields in which Aurors could specialise. Teddy, for instance, having been born a Metamorphmagus, specialised in Concealment and Disguise. According to Uncle Ron, who acted as Dean of the Academy, Teddy was among the most talented in his field.
Today Teddy had decided to honour James and his family by making an effort to look as much like the Potters as possible; he wore his hair black and untidy and had made his face look remarkably similar to James’s. Only his eyes remained the same—amber and almond-shaped. He had always had trouble changing them (perhaps because everyone constantly told him how much they reminded them of his late father).
"We thought you wouldn't make it," Lily said with clear excitement after letting go of Teddy.
"I thought so too. But we got back early from the mission, and I think Ron pulled a few strings..." Teddy waved to someone behind James’s back.
James turned and saw Uncle Ron towering over his wife and several of their school friends, who were chatting over drinks. Aunt Hermione, her hair as bushy as ever, was talking with excessive enthusiasm; they were undoubtedly discussing the overturning of the outdated law that prohibited werewolves from receiving treatment at St Mungo’s Hospital.
Ron waved a large hand at James and called out, "Like your present?"
“You’re the best, Uncle Ron!” James waved back with a wide smile.
"What kind of mission did they send you on?" he asked Teddy, while the latter helped himself to a large slice of birthday cake. He was still wearing his official scarlet Auror robes, but had left the front buttons open, revealing the simple T-shirt he wore underneath.
"Top secret," he replied with a wink, licking icing from his thumb.
"Give me a break," James said slyly. "You’re a new Auror, they don't send you lot on the really dangerous missions."
“Nice try," Teddy said with a smile, clearly seeing through James's ploy. "I really can’t say. But I promise you it wasn't anything exciting. Just routine surveillance."
James was about to keep prying when a radiant figure in a summer dress appeared and stole the show. Victoire was wearing a sea-green dress, her long silvery-blonde hair loose over her pearl-pale shoulders. She was nearly as tall as James, even without heels.
"Hello," she said to Teddy sweetly.
"Hello, my fair lady," he replied smoothly, forgetting all about his cake, and James saw the spark in his eyes as he looked at her. He offered her his arm. "Will you accompany me for a short stroll?"
She took his arm without question and they walked away. Teddy gave James a wink before turning his back. Everyone knew about the romance between the two, though they avoided public displays of affection around the family—it always triggered an embarrassing wave of whistling and cheering.
James knew it was selfish of him to want Teddy to prefer his company over Vicky’s—if he had had a relationship with a girl he had loved all his life he wouldn’t hesitate before strolling away with her either—but he still felt a certain bitterness as his godbrother walked away.
But he didn't let it bother him too much. It was his seventeenth birthday, after all, and tomorrow he would return for his final year at Hogwarts. There were too many things to be excited about to feel bitter.
He found his cousins Fred and Roxanne near the refreshment table, arguing about what was the correct way to make their father’s famous Blast-Ended Skrewt cocktail. Though they were Weasleys beyond a shadow of a doubt, the twins looked very much like their mother, with dark skin and hair. The only detail they had inherited from their father, who ran a very successful joke shop in Diagon Alley, were the twinkling blue eyes and an endless love for excitement.
"Don't just stand there pretending you don't have an opinion on the matter," Fred said to him.
"But I really don't," James said, glancing toward his mother, who looked very bored by her conversation with Aunt Fleur. "I only turned seventeen today. Until today, I hadn't even thought of touching an alcoholic drink. Honestly, Fred—I’d expect you to know that."
"I can't believe you're still afraid of your mum," Roxanne said as she poured her version of the famous cocktail into three glasses. "You're seventeen, a wizard of age, and this time next year you'll likely be on your way to the Auror Academy, provided you don't muck up your NEWTs. You'll face things far scarier than Aunt Ginny."
"I beg to differ, my dear cousin," James said smoothly, picking up the drink Fred handed him. "You clearly don't know my mum if you think Aurors face scarier things. How do you think my dad became Head of the Office?"
"To James Sirius Potter," Fred called formally, raising his glass. "Chaser, troublemaker, and ladies' man!"
The three of them drank and gagged. The drink was called Blast-Ended Skrewt cocktail for a reason. James coughed and let out a wild hoot that made several people nearby look at him as if he’d lost his mind.
The three cousins laughed. A movement caught James's eye and he saw his father standing by the back door, beckoning him over with a serious look.
"Managed to get into trouble already?" Roxanne said with exaggerated impression. "You really are gifted."
James set the glass aside and walked toward his father, skillfully donning an innocent expression and trying to suppress a smile that was beginning to creep onto his face under the influence of the alcohol.
But it soon became clear that his father didn't want to scold him at all, only to introduce him to the guests he was talking to by the door. He knew them already, but not personally. Only from newspaper photos.
One was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic and a friend of his father. He wore tailored grey robes that didn't suit the warm evening weather at all, and he smiled at James warmly and congratulated him as they shook hands. James had met him a few times before—he had always thought the single hoop earring he wore, like Uncle Bill, was rather cool.
The second guest was a smiling woman about James’s father’s age, who wore slightly masculine formal clothes and had her brown hair pulled back in a bun. His father introduced her as Susan Bones, the Deputy Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, who went to Hogwarts with him. She greeted James and noted with wonder, as most people did, the striking resemblance between him and his father.
James wasn't moved by it. As he grew, the resemblance between him and his father became more and more obvious. His father, of course, was much older, with tufts of silver in his black mane, though he was only forty, and lines of concentration crossed his forehead. Additionally, unlike James, he wore glasses and his eyes were green, while James’s were brown. He also had a much slighter build. James was already beginning to overtake him in height.
The third guest James knew well, though the guest did not know him. He looked at James with very serious, dark eyes set into a broad, hawk-like face, and did not smile as he shook his hand..
"James, this is Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian liaison to the Ministry of Magic," James’s father said.
James was tempted to reply, "I know," but said nothing. Everyone knew Krum was considered the best Seeker in the world before he retired a few years earlier in favour of politics. He was a role model for every Quidditch player who wanted to excel, so James knew his reputation well. But he hadn't imagined that in reality he was so stooped and surly-looking, or that his father knew him personally.
Uncle Percy suddenly popped up, as he tended to do miraculously whenever a Ministry official was nearby. He shook hands with all three and immediately struck up a conversation with Ms. Bones about the Ministry’s recent activities.
"I'd be happy to discuss this at another time, Percy," she dismissed him politely. "We came to speak with Harry."
"Has something happened?" James's father asked seriously.
"No trouble," Ms. Bones reassured him. "It’s something else. Is there a place where we can talk?"
James's father directed them toward the house, undoubtedly to his study, with a clear but polite reluctance.
This didn't bother James. His father had been Head of the Auror Office for many years, so he was used to him having to work at odd times. But as he turned back toward the party, he noticed his mother watching the group go and sighing with a mixture of frustration and weariness.
"Was that Krum?" Ron asked as James passed him.
"Yeah. Cool, isn't it?" he said.
"Brilliant!" said Hugo, who was sharing a bowl of crisps with his father. "Does Uncle Harry know him? Dad, maybe he'll show us some moves—?"
"No," Uncle Ron said with a strange flinch, looking as though he’d stepped in something foul. "He will not be showing us any moves."
"What have you got against Krum?" James wondered.
"Krum?" Aunt Hermione appeared, looking at her husband searchingly.
"He's here," James answered. "Went to talk to Dad along with Shacklebolt."
"Really?" Aunt Hermione looked curious and troubled. Uncle Ron’s ears turned red for some reason.
"He used to adore him," Hermione explained to James and Hugo casually. "But he hasn't liked him since I went to the Yule Ball with him—"
"You kept writing to him for years after that!" Uncle Ron cried in his defence.
"Krum was at Hogwarts when you went?" James asked curiously.
"He came for the Triwizard Tournament, when we were in fourth year," Hermione explained, looking a bit sombre.
James was about to ask what the Triwizard Tournament was, when a shout erupted from the house. Everyone in the garden looked up toward the open window of the second-floor study.
"Absolutely not!" James was shocked to find he barely recognised his father’s voice. He sounded full of rage—and fear. "Have you completely lost your mind?! I won't allow you to—"
More hushed voices followed, presumably trying to calm the agitated Harry. James's mother set aside her bottle of Butterbeer and marched toward the house, muttering to herself, "What on earth are they shouting about?..."
Hermione looked at Ron. Ron looked back at her. For a moment he just stared, and then his eyes widened.
"Excuse us," Hermione murmured to James, and husband and wife hurried inside as well.
The evening ended shortly after. James, despite having drunk quite a bit, felt he could have carried on celebrating for several more hours. But instead, he was forced to make use of his new ability to perform magic outside of school to help his mother with the cleaning.
His father hadn't left the study since he went there to speak with the officials, staying long after they had apologised to the hostess for the commotion and departed. Only after the last guest had left did he come down and begin helping with the cleaning in a strange silence. His wife watched him with concern.
By the time they finished cleaning, it was late at night. James, who had barely begun to pack for school, was making his way to his room when his father caught him on the stairs.
"Let’s talk. In my study," he said. James didn't dare reveal he hadn't packed yet, so he followed him without protest.
James’s father’s study was the only room in the Potter household that was off limits to the children. James had always loved bending the rules, but the knowledge that he was strictly forbidden from snooping in his father's study had been ingrained in him since before he could remember.
The only time he had ever dared to enter without permission was before his first year, under the influence of Fred and Roxanne, who had heard from their father that Harry kept an enchanted map of Hogwarts that showed all the secret passages and the movements of the castle’s inhabitants. He had successfully stolen it, but his father noticed the item was missing almost immediately. Only after some heavy persuasion from Uncle Goorge did James’s father allow them to keep the map, but that didn't mean he hadn't been severely punished for stealing it.
The study was practically a fortress in magical terms. Runes commissioned from professionals, concealment and protection charms, and even jinxes were cast around the room, making it impenetrable for anyone who wasn't supposed to approach. James and his siblings didn't need to ask why; their father surely kept very secret Ministry documents in there.
But there was always someone who managed to bypass even Harry Potter’s strictest prohibitions. That was none other than James’s fourteen-year-old brother, Albus. When James and Harry entered they found him standing by one of the bookcases, browsing through a book by the light of the desk lamp. He closed the book casually and smiled at them. No one was supposed to enter the room without permission, but he acted as if he didn't know that rule existed.
"I borrowed 'The Wandmaker’s Handbook' again. I'm just returning it." He smoothly placed the book back on the shelf.
"I need to speak with James. Can we have some privacy?"
"Sure," Albus said casually. His father ruffled his hair affectionately as he passed him on the way out.
Albus closed the study door behind him, and James was left alone with his father. They sat in the armchairs facing the fireplace in silence, and James suspected and feared his father was about to give him some embarrassing "coming of age" talk.
To avoid this, he asked, "I didn't know you knew Krum. That's cool."
"Yes," said his father, but he didn't look like he felt that way at all. Sometimes he tended to sink into sombre and serious moods, but usually, he made an effort to shake them off before speaking with his children. But this time was different—he wore a grave expression that made him look very old.
"What did they say that made you so angry?" James asked.
"I’d tell you, but there's no point. You'll find out tomorrow anyway," his father replied, looking somewhat weary.
He removed his glasses, rubbed his face, and put them back. Then he smiled.
"In any case, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re seventeen today, and I want to give you a special present.”
He approached a mysterious chest locked with seven locks that had stood in the corner of the room for as long as anyone could remember.
“I’ve waited a long time for this day," he admitted, almost excitedly, as he opened the locks.
James craned his neck, but still couldn't see how his father opened all seven locks so quickly. When he straightened up and turned, he was holding... a waterfall of silver water?
No, it couldn't possibly be water. It was too solid to be water. Only when James's father spread it out did James realise it was a cloak. But not just any cloak; its texture was as smooth as water, and within it moved peaceful swirls of deep colours—dark green, purple, crimson, and indigo—that never stilled, so that from a distance they looked like colourless grey waves. James had never seen anything like it.
"Do you know what this is?" his father asked him, almost mischievously.
James leaned forward and touched the fabric. It was cool and smooth like glass, yet soft at the same time, exactly as he expected it would be.
"It’s... a cloak..."
"But not just any cloak. This is an Invisibility Cloak. A family heirloom"
James stared at his father. "Are you serious?"
His father wrapped the cloak around him and pulled the hood over his head. When James looked down at his hands, he found himself looking at the carpet. His body had vanished without a trace.
"No, I mean—are you serious about giving this to me?"
His father chuckled and sat down, allowing James to inspect his total disappearance.
"I am perfectly aware of all the trouble you could cause with this cloak. At first, I thought of giving it to you only when you finished school, but then I realised you were mature enough to handle the responsibility of owning such an item. You’re an adult now, James, a wizard in every sense, and I'm sure you'll act accordingly. Besides..." He turned serious. "I wish that I had two more Invisibility Cloaks to give to your brother and sister as well, but I think that right now, you will need it more than them."
"Why?" James asked, his father's seriousness making him uneasy.
His father smiled, a very sad smile.
"I can attest that it saved my life more times than I can count. And if I know you—and I certainly know you, James—you will need that protection this year."
"But why?" James removed the cloak to give his father a searching look.
"I’d hate to spoil it for you. You'll find out tomorrow."
His father stood up, shook his hand, and then hugged him. James couldn't remember the last time he had let his father hug him. He was shocked to find out how much he had overtaken him in height.
"Happy birthday, James. Know that I’m proud of you."