Chapter One: The Watcher

James Potter had been standing at the window for twenty-three minutes.

He knew this because Lily had told him so.

Twice.

“You’re doing it again.”

James did not turn around.

The grounds beyond Potter Manor were still grey with the last remnants of dawn. Mist lay low across the grass, gathering thickly around the old stone wall that marked the eastern edge of the property. Beyond it stood a sparse line of trees, and beyond those, hidden by distance and morning fog, the road leading towards the village.

Nothing moved.

A robin landed on the stone wall.

James watched it for several seconds.

“James.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And yet, remarkably, you're still standing there.”

“I’m looking out of the window.”

“You’ve been looking out of that window every morning for a week.”

“It's a very nice window.”

Behind him, Lily sighed.

James smiled faintly.

He still did not turn around.

The robin flew away.

For a moment, James thought he saw something move between two trees.

His hand tightened around the wand concealed in the sleeve of his dressing gown.

Nothing.

“Did you see that?”

“No.”

“You weren’t looking.”

“I have made a conscious decision not to encourage you.”

James finally glanced over his shoulder.

His wife was sitting against the headboard with a book open across her knees. Her red hair was tied back carelessly, and she was wearing the expression that had terrified generations of Hogwarts students during her years as Head Girl and continued to terrify several fully grown members of the Order of the Phoenix.

James had never found it particularly effective.

Mostly.

“There is someone out there,” he said.

Lily turned a page.

“You've said.”

“Someone is watching the house.”

“You've also said that.”

“The western boundary charm flickered on Tuesday.”

“A fox.”

“It was not a fox.”

“The wards identified it as a fox.”

“Perhaps it was a particularly sophisticated Death Eater.”

That earned him a glance.

James nodded seriously. “Animagus fox. Very dangerous. Probably French.”

Lily looked back at her book.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yes, but I am an observant idiot.”

“That remains under investigation.”

James turned back towards the window.

The smile disappeared from his face.

The grounds were empty.

They had been empty every time he had checked.

That was the problem.

James Potter had survived one war and was preparing, apparently, for another. He had been hunted, ambushed, cursed, betrayed and once forced to spend four hours hiding inside a Muggle rubbish bin while two Death Eaters searched the street.

He knew the difference between fear and instinct.

Fear made a man see things that weren't there.

Instinct told him when something was.

Someone was watching his family.

He was certain of it.

And the wards disagreed.

That bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

The wards around Potter Manor were old. Not ancient in the grandiose way people described Hogwarts or certain Ministry chambers, but old enough that no living Potter knew precisely when all of them had been created.

Generations had added to them.

James had strengthened them during the first war.

Lily had torn half of his additions apart and rebuilt them properly.

Sirius had contributed several modifications that Lily still referred to as irresponsible.

Remus had quietly corrected those modifications.

Albus had added protections after—

James stopped that thought before it finished.

After.

There were some words that a person learned to walk around, even after twenty-seven years.

The wards could detect hostile intent. They could identify magical signatures, track forced entry, recognize concealment charms and, according to Sirius, make an intruder's trousers disappear.

Lily had removed that last feature.

Probably.

And yet for eight days James had felt someone watching the house.

Not continuously.

That would have been easier.

Instead, it happened in fragments.

A sensation while walking through the orchard.

A movement in the woods.

A figure—perhaps—standing beside the road when James had returned from an Order meeting three nights ago.

Yesterday afternoon, he had been outside with Rose when he had felt it again.

That had been the moment amusement had turned into concern.

James had been sitting on the grass while his youngest daughter solemnly attempted to feed a daisy to a garden gnome.

The gnome had been less than enthusiastic.

Rose had been deeply offended.

James had laughed.

And then, suddenly, he had known.

Someone was watching them.

Not the house.

Not the grounds.

Them.

James had stood immediately, Rose in his arms and his wand in his hand.

The feeling had vanished.

The wards had reported nothing.

No hostile magic.

No intrusion.

No threat.

Nothing.

“Dad!”

James closed his eyes.

There were some threats no ward could stop.

The bedroom door opened violently.

“Dad, Violet took my Transfiguration essay!”

“I did not!”

A second voice came from the corridor.

“You did!”

“I moved it!”

“You hid it!”

“I moved it somewhere you couldn't find it.”

“That is the definition of hiding something!”

James looked at Lily.

Lily turned another page.

“Your daughters,” she said.

“Interesting how they're always my daughters when something goes wrong.”

“They inherited your hair. The evidence is conclusive.”

Iris Potter marched into the room.

At thirteen, she had already mastered the ability to enter a room as though she had been summoned to arrest everyone inside it. Her dark hair fell in a wild mess around her shoulders, and her green eyes were narrowed.

Violet appeared behind her.

The twins were identical enough to confuse strangers and different enough that James had never understood how anyone managed it.

At that moment, the easiest method was the expression.

Iris looked murderous.

Violet looked delighted.

“She stole my essay.”

“I improved its security.”

“You put it on top of the grandfather clock.”

“You found it.”

“Because Mum summoned it!”

“Then clearly you need to practise Summoning Charms.”

“We haven't learned Summoning Charms!”

“Exactly. Educational.”

James pressed his lips together.

Iris noticed.

“Don't laugh.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

“You are laughing.”

“Internally.”

“That still counts.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

James looked at Lily. “Is that true?”

“Absolutely.”

“Terrible. No freedom left in this country.”

Violet wandered towards the window.

James watched her absently.

Then his attention sharpened.

She had stopped.

“What?” he asked.

Violet frowned at the grounds.

“Nothing.”

James was beside her in two steps.

“What did you see?”

She looked up at him.

“Dad?”

“Outside. Did you see someone?”

The room became quieter.

Iris's anger disappeared.

Lily lowered her book.

Violet looked back through the glass.

“No.”

“Think.”

“James,” Lily said softly.

He ignored her.

“Violet, did you see movement? Near the trees?”

“No, I just—”

She hesitated.

James crouched beside her.

“What?”

“I thought someone was standing near the wall.”

Every muscle in James's body became still.

“Where?”

Violet pointed.

James followed her finger.

The eastern boundary.

Near the trees.

Exactly where he had been looking.

There was nobody there.

“When?” he asked.

“Just now.”

“What did they look like?”

“I don't know. I wasn't really looking.”

“Man or woman?”

“James.”

“I think a man,” Violet said, now uncertain. “Maybe. It was just for a second.”

“Tall?”

“I don't know.”

“Were they inside the wall?”

“I don't know.”

“Did you see—”

“James.”

Lily's voice was sharper this time.

He stopped.

Violet was staring at him now, her confusion turning into concern.

James forced himself to smile.

“It's all right, love.”

“Is someone outside?”

“No.”

“You just said—”

“I thought I saw someone earlier. Probably nothing.”

Violet frowned.

She had inherited that from Lily.

James found it deeply unfair.

“You don't think it's nothing.”

“I frequently think things that are wrong.”

“That's true,” Iris offered.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Lily climbed out of bed.

“Girls, go and make sure your trunks are actually packed.”

“They are,” Iris said.

“Properly packed.”

Silence.

“Not packed using magic to force everything into one compartment.”

More silence.

Violet looked at Iris.

Iris looked at Violet.

Then both left.

Quickly.

Lily waited until the door closed.

“James.”

“She saw him.”

“She saw something.”

“Exactly where I've been telling you.”

“I know.”

That stopped him.

James turned.

Lily was no longer amused.

“You believe me.”

“I believed that you believed it.”

“Lily.”

“And yesterday I felt something.”

James stared at her.

“You didn't tell me.”

“You had Rose outside before I could decide whether I had actually felt anything. I wasn't going to frighten you over an instinct.”

“You should have told me.”

“Yes.”

“You should have—”

“I said yes, James.”

He stopped.

Lily crossed the room and stood beside the window.

Together, they looked towards the eastern wall.

Nothing.

“Did the wards react yesterday?” James asked.

“No.”

“Anything unusual?”

“No.”

“Did you check the secondary lattice?”

“Yes.”

“The blood wards?”

“Yes.”

“The perimeter anchors?”

“James.”

“Right.”

They stood in silence.

From somewhere downstairs came a crash.

Neither moved.

A few seconds later, they heard one of the twins shout that everything was fine.

James and Lily looked at each other.

“Everything is never fine when they say that,” James said.

“No.”

“Should we check?”

“Later.”

“Good.”

Lily's gaze returned to the trees.

“Have you told Sirius?”

James coughed.

Lily slowly turned her head.

“James.”

“I may have mentioned it.”

“When?”

“Tuesday.”

“Today is Saturday.”

“Yes.”

“You told Sirius four days ago that someone might be watching our house, and somehow he hasn't appeared here with seventeen illegal detection devices?”

“He had an assignment.”

“Remus?”

James found the ceiling interesting.

“James Fleamont Potter.”

“I hate when you use the whole thing.”

“Did you tell Remus?”

“He may be looking into it.”

Lily closed her eyes.

“Both of them?”

“Technically Sirius told Remus.”

“Of course he did.”

“I specifically told him not to.”

“Which, after thirty-seven years of knowing Sirius Black, you should understand is how one ensures he does something immediately.”

“That is unfair.”

“It is accurate.”

James was preparing a defence when a small voice came from the doorway.

“Daddy?”

They both turned.

Rose stood there in yellow pyjamas, holding a stuffed black dog by one leg.

Her red hair was tangled around her face.

James's expression changed immediately.

“Good morning, monster.”

“I not monster.”

“No?”

“No.”

“My mistake.”

She lifted both arms.

James picked her up.

Rose rested her head against his shoulder and looked sleepily towards Lily.

“Mummy.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Mummy, Vi say bad word.”

James looked interested.

“Did she?”

Lily pointed at him.

“No.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“You were about to.”

“You can't punish me for hypothetical parenting.”

“I can and will.”

Rose lifted her head.

“Daddy.”

“Yes?”

“Man gone.”

The room went silent.

James felt Lily stiffen beside him.

He looked at his daughter.

“What man, Rosie?”

She pointed towards the window.

James did not move.

“Outside man.”

Lily crouched in front of her.

“What man, sweetheart?”

Rose rubbed one eye.

“Man there.”

“When?”

Rose pointed again.

“Before.”

“Today?”

The three-year-old considered this complicated question.

Then she nodded.

James walked to the window with Rose still in his arms.

“Can you show Daddy where?”

A tiny finger pointed towards the eastern wall. Not near it. Not approximately towards it. At one particular section. The same section Violet had indicated. James felt something cold settle in his stomach.

“What was the man doing?”

“Looking.”

“At what?”

Rose looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

“Me.”

Lily and James exchanged a glance.

James put Rose down.

“Stay with Mummy.”

“James.”

“I'm checking the boundary.”

“Not alone.”

“I'm not planning to duel him before breakfast.”

“That is precisely the kind of sentence you say before duelling someone before breakfast.”

“Once.”

“Three times.”

“The Bulgaria incident shouldn't count.”

“It counts twice.”

James was already pulling clothes from the wardrobe. Lily crossed to the fireplace.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Sirius.”

“Absolutely not.”

She looked at him.

James sighed.

“Fine. But tell him to come quietly.”

Lily threw Floo powder into the fireplace.

“Sirius Black!”

James winced.

“Very subtle.”

The fire turned green.

Several seconds passed before Sirius Black's head appeared in the flames. His hair was untidy, his eyes were barely open, and he looked deeply offended by consciousness.

“If this is about James's imaginary assassin,” he said, “tell him I don't start work before coffee.”

“Violet saw him.”

Sirius's eyes opened.

“Where?”

“The eastern boundary.”

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

Sirius disappeared.

Lily stared at the empty flames.

James buttoned his shirt.

“He's coming here, isn't he?”

A loud crack sounded from downstairs.

James nodded.

“Subtle.”

They found nothing.

James, Sirius and Lily searched the eastern boundary for two hours.

Remus arrived halfway through, looking considerably more civilized than Sirius and carrying a leather case filled with detection instruments. The wards showed no disturbance. The boundary stones were intact. No footprints marked the damp earth beyond the wall. No magical residue. No concealment charms. No Portkey traces. No sign of Apparition. Nothing.

Sirius stood with his hands in the pockets of his long coat, staring at the trees.

“I don't like it.”

James glanced at him.

“That's helpful.”

“I try.”

Remus was kneeling beside one of the boundary stones.

“Lily?”

“Yes?”

“When did you last recalibrate the intent matrix?”

“Three months ago.”

“Any irregularities?”

“None.”

“Could someone be observing the house without hostile intent?”

Sirius snorted.

“Someone has been hiding in the woods watching Prongs's children for a week.”

“I understand that.”

“Sounds hostile.”

“Suspicious,” Remus corrected. “Not necessarily hostile in the magical sense.”

James folded his arms.

“You think the wards are being literal.”

“Old magic usually is.”

Lily frowned.

“If someone intends to harm us, the wards react.”

“Yes.”

“If someone intends to gather information that will later be used to harm us?”

“They should react.”

“Should?”

Remus stood.

“Magic involving intent is complicated.”

Sirius smiled.

“That's Moony for ‘I don't know.’”

“I don't know.”

“See?”

James looked towards the woods. There was nothing there. Still, the feeling remained. Not as strongly as before. But enough. Someone had stood there. His daughters had seen him. Rose had said the man had been watching her. James's jaw tightened.

“When does Dumbledore return?” he asked.

“Tomorrow night,” Remus said.

“From where?”

“No idea.”

“Helpful.”

“He has been investigating the disturbance.”

James turned.

“The one from last week?”

Remus nodded. Eight nights ago, magical instruments across Britain had registered something no one could explain. Not an explosion. Not an attack. Not even a spell, according to the Unspeakables who had quietly examined the readings.

Something had happened. For eleven seconds, every magical monitoring device from the Ministry to Hogwarts had behaved incorrectly. Clocks had moved backwards. Detection instruments had produced impossible readings. The Floo Network had shut itself down. Three prophecy spheres in the Department of Mysteries had reportedly cracked. Then everything had returned to normal. The Ministry had called it an equipment malfunction.

The Order did not believe them. Particularly because, three days later, Severus Snape had sent a message. The Dark Lord had become unusually interested in reports of unidentified magical phenomena. Voldemort was looking for something. No one knew what. James looked again at the empty trees.

“Eight days,” he said.

Remus glanced at him.

“What?”

“The disturbance happened eight days ago.”

“Yes.”

“I first noticed someone watching the house eight days ago.”

Sirius's expression changed.

Lily went very still.

Remus looked towards the boundary. For several moments, nobody spoke. Then Sirius drew his wand.

“Well,” he said quietly, “that's probably not a coincidence.”

“No,” James said as he stared beyond the wall. Somewhere past those trees, somewhere beyond the reach of his wards, there was a stranger.

A stranger who had arrived—or appeared—at the same time as a magical event that had shaken instruments across Britain. A stranger Voldemort might already be searching for. A stranger who watched James's daughters. And, somehow, Potter magic did not consider him an enemy. James did not know which part of that frightened him most.

Far beyond the eastern wall, hidden behind the trees and down an old country road, smoke rose steadily from the chimney of a cottage that had stood empty for nearly four years. No one at Potter Manor noticed it. Not yet.