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Chapter Text

Minerva was concentrating on keeping her respiration slow and calm. As an educator, she had learned that it was of imperial necessity to keep her emotions in check. Especially in dealing with matters of such challenge. Especially in dealing with her most brilliant, yet rule-breaking students. Especially dealing with a Potter.

Such Potter was far from being an ordinary child. Not only because of the ordeals that marked his early years, but because of his parents. Her former students. She knew that was wrong, and always berated herself for doing it, but she had developed a special preference for James and Lily. Her Head Students, pride of their House, and prime examples of courage and kindness.

Nevertheless, it was wrong to go beyond the professional care of her actual and former students. Developing any further feelings would taint and command her actions...

For instance, if Severus kept marching into this office and uttering such stupid affirmations, she might find herself obligated to find the sharpest object in Albus’ office and throw it at his bloody nose.

"He is a menace! A few days in school, the Potter boy and his friends disrespect the school rules and threaten the safety of all!"

"Now, now, Severus," interrupted Filius. "The Potter boy was not responsible for the appearance of the troll. He was rather brave and a valuable presence in this altercation. He and the littlest Weasley saved their colleague."

That’s right. Filius was as insightful and gave accurate inputs.

Following his lead, Pomona, also a fantastic colleague, added:

"Indeed, Potter and Weasley showed courage beyond their years. They should be recognized!"

"This is outrageous! How Potter keeps getting privileged with his impulsive and spoiled actions..."

Albus looked at her and raised his eyebrows, prompting her to speak. It made sense, after all, that Severus had demanded this reunion after the rushed events of last night to discuss the privileged treatment given to certain students of certain houses...

It was unprecedented. Never in their professional relationship had he dared to accuse her of such. Despite his prejudice against her house, which she frequently confronted behind closed doors — the students should never suspect the conflicts between their teachers! — he always showed respect and a certain tolerance to her.

Alas, that was not important. It was not about her, or the points given yesterday, or the exception to allow a first year on the Quidditch team getting him so riled up. It was a vendetta. A stupid and juvenile vendetta. And she must end this soon; it was nearly lunchtime, for Merlin’s sake.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley defeated a troll last night while defending another student. The majority of us recognize this, right?" Her gaze rounded on her colleagues from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, then to the Headmaster, receiving nods, before facing again her youngest colleague. "Awarding points is a standard procedure in these situations. Or do you wish to discuss any further actions on my part?"

That’s it. Let’s see if he has the courage to repeat the accusations he shouted to Albus after Potter’s admission to Gryffindor’s team.

He sputtered, but before being able to compose an answer, a loud hurricane stormed through the office.

"A TROLL? YOU LET MY SON FACE A TROLL?!"

Oh, Lily Potter was always a force of nature. Especially combined with her husband.

"You promised, Dumbledore, you promised our son would be safe in this school!" hissed an aggravated James.

"As your son's safety should be above everyone else, Potter. You are always disregarding everyone else!" shouted Snape.

Despite being initially bewildered by Lily’s arrival, he perked at the sight of James. Severus would never get past his jealousy...

"Don’t you fucking dare, Snape! You, better than anyone, know how my son’s security has been compromised since his birth. You certainly contributed to it," spat James.

Snape was about to reply when Lily touched James and spoke:

"James, my love, please don’t respond to the provocation of certain individuals." The redhead sent a disdainful look to Snape that made him cower, and then turned to the Headmaster with a stony look. "Despite the choice of certain staff members complicating our ability to trust in the safety of Hogwarts, this event is truly concerning, Professor Dumbledore. How do you explain it?!"

Albus remained calm, even with a special twinkle in his eyes.

Snape became suddenly entranced by his shoes, as their other colleagues controlled their breaths, like enthusiastic listeners of a soap opera on the wireless. Minerva suspected that Filius and Pomona had reached some sort of telepathic deal to go unnoticed so they would be able to appreciate the show.

Meanwhile, Albus had not spoken yet, and she was preparing to respond in his place to avoid an explosion from the Potters. As she was about to open her mouth, another student erupted through the room like a jumping dog smelling a tasty picnic in the park.

"Sorry, sorry, I am late. ‘Traffic’ was a bitch," Sirius Black said, rolling his eyes at James. "But I am here, finaaaaally!" He then reached for Lily’s hand and swiftly kissed it.

However dramatic the interruption was, Minerva had to recognize that it softened the Potters. Lily rolled her eyes but sagged against James, showing signs of calming down. James became softer, more confident as his brother-in-arms had his back. As he always had.

But, not to be detained, Black continued with the theatrics:

"Minnie, how lovely you are to my sore eyes!" he said, bowing his head to her. Turning to her colleagues: "It is also great to reencounter other fine professors of this brilliant school, even if accompanied by some... parasites." He waved to Snape before finally turning to... "Headmaster, care to explain what happened last night with my beloved godson?"

Now, Minerva was sure: the twinkle in Albus’ eye was there. Nevertheless, his voice was calm and collected, not betraying his façade and posture.

"I am sorry that the moment to reconnect with former students is marked with such preoccupations, but I must assure you that Mister Potter's safety is well preserved."

"Potter’s safety!" scoffed Snape, awakening from his stupor (how unfortunate!). "As there are no more pressing matters and this invasion is certainly..."

Albus raised his hand to stop him. While showing himself frustrated with this action, Minerva thought Snape should appreciate it. In the moments he chose to speak, James and Sirius balled their fists, and Lily, always more conscientious of the three, wrapped her hand around her wand.

(In the darkest and most secret places of her mind, Minerva tried to guess which hex Lily would throw at Snape... She had a few suggestions.)

"However, if we are to proceed with this abrupt visit, perhaps we can free most of my staff since the students might need attendance," continued Albus. "Professor McGonagall may assist me in the retelling, but the professors should continue with their daily functions."

This was not what her colleagues hoped to hear, and their reaction was instant. Filius jumped, Pomona moaned disappointedly, and Snape opened his mouth — dear Merlin, not again!

"Yes, I am sure I can assist you and help you to provide all the necessary information, Headmaster. Unless any of my colleagues has any doubt about my competency as Head of House or my actions in this role?!"

She looked directly at Snape, challenging him to confront her.

Her former students were not oblivious to this interaction and were quick to intervene as well:

"Professor, believe me when I say that your presence is one of the most contributing factors to my son's attendance at school. My husband and I trust you and your integrity." Lily may have been talking to her, but she was directly glaring at Snape again. "Other new additions to staff, in recent years, made us question the value we once attributed to the school."

Ah, always sharp-minded! Lily was quick to sense the previous debates.

"I must add, in the role of Most Dedicated Godfather of Britain, I agree!"

"For fuck’s sake, Padfoot! That is not a thing!"

Of course, Potter and Black started derailing the conversation...

"So, we might proceed?" jumped Minerva, hoping to advance the discussion.

"Yes, please, Professor. We are concerned about this issue," shared James, with a calm tone.

The boy had grown into the role of a father. He met her eyes and showed confidence. But not before adding:

"We trust you."

Hmm. If this was directed just at Snape, or if it also related to Albus, she was unsure.

Albus made a sign to the others to leave the room. All with disappointed faces, trying to prolong the moment — Filius fidgeted, Pomona whispered for a promise to hear more later, and Snape tried to catch Lily's eyes again. But once more, Lily and James leaned on each other, isolating themselves from the world, drawing strength to protect their child.

When only the five remained, Sirius made another move to dissipate the tension:

"So, before we start, is this a situation of buying the kid a new gift or re-teaching him ways of marauding? And is it true he stuck his wand up the troll's nose?!"

Always the dramatic. Others might interpret this as immaturity, but Minerva knew better.

And she was proud. Because she knew that what he approached with lightness and theatrics was, in reality, what was needed: the Potters needed support and help to keep calm and light, even if this was achieved through distraction. And Minerva and Albus needed reassurance that there remained some trust in this school.

Because they were talking about Harry Potter — one of the most endangered children of all time. But also a child who was the most loved, and whom they all wished to protect and keep happy.

There would be many talks during his school years, many questions of the best course of action to protect him... but Minerva knew, with every fiber of her being, that she and his family would protect Harry or die trying.

So they talked. More easily than expected. Because if it was on her watch, Harry Potter and his family — her students — would be safe.

Chapter Text

The chilling air of November was, surprisingly, a gift to calm her nerves. Lily felt she was making an extreme effort not to throw up. She could not ruin her son's first game day; Harry was the priority. Harry was always the priority. How could she bring any distractions from her boy?

It was bad enough the stress she put James on... Her husband was holding her hand tight, guiding her through the Hogwarts gates, his body barely restrained what he was feeling: excitement and pride for his son's game, fear for the outcome, anxiety from...

No, no, she would not go there. She promised to put a hold on her concerns; it was foolish to share them with James. She must focus on her surroundings and the events of the day!

"Hey, YOU — oh Poooootters, wait up!"

The scream came from behind them, and Lily turned to see her brother-in-law in a rather distinct outfit... and running to catch them!

"Merlin, I THOUGHT WE AGREED ON MEETING IN HOGSMEADE! AND YOU," he said, pointing the finger at both of them, "STOOD ME UP!!!"

"Padfoot! Calm down!" sighed James. "We have a lot to think about today—"

Lily tightened the grip on his hand, prompting him to add:

"I mean, it is Harry's first game! We have been thinking about it!"

Sirius looked at him skeptically. Damn it, he was too wise. Then he smelled the air and turned his head sharply at her.

"Why the hell did you change your perfume? You have been wearing the same scent since the 6th year."

Because, besides being too perceptive, he also had a canine scent sense. And she needed to distract him, which, speaking of it, she now had the perfect card to divert the conversation:

"You want to talk about changing appearances and presentation, Black? Care to explain your outfit?"

Rather than his usual black ensemble, Sirius was head-to-toe in Gryffindor Red. A giant top hat with red and gold stripes, a red leather jacket and pants, and the team jersey. Never had he shown so much house pride or such an appealing outfit. After all, Sirius's behavior was sufficient as it was to gather people's attention.

"I have to support my godson, after all, his so-called parents are too busy to try it!"

James rolled his eyes and answered him:

"We both have the team jersey on and the house scarf. And we promised to be discreet, as the Hogwarts games are usually not attended by parents, and just last month we told Snivellus to suck it up and stop calling our son out for some privilege he thinks he has."

"As if I am living my life influenced by Snivellus!"

Well, as unpleasant as it always was to speak of Severus, this theme was sufficient to distract Sirius, and they made their way to the pitch, eventually changing the subject to James' predictions of the game.

How gorgeous her husband was, how excited he could become with this sport, and the fact his son shared his passion. He was such a good dad, such a good husband. He did not deserve to have to lie awake every night in fear for their son, to always be looking over his shoulder and being frustrated because he wanted Harry to live freely and happily as he had lived in his childhood.

When they got married Lily remembered that she thought she wanted to give him all he wanted in the world, that she would do everything she could for him. Lately, she believed she was failing him.

She was lost in these thoughts as they reached the stands and met their former Head of House.

"Good morning. Well, I must say it is rather touching to see your effort in supporting our team, Mister Black," said McGonagall in a slightly raised tone. Lily believed she was also fighting a smile.

Sirius, of course, took it in jest and twirled to their former professor and started to discourse on his godson's talent, who would certainly be a prodigy in every challenge he took.

Lily could not help herself from once more feeling a rush of love for their friend. Sirius would certainly be mad with her, but she thought many times he could be a Hufflepuff, because he was the most loyal person she had met and he was the most dedicated person to her son besides her and James. Sirius would never let Harry down, which is something she was not sure she could...

The professor guided them to the stands, where they were greeted with overwhelming enthusiasm by most of the teachers. Severus was already there and seemed eager to catch her eyes, which she could not bear today.

Her former friend certainly tested her nerves every time their paths crossed, but today she could not bear his presence because of all the damage and pain he caused her family, revealing the prophecy to his wretched master.

There was a time that Lily could forgive him, although their friendship would never return, but after what he did eleven years ago, Lily had to hold herself not to take her wand and finish him.

She could also find James rather tense by the Potions Master, and she sat rather close to him, glued to him. James was her rock, and she was his. And today they needed each other more than ever.

The game suddenly began and Lily became overwhelmed by the sight of her little boy so high in the sky. James was shouting suggestions as if Harry could hear him, Sirius was just as well shouting incentives, and the student commenting on the game was talking about so many other kids — Johnson, Spinnet, Pucey, Bletchey, Weasley...

Lily felt like she was stuck in a bell jar, where the sounds came magnified, and all she could do was look at her darling boy. It was suffocating because he was so far, in a spot so open to danger, and she was stuck, and all she wanted was to reach him and protect him.

As her thoughts had summoned a tragedy, Harry seemed to lose control of his broom and jerked up. Lily screamed, alongside James and Sirius, and was about to pass out when she smelled smoke and saw Harry dive towards the ground, clasping his hand to his mouth as if he was being violently sick the instant he landed.

As Lily started to run to get to the field she heard the announcement that Harry had caught the Snitch — with his mouth!

James, who was right beyond her, whooped and hugged her.

"He is brilliant! Our son, our son, Lil!"

He may not have noticed, but he used the same words as the very first moment they held Harry on the night he was born.

They eventually reached their son, who was astonished by everything that happened. Despite his teammates trying to hold on to him, Harry got free and jumped on his parents. And for the first time in the day, Lily felt she could breathe freely.

Soon they were joined by Sirius, Professor McGonagall, and many people who were discussing the game, and Snape's robes catching fire — what?! — and Lily once again retreated into herself and was only allowed to pay attention to Harry and James.

They shared the same expressions, they both scoffed the same way and had the same crooked smile. Lily always thought that she would love to have more babies with similarities to James.

Eventually, Sirius found a way to convince McGonagall to let them escort the team to the party in the Gryffindor Tower, and the four adults followed the children to the castle.

While James and Sirius formed a conversation with the Weasley twins, exchanging ideas on how to punish the Slytherin team for their lack of fair play — in whispers and sly looks to not be caught by McGonagall — Lily walked with her arm wrapped around Harry, who looked to her worried.

"What is it?" she whispered, sensing her son would be uncomfortable with the attention of others.

Harry looked worried at the other students, and then at his father, before whispering back:

"Do you think Dad will be very disappointed if he finds out I am not as good at Quidditch as he thinks?"

What? Her boy had just played a whole match at eleven!

"What are you talking about, darling? You were amazing!"

"It was an accident, Mum! I did not mean to catch the Snitch with my mouth," he whispered, very close to tears.

"Oh, my boy." She stroked a thumb on his face. "Even so, it was amazing. You are the youngest player of the century! Nevertheless, your father loves you more than everything. You could disdain Quidditch, and he certainly wouldn't mind."

"Oh no, Mum," gasped Harry, forgetting their whispering. "You are the person that Dad loves the most! And he would never accept anyone who didn't like Quidditch."

Lily laughed out loud, drawing James to their side and inquiring about what they were talking about.

As they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Lily fell behind, communicating with James through looks that she just needed a minute for herself. Her husband nodded and took their son, who looked much more relaxed and was joking with his two best friends about something she did not register.

"Well, we can say this was quite an eventful match," sighed McGonagall, startling Lily, who did not realize that the Professor was at her side.

"Yes, it was," replied Lily. "It had been a truly eventful match... and day."

The Professor looked at her quite intensely but with a reassuring and comforting face.

"You rather seem out of sorts today, Lily. I hope everything is okay."

At that moment, Lily needed to share once again with someone what was worrying her. She regretted passing on that weight to James, even though he deserved to know, but she felt that McGonagall could certainly have the answer she needed. She was her teacher, her mentor, and Lily truly held the most respect.

"I am pregnant. I took the test this morning."

McGonagall gasped and had her eyes filled with tears. She reached into Lily's hands and said:

"This is such wonderful news, my dear. You must be so happy!"

"Should I? My son has been threatened by a madman since he was born. Shouldn't I focus all my attention on him?!"

"Oh, Lily..."

"And James?!" interrupted Lily. "Could I do this to him? Make him once again pass through an unplanned pregnancy when we cannot assure the safety of a child."

A tear fell from Lily's eye, who was struggling to keep calm. "And he wanted to be a father to this child so much. But I had to remind him that we cannot do this to Harry. We cannot compromise his safety by being distracted."

"Compromise Harry? Being distracted?" McGonagall looked at her with a soft expression and smile. "The hormones must already be affecting you, dear. Don't you see the opportunity you have here? Your family can grow, Lily, and you can give your son a life companion. Someone to give him extra strength to pass on his trials. After all, it was love that saved him ten years ago, was it not? How could you not give him that chance?"

Her teacher spoke with such clarity that Lily felt like a student who had missed most of a class and was just now catching up.

"But what if we cannot protect them? What if we lose Harry or the new baby? How could we live with the loss?"

"And how could you live with the knowledge that you did not fight for your family? All your family? Don't get me wrong, many women do not want children, and they have their rights, but I know that you want this baby. Because it is half you and James, and that means the baby also has a lot of Harry. And you have fought so hard, wishing for the opportunity to be a normal family. The circumstances might not be favorable, but you can build something great."

Lily became entranced with her professor's words and kept repeating them until she was saying goodbye to Sirius in Hogsmeade, after letting her son commemorate with his colleagues in the castle.

"So you still have the energy for a date today, Pads?" asked James, smirking. "You dooog!"

"Jeez, Prongs, don't be a bore. Just because you have a lovely ball and are chained at home, it does not mean we all want the same. It is just a shag!"

"Thank you for the compliment, Pads," said Lily.

"Lily Flower, you know what I meant. Don't be dramatic. Nooo—" he raised a finger to James, who gasped and was ready to come to her defense, "she is not defenseless. She is rather capable of fighting for herself, and today she has been out of sorts. I was trying to shake her up."

"How generous you are, Pads. Thanks, but my wife is fine, and you wish you could find a woman a tenth what she is."

Sirius rolled his eyes, kissed her cheek while giving her praised affirmations, stuck his finger to James, and apparated, leaving her and her husband alone in the street.

"He is such a wanker," sighed James. He turned to her and asked her with concern: "Are you tired? Do you want to go home?"

"No," Lily shook her head and said tentatively, "I thought we could go to Diagon Alley? I would like to buy some books for Harry..."

"C'mon Lils, you cannot deal with our son's talent and Quidditch and you are planning to lure him out with books and turn him into a swot?" chuckled James.

"No, I was thinking we could buy him some books about being an older brother. I think it could help when we tell him at Christmas."

James looked at her with tears in his eyes.

"And we could also buy some paint, right? To convert the study to a nursery. We should also give a fresh coat of paint to the cr—" she was cut off by James' lips.

When they separated, James immediately hugged and kissed her hair.

"We can do whatever you want, Lily. We can do everything for our kids."

Chapter Text

Somedays, James missed his dad more than words could explain.

Even though, he was sure Fleamont would tell him that he was receiving back some of the worries he dared to impose on his parents… But he was sure his father would know what to do. He saw a lot of his mother in Lily, all that maternal force that could become rage when it came to protecting her child, the genius brilliance of always knowing how to answer with care, or with wit when necessary. He, otherwise, felt incompetent. Because, as much as he tried, he couldn’t keep Fleamont’s calm demeanor and assertive pose of protector.

He failed Harry so much already. He failed to choose the person who could protect them when he asked that damn rat to help them… He failed when he was warned by Regulus and did not believe him at first. He failed him when he did not have his wand with him when Voldemort showed up…

It seemed that his son was only alive with the help of others. Even now, Harry had fought that bastard with the help of two other eleven-year-olds… Not with his help.

When Fleamont was alive he was always James’ beacon of protection, however crazy the adventure was. His father had made him the potion to become Animagus and made him and Sirius study and plan all the ways to help Remus and protect themselves. Fleamont knew he could not stop James (as James knew he cannot stop Harry), but he made sure his sons were safe. James was failing to do that with Harry…

"Dad?"

His thoughts were interrupted by his son, who showed up in the kitchen, dressed in his pajamas adorned with snitches, and a worried face.

"Everything alright, Harry?" James could feel his heart quickening. Had he any injury unattended bothering him, or had Lily felt uncomfortable upstairs…

"Are you mad with me?" whispered Harry. "I am sorry, but we had to stop him from getting the stone, and…"

"Oh, Harry," interrupted James. How could he keep failing his son again and make him feel bad?! He got up and hugged him.

"I am not mad with you," he told his son while holding him. "I am mad with myself."

He stepped back, while still holding Harry, and met his son's eyes.

"You see, Harry, you and your friends should not have to pass through that. Much more alone… I should have been there."

"But how could you, Dad? I only sent an owl right before we went. And you saved me, you were the one to get me."

It was true. When James arrived at Hogwarts, and he went to find his son and his friends, he only arrived when Harry was unconscious. He had not let anyone else hold his son, and took him in his arms to the infirmary, having a terrible deja-vu of that night ten years ago.

"Harry, I only showed up after he hurt you! You should have felt comfortable asking me for help as soon as you started investigating this mess with Ron and Hermione," explained James with the calmest tone he could adopt. "You should have left this to me. My job is to protect you!"

"But Mom, and baby…" spluttered Harry. "They also need you! And… And… I am capable of… I should be. He wants me, Dad. He wants to hurt me, no one else should be hurt."

James held him with force and shook him while shouting:

"Don’t ever say that again! Don’t you dare, Harry! Don’t you…"

"James!" shouted Lily, who arrived at the kitchen holding her massive bump. "Calm down, please."

"Calm down? Calm down?! Did you hear him, Lil?" He let go of Harry and stepped back. He saw his son was scared. "Shit… I…"

He closed his eyes and turned to the table, needing to hold something.

He could hear Harry, now sniffling in his mother's arms, and he felt utter shit. What could he do? He needed his Dad, he needed Fleamont to tell him what to do, how to be a parent… How could he be a Dad when he still needed his so much?

He suddenly remembered the first time his parents met Harry, shortly before they died. His mother quickly swept Harry in her arms and was praising Lily, sitting near her bed, when Fleamont joined him in the corner of the room watching the two women and the baby, and whispered to him:

"How are you, son?"

Looking into his father's eyes, James felt like a bubble that was growing inside him finally burst and allowed him to speak:

"I am shitting myself, Dad," he whispered back with a shocked chuckle. "He is amazing, Lily is amazing and… I love them. I do! But, what if I… What if I fail? Two fucking minutes. Two fucking minutes and he would be born and August and he would be free, he… The prophecy, that shitting jibber Dumbledore was talking about last week. There are people of the Order outside, Dad. They think Voldemort will try to hurt him. My son, Harry, and… How can I protect him?"

He looked at his dad, who despite looking old and frail, held his gaze and told him:

"You are his dad. You love him. Be there for him; watch him, teach him, don’t let him be swallowed by fear… We cannot control the world, James. But we can fight. And we can fight for those we love, but that is not enough… We fathers have to teach our children to fight for what is worth. You will want to protect him from everything, but someday, challenges will come, and you cannot lock Harry away and fight for him. You must empower him and trust him. If he feels you trust him, he will trust you back and ask for help when needed."

His father gave him a watery smile.

"We can only love what is free, that goes for fathers as for sons. Don’t hold Harry when he starts fighting; have his back, because there may not be any other way if that monster is not stopped. You may work to defeat Voldemort, and I hope you do. But if the prophecy is right, there may not be any other way than Harry facing him; and you cannot let him be alone and unprepared."

That day was one of the few times that James hadn’t felt reassured by his father; he nearly burst out of the room, but Sirius had shown up and started joking around… Lily had noticed James was not alright when everyone laughed but James and Fleamont, and James joined her in bed when the others left. She and James held each other and made a list of all the things they wanted to show Harry… James desperately tried to forget his father's words at the same time.

But now, it seemed that his dad had told him that knowing he would be needing them now. James still did not know if he could do it… imagining his son fighting Voldemort was ripping him apart. But he could not hold Harry now. Voldemort was trying to come back, and Merlin help them, if he succeeds… Harry could not be left defenseless.

James turned to his wife and son and gently approached them. He knelt to be eye-level with Harry — damn, the kid was so small still — and told him gently:

"I am not mad at you, Harry. I just wanted to protect you."

His son looked like he was about to interrupt him, so James quickly followed up:

"It is not because I think you are incapable, it is because I love you. And all I want is for you to be happy… But if we cannot get rid of Voldemort alone, we will do it together. Don’t try to do it on your own. We are the Potters; we are a family, and we face everything together. And you can only protect me, Mom, and your baby sibling if you let us help and we deal with everything together, ok?"

Harry slowly nodded, but then quickly jumped in his arms. James held his son in one arm and reached Lily with the other. The four of them, together.

It was the only way. He could only hope he could be half to them as his father had been to him.

Chapter Text

The sun was blazing, and Minerva felt tired. Many people thought the time of school break was like heaven to teachers, but she knew that she could not relax during the break. Many things must be done to prepare for the next year, to accommodate the new students, to organize her House, the lessons, and the extracurricular activities and their schedule. Of course, she had to do this to herself and to supervise her colleagues, since Albus was very busy with other tasks...

But, alas, today she took a break. Because today was an extraordinary day, and she was on her way to a crucial meeting. She was meeting someone for the first time, and she felt hope like she had not felt in many years. When she told Pomona this, her friend jumped to the conclusion that she was going on a sort of romantic date. What a ridiculous notion! Minerva had far more important things on her plate, and time for that had passed in her life... Now, her hope was tied to her students. Past, current, and future students.

And she was here. She knocked twice on the door before a tired, yet overjoyed, James Potter opened it.

"Minnie, you are here!" Potter took no time to reach her and overstepped the former dynamic of teacher-student, as he hugged and then dragged her, with an arm on her shoulders, to the living room. "We were just talking about your visit. Haz, Lil, Minnie is here!"

On any other day, she would pretend she was uncomfortable with this shower of affection, but again, today was a special day, and she allowed herself a break. When Lily showed up in front of her, she reached and hugged her dear student.

"How are you feeling, my dear? I hope you are recuperating well."

"Yes," laughed Lily. "My army of sweet men are not letting me do almost anything! I almost have to fight them to get to her. Come meet her, come," she told Minerva, while grabbing her and turning her to the middle of the room.

There, in the middle of the floor, sleeping in her blanket and holding her brother's finger, lay the one person Minerva came to meet.

"Isn't she the cutest babe you ever saw, Professor?" whispered nearly twelve-year-old Harry Potter, who could not focus on Minerva long, because he was so enthralled with his little sister.

Minerva kneeled near the boy and whispered back:

"She is just as lovely as you were, Mister Potter."

"They look alike, right? The same hair and lips, although I think her nose is just like Lily's," whispered James, who had a smile ear to ear, and looked just as euphoric as when he won the Seventh Year Cup. "Though, it will be funny to see how the Potter hair nest will work on a girl. I was a little disappointed she did not have red hair, but she is gorgeous anyway, isn't she?"

Lily laughed from the couch and added:

"I never thought that I would compete for James' attention, but in the last few days, Mia has taken all the compliments. From both my boys."

The Potter boys quickly looked up, worried, and made their excuses:

"Mum, Mia is tiny, and we have to look after her with attention!"

"Lily, my beloved, you know you are the most beautiful of flowers, and now you have the achievement of generating another flower as beautiful as you!"

They spoke simultaneously, getting laughs from the women. Minerva felt her heart full. The Potters were prevailing, no matter what destiny or what that bastard threw at them. They regaled her with tales of the birth and the first experiences of being a family of four, and she felt lighter. The last time she saw them, at the end of the school term, she became very worried about how they were dealing with the recent events. Now they were happily delirious with the baby.

After a while, they were joined by Sirius, who let himself into the house as little Mia woke with hunger from a nap. James and Harry did not notice his arrival as they were discussing the shade of Mia's eyes, who would likely share her eye color with her brother and mother. Minerva watched Sirius observe — with relief? Sadness? What an odd expression he showed… as Lily calmed down the boys and told them it was time to feed the baby.

"Do you have a bottle? I can feed her," said Sirius calmly, turning all the Potters to look at him. How odd.

Harry leaped from the floor and went to hug his godfather while his parents looked at their friend with sympathetic eyes. How odd, indeed.

"That would be lovely, Pads. But we don't have a bottle. I will feed her," answered Lily, gently.

"You can help me burp her, Uncle Siri."

"Hey, I was going to burp her…" interrupted James, but he changed his mind as he looked up at his friend. "That would be great, Pads! It would be really helpful."

Sirius seemed to bite off some response while rolling his eyes. He probably noticed how everyone was treating him cautiously.

"Hey, guys, let's give some space to Lily and let her feed Mia. We can go prepare the tea and biscuits in the kitchen for Minnie," suggested James. "Sorry, Minnie, we are bonkers being hosts. We did not offer you anything until now."

Until James mentioned her, she felt Sirius was avoiding looking at her, but then he spoke:

"Good afternoon, Minnie. How are you?"

She cleared her throat, unsure how to answer. Since him being eleven, Minerva had not seen him act so subdued. She remembered the frightened little boy who greeted her shyly for the first time and then sat under the weight of the Sorting Hat while crossing his fingers behind his back...

"I am fine, thank you, Sirius. I hope you are ok."

He nodded but did not look at her.

Harry quickly jumped to his godfather's aid, and together with his father, they took him to the kitchen. Lily smiled dimly and, while latching the baby at her breast, explained in a low voice:

"It is visiting day on Azkaban today."

"Oh," gasped Minerva. "Did he..?"

"Yes, he goes every visit day. Without a miss. He always comes back feeling down, but usually, Harry can lift his spirits in a few hours," sighed Lily. "And then he starts pretending again… He is being and acting all overboard to hide what he feels."

"I suppose it is still hard. Even after all these years," answered Minerva. She could not hold her musing. "I wonder if going has any benefit for any of them."

"Sirius will not be demoted. And we feel bad. After all, he was the one who saved us these years ago. Telling Sirius not to visit him would be such an ungrateful attitude."

"I understand," answered Minerva. "It is a difficult situation. Sirius holds the situation with a terrible effort." She gave a dry chuckle and added, "With a lot of dramatics, too. But he is outstanding while prevailing."

"He does it for Harry. For me and James, too," answered Lily, while attempting to dry a few tears that left her eyes with the arm that was not holding her daughter. "Sorry, damn hormones! I am so emotional... I just really wish we could help him more."

"You do a lot. You are not responsible for this situation, and Sirius was already in a tough spot. But your family, his true family, gave him the purpose he needed. He passed all his trials and held his wits to protect Harry. To protect his friends. And now" — Minerva paused and gazed adoringly at the baby between them — "you gave him a new reason to keep on."

Lily smiled, and Minerva felt some relief, feeling able to calm her.

And when the boys came back, and she watched Sirius holding little Mia, she prayed to herself. Please, God, let them keep on, no matter what.

As if hearing her, Sirius lifted his eyes and, with a total shit-eating grin, told her:

"Now you are in trouble, Minnie. I think I found a girl I love even more than you. Our unrealized love and passion were overpowered by my adoration for this girl. I don't think even we two could do such an adorable baby."

The others laughed and gasped at his audacity. What a cheek! She schooled her face to pass a stern reproach. They would play their roles. Keep on, he would throw sass, and she would discipline as his teacher; they would play this scene to the Potters. She would not shush him and hug him because he was not her son and she could not let him know she saw through his facade... But she would play along with him. This she could do for now.

This is all they could do for now.

Chapter Text

An elf. A fucking elf. Where did the blasted creature come from?

Sirius could remember the tremor in his godson's voice when he told him:

"An elf named Dobby… he was so scared, Uncle Padfoot. He did not want me to go to Hogwarts because of a plot. I don't know. He was so mental, it seemed hard to believe, but he was really scared."

The blasted creature appeared in the backyard at night, while Harry sneaked unnoticed to fly… The damn kid was just like his father, crazy about Quidditch. And on the slimmest of opportunities, danger followed the kid.

Sirius had promised not to tell Prongs about it. What a fucking nightmare! He hated to keep secrets from his brother, but he and Lily had so much on their plates, just with general worry for their firstborn and baby Mia.

No, this had to be Sirius's task. And he knew who he should ask for help.

The path to the prison was narrow and wet, with a strong stench of rotted fish. The gloomy grey sky looked upon the poor souls who went on a visit; Sirius knew by memory now the faces, which were the same every time, as was their contempt for seeing him. The rogue Black, the blood traitor, an ungrateful son and heir. Fuck them! As he could not start punching through the big prejudiced swots, Sirius held his fists in the pockets of his leather jacket and kept his head raised high, looking only to the front. He might have to hold his tongue to teach them a lesson, but he would never, never again let the bigots belittle him.

Finally, in the dark room, sitting at a round table with uncomfortable benches, he waited until he and the other prisoners came to the room.

Arriving with his hands and feet chained, as always, his brother sat in front of him. Only nodding; sometimes that was the only thing they did. Sirius never knew what to say or how to say it. Sometimes he traced the new scars, the traces of starvation, and just started raging and demanding to speak with the Aurors in charge until his brother finally spoke and asked him to calm down. Other times, he gave Regulus some letters and postcards from Andromeda, or Lily, who was still grateful. There was not much more than that. But today it had to be different.

Sirius cleared his throat, which prompted Regulus to look up and wait for him to speak.

"An elf named Dobby came to Harry. He spoke of a plot to happen this year at Hogwarts. Said that he works for an evil family that exploits dark magic. Do you know anything about it?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow; the gesture might have produced other effects a few years ago, perhaps a show of arrogance, but it was impossible to read arrogance on such a broken face. The effect now of this was only to accentuate how fucking destroyed he was.

"You, better than anybody, should know how dark families keep using their elves to do their dirty antics, brother," rasped Regulus. "It fails me to understand what you are specifically asking."

"I want to know if you know of any plot that could affect my godson and if you know this elf, Dobby, and who he works for," whispered Sirius furiously.

"Plots are easily made, reformulated, abandoned, and enacted… And, when it is related to the Potter boy, I would say many spend their time working on it," said Regulus, while his hollow eyes rounded the room until he fixed Sirius again. "But I do not know of any plot made before I was arrested that could be on the current works. Nor do I know any elf named Dobby, but again, what attention did we give to the elves that served other families? Some wizards don't even acknowledge their elves."

Alright, that subject again. Not the fucking time, Regulus, thought Sirius.

"Should I be worried?" spat Sirius. "I mean, what kind of elf endangers himself to help a child against his masters, or might that be part of the ruse?"

Regulus gave a shallow chuckle and answered:

"You are always determined to see the evil in elves? That would be prejudice, brother."

"Oh, spare me your jokes, Regulus."

"I am sorry, as you may see, I don't have many opportunities to stand on a moral high ground," Regulus seemed to be enjoying some twisted joke, glancing around the room before sobering up and looking again at Sirius. "You should always be worried. You know that some of the Death Eaters are free. Some of them might even have access to dangerous tools. Tools that could be used to bring the Dark Lord back… They won't hold for long, Sirius. Each year that passes, Harry Potter grows and becomes a stronger threat. The only threat that could defeat him."

"Are you talking about the… you know, those blasted things Voldemort created to keep him alive? Who can have access to that?" pressed Sirius.

"They were many of the Death Eaters who were dumber than bells. Only muscle strength or, frankly, just shields in a fight, and gold coin purses. But only a few of us were truly trusted… but we had to swear secrecy," Regulus gave him a yellow smile. "You see, we Death Eaters do not trust or particularly care for many others. After all, our main goal was to protect him and love him above all."

Now, Regulus seemed positively green. "Whoever it is, they will fight you for death."

"Good," chuckled Sirius. "I am feeling a certain fatal rage. And I am why anxious to get it out. Any suggestions for targets?"

"Besides Bella, who is being watched for every breath she takes, only two people come to mind… Lucius and Snape. And, as I knew, the last did not have an elf… Whereas, the Malfoys had an army of elves to support the luxurious lifestyle they liked to flaunt…"

"Should I visit our darling cousin?"

"No. You know that you cannot get anything from her unless you only want an opportunity to draw blood. And, even with all of our family history, would you be able to look yourself in the mirror if you hurt her? Or Andromeda?" asked Regulus, looking him straight in the eyes. A rarity.

Sirius huffed and turned his head to the ceiling. Again, what a fucking nightmare.

"Don't waste time, brother. Hold your strength and use it wisely. And choose your allies; don't hold on to prejudices. You should know how to get intel on elves…"

"Oh, fucking Merlin… don't even say it!"

"It is the only way. If you…"

The sound charm rang, and they knew that their time was up.

Regulus sighed and told him:

"Get on with it, Sirius."

"Alright, alright… it is infuriating," thought Sirius… He stopped short when the Auror came to open the door and signed for him to get out.

He looked once more at his brother and said:

"Goodbye, Regulus."

"Goodbye, Sirius. Please, give my regards to Kreacher. And be kind."

Again… What a Fucking Nightmare!

Chapter Text

If James was completely honest, the second after separating Molly from his brother, his thought was: “The bastard deserved it.”

"Jesus Christ, a man tries to help, and he is attacked," whined Sirius, sitting with a hand over his black eye.

"You kidnapped her daughter and helped my son lie to me," thought James. "I think you got it light."

"Her daughter is possessed, Prongs. Malfoy targeted the girl. We need to help her."

"And you think that her parents don’t want it too? But they should be warned previously, not after you took their kid and brought her to this wretched place," said James, pointing to the dark walls. The screeches from the portrait could be heard, as well as the screams of little Ginny.

James paced in front of Sirius, clearly mad, until he broke the silence.

"Come on, finish it. Say what you have to say. How you are mad with me…"

"Of course I am fucking mad! You hid information from me about my son. You lied and omitted information when I sought you out because of that Slytherin Heir shit, you broke my trust, Sirius!" yelled James.

Sirius sighed but maintained an unapologetic face, like he was saying he did what he had to do. James was about to tell him to fuck himself when Kreacher appeared.

"The little bloodtraitor is already screaming her lungs off. May I suggest the master use a silencing charm?"

"I swear to fucking Merlin, I will cut your head off your body if you keep using that language, Kreacher," gritted Sirius.

James could no longer take their spats, so he intervened:

"How is she, Kreacher? Is Andromeda making any progress?"

"Miss Andromeda is divided. She needs to control the girl, but if she makes her unconscious, she won’t know if the girl is still under possession. And the girl’s mother keeps interrupting. They told Kreacher to leave because with the two women and the mud… muggleborn who married Miss Andromeda, the room is full."

"What about Arthur?" wondered James.

"The man left to the street."

Fuck. James and Sirius bolted to the door without looking at each other, exactly at the same time.

Finding Arthur was easy, catching him right before the apparition spot.

"Arthur, stop!" yelled James, turning him and holding his arm.

"Let me go, Potter," seethed Arthur. "He hurt my little girl. He must pay." The man was shaking and holding back tears.

"Of course he has, but the bastard is slimy. You cannot get him now," said Sirius.

Arthur shook his head violently.

"You don’t understand. I have to…"

"Get thrown into prison or get killed?!" continued Sirius. "Meanwhile, your child keeps hurting?"

"Shut up, Sirius," said James, without turning to look at him. He kept staring at Arthur. "You’re right, he does not understand. He doesn’t know how it kills a part of you as they hurt your child. You would take the pain and fear gladly if your kid got to be okay… I get it, Arthur. I get it. But this won’t help her. Not now."

"It is my fault," cried the redheaded man, "and I can’t help her, but I can make sure he suffers it. That he suffers it too!"

"But that won’t erase what she feels, and you will also be giving her the chance to have the support of her father. Will you do it? Will you take that from her? Don’t you think she’s already lost too much?"

The man crumbled while crying, which impelled Sirius and James to support him and drag him back to the house. What a fucking world—this kind of suffering… how had this become their lives? How did a bunch of bigots with narrow minds become such a violent force that ripped apart a society and their families, their children included, and this became an expected experience? Dragging a father who wanted to avenge his daughter, because Lucius Malfoy was protected by his scum and by law, but a decent man like Arthur Weasley—or his children—were not.

In that moment, James also felt the surge to get his wand and start a killing spree, but this was not a first-time experience, and he knew he could only give support to his family and those in need if he kept a straight head and played the long game. Because, one day, no matter how, he would get them, and destroy everything that they built, every mechanism of oppression, every stupid rule implanted, tear every criminal of power position… he could do it, could he not? He was a Potter, not that he valued his bloodline over any other, but he had a privileged position that could give him a head start…

For the first time in his life, James thought he may have been failing his family because he only focused on the smaller picture. Had he been wrong to step away from the Wizengamot and the Ministry? Could—or should—he start the change within? Had he relented power to others that he should have taken?!

Back at Grimmauld, they gave Arthur a draught. They were also not hearing Ginny’s screaming. Neither sounds from the adults, so he hoped everything was getting better.

James was staring at the fireplace, lost in thought, when Sirius approached him.

"Arthur is out. Sleeping with his head on the kitchen table. I may use Kreacher to take him to one of the rooms to rest properly. If we must deal with that monster, I may as well put him to use." He watched James, not responding, and noticed something had happened. "Prongs, what is in your mind? I can see you wrecking your brain out, and while I think you may want to kill me, I think you would waste your energy on a plot and just do it," he joked.

James sighed and turned to look at him with a straight face. He tried to speak, but his mind was reeling, and he felt like he was drowning in these new thoughts. Sirius seemed to understand and waited until he could speak.

"I had to demote Arthur from doing something that I had wished for many years. I knew exactly what he felt, but it was clear as day how wrong it would be… how it would be a mistake, not enough to change anything or end his family suffering. And that led me to think how we had to play this and change it…" He stopped, dragging his breath, before letting it out to test his last idea. Merlin, could he be right? Have I been wrong? Have I been sitting on my hands and moaning about everything, and lost the option to fight them?

He met his brother's eyes, and Sirius kept staring openly but made no move to speak, so James continued:

"I must do more, take them, hold their power. And the way to do this is to strike them where it hurts them more—their power, their control… Arthur could not face Malfoy because the whole fucking Ministry would stand behind a Sacred Family… The Malfoys, the Bulstrodes, the Lestranges, the Rosiers are holding every structure of power in our world, and we let them. We let them take everything and hold us prisoners! We need to break their façade, to start attacking more cleverly, take each of their resistance, and diminish their power to destroy it!"

"We may not like who we become, Prongs, well… in my case, actually… no, but ok," said Sirius. No major gestures or voice fluctuation. Like this was not an outraging idea.

"What the hell, Padfoot? How can you be so calm?"

"I was born on this shit. The power games… the corruption," Sirius gave a dark laugh and looked around the room. He met James’s stare again. "You grew with Monty and Mia, who were sharp as a wit and knew this game very well, but they also tried to shield you from it. Meanwhile, I was… I am a Black, and that made me always understand that you’re either a pawn, ready to be exploited by those who hold power, or you become yourself a player. The thing is, do you understand who is holding you and playing you at every step?"

James held his breath; all his life he thought he was independent and valued his strength to pursue his free will. He lived by whom he loved, by what he believed, and his values… how could he also be played?

"What do you mean?" he rasped.

"Who suggested you hide? Who keeps assuring you that the Wizengamot is within control, even with all the Death Eaters? Who got you to enroll your child with that wanker who hates you? And who do you think is letting these Slytherin Heir rumours spread to get close to your child and assume the big protector role?!" said Sirius without hesitation. These thoughts had crossed his mind hundreds of times.

"You think…"

"Even with little Ginny…" interrupted his brother. "Do you understand how he will use it? One of the most rightful and largest families of Britain affected by this will now gain the will to fight the Darkside and will join a war they had been trying to hide. The Order will be at its peak again… Dumbledore may as well take the Weasleys’ sons and Arthur’s knowledge within the Ministry to start plotting missions. The battles are starting again."

"Dumbledore fights for the light! He wants to end the war the same way we do!"

"No, he wants the same result as we do, not the same way! He sees us as pieces of chess, always did. He might have the best intentions at heart, but he does not stop to look at any means or to protect those on his side. Why do you think he let Death Eaters study and attack on Hogwarts grounds? Why did he take eighteen-year-olds and train them to fight in the dark, as a secret order?! Who did he let die, and while their killers became richer and more powerful in a fucking parliament he controls?! He is after Voldemort, but he will use anyone to get him, without looking at the costs. And you know who is his most precious piece—Harry."

"I promise you, James, I will protect him. Do as I say, and the Order will stand and protect your whole family," said Dumbledore, "but Voldemort still came to his door and attacked his son. If Regulus Black hadn’t come, James would be dead…"

"Hogwarts is the best place for him. He will get all the tools to fight for himself. But his son has been bullied so far, faced numerous monsters, and is still in constant danger…"

"Fuck!" screamed James, hurling the nearest lamp at the wall. What the fuck had he done?!

Andromeda and Ted, who rounded the corner and came to the living room at that time, shrieked and recoiled.

"James!" screamed Andromeda, in all fairness, in a tone that resembled McGonagall. "Are you out of your mind? The Weasleys are under a lot of stress, so we cannot aggravate them! Keep it under control or leave." She repeated the same instruction she had given when he arrived and found out that Sirius had kidnapped Ginny from Hogwarts.

"He will be fine, Andy," intervened Sirius. "Today… it is a day of realizations."

"Whatever it is, it is time, Sirius. The girl is strong and is fighting the Horcrux, but we need to destroy it to sever the link. There is only one way, and we need to get Dumbledore and ask…"

"No!" shouted James. "Not Dumbledore! What do you need?"

"Well, I see your realizations are leading you near my cousin's ideas, James," sighed Andromeda. "But we need something from Hogwarts, something rather complicated to get…"

"And it needs to be quick," intervened Ted for the first time. He stood in the corner wringing his hands. "If we want to save Ginny Weasley from danger, we can’t keep that thing near her; neither can we risk it being taken by someone else…"

James looked at Sirius, who had his head looking down.

"Sirius?"

Sirius looked up. No, he looked at him and gave a hollow and small smile. With his black eye and that smile, James thought he saw a broken man who decided he had nothing to lose.

"We can go to Dumbledore… or we could call Remus and see if he is okay with breaking the law and invading a school in the quiet of night…"

Ted and Andromeda protested, but neither of the present Marauders paid attention. A choice—that was what his brother was giving him. And support. Now he had to choose if he would fight for himself and his family or keep relenting power… The choice was obvious, was it not?

"Call Remus. I will call Lily and tell her not to worry, but not to wait up."

Chapter Text

Lily felt her head was going to explode. So many things had happened in the last few days… and she did not know how to process them all. But she knew, for certain, that some emotion akin to anger was boiling under her skin—and it was directed at her husband, which she hated. She and James were supposed to be a team.

He avoided meeting her eyes, focusing on their son as he recounted the tale. Truth be told, she should have been focusing on that story, but she was too disturbed to listen. She was analyzing James.

“…and then he said, ‘Let us hope that the Potters will always be around to save the day.’ Dad just told them that he could count on it. You should have seen his face, Mum! Mum?” Harry asked, seeing that his mother was so serious and not responding.

“That was an adventure, darling,” she finally responded, making an effort to look gentle.

“And then, with Dobby…”

“Harry, darling. I need to speak with your Dad alone. Could you please check on Mia? She is with the Weasleys, upstairs.”

Her son hesitated, probably sensing that something was amiss with his parents. He did not like it. He was a very sweet boy. Lily could see how conflicted he felt about leaving them, so she added:

“Please make sure your uncles aren’t trying to give her sweets. You know how Uncle Remus loves to try to corrupt you when we’re not looking. Poor Molly is quite busy controlling them.”

“Okay, Mum,” said Harry gingerly, but he did not get up from his seat until he looked at his father and received an approving nod.

As soon as Harry left the room, James looked at her. He seemed serious, but not abashed or embarrassed—which was seriously infuriating. He had left her behind to tend to their youngest child, speaking in vague words, and had not dignified himself to tell her about the invasion of Hogwarts, their son’s danger, or the possessed little girl. He looked resolute, confident—like being wrong was impossible, and keeping her in the dark was the right choice. What a nerve!

“How could you? You went to Hogwarts, invaded the school, rescued our son from a beast, confronted Malfoy, put your life and Harry’s life in danger, and the only thing you told me beforehand was that you’d be late and I should take Mia here using a fucking Patronus? You couldn’t bear to look me in the face and explain the danger our family was in, that you and Sirius had taken a little girl from school, and she was possessed?”

“I didn’t take her, Lily. I only found out after Sirius called me. The Weasleys were already here—it was a circus. But I knew Henry was in danger, that danger was at his school, so I left with Sirius and Remus. I had no idea Harry was already in the chamber. But thanks to Merlin, I was there when we confronted the Basilisk. The sword just showed up, and I used it… but it was a close call, Lily. Our son is alright, as is our daughter, because you kept her safe.”

“Don’t try to fool me, James!” spat Lily. “You kept me in the dark. We promised we’d never do that to each other. We would always fight together. We should always fight together.”

“Someone needs to be safe, Lily, to keep our children safe.”

“You absolute wanker! And that should be me, because I’m a woman? Is that what you’re saying? Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?”

“No, of course not! But I also need to know you’re safe, and truth be told… I should be the one paying the price. I think I screwed up, Lil,” said James, sitting down. “You were right. We should have left England. I trusted the wrong person, and letting Harry leave for Hogwarts was a mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“Being there makes him an easier target… or gives others easier access to train him as a soldier. As a martyr.”

He looked straight into her eyes, and she felt chills all over her body.

“What? What are you saying, James?”

“The strongest wizard of his generation… and Dumbledore cannot control the school. Trolls, shady teachers who are secret Death Eaters? And now this Chamber mess… He was already a teacher at Hogwarts when Myrtle was murdered. How could we not connect the dots, like Sirius did? Maybe it was the perfect test for Harry… to confront another piece of Voldemort. See how he would deal with it?”

“And do not forget how useful it would be for him to join the Weasleys in his cause,” interrupted Sirius, entering the room followed by Arthur Weasley—two experienced, well-connected wizards, as well as seven young, strong wizards: new soldiers to his cause.

Arthur paled, and Lily noticed his hands started to shake.

“No… that is too… it’s impossible! Dumbledore is an honourable man and my children…”

“They are very powerful! A fully qualified Curser Breaker and top of his class, so I hear. A Dragon Tamer, recruited to the world’s largest reserve; two twins with an aptitude for spellwork and inventions; a capable politician… and, of course, the best strategist Hogwarts has ever seen, Harry Potter’s best friend, and probably the best witch to step on those grounds—capable of fighting a dark magic possession for months at eleven years old. Your daughter is breathing and responsive upstairs, probably making her one of the strongest of her generation and an active interest for either side of this war. Sides who will look at her as an asset, a means to exploit,” said Sirius, his calm tone carrying the weight of a coming storm.

“No, no, no!” sputtered Arthur. “They cannot… those are my children!”

Lily could not control her tears a second later. As the first tear fell, James got up and took her in his arms. With a heavy sigh, he turned to speak to Arthur.

“We know, Arthur. And trust us, we wish this were not the truth. We may be the most capable people in the world to relate to you,” James said, sighing again, holding Lily more strongly before letting her go and stepping in front of Arthur. “We are the parents, not the generals. Usually, there is no place for us in wars; we are bound to watch, watch our children being made soldiers. Because the other side… we need to defeat them, yes! But what we are proposing is to take this war into our hands. We will fight from the back. For once, we will move the pieces and make sure our kids are out of the front line.”

As he spoke, Lily saw movement by the door. A weary Molly Weasley stood there, accompanied by Remus. She looked straight at Lily as James spoke. It made sense: James related to Arthur as a father, and Molly expected Lily to relate to her. Lily had not fully understood everything that was happening—James had left her out. But Sirius nodded at her, and Remus looked at her seriously, aware of the plan. She was angry, but as James stopped talking and looked at her with a pleading expression, she knew she could trust him with her life… and her children’s lives.

She looked at Molly, who refrained from touching Arthur. The couple exchanged a painful glance, and Lily nodded: Trust us, Molly.

“But are you saying Dumbledore planned this? He could not have known Malfoy’s actions…”

“We are not saying Dumbledore is a villain, Molly,” interrupted Sirius. “We want his side to win, but his focus is on winning, whereas ours is on protecting who we love. Anyone could see our actions as morally… grey as Dumbledore’s.”

“And to answer your question,” added Remus, “while Dumbledore may not be aware of Malfoy’s actions, the involvement of your daughter will be used to his advantage. Your family is a gold mine in that regard.” He gave a dry chuckle before lifting his head. “Trust me, I know how Dumbledore can cultivate gratitude, protect you, but then use your weaknesses to his gain.”

Of course, thought Lily. She knew how Dumbledore kept Remus away from them and directed him to infiltrate the werewolves—a measure that always bent Remus toward someone he despised.

Molly looked at her husband. “I saw my brothers’ dead bodies, Arthur. I held their lifeless bodies. I will not support doing that to my children.”

The discussion had to continue later. Lily and James left the Weasleys and took a bedroom.

James opened his mouth to speak, but Lily held up her hand.

“Before you tell me everything, and I mean everything, James, you will listen. No more bullshit about one of us needing to keep the kids safe. Each of us is half a soul, remember? That’s what you told me when you proposed. There is no scenario in this world where I would be complete without you. In no scenario would I be able to take care of our children if we didn’t fight together. You owe me that. If you ever leave out something again and run off to make plots with your friends, I swear to God, Potter… I will blow your fucking arse.”

James laughed as he wiped his eyes, still teary.

“But your love, my arse, Evans!”

“Potter,” she corrected him, “and that’s why I would be mad at you.”

He kneeled in front of her. His face softened, and hers followed. They would be alright. No matter what followed.

“What if I tell you things aren’t going to get easier?” he said.

“Well,” she replied, “that just means we must fight harder—and do it together.”

A few hours later, Lily and James went downstairs for supper. Harry played with his sister and Dobby (who, of course, expected to be near her son). Hand in hand with her husband, Lily joined their children at the table, where their uncles were already making funny faces to amuse Mia. Life seemed normal again.

Soon, Ron arrived with his dad and sat beside Harry, as James took hold of Mia. Lily had thought they would be alone for dinner, but Molly guided a crestfallen Ginny to the kitchen. Everyone fell silent. Ginny seemed embarrassed and clung to her mother’s side.

Molly tried to speak cheerfully, thanking Kreacher for cooking. Her gaze faltered when she looked at Lily, reflecting the agony she must be feeling. Lily composed herself and spoke.

“We should play Exploding Snap after dinner,” said Harry suddenly. “I already found a strategy to beat you—mate!” He bumped elbows with Ron. “But I need a partner. Ginny, will you be on my team?”

Ginny looked up at her brother for the first time since entering the room, and Harry maintained his pretence that everything was alright.

“You know, I could ask Padfoot to join me, but he’s a terrible cheat and we’d get caught…”

Sirius, playing along, rose from his chair with a knife clenched in his fist.

“How dare you, godson of mine… Judas stabbing my back, exclaim such lies?!” he shouted, as if performing in a Shakespeare play.

Baby Mia’s laughter at his exuberance caught everyone off guard, and even Ginny laughed for the first time. The tension broke. Remus began recounting a story from a tournament in sixth year, James explained how Sirius had been caught cheating, Ron laughed, and Harry leaned over the table, trying to recruit Ginny to defeat Ron. Arthur shared stories of their children’s competitiveness and creativity during games.

Lily and Molly exchanged smiles throughout dinner. They would protect their kids and hope that, in time, this mess would be alright. Lily felt hope: despite everything, her son had passed a true test, and he remained a sweet boy who would reach those in need and help them.

Chapter Text

Gentle breathing.

That’s what he whispered over and over, as the man on his lap shook.

What a fucking stupid piece of advice. But what could he say? Fuck, he could not wrap his mind around the last few days. He could only follow the plan formed by his brother—Prongs. But was this really what the plan was?

Did he, on some level, want this? A chance to redeem himself… He had left Regulus alone once, maybe twice, but now he had the opportunity to help him. The last time, their captors had been their progenitors (Sirius refused to call them parents, even in his thoughts). Now, he had rescued his baby brother from prison.

James had come up with the plan. Ginny Weasley’s older brother, the Curse Breaker, had been more than happy to assist them with a scheme that could lead to Voldemort’s downfall. Arthur Weasley had helped his son, gathering intelligence from the Ministry. Remus was their main bait—just a werewolf howling on a boat could distract most of the guards. With the wards down, Sirius transforming into Padfoot, sneaking inside, and stealing the keys… it could have been a disaster. It could still be. But he was here, now, with his brother lying and moaning on his lap, while Andromeda worked spells to assess him.

When she finished, she caressed his hair, then looked up at Sirius.

“He’s suffering from starvation, tremors, and… honestly, the list is long, Siri…” Tears shone in her eyes as she lifted her hand from Regulus to hold Sirius’s. “But we can help him now.”

Someone cleared his throat at the door. Prongs.

“Everything alright?” he asked gently.

“It will be, with time,” said Andromeda.

“We need him to be responsive soon, Andy. We need to know everything he knows about Voldemort and how his Death Eaters may be operating now.”

“James, he just came through a big ordeal. After years in that prison! And you want to use him, not think of his health…”

“Yes,” James cut her off. “He was in prison because he was rightfully convicted. Because he was a member of a terrorist group. Because he and his mates tried to murder my child…”

“He didn’t,” interjected Sirius in a low voice, drawing both of their gazes promptly. “He did many wrongs, but he saved Harry. He came to me and insisted, even when I tried to throw him out. He told me about Peter’s betrayal, and we rushed to the cottage to save you three. He didn’t try to murder Harry, Prongs. He made many mistakes, but not that one. James, I know it’s complicated… but he will help us. Give him a little time. He’s too weak now, but I will make sure he stays on the right side, and he will help us.”

“Okay. I trust you, brother,” James said, nodding. He turned to leave, but looked back at Sirius, Andromeda, and the frozen Regulus.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “if that wanker Snape has a chance to redeem himself, I think Regulus has a million more reasons why he deserves it.”

Regulus, frozen and shaking until that moment, suddenly gripped Sirius’s knee, as if he had heard and understood James.

“Yes. Regulus deserves this,” said Sirius, pretending to ignore his brother’s movement. “Now he has his chance. If he helps us protect Harry, all will be forgiven.”

And Sirius meant it.

Now, Regulus had a chance to redeem his wrongdoing as a Death Eater. And Sirius had a chance to redeem himself as a big brother.

Chapter Text

Minnerva was running in circles in her mind. It was bad—she should be focusing on the reunion. Or perhaps it was good, since Severus was seriously testing her restraint.

“…inadmissible. They left in the middle of the year because their parents wanted to spoil and coddle them, and we are supposed to give them acceptable grades.”

“Technically, Miss Weasley left two weeks before the term to recover from a virus. I do hope she is doing better,” Filius said, turning to Minerva. “Do we have any news?”

Before she could answer, Severus barged in again.
“Oh, spare me! She could have stayed in the infirmary, but the Gryffindor group had to be different! Her parents sent Potter and Black to retrieve her, breaking the rules and showing no consideration! Being disrespectful as adults, as they were when they studied here.”

“Are they the only ones like that?” Minerva snapped, unable to hold it in. The room seemed to freeze at her intervention, but she pressed on. “You reveal yourself, Severus. And that is very disappointing in a Hogwarts professor. We are educators to all children, from all four houses, with no distinction. Yet you single out students from my House, especially if you have a history of conflict with their parents. Somehow, you still reveal your prejudices. You have quite a history with discriminating, seeking vengeance, and claiming superiority, don’t you?”

Severus paled. Pomona dropped her cup. Filius sighed in troubled disbelief. Dumbledore, as usual, said nothing, staring at the wall. Minerva turned to him, waiting. Waiting as she had since reporting Ginny Weasley’s disappearance, and being told she had been taken. Waiting since Molly Weasley refused to meet her eyes, and Arthur looked at her as if she had failed. Waiting since Sirius and James hadn’t responded to her letters.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke.
“We must show cohesion among peers and respect the roles we have to play. This discussion is pointless, and I am sure it comes from a place of extreme tiredness on both sides.” He turned to Severus with a calm smile. “I recommend that Miss Weasley be graded as she completed her year. We have sufficient reports for evaluation.”

Minerva slammed her fist on the table. She would not be ignored.
“And how can I be reassured that my student will be evaluated fairly? That is all my students—”

“Minerva, that is enough!” Dumbledore’s voice rose for the first time that morning.

She held her head high. “No. I don’t think it is enough. I also believe I am being denied the full rights and information to protect my students. If my role in this institution is to continue, this must change.”

Pomona gasped, reaching for her shoulder, but Minerva’s gaze remained fixed on Dumbledore. If it were another moment, she might have laughed at his rare incredulous expression, maybe even felt pride in causing it—but not today. Today, she questioned everything she had done and who she could trust.

There had been signs, not just recent events and secrecy. But she had diminished her doubts and deposited her trust in others, thinking it best to protect her students. She was sick of it. She vowed no student would meet war again; no one would be sent unprepared. Now it was time for adults to fight. She was a Gryffindor after all.

Ignoring everyone else, she turned to Severus.
“I am sorry if I failed you. I was also your teacher, Severus. I am deeply sorry, but I will not accept your behavior. I truly wish you a more fulfilling life. Let go of your past.”

She stood and addressed the room.
“If my position is not aligned with the school, I will go to the Board of Governors. I will not abandon my role without cause, but I also will not restrain my opinions or actions regarding the safety of all students at this school.”

She turned and left, ignoring Dumbledore’s shout. She knew the great Albus Dumbledore would not compromise more of his image by following her. It stung a little; she had once considered him a friend and mentor. But now, she felt she did not know him.

“I think you lost your ability to separate yourself and your interests, Minerva. Our students are not our children; they need to be prepared for the real world, and the real world is war,” Dumbledore had said after she recounted the visit to the Weasleys.

She knew it was not a virus that affected poor Ginny; she suspected Voldemort. She would not rest until she knew all of it.

Leaving Hogwarts, she arrived at Godric’s Hollow and knocked on the Potters’ door.

James opened it a crack, wand subtly in hand, ready. His eyes widened at her approach.

“Professor, are you okay? You seem…”

“I may not be a professor for much longer, James. I believe I caused quite a scene, and Dumbledore may be wary of me. But I cannot stand it anymore. I will not send students into war or remain in the dark. Please, James, I know something is going on, and I want to help.”

James closed his eyes, lost in turbulent thought.
“Dumbledore, I don’t…” he began, then tried again, opening his eyes. “I think it’s better to hold some information for now.”

“I agree. Let me in, please.”

“Minerva, you cannot tell—”

“Trust me. I promise.”

A delicate hand pressed the door open fully. Lily appeared, looking at her husband. After a moment, James nodded, then said,
“Come on in, Minerva.”

Chapter Text

He could hear the whispers, feel the loathing glances. It made his skin crawl, but James finally accepted he had to play a game he despised. His grandfather had last done it, though James’s father, in his final days, confessed he regretted not seeking the role. James had scoffed—Fleamont had lived in different times. James was glad his father had devoted himself to his true passions: brewing and family.

James’s life, however, was different. He could delay his work—he did not need the money. His family’s fortune and magical engineering of brooms was more a hobby, a mask of normalcy. What James needed, what he wanted more than anything, was to protect his family. And if achieving that goal required theatrics, falsity, politics… then he would endure it.

The meeting with Fudge was surprisingly straightforward. James followed his script perfectly: feigned rage over Regulus’s escape (ironic, but the Ministry swots would never guess he had orchestrated it), planted doubt about the Wizengamot’s competence, and displayed motivation to participate. Fudge practically wet his pants: a Potter, with legacy and fortune, father of the child who had helped bring down Voldemort? He would want James as a poster boy. James played the part—but his days of being a pawn were over.

Step by step, he would gain influence. Focus on the Ministry, align Minerva with securing Hogwarts… the next steps were already moving.

He paused in front of the elevators, reviewing their plan for potential obstacles. The doors opened, revealing one.

“Potter.” Malfoy sneered as he stepped out. Did this twat think he was scary? Pathetic.

James kept his face stoic but couldn’t resist a jab.
“Lucy, how are you?”

“Lucius. Don’t play smart, Potter.” His eyes flared. “What is a lowlife like you doing in the Ministry?”

James laughed low.
“You’re about to find out, Malfoy. A lowlife like me sees the world differently with Death Eaters on the loose…” He could see the other man’s eyes widen but continued, unshaken. “…Regulus, I mean. I realized I’ve been failing my family’s legacy and thought it was time to reclaim the Potter seat on the Wizengamot.”

“You’ve failed your legacy… your family’s magic is diluted. Are you sure you’re fit for this role?”

James clenched his fist, willing himself not to break the bastard’s face. All in time. Malfoy’s days were numbered.

“That is your weakness, Malfoy. Narrow views. Fragility in the Minister’s eyes. He does not agree with you. And because of that, he offered me one of the open seats. You’re looking for a new member appointed directly by the Minister—the memo has gone out, to members and press alike.”

“Fudge couldn’t—”

“But he could! My family’s legacy and my Order of Merlin medal were enough to secure a seat. And I’m certain we’ll have… fun working together, Malfoy.” James’s cool voice interrupted the man’s fury.

“We’ll see, Potter,” Lucius seethed.

James smirked, turning toward the elevators.
“See you at the next meeting, colleague.”

Later, James sat on the steps outside his home, still processing the day. Meeting Malfoy, the Minister, suppressing his real feelings… it was a miracle he hadn’t broken someone’s nose. He hated being a phony, but he could not let these feelings seep into his family life.

“James?” Lily approached, gripping his shoulder before sitting beside him. “Did it go badly?”

He tried to smile, but it came out more grimace than grin.
“You’re looking at the newest Wizengamot member. It went… as planned.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes locking on his. “I know how you hate these games.”

“No. Don’t apologize, Lils. It’s not your fault. I want to do this—for us.”

He took her hands, kissed them, leaning his forehead against hers.
“All the effort—for us—will be worth it,” he whispered, their secret.

“You don’t regret anything? Not marrying some pure-blood blonde, ready to be a housewife with a thousand elves?” she teased, staying close.

“Never.” He laughed. “You are my world, Lil. You and the kids—you gave them to me. I used to fantasize about all I could do for you—”

Her cheeks reddened, ready to interrupt, but he continued.
“You have a dirty mind, Evans. I meant making you laugh, giving you gifts, helping when you were exhausted with essays… and, of course, the other big thing.” He laughed, then grew serious. “But you—you gave me more than I ever dreamed. This family, this life… I’d do anything for each of you.”

She cupped his face, searching his eyes.
“You are the love of my life, James. You give me strength. I couldn’t bear you losing yourself to fight for us. Promise me—we fight together. Hold ourselves. Don’t hide your struggles from me.”

James kissed her, pouring his love into it. He hated seeing her cry, hated that he caused it, but knew she was his anchor.

He stepped back, stroked her face gently.
“Yes, Lily. Always together. Fighting side by side. I won’t hide anything from you. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Remus had missed Hogwarts.

Even now, standing within its ancient stone walls, he could feel the castle breathing around him—alive with echoes of centuries past, yet welcoming him as if he had never truly left. After his first attack, this had been the one place he had felt whole. Here, he had found his brothers, his family. Being a Marauder had given him purpose, a sense of identity no ordinary friendships could ever match. But it had also brought some of his deepest pains.

When betrayal shattered them, Remus’s thoughts had turned dark, shameful even in memory. He had blamed himself—blamed his cursed condition for being unreliable, for being a distraction. Peter’s treachery had been unspeakable, yet he could not shake the conviction that he too had failed James and Lily, that he had not been there when their shadows grew darkest. James, who had saved his life countless times. James, to whom he owed everything. The thought that he had failed him when it mattered most still sat like iron in his chest.

And then there was Peter. The same man who had saved him, the same man who had later destroyed them all. In those cruel days after the truth came out, Remus’s mind had leapt to self-recrimination: had he failed Peter too? Was there something he could have said or done to halt his descent? At the time, it felt easier to catalogue his own flaws than face betrayal. Easier to wear another’s lies like chains around his neck.

It had taken him years to see that you cannot shoulder the blame for choices that are not yours. To do so is not love—it is the absence of it. And that absence can eat away at all the good in your life until nothing remains.

Thank Merlin, he had climbed out of that pit. Not completely—perhaps never fully—but enough. Enough to stand here now with a measure of peace. Enough to believe in the righteousness of his work, to allow himself to feel at home again within these walls.

“—Settling in well?”

The familiar voice startled him from his reverie. He turned to see Professor McGonagall in the doorway, a rare smile softening her usually sharp features.

“Yes, thank you, Professor. I was… lost in thought,” he admitted.

“I’ve told you already, Remus. Call me Minerva,” she said, stepping lightly into the classroom. “I remember my first empty classroom. There’s a weight to it, yes, but also a wonder, isn’t there?”

Remus gave a dry laugh, lowering himself into a chair.

“To be honest, I haven’t quite settled into the idea of being a teacher. I was just… reminiscing about the old days.”

“Oh, but you must accept it. You are here now—the next Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. No one can take this from you. You deserve it.” Her lips twitched with irony. “And I made sure of it. After all, I’ve earned a reputation for a sharp temper. The staff lives in terror of my outbursts.”

Remus’s eyes softened.

“I wasn’t here, Minerva, but I doubt anyone could see you as anything less than respected, unshakable, Head of Gryffindor House.”

She sighed softly.

“Respect means little compared to the well-being of my students. That is what I guard most fiercely. So I must warn you: your students must see you as measured and strong. Don’t fall back on Marauder impulses, Remus. Earn their respect, and keep it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle. “And in that spirit, I think I’ll spend my last night of freedom at dinner with a certain student I must remind to respect me.”

Her lips curved knowingly.

“Not dining with us?”

“No. Best to spare poor Severus the stroke. Merlin knows he holds his breath every time we share a room.”

She smiled, but her expression soon hardened.

“We must tread carefully with Severus. His bond with Dumbledore grows tighter each day. They speak in secrets, weave plans beyond our hearing. With every thread, he grows more intolerable. I will not stand it any longer, Remus, and neither should you. Remember our purpose: protect Harry, temper Dumbledore’s influence, and guard the other students. That means Severus’s excesses must end.”

Remus inclined his head solemnly.

“A noble mission. We’ll be busy. I only hope I can help.”

Her gaze softened, sharp eyes glinting with certainty.

“You will, Remus. I trust you. But for tonight, enjoy yourself. Tomorrow, our work begins.”

Chapter Text

Lily had always loved Christmas. As a child, she delighted in helping her mother and Tuney decorate the tree and in making little drawings for Father Christmas. But after moving in with James, the celebrations had doubled in both chaos and joy. James insisted on starting carols as early as November, experimenting endlessly with eggnog recipes, and organizing gingerbread house contests.

Each year had grown wilder and merrier than the last, from Harry’s third Christmas up until the one before he left for Hogwarts. But after their firstborn went off to school, the holidays carried a bittersweet tinge. Christmas still meant joy, yet it also brought worry—Harry returned quieter, more secretive, as though already bracing for the adventures awaiting him in the next term.

This year, however, Lily was determined to restore the full magic of their Christmas Bonanzas, as James had always called them. The task fell entirely on her shoulders: James was swamped with Wizengamot duties, Harry was still at school, and little Mia… well, Mia was far too easily distracted by glitter to be of much help.

At that moment, Lily caught sight of her daughter toddling toward a box, stretching tiny arms to grab an ornament.

"Mia, no!" Lily warned, attempting a commanding tone, though laughter betrayed her. "Mummy will let you play later, but first we need to clean the dust."

The little girl turned wide-eyed, then let out a theatrical wail. Lily shook her head, smiling, and scooped her up.

"Come on, you silly goose," she said, lifting her daughter high into her lap. "Look what Mummy can do!" With a flick of her wand, she sent a charm over the stack of boxes. "Tchaaan! All clean. Now we can explore."

She bounced Mia gently on her lap, eliciting delighted giggles, before setting her down again. The girl immediately toddled back to the boxes, curiosity guiding her every step.

"Our challenge, Miss Mia," Lily said, tapping her daughter’s nose and earning another laugh, "will be to choose only the very best ornaments. What do you think?" She glanced at the overflowing boxes and grinned. "Yes, it’s completely bonkers. We must have a thousand decorations! Good thing we started in November."

Just as she was about to begin, an owl arrived with a message. Lily paused, quickly vanishing and disguising all the boxes, much to Mia’s dismay.

"Come on, Mia. We’re going to meet your godfather," she said, scooping the little girl up and summoning coats to dress them both warmly.

Moments later, they flooed into the Three Broomsticks. Despite it being a weekday, the inn buzzed with sound and laughter. The air smelled of butterbeer and polished wood, garlands of holly and evergreen hung from the beams, and Madam Rosmerta moved gracefully between tables, her smile as constant as the oak bar itself.

Lily bounced Mia on her lap to soothe her travel fuss, until a warm voice greeted them.

"Look who it is, Mrs. Potter," said Rosmerta, bending over to coo at the baby. "And this must be little Miss Potter. Oh, look at you, pretty thing. With those wild curls, you’re most certainly a Potter."

"Yes, she is. With a strong proclivity for chaos, like all the other Potters," Lily laughed as Mia gurgled happily in her arms.

"Oh, I don’t know about that. Your older one seemed like an angel. He even managed to calm his father and Sirius the last time they were here. That was your boy’s first visit to Hogsmeade, wasn’t it?"

"Yes, Harry is in his third year and was very excited about—"

Lily’s sentence was cut short by her daughter’s shriek.

"Moo, mooo!"

Turning, she saw Remus stepping into the bar, a warm smile spreading across his face at his goddaughter’s antics.

"Who’s there? Who’s there?" he chanted playfully, drawing giggles from Mia and nearby patrons.

"Well, if I’m guessing right, your company has just arrived, Mrs. Potter. Please, sit. I’ll serve you shortly. Butterbeer and hot chocolate?"

Lily and Remus nodded, laughing as they moved to a table. Lily handed Mia to Remus and watched the two play while taking a sip of her drink. Remus only noticed a moment later that he had been ignoring her.

"Sorry. Every time I see her, she just looks so much bigger! Thank you for coming. It’s easier here in the village to talk calmly," he added, more guardedly.

Lily raised an eyebrow. Calmer than home?

"You’re not about to ask me to keep a secret from James, are you, Remus?"

"No," he said with a dry chuckle. "But it’s better if you tell him. You can discuss, as parents, how to approach this with Harry."

"What subject? You wrote he seemed preoccupied, but James and Sirius both said he was happy. Did something happen at school?"

"No. He sneaked back into the village to fetch some chocolates Ron forgot for Ginny. Somehow, he overheard adults talking about Regulus… and how they thought he was still alive, lurking nearby, waiting to get to Harry."

Lily gasped, covering her mouth. Mia reached for her in worry.

"Ma!"

Remus gently returned Mia to Lily, who clutched her daughter close, whispering:

"Poor Harry… he must be so worried."

"His worries might ease with conversation," said Remus quietly, meeting her eyes.

She nodded, thinking of James. He would shield Harry, convinced ignorance was protection. But she could see Remus’s point.

"He must have been terrified, yet didn’t come to us. Do you think we make him hide things because he believes we do the same?"

"No," said Remus. "He simply doesn’t want you to worry. He wants to protect you."

"He’s thirteen, Moony. It’s our job to protect him. But I understand. Perhaps we should be more direct and open about the dangers and protections. Thank you."

Before she could speak more, the door burst open, letting a cold wind sweep in. Severus froze at the threshold, eyes locking on Lily.

"Just what I needed…" muttered Lily.

"I thought I’d lost him," Remus said. "He must have followed when he realized I wasn’t at school."

Lily narrowed her eyes. Severus was still intent on shadowing Remus.

At last, Severus moved toward them. Remus opened his mouth, but Severus was faster.

"Lily! Good to see you," he said, stopping by the table, deliberately turning his back on Remus.

"I wish I could say the same, but you’ve interrupted us. I was talking with my friend."

Severus’s gaze fell to Mia, as if noticing her for the first time.

"Hardly appropriate for a mother to bring a baby here," he said disdainfully.

"Funny. From what I hear of your teaching, I’d say you know nothing about children."

Remus laughed, stepping in.

"Anything you need, Severus? Otherwise, we’d like to continue our conversation."

Severus finally faced Remus, spitting:

"Shouldn’t you be at the school, doing your job?"

"I could say the same to you," Remus replied coolly, cup in hand, eyes locked.

Lily knew Severus wouldn’t leave them be. She decided it was time to go, hating to leave Remus but thinking quickly about how best to help him.

"Remus, I won’t take more of your free time. Thank you for meeting us!" she said, rising with Mia. She ignored Severus as she stepped past him. "Now, we must prepare a surprise for Daddy, mustn’t we, Mia?"

"DA!" Mia squealed.

Lily felt Severus’s cold stare, but kept walking.

"We’ll see you before Christmas Eve," she added. "Say bye-bye, Mia."

The little girl waved proudly, while Lily laid a gentle hand on Remus’s shoulder.

"Goodbye, Moony!"

"Goodbye, Lily. Goodbye, Mia!"

Out on the street, Lily chose to Apparate rather than face Severus again. She pondered how best to help Remus deal with him. Confrontation would only worsen matters.

As she walked along the cobbled street with Mia in her arms, the baby squealed, pointing.

"Ma!" she cried, finger pressed eagerly against a shop window where a tree glittered with ornaments.

"Yes, Mia, we’ll go home and decorate our tree."

Mia kicked and whined, insisting. Lily laughed softly.

"More ornaments, Mia? Oh, you are a Potter indeed!" she chuckled. "Let’s pick some special new ones."

She would speak with James about what Remus had told her. Together, they would help Harry. She would help Remus. And they would have their Christmas Bonanza. Lily would see to it.

Chapter Text

When he was younger, before Harry was born, Sirius had experimented with hallucinogens and imagined all sorts of wild scenarios. Yet none of those feverish visions felt as surreal as the present moment.

James sat rigid on the couch, tension radiating from him, while Lily tried to keep him grounded with a steady hand on his knee. Opposite them, Regulus lounged with a poise Sirius hadn’t seen in months—an edge of arrogance, sharp and deliberate. On the floor between them, little Mia played quietly with her toys, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing above her head. The sight made Sirius all the more uneasy; he lingered at the side of the room, half-expecting to dive in if hexes began to fly.

"So let me get this straight: you want to risk my safety and freedom—as well as your own—just to soothe a thirteen-year-old boy?" Regulus sneered, every word dripping mockery.

James’s face darkened, his fury ready to spill over, but Lily’s hand pressed firmly against his knee. She leaned forward, voice calm but resolute.

"We understand it may seem like a risk to you, Regulus. But we’d be cautious, and we’d make sure Harry understood the need for secrecy. What matters is that this is vital for our child’s well-being."

Regulus’s eyes narrowed, the familiar mask of disdain firmly in place. But Sirius caught it—the faintest flicker of surprise and hesitation, a crack in the armor. Regulus was surprised by Lily’s calm manners and politeness.

"You’re all reckless," he said at last, his tone sharp, though not quite as certain as before. "Trusting a child with this… it’s madness."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze darting for a second toward Mia playing on the floor. The sight seemed to unsettle him, though he quickly straightened, as if the moment had never happened.

"And yet…" Regulus exhaled slowly, clicking his tongue again. "The chance of Dumbledore getting closer to our situation is daunting…"

James leaned forward, seizing the opening. "It is. And that’s why we need you to trust Harry as much as we do."

Regulus’s lips pressed into a thin line. His expression betrayed nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. For the first time, Sirius saw not the strategist or the cynic, but his brother, cornered by a choice he didn’t want to make.

The conversation rolled on—James’s urgency, Lily’s patience, Regulus’s disdain. Sirius only half-listened, too intent on the battlefield of his brother’s face. He knew those masks better than anyone, knew the precise moment a sneer turned brittle.

"I’ll consider it," Regulus muttered finally, his voice low, as though the words themselves cost him something.

Regulus’s words hung heavy in the room.

Sirius leaned forward from where he had been half-hidden in the shadows, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He knew just how to push his brother further.

"That’s more than I ever expected to hear from you, little brother. And you know what? Considering is already choosing, deep down. You wouldn’t even weigh it if part of you didn’t want to stand with us."

His tone was light, but his eyes betrayed the plea beneath the jest. "Don’t take too long, Reg. Harry doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. We don’t have it."

James seized the moment, his expression sharp, calculating, showing he understood Sirius’s move.

"Sirius is right. Harry will be home for two weeks, starting at the end of the week. That’s our chance to talk with him. We won’t have the same privacy while he’s in school."

With a voice gentler but no less deliberate, Lily added:

"And it would give us the chance to introduce you properly. You could spend Christmas Eve with us. We would love that, Regulus."

Her words, once again, seemed to startle him. His carefully measured mask faltered for an instant—just as Mia toddled across the carpet and clutched at his leg, pulling herself up with a triumphant squeal.

The room went still. Every adult held their breath, waiting to see how Regulus would react.

Regulus froze, his usual composure cracking at the tiny hands gripping his robes. Mia looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, her curls bouncing as she let out a soft giggle.

For a moment, Sirius thought his brother would recoil, the way he always did when something caught him off guard. But instead, Regulus stood utterly still, as though the smallest gesture might shatter the fragile weight of the child leaning on him.

"Mmm…" Mia babbled, pressing her cheek against his knee as if she had decided, without question, that he was safe. Then, pointing to his braided hair, she said, "Pretty."

Something flickered across Regulus’s face—confusion first, then a flash of panic, and finally, something Sirius couldn’t remember seeing there since they were boys: vulnerability.

Awkwardly, almost mechanically, Regulus bent down and placed a hand on Mia’s back. Not a proper embrace, not yet—but his touch was careful, hesitant, as though afraid she might break.

James’s jaw tightened. His whole body leaned forward slightly, as though ready to spring between them if needed. Lily’s hand pressed against his arm in warning, urging him silently to hold back, but his eyes never left Regulus’s hand on his daughter. To James, the proximity was far from harmless—it was a risk, and he couldn’t quite share the trust Mia offered so freely.

Sirius, however, was transfixed, almost breathless. To him, this was something he never thought he would see—his brother, softened, undone, even if just for a moment. But he could not look for long, so he had to look away, the image too much for him to bear. His brother, who had spent a lifetime armoured against every affection, was undone by a child’s touch.

Christmas Eve was agreed upon, though Regulus’s voice was rough and Lily’s thanks too gentle for him to withstand.

When Regulus finally straightened again, his mask was back in place—but thinner now, fragile. His voice, when he spoke, was lower, rougher than before:

"Christmas Eve, then. We’ll see."

"Thank you," said Lily.

James quickly scooped Mia into his arms, barely masking his intent to separate her from Regulus. Soon after, they left.

Sirius stepped near him, thinking how to approach him, but his brother seemed to get back from his wonders and spoke first, without turning to face him.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea, but if you want, tell the boy. I won’t play friends and family with the Potters. I know you probably missed them, so go. But I will stay."

"Oh, come on, Reg," he said quickly, reaching his side. "I want to be with you on Christmas. It’s our chance to spend a normal, non-stuffy holiday together. This could be good for you."

"I don’t see how you could fathom such an idea."

"You are free now, not in prison, and besides, you only know the stuffy and unbearable balls we grew up with… It would be good to spend the day with close people. Andy will probably…"

"I’ve had plenty of Christmas experiences already," he scoffed.

"Not like this!" pressed Sirius, hoping that the flicker of emotion he saw on his brother while interacting with Mia could bring him back from whatever dark pitch he was buried in. "You never celebrated the holiday because you were with people who care about each other, not with gifts or appearances…"

"I’ve celebrated Christmas once. I even fooled myself into believing I was…" He interrupted, but didn’t finish, closing his eyes.

"What? What were you saying?"

Regulus seemed to hesitate, but decided to speak again.

"I’ve had enough of fooling myself with stupid dates and promises of love. Leave it be, Sirius."

"What? Love?" thought Sirius.

Regulus turned to escape, but Sirius grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

"There’s something I don’t know. Nobody would talk about love when referring to Walburga and Orion. Who was it? You can trust me."

Regulus shook off his hold, jumped away, and looked at him with fury.

"Leave it be. You would not…" He closed his eyes, trying to hide whatever plagued him.

"Reg, please. I just want to help, whatever it is."

Regulus opened his eyes and looked him coldly in the eyes.

"Grief. All I have is grief. And you know what, Sirius? You would jump to commemorate my grief. Don’t you dare try to understand it. And never speak of it again."

He left without looking back, and Sirius stayed rooted to the spot, the words seared into him.

Grief. Love.

For the first time in years, Sirius realized how little he truly knew his brother—not the mask, not the strategist, not the survivor. The man. The boy who had once whispered secrets in the dark, the boy who had once looked at him with trust instead of suspicion.

And now, as the door clicked shut behind Regulus, Sirius was left with the cruelest of truths: he had fought all his life to be free of the Black family, only to discover that the one piece of it he wanted to save—the only part that mattered—was a mystery he might never unravel.

Chapter Text

Until a few weeks ago, Harry had been really excited about Christmas. With Mia getting older, it promised to be even more fun. He could explain Father Christmas to her and help her open her presents… He also missed his mum and dad. He had been looking forward to going home, but now he feared he might be putting them in danger. He tried to stay at Hogwarts, but his parents were firmly against the idea.

At least his parents seemed genuinely happy when they saw him. During dinner, Mia hadn’t stopped giggling and bouncing around, which made the evening more joyful. His sister was going to be a fireball, perhaps like Ginny—not that Harry really thought of Ginny as a sister… or anything else. He just… liked that Ginny had started to come out of her shell. Thinking about her more often was normal, wasn’t it? Anyway, he had other things he needed to focus on. His parents asked to speak with him after dinner.

The sitting room was bathed in the warm glow of the fire, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The dining table still held the faint scent of dinner, and a few of Mia’s toys lay scattered on the floor, reminders of her constant energy just moments ago. Outside the window, the cold December night contrasted sharply with the cozy warmth inside; snowflakes had begun to fall softly, catching the firelight and creating tiny sparkles on the wooden floor.

His mum had just come upstairs after putting Mia to bed, and his dad sat on the couch, trying to distract him by talking about Quidditch—but Harry could see he was nervous.

"Ok, Miss Hurricane is asleep. It was a battle, but I won!" Lily said with a laugh, sitting beside James and accepting his arms and a kiss on her head.

Both his parents turned to look at him, their expressions tense. They sat up straight, shoulder to shoulder, in silence. When Lily glanced at James, Harry realized they had a script planned—James would speak first.

"Harry, since you began school, things have been… complicated," James started. "You’ve faced many challenges, and we’re incredibly proud of you. But you know, we were never happy seeing you in these situations."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but his mother gently raised a hand, stopping him.

"Sweetheart, we are not angry with you," Lily said softly. "But we have to be honest. We never wished for this. And, as your parents, it is our job to protect you. No matter what. We are the adults, and you are our child. That is our responsibility."

"But Mum… you have. It’s okay! It’s not your fault…" Harry protested.

"Harry," James interrupted gently, "we know. But this is the natural order of things. It’s also natural for you to want to protect us…" He paused, searching for words. "In fact… I’m sorry. I haven’t been easy on you. I’ve been hard on you because I’ve been frustrated, feeling that I’ve let you down. It’s not because I think you’re defenseless—it’s because I wanted to be the one protecting you."

Lily took James’s hand, and Harry could see both of them holding back tears.

"We’ve been trying to help more, Harry, because we felt helpless. But now we struggle with how much to tell you," she said, reaching out to hold Harry’s hand with her free hand. "We discussed this a lot and decided it was best for you to know. Because we’re a family, Harry. In a family, everyone protects each other."

Harry was too stunned to speak. He wanted to say something, anything… but the words died in his throat, so he just nodded. James continued:

"Regulus Black is your godfather’s brother. He was a Death Eater and escaped Azkaban at the end of the summer. But there’s more to it…" James paused. "He was the one who warned us that Halloween night. He came with Sirius and helped us fight. He found you after Voldemort attacked your mother, and he saw Voldemort disappear after…" James trailed off, unable to continue.

Lily was crying openly now. Harry couldn’t remember that night clearly, but he still had the scar, a constant reminder of the pain.

"Sweetheart, Harry," Lily said, squeezing his hand, "some people get lost in life, but they show their worth in the crucial moments. Regulus is one of those people. He turned himself in and served time in Azkaban."

"But there are better ways to redeem himself," James said. "We needed him, Harry, so we did what had to be done."

"What?" Harry murmured.

"What matters," Lily continued, "is that Regulus will not hurt you. He doesn’t want to. So your dad, Sirius, I… and, well, a few others helped him escape and hide."

"Harry," his father said firmly, "Regulus will help us in this war. He will help us defeat Voldemort."

Harry remained silent, his hand held tightly by his mother. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his face, but it didn’t ease the lump in his throat. He wanted to ask a hundred questions, but the words seemed to stick somewhere between fear and disbelief.

James took a deep breath and continued, his voice firmer now, trying to regain control of the story:

"Regulus risked everything, Harry. He knew what he had done, and he tried to make it right. He paid his price in Azkaban, but now he’s on our side." James glanced at Lily, who nodded encouragingly. "He helped us because he believes in doing the right thing, even when it’s hard."

Harry’s mind raced. All this time… and he was alive? And helping? He tried to picture Regulus, and for a moment, the anger and confusion mixed with a strange sense of relief.

Lily’s voice was soft but steady:

"You don’t need to be afraid of him, Harry. And you don’t need to carry the weight of protecting us alone anymore." She squeezed his hand again. "We will all protect each other. That’s what family is."

Harry swallowed hard. He had always felt responsible for everyone, especially after the scar, after the danger… but hearing his parents say it, seeing them here, so vulnerable yet so strong, made something inside him shift.

Then James added cautiously, his gaze sharp:

"But Harry… you must keep this secret from Dumbledore. He trusts you, yes, but this… this is ours to handle for now. No one else can know about Regulus’s escape or his role in helping us. Not yet."

Harry froze. The weight of secrecy settled on his shoulders like a stone. Keeping something from Dumbledore? He had always trusted the headmaster implicitly—but now, his parents’ insistence made it clear: this was serious, dangerous, and necessary.

"So… he really wants to help us?" Harry finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Yes," James said firmly, a small, tired smile crossing his face. "And together, we’ll do everything we can to stop Voldemort. But remember, Harry… not a word to anyone else." He paused, letting the weight sink in. "Especially Dumbledore."

For a moment, the room was quiet again. Harry felt the tension ease slightly, replaced by a cautious hope—and a gnawing sense of responsibility. He looked at his parents, at their tired but determined faces, and realized that maybe… just maybe, he didn’t have to fight alone.

The fire crackled in the hearth, and Harry let himself breathe, finally allowing a flicker of relief to reach him. The war was far from over, but in this room, surrounded by his family, he felt… safe.

Chapter Text

The fire was warming the room, its crackle calming and familiar, allowing Minerva to relax and enjoy her tea. The golden glow of her lamp illuminated the stack of essays she still had to grade, but she had decided to take a break. She would continue in the morning, the first day of the Easter holiday. These small pauses were good — a way to wind down and gather strength for the next term. Just as she reached for the biscuit tin, a knock sounded at her door. She called for the visitor to enter, expecting perhaps Pomona, who had promised a new bottle of brandy to share. It was quite a surprise when Albus Dumbledore stepped in instead.

"Good evening, Minerva," he said with a smile, motioning to the chair opposite her. "May I?"

"Of course," she replied, still caught off guard. She realized her mouth had fallen open and quickly composed herself. "I wasn’t expecting company tonight."

"Nor was I expecting to call, truth be told. But sometimes one follows a whim... and here I am." He sat down, his eyes drifting toward the teapot and the tin beside her. "You always seem to keep the best tea."

"Perhaps because I actually drink it," she answered dryly. "Would you care for a cup?"

"Only if you’ll join me. A conversation flows better with tea." She poured him a cup, studying him in silence. He did not often seek her out for small talk.

"The students are already making plans for the Easter break," Dumbledore said lightly after a sip. "I overheard a group of them in the corridor this afternoon, quite animated about Hogsmeade and beyond."

"Yes, well. If they put as much effort into their essays as they do into their holidays, my desk would be considerably clearer."

He chuckled. "You do rather enjoy scolding them into shape."

She allowed herself a thin smile. "It has its moments." For a while, the fire filled the silence. Then his expression shifted, the sparkle in his eyes dimming into something more thoughtful.

"They are so young, aren’t they?" he murmured. "So very young, and yet the weight of the world presses against these walls."

Minerva set down her cup, sensing where this was heading. "That is precisely why I do my best to keep that weight outside. Their childhood is short enough as it is."

"I admire your conviction," Dumbledore said gently, but his gaze grew distant. "And yet, Minerva, I fear the world will not wait for them to grow."

Her brows drew together. "Albus... what exactly are you suggesting?"

He sighed, folding his hands together. "Only that no war is won without sacrifices."

The warmth she had felt drained from the room. Minerva’s fingers tightened around the edge of her desk, but her voice remained steady, steel beneath velvet. "Sacrifices?"

"Yes." He lifted his eyes to hers. "It is a harsh truth, but a truth nonetheless."

"Well, Albus, you seem far more concerned with this war than I am. My first duty is to teach. I fight only to protect my students. That is my role."

"And a noble one," he acknowledged softly. "But there is no absolute protection in war. I fear you will be disappointed if you believe otherwise."

"Disappointed? You mean to tell me you expect me to send them into battle? My own students? To sacrifice them for the sake of some greater plan?"

"Nobody wishes it, Minerva. But it may be necessary. Not all of them — only those who have... special parts to play."

She rose at once, moving past him to stand before the fire. She could not bear to look at him as he circled toward the inevitable conclusion. She cut him short, her voice firm, her back turned. "You mean Harry Potter."

Behind her, he stood as well. His reply came slowly. "Harry does have an important role. But he cannot bear it alone..."

She spun, eyes blazing. "And who else, Albus? Do you intend to sacrifice Granger? The Weasleys? How can you even say such things? How can you look at yourself in the mirror?"

For the first time, she saw him troubled. His composure slipped. "I would sacrifice myself if that were enough. Believe me, Minerva, I wish there were another way."

"I cannot accept it. I cannot even begin to understand it. What are you planning?"

He smiled sadly, the weight of years etched deep across his face. "I know you love the boy. His parents loved him, and his godfather too. I could never ask any of you to prepare him for what lies ahead. You would not endure it. But I can."

He drew a breath, his tone firming. "The Potters are unhappy with me. They’ve cast a new Fidelius, and I cannot reach them. I need you to—"

"How dare you!" Minerva cut across him, stepping forward. "You speak as if you don’t care about him, as if he’s nothing but a weapon! I know you, Albus. You are not cold-hearted. So why?"

He did not answer. But guilt flickered across his face, and Minerva — his old friend — saw it. The thing about old friendships is that you begin to anticipate each other’s moves. Most of the time, you are right — but if you grow too certain, you may overlook the subtleties, fail to connect the pieces. When guilt flickered across Albus’s face, Minerva realized what she had missed. She had been too focused on the present, on his frustration with Voldemort… and had forgotten how deeply Albus measured everything through the lens of love.

"That’s it, isn’t it? You preach about the power of love, yet you believe it demands sacrifice. Your judgement is clouded because you are punishing yourself for..."

He raised a hand, asking her to stop. He did not want to hear the names: Ariana. Grindelwald.

"I have learned more from my past than I ever wished to. Believe me, I wanted Lily, James, and Harry spared from all of this. But Voldemort will return. And Harry must be the one to face him. He is the key."

"I will never accept that. Whatever you hide from me, Albus, it changes nothing. I will not give up on protecting him. We will find another way."

He sighed. "I feared our conversation would end like this. You will not intercede with the Potters, then? Convince them to let me prepare him? The boy avoids me."

"No. And I hope you realize the mistake you are making, before it is too late. For Harry’s sake — and for yours."

Though unsatisfied, Albus gave her a faint smile, touched with sorrow. "We will remain friends, even if we walk different paths?"

She met his eyes, steady and unyielding. "Yes, Albus. We have endured too much together to lose that. But unlike you, I will not sacrifice those I love."

He inclined his head, sadness in every line of his face, and left. After all, no more words were needed. Not tonight.

Chapter Text

"We should get chocolate!"

"No, strawberry is better!"

"Oh, bloody hell, Hermione! Those books have scrambled your brain!"

"Language!" Lily finally intervened.

It was a warm afternoon; the sun blazed overhead, and not even a hint of a breeze offered relief. Four sweaty teenagers sat on her lawn, now awkwardly silent after their noisy debate about which ice cream flavor to order. James had just sent a message saying he would pick some up… and Lily was beginning to regret not choosing herself.

"Hm, Ginny, what do you think?" Harry asked, his cheeks bright red. Had they been that red a minute ago? He was so shy, speaking to her but staring at his shoes.

Ginny, however, turned just as crimson when she answered:

"Chocolate."

Oh, bloody hell, thought Lily. If Sirius was right and Harry truly was James all over again, and if he had now turned his affections toward Ginny, the next few months would be… interesting. It also meant he was no longer her little boy. Rationally, she knew he was growing up—he had just turned fourteen last week.

Oh, tough times…

With Hermione clearly overruled, Lily sent James a quick note asking him to bring chocolate ice cream. She left the group outside, confident they were safe, and returned to her potions lab, where she had set an alarm charm in case Mia woke from her nap.

Despite the pang of watching her eldest lose his childhood innocence, Lily felt a sense of pride. Harry was reaching normal milestones—things she and James had fought hard to give him. (In fact, James had asked her out for the first time when they were both fourteen; she only hoped Harry would show more finesse than his father.)

This sense of normalcy was theirs to claim. Harry’s third year at Hogwarts had been far more typical than the previous ones: no grave dangers, only the usual challenges—yet ones he had managed to overcome, with James’s help, whether saving a hippogriff, preserving a home, or even securing Quidditch victories.

Lily was not naïve enough to think Harry had forgotten Voldemort. But he also knew Regulus did not wish to harm him, and, strangely, even offered his aid. Still, Harry feared the man. Their meeting at Christmas had been tense: Regulus remained stoic, avoiding conversation. Yet seeing him at Sirius’s side had reassured Harry—he trusted his godfather, and anything connected to him.

With Mia still napping and Harry happy with his friends, Lily could finally take this time for herself. Technically, it was work—she had to brew two different deliveries to St. Mungo’s—but her lab also served as her sanctuary.

Motherhood had changed her more than she’d expected. Her emotions burned hotter, brighter, sometimes overwhelming. For a long time, fear for Harry’s safety consumed her, until she realized it was more than fear—it was the loss of herself. She felt guilty for wanting time alone, disgusted that she could crave space from the greatest gift of her life.

But James had helped her see that stepping away was not betrayal. It was survival. She was a better mother, a better wife, when she allowed herself moments of calm and focus. Working from home, their carefully planned routines gave them balance and energy to face the endless challenges together.

Now, she worried for James. She had kept her work, but he had sacrificed his to play politics… which he hated. The weight of it showed in his tired eyes. She knew it would do him good to share their son’s milestone—his first crush—and she would tell him as soon as she found the chance.

Later that day, when the sun was beginning to set, her potions were ready, and the children were happily devouring bowls of ice cream on the porch, Lily pulled James aside into the kitchen.

He was still licking chocolate off his thumb when she crossed her arms and whispered, "You know… I think Harry has a crush."

James blinked, caught mid-bite.

"Ginny," Lily clarified with a raised brow.

James nearly choked on his spoon before breaking into laughter. "I suppose Sirius already suspected this, didn’t he? That insufferable mutt won’t let anyone live it down. Potter men and redheads… is this some sort of family curse?"

Lily rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Don’t be ridiculous. I just saw the way Harry asked her opinion earlier. He went redder than a tomato, and Ginny wasn’t much better."

"Merlin, he’s fourteen." James’s grin turned mischievous. "That’s exactly the age I first asked you out, remember?"

"Yes," Lily said dryly, "and you did it with the subtlety of a Bludger to the head."

"Worked out later, didn’t it?" He leaned closer, smirk firmly in place.

She shoved his chest lightly, though her smile gave her away. "I just hope Harry manages it with more finesse than his father—and with fewer disasters."

James tilted his head, amused. "So… Ginny, eh? It could be worse. She’s fiery, clever, and won’t hesitate to hex him if he acts like an idiot. Exactly what he needs."

Lily’s gaze drifted to the window, where Harry and Ginny sat side by side, laughing at something Ron had said. "It’s just… strange. Seeing him grow up. He’ll always be my little boy."

James slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe. But he’s also our son, Lils. And if he’s anything like me, we’re in for some very entertaining years." He paused, eyes narrowing playfully. "Think they’ll actually tell each other? Or will it be another round of awkward staring contests like we had?"

"Knowing Harry?" Lily chuckled. "Awkward staring, blushing, and Ginny rolling her eyes. Eventually, they’ll figure it out. I just hope Sirius doesn’t make it worse by meddling."

James squeezed her shoulder, grinning. "That’s Sirius for you. Always knowing, always commenting, always insufferable."

They turned back toward the porch. Mia had taken command, ordering the older teens to arrange her toys in a circle. As James and Lily watched, an owl swooped down gracefully, dropping a neatly folded parchment at Lily’s feet.

She bent to pick it up, scanning before passing it to James. "It’s from Dumbledore."

His face darkened immediately. Wrinkles tugged at his mouth, dark circles underlined his eyes. Even tired and scowling, he was still the most handsome man she had ever met.

James read aloud, voice hardening: "'Will you and your family be attending the Quidditch World Cup? I would like to meet with you during the event.'"

He tossed the parchment onto the counter with a snap. "Of course he does. Always something. Can’t the man leave us alone for five minutes? We’re supposed to be enjoying a quiet summer."

"Wizarding business," Lily replied dryly. "Something serious, no doubt."

"Serious, convenient, whatever." James raked a hand through his hair. "The kids finally have a normal summer, and here comes Dumbledore to ruin it."

"At least he didn’t ask to meet with them directly," Lily murmured. "Yet."

James began pacing. "He must be delusional if he thinks he’ll get near Harry."

"James," she said gently, "we can’t dodge him forever. He can reach Harry at school."

"Not with Minerva and Remus watching with hawk eyes. They won’t let him."

She sighed. "If we keep refusing, he might push harder—and then not even Minerva and Remus could keep him away. Better to give him a little, just enough to keep him at bay."

"But it has to be now?" James stopped pacing, frustration flashing in his eyes. "The man has no concept of downtime. Peaceful family moments must be a myth."

Lily smiled wryly. "Famous last words, James."

He blew out a breath. "I don’t want to talk to him."

"Neither do I." She reached for his hands. "But we’ll think of something."

"Fine," he muttered, softening. "But not today. Today’s for the kids."

Outside, the sun dipped low, casting a warm glow over the garden. Inside, unease settled between them like a shadow. James and Lily knew this fragile peace might not last—but they were ready to fight for it.

Chapter Text

The days following the Quidditch World Cup and the shocking events of the Triwizard Tournament were tense, to say the least. James’s frustration simmered beneath the surface. The terrifying memory of Voldemort’s return loomed like a shadow—the Dark Mark still burned in the sky above the stadium, a grim reminder that the wizarding world was far from safe. And as if that weren’t enough, Harry had been selected by the Goblet of Fire without even entering his name, thrust into a dangerous tournament he never asked for.

Minerva had assured him that no one had been more surprised than Dumbledore, which somehow felt even more unsettling. It meant Hogwarts held dangers James hadn’t fully realized. He naturally suspected Snape, but the Bulgarian Headmaster also seemed suspicious. He couldn’t simply wait at home for his son’s letters or catch glimpses of him only during the tournament tasks. He wanted time with Harry—more than the occasional note or fleeting sight—so he had secured access to Hogwarts.

That morning, he arrived at the castle for a lecture Professor McGonagall had personally organized: a demonstration of practical transfiguration applied to broom engineering, a subject James knew well from his days as an engineer before joining the Wizengamot. Even as he set up levitating brooms and notes, his mind kept drifting back to Harry.

Inside the Great Hall, the students gathered eagerly. Harry and his two best friends were seated near the front, which put James slightly at ease. Harry had mentioned in a note that Ron was angry with him, but it seemed they had reconciled after the first task.

Another, more delicate development caught James’s attention: Harry and Ginny were seated apart, separated by friends, but his son kept glancing at her. A subtle distance lingered between them. Ginny’s arms were crossed, her expression guarded, while Harry’s eyes flickered toward her with the kind of longing and confusion only a fourteen-year-old could muster.

James felt a pang—a blend of amusement and concern. He remembered this phase vividly: how his head had always turned—still did, truth be told—whenever Lily entered a room. At thirteen, it was hopeless. His palms would tingle when she was near, urging him to reach out, so instead he’d ruffle his own hair (which she teased him for endlessly). He remembered rehearsing lines in his head, trying to summon confidence, only to blurt out the worst ones when he opened his mouth. He just hoped his boy was doing better. But from the look of things…

He leaned slightly toward Remus Lupin, still seated at the staff table.
“Look at him,” James murmured, nodding toward Harry. “Can’t stop looking at her. And yet… they’re not even speaking. Typical teenage angst.”

Remus gave a small, knowing smile.
“Give it time, James. They’ll work it out.”

Minerva gave James a subtle nod from her chair at the staff table, signaling him to begin.

James straightened, cleared his throat, and addressed the room with confidence:
“Good morning, everyone. I am James Potter, and for a few years, I worked on the production of some of your favourite brooms, such as the Nimbus or the Cleansweep. My last project was the Firebolt, one of the most recent brooms on the market. Just like this one,” he said, pointing to his broom on the table. “Today, I’ll be showing you how transfiguration isn’t just for spells in books—it can actually improve the performance of magical brooms. For example…”

With a flick of his wand, a standard broomstick levitated from the table, small glowing runes appearing along the shaft. Within moments, it shimmered, the bristles realigning for maximum speed and control. The students murmured in awe.

“By altering the distribution of mass through careful transfiguration, you can create brooms that are not only faster but also safer in sharp turns and during Quidditch matches,” James explained, pacing slightly as his hands danced through the air to demonstrate minor adjustments.

By the end of the lecture, James felt a rare surge of satisfaction. The students had asked sharp, thoughtful questions, proving they were truly engaged. And as a bonus, Snape looked so sour about how smoothly everything had gone that he seemed one scowl away from combusting.

As the students filed out of the Great Hall, still buzzing about the levitating brooms and transfiguration demonstrations, James began packing away his notes and sketches. He allowed himself a brief moment to relax, knowing the lecture had gone well.

Harry lingered at the back of the room, shuffling awkwardly. He seemed distracted, glancing around at the departing students, but not quite noticing anything beyond that. James studied him for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, Dad,” Harry began, a little hesitantly. “The lecture… it was really cool. I didn’t know you could make brooms do that with transfiguration.”

James smiled, ruffling his son’s hair.
“Thanks, Harry. Pretty neat, huh? Even I didn’t expect the runes to glow that brightly in front of everyone.”

Harry nodded quickly, then glanced toward Ginny across the hall, but barely registered anything—just a fleeting glance before looking down at his shoes. James noticed.

“And the tournament, too…” Harry said slowly, still avoiding her gaze. “Some of the tasks… it was kind of like what you were showing with the brooms. You know, needing to think fast, adjust on the fly…”

James nodded, sensing the connection.
“Exactly. You’re learning more than just spells and charms. Strategy, timing, adapting to new situations… all of that counts. You think you’re getting it right at everything, mate?”

Harry hesitated, scratching the back of his neck.
“Um… yeah, the tournament thing is better. But… Cho Chang asked me to go out… I don’t know. Ginny seems… I don’t know, a bit off? I don’t get it.”

James raised an eyebrow, leaning against a nearby table. He studied his son for a moment, reading between the lines. Harry had no idea what was really going on. Blimey, James thought. These last months, he, Lily, and Sirius had joked that Harry was just like his dad—but they were wrong. This kind of obliviousness came completely from the Evans side. Oh, poor him (and poor Ginny!).

“Ah, right. Well… teenage feelings are confusing. You probably haven’t noticed, but Ginny’s been acting… a little protective, let’s say. And Cho… you like her?”

Harry looked puzzled.
“Protective? I… I don’t get it. I mean, I like… I guess I like Cho? Or I just… don’t know.”

James chuckled softly, ruffling his hair again.
“That’s fine. You’re fourteen. Don’t stress about it. Just be honest, be polite, and try to figure out how you really feel. And Ginny… well, she’ll let you know if she cares—or if she’s upset.”

Harry nodded slowly, still looking a little bewildered. He glanced toward Ginny again, completely oblivious to the tension James noticed, then back at his father.
“Okay… I’ll… try. But what about the Yule Ball? I don’t even know who I should ask. Cho, Ginny… or… someone else?”

James smiled knowingly, ruffling his hair again.
“Ah, the Ball. Another minefield of feelings, mate. Don’t rush. Whoever you ask, make sure it’s someone you really want to spend the night with. And don’t forget to consider how it might affect others—especially Ginny.”

Harry nodded slowly, still looking bewildered.
“Right… I’ll… try.”

James gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
“Good. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll figure it out.”

Harry shuffled off, still uncertain, glancing once more toward Ginny, oblivious to the way James had noticed every subtle glance. James watched him go, a mixture of amusement and protective worry in his chest, knowing that navigating feelings and friendships could be just as complicated as any Quidditch match—or Triwizard task.

He just hoped his son’s luck would change in time. At Harry’s age, James had felt utterly tormented, desperate to win Lily’s heart and failing at every turn. Harry might not yet understand how deep his feelings for Ginny truly ran, but James believed one thing without question: the Potters only ever gave their hearts once, and always to the one who was meant for them. He had with Lily—just as his father had with his mother—and he trusted Harry’s heart would lead him just as surely.

As Harry disappeared from sight, James sensed others behind him. He turned to find Minerva and Remus, both watching with curious expressions.
“So,” Minerva whispered, “did you manage to uncover what’s going on between Harry and Miss Weasley? Is Miss Chang involved?”

James chuckled, unable to help himself. His son might be facing more than his fair share of burdens, which worried him deeply—but for now, at least, Harry also had the gift of ordinary teenage drama. And James knew Lily would be glad to hear it.

Chapter Text

Sirius paced the cramped living room of the safehouse, the fire crackling low in the hearth. He was supposed to be lying low, keeping to the shadows after Regulus’s daring escape from Azkaban, but news from Hogwarts had a way of pulling him back in. He held a letter from Harry in his hands, reading it for the third time, a grin tugging at his lips.

“He asked Ginny to the Winter Ball,” Sirius muttered to himself, pacing. “Blimey… he actually asked her.”

Regulus entered the room with Kreacher and perched himself on the edge of the tattered sofa, raising an eyebrow.
“Who did what now?” he asked, trying to sound uninterested, though his curiosity betrayed him.

“Harry,” Sirius said, waving the letter. “He invited Ginny to the ball. And now I’m thinking… well, there’s more to a date than just showing up, isn’t there?”

Kreacher shuffled closer, arms folded, his sour expression sharper than ever.
“Master Black is foolish as always, thinking to meddle in children’s affairs. Why not leave the boy to himself?” he snapped, voice dripping with disdain.

Sirius stopped pacing and turned to him, a sharp glint in his eye.
“And why shouldn’t I help, Kreacher?” he said firmly. “Because you don’t approve? Newsflash: I don’t need your approval, nor your whining. Harry needs this, Ginny deserves this, and I’m not about to sit on my hands while they stumble through it.”

“Make easier?” Kreacher hissed. “You mean you intend to buy the girl a dress, sneak charms into it, and involve yourself in things that are none of your business? Typical Master Black arrogance.”

“Exactly, Kreacher,” Sirius shot back, a grin forming despite the tension. “Master Black’s arrogance, reckless, meddlesome… call it what you like. But if it makes Harry happy and Ginny feel special, I’ll take every bit of that arrogance.”

Regulus, trying not to smile, spoke softly.
“He’s not entirely wrong… if anyone could help Harry, it would be you. But… I think the boy should be more focused on the dangers he faces. Voldemort probably had someone put his name in the Goblet, and he’s worrying about dancing with a girl—this is very reckless. Stupid, even.”

Sirius laughed, pacing again.
“Reckless? Maybe. Stupid? Absolutely not! Harry needs to be a teenager, even if just for one night. Imagine it, Regulus. Ginny, glowing at the ball, Harry seeing her… It’s perfect. I can have the dress delivered magically, with subtle enchantments, so it fits her perfectly. No one suspects a thing.”

Kreacher sniffed loudly, muttering under his breath.
“Master Black… always thinking himself clever, always playing games, never learning.”

“And yet, Kreacher,” Sirius said, crossing his arms, “here I am, thinking ahead, planning something good, and what are you doing? Complaining. Typical. Now go polish your silver or whatever it is you do, and let me get on with helping the kids.”

Regulus leaned back, watching his brother with admiration and worry.
“Just… be careful, Sirius. One wrong move, and this could go horribly wrong. The boy is already receiving too much exposure.”

Sirius grinned, giving a mock salute.
“Operation Yule Ball is officially underway. With care and discretion, I aim to help my godson have a fun night and win the girl's affection. Come on, what could be more exciting than that?”

“He’s one of the competitors of the Goblet of Fire? You want more excitement than that?”

“Nothing like a first snog! And if Harry is anything like his parents, he’s going head over heels for that girl! What could inspire him more to fight?”

There was a pause. Regulus looked down at his hands, voice quiet.
“I… have to admit, there is some nobility in your purpose. You are very protective of the boy. Every child should have someone in their corner... but love could be an illusion and distraction. Especially at that age.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked for a moment to the letter, and a shadow passed over his expression—an unspoken pang of envy. Sirius had always been there for Harry (and James) in ways Regulus had never had. … And living with the possibility of romance. Regulus had watched from the sidelines, trapped in his own family’s shadows, and now here was Harry, getting adventures, friends, and even attention from girls. A green-eyed spark of longing mingled with admiration. Whatever relationship Regulus had with the mystery partner was carried in the dark. His brother had never shown any interest or attraction to a girl at Hogwarts.

Sirius froze, caught off guard by the quiet vulnerability. The room fell silent except for the fire crackling.

“Yes, you are right. We also deserved it when we were younger, but… our family… it wasn’t easy. I imagined that made you hide whoever you were with.”

Regulus smiled bitterly.
“But you had it. You went away and found yourself protectors. You left this family and chose the Potters instead. Instead of all of us. And it is so obvious how your humour changes when they are involved—you become giddy and exuberant. No sullen or defiant posture. You could also try to build for yourself that pink version of a life—a family with a doting wife, kids...”

“Nah,” said Sirius, sitting on the chair in front of him and smiling sadly. “When I met them, I was surprised to see how a family could be so united. Even on being included in it, but the Marauders and Potter family taught me that I could be a part of it. But being a husband, a real husband like Fleamont was... like James is to Lily, I don’t think I have it in me. The way we were raised tainted me somehow... I could never be that caring and focused partner.”

“I doubt it. I think you are more of that than you think. For those who you love, the Potters and your friends...” Regulus said sadly, leaving out the part: you weren’t for me...

Sirius had noticed that his brother felt like this before, but he had never spoken openly about it. He sensed it in every action taken when James or Harry were present or being discussed: an ache of envy he tries to hide. He wished he had had a mentor like Sirius when he was Harry’s age. Someone to push him, to guide him, to be there. And yet, he’d always been on the outside, watching James and Harry get the life he had only glimpsed in fragments.

He softened and tried to smile more gently.
“I… I didn’t know how to do better, Regulus. I thought… I thought you’d be safer where I wasn’t involved. But maybe I should have been there, huh?” He paused and then added with caution, “I hope whoever you had outside this family cared for you and gave you the love you deserve. You always deserved, Regulus, more than me. In fact, you wanted. I think it was because of that that you became involved with the Death Eaters, because you wanted our parents' love and perhaps someone else...”

“Sirius!” he interrupted, his tone warning him not to advance and inquire about his love life.

“I know, I am not asking you to tell me,” he said, holding his hands up, trying to make him listen. “I just want to say that I am sorry, I know I failed you, and that pains me. I don’t want to do it again, to you or to anyone else. Especially Harry, that kid can have a life totally different than ours. Isn’t that something worth fighting for?”

Regulus turned his head down, a faint, sad smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t blame you… I just… sometimes wish things had been different. But you have some reason... the past is past. Let's focus on the present, even if you want to get yourself in the middle of unnecessary teenage drama.”

Sirius turned back to Regulus, determination returning to his eyes.
“Anyway, back to business. Let’s make sure Harry and Ginny have a night to remember. Nothing can go wrong if we’re careful… and clever.”

Regulus sighed but nodded, a quiet acceptance settling over him. He knew Sirius would follow through, reckless as always.
“Good luck, brother. I’ll leave you to it,” he said, getting up.

“Don’t you want to help? It would be a good distraction from seeking Horcruxes.”

Regulus laughed.
“I don’t think I’m competent for the task. You will do better.” He turned to leave, then paused, facing Sirius again. “Although you have horrendous taste sometimes. Be practical: use the boy’s eyes as your guide and choose a dress in regal green,” he spoke with a laugh.

Well, small progress, thought Sirius. But progress nonetheless. Regulus was coming out of his depression and becoming more involved. And the idiot was right! A green dress would fit Ginny perfectly. Maybe he should also buy a matching set of robes for Harry. He had to send an owl to Lily!

Chapter Text

Severus Snape moved through the corridors of Hogwarts like a shadow, his robes whispering against the cold stone floors. He had witnessed the chaos of the second Triwizard Task from a distance, and the sight still churned a dark, uneasy heat in his chest. Potter. Always a Potter. Always in the right place at the right time, always daring, always at the center of attention. Always… adored.

And now… Ginny Weasley. Foolish, reckless Ginny, placing herself in danger, and Potter—predictably, infuriatingly—had been there to save her. His chest tightened, and he expected relief, a quiet satisfaction that she was safe. But no. What welled up instead was irritation, jealousy, and the sharp sting of memories that refused to fade.

Potter walked beside her, dripping wet, hair plastered to his forehead, grin wide, every movement a testament to the confidence that seemed to radiate from him like light. And Ginny… laughing, bright-eyed, alive. How effortlessly she fell into his orbit, drawn to him as though by gravity itself.

Just like James and Lily, Snape thought bitterly, jaw tightening. James with his reckless charm, Lily with her fire and brilliance… and now Potter mirrored them in ways too precise, too painful. It made the ache in Snape’s chest almost unbearable.

He watched them afar, unseen, noting how Potter’s hand lingered near hers, how Ginny glanced up at him with that mix of admiration and amusement. The boy thrived in the spotlight, drew her in without effort… while Snape… He exhaled sharply, bitterness coiling in his stomach. He had never had that. Never anyone to admire him, to trust him, to fight for him.

Voices ahead drew his attention. James and Lily Potter were also in the corridor. He recognized them instantly—the ease with which they moved, the warmth radiating from them. Clinging to Potter and Lily’s hands was a small child—Mia, their newest addition. Another reflection of Potter, yet with Lily’s eyes, her fire. He stepped further into the shadows, protecting himself from their gaze.

“Harry swims and gets GiGi!” the child screamed, voice shrill, commanding attention as if it were a birthright.

Her parents laughed, apparently oblivious to the child’s high-pitched insistence.

“Yes, Harry got Ginny,” Lily said softly, a gentle smile touching her lips.

“Mia swims too?” the child demanded, entirely missing the subtlety of her mother’s tone.

“No, Mia is going home and eating her soup,” Potter said teasingly, voice rich with amusement, as though enjoying the child’s indignation.

“NO SOUP!” the child shrieked, stomping tiny feet on the floor, a tempest in miniature.

Snape watched, involuntarily, as Lily crouched to meet the child’s eyes, whispering something soft yet firm, a correction wrapped in warmth. Potter, predictably, pressed his lips together, stifling a snicker.

The child whined briefly before nestling into her mother’s arms, who, with gentle skill, turned frown into laughter. Lily had always had this power—to touch hearts effortlessly. Too bad she had used it on him, too, and then shattered his heart in a way that time could not mend.

She passed the child to Potter and said:

“Do you want to take her outside to play a little on the grounds? I’ll fetch Harry, see if he’s changed, and if he wants to join us for a walk.”

“Sure thing, love,” Potter replied, leaning in for a quick peck. Snape’s stomach twisted. He had witnessed countless kisses between them over the years, yet each one struck him anew, a fresh pang of bile rising in his throat.

After Potter left, Lily faced forward again and started moving, and he decided to step out of the shadows. Inevitably, her gaze found him. Green eyes, calm, piercing, unyielding. Snape felt the familiar coil of guilt, anger, and envy tighten in his chest.

“Severus,” her voice was soft, but it cut through him like a knife. “You shouldn’t be lingering in the corridors. Hogwarts isn’t a place for brooding in shadows.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked to her, lips pressing into a thin line. Judgment and quiet disappointment radiated from her.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking through corridors without… incident,” he said, clipped, controlled, venom barely contained.

“Walking?” Her eyebrows lifted. “You mean spying on people? Shouldn’t you be working, caring for the children?”

His jaw tightened. His hands clenched at his sides. The sound of her voice still had the power to pierce him, even after all these years.

“I do my work by ensuring strangers don’t take liberties, by keeping the school safe; something you and your family don’t seem to understand.”

“You will never grow beyond your jealousy? Don’t you tire of it? It is… sad, Severus. No one should live like this, chained to the past.”

Snape’s chest constricted. Her insight, as always, was infuriatingly precise. And the weight of his first name—so rarely used by her—pressed down like a stone, a reminder of intimacy lost.

“I do not need a lecture from you,” he said, voice low, harsh. “Your concern is misplaced.”

“Perhaps,” she said softly, eyes sharp. “But I can see through it, Severus. You’ve carried this bitterness too long. It poisons you. And I know it affects your work, your son. Stop measuring him against ghosts. Harry is not James. Yet you… You let old grudges blind you to the present.”

The words lodged in his chest. He wanted to argue, to fling back years of caustic remarks, but the truth weighed heavier than his pride.

“I… am not blind,” he said finally, voice tight. “But neither am I comfortable with what I see. And I do more than you can imagine for your son. Because of you.”

Her lips curved slightly, a mixture of pity and exasperation.

“Then perhaps it’s time you faced it, Severus. Don’t let resentment control you. You can still choose… to be better. You were once better. You were the boy who helped a little girl learn magic. You were a good person.”

She stepped away, the distance between them widening, and Snape remained—alone, as always, surrounded by the shadows he had chosen.

Chapter Text

He stood bare-chested in the half-light of the basement, flinging hex after hex at the battered training dummy. The damp air clung to the stone walls, carrying the mingled scent of mildew and sweat. So consumed was James by his fury that he didn’t hear her approach—until he suddenly grabbed the dummy and began pummeling it with his fists.

“James,” she called, her voice trembling with worry that he might hurt himself.

He turned, and his face crumpled under the weight of grief. Sobs broke from him as he tried to hide behind his arm, but she pulled him against her, not caring that his sweat soaked into her black robes.

“He came back, Lily,” James choked, weeping in her arms. “And I didn’t stop him. He hunted Harry—and Cedric. He hurt them both.”

“You did the best you could. We both did,” she said tiredly, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Voldemort and his twisted followers are the only ones to blame.”

For a moment, she thought she might cry too—but perhaps she had already drained her tears at Cedric’s funeral. They stayed like that for a long time, holding on to each other, until James finally pulled away.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked hoarsely.

“In his room. Sleeping. He finally accepted a potion. And Dobby came after you left—he insisted on keeping watch.”

James exhaled, a tired sound that carried both irony and gratitude. “Perhaps it’s time I stop joking about adopting him and simply admit he’s part of the family. He’s been invaluable these past two years—sending us word of Harry at school.”

A ghost of a smile touched Lily’s lips.
“Yes. Dobby is a Potter now. Best we accept it.”

“At least he carries fewer fleas than Sirius,” James muttered, the attempt at levity crumbling almost instantly. His voice softened again. “I’m sorry I left you upstairs so suddenly. I just... needed to let it out.”

“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “You’ve been carrying so much—Voldemort’s return, Harry shutting down, the Wizengamot, the press…”

“And you?” he cut across her. His eyes searched hers. “You just stood beside parents burying their child. The Diggorys were barely acquaintances, yet you helped them plan the funeral. How are you?”

Lily bit her lip and folded her arms, as if to shield herself. For a moment, she was silent—ashamed—before confessing in a broken whisper:

“Is it terrible that, while I stood there trying to comfort them, all I could think was, thank God it wasn’t my son? I kept repeating it in my head—please, God, not my son.”

James didn’t answer at first. He simply drew her close again, kissed her hair, and spoke softly against her crown.

“When I reached the pitch, I got there before Amos. I saw—before he did—that his boy was gone. And all I felt was relief that Harry was alive. I didn’t even think to stop Amos, to shield him. I only grabbed Harry—he was screaming—and tried to carry him away. I have never felt so selfish.”

Lily tightened her hold on him. “No, James. You were a father saving his child. That’s what any parent would do. And it’s what saved Harry—if you hadn’t been there to face Crouch, if you hadn’t disarmed him… and Moody too. You saved him before I even reached the infirmary. Don’t diminish what you did.”

James’s eyes burned with sorrow. “Harry was so happy last year. Just a boy—a normal boy. But now... this will mark him forever.”

“We gave him that happiness, James,” Lily insisted, stepping back so he’d meet her gaze. “Last year, even this one—we carved out a childhood for him. Because we’re his parents. Because his life is our charge.”

He shook his head. “We can’t control the world, Lils. It’s broken beyond measure.”

“You are his father,” she countered, her voice fierce. “Do you know how lucky he is? How rare, how precious that a father like you is? Harry has a father who refuses to surrender - surrender isn’t in your nature, James. We will stand. And we will win.”

He cupped her face, his voice breaking with quiet conviction. “I couldn’t do this with anyone else. You are my strength, Lily.” Then he kissed her—long and desperate—until neither could breathe.

When at last they parted, they gathered his discarded clothes and began the climb toward the stairs.

“What comes next?” James asked as they ascended.

“I’ll fetch Mia from the Tonkses—Andromeda’s been babysitting her. And you should answer that owl from Sirius. Something about Malfoy laying claim to Bellatrix’s vault at Gringotts…”

James raised an eyebrow, considering the weight of it. “And Harry?”

“Let him rest. He needs it.”

He nodded, the resolve hardening in his eyes. “To the fight?”

“To the fight,” she said.

Chapter Text

The wind clawed at the cottage, branches scratching the glass as though they sought a way inside. Were the sounds only the storm, or something lurking in the dark?

Sweat dampened his skin, soaking clothes and sheets alike. The stench should have betrayed him, but the cleaning charms erased every trace. That was proof this was real. He was not in Azkaban, chained to a stone cot, breathing filth and piss. He was here—at Alphard’s cottage. No—at Sirius’s cottage. His brother had brought him out, claimed forgiveness, whispered promises of safety. Yet Regulus knew the truth: he was free because of the Potters.

The Potters—always first, always chosen.

Still, Regulus’s survival now aligned with theirs. For the moment. Voldemort had risen again. Death would sweep the land, and Regulus Black knew he had been marked.

The torment of memory gnawed at him, sharpened by the certainty of pursuit. Sleep brought no respite—only imagined punishments at the Dark Lord’s hands, only the voice of his past clawing back through the cracks. He saw shadows where there were none, felt eyes in every corner. No light, no shred of hope. Just loss.

And in the middle of that loss—him. A bittersweet presence in all of his thoughts. And a protagonist of all his hopeful, yet dark, memories. Sometimes he was so weak that he could not deny leaning on his image...

A darker night than most, in the Slytherin common room, firelight burning low. Regulus sat rigid on the couch, books forgotten at his side. A hand brushed against his. He stiffened, instinct telling him to recoil. But he didn’t.

The touch lingered. Deliberate.

He turned, and there he was—eyes gleaming, mouth curved in that knowing way. A boy who thrived on control, who wore danger like a second skin.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” His voice was velvet, low and commanding.

The memory burned as bright as the fire that night, and Regulus felt it now like a brand against his skin. That was the beginning.

A knock—soft, almost timid—disturbed his thoughts.

If only he had his wand. At the very least, he could scour the room himself.

He rose with controlled annoyance and cracked the door. Andromeda stood waiting, smile faint but steady.

“Good morning, Reg. Did you sleep?” Her eyes searched his face, then tightened in suspicion. “Or not at all?”

“I am fine,” he rasped, voice hoarse with unrest. “What do you want, Andy?”

“There’s a meeting in an hour. I thought you might want time to prepare.”

“A meeting?” His tone sharpened instantly.

“Nothing happened,” she soothed, pressing gently at the door though he barred her. She let it go. “It’s only discussions of strategy, for safety. With the Potters and the Weasleys.” She offered the last words with care, as though testing the air.

Regulus’s lips curled. “And no one thought to warn me earlier? Do you fear I’ll leap from the window? You know this place is locked tighter than Azkaban. I am still caged. Only now with servitude thrown in.” His words dripped venom, sharp and deliberate.

Andromeda pursed her lips. For a moment, she seemed ready to argue, then exhaled.

“I know it angers you. But it is for your safety. Do you want Kreacher’s help?”

“I would not need Kreacher if I had my wand.” Each syllable was honed like a blade.

She ignored him with practiced calm, as one ignores a child’s tantrum.

“Very well. Kreacher will prepare your bath.”

When she left, Regulus resisted the urge to slam the door. Blacks did not indulge in such displays.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steam and silence later, Kreacher drying his hair with precise charms, Regulus rehearsed the conversations to come—threats weighed against courtesies, barbed words sharpened to perfection.

Descending the stairs, noise drifted in from the garden. Teenagers—three ginger boys—tumbled past, loud and careless, oblivious to him. Behind them, more slowly, came the Potter boy and a red-haired girl, hands entwined.

They saw him. The girl faltered; the boy froze entirely. She recovered first.

“Hi. You’re Sirius’s brother, aren’t you?”

Regulus arched a brow. His silence was deliberate, his gaze glacial. He did not answer.

“So?” the girl pressed, eyebrow lifting in defiance.

Pathetic, the Potter boy stood rigid, fear written plain. Was this stammering child truly meant to face the Dark Lord?

“Why should I answer you? Foolish girl. Did your parents never teach you to avoid strangers? That strangers are dangerous?” His voice was laced with cold contempt.

The words broke through Potter boy’s stupor. He moved, stepping in front of the girl, between her and Regulus, shield raised—not by a wand but by instinct.

“Don’t talk to her like that. Never again,” the boy bit out, now tall enough to meet his eyes.

A fool. A Gryffindor through and through.

Yet the boy did not flinch. His stance was clumsy, his defiance raw, but there was no retreat in his gaze. That, Regulus admitted silently, was… unusual. Most lowered their eyes when confronted by a Death Eater.

For a fleeting heartbeat, he wondered: was this reckless spark arrogance—or something far more dangerous? Resolve.

Part of him longed to sneer, to crush the fire with a word, a look, a reminder of what true danger was. But another part, buried and unwelcome, almost respected the audacity. To stand unarmed, shield raised only by stubborn defiance—yes, foolish. But not without a certain edge.

“Something happening here?” A new voice intruded. Ted Tonks. He strode toward them with an easy smile that did not reach his guarded eyes. “Good morning, Regulus. I see you’ve met the children.”

The smile softened nothing; warning lingered in his stance.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but your presence is requested in the living room.” He turned to the children with gentle firmness. “And weren’t you headed to the garden? The weather’s foul, but it’s still one of the last days before school.”

He did not wait for their reply. Instead, he faced Regulus again, inclining his head in a gesture that was half courtesy, half command.

And what choice did Regulus have? To refuse would mean a scene. To argue would give the mudblood the satisfaction of victory. So he followed—silent, composed, and seething.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed him. He forced stillness into his limbs, mastering the instinct. The room was suffocating—far too many bodies, far too many voices.

Sirius and the Potters. A cluster of gingers—surely the elder pair and their brood. Andromeda with her family. Professor McGonagall. The Werewolf.

They had not even noticed his arrival. Their attention was fixed on the board. His board. His knowledge. His weapon. And they were dismantling it piece by piece, stripping him of what little power remained.

Scrawled across the surface, the tally of Horcruxes still unaccounted for: the ring, the cup, and something of Ravenclaw’s—unconfirmed. The diary was gone, destroyed by the Potter boy. The locket—his burden, his salvation—had been taken with Sirius at his side.

And now, they spoke of it all as though it were theirs. His work, his sacrifices, reduced to discussion in a crowded parlor.

“Mr. Black.”

The sharp voice cut cleanly through the murmur of discussion. Every head turned. Professor McGonagall had straightened from her place near the board, eyes fixed on him with that same unyielding precision he remembered from school.

No warmth, no welcome. Only scrutiny.

Sirius moved closer—protective? Or warning? Regulus did not flinch.

“You may as well join us,” James Potter said, adjusting his square spectacles, tone clipped but not unkind, while he took the center of the room. “This concerns you as much as any of us.”

The room’s weight pressed harder now—the Potters watching, the gingers murmuring, the Werewolf studying him too closely. He forced his steps forward, controlled, deliberate, until he stood within the circle.

“This was my board,” he said at last, voice low but steady. “And it was my knowledge that filled it. Do not mistake silence for ignorance.”

Something unreadable flickered across Potter’s eyes—not quite approval, not quite warning.

“Yes.” Potter conceded. “Thanks to Regulus and Sirius’s work, we think we have enough intel to believe we could find these Horcruxes.” He said to the room, before turning to one of the gingers, “Bill, we believe that one of them is at Gringotts. On Bellatrix’s vault. He will need your help.” Then to McGonagall, “The Hufflepuff Cup or the object of Ravenclaw must be at Hogwarts. He did not give it to any of his followers.”

She nodded, but asked: “Where? And what may be the last? Do you have any suspicion?”

Before Potter could answer, Regulus spoke. He saw the opportunity to assert authority.

“The Dark Lord chose his Horcruxes to prove his powers were greater than any other wizard. In regard to the Hogwarts Founders, he wanted to mock them; take their prized possessions and show he should control all of them. Including Hogwarts.”

His old teacher’s eyes froze. Icy rage.

“He will never control Hogwarts!”

“Of course, we won’t let it get to that,” interjected Potter.

Sirius leaned closer to Regulus, giving a warning look. Good. He liked them unsettled.

“And the other Horcruxes?” asked Andromeda’s daughter, Nymphadora, her manners peculiar as always.

“We will assemble a small group to seek them in important locations by studying Voldemort’s history,” said Sirius.

“Yes. But we have another concern,” Potter added. “We need to do this in secrecy, without anyone else figuring it out. Some of us are about to draw Dumbledore’s attention.”

“How?” inquired Regulus.

“Dumbledore wants to reunite the Order,” Sirius explained, focusing on Regulus, but talking loudly to the rest of them. “He sent me a message last night, and we met briefly this morning. He asked me to participate and lent Grimmauld’s Place for a safehouse.”

“What did you say?” asked Regulus.

“I said I had to think. Grimmauld is wretched, and I was not sure I wanted to return while he hides things from us.”

“That was foolish,” Regulus said.

The room reacted. Regulus saw movement from his peripheral vision, but did not acknowledge it. They silently agreed with Sirius, yet awaited more. Using the pause, Regulus continued:

“The best way to control Dumbledore’s perceptions and keep tabs is to get closer to him. Pretend loyalty, gain intel while focusing on threats from Voldemort. Dumbledore will play Savior—he cannot resist.”

“Regulus is right,” said Andromeda, calculating. Only the Slytherins immediately grasp this. “We gather intel he cannot hide. Meanwhile, we act faster, diffusing threats from Voldemort on both sides. Perfect.”

Sirius gleamed, turning to Potter.

“Prongs, I think this is a good idea.”

“I agree. It gives more control,” said the Werewolf.

“It is risky, but could work,” added Arthur Weasley, nervously.

Potter consulted his wife silently, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s resume the Order. Dumbledore cannot suspect us. Meanwhile, Sirius and Regulus will coordinate with Bill to find the remaining Horcruxes.”

The ginger boy from earlier approached Regulus with a narrow box. Everyone watched with worry written on their faces, except Andromeda and Sirius, who looked serene.

“This is your wand,” the boy said. “It cannot be traced. I made sure.”

Regulus lifted it. Weight, balance, memory—freedom in his grasp.

“Take your wand, Reg. We have a few places to visit. With proper disguise, of course. Your locked-up days are over,” grinned Sirius.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Regus!” the girl squealed, wriggling in her father’s arms.

James Potter’s grip tightened. smiling with polite stiffness. The distrust in his posture was unmistakable, though carefully wrapped in courtesy. The muggleborn—no, Lily—laughed, gently, but even she cast a fleeting, assessing glance his way.

Sirius, ever the dramatist, leapt in before the air could curdle completely. He planted himself in front of the little girl with a theatrical groan.

“Regus? Only Regus? Didn’t you miss your favourite uncle?”

The girl giggled, bright and untroubled. Her laughter softened the tension—though James’s knuckles remained white around her small frame. Lily laid a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder and spoke softly, coaxing:

“James, let Mia play on the floor. Then we can help—set the table or finish dinner?” She flashed Sirius a hopeful smile.

But Sirius waved her off. “No need. Andy and Ted are bringing the food, and Kreacher will set the table. Let’s sit.”

Regulus finally spoke, his voice smooth but laced with venom. “I didn’t realise you had guests for dinner, Sirius.”

“We may have imposed,” Lily admitted, meeting his eyes. Regulus, strangely unsettled by the clarity of her green gaze, looked away.

“Our schedules have been packed,” she went on. “It was hard to arrange a meeting during the day, so Sirius…”

“…suggested dinner,” Sirius finished with a shrug. “Thought it might do us good. Something easy before work swallows us whole. Merlin knows it’s a miracle we aren’t mad already, being alone with Kreacher all day.”

James’s head snapped toward Sirius, watching him kneel beside Mia. Concern lit his features, and Regulus had to grudgingly admit—Potter cared for Sirius. Deeply.

“Maybe you should get out more, mate,” James suggested. “Keep up appearances.”

“Nah,” Sirius said with a grin. “I’m the lucky one in this deal.”

Sirius flicked him a glance—a silent Are you all right? Regulus ignored it.

He intended to step back and excuse himself before he became collateral damage in their domestic tableau. But as he turned, two things happened simultaneously: Sirius’s hand tightened on his arm, guiding him into a seat, and Lily spoke.

“We brought you something, Regulus,” she said carefully. “To thank you for looking after Mia the other day.”

“A gift!” Mia announced, darting to her mother and returning with a neatly wrapped package. Her smile was big and trusting, and Regulus could only mutter a stiff, “Thank you.”

The brown paper and red string looked achingly out of place in the cottage. He took it as though it might explode.

“You didn’t have to,” he said—and it sounded more like a warning than gratitude. Yet a small, startled part of him was touched.

Lily’s smile didn’t falter. “Maybe not. But we wanted to.”

He unwound the string. Inside was a muggle-made book, soft cover, well-loved. A Tale of Two Cities.
He blinked. The faint scent of paper drifted up—a memory of another life.

“You always had a book at school,” Lily said, almost apologetic. “I thought you might like a new one.”

Every gaze in the room pressed on him: Sirius’s too-casual grin, James’s wary watchfulness, Lily’s quiet hope.
Regulus traced the edge of the cover with his thumb.

“A Muggle story,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Lily replied steadily. “And a good one.”

He didn’t answer. His fingers tightened, just slightly, as though the object were fragile. As though he were. Half of him felt the gift was precious. The other half—the cold, familiar half—insisted he should be offended.
He never knew what to do when the voices clashed.

A sudden flare of green flame spared him a response. Nymphadora Tonks tumbled from the fireplace in a swirl of ash and limbs.

“Heya, everyo—oh!” she yelped as she fell flat on her face.

“Oh, Dora,” Andromeda sighed, stepping out behind her with effortless grace and a heavy bag. “Every single time.”

Her husband followed, gasping and laughing as Sirius and James rushed to pull Dora upright.

“We come bearing peace offerings!” Ted declared, brushing ash from his coat. “And a bit of chaos.”

The smell of soot and sweetness filled the cottage. Regulus blinked at the sudden warmth, the noise, the life—it was too much.

A sharp crack signalled Kreacher’s appearance. The elf glowered at the mess. “Filthy ashes! Filthy blood-traitors dirtying Master’s floors!”

“Oh, hush, Kreacher,” Sirius said lightly. “Take the food and set the table, you beast.”

Kreacher sniffed but obeyed.

Regulus couldn’t decide which unsettled him more—Kreacher’s muttering or Sirius’s genuine laughter with these people, as if he belonged among them. The warmth of the room pressed on him like a weight. It felt like Hogwarts again—standing on the outside, watching his brother turn toward others.

Only now, he was even more alone.

He stayed frozen, clutching the book, until Kreacher called from the dining room and the group began to drift away. Sirius ushered Nymphadora and her parents forward. Lily lingered near Regulus; James lingered near Lily, watching the two with protective caution. One look from his wife, though, and James followed the others—still uneasy.

“I hope the book didn’t offend you,” Lily said softly. “I chose it because I thought you might not know it—and because it might suit you.”

Regulus attempted a dry tone but felt himself failing. “Let me guess. A terrible character with a proper sentence?”

“Not at all.” Lily chuckled gently. “And for the record, I don’t think you’re terrible. You’re a person who made terrible mistakes—and is trying very hard to make amends.”

He had no reply for that, so he simply inclined his head. Sirius appeared, touching light on Regulus’s arm.

“You’re coming,” Sirius said. “They’re expecting you.”

With a final small smile, Lily returned to James, and they moved ahead. Regulus followed Sirius.

“I know you’re mad,” Sirius murmured. “But if I’d warned you, you wouldn’t have come.”

“So forcing me was better?” Regulus hissed.

Sirius winced but didn’t deny it. “It’s better to apologise for something worth doing. Come on—let’s try for a nice evening. These people are an easy lot. And look—” He nudged Regulus. “I know you and Prongs hate each other’s guts, but if you two just took your heads out of your arses, you could be friendly acquaintances.”

Regulus blinked. Sirius’s humour was familiar, irritating, and strangely comforting.
He said nothing—only shifted the book in his hands and followed the others.

The dining room was warm and lively. Tonks fussed with her mother’s hair. Lily and Dora chatted. James received a kiss from Mia, his expression softening into something achingly tender. The sight made something twist in Regulus’s chest—foreign and faintly familiar.

He slid into the seat between Andromeda and Sirius. Kreacher appeared to take the book.

“Garbage?” the elf whispered.

“No,” Regulus said quietly. “My room. Please.”

Kreacher hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Young Master deserves all gifts.”
Sirius and Andromeda exchanged pleased glances. Regulus pretended not to notice.

Dinner unfolded around him. He ate little, drank less, and kept his gaze on his plate. When the conversation turned to the Gringotts mission, he answered only when Sirius prompted him. The rest of the time, he listened in silence, hovering at the edge of a life he had only just begun to touch again.

Then a small hand reached toward him.

“Uncle Regus?” Mia whispered. “Do you want some?” She offered him a piece of bread.

Conversation stilled. Regulus froze. The child’s open, innocent gesture hit him like a blow. Before the tension could thicken, Sirius barreled on:

“So! Starting again with Horcruxes—the Riddle properties seem the best bet. Reg thinks the grandfather’s house is worth checking.”

“Voldemort’s grandfather?” Ted asked.

“Another piece of work,” Sirius said. “Marvolo Gaunt. Violent pure-blood fanatic—beat his daughter, terrorised the village. Wonder who the grandson takes after.”

“The house is under surveillance,” James reminded. “Wizengamot voted on it. You’re not going in, are you?”

Regulus’s fingers tightened. He wanted to speak—wanted control—but the noise, the weight of their attention, the casual talk of death pressed on him until he cracked.

“For that,” Sirius said cheerfully, “we have a special operative.” He pointed at Nymphadora. “An Auror. Her… natural clumsiness occasionally distracts the surveillance team.”

Tonks flipped him off, earning a swat from her mother.

Andromeda frowned. “It’s dangerous. What if the Aurors catch you?”

“They’ll kill us,” Regulus said quietly—and the table stilled.

“Oi!” Tonks barked. “We don’t murder people!”

Regulus arched an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised.”

Nymphadora bristled. “That’s unfair.”

“And true,” he countered.

“Reg,” Sirius murmured, not quite rebuking, not quite agreeing.

Potter added dryly, “You seem confused about which side you’re on. Oi!” Lily pinched him under the table.

Regulus’s voice cooled. “Moody took pleasure in killing prisoners.”

Andromeda gasped. “Regulus—language. Mia.”

Shame—cold, sharp—flashed through him. Too much honesty, too fast. Too many old wounds were bleeding in the public eye. He turned to look at the little girl and noticed her quiet frame and worried eyes. Bile rose in his throat.

Tonks pressed, “The Aurors treated you fairly when you turned yourself in. What are you talking about?”

Regulus’s throat closed. He stared at the tablecloth. Sirius’s hand settled briefly on his shoulder—a silent anchor.

Everything—everything in the room pressed too close.

Regulus set down his fork. “Excuse me.”

He left quietly, but the air he carried with him left a wake. He could not tell if the others were silent or speaking; the buzz on his head was deafening, and he needed to leave...

In his room, he shut the door, leaned against it, and let the silence settle like dust. He slid down to sit on the floor—not collapsing, just lowering himself slowly, deliberately, as if returning to a familiar cold.

Azkaban seeped back into his bones. The cold. The pressure. The dread.

Then he heard a soft puff. Kreacher appeared. The elf said nothing, only sat beside him, eyes filled with quiet sorrow. Perhaps Kreacher was the only blessing in this world — the only one who did not view him as a curse.

A knock at the door startled him.

“Reg… I’m sorry,” Sirius said from the other side. “I sent them home. If… if you want to talk, I’m here. I’ll wait outside until you’re ready.”

Regulus held his breath. Kreacher pressed a hand to his, grounding him.

“Take your time,” the elf rasped. “We are here when you need us. Even Master’s brother is quiet. An incredible achievement… You bring out the best in him.”

He pressed his forehead to the cold door, drawing in shallow, uneven breaths. Beyond the door, Sirius waited—or perhaps he didn’t. The silence stretched so long that Regulus began to believe his brother had given up and walked away.

Then, faintly at first, a thread of sound unfurled through the stillness: Sirius’s voice, low and a little unsteady, singing the old songs Uncle Alphard used to hum on the lazy weekends they spent with him while their parents were off on their important journeys.

Regulus could almost feel the sun-warmed grass beneath his back again, the weightless drift of clouds overhead as he and his cousins searched for shapes in their shifting edges. Andromeda and Cissy would spring up and twirl, skirts spinning as they clasped hands and laughed. Bella would lie on her stomach, chin propped on her palms, watching them with a rare, feline calm. And Sirius—Sirius would let Regulus rest his head on his stomach, or he’d pounce without warning, starting a tickle war that left them breathless with laughter.

Those were the only times, Regulus thought, when they weren’t heirs of the Noble and Ancient House of Black— they were only children.

And hearing Sirius’s voice now, threading those lost moments back into the present, something warm and fragile loosened in Regulus’s chest—tentative and unbearably tender, like dawn trying to break through storm clouds.

Chapter Text

Bloody hell, it was cold. Bloody England.

If Tonks could pick anywhere in the world to live, it would be somewhere tropical, with sand under her feet and a beach just down the road. Maybe she’d meet some cute surfer — not as good-looking as a certain tweed-wearing professor, but definitely more approachable. And dumber. And duller. And nowhere near as unfairly sexy as Remus Lupin.

The git who ran from her at every chance.

There were a lot of ways she feared wasting her life — following her mother’s etiquette book, taking a boring clerical job, giving up magic to live like a Muggle — but she had never imagined she’d do it by pining after a man.

Lately she’d tried convincing herself to give up on him, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even herself. Because deep down she knew he felt something too — and that was the problem. It wasn’t just a crush anymore, and that made it torture.

She needed to focus. She was an Auror, for Merlin’s sake — a badass one — and she couldn’t keep getting distracted like a schoolgirl. Especially not tonight.

Berating herself under her breath, she crossed the Ministry atrium where Kingsley was waiting, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning,” she said, snatching one from him and taking a long gulp.

“Whoa, easy there, Tonks. You sure you can drink and walk at the same time?” Kingsley’s booming laugh echoed off the marble walls. “I’m not patching up another accident before the mission.”

“Oh, sod off, Kings,” she said with a grin.

They left quickly, heading for the Apparition zone. A moment later, the cold air of the countryside hit her like a wall as they reappeared beside a sagging, half-rotted shack.

The first time she’d seen it, she’d thought maybe looking at Voldemort’s family home would help her understand how someone could grow that twisted. It hadn’t. It was just… empty.

Kingsley moved off to talk to the Aurors from the last shift, their low voices carrying over the brittle wind. Tonks scanned the shadows, tugging her cloak tighter. She knew Sirius, James, Remus — and Regulus — would be arriving soon.

And she’d have to distract Kingsley long enough to let them in.

Tonks forced a smile and leaned against the half-rotted fence, pretending to study the perimeter. Inside, her nerves were humming.
She could feel the others approaching — she didn’t know how, maybe the faint shift of air, maybe the instinct you got after years in the field — but she could feel them.

Kingsley took a slow sip of coffee, eyes sweeping the foggy field. “You’re jumpy tonight,” he said, tone low but teasing. “Something up?”

“Just cold,” Tonks replied too quickly, blowing into her hands. “Cold and bored.”

He gave her a look. “You’re never just bored.”

She laughed, but her pulse spiked when she caught the faint shimmer of movement beyond the trees. There. Sirius and James crouched low, Remus’s tall shape beside them. Regulus was a darker blur, moving with unnerving stillness.

Tonks shifted closer to Kingsley, forcing him to turn his back to the woods. “You ever think about quitting?” she asked, loud enough to drown the faint rustle of their approach. “Move somewhere warm, tropical—somewhere that doesn’t freeze your bloody nose off?”

Kingsley blinked at her, amused. “What, and leave you to terrorize the Ministry on your own?”

She grinned. Keep talking. Keep him distracted.

“Well, I think the beach...” she said as she pretended to slip on the mud, leaving Kingsley to laugh and catch her.

Behind him, as he joked, the shadows slipped closer to the shack.

Inside, the air was heavier — damp and old, steeped in something that wasn’t just dust.
The Gaunt shack had been left to rot, but evil had a way of staying behind.

Regulus moved with purpose. He could feel it. The Horcrux. Like a heartbeat buried under the dirt.
He knelt near the half-collapsed hearth, brushed aside the debris — and there it was. A small box, blackened by time.

His stomach twisted. “It’s here.”

Sirius stepped closer, wand raised. “That it?”

Regulus didn’t answer. He opened the box, and the air around them shuddered. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw a face flicker in the shadow of the ring — not Voldemort’s, but something worse. Something familiar.

He slammed the box shut and stood, breathing hard. “We have to destroy it. Let’s go.”

Tonks was halfway through laughing at one of Kingsley’s terrible jokes when she heard it — a sound too heavy, too sharp for the night wind. The faint hum of magic being disturbed.

Kingsley heard it too. His laughter cut off, his posture shifting instantly.
“What was that?” he said.

“Probably just the wind,” Tonks tried, too fast, too casual.

But he was already moving. “No. That was inside.”

“Kings—wait—”

He didn’t. He pushed the shack door open, wand drawn, and the light from his spell caught four figures inside.

Tonks’s heart dropped. Sirius, Remus, James — and Regulus, standing like a shadow carved from the dark, clutching a small black box to his chest.

“What in Merlin’s—” Kingsley’s voice was steel. “You’re interfering in Ministry property... And you are harbouring a fugitive!” His wand swung toward them. “Step away, now.”

Sirius raised his hands slightly. “Kingsley, mate, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” Kingsley snapped. His gaze flicked to Tonks. “You knew. You bloody knew.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Wands rose — all at once.

Tonks’s heart thudded. Sirius’s expression twisted between anger and pleading. “Kings, please. Don’t do this.”

But Regulus was already stepping forward, his wand in hand. “We don’t have time for this. If you stop us, you’ll doom everyone. I won’t let that happen.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kingsley warned. “Lower it. Now.”

The air cracked — bang! — twin spells shot past each other, slamming into the walls. Dust rained down from the rafters.

“Stop it!” Tonks shouted, throwing up a shield. “Both of you!”

But Regulus was relentless, his movements quick, controlled, practiced. Every curse was precise, not meant to kill, but to disable. He wasn’t fighting out of rage; he was protecting something — or someone.

Kingsley was stronger, though, his magic loud and bright. Sparks burst between them, blinding flashes lighting the shack in gold and green.

Tonks’s chest hurt — this was wrong. All of it.

“Kingsley!” she screamed. “Please—”

A burst of light hit Regulus square in the shoulder; he staggered, but didn’t fall. Blood bloomed dark on his sleeve, and with a grimace, he used his good arm to slam the Horcrux box against the floor.

The ring inside screamed.

Everyone froze. Even the wind seemed to stop.

The black smoke pressed against their skin, whispering, clawing. Tonks’s stomach turned; her knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.

“What in hell is that?!” Kingsley gasped.

Sirius lunged to Regulus’s side, wand raised. James stepped in front of Kingsley’s aim, his own wand steady but his voice low, urgent.

“That,” James said, “is the only way we end Voldemort. Regulus found it. He’s helping us.”

Tonks’s heart thudded. Remus’s hand closed around her arm; she met his eyes and saw the same desperation she felt. She shook her head, turning back to Kingsley.

“Kings. Please. Just listen.”

Kingsley’s wand didn’t lower. His eyes flicked between James and Regulus, then back to Tonks. “You’re on Dumbledore’s orders?”

“No,” James said immediately. “And you can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

James’s jaw clenched. “Because he wants to sacrifice my son. He thinks Harry has to fight Voldemort, as the prophecy says. But I’m ending the bastard before that.”

Silence fell, thick and shivering. Only the faint crackle of the broken ring filled the air, whispering like dying embers. Tonks felt like she was going to throw up. What a bloody mess.

Kingsley’s wand didn’t lower. His voice came out rough, controlled.
“You’re saying Dumbledore wants your son dead. That’s a hell of an accusation, Potter.”

“It’s not an accusation,” James said quietly. “It’s the truth.”

Kingsley’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “You expect me to believe the Order’s leader — the man keeping the Ministry from tearing itself apart — is plotting murder?”

Regulus stepped forward before Sirius could answer. His face was pale, blood seeping through his sleeve, but his tone was steady — almost cold.
“You’re naïve if you think Dumbledore doesn’t sacrifice people. He’s been doing it for decades. The difference is—” he took a sharp breath “—this time, it’s a child.”

Kingsley’s gaze flicked to him, sharp as a curse. “And you’re what in all this, Black? The prodigal Death Eater, suddenly reborn as a martyr?”

“Call me what you want,” Regulus said. “But I’ve seen what he hides. What Voldemort became — Dumbledore let it happen. One needed a war to build his army, the other needed enemies to make himself a saint. If you stand by him, blinded by his fame and reputation, you are a fool. And a weak man with no moral to hold others and arrest them.”

Tonks’s heart clenched. The words came out calm, but she could feel the fury beneath them — not self-righteous, but earned.

Kingsley’s grip on his wand tightened. “You think you can stand there and lecture others about morality after what you’ve done?”

Regulus met his eyes, unflinching. “I don’t claim morality. Just knowledge. And the will to fix what I helped break.”

Something flickered in Kingsley’s expression — not belief, but hesitation. A tiny crack.

Sirius stepped between them, voice low and urgent. “Enough. Kingsley, mate — you can turn us in later if you want. But right now, you know we’re right. If this thing stays hidden, Voldemort wins.”

Kingsley’s jaw worked. “You’re asking me to look the other way. To betray the Ministry and the Order. To trust him.”

Regulus gave a faint, humourless smile. “No. I’m asking you to think for yourself.”

The words landed like a curse.

For a moment, nobody moved — the wrecked shack around them buzzing with leftover magic and dust.
Then Kingsley finally lowered his wand, not out of trust, but because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Get out,” he said quietly. “Before I change my mind.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath. James nodded once.

But Regulus hesitated — just for a heartbeat. His dark eyes met Kingsley’s, a silent, electric moment between two men who despised and recognised something in each other. Tonks looked at them, mystified. She was puzzled about what she was watching.

Then he turned and walked into the night.

She approached Kingsley carefully, still breathing hard, the smell of scorched wood thick in the air.

“I’m sorry, Kings. But this was the right thing. Trust me.”

He didn’t look at her right away. His wand was still raised, his eyes fixed on the door where Regulus had disappeared. His voice, when it came, was low and dangerous.

“Tell me,” he said, turning toward her. “What the bloody hell just happened?”

He took a step closer, shadows cutting across his face. “Better yet—” his tone sharpened “—tell me everything. From the start. Because if I find out you’ve lied to me again, Tonks…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Tonks swallowed hard, nodding once.

Outside, the wind howled through the broken boards, and for a moment she thought she could still feel Regulus’s gaze lingering in the dark — sharp, unsettling, unforgettable.

Chapter Text

• 1976: Recruitment at Hogwarts via Henry Wilkes and Severus Snape. Presence in early Death Eater meetings noted. Demonstrates intelligence and discretion beyond typical student behavior.
• 1980: Confirmed Death Eater activity. Participated in multiple raids; casualties include 3 Muggles and 1 Auror. Noted for methodical approach and precision in execution.
• April 1981: Intelligence suggests possible betrayal of the Dark Lord. Reports indicate hesitation in certain operations and the potential withholding of confidential information.
• October 1981: (Halloween) Assists the Potter family in evading the Dark Lord’s attack. Voluntarily surrenders to authorities immediately following the incident. Refuses further collaboration with the Ministry.
• December 1981: Convicted; sentenced to 30 years in Azkaban. Official records highlight the high risk of future betrayal.

“Dangerous individual with resources. High risk of betrayal. Recommended ongoing observation upon release; potential asset if allegiance can be verified.”

To: Nymphadora Tonks
Subject: Gaunt Incident Debrief, Addendum

I’ve decided not to submit the full report — yet.
You’ll tell Potter and Black that if they intend to continue, they’ll do so unseen. And I want updates on their work.
If I hear of another incident, I’ll come for them myself.

— K.S.