Chapter Text
What if He takes His place in history
With all the prophets and the kings
Who taught us love and came in peace
But then the story ends, what then
-Prince
***
Godric’s Hollow was beautiful once. The landmark of his family’s ancestry and name, where his great-great-great ad infinitum whatever settled away from London where people like him—wizard, brown-skinned, different — left alone to their own devices. Long before Hogwarts was even an idea.
His parents would take him here sometimes, to visit in the winter months where the snow was crisp and clean, and they didn’t have to hide or pretend to be muggles. And his father could work his potions and his mother could visit with the neighbours and James could play outside wherever he wanted.
He never expected the little cottage to be so oppressive. To be a sign of the coming end. The prophesy loomed over them, like the Sword of Damocles, ready to destroy everything he’d worked for. The love of his life, his world, the Order. All of it.
James took in a shaking breath and pressed his forehead to the glass, leaving a foggy imprint. He could hear Lily and Harry in the kitchen, Lily mixing up something, Harry babbling away his baby nonsense—a mixture of English and Tamil which he’d sort of adopted as his present method of communication. Most of it made no sense in any language, but the sweetness of his innocence, of his development, took the edge off things.
Even if Harry’s existence alone was terrifying. Not just because of who was after him, but the very idea that James, at the tender age of twenty-one, had managed to create life inside of Lily. He thought back to the arrogant little shit boarding the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He thought of the little toe-rag ruffling his hair and trying to goad Evans into a date at Hogsmeade, and never did those children think he’d be here right now, raising his own.
James didn’t even dare to think about Harry’s first day at Hogwarts, because right now there was no guarantee Hogwarts would exist by the time all of this was through. It would end with either Voldemort’s death, or the death of his son, and James couldn’t even begin to contemplate the latter. Maybe that was unwise, unsafe, because the best fighter looked at the situation from all angles. Like a chess board, he had to think ten moves ahead, he had to see every scenario.
But he’d never really been good at chess. That had been Sirius’ thing. Sirius, who was…
James couldn’t begin to know where. They’d gotten a single owl from him with Harry’s birthday present last time they’d spoken. And only before that when they’d swapped secret keepers because Sirius had been so afraid.
James hadn’t wanted to do it, hadn’t been sure Peter was the best idea but Sirius was dead-set and James took one look at his haunted eyes and refused to say no. Lily had been more terrified than James had ever seen her as they watched Peter apparate away. They closed the door to the cottage and knew that until this was over, they wouldn’t be opening it again.
James pushed himself away from the window, hoping to leave at least a piece of his fear to sit in the sill without him. He wanted to carry a smile into the kitchen as he kissed his wife and his son. So many people were dead, so many more dying, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Even a jaunt outside was out of the question, and Dumbledore had his cloak, so he was well and truly trapped.
The full moon had been three nights before, and Lily had come downstairs to find him watching it from the window, crying silently knowing Moony was out there—somewhere, alone.
“Hey, love,” he murmured, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arm loosely round her belly, feeling over-protective of the life growing inside of her. They’d only just found out, and James couldn’t even begin to process what this might mean because in all reality, they could be trapped here for years.
This was no way for his children to grow up.
“Appa!” Harry cried.
James kissed the side of Lily’s neck, taking one full extra second to let himself feel everything before pushing it aside and turning to his son with a grin. “Did you eat all your veg?” he demanded, pointing to the small tray with what looked like the remnants of mashed up carrots and potatoes. He was fairly sure they hadn’t started out that way.
Harry grinned up at him, toothy and sweet, smacking his spoon on the edge of the tray. “Appaaaaa,” he said, then dropped his spoon and made grabby hands at James.
James couldn’t have resisted if he’d wanted to. Not for a moment. Not those sweet, round cheeks, and those wide, imploring eyes with Lily’s colour staring straight at him. His hands hooked under Harry’s arms, and he swung him wide, spinning him and delighting in the soft, sweet baby giggle.
“Fwy me appa, fwy!”
James zoomed him like a broom, through the kitchen, then into the lounge where they plonked onto the floor in front of the sofa. Harry rolled onto his back, his chubby legs sticking in the air as he giggled, and James darted forward to tickle his sides until Harry rolled away and shouted, “Okay all done!”
James relented, and when Harry toddled to the coffee table for his wand, James snatched it from his hand and made a rainbow shower of colour fall over the boy’s head. Harry laughed, falling onto his behind, kicking his feet a little as the puffs of colour hit the ground, then disappeared.
“Again, again!”
James did it again, and Harry laughed. He glanced up to see Lily stood in the door way, her hand cupped over the small of her stomach which hadn’t yet begun to swell. But he knew his next child was in there, counting on them to stay strong, to stay alive, to cup their hands round the flickering flame of new life and see it into this world a formed child which would be loved and cared for as much as any two parents possibly could.
James sighed and pulled Harry close, between his legs and let the boy play with a few smoke animals he conjured.
“I think it’ll be an early night for me,” Lily confessed. She walked into the room, sitting on the edge of the armchair. She looked a little peaky, her freckles standing out more than usual which was a sure sign of early pregnancy nausea. “I’m shattered and I didn’t even do anything today.”
“You looked after this one,” James said, giving Harry another tickle. “That’s like finishing the tri-wizard tournament in a single go, babe.”
Lily snorted. “Sure.”
“And anyway…”
In years to come, when James would recount this moment, he wasn’t ever sure what he was going to say. He was just babbling. And the words died on his tongue as suddenly the air shifted. It was almost like a storm, the way the pressure in the room made their ears pop, and the door flung open, letting a heavy bout of wet wind cascade through the lounge.
James was on his feet, Harry curled protectively in his arms, Lily behind him reaching for her wand.
James expected one man—more a creature than a human. In a way, he’d been expecting him the entire time. He turned, shoving Harry into Lily’s arms. “Lily, it’s him. Take Harry and run. I’ll hold him off.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Lily screamed over another burst of wind. “James, I’m not…”
“Lily,” he begged.
“Potter.”
James turned at a voice he’d thought long-dead. Strangled, barely-there, but audible above the howling wind. A wizard James didn’t think he’d see ever again, stumbling into the room with burnt, torn robes and a massive gash across his cheek, his throat nothing more than purple scars.
“Regulus?” The name tumbled from James’ lips before he could stop himself. And it was him—Regulus Black. His hair a tangled mess, and his eyes wide and haunted. But it was him. James would never forget his face.
“You have to go. Pettigrew gave you up.”
It was only at the mention of Peter’s name did James recall that they were there in secret, that no one—no one—could have known unless.
“Pettigrew gave you up, and he’s on his way. You have to run. Now,” Regulus hissed. He rushed forward then, and pushed a parcel into James’ hand. “And give this to Dumbledore. If you want anyone to survive this, it must reach him.”
James wasted no time in grabbing Lily’s arm, and apparating out of the cottage.