: Prologue :

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Godric's Hollow

October 31, 1981

A cool breeze was blowing gently, making the crisp leaves dance and produce faint rustling sounds in the cold, October night. Muggle children were swarming over to different houses, their little hands weighed down by the large bags containing sweets as they displayed their most winning smiles with the intention of getting candy. People strolled through the streets laughing, the excited buzz of Halloween hanging openly in the atmosphere.

All was calm at Godric's Hollow.

Inside a small but cozy cottage, James Potter was trying and failing to feed his protesting son, Harry, some food. He was exhausted after treating to his one-and-a-half year old son's every whim, and he was swiftly losing his patience after attempting to feed his son for the past twenty minutes. He was absolutely knackered, and all he wanted was to put his son to sleep after he ate and then go off to bed himself.

"Please, mate, eat just a little bit."

"No!" giggled Harry. 'No,' was Harry's new favourite word, and James was certain that Harry had no clue what it actually meant, but just liked the sound of it.

"Harry, you have to eat now or your mother will kill me! Do you want mummy to kill daddy?"

"No!" shrieked Harry in excitement.

James grinned and pulled an assortment of silly faces, which caused his son to dissolve into fits of giggles. James promptly took the opportunity to stuff a spoonful of baby food into Harry's mouth.

"That's a good boy!" He applauded.

Just a few more spoonfuls to go, he thought, staring at the ceiling dejectedly. He glanced at the baby food with an expression of great distaste, silently admiring his son for eating the foul thing.

"Harry do you want me to buy you a new toy broomstick soon?"

"No!" said Harry happily. "Want...broooom!"

James laughed. Harry had no idea what 'no' meant.

"Then open your mouth wide, you little monster, you."

An inspiration suddenly struck him as he remembered all the times he had played substitute seeker for the Hogwarts Quidditch team whenever his seeker wasn't available. Chasing used to be his position, but he was rather fond of seeking too. He decided to commentate a mock Quidditch match, hoping that he could attract his young son's attention that way. Harry, though not yet two, was showing the signs of becoming a promising Quidditch player when he grew older— he loved zooming about with his toy broomstick, he loved James's jumper with the huge snitch on it, and he absolutely adored the various posters of Quidditch teams Sirius always brought him.

"And the Quaffle is passed to Diggory, and he takes aim and MISSES! Hard luck, Hufflepuff! Gryffindor is in the lead, 80-20. Black has aimed the bludger at a Hufflepuff chaser and - oof, narrow miss over there! There goes Potter! Look at him go! Has he spotted the snitch?

WHAT-? He has caught the snitch! Gryffindor WINS!"

Harry had listened to all this in rapt attention and had not really noticed all the food being put in his mouth. James sat back relieved and stretched. At least he did one of three baby duties right today.

The kitchen door opened and Lily walked in, her expression turning into one of surprise when she saw the empty bowl.

"You fed him!"

"I can be responsible if I want to be, Lils," grinned James, still stretching.

Lily rolled her eyes. She lifted Harry and started tickling him, causing the toddler to immediately begin giggling again.

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