Beyond the Door

IX

Finally, Harry thought. He wanted to know more about the three who were... apparently... supposedly... his—

Harry swallowed. It was so strange. And with who? With who?

He shook his head.

"Hell, nearly bored myself to death there," James carped, propping his hands on his hips once he got to the front.

"Too bad you didn't." Albus purposely knocked his shoulder into James' protruding elbow.

"Alright, you two, for once try to keep—...all that, to yourselves," Teddy tiredly chastised.

"You know, Teddy, I bet if you actually got a life—"

"James!" Lily glared at her brother. No one messed with her Teddy.

James. Every time he heard his name, Harry's chest squeezed. He stared, transfixed.

"Alright, alright," James yielded. "I was just joking."

"Hurry up already!" George yelled through cupped hands—which was entirely unnecessary being as he was about ten feet away from them.

"Keep your hat on, Uncle George, blimey." James unnecessarily cleared his throat.

And before anyone could even process that he had called George his uncle, James promptly dove into his introduction.

"James Sirius Potter's the name, and spittin's the game." James coolly revealed.

"Teddy, I want to go home."

"I know, Al. So do I."

"Why is he spitting?" Arthur dumbfoundedly asked his children, who were more focused on the fact that James was Harry's future son.

Harry, even though he knew James must be his, dropped his jaw at hearing his whole name strung together.

Sirius grinned brightly, and Teddy thought he saw his eyes mist over. "Oh, Harry," he happily croaked. "You've no idea how honored I am, my boy."

Harry blushed, bashful of Sirius' clear adoration and gratefulness towards him. "Of course, Sirius. You're the closest thing I have to..." he trailed off, suddenly very aware of his quiet audience. Harry cleared his throat lightly and said no more, but he smiled at Sirius, who had to refrain from really crying.

During all his twelve years in Azkaban, all he thought about was Harry—how was he doing?—was he liking Hogwarts?—did he look more like James or more like Lily?—was he happy?

He had so many regrets, so many that he nearly let death take him; but the thought of Harry kept him alive.

James watched his father with an uncharacteristically soft expression. He felt heartbroken for young Harry, who didn't know that Sirius would be ripped from him so soon.

"Ah, anyway," Sirius cleared his throat, appreciative of the friendly pat Remus gave him. "Continue, James." There was a new sort of softness in his voice as he said James' name.

"Well, was a Gryffindor—of course." He shot his brother a teasing look, to which he rolled his eyes at. "I'm nineteen, and was Quidditch captain for three years—probably the best captain Hogwarts has ever seen," he bragged thoughtfully.

Teddy rolled his eyes.

"What, you disagree?" James challenged.

"You know I do."

"Oh yeah? Then who was better?—and don't say—"

"Me." Teddy smirked. "But shut up about that and carry on, James, I don't wanna spend all day on the topic of Quidditch."