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( October '81 )
Harry was dressed in a little quidditch uniform (Gryffindor, of course). James had insisted that he be dressed as such, not taking no for an answer — he had been insisting for months. The insistence had even more backing once Sirius had visited a couple of weeks ago and bought along a tiny baby broom for Harry to float around their small home in — after that, James was a goner and there was no bringing him back from the idea.
Lily had pitched plenty of other ideas — pumpkin, cat, a mini-potioneer costume she once was years ago in a halloween store in Diagon Alley. But no, James had insisted and pestered her over and over again until here she was, fixing the little crimson red hood on the back of Harry's quidditch uniform. The one year old gurgled in her arms, giggling when she tickled him as she fixed his costume.
Lily had to admit (though she would never say this to James, because forbid that his ego got any higher than it already was) but Harry was a spitting image of her husband through and through — from his curly black hair that had grown rapidly, to the pale, rosy cheeks and the mischievous little smile that graced his face. His mannerisms were the same too, whether or not you would first see them. On first sight, this baby was the most gentle one in the world, with innocent eyes and a gurgling smile — then he got on his little quidditch broom and flew around the house, destroying fine china in the process and suddenly Lily remembered whose son he really was.
But those eyes — no matter how much he acted like James Potter, and how much he looked like James Potter, those eyes remained the eyes that came from her. Green like the dewy trees in the forest after a fresh rainfall, green like the grass on the ground, and green like the leaves on the trees. The brightest green you could fathom, and the darkest green you could imagine, those eyes came from her and her alone — from her, from her father and from his father and so on and so forth. Those were the same eyes that had stared at her as a little baby, playing peekaboo with her as a toddler and reassuring her the night before her first year at Hogwarts.
James Potter could claim to be the reason behind every other part of his son, but those eyes remained an Evans family trait that Harry would carry with him.
The click of a camera pulled Lily out of her reverie, as she glanced up at the proprietor behind the act. Her husband stood in the entrance to the nursery, holding a small silver camera in his hands and grinning. He had insisted on wearing his own quidditch robes this Halloween as well, claiming that he and Harry just had to be matching. It was by Lily's own luck that he could not find them, and later came to the realization that they were in his childhood room at his parents' home.
"There's the number one future chaser for the Holyhead Harpies!" He chanted, lifting Harry out of Lily's arms and throwing him up in the air lightly — so lightly and so barely, but Lily still cringed with worry. "...Harry, Harry, Harry!"
"What makes you think he'll be a chaser?" Lily questioned, raising an eyebrow at him as she tidied up the area where she had been getting Harry ready. "He could just as well be a beater or a keeper, or even a seeker."
James scoffed, shaking his head as he stared down at Harry before pulling him up to his chest so he could speak to the baby. "Would you listen to your mama? She thinks you'll be a seeker — what rubbish. You've got chaser blood in you!"
Lily shook her head, a smile ghosting her face as she watched her husband continue to chant out their baby's name, placing the child on his little toy broom on the floor and sitting down to play with him. She scoffed slightly when he bought out the mini quaffle that one of the Order members, Keenan, had gifted Harry — James would rather die before he watched Harry become anything but a chaser.
A knock on the door broke James out of whatever argument he was about to start with Lily over quidditch, and with a quick laugh he deposited Harry in her arms and headed towards the door. "That's probably Sirius, he promised he'd bring by some candy so Harry could have some semblance of a first halloween," He muttered.
Lily laughed, nudging him towards the stairs. Once his silhouette disappeared, she turned to face Harry who was against her hip, placing him in his crib. "In the end he'll eat all the candy, and there'll be none left for us," She muttered to her son teasingly, smoothing down his hair. Harry gurgled out a laugh, his chubby cheeks turning rosy.
Then, Harry's laugh was covered by the sound of glass breaking, of knocking and banging and screaming. From the depths of the noise, she heard the sound of James' voice downstairs, booming and full of fury.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"
James was cut off by the sound of laughter, and a scream, a familiar flash of blue that had his eyes widening, and then another flash of green— then, silence.
Lily did not take Harry and go.
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she speaks! welcome back to yet another revamp! this will be the last (i swear). bit of a prologue in this chapter, but next one will be longer and we'll be up and running!
