The Boy-Who-Lived
James Potter sometimes hated his life. He was only 20 years old, an age you'd expect people to love, to be out and about living their lives, but not James. No, he was stuck at home because of the war. The wizarding war, that is. Some fiend, a monster of a man, named Voldemort, often referred to as 'he who must not be named' or 'you know who', decided he wanted to rule the world.
From what James could tell, he was powerful, and terrifying. Allegedly, he threw around the killing curse like it was a virus spreading. That was probably a better fate then some of the other stories he'd heard. Death Eaters that tortured innocent people for fun. Muggle baiting. Honestly, the list could go on, but James had enough on his plate at the minute.
See, while all this did bother him, it wasn't the most important thing right now, to him at least. No, the thing that made him hate life was down to the fact that he couldn't give it. James knew that this was always a possibility. Both his parents had struggled to have kids, not being able to have him, a miracle baby as they called him, until they were old, even for wizarding standards. Fleamont Potter, James' father, was the same age as the former Lord Black, Arcturus Black, who was well on in his life, before he had James with his mother.
Thoughts of his mother just hurt. The best mother a man could ask for, had passed only a few short months before due to Dragon Pox. Fleamont got a lucky escape, and a small scare, but managed to survive, but anyone could tell he wasn't doing well. It was probably why it spurred James into making this choice. When his father inevitably died, then James would be the last Potter. He refused to have the line die with him. Except, it was looking like it would.
He did the tests. Spoke with Mediwizards and Witch Doctors. They all said the same, and so did the lack of progress. Honestly, at this point, James was so close to giving up. He feared the worst. That he would die in this war and have no children to call his own. It broke his heart. Lily tried to be consoling, but she was as healthy as they come. The issue laid solely with him.
"James, your father's here." Lily's voice broke her husband from his depressing thoughts. Quite the shock too, since Fleamont hadn't left the manor since his wife's death. Not that James could blame him. He himself hadn't left his room for a week. Lily had to practically force food down his throat.
Regardless, James shook his head, pulling himself from his funk and put a smile on his face. Seeing his dad always helped cheer him up. So, he made his way out of the bathroom he stood in and down to the living room where his father sat, nursing a cup of tea, which James suspected the man had spiked with some whiskey. God, James missed that. He tried to do it himself a few times, but could never get the right amount of alcohol. Either too little or too much.
"Father, it is good to see you!" James brought his father into a tight hug, after making sure the cup was placed down. Lily would kill him if he broke a cup, and Fleamont if he wasted the whisk-tea. Fleamont gave his son a small smile, a rarity nowadays, and returned the hug, before thanking Lily for the tea, and giving them both a wink.
"It is good to see you both as well. I apologise for not visiting sooner. I appreciate you giving me time, but I think Phe would scold me when I see her in the afterlife. Gods what a women she was. She reminds me a bit of you Lillian. Headstrong, brilliant, intelligent and just the light of my life, of which I have no doubt are the very same reasons James sought after you for so long. Us Potter men love out strong women. They keep us sane, keep us humble. Gods know we need it." He muttered the last bit under his breath, remembering all the times he got reports from Minerva about his son. "I must say though, the house is lovely. Quaint, but homely."
Lily, who held a small blush upon her rosy cheeks, smiled fondly.
"Thank you. It took some effort, but we managed to make it ours. The neighbours are lovely, and it helps that there are other wizarding families. Imagine my surprise when Bathilda Bagshot herself came knocking with baked treats. I almost fainted."
"More like shoved you copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' in her face. You're lucky she took it with pride." James couldn't help but tease. Lily poking her tongue out just made his grin grow.
"Ah, dear Bathilda. I'm glad to hear she's doing well, it seems. As for Godric's Hollow, it's not surprising about the amount of magic families. I mean, our own ancestors used to live here, made it their home. Some are buried in the graveyard. We have a spot for us. Right next to the Pev-" Fleamont stopped himself from talking, then took a deep breath. He looked almost reminiscent. "That reminds me of why I am here tonight. Minus seeing my son and his beautiful wife, of course."
James rolled his eyes, though kept his grin. He was glad to see his father doing better, he sometimes feared the worst. However, he would admit, he was curious where his father was going with this.
"Have I ever told you the tale of our family? How we got our family magic?"
It had been a week since Fleamont Potter had regaled James and Lily Potter with the tale of the Potter ancestry. Truthfully, it was hard to believe, after all, talking of them was mind blowing. James flat out refused to believe it at first. Did he follow the customs? Yes, but more out of respect for their culture. He never actually believed it.
Now? He had no idea what to believe. The reason he exists, his birth, was thanks to them or rather him. God, James really needed a drink. However, the light in the dark, or brighter light in a room full of light? Oh who cares for analogies! He may have a way to have a child! If it worked for his father, then it would work for him!
Lily was surprisingly open to it. James thought he might have to convince her, but it seemed that he wouldn't need to. He wasn't complaining mind you, but he was a little sad he couldn't use the speech he had prepared. Oh well, for another time.
In the meantime though, that meant he could focus his time on preparing other things. Namely, research. How does one care for a child? Couldn't be to hard. Right?
A year had passed. James' theory had been correct, only with a few extra... benefits. Yeah, benefits. Truthfully, from what he was told, he wasn't sure what else to call them. Some may call them a curse, but that baby, oh the sweet baby Potter wouldn't see them as such. James wouldn't allow it. He'd ensure the young one saw his abilities as a gift.
Though, he hadn't been entirely correct. Gods, James was struggling. His beautiful baby boy, with his small tuft of black hair, a small patch of white, and his heterochromatic eyes. That had certainly been a surprise when the baby Potter came into the world. One eye was his mothers, a bright green that seemed to shine, the other was a honey yellow colour, no doubt from him. Honestly, James didn't mind it.
They had called him Harry. Harry James Potter. Both from James own grandfather and Lily's father.
They had been with him for six months now. He developed quicker than most children, certainly faster then the Longbottom child, who'd been born a meer day before. They were celebrating the new year when they got the news.
Albus had shown up at their door, fear and worry on his face. They feared the worst, that someone had died. Perhaps it would have been easier if that was the case. He spoke of something that James refused to think of, let alone speak about. They didn't know the full story, they didn't want to. Only one part mattered. So, it was decided between them, as well as the Longbottoms, to go into hiding. The fidelius charm would be applied. They'd be safe. They had to be. For Harry.
It was Harry's second halloween. They had wanted to dress him up, but due to their position, they couldn't. Sirius had offered to get something for them, but they decided to just have a quiet evening. It was Samhain. So, they had plans to give prayers to those who had passed, wishing them the best. An uneventful evening. Harry would obviously not understand, and that was fine. They'd teach him about it when he was older. He was far to young to understand death after all.
Unfortunately, fate, it seemed, had other plans.
James felt it first. A ward cast around the cottage. It felt cruel and cold. It promised the end. It appeared that they were betrayed. And then, there was a knock at the door, followed by a high pitched laugh. Voldemort had found them.
"Lily! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!" James had never prayed so hard in his life. He practically begged him to help them, to keep Harry safe no matter the cost. He had no idea if his prayer was heard. He feared the ward prevented it from doing so. All he could do was hope.
The door, enchanted to withstand a muggle bomb, was thrown from its hinges. The monster, who held a cruel grin, stepped through the threshold easily. He said no words, just raised his wand and fired off a single unforgivable curse. James, obviously didn't just stand there. With what little space the hallway allowed, he dodged out the way.
Unfortunately, this only proved his down fall. He caught his foot on something, causing him to fall to the ground. He knew that he would never be able to escape, so he made one final choice. He'd go out fighting!
James raised his own wand and called upon powers he'd had since he was a child, powers he assumed to be some sort of family magic, and in a way he was right. Just not in the way he thought. He channeled all his power and sent a black curse at the fiend, putting his own life force on the line. He felt it all leave his body, his very soul leaving, and let the curse fly.
It slammed into the Dark Lord, and with fading vision, James saw the monster stumble backwards. He was sad, but he was eager to see his mother again. He hoped she was proud. He hoped his father would take care of Lily and Harry.
Lily had barricaded herself inside Harry's nursery. She couldn't stop Harry's tears and crying. Not that she could blame him for doing so. She felt a strong curse fall around them, and she almost certainly knew her husband was dead. She was on her own now. Yet, truthfully, she had no idea if she would survive this. All she knew, was that Harry would. He'd have to.
While James was studying his own way to give life, Lily was finding ways to protect it. Her studies only increase when Harry was born. She'd give up anything for him, just to see him live. No matter the cost, and now, she feared she knew what that cost was. But it didn't matter. He gently cut a small lightning bolt into Harry's head, wishing she hadn't left her wand downstairs, then cut some more rune into his crib. Hopefully it would be enough.
The door was suddenly blasted into splinters! She shielded her son from them, but felt a few lodge into her back.
"Ah, Mrs Potter and baby Potter. How wonderful. Be a dear and stand aside. I have not come for you." Voldemort held his wand at Lily. She didn't understand why he hadn't just killed her. She hadn't moved, obviously.
"No, please, not Harry! Kill me, but spare Harry!" She begged, playing it up a little.
"Silly girl, Stand aside! I won't tell you again!"
"No!"
Voldemort fumed and with a whisper of "Avada Kedavra." The spell hit Lily Potter. She was dead in a second, her corpse falling beside Harry's crib. Voldemort spared her now more time. Sure, Snape would be upset, but he saved him from a waste of time, though, defied until the end, he could respect that. Both Potter parents. The younger Potter heir actually made him stumble and feel weakened. However, it wouldn't matter. After today, he would win!
"Goodbye, baby Potter." Once more, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse. Yet, the curse stopped just shy of the boys head. Voldemort frowned, and then the curse seemed to turn itself around, and Voldemort for the first time in a long time, felt fear. The curse rebounded and struck his body. Voldemort was vanquished, and the Boy-Who-Lived was born.