James and Lily
The first time the healer gives him his baby, James Potter feels the breath shoot out of his mouth in absolute surprise. Black tufts of messy hair are the first thing that catches his eyes, so dark and fluffy like his own.
It doesn’t take long until he notices the brilliant green eyes that stare deep into his when his baby boy first opens his eyes. Harry blinks long and wide at his father, his tiny mouth open in confusion only a baby is capable of showing. He has his mother’s eyes; James is sure of it.
James soon realises that he has been starring at his baby for ten minutes now, and though his child is only so young, Harry seemed to look awkward, encouraging James to actually interact with his son.
He starts simple with little, silly noises- blowing raspberries and exaggerated kisses, all things that seem to make his son laugh. That joyous giggle that his parents had told him would make his heart explode into little fireworks, something which he never believed until he had this bundle of cloth in his hands.
He smiled like James as well, that same cheeky grin James had seen countless of times in the mirror. It looked better on his son, he thought.
“So,” his wife asked from the bed, still breathless and red in the face, “what do you think?” she asked, gesturing towards their baby. James grinned as he came over and stood by Lily, brushing her sweaty, red hair from her face, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “He’s pretty great.”
Lily looked at Harry with adoring eyes as he was placed back into her arms, “He looks just like you, you know?”
“Well, apart from the eyes,” James corrected her, focusing on the big yawn his baby was currently experiencing, “he’s got your eyes.”
Lily seemed to consider this, tilting her head in a calculating move, just waiting for Harry to open his eyes once more, and when he did, she gasped, a wide smile splitting her face, “Oh, so he does!”
James chuckled at his wife’s reaction, joining her in fawning over their newborn son, running soft fingers over the small spots of hair. “Do you mind if i take a quick nap?” Lily asked, though she already knew what James’ answer would be as she settled further into the pillow.
With Lily now asleep, all James could do was hold his baby close to his chest, whispering gentle words of comfort into tiny ears, and gazing into eyes so similar to the ones closed in the hospital bed.
Petunia
She didn’t know the Potter man as well as she should’ve. She didn’t return his handshake when he offered her one at the restaurant, nor did she laugh at any of his albeit funny jokes, nor did she offer to split the bill with him, and she definitely hadn’t accepted the invitation to their wedding.
However, she did know her sister- granted, she didn’t know her as well as she used to, but she would never forget those eyes. How could she forget those eyes when they also belonged to the boy living in the cupboard under her stairs?
She saw her sister in the way Harry’s eyes would widen in fear as Vernon yelled at him, the humour in them when her son made a fool of herself, the anger in them when her sister-in-law would talk badly about Lily and James.
How often had she seen those eyes on her sister do the same thing?
And though she didn’t know Potter personally, Petunia could definitely recognise the similarities that he bore to his son. He had the same messy hair, lanky body but strong shoulders, and that damn cheeky smile.
She knew she was being petty; she knew she was, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing that boy in her house every day was ripping her apart, a constant reminder of what she had lost and what she could’ve had.
Her sister back with her, safe and happy in there home. But that wasn’t coming back, and neither was her sister.
And what was she left with? Her nephew who was the spitting image of her brother in law and dead sister. Those horrid memories locked away behind the door of the cupboard under the stairs.
Hagrid
Perhaps Hagrid hadn’t known James and Lily as well as others did, but he knew them well enough to know that they would throw a fit if they ever found out how Lily’s sister and her horrid husband had been treating their son.
In one of the few conversations Hagrid had with James just the two of them, the now deceased man had told him that he wanted to get his four-month-old son into Quiditch.
“Do yer not think the boy might be a bit young for that, yet?” he had asked, watching James stare happily as Sirius chased a baby Harry around on his new toy broom.
The dark- haired man just laughed, shaking his head in disagreement, “Not at all, look, he’s better than Pads already!” And, yes James was right, the little legs had moved round a sharp corner so fast, it had caused Sirius to fall onto him bum whilst trying to chase him.
The man didn’t look particularly upset by this though, instead, getting straight back up, and hoisting the baby onto his knee, doing the same babbling Hagrid caught James doing a lot. Hagrid smiled cheerfully,
“Well, he takes after you in the end, I’m sure he’ll be a great player.” He, as gently as his great size would allow, pat James on the back, wincing when even that sent his stumbling forward slightly.
“In fact,” Hagrid continued, now studying the baby’s dark hair, “he may take after yer in more ways than one.” James looked up at him with a questioning look, until he spotted the way Hagrid was looking at Harry. “Oh yeah,” he affirmed, “you should see his eyes though. He’s got his mother’s eyes alright.”
And as he looked at Harry now, he saw exactly what James meant. The boy seemed to have inherited his mother’s shocking emerald eyes, which, Hagrid quickly realised, were wide in fear.
“Hello Harry,” he greeted, trying to soothe the boy’s worried expression, “it’s been a while since I last saw you.” And soon, those eyes turned sharp with curiosity, the same wonder Lily had whenever she was looking at a problem that particularly vexed her. Hagrid didn’t think he could do this.
Mcgonagall and Snape
Mcgonagall never expected to find herself so happy when she once again saw that shock of brilliant black hair.
Of course, now that hair belonged to the head of a different boy, one who was quieter and smaller than his father had ever been, traits he most certainly gained from his mother.
Seeing that black hair used to be an omen of trouble, seeing it speeding down the hallways, or being thrown back in laughter or being bent down when Potter finally used that brain of his to continue with his studies. And what an amazing student he was- he had excelled in her classes, even if he was a menace outside of it.
But seeing this same hair on Harry was different. Unlike his father, he tried to smooth the wild hair down instead of running a hand through it, further messing it up like James.
There were other things too, like how Harry’s fringe fell in his right eye instead of the left like James’, how Harry’s hair had a slightly reddish undertone, signs of his mother’s genes peeking through.
It was like having James Potter alive and well back in Hogwarts. And wasn’t that just marvellous?
Snape wouldn’t agree with her sentiment.
He saw right through the boyish charms of James Potter, and he would certainly see right through his spawn. And Snape would’ve been more than happy to continue through the years like that. If only he didn’t have her eyes.
The same eyes that looked at him with tears in them as she begged him to stay away from that crowd, the anger and confusion that whirled through them when he called her mu- that, showing her once and for all that he had chosen his side.
If only she knew.
Remus
If Remus was more awake, was more conscious of what was going on around him, he would’ve seen reason, and would not have come to the conclusion that he had. But, alas, sleep still fogged his mind, and he came up with the most reasonable thought at the time. He was currently sharing a carriage with James Potter.
Actually, to be more clear, he believed he was in the company of a ghost, he was still logical enough to remember that this couldn’t be James Potter. He was dead. Long dead, buried in that cosy cemetery in Godric’s Hollow. Remus would know, it wasn’t long ago that he had gifted the ground there with flowers- lilies to be exact.
“Evans, you’re not seriously telling me that your favourite flowers are lilies?” Sirius asked, leaning on the table in bewilderment.
For her part, Lily only rolled her eyes, leaning back on her chair, “Why wouldn’t they be, they’re sweet, beautiful and very easy to care for.”
James removed his arm from around her shoulder to get a better look at her. “But you’re only saying that because that’s your name. If your name was Rose, this would be a very different conversation,” he reasoned, ignoring Sirius’ grateful gesturing.
“Well, that fact definitely helps,” she blushed, giggling sweetly when James pressed a playful kiss to her cheek.
From across the table, Sirius gave him a fake disgusted look. Remus only smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
The dementor attack suddenly pulled him away from his memories, throwing his full attention into the situation at hand. He fought it off easily, although it made him surprised that after all this time, he still had it in him. It was after the foul creature left that he got his first proper look at the boy, and how much he had changed in thirteen years.
But not his appearance, never his appearance.
Unfortunately for Remus, he still had his black hair and green eyes. The exact replica of all that Remus had lost that fateful night. Finding it once again to be too much for him, Remus quickly hurried to find the train driver.
Doing what he was best at, running away from the ghosts of Lily and James.
Sirius
The first time Sirius laid eyes on Harry, he immediately knew that this was James and Lily’s baby, making a joke about a lack of infidelity which Lily glared at him for and James stifled a laugh.
And although he made jokes about it, he meant it with all his heart, the kid was a carbon copy of his best mate, with the exception of his green eyes.
The first time Sirius laid eyes on Harry after thirteen years, it was dark and foggy, obscuring most of his view. No matter, he could still make out the messy hair which had somehow grown darker since from when he was a baby, and the green still stood out against the black night.
Though he was supposed to be on the run, having to hide in hidden corners, dense forests, dark alleys- Sirius still took the time to watch Harry from afar.
Unsurprisingly, Harry looked more like James in the daylight. Something which he should have known, but still sent electric bolts through his heart.
And despite having his godson’s wand pressed to his throat, Sirius could only marvel at how much he looked like James when he was angry.
Though that hardness that drew his eyebrows down was all Lily. How many times had he been on the receiving end of that look? But that glare softened just like James’ had, into this understanding and all-knowing look, like he knew exactly what was bothering you before you spilled your guts to him. And Sirius may have been on Lily’s bad side often, but he was always on James’s good side.
He saw his brother in everything but blood when Harry convinced them to leave Peter alive, saw him in the way Harry justified his reasoning, how James would hate to see his best friends turn into murderers over some stupid rat.
People will say that Harry encapsulated his mother’s good qualities in everything he did- his patience, kindness, intelligence; but sometimes, Sirius thought he was the only one who saw James in Harry in things other than appearance- his recklessness, loyalty, humour, understanding, sport ability.
They will look at this boy and say that he has his mother’s eyes.
But to Sirius, Harry was entirely his father’s.
Dumbledore
Like many others, Albus believed that the only thing Harry had inherited from his father, was his looks, and everything else, well that was all Lily.
However, it appeared that Harry had in fact inherited his father’s absolute rage.
“Look at me!” Harry had shouted, sweat still dripping from his temple, mind still riddled with images of snakes and hallways and futures and spells.
"Look at me! Look at me when you tell me that there is absolutely nothing you can do to ensure that my baby makes it to his first birthday!” James had screamed, slamming his hands on Albus’ oak desk, eyes wide in fury. Seeming to realise what he had said, James Potter drew a deep breath, walking away from the desk to pace around the room.
Albus let him, giving him the silence, he desperately needed. He came back, standing in front of, but never touching, the desk.
“Albus,” he whispered desperately, “I can’t lose him. Not my little boy. I only just got him.”
Dumbledore is sure that if James could see him now, he would be worse off than a few bad words.
Though it was Lily’s love that had protected Harry his whole life, not even Albus could deny the absolute ferocity with which James looked after his son. The tight hold he always had when he was holding him, how he would never leave him unsupervised for more than a few moments, how he would always fall asleep only after he was sure Harry was okay. Dumbledore also saw this in the way Harry looked after his friends.
How protective he got over Ronald, Hermionie, Ginerva, Neville and countless others. If there had to be a trait Harry inherited from his father, Albus was glad it was this one.
+ James and Lily
Laying eyes on his son once again, felt as though he had been transported all the way back to that little hospital room all those years ago, holding his bundle of joy for the first time.
James saw the way Lily’s eyes filled with unshed tears, gazing at the baby that they had both sacrificed their lives for, and if James had to do it again, he would in a heartbeat.
His son was obviously older than the last time he saw him, he no longer had that tiny freckle above his lip, and his hair was even wilder and crazier.
But he was still his son. The same son he had shown little magic tricks to, the same son he had given plushies to, the same son he carried to bed every night, the same son he had given his life for. Only this son had lived a lifetime without him.
But as he spoke to his son for the first time, as his son recognised his parents for the first time in seventeen years, one thing was clear. He was still the twin of his father, but he had his mother’s eyes.