Chapter 1
James Sirius Potter was born on July 16, 2005 to Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley just as the sun broke through the horizon, bathing the hitherto tumultuous and inexplicable thunderstorm sky with a warm golden light. The same warm glow that he bathed everyone around him in.
From the second they had been aware of his existence, he had changed his parents' life, filling the dark holes left behind from the war with the pure hope and joy that his existence meant it was over, that they could start a new chapter of their life. He very rarely cried, he spent his life laughing, embodying the very thing his name sakes cherished the most.
He was the warmth of the sun, the comfort of the fireplace, the joy in a well meaning prank, the nostalgia of a perfect summer's day. He was the laughter in his mother’s eyes and the wholeness in his father’s soul. He was the comfort in his Uncle Ron’s heart that his best friend had made it through everything he didn’t deserve, he was the pride in his Aunt Hermione’s mind, that they were making a better world for the next generation. He was the proof for his older brother Teddy, that he still had family, that he was family. And when his siblings were born, he was their shelter.
From a young age James Sirius noticed the happiness he imparted in his family, how with one hug, Teddy’s melancholia evaporated, how his incessant questions chased away the shadows in his father’s eyes, how his harmless pranks made his mother smile as she remembered her fallen, but never forgotten brother, how with a quiet shush and a quip his siblings forgot their tears and delighted in his antics. He noticed and every second he devoted himself to just being there for them.
He learnt about his namesakes, he learnt about James Potter,his grandfather, shining as bright and warm as the sun, who had become an animagus at 15 only to give comfort to his werewolf friend, how at 16 he took in his all in but blood brother from his abusive home, how at 17 he stepped up and became a beacon of hope in his house, how he had matured and turned from a childish bully into a great and good man. A man who stood against a monster just to give his wife and son a few precious life saving seconds.
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off-”
He learnt about Sirius Black, a tempest of a man, always a whirlwind, reckless, ruthless, loyal. Who survived a house no one could have expected him to. Who stood proud, tall, happy, denying any and all who tried to squash him. Who at 21 had been ready to raise a child, giving up his life as he had known because that baby was his everything, his whole life. And when he had been denied, when he had lost his final reason to live, had decided to take his revenge on the rat who had destroyed his family.
“Give Harry to me, Hagrid, I’m his godfather, I’ll look after him—”
He learnt what these two men meant to his father, what an honour it had been to be named after two of the greatest men. And he stood tall and proud, determined to do them proud.
But, but, in a deep dark part of him, a seed of doubt unfurled, wondering if he could truly, ever live up to them? How could he measure up to the ghosts of men casting shadows over him all his life? How could he ever truly shine if all everyone ever saw when they looked at him were two men who never got to truly live? He kept these doubts buried deep, somewhere underneath all those smiles and pranks and loyalty, they festered, digging in, clawing, taking root into the very soul of his being.
James Potter and Sirius Black.
James and Sirius.
James&Sirius.
James Sirius.
Two halves of a whole, two brothers in all but blood, twins in everything, devoted to one another. Now united in one human being.
"Naturally. Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"
Sometimes at night he would lay down hating his name.
Sometimes at night he lay down wondering if they were proud of him, the original James and Sirius, if he was living up to them. Cocooned by the canopy of the red in the Gryffindor dorms was the only time he ever let his doubts plague him.
Sometimes he wondered if his dad saw him, or his lost family.
Sometimes he wondered if his dad was proud of him, it had been hard enough being the firstborn of Harry James Potter, without having the added burden of being named after heroes who had given everything for their families, who had given everything for his father. He wondered when he would have given enough.
Sometimes he felt if he would ever be enough.
Sometimes he felt like screaming, just screaming at the world, at them, at everyone to just stop asking stuff of him. He wasn’t a brilliant transfiguration prodigy, he couldn’t dream up pranks so extraordinary they would astound everyone at the drop of a hat, he didn’t breeze through life with reckless grace. He couldn’t keep giving himself to everyone around him again and again and again without a break, he didn’t have it in him to devote himself wholly to his family.
Sometimes he felt like a fraud.
He wondered what it said about him when he felt jealous of his siblings sometimes. When in the middle of the night, Lily crawled into his bed with her doubts about her name and he had to tell her she was worthy, and she was, bright wonderful Lily, but he wondered if he would ever uphold his own name as well as his younger sister had.
He had never had anyone to reassure him about his own doubts.
When Al had been sorted into Slytherin and he had found him retching in the boys loo in the middle of the night because the whispers of manipulator and traitor had gotten too much, when the voices in his head had told him he wasn’t good, he told him to screw anyone who saw the ghosts of two men who didn’t deserve his respect and to change his name if he hated it. His parents had flooed over the next day with guilty tears in their eyes, a thousand apologies and forms for Al to change his name to anything he wanted once James Sirius had informed him of it. The next week Albus Severus Potter had become Charlus Regulus Potter and he had never seemed lighter.
He could never change his name, how could he when his namesakes had been heroes, had been people who had given everything for their families and beliefs?
He had been sorted into Gryffindor after a long deliberation. It hadn’t been as immediate as it had been for Sirius.
He joined the Quidditch team in his third year, not second unlike James. He wasn’t a chaser or a beater or a seeker, he had been a keeper.
He wasn’t made Quidditch captain like his father and grandfather but had instead been made prefect in his fifth year.
His pranks were always subtle and funny, but failed to confound people or have the sharp edge of ruthlessness that his predecessors had.
He wasn’t a prodigy in transfiguration or defence, he would much rather play music, he had been a part of the choir club.
You know Sirius too, always loved music.
He always had a smile and a kind word dripping from his lips, his hands always ready to tug someone into a much needed hug.
Yet he never did tell anyone when he needed a hug.
You are so much like your grandfather.
Your laugh reminds me of Sirius.
Your love stems from your grandfather.
You light up a room the same way Sirius used to.
He laughed and smiled and thanked the person while all his mind churned through was, Is nothing of me mine?
Am I even me or am I just a puppet, here to live the lives of men he knew nothing about?
As he grew so did his doubt, his sorrow, yet he had gotten so used to hiding it away that even he didn’t realise it. He laughed the same way he always had even if his eyes didn’t reflect it. His words were just as kind even if his tongue no longer believed they meant anything. He still lit up a room the same way as always, even if he no longer felt it.
How could there be anything left for him when he had been cutting away pieces of him for others since childhood?
He hadn’t even realised that his mind had been screaming at him to stop, just stop until his graduation.
He had been made valedictorian. Of course he had been. He was James Sirius Potter, he was a gryffindor, he was the son of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. He was the happy younger brother of Teddy Lupin and the proud older brother of Charlus Regulus Potter and Lily Luna Potter. He was a pretty good quidditch player and he was the leader of the choir group. He had been a prefect and he had been head boy. He had helped younger students with everything he could.
He was the shadow of James Potter, proud and strong and confident, he walked in the steps of Sirius Black, loyal and reckless and popular.
He had been in his room, trying to make himself move, but his legs weren’t working. All week people had been congratulating him, telling him of course he had been made head boy, he was Harry’s son. He had smiled and smiled and smiled while all he had wanted to do was scream.
Why couldn’t even a single thing he did be about him?
“Jamie.”
His head snapped up, dead brown eyes seeing his father standing in the doorway, a nervous smile on his lips. “Can I come in?” Harry tugged at his hair, uncertainty radiating from him.
“Dad, hey. Of course, come in.” In a second his previous thoughts had evaporated, stuffed back into the chest in the recesses of his mind. “I was just about to come down.” He smiled the same easy fake smile he had been smiling since years.
Harry just shook his head, closing the door and coming to sit beside James. His hand came up to brush his son’s hair. James automatically leaned into the touch, a brief amount of solace sinking into him as he laid his head on his father’s shoulder. These were the only moments he had any peace in now, when he could just be with his family, without words, without having to do anything, without expectations.
“Jamie.” Harry whispered after a few moments, he loathed to disturb the peace his son was in but it was necessary. “You’ve been different recently.” He began, he could feel his son tense, but he just continued softly, his hand continuing to move through James’s hair in a soothing manner.
“We’ve tried to talk to you, and give you space, but son, we're worried.” James pulled away from his father a perfectly confused look on his face. “I’m fine dad what do-”
Harry just shushed him. ‘I’m sorry son, I should have realised how much of a burden a name could be.” He didn’t say anything, just looked at his father unblinkingly.
“You've always been so brave Jamie, so warm, you were always so happy that sometimes I forgot-” here Harry had to blink back tears from his eyes. “You are your own person, and it was not, it is not fair of us to have put so many expectations on you based upon your names.” James looked away, unable to say anything, his throat swelling with the emotions he couldn’t even name.
“How do you-?” He couldn't, he didn't know, he wasn’t sure how to frame his question.
“Honestly I feel terrible that I haven’t noticed it before. I’m really sorry about that, Jamie.”
“Oh.” He responded, his gaze fixed on his hands unable to say anything. He had wanted this hadn’t he? He had wanted someone, anyone to see, had he?
“Here.” His dad handed him a closed parchment. “You should go, if you want to of course. I think, I think you need to find who you are without us holding you to people no longer here.”
“You want me to leave?” his heart sank terribly and he didn't even know why. He wondered what could be on the parchment, dread flowing through his veins. This was- this was good, this was for him, only him, not for anyone else, for him alone, yet he felt he was being punished, being sent away because he had failed.
“No!” His dad pulled him fiercely into his chest, holding him tightly, his arms almost bruising around James. “Jamie, never ever doubt that I want you away from me. Merlin, the second you had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express I wanted to stop the train and take you back home, hell the first time I had an overnight assignment after you were born, I was so worried and I missed you so much I nearly left in the middle just to be able to sing you to bed, the first time you slept over at The Burrow, I couldn’t sleep until I saw you the next morning.” James’s chuckle came out watery as his arms came up to fist into his father’s shirt. He was not an 18 year old barely holding it together, pretending to be okay, he was just a child, a child who had needed his father, who had needed someone to hold onto who would tell him it was okay but he hadn’t been brave enough to ask for it.
“I wish I could keep you next to me all the time Jamie, I wish I could protect you from the world and their words and I wish I could have protected you from the words which have hurt you till now instead of being one of them who have hurt you. For that I will never forgive myself, all I can do is promise to be better.” His father pulled him in closer which he didn’t think was possible, kissing his hair in apology.
“It’s alright.” James murmured softly. It was okay, he realised. He had been hurt and sad and frustrated but he knew that they hadn’t meant to hurt him, and here was his father, drowning in guilt and sorrow trying to make it better.
“No, no it’s not Jamie. We should have realised, I should have realised.” James pulled back from the hug, looking down at the slightly crumpled envelope. He had no idea what to say to that.
“What is this anyway?” His hands ran over the simple texture of the parchment. “It's the contact information of the therapist I saw after the war, two decades ago.”
“I’m not crazy.” His voice came out in broken whispers, throat closing around the words. “Oh sweetheart, “ Harry murmured sadly. “Of course you're not. You just need a little help and it should have been my responsibility, your mother’s responsibility to be there to help you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is my mistake though.” Harry didn’t move from his stance, he had hurt his son and that guilt would never go away from his soul. He could ruminate over his mistakes later, right now his son needed him and he would not fail him again.
“She is currently in the US, and she did recommend someone here, their information is on there too, but I think you need to find yourself in a place away from here. There is a Black property there you can use if you want to and I know there is a music school there that you have been interested in, and you didn’t apply because you thought you need to be here, but you should go Jamie, the music you make, it’s pure art and you should do this, for yourself. You deserve it….”
Harry’s words were cut off as James launched himself at his dad again, thank yous and tears streaming through him continuously. Harry laughed helplessly as he wrapped his arms around his son again, thankful that at least he hadn’t butchered this again.