James Potter
James Fleamont Potter sat and watched his two children as they played together in his living room, his wife in the kitchen washing the dishes.
Technically only one of his children was his biologically but he didn't care.
Iris Potter was just that, a Potter. When James found out what Lily had done at first he was upset, of course he was, but when he found out exactly what'd happened he found forgiving her easier. He loved her after all.
He was glad that the man (James refused to say his name, and not because it was cool or anything) was there to help his Lily flower, and he was grateful that he had gotten her home. Did he like that the pair had then gone on to sleep together? Obviously not. But he could sort of understand it.
It was like the time in 5th year when he had slept with one of his fellow quidditch players, Michael Johns, after James had almost died from a bad fall in the game. He had needed a bit of comfort, a way to forget for a little while how close he had come to almost dying. And Mike was there to offer comfort.
James had imagined Lily was feeling the same way and couldn't fault her. Not when she so obviously felt terrible about it after. She had come back to the house in Godric's Hollow crying and explained what had happened the night before. James had needed a bit of time but in the end, he loved Lily, and she loved him, they would get through it.
And when a few weeks later Lily had again come crying to him he had comforted her and told her it would be alright because he was James and she was Lily and they loved each other, and they would get through it. They would raise that child together and it would be a Potter through and through regardless of who her father was.
And he was right.
Iris Potter was every bit James' daughter as she was Lily's. She had the same cheeky smile, the same twinkle in her green eyes. Oh, how James loved her eyes, it was like looking into Lily's they were so similar. And he was even happier when a year later his son was born with those same eyes.
Iris and Harry got on exceptionally well, not that it was easy for a one and a two-year-old to get into arguments. Iris was always careful with Harry, despite that she was always so rough with everyone else. She played fighting with Sirius when he was Padfoot and liked to pinch and grab and push. She could be a right wild child at times. But with Harry, she was gentle and kind.
It had warmed James' heart one night when he went to settle Harry but had instead found Iris sitting in the cot holding her brother.
The young father stood and watched for a minute as Iris rocked Harry back and forth as best as a two-year-old could. The little boy started to settle after his sister started singing some nonsensical song that was more sounds than words, but Harry didn't seem to mind.
And when he fell asleep, Iris had stayed and laid down next to him and drifted off to sleep as well.
James had come and gently scooped her up before taking her back to her room to put her to bed. He looked down at her, his little Iris, his baby girl, and thought just how perfect his little family was. How perfect she was.
Iris Potter was his princess, his ray of sunshine in the dark times that was the war. His family made it all worth it because he was fighting for them. For his children, and his wife, and his friends, for Remus and Peter, and Sirius his brother.
His friends had been amazing with the kids as well. They had named Sirius as Iris' godfather, and Remus was Harry's. And when, just a few weeks ago, they had found out Lily was pregnant again, they planned to ask Peter to be the godfather.
Iris got on the best with Sirius because he, being a big man-child, could keep up with Iris's boundless amounts of energy. Peter was a close second because he always had some sort of sweet treat to share with her. That didn't mean she didn't love Remus, she did, especially when he read to her. She loved her uncle Moony's stories, especially when he made silly voices to her.
Things couldn't have worked out better, and James was the happiest he had ever been. He loved his family.
He had thought about this as he faced the front door, seeing the dark shadow of a man creeping up on them. He was vaguely aware that he didn't have his wand on him, but all he could focus on was Iris' cries for her daddy, and Lily's footsteps running up the stairs. They would be ok, he would make sure of it.
How had this happened?
Lily was doing the dishes, James watching his children play, and the cat sat in the window still. They were all relaxing after a fun evening trick or treating in their small village. Everything was perfect.
Then the children were screaming, Lily was crying and James was yelling and the cat was hissing. He could vaguely remember telling Lily to run, that James would hold him off. He stood by the front door and watched as the shadow of a man came closer to their home like an omen of death.
Was that Lily's wand he spotted in the kitchen by the sink? Surely not. She and the children would be fine, he thought, the invisibility cloak was in the cupboard and Lily was an excellent dullest.
The man, the monster, he was here, and the door was blasted open. James could hear Iris screaming. He ran to the base of the stairs. He would keep his family safe, and they would be ok. They would be fine, they would get through it, because he was James and she was Lily, and they loved each other.
The man, Voldemort, cackled a sort of mad-sounding sound. His red eyes stared at James, his arm lifting, his wand pointing at him.
He had time to think about how he couldn't hear Iris screaming anymore, Lily must have gotten out with the children.
He was glad they would be ok, that was all he wanted for them, to grow up in a world where they didn't have to worry about war. Where they could be happy. He wanted that for them even if he wasn't there to see it.
With that thought, James closed his eyes as the last whispers of the deadly spell left the lips of the monster. He only had a second to think before his body was shot with power enough to kill any being.
A second to wonder what had happened to Peter, dear sweet Peter. What had they done to make him tell the death eaters their location?
He fell backwards as the curse hit his chest, he felt his blood sizzle, and his heart start being a mile a minute before it stopped. James welcomed the sweet embrace of death, glad that his children still had a chance.
He lay dead on the steps of his family home where he had hoped to raise his children, his last thoughts of his family.