The Letter Box.
The Letter Box.
It has been a long time since the war.
Dumbledore defeated Voldemort, after a letter was found, telling them that the Dark Lord had horcruxes, dividing his soul and making him immortal.
It has been a long time since then.
James and Lily had lived out their lives, raising their son, having Padfoot and Moony and Wormtail over every weekend, seeing Dorcas and Marlene on holidays, keeping in touch with Alice and Frank Longbottom, their boys growing up together.
They see James’s parents every holiday as well, as they spoil Harry with gifts every time. They are long gone now too, buried next to each other at the graveyard where Lily and James will also lay to rest.
It has been a long time since his parents died.
He has accepted it now, just as he accepted everyone else’s deaths.
It has been a long time, afterall.
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Harry had been visiting. He sat on the couch with his friends, the trio having named James and Lily’s house their hangout, just as Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s house had been James’s friends.
“James dear, would you go find the picture album? To show Hermione and Ron all the pictures of baby Harry?” Lily turned to him, breaking him out of his daze. He looked at her, then at the trio bickering and laughing, the three of them now living their own lives, attempting to put together some sort of name in history for themselves.
He thinks. His memory is like his eyesight these days, foggy.
“Of course, my flower.” James responded with a smile, standing from his chair to head up into Harry’s old room. He opened the door, and began looking in the closet for the old photo album.
No matter how hard he searched, he could not find the darn thing. He closed the closet door, instead moving into his and Lily’s room.
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He opened the door to their closet, searching the storage on the bottom for the damn thing, yet coming up empty handed. He reached to the top shelf, feeling around for the album.
When his hand knocked against something velvety, he paused. He reached up with both hands, grabbing for the strange object.
When he finally got ahold of the thing, he pulled it down from the shelf.
It was an old box, a red velvet, having turned more brown with time. He looked at it, attempting desperately to remember what this box was, who it belonged to, how old it was.
After a moment, he opened the lid, being greeted by a cloud of dust.
After he finished coughing, he opened his eyes to find the box stuffed to the brim with letters. All sorts of letters. He froze, staring at the box, his hand tentatively brushing the first one, accidentally knocking it to the floor.
James set the box on his dresser, and reached over to grab the letter with shaky hands.
The folded over paper read,
‘James’s plans for the future!’
Just looking at it, James grabbed the box again, taking it with him to his bed. He sat on the edge of his bed, placing the box delicately next to him, and slowly opened the letter.