Dear Future Me,
How’s Harry? How’s Lily? How was 1981? Did we win? Was it Moony?
Tomorrow 1981 starts. I have a good feeling about this year. I have a feeling that I can answer all my previous questions: perfect, perfect, amazing, yes, no. The world is in chaos and I’ve always found comfort in letters. Decided to write to you, well me…us? I know where I am now. You know where I am in the future. Enjoy our letter. Some Background information on me in case you forgot but also for future historians who want to put my name in history books - I am 20. I am married to the most intelligent, passionate, breathtaking woman to grace the planet earth. Oh, and my name is James Fleamont Evans-Potter. AKA Prongs. AKA Best Dad Ever. Harry James Evans-Potter was born in July. My perfect wife brought him into the world. I love my son. I think I’ve loved him my entire life. It helps that my little Harry inherited his mother’s features. I think he’ll start to look like me as he gets older though. I guess I’ll be able to tell in a few years. I am so excited to see him grow. Sometimes, I think it’s the only thing keeping me going. You know, I’ve always wanted a kid. Lily was nervous about bringing a tiny human into the war. But seeing his face, his reflective spring eyes and chubby cheeks, well, I don’t know. It reassures me that we’ll be okay. It reassures me because not only will I protect him until the moment I die but I will protect him until the moment he dies. I will go down swinging on death eaters muggle style before they touch a hair on my cherub’s head. And Lily would fight twice as hard. She always has. More correctly, she’s always had to.
People suck. Blood supremacy - which congrats on incest???? - has plagued our world for far too long. Its roots dig deep into the soil of our souls. I can see it sucking the life from the people I love. My wife is muggle-born. That means people especially suck when they’re interacting with her. Not all people. But she can never be too careful when her life is on the line. My in-laws are angels. They bake the best blueberry muffins. I’m so mad I didn’t get to see them for New Year's Eve (today) but we couldn't risk it. A few friends are coming later though.
My best friend and soulmate Sirius Orion Black will, of course, be in attendance. He makes me feel sane, for the most part. He acts like everything is completely normal. Like we’re still at Hogwarts sneaking firewhisky through secret tunnels and cheating in Charms. There’s only one thing: he thinks his boyfriend (my other best friend) is working for the death eaters. Working for him. I told him that if it bothers him so much he should confront him. He never does. He never will. But I can see it. I can see the lack of love when he looks at him. I feel the coldness vibrate through my bones. I think Remus is innocent. Lily thinks Remus is innocent. But to make Pads feel better we plan to make Peter the secret keeper. Sweet, cheeky, dependable Peter. We haven’t told him yet but I know he’ll say yes. I love the bastard. And he loves me.
Hope you’re still sexy. Hope you’re still alive.
Sincerely, Prongs.